I woke early and, feeling restless, was unable to get back to sleep. My wife lay dead asleep on her back beside me. I rose gently and as I pulled back the sheets, I could see that her sleep shirt had risen above her waist. She was wearing nothing beneath, and her long, toned legs were slightly spread. Her pussy was on full display, its lips still somewhat swollen. The pubic hair that so artfully adorned the spot above them was matted, remnants of a white crust visible in places.

I tenderly placed the sheet back over her, tiptoed out of the room, and descended the stairs.

For the next half hour I was alone with my thoughts.  This new discovery was terribly exciting, and my body tingled at the vision of a stranger’s cum leaking out of her. At the same time, though, it took my anxiety to a level I’d not experienced since I was first confronted with evidence of her adultery. Over time, I had largely won the battle against feelings of jealousy and inadequacy, but this was the most jarring and tangible revelation yet. It was as if I’d touched a live wire and received a shock.

Most troubling to my emotions was knowing that she had accepted another man’s seed. I had come to assume that might be the case, but being presented with clear evidence hit me like a punch in the gut. As I sipped my coffee, I scolded myself. How could I have been so naive as to think she would reserve that for me alone? Was I entitled to presume it was an exclusive privilege of marriage?

Silly fool, I chided myself. She had long ago surrendered to a life of hedonism and sin. It was nothing but delusion to think that world would place any constraints on the pursuit of pleasure.

Still, the gut punch was powerful. When she finally rose and came downstairs, she was cordial, but I could feel the distance. It was evident that the previous night had been especially intense for her, and she would need some space to close that off and reengage.

There was no playfulness, no apology nor explanation for the late hour, no action to make it up to me with morning sex like she had done before. She seemed lost in herself. I would give her the space she needed.

By that evening things had returned to normal. She explained that she and her friends had lost track of time the night before and how exhausted she was even after sleeping in. Still, we had a pleasant dinner, and that night we made slow, languorous, romantic love. At her request I pulled out and splashed my cum across her belly and breasts, and we fell asleep in each other’s arms, my essence coating our skin where we pressed together.  

Life returned to its normal patterns. I was perpetually horny thinking about being married to such a beautiful, alluring, slutty woman. The role I had accepted and even embraced was not that of a cuckold. That is a role that, whether involving turn-on, humiliation, or both, required that both partners be aware of the dynamic. In our case, the role was mine alone; there was no evidence that she had even an inkling of my awareness.

The irony was not lost on me. She had kept her dirty secrets from me, and I in turn had kept mine from her.

The payoff was that our sex life had never been better, and when we were together, our relationship was great. For my part, it made me glad to know that she was fulfilled, that she was getting what she so desperately needed, that she could become at last a complete woman.

We took a week’s vacation to a resort. Her skimpy bathing suit caught much attention from the other men at the pool and beach. I reveled in watching their lascivious glances, which at times turned to stares, proud in the knowledge that I would be the one with whom she would share herself later. We were together all the time and lacking the other outlets for her libido that she indulged at home, she threw herself on me constantly. By trip’s end I was sexually exhausted and literally drained. She spent the entire flight home nestled against me, her head resting sweetly on my shoulder.

Once back home, it didn’t take long for her to resume her ways. In fact, the frequency of her adventures seemed to increase, the absence of the rush having left her with an insatiable appetite. She still made time for me, but her energy began to abate as she spent more and more of it elsewhere.

Nonetheless, I was content. She was more than fair to me, if that’s not too ironic to say, and her happiness fed mine. It seemed we had finally reached a new state of equilibrium. My anxieties were conquered; I had moved to full acceptance, safe in the knowledge that her love for me was intact.

Until one fateful evening.

Like so many other evenings, she had gone out, but this time she came home quite a bit earlier than normal. I was reading in the family room and sipping a glass of wine. I heard her come in and called out a friendly greeting. She didn’t respond, and I heard her walk into the kitchen. There was a clink of glass against the counter, and a few moments later she walked into the room, her own glass of wine in hand.

She didn’t approach me but instead sat opposite me. She seemed on edge and leaned forward. “We need to talk.”

I looked at her. Her hair was a mess. Her dress was normal for a “girl’s night out,” but I noticed something new. A slim leather choker with a silver O-ring adorned her neck. The look was both tasteful and erotic. She had never looked sexier.

“What’s up?” I asked, foolishly attempting to sound nonchalant.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” came the straightforward reply. Her tone was soft, but somewhat flat.

I started to say something in response, but caught myself and paused to let her continue.

“I don’t know how to make this easy, so I will just tell you everything. Please let me get it all out.”

She took a gulp of her wine, sighed deeply, and began.

“I’ve been unfaithful. A lot. For quite a long while. To this point, I’ve been able to manage both my love for you and my secret life, but that’s no longer possible. That’s why I needed to talk.”

She paused, gauged my reaction, and resumed.

