A Cuckold's Diary Ch. 22byPaul Pines©
"The Birthday Girl"
Warning, disclaimer, advisory, caveat: this is a story about real-life cuckolding. I am a masochist, and my wife Sally, who loves me dearly, was never comfortable hurting me, even when I asked her to. Thirteen years ago we discovered cuckolding, which allowed her to hurt me in a way that she could enjoy. This means it is a win-win for us, and has made our lives and our marriage deeper, fuller and more complete.
If it will bother you to read about a wife cuckolding her husband, please stop reading now. If you continue, please -- PLEASE -- do not get to the end of the story and express your shock that it was about a wife cuckolding her husband. Because if you do, we will all have to wonder whether your IQ is greater than your shoe size.
As they say at the beginning of South Park, this story should not be read by anyone.
It began on our anniversary, a month ago. I had decided that I would make the most of my once-a-year mercy fuck from Sally; if not to get her to want more, then at least to help her enjoy it as much as possible. I made reservations at the Borgata in Atlantic City, complete with champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries waiting for us in the room when we arrived. I didn't cum for four days beforehand, so I would be able to perform without worrying. We had a wonderful drive to AC, checked into our room and sat on the bed with the welcoming champagne.
Sally asked if I wanted to make love now, and I said YES! I did my best to be romantic and skilled, copying as many things as I could remember from the times I used to watch her lover, Ted, in bed with her. We undressed and made out for a long time -- Sally says she still loves the way I kiss her, and I love it, too. When she took out her pocket rocket, I tried to do everything Ted did -- holding her, caressing her, kissing her and talking gently to her as she got excited. When she came in my arms I tried to memorize every sight and sound, knowing that it would probably be another year before I experienced her orgasm again.
I held her during her aftershocks, and when she relaxed she moved down and took my cock in her mouth. The sensation was indescribably wonderful, and as I savored the feelings she looked up at me and said, "This is what I give Ted every time." I had often heard him moaning from her ministrations, but to feel the silky softness of her mouth on me, and to think of HIM feeling this every time they have a date, was both sweet and bitter at the same time.
After a few minutes of going down on me she looked at me and said, "Do you want to be inside me now?" What could I answer, other than to choke out "Yes" again? I reached for the Vaseline, but she said she thought she was wet enough to do without it. That would be a first for us; only her lovers have ever been able to get her wet enough to fuck without other lubrication. I loved thinking that my efforts had paid off, and that I was really getting to her this time, so I immediately got between her legs.
As I was about to slide my penis into her, Sally said, "Look at me. This is what Ted sees every time." I did as she instructed, and looked at her: my wife of 28 years, the mother of my children, was naked, legs spread and pussy open for me... as she is many times a year for HIM. I didn't cum then, but I was close.
I slid into her, and she smiled at me. Her pussy was like heaven; a year is a VERY long time to go without sex, without anything touching my cock except my own hand, and the sensations were overwhelming. It looked like she was enjoying it, too, although it seemed she was getting drier as I continued. After a few minutes she said she wanted to feel me cum in her, and much as I wanted to make it last longer, I couldn't hold back when she said that. I came what felt like several major organs, and she held me tightly when I was done.
After cuddling for a while, we got up, showered, and went to dinner. We had a great time -- dinner, then Sally played the video poker for a few hours and hardly lost anything; what I call a completely successful evening. We fell asleep in each other's arms, and I slept very soundly.
In the morning we woke slowly, and showered together. As we cuddled in the shower, I gently asked her how she felt about the previous night. "I liked it," she said. "So, do you still want to wait another year before doing it again with me?" I asked.
"Oh God, yes," she responded, without any hesitation.
I was honestly puzzled, and I asked her if she had enjoyed making love with me. "I loved making you feel good," she said.
"But didn't YOU feel good, too?" I asked.
She looked at me for more than a few seconds, considering whether to tell me the truth. "I faked it. I wanted to give you something special, so I pretended to enjoy it. But I really didn't. Didn't you feel me drying out while we made love?"
