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Hubby Bends Over

Andrea Martin

Copyright 2018 Andrea Martin

Smashwords Edition

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The best part of having a cuckold like Josh for a husband is how much goddamn fun I get to have every single day of my life. Being a cuckoldress is one of those things that people will never understand unless they experience it for themselves. Check this out, for instance. Last night, my husband sucked my toes. Why, you ask? Because I told him to. I just had a mani-pedi and really wanted to keep feeling pampered. I laid on the bed and gave him an order and he did as he was told. The best part about it all was that my husband paid for the mani-pedi, and the reason I had that done is because my boyfriend is taking me away for a filthy fuck vacation this weekend. I get all the joys of being married, with absolutely none of the downsides.

It makes me laugh when I hear the girls in the office bitching about their useless husbands and how crap the men in their lives can be. What’s that, Karen? Your husband forgot to empty the dishwasher? Don’t make me laugh – mine waited in the car while my Tinder date bent me over his couch and fucked me so hard I couldn’t sit down the next day.

Becoming a cuckoldress is one of the best decisions I ever made. It helps that my husband is already naturally submissive and I’m the kind of woman many people refer to as kind of a bitch. (I thought I was an alpha female go-getter, but bitch is good, too). Hubby and I have a good marriage, but after a few years, it was clear that we were starting to have issues. My high-profile job earns about four times as much as his, so we agreed that he would become a house husband. He seemed to enjoy that, so we slowly started to explore his submissiveness together, both in and out of the bedroom. First, we started only having sex when I wanted it – and how and where I wanted it. My job is highly stressful and frustrating, so I like to enjoy lots of rough, energetic, hard sex when I get home. Those few short hours I get to be with my husband are the hours I look forward to the most, and I hate wasting them.

Unfortunately, my husband soon proved unable to keep up with my voracious appetite. When I climax, I want to go again, immediately. When Josh climaxes, his cock wilts like a deflating balloon and he needs at least an hour to recharge. That does not fly with me, no sir. I get what I want.

Maybe it was only a matter of time before we progressed from Josh orally pleasing my unsatisfied and hungry pussy to me insisting that something needed to change. If he wasn’t up to the task of making sure his wife was pampered, pleasured, and thoroughly fucked, then someone else was going to have to do it instead.

He did not take long to warm to the idea. My sweet man went from caring house husband to obedient beta cuckold in record time. Our marriage grew stronger and my sex life hit the stratosphere and neither one of us have looked back since. Now barely a week goes by that I don’t experience the kind of rough, hard, intense, all-consuming sex that I so desperately require from a lover. And as for Josh – he loves hearing my stories. Sometimes, when I get home, we lay in bed together and I slowly, softly, gently whisper in his ear all the naughty things I did with another man and my sweet, caring, cuckold husband comes in his pants with anybody touching him.

It’s been almost ten months since I took up the role of cuckoldress in my marriage and Josh hasn’t fucked me once in all that time. The most action he gets is my hand – or, if I’m feeling especially kinky – I’ll sit on his face and let him enjoy everything my lover left behind, but that hasn’t happened for about two months now. These days, the most my husband gets to enjoy my body is when he hands me a towel after my shower, or peeks through the crack in the door while I dress for work. I took control of his pleasure a long time ago…

I sit in the break room at the office, staring through the window at the gray buildings beyond, my fingers absent-mindedly toying with the key hanging from the chain around my neck. Back when I first started wearing it, some people asked me why I have a key on necklace. I always gave the same response – a coy smile, followed by the words, ‘It’s a gift from my husband. It’s the key to his heart.’ People always thought it was so cute. They had no clue that it’s really the key to the tight metal prison that keeps my husband’s penis locked up tight, only to be released when – and if – I deem it necessary for him to receive pleasure. Naturally, I haven’t touched his penis for around three months now. What’s the point in giving him a handjob when he hasn’t earned it? If Josh was capable of pleasuring my pussy in the manner that a Goddess like me deserves, then why would I waste my energy jerking his little cock?

