Chapter 3

My feminine instincts told me Jack would need some time to accept the drastic changes that had happened during the past couple days. I vowed to curb my impatience to advance things even further, for awhile at least.

Over the course of the next week or so, we continued to have hot sex every night, just as if we were newlyweds. In a way, of course, that's exactly what we were. His fantasy, and my accidental discovery of it, had introduced something so new and different to our marriage that it seemed as if we had just met, and were learning new and interesting things about one another.

Every night, after we'd hurried to our bed, I'd make him suck his cum out of me, and then squeeze and twist his penis while he told me how much he wanted to be a cuckold. Over and over I made him tell me what he wanted me to make him do after my lovers had filled my pussy, and to describe exactly how he'd take their cocks in his mouth and lick and suck them until they fed him fresh loads of their hot sperm.

The most-exciting part of all, though, was when I made him tell me what he wanted us to do to him afterwards. I never tired of hearing him describe his suspension in the garage, and how my three lovers and I would punish him with a full-body whipping, with special attention being paid to his tiny organ. By the time he reached the part about me ordering him to spread his legs so we could whip his peanuts, my own arousal was surely the equal of his, and I did my best to tear his dick from his crotch as he spurted gobbets of cum all over himself.

As he squirted his slime, I'd tell him I wanted him to be a eunuch, too, and not "just" a cuckold. I'd ask him if he wanted that as much as I did, and he would gasp out, "Yes!," or "Please!" I knew it was just a matter of time before he'd be describing the missing chapter in his story, and telling me how much he wanted to be castrated and have his little pecker cut off.

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I was unable to wait more than a couple weeks before I decided it was time to put the next phase of my plans into action. By then, I was sure that Jack wanted to be a cuckold just as much as I wanted that for him. He'd convinced me, both during our frantic lovemaking each night, as well as in the earnest conversations we had during the evenings in front of the TV, that he not only wanted to be cuckolded, he was absolutely sure he needed it.

I had also made him, on several occasions in broad daylight, rather than in the semi-dark of our bedroom, describe to me the punishments he wanted me, and also my lovers, to subject him to. I loved hearing him describe how very much he wanted to be suspended in the garage, and then to have his penis whipped until it bled, to be followed in short order by a vicious whipping of his balls, to the point they swelled to the size of grapefruits.

I still hadn't broached the topic of his being made a eunuch, except when he was cumming while I squeezed and pulled on his little organ. There was no question in my mind that he would have said anything, or agreed to anything, at those times, and I decided to not press that issue until he had been a cuckold for awhile. Deep in my soul, though, I was sure that his desire to be castrated and have his penis removed was genuine, and it would be just a matter of time before he'd be begging me to do that to him, just as he was now begging me to cuckold him.

It was the morning of the fourteenth day after I'd accidentally read his story that I set into motion the next phase of our new lifestyle. As had always been our habit, we walked together to the door into the garage, preparatory to him leaving for his teaching job at the university. As we stood at the door, we kissed deeply and passionately, as we'd been doing for the past two weeks, rather than just giving each other a quick peck on the cheek, as had been the case during the first three years of our marriage.

One other "wrinkle" that I'd added just a few days before was that, while we were kissing, I'd fondle Jack's penis through his trousers. I guess it just proved how trainable he was that he quickly came to expect my attentions, as evidenced by the erect state he was in by the time we reached the door.

As we broke the kiss that fateful morning, I continued to play with his dick, and then whispered in his ear, "I'm going to find my lover today." In a flash, his entire body was as stiff as his organ, and he stood there with a blank look on his face. I looked directly at him, then asked, "Don't you have anything to say? It's what you want, isn't it?"

He finally recovered his senses sufficiently to gasp out, "Oh, God, yes! I was afraid you weren't going to do it! Of course it's what I want! I've always wanted you to find a man who could make love to you like you deserve!" He paused then, giving himself a chance to draw a fresh breath, then continued, "Will you bring him home today? Will he be here when I get home?"

I just laughed, then said, "No, honey. These things take time. A girl has to be sure about a man before she lets him in her bed, you know. I just said I was going to find him, not fuck him." I laughed again, and he tried to join me, but simply could not do it.

