This is the true story of how my husband and I first got into the cuckold lifestyle, though the names and places have been changed.
When my husband and I met in college we were both virgins. Crazy, right? It was freshman year and neither of us had experimented much. I’d had a couple boyfriends in high school but the farthest I got with any of them was being fingered on my porch after my parents went to sleep. I enjoyed orgasms and spent a lot of time taking long showers, but I just never found the right guy that made me want to rip my clothes off and spread my legs.
And even in college, it took me 2 years of dating my husband before we started having sex. I just wanted to take things slow. We fooled around in my dorm room and in his car, slowly working our way up past kissing and touching to eventually full oral. I found out quickly I got bored sucking his dick but I did enjoy getting eaten out quite a bit, so he spent a lot more time working to make me happy. By the time we started having sex, there was this submissive nature about our sexual relationship because of that. He wanted to make me happy. He didn’t expect me to get on my knees and pleasure him. He didn’t hold me down or pull my hair and expect me to just take him when he was thrusting. He always asked if I liked it, always was sure to try and do what I wanted and needed.
Now don’t get me wrong—the sex wasn’t bad. I didn’t know any better and I was still learning what I liked. It was nice having a partner that wanted to please me because if something didn’t work, he didn’t keep trying it. But what did work was me being more dominant with him. I started realizing I liked being the directive one that dictated how sex was going to happen. I liked holding his head between my legs, pressing down til he had trouble breathing. I liked being on top, riding him as if I was using his cock and he was there simply as a means to make me happy. I liked making him lie on his back so I could spread my ass out and ******* him to run his tongue between my legs. And the best part? I could tell he liked it, too.
It wasn’t too long before we had that inevitable discussion many couples have about threesomes. Of course it started off as an FMF idea: me, him, and another girl. In college I’d drunkenly kissed a few girls, but never had really sexually done anything further (though I’d been curious). I decided I liked the idea and kept my eye out and put out some craigslist ads (back when the personals section was still a thing), but nothing really came of it. It was attracted to the idea, but finding the right girl was a total pain. And that’s really what first led to our first experience. Had I been able to easily find a girl to join us, I might have never known.
It had been 2 years since we first discussed the idea of a threesome and nothing had yet come of it. I hadn’t given it much more thought, assuming it wasn’t going to happen, but as we were driving down to Santa Fe to see my parents my husband brought it up again.
“It would be fun to experiment on vacation,” he said. “Maybe we could try to put an ad up...see what happens?”
I really wasn’t interested in trying and failing again. Finding a girl was impossible. There were 100 couples to every 1 unicorn and it was exhausting sending out 20 emails in a weekend just to hear nothing back.
“Well, what if we tried a threesome with a guy?” he asked.
It seems strange now, but I honestly hadn’t thought of that as a possibility at all. “Would you be okay with that?” I asked. “Another guy with me?”
“Yeah, I think so,” he said. “I mean if you’re willing to let me be with another woman, I should feel the same way, right?”
It made sense in a strange way. I tried to wrap my mind around it as we sped down the highway. Was I okay with it? Did I want to have sex with another man?
“It’ll be way easier to find a guy,” my husband continued. “There are always tons of guys looking for couples.”
“Because guys will fuck anything,” I added. My husband shrugged and smirked. “Let me think about it,” I said.
By the time we reached my parents house I’d had hours to consider the idea, the positions, the thought of two sets of hands and lips all over me. It was exciting and new and I was convinced we should give it a try. We put our bags up in the guest room and before my husband could clumsily bring it up again I said “okay, let’s do it. Tomorrow night.”
My husband lit up with a smile and I began to suspect he’d been interested in this for quite a while. It certainly hadn’t just popped into his head along the interstate. Then he asked “what should we put in the ad?”
I hadn’t really considered it. What were we looking for? We went shopping at an outlet mall that evening and my husband and I talked through everything we were interested in.
