This story is the property of the writer Kalimaxos.

Reproduction without the expressed approval of the writer and owner of the story is prohibited.

Be advised, this is a story about a cuckold couple told from the point of view of their bull.

As some of you know of my stories, it is not conventional to the genre. I push boundaries and question everything and everyone. All my characters are flawed and have to deal with their own failings. Some rise above their failings, while others do not.

Like real life. It's often a shitshow.

And now:

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Their Temptation 03

The Office

Things have been going well between myself and the Knox couple considering they were new to the lifestyle. Each of them facing it in their own personal way.

Jim had experienced the feelings of shock, inadequacy, anxiety, jealousy and extreme arousal at the sight of his wife having sex with another man. That man being me. But I had tried to minimize the shock by talking to him about it, before and after each of the early events. Mainly to gauge his reaction and calm him down.

The hardest part for him was the reaction of his wife to me during sex. She was vocal, insatiable, and very responsive. And as they had discussed before they arranged for me to be their bull, she would look at Jim as I fucked her with cold eyes as she moaned and urged me to fuck her.

I knew Jim got off on that because he admitted to it. But it was also painful and shocking. He told me that with each time, he was becoming more used to it and the shock was less. But not the arousal or the rollercoaster of emotions cuckolds go through. He struggled with that each time and yet craved it in between. But what I was worried about was anger.

Early cuckolds either adjust and accept it or go into an eventual fit of rage. Rage at both their wife allowing it and enjoying it. Some forget that they instigated it and focus on their wife's infidelity. Those type of men are in total denial.

But most are angry at themselves. Angry for telling their wife their desire to see her with another man. And then by crossing the line by making that fantasy come true. By giving his wife to another man to fuck. No normal man did that. No man was supposed to do that. It was that realization that pushed them over the edge.

Angered cuckolds either lashed out at the wife, the bull, both or ran off in shame. I watched for signs that Jim would take any of those options, but he did not. In a way, I was disappointed he did not lash out. That would have been the act of a man. A stupid man with regrets, but a man trying to correct an irreversible mistake.

Tragically for Jim, he accepted his role as a cuckold. The uncomfortable emotions to him were just part of his new life. A life of rollercoaster emotions and subservience he enjoyed. He was one of those cuckolds that adjusted to the lifestyle and could do it for years. All he needed was a hotwife who appreciated his stability, devotion, and love for her.

Was Sandra that woman? I was not sure.

When consumed by the sexual debauchery with me, she did not think of the world, her family, her husband, or children. In those moments it was as if she was in a trance. A wild pleasure ride that she wanted to prolong as long as possible.

But in between events, she wavered. After each session, she withdrew into a haze of self-pity and shame. Getting her to snap out of it was hard for Jim. She would refuse eye contact with him and any conversation about what she had done. Pushing her to conversation, led to crying fits in the bathroom and a spoiled next evening.

But next time, I visited she got better. After a recovery period the next day, she was willing to go through a second session if her husband was not there. Jim hated that, but he accepted it as the price of the times he did get to watch. And like most cuckolds, he went through a similar yet agonizing rollercoaster of emotions as he waited for her to return.

It was best Jim was not there to see her behavior during the private sessions. Because that was when Sandra lost all inhibitions and gave herself in a way that would have shocked her husband.

***

Sandra had called me at work the day I was to fly out to Atlanta. She had a knack for calling me just as I was to leave for home. It never failed that I had a hardon by the end of the call and could not just walk out. The bitch!

But that day, she had asked if I would have time for her at the office the next day after my morning meetings. Regretfully, my first day in Atlanta was always full and I could not see her until late in the day.

"Any particular reason why we need to meet at my office?" I asked curiously. "I thought you and Jim were coming over to the hotel tomorrow night."

"Dave," she said after a small pause. "I need some alone time with you. Would you mind?"

Why not? I thought. An appetizer to the evening's "meal." I was young and could recharge.

"OK, be there around five," I replied. "Come in to see Jim but go straight to the ladies' room outside the engineering office. Then come to my office at five-oh-five. Got that?"

"Yes sir," she replied. "Any other instructions?"

She was on submissive, willing to please mode without my asking it. I was not the overly dominant type with women normally. But Sandra brought that out in me by her willingness to be my sub when we met alone.

"Bring that short raincoat dress you have and wear nothing under it. And be clean shaved."

"Yes sir," she replied. "Sir..."

"What is it?"

"Will you make me do things?"

"What do you think?"

"I know I shouldn't be what I have become, but I can't stop wanting to be what you make me do."

I heard her make a sound between a sob and a whimper as she hung up quickly.

Sandra was fighting an inner battle. One between her outward sensibilities and inward needs of sexual abandon. The latter had come out as she and I met more often and had conversations. Some that were not always verbal.

For a while, I wondered if it was an act. A self-generated illusion of force on her by her lover. To be "the" good girl, influenced by a lover's dominance to nastiness. But after a while, I came to understand that it was not play-acting. That for her it was real.

Not having much experience in relationships as she should have before marriage. Sandra was still discovering her inner self. Her wants and needs as well as her boundaries. But those needs also required she maintain her vanilla outward image. Some women managed to compartmentalize the two and live happy lives. Would she?

After all, she had her husband's permission and approval to have a lover. As she had defined it to me, it was "like hitting the wife lottery." And yet. When her and Jim's fantasy became reality, she found herself torn and conflicted.

By the time I realized how deep this chasm was, it was too late. The way she acted during that year, both Jim and I thought she had it under control. That she was becoming a well-adjusted hotwife.

That was how I judged her to be when I heard a knock on my office door at exactly five-oh-five pm Atlanta time.

"Come in," I said loud enough for her to hear.

The office assistant was gone for the day. She had to be if Sandra had to knock. We would have privacy. When the door opened, in came Sandra dressed exactly as I had asked. She stopped at the center of the carpet where I pointed to in silence. All in a manner of utter obedience. When I walked around the desk, she looked up demurely.

Early on, I had required her obedience until she understood her place. My intention was clarity in our separate roles as teacher and student. As time passed, I had relaxed those rules. But Sandra was now hooked and wanted the roles between us reinforced, not diluted.

"You just, can't help yourself, can you?" I asked as I stood and approached her.

"I know," she replied in a low tone of voice. "I'm hopeless."

She flinched as I reached for her but stood waiting for what was coming. When my hand tugged her zipper, her breathing became more intense. She let out a slight whimper as I pulled her dress apart and freed that wonderful body for my eyes to feast on.

"Stand still. Push your breasts out."

By this point in our association, I knew how Sandra liked to be roughed up so I indulged her. Not to extremes but enough to seem like she was being taken. Enough for marks to be left as minor pain was inflicted. I thought she needed that illusion of being under my spell and could not bring herself to resist. We all have our kinks and sexual wants. Who was I to deny Sandra hers? The look of erotic abandon and enjoyment on her face was my payment. My kink.

"Stand still," I commanded as my hands grasped her breasts roughly as I knew she liked.

Her thick nipples were more sensitive than most women I had met so far. And she loved having them tweaked and bitten. She received the groping and mauling that she liked. But I left the biting for later. Either way, when we would meet with her husband, he would see the marks I left on her body. He loved that. What he would not see is how she reacted when mauled and dominated in private.

"Harder," she murmured, driving me to give her more.

She flinched momentarily then stood still gasping from the pain. I had not hurt her that much I thought. Then realized, it was not about the actual pain, but about the situation and her perception of it. The emotional arousal of being taken, coupled with the physical. She was such a nasty girl under all her good-wife veneer.

I have to admit. Her submissiveness was intoxicating. For the first time, I found myself aroused by it and joining in willingly.

"Spread your legs," I hissed.

When she did, my hand cupped and grasped her entire vulva. It was not a gentle fondling. That was not what Sandra wanted. In previous encounters, she had asked me to be rougher and rougher with her. I began to wonder who was training whom? She had whispered in my ear. Begging me to. Just as she did now.

"Use me," she whispered then moaned as two of my fingers found her juicy slit.

She was so ready for it, but not exactly sure how far I would go. I always tried to surprise her with something, and she always acted shocked. My now wet fingers traveled down between her spread legs to search for her back hole. Finding it, I used a finger to tease and loosen her grommet.

"Feels so good," she gasped closing her eyes.

Jim, her cuckold husband, had seen me fuck and manhandle his wife plenty of times by then. Yet he had not seen the look she gave me as I teased and took her body as I pleased. That look of want and utter surrender complemented by louder gasps and whimpers. Jim had not seen how she gave herself to me as if on a platter.

