This is my first real story written about my experiences. There have been more than this, but I want to journal and partly re-live the experience here. I wrote it with some of her feedback, and we're both excited about the public element and to see peoples' comments on it. That being said, please be respectful. There's definitely some filthy details and it's very hot, but it's also honest and one hundred percent true. Thanks for reading

Jealousy, Fantasy, and Real Life

In this journal, I will attempt to lay out my incredible experience as a cuckold, with some input from the other players, and I’ll compare our ever- changing monster that is the fantasy of cuckolding vs. the reality that it has grown into. In many ways it’s exactly as the fantasy laid out. In other, very big ways, it is very different. I’ll note that there has been some input from Allie here, at my request, for a more honest account of this all. While it is a very filthy, sexual, erotic story, there are some truths and some facts that are just not as fun. This is not a fantasy. This is my account of a very real group of people in the fall of 2022.

The Proposition:

Around summer of 2018, my then GF of two years and myself were having sex in a cool basement. I had this invasive thought that finally boiled over into my confession.

I’ll back up. I’d known Allie for years. We’d been dating fairly seriously, as seriously as two people in their early twenties could have known, for the past two. Allie is an athletic, intellectual, and contagiously flirty person. When we first started seeing each other, I was the first one who suggested being exclusive. As our connection grew, I became even more adamant that we close off our extra-curricular “friends”. She knew that it was heading that way, and shortly thereafter, we were official. I’d always known how much

attention she was always going to receive from men. She commands it in a captivating, respectful kind of way. She didn’t keep the company of those who’d disrespect her, and her circle was a collection of like-minded professionals, who played outside as much as any dirtbag group of drug- ridden, alcoholic ski bums I’d spent my teens and twenties with. I knew quickly that jealousy was a trait that would not last long with Allie. Not in any unfair or possessive manner, and she was an expert at being appropriate in all situations, but I’d have to live with some jovial and harmless flirting if I wanted to be with her, and I really did.

I believe that planted the seed for me. On one of our early dates, like very casual dates, she and I had lost track of each other in a crowded bar. I later found her alone at a table with a very attractive tall man, who was certain he was going to take her home. After she’d noticed me, she happily found my hand in hers and we walked gleefully back to her place kind of joking about what had just happened, with no hard feelings either way.

That thought couldn’t get out of my mind. What if she had gone home with him? Would I have stopped talking to her altogether? I knew the answer. Not a chance. So what did this mean? Does she know she has this power over me? Do I have this same power over her? Probably not... This grew into the hottest thing I could think of. I could continue to date her, but if a more attractive, more competent lover blew her mind for an evening, I would still gladly welcome her back into bed in the morning. I began to crave that concept and I was ashamed of it. I still am to some degree.

Back to 2018. We’re in a cool basement, laying on our sides. I’m behind her and inside her, a kind of move when other people are in the house and you’re far enough away to get away with it, but still need to be quiet. I was ready to tell her. “I have a thought,” I said bashfully. “It’s very filthy, and I don’t necessarily want to do it, but... well...” She smiled mischievously, “What is it?”

“... oh. That’s so mean! I could never do that to you! Ha I mean it’s not a terrible fantasy, but never in real life”

In Real Life:

We both began googling ‘Cuckold.’ We learned that it was a very common kink in couples of all ages. We learned all the terms. “Bull, cuck, hotwife, cleanup” These were just filthy internet stories. Not real-life. We got off on them in so many different fashions.

It became clear that what she was getting off on and what I was getting off on were two slightly different parts of the fantasy.

She loved the attention. Her ability to have an exciting new tryst, while going home to a comforting, loving partner felt freeing and safe to her. So much of the work of casual dating is protecting yourself from the awkward encounters and disappointing second dates with people you’re not very

interested in. That’s where I was useful to her. I provided alternative entertainment if a date stood her up. Late night pep-talks if she had anxiety about sending a text. Giving up my concert ticket if a guy she was interested in asked her what she was up to that evening.

We both loved the taboo of it. She found it exciting to get back into bed with her boyfriend and tell him all about her evening in another guy’s bed.

I’m not sure what I loved most. But one keystone was the comparison. Did he make her cum? Was it easier for him to do so? Was his body better than mine? What about his dick? Does she want to see him again? Does she want to see him again tonight? Can we have sex right now? Would she rather have sex with him than with me?

