1. The Discovery of the Diary
Jim had always known their marriage wasn’t conventional. He had accepted, albeit reluctantly, that Veronica wanted the freedom to explore outside their relationship. They had talked about it in vague terms over the years, settling on a “don’t ask, don’t tell” approach. He didn’t need to know the specifics. It was a deal they both had made, and Jim had tried his best to shut off the curiosity that buzzed in the back of his mind.
That was, until one day, when he stumbled across the diary.
It was a small, black book, almost unassuming, hidden between the books on their living room shelf. The worn edges and faded cover seemed to call out to him, beckoning him to open it. At first, Jim hesitated. But the gnawing pull of curiosity was too strong. He pulled it from the shelf and began to read, unable to stop himself.
As the words inside unfolded, his world started to crack. The diary was filled with the names, dates, and meticulous details of the men Veronica had been with. Each entry was a cold, brutal account of their encounters—passion, sex, comparisons. And scattered throughout were her judgments of him: “He doesn’t last long enough.” “Not as adventurous as Mark.” “I wish Jim would try this more often.”
She also detailed her adventurous sexual experiments while contrasting the vanilla sex she and Jim had.
Each line seemed like a hammer, chipping away at his self-worth. The comparisons were unbearable—Veronica’s lovers had strength, stamina, and ferocity. They were better than him in every way.
And, Veronica let them use her like a whore, including man sexual acts she had never done with Jim. She gave her body in a measured way to Jim, but she gave herself to her lovers with abandon and without boundaries.
Jim’s stomach twisted with humiliation, but as he read, a new thought gnawed at him. Veronica had left this diary out on purpose. She wanted him to find it. She wanted him to know how she felt, to see the gulf between them.
He set the book down slowly, his heart heavy with a mix of anger and hurt. But before he could process it fully, Veronica appeared in the doorway, her eyes locking with his. She knew he had read it.
“Jim,” she said, her voice unshaken. “I didn’t want to keep this from you. It was time for you to know.” She wasn’t apologetic. There was no remorse.
Jim said nothing, only nodded, feeling the weight of the moment settle over him.
2. The First Meeting with Marcus
That night, Marcus came to their home for the first time. He was black, something Jim had not gleaned from reading the diary, and a fact that put him somewhat off balance. Jim and Veronica were both white. Marcus was tall, muscular, confident. He exuded a kind of power that was impossible to ignore. His body was the polar opposite of Jim’s. Where Jim was average, with a slight frame and a life spent on the sidelines, Marcus was a titan—a man who commanded the room the moment he stepped in.
When they met, Marcus’s handshake was firm, almost too firm. There was no mistaking it: Marcus was taking control of the situation—of everything. Of Veronica, of their marriage, of Jim.
“Nice to meet you, Jim,” Marcus said, his deep voice calm and assured.
Jim barely nodded, the tightness in his chest making it difficult to speak. His gaze lingered on Marcus for a moment too long. There was something overwhelming about the man—the size of him, the confidence, the ease with which he moved through the space. But there was something else that Jim couldn’t immediately place. It wasn’t until he looked into Marcus’s eyes that he understood: Marcus was black.
A surge of confusion and discomfort hit Jim, though he immediately tried to suppress it. He had never given much thought to race, had never cared. But now, in this moment, it felt like a wall between them. The realization was jarring, like a strange new reality had settled into their world.
Marcus stood there, looking at Jim with an air of total confidence. Jim, on the other hand, felt a strange tension forming in his chest, a sense of uncertainty he couldn’t shake. He tried to ignore it, tried to focus on his wife, Veronica’s excitement as she introduced them. But that knowledge, that Marcus was black, lingered in the back of his mind.
And then, without fully processing it, Jim felt something else: jealousy. Not just about the fact that Veronica was about to share herself with another man, but that this man—this imposing, larger-than-life figure—was in a world that Jim could never fully access. It made him feel smaller, insignificant in a way that hurt, a way that his own body had never felt before.
3. The First Session: Jim Outside the Bedroom
With a wink and a seductive smile, Veronica motioned to Marcus to follow her to the bedroom. Jim followed her towards the bedroom too, but he stopped at the door halfway to the bedroom, unwilling to get too close. Hearing the bedroom close and the lock click behind him, Jim retreated to the living room.
He could hear the sounds coming from the back of the house — the low murmur of Marcus’s voice and the soft moans of his wife. The sounds were muffled, distant, just faint rustlings and soft whispers. Jim could hear a low, throaty laugh from Veronica — laughter that didn’t belong to him. It felt foreign, even though he knew what it was. A rush of discomfort twisted inside his stomach.
