Taste of Defeat

I left work early. It was 4:30 pm. The plan was to surprise her with a visit to her favorite restaurant. I had made the reservation, it was all set. The drive home was unremarkable, with my excitement growing stronger as my home drew closer. I forgot to even play music, I could hear my own heartbeat. This was my moment. This was the time to win her back!

I checked my hair in the mirror after parking my car. I opened the door and took a step in. The sound was familiar. The sound was heartbreaking. I could hear the bed creak in a familiar rhythm. I looked down and noticed his shoes. She had invited her boyfriend over.

I had asked her to inform me every time she meets her lover. She often informed me after the fact. Today appeared to be the same. I closed the door behind me. The bed stopped creaking. They probably heard me. I dropped my bag on the couch, and walked over to the bedroom.

I heard her giggle. It was a painful sound to her. Such moments must be reserved between a wife and her husband. It was not I that shared these moments with her, it was him. I brought my hand near the door knob. That very instant, the sounds resumed. Harder this time around. I could hear his thighs slapping against her. She had also begun moaning. Were they performing? Were they doing this to hurt me?

I grabbed the door knob and twisted. He was rough. The whole bed moved with his rhythm. They both turned to look at me. They had huge smiles on. I was confused. This was a fairly common occurrence. He fucked her 2--3 times a week on average. I never did, anymore. It was cruel, and I often wished otherwise. But, it was I who suggested cuckolding, and it was I who suggested that she'd be better off being exclusive with him. It would be hypocritical to ask her for sex just to regret it 5 minutes later.

I closed the door behind me. They did not say a word to me, and went back to how they were. It was still surprisingly emasculating to just stand there watching while another man fucked my wife. I wondered when I would get over it. I removed my clothes and dropped them into the laundry basket. As I turned to go for a shower, my eyes met his. He pointed to the chair.

'I would like to take a shower first,' I said.

'Sit,' he commanded.

I sat down on the chair. I feared him. He was much larger than me, and a lot more muscular. I had been punished by him only a handful of times. But, I remembered each punishment vividly. It was brutal, even when he was being gentle.

He looked at me and pulled his hip back, so that just his tip was inside her. It was meant to humiliate me. It was a way to say, "Look at the difference between us". Then, he thrusted hard. My wife moaned loudly. A few more strokes later, he grabbed her and put her on the bed. They began fucking in the missionary position.

Weirdly enough, this was the most humiliating position for me to watch them in. This was supposed to be the marital position. This was how WE were supposed to have sex. He fucked her gentler, as a way to showcase how he could fuck her like a bull or a husband.

I had been replaced. It was a hurtful thought, but I knew it to be true. My love for her allowed this to happen. Funnily enough, I did not regret it. During my sadder days, I wished that she fucked someone else -- someone less rude, someone who understands me. But, every other day, I was ecstatic. I was happy that he provided what I couldn't. I was happy because she was happy.

He never wore condoms. They were exclusive, so there was no risk of catching STDs. Moreover, both of them enjoyed creampies. And they enjoyed feeding them to me.

They continued for a few more minutes before he thrusted deep within her and came. Her nails had dug into his back, and she had wrapped her legs around him. This was an orgasm. I never did this for her. My eyes filled with tears, but I couldn't cry. Not now. I quickly wiped my tears off while they were busy kissing.

He took a step back, and I crawled up on the bed. I sat between her legs, and begged her to allow me to clean her pussy. This was our ritual. He fucks her, and I beg to be allowed to clean her pussy.

'Please, may I lick your pussy clean?' She never denied me this, so I begged with little enthusiasm. He grabbed my hair from behind and pushed me closer to her pussy. I was maybe a centimeter away from it. I could smell the sex. It was intoxicating.

'Beg better!' He said.

'Please, my love! Allow me to lick your pussy clean!' I exclaimed. This felt embarrassing, but not humiliating.

'You know what? Not good enough, beg his cock.' She said, and pushed my forehead away with her index finger.

He pulled me back, and turned me around to face him. He brought me close to his cock this time around. It had the same smell that her pussy had. It was wet, and dripping. I was not bi, and neither was he. I only hoped that it was just as awkward for him as it was for me.

'Please, may I lick my wife's pussy clean?' I begged.

'Again.'

'Please, sir, may I lick my wife's pussy clean?' I begged again, with a lot more enthusiasm.

He turned me around and pushed me back. I jumped at her pussy and began lapping it up like a starving dog. I licked and sucked for a long time, until I could no longer get anymore cum out. His cum was familiar, a strong salty flavor unlike anything else. It tasted a lot like my own cum. However, his was thicker, a lot thicker.

They went for a shower, and I washed my face in the sink. I went back to the living room and started scrolling Instagram. She entered the room, and sat next to me.

'Why did you return early today?' she asked.

'Well, I had planned to surprise you. I have reserved a table at your favorite restaurant. The plan was to take you out for a nice date and end the night on our bed.'

I could not hide my disappointment. She could obviously see it. She kissed me on the cheek.

'Is it under your name?'

'Yes.'

'May I be cruel?' This was her way of asking if I'd be fine with being cucked again.

My heart rate increased again. I knew what she was planning. I felt a pit in my stomach. This is what I wanted. Deep within my heart, I knew this is the woman I loved.

'Yes,' I replied.

She hopped up and walked to the entrance of the living room and called out for him.

'We have reservations for dinner. Let's go!'

He entered the living room, grabbed her by the ass, and kissed her deeply.

'He did that for us?'

'Yes.'

'Thanks, man,' he said, and took her hand and walked out of the main door.

I was alone in the house now. I opened the refrigerator, leftover pizza for dinner it is, then.