My Marriage My Wife My Life Pt 06

Authors Notes.

My Marriage, My Wife, My Life. Pt 06

I have decided to put some order to the contributions I make with respect to My Marriage, My Wife, My Life - hence numbering. As I am tending to do, I found myself mixing the basic events as I remember them, with my own take and a certain amount of leeway in how, with some wishful thinking, things might have gone - if they didn't.

I ask Sandy to read my work before posting.

***

Telling Anonymous How It Is... And my First Formal Introduction.

From the comments section I can see there are differing opinions of me and of my writing. I don't mind that, as I have alluded to Sandy and I enjoy reading them, good, bad, supportive and hostile. The opinions directed in my direction go from 'fiction' to 'no balls cuck' to - well whatever Sandy throws my way lol... Joke.

I am though, a self-confessed cuckold. Cuckold, it's one of those words that gets bandied about as an insult. It is also a word often used out of context, whether it be towards someone who has different, usually left-wing politics, or someone who has just been screwed over by life in general, or used to describe someone like me. It's a word I have been called to my face, and I admit I've not always liked it. Yes, I have been called 'cuckold' derisively and in such a way that had seen me clench my fists and show someone the door, but that has happened twice in thirty-six years. Sometimes though, if said in an atmosphere of heightened eroticism, I have been left with a huge boner (I say 'huge' metaphorically). Mostly though, when I am called a 'cuckold' it is in jest or in teasing sex talk, or to let me know, non-too subtly, my place in any given situation, and often by my wife with affection - and often in an excited tone.

So, I figure - water off a ducks back and why not own it. I am one of those men who finds enjoyment from knowing my wife is out with another man or men, I get off on it, I masturbate to it, and Sandy knows that. She finds it amusing, and in her words 'endearing'. It works for us, and our long-lasting relationship I like to think is evidence of that. Don't, get me wrong. I know I, no we are in a minority and what we have isn't for everyone, hence the 'anonymous' vitriol - but that can be said for many types of lifestyle.

I get a perverse pleasure, yes, I know it will seem perverse to most, from watching her prepare for a date or a hook-up. I get aroused from seeing her sat in front of her dressing table, taking care with her makeup, watching her fix her hair, layout her clothes, even her shoes, wondering if she's going to remove her rings before leaving. Perverse to normies, but to me it seems normal and Sandy is happy I feel this way. How do I know - she's told me often enough.

Truth is, I get a feeling of insecure angst that boosts my adrenalin. I feel both scared and excited from the moment Sandy leave for her tryst, to her coming home to greet me with a smile and a simple affectionate kiss to the cheek or, if she's had an amazing time, a more intense lip-smacking kiss as if to say 'thank you'.

You see Sandy knows and understands the power of reassurance that small gestures can hold.

Over the years I have watched Sandy being fucked hundreds of times - go figure. If possible, I like to be present if I can, but I admit, if I am it isn't always easy on me. Sometimes during the heated passion of a tryst, you hear or see things that cannot be unseen or unheard -- maybe a glance that speaks volumes, a flash of her eyes directed at someone else that pulls at me, a plea or an endearment shared, but not with me. This can be whether I am actively participating or openly observing or playing the part of the unwitting, unknowing husband - even, as happens, if I remain out of sight to furtively spy.

On top of this, I am, well Sandy and I have decided I am, in Psychology terms 'a soft masochist', in that I have get a kick and a rush from being humiliated to varying degrees of intensity. This can go from the outright challenging 'how could you possibly stand for that' to the subtle predatory 'what no reaction?' Over the years we have also indulged and tipped our toes into some forms of BDSM play, with me being universally on the recipient end of things as Sandy found her predilection edges in the other direction of the BDSM spectrum to mine - what can I say, we are more matched than we thought. I have, on occasion and with Sandy's considered intent and knowledge been left temporarily marked and bruised, nothing too extreme. We did however have one relationship where things would go too far, but never too far that Sandy or I brought an end to proceedings and the relationship in question died a natural death. I am sure I will write about that.

Sandy is open about the fact she enjoys having me at 'her mercy'. Sandy admits she loves me but gets a weird pleasure from seeing me squirm but is conscious of and sometimes has to pull herself back from totally letting go knowing my limits. She is equally adamant what she does is for and with me rather than solely for herself, and that BDSM play be something we use to spice or change things up rather than adopt wholesale.

