I Am A Cuckold

I am a cuckold, and it’s by choice. I didn’t catch my wife of six years cheating. I didn’t walk in on anybody or find emails or anything like that. As a matter of fact I had no idea anything was going on. I was completely 100% fat, dumb and happy.
She dropped the bomb on me at our favorite restaurant which I don’t have to say I won’t even drive by the place anymore. To make things worse we both dressed up like we do for a dinner date. We ordered our food, and then she told me. She didn’t even wait for the food to be served.
She was really nervous and her voice quivered a little and she said she needed some time to herself. I was stunned. I asked her if she was kidding. She said no. I then asked her why several times after that. She kept saying she needed some time. I asked her if she was talking divorce. She said she hadn’t considered it yet. I remember the ‘yet’ really pissed me off but at the same time I was just stunned. I felt like I was outside of myself. It was like this is happening to me, and I knew it, but it kind of felt like it was happening to someone else and I was just watching. It’s hard to describe. Then I pressed her one too many times. I wanted answers.
She said to me in almost a whisper that she was seeing someone else. Stupid me asked what she meant by seeing someone. She just looked at me and didn’t answer. I asked who. She didn’t answer. I asked how long. She wouldn’t say. I asked what about the kids. I was in total panic mode. Since we were out in public I couldn’t really do anything but just take it. I remember I said it wasn’t supposed to be this way. We were supposed to grow old together. Looking back I was a total wimp. If I could go back, I’d probably have a little more dignity about it.
Then she gave the final twist of the knife. She said she would call me when I calmed down and got up and started to walk out of the restaurant. I asked her to keep talking and she didn’t even look back. I told the waitress I would be back to pay, and I remember leaving my wallet on the table to let her know I was going to pay. I didn’t care if it was there when I got back. I just needed to talk some more. When I got outside of the restaurant, I watched her get into another guy’s car. I called out to her, but they just drove away leaving me standing outside the restaurant. I immediately called her cell phone about ten times. No answer every time.
I took a few seconds to gather myself, and then I raced in and paid the bill. It was all kind of a blur from there. I picked up the kids and went home and just sat on the sofa in shock. I had no one to call. I was too embarrassed to call anyone. It wasn’t their business. So, I just sat there staring at the TV, and I don’t even know if it was on. The phone rang the next morning, and she asked if we could meet at a park. I dropped the kids off at grandma’s. I called work and took what would become the next three days off. I met her at the park. I looked everywhere and didn’t see his car or him for the matter. It was dark when I last saw them at the restaurant and the windows were tinted so I didn’t get a good look. We sat down at a bench, and the first thing I noticed was she was showered and clean and wearing a t-shirt and shorts that weren’t hers. She was barefoot, because I guess she would have looked weird in gym shorts a t-shirt and high heels.
She asked if I was ok. I told her no. I asked her who. I had to know. She said his name was Joe Cheng, and she works with him. I thought to myself and Asian guy? I asked her how long, and all she would say is long enough. I asked them if they had been having sex. She just said what do you think? I said I don’t know. I wasn’t there. You tell me. She didn’t reply at all. We talked for a little while. I decided before I got there I wasn’t going to do anything stupid. I was going to be civil. But, she wouldn’t give me any information or answer my questions. She doled out bits and pieces. After a while of spinning our wheels she said she had to go. She speed dialed a number on her cell phone and let it ring. She didn’t talk. Then she started walking towards the parking lot. I kept asking her to talk it out, and she pretty much ignored me. I reached for her arm, and she snapped back with don’t you ever touch me. I remember that like it was yesterday. She wasn’t who I knew her to be. I saw his car pull up in the parking lot. He stayed in the car. Then I got nasty. I asked her if she liked Chinese dick better. How does Asian cum taste? She just kept walking, got in the car, and drove away.
From here on out everything was on her terms. She stayed with him for the next three days into the weekend. I don’t have to tell you what your imagination does to you. Mine was running wild. She came back Sunday night and as much as I wanted to talk, she wouldn’t. We slept on the same bed with no touching. That was weird. I’d get up, go to work, pick up the kids, and come home. She would get up drop the kids off, get off work, go to his place, and then come home late. On the weekends, she would usually stay late Friday and Saturday. She’d spend the night there if she got too drunk or tired or whatever. It was like this for almost two months. I hated it, but it became a routine.
We actually went to marriage counseling pretty religiously. We went together once a week, and she went once a week on her own. The counselor told her she needed to ‘cold-turkey’ drop her boyfriend and focus on the family, specifically the kids. She would say she wouldn’t stop seeing him, and the kids were the only reason she was in marriage counseling at all.
This counselor ended up saving our marriage. She was very sterile, but you could tell she had some decency and compassion to her. Her big thing was complete honesty. A lot of psychologists preach this. They call is brutal honesty, total truthfulness, and a bunch of other catch phrases. What it means is that both people have to fully disclose everything in order to move on. Now looking back, I don’t know if it was really necessary. It was almost cruel actually. I got to ask any question I wanted related to our relationship including her outside relationship since it directly affected us. She had to answer. The same was true for me. It was easy for me, because all I didn’t really do anything wrong. For her it was beyond embarrassing. The first question I asked was had they had sex. My wife really didn’t want to answer even though the three of us already knew the answer was yes. She said yes. I asked how many times. She asked the therapist is this was really necessary. The therapist nodded and then told me not to dwell on the details. My wife never answered.
