Cabin Affairs

Step 1. Setup Navigation Playlist: "Feelin' Way Too Damn Good" by Nickelback "I had no choice but to kill him!" I scream out to no one as I adjust my vehicle's speed on the desolate back road. The damned rabbit who ran in front of my car had a death wish. There was no swerve or maneuver of any kind that would have saved his life. At least, that's the lie I tell myself in a hopeless endeavor to relieve my guilty conscience. Had I been paying more attention to the road than my own thoughts, however, things might have been different. Still, I blink away tears as my heart sinks, dwelling on its flattened, crushed little body, now a corpse left on the side of the road for a carrion eater to call dinner. I don't relish being the cause of death for any innocent life. It's amazing how our innate human selfishness can lead to destruction, even on a superficial level. So why am I driving to a hunting cabin of all places? The irony is palpable. I am going to meet a man. A man who isn't my husband, at the request of my husband. Confusing, right? Having recently celebrated our tenth wedding anniversary, it is safe to say my husband and I know each other very well. We have always strived for, and been successful, at great communication. This especially applies to our escapades in the bedroom. My husband reads my body better than I do the flimsy paperback on my nightstand that gets more dog-eared with each passing year. In turn, I can have him forget his own name from start to finish in five minutes flat. Now, when you have a healthy and respectful s*x life with the same partner for over a decade, you are bound to become explorers. Like Lewis and Clark, together you embark on a mission to see sights never seen, hear words never before uttered, and even document the journey from time to time. For some couples, that may also mean encountering natives and their… culture, that you have not met or experienced before. That is how it has been for us. My husband indulged many of my s****l fantasies over the years. The straps hidden under the mattress of our bed are proof enough of that. Likewise, I have been benevolent. Two drawers in my dresser could provide such evidence as they are filled with lingerie, costumes, and various toys. The biggest difference between our adventures and that of said explorers, Lewis and Clark, would be the companions they met along the way. What I mean to say is, we have never had another person, of any gender, become a part of our s****l journey. That is not to say that the thought does not excite each of us, but rather that the appropriate situation has never arisen. Well, until now. I recently discovered that my husband has a cuckolding kink. He wants to see me with another man, both giving and receiving pleasure. He isn't interested in participating, at least not right away, but rather watching from afar. While at first I found the whole idea more than a bit odd, research assured me that it is actually an incredibly common male fetish. There is a wide spectrum of ways this can be done by couples. However, in real life, this scenario requires some actual thought to be put into the arrangement. One thing must be fully understood. My husband is by no means submissive. Nor does he desire to be mocked or demeaned in the process, which can be common with this particular fetish. That is not his personality. He simply says that he is addicted to watching me orgasm, and therefore wants to watch what it looks like when someone else gives it to me. "See if they are up to the challenge," he joked. My Matthew always loved a good challenge… So what is the fascination here? The term cuckold is a relic from the Medieval era, usually referring to a man whose wife has stepped outside of their marriage. In this aged definition, the man was thought to be weak, unable to satisfy the woman in his life, or at the very least control her. None of that can be said of my husband. His muscular six-foot frame oozes masculinity, and his dark smile is what most women would enthusiastically refer to as panty dropping. In each session together, I climax a handful of times before he is willingly satisfied. It must be made clear here and now that I have no reason to look outside our marriage bed. Except for one. He asked me to. Immediately upon hearing his wish, I grew suspicious. Why? Why did he want this? It took months before I was convinced it wasn't some long con to be with another woman he might have had his eye on. Plenty of women at his firm and elsewhere would gladly throw themselves at my husband. Was he trying to damage our supposed happy marriage by adding additional parties? Was he secretly bored with me after all these years? Apparently, that had nothing to do with it. It was just a taboo that he wanted to explore, and he trusted me enough to communicate it. I am convinced of his love, and his honesty alone was endearing. Still, this new revelation of his begged more questions. Was the socially deviant excitement all there was to this proclivity? The same as s*x in a public place, for example. Nope. There is so much more to this kink than I could ever have imagined. Firstly, you need to learn the term candaulism, which means that a man enjoys knowing that another covets what is his. There is a distinct pride associated with showing off what belongs to him, or in this case, who belongs to him. A man can be turned on by sharing his wife, but only under circumstances he deems fit, thus remaining dominant in the scenario. My husband is the epitome of dominance. He is in charge all day at work, and often in our bedroom, much to my joy. Many men might use cuckolding as a way to escape the demands of always needing to be in control. I can completely understand how nice it is for someone else to take the reins for a while. After all, I enjoy playing the submissive for my husband most nights. Yet, he suggested that allowing another man to appreciate his wife, and then reclaiming her afterwards, was his ultimate act of dominance. He wanted me to be able to compare his prowess to someone else, hoping for confirmation that he would come out on top. Of his winning any such competition, I had no doubt. In the course of those months of research and thorough discussion, I could not believe how common this fantasy actually is among men. I read an online study of over 4,000 men wherein fifty-eight percent were thrilled by the idea of their partner being with another man. Over half, for one reason or another, relished the competitive nature of sharing their woman. Absolutely astounding, right? So how does that all lead me down this southern back road towards a hunting cabin? For that, you must start to understand logistics. I was adamant that by attempting this, no other