Passing the Torch

FYI, this story contains cuckoldry, both non-consensual and consensual. You know the drill, if this is not your thing, save yourself the aggravation. As always, votes and constructive comments are greatly appreciated.

I stood in the doorway to the master bedroom, leaning against the door jamb. My bags were still in the car downstairs; I had wanted to come up and surprise Kate with the fact I was able to shave three days off my business trip.

I was the one surprised.

I watched, with a combination of anger, curiosity, and fascination as a younger man I did not know slid his erection repeatedly into my wife, in the missionary position on our king-size bed. Yes, to answer the obligatory question, his dick was significantly larger than mine. And no, I don't have a SPH dick, I'm about average.

Looking at her plump nether lips being spread by his girth, it occurred to me that I had planned to be laying between her thighs by now. Either waking her or greeting her by sucking those lips into my mouth and working my way to her center to lash at her clit.

I had imagined her making the moans and mewling sounds she was making now courtesy of his phallus... but at the tip of my tongue. Then her moans increased in tempo as she approached orgasm, and she spoke, "Oh, gawd... OH DAVID... YES..."

I had planned on making her cry out my name by now... Sam. At least I knew his name now.

She screamed and dug her fingernails into his biceps as she came hard. I waited to see if she was going to let him jizz inside her... I could already tell he did not wear a condom.

He didn't. Not because she told him to pull out, but because he just kept going, prying more ecstasy from her without finishing himself. Damn. Even in my younger days, I could not have done that. She always took me with her.

I was mad at myself. I had a fucking hard on watching myself being cuckolded. I had no temptation to pull it out and rub one out. But the fact I was aroused was disturbing.

Apparently, they were going to be awhile. So, I quietly backed out of the doorway and made my way downstairs. I poured myself a glass of whiskey. We had a fairly large house, an expansive living room with multiple seating areas. I went to the far corner and sat in a comfy leather chair which faced the room. I left the lights out, sipped my drink, and waited.

I had no idea how long I would wait; whether my wife would have her lover spend the night and make him breakfast, or if he was supposed to go home. I sat quietly with my thoughts, considering my options and what I would do.

While I did so, I could not help but listen to them upstairs. His stamina was impressive. I listened to her gasping, moaning and cumming several times. I could tell they were shifting positions. It was a good long time before I heard him bellow and knew he was filling my wife with his seed. No, she didn't shout out "fill me up" or cum in me" like in porn stories or videos. But there was no cessation of movement and her cries continued... it was obvious they were still en coitus as he came.

Then things did fall silent. I could hear muffled conversation. Sweet nothings. Eventually I heard them coming down the stairs.

When they came into view, he was fully dressed, and she was still buck naked. Damnit, she had a fine body. An hourglass shape, nice butt and D-cup breasts that screamed for attention.

She walked with him to the front door. She had to stand on her tippy toes to kiss him goodbye. She spoke softly, "That was wonderful, David, thank you. I'm a lucky girl."

His baritone replied, "I'm the lucky one. Me and your hubby."

They chortled together knowingly, then he exited the door. Then the final arrow. She called out, "I love you!"

"I love you too, baby."

Then she closed the door and rested against it, enjoying the afterglow.

Now that we were alone, I broke the silence, "Honey, I'm home."

She turned white as a ghost. I think she almost shit herself.

She turned and moved away from the door, towards me but only by a couple of steps. I could see her plainly. But it occurred to me, she could not see me sitting in the dark, in my favorite chair where I liked to read. She did not know whether I was holding my second glass of Johnnie Walker Black, or one of my pistols. It must have been terrifying for her.

She stammered, "Sam! He... he just stopped by... he... we didn't..."

I let her grasp at straws for a few seconds more before I spoke calmly, leaving any emotion out of my voice, "At one in the morning? I have been home for two hours, Katie. I even came upstairs intending to surprise you with a tongue-lashing. Surprise."

As for her claim that "we didn't" I had already told her I had witnessed it. As if that were not enough evidence, I continued, "Look at your legs, woman."

Kate glanced down. Rivulets of semen ran down her thighs from her well used womanhood. She muttered, "Fuck."

