A Doll or a Cuckold? Balzaminov’s Marriage. Part 3

The mature woman Larisa continues to turn her fiancé into a full-fledged cuckold. She has sex with another man in front of her fiancé.

LARISA

I’d like to quote a psychologist. His views, combined with the ideas of other authors, have become a guide for me. Specifically, he writes:

— “Anyone can become a cuckold, but more often than not, it’s weak-willed men who don’t know their specific purpose in life, who have often been bullied since childhood and are unable to overcome their weakness and fears.”

So, it seems to me—actually, it’s not just a feeling; I’m almost certain—that my young admirer, Venya, is exactly that type. It is him that I want to mold into a good, obedient cuckold. And here’s another quote confirming the correctness of my choice.

— “For the most part, a cuckold satisfies his beloved woman orally. Thus, the opportunity to penetrate his spouse is a reward for the cuckold and is perceived as a celebration, not a mundane routine, even after many years of marriage.”

In my case, it’s even better. The guy didn’t just avoid penetrating me the traditional way—he didn’t even try to do it. Oral contact with my “treasure” was enough to fully satisfy him. That’s what I’ll play on. He loved my pussy so much—and the word “pussy” itself. He was thrilled when I said it. Had he really never heard it before? This actually makes my task easier. In the three days since we met, Vanya has clearly gotten used to my girl being so easily accessible. He’s obviously euphoric and thinks it’ll always be this way. But soon I’ll cut off the oxygen. Let’s see how he reacts.

Oh, I completely forgot. Venya proposed to me officially, and I didn’t want to upset him by turning him down. That fit my plans perfectly.

For the sake of appearances, I played hard to get for the expected amount of time, and then I finally “said yes.” So now I’m a fiancée! For the umpteenth time?

VENIAMIN

Hooray! Larisa agreed to be my wife. Now I’m absolutely happy! Larisa and I have been living as a married couple for three days now—the key word being “as.” The truth is, I still haven’t been with her… well, in short, I haven’t used my dick yet. No, no, I’m not impotent! Not at all! It’s just as stiff as a board. It’s just that I want to be gentle with Larisa, and what could be gentler for her pussy than my tongue? Larisa doesn’t say anything about it; maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be. Of course, I relieve the tension—though manually. Otherwise, my balls hurt like hell.

I called Yulka, my sister. I have a twin sister. She has a slightly different personality than I do. She’s a pragmatic, self-confident girl. Yulia didn’t want to stay in our town—big as it is, it’s still a backwater—so she left to study in another city. But we keep in touch regularly. I told her about my feelings for Larisa. Yulia was happy for me, but her joy didn’t last long.

“How old is she? Is she in your class?”

“No, Yulia, Larisa is a little older. She’s forty...”

There was probably a minute of silence on the other end of the line. It would have been better if she’d stayed silent. But...

“Vanya, I knew you were a fool before. But to this extent! Why do you need such an old woman!?

“Why call her an old woman right off the bat?” I timidly tried to protest.

“Well, of course, she’s only more than twice your age—just twenty years older.”

“Twenty-one,” I corrected her.

“What?” my sister didn’t understand.

Translated with DeepL.com
— Twenty-one years older.

— It’s getting harder by the minute... Do your parents know?

— Not yet.

— I see. You’re afraid to tell them!

— I am, I admitted.

— I’m a little shy to ask, but has she treated you yet?

— Treated me to what? I didn’t get it.

— Well, what else could a highly experienced woman offer a naive guy like my dear brother? Her most “intimate” part, her pussy...

I didn’t say anything to her about it, but Yulka figured it out on her own.

“You’re silent! That means I’m right. Don’t lose your head over there. Some ‘alpha male’ you are!”...

