Wifey Whore, Hubby Cuck Pt. 01

The breeze in Rota always brings something unexpected. The wind sweeps over the whitewashed rooftops, drifts down to the fishing port, and then circles back to the base gates where the marines stand watch, always looking a little out of place in this corner of the world.

My name is Antonio, and I've spent nearly all my life here, in this small town on Spain's southern coast, where waves crash against the old walls and nights smell of fried fish and chilled wine. I never thought I'd get married, let alone that I'd spend my life with someone from across the ocean--a woman who couldn't even pronounce my name at first. I met Emily--or "Emi," as we call her here--one July afternoon, when the sun was melting everything in sight and the sand burned your feet. I was in my friend's bar, wiping down glasses with my usual monotony, when she walked in. The place went quiet for a moment; American women didn't usually venture into our neighborhood, let alone into a bar with no air conditioning and no view of the beach.

Emily was alone, her blonde hair pulled back in a high ponytail, with clear, curious eyes and just enough Spanish to ask for a glass of water. The heat seemed to bother her, but there was a mix of determination and shyness in her expression that caught me instantly. I, who'd spent my whole life here and knew all the locals and every tourist by sight, suddenly found myself tongue-tied, as if I'd forgotten how to speak.

Many years later, I still don't understand what made me walk over to her table and ask if she'd like to try a bit of wine. Maybe it was because here in Rota, where people always seem to wear the same faces, share the same gestures, and tell the same stories, something new was too tempting to pass up.

Emily declined my offer with a shy smile, and at that moment, what I now call "the second act of my life" began.

I approached with two glasses of wine and smiled at Emily, who watched me with a hint of hesitation and a cautious air.

"Come on, just try it," I insisted, raising a glass toward her. "It's a Sherry wine, nothing like what you have over in the States."

Emily looked at the glass, she rolled her eyes and smiled. She wasn't irritated, but something in her eyes didn't match her smile.

"Thank you, but. I can't." She looked down at the glass, then up at me, and said:. "I'm... Well, I'm pregnant."

I was unable to say a word after hearing her say that. There was a moment of silence between us.

"Pregnant?" I finally said, as though trying out the sound of the word aloud to see if it were true.

Emily nodded.

"Yes. I'm surprised myself. I came to Rota to work, that is. The father is a marine from the base. We met a few months ago, and... " She paused, searching for the words, "things got complicated, you know? He... he's a married man."

I said nothing, turning her words over in my mind. This information changed everything, though I wasn't quite certain why. I barely knew her, yet I felt connected--something beyond words or chance.

"Oh, I wasn't hoping that would occur." I grinned, trying to jolly it up. "Guess offering wine wasn't such a great idea, then."

Emily laughed, a soft, airy sound, as if she might for a moment forget her dilemma.

"Don't mind, err... What do you call yourself?"

"Antonio."

"Well, Antonio, it was a thoughtful thing to do."

I nodded, looking at her, trying to understand why I still felt this strange attraction, despite knowing she was pregnant. Spur of the moment, I leaned in slightly closer.

"Well, um. What is your name?"

"I am Emily, but everybody calls me Emi." She smiled.

"Oh, Emi, if you can't have the wine, then just chat, let's just chat. I still have some stories that I think you'll want to hear. and really, I think that you've probably got a couple of stories or two that you might want to share."

Emily looked at me, surprised, and then her expression softened.

"Good, Antonio. Sometimes it's easier to talk to a person who does not know your whole past."

Something changed in me then. The image of Emily--her clear eyes, her nervous laugh, that way she looked at the glass of wine as if it were a doorway to the unknown--stayed imprinted in my mind. Not even two days had passed before I found myself looking for excuses to see her again. Rota is a small town, and sooner or later, the lives of those who live here inevitably cross paths. What I didn't realize was that Emily wouldn't leave those encounters up to chance.

