Cuckold Regret Ch. 02: The Aftermath

There we were, me still in the chair, her on the bed. My mind was spinning.

She looked over. "That was intense."

"Yeah," I said. It came out almost deflated.

Her expression shifted. "Are you okay? I know it was a lot. But... how are you feeling?"

"I don't know." Honest. Perhaps a little cold.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No. It's just..." I struggled to find the right words.

"Just what?"

"It was different than I expected. It made me jealous more than I was expecting, and... I wasn't expecting you to say those things. The way you spoke to me. Is that how you really feel? That you need a real man to fuck you?"

"What? No, darling, no. I'm so sorry. It was just in the moment. I got caught up in the dirty talk--it was hot and I went with it. I didn't mean to make you feel bad. It's not real. It's just part of the fantasy."

I nodded. "It felt real. And..."

"Go on. Tell me."

"Okay. I felt jealous of a few things. The way he ate your pussy--you were squealing for him. You've never made that noise for me. And you came so fast. I never made you come like that." I paused. "Fuck, it made me wonder if you even enjoy sex with me."

"Of course I do. I love sex with you. This was a novelty, which made it exciting. That's all."

"And then you pulled his dick out. Fuck, your eyes--I hated how much you loved it. You've never looked at me like that. Your pupils were worshipping his cock."

"Shit, sorry, it was..."

"Was what?"

"Well, you got to admit, he was pretty fucking big. It was impressive. Come on."

"And then the condom." My voice dropped. "Fuck, you didn't even hesitate to let him fuck you raw. You don't even let me do that. And then you let him cum in you. I couldn't believe it."

Silence.

"It felt right," she said quietly. "With him."

I was shocked. It hurt.

"Felt right?" I repeated back to her, almost in disbelief.

I looked up at her, still spread out on the bed. I couldn't help noticing the stains across our sheets, our marital bed. My eyes drifted lower, to her used pussy, cum still leaking out of her. She didn't cover herself. She just lay there.

I felt completely sick.

And then I noticed I hadn't looked away.

I can't explain it. There was something about seeing her like this, wrecked, satisfied, marked, and I couldn't stop staring. It was the most confusing thing I'd ever felt. On the one hand, I wanted to throw up. On the other, my cock was stirring, and I hated myself for it.

I didn't know if I was turned on by this or if I hated it.

Maybe both. Maybe that was worse.

She saw where my eyes landed. Saw what I was feeling.

Something shifted in her face. Not triumph. Something softer.

"It's okay," she said quietly.

"Wha--?"

"To want this. Even when it hurts. Especially when it hurts."

She reached across the bed. Touched my knee. I didn't pull away.

"I didn't know I could feel like this either."

"I feel sick," I whispered.

"I know. But you're still here."

I didn't pull away from her hand.

"I'm sorry," I said.

She looked confused. "For what?"

"For getting jealous. I didn't expect it to hurt like it did."

"You don't have to be sorry."

Looking at her, I just didn't know what to do. I had never felt like this. I loved her. Part of me wanted to jump on the bed, take her, make her mine again. Part of me wanted to run out the door.

I felt love. I also felt a deep sense of betrayal. The thought of her so openly welcoming his cum inside her still burned in my chest.

She didn't pull her hand away. Neither did I.

Eventually I stood. Walked to the dresser. Picked up a pillow from our bed.

"I'll take the couch tonight," I said.

She nodded. Didn't argue. Didn't beg. Just said "Okay."

When I laid down, the TV clicked off in the living room. Her footsteps retreated upstairs.

I didn't sleep. I counted until dawn.

I eventually got up after a sleepless night. Made tea in the quiet kitchen, no light, just the sound of boiling water and the clink of the spoon against ceramic.

I crept upstairs to the bedroom. Ann was asleep, curled on her side. The sheets were stained. She hadn't cleaned them yet.

I set the tea on her bedside table. Didn't wake her. Grabbed some clothes from the closet. Left for work early.

At my desk, I tried to work. Couldn't. My mind kept drifting back, her face when Markus came inside her. The way she looked at him. The sounds she made that I never made her make.

Around ten-thirty, my boss checked over. "Everything okay?"

