“The Moment He Took Her”

“The Moment He Took Her”

While cleaning out some old emails the other day, I found something buried in the drafts folder. The title immediately jumped out at me, but then I read the preview text: “I stroked to the rhythmic creaking of our…” I thought to myself, “Oh my god, this is porn!” I had written it back in March 2018, clearly while feeling some kind of way. As a guy not currently in the lifestyle (and at this point wasn’t even close to the level of transparency I now share with my wife), writing erotica was an outlet for me to express my sexuality, especially in violent moments of lust. Below is the entire, unedited text. I hope you enjoy it as much as I apparently enjoyed writing it.

I stroked to the rhythmic creaking of our marriage bed. My wife had moved to her back, legs spread eagerly in the air to accept him. He mounted her, powerful thrusts now filling our chamber with the distinct sounds of their lovemaking. The squeaks of the first bed we bought together. The wetness of her cunt for him. The purrs of a woman in heat.

Her perfectly-painted nails dug trenches into his chiseled back while her eyes rolled back towards the headboard. My anxiety surged at the sight of my enraptured bride. I felt my heartbeat in my throat and in my cock. I stroked faster. Her lover’s tight, beautiful ass quickened its pounding beneath her thighs. It was about all I could see from my corner but with every stroke, it revealed for the slightest moment the sight of his thickness buried bare in my wife’s pussy.

Then his grunting joined the symphony of their sex. My wife’s legs wrapped tightly around his waist and she whispered something in his ear that I couldn’t hear. This brought him over the edge, for no sooner than her lips kissed his ear did he press his hips into her as hard as he could and groan. His balls twitched beneath his ass and I knew that in that moment, his sperm was flooding into her. He was marking her and her legs made it clear that she’d have it no other way. The thought of his cock pumping inside her made me lose control. My own seed started to spill out onto my hand while his soaked into her pussy. She was taken.

Making a Cuckold

Making a Cuckold

“Why are you the way that you are? I hate so much, the things you choose to be.” -Michael Scott

Any other fans of The Office will immediately recall this one of many showdowns between the Dunder Mifflin Scranton branch manager and his arch-rival in HR, Toby Flenderson. However, this quote is more than a joke to me. It resonates deep within me, from myself, to myself (not unlike that one time Dwight fought himself). I, as many other men like me, have often wondered why my particular desires exist. At times, that desire can quickly turn to loathing the things I got off to moments before. Thus we arrive at the age-old question: what the fuck?

One of the most interesting things about people is our stories. Everyone has a unique life history that helps make us who we are. The mystery of our personalities is wrapped up in a host of factors, including our biology, environment and experiences. Over the years, a few have stood out to me over and over again; certain variables in my life that, when tweaked just right, helped make the man I am today.

Jesus Freak

I was raised in an evangelical Christian home. We went to church every Sunday and week after week, from birth until my mid-twenties, I sat and listened to lessons from the Bible. Curiously, Christian culture takes poems, letters and stories written thousands of years ago and distills them down into neat little rules, mainly revolving around sex. For guys, don’t watch porn or jerk off; for girls, don’t tempt guys. My teens and almost all of my twenties was spent very repressed. I discovered masturbation on my own, watched a lot of porn and felt really bad about it. That was my sex education.

Another component of my sex and relationship education was complementarianism (patriarchy), the belief that man and woman each have unique, complementary roles ordained by God that they should not deviate from. Specifically, the husband was the leader of the family and the wife should submit to him (yes, a man wrote that). We believed this. Our wedding vows reflected it. We entered into a good Christian union as good Christian people, neither being encouraged to find our own way, sexually. It was already defined for us.

Ironically, I feel that this conservative upbringing is what primed me for much of my kinky sexuality, including cuckolding. Justin Lehmiller makes the case in a recent article for why conservative men are much more likely to fantasize about their wives fucking other men. In the piece, he shares Jack Morin’s erotic equation: Attraction + Obstacles = Excitement. In other words, taboo is sexy. The more you force a man into hyper-masculine patriarchy, the potentially hotter it is for his wife to subvert his “leadership” and let another man conquer her. The more I read, the clearer it became: I had no idea how much of a prime cuckold candidate I was.

My introduction to cucking was through porn. I don’t recommend that path at all (a post for another time) but this was 2013 and the wealth of quality resources we have today just weren’t there. Yes, cuckold porn is cheesy, over-the-top and maybe even harmful but at the time, all I knew was that the first time I saw a wife in the throes of passionate fucking with a hung, virile man while her husband sat and watched longingly in the corner, it struck my sexual psyche like a lightning bolt, igniting something deep within me. It was dirty and taboo but also hit closer to home for me than anything else I’d seen yet. I had no idea how hooked I was. Seven years later, that fire is burning hotter than ever.

“You Cheated On Me?”

When I specifically asked you not to?”