***

Sandy does disagree with my take on myself, she is definitely not a fan of the word 'cuckold', she just thinks it's a word people use to demean rather than celebrate. She will use it, but only in certain situations where she knows I'm getting some kick out of her doing so. But in our own discussions, and in the occasional discussion with others Sandy will say we enjoy a one-sided open-ended marriage, she believes it sounds less 'playground-ish' less stigmatising.

At the start of our relationship, I think I was more of Stag type role, knowing she was 'playing away' as they say, but then it was only later, months into living together that I began to get some form of satisfaction or enjoyment from knowing she was. Initially I just hung in there hoping Sandy would have her fun and then stop. Sandy was being discrete, didn't involve me, didn't broadcast what she was doing. In reality I had no idea when she went out if she was going to meet up with her friends or a guy.

Then one night, when I saw her being dropped off home by 'a date' my take on things took a dramatic turn, that was as she invited me to go down on her - which I did. Then I accidentally caught her kissing a guy at a party and then I bumped into her while she was out on a date.

Following that last incident, things began to build up, I told her how I didn't like the feeling that came from being on the outside looking in. I appreciated her being discrete but didn't like that she seemed to be happily leading two different lives, but I was only a part of one.

What had brought this to a head was when, in my presence and to my face she had denied our own relationship - that was when I'd bumped into her. Inside I knew she hadn't meant to hurt, but she had and the worst part was she thought she hadn't. The gist of the conversation that followed was that she would be more open, tell me more, not hide what she was doing or where she was going or even who she was with, and if the circumstance presented itself, and she felt comfortable, she'd introduce me for who I was.

Now on paper this might sound as if I was now more involved, more aware. Sadly, it didn't quite work out like that. Things more or less carried on as they had been with any talk being stinted and awkward. I got the distinct impression she disapproved of what I was wanting, was embarrassed by me, maybe even horrified. I was left wondering what thoughts Sandy had of me, how did she think of me, was it kindly or otherwise - I suspected otherwise.

Bearing in mind, while I had what I acknowledge were stupid thoughts, I knew she was openly into seeing other men and she would occasionally feed me their cream-pies upon coming home - so we weren't exactly vanilla.

This ongoing situation began to prey on my mind. I stopped myself from raising the issue, got fed up of the deflections so I adopted self-censorship, even during our own sex play and sex talk. The result was, although still madly in love with Sandy, I became less happy with the status quo. I wasn't angry at what Sandy was doing or what she got up to with other men, any anger I felt came from feeling that she was excluding from what was her 'other life'. I got it into my head that I was treading water, waiting for Sandy to meet that someone she didn't want to 'step out on'.

Eventually, one Saturday lunchtime, as we finished our meal I said "We need to talk." Of course, I had no idea of the significant of those words as understood on Literotica. Sandy looked amused, puzzled, and asked 'What about'.

I asked her to listen. I was about to start talking when she piped in, as if she had somewhere better to be. She looked at her watch, "Come on John, spit it out, what is it you want to talk about."

Sandy doesn't remember it that way, doesn't think she would be that cold, but I genuinely felt the pit of my stomach drop. In annoyance I said, "Us... What do you think I want to talk about?"

With a look of bewilderment she replied, "I have no idea, I'm asking! What is it about us. We're okay, aren't we?"

Feeling the wind had dropped from my sails I simply replied, "Yes... We are... It's nothing. Forget it. It'll wait."

I collected up the plates and went to the sink. As I was rinsing the first plate, I could sense her in the doorway, watching me. I glanced at her.

She glared, "What?"

As I rinsed the second plate she spoke. I heard her soft voice. "You think I've gone back on my promises?"

"Haven't you?" I asked.

She sighed, "More avoiding the repercussions..."

I could sense her unease. "Truth is," she said, "I'm scared of what might happen if things went skewwhiff."

I laughed to myself but she could hear me. I answered, "I told you I would walk away if anything became too much."

"Yes... But then what...? What would I then have to deal with. I just find it hard to believe you're okay seeing me with someone, most men wouldn't be."

"Ah... So, because I'm saying I won't fly into a fit of rage you're doubting my manhood."

"No, I'm not... That's not what I am saying."

"Feels like you are."

