Bunni’s Birthday Sex

Bunni’s Birthday Sex

Bunni & Wes in his hotel.

Sometimes a scenario falls into place unexpectedly that you couldn’t have planned for. It’s only after you look back that you realize how serendipitous the events actually were. Despite this month being Bunni’s first birthday as a hotwife, we didn’t have any hotwife shit lined up to celebrate. In fact, it had been about five weeks since she had been fucked by anyone but me and was beyond hungry to be filled by a lover. Having spent some time away, my wife logged back in to Tinder and started sorting through the thousands of messages that had accumulated. At the end of it all, she met Wes.

Wes is not “in the lifestyle” (at least not when they met), just a very respectful and sexy gentleman that was open-minded to our dynamic. Bunni developed instant chemistry with him. After chatting extensively for a day or two, they decided to meet. The date just so happened to be the evening before her birthday. As I watched her slip her bra and panties on, refine her makeup and dress up to go out, the cuckold feelings flooded my body again. Since it had been a while, they felt refreshingly vibrant although being familiar. However, my expectations were tempered. She told Wes that she doesn’t play on the first date and he understood. I was prepared for a low-key evening and excited to hear all about him when she got home.

I kissed Bunni goodbye at 7:00PM, put the kids down for bed and settled into our room to relax. Expecting that she would be gone for a handful of hours at most, I decided to dust off my PS4 for some mindless entertainment. There’s nothing like those first one or two hours of anticipation when your wife is out on a first date. While I was mostly focused on my game, in the back of my mind I was thinking about Bunni and waiting for a text to come in. At 9:30PM, it came. “Wow. He’s perfect.” My head swelled with a mixture of relief and excitement. Then, not uncommon with my wife, a surprise: “I wasn’t planning on doing anything tonight but I kinda want to go to his place…” Was I getting cucked tonight?

The beauty in making your own rules is that you can break them just as easily. Bunni’s chemistry with Wes was so strong at the table that she had to have him that night in his bed. Despite his insistence that they could say their goodbyes, she was adamant that she wanted him inside of her. “Going to his place,” she informed me. It was happening. I told her that I loved her and sent her a picture of my cage. She had locked it on me that morning and now it was tight as I swelled through the bars. There’s something incredibly sexy about a woman who decides to take what she’s lusting for.

The night had taken a turn. I reveled in the excitement. All of our activities thus far in the lifestyle had been planned out; this spontaneity was outside the norm for my wife and, as I would later learn, him as well. My phone went quiet for the next few hours. The clock struck 10, 11 and then midnight. It was officially her birthday. I sent her a happy birthday text but received no response back. A few minutes later I would find out why. As I hadn’t heard from her in a few hours and it was now the next day, I debated whether to call her before finally deciding too. Although I could see her location on my phone, I wanted to be sure that she was alright. Based on her later account, Wes’ cock was buried deep in her pussy when her phone rang. He handed it to her to answer and moved between her legs while she said hello to me. She was doing just fine, ringing in the first few minutes of her special day with hotwife sex.

She returned home after 1:00AM, exhausted from her long date and smiling from being well-loved and fucked. She was so charmed by him, explaining what a gentleman he was and how he doted upon her. I listened from our bed while she shared. Since she hadn’t prepared to play, the first thing they did was shower before moving to his bed. She moved to our bed and surprised me with some photos and video he had taken – something I was not expecting at all – and I grew hard while she recounted her birthday sex. Then Bunni spread her legs and welcomed me inside. We spoke quietly as I plunged into her. When she whispered “Give me what’s mine,” I exploded. Then, around 2:00AM, we collapsed.

Seconds

Wes was in town on business and leaving the following morning. They had connected at the tail end of his trip and the timing had worked out perfectly for them to meet. He had a late check-out at 2:00PM. Still beaming from their date the night before, she needed more of him. “I want to see him again,” she said. This was her special day; she didn’t have to ask me twice. Despite being tired, my wife readied herself for a second date and left around lunchtime. When she arrived at his hotel, he greeted her with flowers and a few small gifts. She was beyond tickled. They fucked in his room again until it was time to leave and then went out for a late lunch while I picked up the house in anticipation for the evening.

When my wife arrived home, she happily showed me the gifts that Wes got her and told me about her time. I gave her a gift of my own. We baked her favorite cake (pineapple upside-down) and the kids and I sang to her in bed. By all accounts it was standard birthday fare, except this year it started with a bang.

– Jack


Finding Balance

Finding Balance

When we first started talking about non-monogamy back in December of last year, the heat ramped up fast. Within two weeks, Bunni decided that it was something she wanted to try. Matching each other’s excitement, we dove in headfirst into an incredibly thrilling, hormone-fueled sexual adventure. After our first playdate in April, the intensity rose to a new level. We indulged in the incredible experiences that the lifestyle had to offer as often as we could. Then, after about two months, the activities that used to excite me didn’t feel as pleasurable anymore. I struggled to understand why. I liked these things! While we had gained an amazing new part of our lives, something happened that we didn’t anticipate. It took several weeks of thought and conversation to realize how unbalanced our life had become. I was unknowingly mourning the loss of so much; pretty much everything besides the lifestyle. The powerful forces of pleasure that we had unleashed had overwhelmed every other aspect of our life and knocked us completely off balance.

Simply put, compared to the newfound intensity in our bedroom, almost nothing else in life felt as appealing. Our hobbies fell by the wayside. We talked about little else than the lifestyle with each other. Most regrettably, our relationships with friends and family became de-prioritized. The intensity and amount of conversation we were having amongst each other took attention away from our children. Our sex life became extremely focused on other people and less and less time was devoted to focusing just on each other. What was meant to be a spice in our life had become the main course. Have you ever eaten a spoonful of straight cinnamon? I don’t recommend it.

Bunni and I took a step back to evaluate our life and unpack how we had arrived at the state we were in. Part of that was considering the specific context in which we decided to open our marriage. Having spent most of 2020 in our house, not seeing family and friends and not dating each other, we had grown exhausted as parents and slightly depressed as individuals. It was in this environment that we introduced one of the most intense dopamine rushes we had ever experienced. It was immediately incredible, so much so that we didn’t realize how much we became reliant on it for excitement and happiness in our lives. That is not a sustainable or healthy trajectory to be on and after a few months, we started to learn that through experience.


In response, we made a conscious decision to rebalance our life. The timing worked out with our child starting school. We recommitted to our home rhythms and routines. We started cooking again instead of ordering out every night. Bunni started dreaming again – about other things than just big dicks – which is one of the things I have always loved most about her. Although several major experiences happened during this time – our anniversary and New York – I took a break from writing and drastically reduced my time spent on social media. We stopped all of our 24-7 lifestyle dynamics and figured out how this new and exciting sexual adventure would actually fit in to our day-to-day reality. Overall, we identified all of our priorities and committed to put them in line. We didn’t realize how much we had lost us until we were back again.

We have both learned so much about ourselves and each other during this short time in the lifestyle. That will continue to be a lifelong process but especially in the beginning, the level of discovery is extremely high. Having spent less than a year in kink and even less in non-monogamy, we are very much still growing as people. Just as my wife is on a new and exciting journey of self-discovery, I am too. However, we are also growing together as a couple, which is something that we are very used to in all that we have been through in our twelve years together.

Being in the sexual lifestyle isn’t constant fun and games. The unbelievable heights of pleasure are enabled by the work that you have to do, individually and together. Thankfully, we’re in a new season of healthier balance again. We’ve needed it, not just because of the lifestyle but also because of the clusterfuck of last year. We never really “returned” from quarantine until now. We’re enjoying ourselves, our children, family, friends and hobbies again. We’re dreaming about our future and actively pursuing it. We’re rediscovering ourselves on this journey through life together. On top of all that, we also share in a secret, unbelievably naughty sexual lifestyle that we’re eager to dive back into. In the right amount, it provides the perfect amount of flavor to keep our life spicy.

– Jack


Cover photo by Patrick Fore on Unsplash.

The Embers

The Embers

Part I: The Spark

Part II: The Fire


Few taboos hit harder than witnessing someone else’s bride crumble underneath a superior lover. Hearing her beg for his cock to plunge harder and deeper, louder than her husband has ever heard, is a sexual drug like no other. Cuckold porn is so arousing, it’s easy to miss how much it babies you, how little it prompts you to think through the details of reality and how safe it is. Those realizations stay comfortably at arm’s length until that woman being truly fucked on another level is your wife and suddenly, winds of change are blowing down your door.

Bunni and I had cum together countless times over the years but I had just experienced the most intense orgasm of my life. A flurry of dizziness rushed into my head. I felt higher than I ever had before and the higher you are, the farther you can fall. We sat up next to each other and unwrapped our food, as we’ve done so many evenings before in front of the TV. Our evening was moving on to our comfortable and familiar routine but it felt anything but. While she ravenously dug into her taco salad, I picked at mine in silence. She chattered on happily reminiscing on her evening out, oblivious to the fact that the wind had blown my door clean off and was swirling so loudly in my ears, I couldn’t hear anything else. The fire that was raging in me moments before had been blown out with such intensity that even the embers were extinguished.

