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Shoes and socks removed, as was the custom whenever in this space, Alex points to an unfamiliar chair positioned in the corner of Greg’s bedroom whilst busy doing his usual tidying up. “What’s that?”
Gaze momentarily stolen from it’s current paragraph, Greg sneers, “You don’t recognize it? Come on now - I thought you’d been keeping up with the latest New Zealand series.” He sets the book aside, shifting higher up the headboard as he adjusts himself amongst the pillows. “It is your show, Alex. You should probably make sure you’re keeping abreast of what’s going on with your own show, no? It’s a cuck chair. Obviously.”
“A cuck chair?”
“A chair one sits in whilst getting cucked, yes.”
“Ah.”
Greg groans lightly as he gets to his feet, “See, I hadn’t been keeping up honestly, but turns out your wife certainly has. Now it isn’t the cuck chair, granted, but - it exudes a similar energy. We both decided yours should sit much lower - with none of the flash. We both agreed - on this one.”
“Still. Looks quite comfortable.”
“As it should. You may be sat there for quite some time after all.”
Greg’s strange smile causes Alex to lean back slightly, just a glimmer of a glint growing in through his eyes. He glances down the hall.
“Soon. But not just yet. You often prefer a surprise, don’t you. Thought we’d let you have a nice think about it for awhile first.”
*
Days went by. Weeks. And it was never mentioned again. Yet there it sat. Forever on his mind. Until …
*
Completely naked this time around, and more than a month since first laying eyes on it, Alex at long last finally takes a seat in the chair. Style-wise quite drab, yet plush to the touch, it's velvety cushion was immediately soothing against his bare cheeks. Polished hardwood arms glistened in the warm glow of the room, they tapered nearest his elbows, widening into a rounded shape that felt tailor made to grip just his fingertips about. The waiting had definitely served it’s purpose, he was brimming with intense feelings of anticipation and wonder now nestled within its confines.
Greg prods at his toes with his own. “We’ll want a better view than that.” Alex uncrosses his legs, carefully, toes splayed, flexing slightly, seeking out some small comfort in the soft, familiar fibres beneath. “Further apart for me. Good. Now – you’re probably not planning on going anywhere - are you, Alex? I reckon you don’t require any further encouragement really, you’re just happy to sit back and enjoy the show, aren’t you?”
“I won’t move, sir.” His eyes shift down and past him as he looks to his wife, who’s perched on the edge of his bed watching on passively. “I’ll be good. Promise.”
Greg moves closer, hedging in between his knees, his immense torso filling his entire field of view. “Go on then.”
With eyes crotch level, his voice served as an instinctual switch, compelling Alex into action. Undoing first his belt, then slowly unzipping his fly, fingers that lingered soon dwarfed by Greg’s own as he gently guides them back into place on their respective arm rests. He thumbs his cheek with a low growl and then continues to undress in the background, while Rachel slips from the side of the bed and begins to make more of a show of it. She sashays her way toward the chair, unclasping her bra and gradually revealing her pert breasts. Tantalizing nipples taunt, just inches from his lips. She drapes it over the head of her human clothes horse of a husband and turns, seductively bending at the hips as she slides her thong to the floor, then uses her toe to skillfully flick them across the room.
Alex’s eyes follow their arc as Greg snatches them midair, breathing them in deeply before proceeding to press them roughly across Alex’s mouth and nose. This momentary asphyxiation has him instantly drunk on sensation.
“Open up, slut.” He stuffs his mouth with the silken material and Alex sighs, eyes glazing over, already seized with internal struggle - to remain fully attentive, not to sink in to the luxury of disappearing entirely into this feeling. “Good boy. And what do we say … ?”
“Thnk y, sr.”
“For what, Alex?”
It came out even more garbled. “Fr ccking m - ?” Greg breaks into a grin.
“What was that, sweetie?” Rachel pulls the material from his mouth momentarily.
“Thank you. For … ” He gulps nervously, watching Greg’s index fingers transform into bull horns as he smirks with a prompting tilt of the head. “ … cucking me.”
He condescendingly pats at his cheek, “There’s my polite little puppy.”
“And you’re very welcome.” She pulls Greg down into a lust filled kiss, the wet sounds of which permeate Alex’s ears, their utter want for one another unmistakable.
Alex can feel his cock throb. “I hope it doesn’t count against me when bits move that I have no control over.” Untouched, it twitches once more. He glances between his legs before tossing them a cheeky wince.
“Oh I suppose we’ll allow all that.” Rachel jams his mouth once more with the underwear wad.
“But hands and feet stay put, yeah.”