To reassure him, I hugged him close, then whispered softly, "But don't you worry, honey. I'll be bringing him home with me just as soon as I can. After all, I've been waiting all my life for someone who can give me the kind of fucking I need, and I want it to happen as soon as possible."

He struggled to say, "Me, too!," then stood there trembling in my arms. At last I told him to get going or he'd be late to work, and then said I couldn't get started on more-important things until he left. That gave him all the motivation he needed to be on his way, and I returned to my cup of coffee to review the plans I'd been making for this day.

I already had made my choice, actually, and that day was going to be spent confirming my selection, as well as making the arrangements that I hoped would lead to my first "extramarital deflowering." I'd known the man for almost a year by that time, and was sure that he was just as interested in having sex with me as I was in doing it with him.

I've already mentioned that my husband was a teacher at the local university, and it was that position that led to my first meeting with my intended lover. As I'm sure is the case at all colleges, faculty members have free use of the campus facilities, and that applied to the large indoor pool in the Physical Education building. Any faculty member, as well as his/her family members could use the pool as long as there wasn't a class or a sporting event scheduled there. Since I'd always loved swimming, and the wonderful exercise it gave me, I'd made it a habit to spend a few hours at the pool every week, sometimes in the company of my husband, but usually alone.

On one of my visits, I immediately noticed a new lifeguard, and as any healthy woman would be, was attracted to him. He wasn't muscular to the point of being disfigured, as some muscle-bound, steroid freaks are, but rather gave the impression of being in good physical condition, and able to handle himself in almost any situation that would arise. After half an hour of vigorous swimming and diving, I made a point of spreading my beach towel alongside the part of the pool that was very close to the platform where he sat observing the swimmers. That he had noticed me, just as I had him, was so evident as to be almost comical.

I've always kept myself in good shape, and even though I was 33 years old at that time, felt I compared nicely to the shapely co-eds who were also at the pool. To add to the interest my Bikini-clad body would present to a virile male, I deliberately lay in such a manner that my feet were pointed directly at him, and my casually-spread legs were giving him a clear shot of "Paradise," if you know what I mean.

After his eyes had wandered my way several times, the lifeguard climbed down from his perch, then ambled my way. Like any real woman can do any time she wants, I'd hooked my fish and was now reeling him in.

He introduced himself as "Cody," and said he'd only recently been hired as a lifeguard at the pool. His reason for approaching me so directly was that he was talking to every patron to learn what changes they'd like to see made in the facilities or the offerings there. I guess that was as good an excuse as any other, but to my woman's ears, I could also hear that he was saying he was interested in me, and wanted to get a closer look.

When I offered a friendly reception to his advances, Cody hunkered down beside me, and we began to chat easily as he continued to scan the pool for signs of trouble. What was pleasing to me, though, was the confident way he would casually look directly at my scantily-clad body, especially the parts covered by the tiny halter and the scrap of cloth between my legs. I didn't need the sight of the growing bulge in his Speedo to know he had intentions other than just conducting a survey.

As we talked, I learned that he had recently left the military service, after having served a tour of duty in Iraq. He told me of his experiences there, and how they made him, and all his comrades, grow from boys to men in the space of a few days. He told me what it was like to be under fire, and to see people he knew being blown up by roadside bombs, and of how easy it became to accept that it could easily happen that his own number may be called. As he talked, and I looked at the expression on his face, and the penetrating gaze he focused on me, I knew that Cody, although easily ten years my junior, was more man that I'd ever before encountered. Although I had no conscious thought of it at that time, I know now that it was at that time when I selected him as my lover.

When I had taken my usual laps and dives at the pool, as had become my practice I spread my towel close to Cody's station, and gave him the usual "beaver shot" to draw his attention. That worked like a charm, as it always had, and soon he was standing beside my prone body, with his eyes traveling up and down it, almost as if he were in a butcher's shop, selecting the cut of meat he wanted for his next meal. Given what I intended to do that day, I guess that was probably a reasonably-apt description of what was happening.

At last he knelt beside me, and we fell into an easy conversation. We must have talked for almost an hour, with nothing really important being said, before I was convinced he was my first choice of lovers that I'd use to cuckold Jack.

