Wandering Wives, Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The next morning was a workday, but I knew there was no way I could make it through eight hours of work after having about four hours of sleep. When the alarm clock rang at 6:00 a.m., we both came awake. I knew by the way Sherry looked at me, and the way I felt, that we both needed a day off. We decided to call in sick that day, something we rarely did. We both had sick days built up, and didn't feel the slightest bit of guilt about the little white lies we'd tell when we called our offices later. With that decision made, I turned off the alarm and went back to sleep.

After we had finally got the day underway, we sat at the breakfast table drinking coffee and talking. It was obvious to both of us that there had been a significant change in our relationship, and it was reflected in our conversation. Instead of casually chatting about the weather, we talked about the Wandering Wives club. Instead of mentioning some news from our respective jobs, we talked about how important it was for a woman to be sexually fulfilled, and to have orgasms just as often as a man. But most of all we talked about the next meeting of the club.

Sherry began that particular discussion by saying, "The next meeting will be a week from next Wednesday, as you know. Do you want me to take you with me?" As in our other conversations during the past few hours, there was no need for either of us to pretend we didn't know what the other was talking about, which is pretty typical of most married couples, and would have been typical of us less than 24 hours ago. I answered simply, "Yes. I'd like that very much."

She paused for a few seconds, as if trying to collect her thoughts, before continuing. "I know you've had fantasies about watching me being fucked by other men, but I hope you realize the reality will be entirely different. It's one thing to lie in bed with me and think of something like that, but to actually see it being done is another. Are you sure you can handle it?"

I didn't need any time to consider my answer, and quickly replied, "Yes. I'm sure I can. I know what you mean by the difference between fantasy and reality, and I still think it's what I want. I've seen the photos and the video of other men making love to you, and that made it pretty real for me. I definitely want to go with you, and watch the real thing."

She said, "We don't call it 'making love' in the club. It's nothing but fucking, pure and simple. That's like confusing scratching an itch with caressing a lover. They're entirely different. I love you, and always will. It's just that I have an itch that you can't scratch, because of the dirty trick Mother Nature played on you. You can't help the fact your penis is too small to satisfy me, and I can't help the fact I need big cocks. It's just the way it is."

I nodded my head in agreement, and she continued, "I just want to make sure you won't embarrass me in front of my friends. Not too long ago, another woman brought her husband to watch her being fucked. He was just like you, and had said he definitely wanted to see it. However, as soon as the first man started, her husband began crying and whining for her to stop. He had confused fantasy and reality, and as a result had shamed her. I just want to be sure the same thing won't happen with you."

I thought for a short time about what she'd said, finally saying in reply, "I'd never do such a thing to you. I can imagine how ashamed she was." After another pause, I continued, "What happened then?"

Sherry had a very serious expression on her face as she answered my question. "Well, first off she had some of the men carry her husband to another room and tie him to a chair. He was left there until she had finished fucking as much as she wanted, and then she took him home. On the next meeting night, she and Joan took him to the back room, and they took care of the problem."

Her casual mention of the "back room" at the club immediately recalled to mind the last thing she's said as I fell asleep. As she'd known would happen, my curiosity was very much aroused, and I asked, "What do you mean? How did they solve the problem?"

She smiled, almost as if to herself, before answering, "Maybe I should have said that Joan 'fixed' the problem. I suppose that would be a more accurate description."

When she didn't say anything else in explanation, I asked again, "What do you mean? How was the problem fixed?"

Again she smiled, but more broadly this time. "I mean 'fixed', as in cats, dogs, and veterinarians. Now do you understand?"

To say I was shocked would have been putting it mildly. I was sure that I did indeed understand, but had to know for sure. I stammered, "You mean they. . . they. . . his. . .?" She broke in then, and laughingly said, "Yes, lover. I mean they castrated him. As in cut off his balls. Is that clear enough?" She then began to laugh openly at my confusion.

I'm sure my expression was amusing, but I certainly wasn't feeling very humorous right then. Rather, I was intensely curious, especially knowing that she seemed to think I was ready for a similar visit. I tried to satisfy my curiosity by asking, "How did they do it? Did he just let them do it to him?"

Sherry became serious then, and replied, "They did it the old fashioned way: with a knife. As for him letting them do it, well I guess that would be the most accurate way to state it. My friend had told him that she simply couldn't live without fucking other men, and if he couldn't accept it, then she'd get a divorce. When he broke down crying, and said he couldn't live without her, she offered him another choice. Either he could lose her, or he could lose his balls. She gave him 24 hours to make his decision, and when he had, arranged for Joan to be there on the next visit. End of story."

It certainly wasn't the end of the story for me, and I said, "I suppose that lots of men would make that same decision, if given only those two choices. I know I would." At that she smiled and nodded, and I continued, "But wouldn't doing that to a man require a doctor, and maybe even a stay in a hospital?"

