Yoga and Cuckoldry for Couples

My wife Sally is a yoga instructor whose latest series, Yoga, Cuckoldry, and Mindfulness for Couples, has been well received. Guided meditation, instruction, and class rules and norms are designed to intimidate husbands, empower wives, and gratify alphas.

Class dress codes embolden wives for maximum exposure and titillation while husbands' attire is meant to accentuate our insufficiencies and deprive us of any masculine footing. Most of the women heartily buy into this practice, and celebrate being on display regardless of their shape. A fraction of them, and all of their husbands, experience deep embarrassment. According to Sally, we must unlearn our sense of shame in our joyful journey to enlightenment. The only joy Husbands are allowed is the twisted gratification of a cuckold's humiliation. Our disjointed wiring likewise exhilarates those of us who are required to bear the indignities of subordination, and emasculation. The last sensation any of us should feel is manliness, which is instead reserved for the few and fortunate alphas who are also called "heroes." These masculine men arrive unaccompanied, and by special invitation only. Like Hindu gods, they dress as they please, most often choosing thin fabric shorts that reveal the contours of their cocks. Our roles are instantly and always identifiable.

Role identification is also supported with coordinated poses and instruction. Sally might, for example, instruct husbands to "point your little penis to the floor," while encouraging wives to "exhale, and touch your toes," for the viewing pleasure of the alpha standing behind her. A cuckold might receive an unexpectedly loud spank on his bottom for poor form, while a hero's pose is corrected as she presses his perineum ("taint") or leans her firm breasts into him. She might playfully "set free" a wife's boobs or buttocks for the momentary exhilaration of exposure to an adjacent hero.

Class rules and norms further support the journey to cuckoldry:

1. Husbands must stay put behind their mats.

2. Wives are free to roam about the room to flirt with, and be freely groped by alphas as husbands helplessly look on.

3. Alphas are encouraged to lustfully handle all wives, but they will earn special favor for going out of their way to feel up wives who might otherwise be overlooked for lack of conventional attractiveness.

Sally's classes have always been popular with women at the local studio. In fact, part of what attracted me to her when we started dating was how liked she was by other women. She's the "earthy" type, understated in her appearance, she wears no makeup, and does not dress to accentuate her firm, round ass or her larger-than-average breasts. She has shoulder length brown, hair, radiant blue eyes, and a smile that could melt Manhattan. In the beginning, she was amazing in bed and provided me with daily expert blowjobs. She sucked my cock in a parked car in the middle of New York City, and walked with me into an 8th Avenue adult bookstore just because it was kinky, and because she knew that I would love it. She told me about her experience visiting sex clubs with her former boyfriend who, in her words, had a "huge cock." After our son had been born, her desire for orgasm had faded from always, to once in a while. And now at thirty-six, sex (with me) is just another item on her to-do list.

Sally's inspiration for connecting the practice of yoga with cuckoldry began with the need to make up for lost business during the 2020 pandemic. On our shielded, private patio at home, Sally offered individual and semi-private lessons. As June became July and afternoon temperatures soared into the 80s and 90s, she'd stripped down to shorter yoga pants and a sports bra, consistent with Bikram Yoga. As students followed suit, I couldn't believe my good fortune. Beautiful women came to my home to practice Hot Yoga for my viewing pleasure.

My sense of good fortune disappeared in a heartbeat the day that Billy appeared for a private lesson. He was the first in a series of heroes to enjoy one-on-one training in our home. Responding to the doorbell that Friday morning, I found a strapping 25-year-old, with a man bun atop of his six-foot tall construction of wall-to-wall muscle. Wearing black shorts and a white tank top, he was unidentifiable through sunglasses and an N95 mask.

With no idea who he was, I greeted him with an unsure, "Yes?"

Respectfully, he removed his shades and pressed his thumbs to his solar plexus, offering, "My name is Billy, I believe Sally is expecting me."

As I stepped aside and gestured for him to enter, I wondered what possible business he could have with us until Sally rushed down the stairs with a smile befitting a visit from Lord Vishnu himself. As if I wasn't there, she threw her arms around him, pressed her face to his chest, and closed her eyes.

