The Size Matter

The Size Matter

“Oh baby, you feel so big.” Oh, the number of times I heard this from my wife Bunni over our years of lovemaking. It was sweet and affirming and made me feel loved, even though I knew it wasn’t even close to true. Although she genuinely meant it, she had no frame of reference to make such a statement. We met and married young and on our wedding night, we were each other’s first and only lovers. For almost all of our marriage, Bunni had never watched porn or played with a dildo either. I on the other hand had watched more than enough porn to understand what a big dick actually looked like and measured myself enough to find where I fit in on the spectrum. So in those moments of well-intentioned but ultimately misguided dick praise from my wife, my brain automatically transliterated her phrasing to, “Oh baby, you feel so good.” I knew that’s what she meant to say and as much as I loved that, I always wanted more for her.

Does size really matter? It depends on who you ask. Some say that the male ego tends to obsess more over penis size and yet the countless accounts from women that refuse to settle for less are compelling. I use Spring 2013 as a frame of reference for first discovering cuckolding and ever since that time, I knew that there was so much more than me that Bunni could experience. My curiosity was piqued: would she be one of those for whom it would make a neutral or even negative difference or was there an entire new plane of her pleasure that was waiting to be experienced?

Her “Guy Friend”

Bunni and I are in a brand-new cuckold marriage, where she is encouraged to discover and explore her deepest sexual desires and my limits are always respected and yet lovingly challenged. The most significant of those gentle growth opportunities for me has been my wife discovering that her needs as a cuckoldress include more than just sex. The emotional aspect of cuckolding is an emphasis in both of our lifestyle fantasies and yet, until her search for the right guy comes to fruition, we are left to explore the purely physical with the use of a relatively new toy: her dildo.

Just a few months ago, Bunni playing with another guy was not even a question for us but I had suggested the idea of a dildo several times over the years. She was always apprehensive, especially about the realistic ones, because to her it felt too much like bringing another person into our sex life (we both look back on that and laugh now). Two years ago, unrelated to those discussions, I bought myself a big, realistic dildo when I started to discover my bisexual side. When she found it one morning while I was at work and rightfully freaked out, I took the rest of the day off to talk. That season was the catalyst for us going to couple’s therapy and the origin story behind the toy that we so love playing with now.

When our lifestyle discussions began and I knew that we were a much different couple than we were back then, I dug the dildo back out of storage. She was surprised that I still had it and, unsure of how to read her reaction, I offered to throw it away right then. After all, I felt like it had a lot of negative history and energy behind it. Instead she said “Maybe don’t…” and ended up being very glad that she did. The toy that was once the center of some of our most strange and difficult months as a couple found redemption as a favorite piece in the most exciting time of our sex life. It became her “guy friend” that would end up helping her discover those new levels of untapped pleasure as well as new ways to relate to me, her husband.

The very night that we had our first serious discussion about cuckolding, she wanted to play with it. I will never forget that evening. It was not just immensely hot but the answer to a years-long question of how Bunni’s pussy would respond to a larger cock and I received my answer loud and clear. Adorably, she was doubtful it was much larger than I as she insisted she had always seen me that way. It was only after I insisted that she hold it up and compare to me that it sunk in. She had me lay down next to her and slowly tease, rub, tap and slide, building the anticipation to levels ready to burst. Then, the moment of truth. The ecstasy was undeniably written in her face and my wife became more vocal in bed than I had ever heard. How good it felt. How big it was. How much it was stretching and filling her up. She turned and asked me how it felt to be on the outside watching her get fucked and between fixating on the shaft sliding in and out of her and the enraptured look on her face, I couldn’t express to her enough how in love with the moment I was. After her orgasm had screamed in my ear and she let me in next, we bantered about how loose she felt and I didn’t make it much longer.

That was the beginning of a significant and exciting shift in our sex life. Suddenly, my wife found something she loved in bed and felt completely free to ask for. It didn’t matter if I was in the middle of doing her – if she wanted it, she’d ask me to stop and go get it. She started asking for it every single time and I felt myself looking forward to her preferring it over me just as much as she looked forward to it sliding in for that first time. Reality rapidly set in: bigger was better for Bunni. She explained to me that the deep, full feeling sent sensations throughout her entire body that she had never felt with me and that it really did feel better. Best of all, she didn’t hesitate or apologize for it. Her frankness dared me to fall into deeper states of arousal and it worked. She was discovering her pleasure and speaking her truth as an emerging hotwife and it made me melt.

