The Evolution of Moira's MarriagebyMiguel59©
I didn't run, but crawled into cuckolding my husband. He planted the seed, but together we made it blossom taking it from pillow talk to lifestyle. His desire he confessed to me years ago and while it intrigued me it also frightened me. I took my wedding vows seriously. It took me a while to wrap my hands around the whole idea of me dating, much less being physically intimate with other men, while he did neither.
Over the decades we have been together something happened. The idea of not going out with my husband or my girlfriends but with another man appealed to me. I still had no intention of having sex with anyone but my husband but the pillow talk we shared after I admitted to him I wanted to spend time with other men pursuing activities we both enjoyed which were ones he and I didn't do together. I also admitted the idea of another man pursuing me very flattering even if that pursuit was nothing more than friendship and shared interests.
My husband made it easy for me to share with him my feelings. His lack of jealousy, his encouragement, and his obvious arousal encourage me to open up as my feelings and thoughts on what I wanted to experience from dating outside of marriage changed. As time went on I wanted more than just hanging out with another man and being his female buddy. I craved more than friendship. I wanted a relationship. I told myself and insisted to him it wasn't something physical I wanted but emotional. I told him he completely satisfied me sexually. It wasn't what he wanted to hear but he didn't see the glass as half empty, but half full. He firmly believed the emotional relationship I wanted outside of marriage would lead to a physical one. He listened to my protests but didn't believe them. I was positive I could stay faithful while dating and fostering the kind of emotional intimacy I sought. I wanted a friendship with a man to be as deep as the one I had with my husband, but without the sexual intimacy.
Opening up to each other changed our marriage and our physical intimacy. He encouraged me to pursue shared activities with other men, to date them, and to develop the kind of relationship I sought. I supported him too, to be my submissive, mentally cuckolded husband.
We became more than husband and wife. I was his boss, his mistress, and he was my cuck. He began to defer to me all the time. My word became law. He had me read several articles on female led relationships and pointed me to different blogs written by women in female led marriages. In addition to all the outside chores he did as a man he now did all the domestic inside jobs I used to do. I learned how deep down many, if not most, husbands want to submit to their wives. They want recognition for submitting but the rewards they want aren't what most would call a reward.
My cuck wanted to be spanked and he wanted to be denied, not just intercourse but ownership of all his ejaculations. He also expressed a desire to be physically aroused to the point of almost climaxing. It was hard for me to accept because what he wanted seemed so selfish. I got all the pleasure while he got nearly none. Disciplining him was initially very difficult for me. I had never spanked anyone, not even our kids. Now my husband wanted me to spank him for whatever I decided he had done to deserve a lashing. Hearing his deepest fantasies made me question how much I really knew him, but I promised him I would give it a try.
The first step I took in this long journey was to test his sincerity, to separate reality from fantasy. I unlearned all the practices I had began when we dated and later married. I began to flirt more when I wasn't with him. I would later tell him and describe in detail who the man was I flirted with, his name, what about him appealed to me, what we talked about, and whether he interested me. My cuck's reaction was promising. His face grew red, then pale from being jealous, aroused, and ashamed. My actions irritated him but one glance down at his shorts told me how he really felt.
Leading him by the hand I took him to our bedroom where we both hurriedly stripped. As his mistress and boss I got on the bed, opened my legs and implored him to put his mouth to good use. He and I had always enjoyed cunnilingus, me on the receiving end and he doing the licking, but after sharing everything he really got into eating me. Thirty minutes to an hour, three or four orgasms and I would have to tell him to stop. I would then tell him to go in me. He would be so hard. In less than a minute he would climax with an intensity so strong it looked almost painful.
Afterwards we would like in each other's arms, talk about how good the sex was, and I would steer the conversation back to what caused us to be in bed. Satiated he was relaxed enough so I could tell him more about my conversation with another man and what about him I found attractive. He proved to be a good listener and true to his word wasn't jealous, but encouraging. He also gave me insight into what that man might be thinking.
