From Housewife to Cuckoldress Read online

  From Housewife to Cuckoldress:

  How I Took Sexual Control of a Marriage in Crisis

  Alex Hathaway

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  Published by Fanny Press

  PO Box 70515

  Seattle, WA 98127

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Cover design by Sabrina Sun

  Contact: [email protected]

  Copyright © 2011 by Alex Hathaway

  ISBN: 978-1-60381-490-4 (Paper)

  ISBN: 978-1-60381-492-8 (ePub)

  Produced in the United States of America

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  Chapter 1: The Turning Point

  My relationship with my husband is going through a metamorphosis. Over a decade I have gone from being in awe of him, to being his sexual peer, to something else altogether. Something I don’t fully understand. Something that is threatening to unravel us.

  The turning point happened two years ago. Our eleven year old daughter is a gifted mathematician. She completed her high school curriculum by the time she was twelve. Sending her to a special math and science boarding school seemed like the best thing. My husband Dan and I missed her almost as much as she missed us, but a month into her new schooling, it was clear: we had made the right decision. Her phone calls became less frequent, and when Katherine did call, her voice carried the excitement kids get when they see the possibilities in front of them.

  I think that, secretly, Dan and I both thought we’d fill our empty house with the kind of marathon sex sessions we hadn’t had since Kathy was born. In recent years, our sex life has dwindled. I won’t deny it’s bothered me, but in every other way, our family makes sense. Bad thoughts were always filed away until the day they could no longer be ignored. Only problem: that day was now.

  Our sex after Kathy left wasn’t all that great. At first, I wrote it off to us being out of practice, but our rhythm was wrong. There was still love in our love making, but we weren’t at risk of electrocution from the sparks.

  One night when Dan and I were having sex, I found myself drifting off as Dan thrust into me. I can’t remember what I was thinking about—groceries I shouldn’t forget or some other mundanity. Then I snapped back, realizing he was about to come, pounding me harder. It felt good, but in kind of an observational, abstract way. “God, you selfish bitch!” flashed through my mind as he was trying to please me. That was when I heard a new voice in my head, a voice that was going to change a lot of things between us. He’s having trouble pleasing you … and he knows it! the voice said quietly, diabolically. I stared intently into his face, realizing instantly it was true.

  In the coming days, we kept having sex, but when I was honest with myself, I had to admit it was a pretty flat experience. Sometimes Dan would lick me to orgasm. I would come hard enough to fall asleep, but not hard enough to remember it in the morning. I’ve been told that you should always be honest when there is a block between your spouse and the sex you are having, but I kept quiet on this one, and so did he. Still, I chewed on that little voice in the back of my head … he’s having trouble pleasing you … and he knows it. There was something cocky about it, something mean and nasty, something truthful. The best orgasm of that whole fall came with me masturbating to a rush of images, with that one thought repeating itself.

  Chapter 2: Dinner Party

  We probably would have gone on that way indefinitely, neither wanting to grapple with the implications, but life can take new turns. At the time, I was part of a massage therapy group. Massage was something I did before going to back to school to get my law degree. I liked to stay up on the techniques, and I enjoyed the women in the group. That fall, my friend Cheryl moved back and joined the group. Cheryl was a freewheeling woman, the kind you would never expect to settle down, the kind who would have been happier in a free love era long past. I was always fascinated with her lanky, chiseled body. She exercised a bit obsessively, but seeing her stomach muscles ripple through her leotard was pretty hot.

  Cheryl never figured out much of a career path; moving around the country with a massage table—and no license—was about as far as she took it. But she knew her way around men, and unlike for some women, thirty-five was not an age that posed much difficulty for her. A while back, Cheryl had shacked up with a new guy. I didn’t know much about him, except that he relocated to supervise the rollout of some cellular networks. I assumed when she talked about her new guy—Eddie— that he was rich and willing to fund her funky lifestyle. I pictured a flabby, overweight businessman who spent his way into women like Cheryl. When Cheryl invited us to a dinner party at Eddie’s place, I agreed, mostly out of curiosity. Plus, Dan always had a thing for Cheryl; he wouldn’t object to an evening in her company.

