All About Sam
I’m a thinker, a ponderer. I’m not trying to solve anything when I put my Pooh Bear “Think think think” cap on, I’m looking more to understand. (Thinking about this, I suspect Pooh Bear thinking and me thinking look very similar). This tendency has always been there, but it’s become much more useful, more focused, since I got sober. I suppose that’s not a huge plot twist, though good luck convincing pre-sobriety Sam wisdom wasn’t to be found in the bottom of a bottle of sour mash.
It shouldn’t be a plot twist that Kate and I are primarily a hotwife / cuckold couple at this point. Cuckolding, becoming comfortable with being a cuck, has taken its fair share of ponders. There are bouts of WTF am I thinking and doing, times when it’s not a simple thing at all. Getting sober and life in general over the years have taught me these kinds of thoughts can be “stinking thinking”. A sober buddy says these thought patterns are for entertainment purposes only. I had a bout of these thoughts yesterday; they can (and do) take over your thinking for a period. The worse part is they tend to cascade and next thing you know your thinking is getting really off the deep end.
It’s funny how frequently the tools I’ve learned getting sober apply to, well, everything, not just the bottle. “We ceased fighting everything and everyone.” “Acceptance is the answer.” these are a couple of phrases from our recovery literature that, once I internalized and understood them, I saw how they apply to quite literally anything I’m bothered by. It’s not that they are a Harry Potter wand making stinking thinking disappear, more you catch the thoughts before they cascade out of control.
I’m a cuck. It’s part of who I am. I’m also a husband, dad, son, grandfather, employee, customer, blogger, Clifford The Wonder Dog’s person, knife guy, and on and on. Remove any one of those, and I’d still be me—but I’d be a different me.
I can accept whatever is in front of me and have peace, or I can fight it and be miserable. Old me would typically choose the fight and I’d make everyone around me as miserable as I was. I treasure my peace today, and do everything I can to preserve it. Our ENM path has presented no shortage of clear and compelling evidence that I have a decided cuck lean. My choice became fight back against this lean or accept it. The last decade+ has made it clear acceptance is the skillful move.
I’m more interested in the how of these things than the why. The why is simple; the sum of the conditions which allowed the thing to happen. Cuckolding tends to be pathologized, the “why am I like this” or “what’s wrong with me” mindsets are very common. That’s probably true in any lifestyle thing that cuts against the grain of society as hard as cuckolding does.
The how is different; the how is the story of the conditions. Clifford chose me when she was 4 weeks old. She walked up to me and laid down on my feet. Kate and I created the conditions for us to become the couple we are over years of being friendly and getting to know each other at depth in our recovery world. What conditions came together to put me on the road to being a cuck?
I’m adopted. This foundational, basic fact of me is never asked about. Job applications, security clearances, no one ever asks. Being adopted cast a long shadow over the first 50 years or so of my life. I’m at peace with it now and hold everyone involved with an open heart. I finally realized to not do so was taking too great a toll on me.
Among my earliest memories are my Mom and Dad (the parents I know and who raised me) showing me pictures of a Catholic nun holding me, with them on either side of her. This nun “gave me” to my parents. This was part of my “coming home” story. The two women in that picture were each beautiful in their own way, each pivotal for me in their own way. In time, my biological mother assumed an equally pivotal spot with them. Interesting that I’ve never met two of these three pivotal women.
My being on the cuckold spectrum wasn’t caused by my being adopted, it’s one condition. This one condition has had an outsized impact on my life as a whole, so it makes sense to me it’s also shaped my cuck wiring.
I’ve always respected and loved women. I’m pretty sure my “coming home” pic has a lot to do with that. Mixed in there is a dose of fear, a dose of mystery, and the early roots of deference. Women kept me safe and loved me. To my way of thinking for a looooong time, a woman also abandoned me; a woman had power that I never could.
When, moving into puberty, I happened across my first Penthouse, it was a complete revelation seeing two women interacting in a sexual way. It floored me. Seeing those two women kissing and embracing, naked as jaybirds, was profound. The mystery, eroticism, and freedom I saw on those pages, combined with the pre-teen hormones left an enormous mark on me.
