Cuck And Bull Pt 01

Cuck and Bull--PART 1

Copyright (c) 2024 by TeddySmutWriter. All rights reserved.

This is my take on the usual interracial cuckold story.

In fact you may find yourself looking at the genre differently once you finish reading my story. You may even hate me for it.

The beginning is a bit long but you will be thoroughly confused if you don't read from the beginning. And hopefully you will find it entertaining in its own way.

Don't worry, there's lots of hot sex. If you are really eager to get to the good stuff you can ctrl-F on "Kiss me you fool" but I strongly recommend against it.

**John**

I had a mouth full of baloney sandwich when I got the call. It was from my wife. In the background I heard traffic, wind and the hubbub of a small crowd. "John?"

"Second" I choked out. I could try and swallow or spit it out. It was a baloney sandwich. I spit it out. "Yes sweetheart?"

"Remember what we talked about?" I stood up and went to the door of my office, closing it and turning the latch. That's something I rarely do.

I stared at her picture on my phone, blue eyes gleaming back at me. My body normally reacted to the image like her warm hand caressing the back of my neck. Those caresses were few and far between these days. The reaction was still there but so was a mordant rising in my stomach. I knew what this was about. "Go on Amy."

"I'm here with someone and he wants to talk to you."

"Okay, put him on speaker."

"We're in a public space," Amy said.

"I know."

"Right near my job!"

"I know." That was an easy inference since I know there was a sidewalk cafe next to door where she worked and this was her lunch hour.

"Fine!" Amy said. "I'm putting us on speaker, please don't embarrass me."

A man's deep burry voice said "Hello?"

"Hi," I said. "So you're the guy."

"What do you mean?"

"When your wife asks whether we should consider outside consultants, she probably already has someone in mind."

"Oh!" He chuckled. "My name is Ben. Ironically I work for a consulting firm in Amy's building. We've talked a few times but we haven't actually 'consulted' yet. I'm calling to verify the decks are clear on the issue."

"I'm about three quarters convinced," I said. "The rewards look good but the risks look catastrophic. I'm married. I have three great kids. Everything is fine at home except the issue under discussion. You can imagine how bad it must be for me considering the risks here."

"I hear you man," Ben said. "I don't know how to assure--"

At this point, outside my office, there was a screech of brakes and the distinctive sound of two lift trucks--forklifts to you--colliding. Even worst was the sound of a pallet full of glass bottles hitting concrete from a height. Fuck.

"Look," I said as I unlatched my door and headed through the outer office toward the trouble. "There's an accident here and I need to deal. Amy, give Ben my number and my work address. Ben, come on over and we'll talk. Whenever you can."

I hit the red button and went out to see how bad it was. Nobody was hurt but a whole pallet of Adelina Shiraz Clare Valley 2020 wine from South Australia had been dropped from three stories up. Nearly fifty bucks a bottle retail. When booze hits the floor the paperwork goes through the roof. We had to account for every single bottle. Fuck.

You'd think one quarter into the 21st Century everything would have digitized by now. Are you kidding?

I assessed the situation. Nobody was hurt. The situation was stable in that there was no ongoing danger. I separated the two drivers before fists flew.

The mop of blonde curly hair with black roots of Rita, my executive assistant slash office manager, appeared at my shoulder. She had an armful of clipboards and her tablet. Her arms encumbered, I pushed her glasses back up her nose. She smiled at the familiar gesture despite the situation. "Looks bad boss."

We got to work. She started handing out clipboard and emailing people. I called my boss.

Twenty minutes later I was still on the phone with him. My stomach was aching from the stress and from being empty. I almost didn't catch the appearance of a text icon. I checked. It was an unknown number.

(555) 555 1234: Hi, this is Ben. Hope whatever that was is better. Anybody hurt? I'm free this afternoon if that's OK with you.

Eager this guy is, my internal Yoda voice said. Bonus points for not using text shortcuts though.

On the phone I summed up all the action items to my boss and asked if I missed anything. My boss said he didn't think so but he'd let me know. He wasn't the most decisive person on the planet and needed nudging sometimes. He ended the call. I sighed relief then burped an acrid bubble of stomach gas.

ME: You mean to come over and talk?

BEN: Yeah. I know I'm coming across as eager but you can't blame me considering how beautiful your wife is.

