Reddit was being glitchy last night and I accidentally deleted the original version of this post. I reuploaded the original email without my commentary last night. Here is the full original post:
Free cuckold community
Sign up now!
The subject line of the email was simple yet loaded: “Dan.” My heart skipped a beat as I opened it, my fingers hovering over the keyboard for a moment before scrolling down. The words felt like they were burning through the screen, each sentence a confession that twisted my stomach in knots even as it sent a jolt of heat straight to my core.
“I fucked Dan.”
That opening line hit me like a punch to the gut. I could almost hear her voice saying it—soft, hesitant, but with an undercurrent of something else. Guilt? Arousal? Both? I couldn’t tell. My eyes scanned the rest of the message, devouring every detail she had chosen to share, every word carefully crafted to both confess and seduce.
She started with the basics: “I’m sorry. I know I promised not to. I’m really sorry.” But then came the kicker: “I feel a little awkward writing this, but you made me promise you the details, and I hope it will turn you on enough to forgive me.”
My jaw tightened. She knew exactly what she was doing. Writing it out like this wasn’t just about honesty; it was about pushing buttons. My buttons. And damn if it wasn’t working.
She described how the evening had begun innocently enough. Dinner, wine, casual conversation. No tension, no expectations. Just two people sharing a meal and a drink. But then, as the wine flowed, so did the intimacy. Touching. Laughing. Flirting. It all felt so inevitable, even though she claimed she hadn’t seen it coming. “The topic of his kink—anal—came up,” she wrote, and I clenched my fists at the mention of it. She had always shut it down with me, insisted it wasn’t her thing. But with Dan…?
When they went to bed, she thought nothing would happen. They lay side by side, spooning, his breath slowing as if he were drifting off to sleep. But then his hand moved—slow, deliberate strokes against the small of her back. Her body responded instinctively, arching slightly, inviting more without words. He kissed her shoulders, whispered something she couldn’t quite remember, and then—bam—he kissed her. Not some chaste peck, but a full-on, open-mouthed kiss that set everything in motion.
She didn’t fight it. Why would she? There was no reason to. The guilt hadn’t kicked in yet, the wine dulling any sense of betrayal. Instead, she let herself get lost in the moment, in the way his hands roamed her body, in the press of his lips against hers. And when he slid his hand between her thighs, she didn’t stop him. She wanted it. Needed it.
Her words painted a vivid picture: “I realized I was pretty turned on.” Understatement of the century. She reciprocated, her hand finding its way to his cock, stroking him through his boxers until neither of them could wait any longer. She straddled him, grinding against him through their underwear before finally freeing him and sliding him inside her.
The description of her riding him was almost too much to bear. And then, when she shifted to missionary, her orgasm hit hard. “Intense and long,” she called it. I could imagine the way her body trembled, the way she cried out his name instead of mine.
But it was what came next that truly shattered me. After she came, Dan asked her to turn over. Prone-bone. A position she never liked with me, but with him? “It always feels good with him, no matter what he does.” That stung. But it was what followed that made my blood run cold—and hot.
He whispered in her ear, his voice low and husky, asking her to touch herself while he pushed into her from behind. And then—God help me—he brought up his kink again. Anal. The one thing she had always denied me. “PLEASE DON’T BE MAD AT THIS PART!” she begged in the email, as if sensing my reaction even from hundreds of miles away.
She described how he reached for the lube we kept in the nightstand, how he worked it into her slowly, gently, until she relaxed enough to let him in. I could almost hear his voice, coaxing her, soothing her, telling her what a good girl she was for him. And then—“it slowly pushed into me.”
The way she described it was excruciatingly vivid: the pressure, the fullness, the way it felt both foreign and strangely pleasurable. He held her close as he moved inside her, his weight pressing her into the mattress, his lips brushing her shoulders as he whispered praises into her ear. How amazing her ass felt. How much he loved her. What a good girl she was.
And then, against all odds, she came again. Harder than the first time. The sheer audacity of it—of her betraying me in such an intimate, forbidden way—was almost too much to process. But the worst part? The part that made my stomach churn and my pulse race at the same time?
“He came in my ass.”
Those five words echoed in my mind, over and over. He had done what I never could. He had taken her in a way I had always wanted but was never allowed. And she… she had let him. More than that, she had enjoyed it. “It felt really good at the time,” she wrote, as if trying to soften the blow. But there was no softening it. The damage was done.
Afterward, she cleaned up and fell into an exhausted sleep, her body limp and sated. But the story didn’t end there. “Since we had broken the seal, we had sex two more times this weekend.” She promised to send the details later, signing off with a feeble “I love you!” as if those three words could somehow erase everything that had happened.
I stared at the screen, my mind racing, my body torn between arousal and fury. What was I supposed to do with this? Forgive her? Punish her? Demand more details? The choice was mine, but one thing was certain: I was more turned on than I had ever been in my life.
Her email:
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.