Evolution of a cuckold relationship by a hotwife

As a ‘hotwife’, I got into this scene thanks in many ways to my partner Sam. I wouldn’t ordinarily use words like ‘slut’ or ‘hussy’ to describe myself but truth be told, in previous, unhappier, relationships I had cheated on my partners without them knowing. In part it was because I was escaping from the repressive and monotonous nature of the situation I found myself in with my ex, but equally perhaps because I enjoyed fun and, yes, sex. It didn’t make me proud but it didn’t make me feel guilty either, it was necessary for my own happiness and with only one life I felt why the hell not. Looking back, I won’t be judged on it either, not by those not in my situation, just as I would never judges others. But with Sam, things were different. He was lovely, fun, charming and attractive. He made me, and in many ways still does make me, happy. I know a good thing when I see it so I wasn’t inclined to stray and although we are now in a cuckold/hotwife relationship, that remains the same. I had no interest in other men, not until that fateful halloween night when our pillow talk veered into the realms of cuckoldry, resulting in a hot, sweaty, erotic night beneath the duvet, and we haven’t looked back.

That night something resurfaced in my mind, something that hadn’t ruminated for a long time, the prospect of random sex with random men. My mind, and my heart raced with the prospect and although Sam was sheepish about the whole thing the next day, I had to bring it up. I had to know if he really wanted it, it would only sit comfortably with me if he did as I didn’t need it in our relationship but the idea was exciting all the same. He did.

Well we did everything right, we took our time and we talked, a lot. We both had lots of arousing fun as we entered the world of cuckolding. We were able to delve into both our deepest fantasises, we played at the house and at clubs and I had by first bbc and even played alone once on a hen do in Portugal. Sam embraced his submissive cravings, embracing chastity and his sissy side. Over the next couple of years we successfully managed our vanilla and kinky lives alongside one another. That was until our desire to move our vanilla along became more prominent and we took a break from our kinky lifestyle to have kids. It was a wonderful time and, although we were not playing, it gave us plenty of time to talk about it.

Perhaps it was a fortuitous time to take a step back and assess where we were, we had experienced enough at that point to understand where our interests lay and what we could both handle. It was evident too that certain aspects of our lives and the sexual dynamic between us had changed because of our cuckold experiences but neither of us were perturbed by this. It wouldn’t be uncommon for Sam to join me in bed at night wearing panties or a nightie. If it wasn’t sexually arousing for me, it was certainly comforting and intimate to let him cuddle into me like this enjoying his warmth and affection. Whereas at the start of our relationship, naturally, we would enjoy giving each other oral pleasure, I have to admit I no longer felt the urge to go down on Sam. The prospect of peeling down his boxers, or panties didn’t excite, especially as I had enjoyed thicker, harder dick. The love was there but the sexual dynamic had evolved or changed. Instead, I enjoyed guiding his head down beneath the sheets, between my legs when I felt the urge, something he never resisted. That was our intimacy. The only caveat being he would ask to wear his nightie, if he wasn’t already, before he would lap hungrily and happily on my cunt until I came over his face. Incidentally it was also typical that I would watch interracial porn as he did this, allowing me to climax in a world of my own, imagining I was in the arms or a strong alpha male, stretching and pounding me, as Sam licked me under the blanket. Equally we would regularly cuddle. There is something warm about being intimate outside of sex, putting my arms around Sam, ‘spooning’ him, feeling his body in a silky nightie, reaching my hand round and gently flicking his small swollen penis inside his knickers and tights, hearing him moan and press back against me in helpless aroused happiness.

But as I say, our time away from the scene allowed us to assess where we were and what we wanted going forward. Not surprising, with an absence of actually meets, Sam was frustrated from a cuckold’s point of view and he enjoyed conversations about what we might be prepared to do and how far we could take things. He seemed increasingly open to suggestions. Indeed, when I suggested I thought that we would ‘take it up a few notches’ he was visibly excited rather than apprehensive though I imagined when the time came he might get hit with the angst. So by taking it up a few notches I had suggested to him that I could start to play alone, he could get the same gratification sitting home, sissified and in chastity as he might in the corner of a room watching me. I suggested I could even meet someone for regular sex and it might or could lead to nights and even weekends away. I was pleasantly surprised to see that as I talked about it in bed one night he couldn’t resist putting his hand inside his panties and masterbating furiously as he lay beside me. More surprising was the fact that when he ejaculated into his panties, he didn’t even challenge any of my suggestions, instead he peeled his messed underwear off and cuddled into me, almost resigned to my ideas.

