"Open your heart to love but protect the love you already have" - Random Fortune Cookie
My name's John and I love Cuck stories. But not the more popular Cuckold stories. Nope. My personal kink is Cuckquean stories. If you're not familiar, I don't blame you. I didn't know the term until about five years ago But I'd always loved the idea. Maybe it's the stories of genies and harems when I was a kid. Maybe it's just biological. I don't know. I just always liked the idea of having a bevy of beautiful, willing women.
The thing that really kicked my secret kink into high gear, however, was my wife's poor health and the way she chose to cope with it. Or, more particularly, the way she encouraged me to cope with it. My wife is the love of my life. I have been the doting husband to her and our two children for the better part of two decades. And while I always had these thoughts of other women in the back of my head, I never once acted on them. Unfortunately, as my wife's health deteriorated, she started carrying all the guilt of our waning sex life on her shoulders. After a year of having sex once a month (at best), she came to a realization.
"John, I think something needs to change with us," she said quietly to me one night out of the blue. We were lying in bed, in the dark, watching her favorite show and trying to take her mind from the pain.
"Why? What?" I asked with uncertainty.
"I... I know you have... you know... needs."
I looked at her, "Helen, I don't..."
"Don't do that, John. I know this is hell for you."
I laughed, "It's not... really, it's not. It's not ideal but you have it way worse than I do."
"I know... I'm not saying I don't. I just don't want to be carrying this burden of ALSO making you unhappy."
"You don't. I promise," I said and kissed her forehead softly. She snuggled into my arms, grunting with the exertion of moving.
"You need to find some happiness," she whispered.
"Helen... I'm not leaving you. Ever."
"I'm not telling you to, idiot. Maybe just... you know... find someone to help you relieve a little stress."
"What do you mean?" I asked. I couldn't help it though, the thought of what my wife might be hinting at was causing my cock to stir.
"Maybe... you know... find a girlfriend... a friend with benefits... or friends even. Just come home to me and maybe tell me about it afterwards?"
"Open my heart to love but protect you too?" I asked.
"Exactly," she said.
"I... I don't think I could do that," I told her.
She looked at me, a little tear in her eye, "I think you can but I understand why you think differently. Just know that if you want, it's okay. And think about it my love." She closed her eyes, tired from the days effort, and drifted off to sleep leaving me to think about what she'd just said. I tried to put the idea out of my mind but it just kept worming its way deeper and deeper into my brain.
The week passed by and we didn't talk again about it. One week turned into two and then a month. The conversation was mostly forgotten. Meanwhile, I was was trying to finish my first novel. It was an undertaking I'd started when Helen's health had first started to deteriorate. A hobby to help pass the time for myself. Now I was experiencing awful writer's block. I just couldn't get the ending to come together and it was leaving me incredibly frustrated (not good for a hobby that was supposed to distract from my other frustrations). I looked around for writing forums on reddit and stumbled across r/dirtypenpals. It wasn't exactly what I was looking for but, as it turned out, it was exactly what I needed. People post erotic writing prompts and you collaborate with someone to tell a story. Some of the interactions were purely platonic (despite the inherent sexiness of the endeavor) but some interactions turned into actual relationships.
My first serious one was with a girl named Constance. She was an Asian girl from Toronto who had a real fetish for Overwatch erotica. Violent Overwatch erotica. I liked her but she had... issues. The scenes she wanted me to write were... I think 'extreme' might be to gentle a word. I have no problem going dark with my fantasies but not that dark. It put me in this really weird mental place with her. When we weren't talking about sex or writing the extended Overwatch novella that we were collaborating on, she was really cool and intelligent. I liked her a lot. When she ghosted me for a week (as it turned out, she was being stalked IRL by somebody and thought it was me) I was devastated. I realized that our flirting and sexy talk had built an actual emotional attachment. The whole thing had grown slowly and I hadn't even realized what was happening. It was my first warning sign about this lifestyle and what it might entail emotionally.
I talked to Helen about it in the week when Constance disappeared.
"So I did something dumb," I told her.
"What?" she asked.
"I... I started talking to someone... online," I said, not sure how to tell the story.
"A girl?" she asked.
I nodded, ashamed of what I perceived to be my own weakness. Helen saw it differently. She rolled over on her elbow, wincing only slightly but a twinkle in her eye spoke of another emotion. Intrigue. "Tell me..." she said with desperation.
