Penelope 2

We've been married fourteen years Pen and I. I'm Oscar, Oscar Whitman, age thirty-six, I tape in at five-six and one-forty. Penelope, my wife, also thirty-six, comes in at around five-nine, one-twenty-five. Oh, and she's a very nice looking lady with some really nice female equipment: 36Cs and a truly sensational butt. Until today our lives have been pretty typical, mundane, routine: the stereotypical middle class couple. None of which, I'm discovering, are good things and maybe not normal either.

Pen is a stay at home wife, and no, we have no children. Me, I'm the head mechanic at Studstill Motors. Basically, I make sure that the used cars we take in in trade are up to legal snuff for purposes of resale. The pay is pretty good, and Penelope and I are doing fine in an era when not everybody is.

At any rate, the above being true, Penelope has decided we need to spice things up. Her method of spicing things up? She is dictating, yes dictating, an open marriage. Well, actually, that's not exactly right. She means open for her. Me? I'm to be ready to service her and her lovers on command. She is of the opinion that me watching other men do her will be thrilling for me.

What reason does she have for believing such a thing? That I would knuckle under to such a mandate? Maybe the fact that I have always given in to her. Maybe the fact that some of our late night fantasy talk has revolved around her cuckolding me, or her being the top in a role reversal relationship. Whatever it is, she's assuming, while I sit here with my head in my hands, some might say with my head up my ass, terrified that I may be losing my wife, my marriage, that I will knuckle under and do whatever she says.

"Calm down, Oscar, it won't be as bad as you think. Knowing your proclivities as I do, I am pretty sure you'll be getting off every bit as much as I do, at least in time," said my wife.

"Penelope Whitman, you can't be serious about all of this. I cannot accept being treated this way, not and claim to be a man!" I said.

"Oh pooh! You mean a macho asshole. Macho has no place in this house, Oscar, it never has, and you know it. We'll be having more and better sex than we ever had. And, I mean for you too. Just different is all," she said.

"You really intend to do this, to cuckold me. To make me a laughing stock, Penelope, don't you. What kind of a wife would do this to her husband? What kind, Pen?" I said.

"The kind that wants to put the thrill back in the sex life of a husband and wife," she said. "And, you won't be any laughing stock. No one but you, me, and Bill will ever know. Oscar, it's decided. Now, Bill will be here at seven. This one time, if you wish, you may go out and do your own thing while I am letting him do me. I'll text you when he's gone, so you'll know when to return.

"Or Oscar, If you're man enough, my husband, you can stay and watch it happen to you, your cuckolding I mean. Still, like I say, this time it'll be your choice," she said. "But, Oscar, if you do decide to watch, I need to know by, say, 4:00PM in order to prepare you for your duties. Okay?" I nodded. I began to get emotional in frustration. I was close to actually crying. I guess I was almost as big a wimp as she for sure thought me.

"Now, stop that, right now," she said, noticing my emotional state. It will be my job to make sure you enjoy this as much as Bill and me. Okay?" Her last words were delivered in a kindly tone; but they did little to calm me.

What was happening to me? Why couldn't I just say no and tell her to get real? Being honest with myself, and I hadn't been up to this point, her ideas were a turn on. That said, they, her ideas, were also terrifying. With my undersized dick, not to mention the rest of my body; and, my insecurities when it came to relating to women in general; I was sure that I was on the verge of losing both the respect of my wife and my self-respect, Penelope's reassurances notwithstanding.

By 4:00PM she'd said; I had to decide by 4:00PM. I looked up at the wall clock. It read noon. That gave me four hours before I had to make a choice. I watched through the kitchen's bay window as she left for her appointment at the salon. I knew she was having lunch with somebody; I wondered if it were Bill.

******

Her gone to her luncheon and salon appointment, I busied myself doing things on the computer. I'd suddenly and finally grown some balls. Her attitude was both killing my heart and making me angry, angry at the both of them. I just didn't have the guts to call her on it. So, what was I going to do about it. I was going to protect myself in case this was nothing more than a prelude to getting rid of me. I might be a pussywhipped wimp, but I was by no means a complete idiot. True I was on the verge of crying my eyes out, but what I didn't want to see happen was the two of them laughing at me as she dumped me.

