Firstly I want to clear, I am a guy, bi curious, and this confession/story is regarding how the cuckold/Stag&Vixen Journey started for us.
I am strictly not looking for people to meet from here or in that case any online platform.
We meet them in real life, in a practical flow. I welcome everyone for chats and discussion, just don’t hope we will catch up someday.
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Here it goes 🙂
We were on a break.
Not in a bitter, angry way, but in that messy, undefined way couples sometimes drift when things get complicated. I still loved her, Rushi, but we had taken some space. I tried to focus on work, on gym, on just… existing without the daily touch of her presence. But even in that space, I’d check her stories, glance at her texts, wonder if she missed me the way I missed her.
That Saturday night, she was out with her college friend Nisha. I saw her Instagram story just one post. A dim-lit pub, some music, and a boomerang of two clinking glasses. But what caught me was her dress.
Rushi was wearing this dangerously short, wine-colored one-piece that hugged her thick thighs like a second skin. It dipped just enough in the front to show the deep curve of her cleavage, and slit just enough at the side to make anyone’s imagination run wild. She was glowing….hair straight, lips a deep crimson, and that teasing smile that made her look innocent and dirty at the same time.
I tried not to overthink it. We were on a break, after all.
But around 4 AM, my phone buzzed.
Rushi calling…
I stared at the screen. A part of me hesitated to pick up, unsure if I was ready to hear her voice. But I did. And I’ll never forget what followed.
Her voice was low, almost shaky, like she had something heavy to confess. And she did.
“Baby…” she said. “He just left. I need to tell you something.”
There was a pause. My stomach tightened.
“I met this guy at the pub. His name’s Arjun. He was… married. But we talked a lot, danced a little. He was hot, confident, older. He asked if I lived nearby. And I said yes. I brought him here.”
I went quiet. My heart was thumping, but not in the way I expected. There was no anger. There was something else. Something darker. Hotter.
She continued, her tone softer now, almost teasing.
“I couldn’t help it. I wanted to feel wanted. I wanted him to see how sexy I looked in that dress. His eyes were locked on my thighs the whole time. And when we came home…” She breathed out slowly. “I let him taste everything.”
She told me everything. The way he pushed her against the wall the moment they entered. The way her dress slid up her hips, and how he bent her over the edge of the bed while pulling her panties down. How his wedding ring glinted in the moonlight as he gripped her thick hips, thrusting into her from behind.
She described every moan, every slap, every kiss. Her words made my cock harden unbearably. I didn’t even realize I had started stroking myself while listening to her.
“I thought you’d hate me,” she whispered.
But I didn’t. I couldn’t.
Instead, I said something that surprised us both.
“Tell me more… every detail.”
And just like that, it began.
The kink. The surrender. The thrill of knowing my woman was out there, living wild desires, and that she wanted me to know. Wanted to make me feel it all.
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