“Presents: A Christmas Tale”

“Presents” Chapter 1
by c.w. cobblestone

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The fruitcake wouldn’t fit in Elena’s suitcase, so I set the tin by the front door near the ski equipment, causing my bitchy wife to fly into one of her tirades. 

“Why is my mom’s fruitcake on the floor? You don’t put food on the goddamn floor, Roger — what’s wrong with you? Are you stupid?”

“S-sorry, honey, it’s in a tin so I thought—”

“There’s your problem right there: You thought. Don’t think. God didn’t give you the equipment — upstairs or downstairs.”

I hung my head and absorbed the familiar insults to my intellect and three-inch penis while my wife glowered at me with her nostrils flared.

“And, quit calling me ‘honey’ — how many times do I have to tell you that? It makes my skin crawl.”

“S-sorry.” I stared at my shoes, trying not to cry.

“Should I tell Kurt you won’t stop acting like we’re husband and wife still?”

I blanched. “N-no, please, I … I’m sorry. It’s habit, that’s all — I’m used to calling you ‘honey’ after all these years. I’m trying, but it’s hard sometimes.”

“Well, you better not let him hear you, if you don’t want another ass-whooping. Seriously, do want me to have him kick your ass again? I can, you know. All it’ll take is one word.”

“No, please, I …. no. P-please.”

“Then stop calling me ‘honey.’ I don’t love you, Roger. I love him.”

“I … I know.”

“Don’t give me that sad face. How many times do we have to go through this? You heard what Kurt said: If you want to stick around, you’re going to have to change the way you think about things. It’s that simple. I’m not your wife anymore, even though we’re technically still married.”

“I know. But it’s … well, the holidays are coming up, and—”

“And what? Are you trying to lay a guilt trip on me? Am I supposed to feel sorry for you because I’m taking him to the lodge to meet my parents? Maybe you forgot our little talk, Roger. Did you forget what Kurt told you after he kicked your ass? It happened right there where you’re standing. Did you forget already?”

I licked my lips. “No.”

“Did you forget getting on your knees like a little bitch? Begging me not to leave you?”

“N-no.”

“Evidently, you did. We can stay married, Roger, since that’s apparently what you want for some sick, pathetic reason. But what did Kurt tell you?”

“Um, that I’m … I’m not good enough for you.”

“That’s goddamn right. You’re not good enough for me. You’re dogsh-it on my shoe, Roger. All those years before I met him, I kept it buried. But I never loved you. And you knew that. I mean, you’re not stupid; you knew it was your money. Right?”

I nodded, dislodging a tear from the corner of my eye.

Elena pouted. “Aw, now he’s crying.”

“I … I’m sorry,” I sniffled.

“Enough with the drama already. You need to stop this sh-it, Roger. If this is going to work, then like Kurt said, your job is to make me happy so I can concentrate on pleasing him. It’s all about him, and what he wants. I don’t give one sh-it about you — you’re here to make things better. For me and him. And you don’t make things better when you keep acting like we’re still married, Roger. It does the opposite of making things better — it pisses me off. Now, you either start acting like Kurt wants, or let’s just call lawyers and be done with it.”

“No, no, please, I’m sorry, Elena — please!” I played with my shirtsleeve. “I’ll remember not to call you that. Honey, I mean. I … I really am sorry. It was a slip-up.”

After a few seconds, my wife threw up her hands. “Why are you still standing there with a stupid look on your face? Didn’t I tell you to get my mom’s fruitcake off the damn floor?”

“S-sorry,” I muttered yet again as I scooted across the hallway and scooped up the tin. “Uh, should I put it in a bag or something?”

Elena rolled her eyes. “Jeez, you’re useless. Yes, Roger, put it in a bag.”

As I turned to retrieve a brown paper bag from the kitchen, a horn tooted twice from outside.

My wife squealed. “Ooh, he’s here. Go see what he wants.”

I set the fruitcake tin on the foyer table and trudged outside to greet Elena’s asshole boyfriend.

