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    shem is offline Junior Member shem is on a distinguished road
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    Default A Cuckold's Paradise

    This is a story I wrote a few years ago and posted in the old cuck forum. Hope you enjoy it ...

    A Cuckold’s Paradise

    By Shem

    I was dreaming that I was a real man. I dreamed I was about to make love to my wife, to fill her up and satisfy her as she had never been satisfied before. I awoke with a slight erection. My hopes raised, I looked over at my wife, Julia. Her beauty was undimmed at 42, and the dappled morning light coming through the curtains gave her long blonde hair an enchanting shimmer. I crept between her long slender legs. I am only 55’’ tall to her somewhat Amazonian 510’’, so we had always made an awkward couple in bed. I looked at my wife’s beautiful pussy, and prepared my attempt to enter her. She rubbed her eyes, then shot me a bemused but bored look, a look that said she had been here before and knew what was coming. Sure enough, as soon as the struggling little tip of my penis touched her pussy, it shrank back like a snail, reducing from 5 inches to 1 inch in a second. I slumped away from her, frustrated and humiliated.
    “Its OK, Philip”, she said, leaning over and stroking my thinning hair.
    “Its not OK”, I said. “It must be a year since we made love properly. I can’t imagine how frustrating this is for you. I feel like a pathetic failure.”
    “Hey there …”, she remonstrated. “Its not such a big deal. Lets just say its not one of your strong points. Some guys are great in bed, some guys are great at taking care of their family. You’re a great guy, in so many ways.”
    “Just not in that way.”
    “No, Philip”, she admitted. “Not in that way.”
    I gulped. I knew what I wanted to say but couldn’t bring myself to say the words. Words I had been trying to say for weeks, and thinking about saying for months, but had never been able to summon the courage. This time, finally, I forced the words out.
    “Julia honey. Now please, don’t get angry, just hear me out. You know I love you and I want you to be happy, right?”
    “Yes, Philip, I know that. What is it?”
    “Well …”, my throat went dry as I tried to mouth the words.
    “God dammit, Philip, what is it?”
    “Well … have you … have you ever thought of … of … you know … taking a … taking a lover?”
    The lengthy pause told me the real answer. Then she replied.
    “Of course … of course not! How could you ask me that?”
    “Because if you wanted to, well … I would understand. I wouldn’t stand in your way.”
    I shivered slightly as I said it. There was another long pause.
    “But what about Becky?”, she asked.
    I shuddered at her blunt practicality. She was clearly taking this seriously. Our daughter Becky had just turned 16, and was apparently the first thing my wife had thought of as an obstacle to her taking a lover. Not fidelity, not her marriage vows, just how it could be done without our daughter finding out.
    “Well”, I said, “I guess you’d have to be very discreet.”
    She kissed me on the forehead.
    “Thank you honey”, she said. “You’re such a doll. That’s so considerate of you. I’ll give it some thought.”

    For the next couple of weeks I agonized over the conversation we had had, replaying it endlesssly in my head and wondering whether, or when, Julia would broach the subject again, or act on what we had discussed. When I looked to her for signs, she seemed distant and thoughtful. But she did seem more content than she had previously, so I supposed that was a good thing.

    One evening, I was busy making dinner while Julia sat at the kitchen table going through her mail.
    “Do you remember Roy?”, she asked me.
    “Your brother’s friend Roy? Of course. How could I forget?”
    Julia and I had been highschool sweethearts, and her older brother David had always disapproved of me, calling me a nerd and a wimp. He and his friend Roy used to bully me and tell me to stay away from Julia. It was only when Julia’s father told them to lay off that I got respite and our romance was allowed to develop.
    “I bumped into him today”, she said, so casually that I became suspicious.
    “Great”, I said sarcastically. “That’s all we need.”
    “He’s grown up a lot you know. He’s not like he used to be. In fact he was quite the gentleman. He gave me his number and said he wanted to go out and catch up sometime.”
    “You want me to go out with Roy?”, I said incredulously. “Like we’re old buddies or something? No way.”
    “Well, actually”, she said, then bit her lip nervously, “I was kind of thinking that maybe … I could go out with him. On my own.”
    Her words hit me like a hammer.
    “Oh my God, Julia. Please tell me you’re not thinking what I think you are.”
    “It was you that suggested I could find somebody else, honey. I thought maybe, just maybe, Roy would fit the bill. He is an old family friend, and I know I can trust him.”
    Pictures flashed into my mind, filling me with horror. I had always suspected Julia of having a crush on Roy.
    “But Julia, Roy? … you can’t be serious. The guy is huge for a start. He must be 64’’ at least.”
    “Well … maybe that’s what I need right now.”
    I blushed, cut by her words. I tried to protest, to speak, but I couldn’t.
    “Look”, she said, placatory, “how about if I take it really slow. I’ll go out and have dinner with him, and then we’ll just see how it goes.”


    So that Saturday evening I sat and moped as Julia prepared for her first date with another man. She had called him while I was out, so I didn’t get to hear their conversation. I tried to imagine his delight and bemusement when she suggested that they have dinner just the two of them. Becky had gone to sleep over at a friend’s for the night, so Julia was free to play without worry.
    My wife sat at her dressing table, looking impossibly sexy in matching black bra and panties, garter belt and stockings, as she put the finishing touches to her makeup. She flattened her lips out and applied bright red lipstick. She glanced at me in the mirror, then stood and slipped into an elegant black dress. She looked lovely. There was a car beep outside the door.
    “That’s my cab”, she said. “I shouldn’t be too late.”
    She held her cheek out for me to kiss, so that I wouldn’t smudge her lipstick. Then she walked down the stairs and out the door. The smell of her expensive perfume stayed with me.
    I sat alone for maybe an hour, my mind racing with thoughts. I could not quite believe that it was really happening - that my wife was out having an unambiguously romantic dinner with another man. To kill the time I decided to clean the house. I cleaned everything, the insides of closets and appliances, until the house was sparkling. I had always found cleaning a calming activity. Around 10:30pm I heard a car pull up outside. I peeked through the curtain. It was not a cab. Julia was talking to the driver, who then pulled away. She had been true to her word and not stayed out late. I took some crumb of comfort from that.
    When Julia came in she seemed like a different person – lively, smiling, and happy. She was maybe a little tipsy. I asked her how it had gone, and she told me it was wonderful and that Roy had been the perfect gentleman. They had reminisced about old times and caught up with each other’s gossip. Roy was now a successful financier, and quite dashing and distinguished in a sharp suit, she told me. He had had a long string of girlfriends, but had grown tired of each one.
    “Did you … did you … have any … contact?”, I asked, not really wanting the answer.
    “Well, after the dessert had been cleared away, he took my hand in his, across the table”, she said. “It was romantic rather than sordid. It was very nice actually. It felt very natural, very right. Then we kissed on the cheek when he dropped me off, and that was that. As I said, he was a real gentleman. He knows I’m a married woman. I told him I was nervous about the situation and he said that was fine and that we could just take it easy and have a nice time.”
    I was stung by her words. I could see them there at the table, hand in hand.
    “It was a little awkward at first obviously”, she went on, “but Roy handled it really well. I told him you knew I was going on a date with him and that you were OK about it. I told him we had been having problems … sexually … but that you wanted me to be happy.”
    Yeah, I’ll bet he just lapped up that part, I thought. I felt mortified and embarrassed that someone else, another man, now knew of my inability to satisfy my own wife in bed.
    “How did he react to that?”, I asked.
    “He was very understanding. He said not everyone is cut out for it, and not every man can rise to the challenge of having a woman like me. I was very flattered by that. He also told me he had always had a crush on me but hadn’t wanted to go after me because I was David’s little sister.”
    My cheeks were flushed red. My head was down.
    “Are you going to see him again?” I asked, again not really wanting to hear the answer.
    “Of course. I said I’d call him next time Becky was going out for the evening.”


