The Cottage

  Ben Boswell

  The Cottage Copyright © 2014 by Ben Boswell

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Cover image © Getty/iStockPhoto used under license

  First digital edition electronically published by Ben Boswell Publishing, October 2014

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without explicit written permission of the copyright holder.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events, or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Preface

  In addition to longer form fiction, I have over the years written a large number of shorts. I will be periodically revising and publishing the best of them over the next year or so. Most of these stories, and this one in particular, are a straight-forward slut wife/cuckold stories. This one has a bit of humor in it. And I don’t think anyone into this particular topic will be disappointed by the sex. But that said, there is not a ton of plot or character development. There is a set-up and some sex. It is, in short, a short.

  As always, I welcome feedback at ben.boswell.author@gmail.com.

  A Lake Cottage

  I've been going up to the cottage on Fox Tail Lake since I was a kid. It has three rooms: A decent-sized living room/dining area/kitchen with a fire place, and two bedrooms, one with a snug full-size bed for the parents, and the other with a pair of bunk beds for the kids. There is a small wooden deck overlooking the lake, and a barbeque pit that probably dates from the 1930s. The lake itself is small, maybe two miles around, with about fifty houses scattered around the shoreline. There is a small beach a few hundred yards away, and we have a rickety dock that we use to launch canoes or a small skiff we use for fishing. A hundred yards out in the water there is a swimming platform, and I can still remember how excited I was to swim all the way out there by myself when I was about ten.

  In college, it was a great little party house. My buddies and I would pack up the car with beer and spend a couple of days fishing, shooting at squirrels, and horsing around. One time, my college roommate Dave and I even brought a couple of girls up, which was fun for about a day before the girls started fighting with each other and forced us to cut our trip short.

  I get up there less now. I'm married and Becky and I always seem to be busy. Also, I only have two weeks vacation per year, and we’re now in wedding territory with all our friends. Recently it seems like most of my days off involve me wearing a suit and eating rubbery chicken at a reception somewhere or other.

  Anyway, my parents are getting older, and they started talking about selling the place, so I decided to plan a last visit. Becky signed on after I convinced her that it would just be a relaxing weekend of hanging out, sunbathing, and grilling out. Dave really wanted to come as well, but he had been planning a hunting trip with one of his friends, Robby, for that weekend. Davey convinced him to come up to the lake and fish instead. I also invited another childhood friend, Tomas, to come join us with his wife. I hadn't really seen Tomas in years, but we'd spent a bunch of time talking and hanging out recently at our tenth high school reunion, and it piqued my sense of nostalgia. I figured the girls could take the master bedroom, and the guys would take the bunks. But it didn’t matter because his wife got called away on business at the last minute and had to cancel, leaving Tomas flying solo.

  We picked a weekend in late July to get away, one of the few of our calendar without any pre-existing commitments. We decided to do an old-fashioned, college-style, road trip, so the guys came to my house Thursday afternoon. We packed the SUV full of beer, food, supplies, and more beer and hit the road for a long weekend.

  The first night we got there, we fired up the grill, seared a bunch of steaks, burned some corn and cracked open first one, then a second, and then a third case of beer, though we didn't make too much of a dent in that one.

  Becky crashed early, but I didn't even really notice because we were all joking around, having a good time. Tomas was as fun as I'd remembered him, a goofy guy with an irrepressible sense of humor and a penchant for practical jokes. Davey was full of stories. He'd done a tour in the military after college, and ended up in Afghanistan for a time, but his military stories mostly involved strippers and latrines. Robby seemed like an okay guy....Well, not really. He was a tool, the kind of guy who always has to have the last word, always wants to top any story. Dave had met him in the military, but Robby was now a lawyer, and according to him was pulling down "serious coin" and "top-shelf pussy." At first, I thought he was just kidding around. He was just such a stereotype douche, but no, it turned out he was a genuine prick. Whatever, I figured, it was just for a weekend, and Davey at least didn't seem to take him seriously, so why should I? And anyway, I had to admit, his raucous and raunchy tales were fun to listen to.

