A Cuckold's Diary Ch. 18byPaul Pines©
This is a story about real-life cuckolding. I am posting it for people to read for enjoyment, or education, or voyeurism, or whatever gets you off. It is about a loving relationship between a husband and wife, in which each of us has learned what turns our partner on. If you think for a moment that my wife is a bitch, you misunderstand completely. On the other hand, if you think I'm a pretty poor excuse for a man, I wouldn't argue the point.
BTW, she didn't marry me for my money!
Comments welcome; flames cheerfully ignored.
Many years ago, my wife's lover, Ted, explained the phrase, "topping from the bottom." It's a big deal in the world of domination and submission (D&s), describing the temptation of the submissive partner to control the action. Essentially, the sub is so intent on feeling truly out of control that he or she makes sure the action goes exactly as they want it to. Of course, this defeats the purpose of the whole endeavor, since they can't lose control as long as they insist on running everything their way!
Ted has some experience in D&s, so when he saw me trying to choreograph his dates with my wife, Sally, he tried -- gently -- to get me to let go. Sometimes he succeeded; other times I was so fixated on being cuckolded that I would lay out the entire day's events as if their date was a Bob Fosse musical number. Those dates were pretty intense, but I always had the thought that Sally and Ted were performing for me as much as they were fucking each other.
Apparently Sally thought that, too, because a few years ago she asked if it would be possible for me to accept not being in the bedroom with them when they fucked. I gave it a try, and it worked for us -- it TOTALLY worked for the two of them, and it sort of worked for me. There were times when I felt really left out of things, and some of those times I found myself sulking outside the bedroom door, but Sally and Ted were very understanding and asked me what I needed to be okay with our new arrangement. Little by little I told them -- "do this," "tell me that" -- until once again I was topping from the bottom. I might not have been with them in the bedroom, but I choreographed every minute before and after their fucking. I got them to undress in front of me before going to bed, and I got Sally to go down on Ted in front of me, too. I got them to feel each other up when they came out for lunch, and at times I even told them what I wanted them to say to me. I didn't do it on purpose; I just couldn't help myself.
This past May, Sally decided to give me a present to celebrate two and a half years since she stopped fucking me altogether. She said she wanted to make love with me! The result was... a disaster. Later on she told Ted that it was "like fucking an ironing board," I was so stiff and unresponsive. For me, I could barely stay hard enough to finish. I kept thinking that I should be a great lover for her, to show her that I could do anything Ted could do, and it was absolutely terrible. Sally was kind, and cuddled me after I came, but neither of us thought it had been a great experience.
And so it was that two weeks later I found myself sitting outside the bedroom door, listening to my wife fuck her lover. I heard them moaning and groaning, crying out their pleasure. I heard him cum -- loudly. I heard her cum, bouncing the bed so hard that I thought the floor would break. Soon after, I heard them fuck again, and I heard his groans increasing in pitch until he sounded like a little boy in pain. Then he came, and suddenly he was no longer a little boy, but a grown man bellowing out his orgasm. Then, yes, SHE came again, too. And all that was before lunch!
In the silence after their second round, a powerful thought struck me: he is SO much better at sex than I am, that I am lucky they let me sit outside their door when they are together. I looked down at my cock which I had been stroking, and which was now getting soft even though I hadn't cum in days, and I remembered the sounds I had just heard. Believe me, it was not a proud moment. But it was an important one.
At that moment I realized that I AM a cuckold, in fact and by nature. I understood that we had not come to the hotel to turn me on; we were there so Sally could fuck a MAN. I was filled with shame but also with a sense of calm: all of a sudden I knew I was where I was supposed to be, outside the bedroom door while my wife fucked HIM. I knew I would be there to make them lunch and to clean up the dishes when they were done, and then I would return to my seat outside the door when they went back to bed together. When they were done I would thank Ted and take Sally home as a loving husband -- a loving CUCKOLD -- should do.
If you're not a cuckold, the paragraph you just read makes no sense at all. But it made sense to me, and it led to an important decision.
