I Make Believe I'm a Cuckold Ch. 02

This is the sequel to I Make Believe I'm a Cuckold. You should read that first. This chapter is dedicated to David, whose female coworker treats him the way he deserves.

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Before our trip to Denver last week Nancy, with whom I frequently traveled, had always treated me with respect. On the road, things got very informal, and we talked at length about our lives. We treated each other more as friends than as co-workers. Back in the office, it reverted to the appropriate degree of formality, with no silliness or kidding around.

It helped keep everything where it belonged that Nancy and I had not ever been physically attracted to each other. I was a soft, older man who sat down all day, whereas she liked fitter, younger men. Nobody ever used my name and the word "ripped" in the same sentence. I carried a few extra pounds and my hairline was losing the battle with time.

For my part, I found Nancy's face pleasant enough without being "pretty", but she also could have lost a few pounds. Nancy was lucky that her extra meat was all in her chest and rear-end, so she was very curvy. Many men liked that, but she was far from my "ideal woman."

My perfect woman looked more like my elegant wife, Sally. She was quite thin with small breasts and no real buttocks at all. When I wasn't on the road Sally and I slept in separate rooms. She valued her privacy, and we had sexual relations infrequently.

When we did, Sally usually refused intercourse. I struggled with ED and premature ejaculation, so Sally preferred cunnilingus. She would come to my bedroom my first night home from a trip and strip my pajamas off. Her favored sexual activity involved me completely naked while she retained her nightgown. Once my pajama trousers were off Sally would kiss my stomach once, tenderly, and then climb into the bed. With no further contact, she would climb up over my chest, plant her crotch on my mouth with her back towards my feet, and force me to eat her pussy. Sally would never use the word "pussy." She said that was a vulgar, misogynist word and she told me to "take care of my hole."

Other times my wife might call me to her bedroom. On these nights Sally preferred to recline on her back, and I would lie face down on the bed between her legs with my head at her pelvis. As she fed me from her hairless, well-waxed crotch she would draw tight her arms and legs, firmly snugging my face against her vulva. I loved the feeling of being wrapped tightly in her long thin arms and legs. It was like being embraced by a spider.

She was very responsive, giving me lots of verbal encouragement. She wasn't comfortable with dirty words, so she used phrases like "clean me" instead of "lick me". "I feel better after you clean my hole, Donald," she'd say. I didn't mind; I don't know why she thought she was dirty down there.

I am even shyer and more reserved in bed than I am on my feet, so I would be mostly silent. Also, my mouth was always busy, and Sally's never was.

Because we rarely ever had penetrative sex, my wife would talk about imaginary lovers. She'd started relating these "naughty" sex fantasy stories ever since our honeymoon. That was, of course, the first night she and I ever had sexual congress, and even then she mumbled about an imaginary encounter with her ex-boyfriend. I was completely bored by these stories most of the time because they were so repetitive. If the sexual fantasies pleased her, I had no objection if she joked about making love to the guy who lived next door. Sally was so uptight about sex and so proper about her behavior that it was impossible to take seriously the idea of her behaving wantonly.

So my wife might say dreamily, as I ate her, "That's Mike you're tasting," if she fantasized having enjoyed real sex with a fictional man named Mike. I was lucky that she had vivid fantasies about imaginary lovers. I know she had to compensate with vivid sexual fantasies for our very infrequent penetrative successes. Her imaginary men gave her exciting things to talk about while I nibbled her delicate clitoris, or lapped with long strokes between her labia.

I was also lucky that we were so faithful to each other. She would never dishonor her marital vows, and until recently I wouldn't, either. Sally was so prim and proper, so uptight, that the thought of her with any other man was just inconceivable. In fact, she barely knew any men outside our home, so for the names of her many fantasy lovers she drew on the names of my male colleagues.

***

I'd always enjoyed road trips with Nancy. Due to our work and travel schedules, we generally breakfasted together at the hotel, went our separate ways in the field office we were visiting during the day, then had a light supper together back at the hotel. She was a good conversationalist, which I needed because I tend to be quiet and reserved if unstimulated. A divorcee, she enjoyed even my tepid company more than a dinner alone.