  I went to bed late and pretty bombed, and tried to cuddle up with Becky. I can't help myself. Even after being together for seven years, she still gives me a chubby when she comes out of the shower with just a towel on. She's got a hard bubble butt, a nice flat stomach, and a perfect set of 35C tits. She's got a cute face with a little button nose, full lips, big blue eyes all framed with a chin-length bob of light-brown hair. Anyway, I slid over, spooned her, and let my hand drift up under the shirt to cup her lovely mounds.

  When she's not in the mood, she'll usually just grab my hands and hold them, and let me fall asleep snuggling her. But now, she squirmed out of my grasp and pushed me away.

  "What's the matter?" I asked.

  "You're drunk," she hissed. "You're slurring. And you've been keeping me up by screaming with your buddies, telling filthy stories for the past three hours. If you wanted anything, you should have been in bed with me a long time ago. Now, leave me alone, and let me sleep!"

  I rolled over in a huff, only to be woken by an elbow in the back a few minutes later.

  "You're snoring. Go sleep out on the sofa!" She snapped, literally kicking me out of the bed.

  I grabbed a blanket and went out in the living room. It was a lousy end to the day, but I was too drunk to reflect on it too much. Instead, I promptly passed out.

  Hungover

  Robby woke me up the next morning by stomping around in the kitchen. I looked over to see him cracking open a breakfast beer. When he saw me looking at him, he grinned.

  "Had a fight with the old lady?"

  "Something like that," I muttered through my hangover.

  "What's the matter? Whiskey dick? A thoroughbred like that needs to be run around the track. Otherwise, they get moody."

  "That's my wife you're talking about," I replied in a huff.

  "Don't I know it? If she was my woman, I'd have followed her to bed and taken care of business instead of sitting around with me and Davey. And I'd be sleeping in a comfy bed with some stank on my crank, instead of out on a lumpy sofa."

  "Maybe you should mind your own business."

  He laughed and threw his empty beer can at me. "Lighten up Francis, I'm just busting your chops." He grabbed a second beer from the fridge. "Want one?"

  I guess I should note my name isn't Francis, it's Rich.

  Dave and Tomas got up a little while later. Tomas, at least, was looking about as hung over as me, but Davey joined Robby in some morning beers. After a short while, Tomas shrugged and decided to try the “hair of the dog” remedy himself.

  Becky got up last, and came out wearing clingy yoga pants and a tank top. Even freshly risen with a bad case of bed head, she was a sight, and I noticed all of the guys checking her out. She noticed the beers, sighed, and disappeared into the bathroom. This was not going well. This was not her idea of a relaxing weekend.

  Revelations

  Happily, the rest of the morning passed without incident. I went on a hike with Becky, and she seemed grateful to be out of the house, and away from what she called my "frat boy buddies." When we got back, we found the guys had put together a nice lunch, including some fresh grilled trout Dave and Robby had managed to pull from the lake. Tomas had broken out the tequila and margarita mix and made a big pitcher. It was a gorgeous day, and after a couple of drinks, we were all having a good time. Even Becky seemed to be amused rather than annoyed by our guests.

  At one point, I said wistfully, "Damn, I'm really gonna miss this place."

  Robby piped in, "Why don't you just buy it from your folks? We're in the middle of fucking nowhere, and it’s all of 500 square feet. It can't be worth more than 25gs. Shit, I drop more than that on hookers and blow on a weekend in Vegas."

  "It's more like 50," I replied. "And that's a lot of scratch. Beck and I are saving for a house and we still have student loans..." I trailed off as Robby snorted at my apparent poverty.

  Becky stepped into the silence. "You pay for sex?" she asked, surprised.

  Robby leaned forward and lowered his sunglasses. "Sometimes."

