Cuckolded - My Wife on the Oil Rig

A little bit of background first. For people who don't know me, I'm an author who writes cuckold and breeding stories that I sell on Amazon and Barnes & Noble. I get a huge amount out of this forum in terms of research so I like to post free extracts here whenever I can - especially since my stories tend to be on the long side (20-30,000 words) so even an extract is pretty sizable.

Here's what I have for you today.

What if your gorgeous wife--who you know has a bit of a wandering eye--had to go to work on an oil rig for three long weeks?

What if she was the only woman on board, surrounded by hot, muscled guys who haven't seen a woman in months?

Alone and horny at home, maybe you'd coax her into doing video chats with you over the internet. Maybe you'd manage to convince her to strip off for you, even play with herself on camera while you watched.

Maybe you'd think of all those men watching her. Maybe you'd encourage her to tease one of the guys. She could bring him back to her cabin with a bottle of wine, let him kiss and grope her a little and then send him packing, all while you secretly watched on camera and stroked yourself, thousands of miles away.

What if you did all that...and what if it all went horribly wrong?

What if the head of the rig had the hots for your wife? What if he took control of your laptop and typed messages to your wife as you, telling her she had free reign to fuck anyone she liked? What if you found out that the whole crew had been watching your private chats and were filling message forums with comments on her body and "performances"?

What if these men led your beloved wife into one degrading act after another, and all you could do was watch helplessly on camera?

Cuckolded - My Wife on the Oil Rig is 32,000 words of relentless tension, explicit sex and husband offense, told from the man's point of view. It's The hyperlink is visible to registered members only! but if you're not sure if it's for you, you can read a huge chunk of the story right here, for free. Scroll down and let's get to it!
Bestselling author of the "Cuckolded" stories, available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Google Play and All Romance Ebooks http://victoriawessex.com

Cuckolded - My Wife on the Oil Rig

“Honey,” I said, “stop looking at the pool cleaner.”

Heather jerked her head round, away from Rick’s broad back and iron biceps. “I wasn’t!”

We both smiled because it was sort of a joke. Except it sort of wasn’t. Seven years into our marriage and I loved her even more than when we’d started dating...but I’d noticed her eyes wandering more, lately. The guy who cleaned the pool. The construction workers downtown. Even a couple of fire-fighters, when the bakery down on Jeffermister had caught fire and we’d stood in the crowd, watching. Always big, muscled men—not too much in the brain department, maybe, but with an attitude and a swagger and a sheen of sweat from honest, hard work.

“You were,” I told her, my tone teasing.

I saw her redden just a little and she tossed her long, mahogany hair back over her shoulder. She wore it in soft ringlets, and the smell and softness of it never failed to turn me on. With her soft skin and hourglass figure, Heather was supremely feminine, if that makes any sense. At a shade over 5’5”, she had to look up at most guys, too, which only added to the effect.

She was the least likely geologist you’ll find. Put a hard hat on her and it looked like she was in costume. But she’d already proven she had the s*******s to go up against the big boys, landing contract after contract with the oil companies.

“Okay...” Heather turned to look out of the window again, staring at Rick. “Maybe just a little.” Then she turned to me, serious. “But you know I’d never do more than look, right?”

Something dark rippled through me. It wasn’t that I was worried she’d cheat on me—almost the opposite. The reamister I teased her about looking at other men was....I liked it when she did.

I mean, I didn’t want to share my wife with anyone. No way. At least, I was pretty sure I didn’t. But the idea of her sneaking Rick into the house while I was away, his brutish, tanned body rutting into hers on the couch...I closed my eyes for a second, feeling the whisper of sensation down the length of my cock as it prepared to stiffen....

I pushed the thought away. It was just a fantasy, nothing more. Just idle speculation, normal after seven years of marriage and three years together before that. It didn’t mean anything.

“I know,” I told her. I leaned across the table and kissed her, slow and unhurried, relishing the softness of her lips. I’d always loved her mouth, her lips so full, like satin pillows. And when she closed her eyes to kiss me, her long lashes made her look dreamily seductive, without her even trying. We were having breakfast, still in our robes, but even without make-up she was gorgeous.

I was pouring juice when Heather looked up from her tablet with huge, shocked eyes.

“What?” I asked, worried.

“It’s a job,” she told me.

I blinked. “That’s a good thing, surely?” As a freelance geologist, she worked short term contracts around the world, often at very short notice. Venezuela one month, Russia the next. It had been a month since the last one and, even though it was good to be home for a while, it was about time for another. Our mortgage payments were eye-watering and her job paid a lot better than mine.

“It’s on an oil rig,” she told me. “Three weeks.” She bit her lip. “And you can’t come with me.”

That threw me. Back in the early days, she’d taken plenty of trips on her own. But now, as an established and respected specialist, the people who hired her were happy to pay for an extra plane ticket for me. They wanted to keep her happy and, since we shared a bed, the accommodation didn’t cost any more. Given the millions they had riding on their oil and mineral claims, an extra plane ticket didn’t even register with them, and if it kept their favorite geologist happy.... Fortunately, my work as a comic book illustrator meant I could work from anywhere in the world with an internet connection, and I’d got used to the nomadic lifestyle.

But apparently, it wouldn’t be happening in this case. “Why not?”

Heather was re-reading the email. “It’s to do with the insurance. Normally, you’re in worker accommodation and that’s fine, but on the rig you’d be right up close to the action and their underwriter won’t cover spouses or youngren.” She hesitated for a second. “I’ll tell them ‘No’.”

I considered for a moment. “It’s only three weeks. We could handle it. We used to do it all the time.”

She looked at me doubtfully. “But now? Just when we were planning to...?”

We gazed at each other. We’d finally made the commitment to start a family a few months ago, and Heather had come off the pill. We’d been going to start trying that week. “I know. But there’s no big hurry. We can carry on when you get back. As soon as you get back!” I smirked. “Hell, we might not even make it out of the arrivals lounge!”

She still looked worried.

“We managed before,” I told her in a reassuring tone. “We can manage again.”

Heather bit her lip uncertainly, but nodded. God, she was beautiful. Her robe had slid open just enough to reveal a tantalizing “V” of flesh, the sides of her breasts perfectly displayed to me. I almost thought about dragging her back to bed, but....

But the truth was, our sex life wasn’t great.

I knew it was me who was the problem. Heather had always been more willing to experiment, more open to kinky ideas. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to try things, but I never had the courage to suggest them, or to follow through with them if she came up with something. Once, about a year ago, when we’d both had too much wine, she very delicately floated the idea of introducing another man—just as a one-off, for one night. I went quiet, because even though part of me reeled in horror at the idea of her relaxing with someone else, I felt hot arousal slamming up from deep inside me. The idea of watching her while some other guy enjoyed her was a turn-on, and that in itself shocked the hell out of me. So I went quiet, and she immediately backpedalled, thinking I was aghast, and had never raised it since.

“Reply to them,” I suggested, trying to tear my eyes away from that slice of cleavage. “Find out what the deal is. That can’t hurt, right?”
Bestselling author of the "Cuckolded" stories, available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Google Play and All Romance Ebooks http://victoriawessex.com

The deal turned out to be very good indeed. Apparently the company was having all sorts of problems with rock strata of a type it hadn’t seen before, and needed an expert opinion on a daily basis as they drilled deeper and deeper. Heather would need to spend three weeks on the rig, way out off the shore of Texas, thousands of miles from our home. It would be painful, not seeing each other for that long, but they were willing to pay more than the last job had paid for three months. We couldn’t realistically say no.

