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Daughter’s Boyfriend Cuckolds Me

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[All characters are 18 years of age or older.]

I first became suspicious when our doorbell camera showed me that our 18 year old daughter’s boyfriend, Greg, visited our house Wednesday afternoons. Kimmy was at her after-school job in the Mall, so why was he there? I thought it was worrying and set up down the street one day in my car.

Sure enough, I caught the little SOB railing my wife. I guess you could turn this into a porn story, but in fact, what happened was exactly what you’d expect – I threw a few punches and threw Greg’s ass out. I didn’t stay and watch. I didn’t “clean” her slutty vagina. I didn’t sit while he taunted my smaller penis. I didn’t get an erection. None of that happened; I exploded in rage, bloodied his face, and cracked one of his ribs. Shithead is lucky I don’t own a gun.

Then I threatened my wife with divorce if she ever did something like that again.

I worried for a minute that she might now assault me. She had a wild animal look in her eyes. I guess she was pumped up with frustrated sexual arousal; and then anger and defensiveness raised her blood pressure even higher. Her hair was wildly messed up, and glistening in the light I could see his and her sexual secretions running down her naked thighs. Her fingers were curled like claws.

Much later I would close my eyes, call up this image from memory, and get a throbbing erection wondering if I shouldn’t have thrown her down on the bed and reclaimed her. But I didn’t think of that in the moment.

Instead I argued with her. I said I’d tell our daughter and I’d tell her strait-laced parents. We exchanged accusations and insults for close to an hour. On and on; it was loud and nasty. Then we gave each other the silent treatment and icy stares. Nothing much was said for two days. Then my wife suddenly blurted out that she agreed we should talk about a divorce.

I was completely surprised. I hadn’t really meant it when I said it; I was just furious and enraged. I’d already forgotten I threatened it. I’ll never know, but I think I could have put the whole dirty story behind me if she had just performed her penance. We’d been married 20 years. I could excuse one slip-up if she asked me to forgive her.

But no, instead of apologizing, she said we *should* think about divorce, because she was going to “live her own life” the way she wanted. She said it was all my fault, because we had lousy sex and she was tired of pretending to enjoy it. Greg had “taught her who she really was,” whatever that means. “I never faked an orgasm for him,” she yelled at me, and I was suddenly defensive and hurt.

I snarled back that Greg had also taught me who she really was, and that she was a whore.

She went on to say that if we got a divorce she’d take half of everything, bleed me for alimony and child support, and let the whole town know I wanted a divorce because I was such a dud in bed that she took a lover and got caught.

I meekly admitted that I didn’t want any of that and that I loved her, and hoped we could be a normal couple again. The conversation didn’t end until she had manipulated me into apologizing to her for my “outrageous behavior” – sneaking around, spying with the camera, violating her privacy, assaulting a teenager. On my knees, on the floor in front of her. A real heartfelt apology.

I folded. Looking back now, I know I just loved her more than she loved me. I needed her more than she needed me. I wanted her in my bed more, a lot more, than she wanted to be there. I asked her to forgive me, and at the moment I said it, I meant it with all my heart.

And that night she did sleep in our bed with me, although all I got was a cold shoulder. She let me stew in those juices for another day then announced that “if we are going to make this a family again” I needed to apologize to Kimmy’s boyfriend. (My daughter knew nothing about what had happened – neither my wife nor Kimmy’s boyfriend had told her anything, of course.)

I agonized for hours before I made a decision. I catch a college student in bed with my wife and I’m going to ask him to forgive me? It was outrageous. Why in the world would I say I’m sorry for getting angry at a guy fucking my wife? It was emasculating.

I paced the house, going to my study. If I gave in, what would I say to Greg? How can a man apologize to the stud that made him a cuckold? If I stand firm and refuse, how will I live with the consequences? And, most difficult question of them all at that moment: why was my cock so hard?

I adjusted my erection inside my pants. I was boned like a teenager just imagining myself at Greg’s feet, groveling, a defeated cuckold loser. “My wife prefers your dick to mine; I apologize?” I moved my penis around in my pants some more, trying to lessen the discomfort. Maybe if I open my zipper? Just a little bit. Give little Donny some fresh air.

No way any of this apology thing makes sense. Why would my wife even ask this? I open my pants all the way and slowly, without giving it much thought, Niğde Escort begin stroking my foreskin back and forth over the head of my penis.