Then, as the sounds escalated, Jim stood up, his mind racing and his curiosity taking hold, he slowly made his way toward the bedroom door and pressed his ear against it. What he heard next hit him like a wave.
Veronica’s moans—loud, desperate—echoed through the door. The sounds of skin against skin, slick and rhythmic, followed by the unmistakable groans of Marcus, deep and filled with command.
“God, Marcus…” Veronica gasped, her voice trembling with pleasure.
Jim felt his pulse quicken, his hands beginning to sweat as he stood frozen outside the door. He wanted to leave, to escape from the crushing weight of it all, but he couldn’t. He had to stay. He had to know.
The sounds were growing louder, more insistent. Veronica’s gasps filled the room, mingling with the deep thrusts of Marcus. Jim could hear it all—every sound, every movement, every expression. He felt the bitter sting of jealousy, a sense of powerlessness taking root in his chest.
Unable to take anymore, Jim pulled himself away from the door, retreating once again to the living room. His heart raced, his mind spinning. He sank into the couch, the tightness in his chest unbearable. It was too much.
He was a passive participant, watching from a distance while another man had what he could not.
4. The Second Session: Jim Watches Intently
When Veronica emerged from the bedroom, she was naked, her skin flushed, glowing with the sheen of sex. Her lips were slightly parted, her cheeks flushed with a soft, satisfied pink. She moved slowly, with a deliberate grace that Jim had never seen before. Her body seemed more radiant than Jim had ever seen it, her hair tangled and wild, a few stray locks sticking to her damp forehead. There was something in the way she moved that told Jim everything. She had been used hard by Marcus. He could see the marks of passion on her skin—the faint redness on her neck, the slightly askew way her body held itself. Her expression was a mix of satisfaction and something deeper—an intense pleasure that she had clearly derived from Marcus.
The faint smile on her face, like a secret only she knew, was enough to show Jim that she had enjoyed it. That she had been truly, utterly fulfilled in a way that only Marcus could provide.
Her eyes met Jim’s, and for a brief moment, he saw something darker in them. Not remorse. Not guilt. But something else—something akin to power. She didn’t seem to need to say anything. Her very presence told him everything.
“Now I want you to watch me with Marcus.”
Jim’s heart lurched. Veronica’s voice was steady, almost soothing, but there was something commanding beneath it, something that pulled at him, something that made his feet move of their own accord. He couldn’t look away from her, not now, not when she had laid herself bare like this.
Veronica stepped closer to him, her presence overwhelming. She reached out, taking Jim’s hand gently in hers. “Come with me,” she whispered, her voice so tender, so soft. “I want you to see how important this is to me. I need you to understand.”
The words rang in his ears. Jim’s breath caught in his chest, and for a moment, he just stared at her. Then, slowly, he nodded. He couldn’t fight it any longer. He had to see.
As Veronica turned around to return to the bedroom, Jim noticed scratches on her back and buttocks. It looked like an animal had taken her.
With slow, measured steps, Jim followed Veronica back to the bedroom. Marcus was already there, sitting on the bed, his strong, muscular form taking up a space in the room that made Jim feel smaller than he had ever felt before.
Marcus continued to stroke himself even though he was already rock hard, ready to go at it again. Jim had never had the stamina that Marcus had, even when he was young, and he found that emasculating. More emasculating was the fact that Marcus’s cuck was at least twice the length and thrice the girth of his. Marcus knew what he was doing when he put himself on display. This was for Jim’s benefit. Veronica already knew Marcus’s massive member intimately.
Veronica walked toward the bed, climbing onto it with a sense of purpose. Marcus’s eyes met Jim’s briefly. There was no judgment in them in his eyes. As if Marcus knew exactly where Jim stood in this scenario, and didn’t care.
Jim hid in a dark corner of the room. He felt like an outsider. A voyeur. For a moment, Jim imagined he was watching a cliché video of a black man with a white woman, but the realization struck that he was watching his wife with another man. A sexually superior man.
As the minutes stretched on, the air grew even heavier. Marcus had remained on his back and Veronica was riding him cowgirl style. After several minutes, she spun around to reverse cowgirl, giving Jim a clear view of her face. Jim was fixated on the look of lust she expressed, and she bounced up and down on the massive dick. She threw Jim a glance, as if to emphasize that this show was in part for his benefit.
Jim listened to their bodies moving—slick, wet, rhythmic—and the sounds made his stomach turn. The slap of skin on skin echoed through the room, each one more pronounced than the last. Veronica’s moans, her gasps, filled the space, and Jim felt each one deep in his gut, like a punch to the stomach. He wanted to look away, to retreat from the intensity of it all, but his feet were rooted to the floor. He couldn’t stop himself.