Now at this point I may add that had he point blank rejected these suggestions then I would have been happy to concede but his excitement spurred me on. I got that the humiliation of being left home alone and the cuckold angst and raw mix of emotions he might feel sitting alone not knowing what was happening would be arousingly intense for him. Equally, the excitement for me would be to play and develop a strong sexual relationship with another man, without having Sam in the corner of my eye, or indeed my mind. I imagined though that when I did think of him, home and aroused thinking of me, leaking from his chastity device with butterflies in the pit of his stomach, it would make everything I was doing more erotic. This could really be fun for both of us, it could really work.

So we find ourselves here, now. We no longer have sex, a mutual decision it has to be said. Sam no longer feels he can satisfy me in the way he knows I need and I am happy to have Sam as a life partner and others as sexual partners. I can’t wait to find out what’s around the corner…

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Cuckold Addiction; the can of worms

We have been asked recently to elaborate a little further beyond tales of our experiences and explain in more detail about the cuckold lifestyle. It’s a fair point as out there on the internet there is cuckold porn (hot, but not always helpful to genuine participants) and cuckold literature (again fascinating but not really the true nuts and bolts of the lifestyle we love). So hopefully over the next few publications we will cover a few things people have asked. The first topic that I feel important to cover is to know what you are getting into, because the reality is that it is hard to come back to a vanilla relationship once you begin. It’s difficult for one or both of you to return to a vanilla lifestyle which, isn’t a problem at all if you genuinely allow yourself to embrace the cuckold lifestyle, unless of course you are, at the core, a vanilla couple or individual. In other words, it really is like opening a can of worms.

So why is cuckolding, as a lifestyle, so damn addictive? Well, I guess it’s all to do with your motives for getting into it in the first place, as well as the experiences and the nature of those experiences you are likely to encounter. Don’t get me wrong, some couples dip their toe and never go back, if they try it just once, and the experience isn’t what either of them truly wanted. This does happen as for some fantasises are sometimes best kept as fantasies. All too often however at least one person in a relationship that tries cuckolding will find it difficult to fantasise and think about anything else, and equally if a couple explore it further they may find that vanilla sex will never be enough for them again.

So firstly the motives. I know there are a number of more scientific articles that argue genetic and biological reasons why cuckolding may appeal and, although I agree they have validity, I’d rather stick to more personal observations. Anecdotally and from personal experiences, motives are generally similar. Very simply there may be a sex drive that is almost impossible to quench or an urge to explore sexually that arouses someone into this lifestyle. Beyond, and indeed beneath this, there may also be physical, psychological and social or societal motivations that drive someone into cuckoldry. For example physically, a deep insecurity sexually on the part of a wouldbe cuckold might entice him into this lifestyle. It may not be something he would freely admit but deep down it may be undeniable and amongst the mix of emotions he is likely to feel, a sense of relief that he is no longer having to fill the role of an ‘alpha’ Male will appeal to him. For the would be hotwife, a pure desire to enjoy sexual experiences, free and unfettered from the restrictions of a typical monogamous relationship, with no sense of guilt, would equally appeal. It can be claustrophobic to feel you are to be with one person intimately and sexually for the rest of your days. Through a cuckold relationship the idea of enjoying other sexual partners would no longer have to remain solely in the realms of fantasy. That said, this does require a degree of self awareness which in turn requires the ability to analyse as objectively as possible which further requires an intellectual approach so as not to remain in denial.

The psychology of a cuckold relationship would also provide motivation to explore further. Those adrenaline junkies who bungee jump or sky dive no doubt feel the excitment, anticipation, anxiety and elevation of what they do and this heady mix of emotions explains why they come back for more and why they want to take further risks. It could be argued it is similar to that of a cuckold couple and, like a drug, there is a desire from all involved to get another, more intoxicating ‘fix’, and this makes it hard to return to a purely vanilla relationship. That’s not to say they would be playing on a daily basis, few have the time and lifestyle to facilitate this, but what is certain, anecdotally, is that they would be looking forward to the next opportunity to do so. And like any drug, to maintain the same level of ‘hit’, they would have to explore further and deeper each time.

Socially and societally as well, there is a real challenge to the concept of monogamy and ‘traditional’ relationships. Female empowerment, the decline of rigid religious beliefs (in many parts of the world), the internet and the era of information are some of the many factors that contribute to an evolving society that opens the door further to new and more varied lifestyles, including cuckold relationships. To explore these further would take too long and the reality is that these motivations and facilitating factors only part explain the addictiveness of the cuckold lifestyle.