She replied, in a somewhat exasperated tone, "You men! Your whole world revolves around your crotch, doesn't it? Most men seem to think it'd be a major operation for them to be castrated. In truth, it's a very simple thing. One slice and two snips and the job is done. Stallions, bulls, rams, dogs, cats, etc., etc. are castrated every day, and I can assure you no doctor is required. It's exactly the same for a man. You're nothing special, you know. Balls are balls. Joan says it's a very quick and simple thing to cut off a man's nuts. It's the other thing that takes special care to remove."

This was getting more and more confusing, as well as arousing, to me as it went along. After thinking over what she'd said, I asked, "When you say 'the other thing', do you mean my penis? Joan said it'll be more difficult to cut off my penis? Is that what you meant?" Even as I asked those questions, I could feel my confusion being replaced with excitement. This conversation was getting very close to my favorite fantasy, and the fact that we were sitting here at the kitchen table and talking about it in such a straightforward manner, in broad daylight, was somehow even more arousing.

She smiled broadly then, with an intense look of satisfaction on her face, and I realized she was glad that I'd said "my penis", and not "a penis". Finally she continued, saying, "Yes. That's exactly what I mean. Does it shock you to know that women do such things to men? Or is it making your little dickie all hard because it's so close to your fantasy?" When I didn't say anything, she went on. "Women have been castrating men, and cutting off their cocks, for as long as there have been women and men. It's just such an easy way to control them, and it works so well, that we've continued to do it."

"When it comes to making a man more docile and accepting of his wife's lifestyle, then a good old-fashioned nutting can't be beat. If she wants to keep him excited all the time, and eager to serve her, then cutting off his little pecker is just the ticket. In the case of my friend, she said that about a month after he'd been castrated, her husband became very accepting of her lifestyle, and didn't ever try to interfere. If it'd been a case of wanting to make him more anxious to serve as her cum slave, and to be more of a slave to her in general, then Joan would have removed his penis, but left his balls."

When I said nothing, but just sat there with a stunned expression on my face, Sherry asked, "Does it turn you on to think of that being done to you?" I couldn't stop myself from nodding my answer, because in truth it did indeed turn me on very much. She then continued, "If you think it'd be fun to have your balls cut off, just throw a fit at the club. I'll have you in the back room so fast you'll barely have time to spread your legs for Joan. On the other hand, if you want your little wee-wee cut off, then just be less than enthusiastic when I'm feeding you my tenth load. About a month with your balls pumping out sex hormones, but no cock to use to jack off, should make you lots more willing to act like a proper cum slave. Don't you agree?"

It took awhile, and several throat clearings for me to finally reply, "Yes. I'm sure what you say is true. It's just that I never thought something like that could actually happen." I paused then, to give myself time for thought, before continuing. "Have any of your friends had to do that to their husband? You know, the thing about removing his penis?"

She responded in a serious tone, "Actually, very few of the women I know in the club have used that method to control their husbands, and make them better cum slaves. I have to admit that most of them have never told their husbands about their Wednesday night meetings, so of course the need for a penectomy never came up, to coin a phrase." At that point we both broke into laughter at what she'd said, and then she went on. "Joan has been a member for several years, and she told me that she assisted during a penectomy about a year after she joined. It was performed by another member who was a surgical nurse, and Joan said that's where she learned the technique. She cut off a penis all by herself about five years ago, just because she couldn't stand the frustration she was feeling from not doing another one."

"She told me the excitement she felt that first time was almost overwhelming, and it's all she thought about when some man was fucking her. After a few years of fantasizing about doing another man, she couldn't stand it any longer, and so she took her husband to the back room one night and cut off his cock. She said it was even more exciting than when she'd helped do it to a stranger, and I suppose that's understandable. I'm sure it'll be lots better for me to cut off yours than some other man's, don't you?"

To say I was flustered then would be an understatement. So much of my fantasy had come true in the past few hours that I was almost in ecstasy when I thought about it. Now here was my very own wife telling me that she wouldn't hesitate to castrate me if I didn't behave while other men were fucking her. In addition, she seemed to be saying that she found it arousing to think about cutting off my penis, and wouldn't have any qualms about doing it whenever she wanted. It was almost too much for my mind to comprehend.

After a very long pause, I finally replied, "Yes. I'm sure it'd be more exciting for you to see mine being cut off. It's so close to my fantasy that I can't even think straight. Does that mean you've been thinking about doing that to me? Have you had that kind of fantasy too? You know, about cutting it off me? Last night you said something about me being ready for the back room. Does that mean you're going to take me down there and do that to me?"

