A Cucold's Diary

Chapter 21

What a Cuckold Needs

November 2010

Introduction

Putting aside all the cliches and porn visions of cuckolding, my wife Sally and I have found it to be a wonderful part of our marriage for the past nearly-13 years of our 27 years together. She does not hate me, she is not a bitch, and she certainly didn't marry me for my money. What we do and how we do it is the result of many years of living together and loving together, along with the assistance and advice of her very caring lover, Ted.

This story is about their most recent date, and how our relationship continues to grow and change as we all learn more about it. There's some sex, some humiliation and some "atypical" behavior for a loving couple, so read it at your pleasure or peril. I hope some of you will find it exciting, and others who are wrestling with the real-life issues of cuckolding will find it informative. Maybe even both.

Comments welcome; flames cheerfully ignored.

Cuckold Paul

October was a tough month. Work was really stressful for Sally and for me, and our kids kept us hopping, too. Amazing that they can all be out of the house and still keep us busy! So while I was really looking forward to the date which Sally and Ted had planned, Sally was completely distracted during the weeks before it. I kept waiting for her to talk about it, to tease me a little or flaunt it a little, but she never did. The 90-minute drive to the hotel the night before was consumed with work calls and kid calls, and even the hour we spent in the hotel bar did not turn the conversation to what was going to happen the next morning. I understood it -- sort of -- but by the time we got to the hotel room, I was upset. I've often said to Sally, "You can ignore me, but please TELL ME you're ignoring me. Otherwise I feel... ignored."

That night I felt really, really ignored. And not in a good way. When Sally got into bed I went into the living room of our suite and tried to masturbate, but I couldn't even get hard; I wasn't horny, just angry. I tried to sleep, and that didn't work either. I read the newspaper, read Time magazine, and then read the tourism brochures for Bethlehem, PA. When I realized I was fascinated by the description of the Peeps Christmas Festival, I knew it was bad.

In the morning I tried to eat breakfast before waking Sally, but I wasn't hungry. Finally it was time to wake her, and all the anger came out on her just as she was waking up. The bottom line was, this was not working. I could not give up sex without getting something to make it work for me -- that is, without her helping me to feel shame and humiliation enough to explain why we no longer fuck. (If you're not a cuckold, the preceding sentence sounds like the most bizarre statement you've ever read, but cuckolds get it.) I said she could go ahead and have her date with Ted, who was about 15 minutes away from the hotel at the time, but I'd just watch TV and wait for them to finish; there was nothing in me that could get into what they were doing right then.

To her credit, and as proof of what comes first in our marriage, Sally said no. She called Ted, briefly explained, and said we needed to cancel the date. We drove home together in silence, but we drove home together.

That night, after we each had a drink, I laid out my thoughts. I said Sally had three choices, and I'd accept any one of the three. First, she and I could start having sex again. Second, I could go out to a professional Dominatrix when I needed to be abused. Third, she could step out of her comfort zone and cuckold me in our daily lives, not just once a month when she was on a date with Ted. I asked her to take as much time as she needed to decide what she wanted to do.

A day later, she gave me her answer. She didn't want to stop seeing Ted. She didn't want to fuck me. And she didn't want me to go somewhere else, or to someone else, for what I needed sexually. Therefore, she would work on giving me what I needed, so she could have what she wanted.

You may ask why this was such a difficult decision for her, but if you have read previous chapters of my Diary you will understand. Sally doesn't just THINK of herself as a Good Girl, she really IS one. She's a great wife, an amazing mother, highly respected in her professional field, and a fine, upstanding member of our community. When she actually agreed to try cuckolding, I could not have been more surprised -- or more pleased. With the help of Ted, who has been her lover for nearly 13 years, she has discovered her Bad Girl side... but has, nevertheless, managed to compartmentalize it. She is a Bad Girl when she is with him, but the BG disappears as soon as we walk out of the hotel room door. It's not an act -- she really IS a Good Girl 99% of the time, and she really IS a Bad Girl on her dates, enjoying every minute with her lover. But trying to get the BG to show her face when she's not with Ted has been... well, it's been a challenge.

