Bree's Journey Pt. 01

Author's Note:

This is a three-part series that, in its entirety, make up a lengthy novel. Part one can be read as a standalone cuckquean story. It contains a lot of sex scenes. Near the end of part one, another character is introduced and a completely different relationship begins to unfold that will develop throughout the next two parts. While the first part is focused primarily on a cuckquean/reverse cuckhold relationship, parts two and three are mainly centered around a budding relationship between a bi-sexual guy, and a girl with commitment issues, among other things.

Content warning: Parts two and three are set in the household of a gay couple. While there are no explicit M/M scenes, some of the content explores the challenges specific to being gay and bi-sexual. If this makes you uncomfortable (in a bad way) you might not want to read those stories.

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Bree's Journey

by Dakota Lynn

Miles first entered my radar in mid February. It was Valentine's Day to be precise, the only holiday that I actively waged war against each year for being senseless and annoying, if for no other reason than it drove couples out to restaurants by the thousands, ruining the dining-out experience for regulars like myself.

Being single, and generally despising anything resembling domesticity, I ate out a lot. It saved a ton of time and aggravation in the kitchen for me. I suppose it had a downside, too. My lack of interest in domestics had kept me from having any meaningful, long-term relationships. I was attractive and fuck-able, and great in bed, but when it came to cooking, cleaning, and all other 'wife-y' responsibilities, I was simply not interested.

I used to think there was something wrong with me. That I was one of those girls that was just destined to be the bridesmaid, but never the bride. Case in point, I've walked down the aisle four times as a bridesmaid. Another minor amusing factoid that no one was aware of was that in three of those instances, I'd slept with the groom. Two of those cases are common knowledge. My girlfriends knew I'd had trysts with their husbands before they met them. The only one that was totally secret was my friend Taylor's husband, Drake. That was one of those what the hell decisions two days before their wedding. I'm sure it happens all the time at 3am on an empty beach in Mexico, with your friend passed-out just two yards away.

I'm not a bad person. I wasn't trying to steal my friend's husband away from her. On the contrary, I was doing her a service. I know that it sounds like a pathetic excuse for my behavior, but it's not. I didn't seduce Drake. He came onto me completely out of the blue. If it hadn't been me there, it would've been someone else. Women love to blame the other woman, but realistically speaking, you can't eradicate all other women on the planet to keep your man faithful.

Maybe, just maybe, the problem isn't with the other women or with the cheating husband. Maybe it's the whole concept of fidelity. Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against marriage. I just don't think it's very practical to expect a man, or a woman for that matter, to be monogamous for the rest of their lives. I could see the panic on Drake's face as he was coming to this realization. He knew it was too late to back out. Trapped animals are known to do crazy things that hurt themselves and the ones around them in their state of panic. I kept him from getting hysterical, and two days later, in the presence of three dozen witnesses in a beautiful ceremony by sunset light, Drake married Taylor. No regrets.

So, there I was, sitting at the bar waiting for my food to arrive. I hated eating at the bar because the service was awful. What made it worse on this particular night was that the bar section served as the waiting area for the hordes of couples. Feeling sympathetic to my situation, Jorge made me a Cosmopolitan on the house. I accepted it with a weak smile and was thankful I had something to dull the pain.

A man slid between my barstool and the one next to mine to hail Jorge. "A glass of red wine, please."

"Merlot? Cab? Pinot?"

"Do you have a house Cabernet?"

"Yeah. You want that?"

The man nodded and tossed a ten onto the bar, then turned toward me. He studied the occupant of the stool on the other side of me and frowned. "You alone?" His tone suggested that he was particularly surprised by this possibility.

I took a sip of my drink before answering him. He was catching me on the worst day and in the worst possible mood. "Yeah. Is that so hard to believe?"

He looked like he might get offended for a second but then his lips curled into a tiny smirk. "Well, yes, as a matter of fact. It is hard to believe."

"Why? Not all women are into this shit, you know." I realized that I was coming across a little harsh. It wasn't his fault. "I didn't mean to offend your girlfriend, or whoever you're here with."

"My wife."

"No offense to your wife."

