The Making Of A Cuckold

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I didn’t have a religious upbringing. I didn’t have a horrible childhood. I was, however, exposed to sex at a young age. Was my exposure to sexual content at such a young age my reason for becoming a cuckold? No. Like many men, my journey into cuckolding began with love.

I was eighteen years old and was in a, what I thought at the time to be, long-term relationship with a girl of a similar age. We were high school sweethearts. My entire foundation for what I thought relationships should be had been developed during that period.

For much of our adolescent relationship we were inseparable. While I was secure in our relationship, she was evolving into someone else. She desired attention from other men. When I wasn’t around, she sought the attention of whoever would give it. Unfortunately for me, the attention she was seeking was from one of my closest friends.

I found the two of them behind fogged glass in a restaurant parking lot one late August evening. I was distraught. I felt fear, anger, hatred and even sadness. I banged on the windows of the locked vehicle over and over again. She felt none of those things. She was happy to see all those emotions swirling around my face just beyond the fogged windows.

I ended the relationship there–or so I imagined in my head.

A few terrible days had passed and she contacted me to apologize. She wanted to get back together and I was madly in love and willing to forgive anything to make the pain go away. I accepted her proposition without question.

Over the course of the next few months, we continued dating the way we had. I should say, I continued dating the way we had. There were days that I could not account for her whereabouts. Days she should be working but wasn’t at work. I drove around our small town endlessly looking for her and knew all along where I’d find her. She was with him, of course. As I approached the driveway to the apartment complex where he lived, I found a little blue Volkswagen Jetta in a parking spot I had known all too well. After all, I would park there back when we were friends.

My adolescent emotions were in a constant whirlwind. We finally ended it in one big explosive breakup.

I spent the next two years in pain. That pain was all I could think about. It ruled me and I willingly allowed it. I consumed the pain and pain consumed me.

That’s when my ascent into cuckolding truly began.



My thoughts were always there. What was she doing with him now? Did she do this thing with him? I always loved it when she did that. What was their first time like? Does she love him? Is he bigger than me? Does she love him? Does he treat her bad? Does she love him? Is he better in bed than I am? Does she love him?

As my addiction to the pain was at its precipice, I met my now wife, Mae. This was an entirely new relationship for me and I attempted to bring a clean mental state into it.

I didn’t realize it yet, but Mae was the most beautiful woman I ever laid eyes on.

Mae and I met at work. Our African-American boss had been trying to get us together for about a year but I was always too nervous to talk with her. It turns out that our boss was simply trying to live vicariously through me. He was sexually attracted to Mae and never missed an opportunity to discuss it.

After about a year of dating, we moved in together. After a short while, the fantasy started creeping in. Ironically, about the same time I started falling in love with her. It was gentle at first. Remembering back on how our boss had wanted her so badly. At first, I tried to keep the fantasy away from her in my mind because I thought she deserved better than that. However, that quickly became not enough and I eventually dove headfirst into interracial cuckolding. I couldn’t get enough.

With these unchecked, and untold, desires came extreme jealousy. She couldn’t wear leggings in public because people could see what kind of panties she had on. I also didn’t want her wearing low cut shirts that would reveal her breasts. Conversations with other men? Forget about it. I was angry and jealous all the time. During this time, she met a friend who had a former NFL player as a personal trainer. Mae wanted to workout with her friend in the mornings and approached me about it. I was absolutely terrified. Was my fantasy finally going to play out? No. I continued keeping it inside.

After several years, I finally worked up the courage to tell her. The feeling you get when you tell the love of your life every dirty fucking secret contained within your dirty fucking mind is truly liberating. You feel like you can take on the world and accomplish anything–especially when they accept you for who you are. You also wish that other couples could experience the same feelings.

That conversation was six years ago to the month. Since then, she has entertained my fantasies and explored my desires. I think deep-down she also found the idea intriguing. At the time, we were not ready to engage in the lifestyle, so she did whatever she could to entertain my fantasies. We started listening to podcasts like Keys and Anklets with Michael C. She researched everything she could about the lifestyle and even entertained the idea for awhile. Ultimately, we were not yet ready. We had to work on our relationship and our family first.



My favorite part about the cuckolding dynamic is how much we love and worship our wives. For me, worship services started around the same time as our initial conversation. You start to notice the little things. Her smile. Her laugh. Her legs. Her feet. Her ass. Her breasts. Her sexy, curly hair. All of it. The desire for her is endless and the only thing you can think of is sharing her with the world. What other men can say that about their wives?To love them so much that they want others to appreciate her as well.

For a while, we went by the name taboocouplenextdoor on tumblr. She showed parts of herself to the world that had been previously reserved for me. It was a rush to sit back and watch the best and worst of men talk about her. She didn’t realize it at the time, but she was a goddess.

Like so many around the world, 2020 hit us hard. We started by moving across country. Our beloved dog passed away. The threat of death was constantly being reiterated by the media and politicians. Friendly gatherings were at an absolute minimum. Conditions for child rearing were at an all time low. Naturally, our desire for intimacy tanked. A week in between sex became two. Before we even realized it, we were only having sex once a month–if that. My fantasies were taking hold and she wasn’t interested. I built a wall and retreated to the comfort of my thoughts.



A few weeks ago, we had a very intimate play session together. The next day, I sent her a text from my office asking how she was. I was sent a screenshot of her lock screen showing a podcast she was listening to. It was Cuckoldress Venus’s podcast on interracial cuckolding. My heart sprang to life. I quickly searched for the podcast and listened to it myself. I had to know what she was listening to and how it made her feel. We talked that night for hours.

She was finally ready. We were finally ready. Or so we thought. The next day we setup various dating accounts. Our inboxes were immediately flooded with men dying to fuck my wife. We chatted with them and sexted them. Within 48 hours, we found a decent guy to meet up with. The problem with meetups is the lack of babysitters. I told her to go alone and I’ll watch the kids. We agreed on what could and couldn’t happen. After all, this was a simple bookstore date. What could possibly happen?

Watching the love of my life leave our home to meet with another man was one of the hardest things I have ever done. Period. I obsessively watched the “Find my” app to track her progress. In the bookstore she went. Out of the bookstore she came. My heart pounding out of its chest. Behind the bookstore she went. I was distraught with emotion.

And finally, a call. “It was just awkward touching,” she said. “You’ll get the video.” And it was awkward. The most awkward touching I have ever seen. Behind the bookstore was a partially-dense wooded area where my wife was actually exposing herself to this man in public. The term man is used loosely because the late twenty-something boy she was with was just that–a boy.

We laughed at the experience and chalked it up as a hilarious failure. One down, will there be any more to go?

We kept searching and after only a few more days we found a guy. He was respectful, attractive, engaging, and playing my wife’s emotions like a skilled pianist. She was beginning to become insatiable. We continued speaking with him for two weeks. During this exciting time, Mae and I fell in love all over again.

For most of our relationship, our quality time consisted of an episode of television every night before bed. This was no longer the case. The television was still on but only to drown out our conversations and fantasies. We were both insatiable and our love for each other was only growing stronger. All the bullshit from 2020 finally being pushed out of our minds and with this newly-discovered space we filled it with wildest fantasies and passion.

Watching your wife become the desire of other men can be exhilarating. What’s more exhilarating is watching a sexually-suppressed woman rapidly evolve into a woman who craves sex. One who is open to all the possibilities the world has to offer and wants to share those experiences as a couple. I know that no matter how much fun she has out there, I will always be home to her.

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