The last several trips, however, had been different. On the road, Nancy was pretty much a slut, looking forward to hooking up with a man in each city we visited. Her husband had cheated on her before the divorce, and she told me "I've got some catching up to do, Don."

I was the stereotypical straight arrow, never misbehaving, and phoning Sally from the road almost every night. After supper, my idea of fun is to go back to my room to read, relax, call home, and watch a little Internet porn, which my wife forbids me at home. Nancy, meanwhile, would hit a club or bar and look for some stiff cock to help her make it through the night. She had been discreet about this in the beginning, and I'd barely noticed.

But about a year ago she began to involve me as her wingman. Well, that's not exactly the right word, but I can't think of a better one. I was more like a stage prop. Nancy wanted to attract men who wanted to bed married women. She had what I now know is called a cuckold fantasy. If I role-played the part of her oblivious husband, these guys would approach us and try to take her away from me. It required nothing improper from me, nothing to which my dear wife back home would object. And she got the "thrill" of pretending with the new man that she was a wanton wife humiliating her spineless husband.

Playing the role of an inattentive, disinterested husband was pretty easy; all I had to do was sit there paying attention to my phone, ignoring her. Sooner or later, usually sooner, a guy in the room would sense the horny neglected woman across the room and approach her. That Nancy was working hard to send out signals of her availability made it work even if the other guy wasn't very alert.

This was all working fine for her, and costing me nothing, until our last trip, to Denver. Nancy drew me into the room in which she was pretending to cuckold me, then involved me sexually in a manner that I'm deeply ashamed of. First of all, I never should have dishonored my wife by becoming undressed and performing a sex act with Nancy. But worse, she and the man who thought he was cuckolding me engaged me in a depraved act of homosexuality. I have felt unclean ever since and constantly question my masculinity.

***

As I was packing my bags last weekend for this current trip to the Seattle office, my wife was unusually attentive and involved. Sally told me that she had spoken to Nancy several times in the last few days to discuss my itinerary and site visit schedule. I kind of liked it that Nancy and Sally had become friends. Sally didn't have many female friends of which I was aware, so Nancy was a nice addition to Sally's world.

Nancy, of course, was the keeper of my big secret shame - my disgusting sodomy activities that last night in Denver. It seemed to me that if my wife and coworker were friends, Nancy would keep things under wraps to protect all three of us.

The night before my departure, my wife was helping me select suits and ties, which she'd never done before. She made some thoughtful remarks about my work, such as "I know you and Nancy are going to be a big success in Seattle, darling," which was a lovely encouragement but not like the Sally I know.

"I know the people you meet with will be impressed by your performance, Darling. I'm sure you'll work hard to please everyone."

Then, surprisingly, she leaned over and gave me a quick peck on my lips. "I want you to think about me at night, little man, so let's pack this frilly negligee of mine to take with you. When you're thinking of me at night, or while we're on the phone, you can have it in your bed next to you and I'll seem not so far away." That was the sweetest thing Sally had said to me in years!

Monday morning I woke up early and slipped away without waking Sally, down the hall in her bedroom. When I met Nancy at the airport departure gate I told her that Sally had been very encouraging last night of our efforts to come in Seattle. Needless to say, I didn't say anything to Nancy about Sally's "parting gift" of her lacy nightgown!

Nancy was very interested in Sally's remarks and asked me to repeat them. It was nice that Nancy was so supportive of my relationship with my wife, especially now that she and I had misbehaved so sinfully. Nancy smiled happily when I told her that Sally was sure we'd leave the people we worked with in Seattle satisfied with our performance. "That's my plan, Don, that's my plan," Nancy said.

"I'm going to miss my wife more now than ever, Nancy, and that's partly your fault for humiliating me in Denver. Because I let her down and dishonored my vows, I hate to leave her alone this week."

"It's going to be OK, Don. Don't worry about Sally. I told people in the office to keep in touch with her while we're away. Pete Malone told me to tell her that he'd be available anytime for anything she might need. She was happy to hear that."

Despite the depraved sexual conduct Nancy and I had engaged in when we were in Denver, I felt strangely relaxed in her presence most of the time since. In fact, it was only on the plane that I once again felt physically uncomfortable.