More baby steps followed. Flirting in front of my girlfriends; telling him or him hearing about it later from one of them. I continued going out without him. A man would need a female for his golf foursome or a doubles match or for a bowling tournament and I would volunteer. I would spend all day or evening getting hot and sweaty and then come home and share with my cuck everything that happened especially if I sensed an attraction. Of course, while I'm talking he is busy between my legs pleasuring me with his tongue, working himself up, humping the mattress or my foot, climaxing while bringing me to orgasm orally, then apologizing for not being able to control himself, cleaning up his cum with a damp washcloth. After he came and I came I made it a point to keep talking about what happened, telling him in great detail about any sparks I saw between my partner and I. These pillow talks almost always ended up with another round of his head between my legs.
We also made progress in me assuming the lead of our marriage. I was nervous as to how far I could push him, but it didn't take me long to figure out it was very far. I quit doing anything around the house, began making suggestions which turned into requests, and employed some of the techniques I had read about to keep him submissive and motivated. It didn't take long before he was fawning himself all over me. If I needed a blanket, a drink, or a snack, he sensed it before I did. We watched what I wanted. He asked if he could watch a show. If it interested me I said yes; if it didn't I said no and told him to go watch it in another room but to keep the volume low so he could hear me if I needed him.
The house never looked better and I loved the way he focused on me expecting almost nothing in return. I made it a point to not lavish too much praise as I remembered being in charge and a cuckoldress was about my contentment, not his. I had read enough to be wary of my submissive topping from the bottom and to know punishment and denial were the ultimate forms of praise he sought.
I now began to openly flirt in front of him and to devote more of my energies to a smaller, but select pool of men I sensed were as attracted to me as I was to them. I used my cuck's money, not mine, to buy these men gifts or to cook them dinners which I took them to or to pay for our outings. They were kept men, on my cuck's dime. His reaction encouraged me as he shared my enthusiasm.
I learned humiliation aroused him. The more I praised the qualities of other men and the more open I was about it in front of not just him, but especially in front of others, the more excited he became. While I never came from intercourse alone needing to have my clitoris rubbed as he fucked me I enjoyed the penetration and the closeness not to mention the memories of he and I making our own family. He no longer craved intercourse as he believed other men were better at it and I deserved their more talented cocks to his. When he didn't climax while eating me he seldom lasted a dozen strokes while in me and if I wanted to orgasm while he fucked me I had to rub fast because he would be done before I was even getting into the rhythm of things.
I wasn't too frustrated and I understood what was going on with him psychologically but I did miss a long fucking. I had always enjoyed sucking his cock but his enthusiasm for being on the receiving end had waned. He said other cocks were better, that I was thinking of theirs while sucking his and he was certain my sucking was making me wetter and ready to be licked. He was of course wrong. I wasn't thinking of other men's cocks and I certainly liked sucking his, but he planted the seed. I began to think more about the cocks my small circle of male friends possessed, and if they were bigger and better. Thinking about sucking their cocks made me wetter and wanting my cuck's tongue to bring me to orgasm. It wasn't long before I found myself telling my cuck he was right. I didn't want to suck his cock and considered it useless, a boy toy when I needed a man sized tool. Instead of causing him to pull away it drove him to please me with his tongue.
Instead of his hard penis he began using dildos while he ate or fingered me. I enjoyed the penetration but it wasn't the same as a real flesh and blood cock attached to a man feeling the weight of his body as he thrust in and out of me. Absent too was the moment where his thrusts became faster and his cock harder soon followed by his fertile seed emptying into me. I loved to watch my husband's face as he came inside me and as his thrusts became shallower, his penis going soft inside of me, and laying on top of me afterwards, but those days were rarer and rarer.
I did what a good wife would do to her cuckold, submissive husband. I belittled him telling him that dildo felt ten times better than his penis and never suffered premature ejaculation. I then told him how much I needed a real man to fuck me. What I said hurt but I knew it was what he wanted to hear for it wasn't a minute or two later he wouldn't be trying to eat me again.