Talk Tiny To Me

Bunni and I never used to talk dirty in bed. Maybe it’s because we had nothing dirty to talk about. However, after opening up discussion about cuckolding and exploring a bigger dick, something happened in our bedroom: teasing, filthy and occasionally downright mean words started to spill out of my sweet wife’s mouth like it was nothing. I never could have asked for the natural ways in which her gentle humiliation flowed out of her lips and into my ears. I have always craved small penis humiliation from my Love. I can’t explain why I enjoy it so much except to say that it makes me feel warm, accepted, loved, goaded, teased and aroused when I receive it. Being that Bunni had always been hesitant to step into a dominant role, I thought that I’d have to ask her for what I want and help guide her how to most excite me. I didn’t even have time to ask. Bunni started giving it to me all on her own and it was better than I could have ever requested because it was completely natural.

I often journal memorable sexual experiences between Bunni and I because I don’t want to forget them. I especially make a point to write down specific things that she says to me. What I love most about her words is that although they are simple and completely free, each one feels like a gift that I cherish and never want to let go. These days I find myself reminiscing on our encounters more often than watching porn. It could be something as simple as when she said “That was the best I’ve ever been fucked” or “You’ve never made me feel like that” after a session with her dildo. I long for the moments during sex when she told me to stop trying to last and just cum so she could play with her dildo, or how I felt like just a little tickle in her pussy, or that one night when she said that for some reason she couldn’t really feel me at all. My gentle wife’s creativity stunned me when she said “You’re just the warm-up for me, baby. Will you warm my pussy up for him?” and hearing “You’re not allowed in my pussy tonight. It only wants big dick” was downright thrilling. Still, for me nothing beats the pillow-talk after we are both spent. The “scene” is over and as we snuggle next to each other, fingers running over skin, we both start to come back to reality.

It is that moment of authenticity that sends me into the stratosphere, when she looks me lovingly in the eyes and says that she was missing out on so much. In me not being able to give her that deep, full feeling that sends waves of sensation through her whole body, I’m not enough for her. She needs more. Not only that, she loves that she wants more than me, she likes hearing those words come from her mouth and she adores that they make her husband fall deeper in love with her. At first, I assumed that Bunni was embellishing, even slightly, for the sake of my excitement but not so. One night, in a moment of complete honestly, Bunni said that she had never embellished anything she said to me: “I just say what’s true.” She really did feel bored that one time and almost reached for her phone. In comparison to what she had felt, I really did feel less.

There’s something about the authenticity of her comments that turns up the heat for me and perhaps helped me get to the root of why I enjoy teasing and even humiliation in a loving context: it can be a safe and pleasurable way to explore our shortcomings, vulnerabilities and insecurities, and be accepted for them. Porn is great but as with other topics like chastity and cuckolding, the experience pales in comparison to being in bed with the one you love. When Bunni teases me, she does it with love because she knows what reaction it’s going to get. When I’m teased by her, I experience greater feelings of intimacy and admiration for her, but I also celebrate her speaking her truth. It doesn’t matter that I have a smaller penis; it still provides pleasure to us both in a unique way.

I Measure Up Just Fine

I’ve never actually felt insecure about my size. For most of my marriage that was probably because I didn’t have the occasion: after all, Bunni didn’t watch porn or play with toys and so was fully satisfied if not mistakenly impressed with me. Over the many strictly vanilla years, we figured out what worked for us in bed. We both get the best of both worlds in that while we can and do still enjoy vanilla sex that is fulfilling for us both, she gets to explore sex that feels even better than me and brings excitement to us both as well.

Exploring cuckolding has helped me appreciate my penis size even more though. I genuinely love my penis the way it is and often feel that if I had the option to make it bigger, I really wouldn’t. I feel like it matches my sexual personality and enhances the enjoyment of our play. If I was bigger, I feel that small penis humiliation or being compared to her dildo or eventual boyfriend wouldn’t be as enjoyable. I love when she calls it cute. I enjoy being teased. I like feeling that Bunni and I share a little secret about me together. I’d have it no other way.

