Woe is me…

So my last blog left you with an intense description of my adventures with J. bull and I promised to explain a little more in detail about my new girlfriend. This blog addition will encompass my girlfriend, whom I will endearingly refer to as “Kitty”, and my recent misadventures. Without further ado…

Kitty and I met on FetLife and it was an instant click. She and I seem to be mirror images of each other. It was so relieving to have found another woman, a hot woman no less, that shared the same views on sex as I do. Kitty and I decided to hit the town and shake shit up a bit.

I have never mentioned the Italian before, but he comes into play on this night. The Italian reads my blogs and was very interested in me and what I do. He called me incessantly (and annoyingly, I might add). He was incapable of holding a conversation about anything except sex- oh and panties jobs (which I had to Google to find out what they were).

So when the Italian called and asked what I was doing for the weekend, notoriously honest me answers with the truth. I told him that my girlfriend and I were headed downtown to the clubs for dancing. I got somewhat lost as to when this happened, but somehow the Italian invited himself along. I am always amazed at how fast thoughts can process in a split second, but in that minute timeframe I was able to fluidly move from the thoughts: “I really don’t want to see this creepy jackass” to “this creepy jackass wants to spend money on me and this night on the town could be free…” Being a Cuckoldress comes so natural to some.

Kitty and I were dressed to the nines that night. Kitty wore a sexy pair of slinky black groucho pants and a very low cut (extremely low cut) pattern printed tank top with little bitty kitty heels (tee-hee, that kitty reference was not intended). I wore a completely see through pink tank top with a black bra, a short denim skirt with lace legging underneath, and a pair of clear heeled platform, six inch heels with diamond studs down the stiletto. The night hadn’t even started yet, it was still daylight, and we were already turning heads.

The Italian shows up reeking of smoke, but he had lots of cash… We went to the first club, {It is known that I reside in Colorado Springs, so I will use the actual names of the clubs.} Blondie’s is a very laid back, very grown-up type of atmosphere. There is no dancing. There is even a piano. It is always nice to start the night off slowly here. The Italian stepped up to the bar and asked what I drink. My usual is Malibu, Diet Coke, and a lime. He ordered an entire round of the same drink. We had three, I believe, before the Italian started telling us how he would buy us a pair of panties for every day of the year. His bullshit was getting deep, but as long as he kept buying drinks and paying the cover charge then he could come along.

We left and went to Cowboys almost directly across the street. I believe that we only had one drink here (of the same sort). Kitty and I were not dressed for Cowboys, but it is pretty much standard that you must hit Cowboys at least once at some point in your adventures down Tejon Street. The Italian did what he was supposed to do; he paid the cover charge and bought the drinks. Kitty and I went to the bathroom and I pulled her into the handicapped stall. I kissed her hard. I lightly kissed down her neck while sliding my hand into her pants. Finally, I pulled her pants down (while trying to balance on my six inch stripper heels) and ate her right there. Just about the time she started to moan, people came into the bathroom and we headed back out onto the dance floor. Kitty and I danced the Electric Slide and left and headed to The Ritz.

Usually The Ritz has a live band on the weekends. I love a live band and so I was the one who urged to go there. I do not drink often and I am not able to hold my liquor very well. Kitty and I headed to the bathroom again. After everything was said and done, I began to kiss Kitty again. It was getting passionate when the (women’s) restroom door flew open and there was the Italian! He had no concept of how to properly behave in public in the United States. He was annoying. We left the bathroom and the Italian bought us Malibu drinks again. We left because the band was not that good and this club is known for fights.

Next and last on the list for the night was Rum Bay. The Italian paid our cover and bought us a drink. Kitty and I started dancing and we were an instant dance floor spectacle! She and I were dancing together and some black guy started grinding against the back of her and almost immediately after another black guy was grinding behind me. She and I kissed and danced and everyone was watching. Oddly enough, the Italian started *trying* to dance with the four of us, but it was awkward and we just pushed him out. At one point, the Italian asked Kitty and I if we were going to buy him a drink. We laughed, said no, and turned to go back to the dance floor. About the time that the Italian financially cut us off, we completely cut him off. We didn’t even know where he was in the club and we could care less.

Kitty had found her a pretty little muscle built black man and I had a massive black man on my side too. We sat down to give our feet a rest. We looked like a pretty little Oreo cookie (pardon the horrible analogy) with a black man on either side of us and her and I snuggled next to each other.

We gave our phone numbers to each respective guy and took our little party out to the alley. Being fingered in the alley is so much fun! I am not sure if it was the alcohol or the excitement of the night, but I really enjoyed being fingered at that point.

Then the Italian found us….

We decided at that point it was time to go home. Kitty called a friend to come and pick us up. We climbed into the car while the Italian was whining and begging us to come to a hotel with him. Kitty and her friend dropped me off in front of my house. Hubby came out to greet me on the sidewalk. He begged to fuck me. I was just drunk enough to let him, at least for a few minutes…

The next day, the Italian begged Kitty and I to let him take us out again. We agreed and said that he could meet us the next Friday at McKenzie’s Chop House downtown. We only agreed because it was a very reputable restaurant and it included him blowing more money on us. Kitty and I had already come to the understanding that we would have to eventually give a little to get a little… meaning that we were prepared to put out a little ass to keep the cash flow moving.