Stepping back, she looked up into his eyes and softly asked, "Did you bring it?"

Nodding in the affirmative, he handed her the official results of his PCS test, confirming that he was Covid free. Before he could respond to my invitation to unmask and have a drink, Sally directed me to take our son to his tennis lesson, which seemed odd to me, given the time.

"It's 11:30, The lesson isn't for another hour!" I whined.

When Sally did not respond, I knew the score. My heart sank. I was going to be cuckolded right there in my home! Notwithstanding the highlights of erotic fiction, it sucks when you learn that your wife is fucking another guy. There is a part of me and I suspect every other beta, cuckold, patsy, pushover, wimp and wuss that feels the unique despair for want of what we will never have: loyalty, reliability, or respect.

Doing my best to create the image of standing tall, I collected our son, and played the role of "Mr. Mom" while reluctantly giving Sally the space she needed to seduce her younger, masculine hero. He was going to fuck her! Soon her lips would be wrapped around his cock and she would gaze into his eyes like she used to do with me! Battered by alternating bouts of confusion, sadness, and shame, I was swept into a downward spiral. I ran the scenarios over and over again in my head as to how we'd come to this moment. I analyzed events from every angle without coming any closer to accepting that, from a distance of less than a mile away, my wife, my goddess, my love was about to go all the way with someone else.

In the confines of my air-conditioned car, I sat next to "Junior" outside of the tennis complex for the longest hour of my life. The questions ate at me like termites: Were they making out at that very moment? How big was his cock? Were they inside, where the air-conditioning would harden her nipples under his touch, or outside, where the heat and humidity would motivate her to an advanced state of undress? Did she calculate in advance for their rendezvous to follow the end of her period by two days?

Since bad news is much better than no news, I felt saved from the unbearable by a wife's love when I received her text message at 12:31 PM reading, "get your little wiener home now!"

Then there were the accompanying images. Looking like a couple on a Christmas card, Billy and Sally were seated together on a yoga mat looking into the camera (it must have been mounted on a "selfie stick.") In the first image, he leaned back on his hands while Sally leaned back against his chest, facing forward. In the next photo, she had turned her upper body sideways and placed her hands on his shoulders. Maybe it wasn't so bad! Maybe she wants me to shoot a few photos for the website. My optimism was crushed upon viewing the third photo; his hands were clearly inside of her sports bra. He was feeling her up! I could not see the evil business under the fabric.I knew I had to be there as fast as my wheels would get me home.

Springing up the stairs two-at-a-time, I stopped at the sliding glass doors that separated our patio from the rest of the house. Through the glass I saw Sally sitting in Billy's lap, facing forward, with her legs wrapped around his waist as they stared into each other's eyes. I couldn't move. Maybe I was afraid of what might happen if I broke their mystical connection, or maybe I was afraid of Sally's annoyance for the interruption, or maybe I was just afraid, period.

When Sally waved for me to come out on to the porch, I felt like a trespasser, and I didn't know whether to cum or cry when their lips met. She untangled herself from her tantric partner and directed his movements and his breathing. Within seconds, Billy, clad only in a jockstrap, mirrored her actions until they stood before each other. This is when I noticed that she wasn't wearing pants. The only garment below her waist was a narrow black thong. Covered in sweat, Sally approached me and gently placed her hands on my shoulders.

My wife looked me square in the eye and asked, "Are you gonna be alright?"

She wasn't asking for permission to fuck him. She was confirming it! My failures as a man that had brought us to that moment had happened over the course of a decade. This was not a force I could stop.

With less timidity than I thought possible, I answered, "Yes!"

The hug that followed was sweet, but very short. As she pulled over an additional yoga mat and gestured where I should sit, my throbbing erection confirmed just how "alright" I was going to be!

