Chapter 6: The Homecoming
The key turned in the lock and the door swung inward. Lynn stepped across the threshold first, dropping her handbag on the hall table with a soft thud, and let out a long satisfied sigh at the sight of their own walls, their own scents, the familiar clutter they had left behind four days ago.
Rick followed with the two biggest suitcases, bumping them through the doorway. "Home," he said, and the word felt different now. He set the cases down and caught her from behind, arms around her waist.
"I missed this," Lynn said, tilting her head back against his shoulder. "The quiet. No room service carts at dawn."
"You didn't miss the room with a view?" He pressed a kiss to the curve of her neck.
"I miss that view every second of every day." She turned in his arms and kissed him properly, slow and deep. "But I'm glad we're back."
They unpacked in the bedroom. Lynn folded the New York clothes into neat piles, the nurse uniform and maid outfit folded into the same drawer as her stockings, and Rick watched her hands move. There was a lightness in her step that had not been there before the trip.
When his phone buzzed, he glanced at the screen and smiled. Robert. He read the one-line reply and felt the heat rise through his chest.
"He's answered," Rick said.
Lynn looked up from the drawer. "Robert?"
"Wants to see the pictures." Rick held the phone up so she could read it. Robert had texted: You lucky bastard. Send them all. Every last one.
She laughed, the sound bright in the quiet room. "Does he know what he's asking for?"
"He's about to find out." Rick sat on the edge of the bed and opened his laptop. The memory card slid from his wallet, and he pushed it into the slot, watching the thumbnails fill the screen. A hundred and twelve photos. Lynn in the nurse whites, Lynn with cum pooling between her thighs, Lynn pressed against the glass.
He selected the batch and typed a quick message. This is what you missed by leaving early. This is what's waiting for you next time.
Send.
Lynn came to sit beside him, shoulder pressing against his. "What did he say to that?"
"He hasn't replied yet." Rick closed the laptop. "Give him time. He'll have a lot to say."
The afternoon slipped into evening. They ordered a curry from the same place they always used, ate it on the sofa with the television playing softly, and Rick found himself checking his phone between mouthfuls. Robert's replies landed one after another. Exclamations. Laughing emojis. A long string of heart eyes.
Lynn leaned over to read them and shook her head. "He's ridiculous."
"He appreciates you."
"He appreciates what I look like in a nurse's uniform." She smiled when she said it, no sting in the words.
The last reply came late, just before they turned in. Robert had written: I'm going to jerk off to this so hard tonight. I'll tell you everything tomorrow.
Rick read it twice, a hot pulse moving through him. He showed it to Lynn and watched her eyes go dark with interest.
"He wants to tell us about it," Rick said. "In detail."
"Does he know how that sounds?"
"He knows exactly."
Lynn took the phone from his hand and set it on the nightstand. "Let him wait until tomorrow, then."
Rick lay awake long after Lynn's breathing evened out beside him. The house was quiet. The photos were sent. Robert's hunger hung in the air between them like something they had baked together.
He reached for the laptop he had left on the floor by the bed and opened it. The search box blinked at him. He typed slowly, carefully, the words unfamiliar on his tongue.
Cuckold husband groups. Sharing wife photos. Tributes.
The first results loaded, a menu of forums and communities. He clicked one and read through the posts, the anonymous men describing their wives in detail that made his arms break out in goosebumps. And below them, the replies. The comments. The offers.
He opened an account. It took him forty minutes to choose a username, something simple and unreadable, and when it was done he uploaded a single photo. Lynn in the maid outfit, face cropped out, the line of her neck and the curve of her hip catching the hotel light.
His thumb hovered over the post button. In the bed, Lynn turned in her sleep and sighed, settling deeper into the pillows.
He pressed post and closed the laptop, heart hammering. The screen went dark. He lay down beside her, pressed his chest to her back, and buried his face in the warmth of her hair.
He woke to light through the curtains and Lynn's warm weight against his side. The laptop sat on the floor where he had left it. He reached down and opened the screen, and the glow filled his face.
The notification number was already climbing. Forty-three. Sixty-eight. A hundred and two. He clicked into the thread and his breath caught.
DoMeDaddy_88: That ass in the maid uniform has me so hard at my desk right now. Need to see more of her.
CockTributeKing: I'm about to paint that photo. She has the perfect curves for it.
bigdickbren: Damn, what I wouldn't give to bury my face between those cheeks while you watch.
Rick scrolled, heat pooling low in his belly. The messages kept coming, each one a stranger imagining his wife. He felt the familiar pulse of arousal, the same one that struck when he watched those films and pictured Lynn in their place. But now it was real. Lynn in the flesh, posted by his own hand, and these men wanted her.
