Devin Dickie

Valentine Romance

Added 2017-01-05 07:26:43 +0000 UTC

VALENTINE ROMANCE by Throne

My wife Valerie had put me into a special outfit for Valentines Day. I
had on a pink tank top, short red skirt with pleats, white stockings
with hearts all over them, and black Maryjane shoes. My panties were
plain cotton ones, colored aqua, and somehow more demeaning that the
fancier bikini-cut type I was ususally put into. She had done my make-
up herself, saying she wanted it to be perfect. There was pink eye
shadow, along with big circles of dark rouge on my cheeks, and a
lipstick called Black Cherry which, combined with lip liner, gave me a
perfect Cupid's bow mouth. She even found a lacy white choker with a
red heart in the middle. I felt absolutely ridiculous and knew her
lover, Jamal, would have a good laugh at my expense.

"And I have one more surprise for you, my little Cupid," she said,
crooking her finger to indicate that I should follow her.

As we went toward the bedroom I couldn't take my eyes off her well-
formed bottom and long legs, shown off by the tight slacks she was
wearing. At the door she stepped aside and gestured for me to enter,
which gave me a great view of her small but shapely boobs under a thin
sweater and unconfined by a bra. I was practically salivating at how
sexy she looked. Not that I could do anything about it, with my penis
locked away in a small chastity tube, plastic with wraparound stripes
in rainbow colors.

The instant I entered the room my eyes were drawn to the dresser, where
a manniquin head stood, and on it a short wig of tight yellow curls.
She was going to make me look even more like Cupid and less like a man.
Rather than risk angering her by hesitating or objecting, I lifted the
golden adornment and placed it over my own hair, which she allowed me
to keep short for my boring office job. I snugged it into place and
stole a peek at myself in the mirror. I looked like a complete sissy.

"How sweet, Cupid. Now flit to the kitchen and make sure there's a
bottle of good wine chilled. I hope you didn't buy the cheap stuff
this time. Remember how Jamal got mad when you did that, and had to
put you over his lap for a sound spanking?"

Of course I remembered. Who could forget a painful humiliation like
that? He was slender but muscular, and had swatted my bare ass hard
enough to make me cry. I'm sure he intended for my wife to see me
shedding tears. He loved to do anything that demeaned me and lowered
her opinion of me. Besides, I could tell that he enjoyed it himself.
So I nodded to Valerie and told her meekly that I hadn't forgotten, and
then I hurried away to make sure that everything was in readiness for
Jamal's arrival... and for what would follow.

He got there ten minutes later. I was in the living room straightening
the pillows on the sofa and making sure Jamal's hassock was just where
he liked it to be when he put his feet up on it. Valerie whisked
through the room and I noticed that she had added several pieces of
flashy jewelry, including big hoop earrings with hearts in their
middles. She opened the door and Jamal stepped inside, tilting his
head down to give her a warm kiss. I was more used to him grabbing her
and sticking his tongue between her lips while he kneaded her bottom
with his dark hands.

They went to the sofa and sat close together. I had left the room in
case they wanted some time alone. But my wife called for me and,
taking a steadying breath, I minced back in, hating that I had to act
so girly. I curtsied before them and asked in a whispery voice if
they'd like some wine. They would, of course, but first Jamal wanted
me to adjust the hassock. I knew it was where it should be but didn't
point that out. He had me squatting down, struggling to move it around
while I was in that impractical posture, eventually telling me that I
had finally gotten it right. All I had done was to relocate it several
times and then put it back where it had started. He enjoyed inflicting
minor indignities like that on me, if only to prove that I would humbly
obey.

Next I got their wine, filling the glasses to the correct level and
holding them delicately by their stems as I wiggle-walked back to
deliver them. The two of them were gazing into each others' eyes as
they accepted the drinks, barely registering my presence. I discretely
moved away, standing out of their line of sight, waiting for further
orders. They murmured softly to each other between sips. Jamal said
something I couldn't hear and they both smiled before lightly clinking
their glasses together. By then he should have had his hands on her
desirable tits and she should have been pawing his crotch, offering to
suck his big cock.

