Cuckolded

From behind the closed doors of the rooms came the sounds of good sex. Really good, if you know what I mean. A symphony for four voices.

I lay in my claustrophobic, windowless solitude, unable to find a comfortable position on the bed. I tossed and turned, listening with a slight sense of embarrassment, a spark of which still smoldered within me. But how could I not feel a twinge of jealousy and arousal at the loud moans of someone else's pleasure? Pleasure achieved by two pairs of lovers, but not meant for me.

The steel cage on my penis, which hadn’t bothered me all day, now began to make its presence known. The ring suddenly felt too tight, crushing my balls. My trapped cock, or rather, at that moment, a chaotically pulsating, sore piece of living flesh, desperately tried to straighten itself out. In vain. I longed for intimacy with a woman or, realizing that was impossible, at least a triple round of masturbation, spasms, and half-meter ejaculations. Yet, I couldn’t satisfy my desire. Cumming in the cage would have been a pathetic alternative, a kind of surrender and shame before myself. And frankly, a rather pitiful non-orgasm.

Truth be told, I didn’t really want to release the tension. I enjoy it when my own psyche mocks me, tormenting both my mind and body, putting them through an endless trial. I decided on the heroism of living in dissatisfaction, because nothing could surpass that. So, I surrendered to my emotions, well aware that behind those doors, no harm was coming to my Cindy, and that she was simply happy. And after all, that’s what I wanted for her.

Eventually, I had my fill of the sensations. Yet, I was still hungry for more, craving much, much more… I visualized fantastical images. I was ready for so much, to fulfill every command of the lovers and every humiliation they might impose. But I knew it wouldn’t happen. Certainly not that evening. Listening from the next room and imagining their techniques and positions had to be enough. Is this what my sex life is supposed to be? As a submissive cuckold, I find fulfillment in what I’m given, and I have no right to demand more. It’s a bitter pill to swallow.

I finished my wine, got dressed, and went out into the city illuminated by the night. At the first bar I found, I ordered some strong drinks and downed them in one gulp. I also grabbed a large pilsner to go. I walked around the market square with a big cup of beer, only later realizing that it probably wasn’t allowed. But at the time, I didn’t think about it. Various thoughts swirled in my head. I felt both excitement from the recent experiences and a slight melancholy. The alcohol was already taking effect. I drifted along in my own style.

Around me, I saw smiling couples. I wanted to see all the women as hotties, and I categorized the men as lovers or cuckolds. After all, I couldn’t see them as average people practicing monogamy and having, in my opinion, hopelessly boring sex. Who wouldn’t want to taste cuckolding or even greater experiences from the wide realm of taboo? It seemed almost impossible to me. And what about the roles in sex? Why did I take on this one, the cuckold, and a submissive one at that, and not another—like the lover, even though I’m convinced I could be the biggest bull in the world. Hell! I already am. In spe, of course, but that’s something too. How is it that women don’t see it in me, that they’re not even aware of what they’re missing? Where am I going wrong?

That evening, attractive hotties glanced at me as I passed by. Some were with their partners, others sat alone or with friends at café tables. I smiled back at them, knowing full well that nothing would come of it. After all, I wouldn’t stop and flirt. Why, and for what purpose? Maybe an erotic adventure in a foreign city would boost my ego, but would it bring pleasure without guilt? And how would I even go about it technically?

I snapped out of my lethargy when I felt the weight of the chastity cage between my thighs again. In moments like these, it’s a salvation from futile dilemmas, my uncompromising steel guardian angel. My phone snapped me back to reality instantly. I could return to the hotel because it was all over—meaning there was a break in their lovemaking, and we could finally go out together. It had been a long time. The longer it went on, the more my sexual frustration grew, behind which lay an immense masochistic pleasure.

I had a short, fragmented sleep and woke up with a terrible headache. I had mixed too much. Thankfully, my reliable homeostatic system allowed me to return to the land of the living fairly quickly. Before we all went our separate ways, we took a short walk around the old town. Cindy held her hand and looked fulfilled. They talked and smiled at each other. I followed them like a dog, step by step, though without a leash and at a distance so as not to intrude on their intimacy or overhear their conversation. I don’t need or want to know everything. Some kinds of intimacy should mature without witnesses, I believe.

During the drive back, my fingers performed a series of intense exercises to bring Cindy to orgasm, giving her pleasure for at least 100 miles. The entire time, I was in an ecstatic state, reveling in the touch of her body. It felt as though I hadn’t seen her in months or was just getting to know her. I could have come just from inhaling her scent. I had missed her so much since last night. And to think, our relationship has lasted over 16 years.

But it was she who gave me an incredible orgasm when we got home. She released me and allowed me to make love to her until the end. A completely ordinary act, as we were both utterly exhausted, but for me, it was the best sex that exists. Because since spring, I’ve only had permission a few times. So, I did it greedily yet tenderly. I came with fireworks. And now… I’ll have to wait a long time for the next opportunity. In our relationship, the lover takes precedence over me. And in time, who knows how it will be.

We went to bed quite early, both very satisfied and exhausted by the events of the past day. The next day, another week began.