I have never seen my wife experience a drop after an orgasm. For me it has been a lifelong occurrence. First it was the shame of my sinful failures. Then it was the guilt and loneliness of a secret fantasy life kept hidden from the woman I loved. Now it was simply a fear, not of the unknown but the downright irrational. The experience of anxiety is having the most ridiculous, far-flung scenario feel imminent and then locking up as if it will pummel you at any moment. I breathed deeply, knowing full-well the moment would pass. The last thing I wanted to do was stomp on Bunni’s high but if there’s one thing I’m horrible at, it’s hiding my feelings. My silence was deafening and my wife paused everything, addressed me with compassion and forced me to talk. “Have you seriously never felt bad after an orgasm?” I pleaded. In that moment I was so jealous of her pure, unadulterated post-adultery afterglow. I felt like we had just danced a winning routine, only for me to fuck up the landing. She spoke. “Honey, I knew this was going to happen. I was waiting for it. Please, let’s talk.

I have not once feared that Bunni will leave me. Rather, my worries tend to revolve around relationship stresses and changes. My spiraling brain was certain that my wife had just experienced the best sex of her life and our intimacy was damaged forever. Surely she could never truly enjoy sex with me again after her bull had raised the bar so high? That is when Bunni held space for me, listened to my completely asinine worries and helped me understand just how wrong my simplistic view of her sex life with me was. Smiling, she assured me that this evening, she was more happy with me, herself and life than ever before. Her gratitude and love were felt as she reminded me that ten minutes prior, we had just had the most incredible sex of our marriage. I started to feel that post-anxiety embarrassment as I realized how right she was. Her voice pulled me back from the brink and my fear melted away. I may not have stuck the landing right away but we both found our footing together before bedtime.


The feelings that cuckolds experience can act like a pendulum, swinging wildly from one extreme to the next. One moment, your head is literally spinning with indescribable amounts of lust and pleasure until the other shoe drops and you feel like your world is spinning out of control. However, that moment of panic is just that – momentary – and before you know it, lustful cravings surface again stronger than ever. The morning after my first cuckolding, the embers of lust were already glowing hot and bright once again. I couldn’t wait for us to experience it all again and as I took the day to start processing what happened the night prior, it felt more right than ever.

Bunni’s embers had full-on ignited again. If she had been able to meet him before checkout in the morning, she would have. Instead, she restlessly, insatiably pined for her next fucking by him. We reminisced about all of our favorite details and in doing so, further realized the stark difference between him and I. Not only did he last far longer and pound much harder in positions that I couldn’t do, he inspired her to completely submit to his lead in their bed, something she never knew she would love so much. Bunni looked right into my eyes and told me that it was a new level of sex that she never knew she had been missing this whole time. She struggled to understand how it was so different from the sex she had experienced all her life. She felt confident, empowered, beautiful and sexy in a way that only this lifestyle could provide. Seeing how much he had impacted her – and how badly she wanted it again – fueled my cuckold desire to new heights.

Although sex was not on the table for us that evening, I couldn’t get the mental images of their sex out of my head. The chasm between her bull’s sexual ability and my own was a stabbing knife of masochism and Bunni’s craving for him twisted it. The contrast cut deeply, right down to the core of what turns me on as a cuckold, and sent me into a fit. I opened our sexting thread and spilled out all of my thoughts to her: how he gets a submissive side of her that I don’t, how deeply she lets herself go with him, how happy she looks with him in her mouth and how she calls me “cute” in comparison to him. Desperate to cum to the sights and sounds of them together, I hit send on the text, pulled down my shorts, pulled up their videos and spilled out all of myself to what they had done together.

As I broke my awkward silence in bed later that evening, my wife was baffled that I not only felt bad about myself but was afraid she felt less of me too. Together we realized how we entered this lifestyle from different contexts. She was starting with a clean slate and lots of healthy perspectives. I had baggage from years of secretly indulging in humiliation porn, independent from the care of a relationship. Although I always told myself it was all in good fun, perhaps subtle messages had taken root deeper than I realized. The reality of her bull’s superior prowess was now staring me in the face but instead of staying grounded in the reality of our marriage, I panicked. The idea that I was a worthless loser for being less adequate in our bed – and my wife thinking less of me for it – was simply a projection of my insecurity onto a situation that was actually the exact opposite. Bunni again called my attention to her eyes so she could explain just how much more she thought of me, not just for being okay with but encouraging her extramarital sex. I gave her the attention she commanded.

“Listen. I hold you in such high regard. When I think about how you are okay with and enjoy all of this, it’s amazing. I feel so loved that you prioritize my happiness by outsourcing the sexual abilities you lack to other guys. Every single one of my friends I have told about last night all asked me, ‘How’s Jack doing?’ I told them that he’s doing great and I’m so proud of him. They ask me if you really get off on all this, like watching me blow another guy, and the answer is yes! I can’t believe it. Yes, your sexual abilities physically are down here but your emotional abilities are way up in the stratosphere to even be able to do this. Being a cuck doesn’t make me think less of you; it makes me think more of you. You don’t ever have to worry about me thinking less of you and you shouldn’t think less of yourself either.”

Those few minutes were a mountaintop experience in our marriage and a breakthrough for me as a cuckold. It may sound counterintuitive that opening up your relationship brings you closer together but this is the reason why. It forces you to clumsily drudge up shit in that you could have otherwise ignored, right in front of your partner, only to receive their love and acceptance yet again. It creates opportunities to choose each other, support each other and learn about each other on a deeper level. It’s highly uncomfortable and scary at times but it’s intimacy. It was the matter-of-fact manner in which my wife acknowledged reality that helped my bruised ego and anxious brain heal. My sexual status had changed. I was no longer the best fucker in her life. If she could accept it so readily then I could too, and in that moment I embraced it. She had begun her own personal sexual journey, in which she would experience kinds of pleasure that I would never be able to give her. She would share firsts and discover new kinks with other lovers. Her preferences would restrict certain acts and dynamics from me. I saw it in her eyes; as my cuckoldress, she could not have been more eager for it all. However, I also heard it in her voice; as my cuckoldress, she could not have been more eager for us and all that lay ahead. As her cuckold, out of my own head and into the safety of her embrace once again, I felt eager too.


The thing about pendulums is that over time, and with no outside force applied, the arc of their swing becomes less and less. Eventually they become still, stable and centered. That is similar to how my experience has been thus far as a new cuckold. In the beginning, every little new experience felt like a gale force wind that threatened to knock me off my feet. It completely extinguished the embers that our fiery sex life left behind with a sharp, hissing plume of steam, leaving me no choice but to wait for them to glow again. Now that some time has passed and my wife and I continue to learn more about each other, those forces hit differently, with pure sexual power rather than any threat of destruction. They pummel my body and mind exactly how I want them to, stoking the flames of lust to inferno levels. Instead of bracing for it, I swing my arms wide open and wait for it to hit me. Finally, when it is time for the flames to die down, a steady, glowing bed of embers is left behind to keep me warm until our next encounter.

Bunni and I talked again the following evening. Since our decision to enter into a cuckold marriage, we’ve enjoyed simply conversing with each other in a way like never before. Once again we reminisced about her first fucking by her bull and eagerly anticipated when it could happen again. Bent over the bed, she cocked her head to one side so I could hear her speak while I gently held her hips in my grasp and exclaimed how incredible how her pussy felt. Our minds were in the same place. “It’s not all yours anymore,” she reminded me. “Think about how I felt for my bull the first time he slid inside me.” I assured her that had been top of mind from the very first tender thrust. “Did he fuck you like this?” She laughed. “Oh no, honey. He went so hard and so deep. This feels like less than half of how he filled me.” I took the dare to quicken my pace, yet Bunni was no less serene than the minute before. While she teased me to give her my tiny in a near-whisper, our mismatched encounter neared its crescendo. After reaching our climax together, we lay down side by side like we always do and settled in for pillow talk. This time we were both glowing.

– Jack


Cover photo by Clay Banks on Unsplash.

The Fire

The Fire

Continued from The Spark.


Our wedding night was about as perfect as two young, sheltered virgins could have asked for. We had been waiting for what felt like eternity because at the time, we though that eternity – heaven or hell – was on the line. It wasn’t for a lack of passion. I’ll never forget the first time I felt her incredible pillowy chest through her bra, or the time she slid my hands down her low back to her ass and said it was mine. After we exchanged our vows and rings, all bets were off. We faced the mirror in the bathroom of our resort suite and watched as we slid each other’s clothes off. We explored each other in the oversized tub. We fucked each other, fell asleep and then fucked again in the middle of the night. We had a tired-from-all-the-sex breakfast on the balcony. It was everything we had waited for.

I had waited for her to cuck me almost as long. While we were celebrating our first wedding anniversary, the “depraved” thoughts were racing through my mind. Our intimacy was already on the rocks and I was desperate to have a sexual wife, with or without me. Even an affair would have been more than nothing. While I was clearly far from a healthy and sustainable understanding of cuckold relationships, that season of secret, sinful fantasies was my starting point. Now, eight years and many seasons later, that woman I had dreamed of was standing in front of me. She had not merely accepted my desires; she wanted the man that would be inside her that evening as badly as he wanted Her.

I wanted this night to be perfect. While expectations are best left in check, there was still no denying the significance of the evening. “It’s just another date,” Bunni reassured herself as her nerves started to set in. I was stressed, feeling exhausted already due to little sleep, and didn’t want a single second that lay ahead to be numbed, let alone be too tired to appreciate my wife’s return. Thankfully the sheer eroticism of our impending cuckolding completely overpowered everything else. All day my body strained with anticipation, nerves and lust. I bought strawberries and champagne for our reconnection at the end of the day and for the lovers, a bottle of wine. The small act of selecting that bottle gave me that sinking feeling that cucks crave so much. When I returned home and found her lingerie and clothing options set aside in our closet, it hit again as I saw what he would be enjoying. She told me to be sure her lacy black panties were included in the laundry that afternoon. Washing my wife’s clothes for her bull to take off later instantly became a favorite chore.

