Friday Night Friends: A Cuckold’s Tale

So, there I was, thinking it was just another Friday night. Little did I know, my wife had other plans. She’s always been the life of the party, but this time, she took it to a whole new level. ‘Friendship,’ she called it. I guess that’s what you call it when your wife strips for your buddies while you’re not home. And there she was, bending over that blue stool, her long dark hair held up, exposing her neck and shoulders. She’s got this way of moving that just… I don’t know, it’s like she’s got a magnet pulling every eye in the room. Her high heels clicked on the carpet, and she was just… she was just so fucking confident.

The Tension of Anticipation

The room was soft-lit, and the carpet made everything feel… intimate. She’s got these tattoos, you know? A small one on her upper back and this pizza slice on her ass. I mean, who the fuck gets a pizza slice tattooed on their ass? But it’s her, and it’s hot as hell. She’s got this G-string on, barely covering anything. Her friends, my friends, they’re all there, watching, waiting. And she’s just… she’s just so fucking in control. But here’s the thing, the real kicker. It’s not just about the stripping. It’s about the power, the humiliation. She’s got them all eating out of her hand, and I’m not there. I’m not the one getting that attention, that desire. She’s the star, and they’re all her fucking audience. And I’m just… I’m just the cuckold, the one who’s not good enough. But that’s what makes it so fucking hot, you know? The tension, the anticipation, the fucking power she’s got over all of us. It’s friendship, alright. A friendship I’m not sure I can handle.