It is difficult to describe it, the feeling you get when you
watch another man fuck the woman you love, the intense multiple feelings, rage,
humiliation, lust and even love, more complex than the best of wine.
I never got to watch her fucking another man, though I’ve
imagined it, which is maybe worse, knowing it is transpiring without even the
satisfaction of seeing it happen, or watching her flaunt the fact – tearing her
victim’s guts out as another man enjoys her.
And yet, it is not completely without its attraction, this
stirring up of emotions, this hormonal outrage, this sense of helplessness – no
one chaining you to the chair, nobody forcing you (in most cases) to watch,
nobody keeping you from walking out the door. You just sit, and watch, and wait
(not for your turn, you never get a turn) for them to finish, or for other men
to join them, adding a cherry to the stop of that ice cream sundae.
Some men love this feeling, getting addicted to it, and somehow
encourage their loved one to love someone else. Some crave the feeling like a
drug.
I don’t. Not yet at least. But I feel it coming.
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