The Death of a Cuckold – He may have lost his wife, but he won her heart

That was only an excerpt from one of my father’s love letters. They were long and colorful. My father was such a romantic back then. What happened to that magic? What happened to that spark? Obviously, Mom loved these letters because she saved so many of them. Though, a quick perusal of the envelopes and handwriting written on them, I noticed that there was a change. Not just in the penmanship, but also with the tone of the letter.

I can’t wait to see yor naked body again. I loved the way you straddled my cock while you played with your huge tits. The way you shrek when I spank that ass. I defintly love your lips as they wrap around my big fat cock. And the way you moan when you cum. I love you.


Aside from the misspellings, these letters in the back of the container were much different. They were short. They focused on physical sex, rather than emotional love. They used vulgar language, rather than poetic expressions of love. And yet, the writer still used the word ‘I love you’. Why did Mom have these? This definitely was not written by my father. What was worse, these letters were dated after my parents’ wedding. What was going on? A bunch of these letters were romantic and sweet and could melt a girl’s heart. They focused on love and living a life together. The other letters were crude and nasty, and focused on physicality and living in the moment. The grammar and spelling errors were enough to make me sick.

However, my stomach churned when I stumbled across the last find in that walk-in closet. It was from a laboratory out in California. The contents of this letter would change my life forever. It changed everything except for one thing.

I hated my father.

How could he hide this secret from me? Although, if I really thought about it? It should not have come as a surprise. My father may have worn his hair high and tight, it was still dark and brown. Mom always loved the way her long brown hair cascaded down to her shoulders in dark curls. Even in the wedding photos, their brown eyes danced with love and happiness. Maybe my blonde hair and blue eyes were just recessive genes? That’s what they taught in Biology. How could my father be so mean and hide the truth from me?

The official looking letter stated that I was not my father’s daughter. How could he do that to me? Why did he hide my real father from me? He must have forced Mom to not say anything to me. I never knew that he wasn’t my real father. With all the things he did for me, I can’t believe he would lie! He made me call him ‘father’!

I needed answers, and I certainly could not trust the person who had been hiding it from me for all my life. No, I needed to find Mom and make her tell me what was going on. Maybe, then, she could explain how she could marry such an evil monster like my father?

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