A man's second spring

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-23

Some say gray hair brings a man a second spring… well, that was exactly my case. When I was in my forties, I really wanted to be bolder. Unfortunately, my wife preferred a quiet family life.

I tried very hard to persuade her, even managing to convince her to go to a party, but it was a complete failure.

She didn't like her partner, so the next month she was cursing me for it, making her nightmare about parties, and so on. It's no surprise that I eventually gave up on her and started seeing other women. The feast didn't last—one night, my wife caught me in bed with a hot girl, and it started… she filed for divorce soon after. By the way, I still think it was the right thing to do. For the next few months, I enjoyed bachelor life—partying, drinking, hanging out with young beauties, enjoying their bodies, fucking, fucking, fucking…

When I started to get a little tired of that, I started focusing on my business and it really took off—my company finally got investment and quickly grew into one of the biggest companies in the market. I was the CEO, always with my COO around, and lots of managers, secretaries… money was flowing in, and opportunities were coming my way. Girls were lining up to have sex with me, so I quickly got bored and started wanting more…

but what did I want? I wasn’t even sure myself until I met her. I met her in the elevator at our headquarters. Dude, I’ve never been a fan of love at first sight, but that voluptuous body captivated me. Amazingly shaped legs, big green eyes, long eyelashes, sweet lips… and she was also very, very tall. She was inches taller than me in heels. She was perfect. When she asked me something, I couldn’t even understand what she was saying—my mind went blank. I was speechless. Her name was Emily. By the way, my name is James—hello!

I won’t even waste your time describing how I pursued her and what our first time was like… believe it or not, but she was! She consumed all my time and filled my entire life.

Suddenly, my business didn’t seem like such a big deal. In the end, my partner suggested I take a step back and hire someone to replace me. I agreed to become the chair of the stakeholder committee, which meant I would only need to attend the annual meetings. Before this, I had always lived off the company's profits, so my resignation didn't affect my standard of living at all. I devoted all my free time to Emily, bought her a red Mini Cooper when she turned 20, and spoiled her in every way possible. After a year and a half of dating, I proposed to her, and she said yes. The wedding was beautiful. We invited a large number of guests, honeymooned in the Canary Islands, and cruised the ocean…

A year has passed since our wedding day, and suddenly I realized my happiness wasn't permanent. No, I still loved her, but it was gone. I had somehow gotten used to her. Our sex life wasn't as wild as it used to be. When we first started dating, we had sex several times a day, but it turned into three or four times a week. Some things started to irritate me—for example, Emily was completely against it. She said hers wasn't for fucking. I can't say I was really crazy, but at least out of pure curiosity, she could have tried it at least once with her dear husband.

Also, Emily became a bit feminist and started spending a lot of time in the office. I told her many times that we were capable of living off my money. However, she always said women shouldn't depend on men, and she wanted to be financially independent. She was actually very professional, becoming a department head in less than a year. Even on Saturdays, she started attending countless meetings…and the busy schedule didn't seem to bother her at all; she actually loved her job. I was really angry. It felt like she was avoiding me in the office. More importantly, despite her youth and amazing figure, Emily stopped wearing short skirts and dresses.

She said she wanted to look like a married woman should, and that her clothes would only distract her colleagues…and…well, technically it's not a bad thing, but it still drove me crazy.

Emily became a real fitness fanatic—starting going to the gym, jogging, swimming. And look how glamorous she was, and I wasn't. I'm 42 years old, 5'8", 210 pounds, and a bit flabby (damn, I've hated exercise since I was a kid)...and then I found myself being teased by my wife, telling me I'd better stop slacking off with my friends, start going to the gym, and fight off the extra fat...yes, that's what she said—"Get moving, fatso"...Dude, I wasn't looking for this when I got married for the second time. I was always looking for adventure, yearning to recapture my youth. And she just wanted me to go to the gym. Last but not least...Emily didn't like doing any sexual experiments and didn't want to hear anything about it or any group. Whenever I started talking about it, she shut me out. Two years into our marriage, I got bored. I wanted to be daring, which was exactly what I wanted to do with Emily. But I must admit, she wasn't bad to me. She was doing everything right, like married women are supposed to, like they're described in those vulgar articles about happy marriages. She even started talking about kids. Not just talk, but action: we should have our first child within a year, and the second within three…

