Captainstrangecollector - Strange Collections

Cuckold? Maybe...

So… Sorry for the delay since my last post. Last week was Spring Break, and I took full advantage of my last college spring break and went somewhere nice and warm and tropical. I spend the better part of a week laying on a beach and drinking mojitos. I know- rough huh? Anyway, I am back now and feeling refreshed and ready to crush this whole college thing… Hopefully.

So, back to the topic of this blog - one of you fine followers asked me a while back if my boyfriend is a cuckold.

The answer to that is… I didn’t really know. I honestly had no idea about the whole cuckolding fetish before recently when I was asked and started looking into it a bit more. I always just assumed it was me cheating… I never really thought that there could be a fetish associated with it.

After my bf caught me cheating and we had that “talk” I detailed for you guys earlier, we have come back to this whole cheating topic more and more frequently in conversations together. To the point where, while we were on Spring Break, I finally just asked him if he was a cuckold.

It was a very interesting conversation, and to be honest, more than a little hot for me. I would be lying if I said it didn’t turn me on a little to watch him sorta squirm around a bit at my question, and dance around the answer. I am going to give you his thoughts on it, and mine too….

Here is his basic take:

He doesn’t like the term “cuckold”. He thinks it makes him seem weak. He likes the idea of his “prim and proper high school sweetheart” having a dark side. He likes the idea that I can be promiscuous, and he seemed to really like the idea of his girlfriend being a bit of a slut. He isn’t thrilled that I fucked Brandon (multiple times) but he likes the fact that I was daring enough to do it. He is open to the idea of “sharing” me, but he wants to know what’s going on at all times.

Here is my take:

By definition, he is a cuckold. It doesn’t really matter if he likes the term or not, he is one. It isn’t really a choice anymore if he wants to be or not. It’s a yes or no answer, and the fact is that the answer is yes. Maybe it does make him feel weak, but that actually is his choice. The way I see it, he can do one of three things about it… 1- break up with me and leave. 2- stop letting it make him feel weak and start taking pride in it. Or 3 - learn to accept and enjoy that weakness. Either of the last two options is fine with me at this point, considering that I had pretty much resigned myself to the first one when he caught me, but he didn’t. If he likes the idea of me being a little slutty, then I am thinking that he will eventually come to terms with both the term itself and the weakness thing. Again, it turns me on a bit that he has some kind of sense of pride that I was so daring as to be with Brandon. To be honest… I kind of like the fact that he wasn’t thrilled that it was Brandon. Maybe it is because it makes me feel somewhat justified that I hid it from him… Maybe just because it was really hot, and I wouldn’t mind making that a “thing” with the two (3?) of us. As far as his point about wanting to know what was going on at all times in the future, he has a pretty solid point there. I’m not going to fight that point. If he is willing to share me, the least I can do as a “prim and proper” girlfriend is to let him know who he is sharing me with.

We still have some things to work out though… How I/we pick guys? How frequently we want this to happen? What is his role in all this? Those are questions that I am actually working through right now, so I don’t have answers for you guys yet. As soon as we come to an agreement on stuff like this, I will let you know.

So, that’s how we stand right now. We have a bit of an agreement here, but really I’m not sure what will happen next. If anybody has any suggestions, I would love to hear them!

It’s going to be a fun spring everybody! :-)

…entropy…{blushing}…<3 emmie @ le cocu quotidien.

In ‘Giving Her Permission to Date,’ your girlfriend comes home from work, puts on something sexy, and gives you a lap dance as she announces that someone at worked asked her out. Oh, and she also lets you know that she accepted his invitation and will be going on a date with another man.

You resist at first, of course. What man would be okay with his girlfriend dating someone else. She seduces you, though. She teases you. She turns you on. She fills your head with surprisingly arousing thoughts of another man kissing her, touching her, fingering her pussy, and more.

She convinces you that it’s actually insanely hot to imagine her going on a date with another guy, and you give her permission. You tell her it’s okay to date someone else. You tell it’s okay to get naughty with him on that date, too, and you end up finding the whole thing thrilling. Lucky boy.

Read ‘Giving Her Permission to Date’ on my Patreon page along with nearly 1,000 other cuckold stories, all of which are guaranteed to thrill you.

It was cold in the bedroom as she slipped out of her scrubs.  The show was about an hour's drive into the city and she only had a little while to get ready.

A final decision: the black, cheeky panties her husband adored.  They were sensible, while the rest of her outfit—a plunging neckline, new stockings, the first night out in a long-coveted pair of shoes—might give one idea, she would know that she had chosen against the most daring options in her drawer.  Her husband grew quiet as he saw her dress, but this should have reassured him.

She was thrilled that Clay had asked her to join him at opening night.  Her husband enjoyed this sort of thing, but could hardly be expected to make the herculean effort to find such exclusive tickets, so she had resigned herself to catching it later, maybe on a family vacation for an off-Broadway run.  Then Clay called, remembering something she had mentioned at the Christmas party, and she jumped at the chance.

Her husband took the news in stride—happy that she was happy—even offering to take her shopping for something special for the occasion.  When she settled on the shoes, she kissed him on the cheek and slipped the blue credit card from his wallet.

—

Clay arrived, and, as she finished getting ready, her husband made him a bourbon and soda.  It was the first time the two men had met outside of her office's functions, and her husband had thoughtfully asked her what Clay liked to drink so that he could offer a small token.  They stood as she entered the room, clearly taken with her.  

Clay offered his arm to her as they said goodnight to her husband.  Clay watched as she blew her husband a kiss.

—

She always got nervous at black tie events, and sure enough she nearly fell on the first stair.  She caught Clay's hand just in time to avoid embarrassment; if she had been wearing her rings, she would have cut his palm.  He smiled and, to set her at ease, kept her hand the rest of the way up the stairs to the box and leading her to their seats.

The view was breathtaking, and she took a moment to simply appreciate the person who was showing her such kindness.  He wore his finely tailored suit the way another man might a t-shirt and jeans; it was clear that he was, somehow, most comfortable in settings like these.  She thought how lucky a girl would be to be shown the town by someone like him.  He could have asked anyone to be where she was.

As the first song began, she slipped her hands around his arm and beamed a smile of gratitude toward him.  For some reason, it felt more natural to leave her arm hooked in his for the duration, squeezing more tightly as the music swelled and released.

When he returned with drinks after the intermission, he whispered to her about their neighbors in the row ahead, holding her knee as he leaned over.  She laughed and buried her grin into his shoulder as the neighbors glanced back in their direction.  

"Excuse my friend, here," Clay laughed, "she's just had her first taste of bourbon."  She giggled and gave him a playful shove before laying her head back against his shoulder as the lights drew down.

—

"The show was amazing, but now I have a splitting headache," she texted her husband as Clay walked her to the car.  Her husband responded quickly, asking if she needed him to come pick her up.

"Don't worry about it.  I don't think I have the drive back in me tonight.  Clay is going to drop me off at a hotel around the corner, and I can take the train in the morning.  See you tomorrow, love."

While Clay drove, she mapped out her next morning.  She had an extra set of scrubs and underwear at the office, along with a cosmetic bag.  She could text Michelle to bring another pair of shoes.

She slipped out of her dress as she entered the bedroom.  She walked to the bed, and, bending at the waist, she realized how cold it was in Clay's apartment.