The makings of a proper cuckold
For the Hotwife Handbook
by Nancy Fairchild
nancy.fairchild@hushmail.com
Ulrika-ka-ka
Ulrika Jonsson was a hotwife before the term was invented. In fact she was a non-compliant hotwife, like myself, long before that term was recently coined. She was married, a public figure in the UK and Sweden and fucked lots of other guys without even attempting to be discreet and, as any non-compliant hotwife does, didn’t worry about the impact on her husbands at all.
Ulrika was big in the UK in the 90s and during the naughty aughties (2000–2009). Every schoolboy had a thing about her and she probably was the most masturbated to woman among young teens for a generation. She was and is a bit vacuous, which is why I relate to her well.
The problem Ulrika had was, for each husband she managed to go through and quickly cuckold, not one of her marital choices could handle her behavior. A hotwife has to choose a man who can handle being a cuckold, being embarrassed for being a cuckold (because that’s going to happen) and being talked about behind one’s back for being a cuckold (that’s going to happen even more). And he has to be able to lie in bed alone at night knowing that some man is secretly laughing to himself for having made the husband of the woman he just fucked a cuckold (that’s part of the joy men have in fucking hotwives and it is what makes them so attractive).
Furthermore, if your supposed friend is aware that you are regularly making your husband a cuckold, they’ll use that as leverage to steal him away from you. That’s a warning to women who feel they have to share all their personal details with everyone else. Ergo, my mother is stunningly beautiful for her age, my husband has been imprinted with the idea that mature women are highly desirable, my mother’s daughter (me) has stupidly told her some things I shouldn’t and, therefore my mother sees no problem in sending seductive emails to my husband. And the bitch can go all innocent on me when I call her out on it because she feels it’s her right because I cuckolded a man she’s attracted to.
A hotwife’s husband has to fit a tall order and you can’t expect every man to measure up, but the key is not searching high and low for the perfect natural born cuckold, it’s to make your partner want to be a cuckold and make it his raison d’être.
If I have a good lover, I am happier than if I don’t. If I have a few good lovers who compete with each other for me, I am even happier. If I have lovers that want to spoil me and take me away with them, I become even happier. And, if I find the right balance of lovers that allows me to be very naughty with a younger man every once and a while, then I’m perfectly happy.
My happiness, brings happiness to my husband, Brian. So, when I come back from a night away, a weekend away or a three-month holiday away with a lover, I try to show Brian just how happy I am and that makes him really happy. Brian knows my lovers make me happy so he is, therefore, happy to be a cuckold.
In terms of the embarrassment Brian has gone through for being a cuckold, which would drive most men crazy and make them file for divorce, that’s an entirely different issue because it comes down to his character, which is not universal but, by no means, unique.
I’m selfish and spoiled and my body doesn’t come with a switch to turn those two traits off. Brian is unselfish and generous and, thank god, there’s no switch on his body either. Brian has infinite patience and I like instant gratification. He likes to spoil me; I like to be spoiled. He keeps everything clean and neat, and my lovers sometimes leave used condoms under our sheets. There are so many ways we were made for each other, but that doesn’t address the effect horrible people can have on a marriage that they somehow think they have a right to criticize from the outside. They can ruin a marriage just for fun.
That’s why the best cuckold is a self-possessed one. Brian could sit through an hour of dinner time conversation that could veer into excruciating detail about my affairs, with howls of laughter directed at him for being a cuckold and, you know what? He wouldn’t give a shit because he’s totally self-possessed. He lives in a different world than most people, which is why he can afford the €70,000 cost of the resort I am debauching myself in on a nightly basis on an Indian Ocean island and the weekly €1,000 spending money he puts into my account, every week for the last eight months.
Self-possessed men are like money machines. They make money because they think differently than anyone else. They’re not geniuses, they’re just different. Having a money machine for a cuckold pushes all my buttons.
So, when you work up enough nerve to change your life, look for the guy in the bookstore who’s entranced with Dietrich Vollrath’s latest work instead of the loser who’s studying the latest copycat version of 50 Shades of Grey. There’s a storm coming, by the way, and Brian’s already told me about it and how we are going to benefit from it. Don’t worry, it’s not the end of the world, this storm is a good one and will wash away some of the shit we’ve been putting up with this year.