"Not feeling great," I said. Which wasn't a lie, really. My stomach felt hollow. My eyes were burning.

"Take the afternoon," he said. "You look like hell."

I nodded. Didn't trust myself to speak. Gathered my coat. Walked out before anyone else could see me leave.

I left at lunchtime. Headed home. Needed to talk to Ann.

The house was too quiet when I walked in.

Keys on the counter. Shoes by the door. "Ann?"

No answer from downstairs.

The kitchen had been used, coffee cup washed, drying rack full. Living room: TV off, cushions straightened. Stairs creaked above my head. Someone just moved upstairs.

I climbed them slowly. Bathroom door slightly ajar. Steam billowed from inside. Water running.

I waited. Didn't knock.

Ann came out in a bathrobe, damp hair, towel over her shoulder. Wet footprints trailed behind her on the hardwood. "You came home."

"Thought we needed to talk."

She studied me. Eyes tired. Hair still dripping. "We do."

We sat at the kitchen table. Coffee cups between us. Neither drinking. Her phone buzzed loudly on the wood surface.

Screen lit up. Notification preview:

"Markus: Miss you. Want to see those pics again?"

I stopped breathing for a second.

Ann glanced at it. Didn't touch it. Her face didn't change. No guilt. No panic.

"I should delete it," she said quietly.

I looked at her. "Do you want to?"

She met my eyes. That was the hardest question of all. "Before tonight, yes. Now... I don't know."

I saw her throat tighten. She was fighting something. Not guilt. Maybe relief.

She picked up the phone. Thumb hovered over the screen. Then pressed delete. Deleted the thread. Threw it back onto the table like it burned her.

"Gone."

I stared at her. At the blank screen. "That was for you or for me?"

She finally broke eye contact. Looked down at her hands. "For me."

Silence. Then: "We'll figure it out," I said.

"Yeah."

I reached across. Took her hand. She squeezed back. We sat there until the light faded.

The phone stayed dark between us. Neither touched it.

But we both knew, this wasn't the end of it.

Over the next week, we tried to get back to normal, but it wasn't that easy. Things felt unsaid, strained. We were both trying, but when we touched, it just didn't feel the same. We both pulled away whenever the other one reached out.

I found myself looking at her and thinking about it. I couldn't get the thought out of my head. I could see them fucking, her wanting his cum so desperate. I would look at her mouth and think about her sucking his cock. I think she saw me staring but pretended she hadn't. We both tried to pretend nothing was wrong.

Then, two weeks after the encounter, we were sitting after dinner drinking some wine when Ann's phone went. She looked at it, then looked up nervously.

"What is it?" I asked.

"It's Markus," she said. The air became tense.

"Open it," I said quietly. "Find out what he wants."

She clicked her phone open, read the message aloud, then didn't say anything else.

"Miss you. Want to finish what we started?"

"Right," I said. I tried hard to keep the jealousy out of my voice, but I'm sure it was there. "What do you think? Do you want to see him again? Do you miss him?"

"It's not like that," she started to say.

I cut her off gently. "It's okay. I'm not mad. I just need you to be honest."

"I do." She said it softly. "I'm sorry. I love you and I don't want to hurt you, but yes, I do want to see him again."

She looked scared by her own admission. Not triumphant. Just scared.

I watched as the words tumbled out of her. I loved this woman so much. I couldn't lose her. I didn't know what to do.

I put my wine down. My hand trembled slightly on the stem.

"I understand," I said, trying to find the right words. "Maybe you should see him?"

I said it nervously. I heard it in my own voice.

She looked surprised. "Really? Are you sure?"

I nodded. "But I don't know if I can just sit and watch again. That was hard. Painful."

"Do you want to be part of it?"

I hesitated. "I'm not sure," I said honestly. "Do you want me to be?"

She thought. I appreciated that she didn't rush her answer, that she really considered it. Finally, tentatively:

"I would like you to be part of it. But only if you're okay with that."

As she said the words, I think I was glad. My mind couldn't have taken not knowing what was going on. The uncertainty was eating at me.

"Okay," I said. "How do you want me to be part of it?"

