A Cuck's Journal

You know what she said?

That it was just a button. She said the damage wasn't as severe as I was pointing it out to be.

I asked her why it took so long for her to come out then, and she explained that Cathy asked them to leave the room so she could take more pictures in her wedding dress. It wasn't exactly an uncommon desire, considering it was such a heavy dress most brides will probably never wear again.

So they respected her decision and left her with the photographers.

They hadn't anticipated it would take her more than an hour, though. When they eventually found Cathy, a button was missing from her dress. They promptly called the seamstress, and she fixed it up in just a minute.

The story she told me was completely different from the one I knew — the one my wife narrated during that phone call.

I walked home with a gnawing feeling in my gut. She lied to me. Or maybe she lied to them.

Regardless, Cathy was clearly crying when I called her. She was... moaning. In distress. Over her own dress. She told me they were handling it.

Why would she lie about that?

Judging by the timeframe, her friends had already left the room when I called, apart from the photographers.

Apart from Jasper.

I offered to help and she refused. Why wouldn't she want me, her husband, there?

Cathy came out to the reception with her eyes puffy and swollen from crying, but I've never seen her look like that in any of our wedding photos prior to the reception. The photographers should've captured some if she had really asked for more pictures before changing to her reception dress.

Why did my dutiful wife lie?

And where was she then — if not fixing her dress, or getting photographed for the wedding?

I should've realized it sooner. The holes in this massive web of stories.

When they found her, she was already dressed in her reception gown. Who the fuck was with her when she was changing into them?

If her friend was telling the truth...

I took some sleeping pills to force my body to sleep, but as I'm writing this entry, I realized nothing could ever actually alleviate the root of my fears.

Only one thing probably can. The truth.

___________________________

[ April 20, 2018 ]

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I steeled myself to confront her when she arrived, but as soon as I saw her, my resolve vanished.

I'm scared to find out.

___________________________

[ May 4, 2018 ]

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I've been having nonstop dreams of intertwined bodies — my wife and a guy I should've been wary of.

Cathy was currently taking a break from modeling. Ever since she got back, her silhouette never left my eyes — even at night.

We proceeded like nothing happened. I felt the rare semblance of warmth in my heart again. We ate breakfast together. We cuddled. We watched a movie.

Some part of me thought that maybe I should just forget about this and start over. She probably had a good reason, right? Let's just turn a blind eye and drown in this happiness forever.

But then what? What would happen then?

It was only a matter of time before she went back to work. Can I live with that? ___________________________

[ May 8, 2017 ]

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The world confirmed it for me — I can't.

She finally went back to work. As soon as she stepped out of the house, my brain started to break and concoct these weird delusions.

The thought of her being with someone, doing god knows what in her workplace, is really, really fucking me up.

In an crazed impulse, I bought multiple cameras and secretly set them up all over the house.

Subsequently, I carefully devised a plan and lied about going to the office for work this week — from 8 to 5:45 a.m.

The truth?

I was going to stay in a nearby hotel, watching the version of Cathy that's free from my observation.

___________________________

[ May 9, 2017 ]

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I stared at the screen the whole day before returning home at the sight of her cooking dinner.

Nothing happened, but I'm tired.

___________________________

[ May 10, 2017 ]

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I stared at the screen for hours again, slowly starting to question my sanity until Cathy got home much earlier than usual. With the camera I set up behind our inconspicuous plant, I saw her enter the door, weirdly holding a jacket over her skirt. Her skin was flushed too. The next second, a man behind her comes in and smacks her butt loudly.

"Anyone home?" he yells. I see her coyly elbow him for his antics.

He shrugged it off before smirking at her.

"Guess not. So where are we doing this?"

She answers. And I wish I was dreaming.

___________________________

[ May 11, 2018 ]

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They did it in the house again. This time, in our living room.

Right on our coffee table, actually. It's where I safely kept our photo albums. They fucked each other senseless while browsing through it.

___________________________

[ May 12, 2018 ]

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She's getting sloppier. There are times when catch her texting him even when I'm right there. Honestly, I don't even know what hurts more at this point — her actual affair, or her indifference to the risk of being possibly discovered and losing me.