"What are you going to do to me? she asked.

But I heard "do whatever demented nastiness you can think of."

In minutes, we were both naked on the rug floor. Me standing erect, while she swayed, busy on her knees. Her mouth occupied as my fingers ran through her hair. She would need to redo it after, but I did not care. If she wanted to play this game, she would look like what she had been doing when we finished. She did not care either.

By now Sandra was well trained in oral and deep throat. Hardly any gag reflex. The slurping sounds added to the atmosphere as she got me ready for the main event. And there was always the main event in part two, then three of our get-togethers.

Already in character for this play, I did my best to act like her domme and pushed her away. Sandra looked up with a look of disappointment as if she had displeased me. But to be honest, she had me worked up with that award-winning blowjob and I wanted more.

I love going down on women and the reaction I get from them during. Yet Sandra had made it clear to me that licking her cunt was beneath me. To her, that was her husband's job.

Look, it's a cuckold-hotwife thing. They have all these little quirks. Nuances of their lifestyle that the rest of us shake our heads at. But in their world, going down on a woman was a subservient act. Nothing her domme-bull would do. By their thinking, it would ruin the experience.

Each time she and I had sex alone, she would rush home for Jim to eat her out. In cuckold world that usually included the Bull cumming inside her without a condom. Something I had refused to do for them so far. Even though they had been persistent in asking.

"Hop up on the desk," I said and opened a condom packet.

"Dave," she asked nervously. "Do you think you will ever cum inside me?"

I acted as if I ignored her question as I donned the rubber sheath over myself.

"Don't ruin the moment Sandra," I replied as I moved between her thighs.

Not giving her a chance to recover and speak, I spread her legs wide open by lifting them from her ankles. She fell back on the desk and her hands. Her legs as wide open as the slit between them that was wet and inviting. I wasted no more time and moved forward. Using my hips, I maneuvered my thickness to her entrance and began to probe.

"Don't," she said in surrender. "I'm married..."

Oh, the nasty little slut! She was all in on the fantasy. So that's how it was going to be.

"Well, your husband is not here to defend your honor, is he?" I kind of regretted that as soon as I said it.

It was a slip-up on my part getting in character with her. A betrayal to Jim who I liked as a person. Unlike some people who detest cuckolds, I saw them as just a person with strange desires. The type I would never have and never did. Did I like all of them? Hell no. Some were assholes. But some were nice guys or different people when not in a cuck session.

Sandra might have returned to Jim and told him what I said. I wondered about that for some time after. But if she did, he never spoke of it or acted miffed.

"No, he is not," she replied between my thrusts. "He knows I am with you."

"Does he?" I said not breaking my rhythm.

She looked down to watch my cock enter her time and again. She was always fascinated by it.

"I always tell him. He needs to hear it. He wants to," she gasped again. "Augh...He gave me to you Dave... oh yes... fuck me, baby... fuck me."

Not wanting to trash Jim again, I kept my mouth shut.

"I'm not his anymore Dave," she said still staring at our union.

I almost missed that comment's significance as we fucked. The sounds of our fucking were my only response. Squishing and slapping. Grunting and sighing. But she was not done.

"I never realized how much I wanted to be someone else's fuck toy," she uttered. "Someone not like Jim. Someone more manly and forceful."

What... the... fuck!

She saw the surprise in my eyes and nodded as if to say. You heard right.

"And not just that," she added. "But to a man worth giving myself to. You are that man Dave."

"I am that man... NOW," I replied trying to make that point that we were but temporary. "You're not mine."

"I want to be," she gasped. "Aw... Gawd!"

Hell, I was deep inside her and enjoying a good fuck. But she wanted to declare her allegiance to me? Was this an old movie about Romans? I just wanted to fuck and see that look on her face. To get my kink...

I kept trying to focus on fucking her hoping she would stop this conversation. To distract her, I pushed in her deeper and harder. It made her groan momentarily, but did not distract her. What was I doing wrong?

"I have been feeling I am yours for some time and couldn't bring myself to admit it or say it to you."

"Well, if you are," I replied flippantly to get this stopped before it got out of hand. "You need to leave it until after we finish."

Surprisingly, she did as I asked letting the subject be. And before long, she had an orgasm by the way she buried her fingernails on the back of my upper arms.

"Turn around," I ordered her as I pulled myself out.

She did just that and leaned over the desk in all her glory. All anyone had to do was look at Sandra's narrow form to understand why she had two children via cesarean section. Her pelvis, hips, and ass were all narrow. Yet those long legs and flawless back made her form seem like that of a Greek goddess.

I did not have to ask her to spread her legs. That she did on her own. Her early training now in full bloom. Between her thigh gap, her splayed labia shone from her wetness of her arousal. I felt her shiver when my left hand rested on the small of her back. Knowing what was to come, she arched her back and stood on the balls of her feet bending her knees slightly.

I stared between her butch cheeks to see a red butt-plug inserted in her anus. When had the nasty girl shoved that toy in her? I smiled to myself as it did not matter. What mattered was that little miss goody Sandra Knox was becoming a nasty hotwife slut. If this was supposed to elicit a response from me, I did not give her that satisfaction. Inwardly I wondered if she was disappointed I did not mention it.

But I had other things are hand for this three-course meal. Having had her mouth and throat, my focus shifted to just below that red plug.

With my right hand, I guided my cock to her entrance, using the tip to tease her opening.

"Oh yes Dave," she uttered. "Violate me... defile me..."

To say she got to my head with her comments would be an understatement. Already worked up from her suggestive conversation, I needed little encouragement to take what I wanted. In one motion, I rammed myself in her slamming my entire length in her. When I bottomed out, she groaned and pushed back toward me.

There is a special moment between two lovers when they know each other's bodies and how to hit each other's pleasure points. Not just physically, but mentally. Sandra and I had reached that point before that day, but something about her declaration that her body was mine drove me to possess her. Not as a wife or personal property. Our connection was never about that as far as I was concerned. It was purely sexual. For her to be my fuck-toy as she had described herself.

Until that day I was under the notion that Sandra did not see me or want me to be a replacement for her husband Jim. That would have ruined what she and I had. But her dependence on me was a source of worry. Twice she had hopped on a plane and flown to Columbus leaving Jim to watch the kids. We had fucked all weekend like crazy.

And as I fucked her that day in the office, I realized how she was becoming a part of my life that was getting in the way of my dream. To find my own woman to settle down with and have a family.

I still dated back home but sex with Sandra was such that I found other women lacking. She had become addicting. I was angry at myself for having fallen under her spell. No matter what, I could never let her know or let her dominate my life.

'She is not yours,' I told myself as I fucked her harder and harder.

Sandra's cunt felt amazing. The cunt a woman has before birthing children. But then some women had a tighter one after an episiotomy and the scaring of the stitches. I had fucked so many mother hotwives to be able to tell the difference by then. Even with a condom.

I plunged in it, splitting it open with my thick cock and feeling my tip push into her depths each time. She had learned to enjoy that part as much as my stretching her channel as we fucked.

"Ungh... ungh... ungh... yes...oh... fuck me... yes... fuck my cunt..." I heard her.

She was always more vocal when she was with me alone. More erotic. Nastier. Borderline filthy. She had sought me along with her husband for the realization of a fantasy. That was months before. From what I saw and heard her say, the reality had become addicting to them both.

Reaching for her purse next to us I opened it as we fucked. She now had a collection of sex aids there for us to use. I knew exactly what I was looking for. Continuing to fuck her, I took it out and laid it on the desk next to us. Beneath me, Sandra was approaching another of her orgasms. I could see her right arm under her body as her left was bent at the elbow around her head.
"Are you fingering your clit?" I asked.

"Yes," she replied. "do you want me to stop?"

"Why would I?" I asked.

She was silent for a minute, not sure what to say I bet. I laughed inwardly. She was so caught up in the submission game that she expected me to keep her from enjoying herself? I have to admit, the whole domination thing goes over my head. But sex with Sandra was too much fun, so I indulged her.

"Did you cum yet?" I asked to change the subject.

"Eh...no, but I'm close," she replied.

'Let's get you there," I said as I continued fucking her. Although harder, as she became more vocal.

She almost collapsed on the desk with my cock still in her taking my short strokes.

"That felt so good," she said.

"Wait," I replied. "There's more."

"Oh Gawd!" she squealed when I reached for her butt-plug.

It popped loose leaving her asshole gaping for a few seconds. It was slowly closing as I lubricated it with one and then two fingers. Sandra had been very attentive to her body cleanliness. She had probably used an enema to clean her bowels anticipating a good ass fuck. Anyone that attentive had to be rewarded.

