I can still feel the tension in my chest as I watched her, my wife, straddling him, her small hands gripping his broad shoulders. The way her eyes fluttered shut, the way her lips parted in that soft, breathy moan, it was like a knife twisting in my gut. I knew I should look away, but I couldn’t. I was transfixed, a slave to the sight of her riding him, her body moving in that slow, sensual rhythm. The shirt she wore, that oversized Mickey Mouse one, was hiked up, revealing the curve of her ass, the way her panties were pulled down just enough to tease. I could see the way his hands roamed, the way he gripped her hips, pulling her down onto him, and I knew I was nothing but a spectator, a cuckold, watching as my wife took what she wanted.
Bedroom of Betrayal: Her Pleasure, My Pain
And then she looked at me, her eyes dark with lust, and she asked, ‘Did I look good on his cock, baby?’ I could only nod, my throat tight, my heart pounding. I was his, her toy, her cuckold, and I loved every fucking second of it.