    The following Friday, I was making some tea when I heard the words I had been dreading.
    “Is it OK if I stay over at Ryanna’s tonight?”
    Becky always went to her mother to ask anything. Julia had always been in charge of discipline.
    “Sure honey”, my wife replied, glancing over at me. “What time are you going over there?”
    “Around seven I guess.”
    “OK sweetie. Call us tomorrow if you need a ride home.”
    Julia couldn’t hide her delight. She went straight to the bedroom to make a call, closing the door behind her.
    As soon as Becky was out the door, she went and took a shower, then got dressed up to go out. She came downstairs in a long black skirt with a cream colored blouse. She looked great as usual.
    “I suppose I don’t have to ask where you’re going?” I said, with a hint of bitterness.
    “No you don’t”, she said. “And I wish you’d quit sulking. This is best for everyone. You suggested it, remember? Roy’s just taking me out for dinner anyway. I’m having some fun, you should be happy for me.”
    This time he collected her from our house. He beeped his horn from outside, so I was spared from coming face-to-face with him. Julia rushed out, looking flustered but excited.
    Again, to my enormous relief, she returned at a civilised hour, around 10:45. I heard the car outside and peeked. He got out of the car this time. He did cut a fine figure, far from the young bully I had known. He stood towering over Julia, and held her shoulders in his huge hands. Then he kissed her full on the lips. My wife responded to his kiss and fell into his embrace, lifting her hands to tenderly stroke the back of his head. I was stunned. I prayed that none of my neighbors would look out of their windows. They kissed passionately, romantically, for a good couple of minutes. Then Julia squeezed his hand and turned towards the door.
    This time, I tried to make a fight of it. I tried to be angry.
    “How was it this time?”, I asked, “How was the gentleman? Where do you get off necking in front of the neighbors like that?”
    “What? Don’t you dare speak to me like that”, she said. “I’ve just had a wonderful, exciting, romantic evening, and you want to ruin it for me?”
    “You’re my wife, Julia!”
    “Yes, and you’re my husband, and if you were up to the job this wouldn’t be happening!”
    Defeated and hurt, I slumped back into a chair. I stifled tears.
    “I’m sorry”, she said, stroking my head. “That was unkind. I shouldn’t have said that.”
    “No, you’re right”, I said. “This is all my fault.”
    “Its just … my relationship with Roy is developing into something really warm, and natural, and fun”, she said. “He makes me feel great about myself, he makes me feel so feminine. I just want you to be understanding. And besides, we haven’t even slept together yet.”
    “Yet?”, I sobbed.
    She paused and breathed in deeply.
    “I think it will happen, honey, yes. I can definitely see myself sleeping with Roy. I want to. I think you should prepare yourself so you don’t get too upset when it does happen.”


