Marrying Sherry

SHERRY

(Part 1 with Preamble)

Words for our sexual nature have become established parts of our language. I am cuckold, submissive, sissy, and my wife is hot wife, dominatrix/submissive, slut wife. She loves controlling me but she also loves submitting to real men, bulls, studs. In the time period I'm writing about, we were in our early twenties, which would have been the mid seventies.

My wife and I came of age in the late sixties and early seventies. In the sixties everything traditional was suspect or at least questionable. Young people, largely as a result of the war in Vietnam, were seeing society's hypocrisy, its double standards and its expectations as optional.

We didn't have the internet, so it was difficult to know how strange our sexual longings were or weren't. We didn't have a million sites dedicated to cuckoldry to help us feel normal. Somehow we managed to discover our exceptional compatibility.

Cuckoldry has been around forever, although often portrayed as something put upon a man against his will or without his knowledge. Judging by today's scene, that's probably not true. My main observation of the life style is that with cuckoldry the husband's humiliation, for both partners, can be integral to the heat of the moment.

***

This is the story of a life I could not have imagined. It is the story of Sherry, who became my wife, and me, Henry.

After two months of dating she moved in. By six months I was madly in love. Maybe it was six days, but after six months I was fighting the urge to ask her to marry me. I think she was pretty smitten too.

Sherry is adorable, five foot six, very leggy, perfectly bubbled ass, slender waist and fairly small but really cute breasts. In her younger days her blue eyed face was the epitome of cuteness and framed with dark brown hair. It was layer cut, just past her shoulders, with bangs that made her look younger than her 23 years. I was 24. I'm told I'm a very handsome man, so it's not like we were a mismatch in that area. She was a girl everyone wanted to fuck, and I would come to know that many were.

Between her beauty and my infatuation, rational thought had gone out the window. I was sexually inexperienced and naïve, so I didn't know to wonder about certain things, like how she came to suck cock so well. For all I knew all women were that talented. I was a virgin when we met, a 24 year old virgin.

We both worked, I as a specialized computer system assembler and she as a receptionist/dispatcher for a yard maintenance/landscape company.

One evening we had planned for a movie night at home in our apartment. I decided the time was right. We were sitting close on the couch, and as usual, her casual mini-dress was riding up and exposing her panties. I loved this and wondered if we might have to fuck prior to watching a movie. I decided the proposal needed to come before anything.

I thought I knew her, knew that she would jump at the chance to marry me, but she looked startled when I asked, as if it hadn't occurred to her that I might. She had no planned response and was clearly not comfortable with my question.

"You don't really know anything about me," she non-answered.

"Six months? I know you're nice to me and you seem to like me a lot. We get along. We like doing the same things, like the same movies. I know I'm wildly in love with you."

She turned to face me and looked seriously concerned. "What if we meet someone who knows me from high school?"

Being naïve, I didn't get what she was trying to tell me. "Why would that be a big deal?"

"Imagine having a guy pull you off to the side to tell you that your wife was a huge slut in high school."

I never asked about her past because it didn't matter to me, nor did I think hers was any more provocative than the average modern girl. I had gone to Jefferson High and she attended Westside High. The high schools we attended were about ten miles apart and I knew a couple of the football players from her school. We had attended training camps together. I mustered the courage to ask, "Were you a well known slut?"

"Aren't sluts usually the talk of the town? I think if it was something they voted on for the yearbook, I would have been voted in as the biggest slut, or most likely to spend my life barefoot and pregnant. I fooled them, I'm infertile, but that's another reason not to marry me."

"If we ever want kids we can adopt."

"Look, it's a small world. What happens if my reputation gets back to one of your friends or a family member? I didn't stop after high school. I've been very promiscuous." That gave me pause. I loved her too much to let her past be a deal breaker, but she was making a point I hadn't considered. I remembered something. I looked at her and said, "I knew two brothers who were football players at Westside, Jerry and Jeff..."

"Nelson," she finished my sentence. "I fucked them both at the same time. Are you getting the picture? Let's just enjoy each other. I love you and love that you love me; I'm just not the kind of girl you want to marry. If anyone ever gives you shit about me, feel free to tell them I'm not your girlfriend, we just hang out."

"Or, we could let the past be the past and get married," I said. That's when the painful truth came out.

"At the risk of never seeing you again, it's time to be completely honest. I'm not who you want me to be or who you think I am," she said.

"What does that mean?"

"During the time we've been together I've been seeing other lovers, regular fuck buddies. They don't mean anything to me. I don't love them, I love you. All I can say is that I tried to stop after we got together and I wasn't able to. Like it or not, the slut label fits me. You're a nice guy, you deserve better than that."