He lay back against the pillows, the screen angled away from her sleeping form. His cock was hardening against his thigh. He opened the first tribute image, posted twenty minutes ago. A thick cock pressed lengthwise against the photo of Lynn's curving hip, bright red against the maid's uniform. He studied it, the way the man had angled himself, the care he had taken.
Then he found the video.
It was short, twelve seconds. A man's fist working a hard cock over the printed photo, the camera close and shaking. Then the cum arced across the screen. Thick ropes landing directly over where Lynn's face would have been if he had not cropped it out. The man's voice, rough and satisfied: "Tell her I'd fuck her until she can't walk. You can watch the whole thing."
Rick watched it twice. Three times. His hand moved to his own cock, hardening fully now, and he imagined it was his cum on that photo. No. He imagined it was his cock buried inside her while a stranger watched. The thought made him squeeze his eyes shut.
Beside him, Lynn stirred. Her hand found his thigh in her sleep, fingers lax and warm. He stilled his hand, heart pounding. She was a small shift from seeing the screen. Instead he waited until her breathing steadied into her deep sleeping rhythm, then opened the group again. New replies had flooded in, fifty more in the minutes since he had last checked.
One user had posted a captionless image, just his cock held beside a fresh printout of the maid photo. Another had asked if Lynn's pussy was as tight as it looked. A third wrote: Make her shave for the next ones. Show me her lips.
The need in those words coiled through Rick's gut. He typed a short reply. She doesn't shave. She's all natural. And the responses came faster, a cascade of hungry messages.
He closed the laptop when Lynn moaned softly and rolled over. Her eyes opened, hazy and warm. "Already awake?" she murmured.
"Couldn't sleep." He set the laptop on the floor. "Wanted to check something."
She stretched, the sheet slipping down her shoulder. "What time is it?"
"Early." He shifted, adjusting himself beneath the sheet, and she noticed. Her gaze traveled down his body and back up to his face.
"You've been up for a while, then."
"Robert's been messaging."
"Doing what?"
"Enjoying the photos." Rick felt the half-truth sit heavy on his tongue. It wasn't Robert he had been thinking about. It was the strangers, the flood of them, the videos of their cum across Lynn's photograph.
Lynn smiled and slid her legs across the sheet, sitting up. "Show me what he said."
Rick reached for the phone instead of the laptop. The photograph of Lynn was still in the thread, face cropped. He pulled up Robert's messages instead, the comments, the heart eyes, the detailed promises of what he would do when he got back. He handed her the phone.
She read them, lips curving. "He really does appreciate me."
"He does."
Lynn set the phone down and looked at him. "And what about you? What do the pictures do to you?"
Rick felt the heat in his chest. "They make me proud that your my wife and I want you more than anything else in the world."
She reached for the hem of his T-shirt. "Good." She tugged it up over his head. "Then show me what the pictures do."
He forgot the laptop, the replies, the strangers with their cum-slicked photographs. He had his wife, warm and willing, and for a while that was enough.
But after, when her head rested on his chest and her breathing evened out again, he reached for the laptop. The notifications had climbed past four hundred. He opened the newest message. A video, thirty seconds, another tribute. The heel of a hand pressing a hard cock into the corner of the photo where Lynn's breast curved.
The caption read: I bet she tastes like heaven. I'd make her scream my name while you watch.
Rick swallowed. He had crossed a line hours ago, in the dark, and he had no intention of stepping back. He saved the video to a folder and set the laptop on the floor, then closed his eyes beside the wife who was already becoming someone else's fantasy.
Later that day when Lynn had gone shopping for groceries, he uploaded a lot more of her photos always making sure not to expose her face, but everything else was on show, her legs wide open, her pussy dripping cum and it excited Rick to think of all the replies he would get, but he needed to keep this as his secret for now.
Lynn returned home and was in the kitchen putting the food in the fridge when an e-mail arrived from Robert in thanked them both in some detail for the photos and Robert had included a video of how he had enjoyed her photos.
Lynn's voice floated through from the kitchen. "Rick, there's an email from Robert, he's sent it direct to my e-mail addres and he's also sent a copy to yours. It has a video attached. Should I open it?"
Rick's heart kicked. He was on the sofa, his own laptop closed beside him, the memory of forty minutes of uploading to the cuckold web page still hot in his veins. He cleared his throat. "Sure, open it."
He heard the click of Lynn opening her laptop from the kitchen, then silence. Then Lynn's voice, slower now. "Rick. Come here."
He stood and walked into the kitchen. Lynn stood at the counter, laptop open, her face lit by the glow. She turned to look at him, and there was something in her eyes he couldn't quite read. Surprise. Heat. Curiosity.
"Watch," she said, and pressed play.
Robert's face filled the screen, lit by the glow of a phone screen. He was in his hotel bedroom. Robert's hand was wrapped around his cock, already hard and glistening. In front of him, propped against his laptop, was a printed photograph. Rick recognized it. Lynn in the nurse's uniform, bent over the hotel bed, her bare ass to the camera.