___________________________

[ May 13, 2018 ]

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"How's this big cock feel, bitch? Which one is better?"

"Fuck me. Oooh, fuck...! Fuck! You're hitting it all the way to the baaaack! It feels amazing, Jas! You're amazing! S-shit! Oh, fuck...."

"Answer, bitch!" he grunted, smacking her ass loud enough to echo through our walls.

"Y-you! You're bigger, all right? I looove your big c-cock more! I love h-him, but I'll always be yours! I'm your sluuuuuut. Are you happy? 'Cause I mean it, baby! I mean every fucking word — Oh, my God! Your dick is... ungh, the best! Fuck me in this bed, stud. Yes! Fuck me where he used to fuck me! Oh, god. Yes! Yes! Here it comes — oh, yeah! S-shiiit...! My pussy's cumming! I'm cumming so h-hard from coooock....! I'm gonna cum, baby — fuck, yes! I'm gonna cum all over his pilloooows...!"

That was a recording of my wife. This time, they did it on our marital bed.

The camera I had set up inside our bedroom was on the floor, pointed upwards. Since we had mirror ceilings, it reflected everything in the room for me to see.

I quietly watched from the hotel all the fucked up things they did. Taking cocaine straight up their nose before fucking each other like rabbits in various positions I've never even thought of.

I didn't even know my wife took drugs. She looked like an entirely different person.

How could she not? She's never even shown me half of this enthusiasm.

I've never made her sound even remotely like this. I've certainly never given her lewd body enough pleasure that she would snort coke — a psychedelic far more powerful than any gateway drug — to better compliment it.

Like a whore, her professionally done make-up was smudged all over her face. I could see it clearly because for the most part, they did it on missionary. And so Cathy, with her arms wrapped around Jasper's neck, looked at the ceiling — most likely at herself in the mirror while her bull plunged his cock deep inside her repeatedly.

As if that wasn't enough, Jasper held a camera and photographed her for the entire session. He himself even snorted some powder straight from her ass.

They were like horny, rutting animals, redefining the act of sex with sick depravity. There wasn't a single iota of love behind their movements. Only a blur of bodies and pleasure.

Obsession. Hunger. Primal instincts that were bred out of the human race long ago.

Found once again in the small body of my wife, Cathy.

Turning her around, Jasper grabbed her waist and roughly fucked her on all fours; their flesh rapidly oscillating against one another.

With one final grunt, Cathy's whole body shook as she buried her face on the mattress and screamed!

Meanwhile, he kept fucking my wife through her orgasm as her pussy squirted, drenching the pillow under her with the smell of sex.

A few minutes later, she came again. I couldn't relate the perverted woman on the video with my wife — Cathy. My beloved.

"DICK FEELSH SHO GOOOOOD! POOSHY GHUMMING! GHUMMING AGAAAIN!"

She squealed incoherently, drooling from her mouth as her eyes rolled to the back of her head while he brutishly choked her.

I got what I wanted. I saw the truth. This is what I wanted.

But now, I'm not so sure I thought this through. Because the truth didn't set me free as I expected, no. If anything, I felt more trapped.

I'm lying here beside her, back on our comfortable bed — the empty hollow feeling in my chest slowly eating away at me as I write this. For the first time since I met Cathy, I despaired, knowing this place of comfort was desecrated today.

Funnily enough, I don't even know which pillow it was.

___________________________

[ May 14, 2018 ]

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I couldn't sleep. The past couple of hours has just been me trying to relate the cheating slut I saw screaming around her colleague's cock to the woman I married. I couldn't.

It's brought up a lot of questions in me. For example, how long has this been going on? The more I think about it, the more I realize she may not have been mine all this time.

So many vague memories and excuses started to fall apart under scrutiny. It was hilarious how much I trusted her. She must've thought me easy. The trip to Maldives, Rome. Maybe even way back when she graduated.

Had she been fucking him all this time while pouring her heart out to me? Was any of it even real?

So many questions, but one simple one stood above them all in my mind.

