This is not my first trist blogging about my wife's affairs. I used to run a blog on Wordpress. I started it shortly after my wife and began our open marriage arrangement. The blog was pretty cut and dry. "This is what she did today," and "That is what she did yesterday." There was nothing else to it than that. That blog got a fair amount of attention, but I never really connected with it because I didn't delve too deeply into my feelings on the subject. After all, I was harboring some pretty intense fantasies. Fantasies that embarrassed me and made me self-conscious. Fantasies that I hadn't told my wife about, and well, she was aware of and reading the blog, so I continued to keep my thoughts to myself.
That was four years ago. Things have changed.
Rather than rebuild my old blog or repost articles, I'm starting over. A new chapter has begun in my wife and I's relationship, and I think it's important to put my focus there. Certainly I'll reference the past, but I'm not going to be detailing it out like I have in the past. Bear with me. I'll try to make it worth your while.
Our open relationship started pretty much as described by the term. We agreed that she was allowed to sleep with other people, and I was to receive the same benefit. Well, to make a long story short, she started racking up the numbers pretty quickly. During that summer and into fall she slept with a new guy every month for five months. It would slow down, pick back up, slow down, pick back up, you get the idea.
Meanwhile, I wasn't having any luck at all. I mean, let's be honest, there really isn't a huge demand for average looking, married, middle-aged white guys. Not that I think I don't have anything to offer, and based on my past experiences, I'm fairly comfortable with my performance in bed and I'm also slightly above average downstairs. It's just, you know, women aren't beating down my door. I don't think I'm bad looking, but I'm not the guy that gets sultry glances from the other side of the room. Rather, I'm the guy that walks through a mall and just doesn't get noticed at all.
Anyway...
The longer this went on, it became clear that my wife didn't like the idea of me sleeping with anyone else anyway. I had, in my embarrassment, attempted to make up a few encounters so that my wife didn't think I was a total loser or anything, but I couldn't keep the secret from her, no matter how harmless it seemed. She wasn't angry, but she was relieved. And so this eventually led to me agreeing with her that only she was allowed to play.
I already knew about cuckolding prior to suggesting the open marriage (and I was interested), but at the time the fetish didn't have nearly the exposure that it has now. From what I've seen lately, it's becoming much more mainstream. Even porn tube sites are adding cuckold categories to their menus. But back then you had to do a fair amount of searching to find good material on the subject. Regardless, there was no way I was telling my wife then. I was still embarrassed from suggesting that I fantasized about her sleeping with other men in the first place.
However, I've been opening up a lot more as time has passed. I've slowly become less self-concious about my desires. And there were a whole slew of reasons why I was self-conscious before. I didn't want to be insulted. I didn't want to be subjugated by another man or made to feel inferior. I didn't want my wife to leave me. The list goes on. I won't bore you with the details.
Let's fast-forward instead to last Friday night. A night I consider to be a major turning point in our relationship. A milestone even, if you will. Up until that night my wife had slept with more than a dozen guys outside of our marriage. All of them white, mostly co-workers of hers or mine, friends and few randoms, even some Craigslist hookups.
Friday afternoon my wife texted me and said that there was a get together after work for a girl in her department that was leaving. I wasn't in the best of moods that day and I was actually looking forward to spending some time with my wife that night. When she brought this up, I got bitchy. We bickered back and forth a bit via text. Not much out of the ordinary really. It wasn't anything serious. We've been married more than ten years now. The big blowouts are long behind us. But I digress...
So, how did the argument pan out? With this text:
"How bout I fuck a black guy for you?"
Needless to say, it caught me off guard. I know, I know, understatement, but anyway...
She'd never entertained the idea before. She'd even gone as far as to say that she wasn't interested in black guys. It wasn't a racist thing, she just happens to be white, and so she preferred white. Simple as that.
I was blown away. Truth be told, I'd been fantasizing about that very thing since I first learned about cuckolding. But I never told her that. And cuckolding isn't a black-on-white only kinda deal, though it is a fairly common theme.
Of course, my mood changed rapidly. I became nervous and excited and scared and ultra-horny all at the same time. I couldn't keep my hands out of my pants all night as I texted her, hoping frantically for some kind of update. And those updates came few and far between.
Long story short, she did ended up fucking a black guy that night (she was also fondling another black guy at the bar -- a possible hookup for the future). He was her first. She fucked him down the street from our house, in his car, in the lot behind the grocery store. They had made an attempt to get condoms, but neither one of them wanted to go in and buy them, so she ended up fucking him bareback. Which, I have to say, is super-mega-fucking-awesomo-supreme. Her first black cock, and raw to boot. Skin on skin. I swear I could taste him on her pussy when I was going down on her later that night/morning.
Now, not playing into the myth, he was smaller than I am. But it didn't matter. She'd just fucked a black guy. Even now, days after the fact, I still can't wrap my head around it. I'm trying to imagine the contrast of his black cock sliding in and out of her white pussy, but it's very difficult. Which is strange, because I have a vivid imagination. In fact, when I watch porn, I often substitute her in my mind for the starlets in the films. Though for some reason, I just can't grasp this one yet. It's more intense than even her first creampie from another guy.
I've been turning it over and over again in my head ever since. That, in turn, brought me to a sort of reconcilliation with myself. I was tired of being scared and ashamed of my fantasies. I wanted her to know that I wanted her to cuckold me (for the record, I HATE that word, but that's neither here nor there). I wanted her to know that I loved the thought of her fucking black men. I wanted her to know how badly I wanted her to do it again, and again, and again.
She doesn't have to be exclusive, I get much of the same joy, excitement, elation, nervousness, and jealousy when she fucks anyone but me, white or black. But that's part of the appeal for me. It challenges my comfort zone, because frankly, out there in the real world, I'm a fairly confident guy. I can hold my own, I think I'm likeable (for the most part) and I do well at most things I put my mind to.
Stepping out of that skin and into another with less control is also appealing to me. I don't know why. It is what it is, I suppose.
I want to experience more of the cuckolding aspects. I trust her. I love her and I know she loves me. And I'm finally to the point where I just had to put it all on the table. I want to experience the domination and humiliation that comes with being a cuckold. I want her to grab hold, take charge, and run the whole fucking show.
So...I wrote her a letter this morning. I told her everything. Every fetish, every kink, every thought, every desire. As I sit here, blogging, she's at work. I don't know if she's read the letter or not yet. I'll have to wait and see her reaction to it. Some of it she already knew, but I held nothing back this time.
I told what I would like. I told her that I loved her and that I was ready. I made no demands. And I told her to do with it what she will.
For now, I can only wait and see. What happens tonight when she gets home, well, I'll be wringing my hands until then. I'm nervous, but I feel good, relieved even, that I was finally able to get it all out. It's all on the table.
I have faith that, even if she doesn't go for it entirely, she will not judge me.