Lance Grames, the head of operations on the rig, did a video call with Heather before she took the job. I was surprised by how young he was—maybe a year younger than me, so about five years older than Heather, his brown hair just a shade lighter than hers and his eyes a twinkling dark green. He’d picked up a tan from working out on the rigs for years, and as I glanced over Heather’s shoulder I noticed how solidly built he was. No doubt Heather noticed it, as well.

“And you must be Glen,” Lance said when he saw me. “Hi, Glen!” He smiled and waved, and I waved back. He seemed friendly enough, but something about him reminded me of someone and I couldn’t think who it was. I retreated off to the side, out of view of the laptop’s camera.

The interview went well. Heather and Lance seemed to get on really well—she certainly laughed at a lot of his jokes, throwing back her head and tossing her long hair. She looked good—she was in full make-up for the interview, and she’d put on a skirt and blouse that was perfectly respectable...except she’d undone maybe one button more than she normally would, giving just a hint of sex alongside the business. She was using her feminine charms, I realized, knowing that no man is immune to a little bit of cleavage.

Lance asked plenty of sensible questions about Heather’s experience and the conditions she was happy to work under. He warned her that she’d have to live with the crew, eating and relaxing with them, although of course she’d have her own room.

It was obvious from about five minutes in that Heather was going to get the job, yet Lance kept talking, chatting away about her circumstances, her plans for the future—even, in a roundabout way, about me.

“We met in college,” she told Lance proudly. “He was my first real love.”

“College sweethearts, huh?” Lance asked. “Cute.” As before, it sounded friendly, and yet something about the way he said it made me uncomfortable.

“There are no phone lines on the rig,” he warned us. “Well, one, but that’s hardwired to a monitoring station on-shore for emergencies. And no cell reception, out there. We do have internet access, via our company servers.

He gazed at Heather. “I feel bad about splitting the two of you up,” he said. “I’ll see if I can get our tech guys to lend you a company laptop for the duration, so Glen can video chat with you.”

I leaned into the camera’s view. “We already have a laptop,” I told him.

He shook his head. “All our computers are locked down tight. Company policy. The only access is through our network, and to access that you need one of our laptops. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get one.”

And that was that. Lance confirmed that Heather had the job, and as soon as he hung up, she ran over and hugged me. She’d be flying out in a few days’ time—that was how urgently they needed her.

I kissed my wife long and hard. The money would come in very useful, I completely trusted her away from home and while she was away I’d get ahead on my own work, turning in lots of comic book pages and freeing up some time in the future for a vacation. When she came back, we could go away somewhere together.

Everything was going to be great. So why did I have a gnawing sense of dread, down in the pit of my stomach?

Late that night, just as I was on the edge of relax, I finally worked out who Lance reminded me of. It wasn’t a particular permister—that’s why it had taken so long to figure it out. He was a composite of the jocks, in high school. Big and brawny and, if they saw the wimpy kid had something they wanted, they’d just snatch it right off of him.

I fell into a troured relax.
Bestselling author of the "Cuckolded" stories, available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Google Play and All Romance Ebooks http://victoriawessex.com

I wanted to drive Heather to the airport, but annoyingly the oil company had told us that the company laptop would be delivered that morning.

“The delivery guy will leave a card,” I told her. “Let me drive you.”

She shook her head. “It could be days before they can redeliver, and you want to be able to talk to me as soon as I’m there, right? I’ll get a cab.”

She insisted it wasn’t a problem and we shared a long, passionate kiss before she went. But when she’d gone, I couldn’t help but feel like I’d missed some important moment. Anyone else flying away for that long would be seen off by their spouse at the airport. It felt wrong.

***

I traced Heather’s progress through text messages as she flew across the country. The final few hours by helicopter, though, were silent—she was on a helicopter, far out of cell coverage. The laptop arrived and I set it up in our living room. It was top of the range, far better than the one we’d been using, and as Lance had said it was set up to connect directly into the company’s network—and from there, I’d be able to connect to the rig.

It shouldn’t have felt weird—a computer is a computer, right? But the way they’d set it up made it feel as if Heather was in one world and I was in another, with the laptop the only slender thread connecting them. If the laptop broke, I wouldn’t even be able to send her an email.

***

Hours later, as I was watching TV to try to get my mind off the feeling that something awful had happened to her, the laptop chimed softly. Heather was requesting a video call with me. I leapt across the room and hit
“Accept.”

When Heather’s face filled the screen, I let out a huge breath of relief. She’d seemed so far away all day, and suddenly she was right there, smiling shyly on the screen. Everything was going to be okay.

“Everything’s fine,” she told me. “I’m exhausted, but I’m here.”

“You look great,” I said. And I meant it. She’d swapped her suit for a pair of tight blue jeans and a sweatshirt, and the soft gray fabric hugged every curve of her upper body. I thought about how it would feel to smooth my hand over her hip, feeling the warmth of her through the denim. I wished that we’d made love that morning, before she left. Jesus, it’s going to be weeks!

I also noticed how good the camera on her end was. The image wasn’t murky and pixelated—it was clean and bright, and I could see every detail of her and the sparsely-furnished cabin behind her. The equipment really was top of the range.

“The crew seem fine,” she told me. “Good bunch of guys.” She looked away from the screen. “A little.....”

She didn’t finish, so I prodded. “A little what?”

“Oh, you know. They seem a little…hungry.”

I leaned closer to the screen. “What did they say?”

She shook her head urgently. “Nothing! It was just the way they looked at me, when I stepped off the helicopter. Like they hadn’t seen a woman in months.” She laughed. “I guess they haven’t.”

I turned that over in my head. “Are you the only woman on board?”

She nodded.

I don’t know why that surprised me. I knew that there weren’t many female oil workers, out on the rigs, but not many isn’t the same as none. “And there are how many men?”

“Fourteen.” She smirked. “They’re saying I’m the mascot. Or the cheerleader.”

Cheerleader. That idea swam back into my mind again, about Lance and the other riggers being the jocks, and me the geek.

Stupid. This wasn’t high school.

I focused on Heather and realized there was something I’d missed before, in my eagerness to see her again—a trace of sadness in her eyes. “Are you okay?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Sure.”

I may not have the biggest muscles, or the fattest pay packet, but I’ve always been good at one thing. I’ve always been sensitive, able to tell what people are feeling, much better than most men. Especially with Heather. That’s one of the reamisters we got together, that I really understood what was going on in her head—better, she said, than she herself did, sometimes. I tilted my head a little to one side. “Heather...”

“It’s nothing” she said quickly. “I’m fine. Anyway, I need to be going. I just wanted to let you know I was here safe. I’ll call you again tomorrow, okay?”

I nodded reluctantly and, with a kiss blown at the camera, she was gone.

An hour later, I got an instant message from her: I’m okay. Just got teary at airport and wished U had been there.