The first request for a favor came close to feeling like an accident. I bumped into her at the market. She was standing beside one of the fruit and vegetable vendors. She appeared confused and not from the region among the locals, and therefore I could not help but approach her.

"Need some help choosing?" I asked, giving her a smile I couldn't control. She laughed softly and nodded.

"To be honest, yes. I have no idea how to pick the right melon," she admitted, pointing at a huge melon like it was some kind of exotic relic.

The scene felt a little bit awkward for a moment, Emi is busty and we were there talking about melons. Actually her cleavage showed off her breasts quite well, and although most of the men were staring at her, Emi didn't seem to mind at all. I was so smitten at the time that I didn't dare make any saucy jokes about helping buy melons for a girl who had a nice pair of melons of her own, so I acted polite.

I gave her a few basic tips, and before I knew it, I was helping carry her groceries to her apartment. It was a small, dim place, but she seemed comfortable there. She told me she'd started renting the apartment as soon as she found out she was pregnant. Even though she still had a small house on the base, she didn't want to complicate things with the marine who'd gotten her pregnant--or with his family. Then Emi offered me a coffee, and that one was the first of many. Before I knew it, I'd become her guide, her confidant, and, though it pains me to admit it, her go-to man.

Every day, she found a reason to ask for my help. "Antonio, could you help me with the gas? I don't understand how it works." I'd drop everything and run. "Antonio, I need to change a lightbulb and can't reach it." There I was, standing by, like a loyal soldier, climbing her ladder and looking for excuses to stay a little longer.

Deep down, I was aware that she'd picked up on my feelings. I never said it outright, but one look in my eyes would have told her everything. I was completely infatuated, like a young boy experiencing first love, and Emily wasn't naive. She knew what my feeling for her were each time I offered to carry her bags or help her with English Spanish translations. She didn't need to ask aloud; a smile and a subtle tilt of her head would be enough to have me at her feet.

Over time, her requests became more frequent, almost too casual. "Antonio, could you bring me some bread from the market? The one I bought is a bit stale." "Antonio, would you drive me to the Public Notary? I need to pick up some papers, and I'd feel better if you drive me there." They were never big favors, but they always seemed to come at the right moment, when I was already thinking of her, when any excuse to see her felt irresistible.

Sometimes, alone at home after masturbating thinking of her, I'd ask myself if I was being a fool. Deep down, I knew it. I knew she was taking advantage, that she used me as a lifeline in this town that felt strange and distant to her. But what I was supposed to do? Every time I looked at her, or I heard her say my name with that accent of hers, I would do anything for her, even if it cost me a little pride, even if I felt like a pawn in her game.

And so the weeks passed. For me, each favor was an opportunity to be near her, to listen, to notice her gestures and quirks, to be someone in her life. For her, each favor was a way to make her stay easier in a place that still didn't feel like hers. Who was the fool and who was the wise one? I didn't care much. The only thing I was aware of was that, even though she was from a different world, even though her interests and thoughts lay elsewhere, I was in love.

Emi's belly was increasing day by day, and her pregnancy was progressing well. I used to go with her for her checkups, and one day when she was seven months pregnant, the nurse attending us thought that I was the father of the baby.

The nurse smiled, and then she jotted something down in her notebook, she looked at us every now and then.

"So, are you two set for the big day?" She asked, "You must be excited," she said, looking directly at me.

I wanted to talk, but before I could say anything, Emi interrupted me.

"Oh, we're very excited." She said slapping my arm. "He's a huge help--What I'd do without him?"

"I always like to see a dedicated father-to-be. You'll be a great dad." Said the nurse with a big smile on her face.

Emi looked to me with a thankfull message in her eyes and then said: "He's already been practicing, haven't you, honey?"

I was caught off guard and could only nod, while Emi continued to smile enjoying the scene. The nurse congratulated us, convinced we were a real couple, and Emi played along without missing a beat.

By the time the appointment was over, I wasn't sure whether I was more flustered or completely taken in by her little act.