...And yesterday I was in town visiting my parents. I just had to cheer them up with the news. They’ll have a daughter-in-law soon. I have to say, the news didn’t exactly delight them—and that’s putting it very mildly. I’d expected something like this. My conversation with Yulia only reinforced my suspicions. Still, I had to let them know. At first, though, they took the news relatively calmly. Aside from objections like, “Vanya, you’re still young! Nineteen years old…” or “You shouldn’t be thinking about marriage, but about your studies...” there was nothing else. But when I answered “forty” to the question about her age, that’s when it all started... I won’t repeat all the linguistic flourishes that found their way into that conversation. I’ll just say that there were many of them, and they were quite varied. It basically all boiled down to the fact that an old, cunning, gold-digging slut had found herself a weak-willed oaf and would now twist him into a pretzel, that I’d eventually see the light but it would be too late, that there had never been a case anywhere where a daughter-in-law was three years older than her mother-in-law, and so on. But eventually the emotions subsided somewhat; they probably just didn’t have the strength for anything more.

“So when’s the wedding?” asked Oleg’s dad.

“We’re planning it in a couple of weeks. We’ll book a hall at a restaurant.”

“Vanya, what will she call me, ‘Mom’? I’m younger than her, after all,” my mother’s sad voice caught up with me from behind, but I didn’t answer. I didn’t have an answer…

That day, but closer to evening, Larisa asked me to go to a women’s clothing store in the morning.

“I have classes in the morning. Skipping class is not a good idea. They’re already giving me the side-eye.

“Well, Vanya, you can suffer a little for the sake of your beloved,” Larisa said languidly.

“What’s in that store?”

“Go to the lingerie department. By the way, a friend of mine works there. Ask for Sveta. I told her about us, that we love each other. She’ll help you. Pick out some pretty panties for me based on your taste—get a dozen. Just make sure they’re all different. And buy some stockings, too. Choose them yourself. Sveta knows my size.

— Larisa, why don’t you do it yourself? I feel awkward… women’s lingerie. You’re on vacation, after all.

— Oh, is that so! Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to marry you!? Maybe you don’t love me at all. And I trusted you...

Larisa threw a full-blown tantrum at me, with all the trimmings. She even started packing her things, apparently planning to leave. I was scared and depressed. What if she leaves, abandons me? What will I do then? I can’t live without her anymore! But Larisa changed her mind about leaving and stayed. The next morning, I went to that ill-fated store that had caused our fight yesterday. I found the lingerie section but didn’t dare go in right away—for obvious reasons, only women were browsing there. And for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to go in. I watched from a distance. The abundance of panties, pretty bras, and other delightful little things was a feast for my eyes. But no matter how long I stood there, I had to go in eventually. The aforementioned Sveta quickly spotted me and came over.

“Hello,” the young woman said with a smile. “You must be Larisa’s fiancé, right?”

“Yes. How did you guess?” I asked the silliest question.

“Well, maybe because there are only women here,” she said, gesturing toward the shoppers.

“Of course, how did I not figure that out myself?” I replied, blushing at my own clumsiness.

“Come with me; I’ll show you the merchandise, and you can choose what you need.”

Sveta led me behind a screen that separated a small section of the sales floor. There were similar display cases with merchandise there as well, but there were no customers.

“You’ll feel more at ease here; no one will be staring at you. It’s not every day we have young guys buying such intimate items,” Sveta said with a sly smile.

I took my time choosing. Actually, I wasn’t so much choosing as I was admiring. It’s not every day you get to see something like this! And what’s more, I was holding these beautiful lace items in my hands. The screen hid me from prying eyes, and I unashamedly sorted through and set aside the panties I liked.

Behind the screen, the young female sales clerks were engaged in endless conversations with customers, but they were also chatting among themselves. And amid this monotonous buzz of voices, I caught this exchange. One of Sveta’s colleagues was complaining, most likely about her husband.

“He just won’t dry out! No matter how much I’ve begged him, no matter how many times I’ve kicked him out... It doesn’t help. Screw him...”

“Tanya, did you see the guy I was talking to recently?” I heard Sveta’s voice.
“I saw him. You led him behind the curtain.”

“Oh, so it’s not a screen, but a curtain,” I thought.