As she finished readying herself in our bathroom, Bunni’s nerves faded and gave way to sheer enthusiasm as she put herself together for him. I enjoy watching the last few steps of her preparation, when her hair is curled and makeup is finished but her body is still naked. I knelt down and helped her into her panties, sliding them up her legs for her bull to pull down later. As she strapped on her lacy black bra and lifted her breasts into place, I felt like I was observing a moment in that hotel room, rewinded. Layer by layer – thong panties, straining bra, skin-tight bottoms, black blouse unbuttoned all the way down, dainty gold jewelry, strappy wedge shoes – she modeled every piece that would make his cock hard for her. It all helped me imagine what the reverse might look like, when Bunni and her lover finally pulled back from their kissing, ready to undress each other face to face.

I knelt again to zip up her shoes and she was ready to leave. My nerves had reached their peak. We sat on the edge of our bed, took each other in for a moment and commemorated with a selfie. It was my wife, with her smokey, warm eyes, bright smile, cascading coppery curled hair and tempting cleavage, and just me. She was stunning. Then, quickly as we had snapped the picture, I was walking her out to our car. We shared a final hug, kiss and reassurance before she drove away. Curiously, as soon as I went back inside and shut the door, my anxiety melted away. I felt like I was exactly where I belonged, ready to do my part so she could enjoy hers. I couldn’t wait to discover how her evening went and she is the best-qualified to tell that story.


As I drove away from our house, my body was suddenly flooded with nerves again…that tingling ache that radiates down your arms and back and puts a pit in your stomach. It was finally hitting me that I was about to do what we’d been talking about for months. This would be the second man to have my body in its entirety. Thoughts raced in my mind as I drove, so much I hardly even remember the commute. “What will he be wearing? Will he kiss me right away? Will we dive right in or take time to relax with our wine first? Will the room be lit or dark? I did my best to keep my mind open and not set expectations for how the night would play out.

He had already checked into the room earlier in the day so when I pulled in, he arrived at the exact same time. We walked in together and as I passed the front desk two thoughts entered my mind: “They know. They absolutely know why I’m here, dressed up and walking in with a sexy black gentleman” and also, “They have no fucking clue what’s about to go down. This is so hot”. We turned down the hallway and my nerves set in again. We walked down the corridor for what felt like a mile. He unlocked the door and led me into the simple and modern room, cool and quiet. I stared at the freshly made bed, knowing it wouldn’t look like that for long. We set our things down, he turned to me, cupped my face in his hands and gave me a slow, passionate kiss. My body trembled underneath him and I tried to catch my breath.

He pulled back and asked me if I was nervous to which I answered honestly, “Yes.” He asked me why and I said, “Because you are the first man I will be with besides my husband.” His sweet response poured from his mouth like fresh honey. He brought me peace, put my heart at ease, and I knew this was why I chose him tonight. Realizing our room was not stocked with fresh glasses (per COVID standards), he briefly left to find some. I suddenly became very aware that I had a bit of dry skin on my lower lip. I began fidgeting and became hyper-focused on it, nervous that he would notice. Of all things to be focused on, that was my biggest concern. He returned to the room, opened the wine and poured it into our paper coffee to-go cups, which were all that the hotel could offer. 

We lay down across the bed, still fully clothed, as we sipped our wine and shared in light conversation. I can’t even remember what it was about because I was still so nervous. My low-cut blouse revealed my cleavage and he reached across and lightly traced my neckline with his fingertip. After talking and laughing together for a few more minutes, we stood up, kissed and undressed each other. He pulled my tight pants down; I giggled that he’d have to peel them off. He gently pushed me backwards and onto the bed. He crawled his body over me, ran his hands up my arms and pinned my wrists to the bed above my head. He kissed me deeply with the weight of his whole body and I knew in that moment that this was exactly what I had been waiting for.

The rest of the evening is a blur. Our bodies were tangled up. Our breathing, labored. Our hearts pounded. I couldn’t help but close my eyes in disbelief of what was happening. I felt like I was in a dream. Our pace rose and fell as he showed me what I truly deserved. He took his time to learn my every curve, and what makes me tick.“This is what you wanted, right?” He pressed with all his weight and the tip of his dick hit the deepest part of my body. For the very first time, I experienced a glorious pain that I have now come to crave. Our eyes locked and the only thing I could let out of my mouth was a pleading gasp.

We kept on, taking breaks when needed and exploring each others bodies with our lips. Though when things picked up again I found myself lost in my thoughts and at a standstill in pleasure. My body’s sensitivity was at its max and I feared I would have trouble reaching a climax. He must have picked up on this because before I knew it, his fingers slid inside me and he began massaging and thrusting with his hand. It felt incredible. Through my panting I brought my eyes up to his and with a very stoic face he said “You’re going to cum now, okay?” I replied, “Okay.” And within seconds, my body gave in to his command and I experienced my first squirting orgasm, a plateau of ultimate pleasure. I was so stunned, not only that he made me cum on command, but that he knew my body so well that he was confident in what he was about to do. All I could do was laugh out of sheer joy and disbelief. “Wow…wow”.

Our time came to an end after he made sure I was fully pleased. His orgasm was like one I had never experienced before; thrusting, growling and clutching to my body harder than ever. I instantly became addicted. I had never felt more confident, beautiful, sexy, well-loved, desired and vulnerable in my entire life. It was as we were settling into the covers for pillow talk that I realized this man had just orchestrated this entire experience from start to finish, our bodies the instruments playing a melody only him and I would ever hear. No matter who I end up meeting in this lifestyle, that song is unique to us and one I very much look forward to playing again.

Walking back down that same long hall I felt like a new woman; a true hotwife, thinking about my husband and how he will love all the naughty things I did.


While the experience she just shared was happening, I sat in tension in our bedroom, not knowing what my wife was doing (or what was being done to her) at any given moment. My imagination raced to fill in answers to all the questions I had. A few hours in, her bull texted me a clue. My heart skipped when I saw my wife’s face in the preview. I opened my phone and immediately his point of view began to play. Bunni lay between his legs on the bed, lavishing his thick black dick with tender licks, kissing and sucking, all while looking right into the camera. She looked happier than ever. Then his voice instructed her to say hello to me. My wife took his cock out of her mouth just long enough to greet me. “Hi baby.” That twenty-second video turned into twenty minutes of bliss, alone in our bed. I was just attempting to refocus elsewhere for fear of getting too close when he texted me again. He was buried deep in her pussy, then the camera panned to her face – that look of glorious pain that I didn’t recognize. The video played, her breasts flailed as he filled her more forcefully and her groans begged for relief and pleaded for more all at once. It was only a tiny sliver of what she was experiencing in that room without me but it was all I had in that moment and I was hooked.

Bunni’s text that she was returning home sounded short. I worried, wondering how was she feeling now that it was all over? I was taken aback when she called me and the first words exchanged were about…food. She was starving. It was only after we talked about taco salad that she reassured me, she was more than fine. She was overjoyed. I heaved a sigh of relief. We did it. She did it. I couldn’t wait for her to get home. I was desperate for more answers. Seconds after I heard our front door open, Bunni was peeking into our bedroom through the cracked door. Our eyes met and we couldn’t help but smile. I still didn’t know any details but all I needed to do was look at her: she was beaming. Neither of us had words; instead we embraced each other and kissed. Then she gently pushed me to sit on the edge of the bed and knelt down to take me in her hand. “You’re so little compared to him, honey. So tiny!” Having just spent two hours with her bull’s huge black cock, she exclaimed at the contrast of my little pink Tiny in her fist.

I was transfixed as Bunni held me in her hand, looked into my eyes and told me every detail she could remember. She couldn’t hold back any longer about how he made her squirt, three times, a revelation that left me stunned. I learned about the glorious pain of his huge dick, hurting new places inside her pussy in the best way. She described how safe she felt with him when he pinned her to the bed and loved him treating her so differently than me. She wanted his strong hands over her mouth, on her throat and in her hair as moved her body seamlessly from one position to the next. She took as much of his cock into her mouth as possible, and then gagged on a little more. It all contrasted starkly to the sex that we have. She felt me straining to be inside her and grinned at how much her escapades were stoking my desire. I climbed on top, easily slipped inside and thrust gently; it was all that I could manage. Her loose, dripping wet sex was perfect for my sensitivity and my Tiny, perfect for her post-fuck tenderness. I still didn’t last. My face buried into her shoulder while she whispered in my ear how roughly he fucked her, like I never had before, and how animalistic his orgasm was. My wife pleaded, “Cum in my sloppy pussy, baby,” and all of the day’s tension and lust released from me. I felt a flood loose into her with a force that shocked me; my climax had never lingered for so long. My body fell paralyzed with pleasure and we collapsed together on our bed.

Our first cuckolding was more than we ever expected. I had taken her bull’s text the night before with a grain of salt, as much as I wanted it to be true. It came across hyperbolic but in the end he made it come true. He did fuck my wife better than I ever had before and her pussy was forever changed. She experienced a sexual potential she never knew existed and discovered an appetite that I would never be able to satiate. In the afterglow of our reconnection, we basked in the significance of the moment. The paradigm-shifting pleasure we had both just experienced felt like our wedding night all over again. It was everything we had waited for and it was just about as perfect.