We agreed to meet the Italian at 7:30. The Italian was coming from Boulder which is an hour and a half drive at the least. So when she and I arrived downtown at 7:00, I called him to see where he was at. He didn’t answer. The call went to voice mail. I waited a few minutes and tried again. Again, it went to voice mail. Kitty did the same thing and twice it went to voice mail. That was it! No second chances.

We called hubby for ideas for the rest of the night. Hubby offered to chauffeur us around town. This allowed for Kitty and I to have a little fun in the backseat. Hubby parked the car in a remote parking lot and Kitty and I began undressing each other. She has such a pretty pussy! I began to finger fuck her. I started with just two fingers, but the more she started to thrash around, I increased it to four fingers. She moaned and coyly bit her lip. She was so incredibly hot and I could feel that she was about to cum. She whispered for me to go faster. The faster I pumped my hand into her pussy the more she thrashed and the louder she got. Finally, she began to cum and squirted me everywhere. It was so beautiful! After she came, I kissed her and we both suddenly remembered that hubby was in the driver’s seat. We looked over and hubby was feverishly pumping his cock with a look of shock on his face. He was too cute.

The work week drug on and on and finally we came to the long holiday weekend. Yesterday I decided to take a bit of a “me day” and I went shopping at the mall. The black guy from Rum Bay, whom I will refer to as “T”, text me and asked if I had any time for meeting him. Sure, why the hell not? I told him he could meet me at the Citadel Mall. We walked around and talked a little bit and decided to go all the way back across town to Indigo Joe’s for lunch. While we were at lunch, T kept looking at his cell phone. I asked him if he had any place to be. He replied, “Hopefully inside of you after this.” That was cute. Okay, sure… Let’s do this.

I followed him back to his apartment. He let me in and I was immediately taken aback by the filth! I couldn’t believe it. He seemed to be at ease in this pig sty. He lead me into what I can only assume was his bedroom, and presented an un-sheeted mattress and began kissing on me. You have got to be fucking kidding me! I made him spread a sheet over the mattress before I would even walk near it. I figured I would give it a go… He did have a pretty big cock…

The whole act of sex just seemed to be him jostling me around on the mattress. It was probably the worst fuck I have ever had! Horrible! To add to his filthy house, he pulled the condom off and threw it on the floor! UGH! I quickly dressed and left. I called hubby and explained that THAT would never happen again (meaning I would never fuck that guy again).

He text me later and ranted about what a great lay I am and how he can’t wait to fuck me again. What the fuck? I know that I am a good lay. I know exactly what I bring to the table in a sexual encounter. Why don’t men wear some sort of warning around their necks announcing that they are an awful lay?

Woe is me…

J. Bull

If you religiously follow my Twitter profile then you will have already been anticipating this particular blog… As I have mentioned in my most recent blurb announcing more upcoming blogs, I have recently fell into a relationship with my “boyfriend”. I may be in a relationship, but I am not committed. I am only committed to one person and that is my cuckolded hubby. A friend recently summed it all up in a quote, “You are not afraid of commitment; you are terrified of monogamy.” Yes, yes… that is me in a proverbial nutshell. So in addition to my new boyfriend, I have also been talking to J. Bull. I was going to combine a blog of my transgressions with J. Bull and a new girl I met recently, but I finally decided that J. Bull deserves a blog all to himself (stay tuned, the blog about the girl is next)…

J. Bull and I didn’t seem to have the best start. He annoyed me and misinterpreted most of everything I said. After a while, I think he began to understand that most of what I say is either sarcasm or is so smart assed that it is not to be taken seriously. After a break in communication for almost a month, he (strategically, I think) began texting me again just to “see how things were going”. After only about a week, I began to really look forward to chatting with him. How could this be? I had no intention of getting too in depth with this guy. He was a cocky asshole. He was arrogant. He was just too damn smart. As it turns out, those traits that disgusted me so much before the communication break are exactly the traits that drew me to him later.

Last Saturday evening, I unintentionally showed up for our date 30 minutes late. Geez! I am never late! Great first impression…

Hubby was supposed to sit in the bar with us to do what he loves and does best… watch. I realize what a small bar this was and we decided that he should wait in the car instead. Hubby decided that he was going to go for a drive to process his cuckold thoughts… too bad because it all began right there on the very curb where he dropped me off.

I arrived at the bar and called J. Bull and told him to come outside. The streets were bare and the bar was more than half empty. I could have easily found him in the bar, but I always try to have some sort of control of any situation. When he came out the door, there was no mistaking who I was… He immediately walked up to me and kissed me. That was equally surprising and pleasing. I have never been initially greeted for the first time like that. This was off to a nice start.

It was such a small bar that they didn’t serve merlot or Malibu (not to mention that they didn’t even have lime). I was a little put off by how apparently backwoods this bar was turning out to be. J. Bull brought my very simple drink to me. We began to talk. An hour flew by like nothing. I was very much enjoying the conversation. I cannot really recall who made the suggestion, but we ended up walking down the alley right next to the bar. Just as I began to make a joke about how a psycho would take me down a dark alley, he had one hand around my neck and the other firmly gripped in my hair. He shoved me up against the wall and began kissing me, nibbling my neck and rubbing my crotch through my pants. He began ripping at my pants to get them down. Instead of risking him ruining my favorite pants, I unbuttoned them for him. His hand immediately slipped inside my pants and he had two fingers deep inside my pussy and was rubbing my clit with his thumb. I was so dumbfounded and lost in the moment that I couldn’t even think. I couldn’t resist. I could only exist and be consumed by him. I came. I came quickly and definitely. I was weak in my legs. I was wobbly on my high heels. That is about the time that I realized exactly how bright the area we were in was and exactly how public and exposed we were. I told him that I would return the favor, but we had to find a more secluded spot.

