sea-quean-seeks-cake

He fucked someone else the other night.

I knew what was happening, but he never came right out and told me. He made me ask, made me say those words.

“Did you fuck her?”

And when he said “yes” I was never so turned on in my life. He told me all about it while he made me suck his cock. I could still taste her pussy on him. I loved it. I was jealous and horny and it was amazing. It was the best high you could ever have.

Good old cuckqueanism and it’s emotional rollercoaster!

“Please tell me how much you love fucking her” 😍

“Hmpf, all he does is talk about her” 🙄

Thanks for the ask! I get this question a lot…

While there may be online communities or dating sites geared specifically toward cuckqueans and men seeking them, I am personally not aware of any. Perhaps one of my followers can jump in and help you with that if they know of any? I seem to recall one being launched in recent months, but I don’t think it fared well as the members were mostly all men like yourself looking for a cuckquean.

I feel that most men just happen upon cuckqueans anyway, and they don’t generally find out that she is one until farther down the road in the relationship - once trust and a solid commitment have been established. It requires a great deal of trust and stability for a cuckquean to admit to these desires, much less to actually act upon them. Society tries to dictate that there is something very wrong with us for feeling this way. In other words, I feel that most women just aren’t going to advertise themselves as a “cuckquean looking for a husband/partner.”

If a cuckquean is aware of her proclivities, chances are she’ll keep it under wraps until she’s comfortable revealing it to her partner. Having said that, it’s also not something you want to mention on a first date or meeting. Even if she is a cuckquean, common sense dictates that she likely won’t respond favorably to a suggestion that she watch you/allow you to fuck other women right off the bat. I can’t emphasize the established trust factor enough.

While not geared specifically to the lifestyle, consider kink sites like Fetlife for meeting cuckqueans. There are groups for everything there, including cuckqueanism. Your chances of coming across one are higher on kink, poly, or swinger dating sites than on vanilla ones since most cuckqueans will identify as submissive anyway, and they are typically more sex positive and open to kinks. Of course, Tumblr is also an option, but I’ve found that most cuckqueans here are already in a relationship and truly don’t want to be bothered by other men.

Rather than looking specifically for a cuckquean, perhaps you might also consider becoming a man whom a woman would feel comfortable submitting to in this fashion. Cuckqueans aren’t all that common but well worth the effort! Best of luck to you!

Where we live in the country, there are coffee stands on nearly every corner. In some counties, there are even coffee stands that offer a little something extra with your coffee. Im not sure why they’re called bikini baristas. Ive never seen a girl in a bikini. In fact, I’ve only ever seen them wear lingerie, electrical tape with a thong, or stripper outfits to be honest.

Keeping this in mind, I suggested to my husband during a particularly fun conversation that perhaps he should go down there, order a coffee, flirt a bit, and see how things go. Maybe after regular visits, he’d find a girl he hit it off with.

It was playful conversation one night during foreplay. Afterwards, I wanted to take a bit of the pressure off of him. After all, this was my fantasy, not his… I told him it wouldn’t matter if it actually happened. Making up a story to tell me about picking up one of the baristas and bringing her home to our bed to fuck her, would do just as well.

…

A few days passed and then I got a text, “Can’t wait to tell you all about the barista tonight while I fuck you.” My knees weakened a bit as I reread the message over and over. Unconsciously, I bit my lip and reached down to touch the wetness that was forming between my legs.

I kinda hoped that he would wait awhile before making up the barista story, cause I wanted it to feel believable. Regardless, this was the first step in our cuckquean adventure and I was just excited he was playing along.

When he appeared at the front door that night, he was already wearing a sly smile. He opened the door and found me standing in the kitchen, finishing up the dishes. Brushing the hair off my shoulders, he leaned in and kissed my neck. “When you finish up here, meet me in the room.”

…

“Come here, I want to show you something,” he demanded. I crawled across the bed to where he was seated. He motioned for me to sit in front of him and lay back against the heat of his chest. Whatever it was we were about to look at, he wanted me front row, but with access to my body.

I leaned back against him as he scrolled through an Instagram page full of what I could now tell was bikini baristas. “Ooooh, which one did you pick to tell me about?” I asked.

The squares on the screen each featured a different girl in sexy clothes. Most were playing to the camera with their puckered lips and perky tits. “Which one would you want me to fuck?” he growled in my ear.

“Mmmm,” his breath against my neck made me weak. I scrolled through and looked at all of our options. Each one was pretty in her own rite. They were all around 10-15 years younger than me, and none looked like they’d had children. Everything about them was perfect and perky.

