Chapter 29 - "The Same Page"
Dear Literotica Readers,
My favorite comment from a reader on a recent Literotica story was, "I'm not going to read this. I'm just scrolling to the end to give it the ONE star it deserves." As someone who spends WAY too much of my time masturbating, I could only think that someone who spends his/her time putting down other writers without even reading their work makes me feel really good about using my energy to jerk off :-)
This is about cuckolding. It's called "A Cuckold's Diary." Honest, I wouldn't lie to you. So if you KNOW you're going to hate it, why not just... go jerk off?
Others, read on - I hope you enjoy.
CP
We were in bed, cuddling and kissing, about a week before Sally's date in February with her lover, Ted. Out of the blue she said, "What do you want to see this time?"
No context, no discussion which led up to the question, so I replied as only someone with as many years of schooling as I could: "Huh?"
"Every date you ask to see one thing. So what do you want to see this time?"
Even being caught off balance, my answer was immediate: "I'd really like you to pull down his pants in the living room, before you go to bed with him, and suck his cock in front of me."
Okay, some background here...
After Sally and Ted's date in October, he went in for a second round of prostate surgery (sorry folks, the difference between fantasy and reality is that reality isn't always sexy). Nothing cancerous, thank God, but enough of a problem that he had to deal with it. And contrary to the glowing promises of his doctor, his recovery was slow and difficult. January was the first time he felt up to a date with my wife.
When we/they got together in January, it was a different feeling than usual. Ted sat talking with Sally for a long time on the living room couch, catching up and, it seemed, working up to sex. Nothing overt, but it seemed they were both being gentle; as an observer it appeared my wife wanted her lover to do just what he was comfortable doing, and nothing more. When they got up to go to bed I sat quietly in my chair; it didn't feel right to intrude into their relationship at that moment.
They didn't call me in while they were in bed together; they didn't include me in any way. I heard Sally's pocket rocket start up, and a while later I heard her cum. Then I heard him make the noises he makes when my wife is making him feel good, but I could not tell anything about what they were doing. Eventually his moans and gasps increased in volume and intensity, and I heard him cum -- but without the banging of the bed which usually accompanies him fucking her. Bottom line, I had no idea what had happened, but I was surprisingly okay with that.
As I sat outside the bedroom door that day, I realized that what mattered at the moment was... THEM. Ted had gone through a difficult time, and my wife was helping him feel good about himself and feel like a man again. Much as I wanted to be included, I understood that what they were doing was important to them -- to Sally and Ted, who began their relationship almost 16 years ago, and who had stayed together through good times and bad. My role was to shut up and accept that my wife has a *relationship* with her lover: not just fucking, but caring. This was a time for caring, and it did not include me.
I was completely fine with this.
Over the years, Sally has tried to teach me that "it's not always about you" -- not only in terms of her fucking Ted, but in life in general. She has been both my rock and my biggest critic, reminding me that the world does not revolve around me and me alone. It's been one of the most important lessons I've ever learned, and I am grateful to her for teaching this to me -- with love and, at times, with pointed criticism. But at that moment, while I sat outside their bedroom door and masturbated while my wife gave pleasure to her lover, I took great pride in understanding that this time, this moment, was for THEM, not for me. He needed her, and she was there for him. And I was satisfied to sit outside the bedroom door and jerk off while my wife helped her lover feel good about himself again.
When Ted emerged from the bedroom he was dressed and ready to leave. He had to get to a meeting, so we knew he would not have long to spend with her, and certainly not with me. But before he left he told me that Sally had given him one of the most amazing blowjobs of his life, and he had cum in her mouth. He talked about her oral skills for a good five minutes, sitting on the couch while I sat on the chair opposite him and masturbated. Yes, it was exciting to hear about my wife sucking his cock, but I was even happier to hear that my wife had made him cum -- his first orgasm since his surgery.
If you're not a cuckold, you will never understand how happy I was that my wife made Ted cum that day. Or how proud I was of myself, for understanding that it wasn't about me, and that my role that day was to shut up, stay out of the way, and let my wife help her lover feel good about himself. When Sally came out, ten minutes after Ted left, she too was dressed and ready to go. I stuffed my erection into my pants and drove my wife home.
We did not talk much about what had happened, other than for Sally to confirm that he had helped her to cum, and that she had made him cum with her mouth. I left it there, and didn't push -- it simply wasn't about me. But lest you think I'm simply a saint, I spent the next weeks downloading every porn video I could find of blowjobs, and imagining my wife sucking Ted to orgasm.
Thus my immediate response when Sally asked me, "What do you want to see this time?" before their next date. The rest of my answer requires yet a little more explanation.