– Jack & Bunni


Continued in The Embers.

Cover photo by Chirag Nayak on Unsplash.

The Spark

The Spark

The excitement, potential and mystery of a first date is unique. If Bunni is ready to make time on our calendar to leave her family for the evening and meet someone, it means that not only does she find him physically stimulating but mentally intriguing as well. They will have already invested time in establishing a connection through questions, photos, flirting and even some sexting. However no amount of virtual communication can replace the chemistry that happens when in proximity to another person. Attraction is much more complex than a photo or a text can encompass. It’s the way their eye contact holds. It’s how the unique frequency of his voice reverberates in her pulse. It’s a conversation with gravitational weight that pulls you to lean in. Scents that you may not even be conscious of light up your head with a desire to go further and be closer. It’s a spark that under the right conditions can ignite so much more.

Every time I walk my wife out to her car, kiss her as she gets in and watch her drive away to meet someone new, the anticipation sets in for her to get home so I can find out if she felt that spark. My phone stays close by with the screen and volume up. I don’t sit and stare at it all evening but if an update comes in, I want time to heart it or respond before Bunni’s phone goes back in her purse. When an hour or two (or three) passes by in silence, I take that as a sign that the two of them are so engrossed in each other that there’s simply no opportunity to check in with me. That’s exactly the kind of chemistry that I want for my wife when she’s out on a date. For those few hours, I don’t want her to feel like just my wife but become so enchanted with him that she allows herself to let go and enjoy her sexuality as a cuckoldress.

Our clock struck ten, then eleven, then midnight, and I felt myself becoming restless with exhaustion and eagerness. It was only after the first moments of the new morning had passed that my wife relieved my nerves and said she was finally on her way home. I turned down our room so it was perfectly ready for when she came in – space clean, sheets open, lights dimmed – and settled into bed to wait for her. She came in at 12:30 – five hours after she had left – and I felt like a puppy eager to greet their owner at the door. The look on Bunni’s face was everything I needed to hear. She was giddy and beaming from ear to ear as she launched into telling me all about their evening together. Hearing about their laughs and flirting and interests and sexual chemistry made my cuck heart swell. Their passion was so strong by the end of the evening that they re-parked in a dark spot of the lot. He held my bride in his arms, reassuring her how much she would be cared for and how much her husband wanted this. He was right. Between passionate kisses their sparks started to fly and their mouths wandered: his, to her breast and hers, to his cock.

In that moment of revelation, I needed to kiss her. As soon as we started making out with each other, a cocktail of strange and familiar sensations flooded my head. The sweetness of her hyper-aroused breath mixed with the undeniable taste of his dick on her lips sent me into a frenzy of lust for her. The post-date cuckoldress kiss is one of the most intensely erotic feelings I’ve ever experienced. We savored each other and the hormones surging through our bodies and that was all the reconnection our exhausted selves could handle. At 1:30AM we both collapsed next to each other, happy.

The next evening, Bunni sent me the best kind of sext you can receive as a cuck. We opened it while snuggled in bed together and for the first time I got to see and hear her having sex with someone else: nineteen seconds of my wife giving him her mouth. His pants were unbuttoned, freeing his cock – long, thick and velvety chocolate brown – to contrast starkly against her face. His girth filled her manicured, ringed fingers as she steadied him into her mouth. I watched the lips that kiss me goodnight every evening sliding up, down, and up again, culminating in a tender, smacking kiss on the tip of his penis. However what made me harder than anything was the way she closed her eyes while she moaned through tender flicks of her tongue on his shaft, as his groans in the background echoed. I saw a contentment, reverence and lust in her that I had never witnessed between my legs in our nine years of marriage. “It’s just different with him,” she grinned.

The next morning Bunni made a confession. “I would have fucked him that night if we had a room.” Her desire for him had been stoked and it would not be sated until she saw him again. He reciprocated; “The next time I see you, it needs to be in a hotel room. I want all of you.” With that, they put my first full cuckolding on the calendar on the soonest possible date, a full week away. “At least you have your husband,” he quipped on one of their many calls with each other. “Is he an okay substitute for my cock?” Her voice lacked a shred of hesitation: “No.” I shot her a look of mock protest. “Oh honey, we both know you have a Tiny. As hard as it tries, it can only get so big.” In fact, so much so that she saw fit to restrict her pussy from me until her evening with him.

On the night before, Bunni was out on a date and I was home alone drinking wine on a video call with some friends. Around 10:00 PM, the group teased me about the time. I hadn’t heard from my wife in hours, which I was feeling good about. Then I saw a text come in on my phone and my eyes darted to read it. It wasn’t Bunni; the preview showed his name instead. I excused myself into the kitchen to refill my wine glass and in the quiet of our dark house, audibly heard my heart thumping in my chest while I read his message to me. As I settled back into bed, our group pressed me to read it. I required more wine and with my pulse still at a breakneck pace and breath shortened, I choked out the message:

This time tomorrow your wife will be with me. Enjoying my touch, my kisses and being sluttier with me than she has ever been with you. She’ll be enjoying my thick black cock and her pussy will never be the same again. I’ll be sure to send her back to you happier than you’ve ever made her in bed. Be sure to thank me on Saturday.

– Jack


Continued in The Fire.

Cover photo by Jamie Street on Unsplash.

A Seat At The Table

A Seat At The Table

My path into cuckolding began similar to many: through pornography. It was a much simpler time; I didn’t understand cucking as a viable relationship or lifestyle, let alone know of any resources or community. I simply imagined my wife being intimate with another man instead of me and it made me cum harder than anything else before. Eventually I longed for more substance and searched out real people on as many websites and message boards I could find like cuckoldmarriage.info, ourhotwives.org and blacktowhite.net. One day while browsing B2W I saw a comment by a user promoting his upcoming show about cuckolding. I couldn’t look it up fast enough. The podcast was called Keys and Anklets.

Hearing real conversations changed everything for me. The incredible dynamic that seemed merely the stuff of online fantasy felt more tangible than ever. My headphones became my safe place to secretly live vicariously a life I was sure I’d never have. Each passing episode brought the passion and personality of the lifestyle community clearer into focus and my affection for it quickly grew. Since it was a secret from my wife it was bittersweet but still I followed the magnetic pull I felt onto social media, wanting to be as part of it as I could. If I couldn’t live it, I was going to cheer for it. I felt very much on the outside, yet closer than ever to something I was passionate about. The Twitter feed became another safe space for me to listen, learn and work on myself. After my wife accidentally found out about my kinks and the world didn’t end, I felt safe enough to work harder on accepting myself, kinks and all. Other guys like me were already doing it and that made me want to try too. I decided to carve out yet another safe space for myself and published a blog post, identifying myself as a cuck. It was foremost for me but I still felt incredibly self-conscious. Those four letters felt inseparable from my sexuality but I wasn’t living it. I was afraid that the “legitimate” people living the life I wanted would dismiss me as just another wannabe or a try-hard. I already felt like one.

The subject of inclusivity is very personal for me because it changed my marriage. I did not feel like a few paragraphs about my cuckold feelings warranted notice from anyone but I was shocked at the welcome I received by lifestyle people who had never met me. Instead of being made to feel like an imposter I was congratulated and encouraged to keep going, keep writing and keep working. I continued to engage and friendships developed. Had I not received that investment, or worse, I may have stopped writing or logged off completely. I would not have had the words and relationships to share with my wife and we may never have broken out of the rut we were in and found this incredible life. That is why I feel so strongly that every single person, practicing and aspiring, deserves to receive respect, support and inclusion. There are so many people out there that want to live this lifestyle and I want as many of them to find happiness as possible.

A Cuck By Any Other Name

What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.

Shakespeare

Perhaps you are one of those people. When you first enter the cuck-positive space, it can be overwhelming. There are lots of different relationship dynamics, subgenres and terminologies to learn about. It can take a minute to wrap your mind around what all the different labels mean and find where you fit in. Arguably the most unusual word is cuckold. I didn’t always love how it sounded and the negative stigmas that come with it can weigh heavily. When Bunni started actually dating, that weight felt near unbearable for a short season. I became insecure about the title and whether it was right for me. In the end my wife and I figured out what worked for us and now I can’t imagine feeling any differently than I do now: I enjoy being called a cuck and embrace all that the word means to me.

Cuckold is an odd, centuries-old word. Classically, it refers to a husband whose wife is being unfaithful to him and their otherwise monogamous marriage. Culturally, her infidelity heaped shame and derision upon him. However, when you hear someone say cuckold in a kink, fetish, lifestyle or otherwise sex-positive context, they are referring to something entirely different. Although the activities of cucking your partner are reminiscent of the “cheating wife” scenario, the foundations could not be more distinct. Whereas the classical term was marked by deception, betrayal and pain, cuckolding as a sex act demands the same prerequisites of any other: informed, enthusiastic and ongoing consent; open communication between partners and mutual sexual enjoyment for all parties involved. In the sexual lifestyle, cuckolding is an ethical non-monogamous activity and relationship.