I began to crave this concept sexually like I’d never known anything else. It dominated our sex life. I begged for it. Almost daily. I began buying her sexy underwear and fun things she might wear on a date. I imagined her walking around some guy’s living room in just the little cheeky underwear that he’d recently taken off.

By this point, this was all we talked about when we had sex. It got us both off. The frequency of her actually seeing these other guys was pretty low, and it was mostly an old college hookup she’d known in the past. Occasionally a prospect would come and go with a flirty date or maybe even a make out sesh at a concert. We continued in this mostly mental concept of it, even though it definitely had been tested, for the majority of the next 3 years.

One challenge we faced, mostly on her end, was how to meet men that were interested or trustworthy enough to have a physical and somewhat romantic relationship with her when she was already in a committed, publicly monogamous relationship. We weren’t swingers. We didn’t identify with the forums. We didn’t want our friends to know about this part of our lives and we certainly didn’t want professional contacts to hear through the grapevine somehow. We’d considered apps, but that was too mechanical. She craved authenticity in her encounters. She didn’t have to love the dude, but there had to be some form of real chemistry that the apps or communities seemed to lack for us. Props to those communities though, if it weren’t for the literature, we’d have gone invalidated in our desires. Without those stories, who knows how long this might have continued?

Another keystone that became an apparent common ground interest for us was denial. She was certainly capable of switching gears from the side- piece fling she’d know from college to making love with me in a short time frame. But as we became more used to the concept of her being with someone else, my excitement to be inside her immediately afterward was at an all-time high. Her immediate interest in me was not always matching my starvation-like desire. Then I learned about chastity. Just like the initial concept of cuckolding, she had to be convinced that it was safe and ethical. This was a cage device that covers one’s balls and dick. It restricts full erections and, more importantly, completely barricades anyone from touching the penis that it contains in any pleasurable manner. While it allows normal bathroom functions, including cleaning, it completely blocks all fun things you can do with your dick. The cage is held in place with a tiny lock. The key to this lock is then given to the “Keyholder” who has the final say when you can come out to either, A) have sex again, or B) masturbate to the torment you’d just endured and feel like a normal human again.

She never really loved the cage. It didn’t fuel her thinking and it was a relatively minor part of her whole experience in the grand story. It did serve a utilitarian function for her though. “I like that I can not feel guilty about not wanting to fuck you for a while if you’re wearing it”, she commented after I’d spent our first overnight trial in it, unscathed and balls bluer than the pacific. It didn’t necessarily add pleasure for her, but it gamified and occupied my time when her sexual interest in me was less than I really needed. Kind of like a time out or a chew toy when you want your dog to behave when guests are over.

Moving, Breakup, Rebound Bull

Around 6 years into our relationship, after moving back to our hometown and settling into a new home. We broke up. I won’t spend much time here because this is about cuckolding, not our whole relationship. What I will say is that as tumultuous and painful as it was, we both maintained award- winning levels of respect and love for one another. As with any long breakup, there was a grey area. I still lived in her house. We still went out publicly. We

still had sex. During this sex, I still begged her to cuckold me. I wanted to experience a new level of public embarrassment from a safe, rather sad, perspective. Nobody had to know we still fetishized our daily life. And now she was free to publicly date and talk about other guys. Allie and I trust each other. Not just that one wouldn’t do something hurtful. That might happen still. But we trust each other’s intentions. If something happens that does hurt someone, we both know that at its core, it wasn’t malicious. I think this is a strength that added to our ability to enjoy this kink from a relatively healthy platform. I’m not a psychologist. I don’t truly know what fuels this in me. I honestly am only kind of interested in that. Mostly I just think it’s incredibly hot.

Along came a complete game changer. His name was James. James was not an intimidatingly attractive guy. Fine looking, but nobody was snickering about his looks or personality when he entered a room. Unassuming is a good word for it. James, like many dudes in our circle, had eyes for Allie. She was just getting over a different f-buddy who was kind of a dud, when James started pursuing her more heavily.

“Idk, give it a shot,” I suggested. “What’s to lose? Maybe it’s boring, but a little attention is fun, right? I’m still here.”

She agreed. She went on a weekend trip with him, ended up hooking up, but because of the confines of his small trailer and people nearby, they didn’t really do any “fucking.”

She came home slightly amused, but still a little unimpressed. I understood and, while I’d hoped it was still going to turn into a fun game, I knew that it was probably going to fizzle out. That’s okay.

