Becca Bellamy
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The Path to a Female Led Marriage - Part 8
🕑 Added 2025-10-06 04:50:11 +0000 UTCClick here to read the previous parts of the story.
Usually, Erin visits her boyfriend's house when she's had a stressful day at work. Today, though, she brings him home and a night of submission, cuckolding, and pleasure unfolds.
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I wanted my wife to dominate me. I wanted her to cuckold me. I get off on both of those things and the arousal is so potent that it's hard to describe.
Still, it's not always easy and the arousal/pleasure is not always pure. If you've been reading my previous entries, you know how true that is.
I have another recent example. It was a Thursday night. Erin had gotten home late from work and Travis - her boyfriend - had walked in right behind her. His appearance was a surprise, but I tried my best not to show it. You might have guessed that I was wearing my 'house husband' apron because I was preparing dinner. You might now be guessing that it was a little bit humiliating for my wife's boyfriend to see me in the apron as he put his arm around her in our kitchen.
"Welcome home," I said while trying my best not to let my mild sense of embarrassment grow to something bigger.
"I had a stressful day at work," Erin replied. "Normally I would have gone to Travis's house for a quickie, but I wanted to try something different today, especially now that you're more acquainted with being cucked in person."
My loins stirred, in large part because I was two weeks into what was supposed to be a three week span of denial. There's also the fact that I really, really like being cucked and that it's much better in person.
"So Travis is going to take me to our bedroom and fuck me while you make dinner for all three of us. I do need you to delay the food a little, though, as I'd like enough time for him to fully satisfy me. Can you do that?"
I nodded. "Of course."
"What are you making?" Travis asked.
"Fajitas with homemade tortillas and tomatillo salsa."
"Damn," he replied. "Your wife's a lucky woman."
Erin looked at her boyfriend, cupped his cock through his slacks, and kissed his neck. "In more ways than one," she said. "Now I need this cock inside me. Let's go."
They walked away and I stood there in my apron with my cock having grown to a half hard state. I'd just started the tortilla dough - it's super simple with nixtamalized maize and water as the only ingredients - so I returned to the bowl to finish mixing it. I plunged my hands into the shaggy mixture and worked it as I heard a moan - it was Travis - float down the hallway and into the kitchen. Absent any sounds of pleasure from my wife it was safe to conclude that she had her boyfriend's cock in her mouth. I was making dinner for us while she was giving another man a blowjob in our bedroom. Soon enough she'd be getting fucked.
It's a strange, small thing, but there was something about wearing an apron that made the whole experience more humiliating, and thus more arousing, if I'm being honest. It's nothing more than a piece of cloth, and yet the symbolism of it is so strong. I'm the house husband. I take my orders from my dominant wife. I wear the apron to show her that I know my place, that I embrace it, that I love it, if I'm being honest. Because I embrace my place, Erin can bring her boyfriend home for a thorough fucking after work while I make them dinner. It's what she wants our female led marriage to look like - at least at this point - and it's what I want it to look like, too, because her pleasure is what matters.
That's not to say that it's easy, though. I was damn near overwhelmed by jealousy as I listened to Travis get his cock sucked while I mixed the tortilla dough. I worried that Erin's eagerness to bring him to our home might signal that she was growing ever more comfortable with him playing a bigger part in our lives, which made me worry that I might be replaced at some point, that my wife might decide that she doesn't want a submissive husband.
To be clear, those feelings were not overwhelming. They were in the back of my head. They mingled with the arousal and the genuine sense of contentedness that came from being a submissive husband to a dominant wife. I think, in fact, that it's perfectly normal to feel angst when you're going against the grain as a man, when your wife is the leader of the household, when any disobedience will be met with a harsh belting across your ass as your wife gets you back in line.
I was cutting peppers and onions when the sex started. I could tell from the rhythm and tenor of Erin's moans that she was getting fucked. Her boyfriend's cock was inside her. He was pounding her in the manner she enjoyed when she was seeking to relieve her stress.
