W
willypeter
Guest
You write beautifully and really capture the sweet pain of cuckoldry well. Amber seems to be fast becoming the consummate hot wife, and now you're discovering what it really means to be a cuckold. You may or may not realize that you've passed the point of no return as a couple now, but I think she perhaps long ago figured out that you have. She indeed does rule, and one way or another, gracefully or painfully, you'll have to learn to live with it, because I don't think Amber is going to be satisfied with a monogamous marriage again for a long, long time. She's living the good life of love and adoration and copious good fucking while she's young and hot enough to both attract the sex and enjoy the fucking, and you're lying alone in the dark in Chicago or your own home stroking your poor neglected dick while imagining her out strutting her hot stuff, titillating, attracting, flirting with, and fucking other men who are probably much more virile and adept at pleasing her than you ever will be again. Soon you may find yourself cut off almost completely from all that hot stuff as she nicely lets you know that, as much as she loves and adores you for being the sweet and wonderful and understanding man you are, you just don't quite do it for her when it comes to fucking anymore. If you're a good boy, however, and don't try to interfere with her flourishing and now essential (because, honey, well, I just never knew how good sex could be before when I was only fucking you, you see!!!) extramarital sex life, she'll still let you lick her pussy once in a while and give you a perfunctory handjob while she tells you about her latest lover's prowess between her legs. She'll love you more than ever, of course, but now it will not be for what you actually do for her but for what you allow other men to do to her. Hell, you're very nearly already there. Amber is a very precocious hot wife, and you're a perfect husband for her.
You awaken a lot of semi-painful memories of hundreds of nights I spent alone while my wife was out fucking her lovers and spending nights, then weekends, then entire vacations with them. I came to prefer that lonely vigil over participating or even watching her fuck. My imagination was so much hotter than any reality that my dick would stay hard for hours, and there was an addictive emotional high that went with her absence, a sort of nervous tension that never went away while she was out fucking. It was part pleasure, part fear, part concern, part uncertainty and largely imagination. I'm sure you know it well by now. You describe it well. To me that tension became the very essence of being a cuck. It was the essence of my addiction, the drug of choice for an inadequate husband with a hot wife who likes to fuck other men. That concoction you cook up in your own mind is as addictive as heroin, and Amber will soon be injecting you with it even more regularly before going out the door to meet her various lovers. I suspect that J & M are just the first of what may become a whole alphabet of lovers in the next ten or twenty years of your marriage, and you will find yourself encouraging her to find and enjoy more and more and more new men because you're just in the beginning phase of an addiction that will control your waking consciousness for years to come. Like all addictions, the addict has to keep upping the dosage as time goes on, and for the cuck the dosage is measured in the number and size of the cocks and the amount of sperm your wife takes in her orifices in any given week. The more she gets the higher you get . . . and the higher the tension you feel while left alone. It's a psychosis of the sexual orchestra. The music is harmonious enough in a strange discordant way, but the melody you hear is sometimes lonesome and painful, and you'll be listening to a lot of it . . . alone . . . while she makes love to other men, men who give her what her new addiction requires while she gives you what your new addiction requires. For her it's all real; the men, the romance, the thrill of attraction, seduction and consummation, the kissing, fondling, sucking, the sweating and the humping and the screaming and the moaning, the cumming, as well as the friendship, love, affection, and non-sexual time spent with lovers who are there for her every day in reality. For you it's all in your head, in the realm of imagination and lust and raw emotional response to what surely must be a genetic or psychological propensity. Your world and hers are diverging sexually. She's getting more and more of the real thing, and you're getting less and less of her but more and more of what you need. Welcome to the crack house: her crack, your house.
You awaken a lot of semi-painful memories of hundreds of nights I spent alone while my wife was out fucking her lovers and spending nights, then weekends, then entire vacations with them. I came to prefer that lonely vigil over participating or even watching her fuck. My imagination was so much hotter than any reality that my dick would stay hard for hours, and there was an addictive emotional high that went with her absence, a sort of nervous tension that never went away while she was out fucking. It was part pleasure, part fear, part concern, part uncertainty and largely imagination. I'm sure you know it well by now. You describe it well. To me that tension became the very essence of being a cuck. It was the essence of my addiction, the drug of choice for an inadequate husband with a hot wife who likes to fuck other men. That concoction you cook up in your own mind is as addictive as heroin, and Amber will soon be injecting you with it even more regularly before going out the door to meet her various lovers. I suspect that J & M are just the first of what may become a whole alphabet of lovers in the next ten or twenty years of your marriage, and you will find yourself encouraging her to find and enjoy more and more and more new men because you're just in the beginning phase of an addiction that will control your waking consciousness for years to come. Like all addictions, the addict has to keep upping the dosage as time goes on, and for the cuck the dosage is measured in the number and size of the cocks and the amount of sperm your wife takes in her orifices in any given week. The more she gets the higher you get . . . and the higher the tension you feel while left alone. It's a psychosis of the sexual orchestra. The music is harmonious enough in a strange discordant way, but the melody you hear is sometimes lonesome and painful, and you'll be listening to a lot of it . . . alone . . . while she makes love to other men, men who give her what her new addiction requires while she gives you what your new addiction requires. For her it's all real; the men, the romance, the thrill of attraction, seduction and consummation, the kissing, fondling, sucking, the sweating and the humping and the screaming and the moaning, the cumming, as well as the friendship, love, affection, and non-sexual time spent with lovers who are there for her every day in reality. For you it's all in your head, in the realm of imagination and lust and raw emotional response to what surely must be a genetic or psychological propensity. Your world and hers are diverging sexually. She's getting more and more of the real thing, and you're getting less and less of her but more and more of what you need. Welcome to the crack house: her crack, your house.