When it was clear it would be a while before Sally and Ted's next date after his surgery, I asked her to explore MY side of cuckolding with me. Especially as we approached November 20th, which marked the seventh anniversary of the day she had asked me if we could stop having sex, my submissive side reared its (ugly?) head and demanded to be noticed.
As has been our practice for several years, when Sally wants to get off between dates I sit on the floor on the far side of our bed and masturbate while I talk to her about her dates with Ted. From that position we can speak easily, but I can't see or touch her -- again, at her request. Usually I give her images of her fucking him, of him getting her off, or whatever seems to turn her on at that moment. But beginning in late October I asked if she could try getting off on what *I* think about when I jerk off -- namely, the pain and humiliation of being cuckolded by them. She said she'd give it a try, and true to her word, she did.
[Warning: the following thoughts are those of a cuckold. If you do not get off on cuckolding, you will find them strange. If cuckolding offends you, you will find them offensive. Proceed at your own risk!]
From late October until their date in late January, Sally's masturbation sessions were "illustrated" by my descriptions of how I felt when she was with Ted. I described the shame of making hotel reservations for her and her lover, and of making sure we got a suite so there would be a place for me to sit and play with myself while they went to bed together, without me. I tried to describe how it feels to make the hotel bed in the morning, after we have slept in it and before Ted arrives to take my place in it. I explained the humiliation of her asking me to check her breasts for stray hairs, so they would be perfect for HIM each time.
I told her, even though it was difficult to get the words out, that when Ted arrives it feels like there is only one man in the room. One man, one woman... and a cuckold. I described the knot in my stomach as I watch them sit on the couch and make out -- deep, passionate kisses, hands roaming over each other's bodies, sharp intakes of breath as nerves are triggered. I talked about how it feels to see her stand up and take her lover's hand as he leads her away from me, into the bedroom. How it feels to sit on a chair outside the door and jerk off while listening to the sounds of passion, the sounds of lovemaking, the sounds of sex coming from the bedroom -- their bedroom. And how it feels to sit there, stroking the penis she has rejected, when I hear each of them orgasm in each other's arms... when I hear Ted orgasm in my wife's body.
"I don't feel like a man," I told her. "And I don't understand how you can think of me as a man, either. At least, not when it comes to sex."
Now, whether you can tell it or not, my wife loves me. She loves me very, very much. Long after she accepted that I got off on her fucking Ted, she still had trouble hurting me. Oh, she reached the point years ago where she could take him to bed, and even close the door so I couldn't watch, but crossing the line to SAYING hurtful things, or even saying something to acknowledge that what she was about to do would hurt me, has always been difficult -- even impossible -- for her. She has taken steps in that direction over the years, and I've probably written about every one in one or another chapter of this Diary, but this never came easy to her. So when, after a few such masturbation sessions, she got very excited and blurted out, "Oh God, you're NOT a man. HE is!" just as she came thinking about Ted fucking her and me playing with my impotent little penis, I felt we had crossed a line. I also came my brains out.
We kissed and cuddled after she finished cumming, and I thanked her profusely. I asked her if she was all right with what had happened, and she said she was. I asked if we could do that again and she responded -- enthusiastically -- "Absolutely!"
And we did, for the rest of the three months until their date. Each time we "played," I sat on the floor and narrated her dates from my perspective: the shame, the pain AND the excitement of everything she did with him. I told her that these are the things I think about when I masturbate alone, too: every video I watch, I picture HER in it with HIM... and I picture myself as the camera, being given the humiliating thrill of watching two people having really good sex together. She told me I didn't always have to think about her when I jerked off, that she wouldn't be insulted, but I explained that I don't do it for her; I do it for ME. After years of me saying it, she finally came to understand my feeling that I was born to be a cuckold, that my place during sex is outside the closed door, listening to a man and a woman. And what makes the experience complete for me is when that man and woman agree with me.
So after almost 31 years of marriage, half of that cuckolding me and more than seven years of her being exclusively, sexually Ted's other than one mercy fuck a year on our anniversary, Sally started to agree with me. She understood that when it comes to sex I am not a man, I am a cuckold.
Which led to "the question," and my complete answer.
"What do you want to see this time?"
"Huh?"
"Every date you ask to see one thing. So what do you want to see this time?"
"I'd really like you to pull down his pants in the living room, before you go to bed with him, and suck his cock in front of me. I'd like you to show me how you treat a man -- a real man. How you make him feel good -- feel like a man. How you get him excited and hard. How you get him ready to fuck you. I don't know if that's asking too much, but it's what I'd really like to see."
"I don't see a problem with that," she answered, and kissed me again.
I looked at her face. I can read my wife pretty well, and I can tell when she's "being nice" as opposed to being genuine. What I saw was love, and a little bit of mischief. Could my request really be okay with her? More astonishing, could she have LIKED the thought?
