Cucking the Snowbound Couple Ch. 05

*** Disclaimer ***

The following story is a work of fiction. It contains themes of cheating, cuckoldry, voyeurism, and NTR. If this isn't the fetish for you, don't waste your time reading the next (however many) pages, then waste my time sending me hate mail.

Otherwise, I love hearing from fans, and welcome any suggestions, thoughts, criticisms, or fantasy ideas. Enjoy!

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Chapter 5...

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I felt groggy and sick for most of that morning. Some of it was from the liquor, but a lot of it was a deep sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. An ache that continued to tighten. It hurt my heart and made me want to cry. It stole my appetite. My ability to use the bathroom. My ability to think clearly. All I wanted to do was get to the bottom of this.

I collected the underwear from the floor as I pondered the implications. Last night, I thought I had woken up in the middle of the night to see by the light of the TV, my wife and this stranger we've been stranded with, sharing a passionate fuck session right in front of me. And I'd been so drunk and incoherent, I couldn't even move.

But now that I was awake, everything felt so distant, like it never happened. Alex and Brett were asleep in the living room where I'd last seen them. They were both fully clothed... Did I dream that whole incident or not?

I was pacing in front of the bedroom window, occasionally pausing to glance outside. The snow had stopped, but the air looked blustery and bone chilling. The snow wouldn't be melting... at least not for a while. That situation hadn't changed. We were still trapped here. Snowed in with him...

I took a deep breath. I couldn't get mad. I needed to think about this for a freakin' minute. But my head was throbbing, and my stomach was doing somersaults.

Last night we had watched a sexually charged movie. Was it possible that between the liquor, the shower incident, and the movie, I had just a really crazy dream? I guess it was possible. I was always a vivid dreamer, and was very prone to nightmares— though usually when I was sober.

But how did that explain the underwear?

Alex's thong was wadded up in my hand. Last night, I'd woken up to her wearing these, kneeling in front of Brett and passionately swallowing his cock. Then she'd taken them off, he wadded them up and used them to gag her so she didn't moan too loudly and awaken me. Even thinking about the image brought an embarrassing tent to my pajama pants. I've never seen sex so passionate and wild. If it really happened like I was remembering, then I knew I should be much more worried than when our shower threesome had gotten out of hand. What I saw last night wasn't simple lust. It was a passionate sex fueled romance... and a genuine contempt for me. I recalled the things my wife had whispered to Brett about me... the terrible things...

But had she really been wearing these? I had no knowledge of her underwear choices prior to when I "woke up" drunk. For all I knew, these had simply fallen out of her bag at some point or another. Maybe even Brett had planted them to cause further problems.

I glanced out the bedroom door into the living room. Brett was still snoozing, with his arm thrown across his eyes. Alex was curled up on the couch, looking completely innocent.

I looked back to the underwear in my hands.

"Okay Sean," I whispered under my breath. "Here's the facts: We're snowed in with this guy."

Yes, that was true.

"We got drunk on night one, and had a threesome that may or may not have gotten out of hand and completely excluded me."

I scowled. It hurt to say that out loud. It broke my heart, but I shook it away. Mistake. The act of shaking my head brought on a fresh wave of nausea.

I guess I could rationalize it a bit. We were in a romantic setting. We were all drunk. We were all turned on. We're all attractive people. Even I could admit that Brett was a handsome man. Damn near 6'8", he commanded any room. And his classic tall, dark, and handsome features would be impossible for any woman to not find attractive. Especially his easy smile, which looked a lot like my wife's. Both had big dominant smiles filled with perfect teeth. My wife matched him in many other ways— equally hot. Tall and athletic. If you blurred your eyes slightly, Alexandra sort of looked like a cross between Hilary Swank and Jennifer Garner. Her dark brown hair swept across one side of her face, playfully covering one eye. Her mouth had big natural dimples, she had strong cheekbones and a handsome brow-line set above two large chocolate colored eyes. She had a big perfectly heart-shaped ass, strong smooth thighs, a flat tummy (complete with belly button ring), and though her tits weren't the giant melons that most men preferred, her B-cups were perfectly round, perky without a hint of sag, and complimented by puffy pink nipples.

Gah! I was getting off track. I needed to get back to assessing the situation.