"Remember your training Sandra," I said in a voice imitating Obi One Kenobi.

"Use the force..." she giggled.

It was our private joke, that we had not shared with Jim yet. A play on star wars "use the force" it actually had relevance to butt-fucking. Wait...wait... don't laugh or scoff. Let Jedi Master Dave explain. This may come in handy.

You see, when I was a young sex padawan my-self, Margo my Jedi Mistress had instructed me in the use of a valuable technique. For a woman to accommodate a man's hard cock in her tight ass, she had to relax her sphincter muscle. The ring of her asshole in everyday vernacular. To do so, a woman had to focus. Then she had to use "the force."

OK. This is how it works. After lubrication of her asshole and his cock the man places his dick-head at her entrance. He applies a little pressure. No, he does NOT force his cock in the poor woman as you read in stupid porn novels. That hurts both her... AND HIM. Now when she feels that slight constant pressure, the woman strains her bowels back as if to make a bowel movement. This naturally opens her back hole and allows the man's cock to slip in her rectum with little to no pain or discomfort.

Lesson over.

Now here Sandra and I were in that position and despite my above-average girth, my cock slipped into her back hole and began its traverse to the depths of her warm bowels. I have to give it to Sandra, no pun. She took it like a champ. Of course, we had been doing this for some time, so she had plenty of practice.

Still taking a thick dick up one's ass is quite the feat. And the feeling is scrumptious. It feels so nice and warm in there. Not to mention, from what women have told me, they feel a man's cock in them more intently than their pussies. Who knew right?

It was not long before I was fucking Sandra's ass like it was the last ass on earth. And Bruce Willis had not stopped the asteroid. Her tight smaller ass added to the tightness. Oh boy, I let the secret out. Big booty is not always as tight. It's probably the added muscles athletic girls have on their ass.

Where was I?

Oh yeah, fucking Sandra's fine ass. And fine it was. I was enjoying it a bit too much if there is such a thing. After having her mouth and then her pussy, yours truly was on the edge. I started going in for the home stretch and Sandra knew it.

"FUCK!" was all I remember saying as I came.

After a few seconds, when all my spunk had emptied of me, I managed to pull back and stand to catch my breath. There was some brief dizziness, but it lasted a mere second or two as I steadied myself on the desk.

"Dave," she asked cautiously. "Do you think you can cum in my ass bare one of these days?"

"You mean bareback?" I asked a bit frazzled.

I think my IQ drops down from the 146 it was then to 70. Because I had a big Duh! Moment.

"Yes... please..." she replied standing to hug me.

"Why?" I actually asked.

No seriously. Mr. Genius here could not figure out why she wanted me to... "OHHHH!"

Lightbulb moment!

All of a sudden my senses came back.

"We've discussed it before Sandra, my cum is mine."

"But why?" she asked

I contemplated replying with a terse "'cause I said so." Instead, I debated if it would be best if she knew the reason.

Long ago, I had gotten my first hotwife pregnant. I had also fallen in love with her. A stupid thing to do as she was still married to my college friend. Near the end of the pregnancy, in a fit of jealousy over something another woman said, Abby had disappeared forever. I would not learn for some time that the children had been placed for adoption and taken by their new parents out of the country. I had spent a year and a small fortune looking for them to no avail.

But I had learned a lesson and, in some ways, became paranoid. The thought of a woman, any woman absconding with my children terrified me. I had not participated in unprotected sex in years. And the reason I had not married my army girlfriend was over who would have the children after we got married and if then we decided to divorce.

"Get dressed Sandra," I said when I finally. "We're going to my hotel."

My mood was spoiled. I wasn't sure I trusted her anymore. She was becoming too attached to me and I needed space. But then I questioned myself as well. I had gotten too familiar with the wife of another man. There was no other way to say it, but I had broken my own rule. I needed some space from her.

We arrived just in time for Jim to come over. He had paid a babysitter for the night thinking we were having fun and games. Instead, he found a dejected Sandra and a moody Dave Fulsome.

"Guys, I'm not in the best of moods tonight. Can we do a rain check?"

They were both concerned. Jim had been anticipating watching me and his wife together. But Sandra knew something had happened to me earlier that had struck deep to the core.

"We need to talk," she said after sending Jim downstairs telling him she would be there in ten minutes.

Ten minutes was not enough time for sex. Satisfied with the situation but clearly miffed, he nodded and left. Sandra and I stood there and just looked at each other.

"What did I do?" she asked. "I spoiled the mood. I know that."

I stood quietly as I gathered my thoughts. Should I keep on the façade of "Sir" or did I explain to her what happened? I chose to do neither. I feared us becoming more familiar and connected, so I did not explain. But I tired of the "Sir" persona and smiled at her.

"It's not so much what you did. Its what I have not told you."

She looked back confused.

"Some years back, I got involved with my first hotwife. She and her husband were close friends. We... I... fell in love. I thought she was in love with me. She certainly acted like she was. She got pregnant with twins. I am almost certain I was the father. Having a lot of money then, I spent most of it on investigators. She had no other lovers at the time she got pregnant."

"Her husband?" she asked uncomfortably.

"He was gay and had come out of the closet. I still don't understand the attraction between them. Near the end of her pregnancy, she left me and disappeared. Sometime later, over a year in fact, I learned she had returned to Alan. He made her or she agreed to put the children up for adoption. The kids ended up overseas. I know the country, but not their names and location."

"Oh Dave," she said coming close to hug me.

I guess I was vulnerable and let her hug and kiss me.

"So, you see, I am very paranoid about cumming in a woman. Any woman. My relationship with a woman I love is on hold until I can come to my senses."

She stiffened at the mention of a rival and my confession of love for another.

"Do you love her? I mean, are you sure?" she asked with trepidation.

I said nothing but nodded to say yes. Everything hurt too much.

"She is a lucky girl," Sandra said still holding me. "I would give anything to have you as my husband."

I snapped back to reality.

"That is a shitty thing to say about Jim," I said pulling away. "He is a good man."

"Maybe YOU can marry him," she replied sarcastically.

Well, well. So much for her need to be subservient.

"I told you that you would lose respect for him didn't I?" I said fixing her gaze with mine.

She flinched and looked away.

"He is not you," she snapped.

"Oh for heaven's sake Sandra," I replied in frustration. "I told you I was just the bull, the facilitator of the fantasy. A guide. A mentor."

"I don't need a fucken mentor Dave," she shot back with a look of disappointment. "I need a real man in my life. My husband is a weak cuckold. I want you while you want to play wise-man of the mountain top. While I get a taste of good fucking and see a man who can't wait to have children. You want kids? I can give you kids. I'm young and healthy. Just say the word."

"You are someone else's wife," I reminded her.

"Not if I don't want to be," she replied. "What if I want to be YOUR wife."

I scoffed at that and then smiled. Maybe a little condescendingly. She pulled back.

"What? I'm not good enough for you?" she asked.

"This," I said waving my arms around, "is no way for a couple to start a life, Sandra. And..."

"And what?" she asked.

"Sandra, I don't love you."

It was her turn to scoff.

"Oh please," she said incredulously. "LOVE! What's that and who needs it?"

I said nothing knowing she would continue. And she did.

"What did love get me? A weak husband who is only good at providing a paycheck, watching the kids, and looking good when we go out. He is a dud in bed and boring. I want an exciting man in my life. A good lover that rocks my world like you do. I want the sex we had this afternoon anytime I want it."

"It doesn't work like that Sandra," I replied. "That was not the deal."

"Then make a new deal," she shot back.

"I want a woman who loves me, not just one who wants my dick," I said raising my hand to stop her when she tried to protest. "I'm your bull. The human dildo attached to a human body. Nothing more. You are not in love. You are infatuated."

"Really?" she said crossing her arms with a smirk. "And what are you? I can tell you and I have a connection."

"Its sexual Sandra," I replied quietly still looking at her directly. Only this time she was not flinching. "There is no love."

"Love is overrated Dave," she said shaking her head at me in disappointment. "You are chasing an illusion. Our bodies and our chemistry are real. Think about it."

And with that, she made her exit.

I stood there in silence. But this was no movie and there was no mood music or end credits. But there might as well have been. This was more a TV show than a single feature, and this episode of our lives was over. A new one was about to begin.

***

Where do we go from here?

"What happened last night?" Jim asked.

What could I have told him? Your wife wants to dump you and have my cubs? That in this proverbial Serengeti, the new lion had replaced the old lion? That like all lionesses before she was willing to trade up and give herself to the younger and stronger male? At least I would not have to kill Jim's kids like lions do when they take over a pride.

