My Years on the Road to Cuckoldry (Part 1)

page views:1 Publication date:2017-11-03

I've wanted to write about my wife's story for a long time. We've been married for ten years, and we're both approaching middle age. My wife is a year younger than me—or eight months to be exact. Fortunately, I'm still young at heart, my life isn't vulgar, and we've both achieved some success in our careers. Most of the time, I can follow my heart
. As for cuckolding, it's a stubborn thought that's been planted deep in my heart for many years. It's called a thought because it hasn't been fully realized yet. So, if you're reading this expecting erotica, you'll probably be disappointed. What I want to record is my cuckolding journey over the years. I believe most people with cuckolding tendencies are stuck in a situation where they can't take that actual step. It's not that their wives disagree, but they haven't thought about taking the plunge, or they're always hesitant. Regardless, we're kindred spirits, and we're sharing our experiences here without reservation—it's a joyful occasion.
Let's get to the point. It was my third year of marriage and my fourth year of working. That night, my wife and I invited our boss, Mr. A, to dinner for the first time. To my surprise, he readily agreed, and I booked a reasonably priced restaurant. Old A, around 44 or 45 years old, was well-maintained and enjoyed a drink or two occasionally, so I specially bought some baijiu (Chinese liquor) to bring to the restaurant. Considering I had to drive Old A home, and since I can't drink, I had my wife drink with him. My wife can drink a little, but she's almost never touched alcohol since we got married. Today, however, she had to drink because she needed something from him. Old A has been in his position for over a year, and there's been a lot of talk within the company about promoting a batch of new cadres soon. Having already achieved some success, I couldn't possibly remain uninterested. To be considered for promotion, I figured I needed to communicate with the leadership beforehand
. Since it was dinner with the top leader, my wife and I were both very careful. After two drinks, my wife was a little tipsy. She subtly and overtly suggested that the leadership consider promoting me, making me blush and turn pale. Seeing that my wife was about to lose control, I hinted that she shouldn't drink anymore. Old A had mentioned before that he had another dinner engagement that evening, but my wife was clearly drunk and kept asking for more drinks, while Old A seemed perfectly fine. I had to use the excuse of going somewhere else for tea to hurry up and end the meal. Unexpectedly, Old A suggested we go for tea, and even called another dinner party to tell them he wouldn't be going that night. Just then, I received a call from my department head. Since I was on duty that night, I needed to return to the office to handle some routine night shift business. Given the sensitive situation, I couldn't let anyone know I was with the boss, so I told him I'd be there soon.
My wife was helped out by Old A and me. While going down the steps at the hotel entrance, she almost tripped and fell. It was so embarrassing, and I was furious. At Old A's suggestion, I took him and his wife to a nearby teahouse first, then went to handle my work and would come back to find them later. Watching the tall, burly Old A help his petite wife out of the car and walk across the street, I felt a pang of unease.
About forty minutes later, the work was finished. I called my wife, but her phone was switched off. I tried calling Old A, but the call wouldn't go through. I was completely bewildered. What was going on? I dialed repeatedly, but still couldn't get through. It's impossible for both of their phones to be dead at the same time. I drove quickly to the teahouse, but the waiter said the person I was looking for hadn't been there at all. In an instant, I felt my face burning, like I'd been slapped twice. I drove aimlessly, unsure where to go, and before I knew it, I was back at work, waiting to contact them. My mind was a jumble of emotions. Old A had canceled a planned dinner to go tea with a drunken subordinate—was he up to something else? Had they gone to a hotel? If that were the case, what did I become? Someone who got promoted by selling his wife's body? A series of questions filled me with humiliation. Although I'd had thoughts of having sex with my wife before, and often discussed it with her during sex, seeing it actually happening before my eyes was unbearable, especially since it involved my career, which
I valued so much. Time ticked by, and I lay in the office, my mind a complete mess. Perhaps my wife's petite body is currently being forcefully thrust into by Old A, perhaps she's sitting on his lap, swaying her hips, perhaps she's head bowed, sucking his enormous glans. And Old A, with his subordinate offering his wife for his pleasure, might feel a perverse thrill. But then I thought, if all this were to happen, my wife would be doing it for me. She wants to secure my future; neither of us has connections, and our families are of modest means. We need a promising career to lay the foundation for our future. If that's the case, how should I treat my wife? Lost in these thoughts, my penis actually became erect, whether from anger or from the possible "cuckoldry" scenario unfolding before me.
