When Fantasy and Reality Collide

Life took something of a weird left turn last year, with a pair of huge relationship changes derailing . . . well, pretty much all my plans.

Without going into too much detail here, things went south with my long-term girlfriend over the summer. Yes, the same girlfriend I shared a gloryhole first date with, and who seemed so understanding and supportive of my unique take on cuckolding.

[image error]For a good six months, I had a hard time looking at photos like these. The fantasy still appealed, but the reality of how she betrayed our cuckolding arrangement still stung. I had to wait until I could appreciate such scenes again before writing about how I came to leave her and move in with Mistress. With the first 5,000 words of the new book written and edited, detailing how and why things ended between us, I feel like there’s closure on that relationship, and I am genuinely excited to be introducing the other.

Originally, Mistress was to get her own book. I was going to alternate between the stories of my relationships, exploring how my fetishes clash and complement one another. That was still the plan, even after the cuckolding relationship went south, but Mistress had other plans. With the next 1000 words of the new book written, detailing how I came to be her collared submissive, I realize why Mistress made me wait before writing it. What I have learned from her about myself and the parallels between my relationships has helped me to shape a much stronger, and far deeper story. One of the things she made me realize (and this completely blew my mind) is that cuckold cleanup duties are as much like BDSM aftercare as they are BDSM submission. She explains it far better than I ever could, and that conversation is in the new book.

[image error]On a closing note, one of the biggest surprises to come out of my new relationship was just how much I have come to enjoy ass worship. It was always a taboo for me. It was a huge (and, I now know, entirely selfish) inhibition to overcome. Making that mental leap from seeing her chocolate rosebud as waste receptacle to appreciating it as a sexual organ was difficult . . .  and stupid. Mistress was persistent but patient, as she is in all things, but she eventually sat herself down on my face and reminded me that all our sexual (and sexualized) organs serve a dual purpose. It is what we do with them, how we care for them, that makes all the difference.

So, in closing, I am back writing again, and this time Mistress approves of the direction I’ve taken. I do have some more fictional tales I want to capture but, as far as my core story is concerned, there will be no fantasy, no hiding, and no excuses for my behavior . . . just the facts of how I came to be Mistress’ live-in cuckold, what my role involves, why we are so unique together, and what she’s taught me about my own sexuality.

Thank you, all of you, for your patience and understanding.