To Have and to Cucold

INTRO

I have to start by apologizing for the lengthy intro, but this story is so outside of what I would write that I feel the need to explain it. I have recently reached out to people who are into the cuckold genre. If anyone has paid attention to my comments, they will realize that a common theme of mine is to respect each other's desires and try to learn from people who are different from you.

I love talking to people who are different from me. I love learning what makes them tick. There is nothing better than learning something new. At least in my mind.

So I began asking questions. I wanted to understand what a guy gets from allowing his wife to have sex with other men. I received several emails in response to my inquiry. Two of them stood out. I began a dialogue with these two individuals and they shared quite a bit with me. Both of their life stories fascinated me. I still keep in touch with them.

They inspired me to attempt to write a story with the cuckold theme. This was challenging for me because I had to be able to imagine a man going through it before I could put it on paper and make it believable.

Using their inspiration as well as bits from of their emails, I was able to construct this story. I originally planned for it to be three parts; however, as I explored the characters, it morphed. When I sent it to my editor, it was 109 pages of a word document. I broke it up into 7 parts.

I don't write stories with perfect people or evil ones. I try to keep characters as 3 dimensional as possible. To me a story is best when it makes both characters likable and unlikable. In my stories both of them will be flawed, yet enduring.

Now comes the warning. This story is a cuckold themed tale. If this brings back any repressed memories of past relationships or angers you in any way, I suggest you save yourself the trouble and heartache. In my opinion, you should skip to the end, 1 bomb it now, and move on to the next. The choice is yours. But you have been warned.

For those of you who want to give me the benefit of the doubt, I hope you enjoy.

As always, feel free to leave a comment. To me, that is the best part of the story. Whether you liked the tale or not, let me know why. Constructive comments will be appreciated, asinine rants will be ignored. Thank you.

THE PRESENT

- September 2015

BAM!

"Ma! Carlos tripped me!"

"Did not! Callie just fell because she's clumsy and stupid!"

"Yes you did you freaking jerk! You put your foot in the way!"

"Did not!"

"Did so!"

I sat in the basement and listened to the pandemonium upstairs. I almost smiled to myself at the nostalgia that it brought back. It sounded so similar to my sister Trina and me in our childhood. I would have smiled at the déjà vu, but my heart was still seared from the brand of painful thoughts brought on by betrayal. This brand restricted my face muscles, causing a semi-permanent scowl. Sigh. Life's a bitch. Then you die.

You might think that those were my kids waging World War III. I actually wish that it were. Sadly, the kids screaming and yelling at the top of their lungs are my niece and nephew. I do have a son, but he is at home with his mother.

I don't know exactly what act of preteen buffoonery launched the chaos, but I know that it was settled when Trina yelled at both of them to go to their rooms. I heard stomping and further name-calling, but things eventually settled down.

I bet you are wondering what is happening. It sucks starting in the middle of a tale. It's like missing the beginning of a movie. You find yourself asking a lot of questions that others who saw everything already know. Well, you can rest assured that you aren't the only one in the dark. I too am trying to put the pieces together in my head.

I am Josh. At a glimpse, I am a thirty five year old man with a loving wife, a wonderful son who thinks the world of me, and a great job that pays very well. Yet here I am lying down on a lumpy couch in the drafty basement of my sister's house instead of stretching out on my comfortable king sized bed at my own.

My mind is a whirlwind of activity, desperately running through the video of my life and trying to figure out when everything went to shit. I sit here, running through questions, hoping that my mind can grasp something to hold on to.

Where did things go wrong? Why is this happening to me? What did I do to deserve this? Why me?

Or perhaps I am just fooling myself. The sad and sobering thing is I know the moment when I stopped being the director of my own movie.

It was the moment when I made a conscious choice to set my life down this path. The moment when I allowed lust and a need for excitement to make my choices for me. That is the moment I gave it all away. All of the soul searching I am doing right now is simply me trying to justify that decision and make me feel like less of a loser.

