Month: August 2022

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Cluck cluck, cuck

There are a few basic facts that have led me to a place in my life where I want Belle to cuck me.

  1. Being kept in permanent enforced chastity has kicked into hyperdrive my natural submissive nature of seeking sexual pleasure and satisfaction for Belle without regard to my own. Effectively, my pleasure and satisfaction has been replaced with hers.
  2. Belle likes to be fucked. And her preference regarding the cock that fucks her is one that’s thicker/bigger than the one I can offer when I’m not locked up.
  3. Being kept in permanent enforced chastity has destroyed my sexual stamina. When I’m allowed to fuck her, I ejaculate in approximately 90 seconds.

Basically, she deserves to have the kind of sex she enjoys and I want her to have it. It’s as simple as that.

Or is it?

Thing is, there are other factors. Factors I’m sure any other guy with a cuck fantasy can relate to. I just cannot imagine anything hotter than the image of her getting fucked by another guy better than I can fuck her. Her enjoying the cock of another guy more than she enjoys mine. The other guy knowing she’s with him because I don’t measure up to her needs or exceptions like he does. The feelings imagining such an event are intensely, intoxicatingly, surreally potent to me. My ultimate sexual fantasy is, in essence, that my wife have the best fuck of her life and for it not to be from me.

And the reality of that comes into conflict with the first point above. Her pleasure and satisfaction is more important than mine. But in this case, my fantasy is so powerful that it clouds my judgment. Tricks me into thinking or behaving in ways that are actually about me and what I want instead of her and what she wants.

I mention this because the other day, when I was away on a work trip, Belle travelled to meet a guy she’s been communicating with for some time. There was the possibility that she’d fuck him and I had somehow found a way to kind of block the potentiality of that from my mind for the several months I’ve known about it. But then the fateful weekend came and it started to consume me. Pretty much every moment my thoughts weren’t engaged elsewhere, they went to what Belle was doing or about to do or had done. Images in my head of the things I want. And the constant tempering of those fantasies with the reality that she had told me nothing was for certain and that they may only hang out a bit and have a meal, etc.

The night of their meeting, I was a wreck. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t stop thinking, couldn’t contain my cuck anxiety. I kept looking at her location on my phone and trying to discern things from it. Was she moving? Was she someplace different than before? Was that where she said she was staying or was it somewhere else? I’d go from imagining all kinds of explicit things that made me tight as fuck to the exact opposite where they met and it went horribly for some reason. I found myself in a spot I have never been before. A position I can’t even think of a word for. I was worried about her encounter and wanted it to be as enjoyable as made sense for her with no negativity or downside but I was 100% unable to do a damned thing. Had no control or influence over it. She really was outside our dynamic as a couple and I couldn’t help at all, though I wanted to, badly.

When I first encountered the concept of being cuckolded online it was one of those things that scared me because of how powerfully my body reacted to the notion. And how taboo the idea was based on literally everything our culture beats into us from the moment of our birth regarding how loving relationships are supposed to work. And in those early days, when I fantasized about being a cuck, I was always somehow part of the action. Being made/allowed to watch or something. In reality, I find that my natural instinct is to stay away. To keep out of it. To give her space and room to explore and discover. It was a process to admit to myself that the reality is being cucked really has nothing to do with me at all. Like every other part of our sexual relationship (honestly, every aspect of my sexual activity), she’s in charge and I’m not. But beyond that, I can’t offer her much more than moral support.

Obviously, there are lots of way to cuck a guy. Some woman are just fine with their cucks being more active participants. Some, like Belle, aren’t. I didn’t even tweet about it until just the other day and almost didn’t because, in a way, it seemed like it may have been out of bounds for me to do so. Like, that guy is part of her life, not mine, and it felt like something of an invasion of her privacy to give it my usual infinite navel-gazing treatment here and on Twitter. But ultimately, I found myself needing some friendly back-up and had no one else to go to. I had to vent somewhere else I’d explode.

But for me, the instinct was to move away from Belle and her friend, not towards them. I assumed I’d want to be in the thick of it, but the reality turned out to be quite different. It wasn’t porn, it was real life and it was tentative and fragile like any other potential relationship and the last thing Belle needed was a horned up weirdo husband blundering about in the midst of it.

In the end, Belle had a lovely time with him without anything more than spending some pleasant time together. I had worked myself up into such a state that hearing she had a good time was a massive relief. It didn’t even occur to me to be disappointed that she didn’t fuck him. And I guess that’s progress. The idea of her doing that is as potent as ever, but skirting as closely as we did to it moving from concept to reality (however close it ended up being) changed how I feel about it. It want it for her just as badly as I ever have, but now I want it for her more than I want it for me.

