Cuckold Marriage - Cuckold Honeymoon

Cuckold husband story

 

 

Cuckolded Husband Honeymoon

  

  

 

When I was young I was a fool. When my future wife to be refused full sexual

intercourse before the marriage day, I assumed this was quite normal,

respectable behaviour on her part, the natural reaction of a nice, middle

class girl true to her upbringing. Only later did I discover that Moira

wasn’t ‘respectable’ at all! At the time though I couldn’t see past the

smooth curves of her ample breasts, tightly constrained beneath her thin,

skin-hugging tops, or separate my gaze from the marvelous mounds of her

perfect, round and inviting buttocks.

 

Moira loved to encourage me to play with her breasts. She’d laugh at my

nervous, still almost adolescent, fumbling attempts to ‘touch up’ her tits,

but she almost always allowed my wandering hands to find their way under her

stretched woolen jumper. How I loved to feel the weight of her globes in the

palms of my hands. Touching and stroking the incredibly taught smooth nylon

of her bra cups made my stomach turn flip-flops! Even today I get a kick out

of thinking back to how my unsteady finger-tips would gradually work nearer

and nearer to the engorged, protruding firmness of her nipples. Moira liked

me to work her large and prominent nipples between my fingers, rolling them

around through the thin, silky material of the brassiere. Of course I’d get

a huge erection, but I was never allowed to relieve myself in her presence

in any way, never mind actually fuck her.

 

“Wait until we’re married darling, then I’ll make you happy” was her

watchword. She’d keep me pleasuring her divine, feminine orbs for ages, with

my balls getting bluer by the minute, and my pre-cum wetting my underwear,

but I never dared risk upsetting this goddess by suggesting going any

further. Every night in bed I’d wank myself silly thinking of her. Just

imagining being allowed to actually suck those huge nipples was enough to

make me cum with huge gushes of wasted spunk spurting into my hand.

 

The day finally came when Moira consented to marry me. I walked down the

isle with a penis like an iron rod in my trousers, thinking about getting

Moira into bed at last on the honeymoon, but fortunately I was able to

arrange my clothing so that it wasn’t too noticeable. In any case, everybody

was looking at Moira, resplendent in layers of virgin white, rather than at

me. The honeymoon first night went off reasonably well. I came too soon of

course, in fact before I’d even managed to get Moira undressed. Yes, just

sucking on those gorgeous nipples did it! Fortunately Moira took a very

understanding view of this episode. Within no time she’d got me hard again,

and before very long the marriage was successfully consummated.

 

What (even at the time) struck me as being - surely - rather unusual, was

that for the rest of the honeymoon I wasn’t allowed to repeat the success of

that first night. Moira kept me at arm’s length, claiming that she felt sure

it wasn’t “normal” for a husband to want to molest his wife too often, not

if he really “respected” her. Well respect Moira I certainly did. She saw to

that. Having had my first fuck of my life with her I was hooked. She was my

goddess. I was infatuated with her. I’d do anything for her. She was always

kind and sweet to me, pulling down the zipper on my trousers, reaching

inside and stroking me into a fervid state of ball-bursting desire whenever

she had me alone… only to then leave in search of a drink or a swim in the

pool. I followed her everywhere like an obedient dog, waiting on her every

whim, hypnotised by the slinky sway of her hips and gentle bounce of those

irresistible tits.

 

 

 

Before long I found myself masturbating alone to relieve the tension. Even I

couldn’t believe this. I was on my honeymoon with the most gorgeous woman on

earth, yet I was being forced to wank off like some teenager to stop myself

going insane with lust. Unable to possess Moira I found myself reduced to

stealing her sexy, silky panties. I spunked huge amounts of creamy white cum

into her shiny knickers, imagining myself pushing my prick up her like the

one and only time I’d been permitted that luxury. Then I’d hide the used

panties in the laundry basket, hoping no-one would look too closely!

 

When Moira made it plain that in the evenings she fully intended dancing

with other men after dinner, as well as me, I took it in my stride. Moira

could do no wrong, and I was determined to take a broad-minded, liberal

attitude to this. At first it was just disco dancing. She never actually

touched her other partners. But then as the two weeks of the honeymoon wore

on, and it was plain I wasn’t going to insist on either my conjugal “rights”

or possessing her as an exclusive dancing partner, Moira began staying on

the dance-floor for the slower numbers too. This really did churn me up

inside. I was forced to watch as my new wife allowed herself to be held

tightly by handsome men who all seemed more confident and experienced than

me. I sat at a side table guarding Moira’s drink, whilst she smooched with

some hunk. I watched in agony as the man’s hands would reach around her back

and press her soft body to him.

 

One evening towards the end of the honeymoon I sat at my side table as a new

latin-looking stranger (and yes, he was - quite literally - tall, dark and

handsome) caressed my wife’s bare back, pressing her sacred breasts to his

broad chest. Then I noticed that he was maneuvering Moira gradually towards

the darkest part of the disco. I strained my eyes to follow their movements.

