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First Time Cuckold, by Jezebel Rose

 

In the sixth year of my marriage, I discovered that my wife was having an affair. When I confronted her, I expected that she would deny it, but instead, she admitted that yes, she was having an issue and she became angry, telling me that it was all my fault. That whenever we had sex, I always climaxed too soon. That I still left her hanging. That she was never sexually gratified. She always faked her orgasms because she didn’t want to hurt my feelings.

Up until this point in my life, I always thought that we had a good marriage and a good sexual relationship. Sure, the sex became routine and predictable but that happens in every marriage, so I thought.

My macho ego was destroyed and shattered. She continued attacking me, telling me that not only did I suffer from premature ejaculation but my penis was skinny and on the small size.

I’ve always adored her, and here she was humiliating me and making me feel so inadequate with her brutal truth. I felt so ashamed and so sorry that I had confronted her, but she did admit to having an affair. Somehow, her admittance gave me a feeling of deep emotional intimacy with her, and it seemed like she felt the same.

Her anger subsided, and her voice became softer perhaps she realized the awful pain she had inflicted upon me. In her soft, gentle voice she said, “Oh Tim, I’m so sorry for what I’ve said. I wish I could take back the words.”

We reached for each other and caressed, with me saying, “No. Don’t take back the words. They’re true, and I’m grateful for your honesty. It makes me feel so close to you and yet, so vulnerable.”

Then she asked, “Can we go into the bedroom?” In the bedroom, we undressed each other with me trying to hide my genitals from her view. I was always proud to be a man, but this night I felt embarrassed to be naked in front of her. I knew she would compare me to her lover.

She pulled back the bed covers. Laying down on her back, she beckoned me to lie on top of her, and as I did, I felt her hand guide my erection to her vagina.

I pushed all the way into her and began to pump in and out, but I was so excited that I started ejaculating and groaning in frustration. That’s when, for the first time, I heard her sigh of disappointment. It made me feel so inadequate, so useless. I told her how sorry I was. That I didn’t do anything for her. She had her arms around me, and she kept saying, “It’s alright. Oh, my poor boy, it’s alright. Don’t be concerned about it. It’s not important. I’ll be fine so don’t think about it.”

The embarrassment was overwhelming. I lay there with my cock deflating inside of her until it slipped out. She slid her hands up along my back to the tops of my shoulders where I felt her hands pressing me down, down toward her breasts. I went down kissing my way to her breasts and nipples. The nipples that another man now enjoyed.

While sucking on her nipple, she cradled my head in her arms like she would while feeding a baby. Her moans of pleasure gave me a sense of peace. I felt like I could stay in this position forever.

She combed her fingers through my hair and then clutched my hair on either side of my head. Pulling my head away from her breast, she turned my face up to look at her. She stared at me very intently with no expression on her face. She was studying my face for the longest time. Perhaps she was assessing the emotional damage she had inflicted upon me, or maybe she was estimating how much more humiliation I could endure.

 

I was about to ask her, “What’s wrong?” When she pushed my head down to her vagina, guiding my mouth to her clitoris. I felt her hand on the back of my head as she pushed my face into her pubic hair. The scent of her was intoxicating, and it caused my penis to stir into another erection.

Licking back her pubic hair, I exposed her clitoris, so pink and engorged, my crown jewel. It was my chance to gain back her approval, to make up for my failings. I closed my mouth over her jewel, sucking it and tasting her juices. I could hear her cooing and panting while she whispered instructions, “Yes. This is what I want. Keep doing that. Don’t stop. Suck it harder. Harder! That’s it, my boy! Use your tongue.”

I could never fuck her so entirely as her lover does, but I will be the better man at cunnilingus. Following her instructions, I was making love to her jewel as she withered, twisted and bucked, then arching her pussy up towards me and crying out with her first orgasm. She resisted, groaned, kicked and growled like a wild animal and all the while I held on to her as I continued sucking. Soon her bucking and shaking came to a rest, and my sucking turned into a gentle licking until she gasped the words, “Oh please stop. It’s too sensitive.”

Moving away from her overly sensitive clit, I licked my way down to the lips of her labia, savoring it all. I touched and pushed my tongue as deep as I could up into her vaginal canal where I could taste the sweetness of my semen mixed with her juices. Thinking to myself that this is where her lover’s cock goes. All the while she continued whispering her instructions, “Oh boy, that feels so good. Let me feel that tongue. Yes, that’s the spot. Good boy. Don’t stop.”

After a while of licking and drinking her juices, her clitoris had time to desensitize itself. I licked my way back up to it and began sucking it again. All the while she continued whispering her words of encouragement until she once again began to pant and shake as another orgasm overwhelmed her. This one was more violent than the last.

 

This night, in this manner, I gave her four orgasms. After we stopped, we lay alongside each other. My face was covered in her juices and my mouth, chafed red from the cunnilingus I gave her.