I’m currently reading 150 Years Of Gynarchy by Viola Voltairine and I’m finding it to be nothing short of inspirational. As I was flying home to see Belle, I came across this passage that, in a lot of ways, speaks to me regarding this episode.

In a consensual long-term D/s dynamic you have both agreed that Her needs, Her wants and Her pleasure take absolute priority. That is the framework. This is for real. It’s not a game. Your thoughts should always be on how to best please Her, not how to get your fetishes serviced.

150 Years Of Gynarchy, by Viola Voltairine

“Not how to get your fetishes serviced.” 💯 Whatever Belle decides to do with her exclusive prerogative to find other guys to fuck is not, and never will be, about me. It’s about her. Her needs, wants, and pleasure. And however she chooses to share her experiences with me is also entirely up to her. It’s not material for my fetishes and fantasies. To behave otherwise is, IMO, insulting and violates my commitment to our dynamic. I can’t control how that causes my body to react, but I have quite a lot of experience now dealing with unrealized sexual energy so have no excuses to act otherwise.

She will decide what she wants to do and I’ll be grateful she continues to be my Domme and keyholder, no matter what.

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Subsidence

My entire life, I can remember nothing but being attracted to all genders. Never, ever can I recall not finding just about anyone attractive. Even before I knew what sex was, I knew that sometimes there was another kid that made me feel funny inside. And they were always, always, always both boys and girls.

That said, it’s also always been the case that my relative attraction to one pole of the gender spectrum or the other ebbs and flows. If you imagine the Kinsey Scale and its zero to ten range where five is equally attracted to both ends, then I vacillate between three and seven. Thus has it always been. Which is to say, I’m never not attracted to either end of the gender spectrum (or, really, anything in between), but sometimes I lean more heavily one way or the other.

This was especially problematic when I was a teenager and I barely knew that “bisexual” was an option for me. All I saw around me was straight people and gay people and David Bowie. And whenever I thought, “Well, what am I going to be for the rest of my life?” (because that was the frame through which I understood sexuality), the fact that the foundation of my sexual preferences kept slipping and sliding around like Bambi on a frozen pond made me constantly struggle to know “what I was.”

You could say that that aspect of my sexuality is defined by constant, permanent flux. The variability of it is the only thing I have come to count on my entire life. So it’s really interesting to me how little variation there is in the other axis of my sexuality. I have no interest in being a sexual dominant. Zero. I am so close to being 100% submissive that if there was a Dom/sub version of the Kinsey Scale I’d identify as a zero (where, of course, the subs are the little numbers and the Doms are the bigger ones).

But, that sub energy is latent absent denial and chastity. That’s not to say I’m not a sub when I’m not denied. I have always had sex like a sub. I tend to want to bottom and I have always been focused on getting my partner off before me. I have always tended to serve, if not explicitly. But being denied the ability to have regular orgasms is like spraying lighter fluid into a campfire (not that I have ever done that nor would I encourage you to, either, if you like having things like eyebrows). If I’m not denied, I don’t become less submissive, I become more selfish. My D/s Kinsey number doesn’t go up, but my interest in expressing it wanes.

And it’s kinda weird to me how that works. My bisexuality doesn’t really change at all due to being denied. I’m way more horny all the time and find some things to be more of a turn-on when I’m denied, but my baseline preference for either end of the gender spectrum doesn’t really get impacted. My needle still bounces around on the gender gauge while it only pegs harder and harder to the left of the D/s gauge.

Heh. Pegs.

I recall when I first found chastity and the online community of people who practiced it that “you shouldn’t have to be locked up to be a good sub” was a thing that was often said. Hearing that made me feel like not a good sub since I knew I was way more into being that way the longer it had been since I last came. But, just like my variable kind of bisexuality, that’s just how I am. Since it was a topic of conversation then, in the mediaeval period of enforced male chastity, I can’t be that unusual.

This is something I’m thinking about because Belle let me fuck her for real about a week ago. And I “suffered” a massive sub drop because it’s pretty much impossible for me to put it in her anymore without blowing a load. And…I don’t know how to describe it. The pressure of denial inflates my sub persona and when one is gone the other goes and then I’m left feeling…different. It’s as if losing my sub energy is like losing access to a latent cone in my eye and suddenly a certain wavelength of color goes away for me. Until I build back a level of horniness that resurfaces my submission. It’s a part of me that’s become so familiar and dependable that its absence is keenly felt.

Luckily, all it takes to get it back is time. And a lock.