    For the next couple of weeks Becky stayed around the house, sitting by the pool a lot, so I was spared the continuance of my wife’s romance with Roy. I know she called him though, as I overheard her one day in the back yard on her cell-phone.
    “Hey you! … yeah, its me … I know, I know … I can’t wait to see you either… oh no, its OK, he came around … he won’t cause problems … nothing we can’t handle anyway … OK … take care. I’ll call you soon. Bye!”
    I could see that Julia was getting impatient. She took longer than usual on her shopping trips, and I suspected that she was maybe meeting Roy for lunch. She certainly dressed up more than she had before just to go shopping. She had also started looking after her appearance much more, going to the gym every day and having regular hair and beauty appointments. Becky even had a sleepover with a friend at our house, much to Julia’s obvious disappointment. Finally, after nearly 3 weeks, Becky asked her the question she’d been waiting for. My wife was effusive in her approval.
    “Stay over at Emilia’s? Why of course, honey! What a wonderful idea! How lovely!”
    The next evening as Becky was chauffered away, my wife repaired to her wardrobe to select an outfit. I gloomily went up to watch and chat to her while she got dressed. This time she selected her black PVC pants and a white, somewhat sheer blouse.
    “Isn’t that a little racy?”, I asked. “Where are you going for dinner?”
    “Oh, we’re not going for dinner, Roy’s taking me dancing tonight. So I guess I’ll be a little later than usual.”
    I got pictures in my mind of Julia dancing cheek-to-cheek with Roy, their bodies pressing together. I sank back onto the bed.
    Roy arrived at 8:30 to collect my wife. This time he rang the bell. Not wanting to face him, I hid in the bedroom. This raised a chuckle from Julia, who kissed me briefly before going to answer the door. I heard her telling Roy all about it.
    “My husband’s upstairs in the bedroom”, she said. “He’s hiding from you. I guess he thinks you might bully him again …”
    They both laughed as the door closed behind them.
    I sat alone in the dark for hours, thinking about my wife and Roy out dancing and having a great time. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t do anything. I went back to the bedroom and lay on the bed. I noticed a Victoria’s Secret bag by my wife’s closet. I went and looked at the receipt. She had bought new underwear today. I knew she was wearing it for Roy. I remembered the unfamiliar, beautiful lacy half-cup bra that had been visible through her blouse. It was all for Roy. As the night wore on, I waited and waited, but there was no sign of Julia. Deep down, I had a horrible feeling I knew what was happening. It just had to be. I could feel it in my bones, in my whole being. I must have dozed off, because the phone jolted me awake. I looked at the clock - it was 2am. My wife sounded drunk on the phone.
    “Hi honey, its me”, she said. “I didn’t want you to worry. Listen, I’m going to stay at Roy’s place tonight OK? So don’t wait up. OK, gotta go. Love you.”
    A huge lump rose in my throat. I had known that this was going to happen, but nothing had prepared me for the shock of hearing that it really was happening, right now, and there was nothing I could do about it. Roy was going to fuck my wife. Tonight. I closed my eyes. I saw Julia, my beloved Julia, who had stood next to me in church and made a solemn vow to forsake all others but me, laying back on Roy’s bed, opening her lovely long slender legs for him, offering her pussy to Roy for his pleasure, her marriage vows forgotten and discarded. I saw Roy holding his rock-hard cock, unrestrained by self-doubt, and sliding it into my wife. I saw him fucking her hard and long, and Julia arching her back, crying out in pleasure, all of her pent-up frustrations released. I imagined him climaxing into my wife’s womb, then collapsing onto the bed. I saw them lying in a loving post-coital embrace, then waking in the morning and fucking again. I thought about how it must feel for Roy, entering that forbidden place, and fucking another man’s wife. I imagined his smug face as he peeled my wife’s brand new panties, bought for his eyes only, down over her long thighs. It was then that I noticed it. My cock, shrivelled and shy for so long, was rock hard. Thinking about them had actually gotten me hard. Shame burned my cheeks, but I couldn’t stop my mind from recalling that mental image of Roy fucking my wife. The feelings I was experiencing were the most intense and confusing of my life; searing humiliation, jealousy and pain mixed with a strange throbbing pleasure so sweet it felt like some perverted paradise. I started to masturbate. The pictures in my mind were just so red-hot, so alive. In no time at all I spurted all over my shirt. Gripped by a post-orgasmic shame and self-loathing, I took off the shirt and threw it in the washbasket. Then I lay in bed, confused and torn, until I fell asleep.

    Julia got back a little after 10am the next morning. I’ll never forget the look she had on her face as she walked through the door, or the chill that it gave me. She looked tired, but deliriously happy, and her face and neck were flushed. I could see that they had fucked all night. We didn’t talk. I just couldn’t face the reality.
    A pattern developed in the months that followed. Every time Becky was away for the night, at her friends or at her grandparents, Julia would go out with Roy and stay at his place, not returning until morning, while I masturbated alone in our bed. We never talked about it, but after a while I began to see that she was falling in love with Roy, and that this was more than just sex, more than an affair. She practically jumped for joy whenever Becky went away or her cell phone rang. And as the summer approached, I began to feel a great sense of foreboding. I knew the cause. Becky was due to go to camp for two weeks, and I knew how my wife planned to spend the time. The week before Becky was due to leave, Julia and I talked openly about her affair for the first time since that night it had become sexual.
    “Honey”, she said. “I just wanted you to know that I really appreciate how great you’ve been over my relationship with Roy. I know it can’t have been easy for you.”
    I fought back tears.
    “No”, I said. “It hasn’t been easy.”
    “Well, for what its worth, it means a lot to me. Really. And you mean a lot to me. But so does Roy.”
    I could sense that she was building up to something.
    “What is it, honey?” I asked. “What are you trying to tell me?”
    “OK. Look, Philip. I don’t know how do say this. I really don’t. So I guess I’m just going to say it. I … I think I’m in love with this man. I want him to be a part of my life. Becky’s too young to understand, but I think that you and Roy should meet so that things can at least be out in the open between the three of us. And with Becky going to camp, this would be the perfect time. I want us to have Roy over for dinner on Saturday night.”
    “No, Julia, please …”, I begged. The thought of facing Roy at all was unpleasant to me, but now that he was openly fucking my wife it made me cringe with dread. He was someone who had always frightened me, and this made it ten times worse. I begged again.
    “Please Julia, I just can’t, I can’t …”
    “Oh, Philip, honey, come on …”, she said. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. Do it for me? Please?”
    “I’m sorry Julia, anything else, please …”
    “Philip”, she said, drawing a breath, her face darkening slightly, “don’t make me choose between you.”
    I felt the threat in her words, and it hurt. I shuddered, and tried to supress the shake of my shoulders. I had no choice but to agree.
    “OK”, I said.
    “Thank you, honey”, she said, and kissed me on the forehead. “You don’t know how happy that makes me. You’re a doll.”