The experiences and nature of typical cuckold experiences also tend to make the lifestyle so alluring. For many, a ‘dip of the toe’ tends to start things. A dare on a night out to flirt with another man, a coffee date with a prospective bull, some intense but fleeting foreplay with someone outside of your relationship, that had been talked about and agreed on before hand, are quite typical ways of testing the water. The thing is though, after the dust settles, each of these scenarios can leave more questions than answers and few will totally satisfy a curiosity for the lifestyle. Indeed these incremental steps will tend to encourage further dabbles in the lifestyle that can result in a cuckold couple fully immersing themselves in the lifestyle.

Now, at this point I really should add a disclaimer, in that this isn’t the case for all, as I say from our experience and anecdotal evidence, it does seem to be the case. However, it relies on honesty , respect and clear communication between all involved, something that isn’t always a guarantee. If these things are in place it is certainly valid however, to argue that a mix of motivations and external factors, along with the nature of experimentation in the cuckold scene tend to make it very hard to go back from… so be careful what you wish for x

My truth

This is Sam, following on from Samantha’s first blog I thought I would be fully honest on my reflections of this lifestyle. My situation has really evolved.

When we started I was driven by a desire to feel full arousal and this of course would come through the excitement and anxiety of Samantha meeting, flirting with and having sex with other men. It was exciting and would provoke me to lust for her and perform for her more. At times the jealousy and anxiety I felt, particularly when Samantha was getting close to Other men physically and emotionally, was almost too hard to take, but as soon as it subsided, I wanted it again. If I am honest I actually felt guilty, like sometimes I was encouraging things so much for my own arousal, imposing my will on her but when I asked her if she was sure that she wanted to do this, she always said yes.

After some time the truth became a little hard to handle. We would be having sex and she would admit that my girth wasn’t satisfying her, she would almost prefer masterbating to interracial porn and admitted she would fantasise about other men. It was in some ways a thrill but gradually eroded my self confidence, it became a self fulfilling prophecy as I questioned my own sexual ability and that in turn meant I would instigate sex less regularly and would a poor lover as I would be preoccupied by self doubt when I performed. This, I believe would lead to a gradual change, an evolution, in our relationship.

So now, instead of arousal at the situation, there is more acceptance on my part. Cuckolding invited us to be brutally honest with each other, removing inhibitions and allowing us to get to a point where we both were truly ourselves. We are a perfectly happy couple very much in love but the sexual side to our relationship has changed totally. That was an unintended consequence so serves as a warning to some entering this lifestyle but for me, as hard as it is from time to time, I know it is right. I cannot sexually satisfy my wife as she knows now what is available out there, beyond me, and it is so much more to her liking. My wife no longer finds me sexually stimulating, she is not aroused by an effeminate man who enjoys dressing as a woman and emasculating himself by shaving, applying make up and adopting feminine mannerisms. My wife no longer has the same sexual loyalty toward me, her view of chastity went from initial enjoyment at teasing me to realising it would serve as a preoccupation for me and she preferred me in it so she could better achieve her own ends. The biggest truth is however that deep down this is what I want. I like being a sissy cuckold in chastity. I thought at the start I would, but then began to think I may not, particularly when the jealousy and angst was so intense but once that was ‘normalised’ I realised I would only get the same enjoyment from being in this position. We will be happy together but through this dynamic.

Something to think about…

Hello. This is Samantha, and this is my first contribution to our blog. I am, by definition, a hotwife, though I don’t like putting labels on people let alone myself. I have read a lot on this lifestyle and it has me rather perplexed. Some feel that this lifestyle, where I take other men as lovers over my partner, as some form of liberation for women, as some way or raising my esteem, as some form of feminism. I disagree. It’s just fun. Good, healthy, consensual fun.

Now, I understand that some might think its a bit one sided, I have fun with other men at my husbands expense while he remains in chastity and has his masculinity removed through his appearance. However, this was something that we both decided on, something we both wanted. It appeals to his submissive tendencies, he actually feels more comfortable in this form of relationship and to be honest, I would rather he was able to be open about that to me, than hiding it away. I dont judge, not too much.