I was crushed. She didn't exactly say it to hurt me, and I was touched that she would do what she did just to give me a wonderful anniversary present, but I felt SO humiliated to know that my best efforts at making love to my wife were so bad that she had to fake enjoying the experience. I tried to hide my reaction, but clearly I didn't; as soon as she saw my face she hugged me, apologized for saying that, and added, "But you wanted me to tell you the truth, didn't you?"
I said yes, I always wanted us to talk honestly. And I asked her if it was, honestly, that bad.
She looked at me with genuine love, and again thought about her words before she spoke. Finally she said, "Yes, it was that bad. But I love you, and I loved giving that to you."
"And you want to wait another year before doing it again?" I asked.
"Yes, I do. And I really appreciate your understanding that," she answered.
We hugged, we each said "I love you," and we got out of the shower.
The ride home was fine, and we talked about everything under the sun... except sex. Until we were nearly home, when my wife asked me to get in touch with Ted to set up a date as soon as possible.
"I really need to get fucked well," she said. "Especially now."
I did as I was told, and scheduled a date for them three weeks later... on Sally's birthday.
As the days passed, I realized that the only way I could make sense of what had happened on our anniversary, and what would happen on their next date, was to beat myself up -- badly -- about my lack of sexual prowess and my wife's desire to fuck her lover, but not me. I watched video after video of couples who WANTED to fuck each other, and with each one I told myself that I was looking at Sally and Ted, not Sally and me. It was powerfully erotic in a way that only a cuckold can understand, and I realized that not even Sally and Ted understood it fully. So I spoke with each of them and asked, as a favor, if they would help ME on their next date; without interfering too much in their time together, I asked if it would be possible for them to help me feel bad about myself as a man. Ted understood, and Sally tried to understand, and each said they would "see what we can do." I couldn't ask more, and so I waited...
Now, in the fantasy world, everything would have gone smoothly leading up to Sally and Ted's date. But in the real world, life isn't so simple. Sally is facing serious surgery on one or both knees -- possibly replacing them -- and she is in a LOT of pain. She wakes up in the middle of the night in pain, and it's getting more and more difficult for her to walk. So sex was just not on her mind, and much as it was on MY mind, I didn't feel I could -- or should -- bring it up during the intervening weeks. In fact, the week before their date I asked her if she wanted to cancel it, but she said no; she wasn't sure how much she would be able to do with Ted, but she was sure she wanted to try.
It wasn't until two days before their date that she started to get in the mood, and said she'd like to "play" that night. I understood, of course, that "playing" meant that she would get herself off with her vibrator while I sat outside our bedroom door and listened, as she had told me years ago that my being with her just made it more difficult for her to get off. Much as I wanted to hear her cum, I suggested that she might want to save it for Tuesday -- save it for Ted. She thought about it for only a second, and thanked me for my suggestion.
As I said, the fact that SHE couldn't get into it in advance didn't mean that I couldn't -- or that Ted couldn't. Chatting with him on IM the week before their date, he told me that he would not cum after Thursday night, and would save his cum, in his words, "to deposit in your wife's womb."
Although I stopped cumming on Saturday to be sure I was horny enough to be able to get excited about my impending cuckolding, I must have masturbated a dozen times that week, looking at the archived text of that conversation. Ted -- my wife's lover, the man my wife wants in her bed and in her body -- told me he was saving up his semen to squirt into my wife.
Added to the humiliation of our anniversary, this latest bit of information drove me into a sub-space which I have not reached in all the years of my cuckolding. I felt like -- no, I actually WAS -- a sexual loser. My wife had to fake enjoying the one time this year that I got to have sex with her, while she and her lover each saved up their orgasms to share with each other. If you are not a cuckold, I know this makes no sense at all; but for those who are, you may be able to understand the emotional state I found myself in as we prepared for their date.
On Monday, the day before their date, I had lunch with a friend at Wegman's. After lunch I told him I had to buy a few salads for that night's dinner; in fact, what I was buying was lunch for Sally and Ted for the next day. It felt powerfully erotic to be buying lunch for my wife and her lover while talking with a friend; almost as if I was able to bring him in on our little secret. But this is a secret best kept to oneself, so I did my best to hide my growing erection.