Without missing a beat, J. Bull laced his fingers in mine and we began walking. We walked and talked and joked and poked fun of each other, but didn’t find an appropriately secluded place for me to take him to an equally euphoric level of orgasm. Then, as if we were a couple of sex drunk teenagers, we realized that although a truck may not be optimal, it was definitely an option.

He walked me to his massive truck (no, he was not compensating for anything by the way). This truck was so large (the size of the truck matters for reference later in this blog) that I literally had to climb up and into the front seat. The only other truck that I have been in that may have been bigger (the cab) was a U-Haul type of truck. He started driving to look for a secluded road. We found this desolate road. I think it might have lead to a private drive, but he still pulled off to the side and parked.

J. Bull killed the engine and started toward me. He started grabbing at my pants again. I pushed him back and tried for his pants because what’s fair is fair… It was his turn. We fought and struggled for a little while trying to overpower each other. In the end, of course, he won. Not many men are truly dominant. Most men are either entirely or partly submissive. J. Bull is entirely and completely dominant. It was so refreshing and invigorating to be completely dominated. Once he got my pants and heels off, he started licking and kissing the bottom of my foot. I have been privy to a great variety of fetishes and yet I have never had someone dote on my feet like this before. I was enthralled with the new sensations.

He buried his face in my dripping wet pussy. I came almost instantly! He nuzzled my clit a little more before pulling his face up for me to lick it clean. I was in heaven! At that point, I got my chance to focus all my energy and graciousness on him. I sucked his cock with as much attention and detail as I could muster (in such a confined place). We went back and forth like this several times. Honestly it all becomes a bit of a blur for me. I know at one point, he went down on my pussy and strategically found my g-spot. I have never said such a constant string of curse words in my life. I was thrashing around in the front seat of his truck.

The air was thick and the windows were fogged and I was practically spent, but he leaned forward for me to clean his face. I felt his dick press against my lacy panties. I reach down and began to rub the head of his cock against the lace. It felt so good that I pulled my panties aside and rubbed the head of his dick directly against my clit. I wanted him. I was trembling! I wanted him so badly!

I think it was all part of his sexual strategy, but he pulled back and told me to clean my juices off his cock. Not a problem… Again, everything is so euphoric that it gets blurry. He was again, over top of me and I was again rubbing his dick all over my pulsating pussy. My body was begging him for his. I wanted him inside me so desperately! Then without any sort of warning, he slammed his cock inside me and began pounding me with a ferocity that I have never before experienced. I wasn’t sure if I was in ecstasy or fear or pain or even still in the truck at that point. I have never experienced anything like that before. Then, in the midst an experience I will surely remember until my dying day, an orgasm exploded inside me. I felt as if my insides were on fire. Any words I choose in an attempt to describe this moment fall short and fail to convey exactly how I felt.

J. Bull pulled away again and told me to clean his cock yet again. Happily, I began slurping on his cock hoping to bring him to at least a small portion of the pleasure he just gave me. I have no idea how long I was down there, but at one point he jerked and started saying, “Lights, lights, lights…” I looked up and saw a set of headlights behind us. I was expecting the car to pass us like another has earlier, but this one pulled up right next to the truck. With adrenaline surging, I began to scramble to pull my pants on and I don’t even think he had his pants on before he tried to turn the truck around with a 15-point turn (remember the truck size reference). We sped out of there. Once we got to a main road, J. Bull stopped to pull his pants on. It was all so frightening and exciting. I felt like I was 17 again!

I called hubby and told him where to meet us. We pulled up into the parking lot of a closed restaurant. J. Bull told me to suck his dick while we waited for hubby to come pick me up. Obligingly, I leaned over on my knees (my ass slightly in the air) and began sucking his cock that was still perfumed with my pussy. Hubby pulled up behind the truck and called my cell phone (he has a unique ring tone so that I know it is him without even looking). I ignored the call and finished sucking his cock. He began to moan and then started yelling and shot a hot load of cum deep into my throat. I had never heard a man cum like that before. It was so hot! I kissed him goodbye and got into the vehicle with hubby.

Hubby already had his dick out because apparently he was watching the truck sway back and forth while I sucked him dry. Hubby took me home to enjoy a nice little slice of cream pie…

Even typing this blog out now and thinking about this event and even about him, I have butterflies in my stomach and a pulse in my nether-region… He literally sent me over the edge and we were confined to the front seat of a truck. I cannot wait to have him (or really him have me) in an actual bed- or at least a building.

HEY! Long Time No See!

I know it has been months since my last actual blog. I know I keep promising to answer your questions. I promise to keep that promise! Let me give you an update to my craziness known as life…

As I mentioned in many of my other blogs, my cucky hubby was out of town for an extremely long amount of time. He finally came back at the beginning of this year. That should make life easier, right…? Well, in a sense, it did, but it has still been quite an adjustment period. Then you factor in some fast paced school I had to attend and you have a recipe for stress. Oh… but there is more… Sprinkle in my parents moving into our house and you have a cake fit for a nervous breakdown!

