A Cuck's Journal

There was my wife in her graduation robes — the same clothes she wore the night she asked me if I wanted to move in together.

"She said she realized something important, but I couldn't take her seriously with all that cum on her face."

Much like the beautiful miraculous sunny smile on that rainy day, she wore a beautiful genuine smile as she drooled heavily on his cock. As Jasper perfectly described, her mascara ran down her cheeks as a mixture of cum and tears settled on her skin. .

The corners of her eyes were damp and swollen as well.

The way they always looked whenever she cried.

What caught my attention — more than anything physical, however, was this emotional tangibility in the picture. It seemed as if a massive weight on her soul was suddenly unburdened along with her tears. Her beautiful hazel eyes stared up at the camera with a look of euphoria, pupils enlarged enough for me to see. As if sucking his big cock gave her an equal amount of pleasure.

Honestly, looking at the picture was beyond uncomfortable. Not exactly because she's my wife — though I can't rule it out.

But more to do with the fact that it's a little like intrusively peeking at a helpless woman who was praying to her God in front of the altar.

Like many of the religious zealots I've met, Cathy had this single-tracked obsession in her eyes. She sucked his cock voraciously like it was medicine. Like it could save her.

The way I always wanted to.

Jasper took his phone back.

"She's a pathological thrill seeker, your wife. She uses my cock as some sort of cigarette; something you blow to rewind a little and get rid of stress. She betrays you every day. Do you really want to be married to a slut like that?"

My shoulders slackened, feeling a sense of weakness in my body.

My mind, however, in worse shape.

I felt empty. The same way Cathy probably did, knowing everyone she loved never gave a fuck about her or what she needed.

Her biological father. The step-dads who left one by one. Even her mom.

And so she coped with it the only way she knew how —

"Not complaining, though. Free pussy is pussy. Cathy sure has one of the tightest ones. It helps that she's down for anything too. Before her, I've never seen a woman so willing to humiliate herself...."

— by degrading herself. Hating every part of her existence in the mirror.

Because part of her thought she deserved it. That it was her fault they left.

Tears fell from my eyes. All of the feelings I've been repressing the past few days burst out all at once.

I cried in front of the man who's been fucking my wife behind my back. Not because of his insults. Not even because of my feelings.

But because of her. I cried for Cathy.

Because I knew what it felt like to be unloved — to feel as if the person you loved didn't love you back enough to stay.

Or loved you enough not to fuck some other guy behind your back.

I thought I was enough. I loved her enough for the both of us. Why wasn't it enough?

I tried to stop the tears, but they continued to fall without any signs of stopping.

Trying to rub off my watery eyes with my wrists, I caught a glimpse of Jasper. The glint in his eyes was gone. So was the smile.

He turned quiet, only staring at me.

A few minutes of sobbing ensued until I was finally able to stop.

"Fucking hell," he muttered under his breath before.... laughing.

"You really cried? Shit. I kinda feel bad. I didn't know you were gonna sob that hard, dude."

He spoke, trying not to chuckle as he looked at me, "Maybe I went too far with the insults — "

I interrupted him sarcastically, "An insincere apology? Great. Things are okay again."

"I'm being completely real here. It is funny, but I really do feel bad. A little bit."

I looked him in the eyes. For some reason, I believed the man. Despite the fact that he found the situation funny.

Still, he was a scumbag.

"Now you have a conscience?"

He countered, "I don't regret Cathy, if that's what you're asking. I know I'm a fucking asshole. I own that shit."

I clicked my tongue in response before he continued, "I just didn't plan on provoking you to the point of breaking. To be honest, I always thought the circumstances of you finding out would be way different. So I'll admit the jokes probably weren't the right thing to do — if there even is a right thing."

"I didn't cry because of you," I spat.

"I'd ask, but I'm not that interested in hearing about your feelings. Just fucking take the apology, man."

"I don't expect you to, and I'm not taking your stupid apology. You'll be back to being bored in a few minutes before giving me more details about my wife."

"Well, you look like you need it. Given how she risks the chance of losing you just to keep bouncing on my cock during your wedding," he jeered defensively.

"See?"

He shrugged. "Habits die hard. I guess you're right. I'm really not that sorry."