These nights, when Bunni tells me that I feel so good while we’re fucking, I really do believe her. I know that she’s being honest because now she does have some frame of reference. I’m perfectly happy with me feeling good and bigger feeling better because we both love it that way.

Beyond Fulfillment

Beyond Fulfillment

Last month, my Wife and I began seriously talking about what it would look like for us to enter the lifestyle. For the first time in our relationship, no topic was off limits: hotwifing, cuckolding, ethical non-monogamy, our traditional upbringing and vanilla marriage, jealousy, comparison, contrast, the different kinds of love…the list went on and on. We likely logged two or three full days worth of talking in that first month. It was just that – talking – until it wasn’t. We (she) decided that it was something we wanted to pursue and as soon as we both realized that the only thing standing in our way was us, it felt real. If the weeks leading up to that realization were lighter fluid, that moment was a match. Our relationship exploded into a new realm that we had never experience before.

One evening, my Wife brought up that despite all of our time in relationship together, it took us thinking about other people for Her to experience this sexual awakening and our marriage to be invigorated. What did that mean? What did that mean about Her? About me? This led to us discussing a topic we never felt free to before: fulfillment. Did She just want more than me or did She need more? On the flip side, did I need this dynamic to feel satisfied with our sex life or could I ever be content with it being just the two of us (is the song playing in your head now?).

We pressed further into these uncomfortable questions and reminisced on our relationship, particularly the past two years when the “awful vanilla sex” (her words, not mine) that defined most of our marriage started to turn into something more in 2019. That was the year that we decided to invest in couple’s therapy. It was some of the best time and money we’ve ever spent. It helped us address some issues that had been weighing on us for a while and neither person wanted to touch. I think that was the first time, seven years into our marriage, that we tackled something serious together as a team, actually resolved it and came out better on the other side. That experience was the beginning of a new chapter of opening up to each other and making our relationship what we we wanted it to be. We broke through the repression and dysfunction of our youth and discovered our true sexual potential with one another. It was an experience that we never knew existed. Our bedroom ceased being a place of routine maintenance and transformed into a truly freeing, intimate, explorative play environment.

We came to the conclusion that wanting to push that exploration even beyond our bedroom didn’t have to mean anything about either of us, except for perhaps the obvious: variety is spicy. For us it’s about adding more flavors to the ones we already enjoy. Sure, there are tons that we can taste ourselves but who doesn’t love something new? Her texting and sexting someone else? A new flavor. Her going out, dating and sharing her adventures with me? Delicious. Making a friend and playing all together? Yes please. Cleaning up? Definitely a flavor. We want to dive in, start tasting and find the ones we really love.

Some Body To Love

One of the first real things we did after deciding that we wanted to dip our toes into the non-monogamous water was sign up for a dating site. After just a few days She ended up matching with a guy that is, to put it mildly, fucking gorgeous. He is unfair amounts of beautiful from head to toe. This presented an opportunity for us to once again talk about flavors as one evening, my Wife said the most direct and brave thing I have ever heard Her say to me. We were talking about the difference between his body and mine and why She enjoys them both in different ways. In the course of Her explanation, She said that if we were in a lineup on Tinder, She would obviously pick his body over mine.

I was equal parts proud of her courage and stunned by the implications of her comment. Did I need to start working out more? I’m not going to lie, that was my first instinct: to compete. My ego was bruised. She assured me that She didn’t want me to change. This triggered me even more! She wouldn’t want me to look hot like this guy if I could? Does She not see me that way anymore? In my anxious spiral, I totally misinterpreted Her comment as saying that She didn’t want me to work on myself or be more sexy for Her. In a moment of love, what She was actually saying was that I didn’t need to do that. The way She loves my body is wrapped up in so much more complexity than simply what it looks like. It’s our history. It’s our relationship. It fulfills so many more needs for Her than just “looking hot” or sex. Although that is not what my ego wanted to hear, it’s what my heart needed.

She confronted me that I wouldn’t pick her body out of a lineup either. I still actively disagree with my Wife on this point. Her body is my type. I love ogling, touching, worshipping and playing with it and I wouldn’t change a thing about it. I have never wanted more. However, I have to admit that She is the only woman I’ve ever been with. The way I enjoy her body is inseparable from my experience with Her as my Wife and the one I love. I’d probably enjoy other flavors too if I cared to try them but I don’t. However, She does want to try them and that’s okay. It’s not a reflection on me. I had to think for a second if it’s okay that She wants to try other flavors of people and I don’t, but it is. Why would us both getting what we want ever be wrong?