Come on, I don’t mind being a father at 43, but I don’t want to plan or do it because I have time. What’s wrong with postponing it a little? How silly! But I didn’t argue—just a little bored. Then I went to websites for comfort, which generously offered me everything.

I started to enjoy all sorts of scenarios, showing men, women, and children in any imaginable way and place. And so it went, until I finally found my favorite: cuckold.com. The site’s title was “Cuckolding Wives,” which sounded really interesting. I went to read the message boards, where hundreds of men were asking for advice on how to make their wives like sluts. They were begging other members (whose wives were already very, very unfaithful) to tell them how to turn their loved ones into prostitutes. Maybe someone would suggest some kind of magic potion? There was no easy way, no method at all, because every family is too special… However, I really liked the idea, and I knew this was exactly what I wanted. I was hooked. I craved being cuckolded! This is where my story begins… I started spending time reading about infidelity. It drove me crazy, it made me horny—I couldn’t stop imagining Emily as a lowly whore and myself as a cuckold. My favorite stories were about wives who didn’t depend on their husbands, betraying them without a care in the world, with their husbands’ bosses, friends, enemies, and so on. These domineering bastards shamed their cuckolded husbands in front of everyone. I read everything I could find on Russian websites and then went to dedicated English sites. My favorite was cuckoldplace.com. I also realized that the international sites dedicated to it were even more hardcore than the Russian sites. They established the concept of interracial cuckoldry, white wives with black men, black men having better bodies and possessing better qualities. Wives and their lovers shamed their cuckolded husbands, making them suckle from the genitals… some cuckolds even blew up their huge black penises and went to their wives! The ladies, in turn, never missed an opportunity to show how much they despised their husbands and how tiny they were. They praised their lovers and tried to keep their husbands chaste. After having sex with their wealthy boyfriends, they showed absolutely no interest in their spouses…some even had mixed-race children! None of them divorced their white husbands! Everyone could see that these babies weren't theirs, and the cuckolded husbands were openly humiliated!

These stories were truly exciting. I absorbed them all like a sponge, ready to start experimenting immediately and become a real cuckold, but Emily…she didn't even want to hear anything about cuckoldry.

In fact, she said I was crazy for sharing my ideas with her.

Indeed, I was crazy. Regularity no longer mattered to me. I was obsessed with turning my wife into a prostitute and myself into a cuckold. The problem was, I didn't know how. I had money, free time, and my wife's beauty, but…was there really no way to achieve my dream? I didn't become younger, and I didn't have time to wait, because I didn't have that much left…

I started asking questions on message boards, and many people offered advice, but none of it worked in my specific case. I went to dating websites, described my cuckoldry addiction, and looked for men who could turn Emily into a lover. I uploaded her bikini photos and received over a hundred messages.

However, most of them were worthless, such as "The wife I want," "A picture without a bikini," or "Slut! Give me her phone number, I'll fuck her, she'll love it," and so on. I also got some information from like-minded cuckolds, but most of them either couldn't offer any concrete, tempting ideas or just wrote to me saying they were also trying to persuade their own wives.

About two months later, I finally received a message that seemed interesting—at least, it was different from the rest. It read, "Experienced psychologist, trainer. I know a lot about cuckoldry and can help you. Paid service—converting women is my job. Confidentiality guaranteed.

Details will not be discussed online. This is my phone number. Michael." For some strange reason, I felt that this professional psychologist named Michael couldn't be just another trafficker. He seemed like a real man who could help me. I didn't know how he would do it, but his message was actually full of confidence and professionalism. I didn't mind paying him—after all, changing wives was his job, and I was completely inept at it… When your dreams come true, aren't you prepared to pay? I certainly was.

