Reluctant Cuckold by David McManus

maybe mid-fifties, but I could tell he was checking my wife out as he talked; he was obviously staring at her tits.
     
    We got back on our bikes, and Ashley yelled back, “Hurry up, slow-poke.”
     
    Staring at her as ass, I followed quickly behind.
     
    We arrived at some sort of facility. Then we saw a bunch of men looking at us from behind a chain fence.
     
    “Oh my God,” Ashley said, “I think there’s a big psychiatric center here, like for the violently deranged.”
     
    She was right. I looked it up when we got home. That was exactly what it looked like. No one behind the fence appeared in any way normal.
     
    “What do you say, Ash,” I asked, “do any of them loonies have a face that says ‘you’re the only one who understands me, please take me home’?”
     
    Ashley punched me playfully in the side. That felt good. Next we attempted the bike path on the Triborough Bridge. It’s insanely steep, so we quickly switched to walking our bikes.
     
    “This is a bridge for Sir Edmund Hillary,” Ashley remarked.
     
    Once we got to the flat part, where the bridge really begins, we had second thoughts.
     
    “What do you say we just ride back down and start heading home?” she said.
     
    “Sounds good to me.”
     
    And so I followed behind her as we glided back down. It was as long as a ski trail, reminded me of the Alpine Slide I’d taken as a kid. I watched her hair fly and her exhilaration as she looked back at me. Remember this moment , I said to myself. Appreciate this. Savor it. A wonderful day with my wife .
     
****
     
    Sunday 4 a.m. and I couldn’t get back to sleep. I’d ejaculated prematurely again with Ashley and was thinking back to the night of the party fuck.
     
    How Ashley could have let this guy just walk in there and sperm her pussy, knowing I was outside.
     
    I mean really, Ashley, I thought. Did Jim Murta spend every day of the last five years working on building a relationship with you? Did he spend 20K on a 2+ carat ring with a nice diamond cut? Did his parents pony up $30,000 to help cover the cost of your wedding? Did he take three days off from work last spring when you were sick? Did he take you on trips to Europe, Hawaii, Brazil and the Caribbean? Did he contribute $80,000 of his own money to help with the down payment on our apartment? Did he drive you down to Virginia when your grandmother was in the hospital? Does he take care of your bills and finances and do your taxes each year? Does he hug you when you need a hug?
     
    No, of course not. He’s done none of that. It’s me. I’ve done all that.
     
    I’ve invested everything for five years, and this guy just walks in, fucks you bare, sperms your pussy, knowing I’m right outside, and walks back out to the party.
     
    Had he given a rat’s ass that I was there? Of course not.
     
    He didn’t hesitate for a second. He probably got off on the fact I was there. An extra notch on his belt. Fucking a married colleague with her husband outside. It probably added to the thrill. Getting Ashley to be so slutty, while her own husband bumbled around oblivious, right outside.
     
    Had he worried at all that I would find out? No, he blabbed away. And blabbed away the extra humiliating detail of busting his nut up inside her. Talk about not giving a fuck.
     
    And what did it say about Ashley that she would let him fuck her? What a slut she must have seemed. His cock looked so appetizing, delicious, and significantly bigger than mine that she just had to have it.
     
    I went to the bathroom and got on the sink.
     
    He must have felt like the king of the world. What a chump I must have seemed like to him.
     
    I pictured him calling me that to my wife, getting Ashley to say it back to him as she looked at herself being fucked in the mirror: “I’m getting fucked … with my chump husband … right outside.”
     
    “You’re about to get your pussy seeded Ashley, now say it …”
     
    “I’m about to have my pussy