A Change in Our Marriage - The Sissy Cuckold Read online

  But, a look of pain came over my face, something was not right. She noticed, "What, dear?"

  "Wait," I said, trying to solidify the thought in my head. "You said you could tell I was getting into it, right?"

  "Yes," she smiled shyly.

  "You could obviously tell you were pushing my sexual buttons?"

  "Yes, and dear, admit it, have you ever had such a great orgasm?"

  "Um, no, I..." the thought started leaving my head as I thought of our love making.

  "Wait...wait," I shook my head. "What about you?"

  "What do you mean," she asked, sitting upright.

  "You...you had an orgasm without oral sex," I said, almost in an accusatory tone.

  "Yes, baby," she smile, "you were good. Her words and her tone were guarded. Something was wrong all right.

  "I was good? Sara I didn't do a damn thing but lay there, you did all the work, you took the lead, you..."

  She looked away as the thought came full bore into my brain.

  "Sara, you...got off on it, too. This was not just about fulfilling my fantasy, about "being there" for me, no, dammit, you..."

  "John, wait," she whispered.

  "You were not just mouthing words you read on a web site, you were..." I could hardly say the words, I was whispering, "you were expressing your own fantasy." I gasped, I almost recoiled in horror. She was not just telling me what I wanted to hear, I think she was telling me what she wanted to say!

  "John, I told you, I was just reading back to you things I saw on those disgusting web sites you were visiting," she said, backing up from me.

  "Sara, you were not. You have never had an orgasm without me warming you up first with oral sex. You have told me before you had trouble, and I suppose I never really thought about it, but it's so clear to me, you were saying those things because YOU FANTASIZED ABOUT THEM! I'm not good enough for you!" I looked at her, the accusation dripping from my voice and my expression.

  She looked at me, her face hardening. Maybe I was wrong, and suddenly, I was the one feeling guilty. "Sara, I'm sorry...I...I didn't mean that...I don't know...you were only being nice to me, I..."

  "No, John, you're right," she whispered.

  "I really don't...right...what do you mean, 'I'm right'?"

  She couldn't meet my eyes when she spoke, "I...I read those web sites you were on. At first, for a couple of minutes, I was disgusted, that you would look at stuff like that, but then, I...started touching myself. I thought of one of the guys on one of the sites, some athletic guy, and I was staring at his dick. I was big...not huge, but...well, compared to...anyway, it was big. Anyway, reading about some wife, I wondered, and in my mind, I took her place."

  "Sara, are...are you saying I don't please you in bed." Fantasy aside, it was a direct shot to my manhood. But then, isn't this was cuckolding was about?

  "John, no...no that's not what I am saying at all. We have a wonderful sex life, you please me, it's just that...well, it's different."

  "Different? What do you mean different?"

  "It's like...well...in college, before we met, I was going out with some frat boy that played lacrosse. Don't get me wrong, he was not really my type, he was not sweet and sensitive, kind and tender, well, he was not husband material, like you are. But, there was one thing about him..."

  I felt complimented, in a way. 'Husband Material'.

  "What thing," I asked.

  She blushed. "He fucked like a horse."

  "Sara!"

  "No, John, you asked. He did not have the best personality, I admit, but he fucked me like nobody's business. His cock was big, almost too big, really, and he lasted forever. It was the most amazing sex..." her voice was caught in her throat as she looked at me.

  "Go on," I said, hurt.

  "I'm sorry, John, it was just different than what we have."

  "And you miss that."

  "No. Well, until I found your web sites, no, John, I did not miss it. But, yes, to be honest, reading that stuff, and this afternoon. Sometimes a woman likes that feeling. That feeling of being taken by the alpha male, the top bitch, thrown down and mounted like a trophy. It's...," she shook, lost in thought.

  "It's not what I do, I know," I said, hanging my head in shame.

  "John, please don't act this way. Don't lie to yourself. Don't lie to me. You were just as excited as I was before. You had a harder orgasm then you ever had. You actually gave me an orgasm. You can honestly say my words weren't turning you on?"

