These are the duties of the sissy cuckold
Sep 16, 2014

She made me wear
A pink french maid's uniform that day
I had to wait on her and her black stud lover Tyrone

Fix them drinks and make them dinner
These are the duties of the sissy cuckold

It's hard to be inferior to him
He is so well-built and powerful
A perfectly sculpted body
A large and powerful manhood
He is every woman's dream

She reminds me that no beautiful woman
Will ever want to be with a sissy like me
That my manhood is too small
That my sex drive is too low
Nature has dealt me a bad hand

I sit by the bedroom door
This time I am not allowed to watch
She only told me that they would be doing it doggystyle

I sit next to the door
I hear her load moans and sighs
I know he is pleasuring her
In ways I never could

My goodness
Forty-five minutes have passed
And they are still going at it

I peer through a crack in the door
He is so powerful that he can hold her up
As he thrusts deep inside her

I am not strong enough
To have sex in the standing position

What a man he is
He can squat 300 pounds
And has a strong powerful ass

Look at him thrust
She screams in ecstasy

After she is finished
She will tell me how wonderful he was
As I polish her high heels

After he leaves
I have the humiliating and exciting task
Of giving her oral pleasure

These are the duties of the sissy cuckold

May 19

I came home to see
My bride to be

Lying naked on the bed
"Fuck me harder"
Is what she said

This powerful black man thrusted deep

Instead of protesting
I sat by the door

Jerking off
I uttered,
"Please Tyrone, pound my bride to be
Like A whore."  

He climbed off her and was done
Never had my wife had so much fun

She was leaking his hot seed
What a sinful and naughty deed

Her engagement ring lying upon the floor

She told me she still loved me
But had never been fucked like this by me before

As she blew him
She rode my face

His potent seed
Had a delicious taste

#sex   #cuckold   #cuckoldry  
Gabriel K
Gabriel K
Sep 16

“You know we're not going out”
she tells me
a couple days
b4 NYE
round the twenty-eighth ninth kinna thing
“you know that”.
And I do...did
I know we're not going out,
I was high
by love kinna
love for this plastic fantastic fascisti,
we're not going out
but I could buy her drugs though
take her home
chat for more than ninety minutes about the Neo-Realists on the phone
she could finish texts
with a couple of 'x's
sometimes three
you know
I'm connect with this handsome Italian
and I leave her at the door
of her home.

We make our choice in the first ten minutes
or is it seconds?
I don't recall,
the decision is made.
She got to no
on the second date
somewhere between the Whitechapel Gallery and Nobu,
but my heart stopped for nine months for you
this hopeless cause.
“I don't think I wanna get married” she tells me
outside Wagamama's
“or have a child”
try to smile
avoid eyes.

we're not going out
but we could go to the same party
it was too late to change plans;
she finds a seat at the opposite end
beside an urbane
named Andrew,
I open the champagne.
At midnight they kissed
tongues thrust enquiringly out
like anteaters
faces turned inwards
a two-headed god
swaying to Britney Spears
on the dance-floor.
I retreat to the other room
but at four o'clock
look around
they're still here;
Jesus! How long does it take to have sex?! Get your coat already!
Five forty-five
she wants to speak to me
her beautiful face defiant and angry
“You wanna share a cab?”
I'm silent stunned,
“You know we're not going out”
I think
but don't say,
we could share a cab though
a cuckolded chaperone
I know that
it's 2015.

© Gabriel K

The sequel to this is entitled: #9
R. Barclay
Feb 5, 2011

In comes one every week,
tracking into my home the filth of the streets:
some are patterned like cows,
some wear tuxedos,
some have turtle shells on their backs.  
One looks like a whole spice rack spilled out on him.
Barn cats, alley cats, stray cats, exotic cats—
she says no to none of them.

This home is wild and foolish like her mind.
That compassion pours out like acid on my bones.
Then I’m forced to shoot her down  
with words that fly out like bullets,
and more mouthfuls
and more mouthfuls of bullets
that all but ricochet off her iron clad will.

You turn so perfectly
down your roads of passion.
Creep on through the stop signs I put up
and mount on my head the horns,
the ones we pretend we can’t see,
the ones that let the bullets soar,
bullets to kill you again,
horns to undress your sister.

Or cuckold
Oct 11

A quiet evening
A man watering his lawn
As I walk up my street
Listening to jazz

The noise box
Is blaring
When I come home

Too much television
I'd like to turn it off

I walked up the street
My familiar akward shoulder
My familiar imbalance

I found a a branch
It made a tripod
And supported me
As I walked

It also served
As the horns
Of the cornuto
Or cuckold

As I put it over me
"Look at me, a cuckold"

The horns of a cuckold
No woman to cuckold me

Perhaps I am cuckolded by
The women I watch
In sex videos

topaz oreilly
topaz oreilly
Nov 30, 2012

He died with his boots on
but he was no hero of mine
he was the famous grouse
and hen pecked husband
of a cuckolded wife.
having made the stickleback and
jaundiced  Moon resolute .

But I won't be some tricked cuckold blindfold piece of shit
Simon Forsythe
Simon Forsythe
Aug 12, 2014

Baby, there's love between our eyes
So much love in disguise...
Incendiary, sparkling, tongued-out, pint size
But I won't be some tricked cuckold blindfold piece of shit

Jan 21


got caught staring.

And the balance is bullshit.
Bulkheaded and streamlined
into ego tripped cuckolds.

Fuck what you have to say.
Fuck what you have to do.

each letter screamed by the muted cuckold.
Connor Dalton
Feb 19, 2010

I killed her
Maybe the world did,
some for me.
Maybe there's something, anything,
I feel Her so truly
like an echo
all relief will be temporary,
all work for not.
each letter screamed by the muted cuckold.
I awake to my present
bound to love
bound to Her
and as I scream and
My heart screams out
please listen
for my echo.

The cuckold sits with empty pride
calpurnia mockingbird

The cuckold sits with empty pride
at all that's on display
he does not yearn for awful truth
'bout where she is today.
he dreams of travels far and wide
and promises the earth
he knows not that his dreams are lies
a source of lovers mirth
when she returns as day goes dim
he'll try to light a spark
he does not see that it's not he
who owns her weary heart.

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