My husband sits in the corner. That is his place, and we both know it. He does not touch himself unless I say so. He does not speak unless I ask him a question. He watches. That is what he is for.
Last weekend I brought someone home. Taller than my husband. Broader. The kind of man who does not ask permission because he can see in my eyes that I have already decided. I made my husband sit in the armchair by the window, and I did not tie him up. I did not have to. He would not dare move without my say so.
I started slow, the way I like. I let the other man kiss my neck while my husband watched my face change. I let him slide my dress off my shoulders while my husband gripped the arms of that chair so hard I thought he might break them. Every sound I made, I made louder on purpose. I wanted my husband to hear exactly what he cannot give me.
When the other man bent me over the bed, I looked right at my husband. I held his eyes while I got fucked harder than he has ever managed, and I smiled. Not a kind smile. The smile of a woman who knows exactly what she is doing to the man who loves her, and loves doing it. My husband was crying by the end. Not sad tears. Grateful ones. He thanked me afterward. He always thanks me.
That is what a real cuckold marriage looks like, baby. It is not about humiliating some poor man for fun, though I do enjoy that too. It is about a wife who takes what she wants and a husband who worships her for it. If this is the dynamic that gets you hard, you already know you need to read more about cuckold phone sex. And when you are ready to tell me about your own little situation at home, find me on the live girls page and text the dispatcher. Tell them Chanel, tell them how many minutes, tell them if you are new. They will call you right back, and I will decide what happens next.
Signed, Chanel