The human brain is an amazing thing in that when trauma strikes, it adapts, sometimes in curious ways. I hesitate to use that word in light of something so trivial but when you’re a freshman in college and your first relationship ever goes sideways, it feels like the end of your world. To be fair, it was partially my fault for making it my world but you have to understand, I was the shy, nerdy kid growing up. The guy that girls didn’t talk to unless they needed help with homework. The guy that got “Quit jerkin’ it” written in his yearbook. The lanky, awkward teenager that obsessively compared himself to other guys and never felt good enough (okay, maybe that’s every teenager).

The point is, I wasn’t sure if or when I’d ever have someone special to call my own. Then, she came into my life. Did I have the self-confidence and maturity for a healthy relationship? No. Were we a good match? Fuck no. Was she giving me attention? Yes. A girl was giving me attention! So I rolled with it. We had some good times but most of our time together was spent fighting, and she always won. She wore the pants in that relationship and I was just excited to make someone happy. I thought I was too, until I found out what she was doing with the guy I wasn’t supposed to worry about.

Remember the homework thing? Yeah, I was doing her homework on her computer but couldn’t help but notice some not-hidden-at-all messages she had saved. Dirty messages, and not with me! Her friend was a fuck buddy and they had been very friendly for most of our relationship, while all we had ever done was kiss. Years before I ever knew the term, I was cucked. This was devastating to me, made worst by the fact that for the rest of the semester, I had to see them around campus, hugging, kissing and, well, I knew what else they were doing.

Over the years, tidbits of this silly college fling have manifested in little revelations that click into place as I try to put the puzzle together. For example, the time she told me how much she missed her ex-boyfriend’s big dick and all the amazing sex they had together (yes, that happened). Or the time she turned me down for sex because she said I wasn’t ready (she was right but it wasn’t any less humiliating). When I take these little experiences of my life and hold them up against my sexuality today, I can’t help but notice how similar they are.

A Happy Ending

I am grateful every day that my story ends well. Instead of marrying or knocking up (or both) the first girl that ever gave me attention, I ended up meeting a woman I would fight the whole world for; someone who loves me for who I am and is truly worthy of every drop of devotion I have for her. More than that, she has been patient and understanding with me throughout my sexual journey, with all the confusion, shame and weird, freaky ideas that come with it. We love each other and no matter what, that will always be enough for me.

So maybe my inclination towards being a cuckold is rooted in some negative and even hurtful times in my life. My fundamentalist roots made the notion of a married woman playing outside her marriage especially exciting. My brain may have eroticized “cheating” (extramarital sex – cuckolding isn’t cheating, folks) due to my first relationship experience. Does that mean my sexuality is bad, or invalid, or just a negative coping mechanism? No, I don’t think so. Regardless of how I got here, what I have now is something that brings me excitement, pleasure and, most importantly, encourages me to worship my wife even more. While I’m still working on fully accepting myself, I know who I am and the value I bring to a relationship. Getting excited about cuckolding doesn’t take away from that; it enhances it.

What’s your story? How did you get to where you are now? Think about it, process it, accept it, and then own it. You’re worth it.

Cuck XO

Next up on the blog: Training For Someday

What Are Cuckold Kisses?

What Are Cuckold Kisses?

In my introduction post I talked a little bit about what the name “Cuckold Kisses” means to me. Unlike what pornography portrays, cucking your man or being her cuck is inseparable from a loving relationship. I love kissing and the feelings of tender intimacy it conjures up. In some ways I feel it’s more intimate than sex and so it felt like the perfect word to pair with “cuckold.” However the two words together invoke more than just deeply erotic feelings in me, and they do. I also see vignettes of passion flashing in my mind when I close my eyes.

I see myself standing just inside our front door with my wife. Her lover just parked outside and within the minute, she will be his for the evening. I feel her hand come over my pants, fondling my cage, flicking it up and down with her fingers. She leans in to whisper something in my ear. We press our pounding chests together and share a supercharged kiss. His knock on the door interrupts us.

I see myself kneeling on the floor next to our bed, both hands folded and resting on the duvet. Inches from my face, primal, lustful sounds emanate from my wife as her lover takes her from behind. “Oh! He’s hitting that spot you’ll never reach.” I latch on to her brief moment of acknowledgement, clasp my hands in hers and lean in. Through her pounding, she manages to find my lips. I feel her lover’s rhythm as our faces lock together.

I see myself sitting on the edge of our bed, head cocked over my left shoulder to watch my wife lounging in the middle of all our pillows. We’re holding hands, just to let each other know we’re there, and for now that’s all the communication we have because her mouth is full of her lover’s penis. She never loved sucking mine but, in her words, “There’s just something about his.” He’s standing in front of her, hands rested gently on her head, holding back her hair while she loves on every swollen inch of him. He’s close. I watch the whole of him slide out and the tip press into her upper lip. Eruption. With nowhere else to go, splashes of white coat my wife’s pursed smile. She turns to me, his seed suspended on her mouth and motions me closer. We smooch and share his essence together.