“Do you know who that is?”

“No, how would I know!”

“Lariska, remember my friend? She comes over to our place a lot... You know, the blonde. You used to rave about her breasts.”

“Of course I know her! She lives in my building, on the tenth floor...”

“Well, that guy is her new boyfriend!” Svetlana said with a giggle.

— Give me a break! She’s an old woman for him. She’s already over forty. Sorry, Svetka, but your Lariska is a slut. There’s nowhere left to put a mark on her. I see her with a new guy every other day. Though I haven’t seen her this past week...

— Believe it or not. But she’s planning to marry him! She’s living with him right now, taming the guy.

At that moment, I dropped a plastic foot with a stocking stretched over it onto the floor. The conversation stopped immediately, and Svetlana peeked out from behind the curtain.

“So, how’s it going in here? Didn’t get flustered? Made your choice? Yeah, I can see you’ve made your choice. But why didn’t you pick up the stockings? Larisa told me about them, too.”

“I just didn’t have time. I was rummaging around for a while…”

Larisa smiled knowingly and pointed to the mannequins wearing stockings.

“Go ahead, pick what you like, and I’ll give you the packaged ones.”

I picked out a dozen panties and five or six pairs of stockings. Sveta added a couple more bras, even though Larisa hadn’t mentioned them. The girl took a pretty bag and deftly packed my purchases into it.

The whole way to the academic building, I couldn’t figure out why Tanka, a girl I didn’t know, had called Larisa a whore. After all, that’s not true. Larisa isn’t like that...

I made it in time for the start of the second class.

“Did they take attendance?” I asked my neighbor. She shook her head.

A weight was lifted off my chest...

At home, the situation was unchanged. Larisa was still sulking at me, her whole demeanor showing her dissatisfaction and hurt. She didn’t even want to look at my purchases, silently setting the bag of underwear down next to the armchair. We slept apart again that night.

“What a jerk I am! Why did I have to hurt Larisa’s feelings!? Although I still don’t understand how I hurt her.”

LARISA

My boy succumbs very easily to my psychological pressure. He’s tormented, punishing himself for disobeying me. Venya is afraid of losing me and is willing to do anything to atone for his “guilt.” Tomorrow I’ll see just how far he’s willing to go down this path. It’s for tomorrow that I’ve prepared my main blow. I’m burning with impatience to see my potential husband’s reaction. I’ll test just how little my Balzaminov respects himself. If he stays with me after what he sees, then I wasn’t wrong about him. I’ll, of course, tearfully beg for forgiveness, talk about a ridiculous turn of events, and claim that it all happened by accident. My excuses will be deliberately untruthful. Venya, for all his naivety, must realize that I’m lying to him. But he must be satisfied with these false explanations and forgive me. I’ll certainly do my best! I’ve already made arrangements with Stas three days ago. He has to play along with me. I want him to play his part as convincingly as possible. Although, what’s there to act out? “Dinner’s served!” It doesn’t take much brainpower. The main thing is that his potency doesn’t let him down at the crucial moment. I invited him for twelve. My guy will be back from class around two in the afternoon. Everything has to fall into place...

VENIAMIN

I spent the night alone. I say “spent” because my sleep was too restless. Usually, when I dream, it’s almost always an erotic scenario. But not that night. Some kind of nightmares haunted me until morning. In the morning, looking at my reflection in the mirror, I saw a sullen, unhealthy face. Yeah, I looked like a mess... I left for class without eating breakfast. Larisa hadn’t come out of the bedroom yet, though lately that had become the norm. Studying just wasn’t going into my head that day. I wanted to sleep, and some underlying feeling was pulling me home. I managed to sit through two classes and went to the dean’s office to ask for a leave of absence.
“Fyodor Stanislavovich, I’m not feeling well. I’d like to go home...”

The associate dean—an elderly but still robust man—looked at me with a sly smile.

“Young man, what sort of ailment is troubling you? Physical or mental? I’m afraid your malaise is of a mental nature after all...”

