Today is his day… my sweet cuckold, the one who smiles with teary eyes while I get ready, with my skirt too short and the perfume that he knows is not just for him. He feels it. He knows. And yet, he loves it. Or rather… he cums with it. It is in his eyes that I see the dirtiest and purest pleasure at the same time. He bites his lips as I say, with a hot whisper in his ear: "Today I'm going out. With him. The one who makes you ache inside." He moans softly. Not in pain. With lust. Cuckolding has become an art form for him. Every heel I put on, every red lipstick, every new lingerie… it's all part of the show that he loves to watch from the audience, trapped in the fantasy of being mine — and knowing that, for a few hours, I belong to someone else. But he loves it. He loves being a cuckold. He loves being small compared to the pleasure I give to someone else. And when I return, marked, sweaty, satisfied… he receives me like an altar receives a Goddess.