At that moment, I completely forgot the old wisdom that warns people not to be afraid of their desires, because they might eventually become reality…

I met Michael in a coffee shop. I noticed him immediately and believed he was perfect for the job—ten years younger than me, healthy, six feet tall, very masculine (he looked like Robert Downey Jr.), expensive watch, stylish clothes… He seemed very confident, and I respected him from the start. He also had a certain charm that even attracted me, a man. We sat down, and he told me some things about himself.

"I recruit girls specifically for men seeking them. I've helped many wealthy gentlemen get together with ladies they like. Besides, I've brought many professional models into the brothel." "So, you're saying you can turn any woman into a prostitute?" "You could say that, yes."

"How do you do it?"

"There are many different techniques. I've found that everyone has their own approach. However, I don't want to lay all the cards on the table."

"Look, I have a slightly different need…"

"I know. What I'm telling you is what I do most of the time. But I've handled cases similar to yours, which is also a challenge for my skills. About a year ago, I helped a businessman who wanted his wife to cheat on him. With a Black man. Interracial cuckolding was very interesting to him." "And the result?"

"It was a success. She no longer has sex with white men. Also, she's about to give birth to her Black lover's child."

"Really?"

"Why would I lie to you? That's my job. In 90% of cases, I help my clients." I said, "So you admit that one in ten of your clients' orders fails." I immediately suspected I would be one of those failures.

“I’m not God, so I can’t guarantee 100% success. I think I can help you—as long as you follow my instructions in the most detailed way possible.”

“What instructions?”

“Well, not yet. To develop them, I need to know everything about your wife—her hobbies, preferences, favorite foods, perfumes, her background, relationships, her attitude towards sex… I need as much information as possible. If possible, please give me her medical records. In addition, I need to know more about you. When I have all the information I need, I will be able to come up with a plan and calculate all the costs.

I will come to your house while your wife is away. I need to look around the house and carefully examine your wife’s personal belongings to get to know her better.”

“Understood. I will be waiting for you after 10 a.m. tomorrow.” Michael arrived at about 10:15 the next day. I told him he could do whatever he wanted, so he went through all of my wife’s drawers, her wardrobe, boxes, the laundry basket for dirty clothes, her makeup case, and even her family photo and our wedding video album… Then he took his tablet, sat down in front of me, and started talking to me. Some questions seemed trivial, but I tried to answer them all as honestly as possible. Nevertheless, some of the questions were still embarrassing… “What’s your size? When does it get hard?”

“Why do you need to know?” I laughed. The size of my penis wasn’t something I was particularly proud of, so I was a little uneasy.

“Trust me, I need to know this.”

“Well… I think it’s about 7 centimeters normally, and… maybe only 13 centimeters when erect…” “Hmm, good.”

“Too good?”

“Good for me. Makes my task much easier. By the way, are you sure you were the first person to have sex with her?”

“Absolutely… at least, I’m sure she hasn’t had sex before. Besides, she’s so innocent… not that interested in men…”

“That’s good too…”

There were many other strange questions—but I stopped caring why Michael was asking them. I answered them all. To some extent, I was almost certain our plan was going to fail. Michael didn’t give me any advice, just questions, questions, and more questions. We talked all day. It was late when he finally asked a question that I thought was relevant.

"Now, let me hear your plan. How do you expect your wife to change? What level of infidelity do you consider acceptable?"

I was tired of all these questions and increasingly disappointed.

"Maximum."

"Maximum? Are you sure?"

"What are the options?"

"Many. The maximum you want means Emily will become a cuckold. This will change all her views and values, and she will never be the person she used to be. You, as her husband, will no longer be her master. She will belong only to her lovers and her. She will still be your wife, but you will no longer be able to control her. She will humiliate you with infidelity. As a result, she will eventually refuse to be your active lover. You will witness her having sex with other men, only occasionally giving her genitals..." "She has already refused me as her lover. I have asked her many times..." "That's not what I meant."

