Flexing the Dom muscles a bit

This past weekend was a lot of fun.  I had suggested to my wife that perhaps she might enjoy being “bossy” this weekend, as she has mentioned she would enjoy.  She thought it was a good idea and agreed to give it a try.  Well, for one reason or another it didn’t seem to happen on Friday night and I figured, well, she’s still trying to figure it out and I’m not going to force it on her.  When she wants to she will.  In the mean time I’m happy either way.

Then, Saturday afternoon she caught me off guard.  She issued a few orders to the kids and as they scampered away she turned her attention to me.  She told me she was off to take a shower and while she did I was to clean up the kitchen from lunch, unload the dishwasher and reload it with the dirty dishes, make sure everything was clean, the list went on for a bit.  She finished by telling me to retrieve her jeans from the dryer when they were done and have them waiting for her on the bed by the time she finished her shower.

Oh, I was in heaven.  The orders just flowed from her so naturally.  She didn’t seem self conscious about it or anything!

I pulled all the still wet clothes from the dryer and grabbed her two pairs of jeans that were in there, brought them to her and asked which pair of jeans she would like to wear.  She told me and I returned that pair to the dryer by itself to dry more quickly.

I completed the rest of my jobs and went to check email while my wife finished her shower and her jeans dried.  Unfortunately she was done before her jeans.  She called out for me asking for her jeans, I ran to the still running dryer and pulled them out.  They were done, but the auto-sensor hadn’t stopped the dryer and alerted me.  Damn that dryer!  I delivered her jeans and we went about our day.

That night I was allowed to pamper her a little more than usual as she chose to relax on the couch and issue me commands occasionally.  When she did get up it was to let me know she was leaving the room for a moment, and when she returned she expected to have her drink refilled.

Oh, heaven!

She decided to retire to the bedroom earlier than usual that night, but not before giving me another order, to be waiting in bed for her.  I didn’t need to be told twice.

She continued to issue instructions for the next hour or so as she used me for her pleasure.  She seemed to be able to sense when I was reaching my limits without my having to tell her, and she would slow me down or have me go down on her.  Finally, she seemed to be sated as she pushed my head from between her legs and pulled the covers over herself, leaving me uncovered next to her.  Without thinking I knelt and began to masturbate.  She watched me for a few moments before pulling the covers aside and telling me to enter her again.  Within seconds I was frantic and telling her I was at the edge.  She told me to cum and I did and I was so happy.

After going 25 days, then 17 days she has allowed me to cum two consecutive Saturdays.  As much as I enjoy the denial, being allowed to orgasm has been wonderful, and made things a bit more difficult.  I mentioned this to my wife and she pointed out that being reminded of how good it feels more often makes it more difficult knowing that it could be a long time before the next one.  Oh, the beauty of the mind games.  She is getting so good at it.

Which brings me to Sunday night.  She was tired and not interested in sex, so she turned in a bit early.  As I tucked her in she asked me to go get her cell phone for her.  I did and she told me it was because she was using it as an alarm.  I knew that and started to tell her so, but she continued, “it’s not like I’m going to call my boyfriend now”.

Now, the boyfriend/girlfriend joke has been in our repertoire for a long time, as well as jokes about strippers.  For example, she would call me when she’s out to let me know she’s on her way home.  I would reply, “thanks for the heads up.  I’ll get rid of the strippers”.  Same goes for boyfriend/girlfriend.  But, I guess I’ve been a bit conscious of it because of reading about Helpmate Hubby’s recent cuckolding. 

I’ve always been a lucid dreamer for the most part, that is, aware that I’m dreaming while dreaming.  There have been some times where I haven’t been, though, and maybe that makes those regular dreams more real to me than it would to a non-lucid dreamer.  I don’t know.  Either way, I have had several dreams over the years where I’m not exactly cuckolded, but my wife is lured away by another man, while in my presence, and despite women trying to lure me away as well, I just want to try to retrieve the attention of my wife.  After everyone of those dreams I have awakened feeling horrible.  It was as if my wife had actually been unfaithful to me.

Now, in each of these dreams there is no actual man, just the idea of some amazing lover who has let it be known that he would allow my wife to be pleasured by him.  There isn’t anyone out there that I’m actually afraid of losing my wife to.  We’ve always been fairly secure with each other that way.  We both know that at the end of the day, we will be together.  So, I’m not sure where this anxiety dream comes from.

Well, that’s not entirely true.

Fairly early on in our relationship, after dating for about a year and a half, my wife moved to another city to take an internship.  So, we began a long distance relationship.  Before she left I told her that I didn’t expect her to remain faithful the entire time we were apart.  I just didn’t want to know about it.  We all get lonely and sometimes just need the love of someone for a night.  I’m sure part of the reason I told her this was to relieve myself of any guilt I might have if I was to stray, but part was also because I really loved her and didn’t want her to go without sex.