  "No...yes, I mean...they...they turned me on," I was forced to admit.

  "Yes, I thought so," she smiled, casually moving her hand to my leg. She started rubbing my leg, slowly working her way upwards, until her hand was under my robe, fingers wrapped around my cock.

  "Go on, you can admit it sweetie, it excites you to imagine your wife, on her back, legs spread, a real man, his big, hard cock, his sword, pressing into my pussy..."

  "Oh God, Sara," my cock was throbbing in her hand.

  She giggled, squeezing my cock, turning the tip purple.

  "Is that what you really want, John," she asked, "do you really want another man to fuck me?"

  I didn't know what to feel, and shuddered, almost a beginning of a sob. "Sara, I...I don't know what to feel, I'm so confused," I confessed.

  She let go of my cock. "What do you mean, confused?"

  "Well, guilty and a little angry, I guess," I said, though admittedly confused too.

  "Guilty about what?"

  "That...I have not been satisfying you."

  "Oh, John, don't you understand? You have been? You do satisfy me. Don't you get it? How much I love you? You satisfy me tremendously, because I love you. Sex, our sex life is an expression of our love, honey," she said, stroking my leg again.

  "I suppose you're right."

  "And angry? What are you angry about?"

  "Angry...and a little hurt," I said, "that you would actually fantasize about another man."

  "That's not fair, you know."

  "Not fair? What do you mean, it's not fair," I asked.

  "Not fair to be angry, John, because you were fucking looking at porn fantasizing about another man fucking me. You were looking at that shit, beating off, thinking of me, the woman you love, fucked by some stranger. That's not fair. Don't you dare fantasize about something like that and then get angry when I have the same fantasy. That's what is not fair," she said, crossing her arms, her eyes flashing with a mixture of anger, frustration, and wounded pride.

  "But Sara...I...," I didn't know what to say, because she was right. It was not at all fair for me to fantasize about the same thing she was fantasizing about yet be angry because she had those thoughts.

  She calmed back down rather quickly and looked at me. "John, please, remember something, I love you, I always loved you, I loved you from the very moments we started dating."

  My pride, though, was still a bit wounded. "Even though you were fucking some college guy that was obviously more of a man than me," I asked.

  "Dammit, John, are you not listening to me? I love you because you are not that man. I love you because of who you are, and what you mean to me, how you treat me, because of your femin...," her voice trailed off, "because of your tender side.

  Feminine? Feminine side? That's what she was about to say. But in a way, she was right. My tender side, feminine side, I suppose, is why I won her over a guy like that frat boy.

  While thinking about this, her hand drifted back to my cock. She wrapped her fingers around it, and looking at it, caressed it.

  "John, I love your tender side," she said, moving her hand.

  "I love your little cock." A shudder ran through my body.

  "I love how you make love to me in the most tender way, kissing and caressing me." Her fingers were driving me wild.

  "I love that you need to, no, want to make love to me with your mouth, and don't worry about this little thing." Her words were in a way, humiliating, but still, exciting, and affirmation of h
er feelings for me.

  She knew it too, and smiled, continuing to stroke me. "If you had a big cock like a real man, like that stud I fucked in college, you would never want to make love to me like you do, so tender, almost like another woman."

  I was starting to breathe heavily; my wife was thrusting at the core of my fantasies.

  "Sweetie, your little cockette is just perfect for our love making," she cooed.

  "So small and tender, so much like you."

  Her fingers continued their steady pace, stroking.

  "Few men are like you, small, tender, almost womanly, really. If I needed a man's cock inside me, there are lots of men I could fuck, but how many could give me what I get from you and your little, tender thing?"

  "If I ever want a real man inside me," she said, harshly, almost growling, "I would go find some big stud, with a big cock, to bend me over and fuck me like an animal."

  With those words, I stiffened, and exploded in orgasm all over her hand. She kept stroking me, slower and slower, letting my cum coat her hand, rubbing it into my skin. She moved her mouth to mine, kissed me deeply, "I love you," she said.