Did Cathy even love me at all?

___________________________

[ May 15, 2018 ]

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After checking out at the hotel, I came home and told her I was officially back from "office work," which meant I could spend much more time with her in the house this week. She looked excited at the prospect, but a part of me couldn't help but doubt her feelings. Maybe deep down, Cathy was disappointed. She couldn't fuck Jasper here as much after all.

As usual, I pushed the negative thoughts into the back of my head and pretended nothing was wrong.

For the fifth time this week, I kissed her.

On the same set of angelic lips she wrapped around some other guy's cock.

Most of my disgust was already gone. Replacing it was a dreadful sense of emptiness.

I belatedly took her to this beautiful place who served the steaks we've both been wanting. It was the original plan I had for our anniversary, which I had to cancel when she left for Rome. Much like me, Cathy didn't seem all that thrilled. In the end, she got a salad as if it was the only thing she was allowed to have. Which is crazy because I tell her every day she looked amazing as is.

I guess my opinion doesn't matter. Not as much compared to the guy who's been fucking her to the point of delirium, at least.

I suddenly wondered how Jasper treats her outside of bed. Was he making her conscious of her weight or something? Part of me thought it served her right. For all the things she's done to me, it was fitting that she be used and thrown away by an uncaring man.

Most of me pitied her. Most of me hurt for her. Most of me was angry at Jasper. Because if he was going to take her away from me, he should've at least been the right man for her. The person who would've helped her through all of her nightmares. The man who would'e helped her heal from her festering wounds.

The man I tried to be these past few years.

Call me stupid, but you don't exactly stop loving someone just because they hurt you.

Why am I even writing this?

_______________________________

I looked at the final sentence I wrote. Finally closing the journal for good, I hid it inside my wardrobe and locked it.

Cathy was asleep on our bed. The same bed I haven't been able to sleep on.

Resisting the urge to throw myself off the mattress and never touch it again, I climbed aboard and hugged her. With a groan, she unconsciously hugged me back. I felt tears running down my cheeks.

I still loved her. More than she loved herself. More than anyone in the world.

The real question was if she loved me back. Or if she loved Jasper more.

Just the thought was enough to kill me.

The darkness slowly reclaimed me as I held her in my arms. When I woke up, she was gone.

I knew what I had to do.

Washing my face with cold water, I picked my phone up and called him.

"Can you meet with me today? Don't tell Cathy," I said over the phone.

After a few moments of silence, he agreed.

Shortly after setting the destination, I hung up, got dressed, and drove to the coffee shop.

I looked up at the familiar sign. It was here.

The place where I met my soulmate.

With a push on the glass door, I entered the shop. Almost instantly, the smell of coffee assailed my senses. I looked around. It hasn't changed one bit, much unlike Cathy and I.

After a few minutes of blankly sitting on a table, I saw the man I was waiting for entering the establishment.

"Here," I called calmly. Jasper spotted me and sat across the table.

"Morning," he greeted casually before skimming through the menu.

"Have you ordered yet?" he asked.

I stared at him, unresponsive. It took him a while to realize we weren't here to catch up. When he finally did, he stared back at me.

"How long has this been going on?" I asked.

He squinted in confusion. "What are you talking about?" he responded.

I almost believed him. What did I expect? They were able to trick me for years. They're fucking world-class liars.

"Cathy and you. When did it start? I'd like for you to tell me the truth," I explained.

The pretense in his expression faded instantly as Jasper spoke, "You know, huh?"

I silently stared at him, waiting for him to explain.

"How'd you find out?" he asked curiously.

"I'm the one asking questions."

"And I'm the one your wife goes to for a fucking. Let's not pretend you have fucking balls, dude."

My expression betrayed none of my thoughts, keeping my eyes leveled on his. He seemed slightly disappointed at my lack of reaction.

How I only noticed now that he's kind of an asshole is beyond me. In my defense, I never really knew anything about him besides the fact that he was her best friend's classmate from college and that he offered Cathy the modeling job. I've only ever talked to him alone a few times, mostly in formal parties held by the magazine.