Seriously, though, all is very well and fine for my family and me. It is just very difficult for me to find private time to sit down and blog. I have been able to become more active on my other social network sites (FetLife and FaceBook), but to take the time to write a blog and edit it was going to be tricky. The only reason I am able to do it now is because it is Memorial Day and I set my alarm.

I still have to share the story of my cuckolding my hubby the night he flew back home and waited for me at the airport while I was being consumed by gianormous black cock. I still have to elaborate on the few stories I have alluded to in other blogs. I also still have to explain this relationship I have just begun and how infatuated and head over heels I am for my new “boyfriend”.

I had to sever ties between my blog, Twitter account, FaceBook and my FetLife account. I met my new boyfriend on FetLife. So I am sure I am going to get a little itch for some strange at some point, and you all know that I will (eventually) blog about my escapades. I am really falling hard for my new boyfriend, but I am just not cut out for a monogamous relationship (ask my hubby). Now, my cuckold hubby may get turned on about my cheating on him, but my boyfriend may not enjoy it so much. So… I separated my accounts so that my boyfriend won’t know when I cheat on him. Make sense?

Okay ya’ll, stay tuned and I will try to sneak some more time to keep you updated!

Interested…

As I mentioned in previous posts, I am looking to get out and date more soon. I have absolutely no problem picking up men, but I thought I would reach out and try this…

If (and ONLY if) you are in the Colorado Springs area and would like to meet with me you must follow these set rules:

1. You must be at least 21 years old and be able to produce photo identification to prove this age.

2. Send me a private message (via my facebook link, under my tweets and profile picture on this site) with the following information:

a. First name

b. Age

c. Height/ Weight

d. Cock size

i. HONEST length and girth

ii. Cock photo

e. A face photo

3. You must be flexible and project a date and place to meet.

a. I have my own personal life; I prefer dates on evenings and weekends.

b. This will be an actual date. Although I will meet you at your proposed (public) place, you will be a chivalrous date and pay the bill.

c. You must not whine or complain if I have to change our date (I do have my own personal/private life outside of cuckoldry).

4. You must be willing to provide a cell phone number and send/receive text and have an occasional phone conversation by my discretion.

5. You must be wiling to communicate for a stint of time to establish comfort levels before the actual meeting.

If the date goes well and we mutually decide to set a date and time to fuck… You have more rules:

1. You must be able to furnish proof of health (i.e. STD tests) if requested.

2. You must be able/willing to provide a place for us to fuck (the backseat of you vehicle does NOT count).

a. If we decide to continue fucking regularly:

i. You must be willing to fuck me in front of my husband

ii. You must be willing to be photographed (identifying features blurred or distorted).

3. You must wear a condom… NO EXCEPTIONS!

I am NOT interested in:

1. Cuckolding other men (besides my husband)

2. Anal sex

3. BDSM (any sort of sexual violence)

4. Liars: If you lie to me about ANYTHING whatsoever, you are out and will not be given a second chance.

If you are willing to abide by these rules, then please send me a message and maybe we can get together sometime.

In the beginning…

I have had several requests for me to dive into the stories about how our cuckold lifestyle got started. It has taken me a few days to really reflect on my/our past to decide exactly how I would present this. I finally came to the conclusion that the only appropriate way to present it was in its rawest and truest form.

Ready or not, here it comes…

I (for lack of a less clichéd phrase) blossomed at a very young age. Girls who look like women also seem to develop their sexuality on a different level than other girls their age. Because of my hyper-developed body and sexuality developing right behind it, I always got a lot of attention. I tried very hard to maintain my strong Baptist upbringing, but masturbation seemed to be my only secret outlet. I masturbated often and at a young age. Soon my seemingly insatiable appetite for self-sexual-gratification grew curiouser, and curiouser. My virginity had to go! I lost it at age 14 and, depending on which perspective you take, it was all downhill (or uphill) from there.

A devout Baptist southern girl must maintain appearances and a loose-girl reputation would surely tarnish that appearance. I knew I was sleeping around, but I just didn’t talk about it. No harm no foul, right? I remember, distinctly, asking my bestfriend in high school if she thought I was a slut. She carefully responded, “You aren’t exactly a slut, but I think you are a little easy.”

Society deems any girl or woman who deeply loves sex as a slut. Society has also added the negative connotations to the word “slut”. I wanted to experience as much as I could sexually as often as I could. Being called “easy” didn’t seem to deter me. I moved on to my first threesome and polyamorous relationship in just the 10th grade. By the 11th grade I decided that I didn’t want to be with any *one* boy and refused any and all propositions of exclusive dating. I was the only teenage girl I knew that carried her own box of condoms.

Years passed and I was still an active “closet slut”, but I felt sure that something was really missing. I was blatantly submissive. Being submissive felt hollow and meaningless. It never felt fulfilling. Something was surely missing and my aching craving for fulfillment grew exponentially.

I learned to hide these pursuits from any man I was seeing. Men tend to frown on the thought of the woman that they were fucking was off fucking around any time they were not sexually available. Cavemen… Then I met hubby (he was obviously not referred to then as “hubby”, but for the benefit of a more streamlined story, he will from here on out be known as “hubby” regardless of the referenced time period)…

I am not going to get into all the goo-goo ga-gas of it all. There was definitely a spark between hubby and me. We were ravenous for each other, but we mutually decided that because we both acknowledged this spark we would wait to sleep together. This plan felt emotionally satisfying but physically disappointing. I would spend “quality” emotional time with hubby and once I left his house or he dropped me off at my house, I was out on the prowl or on the phone calling over a booty call. I suppose I was cuckolding hubby before I even knew about cuckoldry.

