My Husband the Whore: Part 1
The Discovery
As I sit here in this hotel room, on my way to drunk with the taste of champagne and chocolate cake in my mouth, I can?t seem to stop hearing what I heard nor seeing what I saw.
?Fuck, oh fuck. Lick Daddy?s hairy fuckin shithole, boy-slut? This exhortation is accompanied by the image of a mature man, his face hidden, but I can see his hands pulling apart his meaty asscheeks as a man hungrily rims the man?s ass crack and moans like a bitch in head. The ?rimmer?, the guy ravaging the older man?s asshole with his mouth and tongue, is my husband of 4 years.
I was so happy when my business trip to Seattle was cut short. We finalized the contract a day ahead of schedule. I wanted to celebrate, so I decided to surprise the love of my life by showing up early with his favorite bottle of champagne, a cake from our favorite bakery, and I hoped for a night of fucking ahead of us. Instead, I was the one surprised. I saw a strange car in our driveway, but didn?t think too much of it. Dan?s a counsellor and uses our home for his practice sometimes. When I entered the house, I did so quietly, thinking he might be in a session. But what I heard wasn?t the sound of a counsellor listening patiently to a client who was disclosing his thoughts. What I heard is things I have never heard two men say to each other during sex.
?Oh Daddy, your sweaty cumhole tastes so good?
Yeah. This is what I heard my husband say as another man spread his butt in his face and moaned.
I looked through the crack in the open bedroom door. I didn?t barge in and ask what the fuck was going on. The reality was too unreal. I couldn?t really believe I was seeing what was I was seeing. I was too winded to speak. I had to leave, and I left without them hearing me. They were too loud, too engrossed in their asshole sucking fantasy world to notice me coming or going. I didn?t exist for them in their moment.
I even sat in my car in the driveway for a few minutes undisturbed. I left, cruising the highway for an hour or so until I decided to check in to the local Hilton.
In my room, I stripped off my clothes. Uncharacteristically for me, a neat freak, I stripped and left my expensive suit on a heap on the floor. I just didn?t care and I wanted to be naked. I had long been a nudist, but in past years I had hidden that more and more and only stripped to release stress. It was my coping mechanism, and I enjoy my nudity. But normally I would hang up my clothes. Not today though, today I don?t give a shit, today is not a normal day.
I popped the cork on the lukewarm champagne and I took swig after swig until I drank too much coughed up the fizzy wine. Lying back on the bed, my head sinking into the pillows and closing my eyes, I could see the back of my husband?s head bobbing around the other man?s ass. I could hear his guttural choking sounds, the noisy slurps of his wet tongue on the man?s asshole. He really sounded like an animal, like he was rabid and hadn?t eaten for days. I hadn?t seen that kind of passion from my husband in two years.
Since my promotion to national director of procurement, I had been travelling a lot. I earned more money, but spent more time at work or on the road. Sex with my husband became rarer and rarer. I assumed he was masturbating. A few times we had phone sex when I was travelling. But I became more and more tired as I got deeper into my role. I needed less sex, although when I did need it and was travelling, I devoted entire nights to jacking off, foregoing sleep, but then the need would subside for a few months once again.
Never did I imagine my husband would seek sex outside our marriage. I thought that, like me, jerking off was enough. Not sure what I was thinking I guess, he?s a sexy man and for the first two years of our marriage we had sex three or four times a week. We would do everything, we were very adventurous, but it was always between us. A few times we went to the nude beach or to nude parties and gay bars, but we were always there hand in hand. We would kiss and grope each other, we knew we were turning on other guys, and that was fun, but we never invited them to play with us. I loved owning him in public and I loved being owned by him. A couple of times we let other men watch us playing with each other in the toilets, but again, we never sought sex outside our marriage.
And now I have the image of my husband, his face, his blue eyes and his thick handlebar moustache shoved against the asshole of another man. My heart bursts with love for my husband, and at this moment his face smells like another man, his moustache which I loved, which I loved to soak with my own cum and piss, now that stache probably smells like another man?s butthole. And the fact that he wanted that, the he sought that out, floors me.
Exhausted by the long day, I fell asleep. I woke up sometime later with my cell phone ringing. It took me a minute to get out of bed and to find my phone. When I did, the call had gone into voicemail. It was Dan.
?Hi Babe. Just checking in. I know you are probably wheeling and dealing. But I miss you. Hope you?ll be home on Saturday like you said. Anyway, give me a call. If I don?t answer right away, I have a couple of sessions lined up. Some last minute crises. Love you?
I can?t help it. His voice makes me hard. His deep voice, his masculine face, his hairy body. I start stroking my cock as I listen to his message.
As I stroke my meat, I get so hard and excited I get ready to shoot as I imagine the smell of another man?s ass on his moustache. I hear the moans I heard when his face was up another man?s ass, a man he called ?Daddy? as he sucked his asshole.
With that thought I shot a huge spray of cum over my hairy belly, almost hitting my throat and goatee. I fall asleep immediately in a post-orgasmic haze of lust and confusion.