Leaps followed the baby steps. One man I interacted with almost daily and with whom I did a lot of socializing with I knew was attracted to me. I spotted him so many times looking at me when he thought I didn't notice. The attraction wasn't one sided as I began to think about him constantly. We clicked on so many levels. Still testing the waters I invited him to dinner. He brought up my married status pointing to my ring, mentioning my cuck's name. I told him I wanted the two of them to meet and my cuck knew all about our friendship. He looked worried, but he said yes.
At home my cuck's reaction was two parts arousal and one part reluctance tinged with pinches of jealousy and worry. It was the rubber meeting the road, reality replacing fantasy. Arousal won out. On the kitchen floor he dropped to his knees reached under my dress, yanked down my panties, and ate me. All the while he's licking me I'm telling him how attracted I am to this man, how I want to start dating this man, and how I need his support now more than ever. We both had strong orgasms me flooding his face with my juices and he spurting cum into his pants. He came so much he had to go and change pants as his cum left a very big and visible wet spot on his pants.
Before we actually had my friend over for dinner we did a lot of talking. I insisted on bounds for his behavior as I didn't want his enthusiasm to show and scare off my friend. We also talked about our kids and their reaction to mom having a male friend. I decided we just not make a big deal of it and they wouldn't either. I reminded my cuck this was a dinner in our home. I wanted my friend to be relaxed in front of us and to reach his own conclusion regarding my availability. I had cast my line. The rest was up to him.
Dinner went well. My cuck and friend got along; after we ate our kids scattered leaving the house to the adults. My cuck made himself scarce cleaning up the kitchen, refreshing our empty glasses with more wine and my friend and I sat on the sofa and watched t.v. I gave him the remote and told him to pick something he wanted to watch. The departure of our kids for what I knew would be hours, being in my own house, my cuck keeping his distance, the wonderful dinner my cuck helped me to prepare, the easy flow of conversation, the absence of awkwardness, and the wine both relaxed and emboldened me. I was getting a taste of that closeness with another man I desperately craved. I wanted our friendship to lead to a relationship.
Like me, he enjoys sports and we were soon watching a game cheering on the same team. I caught him more than a few times staring at me. I smiled at him to let him know I knew and that I welcomed those glances. During the game we continued to chat. We talked movies. There was one playing he wanted to see. I asked him if he wanted to go with me to see it. He quickly replied he did but then asked if it was okay with my husband. I told him not to worry about my husband's okay as I didn't need his permission. His eyes got big as he dissected what I was implying. I told him I didn't need my husband's permission for who I have as friends.
I regretted using the word friends to describe our status but it fit. He then did something that surprised me in a very good way. He took my hand in his and squeezed it telling me he saw us as very good friends. He squeezed my hand and I squeezed his back. We sat side by side propped up in the recliner sofa his left hand holding my right while I snuggled against him watching the game. Anyone observing us would have thought we were a long married couple enjoying a relaxing moment.
I looked at him and turned my body ever so slightly wanting him to feel the press of my breast against his body. Blessed with big breasts since I hit puberty I was thankful for how they drew his appreciative stare. I wondered what it would feel like to run my fingers through his hair or his hairy chest. Then I began fantasizing about kissing him. And not just a few kisses but a long make out session like my cuck and I and the boyfriends I had before him used to have.
The wine and my desire compelled me to riskier behavior. My nipples were so hard they hurt and my panties were getting wetter by the second. I decided to throw caution to the wind and see just how ready my cuck and friend were ready to take the next step.
I whispered to Lance, "I need to go potty." We let go of each other's hands.
Knowing my cuck was out of sight but not out of earshot I called out his name, "Clayton, come here."
Lance's body went rigid upon hearing me call for Clayton.
"Relax," I told him.
Clayton appeared wearing of all things his pajamas and a bathrobe. He had slippers on his feet. I wondered when he changed.
"What are you doing?" I asked still snuggled against Lance.
He looked nervous and excited. He tried to keep his eyes focused on mine but he kept glancing at Lance.
"Catching up on work in my office."
I laughed at his use of the word office. It was an inside joke as he had no office, but used the dining room as his office. It also wasn't unusual for him to bring work home.
