Cuckold Defined: That's Me

I didn't know the term, but I knew the characteristics I possessed, so I went to Google and typed them in. I wrote: Men who want their wives to have sex with other men. I hit return. There it was: CUCKOLD. That was me. I found out what cuckold meant after I realized it defined me. At the site entitled SEXUAL DEVIANCIES it read: A man who wishes for his wife to be sexually unfaithful, to be sexually active with other men. An individual who chooses for his mate to have sex with others, called bulls. These husbands who are defined as cuckolds, often want to be humiliated and dominated."

I had never acted that out, but I had fantasized about doing it for years, desired it, and even dreamed about it. I went looking for the term that described how I felt, and I found it on Google. There I was in blue and white described on my laptop.

I had never had the nerve to reveal that fact about me to my wife, Claire, or propose that she participate in such things. I thought she would probably laugh at me, at best, or get angry that I would want her to do something so depraved. Our sex was unsatisfying for me because I yearned to see her dominated by an aggressive male who took her, satisfied her, fucked her, ravished her, and made me watch.

I understood how aberrant that whole thing sounded, how perverted, even maybe sick, but it truly was what I wanted, what I fantasized about endlessly, and hoped for. Finally, I got to the point that I couldn't evade it any longer, and I revealed myself to her one night as we lay next to one another in bed.

"Can I tell you something about what I would really, really like, something about me I don't think you know?" I asked as we both stared into the dark. Of course, she said I could. So, I explained the term. I told her I thought it described me perfectly. She listened without saying anything. I said I always imagined such a thing getting started with us by my watching her being kissed by an aggressive bull at a New Years Eve party. I explained my fantasy, describing how I thought I would feel watching her, how excited I thought it would make me to see her being passionately kissed by another man who flaunted his desire for her in front of everyone. I would hear him assertively say: "I want to fuck your wife and you have to watch, helplessly, like the miserable wimp you are."

I explained how I had found the definition on Google and felt it described me perfectly. I told her I loved her, but I had this desire to watch her being aggressively fucked. Clearly, the concept was new to her. I wasn't sure she had even heard the word cuckold before. I was worried about how she would react to the new part of me I had just introduced her to. Would she rebel and find me nauseating? Would she decide she didn't want to be around me anymore?

"Well," she said, and by her tone I expected her to tell me how disgusted it made her, how disappointed she was in me, but she surprised me when she said, "That doesn't sound so bad. Actually, I have thought about something like that before," she said softly, astonishing me with that answer. "I sometimes fantasize about having sex with a stranger myself. It's true," she said, turning on the light and looking up at me. "Sometimes I masturbate at night about being fucked by an assertive lover.

"You know what," she said. "Sometimes I dream of sucking the giant cock of a big black man I don't even know. I imagine swallowing large amounts of his cum as he ejaculates over my tongue, telling me to swallow it all, demanding I drink it. I also dream of letting him come on my breasts."

I had never heard her talk like that before, never heard her use the word 'cock', or say the word 'fuck,' or even had I ever thought she had lascivious thoughts like those. I didn't realize she had sexual desires beyond conventional, staid, "housewife-duty" kind of sex. She was telling me about desires I never expected from her, never saw coming, never would have imagined.

"Me too," I said. "I guess the black symbolizes sexual power. When I think of it, I hear him telling you to drink all his semen. He tells me in my fantasies I have to watch," I told her, my voice quivering with excitement. "He doesn't ask, he just tells me. You never really know what is in someone's mind, unless they tell you," I said. She smiled and nodded.

"I guess not," she agreed. "I never would have thought... " she began, but stopped.

"Yeah, right," I said. "Me either."

We looked at one another for a long time, drinking in what each of us had just revealed, processing the new knowledge we both had stumbled onto. I took her hand. "What would you like to do about it?" I asked.

"I am not sure," she replied quietly. After a long pause, she said, "I guess, deep down, I'd like to try it. It scares me some, but I think I'd like to see."