“How easily he saw through me,” I thought, but I didn’t answer.

“All right. You may go home. Heal your wounds. We need healthy students...”

On the way home, I imagined myself falling to my knees before Larisa and begging her to forgive me. I was searching for the right words, or so I thought. On the way, I stopped by a flower stand and bought flowers for my beloved. Here’s the house. I fumbled with the door for a while; maybe the lock was jammed. I tugged and twisted it—seemed to be working now. Larisa wasn’t downstairs. Probably in the bedroom on the second floor. On the wings of love, I flew up the stairs; they creaked beneath my feet. There was the door to my bedroom; it was open. But there was no one there. Just my wide bed with stuffed animals at the headboard. I tiptoed over to the door to Yulia’s bedroom and suddenly heard a noise. Someone was moaning, sobbing...

“It must be Larisa crying! Poor thing. How I’ve let her down! Never mind. I’ll fix everything right now.” And I flung the door open...

My feet felt as if they were glued to the floor. At that moment, two desires were battling inside me. On the one hand, I wanted to rush into the bedroom and... On the other, I wanted to slip away quietly. But I did neither; my legs wouldn’t move. What I saw paralyzed my will. Larisa was in the bedroom. In her birthday suit. Actually, no, I’m lying. She was wearing a short denim skirt. But it didn’t get in the way at all, since it was hiked up above her navel. And Larisa most likely didn’t hike up the skirt herself. She had someone to help her. Larisa wasn’t alone in there. She was sitting astride some naked guy. Her face was turned toward me, but she didn’t see me; her eyes were closed. Larisa rhythmically rose above the stranger and then lowered herself onto him. His cock was inside her pussy, my beloved pussy. With one hand, Larisa twisted her nipple; the fingers of the other hand teased her clit. I can’t say how long I stood there like that. I was overcome by a strange feeling, a kind of sleepy tenderness. I suddenly felt warm and calm. I didn’t want to move at all anymore. Mesmerized, I watched and listened. I listened to the sounds Larisa was making, clearly in ecstasy. I saw her long blonde hair swaying in time with the movements of her head. They didn’t notice me for a long time. They didn’t notice until Larisa opened her eyes. When she saw me, my fiancée smiled for some reason—she must have been very flustered—and only after half a minute did she stop her movements.

“Why did you stop? Did you come or something?” a man’s tenor voice rang out. I could only see his legs and his cock and balls—and even then, only part of his cock was visible; most of it was buried in the pussy I adored. Larisa, sitting on top of him, was blocking my view of his torso and head.

“V-v-venya? How did you get here?” You-you-you still have classes..."

After those words, the guy lying under Larisa jumped up abruptly, knocking her onto the bed. As he frantically gathered up his scattered pants and shirt, I saw his frightened face. The guy looked a bit like me—the typical nerd face. For some reason, I noticed his hands: smooth, well-groomed, and his long, thin legs. He was about thirty, maybe even younger.

“An intellectual, probably,” I thought, without malice.

Grabbing his things, he rushed headlong toward the stairs and pounded the steps with his bare feet. Suddenly the pounding grew louder, and he reappeared in the bedroom.

“He changed his mind about running away; now he’s going to crawl back into bed,” a silly thought flashed through my mind.

“I forgot my shoes,” he began to explain for some reason. He grabbed his shoes and this time disappeared for good.

I stood there silently, unable to figure out how to act or what to say. Larisa was silent too, but not for long...

...Vanya, you won’t believe this, but it’s not my fault. Really, it’s not my fault,” Larisa stammered, putting on her panties for some reason.

My silence continued.

“I’ll tell you everything. That scumbag is my classmate. He just got out of prison. Vanya, he’s a dangerous man. Did you see his thuggish face!?”

Even though I was in a daze, some things were getting through to me.

“A classmate,” I thought. “That doesn’t add up—he’s much younger than Larisa, maybe ten years younger. Maybe he started school early. And he definitely doesn’t look like a thug—more like a violinist in their symphony orchestra.”

