Becoming His

Hello my beautiful readers!

Since this chapter is Eddie's pov of many of the same events, most of the spanish is the same as last chapter but I will add the new words/phrases here. Again, forgive my ability to write/translate correctly.

Muñequita -dolly

Muñeca bonita -pretty doll

Mi amor -my love

Seis -six

Also, since the romance part is mxm that is the reason for the gay male category, despite other aspects in the tags/story :)

Much love, xx

*******

Eddie's Pov:

When Jessica suggested a night out together, since we'd finally managed to complete our move into the new house, I agreed with a fairly positive outlook on the evening. Things were going kinda well for me lately so I thought it had potential to be a great night. I got a promotion at work, which meant we had to move, but we were both ready for a change so that part made it better. My wife seemed happier, which was relief since I knew I wasn't the type of husband she deserved. I knew part of her excitement had to do with the change, which I was proud to make happen for her.

The other part was that she was glad to have a new hunting ground, which I was less proud of but just as willing to give. We'd pretty much exhausted all acceptable options for a third where we last lived, so I knew she was looking forward to seeing new faces and feeling new... anyways. I always felt so conflicted when I thought about how her options for new bedfellows was the main reason my wife was so happy right now. I understood of course but I'd be lying if I said it didn't bother me.

My wife is breathtakingly beautiful. She has the most gorgeous green eyes, the best smile and the cutest little nose. She also has lovely, long hair that hangs in ringlets down to her waist. She's always been in shape and had a flat stomach but somehow she was also extremely curvy with large breasts, thick thighs and a fat ass. She was also quite tall, taller than me, she could crush me, but I liked that. For some reason I'd always enjoyed being the smaller partner. As far as wives went, she was a complete stunner, especially in heels. Any man would and should be proud to have her on his arm and I was proud. I was lucky enough to know that not only was she gorgeous, she was also fun and sweet and thoughtful. Jessica was my closest, and often only, friend. She had been for years and I felt my most comfortable when I was with her. Even though she didn't know everything about me but that was okay because no one did. That's how I wanted it.

I was thrilled when she said yes to being my wife. My family loved her and I adored her and I couldn't believe she wanted and accepted me. We got married young and those beginning years were sweet and loving and I wouldn't trade them for anything but as time went on, my wife started to change. Not in her affection towards me, no. She was the same as she had always been, when it came to how she treated me in general, but in the bedroom... She started to get a little more demanding and that was difficult for me to deal with mentally.

When she started asking for more, it was extremely confusing for me and the more demanding she got, the more my confidence wilted. I was used to Jessica being perfectly happy with the fact that I would drop to my knees to worship her with my mouth whenever she asked. I was used to taking care of her by way of massages or drawing her a bath, cleaning, doing the laundry, taking care of the yard, helping her dress, paying her bills or even cooking for us. I was used to using whatever toy she requested to bring her as much pleasure as she demanded. I loved being able to please my wife without my cock being the focus. It wasn't until seven years into our marriage that she began trying to make me fuck her like a "real husband."

The first time she begged, I was so taken off guard that I laughed because I thought she was kidding or maybe she was trying to humiliate me. Unfortunately, she wasn't kidding and my wrong reaction ended up turning into one of the worst fights we ever had. That's when I began to realize that maybe my wife was unsatisfied with me. I couldn't understand why she suddenly felt this way though, when she always knew what she was getting with me. One of the reasons I was always so thrilled that Jessica wanted to marry me was because of how difficult all penetrative sex was for me.

My brain associated penile penetration with pain. As a result, I couldn't manage to keep an erection for more than a few minutes maximum, if I could get hard at all; and that was just me fucking someone or thinking about fucking someone or trying to fuck my own hand. The idea of being fucked anally or orally with a toy or something real was downright terrifying. Once, Jessica suggested pegging. I'm pretty sure that was the one and only time I ever cried in front of her and that was as just from her talking about it. The whole ordeal was extremely embarrassing for me but Jessica always said she understood and that it was fine. Besides, we both found pleasure in how how I could take care of her in other ways, so I thought we were good.