That was a point I could not argue. Amy's forehead was just the right height to kiss. Her face was heart shaped perfection with the tiny flaw of a line through one dark eyebrow. Now add tousled blonde hair, clever gleaming eyes, rosy cheeks and cupid's bow mouth. Then, below that, imagine what could only be described as a wet dream come to life.

Whenever she was close, despite everything, I still felt my manhood stir.

And she knew it.

ME: That she is. I'm really busy but somehow I feel this is as good a time as any. I'm never not busy. So the sooner the better.

BEN: Okay. On the way.

I turned to Rita. "I just remembered I promised a friend of a friend of my wife I'd give him a tour. He's some kind of a consultant. Name's Ben. Should be here soon."

"Gee boss," Rita rolled her eyes. "Pile it on why don't you."

I gave her my best sheepish smile. "I know. I know."

I excused myself and went to the break room. We have reasonably cheap vending machines there and free, if you can stomach it, coffee. I fed a couple of bucks into the solid food machine and got something resembling a danish. It was really dry and far too sweet but now something was in my stomach. I just could not even think about those baloney sandwiches I'd slapped together this morning. I made my own lunches because I left for work very early and didn't want to wake Amy.

Fuck. I supervise over a hundred workers. I'm told I'm a good boss. I deal with shit like today on a weekly basis. Yet I can't arrange to get a decent lunch every day.

An hour or so later I was back at my desk in the reacting to others' reaction to the accident phase.

My phone sounded Aurora--Amy's text tone. I took a look.

AMY: What are you doing?

I deliberately misunderstood what she was talking about. Amy has zero interest in anything not about her.

ME: Working. High value accident. Gonna be late getting home.

AMY: You know what I'm talking about. Are you actually going to meet Ben and talk about me behind my back?

ME: That's one way of looking at it.

AMY: What other way is there?

ME: Making sure he's a stand-up guy and safe for you?

AMY: So you're saying you don't trust my judgment?

Shit. That's a tough one--especially since I did not trust her judgment. I decided to feed her another avenue of attack.

ME: It's just that this whole thing makes me nervous.

AMY: Big warehouse supervisor man is nervous? You gonna pee your pants because momma found herself a new dick? A big black dick?

ME: That's over the line Amy.

AMY: I'm sorry you feel that way.

With her non apology I decided it was time to walk away from the conversation. Actually I was late. I shouldn't have taken the bate of her mockery.

In the outer office I saw Rita handing a visitor hardhat to a tall black man in a very nicely fitted suit. Judging against Rita he was about my height but slimmer. More mesomorph than endorphin like me.

ME: People walking in. We'll talk when I get home.

What can I say, I'm still not great at this gray rocking thing.

I walked out to meet the visitor. "Ben?"

"John? Hi. Great to meet you." He offered his hand.

We shook. Not bullshit, just solid handshakes.

"Let's make an honest man out of you," I said. "Get out your phone and we'll do a selfie for your boss."

Rita said "I'll do that for you."

Ben handed Rita his unlocked phone and she directed us in front of the corporate logo on the wall. We did a bunch of shots. Rita can be fussy for details. It's why I like her.

That done we did a tour of the warehouse. Ben was kinda overwhelmed by the size. I kinda bragged about it. "It's a little under a quarter mile from corner to corner. Five stories high. We have over a hundred workers on each of three shifts."

It turned out Ben's consulting firm was all about civil engineering. They concentrated on foundations, drainage plans and subsidence prevention. He quizzed me a lot about the history of the building and whether it had had any structural trouble. I answered as best I could. He mentioned his bosses were bidding on the site prep work for some of a certain large online retailer's new distribution centers. For real he could write off his visit to my shop when he got back to his bosses.

And somewhere in all that we had also talked about "Of shoes, and ships, and sealing-wax--Of cabbages, and kings," if you know what I mean.

We exchanged cards.

I texted my wife.

ME: Agent A this is Agent J, rendezvous with Agent B a success--we are go for launch.

AMY: You are such a child.

I wanted to reply "What part of permission to fuck your new black stud as much as you want causes you to lash out like that?" but I forebear. It wouldn't do me any good. This kind of thing was reflexive with her. I call it "the beast."

I think some inkling got through to her when I didn't immediately reply.

