Submissive Cuckolds Vk

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Submissive Cuckolds Vk
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I’m a 41-year-old male who looks like the tall, strong, professional, alpha-male type on the outside. On the inside, though, I would like to find a strong, confident woman who wants a cuckolding relationship—she sleeps with other men, while I am faithful and submissive to her. There must be women out there who would love to have a loving, doting boyfriend or husband waiting at home while they go out with other men, but I tend to attract women who want the alpha-male type. What can I do to find—or attract—the kind of woman I’m interested in? Or should I go in for vanilla dating and then have a discussion about cuckolding after we’ve started having sex? Another Lad Pursuing Humiliating Action
“Most women, even dominant women, are still looking for guys who look like they ‘kick ass and take names’ in every other aspect of their lives,” said FleeMarket (u/flee_market), one of the moderators of r/cuckold on Reddit. “As for how to find dominant women, I see a lot of submissive guys on various websites—OkCupid, Reddit, Tinder, FetLife—and something they don’t understand is that women looking for sex or love online tend to get buried in unsolicited PMs from thirsty guys. That makes it hard to find that one respectful PM from a guy like our letter writer here. The signal gets lost in the noise.”
Before we get to some practical advice for ALPHA, a quick word about the term “cuck.” While it has long been an affectionate/horny term embraced by self-identified cuckold fetishists, the alt-right has attempted to turn “cuck” into a term of abuse, hurling it at any straight white man who gives a shit about racial justice, police brutality, and the plight of undocumented immigrants. In an effort to wrest “cuck” back from the bigots, and to mark the waning days of the Trump campaign, I’m dedicating this week’s column to “cuck” as properly understood: a guy who wants his partner to sleep with other men.
So, ALPHA, how can you attract a woman who wants a cuck?
“What’s worked for me is using the internet not to find people but to find kinky events where dominant women gather in real life,” said FleeMarket. “I’m on my second openly dominant female partner in four years, both of whom I met at kinky parties. The events are usually listed on FetLife, and you usually have to attend a munch first to demonstrate that you’re not a dingus who can’t follow the rules or a psycho who doesn’t care about them.”
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You will find a lot of advice for wannabe cucks on r/cuckold, most offered in response to men trying to talk their vanilla wives or girlfriends into cuckolding them. But you’re as likely to read stories of failure (she said no, absolutely not, never) as you are to read success stories (she’s fucking other guys, and here, with her okay, is the video).
“As much effort and time as getting into the kinky community takes, it’s still easier than trying to turn a vanilla woman kinky,” said FleeMarket. “He shouldn’t ‘lead with his kink.’ If a woman asks him what his interests are, mention it, but dial down the excitement level. These ladies deal with a lot of creeps, and it’s easy to scare them off. Basically: Be in the right place, treat the women there with respect, and get to know them as people first.”
My ex-three-exes-ago was a cuckold. I swore I would never date another cuckold after he blew up at me for not cheating on him juuuuuust right. I was just a prop, and I came to hate him. I also hated you, Dan, because he raised the subject by giving me some of your columns to read. Fast-forward five years, and my brand-new boyfriend tells me being cuckolded is his ultimate fantasy. I literally started to cry. He held me, he apologized on behalf of all cuckolds everywhere, we laughed, and then he dropped it. He didn’t pressure me, and about a year later, we gave it a try on his birthday. It turns out my boyfriend—fiancé now—is much better at this kink than my ex was. He’s open and honest, he communicates constructively, and he was willing to step outside his comfort zone to accommodate my needs. (He wanted the other guys to be strangers, but I need to know someone before letting him in my body.) I have a regular thing with an ex-FWB, and sex with my cuck is frequent and hot. Things couldn’t be better. So I’m not mad at you anymore, Dan! All is forgiven! Cheating Happily Ever After, Thanks!
Congrats on your upcoming wedding, CHEAT! And ALPHA? It would appear some vanilla women can be turned.
I’m a straight woman who’s about to cuck my man. We’re trying to figure out if my first sexual encounter with another guy should be in front of him or not. He says he doesn’t care; he’s excited either way. I am so nervous, but it’s a good nervous. We have been monogamous until now. I know you say to take it slow. But when it comes to cuckolding, does slow mean “Only kiss the other guy in front of him the first time” or “Tell him about the other guy I kissed”? On Him Watching Or Waiting
P.S. It’ll be more than kissing either way!
“Everybody’s different,” said FleeMarket. “There are guys who love being left at home while she goes out on a ‘date,’ there are guys who love being in the house/hotel but not in the room, there are guys who want to be in the room watching or participating. But as far as whether you should dip your toe in or jump in with both feet, there is no ‘right way,’ only what’s right for you two.”
That said, OHWOW, the reality of a partner sleeping with someone else for the first time—in front of you or not—can be a lot more intense than the fantasy, and you should definitely take things slow the first time.