I could hardly see them through the throng of bodies, but to my absolute

horror I thought I saw him kissing Moira full on the lips. I was in agony. I

couldn’t be sure of what I’d seen, and tried to tell myself that either I’d

imagined it, or Moira was very drunk. I thought about fighting the man…..

and decided I couldn’t do it. He had looked big and muscular, and for all I

knew if I tried to come between him and “his girl” he might produce a knife

or worse. I was terrified for my new marriage, and scared of confronting the

situation. In the end I sidled alone on to the dance-floor, and danced

pathetically, with strange, agonised, nervous jerks, over in their direction.

 

My worst fears were confirmed. Up fairly close, even in the semi-darkness, I

could see the man’s right hand snaking up Moira’s mini-skirt and caressing

the wonderful, round globes of her arse. As he stroked Moira’s bum he pulled

her hips onto his, and with mounting horror I suddenly saw the vague shape

of what could only be the massive bulge of an erect cock in his trousers.

Soon he had Moira’s crotch rubbing against his clearly excited phallus as

they swayed to the slow music. She must be able to feel his cock rubbing

against her? What on earth was she thinking? Why didn’t she break off? What

was I to do?

 

 

 

I remained almost frozen with indecision. Then the man’s strong looking face

bent down to Moira’s again, and they began a long, deep kiss. Oh god, I

thought, he’s putting his tongue into her! If he was, then Moira was clearly

not resisting. The kiss went on and on. The man could be clearly seen

working his fingers inside Moira’s panties now, and with mounting tension

and horror I realised he was thrusting his fingers between her legs from

behind, forcing her mound onto his engorged cock at the front, whilst all

the time keeping his mouth clamped on hers. My wife was being frigged off by

some latin male in front of my very own eyes! I felt my body tense up with

sheer shock, but at the same time I noticed my own prick expanding. I

watched transfixed as Moira was practically fucked on the dance floor and

thought of my own desires to shaft her. It was all too much. I was so

confused. I wanted so desperately to fuck my wife, but if I couldn’t do it I

still wanted to see her getting fucked. The thought of my wife opening her

legs for this man, and being filled with powerful spurts of his semen as he

somehow turned her into a ‘proper’ fuckable woman was almost too much to bear.

 

Moira hadn’t seen me, but suddenly her partner did. He plainly noticed me

staring, but his only reaction was to say, quite loudly, to my wife: “I’m

going to put one finger up your arse now, and then you’re going to follow me

to my room!” I watched as the shadow of his forefinger made gentle thrusting

movements inside her panties. Moira groaned, a deep, hungry, sexual groan of

desire. He held my wife’s body to him as she wiggled her arse, impaled on

his finger. Moira’s lips curled open, looking thick and sensual, as she

threw her head back, clearly in ecstasy. Whether she was quite cuming or not

was not clear, but to my shame _I_ did! I was conscious of the biggest

erection of my life in my pants and a superb sensuous feeling in the

knob-head of my cock as it pressed against the tight elastic of my pants’

waistband. Then I was cuming helplessly. My spunk flooded out soaking my

trousers, right there on the dance floor. It felt so good, but I almost

collapsed with the joy of release. Even after cuming my shrinking dick moved

slickly through the thick sliminess of my cum, and it still felt great.

 

My mind was in turmoil though. My wife was by now heading off to her lover’s

room, without ever having noticed my presence. I was helpless with jealousy,

but also overwhelmed by sexual release and sheer physical pleasure. If this

was what being cheated on felt like…. I was interested in knowing more!

 

 

 

Seeing my wife of just under two weeks leave the disco with her lover

brought me out of my state of shock somewhat. I was embarassingly conscious

of my semen-soaked trousers, and whilst I was pretty sure nobody would see

anything in the poor light of the disco, I headed back to our honeymoon room

trembling at the knees with excitement at what I had experienced. As I

cleaned myself up and got ready for bed I thought about what the stranger in

the disco would now be doing to Moira, my wife. I couldn’t get the thought

of his huge cock opening her up out of my head. I visualised him on top of

her, sucking her perfect tits into his mouth, and pushing his magnificent

manhood slowly into her gently yielding love box. I imagined his rough lips

on hers, rubbing away her pink lipstick with his passion, as his tongue

forced its way into her mouth. Then I thought about his spunk coming out of

him, and jetting upwards into my wife, and her loving every minute of his

penetration of her body. How would she react when she found me still awake

in bed when she eventually returned, assuming that she did come back tonight

at all? Would she be calm, as if nothing had happened, all the time walking

around the room with that man’s load inside her? I couldn’t sleep and waited

hours for her, waited with a throbbing cock I didn’t dare attend to.

 

Eventually, about five o’clock in the morning, I heard a key turn in the

hotel room door. I didn’t say anything, but listened intently as Moira’s

silent outline made its way to the side of our honeymoon bed. She was

obviously trying not to wake me, but I needed to talk to her and see what

kind of state she was in. I felt nervous, angry, self-pitying and hot for

Moira’s body all at the same time. Steeling myself to some kind of

confrontion I turned the bedside lamp on.

 

Moira froze. She was just about to get into bed beside me, and looked

startled. Other than surprise though she didn’t look too unkempt; she’d

obviously had time to groom herself after satisfying herself on that other

man’s cock. This was the first time I’d seen Moira looking somewhat less

than confident, and emboldened by her worried, surprised look, I built up

courage to act the part of the outraged husband.