Jasper added after a while, "It's hard to be, given how good and tight she feels. Like a custom fleshlight for my own personal use. Oops. I fucking did it again. How's that?

He delivered it with a ridiculing sneer, waiting for some kind of laughter from me like a stand-up comedian. He was obviously baiting me.

And I'm not proud of it, but it was definitely working.

"Can you stop talking about Cathy like that? She's more than that...!" My words trailed off in the end. It sounded as if I was convincing myself too.

Still, the way he talked about Cathy was infuriating and I don't approve of it.

Even if she loved it herself.

He cleared his ears. "Yeah, yeah. She talks. Not interested."

I glared at him as the atmosphere turned heavy and silent. For our table, not the shop. There were definitely more people than when we first started. Frankly, it was starting to gain a little more crowd than I would have liked.

Jasper seemed to dislike it as well.

"We should go," he said. More of a statement than a suggestion. I stood up with him.

We got out of the shop shortly after and walked in silence. I didn't know where he wanted to go, but I followed him aimlessly.

I broke the silence first. "Can I ask you a question?"

He slowed down his pace and nodded.

"Shoot."

Analyzing his expression, I spoke, "I know it seems like a dumb thing to fixate on after all this, but were you there when she had me on the phone in Rome?"

The man squinted his eyes, trying to remember.

He snapped his fingers.

"Ah! Wedding anniversary, right? Yeah. She lied through her teeth. It's what you tend to do when you're secretly fucking some other guy in the hotel and you promised to call your husband in the morning."

"You guys weren't.... traveling back and forth for work?"

Jasper derisively laughed, "Oh, yeah! She told you that to explain why she was shaking, right? God, she could barely hold the camera while I was screwing her from the back. Honestly, I didn't think it would work. She zoomed in on her front camera so you wouldn't see anything, but she was all red and sweaty still. She was straddling on top of me, for God's sake! How gullible are you? Why did it work?"

"It didn't. Until I saw Bella."

He stopped walking and stared. "Because you can't wrap your head around the concept of a threesome?"

I was speechless.

"Not with my wife and her model friend, no."

"I get it. Threesomes are probably this untouchable concept for you, huh?"

"Let me guess. It's not for you," I blurted out, fighting the urge to gnash my teeth at the pity briefly reflected in the man's eyes.

He replied with a laugh, shrugging his arms, "A normal fucking Saturday is what it is."

"How'd it happen?" I cautiously asked.

Don't look at me like that. I was still a man. His stories, if not about my wife, would have been stories I'd love to hear about in excruciating detail. Can you blame me? Every man has fantasized at least once about having multiple women at their beck and call.

I reckon it's rooted in the way society teaches men about sex. We're taught to view it as some sort of ego booster. Something to take and achieve, as opposed to women where it's something to be given.

The man will take and dominate. The woman will give and submit.

I never once thought of it like that with Cathy — and I thought I was on the right track, but their sexual dynamic seemed oddly similar to it.

And for some unknown reason, Cathy was inexplicably drawn to it. The primality of it all. The violence. The craving.

Enough that she'll cheat on me for it anyway.

Down on memory lane, Jasper's eyes beamed as he recollected the events prior to that day, "Fuck. I especially remember that morning in Rome. Wifey was wearing a black g-string so thin, you could see it partition her asshole in between if you spread her cheeks wide enough. Hot as fuck. Woke up to that sight inches away from my face. Have you seen Cathy twerk? She can bounce that ass like a fucking pornstar, man! I should know since I've fucked pornstars. Anyway, after some intense morning sex — which you interrupted with your needy phone call, Bella taught her some makeup tips. Not the ones you put on your face, no. Pink shades on your asshole for aesthetic, blush on your nipples, things like that. Apparently, women have this whitening product that they apply around their pussies too. Gets rid of the dark skin around it, which many women seem to want. I felt so screwed over. It took me this many years to find out most women weren't actually pink down there — even models and actresses. Got me thinking how many "naturally" pink pussies I've actually fucked. Hey, maybe your hot wife's the first. She's naturally got this beautiful salmon pink — it's crazy. Her pussy's a looker for sure. I've never seen Bella so jealous."

