NOTE: This is the first of many parts in what is intended to be a slow-burn and hopefully semi-realistic story. If you have any suggestions, feel free to leave a comment. And if you have actual experience with cuckolding and you’d like to point out anything glaringly unrealistic, or make suggestions about how to move the plot along more compellingly, I’m all ears!
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Jeff was no slouch in bed. He knew how to use his hips, and he was great with his tongue, and besides that he just knew all the spots Sarah wanted to be kissed and nibbled and touched. Ten years of marriage had taught him what she was going to want before she wanted it, and if the sex was ever routine, it definitely never lacked chemistry. In short, Jeff always performed. And Sarah bragged about this to her friends.
Jeff knew, rationally, that he had no reason to be insecure. Sure his dick wasn’t huge, but it wasn’t small either, and with Sarah’s knees to her chest he could usually bottom out anyway. He didn’t last ridiculously long, but he lasted a solid 20 or 30 minutes if he paced himself, and by the end of that Sarah had always had her fill. The simple truth was that they had a good sex life. Sarah was satisfied.