In my previous relationships, I have had a mix of experiences but I enjoy sex. Some women enjoy it more than others and again I don’t judge. My relationship is just that, mine. I am entitled to do as I wish and I am so glad I can be open and honest with my partner just as he can be for me. We have love and intimacy, but it suits us to be in a cuckold/hotwife relationship and it meets both our needs. It suits us for me to have other men as lovers. It removes any pressure or expectations from my partner, other than to be a loving, attentive life partner. It hasn’t saved our relationship however, it didn’t need saving.

Perhaps I am not as attracted to my partner when I see him shaven, feminised and in chastity but the love and bond and intimacy between us is more than I ever imagined. It is pure love. In terms of the intimacy it may seem contradictory that I have sexual relations with others and yet me and my partner are more intimate than ever. Yes, when I am with a lover the sexual chemistry can be electric and even if Sam is in the room I get lost In the excitement and on occasion I forget he is there. However, after I am done I want nothing more than to cuddle into Sam and transmit my happiness to him in a close bond because we have shared an intensity together. That is intimacy. And for him, the intimacy between us is constant because when he is in chastity and even when I am out with another man I know I am constantly in his thoughts. All of his fantasies involve me, all of his arousal and lust is for me. This intimacy is like nothing we have experienced and it brings us such acute happiness. Indeed, however this lifestyle evolves we will remain happy. I like things as they are now, I won’t stop.

On reflection

So after the disappointment of the previous week, it was time to take stock. The fact that Samantha’s date has not materialised into anything more significant was palpably frustrating for us both and we fell into a bit of a lull despite having a weekend in Manchester just around the corner. I was released from chastity, a mutual agreement, as there seemed little point in maintaining that situation whilst there was no prospect of play. I resorted to wearing male underwear too and we even had intercourse again.

But sex was different now. As we held each other in bed, gently caressing and kissing, the old flames initially flickered. As I entered her however, things began to feel very different than before. I lusted desperately for Samantha but as I thrust myself against her I was acutely aware of the relative silence between us. There was no moaning and groaning, nor were there any sighs of passion and pleasure for her. On my part a genuine realisation had emerged. I felt that I wasn’t able and couldn’t satisfy her. My self confidence, and with it my libido, had vanished and I was going through these emotions in my head whilst wrestling with my inadequacy. The weeks of chastity, feminisation and knowledge that she craved other men had clearly taken its toll. Eventually the silence was broken by Samantha who whispered to me ‘is that the best you can do!?’. Momentarily I began to pound harder and firmer but as I felt myself close to ejaculation I slowed again, giving in to the demons in my head. ‘I can’t really feel you’ she hissed, perhaps trying to tap into those cuckold and humiliation urges that has aroused me so much but instead, I found it hard to challenge her and grinding to a halt I said meekly, ‘I know. Sorry’. Grabbing my head she pushed me down towards her cunt instructing me to lick and ‘do the only thing you are good at’. I obliged with little resistance, eventually bringing her to orgasm with my fingers and tongue.

As I lay there beside her afterwards, I began to try to make sense of where we were. We were beyond cuckold and hotwife play, we had dabbled with single one off meets but we both now wanted more, perhaps even needed more. In terms of a cuckold lifestyle however, we seemed far from that, if not in terms of desire, certainly logistically. It was proving so hard to find the ideal bull. So what were we? It dawned on me that we were now in a cuckold relationship. A middle ground between what we had done and what we aspired for. In other words, although in no position yet to make this a lifestyle, it was clear that given any opportunity Samantha would happily chose another lover over me and it, if I was being honest, was what I wanted too for me and her. It was supported by her actions a few weeks back in Portugal when she slept with a guy she met when I was far from her at home. Indeed she was still in touch with him though distance would make it impossible for them to meet again. Manchester would provide further opportunities for us to play and it was now an unspoken desire for both of us that that would happen. After Manchester though, it was clear that should opportunity arise for Samantha to play with others then she certainly would and I would be happy for her to do so. This was now a cuckold relationship and it was our future. It felt that we could never go back to what we had.

