A Cucold's Diary

"I Like What We Do"

August 2015

WARNING / ATTENTION / AVISO

If you don't like cuckolding, please don't harm yourself or your psyche by reading this. Honest, I'm not joking: this is about cuckolding. So IF you read it and find, to your horror, that it is about cuckolding, feel free to keep your surprise to yourself.

As for its placement in "Loving Wives," that is because my wife loves me and I love her. If this does not fit with your understanding of a loving wife, that's fine; see above, and please don't upset yourself by considering something new.

FORWARD

This is a new chapter in my Diary because I felt this was a new and wonderful development in our marriage. After 32 wonderful years of marriage to Sally, and after more than 17 years as her cuckold, I didn't think it was possible for anything NEW to happen. But leave it to my wife to surprise and delight me yet again!

I AM a cuckold. I don't know if I was born this way or came to it at an early age, but I've always known I was meant to be a cuckold. I am an Alpha Male in much of my life, but I'm not in the bedroom. And I never was.

For The record, I am very happy with my life. I am deeply in love with my wife, and she is deeply in love with me. The way she acts turns me on WAY beyond anything I've been able to communicate in all the chapters of this Diary.

Comments welcomed; flames cheerfully ignored.

*****

MY DIARY

It was 10 p.m. on Monday as we drove the final few miles to the hotel. Sally's lover, Ted, was scheduled to arrive at 9 the next morning, and we were each thinking our own thoughts.

With no preface or introduction Sally said, "I really like what we do. Thank you."

I glanced over at her, and saw her smiling at me. Not a mean smile, but a gentle, loving smile.

"Thank YOU," I replied. "Thank you for doing this, and for letting me be part of it."

"I wouldn't have it any other way. I really DO like what we do, and I feel good about it," she added.

I took her hand and we drove the rest of the way in silence. Actually I don't think I could have spoken if I tried, given how astonished I was at what she said. My Good Girl wife - my VERY Good Girl wife - just told me that she likes fucking her boyfriend... and NOT fucking me. That's "what we do," and we've done it for a long, long time now. Her relationship with Ted began over 17 years ago, and this November will mark nine years since she asked if we could stop having sex - and nine years since I agreed.

But as you may have read in past chapters of this Diary, Sally "compartmentalizes" with the best of them. From the moment Ted arrives in our hotel room until the moment he leaves, Bad Girl comes out to play; but with the exception of a couple of times a month when she gets off at home using her pocket rocket, Bad Girl is nowhere to be found in our lives. That frustrated me for a long time, until I realized that we each approach sexuality in our own way. Once I accepted that, and saw the way she lets go when she goes to bed with her boyfriend, I decided it worked for me, too. Which is why her comment was so unexpected: yes, we were on the way, but we weren't THERE yet. And yet...

I thought back to a conversation we had the previous week. As usual, when we made plans for this date Sally asked me if there was something special I wanted to request. (They don't always give me what I ask for, but they always try. I can't ask more than that, since their dates really are about THEM, not me.)

I said I would really like the honor of taking her bra off her as she undressed for him. I have always loved my wife's tits - literally since the first moment I laid eyes on her - and the thought of removing the last item of clothing which separates her tits from her boyfriend turned me on intensely. But there has always been an unspoken "no touching" rule: when she is with Ted, I can sometimes watch but never touch. So I didn't know how she would feel about this venture into their date space.

Which is why Sally's response took me aback. She said, "Well, if you take off my bra you'll also need to offer my tits to him."

I think I said "Huh???" Remember, we were in solid Good Girl Territory when this conversation took place. Even though she asked me what I wanted, we were at home, dressed and just coming home from work. "Unexpected" doesn't begin to describe what she laid on me with that comment.

Sally turned to getting dinner on the table, and nothing more was said. I knew better than to push, and honestly at that moment I wouldn't have known what to push for. While they have always been good about inviting me in to watch certain parts of their sex together, we have all been very comfortable with the boundaries: when Ted arrives, Sally is with HIM, not me. Now she is suggesting that I hold her breasts up for her lover to... to what? To see? To touch? To kiss? A shudder went through me like a shock; Sally saw it, smiled and said nothing.

