7 comments/ 39690 views/ 31 favorites I Wanted Her To Do It By: rnumbers123 This story happened in the early 1990's. My wife Rachel and I married young. We'd known each other our entire life. We didn't attend the same school, but our parents were members of the same church and took it seriously. Our social life seemed to revolve around the congregation, so Rachel and I grew up together. She was good looking and she intrigued me, but we were teenagers and so did many other girls. I went to college a few hours away while Rachel stayed in our hometown playing volleyball for our hometown university. She was a year behind me. We reconnected the summer between my Junior and Senior year. She was one of those girls whose "hotness" went off the charts after high school. She became a woman, in every sense of the word. Beautiful hair, sultry eyes that seemed almost mysterious, and an an athletic body to die for with wide hips and powerful legs. She was a little shorter than me, but taller than your average girls at around 5 foot 10, and I'm guessing because of her muscle and height she weighed about 140 or so but I didn't dare ask. She tanned easily and was partial to gold necklaces and earrings. On our first real date I'd returned her home from a long day at the zoo. We kissed in her bedroom, and I caressed her breasts. Her bosom was soft and inviting. Terrified her parents would discover us, we fled for a car-based makeout session, parking by the train tracks on an old dirt road in the country. A freight train came through and the next thing I know her shirt and bra are in the backseat, my lips nibbling her sweet, large nipples. Rachel's legs rested at crazy angles on the dashboard, the seatback pushed all the way down. I still remember the little details, how we unzipped her jeans and wiggled them down just far enough to give me access. She breathed heavily as my hand slid under her panties, combing through her pubic hair until I touched her labia which rolled between my fingertips. I remember how I tried to massage her clit, not knowing exactly where it was, and how absolutely warm and slick my middle finger felt as it slid into her. She buckled and yelped as I thrust my fingers in, my hand exhausted by the time she came. I was naive, kept going, until she gently pulled my hand away from her. The radio on, Rachel jacked me off in the dark to the Red Hot Chili Peppers. I surreptitiously smelled the fingers that had been in her. It smelled like pussy, sweaty and dank, not pungent, but not roses either. I grunted and came, cum splashing on my jeans. I was in love. That last year of school was tough. I was able to attend a couple of her volleyball games. I admired Rachel, proud to have such an athletic and talented girlfriend. She prowled the floor in her tight uniform, her nipples fairly obvious, the curve of her shorts hugging her ass and crotch. But our long distance relationship suffered. These were the days before email and cell phones. We exchanged mail like pen pals and I called once a month. In March I got a heartfelt letter that she'd been seeing somebody named Chad, a fellow student, and wanted me to know before I heard it on the grapevine. I was stunned and picked up the phone, but nobody answered. That night I lay in bed thinking about Rachel. I pulled out a Hustler magazine I kept stashed against the wall by my bed and tried to rub one out. I had mixed emotions. How could she betray me? But another side of me imagined her being kissed and caressed by this son of a bitch Chad. I lay back, just me in a tee-shirt stroking myself in bed, and closed my eyes. I pictured Rachel on all fours in her childhood bedroom getting railed. I felt my orgasm start and drove it home. When I came, a powerful spurt of hot white sperm roped high above me and seemed to hang in the air before falling and splashing on an open page in the magazine. I rarely came that hard while masturbating. I wiped the page, amazed at the quality of my arousal. I lay back more frustrated than ever, angry at Rachel. I spent hours planning a long distance phone call to her, plotted clever speeches designed to humiliate and shame her into choosing me. I knew it was futile. My mind wandered in erotic directions and I ended up masturbating three more times. The rim of my cock head hurt when I came the last time. I fell asleep around 2 in the morning. I woke up nervous at 7:30, barely eating. It was too early to call, so I gathered my school supplies and went to class. Throughout the lecture I couldn't focus. The professor wrote a list of items on an overhead and I just gave up, endeavoring to at least concentrate on his words. Never was I so thankful when class ended. I rushed back to my apartment. My hands shook as I dialed. My voice cracked as I said hello. It wasn't supposed to be like this. The conversation started awkwardly. I'd resolved to play the cool and aloof guy but I knew it sounded fake. Rachel wanted to see him. I told her that was fine, I hope she didn't mind if I saw other people. In reality there was nobody serious lined up. She apologized, told me she didn't mean to hurt me. The gist of it was this wasn't a one night stand. She still wanted to see me but was confused. It was all so very typical and I almost hung up on her in frustration. Almost as an afterthought I asked her, "Did you sleep with him?" "Why do you want to know that?" she answered. She didn't deny it. "Just curious is all, no big deal" I answered as nonchalantly as possible. She'd confessed to me last summer she was still a virgin, and wanted to save herself for marriage. My penis stirred, waiting for the answer. Rachel paused a moment, "Yes." My cock throbbed in my pants. The