Julien was the love of my life.
We met in college, by accident, bumping into each other at an apartment party. Two years later, we moved in together. Four years later, we had the wedding of my dreams on a beach.
He was the perfect husband, caring, doting. He remembered every anniversary, every birthday. We never fought.
And, yet, I worried. I didn't feel good enough for him, I worried that he was unsatisfied.
It started with the smallest of gestures: a vague smile, a missed phone call, a lingering glance in another direction. Doubt persisted in my head. I never caught him receiving any suspicious texts, never found any weird links in his internet browser history, never heard from the neighbors that they'd seen him with anybody else. I knew he loved me. Still, something nagged at me in the back of my mind. I felt like I was going insane, as if I were fabricating problems where none actually existed. This went on for months.
It was a Thursday when I came home early. I had finished work ahead of schedule, and I rushed home to take the rest of the day off. When I reached our front door, I saw Julien's shoes at the entrance. It wasn't out of the norm; he had often been coming home earlier than me in recent weeks, when he would have the place to himself.
I don't know if it was my intuition--up until that moment, I still wasn't sure if there really was something wrong between us--but I paused. Something felt different, but I couldn't figure out why.
So, I decided to enter without making any noise.
I stood there in the foyer, listening intently. The house was mostly quiet, but I thought I could hear some muffled sounds coming from upstairs: a thumping, almost rhythmic, like something bumping against the walls.
I stilled myself, straining my ears to hear. I couldn't tell if the thumping was still there--did I imagine it? I felt my heartbeat racing, thundering in my ears. Had I confused it for something else entirely?
I needed to know.
I snuck upstairs, taking care to stifle my footsteps, just in case. I didn't want him to know I'd already come home. As I ascended, the noises became more pronounced. I thought I heard a voice; adrenaline sped through my veins.
What if it really was him with someone else? My mind spun. I didn't want to think about it, but, deep down, I think I already knew. Some truths are universal, after all.
The door to our bedroom was slightly ajar.
I crept over to it and crouched down to listen. Hushed voices floated through the opening.
"--feels so good--fuck--right there--" "--can't hold back anymore--"
My heart sank.
I cracked the door open, just enough for me to see without anyone inside noticing.
There, on my bed--our bed--and facing away from the door, they were. My husband and some twink I didn't recognize.
I froze.
The twink was laying on his back, his legs spread, his knees held to his chest...by Julien.
They were fully undressed.
I could make out the pile of clothes by our closet, and the dim light illuminated the bottle of lube and condoms on our nightstand.
Fuck.
It felt like a knife was slowly pressing into my heart. The pain wasn't sharp or immediate; it was agonizing, a dullness that slowly spread from my chest throughout my body until I felt even my fingertips go numb.
I knelt there and watched my husband fuck the twink in missionary.
We hadn't had sex in weeks. Julien was always either too tired or just not in the mood, forever promising to make it up to me later; it felt as though the passion in our relationship was fading, slipping away like sands in an hourglass. He'd still say he loved me when he'd kiss me, yet, here he was, mounted atop someone else in the bed we shared, finally confirming the worst of my suspicions.
"I can't hold back anymore, I've wanted you for so long," Julien was saying.
From my vantage point, I could see everything. Julien shifted his weight so that he was on his knees and forearms atop the twink. It's a maneuver with which I'm intimately familiar, Julien's specialty, his favorite position because it gives him total control in fucking, in the amount of body weight he can impart into his thrusting, in making love.
He was making love to this twink.
"I've wanted to fuck you for so long," Julien cooed at him. "Every time I saw you, I knew you wanted me, but I just couldn't betray Andrew, I couldn't do that to him..."
At the sound of Julien saying my name, I felt mixed emotions. I knew something like this would happen eventually, I just didn't want to believe it. I was devastated. But I could forgive him, right? After all, every guy cheats. A man feels the urge to spread his seed. It's biological. At least he was wearing a condom. I could forgive him.
And, despite myself...I was unbearably hard. I'd never fantasized about being a cuck, but I didn't want to admit to myself that I was unfathomably turned on.
I don't know how to describe it. Every emotion pulled at me: fear, despondency, anger, arousal, excitement...
I was turned on by the smell of sex, the combination of Julien's natural musk, his cologne, the faint scent of the poppers that the twink must have needed to be able to take Julien's cock; the sound of fucking, the consistency in tempo as Julien slammed his pelvis against pussy, the wet slop of a fully lubricated hole being used; the sight of Julien's broad figure, dominating a twink, a Greek god in the midst of his revelry.
"Daddy," the twink moaned, "please, breed me."
No.
Oh no.
"Yeah? You want my load?" Julien slapped the twink's ass.
"Yes, Daddy, please," the twink whined, his voice needy.
"If we do this, we can't take it back," Julien said. "I'm going to want to breed you all the time."
No.
"Yes, please, Daddy...cum in me. Take it off."
Please.
Julien came to a stop and pulled out. As if in slow motion, as if time suddenly decided to draw itself out, to extend my torture, Julien's right hand went to his cock, slid the rubber off, and tossed it aside.
And, then, without hesitation, he slid himself back inside the twink, raw.
Not only was my husband making love to someone else, he was doing it bare, unprotected, with every intention of giving himself to him, just as he used to give himself to me.
I watched Julien deliberately prolong the fuck, as if for my sake, slowly thrusting himself in and out of his twink slut, dragging the lips of the twink's hole down the full length of his cock, milking every inch. I don't know how long I was there, transfixed. I don't know how much time passed by. I couldn't look away, despite the cold creeping into my chest, a lazy permafrost icing my heart--I was mesmerized, petrified. I needed to bear witness to what could potentially be the end of my marriage. With every stroke, I could hear the twink cry out, begging for more.
"Yeah? You love my cock, don't you?" Julien asked. He pulled out again, intentionally pausing, teasing, the tip of his cock positioned directly against the twink's hole, waiting for the feeling of emptiness to sharpen the twink's begging before plunging himself back into him. "Tell me how much you want it."
"Please, Daddy, give it to me, I want it so badly, I need you inside me," the twink babbled, pure gibberish.
"Good boy," Julien whispered into his ear. Once more, he was fully sheathed within this boy.
I wanted to stop it, I did, I really did. I wanted to jump out there and wrestle that slut away from my husband.
I didn't move.
I could tell Julien was getting close. He began to fuck deeper, faster. He set his back straight so that his hips could press further into the boy underneath him; he was milking himself with the twink's body like a fleshlight.
Julien began to tense. I knew he was feeling that swell within him, that pressure that was building in his abdomen. He was growling, speaking filth to the twink, losing command of his body to his most primal urges. I watched him bring his hands to the twink's neck, choking him as they kissed, as they made love in that dangerous limbo between life and death.
I knew what was about to happen. I couldn't look away.
"I'm going to cum," Julien said.
His thrusts intensified. I watched as he pounded away, causing the twink's eyes to roll backwards. Finally, with a cry, Julien pressed into the twink one last time before collapsing. He fell onto him, their bodies melting into each other's, two becoming one as Julien released himself into the twink. I watched my husband's cock twitch as he pumped load after load into someone else.
I felt something wet in my fingers.
I looked down, surprised. While I was distracted, focused only on what was happening inside my bedroom, my hand had slipped between my legs to hold my erection, and I had cum at the same time as Julien did.