Around me, I hear the vague gossip of the other women in the office, bitching about their husbands and boyfriends, their sex lives and the general state of their homes. It takes all my energy to refrain from saying, ‘All you gotta do is lock up his dick, girls. You’ll be amazed how much better your life gets.’ I toy with the key a little more, smiling at nothing in particular. I like to imagine that Josh’s cage gets a little tighter every time my fingers brush the key. Wherever he is right now – grocery shopping, doing chores, watching TV – he’ll feel the pinch of unyielding metal around his shaft and balls and know that I am taking pleasure in his pain.

He’s such a good husband like that.

I glance at my watch. Half past three on a Friday afternoon. The working week is almost over, thank the lord. Everyone is looking forward to the weekend, to heading home and enjoying themselves for forty-eight hours and not have to think about anything work-related. As for me, I have other plans. Once five o’clock hits, I’m heading straight over to my current boyfriend’s apartment to spend the entire weekend lost in erotic bliss. I’m so looking forward to it – Chris always gives me the kind of hot, hard, heavy fuck I deserve. Josh gave me his blessing – not that he had much choice in the matter – so long as I told him everything and took plenty of videos.

My phone buzzes on the table, flashing my boyfriend’s name. I snatch it up and head back to my office before answering the call. Last thing I want is all these gossipy bitches overhearing me talking to a man who is not my husband about all the filthy sex we’re going to have for the next two days.

‘Hello lover,’ I say, pushing the office door shut with my heel. ‘I was just thinking about you.’

‘Something good, I hope?’ Chris says, an edge of humor in his voice.

‘Always. What’s up? Can’t wait another couple hours to have me?’

‘Actually…’ I hear resignation in Chris’s voice. ‘I’m really sorry, Megan…’

I lean against the edge of my desk, already knowing what he’s going to say. All my adrenaline and excitement and energy fades away, like a pan of water coming off the boil.

I listen in silence as Chris explains that his plans have changed at the last minute. Clients, meetings, projects. Whatever. All I can hear is the sound of my pussy groaning in frustration.

Dammit! This was supposed to be our big, sexy weekend! Now what am I supposed to do?

‘I’m really sorry,’ Chris says. ‘We’ll definitely do it another time.’

‘Yeah, fine,’ I say, not even trying to hide how pissed off I am. ‘Gimme a call next week.’

I hang up and stay where I am for a moment, leaning against the desk with the phone in my hand. All those naughty, wicked, deeply erotic fantasies I’d been imagining throughout the week just went straight down the tubes. All the delicious scenarios Chris had whispered to me over the phone while Josh ate my puss – gone, just like that.

‘Fuck,’ I say, to nobody in particular. To say that I’m frustrated right now is a fucking understatement. I’ve been craving this all week. Hell, I’ve been counting on having this wild, spectacular weekend of free-for-all fucking to the point where it was the only release I was going to enjoy. Now I’m just gonna go home to my husband like all the other sad sack clueless women in this office.


A naughty voice whispers in the back of my mind. The same naughty voice that gives me all my good ideas – like locking Josh’s cock in a cage, or getting new boyfriends, or taking control of my own sex life. That naughty voice whispers, telling me a brand-new idea. A really fun, sexy idea. An idea that brings a cruel smile to my face.

I dial home and lift the phone to my ear. Josh answers on the third ring.

‘Hello?’ he says.

‘You took your time answering,’ I say, my voice pitched somewhere between mocking cruelty and amusement.

‘Hello Megan,’ my husband says. ‘I’m sorry, I was in the kitchen.’

I can picture the scene. My trained house husband, bent over the sink, scrubbing the dishes. One day I’ll have to get him a little maid’s outfit. That image brings a smile to my face.

‘I’m calling because Chris had to bail on me,’ I say, absent-mindedly playing with a button on my pants. ‘Something came up, so this weekend is a bust.’