I asked casually, "If you're not doing anything more important Saturday evening, how'd you like to come over to our house for dinner? Jack and I would really like to get to know you better. Of course, if you have something better to do, we'll understand."

He scoffed quietly, then said, "No, I don't have anything better to do. Even if I did, though, I'd come anyway. I really enjoy talking to you."

I stared directly into his eyes, then said, "I'd have thought a handsome fellow like you would have the girls standing in line for a Saturday date."

Again he made the little noise in his throat, then said, "No, nothing like that. I guess the problem is probably with me, and not them, though. Ever since I came back home, the women my age seem like such little girls, and I don't have anything in common with them."

The unspoken sentiment that he thought me better than the "little girls" pleased me very much, and I was momentarily flustered. Quickly regaining my composure, I said, "Good. We'll expect you at 7:00, and come prepared to spend some time with us. I know Jack will be just as interested in your time in Iraq as I am, so you'll probably have to repeat all the stories you've already told me. Is it a date?"

I was still reclining on my towel, with my upper body resting on my elbows. As I said those words, I deliberately arched my back and took a deep breath. Those of you who have seen a woman do that know it makes her breasts push forward, and emphasizes them. Cody would have to have been blind to not sense that the invitation I was extending just possibly could involve more than a meal and conversation. The way his eyes momentarily widened and his lips parted slightly told me he understood my message. I didn't need the sight of the bulge in his trunks to tell me he not only understood, but accepted.

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When Jack returned home that evening, I was preparing dinner in the kitchen. I could hear him almost running down the hallway from the garage, and when he burst through the kitchen doorway, there was a look on his face that was almost of desperation. His eyes darted quickly around the room, then he asked excitedly, "Did you do it? Is he here?"

For my part, I just chuckled, then said, "No, honey. There's no one here but the two of us. These things take time, you know." The look of disappointment on his face almost made me laugh again, but I took pity on him, saying, "We're going to have a dinner guest Saturday evening. We'll see how things go from there."

Again his face lighted up with anticipation, and he asked, "Will it be him? Is that who's coming? Is he the one?"

I returned to my dinner preparations, saying only, "Maybe. We'll just have to see how it works out, won't we."

We sat on the couch after dinner, as usual, and I decided to take pity on my poor husband and tell him what was happening in terms of his cuckolding. I began rubbing his already-stiff penis through his trousers, then said, "If I'm going to do this for you, then you have to do something for me. Okay?"

His simple answer was, "Anything."

I continued, "Okay, then, here's what it is. If I'm going to go to the trouble to cuckold you, then I'm not going to have sex with you again. Once I've had a real man in my pussy, your little wee-wee would be just a waste of time for me. Will you agree to that, honey?"

His face was momentarily crestfallen, then began to brighten as he replied, "I understand what you mean. I know I've never been able to give you what you need, in terms of sexual satisfaction, and once you find that with another man, you wouldn't want to be disappointed again by having sex with me." He paused for a long time then, before finally whispering softly, "Yes. Even though you don't need my agreement, you have it. It's the way we both want it to be."

I pressed my advantage then, saying, "There's something else, too. I want you to promise me that you'll never again play with yourself, or rub your little thing on the sheets to make it spurt. Will you promise that?"

His pause that time was the longest of all, as he thought of the coming years he'd spend in sexual frustration, denied even the release his hand could provide. At last, though, he looked deep into my eyes, then said with utter conviction, "Yes, I promise I'll never again masturbate, or do anything else that'll give me an orgasm. I love you so much that I'll do anything you require of me."

We sealed the bargain with a passionate kiss, and then I dropped the final bombshell of the night. I said, "There's one other thing you have to do for me, honey. I want you to move to the guest bedroom from now on. If another man moves in with us, he won't want you in the same room with us, at first anyway. Maybe if it works out, you can sleep on the floor beside our bed, but for now, I want you sleeping in another room. Okay?"

That requirement seemed to actually be more difficult for him to accept than the other two, but at last he nodded his head. He then whispered, "I can understand why it has to be that way, and I guess all I can do is just hope you'll let me back in your bedroom some day."

And that was the way it came to be.

Continued in Chapter 4.