"I... I... we just started trading stories... well, basically making an erotic fanfic story."
"What about?"
"Uhmm... that shooter of Blizzard's," I said. Helen nodded and I continued, "She... she likes some pretty extreme stuff," I told her.
"Like what?" Helen asked.
I didn't want to share all of it. It just felt like too much. But I gave her the brief outline. "Women being tied up... spanked... smacked."
Helen rolled onto her back and slid a hand into her panties. "And you guys tell each other the story?"
"Sometimes it's mostly me telling it," I said as I watched my wife finger herself slowly. The pain she was in usually kept her from getting turned on but if she was ABLE to get turned on, she could push past it, at least for awhile.
"Do you just tell the stories? Or... or do you talk to her?"
"We talk a lot too... we're kind of friends."
"What does she look like?"
"I don't really know. She's half-asian and 24."
"Does she live close by?" Helen asked, "Do you want to meet her?"
"Seriously, Helen?"
"Yessss," she said.
"Yes, I want to meet her. No she doesn't live close by. Other side of the continent actually. Toronto."
"What do you talk about?"
"All kinds of stuff. Computer games. Politics."
"Sex? With each other?"
I paused, "Sometimes." My voice was quiet, still unsure of where this was going. My wife's back arched as she continued to play with herself. I reached over and stroked her impossibly hard nipple, grazing it through her thin t-shirt. She shuddered and moaned with arousal. "She calls me, Master," I said into Helen's ear. That did it for her. She came so hard she couldn't keep quiet. I had to clamp my hand over her mouth to keep from waking the kids. Her whole body shook as she screamed into my palm.
When she finally calmed down, she looked at me and spread her legs lewdly. "Fuck me... Master." My wife had never called me that before. I'd never thought to ask. I thought I'd liked it when Constance called me that in text chats, but to hear my wife say it out loud? Let's just say my cock had never been harder. I rolled over on top of her and within moments we were fucking harder than we ever had before. I was pounding her and she was moaning into my ear, "Fuck me, Master. Fuck her, Master. Fuck your little fucking Asian fuck toy, Master. Do it. Do me. Do anyone you want, Master." We both came hard and I collapsed on top of her as she showered my neck, cheek and shoulder with kisses.
"I love you. I love you. I love you," she whispered as she wrapped her legs around me.
"Are you okay?" I asked, concerned.
She nodded, tears coming out of her eyes but smiling, "It hurt a little. I'll probably pay for that tomorrow but it was worth it, lover. That was so good. I needed that." She looked at me through tired eyes, "You needed that."
When Constance showed back up online, I was relieved. She told me about her stalker and her fear that it was me. She had texted me minutes after the police told her they'd arrested him. She needed to know. I was very happy and we started things back up right where we left off. When I told me wife, she was also ecstatic and this time, instead of keeping it a secret, I told my wife everything. I rounded off some of the rougher edges of the story. Some of the violence that Constance pushed towards, I left out. Which was just as well because my wife didn't care about the fanfic at all. She wanted to know about Constance and I. She pushed me to push Constance. To build a relationship. It became her obsession. Constance was understandably concerned about sending pictures but Helen suggested that I ask for an audio. Constance agreed. She was going to edge herself nightly for a month and then send me an audio of her first orgasm after 30 days of denial. My wife loved the idea. I loved the idea. Constance seemed to like the idea.
And then, the night of her birthday. The night she was finally going to have that orgasm, she ghosted me for good. Funnily enough, the second time didn't hurt as bad as the first. I'd come to grips with the emotional attachment I'd let myself have and had guarded against it. I didn't want to get like that with a stranger from the internet. My wife, on the other hand, was devastated. We'd been having sex two or three times a week thanks to the sexting Constance and I had been having. Considering that once a month had been the high water mark for the last couple of years, that volume had been amazing. Helen (and probably myself) hadn't been this happy in a long time. We'd made plans to listen to the audio together. We'd sent the kids to my parents house. Instead, we were left empty handed and sad.
Helen was upset at first. Angry and sad. However, she redoubled her efforts.
"This works, John. Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me our sex life has ever been better than this? Even before I was sick," she said. There was a fire in her eyes. Not anger. Determination.
