This is a rhetorical question. What does a man do when he learns he enjoys knowing his wife is fucking other men? Yes, that’s a difficult question for most men to answer. A few men end up learning the answer; not everyone learns the same lesson.

I learned my answer, but my journey isn’t common. Partially accidental, partially because of Cheryl, and partially because of my stupidity.

I made a promise to Cheryl during a massive climax, watching an interracial cuckold porn movie. I promised I’d find a guy like the black Adonis in the movie for her. I did, and she liked it so much that she persuaded me to let her do it a second time. More or less, that’s how I had to answer the question. Like I said, more or less.

After her second night with Tuck, I was in the kitchen when he left. He was dressed, and Cheryl kissed him goodbye at the door. She was still naked, and he hugged her, and I overheard him say, "Be kind to Kevin; he's a good guy. Enjoy yourself, but don't forget that he loves you. I can't leave you without leaving you and Kevin one more reminder of me." He kissed her right tit, leaving a definite bite mark behind.

Cheryl came to me in the kitchen, hugged me, and led me back to the bedroom, where Tuck had just finished with her. The bed was a mess, with all the sheets and blankets in disarray. Tucks, cum, and Cheryl's juices were all over the sheets. In seconds, it seemed, I had her on the bed with my cock in her. She was so wet from, god, all his cum in her that I just slipped inside. and I pounded her until I had my cum mixed with his.

I can't believe I just did that.

For the next few weeks, we were having sex daily, and it slowly reduced to every other day. I knew, well, because Cheryl told me that she intended to continue.

It was the next month that it came up again. We were coming down from a wild fuck, not lovemaking, a wild fuck, that she started rubbing my cock on her pussy and said, softly, “That was our best yet, Kevin, wonderful, in fact. But it’s time, I think, for me to do it again. Not Tuck, someone else. I want it to be spontaneous, not planned like when I was with him.”

“Spontaneous? What do you mean spontaneous? Um...”

She stopped me by kissing me. God, her kisses—she could make me do anything for those. “Yes, Kevin, spontaneous. Like when we want to make love, it just happens. We don’t plan it. That's what I want.”

Her hand moved to hold my cock and continued, “Kevin, I want to be just me and the guy, my lover, there. I want to, to just do it—no planning, no permission, no hesitation. Kevin, that’s what I want next.”

I could feel my cock hardening listening to her. This was it; if I acquiesced, I conceded I was her cuckold, her willing cuckold.

My response was to put her on her back and put my cock in her. My hands were mauling her tits, and my kisses were demanding. When I finally came in her again, I said, “Like this? Spontaneous like this? Yes, yes.”

She was going to do it again and again. She was going to welcome other men’s cocks. She was going to come on other men's cocks.

We lay there and slowly fell asleep. About two weeks later, I got a text message from her.

Honey: God, I’m meeting Scott for drinks at Sandy’s. He’s a salesman that calls on us that you don’t know. I’m going to go to his motel room, and I’ll be a few hours late getting home. If I’m going to be after midnight, I’ll text you again. I can’t wait. Don’t call or text me.

When I read that, I felt my stomach turn over. I could picture it with some stranger instead of Tuck. They’re undressing each other. My vision moved to seeing her on the bed. God no, he’s laying there with his cock sticking up, and I’m seeing her crawl over him and hold his cock as she slowly moved down and it slipped inside. I had to pull over quickly before I was in an accident.

I was seeing her moving up and down on it, and I heard them both as clear as day. Cheryl was saying, “Oh yes, oh yes. Scott, oh, oh.” And then moans.

He was saying, “You’re so beautiful like that, with my cock in you. Your tits, bouncing like this. God, yes, yes.” Then he grabbed her head and her tits and pulled her down on her. I could see as he was fucking her harder and harder, until he yelled, “YES!” And they both collapsed.

My imagination was showing them like I was there. I was hearing them like I was there. I even smelled his cum after he came. It was so real.

Cheryl was home by ten. But god, she looked disheveled. Her blouse was buttoned wrong, no bra, and her lips were swollen. She looked fucked.

I’ve always thought of April 5 as my cuckold anniversary. The times with Tuck somehow didn’t count.

My answer to my starting question is to get out of her way. Enjoy the ride.