"I understand, but you just don't understand Emily... I think she will never cheat on me, never become a..."

"We're not talking about her now. We're talking about you. Give me a task, and I'll devise a plan."

That reminded me of cuckoldry websites, the alluring forbidden world I wanted to enter.

“Okay, the plan is yours. I just want you to know I want the best possible outcome. This isn't about me, it's about Emily… she's even been wearing her wedding ring all along, proving to everyone that she's married. And I'm ready, to the best of my ability…”

“That's all I need to know. I'll call you once the plan is complete.” Four days later, I received a call from Michael. We met, and he explained his plan. I have to admit, I was stunned by its scale and even its cost. This puzzled me… “Are you sure you need that much money?”

“Absolutely. I need to treat you and your wife to lots of luxuries.” “Why can't I buy them for myself?”

"I need to make your wife fall in love with me, which is why I need to be better than you on every level.

There's only one thing you're better than me. You're richer than me, and your wife shouldn't realize that." Suddenly I understood why he asked about my size… Did he really think he could make my wife fall for him just because he was bigger than me? Na?ve! I'd talked to Emily about size before, and she'd just laugh it off. She thought it was silly, like guys comparing their genitals in the bathroom. But Michael seemed very confident in his words.

"...That's why I need to pay for both of you. This is very important in the first phase of our plan. Let's get started—in ten days, we'll fly to the beach. We'll be checking into..." "The hotel—perfect for us. People under 18 and over 45 aren't allowed to stay here, and besides, there are hardly any Russians—the tourists are mostly from the US and South America. They speak English, Portuguese, and Spanish.

Your wife is learning Portuguese, isn't she? I remember you mentioned she complained about not having anyone to practice with, right?" "Yes, yes...I've always wondered what she needs Portuguese for..." "My Brazilian friends will be there too. I've explained the situation to them, and they're happy to come along."

"You speak Portuguese too?"

"Well, my friends speak English very well, and yes, I speak fluent Portuguese—I worked in Brazil for several years."

"So, what makes 'The Hotel' different from other hotels?" "This hotel is a real paradise for sex workers and couples. Guests can be almost anywhere in the hotel—when you're sexually frustrated, you don't have to go back to your room. I think the atmosphere here is perfect for our project."

I said, "Okay, that sounds really good, but I doubt my wife will be able to leave work." I felt our plans were about to fall apart. “I think I said she’s a hard-working career woman…”

“She’s already planning it.”

“Really?”

“She hasn’t taken a vacation in over a year. My friend in the government’s labor department contacted her boss. They threatened him with huge fines and other sanctions, and he happily agreed to give your wife a few days off. Even though she didn’t want to, he actually let her take the vacation. Her vacation starts tomorrow.” “Wow…” This changed my attitude towards Michael. He was clearly a professional. “Looks like I can really rely on you…”

“Of course.” Michael interrupted me. “But remember, it’s largely up to you.

You need to follow my orders very precisely. Do you remember what you weren’t allowed to do five days before departure?” “I remember. I can’t be with Emily.”

“Right. Even if she wants you to, you have to invent a reason to avoid it. Emily will have to be very horny when we start. Also, you should start getting used to life without being able to touch her genitals.” I admitted, “It sounds tempting, but honestly, I don’t really believe it will happen.” Michael said, “The important thing is that I do believe it,” without a hint of sarcasm. “Now we need to sign a contract to avoid any misunderstandings.”

So, the contract was signed.

"Now that we're partners on this project, may I call you Mike?" "I don't think now's appropriate. Everything should proceed logically. According to the plan, we'll meet near the hotel, so you can start calling me Mike. Okay?" "Okay..."

[The End]

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A man's second spring

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