A Resurrection: My Cuckquean Journey, Part 2 of 3

Black and white image of Quean Mo sitting in the centre of a couch, legs crossed, looking straight into the camera. She wears all black and a serious expression.
Picture of Quean Mo in Vienna, Austria

Content Note: This article contains discussions on BDSM practices, such as Domination and submission.

Looking back on past articles and diary entries, I’m amazed by how far James and I have come. You see, after that wonderful evening in Portugal – where I returned to myself – I knew nothing would be the same again. This both excited and worried me.

I decided I would give myself a period of grace before speaking to James. I would fly home, wait for it to sink in and settle – really let my body and heart decide what to do with this information.

But then we boarded our flight, and I discovered my body and heart had other plans for me…

Flight of Fantasies

The friend who accompanied us to Portugal had to leave a few days early for work, so James and I were taking the flight as a pair.

As I approached my seat, I noticed a brunette flight attendant standing at the opposite end of the aircraft. She was greeting oncoming guests with a smile. Not just any smile, but one of genuine attention. Her black hair was tied back; the almond shape of her eyes emphasized by subtle, black eyeliner; her curved lips boldened by crimson flavor. I stood there in awe of myself, in awe of her, before realizing I was holding people up.

When James and I sat down, he put his head against the window immediately, hoping to catch a bit of sleep. I leaned in close to him, confident that I’d too make my way into unconsciousness…

My attempt was useless. I spent the entire flight inundated with fantasies of James doing to her – the flight attendant – all the things he does to me.

My brain couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop! It was shooting off mental fireworks of graphic, sexual imagery. My skin tingled. My limbs quivered. My heart pounded. My mind raced.


When James and I landed in Nantes, France, we had a few hours to kill before our friend came to collect us. We found a cozy table in the corner of a small restaurant. James was smiling. I was quiet. I told him I hadn’t slept on the plane. He summed up my silence to that of fatigue and motion sickness. He didn’t push. Sitting there he recalled the colorful memories of the trip, while I did my best not to implode. Because of this, I was compelled to take out a notepad and pen and begin to write…

In that little French restaurant, with the love of my life eyeing me curiously from across the table, I released myself onto the page. When I was done, although the haste concerned me, I slid it to him, fearful and eager. I watched his eyes consume the words: a glint of intrigue, a hint of confusion (you can find that piece of writing here).


I could see the inquisitiveness behind his eyes: “Where is this coming from?” he wanted to ask. Instead, he breathed, “Wow.”

With that, I took a chance: “There’s something I need to tell you.”

It seemed irrational to spill my secret, for I had discovered it mere hours ago. Although the Portuguese dancer oxygenated my fire, I was still deciphering what exactly was burning. 

The question “What am I?”  became real and daunting.

Once I revealed myself – revealed this strange phenomenon – could I ever go back?

What would happen next? What would our relationship become? Would James see me differently? With resistance or more desire?

It seemed irrational, but I trusted my instinct. The anxiety bubbled, I felt tears in my eyes, my hands were shaking. Reaching his gaze, unfamiliarity washed through me. I was looking into the eyes of a stranger from the body of one. There was sudden distance between us. I was terrified that my words would birth its permanence. But the fire was blazing hot, and too powerful to contain. In that moment I made the decision to trust him, the way he always asked me to. I looked at him. I let it go and I said:

“I want to watch you fuck another woman.”

Birth of a Hot Husband

Black and white image of a man. We only see his shadowed profile. He looks straight, not in-line of the camera. His face bearded and serious.
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Naturally, after witnessing my raging green monster in the early days of our relationship, James had huge reservations and several questions. First and foremost, he wanted to know what I meant by “watching him fuck another woman.”

James is a thorough human. So, I explained how I felt in that moment:

“You’re a dominant. I want to watch you dominate another woman. I want to see her submit to you.”

“And what would you be doing while that’s happening?” His voice was steady, trying not reveal his shock.

“I imagine myself strapped to a chair, as you speak to both her and I. Coming and teasing me, occasionally. Calling her names, while telling me that if I don’t watch, I’ll be punished.”

I don’t think I can describe the expression on James’ face as those words poured out of me. For a passerby, it’d be unnoticeable, but I could see past the pokerface.

Even if the realization of this fantasy was new, it scorched my innards. It boiled to the surface and nothing in my power could repress it.

I wanted him to know as much as I knew, even if it wasn’t a lot. He is my best friend, my lover, and my confession was the thing that would tear us apart or pull us together…but keeping it in would have surely destroyed me.


We spoke for over an hour about this fantasy, not knowing its name in that moment. The next several weeks bloomed into something magical, although, difficult.

Expressing this desire to him opened me up sexually. Suddenly I had impenetrable confidence. I was having orgasms in ways I’d never experienced before. My mind was free. My body was smoldering. He could see it, feel it, taste it, yet he was uncertain how long it would last. As was I.

Was this fantasy just that: something that would live in my mind, and never come to fruition? And if it did, what would that look like? How would we pursue it? Or would it fade with the post-vacation glow?

Well, dear friend, as you know, James and I have come a long way since this moment. This very blog was born from this discovery, and therefore it should be no spoiler that our life took a drastic turn, as we began navigating our new ethical non-monogamous relationship…

And I am ready, once again, to share all the details with you.

Until part 3,

Fuck well, friends!

Quean Mo xx

P.S. Tell me, have you ever had a conversation that changed your relationship/life? Share in the comments below or DM me here.

3 thoughts on “A Resurrection: My Cuckquean Journey, Part 2 of 3

Leave a Reply