Kurt was halfway up the stairs by the time I opened the front door. He acknowledged me with a sneer and jerked his thumb toward his truck. “Hey, fat boy. Fetch my skis and the other sh-it from the flatbed — and be careful with that suitcase, numb-nuts; Elena’s gift is in there.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied, hating myself for submitting to the smug bastard so humbly. But one of the rules he’d imposed after kicking my ass in my own home was that I call him ‘sir,’ and show him respect at all times. Like a sap, I went along with it. I would’ve agreed to anything to keep Elena in my life, and I kept telling myself that calling her boyfriend ‘sir’ and kissing his ass while he disrespected and insulted me wasn’t the worst thing in the world, as long as I was still married to the woman I adored.

When I got back into the house with Kurt’s gear, he was snogging with my wife in the foyer. He’d been out of town on a construction job, and the lovers hadn’t seen each other in a week. While they made up for lost time by dry-humping in the hallway, I scurried off to retrieve a bag for the fruitcake. 

Elena and Kurt finally came up for air when I got back from the kitchen, and she asked, “You ready to go, honey?” I was flooded with hum-iliation at her use of the very term of endearment that had gotten me yelled at only moments earlier. 

“Nah, I could use a cup of coffee before we hit the road,” he said, nodding at me. “And I was thinking of having numb-nuts here give me one of his foot massages, too, if you don’t mind waiting a few minutes. We busted our asses on that Cleveland job, and my dogs are barking.”

Elena shrugged. “Sure, honey, whatever you want.” She looked at me like I was a bug. “I’ll have a coffee, too.”

I nodded and shuffled to the kitchen. After I served the hot beverages and sank to my knees in front of the sofa with the foot lotion in hand, my wife scowled down at me.

“He keeps calling me ‘honey,'” she tattled to her lover as she melted in his embrace. “I told him you don’t like it.”

Kurt bopped me in the ear with his socked foot, jarring my head sideways and causing me to see stars. “You trying to make a move on my girl, wimp?”

Elena giggled.

I snapped out of the daze. “Uh, no sir, I … I’m sorry, it’s just habit, sir.”

He kicked my head a second time. “Well, you better break that habit if you don’t want to be out on your ass.”

“I told him — we can go get lawyers right now.” Elena sneered at me.

“Nah, that won’t be necessary. Ol’ Rog is gonna be a good little fag. Aren’t you, Rog?”

I averted my eyes. “Y-yes, sir.”

Kurt pushed up the sofa’s footstool, snapped his fingers, and pointed at his foot. I hurried to obey his unspoken command, removing his sock and lathering his foot with lotion while he cuddled with my wife. 

“I can’t wait to give you your gift,” Elena chirped. “I’m not sure whether you’re going to like it, though. I think you will, but … ugh! I’m so scared you won’t.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it, honey,” Kurt replied. “Give me a hint.”

“No.”

“Is it bigger than a breadbox?”

“Maybe.”

“Does it have electronics in it?”

Elena punched her boyfriend’s arm. “I’m not telling you, damn it! Stop asking.”

Kurt smirked at me. “Your wife is a bitch, you know that?”

I replied with a fake half-smile and leaned into my work, vigorously rubbing lotion into the foot of the man who’d stolen my beloved Elena.

Kurt pulled my wife closer. “So, Rog, what did you get me for Christmas?”

“Um, sir, I don’t … I don’t have any money, sir.”

“I know; your wife takes it all. Like I said, she’s a little bitch.” He kissed Elena on top of her head before turning back to me. “But that’s still no excuse for not getting me a gift. I’m the one who let you stick around when you begged Elena not to divorce you. And this is how you repay me?”

“I … I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t …” I bit my lip and continued massaging my interrogator’s foot. “You’re right, sir. I should’ve made you a gift. I’m so sorry.”

Elena glared at me. “Did you make me a gift? You better had.”

“Um, y-yes, I did.”

“Where is it?”

“In my gym bag.”

“Go get it.”

Wiping my hands on my pantlegs, I hurried to retrieve the wood plaque I’d spent hours carving and shellacking.

Elena smirked when she saw the inscription, and read it aloud in a mocking tone: “‘May you always find happiness.’ Aw. Isn’t that sweet? You know what makes me happy, Roger?” She turned and tongue-kissed her lover for a good 10 seconds before pulling away and leering at me. “This man makes me happy, you pathetic fucking loser. A real man.” She tossed the plaque to the carpet. “Now, go throw that stupid sh-it in the garbage.”