"Brett fooled us into taking a shower. We had another threesome that also may or may not have crossed the line."

I swallowed and glanced at the shower. Speaking of shower, I desperately needed one. My pajama pants were crusty from where I had cum in them. My cock was stuck to my thigh. I felt gross and tacky. That may or may not have been caused by a wet dream. Which brought me to my last point...

"Last night, I opened my eyes and saw Alex sucking and fucking Brett right in front of me. And what they were talking about... it sounded like she was interested in him... and didn't give a shit about me any longer..."

The lead ball of anxiety swelled just from the act of articulating it out loud, and I felt like my stomach dropped.

My only piece of evidence, a pair of my wife's underwear that I collected from the floor, that may or may not have simply fallen out of her bag.

"Was it a dream, or not?" I asked myself, and found that I didn't have the answer. I swore. On the one hand, if this was the woman I knew and trusted and had married, then it was completely plausible that I had dreamt it in my drunken state. And if it wasn't... well then the woman that I loved had taken a new lover, and I was really the third wheel on my own honeymoon.

I ran a hand over my face as I glanced out the window at the snowy hellscape, wishing it would all just melt and we could end this nightmare. Is this what cabin fever really is? I'd always heard the term, read about it in books, and watched it in horror movies— the classic case of people going insane from being stuck in close quarters with each other due to snowy conditions. Wasn't paranoia a symptom of that? Could I be going insane? Could I be the problem?

I didn't feel claustrophobic, or smothered or anything like that. The entire source of my anxiety was the thought that this guy was trying to steal my wife. If he wasn't here, I was certain I'd be feeling great.

So which was it? Were they cheating? Or was I the crazy one?

I grunted. Maybe I was in denial. "Call it fifty fifty." I mumbled to myself, and glanced out the door at the two of them, still fast asleep.

"So what do we do?" I didn't have an answer. What would I do if it turned out to be the worst case scenario?

I supposed I could wake them up and ask them. But I remembered the fights I had with Alex the last few days. If my concerns were misguided, I could literally be pushing her into the arms of another man by constantly pissing her off. In my eyes, there was still some reasonable doubt to not storm out there hurling accusations.

But I also knew I couldn't just ignore this any longer, pretend nothing was happening. I decided that the best approach I could take would be to say nothing, but keep my eyes and ears open. If that dream had been real... they wouldn't straighten up and fly right. They would do it again. They would take another risk.

My uneasy stomach protested loudly, sounding like a forlorn whale cry that echoed my own despair. If it all turned out to be true, it would break me. Probably destroy me. I needed to cling to that hope that it was all a dream— that my insecurities made it all up and nothing more.

I needed confirmation. I would do some detective work.

I showered. The entire time, I felt disgusted. My eyes drawn to the glass wall. I could hear Alex's moans in my head. I could see that hot body of hers pushed against it while Brett mounted her, took her, and made me watch. Their bodies pressed to the glass, their moans fogging it up. The way that Brett had shot his enormous load of cum all over the glass, and the way my wife had dropped to her knees and lapped it up with her tongue, like a hungry dog. Her eyes half shut, her dark hair plastered to her face, her wide mouth accepting the taste of another man...

I glanced down and was shocked to find myself so hard that I was literally throbbing. The smears were still on the glass, and I imagined the sounds she made as she scooped that seed into her mouth with just her tongue.

I resisted the urge to reach down and stroke my hard cock, just from the mental image. Stop it, I told myself.

The shower cured my hangover... with some help from about five Ibuprofen and a cup of coffee.

Alex and Brett slept later than I would have thought, and it made me wonder. Eventually they got up and helped themselves to coffee.

Throughout the day, I kept a close eye on them. I wasn't confrontational or sulky. I was merely cautious.

But nothing about their behavior told me anything, one way or another. Somehow that only frustrated me more. I resolved that the next time I had a moment alone, I would use that time to rummage— for what, I wasn't sure. But I was going to comb through Brett's bags, or his phone, the bedroom, his car. Anything to find out more about this asshole. It was a long shot, since I wasn't sure how it might tell me anything about last night... but I needed to do something. I couldn't spend the rest of the week torturing myself.

The problem was that I never had any time alone. There was always somebody close by, even if I wanted my space for just a second, I could hear footsteps of my wife, or Brett, moving around.

