Sarah Feeds Cum to Her Cuckold

I never thought I'd be the kind of guy spilling his guts like this, confessing the most humiliating night of my life to anyone who'll listen. But here I am, Mark, a 35-year-old accountant with a safe job, a modest house in the suburbs, and a wife who's turned our stale marriage into her personal playground of depravity. Lisa and I have been together for eight years now—married for six—and for the last couple of years, things in the bedroom have been... lackluster. My dick? It's average at best, maybe five inches on a good day, and Lisa's always been vocal about wanting more. At first, it was playful teasing: "Come on, Marky, give it a little thrust!" But it escalated. She started talking about her coworker Jake during pillow talk, describing how she caught glimpses of his bulge in the office, how the other women whispered about it. "God, imagine that monster stretching me out," she'd moan while I pumped away futilely inside her.

I should've been mad, but fuck, it made me hard. Rock hard. The shame twisted into this sick arousal I couldn't shake. We'd role-play it—me pretending to be the cuck, her the hotwife—but she pushed for real. "I need it, baby," she'd whisper, grinding on my lap. "Just once. You watch. It'll spice us up." I resisted at first, but she wore me down with her confidence, her killer body—curvy hips, D-cup tits, long auburn hair—and that dominant gleam in her green eyes. Last week, she made me agree: tonight, in our bedroom, Jake comes over. I sit tied to the chair, watch her fuck him. Consensual cuckolding, she called it. Our new kink. My small-dicked humiliation already had me leaking pre-cum just thinking about it, dread pooling in my gut like hot lead. Part of me hoped she'd chicken out. Deep down, I knew she wouldn't.

The doorbell rang at exactly 8 PM. My heart hammered as I let Jake in. He's 6'3", built like a linebacker from the gym, with a cocky grin and dark stubble. Lisa sauntered down the stairs in a sheer black robe that barely hid her lacy red lingerie, her nipples already poking through. "Hey, big boy," she purred, kissing him deep right there in the foyer while I stood frozen. She grabbed his hand and led him up, glancing back at me with a wicked smile. "Bedroom, cucky. Chair's ready."

That's how we started this twisted game—my idea, tying myself to the wooden chair in the corner of our king-sized marital bed. Soft ropes around my wrists and ankles, loose enough to escape if I panicked, but tight enough to make me feel trapped. I stripped to my boxers as instructed, my pathetic five-incher already tenting the fabric. Lisa made me show it to her before tying the knots. "Aww, look at that little guy," she'd cooed, flicking it. "Jake's gonna ruin me for you forever tonight." Now, as they entered, the air thick with her perfume and his musky cologne, my cock throbbed painfully against the restraints.

Lisa paraded Jake in like a prize stallion, her robe slipping off one shoulder to reveal the swell of her breast. She pushed him onto the bed—our bed, with the sheets we picked out together—and turned to me, eyes gleaming. "See this, Mark? Your replacement." She untied her robe fully, letting it pool at her feet. The red lace bra and thong hugged her curves perfectly, her ass cheeks spilling out invitingly. Jake lounged back, smirking at me as he unzipped his jeans. Lisa sauntered over, hips swaying, and yanked my boxers down. My dick sprang free, hard and twitching, a bead of pre-cum glistening at the tip. "Pathetic," she laughed, stroking it once roughly. "Look at this sad little erection. You're hard already, aren't you? Just from knowing he's gonna fuck me better than you ever could."