Part of me felt this really twisted sense of pride. I knew how special my wife was in that aspect. Seeing the most intimate parts of her body can still make me cum hands-free even after all these years.

But that was a lot of information. G-strings? My wife hated lingerie. Twerking? She's never done that for me either. It felt like I was hearing about a completely different woman.

Discovering the parts of my wife I had never met.

For the first time, I felt grateful that Jasper was such a chatterbox when the subject interested him. Of course, his uncontrollable babbling had a limited scope in terms of subject. I had only ever seen him talk like that about three main topics:

Women. Yachts. And strangely enough? Photography. The man genuinely had the passion for it.

Abruptly, my wife's ass was added to the list.

I imagine those topics have probably blurred a lot together over these past couple years. My pure and innocent Cathy smoking weed like a natural as she lets her ass get pummeled down hard while he took a goddamn picture.

Whether I wanted to admit it or not, Jasper was an amazing photographer. God only knows how gorgeous Cathy must've looked in his pictures.

Most people wouldn't believe this, but I had every picture of Cathy. Every single one. That's why I have so many photo albums back at the house. I prided myself in knowing their every context and where they were taken. At least I thought I did.

With the new discoveries of her illicit cheating, however, comes with the awful realization of knowing some of them were captured during sexual acts with another man. I wondered which ones were those. Aside from most of our wedding pictures, of course.

I felt sick just thinking about it.

On the other hand, I still wanted to collect the ones I haven't seen before. More than anything. I wanted to see Cathy unadulterated, completely in her sexual form — a state only observable through this man's eyes and camera.

My legs abruptly stopped walking, left behind by Jasper as I pondered over this sickness. I felt abnormally twisted. She's fucking some other man and I'm here thinking if there were pictures of it.

Jasper looked back when he noticed.

"You know men like you aren't that rare, you know?"

I rolled my eyes. Here he goes again.

"I know. You mentioned it a million times. You're a different species. I'm average — "

"That's not what I meant. I'm talking about cucks," he interrupted.

I stared at him. "What?"

"Men who get turned on at the thought of their wife fucking somebody else."

"I know what cucks are. Fucking messed up is what it is. No one actually feels that way," I retorted.

He answered back, "Well, they do. I personally don't understand it, but it's a reality for some."

"Well, it's definitely not me, Jasper. If it's not too obvious to your fucking eyes, I'm not liking this. This isn't fun for me. My heart — "

I held my chest. The ache gnawing at it.

I didn't have to say anything else to express my feelings. I figured the hurt in my voice was enough.

He responded by pointing at my crotch.

I looked. There was a bulging tent on my pants.

I was hard.

From hearing the way my wife betrays me.

"The process isn't exactly painless. The point is, you get turned on by it anyway."

Glaring at his eyes, I almost shouted, "Why are you telling me this? How does this help me right now? My life is falling apart."

"It doesn't have to." He shrugged.

"You think it's a choice? That I simply choose to be fucking sad over my inevitable divorce?"

"That's the fucking point, moron. Why do you have to get a divorce if you enjoy it?"

I said, fully shouting this time, "Because I don't, okay? None of this feels good!"

"Bullshit. It hurts, but you know deep down what you're feeling right now."

I heaved in anger.

"You keep asking all these questions. Tell me, why do you think that is? You want details. You like to imagine it. Why? Don't think I don't see the glint in your eye when I talk shit about your wife. You're exactly like all the other dickless wads I've cucked."

I bit my lip, still in denial. My cock twitched at his every word.

"They say realizing it comes with self-loathing. Sounds familiar, right? Relish in it. The pleasure is somewhere in that pain, just the way your wife likes it."

I turned quiet. My fingernails dug into my palms. The realization eating away at me.

I asked him, "Why are you trying to help my marriage? I don't understand what you have to gain from this."

He laughed before replying nonchalantly, "Because banging a taken girl is way more fun than banging some single chick, that's why!"

"Why? Why do you think that? Aren't you fucking ashamed of the lives you ruin? Don't you want to settle down with a girl someday? Someone who's kind, smart, funny. Someone you actually love. What would she feel if she knew you've done things like this?"

"You're funny. Talking about shit like love. Have you seen your wife? Did that stop her from fucking me?"

I turned quiet.