The Gift

While my Wife and I were pressing deeper into the uncomfortable questions of fulfillment in our marriage, I brought up a point that one of my friends, who is poly, shared with me. Eli Finkel, a social psychology professor at Northwestern University, studied married couples and found that those who were able to outsource certain needs were much more happy and satisfied in their relationships. In other words, one person was never meant to completely satisfy their spouse in everything. Of course that doesn’t mean that every relationship needs to be open. You can outsource to family and friends. You can outsource romance without sex or sex without romance. The possibilities are as endless as you want them to be.

Initially, neither of us felt like we had anything to outsource. We felt very satisfied with each other within the limits of what we felt was possible. However, we were now expanding the boundaries of what we ever thought possible and I thought of at least one thing (besides a huge cock) that I could never provide for my Wife: the excitement of a new relationship. It was never going to happen, by virtue of the thing that committed relationships aspire to: time. The more successful I am as her husband, the less I’m able to provide that incredible new relationship energy (NRE) for Her. We’ve been together for 11 years and married for 9. We’re in a much different phase of life than we were 11 years ago when we first met – better, but different. Those first weeks and months of butterflies have long since flown away. What if She wanted to experience those feelings again, while remaining grounded in the love and safety of her husband? What if She could?

That evening as we deconstructed all things fulfillment, my Wife looked at me and said the thing that inspired me to write this blog to begin with. She said that in a way, I am the one ultimately providing that fulfillment for Her, by being brave enough to outsource it to someone else. It is a gift that I give Her that deepens Her love, respect and passion for me. That is the beauty of the cuckold lifestyle to Her and I could not agree more wholeheartedly. At this point in our journey, I had no doubts that She already had a healthy understanding of what we were getting ourselves into but in that moment, She had surpassed my expectations by giving me a perspective on the lifestyle that I had either forgotten about or never heard before. After all the time of my sharing with Her, She was now teaching me about what cuckolding meant to Her. That moment was everything for me.

It is that moment and many other small ones leading up to it that make me feel safe to take Her hand and step side by side into something more. I feel so fortunate that all those years ago, I married a woman who would have more deep love and care for me than I could have ever imagined back then, yet such courage now to ask for even more and be willing to take it. Neither one of us knew what was lying in wait for our marriage and in this moment, we don’t know what lies past today. What we do know is the things we’ve heard and read of experiences beyond satisfaction and that is what we want to venture towards together.

Running Away

Running Away

Last spring my Wife and I were in the thick of catching up on housework on a Sunday morning. This is a typical weekend endeavor for us as a result of the literal human tornadoes that we created. As usual, I had my headphones in as I work more efficiently that way. On this particular day my mood was standup comedy – Youtube clips of Mark Normand to be specific – and the only reason I remember to that level of detail is because of what happened next. I was in the front room, working on the disaster area otherwise known as our arts and games closet, when the jokes stopped playing. That usually means that one of the tornadoes has found my phone but little do they know that when my headphones go silent, I know something is up. I turned to leave the closet and apprehend my device but when I cleared the other side of the door, I found my wife waiting for me. Holding my phone. Then she asked me, “Honey, what’s a cuckold?”

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Well, fuck. Was she snooping? No. It turned out She just wanted to surprise me by playing one of her new favorite songs. Seeing as I don’t pay for Youtube Premium and have to leave my phone unlocked and on the table to listen to videos, she had the perfect opportunity to swipe it. At this point I was thinking to myself, “This a perfect example of why I should just pay for Youtube Premium. It’s only ten dollars per month. Am I really that cheap?” Then I remembered that it was 9:30AM and my wife was asking me what a cuckold was.

One minute I was jamming Uno cards back into their package and trying to determine which of the thousands upon thousands of scribbled art drawings strewn about the floor were too special to be recycled, the next minute I was being questioned about my sexual fantasies. Not just any one either but the one that I have long been the most ashamed of. My level of embarrassment has been so great that I still struggle to say the word “cuckold” in front of my Wife at full volume. Needless to say, I was super not prepared to have that conversation with Her, never mind the fact that She could not have been more disarming. I was too triggered in that moment with all the years of pent-up guilt and shame. So, I did what any reasonable person would do in that situation: I frantically snatched my phone out of Her hands and ran away.