That conversation came back to me as we drove in silence after her unsolicited comment. Hell, who am I kidding? That conversation never left me all week! It wasn't just the thought of being asked to present her breasts to her lover; it was the thought that my wife thought this up on her own, and maybe even wanted me to do it for real... Was Ted's Bad Girl starting to influence my Good Girl? My cuckold soul began vibrating as I wondered if my wife was really able to accept me as I am, and to have me participate actively in my own cuckolding.

When we arrived, we learned that all Hampton Inns are not created equal. I had reserved a suite - very important, since Ted and Sally like to tell me to leave the bedroom so they can be alone together. But in Delaware, a "suite" doesn't mean what it means in Pennsylvania. Our suite was one large room with a living area, a bedroom area and an alcove for the sink and microwave. I texted Ted to advise him, and he texted back immediately, "I suppose we can hide you in the bathroom as a last resort." Much as I hoped that wouldn't happen, I wrote back, "Absolutely."

In the morning, Sally put on the outfit she had selected for her date: a black bra; black, matching panties; and a short, black, sheer shirt over her bra, open completely in front. I have never gotten used to my wife "dressing" like this for another man, and once again the sight took my breath away. She looked beautiful, sexy... and HIS.

The moment Ted arrived, he agreed.

I opened the door when he knocked. He entered and, ignoring me completely, he sat on the couch as my wife made her way to him. Before he could stand to greet her she leaned over, kissed him hard and deep, and sat down beside him. RIGHT beside him. She looked at me and said, "Aren't you going to get us coffee? That's your job now that Ted is here."

I apologized for being paralyzed by the sight of my wife and her lover together again, and I left to get coffee. I know how each of them likes it, so I didn't need to ask. I did, however, have to stop in the hallway and take a few deep breaths to make the tent in my pants less obvious as I headed for the hotel lobby.

I always want to race to get their coffee and return as fast as possible, so I don't miss any of the action - any of my own cuckolding. But I know they want a little time alone together when they first see each other after weeks apart and besides, they laugh at me when I return within 30 seconds. So I made sure to take slow, deliberate steps and slow, deliberate care as I prepared their coffee. It's strange how much I feel like I have a huge CUCKOLD sign on me every time I do this... I can't believe it isn't obvious that I'm getting drinks for my wife and her lover; how could they not know? Of course, no one knows and no one could know, but it is one of the powerful, erotic humiliations of being a willing cuckold.

When I returned with their coffee they were still talking. They continued talking. And talking. Yes, there was the occasional kiss or caress, but damn, their conversation went on forever! They talked about work, about family, and a little too much about Ted's dental travails, and all the while I sat in a chair across from them, my semi-hard cock wondering when the action would begin. But every time I started to get impatient I looked at the two of them and realized this was just one way in which Ted is a better lover than I: he takes his time, builds the anticipation for each of them, and romances my wife with his eyes. Damn, he's good.

Finally, (actually after about 45 minutes), Sally got up. She said she was going to the bathroom, and suggested that Ted should make his way toward the bed where she would meet him. As the bathroom door closed, Ted walked by me, stood next to the bed and without a thought for the husband in the room, pulled down his pants. He laid them carefully over a chair, and stood with anticipation as he waited for my wife to emerge.

Later I would recognize what Ted had done: as the Alpha Male in the room and in our relationship, he was as comfortable taking off his pants in front of me as he would have been if I had not been there. In fact, when we talked afterward he said that most of the time I am "just wallpaper." He didn't say it to be offensive, but just to describe how he felt. He said he actually hadn't given a thought to how I would feel when he started to undress; all he wanted was to be ready for his lover when she came to him.

As Ted stood in his shirt and briefs, I sat silently; what else could I do? Sally emerged from the bathroom and went to the sink to wash her hands. An audience of two watched in rapt attention as she leaned over the sink, then turned toward her lover. They walked toward each other, met in the middle and embraced in a passionate hug and an even more passionate kiss. From across the room I could see their tongues dancing together, and their kisses were punctuated with small gasps of pleasure.

Barely separating her lips from his, Sally said, "Come do your job."