It was tricky to tell anything by their behavior. If they had really hooked up last night under my nose, they weren't letting on. Alex was her usual self— friendly with Brett, making sarcastic quips and jokes. She was a little distant toward me. A guilty mind? Or still trying to make up for the shower incident?

Of course Brett was himself too— strutting around like the rooster who owned the hen house. Is that an expression? I feel like it's not, but the only thing I can think of when that guy is around is "cock". I wondered if Alex struggled with the same invasive thoughts.

Today, he was wearing even less than usual, even after his morning shower. I feel like each passing day, he was getting worse and worse with that. Today he was shirtless, with just a pair of gym shorts. I dreaded the moment that his manhood might appear, hanging from between his legs, and Alex would notice it, contemplate it, and my insecurities would begin again.

They talked, they joked, they flirted, they teased. Sometimes they included me, sometimes they didn't. While I stayed composed, I was going nuts. What happened last night!?! Tell me! I wanted to scream it.

By nightfall, I was growing antsy and impatient. While I'd normally despise the idea of putting Brett and my wife in a situation where they could be alone together, I needed some alone time to do my snooping.

There was only one area that they could be where they wouldn't really see or bother me. As we cleaned up after dinner, I suggested it.

"Do you guys want to go in the hot tub tonight?" I said.

Alex and Brett paused. Alex gave me a cockeyed smirk. "Ooh someone is being adventurous. I like that."

Brett's grin was showing. God, I hated him. "Are you sure about that, little buddy?" he said, and the jab wasn't totally lost on me. "You remember what happened the last time all of us shared a hot bath together?"

I frowned.

"He's kidding," Alex immediately rubbed my shoulder to help stave off any hostility I might have that could be bubbling to the surface. Was he kidding? How could she know that? She barely knew this guy.

"Well, there's only so much we can do around here," I shrugged. "And I can't stomach that much liquor again."

"Movie night was a little too intense for you?" Brett smirked, and traded a glance with my wife. Was Alex smirking? I couldn't tell. There was a little glint to her expression. A knowing expression?

Before I could reply, Alex said that she was into the hot tub idea. I didn't realize it then, but the idea of sitting in a bubbling pool of water with me and Brett was cause for a small eager thrill. In her head, she was flashing back to that day in the kitchen... me outside oblivious to their activities, while they were throwing each other up against the window, fucking behind my back, just asking to be caught...

"Are bathing suits optional?" Brett laughed, heading for the living room.

I blinked stupidly. "Umm... yeah, that's the point."

"Man, you need to loosen up. We've all already seen what each other has to offer. And to be honest, it's nothing impressive." Brett was lighthearted about the jab. Was that at both of us, or just me?

"You're a dick," Alex threw a dish towel at him as he sauntered out of the room. But regardless, she laughed. She found that sort of thing funny.

I helped my wife gather some snacks, water, and alcohol for an evening hanging out outside in the Jacuzzi. I wanted to make sure they were stocked. I didn't want to risk them coming and going much from the house if I was to be rummaging.

We had quite the picnic. As we carried it into the living room, Alex momentarily paused. "Oh wow," she said quietly.

Brett was in the process of changing into his bathing suit, right in the middle of the living room. He was completely stark naked, bent over as he retrieved his shorts from his bag.

I know Alex had seen it before. Even I had seen it before. But each time we both did, we were taken aback. His cock was swinging freely, almost down to his knees. A fire hose of dick. It might have been limp now, but if that monster woke up, there was no controlling it. It would go where it wanted to.

Alex let her smoky eyes linger on his package. I don't think either of us could believe he'd managed to fit that into my wife. It looked like he could barely fit it in his pants. It must have gone so deep...

"C-couldn't change in the bedroom?" I asked.

"My bed's out here," he nodded to the couch.

"It's nothing we haven't seen before, Sean," Alex said, though she never took his eyes off him, even as he slid his shorts on. They did very little to hide the outline of his member. His length stopped just short of the bottoms of his swim trunks.

Me and Alex stepped off to change. She'd left the door cracked, although Brett was busying himself setting up the hot tub.

