NapierBone
Experienced
- Joined
- Jan 27, 2023
- Posts
- 94
Spoiler alert: if you're jumping into this thread looking for cuckolding fantasies to stroke to, you've come to the wrong place. This is just a speculative post relating my experience of having a cuckolding fetish for a long time, and its motivation - because it's a perplexing one (even Freud confessed to finding it puzzling, and he hardly underestimated his own intellectual capacities), and because I'm glad to be free of it now, even if it turned me on wildly for about a decade or so. There might be others who also want to be free of it.
I'm not sure when I started having cuckold fantasies - some time around when Tumblr was overflowing with Cuckold Caption threads, and well into adulthood. And when it started, it really really didn't make any sense to me. I'd had general submissive and BDSM fantasies for a long time (and still do, to some extent). But the times in my life when I'd actually been cuckolded had been horribly painful and traumatic for me.
But now there I was, fantasising not just about other men fucking my wife - but about watching it happen. About having her and sometimes her bull taunt me with how orgasmic he was making her. About how much she craved his cock. Humiliating me with the sexual ecstasy they were enjoying together and that I could never have - and seeing what she was willing to do for him and his cock (anything, anything, the more degrading the better), that she would never do for me.
Now, I don't think there was anything wrong with those fantasies, as such. I enjoyed them; there was a plentiful supply of material to keep me entertained and stroking to them; and my wife was to some extent happy to indulge them, at the level of pillow talk. But at the same time on some level it disturbed me. What was the matter with me that I was so turned on by that kind of humiliation? And wasn't the post-coital glow a little awkward, when we both knew it was my wife talking about another man being inside her that had made me cum?
And it only got more extreme over time. I went from sometimes indulging in a little MFM fantasy to having being cock-caged as my go-to orgasm image, to basically having cuckold scenarios as the only way I could cum. I even started plotting out ways of making them happen. What steps could I take to get from dirty talk to dirty reality? How would we meet bulls?
Anyway, all of this was on a long-term simmer all the way through COVID. And once the restrictions started easing I started exploring a few tentative avenues into the swinger scene, wondering if I could find what I was looking for.
And then, out of the blue, and a propos of pretty much nothing at all, it hit me: this wasn't really what I wanted. Despite the fact that the thought of other men taking my wife made me pretty much instantly hard, that wasn't my real desire.
My real desire was to be that man. The one to whose cock she was so addicted she would do anything for more of it. The one who could get away with cumming in her mouth and ass and still make her beg for more. The one who could pound her and pound her and still she would always want more.
And my problem wasn't so much that I felt inadequate to doing that (the way 'cuck' is so often used as an insult). Really, it was that that fantasy made me feel incredibly guilty. Deep down, I was convinced that there was something intrinsically humiliating and submissive in women's sexual desire, and that to be sexually satisfying for a woman was thus to humiliate and dominate. But down deep in my psyche, I didn't want to be that bad - abusive, humiliating - man. I couldn't let myself be that person.
But still - I wanted that experience. I need that sexual release, and I needed my wife to have it too. And so I simply ended up projecting that 'bad man' role onto a fantasy figure. That person would do all the evil, awful stuff; and under those conditions I could enjoy myself. As long as I wasn't, myself, that guy. As long as I was a witness, and not an agent.
And once I'd realised that basic projective medicine, the fantasies lost their hold on me. That's not to say that I stopped having them right away, or that I don't still sometimes have them now. But they stopped being so compelling and so necessary. They stopped having that power.
And slowly, over the past few months, I've started to be able to see myself in that dominant role. Have started to see how I can do that without being evil, abusive, cruel. Have begun to understand that when female sexuality is submissive or involves abnegation it doesn't require absolute degradation and mistreatment. And, of course, a woman's sexuality is often not that, or not just that.
It would be possible to psychoanalyse further. To trace this back to puritanical parents, and a formative relationship with someone who really had been seriously sexually abused. But the real point is that, if you've got a cuckold fetish - no matter how strong, no matter how recurrent - it bears examination. It might not be what you really want. And there might be a comparatively straight path through it that doesn't in the end risk your self-respect or your relationship.