“Before I go any further, I want you to know how very deeply I love you. I never meant to hurt you. This is about me, not you. And this didn’t start because of anything you did or failed to do. You have been the most incredible, loving, supportive partner a woman could ever imagine having."

Another pause, another generous sip of her wine.

“I guess I should start at the beginning. At first it was just curiosity. I was horny one night when you were out, and I wandered online. I found it to be arousing, and I wanted to explore further, so I joined several communities. At that point it was still curiosity, and research. I was fascinated by this world that I had a vague idea existed – a forbidden world of swingers and cheaters and anonymous sex.

“The further I explored, the more excited I became. Excitement turned to temptation, and I began to accept invitations to chat. Text chatting led to video connections; exhibitionism and mutual masturbation soon followed.

“I was pulled deeper and deeper into this realm, and I found it impossible to resist. To that point, I told myself that I hadn’t really cheated, but it became clear that I was fast approaching a major decision point.

“As I considered possibilities, I grappled with feelings of guilt. The lure of the forbidden continued to grow stronger, though, and guilt gave way to obsession. Deception, betrayal, and society’s taboos no longer served as a deterrent; to the contrary, they were thrilling.

“It was only a matter of time before I would cross that very clear and bright line. I gave it long and careful thought. I had entered into my marriage vow very seriously, and this wouldn’t be a step I would take lightly. I tried to suppress the feeling, but the tug was too strong.

“I planned so carefully. I didn’t want to hurt you in any way. In my journey to that point, I had learned a lot about techniques to hide secrets. I decided that I could make this work and keep it from you. And so, with firm conviction, I decided to step across the line.

“The first time, I was so nervous. Shaking, really. I almost called it off. But then I realized that the nerves were raw excitement. The feeling even more incredible than I had imagined.”

She paused again. My face must have been showing my anguish. Even though I already knew, having her describe all this cut like a knife.

“I thought I would feel intense guilt afterward, that crossing the line would also mean changing as a person. But instead, I felt euphoric. I was high. Driving home, I didn’t feel like a different person. To the contrary, I realized this is who I’ve been all along. And I realized that there would be no turning back.

“I had been bottling up an inner slut, and now that slut had been freed from captivity. The thrill of deception, the adrenaline rush of cheating, was like nothing I’d ever felt. I knew then and there that this was just the beginning.

“I need to let you know all of it. There were many men, so many. Most were strangers; a few I knew, though not well. None of them were our friends or even acquaintances. I wasn’t that reckless, neither in keeping my secrets well hidden nor in my respect for you. I had to put some distance between my worlds.”

She downed the rest of her wine. “Give me just a minute,” she said. “I need a refill.”

She walked into the kitchen and returned with a full glass and the bottle. She walked over to me and refilled my glass as well. As she was returning to her seat, I broke the silence.

“I know all about it.”

A look of surprise appeared on her face.

“How?” she asked.

I told her the story about the run where I was a voyeur to an adulterous encounter in the woods, how it led me to fantasize about her and venture into the same online world she had explored. I went on to describe how my fantasies became consuming enough that I spied on her unlocked phone, finding her secret text app and deciphering the passcode that unlocked her secrets.

“Our wedding date,” I added with a wry smile.

“Why didn’t you say something?” she inquired.

“Because I could see how happy you were. I read your messages; I knew how fulfilled your cheating made you. I love you, and I want you to be happy.”

“But didn’t it hurt?”

“Of course it did. At first it hurt deeply. But it also turned me on, more than you might imagine.”

Her eyes moved to my crotch. “You’re hard, aren’t you?” she asked.

I swallowed hard. “Yes,” was all I could say.

“Oh, you poor thing.”

Silence.

I once again took note of the choker.

“There’s more, isn’t there,” I offered.

She shifted uncomfortably, took another drink from her glass, and fixed me with an intense gaze. I thought I detected a slight misting in her eyes.

“I was only after sex. The dirty, forbidden kind. It was my drug. I didn’t need to become emotionally involved, nor did I want to. That made it easier to rationalize my behavior. It was only physical. I wasn’t after an affair. I love you and your love sustains me. There was never a hole in my heart, just an aching in my body. It turned me into an addict."

She paused again, a pause that became uncomfortably long.

“But then something happened.”

A tear became visible.

“I didn’t seek it. More like it found me.”

My insides were churning. I couldn’t breathe. She paused again.

“Go on,” I half spat out.

“He wasn’t like the others. The first time, there was something very different. I tried to run away from it, but he was persistent. And I couldn’t stay away. And that’s why I had to tell you about it. All of it.”

Another awkward pause.

“You’ve fallen in love.” I stated the obvious.

She took a deep breath. “Yes. I’m in love with him.”

I reflexively doubled over. The room began to spin. I summoned every ounce of strength, sat upright, and looked at her.

“Go on.”

“That first time, he was more than aggressive. He was dominant. I’ve had plenty of aggressive sex, rough even, but this was something different.

