Never the Same Again Ch. 05

This is the fifth chapter of a multi-part story spanning years, detailing how an unexpected encounter completely changed the course of my life.

Previously: Danielle and Ronda have an extended sleepover at my apartment. Danielle and I profess our love for each other. Ronda and I find ourselves in some intimate exchanges. Danielle finally agrees to tell me the secret she has been keeping from me.

Danielle: Age 18, a busty brunette that I am dating. Danielle has a secret she has been hiding from me.

Ronda: Age 18, Danielle's cousin and best friend. Danielle has joked about letting Ronda 'borrow' me.

Revelation

November, 1999

Danielle and I sat on the edge of my bed, a couple feet between us. Danielle was fidgeting nervously, picking at her clothes, running her hand through her hair, looking everywhere but at me.

On the other hand, I was sitting still but I was sure I was just as nervous. Danielle looked at me, but glanced away quickly, blushing.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" I finally asked.

Danielle sighed and nodded. "Yeah, I need to. It's not going away and I want you to know who I am. I just hope you won't be repulsed or disgusted by me after you find out what I'm really like."

"I love you, Danielle. I've been thinking of all the worst things you could say to me right now, and my feelings never wavered."

"That's sweet," she smiled at me nervously.

She took a deep breath and looked at me. "You wanted to know why I offered to let Ronda fuck you." It was a statement, not a question, but I nodded in answer anyways. I could feel myself getting lightheaded, and my terror at what she was about to say was palpable.

She blushed down to her roots, and whispered so softly I almost didn't hear her. "I have a fetish..."

"You have a fetish," I repeated, not understanding the connection to Ronda or where she was going with this.

"Yeah, one that I've become increasingly obsessed with over the last eight or nine months," she spoke a little louder, but still quietly, as if the lower her voice, the less shameful her fetish was.

"Ok," I said hesitantly, "lots of people have fetishes, they generally aren't something to be ashamed of."

"Well, I feel like this one is," she snapped harshly before softening her tone. "Sorry, people keep saying that, but they have no idea. I'm just super nervous I'm about to destroy my life and hope of future happiness."

I grunted, knowing the feeling well, but didn't say that.

"It has gone a good bit beyond being turned on by feet or something, a basic fetish like that. I've even talked with my therapist about it, and she says I have developed what she calls a 'fetishistic obsession.' It's somewhere between a normal fetish and a fetishistic or paraphilic disorder is what she told me. Unlike a disorder, it's not a recognized condition."

"Ok," I said, not sure how else to respond and not wanting to say the wrong thing.

"Dr. Sing said almost all people who have fetishistic obsessions are men, I'm just one of the lucky girls who got one of their own. Apparently I have an 'obsessive' personality and am 'psychologically predisposed' to develop something like that. Yay, me!" she said in self-mockery.

"Dr. Sing also says there are ways to manage it, but that it would be mentally and psychologically unhealthy to suppress it completely, and I should find a way to work with my partner to try to incorporate it into my sex life in at least a limited capacity. She said suppressing it completely can, in extreme cases, make the obsession much worse or even damage my regular sex functions, making it impossible to get aroused or climax normally."

"Of course, she also said it was nothing to be ashamed of, but that's complete bullshit, so who knows if the rest of what she says is too."

She didn't say anything else for a long while and I finally spoke into the silence. "So what's the fetish and why are you convinced I won't love you anymore when I find out?"

She steeled herself and looked at me. "You know what cuckolding is?"

I stared at her as the worst of my worst nightmares became my new reality.

"Cuckolding," I repeated flatly.

"Yeah, cuckolding. You know what it is, right?" she asked, her nerves growing at my less than friendly response.

"Yes, I know what cuckolding is. It's where the guy is forced to watch, or sometimes wants to watch I guess, his girlfriend get fucked by another guy," I answered, a hard and obvious edge to my voice.

"Well, yeah, thats generally what it is, but I-"

"Is that what you want?" I interrupted. "That's what you've become obsessed with, like you said? You want me to watch you get fucked by another guy?" My eyes widened in realization. "Is that why you wanted me to fuck Ronda, so I would be ok with you fucking someone else too?!" I stood up, needing an outlet for the intensity of my feelings but unable to find one.