That's it. That's all. I'm sure this doesn't apply to everyone. But it applies to me. And if it applies to me, there must be others out there roughly the same.
I'm not sure when I started having cuckold fantasies - some time around when Tumblr was overflowing with Cuckold Caption threads, and well into adulthood. And when it started, it really really didn't make any sense to me. I'd had general submissive and BDSM fantasies for a long time (and still do, to some extent). But the times in my life when I'd actually been cuckolded had been horribly painful and traumatic for me.
But now there I was, fantasising not just about other men fucking my wife - but about watching it happen. About having her and sometimes her bull taunt me with how orgasmic he was making her. About how much she craved his cock. Humiliating me with the sexual ecstasy they were enjoying together and that I could never have - and seeing what she was willing to do for him and his cock (anything, anything, the more degrading the better), that she would never do for me.
Now, I don't think there was anything wrong with those fantasies, as such. I enjoyed them; there was a plentiful supply of material to keep me entertained and stroking to them; and my wife was to some extent happy to indulge them, at the level of pillow talk. But at the same time on some level it disturbed me. What was the matter with me that I was so turned on by that kind of humiliation? And wasn't the post-coital glow a little awkward, when we both knew it was my wife talking about another man being inside her that had made me cum?
And it only got more extreme over time. I went from sometimes indulging in a little MFM fantasy to having being cock-caged as my go-to orgasm image, to basically having cuckold scenarios as the only way I could cum. I even started plotting out ways of making them happen. What steps could I take to get from dirty talk to dirty reality? How would we meet bulls?
Anyway, all of this was on a long-term simmer all the way through COVID. And once the restrictions started easing I started exploring a few tentative avenues into the swinger scene, wondering if I could find what I was looking for.
And then, out of the blue, and a propos of pretty much nothing at all, it hit me: this wasn't really what I wanted. Despite the fact that the thought of other men taking my wife made me pretty much instantly hard, that wasn't my real desire.
My real desire was to be that man. The one to whose cock she was so addicted she would do anything for more of it. The one who could get away with cumming in her mouth and ass and still make her beg for more. The one who could pound her and pound her and still she would always want more.
And my problem wasn't so much that I felt inadequate to doing that (the way 'cuck' is so often used as an insult). Really, it was that that fantasy made me feel incredibly guilty. Deep down, I was convinced that there was something intrinsically humiliating and submissive in women's sexual desire, and that to be sexually satisfying for a woman was thus to humiliate and dominate. But down deep in my psyche, I didn't want to be that bad - abusive, humiliating - man. I couldn't let myself be that person.
But still - I wanted that experience. I need that sexual release, and I needed my wife to have it too. And so I simply ended up projecting that 'bad man' role onto a fantasy figure. That person would do all the evil, awful stuff; and under those conditions I could enjoy myself. As long as I wasn't, myself, that guy. As long as I was a witness, and not an agent.
And once I'd realised that basic projective medicine, the fantasies lost their hold on me. That's not to say that I stopped having them right away, or that I don't still sometimes have them now. But they stopped being so compelling and so necessary. They stopped having that power.
And slowly, over the past few months, I've started to be able to see myself in that dominant role. Have started to see how I can do that without being evil, abusive, cruel. Have begun to understand that when female sexuality is submissive or involves abnegation it doesn't require absolute degradation and mistreatment. And, of course, a woman's sexuality is often not that, or not just that.
It would be possible to psychoanalyse further. To trace this back to puritanical parents, and a formative relationship with someone who really had been seriously sexually abused. But the real point is that, if you've got a cuckold fetish - no matter how strong, no matter how recurrent - it bears examination. It might not be what you really want. And there might be a comparatively straight path through it that doesn't in the end risk your self-respect or your relationship.
That's it. That's all. I'm sure this doesn't apply to everyone. But it applies to me. And if it applies to me, there must be others out there roughly the same.