Diary of a Cuckold – Part 1

Hi, I’m Jessica — a wife, a hotwife, and someone who has fully embraced the beautiful journey of a female-led, cuckold relationship. I’m in my late 30s and happily married to Martin, a devoted, self-aware man who has come to not only love but thrive in his role as a cuckold.

I’m so incredibly thankful for Emma and the thoughtful, empowering blogs she writes. Honestly, many of her articles feel like she’s narrating chapters of my own life. It’s rare to find a space that gets it — the complexity, the love, the surrender, the power, the fire — and Emma captures it all.

I’ve poured my heart (and some of my wildest nights) into my writing. Diary of a Cuckold is deeply personal — it’s erotic, raw, emotional, and very much based on my real experiences with Martin. If you’ve ever wondered what this dynamic feels like from the inside — from my side — I think you’ll find a lot to connect with.

And I’m thrilled to offer my book, Diary of a Cuckold, to the readers here. If you enjoy what you read, I’d love if you would check out this title and more of my work.

Diary of A Cuckold

January 1

Dear diary,

I can hardly believe that I’m really doing this: I’m sitting here, managing the fate of 80 employees on a daily basis, and now, like a teenager, I’m supposed to capture my deepest thoughts and feelings on paper. Keeping a diary as if I wasn’t in the management of an industrial ship, but the main character in an adolescent drama.

At the end of the year, it was time for the annual health check, an internal company process that is as relentless as the tax return. Naturally, this makes no exception for the executive floor. Perhaps it’s for the best. After an intensive examination and a lengthy discussion, my doctor (I’ve forgotten his name again), with a gaze as penetrating as the security scanners at the airport, recommended that I start keeping a diary at the beginning of the new year. Stress reduction, he says. Combat inner turmoil, he says. As if writing down my thoughts could calm the turbulence in my head.

Ashamed, I take his advice – not because I believe in the healing effect, but because I want to leave no stone unturned. So I sit here, with a pen that is heavier in my hand than any decision I have made today, staring at the blank page spread out in front of me like a pristine carpet of snow.

Keeping a diary as the boss of 80 people – it’s like being advised to swap my ties for glitter stickers. But who knows? Perhaps this simple act, this retreat into your own world of thoughts, holds the key to serenity. The first entry is already done.

January 4

Now that the turn of the year and all its business turbulence is finally behind me, Jessy and I almost miraculously found time for dinner together last night. It was a small, but sweet triumph over the dictatorship of the diary.

She opted for ‘La Dolce Vita’, an Italian restaurant that always exudes a touch of romance with its authentic cuisine and rustic charm – or at least the illusion of it. The food was, as you would expect, a feast for the palate. I remember the risotto, which melted in my mouth, and the pasta, which was al dente, as if it had clockwork inside the dough.

The wine, a Chianti of remarkable quality, flowed abundantly and with each glass our mood became more relaxed. When we were both slightly tipsy, Jessy suddenly asked me if I was happy – with our marriage and also with our sex life.

In my infinite eloquence, I just shrugged my shoulders. “Joa,” I said. Not “Yes”, but “Joa”, an answer as inspiring as a gray sky on a Tuesday afternoon.

Jessy sighed and I noticed her disappointment. “Okay,” she repeated, “the word of the hour.”

I wonder if this “okay” is not the perfect symbol for our time. An age in which people are satisfied with “okay” while the world around them sinks into a maelstrom of chaos and instability. An age where “okay” is the new “good” because no one has the energy to strive for “great” anymore.

Suddenly Jessy leaned over the table and put her hand on my arm.

“Have you ever thought about a threesome?” Her voice was soft, but her eyes sparkled with a mixture of desire and playfulness.

I, who am used to making decisions based on market analyses and risk assessments, was overwhelmed at that moment. “In my teenage dreams perhaps?” I stammered, trying to hide my embarrassment behind a smile that looked as artificial as the plants in our office building.

Jessy seemed to enjoy my confusion. “Well, well,” she said, “and would you rather have another man or another woman with you?”

She raised a finger admonishingly. “Don’t answer directly – really think about it first.”

So I did.

Anke, my secretary, the first fleeting idea, was immediately ruled out.

Then, Doro – my wife’s best friend. The image of her brown, curly hair and the cheeky twinkle in her eye that she so often shows crept into my mind. A beautiful image of their bodies snuggling together, touching each other. Two naked, beautiful women and me in between…

Although it seems ridiculous, I forced myself to think about another man in our bed.

I could feel my heart beating faster and a blush rising to my face. At first, I rejected the idea out of hand, shaking my head involuntarily and trying to banish the images that were forming in my head without being asked. But there it was, an unexpected excitement spreading through me.

I was embarrassed, deeply so, that the idea of another man touching Jessy, desiring her in a way that had previously only been reserved for me, awakened something in me. Something dark, forbidden and exciting at the same time. I felt weak, overwhelmed by a fantasy that suddenly seemed more vivid than the teenage fantasy with Doro, Jessy’s best friend.

The idea of another man caressing Jessy’s skin, igniting her passion, while I was there to see her, to hear her… it was a thought that simultaneously repelled and fascinated me. I was torn between wanting to reject it immediately and being curious about what it would feel like to witness her lust being ignited by more than just me.