Anti-climax

As a cuckold, and that was what I had become, I was experiencing the whole spectrum of emotions. Being relatively new to the situation, the feelings were still very raw and acute. Maybe that would always be the case or perhaps the intensity would eventually ease and that may explain why cuck couples over time might want to push the boundaries further. Like skydivers and extreme sport fanatics we were adrenaline junkies, constantly craving more of a ‘fix’. I certainly felt like a junkie when Samantha came into the room and told me ‘the date is off, he hasn’t been messaging’. My initial reaction was relief, I had been battling with the extremities of cuckold angst as I imagined her with him, close and intimate and with this news there suddenly came a great calm. A weight off my shoulders, I could eat again. But that feeling was short lived. By the next day I felt truly empty, devoid of any spark or drive, the junkie was going cold turkey! The last week had been psychologically and mentally exhausting, coupled with a lack of sleep and food and that may have contributed to my general apathy towards anything that next day. Deep down however I knew that because Samantha would not be meeting this guy I now felt deflated and genuinely down. I tried to remind myself of the stress, fear and sick feeling in the pit of my stomach from only a few days earlier but it did little to convince me that this turn of events was a good thing. It was the catch 22 of being a cuckold. There was such emotional and psychological torment when being cucked but, when not being a cuckold, there was something even worse; a total nothingness. I really felt I now needed to be a cuckold.

There wasn’t too long to wait however for things to look up. Within 24 hours Samantha announced that she was speaking again to her potential date and they had agreed to do coffee the following day. Surprisingly though, the angst wasn’t there initially. I was a little sceptical it would go ahead, and could tell Samantha’s excitement for him had waned a little, she was going in truth out of curiosity and it was to be literally a coffee.

By the following early evening I was laying on the bed, chatting with her and watching her get ready, for another man. The casual conversation, notably different to the previous week, meant the angst still hadn’t reared its head. It was only when I sat back and reminded myself that she was applying her make up carefully for another man, that I felt any twitch of arousal through my caged penis. As she collected her bag and keys, I calmly kissed her good bye, as if she were going to the shops and then the door shut and she was gone. I was alone, and she was off to meet another man. Truthfully neither of us had any great expectations, particularly because the guy had disappeared for a day or two and Samantha had a tendency to bore with things quickly and that could have been setting in with this meet. Even the chastity and feminine underwear I had on did little to overtly arouse me. Perhaps I had had my high but then any hopes and fears for the date were then suddenly dashed making it harder to rediscover that same excitement. I was struggling to get back the same intensity. It didn’t however stop a slight nervous ache in my belly. That was surely to be expected but I busied myself with stuff around the house, not thinking too much about where Samantha was. The minutes ticked by.

An hour passed and then a little longer. The butterflies In my stomach began to return as I realised this may have been more than a coffee. I felt the need to go to the bathroom, sitting staring at my phone with a dry throat. Eventually, nearly two hours later, I heard the click of the door. She had returned and I scanned her face for any reaction that might give away how the date had gone. There was very little. ‘It was fine’ she said, ‘we ended up talking about all sorts of shit’. Bizarrely this response sent a surging pang through me, the thought of her chatting informally and in a friendly manner with another man. It wasn’t sex but was it more? Or was it the kind of conversation that might be placing him in the ‘friend-zone’? I would find out later perhaps when we spoke more but irrespectively it was a start.

By the end of the evening I was feeling empty again. Samantha had been flirting with him and talking intimately, a little kissing, cuddling, fondling and touching but little more than that. She had spent most of the time processing things in her head, trying to determine whether this man was what she wanted. As it turned out she felt he was a little inexperienced and even a little immature sexually. He was cute as hell but just not ‘bull’ or ‘lover’ material. I suppose there would be ups and downs in this journey and this certainly felt like a ‘down’. The evening had served however to show me how much I wanted to be a cuckold and how much Samantha was keen to get the right kind of man. It was just a shame this wasn’t him. That said we had a visit to Manchester the following weekend so perhaps there would be an opportunity to kick start things again!

Date Night

It was bitter sweet. I had been working all day and checking my phone I saw Samantha had text me. ‘Do u fancy going out for dinner tonight.. date night?’ It gave me an excited buzz, it sounded great and yet a little odd considering how things had been over the last few days in relation to our cuckold journey. Perhaps she longed to be close to me after the hectic week we had had, perhaps she wanted a night off from all the kink. I immediately said I would love to and asked her why this sudden lovely idea? Minutes later she said text back, ‘yes, splitting the time!’. In other words this was her spending time with me so that at some point very soon she could spend time with another man. Was this a sign of things to come? Preplanned evenings whenever she could fit me in? Was I reading into this too much? I felt nauseous, nervous but excited. Being at work I had enough mundane stimuli to bring myself round quick enough and convince myself that this was not a bad thing. I was going to go out with her tonight. All to myself.