I was having second thoughts as Alex produced her black and white striped bikini, stripped down to nothing, and started to slide it on. I remember the day she'd bought it, back when we'd planned this trip. She'd shown it off for me, giving me a naughty little fashion show. Now I was beginning to feel like it was no longer for my eyes. Maybe the hot tub suggestion was a terrible idea. I felt like I was watching her dress up for a date with another man.

No, no. Be strong, Sean, I told myself.

"Could you tie me?" She asked, gathering up her dark brown hair and holding it up, so I could get at the strings behind her neck. While I did, she stared out the bedroom door. Were her eyes seeking her new lover? And were her hands trembling? I detected just the faintest shake as she let her hair cascade down over her shoulders again.

Brett was already in the pool of bubbling water, by the time we stepped out onto the covered deck. The snow wasn't coming down any longer, but the air was crisp and frigid. Despite that, Alex opted to carry her towel over one shoulder instead of wrap it around herself. And did she just strut a little? A sexy little leg moment, complete with a side to side sashay of her hips, like a model on a runway.

Brett watched her saunter up to the tub. She dropped her towel, swept her hair back, letting it free fall over her shoulders, looking wild and untamable. Then she dipped her toe into the water and flicked some droplets at Brett's face. She giggled.

I had to endure this. I waited until Alex was in the water. She settled in with a sigh of pleasure, letting out an (almost sexual) moan. I paused at the edge, looking uneasy?

"Aren't you coming in, baby?" She asked me, sliding into a seat beside Brett to make room for me.

"Umm... in a minute," I said, feigning a stomach cramp. "I think I might need to hit the bathroom first." I laughed like I was embarrassed.

"Baby, you really shouldn't drink that much." Alex said.

I wouldn't be aware of this until much later when they'd tell me about it, but beneath the frothing water, their hands sought each other out almost immediately. My wife's hand found Brett's, and he pulled her toward his crotch. Her eyes widened, only barely, as she felt his solid unrestrained manhood. Brett wasn't wearing his swim trunks after all. He must have shed them before Alex climbed in.

Her hand settled on his cock and she started to stroke him, within seconds of entering the hot tub. Even while she talked to me, she was stroking him, feeling every inch of his muscle.

"No, I know. It might have been the food," I groaned a bit. Thankfully I didn't have to fake that. I'd had a stomach ache since the first night we were stuck here— due to anxiety, depression, and heartbreak. "I'm just... I'll be out in a few," I said, and retreated back to the patio door.

"Take your time," Brett called after me, and his fingers danced along the smooth submerged thighs of my athletic wife.

I hurried inside. The window shades that looked onto the back porch had been drawn hours ago— when the sun had gone down. I could snoop without them seeing. With my heart thundering in my chest, I ran and practically lunged at Brett's duffle bag of items.

***

Outside, no sooner had the patio door closed, than Brett and Alex lunged at each other. Alex threw her arms around Brett's powerful torso. He nearly tackled, her, pressing her back against the closest seat as he almost bowled her over. She had just enough time to gasp, "I can't stop thinking about you," before their lips found each other's and they started to feverishly kiss, making the most of their limited time, knowing full well that I could return at any moment.

***

In the living room, I heard a splash from outside, but gave it little thought. My stomach had butterflies, my hands shook, and my heart pounded loudly. I've snooped only a few times in my life, for different reasons. And the act of doing it brought about a rush like nothing else. I got tunnel vision. I became hyper focused on details, like the exact placement of Brett's bag, the arrangement of his items within— details that nobody would possibly remember, but I still honed in on. I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but there had to be something. Some sort of evidence to make my case that Brett was bad news, or that he and my wife were up to something. I had no idea that the real evidence was happening mere feet away from me. I never assumed that either of them would be so bold, so daring, and so desperately infatuated with each other.

***

Out in the cold, my wife's top came away free. They hadn't even broken their kiss as Brett managed to untie it, and peel it from her wet silky skin. Bubbles and water frothed between her perky tits, sloshing against their fast eager movements. Her nipples were kissed by the chilly night air and hardened quickly, pressing into Brett's hard manly chest. They worked together to shove her bottoms down her legs, and away into the boiling water. Then he was grabbing her bare ass, and drawing her into him. She threw her legs around his waist. In seconds, he was plunging into my wife's warm inviting body. Then they were making love at a frenzied pace.