‘Aw, no!’ Josh says. My husband sounds even more disappointed than me that I won’t be getting fucked into oblivion tonight. ‘What’re you gonna do instead? Want me to call around, see who’s free?’

My sweet, cuckolded husband. How many other men would volunteer to call around his wife’s friends and find out who’s free to fuck her pussy raw that night? I bet the other women in this office would melt if they ever got such an offer.

‘Thanks,’ I say, ‘but not today. I can’t wait that long. I need to fuck the second I get home.’

‘I’ll do anything you need,’ Josh says, subservient to the last.

‘I know you will,’ I say, toying with the key around my neck again. Can he feel it? Does the cage get a fraction tighter around his cock? I wish it did. ‘But I really need to fuck tonight. You understand me? I want to fuck you tonight, Josh.’

There is a split-second pause on the other end of the line as my husband registers what I’ve just said. I can picture him standing in the living room, phone gripped tight by his ear. Maybe his hands are still caked in bubbles. Maybe he’s wearing his lounging shorts.

‘M-me?’ My husband’s stutter is adorable. He’s like a little lost puppy who needs guidance and control and stimulation at all times.

‘Yes,’ I say, putting a coy, seductive edge to my tone, like I would when making plans with any of my boyfriends. ‘I want to fuck you. Would you like that?’

‘Yes!’ He says, his eagerness getting the better of him for a crazy second. He takes a moment to collect himself and says again, ‘Yes. I would love that. If you want to, of course.’

‘I would like to fuck you,’ I say, lifting up the key and trailing it over my lips. It smells metallic. Tangy. Still new. Barely used. ‘But only if you’re capable of doing what I want. I like it rough and hard and animalistic, can you do that for me, Josh?’

I hear him swallow. How tight is that cage pinching him now, I wonder?

‘I can do that,’ he says, his voice hollow. He’s already picturing how he thinks this night is going to play out. I guarantee that he is dead fucking wrong on all counts.

‘Good,’ I say, soothing him, putting him at ease. ‘Here’s what is going to happen. When I finish work, I’m gonna make a quick stop before coming home. If you want me to fuck you, you’re gonna have all your chores finished.’

‘They are!’ he says, interrupting me in his eagerness.

And,’ I say, emphasizing my displeasure, ‘you will be wearing your special panties and a pair of stockings.’

There is a pause on the other end. He’s reluctant to talk again in case he interrupts.

‘Is that clear?’ I say.

‘Yes, my Goddess,’ Josh says.

‘Good. Run along now. You’ve got a long night ahead.’

I hang up the phone, a wicked smile on my face. He has no fucking idea what’s in store for him tonight.


The rest of my day passes fairly quickly and I have a sly smile on my face until the time finally hits five. I leave the office with everyone else, wishing a good weekend to all and sundry. Friday evening traffic isn’t too bad, either. I listen to my own playlist on the drive home – a special getting in the mood playlist – and feel the beat begin to take over, my hips swaying and grinding in the car seat. It’s a shame I won’t be getting the raw, unrestrained, animalistic fuck I sorely need this weekend, but if tonight goes according to plan, I could have a lot of fun instead.

I make a quick stop on the way home to pick up a little something special for tonight. I don’t buy gifts for Josh – usually he showers me with flowers or dinners or whatever – but today I’m making an exception. It’s been a long time since I let him have any fun, so this is going to be a special evening for him. I hope he appreciates all the effort I’m making.

It’s almost six fifteen by the time I roll the car into the driveway and kill the engine. Night has already come and there’s frost in the air outside. It’s gonna be a cold evening. I put my special purchase in my handbag and get out of the car and walk to the front door. As always, my husband opens it as I approach, holding it ready for me like a devoted butler.

‘Hi!’ Josh says, his eyes bright with excitement. He wears a bathrobe, his stocking-clad feet emerging from the bottom. I can see a bare chest through the V-shaped opening in the robe. ‘Did you have a good day, my love?’

I shrug and say, ‘It was fine. Nothing special.’