Jorge set the glass of wine in front of the man along with a few bills and coins. The man left a bill and the change, pocketing the rest of the cash and sliding the glass toward himself. "She didn't hear you, so there was no offense taken. I'm Miles, by the way."

I was a bit surprised that he introduced himself. I mean, what was the point? I doubted we'd ever see each other again. "I'm Sabrina, but you can call me Bree."

"Nice to meet you, Bree. So what would prompt you to come here on a night like this?"

"Oh, the fact that I eat here a lot, and until I reached the door, I was blissfully unaware of the relevance of this day."

"Bad luck."

"Yep, that's what I was thinking." I raised my glass in a toasting gesture before taking a sip. I noticed he didn't take a sip of his wine. "You saving that for dinner?"

"No. This is for Nancy."

"You don't drink?"

"No, it's not that. I'm driving tonight. Once I start drinking, I don't want to stop."

I shrugged. "Call a cab."

"I suppose I could. But then I'd have to deal with Nancy's disappointment. I already ask her to overlook my other faults, it doesn't seem fair to throw this at her, as well."

I laughed out loud at that one. It was rare to hear a man speak so humbly about himself. There was something very appealing about Miles, and so familiar. There was no tension between us like there usually is between people who've just met. It felt like we were old friends. I chalked it up to him being married and off the market.

"I'd love to stay and chat for awhile but I do have a date waiting for me. It was nice meeting you, Bree."

He opened his hand and I placed mine in it for a handshake. "Nice meeting you. If you're ever in this neighborhood again, stop by. I'm here at least twice a week."

"Really. What days?"

"Tuesdays and Fridays."

"I'll be sure to remember that. Happy Valentine's Day."

"Same to you."

I didn't think much about our encounter after he disappeared into the crowd, and I certainly didn't expect to see him again. But two and a half weeks later, as I was sitting at a table in that same restaurant on a Friday night, there he was.

"Hello, again."

It took me a moment to recognize his face. "Oh, hi! How are you?"

"Miles."

"Yeah, sure. Miles. I'm B..."

"Bree, yes. I remember. Are you expecting someone for dinner?"

"Nope. This is my usual table for one. Are you here with your wife?"

"No, not tonight. May I join you?"

"Oh, sure. Yeah. Have a seat. I haven't ordered, uh, yet."

Miles settled into the seat across from me. "Surprised to see me again?"

I shrugged and smiled, "A little, I guess. Yeah."

"You shouldn't be. I asked you what nights you came here, and I do believe you invited me to drop by when I found myself in the neighborhood. Remember?"

"Vaguely. I thought you were trying to figure out which nights have the best specials in case you wanted to bring your wife back here."

Miles chuckled and shook his head. "I wanted to know how to find you again."

His confession made me shift in my seat. "Why?"

"To hit on you. Ask you out. The usual routine."

"I doubt your wife would approve."

"She's getting used to the idea."

"Oh, right. So, she knows you're here to hit on me?"

"Yes."

I could've been knocked over with a feather at that moment in time. I'd heard of swinging couples, but I'd never actually met one. "So you guys swing, is that it?"

"Not exactly, no."

"Then what? I don't get it."

Miles hailed the waiter and ordered a drink. He pointed to me to ask me what I wanted. I hadn't planned on drinking, but quickly changed my mind. I needed something to help me get my mind around what was happening.

After the waiter left our table with our drink orders, Miles continued.

"Nancy lost interest in sex when she found out that she couldn't have kids. That was six years ago. I held out for the first year before I started sleeping around. I didn't like the dishonesty, though. I didn't want to get a divorce, but I didn't want to lie to her, either. Before I could come clean, she found out about my infidelity."

"What did she do?"

"She was angry at first. She wanted to know who I'd slept with, blaming them for all of it. Then she blamed me. Then herself. She wanted to get a divorce at first, then changed her mind and tried to be a more 'loving' wife. After a few months, that didn't work. I made it clear that I couldn't be celibate for the rest of my life."

"And she agreed to it, just like that?"

"More or less. It was a struggle at first. Knowing I was out with another woman made her insecure. The first time I didn't come home until the next morning, she was a wreck. I tried to make it easier by not sharing any of the details of what happened, but that backfired. Finally, one time I just told her everything. Every last detail of what we did sexually, how the woman made me feel, how many times ... you know, everything."

