I knew what I was getting into when I entered this lifestyle. I knew every implication and consequence of the decisions I was making. And of the decisions I made with my wife. I understood my life would never be the same again and that it was the biggest change my marriage had ever seen. I knew this and understood this.
Or at least, I thought I did.
The shock was huge but I wanted it; I embraced every change and longed for every last piece of humiliation and submission. Sure, I never expected the wild roller-coaster ride I was given a front seat on for a moment; it took some while to adjust to deal with the feelings of humiliation and jealousy over the months. To cope with the loss of a lover in one sense, but the gain of two more in another. I needed help and support to address my feelings and to be comfortable with my new status and role. But I got that, I got that from my wife's lover.
I'd long been enchanted with the cuckold lifestyle: the sexual liberation of my wife would only be complete if she felt able to embrace new partners and new experiences with or without me. To fulfil her decadent desires irrespective of what I thought. I wanted my wife to cheat and play away, to use her feminine wiles to seduce and ensnare a dominant man or even dominant men to enjoy her. I longed for her to liberate herself from me. Some drunken fondling at a Christmas function set her imagination flowing, a nervous grope and blowjob at a swingers' party stoked the thoughts much more.
She thought I'd leave her if she cheated. I signed my first submissive slave contract that day to renounce any claims of adultery. She met an acquaintance later that week, tied me to the chair to listen from another room as her anonymous lover fucked her wildly and noisily for what felt like hours. Her screams and cries, punctured by loud orgasms and desperate wails drove my imagination wild as my ears strained, anxious to hear every last detail from their tryst.
I needed to hear it. I wanted to see it. My erect cock was spewing pre-cum as she climaxed for the first time, and pumped cum into my underwear as she screamed his name in orgasmic ecstasy. I'd had a handsfree orgasm: my wife calling another man's name at the height of her pleasure, while I was restrained in an adjacent room and forced to listen, was too much excitement for my cock to bear.
There would be many nights like that over the coming months, but in those early days she was scared of losing me. The globules of cum on my underpants and the giant wet spot was proof that her satisfaction was far more important to me than her upholding the vows of our marriage I never cared for in the first place.
I wanted her to be free, and she was suddenly glad of the freedom. That first man showed her what fun the hotwife could have, and barely a week went past when she was not being fucked by men other than me. In fact, I was barely getting any sex, as my wife lost weight, gained confidence and started dressing in risque outfits.
I adored her more and more, especially as some of her regular men -- the bulls -- wanted me to be present. They loved to see me tied to the chair to watch as they impaled their uncovered cocks into my wife, and then feel the satisfaction of my love as she groaned with every parting thrust. They filled her, and they moved their hips to a rhythmic sensual beat. It was sex but suave and powerful, not the frantic and frenetic intercourse I gave her.
The two intertwined lovers were at one with each other; rhythmically in tune, as his glistening prick glided in and out of my wife and my bride swooning with lust as the orgasmic rush of relief repeatedly swept through her. And then I'd watch as his cum leaked from her pussy, flowing onto the bedclothes as my exhausted lady cuddled her powerful bull.
Of course, the bull would want to hurt me; vicious words, slaps around the face. I'd be called weak and pathetic, small-cocked and all. Some even wanted to see me in womens' panties or push their cum-covered prick in my mouth. It was part of the game, I had to accept it.
But the real change was when she met the experienced Aaron. He was a sales director, a few years our senior with slightly graying hair, but a muscular body with tonal definition. Unlike most of the men she had, I met him before they got down to business; he bought us a meal in the pub on his expenses and talked to us both. What did I want out of the games?
In truth, I had no idea; he made us think and we talked. I loved the submission from allowing my wife to play away while I finished housework or did my work. I adored her coming home from her trysts sated and exhausted, laughing as she collapsed into the bedroom and recounted tales of never ending debauchery.
It wasn't enough; when Aaron played, he wanted both partners actively involved or else he wasn't interested. The aggressive bulls was something I was never fond of: I liked my wife to be sexually satisfied, I didn't mind submitting to her or him, but the slaps, the cross-dressing and the trash talk was too much for me.
He picked my wife up in his sports car and gave me a list of instructions as he left. My heart thumped as I opened the envelope, feelings I'd never experienced ran through me as my sexy wife wiggled into his convertible.
His instructions: enjoy your evening, don't masturbate, we'll be home at ten.
It felt anti-climatic because it was. I'd expected demands to have the bedroom dowsed in red rose petals or me to be waiting with iced champagne; just "enjoy myself" didn't cut it as "normal" for a cuckold relationship.
Only when he returned, my wife was frantically kissing him, his hands running underneath her dress as they scandalously flirted in full view of our neighbours. I saw curtains twitching, foresaw gossiping for days, months or years. I saw the public branding of my wife as a trollop or our house as a place of disrepute. I saw ... my wife smiling, and laughing. Pulling Aaron into our hallway with an enjoyment not born out of uncontrolled lust but excited anticipation. "Let's go upstairs," he said, as much as a demand as a suggestion.
I was powerless not to follow as he seduced my wife into our master bedroom, pulling at her clothes as they energetically undressed each other. It was hot; she was insatiable as their tongues twisted and their clothes were tossed aside. "Tell him," he whispered into her ear.