“Are you okay taking him while giving oral to me? And vice verse?” he asked.
“Sure. That’s fine,” I told him.
“What about DP? And anal?”
I thought about it. “Sure, I’d be okay with that, too. He just has to wear a condom.”
My husband got oddly specific after the generic talk about positions and limits. “What about me licking your clit while he’s having sex with you?”
“Yeah, that would be fine,” I said. “As long as you can get down there comfortably.”
“Would you mind if we took turns and I watched a little bit?” he asked.
The comment caught me off guard, but I remembered how our sexual relationship had developed, his need to please me, his enjoyment when I was directive and in charge. “Sure, I don’t mind that at all,” I said.
By the time we’d finished laying out the boundaries, my husband had a good layout for the ad. We wrote it up, made sure to ask for someone that was willing to meet at a hotel or could host, was willing to play safe, and then added some details about what we were looking for sexually. We added a non-nude body pic of me just to get some more traffic. The next morning, we had dozens of replies.
“Tell you what,” I said after we’d perused a few. “You find 3 that you think would be a good fit and I’ll make the final call.”
My husband spent the rest of the day reading and searching for the right guy, occasionally forwarding an email to me to gauge my interest. There were plenty of misses, but when he finally picked his final three I was surprised at how perfect they seemed. This was a totally different experience from trying to make an FMF happen.
The first guy looked was a clean cut professional type, in okay shape, early 30s. He didn’t list his cock size or anything graphic but he seemed like a nice guy, spent a lot of time talking about his job and his ability to be discreet. Quintessential suburbs bachelor. He seemed fine.
The second guy was a jock/gym rat. He made it a point to say he was 6.5” and girthy, talked about how great his stamina was, mentioned his experience he’d had with other couples. He seemed fine, too.
The third guy caught me off guard. We had talked about so many other things but I’d just assumed it would be a white guy. But the third guy was black. He had a nice button down and slacks on in his photo. He didn’t discuss his job, or his gym habits, but he didn’t need to—I could tell he was in good shape and I could tell he was successful. Instead, his response talked about me, about my husband, about us enjoying the experience and being comfortable, about finding what we were looking for in this experiment. It was a breath of fresh air.
“I like number 3,” I said, handing my husband’s phone back. “I think you should message him.”
My husband perked up. Looking back, I wonder if he purposefully picked two white guys I knew would be “eh” while leaving the one he hoped would get chosen for last. I’ve never asked.
“Yeah?” he said. “You think he’s the right one?”
“I think so,” I said with a wink. “I’ll let you message him and set it up since you’re the guy.” I later changed my tune on this but it being our first time, I decided to let him make the arrangements.
That evening, we planned to meet Mike (not his real name, just in case) at a restaurant near downtown for some drinks. We arrived early and got a table on the patio, each ordered a *******, and waited, drinking in the excitement and anticipation of what was coming. I spotted Mike coming toward the restaurant and bit my lip. He was even sexier in person. He was tall, probably 6”3’, nearly half a foot taller than my husband, and had broad shoulders framed in a shirt that was obviously tailored for him. He saw me staring and smiled, recognizing me from the photo my husband sent him, and gave me a friendly wave.
When he walked up to the table I wasn’t sure what to do so I gave him a hug and my husband shook his hand. It seems weird looking back, like “hi shake my hand before you take my wife back and have your way with her” but I’m not really sure what else we could’ve done.
We sat down, Mike ordered a *******, and then we started with basic chit chat. The traffic in the area, how unusually hot it was this late in the year, the nearby restaurants and clubs in the area we were in. After two drinks, Mike finally broke out of the “chit chat” routine and bluntly asked: “So tell me more about what you’re looking for.”
He said “you,” like it could be me and my husband, but he was staring directly at me as he said it and ran his fingers over the top of my hand as he did. My husband restated some of the things we discussed in the ad but Mike only occasionally glanced over. He was focused on me. I got the distinct feeling that would be the case for the rest of the night.