Girl sex has consistently been very free seeming and powerful to me. It’s also weirdly validating in a way. Almost the reverse of the enemy of my enemy is my friend….If the object of my desire is attracted to the object of my desire, how can I be wrong? Disregard the circularity of the argument, it made sense to my 12 year old hormone addled brain, and it still does in some ways. I found out later Kate being with different men held the same mysterious power over me.
The other side of this, also shaped in part by printed media, and the deference to women that had always been there, is I’ve felt sexually submissive to the fairer sex since sexual attraction woke up in me.
I can remember seeing, and then buying, a “Vampirella” pulp novel / comic in the local drugstore at some point in the 70’s, I’m thinking before Star Wars came out. The cover image grabbed me and said “this is for you, Sam”. My mom disagreed; the book disappeared probably the very day I bought it.
In the same time frame as the Vampirella incident, I was “caught” by the hot “older” (If I was 10 she was 12) sister of a friend while playing cops ‘n robbers or something. Me being on the bad guy side, she tied me up. This left a mark for sure. At this point, the submissive to women streak was firmly established.
These foundational how’s / conditions for me sputtered along for decades. High school was what it was, and there was too much going on and too much amazing music happening to get lost in kinky headspace. My first marriage didn’t have the room for me to explore these things. More importantly, my head space wasn’t right for them to be explored. I was very focused on me, very angry below the surface about the core abandonment in my life. It took getting sober to clear out the mountains of damage and debris I carried along with me.
The universe, being the universe, saw fit to put Kate right smack in the middle of my getting sober process.
Kate’s one of those women who men (and women) just can’t seem to help falling in love with. She’s the perfect mix of gorgeous, sexy, inviting, familiar, and exotic, all mixed with an effortless energy that’s equal parts compassionate, friendly and flirty. I know now her being the non monogamous woman she is informs all of this at a sub conscious level. I’ve seen more guys (and girls) fall in love with her than I can count, there’s a dude on facebook who’s doing it as I type these words.
Of course, I fell in love with her as well. This was about as inevitable as gravity, as was our relationship becoming the first among equals condition which enabled my leaning into cuckolding.
The first year or so of Sam and Kate being Sam and Kate was more about us being in our boy meets girl, boy and girl fall in love phase than anything on any sort of ENM or cuckolding spectrums. This time was about us, and along the way seeds were planted.
I knew Kate was bi before we got together. Maybe not spelled out as plainly as that last sentence, more an understood thing. Our first couple years together broadly coincided with my hardcore road warrior phase; traveling the world for 3 out of 4 weeks a month for the most part. Kate and I learned how to communicate plainly and clearly because we had to; we had to do a lot of that work while we were 9 or 10 time zones apart. Along the way, we had a conversation or two about her being bi and me being perfectly fine with it, I told her I would be fine with her seeing another woman.
Well……while hanging out in Antarctica for a couple months, I got the message from Kate saying she got on Tinder looking for a girlfriend. My response came without any effort on my part. The long silent and back burner submissive streak informed my headspace about this. It was clear to me I could give her what I couldn’t give her.
I couldn’t be a woman, at that point in time I couldn’t even be on the same continent, but I could give her the space to be with one (or several). This mindset carries on into cuckolding. I can’t be a man who’s hung like a horse who has in the room dominant sexual energy, but I can give Kate the space to have that / those man / men in her life.
That month between the Tinder announcement and me getting home, was a period of intense sexual energy between us; the horniest either of us have experienced before or since. That it happened while we were about as far apart physically as we could only added to the fire.
Sure as God made little green apples, Kate met a woman. I drove her up for their first physical get together two days after I got back from the ice. I didn’t stay, I didn’t make my case to be involved. I kissed her, walked out of the house, and drove off. I didn’t feel used, I didn’t feel anything other than good about it. Of course there was some angst and fear around it, but it seemed right as rain to me. Still does.
The final how for me, what cemented everything else into place was our first swinging full swap.
Very quickly, weeks, after Kate’s solo adventure with Dawn, we decided to dip our toes into swinging. I don’t remember which site we met this couple on, but meet them we did. We followed the swinger 101 playbook step by step. Some initial chat followed up pretty quickly with a dinner date. Looking back on that now, it was kinda cute. Kate and I were a bundle of nerves. Suffice to say they were as well, I don’t think they were swinger virgins but they didn’t have a lot of experience either. Dinner went great and we made a plan to get together a couple weeks later at a casino with a hotel.