As they fucked, I considered that I was genuinely incapable of fucking my wife in that way. I could fuck her hard, of course, but I didn't possess whatever it was that Travis had that could relieve Erin of her stress. I imagine a big part of it is that he can help her to full let go, to surrender herself to him, to let him take control in the bedroom while feeling completely confident that he will deliver the orgasm she needs. I can't do that. I crave her guidance and approval when it comes to sex and I always have. Travis is the sort of man that needs no guidance other than to be told to fuck my wife hard.
They fucked for roughly twenty minutes. By my count, Erin had four orgasms to Travis's one. The third of her orgasms seemed to be the best, at least based on how loud she was, and I would guess that she was on her back and had completely surrendered to her need to be pounded by her boyfriend, thereby bringing about a whole body climax that no doubt left her fingers and toes tingling.
The chicken was on the grill at that point. The peppers and onions were in the pan with oil and a touch of seasoning. I was cooking the tortilla two at a time in a separate pan. It was a whirlwind of food prep and it was all unfolding as I listened to my wife's steady moans of pleasure from having seemingly endless sex with the man who fucked her better than I did. Oh, and I had a boner by that point. That's what two weeks without an orgasm will do to you, though.
There was no post-sex clean up that night. Instead, Erin and Travis emerged from the bedroom looking blissfully happy. Her hair was a little messier and she was no longer wearing her work clothes - instead she'd changed into leggings and a sweater - but otherwise she looked like a woman coming into the kitchen with her boyfriend, which is precisely what she was. The only difference from a typical situation was that Erin also happened to have a husband, though in that moment I was more like a chef who they'd hired to cook for them while they fucked. Humiliating for me, but also enthralling, as had become increasingly common.
Erin came over, gave me a kiss on the cheek, and told me how good everything smelled. She then made a pitcher of margaritas - I'm still pretty shit at making cocktails of any kind - and I finished dinner.
We ate. We drank. We laughed. We talked. It felt very much like a trio of friends hanging out. Travis and Erin touched several times during dinner - again, she was treating him very much like her boyfriend while he was at the house - and I had the experience of feeling like a third wheel, but that's what I was during those moments and I embraced the gentle sense of awkwardness and embarrassment that came with it.
I cleaned up after dinner as Erin and her boyfriend grabbed two glasses of wine and headed for the living room. They put on a TV show as I did the dishes. I pictured them cuddled up on the couch, my fully-satisfied wife with her boyfriend's arm around her as they talked, watched TV, and sipped wine.
I finished the dishes and popped into the living room to ask them if they needed anything. They were cuddled together on the couch, with Erin leaning against her boyfriend and his arm draped casually around her. She looked at me and smiled and then invited me to join them.
I poured myself a glass of wine and sat on the other end of the couch at Erin's direction. I was a few feet from my wife as she sat close with her boyfriend and occasionally lifted her head to kiss him on the neck or ran her fingers over his leg in that casual-but-intimate kind of way that happens with couples. I tried my best not to stare at them, but I looked over with great frequency as I grappled with jealousy and arousal and every other feeling rises to the surface when I'm being cuckolded, only in this instance I wasn't riding high on arousal, which made the other feelings more difficult to cope with.
Eventually, Erin and Travis started making out. Their wine glasses were empty. They both seemed a little buzzed. She kissed his neck and his cheek and then turned his head towards hers so their lips could meet. In an instant I knew they were going to have sex again. When you indulge in a fully open mouthed kiss as your hands roam and you both unleash a moan, there's only one way for that to end.
They made out for quite some time, though, and again it had a real boyfriend-girlfriend vibe to it. They were pawing at each other. She caressed his cock a little. He rubbed her pussy through her leggings. His hand slipped under her sweater and he went for her breasts, eliciting a moan as he likely found her nipple.
