Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
I nod in agreement. This is what I’ve been dying to tell Savannah. We’ve tried to rehash the night she found the messages over and over again, never getting very far but deep enough that it felt like we were constantly treading in it like a water-filled crater.
It’s time to either sink or finally escape its dark depths.
“For as long as I can remember, and we’ve been together a very long time, I’ve had a fantasy of watching Savannah have sex with another man,” I say blatantly and unashamed. I’m speaking to Doc, and I feel no embarrassment or insolence for the desires I have for my own wife while I’m disclosing them to the man. But I’m sure the feeling would be different if I were saying them directly to Savannah. Not because I’m ashamed of them, but because I know she doesn’t understand them, and I don’t want to upset her that way. The person she is, she will believe there is something wrong with her for not “getting” the fantasies I have, when all others would be the opposite, finding me to be the one with the fucked-up perspective.
I’m neutral, one foot on either side of the line. I have no idea if this need in me is “normal” or completely unnatural.
“I believe Savannah is under the impression that the only reason you offered for her to sleep with another man is to… balance the scale, if you will,” Doc says—something I already knew but never got the chance to correct before she’d get so upset and shut me out.
“I’m aware that’s what she’s allowed herself to believe, but it’s actually backward to what really happened. The truth is, I knew she’d never agree to cuckolding, so when the desires wouldn’t go away no matter what other kinks we explored, that’s when I got the idiotic idea to… roleplay, I guess you’d call it. I roleplayed with myself. This other woman was to portray Savannah, and I’d get to pretend I was watching my wife get fucked by another man,” I explain, and this time Savannah does try to pull her hand from mine. I don’t allow it, tightening my fingers around hers, but I do let her lean away from me, against the arm of the couch instead of my shoulder.
Doc says, “So if that was your intent, that means you never would have touched the other woman. It was purely voyeuristic, not physical.”
“And it went terribly wrong and never should’ve happened in the first place,” I add.
Savannah’s choked whisper slices through my heart. “She… she said you’d see each other again. When…?” Her bottom lip trembles, and she looks down into her lap, unable to continue her question, but I know what she’s asking, and I’m proud she got even that much out.
“I met her and her husband for lunch one day. They were an exhibitionist couple who wanted to be watched. We met in person to discuss how we’d make it work so that both our fantasies could be fulfilled. Their kink, and what you read in those messages, is he likes to punish her when he catches her ‘cheating,’ enjoys re-marking his territory, per se. She gets off on texting with other men, so… well… they’re the perfect match for each other. I thought by helping them satisfy their fetish as the fake ‘other man,’ I too would satisfy the dark desire I had. But it didn’t work. No matter how much I texted them, no matter how much I tried to pretend I was sending those messages to Savannah and receiving the videos of the other couple fucking, it didn’t even come close to what I imagine the reality would be like. It was all for nothing.”
At some point during my explanation, I’d turned from speaking to my wife to Doc instead. Probably my subconscious wanting answers from the man who seems to be all-knowing when it comes to the psychology of sex.
But her whimpered “Videos? You… you watched videos of this woman?” pulls my eyes back to Savannah. The pure agony in her tone cracks my heart wide-open, knowing I’m the one who has caused her all this unnecessary pain.
I place my other hand on top of hers, pulling it to my chest as my voice turns pleading. “I did, baby. At least, I tried to. But when it wasn’t working the way I’d hoped, when it did nothing to satisfy this… sick obsession, I stopped bothering to even open the videos. I still texted with them, but it was completely meaningless. It was purely to keep my end of the arrangement.”
She narrows her eyes on me again. “If it was doing nothing for you, then why did you feel the need to even keep your end of the arrangement? You must’ve enjoyed talking to her at least a little to keep doing it. After all, the messages I found on New Year’s were hidden under a man’s name. And you were taking time out of our night, which you know is my favorite holiday, to tell her you were looking around the crowd, wishing you’d see her fucking whore face!”