I found a petite brunette with a round ass and big natural tits. She also was dressed in the prettiest black lace lingerie, with a garter belt and thigh highs to match. I knew he’d like her. “I want you to bring her home, baby,” I said as I clicked the square, enlarging the original picture.

She was prettier than me, not by much, but by enough that I felt a pang of insecurity as he grazed his thumb over the picture. “I was hoping you’d like that one,” he whispered against my neck. “I took your advice, baby girl. I stopped by that coffee stand on my way to work yesterday.” His fingers skimmed along my thighs. I uncrossed my legs to allow him more access.

“I ordered a drink, but they were out of what I wanted, so I asked the barista to recommend a drink for me.” He went on to tell me about their flirtacious banter. “When I signed the receipt, I wrote my number on the bottom.” His fingers now lightly grazed my parted lips through the fabric. I was already a dripping mess. I leaned into him as he swirled his finger around my clit, barely touching me.

“She texted me yesterday. Nothing risque… at first, but we got to talking and I told her about your dirty little fantasy. I casually mentioned I was having a hard time meeting girls in the area who would be down with the situation and she didn’t believe me. She said I shouldn’t have any trouble at all finding girls to fuck.”

I whimpered as he pulled my thong to the side, exposing me. “We’ll look at that,” he cooed, “I haven’t even gotten to the good part and you’re already a mess.” His fingers circled over my clit while, with his other hand, he reached up under my shirt for a handful of my tits.

Teasing me with his fingers, he tells me how casual conversation turned into flirting last night. He says she sent him pictures and exits the instagram app. He opens his messages and suddenly I’m confused.

Wait, did this actually happen or is this fantasy?

He scrolls quickly through conversation so I can’t read it. My brain tries playing catch up. So, wait, this actually happened? He went down there to pick up a girl? My stomach is in knots. I feel light-headed and try to come to terms with what is happening. I wanted this… Right? He opens one of the pictures she sent, its a sexy shot of her in lingerie. Fuck, I think. She’s gorgeous… I’m feeling wildly insecure. Maybe I can’t do this.

He flips through a few more photos of her in lingerie before he stops and pulls his fingers away from my clit. His fingers are slick. My pussy is wet with envy. “There’s no denying it now, baby… I knew this turned you on, but I’ve never seen you soak through the bedsheet like that, ” he says pointing to the puddle in our bed.

I’m embarrassed. So many thoughts are going through my head, everything is chaos, the room starts to spin. He swipes to show me the last picture.

I audibly gasp when it comes into focus. “Look at that,” he says, zooming in on the center of the photo. She’s seated on a bed with her legs splayed open. Her right hand is holding the phone while her left hand spreads her pussy open. It’s fucking beautiful and pink and perfect. “That’s the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen,” he whispers into my ear. I whimper again and he slides his fingers inside me.

I lean back into him and close my eyes.

“I could hardly keep up at work last night. Between texting her all night and two trips I had to make to the bathroom, I was behind the whole time. I got so hard looking at her pictures and talking about her being apart of your fucked up little fantasy, I had to jerk off. But the conversation kept going beyond that and before I knew it, I had to jerk off again. That’s never happened to me before. I don’t know that I’ve ever been that turned on.” His words sting, but the ache between my legs intensifies. My hips buck upward, my body betraying me and begging him to continue as the pressure builds.

“You like that, huh, baby?”

I nod my head.

“No, I want to hear you say it.”

My voice cracks. I’m so close now. “You should go back tomorrow. I want you to fuck her. You deserve to fuck her, baby.” I’m right on the edge.

“Remember when I picked up coffee for us this morning?” he asks, “…I fucked her first.”

An intense orgasm washes through my body. His fingers slow to a steady pace as we ride through my clenching muscle spasms. My breath slows to a normal pace before either of us speaks.

“That was everything I hoped it would be, babe,” I said as I rested against him, “Thank you.”

Holding my chin, he turns my face up towards his, “Show me your thankful,” he says, “get on your knees.” I do as I’m told and slide off the bed and get down. He turns to grab something from the bed. I wait patiently at his feet.

It’s his phone. He opens a video and starts to watch. There’s a lot of heavy breathing and smacking sounds. Then I hear his voice coming from the video, “Oh my God. Your pussy is so tight. Fuck.”

I’ve received a lot of inquiries about our involvement with the humiliation aspect. We don’t practice the more common name calling or the setting me up (“get dressed up, you’re getting a date, just kidding!”) - and we never will.