“He told me he hadn’t been with a woman in a long time and offered to satisfy me.” I refused, told him I have a fiancé, that we love each other and are getting married soon. I resisted as best I could. But he was stronger and raped me. Do you understand? He raped me!” Larisa practically screamed. “How am I supposed to live now?”

“Raped,” I thought. I had a slightly different idea of how a woman being raped would behave and look. And she shouldn’t have been moaning so sensually. But if Larisa said it was rape, then so be it. I couldn’t contradict her; I was afraid she’d get mad at me again.

“Vanya, I don’t know what to do now. You won’t even want to look at me after that bastard took advantage of me,” Larisa said, sobbing.

“Come on, silly. How could I not want to!? I’d do it right now...”

“Really?” Lara asked timidly. “Then maybe I should take a shower?”

“Forget the shower,” I muttered, hugging and kissing her. Those few days during which Larisa had kept me on a “starvation diet” had done their job. I wanted her desperately. But today was a special occasion. I wanted to show my fiancée that I was ready to do anything for her. I didn’t care at all about what had happened to her today. What’s more, Larisa’s “adventure” added a special spice to the situation.

“Maybe it’s actually a good thing that everything turned out this way!?” a wild thought pierced my mind. “Larisa is affectionate with me again.” At first, I tried to push that thought away, but it kept coming back, nagging me over and over.

As I’ve already mentioned, I didn’t let Larisa go into the shower, so I got to experience something new. Larisa’s pussy, which I adored so much, gave off a new scent. It turned me on, stirring my imagination! Besides, her pussy was wet and a little sticky. I felt this as I buried my face in Larisa’s crotch. Her lips, already swollen, became even more pronounced. As I kissed them, I felt no emotional discomfort; for a moment, it even seemed to me that after contact with the rapist’s penis, her pussy had become more desirable than usual. Or maybe it wasn’t just my imagination...
Larisa did end up taking a shower, but only after everything was over. I wanted to go with her, but she wouldn’t let me. She came out with this mysterious smile, as if she knew something I didn’t.

“Vanya, where are my new clothes?”

“You threw them under the chair somewhere.”

“Oh, right, here they are. Let’s see what kind of ladies’ man you are. What did you pick out?”

She dumped the contents of the bag onto the bed and began methodically sorting through the fancy lace trinkets.

“I didn’t ask you to buy bras. Well, since you got them, they’ll come in handy.”

Larisa noisily opened the package of stockings. First one, then another… She stopped at the fourth.

“Not a bad choice. Sveta must have helped!”

“No, I picked out the stockings myself. I just took the ones I liked.”

“I’ve threatened so many times to buy a plastic leg mannequin so I could see the stockings from the side. The conversation never went any further than that.”

“Mannequin—that’s what that thing is called. And I called it a dummy,” I thought.

“Vanya, I see we have the same build. Put on these stockings, and I’ll watch from the side to see how they fit.”

“But that’s a women’s accessory!”

“So what? What’s the difference! Put them on.”

I had no choice but to obey.

I put on the stockings and stood as stiff as a board.

“Do a catwalk—come on, walk around the room.”

I moved a little, swaying slightly, imitating the gait of a fashion model.

— That won’t do. A shirt, men’s boxers, and pretty women’s stockings! What a terrible mix! Take off the shirt! Put this on.

Larisa tossed me one of the pairs of panties I’d bought. I don’t know what Larisa liked so much, but she laughed and even clapped.

“Awesome! Now you and I are going to go shopping for my lingerie. And by the way, that outfit suits you. You look really good! Just like a doll!”

“What kind of doll?” I tried to object. As a man, that comparison doesn’t suit me.

“Yes, of course!” Larisa agreed readily. “A doll is a girl, a woman. And the male version... how should I put it. Oh! I’ve got it! A woman is a doll, a man is a cuckold! Yes, yes, yes! You, Vanya, aren’t a doll, you’re a cuckold! Doesn’t that sound lovely!?”