‘I’m sorry your boyfriend canceled,’ he says. ‘I know how much you were looking forward to it.’

I walk past him into the house and drop my keys on the hook, still clutching my bag. I want to keep the contents of my purchase a surprise for Josh.

‘His loss is your gain,’ I say. ‘Can you grab my overnight bag from the trunk?’

Josh glances out at the car, then down at his feet. I can almost hear him trying to decide if it’s safe for him to walk outside, dressed like that. After a moment’s hesitation, my husband obeys, like he always does.

‘Sure thing,’ he says, taking a step toward the door.

I snap my fingers and he stop immediately.

‘I’m gonna grab a shower and get myself ready,’ I say. ‘I’ll need the robe.’ I hold out my hand, an expectant expression on my face.

Any other husband might protest at this. A real man might try and stand up to me and say something like, Why can’t you use the other robe? or tell me to get lost. But Josh is not like all the other husbands out there. Josh is well trained and obedient and knows that I enjoy humiliating him.

My husband glances outside again – making sure the street is still quiet and empty – and slips the robe off his shoulders with a reluctant grimace. I fight to conceal a grin, forcing myself to appear bored, as though such a gut-wrenching and humiliating experience is simply par for the course. Josh takes off the robe, standing in our open doorway wearing only the items I instructed him to wear earlier – a pair of my panties and stockings. He’s chosen a pair of black panties with a little pink bow on the front. Not the sexiest pair, but definitely feminine. His cock cage is totally visible, the metal ridges causing a series of obvious bumps and bulges in the underwear. Nobody would see that and believe that it was his manhood. I can also see that his shaved his pubic hair for me, leaving his tiny cage utterly exposed. His legs look great in the stockings – smooth and feminine and cute. The best part of seeing him in stockings is that I know he would have been forced to shave his legs to put them on. There is nothing more emasculating for a man than the sensation of shaving his own legs, forced to remove something that defines him as a man. It always gives me a wicked thrill to make him humiliate himself for my entertainment. Like now, for instance.

Josh hands me the robe and steps outside, wearing only his stockings and panties. I watch him walk down the driveway, his cute little butt clenched in fear. Who knows how many of our neighbors might catch a peek of him right now? The shame and adrenaline must be causing that cage to pinch his little cock all over again.

I wait until he’s opened the trunk before I close the front door with a loud, definitive thud and lock it. Maybe the back door is open and he’ll creep around the house, dressed like a pervert, carrying a bag filled with my naughty underwear and lubes and sex toys. Maybe he’ll be locked outside until after my shower. Either way, it doesn’t matter to me. I head upstairs and strip naked and step into the shower, letting the warm water cleanse my body of the working week. It feels so wonderful. My hands rub lotion into my wet skin, making me feel fresh and alive again.

My fingers cup my breasts a couple of times. Part of me wishes that Chris was here to help me clean up. The feel of his hands on my bare tits always sends a shiver of delight through my body, but I’m never sure if it’s because I love the touch of a new lover, or because I know Josh would go fucking crazy with impotent jealousy if he ever got the chance to watch me fuck another man. Josh has asked if I will fuck my lovers in front of him. I’m considering it, but I much prefer the tease and torment he endures while waiting for me to come home from my dates.

I stay under the water for a few moments longer, letting my body be thoroughly cleansed and soothed by the warm cascade. My hands tease and caresses my mound, enjoying how smooth the bare skin feels. I treated myself to a wax in anticipation of this weekend, but it looks like that was pointless. Maybe – if Josh is a very good, very lucky husband – he’ll get to see my perfectly bare pussy for himself. I’m pretty sure he’s never seen that before. Shaved, yes, but not utterly bare and smooth like this. I love the feeling of trailing my fingers over my smooth mound. It makes me feel like a sexy, slutty goddess. Like the most beautiful, desirable woman on earth. I love the way men’s eyes light up when they take my panties off and see my bare lips for themselves.

All right, I’ve been in the shower long enough now. Time to get out and have my fun.

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