How I've Spent the Last Six Months Part Nine

So for the next few days, I lived the strangest double life you could possibly imagine.

One moment my husband would be moody and quiet and avoid talking or looking at me – the typical behavior of a jealous husband who’s just found out his wife was fooling around with another man. But then he’d get all lovey-dovey and sexual and fuck me – I mean REALLY fuck me – while talking about the dirty shit he’s going to make me do.

Getting another guy to fuck me. Making me pick up strange men. Gangbangs. Gloryholes. Orgies.

To be honest, it started to lose it’s appeal after a day and a half. I mean, I loved the passion and energy he showed while he ground his throbbing dick into me, biting my shoulder, squeezing my tits, slapping my arse and cumming in buckets deep inside my pussy… But I started to feel like a piece of meat.

It’s like he couldn’t bear to be intimate with me unless he was talking about another guy fucking me. I’d stopped being his wife – or his LittleKittySlave – and just became a whore he wanted to use and abuse. It stopped being sexy and started just getting weird.

The worst part was when he got his rocks off and came. Then he’d suddenly flip back to being moody, distant and jealous. I could tell my confession had both inflamed and disgusted him. He’d never found me more sexually attractive but he was disgusted by me as a person.

Eventually, I had enough. Recapturing a little bit of the bossy career bitch attitude I showed earlier that day at work, I sat down and said: “What are we going to do?”

“About what?”

I explained how I felt and he nodded in mute agreement.

“I can’t stand it,” he eventually admitted. “It’s like I’m going mad. Careful what you wish for and all that.” He shook his head. “I’m just so hurt and angry about what you did.”

“How are we going to get over that,” I demanded. “Can we get over it? Are we going to have to get a divorce?” I honestly thought that was what it would come to.

Eventually, Hubby said something that surprised me.

“I just want to see it. To be in control of it.” He explained. “I think I’ll be okay with it if I can see you with another guy and get it out of my system.”

“You mean you want me to…?”

“I want you to fuck another guy,” Hubby nodded, and I could already see a lump swelling in the front of his trousers. “I want to see you suck his cock and lick his balls and be the totally submissive slut… But I want to be there and be in charge. I want it to be on my terms so I can deal with it.”

I guess I could understand that. Sometimes I’m a bit masculine in my thinking (helps in the office, I can tell you) so I guess I couldn’t get the subtle difference between me sucking another man’s cock at my husband’s insistence (his ultimate fantasy) and me wrapping my lips around a dick in my own spare time (like I’d done with Darren.)

But men are fragile, insecure little creatures. They like to think they’re in charge.

In any event, just talking it through did help things. Hubby put his arm around me while we watched House that evening. He laughed and joked as we did the washing up. Things almost seemed to be returning to normal.

Were we any closer to Hubby actually making good on all his fantasies? Well, I hated to undermine my new, dominant Hubby – but I’d believe it when I saw it.