I was buzzed by that point. A strong margarita and a glass of wine will do that, though. It made most of the bad feelings go away, though, leaving me with a raging erection and a desire to masturbate as I watched my wife and her boyfriend fool around. I noted that the gentle inebriation made it harder to resist my desire to jerk off. I knew that I'd be banned from watching and would also receive a hell of a belting and I've reached a point where I really don't want to feel the belt. It's awful. It's strangely erotic to think about the fact that my wife punishes me for breaking the rules, though, so I guess that just speaks to me being in the right kind of relationship.
Unsurprisingly, the fooling around on the couch led to clothes coming off, and once the clothes came off Erin shifted to her knees next to Travis and moved to take his cock in her mouth. I immediately thought of how long it had been since my wife gave me a blowjob and then my mind conjured the conversation where she told me that she no longer had any interest in giving me head, a notion that had reverberated for days afterwards and caused by consternation and intense arousal.
Before taking him in her mouth, though, Erin looked back at me, smiled, and said, "We're going to need a condom."
She offered no instruction, but it was implicit, so I got up and hurried to our bedroom. I opened her nightstand drawer and marveled at the fact that my wife kept condoms for when her boyfriend came over to fuck her. My cock throbbed at the sight of them - the physical symbol of my cuckolding - and pulled one free. I rushed back to the living room to find her head bobbing up and down in Travis's lap as he ran his hands down her back, smacked her ass, and then slipped his fingers inside her pussy.
"She's wet," he said. "Soaked, actually. I can't believe how insatiable she is."
"She's having great sex," I replied. "I think it's been a while since that was the case."
They both looked up at me. Travis seemed surprised at my admission of inferiority, but Erin was all smiles. She stroked her boyfriend's spit-soaked cock, turned to look at him, and said, "He's right, you know. I get wet for you because sex with you is great. Legitimately great. It's not like that with him. I'm not sure it ever has been. Though, to be fair to him, his eagerness to submit is part of the reason that sex with you is so good."
Erin reached for the condom and I handed it to her. She tore it open and rolled it down her boyfriend's cock as I moved to sit on the couch once more. She stopped me, though.
"I think you should watch from the floor," she said. "From your knees, actually. Right in front of us. I want you to have a beautiful view."
"Really?" I asked.
She nodded and I was overcome with nervousness as I looked at her, at Travis's condom-wrapped cock, and then at the floor. My feet shuffled from side to side and I shoved my hands in my pockets as I got increasingly lost in my own world.
Erin pulled me out with a kiss. She unbuttoned my shirt and my jeans. She shoved a hand into my underwear and gripped my cock.
"You've watched before. This is no different."
"It feels different. I don't know why, but it does."
"Dan, I don't like having to remind you that I'm in charge, that your role is to do as you're told."
"I'm sorry."
She rested her hand against my face and softly kissed me on the lips. "I know you are, but you need to do as you're told. Now get naked."
I stripped as she watched. I felt hugely self-conscious doing so in front of Travis, but I stripped and largely without hesitation.
"Now get on your knees."
I fell to my knees and looked up at Erin as she put her hands on her hips and stared down at me. She was imposing in the best way possible.
"If you'd been obedient I would have let you lick my pussy before I rode him," she said. "I would have let you prepare me for my boyfriend's cock. I would have given you the gift that we both know a cuckold craves."
Erin turned and straddled her boyfriend. They kissed as he masasged her ass cheeks. She moved her pussy over his cock without taking him inside. He moaned as the tip disappeared into her for a moment and then reappeared.
"Crawl closer," Erin said. "Right now."
I moved closer at her instruction. I was grateful that she was blocking Travis's view of me. I wasn't sure I could handle the humiliation of being damn near between his legs as my naked wife made out with him and teased his dick.
Then I watched from a foot away as Erin reached down, guided Travis's cock into her pussy, and moaned as he filled her completely. She didn't ride him, though, holding still with every inch of him inside her.
"Dan...I want you to kiss my ass. Right now. Three kisses on each cheek."
