A Cuckold's Pleasure - Her Love - Sex Stories

A Cuckold's Pleasure - Her Love

... and we played and had fun making love. We'd gained something I couldn't explain, but I loved it.

It was several weeks later, with some misgivings, that I talked to her about doing it again. I was trying to remember all the emotions I’d had—the positive ones and the painful ones. I hadn't actually seen it happen. The question I kept asking myself was how different it would be if I saw it happen. Would seeing someone else make love to Helen be better, easier, or harder.?

Talking about a second lover.

I finally started talking to Helen about it. How did it feel, and did she regret doing it? “Your time with Frank in Santa Barbara—I want to talk about it. In Santa Barbara, you said it was exciting, and for a while, you talked about it a lot, but when we got home, you quit. Why?"

It took a few tries before she answered. “That happened on vacation; bringing it home, other men here, was just different, and it feels more dangerous. It was exciting, but maybe too exciting, Bill. I might not be able to stop.”

"If I continued to want you to?" I said, “Would that change your mind?” I paused and then said, “I’m not sure, but I didn’t get to watch it happen, and I keep thinking I want to.”

"God, Bill, you don’t. You just don’t.” Helen answered. “It would be a mistake."

I wasn’t about to leave it there, and I finally got her to answer why it would be a mistake.

“Bill, it was when we got home that I realized how different it is when I’m making love with you and being ...

... fucked, just fucked. I don’t want to risk our love by being fucked by someone else.”

I kept persisting, insisting that she tell me. When she did, it was a shock.

“If you insist, you want to know. Like I’ve said, it’s different.” Her eyes were tearing before she continued saying, “When I was with Frank, I was a different woman. When we were alone in our room, I became wild, and I wanted him to do all kinds of things to me. Yes, he played with my tits, but he wouldn’t mark me like I wanted because he knew I’d regret it when I got home to my husband. I asked him to fuck my cunt, my cunt. You know how I hate that word, but for him, I wanted a cunt. I wanted one so he could fuck it. I even let him try to fuck my ass—not successfully, by the way.”

She stopped talking because she was crying. When she could continue, she said, “Bill, by the time I was home … the excitement had faded and the shame had taken over.”

I stared at her.God, Bill, do you want to risk this? Do I want to see Helen like that?

Instead, I asked her, “Do you want to experience that again? Do you want to feel that again? If you don’t do it with me knowing it and seeing it, would you go after it again?”

The answers I want are no, no, and no! What are Helen’s answers?

She looked at me with tears in her eyes and said, “I don’t know. Sometimes yes and sometimes no. I’m sorry, Bill, but sometimes it’s yes to all three. I actually thought about it once.”

I sat there, trying to comprehend what she’d ...