Reflections of a Recovering Cuckold

REFLECTIONS OF A RECOVERING CUCKOLD

THREE YEARS AGO: I see my wife from across the room. We are at her company's Christmas party. I am definitely NOT filled with Christmas cheer. She is happily flitting around the room, talking to people, laughing, drinking and having a good time.

My thoughts are much darker. I'm sitting by myself near the bar. My eyes darting around the room. I'm wondering: "Did she fuck that guy? Him? More than one? All of them? Threesomes? Did she suck their dicks? (I haven't had a blow job since before we were married.) Did she take it up the ass? (I've never done that.) Did she enjoy it? Did she cum? She must have. Does everyone know? I bet they do. I interpret the looks people give me as pity or condemnation. Was that a friendly smile or a smirk?

I don't know. All I know is that two nights before the party my lovely bride informed me that she had had an affair with "someone from work." She said that the affair was over. She wouldn't tell me who. She said the affair was over. She wouldn't give me details. She said she just couldn't live with the guilt anymore. She said she would never do it again. She wants forgiveness. She was willing to go to counseling. She didn't want to break up our home.

I was so angry, hurt, guilty, and feeling...God, I couldn't begin to identify my feelings. On a higher level, I could see she made a mistake, I didn't want to break up our home either. What would be in the best interests of us and our son. On a more basic level, I wanted to kill the fucking bitch or kill the other guy or kill myself.

Ahh. Isn't that sweet? She clears her conscious and eases her guilt while she tears me a new asshole.

We have been married 15 years and lived together 2 years before that. She has aged well. She still looks the same to me as the evening I met her 17 years ago, ironically at another Christmas party.

17 years ago, I was invited by a buddy of mine to go a Christmas party given by one of the venders he works with. With an offer of free drinks and eats and the prospect of scoring some fresh pussy, it didn't take much persuading.

I had just walked into the party and had gotten a drink. I looked around and saw her immediately. A tall slim brunette. Her hair came just past her golden tan shoulders. She had sparkling brown eyes that lit up her face, (and the room) when she smiled. She was wearing a green cocktail dress that had a plunging V neckline. It clung to her body. Not in a slutty way, but in a way that accentuated her long slim perfect shape. She wore 3" heels that accentuated the long tall look. The V in the front of the dress was cut so low that she could not wear a bra, but she didn't need to. Her smallish firm breasts filled out the top of the dress perfectly.

She was, (and still is) beautiful. In my eyes she looks the same today as she did when I first met her. Her hips have rounded somewhat after giving birth to our son, but she has the same sexy body and the same bubbling personality (at least publicly) that I fell in love with almost instantly.

When I met her, it turned out she was the top salesperson for one of the companies that was invited to the party, and she was "working the room." Flitting from group to group. Smiling, laughing. She looked like she was having the time of her life and she probably was. I don't remember how I caught her eye. I like to think it was my rugged good looks and my height. I kept myself in good shape. I weighed 210 lbs. (A little more now.) and I'm 6'3" which made me a few inches taller than her even in her heels.

At any rate, I walked over and joined the casual conversation with the group she was in which led to dancing with casual conversation which led to dancing with serious conversation. She said she was divorced. She was dating some guy, but it wasn't serious. This conversation led to a taxi ride to my apartment and then to my bed. We have been together ever since.

Until two days ago, my life was great. I had the love of my life beside me and our 14-year-old son completed the happy family. Could anything be better? Well, no, but it could be a whole lot worse.

I shouldn't have gone to this year's party. I should have feigned the flu. But my wife insisted I go. "I need you there. It would look funny if you weren't there. We can dance and have fun just like the old days." I told her I was feeling a little raw. She completely dismissed my feelings. "When are you going to get over this? Well, if you don't want to go, we'll just stay home (Pouting, crossed arms, disgusted look.) but John (her boss) won't like it. We do a lot of business at these parties and John's going to be upset if I don't show up."

I thought (but didn't say.) John's upset! What about me?

Of course, we went to the party,

At the party, there are a few similarities from the night I met her. The party was in her company's office. They had shoved some desks aside to make a dance floor and set up a temporary bar. My wife was, once again, working the room. Smiling, laughing, joking, giving hugs to people as they come up to her. Having fun. I'm downcast. Sitting at a table next to the bar nursing a drink and watching her.

I just felt so goddamned inadequate. I walked over to the group she was in and asked her to dance. I could almost feel the life being sucked out of the room as she reluctantly walked to the dancing area with me. She had quite a bit to drink. I told her that I would like to leave soon. She said she was still "working" and would I please cheer up and at least pretend like I was having a good time and please stop embarrassing her.

After the dance I retreated to the sidelines. God! When did I become such a milquetoast? Such a pussy?

I should have just gone home, but I guess I was having too much fun beating myself up.

The party went on and the drinks flowed. I realized I hadn't seen my wife for a while. The last time I saw her she was laughing and talking with John. I got up to take a leak and noticed that the lights were on in the entire building except in John's office. I got a very bad feeling so I walked over and opened his door.

