Perhaps this post will have a much calmer tone than the previous one. I would even dare saying a ‘boring’ tone. If you are interested in action scenes, please wait for the next post, otherwise enjoy this one with the second phase of “Oh my God, and now where do I find the courage to meet him?”

For those who don’t remember where we’re at, my boyfriend has happily spent the night entertaining her friend (please, pay no attention to verbs, I still can’t be calm while talking about it), I woke up not that gaily just when he was returning home, I got him to tell me word for word how fun it was and then I left him sleeping as I knotted my stomach.
The following night we met. I mean, last night.
I was very nervous, because of the bad weather I was only able to put the boots and a pair of jeans when I’d have rather showed some pretty dress. The new top happily gave a hint of sophistication, so I left home with fair confidence.

We opted for a big shopping center, just to be safe from the rain, and seeing him in person after all that had happened made me very uncomfortable.
Suddenly I felt like I was with a totally different person, a stranger: the mannerism was different, the voice had a tone and a pace totally different than usual, even his face was strange to me. It was as if I could notice every single trait of him that didn’t make the whole sum I was used to anymore.
He held my hand, hugged me, gave me compliments and joked, but for me he was a stranger who had spent the night with another girl. I wasn’t angry at him, I only thought “Hey, who do you think I am?! I know you have been with another girl a few hours ago, and now you’re already playing the lovesick Romeo with me.”
I saw his hands and when I couldn’t help but think that he was my boyfriend, the memory of what those hands had touched crawled under my skin. His arm around my shoulders and I thought that he had done it with her too, he had joked with her too, he had touched and licked her too. I didn’t seem to have problems with the thing itself, it wasn’t the sequence “you’re with me -> you have been with another one” that was bothering me, but the one “you have been with another one -> now you’re with me again.” Fingerprints were glowing on his whole body, I could recognize every single cell that had been in contact with another body and I couldn’t stand that he would stain me too. I didn’t feel clean.

I know that I was silent and cold for most of the evening, I wasn’t able to see him as I did before even for one moment. I was afraid of not being able to recognize him anymore; I had read several times that other cuckquean couples after a ‘session’ would take time just for themselves, to reassure the cuckquean and strengthen their bond. I had read the loving and day-dreaming stories of those women. I was angry with myself because I couldn’t do it. “How dare you touch me?” was the only thing I felt when he leant his hand on me or got closer to the point of touching my shoulder. I couldn’t even believe that those compliments were sincere, for me they were tricks to soften me; a trick just like the one used with his girl-friend. I was ashamed, and not knowing what to say I just remained silent.

When it was just  a couple of hours to the end of the date I asked him to go to a place where we would be alone. I wanted to be able to change things because I couldn’t bear to go back home and feel more abandoned than before.
Once reached the place I just had to find a way to communicate with him. I kept on being reluctant to physical contact, closed in the same car in silence I felt that his whole body was screaming the ‘betrayal’. The more I heard the yelling and the more I couldn’t recognize him as MY boyfriend. I couldn’t stand that I had before my eyes the same person I loved with my whole being, and the more the evidences conflicted with my reality, the more I tried to distort it to save myself. I would have rather had him abandoning me than betraying me.

As soon as he started talking (I don’t even remember about what, maybe he was metacommunicating on the ‘session’) I felt my eyes burning from tears. Although his voice still sounded different, I recognized that way of dealing with contents. Only he and I had that kind of nomenclature, and the more I realized it the more I got upset thinking “Then it’s YOU who touched her!” After seeing my expression, when he approached I noticed the caution with which he was moving not to bother me, and at this care I started crying. I’m not talking about crying like when tears come down and you have runny nose. I sobbed for an indefinite time with my entire body as if I was falling apart, I stopped only because I felt so dizzy that I was afraid of fainting. I saw in my head all the fantasies that I had made about their night, and it hurt to overlap them to the carefree memories of us in our apartment.

Once I finished venting physically I immediately felt better, all the feelings that I had absorbed flew from me, they found a valve through which they could go out and release me. The first need was to kiss him, to feel his loving touch and rebuild my figure. I rediscovered his body as something I wanted to be mine and I hadn’t felt like that since the first time we got back together a year ago.
We made love and I had never felt so possessive, as if I was trying to show him that I could make him feel better than anyone else. I knew that it was my selfish desire, and that talking about the purely physical, the chances of finding someone better than me with him are high, but I recognized in me the will to make him mine again and I know it’s part of what I wanted to cultivate with cuckqueaning.

Tonight perhaps there will be the last part, the most difficult one. I’ve been quiet all day, but giving him the green light cost me a pounding heart and sweaty palms. I keep on being scared, and I have no idea of what it will means to know that he has had sex with another girl. Knowing that he wanted to touch her was enough to throw me into panic, now we’re talking about something worse.
After last night I have the hope and trust that as a couple we can mend these cuts, and I will try to make my terror of feeling that pain again not enough to stop me from developing this experience and nurturing it as something that will bind us even more.

That being said, I still tremble.