Chapter 1

I've been thinking about my husband lately, and I guess that's what motivated me to write this story about our experiences during the past two years. More than anything, I think just putting the words on paper will help me recall more clearly all the exciting and rewarding things that have happened to me. Whenever I think of them, I get even more excited, and that seems to make my memory less trustworthy. Hopefully, the process of writing this account will make everything more clear.

I suppose the logical place to start is actually about two years ago, because that's when I learned my husband, Jack, had a very strong fantasy. It was when it became reality, rather than merely fantasy, that we began living the lifestyle both of us found so deeply exciting and rewarding.

What was his oh-so-important fantasy, you ask?

Actually, based on my conversations with other women, I truly believe it was a rather common one, and it involved me turning him into a cuckold by having sex with other men. I'm sure many of you men reading this story right now have had that same fantasy more than once, and if you're like Jack, then you know just how all-consuming it can become to think of watching another man make love to your wife, and then her "forcing" you to provide those "special services" only a sexually-aroused husband can furnish.

I first learned of my husband's fascination with cuckoldry entirely by accident, which is undoubtedly how that sort of thing usually comes about. You see, I was writing some correspondence on the computer in my home office when it developed a "glitch" of some sort, and so, as I had done many times before, I went into Jack's study to finish the job on his machine. He was at the university at that time, probably teaching one of his English classes, so I knew it wouldn't disturb anything he was doing if I borrowed his computer for a few minutes.

Those "few minutes" proved to be the most momentous ever, in terms of our marriage, and, indeed, our entire lives.

I opened his word processor, and then by mistake clicked the button that opened a list of his recent files, rather than creating a new file, as I had intended. The list that popped up took me by surprise, since I had been expecting nothing more than a blank page, and as I sat there momentarily confused, my eye randomly gazed at the names of the files he'd been working on recently.

The one that caught my attention was "Sharon's Three Lovers," mainly because that happens to be my name. Of course, my woman's curiosity made me open that particular file, and then the next half hour was spent with my eyes glued to the screen, and I'm sure I never moved in the slightest, and probably barely breathed.

The story Jack had written about me had the theme, as you've undoubtedly already guessed, of my cuckolding him, and not only with just one man, but with three at the same time. In his fantasy tale, the three men had sex with me in every position imaginable, until they had emptied their balls inside me, and I had climaxed every time that had happened.

That wasn't the most-exciting part of the story, though, even as hot as I found it to be. What proved to be even more arousing to me as I sat there reading my husband's words was what came next.

As soon as my three lovers had spent themselves, and filled my stretched and sopping-wet pussy, I looked to Jack as he knelt naked beside the bed. In a commanding voice, I ordered him to lick my lovers' penises until they were completely clean. As soon as he had finished that task, I roughly pushed him to the floor on his back, and then sat on his mouth. Again my order rang out, and this time it was to, "Suck every bit of their cum out of your wife's cunt, you worthless wimp cuckold!"

Just when I thought his story couldn't possibly get any hotter, I opened the next chapter, and then almost passed out as I read what was done to him when he had swallowed the last gobbet of sperm. Jack told of how the three men had lifted him to his feet, and then almost dragged him to our garage. Once there, his wrists were tied to a rope that dangled beneath a pulley that had been attached to the rafters.

The three men then pulled on the free end of the rope until my husband's feet were completely off the floor, and his body hung there twisting limply, with his little pecker jumping up and down as if anxious to meet its fate.

What that fate was to be was made crystal clear when the men and I each took a whip from the display panel on a nearby wall, and then formed a circle around my extremely-aroused, and fully-erect, husband. It was my honor to strike the first blow, and with all my might I aimed it squarely at his throbbing little organ, taking delight in the cry of pain that rang out. As if that were the cue they were waiting for, the three men then began to imitate my actions, but on other parts of my husband's wildly-gyrating body.

Soon he was covered by red welts, and his worthless dick looked like a barber's pole. At that point, I ordered him to spread his legs as wide as he possibly could, and to hold them there. Again, I took the first swing, and this time it was aimed at the newly-exposed parts of his crotch, which were his twin orbs, drawn tightly against his body.

In a matter of seconds, the man who was standing in front with me joined in the good fun, and then the other two men, who were standing behind Jack, began to time their own strokes to ours, bringing their whips up sharply between his legs. My husband's suspended body jerked in time to his cries of agony, and the sight of his rapidly-swelling nuts only drove us to swing our whips even more forcefully. In a matter of seconds, his balls were swollen to the size of grapefruits, but he continued to hold his legs spread in anticipation of even more excruciating agony.

The chapter ended at that point, and I desperately opened the next one, only to find that he hadn't yet typed it. The only things on the new page were the two headings, "My Castration," followed by "My Penectomy." I certainly didn't need any further words to arouse me, because by then my need was so great that I could do nothing other than force my hand under the waistband of the exercise suit I was wearing. Soon my questing fingers found my clit, which was surely even more erect than Jack's penis had been in his story.

I'm sure I had just barely started to stimulate myself when the most-arousing orgasm I ever recall having swept over me. I don't have any idea how I managed to keep myself from falling out of the chair, but somehow I must have, because that's where I still was when reality began to at last dawn in my brain.

I sat there struggling to recover, thinking how aroused Jack's story had made me. As for me, and as I'm sure it is for many wives, I'd been having similar fantasies since well before our first anniversary, when I began to realize something was missing from my sex life. However, my own fantasies had never gone to the lengths of my husband's, since they were usually limited to thinking of other men when we were making love. I had never thought of sexually torturing him, let alone castrating and emasculating him, but now that I'd read his description of the first part, and his intention to describe the second parts, I knew that visions of those things would now be added to my daydreams.

My rapid breathing, combined with the fingers which continued to stimulate my vagina, told me that I wasn't ready to simply get up and walk away. My free hand, guided by my burning brain, found the mouse once again, and in the space of a few heartbeats, I was once more reading the first chapter of my husband's story.

Again I read of my multiple penetrations by the three men, and of the three orgasms I had. Again I ordered Jack to lick the three cocks, and then to suck their quarts of cum from my body. Again I watched as my supremely-aroused husband was dragged to the garage and suspended and whipped. As he described how his balls swelled to the size of grapefruits, my throat was so tight that I could barely draw a breath. Again I read the two headings in the third chapter, but this time, in my imagination, I fleshed them out with my own fantasies of how wonderful it would be to see him castrated, and then how hot it would make me to see his severed little weenie fall to the floor, to flop around there as it slowly died.

With that image burning through every fiber of my being, I once again found the release I craved, and I'm sure that my lust made me cry out with passion as wave after wave of ecstasy swept over me.

At last, I withdrew my hand from my panties, and then matter-of-factly licked my fingers, thinking how very much better it would be if it were my husband doing the licking, and if the juices on my fingers had shortly before been in the balls of three other men. I guess it was at that moment that I realized my entire viewpoint of sex had changed forever. From that time forward, I'd never again be satisfied with the vanilla sex that had passed for love between the two of us since our marriage three years previous to that time.

I knew with utter conviction that, from that time on, I would do whatever was required to, first, get us to talking about cuckoldry, and second, to make his cuckolding a reality. There was never any question that it was going to happen; the only question was how I would make it come about.

Continued in Chapter 2