Video Nude

Thursday, March 1, 2012

When did it start

Do you think it started with Emily? Do you think this is the first time I've had these feelings, these thoughts, these urges, these desires?

Are you kidding me? I've had them all my adult life.

All of it?

Yes, all of it, since I was eighteen. Since high school.

High school, when the girl I was dating cheated on me and I stayed with her and the next time we screwed, she pushed my head, wanting me to go down on her. And I did, knowing that a week earlier another guy, a football player, an alpha guy, fucked her, had cum inside her. I was shaking as I crawled down the bed, licked my way down her stomach, imagining I could still smell it, the stench of sex, of musk, of cum. I was shaking as I stuck my tongue out towards her eighteen year old pussy, shaking with fear and shame, for instead of dumping her, after she fucking cheated on me, I had begged her to stay with me, and now she was quite literally rubbing my face in what she'd done.

The first lick, the first taste, was the most emasculating thing I'd ever done in my life. The room was dimly lit, but I could see, there were candles lit, fucking candles, I lit fucking candles for her to be romantic, as opposed to throwing her down and fucking her like he did. The candles gave off soft light, softly illuminated her pussy so I could see it as I stuck my tongue out, licked her, emasculated myself. Yes, emasculated myself. I could see her clearly, could picture it in my mind, the guy, his cock out, pushing into her, fucking her, cumming in her. And I licked it. Instead of telling her to fuck off, I begged her to stay with me, first with words, then with my tongue. I licked her, not once, either, a hundred times that night, a thousand. I licked her for an hour, maybe two, licked her to orgasm after orgasm, every lick, every taste, a reminder of the cock that was inside her seven days earlier.

With every single lick, I thought of it, cock, touching her, filling her, I thought of her moaning like she was now, only doing it with him inside her. And I licked and I licked and I licked.

Why? Why did I emasculate myself like that? Because every lick made me harder, every taste got me more excited, every thought of him cum inside her drove me wild with excitement.

I doubt she ever saw me as a man again, fuck, I doubt she ever saw me as a man, period.

Even after we got married.

You see, it didn't start with Emily. No, no, not at all. It's just better with Emily as Emily loves me like my first wife never did.

She never told me again she was cheating on me (she did) or that she cuckolded me (what else could it be when I knew?)

She would have "girls nights out", you know, the stereotypical thing a woman has when she's cheating, when she wore sexy lingerie, lingerie I fucking bought for her, lingerie I picked out for her to wear when she went out. We never discussed it, but at some point, it was apparent we both knew the other knew.

Once, one of her friends told me, tried to tell me, anyway, which was funny, because I already knew.

She would go out two or three Saturdays a month, wearing matching bras and panties from Victoria's Secret, wearing the thigh high stay up stockings they sold back then, and get home late, two, three in the morning. I'd be horny when she got home, fuck would I be horny. But she was always too tired to screw. Always. And her response was always the same. Always.

"I'm too tired to screw," she'd say, "but I'll let you lick me for awhile if you really want to, if you ask. Nicely."

Did I want to? I fucking wanted to every time. And I did, every time. I'd ask her. I'd practically beg her. I'd go down on her and lovingly lick her, suspecting, no, knowing, that many of those nights, maybe most of those nights, she'd already been fucked, and that all I was tasting was not her.

Sometimes, she would be so hot, she'd get so worked up from me licking her, she'd relent and let me inside her. Not that I ever made her cum like that, I was much too quick, premature, sooooo premature.

She invited it, really. "Please," I'd beg, "please can we."

She'd usually tell me no, make me keep licking her until she was done. But sometimes she would say yes. "Fine, fine," she'd frown, "you know I don't really like that, so just make it quick." Oh, she liked that, she liked to fuck, just not with me, especially after she'd already fucked that very night.

Eventually it ended. Painfully.

So you see, Emily is not the first.

But Emily won't end the same. Trust me.

I love Emily. She loves me back. Unconditionally. I trust Emily. Completely.

The first one cheated on me, cuckolded me, treated me with cruelty.

Not Emily. Not ever. Not once.

Some things are the same, they both like to fuck men.

Everything else is different. Everything.

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