    When Saturday came around I had butterflies in my stomach all day. I cleaned the house, to try to relax and of course to prepare for Roy’s visit. Becky had gone off to camp in the morning, and Julia had gone out shopping. She returned around 4pm, just as I was starting to get the dinner ready. She had bought two new outfits, and more new expensive underwear. She spent the next couple of hours pampering herself and getting ready, while I made the dinner. At Julia’s request I was making roast beef, which was Roy’s favorite. I set the table for three, with our best silverware and napkins. I opened a bottle of wine and put it on the table. Then I went upstairs to see if Julia needed anything. She was applying her makeup at her dressing table, dressed in black stretch pants and a pale blue satin blouse. She had put her hair up in an elegant fashion.
    “Hi honey”, she said, “how’s the dinner coming?”
    “Oh, fine, fine.”
    “Don’t overcook it. Roy likes it rare.”
    “I know, you told me. I won’t.”
    “Could you come fasten my necklace?”
    It was a small gold chain with a heart, that I had given to her on one of our first dates. I fastened it at the back of her slender, perfumed neck. I could smell her hair in my nostrils.
    “Thanks honey”, she said. “Now don’t be nervous tonight, OK? Everything’s going to work out fine. This will be good for all of us, you’ll see.”
    I nodded ruefully, then scurried back down to make the final preparations. I was a bundle of nerves. I couldn’t quite believe I was about to come face to face with my cuckolder, the man who had bullied me in my youth and had now inflicted the ultimate humiliation of fucking my wife. I swallowed hard as I tried not to think about it. I had stocked up on drinks and got cocktail glasses, wine glasses and beer glasses ready. I didn’t know what Roy would want when he arrived. He was due at 7pm. I looked at the clock. It was 6:57. I shuddered and felt my nerves tingle. Time seemed to stand still. I watched the clock tick. 7pm came. I had to run to the bathroom to pee. When I came back it was 7:03. My heart was pounding so hard it seemed to bash at my ribs.
    The doorbell rang. I felt a tiny spurt of pee hit my pants, then managed to hold it in. I heard my wife call out.
    “Honey, can you answer the door? I’m not quite ready yet.”
    How could she do this to me, I thought. Shaking, I managed to put one foot in front of the other and walk to the door. I could see a tall, bulky figure through the glass panels. I opened it. There he stood on the doorstep, towering over me. We were face to face at last. As long as I live, I’ll never forget the moment our eyes met. Roy’s glance said a thousand words, and although it passed in a split-second it was a moment so charged with meaning, so powerful, that it makes me shiver every time I think about it.
    “Hi … Hi, Roy. Wel … Welcome”, I stuttered.
    “Thank you”, he said, extending his large hand, and smiling a self-satisfied, knowing smile. I gulped. As we shook hands I could feel this man’s sheer physical and mental superiority. His hand was strong, his shake firm and confident, while mine was the limp rag of an impotent man.
    “Please come in”, I said.
    As he came into the hallway, Julia came down the stairs. She looked stunning. Her eyes lit up when she saw Roy. She waved, then came skipping over to him, and they kissed, briefly but softly and tenderly, on the lips. She showed him to the living room, then turned to address me.
    “Honey, aren’t you going to offer Roy a drink?”
    “Yes of course”, I said. I turned to our guest. “Roy, what can I get you?”
    “A beer”, he said curtly.
    “I’ll have a gin and tonic”, Julia said. “Oh, and Philip honey, you should really wear the apron while you’re preparing the dinner. You don’t want to ruin your shirt.”
    I gave her a despairing look, but she returned it firmly. I went to fetch the drinks. The kitchen apron was frilly and somwhat effeminate, and I hated wearing it, even though Julia always told me I should. Reluctantly, I put the apron over my head, then tied the strings in a bow behind my back. I could hear them chatting animatedly. When I returned to serve them their drinks, Roy took his beer without a word, as though I were a waiter. He didn’t even look at me. His eyes were on my wife. Julia at least thanked me, albeit briefly. I felt such a fool standing there with the tray wearing my kitchen apron. My wife gave me a look, as if to say that they wanted some privacy.
    “Honey”, she said. “You better go finish up. We don’t want to eat too late.”


    When the dinner was ready I called them to the dining table and served up. I removed my apron and took my place at the table. We exchanged mostly nervous small-talk during the meal. Julia was like a dizzy schoolgirl throughout, she was obviously besotted with Roy. She hung on his every word, and kept nervously adjusting her hair. When he had finished, Roy congratulated me on the meal.
    “You’ve turned out to be a great cook, Philip. You should be very proud. You also have a beautiful home here. Julia tells me you’re real house-proud and do a great job cleaning it. I heard you even cleaned it today for my visit. I must say it looks great.”
    I didn’t say anything.
    “Honey!”, Julia remonstrated. “Roy just paid you a compliment.”
    “Thank you Roy”, I mumbled.
    “No no, the pleasure is all mine”, he said, smiling.
    It sure is, I thought, and cleared the dishes away. When I got back to the table, Roy took control of the conversation.
    “OK”, he said, “what do you say we just cut to the chase here. I think we all know why we’re here. Now Philip, I know you and Julia have a marriage and a family here, and I don’t want to break that up, but at the same time I have no intention of ending my relationship with your wife. Julia’s a great woman, and she needs a man in her life who can give her what she needs as a woman. We know you can’t do that, and I can.”
    Julia was gazing adoringly at him.
    “Oh, I’ll say you can, Roy”, she said, and giggled.
    “So I guess what I’m saying is, I think we can all be adults about this”, Roy continued. “I think you need to accept that although you will remain married, for Becky’s sake if nothing else, Julia is my woman now.”
    “Your woman? But she’s my wife, Roy …”, I countered nervously.
    “Your wife, my woman. You heard me right. Julia tells me I make her feel like a woman and you don’t, so I guess that makes her my woman. Besides, I’m not asking you about this anyway, I’m telling you. You’re going to be seeing a lot more of me, whether you like it or not, starting this week. You understand me?”
    “Yes Roy”, I said, my head hung. His arrogance was stunning, talking to me like that in my own home, but I didn’t have the courage to stand up to him. I was still afraid of him. I was even shaking visibly now.
    “And do you promise to be as good a husband to Julia as you can be?”
    “Y … Yes Roy.”
    “Good. Now listen carefully Philip. This is how its gonna work. While I’m here I’ll be the man of this house and take care of the things you’re not capable of, such as taking this fine woman here to bed, because that’s what I’m best at, and in the meantime, you can do what you’re best at, like keeping the place clean and helping out as much as possible. Got it?”
    I gulped and reddened.
    “Yes Roy.”
    As I said it, I caught my wife’s eye for the first time since the whole terrifying conversation had begun. She was looking at me with what seemed like a strange mixture of affection and contempt. She was clearly delighted with my acquiescence to Roy’s demands, and impressed at his dominant handling of the situation, but perhaps she was a little surprised at just how quickly and utterly I had submitted to him.
    “Well, I think that’s wonderful”, she said.
    With that, they retired to the living room, while I went to finish cleaning up. When I was done, I went to join them. They were curled up on the couch together. Julia looked up at me.
    “Honey”, she said, “could you make up the spare room?”
    “For … For Roy?”, I asked, somehow still clinging to a pathetic, vain hope. They both laughed.
    “Cute”, she said. “Don’t be silly, honey. For you. Roy and I will be in our bed. And while you’re at it, change the sheets in the Master bed too, OK?”
    So I went and made up the beds. First I made up the small bed in the spare bedroom, then went to make up the bed I had slept with my wife in for years. While I worked, I thought about Roy fucking my wife in my own bed, that I had made up with my own hands for the purpose. I could still hear them laughing and talking downstairs. When I got back they were necking on the couch, and Roy had his huge hand on Julia’s gym-toned ass. He squeezed it softly.
    “Oh, God, Roy …”, she whimpered. “When are you going to take me to bed, you big brute?”
    Roy lifted my wife up in his arms, something I had never been strong enough to do, and carried her upstairs. I followed pathetically. Roy turned and smiled at me as I hovered awkwardly on the stairs, then took my wife into the bedroom and closed the door behind him.