"Hey Rick," Robert said, voice rough. "This is for you. For both of you. I wanted you to see what your photos did to me." His hand moved faster, and he tilted the photo toward the camera, showing the crease where he had been rubbing himself against it. "I've watched this a dozen times since you sent it. I can't stop thinking about Lynn."
Lynn's breath caught beside him. Rick didn't dare look at her. He couldn't tear his eyes from the screen.
Robert's breathing quickened. "I want you to know, when I get back, I'm going to fuck her, Rick. And you're going to watch. Just like the old man that watched you in New York. Just like you want." His fist pumped harder, and he groaned. "Fuck, Lynn. That ass. That beautiful fucking ass."
On screen, Robert's body tensed. His cum arced across the photo, thick and white, splashing over the curve of Lynn's printed hips. He kept stroking until the last pulse dripped down the glossy paper, then he leaned back, panting.
The video ended.
The kitchen was silent. Lynn's hand was still on the trackpad, her face unreadable. When she finally spoke, her voice was low and steady. "He actually did that. He actually came on my picture."
Rick found his voice. "He said he appreciated you."
"He did more than appreciate me." Lynn turned to face him fully. Her pupils were dilated, her cheeks flushed. "And you knew. You knew exactly what he was going to do when you sent him those photos."
"I thought he'd enjoy them. I didn't know he'd send a video."
Lynn looked at him for a long moment. Then she smiled, slow and knowing. "You're lying."
Rick's throat tightened. "Lynn."
"You wanted this. You wanted him to want me that way." She stepped closer, close enough that her chest brushed his. "And I think you want me to want it too, you so want to watch Robert fuck your wife, while you stroke your cock, then lick me clean when he's come inside me, don't you?."
He tried to read her face. There was no anger there. No betrayal. Just that deep, dark curiosity that had been growing in her since New York. He looked deep into her eyes "yes Lynn, its been my fantasy for so long and yes I admit, I really do want to see you and Robert having sex before me".
Her eyes held his for what felt like a full minute. Then she reached up and touched his jaw, thumb tracing the line of his cheekbone. "I've watched you, Rick. Ever since New York. The way you look at me when I undress. The way you watch those films and I can feel you thinking."
"I can't help it," he said.
"I know." She dropped her hand. "And I've been thinking about him too. About Robert. The way he kissed me that morning before he left. The way he touched me. I felt it then, that hunger in his hand, and I told myself it was just the drink."
"But it wasn't."
"It wasn't." She turned away, walked to the kitchen counter, leaned back against it. "And when I watched that video, Rick, I felt it low in my belly. Not disgust. Not shock. I felt my cunt get wet."
Rick's breath caught. "Lynn."
"Don't look so surprised." She crossed her arms. "You've been building me toward this for months. The magazines. The films. The exhibitionist games in a hotel where strangers watched us. You dressed me, you filmed me, you told me how beautiful I was while I pressed my bare pussy against a window for an old man to jerk off to. Did you think I wouldn't notice where it was heading?"
He took a step toward her. "I didn't want to push you."
"You didn't push me. You led me, and I followed willingly." She uncrossed her arms, reached for his belt, her fingers working the buckle. "I'm not angry. I'm not confused. I'm telling you, right now, that I want it too."
He looked down at her hands. "You mean it."
"I mean it. When Robert comes back, I want to see him too. I want to know what that hunger feels like when it's real." She pulled his belt loose, worked the button of his jeans, slid her hand inside his briefs. His cock was already hard, slick at the tip. She wrapped her fingers around him and squeezed. "But if we do this, I want more than a fantasy. I want your cock in me tonight, and I want you to look me in the eye and tell me exactly what you see. What you want."
He groaned as her fist moved, slow and deliberate. "I see my wife. The most beautiful woman I've ever known. And I want to watch her take another man while I watch and stroke my cock."
She sped her hand. "And after he comes inside me?"
"I want to lick you clean. Taste him on you." His voice cracked. "I want to know you're mine even when another man is buried in your cunt."
She pulled him close and kissed him, hard and demanding, her tongue sliding against his. He tasted himself on her breath, copper and salt. She broke away, breathing hard. "Then take me upstairs. Show me what my husband can do when he's thinking about sharing me."
He lifted her onto the counter, her legs parting around him. She was bare beneath her sundress, no panties, and he slid two fingers inside her. She was soaking, her hips rocking against his hand. "You're already wet, Lynn. From the video."
"From you," she said. "From the thought of what you want to watch."
He pulled his hand free and guided his cock to her entrance, pushed inside in one slow stroke. She arched her back, a low moan spilling from her throat, and her heels locked around his ass. He stilled, buried to the hilt, and looked into her eyes.