My thoughts jumbled for days afterwards. Confusion, excitement, and something else flowed inside me. My feelings for Emi were genuine, powerful, and difficult to ignore. And the idea of being a parent to her kid sparked something in me, something that seemed like purpose.

After considerable contemplation, I realized what I needed to do. I needed to tell her.

One evening, as we walked along Rota's promenade, the sun dropped low over the horizon, leaving a golden light on the beach. The timing felt appropriate.

"Emi," I said, feeling the words freeze in my throat. I want to marry you. I want to be the father of your child."

She became motionless for a time, her eyes shining as she absorbed what I had just spoken. Then, she smiled slightly, a mix of excitement and dread on her face.

"Antonio, I like you," she stated quietly. But marriage... I'm not sure if I can be a good wife for you.

I got nervous, but I remained composed. "I'm not scared, Emi. What really important is how I feel about you. I adore you and would like to marry you right now."

Her eyes expanded slightly, astonishment flashing over her face before settling into something quieter and more serious."Okay, Antonio. I'll marry you," she answered, "but with some conditions."

My curiosity piqued. "Conditions? What are they?"

"First, I want to keep my little house on the base," she explained. "It makes me feel more comfortable, and I don't want to leave everything behind all at once. I want to keep it also to have a private place for... (she paused) myself." She paused again, her expression serious for a moment before continuing, "Also, I want to get married just before this baby is born. "I want a wedding where everyone can see my enormous belly."

I chuckled, relieved, and fascinated by her candor. "Of sure, if that's your preference. We'll have the wedding you want. "The most important thing is that I have you."

With a mix of delight and doubt, I began to anticipate what our future together may be like. Despite her particular conditions, I felt more committed than ever. I knew that with Emi by my side, life was about to become much more interesting and challenging.

The Castillo de Luna in Rota looked great the morning of our wedding. We hadn't known each other long, and though our decision to marry might have seemed rushed, we both felt it was right for now.

The guests were few--my parents, my brother, a handful of close friends, and a few American marines who knew Emi from her work on the base. They mostly stood near the back, polite but watchful, as if they, too, were piecing together our story. Emi appeared in a simple white dress, one she'd found just a week before, and she managed a soft smile as she approached me, her hand on her enormous belly.

The ceremony itself was short, an exchange of vows overseen by a local official, accompanied by the sound of my friend on guitar. I could feel my family's quiet judgment, but I tried to ignore it, focusing instead on Emi, who looked calm, even confident, as she promised herself to me.

Afterward, we gathered in the castle's small courtyard. My mother had arranged a modest spread of local foods, and the marines brought a few bottles of their own beer. The group began to relax, mixing as best they could despite the language barrier, and I saw Emi laughing with one of the marines--a guy named Jacob who seemed especially close to her. I felt a pang of something complicated watching them.

As sun set, Emi and I stood side by side, talking to our guests. Later, at some point during the reception, Emi took my hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

No, this was not the great love story I had imagined, but with her by my side, I felt we could make a life together here in Rota, she, I and her future baby.

The day the baby was born, Emi chose to have the delivery on base. She said she wanted her child to be born in an American setting; maybe she didn't fully trust the Spanish doctors. In any case, I couldn't be there for the birth because I still didn't have clearance to enter the base. It had only been two days since our wedding. After the delivery, Emi decided to rest and spend her recovery time at her home on base, so it wasn't until a month and a half later that I saw her again and finally met the baby.

Emi walked through the door, holding our infant against her chest like a frail prize. The baby's faint wail pierced the calm of our modest apartment, a reminder that life had changed in ways I had not yet realized. Her hair hung moist over her shoulders, and she exuded an obvious warmth, tinted with fatigue.

"Look at you," I replied, attempting to hide my desire under adoration. "You're... radiant."

She smiled faintly but did not return my look. Instead, she altered her top, showing the fullness of her breasts beneath the cloth. They were unbelievably full, and milk poured through her top where she had definitely spilled.

"Isn't it exhausting?" I inquired, coming closer.