 

“Where the hell have you been?” I barked at her. A quick flash of anger

distorted her beautiful face. Before I could say anything else the open palm

of her hand slapped heavily across my cheek, her long, red nails tearing my

skin like claws. “Never speak to me like that again!” my wife mouthed

quietly to me, barely controlled outrage quivering in her voice. This was

the moment which changed my life. Even then I knew it. Should I attempt to

hit Moira? Should I show her who was going to be boss in this marriage? Or

should I simply get up and leave? For a moment I hesitated, but deep down I

knew what I had to do. I crawled to her, Moira my goddess. I implored her

forgiveness, and whimpered on about how I’d learn to control my stupid male

jealousy, if only she’d forgive me and let me stay with her. I’d serve her

loyally all my days. I’d work hard and have my pay-cheque paid into her

account every month. I’d do anything, but - please Moira - allow me to stay

with you!

 

 

As my apologies multiplied I got more and more scared that she really would

leave me, the only woman I had ever fucked! As if to prove my loyalty to her

I literally crawled out of bed and knelt before her. When she said nothing

at first I was afraid, but when she still said nothing I felt encouraged….

she was listening to me! I tried hard to accurately assess the effect of my

every word on her, stealing glances up at her divine features from my

position at her feet. It was clear she was listening, and was interested.

After a few minutes the acute anger died from her face, to be replaced by

something more akin to contempt and triumph. She had won, and she knew it. A

few more minutes and she was in bed beside me, staring at me, her mood by

now almost contemplative.

 

By now I was telling her that I knew I had no right to question her

movements. I had to trust my wife, and if she wanted to dance with other

men, well, of course I couldn’t object. If she wanted to let other men hold

her, well, that was OK. If she wanted to socialise with other men in their

rooms, who was I to object?

 

She smiled. Moira actually smiled again. I was happy. I loved this woman who

could forgive me raising my voice to her. Laying on her back Moira spread

her legs apart and motioned me to put my head between her thighs. I did so,

crawling down into the bed beneath the sheet. Moira took my hair in her

hands and pulled my head up to her feminine mound of light brown hair. Then

she pushed my nose into her labia and held me there. The smell of sex was

overpowering. I breathed in deeply, and my little, shrivelled cock began to

relax and expand again. Moira just held me there. For several minutes she

said nothing, though once satisfied that I had understood that I was not to

move, she let go of my hair and began gently stroking and caressing my head,

and running her exquisitly sharp nails over my bare back.

 

As the minutes passed my heart rate slowed. I was in heaven. Moira loved me

in her own strange way, and we were finding a way of living together. I

tried to show my appreciation by licking Moira’s already damp labia, but she

tapped me sharply on the head until I stopped. After a few more minutes

though she began talking to me again, and I learned how things were going to

be between us from now on.

 

“You don’t need to worry about Lars,” she told me firmly. “You’re my

husband and as long as you’re loyal to me, obey me, and look after me, I’ll

stay with you. But you may as well know that I didn’t choose you to marry me

because of your body! I chose you because of your one key quality: loyalty.

I reserve my right to fuck whomsoever I choose. You’ll fuck nobody without

my say-so. I might choose to mate with you ocassionally. Then again I might

not. Either way you’re going to have to learn to control that nasty

masturbating habit of yours. You needn’t think I don’t know all about it!”

 

 

 

All the while she was laying down the law Moira stroked my head and my

shoulders. She held me tight between her wonderful thighs, and every now and

again pushed my nose a little harder against the wet, soft entrance to her

hole. “I’ll be laying down lots of rules for you,” she continued, “and

you’ll have to enjoy obeying them if you want to stay with me.

 

“This is your first test. You may as well know that Lars and I have

been to bed together.” - As if I hadn’t already guessed! - “We have made

love, more than once, and I enjoyed it very much. Lars is obviously a

very practiced lover, and really knows how to please a woman. He’s better at

it than you’ll ever be! For one thing, he’s really well hung. His beautiful

male cock is so much bigger than yours darling; you could never compete with

him. He has the most wonderful broad, flat chest, fascinating, powerful dark

eyes, and balls the size of hens’ eggs. His cock must be at least twice as

long and thick as yours. When he put it up me I almost came straight away,

he stretched me so much. When he pumped his powerful tool up and down me, he

took me to heaven and back. He made me cum and cum and cum. I was his. He

waited until I was exhausted by my orgasms, and _then_ he spunked me. It was

superb darling. I could feel his massive balls dangling between my legs, and

feel them tightening as he got ready to fill me with his load. When he

ejaculated I was too tired to cum again, but he looked me in the eyes as his

semen gushed out of his giant prick into me, telling me I was his, and I

knew it was true. After he’d finished cuming he made me lick his lovely tool

clean. In between stuffing his cock in my mouth he made me promise not to

allow you sex until he said so, but I know you love me, and I know you’ll

enjoy waiting for me darling.

 

“Now! Prove to me you accept all this by sucking me off. My pussy is full of

Lars’s creamy white spunk of course, but I want you to suck me really

hard all the same, and no playing with yourself either!”

