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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.
Just getting started with this series? Check out Part 1
February 1
Jessy and I had an interesting conversation this evening. If she wasn’t my wife, I’d probably call it a kind of reflective conversation about the last few weeks.
“Martin, you’ve been feeling better lately, haven’t you? You seem so full of energy,” she said as we sat at the dining table. Her eyes were fixed on me, penetrating, as if they could read my every thought.
‘Yes, that’s true,’ I admitted. I felt the shame rising inside me, a hot wave that colored my cheek. I couldn’t tell her what was really going on inside me. It would have been too embarrassing.
But my wife knows me too well.
“You like that I’m a little more dominant,” she said. My heart pounded hard against my chest and I nodded sheepishly, a silent confession of my hidden desires.
“I always have to be the boss at work, Jessy. They’re always asking me for advice, putting responsibility on me…” My voice broke off. “At home, especially in bed, giving up that control feels so… liberating.”
Jessy looked at me, her expression inscrutable. “How much do you need this, Martin?” Her voice was gentle, but there was a power in her directness that made me tremble. I blushed, a deep, dark red that was answer enough.
She nodded, a satisfied smile playing around her lips. “Anything that makes you happy makes me happy,” she said, and I felt these words wrap themselves around my heart, encouraging and frightening it at the same time. Was that an announcement? A promise? I couldn’t tell, and yet I felt strangely expectant, as if we were standing on the threshold of a new world, our own dystopia, where the rules I knew so well no longer applied.
February 4
It is now 11:37 pm. Jessy has gone out with Doro. I watched her getting ready in front of the mirror, highlighting her lips with that scarlet lipstick that brings out her sensual side so perfectly. How she did her hair and slipped into a dress. It’s crazy, but the sight of her getting dressed up for the night awakens something in me, a strange mixture of pride and unease. And of course she noticed me watching her.
“What do you think, hm?” she had asked smugly.
“I want you to enjoy the evening,” I said, my voice trembling slightly with this dark anticipation. “Feel free, really.” Her smile was deep, penetrating, and it was as if she knew exactly what thoughts were haunting my mind.
Now that she’s gone, I feel like a prisoner of my own fantasies. I imagine her standing in the bar, the light playing around her silhouette and the men’s eyes lingering on her. Her curves, her bottom.
I can’t stop staring at my cell phone, waiting for a message from her, a sign of life that tells me she’s thinking of me, while she’s ensnared by the gaze of others. I’ve had a hot shower, I’ve had to satisfy myself twice in a row, but the heat of the water is nothing compared to the heat blazing inside me.
She won’t be back until two o’clock in the morning, she said. But me? I’m sure no sleep will find me until I hear the sound of her keys on the door. And even then I’ll wonder if strange hands have touched my wife’s body, strange lips have explored her mouth.
February 6
“In future, you will only sleep with me with a condom.”
Jessy and I were sitting together on the sofa, the TV had long since become nothing more than a flickering background noise. Her voice was calm but firm as she spoke the words that wrapped themselves around my heart like a vice.
“Martin, I love you very much,” she said, and I couldn’t interpret the look in her eyes, “but the last few times weren’t satisfactory for me.”
I could feel my face getting hot, the shame rising inside me. I wanted to protest, wanted to explain, but she continued. “So we’ll try condoms. That might give you a little more time.” Her suggestion hit me like a blow.
So there he was, the self-assured boss – unable to satisfy his wife because he cummed too quickly.
And condoms? I wanted to protest, but hadn’t I just asked for their dominance a few days ago?
But before I could come up with a suitable answer, she continued. “If that doesn’t help, Martin… there are also condoms with anesthetic gel, then you wouldn’t feel anything at all.”
I couldn’t speak. The idea of not feeling anything down there, of being completely under her control, was horribly humiliating – and aroused me in a way I didn’t understand.
I nodded silently and Jessy smiled the way a teacher smiles when a student gives the right answer.
She reached behind her and suddenly held a condom in her hand.