I can't say Sally changed overnight after our conversation, but she definitely made the effort and she definitely made progress. I asked her not to act -- not to say what cuckolding wives are "supposed to" say -- but just to speak from her heart... her Bad Girl heart. During the weeks before their rescheduled date, she found times to do that.

She told me that she had hated sex with me for years. She said it often hurt because she wasn't turned on and never got wet for me. She said that even though Ted is bigger, fucking him never hurt her because of how wet he makes her every time she is with him. She said I didn't know how to make love, and that I didn't even know how to help her when she gets off with her vibrator. She said the best things I've done for her sexually are to bring her to Ted, and to leave the room when she wants to get off. She said she was comfortable with our arrangement that we only have sex once a year on our anniversary. She said she wasn't looking forward to it, but she didn't mind doing that for me once a year as long as I understood that she didn't want more. This didn't come out all at once, but over time she said -- and as far as I could tell, MEANT -- all of it.

Of course, being a cuckold is 24/7; any time I think of sex, which is all the time, I remember that I don't get ANY... and HE does. If it were up to me, that would be the #1 topic of conversation every day. But Sally gave me enough to help me accept my place and to be able to get excited about what her affair really means.

She also said that she wanted to try using the KY Intense gel we had purchased. I asked who would apply it, and she asked if I had a preference. I told her it would mean a lot to me if Ted did. She agreed, and apparently didn't think much more about it. But I did.

The directions on the KY are one sentence long: "During foreplay, massage one drop onto the clitoris." I must have taken out the tube and read those directions a hundred times in the days before her date, because they said much more than that to me. Here were the directions as I read them:

"During foreplay, when your wife and her lover are both naked in bed, she will spread her legs so he can get between them. When he has a good, close look at her pussy, she will open her lips and give him complete access to her sex, where he will massage one drop onto her clitoris."

I'm thinking of writing to KY and suggesting they produce a version called KY Intense Affair. Same stuff, but with my version of the instructions.

Ted thought that was a great idea, too.

Actually, during the lead-up time, Ted was really helpful to me in many ways. He has previous experience with D/s, and he understood right away what had been missing on our previous attempt. Over the weeks before this new date we IM'd several times, and while he was -- and is -- a gentleman in all our conversations, he was more assertive, more dominant and yes, more insulting than he had been previously.

A brief sample:

P: I really am ashamed in front of you.

T: rightfully so. your wife wants my cock

P: ... and doesn't want mine. EVER.

T: I'll take care of her cock needs

P: thank you. what else can i say?

P: when you arrive, we will both know that you're going to cum in my wife...

T: maybe on her

T: as long as she wants it, i am very happy to fuck her

P: thank you

(Nice that Yahoo IM has an "archive" feature, no? I can't tell you how many times I've reviewed these conversations. When I do, I can't help but use my BS detector: is Ted saying the words he's supposed to say, or words he really means? Occasionally I wonder, but once I see him with my wife I realize it's MY desire to protect what's left of my self-esteem that keeps me from accepting his words at face value. He may fuck my wife, but he's always been honest with me. And our conversations really helped during those dry spells when Sally wasn't "sharing.")

Monday evening finally arrived. When we got in the car to drive to the hotel Sally said, "Thank you for taking me to my lover. I'm really looking forward to getting well fucked. It's been WAY too long." Quite the mood-setter for our drive! Of course, life has this way of getting in the way, and by the time we had driven five miles we got the first of the panicked/upset/discouraged phone calls from our kids. By the end of the drive we had hit the trifecta -- three kids, three phone calls. We took turns answering, and we were truly fried by the time we got to the hotel.

We are regulars at that hotel -- we only go there for Sally and Ted's dates, but that's enough for the night staff to know us well. They offered to upgrade us to a suite with a Jacuzzi, which we happily accepted. We had brought liquor with us, so within a few minutes of our arrival we were naked, in a bubble bath and sipping on our drinks. The Jacuzzi was spacious, and it was just what the doctor ordered. In a little while the water and the booze began to work, and as we relaxed Sally's legs spread apart. When the bubbles cleared I was facing her wide-open pussy, looking up inside her while she talked quietly about her lover. The knowledge that we were naked added to my humiliation, as it was clear that we could have been dressed in suits of armor for all it meant to her to see my body. I remembered her telling me that she appreciated my acceptance of our agreement because she was no longer threatened by the possibility that I would ask for sex, and our half-hour sojourn in the bath proved her true to her word.