 

 

 

With that Moira raised my chin a little and slid down the bed just a

fraction. Before I had time to think her mound was pressing on my mouth. I

found my tongue beginning to work on her, opening her luscious passage way.

Inexpertly I fought to breathe and pleasure my dominant woman at the same

time. Then I tasted the spunk. It was true, he really had filled her up. She

was full of it. Thick, stringy blobs of cum plastered my lips, and I was

forced to drink it down. The taste wasn’t too bad, but the thought that this

was another man’s milk I was sucking from my own wife’s cunt had my prick

rock hard. How I wanted to get on top of Moira and plunge my own weapon into

her hole, joining my own liquid to his. I thought about my own, apparently

rather slim and inadequate, penis sliding through the semen-rich slickness

of Moira’s vagina, but I had to accept it wouldn’t be allowed.

 

Eventually Moira came and pronounced herself satisfied that I’d proved my

loyalty to her. “This is only the beginning though,” she was keen to

explain. “I’ve got plans to keep my little husband a proper, respectable,

chaste little husband, and I’m sure he’ll enjoy them! There are ways for

wives to keep cuckolded husbands happy and faithful which will still allow

me to keep my promise to Federico. They may seem a bit strange at first, but

I’m sure you’ll come to thank me for keeping you in a permanent state of

sexual tension. You and I may be going on a little shopping trip tomorrow,

so bring your credit cards darling; I want to spend some of our money on

keeping you happy!”

 

With that I was told to go to sleep now, but though Moira was soon

peacefully sleeping, and I was totally exhausted from the previous few hours

of nervous tension and lack of sleep, my aching balls just would not let me

rest. That and the thought of what on earth it might be that Moira want’d to

buy me tomorrow! One thing was clear to me though: I had just let Moira take

charge of my life, humiliate me in ways which most men would never accept,

and yet I felt only a profound happiness, almost elation, conquering what

remained of my infantile jealousy. Moira had promised to keep me hers

forever if I obeyed her, and that was all that mattered to me!

 

 

 

The following morning both Moira and I slept in late. We were both tired

after the events of the previous night, and Moira didn’t even wake up until

about 11 o’clock. I awoke with an unrelieved massive hard-on about half past

nine, but I remembered Moira had said something about me not masturbating,

and I was not about to risk her anger. Instead I lay in bed next to my

marital Mistress for over an hour, absorbing the warmth of her soft,

feminine body, and thinking about her and Lars, her latin looking lover

of the previous evening. I had decided that I enjoyed obeying Moira, even

when she was forbidding me sex, but I felt a great deal more uncertain about

Lars’s role in this complicated situation. _He_ had said Moira was not

to permit me sex until _he_ said so. Who was he to say such a thing?

Certainly Moira was clearly taken with his body, but I was still Moira’s

husband, I told myself. It was one thing being made to wait an indefinite

period for sex by your wife, quite another when ordered about, even

indirectly, by her lover.

 

Yet what could I do about it? Nothing! Time though, I told myself, was on my

side. Our honeymoon trip would be coming to an end in a couple of days, and

we would have to return to England, dreary gray Liverpool skies, and some

kind of blessed normality. At least Lars would be left behind! Moira

would no doubt continue to assert her newly established right to copulate

with whomsoever she chose from time to time, but I’d be used to the idea by

then, and perhaps I’d be able to figure out ways to deal better with the

situation.

 

When Moira awoke, she reminded me about her proposed shopping trip, after

first flicking the still engorged knob of my prick with her long,

pink-painted finger-nails and laughing dismissively. “Put little Willy

away,” she told me. “I don’t want my reputation ruined by anyone spotting my

husband’s inadequacies!” I grimaced at the insult, but wisely kept quiet.

“Good boy” she reassured me. “Don’t worry. You mustn’t play with him, but

we’ll get some things today which will make your temporary chastity a little

bit easier on you”. Moira always had enjoyed being mysterious!

 

 

 

After a late breakfast we were on our way to the local resort shopping

centre. “The shops aren’t brilliant darling,” Moira pouted at me, “but I’m

pretty sure they’ll have what I’ve got in mind to begin your training”. I’d

been too busy enjoying looking at Moira’s carefully made up lips to

concentrate much on what she was saying, but that word “training” grabbed my

attention. “Just walk one step behind me, and don’t speak unless spoken to,

unless it’s really necessary”. I heard her words, but I could hardly believe

she was talking to me like this, and in public! Part of me felt angry, but

her treatment of me seemed to be making my cock stir again, so I just

nodded obediently.

 

Before long we arrived at a women’s “lingerie and bridal accessories” shop.

After a brief study of the shop’s windows Moira led me inside. I enjoy

looking at women’s underwear as much as any red-blooded male, and my eyes

drank in the mannequins in their tight, stretchy panties and under-wired

brassieres. Most had wigs and had even had the faces made up. They really

looked quite fetching. While my eyes wandered over to a tall, slim tailor’s

dummy with long legs and rather large breasts, decked out in sheer black

stockings, black satin knickers, and a beautiful lacy basque, Moira

attracted a sales’ assistant. “I’m interested in a standard, firm-control

panti-girdle,” I heard her say. “I want something that’s a fairly full

design, but in a small size, perhaps a 26/28 inch waist?” The sales’ girl

promptly disappeared under the counter and returned a few seconds later with

several packages.