Danielle looked genuinely taken aback. "Fuck another guy? What? NO!" she cried, tears starting to slide down her face.

I glared at her. "You just said-" I started angrily, and she suddenly burst into sobs.

"I haven't even gotten to tell you yet, and you already hate me!" she wailed.

And I suddenly came to my senses and realized how awful I was being to the girl I loved.

I quickly moved to her and threw my arms around her. She tried to push me away, sobs wracking her body, but I wouldn't let her pull away from me. After several long moments of struggling, she collapsed against my chest, her body shaking. "Please don't hate me, Tim, I couldn't live with you hating me. Please, don't hate me, please..." she whimpered over and over, ignoring my attempts to shush her.

"Shh, Danielle, I'm sorry! I don't hate you, I could never hate you!" I assured her, but she didn't seem to be hearing me. I finally gave up trying to get through to her and just held her, letting her cry herself out, all the while she continued to beg me not to hate her.

Eventually the sobs died away, though the tears continued to flow. She pulled away slightly and looked at me, then brought her hands to the sides of my face and pulled me in to kiss me. Her lips gently touched mine, and I could taste the saltiness of her tears on them. She looked me in the eyes and said, "Please don't hate me, Tim, even if you leave me because of this, promise me you'll never hate me, I couldn't bear life with you hating me."

"I don't hate you, I could never hate you," I repeated and she seemed to finally hear me now. "Danielle, I'm sorry for the way I acted just now. You deserve so much better." She closed her eyes and breathed deeply several times before opening them again.

"Please, Danielle, tell me what you need to tell me, I won't interrupt again."

She nodded and gathered herself before speaking again.

"I got interested in the fetish maybe nine months ago when I saw it on a porn video we rented. For some reason, it brought out desires and feelings I never experienced before. I started reading stories, renting every movie that had even a suggestion it might contain what I was looking for, reading letters in the porn magazines and websites, anything to find more of it."

"That's what my 'psychologically predisposed' personality did for me, it fed my obsession until it became something I couldn't control. I've been seeing Dr. Sing for a couple years now, and I told her what was going on with this a few months ago, and she's been trying to help me through it, or at least manage it. She said sometimes, indulging in it once or twice will neutralize the obsession, but that was rare and not something to count on."

"You have to know, I've never acted on it, only fantasized about it. I've never had the opportunity to, until now." She looked at me apprehensively. "Or at least the potential opportunity to act on it, I guess," she whispered, blushing. "That's completely up to you, of course."

I grunted noncommittally, and she flinched, but continued. "It's not something I necessarily want, I just feel its something I need to at least try, the urge and desire is so strong, I can hardly stand it sometimes. I need to try it, Ronda made me realize it's not fair to me to try to suppress it." And suddenly I was remembering a conversation I overheard between the two of them:

"You're gonna have to tell him eventually, better sooner rather than later. Besides, he adores you, he isn't going to react like you're convinced he will!" Ronda was saying.

"Why do I have to tell him? Maybe I can just ignore it and power through for the rest of my life..."

"Danielle!" Ronda said with exasperation. "You can't do that to yourself! I won't let you do that to yourself. You deserve to be happy! Besides, your therapist told you it was unhealthy to completely suppress it."

"I can't do it, Ronda, I can't tell him. I can't see the look in his eye when he learns the truth about me. I can't live with him looking at me like that!"

"Danielle, I've been telling you for months now, you are making a bigger deal of this than it is! People are turned on by different things, it's natural! Dr. Sing told you, I told you, there is nothing to be ashamed of!"

"Yeah, well, you feel what I'm feeling, you deal with what I am dealing with! You have to explain it to the man you love! Then tell me you aren't ashamed! You have no idea!"

That finally made sense, and I couldn't really disagree with Ronda. Danielle did deserve to be happy, and I wanted that for her. She needed to be able to experience her sexuality as she saw fit, without worrying about my hang ups.

"And that's why I made the deal with Ronda, to be able to experience it," Danielle finished.