We hugged and kissed as we got out: the embrace of people in love, but not lovers. Her lover would arrive in the morning.

I slept fitfully that night, as I always do the night before their dates. Every time I started to drift off, I saw the image of Ted fucking my wife: both of them naked, her legs spread and his body between them, and him groaning as her pussy kissed and caressed his cock. The fantasy of it helped me relax, but then the realization that it was not fantasy, but what would be happening in a few hours, jerked me back from sleep. And so it went until my alarm sounded at 7 a.m.

I got up quietly so Sally could continue sleeping. I closed the bedroom door behind me -- I had left all my clothes in the living room the night before, so I could dress without disturbing her. In the shower I recited what has become my ritual self-abuse on date mornings:

"I brought my wife here for a date with her lover. In a little while I'll wake her so she can get ready for him. I'll make the bed so it is ready for them. I'll get the door when he knocks, then sit there while he and my wife talk and hold and kiss. When they get up to go to the bedroom together I will actually say, 'Have a good time.' Then I'll sit outside the bedroom door and listen while my wife fucks him. When they want to take a break I'll serve them lunch, then sit quietly when they go back to bed and close the door on me again. When they are done having sex, I'll take my wife home with his sperm swimming around inside her. And when we're home, she won't give me ANY of what she gives him. I really am a cuckold. I know it, she knows it and he knows it, too."

After jerking off (but not cumming) to this litany, I pulled myself together and got to my work. I dressed, went downstairs for a quick breakfast and gathered up Sally's breakfast to bring back to the room. I woke her, set her coffee and fruit next to the bed, and started to prepare the suite for Ted's arrival. I cleaned up from the night before, set the table for their lunch and when Sally got up to shower I made the bed -- now THEIR bed. On Ted's instruction, the final step in making the bed is to turn down the covers on the near side so they can get in easily; as I did that simple act I was overwhelmed with shame at what I was doing.

Ted usually calls me when he's about 20 minutes away, to ask for the room number; it just wouldn't do to have the same man asking for our room number at 9 a.m. every time we check in! Instead of calling, Ted left me this text:

"On my way to give your wife what she can't get from you. Room #?"

I replied, "Room 335. My wife is so excited to see you."

As I knew I would, I opened the door when he knocked. He said hi to me, but Sally was waiting for him so "hi" was all I got. Years ago Sally used to dress UP for him -- blouse, skirt, high heels -- but now she dresses for bed: lacy negligee, sometimes a pair of matching panties, a silk robe and... nothing else. It's always strange to see them sitting and talking like that, with him in his street clothes and her in her bedroom clothes, but it doesn't seem to bother them at all.

They usually kiss each other briefly then sit and talk for a while before beginning to touch each other, but not this time. Ted just about jumped onto Sally, and their first kiss was long, strong and deep. His hands were on her tits instantly, and the first time their lips parted he lifted the top of Sally's negligee away from her body so he could peek in to see her entire, naked breast. The tiny remnant of the "normal husband" in me wanted to protest this violation of my wife's privacy, but we all knew that wouldn't happen. I was not going to stop them, and my wife was thrilled to share her privacy with this man.

Ted told me to get them both coffee, so I made my way down to the lobby. Last time they made fun of how fast I had been in getting the coffee and returning, so I walked slowly and deliberately, knowing I was giving them time to be alone together. I came back in a respectable amount of time, and when I opened the suite door I saw Ted literally on top of my wife. They were still dressed -- at least, as dressed as they were when I left -- but they were kissing and touching each other so passionately that I thought they would fuck right there. I placed the coffee in front of them and sat down quietly, watching their tongues intertwine.

I think they chugged the coffee, because they were back to making out in an instant. Ted's hands were all over Sally's tits, both over her negligee and reaching into it. She was kissing him with such intensity that it took my breath away, and apparently Ted's, too. He said, "If you keep that up I'm going to want to take off my pants," and without missing a beat my wife said, "Actually, that's the direction I'm heading in."

