Tortoise.
Like most young people, I had never even considered the possibility that the term existed, let alone thought I could grow up to be one. Not long ago, the mere thought would have made me angry. I was living a normal adolescence, surrounded by friends, family, sports, and adventure. I was an average teenager attracted to youthful bravado and embracing the masculinity promoted by peer pressure in middle school and high school. If you told me that one day I would step aside and let another man seduce and have sex with my wife, I would probably throw a punch in your direction. However, I think life often has a way of humbling us, and sometimes it does so in ways that can prove quite transformative.
I tiptoed silently to the guest room door again, a habit that had become more frequent in recent weeks. A heat of shame ran across my face, just like my arousal, obvious and unavoidable. The bed in our guest room was rocking back and forth, squeaking with the sexual sound of skin hitting bare skin. I swallowed dry and listened to the love of my life moan loudly in intense pleasure through the crack in the door.
“Oh William! I love your big cock!” my wife yelled excitedly to our guest. I heard William’s manly grunt of satisfaction, then the sound of their lips colliding in lust.
Human sexuality is a complicated thing. I can never fully describe the pain and excitement that my cuckoldry gives me. My little penis stiffens with extreme excitement while I deal with extreme embarrassment. I always listen in amazement as my wife submits herself and our marriage to our special guest.
While it may be impossible to understand the complex layers involved in the new sexual dynamics, perhaps less complex is the age-old idea that penis size matters. While this may not apply to all women, I have no doubt that it applies to most women.
Samantha’s moans grew louder and Williams’ thrusts became more urgent as their bodies pounded together in sexual need. I heard her gasp and my mind turned to the pleasure the other man was giving her, “I’m cumming, William! Oh my god! It’s – it’s huge! I’m cumming on it!!”
Of course, I’ve found this to be true for my wife.
Samantha and I were high school sweethearts, the kind of romantic relationship that is becoming rare indeed in today’s climate. I like to think that we do justice to this idea, taking pride in both a strong marriage and a deep love for each other, even now that we are in our early thirties. She is the only woman I have ever had sex with. I was the only man she was with before William. Sammy is gorgeous in her own way, with a dense body and light brown hair that often comes around her delicate, feminine face. She is shy and quiet most of the time, but inside she is full of sexy confidence, her attractiveness clearly enhanced by her huge breasts and shapely buttocks. Occasionally, she would find a way to escape her withdrawn behavior for a while, usually when the cork started flying from the wine bottle.
We live less than thirty minutes from the same neighborhood we grew up in and Sammy now works as an administrator at the same middle school we attended as kids. I enrolled in a regional trade school and became a skilled mechanic working at a local auto repair shop. Neither of us has huge ambitions and we mostly enjoy lazy weekends and free time to relax together.
We were far from being rich, but we lived a comfortable life in a typical middle-class suburban home. Even though we don’t have kids yet, we know our biological clocks are ticking and we are planning to start this journey in the near future. One thing we already wanted to do was go on a long-awaited vacation to Europe. Neither of us had traveled abroad and we believed it would be more difficult to accommodate such a trip after having kids with our income.
To save some extra cash, I came up with the idea of renting out my spare bedroom during the summer. There is an industrial area and several business complexes within walking distance of where we live. I know a lot of traveling professionals would probably want this room. Of course, what I didn’t plan on was that our sex life would change along the way and I would become a cuckold.
“I’m not so sure, John.” Samantha was quite opposed to the idea after I initially suggested it. “I don’t know how comfortable it feels to have a stranger living in our home.”
“I know Sammy, but think of how much an extra four or five thousand dollars for the holidays will cost,” I replied, understanding his concern. We are trusting people, but we know we need to be cautious when inviting guests into our homes. I added: “I think it goes without saying that we can and will be very careful in our selection. We don’t have to accept the first person who shows interest. Ultimately, if it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out.”
Samantha thought for a moment and took a sip of wine from the grocery store.
I looked at the shoddy vintage and smiled at him across the table, and said, “Think of a four-star hotel, a real Italian dinner.” I looked at the pasta on my plate and pointed at him with my fork, “No Antonio.”
She smiled at me and raised her glass and said, “Expensive wine.”
I nodded: “One bottle per meal is fine.”
The wife smiled and said, “If this continues, we may not even remember that trip.”
Later that night we went to bed and agreed that we would post the rental ad “safely.” The red glasses reduced my wife’s hesitation and the more active version of her was encouraging my penetration.
“Do me baby,” Sammy whimpered as I thrusted back and forth inside of her.
Our sex life has always been good, although in recent years we have seemed to be lacking a certain spark, a certain excitement in the bedroom. I think this is normal for most couples who have been married for many years. However, lately, we have been venturing into some weird and naughty territory.
Granted I’ve never really been a sex dynamo, nor a very talented one, but lately I’ve found myself fulfilling myself more than I ever have before. Samantha’s recent confession only added to the perverted thoughts that had begun to form in my mind.