I stared at her blankly, still not understanding what she was talking about. "I'm sorry, Danielle, but I must be missing something somewhere, because I'm still not making the connection. You want to cuckold me with another guy, so you made the deal with Ronda so you could experience that?"

She was already shaking her head. "No, I never said that! I love you, I don't wanna have sex with anyone else but you!"

"But I thought you said the fetish was cuckolding," I said, more confused than ever.

"No! Well, yes, it is, kind of. But I didn't say the fetish was cuckolding, I asked if you knew what cuckolding was because I thought it would make it easier for me to explain. And you got so worked up and mad at me and that word, you jumped to all kinds of wrong conclusions. And now you're mad at me, and I've fucked up all of this," she whimpered, tears starting to well in her eyes again.

"I'm sorry, Danielle. Truly I am. I'm not mad. But I'm just not understanding."

She wiped tears from her cheeks as she replied. "Cuckolding is mainly men getting off on watching their girls with other guys, or girls getting off forcing their boyfriends to watch them fuck other guys." She paused, and I nodded for her to continue. Danielle took a deep breath. "It's rarer, but it can go the other way too..."

"The other way?" I asked, and I felt like I was close to an epiphany but it was eluding me.

"Yeah, some girls get off watching their boyfriends with other girls..." Danielle whispered, and she blushed as deeply as I had ever seen someone blush before.

And the final piece of the puzzle fell into place, making the whole picture clear. "And that's why you made the deal with Ronda," I said, finally understanding, and she nodded. I sat in silence mulling things over in my head while she darted increasingly worried looks at me.

"Ok, just so there is no misunderstanding, let me see if I can summarize. About nine months ago, you watched a video where a girl got off watching her boyfriend fuck another girl, and that turned you on in a crazy strong way, and you became obsessed with the idea." She nodded.

"You started searching for everything you could find about girls watching their man fuck someone else, and the fetish started to consume you. But you didn't have a boyfriend, so you were never able to actually participate in the fetish. Your therapist is helping you manage it, but that has it's limits and she is suggesting you try to include it in some form in your sex life. Now you have me, and you want me to hook up with Ronda in front of you so you can either confirm your fetish, or move on from it." She nodded again and looked at me fearfully.

I slowly nodded, trying to process the whole thing. I understood the deal now, but what I didn't understand was why she was so afraid to tell me about it. I mean, I loved Danielle, and I couldn't imagine a scenario where I would ever cheat on her, or even be seriously tempted to. But I was a guy, after all, and given the opportunity and permission, having sex with someone else would certainly be something I would consider. But she really seemed to think I would hate her for even suggesting it.

She finally spoke as my silence dragged on. "You think I'm disgusting, don't you?" she said in a small voice.

I looked at her in surprise. "No! Why would you think that?"

Danielle shrugged helplessly. "I just imagine how I would feel if you told me you wanted me to fuck someone else while you watched because that was the only way you could get off. That me sharing my body with you meant so little that you were willing to let someone else use me for your pleasure. That you had so little respect for me you thought it was ok to give me away to someone else. I would feel degraded, worthless, and badly hurt. It would completely destroy my self-esteem. It would make it impossible for me to believe you really loved me..."

Danielle choked the last sentence out in a barely coherent whimper, and with new tears streaming down her face, she gasped, "But I do love you, Tim, I do, please believe me..." and she clutched at me desperately, her movements wild as her body was wracked with silent sobs.

I grabbed her, afraid she was going to fall off the bed as her body shook uncontrollably, and pulled her close, holding onto her tightly. I finally understood why she was so scared to tell me about this. In her mind it was a terrible insult to me, an unequivocal indictment of not only our sexual relationship, but also of our emotional one. A clear statement of disrespect, of viewing me as nothing more than her property to be given away for her pleasure. She thought it would make it impossible for me to believe she really loved me. Those were almost her exact words.

Her tears lessened fairly quickly as I held her, but her body was still shivering and shuddering, quaking as she almost hyperventilated. After several minutes, Danielle pushed herself away from me, and sat back, breathing heavily and rubbing at her swollen eyes and red nose.

