This Coc Tastes Lie My Wife

Part 5 – The Partnership

This is part 5 of the series. Part 4 was contained in chapter 2. Parts 1-3 was contained in chapter 1.

I was shaking outside of room 217. I'd been standing there for almost five minutes and still hadn't knocked. It wasn't too late to turn around.

But who was I kidding? I'd come this far because my obsession ruled me. I had no power over it but for the palm of my own hand. I could have rubbed one out on my own and gotten enough mental clarity to avoid being here. But that was only delaying the inevitable. Bearing the burden of my all-consuming fantasy alone was wearing me down. I needed to share it.

I knocked.

A tall, fortyish man with slightly graying black hair opened the door, a towel wrapped around his waist. I thought he somewhat favored Richard Gere.

"I was wondering how long you were going to stand out there before you knocked," Ron spoke with a slight southern accent, standing aside as he held the door.

"Put yourself in my shoes," I said, cautiously stepping into the room.

"Oh, I understand you very well. That's why I let you stand out there and go through your process. I'm a patient man when I choose to be."

The room was small and had a peculiar smell to it. The queen-sized bed looked slept in. The floral print comforter was in a heap on the floor. A half empty bottle of Cognac sat atop the dresser. The room was tidy aside from that. Not a total dive, but nothing special.

"Excuse the condition of the room. I had a small party in here earlier and I've only just started cleaning up from it," He said, strolling in to the tiny bathroom and dispensing some deodorant under his arms.

"A party, huh?" I stood near the entrance of the room.

"A couple of friends of mine, and another man's wife," He said, plainly looking at me in the mirror.

"I see," I nodded. "Ohhhhh," I belatedly realized what he meant.

"Redhead, late twenties, nice tits. Fucked her in every orifice with her husband on speaker phone," Ron stated matter-of-factly, grinning.

"Sounds like fun," I answered, fidgeting with my hands, aimlessly looking around the room.

"You knew that about me, I presume," He asked, coming out of the bathroom and walking to the dresser.

"That you had a party?"

"That I fuck other men's wives for sport."

"You're a bull?"

"That term annoys me, but use it if you like," Ron poured some Cognac into two plastic cups.

"Actually, I didn't. I mean, I wasn't sure. In your stories you always write from the cuckold's perspective. But then when we started chatting you always did seem kind of...I don't know...aggressive?"

"I like writing as if the shoe were on the other foot. I find the dynamics of the submissive mind, fascinating. I'm particularly intrigued by those of you who have such a self-deluded image that you lack self-value to the point of actually favoring minimal sexual gratification, pain even, emotional and physical. I try, and if I do say so myself, succeed very well in conveying that type of psycho-sexual dysfunction in my stories because I've gained what I think is a very unique perspective on the situation."

I scratched my head trying to figure out if he had just insulted me or not. Trying not to sound ignorant, I addressed the part that I did understand. "I wouldn't necessarily say I'm a submissive."

Ron chuckled. "I would," he said, handing me a cup of Cognac. "Here, this will loosen you up a bit."

"Got me all figured out, huh?"

"I'd say so," He said, arrogantly. "I've encountered all types in this lifestyle. Some men are just victims of cold, selfish, calculating women and don't have the backbone to stand up for themselves. Others simply devalue their women so greatly that they long to see them used and humiliated, but also lack the backbone to do it themselves, detaching themselves from the act by putting it in another mans hands so they can hold on to their delusions of being a loving husband."

"Shit, what are you, the professor of cuckolding or something?" I wondered if he could sense the complex he was giving me. "So which one do you think I am?"

"Neither," he smiled. "Which is why I'm particularly interested in you. You convey the type of emotion and feelings that usually have to be absent to practice cuckoldry. I believe you actually do love and value your wife. And DD doesn't seem to be the manipulative type either, even though she

is

a whore."

Hearing him call my wife a whore sent a chill down my spine and rush of blood to my dick. Somehow the effect was greater hearing it said out loud than seeing him type it on a screen. I quickly slammed the half-full cup Cognac.

"See what I mean," he cackled. "You get uncomfortable at the suggestion of your wife being anything but an angel, yet it excites you so much. I love it."