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” she giggled. “We’ll have to practise that first.”
I was too perplexed to react.
“Come on, get undressed. I want you to put it on.” Her eyes rested on me with a mixture of sternness and a kind of affection that I couldn’t quite interpret.
At first I thought she was joking and hesitated, but when she just raised her eyebrows sternly, I stood up and pulled down my pants while she watched. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, again it reminded me of a teacher waiting for her pupil to complete the task assigned to him.
I reached for the condom with trembling hands. My heart was beating so loudly that I thought it would jump out of my chest at any moment. I opened the package and there it was again, that feeling of insecurity. I carefully slipped the condom over my half-erect penis. I was embarrassed that it wasn’t even standing there in all its glory.
I stood half-naked in front of my wife, at the mercy of her scrutinizing gaze.
“Very good, Martin,” Jessy said in a voice that simultaneously sent shivers down my spine and ignited a warm feeling in my stomach. I bowed my head, ashamed of my submissiveness and yet somehow proud to be praised by her.
She grabbed my penis with one hand, lifted it up, swiveled it left and right like a materials tester from my company. “You’re not quite ready today, are you?”
She effortlessly pulled the condom off my penis. “Not that we need to buy a size smaller.”
When Jessy slept next to me later, I secretly pleasured myself next to her in bed. I had never been so humiliated and excited at the same time.
February 9
Phew! I’ve read through the entries in my diary so far: I don’t know if this is what our company doctor had in mind when he asked me to keep a diary at the end of last year. Has my anxiety increased or decreased?
I imagine I’m feeling better. I’m bursting with energy, have unbridled lust and have never felt so good. I masturbate three to four times a week and still remain strangely hungry and unsatisfied.
But this diary… I have to find a place to hide it so that nobody finds it. Imagine my wife reading my thoughts. Unthinkable!
February 13
I can’t help but think about the last few weeks, about the changes in my life that are dragging me deeper and deeper into a sea of uncertainty.
I spent hours researching on the internet to understand what was happening to me, what was happening to us. I researched ‘cuckolding’ longer and more intensively. A word that is now part of my life, a label that sticks to me like a shadow that I can’t shake off.
I found out that there are different gradations. C1, C2, C3… Categories that are supposed to define what the followers of this kink experience. A plethora of forums, video snippets and photos flooded my mind like a massive tide. Where in the mass of images of men and women fucking do I find myself?
I keep thinking about the fact that during the day I am a manager, someone who makes decisions, who bears responsibility, and yet… At home, in bed, I dream of a completely different role.
The C1 category describes men who are sexually active, a part of their wife’s sex life. They enjoy watching, as is the case with wifesharing – but they enjoy humiliation and become more and more of a spectator, a marginal figure in their own bed. I ask myself whether I really want that, whether I could bear it.
And then there is C2. You become a servant. The pleasure of the woman is the sole focus of pleasure. Sex deprivation. A ‘female lead relationship’. The idea that I’m no longer allowed to participate, that I have to watch her, that I’m kept chaste at times, it’s humiliating and yet… why does it also feel right in a twisted way?
The fear of C3 paralyzes me. I read about giving up my own masculinity completely and only being a pleasure slave for my wife and lover, the so-called bull. Quite a few users wrote on the internet that they had given up their role as a man to such an extent that they would happily be taken from behind themselves. Others dreamed of having their wife impregnated by another man. The thought of losing all rights, of watching my Jessy fly off on vacation with her lover…
No, that must not be my future. I cannot and will not allow it. And yet, when I listen deep inside myself, there is this voice that whispers: “What if this is your destiny?”
I am torn.
Where does this longing for pain and shame come from?
I am a man who is successful in the business world, who makes decisions, who leads. But at home? At home, I’m lost, insecure, weak. I don’t know how to deal with it, how to regain control, or if I even want to.
What will become of me?
What will happen to the love I feel for my wife? What will become of the husband Martin, the manager Martin, the… Cuckold Martin?