"John... I've seen what happens when guys start fighting. When someone catches their girl with someone else."

I just looked out of the window. "Yeh, sure - that's it."

Sandy snapped, "Okay, that's enough... You know I don't do self-pity."

I turned, feeling angry. "Wanting you to be honest with me is not self-pity!"

We just looked at one another. There followed a period of silence. Eventually I walked past Sandy and grabbed my jacket.

I heard Sandy. "Where are you going."

"Out."

***

That night I sheepishly returned back to our flat. I found her watching the TV. Before I could say anything she switched the TV off.

"For your information I've been doing some reading..."

"Why... "I asked, "To see if I'm a weirdo?"

Sandy laughed, "Fuck if you're a weirdo what does that make me?"

I didn't smile. Her face dropped.

"Okay John, were going to have problems if that's what you think I'd think of you."

I knew I'd been lashing out, been angry because I felt things weren't going my way. When I walked in I had planned to say sorry but I was too pissed off. I didn't want to argue, so I said I was tired and was going to bed. Sandy just watched me walk into the bedroom.

Sandy followed and watched me undressing.

"Are you being serious, its 9pm."

"I'm tired."

She blew out her cheeks. "I want you to meet Clive."

Without it registering I asked "Who's Clive?"

"Someone I know."

I looked up. "No thank you."

"I insist."

"You insist."

"Were meeting for drinks tomorrow night."

I laughed. "No, were not."

Sandy's last words before she left the bedroom, "We are."

***

The following night she adjusted my collar and brushed imaginary fluff from my shoulders. Both of us had calmed down. She smiled, "You look nice."

"So do you" I said back. "So, why do you want me to meet this Clive guy?"

"A baby step... I promised baby steps and this is one... And I trust him."

Impatiently I said, "It isn't necessary."

Sandy smiled. "Oh, but it is..."

***

Walking into the bar I instinctively knew which of the several males was Clive as he looked up, he smiled, more grinned upon seeing Sandy. He looked to be about five or six years older than us. Looked dapper, a bit too handsome for my liking.

I whispered, "Does he know about us."

"Yes."

We approached and he stood and Sandy made the introductions.

"John, this is Clive, Clive is a Barrister..." Sandy smiled, "Clive does work for us, we sometimes work together. Clive, this is John, my fiancé."

By doing work for us Sandy was referring to the firm of solicitors she worked for. He offered me his hand.

"Nice to meet you John, Sandy is always talking about you."

I answered stereotypically, "She is... All good I hope."

"You're a lucky man, that's all I can say."

Sandy piped in as she linked my arm, "So are you Clive."

He smiled. "Yes, I am..." Then laughed, "Were all lucky."

I immediately felt that Sandy had said what she said as a brazen hint, a hint I might find humiliating... Clive's response equally so. I certainly felt the one 'not in the know'. Perhaps I was reading meaning into things that weren't there.

Sandy leant in and they hugged.

Just then the waitress walked over with a tray of three drinks. Breaking their hug. "I took the liberty of ordering for us... He looked at me, "You don't mind, do you?"

Sandy answered. "Not at all, nice to see a man who knows what he wants."

'Okay' I thought. 'Sandy is going full on with this. Is this Clive in on it too?' 'Am I being played?'

As if by foresight or prior knowledge my drink was what I would have ordered myself in such a situation, Jack Daniels on the rocks. Normally I'm a 'beer guy' but this was not a 'beer guy' situation.

Then, as we sat down and made ourselves comfortable Clive addressed me and said, "I am very grateful."

I asked, "Grateful?"

"Yes, for being so good about Sandy being my plus one to the Yorkshire Barristers Association Dinner next Saturday."

I looked at Sandy, she smiled. I knew she had deliberately blind-sided me. "Err yes."

"Of course you can rely on me to be the perfect gentleman."

This was when Sandy joined in, "Oh Clive I know you will be -- just 'the' perfect Gentleman."

Clive looked at me, "Kudos to you though... A lot of men would be jealous of their fiancé staying out overnight. All I can say is, Sandy is lucky to have such an understanding boyfriend."

'Okay they were playing a game and I felt like piggy in the middle, a suddenly aroused piggy in the middle'. I coughed. "What is it I'm missing?"

Sandy looked at me. Did I catch a look that said I'd spoiled her fun.

"Lots."