"So what am I, some sort of science project to you?"

"A lab rat of sorts," Ron laughed.

My expression got dark.

"I'm kidding! Lighten up!" He said, pouring me another cup of Cognac. "Sit down and relax for crying out loud! Get comfortable! I know it's not the Hilton, but you're in good company."

"The room is fine," I shrugged, sitting at the edge of the bed, "I just get a little awkward meeting new people."

"The room is a dive. But it's the kind of room you use to fuck a cheap whore, know what I mean? It's the kind of room I'd fuck your slut, Asian wife in."

As I instantly converted his words into a mental picture, my cock stiffened. "I suppose," I replied meekly.

Part of me felt obligated to sock him in the mouth for that remark. I had to remember the context in which we'd met. Spoken words verses written words. This was far more real now, and I was still adjusting.

Besides that, Ron was an imposing physical figure. I wasn't so sure I could take him anyway. As he handed me another cup of Cognac, I noticed his U.S.M.C. tattoo on his arm in old English letters.

"So like I was saying," Ron sat beside me on the bed. "I've taken quite an interest in you and your wife, as you know."

"Because I'm supposedly different than the other husbands you've dealt with?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. For one I think it would be fascinating to see how you react to the realization of your fantasy. And for another, I have to tell you, I really loathe most of the men whom I've cuckolded. A lot of their wives too. It was easy for me to use and humiliate them because of that. I'm sure you can imagine, the lack of respect I had for their marriages made me excellent at it. They were role-playing. I wasn't." Ron's gaze drifted towards the window as he took a long swig of the liquor.

"What are you saying, Ron? You want to..."

"To make you the cuckold you've always wanted to be," he finished my sentence. "It'll be a challenge for me, because honestly, I actually like you." He put his hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "But in spite of that, I fully intend to use your wife like I have every other whore I've encountered, and I will treat you the same as I've treated their husbands. I won't deny you the full experience, I promise."

"Um...look, that's flattering, I guess. But like I've been telling you, I don't think I could actually go through with it," I said, finishing another glass of Cognac.

"Well, that's the beauty of this lifestyle, you don't necessarily have to go through with anything. You simply remain passive, if not submissive, and let it happen like all sissy husbands do. Let me take control," Ron looked me directly in the eyes.

Did he just imply that I was a sissy?

I wondered. "Ron, I don't know. I'm playing with fire here," I shook my head.

"That's part of the thrill," he smiled. "And the way I see it, it's inevitable that it will happen. You're fighting a losing battle with your demons. And your wife craves a real man to fuck her. Wouldn't you rather put it in the hands of someone who won't completely try to destroy your marriage? Believe me, if she's allowed to stray with a man who doesn't understand this lifestyle he will ultimately seek to posses your woman. I merely want to use her."

I stood up, went to the dresser, poured some more Cognac and promptly downed it. "You make it sound like I'm going to lose her if I don't do this."

"You have to admit, it's a real possibility, all things considered. You have no idea."

I sighed deeply, and faintly nodded as I fell back onto the bed. "But what makes you so sure that this will be the solution? What makes you think she'd even be a part of anything like this? As much as I fantasize about her cheating, it would kill me.

"I'd have to be involved, you know? I have to be a willing participant, and she has to know that I am. None of that hiding in closets bullshit and letting her think I don't know. And I don't see how I could get myself to explain to her, how I could be ok with that. I wouldn't even know where to start."

Ron grinned, knowingly. "It's the solution because unlike her previous husband, she knows she has a man who loves her, and she loves you back. But she also seeks to fulfill the part of her that's still wanting. If she truly believes she can have her cake and eat it too, by keeping your love and getting well fucked by another, why would she refuse? The rest, you just leave that to me. When the time comes, she'll be posing the question to you, not the other way around. I can make sure of that. I'm a master at this."

For the first time ever I found myself seriously contemplating my fantasy becoming a reality. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might jump out of my chest and land in Ron's lap. "And you...you really think you can do this? I mean, I don't even know if you're her type, no offense."

"My friend, I'm already half way there."

"What do you mean?"

