A Cuckold's Diary Ch. 19byPaul Pines©
Chapter 19 -- "Dear Paul"
This is the letter my wife, Sally, wrote to me after her lover came to our house for the first time. If you don't like cuckolding, then please don't read this -- it will upset you. If you read it anyway, please don't write to tell me how much it upset you!
I still wonder why the time with Ted was so wonderful and so ... easy. I dreaded having him in the house and it turned out to be better that I ever expected and yes, it was good to have great sex in our bed... something I haven't felt in many of the years we have been married. Being in bed with him, fucking him, being held and caressed by him felt SO good -- so unique -- that all I could think was, "what was I thinking when I avoided this?"
I never thought I could feel this way in bed, and I certainly couldn't expect it after all these years of dashed expectations. I thought it was me, but apparently it wasn't given the obvious reactions of my body. Lying there, wrapped in his arms after we both came (the first time), I felt good about what we were doing, and sad that you could never do that for me... or with me. Do you know why I call you to come in when Ted and I are together? Not just to show you what you are missing, but hoping beyond hope that you might figure out how it's done. You may be reconciled to this "non-sex" sex as long as I make sure that we find time each day to point out how clueless you are in bed, but frankly, it's pretty dry for me between sessions with Ted, and unlike you, I don't get anything out of abstinence except, well, abstinence. I want you to see how I feel when you see me in Ted's arms: I want you to see how he never stops touching me; I wanted you to see him holding me, and me reaching back to stroke him.
Then I realize I don't want you there, because the familiar worry creeps in: "What if he thinks he can take me back? What if he gets tired of this arrangement ad we have to go back to what was in between dates? What if I don't get to fuck Ted again?"
I actually didn't think about what would happen after he came the second time, squirting his cum all over my tits; I just invited you back in as quickly as I could so I wouldn't gross myself out. I mean, who in hell wants to lick the lover's cum off his wife's tits? What kind of man does this without completely demeaning himself? What kind of man are you?? Who eats cum? Women, gay men, and, I guess, cuckolds. But not MEN. You are not a woman, and I have it on good experience that you are not gay, so you must be a cuckold. Whatever you are, after watching you lick up Ted's cum after he and I had sex, I cannot think of you the same way anymore. That experience changed the way I see you.
It's going to feel strange going back to the hotel because we had this experience in our house, in our bed. Even the feel of the sheets makes me remember how good it felt not to have your bumbling efforts - and yes, sometimes frankly painful efforts - repeated. I was sick and tired of reliving the past, but now, I associate sex in our bed with Ted, not with you.
I need you to remember what we looked like when I dove under the covers and started sucking on Ted's cock. I want you to remember what it sounded like when you heard him moaning, knowing what I was doing for him, and to him, and with him. As I felt him grow and harden in my mouth I wanted to show you what you have lost. Did it HURT you, or were you so excited the thrill overcame the hurt?
I want you to see me giving him pleasure that you have never felt. Even without seeing you, because I was under the covers and loving every minute of it, I knew that everything I was doing to him was traveling like electricity from his cock to his face to your gut: "This is what I do for Ted and not you."
When you asked Ted to pull down the covers so you could see me, I didn't feel at all self-conscious. Actually, I felt inspired. I made love to his cock right in front of you, and I kept thinking, "Don't ever forget what I look like with Ted's cock in my mouth." I don't think I was giving expression to all the years of sexual frustration I felt in our bed... but maybe I was.
Things have changed for us and I need you to understand the changes. Paul, you are a wonderful husband, a great father and my bestest friend. None of that has changed at all. But after Sunday night, I just cannot think of you as a man who can make me feel like a woman. I am comfortable seeing you naked, but "comfortable" doesn't mean excited. You don't turn me on at all. All I have to do is remember what it looked like and felt like having you lick up my lover's cum, and the very thought of sex with you turns me off completely. It has been 3 ½ years since we stopped having sex on a regular basis, and as I said to you last week, sex between us has been over for a long, long time... and now I know without any doubt that it is over FOREVER. I used to imagine what it might be like to be one of those couples who love to fuck each other. I don't anymore. I know it will never work that way between us.
And yes, I'll still honor my promise of a mercy fuck on our anniversary each year, but you need to know that it will be a gesture of friendship, not of sex. We both know that what I give you on our anniversary fuck isn't even a fraction of the passion I give him every time. But you can get off in me once a year, as long as you accept that you can't have more. Ever.
Remember: Ted makes me wet -- every time. He makes me excited every time. He makes me cum -- HARD -- every time. And maybe most important of all, he makes me want him. Every time.
And since Ted loves my breasts so much, they are now off limits to you except by invitation. When I ask you to wash them in the shower, or put moisturizing cream on them, you are welcome to do it, but otherwise, you need to stop. My breasts are, frankly not just some of my best parts but the very essence of my being a woman, and I need you to stop pretending to be something you are not by touching them.
I know my breasts were the first thing you noticed about me, and I know you love looking at them even after all these years. You are welcome to keep looking, but when you first touched them I thought they were being touched by a man. Now that you are a friend -- my bestest friend -- I want my sex to be for the man who turns me on.
This will be hard for you, but it is important. The next time you see me with Ted, and see how his hands never leave my breasts, you will know why I love that.
Something really has changed, and both of us need to realize that. I do love you, Paul. I love you so much that even learning you cannot satisfy me sexually will not tear us apart.
But it will change things. It already has. It hurts me, too, but somehow we have found a way to grow our love in spite of all the pain.
I love you forever, my friend.