Husband to Cuckold… & Worse

Chapter One

Chapter One

Robert & Gilly

Robert Upson was amazed.

Stunned.

Sickened.

The cause of all these reactions being the behaviour — more pertinently at this stage, words — of his wife and partner, Gilly.

Robert had been Gilly’s husband for over fifteen years and, having reached his mid- forties while she was only halfway through her thirties, he considered then a happy couple. The difference in their ages and his natural assertiveness had ensured he had led their relationship and now, though his previous business had foundered, the current one was going well and they were comfortable — though he had not been at all keen to put all assets and the new business itself into Gilly’s name; even if the previous bankruptcy would have meant his creditors coming for the assets of the new and more profitable incarnation if he hadn’t. But then, he had thought at the time, Gilly was neither interested nor clued-up when it came to such matters and he was still running things anyway. What difference did it make if it were her name and her name alone to whom their assets were assigned?

All the difference in the world, he was about to find out.

“You can’t be that surprised, Robert,” she told him as they drove home from the office party he had organised to celebrate the third successful year of his new enterprise. “You know you haven’t been coming up to scratch in the bedroom for some time now.”

She thought about it, then added:

“If ever.”

He looked at her, horrified, having known no such thing.

Sex was good between them and always had been.

Hadn’t it?

“You might be handsome but you’re not exactly built to give a woman pleasure, are you.”

It wasn’t a question.

Despite the fact she was the one bringing up such an unsavoury subject, not to mention ‘course of action’, it was Robert who felt wrong-footed:

“I… I’ve never pretended to be anything other than…”

“Tiny?” she offered, with a giggle full of a malice he had never heard, nor expected to hear, in his years with her.

“I was about to say ‘average’,” he corrected her.

“Well, now you know. You’re not average. You’re f*****g small.”

It was, he would tell himself later when he was in a condition to think semi-clearly, a night of firsts.

First her offer and then this, the first time he had heard her swear since their meeting all those years ago.

But what had brought it on so suddenly?

Or, more to the point, who.

She had spent much of the night, drinking and chatting, with his straitlaced office-manager and number-two, Nirupa Devi. A young Indian woman over twenty years his junior he knew couldn’t stand him and one he only kept on by virtue of her unfailing efficiency. He had long suspected the young woman was something of a man-hater and if he discovered it was something she said that had triggered this uncharacteristic behaviour in his, admittedly tipsy, wife she would be out of his company on her arse. Being efficient at what she did for him and liked by the rest of the staff while he, deliberately keeping what he saw as a necessary distance between boss and employees, was, to put it mildly, was not, would not save her.

That, though, was something he would come back to later.

For the moment, the wife who suddenly seemed a stranger to him was speaking again:

“I just think it’s time we spiced things up a bit,” she told him from the passenger seat of their new Audi convertible; yet more evidence of the success he had made of the new company to go along with the new house and the four-wheel drive she had asked for and been given.

“By swinging?” he asked, horrified, never having suspected her to have had any such inclinations — and about to find out he was right. “By having other partners? What’s got into you?”

Thoughtfully, Gilly twisted a lock of her short, page-boy cut, blonde hair between her fingers and allowed herself a wry smile, knowing there were a lot of things that would soon be getting into her — and none of them would belong to him.

“Actually,” she began, “I wasn’t thinking of you when I mentioned seeing other people.”

Alternating his concentration between wife and road, he gave her a quizzical look, a part of him sure this was some elaborate leg-pull she playing on him.

He would not be sure for long.

“As you have said many times,” she went on, “how completely I satisfy you when it comes to s*x and how you couldn’t imagine being with anyone else,” there would hardly be any point in you being free to play the field.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about having a husband so grateful for the fact his wife rings his bells in the bedroom he is willing to remain totally loyal while she finds other partners who can do the same for her.”

“You’re drunk, Gilly,” he accused, praying as he did so that this was indeed the case.

With a motion that could not be construed as anything other than s****l and was not lost upon a husband who still adored her shapely legs as much as he obsessed over the rest of her body, she smoothed her hands down pantyhose clad thighs and began to knead the backs of her calves.

“I may have had a couple more than usual, darling, but I’m totally sober so you had better believe I’m serious. For once, I want to be taken, Robert. To have myself filled by a man with a long thick c**k who knows how to use it”

With an effort of will, he managed to keep the Audi on the road, still praying that, despite her protestations, that she was not sober and that those “couple more than usual’, had indeed affected her sobriety.

It also struck him with some force that there was in vino veritas.

“I’ve emailed some stuff to your computer from my laptop,” she went on, as if she had just told him her preferences of holiday destinations and sent him the brochures.

Unable to speak, more shocked than angry — though he knew that emotion would kick in later — it was all he could do to keep himself half-concentrated on the road as she went on:

“I want you to have a good read when we get home,” she told him and, somehow, it seemed like an order, “then spend the night in the spare-room to think it over.”

“Sp-Spare room?” he managed to gasp.

“I don’t want you pestering me with your little c**k tonight,” she nodded. “That’s why the door will be locked.”