traitorous bastard. We said our goodbyes. I felt horrible. I'd lost my Rachel. She was special and some cocksman had taken her. I cried in my apartment. Raw rage permeated my soul but there was something else. I had this new erotic component that didn't exist prior. I was the victim of a cuckold mindfuck, my sexual brain rewiring itself to dull the pain. I took a shower and had to fight myself to keep from whacking off. I deliberately applied shampoo, soaped, and rinsed. My erect dick clowned me, sticking out like a salami as I dressed. I fought it, stuffed it down my pants, and walked to the university library, precum on my leg as I sat down to study. I finally gave up and jacked off in a school bathroom. Immature and naive, I prayed some homo wouldn't come in, discover me and get the wrong idea. The weeks passed, and I did my best to fight off the urges but my masturbation focused on her infidelity as the center of the fantasy. It seemed like it wasn't even my choice, although I considered putting it out of my head. I just couldn't. And with that I did my best to soldier on with my studies. Imagine my relief when I got a call from Rachel two months later, confirming that she'd broken up with Chad, or as I called him, Stud McStuds. I invited her to my graduation, and she happily accepted. She came with my parents, who were pleased as punch that I was interested in such a seemingly quality girfriend. My mom took me to the side and said I needed to hold on to her. She was a family friend, a churchgoer with good morals. She even taught bible class to the first and second graders. I was sort of embarrassed at the speech, but silently laughed at the ironies involved. Miss perfect, sure. Truly our relationship was fantastic. I moved back to my hometown, got a decent job in accounting. Rachel still lived at her parent's house. I also got an apartment and although her parents didn't want us shacking up, they tolerated the occasional sleepover at my place. We were adults, not teenagers. The first night she spent at my place was the first time we had sex. Up late after watching television we curled up in bed and I'd asked Rachel to tell me how she had been seduced. It was a question bursting to be asked. She hemmed and hawed, but I prodded until she opened up. She'd gone to a birthday party of a teammate. There was some drinking, which she didn't normally do. Late in the evening the stragglers gathered around to watch a movie in the basement. It was a pretty big house with a "finished basement" for entertainment. It had a kitchenette, an entertainment room with a pool table, couches and a widescreen TV, as well as a couple of bedrooms. She had chatted with Chad and he seemed interesting. He played baseball for her school, so as student athletes they had much in common. There weren't enough sofas and chairs for everybody, so she and Chad sat on the floor with blankets and a couple of pillows. They watched a videotape of "Platoon", which is hardly conducive to romance, but it was dark, the feeling of human touch stirred them and they bonded, holding hands. Near the end of the movie he reached down and rubbed her privates beneath the blanket. Chad nuzzled her neck and she knew. They picked a bedroom, shut the door and locked it. On the bed she pulled off her pants and his hand went between her legs. She made a point of telling me he had big hands and his fingers felt good. It was too much to resist. He pushed her down and unbuckled his pants. She saw him naked and she gave in. He deflowered her. She bled and it shamed and scared her, so much so that she smuggled the offending sheets out of the house the next morning and tossed them in a dumpster. No she hadn't used a condom. That had been stupid. He called her the next week and before she knew it, they were seriously dating. As she finished telling me her story, I attacked her. I told her I wanted to be her new Chad and she laughed and gave me permission. "Does that story really make you so excited?" she asked, amazed, "I thought you'd hate it." "So did I until it didn't. I had to know. You can always tell me stories like that," I answered. "Well I doubt there will be any more stories like that," she said. I peeled off her clothes and pulled a brand new box of condoms out of the bedstand. Now it was my turn. She helped roll one onto me, she now had experience with it. We groped each other until I put it into her. It was exquisite. She was snug and said it hurt so I put KY on it. I made love to the woman I loved so dearly, the mother of my future children. Two weeks later Rachel spent the night again. Again I brought up Chad and she told me doggy style was his favorite position. My cock buzzed. Again, she helped roll the condom on, then assumed the position. I cannot overemphasize how turned on I was. Rachel arched her back, sleek as a panther in heat. Her pronounced labia puffed out among a mass of dark blonde pubic hair. "Did he fuck you like this?" I said, intending to plunge my cock into her like a champion. It was comical. My latex covered cock head rubbed up and down her pussy slit searching for the weak point. I accidently thrust it against her anus and she yelped, reaching back to place it in the right spot and told me to push. I entered her. "Finally," Rachel moaned. She cried out in erotic pain. "Fuck me. Fuck me like Chad." That was probably the wrong thing to say. I came in under a minute. Rachel was bewildered and frustrated, but patient with me. I took off the wet condom, she bent over and took my limp cum covered cock in her mouth. Five minutes later it was hard again. We rolled on another condom, she bent over and we made love. I had no problems staying