He stared at me expectantly knowing something had happened between me and his wife.

"We fucked in my office," I replied.

It was actually HIS office, but I used it as my own when I was in Atlanta. Saying my office put him in his place and maybe ended this conversation. My cold stared made him flinch.

"Did she... respond?" Jim asked nervously.

He was so pitiful just then. So much so that he angered me.

"What do you think Jim?" I asked sarcastically. "Do you think she sat there like a cold fish as I fucked her mouth and pussy... and ass?"

He inhaled sharply and touched his crotch.

"What did I say about that?" I admonished him.

He took his hands away from his crotch and sat there with his fist balled over his knees.

"I wanted to watch," he said in a whiny voice. "I was supposed to watch."

I looked at him surprised at his outburst.

"Stop that," I corrected him. "You are acting like a child."

He was not deterred. His hands still balled into fists and he was shaking.

"I work hard for you Dave... I mean Sir. I do all the work and again, no one appreciates it. All I ask is that I can see you with Sandy... Once a month! It's only once a month and you canceled." He then straightened and whimpered. "I deserve better."

I had not slept well, but I was kind of rested and not upset as I had been the night before. I needed him to do his job in Atlanta. My bosses had backed my recommendation to put him in charge of the plant. Fat man was now just a figurehead who received a check while I fucked his wife.

And I had fucked trophy wife hard the night before on short notice. Fat man came to work but never looked at me in the eye in meetings. Instead, he remained quiet and let Jim do all the talking. A local headhunter told us that Fat man was already looking for a job; in California. Trophy wife was not going with him.

"Eight o'clock at my hotel room," I told Jim. "Leave now to make arrangements."

His reaction was pitiful and embarrassing. Jim, the man who ran our plant, fell on his knees in front of me and kissed my hand before I had a chance to stop him.

"I would do anything for you, Sir," he said and ran out of the room before I could admonish him.

"He is all giddy and hard as a rock." I assumed shaking my head. "How the fuck did I get myself in this mess?"

***

Frustrated with the Knox couple, I was detached as I fucked the living shit out of Sandra that night. She was so ecstatic she stared at me adoringly and followed me to the bathroom like a puppy to hold my dick as I peed. Normally I didn't go for this top/bottom stuff. But I was still miffed and let her humiliate herself.

"See boss," she said calling me that for the first time. "I can be so good for you. I can be all you need in a woman."

"You are my cum dump Sandra," I replied with disdain.

"That too," she replied as she shook my cock and then licked it dry. What the fuck!

"I can be that the mother of your children, your cook and slave if you want. Just so long as you fuck me and use me. You can even beat me."

The woman had issues.

"OK, that's enough," I said. "Take a shower."

"You first sir," she replied looking briefly at the door.

Her husband was lurking there watching us and masturbating. She looked away as if he was just a piece of furniture. Their lack of connection was starting to worry me. I wondered if this was the only interaction they had.

"Get in here Jim," I said as I stepped in the shower with his wife.

She ran the water and started washing my back.

"Yes Sir," he replied.

"You two are in for a treat," I said feeling Sandra stop washing me for a second, but she resumed when I turned to look at her. "I have a surprise for you two."

Neither of them said anything.

When I finished, I stepped out of the shower and took a towel Jim gave me. Out of the bathroom, I walked to the phone on the side of the bedside table and called the front desk.

"This is room 916. Send her up please," I said and hung up.

I was lounging on the bed with Sandra worshiping my cock with her mouth when there was a knock on the door.

"Get that," I said to naked Jim.

He seemed embarrassed, but obeyed and stepped aside to reveal Trophy wife. Her name is Lu-Linda Harper by the way. No shit. Short for Louise-Linda. And Harper is her maiden name. Since she was divorcing Fat man, she was now Ms. Harper.

"Hi Louise," I called to her as she surveyed the scene and entered.

She passed Jim who was standing naked and erect at attention like a palace guard. After she entered, he closed the door as if he was the porter at the Waldorf Astoria. Curiously, Sandra let go of my cock to look who it was, but I tapped her head and made her go back to her oral duties.

"Keep sucking Sandra," I said.

The rest of the evening was an epic in debauchery lore. Louise and I were the king and queen as the Knox couple played servants and sex slaves for us. Oh, don't feel sorry for them they loved it. And they deserved it.

Jim was Louise's personal ,butt-boy, and Sandra was mine. If they wanted to be subservient and used, that was what they would get. We made them give us oral. Louise suggested they lick our assholes. Louise loved that. Normally I like my asshole left alone. But I make exceptions for servants I like. I mean they are the only ones I had. So I had Sandra suck my balls. She loved it.

Jim was torn between licking his new mistress's asshole and staring at his wife sucking balls. Louise turned to look at me and shook her head at the scene.

"Where did you find them?" she asked.

"They found me."

***

Time to grow up

For the next two months, I traveled to Atlanta like before and met Jim Knox at the office for business.

It was a Thursday, August 2nd, 1990. A day Saddam Hussein, dictator of Iraq decided to invade Kuwait. I was in Columbus then and got a call from an army buddy. We talked about what was going on and wondered what would happen next. We sweated it out for a while. Then on August 6th, we were both called back to active duty.

I did not get to go back to Atlanta before I had to report to Ft. Knox to help train soldiers going to Saudi Arabia. Then in typical Army fashion, I received orders to report to Germany. I had to leave later that day.

I barely had time to get my self packed and to call my folks, my boss, Louise, Jim, and Sandra. Everyone understood and wished me well. Sandra listened quietly then just hung up.

The Germany unit was already full of officers and some spares, but the army decided to send some spare Armor combat branch officers to Saudi Arabia as spares. I guess they expected officer casualties and wanted us to fill their commands. In my case as 1st Lieutenant, I would most likely command a platoon that had lost its commander. I did not look forward to it.

Before I left Germany, I called my girlfriend. She was not at the place she shared with a girlfriend.

"Dave, her roommate said. Elsie is not here."

"Where is she?" I asked.

"Dave, you have no right to ask. You left her hanging for too long. She is in Las Vegas."

"Vegas?" I asked. "What's in Vegas?"

"The guy that asked her to go with him. The guy who has been here while you are off doing whatever it is you do. That guy."

I had nothing to say, so the line went silent from both ends.

"Dave, are you there?" she asked.

"Ah yeah. Look, Mandy, can you tell her I called when she gets back. They are sending me to Saudi Arabia. I'll write her."

"Saudi... you mean the war!"

"Yeah, that one. I plant o return," I said and hung up.

I think I heard her yell "wait" as I was hanging up. But I didn't feel like it. Inside I felt like shit.

***

Long story short, I was there for the final push into Iraq and the battles with the Republican guard as a last-minute replacement. All the officer billets were filled, so the commander offered me the only job he had. Loader for one of the tanks.

Another man would have turned it down. But you have to understand, I had never been in combat and in typical young man fashion, I wanted to prove to myself that I had what it took and accepted the position.

Most of my time there was boring as most wars are for soldiers. I received some letters from family, friends, and a few from Sandra. Most correspondence from her was at the beginning of my deployment. They included sexy descriptions of what she wanted me to do to her when I returned. One letter smelled of her sex. Crazy woman.
Jim had been sending me regular reports of the processes in Atlanta as I was expected to return and resume my civilian duties. Having informed him that my mail would be censored, he refrained to mention anything about the relationship I had with his wife for obvious reasons.

Sandra's letters did not have her name for the same reason. Instead, she had used the name and address of one of the single women at her job who was a good friend of hers. Before I left, I worried that her friend could find out about Sandra, her husband, and me, so I was careful what to write as well. Then her letters stopped.

By the second month, the only letters I was receiving were from family, Jim, and a few girlfriends. Sandra had stopped sending letters altogether. By the 7th week in Saudi, I wrote Jim and asked him cryptically how the family was. He responded similarly.

"Dave,

Sandra has changed since you left. She is rude and moody. Comes home late and sometimes not at all at nights on Fridays. You warned me about her becoming erratic at some point, but this more than I expected.

I wasn't going to dump this on you where you are, but you asked what happened. I assume she has not written to you at all. She is probably busy with new friends.

Your friend Jim."

I knew what he meant by new friends. His wife Sandra had enjoyed the extramarital sex with yours truly. With me gone she had found other men who could meet her needs. I remember shaking my head at her outcome, but to be honest, I was not that surprised. Some hotwives became addicted to the action and needed to feed that new craving.