By the time she asked me to fuck her again, we'd begun testing the waters in the bdsm world. My wife was naturally very dominant and I passively went along with whatever she wanted because I knew she deserved it. Sometimes I even enjoyed it too but, for me, it was never about my own fulfillment. I knew I could never give her what she asked for but I would do almost anything else and I worked so hard to prove that to her. When she still insisted I figure out a way to fuck her with my cock or she didn't see our marriage working out, I tried everything. I truly did. I finally went to a doctor and a therapist and I tried the pills, drinking, getting high from various substances, porn during sex, overstimulation, shock therapy, meditating and even hypnotization. None of it mattered or helped. My dick was simply useless.

Though I had been threatened, I still didn't know how bad my failure to perform was for my marriage, until Jessica played one of her games with me. She tied me up and sat on my face for an hour while she slowly teased my cock with her feet. The moment I got hard she jumped up and tried to fuck herself with it but after a minute and a half I lost my erection again. She got so frustrated with me that time that she screamed at me and angrily slapped me across my cheek before covering her mouth in shock over what she had done. Then she apologized over and over again until she cried, telling me she was so sorry and it didn't really matter that I couldn't get it up and that we were okay.

I didn't believe her and I could never go back to believing that everything was okay after that. To be honest, being slapped didn't really bother me since it wasn't the part that hurt. What hurt was seeing my wife angry at me for something she always knew was a problem. What hurt was making her cry because I couldn't fulfill her needs. What hurt was realizing that even though I was trying my hardest, every single day, I still wasn't good enough to deserve her. What hurt was realizing that I was indeed a failure of a man because why the hell wouldn't my body respond to her? She was a goddess. Clearly I was the problem.

It wasn't surprising to me. I'd internalized that concept as a teen but I thought I'd overcome it. I was successful in my career, I made a good amount of money, I had a big beautiful house and a gorgeous wife that never had to lift a finger for a thing. She could genuinely spend her days shopping and I'd still come home, do the chores, cook, pay the bills, play her little sex games and take care of her. I didn't require much from her because I knew I couldn't give her what she really wanted and needed. I treated her like a queen but it wasn't enough. My wife required a type of physical intimacy that I couldn't provide and I hated myself for that. It was a constant cloud that hung over me and my accomplishments.

When she timidly approached me, three days after slapping me, about maybe having a threesome, I almost breathed out a sigh of relief. I'd been scared she was going to leave me. There was no one I was emotionally closer to than my wife and the thought of her dropping me because I couldn't stay hard was like a knife to my heart. Thankfully, she wasn't thinking about that. She was just trying to get creative and I willingly supported her, even offering that I should just watch while she played.

She had questioned me on that because she felt uncomfortable with the idea of getting pleasure without me being involved but I wouldn't let her feel bad. There was literally no other solution in my mind. If I wanted Jessica to be happy then I had to let some other man step in for me. I convinced her that I wouldn't get much out of someone else trying to touch me and I didn't want to touch anyone but my wife, which led to the discussion of rules and limits. The list of things I wouldn't allow was small but unyielding and my wife agreed to abide by them. The rules were as follows:

1. I refused to get completely naked when we had a play partner over

2. I refused to be fucked anally or orally by anyone, including my wife

3. I refused to touch another man or let him touch me directly but if Jessica wanted a woman I wasn't opposed to letting her use me too. As long as they didn't try to gang up on me too much.

4. I got to watch and clean up after

5. She got to punish me if I ever stepped out of line

6. She wouldn't leave me for anyone

7. We would always use a stranger

Number four was particularly important to me but I tried to be casual about it when it was first brought up. I knew if Jessica refused to let me, I'd accept that but I really wanted to be included in some small way and thankfully, she allowed it. Part of the reason I wanted this was because I derived pleasure from seeing my wife feel pleasure, even if I couldn't perform a physical response to prove that. I loved seeing her enjoy her sexuality and who was performing the pleasuring didn't matter to me as much. On the other hand, watching was also torture and a form of punishment upon myself. I had to watch what I could never do and knowing I was incapable ate me up inside but it also gave me a twisted sort of satisfaction. Those feelings of inadequacy and envy mixed together with the visual stimuli of watching mostly men couple with my wife, was somehow arousing to me. So although I often claimed otherwise, I did get some sexual gratification out of our arrangement; even if the feelings were just as fleeting as they were humiliating.

