This is a true confession from a husband sent to me months ago. He only recently gave me the go-ahead to make it public.
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Dear Master Shango,
I have a dilemma that I know not how to resolve. You might think it weird by the time you’re done reading this, but I assure you that it’s true, and it’s happening to me. Who knows, maybe you, too, have found yourself in a similar situation and in that case, you will relate with what I am about to present.
I have been living in an adulterous relationship for the past seven months; the adulterer is my wife!
Yes, that is the God-honest truth. However, I do not despise my wife for cheating on me—she has no idea that I am aware of her habits, which is where the dilemma comes in. You see, I would love for her to know that I know. I want so much for her to continue doing what she’s doing with her lover (or list of lovers, as I’m yet to know how many she might have out there), but I’m worried that her being aware might frighten her off and that I might end up losing her.
Now you see where I’m coming from, don’t you? Does that make me weird or crazy? I can say that it only depends on where you’re standing. For me, I have long passed the notion of feeling ashamed about expressing my thoughts and desires on paper. I have wanted this since the first time I caught my wife, Betty, cheating on me. Except back then I was confused about what to make of things. I could not put my thoughts together. I never would be thinking about this had that day not happened.
How did it happen? It was all because of an accident one morning that I was on my way to work.
I got into my car and pulled out of my driveway and was heading toward my bank job when at the first intersection leading out of my neighbourhood, a car came barrelling around a bend and I was seconds too late to avoid colliding with it. The car rammed into my left headlight, cracking my bumper guard. We stood there for several minutes arguing specifics before finally deciding to exchange insurance details. Already I was getting late for work. I had seen a grey truck drive past me but the vehicle didn’t register until later when I decided to stroll back home and borrow Betty’s car. I had no idea if she would be making use of it, and prayed I didn’t have to end up calling an Uber instead.
It was a seven-minute walk to my house, holding my jacket in my arm. I saw the grey truck parked a short distance from my driveway; I had no clue whom it belonged to, at least not then.
I entered my house and was halfway up the stairs when I heard laughter from the corridor. I recognised Betty’s voice, except another was laughing alongside her—a man’s voice!
I crept toward the bedroom door and heard their voice grow more distinct. The guy was asking her when I would be back home.
“Who cares when he’ll be back,” said my wife, “let’s fuck, for God’s sake!”
I was in disbelief and couldn’t believe what I’d heard. I inched the door open and peered into the room.
Sure enough, my wife wasn’t alone inside—a black man was in there with her. Betty sat on the bed naked while the blacks stranger was hurrying out of his jeans. I held my breath as I observed them from behind the door, careful not to make any sudden move to alert them. I was of half the mind to surprise them, and I cannot explain why I chose not to. Maybe it was because it was such a crazy, surreal thing to see: my wife getting ready to cheat on me with another man! There was every indication she had done it before without me being aware; why else would she audaciously invite her lover to our home?
The black man stood naked before Betty, and I had an instant to see his swinging dick before Betty grabbed hold of it and brought it to her mouth. You have no idea the horror that comes when you spy your wife giving head to a stranger in your presence. I wanted to throw up, yet stood there and watched as the man fell on top of her.
They rolled on the bed. Betty opened her legs for the black stranger to insert himself inside her while her arms and feet stayed locked around his backside. She groaned and pelted the man with kisses as he began fucking her. Yes, I stood behind the door and watched another man sink his cock inside my wife, and I made no attempt at stopping them. To tell the truth, I wasn't even angry.
I watched for a while then quietly left them together and went back down the stairs to where I had left my coat, and left the house. I did call for an Uber and as expected, got to my office an hour late than usual. I called Betty up around noon to find out how she was doing. The whole time she talked, I fantasised that her black lover was behind her, caressing her body and kissing the back of her neck. The thought of that got my erection growing hard in my pants as I quickly told Betty I would home later in the evening. When I ended the call, I sat back and pictured her lover bending her over the bed and fucking her. I left my desk and went into my office restroom to masturbate.
That was the first time I found out about Betty's cheating habits, but it wasn't the last. I started being more stealthy with her. I went and purchased miniature spy cameras and hid them around the house. Every night I would check on the output. It was almost a week before I found a recording of her having sex, except this was a different stranger. I wondered where she was finding them. They made out in the living room before then taking things upstairs. The recording I enjoyed the most was when she invited two men to the house one weekend that I traveled out of town on a business trip. This occurred three months ago. I have no idea if the men stayed over for the weekend I was gone, but I realised I had enough recording to masturbate when I returned home. Since I installed the cameras in the preceding months, I have procured enough recordings of my whore-wife that would for a worthy porn library.
But as much as I enjoy watching her cheat on me, what I crave the most is to be there in actual person to watch her. I have read tons of articles on the cuckold subject. I have registered with several online adult forum catering to such, including exchanging photos with other husbands/couples currently living the swingers/stag lifestyle. It is like an addiction to me now. In my dreams, I imagine myself returning home and forced to watch Betty and her lover have sex with a multitude of men who fuck her almost without impunity; my masturbation is always vivid when I reflect on this.
Postscript:
Betty had gone the past two weeks without having sex with any of her lovers. I have checked through the camera recordings and found nothing. Zilch. I am worried whether she possibly knows that I am aware of her habit, or if she may have decided to quit the lifestyle. As it stands, I am afraid to inquire and yet to know how to raise this subject with her.
However, I will retain patience and keep you posted on how things are going. Stay tuned.