Tuesday, September 2, 2014

Some, not all.

I read somewhere (I read a lot about it because I need the validation that my fantasies are desires are real and healthy, at least for me…and Emily) that cuckolding takes what should be a marriage's biggest threat—infidelity—and transforms it into something that instead brings a couple closer together.

That's the essence of our experiences, both before (Evan, Dallas, Jeff), and now. Both in fantasy and role play and the reality of Matthew. I know this would not be true for many people, even most people, but it's true for us. 

Every time it brought us closer together, emotionally. Her dalliances with Evan, her teasing play out of town, even Jeff. Oddly, it brings us closer together intimately, too. 

Why? I have no idea what makes me tick—I can tell you my fantasies and desires, but barely understand them. The same with Emily. Our needs are unique, powerful, and difficult to understand.

But they are our needs.

Emily picked out my outfit first, wanted me to dress before she did. He didn't want Sara, not yet, but she thought I should still dress less masculine, disarming. She suggested I start with a microfiber camisole and panty set. "He doesn't have to meet Sara yet, but you should feel feminine inside," Emily said, "he'll get the mood."

"You're sure," I asked.

"I'm sure," she promised. She got a shirt and slacks from my closet. The shirt was a pink, trim, and while it buttoned on the 'correct' side for a man, the cut, the darting in back, made it un-masculine. The same with the slim cut wool pants, androgynous. 

"He may as well meet Sara," I said.

"No, love, there's a difference," she said, "effeminate, not feminine, emasculated. It sends the right message, doesn't it? Who's the man, who isn't?"

"You're cruel," I said in a mocking tone.

"Am I," she teased.

When I was dressed, Emily asked me to get her small travel bag, asked me to pack toiletries, perfume. I raised an eyebrow, afraid to verbalize what I thought. "Don't worry," she laughed, "clubs get sweaty, I might want to shower before...trust me, I won't shower after."

I blushed, looked away.

"That's what you want, isn't it?"

"I...I don't know," I mumbled.

"Because I can shower after, too, before I come home..."

"No," I whispered, quite only partially from shame, more from excitement.

After I packed her bag, she went to her closet, took out the black slip we'd bought, set it on the bed, went to her dresser, took out coordinating black panties, a new package of black, lace top thigh highs. "These too."

"Aren't...isn't that what you're wearing," I asked.

"You're cute," she flashed a smile, "I'm wearing it...later...I bought a dress." I had a surprised look on my face at that, too. "It's too much, even for a club," she said, touched my arm. "I'll do it another time, though, meet him at the door in lingerie, maybe in the fall, wear it under a coat and go surprise him."

"He...Matthew said to dress...risque," I said. "Like...like..."

"Like his whore," she finished. "Trust me, love, I will, I will...I don't want Matthew, or you, wondering who I belong to tonight." She walked up to me, I knew what she was doing, what she was going to say, but the words still ran through my body like electricity. "I'm his whore, love, I'm Matthew's whore."

I moaned softly, grew in the cage. She hugged me tightly, her breasts pushed against me through the fabric of her satin dressing gown. "I want to feel him, love," she said, "the warmth of his skin, the heat he gives off."

"Emily," I moaned.

"I want to taste him, love, I want to take him in my mouth."

"Hmmmmm," I felt dizzy, jealous, excited.

"And I want to feel him inside me, bare, I want to let him do things only a man does to a woman." I pressed my torso against her, a hopeless, helpless gesture. "My poor little sissy...all locked up where she belongs. After, I want to come home. And tell you. And show you. And if you're a good boy...if..." Her voice trailed off, an unspoken promise.

"You...you promised..."

"Hmmmm...if you're a good boy."

After she showered, she kicked me out of the room, asked me to take her bag downstairs and wait for Matthew while she dressed. 

I was nervous, pacing back and forth. I was anxious. I was excited. I was everything. 

