Eleonor was in the shower, so I put her phone on the bed where it was and distanced myself.
"Honey," I said aloud. "You just received a text."
She burst out of the bathroom without even finishing, looking at me and the phone, smiling. She took the phone, but she was already calm by that moment, maybe because of the distance. Anyway, I was in a state of disbelief and suppressed anger. I really wanted to scream, but that would be worst for me.
"It's nothing." She smiled at me. "Everything okay, Tim?"
I nodded.
I got out of the room a moment later, feeling wrecked, and jealous. There was that dark skinned bulging hard cock floating in my mind, and I couldn't comprehend why I felt so turned on.
I should be disgusted. That's what a normal person would be feeling. A man. I spent that day suffering with those thoughts, maybe because I didn't want to face the reality of being hurt with the betrayal of my wife.
I saw the dick pic on my wife's cellphone. My dick had gotten hard as a reaction. I read a few of the messages and could see that she probably deleted many more, and by those few, you could tell she had fucked that man a lot of times.
Eleonor didn't notice anything wrong. Why would she? All the time I stared at her pale face, wanting to say words that could hurt her as much as I was hurt. Incredible how you could hate someone you thought you loved so fast.
After she slept that night I took her phone again and the picture was gone. But I knew the name of the guy, Jack. So I looked for a number of a guy called Jack. I felt the need to save his phone number, then I put my wife's phone back where it was.
I went to the bathroom of the guest room and called the number.
A very deep voice answered from the other side.
"Who's this?"
In the moment I heard the voice, I just remembered the dick. How mediocre my cock was compared to his. I didn't say anything, just held the phone in my ear and touched myself, very slightly on the front of my shorts, but my cock grew very fast.
"Hello, anyone? Are you there?" If he was a latino, he didn't have the accent for it. But still, I just imagined he was a latino, no face yet, just a big dark man with a big dick.
I thought to say, "So, you like to fuck my wife?" but I could never. That required courage.
"I'm going to turn it off" he said.
"Wait," I said. I shut my eyes hard at the regret of having opened my mouth, but also that weird pride you get when you do something stupid that you really wanted to do.
"The fuck are you, man?" he said, a bit mad.
Without any clues of how to take control of that situation, I rubbed my hand on my hard cock like an obsessive creep. I didn't answer.
"Quit wasting my time, fag." For a hilarious moment, I thought he maybe could see me rubbing my crotch while talking to him. I felt so ashamed. Goddamn.
"I'm sorry."
"Who ARE you?" he said. I flinched.
"I can't say..."
"Why not?" said a softer version of the same voice. He was trying to milk some information, and it almost worked.
I shook my head, as if was able to see me.
"What do you want from me?" Jack said.
"I want a picture of your cock" I said, my voice was shaking a bit, it must have sounded like I was feverish.
"What?" he said. "Wait, this is a prank." He was getting mad again.
"No, no... I..." My heart raced, my face burned, my head ached. "You sent one to my wife today, and I want one for myself." I closed my eyes again. My cock was so hard it pained me. "I can't stop thinking about your cock."
"Shit," was all he said. His breathing changed, it got rougher for a while.
I couldn't say I was surprised when he ended the call. I didn't care that much, I just took my cock out and cummed all over myself. It felt so damn good. I had to fight with the urge to make big noises. I felt so deeply ashamed and hurt, everything in my life seemed to be exploding on my face.
Then I got a new text message and my heart leaped again. My fingers almost couldn't work out with the phone. And there it was, the glorious cock that was fucking my wife. I recognized that was the same cock.
I wondered if Jack was hard as I was right now. I wondered if I made him hard. I had never done that nor wanted to do that, but as of right now, I imagined myself touching that cock, squeezing that thick roundness and putting in my mouth. His voice calling me a fag through in the call repeated on my mind. Damn, I wanted to jerk off again.
I didn't last long either. My cock slowly leaked more cum as I squeezed it. I was still horny, and couldn't stop looking at the picture of that latino cock.
Feeling a bit daring, I texted back. Of course, the words were mostly spelled wrong, because I was so nervous, but here I decided to tell more of how I intended them to be.
"Thank you, I cummed so fast looking at your beautiful cock."
And he texted me right after.
"So the cuck is also hungry for cock?"
"Please, don't tell my wife."
"I'll think about it," he texted.
Then he sent more pictures.
One thing that I wanted to do was to show Eleonor all those pictures. It would be so good to watch her cry and scream, be angry and sad at the same time. But I knew it wouldn't be as effective. She didn't even realized something was wrong. That stung.
On one night, I was trying to sleep beside her, somehow doubting that the sleep would come. It did. She awoke me with a shake, trying to get her way into my pajamas. That was unusual. I pretended to sleep while she made me hard.
"Come on, I know you're awake."
All of the most humiliating misogynistic insults came into my head, but I held them.
"I'm trying to sleep."
"Maybe this will help you?" She said, and her fingers rubbed my cock's head and managed to get me really hard.
I turned on the bed, took off my shorts and told her to suck me. I had no interest in getting into her games that night, so I just held her head and fucked her face as fast as I could, making her gag and drool all over my prick. I cummed without warning, wondering if Jack did the same thing. Probably worst.
"Now can I sleep?" I said. Turned around again and closed my eyes, my head thundering.