Hide and Seek

Where exactly did I think I was running? I hadn’t thought that far ahead. There was nowhere in our house that She couldn’t follow me, and follow She did. In my panic, all I could do was exclaim “I don’t want to talk about it” over and over like a broken record to try and get Her off my tail. All the while She pursued me with giggles and reassurance that it was okay, She was just curious, and I could tell Her. In that moment though I just couldn’t, because while She wasn’t treating it as a big deal, every talk we had about sex was a big deal to me. I always made it a big deal.

Every tiny little hint of my sexuality that I ever chose to open up to Her about had to be a high-stakes, sit-down talk. It couldn’t just be a casual, in-passing conversation like She was trying to initiate then and there. I didn’t have that level of comfort in communicating about sex because for most of our relationship, we just didn’t. Having both come from repressed backgrounds free from comprehensive education about sexuality, relationships, communication and therapy, the early years of conversation were difficult, often emotional, as we struggled to find our way together. Being the non-confrontational person I am, I started to hold my feelings close instead of sharing them. I felt like I was doing Her a favor by not burdening Her. This was an incredibly immature and bad idea. Now our sex talks had become pressure release valves interspersed among long periods of silence. Each time we both knew going in it was going to be difficult, it was just about how much. I am the reason why I dread sex talks.

I now understand how detrimental it is to a relationship (and personal mental health) to hide things from your partner. That is just not what a partnership is. By giving in to my fear, I was robbing my Wife and our marriage of potential to grow in understanding and compassion for each other, even if some friction came along with it. Some friction is inevitable when two (or more) individuals enter into a relationship; it’s an opportunity to work, learn and grow together. We have since had several frank discussions about how my awkward hesitation and constant waiting for the “right moment” creates that high-stakes pressure for Her and dooms the conversation from the start, not makes it better. However, I had gotten used to giving in to fear for a very long time and that is why, even though we are now both different people, more mature, open-minded, empathetic and in love than ever before, my old habits die hard. My first instinct is still to hold back and run away.

Well, after a minute or two of pursuit and reassurance, my Wife finally relented. I had turned a simple, innocent question into a cringe-y spectacle and now it was over. I had gotten what I asked for but it didn’t feel good. In fact, the moment She walked away, I felt sick, embarrassed and sad. My Wife had written me a blank check and I wasted the opportunity to cash it. Instead I made an ass of myself. We went back to cleaning. Now I had a pit in my stomach. I wanted to try again and talk to Her but the moment was over. Instead, I took the rest of the day, sat with my feelings, nursed my bruised ego and bought a bottle of wine (for the evening, not for my ego).

That night, after the children were in bed, we settled into our room. I opened the wine and probably sat around awkwardly for a moment before re-engaging our “conversation” from that morning. I apologized for my behavior, stated my regret for wasting a genuine moment but most importantly, explained why I acted the way I did. I started the story from the beginning with my first relationship in college, the comparisons to her ex-boyfriend and the infidelity. I talked about the early years of our marriage, our struggles finding our sexual footing and my very tumultuous relationship with porn, how I used it as a crutch to avoid dealing with my issues instead of pressing deeper into our relationship. Then, I explained what a cuckold was, what it wasn’t, how porn portrays a false and negative view of what it actually is, how I had a very damaging relationship with that porn early on in our marriage and how I have come to a much better place with cuckolding now thanks to some awesome resources. She smiled, sat, listened, asked some follow-up questions and then…it was over. It was not a big deal. We went on with our evening routine of binging TV shows (probably Outlander, Maisel or Schitt’s Creek at the time). I was not shamed or judged or made to feel like a freak. I was made to feel heard and accepted. I felt more intimate and connected to Her than ever before.

The Right Direction

That night was a turning point for me. My deepest, darkest secret desire was out in the open and nothing bad happened. It was a proof of concept. I realized that all along, my worst enemy had been myself. The day that I ran away taught me that maybe I could stop running for good. There was nothing to be afraid of. I learned how wrong I had been for so many years in our marriage to run away from my Wife instead of run towards her, not just with sexual things but with anything. I knew that I had to make an honest effort to improve my self-confidence so that I didn’t slip back into my old ways again. Something had to change.