A lot of people look at the bad things in their life and say that it all "spun out of control". These people are deluding themselves. Truth is, things rarely "spin out of control". People who believe that have a victim's mentality and don't want to - or can't bring themselves to - take responsibility for their own bad decisions. More often than not, a person would be better served looking for the moment when they gave up control. People who consistently can't pay their bills can find moments when they made a foolish spending decision and purchased things that they had no business buying. Merovingian from "The Matrix Reloaded" describes this truth of life as causality. Action, reaction. Cause and Effect.

Simply put, Choices have consequences. When a person makes the wrong choice, they suffer. Period. If you stop playing the victim and are honest with yourself, you will find the source of your pain in the mirror.

This moment of clarity, my epiphany if you will, didn't just happen suddenly. It has been about 10 years in the making. That is how long I've known Naomi, my wife. Married for eight years, she has been a constant source of lectures in my personal school of hard knocks.

My tale goes back a little further though. You see, I have long been willing to view myself as a victim. I was raised in an environment that catered to me constantly. Growing up as a kid, I really didn't have to work hard at much. Let me explain.

I was a miracle baby for parents who were told that they would never have kids of their own. Something about my mom's uterus not being able to carry a child full term. Devastated by this news, they went through hell. I've been told that they came really close to calling it quits. They eventually found a way to heal each other, and in doing so, found the love that they'd forgotten. Once past the pain, they decided to start a family through adoption.

My parents soon found out that adoption was not easy. It was a grueling and rigorous process. They paid a lot of money and were put under a microscope for months. Everything was brought to the light. Finances, past relationships, parents, medical history. Everything. They held their resolve though, and their reward was a beautiful 2 year old girl.

Life is a comedian at times. Three months after my parents adopted Trina, my mom found out she was pregnant with me. The doctors weren't very optimistic about her chances to actually give birth to me. At first my parents tried to keep their emotions in check, maintaining a certain amount of distance from the child in my mother's womb. They had found their way back from the edge of divorce and they weren't going to let this put them through that pain again. But feelings of anticipation became inevitable around month six. By month seven, my mom wasn't allowed to do anything but lay in the bed with her feet up. Despite their precautions, I was born a month early.

While I was strong enough to survive with the help of diligent doctors, I still was pretty sick as a small child and required a lot of attention. I eventually grew stronger and healthier. The only thing that has lingered is the fact that I am diabetic. Not the fat people kind of diabetes, but the kind that you are born with.

Anyways, you can imagine how much my parents doted on me. I never wanted for anything. All I had to do was ask. If that didn't work, whining was a decent second option. If that failed, all out tantrums worked. Even as a teenager I could almost always get my way. Sure, the tantrums changed from sprawling out on the floor kicking and screaming to me simply giving my parents the "silent treatment" until they gave in, but a duck is still a duck.

My sister did not have it that easy. My parents made her earn everything that she got. They were hard on her. If she brought home a B, they asked her how much longer could she have studied to get an A. They stayed on her about her chores. On top of that, she was often held responsible for MY fuck-ups. "If she were a better sister, I wouldn't have done it." You get the picture.

You may be getting a wrong perception of sister's place in our parents' hearts. Perhaps you are imagining a Cinderella type family. But it wasn't like that. My parents have always loved Trina from the first moment she came home. She was everything that a daughter should be. They were hard on her, but I think that may have something to do with the family that Trina came from. I never found out the full story of why my sister needed a new family, but over the years I've heard bits and pieces. I think her biological mom was a prostitute and her biological dad was a drug dealer, but I'm not completely sure. Nevertheless, my parents were determined that she would not pay for the sins of her parents.

Despite their good intentions, life in our house always gave the perception that I was the favorite. I even believed it for a while. I know she did. The catch phrase of our childhood was, "I bet you wouldn't care if Josh did that!"