I’m not going to do it. Even if we do end up separated or divorced, how can I kneel at Greg’s feet? I’m close to losing it now. I’m seconds away from jizzing all over the place.

Kneel, and beg? A college freshman? So what if his dick was longer than mine? It doesn’t matter that my wife fucked him, and sucked him, week after week. I won’t do it. Not even though he gave her real orgasms. My resolve collapsed at the instant I sprayed the contents of my prostate gland all over myself. How could I live without my wife?


The next Wednesday afternoon Greg came to our house and I apologized to him for my violent actions. The injured rib, the bloody face. I apologized for hurting him on my knees, sitting on my heels. When my wife led her teenage lover over in front of me, I immediately had another erection. Fortunately the position I was in kept my secret.

I tried to soothe my own ego by wrapping the apology in lots of criticism of what he and my wife had done. He had “cheated on Kimmy”. He smiled at that, and my dick twitched as I suddenly had an unwanted mental image of Greg plowing my daughter’s virginal pussy.

“You seduced a married woman,” I said. “You’ve destroyed my marriage.”

My wife laughed, and said she seduced him. “It really wasn’t that great a marriage, Don,” she said, and he sneered at my humiliation. I briefly pictured my wife on *her* knees in front of Greg, tenderly lowering his pants so she could suck his cock. My erection throbbed and pulsed in my pants. I hoped I was going to be able to control myself.

Despite my criticisms of what they had done, at the end of the day I was on my knees asking the teenager who fucked my wife to forgive me for getting so angry. My bitch wife sat smirking through the whole thing, enjoying my degradation.

She rose from the couch but told me to stay on my knees. Her plan was to humiliate me even more in the position I was in. I was happy to stay put because if I stood they’d see how sexually aroused I had become. Tracy went behind Greg and embraced him from behind. He had been sneering at me, too, a few moments ago, but he wasn’t sure right now what his girlfriend’s mother was going to do. Greg had assumed he’d be leaving at this point, and so had I.

Tracy’s left hand reached around his chest and pressed backward on his sternum, bringing him into her tight embrace. Her right hand dropped below his belt and began an open-handed stroking of the front of his trousers. I stared straight ahead, watching his penis expand in his pants. None of us spoke or moved. Her hand went back and forth. His cock lengthened towards his knee. My mouth was dry. I was getting close to another orgasm, this time hands-free.

Tracy then began to tease us both. “I liked your cock, Greg. Kimmy is so lucky. Have you fucked our daughter yet, Greg? Don, do you see how nice Greg’s dick is? Can you blame me for wanting to try it out? Of course not; you already apologized to me, too. Hear that, Greg? This big strong man on his knees in front of you apologized to me for interrupting us the other day. Now he’s apologized to you, too, stud. Doesn’t that make you hot? Are you going to cum in your pants for me now that the big bad husband asked you to forgive him? Cum baby. Show my husband how much you cum.”

Tracy stopped her babbling when Greg groaned loudly and blasted his jizz into his pants. “Go now, sugar. I’m sorry you can’t come back, either, because I really enjoyed your cock. But you and I are done. Keep screwing our daughter, OK?” And she closed the door on him, leaving him standing on our front porch with a wet load of slime in his pants.

My wife leaned back against the door and sneered at me, still on my knees. “Did that make you hard again, pussy man? You sure were staring at Greg’s cock, huh? Or are you disappointed I didn’t fuck him one last time, just so you could watch?”

I remained mute. I was too proud to let Tracy know how well she understood me. Only after she left the room did I rise to my feet. Then I went down the hall, masturbated into the toilet, and flushed my unwanted sperm down the drainpipe.

As far as I know Greg never set foot in my house again. Three weeks later he broke up with my daughter and moved on with his life. Four weeks after *that* Kimmy told her Mom that she was pretty sure she was pregnant. The little shit had gotten even with us all.


Even now, years later, I’m a little embarrassed to admit how it all turned out. For one thing, my daughter terminated the pregnancy, a decision my wife and I agreed with. I know abortion is a very emotional and controversial topic and don’t want to debate it here. Secondly, my wife forced me to agree to “open” our marriage, by which she means she can do what she wants with other men. She insists I phone home before leaving the office so that I don’t “embarrass her” when I get Niğde Escort Bayan home. Embarrass her. Not me, not him. It’s all about her.