I see myself fast asleep. My wife left hours ago to go play in his bed. I had cleaned up the house, put the kids to bed and watched TV for a while, but she told me not to wait up for her. When I lay down on my pillow, I trusted that in a few hours she’d be home safe. That’s when I felt her touch on my arm and her breath in my ear. “Honey…it’s me. I’m home safe.” She gives me time to stir awake and crack a sleepy smile, even though it’s dark and we can’t see each other. “Did you have a good time?” I asked. I already knew the answer. “Incredible, baby, as always. He takes such good care of me, but I’m so happy to be back in bed with you.”

Then the tone in her voice changed. “He left you something, baby. Do you want it?” “Yes.” I didn’t care what time it was. I would never pass up sex with my wife. Yes, this is our sex. Minus the very occasional uncaging for a handjob or pity fuck, our sexual intimacy is entirely focused on me kissing her pussy, sometimes with an extra something special. I felt the mattress shift as she slid off her panties and positioned herself, thighs on either side of my head, and lowered. I smelled it before I felt it, her sex still wet from a thorough fucking, and then I felt her lips touch mine. The taste of her vagina mixed with his semen flooded my senses, and I felt the few remaining globs of his sperm slide into my mouth while she stroked my hair and pushed him into me like he had spurted into her an hour before.

After she lay down next to me, we kissed good night and I rolled over. I couldn’t sleep; I was just trying to remember what our life was like before cuckold kisses.

Cuck XO

Up next on the blog: Making a Cuckold

I’m a Cuckold!

I’m a Cuckold!

I know we don’t know each other yet (hopefully that changes soon) but trust me when I say, it takes a lot for me to proudly proclaim that. I am new to blogging but not at all new to the topic. In fact it was less than a year into my marriage that the titillating image of my wife sleeping with other men wormed its way deep into my mind and it hasn’t been uprooted since. That was about seven years ago, and it hasn’t always been easy, but I’m excited to cover my journey in more detail soon. For now though, allow me to introduce myself.

Who am I? Well, I mentioned the word “cuckold”, the subject of this blog and what I identify as. In today’s terms, a cuckold is a man who’s wife is free to sleep with other men while he remains sexually faithful to her and, this is the key, they both love it that way (credit to Cuckoldress Venus for the succinct definition). Currently, my wife and I are not yet in a cuckolding dynamic, and at first I wondered what I could possibly have to say here. However, not only does my wife acknowledge and remain open to the lifestyle in the future, we’ve started exploring related things together (yay, pussy denial!). I think of “cuckold” as an orientation, a frame of mind, a daily discipline, and a personal lifestyle, whether your wife is actively fucking other men or not. Wherever you come down on the label, I’m excited and proud to have it!

While I’m excited to talk more about that, there’s obviously more to me than that. I’m a family man first; my wife and kids are my greatest gift and accomplishment and I like to spend as much time with them as I can. When I do have some time to burn, I like to go into the garage, crank up some music and work up a sweat in my gym; go for a run with a podcast or audiobook; plop down with a video game or do a project on the house. I don’t think I seem any different from most guys and until society is widely accepting of non-monogamy, it’s probably for the best to keep it that way!

Why the blog? To be honest, I’ve been inspired. For years my cuck thoughts have been swirling inside my head but when I saw other guys like The Geeky Cuckold or Confident Cuckold really getting after it on their blogs, it gave me the confidence I needed to do it too. I feel that I have come a long way to this point in my life but most of my journey is still ahead of me. My hope for this space is to pay it forward, encourage, educate and, of course, occasionally titillate!

Why the name? The moniker I go by, Cuckold Kisses, and the shorthand/signature Cuck XO, is directly inspired by Cuckoldress Venus’ hashtag #cuckoldingislove. The reason it means so much to me is because my introduction to cuckolding was through porn, during a low point in my life. My first impression was that the women were mean and indifferent toward their men and I used that porn to numb the pain of my low self-esteem. Once I learned the truth about cucks and their cucktresses, it felt like coming out of the forest.

What I thought I once wanted was bullshit. This is what I really wanted all along. “I’ll be home late, honey. Don’t wait up for me,” with a hug. “He fucked me so hard like only he could, baby. I really, really needed that. I love you,” with a kiss. Love. Firm, tender, grateful, ride-or-die love. The name Cuckold Kisses reminds me that no matter what form the cuckolding takes, it always comes back to love.

What’s next? Real talk: I struggle with being brave and too embarrassed in my relationship to make my dreams come true, but every time I’ve mustered the courage, whether it’s been about wearing panties, wanting small penis humiliation or being a cuckold, my wife has been nothing but understanding and supportive. Personally, I want to get serious and keep moving forward towards a female-led, cuckolding dynamic focused on her pleasure, because she deserves it (seriously, this woman works harder than anyone I know) and I want it for her. Along the way I’m going to use this blog to engage with the community, document my fears, fantasies, victories, lessons learned and hopefully encourage others and myself along the way. If you’ve made it this far, thanks for reading!

Cuck XO

Up next on the blog: What Are Cuckold Kisses?