    I could hear them all night from my lonely bed in the spare room. They must have fucked for hours. So this is how a real man and woman make love, I thought. At the height of our sex-life, Julia and I had only ever done it for 45 minutes or so at the most. I could hear the bed creaking as it had never creaked before, and I could hear Julia crying out with pleasure as she reached climax after climax. I heard her calling out Roy’s name, begging for him to fuck her, telling him she was his. I masturbated my hard little penis while I listened to them.
    I woke at first light, covered in dried sticky cum. Disgusted with myself, I showered and, for want of anything better to do, went downstairs to prepare breakfast for Julia and Roy. Then a very strange thing happened, and although it came on gently and subtly, it changed my life forever, even more than the cataclysmic changes of the previous months, more than my wife’s infidelities or even the dreadful events of the night before. As I prepared the coffee and bagels, I suddenly felt an incredible wave of happiness and euphoria. At the time I could not understand why. Now, looking back, I think it was at that moment that I first felt truly comfortable, and that I had found my place in life. For the first time, I took pleasure in serving others, as I now believe I was meant to do. I felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Although confused by my emotions, I hummed happily to myself as I put the breakfast things on the tray. I took the tray upstairs and, with some trepidation, knocked on the door of the Master bedroom.
    “Come in!”, I heard Julia shout.
    Roy was sitting up in my bed, with my naked wife draped over him, looking like the cat who got the cream. Julia was lying across his broad chest, stroking him lovingly. I gulped and felt the sting of seeing what no husband should ever have to see, the bald sight of my wife in bed with another man. But then I remembered the newfound contentedness I had experienced in the kitchen. Julia looked so happy that it made me happy too.
    “Hey, look at this! Now there’s a good boy”, Roy said patronisingly as I brought the breakfast over to them. “Looks like you were really listening during our little talk last night, huh Philip?”
    “Ah … Yes Roy. Yes I was.”
    “Oh Honey, you’re such a doll fixing breakfast for us”, Julia chimed in, chuckling. “I expect big Roy needs a meal after all that exercise overnight.”
    I coughed.
    “May I get you anything else?”, I asked politely, expecting a refusal.
    “Yeah, sure”, said Roy, “go get me a paper.”
    I was shocked at his curtness, ordering me around in my own bedroom. But there was no longer any doubt in my mind that he was now the Master of the house, so I trudged off obediently to fetch it for him. While I was out I got to thinking. I was trying to put my newfound contentedness into words, so that I could express it to Roy and Julia in some way. When I returned with the newspaper, Roy took it without a word. Julia had that look again, kindly but amused at my pathetic, submissive obedience to her lover. But this time I didn’t mind Roy’s arrogance, or even my wife’s condescending look. I was coming to appreciate it as the natural order of things, with everything in its right place. I had something to say, and after agonizing over it for a few moments, I summoned the courage.
    “R … Roy?”, I stuttered, still timid in my boyhood tormentor’s presence.
    “Yes Philip?”, he replied, looking up from his paper.
    Julia looked up too, and raised her eyebrows, intrigued.
    “I … I’ve been … thinking”, I continued.
    “And?”, he sighed impatiently.
    “ … and … well … I want … I want to thank you for what you’ve done. Making Julia so happy and so satisfied I mean. I’ve been sulky and self-centered about it, but now I’ve realised that I should accept that you can give her what I can’t, and that I should be grateful that she has found a man like you. I promise I’ll do my best to make things comfortable for you both, and I … I accept that you are the Master of this house now. So … well … thank you Roy. Thank you.”
    When I had finished, Roy and Julia both laughed out loud.
    “You believe this guy?” Roy said, “he just thanked me for fucking his wife!”
    “Oh, Sweetie”, my wife said, with that same contemptuous grin. “That’s sweet of you. Really.”
    I could see that what was left of Julia’s respect for me as a man was gone. But at the same time, she looked happy, because she knew that my co-operation meant she could have her cake and eat it. She could keep me as her devoted husband, and Becky’s father, and at the same time she was free to carry on as she pleased with Roy, the real man in her life and the new love of her life. She chuckled again, and I left, my head hung, with the sound of their laughter behind me as I closed the door.


    When Roy and Julia finally got up around midday, they hung around the house like a couple of sexed-up teenagers, my wife wearing a t-shirt and a pair of white panties, and Roy in just his boxers. Around lunchtime, I was told by my wife that Roy would be staying for the full two weeks while Becky was away. I nodded, and asked if there was anything I could do to help.
    “Well, now that you mention it”, she said, “Roy does need some of his clothes fetched from his apartment. If you go over there in the car then Roy and I can relax by the pool this afternoon.”
    “Of course”, I agreed, and armed with directions, set off to complete my errand. Roy’s apartment was a mess when I got over there, so I decided he might appreciate it if I cleaned the place up while I was there. A lot of his clothes were dirty, so I washed and ironed them before packing them into the large case I found in his storage closet. All in all it was several hours before I returned to the house.
    When I came through the door there was a strange sound coming from the living room. I was stunned at the sight that greeted me when I came through. Roy was on the couch, drinking beer and watching football on TV. Julia, my wife, was kneeling at his feet in a bikini, sucking his cock. Her eyes were closed in ecstasy and concentration, and she didn’t even look up when I came in, so focussed was she on her lover’s cock and her efforts to please him. His manhood was long and thick, I could see that it made a mockery of mine, and her lips were tight around it as she bobbed her head slowly up and down, sucking and slurping. I stood there, stunned and paralysed. This was not the frenzied blowjob of the porn movies, but a slow and loving suck that demonstrated Julia’s utter devotion to Roy’s pleasure. Roy looked up at me and grinned as my wife sucked his cock on her knees. He winked.
    “Thanks Philip”, he said. “That’s a real help. Just put the clothes in the closet upstairs, willya? You’ll need to empty your stuff out of there. Then if you could fetch me a beer that’d be great.”
    “Y-Yes Roy”, I stammered, then hurried to attend to his commands.