They should have locked the door, but they didn't. When I walked in, there they were. John was sitting in his desk chair with his pants down and my wife was on her knees, her dress down to her waist with his cock buried in her mouth.

I saw red. Well actually, I saw yellow. An Amber ashtray that lay on a coffee table. I picked up the ashtray which weighed about 3 pounds and smashed it in John's face. There was a very satisfying CRACK! as it smashed into his face and shattered his nose.

I dropped the ashtray and grabbed my wife's arm and drug her to her feet. John was slumped in his chair semiconscious. I grabbed the back of John's chair and kept my wife's arm in my other hand. I was so filled with adrenaline they seemed to weigh nothing. I dragged John's chair with him slumped in it through the door and slung him out into the party. His pants were down around his ankles and caught in the wheels of his chair tipping it over and sprawling him onto the dance floor. I pushed my wife after him. She stumbled and fell on her side. She was crying and trying to cover herself up.

"Who's next?" I yelled. "Looks like John didn't get finished with his blow job. Who's got the next number? Who wants sloppy seconds? I don't give a shit." I then turned to my wife and said, "I don't care where you stay tonight but it won't be at home. Tomorrow, you have from the time Robbie (our son) leaves for school until he gets home to pack your shit and get out." I then just kneeled down and started bawling like a baby.

By then, John was starting to come around. He was a mess. His nose was smashed. He was bleeding all over the place. My wife had pulled up her dress and ran to the bathroom crying. Someone called the police and they arrived before there were any further confrontations.

I was arrested for Assault and Battery. My attorney did some legal maneuvering about pleading temporary insanity. He negotiated a plea bargain that ended up with me pleading no contest with extenuating circumstances. I guess the DA and the judge didn't like the thought of walking in on their wife giving someone a blowjob because I got a suspended sentence, 5 years' probation, and mandatory counseling.

That was my rock bottom. My wife remained in the house. I moved into a cheap apartment. I was alone and feeling awful. It was so bad that when I tried to masturbate watching porn, I saw the monster sized porn star cocks and felt my human size was totally inadequate. Hell, everything was inadequate. I was inadequate.

THE HEALING STARTS: The counseling was (and is) the best thing to come out of the whole affair (pun intended.) After a couple of sessions of enduring my rants and blaming my wife and playing the victim, the counselor simply asked, "Are you a victim? What have you done to contribute to this situation?"

I had to think. By then, I had done a lot of reading on relationships and the causes of a partner straying. They ran the gambit from the "Players" who have no intention of honoring their vows to Cuckold relationships where one partner gets sexual excitement by actively encouraging or participating in the other partner's sex acts with another person.

I didn't think my wife was in the "Player" class. I'd at least give her that. And I definitely wasn't in the participating cuckold category either. The only enjoyment I had watching my wife with another man was smashing the mother fucker in the face. I have to smile here. When I replay in my mind the sound that his nose made when it shattered, I get a visceral feeling in my loins that is almost sexual.

As an aside, if you are a cuckold and are into it and you get satisfaction from it, my hats off to you. That really takes guts to be that honest about your needs. That lifestyle is just not for me

What I came away with was I was in the in-between category. I looked at the power dynamics in relationships. The Alpha/Beta rolls. I realized that my wife didn't take my power, I gave it to her.

I have a fairly high stress job. I work for an insurance company. I manage thirteen offices and over one hundred personnel. I mostly negotiate high dollar settlements of lawsuits. I'm definitely Alpha there.

When I'm not at work, I don't want all the stress of making decisions and tend to be way layback and go with the flow. I frankly don't care where we eat or what color we paint the house. My wife took advantage of that and eventually I had no opinion at all. At least no opinion as far as my wife was concerned. When there was something I specifically wanted to do, unless that was what she specifically wanted to do, we didn't do it. If I insisted, I was selfish, not thinking about her and yada yada yada.

"It's not worth the fight" became my mantra.

I don't know when the nitpicking started. Or maybe it had always been there, and I hadn't noticed. But all of a sudden, I could not do anything right. It seemed I couldn't do anything without being criticized, either with passive-aggressive behavior or she would redo what I did. This got so bad that one time I was going to plug in an appliance for her. I guess I was a little too slow because she huffed, grabbed the cord and plugged it in herself. I had sunk so low in my wife's eyes that she thought I was so incompetent that I couldn't even plug in a 3-pronged plug. The sad part is that I ate all of this. I was getting as low of an opinion of myself as she had of me. I got to the point where I just gave up. Why try? I was like the arcade game where the gopher pops his head up and you hit it with a hammer before it ducks back down. I just got hit on the head too many times.

Our sex life had degenerated to about the same level. When we first got together, we had sex everywhere, 2 or 3 times a day. That kind of settled down until we were having sex about 3 times a week. The only weird thing about that is when we first got together, she had a habit of calling me her ex's name. Not all the time, but fairly often. The first time, I thought it was kind of funny and knew that sort of thing happens a lot. I had almost called her an old girlfriend's name once, but I caught myself.