Well, after a couple of months my nightly calls weren’t answered, or were answered by her roommate who would tell me she was out.  Occasionally she would answer if I called early and we would talk and things seemed good.  Then she’d tell me she had to go because her friend had arrived and they were going out.  Then instead of just being “friend” she started telling me about a specific guy friend.  Then, once again she just never seemed to be around when I called.  After a while I guess her roommate started to feel bad for me, and perhaps was concerned for her, and told me that she had been seeing somebody regularly and that they were out together, and that the reason she hadn’t been returning my calls is that she hadn’t been home in a while.  This tore me up, but, and I hate to admit this, it also excited me a bit. 

The next time we talked I gently confronted her with this information and she confirmed that she had been seeing somebody.  At this point the sickness in my stomach was again replaced by an odd excitement and I found myself with an erection asking her about his abilities as a lover.  She reluctantly told me.  She said he was good, but not better than me.   Just different.  She wouldn’t tell me his size, which I found odd because I already knew about her past with a guy who had a 10 inches.  She wasn’t reluctant to admit that he was better orally than I was, which hurt because I loved it so much.

Anyway, shortly after that I decided that I couldn’t live without her anymore and told her that I was going to come to the city she was in to spend a few months with her.  She seemed very excited by this and agreed to stop seeing the other guy.  So, I began planning my move, which wasn’t just to see her but to straighten out my life in the process.  It bought my tickets and let her know the date of my arrival, which was about 8 weeks away.

We kept in touch and I started mailing her checks to help with the rent, etc.

When I got there we were both so happy.  Everything seemed great.  I got along well with all her friends right off the bat, too!  I was in heaven.  She, apparently, was in hell.  Her conscience was in turmoil.  So, about a week into my moving in with her, in a new city where the only people I knew were her friends, and knowing that I had burned some bridges in the process of my move, and that I was on the outs with my family, she laid it on me.

She had been sleeping with the guy up until the day I got there.  The spot on the bed I was sleeping was occupied by him until the morning I arrived.  The welcome sex I had received was sloppy seconds to the goodbye sex he had received.

I was devastated.  There was no excitement in that knowledge.  I was heartbroken and angry and I had nowhere to turn.  To top it off it was a guy in her close group of friends that I had met and been hanging out with every night since I had arrived.  Everybody knew I had been cuckolded by this guy who was a good deal bigger than I was, and I’m not a small guy.  I clearly was more more intelligent and funnier, and probably more athletic overall, but he was the bad boy, the tough guy.

Oddly, I wasn’t really mad at him, and got along with him fairly well.  Hell, if nothing else the guy had excellent taste in women.  If I were in his position, I would have done the same thing.  Hell, I’d be insulted if a guy had declined to have sex with my girlfriend without my knowing it.

It was her.  She had cheated on me, not him.  And she didn’t tell me because she thought I should know, as she proclaimed.  She told me because she couldn’t bear the guilt.  She told me because she wanted to feel better, not to make me feel better.  I was angry and hurt.

We, of course, got over it after a few more rough patches.  I had to tell her how upset it made me when she would stop to see him occasionally, as they were still friends and I think he missed her company.  It was then that she agreed to never see him unless I was there.  I didn’t ask her to do that.  I just pointed out that I felt abandoned when she did it.  She regrets ever dating somebody who so clearly was not deserving of her attention.  Her friends were relieved that I showed up and saved the day because they knew he was a no-good loser and saw that I was a keeper.

Before too long I was over it.  We didn’t try to avoid the topic.  We didn’t discuss it much, but once I was over it I never threw it back in her face.  At the end of the day, I was the one she had chosen.  I win.

But, the weird thing is, I still occasionally had cuckold fantasies.  I know, it’s not unusual.  I also would fantasize about my wife and the other guy.  That’s probably not too unusual either.  I even wrote a short erotic story once, for my wife, where a new bride cuckolds her husband on their honeymoon.  She loved the story and when it was done asked if I was the cuckold husband.  I told her that I was both.  I was the seducer and the cuckold.  I was excited and aroused by both sides of the fantasy.

But those dreams.  Just thinking about them makes me sick to my stomach.  That’s how I know I could never stand to be cuckolded.  Reading Helpmate Hubby’s experience does the same thing.  For some reason, reading an erotic story about cuckolding is arousing, but reading someone else’s  true experience makes me anxious and ill.

Just writing this is making me a bit of a wreck.  Not telling the story of the past, but the idea that my wife would ever want to seek the services of another man.  I can’t bear the thought.

So, back to the innocent boyfriend comment.  There seemed to be something else there.  There seemed to be a tone in her voice, a playful tone, but not in the way there has been other times we use it.  It was more of a teasing tone, a tone of her power.  It was erotic, but made me nervous.  I leaned over to kiss her goodnight and whispered in her ear, “that’s not nice”.

She chuckled as I walked off.