A Cuckolds Fate

He was sure that no one knew that his wife was "unfaithful" to him. They had been quite careful in that regard. He traveled a lot; mainly overseas; Africa, Asia, Canada, even South America a few times. He was away from home nearly 2/3rds of the year sometimes. He had known when his wife had begun cheating on him. It had been in small things; the way she would look at him; the way she began dressing; the sort of make-up she had started wearing; and it had been also in the phone calls! He had thought about confronting her about all that, but had, inexplicably, decided to let it slide! He knew that his wife knew that he was aware of her extra-mairtal liasions, and yet, she had said nothing, either. If he wasn't going to confront her about it, then why should she say anything, either? And so, that had been how he became a Cuckold! It had just evolved into it. He was laying down on a bed in a not so nice part of West Africa. In Angola, as a matter of fact. He had been out all day at an aid project he was involved with, and he had returned to his room to shut out the sights and sounds of a failed country getting worse, inspite of any sort of "outside" aid effort that he could hope to provide. He had returned to his room in a strange mood. He had spent the better part of the day on the construction project, but he had been distracted by thoughts regarding his wife. This was by no means an unusual occurence for him; for, he was often distracted by thinking of her, and of the man who she was having an affair with. What most men would have felt was a burning sense of angre, and betrayal, but he was not like that! He, on the other hand, found the thoughts of his wife's sexual exploits with this, and the other men she had been with over the last several years, strangely--- exciting, rather than producing feeling of gloom! Of course, what is being left out in this picture was the fact that, earlier, before his wife turned to these other men, was that he had admitted to her that he was gay! Or, at the very least, "bisexual!" This had nearly brought their marital relationship to a close, too. Indeed, in some ways, he was still surprised that he didn't come home from one of his aid trips to find his wife moved out! Why didn't she? He often asked himself. It wasn't that he wished her to leave him, but he couldn't have objected if she had. He had no leg upon which to have any grounds for refusal. That had probably loomed large in his mind for not confronting her about her other lovers! And so, he was a cuckold, and his wife was a cuckoldress. As he laid on top of the bed, he began picturing his wife with another man. This was something he had grown to do with increasing frequency! In fact, such thoughts and images had come to nearly dominate any sort of sexual fantasy that might pass before his conscious mind! Indeed, he seemed unable to achieve an orgasm without including the image of his wife being fucked by a younger, straight stud with a big dick! It was his ritual. His libation. His admission to being a failure as a husband, as well as a lover. It seemed fitting for him to acknowledge his cuckold status in just such a way. As his sperm flew out of him onto some grimy, filthy sink, in some distant foriegn hotel, another man's sperm was likely flowing into his wife's womb back home! He enjoyed picturing this event. He really did. It was his form of penance, and he did so with great vigor and intensity! It was masocistic certainly, but, in his mind, it was just, and right, and proper. He diserved it! That was the entire point of the thing! He stopped stroking his own cock at the moment he felt his oprgas growing too strong, and he stood at the dirty curtained window, staring out at the street below. He saw a young man he had seen many times in the same spot; maybe early teens. No younger. He found him to be incredibly goodlooking. Though very much a young man, nevertheless, he also had a vague sort of effeminacy to him; mainly in his facial features, that made his lust stir strangely hot. The young man was, of course, not available to him, but, he did lust after him all the same! He was free do that, at least! He stood there, unseen from the outside street, and began stroking his cock once again. It had stayed rigid, even without touching it, and even though he would sometimes think of his wife back home, he began to include the young Arab man in the street into his convoluted erotic imaginations! He put him into a scenario in which he was with the older man's wife; but, instead of her being in America, she was there in the room with her husband, as well as the young Arab! His cock stiffened considerably as this thought began to ignite within him. He took great care to paint an elaborte picture of his wife laying naked on the hotel room bed, as the young Arab (also naked) proceeded to fuck her! "Mmmmm, yesss!" The lone man in the room said out loud. He focused on the image of the dark brown cock head of the young Arab, as it slid without any resistance, deeper and deeper into his wife's receptive vagina! "Oh yesss," he could imagine his wife saying at such a moment, "FUCK ME! Fuck me HARD!" Of course, any young man such as the Arab in the street below his room window, having such an opportunity to fuck a western white woman, would likely do it, and to do so with great gusto! In his thoughts, this was the image he was painting with such great excitment! His hand was moving up and down along the length of his throbbing cock as he pictured his wife in such a scenario, and he knew that if did this for very much longer, he would come; and though, that would be the ultimate goal of his afternoons activity, he did not wish to rush things along too fast towards that climax; and so, as he felt the telltale first signs of an impending orgasm, helet go of his cock shaft, and let it twitch and jerk, spasmodically! He walked to where he had a bottle of water, and took several slow sips from it before screwing the cap back on. His cock had remained erect during the short pause; and he looked down on it as it jutted out into the sluggishly damp air. He went back to the window and looked out into the street, and as he caught sight of the handsome young Arab by the stalls, he resumed stroking his cock once again. In his minds eye, he was seated on the only chair in the room, while his wife, and the young Arab, wrestled upon the rumpled sheets before him. He was fairly certain that, had his wife been there as he was imagining, and had she been grappling with the dark skinned naked Arab, giving his cock free and unfettered access to her vagina, that he, himself, would have been as silent as a mouse; and that he would have taken in every sight, every sound, every smell of their fucking! He would have had an erection, too; just as he had at that precise moment. He would have luxuriated in the shere masocism of the moment! That was his lot in life. That was his fate; and, rather than fighting against it (as he might have had he been a different sort of man), he would have willingly embrassed it! After nearly coming a dozen, or so, times in a row, he felt the inner frustration that seemed to burn within him in such moments growing nearly too hot to control any further. He loved arriving at that place. It was the moment he almost liked more than the eventual orgasm, itself! He did manage to refrain from stroking his cock for another brief pause, and then, in that frenzy of self-imposed agony (and pleasure), he contiuned to picture his wife fucking the young Arab, and, at nearly the same moment he finally came, he was thinking of that happening between his wife and her Arab lover! "Ohh, OHHH!, God!" He said aloud, as he began pumping spurt after spurt of sperm onto the dirty floor beneath the curtained window where still stood! As he did so, he was picturing the young Arabs sperm flowing freely into his wife's vagina; filling it up more, and more, and more, with each thick spurt of Arabic DNA! He even pictured the moment the young Arab would eventually withdraw his gleaming cock from his wife, and he could imagine the sight of the pearlescent stuff starting to ooze heavily down the sweating crack of his wife's ass cheeks, and on down to the sheets in such disarray! "UUuugh, yesss," he said, with the thrill of the orgasmic release still strong, reverberating through his entire body! He felt the post orgasmic glow fading slightly as he fetched a pice of paper towel he had, and proceeded to clean up the mess he had just made on the foor beneath the widow. He also felt the tension that had been building in his soul for the last several weeks, draining away after the orgasm. He felt justly 'punished', too; which was very much an integral part of these 'fantasies' he frequently engaged in. The punishment, however, was justly deserved; at least, that was how he thought of these moments. Some men might try and escape punishment, but he faced it. He even accpeted it as his rightful do. That made all the difference, too!