I heard his car, looked at the clock, he was almost ten minutes early. I stopped pacing, started for the door, but didn't want to appear too anxious, took a step back, waited until the doorbell rang, lunged for the door.

"Matthew," I said softly, looking him in the eye, then quickly lowering mine.

"John," he said with a grin as he eyed me up and down, held out his hand for me to shake.

"Come...come in," I stood back, "Emily isn't ready just yet."

"I assumed she wouldn't be; I'm a few minutes early, I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Oh," I said, surprised, forgot, for the moment, the bourbon I'd gotten for him.

"So," he said as he sat in a club chair, "Emily's mentioned the device you've been wearing, the..."

His voice trailed off, he looked at me standing nervously, his eyes went to my waist; his tone demanded the answer as much as anything, demanded I name it, his silence reinforced my uncomfortable feeling and I had to answer. "The chastity cage," I said, looked away.

"How long have you and Emily been experimenting with it...with chastity," he asked calmly.

"For a..."

"Sit," he pointed to couch.

"For a few years," I said doing as he said. "On and off." I laughed nervously at my pun, he smiled.

"Who's idea was it?"

I thought for a moment. "I'm not entirely sure, really...mine, I guess, it's hard to remember."

"Who decides when you wear it? Emily, I assume?" I nodded. "And she decides when it comes off?"
I didn't answer right away; it was rather humiliating to admit my wife controlled something like that and part of me thought he would find it, well, revolting. "John, if you really don't want to talk about it, we don't have to talk about it."

"It...it's embarrassing," I said.

"Embarrassing or humiliating?"

"Both," I admitted.

"I'm not surprised," he said sitting back. Again, the silence was uncomfortable, at least to me.

"She decides," I finally said. "When it comes off."

"Thank you," he said. "I presumed, by the way. How often do you two use it...and for how long?"

I sighed. "We used to do it now and then for a few days at a time, we've started using it more often...most of the time..."

"And how long, John?"

"A couple of weeks to a month...sometimes longer," I said.

"Like now?" I looked up at him in surprise. "She said it had been awhile, John."

"She...we...we haven't since before the wedding, before she met you."

He nodded, almost seemed to understand. "Haven't taken it off of haven't had intercourse?"

"Either," I mumbled.

"But you're intimate, right? Just not intercourse?" I looked up, shook my head again. "I'm glad," he said. "About both. Especially when this is all new. I don't mind your intimacy with Emily, hell, I encourage it, but intercourse...that's a different matter."

"We hardly do that," I said, "it...it's rare..."

"Good, it should be. I mean, for the record, permitted, but very rare. Some things are best left to me, agreed?"

I did, that's the thing, I did agree. Totally. Some things should be left to him. "Yes."

"Good. But I mean it, intimacy shouldn't be rare, okay?"

"I...I know," I said, then chuckled.

"What's humorous, John?"

"I guess it's ironic...you're encouraging me to be intimate with my wife."

"Of course I am. This is about the two of you, first. I'm an outsider. A very influential outsider, but still an outsider," Matthew said. "I get that. If the two of you aren't strong and if you don't both enjoy this, we'll all get hurt."

I sat quietly for a minute, looked at the clock. Emily should be ready by now.

"Can I ask you something, John? Two things actually, before Emily comes down."

"Of course," I answered.

"You know what she and I are doing tonight, right?"


"Is that what you want?"

I looked at the masculine man sitting in the chair in our great room, the man asking me if I wanted him to fuck my wife. Bareback, as they call it. If I wanted him to do what only a husband should do. If I wanted him to take her, fuck her, cum inside her. If I wanted him to treat her like his whore. "Yes," I said almost in a whisper.

"You're sure?"

"Yes," I said again, "I...I can't begin to explain it, but yes."

"Good. I have to make sure. Second thing?"


"Who picked your outfit?"

I blushed. "Emily," I said.

"She's a bad girl," he shook his head, laughing.

"Did I...is...was it wrong?"