It was an offhand comment from my wife, and certainly not the first. She was an attractive woman who was often stared at or insulted in public. Once a jealous teenager, I slowly realized that the male attention Sammy was making me feel strangely obsessive. To be honest, it’s hard to say why. The catalyst for these scary thoughts came a few months ago, when Samantha mentioned a similar incident.
“A guy at the hardware store asked me for my phone number today,” she admitted, blushing and embarrassed.
Still keeping calm, I replied, “That’s not surprising, honey. You’re beautiful. Did you give him your cell phone or our home phone number?” I joked.
“Funny John. I actually told him I was so happy but I showed him my wedding ring,” she replied in a concerned tone.
“Why do I feel like there’s more to this story?” I asked, sensing her uneasiness.
“You’ll never believe what he says.” Samantha covered her face with her hands, embarrassed.
“What?” I replied very curiously.
“He said it. Okay. Married women are my favorite!”
When Samantha said these words, I felt a strange thrill inside me and I can’t tell why. I managed to stay calm and replied: “That man is so angry! What did you say?”
“Nothing! I’m leaving!” she replied with a shy smile and said: “I can’t believe it!”
The next night I had an intense and painful dream.
Like all dreams, my memory of it is vague, amorphous, yet paradoxically vivid. When I came home I heard the sounds of passionate sex, a shiver ran down my spine and the hair on the back of my neck stood up as I realized it was my wife having sex. The atmosphere in our home is sleepy, inviting, and somewhat intoxicating.
I walked slowly down the hall, Samantha’s moans growing louder, and it took all the courage I could muster to approach our vaguely familiar bedroom door, and as I turned the doorknob, my hand became wet and trembled.
There she was, legs spread, her voluptuous body enveloped in a foreign, thick male frame. The man had no face, but he was taller and more muscular than me. Their sexual encounter was blurry, as if my own brain was afraid to process the details of what was happening between their legs. I shuddered, hearing the woman I loved moan with unfamiliar ferocity. The muscular muscles of this muscular man were rippling as he thrusted inside her, and even though I couldn’t see down, I knew immediately that he was far more capable than I was.
I woke up with my heart pounding, my skin sweaty, and a small tent on the sheets near my waist. I ran to the bathroom and jerked myself off wildly, reaching a terrifying orgasm.
Sammy’s acceptance was like a seed planted deep in my soul, slowly becoming inevitable as the horrifying thoughts grew. I mustered up the courage to mention the dream to her, which of course surprised her and made her blush with slight embarrassment. She was even more surprised, her eyes wide open and an expression of curiosity and surprise on her face which I will admit became an embarrassing fantasy for me a few weeks later.
When her initial shock wore off, she slapped me playfully while laughing and giggling. She began to appreciate my honesty and said, “You know, as long as I live, I will need you.” That night there was a strange flame in our bed. My wife senses my excitement and my new energy and finds ways to gently motivate me.
Even now, in that moment, she felt it, looking at me as I penetrated her. She said in a teasing whisper, “Are you thinking about me and my boyfriend?”
It was like sexual napalm that consumed me forever, images of Samantha writhing in agony in pleasure flooded my mind. I came, fast and hard. “Fuck!” I mumbled, shuddering against my wife. When I came Samantha smiled and stroked my back lovingly.
“I’m sorry.” I sighed, knowing she hadn’t cum yet. I giggled, knowing full well she knew her teasing would turn me on. I added: “This time it’s your own fault.”
“I can’t help myself. I love knowing how to turn you on,” she replied with a giggle, caressing me gently and then kissing me.
“You always have,” I said, laughing, though I couldn’t help but wonder why this horrible imagery had become so powerful in my mind.
As I predicted, it didn’t take long for us to start seeing some attraction to our extra bedroom posts. In the description, I was clear about who we are as a couple and the overall respect and behavior we expect from our guests. The interest received in a short amount of time was amazing, but one in particular stood out to me.
“Hello John,
My name is William Franklin, and I will be traveling around the region throughout August. I am a one-person consulting firm, so I prefer to rent private rooms rather than stay in hotels for long periods of time because I am not paying for accommodations (I grew tired of hotels early in my career).
Your house is less than ten minutes from my project site and I prefer a quiet residential environment rather than living in the city. I would be very interested in renting this room over the summer, assuming you can confirm the following:
1) I have high-speed internet in my room
2) There is cable TV in my room
3) The guest shower doesn’t have a low-pressure nozzle (my biggest complaint!)
If you can confirm the above, I would be interested in closing on the room quickly and would be willing to pay the asking price plus an additional $250 per month. I needed to get into the area ASAP.
To make myself familiar and avoid contact with others, I have also enclosed a photograph of myself with this email. I am forty-five years old and at this stage of life I am a career minded person. I am divorced by mutual consent and have two sons. I have very little free time when I am in the city, but I am happy to have a friendly home to live in. I hope you will consider my offer and please let me know if you have any questions or concerns.
Will wait for your reply.
William.
When I read his response, I felt a little foolish for not including a note about our network availability, since I realized that any business person would obviously care about the status of their connection. His message was a little abrupt, but it was also clear and concise, which I appreciated. I scrolled down and noticed his photo that no one else had thought of.