It was really weird asking these questions with another person in the room. These were questions I really wanted to know and I felt like I was going to finally learn about it all. Then the therapist said that was a good start and we should continue that discussion on our own. She then started focusing in on our kids and rebuilding trust. That was a big thing with her.
When we got home, I figured it was time for 20 Questions. She said it was too stressful and then grabbed the keys and took off. I didn’t even bother asking where she was going to. That night when she came back, she said we could talk. We stayed up all night. We both had to call in sick because we were so tired. She said she would answer all of my questions except she wanted the lights off, and if I got mad or upset, she would stop right there. So I asked everything, and she answered.
I won’t say this helped us get back together. Total honesty is supposed to do that. But, it was almost a relief to give some reality to my imagination which was running overtime. I think I already knew the answers to most of my questions, but there was something in there just asking the questions. It’s hard to explain.
I asked her if she had given him blowjobs. She said yes. I asked if he went down on her. Yes. Any good? Yes. Better than me? She paused and then asked if I really wanted to know. That pretty much answered that one. I asked if they did 69. Again, I already knew the answers, but I just had to vocally ask them, and I needed her to say it. She said they did 69. I then, of course, asked the size question. She paused and said it was about the same as mine. I pressed her for more details, and she said he was Asian, so it actually was maybe a little smaller if not the same. This whole time my heart was racing. I was on adrenalin high. I know she could see my breathing was short and fast.
I asked if they did it doggie style. Yes. Missionary? Yes. Her on top? Yes. Which did she like better from him? Doggie style. Why? She said because he liked that better. I asked if they had anal sex. She said no. I asked again about anal. She started to get a little mad, and said no. Don’t ask the same questions twice. Did he give you any orgasms? She said usually when he went down on her, but not through intercourse.
Then I asked if she swallowed. She said yes. This is one question where it turns I didn’t already know the answer. She would never swallow for me. She was a spitter. It never bothered me, and I never asked her to swallow. I asked her why she swallowed for him. She said she wanted it to be the best for him kind of like she wanted to impress him. I don’t know why, but I can get over her on her knees sucking his dick, on her back getting drilled, and her legs spread wide getting licked, but the thought of her swallowing for him really pissed me off. I kept it in check though since I wasn’t done with the questions.
Did you like the taste of his cum? I tried not to taste it. I just wanted to swallow it for him. Did he have a lot of cum? She paused for a couple of seconds. Yes, she answered. She knew a yes answer would entail another question. Did he cum more than me? Yeah, he did most of the time. Did you do anything weird or kinky with him? What do you mean she asked? Did you do anything you don’t do with me? No. Except, and I vividly remember the except, he liked to put pillows under my butt if he was going down on me or if he was taking me missionary style. Oh, and he liked my feet. What did he do with your feet? Nothing really. He would always be rubbing them and kissing them. Did he lick your feet or your toes? No. He just massaged them and told me I had cute feet.
I then asked her if he came inside her. She said yeah. No rubbers? No, she said, she was on birth control as I should know. Did he come on your tits? Yes. Did he ask you if he could? No, I just did it when I was going down on him. He was getting ready to cum, so I let him cum on my chest. The other time he put some lotion on my boobs and started fucking my boobs. I ended up having to use my hand on him, but he finished on my chest. That was another thing we had never done. That’s pretty much all of the questions I can remember asking. I know there was a bunch more, but those were the main ones.
So, he was better than me at oral sex. She liked to swallow for him and not me. He got to have sex with her tits. He produced more cum than me. She let him cum insider her. That’s what I got out of the whole conversation.
The therapist would always keep telling me to live my life as an example to her and the kids. Let her see you accepting of her and taking care of everything because she is clearly in a fog and isn’t thinking clearly. The therapist said that after the initial thrill is gone, she would come out of the fog and see things a little differently. The fog thing was something the therapist kept harping on. Sure enough the extramarital relationship ended. I still don’t know if it was amicable or not or who ended it, but it ended.
Now given all of what she did, given her seeing him almost every night of the week for two months straight, and her telling me it was over, I decided to stay with her and keep the family together. She quit her job as soon as she found a new one. That helped out a lot, at least for me it did. She always lets me know where she’s at or where she’s going even though I don’t ask her to tell me. That was the therapist’s idea. We started having sex again. She swallowed for me one time, and she has since gone back to spitting. I didn’t ask her to swallow, but I think she did it more for me to make me feel a little better about the past.
I don’t think I’ve ever completely forgiven, which is one of the biggies from therapy, and I know for sure I haven’t forgotten. There are times when I can vividly see my wife, the mother of my children, on her back with her legs spread over some Asian guy’s shoulders getting hammered. I can see my beautiful wife on her knees kneeling before him on his bed sucking his dick, and then swallowing his cum. Then it’s back to reality and back to life and working and paying the bills and admitting to myself what she, my therapist, and some Asian guy knows—that I am a cuckold.

*** Name withheld ***

*** Edited/Spellchecked/Title given by request ***