There was a time that I resembled something like a man, but that was many long years ago. It started when I let my lust get the best of me. One night, in bed, drunk and horny as hell, I told my fiance, Krissy, about my fetish for cuckolding. We were engaged to be married, I felt like I could trust her to be understanding, I was dead wrong. Turns out that, most women, before getting married to the man that is supposed to protect her, they don’t want to find out that man has fantasies of seeing her ravaged by strangers. So she broke it off, kicked me out of the apartment, and proceeded to explain to all our friends and family the exact reason why we were no longer together. We lived in the deep south of north Florida, both our families were the definition of bible thumpin’ southern baptists, so unsurprisingly, I was quickly excommunicated. Nowhere to go, I stayed at a cheap motel for a few days. Deeply depressed, embarrassed, shamed and alone, I began binge drinking. Three quarters of a bottle of Jim Beam later, I was on the road, heading north. I was gonna get the hell out of this shit hole full of country hicks. I was gonna find a big city up north, Chicago, New York maybe, somewhere full of reasonable people, no more ignorant red necks and snobby southern belles. A fresh start. I was finally going to be free. Then, bang.