“There’s the ‘baby steps approach,’ i.e., just flirting with or kissing the other guy (whether in front of him or not) and then seeing how he reacts,” said FleeMarket. “Or telling him that you slept with the other guy, when you really didn’t—just to see how he takes it. Then there’s jumping in with both feet and getting a hotel room and a few drinks with this other guy before taking both men up to your room.”
Whatever you decide, OHWOW, FleeMarket recommends having a plan in place in case things/feels/dicks go wrong.
“Use the traffic light system,” said FleeMarket. “Things getting too intense? Say ‘yellow’ to slow the play down. Someone getting upset? Say ‘red’ to stop the play, and all three of you can talk. It’s always better if everyone understands it’s okay to call a stop to play if you need to.”
I just came across the word “wittol.” It means “a man who knows, condones, and even encourages his wife’s enjoyment of coitus with another man or men; a contented cuckold.” Considering the frequency with which cuckolding comes up and your influence on language, I thought you might want to know. He’s Expanding Lexicon Perpetually
Discontent is a big part of the cuckolding kink, HELP, as cuckolds get off on feeling humiliated and jealous. So I’m not sure “wittol” quite works. But if the alt-right white supremacists succeed in making “cuck” synonymous with “race traitor,” maybe cucks will switch to “wittol.” But don’t give up without a fight, cucks!
On the Lovecast , when fathers come out to their daughters. mail@savagelove.net @fakedansavage on Twitter

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The life I knew -- the life I had with my husband -- died that night. There's no other way to describe it.
Apr 15, 2016, 11:47 AM EDT | Updated Dec 6, 2017
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It was early July, and we were on our way home after a botched date night. My spouse's mood was off, once again; this chronic melancholy, this little Eeyore cloud hanging over our lives and saturating everything in miserable little droplets. It happened all the time.
The unhappiness had put a wedge between us for years. I, the happy, bubbly, social person on one side; my partner, the quiet, brooding, isolating one. And on those rare nights we could sneak out for a meal or a drink, I would grow resentful when the Eeyore cloud starting pissing all over our parade.
"I wish you would tell me what's going on with you," I said as we drove home from the coffee shop.
"Enough of that. We've been together 22 years and you've been unhappy the whole time. Everyone can see it. The kids and I can feel it."
I sighed. "Is it me? Are you unhappy with me? With our family?"
"No, it's not you. It's not the kids. This predates all of you, trust me."
"Look," I said. "I'm tired of brushing this under the rug. I think it's time for some honesty. Nothing will get better if you don't tell me what's wrong."
"I can't," she insisted, staring straight ahead, hands firmly on the wheel.
I thought of potential big secrets and just started guessing.
"Are you gay?" I inquired. Hey, it happens, right? Maybe she wasn't as into me as my ego wanted me to believe.
"OK." And then I just threw it out there. "So, do you want to be a woman or something?"
Silence. And suddenly, I knew. But I had to ask again because I needed to hear the answer.
"You..." My voice was caught in my throat. "You're a... a woman?"
More silence. My stomach was in knots. I wanted to throw up.
"I can't talk about this," she said in the smallest, most vulnerable voice I had ever heard from her. I felt my heart break on the spot.
And I, the supportive mom of a trans child, the advocate, the ally, friend of the LGBT community, replied with an eloquent, "Oh, you have got to be f*cking kidding me!"
The life I knew -- the life I had with my husband -- died that night. There's no other way to describe it.
I thought I knew everything about my spouse. And yet, at that moment, I felt completely blindsided by the news. I didn't know this could happen twice in one family. (Our daughter, Alexis, is also transgender.) I didn't understand how someone could hide something like that from the person they'd been married to for over two decades. I didn't know how this would affect our family, the kids, his job.
I felt betrayed, hurt, devastated, angry and scared. And he, by the light of the Walmart parking lot we had stopped in, looked a perfect picture of terror and relief.
"I never thought I'd tell anyone," he said, staring down. "But I just told you."
I wanted to scream at him and I wanted to hug him, all at once. We were lost in a situation neither of us saw coming.
But that was eight months ago. I would love to tell you that, given all the experience my family has with trans issues, it's been an easy journey. It hasn't. The first few months were incredibly bumpy. I didn't think we could come back from it all.
But we did. Life with Zoe is beautiful. That's her lovely chosen name, by the way, and I helped pick it by vetoing all the ones I hated. I hated a lot of them. I'm really supportive.
Her name is now legally changed on her birth certificate, along with her gender marker. The papers came in about a week ago. Her birth certificate says "female," which means -- you guys -- I'm gay married! (Insert rainbows and plaid shirts here.)
You have no idea how many lesbian jokes I've been holding in for the last few months. Sh*t's about to get real.
This same-sex marriage revelation was a perfectly comfortable shift for me. It feels right, because we feel right. After nearly 23 years together, I finally have my whole partner, not just the part she wanted to show me. And that Eeyore cloud? It hasn't come out to play in a while.
My wife is gorgeous, witty and social now that she's finally comfortable in her own skin. We're the happiest we've ever been.