We never discussed things like sexual lifestyle. My assumption was that we both wanted monogamy as neither of us had said any different. She had not previously alluded to a lurid past, and certainly not to a lurid present. Had I not been so green I might have read the signs: her cock sucking talent, the way she savored every drop when I came in her mouth and thanked me afterwards, the way she never seemed satiated no matter how many times she came, which only happened through good tongue work, my cock never got her off. I had nothing to compare her to, so I didn't know these things were not the norm.

There was something else too, something that became glaringly obvious in light of her confession. I was constantly catching her looking at other men and smiling when they looked back. Whenever we were in a social setting with several other people, she always managed to end up off to the side, talking to a good looking guy. At least a couple of times I thought she was giving a guy her number, but she would explain that they had a mutual friend and that's whose number she was giving out.

Surprisingly, my suspicions didn't anger me even though jealousy was frequently triggered. I didn't understand it then, but seeing what appeared to be mutual flirtation between her and other men stirred a fantasy that I was too embarrassed to share with her. The longer we were together, the more the fantasy grew. In short, I fantasized about her fucking other men. It became the sole subject of my masturbation fantasies. Looking back, I suspect I never confronted her about flirtatious behavior because it turned me on; it fueled longings that were more powerful than jealousy.

Another sign that Sherry was more sexual than she let on was her attire. Rarely did I see her, at home or out, wear anything other than a skimpy skirt or dress. She hated bras but loved tops made of thin material, the kind that show nipples off. When out at a bar or restaurant I often caught her sitting in a way that would give another man or men a clear view of her crotch. She loved micro-mini hemlines, but unlike other women who appreciated the fashion, she seemed to always have her legs at least slightly parted. I frequently caught glimpses of her panties and knew other men were as well. I would tell myself, They might get to see it, but I get to fuck and lick it.

I noticed she only wore white panties and asked her about it. She said, "You've told me you like seeing my panties, and white panties look more like panties, not a bathing suit bottom or leotard or something." Remembering this conversation made me hard. I realized it wasn't just for me that she did this, and I often caught other men looking lustfully between her legs while their dates had their backs to us.

Nonetheless, I was shocked to hear that she continued to fuck other guys after we were together. The news made me feel slightly nauseous. As far as I knew we had both been monogamous and she had no desire to fuck other guys. It hurt hearing this, but my cock was saluting the flag like it had just heard the best ever version of the Star Spangled Banner. I had never been harder, and remarkably, I was considering that this didn't have to be a deal breaker.

We lived in one of the sprawling cities south of San Francisco, where the towns grow together in one continuous ribbon of development. My mind was racing over possibilities, some pragmatic, some sexual. The last thing I expected that night was to discover Sherry was a slut. Nor could I have imagined finding that out and wanting to marry her even more, but that's exactly what happened.

"Why did you fuck other guys after we got together; am I not good enough for you in bed." My voice was accusatory and pained. My poor ego was bruised.

"No honey, I love fucking you. It's just..."

"Just what?"

"It's just that even though you get me off, what really turns me on is doing slutty things. I never had a boyfriend in high school because I didn't want one and none of the boy's egos could handle my reputation. About a month after we got together I went to a bar for a drink; at least that's what I told myself. As usual I was wearing a really short skirt so in no time I had a cute guy hitting on me. We went to his place and we fucked and since we are supposed to be in a monogamous relationship it felt really dirty, dirtier than just being a single slut and screwing guys. I like to feel dirty. It was the first time I had ever fucked one guy while being in a relationship with another guy. It was hotter than anything I had ever done, even though I hated doing it behind your back. Being that hot, of course it happened again, with that guy and other guys."

That little monologue was the nastiest thing I'd ever heard. At that point I would have agreed to anything to get her to marry me. But I was hurt.

"I can't believe you're telling me this." I wanted to go into the typical egotistical line of questioning: who, how often, and how many before demanding that this behavior end at once. Instead I persisted with my proposal while simultaneously pursuing my fantasy. "What if we got married and I was okay with you fucking other guys."

She grinned, so I knew she liked the idea. "When a guy says that, he really means let's have an open relationship. I'm way too jealous for that. I can't help it. If I didn't love you it wouldn't matter."

You'd have thought that's exactly what I meant, but she was the sole subject and object of my desire. "That's not what I had in mind. I was thinking I would be faithful no matter how many guys you were fucking."

"I'm not that lucky, so I find it very hard to believe."

I stood and took my pants off so she could see the effect our conversation was having on my cock. "I'm hard just thinking about it."