 

“This is the Berlei, Madame,” she explained. “It has an extra firm control

panel at the front. 79% nylon polymide, 21% elastane, available in black or

white only.” I was inwardly cringing. Moira meant me to control by male

appendage by crushing it, it seemed! Still, I liked the black.

 

“The white’ll do fine,” Moira decided. “I’ll take two, one in a 26 inch, one

in a 28.” I kept quiet, not daring to express an opinion. Moira told me to

pay, and within half an hour we were back at the hotel.

 

“Well done,” my wife congratulated me when we were back in our room. “You

didn’t protest, which is just as well mind you, because I was going to tell

the sales’ assistant who the panti-girdles were for if you had!” In no time

she had me trying on the girdles over my cotton briefs. When I’d got one on,

after somewhat of a struggle with the tight, constricting garment, to my

surprise Moira put her slim hand down the back of my girdle, reached between

my legs, grabbed my crushed but semi-erect penis, and pulled it hard

backwards, so that my knob was practically sticking up my own bum. Then she

pulled the girdle up my legs another inch. My balls seemed to have almost

disappeared inside my body. The effect was a little uncomfortable until my

semi-erection wore off, but from the front my hips now looked quite feminine.

 

“You’ll wear one of these girdles from now on” I was informed. “I don’t

think you’ll be chatting up many other women while you’ve got a panti-girdle

on underneath your trousers, will you darling? And I don’t expect you’ll be

getting any silly ideas about challenging any of my men friends to a fight

or anything silly either, will you? When you go to the bathroom you’ll have

to use a cubicle, and remember, I’ll be checking all the time to make sure

that nice, tight, firm-control panel is still in place helping you keep

yourself under control, so no cheating, or I’ll never make love to you

again, OK? Eventually you can buy yourself a whole range of corsetry

perhaps, but this will do for now. Wear one in bed as well, whether I’m

there or not. It’ll help you resist being naughty and touching yourself up.

My little husband must keep all his pent up spunk in his balls for his wife,

mustn’t he darling?” she concluded as she kissed me fully on the lips,

deeply and sensously. My cock hardly stirred so constricted was it, though I

still felt a rush of lust for Moira’s body.

 

 

 

The rest of the day proceeded relatively normally, but when evening

approached, I was informed that my wife had a dinner date with Lars,

and that I was not invited, though “if I behaved myself, one day I might

be!” A pang of jealously ran through me, but then the thought occured to me

that with Moira out of the room, I could at least wank myself off if I

wanted to. I could always put the panti-girdle back on afterwards, I told

myself, and Moira wouldn’t know anything about it. Unfortunately Moira

seemed to have the same thought. After a snack and being ordered to relieve

myself, Moira left for her date with Lars, having first got my

agreement to my wrists being manacled in front of me with my own thin

leather belt. It was quite comfortable, except that I had to flex my wrists

every few minutes to keep the blood flowing to my hands and avoid a bad case

of pins and needles. Although my hands were tied at my front, my prick was

firmly folded away behind me, and I found I couldn’t stimulate it at all, no

matter how hard I stretched my fingers! She had done it! I was in a crude

form of chastity belt. It was 100% effective, and I was entirely dependent

upon my wife for my release. I supposed that in an emergency I might be able

to work the leather over a knife, but if I cut the belt Moira would discover

my crime. I was caught.

 

As the hours passed I could not help but imagine Moira’s romantic evening.

Sometimes as I grew excited visualising Lars’s renewed seduction of my

wife I felt I was almost cuming, but it was impossible. The panti-girdle

held my cock under lock and key, and a pathetic semi-erection was the best I

could manage. I could rub my frustrated knob through the girdle on the edge

of a table or other object, but I couldn’t get enough friction to really

pleasure myself. I had felt sorry for myself having to wank into my wife’s

knickers on my own honeymoon to gain relief; now I couldn’t even do that!

Lars would be shafting Moira before long I knew, pumping as much spunk

into another man’s wife as he cared to, making her orgasm again and again on

his massive latin cock, whilst I couldn’t even give myself a hand-job any

more. For a short time I cried, but I felt I loved Moira more than ever, and

she had hinted that she’d give me some sexual relief at some stage, hadn’t she?

 

 

 

About midnight I got a shock. A key rattled in the hotel room door. I hadn’t

expected Moira back so soon! My panti-girdle and belt were still firmly in

place, so that was OK. I hoped Moira was OK. She was. And so was Lars.

She had invited him back to our room - I couldn’t believe it. Shamed by my

bonds I tried to hide my hands, but Moira already had the light on and was

introducing me! “This is my husband,” she explained. “You said you wanted to

meet him Lars… well here he is, trussed up and ready like you said!” I

felt a wave of cold shock come over me, and collapsed to my knees, my bound

arms sticking out helplessly in front of me. “Stand up darling,” I heard my

wife’s voice floating somewhere. “Don’t worry. Lars won’t hurt you. I made

him promise. And I want to take your trousers off so we can see your girdle.”