Everybody Cucks

Cuckolding is many things to many people. What your version will look like depends solely on you and your partner. Encouraging your partner to own their sexuality with other people and getting off on that is where it all starts. From there, limitless possibilities exist. People in all different kinds of relationships, of all genders and sexual orientations enjoy cuckolding; if you have a regular partner – married, engaged, committed or casual – they can cuck you and you can cuck them. Unpartnered cucks and cuckoldresses are valid and those who are in vanilla relationships are too. There is a seat for you at the table where a full spread of delicacies – BDSM, kink, compersion, angst – lay ready to sample as you uncover your unique tastes. You may enforce your cuck’s monogamy, permit them other partners or even pimp them out. Cucks may enjoy experiencing their partner’s sexual freedom in all kinds of creative ways. Cuckolding may be your play scene, your weekend activity or your lifestyle. It may be your only dynamic or one of many. The cuckold lifestyle is like a gemstone; it has many facets, viewable from many angles, but its value remains unchanged no matter how you look at it.

Everyone comes to the table for the same reasons: to push the boundaries of sexual pleasure and enjoy the company of like-minded people. Your place card should invite discussion rather than judgment because no one word will ever be able to encapsulate the complexity of your sexuality. Just like sex, variety is what keeps things interesting; you will never find two singles or couples exactly the same. Enjoy listening to all different points of view and keep what feels right. Receive the support of curious and open-minded friends and then pay that hospitality forward in your own way. Non-monogamy is marginalized enough and a community is only as valuable as the support it provides. Choose to create the kind of environment you’d want to live in. Choose curiosity over judgement. Choose to make others feel welcome, not excluded. Choose to invest in others because you never know just how much a small gesture could help change someone’s life.

– Jack


Special thanks to Nookie Notes of Dating Kinky for her inclusive cuckolding education, which inspired portions of this post.

Cover Photo: Annie Spratt via Unsplash.

Becoming Her Cuck

Becoming Her Cuck

There has always been a power dynamic in our marriage. During our vanilla years, it may have been unspoken, non-sexual and at times, unnoticed, but it has always been there. Although she did not recognize it as sexual, being deferent to my wife has always been an expression of my sexually submissive tendencies. The roles have always come very naturally for us and have followed the general pattern of my wife desiring something and most often getting it because it makes both of us happy. When something catches her eye, it’s a window into the passion that she brings to life. She drops everything, learns all there is to know about it and her patience buckles under the intensity of her excitement. She comes to me with bright eyes and says, “Honey, I’ve been thinking…” I never know what is going to be on the other side of those words. A complete room remodel? A garden? What she wants for dinner? Whatever it is, I know that it’s likely to be an adventure.

I’m not sure why I expected cuckolding to be any different. This time I was on the other side of, “Honey, I’ve been thinking…” I don’t remember what I thought would result from sharing my heart with her but at the time, I expected that my wife was the last kind of person who would ever consider sex outside our marriage, let alone want it, let alone love it. I expected her to have hesitations, hang-ups or fears. That’s not to say we haven’t talked and worked and cried and laughed plenty about opening our marriage but the reality is that on December 21st, seven days after our first discussion about cuckolding, my wife told me that she wanted it and just like anything else in our relationship, she didn’t look back. I forever have a photographic memory of that moment; I was standing in our bedroom doorway and she, sitting in the corner chair. From then on the trajectory of our relationship changed from me fantasizing about being her cuck to us beginning the process of her patiently, passionately and lovingly making me her cuck. As she alluded to in her interview with Venus, there were some hurdles that lay ahead but much to my surprise, they were my own.

I Might Kiss Him

Exactly one month from that decisive moment in our bedroom, practically to the minute, Bunni was in our master bathroom getting ready for her second date, not only with this particular guy but ever as a married woman. Their first meeting a few days prior had gone excellent and my wife was feeling like going further with him. During the course of our conversation about the night ahead she asked “How would you feel if we kissed tonight?” and my heart entered my throat. Understand that my first real bout with cuckold anxiety was on this topic. It was two days before Christmas and we were in that very early whirlwind phase of hormones, fantasies and porn flying back and forth between each other. That afternoon there was one particular video that she reacted most strongly to and it contained no sucking or fucking, just slow, passionate kissing.

Later that evening Bunni left to go shopping. Yes, our fantasizing had been hot but so far it had been all play and no discussion. The old, engrained ways of thinking about sex were still programmed into my brain. With my wife gone, the temperature dropped and me left all alone with nothing but my thoughts. They surfaced and I started to have a true anxiety spiral and started irrationally projecting assumptions. Why did she react so strongly to that video? Isn’t kissing making love? I thought that she was just wanting sex? The room was now flying. I felt just as nauseas as if it actually was. I sat down in that corner chair, unable to move. My entire mind and body was frozen with worry and each minute that ticked by felt like an hour. Eventually I was able to walk around, do some chores and recite affirmations that I knew to be true. I talked myself down. Once she finally returned, I shared with her what had happened and once we got into bed together, we talked all about kissing. I learned that for her, it’s a sexual act and something that she needs to feel an erotic connection with someone. It doesn’t mean she’s in love with them.

My wife framing kissing as a sex act challenged my previously-held assumptions about things that only couples in love do but the work wasn’t over. Maybe kissing was okay in the bedroom as part of sex but what about out on a date? Isn’t that about affection and not sex? Is he a fuck buddy, a bull or a boyfriend? We hadn’t talked much yet about the differences between the three and what she was looking for so when my wife asked me in the master bathroom how I felt if she kissed her date that evening, it fell right on the edge of my comfort zone. That space is a sweet spot where if you can just push past a little bit of newness anxiety, you can reap a great reward. I had my nerves but I also couldn’t deny the excitement inside about my wife possibly kissing her date. We talked more about my feelings while she finished up her makeup and got dressed and when she left that evening, both of us were comfortable with the possibility.

An hour passed, then two, and finally my phone lit up. Bunni had sent me a picture of them snuggled next to each other. She looked really happy and he did too. Fifteen minutes later, another text came in. “He’s so gorgeous. I might kiss him.” Now my heart was in my throat again but this time in the best way. Now I was held in suspense and I couldn’t wait for her to get home and find out what happened. Sooner than I expected (I wasn’t complaining) she let me know that she was on her way back. It caught me somewhat off guard but not as much as what followed. “I have some things to share. So fucking excited to see you.” It’s fair to say I was more than excited for her to get home too but what things could she be talking about?

Finding My Place

I have struggled with anxiety all my life. The most frustrating part is that knowing how irrational my thoughts are doesn’t necessarily make managing them any easier. After we started getting serious about her cucking me, anxiety episodes started to crop up. For example, on Christmas Eve while we were driving around looking at lights, my brain was spiraling. We had not yet moved past the fantasizing and porn to talk about how cuckolding would practically play out for us. In that moment I felt out of control, conjuring up visions of a caged and sexless marriage against my will. This culminated in a late-night conversation where I voiced extreme insecurity about the cuckold label. Maybe I wanted to be considered a stag or perhaps just a husband with no label at all. Not that there’s anything wrong with those but in that moment they were wrong for me. I was just making unfounded and wild projections that called for grounded conversation. We talked about the obvious reality that Bunni is never going to do anything that I’m not comfortable with because she loves me. I knew that. I wished that was enough. I even felt like she should be angry at me for having so little faith and trust to cause me to worry about something so silly but she wasn’t. She understands how anxiety works and always shows me patience and love when I need it. That safe space that Bunni holds for me is what enables me to fully embrace my role as her cuck husband without fear.

We’ve had our bumps in the road together; most significant, her very first match on her first app. He was drop-dead gorgeous and super interested in her. Shortly after starting to chat, he asked her if she ever got to go out solo and if they could grab a drink. I bristled, as this was completely outside my expectations of being acknowledged as a couple. This guy is asking my wife out alone and he doesn’t even know who I am yet? Does he think we’re in an open relationship? I raised a red flag. My unmet expectations triggered me. Bunni thought I was off-base and offered an alternative perspective. I failed to truly listen. It sounded like she was defending him which triggered me further. My wife is giving a strange, hot guy the benefit of the doubt over her husband’s feelings? There was no safe space, only conflict. Lots of words were being said but neither one of us was hearing the other. To make matters worse, it was all while Bunni was rushing to get ready and out the door in time to get some last-minute holiday shopping done. It wasn’t a good circumstance for a thoughtful conversation on a sensitive topic.

My wife going out shopping ended up being the space we both needed. I was deep in thought, replaying from the beginning what had happened, when she reached out. I assured her that I was okay, the kids were down, our room was set and I was ready to truly listen and talk more when she got home. We tried again, this time in a calm environment with quiet voices and eye contact. I got to admit how I fucked up by reacting emotionally based on an expectation that we hadn’t actually talked about yet. How were we going to approach finding guys, first contact, texting, sexting and meeting? Where did I fit into the picture or did I at all? None of that had been discussed, yet I had an expectation of how things would happen in my head and then let my emotions control me when life went another way. In that reactive moment I failed to remember everything about Bunni, how she was on my side and that of course I could trust her to always advocate for me, for us. I forgot to slow down and listen. My head was filled with so much noise I couldn’t have even if I wanted to.