I looked up to see Erin staring at me. I looked at her ass. I looked at the sight of another man's cock inside her. I leaned in. I could smell sex, or desire, or whatever it was that was emanating from both of their bodies. I pressed my lips against her ass and offered a kiss. I offered two more and moved to the other ass cheek. I kissed it three times. I did so with my eyes closed and I quickly found myself in a place of calm as most of the angst washed away.
"Very good," Erin said. "Now I want you to stay close as I ride him."
I leaned back a little. Erin lifted her hips until the very tip of Travis's cock was inside her and then sank back down again. She repeated that process over and over as I watched, though it was the sound that I found most thrilling. The wetness of it was hypnotic and the longer I listened the more I sank into the pleasure of being cuckolded in my living room by my wife and her boyfriend.
"Dan, darling, I want you to spread my ass cheeks and plant a kiss on my asshole," she instructed.
Even considering it sent a wave of humiliation through me, though I felt a distinct tingling between my legs that seemed to travel up my spine and take hold in my brain. It was arousal, of course. It was excitement at being pushed past my limits.
I leaned in. I spread her ass cheeks. I kissed her asshole. Then I did it again.
"That's very good," she said softly. "Now I'm going to ride him and you're going to do your best to rim me, Dan. You're going to move your head up and down and lick my asshole. I'll go slow at first, but when I speed up I expect you to do the same. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
I rimmed my wife's asshole as she rode her boyfriend's cock. I closed my eyes and let my other senses take over. I listened to the sound of my wet tongue against her anus. I listened to the sounds of wet, hot sex. I listened to their moans. I felt my wife's warm ass cheeks on either side of my face. I'm pretty sure my tongue accidentally licked just a tiny part of Travis's cock, too, as the texture of a condom is very different from an asshole or Erin's taint. It didn't bother me in the slightest, though. I'm not sure why. I think I was just so caught up in the strange thrill of being made to eat her ass while someone else fucked her.
I stayed in that position - and rimmed my wife - until she and Travis had cum. I felt an unexpected sense of pride after their orgasms, like my participation had made the sex better for them, at least based on how loud and long they moaned.
I leaned back as they enjoyed post-coital kisses and then Erin climbed off of her boyfriend and I was staring at his cock and the cum at the tip of the condom. I looked for a little too long, I'm sure, and then dragged my gaze to Erin, who was smiling at me.
"It's strangely beautiful, isn't it?" she asked. "All that cum in the condom. All that cum that your wife's pussy produced. You find it exciting, don't you?"
I shook my head.
Erin laughed. "It's okay if you do. It's also okay if you're not willing to admit it. I can't blame you for that."
I glanced at Travis's cock. She was right about it being strangely beautiful, about the thrill of knowing that my wife's pussy had produced all of that cum, that it had happened while I was on my knees rimming her ass.
"Take off his condom for me," she instructed.
My first instinct was to refuse. Then I thought of the belt. I said nothing for a few seconds, staring at his cock the whole time. I took a deep breath, told myself I was just following orders, and then grasped his cock and took off the condom.
"Throw it away," she said.
I got up and headed for the kitchen as I heard Erin and Travis kissing.
"You really do fuck me better than he does," she said softly.
"I loved that you made him eat your ass while I was inside you. That was so fucking hot."
"I know, right? I couldn't believe how much that turned me on."
I was in the kitchen a moment later. I tossed the used condom in the trash and leaned against the counter. I knew it wouldn't be my last time doing something like eating her ass while she got fucked. They'd both enjoyed themselves, which meant there was a very good chance I'd be more involved in their sex life going forward. The notion terrified and thrilled me, as did the idea that I didn't have a choice in the matter, unless I wanted to get belted.
I suppose I could be telling a cautionary tale about the pitfalls of asking your wife to take charge of your marriage, but to be honest, I don't see it that way. It's not always easy, but it's more exciting than I ever imagined possible and it seems like there's always room for it to get more interesting.
