Marriage Pulled Back from the Abyss

I nodded. "Fair. I see your point. But I just want to say, Kay, with all sincerity, with all the intense, profound love I have for you. My darling Kay, please, please, honey, if you love me, you'll let me do this. It will really spice up our sex life and make our marriage so much better."

She angrily slammed her hand on the leather sofa. "No, Jeffrey! This is not about an open marr...". Kay's face turned white. Then, she spat, "Jeffrey. My love is not conditional on anything like this... I uh, just..." She slid into my arms and pulled me close. I thought, 'I think I just grabbed Kay and pulled her back from Marissa.' "Oh, my god, Jeffrey, I did say that to you, didn't I? Darling, I am so terribly sorrow that I let all this happen!"

In a last, desperate attempt to reassert her control, Marissa stood up and walked over to us. "Kay! He's manipulating you. He's making you bear his insecurities! This man is a sophist, twisting words to get his way!"

I stood to face Marissa, and Rodger's eyes widened with concern. Almost eye-to-eye with the tall woman. I looked at her fiery blue eyes, then to Rodger. I asked, "Rodger, do you truly like watching your wife fuck other men? Do you like her to humiliate you? You like having your cock locked up, begging your wife for permission to cum?"

Rodger was stunned, speechless. Marissa snapped, "Leave him alone, Jeffrey! You're bullying him!"

I exhaled a laugh through my nose. "Rodger is in chastity. I can see the lump from here, and that fucking key around your neck isn't for your YWCA gym locker. I bet he stays home when you have your Alpha Centauri boys, or monster men, or whatever bullshit name you call the low I.Q. dicks that fuck you vapid women. As for bullying Rodger? Shit, look at your lifestyle, Marissa! You're the living, walking definition of a bully!"

I looked at him. "Right, Rodger? I have some bolt-cutters in the garage that we can cut that motherfucker off with. You can then throw this snooty bitch on the couch and fuck her silly. Hell, man, flip her over and shove the old Jim Garrison up the Hershey Highway till her baby-blues bug out of her smug face! C'mon, brother, I'll hold your fucking beer while you do." One corner of the man's mouth twitched in a suppressed grin.

Kay rose, took my arm, and in a low, firm voice said, "That's enough, Jeffrey. You've made your point."

I looked at my wife, and then holding her in front of me, I asked, "Where are you with this whole wife-sharing, loving cuckold thing, Kay?" She shrugged and looked down. I read her like a book. Kay was a good book, full of good and perfect ideas that evil lies had tainted. "It's time to pick a side, Kay. I'm not going along with it, ever, because I took a sacred wedding vow that I would forsake all others. The same one you did. We have it on DVD and probably need to watch it again." She looked up at me, and I gazed into her eyes and added, "Even when we 'fuck' like wild rabbits, I consider it making love because you are my wife, my lover. That's not something I will ever share."

Kay's eyes shone with fresh tears. Her pretty face began to tighten up and furrow; her lower lip trembled. I took her in a tight, secure embrace as she buried her face in my shoulder and sobbed. Kay hugged me closer as I rubbed her back and stroked her hair. In the tenderness of the moment, I choked back my tears. I said to Marissa, "I think it's time you two left us alone." Kay nodded in agreement.

As Rodger passed, I said sotto voce, "Call me, and I'll show up and cut you free. Free, Rodger. Ask yourself when was the last time you were actually free to do anything or act as her equal?"

The poor guy looked lost, and when he tarried a moment too long, Marissa grabbed him by the arm, nearly jerking him off his feet!

We stood there, holding each other, and cried ourselves out. I started humming lowly, simply because it felt good, and I made it up as I went along. Slowly, it acquired a familiar rhythm and tempo. A song emerged at about half speed, and it was something my grandmother sang to me as a child: "We'll Meet Again."

Her head against my chest, Kay followed the tune - I'd played it for her scores of times - and I could feel it resonating in my chest. I kissed the top of her beautiful head. Slowly, we began to move, and for the next ten or twelve or however many minutes, we slow-waltzed, occasionally changing tunes. It wasn't showy or well done, but it was the most beautiful waltz since we were married.

As we passed the mantel, I grabbed our wedding photo and kissed Kay's youthful, smiling image, and she kissed mine. We returned the picture to its honored place on our next passage around the Grand Vienna Ballroom, which our glorious shared fantasy had created of our humble family room.

