Further TOG pondering

I wasn’t going to write my previous post last night for fear it would rev me up too much to sleep afterward but it was pretty clear I was already too revved up for that. Beyond just the normal excess RPMs spinning around after getting Belle off just before bed, the conversation about the other guy (now officially TOG) kept bouncing around in my head and I had to get it out. Reading it now, it seems a little rushed and messy, but it does a good job capturing my state of mind at the time. Actually, it’s still kind of my state of mind, though I have had some time to reflect. 

“Compersion” is a word that, essentially, means the opposite of jealousy. Instead of finding discomfort or anger or sadness when one’s partner has sex or finds love with someone else, you experience happiness and feel good for them. I am compersioned as fuck. During the night, I kept reaching over to her and holding her or just letting part of me touch her. This morning, I couldn’t just give her a quick morning peck. I need to kiss her full on the lips, open and wet. Hold her. Put my face in her neck and purr. I am completely and totally smitten by her.

The challenge I’ve had is remembering what this is about and who it’s about. If she ends up meeting TOG and getting fucked by him, that’s all her. Her choice, her pleasure. Not really about me at all. But excitement at the prospect of it almost forces my mind to race away and spin fantasy scenarios. I imagine how the prospect and reality of their sex would change how she treats me. What she needs and expects from me. I imagine someday meeting him and the things he’d say and ask. In relationships where denial or chastity are involved (any kind of femdom, really) it’s important for the man to give his partner as much room as possible to make for herself what the dynamic needs to be for her. In doing do, he’ll enjoy an authentic dynamic they both get something from even if it’s not the fantasy life he created in his head. That same approach needs to be taken here by me. Yes, I have vivid ideas about the hottest way possible for this next chapter to unfold, but those ideas aren’t as good as the real thing because it will be real so the real thing needs to develop. Too bad August is so far away. 

Also, I don’t want to create a situation where she needs to live up to my fantasy. I certainly don’t want her thinking about how I’ll react to whatever transpires. To be factoring in my expectations. There’s enough pressure involved in meeting a new person and finding a way to pleasurably interact without thinking about the hopes and dreams of the locked up sub back home. 

I wonder if the ability to feel compersion is something that’s hard wired in some people or if it’s something that’s made possible because of other factors. I know about myself that I am suited to an open relationship and even polyamory. I just am not that jealous. At least, in me whatever jealousy I feel channels into productive kinds of things. But I’m also pretty confident in myself. Confident in my place in Belle’s life. Even if Belle and TOG fuck and even if Belle finds herself having deeper feelings for him, I don’t for a second think that would lead to problems between us. I would be happy for her and figure out a way to make room for whatever followed. Whatever my need is to feel what it’s like for her to be with another man, it’s not driven by an inferiority complex. I want to hear and know he’s got a nice cock and knows how to use it and even that she likes it better than me, but I know that’s a single aspect of our relationship and I have another attributes. In fact, I’d say the perceived competition drives me to accentuate those areas. In any event, my theory is jealously is driven by insecurity and I’m simply not insecure about too many things.

It’s all very complicated and I’m still figuring it out. How can I say I don’t have an inferiority complex but want her to be with a guy whose got a bigger cock? How can I get so excited by the idea TOG has said he wants to give her better sex than she can have with me? I’m not insecure but totally get off on being made sexually inferior. I don’t know the answers. More of those knotty BDSM paradoxes, I guess. 

The sleeping was quite difficult last night. Too many thoughts and visions. Too many explicit visualizations literally forcing themselves into my attempt so find peace. I don’t know that the penis was less than half chubbed out all night and it was forcefully pressing against its containment on several occasions. I’d hear my heart pounding in my ears as the enormity of the reality of Belle taking a lover presented itself again and again. Eventually I popped a melatonin, but even then I only got two or three hours sleep. 

Today, the Homeland Threat Level chart of my horniness never really dropped below orange. I had a hard time following along in meetings and, in between, I’d pop over to Tumblr and look at the bodies. The images of men fucking women were especially transfixing. I had the feeling all day of wanting to share news with friends at work before remembering they likely wouldn’t appreciate it. It felt not too dissimilar from what I remember on that day following the first time Belle didn’t let me come during sex. Energized. Horny. Alive. 

I have so many things I want to ask Belle. So many more details I crave. I loved hearing her be so frank about the apparent differences between TOG and me. Her expectations and hopes. How she didn’t hide her anticipation. Hopefully I won’t bug her too much. Hopefully I won’t combust every time the topic comes up. Hopefully I’ll get more than a few hours sleep each night between now and her trip to meet him.