Stay tuned for part 2
When my husband and I met in college we were both virgins. Crazy, right? It was freshman year and neither of us had experimented much. I’d had a couple boyfriends in high school but the farthest I got with any of them was being fingered on my porch after my parents went to sleep. I enjoyed orgasms and spent a lot of time taking long showers, but I just never found the right guy that made me want to rip my clothes off and spread my legs.
And even in college, it took me 2 years of dating my husband before we started having sex. I just wanted to take things slow. We fooled around in my dorm room and in his car, slowly working our way up past kissing and touching to eventually full oral. I found out quickly I got bored sucking his dick but I did enjoy getting eaten out quite a bit, so he spent a lot more time working to make me happy. By the time we started having sex, there was this submissive nature about our sexual relationship because of that. He wanted to make me happy. He didn’t expect me to get on my knees and pleasure him. He didn’t hold me down or pull my hair and expect me to just take him when he was thrusting. He always asked if I liked it, always was sure to try and do what I wanted and needed.
Now don’t get me wrong—the sex wasn’t bad. I didn’t know any better and I was still learning what I liked. It was nice having a partner that wanted to please me because if something didn’t work, he didn’t keep trying it. But what did work was me being more dominant with him. I started realizing I liked being the directive one that dictated how sex was going to happen. I liked holding his head between my legs, pressing down til he had trouble breathing. I liked being on top, riding him as if I was using his cock and he was there simply as a means to make me happy. I liked making him lie on his back so I could spread my ass out and ******* him to run his tongue between my legs. And the best part? I could tell he liked it, too.
It wasn’t too long before we had that inevitable discussion many couples have about threesomes. Of course it started off as an FMF idea: me, him, and another girl. In college I’d drunkenly kissed a few girls, but never had really sexually done anything further (though I’d been curious). I decided I liked the idea and kept my eye out and put out some craigslist ads (back when the personals section was still a thing), but nothing really came of it. It was attracted to the idea, but finding the right girl was a total pain. And that’s really what first led to our first experience. Had I been able to easily find a girl to join us, I might have never known.
It had been 2 years since we first discussed the idea of a threesome and nothing had yet come of it. I hadn’t given it much more thought, assuming it wasn’t going to happen, but as we were driving down to Santa Fe to see my parents my husband brought it up again.
“It would be fun to experiment on vacation,” he said. “Maybe we could try to put an ad up...see what happens?”
I really wasn’t interested in trying and failing again. Finding a girl was impossible. There were 100 couples to every 1 unicorn and it was exhausting sending out 20 emails in a weekend just to hear nothing back.
“Well, what if we tried a threesome with a guy?” he asked.
It seems strange now, but I honestly hadn’t thought of that as a possibility at all. “Would you be okay with that?” I asked. “Another guy with me?”
“Yeah, I think so,” he said. “I mean if you’re willing to let me be with another woman, I should feel the same way, right?”
It made sense in a strange way. I tried to wrap my mind around it as we sped down the highway. Was I okay with it? Did I want to have sex with another man?
“It’ll be way easier to find a guy,” my husband continued. “There are always tons of guys looking for couples.”
“Because guys will fuck anything,” I added. My husband shrugged and smirked. “Let me think about it,” I said.
By the time we reached my parents house I’d had hours to consider the idea, the positions, the thought of two sets of hands and lips all over me. It was exciting and new and I was convinced we should give it a try. We put our bags up in the guest room and before my husband could clumsily bring it up again I said “okay, let’s do it. Tomorrow night.”
My husband lit up with a smile and I began to suspect he’d been interested in this for quite a while. It certainly hadn’t just popped into his head along the interstate. Then he asked “what should we put in the ad?”
I hadn’t really considered it. What were we looking for? We went shopping at an outlet mall that evening and my husband and I talked through everything we were interested in.
“Are you okay taking him while giving oral to me? And vice verse?” he asked.