She smiled lazily before replying, "To answer your first question: Yes, I've had fantasies like that for a long time. It's almost as if there is some sort of ESP going on between us, because the fantasy you told me about is pretty close to mine. As for me taking you to the back room and cutting off your little dickie, all I can say is that we'll just have to wait and see. It depends on how well you do at the next meeting. Maybe I'll just have you castrated instead." She smiled broadly then, seemingly amused to think of me whining for her to stop fucking another man. It wasn't amusing to me, because I knew with all my heart that I sincerely wanted to watch that, and would never do anything to stop it.

After a short pause, she said in a reflective tone of voice, "I can't believe I waited so long to finally get you to eat a fresh load out of me. You've been getting a little taste of other men's cum for a couple of years now, I suppose. But always before, by the time you had your tongue in me, it would have been a few days since I'd been fucked. Maybe it was that hint of strange semen that caused you to have your fantasies. Anyway, it's almost sad to think of all that time wasted. If I'd started you doing that right from the first, you would have long since been a real cum slave."

"You'll never know how many times I talked to the other women at the club, asking what I could do to get us at least talking about it, if not actually having your head between my legs licking up your snack. It was Joan who came up with the idea of adding my photos and video to the Website, and then trying to get you to look at them on your computer. I remember telling the photographer to be especially careful to focus in on my kitten when he showed my pussy leaking cum. I wanted to erase every last doubt in your mind that it really was your very own wife lying there. Guess it worked, huh?"

She gave me the most endearing smile I'd ever seen, and my heart melted as my love for her almost overwhelmed me. I realized then all the trouble I'd caused her by not being more forthright about my fantasies, and I too regretted all the lost time. I said, "I'm sorry you had to do so much to make me act like a husband should. I should have been man enough to tell you years ago that I wanted to see other men fucking you, and then clean up after them. There's no excuse for me not doing so. I'm sorry."

She placed her hand on mine then, and squeezed it tightly. I could see a faint misting of tears in her eyes as she said softly, "You're the sweetest husband that ever could be. I'm sorry too that we didn't start doing this many years ago. When I think of all the big cocks I could have had, and all the cum you could have eaten, it just boggles my mind. But, that's water over the dam, isn't it? We're on the right road now, and let's move down it just as fast as possible, to make up for lost time. There are so many, many things I've wanted to do to you, and for you to do for me, and now it looks like they'll soon be happening."

I was finally able to swallow the lump in my throat, and said sincerely, "I'll do anything in this world for you. I'm sure you know that. It doesn't matter what it is. All you'll have to do is tell me what you want, and I'll do it. I promise." Again her eyes misted, and then we both sat in silence for a long time, sipping our coffee.

She then seemed to come out of her reverie, and looked directly at me, saying, "Now that we've finally discovered just how close our interests are, we can move much faster. I just know that you'll do everything I expect of you at the club in a couple of weeks, and we won't have to castrate you. After a few more sessions, I think you'll be ready for the next step."

I nodded my head in agreement, and again assured her that I'd make her proud of me. I said I'd even beg the men to service her, and then beg her to allow me to do my duty, if that's what she wanted. I remember wishing then that we could go to the club right at that moment, because I wanted nothing more than to once again taste the wonderful juices she gave me, and to feel their incredible texture on my tongue.

We sat quietly sipping our coffee then, each lost in our own thoughts. After several minutes of pleasant silence, she said, "I was thinking just now of my fantasy that's so close to yours. Would you like to hear it?"

I very much wanted to hear it, and told her so. She made as if to begin, then hesitated. She said, "I think it'd be better to wait and tell it to you this weekend. One of the principles of training males is to use their sexual excitement as a control. You'll probably be lots more horny in three days, especially if you don't play with your little thingie in the meantime." She smiled at that, then continued, "That makes me think of another thing that needs to change around here. I want you to stop jacking off, unless I tell you to do so. There's no reason in the world for you to be constantly pumping away on your little toy, so I want it to stop. Can you do that?"

By that time in our relationship I was very much in thrall to her, and quickly agreed. I was secretly hoping that our new understanding would mean that I'd be allowed to serve her sexually much more often than in the past, and my orgasms would be just as many as before. At least, that was my hope.

She finished her coffee then and stood, saying, "Now, we both have other things to do. I'm going to fix something for our lunch, and while I'm doing that, I want you to clean the bathroom. It's about time you started doing some of the housework around here, don't you think? If I really do take you to the back room, then you'll come out of there as my true slave, and I'll want you to do all the housework. It'll be good practice for you to start some of your new duties right now, don't you think?" I wasn't all that excited about being assigned housework duties, but my cock was in charge right then, and it was excited by the tone of command in her voice, which maybe promised that the next command would allow it to do something more sexual in nature. I left for the bathroom and started working.