After I apologized I got to learn more about Bunni. She helped me realize that a gorgeous guy matching with her, chatting with her and wanting her was a really, really big deal. She was so excited but her enjoyment of that moment was cut short when my emotional reaction trampled all over it. That realization crushed me. She explained that of course she cared about my feelings. She wasn’t “taking his side” but simply felt that I was in the wrong. Maybe he’s just a social guy and prefers to meet rather than text. She reminded me he had no idea what our expectations were and getting a drink was not going to hurt anyone, if I really trusted her. She was in the right and I was the one unreasonably upset. This time we were truly hearing each other. I apologized again for the mistakes I made and she showed me grace. We then had the overdue dating conversation and came to the agreement that it made the most sense for her to connect and meet people solo. She was going to be the one playing and as such, her connection was what ultimately mattered. That didn’t mean there was no place for me in the process. There is. She just needed to help me find it.

Leaving Safe Harbor

I used to feel that it was the act of my wife having sex that would make me a cuck, as if the exact moment his penis entered her would flip some sort of switch and automatically ship my cuck ID to arrive 7-10 business days later. Now that feels incredibly reductive and penis-centric. Yes, her first extramarital fucking will be a significant step for us, especially given how we were raised, but it will not have been the first one. Becoming my wife’s cuck feels much more like a process where in tiny increments, my wife and I have to unlearn, re-learn, discard and reframe so much of how we had always understood love, sex and how the two interact with each other. The journey has plenty of excitement, passion and mountaintop experiences but it also requires braving the unknown. That’s normal. By choosing to embark, we were leaving a kind of relationship that had always felt very safe and leaving safety is scary, no matter what goodness awaits on the other side. Feeling nervous doesn’t have to mean something is wrong. It doesn’t have to mean someone did something wrong. It doesn’t have to mean you aren’t cut out for the journey. It could just mean you’re human. I am absolutely addicted to my wife kissing other men now (and she is too). It doesn’t have to be in the bedroom. She can share the pleasure of kissing with anyone, anywhere, and cuckoldress wife kisses after a date are the best fucking thing ever. The point is with enough time and communication, I learned to extend the trust we had already built to the new facets of my wife, in the new facets of our relationship. Insecurity is just a description of how you feel in the moment; it doesn’t need to be a prescription for who you are.

Give Me Your Hand

“I have some things to share. So fucking excited to see you.” I wondered what could Bunni meant by that? It must be that she kissed him. My wife kissed another man. I let the thought sink in while I turned down our room and awaited her arrival. I heard the front door open and the sound of her boots on our hardwood floor growing louder as she approached our bedroom door. It opened and our eyes met. She couldn’t help but grin and I got up to kiss her. We kissed, a lot. I still had no idea what she had done on her date. I waited in bed while she got undressed so we could talk and when she joined me, we kissed some more before she started in from the beginning. I grew hard in her hand while she told me all about the sexual chemistry between them at dinner. How he guided her hand over his bulge under the table. She was stroking me now, telling me how they left the restaurant and got into his truck. The moment the door closed, they were eating each other’s faces off. They kissed! She loved his hands on her throat and in her hair, something we had never done together before. My pulse was already thumping when she got to the part where her hand went to his pants and took out his cock.

These were the things. His dick in her hand. Her tit in his mouth. Him telling her to switch to her wedding hand. My wife jerking off her date and getting his cum on her sweater sleeve and the ring I married her with. She looked into my eyes as she told me what she did and with each word I fell deeper in love with her. I felt more turned on than I ever had in my life but I also felt proud of her. I recognized what a significant thing she had just done. My thinking quickly turned back to my little head. A switch had been flipped in my brain that never had before and in that moment, I was desperate to be inside her. She lay back and while my hips worked into her over and over, we talked again about what she had done to him with her lips, her hands, that hand. Her wedding ring had been rubbed by his cock and dirtied with his cum. A small thing but for me, everything. “Give me your hand” I asked. “The one you jerked him off with.” Something inside me needed to worship it. She raised her fingers to my face and I lavished every inch of them with my lips, all the while the events of an hour ago and what had last touched them raced through my mind as we took each other in.

That evening was much more than just the most erotic moment we had yet shared together. It was a discussion of feelings, an invitation to press boundaries and a challenge of comfort. It was my wife taking her sexuality into her own hands. In the course of one date she went further physically than either one of us expected, discovered something new sexually with someone else and did it all without asking for permission. It was a major milestone in her new sexual identity and witnessing that bloom changed something in me too. The way her revelations made me feel and the love we made afterward confirmed for me beyond any doubt that I loved being a cuck, her cuck. The next morning, we spent a few hours out on a lunch and shopping date together and I’ll never forget that time. I spent all of it quietly reveling in her sexual power on display the night before. She felt new. Our relationship felt new. It all felt right. There were no more hesitations. She had free reign to live her sex life how she wanted, doing whatever she wanted with whoever she wanted, and I loved it that way. It truly felt like she had stepped into the role of cuckoldress and I had become her cuck.

– Jack


The Size Matter

The Size Matter

“Oh baby, you feel so big.” Oh, the number of times I heard this from my wife Bunni over our years of lovemaking. It was sweet and affirming and made me feel loved, even though I knew it wasn’t even close to true. Although she genuinely meant it, she had no frame of reference to make such a statement. We met and married young and on our wedding night, we were each other’s first and only lovers. For almost all of our marriage, Bunni had never watched porn or played with a dildo either. I on the other hand had watched more than enough porn to understand what a big dick actually looked like and measured myself enough to find where I fit in on the spectrum. So in those moments of well-intentioned but ultimately misguided dick praise from my wife, my brain automatically transliterated her phrasing to, “Oh baby, you feel so good.” I knew that’s what she meant to say and as much as I loved that, I always wanted more for her.

Does size really matter? It depends on who you ask. Some say that the male ego tends to obsess more over penis size and yet the countless accounts from women that refuse to settle for less are compelling. I use Spring 2013 as a frame of reference for first discovering cuckolding and ever since that time, I knew that there was so much more than me that Bunni could experience. My curiosity was piqued: would she be one of those for whom it would make a neutral or even negative difference or was there an entire new plane of her pleasure that was waiting to be experienced?

Her “Guy Friend”

Bunni and I are in a brand-new cuckold marriage, where she is encouraged to discover and explore her deepest sexual desires and my limits are always respected and yet lovingly challenged. The most significant of those gentle growth opportunities for me has been my wife discovering that her needs as a cuckoldress include more than just sex. The emotional aspect of cuckolding is an emphasis in both of our lifestyle fantasies and yet, until her search for the right guy comes to fruition, we are left to explore the purely physical with the use of a relatively new toy: her dildo.

Just a few months ago, Bunni playing with another guy was not even a question for us but I had suggested the idea of a dildo several times over the years. She was always apprehensive, especially about the realistic ones, because to her it felt too much like bringing another person into our sex life (we both look back on that and laugh now). Two years ago, unrelated to those discussions, I bought myself a big, realistic dildo when I started to discover my bisexual side. When she found it one morning while I was at work and rightfully freaked out, I took the rest of the day off to talk. That season was the catalyst for us going to couple’s therapy and the origin story behind the toy that we so love playing with now.

When our lifestyle discussions began and I knew that we were a much different couple than we were back then, I dug the dildo back out of storage. She was surprised that I still had it and, unsure of how to read her reaction, I offered to throw it away right then. After all, I felt like it had a lot of negative history and energy behind it. Instead she said “Maybe don’t…” and ended up being very glad that she did. The toy that was once the center of some of our most strange and difficult months as a couple found redemption as a favorite piece in the most exciting time of our sex life. It became her “guy friend” that would end up helping her discover those new levels of untapped pleasure as well as new ways to relate to me, her husband.

The very night that we had our first serious discussion about cuckolding, she wanted to play with it. I will never forget that evening. It was not just immensely hot but the answer to a years-long question of how Bunni’s pussy would respond to a larger cock and I received my answer loud and clear. Adorably, she was doubtful it was much larger than I as she insisted she had always seen me that way. It was only after I insisted that she hold it up and compare to me that it sunk in. She had me lay down next to her and slowly tease, rub, tap and slide, building the anticipation to levels ready to burst. Then, the moment of truth. The ecstasy was undeniably written in her face and my wife became more vocal in bed than I had ever heard. How good it felt. How big it was. How much it was stretching and filling her up. She turned and asked me how it felt to be on the outside watching her get fucked and between fixating on the shaft sliding in and out of her and the enraptured look on her face, I couldn’t express to her enough how in love with the moment I was. After her orgasm had screamed in my ear and she let me in next, we bantered about how loose she felt and I didn’t make it much longer.

That was the beginning of a significant and exciting shift in our sex life. Suddenly, my wife found something she loved in bed and felt completely free to ask for. It didn’t matter if I was in the middle of doing her – if she wanted it, she’d ask me to stop and go get it. She started asking for it every single time and I felt myself looking forward to her preferring it over me just as much as she looked forward to it sliding in for that first time. Reality rapidly set in: bigger was better for Bunni. She explained to me that the deep, full feeling sent sensations throughout her entire body that she had never felt with me and that it really did feel better. Best of all, she didn’t hesitate or apologize for it. Her frankness dared me to fall into deeper states of arousal and it worked. She was discovering her pleasure and speaking her truth as an emerging hotwife and it made me melt.