    As the two weeks of Roy’s stay progressed, I grew to feel more and more contented in my role as the obedient cuckold. I tried to help and serve as best I could, and to stay out of Julia and Roy’s way as well. This wasn’t difficult, for when they weren’t sunning it by the pool, they were usually in the bedroom. Roy’s appetite was voracious, and he never seemed to tire of banging my wife. I appreciated this, as it gave me a chance to get most of the chores done while they were upstairs, so they would not have the inconvenience of having me cleaning around them.
    Often I would hear them upstairs while I was at work, on my hands and knees scrubbing the kitchen floor, or ironing one of Roy’s shirts, and every time it happened I felt those waves of euphoria and ecstasy. Only a natural born cuckold could understand and appreciate the exquisite experience of diligently ironing another man’s shirt while he fucks your wife upstairs, of making sure every last crease is out, while the squeak-squeak-squeak of the bed chimes along to the squeaks of the ironing board. It was heaven.
    As the fateful day of Becky’s return loomed, I am ashamed to say that I felt a little sad that our menage-a-trois would have to come to an end. It had been such an exciting time for me, a little vacation in a cuckold’s paradise. I could see that Julia felt the same sadness, as much as she missed Becky. Our daughter was due back on the Saturday, and was getting a ride home with one of her friends. On the Friday evening I made Roy’s favorite meal again specially, as it was due to be his last night with us. He had ordered for dinner to be ready for 8pm, and as that hour came around I had the beef done to perfection and was standing by to serve, wearing my apron proudly this time.
    Roy and Julia were in the bedroom – Julia had been dressing for dinner in a new dress she had bought, and I guessed that Roy had gone up there and one thing had led to another. I went up to tell them that dinner was served, and heard sounds as I approached. As I came closer to the door I made out my wife’s voice. She was begging Roy to fuck her. She sounded delirious, desperate.
    “Please Roy, give me your cock, fuck me Roy … I need a good cocking from you … I don’t know how I’m going to live without you here … I need you in my pussy Roy, now, please … Please, Roy, you can’t leave me alone with that wimp. Have you seen his dick? My God, its tiny … Roy, have mercy on me. Fuck me. I’m yours forever, do what you want with me. This body is yours, this pussy belongs to you Roy, I swear. You can have other women, I know you need it, I don’t care, but please just fuck me now, Roy, please. And come back here and fuck me whenever you can. If you ever need pussy I’m here for you Roy, you know that … Please Roy? Please fuck me …”
    Roy was chuckling to himself, enjoying his power over my wife. His voice was calm.
    “Kneel”, he said.
    I heard my wife sink to her knees, then she continued to beg for his cock. Finally, I heard him relent and have mercy on her.
    “Take it out”, he said, then I heard my wife unzipping his fly.
    “Suck it”, he commanded.
    Julia’s frantic begging stopped, to be replaced by muffled slurps and moans as she worshipped his cock. This went on for some time, until I heard Roy groan loudly.
    “That’s it”, he said, “good girl. Swallow it all.”
    I heard Julia gasp for breath, then she whispered “thank you Roy”.
    I was frozen, riveted. My ear was glued to the door. They, and I, had forgotten all about the dinner I had spent the afternoon preparing.
    In the bedroom, it was clear that Roy was in full command. I heard his deep voice again as he addressed my wife.
    “I want you naked Julia. Now.”
    “Oh God, yes, Roy … thank you … please, fuck me”, I heard her say as she obeyed him, fumbling with whatever clothes she had on.
    “Lie back on the bed”, he said.
    “Yes … Oh, God, yes …”
    “Now”, he said, “open your legs.”
    I heard my wife let out a small whimper of frustration.
    “Mmm, look at that”, he said. “Davie’s little sister Julia, all grown up, a respectable married woman. Spreading those beautiful legs for old Roy …”
    “Oh, God, yes, fuck me now Roy, please fuck me … give me your cock … I need that big cock inside me Roy … please …”
    She let out a scream as he penetrated her. I tried to look through the keyhole, but the view was agonizingly limited. I could just see one of Julia’s legs, in the air, rocking back and forth as he fucked her. At one point I caught a glimpse of her flushed face, writhing in ecstasy as she felt his cock pounding her body. It was too much for me, and I came in my pants, my little cock twitching and throbbing. Suddenly coming to my senses, I feared discovery, and began to creep back down the stairs, trying to time my steps with Julia’s screams and groans, which were filling the whole house. In all the two weeks of Roy’s stay I had never heard such noise from my wife.
    As I stepped off the bottom stair, into the apparent safety of the hallway, I heard another sound, a sound that froze my blood. It was a key in the door. Time seemed to stand still, and I saw the full course of my riotous cuckolding flash before my eyes, culminating in the present with another piercing scream from Julia. Before I had time to think or act, Becky was through the door and in the hallway, bags in hand.
    “Hi Daddy!”, she said. “Hey, nice apron. Emilia had to come home a day early, so I thought I’d surprise you guys and come too. What the hell’s that noise?”
    Before I could stop her she started walking up the stairs towards the bedroom. I was about to run after her, but then I saw to my horror that Emilia and her father had gotten out of their car and were coming up the driveway to say hi. Quickly deciding on the lesser of two evils, I went out of the front door and closed it behind me.
    “Hi!”, I said as they approached. “Thank you so much for bringing Becky home. What a wonderful surprise. Unfortunately I can’t invite you in because, uh, my wife has … she has the flu and I don’t want you guys to catch it.”
    “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. I hope she gets better soon.”
    “Yes, I’m sure she will. Thank you.”
    “Okay, well, I guess we’d better be getting along then.”
    “OK. Thanks again.”
    I waited until they had driven away, then took a deep breath. I shuddered to think what could be happening inside. I knew I would have to face it sooner or later, so I opened the door and went back inside.
    It was quiet in the house. I went up to the Master bedroom, knocked, and found Roy alone on the bed.
    “S ..Sorry to disturb you Roy. Where did Julia go?”
    “She’s in the Becky’s bedroom talking to her.” He seemed very blasé about the whole thing. “Better for the kid to know, don’t you think? Makes everything a little easier …”
    I shuddered and left. I couldn’t believe his attitude. I went to Becky’s room, gently knocked on the door, and heard Julia’s rather stern voice on the other side.
    “Yes?”
    “Julia, its me. Can I come in?”
    “No Philip. Don’t come in. I need to talk to Becky. We’re gonna straighten everything out. Wait downstairs.”
    So I went downstairs, washed some of the dishes from my cooking, then waited for what seemed like hours. I cried a little, too. Whatever else the fallout might be, I felt so ashamed that my darling daughter would know that I was a cuckold and a wimp, a man who had allowed another man to fuck his wife in his own house, while he prepared dinner for the man too. At around ten I heard Roy leave abruptly, tired of waiting. It must have been midnight before I heard Becky’s door open.
    When they came downstairs, Becky was surprisingly calm. When I finally met her eyes for the first time, she had a look uncannily similar to her mother’s recent way of looking at me, that strange mixture of amusement, affection, and contempt. Coming from my 16-year-old daughter, my little Becky, the light of my life, it was enough to melt my soul. Julia told me that she had apologized to Becky for exposing her to such a shock, but that she had also explained to her that she had needs as a woman that I had not been able to fulfill. I hung my flushed and dizzy head as she said those words. Becky had eventually accepted this and told her mother she understood. The upshot, to my disbelief, was that Becky had accepted her mother’s need to keep seeing Roy, and that Roy was now a part of Julia’s life. Becky had said that if I could accept it, she certainly could. We all went to bed somewhat healed, but the shame and shock of that night took some time to fade.

