I’ll never forget the day a man first suggested cuckoldry to me. I was on the phone to an ex whilst getting ready to go out with my mates. He just casually asked what I was wearing to go out. He was insanely jealous all the time so I played down the little dress I’d laid out for the evening.
“You’ll get loads of attention wearing that”
His tone was strange. I was waiting for the inevitable nagging and complaining that usually accompanied me going out. I made light of it, saying I was going out to dance and drink with my mates, not seek attention from strangers.
“People will want to fuck you…”
To be honest it was irritating and I’d no idea at this point of the true intent behind the conversation. I wrapped the conversation up and went out. During the night, my phone went off a few times, each time it was him wanting to know who I was talking to. Eventually I stopped replying. Angry at his suffocating behaviour. When I got home I rang him. Furious and ready for a row I was shocked when he answered the phone breathless, clearly wanking.
He told me in an excited voice that all night he’d been picturing me dragging some random guy into a toilet and fucking him. Imagining my little dress being hitched up and me moaning while he slid inside me. I was stunned. This man was so possessive usually I couldn’t comprehend what he was saying.
I tentatively began to explore the idea with him. As the fantasy unfurled it was immediately clear to me, my boyfriend harboured cuckold desires. We talked about how it made him feel to think about me with someone else. Aroused, jealous, angry, humiliated.
He hated and loved the thought in equal measure. He confessed he’d been wanking himself unconscious thinking about me cheating on him every time I went out. I was stunned, and horny. We decided not to discount anything and just see what happened.
The Games Begin
It started out small. Dirty texting about teasing other men. He’d love me to tell him the tiniest details about how I could wind up my male friends and colleagues. He admitted he saved the message threads and read them whilst wanking. I was surprised to feel a lick of power from within. He was quite a dominant man and I enjoyed finding this back-door route to undoing this.
Gradually things began to escalate. It went from fantasy to the main body of our relationship. He wanted me to dress sluttier, he wanted me to be flirtier. I loved it. It felt like play acting. Seeing how far I could take it each time I went out. He wanted me to see if I could get to the point of someone thinking I would fuck them. It was so easy it was unreal.
Crossing The Line
I always knew inevitably he would want more. I knew the time would come that the line I’d drawn would be crossed and this would become a reality. One night after I’d texted him to tell him about the guy in the bar flirting with me his reply stunned me.
“Go suck him”
The three-word text sent chills all over me. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. Why wasn’t he jealous? I thought he loved me, why would he want me to suck someone else?
“are you sure that’s what you want?”
“Yes… if you loved me you’d do it”
And so, I did.
Far From Smooth Sailing
He asked me to send him pictures so I asked the guy I was with to snap a couple and sent them to him. He was beyond aroused, begging me to come see him afterwards to give him all the details. When I got to his place he was probably the most excited I’d ever seen him. He asked a million questions;
Was he big? Did I take him in my throat? Where did he cum? Did I want to fuck him?
I duly answered and then we had extremely filthy sex.
Excellent you may be thinking, I know I was. But this isn’t where the story ends. I went home and patted myself on the back for a job well done and a new string added to my kinky bow. Next morning I quickly realised all was not well when I awoke to a text calling me a slag. It seems after his hardon had evaporated his girlfriend sucking someone else wasn’t as sexy as he thought.
There ensued a huge row. Him calling me names. Me telling him he asked me to do it. I shouted at him not to expect me to indulge him in that way again. He clearly couldn’t cope with what was in his head. Things calmed down and life went back to normal.
About a month later he was out with his friends and rung me late at night, drunk, horny, in the mood to confess. He told me he still had the pictures. He admitted they made him feel sick but he couldn’t stop looking at them. How looking at me with someone else’s cock in my mouth gave him a sexual kick he couldn’t understand but now he’d opened the door he couldn’t shut it again.
We talked into the early hours, me reluctant to agree to something which could potentially destroy our relationship if he couldn’t handle it. The conclusion I came to wasn’t a happy one. He couldn’t live without that kind of stimulation. It was a compulsion and now I’d crossed the line he couldn’t get it out of his head.
Nothing happened for a while and then we were out together one night and he pointed at a bloke stood at the bar.
“He can’t stop looking at you”
I glanced over to where the guy stood. He looked up and caught me staring. Blushing I looked away quickly.
“he wants to fuck you”
I felt the heat in my cheeks spread through me. The familiar tingle between my thighs as I grew wet and hot.
“I think you should fuck him”
In For a Penny
I don’t know whether it was alcohol or genuine good old fashioned lust but I found myself riding the stranger’s cock by the end of the night. I remember texting him to tell him I would be absent whilst we fucked and how excited he was.
Making my way to his place afterwards, cautious, unsure how he would be. He was like an adoring puppy dog. As he fucked me he asked me to tell him how it felt to have another man inside me. He was disappointed I’d cleaned up. He wanted to see evidence, he wanted to see another man’s cum dripping out of me.
So, I became his hotwife. Technically we weren’t married but he loved the term and used it with great affection. He actively encouraged me to have sexual contact with other men and then goad and humiliate him during sex using the experience.
He wanted me to tell him they were better, he wanted me to say I wanted their cock more. He wanted me to say I came harder for them. At first I felt uncomfortable with this but it grew on me. I quickly found new, sadistic ways to cuckold him. Dialling his number and making him listen, silently wanking whilst I loudly encouraged my latest partner. Loving the fact, he could hear.
Hot wifing is often applied as a swinging term but that wasn’t what we were. It was a simple set up where I fucked who I want and he got off on it. He loved to clean me up after I’d been out to play. He would lovingly lick me clean whilst I humiliated him. Fingering myself and smearing it across his face.
At first it felt liberating and great, I enjoyed the freedom and our sex life was amazing. But I started to feel like it was more about what I could do for him than wanting to be with me. Cuckoldry wasn’t my kink it was his, and whilst I enjoyed the Domination of him I didn’t want this to be the epicentre of our sex life. I wanted other things too.
An Unhappy Ending
I came to understand his need for that kick somewhere between jealousy, shame and rage. The humiliation that made his cock spring to life. But the more extreme the altercations became the stronger his self-loathing afterwards. He simply couldn’t cope with what his mind desired. Every time I’d tell him it was the last time if his reaction wasn’t tempered. Yet he’d beg and I’d cave in.
Eventually he snapped, badly and violently, the consequences of his reaction? I refused to do it again. I sometimes wonder if that was the death knell for our relationship. He would say he was sorry, he’d beg and plead but I wasn’t interested. And gradually our relationship died.
I wouldn’t write off cuckolding as a sexual experience. Purely because I was in a relationship with someone who couldn’t handle his own desires. As a Domme I found it empowering. In the right circumstances, I imagine this could enhance a relationship greatly. However, both parties HAVE to be on board. Allowing a partner sexual freedom is an emotional minefield, but in the right relationship it can bring a lot of enjoyment to both partners.