Although my interests had already shifted from more conventional porn to amateur content and real stories, it was still just a means for excitement. I wanted something more substantive, something real. Thankfully, platforms like Patreon and Twitter afforded the opportunity to connect with likeminded people for the first time. I was able to see guys just like me sharing their stories, working out who they were, owning it and loving it. Finally I started to feel validated, heard, inspired and not alone. My goal of feeling more secure in myself started to become reality. Community was the key. Today, I feel like I am still running, just in the right direction.

A Confession

If you run for long enough, eventually you will trip and fall. Last week I was typing away on our laptop, finishing up the last paragraph. Usually I write blogs on my phone but ever since the touch screen took on a mind of its own, I’ve been writing with a full keyboard (it’s nice, I might stick to it). My Wife, working on Her own project nearby, asked me was I was doing. I mumbled that I was writing. She asked what. “A post,” I said as vaguely as possible. “Are you going to publish it?” she replied. I hesitated. “You have a blog?” There was a surprised eagerness in Her voice and now we have come full-circle to another question. I know, after all the paragraphs I just wrote about honesty and transparency and the lessons learned, I still hadn’t shared my blog with my Wife. I swear that I always intended to, I was just waiting for the right moment. It’s not my fault it took so long to come.

“I want to see it!” I shot her down. “Come on, let me see!” It hurt inside as I said no again. To my credit, I was in bed still recovering from being sick and not feeling very playful. This was not the right moment I had been waiting for. If I’m being honest though, I’m not sure when that right moment would have come. I was using it as an excuse because, once again, old habits die hard. I was giving in to my fear yet again. Finally I confessed that yes, I do have a blog, it’s called Cuckold Kisses (I whispered the c-word) and it’s about my thoughts and feelings and sometimes fantasies about my sexuality. She let it go, the moment passed and that sinking feeling in my stomach returned. Later that evening I apologized for shutting down Her enthusiasm (I do see the trend and hope that someday I will learn from it) and promised that very soon, I would share it with Her. She dismissed my apology, further reinforcing how all this was not a big deal to her. It was to me though. It meant a lot to me to not fail where I had before.

A Commitment

It’s a strange feeling to want to do something and not want to at the same time. I desperately want to be brave and have radical intimacy with my Wife about everything. I want to break the habits of fear and secrecy that have defined so much of my relationship with Her. I want to take this one life and make the most of it living in freedom, not fear. At the same time, it’s scary to be vulnerable. It’s one thing to talk about fantasies, it’s another to share all the porn you watch, every picture and video you like, and every thought that you decide to write out. Maybe that’s common amongst couples, I honestly don’t know, but it’s daunting for me. However, while it’s scary to be vulnerable, hopefully very soon I’ll learn that it’s worth it. For so long, my online activity, be it on Twitter, Tumblr (RIP) or just my overall browsing history, has been my safe space, a place where I can explore my sexual desires free from judgement of others. I have to ask myself, though, why would I ever feel the need to be “safe” from my Wife, the person I’ve chosen to share life with? So you, reader, have my word that by the time you are able to read this far, the link will already be sent to Her phone. It won’t be at the perfect moment and I’ll live. I will learn to stop holding back secrets and the next time She has a question, I hope that I won’t run away.

Six Reasons Why I Love Chastity

Six Reasons Why I Love Chastity

I am sitting here writing this post while wearing my brand-new chastity cage. I remember the first time I ever saw someone wearing one online. My first impression was it was something I’d never be into. What’s the fun in sex if you can’t get off? It’s been a few years since then and a lot has changed with me. I decided to start experimenting with chastity last year and from the first time I tried it on, I loved it. However, I never put much thought into why.

After some thought, it turns out that for me there are many reasons! I hope that in addition to being a fun exercise for myself, this post might help someone else understand better, whether that be someone curious about chastity or their open-minded partner. All I can say is that if you’re even slightly interested, do some research and try it! You just might like it. So let’s get into it; here are six reasons why I love being locked up.


