Best 11 quotes in «cuckold quotes» category

Some women would not cheat, and some would not have cheated, had they each married a man whom they love … or at least like.

Treaties are like marriage: they aren't entered in to with the thought of betrayal, and once they're concluded one shouldn't be suspicious. And if that doesn't suit somebody, they shouldn't get married. Because you can't become a cuckold without being a husband, but you'll admit that fear of wearing the horns is a pitiful and quite ridiculous justification for enforced celibacy.

Don’t forget guys, while I’m fucking, you can use my mouth anytime you want.

But a wife..." "...is an individual who can be interesting when one makes use of her, but one must know how to detach oneself firmly when serious reasons separate one from her." "That is a harsh statement." "Not at all...it is philosophy...it is the tone of the day, it is the language of reason, one must adopt it or be taken for a fool." "This supposes some fault in your wife, explain it to me: some natural defect, or a failure to comply, or bad conduct." "A little of everything...a little of everything, sir, but let us change the subject, I beg you, and return to that dear Madam: damn me, I don't understand how you can have been in Orleans without amusing yourself with that creature...but everyone has her.

He searched for a word – was ‘cuckold’ specifically masculine? Were women saddled with verbs instead of nouns, with the past-imperfect, the ‘was’ and ‘used to’ of being cheated, deceived, disappointed.

Introduction to Jane. - Jane removed the last of the unfamiliar, silk bra-cup pads and panty liners from within the clothes she was unpacking and placed them in her top lingerie drawer. Her discovery of their illicit presence was a bombshell with which her disbelief was still struggling. The shock was enough for her to call the office, cancel her appointments and tell the studio she would be off all day.

I live by never saying what if?...

Introduction to Amanda. - The equal measure of fear and desire her double-barrelled bust induced was plain to see. It might have been a mundane observation but it was something of an epiphany to Amanda just what it meant to be the only person in the room wearing a bra.

Introduction to Kate. - Satisfied she had concluded her notes on the manuscript she had been reading, Kate placed her heel back in its shoe and stood up. She smoothed her skirt and paused to spare a thought for Vincent. “What is going to happen next?” Kate remembered him pleading. Claire had said this would happen.

Claire. - Venus hung low on the Atlantic horizon of a dawn sky. Continuing to shine brightly, her watery reflection lit up a path on the sea across the bay to where Claire stood on the patio. The shining goddess was the last thing she remembered seeing through the bedroom window, before succumbing to sleep. She was high in the night sky then, the brightest of all heavenly bodies, casting an apparent examination of what was euphemistically known as Orion’s ‘sword’.

She had signed her own death-warrant. He kept telling himself over and over that he was not to blame, she had brought it on herself. He had never seen the man. He knew there was one. He had known for six weeks now. Little things had told him. One day he came home and there was a cigar-butt in an ashtray, still moist at one end, still warm at the other. There were gasoline-drippings on the asphalt in front of their house, and they didn't own a car. And it wouldn't be a delivery-vehicle, because the drippings showed it had stood there a long time, an hour or more. And once he had actually glimpsed it, just rounding the far corner as he got off the bus two blocks down the other way. A second-hand Ford. She was often very flustered when he came home, hardly seemed to know what she was doing or saying at all. He pretended not to see any of these things; he was that type of man, Stapp, he didn't bring his hates or grudges out into the open where they had a chance to heal. He nursed them in the darkness of his mind. That's a dangerous kind of a man. If he had been honest with himself, he would have had to admit that this mysterious afternoon caller was just the excuse he gave himself, that he'd daydreamed of getting rid of her long before there was any reason to, that there had been something in him for years past now urging Kill, kill, kill. Maybe ever since that time he'd been treated at the hospital for a concussion. ("Three O'Clock")