"Me too," I said. "The compulsion is very strong. Have you ever heard of cuckold before?" I asked. She shook her head. I explained again what it was, what the sexual website had said. "Have you ever seen that in me?" She said she hadn't.

I own my own company, have an advanced college degree, and did well in school. Most people would see me as secure and capable, not wanting to be dominated, I was sure. But deep down there was a cuckold in me trying to get out. That just wasn't in doubt.

That night we talked until about three am. We each told the other about sexual experiences we had had that were telling, things she had done that surprised her, and certainly were new to me. Like a time she went with someone she'd just met to his apartment and had lascivious, wild, uninhibited sex, and then never saw him again. She told me about when she discovered a neighbor had been watching her undress through her bedroom window, and how she went back the next night and made sure he was watching, then undressed for him. She admitted it had given her feelings that made her wet. She confessed she really liked it and never had done anything like it before.

It was like we were being introduced to new people. Neither of us knew the other one all that well, I realized. I had known her for twenty years, but I had no idea of the person she had just revealed to me. She had been married to me for nearly half of her life, but had no knowledge of who I had introduced her to that night. We had kept ourselves hidden from one another, now we had the chance to get to know each other and accept or reject what we saw.

As we talked, I thought of what these revelations could mean. I pictured us in sexual situations being the people we were revealing. I saw her with a large black man, giving him oral sex while he stood before her. I imagined my previously modest and sexually conservative wife kneeling over him on a bed with his large, black penis in her hand and with her lips over his bulbous tip, gripping his shaft, its length buried deep in her throat.

"Do you think you might ever be able to have sex with someone else?" I asked. Before she answered, she smiled shyly, then nodded. "You have thought about it, right?"

"Yes," she whispered. "Many times. I have brought myself to orgasm by the thought of it, fingering myself as I lay next to you. It is exciting to me, yes. I think I would like to do that. I would even let you watch, if that is what you would like. I have always had a secret person in me who yearns for wild sex. I kept it contained up to now, but I think I want that. Yes, I want to be fucked by a black man. I want to feel a big, thick, black stranger's penis in me. If you want that, then I do too."

My hand shook as I took hers. "I am really not happy not letting myself be who I am," I said. "I have realized I am a cuckold husband, and that is who I would like to let myself be. If you would like to have sex with other men, then that is what I want. It excites me to think about. It turns me on to imagine you with another man's cock inserted deep in your married pussy.

"There are websites for making contacts. You can pick someone, correspond with them and make choices. Check them out and make arrangements. We could take a look and see what we think." I opened my laptop and went to the site. We looked at pictures and read profiles. She read a few of the profiles, nodded, and smiled. "See anyone you like?" I asked.

We had gotten out of bed and I sat at the table with my laptop. She stood next to me. "I think I have to sit down," she said, pulling up a chair. My knees are getting weak. Oh, my," she said, looking at one of the photos. He is rather sexy, isn't he?"

"Not so much for me," I said, "but you like him?"

"There is an address and a number. Should we call him, or send an email and maybe meet him to see what we think?" she said, her voice shaking with emotion.

"Let's meet him. Talk. See what we want to do, okay?"

"Okay," she said softly. Her cheeks reddened and her voice deepened. "I think I would like that."

"You think?" I said.

"I would," she corrected.

We sent an email right then, describing ourselves, including a picture of her. He returned our email in about an hour, told us about himself, saying he would be happy to meet us, and complimented the photo of Claire.

We met Julian at an Applebees in Los Angeles on Western Avenue. He was tall, good looking, and about my age. He looked like a lawyer or a salesman and came over to us and offered his hand. We chatted and he told us he was in education, but didn't go any further than that. He was polite and not at all what I thought of as a bull. He said he had been married, but his wife had died three years before. He said they had been swingers and before she passed away she made him promise he would find someone or at least continue having a sex life. "I am a bit of an exhibitionist," he confessed, "and I enjoy being an extrovert, showing off my skills, even fucking in front of others."