“He didn’t so much dominate me physically as emotionally. There was something about him that affected me in a way that I’d never experienced. He seemed to know how to reach inside me and push all the right buttons.

“Shall I go on, or is this too much detail?”

“No, please go on,” I replied.

“My first orgasm with him was almost devastating in its intensity. It was as if my body had shattered into a million little pieces. I couldn’t stop shaking.”

My heart was pounding, my stomach tight as a snare drum, but my cock was erect and leaking. Reflexively, I touched myself through my pants. She continued.

“It took me much longer to disconnect from that first encounter. I went to the hotel bar and had a stiff drink, then drove around for an hour trying to find reentry. I kept telling myself that it was a one-time thing, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“We met again, and it was even more intense. I came away physically and emotionally drained, but I was so happy and fulfilled. I didn’t know anyone could touch me that way.

“We began to meet regularly. When I wasn’t with him, he haunted my dreams. I was hurtling uncontrollably toward the point of no return.

“It was exhilarating, but it scared me to death. I began to panic. And so, I pulled away. I stopped seeing him, cut off communication.

“But it was too late. I couldn’t stay away. He reached out again and again, and each time I saw a message a jolt of electricity shot through me. It was euphoria. I tried to escape through others, but when I was with them, I couldn’t stop thinking about him.”

She paused to catch her breath, and I interjected.

“And when you were with me?”

She cast her eyes downward and in a barely audible voice, replied. “Yes. Not at first, but over time, when we were having sex all I could think about was him. That had never happened before. With the others, when I came home, I was totally, completely yours. Ours was an enduring relationship, a loving bond, inside a life we had built together. None of my lovers could match that.”

She looked up at me with pleading eyes.

“Please believe me when I tell you how special our lovemaking was.”

“Was?” I shot back.

Again, she cast her eyes downward, gathered herself, and raised them to me once again.

“Yes, was. That is all in the past.”

Out of pure instinct I rose and walked over to her. I sat next to her and took her hands in mine.

“I won’t let what we have together go. I will do anything to save our marriage. I’ve realized for some time who you really are, and I love that. You can be a hotwife, and I will be your cuck. We can embark on a wonderful new adventure together.”

I leaned in for a kiss, but she firmly pushed me away.

“What is that?” I cried out. “That’s it, we’re over? Not on my life. I haven’t fought for you before, but now I will.” I leaned forward and embraced her. She stiffened in response, then suddenly burst into tears.

Her sobbing seemed to go on forever, but eventually she cried herself out and pushed me away.

“You just don’t get it. It’s too late. I’m his now.”

She touched the O-ring on her choker.

“I mean, I’m really his. Do you know what this is?”

“It’s a BDSM collar,” I replied.

“Yes, but it’s more than that. It’s an ownership collar. That’s what this little ring signifies. Tonight, I agreed to become his property. I accepted this collar as a sign of my submission to his ownership.”

This revelation hit me in the chest like a freight train. My vision blurred; I became dizzy. She continued.

“I can’t be with you any longer. He forbids it. I live by his rules now, and he takes care of me. It is the most wonderful feeling I’ve ever experienced.

“I will be leaving here tonight to be with him. Don’t worry, he doesn’t live here. He travels here on business. Tomorrow a van will come and pack up my things. I won’t take much. He will take care of me, so you don’t have to worry – the house, the cars, the bank accounts, you can keep them all. I’ll keep this as simple as possible.”

I tried to hug her again, but again, she pushed me away.

“I can’t hug you. I can’t kiss you. He has commanded me to cease all physical contact, even just this one last time, and I intend to obey him.”

She looked down at the bulge in my pants, and the stain that had spread there.

“I don’t expect you to believe this, but this is breaking my heart as well. That’s why I want to do something for you – one last erotic moment for us to share. It’s the least I can do, if that’s something you’d like. But you’ll have to go back over to where you were sitting before. But before you do, there’s one last thing I need to tell you.

“I’m carrying his child.”

I rose from the couch, walked back to my chair and began to softly cry as my world fell apart.

She rose and began to peel off her dress. She was naked beneath. She sat back down, spread her legs, and began to run her hands down her body. Across her breasts, her taut belly, up her inner thighs, and finally one hand settling on her pussy.

She stared intently at me. No words were needed. I stood up and stripped naked. My cock pointed directly at her. She looked at it with the longing of one who has lost something forever. Tears began to stream down her face.

I settled back down in my chair and began to stroke. My eyes took in her beauty. The face that had brightened my days. The lips that had softly whispered “I love you.” The eyes that never failed to pierce my soul. The long, lean, athletic body that I had now long known had lain with so many other men. The triangle of hair above her pussy, so perfectly framing the opening to her vessel of sin.

She rubbed harder and I pumped furiously. No words fell between us, only the ragged breathing of two lovers approaching one last orgasm together, and yet already so very far apart.