We ended up at a cheap Italian restaurant; bring your own bottle kinda thing. We chatted about all things vanilla, interesting and not. That was until she began to look beyond me, about 30 minutes in, like she had something else on her mind. I looked quizzically at her and then, forgoing any attempt to be subtle she dived into her bag to get her phone. Unapologetically she said ‘I just need to see if he has text’, turning all of her attention to her phone. Her face became animated, eyes sparkling, unable to resist smiling as she stared at her phone before her fingers suddenly began to type furiously. As I watched her from across the small table I felt a thousand miles away from her as she raised her phone at a deliberate angle to take a selfie for him. It felt like the colour was draining from my face as I sat there transfixed, my penis beginning to pulse again inside it’s chastity device. My date night with Samantha was being hijacked by this guy she had been chatting to over the past few days and my stomach churned looking at the sheer excitement in her eyes. For the remainder of our dinner together she was frequently messaging him, she couldn’t help herself. We chatted about other things intermittently but any discussion was inevitably interrupted by her returning to her phone. I ate very little of my meal, I couldn’t. In fact I hadn’t been eating much at all that week such was the angst I was experiencing.

We returned home and the texting continued. Sitting on opposite sofas, not deliberately but perhaps symbolically, I watched her immerse herself in her phone. It was as if I wasn’t even there and the hurt was tangible but so was the dampness seeping through the panties I was wearing as my penis weeped precum. Eventually she looked up and announced ‘I am going on a date Wednesday’. No doubt I looked a little taken aback and after a short pause I managed to croak ‘Ok’, before asking when. ‘As soon as you are home from work I will go’. I nodded with the deference of a caged cuckold, sitting in panties and a nightie, understanding then there was little I could do, or perhaps wanted to do, to change the situation.

‘I’m going upstairs to facetime him’ she then said, breaking the silence between us as she had been busy on her phone. Standing up with her phone in hand, I listened as she walked up the stairs and heard her greet him on the phone excitedly before her voice became inaudible as she shut the bedroom door. A long 10 minutes passed before she returned, smiling. She walked over to me and gently placing her hand inside her trousers she touched herself ever so briefly before bringing her hand back out and presenting me with a glistening finger. ‘This is what he did to me’ she smirked, ‘taste it’ and without a second thought I was sucking her wetness from her finger as my cock continued to strain and ooze. Looking down at me as I sat on the sofa she smiled then swiftly withdrew her finger, ordering me to get the wine from the kitchen. I hurried back to see she had removed her trousers and had taken my place on the sofa. Laying back she invited me to perform oral sex on her which I tended to immediately. I knelt down, between her legs and lowered my head, busying my tongue. In the midst of it though, perhaps desperate after over a week in chastity and the experiences and thoughts of the evening, as well as the dampness of her pussy, I asked if I could be released to masturbate too as we used to do when I went down on her. She suddenly closed her legs with force, almost trapping my face as I sat back up. Looking directly into my eyes with full sincerity, perhaps for the first time that evening she said sharply, ‘No. You shouldn’t cum until I have met him’. She paused then briefly before saying ‘and even if u did I will be meeting him anyway’. The stomach churn returned sharply, this really touched a nerve, of course I knew she was right. Where I to cum I would fall into an immediate bout of denial and shame and no doubt beg her to stop things in that moment. I had done it before in bed with her, my orgasm almost immediately stopping me from playing the role of a cuck during pillow talk, it was just too risky. I wouldn’t want to disappoint her I increasingly felt and if, as it seems, she was now adamant about going on a date with this guy, it would also make things further distressing for me. With that in mind, I nodded obediently and then lowered my head to finish eating her pussy to orgasm.

Torn

They say a week is a long time in politics, turns out it’s a long week in cuckoldry too. A week ago, we were engaging in pillow talk about cuck scenarios. A week later and Samantha had fucked a guy, I had been in chastity for a full week, and she has arranged a date with another guy hoping for it to develop into something regular as we looked to step deeper into a cuckold lifestyle.

Strangely, when faced with the reality of the situation, suddenly, initially, panic sets in. For the first time in months I wasn’t fantasising about being a sissy cuckold, instead I was envisaging being in bed with Samantha, naked and erect, kissing and touching her as I penetrate her, reasserting my masculinity. I was kicking back, against something that I set in motion, that seemed to be snowballing out of control, and yet something I couldn’t completely say ‘stop’ to. Perhaps it was the way she spent so long yesterday evening messaging her prospective date, perhaps it was the fact she said she wanted something regular, or it may have been the fact that as I tried to express my jealous, hesitation and worry, she argued why it would be a good thing, rather than stepping back as she may have done previously when she saw my concerns. She wanted it now. She seemed empowered, and why not. The preceding months had seen me gradually emasculated and saw her grow in confidence to the point where she felt comfortable enjoying herself alone with another man when she wished and telling me after.