"I told you I have something to show you. Brace yourself." Ron leaned over and grabbed a laptop computer from the nightstand and set it in his lap. He opened it and began clicking and typing. "About that little fantasy story I was telling you earlier."

"The one you still haven't finished? You really had me going, I wish you wouldn't have stopped."

"Sorry, but I'm going to leave the ending up to your imagination. You'll have more fun with it that way. What I wanted to say was, what if I told you that story wasn't a fantasy?"

My heart skipped a beat. He had to be fucking with me. "I'd say you were bullshitting me."

"Well, I am a fiction writer, and so I do take some liberties," Ron turned his head and looked at me squarely, "But I can guarantee you that at least

some

of what I told you actually did happen today."

My lower jaw hung open involuntarily. I didn't know what to say. "H...how?" was all I could muster. Part of me didn't believe him. Part of me wanted to. All of me was numb.

He turned the laptop screen towards me and set it in my lap. "Feel free to scan through these at your leisure."

I was looking at Ron's email inbox. I first noticed one of the messages I'd sent him. Then I noticed several messages from a familiar e-mail address...it was my wife's. My glance immediately shot in his direction.

Ron was smiling. "DD and I have been chatting for a while."

I frantically opened the most recent e-mail, titled - Re; Feeling naughty today? The first thing I saw was a picture of DD standing in what appeared to be a bathroom stall. I could tell it was a self-shot cell phone pic. She was holding her red suit jacket and the blouse underneath open, exposing her bra-clad breasts, and her suit pants were at her knees, showing off her panties. Her underwear was purple, like he'd said. The message was short and sweet – '

Always feeling naughty for you'.

My hands were shaking so badly it was difficult to open the next one. I couldn't speak, or even look at Ron.

The next one was from two days earlier and had no picture, only text.

'Yeah, I hear what you're saying. It was fun though. My emotions are all over the place these days. I'm happy though, mostly.'

It was far too vague for me to understand the nature or the meaning of the message.

The next one contained another low quality cell phone picture. It appeared to be in our kitchen. DD was holding the cell phone out in front of her, only her upper half was visible, and she had on only a bra. Her mouth was opened wide and she was pushing a cucumber into it. The text was short, and read like an inside joke - '

Stretch! LOL'

I continued rummaging through his e-mail. Many of them were only text and most were short. My wife was discussing her emotions, her moods, and our relationship, explaining things her and I had done, and conversations we'd had. Some of them discussed her job and co-workers, most I knew, and some I didn't. All of the messages were about as vague as the first one I'd read and left me little to go on as far as figuring out what the nature of her involvement with Ron was.

A few of them had pictures attached. A couple of them were innocent enough, fully clothed, smiling. One had both of us in it, I remembered the night we took it. The majority of them though, had her in various stages of undress in a provocative pose. I hadn't found any of them with nudity.

Most of what I read was pretty tame. But a few things concerned me more than others. There was one picture of her lying on a bed, one that wasn't ours, wearing only panties, a see through babydoll, and fishnet stockings with her legs spread wide. Given the distance and angle I knew she couldn't have snapped it herself with a cell phone. Had Ron taken that picture?

I was also bothered by a name that kept popping up a lot, Kane. I had no idea who that was, and nothing in particular was said that bothered me, just that she mentioned him so much.

The main thing that bothered me was a passage of text in one of the messages that read –

'After we made love tonight, I went into the bathroom and cried. I was at my wits end. I finally had to accept the fact that I can never have an orgasm with the man I love. No matter how he tries, he will never satisfy me.'

"Wh...I...did...who...uh..." I put my hand against my mouth and tried to gather my thoughts as I exhaled deeply. "How did this happen?"

"What are you thinking right now? How do you feel?" Ron analyzed me.

"I, I don't know. This doesn't even make sense to me. I don't know what's going on. You have to tell me!"

"I can imagine it's hard to make sense of it. Those e-mails are incomplete. I deleted a lot of them. We've had some very revealing conversations. I only wanted you to see a handful of them so you'd know I wasn't bullshitting you when I tell you about your wife," Ron refilled my cup with liquor and handed it to me.

"Did you fuck my wife?" I asked, barely able to utter the words without clearing my throat.

