I knew my Filipina wife D’Anny was cheating on me, but it wasn’t until I saw the video on her cell phone of her having sex with a black guy, that it hit me so hard my knees almost buckled.

I mean, D’Anny and I had come to an understanding that she could see other men. I won’t call it an open marriage, per se, because it was strictly one sided; D’Anny had made it perfectly clear that I was not to see other women. When I pointed out the inequity of the deal, she shrugged and said: “With women it’s different.” If you don’t know the Filipino mindset, that will make no sense to you, but they rely more on emotion than reason.

D’Anny and I had met on an online Asian dating site, and after a year of corresponding, I proposed marriage to her and traveled to the Philippines to meet her. D’Anny is a gorgeous knockout, the kind of woman a guy like me could never have pulled in the U.S., and when we first met in person, I could see - though she tried her best to disguise it - the look of disappointment that flickered across her face. It wasn’t that I was ugly, so much as that - physically - I was no one’s idea of what a man should be. I am plain, short, and slightly built, with a small heart shaped jaw, and almost no body hair. But D’Anny agreed to marry me because she wanted what every poor Filipina wanted: a chance to emigrate to the U.S. and get a Green Card.

Eventually D’Anny and I completed the requirements for her to come to California, and we settled down in my apartment in the San Francisco East Bay. I was working as an accountant for a shipping company and while not making a lot of money, D’Anny and I were comfortable. What I had concealed from D”Anny was that I was a closeted homosexual who had been secretly cross dressing since age puberty. But I hated that side of me and yearned to burn it from my psyche. Which is why I married D’Anny, hoping that she would “cure” me of the loathsome thing I was inside.

Needless to say our sex life was not what D’Anny had hoped for. In addition to having a dainty frame, I have a very small penis. It became clear right away that D’Anny was the dominant one in our relationship. I had always been weak emotionally and physically, and that translated to our bedroom as well. Because I was unable to satisfy her sexually, she began having me roll over on my stomach and she would mount me and grind her cunt into my tail bone, and in this manner was able to achieve several orgasms. And it felt good when she did it - it made me feel like I was a bitch with a guy on my ass. I would listen to her crying out each time she orgasmed, and she would occasionally punch the back of my head. Then she would roll over and I’d get mine - which meant that we would sex talk as she masturbated me. During these long talks I was able to elicit from D’Anny many of the details of her past sex life. She was only 20, but she had been having sex with men since she was young - starting with her mom’s boyfriend - who she insisted that it was her who seduced him! D’Anny’s mom was a bar girl in Angeles City, and D’Anny had been raised in a series of small huts in back of the various bars in which her mom worked.

She told me that she had seduced Rolando by walking around wrapped in a skimpy bath towel whenever she could. One night when her mom was in the bar, and Rolando was drinking Tanduay rum, she kept walking around in the towel and playfully talking to him. She sat on his lap and let the towel slip off. She could feel his hardon poking her buttocks, and she wriggled around until he groaned and attempted to get her off his lap. She told me she ran her hand under his shorts and felt the bare cock and gave it a squeeze. She yanked down his shorts and sucked his cock right there, the way she had watched her mom suck guys off her entire life. When Rolando came she swallowed his load, savoring the unfamiliar aftertaste of his semen. After that she blew him every chance she got - until her mom caught them one day - and threw Rolando out.