The Ex-Husband

Author's Note: this story involves cuckolding and some homosexuality.

I've been happily married to my wife Emily for five years. We met at a bar. I approached her with some corny pick-up line that made her laugh, and the rest was history. She had just gone through a divorce with her ex-husband, who had cheated on her, and she was starting to put herself back out there. I think I was exactly what she needed at that moment - somebody who was kind and gentle and made her feel safe and secure, and most importantly somebody she could trust to be loyal and faithful to her.

And I certainly had no problem staying loyal to her. She was one of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen, and I felt incredibly lucky that she even gave me the time of day. She was 28 years old when we met, just a couple years older than me. She was blond, short, had been a gymnast in high school, and continued to stay in great shape. Not only that, she had a bright, bubbly personality, a cute smile, and an easy laugh.

After we met at the bar, she came back to my place and we both seemed to have a good time in bed, so we exchanged phone numbers and started dating. At first, I was worried that she just thought of me as a rebound from her ex-husband, but after a few weeks of dating, we quickly settled into a steady relationship. Not long after that, I told her I loved her. She seemed a little taken aback, but then told me she loved me too. We decided to move in together, then got married a couple years later.

Early in our relationship, she told me often how different I was from her ex-husband, Brad, and how that was what she loved about me. She'd gotten married to him pretty young, at 22. She was a masseuse, and had met Brad when he came in for a massage. She had described him to me as a cocky jock type who had come on strong to her. In the context of a massage, I always wondered exactly what that meant, but she didn't seem to want to share too many details, and I certainly wasn't going to ask, no matter how curious I was. In any case, after the massage, they started dating, got married too quickly, and divorced a few years later after she caught him cheating on her with her own best friend.

After that, she realized she needed to find a guy who would treat her right, and she found that with me. We never had any drama, which she said she'd always been having with Brad. Apparently he was kind of a neanderthal and wanted her to quit her job so he could take care of her, especially since he didn't like the thought of her massaging other men. So they fought about that and other things a lot.

I'll admit, the fact that she was a masseuse made me a little jealous too, thinking about all the men who came in and felt my beautiful wife's hands on them. She was always honest with me, though, and admitted when guys sometimes tried things with her, looking for happy endings and stuff like that. But as soon as anybody tried anything, she would leave the room and report it to her boss, who would kick the guy out and ban them from ever coming back. I trusted her, of course, so her telling me this was good enough for me. That's one of the reasons she loved me. She'd told Brad the same thing, but he had never been able to handle the idea of other guys trying stuff with her, so he'd get super jealous and keep insisting that she quit.

After five years of marriage, we were still completely in love. We loved spending time together, we never got into serious fights, and we were even starting to talk about having children. There was only one small problem: when we had sex, Emily never had an orgasm. Like, not even once over the course of our entire relationship.

At first, I felt a little insecure about it. We talked about it every so often, but Emily told me it was okay, and assured me that Brad had never given her an orgasm either. She was able to give herself one, but that was it. It was just difficult for her to achieve, she said, and she still found sex with me to be pleasurable. Just not climactic. I didn't like it, but I assumed this was relatively common for women, and we pretty much moved on.

I did bring it up every now and then, though, just to try to check in and see if I could be doing anything differently. I knew some women struggled with having orgasms during penetrative sex, so I tried making it happen by fingering her or eating her out, but with no success. Later, I tried incorporating an 8-inch dildo. At 5 inches, my penis wasn't tiny or anything, but I thought something bigger might help. It didn't work, though. Emily did thank me for the dildo, because it helped her get herself off, but when I was using it on her, she said she felt too self-conscious. I tried to help her relax and have fun with it, but it just wasn't happening.

After five years of marriage and trying everything I could think of, I had pretty much accepted that it wasn't going to happen, and Emily seemed to be okay with this as well. Still, our sex life declined over time, to maybe once a week at most, as I couldn't help but feel like it was little better than a chore for her.

Then something happened that forced us to rethink our whole relationship. One day, I came home from work and heard the sounds of Emily moaning coming from the bedroom. I walked down the hallway and saw that the door was opened a tiny crack, just wide enough for me to peek through without being seen. I saw my wife, lying on the bed, completely naked, sliding the dildo I'd bought her in and out of her wet pussy, clearly loving it.

