RTX 2070

Aug 2, 2020
This card has a USB C Controller BUT no USB C PORT?!

Like most young men, I would have never even considered the possibility that such a word existed, let alone the fact that I could grow up and become one. Not too long ago, the mere idea of it would have angered me greatly. I had a typical youth, surrounded by friends, family, sports, and adventure. I was a normal teenager, and leaned in to the young bravado and propped up masculinity that middle and high-school peer pressure promoted. If you had told me that one day I would step aside to allow for another man to seduce and have sex my wife, I probably would have thrown a punch in your direction. I suppose that life often has a way of humbling us, however, and sometimes the manner in which it does can prove to be quite transformative.
I had snuck up to the guestroom door once again, a habit that had grown in frequency in recent weeks. The heat of shame was coursing across my face, distinct and inescapable, as was my arousal. Our guest room bed rocked back and forth, squeaking and creaking amidst a sexual chorus of thwacking, naked skin. With a dry mouth I swallowed, listening through the crack in the door as the love of my life moaned loudly in intense pleasure.

"Ohh-h William! I love your big dick!" My wife called out in passion to our hung lodger. I listened to William's masculine grunt of satisfaction, and then to the sounds of their lips smacking together in desire.

Human sexuality is a complicated thing. I would never be able to fully explain the pained excitement that my cuckolding caused me. As I toiled with strong embarrassment, my small penis was rigid in profound excitement. I listened, perpetually awestruck, as my wife submitted herself, and by proxy our marriage, to our supremely endowed guest.

As impossible as it might be to navigate the layers of complexity involved in our new sexual dynamic, less complicated perhaps, was the age old notion that penis size mattered. While that might not ring true for all women, I believe without question that it does for most.

Samantha was moaning louder now, Williams thrusting becoming more urgent as their bodies collided together in sexual need. I heard her gasp, my minds eye visualizing the pleasure that another man was giving her, "I'm cum-minggg William! Oh god! It's- so big! I'm cu-mming all over it!!"

I had learned, quite undeniably, that it certainly did for my wife.

Samantha and I were high school sweethearts, a romanticized type of relationship that was indeed a growing rarity in today's climate. I like to think that we did justice to the idea of it, both proud of a strong marriage and a deep love for one another, persistent even now into our early thirties. She's the only woman I have ever been with, sexually. Up until William, I had been the only man that she had ever been with, as well. Sammie is gorgeous in her own understated way, her body thick, with light brown hair that often cascades across her delicate and feminine face. She behaves shyly and quietly most of the time, but carries herself with a sexy undercurrent of sultry confidence, visually amplified by her large breasts and plump rear end. Sometimes she will find a way to temporarily shed her introverted demeanor, usually when the corks starting flying off bottles of red wine.

We lived not thirty minutes from the same neighborhood that we both grew up in, Sammie now working as an administrator at the same middle school that we attended when we were kids. I attended a regional trade school and became a skilled mechanic, working at a local automotive repair shop. Neither of us were exceedingly ambitious, and mostly preferred lazy weekends and relaxing free time together.

We were far from wealthy, but we lived a comfortable life in a typical suburbian middle class home. Even though we hadn't had kids yet, we knew the biological clock was ticking, and intended on starting that journey in the near future. One thing we wanted to do beforehand, was take a long-desired European vacation. Neither of us had ever been overseas, and believed it would be infinitely harder to accommodate a trip like that, with our incomes, after having children.

In order to stash away some additional cash, I came up with the idea of renting out our spare bedroom over the summer. There was an industrial district, and several business complexes, not too far from where we lived. I knew the room would likely be desired by any number of traveling professionals. What I did not plan on, naturally, was for our sex lives to change in the process, and for me to be made a cuckolded husband along the way.

"I'm not so sure John." Samantha rather objected to the idea, after I had initially broached it. "I don't know how comfortable I feel with a stranger living in our home."

"I know Sammie, but think about an extra four or five-thousand dollars, and how far that'll go towards the vacation." I replied, while also understanding her concern. We were trustworthy people, but we knew there was a need for caution when inviting a lodger into our home. I added, "I think it goes without saying that we can, and will, be very thorough in selecting the person. We don't have to accept the first one who shows interest. At the end of the day if it doesn't work out, it doesn't work out."

Samantha thought on it for a moment, taking a sip of grocery bought wine.

I added, noting the average vintage and smiling across the table at her, "Think about a four star hotel, a real Italian dinner." I looked down at the pasta in my plate, pointing to it with my fork, "Not take out from Antonio's."

She smirked back at me, raising her glass, "Expensive wine."
I nodded, "A bottle a meal, even."

My wife chuckled, "We might not remember the trip at that rate."

We were in bed later that evening, after agreeing that we'd "safely" put out an ad for a renter. The glasses of red had lubricated my wife's inhibitions, and a more animated version of herself was encouraging my thrusts.

"Do me baby." Sammie whispered, as I pumped back and forth into her.

Our sex life had always been pretty good, though in recent years we seemed to lack a certain spark, a certain excitement, in the bedroom. I suppose that's normal for most long time married couples. Lately, though, we had begun to dip our toe's into some unfamiliar and naughty territory.

Admittedly I was never really a sexual dynamo, nor very well endowed, but lately I found myself finishing earlier than I was used to. A perverse thought had began to grow in my mind, fueled by a recent admission from Samantha.

It was a casual comment from my wife, and certainly not the first of its kind. She was an attractive woman, and was often stared at or hit on when out in public. Where once I was an extremely jealous teenager, I had slowly realized that male attention paid towards Sammie had become strangely captivating to me. It was hard to articulate why that was, in all honesty. The catalyst to those frightening thoughts had occurred a few months back, when Samantha mentioned one such case.

"A man at the hardware store asked for my number today." She had admitted, blushing and embarrassed.

I remained stoic, and replied, "That's never surprising, my love. You're gorgeous. Did you give him your cell or our home number?" I joked.

She chuckled, answering, "Funny John. I actually told him that I was flattered, but showed him my wedding ring." She replied, somewhat anxiously.

"Why do I get the sense that there's more to this story?" I added, sensing her discomfort.

"You'll never believe what he said to that." Samantha covered her face with her hands, seemingly mortified.

"What?" I replied, very much curious.

"He said. Good. Married women are my favorite kind!"

I felt a strange stirring from within me when Samantha spoke those words, and I can't explain why. I managed to keep my composure, replying, "The stones on that guy! What did you say?"

"Nothing! I walked away!" She replied, smiling in red faced embarrassment, adding, "I couldn't believe it!"

It was the following evening when I had a potent, harrowing dream.

Like all dreams, my recollection of it was hazy and amorphous, but also contradictorily vivid. I had arrived home to the sounds of passionate sex, a chill running down my spine, the hairs standing tall on the back of my neck as I realized that it was my wife engaged in the act. The atmosphere in our home was sleepy and seductive, somehow intoxicating.

I slowly strode down the hallway as Samantha's moans grew louder, it taking every ounce of courage to approach our faintly familiar bedroom door, my hand clammy and shaking as I spun the handle.

She was there, her legs spread wide, sexy body covered by a foreign and hulking masculine frame. The man was faceless, but taller and more muscular than me. Their sexual collision was cloudy, as if my own mind was afraid to present the details of what was occuring down between their legs. I trembled, listening as the woman I loved moaned with an unfamiliar ferocity. The strong male's muscles were rippling as he pumped into her, and even though I could not see below, I immediately knew that he was infinitely more sexually equipped than myself.
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Well-known member
Jan 25, 2007
Which exact card model are you talking about?