 

With that Moira hauled me to my feet, loosened the belt in my trousers,

pulled down the zip of my fly, and let my trousers fall to the floor. Of

course the panti-girdle was still there, making me look like a pansy. I

couldn’t believe my nice, normal, middle-class Moira was doing this to me.

“Now sit in the chair darling” she continued. “Lars wants to fuck me on our

bridal bed, and he wants you to watch”. I struggled to obey, and saw Moira

fall on the bed with ‘Lars’. Quickly he was at her, one hand manipulating a

gorgeous breast through her blouse and bra, whilst the other held her head

to his as he tongue kissed her. Having got things under way ‘Lars’ then

appeared to want to take things slowly. Before my very eyes my wife’s

clothing was removed, ever so slowly, item by item, until she was naked

before him. First her thin, almost transparent blouse went, then her tight,

short skirt was unzipped from the side and allowed to fall. Moira was

wearing a suspender belt and very expensive, sheer stockings. Her panties

stayed on for a while as this hunk of a latin male rubbed two powerful

fingers over Moira’s crotch. She allowed him to masturbate her. His lips

sucked her tits through the shiny material of her bra, making her nipples

stand out. Moira’s hips ground backwards and forwards on his hand as her

eager mouth sort his.

 

Next her panty-briefs were removed, and Lars turned sideways on the bed for

a few minutes to give my wife a good tonguing between her legs. I could only

watch in horror as she ground her cunt into his face. Then came the

stockings and suspender belt. The stockings were flung in my direction, and

I manouvered them to my face, smelling Moira’s female scents as her more

virile lover continued to prepare her to receive his liquid. Finally Moira’s

brassiere was removed, leaving my wife stark naked before the still fully

clothed Lars. Now Moira sat up a bit, and unzipped the man’s fly. I

followed her every movement as her hand went inside his trousers and pulled

out that gigantic cock. I could see his balls now, huge and round,

protruding from his clothing. Moira bent her face to his cock and proceeded

to suck him into her mouth, at least as best she could. Her pink lipsticked

lips worked themselves up and down his bulbous knob, as well as as much of

his massive shaft as she could manage.

 

I wanted to cum desperately, but could do nothing, except watch, fascinated.

In a few more minutes Lars was nude also, and I knew I was about to watch

my wife get well and truly fucked by another man’s cock. Lars’s huge tool

protruded like a flag-pole from his body. I couldn’t help but stare at it’s

length and thickness, calculating it to be at least twice the size of mine.

I began to feel really seriously inadequate. No wonder Moira preferred other

men. Perhaps I couldn’t really blame her for going to real men for sex. How

could I even dream of filling her up properly after she’d been stretched

open by a monster cock like that? I felt that if I were a woman, I’d

probably want a proper man’s cock too!

 

Moira now grabbed her new man’s penis and guided it to her lips again. Her

beautifully painted, sexy, feminine lips curled around his knob. Then she

was licking it, up and down, up and down, whilst gently manipulating her

lover’s balls in her hand. Next those balls disappeared into Moira’s mouth,

one after the other, as she sucked hard on her male’s scrotal sac. Lars was

in ecstacy, groaning wildly as Moira’s tongue played with his testicles.

After a few minutes of this, during which - to my amazement - Lars’s

cock seemed to lengthen and fill out yet another inch, Moira lay down on the

bed, opened her legs, and guided her man into her body. I watched paralysed

with lust as the gigantic male member nudged open my wife’s cunt, and then

began to disappear from sight inside her. Suddenly Lars seemed to lose

control. He began to rut like a desperate animal, thrusting his weapon again

and again up Moira’s slippery hole. Faster and faster he fucked her. Moira

looked elated. “Yes, yes. Do it to me. Fuck me. Make me cum. Spunk me Lars,

I want you,” she moaned. Within seconds Lars was doing as invited and

ejaculating his spunk into my wife. He really shoved hard at Moira as he

came, holding her shoulders down on the bed as he delivered his load into

her, her tits wobbling and rippling with each male orgasmic thrust. In a way

it was a beautiful sight, but I was an emotional wreck, and I could feel my

own little cock trying and failing to grow beyond about three or four inches

inside the imprisoning panti-girdle.

 

 

 

Somewhere deep inside of me a very small part of my ego was still alive and

wanted to fight for Moira, but mainly I felt crushed and defeated. Lars had

fucked Moira, but Moira had fucked my mind, my soul. She had shown me that

she could do anything she wanted to me, humiliate me in any way she liked,

rob me of my manhood, and yet _still_ I would love her, depend upon her,

crawl to her. I felt almost as if Moira had tricked me into allowing her to

cut my balls off, yet somehow I was proud of her for doing that to me. What

a woman, what a goddess! I had sold my soul to her and I was glad about it.

I only wanted to discover more of life with this wonderful woman. What else

could she possibly dream up for our marriage? Whatever it might be I was

going to give it a chance!