person should be allowed in our literal marriage bed, however figuratively they would. After all, life continues when the thrill subsides. John Mellencamp's Jack and Diane should have taught us all that lesson long ago. Thus, no one was to come back to our home. Furthermore, the man I slept with would need to have some very specific qualifications. Obviously, a clean bill of health was non-negotiable. Birth control was not an issue as I was on the pill, but neither Matthew nor myself would risk any spread of disease to me. My husband has always been very protective of me, and by extension, my well-being. His ability to attune to my needs is just another reason I am so lucky to call him mine. I also needed to be physically attracted to him because the entire point was for the mutual pleasure of all parties involved. How many truly attractive men do you find in their thirties or early forties nowadays, anyway? Let me assure you, there are not so many fish that glitter in my sea. Fewer who are available as well. Last and most importantly, I had to feel comfortable and safe. This significantly narrowed the already slim-to-none prospects. Going to pick up someone at a bar was completely off the table. Matthew flat out refused to put my safety in the hands of a stranger, which I was naturally grateful he never suggested. Needless to say, few candidates were left standing. Enter Eric, my long-time childhood friend, who happens to be drop dead gorgeous. When my husband suggested his name, I must have turned the deepest shade of scarlet. If my flushed cheeks and weak knees gave him pause, Matthew said nothing. It took weeks for me to screw up enough courage to admit to my husband that Eric was my first and longest crush. While we had never dated, I had always wanted to. I assumed that would put an end to Matthew’s suggestion, yet again, my husband surprised me. "All the better, then," Matthew responded. "If you've always wanted to f**k him, then this is as much your fantasy as it is mine. There’s no acting required of you in any videos you send me. Besides, I've seen you two together over the years. I know he's into you, too." I was shocked, floored, stunned. His comments threw me through a loop. Eric was a viable option. And it just so happened that he was also currently single. Although, I doubted he had ever been interested in me. Matthew sounded so completely confident. One major question swirled in my mind until I couldn't take it any longer. I pushed my insecurities to the back burner and focused on the question that begged to be asked. "Won't you get jealous of my being with someone else? Especially someone I have a connection with?" Matthew's hazel eyes burned into mine. The flecks of gold around his pupils danced in the light. His hard, dominant voice asked in a deeply serious tone that reverberated through his chest, "Let's say you spend a few days together. What happens afterward?" Was that a trick question? I felt hesitant only out of my fear of sounding foolish with such an obvious answer. My voice came out small. "I pack up and go home." "Exactly. You come home. To me. Always." Relief flooded through my body, and I smiled. Our relationship was the best thing in my life. I wouldn't do anything that would chip away at that. Moreover, my husband was the most secure man I'd ever met. His natural confidence was innate, never wavering since I met him. Years of hard work and financial success had only added to that. In fact, his ego could probably afford to be taken down a notch, though I refused to be the one to do it. All these thoughts culminated in my mind, allowing me to truly consider sleeping with my best friend. Since I had not said a word, he c****d one brow upwards in question. "Is there any reason at all that you wouldn't come home?" I understood what he was asking. Was there any reason I would not want to return to my life with him? All hesitancy was now gone from my voice. I answered quickly and honestly. "No, baby. I always want to come home to you." We made love that night until I had to beg him to stop, my legs a sore tangle of mush from the strain of toe-curling orgasms. It wasn’t our usual hard session. Instead, it was sweet, passionate, and enduring. Matthew had convinced me. But I wasn’t the only one who would need convincing. Eric and I had always been flirty in text messages, so first I amped it up a bit. I seriously doubted Matthew's insistence that Eric was indeed attracted to me as more than a friend all these years. So imagine my surprise when he responded to every sexy text in kind. A charged exchange evolved over the next month into a flurry of innuendos, then graphic scenarios, and eventually risqué photos, taken by my husband. Finally, the moment came when Matthew prodded me into asking Eric for a real-life liaison. I was leaning against my husband's broad, bare chest, hands shaking uncontrollably, when I sent the damning text. After ten minutes, I had drowned another glass of red wine, and Matthew was doing his best to calm me down. Blood pounded at my temples and unshed tears stung at the corners of my eyes as I honestly believed I had just ruined one of the best friendships of my life. Eric: Does Matthew know? When I received that text, I frantically typed back, assuring Eric that I was in no way cheating on my husband, and everything I had alluded to over the past month was accurate. I had my husband's permission to have s*x with him. Out of either an abundance of caution or skepticism, Eric texted my husband's phone next. They had never gotten too close over the years, but had each other's contact information nevertheless for emergencies or random sports related texts. Eric: Is this real, man? Matthew affirmed that he was definitely aware and trusted both of us. He even admitted that it was his idea. Matthew: Basically, it comes down to this, man. As long as she is safe and happy, then it can be as real as you want it to be. It was another hour before Eric responded to either of us. Matthew had managed to keep my panic attack at bay during that time. Seeing my precarious state, he nearly called it off right there. He hated watching me stress about something that was supposed to add fun to our lives. Our s*x life has always been a source of joy and relief. That shouldn’t change with one fantasy made real. And he didn't want me to lose a friend that so clearly meant a lot to me. Yet, Eric did reply. Exactly one hour after Matthew’s response, his message was sent in duplicate to both my husband and myself, and it was lengthy. The text didn't ask any more questions, though. Eric was always a decisive man of action. Instead, there were directions to a hunting cabin and a list of possible dates to choose from. This week was one of them.