Monday night, we left for the hotel. Our usual 1 ½ hour drive was uneventful as we talked about our day and checked in with our kids, reminding them that we were out for the night. When we got to the hotel and settled in, we had a drink and a chance to talk.
I told Sally that I understood how difficult the past weeks had been, and how preoccupied she was with her legs. I said I hadn't wanted to bring up sex, since it was obvious how much she was hurting. I also told her how powerfully I had reacted to our anniversary, and especially to the next morning's revelation. I said I had discussed this with Ted and he understood, but I hoped she would understand, too. She said she did, and she apologized for her distraction; I said no apology was necessary, but I hoped they could keep this in mind during their date. She said she would... and she kept her word.
Not much more was said about it that evening, but as we turned out the lights Sally kissed me and said, "Ted's going to fuck me in this bed tomorrow morning. Sleep tight."
Every time I dozed off, an image of Ted sliding his cock into my wife jolted me awake. And each time I woke up I thought, "It was just a dream." Then I realized that no, it was not just a dream; it was the plan for the day. More important, my wife had reminded me of it... and it hurt. I did NOT "sleep tight." But I did sleep hard.
In the morning I followed my usual ritual, dressing quietly in the living room so Sally could sleep longer. I choked down a little breakfast (thank you, Hampton Inn, for your free breakfasts each morning) and prepared a tray to bring back to the room for Sally. I woke her gently, and after she ate she went to shower. That was my cue to clean up the bedroom and make the bed, turning it from OUR bed into THEIRS. As Ted had asked long ago, I turned down the covers on the near side, to make it easy for them to slip into bed together. My shame at my role in their date suddenly overwhelmed me, and the specter of facing Ted, knowing that he knew about our anniversary, made my chores more difficult than usual. But at last they were done, and Sally joined me in the living room to wait for her lover.
She was dressed in the only thing she ever got from Fredrick's of Hollywood: a floor-length negligee with wide, diagonal stripes alternating black and transparent. The black stripes covered her nipples and her pussy, but most of her tits and most of her body were clearly visible. She was dressed for sex; dressed to undress; dressed for HIM.
Not for me.
When he arrived, he handed Sally a beautiful plant and birthday card, then kissed her deeply. He sat down and she stretched her legs across his lap while she read his card. They sat and talked like that for over half an hour, catching up on their families, their work and Sally's upcoming surgery. As they talked he caressed her naked legs, but other than an occasional kiss there was nothing to indicate that anything else was going to happen. Sitting in the chair across the room from them, I was torn between wanting them to DO something and knowing that as soon as they started they would go to the bedroom and leave me alone. So I waited politely, joined in the conversation on just a few occasions, and tried to picture them fucking.
On an earlier date, Sally had pulled down Ted's pants and gone down on him right in front of me, to show me what I was missing. That was painful, but erotic; I saw him grow in her mouth and I saw him react to her sexual ministrations. I was hoping for a repeat performance today, but it was not to be. When they finally turned toward each other in earnest, they kissed once and got to their feet to go to bed.
I usually say, "Have a good time" to them as they walk toward the bedroom, but my voice caught in my throat and nothing would come out. I watched silently as my wife, dressed in a sexy negligee, took her lover's hand and walked away with him.
Sometimes Ted leaves the bedroom door open for a few minutes, so I can watch them undress and start to make out; I really appreciate it when he does, but today he did not. Before I could get up from my seat I heard the bedroom door shut with a "click," and I knew I was alone for the duration. I pulled down my pants and underwear, walked quietly to the hallway and sat down on the small, rolling seat which Hampton Inn provides by the sink. As I sat down I heard a belt buckle and then a zipper, and I knew Ted was undressing to fuck my wife.
I'd love to ask the people at Hampton Inn if they provided that rolling seat for cuckolds, or if there was some other purpose they had in mind. Personally, I can't see it having any other use, but it is the perfect place for a cuckold to sit and listen to his wife getting fucked behind the bedroom door. So after hearing the bedroom door click closed, I made myself comfortable in "my place" on the rolling seat, right outside their bedroom door. I grabbed the Vaseline, applied it to my penis, and listened...