Her notion of how to spice up a marriage notwithstanding, Again, I intended to not be a complete fool and just let the destruction of my marriage, if it did indeed came to that, destroy me along with it. My becoming a cuckold might be inevitable, but my economic ruination was not. I had to do something just in case. I headed for my little in-house office; the computer would be my friend. It would be the tool I would sue to set up my economic defenses in case the worst case scenario happened to me.

******

I heard the garage door opener operating; she was home. The door to the kitchen slammed.

"Oscar, can you help me please," she called out.

I came into the kitchen and saw her carrying a load of groceries; the salon had done their job: she was gorgeous, just not for me. I went to her and relieved her of her burden. "Any more in the car?" I said. "Oh, and you look beautiful. Your lover is going to be very pleased. I just wish it was for me." I said this last kind of quietly, but she heard me anyway.

"Oscar! Stop it now. It is for you. You could, should, and I hope will be the guest of honor tonight, not Bill. You're the one who will become a cuckold, my personal cucky; and that's a good thing! And I intend to make sure you are a very pampered cuckold. Okay?" she said.

"And yes, there are more groceries in the car, if you will," she said. "I need to go freshen up. We'll talk in a few minutes." She gave me a frustrated look and headed for the bathroom; I headed for the car.

I was just about finished putting the groceries away when she came back into the kitchen. She sat down and waited for me to do or say something. It was my play.

"I'm gonna be there," I said. "I'm gonna watch, and hopefully just watch. Okay?" I said. She looked down. She seemed to have lost a bit of the confidence that she had displayed earlier in the day.

"Oscar, if you're going to be here. No, it's not all right for you to just watch. At lunch, well, Bill made the decision that if you are going to be a cuckold; you're really going to be one. You will need to serve us, and service us. Please understand, it's part of it, part of you learning your place, your new place in the scheme of things." Well, now I knew who she'd had lunch with.

"Oscar, it is your fantasy after all. You don't have to be here. But, if you are..." she said. I nodded. I sighed.

"Okay, I guess. I can always run away if I can't handle it. Right?" I said, trying to lighten the moment a little. She just smiled benevolently. "What do I have to do?"

"Follow me," she said. He headed for the guest room down the first floor hall. There were clothes hanging on the closet door hook.

"Put these on," she said.

It was a suit—no—a tuxedo: bow tie and tails, the whole ball of wax. "What? A tux! I can't wear a tux, honey. Please, not a damn tux, okay?" I said.

"Bill requires it, baby. Don't worry, you're going to get a really good reward if you can just hang in there. Okay?" I was not happy. I wasn't afraid anymore, and I had been. I was humiliated.

******

I answered the door, and he looked me up and down. He didn't laugh. But, he did approve. That to me was worse than outright laughter. I was to be his servant for the evening, and he approved of me. I was his servant for the evening as Pen informed me, and I was to remain silent unless spoken to. I was soon to discover that good 'ole Bill had plans for me.

The party began in the living room where the two of them had drinks, served by me, and made out like a couple of teenagers on the couch. It was hot; I had to give them that. I stood near the couch in my tuxedo and bow tie, maybe five or six feet away; I had a small serving towel hung over my forearm. I had been told by Penelope to just relax and enjoy the show for a while.

Bill stopped feeling her up for a moment and reached under her dress and began slowly pulling her panties down; she raised up a little so he could slide them off of her. They resumed their kissing and feeling each over up, but now his hand was under her dress and he was obviously finger fucking her; she yelped a couple of times when he got a little too macho with her.

They stood up. Pen turned and looked at me, and then came to me. "You okay, Oscar? I want you to be okay," she said.

"I'm okay, honey, it's just, a little new to me. I'll be okay," I said. She nodded, smiled at me, and gave me a peck on the cheek. The look on Bill's face when she kissed me, even though only a peck, was not friendly. I felt kind of good about that.

They began stripping each other's clothes off, slowly. Finally naked, they stood, in front of me embracing. Their hands roamed everywhere within reach. I could see his finger penetrate her anus; she just smiled at him; Pulling his finger out of her, he sucked it—his finger.