Still monotone, "Fuck indeed. Come and sit with your husband, Katie."

There was another high-backed red leather chair catty corner to mine. She again stammered, "I, uh, should go clean up first."

I was still calm, which probably frightened her more than if I had been out of control. "You were not concerned about that two minutes ago. Sit your sexy ass down, Katie. You can clean the pecker tracks off of the chair later. We need to talk. You owe me that modicum of respect."

"I do respect you!" But she walked hesitantly over and sat gingerly.

My lack of response signaled what I thought of her claim of respect.

Now that she was sitting within two feet of me, there was enough light for her to see me and my deadpan expression. And for me to see her well, also. She was crying now, her tears streaking her face with her mascara. Her bountiful chest was heaving, which only accentuated the splotches from her recent arousal and intense sexual activity. The freckles which covered her breasts only highlighted her sensuality. There were two bite marks on them, which obviously she had hoped would heal before I got home.

I hoped the lighting was not enough for her to see my erection tenting my trousers. It was frustrating enough that her latent sensuality and the sex acts I had witnessed caused that reaction in me, without her thinking it somehow gave her leave for having cuckolded me. I knew women enough to know if she saw that weakness, she would attempt to exploit it, rather than excuse it.

I had been sipping my Johnnie Walker, enjoying it, but not wanting to be intoxicated for this discussion.

"How long?" I asked matter-of-factly, wanting to keep this low key.

"Not... not long..."

I simply stared at her wordlessly.

"Six months..."

"Who is he?"

She looked puzzled, "What do you mean?"

"What does he do for a living? How did you meet? Is he married? Does he have kids? Is he good to you, or are you just a piece of ass?"

Kate was a little pissed now. She would have been angrier and more offended if she were not so obviously in the wrong. "Why are you asking me THAT instead of why or is he better in bed or something?? No he is not married, what kind of a bitch do you think I am?"

I fixed her with a sardonic expression, making her wince at the realization of how ridiculous her last question had been.

"We will get to that. To answer your question, I've been sitting here for two hours listening; it is obvious he fucks you better than I do. As far as what kind of woman you are, you are an adultress. Now, please answer my questions."

It took a few moments for Kate to collect herself and respond. Over nearly half an hour, she explained that David was an engineer and made good money. They had met at a mutual friend's house during one of my many business trips. She hastened to say she did not resent the business trips... she understood it was necessary for us to live the way we did. One thing had led to another and "it just happened..."

I rolled my eyes at this common simplification of adultery. "He just tripped and his dick fell into your twat, huh?"

She shut down for a minute, then realized I was right. "We got along, and... it's not your fault... but I had time on my hands and we grew close. He came on to me one night, and I didn't say no."

"DO you love him?"

She knew she had said so. "I... Not like I love you, but I guess so."

She grew uncomfortable with the long pause. Finally, I continued, "DO you love me? Do you want a divorce?"

"No! Please! No, please!" She was crying again. "Of course I love you!"

Of course? I gave her no reassurance, moving on to my next query, "How do I know you are not knocked up? Were you going to let me raise someone else's kid? It was obvious he was riding you bareback."

It was apparent my crass references to their activity were offending her. I did not care.

"I have stayed on the pill... and he has a vasectomy. He also is checked and clean, too, if you're worried about that."

I shifted directions so quickly, it made her gasp, "I need to meet him. You need to arrange a meeting between the three of us so I can have a conversation with him. All I've seen so far is his ass pounding into my wife and my wife professing her love for him."

She raised her voice, "NoOo! What the hell?!"

I simply fixed her with a disapproving expression.

She lowered her voice. "He won't want to meet with you... he knows your background... he'll think you're gonna kill him. You're... you're not gonna kill him, right?"

I remained monotone. "He obviously is not too worried about me, or he would not be fucking my wife. If I wanted to kill him, he'd be dead already."

She lowered her eyes, "Okay, I'll try."

As matter-of-factly as if ordering dinner, "You had best do more than try. We either meet, or we can start dividing assets."

Her eyes widened.

"Now, you can tell me why."