You see, its more than just the sex. Although no hotwife seeks unattractive or small-dicked men who cannot satisfy her. But the real drug in being a hotwife is the attention.

Still, there was little I could do about Sandra and her behavioral change. In the months since our first encounter, I had tried to prepare Jim for the worse. But no matter how much you brace for impact; it always hurts in one way or another. They would have to rely on each other as I had to rely on the crew of our tank to survive the upcoming invasion of Southern Iraq.

Then I got her letter.

"Dear Dave,

I am so sorry I have not written earlier. I had a lot to sort out in my mind. About us. About what I said about marriage and children. I did a lot of thinking, talked to my mom and some friends, and finally think I understand what your concerns are.

I meant what I said. I want us to get married and have children. Your and my children. And you don't have to worry about me running off with them. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, not him. I already told him I am leaving him for you.

Please take care of yourself and write me when you can. I want to hear from you.

Love with all my heart.

Your Elsie."

I must have read that letter a hundred times.

And for the first time in my life since Abby's betrayal, I found myself wanting to be with Elsie more than anyone in the world.

***

We had been hearing the bombing for weeks now just over the border. The coalition air forces were softening up the hapless Iraqi army units on the front line. The poor sods just took the pounding and their casualties until they were at half strength and near-zero moral. It helped us immensely, but when we eventually advanced, it was anticlimactic. At first.

Then the balloon went up and we crossed into Iraq. The border area was littered with destroyed enemy vehicles and after about an hour of minimal fighting, only two types of Iraqis. The dead and those surrendering. Thousands of both. The smell was atrocious. As was the pitiful state of the Iraqi soldiers surrendering.

Eventually, we got close to the Iraqi Republican Guards to lock horns with them. These types were not your normal Iraqi. They were well-fed, had the best Russian tanks and weapons. And in site of air attack casualties, these hardliners stood and fought.

Tank to tank combat starts as soon as the technology on a tank allows its crew to fire on the enemy and kill them. And our technology was better than theirs. Our modern tank computers and sensors allowed us to take shots first and further away. But these enemy tank units had managed to dig berms to hide them and smoke from oil to provide concealment until we got closer. In other areas, the smoke did not work well, and the air asserts savaged their tanks. But in our sector, everything went their way. At first.

My job was to make sure the tank gun was loaded. And if the commander bought it, I was to take over... and load. By now we all on edge and ready. Our main guns were loaded and ready when we crested a low ridge. Then all hell broke loose.

The radios crackled and reports started coming in of enemy tanks. Our tank commander, the TC, was a young black E-6 from Indianapolis. Professional and focused. He would not be a tank commander if he was not. Like most young men, he typified the armor and cavalry branch of the army. Riding in battle standing tall on the turret.

There had been a tense moment when we had been introduced and he realized a reservist 1st Lieutenant was going to be his loader. And a white one at that. But I let him know right away that the tank was his and I was but his loader. From then on, I called him TC and he called me Loader. A nickname that stuck for the duration of Desert Storm. In my demented mind, I thought of me shoving my cock in Sandra like a SABOT round in a gun breach and yelling "UP!"

Loader indeed.

"GUNNERENEMYTANK2100LOADERSABOTDRIVERFORWARD," TC yelled out waking me from my thoughts of home and Sandra's sweet pussy.

He called out the command order set quickly as tank commands all were. As if it was one long word. To a civilian and some non-tankers, it sounded like gibberish. But to tanker crews, those fast commands were drilled into our heads and came second nature. (I will not bore you with an explanation. This is not a Clancy novel. You can google it.)

Having identified the enemy tank, TC turned the turret toward the target and let the gunner scan and acquire it.

The gun had a SABOT round in it, a tank-killing round. Thinking ahead, I got another ready in my hands from the rear rack and closed the blast door standing ready to load.

"IDENTIFIED!" the gunner replied.

"Gunner take over, fire when ready."

"ON THE WAY!" the gunner yelled, and the gun fired sending the heavy metal breach back past me.

As soon as the gun breach returned forward, I loaded the gun as the next command came.

TC. "GUNNERNEWTARGET2200LOADERSABOTDRIVERFORWARD!"

Gunner. "IDENTIFIED!"

I loaded the SABOT round and hitting the ready switch yelled "UP!"

TC. "FIRE!"

Gunner. "ONTHEWAY!"

The gun went off again.

And so, this continued. Shoot, reload, shoot, reload. I lost track of time as my world was just tank commands, loading the main gun and the shock of the main gun firing. Then...

"BANG!"

I was standing to the side of the breach, as a loader did when the gun was to fire. That's when the entire tank shook, and we were all tossed around in it like rag dolls. I had been facing the left side of the turret interior, my right when it happened. Even with a CVC tanker helmet on, I was slammed on the turret interior face first and promptly passed out.

In a haze, I saw her waving to me. It was in slow motion. Her hair was swaying in the wind. Her eyes burned for me and that smile. Oh Gawd that smile! Those lips. She was saying something. I could read her lips.

"Come home to me."

I woke outside the tank with a young black soldier over me. A medic.

"I got you... relax, I got you" I remember him saying.

My head hurt immensely, and my nose was bloody, it may have been broken, but I didn't know. My face, head, shoulder, right side, and left knee all hurt. Dizziness and pain combined to prevent me from understanding what happened.

Sitting on a stretcher next to me was the TC. He had cuts on the right side of his upper body and face.

"What happened? I think I asked.

"We got hit," he replied. "A tank round hit my side of the turret; I was partially outside so I took shrapnel."

"Is it serious?" I asked him.

"Not for me. Its fucken cuts and bruises." The TC said. "You on the other hand look like shit."

"I feel like shit," I said.

"That's because you probably have a concussion, possibly a broken rib or two and bruises." The medic said. "They will check you out when you get medevacked."

I remember snippets of the rest of that day. A helicopter ride to a hospital. Nurses and doctors fussing over me. Sleeping and waking in different places. I think I woke inside a military plane flying me out of the sandbox and to a hospital in Germany. There finally a female army doctor talked to me.

"Lieutenant Fulsome, I am Major Blackstone. You are currently in Landstuhl Germany. You had multiple injuries of which the most serious one is a skull fracture and associated concussion.

"You also have a cracked bone on your nose, a cracked rib, and multiple non-threatening contusions. Right knee left upper shoulder, oh yes, and a broken finger on your left hand. You won't be using that to flip off anyone," she laughed at her joke. "IF it wasn't for your CVC, you may not be here right now. But you did hit the side of the turret face first. Any questions?"

"Yes," I replied. "How long will I be here?"

"About a week," she replied. "We want to keep you for observation. Brain injuries are like that. If you notice any change in your senses? Vision, smell, hearing. Even taste of food, let the nurses know or myself when I do rounds. OK?"

"I guess..."

"You guess?"

"I don't know ma'am," I replied. "You're the doctor."

"Good, a sense of humor. Only a bit on the snide side. Is that what passes for charm where you are from Lieutenant?"

I stared back at her. She was about thirty-five. Auburn hair cut short. High cheekbones, gray yes. Nice shape under her BDU's. Hard for women to pull that off. I think hers were fitted, not standard baggy like.

"The patient has good eye observation, but has missed the rings on my hand," she said as if she was jotting down on the clipboard.

Then she waved her hand for me to see them. I nodded and remember to keep myself from saying. "Ask your hubby if he would let us..."

Then I passed out.

***

Two months later, I was released from Walter Reed Hospital and separated from the service on medical grounds. My days with the military were over.

It bothered me at first. Joining the military had been a dream of mine as a young boy. Each year in Athens there is a parade for independence day. My father always took me there to see it. The sound and ground shaking under my feet when the tanks went by left a lasting impression.

Years later, when I came to the US, the dream of serving in the Army did not go away. And eventually, it became a reality. But sadly, there is not much money to be made in the military and I was lured to the civilian world where I did well in business and stayed in the reserves just to indulge my Army fix. And still be near my beloved tanks. Yeah, I know. The dream of a boy.

But this dream in reality for men is dangerous even in peacetime. In war much more so. For me, it was almost life-ending. What saved me, other than the medical staff who cared for me, were the designers of the M1 tank I was a loader for. The armor design prevented the tank from being penetrated and killing us all. I was saved by a British "boffin" engineer who came up with the armor for British and American tanks. Because of it, we did not lose a single one to enemy fire.

One of the things I remember was passing by Iraqi destroyed tanks. Tanks that our tanks had laid waste to in minutes. Fearful metal monsters minutes before either burning or smoldering now. Turrets tossed off from the force of the explosion as if they were toys. Ammunition still exploding in the funeral pyres. And the human cost in each destroyed tank. Total.