Veronica began to grow fatigued. It was Marcus’s turn to do some of the work. Veronica laid on her back and Marcus raised her legs to her shoulder to better position her for deeper thrusts.
Every time Marcus slammed into Veronica with a loud slap, Jim felt the surge of envy flood him—envy for Marcus’s strength, for his control, for his ability to make Veronica forget about everything else. She cried out his name, and Jim’s heart squeezed painfully. It was as if she belonged to Marcus now, in a way she had never belonged to Jim. He had always thought he knew her—thought he understood her desires—but now, watching her with Marcus, he saw how little he had truly known. How little he could ever give her.
In that moment, standing in the corner, Jim realized something profound: he was no longer the man Veronica desired. That place had been taken by Marcus. And the power had shifted, beyond anything Jim could control, beyond anything he could change.
5. Kneeling by the Bedside
Veronica motioned for Jim to move closer to the bed, pointing at the floor, urging him to kneel. Jim hesitated but then obeyed. Slowly, he sank down onto his knees, just inches from the bed. He could feel the heat from the bodies on the bed radiating toward him. He could hear the soft, rhythmic sounds of their movements—the wet, slick sound of skin on skin, the low, throaty groans that seemed to reverberate through his very bones.
It was so close now. Too close.
The smell hit him almost immediately—an overwhelming, almost suffocating mix of sweat, skin, and the unmistakable, sharp scent of sex that filled the room like a heavy fog. It clung to the air, making Jim’s chest tighten with something raw—something primal. The scent was potent, nearly overpowering, lingering in the corners of the room, invading his senses with every breath. Jim noticed the fluids from the first session as well, some on the bed sheets and some on his wife. The stain in the bed was on his side, as if the mark was territorial.
As he knelt there, Jim couldn’t stop himself from admiring Marcus. There was something about the man that was magnetic—his power, his dominance, the sheer force of his presence. Jim had always been a passive observer, content to step back, to avoid the spotlight. But Marcus—he was a force of nature, unapologetically masculine, confident in every movement.
Only a couple feet away, Jim watched the shaft slide in and out of his wife. He couldn’t believe she could take it all. She clearly had practice. Jim thought about the fact that Marcus had forever spoiled his wife, both literally and figuratively, for average men like himself.
And Jim couldn’t help but feel something stirring inside him. It wasn’t just jealousy—it was admiration. Marcus seemed so assured, so in control, that it made Jim question everything about his own existence. He had lived so quietly, so far removed from the intensity that Marcus exuded. But there, on his knees, Jim couldn’t deny the envy he felt for the way Marcus commanded the room, the way Veronica surrendered to him without hesitation.
Every movement Marcus made, every shift of his body, left Jim feeling even smaller, even more insignificant. It was humiliating, emasculating. He realized, in that moment, that he was nothing more than a bystander in his own marriage, unable to compete with the raw power Marcus held. The fear in his chest was replaced with a sickening sense of inferiority. He had been reduced to this: a passive witness to the sexual superiority of another man.
The sounds of their lovemaking became more intense, the room vibrating with their passion, and Jim’s body tensed with the shame of it all. He had never felt so powerless, so invisible. It was as if his very existence was meaningless in comparison. Veronica’s cries filled the air, but they weren’t for him. They were for Marcus.
In that moment, Jim realized he would never be able to fill the role that Marcus had taken. He was not the man his wife desired. He was nothing but an accessory, a shadow in the presence of a real man. And as the heat in the room suffocated him, he felt it: the weight of his emasculation was too heavy to bear. This was his new reality—a reality that was as painful as it was undeniable.
Marcus pulled out of Veronica briefly and flipped her over like a rag doll into the doggie position. Veronica’s face firmly planted in the mattress; she stared into her husband’s eyes as Marcus prepared to enter her again.
This time it was different. He didn’t stab her with his cock like he had done earlier. Instead, he reached over Jim and took a bottle of lube off the nightstand. As he leaned over, Marcus’s chest brushed over Jim’s forehead, leaving a streak of his sweat dripping into Jim’s eyes. He had done that on purpose. He was now marking the cuckold.
Jim couldn’t see Veronica’s backside from his vantage point, but from the distinctive sounds, it was clear that Marcus was applying lube to his cock and to Veronica as well. Marcus grabbed Veronica’s hip with one hand, and he used the other to guide his cock into Jim’s wife’s ass. Veronica never allowed Jim anal sex, she said it was too painful, but it was clear that she had practice as Marcus pushed his huge cock into Veronica’s rectum with comparable ease.