He spilled first, "Fine, fine. Cathy and I have been fucking since college."

I slowly closed my eyes at the confirmation.

Jasper continued, "In fact, she told me about you the day you two met. It was in a coffee shop, right?"

"This coffee shop," I corrected him.

"No fucking way! For real?"

He smiled, amused at the connection.

"That's crazy hot. You just gave me an idea. I'm not spoiling anything, but let's just say I hope this shop is empty at night," he added, smugly crossing his arms together.

I ignored him. "What did she tell you about me?"

He quietly stared at me.

"You're no fun at all. Give me some sort of reaction. This must be killing you,"

"Answer the question, asshole."

Jasper leered, finally getting the sliver of anger he wanted from me. God, he was an asshole.

"I don't know. She said she met this cute guy or whatever. Something like that. It's hard to understand somebody while they're giving you a blow. Cathy's got good dicktion, sure, but with a mouth full of cock, there's not much you can say."

The asshole then looked at me, expecting me to laugh at his pun.

"Get it? Dicktion?"

I shook my head.

"I don't understand. Does it make you feel happy about yourself?"

"What?"

"Disrespecting me and my wife's marriage."

"Huh.... I guess so. I'm sure she does. Your wife gets off on it like crazy. You should see the way she squirts when I mentioned your name during sex," Jasper snickered, his smiling eyes taunting me.

Seeing as I had no reaction, he begrudgingly continued, "But I think you're going about this the wrong way because I don't think any man would be unhappy screwing her feminist ass disrespectfully. Obviously, that includes myself. I do have to admit she's perfect for me, though. Cathy is an amazing match for my.... more sadistic tendencies. She takes it all gratefully with a killer attitude. Beyond all that, she's simply a hot fucking babe with a smoking body, you know? Surely you must've thought at least once that you didn't deserve her. I mean, have you seen your wife? Those kinds of gals don't settle for average men, and you know it. Heck, even they know it. They need to be fucking leashed."

He arrogantly sneered, "Only certain types of men can do that. Men like... me. Sad to say we're not the same, buddy."

It hurt because I knew he was telling the truth. I had thought I didn't deserve her more than once, but not because she was pretty or anything like that.

I thought I didn't deserve her because of how happy she makes me.

The simple bits of Cathy that make life on Earth slightly more tolerable each day.

Conversing with her loud and beautiful mind for hours upon hours.

Watching movies with her the way I never could do with other people.

Sleeping in her gentle embrace and feeling as if nothing could wake you up from it.

While I do appreciate the model's gorgeous body, Cathy was the one I loved.

The environmental lawyer. The independent woman. The cute girl I met here in this coffee shop.

I wondered when I lost her.

And if she still existed.

"God, I love my job. Flipping through a feminist empowerment page in the magazine while the woman on the front cover sucks on your balls? Shit."

Jasper clicked his tongue.

"In retrospect, that must suck for you, though. Imagine being married to a slut who does all that for another man, no questions asked. Haha! Fucking hell. How do you get up every day?"

"This says a lot more about you than it does about me."

"Are you sure? I think it says you're a fucking shrimp-dicked sissy who can't keep a woman if his life depended on it..." Jasper retorted with a smirk of derision.

He added, sounding as if he was giving me helpful advice. ""That's okay, though. I'm sure you don't understand, considering she doesn't have much fun with you, but she's fucking nasty! Believe me, you're better off without your bitch of a wife. You remember her graduation? She was an emotional mess after the ceremony for some reason."

I knew why.

Jasper continued, "Guess what? A few drinks and she's sobbing on my dick. It was fucking hilarious! Mascara ran down on her cheeks, but she still made sure to bob her head meticulously on my fat cock. Until I came on her face, anyway. You should've seen her. Well, I guess you did since she left shortly after to look for you. She probably fixed herself up, though. I have a picture here if you want."

My teeth clenched in anger. I could feel my fingernails digging painfully into my palm as I struggled not to punch him right there and then.

He took out his phone and showed me. I tried not to look, but my eyes were naturally drawn to it.