  Dan had to run back to the car to get my jacket, so when I knocked, I was standing there by myself, a bit shivery in the October air, when Eddie opened the door. I gasped audibly when I saw him. If you’ve seen that show Mad Men, and you can conjure up the image of Don Draper, that’s not too far off from what I saw before me. I soon found out Eddie was a tri-athlete who worked only half-time. He spent the rest of his time training, and he looked the part. Six foot three or so, 220 pounds, and ridiculously arrogant. While I stood in the doorway waiting for Dan to catch up, Eddie’s eyes undressed me with impunity, making me feel like he had already cheated on Cheryl. I fought the urge to slap Eddie as we made the introductions.

  We went inside, and dinner began. As the four thirty-something couples at the table bantered on about work and politics and babysitters, I felt on firmer ground. Eddie had an irritating way of expressing his opinions as facts. I was proud to see Dan run intellectual circles around him, not only showing a more sophisticated world view, but taking the time to listen and ask questions of the women at the table. Dan really was a man to admire in these situations; he had this beautiful way of making everyone in a conversation feel like they had a worthwhile viewpoint, as opposed to conversation-blasting bullhorns like Eddie. “Dan is such a good listener,” I thought to myself. “I’m so lucky to be spending my life with a true partner rather than a macho windbag like Eddie.” That thought settled in nicely.

  But then the rebuttal came: right, Linda, but when you can fuck a woman as well as Eddie, it doesn’t really matter how sensitive you are, now does it? Grrr … that voice again. I tuned it out quickly. What proof did I have that Eddie was good in bed? “He’s probably one of those two-minute men, getting his rocks off and falling to sleep,” I reassured myself. Ha … keep telling yourself that. When Eddie undressed you at the door, he was already thinking about what you would look like coming like crazy on his cock.

  Dammit! The voices were getting harder to drown out, and it didn’t make sense. “Act like jerks, fuck like jerks” had always been my experience. Dan really cares about what I like, and that’s why I love him. But look at Cheryl’s face. Look at the glow and the smile. See that? That’s because Eddie is fucking her brains out—with his huge cock!

  Okay, that does it! I excused myself and got up from the table. I went to the bathroom, thoroughly flustered, with only myself to blame. I splashed cold water on my face, trying to dim the flush without washing off my makeup. What are you thinking? Talking to yourself about your friend’s boyfriend’s cock? And you don’t even know how big it is anyway—not that size matters! A couple more moments fresh
ening up and I felt more like myself. But as I walked back to the table, I felt a wetness between my legs, sliding a bit as I walked. It was a nasty, slutty feeling, one that thrilled me more than I cared to admit.

  I was grateful to be wearing jeans and a thick pair of underwear for the cold. My nipples were rigid and achy, poking their way through my bra and my tight sweater. I might have been embarrassed about that in the past, but for some reason, tonight I wasn’t. When I sat down, I glanced at Cheryl, and yes, dammit, she did look happy.

  Dinner was over. Two couples left; it was down to the four of us. We were drinking coffee spiked with Amaretto when Cheryl suddenly chimed in with, “Who’s up for the hot tub?”

  Silence ensued. Dan and I looked at each other. “Well, we don’t actually have suits ….” I volunteered half-heartedly.

  “Neither do we,” said Cheryl. “Well, we do, but we never use them. Au natural baby!!” (Cheryl had a tendency to say hippy dippy nails-on-chalkboard things like that). She also had a tendency to get her way.

  “C’mon guys, the pool’s right outside the patio door. You can just jump in!” Cheryl piped up.

  I looked at Eddie, and could have sworn I saw a smirk flash across his face. Jeez I was imagining everything now!

  “Okay, let’s do it!” I said impulsively. Dark, unspeakable motivations were driving me. Then I backtracked, realizing I never speak for Dan.

  “Dan,” I turned to him, “my shoulder has been a little achy; I do think the hot tub would do the trick.”