I asked her if she loved him and she replied, “No! I only love you. With him, it’s only sex, but if it comes down to a choice, then I will choose him only because I have to have my sexual freedom. I’m sorry, but I’m going to continue seeing him.”

“What if someone sees you?” I asked.

“Don’t worry. I’m very discrete.” She replied.

“What about your safety,” I inquired.

She replied,” Honey, he wants to fuck me not beat me.”

“What if you get pregnant?”

She replied, “I’m the one who carries the baby, and I’m the one who gives birth to it. You will be the father, but I’m the one who will decide who impregnates me. I know that this is unacceptable to any man unless he loves his wife unconditionally.”

Weighing all that she had said and looking into her eyes I replied, “I do love you unconditionally.” An approving smile of satisfaction crossed her face. We were no longer husband and wife, and we were now wife and cuckold. I became her accepting, adoring and submissive cuckold.

The following night when we got home from work and were preparing dinner, I asked her if she saw her lover today. She replied by saying, “Honey, I’ll tell you everything you want to know, but it has to be when we are in the bedroom not here in the kitchen. It has to remain our pillow talk.”

Sexual intercourse became too embarrassing for me. Our sexual relations consist of cunnilingus and masturbation. Unlike sexual ties where I would have premature ejaculations when my wife masturbated me, it would take ten or twelve minutes for me to climax. Stroking me that long was very tiring for her until she discovered that when she talked about her lover, it caused me to peak immediately.

 

We are married over twenty years now, and we both still get very excited when she is preparing for her date. I always get those pangs of jealousy when I see her primping herself for him. She may stay the night with her lover but when she returns home to me the next morning, she is radiant, and her eyes have a sparkle in them. After all of these years, she is still the most exciting person in my life, and I’m so lucky to have her.

An average married woman is content to live out her entire life in monogamy. She enjoys the comfort and security of marriage, and she doesn’t want to go beyond its bounds. She and her husband will explore and experiment with their sexuality, but if it comes to sex with another man, she will not cross that line.

This frustrates many husbands who want to see their wives experience sex with another man, but she refuses. This is the natural nature of a woman.

This chapter as in the preceding one is about another type of woman. The promiscuous wife. In her marriage, there is no exploring or experimenting with their sexuality because she doesn’t know how to act. Her cuckold will often hear her words, “I don’t do that. I’m not that kind of girl.” The poor guy doesn’t know that he is a cuckold.

When she was a young girl, an older boy or man molested her. It may have been a one-time event, or she may have been molested over a period, in any case, she was told not to say anything to her parents, and she complied.

When I was in my mid-twenties, I had two acquaintances, Johnny and Sal. Like me they were in their mid-twenties, both were married, and Sal had two small children.

One afternoon Johnny came home from work and got into an intense argument with his wife. In the heat of the debate, his wife shouted, “You never show me any affection! If I want affection, I get it from Sal! Yes, Sal! Your friend! He’s been fucking me for the past six months!”

 

Hearing this, Johnny became enraged. He stormed out of the house and drove to Sal’s house. Sal’s wife and two children were sitting on the front porch waiting for Sal. Johnny asked, “Where is he?”

She replied, “We’re waiting for him to get home from work. Oh, here he is now.”

Sal was pulling into his driveway, and he stopped to say hi to Johnny. Johnny pulled out his pistol and at point blank range, shot Sal dead in front of his wife and kids.

Johnny got his revenge. He kept his ego, his pride, dignity, and self-respect but he lost his freedom. He’s in prison, serving a life sentence.

Infidelity is hardest on a man. Too many cases end in murder and suicide with the vast majority of cases ending in divorce. And then there are the accepting cuckolds like myself and the guy I wrote about in chapter one.

We try to keep our wives activities hidden from our friends and family. Our wives play the role of the good wife, but in the privacy of our bedrooms, she is the dominant partner. She uses humiliation and shame to keep us subservient. She knows that humiliation is our aphrodisiac and she knows how to use it on us.

Consider this; boys are growing up will get into fights with each other, but an hour later they are friends playing ball together. Girls, on the other hand, will get into an argument and then they will play mind games, and their psychological war can go on for years. Girls can be very devious.

When a woman comes into a marriage, she comes with her secret arsenal of psychological weapons. It may even have been her mental powers of persuasion that caused her man to propose marriage in the first place. The male may be taller and stronger, but he doesn’t stand a chance against a wife who is intent on making him her cuckold.

 

When my wife first met me, she thought to herself, “He’s good-looking, intelligent, has limited experience with girls, he probably will be a good provider, and I can manipulate him. I’ll have to be careful and make him special. No fucking or blow jobs for this guy. I want him to see me as a pure, innocent, chaste angel.”

From the start of our marriage, I always got home from work first so I would take a shower and then prepare dinner. After dinner, I would clean up the kitchen while my wife went into the bedroom to lay out her clothes for the following day. Then she would take a shower.

