Disclaimer: fiction. Any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.
After years of writing stories and keeping them private, I decided to post one on Literotica. The result was not as I expected, a bunch of trolls seem to have had their masculinity challenged by my story. The story had been about a man whose wife develops a Facebook crush and moves him in, turning her husband into second fiddle. The trolls called me all sorts of names.
Ironically, they took the fact that the story was written from the point of view of the husband to mean that I was in fact a cuckold. I just thought writing from my own point of view was rather boring. While the story was fictitious I took elements from the lives of my clients. I found myself kind of offended because I consider some of my clients friends, not just the women, but their husbands and boyfriends as well. I can't profess to understand why the men would want to watch me take their women to bed, but many are great people who have helped me over the years.
However, writing from my point of view would have been pointless. I get to sleep with beautiful women and no longer have to work a day job. That's it. That's my motivation. Story over. That's boring.
I learned a little more about these men by reading NoTalentHack's excellent "Loving Loving Wives," but I lack the empathy that he has or the sympathy necessary to write for these closet case insecure betas who lack the courage of some of my clients to just embrace themselves and be cool with it. To go around (usually anonymously) pissing on the joys of others while making it about you and your preferences is just the kind of cowardice I can't respect.
I started this new career largely by accident. I was having an affair with a married woman unbeknownst to me. She eventually told me she had a husband and that he was aware of the situation. She showered me with gifts and eventually referred me to one of her friends who wanted a similar arrangement. I've never charged for my services, but yet I pull in six figures in gifts and other compensation. I live rent free in a condo provided by one of my early client's husbands.
At first I avoided the husbands. If they wanted to watch I was out of there immediately afterward. However, one couple had me come on their anniversary trip to a tropical resort. How could I say no? The woman spent a lot of time in spa treatments and other activities. The resort was rather captive and secluded from much else so any of the "men's activities" meant I was often in a group with her husband. We started to hang out, have a few beers, and talk. Aside from a sexuality I don't understand, he is a pretty okay guy. We've since formed a friendship. From then on I befriended many of my client's husbands. It helps make things easier and the gifts flow more freely too.
Most of my clients are affluent, middle to upper class white folks. I fulfill a niche in their fantasy life. There is a lot you could analyze from a racial and social justice perspective, but I'd rather dick down a few beautiful women than engage in social activism. Don't get it twisted, my country is a fucked up place, but we each do our part.
Contrary to my story and the beliefs of many of the trolls, engaging me is often either the husband's or a mutual decision. A couple realizes their life isn't interesting enough. The woman is unfulfilled either because the husband is too busy, physically unable, or she just requires something extra. I come in, provide assistance and am not a threat to their marriage. I don't want to be a husband. I'm happy to be a friend and confidant, but when push comes to shove, I'm out of there when the party's over and they still have a deeper emotional connection and life together. This suits me fine.
One of the trolls who wrote the saltiest comment and called me or my clients worse than a pedophile has taken to littering the Loving Wives section with a series of stories by which a woman cheats on her husband or tries to interest him in a cuckolding lifestyle after which he gets revenge and kills them both or takes the kids, the house and every dime in a vengeful divorce. I'd like to criticize the fellow's writing but he made a compelling story with good use of grammar, few typos or mistakes. He even had a fairly good plot and character development. There are inaccuracies about my clients or their lifestyle, but overall he's a good writer, better than me! The story is nothing you can really wank to which made me think he doesn't understand the audience. However I was wrong, there is an active anti-cuckold troll community on the site. He is writing this for them.
However, I've always been a petty bastard. Prior to my current life I was an IT infosec consultant. Companies hired me to hack their own systems and figure out the weaknesses. Often I tracked the attackers. Even if I don't have access to the system or they are anonymous, people leave social cues. Typos they usually make, minor details about their life, trails to other information. If you know what you're doing you can put that information together and figure out who you're talking to.
I did this for my troll. I expected him to be 900lbs and live in his parent's basement. However, I discovered this wasn't the case. Let's call him "Gerald," like the Subway guy. Gerald lives in a decent middle class neighborhood. It isn't really up to my standards or style. He has a recent sensible car. It isn't my taste. Frankly, if it isn't an import, can't do 0-60 in under 4 seconds, and I can't put the top down, then I'm not driving it. His wife is average to good looking and his 19 year old daughter is beautiful. She was home visiting her parents over the holiday but is now back at the local state school. She could live at home and commute but lives on campus, probably to get away from dad.
Gerald spends a lot of time at work and most of his time at home on Literotica, Reddit and other forums. He doesn't seem to have many hobbies and strikes me as rather sad. I mean being angry enough to comment on every Loving Wives story and even write angry murder stories on a wank site is a pretty good indication that you suffer from some kind of mental illness.
So his wife, we'll call her Melanie, shops while he neglects her. She has some absolutely fabulous taste. She is always well dressed to the nines, fit, and never tacky. She's a bit out of his league intellectually with book clubs, tickets to shows, and other cultural events. She's a great conversationalist actually, but plays it down for him.
I decided I wanted to get to know her better. After doing a little online and then tactical surveillance I was able to join one of her book clubs and a cultural events meetup. The book we were reading was admittedly a little heavy for my taste. It was a structural analysis of the international system using different philosophical and political perspectives (i.e. dialectical for one). However, I dove in and tried to gain a commanding grasp. During the discussion I complimented her views with other aspects from my own without showing her up or being condescending. She approached me afterwards.
We had a lovely conversation about nearly everything except she didn't mention her husband once. I mean she did wear a semi-impressive wedding ring but not one mention. She even briefly mentioned her daughter, but not her dear hubby.
We happened to run into each other later in the week at her culture club. We both mentioned we were having to see the same musical alone. It turns out...we're even seated right next to each other...almost like providence or a well executed and meticulously researched plan!
We had an absolutely enchanting night at this musical called Cabaret. It is about the lives of some Germans during the end of the Weimar Republic. Afterwards we had a few more drinks at the bar next door. I made sure to touch her hand and gave signs of affection that were flattering but respectful. While I may have started this for revenge I absolutely adored her company and our evening!
She started just inviting me to events. I started inviting her to things. One thing lead to another and before long we were dancing. After all, dancing is cultural and it's just dancing.
I had resented my mother for making me dance. As a young man I thought it was completely gay. However, she was distressed by how tone deaf I am. She declared if I was the only black boy who can't sing or play an instrument in our church I was damn sure gonna dance.
As time went on, I discovered being the only straight guy in a dance troop full of beautiful girls beats the fuck out of most sports. Don't get me wrong, I did my time on the field but dance became a passion. I learned several forms including Latin dances like tango, salsa, and bachata. I of course learned club dances too.
Well Melanie loved to dance and Gerald didn't even know how. I think they took a class once but he gave up after only a few classes. Melanie wasn't a terribly experienced dancer but had way more rhythm than the average white lady. I started pushing sexier dances and she resisted not at all.
One night she was rubbing her fit but full ass against me as we danced and I let myself get hard as a rock. She at first danced like she didn't notice (which I assure you was absolutely impossible). Then she turned around and started grinding.
From then on when she invited me dancing it was less about dancing than a chance to dry hump without guilt. Eventually, I invited her to see the apartment a client had rented me in town. The pretense was that I needed some interior design advice and that I respected her opinion. It just so happened that we would watch the sunset with some champagne and that I made her favorite meal as a thank you.