Slowly hubby began to drop clues that I mentally took note of, but hadn’t added them up to anything. One of the most notable clues that he dropped was also a blatant clue… maybe a last ditch effort to pull me in… was when hubby asked me if I knew the definition of “cuckold”. This makes me laugh even to this day when I think of it. Hubby actually wanted me to take out a dictionary and look up the word.

I had never heard of this word… this ideology… this lifestyle before. It all seemed surreal. It seemed unlikely. It seemed just way too good to be true! Was it possible that I could be with the man that I had fallen for AND still get as much cock as I did before? Was this what it was meant by the phrase “have your cake and eat it too”?

Hubby baby-stepped me into everything. I think he approached it all properly that way because I couldn’t shake this paranoid feeling that he was setting me up. First, hubby explained that I was such an amazing sexual woman that he couldn’t bear to keep me all to himself. He felt that he had to share me. So I continued sleeping with all my old booty calls.

Then he explained how hot it would be if he was able to watch me fuck someone else. Hubby and I will never forget the first time he watched me fuck. We still laugh about it to this day. The lucky “Bull” didn’t last but maybe 5 minutes. It all turned out to be more awkward than hot, but everyone has to start somewhere.

Hubby even expressed his desire to be chastised and how desperately he wanted to be fed a cream pie.

I think that the first cream pie was the hardest thing for him. As much as he fantasized about tasting another man’s cum straight out of me, it still repulsed him to an extent. Practice makes perfect… I think what finally pulled him through his reservations was when he was enjoying his sloppy seconds (my favorite) and he pulled out his dick and realized it was covered with another man’s cum (also my favorite). Cream pies seem to come easier for him after that.

I am sure I do not have to explain how at some point through all of this I found a dominant seed inside me. Cuckoldry made this dominance grow and grow. The unsure, submission that was in me before is no where to be found now.

We have taken some hard knocks in and around our cuckoldry, but we never doubted it. Nothing has ever fit as well as cuckoldry and my hubby.

Anonymous Asshole

I updated the settings on this site to allow people, members or not, to leave comments on my blogs. Luckily I require approval before the comment can be seen by everyone. I was so angry by one comment that I immediately rejected and deleted it before I had a chance to comment back, but the more I thought about it the more I couldn’t let this go! Judgmental, narrow-minded, stereo-typical assholes that feel that they have to impose their beliefs on others… You started it, you wanted a response, you got it!

Anonymous,

You began your comment very open minded and it was almost as if you were taking the time to brag about your own sexual escapades on my blog. I am sorry to say, though, that having many orgies does not make you A.) experienced in all sexual activities, B.) an expert on alternative lifestyles, or C.) Dr. Fucking-Ruth!

Your rendition of the gender specific stereotypes concerning open and illicit sex was accurate (for everyone else: this naïve person explained that if a man was to sleep around then everyone would feel sorry for his wife and wonder if the man *beat* her into thinking that this was okay, but if a woman does it then it is considered seductive), but no one pitches a fit if the exact same stigma is put on a single woman who sleeps around and she is called a slut whereas a single man who sleeps around is called a playboy. That is exactly the same as what you noted, but reversed.

How fucking dare you question my role as a mother! You said that I was a bad mother because I had men over when my child is asleep. How is that any different than having sex with my actual husband while my child is asleep? Doors are closed and locked in both cases. What I (or in this case, we) do behind closed doors has absolutely no bearing on my ability to be a mother to my child. If (and that is a BIG fucking if) my sex life impairs my ability to parent then will you next gay bash a pair of same sex individuals who have children? Are homosexuals bad parents simply because they have an alternative sexual lifestyle? You sir, are a product of society that stands behind the social norms that people say we should live by. Get over yourself and realize that you have your life and I have mine. Although I share my life in the way of my blog, it is not an invitation for you to get on here and bash me. There is a reason that I have a touch of anonymity. It is to protect my family and not to expose my kid to what we choose to do as adults. Now, my question to you is when you’re rummaging through the web for beat off material, like you were obviously doing when you found my blog, do you expose your children to that? Do you let them see you touch your dick and then explain why you do it? I know the answer is no because that would expose your kinks as an “adult”. So what’s the difference between you playing with your tiny penis and being in denial and my playing with another person and not exposing my child to it?

If you had actually read my blogs, you would have noted that I specifically mentioned that my family comes first before my lifestyle. There has been many, many times that I broke plans with an “illicit lover” because my child was not feeling well or wanted to cuddle with mommy. With all this being said, my blog post immediately after your comment explained that I have not be out dating in over a year.

You mentioned something to the effect of my lying to myself about my husband enjoying my sleeping around. Another factor that you were absolutely unaware of is that my husband completely introduced this lifestyle to me. I was oblivious to cuckoldry until my husband (the one who supposedly did not actually enjoy my sleeping around) asked me to start sleeping with other men… and this was BEFORE we were even married. He and I were in a cuckold relationship for 4 years before we were even married.

You asked me to explain this to you so that you could understand it… Does this explain to you just how condescending and ignorant you actually are? Come to think of it… What were YOU doing reading a cuckoldry blog if you are so against it?