He said sexually he liked taking the dominate role. "Carol liked me to take control," he said. "So, when I get with a couple, that is what I do." He smiled. "Do you like the cuckold role?" he asked me.

"Don't know yet," I said. "I think so. This is our first," I added. "I just found out I fit the definition. So you will help us find out," I said. "It excites me to think of watching her with someone," I told him.

"Then most likely you are," he said with a tone of understanding, apparently from experience. He turned to Claire. "You like oral?" he asked her bluntly. She blushed, smiled, and nodded. "I'll need to ask you some other very personal questions. Okay?" Again, she nodded. "Do you like it rough, mild, or mixed?"

"I don't like pain," she said quietly, so quiet that he had to lean in to hear her.

"And anal?" he asked politely. She shook her head. "Cowgirl?" She shrugged. "On top," he said. She smiled and again nodded. "Are you the aggressor, or the submissive?" he asked. She looked at me.

"More the submissive," I said. "She rarely initiates, but she becomes pretty passionate quickly." It was as if we were discussing a sport, and I realized that was pretty much what we were talking about: the sport of sex. Fucking as recreation. Sex without love. Pleasure for its own sake. Julian actually took notes on his phone, writing down her preferences, her dislikes, and her favorite positions and skills. I had told him she gives very good head, and she blushed and looked at her hands.

I saw him write "orally talented," and underline it. He asked if we would be more comfortable in our home, or at a hotel. We looked at each other and both realized the hotel sounded very nice. "Often people like to keep it away from their home. It just seems safer." We both nodded. That sounded best to us, as well.

It was all very business like. We were arranging for a man to come and fuck my wife, like he was servicing an appliance that didn't work. Julian was very thorough and friendly, as if he might ask for us to write a review of his services to put on his website. People at Applebees could have thought we were employing an accountant, the way we were speaking seriously, writing notes, and nodding a great deal. Looking very normal. If they only knew, I thought, that we were planning my wife's fucking.

When we left the restaurant, Claire said, "Julian seems nice."

"Nice?" I said. "Or nice and sexy? Does he make your panties wet?" I asked. Her look was the only answer I needed. It said, 'I am sitting on a wet spot.' "Okay," I said. "Let's do it." She quietly, but definitely, nodded. "You have been doing a lot of nodding today, but you can back out any time you want. The websites suggests a 'safe word.'" She looked confused. "A word either one of us can say that will end things."

I was surprised Julian hadn't suggested it, although as confident as he looked, he probably thought we wouldn't need one. "Like Butterfly," I said. "Or caterpillar. A word to call it off."

"How about 'seagull,'" she said.

"Seagull it is," I said. "You say Seagull and we leave."

She nodded, but then she caught herself and said, "Okay."

That night during dinner, cleaning up afterwards, or watching television, neither of us spoke about Julian, a fancy hotel room, or wild sex, but after crawling into bed, she said, "Are you excited?" I said I was incredibly turned on. "Me too," she said, using her favorite phrase of late.

"I feel kind of like I am getting ready for the Super Bowl," I said.

"You're comparing me to a sporting event?" she said.

"Baby," I said, "You are the ultimate sporting event. This is the Super Bowl, the World Series, the World Cup, and the US Open all rolled into one. Sweetheart. I have never been so excited. To see you fuck Julian, I would sell tickets. Seriously, this is big."

We kissed like newlyweds and I was so happy I had looked up the word cuckold in the Dictionary of Sexual Deviancies. Amazingly, finding out I was a cuckold had actually brought us together marvelously.

The hotel we picked was the Princeton Towers in San Jose, and we got a room on the top floor. If we did this again, we could not afford a suite in the most expensive hotel in town, but her first time with another man was worth a great deal. We looked at the pictures on the website and the bathroom was elegant.