He was dressed professionally, looked like a middle-aged man, and must have been in better shape than me.
“For a moment I thought it was you.” I heard my wife’s voice from behind me.
“Huh?” I replied, not understanding what he meant.
“Whoever is on the monitor. He looks like an older version of you, maybe a little older. He’s attractive.”
Samantha blushed as she said this, normally she wasn’t used to admitting her attraction to other men. I guess she felt like she had a free hand because she always thought he looked like me. I certainly didn’t notice the comparison and didn’t necessarily agree with it. However, I noticed the glass of wine in her hand and laughed, even though my body was filled with a strange embarrassment. “You’re so juicy, baby,” I teased.
I could tell she was feeling guilty about the comment and she tried to soften the comment by saying, “Who was that?”
“Well, before you say he’s attractive, he’s probably going to be a house guest,” I joked.
She blushed and covered her mouth with her hands, “I’m sorry.”
“I’m kidding, he’s actually willing to pay us extra if we confirm it soon, he needs to sit down and start a project,” I replied.
“I thought you said we would take our time in this decision. Just because I said he was cute, doesn’t mean he isn’t a serial killer.” My wife, ever concerned, responded.
“I’ll get back to him and say we should talk on the phone tomorrow,” I admitted.
Sammy thought about it for a moment, looked at her picture again and replied, “Okay, I’m going to get ready for bed.” She touched my shoulders as she left the room.
‘William,
Thank you for your attention and I appreciate your thorough answer. I can confirm all three of these are correct (I also hate low pressure rain). I guess you can call me tomorrow whenever you are free. Also include my phone number, and a picture of my wife and me (to answer your desire to get acquainted). Hope to speak soon.
-John’
That night, as I closed my eyes and prepared to sleep, I couldn’t help but feel a strange hope that William’s proposal would come true. Strange as it was, I knew deep down that my wife’s acceptance of his attraction was fueling my hope. I tossed and turned, strangely reminded of that inexplicable fantasy.
He called early the next morning and politely apologized for the time.
“I’m a machinist, so I usually get up at sunrise,” I replied, dismissing her concerns. William has a deep voice and the ability to make engaging conversation. We talked about his work, his possible comings and goings, and I talked a bit about Samantha and me.
“I hope it’s not too forward, John, but that’s my nature. Your wife, she’s very influential.”
His comment took me by surprise, but the ease and confidence with which he spoke disarmed me. I responded stupidly, admitting it to myself: “I saw your picture last night and Sammy remembered you that way too.” I stammered awkwardly: “She thinks we look a bit alike.” I was so awkward when I wondered why I was responding so awkwardly.
Luckily, William handled it well and laughed: “Well, I think I can see some similarities!” He joked again: “He shouldn’t have a sister living nearby, right?”
I laughed, admitting he didn’t. We then changed the topic to payment where we agreed cash or check would be fine. We ended the call and set a date for him to come.
“Okay, John. I appreciate the professionalism with which this was done, especially knowing this isn’t your actual career.”
“I’m glad, William.”
I couldn’t help but feel that there was an underlying calm and subtle dominance in his last comment. “Tell Sammy I look forward to meeting him,” he said.
It’s rare for anyone to call my wife “Sammy.” Her mother and I were the only ones who really did. Some degree of intimacy is usually a prerequisite, but of course William couldn’t have known that because that’s what I called her when I spoke to her. I heard myself casually reply, “I will. See you soon.”
That night, when Samantha came home from work, I greeted her with a smile and excitedly said, “Looks like we’re going to have a lot of cash for our trip!”
His eyes lit up, and then a look of worry appeared on his face: “Did you talk to him? What kind of person is he?”
I had already sensed her anxiety and tried to ease it, “Don’t worry, he seems calm and polite. He gives me a good feeling. He won’t come here often.”
“Then, what’s her name?” he asked as he took a bottle of water out of the refrigerator.
“William, he’s a few years older than us, divorced, has two children and considers himself busy with work. I think you’ll like him.”
Samantha smiled and said, “Why is that?”
I replied, “I don’t know. Like I said, I feel fine.”
My wife tilted her head and looked at me: “Huh? Why did he say that?”
“I sent him a picture of us, just to be polite and to make meeting him for the first time less awkward.”
Samantha was a little scared and looked a little uneasy, “But it’s a bit forward for a man who’s going to live in our house, isn’t it? Doesn’t it make you sad?” she asked curiously. Tao seemed surprised that it didn’t.
I responded casually, mentally acknowledging that the compliment was a bit excessive: “Again, it was said politely. If I thought he was a nuisance, I would have declined his offer. The conversation was natural. I also told him what you said. “He and I look alike and that you find him attractive.” “
“John!” she said, now sitting next to me on the sofa. “Why do you say that? It’s embarrassing to look at him now.”
I grabbed her thighs and gently massaged her legs over her jeans. “Can you relax? It won’t be awkward. We were just joking around and breaking the ice.”
He tucked her hair behind her ears and said in a slightly softer tone, “But you shouldn’t tell her that I think she’s sexy.”