"Sometimes," she said, "But worth it."

I moved in closer, talking conspiratorially as if we were still alone in the moment before parenting seized us completely. "You know what could make it better?"

Emi's demeanor hardened, and the tenderness in her eyes vanished like mist before a rising sun. "Sex?" she said, her voice calm but strained. "I'm just not ready."

"Not ready?" I repeated, my incredulity escalating into wrath. "Is it because you are still in recovery? Because..."

"It's not about that!" she cut me off in a way I hadn't heard before. She shifted the baby to shield him from our words. "I had sex last week."

The revelation lingered between us like smoke from a fire, a thick fog of betrayal and bewilderment.

"What do you mean?" My pulse raced as I examined her face for expressions of amusement or remorse.

"I mean what I said." Her speech was bland and devoid of emotion. "One of the marines assisted me when I felt overwhelmed by the baby... It's just occurred. "He fucked me."

There was an awkward silence between us. Only the baby's whimpering could interrupt it. It was a cruel reminder that life went on even in the midst of this akward situation.

"Did you sleep with someone?" I asked.

"Yes. Don't be surprised. Being a wife won't stop me from having a full sex life."

I was shocked.

"I you want a full sex life, then Why don't you want to have sex with me?"

Emi took a deep breath, her eyes rolled. "It's not just about you and me, I want to have more children. I always envisioned a big family."

"Don't you want me to be their father?" I asked immediately.

"No," she admitted, her glimpse finally locking onto mine with an intensity that made my stomach churn. "You'll love them differently if you are the biological father of them, but not of this one. I can't have that."

The baby stirred in her arms, sensing the rising tide of our emotions.

"So, that means I will never have sex with you?" I asked.

Emi said she would have sex with me after I have a vasectomy.

I could barely process her words, the weight of them pressing down like a leaden sky. "A vasectomy?" I echoed, my voice tinged with disbelief.

"Yes," she replied, firm yet vulnerable, as if she were bartering for something precious. "It's the only way I can see us moving forward--if you are not their biological, but adoptive father."

My desperation was evident. I stared at her breasts again. Those boobs swelled under her shirt every time she moved slightly, leaving a faint stain of milk on her clothes.

"Okay," I finally said, surprising myself by how quickly I gave up. "I will."

Emi's expression softened momentarily before hardening again.

"You need to be aware of what this means," she warned me crisply.

"I know exactly what it means." I responded.

She moved closer, inches away, breath mingling in the charged space that separated us. The baby stirred in her arms as if sensing our tumultuous emotions colliding like celestial bodies on a dark horizon.

"It will work," Emi whispered patronizingly to me.

A few weeks later, I had the vasectomy. The doctor advised waiting about three months before having sex to eliminate any risk of pregnancy.

During all this time I loved watching Emi breastfeed the baby, it was incredible the amount of milk she produced. Since the baby could not swallow it all and was well fed, Emi allowed me to start drinking from her breasts. The problem was that this made me horny and I wanted to have sex with her.

Little by little I gained confidence and started to touch her ass, tits, and even put my hands under her panties. Her pussy was almost always wet, and as I slipped my fingers into her vagina, I found that it was wide open.

Since I couldn't fuck her, Emi started giving me oral sex. She was a professional. Not only was she able to go deep, but when I came, she swallowed all my cum. After swallowing, she would look at me, smile and say, "This will be good for producing better milk for our baby."

But I needed more. I wanted to penetrate her a few times and she had to hide in the closet to stop me. She decided to go back to her home at the base until the three months were up to keep me from getting her pregnant. During that time, we would see each other in public places where she was sure I wouldn't dare do anything with her.

Finally, the time passed and she came back home with the baby.

At night, I could not resist anymore and once we were in bed, I jumped over her. She did not stop me, she spread her legs and received my hard dick into her already wet cunt.

"I've missed you so much." I said.

"I'm sorry," she answered.