Talk Tiny To Me

Bunni and I never used to talk dirty in bed. Maybe it’s because we had nothing dirty to talk about. However, after opening up discussion about cuckolding and exploring a bigger dick, something happened in our bedroom: teasing, filthy and occasionally downright mean words started to spill out of my sweet wife’s mouth like it was nothing. I never could have asked for the natural ways in which her gentle humiliation flowed out of her lips and into my ears. I have always craved small penis humiliation from my Love. I can’t explain why I enjoy it so much except to say that it makes me feel warm, accepted, loved, goaded, teased and aroused when I receive it. Being that Bunni had always been hesitant to step into a dominant role, I thought that I’d have to ask her for what I want and help guide her how to most excite me. I didn’t even have time to ask. Bunni started giving it to me all on her own and it was better than I could have ever requested because it was completely natural.

I often journal memorable sexual experiences between Bunni and I because I don’t want to forget them. I especially make a point to write down specific things that she says to me. What I love most about her words is that although they are simple and completely free, each one feels like a gift that I cherish and never want to let go. These days I find myself reminiscing on our encounters more often than watching porn. It could be something as simple as when she said “That was the best I’ve ever been fucked” or “You’ve never made me feel like that” after a session with her dildo. I long for the moments during sex when she told me to stop trying to last and just cum so she could play with her dildo, or how I felt like just a little tickle in her pussy, or that one night when she said that for some reason she couldn’t really feel me at all. My gentle wife’s creativity stunned me when she said “You’re just the warm-up for me, baby. Will you warm my pussy up for him?” and hearing “You’re not allowed in my pussy tonight. It only wants big dick” was downright thrilling. Still, for me nothing beats the pillow-talk after we are both spent. The “scene” is over and as we snuggle next to each other, fingers running over skin, we both start to come back to reality.

It is that moment of authenticity that sends me into the stratosphere, when she looks me lovingly in the eyes and says that she was missing out on so much. In me not being able to give her that deep, full feeling that sends waves of sensation through her whole body, I’m not enough for her. She needs more. Not only that, she loves that she wants more than me, she likes hearing those words come from her mouth and she adores that they make her husband fall deeper in love with her. At first, I assumed that Bunni was embellishing, even slightly, for the sake of my excitement but not so. One night, in a moment of complete honestly, Bunni said that she had never embellished anything she said to me: “I just say what’s true.” She really did feel bored that one time and almost reached for her phone. In comparison to what she had felt, I really did feel less.

There’s something about the authenticity of her comments that turns up the heat for me and perhaps helped me get to the root of why I enjoy teasing and even humiliation in a loving context: it can be a safe and pleasurable way to explore our shortcomings, vulnerabilities and insecurities, and be accepted for them. Porn is great but as with other topics like chastity and cuckolding, the experience pales in comparison to being in bed with the one you love. When Bunni teases me, she does it with love because she knows what reaction it’s going to get. When I’m teased by her, I experience greater feelings of intimacy and admiration for her, but I also celebrate her speaking her truth. It doesn’t matter that I have a smaller penis; it still provides pleasure to us both in a unique way.

I Measure Up Just Fine

I’ve never actually felt insecure about my size. For most of my marriage that was probably because I didn’t have the occasion: after all, Bunni didn’t watch porn or play with toys and so was fully satisfied if not mistakenly impressed with me. Over the many strictly vanilla years, we figured out what worked for us in bed. We both get the best of both worlds in that while we can and do still enjoy vanilla sex that is fulfilling for us both, she gets to explore sex that feels even better than me and brings excitement to us both as well.

Exploring cuckolding has helped me appreciate my penis size even more though. I genuinely love my penis the way it is and often feel that if I had the option to make it bigger, I really wouldn’t. I feel like it matches my sexual personality and enhances the enjoyment of our play. If I was bigger, I feel that small penis humiliation or being compared to her dildo or eventual boyfriend wouldn’t be as enjoyable. I love when she calls it cute. I enjoy being teased. I like feeling that Bunni and I share a little secret about me together. I’d have it no other way.

These nights, when Bunni tells me that I feel so good while we’re fucking, I really do believe her. I know that she’s being honest because now she does have some frame of reference. I’m perfectly happy with me feeling good and bigger feeling better because we both love it that way.

Beyond Fulfillment

Beyond Fulfillment

Last month, my Wife and I began seriously talking about what it would look like for us to enter the lifestyle. For the first time in our relationship, no topic was off limits: hotwifing, cuckolding, ethical non-monogamy, our traditional upbringing and vanilla marriage, jealousy, comparison, contrast, the different kinds of love…the list went on and on. We likely logged two or three full days worth of talking in that first month. It was just that – talking – until it wasn’t. We (she) decided that it was something we wanted to pursue and as soon as we both realized that the only thing standing in our way was us, it felt real. If the weeks leading up to that realization were lighter fluid, that moment was a match. Our relationship exploded into a new realm that we had never experience before.

One evening, my Wife brought up that despite all of our time in relationship together, it took us thinking about other people for Her to experience this sexual awakening and our marriage to be invigorated. What did that mean? What did that mean about Her? About me? This led to us discussing a topic we never felt free to before: fulfillment. Did She just want more than me or did She need more? On the flip side, did I need this dynamic to feel satisfied with our sex life or could I ever be content with it being just the two of us (is the song playing in your head now?).

We pressed further into these uncomfortable questions and reminisced on our relationship, particularly the past two years when the “awful vanilla sex” (her words, not mine) that defined most of our marriage started to turn into something more in 2019. That was the year that we decided to invest in couple’s therapy. It was some of the best time and money we’ve ever spent. It helped us address some issues that had been weighing on us for a while and neither person wanted to touch. I think that was the first time, seven years into our marriage, that we tackled something serious together as a team, actually resolved it and came out better on the other side. That experience was the beginning of a new chapter of opening up to each other and making our relationship what we we wanted it to be. We broke through the repression and dysfunction of our youth and discovered our true sexual potential with one another. It was an experience that we never knew existed. Our bedroom ceased being a place of routine maintenance and transformed into a truly freeing, intimate, explorative play environment.

We came to the conclusion that wanting to push that exploration even beyond our bedroom didn’t have to mean anything about either of us, except for perhaps the obvious: variety is spicy. For us it’s about adding more flavors to the ones we already enjoy. Sure, there are tons that we can taste ourselves but who doesn’t love something new? Her texting and sexting someone else? A new flavor. Her going out, dating and sharing her adventures with me? Delicious. Making a friend and playing all together? Yes please. Cleaning up? Definitely a flavor. We want to dive in, start tasting and find the ones we really love.

Some Body To Love

One of the first real things we did after deciding that we wanted to dip our toes into the non-monogamous water was sign up for a dating site. After just a few days She ended up matching with a guy that is, to put it mildly, fucking gorgeous. He is unfair amounts of beautiful from head to toe. This presented an opportunity for us to once again talk about flavors as one evening, my Wife said the most direct and brave thing I have ever heard Her say to me. We were talking about the difference between his body and mine and why She enjoys them both in different ways. In the course of Her explanation, She said that if we were in a lineup on Tinder, She would obviously pick his body over mine.

I was equal parts proud of her courage and stunned by the implications of her comment. Did I need to start working out more? I’m not going to lie, that was my first instinct: to compete. My ego was bruised. She assured me that She didn’t want me to change. This triggered me even more! She wouldn’t want me to look hot like this guy if I could? Does She not see me that way anymore? In my anxious spiral, I totally misinterpreted Her comment as saying that She didn’t want me to work on myself or be more sexy for Her. In a moment of love, what She was actually saying was that I didn’t need to do that. The way She loves my body is wrapped up in so much more complexity than simply what it looks like. It’s our history. It’s our relationship. It fulfills so many more needs for Her than just “looking hot” or sex. Although that is not what my ego wanted to hear, it’s what my heart needed.

She confronted me that I wouldn’t pick her body out of a lineup either. I still actively disagree with my Wife on this point. Her body is my type. I love ogling, touching, worshipping and playing with it and I wouldn’t change a thing about it. I have never wanted more. However, I have to admit that She is the only woman I’ve ever been with. The way I enjoy her body is inseparable from my experience with Her as my Wife and the one I love. I’d probably enjoy other flavors too if I cared to try them but I don’t. However, She does want to try them and that’s okay. It’s not a reflection on me. I had to think for a second if it’s okay that She wants to try other flavors of people and I don’t, but it is. Why would us both getting what we want ever be wrong?

The Gift

While my Wife and I were pressing deeper into the uncomfortable questions of fulfillment in our marriage, I brought up a point that one of my friends, who is poly, shared with me. Eli Finkel, a social psychology professor at Northwestern University, studied married couples and found that those who were able to outsource certain needs were much more happy and satisfied in their relationships. In other words, one person was never meant to completely satisfy their spouse in everything. Of course that doesn’t mean that every relationship needs to be open. You can outsource to family and friends. You can outsource romance without sex or sex without romance. The possibilities are as endless as you want them to be.

Initially, neither of us felt like we had anything to outsource. We felt very satisfied with each other within the limits of what we felt was possible. However, we were now expanding the boundaries of what we ever thought possible and I thought of at least one thing (besides a huge cock) that I could never provide for my Wife: the excitement of a new relationship. It was never going to happen, by virtue of the thing that committed relationships aspire to: time. The more successful I am as her husband, the less I’m able to provide that incredible new relationship energy (NRE) for Her. We’ve been together for 11 years and married for 9. We’re in a much different phase of life than we were 11 years ago when we first met – better, but different. Those first weeks and months of butterflies have long since flown away. What if She wanted to experience those feelings again, while remaining grounded in the love and safety of her husband? What if She could?