We were side by side in those skinny airline seats, and there seemed to be no way to avoid touching each other. The armrest, for example, could only host one arm or the other, and when my arm was up I found my elbow was gently rubbing the side of Nancy's breast. Neither of us was skinny, and our thighs rubbed together. Once or twice, well, more than that, Nancy would let her hand wander off of her thigh and rest lightly on mine.

I wriggled around a bit, but Nancy told me not to squirm. "After all, we're husband and wife now, aren't we?" she whispered. So now "Slut & Cuck," the game we had previously only played in restaurants and bars, was on 24/7!

It would be a long flight. I didn't imagine that anything could come of it, but Nancy made sure everyone around us thought we were a married couple. When the drinks were served, for example, Nancy loudly proclaimed to the attendant that "My husband would like a ginger ale." She also stroked my arm and thigh frequently, which kept my modest dick half-hard for hours as we crossed the country. When she wanted a nap she actually put my arm around her shoulders and snuggled her head on my shoulder.

As we waited for our bags upon arrival, I quietly asked Nancy why she was behaving this way, so touchy-feely. She told me that it was important to her not only that other people think we're married, but that she wanted me to feel a little bit like we were a real couple. "It will make the whole cucky thing better later, Donny, if *you* feel like a cuckold." She only ever called me "Donny" when we were playing her game, and I accepted that Nancy and I would be a cuckold couple pretty much non-stop for the next four days.

The first big adjustment came when we arrived at the Home Suites Hotel. Nancy wheeled her roll-aboard into my room with me and told me that we would be sharing the room. "We have to pay for two rooms on our travel expense papers but you and I are going to pretend to be married the whole time."

"That's nuts," I exploded. "You know Sally will kill me if she finds out what we're doing together."

"Who's going to tell her, Don? Not me, and not you. And don't get any ideas in your head, either. We're going to be like a brother and sister in this room. You've never even flirted with me. We're roommates, that's all, until I say otherwise. I have no interest in that little worm between your legs that Sally has to pretend to settle for."

That stung, and I fell silent. But a strange thought occurred to me: as long as Nancy treated me badly, there was little chance we'd fall into each other's arms. Maybe this would be OK. She really wasn't trying to seduce me, after all. It was all those *other* guys out there that she was performing for. I just had to pretend we were a long-married couple with no real sex life. A lot like my real life, I thought.

While I watched TV in the sitting room Nancy showered and changed clothes in the bedroom, behind closed doors. Then I did the same thing while she waited. Soon she had taken my arm and led me to dinner downstairs, a big smile suddenly on her face.

And dinner was all we had our first night in town. Nancy didn't even try to attract another man Monday night. We went back to our room, modestly changed clothes, and sexlessly climbed into our separate queen beds. Nancy said "Just like home huh? No sex."

I told her that it really wasn't like home because I wasn't used to sharing a bedroom; Sally had her own. Nancy said, "I'll bet she does."

I wasn't sure what Nancy meant, but my body was on Eastern Time and I wanted to go to sleep. Suddenly I remembered that I would normally phone my wife at night after dinner. I went to the dresser for my phone, and when I told Nancy I was going to phone home she got out of bed herself and went into the sitting room "to give you some privacy."

Sally answered on the third ring and told me she was in bed, waiting for my call. Before I could say very much about my day she told me she wanted to switch over to FaceTime so we could see each other. We spoke a bit about the flight and the famous bad weather here in Seattle. Sally noted that I was in my pajamas already, and I reminded her that although the clocks here said only 8:00, I had some jet lag and was ready for bed.

Sally then said, "Before we turn in I want to see you with my nightie, the one I packed for you." I checked to make sure the door was closed, then fetched the negligee from my suitcase and sat back down. I tried to hold the phone so that Sally had a good shot of me and the nightie, but we couldn't get it quite right. I propped my phone on the night table leaning on the lamp. With verbal instructions from Sally, I finally got myself "on camera" with the nightgown.

Sally asked me to bunch it up and bury my face in it and then asked me to kiss it "pretending it's me," Finally, Sally told me to put it on and model it for her.