He quite liked this feeling. He just preferred when it was able to be more hidden away, or more accurately, when he could more easily hide away, behind even the smallest of pretenses, when it could be made less obvious to everyone exactly how he was feeling. And now, with nipples hard and body hair standing up on end, not from any cold mind you, just from the sheer excitement of it all, it felt truly difficult to be so obviously on display, in every single way.
“I hope this doesn’t go over your head, but there’s a certain post of yours that’s taken on a life of its own, it’s been brought to my attention a number of times now, and I thought - seemed rather fitting for the occasion.” Alex’s eyes narrow as Rachel reveals a length of baby pink satin ribbon.
Greg grips him by the base. Firmly. Simply an object to hold steady. Their touch felt foreign, clinical, absent of all feeling as she looped the ribbon round the head of his cock and tied it into a neat bow. Greg pops the cap off a black marker with his teeth and uses it to scrawl up the shaft of his cock, making sure to sound it out for him – Ha Ha. Alex smiles to himself, knowingly.
“Funny, innit - thinks he can actually please anyone with this thing. Pathetic.” He draws a crude rectangular shape over his heart like a name tag, and giggles as he scribbles Hi I’m … CUCK! POINTLESS is etched across his belly, complete with two big cartoonish arrows aimed at his erection. He adds a few embellishments like come shooting from the tip. And a little star round his left nipple. He flicks it, sharply. Followed quickly by another delivered to the very tip of his dick. Alex lets out a light hiss, mostly muffled by the moistened material.
They position themselves to not in any way obstruct Alex’s view of the goings-on. Greg holds himself stiff and at the ready as Rachel climbs atop him, supporting herself on his broad shoulders as she eases herself down. He shifts to brace her back as she consumes his cock inch by delicious inch, until finally, slowly, starting to rock and writhe. Together. Bodies one. Muscles pulsing. There’re whispers between them that he cannot parse, but when they glanced in his direction it was like being given a direct emotional translation as to the sentiments being shared. That of desire. Ownership. And love.
Rachel stands as Greg repositions himself beneath her. At the centre of this grand space Alex couldn’t help but think her embodied form was that of a sacred statue. The absolute perfection of beauty. She turns to face him, and holds his gaze as she once again lowers herself down onto Greg’s straining dick, this time riding him in reverse cowgirl. Greg pulls back the hair from her face, his touch when with her was always so kind, awed even. He let her do all the hard work, he didn’t have it in him to keep up with the blistering pace she was setting, but made every effort to ensure she was comfortable and positioned best to show off her every asset to Alex, so they together could both worship her in all the ways a woman like she so deserved.
Alex watched his wife. Watched for her every nuance in expression. And he watched her watching him, watching for his every reaction. And Greg? Greg watched Alex. Watched him take it all in.
He wished he could be somehow closer, yet at the same time longed to be further removed. To no longer see any of this, yet still be able to feel all of it. Under the bed perhaps. This would be the ideal place. For being here, idly sat in this chair, felt painfully vulnerable. He forgets himself momentarily, imagining his face just beneath the mattress that supported them both, his hand drifts away to scratch at a small itch.
“Hey!”
“Hands off your face!”
“Srry,” he exhales past the panties.
He’s oozing at this point. Dick dancing arrhythmically. Drool seeping from the sides of his mouth, which he, without looking away, leans to wipe off on his shoulder. He momentarily considers making a quick move for just one touch. Just a quick ghost of the palm. Anything. But instead he valiantly fought against this swelling urge.
Their breathing becomes laboured. Nonsensical noises begin to fill the space. The animal intensity peaks. And Alex’s own breath catches as climax rips through them both before his very eyes. The material lining his mouth now steeped in saliva. They fold. Grasping at each other, weakly, as the potent energy of only seconds ago all but evaporates into thin air.
Greg slips from the bed, once more growling at the sight of him. Head glossy. Adrip from the tip. The sticky strands connecting dick to belly sparkled like glow worms in the dim light. He glides a finger along this mess. Alex instinctually opens up, forever allowing him full access. Greg captures his eyes, tosses the soaked silk aside and feeds him a taste of his own come. Two slickened fingers smear along his awaiting tongue. A satisfied sigh hums from somewhere deep within them. He explores back further - until feeling his throat lightly clench around them.
“Fetch us a water, will you, Alex.”
“With ice, sweetie.”
Suddenly remembering he can in fact still move, Alex releases his death grip on the arm rests and sidles out of the room.
He returns to the side of the bed, requested refreshment in hand and is invited to slide in between them. Ice tinks the sides of the glass as he snuggles up under the covers. Rachel kisses his flush cheek. He turns and smiles sweetly up at Greg who’s firm hand rubs the duvet over his thigh reassuringly.