Is my wife cuckolding me?

I guess my story starts 2 years ago when my wife,
Rebecca, got a 3 day part time job for a company based
in London. It was a wonderful opportunity for her and
it was an exciting time for both of us. However, we
live about 100 miles away from London which made it
very difficult for her to take the job, but eventually
she negotiated a deal where she could work 1 day at
home which meant that, to save her a long, difficult
and early commute, she would spend 1 night a week in
London in a hotel. She was so excited about the job,
we both were, that 1 night away seemed just a small
sacrifice.

So, for almost 6 months, Rebecca spent 2 days in
London and we spent that night apart. For the most
part we were okay about that. I know she used to get
down about being away from home and I did miss her.
But the real truth was that actually I quite looked
forward to that night because it meant that I was free
to do whatever I wanted. And what I wanted to do was
masturbate whilst looking at porn on the internet.

One night a week freedom to surf and wank in complete
comfort. It was great. It was like being a student
again before we met. And I took complete advantage of
it, pretty much to the point that for a couple of days
afterwards I was so warn out that I couldn’t get it
up. But I used to cover this up quite easily with all
sorts of excuses and she never really noticed.

However, she did notice the photos of me dressed up in
her clothes when, purely by random chance, she
happened to be going through some pictures on my
phone. I still can’t believe how foolish I was. I have
always had a thing about dressing up in women’s
clothes. Ever since I was 13 I would dress up in my
mum’s clothes – underwear, dresses, skirts and
blouses. It just felt like a very natural thing. But
was definitely something I never shared with anyone
and I gave it up once Rebecca and I got together. With
this new found freedom once a week I was spending a
lot of my time online dressed up in Rebecca’s clothes.

God, it was great. It was so sexy. It also led me to
have a lot of online chats with men and I found myself
really getting into the whole role of being a
cocksucking submissive slut. And so that is what led
me to take these photos – so I could send them to this
guy who wanted to see me all dressed up. What I forgot
to do was to delete the photos.

When she found them all hell broke loose. She wanted
to know what the hell I was doing, why I was dressing
up in her clothes, when I had started, was I seeing
someone, was I gay? It almost ended us. It was that
close. I told her that it was a one off thing and I
confessed to her that I used to do it as a kid and it
was a curiosity thing. Which in a way was true. And
no, I wasn’t gay, which again, basically was true. And
that just about got us through it. She told me that
she could never cope with me if I was someone who
dressed up like that. She told me very clearly that
the reason she was with me was because I was a real
man and that is what turned her on.

The next few months were quite terrible. She was
angry, suspicious, and almost vicious. It took weeks
and weeks for me to rebuild any trust she had in me.
The clothes I dressed in for the pictures were thrown
away and every night she was away I basically was
babysat – I couldn’t be alone. But, as time went on
our relationship moved back to where it had been.
Although I made sure I never dressed up again.

A few months later Rebecca said that she had found a
cheaper rate at a different hotel, which was great as
the hotel bill ate into her wages. It was a good third
off. She said that there was someone at work who also
had to stay over several nights each week and he had a
regular rate at this hotel and he was happy for her to
use his login to book a room for herself.

I told her what a great thing it was, knowing it meant
more money for her. Not only that, because he was at
the hotel too he could give her a lift to and from
work which also saved her the extra parking bill too.
And I never once ever considered that this was
anything other than a genuine favour from one
colleague to another. It was exactly the sort of thing
I would offer someone, be they male or female, just to
help them out. She even asked me if I thought it was a
good idea and I told her emphatically yes.

So life continued as normal. She stayed at this new
hotel, and I spent the night wanking on the internet
and we both waited several days before I could finally
get it up long enough for us to make love. Meanwhile
my online cocksucking sissy chat had led me to some
cuckolding sites, but I certainly never thought for a
moment that Rebecca would cheat on me. Never. It was
inconceivable.

I was reading all these stories about cuckolding,
about hot wives, cheating wives, dominant wives and
about their husbands. Their weak husbands, under
endowed, submissive, cross-dressing, sissy,
cocksucking husbands that didn’t satisfy their wives.
And wow! How I loved those stories. They were
exciting, taboo and so close to my own life. Except,
of course, for the bit about cheating. Rebecca would
never cheat on me.

Why would I worry? She would hold me as we lay in bed
and say to me that she didn’t want me to leave her, to
sleep with another woman. I thought it was a lingering
doubt from the revelation of me dressing up, that she
just didn’t want to lose me.

