The Scarlet C Part II: Accepting Your Place As Cuckold
Your wife is getting fucked by somebody else. You know it, your friends know it, everyone knows that you’re a huge cuckolded bitch whose wife has eyes for somebody bigger and better.
The kicker? It’s not all bad. Would it be uncouth to say you actually… enjoy this evolved version of your wife? She comes home from her dick appointments beaming for days, you’ve never seen her so happy before. Things that used to irritate her she doesn’t scold you for anymore. You once accidentally forgot to set her washed lingerie out to dry—the limited edition, nauseatingly expensive sets that she reserves for men other than you—and she didn’t even banish you to the closet like she used to do when she was annoyed with you. She’s so relaxed, so generous now—she lovingly gave you a few scraps of her sushi, leftovers from a date she went on with HIM—who would you be to argue with her about halting whatever it is she’s doing with someone who makes her feel so good?
Most of the time, during the day at least, you have no trouble shaking the thought of this man’s cock in your wife. Sure, you’ve recognized the benefits, but if you really, really think about it, you feel yourself instinctively rise in your envy for him. The later it gets, the harder it is to stop thinking about him, but you’ll never admit this to anybody ever, especially not your wife, and definitely not your friends who already think you’re pathetic for giving into him. But how could you help it? You’d be a fool to forget that right after you left the party—THE party—with your wife, she received a dick pic from that guy, so generously waved in your face during the car ride home with no context other than the devilish laugh to escape her throat. The pic was nice, great angle, optimum lighting, but having that photo shoved in your face was more epiphanic than anything else, because it made you realize you don’t actually have a dick. You thought you did, but after seeing how big and thick this guy is, you understood exactly why your wife needed the upgrade. It was this understanding that made you want to drive the car off a cliff (after safely ejecting your wife of course, lest her perfect genes be wasted on you, which honestly was the point of this whole thing).
So now you have a newfound appreciation for this guy. It sounds crazy, you know. But it would it be sick to say you’re thriving now too? You were once looked at like the greatest disappointment of this woman’s life, but now she looks at you in a way that is so full of love and pity, like an injured pet on his last legs. You can do all the things you’re actually good at without being overshadowed by your useless anatomy: cooking, cleaning, and of course, your favorite, allll of her dirty laundry. You can’t count the number of times you’ve carefully cleaned her panties, hand-washed so you can run your fingers over any remnants of his and her fluids on the crotch of an expensive piece you definitely paid for. Domestically blissful with an endless font of nasty thoughts about that man’s cock plowed inside her, you’re basking in all your glory as the guy who got fucked over by his wife and her new man. You wouldn’t have it any other way.