I shook my head a little, trying to dispel my negative thoughts. Tonight was meant to be fun and my mood was going to ruin it. Jessica was in high spirits and she wanted to play and I kinda wanted her to play as well. Lately she'd been letting me pick out partners for her and I found I enjoyed that part, since I could cater their appearance to my liking. She promised I could pick someone tonight and I was actually feeling a little bit aroused over the idea, though the feeling wasn't strong enough to reach my dick, even if it had been free to react.

I nervously pulled at my skirt as I critically studied my reflection in the mirror. I wasn't thrilled with the idea when Jessica suggested it a few years ago but nowadays I let her dress me up like her muñequita, as if it were a ritual, and I never put up a fight. Thankfully, she didn't overly expose my body which, given her inspiration photos for tonight, I had been truly nervous about. As my reflection stared back at me I even thought I looked kind of appealing, in an extremely gay sort of way. Although I would have rather never known what I looked like in women's clothes, I couldn't deny the look had a certain allure to it.

I also liked the way the lace panties I had on, underneath my skirt, felt against my skin. In fact, I liked the feeling so much that Jessica made me wear them to work, under my suit, on days she had dates. Just so I'd be thinking about how she was cucking me with some cheap loser who couldn't afford her dinner, while I worked my ass off to pay for everything they did. Honestly, that part of our activity was hot to me. Anything that highlighted my impotence in a positive way was hot to me though. It was much nicer for me to feel like I wasn't allowed fuck my wife rather than I was incapable and I loved Jessica for spinning it that way for me.

I gazed at my reflection again and sighed in annoyance. The skirt I really could do without. The length, or lack of, made me very nervous. Jessica knew it made me nervous but she made me wear it anyways. This night wasn't about me, it was about my wife. So even though I felt uncomfortable, I went along to get along, like always. I sighed again as I tugged at the short skirt. I was worried about exposing too much but I was also extremely grateful that Jessica had allowed me to wear shorts underneath... this time. I gave up on trying to look more modest and turned the corner out of the bathroom. Only, I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings so I ran head first into a solid wall of muscle and alcohol.

"Shit. I'm sorry! Here!" I exclaimed when I realized I'd run face first into someone's drink and caused it to spill everywhere.

I frantically grabbed a napkin from a nearby table and tried my best to fix my mistake but it was no use. The napkin was cheap and thin and it began to shred against the wet fabric. By the time I realized that it was useless, the napkin had all but disappeared and my fingers were pressed up against a man's chest. What intrigued me most what how good his body felt beneath my fingertips. I hadn't touched a man like this in years and I was surprised by how nice it felt to touch a flat, muscular chest.

I slowly looked up to apologize once more and was struck by how incredibly handsome the man before me was. He had short black hair, olive skin, dark facial hair and the most lovely chocolate brown eyes. He was also very fit and easily a foot taller than me. I felt my pulse quicken over the fact that I had to crane my neck to look up at him. I felt like I could barely breath as his eyes met mine but then I realized something truly terrible. I recognized him! In an instant I felt as if someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over me and I pulled my hands away from his chest like he'd caught fire.

I tried to leave but he caught my wrist and held me tightly in place. Chills broke out all over my body as I gazed up at him helplessly and searched for the right thing to say. The words died on my lips when I saw the way he was looking down at me. Why did his grip feel so good and why did that look make me feel so dizzy? I felt my face heat up under the scrutiny of his gaze and I found myself hoping Jessica was telling the truth when she said everyone would think I looked cute tonight. Then he smirked at me and I knew he knew who I was. I remembered that smirk so well. I bit my lip and looked away, feeling ashamed to be seen like this by him but I still sort of hoped he approved.

"Eddie Anderson is that really you?" He asked and all at once I was transported to another place entirely. A simpler, more innocent time.