AMY: Honey I'm so glad you came around to my side on this. Love you. :* :*

Despite everything I was never not on her side in this. To be frank, the image of my wife taking a big black cock excited me quite a bit--seeing all her beauty ramped up to eleven by the taboo pleasure of it all.

AMY: If I can get a baby sitter at the last minute I won't be home when you get there. I'll put something in the oven for you. I may not be home all night. Can you handle that?

So much for talking when I get home. I took a very deep breath. How not to sound too much like a cuck and yet not feed the beast in other ways...

ME: Just promise to be careful. Love you.

AMY: I will. LYB

Around four everyone at corporate dropped emails on everyone else--putting all the balls in everyone else's court--before heading home. Because of the accident a good many of those emails ended up in my inbox. That's the way things go, as predictable as the tides. Especially on a Friday. I didn't need a bunch of "I sent it to him on Friday!" complaints on top of everything else. So I stayed late and dealt.

I got home around six thirty. Amy's car was gone. Entering the kitchen from the garage I checked the oven--nothing. There was a pizza box on the table. Four cuts were missing. My antacid prescription was in the master bathroom. Not feeling the energy to climb up and come back down, I took a piece of pizza. I called out "kids!? Daddy's home!"

"Daddy!" My six year old twins zoomed in for hugs. They're fraternal, a boy Patrick and a girl Freya. John Jr. followed them in. He's eight.

"Hi Dad," he said before snagging another cut.

"Hey JJ," I said. "How's things?"

"Same-oh same-oh," he said while chewing. "You?"

"Accident at work, pallet of wine fell from high up and splattered wine everywhere. You should have seen the mess."

"Cool. That why you're late?" He was far too young yet to be told about the wretchedness of paperwork.

"Yeah," I said. "Who did your mom get to babysit?"

"That would be me." I looked over at the door to the dining room to see Nelly Burnado, the girl who had babysat for us off and on since JJ was born.

I should say young woman. She had long since filled out from the gawky teenager with braces. Now she was a curvaceous Mediterranean skinned pocket sexpot hidden in a distressed Dartmouth jersey and jean shorts.

Her face was troubled.

"How goes things with you?" I asked.

"Crazy as usual," she said. "New job sucks but not horribly. Tom is off chasing butterflies again."

Her on again, off again, boyfriend was a nature videographer. The charming bastard made Bill Clinton look like a monk. But Nelly seemed okay with that--about as much as I was okay with Amy.

"Should we load the kids into my car and get you home?"

"No, from what I gather you had a shit day and need to relax. I can get an Uber or stay the night. Up to you." Those troubled eyes looked at me then away.

I was tired and probably missing all kinds of signals there. By this time the kids had drifted away. I looked at my half eaten slice, frowned, and set it down in the box. "I hope you shook Amy down good when she called at the last minute."

"She said she had an event and had to go alone because of that accident at work meant you couldn't attend." Nelly's face changed from troubled to amused. To me it meant we were releasing the tension of what was bothering her.

"Funny thing one was that she wasn't pissed at you about it," she said.

"Funny thing two was that, if she had an event she would have already made baby sitter arrangements.

"Funny thing three was that dress she had on only made sense if her charity event was at a strip bar."

"Hot, was it?" I asked.

"That dress was all slinky, shiny green and way the fuck too short. You could see the top of her crack it was so low in the back. The front plunged almost as low but was that loose and floppy style that teases you with the hope of a boob flash every step she took. I'm sure there's a name for it. There's a name for all that shit in fashion.

"I'm guessing you're a bit confused."

"Not about what Amy was doing, she's cheating on you John."

"I know."

"But why did I feel compelled to give you a fashion report on her fuck me dress?"

"Because it and she were gorgeous," I said. "She's the Platonic form of a hotwife."

"Hotwife?" She didn't sound unfamiliar with the term. "When did this happen?"

"About noon today." I couldn't help but chuckle. "Amy and I have been discussing opening our marriage for some time. Nothing was decided yet. The guy she was thinking about said he wanted to confirm consent with me and they called me at lunch."

"And just like that she's off to be with him?"

"Nope," I said. "I invited Ben--that's his name--to come over and talk man to man. He did. Good guy."

"A good guy who wants to... no, by now he probably is fucking your wife."

"I don't think so," I said. "I expect she'll send me a graphic picture and a scathing remark when she does. Hasn't happened yet. Probably still at dinner. After that Amy will want to go dancing to show herself off in that dress."

