A few months ago, I stumbled across evidence that I could be, in fact, a cuckold, and may have been one of up to 18 months.
If this were a fantasy blog, here would follow a tale of investigation, arousal, and revelation. This is not a fantasy blog.
I hurt.
I felt betrayed. I felt that the woman I’d shared my life with for the last decade was not who she said she was. This was not a fantasy. This was a nightmare.
Let me take a step back here. Whatever impression this blog may have given over the years, we’re not actually a cuckolding couple. We are both excited by the fantasy, and have played with it as an idea, but we made the joint decision a long time ago that the infidelity was a barrier we wouldn’t cross. So, as you could imagine, this discovery was initially shocking – it knocked the wind out of me. I was upset. I felt betrayed. I was driven on a roller-coaster ride of emotions. And yet, as the days passed until I could confront my wife about this, I began to be able to seperate my feelings out a little more.
I was hurting, and I was hurting because she was lying to me, and hiding things from me. I was hurting because I felt that I’d been a trusting fool and had been betrayed. I was angry because at least one of the possible candidates for her infidelity was a man for whom that would have been an appealing, but ultimately cruel, decision. But, uncomfortably sitting with this, was genuine arousal at the thought that she’d been with someone else. That cuckold fantasy, the darker, more extreme part of my femdom leanings, was genuine. I was turned on by my wife fucking someone who wasn’t me.
I confronted her. And she proved, conclusively, that I was misreading things. She was faithful, I was wrong, and I learnt a little more about how she thinks in the process. I can genuinely say that we grew as a couple as a result of this.
But I’m left more uncomfortable with myself as a result. I’ve discovered that the idea of being a cuckold, of my wife taking others is more than just a fantasy idea for me, it’s something that I could enjoy. And in a sense, that’s left me less comfortable with the fantasy than before. I now know that I do have it in me to be a cuckold. That I could cope with my wife screwing other people. The our marriage, that my life, could potentially walk that path.
But do I really want that?