Returning to face Billy, Sally fixed her eyes on his and removed her sports bra. Seconds later, her thong too was gone, leaving her as God made her, but for a large wristwatch. After anointing her palms with lavender oil, she stepped behind Billy and directed him into a Tree Pose. Like vines growing around a statue, she wrapped her arms around him as her oiled hands wandered across his broad chest, over his ripped stomach and into his jock strap. Before I could catch my breath, his cock was out like an angry eel, waving from side to side and pointing skyward. With the concentration of a nurse examining her patient she caressed and stroked his cock in a hand-over-hand pattern. She briefly looked at me as she held his scrotum and rolled his testicles across her fingertips. As they reversed positions, his jockstrap fell to the deck before Billy's massive hands wandered across my wife's body like he owned it. He massaged her neck and shoulders before finally embracing her from behind with one hand squeezing her breast, and the other resting upon her sex. As he manipulated her clitoris in its hood, his oiled, oversized dong awkwardly poked at her back before sliding across her ribs from one side and then the other. To accommodate him, Sally again grabbed his cock and ended the Yoga lesson.

Turning to face him again, without letting go of his erection, she stood up on her toes and kissed him. Within seconds, I could see that their mouths were merged as their tongues lovingly wrestled. Coming up for air as a trail of saliva maintained the connection between their mouths, she asked me to toss her another yoga mat which she folded and folded again before placing it on the deck so that she could kneel before him. Taking his cock into her mouth, she then gestured for me to kneel next to her and stared into my eyes as his cock stretched her mouth almost comically. According to The Yamas (yoga code of right living,) this exercise of looking into my eyes while sucking another man's cock supported the guidance of my spiritual advance toward acceptance of who I am, and of my limitations. It worked! I was mesmerized by her glowing blue eyes.

I should have been enraged, or in tears, instead of aroused, as her expertise in servicing a much larger cock confirmed what I had long suspected. The way she swallowed his cock and twisted her hands in opposite directions on his shaft could only be the result of "practice makes perfect."I was only briefly distracted by the question of who else's cock had been in her mouth. It didn't matter. We were all living in the moment.

As if she were leading me into the next life, with her eyes still fixed on mine, Sally allowed his engorged penis to fall from her mouth. Holding his cock as it glistened in her saliva, she brought her face to mine and kissed me. Much to my surprise, her tongue wandered into my mouth and danced with mine. I cherished the sensation of making out with the woman I love more than ever as I came to embrace our standing with Billy towering over us. Casting my subordinated station into permanence, Sally alternated between tongue kissing me and licking his cock and hairy ball bag. Without thinking, I leaned forward when she presented the head of his cock to my lips. I was ready to accept it and bless their union, but she pulled it away before I could get my mouth on it. I was not required to suck his cock to confirm my position as the humiliated cuckold; it was established when I confirmed that I would. Sally then reached her hands to the sky. Billy, in his hypermasculine form, gently lifted her onto her feet before his arms enveloped her now-trembling frame.

Sally then directed my movements, "Hands flat on the floor, inhale." It all seemed completely surreal as she continued, "exhale, walk your feet back as far as you can."

Only those of us who have actually endured an adulterous affair from the wrong side can understand how meaningful it is. Life will never be the same after your wife has sex with someone else, which made her instructions all the more intense as she prepared me to watch them fuck. A few commands later, Sally had me standing and facing them. Again, she placed her hands on my shoulders and looked into my eyes while Billy, with his massive cock swinging ahead of him, firmly took hold of her hips with both hands. There was no ill will; she was not deliberately humiliating me. This was an exercise of the highest and most noble order. Like a goddess with 3 eyes, she was expressing love for me (advancing my self-awareness,) sharing joy with others (Billy,) and celebrating her own creative life force in the form of sexual energy.

"Just a sec," she said, taking her hands off of my shoulders, as if she needed to tie her shoe.

Instead, she turned around and bent over to lubricate the head of his cock with her mouth so that he could easily slide into her. Seconds later, all I could see was the back of her head bobbing up and down with her ponytail thrashing from side to side. And all I could hear were Billy's moans over the rhythmic slurping sounds that her mouth created on his cock. It wasn't until that moment that I realized her gag reflex was gone. So too was the hair on her pussy and asshole. Without contemplating when these changes came to pass, I took a step back, fell to one knee, and licked her asshole.

When I took hold of her hips and plunged my tongue through her anal ring, she abruptly resumed her previous position and said, "No thanks!"

