A Cuckold's Diary Ch. 16byPaul Pines©
Chapter 16 -- October 2008
AS I jerked off outside the closed bedroom door, I heard the sounds of passion and pleasure coming from my wife and her lover. He came, she came, he came again. I was excited as hell, but I did not know why, because I felt ignored, stupid and really, really hurt.
I kept masturbating, not allowing myself to cum because I know I cannot handle the cuckolding unless I'm incredibly horny. But during the quiet times, when no sounds other than the rustling of sheets and an occasional kiss came from the bedroom, I asked myself the ultimate cuckold question:
Why am I doing this?
Why did I bring my wife here and help her get ready for another man? Why did I buy them lunch so they can take a break later, before going back to bed together? Why am I sitting outside the bedroom door while my wife is fucking HIM? And why -- why, for God's sake -- am I excited instead of furious?
Each time he groaned or she gasped, I put those thoughts aside. But after each time they came, after each episode which smacked me in the face with the reality of my wife's infidelity, the questions came back.
Then I got my answer.
The bedroom door opened and Sally walked out, stark naked. She walked by me on the way to the bathroom, her breasts proudly exposed, her nipples hard, her pussy lips so swollen that I could see them as she walked. She made no attempt to cover herself, or to make apologies; clearly she was unashamed about what she had just done. Instead, she smiled her beautiful smile and said, "Twice -- he came in me twice so far." Then she closed the bathroom door behind her. When she came out she had the same smile, and asked me if I was okay. "I'm okay. This really hurts," I said, as I stroked myself as hard as I could.
"I know it does. But I'm having a great time. See you later," she replied, the smile never leaving her lips. Then she turned away and closed the bedroom door behind her.
Her smile was the key. As I stared once again at the door which separated me from the man and woman in bed together, I finally realized the missing piece of the cuckold puzzle: My wife really does have a great time with Ted, and knowing it hurts me does not take away from her pleasure.
The fact is, this was NOT an easy place to reach. Not easy for me, and even harder for Sally. Years ago I had asked her to experiment with S&M -- me always being on the receiving end of the pain, of course. To put it mildly, she HATED it. She loves me, and there was nothing in her that could accept giving me pain, even when I asked her to. She struggled to go along with it, but it was clear that her heart was not in it.
I remember my favorite S&M game. Sally would sit up on the floor, leaning back against a soft pillow. We tied a string loosely around her neck, like a necklace, and attached the other end to my balls as I stood facing her. She used her vibrator, and as I watched her get excited I knew what would happen when she came: her orgasm would make her jerk backward, crushing the soft pillow and pulling so hard on my balls that I thought they would come off. What I loved most about it was that my pain was directly tied to her pleasure: the better she felt, the more I would hurt. But, as I said, those experiments were short-lived, as she just could not handle giving me pain.
Then the cuckolding began.
Nearly 10 years ago I wrote "The Cuckold's and Cuckolder's Guide," in which I said that cuckolding is "psychological S&M." I didn't think much about it at the time, other than to realize over the years that some of the most exciting moments were the most painful ones. But back then I thought that the pain was incidental to cuckolding -- part of it, but not the focus of it. Now I think I was wrong.
Let's look at two definitions:
Cuckold (noun) -- A man with an unfaithful wife. Masochist (noun) -- A person with a sexual perversion characterized by pleasure in being subjected to pain or humiliation, especially by a love object.
Pardon me for getting into semantics here, but a cuckold is NOT the same as a man with a "hot wife." Even if only she dates, even if he sits at home and wonders what's happening, it seems to me that being a cuckold requires INFIDELITY (the "unfaithful" part of the definition) on the part of the wife. Now "infidelity" doesn't mean she has to leave her husband -- in our case, at least, that's the last thing on either of our minds. But being "unfaithful" implies something being lost by the husband; his wife taking a precious part of herself away from him and giving it to someone else instead. I have come to believe that it is the pain of that loss which defines -- and excites -- a cuckold. Why? Because he is a masochist. At least I know I am. And that explains everything.
I always told Sally, "Just because it's exciting doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. And just because it hurts doesn't mean it is not exciting." Now I realize that is way too complicated. The simpler version is, "I'm so excited that you are hurting me."
I've been excited by her hurting me before, but as I said, the problem was that SHE wasn't excited by it; she hated inflicting pain on me. But thinking back to her smile -- last week, and every time she's been with Ted -- I realize we have finally found a way for both of us to feel sexually fulfilled: she has a great lover, and she is comfortable, happy and excited about doing something that hurts me more than anything she's ever done.
I'm sure some men can just get off on the thought of their wives having a great time screwing other men. That's all good, and I hope they enjoy it. But given how many cuckolds have written to me asking, "Why do we do this?" and how many forum discussion threads have addressed the same question, I think something has been missing from our answers. Maybe this is it.
How does my wife hurt me? In order to understand, please remember that I'm a regular, otherwise-normal man. I love my wife, she loves me, and we have created a great life together. We have three fantastic kids, we enjoy our work, we try to help out in the community and we have family and friends that love us. We've even gone through becoming "empty nesters" and found out that we really like being together without the kids. So if you will put aside the fact that being a cuckold excites me, you may get a feeling of what life is like with a wife who loves me, but only has sex with her lover.