 

I was (quite literally) in a state of shock. I had just been forced to

witness my bride being taken by her virile, latin lover. Lars had

finished with her for now. Lazily and full of manly confidence he withdrew

his still huge and well lubricated cock from up my wife. I watched intently,

noting every thick globule of spunk on his shiny knob as it reappeared from

within Moira’s shapely body. When he stood up, leaving Moira prone on our

honeymoon bed, his member bounced in the air before him, still about

three-quarters erect, and enjoying the freedom which my own pathetic willy

was denied, being held tightly confined inside the new, over-small sized

panti-girdle my wife had made me buy earlier that day. I had a sudden

horrible thought that maybe the girdle had been Lars’s idea, and probably

the belt too, which held my wrists together before me. I was trussed like a

turkey, and almost felt like I’d been slaughtered. Every muscle in my body

felt rigid with shock. I felt light-headed, almost as if I might faint at

any moment.

 

Moira moaned quietly in a satisfied, exhausted tone. The noise drew my eyes

from Lars’s phallus back to the body of this woman who was legally

mine, but whose slave it was clear I had become. She was laying on her back

with her superb, perfectly smooth thighs spread wantonly apart. As I watched

she shifted a little, and a thread of her man’s cum slowly slid from inside

her and began to slither down her cunt lips on to the bed. Lars’s eyes had

followed mine and he guffawed loudly. Then, for the first time, he spoke to

me rather than Moira. “Looks like you’ve been well and truly put in your

place, doesn’t it?” he smirked at me. “I’ve always wanted to have another

man’s bride, and now I’ve done it. I don’t know why women bother marrying

pansy wimps like you. Must be for the money or the security I suppose. Well

she’ll never be satisfied with your little prick again now you know. I’ve

shown her what it’s really like to be taken by a man. She won’t want your

pathetic efforts any more!”

 

I didn’t dare say a word. Lars looked broad-chested, strong and muscular. I

had my wrists tied together. He had just fucked my wife in front of me and

I’d done nothing. I wasn’t about to do anything rash now. It was still a

shock though when this potent, nude male walked over to me, lifted me out of

my chair, held me to him, and kissed me full on the lips. I struggled to

escape but resistance was hopeless. One arm was all it took Lars to hold me

in his iron embrace. I felt nothing as his lips fastened on mine, neither

stimulation nor repugnance…. only sheer fright! In a second his free hand

was on the crotch of my Berlei panti-girdle, his strong fingers reaching

between my legs, following the slim form of my ensheathed penis. He rubbed

my encased knob vigorously for a few seconds, and then let me go. I fell to

my knees. My world was collapsing.

 

 

 

On the edge of consciousness I heard Moira say: “Leave him alone Lars. You

promised me you wouldn’t hurt him.”

 

“I’m not hurting you little pansy, am I now?” Lars cooed at me. “Don’t

worry, I’m not a homosexual, and I’m not going to rape you, but you have to

show me you accept my right to shaft your wife any time I like. You know,

dominant male, that sort of thing. No…. maybe you don’t, but you’re going

to learn quick!”

 

With that Lars got close to me again. His prick had cooled to about half

it’s previous maximum size by now. It was dangling loosely in front of what

women would no doubt refer to as his “well hung” testicles. With horror it

dawned on me that having collapsed on to my knees, my mouth was now within

about two inches of his knob. “Suck me,” Lars commanded. “Take my knob in

your pretty little mouth and suck me. It’s your responsibility as Moira’s

husband you know! You really should see to it that you keep her lover’s cock

nice and big for her. Lick my penis, anwhen it’s hard again we’ll see what

Moira wants me to do with it, shall we?”

 

I started shaking. My nerves had gone completely. “Careful Lars”, Moira

said quietly.

 

“Look little man,” Lars responded, “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not

going to force you to do anything you don’t want to. Look, I’ll even let you

go if you want.” With that he reached forward and, with a sharp tug, undid

the belt buckle imprisoning my wrists. I was free!

 

“Thank you Lars”, Moira congratulated her man. She stood up now and, after

rummaging in a drawer for a moment, pulled on a pair of lacy red french

knickers and matching bra. I hardly dared look at her anymore. I felt as if

I’d lost the right even to ogle my wife’s body. “You’re still my husband,” I

heard her say. “Look at me!” I looked. Tears were in my eyes but I was too

emotionally used up to cry. “Tell me you love me” she commanded. I obeyed,

in a high-pitched, squeaky voice I didn’t recognise as mine. “Again!”

 

“I love you Moira,” I managed. “I’ll always love you, and adore you, and

need you.”

 

 

 

“That’s better,” she told me. Then she came over to me, and knelt beside me.

Gently she pushed her breast to my mouth. “Suck me” I was told. “Put your

arms around me. Hold me, and suckle my breast.” Hardly conscious of what I

was doing, yet knowing that with every moment that passed I was making

myself more dependent upon her, I obeyed. My arms went around Moira’s

shoulders, and she slid me on to my back like a baby so that she could feed

me her tit. Taking my weight on her thighs, she allowed me to suckle through

her bra. Then she slipped the nipple from under the material and pushed it

into my mouth. For a good five minutes I suckled gently. Gradually I came

round a bit. I still felt confused, but now instead of being frightened I

began to experience a sense of being comforted and cared for. A huge weight

seemed to ease from my mind. Moira did love me.