The other guy

A couple of months ago on a Saturday or Sunday morning, Belle laughed and told me she had received a random friend request from some guy in England. They had no mutual friends and she had no idea who he was but, on a lark, she accepted the request. Shortly thereafter, they struck up a conversation along the lines of, “Who’s this?” and “I dunno, who’s this?” He said he didn’t remember requesting to be her friend and maybe meant to friend someone else with the same last name (her maiden name) and he had been at the pub and, well, you know how things happen. 

Their exchange continued beyond that day. He told her he thought she was hot. Things got more flirty from there. At some point, he sent her a picture of himself naked but with his hand covering his junk. I really don’t know the sequence of events since I was in my funk and not really picking up the little hints she was dropping, but I totally picked up the hints tonight. And then I carted them off with a wheelbarrow.

We were in bed and I asked her what was up with this guy. She said he was going to be in the United States this summer and she was planning on meeting him in NYC in August and maybe again in September. This made me squirm into her. I have been unbelievably, surreally horny all day and all I could think about even before having this conversation was her pussy and making it come. I reached my hand into her pajamas and slipped a finger into her ready wetness.

She told me he’s twenty-seven. She told him she’s in an open relationship. He told her he’s got thick 7.5″ cock. What she called a “proper cock.” She told me he likes to talk dirty. That he’s confident. That he intends to fuck her with that cock in New York. He described the ways and the positions in which he intends to fuck her silly. He says he will give her the fuck of her life. The kind of fuck she’s never had from me. The kind she can’t get from me. He says it’s his goal for her to prefer him to me in bed. All he knows about me, besides that I’m married to her, is that he’s much bigger than me. That’s it. But he’s naturally assumed a position over me even before meeting her. He may not know the word or understand the dynamic, but he’s already made me a cuckold.

All the time she was saying these things to me, my finger slipped in and out and over her slick clit. The penis was pushing against the Looker 02 as strongly as I’ve ever felt it. Choking on the device’s insert. It was painful. She got wetter and wetter telling me how he was equipped to give her a real fuck and that he’d undoubtedly last much longer than me and fill her in ways I couldn’t and that yes indeed she expected he could deliver on his promise all I could do was whine and finger her pussy and think how it would feel after he was done with her. How it would feel to her as it stretched her open like I can’t and touched her in places I’ll never reach. How he’d be able to go again and again and never get caught up in his own head and just fuck. And how badly — how honestly achingly badly — I want that for her. 

Equal parts of me are hopeful and afraid that he will do what he says and deliver on his promises. That she will be fucked like never before and that she’ll prefer him to me that way. It is both terrifying and exhilarating to comprehend. But more than anything, I want it for her. I want her to come home from her visit with him fucked so hard she couldn’t have sex with me even if she wanted to. For when the time comes that she’d let me touch her pussy again, or even enter it, I’d want to know that not only am I not the only one to enjoy it but that she enjoyed him more. Was craving to feel him there again, not me.

I cannot explain this. How it goes against everything we’re taught and conditioned to believe and expect in a relationship but how it absolutely fills me with ecstatic excitement, for her and me.

I can’t say I ever really believed something like this would happen. That she’d never really do anything with anyone else. And a lot can happen between now and summer. Who knows. Regardless, what I know now is that I’m not only not hurt or bothered by the prospect, I’m enthusiastically hopeful for her success. The only thing that makes me wary is I don’t know this guy. I don’t want her to be hurt. I don’t want her to be treated poorly. That’s my only concern. 

I also used I think that if something like this did eventually happen that I’d want to be part of it. But that doesn’t matter to me. Of course, I am part of it since she’s my wife and I’m her sub, but I won’t be physically part of it. Chances are I’ll never set eyes on this guy. If she sees him and fucks him it’ll be a thousand miles away, out of sight and entirely out of my control. And, it turns out, I’m really OK with that. What I want is for her to have a great time. I want her to feel free to do whatever she wants with him and enjoy the space she has to maximize her pleasure. To dote and spoil him and leave him wanting more. I realize that in that way, I’m not part of it. And I don’t need to be. 

As I sucked her tits and rubbed her snatch and felt her hips grind and heard the moans deep in her throat, I realized she probably wasn’t thinking about me. That she was already in some New York hotel room with the fat cock and her orgasm was already his. I wanted to fuck her so badly then. More than I have in I don’t know how long. But of course, no. No way. So my stifled erection was pinched and squeezed and choked and the device leaked useless natural lube while my heart pounded in my head. 

Oh, fucking hell.