The Joy of Cuckolding

She found him in the kitchen the night before she was leaving. Coming out of the bedroom after packing her bag for a trip to see him. Her boyfriend. Two nights this time.

She came up behind her husband at the counter and slid her arms around him.

"I love how nervous and excited you get when I'm about to spend the weekend with him," she said, her mouth close to his ear. "It's written all over your face right now."

He didn't deny it. He never could. The angst was sometimes overwhelming yet he continued to encourage her.

She walked him back to the bedroom with her hand on his chest, undressing him slowly once the door closed, taking her time, watching his face the whole way. When she pushed him down onto the bed and climbed over him, straddling his hips without taking him inside her yet, she could already feel how hard he was against her. His tip of his dick pushing against her clit.

"It makes sense you get scared when I'm with him," she said, rolling her hips slowly against him. "I've told you I love him. That what we have isn't just sex." She leaned down, her lips against his. "You knew that before I even said it to him. You always know."

He swallowed. His hands found her hips.

"That arouses you, doesn't it." Not a question. She said it the way she said most things to him now, plainly, without flinching. "It also scares you. That I might love him enough to leave you for him." She watched his face carefully, reading every flicker of it. "That's a real fear. Deep down. The kind that gives you angst."

"Yeah," he admitted, his voice already rough.

She reached down between them and wrapped her hand around him, feeling how hard he already was.

"Mmm. Look at that." She stroked him slowly. "Does it turn you on, thinking about me leaving you for a better man?" She leaned in, her voice dropping lower. "Plays right into that fear, doesn't it. That you're not enough man for me."

She felt him twitch in her hand and laughed softly, delighted with him.

"Would you jerk off if I left you for him?" She kept stroking, slow and deliberate. "Tell me you would."

"I would," he breathed.

"That's so hot." She kissed him, slow and unhurried, then pulled back to look at him again. "How many men have I been with since we got married?"

"A lot," he said.

"A lot," she agreed. "Almost into triple digits at this point. All of them bigger than you. All of them better at fucking me than you've ever been." She watched that land on his face, watched the shame and the want move across it together the way they always did. "And I'm still not leaving you."

She guided him inside her and sank down slowly, feeling him fill what little of her he could, and started to move.

"Most husbands would have left a long time ago," she said, fucking him. "A wife who's been with that many men. Most men couldn't survive that." She leaned down over him. "You never even think about it. You'd never leave me. You just encourage me to have more"

"Never," he said.

"I know." She smiled, something tender moving into it now. "What you give me is a gift. The freedom. Never once making me choose." She kissed his lips. "Most men who could fuck me the way my boyfriend does, if I weren't already married and so in love with you. They would want exclusivity. They'd demand it." She squeezed around him gently. "Not you. You're my perfect husband. I love everything about you. Even this."

She kept moving over him, slow and steady, watching him come undone beneath her.

"I even like that it turns you on, imagining I'd leave," she said quietly. "Knowing you'd beg for me back. That you'd take me in a second, no conditions, no pride left to protect." She slowed, looking down at him with something softer now. "I don't actually like hurting you, though. I know it happens sometimes, as a side effect of all this. But I would never want to really break your heart. Make you cry into your hands alone in some room, jerking off, that would be so sad." She kissed him, soft and lingering. "I love you. My sweet, perfect man."

He came beneath her like he always did when she talked to him this way, completely undone, the fear and the love and the arousal arriving together the way they always had for him, indistinguishable from one another. Pure submission and love of his wife.

She held him through it. Stayed close after, her forehead against his, both of them breathing hard in the quiet dark.

"Two nights with my boyfriend" she whispered. "Then I'll be back."