A few weeks go by, she sees him again, much with my encouragement, and things changed intensely.

James was involved in a common crowd of other local outdoors enthusiasts so the ran into each other pretty often. He was much better at mountain biking than myself, an attribute she found most attractive about him. He also had a unique penis. It had an upward curve, and, when manipulated skillfully, it hit her g spot continuously. Now I was really interested. “So that’s why this guy is so confident,” we joked.

Be Careful What You Wish For

By this point, I had moved out and taken a job in a nearby state about 2 hours away. I still visited her almost ever weekend where we’d have dinner, sometimes sex, and watch movies together.

All of that changed once James entered the picture. She was still happy to share the details with me. She’d send a selfie with her perfect tits out, laying in his bedroom. I’d ask on occasion, “Have you fucked today?” And she’d respond proudly, “Yes, several times. Still with him. Ttyl :)”
Over time her response to these texts slowed. She was preoccupied. She

didn’t have time to cater to my emotional needs, she had a relationship with R to maintain.

I managed to keep some sexual attention from her by buying her underwear and stockings, things I’d always enjoyed picking out for her, but even more-so now that I knew the chances of him enjoying them while I might be lucky just for a photo of them was more than likely.

Our dirty talk became intensely harsh. I requested brutal honesty from her, and boy did I receive it.

Up until this point, I had maintained a level of confidence that while all the others were new and exciting, I was at least physically and emotionally a better lover with her. That was no longer true. To reiterate, I firmly asked for harshness and honesty. I wanted to know how she compared us. How my sexuality stacked up against his. It’s not that I coached her response, but she knew how to push my buttons. She always had, but something was different here. It felt true.

“You just can’t do what he does.” She’d tell me. “He has an amazing dick. It’s a magic penis.” I’d pry.

“Well am I still sexier than him?”
“Not at the moment, but that will probably change.”

“Do you still want to fuck me sometimes?”

“Probably someday, but not right now.”

“Am I attractive to you?”

“I mean the cuck stuff still turns me on, but you sexually are not attractive to me.”

She wasn’t pretending for the kink this time. I’d been outdone.

With this new thrilling lover, who socially hadn’t interested her in any real way, she felt comfortable. She began casually dating him publicly, but very casually. Along with this comfort she felt, at some point, she told him that her ex was a cuckold. He laughed at first, but asked questions. “Why would he like that? How did you convince him to be into that? That’s hilarious. I could never, but truly, good for him!”

Holiday Cuck

Around Thanksgiving, I had to visit her house to get some of my belongings that still lived in her garage. With the winter conditions, long drive back to my house, and family house unavailable, she allowed me to stay in the basement, two floors away from her bedroom.

She and James were returning from a weekend road trip that evening, and she planned on staying at his house to avoid awkwardness. For some reason, last minute, their plans changed and all of us would stay under the same roof.

Before he arrived, I had an emotionally charged moment. I was overwhelmed with the whole concept. Feeling like a guest in our dream home. Looking around at all of the improvements I’d made, on the floor with our dog, I teared up. Allie was kind and comforting, making light of the moment. “I understand,” she said. “Are you sure you’re ready for this? Once he’s here, I can’t take care of both of you, and I’m going to make sure he’s comfortable.”

“Are you going to have sex tonight?” I asked “Honestly probably.” She said firmly.
“I don’t want you to hold back.” I said “Okay. Well be nice to yourself. But I won’t for tonight, okay? I think you should put the cage on right now and then go downstairs.” I was startled. “Well... I’m leaving early, I probably won’t be able to see you or get the key back until next time I’m here, which is in like a month.”

“Won’t you have more enjoyment if you’re wearing it tonight?” She argued.

She was absolutely correct. Not only because it was hot, but because I knew I wouldn’t be able to control myself. At the first moment I was alone I was going to use my hand to the thought of my predicament. I would then cum all over myself. I would then regret everything and feel trapped in this basement before anything had even begun. I stepped away into the bathroom and returned quietly to her home office doorway. I stood near her desk where she was typing some last minute work and placed the set of keys gently on her desk. She smirked. “Haha freak. Okay. Go downstairs now. He’s almost here.” I felt a twitch on my hardware and reluctantly obeyed.

