What A Husband Came Home to Find

 

A husband's confession . . . 

I returned home from work and found my wife’s thong panties lying on the floor.  It meant only one thing: her lover had dropped by, and they were currently fucking. 


I picked up her panties and stuffed it into my pocket, then shut the door behind me and advanced into my home.  


Her lover’s clothes were strewn across the furniture.  Larry is his name.  She had met him at a bar.  Their meeting had been a coincidental one: she had been there to meet a friend who somehow stood her up; likewise, he was there waiting on a date that never showed up.  According to Kristin, my wife, they had locked eyes on each other from across the room, and then Larry manoeuvred through the small crowd towards her and that was that.  Kristin’s one rule regarding her choice in lovers was that she never fucked a would-be lover on a first date.  But Larry had beguilingly charmed the panties off her, and she inevitably broke her rule that night.  She called me from his place, saying she would be home late and for me not to wait up.  But of course, she knew I was going to stay up until she returned home.


I dropped my briefcase on the centre table, then took off my jacket and draped it on a chair before heading up the stairs towards the bedroom.


From the landing, I could hear the familiar noise of sex.  They had neglected to shut the door; I didn’t need to pad quietly as I knew they would be too bothered with each other to give notice. 


I peeped past the doorway into the room, and I gasped at what I saw.



Kristin was on the bed getting fucked from behind by Larry while another black man—likely a friend of Larry’s—was sprawled in front of her.
  Kristin was feeding on his cock while he leaned back against a mountain of pillows.  There were the repeated claps of Larry’s thighs connecting with her buttock as he slammed into her.  It matched in near-perfect rhythm with Kristin’s mewling cries. 


I grabbed at my crotch and tried to steel my mind against what I was watching.  It wasn’t the first time I returned home to such sight, and it won’t be the last.


Kristin and I have been married six years, but the last time I made incredible love to her was two years ago.  I had suggested that she sleep with other men, as I realised I was incapable of satisfying her libido.  In the span of those two years, she has had multiple lovers; Larry was her latest, and so far, he had outlasted the others.


It was Larry’s friend who suddenly looked up and saw me staring at them.


“Who’s the white boy?” His friend said to him while glaring at me.  Larry turned towards the doorway and saw me, and I was immediately flush with embarrassment at having being caught.


“Hey there, Jerry,” Larry laughed, then gestured at me to enter.  “Come on in, white boy.  My buddy and I have been waiting on your ass.  Tim, this here’s Jerry.  Jerry, meet my buddy, Tim.”


“What’s up, white boy,” said Tim to me.  He gave me a lazy stare that seemed to say that I didn’t matter to him.


I ventured into the room and stood sheepishly two feet from the bed.  Kristin flashed me a grin that seemed to belly my embarrassment further.  Her lips and lower chin were coated with saliva and cum; she was having a great time, as she often did when with Larry.



“Hiya, Jer,” she blew me a kiss.
  She calls me Jer whenever she wants to dig in on me feeling shameful with myself.  It never failed to work, but it simultaneously excited me whenever I watched her like this.  “Why don’t you grab yourself a chair, cucky-boy,” she laughed.


“Nah, cuck-boy don’t need no fucking chair,” Larry pulled out of Kristin then advanced towards me, stroking his turgid erection in his hand.  His chest heaved with his breathing.  His face glistened with sweat.  He took a moment swipe some of it off his brow then flicked his hand in my direction.


“Get down on your knees and worship me, cucky-boy,” he sneered.


I did fall to my knees, and I did open my mouth and let him slid his cock, coated with Kristin’s pussy juice, down my throat as if he was sliding a debit card into an ATM.  I enclosed my mouth around his shaft and proceeded to suck him dry.  Larry smiled with approval; Kristin chuckled at my misery from the bed.


“That’s a good boy,” Larry said.  “Now, let’s see you get out of your clothes.  Go on, take them off.  Let’s show your bitch what I gave you last week.”


Kristin caught this, and she stopped sucking Tim’s cock to look at both of us.  “What gift?  Honey, what did Master Larry get you?  How come you haven’t shown me?”


“I told him not to,” Larry answered.  “Now’s a good time to reveal it.  What do you say, cucky?”


Fear lit my eyes when he said that.  My God, did I seriously have to do that!


“Larry, please.  Can’t we—”


Larry slapped my cheek.  “That’s Master Larry to you, cucky-boy,” he gave me a warning finger.  “And this ain’t no argument here.  Stand up and pull down your pants now.”



There was no point protesting.
  I stood up, and everyone watched as I undid my belt buckle then dropped my pants to reveal the pair of pink panties I was wearing.  Kristin unleashed a bray of laughter, as I knew she would.  She had bought me a matching set of panties to wear for each day of the week.  Each panties colour bore its specific day; today being Wednesday was the reason I wore pink.  Larry indicated at me to pull down my panties, which I did, to my awkward shame.


It revealed the copper-plated chastity cage I was wearing but positioned three inches above my crotch was a boldly-written tattoo that said: I AM MASTER LARRY’S BITCH!


This unleashed a further torrent of laughter from Kristin and the others.  I stood there flush with humiliation, yet secretly loving the fact that they were laughing at me. 


“When did you get him tatted?” Kristin inquired.


“Last Tuesday,” Larry said.  “Figured it was about time cucky-boy learned a new lesson in ownership.  Don’t you, Jerry boy?”

“Yes, Master Larry,” I moaned.


“Good boy.  Now head on downstairs and get us something to eat.  Tim and I are getting starved already.”


“Go on, cucky-boy,” Kristin waved goodbye to me then returned to pleasuring Larry’s cock.



I should have worn back my clothes, but it made no point in doing that anymore.
  I laid my shirt and tie on a chair, but stopped to retrieve Kristin’s panties out of my pants pocket before leaving it behind.  I wore her panties around my neck as a sort of memento.  Now I had nothing on me besides my chastity cage and panties and a pair of stockings on my feet.  


My last view of Kristin before exiting the room, she laid on her back, choking on Larry’s cock while his friend held her legs apart while ramming her pussy with his cock.  I closed the door behind me, shutting off the sound of their fucking, and headed downstairs to the kitchen.








Comments

  1. More white guys should wear panties. They feel so amazing and sexy. I wonder why cuck didn't get a jack of spades or beta of spades tattoo since his white wife fucks Black Men and he sucks Black Cock.

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