For the next half hour or so, I let her talk, reciting to me the trite, predictable "reasons" she had gone outside our marriage. I listened patiently, letting her get it off her chest (which I watched moving despite myself) as much as anything. From life experience, I already knew why people cheat, other than those who are just bad people at their core. I also understood why, in regard to our particular relationship, she "let" it happen.

I suppose this is a good point in the story to converse with you, reader, about why I did not flip out and why I am stoic about the situation. So, while Katie rambles on, I'll tell you.

When we met and fell in love, we had a significant age difference, nearly twenty years. Kate insisted that "age is just a number." Being in love, having found a woman who shared many of my interests, who was "hotter than a two-dollar pistol" I was easy to convince.

Still, I had concerns; age is just a number unless you are very young, where it can be criminal, or if you are older, where one partner enjoys youth while the other does not. I was concerned about what Kate would be left with when I became elderly. No, I am not there yet, but time marches on.

In the intervening years, we have done a lot of living together. Travel, jobs, fantastic sex, and for me, a near fatal health scare. Through it all, Katie was loyal and always by my side without complaint. So, you may see where I am going here. Despite current events, Katie is not some vapid, manipulative bitch. She has proven to have a good heart, which has been centered on me. She has simply gone from a wife with a heart of gold to a whore with a heart of gold, so to speak.

I had long been concerned about what would become of her when the inevitable happens. The older she is when I take the ol' dirt nap, the more difficult it would be for her to find someone else. I hated the thought of her living a significant part of her life alone, and we have no kids.

So, I was not as upset about her finding someone different, as I was about her not telling me. I had often thought about suggesting it.

I know this sounds nuts to some, but your views change as you age.

As Katie began apologizing for me having to hear them "making love" it apparently aroused her, thinking about what they had done. Despite herself, her body responded. I watched as those sexy, pencil eraser sized nipples became erect. That and those freckled breasts, which always did it for me, had an effect on me.

Suddenly, Katie glanced down, my growing erection having caught her eye. She apparently decided to test a theory. "I know you had to have noticed... David is hung like a horse. But I want you to know... little Sam makes me cum too... and David does not eat me out nearly as good as you..."

I was controlling my demeanor, but I could not control my manhood. It flexed and throbbed in my pants, very obvious since she was watching for it.

Her eyes lit up, "OMG... you're mad but watching us turned you on, didn't it?"

I remained deadpan, "He has a mind of his own. It does not matter."

Wordlessly, she moved to her knees before me. Without asking, she unbuttoned my trousers and unzipped them. She freed my phallus from my boxers and lightly traced its outline with her fingers.

I wanted to stop her; to tell her I did not want her touching me with the hands and mouth that she had used on someone else just a few minutes ago. But I found myself unable to act as I felt that familiar tongue and mouth descend onto my manhood.

She took her time, swirling her tongue around my shaft and head, closing her lips around me and pistoning up and down. She is an expert fellatrix. She could have finished me in a moment, but she apparently wanted to savor me.

It took her talents to make me last. I had been turned on... on the edge for hours. Add to that the images replaying through my mind of that huge dick plunging into her, the sounds of her cries, and the knowledge that another man's nut was seeping out of my wife's body even as she blew me.

She knew. She did not have the confidence that she could keep me, but from our previous sex play and fantasies, she knew. She took me fully down her throat and swallowed repeatedly. When my stoicism cracked enough for me to moan with pleasure, she lifted up and looked up into my eyes. "That is something else you and I have that David never got... he is too big for me to deep throat him..."

She had to know that was a double-edged comment. She only deep throated her husband, because her lover was too big.

She dove back down onto me, took me down her throat again, then began plunging up and down my shaft rapidly. I groaned, reflexively lifted my butt up out of the chair, and fired rope after rope of my frustration down her throat.

She mewled and swallowed repeatedly, milking every bit she could out of me while gently massaging my balls. I continued to groan with pleasure.

When I softened, I tried to return to my hardened demeanor. She sensed it, and laying her head on my thigh, whispered, "I'm sorry, daddy."

"Don't play cute. We have a lot to work out. I appreciate what you just did, but it doesn't change anything."

She looked up at me with those big, doe eyes, "Will you at least cuddle me in our bed after I clean up?"