Around 8pm I heard doors, footsteps, and laughter from upstairs. He’d arrived. 9pm came and went, the movie they were watching together went silent, and they went to bed without incident. Around 10 minutes later, in a mostly silent house, I heard it. I recognized the sound instantly. It was slow, sensual, heavy breathing. The source was her slowly warming up to what I’d imagined was some foreplay, but who knows? Maybe he’s already inside her. I crept to the top of the pitch black stairway, nervously pondering whether I should continue into the kitchen where I would then be under an open balcony. Beyond that balcony is her always open bedroom doors, maybe 16 feet away from the kitchen floor. My silent ponder was interrupted by a smooth, yet echoing vocalization. She moaned again. “Fuck.” She said. “Baby you make me so fucking happy” she said to him. There appeared to be no effort to quiet herself. “FUCK. Grab my ass.” She commanded. The intensity grew. The headboard began tapping the wall. The budget glass cabinet doors rattled. And then something completely shocking to me happened. That level of intensity remained for several minutes. 2,3,4 minutes went by with steady rhythmic sounds of motion and bed squeaking, all overshadowed by her cries and moans of pleasure. I though to myself, “Surely he’s got to be getting tired by now, right?”

At this point I was sitting, naked and vulnerable at the top of the stairs, regretting ever even mentioning the concept of chastity to her. I didn’t know what to do with myself. Every atom in my body wanted two things. For them to come to some hot conclusion so that I could sleep, and for myself to hopefully just will an orgasm out of this little silver thimble on my package so that I could sleep. It’s a strange place to be. This moment was the culmination of nearly everything I’d ever wanted to experience as a cuckold, and because of the cage, all I could do was dwell in it. It wasn’t a moment. It was a 3.5 hour period of time where they’d fuck, finish, and then 30-40 minutes later fuck for another 20 minutes.
In the middle of flesh slapping, filthy whispering, house-rattling lovemaking, my only available thought was imagining what positions they might be doing right now.
I lost count of what I presumed were her orgasms around 7 or so. I did the only thing I could think of doing. I took out my phone, and recorded a dark selfie video. Now, this video will never see the light of day, though it’s entirely audio, but I preserved it for myself to eventually re-live the moment once I’d been freed from my tiny cock-prison.

Eventually their incredible session came to a quiet, probably exhausted halt. Around 3am I finally fell asleep.
I was woken up in the morning by hearing bare-feet walking along the cool, vinyl-covered concrete floor of the basement I was sleeping in, to a gentle knock, and K standing in a tiny grey nighty in the doorway. I knew nothing was underneath. The soft cotton slip stopped above her tan, athletic thighs which led down her smooth legs to her feminine, hot pink toes as she kindly asked me how I was doing. “How was your night?” She asked in a provocative, yet sweet tone. My eyes widened.

“I could fucking hear everything,” I said. “I would imagine,” she responded in an obvious, unimpressed-by-my-observation-tone. She laughed almost in disbelief. Not at me, but with me. As if we’d just left a concert and were both astounded by the musician. Her concern shifted to excitement. Not to brag, but knowing that I had never experienced sex like that.

“He fucked me for like 30 minutes straight at one point.” “That was insane,” I added. “It sounded like you had like 8 orgasms.” “Oh. Like maybe the first time. But in total?” Her eyes searched the walls and ceiling for an answer, “Several more. He did twice, maybe 3 I can’t remember.”

“10?” I directed back to her orgasms.

“At least. Honestly, maybe more. He has an incredible dick.” “Have I ever made you cum like that?”

She laughed genuinely, as though to make a point. Not to rub it in, necessarily, but the way you might laugh if someone asked if the Rocky Mountains were taller than their hometown hill in Missouri.

“Not even close. Like in number of orgasms, no way. In intensity, probably close to most of it but not the last one.”

“It was incredible,” she said. “I came probably the hardest I ever have on the last one.”

I looked longingly at her exposed thighs and feet on the floor. As she leaned against the doorway, the stretch cotton nighty was pulled upwards, just barely exposing the bottom part of her ass cheek. It occurred to me then that he’d just spent the whole night with her naked body. Gripping, sucking, fucking mercilessly, every bit that I was so desperate to kiss. So why did she feel the need to cover up? Oh... She wasn’t covering up for him. She was wearing it for me.

“Can I taste you?” I asked.

“Nope,” she responded sharply as she walked away. “You should come hot tub and drink coffee. His idea”

“WTF?” I whispered in a yelling manner. “Does he know I’m a cuckold?”