After that date, I told Ted and Sally that I was done topping from the bottom. I thanked them for allowing me to be in the hotel suite with them, and I said that whatever they wanted to do on their dates would be fine with me. I thanked them -- each of them -- for cuckolding me, and I asked them to let me know if I started to try to take control again. They were surprised, pleased and, I think, a little doubtful that I would be able to let go.
They made a date for last Thursday. As always I made the hotel reservation at our "regular place." In an email I asked Ted if there was anything I could do to make their date better for him, and he said he'd like me to get him a bagel to have for breakfast when he arrived. I told him that the hotel's bagels were terrible, but I would be honored to bring him one from a great place near our home. I asked if that was all and he said, "Just bring me your wife and stay out of our way." Shuddering, I said I could do that, too.
I really don't think that many people consider buying bagels to be erotic, and I never had before. But I did on Wednesday afternoon. After the bagels I went to Wegman's and bought lunch for both of them as I had done for all their earlier dates. Even there, a wonderful sense of purpose made the experience feel different: no tension, no thought about what I wanted them to do or say. I was the cuckold, running errands to make my wife's date with her lover as perfect as I could. I might not be able to please her in bed, but I could definitely please her -- and him - before and after they went to bed.
The week before their date had been incredibly busy for both of us, so we didn't have time to talk about it in advance. I felt bad about that, but kept reminding myself that SHE was the one calling the shots, not me. When we drove to the hotel on Wednesday night she had a major headache (of course I believed her -- we weren't going to fuck anyway!), so even when we checked in we didn't talk about sex. I got her some Advil, put something she liked on the TV, and discretely went into the other room to masturbate as I thought about the coming events. When I returned to the bedroom after jerking off (but not cumming), she was asleep. I folded the covers over her, thought about being angry that she hadn't done anything to help me prepare for their date, and decided that I should let it go and feel bad about myself, not about her. It worked, and I even managed to get a few fitful hours' sleep.
When my alarm went off in the morning I shut it off quickly so Sally could sleep longer. I jumped in the shower and as I washed I talked to myself about... well, about who and what I am.
"I brought my wife here because she has a date with her lover today. When he arrives I'll open the door for him, then stand aside while he goes to her. I'll sit with them and talk politely until they are ready for bed, then I'll say I hope they have a good time while THAT MAN takes MY WIFE to bed. I'll sit outside their door and listen while she gives him everything, and when they want to take a break I'll make them lunch. When they are finished I'll take my wife, filled with his sperm, home to our house. And I'll be sure to thank them both for letting me be here today. I will NOT interfere, because it's not about me. They are lovers. I'm a cuckold."
Ted was on time. Just after 9 a.m. he knocked on the door and I let him in. Sally was sitting on the couch in a black negligee... and nothing else. As she reached up to kiss him I saw her pubic hair, and as always happens at the beginning of their dates, I had a momentary thought that I should remind her we have company and she's exposed. It only takes a second for me to remember that Ted knows what she looks like, and that she's dressed -- rather, undressed -- that way for HIM. But it never fails to tie my stomach in a knot that won't unravel for hours.
I dutifully served breakfast to each of them, and even went down to the lobby to get hot coffee for them. I know I break several land speed records whenever I go out on an errand, as I hate missing even a moment of the short time they spend in the living room. But when I returned they were still eating, and they took their time over coffee, too. Finally, Ted reached for Sally and began kissing her as his hand started wandering over her negligee. He loves my wife's tits, and he quickly moved from feeling her through the fabric to sliding the right strap off her shoulder.
I sat in the chair facing them as Ted exposed my wife's right breast. As soon as her nipple came into view he let out an appreciative gasp, as if he had never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life, and he lowered his mouth to suck on it. When his mouth closed around it, Sally's head rolled back and her eyes closed as she enjoyed the sensation. Then, as her lover continued to suck on one nipple and caress the other, she opened her eyes, looked at me and smiled.
Sally and I talk about everything. Nothing is off limits between us, so we are as comfortable speaking to each other as anyone I know. Nevertheless, when I saw my wife smiling at me as her lover sucked on her naked tit, I was speechless. Her look was a combination of pleasure, comfort, satisfaction and love, and I would not have broken the mood even if I had been able to think of something to say. I tried to smile back at her, but I was filled with excitement, pain, humiliation, shame and yes, love, too. I must have looked sick to my stomach, but she understood.