"Ah sweet," he said, and laughed. "Her poop is like candy to me. You ever get any of that?" he said, looking straight at me. He left her standing naked where she was and came to me. He pushed his finger into my mouth. I almost gagged. It was a direct insult. Now, it was Penelope's turn to be not happy; he saw it in her eyes, relented, and moved back to her to avoid any unpleasantness from her disapproval of the way he had treated me. He led her to the couch and coaxed her into a kneeling position with her butt stuck out towards him.

He knelt behind her and began licking and sucking every part of her. I envied him to a degree I had never envied anyone or anything. He whispered something to her, and she spread her knees wide with her butt even more exposed to him than it had been. All of her charms were visible to the both of us.

She was clearly soaking wet. He aimed the head of his eight-inch cock against her slit and pushed. He pulled out a little and pushed in again, a little farther this time. Finally he drove himself into her. He began screwing her slowly then faster then furiously. Her moans told of the pleasure she was experiencing with his larger than mine cock. Ironically, I was as hard myself as I had ever been. That said, I was more than nervous about the entire scene.

After some minutes, she shuddered and came and came and came. He collapsed across her back breathing hard. He rolled to his left and sat spread-legged on the couch. She slowly rose from her kneeling position and fell to her knees in front of him.

She reached forward and took hold of his cock. Leaning in she began sucking it to life; I could see him alternately jerking and shuddering as she tortured his penis. I was still fully dressed and needing relief myself and that in the most desperate of ways. God how I envied him. She stopped sucking, as he seemed ready to cum, and lay down flat on the floor, legs spread wide for him. He started to mount her and stopped.

He looked at me for a moment. "You're a cuckold now, Oscar boy, take your pants off," he said. I looked at him. His words, his tone more than anything he'd done so far, stung me and awakened a resentment in me, a resentment that had been building in me all day.

"No," I said. "I don't want to. I don't even want to be here anymore. I don't want to take my pants off."

"Just do it cucky," he said. "You have no choice." I could see Penelope suddenly take an interest in the proceedings.

"Leave him alone, Bill, this is all new to him. He doesn't have to take his pants off if he doesn't want to," she said.

"Yes he does. You and I have talked about this. Once he was cuckolded he was to lose all of his husbandly rights," said Bill.

"And I said leave him alone, and I meant it," she said. "If you want to do me, then do me. Otherwise you can go home." He didn't look happy, but he refocused and mounted her. Twenty minutes later he was dressing and didn't waste any time in doing it. He was obviously not in a real good mood, a fact that bothered me not at all.

The door had hardly closed behind him before she came to me. "Come on big boy; it's time for your reward,"

Even with him gone, I felt a little down about all that went on. I felt that way mainly on account of Bill's attitude and the things he'd said about me losing my husbandly rights. But, evidently he had misunderstood my wife's willingness to deny me: I was about to be rewarded and that sexually.

I was so horny I would have done anything for her just to get a kiss, let alone a "reward." I needed relief. I put Bill on the back burner. My wife and I would be talking about him and his attitude a little later, maybe much later.

I followed her naked form up the stairs to our room. I was grateful for the small favor that at least Bill had not been allowed in there. The living room was one thing our bedroom and our bed were, if not exactly sacred, at least pretty important to me.

I was already shucking my clothes as we entered the room. "God I'm horny," I said. "I can't wait to get inside of you, sloppy seconds or not." She was standing by the bed about to lie down when she stopped.

"Oscar?" she said.

"Yes, yes, I know. You're rewarding me," I said, smiling big time.

"Well, yes, you are getting a reward, my husband. But..."

"But?" I said.

"But, Oscar, you're a cuckold now. I'm afraid you are not allowed to screw me. That isn't what you thought was it? I mean I thought you knew what a cuckold's place was, a cuckold's duty was," she said.

"Huh? What? I can't have you?" I said. I was already down to my underwear and now I stood transfixed by her words. She'd said them almost sadly.

"Oscar, your reward is to eat me. You know clean me up good and proper. I mean with your mouth. You know like in some of your fantasies and those stories you showed me. A cuck can't have real sex," she said. "It's the way things need to be." I couldn't talk; I couldn't move. My cock, hard as a rock a moment before, shrank like a pair of unsanforized jeans in the laundromat's hot cycle. She noticed.

"Oh my, you did think we were going to screw didn't you. Oscar, you're going to love how I treat you, really. Come on my good man, do your duty," she said, smiling broadly, like she was doing me a favor. She laid down and spread herself wide for me to do her with my mouth.