“Ohh for sure. And he knows you’re wearing the little cage too. Come have coffee,” She said as she made her way back upstairs, now satisfied that I was okay.

I want to include some facts about our current status at this point. I’ve since talked with Allie about this day, and the next 2 months or so after this day. We have very different experiences from this time. For me, between this encounter and the next, I wore the cage for almost two months straight. James had accepted the keys from my hand, (we’ll get to that sometime) and one hundred percent of my sexual mind was filled with thoughts of this encounter. This was the wildest sex I’d ever been present for, and it was happening between them 3-4 times weekly, probably more. In Allie’s words, “I think you were a bit pushy. The cage made you kind of crazy here. You wanted a lot from us and we really didn’t think of you.”

Why would they? Admittedly, I was really pushy. I was obsessed with the potential of my new reality. Reflecting, of course it wasn’t only my reality. It was much more theirs. “James and I both thought you were pretty annoying

at times, and in being so pushy, not a very good cuckold. Like if you were submissive to us, why did you make so many requests?” Nevertheless, I was absolutely obsessed. Maybe it was a coping mechanism for the still painful breakup. I think probably for her it was too. But I was desperate to be involved in any way possible.

I cautiously walked upstairs and into the kitchen. While modestly covering my new bellyfat with my towel, making my way out to the winter hot tub deck, she and I stood in the doorway, James still upstairs putting a bathing suit on. “This is so scary,” I thought out loud. “Yep. It’s fine,” She assured me, knowing herself that it was definitely going to be awkward at first. “I think he could be into it if he just hears from you that you’re not a threat. Like you really are a cuckold and not trying to win me back from him.”

“Totally,” I agreed. That was the most normal communication we’d had that weekend.

“I forgot to ask. Where did he cum?”

She smiled sweetly, “Inside me. He always cums inside me.” The thimble in my trunks reminded me of its presence.

Once in the hot tub, we all performed marvelously. It began with small talk. “This coffee’s good.”

“That tree looks rough.”
It’s not as windy today, that’s nice”
“There’s more snow than I expected! Almost time for skiing!”

“So D,” James announced. “I’ve gotta ask. How are you able to do this right now? I’m not one to trash anyone’s thing. I just can’t imagine how someone gets into that!”

Allie laughed with him, “It’s just like anything,” She responded for me, “It’s not that crazy if you think about it. Like polyamory kind of but with different types of layers.”

Allie got too hot and went inside, changing out of her bathing suit and leaving us behind to close the tub and follow when ready.

I went on to explain to him that I don’t know why I’m this way, but at this point, I genuinely wanted to “serve” them in whatever way was actually helpful, and if that meant fully fucking off, I’d do that too. He nodded understandingly, though it was mostly performative. “I’m not making any promises right now, but it’s definitely not out the question.”

After we spent the morning in and out of the hot tub. We watched the new snow roll in. Several rounds of coffee later, he and I had an understanding. We knew our positions, and it was official. I was a certified, party declared, cuck.

Allie remarked that she was tired and that it might be time for a late-morning nap. “We were up super late.” James added as flirty inside joke to Allie. She grinned and agreed. I wasn’t very tired, but I wanted to be agreeable. “I could go nap too.” I added, “Though I might stay up.” “If you really want to be helpful you could go shovel some snow and clean off the cars-don’t have to, just a thought.” Allie suggested in a “please go outside for a while” manner. James added before I could respond, “There’s a new shovel that’s way better by the small door.” He picked up his few belongings and followed her perfect, nightie-clad body up the stairs. “You can also nap too,” She called down, sweetly. “The snow can wait for after your nap.”

We all knew what that statement meant. I’d received my first cuck chore. The half golfball sized steel dome in my shorts twitched. By this point, my body had given up on getting hard. Now it just leaked a little pre-cum every time I was aroused, which nearly nonstop by this point.

As eagerly as I wanted to impress them with my obedience, I went to the red room to lay down. This was a guest bedroom not in the basement, but on the main floor. The only thing between her bed and mine was a ceiling. Despite all of the new mind-blowing advancements over the previous 12 hours, I managed to close my eyes and take a 30 minute nap.

I was awoken by a familiar sound. A whisper. A giggle. Silence. Then a deeply relaxed, slow sigh. The kind of sound that could have been a back rub on her sore shoulders, but I listened further. Another sigh. A very quiet moan. It was happening again. I wondered if they knew how close I was.