All in all, many of us have been wired to believe that our person fucking another is shameful “why am I not enough?” So that thought - that quiet, subtle thought - is inherently humiliating by socials “norms.” But there are more scenarios that are not name calling that I would or have done….

- waiting in the car until he’s done.

- Him making plans with another when I’m right there, eagerly waiting.

- taking a call while I give him a blow job.

- playing video games while an Other is going down on him. This humiliates them, but totally turns me on.

- me just serving him and an Other during a threesome. Not announcing I won’t get touched, just not touching me - keeping the woman the focus.

- gently shoving my face under them while they fuck.

So, after months of fantasising about my boyfriend fucking other girls, I finally told him how I feel. I was so nervous and didn’t know how he would take it or where it would even go, but he seemed to take it really well and agreed to divulge me in this fantasy and begin to make it a reality.

At first we started to role play and pretend with dirty talk. He was so good. He’d go out of a night and the next morning we would have sex and he’d begin it by telling me he fucked someone last night, and continue to tell me explicit details of how he took a girl into the bathroom stall, turned her around, pushed her up against the wall and fucked her ass while he played with her huge boobs. I was so turned on every time he would talk like that to me that we ended up doing it nearly every time we had sex.

So you all remember the cute gas station girl, right?

Well for a while now, husband has been trying to casually catch her at work, as they joked he’d have to come back soon.

After so long without success, we figured she must have been covering from another store. I stopped asking when he got home if he saw her.

Today, when I get home from work, in a lull between the usual married chatter, he says “Her name is Nora.”. And my heart stopped. She has a name. Maybe a name he’ll whisper sensually into her collarbones while he unbuttons her jeans.

He tells me he walked in, and she immediately smiled and greeted him. A joke from their previous encounter was brought up, again. Cue inside joke territory. They were brief, but he says she was nervous. Smiling, laughing, playing with her hair and nails. He ventured to offer his name and she happily replied with hers.

He told her “See you soon.”. She said “I hope!”.

He smiled when he said this and whispered “This is so gonna happen” with the same air of reverence he had when he realised his little newly legal co-worker wanted his married cock to take her virginity.

That settles it. He’s going to stop by every night till they form enough rapport to exchange numbers. Then I’ll get to read in real time everything she says to him.

Will she send nudes? I hope so. God, I hope so. I want my husband to fuck my waiting mouth while staring so intensely at a picture of her no doubt pierced little nipples that his breath clouds the phone screen.

What I know of her so far, according to husband:

She’s legal to work in a gas station, but not old enough to sell liquor at a restaurant. In our state, with our laws, that means she’s 18. Not a day older, not a day younger.

She has dark brown hair to her shoulder blades and bright blue eyes. Slim waist, full hips, and nice, full tits. I asked if they were bigger than mine. He threw his head back and hissed in ecstasy “Yessss. God, yes. So much bigger. I bet I could wrap them around my cock and just….” he couldnt finish for smiling so wide and I couldn’t stand from the shaking in my knees.

Shes got piercings and tattoos befitting a newly graduated little rebel type.

He says shes a bit spunky.

Maybe…trying to steal a married man type spunky?

Obviously, my husband’s heart is mine alone forever, but his cock needs young pussy. So maybe let her comment on his wedding band. Let him wave it off before kissing her deeply. Soflty, but insistent. The way a real man does.

Let her maybe get a thrill from letting a married man finger her in the back seat of his management salary car.

Let her think she’s going to fuck him till he loves her as she’s lowering herself onto him to the sound of a deep and thankful moan.

Let him hold her, stroking her hair, kissing her shoulder blades, teasing her nipples with absent fingertips.

Let her think Im the dumbest bitch in the world when she meets me and she’s introduced as friend. Let her think she’s won when he laughs to her about how he almost moaned her name during sex the other night while shes sucking him so hard he can feel his balls ache.

Let her be a bad girl for a while, till she’s bored and we have to say goodbye to naughty “is she reading these?” texts until a new sweet thing catches husband’s discerning eye.

Let him live the fantasy of a man forever sneaking off to feel the tight, soft warmth of the sexed up, writhing young woman his wife used to be.

Let them always think they’ve won, with their firm tits and plans for my husband’s Christmas bonus once she’s living in my house in my old bed.

Let them always be this pretty, this willing, this uncontrollably drawn to my charmingly awkward husband.

And let me always, always cum from the mere thought of it all.