    Over the next couple of months, Roy continued to visit the house regularly, and though we tried to have Roy come over when Becky was out, it was inevitable that they would begin to meet. Put simply, her mother was in love with this man, and he had to become part of her life as he had become part of mine. It felt very strange at first, but gradually Becky got used to him being around, and even grew to like him, and she seemed to appreciate his sense of humor. She did become more distant towards me, however. Why, I didn’t know, for I had done nothing wrong, other than perhaps fail to keep my wife satisfied as a real man would. Perhaps she had lost some respect for me due to my submissive behavior towards Roy, just as Julia had done. That was only natural. I continued to be somewhat subservient to him when he came over, obeying him in everything and treating him as the Master of the house. Julia had asked Becky to be discreet with outsiders about our relationship with Roy, but I suspected that she had told a couple of her friends, based on the sly looks and sniggers that they gave me when they came to the house.
    As I got over the shame of my daughter knowing the truth about me, I began to long for a return to what I now saw as the glory days of Roy’s two-week stay with us. I had gotten the submissive cuckold bug, and I felt it was my destiny to be a pathetic, obedient servant to my superiors, for as long as they would allow it. I knew that Julia pined for Roy when he was not there. I no longer even attempted to make love to her – although my ability to stay erect had returned, she would literally laugh at the size of my cock compared with Roy’s and push me away if I tried anything.
    So one day, at my own prompting, my wife and I sat down with our daughter to ask her what she would think about the idea of Roy coming to stay with us permanently. To our delight, she agreed and was pretty relaxed about the whole thing, so that night Julia went to discuss it with Roy. He agreed too, on the understanding that he would be the boss of the house, and that Julia would not object if he occasionally “dated” other women, and kept his apartment on for the purpose. I bought champagne and put on a small welcome party for Roy’s arrival that weekend. I cleaned the whole house, cleared out the closets, moved all my stuff to the spare room or the basement, made up the Master bed, then I made some party food, and as I popped the champagne the whole family cheered and toasted the new man of the house.


    We all settled into an idyllic life of domestic bliss. Roy was of course the absolute Master of the house, imposing his personality on everything, his will unquestioningly and instinctively obeyed by everyone in the family. Julia was blissfully happy – at last she had a real man in the house who made her feel safe, whom she could trust to protect her and her daughter, and she was reborn sexually. She had a radiant glow of satisfaction every day from the solid fucking she was getting every night, and that she had been denied for so long. She still treated me fondly, and somewhat maternally, but there was no question that Roy had become her true love, and was the only man in her life. Becky was happpy as well – she took to Roy like a real father, a proper masculine figure for her to look up to. She often asked his advice and joked around with him as one would with a father.
    As for me, I was contented too, as I felt as though I had finally found my place in life: a cuckold, and a loyal servant to a superior man. I no longer had to pathetically try to maintain the pretense of manhood. I was released from that burden. I knew that I could be of some use to Roy and Julia domestically – I would clean, cook, iron, polish, and serve them as best I could, in any way I could think of. In fact I became obsessed with housework, determined to carve out a useful place for myself in the household. Every day I cleaned the kitchen floor and the bathrooms on my hands and knees, vacuumed the house, collected all the dirty laundry, washed, ironed, and then hung it as new in Roy, Julia and Becky’s closets. It became a routine for me to serve dinner to the three of them every night, dressed in the frilly cooking apron that I had once hated but now came to love. I would always have quickly eaten a functional meal earlier in the evening so that I could be on hand to serve them throughout the meal, standing by like a housemaid. Becky thought this a little odd at first, but quickly got used to it, and within weeks she was treating me like the servant I was, casually ordering me to fetch her a drink or remove a dirty plate. She learned to copy Roy and Julia’s behaviour, and would toss her dirty laundry at me, just as they did. One day Becky complained to me that the main bathroom was not clean, even though I had cleaned it that morning, so I resolved to inspect the bathrooms every hour and clean them. In fact, I would very discreetly try to clean them after every use.
    Roy was, of course, also as happy as could be. He had it all – a beautiful house to live in, another man’s beautiful wife available to him with no strings attached, and a loyal servant devoted to catering to his every need. To me, it was no more than he deserved. His natural aura of strength and authority had given my whole family a new feeling of contentment, of belonging, and I would always feel indebted to him for stepping in and assuming the responsibilities that I had not been man enough to fulfill. Submission to Roy felt as natural to me as it had to Julia. He had made my wife a happy woman, and in return I wanted to serve him, to live for his pleasure in my own small way. I devoted every waking thought to serving him, and to making my wife and daughter happy. Sometimes I would feel a pang of envy when I saw the three of them curled up on the couch watching TV in a warm family cuddle, my wife’s hand gently caressing Roy’s broad chest, but then I would quickly remind myself of my proper place, and my pride in serving them, and I would feel better again. I was never happier than when performing some small task to make my Master’s life more comfortable, polishing his shoes or sewing a button on his coat. This was the life that I was born for, and we were the happiest of households – everyone knowing their natural place, and everyone committed to serving Roy as the natural Master of our family. It was a true cuckold’s paradise, and I never wanted it to end.