You would think that this would breed some contention and strife between us, but it wasn't so. Oh sure, we got into it countless times. I was selfish, she was bossy; I was a spoiled brat, she was a stuck up bitch; you know, the usual stuff. But she was a great big sister; she always took care of me. We weren't best friends who hung out all of the time, but we were very close. Every time I have needed her, she has always been there. Nothing has ever kept her from helping me.

Because I always had a great safety net growing up, I never really suffered negative consequences for bad choices. If I stole something from the store (only happened once, I swear), my sister was blamed for not watching me. If I got a bad grade, my parents blamed the teacher for not teaching it properly. If I got in a fight, my sister, the teacher, and the other kid's parents were blamed. You get the picture.

I eventually grew up though. I went to college and learned how to repair electronics. I wasn't an engineer per se, more like an engineer technician. I don't build anything. Instead I fix the things that others build. It is the difference between an Automotive Engineer and a mechanic. After I graduated I got a job with a company that has contracts with the several factories. We maintain, repair, and upgrade their machinery. It was a very well paying job.

Still, my victim's mentality emerges at times. I have had times where I still reacted like that premature baby who depended on others to give me what I needed instead of finding it within myself to get it. It's hard to overcome the characteristics that you develop as a child. My sister, my wife, and my parents, all - at some point or another - were a crutch for me.

But life, oh boy, life can be a heartless teacher. Life works overtime to beat into our brains the things that we didn't learn as children. Hence, my marriage.

As you hear my story the word cuckold may pop into your mind time and time again. While I never consciously thought of myself that way, I can see how the term could fit. There is a stereotype of the kind of guy I am in association with that title; short, nerdy, maybe a little bit fat. Oh, and of course, the proverbial little dick. You know, the kind of guy that doesn't have women knocking down their doors and ripping their clothes off. But that isn't me. While I'm not particularly tall, I'm definitely not short. I played basketball and football in high school, so you can pretty much guess what my physique is like. I had my first non-solo orgasm at a fairly young age due to a blowjob, and shortly after that I found the pleasures of vaginal sex with a different girl. I have had pretty decent sexual encounters since then. While I wasn't fucking all of the time like Hugh Heffner of old, I wasn't lacking in horizontal company. All in all, I was comfortable with the fairer sex. I was about as successful in my experience with them as most good looking guys are.

However, Naomi is no ordinary woman. Let me tell you about her and how we started.

TEN YEARS AGO

- May 2005

The first thing you should know about Naomi is that she is sexy and she knows it. A dangerous combination.

This is the part where I might tell you that my wife is of supermodel proportions with a thousand watt smile that turns limp noodles into raging erections within a matter of seconds. Well, that is actually somewhat true.

She does have a dazzling smile that lights up her face. Her laugh is infectious. Those two things mixed with her eyes makes men believe that they are the only one in the world when she is talking to them. It isn't the color of her eyes that does it. They are light brown; pretty, but not at all rare. It's the way that they twinkle when she is in full flirt mode.

She doesn't have the body of a supermodel like you sometimes hear in these stories. No, she is a real girl. She does have a full C cup bra size and a soft, round ass; however, her waist isn't a size 2 and she does not have abs of steel like you see on pop singers like Jennifer Lopez. Her stomach is flat stomach and she has no hanging flab.

She isn't fat, nor is she skinny. But her body has the curves in all the places that makes a woman desirable. Trust me, if she walked out of the room wearing yoga pants and sports bra, you would notice her.

Simply put, Naomi exudes sensuality. Don't get me wrong. She isn't trashy. She doesn't dress in clothes that are too tight or show a lot of skin, but she knows how to wear clothes that accentuates her sexuality without advertising it. Beige or white sweaters that cup her full breasts and hug her stomach, jeans that embrace her ass and curve with its roundness, or open toed shoes that show-case her pedicured feet are her weapons of choice. She has that unique ability to accentuate her assets without begging for attention.