Kurt cracked up. “Damn, girl, you’re cold,” he said before snapping his fingers at me. “Do what the little lady says, and then get back on these feet.”

I don’t know how I was able to toss my gift in the trash can without falling into convulsions, but in less than a minute I was back on my knees in front of Elena’s boyfriend, dry-eyed and rubbing lotion into his foot. 

“So, Roger, we need to address your lack of gratitude.” Kurt wiggled his toes. “After Elena and me decided to take things to the next step in our relationship, who begged me to let you stay married to her?”

“Uh, I did, sir.”

“Exactly. You did. And this is how you repay me? You thought to make your wife a Christmas present, but not me?” He pulled his foot from my hand and kicked me in the head again. “That’s pretty damned inconsiderate if you ask me.”

“I’m so sorry, sir.”

Kurt snorted. “I don’t believe you. Are you really sorry?”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Then do you want to make it up to me?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Great. Soooo, I’ve been thinking.” Kurt leaned back and stroked his chin. “Remember when you got down on your knees and said you’d do literally anything I wanted, as long as I didn’t make Elena divorce you?”

I had a sinking feeling in my stomach as I answered in the affirmative.

“Well, then,” Kurt drawled. “How about you give me something special for Christmas? Something that’ll really show your gratitude?”

“Um … what, sir?”

“Your balls.”

Blo-od drained from my face.

Elena hooted. “You mean have him castrated?”

“Fuck yes, have him castrated. I told you — I don’t like sharing you with another man, even if it is a fat fag like him. It’s why I made him move his sh-it to the garage; I don’t want some other guy being your roommate, especially your husband. I know you don’t love him — that’s not a problem. But it would make me feel a lot better if he was a eunuch.”

My wife smiled. “Well, if it would make you feel better, honey, then let’s have it done.”

I somehow managed to croak, “I … but … please don’t do that to me.”

“Oh, stop your whining.” Elena scoffed. “People lose their testicles all the time. It’s not like you need ’em anyway.”

Kurt smirked and squeezed my wife’s tit through her shirt. “Yeah, Rog, don’t worry — I got that department well taken care of. Now, how about you get me a quick warmup on this coffee, and then do this other foot, so the ol’ girl and me can hit the road? We got a long drive ahead of us.”

“Ooh, I can’t wait for Mom and Dad to meet you,” Elena squealed to her boyfriend as I trudged toward the kitchen.