At the end of her shower, I would dry her, finishing up by kneeling in front of her, wiping her feet, then up her legs to her mound. After wiping all of her pubic hair with a soft towel, she would reward me by letting me lick her clitoris once or twice.

It was only once or twice because once she has showered, she doesn’t want to get messy by having sex. I would then help her into her robe, and she would dismiss me so she could groom her hair.

In the living room, I would sit at the end of the couch so that she could lay down, place her feet on my lap and have me massage her feet. I always watched the TV shows she wanted.

At first, my wife made me feel like the dominant partner in our courtship, but I was always so anxious to please her that after a year of marriage, she transformed me to where she became the dominant partner. In the privacy of our home, our relationship evolved into a master-slave or more like a queen/servant.

During that first year of our marriage, whenever I was nude in front of her, I was always proud of my manhood but after that first-year things changed. Suddenly I became embarrassed to be naked in front of her, and I didn’t know why. Maybe it was the way she began to look at me that made me feel ashamed of my nakedness.

 

The first year that I was her husband, she looked up to me, and there was an intimacy between us, but after she cuckolds me, she looked down on me, and the privacy was gone.

Whenever she knew that I was going to be naked, like when I was going to take a shower, she would come into the bedroom, fully clothed. It gave her a sense of power to have me nude in front of her. She would start a conversation, and I would feel uncomfortable to be naked like that. I felt the urge to cover up, but I knew it would be a violation of our intimacy. Sometimes she would comment, “You have a cute little penis.”

I’m average size, but it was her way of belittling my manhood. She knew that when I was nude, I was defenseless and a victim of her subtle remarks. Remarks aimed at stripping away my male dominance and masculinity.

After we were married a year, she had successfully denied me the ability to initiate sexual intercourse. She claimed that sex was too uncomfortable. That it hurt and there was something wrong with me because I wanted it too much. That I was selfish and didn’t care about her feelings. She accused me of being a pervert because I was always craving sex.

Being too young and too naive, I didn’t know what a healthy marriage was. My sex life by now was mostly masturbation. I suspected that her manager was giving her all of the sexual excitement and gratification she craved.

There were times that I would accuse her of having an affair. She would smirk at me and ask, “Can you prove that?” Which I couldn’t.

Because of my growing suspicions, I began seeing a woman psychologist, and after many sessions, she came to these conclusions saying, “From everything that you have told me, I have to say, that your suspicions are not unfounded. Yes, your wife is having an affair. You don’t need any proof.”

Hearing her say that, I got a sick feeling in my stomach. All along I knew my wife was having an affair, and I didn’t want to acknowledge it. The doctor confirmed all of my fears, and it made me embarrassed. I felt like I was going to cry.

 

The doctor continued, “Keep in mind, it is not the circumstances that are thrust upon you that matter. It is how you react to those circumstances. Your wife is not going to change. I recommend that you seriously consider divorce.”

Divorce for me was out of the question. I loved her too much, no one in my family ever got a divorce. It was against my religion, it was too expensive, and if I did divorce, I had no place to live, nowhere to go. I decided to let my wife decide if she wanted to divorce me. I never told her of the doctor’s conversation with me.

The psychologist went on, “I’m going to prescribe for you. Each night, about an hour before bed, I want you to take two tablets. They will help you to sleep. During the day, if you start to think of your wife with her manager, I want you to take one tablet. It will help ease some of your anxiety.”

After two weeks on medication, I decided to skip it one night. When my wife got into bed, she discovered that I had an erection, so she knew that I had not taken my medication. She had to masturbate me to put me into a deep sleep, and as she was stroking me, she said, “You must take your medication. I can’t be doing this every night.”

The following night and every night after that, about an hour before bed, my wife would get a glass of water and come into the living room where I was sitting. She would hand me the pills saying, “Here’s your medication. I want to make sure that you swallow these. It will help us both to sleep.”

After about four weeks of being on the medication, one night she brought me the pills, but this night I told her I didn’t want to take them. She replied, “You will take them. I’m not going to have you twisting and turning all night.”

She stood over me, staring down at me with the pills in her open hand, the other side holding a glass of water. I was thinking that she was going to sit beside me and masturbate me into submission like she usually does. Anticipating her hand job, I got an erection. She couldn’t see it because I was sitting. Then she used a more forceful voice saying, “I said take these.” I shook my head, “No” and it gave her a pang of anger.

 

She shifted her stance which caused her robe to slip open, exposing her pussy. It was inches away from my face, and her pubic hair smelled clean and fresh from her shower. I could see that she had powdered it. Just a half hour earlier I had knelt before it and patted it dry, paying my homage to her by kissing it but now she was flaunting it. Using it to humiliate me.

She knows the mystical, magical powers her pussy has over me. Exposing herself to me empowers her. She has full control over how I am going to act. She decides if I make love to it or just let me admire it. For me, not having any control is humbling.

Please purchase this story and support me as an author! Thank you! ~ Jezebel Rose

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