My jaw tightened. I knew I should have driven her. Lance and his damned laptop delivery...but I couldn’t blame him. It wasn’t like he’d timed it that way deliberately.
Bestselling author of the "Cuckolded" stories, available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Google Play and All Romance Ebooks http://victoriawessex.com

It was the evening of the next day before I got to speak to Heather again. She seemed happier, this time, talking enthusiastically about the work. She’d been for a jog around the rig, both to get a feel for the place and for the exercise. “It’s the only workout I’ll get while I’m here,” she told me, “so I figured I should get into the habit.”
“What do the others do?” I asked.

“There’s a weights room—you know what guys are like. With them, it’s all about the muscles.”

And she blushed. I wondered what the guys who worked on the rig were like. Young, probably—closer to her age than I was. No doubt they were strong, hauling all that drilling equipment around. Had she been looking at them?

“Are you getting to know them?” I asked, trying to come at the subject in a roundabout way.

“Oh, you know...a little. I mean, I eat meals with them and stuff. And they do movie nights, so I guess I’ll see them there. They seem nice.”

I remembered what she’d said earlier. “Not too...hungry?”

She flushed again. “I got a few looks, when I was jogging.” She looked down at herself.

For the first time, I really focused on what she was wearing. A sports crop-top, with some sort of sports bra showing underneath. It stopped everything jiggling, but the scoop neck left a generous portion of cleavage on display, still gleaming with sweat. Her midriff was bare—soft skin, toned muscle and the dark little hollow of her navel. Black running shorts hugged her thighs like a second skin and I knew they must be just as tight on her ass.
How many of the men had stopped their work to watch her approach, their eyes on those ripe, perfect breasts? How many had turned to watch her go, their gaze locked on the smooth curves of her ass?

The only woman on the rig....

But I trusted her completely. In fact, the idea of all those guys getting horny watching my wife, unable to do anything about it, sort of turned me on.

“Anyone in particular?” I asked with powerd casualness. “I mean, are you getting to know any names?”

She considered. “Well, there’s Lance. He’s been really friendly. And Tony, he’s nice.” I saw her check her watch.

“Anyway, I should go take a shower.” She glanced off camera, presumably towards the bathroom. She’d been given an en-suite room aboard the rig, as a concession to her being the only woman. She blew me a kiss and told me she loved me, and then her hand was descending towards the keyboard to cut the connection.

“Wait,” I said suddenly, and she froze. “Could you...leave the camera on?”

She blinked at me on the screen. “You mean...while I take a shower?”

I nodded.

“You want to watch me in the shower?”

I nodded again.

Heather flushed. “I don’t know...what if someone comes in?”

“Your room has a lock, right? Just leave the shower door open and turn the laptop so I can see.”

She bit her lip and I could see her cheeks flush. But I could see something else, too—her breathing had grown just a little quicker, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. We were apart for weeks—we had to do something, or we’d both go crazy.

“Okay,” she said at last, and I punched the air. A few seconds later, the camera view twisted as she turned the laptop, and I was looking at the sliding door to the bathroom. They’d built it as a wet room so there was no shower curtain, just a nozzle to stand under. Perfect.

I watched as Heather stripped off. Her hands were a little shaky as she peeled the crop top up over her breasts, resplendent in their black sports bra. She bit her lip again, gazing into the camera, and her innocence and nerves made my cock swell—if she’d dived in without hesitation it would have been hot enough, but the fact that she was doing it despite some reservations, because she loved me...that made it even hotter. I’d always been scared of suggesting things to spice up our sex life but, somehow, it was easier with her on the screen instead of in the same room. For once, it felt like I could...I don’t know. Almost corrupt her a little.

I had no idea, then, how much that evil idea would come back to haunt me.
Bestselling author of the "Cuckolded" stories, available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Google Play and All Romance Ebooks http://victoriawessex.com

“Go on,” I told her. “You look beautiful.”

She smiled and then stripped the sports bra off. I caught my breath as her breasts spilled out, full and heavy and perfect, each globe topped by a soft pink bud. Her nipples were like pencil erasers, and when they were hard, they stood out a good way from her body. They were super-sensitive too—just a little rubbing and she’d be moaning, and even a gentle pinch was too much for her—both in terms of pain and pleasure, she said. Luckily, I knew to be gentle.

Right now, they were soft...but I could already see them start to pucker as she stood there staring at the camera. She might have been hesitant, but a part of her clearly liked the feeling of being watched.

She kicked off her running shoes and then lowered her hands to her shorts...except she didn’t just lower them. They kind of skimmed down her body, as if to draw attention to her trim waist. It wasn’t exactly like a stripper would do it on stage—this was Heather, after all: my sweet, innocent wife. But it had just a hint of stripper about it. She was getting into it.

Her thumbs hooked into the shorts and she slid them down, taking her panties with them at the same time. She was shaven down to a neat triangle of hair there, the silky brown curls not quite hiding her delicate pink lips. I saw her flush again as she exposed herself completely to me, but there was a sort of pride, too.

She stepped into the shower and pressed the button for the water. Fresh water was limited, so the showers were on a timer, she’d told me. Sixty seconds of water. Sixty seconds of watching her naked body glisten as she turned and stretched her arms overhead, getting every inch of her wet. Her breasts shone as they bounced and for a second I almost considered stroking myself...but that would be weird, right? I found myself wishing there wasn’t a camera on my end, so I could do it without her knowing.

I caught myself and reddened. This was my wife I was watching! I shouldn’t be thinking of her like some slut on a website, and secretly jacking off to her!

The water stopped and she grabbed the bottle of shower gel. The idea was that you got wet, soaped up and then used another sixty second blast of water to rinse off. Of course, while the water was off you were left shivering and, as she frantically rubbed the shining green goo into her skin, I could see her nipples harden. Then she slapped her hand against the button again and gasped in relief as hot water crashed down over her. This time I was unable to stop my hand straying down to the front of my pants as I watched her rub her breasts...and then, to my delight, one of her hands slipped down between her thighs.

Her eyes fluttered closed and, private for a moment, I started to rub myself even as I watched her begin to do the same. I couldn’t believe she was playing with herself, right in front of me. Had she forgotten the camera was there, or was she doing it for my benefit? Either way, I ate it up, staring intently at the screen as her fingers played over her lips...and then slid between them.

Too soon, the water switched off and she pulled her hand away, then grabbed for the towel. I was so focused on what she was doing, I forgot to snatch my own hand away from my cock until it was too late.

She stared at the camera in amazement and then stepped closer. “Were you—”

I flushed. “No!” I swallowed. “OK, a little. Sorry. You just looked so...hot!”

Now she blushed. “Really?” she said shyly. She pulled the towel around herself. “OK. Um. I have to go.” And she ended the call, without a kiss or an I love you.

For long minutes afterwards, I was terrified. Had I angered her, or disappointed her? She’d known I was watching...surely she must have guessed what I’d be tempted to do? On the other hand, it was the first time I’d ever watched her play with herself—had I freaked her out?

She sent me an instant message later that evening. I sort of liked U watching. I think. Want to watch me again sometime?

I sent back YES!!!
Bestselling author of the "Cuckolded" stories, available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Google Play and All Romance Ebooks http://victoriawessex.com

When I got up on the morning of the third day, I took a look at the living room, where the remains of last night’s takeout still stood, and made a decision.

Left alone, we guys revert to cavemen pretty quickly—if I just let things slide, Heather would return to find me thirty pounds heavier, lying sprawled on the couch surrounded by beer cans and pizza boxes, eyes red from Netflix binges and video games. That wasn’t right—she was out there working her ass off on the rig for us.