And the time she took getting ready for going away for
those 2 days. It just seemed a natural thing to do.
She would spend at least two hours getting ready to go
the night before. A shower, shaved legs, moisturiser,
the works. And the clothes she took, I didn’t really
pay attention to what she was taking with her even
though sometimes she would ask me about this outfit or
that outfit – all of which were nice and flattering. I
supported her in wanting to look good at work. She was
my wife and I was proud of her gorgeous looks. And I
told her that, often.

And the one time there was an opportunity for me to
stay up in London with her it never occurred to me to
suspect any ulterior motive for her to suggest that we
stay at a slightly better hotel for that week. It all
just seemed so natural.

Until one day I was chatting to an old girlfriend I
had met online and I was telling her about my married
life and about how my week worked. And also how I had
been caught dressing up too. Everything. So when Liz
started laughing and couldn’t stop I just couldn’t
work out what I had said. And she couldn’t understand
why I couldn’t see it, how it was staring me straight
in the face. That my wife was having an affair.

Well I couldn’t believe it. There was no way! Until my
friend started pointing it all out to me. The man in
the same hotel. So? They were just work colleagues.
How could it be anything else? Yes, they stayed in the
same hotel, shared lifts… even shared dinner
together… like a couple. The getting ready, had it
always been like that? Well no, but really it wasn’t
that unusual was it? Liz asked if we had a lot of sex
and I confessed to her about my indulgence each week
and the unfortunate consequences. And again it took at
least 5 minutes for her to stop laughing.

Was I stupid? Was I blind? So how was it now? Did we
have a lot of sex? Well, no. not even at the weekends,
which I was relieved about in a way because of my
paranoia about getting it up after my excesses. The
conversation kind of descended into a constant stream
of LMFAO.

I wasn’t convinced, it was just all coincidence. But I
now had a small doubt. The next week I rang her at the
hotel on her phone. It was about 10pm and usually she
phones me to say goodnight but I thought I would do it
this time. The phone rang and rang and just before it
went to voice mail she answered. She was surprised. I
told her I was thinking of getting an early night. She
told me she was too. I asked if she was ok. She
sounded a little…. off? distracted? defensive? She
was fine, just tired. I told her I loved her. She said
“Me too”. We said our goodnights. And I couldn’t see
anything really wrong with any of it. Could I?

The next day, when she got home, I took my boldest
step yet and I went through the wash hamper after she
had unpacked. As I thought, there was no cum-stained
panties. But there was a pair of stockings and she
rarely wore stockings. Although the new dress she
bought a few weeks ago, well that needed some sort of
hose. And sure enough that short dress was also in the
hamper. Although I couldn’t work out… was that what
she wore at work. I thought she had worn another
outfit going and she was wearing the same outfit she
came back in. I think.

We lay in bed that night and cuddled. And I got more
affectionate and started to touch her, but she put her
hand on mine. She was tired after all the travelling
yesterday. Did I really want to? She put her hand on
my cock. Maybe we should wait, maybe I was tired too?
She squeezed me cock a little. It did feel a little
soft. I agreed even though I hadn’t chatted online the
night before. I asked her about her night. It was
okay, quiet. Did you have dinner with Mike? Yes, and
talked about work. Same old same old. You slept well?
Yes, but still very tired. Let’s get some sleep.

So this is where I am currently. My friend is totally
convinced Rebecca is having an affair. I haven’t got
any proof. Nothing. I have even looked on her phone
and in her emails. Nothing. But each week the
stockings go up with her. She does have some nice
underwear now. And I do see it every now and again,
but it equally goes up to London with her just as
regularly. My online chats are all cuckolding now. My
fantasies of being dressed up in that dress and those
stockings and being on my knees sucking Mike’s cock
are getting more and more intense.

I constantly see Rebecca as the dominant one in our
relationship now and in some ways it is true. I give
in to her more easily now and bend over backwards to
please her. All the while imagining her bending over
backwards with her legs spread and Mike’s cock
ploughing her pussy. Stupid cocksucking sissy husband.
She wants a real man. To give her the fucking she
needs. Each and every week. Fucking her deep and hard.
Like she needs. Like she deserves. My darling wife.

It’s not true, right? Just my imagination. Just a
coincidence. Just a fantasy. Right?