    THE END

  2. Thanks KingBull, easybitch, brady8107, davey thanked for this post
  3. #2
    davey is offline Distinguished Member davey has a spectacular aura about davey has a spectacular aura about
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    Hello Shem, nice to see you here. I have to say this is one of my alltime favorite stories. I have read it probably 50 times (saved from that old site), always with a nice result for me

    It covers many hot topic buttons for me and you put it all together in a nice tidy little package. I would say I have about 10 total favorite cuckold stories and yours is very high on that list. Would love to see more of your writings!

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    Hey Shem, howabout a nice fictional update about this couple and their arrangement? I know the big crux of the story is finished now with everything being set in place, but I would find it interesting to hear more about how the servant/slave aspect continued to play into their familes lives? I know alot of writers finish a story and thats that, dead in the water with that topic and no new inspiration can be found. But I thought it would be worth a chance in asking anyway. Maybe you still have a little creative juices also for this story?

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    Default Follow-up vignette

    Davey,
    Thanks for the nice comments - although I write for my own pleasure primarily, its always nice to hear that people enjoy my stuff. And to heed your request I have written a short vignette to follow on from this story. Hope it hits the spot.
    Shem




    Scene from A Cuckold's Paradise


    The day-to-day life of an obedient cuckold.

    Part 1

    One day as I was dusting the window frames the phone rang.
    “Hello?”, I answered.
    “Hi, is this Mr Dawson?”
    “Yes it is …”
    “Hi, this is Fay Addison, I’m Roy Turner’s secretary. He asked me to give you a call, he said you’d be able to help out. The thing is, Roy spilled some coffee on his shirt at lunch, and he has to attend a meeting this afternoon. He’d like you to bring a new shirt down to the office. He said he wanted it freshly pressed and starched.”
    “Ah … yes. Of course. R-right away.”
    “Great. How long will that be?”
    “Oh, about 45 minutes I should think.”
    “That long? How far away is your store?”
    I suddenly felt terribly embarrassed.
    “Oh, I’m … I’m … I’m not actually a professional cleaner.”
    “You’re not? Oh, I’m sorry, I must have misunderstood. You’re not a cleaner?”
    “No … I’m … Roy is … a friend … of … my wife’s.”
    There was a moment of silence while the penny dropped.
    “Oh!”, she said, “so you’re Mr Dawson as in Julia Dawson’s husband …”
    “That’s right”, I said. “I’ll be over with the shirt as quickly as possible.”
    “Thank you Mr Dawson. You’re … very helpful.”
    I ran upstairs to fetch a shirt from Roy’s closet, then pressed and starched it as quickly as I could. As I drove I told myself that I should not feel ashamed, and that I should be proud to be serving Roy, no matter what anybody else thought. When I arrived at the impressive office building where Roy worked I was afraid to disturb him directly, and didn’t think it was my place, so I asked for Fay Addison at the security desk. The guard called up and told her there was a laundry man waiting to see her. I could hear her laugh when he said that, as they had it on speaker-phone. They sent me up to the 22nd floor. Fay greeted me at the elevator. She was a smartly-dressed, attractive woman in her late 20s or early 30s, with fairly short, dark hair and an elegant figure. I couldn’t help wondering whether Roy had fucked her.
    “Mr Dawson”, she said. “Please come this way.”
    I could sense stares and a few snickers as we walked past the other secretaries to Roy’s corner office. She knocked and then entered. Roy was sitting at a huge desk.
    “Mr Dawson is here with your shirt, Sir”, she said.
    “Ah, yes, thank you Fay.”
    Roy didn’t thank me. He just removed his shirt, put the new one on, and gave me his dirty shirt.
    “Take that home and clean it ready for tomorrow”, he said.
    “Yes Roy”, I said. Ms Addison looked on, bemused.
    “Will there be anything else, Sir?”, she asked him.
    “Yes, come and sit over here Fay, I want you to take a letter.”
    “Of course, Sir.”
    I could see that he commanded the same obedience at work as he did at home. Then he turned to me.
    “Philip, I have some coffee on my shoe also. You’ll find polish and a rag and brush in the closet.”
    Despite Fay’s presence I instinctively obeyed him, and fetched the polish. Roy was now sitting on the couch, with Fay beside him, her legs crossed and a notepad in her lap. I waited for him to remove his shoes. He looked up at me, surprised, then pointed to his shoes.
    “Don’t be shy”, he said. “Get to work.”
    I blushed. Then I kneeled down in front of him and began to polish his shoes. I’m sure I heard Fay stifle a laugh, but I kept my head down and concentrated on the job. I polished them as thoroughly as I could while Roy dictated the letter to his secretary. When the letter was finished, he waved me away, so I went to replace the polish in his closet.
    “Oh, Philip, one more thing”, he said. “Julia and I are going out tonight, so there’s no need to prepare dinner for us. Just make sure the bed’s turned down when we get back, it wasn’t done yesterday.”
    “Yes Roy, sorry Roy. I must have forgot.”
    Ms Addison was amused, perhaps a little impressed at the way Roy spoke to me. She was smiling now.
    “Is there anything more, Sir?”, she asked him again.
    “No, that’s it sweetie”, he said. “Go get ‘em.” Then he slapped her behind as she left. Far from being offended, she just shot him a smile and giggled coquettishly.
    Ms Addison was whispering with a couple of the other secretaries as I left the office, and they all chuckled as I passed them, clutching Roy’s dirty shirt in my hand. I felt an enormous sense of relief as I left the building and found my car.

    THE END

  6. Thanks KingBull, davey thanked for this post
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    Shem that was extremely kind of you and I appreciate it alot. Not many (hell maybe no one) would have taken the time to fill a request like that. I have asked a few authors in the past if they would mind updating their works and I never even recieved a reply at all. So for you to actually take the time to not only reply but to offer up another installment went above and beyond. You are a class act my friend.


    I look forward to anything you choose to share in the future. You obviously have great talent as a writer and you certainly have your finger on the pulse of what makes all this cuckolding business so exciting! Thanks
    Last edited by davey; 03-18-2008 at 10:38 PM.

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    KingBull is offline Administrator Head Bull In Charge KingBull has much to be proud of KingBull has much to be proud of KingBull has much to be proud of KingBull has much to be proud of KingBull has much to be proud of KingBull has much to be proud of KingBull has much to be proud of KingBull has much to be proud of KingBull has much to be proud of KingBull has much to be proud of
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    Yes, thanks Shem, for sharing your stories with us. I always love hearing that an "old-timer" from the defunct tan forum has found a liferaft to our peaceful island here. Welcome and keep on posting!
    ================
    Currently bedding your girl.

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