We'd never done anything like this at home, so I was at a loss to understand which one of us was supposed to find this exciting. But when I pulled it over my head and fastened the front snaps, I felt the faint stirrings of an erection.

Sally quickly laughed at me and said that I needed to take my own pajamas off and wear her nightie over my bare skin. Glancing again at the closed door to be really sure I was alone, I did so. The delicate material teased the nipples of my manboobs and the tip of my erection as I first stood, then twirled slowly in front of the camera. I felt both ashamed and excited at the same time. I couldn't see the camera screen very well at this distance, but I was right in front of the bedroom mirror. I almost forgot I was performing for my wife as I gazed at the man in the mirror wearing sexy ladies' underwear.

I heard a man laughing in the background. I looked with surprise at the phone and asked Sally if there was someone there with her. She calmed me down by telling me it was the TV set in the far corner of her bedroom, and that she'd been watching a comedy show when I called. It was almost midnight there, she said, how in the world could anyone else be there?

She made me promise to wear the nightgown to bed when I slept. I hesitated only a second. I couldn't possibly do that, of course, with Nancy sharing my bedroom, but I couldn't tell Sally that I had a roommate! So I lied to her and promised I would. She tossed me an air kiss and hung up.

The second Sally and I terminated our call, before I could get back into my pajamas, Nancy came through the door without knocking. I stood, frozen, humiliated, almost naked.

Nancy told me "I heard most of your call, Don. I know Sally wants you to wear her nightie. I think that's very romantic. Spin around for me. Let me see you.

When I moved, the delicate material of the negligee lightly brushed across the tip of my erect penis. It wasn't very long, but it stuck out just far enough to make contact with the nightie. Nancy reached down and reached under the hem to fondle my cock for just two or three seconds. "Look at this little thing, Donny. It's so happy to be in ladies' underwear. I can't get over it." Then, after she patted my cheek very lightly she said: "Let's get in our beds now."

And so Nancy, wearing baggy, shapeless, sexless pajamas, climbed into her bed while I, naked, sporting a see-through lacy women's nightgown and a rare firm erection, climbed into mine.

Just before I drifted off, Nancy said softly to me "Don't you dare play with yourself, you dirty worm. You're going to need that little cock of yours tomorrow. It better not be empty."

***

Our first morning in Seattle was strangely normal, other than me waking up in the same room as Nancy, and wearing my wife Sally's gauzy nightgown. Strangely normal. We washed, brushed, dressed, and were soon having breakfast downstairs. Nancy's strategy was working. By keeping the role-playing constant, I felt more like we were a real couple.

It even seemed unremarkable when she reached over and took one of my hands into hers. "Listen, here's what we're going to do here. I like pretending you're my husband in the evenings, but we can't really do that during the day when we're in the Field Office. What we *can* be, however, are lovers."

"You lost me," I said.

"Today, in the office, we're two colleagues from the Main Office, one married, having an affair on travel. Happens all the time, right? We're cheating on the road. Happens a lot. I want to save the husband-wife play for after work, with strangers. These people today are our co-workers, and there's no way we can fake them as a married couple. OK?"

Once again, Nancy had my head spinning. So, when the sun is up I'm her married boss, cheating on my wife, and at night I'm her cuckold, and she's cheating on me? I just hope I can keep my lines straight.

Nancy's phone vibrated, and she exchanged a couple of text messages while I signaled for the checks. She had a faraway look on her face and I asked what was up. "Oh, it's just some office stuff. Pete Malone is taking a personal day today, and one of the other guys on the team wanted me to know they'd be a man short today."

"I'm sorry, is Pete sick?"

"Hah," Nancy exclaimed. "Not even. According to the text, Pete had a wild date last night and didn't get any sleep until the slut wore him out at 5:00 am. He's home recovering!"

I laughed politely. Pete had a well-deserved reputation as a poon hound. Making love all night long was a concept so foreign to me that I couldn't really wrap my mind around it. I wondered who the lucky woman was. Then I wondered why I thought the woman was lucky, not Pete. Was I starting to want men? Nancy snapped me back to the present.