A Plethora of Paramour

Since my last painful and embarrassing experience with B. Bull, I really have not wanted to see him (much less fuck him). I have been seeing B. Bull for a little over 2 years now. I have said more times than I can count that I am done with him, but he is reliable; he is respectful; he is familiar, and above all else… He has the biggest cock I have ever seen in real life. No matter how much I want to stop seeing him, I crave his cock like no other addiction I have ever had in my life.

Due to reasons I am not able to explain in this sort of forum, I have been unable to date this year (more specifically, in the year 2009). I have still been able to get laid but with a few more precautions, restrictions and time restraints than usual. Since I have not been able to date to meet new Bulls this year (I have one story about meeting a new Bull that I will share in another blog), I have fallen back time and time again on good ole B. Bull.

I needed to get laid this weekend. I needed an Earth-shattering, bed-rocking orgasm. I didn’t care who gave this to me; I mean I have my standards and I am not willing to lower those standards, but I didn’t care if it was B. Bull or some new Bull who gave it to me.

I text B. Bull and asked him to come fuck me. I felt a strange combination of emotions when he text back and said that he was in Vegas and couldn’t come fuck me. I was shocked because he didn’t mention leaving town. I was irritated because he was not available for my disposal. I was frustrated because I knew that if I didn’t have B. Bull to fuck me, then my other options were pretty slim.

I have mentioned before that I have an enormous amount of shoes. I am extremely particular about which shoes are paired with which outfit. The shade of whatever color that is on the shoes must precisely match or perfectly contrast any color in the rest of my outfit. The height of the heel and the impression it presents must also coordinate with the rest of my outfit. To top it all off, my entire outfit (shoes included) must match the atmosphere of wherever I am going that day. I am a very particular person in many aspects of my life not just my shoes. Imagine now how particular I am about my men…

The reason my Bull options are slim is because I am even more stringent on my men than I am on my shoes. I know exactly what I want from a man mentally, emotionally, and physically. Hubby laughs when I confide in him about my indecision concerning a new Bull. Hubby mentally tallies strikes against my prospective Bulls and waits for me to carefully select the perfect mate. I will not settle for a substandard man.

My date-less year is coming to a close next month. I am pretty excited to jump back out into the dating scene. So this brings me full circle to the title of this blog: ‘A Plethora of Paramour’.

I still refuse to lower my standards, but I need more fucking options! I plan to get out and fuck more often after next month. I plan to keep a Bull’s phone number even after he has irritated me and I have begun looking for “strange”. I plan to uphold my quality standards but also to increase my quantity standards as well.

I want it all: Professional, Wife, Cuckoldress

When Jinxy asked me to write this blog under this subject, I thought, “Pppsstthhbb! Easy peasy!” ‘I want it all: Professional, Wife, Cuckoldress’ this should be the easiest thing to write about since it’s my life, right? Wrong! Brainstorming this topic turned out to be quite the look in the mirror for me. How *do* I do this? How do I keep it together? How have I found the balance for all three roles to co-exist equally and effectively? It wasn’t easy~ at first; now it’s just second nature.

This may very well be the first time any of you have read anything written by me so let me give you a quick intro: I am 27 years old and I’m married to the love of my life. We have one child who is often too intelligent for his/her own good and we are both professionals in a very demanding line of work. So, you put all those elements together and I have a very active lifestyle between work, family, and my being a long-time Cuckoldress. Sometimes it takes a well thought out plan to keep all three of my roles from crashing into each other. Oddly enough though, being the Cuckoldress seems to be the easiest role I have!

This lifestyle is without a doubt is a tight rope walk at times, but with plenty of practice over the years, I have developed a routine, per say, that meshes each aspect of my life together without conflict. I have had a few new and blossoming Cuckold couples ask me “what is the key to having a successful marriage/ cuckold lifestyle and how do you hold it all together?” That is an excellent question and the answer comes down to three elements. Mutual understanding, open lines of communication and last, but certainly not least you must trust in each other. You’re both getting your rocks off together (or separately in this case), but if you’re missing one of these elements another area of your life will suffer, i.e. marriage, job or family. Balance is the key to a properly functioning cuckold relationship, but isn’t that the recipe for success in anything we do in life?

Balance (v): to arrange, adjust, or proportion the parts of symmetrically.

The definition of balance seems simple enough, but you have no idea how many people lose site of this when they have a dick in their hand (whether it is their own or someone else’s). I’m not saying that when things get hot and sweaty that you shouldn’t totally lose yourself. Hell, I would never get anything done in my life if I wasn’t able to pacify myself with an enormous cock occasionally and put the day to day responsibilities on hold for an hour or two (or three)! It’s after my roof-raising-multiple-orgasms and having my cuck clean up the mess that I snap back into job-, wife-, or mom-mode. This is the type of balance I am talking about.

Another important factor in a well balanced cuckold marriage is versatility. The transition, or transformation rather, between each role should be seamless. Each of my roles comes so naturally. I’m able to freely wander back and forth between them with ease. I can kiss a boo-boo from a bike –vs- driveway battle, walk inside to iron my husband’s shirt and then fix my lipstick and head out the door for my date with one of my Bulls. Seamless- normal- natural. If it is a jerky transition then it will be so much more difficult to maintain the necessary balance.

