My husbands dick turned into a sperm foutain when I told him..

My husbands dick turned into a sperm foutain when I told him Jake and I were now officially a couple. Truly kinky bastard. Both of us.

And, at the same time, NJ-Tony asked me this question. "Love the tits clit muscles but this shit you do to your husband is to much Im out. No woman who loves her man would treat him bad like that. Why do you even stay married?"

Truthfully, I've been wrestling with why I've let my husband slip into this role of a casual friend, someone I share a home with but don't give my body or deepest feelings to anymore. Key word. It's a role. It is the part he plays in our admittedly whacked sexual kink which has turned into a lifestyle. Look, I never intended to take things this far, and I don't blame myself—not entirely. He started this early on before we got married. He was the one who brought up cuckolding, his eyes lighting up when he talked about me being with other men. He nudged me into it, and it didn't take much because I was already a massive fan of it. I stepped away from it for many years. Again, admittedly, it ruined two marriages. But Scott was unfazed and pushed on, and like a drug, once I tasted it again, I was hooked harder than I have ever been. I'm addicted to the feeling of another man's cock—in my hand, in my mouth, inside me. It's a rush that hits me like a train. Again, Scott begged me for this life, so it's also not my fault I caught feelings and developed deep connections with other men, feelings that overtake what I feel for my husband now. Scott knew this was a risk, but pushed for it anyway. But I know these emotions, these intense desires, aren't the whole truth—they're a response to this kink, this addiction that's taken over my life.

When I'm with another man, everything else fades away. Their hands on me make me feel alive, wanted in a way that feels electric. I love guiding them inside me, feeling that stretch, that perfect fullness, the way it makes me beg for more. I lose myself when their cock hits just right, making me moan their name like it's all I know. But it's not just the physical—it's the emotional pull. The way they look at me like I'm their world, the way they make me laugh, the way I feel so free with them. I didn't plan to let those feelings grow so big, overshadow what I have with my husband, but they did. I'm caught up in these men, and I love them more than him in those moments. Yet, I know it's not real—not entirely. It's this kink twisting me, making me want someone else more, but somehow, it only makes me love my husband deeper because he's in this with me, sharing this addiction.

Telling my husband about it is where it gets intense, and me telling you makes some people uncomfortable. I don't hold back—I lay it all out. I describe how another man kissed me, their tongue teasing mine, making me dizzy. I tell him how they kissed down my body, sucking and nibbling, making me squirm. I talk about how I opened my legs for them, how their cock felt so perfect, how I came so hard I couldn't think straight. And I go deeper—I tell him how I feel about these men, how I think about them constantly, how I love them in this overwhelming way that feels bigger than what I feel for him. I see it hit him, the way his face shifts, and it's a powerful rush. Don't get me wrong, It's not about hurting him. It's about this power, this thrill of being so raw. The most exhilarating yet perplexing part for me and other people is when I'm telling him I love another man more than him, I see him get hard. His erection is right there, undeniable, and it's so confusing for both of us, but so exciting. My words, my truth about choosing someone else over him, are turning him on, and it sends this jolt through me. It's like I'm breaking him and lifting him up all at once, and it messes with my head in the best way.

I get that these feelings, this lifestyle, it's not the whole picture. It's like I'm caught in this haze where I want another man more than my husband, where I feel these crazy, deep emotions for them, but it's all tied to this kink. It's not reality—it's my addiction playing tricks on me. But that confusion, that intensity, it's what makes this so thrilling. And the fact that my husband is right there with me, letting me chase this, getting hard when I tell him I love someone else, makes me love him more. Not less, but more. Because he's part of this, he's letting me live this out, which binds us in an unbreakable way I can't explain. I'm addicted, and it's messy, but it's ours, and I'm not sorry for it. My husband's hard dick seems to feel the same way.