To be honest the idea of Samantha having, and enjoying sex with other men was something I was increasingly comfortable with. I could accept she wanted more than me, I could accept she needed more sexually and I was now prepared to see another man replace me in that as I was sissified and caged. However, by broaching the subject of a regular bull it suddenly dawned on me that I could be usurped further in a social and emotional capacity and this had never fully registered before. As we chatted we both seemed to acknowledge a regular lover would bring increased intimacy between Samantha and him, as well as taking time with her away from me. They could in essence be dating and connecting on other levels beyond a purely sexual one and I sat there thinking about it, increasingly incapacitated by the raging cuckold angst inside me. Imagine her getting dressed up excitedly, leaving me at home on a Saturday evening to go out for dinner and a fun night with him? Imagine her leaving to go to stay at his overnight, leaving me to languish at home alone. Imagine her sitting in bed with him cuddling, chatting and joking. What if they wanted a weekend away as a couple? Him introducing her to his friends as his girl? Was I being selfish? It couldn’t just be exactly as I wanted. If I was to be chastised and feminised regularly as a cuckold, Samantha would need sex from elsewhere and I would have to accept that some form of relationship would form with her and her bull, at the expense of mine. If I didn’t then I wasn’t truly being a cuckold and allowing her to blossom as a hotwife. I was torn as despite this jealously, my penis was pulsing inside my chastity device. Perhaps over time this lifestyle could be something I could accept, I didn’t want to stop being a cuck. If we did it step by step things would evolve naturally and despite the concerns I was being drawn to this idea.

As we went to bed I cuddled into Samantha and she held me lovingly but with limited passion. ‘Do you want this?’ She asked and as much as my mind was racing I couldn’t say no. Instead, I replied ‘we both want this. You need a lover’. She cuddled me closer rubbing her hand up and down my nightie and said ‘so what do you need to do?’ With a pause and then a long sigh I said the only thing I could at that point, ‘I need to be a good cuckold’.

After the hen night

I have often wondered, perhaps worried or feared that one day Samantha might turn around and say, ‘let’s stop this lifestyle’. I have asked her enough times if she is still ok with this, as if I was the driving force and certainly in the beginning I thought that I was. I feared if she did want to stop it might be difficult for me, that I might lose this vehicle by which to play out fantasies and experience extreme psychological arousal that was addictive as hell! Then I thought, why would she want to stop? She enjoys it, it’s fun, it’s intimate in its own original way and she, and I, get what we want without it impinging on other aspects of our lives. Our relationship is strong enough to accommodate and enjoy a cuckold lifestyle. But that was almost irrelevant now, Samantha had stepped forward and by fucking a guy last night thousands of miles from me she had signalled that she was now leading this cuckold relationship of ours and that it was not an arrangement for my pleasure alone, she was finding it rewarding. Now, I certainly didn’t feel like a Dr Frankenstein but I was aware that I had instigated something I had to be pretty sure I wanted as things were in place for us to go to the next irreversible level, if we were not there already!

Scrolling through the text conversation we had after she woke that next morning, I was a mix of arousal and jealousy, excitement and inadequacy. I was picturing her and this guy walking drunkenly back from the bar in the idyllic quiet humidity of a night in Portugal, perhaps their hands brushed against one another and it instigated intimacy, perhaps they both took the Initiative on what would have been a giddy evening for them, like the excitement of a first date! I don’t quite know how it would have started but from her text messages I knew that they had played and she had loved it.

They kissed, and she began to feel his crotch and at that moment she had to have him, even if there had been an ounce of lingering doubt in her mind earlier that evening. His Cock was huge and she had to release if from his trousers. The lust that she and this random man felt between each other was so intense that they didn’t make it as far as a hotel room. The raw animal instincts and chemistry between them meant they had to have each other right then, right in the street, on a set of steps, no matter the risk of being seen. She lay on her back and he went down on her bringing her, working her clit with an expert tongue and his fingers, to a shuddering and soaking climax that had been three days in the making. With the taste of her still fresh on his lips he raised himself on top of her and pressed the tip of his fat, hard cock against her drenched cunt pushing it in and stretching her with painful ecstasy before fucking her hard as she had so longed for. He was grabbing her hair as she moaned and he thrust it deeper still inside her at her desperate and passionate request. At one point they had been seen and had to move from the steps where they had been making forceful love. As soon as they were out of view she dropped to her knees taking his Cock hungrily and instinctively into her mouth to get him hard again so he could penetrate her once more. As these events appeared vividly in my head, as I pieced together the arousing and honest messages she sent I looked down at my own small but hard cock pressing desperately and painfully against my chastity device. I could feel involuntary dampness as pre cum wept helplessly from the tip of my cocks tiny plastic prison as I saw Samantha making love in my minds eye.

