How my husband became a cuck - Sex Stories

How my husband became a cuck

My name is Chrissy Cox, and I made my husband a useless cuck. It all started when I was very young. I used to love being the center of attention when I was a little girl. I would sing and dance in public places making a spectacle of myself. Then in high school, it wasn’t always okay to act out. But I missed it. I missed the attention. I missed my audience's adoration, so I started doing things that got me attention that was supposed to be unintended.

I would wear sheer tops without a camisole or bra, so my nipples were slightly visible. Sometimes, I would pull my shorts up so my bottom would peek out the back, or my pussy formed a camel toe. The boys loved it, and the girls reviled me for it. They were jealous of the attention that I was getting.

The names that the girls called me were cruel. Some called me a slut. Some called me a slob. But the name I liked the most was “Bimbo.” The word always brought Marilyn Monroe and Amy Winehouse to mind. I felt like it was a glamorous moniker. Unfortunately, that was the name that really upset my mom the most. She hated that word and I often wondered why being a Bimbo was worse than being a slut. I never did ask.

Anyway, When I went away to college, I became bolder, and I reveled in the hungry, lustful stares that I received. Even some of my college professors enjoyed gawking at my peekaboo antics. And despite my bimbo appearance and ditzy blonde act, I was able to maintain my virginity. Then I met Jeremy and the real ...

... beginning of my becoming a cock hungry slut.

Jeremy was a beautiful man. He was a tall, muscular guy with bushy, dirty blonde hair and big blue eyes. He was from Oklahoma, and he had the cutest hillbilly accent you ever want to hear. I was in love the minute I heard him speak in my humanities class.

We dated for a while and on our third date, I gave him my flower, and it wasn’t that great. But I loved the man and we continued to go out and, eventually, the sex got better. I was actually enjoying it. I even looked forward to it sometimes. Especially when I had a lot of attention from my slutty outfits I got a charge, like from foreplay, when I could sense the lust some of the men who looked at me felt.

As things got more serious, Jeremy asked me to tone down my wardrobe and makeup, so men wouldn’t pay so much attention to me. But I explained to him that I dressed the way I did and wore such perfect makeup so that I could stick out and be noticed. I told him that he would not have given me a second glance if I were dressed in jeans and a baggy hoodie like all the other girls on campus.

After that he realized that he enjoyed watching men lust over me because I was his and his alone. I don’t like to say this, but he thought of me as a possession, not as a person. I was like a shiny, exotic sports car to him, and I liked it that way.

Okay, now you know how it started. My life would have been a relatively vanilla life that was spiced up by my questionable taste in clothing ...