I need to give some serious props to our two sons. These guys could teach a class in resiliency, compassion and acceptance. They've embraced their mama with open arms, just as they did their sister.
And Alexis? She taught her mama to be brave like her by example, and saved her from drowning in secrets and misery for the rest of her life. What a gift that girl is.
While I know there are many horror stories out there about what happens when people come out, we haven't dealt with a single one yet. Our families, friends and neighbors have all been incredible. We're so fortunate to be surrounded by many caring, open-minded people.
And that brings us to this very day. Today is the day Zoe is coming out at work. There's much at stake here, and she's understandably nervous.
Like her daughter, Zoe has also written a coming out email to all her coworkers who don't yet know she's transgender (the ones she works closely with already know, as does HR, but there are may more people to tell). It's a big day.
After we do these two things, there's no more hiding. Zoe gets to be herself full-time. I get to say "my wife" without outing her before it's time. My kids finally get to say, "I have two moms."
We don't have to remember who knows and who doesn't know and who can't know yet because they might tell someone else, and ... well, let's just say it's been exhausting for all of us. We've been living in the closet, and it feels damn good to be busting out of it.
This is the internet, so I expect not all of you will be supportive. But believe me, there isn't a thing you could say in response to this news I haven't already thought of in the last several months. I used to worry about the shade people would throw our way, but not anymore. Our world is so full of love and support that it leaves absolutely no room for hatred or ignorance to reside within it.
Besides, on top of having both a transgender daughter and wife, I've been fully immersed in gender issues for two years now: studying research, interviewing experts, giving talks, writing articles, and connecting with thousands of families. So unless you're coming at this with at least as much knowledge as I now have, I'm probably not going to pay your negativity much mind. Just sayin'.
So why share this at all? The same reason we share Alexis' journey: I want you to learn with me.
If you learn along with me, then you won't be afraid. You won't be judgmental. You won't think families like ours are defective or weird. You'll get to know the queer parents at your kids' school instead of avoiding them. You'll invite the trans kid in your child's class over to play, like you would any other child.
And then you'll teach these things to the people in your life, whether directly or indirectly. Knowledge creates change. And then the world gets safer for Alexis and Zoe, the two bravest ladies I've ever had the pleasure of loving.
You and I are going to help make that happen, OK? Here's to the messy stuff of life, the woman I love more and more each day, and to wonderful new beginnings.

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I walked into my son’s school a few weeks ago to pick him up. He was sitting with all his friends waiting for me by the door and immediately got up when he saw me coming. Clearly, he didn’t want me coming anywhere near his friends. I got the feeling he didn’t want anyone to know he was with me. I was right.
As he got closer, he whispered, “Mom, why do you have to dress like that? Everyone stares at you.”
“No they don’t. They are probably staring at you because you are so handsome,” I told him.
“I blend in. They aren’t staring at me. They are looking at you. Why do you have to wear dresses and high heels?” For the record, I was wearing the outfit below. The nerve, right?
I decided I wanted to try something with my teenage son that day. I asked him if he wanted to dress me for a little while. I told him he could pick out my outfits and I would wear whatever he wanted me to wear as long as he had an open mind and would listen to a few things I had to say about people and the way they choose to dress, so that’s what we did.
I wanted to talk to him more about the subject and why he was feeling the way he was. And by having him choose my clothes for a while I would better understand why he wanted me to wear certain things, and maybe he would understand why I like to dress the way I do and that, really, it shouldn’t affect him as much as it does.
This was his choice for the first day. He picked out a very casual, sporty outfit, and I loved it.
While I dress like this about half the time and like this look, it doesn’t always suit me. Sometimes I feel like dressing up more, so I do. When I asked my son why he picked this out, he said because I “blended in and didn’t look out of place.” In his mind, when I dress up, I look like I don’t belong. If he only knew how many women I saw throughout the day wearing suits and heels maybe he would have a different opinion.
Regardless, I told him nobody should be judged based on how they dress — not even your very embarrassing mother . Most people wear what they are comfortable in, what makes them feel good. It doesn’t matter where it came from because this isn’t how we judge others. We focus on how they make us feel, if they are kind, how they treat people. I told him judging people for what they wear is very transparent, and he will be missing out on a lot in life if he is going to focus on making friends because of what they wear, what they have, or what they look like.
If he is comfortable dressing in a way that makes him feel like he blends in, I think that is great. However, I want him to have the inner confidence to step out of the box if he wants. If he feels like wearing something, even though none of his peers are, I want him to feel like he can.
I also let him know what someone puts on their body isn’t an invitation, for him or anyone else, ever. And he should always take heed on how he looks at people, especially women. There is a way to look at a woman without staring or gawking. No matter how you see her, she deserves respect. I don’t care what she’s wearing.
I also want my son to realize just because I am a mother it doesn’t mean I have to dress a certain way. I loved the outfits he picked for me, and dress like that on my own accord often.
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