She needed his Cock then and she wanted more now that she was home and was busy reliving last night again in her head. I mooted a suggestion that I could help her out later but she did not want mine and she was unrepentant in this stingingly honest appraisal of my sexual inadequacy. My suggestion was half hearted anyway because as I read the messages she had sent, I could feel her excitement for him, I could see the colour and sound as if I was there and I knew I couldn’t compete with him. Whereas in past times I may have felt the confident and virility to compete for my partners affections, as her sexual provider and lover, the past months of emasculating chastity and sissification had chipped away at my drive and I began to slip further back into the the only role I could see myself destined for; a loving, loyal but sexually redundant emasculated cuckold.

The hen night cont…

A strange thing happened as I waited to hear how Samantha’s last night in Portugal went. I got into bed and stuck my phone on charge but I bypassed any notion to slip into a nightie or hold ups as I had been doing the previous nights when she had been away. Perhaps I was trying to detach myself from things, perhaps I couldn’t face anymore anxiety that demeaning myself through sissification might bring. Either way my senses were alive and my brain alert, there was a snowball’s chance in hell of me sleeping quickly.

Samantha had been on a date before, a coffee date. But it was a different feeling tonight compared to the last time I sat home alone wondering what might be. This was, after all, the first time she was potentially playing alone. I mean, going for coffee was just that, this was different. She was in a warm (added horniness) different country, having had a few drinks (hornier still) and now sitting in a bar with a few lads, one of which had given her his number earlier in the day.

So, as any respectable cuckold would do in this situation, I messaged Samantha as asked ‘are you flirting then? X’. The next twenty three minutes were a real mix of emotion but eventually she replied saying ‘Yh I am, tx you later x’. In one simple text I had been sidelined, pushed aside, ignored, just as she did when playing with previous lovers. Well that could be the case, or alternatively she was in a bar sitting chatting to a few lads and couldn’t, and wouldn’t be reaching for her phone every two minutes to message someone. It would be rude of course, but feeling sidelined, emotionally cuckolded was my predominant thought.

Another forty minutes later and she tried to call, but it was difficult to hear. She was still at the bar and my phone was playing up so she said she would text. The messages came through intermittently. The fact she was tipsy made her messages a little incoherent but from what I gathered one of the fellas was a little clingy towards her but she didn’t elaborate. I was left in limbo again not knowing what was happening or what she was thinking, my cuckold angst now choosing to rise up and take me unawares as I lay restless in bed.

And then it struck me. If this was to work, a proper cuckold relationship, then this was what Samantha would have to to and what I would have to accept. We talked about this and I wanted it and therefore I would have to accept that when she was out, and potentially playing, I would have to leave her to enjoy it and not harass and angle for constant updates and pics. I would find out from her at some point and enjoy that moment of closeness with her but this was not all about me and I would have to learn to love this.

A further thirty minutes later she got back to me to say she was just hanging with the guys and that she didn’t like clingy guys anyway. It appeared my angst was for nothing but the time alone had brought me to a revelation on being a good cuckold and my personal journey in this lifestyle was moving and evolving.

I awoke suddenly, a chunk of light coming through the curtain had eventually landed on my eyelid waking me up. It was early morning, the mid summer sunrise was already brightening the room. After a moment I came round and glanced at my phone to see a message. It was Samantha, ‘I got my fuck!’ She had written. Almost immediately I could feel the rush of blood into my penis as the reality dawned that she had cuckolded me once again. My Cock strained uncontrollably in my chastity device that I had to jump out of bed and ‘walk off’ this intense but suppressed erection. My mind was racing. I had fallen into a sleep and in that time my partner Samantha, having been in a bar with a group of guys in Portugal had gone back to theirs presumably and let one of these men fuck her. As I lay back into bed staring at the message I knew it would be a few hours before i would find out any more detail but the cuckold angst had gone. There was no need or no point having not because it was already done and I had been cuckolded.