Then, "And now that you've met Clive, my date for Saturday night. I'd like you to go home and wait for me..." And an almost challenging tone, "I take it Clive meets with your approval?"

I was not only blind-sided but bushwhacked. "Yes."

"Good... I shouldn't be too late; Clive is in court tomorrow."

I looked at Sandy who gave me a wide-eyed cocky smile and sipped her drink. I looked at Clive who just smiled and took a sip from his drink.

"Err, yes. Well, it's been nice meeting you Clive... I should be going, early night and all that, busy day tomorrow."

"Oh, what is it you do John?"

"Err... Electronics engineer."

He nodded as if to say he knew I was saving face, rather poorly. Then Sandy said, in an almost impatient tone. "Well, bye."

I had such an erection that I had to try and adjust. I downed my drink, said my goodbyes, went to kiss Sandy who turned at the last second to offer me her cheek which I pecked. Then I left. I looked back into the bar through the large window and could see them sat at the table, they seemed to be talking, at least they weren't laughing which made me feel better.

My heart was racing. I had a full gamut of emotions, luckily, they were all the emotions I wanted. Sandy had played me. It was as if she had read me. It had been short, to the point, letting me know how things could be if I persisted, and it confirmed to me what I wanted, I had willingly left her with another man. The cherry on the cake being dismissed as I had been. I'd still been excluded, but as a means of pulling me into her other life, and not to keep me out of it. I felt a win.

That night when Sandy walked in, she smiled, "Was that to your liking?"

"Yes."

"Clive's nice isn't he, he's good at what he does, he's going places. He'll probably be in Chambers in London by the end of the year."

"He seems okay... Did he really know about me, us?"

"Yes, well not at first. He had been hitting on me and I was leading him on and then one day he overheard me talking about you to another colleague, you know I am proud of you and I do sing your praises. Anyway, hearing me talk about you he backed off on his own account. A few days later I asked if I'd upset him in some way. He laughed at that and said no, he admitted that he really fancied me, fancy him using that phrase 'fancied me', cute don't you think! But now knowing I had a boyfriend he didn't think I'd be interested in taking things further. So, I told him you and I were very open minded and that I was free to spend time with whom I wanted."

Her explanation sounded reasonable, so I asked, "Can I ask, is there really a Dinner next Saturday?"

"The Yorkshire Barristers Association Annual Dinner and Dance." She laughed, "That's a mouthful... Yes, you know the tickets cost £150 each and that's for a 'Young' member... But it's all going to a good cause, some charity or other - I forget what."

Sandy smiled; she could see the cogs turning in my head. "I was going to tell you that I had made plans to visit a friend who was going through a break-up and that I would be staying over - sorry, a kind of half-truth?"

Then she nudged me. "You know one day, when I qualify, you'll be my plus one."

I was at a loss at what to say, so I laughed. I then asked, "So... "Do you have a dress picked out."

"Oh yes, I certainly do." She flinched, "It was a little expensive. You don't mind do you, I mean it's not like I can wear it again."

Anyone who knows me knows I don't like wasting money. "After you've worn it, couldn't you repurpose it?"

"I suppose I could. We'll see. I might just sell it."

"Well... Do I get to see it?"

"Don't worry, I'll show it to you... So, babe; you coming to bed or stopping up to watch TV..." Sandy grinned, "You're supposed to be having an early night if I remember right."

I smiled. "I'm coming to bed."

Sandy chuckled with a long drawn out, "I hope you're hungry..."

Epilogue

Sandy remembers the above events and what were difficult discussions and enjoys my 'wishful thinking' additions. She assured me she never thought me weird and was never embarrassed by me, sometimes feeling for me, but emphasising she was never embarrassed in me. Sandy says she was more scared of doing something or taking things too far that would see me react in a way that would see the two of us part company - and she didn't want that.

She said she felt Clive was the perfect 'test' for me as he knew about us, not everything but enough - and she really liked him. She also felt he was mature enough to go along with what she'd asked of him when she'd called him Saturday while I was out 'sulking'.

I asked "Did I pass the test then."

I already knew I had passed the 'test' as Sandy put it. Sandy's relatively close relationship with Clive had continued with him going on to become an integral part of our lives for several years. Not interfering in our own relationship but being present - a consideration for want of a better word. For a time, Clive became a bench mark.