Actually, physically shaking, I walked up behind her and tentatively reached for the collar of her shirt; I felt like even touching her skin would be a violation of their intimacy. But as I pulled the shirt off her shoulders I had to tug gently on her arms - if she didn't unwrap them from his body I couldn't remove the garment. She grudgingly let go of him, just long enough for me to pull it off her arms... but she never stopped kissing him. I placed her shirt neatly on the desk, and now faced the sight of his hands on her naked back as they continued to make out in front of me.

It was time. I unhooked my wife's bra, and this time she quickly took a step back from him so I could ease it off her shoulders and off her breasts. I laid the bra on top of her shirt and stood there with no idea what would happen next.

"Come on, Paul, you know what you have to do now," my wife said with a wicked smile. She was enjoying this!

Neither of them moved. They were standing about a foot apart, facing each other, and it was clear that the next move was mine. Nothing was going to happen until I did what I "had to do." I walked up behind my nearly-naked wife and slipped my arms under hers. I found the underside of her breasts, cradled one in each hand and pointed her nipples toward her lover. Without any hesitation he bent over, took her right nipple in his mouth and began sucking.

I don't know how to describe what happened next. Sally's head rolled back a little until it was resting on my shoulder. She was there, but not there: the skin of her cheek touched the skin of my cheek, but my wife was caught up in the feeling of her lover sucking her nipples - first the right one, then the left, then back to the right. I felt her excitement grow. I actually felt her pushing her chest forward, offering her naked tits to her lover. I was closer to my wife than I had been in a long time, but she barely noticed. She was caught up on pleasure - in the pleasure of her lover's mouth on her nipples - as she leaned in to his mouth I felt myself gently pushing her breasts forward, too. WE were offering him her nipples, and as I "did my job" I was overwhelmed by the shame and excitement of what I was doing. I felt no hesitation on Sally's part, no misgivings; as Ted's mouth sent waves of pleasure through my wife's nipples, the fact that her husband was holding up her tits was just, for lack of a better way to put it, "what we do."

At that moment I realized that Sally was sharing something she had never shared with me before. She was allowing me to feel what she feels like when she's sexually excited FOR HIM. It was amazing: her body was almost humming with desire, and she was letting me feel it the only way possible. I never made her feel that way, so she wanted me to hold her like this while she was preparing to fuck Ted. Standing there behind her, fully dressed as I held my nearly-naked wife's naked tits out to her partially-dressed lover.

I had never done that before, but it felt... right.

When he finished (for the moment) with her breasts, he kissed her again on her mouth. To my great surprise she told me to "finish the job," with a quick nod to her panties. Without hesitating I bent over, slid her panties to the floor, and supported her as she stepped out of them. They never stopped kissing as I did my job, and when I finished I stood back to admire my handiwork: my now-completely-naked wife, making out with her lover.

It was only when I stood back that I noticed Sally had been busy unbuttoning Ted's shirt. When it fell open she immediately reached for the elastic band of his underwear and slid it off him. Standing up, she wrapped one arm around him again, started kissing him again, and with her free hand she reached out to stroke his cock. I didn't actually see her do that, but his sudden groans of pleasure left no doubt in my mind about what was happening. You know that sound; everyone knows that sound. I never get to MAKE that sound, but I've been in the room often enough to know what it means: my wife's hand is caressing her lover's cock, naked. Skin to skin.

The third time he groaned, she told me to leave them alone. Her actual words were, "Go now," and they were accompanied by her leading him by his cock toward the bed. I thanked them both but I knew that even my thank-you was now an unwelcome distraction for the horny couple, so I quickly moved to the far end of the room and into the kitchen alcove.

Ted had been kind enough to push a chair into the alcove earlier, making sure there was no line of sight from the chair to the bed. Now, to the sounds of groaning and gasping I quietly pulled off my pants and underwear, laid a towel on the chair and sat down. My penis was hard as a rock, and fortunately I had had the foresight to leave the jar of Vaseline there. Just as I began masturbating I heard the sound Sally makes when Ted slides his cock into her. I didn't know what position they were in, I didn't know exactly what they were doing... but I knew exactly what they were doing. Ted was fucking my wife. My wife was fucking Ted. They were making each other feel very, very good.