She studied me, searching for the lie I might be hiding. There was none.

"Next time he comes," she said slowly. "You stay in the room. Close by. You touch me too. Before and after."

"And during?"

Her eyes met mine. "That's up to you. You decide in the moment."

It wasn't surrender. It was partnership.

"Okay," I said again. But this time, it sounded different.

"We should tell him," she said.

"Tell him what?"

"That I want you to be part of it."

I took a breath. Nodded.

We picked up her phone. I watched her thumbs hover over the keyboard. Then she typed. The cursor blinked, steady as a heartbeat.

She didn't hit send. Just showed me the screen.

"Something's changed. He wants to be involved too."

"Send it," I said.

She smiled at me. Not happy. Not sad. Something in between. And pressed send.

She pressed send.

Nothing happened for a moment. Then her phone buzzed.

"I'll think about it."

Three words. Nothing definite. Nothing final.

We sat there in silence. The wine had gone warm.

That was it. He knew. And now... we wait.

The next day, Markus still hadn't replied. I wasn't sure what to make of it.

Later that night, when we were in bed, Ann's phone buzzed. She picked it up, showed me it was a message from Markus, then opened it.

I was shocked. He'd sent her a picture. Of his hard cock, thick and waiting.

The message read:

"This is what thinking about fucking you does to me. I'm down. And if your husband wants to be part of that, I'm fine with it."

I stared at the screen. Didn't look away. Didn't look at Ann either.

She handed me the phone. "What do you think?"

Finally: "When did he say?"

"Tomorrow night. Friday."

"Friday." I repeated it like a prayer. Like a warning.

She looked at me. "Okay. Tell him Friday it is."

She beamed and texted him right away.

I watched her thumbs tap the screen. Then I asked:

"Are you excited about this?"

She didn't look up.

"Is this turning you on?"

She smiled. Took a second to answer. And shyly, she said:

"Yes."

"He sent you a picture of his hard cock. Do you want to send him something in return?"

She paused. Looked at the phone. Then at me.

"Do you want me to?"

"That's not what I asked," I said softly.

"I know."

We held that gaze for a long moment.

Then: "I'll send him one. But only if you see it first."

I nodded.

She threw the covers off the bed. Pulled her pajamas down. Spread her legs. Used one hand to part her wet lips, expose herself fully.

She took the picture. Held it up for me.

There it was. Raw. Unfiltered. Hers.

I looked away for a second. Then back at the screen.

Nodded.

She hit send.

I couldn't believe she sent such a filthy picture. Fuck. It really turned me on.

I was rock hard for her at that moment. We hadn't been able to have sex since the night with Markus, but fuck--I wanted her. I leaned over and started kissing her. She didn't pull away.

My hand roamed her body. I kissed her neck.

"Yes," she moaned. "Please. I've missed you. Please, I need you."

I kissed down until I got to her breast and slowly took a nipple into my mouth, sucking hard.

Her head went back in pleasure. "Yes, baby. I'm all yours tonight."

As I sucked her nipple, my hand found its way down to her wet pussy. Fuck. She was so wet. I'd never felt her like this before.

"Fuck, you're so wet," I whispered into her ear.

She pulled me closer. My fingers slipped inside her. She gasped into my mouth.

God, she felt good. I teased her clit.

"Oh god, right, please don't stop. I need this so bad. Fuck, fuck, yes. Please, I need to cum. I need to cum for you."

"Cum for me, baby."

I felt her orgasm on my finger. Waited as she came down from her high. She leaned into a kiss like she hadn't done that in years.

I climbed on top of her, and we made love. It was gentle. Wonderful. I felt like I had my wife back.

I purposely didn't use a condom. Childishly, I thought if Markus could, I should be allowed to fuck my wife without one too.

I slowly pushed in. She held me tight. Skin to skin. I thrust gently, and she moaned into my ear.

"I love you."

"I love you too," I said, kissing her deep and passionate.

"Fuck, I'm going to cum," I murmured.

To my surprise, she replied: "Do it. Cum in me. Please?"

One last stroke, and I came inside her.

Afterwards, we fell asleep together. I held her in my arms all night.