"Didn't think so. Why? Because love is fucking cheap. It means fucking squat, cuck."

He continued, obviously disgusted with the word, "You know how many married women I've actually fucked? Women who swore they loved their husbands as they cheated on him with me? I can't keep count."

He gestured for me to look him in the eye with his fingers and iterated, "It's a joke. Love is a joke. You tiptoe around it until she's yours for the taking. I can assure you, any woman will break with enough persuasion. Love does nothing to prevent that. It's a social construct. What it does biologically for women is to ensure they crave to be impregnated. Fucked and leashed to a cock worthy of their submission. Nothing more, nothing less. For men like me, love is nothing but a fucking sweetener. A condiment, if you will. Cheating sex for your dopamine receptors. The cherry on top. And I'm glad it exists simply because it feels good knowing your dick is more important to her than the guy she married. That's the only point it has."

I listened to his lengthy monologue and shook my head afterwards.

"You're wrong."

He sighed, "I don't expect you to understand. You're a cuck. In denial of who he is, mind you."

"I love Cathy. With all my heart and soul. That's not a backdrop for something else. Love is the purpose of living. I'm sorry if someone hurt you in the past. You don't deserve whatever it is they did to you."

His eyes shook in a mixture of shock and anger, unbelieving of what he had just heard.

"You don't know fucking shit."

"I do. Because I love her."

He smirked. "Then prove it."

I stared at his fiery eyes who threatened to swallow me whole.

"Stay with the bitch. Love her while she treats you like trash compared to my cock. Keep loving her without getting anything in return. Watch the love of your life worship someone else with her mouth. You love her, right? If it is, as you say, 'the purpose of living,' I'm sure your so-called love can endure at least that, right?"

"It can... and it will," I replied calmly. Incensed by the lack of uncertainty in my unwavering eyes, he stormed off to his car.

"Keep your misguided confidence up and running, cuck. I'll see you in two days. I'll break her in half right in front of you," he said before driving away.

I stood there for a good few minutes.

The truth is, I wasn't confident.

You give me one man who can stay confident right after finding out his wife has been cheating on him for years.

At this point, doubts were all that filled my head. And Jasper seemed to make it his mission to break my wife once and for all.

Not that he ever had any problems with it so far. He had an impressive track record. All I had were countless proof my wife preferred him on the bed.

Regardless, I calmly went back home. Quietly closing the door behind me, I walked up to our room.

There was Cathy, reading a book. At first, I thought it was about law. Excitement engulfed the entirety of my head at the thought of her returning back to me the way I met her.

As I came closer, I realized it was a Western Lifestyle magazine with her in it.

She was wearing a cowboy hat, her smoking body clothed in a sensual yellow plaid that barely covered her belly button and denim shorts. I could almost hear the moans of a thousand men jerking off to the picture.

She was probably a sexual awakening to thousands of teenage boys around the world.

More importantly, I knew the clothes she was wearing. It was one of the garments she was wearing when she came home from her trip to Texas.

Mumbling the words as she read, Cathy was painting her nails black.

"Cathy," I called.

She looked up and greeted, "Hi, honey. Where have you been?"

"In the bookstore. I got you this."

I took out a book about environmental law.

"Oh. Thanks, babe. I'll read it when I have the time," she said, subtly disinterested as she went back to her personal manicure.

I gulped. Cathy laid on her stomach, showcasing her pretty buttocks as she wore a lingerie under her short skirt. Her long legs were playfully moving to the faint music playing over the background.

I jumped at the bed and kissed her.

"Babe, I'm doing my nails!" she said lightheartedly, trying to run away from me.

"I'll do them for you later. How's that?" Cathy could probably tell I was in an unusual state. She looked at me before readily agreeing as she shook her butt.

"Okay, okay... hurry, okay?"

I wasted no time unbuckling my belt before entering her in one swoop.

She moaned, raising her ass a little bit higher to take me in more comfortably.

"Fuck!" I cursed under my breath, fucking her as hard as I could with the thought of her pussy housing another man's cock hovering over my mind like a net.

I bet Jasper was more familiar with her insides. He made her lose control. He made her moan like a fucking pig.

"You're so rough today, baby!" she cooed seductively.

I want her to lose control. I want her to moan like how she does with him.