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. The Shreds of Marriage

Discussion in 'Cuckold Stories' started by Lutheran Maid, May 18, 2017.

The Shreds of Marriage 4.5 5 2votes
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  1. Lutheran Maid

    Lutheran Maid Well-Known Member Author!

    You all know more than me, least ways if you read this blog a lot, especially if you post on it. I didn't know what a cuckold was, i didn't understand that a woman could enjoy dominating one man and going with another. I didn't know that some men became aroused dominating a husband in front of his wife. Frankly, it was all startlingly base, terribly raw. I have had to read a lot and learn a great deal more. I know that what you have here are stories, fantasies, but honestly, they still taught me a lot. About sex in a way that i never dreamed of.

    My wife Cheryl started to have an affair with one of our friends. He's a married man and apparently his wife is pretty submissive about his tastes. She accepts that he fucks other women. In fact, she accepts that Cheryl has become his mistress. I don't think that she believes she could ever compete with her.

    I was gutted when i first realised that Cheryl was 'seeing' Dave. What an innocuous word, 'seeing'. It doesn't really cover what happens does it? I learned about the affair through a mutual friend. Lucy is in the same church as us and she very anxiously told me one day that the badminton partnership between Cheryl and Dave was more than i seemed. I could see that sharing this was very very difficult for Lucy, she doesn't tittle tattle. But she thought that I would want to rescue my marriage. Cheryl had been dating Dave for several months, evenings when I thought that she was going off with other wives in a book club. Lucy was blushing, this was all so distasteful. But she thought that i should check for myself how Cheryl looked at Dave. Lucy was sure that she was in love with him.

    For the next three or four weeks that was what I did. I found an excuse to discretely watch from the gallery when Cheryl and Dave played in a badminton tournament. Watching him kiss her on court made me wince. Listening to their playful teasing talk rattled me. But the thought that he was actually making love to her, that he was putting his dick inside her, that made me feel almost physically sick! Watching my wife I realised with a crushing finality that i didn't understand women. i understood souls, I warmed to emotions, i believed in marriage, I just never guessed that a woman could want sex in the ways that seemed intimated in their looks towards one another. I watched the way that she touched him. Little gestures, but any excuse to touch. I hadn't seen women like that. I hadn't seen them as active sexual participants. If i'm honest, sex between Cheryl and I had been limited anyway. We had both been brought up in strict, devout families to see sex as necessary but really rather sordid. You didn't speak about it, you didn't savour it, you didn't celebrate it. I know that all of you do. I know that this seems inept, naive, I'm sorry.

    Dave could have shredded our marriage. I saw how much control he had over my wife. She would leave me for him no matter what that meant for our reputation within our church. She was on the edge. At any moment she might say goodbye. I imagined that it would be a tearful matter, but now, latterly, i realise that was wrong. Once sex takes hold, once it gets inside your brain as a woman, and you know you have to be with that man in his chosen way, you don't feel remorse. If i had to be got rid of, then so be it. If David's wife had to be humiliated, then so be it. But back then, the realisation time, i didn't know that. I thought, and you may think me silly, I had to find a thread, a single thread by which I could keep something with Cheryl. I had to find something that would reserve some small purpose for my existence in her life. I shudder thinking about now. But try if you can to imagine it. The thought of being pushed out into the wilderness.

    When Dave started seeing Cheryl he awakened an interest in fashion within her. She was never a frump you understand, but with him she wanted more fashion. Her new taste was in expensive, very smart and tailored clothes. She discovered designer labels. I knew that she was dressing to please him, but my first desperate was simply about clothes, to please her by giving her money and asking her to indulge the pleasure. I'll never forget the night she showed off her new designer jeans and a leather jacket she had bought to go over them. Can you really spend £200 on a pair of jeans and £600 on a leather jacket? Any way, I imagined her asking whether I thought Dave would like her in these? She didn't, but your mind plays tricks. She wore the new things the next time she met Dave to discuss badminton tournament plans.

    Clothes were never the thread though. All they would do would be to fuel their fucking. What a coarse word. I felt an idiot spending the money that way. She spent £3000 on clothes in a month. No, Cheryl wasn't going to stay with me out of gratitude for presents. I had to signal something about them. If i couldn't get rid of him (a desperate fantasy), then I had to beg an accommodation. I looked up 'cuckold'. I read about it. I read about it here and about what cuckolds sometimes did. Would Cheryl let me be her cuckold in that intimate physical sense? Would she tolerate me in a 'sort of' subsidiary way, when she was so enthralled with him? I didn't know, and honestly, it terrified me. I could never hit another man, nor a woman, so i had to present myself in some light about this. It sickened me. It depressed me. I didn't sleep well. She was going out with him even more, on one pretence or other. Lucy was beside herself with anxiety about us.