“Sure. That’s fine,” I told him.
“What about DP? And anal?”
I thought about it. “Sure, I’d be okay with that, too. He just has to wear a condom.”
My husband got oddly specific after the generic talk about positions and limits. “What about me licking your clit while he’s having sex with you?”
“Yeah, that would be fine,” I said. “As long as you can get down there comfortably.”
“Would you mind if we took turns and I watched a little bit?” he asked.
The comment caught me off guard, but I remembered how our sexual relationship had developed, his need to please me, his enjoyment when I was directive and in charge. “Sure, I don’t mind that at all,” I said.
By the time we’d finished laying out the boundaries, my husband had a good layout for the ad. We wrote it up, made sure to ask for someone that was willing to meet at a hotel or could host, was willing to play safe, and then added some details about what we were looking for sexually. We added a non-nude body pic of me just to get some more traffic. The next morning, we had dozens of replies.
“Tell you what,” I said after we’d perused a few. “You find 3 that you think would be a good fit and I’ll make the final call.”
My husband spent the rest of the day reading and searching for the right guy, occasionally forwarding an email to me to gauge my interest. There were plenty of misses, but when he finally picked his final three I was surprised at how perfect they seemed. This was a totally different experience from trying to make an FMF happen.
The first guy looked was a clean cut professional type, in okay shape, early 30s. He didn’t list his cock size or anything graphic but he seemed like a nice guy, spent a lot of time talking about his job and his ability to be discreet. Quintessential suburbs bachelor. He seemed fine.
The second guy was a jock/gym rat. He made it a point to say he was 6.5” and girthy, talked about how great his stamina was, mentioned his experience he’d had with other couples. He seemed fine, too.
The third guy caught me off guard. We had talked about so many other things but I’d just assumed it would be a white guy. But the third guy was black. He had a nice button down and slacks on in his photo. He didn’t discuss his job, or his gym habits, but he didn’t need to—I could tell he was in good shape and I could tell he was successful. Instead, his response talked about me, about my husband, about us enjoying the experience and being comfortable, about finding what we were looking for in this experiment. It was a breath of fresh air.
“I like number 3,” I said, handing my husband’s phone back. “I think you should message him.”
My husband perked up. Looking back, I wonder if he purposefully picked two white guys I knew would be “eh” while leaving the one he hoped would get chosen for last. I’ve never asked.
“Yeah?” he said. “You think he’s the right one?”
“I think so,” I said with a wink. “I’ll let you message him and set it up since you’re the guy.” I later changed my tune on this but it being our first time, I decided to let him make the arrangements.
That evening, we planned to meet Mike (not his real name, just in case) at a restaurant near downtown for some drinks. We arrived early and got a table on the patio, each ordered a *******, and waited, drinking in the excitement and anticipation of what was coming. I spotted Mike coming toward the restaurant and bit my lip. He was even sexier in person. He was tall, probably 6”3’, nearly half a foot taller than my husband, and had broad shoulders framed in a shirt that was obviously tailored for him. He saw me staring and smiled, recognizing me from the photo my husband sent him, and gave me a friendly wave.
When he walked up to the table I wasn’t sure what to do so I gave him a hug and my husband shook his hand. It seems weird looking back, like “hi shake my hand before you take my wife back and have your way with her” but I’m not really sure what else we could’ve done.
We sat down, Mike ordered a *******, and then we started with basic chit chat. The traffic in the area, how unusually hot it was this late in the year, the nearby restaurants and clubs in the area we were in. After two drinks, Mike finally broke out of the “chit chat” routine and bluntly asked: “So tell me more about what you’re looking for.”
He said “you,” like it could be me and my husband, but he was staring directly at me as he said it and ran his fingers over the top of my hand as he did. My husband restated some of the things we discussed in the ad but Mike only occasionally glanced over. He was focused on me. I got the distinct feeling that would be the case for the rest of the night.
Stay tuned for part 2
Last edited:
