The memory of that night still makes my dick twitch. She was a vision, all curves and confidence, her eyes sparkling with mischief. The party was in full swing, and she was the center of attention. I can still see her, dressed to kill, her body begging to be touched. And touch it, she did. With someone else. But that’s the thrill, isn’t it? Knowing that while I was at home, jerking off to the thought of her, she was out there, being a fucking slut. She came home with a story, and a condom. ‘Yes baby, I was slutty at the party tonight,’ she said, her voice dripping with satisfaction. ‘Put your dick into the same condom his dick was in, and I’ll let you jack off to me while I tell you about it.’
When the Night’s Thrill Becomes Reality
And I did. I fucking did. I slid my cock into that used condom, feeling the remnants of another man’s pleasure. She watched, her eyes hungry, as I stroked myself to the image of her being fucked by a stranger. Her words painted a vivid picture, each detail a brushstroke of humiliation and arousal. ‘He was huge,’ she whispered, ‘bigger than you. He filled me up, stretched me out.’ I could almost feel his cock, thick and hard, pumping into her. The memory of that night is etched into my mind, a permanent reminder of her power over me. She owns me, body and soul, and she knows it. That’s the beauty of being a cuck, the thrill of knowing your woman is a whore, and loving every fucking minute of it.

The last time a guy used a condom on my wife I emptied onto her pussy, then I inverted it inside out and put it on then fucked her with it, just a few strokes to spread the cum inside her pussy. Then I took it off and entered her.