So I cleaned up, hit the gym and then worked my ass off all day. By evening, I was exhausted, proud…and horny.

The laptop chimed, I accepted the call...and I was looking at some guy I didn’t know. Black hair cut short and a dark shadow of stubble around his chin. He wore jeans, but with a white shirt...not a roughneck, then—some sort of administrator? He had a deep tan and dark brown eyes, a hint of Latino about his looks. He grinned into the camera as he saw me. “It’s on!” he called.

Heather appeared from off camera. “Oh! Thanks! Hi, honey. Tony was just leaving, but he was curious to see you. Say ‘hi’!”

I waved, awkwardly. I was caught completely off guard—Tony looked to be bigger than me, his wide shoulders stretching his shirt. “Hi.”

“We’ve all been helping Heather settle in,” Tony said. “Don’t worry—we’ll take good care of her.” He grinned again and I felt stupid for my awkwardness—he seemed friendly enough.

Heather herded him out of her room and pushed the door closed behind him. She was turning back to me as it finished closing, so she didn’t see what I saw over her shoulder: Tony standing in the corridor, giving one last, longing look at her.

Wait...what exactly had he been doing in her room?

Don’t be paranoid! It was ridiculous—Heather wouldn’t be interested in him, except as eye candy, and she was completely faithful. The poor guy was just horny—hell, I’d only been without my wife for a few days and I was already feeling it. How long was it since the crew of the rig had had a woman—months? I should let him ogle her, just to throw him a bone.

I felt that familiar dark ripple pass through me, except this time with a twist. I’d always secretly liked the fantasy of seeing my wife with another man, even if I’d never allow it in reality. And I liked the idea of corrupting her, just a little—being the one to suggest something. What if....

No. That was crazy.

“Are you okay?” Heather asked, and I realized I hadn’t spoken yet.

“Sorry. How are you? How’s work?”

We chatted about her day and I told her proudly how I’d cranked out lots of pages. And then the conversation turned to the crew.

“It’s okay,” she told me. “I eat breakfast with them—the food’s better than you’d think. Some of them make a few off-color jokes, but most of them are okay. They look at me a lot, but they don’t do anything.”

“And Tony?” I asked casually.

“He’s sort of the quartermaster—provisions and things. He’s stopped by a few times. He’s responsible for getting the mail to us, and getting anything from shore that people want. The guys always want...you know—” she flushed. “Porn.”

All those guys, without a woman for months... Heather walking amongst them must be like a gift from the gods. I wondered how many guys’ fantasies she was appearing in, and the idea made my cock twitch.

“Anyway,” she said, “I was asking him if I could get a few things for my room, since I’m going to be cooped up here so long. Just something to go on the walls.”

I nodded. But I was thinking of the look Tony had given her, as the door closed.

“About last night,” she said, and I snapped back to the present.

“Was it okay?” I asked. I could feel myself tensing up. “I didn’t mean to freak you out or anything.”

Heather shook her head. “It was fine.” She lowered her eyes. “Better than fine.”

She let that hang there for a few seconds.

“Would you like to do it again?” I asked carefully.

She bit her lip. God, she was even more beautiful when she was a little unsure, a little nervous. She seemed so innocent on the surface, but I was starting to realize that there were dark fantasies swirling beneath. “Another shower?” she asked at last.

I considered. She was back in her jeans and sweatshirt tonight, her breasts visible as enticing swells beneath the soft fabric.

“What if you started by taking off your clothes—right here in front of the camera?” I asked.
Bestselling author of the "Cuckolded" stories, available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Google Play and All Romance Ebooks http://victoriawessex.com

She stared into my eyes for a moment and then got up. I caught my breath, worried that I’d offended her—

And then she locked the door and sat back down. A second later, she pulled the sweatshirt over her head, and then the tank top she wore beneath. I gazed at her sitting there in her bra, the black lace cupping and squeezing her ripe breasts, almost offering them up to the camera. I could feel my cock begin to swell and harden.

“Take it off,” I told her, and I could hear the lust in my own voice. Our sex life hadn’t been great before she went away but now, separated by thousands of miles, I was almost takes just from a glimpse of her flesh.

She kept her eyes locked on the camera as she reached behind her and undid the clasp. I saw the bra loosen, and then she was stripping it down her arms and off. Her breasts bobbed free, the skin so smooth I longed to touch it, those perfect pink nipples just beginning to pucker.

“Can you play with them for me?” I whispered, and she nodded. Her hands came up to clutch her breasts, squeezing them gently...and then harder. Her thumbs went to work on her nipples and I watched them stiffen.

She was no more than two feet from the camera and the view was magnificent, her long, soft hair cascading down over her shoulders, her soft breasts in her hands. She looked like some pre-Raphaelite goddess of ecstasy.

“Now the jeans,” I said quickly. I’d positioned the laptop on a table this time, and I had my legs tucked underneath. That meant I could stroke myself through my jeans, under the table, without it being too obvious...and I started to do exactly that.

Heather stood up and pulled off her shoes and jeans, then stood there for a second in her panties. They were red, I saw, bright red briefs. A surprisingly sexy choice, to wear under jeans for a day at work....had she known she’d been stripping for me—guessed at what I’d want, after last night?

Or was she dressing, unbeknownst to them, for the guys on the rig? Reacting to all that male attention by secretly dressing like a slut, under her demure work clothes?

She pushed the panties down her thighs and off. I saw her prepare to sit back down in the chair, looking like some internet porn model.

She sat and I asked her to move back a little, so that I could see her lower body. “Open your legs,” I said without thinking.

She blinked at me.

I suddenly reddened. “Sorry!” I told her. “I didn’t mean to order you around! I just—I’m sorry. I got carried away.”

She looked flustered. “It’s okay,” she said. I was normally good at reading her, but this time I couldn’t tell—was she angry? Aroused? She slowly parted her thighs and her pussy was revealed, soft brown hair and the silky softness of her pink lips. And then she opened her legs wider and the outer lips parted. The camera was so good that I could see tantalizing pink inside...and even a hint of gleaming reflection. She was wet.

“Would you play with yourself again?” I asked. I was almost panting.

“You’re going to jack off, aren’t you?” she asked in return. “You’re doing it right now, aren’t you?”

I considered lying, but nodded.

“Show me.”

I pushed back my chair from the table and unbuttoned my jeans, releasing my stiff cock. Stroking the flesh was so much better than stroking it through the rough fabric and I gasped at how good it felt.

On screen, Heather was stroking two fingers up and down the lips of her pussy, staring straight at the camera. In the corner of the screen, in a much smaller window, I could see what she saw—me, sitting with my cock out, one hand stroking it in a gradually escalating rhythm.

“God,” Heather was saying through the speakers. “God, I can feel you watching me.” Her fingers moved faster, and I thought I could see the shine of moisture on her lips, now. My own hand moved faster.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked.

“I’m thinking about you fucking me,” Heather said, the words exploding out of her in a rush of air. My cock grew even harder—this was turning her on as much as me! She never normally talked like that! I could feel myself ready to shoot.

“I’m thinking about—God—” Her voice was desperate, now, her fingers coming up to circle her clit. “I’m thinking about your hard cock inside me!”