"Oh, God! What happened?"

"She was real quiet at first and I thought for sure that I'd gone too far and she was going to kick me out. She excused herself to go to the restroom. I gave her a few minutes and then went after her to apologize. I pressed my ear to the closed bathroom door, thinking I'd hear her sobbing behind it. I was shocked as hell."

"What?"

"She was masturbating. I caught her just as she was climaxing."

It took me a second to recover from the shock I was feeling over his candor. "Really?"

"Yeah, I know. It was totally bizarre. And this was coming from a woman who hadn't thought about sex as far as I knew, for over five years."

"What did you do?"

"I tiptoed back to the living room and waited for her to return. I acted like I didn't know."

"Did she fess up?"

"Oh, hell no. And I didn't bring it up. She thanked me for being open with her, and then went into the kitchen and started fixing lunch."

"Oh my God. That's crazy."

"Not really. It's more common than you think. I mean, enough so for there to be a name for women with her fetish. Cuckqueans, they call them. Women who get off on their husband's infidelity."

"So your extramarital affairs have actually improved your sex life with your wife?"

"Not really. Nothing has changed in that department."

"I thought you said that she was ..." I shook my head. I wasn't following what he was saying.

"I said that she masturbated herself to orgasm. She does it a lot now. Almost every time after I've been out with another woman and tell her about it, but I think while I'm gone, too. Like right now, I'm pretty sure she's getting herself off just imagining me hitting on you. I don't know for sure because we don't talk about it and I don't set up cameras to spy on her or anything. I can only guess from clues she leaves."

"Why don't you ask her about it? It might open up some doors for you guys."

"It already has opened up things for her. If I tried to talk to her about it, I think it would ruin it for her. She's not like that, anyway. She isn't comfortable talking about sex. When I tell her what I've done, she acts like she's offended by the whole thing. Actually, I don't think she's acting. I think she is offended. Humiliated, even. And that makes her horny as hell."

"What a freaking weird kink."

"It's a full-blown fetish. I don't think she can get off any other way. I mean, no other way that I'm aware of. But I didn't come all this way to talk about my wife's fetish. I came to see if the chemistry we had in our brief encounter a couple of weeks ago was worth exploring."

I took a sip of the drink that had magically appeared at some point during his story. On the one hand, I was still having a hard time believing his bizarre tale, or the fact that he'd just sat across from me and spilled all those intensely intimate details about he and his wife. On the other hand, there was a certain chemistry between us. And I could hardly deny the fact that I was more than a little turned on by his story.

"What do you think, Bree?"

"I don't know. I'm a little overwhelmed right now."

"Fair enough. Has anything I've said scared you?"

"No."

"Good. Then let's order dinner and just see what happens from there."

We ordered dinner and another round of drinks as we fell into an easy conversation. It was more like catching up with an old lover than getting to know each other. Beneath the topics of family, work, and entertainment was a roiling sexual undercurrent. I was sure he could feel it, too, even though the only time sex had come up in conversation was when he had explained his marital situation to me.

After we finished dinner, he walked me to my car.

"So, tell me something, Bree ... What would you think about being the other woman?"

I shrugged one shoulder. "It wouldn't be the first time."

"I suspected as much when I first met you."

"Oh, please. You did not."

"A woman with no wedding ring and no date at a restaurant on Valentine's Day. Most single women would tuck tail and hit a drive through. Not you. You sat at a bar surrounded by attached men getting drinks for their partners and themselves."

"I hate fast food."

"I bet you hated all those looks you were getting at the bar that night, too."

"What looks? I don't pay any attention."

"Sure you don't. And I'm sure this does nothing for you, either." Miles reached out and palmed my breast through my blouse in plain sight for anyone to see.

I clamped my hand around his wrist, my mouth agape in shock. "Miles!" His mouth closed on mine before I could protest any further. My grip went limp around his wrist, allowing his hand to remain firmly on my breast, kneading and caressing as his tongue explored the inside of my mouth.

Miles pulled his lips away but kept his hand where it was. "I get turned on by the possibility of getting caught, don't you?"