I heard him suck in his breath, then groan: my wife was going down on him. I heard him groan more: she was doing a good job of it. Then it got quiet, and I wasn't sure what was happening.
As an aside, Sally goes through "pocket rockets" at an amazing rate. Between leaving some in the hotel after her dates, to breaking some, to just burning them out, I buy them five or six at a time. The last batch -- with a purple, transparent case -- are the best she's ever had. They have a deep vibration, and they get her off really fast. Unfortunately, they are almost silent: from outside the door I can never tell when she's turned them on. So I didn't have any way of knowing whether they were talking or using her vibe until I heard, "unh... UNNNNHHHHHH," and knew that my wife was cumming in Ted's arms. I heard and felt the bed shake as she orgasmed, and I heard Ted talking to her; I couldn't make out his words, but I knew from what she has told me that he was encouraging her and telling her how beautiful she looks. I guessed she had cum in about two minutes, and Ted confirmed that later. So did she, when she thanked me for my suggestion that she "save it" for him. She said it felt so good to cum in his arms, and she loved knowing that she had waited for him. Unspoken was the understanding that cumming with me was always difficult for her, and I never made her feel the way he did.
As soon as her aftershocks died down, I heard the sheets move and the bedsprings creak. Then I heard Sally suck in her breath; the sound she makes when a cock enters her pussy. That was followed by a long, deep moan from Ted, confirming that he was in my wife's body. Sitting outside THEIR bedroom, I jerked off to the shame of knowing that another man was fucking my wife, my wife was loving it, and I was sitting outside the door jerking off while they cuckolded me. I wished I wasn't excited. I wished I was enough of a man to open the door and demand that they stop. I wished it was me inside my wife, making the guttural sounds I heard from HIM. But none of my wishes came true; I sat alone and rubbed my penis while Ted fucked my wife, and my wife fucked Ted. My shame was complete.
Or so I thought.
Suddenly, Ted called to me. "Paul, open the door NOW," he commanded. Still sitting on my little chair, I turned the knob and pushed the door open. What I saw took my breath away like a kick in the stomach: my wife -- my own wife -- was on her back, naked, with her legs spread, and Ted was on top of her, naked, between her legs, fucking her. I saw him push into her as I opened the door, and as he did he looked at me and said -- gasped, actually - "I want you to watch me cum in your wife."
My brain scrambled as I took in the sight in front of me, and thought back to my conversation with him last week. He had told me on Thursday that he wasn't going to cum again because he was saving his semen "to deposit in your wife's womb," and now he wanted me to see him do it. After telling me to watch he turned back to my wife, looking into her eyes as he fucked her. It was only a few strokes after I opened the door when his whole body shook and he moaned, "Ohhhhh, Sally..." I saw him lose it: lose control, lose any thought of making it last... lose his semen. He came in front of my eyes.
He told me he wanted me to watch, and I did. I sat there like a complete loser, watching my wife bring him to the edge and take him over. He moaned, groaned an bellowed his pleasure, and I watched his ass muscles contract as he came in her. I couldn't see his cock -- it was buried in my wife's body -- but I knew what was happening: he was ejaculating in her... in her pussy... in her womb. He had saved up his semen for five days, and now he was squirting it into my wife as he shuddered with pleasure.
The minute his orgasm subsided he looked at me and said, "Now close the door and leave us alone." Later, Sally told me that I let out a cry when he said that; I don't remember doing that, but I believe it. I felt like he had ripped out my heart -- that THEY had ripped out my heart -- and they had a good time doing it. Yet I did as I was told, and closed the door for them.
THEN I cried. Not for long, but long enough. I was still hard, and was grateful that I had resisted cumming since Saturday since it was only my incredible horniness that allowed me to cope with what I had just experienced. But I knew that Ted had shown me something precious: he had shown me what I had lost. He shared a moment of intimacy with me, to help me see that my wife wants him inside her, and doesn't want me. He showed me what my wife gives to the man who makes her feel like a woman, and he showed me what he wanted to show his lover's husband, who never made her feel that way. I had asked him to help me feel bad about myself, and he did, in spades. Thank God I was horny, because I don't know if I would have survived the pain, the shame and the humiliation he made me feel.