On top of her sex appeal, she is smart. She has drive to be successful at whatever she does and is extremely competitive. As beautiful as she is, her confidence in herself actually trumps her looks. She is poised enough to always look her best, but classy enough to not try too hard to draw attention. These things about her are what makes her sex appeal so...appealing.

She went through a period in which she wasn't this person, but she came out of it. When she did, she was a force to be reckoned with. But that part of the story comes later.

So, when I was introduced to her through a friend, I was surprised at how friendly and receptive she was to me. I am comfortable around women, but we guys know when we come across one that is out of our league. Well, my first impression of her was that she was in another ball game all together.

To my astonishment, she smiled genuinely at me as we interacted. She threw her had back laughed at my jokes, even when they were marginally funny. She touched my arm and leaned in close when she was speaking to me. Basically, she flirted with me. I decided that I wouldn't forgive myself if I didn't ask for her number, so I did. She threw me for a loop when she turned me down, but took my number instead.

It's funny how hindsight can give you clarity of the times life tried to foreshadow your future for you. This small act of control gave a glimpse into who Naomi really is. Always on top of her game. Always in the driver seat.

She waited for a week to call me. By day three I'd accepted the fact that she wasn't going to call. I figured that she politely took my number so that she didn't have to blow me off to my face. When I heard her voice on the phone I almost choked. After an initial moment of surprise, we had a decent conversation for about 10 minutes until she got to the reason why she called.

"You busy Saturday?"

"No, why?"

"Because I wanted to know if you wanna hang out with me."

In my life it is very rare that an attractive woman asks a man out. Unattractive women may, but usually pretty women have become accustomed to being chased. They find that they don't have to ask a man out. They simply send the signals out that they are up to BEING ASKED. Asking first sends off a vibe of desperation. If the dufus that they are with misses subtle hints that she throws at him, then she just gives less subtle ones. Eventually she will give up and write him off as either gay, uninterested, stupid, or just not confident enough to seal the deal. Either way she chalks him up as a dud and moves on. One thing about hot women is that there will ALWAYS be another guy around the corner just waiting for his chance.

But to have a girl who looked like Naomi actually call me out of the blue and ask me out was unexpected to say the least. She didn't have that "I need a man" vibe about her. I couldn't imagine her being starved for attention. Yet she asked me out with no hint of insecurity about breaking the unspoken rules of courting. I was taken aback for a moment.

"Ummm, sure. That'd be cool. What did you want to do?"

She seemed to think for a moment before she responded with, "I don't know Josh. Surprise me."

Once again, she threw me. Here she was asking me out, yet I was the one left with the task of surprising her. It was like she was auditioning me to see if I had what it took to keep her interested. Kinda like she was saying, "Here's your shot. Don't blow it."

When I hung up with her, I was very intrigued, and if I'm honest, a little intimidated. I wanted to impress Naomi and didn't think dinner and a movie was going to do the trick. I decided to ask the only person who has always given me sound advice.

My sister Trina has always been that person. Plus, she was no stranger to male attention herself. Naturally, her appeal was lost on me since I have always seen her as the big sister whom I loved to annoy, but I've heard other guys refer to her as "hot".

When I dialed her number I hoped that she would be able to give me some good pointers about what would be a good first date activity that would impress but not seem like I'm trying too hard.

I was wrong. When I told her about my predicament, she didn't give me any kind of advice - she gave me an earful! You see, in my excitement about going out with Naomi, I'd forgotten that I promised my three year old niece and four year old nephew that I'd go with them to the local carnival that Saturday. Trina burst my bubble when she reminded me of that promise (BTW, I hate carnivals. I only promised to go for the kids). No amount of pleading or explaining myself got Trina to release me from my commitment.

Since I had caller ID on my cell, I had Naomi's number. So I reluctantly called her to deliver the news that I had to reschedule. She sounded disappointed at first. I was hoping that I could talk her into giving me a second chance so I explained about my niece and nephew and told her how important it was for me to keep my promise to them.