"Be a dear and refill our wine glasses. And bring us a blanket. I'm a bit chilled."
I don't know if he was rebelling at being bossed around in front of another man or he was feeling overwhelmed by seeing us together but he didn't immediately move.
"Clayton, quit gawking. Now get us our wine." Then I did something I had never done. I told him to hurry, "Chop, chop."
I turned back to Lance who was as frozen as my husband and said, "I'll be back."
I lowered the recliner, stood up, and walked right beside my husband whose eyes I noticed looked glassy. They also weren't focused on mine but my very hard nipples which were clearly visible under my blouse.
I stood there for just a second or two letting him take it all in. Seeing him look at me I could tell I was pushing his buttons in the right order.
I gently reminded him, "Clayton are you going to stand there or do as I asked?"
I didn't give him a chance to answer and walked right past him to the half bath in the front of the house. I left my cuck and my friend alone. I heard their voices but couldn't make out what they were saying.
I really did need to pee. Afterwards I wiped myself dry noticing just how much my vagina was lubricating. The toilet paper was slick. I ran a finger between my labia and tasted myself thinking how much Clayton would enjoy tasting me later. I stood up flushed, washed my hands, and as I toweled them dry decided to ditch my bra.
I quickly took off my blouse, unsnapped and removed my bra. I hung it on the hook above the door. I studied my breasts, pinched and twisted each nipple, and said a silent prayer over how firm they were after breastfeeding four kids. I hoped they would soon be nourishing a new mouth, but it wouldn't be milk he would be getting but pleasure.
I put my blouse back on and made my way back to the living room.
The room was noticeably darker. Clayton was nowhere to be seen.
Lance was sitting where I left him staring at me. I smiled at him. He smiled back. At that moment I wanted to kiss him so bad.
I sat down, popped the recliner button scooted next to him. I noticed my glass was full.
"Miss me," I asked.
"I did," he answered.
"Who turned down the lights?"
"It was Clayton's idea," Lance answered.
I picked up my glass and took a rather large swallow. He did the same.
"This wine is very good. It's making me feel very relaxed," I commented.
"It is good. Me too," he replied.
I then decided to go for broke remembering a coach I used to have in high school who encouraged us to go bold or go home.
I put my glass down and waited until he put his down. I then straddled him.
On top of him, my breasts literally level with his mouth I was thrilled when he placed his hands on my back and hugged me to him. We kissed ever so slowly at first and then open mouthed. Soon it was all tongue and the kisses would last for an eternity. Thirty minutes into our make out session I unbuttoned my blouse and for the first time since before my marriage to my cuck another man enjoyed my breasts. His mouth felt good. He was rougher than Clayton sucking hard on one breast while using his hand to squeeze, caress, twist, and pull the other. Every minute or so he switched breasts. My tits loved every second of it, but I wanted to make out some more. He was a great kisser.
He must have been thinking the same thing because he took his mouth off of my breast, put his hand on it, and told me as I pressed my lips against his, "You have amazing tits."
Not just good, or even great, but amazing. "Thank you," I answered, "They are yours anytime you want."
Being on top I felt in control but I also felt my resolve weakening and I didn't want it to weaken. What we were doing felt too good. Like I did with Clayton and every boyfriend before him I slowed things down before they got out of control.
He went from caressing my breasts to running his hands down my back and around to my front where he tried unfastening my pants.
I broke from our kiss and as much as I wanted him to continue told him, "No. Only first and second base tonight."
He looked incredulous and sounded frustrated, but not angry, "Really? I want you so bad right now."
I assured him, "I want you too, but tonight this is far as I let you go."
For a second I wondered if I had broken the mood but when he pressed his mouth to mine I knew it wasn't. He moved his hands to my hips and then to my ass. He has much bigger hands than Clayton and he began to squeeze each of my cheeks pressing my crotch against his. He shifted his body and I became very aware for the first time just how excited and hard he was. My vulva was wide open straddling him and it felt good rubbing myself against his hardness.