This wasn't the first time I'd overheard her pleasuring herself, but it was the first time I was able to watch her in action. I smiled to myself, happy to enjoy the show, even if I felt a little bad that she was clearly having more fun with the dildo than any time she'd ever been with me. It was kind of amazing seeing her body glistening with sweat and her face contorting in pleasure, listening to her long, loud, incoherent moans. So this is what it looks like when my wife is about to cum, I thought to myself.

Of course, it was an extremely hot sight. Part of me wanted to walk in, start sucking her tits, and replace her dildo with my dick. But I also wanted to see her get off, and I knew if I got involved, that would never happen. So instead I just reached my hand into my pants and started jerking off, watching her bring herself closer and closer to orgasm. It gave me a naughty little thrill to be so voyeuristic.

As her moans got louder, she started really slamming the dildo in and out of her pussy hard and fast. I was kind of amazed at how rough she was being with herself. She was really getting close and started crying out, "Oh god! Oh yes!"

That's when it happened. Her moans escalated to a fever pitch, and I could tell she was having an orgasm - the first one I'd ever seen her have. But just as it was happening, as she slammed the dildo into her pussy and her whole body started to tremble, she cried out, "Ohhhh Brad, fuck me hard, I want your cum inside meee! Yes, just like that, Brad, ohhhh yessssss, BRAAAAAD!!!"

I was completely shocked, but at the same time I was so turned on at the sight of her orgasm that I couldn't stop myself from shooting my load into my briefs. I must have let out a groan or something, because Emily's eyes darted over to the door. I quickly tried moving out of the way, but I accidentally nudged the door, opening it further. She saw me standing there, hand in my pants, a small wet spot forming on the front of them.

We stared at each other like that for a second. I was too shocked and embarrassed to say anything, so I just pulled my hand out of my pants and walked back down the hall, into the living room. In a daze, I sat down on the couch, trying to process what I had just heard Emily saying.

After a few minutes, Emily came out in a robe to find me sitting there, staring into space. "Honey, I...I'm so sorry. Let me explain," she said, sitting next to me and putting a hand on my shoulder and another on my knee. She was still glistening with sweat and looked a little flushed. I saw her look down and see the wet spot on my pants, and I quickly pushed her hand away.

"It's been...what, like, six or seven years?" I said. "Since you've last seen him? And you're...thinking about him when you...? You're...calling out his name when you cum?"

"Listen, baby," Emily said. "It's not like that's a regular thing I do. There's a reason I was thinking about him."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I kind of...I saw him today," she said.

I turned and looked at her, my face darkening with anger. "You...you what?"

"Not like that!" Emily said quickly, trying to explain. "I just mean...I ran into him. But nothing happened!"

I took a breath, calming down a bit. "What do you mean?"

"Well...he came in to get a massage," she explained. "He didn't even know I worked there, he thought I still worked at the place I was at when we met. He just came in because he tweaked his back working out or something."

"Seriously?" I asked in disbelief.

"I know, it's crazy," Emily said. "But honestly, we've been living in the same town this whole time, I'm surprised it's taken us this long to bump into each other."

"So...did you...?" I asked.

"Give him a massage?" she said, finishing my sentence. "Well...yeah. I mean, obviously when I walked into the massage room to find him lying there, we were both pretty shocked. It was really awkward, at first."

"Why didn't you get somebody else to come in and give him the massage?" I asked.

"I...I guess I should have," Emily admitted. "But, I dunno...we started talking, just catching up and stuff, and after we got past the surprise of seeing each other, it really didn't seem like such a big deal. And, um, I guess...I guess he was flirting with me a little."

"What?" I said.

"I'm so sorry, honey," she said, tears in her eyes now. "But I swear, nothing happened other than the massage."

"The massage and some flirting, you mean."

"Well...yeah, I guess," she admitted.

"Were you flirting back?" I asked.

"Um..." she said, biting her lower lip nervously.

"Just be honest with me, Emily," I said. "Please."

"I guess I was, a little," she said. "I'm so sorry. But it was totally innocent."

I shook my head, then put my head in my hands. "Jesus, I can't believe this."

"It was nothing, really," she insisted. "I promise it wasn't a big deal."