I know Sally and Ted will read this, but the honest-to-God truth is that I didn't peek into the bedroom even once. Oh, I could have; given the noises they were making I don't think they would have noticed if I drove by in a truck. But I knew the non-suite-suite was a compromise, and I felt it was my part of the deal to be respectful of their privacy even though there wasn't a door they could close on me. I could still feel my wife's tits in my hands as I offered them to Ted; I was given the privilege of undressing her, of standing there as they began to cuckold me. And now I could hear the sounds of my wife fucking her lover. They were so kind to me, so accepting, that the very least I could was to stay in the corner, quietly playing with myself while my wife enjoyed better sex than she ever had with me.

I heard them fuck, then change positions, then fuck more, then change positions, then fuck more. I heard Sally's pocket rocket start up, and I heard Ted speaking words of admiration, encouragement and sex to her. It wasn't long at all before I heard the gut-wrenching (for her, and for me) sound of my wife cumming in her lover's arms. She came hard - really hard - and it was all I could do to keep from losing my own load as I listened to her pleasure.

In November, 2006, Sally asked me if we could stop having sex. She said she still wanted to fuck me once a year on our anniversary, but Ted had taught her what good sex was and showed her how she would feel when she fucked a real man. With excitement, shame, fear and more excitement, I said I understood - and agreed. Please read the earlier chapters of this Diary to learn how good this agreement has been for both of us, but believe me when I say it has been very, very good for us.

So today Ted got to experience the intense, intimate, skin-on-skin sensation of my wife's earth-shaking orgasm, just as I got to do once last March. But he also got to do it several times in March, and April, and May, and June, and July, and today. And today was just beginning.

They were quiet for a while. Ted tells me that he knows Sally needs a few minutes to come down from her orgasms (having another man "explain" what my wife likes during sex is a humiliation all its own), and now he was giving her the time she needed. Soon there were whispers, then the rustling of the covers, and then a deep, powerful groan from Ted.

Sally was sucking his cock.

The groan was followed by a series of short pants, and I nearly pulled my penis off as I masturbated listening to the effect my wife's mouth was having on Ted's sex. My head was spinning, and so I wasn't sure I actually heard right when I thought Ted had called out my name. I stopped stroking myself - hell, I think I stopped breathing - to see whether my wife's lover was really summoning me. When he said my name again I answered RIGHT AWAY, and he told me to come into the room.

As I walked toward the bed, a tableau was spread out in front of me: the sheets and covers were thrown to the bottom of the bed, Ted was stretched out on his back with his legs apart. I knew he would be naked, but it was still shocking to me since I hadn't seen him undress completely before I left the room; and my still-naked wife was lying on her side across the bed. Her head was by his cock, her mouth was on his cock, and her right hand was caressing his balls between his outstretched legs.

"Watch your wife make love to my cock," he instructed.

I stood beside the bed for a minute, then realized that I wanted a better view. Besides that, it felt better - more respectful - for me to kneel in front of them rather than stand over them. I knelt down, never removing my hand from my penis.

Here is what I saw.

Ted is stretched out in front of me, naked from head to toe. Sally is facing toward me, with nothing between us but another man torso. She looks at me, opens her mouth wide and slides it all the way down Ted's cock without touching it. Never taking her eyes off me, my wife closes her mouth around its target. Ted's body reacts as if he had been shocked, and he says something unintelligible. She holds his sex completely in her mouth and I can see her lips and tongue trying to touch every bit of it, every nerve at once. Slowly she draws her mouth up his cock, pausing to lick around the head as it emerged. I actually saw Ted's cock grow in my wife's hand... and mouth.

She did it again and Ted made a sound like "WWWHHHHAAAAKKKKKK!" and his body convulsed. I thought he had cum, but he was just enjoying himself - and my wife. At that moment Sally looked at his cock - and she didn't look at me again.

I was given the privilege (I know that word will upset the trolls, so go for it!) of watching my wife suck her lover's cock. Or, as Ted put it, of watching my wife make love to his cock. Watching her - watching THEM - I remembered that I never knew she could make a man feel this good, because I was never enough of a man to do this with her.