My Cuckquean Wife Wants Me to Sleep With Her Bully in Reverse World

The parking lot asphalt radiates heat through my shoes as I wave goodbye to April, watching her ancient Honda sputter to life. My mind's still tangled in our conversation, in all the what-ifs she so casually tossed onto the table like grenade pins. I dig through my pocket for my car keys, grateful for the moment alone to sort through my thoughts.

Then a hand presses against my chest, gentle but firm, pushing me backward until I'm pinned against my car door. The touch is familiar in a way that makes my pulse spike instantly.

"Tara?" Her name escapes my lips before I've fully processed her sudden appearance, standing before me in workout clothes that hug every curve of her athletic frame. Those red eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that makes my mouth go dry.

"Hey," she says casually, as if ambushing me in a diner parking lot is the most natural thing in the world. Her palm remains flat against my sternum, not threatening but definitely possessive.

My brain finally catches up to the situation. I glance around the nearly empty lot, then back to her face. "Were you following me?"

A smile spreads across her lips, not apologetic in the slightest. "Yeah."

The simple admission hangs between us. I should be alarmed, should push her hand away and demand an explanation. Instead, I find myself noticing how the midday sun catches in her black hair, how the slight sheen of sweat on her collarbone makes her skin glow.

"That's..." I struggle to find the right word, "concerning."

Tara laughs, the sound both musical and predatory. "Is it? I think it's romantic."

Her hand slides up from my chest to cup my jaw, thumb brushing over my bottom lip in a gesture so intimate it makes my breath catch. The parking lot suddenly feels too exposed and not private enough all at once.

"Why are you following me?" I ask, pulse quickening under her touch. The warmth of her hand against my jaw is disorienting.

"I wanted another taste," Tara says, her voice dropping to that silky register that used to make my knees weak. "The other night was just an appetizer. I've been thinking about you ever since."

Heat rushes to my face, and I hate that my body still responds to her this way, like some Pavlovian reaction she programmed years ago. "That's not up to me, Tara. You need to talk to Sabrina if you want that to happen again."

She steps closer, her body nearly flush against mine now.

"Sabrina's at work," she whispers, her lips barely an inch from my ear. "Why don't we go to a motel? Have a proper affair. Just you and me, no third wheel."

Something snaps inside me. The suggestion that I would betray Sabrina, after everything she's done for me, after everything we've built together, ignites a spark of anger that cuts through my confusion. I place my hands on Tara's shoulders and firmly push her back, creating space between us.

"I would never cheat on my wife, Tara," I say, my voice level despite the storm brewing inside me. "What happened the other night was something Sabrina wanted, something she orchestrated. I'm not going behind her back."

Tara's expression darkens, annoyance flashing across her features. She crosses her arms, those red eyes narrowing as she studies me.

"Come on, Leo," she says with a dismissive laugh. "I bet your wife would love you even more if you did. Nothing gets a cuck hotter than being betrayed."

The casual cruelty in her voice, the way she reduces Sabrina to a kink rather than a person, makes my blood boil.

"Give it a fucking rest," I snap, my composure finally cracking. "Sabrina likes to be cucked while it's within her control. That's the whole point."

Tara sighs, her stance softening slightly. She pulls her phone from her pocket, glancing at the screen before holding it to her ear.

"Alright, yeah, you were right," she says to whoever's on the other end. "I guess I owe you a hundred bucks."

I watch her with growing confusion as her expression shifts from confident to annoyed.

"Yeah, fucking fine," she grumbles, rolling her eyes. "I'll put him on."

She extends the phone toward me. "It's your wife."

"What?" I stare at the device like it might bite me, my brain struggling to process what's happening. Cautiously, I take it from her hand. "Sabrina?"

"Yes, it's me," comes my wife's familiar voice, tinged with amusement.

"What's happening right now?" My eyes dart between the phone and Tara, who's leaning against my car with a sullen expression.

"Well," Sabrina says, her tone casual as if discussing dinner plans, "Tara called me earlier wondering if I'd let you two play while I was at work. I thought it might be fun if you're okay with that."

I exhale slowly, a heaviness settling in my chest. Something about this situation feels wrong, like we're crossing a boundary I didn't know was there. Sabrina seems to be escalating in a direction that makes me uneasy, but I keep that thought to myself.

"You want me to go to a motel with Tara?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Only if you're okay with it," Sabrina replies, her tone softening. "No pressure, Leo. This is completely your choice."

I run my hand through my hair, feeling trapped between the two women who seem determined to reshape my life according to their desires. The asphalt beneath my feet radiates heat, making me feel like I'm literally standing on unstable ground.

"I don't know, Sabrina," I say finally. "This feels different from before. You won't be there to... to watch. To be part of it."

"I know," she says, her voice dropping to that husky register that tells me she's aroused by the mere thought. "That's what makes it exciting. Knowing you're with her and I can only imagine what's happening."

Tara watches me intently, those red eyes tracking every microexpression on my face. There's something powerful in her gaze that makes my stomach twist.

I exhale deeply, feeling the familiar weight of inevitability settle over me. Who am I kidding? When it comes to Sabrina, I've never been good at saying no.

"Fine," I concede, my voice soft with resignation. "I'll do it."

"Are you sure?" Sabrina asks, her tone gentle but tinged with excitement. "Since I won't be there, I won't know if you follow all our rules..."

The implication hangs in the air, making my heart race. "Would that make it better for you?" I ask, suddenly understanding what she's suggesting. "If I broke the rules?"

She's quiet for a moment, her breathing audible through the phone. "I don't know, Leo. But whatever you choose... I promise I won't be upset about it."

It seems like my wife is all but begging me to hit it raw?

"Alrighty then. I should go."

"I love you," she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice.

"I love you too. Goodbye." I end the call and hand the phone back to Tara, who's watching me with barely concealed triumph.

"Do you know of any good motels around?" I ask, already feeling like I'm stepping off a cliff.

Tara doesn't answer, just points across the street to a place called the Sunset Inn, its faded sign promising hourly rates and free HBO. Of course there's a motel right here, the universe has a sick sense of humor sometimes.

"Come on," she says, taking my hand like we're teenagers sneaking away from prom. "My treat."