"What were you saying to each other? Tell me everything," I demanded.

She sighed. "It was just...we were catching up, and then he asked if I was okay with giving him the massage, and I really didn't think it was a big deal, so I said sure. I mean, you know, I give men massages all day long, it really doesn't mean anything to me. So he lay down on the bed, and I started, ya know, rubbing his back."

"He was, like...shirtless this whole time?" I asked, knowing this was a weird question but also feeling like I needed to know everything.

"Well, yeah," she said. "He was, like, in a towel, like everybody is."

"Okay," I said slowly. "So then what?"

"So then...he said..." She sighed uneasily. "He said he missed how my hands felt on his body..."

She paused, gauging my reaction. "Keep going," I insisted. Anger and jealousy were building up inside me.

"So I kind of laughed it off, telling him to calm down, because I'm a married woman," she continued nervously. "And he laughed a little and said that was okay, that it was just a massage and I wasn't doing anything wrong. So I kept rubbing his back for a while, and I started making conversation, like I normally do with any client. So...I asked if he was seeing anybody. And he just kind of smirked at me and said no, he'd just been playing the field the whole time since we'd split up. He said he'd learned his lesson after what happened between us, and he knew he couldn't stick to just one woman."

I felt my cheeks turning red with jealousy as I thought about this cocky asshole telling my wife about all the women he fucked. "And?" I said, prompting her to continue.

"And, um...then he asked if it would be okay if he turned over so I could massage his chest and stomach."

"What the fuck?" I said. "Do you do that with other guys you massage?"

"No," Emily said, tears falling down her cheeks now. "I'm so sorry."

"What do you mean? You actually did it?" I asked.

She nodded, wiping tears away. "But I promise, it was still just a massage!"

I swallowed heavily, feeling the urge to yell at her but also needing to know what else happened. "So...then what?" I asked, forcing myself to stay calm.

She sighed. "So...I was rubbing his chest and, um, ya know, his abs and stuff." My fingers gripped the armrest of the couch tightly as I listened to this. "And, um, I said something about how he had stayed in good shape."

"Jesus," I said.

"I'm so sorry," she said again. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No," I insisted. "Keep going."

She sighed and nodded. "So...he said I had stayed in good shape too. And, um...then I looked down and...his towel was, like...ya know..."

"No, I don't know," I said, my anger and jealousy growing even more intense. "Say it."

"It was...tented," she said. "And he said, 'Sorry, I can't help it. Is it okay?'"

"And that's when you put a stop to things?" I asked.

She shook her head, clearly ashamed of herself. "No...I said it was fine. And he kind of smirked and said, 'I bet your husband isn't working with something like this.'"

I felt my cheeks burning. "And...?"

"And I just tried to laugh it off again and said that was none of his business," she said. "He just laughed and said, 'I'll take that as a no.' And I just kept massaging him, and he said, 'That's too bad...that means he must not make you cum nearly as hard as I did.'"

My heart sank. What was that supposed to mean? She had told me that he hadn't been able to make her cum either. Had she been lying this whole time? But for the moment, I couldn't even focus on that. I needed to know what happened next. So I just stared at her and waited for her to finish.

"And I said...I'm so sorry, honey...I said, 'If you must know...no, he doesn't make me cum at all,'" she continued. I felt my armpits sweating. "And he laughed and said, 'Seriously? Like, not even once?' And I shook my head. And he said, 'Well, damn, that's a shame. So...why don't you let me take care of you then? Ya know, just for old time's sake? He never has to know.'" Emily then burst into tears, then looked me in the eyes and said, "That's when I walked out of the room, baby! I swear! I didn't do anything with him!"

I stared into her eyes, trying to decide if I should believe her. She really seemed to be telling the truth, and if she had decided to lie to me, she wouldn't have told me everything that had happened up to this point. I let out a long sigh. "So then...you went home," I said. "And you got into our bed, and...thought about him?"

She teared up again and nodded. "I'm sorry," she repeated, for what seemed like the tenth time.

"Do you...think about him a lot?" I asked.

"No, that's what I'm trying to tell you," Emily said. "It was just because of seeing him today, and giving him the massage and stuff. But I usually don't think about him, really."

"Usually?" I said.

