The excitement, potential and mystery of a first date is unique. If Bunni is ready to make time on our calendar to leave her family for the evening and meet someone, it means that not only does she find him physically stimulating but mentally intriguing as well. They will have already invested time in establishing a connection through questions, photos, flirting and even some sexting. However no amount of virtual communication can replace the chemistry that happens when in proximity to another person. Attraction is much more complex than a photo or a text can encompass. It’s the way their eye contact holds. It’s how the unique frequency of his voice reverberates in her pulse. It’s a conversation with gravitational weight that pulls you to lean in. Scents that you may not even be conscious of light up your head with a desire to go further and be closer. It’s a spark that under the right conditions can ignite so much more.
Every time I walk my wife out to her car, kiss her as she gets in and watch her drive away to meet someone new, the anticipation sets in for her to get home so I can find out if she felt that spark. My phone stays close by with the screen and volume up. I don’t sit and stare at it all evening but if an update comes in, I want time to heart it or respond before Bunni’s phone goes back in her purse. When an hour or two (or three) passes by in silence, I take that as a sign that the two of them are so engrossed in each other that there’s simply no opportunity to check in with me. That’s exactly the kind of chemistry that I want for my wife when she’s out on a date. For those few hours, I don’t want her to feel like just my wife but become so enchanted with him that she allows herself to let go and enjoy her sexuality as a cuckoldress.
Our clock struck ten, then eleven, then midnight, and I felt myself becoming restless with exhaustion and eagerness. It was only after the first moments of the new morning had passed that my wife relieved my nerves and said she was finally on her way home. I turned down our room so it was perfectly ready for when she came in – space clean, sheets open, lights dimmed – and settled into bed to wait for her. She came in at 12:30 – five hours after she had left – and I felt like a puppy eager to greet their owner at the door. The look on Bunni’s face was everything I needed to hear. She was giddy and beaming from ear to ear as she launched into telling me all about their evening together. Hearing about their laughs and flirting and interests and sexual chemistry made my cuck heart swell. Their passion was so strong by the end of the evening that they re-parked in a dark spot of the lot. He held my bride in his arms, reassuring her how much she would be cared for and how much her husband wanted this. He was right. Between passionate kisses their sparks started to fly and their mouths wandered: his, to her breast and hers, to his cock.
In that moment of revelation, I needed to kiss her. As soon as we started making out with each other, a cocktail of strange and familiar sensations flooded my head. The sweetness of her hyper-aroused breath mixed with the undeniable taste of his dick on her lips sent me into a frenzy of lust for her. The post-date cuckoldress kiss is one of the most intensely erotic feelings I’ve ever experienced. We savored each other and the hormones surging through our bodies and that was all the reconnection our exhausted selves could handle. At 1:30AM we both collapsed next to each other, happy.
The next evening, Bunni sent me the best kind of sext you can receive as a cuck. We opened it while snuggled in bed together and for the first time I got to see and hear her having sex with someone else: nineteen seconds of my wife giving him her mouth. His pants were unbuttoned, freeing his cock – long, thick and velvety chocolate brown – to contrast starkly against her face. His girth filled her manicured, ringed fingers as she steadied him into her mouth. I watched the lips that kiss me goodnight every evening sliding up, down, and up again, culminating in a tender, smacking kiss on the tip of his penis. However what made me harder than anything was the way she closed her eyes while she moaned through tender flicks of her tongue on his shaft, as his groans in the background echoed. I saw a contentment, reverence and lust in her that I had never witnessed between my legs in our nine years of marriage. “It’s just different with him,” she grinned.
The next morning Bunni made a confession. “I would have fucked him that night if we had a room.” Her desire for him had been stoked and it would not be sated until she saw him again. He reciprocated; “The next time I see you, it needs to be in a hotel room. I want all of you.” With that, they put my first full cuckolding on the calendar on the soonest possible date, a full week away. “At least you have your husband,” he quipped on one of their many calls with each other. “Is he an okay substitute for my cock?” Her voice lacked a shred of hesitation: “No.” I shot her a look of mock protest. “Oh honey, we both know you have a Tiny. As hard as it tries, it can only get so big.” In fact, so much so that she saw fit to restrict her pussy from me until her evening with him.
On the night before, Bunni was out on a date and I was home alone drinking wine on a video call with some friends. Around 10:00 PM, the group teased me about the time. I hadn’t heard from my wife in hours, which I was feeling good about. Then I saw a text come in on my phone and my eyes darted to read it. It wasn’t Bunni; the preview showed his name instead. I excused myself into the kitchen to refill my wine glass and in the quiet of our dark house, audibly heard my heart thumping in my chest while I read his message to me. As I settled back into bed, our group pressed me to read it. I required more wine and with my pulse still at a breakneck pace and breath shortened, I choked out the message:
This time tomorrow your wife will be with me. Enjoying my touch, my kisses and being sluttier with me than she has ever been with you. She’ll be enjoying my thick black cock and her pussy will never be the same again. I’ll be sure to send her back to you happier than you’ve ever made her in bed. Be sure to thank me on Saturday.
Continued in The Fire.
Cover photo by Jamie Street on Unsplash.