I still remember the smell of burning flesh and in a few cases, blown body parts littering the hellish desert battlefield. Images seared in a young man's mind. Images that wiped away once and forever any of my childhood romantic notions about tanks and war. It was only two days since this battle had started for us, but it seemed like we had been advancing and fighting for two weeks.

The eventual hit on our tank and my evacuation ended not just my army career. It changed my attitude about life. I did a lot of thinking in the hospital before I was released into the civilian world. I asked myself a lot of questions about life and where I was headed. It's only a natural part of after war thinking my father told me.

At least he and I had the desert war experiences in common. Because other than that, we had drifted in life and become near strangers. It was worse with my mother who became more distant from me as time passed. When they left the US to retire back to Greece, I realized that my life had changed, and I had to think about my future. To stop playing games and grow up.

As I recovered I had a chance to catch up on mail and call home. I talked to everyone at least once. But I talked to Elsie a lot. We made plans to get together when I returned. When I told her I had to sort out some things in Atlanta, she paused.

"Dave, I will let you go there one last time to sort things out. But I have waited for you long enough. You say that you want to spend your life with me and start a family?"

"Yes, I do.," I replied.

"Then go sort this out and come back to me. When you do, I want to know that you are done with your women there and are ready to be exclusive to me as I am willing to be with you. Are we clear? Dave, if you love me like you say you do, this should be easy. If not, when you come back from Atlanta, just let me know and I will never bother you again."

It must have taken a lot of courage for her to say all that. But I never loved her more than that moment.

"When I get back," I said. "Get ready to have some serious talking."

I wanted to get married and start a family. And to this day there Elsie was only one woman that qualified. I loved her. No one else.

But I had some issues to resolve before I took that step.

***

One last ride

I was back at work again and back in Atlanta. To most people, I seemed normal as I went about doing business. But I no longer was. The thing is, I didn't even know this myself for a while.

The first thing on my agenda was getting with Jim Knox to make sure he had everything under control as his correspondence told me he did. I needn't have worried. Jim was a good manager and had grown into the job. And Jim had changed.

We kept personal talk for later during lunch and took care of business that first morning. Then we went out by ourselves for some southern cooking. The place we went to, had a few booths in the backroom and we took one for privacy. After we had been served, we looked at each other and then around us to make sure we could talk freely.

"What's going on Jim," I asked.

"I think my marriage is over Dave," he said matter of fact like and started to eat.

"What do you mean?" I asked incredulously. "What's going on?"

"I moved out Dave," he said. "There is just so much a man can take."

I just stared back and did my usual let them talk bit. He needed it.

"Like I wrote you," he continued, "it didn't take long after you left before Sandy... Sandra changed. And for the worse. Up until then Dave, she and I did everything together as a team. We had a family together, raised our children, and even plotted to bring you into our bed together."

"You weren't always there Jim," I said. "You gave her leeway to have sex without you."

"With you only Dave," he snapped angrily. "As she and I had agreed to. When she and I were a team. Equals."

'Oh that!' I thought inwardly.

"But as time passed, just as you said, she lost all respect for me and showed it."

Inside I wanted to say I told you so, but I didn't have to.

"She started talking down to me and going out with new... friends," he spat out. Well, I wrote you about it. I knew what she was doing. After all, I had been there the first time she did and many others. Only this was different. She was picking up men at clubs and going to motels for the night. And then some weekends, we were lucky if we saw her on Sunday. Who she is doing I can't tell you? But I did see some."

He stopped to compose himself.

"She called me from work one day to tell me the kids were at her mother's and to come home so we can play. I was dumb enough to think she meant us. See Dave, she cut me off after you left. Hasn't let me touch her since.

Typical of some cuckold couples, I thought. The hotwife cuts the man off from sex with her and controls him by letting him watch when she chooses to. To see what he craves, the cuckold will be obedient and do whatever she asks.

"So, what happened?" I asked.

"I came home and there were three cars in our driveway. When I went inside, she was naked in just high heels and stockings entertaining... guests. Three men and a woman. Believe it or not, the men did not shock me. She had informed me that she wanted to try multiple men and to get airtight. You know what that..."

"Yes, I do... go on."

"Well," he continued. "She proceeded to do everything with these three men. She took all three of them around the world and then some. Oh, they let me watch. Although the wife of one of the white guys was a shrew. She spent most of the evening taunting and humiliating me.

"You never did that to me, Dave. You never belittled me. I know I'm a cuckold. But that doesn't mean my own wife can laugh at me while her lovers screw her, and that bitch made fun of me all night long. In my own house. In our house!"

His face was now contorted.

"Dave, they tied me to a chair and Sandra just let them and stared at me with disdain."

Sandra. He was no longer calling his wife by the name he did when I met them. That was because his Sandy was apparently gone. The way he was describing her, she had transformed into another person. Sadly, one I had started down a path I had hoped they would not stray to.

"Sandra did nothing... NOTHING to stop them!"

"I think they drugged me, Dave. I remember parts of the night. They carried the chair with me in it to our bedroom where Sandra entertained everyone, and they used me as a prop. They would fuck her and pull out to cum on me.

"But the worse... the worse Dave was when one of them was cumming on me and Sandra leaned down to taunt me herself. Everyone was laughing at me as Sandra squirted their cum on my face from her rancid cunt. Dave, she told me I was useless, worthless, and an embarrassment to her. She said all that as the woman's husband peed on me and she looked down with disdain.

"The things she said to me, I would never say to another human being. I saw hatred in her Dave. Skip past loss of respect and disdain to red hot hate. But the worse thing she said to me was this.

"You brought all this on yourself with your stupid fantasies. You destroyed our marriage by putting us down this path. You turned me into what I am and what I think of you. You deserve it."

"I woke the next day naked and untied on the floor. I hurt all over. Then I saw a note with a VHS cassette next to it. You guessed it. They filmed it all. And it was not pretty. I was so drugged, I never resisted.

"The note only said, "what would people think?"

"Did you tell anyone?"

"Are you kidding me?" Jim said looking at me as if I was stupid.

This was not the Jim I knew before I left. He had changed and become a bitter harder person.

"I would be ruined if they showed that to your company and my family. I would lose the children. She uses them to control me, Dave. Threats of taking them and leaving. Of getting total custody in a divorce. She has me over a barrel there."
"You are not still living together, are you?" I asked.

"Hell no," Jim replied. "I moved out and am living in an apartment."

"How are you handling it alone?" I asked.

"Who says I'm alone?" he scoffed. "Fat boy's trophy wife moved in with me."

I almost laughed. What was her name anyway?

"Louise finally left fat man?" I asked.

"Yup she divorced him as soon as you left for the war," Jim said. "She and I are fucking up a storm and trash-talking our spouses."

"Does it help?" I asked.

"Not really, Dave," he said looking away. "But I grudge fuck her every day thinking I am fucking Sandra while fat boy's wife thinks this is the best sex she ever had. Apparently, she likes it rough. If I am not rough enough, she reminds me what Sandra and her lovers did to me and I fuck her harder."

I sat back. My lunch and appetite were long forgotten.

"Jim, I think you need some help. A therapist to help you sort this out."

"I am already Dave. But have a long way to go. Until then, I have to pay the bills and mine at the apartment. Sandra is ruining me and enjoying it. Once every so often she sends me videotapes of her with men. Not her face, or voice, but I know it's her.

"What happened to my wife Dave? What happened to the sweet woman I married? The mother of our kids? Hell, she has her mother raising them and won't let me near them."

He was crying quietly now staring out the window.

"What have I done Dave?" he asked more himself than me. "What have I done?"

To be honest, I had heard of cuckold spouses ending their marriages, but I never knew of a case like these two. Sandra had not only lost respect for her husband for giving her to others to fuck. She had gone medieval on Jim.

I had to talk to her and get her side. But I stayed with Jim and later went to dinner with him. Trophy wife came along. They asked if I wanted to join them at his place for the evening. But in my mind, I think Jim was still a cuckold and would always be. Trophy wife was now his woman and he wanted to see me have sex with her.

Trophy wife is a beautiful woman that I had sex within the past. Under different circumstances, I might have spent a night with her. But looking at Jim, I think he needed her more. And from her reaction after I declined, she agreed.

It is amazing how a beautiful woman, that could have had anyone she wanted, chose to be with Jim who was damaged and had his issues. She saw something in him that Sandra no longer did apparently. The sad thing is that he did not have children with Trophy wife, he had them with the woman who detested, disrespected, and blamed him for all their problems.