It was a great missionary, me on top of her. I was having a great time, she was just there, no moaning, no dirty talk, she was just there with her legs spread, receiving me, waiting for me to cum and go to sleep... It did not take it very long before I cum inside her.

"Well, I hope we waited long enough and I did not get you pregnant" I said.

"Honey, that would be impossible," she said.

"I know, my vasectomy"

She laughed, "It is not that."

"Then, What is it?" I asked

"You can not get me pregnant because I am already pregnant again."

After a few minutes of awkward silent she explained:

"You know, I met this guy at the base, a marine from Texas. A true man, a real macho"

She told me the story of this guy who was very nice to her, helped her driving around places, mow the lawn and fix a couple of things here and there inside the house. She told me they both have a lot of things in common, and that he was temporarily stationed there and he did not know anyone.

Unbelievable. Again; my wife was pregnant by a man other than me. I had second thoughts about her. I wasn't sure whether to move forward with the marriage or pursue a divorce. In the end, I felt forced to stay. Just days later, she announced to my entire family and everyone we knew that we were expecting our second child. Trapped by the weight of her revelation, I conceded and agreed to stay with her.

Her pregnancy went smoothly, and Emi didn't lose her beautiful figure during those months. In fact, she became quite the attraction whenever she went to the beach. Strolling under the sun wearing only the bottoms of her tiny bikini, she turned heads everywhere. Her gorgeous belly glowed with a unique charm, and her fuller breasts drew the attention of every man around.

Around that time, my family began to pull away from me. Not everyone knew the baby wasn't mine, but they were certainly taken aback by my wife's behavior. More than once, they told me they'd seen her kissing American marines out in the open. I never tried to confirm it. She spent most of her days on the base, and I chose to believe it was for work. Yet, deep down, I knew the truth. In her base housing, she welcomed men--several of them--and indulged in the pleasures she shared with each of them.

On the other hand, I must admit that sex with her during that time was fantastic.

One night, maybe a couple of weeks before she gave birth to our second child, I laid naked on the bed, my eyes fixed on Emi's voluptuous body as she slowly undressed in front of me. That day, Emi was a vision of pure desire, her large, swollen belly a proof to the life growing within her--a life that was not my own.

Emi's long hair felt over her shoulders, framing her beautiful face. Her creamy white skin, glowed under the soft lighting, accentuated her full, rosy lips and sparkling blue eyes. She smiled at me, and then she gently caressed her heavy breasts, nipples already hard at the thought of what was to come.

"Do you want to fuck me?" Emi muttered, her voice full of passion. She understood how to torment me and make me wild with want. "I know you love my pregnant body, feeling another man's child growing inside me."

My breath accelerated as I followed my wife's moves. By then, I was a 100% shy, beta man, but when it came to Emi, I was putty in her hands. I loved her deeply, and despite knowing she had fucked with other men, I couldn't help but crave her touch.

"Yes, Emi," I said. I was impatient. "I love every inch of you, especially now."

Emi giggled and said in a very condescending way:

"You are such a good boy. I love you accept me for who I am: a slutty wife who can't get enough cock." She pulled off her panties, and exposed her waxed pussy. She was completely turned on. "I want to feel you inside me now."

As she talked, Emi went onto the bed and straddled my waist. She placed herself over my dick, her pussy lips just brushed the tip. "I've been thinking about this all day," she said, and grinded her hips and tempted me with her wetness. "About how I'd ride your dick while confessing my sins."

I groaned, and my hands reached up to cup her heavy breasts, thumbs brushed over her erect nipples. "Tell me, Emi," I urged, "Tell me all about your friends at the military base. "

Emi's eyes twinkled and she lowered herself onto my shaft, she guided me inch by inch into her warm, moist inside.

"Mmmmm, the men at the base," she drew my cock in. "They were all over me after they found out I was pregnant with another man's child. It made it so hard for them to believe they could fuck a pregnant harlot like me."

She rode me, her hips slid first in slow, seductive circles, then she pulled me deep within her with each downward plunge.