  "Why? Can't you --"

  He cut her off. "I get more tail than you can imagine. But there are some things it is easier to get if you pay for it."

  "Like what?"

  He gave her a leer, and then looked around at Tomas and Dave grinning. I felt a lump in my throat. Having listened to Robby and Dave's stories, I knew this was about to go south in a hurry.

  "Um, maybe we don't need to get into that," I suggested.

  "Oh, come on," Becky objected. "I'm a big girl."

  "Yes, yes you are," Robby replied

, overtly staring at her boobs.

  She giggled and slapped him softly. "Stop that. You're so silly. Come on, out with it, what do you pay girls to do?"

  He laughed and then shrugged. "The usual. Threesomes. Butt sex. Lesbo stuff. Snorting blow off their asses. Plus most girls don't let you pull a train on 'em or bukkake their faces."

  "Bukkake?" she asked, innocently.

  "Yeah, you know, when a bunch of guys take turns spooging on a girl's face."

  She scrunched up her face. "Oh yuck. You really like that? Seeing a girl get gangbanged and then covered in goo? That's sick." She turned to Dave, "Do you like seeing that?"

  "Well, I have to admit, Beck, it is pretty hot."

  She turned to Tomas. "You?"

  "Well, I've only ever seen it in movies, but yeah there is something about seeing a girl all slutted out that is a turn on, even if you know it’s just acting or paid for I guess."

  She turned to me.

  "No, no way. I think it is disgusting and demeaning," I said earnestly. Maybe too earnestly because Robby and Dave started laughing right away, and Tomas and Becky then joined in.

  I meant it actually. I'm an old-fashioned guy in that way, and even when I watch porn I'd just as soon see a hot girl riding a guy rather than anything extreme.

  "You guys are sick," Becky said finally, but with a smile. She drained her margarita. "Well, you boys clean up, I'm gonna catch some rays." She got up and left.

  We were still clearing dishes when Becky emerged from the bedroom in a skimpy, neon blue, bikini, with a beach towel in one hand and a book in the other. I watched uncomfortably as three sets of eyes devoured her as she crossed the room. When the door closed behind her, Robby let out a low whistle.

  "Daaaammmmn," he sighed.

  "Hey, take it easy Rob," Dave suggested, seeing the mortified look on my face.

  Robby shook his head. "I know, I know. The forbidden fruit. But she is all woman, ain't she?"

  I let it go. Robby was easier to take with a few drinks in me than otherwise.

  The Bet

  After lunch Tomas and I decided to go for a swim, and Dave and Robby got back in the skiff to try their hand at fishing for dinner. Tomas and I ended up out on the old swim platform, and the other guys soon joined us after deciding the fish weren't biting. They had packed a cooler full of beer, and we sat out there, enjoying the breeze.

  Tomas had made another pitcher of margaritas back at the house, and every once in a while we'd see Becky get up to get a refill. And everytime, Robby would look up and whistle.

  "So how did you meet her?" he asked finally.

  "A friend set us up after I moved back here after college."

  "Man, I would have loved to know her back in school," Robby exclaimed.

  "And why is that?"

  "I bet she was a player."

  "Is that right?"

  "Just look at her, man. No way she let that bod go to waste. I bet she was wild. Plus I saw it in her eyes when we were talking shit at lunch. Threesomes, black guys, I bet she's done it all."

  I rolled my eyes. "How about you keep your fantasies to yourself, bro? What do you care anyway?"

  "Dude, I'm just trying to figure out how you landed her. Like I said, she's a thoroughbred, and you're a...." He paused for effect, "a Shetland Pony or something."

  Davey and Tomas both cracked up. I'm not a real big guy, 5'9", 150 pounds, but Robby wasn't one to talk. He was big, yeah, 6'2" and had probably been a stud back in the day. He still had a powerful build, but it was hidden under a generous layer of fat. He was pushing 250, easy.

  "I guess that makes you a water buffalo then," I replied to more guffaws from Tomas and Dave.