You must also consciously establish your values and remind yourself what’s really most important in your life? For me, my family: husband and child, are the most significant for me. My responsibilities to them come first before getting laid. I must ensure that my family’s needs are met before I can venture out for sex. My job as a wife and a mother is the glue that holds everything together in our family. Priority number two on my list is my career. Last on the priority chart is my insatiable cravings for cock. Overall, if my family’s needs are not in good sorts, then my cock craving will not be met. 1.) Family. 2.) Job. 3.) Cock. As simple as 1-2-3 (yes, I did just go there…).

Some characteristics more specific for a particular role may be helpful in one of the other two. For instance, I am a very domineering Cuckoldress. The established dominance in my marriage can easily be interpreted as being enterprising in my career. I am less likely to be passed over for a promotion or getting fucked over by a co-worker because of this characteristic. Now, my emphatic attitude just comes out naturally. To all those women out there that are curious about the cuckold lifestyle, let me share a very reassuring bit of advice: This lifestyle is a pure, unadulterated confidence boost! Your attitude toward yourself, your relationship and everyday life will change, but that’s a blog for another time… so let’s back on track.

Compassion (from the mother role) helps in being a Cuckoldress as well. The first time that my cuck was offered a cream pie, I think I literally saw his face turn green. I had compassion for him and I talked him through it. Now he cannot wait for his cream pies. Ardent compassion is the key to easing him into his duties in his role.

It should go without saying (I am saying it anyways) that time management is massively important as a functioning Cuckoldress. It doesn’t matter is you are Wife, Mother, Professional, and/or Cuckoldress; you are only allocated 24 hours in any day just like the rest of us. How you manage those 24 hours is vital in the efficient survival in this lifestyle. My typical day runs like this: Gym, work, lunch (sometimes an afternoon quickie if I have time), more work, more gym, my child’s after-school activity, dinner, chores, date with the “Bull of the moment”, then sleep. I barely have enough time in my day by just being a wife and mother. Factor in work and cuckoldry and it gets a little hectic. I keep everything penciled into my daily planner (little black book *wink, wink*) which is an essential item with my life. I know, I know, that seems so simple, but it is also entertaining when I find my cuck beating off while reading my scheduled events.

Every woman, at significantly different points in her life, wishes to be a princess, a wife, a mother, and/or a professional career woman. As usual, reality can sting like a bitch and the “princess” option drops off her “what I want to be when I grow up” list first. Sometimes women even give up the career in order to focus more on her family or vice versa. I am 27 years old and I still want to be a princess, but since I was not born into royalty I guess Cuckoldress is the closest I will ever come… And I am delightfully happy about that.

My name is Rayna Spade. I am 27 years old. I am a wife, a mother, a professional and a Cuckoldress… And I want it all.

Is there such a thing as a 'Compromising Cuckoldress'?

If you follow my Twitter, then you are already aware of the brief progression of an introduction with S. Bull. This is my thoughts on my actions, intentions, and reactions to this entire ordeal.

S. Bull began chatting with me via Yahoo IM. He was very frank and forthcoming in his stature, both in height and size and penis and intentions. He asked me if penis size was the first priority in finding a bull. I honestly thought about this for an exaggeratedly long moment before I answered. "No. It is not the most important factor in finding a bull... It is the second most important factor in finding a bull." I think that S. Bull appreciated my honesty just as much as I appreciated his.

The conversation ensued. Then S. Bull asked that I give him a "chance" to see if there is a "spark" between us beyond penis size. This struck me deeply in two different ways. First, I was curious. Maybe this guy has something to offer that I just haven't been able to find in other bulls. Second, I questioned how superficial I actually am. I decided to give it... him a go.

I told him to email me and I would respond when I could. Sure enough, the enthusiastic self-proclaimed bull emailed me almost immediately. Eh~ I like enthusiasm, but I didn't reply until the next morning.

S. Bull and I corresponded back and forth quite a bit. After the subject mounted from common interests to athletics and then on to cuckold humiliation, we decided to exchange face and full body pictures. I sent him a picture of me dolled up and then a picture of me on average (come on people, no matter how much of a fantasy you maintain~ not everyone will look like the internet porn site Cuckoldress 24/7). He expressed his gratuitous approval and ranted about how beautiful he thought I am. I wish I could have returned the compliments.

The more experienced I become in life and this lifestyle, the more I am aware of and can accept who I am and what I want. I have accepted that I have a type of man that I just simply become weak in the knees when I see. I become ravenous when I see a man fitting this type.

I love black men. I love a nice even milk chocolaty dark brown skin tone. I love tall men, six feet tall at the very least. I love big men with broad shoulders. I love bald men (I cannot figure this one out). I love tattoos. More specifically, I love tattoos on black men. The way that the ink contrasts that smooth chocolaty skin tone is just so beautiful. Last but most certainly not least, I love well hung, graciously endowed, thick, long black cock.

S. Bull sent me pictures of his face and another of his body. S. Bull turned out to be the exact~ EXACT opposite of every one of the afore mentioned physical characteristics. He is short (under six feet), skinny with narrow shoulders, pale skin (light skinned black man), he wears a large bushy afro, he has no tattoos, and he (admittedly) has an 'average' sized cock.

I don't do *average* anything, but I especially do not do *average* sized cock.

I tried. I actually put an effort into looking beyond superficial characteristics. I tried to see into someone for the beauty within... Blah, blah, blah, fucking blah!

I did learn something even deeper about myself through this...

A Cuckoldress~ a *true* Cuckoldress cannot and should not ever compromise what she wants.

