When your builder husband suggests you tease the fat IT geek fixing his laptop, you don’t tell him you’ve been sexting that same geek for three months. Or that by Monday morning, the geek will own you both.

I’m Jake Thompson. I run a building firm in Kentish Town, fifteen lads on the books, decent money, fit from the gym and the sites. Married to Ella, thirty-four G tits, arse you could bounce a coin off, the lads are jealous as fuck. I thought I had it sorted. I thought I was the man of the house. I was wrong.

Friday night my laptop crashed. Six-figure contract on the line, files gone, blue screen of death. I called Craig, my IT bloke. Fat, pale, pot-bellied, the office joke. I’ve taken the mick out of him for two years. He’s always been the soft lad who fixes servers and drives out to site when I click my fingers. I told him to come round, promised him a beer, and then I had an idea. A stupid, brilliant, fucked-up idea.

I told Ella to put on her tightest yoga pants. No knickers. Camel toe on full display. White crop top, no bra, nipples showing through. I wanted Craig to see what he’d never have. I wanted to watch him squirm while my wife bent over in front of him and his cock got hard in his cheap trousers. It was banter. Just banter. That’s what I told myself while my own cock started leaking before he’d even knocked on the door.

Except the laptop didn’t just restore my files. It pulled back everything. Six months of downloaded porn. Cuckold videos. Hotwife gangbangs. Husbands watching their wives get wrecked by bigger, better men. Husbands licking cum out of their wives’ holes after the bulls had finished. Forced bi videos. Cleanup duty. Every filthy fantasy I’d been wanking to at two in the morning, right there on the screen in my living room, while Ella read the titles aloud and Craig sat on my sofa with a glass of wine, watching my face burn.

Then Ella told me the truth. She’d been texting Craig for three months. Since the day I sent her to the site with some paperwork and she met him under a desk, fixing another fucked computer. They’d swapped numbers. Then photos. Then videos. Craig’s cock is nine and a half inches. Thick as my wrist. Balls like fucking eggs. And Ella had been getting off to his tribute videos every night while I watched Match of the Day downstairs, clueless.

She also told me about Steve. Her personal trainer. The one she’s been fucking twice a week in the gym equipment cupboard for six months. The one who finishes inside her before she comes home and sits down to dinner with me, still full of his cum, smiling like butter wouldn’t melt. I didn’t know. I had no fucking idea. And my cock was rock hard hearing it.

Craig fucked her on our living room rug. Right there, two feet from where I was kneeling, watching his thick cock stretch her cunt wider than I ever had, listening to her moan in a way she’d never moaned for me. Then he pulled out, shoved his cock in my mouth, and told me to get him hard for round two. And I did it. I tasted my wife on another man’s cock, I sucked him until he was granite again, and then I watched him bend her over and fuck her so hard the room smelled of sweat and cum and my own shame.

Saturday he took her arse. In our bed. I was on the landing, listening to her beg for it, listening to the headboard slam against the wall for hours. Seven times. Craig came seven times that weekend. In her cunt, in her arse, on her face, down her throat. And every time, I was there. Holding her legs open. Sucking his cock to get him hard again. Licking his loads out of her holes while she called me a good boy and stroked my hair.

By Sunday I wasn’t Jake the builder anymore. I was the bloke who cooked their breakfast, brought them tea in bed, and cleaned the cum off the kitchen floor after Craig bent Ella over the table and filled her one last time. Monday morning I drove him to site, introduced him to the lads as the hero who’d saved my contract, and watched him leave in my shirt while my phone buzzed with photos of Ella, still in our bed, legs spread, showing me what Craig left behind.

This is the story of the weekend I lost control of my marriage and discovered I never wanted it in the first place. Craig’s coming back Friday. And I can’t fucking wait.

“Cuckold Tales” book 19 – another stand-alone short novella full of explicit, dark cuckold erotica, by #1 best-selling erotica author, Chris P Rider.

Pre-order now – released 23rd Oct 2026 on Amazon eBook, and free to read on Kindle Unlimited.  UK AMAZON | USA AMAZON | CANADA AMAZON | AUSTRALIA AMAZON

Trigger Warnings

Content Advisory: This book contains adult themes that some readers may find intense, including:

• Explicit sexual content throughout
• Marital infidelity and extramarital relationships
• Consensual cuckolding and humiliation themes
• Male bisexual content (oral, non-reciprocal)
• Anal content and explicit body fluid descriptions
• Power exchange and dominance dynamics
• Psychological and verbal humiliation

Intended for mature audiences (18+) only. All characters are consenting adults.