Fifteen minutes later Jean pulled into the driveway, hit the button, and opened the garage door. She considered the dark house a good sign. She was as eager to see her cuck as he was to see her. She pictured him up in her bedroom, laying on her bed, flat on his back, a towel underneath him. She had always been a creamer and they had incorporated a towel in their lovemaking decades ago.

If the kids were up it might be 5 minutes or an hour before she headed upstairs. Keeping him waiting was fun. It heightened his arousal, but tonight she was ready for immediate gratification. She pulled into the garage, exited the car, and entered the house. She entered the family room saw it was empty and breathed a sigh of relief.

She made her way upstairs. His bedroom door was open and hers closed. She quietly opened it, entered and closed it behind her. The darkness enveloped them.

She softly called out, "C, are you awake?"

A voice equally soft but definitely a man's answered, "Yes."

She smiled wishing he could see the look on her face, tenderness and concern for her cuckold, "Turn on the light C. I want you to see."

He reached up and clicked on the lamp.

She approached the bed getting wetter with each step. What was about to happen was a ritual they had played out ever since he became her cuckold. It hadn't changed in all the years she had been cucking him. She liked ritual, but this ritual had special significance. Without she asking or he having to say it, he affirmed their unwritten contract.

She stood by the bed, stared down at him as he adoringly looked up. She felt so strong and saw him as delicately fragile. She handled him the way she always did, firm but fair.

He extended his right arm and his hand caressed her butt.

She started to undo her blouse. Her tone was firm, not harsh, "Did you figure out why I'm late?"

He mumbled, "Yes."

She took her blouse off and removed her bra exposing her tits. She wished they were covered with bite marks or hickeys. Her nipples were swollen; she took them in her fingers and rolled them. It felt delicious she thought.

"Then tell me."

"You were with another man."

"That's right. Another man. A new man. And what did we do?"

"You made love."

"That's right cuck. We made love. My new man fucked me. Not just once, but twice. He put his big cock in me and we fucked. Tell me again cuck, why do I need a man with a big cock?"

"Because mine is small."

"That's right, small. It's so small I have to look elsewhere for pleasure. Do I deserve pleasure cuck?"

"Yes. Are you sorry you have a small penis cuck?"

"I am."

Jean began to remove her pants. She peeled them off and then did the same with her underwear peeling it down. She kicked them off her feet. He would pick them up in the morning.

"What else are you sorry about cuck?"

He was staring at her bush, salivating. He looked up, "That I cum so quick."

"That's right cuck. You cum very quickly. You have alot to be sorry for, but you're going to make it up to me aren't you?"

He croaked out, "Yes. I'm going to make it up to you."

She knew she sounded like a total bitch. There was venom in her voice, "How are you going to make it up cuck?"

His eyes glazed over making him look intoxicated. He was in the zone, the deeply submissive zone, "I'm going to clean you with my mouth mistress."

"That's right, cuck. You are going to clean me and bring me pleasure with your mouth. What am I going to do in return?"

She was tempted to make him beg, imagining his little penis hidden by the covers throbbing, the agony he felt pure torture.

"Nothing mistress."

"That's right. You are going to give me pleasure and I am going to revel in it. And when I'm done I'm going to go to put on my nightgown and go to sleep. And you're going to snuggle against me feeling my bottom against your excuse for a penis and listen as I tell you about my date as I drift off to sleep."

His hand on her ass felt nice. She didn't resist as he pulled her closer to the bed. She swung her right leg over the bed as he arched his head up, lips pursed, to kiss her sex.

She groaned at the initial contact. She lowered herself onto him, her sex splayed open wide, as his tongue entered her. She loved the feel of his tongue on her sex. "That feels so good cuck. Make your mistress happy. Clean me out."

She bore down expressing the last bit of his seed. Her cuck eagerly sucked it down. His hands caressed her buttocks as he slowly devoured her. She thought to herself how good her cuck made her feel, how she loved what he did with his mouth. What they did was nasty, but felt so good. It was wrong but she loved it. So different from what she did with her lovers. Their lovemaking was purer, Biblical, the joining of a man and a woman.

She couldn't remember the last they had intercourse, but it was no surprise as it was so unmemorable. She did remember it had been a long since he last climaxed. She remembered it as being very erotic. She caressed his penis with her toes. After he climaxed she made him lick her toes clean of his cum and then eat her again.

She could tell by the way he was eating her he was close to climaxing. She thought about stopping, letting him cool down, then having him resume eating her. She thought, "That would be cruel, but fun. But it wouldn't be part of the ritual. The first time needs to stay the same. Next time I can have my fun and I know there will be a next time."

She could hold off her own orgasm for as long as she wanted. It was funny how she had so much control and he had none. No wonder she dominated their marriage; she was strong and he was weak. There was nothing equal about their relationship. In spite of it or perhaps because it lacked equality other couples envied their marriage, the way he doted on her, not knowing the price he paid or the reasons for his slavish devotion.