I thought about what she had just said, and I shook my head, but I wasn't sure what I was shaking it at. She sat and watched me in silence, anxiety written large across her features. She started to open her mouth to say something a couple times, but closed it again without speaking.

Finally she couldn't take it any longer, and she asked, "What are you thinking?"

I just shook my head again, staring off into nothing, my thoughts and emotions a confused and knotted jumble that seemed impossible right now to untangle.

"Please, Tim, you're scaring me, please say something."

I looked at her, and smiled. "I'm sorry, I'm just trying to make sense of what I am feeling right now."

"And? What are you feeling?"

"Honestly, I really don't know. There's a lot to unpack."

"Ok... would it help if we talked each bit of it out? Would that help you figure out how you feel about me?"

I looked at her sharply. "Stop saying that, and definitely stop thinking it. I don't need to figure out how I feel about you. Nothing has changed. I love you. No doubts, remember?"

She smiled a relieved smile at me, and repeated in a whisper, "No doubts."

I took another couple minutes to gather my thoughts, then gave her a serious look.

"Before we start diving into this whole thing, I need to say something that is bothering me. It may seem like a small thing, but it's not to me. I've been hurt badly by girls in the past, by lies and dishonest manipulation. Honesty is the single most important thing to me in a relationship. And you and Ronda lied to me."

She looked at me wide-eyed as I continued. "You told me before that the deal was about getting Ronda laid because she hadn't gotten any in a while. But that's not the truth. It really has nothing to do with that." She started to open her mouth to say something, but I raised my hand to forestall her. "Please, let me finish. Maybe it was true that Ronda getting laid was a side benefit, and maybe you didn't outright say that was what the deal was for, but you implied it, strongly implied it, on multiple occasions, and that's just straight up untrue. And you were manipulating me into getting what you wanted with that dishonesty."

Danielle was staring at her fidgeting hands in her lap, flinching with each accusation. "I know people have different opinions about whether it's ok to tell little white lies if it's with good intentions. I personally am not sure how I feel about it, but in a relationship I tend to think any lie can fatally poison it, eroding trust until there's none left. What's more, I don't think this was a little white lie. Sure, it may be closer to a half-truth than an actual lie, but my problem is what the lie was intended to accomplish, not with the severity of the lie itself. It wasn't told with good intentions, you told it to hide something important from me, something it was critical for me to know for the health of our relationship. Worse, you hid a part of yourself from me behind it, and that's what I'm struggling with most right now," I finished.

After a moment, she looked up at me, tears standing in her eyes. "You're completely right. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lied to you, I was just so scared of telling you the truth, but that isn't an excuse. I want you to know who I am, not who I wish I was. I will never lie to you again, Tim. I mean it. As painful as this whole thing is, I am so happy you know me better now. Even if it means the end of our relationship, I would rather you know the real me than spend another moment hiding it from you."

I held my arms open and she fell into my embrace, clinging tightly with her arms around my neck. "I love you, Tim," her voice came, muffled from where it was buried in my shirt. "No doubts," I whispered in response, and she squeezed me tighter.

I extricated myself after a couple minutes holding her. "I'm starving," I said, noticing her red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained face. "Why don't you go wash your face with cold water and freshen up a bit while I go snag us some pizza and bring it back in here so we can eat while we talk."

Danielle smiled and nodded, and leaned forward to kiss me quickly before standing up and heading to the bathroom.

Out in the living room, Ronda looked up anxiously from where she was wiping down the coffee table, but before she could say anything I said, "Ronda, you don't have to do that." She looked down at the spray and paper towels in her hands and shrugged.

"Are you kidding me? I'm going out of my mind out here worrying about what's going on in there. This is keeping me distracted, or if not distracted exactly, it's keeping my body busy so I don't pace a bare spot into your carpet."

"Now, how's it going, did she tell you?" she asked, hardly able to contain herself.

I grunted. "Yeah, in the most torturous, terrifying way possible."

Ronda looked at me quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"Well, the first thing she asked was if I knew what cuckolding was."

"Oh my god!" Ronda blurted, and she was clearly trying to hide a huge grin behind her hand. "That must have been like your worst nightmare coming true!"