REQUIEM FOR A CUCKOLD

“I think we should just maybe stay in tonight honey.”

She smiled across at him. It never failed to give him that wonderful feeling of satisfaction, knowing she was his wife, of all the men in the world, she was with him, and loved only him. Did she.

“Why don’t you cook us something, maybe some burgers, and French fries, I guess if you want, maybe go an pick em up, but you know how I like em the way you do em baby, an later on…”

She smiled coyly, touched herself just above her knee, ran a finger slightly up her thigh, then placed the finger near her pouting lips. He stood up, grinning at her Jeez what a sultry smile. How he loved it when she teased, that special thing she sometimes allowed him, that wonderful thing he would do for her. Only her, Hour after hour, just for her, only for her, he swallowed.

“Ok.”

Then headed toward the kitchen. The phone rang.

“I’ll answer it hon, can you get me a drink before you start cooking?”

He was already cooking . The thought of worshipping at her alter, of listening to her soft moans, as he gently ran his tongue up in between those magnificent thighs planting gentle worshipping kisses on the milky way and then, into her, the thought that if he did it so, so, nicely and thoughtfully, pleased her, and brought her off, she might even allow him to. He stopped pushing it away the thought, it had been so long since she had given him relief, she only needed to touch him there, just with her finger tip and he would tremble.

“Mikey, oh my, gee my, well what a surprise. What?”

He heard her giggle excitedly, the sexiest giggle, his heart sank.

“Now…Sure baby…Sure…You wanna come over heah .Yeah Mickey, sure that’ll be fun hon, how long you think?”

She was now laughing raucously, he knew now what he had hoped for was gone, well at least for now, but there would be other times.

“Well yeah, he’s here baby…Well I guess so if that’s what you want honey…You don’t want me to send him out then? Huh?”

Then she went into peels of laughter.

“Gee that’ll be something You sure that’s what you want? darling…Honey if you want it, I’ll make sure it happens.”

More laughter. She wouldn’t be wanting food now, not as he was back in town, he stared at the window, wondering if it would be a good idea to just slip away, come back later when it was over, he could say that he changed his mind, and went to a take away, that they where no burgers in the ice box, he’d just slipped out, and on the way back saw Mike’s car, and thought she and him wanted to be alone so he..

“Bobby…

She shouted out to him, then returned to the voice on the phone.

“What sweet? a French maids outfit…What him…her… not me” Squeals of laughter then called to him “Bobby girl, you got me that drink?.. Yeah honey I think he just got the message.” More laughter.

She was replacing the receiver, a broad grin creasing her face, as he returned, pensively holding her martini. Stretching her arms up into the air languidly , then ran her hands down over her sides and onto her belly. God He thought. She looks fantastic.

“Well, its all happening, Mike’s back, an he’s coming over.

“So!” she laughed.” You have been summonsed for a little amusement…

She took the drink from him, held it to her lips, began sipping slowly. He looked down at the floor just beginning to feel the terrible luxury of shame coursing over.

“Who’s going to be a lucky girl tonight?…Not you! But..”

She pointed a finger up into the air twirled it in a circle, then crooked it at herself pointing it between her legs; raising one leg from the ground and rubbing it against the other.

“Me, me, me. Now…Mike…wants a French maid to…wait on us…While he’s…servicing me, an..”

“Becky”

He interrupted, almost in a whisper, apologetically.

“Becky?”

She returned the name, her voice chiding, as though surprised by his use of it.

“Now…lets get this right. You know by now when Master Mike comes here to service me. He doesn’t allow you to call me…What’s my name,? Go on let me hear you say it…Come on..”

Still looking at the floor, feeling yet more shame, but an inner groin excitement now rising. He ran his tongue across the roof of his mouth, and swallowed any last remnant of pride.

“Miss Rebecca!”

It sounded like a mutter, but was all he could manage.

“What’s that, what’s that, did ah heah you correctly Miss Rebecca, Miss Rebecca, what? Now correct that young lady.”

Her voice was authoritative, yet remained seductive.

Miss Rebecca…Ma’am.

Still his voice trembled though not much more than a mere croak of lust.

“Louder” She barked.

He repeated it, then again, and again. The die was now and forever cast, he had accepted her terms, and would always.

“Now!” Smiling lightly sipping down the remainder of her martini. He gazed after her magnificent buttocks as seductively bouncing as she began walking to the door.

“Get rid of that” Pointing at the empty glass. And get your uniform on, The teeny French maid’s one, I’m going upstairs, oh and plenty of lipstick, the pink, I think”.

Pausing to laugh at her, unintentional rhyme. She dropped her voice.

“Though Master Mike might want a different colour…And plenty of mascara an that little maids frilly hat…Oh loo, la la, an the large panties, he says he wants to see you trying to keep em up.” Then giggled. “An so do I, for that matter. Now get…Barbette. And stand to attention, at the top of the stairs until your wanted.” It sounded like an ultimatum.

He stood, as he was required, dressed for an occasion, silly in fillies. Dressed to thrill, to serve, to be mesmerised by that, that, huge threatening organ she craved and required, she was the real woman, Mike the real man, and he, Robert, had only one purpose, to ensure his wife, his gorgeous wife, any pleasure she so desired, his wife, the real woman. He had been so for more than fifteen minutes before the doorbell rang. Silently he had been praying that when he went to open it, those two girls from across the road would not be hanging around, in their garden. Then remembered those hoots of laughter, from a previous…

The bell rang. He tensed under the wide knickers he felt…

“Barbette. Doooor, quickly.”

The drawling voice would surely carry out into the street. He began hurrying down the stairs, the high heels restraining his pace and the panties already presenting him problems. He could see the large dark figure, shadowed through the glass, he opened the door, another call from the lounge.

“Barbette. Don’t forget to curtsy nicely”.

Then found himself doing just that, curtsying ridiculously as ordered to a huge black male.

“Hya where‘s mah gal?”

The voice boomed and he was passed ignomin’lously before he could even clear his throat to reply. Peering outside the door still wide open, he breathed a sigh of relief. No one about.

He heard her shout.

“Mike eeeeh sweet”.

“Hows ma gal?”

“Oooh, Oh, hon,eeeeh Mmmm”.

Slurping smacking sounds of kissing erupting and pervading the home. Creeping closer to the lounge not daring to breath, then squinting at them embracing each other like a brace of long lost lovers. They were.

She was wearing a Basque, multi suspender. Mike was running both huge hands along the elasticity. The kissing sounded like suction, they broke away then started again. The groin grinding began was pushing her hand under his shirt.

“God what muscles you still working out then Mike?”

A deep throaty laugh a zipper being…then

“Look an see what ah got for ya baby.” He intoned.

She squealed…It was a squeal of delight and appreciation

“Mikeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee”

tonywillis9@btinternet.com