    It was on a Friday night. I go out to a theatre group then, but before I left, I found Cheryl. She was making her face up and looked so pretty. My heart was racing like mad. I felt as though it would stumble, i would feint, something. I said,

    'I'm pleased that you're seeing David…I accept that'.

    You talk in code. At least I did. We did. She answered,

    'Good. What time will you be back this evening?'

    I said around ten, after rehearsals. It was the usual home time. Cheryl studied me,

    'Go for a drink with them, I don't want you home before eleven, understood?'

    I gulped down a breath. It was like the room was almost a vacuum. There was no air!

    'Yes, of course…see you later then' I managed.

    I drove to the theatre group, my hands trembling. It was the thought of him in our bed. It was the thought of him fucking her. it was the thought of instinct winning over devotion. Our vows meant nothing. She had to have him. She was his. My eyes filled with tears and I shook my head to clear my vision and force myself to think straight. Look, I said to myself, she didn't shout at you. She didn't blow up. There is hope, there is hope.

    I got back to the house at nearer twenty past than eleven. Cheryl had changed from her going out things into a short silk wrap. I realised that he could only have left a short time ago. She seemed aroused, irritable, excited, and there was a scent in the room. I know it now and you do too. You knew it before me. The scent of coupling. A musky, a salty, earthy smell that it is hard to describe. Cheryl had decided to brazen the change out, to pretend that our brief conversation meant nothing. It was perhaps too vulgar to talk about him fucking her. Back then, it had to be a different compartment, a locked room in our house, one at the dark and cobwebbed top of the stairs. But she looked stunning. I mean stunning, underlined and in forty font. I had never realised how other a man can make a woman look after he has fucked her well. It is as if he has lifted her some place high and you stare at her in wonder. Of course you want him. Of course you need him. He makes you like this. He makes you a woman in some way I could only dream about. I stared at her, awe struck.

    I couldn't let the moment pass. I wanted to protect the last thread left. It was what i had read about here, within what you all talk about so freely.

    'Please, I beg you, I need to show you its OK'.

    I stuttered the words out and I dropped to my knees. I did it so fast that she couldn't stop me. The look of alarm on her face though, it was obvious.

    I begged,

    'Please Cheryl, go on seeing him. Please let me show you I accept that.'

    I pushed my face towards her sex. i must have looked like an oaf. No, a pervert. That was how i thought. that was what I imagined she thought. We never understood the complexities of what you all know. She pushed me away. My heart plummeted.

    'That's disgusting, don't' she hissed.

    I started to cry. I didn't want that. I didn't want it. My eyes just filled.

    She watched me. There was no consoling touch of hand, no cuddle or apology. She stood above me and watched me shake with the sobs.

    'I will do anything to play some small part in your life. I want you to have what you need…what you deserve' i pleaded.

    Was she understanding all this? Nothing in her expression offered a clue.

    'I bought you the clothes so that you could feel right with him. You are so beautiful, he has made you more beautiful still…'

    I tried again. Just a gesture forward with my head. No more. I moved gently, tentatively towards her bush. It peeped at me beneath the hem of her short wrap. My wife didn't move. Her mouth opened. her hand touched my hair. Just a single touch.

    I touched her sex, through the silk of the wrap. It was a momentary pressure.

    She let me.

    I looked up at her. Now her expression was of wonder too. She seemed surprised by my eagerness. There was curiosity too.

    I gestured again, my mouth, kissing first the silk and then easing the material aside, her sex. There was semen in the curls of her hair. Thick, sticky beads of semen. I licked them. They tasted of salt. I grimaced, and hiding my face from hers, I swallowed. Cheryl didn't move. She felt that, she must have. She waited. So I lowered my head a little lower and now i licked the white and creamy mess from off the top of her sex.

    I felt her shudder. A little gasp escaped her lips.

    I hated myself. i loathed myself. But here, now, this moment, there was a thread. I licked her sex more fully, running my tongue up through the soft folds of her womanhood, tasting him on her. As my tongue stroked up i felt the hardness at the top. Her clitoris, something they told me about, long ago, at school, when i was young.

    'Don't be ashamed, please don't be ashamed, please let me do this….I adore you' I whispered.

    'You disgust me' she repeated quietly.

    Of course I did. I must have. But oh Cheryl, how i needed that thread. i needed some small, tenuous hope. So I licked her again and this time, thank goodness, she pressed back against me. I felt her hand reach down through my hair, tighten on my mane and pull me hard to her.

    'Lick it' she breathed.

    'Yes, please, oh god mistress, please, let me….' I gasped.

    'Lick it all up' she moaned.

    'Yes, thank you, thank you' I groaned, holding on, touching as though it might break in an instant, the thread between us.
     
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