Needless to say, I am still looking for my dream man.

My Dearest Cuckolded Husband

My hubby asked that I blog about how I feel for him. I am not sure what he was aiming to get out of me~ Come to think of it, I do. I do, in fact, know exactly what he was aiming to get out of me. I doubt that this will be it though...

When a girl is still young and untouched by the harsh reality of life and love, she often envisions how her "one and only true love" will be. Whether that fantasy engulfs a white horse or something more resembling Clark Gable she always envisions a man that will make her heart go (as once quoted by my Sunday School teacher years ago), "pitter-patter-poppy-cock".

My husband is nothing like Clark Gable, and he surely does not ride a white horse. To the eye, my husband is nothing that any little girl would daydream into her future about. My husband is a red-blooded, unemotional, hairy, farting, scratching, nose-picking, football-watching man through and through.

On the other hand, my husband is, without a doubt, my very best friend. He is the complete complimenting opposite of myself, and when he winks at me~ my heart, my stomach, and everything in between literally goes, "pitter-patter-poppy-cock".

If you were to do a Google search using the key words: "cuckold" and "characteristics" you would (after sifting through all the virus riddled porn sites) come up with a compilation of information depicting the average cuckold as submissive, pathetic, small-dicked, and wimpy. These very characteristics are 'supposedly' the reason why a cuckoldress is able to, or has the reason to cuckold her husband.

My hubby may be the stereotypical disgusting man, but he is nothing like the stereotypical cuckold. My hubby is actually the exact opposite of the average cuckold characteristics except for one thing... My hubby realizes that despite his larger-than-average cock, insatiable appetite for sex, and valiant effort to please me, he will never be (in total) what I need, want, and crave.

This is what makes my husband a *true* cuckold.

Being that my husband is my best friend and accepts the inevitable (that I simply cannot be monogamous) our marriage of cuckoldry is not forced even in the slightest. This allows for a more open and honest relationship. Because our relationship is honest and open my hubby can be completely secure in his position as my husband. He knows, without a doubt, that although I may succumb to any number of other men, I will always love him as my husband.

Because my husband is not only secure in his position as my husband but also his manhood, I am able to actively seek out new relationships not merely based on carnal lust or infatuation. I crave the fulfillment of having a second mate in my life; a second mate to fill any possible voids that my husband may leave.

I love my cuckolded husband very much and think very highly of him, but I simply cannot be satisfied by just him any longer. He knows this very well. I have become accustomed to the taboo and erotic thought of being with another man other than my husband. I simply cannot be with only him and only him.

This makes me a *true* Cuckoldress.

No matter how much I love him... No matter how much I admire him... A little piece of me will always see him as pathetic. A little piece of me will always desire more than him. A little piece of me will always be looking for a better man than him.

Isn't that the American Dream? Always looking for something better...

Absolute Power or Sick Sadism?

Just out of the blue yesterday afternoon I decided to set up plans with B. Bull for later that evening. I figured: what a perfect way to close out a long weekend than with a good fucking... I wish it had ended that way.

I solidified all my plans with B. Bull and then told the hubby. My cuckold hubby masturbated all day thinking about it. I promised hubby that I would set up the webcam so that he could watch. I even promised both B. Bull and hubby that I would go all out and dress up. This was building up to be quite the event.

I love to dress up for a scheduled fuck. I have an entire section of my closet allocated to slutty clothes. Hubby has also built a shoe shrine in my closet. I have an ungodly amount of shoes: low and conservative 2 inch heels; cute and flirty 3 inch heels; sassy and sophisticated 4 inch heels; sexy and flaunting 5 inch heels; I even have a few pair of 6 inch heels and two pair of 8 inch heels. I begin to feel a little guilty when I think of the money that has gone into these shoes and the dire need in Haiti... I just don't think that little Haitian girls should be walking around the rubble in stripper heels.

After several wardrobe changes, I settled on a stretchy and shiny metallic purple tube dress, thigh high rough-top fishnet stockings and a pair of black patent leather with clear platform 6 inch heels. My deep red lipstick and tattoos seemed to compliment the dark purple wonderfully.

I modeled for hubby on webcam while he masturbated ferociously. I posed for his every whim while he snapped candid shots. I even masturbated for hubby while waiting for B. Bull.

B. Bull arrived and quickly stripped naked while fucking me with his eyes. He laid down for me to gobble down his massive cock like usual, only this time I gave him my Flip digital video camera to capture the moment. He loved recording me sucking his cock.

Just as things usually do, the moment progressed and I mounted his huge black cock. I am always in my own perverted version of heaven when I slide down the length of his shaft. Not all men are created equal.

B. Bull grew more and more enthusiastic and we maneuvered to have him entering me from behind. This position can be both satisfying and painful. From this position I can feel every single extended inch of his manhood. Sometimes, though, I have to remind him how easily he can hurt me in this position. I think he knows though.

B. Bull began thrusting and slamming himself into me. I screamed with each thrust. The screams began with ecstasy and slowly progressed to pain. I would flatten my body out to try to lessen the internal impact. In response, B. Bull would just manually lift my hips back into position and thrust harder. That's when the blood came...

I was mortally embarrassed as he cleaned himself and dressed then left.

The more and more I think about it the more and more pissed off I become. I am sure he wasn't trying to intentionally hurt me, but he damn well knew he was hurting me. Was this him exercising his absolute "Bull Power" or was he being sadistic?