I watched as the two of them left together. Glad that poor Jim had someone to share his misery with. But he was right. He had a long way to go in getting himself and his life back in order.

Back at the hotel, I called Sandra's house, and surprisingly she was there.

"I expected you to call eventually," she said upon hearing me.

No Hi Dave, how are you? Are you OK? Are you better and recovered? Thanks for fighting the war. No. None of that.

Then she told me. Did not ask. She told me to go over there and talk to her. If I was not curious to hear her side, I would have told her to fuck off. But I owed Jim and in a weird way her as well to find out what happened. And more so, my own curiosity was peaked.

In my time being a bull for couples, I was rarely a part of their life other than with encounters. The two or three couples I got to know were secure in their marriages. They were mature people who had come to terms with who they were long before I met them. I had a couple have their issues, and eventually split up, but not to this extent. Not like the couple meltdown Jim and Sandra Knox had.

When I arrived, I could not help but notice the transformation in Sandra. The sweet curious woman I had first met and guided through her first and subsequent hotwife encounters was no longer there.

Sandra had dyed her hair... blond, what else? Had a nose piercing, a belly piercing, a tongue piercing. And to top it all off, Sandra had gotten herself a new set of store-bought tits. Yeah, the full hotwife low rent look.

She also wore revealing clothes one step away from streetwalker and had a hotwife anklet with an ace of spades emblem on it. The sign that she liked black men for sex.

How typical of hotwives I thought. It is like she had a scorecard of hotwife behavior patterns and was checking off each box. Being "blacked" was so typical of many hotwives. And to be honest borderline racist. They saw black men as walking dildos. Rarely knowing the person behind the BBC. The mythical big black dick that is part of the cuckold culture.

These black men had little respect for these women either. It was all about getting some white bitch ass to many of them. Nothing more. Let's face it. Racism goes both ways. Some black guys see fucking a white woman, especially one married to a white man, as a way to belittle white society.

Those two types deserved each other in my view. I had known black bulls who just did it for the money and the sex. Like me, they saw it as fun and did not insult their "clients." Also, I had met enough black men in the service to know that not all were racist and disrespectful. Just like with whites and other races, some in each chose to be racist.

"You disapprove?" she said posing for me provocatively.

At that moment, I wondered what she had done with the Sandra... the Sandy I had first met. Hell, I would have taken the Sandra I had left before I went to Saudi and Iraq. It was "invasion of the body snatchers" all over again. Only this was Sandra Two-point-Hoe.

"What happened to you, Sandra?" I asked.

"Let me guess?" she replied. "You talked to that worthless asshole that passes for my husband and listen to his sniveling. I knew you would. Did you?"

"You seem to be answering your own questions. But yes, I saw him at work and then we talked." I said keeping my cool. "Why don't you tell me your side of it?"

I could not miss the fact their children, normally at their home were nowhere to be seen.

"Where are the kids?" I asked.

"At my mothers," she replied seemingly annoyed at the question. "Where else?"

"I see," I replied. "may I sit?"

I asked because she had not invited me to or offered anything as a simple glass of water. It was that kind of strained atmosphere. She made an I-don'-care face and sat on the kitchen table herself across from me.

"You probably think..." she started to say, but I raised my hand to protest.

Surprisingly, she stopped and let me speak.

"Sandra, pardon me, but I have been away for some time. The war you know. It was in the news. I missed what happened here. So why don't you tell me? I'll just listen."

She looked at me for a few seconds weighing my intentions and then put her suspicions aside enough to talk to me.

"The first month after you were gone seemed fine. "She stopped and pursed her lips. "No. Not really. Before you went away, I always knew that you would come to town and I would get my fix. Yes, I said fix. Are you surprised at that?"

"Explain," I replied then smiled, "if you would."

"Dave, you and I had sex regularly for over a year. I got used to having good sex. It was the best I ever had and never planned on letting you go. I had even told Jim that and he had agreed. Even before you left, once a month was not enough. I would start craving your thick cock in less than two weeks and have to make do with Jim's pathetic dick until you showed up again."

She did not miss my displeasure at her denigrating her husband.

"You seem miffed Dave. Are you upset at my view of Jim?"

"The thought may have crossed my mind," I replied. "But I have a feeling you will tell me why. So please... continue."

"Aren't we polite now?" she scoffed. "You used to boss me and have me call you sir... what a crock that was."

Now it was in the open. The resentment not just for her husband, but for me as well. I nodded in acknowledgment and merely stared back at her with a slight smile.

"You're so fucken smug Dave," she spat looking at me with anger. "You got me hooked and then you were gone. What did you think would happen after you left? Hm?

"That I would just sit there week after week not even knowing when you would return? Or if you would return? That I would settle for Jim again after I had... what you gave me?

She scoffed again as she slapped her hand on the table waiting for a reaction that I refused to give her.

"I had needs, Dave. Having tasted sexual satisfaction that, I had only heard of and dreamed of, now I was supposed to do without? Well, fuck that."

I noticed the repeated explanations as to why, rather than the when and how. Sandra was still dealing internally with what she had done.

"So, get to the point. What happened?"

"I was driving home on Friday afternoon thinking about going home to another boring weekend. While the girls from work were on their way out to the bar. They had asked me if I was interested, but I said no as usual and while I was driving back here, I had a moment of clarity Dave.

"So, I turned around and went right top the bar. I don't remember when I got home that night. But let me tell you, Mr. Dave. I had gotten fucked and enjoyed it. From that night on, I did it again and again when I felt like it."

"Fuck Jim. He gave me away. He gave his wife and mother of his children to other men to fuck. He got what he deserved. He is not just a bad fuck. He is weak and a loser."

"You seem angry at everyone Sandra, why is that?"

"Don't you play passive-aggressive with me Dave," she snapped back. "You and Jim got this ball rolling and are responsible for it. You two turned me into a..."

She stopped then as I waited for her to finish her sentence. But she did not.

"I came in late to this party if you can be honest with yourself Sandra. You and Jim started this by sharing your fantasies with each other and deciding to make them come true. I will remind you, that I went out of my way to inform you both of the pitfalls of this cuckold-hotwife lifestyle.

"Forget Jim for a second Sandra. You and me. We talked about the lifestyle and you losing respect for him. I remember, even after this started, how I warned you again."

She looked angry still, but she let me talk because she knew I was right. I could see it in her eyes.

"I'm sure you remember one of those days you came to the office I use when I am in town? Your husband's office? The one with that big desk. The one you liked me to bend you over and fuck you hard and fast with how did you put it? Oh yes... no preliminaries. Yeah, that's it."

If looks could kill I would be dead at that moment. Forget the Iraqi tanks. She was ready to kill me if she could. But I was not going to let her get away with it.

"If I remember correctly, it had been your idea for you to come to Jim's office and have me fuck you after you sucked my dick. Most times you didn't even let poor Jim watch. And I thought you and he were in it together. Isn't that what you told me more than a few times. Many times.

"Spare me the bullshit Sandra. You were in on this from the start. You and Jim made this happen together. And if you had not picked me to be the first to fuck you, you would have picked someone else."

She looked back at me with anger and maybe regret.

"You were everything I needed," she spat out. "I was your sex toy. A willing one. I would have done anything for you. I DID do everything for you. And I would have done more. You knew that. You knew how much I needed you.

"Did you think after taking me to the place you did sexually I could just... wait?"

"Sandra, I was called back to active duty. There was a war on. Did you miss that part? I had no choice. Did you think the Army would give me a pass because the hotwife I was servicing needed her fix? Are you seriously trying to tell me that all you did to Jim and yourself is my fault? Woman, you need therapy if you actually believe that."

"It's too late for us now, isn't it?" she asked.

"Us? US! What the fuck are you talking about Sandra? You were someone else's wife. Ours was an agreement between the three of us. You are delusional and need help."

The door chime went off as we stared at one another.

"You better go out the back," she said. "I have a date and he is the jealous type."

"Like hell," I replied. "I'm going out the front door."

"Don't you dare," she yelled to my back as I walked toward the door.

I opened it seeing the back of a fit black man looking around toward the street. Behind me, Sandra had stopped yelling. I bet she was holding her breath. Then the man turned around and the two of us stared at each other shocked to the core.

"TC!" I yelled and smiled.

"Loader!" he yelled back. "What's you doing here man?"

We both laughed and hugged that special hug veterans of the same battle reserve for each other. Lots of back-slapping and not giving a shit if people are watching. We even held each other as we pulled back and shook our heads smiling at one another.

"Man, you look good," he said. "They fixed your brain or are you missing a few brain calls?"