Finally, we were at a party. She was telling a story about me and used his name. I interrupted her and said, "My name is Bill."

"What?" she said. I repeated, "My name is Bill."

You know, that was probably the last time I asserted myself successfully because after that she got my name right. At least in front of me.

The night before we were married, my now wife told me that she didn't want to have oral sex anymore. Giving or receiving. She said it was a deal breaker and I could back out of the marriage if I wanted.

The next day, when the minister asked if anyone had any objections, I didn't have the balls to turn to 140 people and say," I do, she won't suck my cock anymore." But now, I sure as hell wish I would have done that.

After our son was born, the sex meter dropped. When I wanted sex, she was tired, not in the mood. She started going to bed early to avoid me. When I'd try to kiss her or get close, she would tighten up. When I wanted sex, I was "Mister one-track mind" or I didn't care about her feelings. When she did acquiesce, she essentially just laid there.

It got a little better when she started traveling on overnight trips for work. Shortly after she started, I was taking a shower and she joined me. She got down on her knees and momentarily took me in her mouth. That was the last time she initiated sex. I don't know if she was attracted to me or just thanking me for being a live-in babysitter for our son. From what I've read, that is when she probably started fucking around. She was feeling guilty, or she had to confirm her decision to cheat.

At any rate, after that, the sex meter went to zero. Maybe once a month. She made me feel that I was raping her. All I knew was that she didn't want to have sex with me. Jacking off was more fun than "making love" to her. She walked in on me once and accused me of cheating. If we didn't have my son, I probably would have left but I stayed for him. At least that was my excuse. I really stayed because I was too chickenshit to confront her.

Well, I guess that's it. I was a total Beta Pussy and had been one for a long time. No wonder my wife didn't like me, I didn't like myself either. She cut off my balls, and I let her. She was then surprised that she didn't like what she created.

THERE'S HOPE: The good news is that I could change. And I have changed. The first step was deciding that I wanted to change. Then deciding what I wanted to change into. And go for it. I'm oversimplifying it, but it's still pretty simple. I don't have to be aggressive like I am at work, but to simply state my needs and wants. And I have learned to compromise.

I've been in counseling off and on for three years. Change does not come overnight. When you've lived as a submissive for as long as I have, it takes courage to honestly state your needs. On occasion, I can still kind of sugarcoat my requests. That's where the counseling comes in. She helps me through the process. And I listen to her. That gives me courage. Believe me, I never want to go down that rabbit hole again.

We have joint custody of my son, but he lives with me. Primarily because my now ex-wife still travels in business. My son's had a few counseling sessions to help him deal with some of the toxic influences of his mother.

My ex refused counseling. She's just too rigid and still wants to play the victim. I wish her well. I really do. She's the mother of my son and she loves him. I know she's unhappy and that affects her son's and her relationship.

And John. While this isn't a revenge story, he was fired. His wife was at the party and didn't like what she saw and divorced him. He threatened to sue me for his injuries. I threatened to sue him for alienation of affection. We both decided to drop the matter.

Ironically, the only lawsuit that went through was my wife's. She sued her company for sexual harassment and received a huge settlement. She surprised me when she used part of the settlement to voluntarily set up a fund for our son's college costs. He probably won't need it. He's a senior in high school, has a straight A average and has just accepted a full ride football scholarship to Ohio State. But it's nice to know he has the money to fall back on and to start his life.

I didn't consider dating for the first year of my recovery. I'm now seeing a wonderful woman who supports me, and I support her. I took it extremely slow. We had three dates before I even kissed her. I took a lot of time to really get to know her and to expose myself to her.

We're both honest in stating out needs and accommodating each other. When we want to go to the show and we want to see different movies, it's not, "You want to see that show just to piss me off." It's "OK, lets see Dumbo this week and Vampire Biker Chicks from Hell (my girlfriend's choice) next week." It's that simple.

Sexually, we haven't had to compromise. We are very compatible. (Under the "new me" regime, if we weren't, we wouldn't be together.) When I want something sexually, she has never said no, and I have never said no to her either. In fact, it's been an enthusiastic, "Hell yes!".

For example, while this isn't an "I want a blowjob story," my girlfriend and I were sitting by the fire at her house. I tightened my grip around her and said, "I'd really like a blow job right now."

She giggled and ran into the bedroom. I don't know where she got them, but she came out a few minutes later completely nude except she was wearing construction worker's kneepads and an old English Navy flat topped sailor's cap. I was laughing as I stood up and unzipped my pants.

I hope my experience can help other guys who are unwilling cuckolds. For me it took work and courage. It took, (and takes) introspection and knowing that you deserve to have your needs met. State your needs as clearly as you can and accept that there are going to be some deal breakers on both sides. A "no" doesn't mean "rejection," it just means you are going to have to decide your limits and stand your ground. Try to really know yourself and your partner and be open to learn new things.

In my case, one of the things I learned: If you leave your drink on the flat-topped hat while you're getting a blow job, you're drink is going to spill. And that's nobody's fault