I silently got out of bed, tip-toeing across the creaky wooden floor into the kitchen. Pausing with every creak, just waiting to hear my name in a questioning “Are you there?” Tone. My name certainly did not come up. But the sighing intensified. I crept to the back corner of the dining room where I could see through the balcony balusters and into her room. Through the balusters the only thing I could make out was her white duvet. Then my eyes adjusted. I saw James, laying on his side and facing away from me with a shirt on, and her feminine hand curled behind him, pulling him into her in a gradual rocking motion. He was slowly taking her from behind. They were trying to be quiet I thought. She let out a louder moan. Then his motion intensified. I saw her clench and could hear the control leaving her voice. He firmly wrapped his hand around her neck and up to her mouth and held her in place while his thrusting never stopped. She came into his hand through her mouth. They rested, and she looked back toward the open door, and silently laughed with him. As she looked over toward me, I could tell that should could not see me. “I need to fucking ride you.” She declared. He removed his shirt and she crawled on top of him, revealing to me her feminine hips, pushed around his, with her abs and perfect tits on full display to him, and accidentally, to me.

I stood in disbelief. My soft hairy body and tiny silver thimble on full display to the whole dining room. My thoughts moved to the keys, which were just beside them on the night stand, her flush face paying no attention to them or me, but locked in on James, occasionally leaning forward to kiss him.

After her orgasm number 4 or so, she whispered something into his ear and they switched positions.
I thought I was for sure caught. I ducked down, and when I found the courage to come back up and look, her face was looking straight at me. She was on her hands and knees on the bed. He was kneeling powerfully behind her, hands in her hair, looking down at presumably is “magic dick” going in and out of her. I stared into her face. Her eyes were closed, mouth halfway open, bangs partly sticking to the sweat on her forehead. “Fuck.” She said. “Cum in me baby. I want you to fucking cum in me.” She whispered audibly, her whispers turning more vocal, the intensity in her voice growing. “Right there. Give me your cum. I want to feel it fill me.” His thrusting intensified. Her head bobbed up and down with the impacts. She got louder. “Give me your fucking cum. Oooooh” He grabbed her breasts terrifyingly hard. She whimpered sharply. “That’s way too hard,” I thought myself. “That probably killed the moment for her.” “She let out a gasp as his thrusting and breast grabbing grew to a violent, honestly concerning tempo. She let out a large groan and began shuddering as his hand covered her mouth. “Did I just see them cum together?” I thought to myself incredulously. Nope. Just her.

They stood up and walked over to a doorway facing 90 degrees from me, her hands on the frame while on her perfect pink tippy-toes, him thrusting enthusiastically behind her. I head her whispering to him, presumably the same content as before, and I saw his head tilt back. Their motions came to a rest. She settled back down off of her toes as he caressed her neck. Her’s and his right hand went between her legs to catch what I imagine was his cum running out of her. She walked into the bathroom and I heard the water run as I saw him wipe his own hand on his chest, joining her in the shower. GOD DAMN this fucking thimble on my dick.

This concluded the hottest, most agonizing hour I think I’ve maybe ever endured and we all took a well deserved, though very seperate rest. After what seemed like enough of a cool-down period, I slowly began making gentle noises for the purpose of alerting them to my presence in the kitchen. I could hear them talking quietly. I started to get winter clothes on, beginning the process of going outside to shovel snow when I overheard a conversation that I was not supposed to hear. She was talking about renting out her basement, and joked that I’d offered to rent it. He laughed and it seemed he did not want me there full time. She made a point that they can’t have loud sex if they had a regular room mate, and I’d probably do his laundry for him. They both laughed together at the concept and I felt the steel marble of a cock in my pants grow in pressure, then let out an extremely comfortable weep. Here I am in my beloved ex girlfriend’s house, about to go shovel snow for her and the new guy, listening to them have passionate sex while she tells me he’s the best she’s ever had, and they’re in bed making fun of me. I was in cuckold heaven.

I coughed to make my presence known, feeling guilty for eavesdropping. I figured if they’d known I could hear they wouldn’t have been laughing at me.

Just then, my phone went off. It was her texting me. “Are you hungry?” She asked.

“Could eat.”
“There’s sandwich stuff... I could eat too”

They’d just made love up and down the walls of this house. I was in the act of cleaning their cars off, and while they’re making fun of me, she was asking me to make them a sandwich. Okay NOW I was in cuckold heaven.