As forced the last have of him in her, Veronica buried her face in the pillow and screamed. Marcus wait a moment for Veronica to adapt, then he began to slowly move the shaft in and out. With each cycle, Veronica became more comfortable, signaling that Marcus could assfuck her harder. Soon, Marcus was fucking Veronica’s ass with the same vigor he had her pussy.
The sounds in the room grew more intense. Veronica’s moans reached a crescendo, echoing off the walls as Marcus moved more forcefully. Jim, still kneeling next to the bed, could feel his pulse racing, his skin flushed with a mixture of shame and arousal. The noise—every thrust, every desperate sound Veronica made—was too much for him to bear.
Veronica was the first to orgasm. She had never had an orgasm when Jim fucked her. She always had to use a vibrator to finish herself off. Jim witnessed an orgasm unlike he had ever seen his wife experience. She bucked wildly on all fours, slamming her ass into Marcus’s dick while he remained still. Finally, she threw her head back in the air and screamed at the moment she began soiling the sheets with a squirting organsm, something Jim thought was an urban myth.
Finally, with a deep, guttural groan, Marcus reached his climax. The air in the room seemed to still for a moment, the weight of it hanging in the space like a fog. Veronica’s body arched beneath him. The sounds of his pleasure filled the room, a raw, unrelenting confirmation of what had just transpired. He left his cock in Veronica’s ass until it had been drained dry of semen, then took it out and slapped it on Veronica’s ass.
Marcus, breathing heavily, pulled back, wiping his brow before looking over at Jim. His eyes met Jim’s with a mixture of something—maybe pity, maybe something else—before he stood and began to collect his things.
Veronica, still breathless, smiled faintly as she glanced at Jim. Her eyes were softer now, but there was no mistaking the satisfaction in them. She had been filled, in more ways than one.
Marcus and Veronica laid sprawling on the bed. When he had caught his breath, Marcus leaned over and kissed Veronica before getting out of bed to dress.
Standing over Jim like a giant while he was still on his knees, Marcus seemed to be purposefully close to Jim, his face only inches from Marcus’s pelvis as he stepped into his pants, a not-so-subtle visual reminder of his superior sexual prowess. Marcus was so close, Jim smelled the musk on his dick, reminding him where it had been.
Without a word, Marcus left the room, leaving Jim alone with his wife.
“You saw it,” she said, her voice calm, almost serene. “Do you understand now?”
Jim didn’t respond immediately. His heart was heavy, his mind spinning with everything he had just witnessed. The words seemed to stick in his throat, so he simply nodded. There was nothing left to say.
As Marcus’s footsteps faded away, Veronica finally wrapped herself in a blanket, her skin still warm from the heat of the encounter. She sat on the side of the bed, her fingers gently running through his hair as she whispered, “We can never go back, Jim. We are changed now. I hope you can accept that.”
Jim swallowed hard, still lost in the throes of confusion and disbelief. He wasn’t sure he could accept it, but in that moment, he realized he had no choice. He had witnessed something raw, something undeniable. His place in his own marriage had shifted, and the world he had known before was now irreparably altered.
6.Marcus’s Subtle Confirmation
After the second session, the night winding to its natural close, Jim stood there, feeling more and more detached from the world around him. At the front door, Marcus, noticing the shift in Jim’s demeanor, turned to him with a knowing look.
“Don’t worry, man,” Marcus said casually, his deep voice still rich with the afterglow of the time he had spent with Jim’s wife. “Not every guy can be… well, you know, built for this kind of thing.”
Jim looked at him, trying to decipher the tone. There was no malice, no insult. But something in Marcus’s voice — calm — felt like an acknowledgment of Jim’s inferiority. It wasn’t a sharp comment, but it pierced Jim in ways he couldn’t explain.
As Veronica kissed Marcus goodbye, he tugged at the blanket causing it to fall to the floor. Marcus grabbed fists of both of Veronica’s ass cheeks possessively. Not satisfied with a peek on the lips, Marcus French kissed Jim’s naked wife in front of him. Pulling the cheeks apart he showed Jim cum dribbling out of his wife’s ass, a final slap in the face before departing.
As Veronica stood in the doorway, still naked, Marcus turned around and acknowledged their next date, later that week.
Jim realized at that moment he was no longer Veronica’s man. He was simply a man who had once been part of something that had been eclipsed. He was irrelevant in the face of Marcus’s towering presence, and it felt like a loss he could never come back from.