Now that may not seem like an unexpected comment, particularly given the circumstances under which it was said, but it hit me like a ton of bricks. I literally felt my world crashing down around me, and her words echo in my mind to this day. They were exactly what I NEEDED... what I needed to hear, and what I needed to feel. It was a hint of the Bad Girl she becomes in bed with him, and for the first time in a long time she was willing to show me what she gives to only him. I looked at her, lips locked on his, hands roaming all over his body, nipples hard as he felt her up, and I realized what actually goes on behind their bedroom door. The sensuality and the sexuality were overwhelming, and the sick, lonely, empty feeling of realizing that she never gives that to me, and really never did, felt like a powerful kick in the groin.

They barely separated their mouths far enough to stand up and leave for the bedroom. The door clicked closed, and I was alone. As I took off my clothes and prepared to sit outside their door, I felt different. The scene was the same, the "coming events" would be the same, but I felt... I felt like I was where I belonged. Seeing the passion Ted ignited in my wife, hearing her say she wanted his pants off, seeing her give herself so freely to him, I knew that he really was about to give her what I never could. I was excited that they let me sit outside their door and listen to them fuck, and grateful that they understood what I needed to make it work.

Just as Sally's saying she wanted him to take off his pants blew my mind, so did the sound of his belt buckle and zipper: he WAS taking off his pants, and she was probably helping him do it. The next sound was his groan, and I knew my wife had just taken his cock into her mouth. More groaning, rustling of the sheets, and louder groaning... Ted keeps telling me how Sally is a master of blowjobs, and I have no reason to doubt him other than the fact that she never did that to me. Whatever she was doing, she was making him feel VERY good.

I heard her pocket rocket start up, and I settled in for what I knew would be 10-15 minutes of Ted helping her to cum. But I was off by about half, as I heard -- felt, actually -- the bed shake after no more than five minutes. Sally told me she had not cum in a week, saving it for HIM. I hadn't seen any real sign of it during the week, but now I understood how horny she was; she got off instantly!

Immediately after she came, I heard the sigh/gasp/moan she makes when his cock enters her pussy. I thought of how good it must feel to fuck her when her body is still shaking and spasming from her orgasm, and then I thought of how good it must feel to fuck her, period. Ted was, shall I say, "demonstrative" of the pleasure he was receiving from my wife: he moaned and groaned the entire time he fucked her. With each noise he made I felt more and more alone, more and more ashamed of myself, as we all knew that my wife would not give me any of what she was giving him. I listened to the sounds he made as his cock slid in and out of my wife, and when he came it was all I could do to keep from crying... or cumming.

I heard him ejaculate in my wife. I heard him grunt as he pumped his semen into her body. And I heard her voice -- too soft to make out the words, but clearly encouraging him and thanking him for giving himself to her.

No one but a cuckold can understand the pain and excitement I felt as I heard my wife cuckold me with her lover. It did not feel GOOD at all... but it was what I needed to hear, and to feel.

Just a short while later, Ted called me to come into the bedroom. That is very unusual, as their bedroom is usually off limits to me. As I entered I saw THEM, lying naked in bed together. The sheet was pulled up to their waists, but Sally's tits were visible, as was Ted's hand caressing them. I had not stopped jerking off, and I thought they might be inviting me in to witness their lovemaking, but I was mistaken. Ted told me to turn around to face the door, explaining that I was making Sally uncomfortable by staring. [WTF?? Another man tells me to stop staring at MY WIFE, while he feels her up in bed??]

I did as I was told.

Ted said, "I want to tell you what we just did. But you need to know that Sally is stroking my cock now, so I apologize if I groan while I'm talking to you.

"We got each other so hot in the living room that we couldn't wait to rip each other's clothes off when we came in here. We started undressing each other, but that just wasn't fast enough so we finally just tore our own clothes off. Sally sat on the edge of the bed and pulled me over to her, and she went down on me like she was starving. She felt SO GOOD -- I know she never gives you that, but you should know that she's really, really good to my cock.