She just shook her head.

"But...sometimes you do," I said. She looked down at the floor. "Tell me the truth, Emily."

"...okay, yes, sometimes I do," she admitted.

"You told me that he never made you cum, though."

She looked at me sympathetically, then nodded. "I'm sorry, sweetie," she said. "I...I lied to you about that. But I just didn't want you to feel bad about it!"

"How often?" I demanded.

"How often what?" she asked, confused.

"How often did your ex-husband make you cum?" I said angrily.

"Oh, sweetie," she said, rubbing my arm. "It's really not important."

"How often?!"

"I...I...I dunno..." she stammered. "Like...all the time, I guess?"

"All the time?" I asked in disbelief. "I haven't been able to give you a single orgasm, but Brad was making you cum every time he fucked you?"

She wiped away a tear and nodded. "Yes, sweetie...but it's okay, it doesn't matter, really."

"I...I have to get out of here," I said. "I need to do some thinking."

With that, I got up and left. I got into my car and just drove around aimlessly. I felt angry and ashamed and embarrassed, my thoughts swirling around in my head in a jumbled mess. The word "divorce" kept popping into my head. But the longer I drove around, the more I calmed down and started thinking more clearly. As upset as I was, I also realized that Emily had been completely honest with me about what had happened, even though I'm sure it had been really difficult for her to confess. And ultimately, she made the right choice and didn't go through with anything overtly sexual with Brad. And while she had lied to me about her sexual history with him, I had to admit it was easy to understand why she would do that. Knowing that Brad had no problem making her cum made me feel queasy and inadequate, and she had just wanted to spare me from feeling that way.

After I calmed down, I drove back home to find Emily still on the couch, her eyes red from crying. She looked at me nervously as I came in and sat down next to her. I looked her in the eyes, then gave her a hug. She clung to me desperately, and I could feel her relief.

"I'm so sorry, Lucas," she said. "I never wanted to do anything to hurt you."

"I know, honey," I said. "It's okay. I...I forgive you."

"You do?"

"Yes, sweetie," I said. "Thank you for being honest with me about what happened."

She nodded.

"But, um, I do think we need to talk about, ya know..." I said awkwardly. She looked at me questioningly, not sure what I meant. "About how I can't...but he could..."

She sighed. "Like I said, don't worry about it, sweetie, it's not a big deal to me."

"But I do worry about it, honey," I insisted. "I want you to, ya know, enjoy what we do together. And if he could do it, there must be something I can change or do differently or...something. Right?"

She bit her lower lip. "I...I dunno," she said. "Maybe?"

I swallowed heavily. "Just...think about it, okay?" I said. "Like, think about what he does that makes you...you know. I know it's weird, and it makes me, like, insanely jealous, but just...take some time to think about it, and then we can talk more later and see if there's something I can do to, like...be more like him."

"Are you sure?" she asked.

I sighed. "I mean, I don't love it, obviously, but I can handle hearing about it if it helps us to, ya know, improve things," I said. "I promise. Just...really be completely honest about it, okay?"

She tilted her head, looking at me strangely, then said, "Okay, I guess?" I leaned in and gave her a kiss, and she kissed me back deeply. "I love you, Lucas," she said.

"I love you, Emily."

***

The next day, we sat down on the couch again to talk. I took her hands in mine, looked her in the eyes, and let out a sigh. "Okay," I said. "I know this is probably going to be really...awkward. But if it improves our sex life and brings us closer together, it will be worth it, right?"

She smiled shyly and said, "Right."

I awkwardly smiled back. "Okay...so...obviously, Brad had certain...skills, or whatever. So just...ya know...tell me about what he did. Maybe I can, like, learn something?"

She nodded. "Okay," she said. "Well, I have thought about it. And one thing is that Brad was very, like, confident in bed."

"Confident," I repeated slowly. "Okay...and, um, I'm not?"

"Don't get defensive, sweetie," Emily said.

"You're right, I know," I said quickly. "It's okay. I'm just...asking."

"Well..." Emily said nervously. "You can be a little bit, uh...timid, I guess?"

"Okay..."

"I mean, I think you're just trying to be, like, gentle or something? And that's super sweet and everything," she explained. "But Brad was more, um...aggressive."