That was all it took. I exploded, hot ropes of cum erupting straight up out of my cock. It was too late to grab a tissue or do anything else, so I had to just let it spray down onto my lap and the floor. My eyes were locked on the screen, where Heather suddenly leaned forward and went rigid, her gasping face close to the camera, lips parted in ecstasy....

God. She was coming, right in front of me.

I watched her. I watched every shudder and moan as the climax flowed through her, her breasts swaying, her thighs locking tight around the hand between them. She finally flopped back in her chair, sated. With an exhausted smile and a blown kiss, she ended the call.

I cleaned up and went to bed happy. In a weird way, this time apart was actually reinvigorating our sex lives. Maybe we could use this time to open up about a few fantasies and—ironically—get closer. And then, when she came back, things would be better than ever.
Bestselling author of the "Cuckolded" stories, available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Google Play and All Romance Ebooks http://victoriawessex.com

A week went by.

My new routine went well. I got ahead in my work, hit the gym every day and tried not to eat complete crap. The house was eerily quiet, though.

The highlight of each day was my call with Heather. We had a few nights when we just talked normally and for a while I was worried I’d upset her, and that she wouldn’t want to show herself on camera for me again. But on the third night, she called wearing a bathrobe and slowly opened the front to show that she was naked underneath.

She teased me for an hour, giving me glimpses of breast and thigh, before she finally rubbed herself to a climax in front of me.

A few days later, she sent me some photos she’d taken of life around the rig. For the first time, I got a feel for the vast size of the place, and the isolation. One picture showed the view they woke up to every morning: nothing but flat, featureless ocean in every direction.

As if to compensate, the crew were clearly a tight-knit bunch. I look at body language a lot, because it helps me get the poses right in the panels I draw. So I noticed the way the guys all stood close together, without any of the artificial distance lawyers or doctors would have put between themselves. These were guys who relied on each other every day—drilling was dangerous work and, just like in the army, you need to know someone’s got your back. All of the guys were in good shape—I could see the difference between the “t-shirt muscles” I saw at the gym and the bodies these guys had, with thick biceps and broad backs built from hauling equipment around all day. They were in better shape than Rick, the pool cleaner—the one I’d caught Heather eying up.

Three weeks. She’s there for three weeks!

There was one photo in particular—sort of a classic pose. I could imagine one of the guys suggesting it, maybe goading Heather into doing it. Six guys stood in a line, complete with hard hats and wrenches, and Heather lay supported in their arms with everyone beaming at the camera.

It was a perfectly innocent photo, the same sort of thing you see in a local newspaper when some female celebrity opens a new development and has her picture taken with the construction crew. Except….

Except while Heather was innocently smiling at the camera, there was something in the eyes of the men holding her. Hunger. And I noticed how the guy who was supporting her thighs was using his hands, rather than his forearms. So was the guy at her chest.

Whoever had taken the photo had snapped two pictures, for safety. They were only taken a second apart and were almost identical, but when I flipped back and forth between the two I could see those hands moving, just a little, as if those two were subtly feeling her up.

Maybe they’d just been making sure they had a good hold of her. Maybe I was paranoid.

Maybe.
Bestselling author of the "Cuckolded" stories, available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Google Play and All Romance Ebooks http://victoriawessex.com

The night after she sent the photos, I had a dream. Weirdly, it wasn’t about the guys in the photos, but about Tony. In my dream, I called my wife and he answered. Only this time he was butt naked, and I could see my wife arelax in the bed behind him as he gave me a mocking grin.

After that, I couldn’t relax. I made myself a very large coffee, skipped the gym and spent the day mooching around in a bad mood, telling myself I was being ridiculous. Heather wouldn’t cheat on me. No way!

I powerd myself to work, but as I sat there sketching heroes and villains I found my mind wandering to Tony and that look he’d given Heather as he’d left her room. I wondered how closely he worked with her. Was he finding excuses to be around her? Coming to her room to check up on her? Offering to accompany her on runs around the rig, so he could jog behind her and check out her ass? My imagination ran riot.

And the weird thing was...I wasn’t angry about it. I was sort of turned on. And that in turn made me angry, until I didn’t know what I was feeling. I should be jealous, not aroused!

Eventually, staring out of the window with coffee mug in hand, I confronted it. Maybe it wasn’t so weird that I was turned on by the whole situation. In a sense, even though I was the only guy not on the rig with Heather, I was the luckiest one. All of us—them and me—fantasized about her. But I was the only one who’d actually fucked her, the only one of us who would ever fuck her. And while she’d been on board, I was the only one who’d seen her naked. The only one who’d shot his load alongside her own moaning climax.

I felt myself relax a little. I even started to feel good about it. What I thought next seemed like just a natural progression.

She would never cheat on me. And she was the only woman on the rig. I almost felt sorry for those other guys, lusting after her all day, longing for just the smallest glimpse of her. Tony, in particular. I could tell he was crazy about her.

What if…what if I encouraged her to give the guys just a taste? Or maybe even just Tony. There was no harm in that, right? I’d be like the rich man, dropping a few coins out of his castle window to the peasants. That appealed to me. I was a little intimidated by the guys on the rig—that old jock/geek thing, again. I wasn’t as tall, as strong, or as good-looking as them and, with all their hazard pay, I probably didn’t even make as much money as them.
Dangling Heather in front of them would give me a chance to feel powerful again.

I turned the thought over and over in my mind. I needed to think on it some more before I risked doing anything, but I could feel the excitement rushing through my veins. I was suddenly more fired up than I had been in days.
In the meantime, I had another idea. I emailed Heather and asked her if she’d shave herself bare for me. I sat there staring at the email for almost an hour before finally plucking up the courage to send it. A few hours later, a reply came back.

“Wait and see.”
Bestselling author of the "Cuckolded" stories, available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Google Play and All Romance Ebooks http://victoriawessex.com

I counted the minutes until that night’s call. When she called, I was sitting there ready—by now, I’d taken the precaution of bringing a box of tissues.

Two surprises greeted me. She was in a dress—I was surprised she’d even bothered taking a dress to the rig—and there was a bottle of red wine on the desk next to her keyboard.

“I thought I’d dress up for you a little,” she told me, and stood up to show me. The dress was a simple black cocktail dress—about the most unsuitable thing possible for an oil rig, which I suppose was sort of the point. It had a deep “V” shaped neckline that showed off the sides of her fabulous breasts and hugged her body down to mid thigh, making the most of her shapely legs. She’d even gone to the trouble to put on heels for me.

“You look incredible,” I told her. “What’s with the wine?”

She glanced at the bottle as if she’d forgotten it was there. “Oh! Tony stopped by. He said it was a welcome gift. We’re not meant to have holy water on board, but he sneaked it in for me. I doubt I’ll actually take any of it.”

Tony again. Visiting the cabin of a married woman to give her a bottle of wine. A married woman who was away from her husband for three weeks. It was pretty obvious what he wanted. He wasn’t going to get it—I had complete faith in Heather—but the idea of it, of him angling for my wife...it should have made me mad—it did, in a way—but it turned me on, as well.

“Maybe you should have a glass,” I suggested. “Seems a shame to waste it.”

I don’t know what I was thinking. I wasn’t thinking, except maybe with my cock. That notion of corrupting her, again. And teasing another man, one who really wanted her.

She bit her lip nervously, eying the bottle...and then opened it. She had to use a tumbler, wine glasses not being abundant on an oil rig. But she poured a large glass and, as I watched, drank about half of it.