It was Sally who finally broke the silence, but not by speaking to me. She pulled Ted's face to hers, kissed him deeply and said, "You can have the other one, too, but I think we should leave him alone for that."
Ted stood up immediately and helped her to her feet. They put their arms around each other's waists and said, "Paul, we're leaving you now."
The last image I had of my wife was her standing there with one breast exposed, arm in arm with her lover as they walked away from me.
I usually rip off my clothes and head for "my place" outside the bedroom door as soon as I hear the door close. This time it took a few minutes for me to catch my breath. Sure, I had seen him undress her in the living room before, but it was always after I had asked them to do that for me. This time I hadn't said or even hinted anything; I just watched. What I saw was my wife's lover touching her as if she were his; as if her husband didn't matter at all. Not only couldn't I speak; I could hardly breathe.
By the time I got settled outside their door, the sounds of their lovemaking were already in full swing. I heard Ted moaning and groaning, so I assumed that she was going down on him. When I heard a loud kissing noise at the same time as he moaned, I knew she was kissing his cock. Clearly she was getting him VERY excited, as his noises grew in volume and in pitch. Then the kissing sounds were replaced with "that sound" -- the special intake of breath which I've described before; the one Sally makes when Ted's cock slides into her pussy. As he moaned and she gasped I remembered why I was sitting outside the door: because I've never been able to make my wife feel the way he does -- the way he was doing right now.
They fucked intensely for a short time, until the unmistakable sound of Ted cumming filled my ears as he filled my wife. I don't think I will ever get used to that sound; nothing sounds like an orgasm, and hearing the pleasure which my wife makes him feel tears my heart out, while simultaneously driving me so close to the edge that I have to stop masturbating to keep from cumming along with him. This time it almost seemed I could hear him pumping his semen into her... and as I learned later on, that is exactly what I was hearing.
Ted had barely finished cumming when I heard Sally's vibrator start up. As she got more and more excited, Ted encouraged her with words which I could not make out, but which were clearly meant to make her feel beautiful, and sexy, and safe in his arms. Ted gets SO excited when he feels Sally getting off, and I could measure her excitement by the tone of his voice. When she finally came I heard a mixture of her gasps, his groans and the bed shaking, all of which went on for a VERY long time.
I was so caught up in the experience that it was only in the quiet which followed that I felt cuckolded again. I realized that HE had just seen and felt MY WIFE orgasm in his arms; that he had seen her face, felt her body, held her skin against his skin as she surrendered to the pleasure they were sharing. It is such a strange feeling to know that another man knows the most intimate secrets about my wife, and as Ted often reminds me, he even knows secrets that she has never revealed to me. Whatever they might have done on earlier dates because I asked them to, I knew now that what they did together in bed was because THEY wanted to. My wife wanted to fuck Ted. My wife wanted Ted to cum in her. My wife wanted to cum in Ted's arms.
My reverie of self-flagellation was short-lived, as Ted's moaning stopped me cold. It had been just a few minutes since he had cum, so I expected a long period of quiet talking. Yet there was no question that Sally was sucking his cock again, and that he was enjoying it... and her.
More surprising was when Sally made "that sound" again, and Ted's moaning got louder -- fast. I heard the bed moving rhythmically, and Ted's groans matched the sound of the bed. They were fucking again! Now, Ted is over 60 years old, so the fact that he could get hard again so fast brought back my "he's so much better than I am" theme with a vengeance. And when he cried out "Ohhh, I'm cumming!!" it cut through me like a knife. In less than an hour they fucked twice, he came in my wife twice, and she had a long, huge orgasm. While I masturbated myself raw, listening outside the door.
I expected them to be quiet now, and they were. And were, and were. That first hour had been intense (for everyone), but I didn't hear much for the whole next hour. I thought they might be sleeping, but there was just enough movement and quiet conversation to tell me that they were relaxing together. It went on so long that I lost my erection and couldn't get it back, so I slipped away from the door and went out to the living room.