*******

It was the summer before my junior year of high school and I was at a party with my girlfriend Annie and my best friend Nicolas. All of us had gotten drunk and, at Nicky's request, we decided to play a juvenile game of spin the bottle. Unlike the movies, it wasn't as eventful or scandalous as I had expected. A lot of us had partners which meant very few were willing to kiss someone that they weren't already dating. Nicky, however, had always been single and claimed he was game to kiss anyone, though the bottle never landed on him when others spun it.

When it was his turn to spin, it almost looked like he was intentionally aiming for couples so that he wouldn't have to kiss anyone, so nobody really took him seriously. One time the bottle even landed between Annie and I so we both kissed him on the cheek at the same time. After that he didn't want to play anymore. He was acting so weird that entire night and I was worried about him. Later on, after we dropped my girlfriend safely off at home, Nicolas and I walked to the park and finished off another bottle of beer together.

Then we laid on the grass and talked about the next year and how we were one step closer to graduating and getting out of our small town. Nicky had this idea that me, Annie and him would all go to the same college and went on about how we could be roommates and get job's together. I didn't know if all of that would happen but I loved hearing him talk about it. Nicky was my favorite person in the entire world. I also knew it was hard to stay friends with people after high school but seeing how much he genuinely wanted this made me want it too. I was sure he could talk me into anything he wanted and I'd go along happily.

We talked and goofed off until the early hours of the morning and then Nicolas walked me back to my house since he lived five houses down from me. Before I went inside, Nicky called me back and said he wanted to show me something. I rolled my eyes at him but humored what he wanted and watched as he sat the beer bottle on the pavement. He gave it a spin and smiled triumphantly when the neck of the bottle pointed right at me.

"Hell yea!" He cheered jubilantly while I rolled my eyes at him again.

"Congratulations, you spun a bottle," I replied sardonically as I slow clapped for him.

"You don't understand," he started gleefully. "I've been trying to do that all night."

"Do what?" I asked feeling confused as I stared at the glass bottle, like it would makes sense of my best friend's nonsensical words.

I looked up again when I saw Nicolas's feet stop right in front of me but before I could react, he had me pushed up against my garage door with my arms pinned above my head.

"I've been trying to create an excuse to kiss you dummy. One I couldn't chicken out of," he whispered shyly before he slowly leaned in and pressed his warm lips against mine.

The kiss was soft and gentle and innocent and one thousand times better than kissing Annie. I'd never kissed a guy before but his lips felt so good that I melted beneath his touch. Nicky was even careful to not smash my glasses into my face. He was so tender with me and I couldn't stop myself from responding to him. When he let my wrists go so that I could wrap my arms around his neck, I hugged Nicky close and kissed him back with equal tenderness. Then my brain reminded me that I was cheating on my girlfriend. I suddenly pushed him off of me and his face went from shocked, to hurt, to angry in about 3.5 seconds.

"Hey! What the hell was that for!" He demanded as he glared down at me. "I thought that kiss was going pretty well!"

I shivered as I tried to ignore how small he made me feel and how much that feeling turned me on. Nicky made me feel like this a lot but up until now I'd never thought of it in a sexual way, however, the way he kissed me changed everything. It changed my whole life. My relationship with him felt very different now but I wanted it. I wanted him but I was taken. I wished he'd gone about this differently but then again, taking me off guard is what lead to my acceptance of the kiss in the first place. I didn't know what to do.

"I'm straight and I have a girlfriend you drunk idiot," I scowled angrily up at him rather than admit my feelings or how much I loved kissing him.

Firstly, my family was super religious and I couldn't mentally cope with my rapidly changing feelings for my best friend. I knew it wasn't safe to have feelings like this while I lived at home. Secondly, I hated the idea of cheating. I never wanted to be a cheater but now I'd become one in the span of two minutes. I instantly felt sick over it but at the same time... it was Nicky that I'd kissed. We met when we were babies and we grew up together. I cared about him and I needed him. If I had to pick between who I lost, him or Annie, I would choose to lose Annie every time. Something about all that made it feel less wrong, so I tried not to be angry at him. I was more angry at myself anyways, both for not stopping him sooner and for wanting him to kiss me more.