Apparently pleasuring her in any way was forbidden to me in this role. Placing her hands back on to my shoulders and presenting her hindquarters to Billy, she stopped me from taking off my sweaty shirt.

"Inhale," she commanded." Hands at your sides, fingers pointed to the floor, exhale, keep your clothes on and do not touch yourself." In a moment of clarity, I became aware of our sacred bargain. As long as I followed her instructions, Sally would not banish me into the darkness. I would be all right as long as I could stay in their presence and witness the proceedings. This became my mission. I dared not disobey her. As Billy pushed the head of his cock into her, she looked at me and smiled. I wanted her to know how much I loved her. I wanted to show her that I knew she deserved him. I wanted to please her, but all I could do was follow instructions as he pushed into her.

Again, she looked directly into my eyes and calmly stated, "his cock is so fucking big!"

Sally winced in pain as he slowly pressed the rest of himself into her. Mercifully, Billy allowed her time to adjust to the coke-bottle-sized object that he was pushing so deeply inside of her body.

"Oh my god! oh my god!," she cried, exactly as she had when our son had emerged from the same place twelve years earlier.

Her eyes closed as she concentrated her breathing in time with his powerful thrusting. He was dripping with sweat as he picked up speed and his breathing deepened. I noticed his inflamed nostrils, and, for the first time, appreciated the term "Bull" to describe the man who fucks another man's wife. Without warning, and appearing as if it happened without consciousness, Sally briefly took her hands off of my shoulders and yanked my shorts down to my knees. My hard -little penis was exposed to all eyes and to the elements, re-affirming how we got there.

Billy's response, "Oh Shit!" were the first words I had heard him utter since my return.

Stepping forward and pushing all the way into her, Billy then took hold of her thighs and lifted them as if they were the arms of a wheelbarrow. As her feet left the deck, and her body became horizontal, Sally opened her eyes and tightened her grip on my shoulders as she faced the unfamiliarity of losing control. Moments ago, she'd directed this massive hero in all of his movements. She'd told him where to look and even when to breathe. In a complete reversal, she didn't even control the lower half of her own body. It was his. He could have seriously harmed her in this precarious position just by maintaining his grip and stepping back. While impaled on his weapon, she would have fallen face first into the deck.

Sally reached a frenzied pitch and cried out every time Billy plunged into her. As frustrated as I was from being unable to relieve my undersized, aching erection, Sally too was frustrated. Holding onto my shoulders for dear life, she could not touch her clitoris or obtain a favorable angle against his cock during its violent passage into and out of her body.

Her words now timed with his thrusts. "Billy! Please, please let me down! Let's try a new pose!"

Complying with her wishes, Billy pulled his cock from her dripping pussy and gently placed her feet back onto the deck. Sally turned around, looked up at him, and smiled before jumping into his arms and throwing her legs around his waist.

Leaning against me for support she said, "Hold me up honey, okay?"

Of course, I followed her directions. I used my body to buttress her weight while holding her sweet ass with both hands so that she could reposition herself and resume fucking. I was again strangely aroused as I looked over her shoulders and down at his massive cock. I had to bend my knees so that she could sit in my hands. A better man would have at least tried to enter her bunghole, but I had no chance. All points of entry into her body were off limits.

Billy again took hold of her thighs and entered her now- folded body. Leaning against me for support, her hands were free to worship his frame. Her fingertips lightly glided across his chest and stomach as he plunged his massive cock into her with increasing force.

She gazed into his eyes and gently pinched his nipples crying out, "Fuck me Billy...it's so good! Shove your big fat cock into me!"

Billy remained silent, sinking all the way into her and back out again. the throes of pleasure and building intensity, as if she were chanting a new mantra, she screamed, "Billllyyyyyy!"

As Billy enjoyed the pleasures of my wife's body, all I managed to accomplish was unauthorized dry humping against the base of her spine. His discipline was challenged by Sally's powerful inner muscles, squeezing his cock and trying to get him to ejaculate. Sally too was challenged with the physical pain of his enormous cock stretching the walls of her vagina, but it was a pain she was happy to endure. My only challenge was emotional. In my front row seat at the execution of my own manhood, I held the hips of the love of my life to better assist the entry of another man's cock into her.