How my husband became a cuck - Sex Stories

How my husband became a cuck

... and my husband encouraging me to tease men. And life was exactly that in my junior year of college. Then during the spring break, I was put into a situation that changed my life.

Jeremy got a gig doing the sound systems at a beach bar and they offered him cash and a bedroom in this beach house that was right there on the beach. I mean it was like the most fantastic thing ever. So, we packed up and went to Daytona Beach for spring break.

That’s where it all started. The beach house that we got was amazing, but we shared it with this girl, Jessica, who was there on spring break from college and another couple, Rita and Ted. It was great. Jeremy would go to work in the afternoon and during the day, we would go to the beach, smoke weed, and I got my fill of men ogling me in my short shorts and bikini's. Jeremy liked it too. Sometimes, he got so aroused when I teased the men on the beach and in the bars that he railed me so furiously that he actually grunted, and his face got all twisted up and sweaty when we were doing it and it seemed like he came a lot more.

It wasn’t all champagne and roses. Rita, one of the housemates, didn’t like the way I dressed because Ted, her old man, always looked at me like he was about to ravage me. I didn’t discourage him either. In fact, I got into the habit of letting my nipples peek out of my bikini. Sometimes, my pussy would be exposed when my bottoms got twisted, and I always pinched my nipples stiff whenever they were home, so me ...

... walking around the house was basically a visit to the strip club for the guy.

Jessica thought it was funny, and one day we were smoking a bowl together and she said, “Your boyfriend really gets off when you tease guys. Is that his thing?”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I put the little pipe to my lips and took a big rip off it, holding in my hit as I handed it back to her wordlessly.

She continued. “He doesn’t look at me or Rita. He’s like, checking out Ted checking you out.”, she said before taking a hit off the pipe and handing it back to me.

I gave her my best, I know; right look, and instead of hitting the pipe, I let what she had just said sink in. “Jeremy doesn’t check out other girls?”, I asked her. I took a small drag off the pipe and didn’t hold it in. Instead, I exhaled, waving away the smoke. “What about at the clubs or on the beach? Did you notice it out there too, or is it just in here with you guys?”

She looked away embarrassed. “Last night at the club he was practically rubbing one out watching guys hit on you. I mean, like, I ducked into his sound booth, and I was right there in my bikini up against him and I was high as fuck and horny and he practically forgot I was there. I think he might be a creeper-peeper.”

“A creeper-peeper?” I asked.

“You know. A guy who can’t get it up unless he watches someone else. Has it always been like this for you?”

“No.” I said. “In fact, when we first started dating, he didn’t want me to be so ...