I was not hateful. I was not kind, either. "Your bed."

She teared up, "What?"

"It stopped being our bed when you unilaterally brought someone else into it. If you want me in YOUR bed tonight, okay. But don't pretend it is ours."

The next week was awkward to say the least. Katie spent any time we had together attempting to repair the connection and closeness we had lost. I steadfastly resisted... politely. It was not that I was not open to the possibility, but I was not ready. There were too many loose ends, and I did not know how long it would be, if ever, before we laughed together or shared inside jokes and emotions.

She apparently was having some difficulty convincing her lover to meet with me. First, she had to inform him that I knew. I did not sympathize, but I understood... she had placed herself between two males, and pretty much alpha males at that. When he finally agreed to meet, he sent her to say it had to be at a local restaurant, somewhere public.

"No. Here."

She went back to him. He suggested a local park.

I simply shook my head in the negative.

Finally, he stopped trying to set terms and establish dominance (at least in that regard) and agreed. Friday evening, he was at our door ringing the doorbell.

Katie and I were in the living room. She looked to me.

"He's your boyfriend, you can let him in."

When she opened the door, I could tell they were both at a loss as to what to do. He wanted to lean in to kiss her out of habit, she pulled back. Not because she did not want to, but out of respect for me. A little late for that, but I said nothing.

I had moved back to my reading chair, holding my glass of whiskey. Katie escorted him to me, and I indicated for him to sit. She stood awkwardly, as there were only two chairs. She finally asked whether she should offer "our guest" a drink.

"If you would like. Then we will need a few minutes alone."

She did not like that but knew not to argue. I noted that she did not need to ask him what he preferred to drink, pouring him some rum. After giving it to him, she walked slowly upstairs. I figured she was standing on the landing, trying to hear. So, I spoke in a low monotone.

Even though I had already queried her about the basics, I had him tell me about himself; what he did for a living, background, hobbies, etc. He did not exactly relax, but he became more conversational.

Then I just tossed it out, still matter-of-factly, "What are your intentions with my wife?"

"I'm not sure what you mean. What do you want me to say?"

I leaned forward, "Do you love her or is she a piece of ass? I want you to tell me the truth with no BS."

He was a big man. Bigger, younger, more muscular. I guess he thought I was trying to intimidate him. Maybe I was. Apparently, I did. His voice quivered, "I'm not afraid of you..."

I rolled my eyes involuntarily, "Nor am I afraid of you. Now that we've got that out of the way, answer the question."

He took a moment, evidently trying to gauge my intent. Finally, he sat back, seemingly resigned. "I honestly do love her. If she were not married to you, I would ask her to marry me."

I asked him a few more questions along the same lines. Finally, I asked him to wait on the patio while I spoke to Katie. Then I raised my voice slightly, "You can come down now."

Sure enough, she had been trying to listen. She heard me and walked down the stairs. I motioned for her to sit where he had been.

I waited a moment, collecting my thoughts. "David tells me he loves you. That he would marry you if he could. What about you?"

She stared down at her lap momentarily. "I... I do love him on some level but not like I love you. I do not want to lose you."

Still stoic, "What if you did not have to choose?"

To say she looked shocked was an understatement. "WTF do you mean?"

"Do you remember when we got married and I was worried about our age difference? What would happen to you when I got old?"

Her voice was barely audible, "Yes."

"This situation solves that problem. I would have preferred if you had been honest with me and not cheated on me. I don't know if the trust will EVER be restored. But had you not done this, I may have suggested a lover for you."

She looked dumbstruck.

"You are in your prime. I love you and want you to enjoy that. If he is willing to share your attentions and wait his turn to marry you, ya'll can stop sneaking around behind my back."

There was a very long silence. "And what did David say about that?"

"That is for you to find out, if you want to. It was not going to be two guys deciding what happens to the little woman. If you want this, go talk to him and let me know what you decide."

"What about you and me?"

I did not soften my tone, "You keep your bedroom, since it is not really mine anymore. I'll take the loft suite upstairs. You pick who you want to sleep with at any given time. Otherwise, we stay the same. Maybe someday I'll trust you again."