"Yeah, well at least I have all my ass in place. You lost some ass skin if I remember. But you got that bubble butt, and plenty left over."

"Fuck you motherfucker!" he said.

"Not if I fuck your sister first!" I replied in a well-known set of insults only our tank crew from Dessert Storm had memorized.

"Shiiit, you got to get in line bro. That hoe has a fuck schedule longer than your mama."

Ok...there are many more lines to the dozens routine we had, but something made us both stop and look at each other with appreciation.

"Good to see you again LT" he said now using my old rank. Short for Lieutenant.

"You can call me Loader as you used to TC" I replied. "I'm a civilian now. They kicked my ass out."

"Mother fuckers! He said. You gave up brain cells for this nation. How much IQ did you drop from that concussion?"

"Fuck you mother fucker!" I replied in feigned indignation. Five points with a margin of error of another five."

"So, you lost ten!" he laughed.

I nodded to him and we hugged again before breaking it up.

"Oh man," he said. "You're the last person I expected to meet here. Is she your wife man?"

It was then we both turned to see Sandra staring at us. We had almost forgotten about her.

"Fuck no man," I replied. "I was her first bull. Before the war and shit. Are you tapping that these days?"

"Yeah, yeah," TC replied as if he was embarrassed. "You know how it is."

We giggled to one another. We now had something else in common.

"Have you had dinner yet?" he asked.

"Yeah, I did," I replied. "I don't want to intrude on your date."

"Date!" he said incredulously. "This ain't no mother fucken date. Its booty call."

He and I turned to look at Sandra who looked ready to kill someone.

"Let's go for a drink man," I suggested. "I don't think that booty is calling you tonight."

"Fuck you both," Sandra said finally.

"Maaaan," T.C said shaking his head at her. "That shit is played out. I tapped every hole she's got."

"Me too!" I replied as she slammed the door on us.

Neither one of us cared. She was in our rearview mirror for the rest of our lives.

***

Epilogue

TC and I had that drink and reminisced for hours at the bar. We danced with a couple of women and took them to my hotel room for some fun in switching partners. The two women did not mind and neither did we. After you share one woman, the second and third are easy to.

I managed to get him a job in our company, but he had to relocate to our Houston branch. He is the manufacturing floor manager these days and still calls me. The first word out of his mouth is:

"You got that Sabot loaded motherfucker?"

"That's what your wife asked me to do," I usually reply if I am alone in my office.

"Well, if your wife tires of that white dick, call me and I'll give her something to remember me by."

"What do you got to trade motherfucker?"

"Good to hear from you again Dave," he usually says. "Have I ever thanked you for getting me this job?"

"I got them to open the door for a fellow veteran, TC" I reply. "You earned all your promotions."

"Shiiiit... and I thought it was affirmative action," he replies.

"Fuck you," I reply. "I'm calling HR on your fat ass."

And that is how it goes with him. He and Clarice have three children. One in the Naval Academy. TC is trying to get over having to cheer for Navy each year. But he supports his son. Their two daughters are a nurse and a lawyer. Clarice tells me that on holidays they argue over politics and who will win the Super Ball. I am happy for them.

***

I was in an industry convention five years after I came back from the war and ran into Trophy wife. Yes, the same Louise Harper.

Louise filled me in on the happenings of the Knox family. Jim left our company and Louise to move to Seattle for a new job. I knew that, but not that they had broken up.

"That idiot and his whore of a wife got back together again," she told me shaking her head. "She moved to Seattle with him."

"At least the kids have both their parents," I added.

"They have none. They left the kids with her mother."

"What!" I asked in shock.

"Yeah baby," she said. "This way they can fuck around on each other. Jim only took her back if they had an open marriage. How long do you think THAT will last?"

"What a mess," I said a bit saddened at their news.

"Don't worry Dave," she said. "Nothing you did was your fault. It was all their mess. When you were around, they kept it together, but as soon as you went to war, they self-destructed. If you had not been their first, they would have fallen apart sooner. You warned them and tried to keep them in line. But they just could not keep their responsibilities above their wants. You have to know that, right?"

"I guess," I said. "I just feel sorry for their kids."

"Their grandma is a good woman. Her second husband never had kids and is enjoying the hell out of raising the Knox children. They even call him daddy."

"What are you doing these days Louise?" I asked.

"Working PR for one of your competitors Dave. But if your company were to offer me five Grand more a year, I would switch over in a heartbeat."

She is now head of our corporate marketing. Married with two kids of her own.

I never saw Jim and Sandra again. I heard a few years ago that they are still out west but broke up for good right after 9/11. I guess it was in the cards for them. There was a time I thought I was responsible for the collapse of their marriage. But as Louise said, it was all their mess and their choices.

You see, consenting cuckolding as both Jim and Sandra agreed to, is not cheating. It is the rewriting of marital vows. Jim and Sandra together... CHOSE to play this dangerous game. She did not sneak around to get laid behind his back. I did not convince or seduce her to it. No one tricked them with an elaborate ruse as you read in some Literotica stories. THEY decided to bring another man in their life THEMSELVES.

And I was never intended to stay their bull forever. Sooner or later, I was going to move on and have my own life. They both knew that. But both of them got caught up in the excitement of the lifestyle and stopped thinking about their decisions and how they affected their family.

It was in my cards that they were my last cuckold/hotwife couple.

She may have been one of the best lovers in my life. But I never loved her. She was not mine to love. I fell in love with my first cuckold wife when I was younger, and it was a disaster for me in the end. From then one, I stopped thinking of these women as possible mates or prospects. They were but clients.
A bull has only one role in the end. To be that human dildo for these people. Nothing more. I tried to be their mentor and guide as well as her lover. But I couldn't be there for them forever. Sooner or later they had to do it on their own. And unlike people in the lifestyle that find a way to make it work, Jim and Sandra self-destructed.

I do not miss the hotwife culture. Except for one thing once in a while.

The look on the face of another man's wife... in rapture. Priceless.

***

After I returned from the war and Atlanta, I reconnected with the woman who would become my wife and mother of my children. We live a very vanilla life. I wanted children and my wife Elsie wanted a normal life for them. And us.

I got up one day, and all my past was just a memory. I looked toward my future and raised a family. Our marriage is not perfect. We have our ups and downs. But it's good and has lasted decades. Our kids are grown productive young adults and we keep surviving together. I am a lucky man.

***********************************

I hope you enjoyed this short story. I know that some of you were "pushed past your comfort zone" to read it. It's a topic that is not dear to the Loving Wives community. The scoring is clear on the type of readers that frequent LW. Burn the bitch stories get the high 4s and cuckold stories struggle to get over a 2. I don't run Literotica, but if I did the two types of stories would have different pages. One for cheating wives and one for hotwives, vixens, and the like. They truly are two separate genres.

I have to say something about the cuckold lifestyle. I was part of it, yet I still don't understand many aspects of it.

I get the bull part. Sex with a willing woman. Husband approved sex with someone else's wife. And if you are an exhibitionist, the opportunity to have sex in front of an audience of one. Having done it, I read some of these LW stories and judge them from the bull point of view. A few are good. Most focus on the man or the wife and the bull is... the human dildo and usually a total asshole.

I never got off on humiliating people. I guess it's how I was raised and who I am. Many thanks to my mentors in life and my parents.

I get the wife's motivation. As Sandra said, it is like hitting the married woman lottery. Sex on the side and the husband approves it. With anonymity, she has most of the fun.

Not all women, given the opportunity, would be a hotwife. My own wife's reaction was two-fold when I told her of this story. One. "I am not doing that shit!" and two. "What the fuck is wrong with these people?"

But the husband? The cuckold? And let's be clear here, these men are true cuckolds as they do this voluntarily. This is not the wife cheating and the husband finding out. In these cases, the husbands find the topic erotic and go out of their way to convince their wife to participate and make the fantasy come true.

Contrary to the sentiments of most LW readers, I don't condemn these men as many do. They have a sexual proclivity that is different than other men. Having played the part of the bull, I am the last to bash cuckolds. But this proclivity, this kink, or compulsion has its dangers. Dangers that will alter a marriage forever and maybe even kill it.

And neither do I condone it. I would never sit still and watch another man humiliate me by screwing my wife in front of me or with my knowledge and approval. My wife and I both know that the only way we are doing anyone else is by cheating. And in lying, betraying, and disrespecting each other, the love would be gone and the marriage over.

All I can say to you is this. If you are interested in this lifestyle for a real-life experience, think, think, think, and think again. Because once you see your wife fucked by another man, she can never be unfucked.

********