  “I’ll go turn the heat up,” Eddie said as he left the room. Cheryl busied herself in the kitchen getting drinks while Dan and I cleared coffee cups. We told Cheryl we’d wash a few while they got the tub ready. I was aware of Dan’s apparent discomfort, but put it out of my head in a dismissive way.

  When we walked into the living room that looked onto the patio, I was disappointed to see Cheryl was already in the hot tub. No use denying it—I really enjoyed looking at her athlete’s body. Eddie had his back to the door; I could see the muscles rippling up and down his back. He threw his towel down, his ass and leg muscles shimmying as he lowered himself into the water.

  Dan seemed self-conscious. He wasn’t much of an exhibitionist—he actually dimmed the living room lights before taking off his clothes and stepping quickly into the water. For some reason, that bad voice in my head told me, show off your sexy body a little. I took off the towel I had wrapped around me, and despite the cold, took a bit of time putting it down, pretending to look for a dry spot.

  “Damn girl!” Cheryl yelled out.

  I thought Cheryl would be impressed. In the last two years since I’d hung out with her, I’d lost almost fifteen pounds. I’m five foot eight inches tall and about 130 pounds now—maybe ten pounds heavier than during my college years, but a lot lighter than I had been since. I was always a perfectionist about my weight, but the good thing about 130 pounds is that my tits were really big—almost a D cup and a lot bigger than Cheryl’s.

  Cheryl always appreciated my “old school 70s rack” as she put it, or sometimes, my “bodacious rack” or my “boy magnets.” They weren’t as perky as they once were, but at thirty six, they had held up pretty well—though I can’t lie: I was dreading another ten years of aging there. My ass still felt big to me, but I knew that my wide hips were another part of my body that men ogled and Cheryl herself envied.

  I sauntered towards the hot tub—there’s no other way of putting it. And there was that voice again. You’re showing off; you love teasing guys with your hot body and getting whatever you want. What a horrible thing to think!! Considering how hard I have worked to become a woman who has many great attributes—not just looks—I didn’t like thinking about my hip power. But there it was. Was I really just a slut at heart? A slut for guys like Eddie, that bad, bad voice said as I lowered myself into the tub.

  Chapter 3: Hot Tub Revelations

  Soon we were low on drinks, and the hot tub was too damn pleasant to get out of. Cheryl told the guys to fetch us gin and tonics. A hesitant look flashed across Dan’s face, but when Eddie got out of the hot tub, Dan did too. It only took ten seconds for them to walk into the living room from the deck, but in the slow motion of my head, it took much longer.

  I struggled to stifle a gasp as I saw Eddie’s big soft cock literally flopping from side to side. It hung arrogantly down his thighs like a python. In contrast, Dan’s penis was small and boyish. I felt a primal flash of embarrassment, as if I had settled for a second-tier male while my friend Cheryl had scored the alpha. The moment passed, but Eddie’s big flopping cock got bigger and bigger inside my mind.

  Out of my daze, I realized that Cheryl was looking over at me and smiling wickedly.

  “Linda … Linda ….” She snapped her fingers as I turned to her.

  “It’s amazing the differences in the male anatomy, huh?” she asked. I wanted to say “Yes!” emphatically, but felt the need to defend my husband.

  “Well, you know Cheryl, some guys are grow-ers and some are show-ers,” I said in an unconvincing way.

  “Oh Pleeeeease …” said Cheryl. “There’s no way Dan’s little penis is anywhere near Eddie’s cock in size. No way.”

  I couldn’t believe Cheryl’s frankness, but then, that’s how Cheryl always was—I guess I had just forgotten. “Cheryl, you don’t know that! Dan is a fine size.” I was starting to get mad. Cheryl was acting like a superficial sorority girl, judging my husband against jerky Eddie.

  “Sure, whatever you say,” said Cheryl, smiling to herself. I noticed that my right hand was casually moving between my thighs. I could feel a tingling between my legs, a desire to rub and caress.