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Small change

Dinner was great, one of those Turkish/Greek restaurants in the town, plenty of wine and fizz and a taxi home.
I made all the right moves to get a fuck that night with Sally but my equipment failed me as it usually did. Sally got very bored with my efforts and told me to lick her to orgasm instead. I dutifully slid down the bed until I was kneeling on the floor and squashed my face into her pussy. She always kept it neatly trimmed and in the 8 years we’d been married, it had been my pleasure to fuck. Tonight, she grabbed my hair and pulled me closer in until I was almost gagging. Sally has a great body for a 39 yr old, 36c breasts and short blonde hair.
You’re going to stay there until I cum, Understand?
I nodded as I couldn’t speak.
Sally threw her head back and enjoyed me tonguing her for several minutes.
Come on, get that tongue all the way in, I think it’s about the same size as your dick, she laughed. She’d never said things like that before. She propped herself up and stared into my eyes as I continued my work, Well it’s true, isn’t it ? You have a small dick Tim, very small…
I said nothing, just lapped at her pussy in an effort to please. She lifted my head off her pussy with one hand, Well ? Say it ?
I didn’t want to say anything…….. Tell me you have a small dick……And because I paused again, she slapped me with her other hand. SAY IT ! she yelled..
I mumbled down into the duvet that I had a small dick, but that wasn’t good enough. 
Louder, she yelled.
I have a small dick,
Again !
I have a small dick.
You have a small dick what ?
Sally ?
Nope try again, small dick, you call me Miss….
I have a small dick Miss, I stuttered.
Good, finally you are learning. And what do small dicked men do ?
I guessed, Lick pussy Miss ?
Yep, that’s right, and anything else I say, Got it ??
I mumbled Yes Miss, but it wasn’t loud enough, Pardon ???? Yes Miss, I said louder.
Now, back on my pussy and as I said, make me cum, since your dick can’t do it. I felt my little cock shrinking away at her comments. She grabbed my hair again and pulled me in and I resumed my duties with more enthusiasm than normal to please her. I’d always known I had a small dick, from school days in the shower, in the military and comparisons on the internet, I guess I’d just got away with it and that Sally was ok with it. Well, up until now anyway.
She lent over at some stage and grabbed her phone, happily snapping shots of me working on her pussy. Come on pussy licker, make me come, make that pussy happy, She was obviously making a short video. After ten or so minutes I had made her cum, she was still taking photos, but said, OK little dick stand up and tell me what you do……
I struggled up off the floor, my knees were killing me from kneeling for 30 minutes, but stood up and said, I suck pussy Miss, Sally said, and why is that ? Because I have a small dick Miss, I mumbled. Louder !!!. She was videoing the whole thing, Because I have a small dick Miss. I hung my head in shame.
Well done pussy licker, she said, and stopped filming.
Now you can ***** in the spare room tonight, since you couldn’t fuck me, yet again…..
I couldn’t argue with that, so I shuffled off to the spare room and its single bed….
The morning came and last night nights activities had been a blur, so I presumed she had been a bit tipsy and it all got out of hand. How wrong I was.
Sally met me in the kitchen with an offish glance, How was the spare room Tim ? she chuckled.
I sad nothing and boiled the kettle for a cup of tea.
I’ve decided she started. My heart sank, What now ?
I’ve decided that since you can’t please me with you little dick, that you shouldn’t have the privileges of the man of the house, I meant what I said that you will do anything else I want, you even agreed last night. I couldn’t disagree.
So, today marks the first day of you being a house husband, no chores for me, so I can keep you busy and me happy. Also, you need to understand that you won’t be *****ing with me in future, the spare room is now your room, you can only come in my room when I want you to. Got it ??
I nodded in disbelief. 
So, my little wifey, it’s time to start…. First, since I don’t consider you to be a red ******* man who can fuck properly, you need to dress accordingly, so fetch some scissors and follow me.
I got the scissors and followed he up to what was now her room. Open the drawer she said pointing at my underwear drawer. Take out all of your boxers and cut them up. I started to protest about a waste of money, but she was having none of it. She made me stand there and cut the m all in two until none were useable. Take the ones off you are wearing now small dick, she commanded, so soon I was naked from the waist down with out any boxers to put on. She smirked at my small dick, and said it was disgusting to her now, but she had plans for my dick which I wouldn’t like. You need some appropriate underwear Tim don’t you think? What would you expect me to wear around the house ??

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First Step Tomorrow

What a journey leading up to this point. A years worth of bringing fantasies into the bedroom slowly getting more and more Hotwife oriented. 


Many years ago we ended up on a naturist beach and had some mild fun but the sheer excitement at having my wife completely naked and getting strange men looking at her has stuck with me. The fantasies started with me openly licking her pussy in public and then fucking her while groups of guys gathered around to watch. I would play up how hot she was and how they were wanking over her. Would she like to touch them and maybe suck them off. What did she think of playing with a strangers cock. Would she swallow his cum (she always swallows). At first she would be all coy and respond with “I don’t know” but with building in more and more scenarios she now completely onboard with letting strangers take turns mounting her and using her pussy as they want. 


We had an open and honest conversation a few weeks back about maybe visiting a naturist Spa (has a swingers area and closed off rooms as well) and she jumped at the chance. The last 2 weeks have been a whirlwind of hot encounters talking about what’s allowed and what’s not. She booked the hotel and is now fully onboard with trying something new and letting other men fuck her As long as I’m close. I have been edging her for a week now and the sheer frustration and *********** desire is like nothing I’ve ever seen in her. Her pussy is constantly wet and all we do is talk about it. She knows I have a deep seated desire to watch her get fucked with wanton abandon and have the chance to cleanup afterwards. Sadly it’s too risky as she is not on any contraception + the risk of an STI etc.

She went and had a full pussy wax and bought a pack of 12 condoms today which I found insanely erotic. My wife has bought condoms so other men can fuck her. It’s still sinking in and surreal. My cock has been aching for days now and dribbling precum. I’m starting to get anxious and jealous and so turned on. Have I opened Pandora’s box? What should I expect when I’m standing there watching men use my wife as nothing more than a cock hole.

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