After a couple false starts, as I recall they had a kid issue which kept them from meeting us for dinner, they got to the hotel and checked in. I was anxious about them not showing up for dinner, and along the way I projected patterns of behavior my ex had onto Kate. We worked thru me being neurotic, it was a good lesson for me about keeping things in the moment and treating reality as reality.
(Side note. I’ve noticed I have a pattern of being anxious / neurotic about something; spinning out, tending to trigger significant headspace shifts. There’s something else to ponder)
We met them in their room and started the always awkward dance between swinger couples who are there to play; who’s going to make the first move. If memory serves, it was the couples husband. So we headed into the bedroom and commenced to doing what swingers do.
I was enjoying myself with the wife, we were enjoying exploring each other. At some point, Kate and the husband stole my attention. Seeing Kate, the love of my life responding to his touch and direction, her giving her sexuality so freely to him, was like Michael Corleone’s thunderbolt. If you don’t understand that, your homework is to watch “The Godfather” and report back.
Something snapped into place in my brain, the bug bit me, whatever it was, my sexuality became more fully formed in that moment. Sure, there’s been no shortage of work and processing done since then, but Kate being with other men has been peak erotic and sexual for me since then.
It’s for sure been a difficult and involved path to accept that I’m a cuck, much more so than to accept than I’m, say, a knife guy. It’s also been much more rewarding and I’ve learned a great deal more about myself along the way. It’s accepted in recovery circles that being sober isn’t a destination, it’s a journey; you don’t arrive whole and finished at any point. For me, it’s the same with being a cuck.
Given this blog is (on the surface at least) about the non monogamous path Kate and I are on, my arriving to being a cuck has been kindof my central journey. Much like this post talks about the conditions which brought the cuck part of me out, the cuck part of me is just one condition that informs me as a whole. It doesn’t define me any more than my being a knife guy does. That’s true of any of us I think, we’re each the sum of our conditions rather than just one condition.
A few points of order to wrap this up. First, is that we now have a social media presence. We’re @sam.kate50 on TikTok. Trying to figure it out as we go. For now, it’s screenshots of a paragraph or two from a post with a link to the post the screenshot is from. I suspect we’ll add a couple of videos along the way. There’s already one of Clifford and Billie running around in the woods.
Couple reasons for this. First, why the hell not. Second, it turns out that WordPress (the platform on which you’re reading this) makes it difficult (at best) to engage with us in a way that respects people’s anonymity. (Speaking of which, I think you can comment now without using an email.) I totally get interacting with and around ENM, swinging, cuckolding is just better with a degree or two of separation from “real” life; Sam and Kate are our pen names after all. So, hopefully TikTok can help this along a bit. Also, emailing us is always an option if you don’t want to comment on WordPress or on TikTok.
Next, we’re thinking about giving podcasting a try. Format wise, what we’re thinking of is taking a blog post from the past, or the present, and kindof reading it aloud while talking about it at the same time. Color commentary with phones ringing and dogs barking in the background.
Much like TikTok there’s a couple reasons. First, this is all part of the master plan we hatched 3 years ago to take over the world. More importantly, it will give Kate a bigger voice. She’s the star of the blog, but kinda by default it’s written in my voice. There’s for sure a need for a woman in the lifestyle who’s voice isn’t tied to an income stream for her. The chief reason is we get enough positive feedback about the blog to think there’s folks who might find a half hour or so of us in their AirPods while taking a walk or doing work around the house useful or helpful. Podcasts have been and remain hugely useful for both of us, and we think we’ve found a way to put something out there that won’t crush us with added work and effort.
Final point of order is that all’s well at Casa Da Sam and Kate. The pups are chilling; Clifford’s head is on the arm of the couch, nose pointed at me. Billie’s chewing on a bone, which just fell to the floor and she’s looking at with a “WTF” look on her face.
Then there’s Kate. We’re ramping up to a heatwave this week and this reliably means skimpier PJ’s for her. She’s being all effortlessly sexy ATM; mussed up hair, tank top, legs curled up in front of her; she could 100% be on the cover of a Ratt album from 1987.
If you made it all the way thru this jumbo post, give your self an atta boy (or girl).
Thanks for reading!! Be kind to your self and others,
Sam & Kate
Sam and Kate 
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