Despite their imposing look, most chastity devices are actually not 100% foolproof. If you have a good fit and some extra security measures in place, escaping can be a real pain but the reality is, short of a Prince Albert piercing (yikes) or catheter (double yikes), it’s possible to slip out of most ball-trap devices with enough lube and determination.

The point I am making is for me chastity is much more mental than physical. It’s an act of complete submission to another person, in this case, my wife. As long as we are playing the chastity game, my cage feels like an extension of my wedding ring. So much as my person is “owned” by her under the rules we’ve established in our marriage, so the steel ring around my balls may as well be her literal grip on me. Under our mutual agreement, she owns them to do with or without how she chooses and for me that is a wonderful feeling. So I might be able to physically escape my cage if I absolutely wanted to, but why would I want to? As a submissive man, my wife’s approval means everything to me. Avoiding her inevitable disappointment in me breaking the rules we set is all the motivation I need to keep going.

I have self-locked as well and that can cater to the rest of the reasons below, but I started with the topic of submission on purpose. This is the primary driver of so much of my sexuality. In order to be satisfied to my fullest potential, I need to submit to her. Surrendering my orgasms, pleasure and even erections entirely under the control of my wife is one of the most powerful expressions of submission I can think of. It’s ownership on a deeper level, as if I am placing my most intimate parts in her hand to take and not let go.


I crave being sexually teased and denied. It excites my whole body, but more so my mind. Naturally, being locked up enhances that play to an extreme. Not being able to get a simple erection is only the beginning; many other sweet tortures could await, such as her tongue prodding through the openings of the cage or her ready pussy grinding on me, so close yet so far away, all the while the key to my freedom dangling teasingly around her neck. After a long sex session focused entirely on her pleasure, she could lovingly pat my denied penis and take even more satisfaction in stretching my discipline one more night.

She would not be the only one sexually satisfied though. If sex is just an orgasm scoreboard then yes, I just lost. However sex for me is much more than that; it’s something deep inside my head. I’m like any other guy. My penis craves fucking and cumming and feels frustrated when it can’t, but when it finally gets what it wants, the fun is over. The drive to pursue my wife is, at least for the moment, gone. My body is void of all the sexual anticipation that was there before. Thankfully, the wires in my brain take frustration, desire, tease, denial and synthesize them all into sexual pleasure. In not getting an orgasm that night, I would be sexually satisfied. Instead, we’d focus on connecting emotionally, the drive for me still there. We’d cuddle, talk and touch in other ways, fulfilling my emotional and intimate needs. We’d go to sleep closer than we were before, all because I gave my wife the decision of my release and she said no.

My frustrated, desperate, leaking penis and aching balls become her handiwork. Every time my excitement starts to rise, the steel ring starts to feel tighter, my penis starts to fill with nowhere to go and presses tight in all directions, my entire groin embodies burning pressure and it’s as if my wife is saying “No, not yet.” The sensation turns my focus back to her. I enjoy denial because it makes me feel like I belong to, the one denying me, my wife, and that she owns me. I love that feeling.


Few bonds are more powerful than that of a man’s with his penis. Becoming excited and erect, stroking, fucking and finally ejaculating are core to the male experience. I can speak from experience that removing all of those things does something to my male psyche. It removes me from a common experience shared by all men and that turns out to be a very powerful emasculation tool. In case it isn’t clear by now, I love being made to feel that way.

There’s something powerfully humiliating about hearing other men at the urinals while you sit in the stall because you have no other choice. Watching porn changes into something completely different too. Whereas before every image of an erect penis being sucked or fucked was a fantasy of potential, now it is only a brutal reminder of something you can’t do. His thick, throbbing erection is just a reminder of how sexually unviable I am compared to him in my current state. Every lick and stroke screams “Not for you” and makes me feel like I’m looking in at a party through the window from outside, and while that might sound sad, it feels amazing because that is where my partner put me. Perhaps I might even spy her with someone else!

Being caged for any period of time changes your relationship with your penis to the point that it’s almost as if you don’t have one. You kind of forget what it’s like to get hard and masturbate and that just makes the eventual release that much more satisfying. It’s a re-discovery of manhood again and it feels significantly better after a period of zero stimulation at all. As someone who also likes small penis humiliation, I enjoy that chastity keeps me even smaller than I’d normally be. I like that in a cage, my penis is truly useless. That will bring the strongest of men to their knees.