“Did you do it?” I asked. My eyes were on her face—she’d put on a little more make-up than she wore during the day, and she looked absolutely gorgeous: full lips and dark, smoky eyes. But every few seconds, my gaze would dart down to her groin, hidden beneath the dress.

She looked at the camera shyly, but with just a hint of a smirk. “Maybe....”

My cock was already hard. “Show me!”

She stood up. Then she drank most of the rest of the glass of wine. She needed the extra courage, I guess, and my excitement grew because that surely indicated that she’d done it, that she was nervous about showing me her new look.

The dress was tight around her hips and, when she slid the hem up above her panties, it stayed there without her holding it. She slowly hooked down her panties....

I let out a gasp. Her pussy was shaved completely bare, both the lips and the area above. I could see every detail of her soft, pink lips—she was exposed as never before.

“You’re beautiful,” I told her. “Sit down like that.”

She sat, and with her legs slightly parted, my view was even better. She reached down between her thighs and started to stroke herself, fingertips skimming over her bare flesh. “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” she told me.

I nodded dumbly.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked.

“Tony,” I said.

It was out before I realized I’d said it.

“Tony?!” she asked incredulously.

I hesitated, then nodded.

She stared at me for an explanation.

“I...like the idea of him wanting you,” I said lamely.

She blinked. “You think he wants me?”

She could be so naïve. “Of course he does. All the visits to your room, making you feel welcome. The wine. He’s hoping he can relax with you.”

Her jaw dropped open. “You really think so?!” She leaned forward. “Glen, I would never—”
I shook my head. “Of course not! I know that.” I watched as she relaxed. “But....”

She waited. “But what?”

The mood changed, in that second. Time seemed to slow down. Every word was suddenly weighted, every look important.

“You remember how you asked me, way back, about another man joining us for sex?” I asked.

She looked shocked that I even remembered the conversation. “We were takes,” she said.

“I know.”

“And you seemed...shocked,” she said.

“I know. But I sort of...wasn’t. Or I was, but it didn’t mean I didn’t like the idea.”

I couldn’t believe what I was saying. But it was that sort of moment, when dark secrets spill out. We were both leaning close in to our screens, utterly focused on each other.

“You’d like me...to have sex with another man?” she asked slowly. She looked amazed...but also aroused.

“I don’t know if I’d want it to go that far. But...I like the idea of other men wanting you. Of them trying to seduce you. Does that make sense?”

She nodded slowly.

“Whereabouts does Tony bunk?” I asked.

“Just down the corridor,” she said quietly.

We both just stared at each other for a moment.

“What if you went and knocked on his door...” I said. “And invited him into your room to share the rest of the wine?”

Heather took a long, shuddering breath in. “Are you sure, Glen? I don’t want to do something we’ll regret.”

“Do you like him?” I asked.

She hesitated.

“It’s okay,” I told her. “Really.”

“Yes,” she said at last. “He’s pretty hot. And he seems like a nice guy. Yes. I like him.”

We both stared at each other again. A movement caught my attention, out of the corner of my eye. Her hand, down between her thighs, had stopped moving while we’d been talking. But now she was stroking herself again.

“How far would we go?” she asked, “if we did this?”
Bestselling author of the "Cuckolded" stories, available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Google Play and All Romance Ebooks http://victoriawessex.com

I considered. I wasn’t sure what I wanted, exactly. I just knew that the idea of some guy lusting after my wife made me harder than I’d thought possible. I hadn’t had a take, but I felt like I was takes, excited by the idea of it.

“What if...you let him kiss you?” I said. “And then told him that you’re married, and sent him packing?”

She stared at me. “This is insane,” she said suddenly. But her fingers didn’t stop moving.

“What if you let him kiss you?” I asked again.

“You’d really be okay with that?” she asked.

I hesitated, thinking about it hard. The idea of his lips on hers...there was some part of me, the caveman part, I guess, that exploded into white-hot rage at the idea. But there was another part, equally strong, that stirred into life, dark as oil. I nodded.

“But I want to watch,” I told her. “You have to leave the camera on.”

She smiled suddenly, as if the ridiculousness of the whole thing had just occurred to her. I think she didn’t believe we’d actually go through with it. “He’ll see it’s on.”

“Not if you minimize the chat program.”

She glanced at the door, and I knew she was imagining the corridor outside, and Tony’s door. “What if you change your mind?” she asked. “We need a way to communicate.”

After a little experimenting, we found that even when the chat program was minimized, it displayed the last message received in the task bar at the bottom of the screen. I could send a one word message and she’d see it, even if she just glanced at the screen. We agree on GREEN and RED for “Keep going” and “Stop”. She wouldn’t be able to talk back, of course, or Tony would realize what was going on.

She shook her head. “We can’t,” she said. “We’re married.”

“It’s not cheating if I’m okay with it,” I told her.

“What is it, then?” She poured herself another glass of wine and took a gulp. “’Swinging?’”

“It doesn’t have to be anything, apart from one crazy night. Just a one-off thing. As far as Tony knows, he tried his luck, got as far as a kiss and was turned down. That’s it.”
She hesitated.

“You do want to do it, right? I mean, you like him?” I asked.

She looked at me very seriously, and then nodded. I could see the gleam in her eyes. She wanted to, but she couldn’t believe I was allowing her to.

“It’s okay,” I told her. “Go and knock on his door. Have fun. I’ll tell you if I want you to stop.”
She stared at me for another few seconds. “I love you,” she told me suddenly.

“I love you, too.”

I saw her lean forward and click something on her laptop. An icon appeared to tell me that she’d muted me at her end. That seemed like a good idea at the time—we didn’t want to alert Tony and I might accidentally gasp or something. My view didn’t change, but I knew that on her end, the chat program had closed down to the taskbar at the bottom. I watched as Heather opened her door and looked both ways down the corridor. It hit me that she was in a dress, and heels. Of course she wouldn’t want to be seen by the rest of the crew. She slipped out, and I took the opportunity to run to the kitchen and grab myself a beer.

I got back first and sat there nervously waiting. Would she do it, or chicken out? Would Tony come back to the room with her? What if I was wrong about him, and his intentions were completely honorable? Would he think she was trying to seduce him?

The door opened and I sat up straight in my chair. My wife came in first, followed by Tony. He was in a tank top and jeans, this time, and I looked enviously at his thickly muscled arms. He shut the door behind him.

It was strange, being an invisible observer in the room. I started to realize how much men sneak looks when the woman isn’t looking. Heather was pouring the wine, her hand shaking a little, and as soon as she looked down towards the bottle, Tony’s eyes were licking down her body, focusing especially on her breasts.

They clinked glasses and looked for a place to sit down. There was only one chair, so Heather sat down on the bed. It was a narrow, single bed—no one has lovers, aboard an oil rig.

Except this lucky crew, went through my head.

She’s not going to relax with him, I reminded myself. It’s just a tease. She’s just going to tease him. Maybe kiss him.

Tony sat down right next to my wife, their hips a hand width apart. My heart started beating faster. They chatted, making innocent small talk about her work, his work, life on the rig...but I was following Tony’s gaze, and it led straight to my wife’s naked thighs.

They finished the first glass of wine and Tony suggested a second. I saw Heather hesitate—she’d already had a glass and a half before he arrived, so she was well ahead of him. She glanced at the camera.