"There was one guy, a large, strong soldier with tattoos all over his arms. He enjoyed watching me go about the base virtually naked, with my huge belly on show for anyone to see."

My hands went down her body. I grabbed her hips and directed her movements. "Was there anything between you two?" I asked, my gaze never leaving hers.

Emi grinned, and started moving faster, her pussy muscles tightened around my cock.

"He followed me around for a while, his eyes were locked on my ass. He wanted to fuck me. And one day, he had his opportunity."

She leaned closer, her breasts swinging with her movements, and whispered into my ear:

"He arrived home. It was a hot day in July. I was having a shower as he entered the bathroom and cornered me, his hands all over my body. He hoisted me up and pushed me against the wall; I could feel his hard cock on my ass."

I pictured the whole scene while my cock continued inside her. Then I asked: "What did you do next, Emi, tell me, Did you let him fuck you right there?"

"I did. I wrapped my legs around his body and guided his huge cock into my hot cunt. He fucked me hard against the shower wall, he squeezed my breasts, and I cum while screaming his name."

Her pace quickened, her pussy held me tightly as she rode me with abandon.

"And there was another time, on the beach. I was taking a sun bath, with my tiny bikini that barely covered my swollen belly. A group of soldiers approached me and their eyes roamed my body like hungry wolves."

I squeezed her buttocks as she rode me. "You love to get attention like that, don't you?". I said.

"Fuck yes!" cried Emi, her voice full of passion. "I love being the center of attention, knowing they all want to fuck me. So I teased them a little, letting my top slip down, exposing my heavy breasts. They were kind of mesmerized, their cocks straining against their briefs."

She leaned back and rested her hands on my thighs. So in that position she said to me: "One of them, a young and very handsome soldier, couldn't hold on any longer. He grabbed me by the waist and pulled me to him. Before I could realize it, his lips were on mine and his tongue had entered my mouth."

My desire increased as I asked her. "You let him take control?"

"Hell yeah!" Emi exclaimed, her voice raw with lust. "I let him have his way with me. He laid me down on the sand, pushing my bikini aside, and buried his face between my thighs. He ate my pussy, his tongue flicking my clit until I came, screaming his name on the beach."

Her movements became wilder, her pussy muscles milking my cock as she neared her climax.

"And there were more, Antonio. So many more. I've sucked many cocks in the past month or so, several men have fucked me in every hole. But I love it, baby, I love being a dirty little whore for them."

As I heard her, I realized my wife was a sexual attraction for countless guys. "Is there anything else you want to share with me?" I asked.

Emi rolled her eyes back as she felt her climax intensify and her body tremble with ecstasy. "Oh, Antonio, I am going cum! Please fuck me again, and I need to tell you about when I gave head to three soldiers."

Her words spurred me on, and I pushed up into her, my cock pounded her wet pussy. "What happened?"

"I--I took them all in my mouth, one by one," she gasped, her voice broke as her orgasm washed over her. "Sucking and stroking, deepthroating their hard cocks. They came all over my face, my tits, and I loved every second of it!"

She climaxed, and her pussy clenched around my shaft. She milked me, I joined her in ecstasy. My own release was growing, and I couldn't hold back any longer. "I am cumming, Emi! I am cumming inside you!"

With a final, hard push, I sent my load deep into her, my dick pulsed as I filled her pregnant pussy with my hot sperm. Emi shouted out, her body trembled as her climax met with mine.

Then, we started to slow down. Emi felt onto my chest, her boobs on top of my body.

"God, that was amazing," she said while tracing circles with her fingers on my hair. "I love sharing my adventures with you, baby."

I hugged her tightly, massaging her back. "I want to know, Emi." You are my everything, and I will always be available to meet your needs, whatever they may be."

Emi smiled and stared at him: "Oh, Antonio, I have a lot more stories to tell you.

Don not worry, I will tell you everything in advance from now own."

(To be continued)