Then she told me a story about the closest she had come to having an actual relationship in high school. She got picked up while hitchhiking by a guy who lived close to her high school. The guy was in his early thirties. He asked if she wanted to go to his place for a drink and since he was cute she said yes. Once there they fucked and the guy was of course turned on to be fucking a teenager (the pervert). Anyway, he made a proposal. He told her she could use his place as a party pad for her and friends as long as she continued to fuck him. What eventually transpired is that she would sometimes be there fucking school buddies when he got home. When that happened, the guys would usually feel uncomfortable and leave. Once gone he would want her too. She said the first time it happened she offered to freshen up, but he said he could do that with his tongue. She said the guy was turned on by licking her used pussy. After telling me the story she said, "You would have to be like that, not just allowing me to be a slut, but enjoying it the way that guy did. That's the only way it would work. I'd have to teach you to love cum."

After that conversation, whenever we had sex she would wait about 20 minutes after I had filled her pussy, long enough for me to get horny again, and push my face between her legs. She wouldn't say anything but the expectation was understood.

When she told me the story about the guy from high school days I connected the dots. Through that guy she found out that it's a turn on for her to have a guy lick her used fuck hole, and an added thrill to have one guy do the filling and another guy the cleaning. When I did it, the mixture of our juices tasted sexy and encouraged my fantasy about licking other men's cum from her. I knew I would be an enthusiastic trainee.

That night Sherry was hell bent on discovering whether or not I could love a slut like her. She crawled on the floor in front of me and grabbed my cock, leaning forward and licking the huge drop of precum off the tip. She looked up at me and asked, "Are you going to mind when a guy dumps a huge load of cum in my mouth, and then I want you to give me a nice tongue kiss in front of him." She was catering to my fantasies. I had already imagined this, and wanted it.

"I think I would love that, and licking your filled up pussy as well."

"This could work," she said, "but I would need proof."

"Of?"

"That you really would enjoy this."

"Let's prove it," I said.

She tapped her fingers on the side of head, attempting to jar loose an idea. "I've got it," she said, and jumped up to get something. She came back with her purse and was rummaging voraciously through it, coming up with a small black book. They really exist, I thought.

"Is that what I think it is?"

"It is iaf you think it's a book full of numbers for fuck buddies. I can't call the ones with a star; they have asked me not to, and probably because they have a wife or girlfriend who is already suspicious or already caught them up to no good."

"Why do you have their number anyway?"

"Because they couldn't resist giving it to me. I've practiced some telemarketer lines in case I call and get a woman's voice, but as a rule I don't call. There's plenty of un-stared numbers."

"Don't you feel bad about screwing another woman's guy?"

"I fantasize that it's the same bitches who gave me a hard time in high school. They never accepted me and I think it's because I dressed hot and their boyfriends were always checking me out. These guys would be getting it on the side anyway. The biggest mistake women make is thinking they can prevent a guy from getting pussy on the side by keeping close track and shit like that. They might slow it down, but that's all. Any woman can bring a man into line if she wants to. You coax the guy's kinks and fantasies out and then make them happen. After that you can send him off to work and make him do the dishes when he gets home, like you're going to do if we get married. At least 2/3 of all men are potentially submissive."

We laughed. I was unconcerned that she might not be kidding about the dishes.

"What's the plan?"

"There's one guy I haven't fucked in a while whose cock is worth seeking. His name's Kenny and he knows about you, they all do. It's been my experience that when a guy knows he's fucking another man's woman, it makes him hotter than ever. I love telling them that they're bigger than you."

"Are they all bigger than me?"

"Would it bother you if I said yes?"

"I think it would just turn me on."

"Without exception. Thicker and longer. Kenny is the thickest. He's only seven inches long; I always get around to measuring guys. I don't have a cloth measuring tape, so I don't know his specific girth; I just know he's the thickest."

"Does it feel that much better when a guy is thick?"

"Yes, but it's also about looking down and seeing your pussy lips get pushed wide open. I'm always proud when I can take a really big cock. It feels slutty."

She had me wanting to see her opened up by this guy. "Do you want me to call him?"

"Only if you still want to marry me."

"What should I say?"

"Tell Kenny who you are, and that I asked you to call to see if he wanted to come over and party with us. You can ad-lib after that."

"Do you think he will?"

"Yes. We used to talk about him fucking me in front of you. He loves the idea."

I was nervous, but I picked up the phone and dialed the number.

"Hi, I'm Sherry Wilson's boyfriend and I'm calling to see if you would like to come over and party with us?"