Ron smiled and brought his hand to his chin as if he were debating his answer. "I knew you would ask that. No, I haven't fucked her yet. But I will if you ask nicely."

I tipped my cup back and took another drink. My conflicted mind was half way between fantasy land and painful reality, I wasn't sure if I was relieved or disappointed. "Please don't be vague right now. I need to know exactly what's going on. She's sending you pictures of herself and telling you personal shit! How did this happen, Ron!"

Ron squinted. "Change your tone, and ask me nicely."

"What?"

"If you're going to be a cuckold it's important for you to respect the man that owns your wife's pussy. DD has to always see that I am in charge. Now, if you want to hear this, ask properly," Ron brashly demanded.

I was too stunned by his sudden change in demeanor to speak at first, but finally relented. "Ron, please explain this to me. I'm asking as a friend."

Ron sat beside me and patted me on the back. "That's a good start. Did you bring what I asked you for?"

I nodded, pulling a balled up pair of DD's panties from my pocket.

Ron took them from me and pressed them against his face. "Mmmmmm. She got fucked the day she wore these. Her pussy was ripe. She must have been wet all day." Ron removed her panties from his face and began to explain. "I began chatting with her shortly after you and I began talking. One of those photo's you sent of her, it was taken at a company gathering, yes?"

I thought about it then nodded.

"The name of her company was in big letters on a banner in the background. I looked them up on line and found a company directory. It wasn't hard to find her. I found an obviously Asian first name with your Irish last name and I knew it was your wife. Darareaksmey Mc'Kibben?" Ron chuckled at the name.

"Her name means 'bright star'," I said.

"So I e-mailed her. I told her that I'd been browsing the website and come across her name, which was the same as the last name of an old friend of mine who I'd lost contact with from the same town. I asked if there was any chance she was related to Tony Mc'Kibben. Of course she informed me that she was your wife.

"She was very friendly and helpful right from the beginning. She offered to take my contact info and pass it on to you, but I told her not to, that I wanted to come into town and make a surprise visit.

"I started out by asking questions about you and how things were, how long she'd been married to you, things like that. Your wife is quite a chatterbox, my friend! And trusting too, just like you. She was more than happy to tell me whatever I wanted to know, and plenty more that I didn't even ask...like you," Ron chuckled.

"You guys are two peas in a pod, that's for sure. No wonder you wound up together. Never once doubted that I was who I said I was. But she had no reason too, after all I knew a lot about you from all of our e-mail exchanges.

"I won her over pretty easily. I showed her I had a sense of humor right away. I'd crack jokes about you, like how boring you are, how you spend too much time on the computer, and all of the other things you told me she complained about. That resonated with her so she knew she didn't have to pretend that your marriage was perfect just for my sake. In fact, before I knew it I became the complaint department for all things involving you."

I shook my head, "Telling all of our personal business to a stranger."

"You should talk," Ron said, sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

I bowed my head and took a drink.

"When a woman wants to vent about her man, there is no one she'd rather talk to than someone who knows her man. And there I was, unassuming, non judgmental, a good listener, and I could cheer her up by making her laugh. You should thank me, because I pulled your ass out of a sling more than once, whether you know it or not!"

Ron stopped talking and stared at me, and I realized he'd meant it. "Thank you," I said.

"Your welcome. Because it got to the point where the bitch would never shut up. I had to listen and pretend to care about every stupid little thing that went wrong in her life. Car problems, money problems, she hates her job, her boss, she broke a nail, her friend wore an ugly dress, you name it, I had to hear it all. But it all paid off. By pretending to give a shit about all the little things, I got her to open up about the big thing."

"Sex," I stated dryly, now hanging on every word.

"Oh yes, my friend. I cracked a few jokes about how you never were a ladies man and she had a field day talking about your lack of performance in the bedroom. Did you know she's never had an orgasm with you?"

I didn't answer, but the way I shrunk into my shirt must have told him how I felt. I downed the rest of my Cognac.

"She wasn't happy at all. You remember that phase the two of you went through? The issues were many, but that was at the top of it. She was going to leave you," Ron said, sympathetically.