 

When, with her free hand, Moira began gently to stimulate my crotch, I

relaxed even more. There was no chance of cuming unless she removed the

girdle from me of course, but once again lust began to violate my senses.

All this time Lars had remained standing next to Moira. Now she sat me up

again, and reached for Lars’s penis. I was made to face Moira, who was now

sitting cross-legged, on my knees, with Lars standing almost over us.

Once more Moira made me lean forward and take her gorgeous, round, feminine

breast between my lips, this time through her bra again. After only twenty

seconds or so Moira reached out with one hand and grasped Lars’s limp cock.

I watched open-eyed as she manipulated his foreskin back and forth only

inches away from me. Gradually his manhood began to expand afresh. Before

his shaft could rear up too far, Moira took her free hand and held my head

to it’s nipple sucking task. Then with her other hand still on Lars she

guided his knob towards me. Slowly she rubbed his penis up and down on the

smooth material of her bra, first on the breast further from me, then

transferring his expanding shaft to the same globe I was suckling. Now his

knob was only an inch from my lips, indenting the same bra cup I was sucking.

 

“Remember,” Moira told me. “Lars wasn’t lying. We don’t want you to do

anything you don’t want to. But I love you, and I want you to suck Lars’s

cock to show me how much you love me! It’ll be an incredibly erotic sight

for me if you do it. I want to see you suck Lars for me. But I want you to

want to do it darling. It’s really quite enjoyable. Believe me, I’ve tried

it. I’m going to put Lars’s cock in your mouth now, so if you keep sucking

my tit that means you agree to sucking his cock, OK?”

 

 

 

I was helpless. I couldn’t reject Moira by refusing to suckle her breasts. I

needed her. I could see Moira’s painted thumb and finger-nails holding on to

Lars’s knob. The seconds passed, and I couldn’t stop sucking Moira. She

brought her lover’s cock right up to my mouth. Then it was thrusting aside

her breast and I found myself tonguing an erect phallus. Moira shifted her

position slightly and held my head in her hands. My lips found that a thick,

fat cock, slickened by my own saliva, was thrusting backwards and forwards

through them. “Good boy” Moira encouraged me. Lars began to enjoy himself.

His thrusts got deeper, until his knob was penetrating the top of my throat

each time he pushed hard. I was in a daze, but when Moira reminded me to

suck and lick her lover’s cock, I did so.

 

Before I knew what was happening he seemed to be getting ready to cum. His

thrusts were bringing his balls to my lips now. Moira held my head firmly.

Then Lars cried out: “Yes, Moira, yes. Hold him, I’m going to do him!”

Three more hard, quick thrusts, and then Lars held his cock in position. My

jaw muscles were aching with being forced open so long, but I thrilled as

his powerful phallus began to quiver in my mouth. His knob was blocking my

throat and I could hardly breathe, but dimly I was aware he was cumming. At

first I felt nothing, but when after a minute he withdrew, the salty, musky

taste of cum was on my tongue. He had indeed mouth fucked me. Moira released

my head and turned me around to look into my eyes. I had been filled with

another man’s cum for her. Gently she kissed me on the lips, her tongue

snaking out and savouring a real man’s juices. I noticed her nipples were

rock hard as she joined her tongue to mine, both of us tasting Lars’s semen

together.

 

When she broke off there was a look of triumph in her eyes. I was rewarded

for my obedience to her desires by having my girdle removed at last. Moira

explained that this would be a rare treat for me, but that in the

circumstances she was sure Lars wouldn’t mind(!). I was given Moira’s

panties and told to put them in my mouth and suck on them. Then I was

ordered to masturbate in front of both Moira and Lars. This I did, shooting

a huge load of pent up spunk into my hand. I had wanted to use a pair of

Moira’s knickers to wank into but was denied that pleasure. Inevitably my

liquid dripped off my hand, so Moira ordered me to rub it into my body, and

then take a shower, before getting back into a clean girdle!

 

For the remainder of that night I slept on the floor by Moira and Lars’s

bed. Lars tied up my hands again “to stop me wanking in the night”. This

was just as well, because in the morning when I awoke it was to the noises

of Lars in rut again, shafting Moira hard and long. I could do nothing

but lay there, listen, and imagine this man making my wife cum on his cock.

I no longer even dreamt for a moment of trying to make him stop. He had

fucked my mouth after all, ejaculated his manly sperm down my throat, and I

probably even still had his spunk in my stomach! I was as much his as Moira

was. When he eventually left to go back to his own room I was almost sad to

see Moira’s lover leave us. She was in such a good mood after being

satisfied by him, and she allowed me to have my wrists freed, and to snuggle

up in bed with her for an hour before a very late breakfast. Of course the

girdle stayed where it was, but Moira rubbed my little prick through the

tight, elasticated garment a bit, and I felt I was in heaven! I had been

required to prove my love to this woman, and I had done it. In the future

she could do what she liked with me, and I knew I’d enjoy it. What could

England bring after this? What would we tell our friends we did on our

honeymoon? I snuggled up to Moira’s warm breasts and dreamed of a long life

of slavery.

 

by Severin's Ghost

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