Kimmy figured out that Greg had screwed her mother, and that’s why they broke up about a month after the incident. (Listen to me. “The incident.” Shithead kid fucks my wife and daughter and it’s ‘an incident’. WTF is wrong with me?)

Once our marriage was opened, there were some men (and a few boys) around the house in the afternoons Kimmy worked at the Mall. She left work early one day, found a strange car in our driveway, and pretty much caught Tracy in the act. She thought back to the fact that her old boyfriend used to service her Mom, and knew what she’d find inside the house.

Funny thing is she wasn’t angry or horrified, she was curious. She perved a while, peeking in on them in the act, fascinated by how long they went at each other before finishing. Her own few sex encounters hadn’t lasted very long, a few minutes at most before Shithead got his rocks off and knocked her up.

Kimmy watched her Mother riding on top of her lover’s penis, rolling her hips and twerking her ass to bring herself to climax. Tracy’s lover lay under her, pinching and twisting her nipples, calling her a dirty slut. Kimmy shivered when she thought that those nipples had once fed her. Watching her mom in action was revelatory. Kimmy thought sex was a guy on top of a women, doing all the work. Her extremely athletic and energetic slut mother was burning off the calories humping herself up and back down on a stiff dick. The woman can fuck the man? Who knew?


Later Kimmy got her Mom to explain what an open marriage is, and why she enjoyed sex with different men. Kimmy seemed to understand the basics: some guys fuck better than others like some guys dance better than others. Tracy explained that boys always orgasm and girls often get left unsatisfied. Kimmy asked about my penis, if it was big enough or wide enough.

Tracy said my cock was average, which is true. She added that “average” means half the dicks on the plant are even bigger, which is also true. Kimmy’s mom told her that a woman could have as much penis as she wanted if she just shopped around for the right size.

Kimmy understood her Mom’s point of view, but on the following Saturday she asked *ME* questions about why I didn’t mind her mother’s behavior. Wasn’t I jealous? Hurt? Angry?

Tracy was out of the house, so it was just the two of us at the kitchen table having a heart-to-heart. I tried to emphasize the difference between two consenting, mature adults and some high school kid taking a girl’s V-card having unprotected sex. I said that cheating was bad for relationships, but that her Mom and I giving each other some private space wasn’t adultery. I said that people aren’t possessions – no one could “take” Tracy from me.

She argued with me: “But Dad, if he takes her love, if he takes her lust, if Mom stops ‘wanting’ you, she’s really not there anymore, is she?” Kimmy was wiser than I gave her credit for.

It was difficult for me to tell my teenage daughter about her mom’s feeling that I “wasn’t enough” for her. The fact that we were alone did loosen my tongue. I don’t think I could have discussed my own supposed sex inadequacies frankly with my daughter in front of her mother, but this was “a safe space” for me somehow, and Kimmy was “a woman” now, even though I wasn’t thrilled with how *that* happened.

We actually shared a few laughs when the conversation drifted to penis sizes. My daughter asked me if I wished I had an above-average penis. I said I was content with my lot. Then she asked if her mother wished I had a bigger penis?

“What did Mom tell you when you asked her that question?” I replied.

My daughter didn’t answer for a moment. Then I saw pity in her eyes, and I knew the answer before she whispered it. I felt like a little boy when she tenderly touched my cheek and said “Oh, Daddy, Mommy can be really mean. I don’t want to say.”

No more laughing now, I blushed as she talked about Greg’s penis, and how it had hurt so much the first time. I really didn’t want to picture what she was so colorfully describing. “Dad, Greg’s penis is so thick, and it has a big upward curve, and once I was used to it, he made me orgasm every time. He said the curve banged my G-spot. It felt so good. Can an ‘average’ penis make me crazy like Greg did?”

The devil made me briefly conjure up a picture of my thin, straight, very average penis plunging in and out of Kimmy’s not very experienced vagina, never hitting the G-spot. I shivered with lust and self-loathing simultaneously as I imagined that she would barely know I was in, I would cum too soon, and she would pity me.

As we talked, Kimmy’s attitude towards me changed. Gone was any sign she was angry at or embarrassed by her Mom, or ashamed of me for being a wimp. She even held my hand for the parts where I hesitated to finish an answer. I was happy that even though events Escort Niğde had pulled me apart from my wife, they brought me and my daughter closer together. I felt safe with her, protected somehow.