That evening, we watched the DVD of our wedding, even tearfully repeating our vows. And afterward, we had some of the most incredible sex we'd ever had, beginning on the sofa, followed by the kitchen table, the stairs, and finally the marital bed. We called in sick the next morning and fucked and cuddled and kissed and talked and... You get the idea. All day long. Just us.

Afterward, Kay and Marissa's relationship cooled, and as soon as Kay gained some distance from her, the spell was broken. While they remained congenial, it was clear the older woman never forgave my wife. Kay was a little sad because she assured me there was a beautiful side to Marissa I'd never seen. I opined that if a person's good side was the hidden side, they probably had some deeper issues.

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EPILOGUE

Understanding problems and issues requires looking at everything in detail. It's like a post-mishap accident investigation. One of the pre-conditions to our close call with the abyss, was the state of our marriage; it wasn't all that bad, but it had some flaws. Somehow, Kay had allowed Marissa to sell her, and ultimately us, on this idealized version of the so-called 'loving cuckold' lifestyle that was portrayed as all up-side and no down-side. We'd also fallen into the trap of believing we could replicate fantasies in real life without harm or ill effect.

Moreover, Marissa fed Kay misinformation, generalities, unfounded assumptions, and even pure lies. It was all passed off as beneficial, seemingly without fallout, unintended consequences, or issues, unless the husband created those issues. Examples were anecdotal and carefully chosen and fed to Kay and others, looking for a comfortable, painless, and fun way to spice up their marriage.

Toxic feminism offered this sweet fruit of sexual freedom as a panacea to its aspiring, new supplicants, all the while hiding the poison within it. What was missing were the real-life examples of the cuckold lifestyle and real-life, cautionary advice from, oddly enough, that lifestyle's true adherents. Marissa was nothing but a self-absorbed, controlling charlatan.

Later, as part of getting our minds around the near tragedy, Kay and I dug more profound and more objectively into this lifestyle on the Internet and in print. There, we discovered that one of the other women who'd so positively spoken to Kay and others of cuckolding and female-led marriages was a strident, angry, man-hating feminist (a quad-redundancy). In her book, she even wrote of, "my friend M, and her willing, cuckold husband, R, are a shining example of a successful, 21st century, female-led, power couple". Kay concluded that the real Rodger, who'd come to the house with Marissa, was anything but a powerful man she'd seen around their home. Seeing the real Rodger had aligned with all the other things that Kay came to understand over that nightmare weekend.

The correct information is out there about cuckolding, but it's hard to find in all the trash and porno ground-clutter. In short, it is an extreme, edge lifestyle fraught with psychological dangers and even physical ones. There are very few real adherents who practice over a long time because it runs contrary to human nature. Its main benefice is as a potent, nasty, sexy fantasy vehicle. It's one of those things which can be fun until it isn't.

We recognized that we did have some trouble in our marriage, so we went to marriage counseling, and after six months, we both agreed our marriage was more robust and healthier than it had ever been before. We were forced to confront difficult moments, but we grew, both as a couple and individually. Now, we actively plan and include more "us" time into our routines, and each week we review our week together; we over-communicate on everything. Once a quarter, we circle back with our counselor.

Our marriage counselor, we learned, worked with many marriages that experienced problems due to uninformed forays into this potentially toxic lifestyle. She spoke first-hand of the damage she'd seen, and ours paled in comparison since we'd pulled the plug early.

As a pleaser, I treat Kay like she's a goddess, one to be worshipped, and this is still my approach to making love to her. In counseling, Kay said that occasionally, she just wants to be fucked and treated like a whore (it even hurts to write this). That has taken some doing on my part, but I'm getting better at it, and Kay gives me essential feedback, both verbal and non-verbal. There's our improved communication.

Finally, as far as sexual fantasies are concerned, ours are better than ever. However, we learned the hard way that we need to keep them in our heads, in the bedroom (or hot tub, or shower, or on the kitchen table...). Sure, you can use props, toys, and such, but the nasty, wicked shit you and your partner drag out of your vivid imaginations? Don't make it real because you can't. It's a damn fantasy!

As Kay said during one of our therapy sessions, "We need to make sure that what happens inside our heads stays right there between our two minds!" After all, the human mind is the most significant sex organ of all!

Oh, last of all, we recently decided it was time for Kay to stop taking the pill. 'Babymakin', here we cum! That's a whole 'nuther set erotic fantasies!