I’ve got to say it was one of the most nerve racking weeks of my life. By Friday my stomach was knotted with butterflies and if not for the erotic undertones I would have cancelled on many an occasion. I couldn’t imagine how the wife was feeling, though she never once mentioned cancelling and she showed little in the way of nerves. In fact until the day came, she was reluctant to talk on the matter. However on the Saturday that did change. She was a wreck. Almost as if she’d thought it would never really happen and that I’d lose my bottle and cancel before the date. But I didn’t and the day was here.
For a large part of its afternoon she wandered nervously around the house trying to keep busy. For a smaller part she tried on underwear and stressed over clothing. After much deliberation she finally took my advice to leave off the sexy lingerie and wear my personal favourites, a pair of basic white knickers and a vest top, with no bra. Her boobs are of medium size and despite her being forty, they’re still pert and firm-ish. She also has a lovely little belly, which of course she hates, but I assure her constantly that she looks great, as I did on this day. She slipped on a pair of leggings and she was done. She’d spent over an hour in the bathroom showering and whatever else but when she was ready she looked no different than before. That’s my girl. I’ve never been one for loads of makeup and always found her natural look to be the most beautiful – understated beauty wins.
So there we sat, waiting for the arrival of the man who would fuck my wife. The man who might very well touch her in places I could only dream of. The man who might change everything. It was extremely tense and neither of us had much to say. I tried to ease the tension by playing her a tune on my guitar but that didn’t go down to well. So in quiet we sat. In the end I plucked up the courage and knelt in front of her. I said that she must try to stay relaxed and that she must only do what she is comfortable in doing. I made it clear that if at any point she wanted to call it off or stop she only needed to say. I hoped this would help her relax. She smiled at me and kissed me.
Then I finally added, “Don’t be afraid to have a good time and don’t hold back. If you feel like screaming do it. I want to see you having a good time.”
She smiled again but in her eyes I saw a look of doubt, as if she feared me seeing her enjoy it too much. Maybe she feared the outcome of the night more than the night itself.
For all of our lives together this had been my raging fantasy, that being twenty two years. When we first met we were teenagers and we instantly hit it off. For a couple of years we were friends and then inevitably we got together. Through our early years we were volatile, we fought and loved. We are both fiery types and our relationship was full of passion. We split up and and got back together and got married. My ability to earn was left wanting in those early years. I was a dreamer and I liked nothing more than a good dream. My fantasy of seeing her with another man, it was always there, if only in my mind. Through our twenties I would fantasise of it secretly. I had no intention of ever telling her because I had no intention of ever sharing her. This was similar through most of my thirties but over the past few years I have found a change in my thoughts. Such is the mind with experience but I began to seriously consider the act. Obviously the more I contemplated actually doing it, the more obsessed I became with it.
So it came to a point where I had to act, that being, I had to approach the wife. I decided I would have to be careful though. If I went to her and said ‘how about you fuck another guy and I watch!’ she may well have told me to fuck off, so I decided to go cautiously. The idea of her saying no had become quite unthinkable so I had to play it carefully. I started by buying her a dildo. A good starting place for the wannabe cuckold, I read. It was lifelike and very realistic. Seven and a half inches of insertable length and a five and half inch girth.
I was disappointed obviously but I would persist.
My next, and final assault was during our next sexual encounter. I came to bed late that night and as I lay there trying to get to sleep she backed into me, rubbing her lovely round ass against my person, my favourite sleep time manoeuvre. I make no quarrels in announcing I love her bum! It was what made me want her in the first place and it still holds its power over me now. So I rubbed her ample ass cheeks a little and kissed her neck, and her back, she loved it. But the game was, she still pretends to be asleep, so as my touch becomes gradually firmer, and my finger begins to accidental graze her pearl she begins to writhe more and more until she’s begging me to touch her there. I was rock hard by now and she was ready to accept me, but my mind was drawn away towards the dildo in my bedside drawer. I edged away from her hot body, being careful to keep a hand between her arse cheeks, gently teasing to touch her lips. I fumbled around in the drawer and took a hold of the dildo. Unfortunately it was still in its packaging and I struggled to undo the thick plastic casing. This made quite a noise and her passion was broken. She quickly flipped around and sat up to see what I was doing. An argument pursued which ended in her offering to put it up my arse if I was so obsessed with it. I duly declined her offer.
She said, “Well what makes you think I want it up me then?”
Even though I took her point I still questioned that her vagina was made to take such shapes and it was natural – my arse was meant for shitting. This night ended with her rolling over and going to sleep. My cock was left to go down of its own accord – not a great result. So with that I drew a line through the dildo adventure. Still I wondered what her problem was, surely she would enjoy it if she tried. I was totally disappointed and I feared I would have as much chance of getting her in a cuckold situation, as I would making her ride a rainbow.
When the door bell went my heart missed a beat. We looked at each other for a long moment then I went to answer it. I was met by a tall man, one who looked a bit younger and slimmer than his picture and he was also a bit darker skinned. He was obviously mixed race, I would of hazarded a quick guess that he was part middle eastern or of the sort. His beard was more full than on the picture too and he somehow looked less well kept than I’d imagined. Still he was here and I had to let him in. The thought that my wife had the power to turn him away entered my mind as a bit of a relief for the first time. He offered me his hand as he introduced himself. As I took it and welcomed him in I couldn’t help notice how big and strong his hand was. My own are far from feeble but as I shook his I felt inferior instantly. My mind instantly questioned the size of his manhood in comparison.
I showed him through to the lounge where my wife sat, hugging her knees nervously on the sofa. I remember her looking so small and sweet sitting there as I moved aside so that he could enter the room. He was quick to offer her his paddle as he saw her, not even giving her time to rise from her seat he took her small hand in his and he gently squeezed it as he leant down to her and kissed her on the cheek. The look on her face sent a chill of jealousy through me. A certain sparkle in her eye told me she liked what she saw. With my jealousy came the only thing that stopped me from calling the whole thing off, a wave of arousal.
He gestured to the seat next to her on the sofa and she nodded in acceptance. She dropped her knees and let her feet fell to the floor. There she sat with her legs tight together. Her little crotch hugged by her leggings, so vulnerable and sweet. I could sense his eyes had already undressed her as he offered some small talk. She answered him like a shy school girl, I cant remember what was said but they exchanged a forced conversation for a few moments before I offered him a drink. He declined, then relaxed back into the sofa a little, his large hands resting on his thighs. He’d obviously done this quite a few times before because what he did next was very polished and rehearsed. He went through the rules of what was about to happen, his eyes rarely ventured in my direction, they were homed on hers. She almost looked intimidated by his attention but she didn’t break off the eye contact. He assured her that she was in control and that nothing would happen without her wanting it. He said that if at any point your husband feels uncomfortable with what’s going on he needs only say and it will stop. He however added that in honesty there could be a certain point at which he would look to her for confirmation, if she agreed it would stop. I appreciated the honesty and understood the point. They were after all two consenting adults, still it did put a fear through me of what was about to happen.