The Night I Decided to Cuckold Him

I knew I wanted to cuckold him the moment he walked through the door that night. The way he looked at me — tired, trusting, completely unaware of what had been simmering in my mind all day — made the fantasy sweeter. I love when desire catches me like that… quiet, warm, a little wicked.

I imagined him standing there, loosening his tie, while another man’s hands were already on my hips. I pictured the way he’d freeze, the way his breath would hitch, the way his body would react before his mind could make sense of any of it. There’s something intoxicating about the idea of him watching — helpless, overwhelmed, aroused in a way he can’t explain.

Curiosity turns into Cuckold Desire

That’s the part of cuckolding I crave… not the shock, not the betrayal, but the surrender. The way a good man softens when he realizes he wants to see me taken, touched, claimed… and the way his need twists into something deeper than jealousy.

I don’t want to humiliate him for sport. I want to open him. To let him feel everything he’s scared to ask for — the ache, the thrill, the helplessness, the heat. One of these nights, he’ll come home from work, loosen his tie… and find out I’ve been saving this fantasy just for him. And when he does, I’ll watch his knees weaken, his eyes darken, his body tremble… because deep down, he’s been waiting for this too.