  When the guys came back out, the size contrast was again astonishing, but I forced myself to look away. We all got back to talking; I felt a sigh of relief when the moment passed. Still, I could feel some warm/happy sensations lingering between my thighs.

  Then Cheryl shook up the evening. “Eddie, honey, can you do me a favor? Linda and I were having an argument and I need to show her something … sit up please.”

  Eddie was only too happy to sit on the edge of the tub. While I sat there in a state of shock, Cheryl picked up Eddie’s big ropey cock with one hand and started to jack it. Slowly but surely, Eddie’s soft cock started to grow and harden. Still bent, it was starting to straighten and swell.

  “That’s it,” Cheryl cooed as she jacked it a bit more aggressively. I was struck by the cocky look on Eddie’s face. Eddie’s dick was at least eight inches and as thick as my forearm; it looked monstrous and obscene. It wasn’t smooth and pretty like Dan’s; it was a big fat monstrous half-alive thing … and I was getting wetter and wetter staring at it. “That, Linda, is the most masculine thing you have ever seen” that wicked voice inside me said.

  “That’s it, Eddie, show them that big cock of yours, show them how huge you get for me!” Cheryl was getting kind of nasty and didn’t seem to care. She got up and kneeled on the other side of Eddie so we would have a better view. Before we knew it, she was jacking that huge cock, presenting it to us. Even though his dick had two hands on it, its big head and part of its shaft still pushed out.

  “Oh, Ed, what a beautiful huge cock you have,” Cheryl cooed. “Show them how hard you can get …. Show them what you take care of this pussy with ….”

  I couldn’t believe how Cheryl was talking, but we all had a few drinks in us. In this drunken state, it felt natural for Cheryl to be paying homage to this big cock right in front of us. I looked over at Dan, and he was as fixated on the scene as I was. I couldn’t blame him; Cheryl’s beautiful back muscles were rippling in the deck lights. It was like watching two cougars, two perfectly muscled animals, prepare for sex.

  Something came over me, and I reached underwater between Dan’s legs. I found his cock rock hard, as hard as I could remember feeling it. I started stroking it while watching the action. This turns him on. The thought seared into my brain. Looking at Cheryl jacking Eddie’s fat cock
with two hands made me compare my hand on Dan’s cock. Cheryl was right. Eddie’s cock is MUCH bigger. She can’t even handle him with two hands, meanwhile, your hand easily swallows up Dan’s hard little dick. ARGH! That might have been the cruelest, most politically incorrect thought I’ve ever had. But there it was. And the truth of it was undeniable.

  “Oh Eddie,” Cheryl said. “Stroking you is making my pussy so wet … I want to fuck you right in front of them … feel you filling me up so good … show them how you split my pussy open ….” Eddie just groaned. Cheryl was jacking him with one hand and rubbing his big ball sack with the other. I couldn’t take it anymore … with Cheryl talking like that. I had to put my own hand inside me. I touched my crotch with my left hand and felt a massive jolt up and down my body. You’re such a nasty slut, oh, you are ….

  “On second thought, let’s save that for later,” said Cheryl. Perhaps she was shy about fucking Eddie right in front of us—we had never had that kind of swinging friendship in the past. I felt secretly disappointed.

  But then she said: “No, let’s make you come instead! I wanna see that dick come!” Oh yes, so do I, so do I …. Cheryl started stroking the shaft with both hands again. “Two hands, Eddie,” Cheryl said, “Just the way you like it.”

  “Ohhh …” Eddie moaned.

  “You love it when girls worship that big cock of yours … don’t you … don’t you!”

  “Ohhh …” was all Eddie could say ….

  “You love it, right?” Cheryl demanded, increasing the pace.

  “Oh yes!” yelled Eddie.

  “That’s right.”

  As Cheryl jerked Eddie’s cock faster and faster, I worked Dan’s cock furiously with my hand as well. The look of lust on Dan’s face as he watched the action spurred me on. Before long Eddie’s dick was coming, squirting again and again, launching big long ropes of cum across Cheryl’s tits and chest.