In all the cuckolding stories, including mine, what you read is mostly about the high points; the special moments that knock your socks off. But cuckolding is mostly about emptiness and shame; days or weeks, or months, or even years with no sex; sitting outside the lovers' bedroom, or sitting at home while your wife fucks another man; watching porn and imagining what it's like to make a woman feel that way, imagining what it's like to have a woman want you that way; jerking off and trying to pretend it's as good as sex. Or reading the newspaper because your wife and her lover are spending quiet hours together without a single thought about you.
After a half an hour, I was bored. After an hour I was sulking. It took all the self-control I had not to knock on their door and ask them what was going on. But I reminded myself over and over that I was doing what a cuckold is supposed to do: sit and wait, while the lovers enjoy each other.
I read the whole USA Today, which is not saying much. I even read the sections I wasn't interested in, just to have something to do. I debated about turning on the TV, but I thought it would disturb them (but didn't I really WANT to disturb them? I didn't do it, anyway). My mind wandered, so at first I thought I was hearing things when Ted called me. I raced back to the bedroom door and asked what he wanted; he said, "Come in; Sally needs her coffee reheated."
I opened the door and tried to take in everything in front of me: Sally's negligee on the floor at my feet, Ted's clothes thrown over the chair, the bedspread and sheet (which I had painstakingly made up while Sally was getting dressed) looked like a wrestling match had taken place in them, and the lovers -- Sally and Ted, my wife and THAT MAN -- were cuddled together under the sheet.
Ted handed me the coffee cup and said, "Sally didn't get to finish this before. Would you please warm it up for her?"
A simple request. One made thousands of times every day. But as I took the cup from my wife's lover and left THEIR bedroom, I realized how excited I was to be asked to do something for them. Just having them talk to me, acknowledging that I existed in their private, sexual world even for something as mundane as reheating a cup of coffee, revived my spirit AND my penis.
I brought the cup back to them, knocking on the door even though it was partly open. It is clear to all of us that the bedroom is their place, their space, and I would never enter it without their permission. When the said to come in I walked around the bed and placed the cup on Sally's night table. I was just turning to leave when Ted said, "Your wife is a WONDERFUL lover."
I looked at him -- at them -- and saw them lying together in bed. Sally was on her back and Ted's right arm was under her head. He was on his side, his body pressed tightly against hers under the sheet. His left hand was caressing her breasts, which were exposed above the sheet. Before I could think about responding, he continued.
"I was just saying that Sally gets better and better. She was wonderful when we started 11 years ago, but she just keeps getting better. She is more open, more giving, more adventurous each time. She is an AMAZING lover -- do you know that?"
While he had ended with a question, it was obvious he was not looking for an answer. He turned to Sally and kissed her deeply, his hand never stopping its exploration of her tits. He rubbed them, traced their outlines against her chest, squeezed her nipples ...
I stood there and masturbated. When he finished speaking I thought I should say something, but I had no words. Think about it: What DOES a husband say to his wife's lover, when he tells you what a great lover she is while he feels her up in their bed? I was speechless, and Ted allowed a few minutes of uncomfortable silence as they kissed and I jerked off. Finally he said, "Okay, enough for you. Please leave us alone."
I wanted to stay. I DESPERATELY wanted to stay. I had just spent an hour doing nothing, hearing nothing and seeing nothing, and I tried to hold on to this exciting scene as long as possible. But I knew better than to ignore Ted's instructions, so without pausing in my masturbating I walked to the hallway and closed the door behind me. I figured they would be out for lunch soon, anyway, so I headed back to the living room to see if there was any part of the paper I hadn't read yet.
Just before I got to the end of the hallway, I heard a noise. It couldn't be, I thought; he had cum twice already. But I didn't move (except my hand stroking my cock), and I listened. Sure enough, there it was again -- there HE was again. Definitely a groan, a sex noise. By the time I got back to my place outside the door, it was clear that Sally was sucking Ted's cock again. A little conversation, a little laughter, and then once again, "that sound." Ted let out a moan as Sally sucked in her breath, and I knew he was fucking my wife. THREE times in two hours? Or had I been mistaken -- had he fucked her earlier, but not cum?