  I loved her too. Oh, how I loved her. Even coming down from an orgasm, again, my libido fading away, I loved and wanted her. I moved, breaking off our kiss, and kneeled before her, pushed her hips on the couch. She parted her legs, as my head went under the hem of her chemise. I kissed her moist lips, tasting her, sweetly enjoying, wanting to please her.

  Her hands moved to my head, rubbing it, massaging my hair, pushing and directing my efforts. I could feel her right hand, damp, sticky, my own mess being rubbed into my scalp and my face was pushed into hers. I made love to her. Orally. Like only I could.

  Manifestation of a Dream

  Our routine went on; our love making was as tender as always. I took a new pride in my ability to make love to my wife, orally, and she made a subtle and seemingly insignificant change in bed. Penetration, my mainstay of orgasmic bliss was slowly denied. Not in a forceful way, like a fantasy dominatrix would, but in a subtle way. She would stroke me while I made love to her, or return the gift of oral love making. Whereas before, she would excite me until after she had her orgasm, and mount me for mine, she was less aware of my own tolerance, and again and again, took me over the edge before we could maneuver into our traditional love making position.

  Subtle.

  She was bringing me to orgasm without actually "fucking" me. She may have thought I did not notice, but I did.

  "Sara," I said, one night in bed with her after our "tender" love making session.

  "Yes honey?"

  I looked over at her, but it was too dark in the bedroom to really see her face. "We...do you know...we have not had actual sex for several weeks now, really, since our 'talk' back then."

  "I know, sweetie, but aren't you happy?"

  "Happy," I ask?

  "Yes, you don't seem to be complaining."

  "No, Sara, no, but I...are you happy? I mean, without...?"

  She laughed. "Without cock? Honey, be honest, have I been getting cock before our little talk?"

  "Sara!"

  "No, John, do you think you have been giving me cock? Is that why you were looking at those cuckolding web sites? Cause you have been giving me a big salami ever night," she laughed?

  "Sara, I..."

  "John, I haven't gotten cock in a long time."

  Again, she toyed with my emotions, played with my fantasies, and fuck, was actually exciting me.

  I said nothing.

  She laughed, touched my face in the dark, "John, I'm teasing you, honey. Yes, I like it when you give it to me, but honestly, I also like it very much how we have been the last few weeks. It's such a different thing, real love making, not fucking. It's such an emotional connection."

  "I see," I said.

  "In fact, John, it's really what we have always had, a tender relationship, outside the bedroom, and now inside. You are happy, are you not, making love to me like that?"

  Was I? Was I happy and satisfied with our sex lately? I had to admit that I was. "Yes, Sara, but..."

  "But nothing, honey, you are the most tender, patient, kind, and soft lover I could ever want. I mean, it's almost like you are a woman, that we are two women making love to one another, and it's a very powerful feeling to me, and I hope to you."

  Again, the subtle reinforcement from her to me that I was less than a man to her.

  "John, you know, that's really it," she said, clearly thinking about it, "tender love, like a woman. That is always what I wanted from you, and always treasured, your tenderness. Maybe in some strange way, I always wanted that, something like another woman, softness in my partner."

  She was really pushing my buttons now. A softness? Like another woman? Since our showdown three weeks ago, she was subtlety attacking my manhood again and again.

  "Still, Sara, I feel like I am not doing what a husband should be doing for his wife," I said, conflicted still about my place.

  "John, you are doing everything I want from you, everything I want from my husband," she said, tenderly, "you are everything I could ever want from my partner, because a big, hairy, strong, masculine stud is NOT what I want, it's not what I wanted for my marriage."

  "But, come on Sara, you are a woman, don't you miss...miss it?"

  "Miss it, sweetie," she baited me?

  "Yes, do you miss it?"

  "Miss what?"

  I didn't want to say it, but the words came out, "miss a real man."

  "Maybe a little," she giggled, "but I have the man I want." She stroked my cheek, and kissed me.

  "Besides, honey, it's been so long, I almost forget what its like. Really, since we started dating, you and your tenderness are all I've had, well...mostly..."