Simply put, I just enjoy the feeling of the cage on me. It does take the body some getting used to for the first few times. Use lube or lotion around the ring in the beginning to prevent burning and chafing on the skin. However, once your body adapts and the slight discomfort subsides, chastity is nothing but comfortable (unless you want to make it otherwise). I enjoy the snug sensation that I feel around my penis when it tries to get excited, especially how it presses at the end. The majority of time locked up though is spent soft, leaving nothing but the weight of the device which I find satisfying.

Aesthetic is important for me too and played a large part in what I selected for my first steel cage (pictured). My favorite elements about it are the solid section on the bottom and the shape of the hole in the front which is just striking to me. My favorite view of any cage is always the front, where the partially-obscured “face” of my penis peeks out from. My preference is to have this be the only part visible, however a totally-enclosed design presents hygiene issues in the hot climate I live in. The cage I wear now is a balance of coverage and breathable that I’m satisfied with.


I like having a dirty little secret, don’t you? The fact is that having something different on under your clothes that no one else knows about is exciting. I like seeing how I look in the mirror with just my cage on. It’s like a unique and interesting piece of jewelry that makes a statement, even if it’s just to myself. It’s not why I do it, but the fact that it makes me feel a little different, maybe even a little out there, is something I enjoy. Decoupling my penis from my manhood is an interesting experiment as well. If getting off to your wife’s escapades with others is a male taboo, then I think letting your wife control your penis is in a similar vein – no pun intended!


Chastity doesn’t have to be all fun and games – there are practical benefits too! I love sex a lot and think about sexuality a lot but this can be problematic when my mind should be somewhere else. There are times when I can focus for a few days without release but others when a two or three times per day binge is not uncommon. There’s no other way to say it: it’s cheap “sex” driven more by boredom and procrastination than anything else. The people who end up paying for it in time is my family, especially my wife. So when I hand her the key, it might just be for fun, accountability, or both. No matter what the priority is though, not having unfettered access to look at porn and masturbate multiple times per day undoubtedly gives me more focus and makes my life better. I’m more present with my family, more driven to be attentive to my wife and even have more energy.

All Locked Up

Chastity is incredibly versatile. It can be a sweet and playful game; a kinky power exchange; spicy humiliation play; just straight-up practical; or any combination of these! If you’re curious about trying it, I encourage you to explore in a way that’s right for you! If you already enjoy playing with chastity, I’d love to hear your own take on it. Have fun and happy locking!

How are Cuckold Brains Made?

How are Cuckold Brains Made?

“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. 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 cuckolding 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.

What’s a Cuckold?

What’s a Cuckold?

Good question! 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, let’s address the question at hand.

The first appearance of “cuckold” was in a poem The Owl and the Nightingale from about 1250; it was also used often by Shakespeare. It referred to a man who’s wife was being unfaithful to him, usually unaware. It was a brand worthy of ridicule. As for the strangeness of the word itself, it stems from the sneaky sexual practices of the cuckoo bird (seriously). In modern terms, the definition has changed to describe a consensual one-sided open relationship in which the wife is free to sleep with other men while her husband remains sexually faithful to her and, this is the key, they both love it that way (credit to Cuckoldress Venus for the succinct definition).

Are you a cuckold? No. My wife and I are happily married but not in a cuckold relationship. At first I wondered what I could possibly have to say here besides exploring my fantasies. However, playing with other men is only a fraction of what makes up cuckolding, just like sex in any relationship. It’s also the day-to-day dynamic of husband and wife that defines their life and love. Their relationship will always be the bedrock on which any other activities stand. To me “cuckold” represents an orientation of service, deference and worship of your wife, desiring for her to experience the most sexual excitement and pleasure possible, even if it isn’t always with you. I feel those things embedded in my sexuality, so while my wife doesn’t cuck me, I embrace all the goodness in what the word stands for.

On a personal note, I’m just a normal guy. 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-traditional sexuality, it’s probably for the best to keep it that way.

Why the blog? To be honest, I’ve been inspired. For years my 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, explore, grow, maybe even 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, secure enough to celebrate as much pleasure as she wants to have. 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 even cuckold fantasies, my wife has been nothing but understanding and supportive. Personally, I want to get serious and keep moving forward towards a female-led 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!