“So?” asked Jessy, who hadn’t taken her eyes off me for a moment. She hadn’t noticed how my cheeks had reddened. She knew the answer before I did. I’m sure she did.

I went to bed that night with a mental picture that is too intimate for me to write down here.

January 5

Today has been a strange day, to say the least. I almost feel guilty admitting it, but my thoughts have been anything but focused on work. I can’t believe I’m writing this now, but my conversation with Jessy threw me completely off track. I even snuck out of the office early, a behavior that is actually atypical for me.

At home, I fled to the internet in search of porn. And the search terms I typed in… ‘threesome’, ‘mmf’ and ‘groupsex’ – I blush just writing those words.

The content I found was disturbing and drew me even more into this vortex of confusion. I couldn’t take my eyes off what I was seeing on the screen: a blonde sucking two cocks at the same time. Two men penetrating a brunette from the front and behind at the same time.

I had hoped that my arousal would disappear after a hot shower, but that wasn’t the case. I need to find a way to deal with these unexpected and inappropriate feelings. Tomorrow is a new day and I hope I can refocus on what really matters.

January 10

Jessy and I were invited to a business lunch at my company today. We had both dressed up and I have to say, Jessy looked stunning in her black dress.

The venue was buzzing with conversation, around 30 guests, all in fine evening wear. We were enjoying ourselves, eating and drinking and chatting without obligation. But then, when we had a moment to ourselves, Jessy picked up on our topic – and I felt myself tense up inside. She wanted to know which of the women present I found attractive. I didn’t answer directly, looked helplessly around the room, fidgeted, and when I didn’t answer, she pointed to a man further back in the room without a trace of hesitation. I didn’t know him.

He was an attractive man in his forties, athletic and full of charisma. And Jessy, with a smile that I couldn’t quite interpret, said: “I can imagine that you really have fun in bed with him.” I was speechless, embarrassed, and at the same time… excited.

“Come on!” she whispered in my ear. “Who from the party would you take with you?”

And, I still can’t believe I said that, but I whispered in her ear, “I think your taste is pretty good.”

Jessy is already in bed and asleep while I’m writing this in an agitated state. We were too tired for sex after the long evening today – but I can’t shake the idea that we would have taken this man from the party with us. I wonder how big his cock is. Why does that excite me so much? I want to understand.

January 12

For two days, I took a superficial plunge into human psychology, researching, digging, fighting my way through scientific papers to understand where our desires actually come from. Kinks, sexual preferences – they are not just fleeting whims, but deeply rooted in our being, perhaps even shaped by the first years of life.

It is commonly believed that the most innocent moments of our childhood, moments of comfort and closeness, could lay the blueprint for our most intimate desires. A child that has been nurtured at its mother’s breast for a long time finds security and contentment there. Later, the theory goes, this child could unconsciously evoke this same feeling as an adult and feel attracted to women with ample breasts. Isn’t that fascinating? Frightening?

And I ask myself: What has shaped me?

My mother was a loving soul who looked after the house and the family so selflessly. And my father… he was a man of few words whose passion for his craft was immeasurable, but whose ability to show love seemed limited. For years I longed in vain for his approval, for a spark of pride in his eyes. But nothing I did ever seemed good enough.

Today I’m in the management of a large company, but in my father’s eyes? It’s as if I’ve never achieved anything. No real work, he says. These words burn inside me like an inextinguishable fire of shame.

Did that lead to this dark side of me? That side that makes me feel so ashamed? It’s as if the shadows of my childhood are driving me into the arms of a pain that simultaneously triggers despair and lust in me. The fantasy of another man, a ‘better’ man, flirting with my wife, desiring her… It is an agony that paradoxically excites me. Is it shame that drives me? The shame that turns into lust?

I feel exposed, vulnerable, by admitting this. But it’s the truth. It’s absurd that I never realized this before.

January 15

Jessy and I slept together tonight. But it wasn’t like usual.

We had let ourselves fall onto the sofa, the silence of the house around us, soft music playing from the stereo. We snuggled together, our hands found each other, tenderly, almost shyly, as if it was the first time. I could breathe in her scent, that beguiling scent that always drives me crazy.

We caressed each other, slowly, with an intensity that I love so much. We undressed, kissed each other all over and made love on the couch.

And then, while we were making love, in this act of complete fusion, she whispered something in my ear. Her words were like a bolt of lightning that struck my consciousness. “Imagine if he was with us now, the handsome man from the party…”

I can hardly put into words what was going on inside me. My mind exploded into a thousand splinters. Was this what I wanted? Was this what I wanted? The idea alone, like a wild fire eating its way through my thoughts, made me tremble. I couldn’t deny that a dark, forbidden part of me had been awakened, a part that cried out for more, for the abyss of lust.

And Jessy…, she knew it, she was playing with me, with my desire, as if I were a puppet in her sensual theater.

It wasn’t just my mind that exploded – my crotch also contracted spasmodically and I poured myself into her, moaning and twitching. Normally I’m considerate and make sure that she orgasms too – but her words had made me furious and swept away all restraint.

I apologized, gasping, while she wiped my cum from her lap with a T-shirt, but she just grinned. “Nice to see how that idea turns you on.”

Oh yes, I thought. And how!

Continue to Part 2