"You sound like you want her to cuckold you" she said. "That's not like you."

I sighed. "You know me, you also know Amy. Our marriage is sliding off the roof. I'm clutching at the gutter."

"But what about you?" she asked. "You gonna let her turn you into a simpering wimp with a cage on your dick?"

"It's going to be interesting watching her try." I laughed. I mean I really laughed. "Sometimes the only way to escape a flooding mine is to dive deep into the cold dark water."

"Daddy! Freya won't give back the remote!"

I headed for the living room. The twins were at one end of the couch. Freya had the remote held just out of her Patrick's reach. JJ was watching from the other end, clearly amused. I took the remote and handed it to Nelly. "I delegate you Mistress of the TV."

I sat down in the middle of the couch and slipped off my black steel towed dress shoes. I started to lean to my right and push my feet towards the twins on my left. "Watch out, here comes some stinky feet!"

The kids vacated the couch posthaste. I rolled onto my belly and began making theatrical snoring noises. I heard giggles and whispers. The twins climbed up and sat on my back. After a while JJ sat on my legs. I was home.

My phone quacked. Nelly said "My ringtone is a duck?"

"You were thirteen and our babysitter," I grumbled. "What is it?"

"Picture."

"Cute."

Nelly came over and sat on my ass. The kids giggled. I felt their weights shift as they leaned into her. The TV blared with some bright sounding kids' comedy. I entered a trance like state where all I felt was the rough fabric of the couch on my cheek and the comforting weight on my back. All words became a pleasant buzz in the background. No doubt I drooled on the upholstery.

**Amy**

"If you don't mind, I'd like to confirm that." Ben's affable face hadn't changed a bit from his look of shining admiration when he said it. But it wasn't a request. I could tell.

Crap. John and I were talking about opening our marriage--mostly I talked and he listened, which is as it should be--but it wasn't a done deal yet. My husband could be like a fucking sphinx lately. But I had implied to Ben just now that it was all settled. "Okay, how do you want to do this?"

"Call him, put him on speaker."

I pointedly looked around at the "Bean There Done That" cafe, which had its usual lunchtime crowd.

"Don't worry," Ben said. "I know how to talk private business in public."

I smiled at him and touched his hand. "Of course you do. I'm sorry I doubted you."

I mashed my thumb on my husband's face in my contacts list.

It rang twice. John answered with his mouth full--how rude.

After I explained to John, he and Ben had a ridiculously transparent conversation about "consulting."

There was a horrible crash noise from the phone. People in the cafe all stopped and looked us. John suddenly sounded rushed and all take charge like he does sometimes. He told Ben to come see him.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Last thing I wanted was my fat husband--he wasn't really but compared to Ben he was--and my prospective black lover to be able to talk about me behind my back. But what could I do?

I texted John's number and work address to Ben with a smile on my face.

Our lunches were practically over. We stood and I got in real close, under his chin close, and said. "Don't worry, John's just a big teddybear. I'm sure it will be fine. I kissed his chin."

Ben kissed my forehead. I liked that. John did that a lot too. When I let him it was like I'd given him a blowjob or something.

Back at the office I said to my boss "I called my husband at lunch. There's been a big accident at his job. May I take the afternoon off?"

"Of course. Of course. Was he hurt?"

"I don't think so, but you've met him, he's the run into the burning building type. He had to drop our call as he rushed off. I'm very worried about him."

"Of course Amy," my boss said. "You're such a good wi--spouse to him. I'll tell HR it's admin so you won't get charged."

I gave my boss a gushing thank you and rushed off.

It was Friday. All the other shirkers like me--don't judge--in the city were knocking off early so the traffic was already heavy. Didn't these people realize I needed to get to the mall ASAP? Fortunately my Bronco Sport was very agile and I could exploit openings with alacrity. I got quite a few horn beeps and middle fingers. Each one gave me a little zip of satisfaction.

The mall was crowded and I couldn't find two open parking spots close in. I parked farther out and changed from my office clothes to yoga tights, T-shirt and tennis shoes. As I did this I texted my husband.

ME: What are you doing?

HIM: Working. High value accident. Gonna be late getting home.

John could be so obtuse sometimes.

ME: You know what I'm talking about. Are you actually going to meet Ben and talk about me behind my back?

HIM: That's one way of looking at it.