That evening as we deconstructed all things fulfillment, my Wife looked at me and said the thing that inspired me to write this blog to begin with. She said that in a way, I am the one ultimately providing that fulfillment for Her, by being brave enough to outsource it to someone else. It is a gift that I give Her that deepens Her love, respect and passion for me. That is the beauty of the cuckold lifestyle to Her and I could not agree more wholeheartedly. At this point in our journey, I had no doubts that She already had a healthy understanding of what we were getting ourselves into but in that moment, She had surpassed my expectations by giving me a perspective on the lifestyle that I had either forgotten about or never heard before. After all the time of my sharing with Her, She was now teaching me about what cuckolding meant to Her. That moment was everything for me.

It is that moment and many other small ones leading up to it that make me feel safe to take Her hand and step side by side into something more. I feel so fortunate that all those years ago, I married a woman who would have more deep love and care for me than I could have ever imagined back then, yet such courage now to ask for even more and be willing to take it. Neither one of us knew what was lying in wait for our marriage and in this moment, we don’t know what lies past today. What we do know is the things we’ve heard and read of experiences beyond satisfaction and that is what we want to venture towards together.

Hindsight 2020

Hindsight 2020

Throughout 2020 I have thought back many times to New Year’s Eve 2019. We were at a party (remember those?) at our friend’s house. I vividly remember that party because, being a shy person who wrestles with social anxiety, a truly good party experience is rare for me. This night, however, was perfect. I ate, drank, laughed and conversed the hours away with zero anxiety and afterwards thought to myself, “I like parties! I want to go to more in 2020.” I often think back to that night and how naively hopeful we all were about the coming year, completely oblivious to what it would become. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from the past twelve (or more specifically, nine) months though, it’s to take every victory you can get, no matter how small. Despite the many challenges of 2020, I did experience some victories too, both big and small, in the area of life that means most to me: my marriage.

January

My Wife and I were in a relatively good place coming into last year. We were finally starting to grow closer together thanks to distancing ourselves from our repressive and dysfunctional upbringings. Also, normalize therapy! Our love was becoming more free and honest. Still, I held some secrets close that I felt I could never be told. I had tried several times throughout the course of our relationship, for example, to explain to her my desires to submit to her in bed and beyond, to no avail. I had tried to foster excitement, exploration and play between us, with no success, and both of us feeling left hopeless and stuck. Although my wife and I were becoming more passionate with each other, I had given up hope that our dynamic would ever be anything more than vanilla. No disrespect to vanilla. It’s a fine, very familiar flavor, but it also makes an ideal base for some fun and exciting toppings.

I have always seen potential for more in us though. We have a joke that she “just likes to be pleased” and I have always enjoyed doing just that. She likes to take; I like to give. However, there was no common understanding between us on that interaction. She was not experiencing it in the way that I was. Back in January, we had a conversation about it. I assured Her that I enjoyed the way She liked to take because I enjoyed giving. Just acknowledging the way our relationship was structured felt good and gave me hope that someday She might see just how much it meant to me.

May

In May, a chance encounter happened that, looking back, changed the trajectory of our relationship by changing the way that I saw my Wife, from someone I had to be afraid to confide in to someone I could trust. I wrote a blog post about that event a few weeks ago. Publishing that piece ended up being a catalyst in and of itself. Running away from my Wife and then being welcomed back to Her proved something to me. She didn’t want me to run from Her and She wouldn’t run away from me if I would only open up. She wanted me to.

She has since told me that after that conversation, She didn’t give much more thought to the topic. Meanwhile, though, I was processing. That event had inspired me to start accepting myself for who I am. Not yet ready to be vulnerable with my Wife, I turned to social media and a blog to start expressing my sexuality in a free and honest way for the first time. I didn’t have any expectation of what would come from that, except a hope that I would become a more confident and self-adjusted person in that area of my life. I ended up finding something so much more. Community would not only prove invaluable in my personal growth and mental health but I would also come to owe my newfound relationship with my Wife to it.

October

It was that community that enabled me to bring up chastity. I wrote a blog post back in mid-October all about what I loved about it. The secret is I wrote that post to help myself organize my thoughts in preparation to raise the topic to my Wife. Looking back, that conversation would have likely failed. That blog post is all about me and what I want. Thankfully, by then I knew better than to rely solely on myself; I’ve just fucked up way too many times before. I was fortunate enough to have friends to ask for help and help they did. We talked about how to focus on her and not just myself. They recommended a book (Locked in Love). I bought it, binged it and sat down with my Wife on the night of October 22nd to talk about it. That weekend was one of the most exciting and romantic in our relationship so far. For the first time, we were equally eager about something sexual, together. She told me it was the first thing I had ever brought up that didn’t make Her feel uncomfortable. To the contrary, it made sense. For so long our sexual dynamic had been dysfunctional, laden with guilt, pressure and pain. Chastity turned our broken dynamic on its head and brought us healing. We were finally finding our groove.

On October 25th, the night that we had planned to first lock me, we had a very frank conversation in our kitchen. While out running errands, She had listened to a podcast excerpt on chastity (Scarlett’s!) but ended up listening a little bit further. When She got home, we sat down at the kitchen table and over dinner, with the children still running around the house, the questions starting pouring out about the lifestyle. How did these women do it? Would I actually be up for it if She wanted to? She even confessed to having thought about other people before. It was a landmark conversation in our relationship and then…it was over. I wanted to go back on so many things she had said that night, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to press. I didn’t want to take focus away from our new, exciting chastity dynamic.

I’m glad I didn’t. I gave chastity the space it needed to start changing our marriage. She had never felt capable of giving me the dominance I craved but chastity helped her discover that dominance is what She wanted to make it. Before my very eyes, my (formerly) vanilla Wife took to her newfound pussy power with surprising ease. She became my gentle Goddess and I, the submissive to Her that I always wanted to be. The compulsive desire for traditional sex that I used to have started to melt away. I realized that all that time I wasn’t craving sex but intimacy. Meanwhile, She felt the space and freedom to come into her own sexuality for the first time in Her life. Our marriage was starting to transform and although I still held some secrets close to my chest, I felt so content in our relationship. I naively couldn’t foresee it getting any better.

December

I am still a little bit in shock at what has happened to us in the past month. Our marriage was already in the best place it had ever been by far, yet my blog and my Twitter represented my most vulnerable, unfiltered thoughts and I was still working up the courage to share them with Her. Then that would truly be everything. In an almost symbolic way, She came to me one night while I was typing and asked to see. I told her the name of the blog and that only made Her want to see more. A few days later I published Running Away and sent Her the link. She met me with unhesitating support, love and enthusiasm for who I was and a massive weight was lifted off my shoulders. Surely, nothing would ever be acted upon (I mean, it was us) but there were no more secrets. I felt I had finally reached the summit.

That same afternoon, I had a spontaneous opportunity to meet with a lifestyle friend I had connected with online. My Wife practically shoved me out the door and him and I ended up sharing a time of conversation that was so invigorating. I had never sat with another cuck friend before; it felt so normal. They have since become good friends and mentors. It’s made me realize how vital having that community support is. All the people that have gone before and freely share their time and experiences have given us a massive head start in learning healthy from unhealthy, avoiding pitfalls and feeling safe. If you are in the LS community and have ever published a blog, done a podcast, chatted with us on Discord, invested time in DMs or left us a suggestion, critique or compliment, I cannot thank you enough. We would not be where we are right now without you.

I didn’t know where my Wife was at when I got home; the entire place was quiet. In my excitement, I had rushed past the kids’ room. She was just finishing putting them down for bed. We connected and settled into our own room and in no time Her questions started flowing. I don’t know how to explain it; all I know is from that moment on, my Wife became a new woman. It wasn’t as if a switch was flipped. Rather, it started as a slow drip of curiosity that quickly developed into a raging torrent. With each passing day, we went deeper together, questioning, fantasizing, confessing, hoping, fearing and confiding. Most of all, She was setting the pace, taking the kernel of an idea that I presented to Her and growing it into Her own. It was all I could do to sit back and witness Her evolve from I could never to I could see it to I want it. Our mornings, afternoons and evenings became a near-constant stream of sharing. Laundry piled up. Cooking was replaced with take-out. Much to their annoyance, our children became all too familiar with the response, “Hold on, mommy and daddy are talking!” from behind our bedroom door. We’ve found our balance again, but that enthusiasm shared equally between us is still burning.

So here we are, coming into 2021 as a vastly different couple than we were a month ago, let alone a year ago. We have talked more about our intimate life in the past few weeks than we have in the past few years, and that is no exaggeration. She has said things to me with complete sincerity that have left me shocked, not only at Her directness but also Her bravery. We have discovered a safety to say anything that has transformed the way we relate to each other and a kind of transcendent, soul-melding sex that neither of us knew existed. We have also tackled challenges, assumptions and miscommunication together and while doing work is not always fun in the moment, it always leaves me increasingly confident in the primacy of our commitment to go through life as a team and care for each other.

Of all the things to happen for us this year, that is the most exciting to me. I started this blog as my story and while there was nothing wrong with that, I am a married man. I never wanted it to just be me. I am grateful that my Wife has taken my story and decided to make it our story. As to the next chapter, I make an honest effort to not to hold expectations for the future and just appreciate the present moment for what it is. I may wonder what I will be writing about in a year from now but I’m not worried about it. I know that no matter what, we are walking into a new season side-by-side in our newfound relationship. Whatever happens, we will do it together. Together is all I’ve ever really wanted.

– Jack