GREEN, I typed. I figured she needed a little more Dutch courage.

She must have seen the word appear in the taskbar, because she nodded to Tony and he refilled her glass. As he put the bottle down, he shifted his weight a little. An innocent enough move, but when he resettled on the bed he was even closer to Heather, their legs almost touching. And when he leaned back, stretching his shoulders, his hand landed behind her. He didn’t have his arm around her, exactly, but he was about halfway there.

I saw Heather glance at the camera again. I could see her breathing get a little faster, her breasts rising and falling under the dress. She was nervous as hell, but she was aroused, too. She was watching the taskbar, checking to see if I would type RED. But I didn’t.

She relaxed a little and turned towards Tony just as he kissed her.

It happened suddenly, his lips coming down on hers before she was prepared. She relaxed into it for a second, eyes closed, and then seemed to suddenly catch herself and jerk away.

“I—I’m married,” she stammered.

“So?” Tony said quietly.

I felt my cock twitch. Something about the way he discounted me so easily. I was disgusted at myself, but I couldn’t deny how turned on I was.

Heather shook her head. “We can’t.”

Tony moved forward on the bed. “We can.” He kissed her again, and she moved back away from him, but his lips followed her. When she broke away for the second time, she was panting, her face flushed. “We—Tony, I like you but—”

He kissed her a third time, and this time he had her backed up against the wall. He kissed her hard, and then I saw their cheeks move as his tongue slipped into her mouth. She groaned, a low sound of passion and resignation, and stopped struggling.

I leaned closer, my cock rock hard. God, he was doing it. Another man was kissing my wife, right in front of me. I was more turned on than I’d ever been in my life. I could see her relaxing into the kiss, even starting to kiss him back a little....

Then his hands slid up to her breasts, cupping the firm globes and squeezing gently.

I blinked. We hadn’t talked about that—about touching and groping. I waited for her to stop him.

But Heather was kissing him hard. She made no attempt to break the kiss, this time. Not even when one hand slid down her body to her leg and started stroking the bare skin of her thigh. I watched as the hand slid up under her tight skirt—I could actually see the outline of it as it rose up to her inner thigh.

I shook my head in disbelief. This was going too far! Why wasn’t she stopping him?

He lifted his lips from hers for a second and I thought that would be her cue. I thought she’d shake her head and tell him to get off her, and he’d slink back to his room. But instead, she tilted her head back a little, exposing her throat, and a whisper escaped her.

The laptop’s microphone was excellent. Her voice was low and husky, but I still heard her say it. “Yes.”

Tony smiled and his hand slid higher, his wrist pushing up the hem of her dress around her thighs. More and more smooth skin appeared, and then he stopped and lifted his head in amazement. I saw Heather flush as she realized what he’d felt...or rather, hadn’t felt. It took me a second longer to get it.

“No panties,” breathed Tony. A sly smile spread across his face. “You strut around playing the scientist, but you’re really just a slut, aren’t you?”
Bestselling author of the "Cuckolded" stories, available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Google Play and All Romance Ebooks http://victoriawessex.com

No, I thought, she took them off for me! But there was no reamister for him to think that. He didn’t know I was watching—he thought she was cheating on me. As far as he knew, she was hot for him and had dressed accordingly.

And wasn’t that true, in a way? She did like him. And judging from her reaction to him touching her, it went a lot further than like. That should make me angry, I thought. And it did...but the anger was twisted together with something else, something even more powerful. Something that wanted to see this thing go further and further and the hell with the consequences. What the hell was wrong with me?

She was staring up at him now, having slid down the wall a little so that she was partially under him. Her mouth moved weakly, but she didn’t speak. Tony’s hand started to slide around her hip, towards the front. Towards her pussy.

Okay, this has gone far enough. I typed RED. But I hesitated, just before I hit “Enter” to send it. How far will she go, if I don’t stop it? My breathing was hot and tight, every muscle in my body tense. My cock was harder than I’d ever felt it.

Tony hiked the dress up higher and both he and I gasped aloud as Heather’s shaven pussy came into view. He reached for it—

“Stop.” It was firm and unequivocal. Heather pushed herself up on her forearms. “Stop. We can’t. I’m—married.”

“You want it,” Tony told her. But he didn’t touch her.

She took a deep breath. “Please leave,” she told him.

He stared at her for a second, but then reluctantly got off the bed and left, without a backward glance. She tugged her dress down and then flopped on the bed as if in shock. After a few seconds, she rolled over and stared at the camera. She stretched out and made the chat window full screen, then unmuted me.

“Wow.” It was all I could think to say.

She pressed her lips tight together. “Are you...angry?” She dropped her eyes. “It went further than we talked about.”

I shook my head. “No.” I looked down at my own screen, where the message “RED” still sat, waiting to be sent. I deleted it. “It was fine. It was great.” And I meant it. I’d been turned on throughout—even now it was over, the memory of it made me want to grab my cock and stroke frantically. The knowledge that Tony was just a few doors down the corridor, lusting after her—maybe jacking off thinking about her—it made me see her in a whole new light. Whenever I looked at her breasts, I imagined another man’s hands on them. Whenever I admired her legs, I thought of another man between them.

That was crazy, of course. I’d never let another man fuck her. That part was just a fantasy.

“Did you like it?” I asked.

She swallowed nervously.

“Be honest,” I told her.

She stared at me for a moment. Then, “God, yes. It was fantastic.”

I went to nod, but she hadn’t finished.

“He’s a great kisser, and...I don’t know, I suppose I thought it would be just like kissing you. I wasn’t ready for how different it was.”

“Different?” A pang of jealousy went through me.

“He was more...” Her eyes were distant, remembering. “He was very strong, in his kiss. I know that doesn’t make sense, exactly. But it was like he knew what he wanted. He was demanding,” she said.

What does that mean? That I’m limp and weak when I kiss her? But I’d asked—I had to accept the answer. “Okay—”

“And when he touched me...his hands are really big. It’s not that he’s rough, exactly, but he just sort of makes me feel...small. Fragile.”

I nodded, something cold gnawing at me inside.

“When he was about to touch me—When he had my dress up and he was about to touch me there, I had to stop it,” she said.

I thought she was reassuring me. “I know. Don’t worry, I trust you,” I told her.

But she shook her head. “No. I don’t mean it like that. I mean, I had to stop him then, because....” She flushed and bit her lip. “Because if I’d let him touch me there, if I’d let it go any further...” She looked down at her hands, unable to meet my gaze. “I’m not sure I would have been able to stop.”

It hit me like a punch in the chest. I’d known she liked him—hell, I’d known she had a thing for strong, muscled men for years. But I thought her loyalty to me overrode all of that. I didn’t think she’d ever be so turned on that she’d lose control and do something I didn’t want. I’d forgotten, in my excitement, that she was just as human as me, and she could get carried away just as easily. Jesus, I’m stupid. How close had we come to disaster? “I understand,” I said at last.

“Did you enjoy it?” she asked, looking into the camera.

“Yes,” I said quickly, because I didn’t want her to feel guilty—after all, she’d only done what we agreed, more or less. If there was any blame, it was on me for coming up with the whole idea.

And then she said something that took me by surprise.

“Do you want to do it again?” she asked. Her voice was small. And hopeful.