In the months ahead, as Tracy became a raging storm, promiscuously fucking man after man, treating me with disdain, Kimmy would be my safe harbor. I could talk to her, and she would put her arm around my shoulders, and I could calm down in her embrace. She never criticized her mother, but she never defended her either. She always cared what I thought. I felt safe when she put her arms around me and held me, and it didn’t bother me at all that I was acting like a troubled child and she was assuming the role of unconditionally loving parent.


Tracy figured that since Kimmy knew about her Dad being a cuckold, there was no longer need to have dates only on Wednesdays. Kimmy soon got familiar with my wife’s boyfriends spending afternoons at the house. If this wasn’t a true story I’d write some scenes where the guys hit on my luscious daughter, but in fact, not one of Tracy’s three boyfriends ever made a move on, or even spoke inappropriately to our daughter.

And for all that’s wrong with Tracy, she kept the bedroom door closed, literally and figuratively. Kimmy complained to me that “Mom won’t even talk about it”, so she and I had more heart-to-heart talks about sex, and cuckolds, and cocks.

Tracy was tempted to start a “trial separation”. The two of us talked about how we felt about each other and the financial problems if she or I rented an apartment. Tracy claimed she didn’t want a divorce. She said she still “mostly” loved me, but that maybe we needed to live apart so that she could “fully empower ourselves”. We could both have outside “physical stuff”. I think she was either kidding herself or lying to me.

I found that as days passed without intimacy, I cared less and less what Tracy thought of me or our marriage. I didn’t actively want her out of my life, but I didn’t get much happiness out of living under the same roof with her, either. I started staying up later than Tracy, kissing her goodnight when she went to bed, and then going to sleep later in the third bedroom.


The problem sort of resolved itself as she began overnighting at her boyfriends’ apartments. She had three lovers, and they were all single men in their early 20s. Two of them had male roommates, and much later I learned that Tracy would have sex with the roommates, too, when they wanted. So she had five cocks to choose from and never needed to settle for mine. Dinner at our house on sleep-over nights were just me and my daughter, both of us trying not to imagine where Tracy was, and what she was doing.

Maybe because I was no longer emotionally connected to my wife, I began reading and watching more cheating wife stuff on the Internet. Masturbation was my only relief, so I beat my cock silly every night, stroking myself with, and then ejaculating into, a dirty pair of Tracy’s panties. What with all her activities, it was harder and harder to find a pair in the hamper that didn’t have sperm already in them when I found them. She was coming home from her playdates with other guys’ jizz just drooling out of her, collecting in her panties. I started to prefer the wet panties to the dry ones. Something about stroking my dick in her lovers’ sperm in her soggy panties made me blast buckets.


One day the bedroom hamper was empty so I went to the laundry closet to search for a pair in the basket there. I had to make do with a dry panty, which I put back in the laundry basket when I had filled it with my swimmers. After dinner that night Kimmy came out of the closet holding the panties at arm’s length away from herself between pinched fingers. They were hers, not Tracy’s. I’d innocently whacked a load into my daughter’s underwear, and she was furious and disgusted.

Tracy was sleeping out that night, so Kimmy and I were home together. Kimmy tossed them at me and said I owed her an apology. Of course, she was right, so I started to say I was sorry. Before I could finish a sentence she told me to shut up and stomped out of the room.

I wanted to give her time to cool off, so I didn’t try to follow her. A few moments later I realized she wasn’t coming back, and also that her panties were on the table.

I stared at them and tried to resist the temptation to pick them up. My resolve lasted less than a minute and I soon had my nose in the crotch, trying wildly to smell any difference between my daughter’s dirty panties and her mother’s. All I could smell was my own seminal fluid. That was good enough to kindle my lust, and my penis hardened in my trousers.

About 15 minutes later I heard her door open and she came down the hall to talk more to me. She snatched her panties off of the table and tossed them towards the laundry closet.

“Look, Dad, I’m a grown woman. I know about masturbation. I do it myself. And Mom told me a while ago about your habits – the swinger porn and your panty fetish. She even used to show me her panties in her hamper after you had finished with them and put them back. Mom thinks you’re pathetic for ejaculating in her laundry instead of, well, you know where a husband is expected to cum, don’t you?”

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