Beyond Frolic Sex 3.7/5 (11)

Bear with me, I’ll try to pick my way through this for you. It’s what I have learned over the course of two years. My name is Meredith and I’m a doctor and my husband is called Neil and he is an academic. Doctors in my experience are meant to be entirely rational, clinical, relatively unsexy. We’re not meant to be women, to have our own drives, needs and desires. I suppose academics are little better.

They’re meant to analyse the life out of everything, aren’t they! Well, two years ago, in 2017 Neil and I decided that we wanted to explore the cuckold scene. I have a decent figure (when I’m not swathed in a white coat) and Neil admitted that it would be kind of sexy knowing that another man was fucking me. I asked him if he always had to watch us, and he said no.

Whilst he was sure that it would be a cock stiffening thrill to witness that he conceded that I would perhaps need private sex too. We were pretty serious about this, discussing just why we were prepared to give it a go. I mean, there could be health risks, emotional and relationship risks. But we concluded (I suppose that others do too) that a key benefit of cucking was that it drove raw emotion back into our lives.

I mean, we bumbled along perhaps like you? We had sex sometimes. If we did it was often missionary position sex. It had been an age since Neil had gone down on me, a similar age since I last enjoyed making him jealous. Neil said that he needed to live on the edge for a while and hoped that I did too. The sex, me and this other man, would be relational. I mean that it wasn’t just mechanical sex. I would go out with him. I would know him as a person. Neil said that he and I should spend weekend away.

We didn’t just jump into this, I flinging myself at the first attractive guy who caught my fancy. But it was nice to dress sexily and to know from the outset that it was to appeal to other men, not Neil.

He and I rehearsed things, about what it would seem like, what we would say when the attraction happened. I said to Neil, don’t smile, that I would tell him to ‘fuck off’ if he cramped my style. We imagined that might seem pretty haughty, pretty bitchy. I remember meeting Edward in a folk club. Neil and I went there for a gig. It wasn’t a pick up effort party if you get what I mean.

Still, I was wearing leather jeans and a Slavic top, so I perhaps looked a bit Maid Marion in forest attire. Edward had shaggy hair and he wore a well trimmed beard. I don’t like the unkempt ones. Edward was obviously interested in me! It felt very nice indeed! Neil read things quite well that night and he made himself scarce, even managing to stay out of that room for much of the night.

Edward and I drank a few beers and he asked if my husband who he had seen depart was the jealous type. I remember laughing. It seemed to convince Edward. I said, ‘he doesn’t count…I wear the pants’ and pointed at my jeans which made him smile. I left the folk club with Edward and we went back to his place which crazily was only two miles from where we lived. He asked whether I’d like coffee and coffee became what it was always meant to be, sex.

It was delicious dropping my jeans for another man. Edward had a decent physique and his erection was proud and very hard. Of course the medic in me made me stare at it. I hoped that there weren’t any sores, or other evidence of a nasty disease. I decided that I would fuck bareback if that was what Edward required. I know, its not sensible or safe, but I wanted this to work and to be horny.

Edward though produced the sheath and I didn’t have to face the dilemma. We fucked. I enjoyed fucking with him. I didn’t feel guilty. I loved the way that he kissed my throat when he ejaculated inside me. I could feel my cunt spasming on his cock. I felt a little delirious and I stayed the night. I thought well…Neil could wait, wonder, hurt worrying about how things turned out.

Over the next few months we got into the trust bond and the sheaths were left on a shelf. I went out with Edward, met his friends, kept quiet about my job, smoked some weed on occasion and it felt really liberating. Neil was very well behaved. When I said that I didn’t want him fucking me too he accepted that. I wanked him over the sink, tugging his cock in short tugs until his semen belched into the porcelain bowl.

I felt very free, it was amazing. Neil wasn’t told much about Edward, but he was allowed to lick my sex if he was accommodating and made it easy for me to go out with Edward, or to have Edward back to the house, I realised that Neil was suited to being cucked. He had a doormat like demeanour, not exactly Uriah Heap, but pretty weak looking. I felt it was right then for the two men to meet. It seemed the right time for them to relate to one another and for me too explore what being a bitch was all about.

That was a mistake. It was simply a dismal mistake! Edward came home, Neil fixed a simple supper, my husband was deferential, for sure, polite, and very quiet. Whilst Neil cooked the pasta I said that Edward and I would have some time. That was OK. We went to the bedroom, fucked, listening to Neil cook and hum tunelessly to some song on the radio. Edward was obviously enjoying me, pinning my arms to the bed and taking me, but it wasn’t exactly territorial.

His face was joyous rather than hard-can you understand that? It was hipster like, as if we simply lived in a commune. Afterwards, over supper, I kissed Edward a lot in front of Neil. His hand was beneath my folksy dress, feeling the wet patches from our coupling. But, and its oh so big a but, Edward was nice to Neil. He asked my husband about work, recounted his own days at Uni and remarked on craft beers.

Fuck, they both liked craft beers. It was terrible. The guys started to get on like best friends, Neil saying hey it was fine to live this way, Edward saying he was an incredible guy sharing and all. It was, oh shit, it was frolicsome sex. That was what it was like! It didn’t feel wicked, it didn’t feel edgy, I didn’t feel like a bitch and slowly, I hated it.

I let Edward go, saying goodbye at a concert in one of the big city halls. I had had enough. Edward was disappointed. He liked fucking me and Neil was amazing. I thought fuck you, this is not San Francisco and I won’t wear a flower run my hair. For the next weeks I was really short with Neil really nasty. I snapped at him, found fault as often as I could.

He was, I know, bewildered. He came to my cunt, ate me out after Edward had taken me, he had been meek and compliant, so he wondered what he had done wrong. ‘Nothing- you did nothing wrong’ I shouted at him. He winced, he winced like a dog about to be birched.

After several months of cucking Neil I had to face some terrible truths. Looking in the mirror I had to see me. I had to see nasty Meredith. The truth of it was I needed a different kind of lover. I didn’t need a joyous, peace man , shaggy bastard with a cock, I needed a man who would teach me to be a bitch.

1 Comment

  • John

    Reply Reply February 9, 2019

    Incredible hot so really hot. It made me want more to see what happens to Neil . Oh this was so masterfully written thank you.

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