To provide a little background: if you've read the previous chapters of my Diary, you know that Sally stopped having sex with me on November 20, 2006... just about two years ago. She has enjoyed these two years so much that she says she NEVER wants to have sex with me again. So the most hurtful thing of all is that everything she does for Ted, everything she shares with Ted, she withholds from me. Happily. Contentedly. Painfully.
I made a list of what hurts, to share with her. Here is the list.
I had always thought you hated sex, but you don't. You LOVE sex. You just hate sex with me.
You get wet when you think about Ted inside you.
You wear flannel nightgowns and cotton panties for me; silk negligees and no panties for him.
When you accidentally forgot your flannel nightgown when we went away, you were upset that you had to wear something sexy with me.
The only time you are comfortable spreading your legs for me is when you're sitting with Ted, because you know I can't touch you then.
When you are with him your pussy is swollen and open. When you are with me it is closed.
You want him inside you.
You are MY wife, but Ted knows every inch of your body.
You are MY wife, but you know every inch of Ted's body.
He knows so much about your body that I have not learned in all our years together.
You know so much about his body that you no longer want to know about mine.
You have your hair done for him, and your nails, and your toenails. You do those things at other times, too, but you never do them FOR ME.
You tweeze your breasts for him, to make sure there are no stray hairs to get in the way when he sucks your nipples. You never do that for me, but you make me check to be sure you did a good job for him. You make me help you get ready for sex with him.
You know I make the bed for you and him.
I drive you to your dates, get everything ready, then stand aside while he takes you.
You and Ted and I know that you only want him inside you.
You take off your clothes for him.
You use your body to turn him on. At home, even when you undress in front of me, you never try to turn me on. In fact, you always maintain the boundaries that prevent sex between us when we are together.
You love giving him your breasts and nipples. The breasts and nipples that nurtured our children.
When Ted feels you up in front of me you smile at him and kiss him.
He always tells me how anxious you are to feel his cock. You and I both know you have never felt that way about mine.
You ask him to feel how wet you are. You tell him that I never, ever make you wet.
You tell me in detail why you hated sex with me. You tell Ted, too.
I will never feel you (or anyone else) stroke my cock.
I will never feel you (or anyone else) suck my cock.
I will never again feel the sensation of my cock inside a woman's body. Never, for the rest of my life.
I hear your vibrator through the bedroom door. I listen as you cum in his arms.
He tells me how much he loves feeling you cum and helping you cum. He describes the intimate things your body does as you cum. He knows all your body's secrets, because you are SO happy to share them with him.
I hear you gasp when Ted slides his cock into you.
I hear Ted cry out with pleasure when he is inside you.
I sit outside the bedroom door and listen to Ted grunt, "I'm cumming!" I am all alone while I hear him groan as he ejaculates in you.
You use every inch of your body to give Ted pleasure. Ultimate pleasure. Pleasure you hated giving me. Pleasure you never want to give me again.
You know I am sitting outside the door while you have sex with him. You are happy I am there. You don't want me further away, but you don't want me closer, either.
When you come out of the bedroom you are always happy to tell me how many times you each came.
You know that my conversations with Ted are the most humiliating experiences in my life. Whether it's "chatting" with the two of you before you go to bed together, or listening to him afterward as he tells me how wonderful it was to have sex with you, it hurts like hell to face your lover. He and I both know that you want him. We both know that you don't want me. We both know that when it comes to sex with my wife, he won and I lost. Again and again. Forever.
You know that when you and Ted are done, I will kiss you, help you dress and drive you home. You know that Ted's sperm will swim inside you for days once we are home.
You are so happy that you won't ever have to have my sperm in you again.
You know I will never have sex again, and you like that.
You know I will never feel a woman's touch -- a woman's sexual touch -- again, and you like that.
You know it has been two years since I have been inside you, and you like that.
You told me that our private "I love you" signal now means, "I love you and I'm thinking about Ted inside me."
Day and night I look at you - at work, or at home, or with our friends, or when we go out to dinner together -- and I am haunted by the image of you naked, on your back with your legs spread, and Ted inside you. I think about your gasps and his groans as you fuck each other. I think about what he has found and what I have lost.
You call me a cuckold.
You cuckold me.
You don't like hurting me, but you have a wonderful time -- an "adventure" -- in bed with Ted. And that really, really hurts.
Knowing you are happy with our relationship is the only thing that could make it hurt more.
You are so happy, aren't you?
Readers may choose whether to believe that all this is true or not. The fact is, it IS true. All of it. Every word, every emotion, all the excitement... and all the pain. I wrote about it because writing helps me understand what's going on in the world, and in the 27 chapters of my Cuckold's Diary I think I have learned a lot. This chapter fills in the final piece of the puzzle, at least for me. Now I know "Why I do this."
As I finish this story, I am looking at the beautiful, formal picture of Sally which sits on my desk. No one would EVER suspect that she is a cuckoldress. Sally, thank you for agreeing to "try the opera once" in March, 1998. Ted, thank you for being a gentleman every step of the way, and for being a superb lover for my wife. Our relationship hurts me every day, and I am very content. I think all three of us are.