Bareback Cuckold For A Cheating Wife!
Part 1
Getting Even Was Never This Much Fun!
Sam
“I hear you aren’t doing too good, boy,” my neighbor, Carl, says with that smug look on his face, as always happy to make me feel like a total loser. I doubt he will ever forgive me for marrying a woman who I know he thinks is too hot for me.
“We’re doing just fine,” I lie self-consciously, and I feel weak and disgusted with myself for the way I look away and down. Too damn intimidated to even look the guy in the eyes. In truth, guys like him have always left me feeling incompetent and afraid, tall guys who are built like a tank, not like me.
I'm skinny and at 5' 9", Carl towers over me with his 6' 5".
“That’s not what I heard. Heard you got your ass fired again.” The contempt in his voice is palpable and blood rushes to my neck and face as a mixture of anger and shame explodes in my chest. He is right, of course, I did get fired and it wasn't for the first time. This time it was a pissed off manager who decided that I was to be made redundant to make room for a buddy of his and that was it.
Next I knew, I was telling Mary, but only after keeping silent about it for weeks.
Weeks that I spend leaving the house early morning as if there really was a paying job waiting for me, but instead there I was at the library searching for job openings and printing out my resume. All while dreading the approaching payday when I would have no choice but to explain to my dear wife why there wasn't any pay.
I'll never forget the look of disappointment on her face, one that she tried to hide well, and that made me feel even more of a loser than I already did.
And now there is Carl to take the opportunity with both hands to rub it in.
Happy to remind me what a loser I am.
Carl has always been like that. From the moment he laid his eyes on me, I knew he didn't like me, period. He is the opposite of everything I am, where I am considered and kind, he is arrogant and loud-mouthed and always there to rub in how damn successful he is and how I am not.
Carl the Archetypical Bully.
And it seems he has dedicated his life to humiliate me whenever he can.
“We are doing fine,” I say obstinately, forcing myself to pay attention to cutting the hedge that separates our gardens. What else does he expect me to say? That, yes, I got fired and money is tight. Not his business to bring it up, but not that he cares about how I feel. I cut violently into the green, anger boiling on the inside. Unlike Carl, I’ve been well conditioned and force myself to keep on a pleasant face.
“I might be able to help you get your hands on some cash,” Carl says and in an instant my anger is forgotten. God knows we need money and we need it fast. I look up to gauge his expression. For all I know, he is cruelly fucking with me. That would be typical of him.
“You know of a job opening?” I ask hesitantly, not certain if I can trust him to be sincere.
Carl snorts at that and shakes his head as if to tell how much of a fool I am.
“Not you, your wife.”
“Mary?” I say, surprised. I just can't for the life of me imagine how Mary has anything to do with me getting a job.
“I’ll pay a grant to fuck your wife. About time that girl got herself a good taste of a real man. Maybe then she'll finally get to her senses." He is referring to the divorce that he wants Mary to get, old news. Mary told me about how he told her behind my back that she should divorce me and move in with him.
That's the kind of guy Carl is.
And now this.
I never thought he could be this blunt.
This vulgar.
This cheap.
This low.
Low enough to suggest I participate in convincing my own wife to whore herself out to him.
My anger is back in an instant and my hands start to shake, my first impulse to swing my fist in his face, but I guess I really am too well-conditioned and force out a meager laugh instead.
“Fuck off, Carl,” I say weakly, and
Part 1
Getting Even Was Never This Much Fun!
Sam
“I hear you aren’t doing too good, boy,” my neighbor, Carl, says with that smug look on his face, as always happy to make me feel like a total loser. I doubt he will ever forgive me for marrying a woman who I know he thinks is too hot for me.
“We’re doing just fine,” I lie self-consciously, and I feel weak and disgusted with myself for the way I look away and down. Too damn intimidated to even look the guy in the eyes. In truth, guys like him have always left me feeling incompetent and afraid, tall guys who are built like a tank, not like me.
I'm skinny and at 5' 9", Carl towers over me with his 6' 5".
“That’s not what I heard. Heard you got your ass fired again.” The contempt in his voice is palpable and blood rushes to my neck and face as a mixture of anger and shame explodes in my chest. He is right, of course, I did get fired and it wasn't for the first time. This time it was a pissed off manager who decided that I was to be made redundant to make room for a buddy of his and that was it.
Next I knew, I was telling Mary, but only after keeping silent about it for weeks.
Weeks that I spend leaving the house early morning as if there really was a paying job waiting for me, but instead there I was at the library searching for job openings and printing out my resume. All while dreading the approaching payday when I would have no choice but to explain to my dear wife why there wasn't any pay.
I'll never forget the look of disappointment on her face, one that she tried to hide well, and that made me feel even more of a loser than I already did.
And now there is Carl to take the opportunity with both hands to rub it in.
Happy to remind me what a loser I am.
Carl has always been like that. From the moment he laid his eyes on me, I knew he didn't like me, period. He is the opposite of everything I am, where I am considered and kind, he is arrogant and loud-mouthed and always there to rub in how damn successful he is and how I am not.
Carl the Archetypical Bully.
And it seems he has dedicated his life to humiliate me whenever he can.
“We are doing fine,” I say obstinately, forcing myself to pay attention to cutting the hedge that separates our gardens. What else does he expect me to say? That, yes, I got fired and money is tight. Not his business to bring it up, but not that he cares about how I feel. I cut violently into the green, anger boiling on the inside. Unlike Carl, I’ve been well conditioned and force myself to keep on a pleasant face.
“I might be able to help you get your hands on some cash,” Carl says and in an instant my anger is forgotten. God knows we need money and we need it fast. I look up to gauge his expression. For all I know, he is cruelly fucking with me. That would be typical of him.
“You know of a job opening?” I ask hesitantly, not certain if I can trust him to be sincere.
Carl snorts at that and shakes his head as if to tell how much of a fool I am.
“Not you, your wife.”
“Mary?” I say, surprised. I just can't for the life of me imagine how Mary has anything to do with me getting a job.
“I’ll pay a grant to fuck your wife. About time that girl got herself a good taste of a real man. Maybe then she'll finally get to her senses." He is referring to the divorce that he wants Mary to get, old news. Mary told me about how he told her behind my back that she should divorce me and move in with him.
That's the kind of guy Carl is.
And now this.
I never thought he could be this blunt.
This vulgar.
This cheap.
This low.
Low enough to suggest I participate in convincing my own wife to whore herself out to him.
My anger is back in an instant and my hands start to shake, my first impulse to swing my fist in his face, but I guess I really am too well-conditioned and force out a meager laugh instead.
“Fuck off, Carl,” I say weakly, and
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