She took her hands, cradled the back of his head, and ground her crotch into his face, then manuevered her vagina to be in line with his tongue and held him as they fucked, she riding his extended tongue. She thought, "For having such a useless penis, he certainly has a long tongue."

Her juices were flowing down his face and onto the pillow. He was grunting as he licked, another sign his own orgasm was approaching. She decided to let him climax and to quit fighting the onset of hers. The two of them groaned in unison as they climaxed, he into his pajama bottoms and she at the end of his tongue.

Her legs felt heavy and weak. She told him to scoot over to the center of the bed. She brought her other leg onto the bed and continued kneeling. His head remained between her legs inches from her crotch. She rested her ass on his chest. "I hope I'm not crushing you, cuck."

"You're not," he assured her.

"That was so good. Did you?"

He sounded ashamed, "Yes."

She soothed him, "That's okay. I wanted you too. You earned your climax being so good the last few weeks, and especially tonight. I'm glad you didn't question me when I canceled our plans. You just went with the flow. That was much better than last time. Remember what happened last time."

"I do," he quietly replied remembering how furious she had been, how she gave him the cold shoulder the next day, pacing the house like some caged animal, waiting for the kids to leave, how the instant they left, she unleashed a verbal barrage telling him how he embarrassed her, asking him if he forgot who was in charge, demanding he go upstairs and wait for his punishment. He had hustled upstairs, stripped, and bent over the side of the bed, exposing his bottom to her. She appeared a few minutes later, opening the door with a flourish scaring him, slamming it hard enough to crack the frame, and using one of the ping pong paddles from the table in the garage lit his bottom up. She didn't stop even after he started crying and continued even as he begged her to. What stopped her was exhaustion.

She pulled her panties off, told him to lay on the floor, and with his ass beat red and throbbing rode his face in lightning time to an orgasm. His penis stayed shriveled. After she flooded his face she got up, went to the bathroom, urinated, came back, and told him to get on the bed face down so she could see her handiwork.

The bruising scared her. She felt bad for going overboard but reminded him as she applied ice and lotion he had no one to blame but himself. She reminded him she loved him, but it was his fault he needed disciplining. That had been years ago and he hadn't repeated that mistake again. He never questioned her decisions in public and rarely in private. She was the boss.

She thought, resting her bottom on his chest, her sex wet, puffy, pink, the hair matted, his eyes glued to her vagina's entrance, "they had come a long way." She felt very open, knew he was picturing a cock going in and out of that all that tender flesh, a soft, liquidy cave he would never dip his spelunker in again. She had let him get close the last few years, only to change her mind at the last minute, guiding his head to her clitoris, her hand wrapped around his shaft, using his penis to rub herself to orgasm, continuing to rub until she orgasmed again or he came, then making him lick her clean and to another orgasm.

Before, they hadn't been able to be as open. Neither was comfortable discussing what happened. As he got emotionally better able to handle her betrayal he found he needed to know details for the last piece of the puzzle to be complete, humiliation. She shared only the sparsest of the details at first and still held back details she wanted only her lover and she to know, but she needed her cuck as a sounding board for her relationships rarely had only a physical component, but an emotional one.

For being her husband he provided remarkably sage advice on how she should handle a lover. He was a cuck, but he thought like a man and he provided her insight into how a man thinks.

She looked down at him, feeling stronger than she had in a long time. Her affairs made her feel in control. "Cuck," she asked, "do you want to hear about my evening?"

That crack in his voice when he answered delighted her, "Yes, but only if you want to tell me."

She liked his answer, always remembering to defer to her. She scooted down his chest, scooped his head up as she lowered her mouth to his and kissed him. His face smelled of her juices. She licked his cheek commenting, "I taste good. I do want to tell you, but only if you promise to stay awake. Otherwise it can wait until tomorrow."

She knew fatigue set in after he climaxed and it was late, but his answer would be a sign he remained committed to the journey.

"Yes, I'll stay awake."

She got off of him, "Good. I'll be back in a minute. You did hang my nightgown on the bathroom door."

"I did," her cuckold answered.

She returned a few minutes later, after having brushed her teeth, and urinated one last time for the evening. She didn't tell him to get up as she wanted him to wear their scent the entire night and to feel the cold wet spot in his pajama bottoms as a reminder of his status.

She got in bed, turned towards him, and with her eyes locked onto his, her mouth an inch from his, began. Her hands under the covers she unbuttoned his pajama fly and extracted his penis. It was soft, but if past performance is an indication of future reliability she knew it wouldn't be soft for very long.

She looked into his eyes, thinking how he was aging well, appreciating his devotion to her. She loved her cuck and was glad they were growing old together. She softly asked, "C, do you know what serendipity is?"