"This is what I want," he said. "You. Always you. And whoever else we share you with, you're the one I come home to."
She pulled him down until his forehead pressed to hers. "Then fuck me, Rick. Fuck me like you're watching."
He drove into her, hard, and her cry rang against the kitchen tiles. The afternoon light caught her every time her back arched, the flush rising across her chest. He buried himself deep and came, and she clenched around him, coming with him, her body convulsing against the countertop.
After, he stayed inside her, breathing into her neck. The kitchen was warm and still. Her hand stroked the back of his head. "We should talk about Robert. When he's back. What he'll expect."
Over the following weeks Rick monitored the tributes on the cuckold web page and Lynn was a huge hit, she recieved almost one hundred photos of guys hard cocks on her photos, some even covering her photo with their cum and thirty videos of guys cumming all over her pictures telling Rick how they wanted to fuck her while he watched and stroked his cock.
ventually they got the e-mail they had been waiting for, Robert had completed his work in china and would be back home towards the end of the week and asking if the invitation to meet Nurse Lynn was still open for Friday night and did they still have the six bottles of wine, or should he bring a fresh supply? he also hinted he had brought them both a present from China and couldn't wait to give it to them.
"What does he mean, the invitation is still open?"
Rick came up behind her, reading over her shoulder. The screen glowed with Robert's words. "He means meeting nurse Lynn. "He wants to know if we're still on for Friday or have we got cold feet."
Lynn scrolled to the bottom of the email. "And he's bringing presents from China."
"Something tells me they're not teacups."
She laughed, soft and low, and turned in his arms. "Are you ready for this, Rick? Really ready?"
"I've been ready since the first photo I sent him."
"Then I am too." She pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "But I have conditions."
He waited.
"If this happens, I'm not passive. I'm not some prize he takes while you watch from the armchair. I want to choose him. I want to kiss him first, feel him under my hands, decide how far we go. You watch because I want you to watch, not because I'm being handed over."
"Every word of that sounds perfect."
"And when it's over, you come to me first. Before him. I need to know that what we have isn't just the fantasy."
He cupped her face in his hands. "You'll always come first. Always."
She kissed him again, deeper this time, and he felt the decision settle between them.
The next two days moved in a slow current of anticipation. Lynn spent the mornings at work, and Rick worked from home, but every evening they returned to the same subject. What Robert would expect when he walked through the door. What they would offer. Where things would happen, and when, and how.
On Wednesday evening, Rick opened the laptop in the living room and motioned Lynn over. "I have something to show you."
She settled beside him on the sofa, bare feet tucked under her, and watched the screen.
The cuckold group opened on the latest thread. Four hundred and seventeen notifications. Sixty-three tribute photos. Thirty-one videos. Rick scrolled slowly, letting her see it all. Anonymous cocks pressed against the curve of her hip. Cum pooled on the printout of her naked body. Captions praising her nipples, her thighs, the shape of her cunt, all the details he had shared without her face.
Lynn watched in silence. Her hand rested on her chest, fingers curled against the hollow of her throat. She did not flinch. She did not look away.
"All of this is for me," she said finally. "Every one of these men came looking at my body."
"Yes."
"And you posted them."
"For four weeks, yes."
She turned to face him, and her expression was not shock. It was heat, slow and spreading, her pupils blown wide. "Show me the videos."
He clicked the oldest one. A man's fist working over the photo of her in the maid outfit, cum arcing across the print. Then the second. The third. The man who pressed his cock against the line of her mouth. The one who moaned her name into the camera without ever knowing it was her real name.
When the last one ended, Lynn let out a breath that trembled. "My God, Rick."
"I know."
"Do they know I have a face? That I'm a real person?"
"They know I cropped it out. That's the rule of the group. No names, no faces, no identifying details. I've kept you safe."
She looked at the screen again. The comments had climbed another twelve while they watched. One read: Send more of those naturals. I want to see her thick mound with cum dripping from it. Another: She's got the body of a goddess. I'd worship her for a weekend and never come up for air.
"Safe," Lynn repeated. "You've kept me safe while a hundred strangers fantasize about me online and you stroke your cock to their tributes."
"Do you hate it?"
She was quiet for a beat that stretched long. Then she reached across, closed the laptop, and set it aside.
"I don't hate it," she said. "I'm wet just watching them want me like that. But I'm done with it being anonymous, Rick. I want to see the wanting in a man's eyes when he's looking at my body, not read it in a comment box."
"Friday."
"Friday." She rose from the sofa and took his hand, drawing him up. "Now take me to bed and remind me what it feels like to be wanted by the man I actually love."
He followed her up the stairs, heart pounding against his ribs. Behind them, the laptop sat cooling on the coffee table, its notifications already piling up for the morning.