  Mostly? What the fuck did she mean, mostly? "Mostly?"

  She just giggled. Was she fucking with me or did she fuck, I wondered. What can of worms was opened up when she found my porn stash?

  "Sara," I said, sternly, "what do you mean, mostly?"

  "Oh, nothing, silly," she answered, kissing my, and rolling over, ending our discussion.

  Mostly?

  Mostly!

  I played on my mind as I lay there, unable to sleep. What was this? What did I want? Did I really want something like I fantasized about? Did I really want my wife fucking another man? Was cuckolding something I really wanted, or was it all fantasy? Lines were blurred here, I wasn't sure what I wanted, what she wanted, and had no plan.

  I was scared.

  Stages Set

  I woke up on Friday morning to Sara rooting around the bedroom. She often left for the office before I even got out of bed, because her job as an assistant general counsel at a large hospital meant that work started for administration when doctors began arriving, at 7:00 or so. She was usually out of the house by 6:30.

  In my post sleep haze, I saw her putting on her pantyhose, and I started to turn over, and cover my head with a pillow. Something hit in my brain, and after a minute or so, I turned back and looked at her. She was rolling a black stocking up her left leg; her right leg was already sheathed in a matching stocking, clipped to a black satin garter belt.

  Those were obviously not pantyhose. She wore stockings, hell, I had begged her to wear them for years, but she only wore them when we went out to a special dinner, and on occasion, in the bedroom. Stockings were not for the office, which was when she wore pantyhose.

  I looked closer at what she had on, her matching black satin garter belt, panty and bra set. Lingerie from a high class web site, Secretsinlace.com, which specialized in high class, classic lingerie.

  "Sara," I said, "what are you doing?"

  "Shhh, honey, I didn't mean to wake you, go back to sleep."

  "It's okay. What are you doing?"

  "I'll be done in a minute, I am just getting dressed for work." She attached the stocking to the garter straps, and picked up a black A- line skirt from a hanger. Still in a sleep haze, I watched her ste
p into the skirt, shimmy it up her legs, over her beautiful ass, and zip it up. She stepped into some strappy heels, which like the lingerie, were out of character for her for the office. A bit too formal. Finally, she slipped a light blue silk blouse on, and buttoned it up.

  Looking at herself in the mirror, she smiled, and undid one of the top buttons, revealing just a hint of bra and breast.

  "Sara?"

  "Shhh."

  "Sara, why are you dressed...dressed like that?"

  "Honey, I'm just trying to look nice today, our Corporate General Counsel is coming up for the week, and, well, you know, I figure I might as well use everything I have to make an impression."

  "But, why the lingerie? Why the stockings?"

  "Silly, they make me feel very feminine...much easier to charm and flirt if I need to. You should try it some time," she laughed.

  That comment flew right by me. "Flirt?"

  "Shhh, go back to sleep," she said again, walking out of the room.

  I lay there, drifting in and out of sleep, my cock erect, from my vision of Sara walking out of the bedroom, dressed like that. "Flirt," I thought.

  After I got dressed and went into the office, I tried to call Sara, but got her voice mail all day. It said she was in the office, but in conference today. I left several messages, but never heard back from her.

  Finally, at 6:00, my cell rang, Sara's cell number was on the caller ID. "Sara, I've been trying to..."

  She cut me off. "John, I know, I'm sorry, I've been in meetings all day and," she giggled, "stop," she said to someone, "John, sorry, anyway, I've been tied up all day."

  "Yes, Sara, but,"

  "Brad, stop," she laughed to someone again.

  "Sara, are you there?"

  Still giggling she said, "Yes, sorry John, anyway I was saying, sorry I couldn't call. Can you fix yourself dinner, Mr. Page, our GeneralCounsel, is taking me to dinner so we can finish up a few thing, Iwon't be too late, I promise."

  "Sara, are you..."

  "Sorry John, I have to go, I will see you a bit later."

  The phone went dead. I tried to call back her cell, but again, it rolled over to voice mail. Dammit, what is she doing? This behavior was not like her.