Julian met us in the lobby of the hotel. At the front desk, as my wife stood next to two men about to check into a room, I could see the thoughts going through the desk clerk's mind. I could see 'threesome' written all over her face. Even the hotel clerk began to blush. It actually added to the excitement to have her thinking about what might be going on in room 2010. I smiled at her and winked as we left for our room. She looked down at the desk, as if meeting my eyes would make her a part of it.

On the elevator ride Claire looked really nervous. Julian stood by her like a casual friend on his way with her to church, but the alter he was going to worship at was my wife's naked body. At the room I used the keycard, opened the door for them, and followed them into the room.

Once inside the doorway, his demeanor changed completely. "Sit in that chair," he ordered, motioning me towards a chair by the wall. He turned to Claire. "Take off your clothes," he told her assertively. I thought I was about to hear the 'safe word,' but without hesitation she began taking off her clothes just as he'd told her to.

First, she quickly unbuttoned her blouse, took it off, then slid her skirt down her legs, slipped her panties over her hips, letting them drop to her ankles. She kicked her panties quickly away and reached back to unsnap her bra. When she was naked, he told her to stand with her arms out to let us look at her. He said "us" as if I was part of it. Claire put her arms out and and turned, just like he had told her to do.

"Come here and undress me," he said, "and told her to fold the clothes neatly and put them on the chair." When she had done that, he said, "Get on the bed and spread your legs for me. Open your pussy with your fingers for my tongue," he told her, as if giving orders to military troops. "Now put a pillow under your hips to hold them up for me. Good. Now ask me to come over and eat your pussy."

Then he turned me. "Ask me to eat your wife's pussy. Say, please eat my wife's pretty pussy." I did as he asked and he crawled up onto the bed and positioned himself between her knees and lowered his mouth to her sex. "Do you want me to eat your pussy in front of your miserable husband?"

"Yes," she said.

"Yes what?" he said sternly.

"Yes I want you to eat my pussy in front of my husband," she said.

"What kind of husband is he?" he asked.

"A miserable fucking wimp," she said. He moved up from her pussy, his face wet from her juices.

"Now lick yourself from off my face." She began licking herself from his cheeks and chin.

"That is good," he said. "Now. Beg me to fuck you," he demanded.

"Oh, please fuck me in front of my weak, despicable fucking, wimp of a husband," she said. He put his cock at her entrance and with one hard shove, rammed it deep in her pussy. She grunted from the impact, but I could see she liked it.

"Tell me to fuck your cunt," he ordered her.

"Yes, please fuck my juicy cunt," she said, getting into the spirit. He began to fuck her rapidly. "Faster," she shouted, urging him on.

"That's a girl," he said, his voice bouncing as he plowed into her pussy as fast as he could go. They fucked for nearly forty minutes and she had two orgasms as he pounded into her. Before he came, he pulled out of her and demanded that she beg him to let her suck his cock.

"Oh, please, Julian, let me suck that beautiful cock of yours." He told her to tell him that if he wanted she would drink and swallow his cum. "Oh, yes. I will swallow everything you give me," she said, her voice loud and clear. "Please come in my mouth so I can drink your semen like milk. Oh, yes, Julian, sweetheart. Come down my throat. Fill me with your come. Please, baby. Shoot down my throat like Linda Lovelace drank it down when she deep throated Anthony. Let me taste your cum, Julian. Oh, please."

When he came, she indeed drank him down, holding his cock in her mouth, her fist around his shaft and swallowing as his semen came shooting out of him, gulping down spurt after spurt. When she was finished swallowing all he had, she wiped her mouth with her forearm, kissed the end of his cock, and she smiled over at me. Julian watched her and smiled himself.

They got up from the bed and he kissed her as they stood next to it. Then he dressed and went to the door. His demeanor had changed back to the courteous educator and he nodded to me, kissed her again, and closed the door behind him.

"That was fantastic," I said. "Super Bowl, World Series, and the US Open combined. I love you," I said.

"I hope you didn't mind the insults," she said.

"All part of the big game," I said. "How'd he taste?"

"Marvelous," she said with a grin. "Simply marvelous."