I was about to blurt out, no, but then I stopped to think about it. The thought of someone seeing his hand on my breast was an extreme turn-on, but was that because I had a little exhibitionist streak, or something else? "I don't know. I mean, I think I might."

"Have you ever had sex in public before?"

I could think of one time, on a beach so many years earlier. "Yes."

"Was anyone around?"

"No. Well, sort of ... My friend was passed out a few feet away. But she didn't wake up or anything."

"But she could have, right?"

"Yeah."

"And I bet you were turned on by that, weren't you?"

"Sort of, yeah."

"I get off imagining one of my neighbors catching me. Or one of Nancy's co-workers or friends. I don't want it to happen, naturally. But the risk makes me hard as hell. Not that I need any help around you."

He pressed the zipper of his jeans to my torso. The steel rod behind the zipper was impressive. I let go a lustful gasp.

"If you don't ask me over to your place, I'm going to fuck you right here, Bree. Your choice."

Somewhere in my mind I knew I should be offended by his ultimatum. Or was it an ultimatum? He presented it like it was a foregone conclusion that we were going to fuck; it was just a matter of where. Something about how confident he was that it was going to happen made my knees weak with desire for him. I was barely able to respond through my panting. "My place."

"My car is just over there. I packed a duffel, just in case this progressed as I hoped it would. Can I just ride with you and pick up my car later?" I nodded. "I'll be right back."

Miles leaned over and kissed me. I expected him to just give me a quick peck before turning on his heel toward his car but he lingered in it for a few seconds and then deepened the contact, pulling me into his arms and claiming every inch of my mouth with his tongue. The man knew how to kiss, there was no denying it.

He reluctantly pulled away a few minutes later. In a barely audible, husky voice he croaked, "Got carried away. There's something about you that just does that to me."

I nodded and swallowed between pants. "I know. Me, too."

"Before we get too far into this, is there any chance you have any STDs?"

I wrinkled my nose in disgust. "No. You?"

Miles shook his head. "I'm selective and careful. Give me your car keys."

I handed them to him without hesitation. He escorted me to the passenger side of my vehicle and sat me down in the seat, making it clear that he was driving. He then shut my door and disappeared for several seconds before returning to toss his bag in the backseat and settle behind the wheel.

Miles started my car and took a few moments to familiarize himself with the controls before turning his attention back to me. "How long is it going to take to get to your house?"

"Ten minutes, maybe."

"That long, huh?" Miles smiled and winked at me just before sliding the gear into reverse. "Which way?"

There was something so irresistible about the way he was struggling to focus on the road. I got him onto the main road and instructed him on where to turn next. Then I unclipped my seatbelt and leaned over the center console to massage the enormous bulge in his jeans.

He groaned. "Oh, fuck."

I glanced out the windshield to gauge how much farther before he had to turn. "Another two miles and then you'll see it on the right. Next you'll take the second left. My house is the third one on the left."

I pushed the lap belt up his belly and went to work on his button and zipper. Miles reclined the seat a couple of inches to allow me better access. A moment later, I was stroking a gorgeous, rock-hard cock. I stole another quick glance at the road to be sure we were still on course before taking his cock into my mouth.

"Fucking amazing!"

His enthusiasm was driving me wild and I thought there was a chance that I might even be able to get him off before we reached my house. With that little challenge in my mind, I doubled my efforts, taking him deep into my throat every few seconds. I put everything I had into sucking his cock, not bothering to be proper or lick the saliva that now coated his entire shaft.

"Shit, girl."

That was the only warning I got that he was coming, but I didn't even need that much. He had been spewing a constant chorus of moaning and panting from the moment I first started. When he held his breath, I simply gripped the base of his shaft and clamped my lips tight around the rim of his cock head preparing to receive wave after wave of hot, viscous fluid onto my tongue.

The vehicle was quiet with the exception of Miles' heavy breathing. I realized that we were sitting still. After releasing his cock head from my lips, I swallowed what remained in my mouth and sat up to peer at the house in front of us. I immediately burst into laughter.

"What?"

We were sitting in a driveway, alright, it just wasn't mine. I looked up and down the street in both directions, determining our whereabouts. It took me a few seconds to realize what he'd done.