A Cuckold's Diary Ch. 14byPaul Pines©
This letter to my wife was an attempt to put our relationship into an understandable context. There's no SEX in it, so if you just want to get off, save yourself some time.
Hope you enjoy!
This is not how we got to the place we are at now. A lot more time, exploration, stress, disappointment, love and commitment to working things out went into the equation. But play along... it might help everyone understand.
Imagine this: go back to your pre-married days. You meet a great guy -- bright, funny, interesting to be with. You start dating, and all is well... until you go to bed. What you discover is that while he is bright, funny and interesting to be with, he doesn't turn you on when you have sex with him. Nothing horrible, nothing offensive; he just doesn't turn you on.
After a few attempts you find yourself making excuses to avoid sex when you go on a date: your family's home, you're tired, you have a lot on your mind. You feel bad when you see him walk away frustrated at the end of a date, and you try to compensate by making sure he has a great time when you're out together. You even give in once in a while and take him to bed, though each time just convinces you more and more that this isn't working. Maybe it's you, you wonder. You thought you'd had good sex before, but as time passes you imagine that you just don't like sex that much. But you really like the guy.
Then a friend introduces you to another man. Not your type at all, and your first reaction is to decline his offer of a date. But the strangest thing happens when you go out with him: you find yourself getting turned on, getting wet. You can't even say why, but you want this man inside you. By your second date he's in your bed, and in you, and you feel wonderful. You had forgotten that sex could feel this way. You had forgotten that you could feel this way. Whatever he does, you love it. And you make sure he loves it, too.
Afterward, you wonder: Is there any chance my boyfriend would understand that I love him, but don't want to make love with him? And if he could find a way to accept that idea, what are the chances that he would also understand that once in a while I just need to be fucked by someone good at it?
After a long, romantic evening, you and your boyfriend are alone. You kiss -- actually, you love kissing him -- and he's worked his hand into your shirt and is caressing your breast. You take a deep breath and say, "I love when you do that." He smiles, surprised and pleased. You don't give him time to respond and you continue, "but I don't want to do more than that with you."
He looks crushed and pulls back his hand, assuming you are breaking up with him. You kiss him deeply and guide his hand back to your breast. "I love you," you add. "I love almost everything we do together. I think you feel good about us, too. So let's figure out if we can be together without sex getting in the way, okay?"
Puzzled, he asks, "You don't want sex?"
"Sometimes I do. But when I'm with you I want everything else. Is that so bad?"
"And what happens when you want it?"
"Don't worry, I can always find it. But I will always come back to you." You pause, knowing what you have just asked him to accept.
"Let's not talk about it anymore right now," you say. Please just kiss me and keep doing what you're doing."
Later that night, after he leaves, you lie in bed and start to touch yourself. You think about how much you love your boyfriend, but when you cum you are thinking about how your lover feels inside you.
The next evening, sitting at dinner, you and your boyfriend make small talk. You both know what the main subject is, but neither of you can bring it up until you've exhausted every other topic of conversation. Finally he takes a deep breath and says, "Let's talk."
"I love you," he continues, "and I want to be with you if we can work this out. Is it okay if I ask a few questions?"
You smile and relax for the first time all evening. "I love you, too," you say. "Ask anything you want to ask."
He looks straight into your eyes and says, "Do you like sex?"
Why be disingenuous now? "Yes," you respond.
"But you don't like it with me?"
"No," you say quietly.
"Have you had sex with anyone since we started dating?"
"Yes." You hear him exhale hard, as if he had just been punched in the gut.
"And it was better than it was with me?"
"Is sex with me that bad?"
"Yes... uh, no. It's not that bad."
"I see," he says, with a look of defeat in his eyes. "It's not that bad, but it's not good either. Right?"
You respond slowly. No need to hurt him more. "I guess that's right. But I love everything else about you, and about us. Doesn't that count?"
He hesitates, and the look on his face softens. "Yes, it does. It counts for a lot." He takes your hand, holds it in his and smiles at you. "How often do you want to go out with someone else?" he asks, catching you completely off guard.
"Um, maybe once a month?"
"You don't need more sex than that?"
"No, that's enough." You can't believe he has carried the conversation this far, and you want to be as gentle on him as you possibly can be. And honestly, having your lover take your breath away once a month really would be enough.
"What about me?" he asks.
You knew this was coming. What you want isn't fair -- you know that. But this isn't about fair, is it?
"I don't think I would be able to continue our relationship if you went out with others," you say firmly.
His lack of surprise makes you think he knew it was coming, too. "But what am I supposed to do for sex?"
"I guess the same thing you did when you weren't going out with anyone."
"You don't want to make me feel good?" he asks, sounding more like a lawyer than a hurt lover.
"Oh yes, I do want to make you feel good. I'll try to make you feel good every way I can. Except sex."
"Can't we have sex sometime anyway, even if you don't love it?"
"I guess we could. I can fake it if you want."
That was his last line of defense. You watch as it crumbles in front of your eyes.
"No," he says quietly. "I don't want you to fake it."
Silence. Neither of you is willing to take the next step for what seems like an hour.
Finally, he looks right into your eyes; the first time since he said he was ready to talk. "Do you promise to love me before, during and after?"
"Yes. I promise."
"Do you promise not to fall in love with any of them?"
You smile a little when you hear him say "any of them." How many does he think you're going to have? "Yes, I promise that, too."
He speaks more softly, more slowly now. "All right. I love you and I want to be with you, so if those are the conditions then I accept them."
He moves closer, almost whispering in your ear. "May I ask one more question?"
"Anything," you whisper back. Suddenly the conversation has gone from feeling like a negotiation to... well, to a seduction.
"Will you let me help you get ready when you are going out?"
Now it's your mind's turn to reel from the question, but you recover your balance quickly. What a bizarre request, yet is it any stranger than the terms you laid out for him? You think about having your cake and eating it, too, and you decide there are worse things than your boyfriend (husband?) asking to be part of what you have proposed.
"I would love that," you respond with a smile.
After dinner you go to your place. You sit together on the couch, watching television and making out. You open your shirt for him, and as you kiss and hold each other you feel him getting hard. You note with satisfaction that he is completely respecting the newly-imposed limit on where he can touch you, yet you cannot prevent the momentary thought that your lover would never abide by such a request. But you asked, and he agreed, so you make sure not to touch his cock because you don't want him getting the wrong idea.
When the TV show ends he says nothing... clearly, he is waiting for you to take the lead, wherever it will lead. You stand up, take him by the hand and guide him to the front door. You kiss him deeply, feeling his erection pressing against your body but doing nothing to acknowledge it.
"I had a wonderful evening," you say, "and I love you."
"I love you, too," he replies, and says goodnight tentatively. He is hoping you will change your mind, because he knows this is his last chance.
"See you tomorrow," you respond. "Sleep tight."
As you watch him leave you know he is going to go home and jerk off thinking about you and another man together. The thought makes you surprisingly happy. As you lie in bed you think it just may be possible that this will work. You get yourself off thinking about your lover -- the man who makes you wet just by looking at you; the man who would never agree if you said he should be satisfied just touching your breasts.
You fall asleep with a contented sigh and a beautiful smile.
Comments welcome; flames cheerfully ignored.