But instead they just sat there and occasionally spoke. I heard enough
to know that they were giving each other compliments and saying how
much they liked each others' company. What was going on? I was
getting worried but then they moved back into familiar habits as she
asked him if he'd like to go to the bedroom. I mean, I was more used
to them having each other partly undressed by then, with her doing
something to his cock, using her hands and maybe her mouth. So it was
odd to see him slowly rise, offer her his hand, and gently assist her
to her feet.

Valerie asked me to bring their drinks. I followed wordlessly. Once
in the bedroom she began to unbutton his shirt. He helped her off with
her sweater and lightly kissed each of her nipples while she stroked
his hard shoulders. They embraced and he nuzzled her neck, in no hurry
to get to the main act. Soon they had each other undressed and had
slipped beneath the covers, instead of just humping like a couple of
crazed animals on top of the blankets. My bride had me move to the
foot of the bed and strike a few silly poses, sticking out my butt,
rubbing my chastity tube, and pretending to pull back a bow string and
shoot an arrow.

Jamal said to her, "Your wimpy husband makes a real good fairy."

"He's Cupid," she clarified.

"I know, baby. He's got that cherub rear end and soft body. It's like
you called central casting and said they should send a Cupid type."

She laughed at his little joke. They eyed me up and down for a minute,
appreciating just how much of a wussy I was and how far she had gone
with making me represent the holiday. I could see that they were
excited by my mortification, the same way as always, but not to the
same degree. They were too busy holding hands and making air kisses at
each other. It was difficult to believe that was the same Valerie who
liked to make me crawl around on hands and knees, and the same Jamal
who had once made me duck walk around the house with my arms bent
double, flapping them like wings, while I made silly approximations of
bird sounds ("Chirp! Tweet!").

Before I could think further about it, my bride said, "All right,
swishy Cupid. Out into the hall with you."

"Yeah," Jamal added. "Close the door most of the way and kneel down.
Put your nose on the carpet and stay that way."

"Right," Valerie finished. "You can't be in here while we're doing
grown-up stuff."

They weren't going to make me watch? That was a first. Both of them
usually delighted in forcing me to witness their animated rutting.
Instead, I was being sent away like a child. I backed up to the door,
remembered my training and gave another curtsey, and let myself out.
Carefully, I closed the door until it was nearly shut. Even though
they couldn't see me, I obediently got onto my knees, got my nose
against the rug -- glad for a change that I had to frequently use the
carpet sweeper there -- and stayed that way.

Soon I could hear their foreplay, though it was more restrained that
usual. There were even moments of stillness when I heard only their
hushed voices. Eventually the sounds of sex commenced, though this
time they weren't accompanied by grunting and panting and loud
lascivious talk. It did have its normal duration, close to an hour, as
nearly as I could estmate without being able to glance at the bedside
clock. She had one hearty orgasm partway through and for their finale
they finished together. There was a period of silence, followed by
softly spoken endearments. I was beginning to understand why this
night was so different.

"Cupid," my wife said, "please bring the bottle and pour us more wine."

"I hope you left it in the fridge," Jamal told me. "If it got warm I
might have to punish your sissy ass." He said it lazily, without the
familiar authority or threat.

When I tapped lightly on the door and was given permission to enter, I
saw them cuddling. That was when my worst fear was confirmed. They
were no longer just sex partners. Valerie and Jamal, my wife and the
man who had made me a cuckold, were being romantic. And I got the sick
feeling that they would remain that way for a long time. I poured
their wine and stepped delicately away from them, cradling the bottle
against my chest.

"That will be all for now," said my wife.

"You heard her," Jamal amplified with a bit more of his former snap.
"Make yourself scarce, fruity Cupid. In fact, go and... I don't
know... clean the bathroom. The guest bathroom at the other end of the
house. We need some privacy."

"Exactly," echoed Valerie. "To make plans."

As I backed up, curtsied, and went away, I felt anxious. This was
something I hadn't anticipated. My wife and the man who had been
bedding her might be falling in love. At least their timing was good.
After all, it WAS Valentines Day.