"No, John, it isn't. I told both of you I didn't want to meet Sara...yet...I mean...well...never mind, it's too complicated, let's go with yet. This is fine...it sets the right tone between us...so, should we tell Emily we're done, then?" I looked at him...she knew he wanted to talk. He smiled, confirmed it. And on cue, like she'd been listening, I heard Emily's heels coming down the hall.

We both turned, I sat stunned at her beauty, but Matthew rose to greet her.

Here's the dress she wore (bought without me knowing...she's so bad!) with black platform heels and super sheer black nylons (Matthew, it seems, like a certain sissy, has a thing for nylons, though I like wearing them, he doesn't).

She looked stunning...the dress was short, and with heels, her legs seemed to go on forever. She was obviously braless, I the lace didn't quite hide the swell of her breasts. "Hello Matthew," she said quietly.

He walked up to her, put an arm around her, pulled her to him, kissed her long and hard on the mouth. She put her hand up, for a moment, as if to protest, but dropped it. I just stared, I'd never seen something like that, my wife, kissing a man, enjoying it. I'd say I was torn...I was torn...but I couldn't look away, couldn't protest, couldn't do anything but watch my wife melt into into Matthew's arms in a long, sensuous kiss.

Finally, he broke it off, she looked like she might fall over, but kept her balance and was embarrassed, either at the kiss, her reaction, or both.

"You...look beautiful," I said to her, wanting her to know I was okay...good.

Matthew leaned over, whispered in her ear, and she blushed. Whatever he said was their secret, though I may have guessed. "She does look beautiful, doesn't she, dressed the way I like. Do you feel pretty, Emily," he asked.

"Yes," she blushed, "but..."

"But it's more revealing than you're used to, I know," he reached up, touched her stomach through the sheer lace. "Does it make you self-conscious? Showing off your body?"

"Yes," she said, "I...I'm not used to...flaunting...it's...different."

"Good girls don't dress like this, do they," he said hand still on her stomach.

"No," she swallowed.

"John, I'd like that drink now, just a single-I'm driving-and a glass of wine for Emily."

I went to the kitchen, poured Em a glass of white wine, poured Matthew a single serving of the Blanton's Bourbon I'd bought. When I brought the drinks (none for me), he was sitting in the chair again, this time with my wife on his lap.

She was leaning back against him, eyes closed; he had his arms around her, his left hand was cupping her breast, his right was running up and down her thigh, teasing her through her nylons, moving higher and higher. I knew from touching her how excited she got when her thighs were played with, how she'd start shaking in anticipation, how wet she'd get.

I set the drinks down next to them, sat on the couch, quietly watching him touch her like he owned her...and the reality was, now, at this moment, he did.

She was breathing faster, rubbing against him; I saw her hands open, tense, she was close, if he moved his hand up slightly, if he merely grazed her, she'd cum. "Please," she whispered when his hand stopped.

He looked at me, spoke to her. "Please what?"

"Please...please don't stop," she said.

But he did, still looked at me, "I will for now, Emily, but I won't later, I promise."

After a minute he said it was time to go. "Sorry the drink, John, if we don't go now we might not leave." They stood, so did I. Emily embraced me, told me how hot it made her to do this, how excited.

More later.


  1. I think it is great that Matthew is concerned for the welfare of you and Emily as a couple, first and foremost. "I'm an outsider. A very influential outsider...If the two of you aren't strong and if you don't both enjoy this, we'll all get hurt." So true. He knows he's the straw that stirs the drink. That said, he also knows exactly how to push both your and Emily's buttons.


  2. A very nice way to start the evening ... seeing first hand Emily sexually excited and submitting to him. Can't wait to hear how her return went :)

  3. Lovely! Thank you for sharing it with us. :)



  4. Wow. Thank you for this cuckold's-eye view. Matthew is very forthright, isn't he, both in word and deed. Very dominating right from the start. Can't wait to hear the rest of the story.