My phone rang, pulling me back to reality. It was my boss, Old A, calling. About two hours had passed since I parted ways with them. "You little rascal, you just left your wife like that?" Old A's opening line surprised me. I could only vaguely say that my phone was dead and I went home to get a charger, not daring to mention that I had been trying to call them but couldn't get through. Firstly, I was afraid of a misunderstanding, and secondly, I was afraid of offending my boss. Damn it, power is a potent drug; it can make a woman in front of her aroused and undress, and it can make a man weak and powerless.
Following their location, I found them at another teahouse, about 600-700 meters away from the previous one. They were drinking tea in a private room by the window. My wife had sobered up, and they both seemed normal. My wife kept apologizing to Old A for her drunken behavior. I observed my wife closely; her previously loose hair was now tied up with a hairband, but it didn't look washed, and there was no smell of shampoo. Still not satisfied, I asked my wife why her phone was off. She pointed to the phone, indicating it was dead. I then said I tried calling Old A, but that also wouldn't go through. Old A sensed my questioning and quickly asked what time I called, explaining that his phone had been on the whole time and he shouldn't have been unable to reach me. He further explained that he and his wife went to a teahouse but found they had to wait for a table, so they took a taxi here.
This remained a mystery to me. On the way back, my wife and I argued. She denied all my suspicions, insisting she had been at the teahouse drinking tea to sober up. I slapped her, and she cried, "Why don't you believe anything I say?" This familiar question stung me even more. When I had an affair with my wife, she hadn't broken up with her ex-boyfriend yet, and eventually, he found out. Once, I received a call from her crying, asking me to explain to her boyfriend, and then I heard her say to him, "Why don't you believe anything I say?" I'll recount this story later. History repeats itself so strikingly; how could one not be suspicious? When
the car arrived downstairs, my boss, Old A, called, instructing me to give my wife plenty of hot water when I got home—a tone befitting a concerned elder. I replied coldly, "Okay." Back in the bedroom, I inexplicably got an erection, several sizes harder than usual. I roughly pulled down my wife's pants, and before she could react, I was about to penetrate her when I suddenly had a change of heart. I made her lie on the bed. My wife's limbs were smooth, with very light body hair, except for her pubic hair, which was thick. I parted her pubic hair to expose her genitals, then carefully examined her labia, and smelled them. There was no odor, nor the scent of toiletries. Her pink labia were slightly moist, and she didn't look like a woman nearing thirty.
That night, I was unusually fierce. At the height of my excitement, I suddenly asked her, "Is this how Old A fucks you?" My wife looked at me hesitantly, immediately realizing that I was doing what I usually did, hoping to hear her say something exciting during sex. My wife echoed me. "Is Old A's penis big? How do you lick his penis?" I asked again. My wife's excitement surged: "Right there in the teahouse private room, I pulled out his penis and knelt in front of him to lick it." "Where did he ejaculate in the end? Did he ejaculate a lot?" "He ejaculated all of it into my vagina, so many streams, do you want to try some... Husband, fuck me harder." My pleasure reached its peak from the stimulation. My wife, my ex-boyfriend, Old A, and I seemed to be having a group sex session. The moment he ejaculated inside my vagina, all the imagined scenes, in the extremely lewd atmosphere, materialized into a dark shadow. I hugged my wife and cried, saying what was on my mind: "Even if you really slept with Old A, I won't abandon you." My wife didn't explain further, just hugged me back, comforting me with her small hands. I felt utterly powerless, the humiliation of being a man, the weakness of being a struggling man at the bottom of society.
I've never been able to confirm whether anything happened between my wife and Old A that night. But I also can't believe that Old A did nothing for over two hours. If a woman were to perform oral sex on a man, it wouldn't take long, and it could be done anytime, anywhere, as long as no one is around. Even if nothing happened, it doesn't mean Old A didn't want to. Judging from the various signs that night, Old A must have had thoughts about
it. Because of my cuckoldry fantasies, my wife and I had fantasized about many people. But after that night, we never mentioned Old A in bed again. More humiliating than my wife being slept with by my boss was using her body to exchange for my future promotion. My wife probably knew this, so Old A became a tacit taboo in our bedroom, but he became an important guide in our future careers.

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My Years on the Road to Cuckoldry (Part 1)

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