My immediate thought was “No.” But something made me hold back. Partially it was that my mind was still in a whirl, conflicting emotions raging around inside me. I didn’t want this thing to go any further, but at the same time...part of me really did. Also, I was worried that if I stamped down on it hard now, Heather would think I was angry at her and be upset. I had to be careful, especially with her so far way. It wasn’t as if I could just reach out and give her a comforting hug.

And that’s how I made my mistake. The one that changed our lives forever.

“I need to think about it,” I told her. “Okay?”

She nodded and blew me a kiss. We told each other I love you and then we ended the call.
Bestselling author of the "Cuckolded" stories, available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Google Play and All Romance Ebooks http://victoriawessex.com

The next morning, I made a huge pot of coffee and sat there at the kitchen table takeing cup after cup, thinking.

In the cool morning sunlight, the events of the night before seemed insane. Had I really encouraged my wife to flirt with...seduce another man?! Had I really sat there and watched him kiss her and grope her...damn near finger her, if she hadn’t stopped him? Other men would have started a fight over it, but I’d got off on it.

What was wrong with me?

I knew that I liked the idea of seeing her with other men. The idea of it. Not the reality. And yet, last night I’d come close to making it all come true. My fantasies were a hair’s breadth away from getting both of us into deep, deep trouble. Heather was on that rig for almost another two weeks, and now she had to work with a guy she’d had a fling with. I’d put her into an incredibly awkward situation, and I felt awful.

Although...she had enjoyed it. I felt my guts tighten. The way she’d described how he’d kissed her, how his hands had felt on her...didn’t she know that drove me crazy? Did she really think I enjoyed that part—being compared to other, stronger men?

Did I?

No, of course not.

I sighed and ran my hands through my hair. This had to stop, and stop now.

I moved through to the lounge and noticed something on the laptop. I’d got into the habit of leaving it on, in case Heather called, and there was a “New Email” indicator flashing. I clicked it.

Glen,

Thank you for being so honest. I think it’s great that we’re finally opening up to each other and thank you for being so clear about what you want. I’m going to have to think about it, but I’ll call you tonight. Sorry to hear about the camera—I was looking forward to seeing you and talking to you, but text chat will be nearly as good.
And you can still watch me!
Love you,
Heather

What? It sounded like she was responding to an email. But I hadn’t emailed her yet.

Then I saw the email she was responding to, quoted below hers. I read on.

Hi Heather,

First of all, I love you.

I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened tonight with Tony. You didn’t do anything wrong—please believe that. The only permister who’s maybe done something wrong is me. I haven’t been completely honest with you. I told you that I like the idea of other men wanting you. What you did with Tony really turned me on—more than I can say. I’ve had a long think about it and, if it’s okay with you, I *do* want things to go further.

I want you to have sex with Tony—if you want to.

There’ll be no jealousy. I’ll be sitting here jacking off, watching you. Just leave the camera on like you did before.

If I change my mind—I won’t, but just to reassure you—I’ll type RED, like we agreed. But trust me, that won’t happen. One small problem—the camera and microphone on the laptop at this end are kaput. I’ve spent the last few hours trying to fix them, but it’s beyond me—some sort of driver problem. I can still see and hear you, though, and I can use text chat to talk to you.

I think this whole thing could actually bring us closer together. When we get back, the sex will be better than ever because you’ll have had new experiences. You’re a beautiful woman and you deserve the best.

I know this is a lot to take in. Think about it.

I love you,
Glen

I stared at the screen.

WHAT

THE

FUCK?!

I hadn’t written that email! Had someone sent it from another address and pretended to be me? I checked my “Sent” folder. The email was sitting there, sent a few hours after I hit the sack the night before.

For a second, I wondered if I was going crazy. Was I suffering from multiple permisterality disorder? Was this my subconscious coming out? Had I relaxwalked in the middle of the night and typed an email that revealed my true feelings?

I shook my head, trying to clear it. Whatever was going on, the first thing I had to do was tell Heather that that was not how I felt. God, what if she’d already done her thinking and decided to relax with Tony? What if she was planning his seduction, right now?

I clicked “Compose” to start a new email.

Nothing happened.

And then I got a video call from the one other contact in the laptop’s address book. Lance. I answered.

“Hello, Glen,” he said. And he smiled a smile utterly devoid of warmth.

A deep, cold sense of dream started in my stomach. I fought to hold it back, praying I was wrong.

“We’re going to have some fun,” he told me. “With Heather.”
Bestselling author of the "Cuckolded" stories, available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Google Play and All Romance Ebooks http://victoriawessex.com

Enjoying it so far? That's considerably less than half of the full story. The full thing is 32,000 words, and if you think you can guess everything the guys on the rig have planned for Heather, I'm afraid you're underestimating me.

Below are the links to the full story on Amazon.com, Amazon UK, Amazon Canada and Barnes & Noble. Whether you decide to buy or not, I hope you enjoyed the extract

Remember that you don't need a Kindle to read ebooks from Amazon. They have free reader apps for PC, Mac, iPad, Android phones, or you can even just read it in your browser using their Cloud Reader.

Cuckolded - My Wife on the Oil Rig
The hyperlink is visible to registered members only!
The hyperlink is visible to registered members only!
The hyperlink is visible to registered members only!
The hyperlink is visible to registered members only!
Bestselling author of the "Cuckolded" stories, available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Google Play and All Romance Ebooks http://victoriawessex.com

Can I order this direct from you??

My husband reads and enjoys your books..

Victoria,
Another little jewel from your pen. I wondered how you were going to get it to start. A nice touch that, now we will all wonder what happened next. A professional tease I suppose. Thanks for giving it to us. I enjoyed it.

I'm loving this! You've successfully whetted my appetite to go and buy a copy! It's truly brilliant.

Thank you all

Lance - I don't sell direct, but I am in the process of getting my stories up on Google Play and All Romance Ebooks to give people more options. The advantage of All Romance Ebooks is that they take PayPal, which I know some people prefer for discretion I'll make an announcement on my mailing list as soon as the stories are up on Google and ARe (http://list.victoriawessex.com if you want to join)
Bestselling author of the "Cuckolded" stories, available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Google Play and All Romance Ebooks http://victoriawessex.com

...and here's that announcement. ALL of my "Cuckolded" books are now up on both Google Play and on All Romance Ebooks, and the paperback is out.

Google Play means you can pay using your mobile phone. All Romance Ebooks take PayPal. Both good options if you don't want cuckold-related books showing up on your Amazon account (another option is to set up a second Amazon account and fund it using a gift card from your main Amazon account).

The hyperlink is visible to registered members only! (epub format for ereaders or PDF for your PC)

The hyperlink is visible to registered members only!s (download in PDF, html and other formats)

Finally, some people requested a paperback version so they could show it to their wives/girlfriends. It's now out and available on Amazon. The hyperlink is visible to registered members only!
Bestselling author of the "Cuckolded" stories, available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Google Play and All Romance Ebooks http://victoriawessex.com

What a great read. Thanks for the free segments. I just had to read the whole thing!

"and if you think you can guess everything the guys on the rig have planned for Heather, I'm afraid you're underestimating me"

Yeah, turns out they are all big Scrabble fans. Crazy I know!

LOL, just kidding. This is amazing, I was just looking at this book on Amazon. But yes, I'm not sure I want my purchases tracked....at least not this type. I'll have to look into the paypal method you mentioned. Thanks.