Humiliated Into Being a Cuckold
I didn’t ask to be a cuckold. I didn’t know I even was a cuckold until recently. Now I don’t know what to do. I feel so humiliated. I found out my wife is cheating on me and has been for quite some time. I don’t know who he is, but I know there is someone else. I felt that something had changed between us, but didn’t know what it was or why it had happened. My wife is a very strong person who speaks her mind. I am quieter, more reserved. She and I got together in college and hit it off, much to everyone’s surprise. They said that the two of us were so different that it was hard to see the attraction. But the attraction was there, or so I thought. We married a few years later. She and I were both well off, so I know that she didn’t marry me just for my money. Our families got along. All in all, I thought we had a good marriage. The only real drawback we had was in bed, and that wasn’t because of anything really big.
I’m No Stud, Just a Regular (I think) Guy
You see, I’m not like those swashbuckling guys in the romance novels. I’m just an average man who wants to love his wife and not feel like he has to throw her against a wall to turn her on. I’m not really forceful in the bedroom. I also think that my wife was disappointed that my cock wasn’t bigger. It is average, or so I’m told, at 7 inches. I have come to believe that my wife fantasized about a man with a larger cock. Again, she has never come out and admitted her dissatisfaction to me, but she began to read those damned romance novels about a year ago, so I have to think that they fill a void that she doesn’t think I can. Compared to her romance novel heroes, I’m a just some loser living in her house.
Then a few months ago, she went out with her friends. This is something she’s always done and I have never bitched about it because it makes her happy and nothing has ever come of it. But this time she stayed out a lot longer than she usually does and came home smelling of men’s cologne that wasn’t mine.
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Problem Is – He is A Stud
Am I just being paranoid? It turns out that, no, I wasn’t. Soon after that incident, she confronted me with the news that she had found someone else, someone younger, and someone more capable of satisfying her than me. In essence, she said that I was the pathetic loser I thought I was. She didn’t tell me much more about him, but did say that she didn’t want to leave me, but she wasn’t going to give him up to save us. So here I am a loser cuckold.
My mind began to imagine what he looked like and who he might be. I imagined them having sex in our bed. I was surprised and horrified to fine that this thought aroused me. How could it be that I was turned on by the idea of my wife with another man? But this seemed to be the case. I kept quiet for a while about my seemingly bizarre feelings. Life went on. She continued her affair with the unknown man. My fantasies became virtual movies in my head down to the minute details. It was all I could do not to ask my wife about her sex life with him. Obviously it was good, but what was it like? How did he touch her? Was it different than my touch? Finally I asked her these questions. She looked uncomfortable and rolled her eyes at me. She demanded to know why I cared about such details. What did it matter? I told her it mattered a lot, but instead of answering my questions, she just left the room.
But I Like It
Now a few days later, I find myself sipping vodka in front of the television, alone in the house. I had gotten home from work and found the house dark. Several sitcoms and a bottle later, I weaved my way to our bedroom door. As I turned the knob to enter, I heard my wife’s low moan. I threw the door open and saw the two of them in our bed, just like in my fantasy. They were so lost in their passion that for a moment I stood there unnoticed by either of them. Then she saw me. They paused only a moment to glance at me.
“You wanted to see what we looked like,” she said. “Happy now?” I looked for one more moment, and then quietly left the room, closing the door behind me. I slept on the sofa that night and fantasized about the next time I’d get to see them.