"I can't," I said. "I have to go. I have to go out. I mean, oh, I don't know what I mean." She stared at me. I think she was disbelieving. I picked up my clothes from the floor and began to dress. I was tying my shoes by the time she got off the bed and came to me.

"Honey, what are you doing? You knew what your duties would be. We've talked about them. I don't want to ruin your evening, Oscar, I want to make it good for you. Please let me. Okay?" I finished tying my shoes and stood up."

"Oscar come on, please. I just need you to, you know, be part of the goings on. I need you to be my good little man, my cuckold. Like we talked about," she said. I looked her in the eye.

"No sex for me?" I said. "None?"

"Oscar, just no intercourse. It's a cuckold's lot. I know you know that," she said.

"Now, come on over here and do your duty. I am filled with his cum, and you need to get it out of me. Come on, now. I mean it," she said. She'd moved back to the bed and laid down on it: legs spread wide and waiting. I looked at her.

"No," I said. "I'm leaving." I grabbed my jacket and my keys and wallet and left. I didn't even look back. I had a lot to think about.

"Oscar! No! Wait!" she called after my retreating figure.

******

I was sick to my stomach. I needed my woman, but not like this. No sex for me. No sex ever? I wasn't going for it. I couldn't go for it. I needed it. Cuckold or not, I needed to be able to fuck my wife whenever I wanted to, and that was the long and the short of it. But, what if only half a loaf was all I could ever get? Should I throw even that away? It wasn't like women were lining up to get me in their beds.

I drove around for some time. I was sitting at a traffic light when I looked to my left and saw a Travelodge. I needed to sleep and decided that this would be the place.

The sun was my alarm clock. The shower worked pretty good, and the water was scalding hot, just what I needed. I hadn't packed any clothes. At work I had what everybody called our fatigues. I'd be getting those the day after tomorrow, Monday, when I went to work; but I needed some stuff now if I were going to be staying out, out from my house, regardless of how long that might end up being.

I headed for K-Mart. Cheap would work, at least in the short run. I parked and went inside looking for the men's section. Odd, but as many times as I'd been in the place, and that to buy clothes, I didn't know where the men's wear was; Pen had always taken me by the arm and led me to where she would essentially dress me for the next many months. I guess I had never paid attention, knowing as I did that I would have no say in whatever she picked out for me in any event.

I asked two floor people where to find what I needed, and soon found myself hunting for my needs through the various racks. A woman behind me, said, "Try these on," and handed me a pair of shorts. I turned to thank her and stopped cold in my tracks.

"Penelope!" I said.

"I was driving around looking for you and I saw you come in here." she said.

"I ain't going back, Pen. I can't deal with the rules you and that asshole have set up for me. But, I'll take the shorts if you think they'd look okay on me," I said.

"They will look fine on you, and you are coming back with me, Oscar. You need me, and I need you. We'll talk about what you want and need in terms of the other thing when we get home. Okay?" she said. Her last words were uttered in an almost a pleading tone. I looked at her for a long moment; I was not smiling.

"I'm not going back if there is no screwing you, and I mean by me. I mean it," I said. "And, no limits. You okay with all of that?" Her turn to stare at me. She nodded in the affirmative.

"Yes, I guess I didn't realize just how hard a requirement like that would be on you. I should have, but I didn't. I do now. No limits on intercourse for you. Okay? Are we good?" she said.

I nodded. "Okay," I said.

We did a little more shopping for me while we were in the store and she bought some women's stuff too. An hour later we were at home. We put the new duds away and headed for the kitchen. Always the kitchen it seemed.

We sat across from each other. "You know the whole cuckolding thing was your idea originally," she said.

"Maybe, but not the way you and good old Bill wanted to go about it," I said.

"Oh come on, Oscar. Everything we did, and planned to do, is in one or another of your web stories, and you know it," she said.

"Yes, and as I mentioned on more than one occasion even then: there were some things that just weren't appealing to me, and you either if it came to that," I said.

"Granted, but the things we did do were all things you thought were hot. Well, okay, maybe not the one thing. I was reaching a little with that one.

"I guess, my husband, that I have to ask the inevitable question,"