  He smirked at me. "Don't let this manly beer belly fool you, son. I could kick your ass in any physical challenge you can name."

  "Eating cheeseburgers isn't a physical challenge." More laughs from the guys. I was on a roll.

  "How about swimming then, little man. Would that count? I bet I can beat you back to the shore from here."

  "Dude, there is not a chance. You're more likely to drown halfway there than you are to beat me."

  "Put your money where your mouth is," he challenged.

  "Sure, say fifty bucks?"

  He laughed. "Oh yeah, right, I forgot you're a welfare case. I was thinking more like a thousand. Or shit, make it five."

  "God, I'd love to take your fucking money. I could definitely put it to better uses than your Vegas whores. But I don't bet more than I have."

  "I knew it, you're chicken. I thought you were a pony, but turns out you're poultry." Dave and Tomas exploded at that.

  Robby twisted the screws. "Tell you what, I'll make it ten Gs, but you have to put something on the table too, not money, but something."

  "You want my car?"

  "Naw, man, that piece of shit ain't worth half that. As far as I can tell, the only thing you’ve got that's worth anything is that pretty, little piece of tail you call a wife."

  "You're a sick fuck, you know that?"

  "Make it 25 Gs then."

  "Fine," I laughed. "But when I win you also have to shut your trap about my wife. No more shit. Okay?" I figured that even if he didn't pay the money, shutting him up would be worth it by itself.

  "Done."

  "And when I win, you get to watch me slide my big schlong into your wife's tight, little box."

  "If you beat me and if you can talk her into it… but don't get your hopes up on either score."

  He smirked. "Let's do it."

  We walked over the edge of the platform. I kept my eyes on him the whole time. I figured he was probably up to something.

  "Ready, set, go!" He shouted, and we both leapt off the platform.

  He was powerful. He quickly built up a short lead on me. But his technique sucked, and I had been on the swim team as a kid and still swam pretty regularly. In the end, swimming is all about form. He got out in front on pure strength, but he was wasting tons of energy. I caught up to him after about 25 yards, by the time we were halfway to shore, I had built up a solid and growing lead.

  Then suddenly, I snagged on something. It felt like my swimsuit was caught on a branch. I reached down to try to free myself, but I couldn't find where I was caught. Then just as suddenly, I was free again. I took another few strokes, only to get snagged again. Again, I reached down. All of this was slowing me down, and I could see Robby catching up. Suddenly I was free again. A moment later, snagged, but worse than before, I could feel myself being almost pulled backward.

  Then I heard the laughing. I flipped over on my back and looked at the swim platform. Tomas was holding a fish rod, and Dave was laughing hysterically. At that moment, I felt the fishing line brush against my leg. They had hooked my swimsuit and were alternating reeling me in and letting me go like a fish. I ran my hand down my back and found the hook attached to the back of my trunks. I fumbled with it for a moment, but realized it was hopeless. Flopping around in the water, with tension on the line, I'd never get it loose. I tried to pull on the line, hoping to make them drop the pole, but I was in the water with no traction.

  In the meantime, Robby passed me. I continued to struggle with the line for another moment or two, and then realized my only chance was to remove my suit and swim to shore naked. That was also easier said than done. I managed to loosen the drawstring, but as the suit slid off my ass, it got snagged on my feet. Tomas jerked back on the pole, yanking my feet toward him and plunging my head under water. I struggled to right myself and catch my breath, kicking my feet desperately to ditch the trunks. They finally came free, and I started to glide forward. But my struggling had left me winded, and worse, Robby had built up a big lead.

  I flailed after him, but it was hopeless. He beat me to shore easily. I got to the muddy shallows and sat down, gasping for breath, fuming at Tomas and Dave, and suddenly very conscious that I was buck naked. I saw Tomas reel in my swim suit, and then watched the two of them climb into the rowboat and start back to shore, laughing hysterically the whole time.

 

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