hard, and she was loosened up, telling me to fuck her harder and deeper. I did my best and afterward we cuddled and kissed. "Did you cum?" I asked. "I think so," she said, and that hurt because I wanted to impress her. Nobody thinks they'll be a sexual flop. I wanted to be the stud. I decided to try oral sex. Rachel smiled as I made my way down, kissing her shoulders, her breast, her stomach. I caressed her body as my lips and tongue traced circles in her pubic hair. She pressed her clit into my lips as I ate her out. "Yes," she cried out, breathing sharply. I didn't stop until she convulsed in obvious joy. My jaw and tongue ached. I was proud. She made me wash out my mouth before she let me kiss her, then we cuddled and talked. I asked her if Chad had made her cum when he fucked her. "Yes," she mentioned. "He was a little deeper. But you are great honey." I had my doubts. By my scorecard Chad was the better fucker. Heck, he was the better finger-fucker if that's even a word. But I was good at giving oral sex. Did he have to even bother? Now, I'm probably painting a sexually bleak picture. Let me make clear this isn't really the case. I'm detailing how seeds were sown that would later bear fruit. This was only the beginning of our journey of discovery. Rachel and I lusted after each other. We explored each other's bodies. We fucked and sucked and got better at it. We did it in new and interesting places, including both our parent's bedrooms, the church's administrative office, in a spare room at my work, and in a rented motorboat while on vacation at a family friend's lake house. We were sexual rebels. By the end of that summer, I'd asked her to marry me. She cried with joy. We decided to wait until she graduated and have a ceremony in July of the coming year. Our life plan was simple; get married, she get her real estate license, have a bunch of babies, go to church, grow old happy, the end. Rachel started her senior year and I attended all her home games. I now had money to spend on her. I bought her gifts, clothes and jewelry. We had a level of freedom untasted before. Just for fun we returned to the scene of two crimes. I fucked her in back of my new SUV parked by the railroad tracks where we spent our first real date. That was nostalgic. I also fucked her in the bed where Chad had first fucked her the year prior. That changed our lives. It was almost exactly a year after she first cheated on me. Rachel was again invited back to celebrate the same girl's birthday! Imagine how I felt when I finally met Chad in the kitchen. Rachel introduced me. We knew he might attend but I told Rachel I didn't mind. Seeing them interact, that was tricky. He hugged her. He sat up close to her on the couch. The two of them chatted and I sat back just observing, examining my mixed feelings. On the one hand, I was glad I got the girl. On the other hand, my mind played scenarios where she would sneak off with him and tell me about it later. It was an epiphany. I realized I wanted it to happen. I accepted it. I played a dangerous game. Rachel would occasionally seek me out and acknowledge me. She asked if I minded her speaking with him, and I said no. Imagine my angst as he hogged her attention. I didn't know if I should step in. I had no desire to be humiliated or provoked into a fight. Eventually I couldn't take it anymore, so I pulled Rachel to the side and asked her to come downstairs. She followed and we found the bedroom where the deed was done. I held her hand and pulled her inside. I kissed her and pushed her onto the bed. I told her to take off her panties and hike up her skirt. I didn't bother with a condom. She lay spread eagle and as I penetrated her that I pictured her as she'd been a few minutes earlier, upstairs talking with Chad. "Seeing you with him turned me on," I said. She just closed her eyes, breathing heavily. "Really?" "I can't help it," I said. We finished in under two minutes, worried somebody would come downstairs and discover us. This lovemaking session was more meaningful than a regular quickie. I'd confessed a feeling I'd bottled up for almost a year. I pulled out and came in her panties. I tucked them into my coat pocket. As I wiped my cock clean, a black cloud descended upon me. I had second thoughts about voicing my confession. I loved Rachel, and at that moment I didn't want to share her with anybody. She scurried out of the room to clean up and I waited for her. I resolved to tell her I was sorry. She didn't come back after a few minutes. I went upstairs and she was chatting with Chad again. At first I was angry, but Rachel just winked at me when we made eye contact. I left them alone and mingled. She found me chatting with some other teammates a half hour later. She whispered in my ear that he invited her to leave the party with him. I gulped as I heard that. I replied, "Are you just telling me or asking for permission?" "I'm so ready. You need to take me home now," she said. We drove a few blocks in silence, her fondling my hard cock through my jeans as I drove. I reached over and she pulled her dress up so I could rub her bare crotch. It was incredibly warm and a little damp. I opened my big mouth and said, "If you ever want to have sex with him again, you can." "Why?" she answered. "That's crazy." "I dunno. You seemed to really enjoy it with him. I think we both know he fucked you better. I kinda enjoy the thought, in a kinky sort of way." "WOW" She exclaimed. We drove in silence as I pulled up to her parent's home. Even I couldn't believe I'd opened that can of worms. I was about to apologize and she leaned over and started kissing me, reaching down to massage my hard cock that struggled inside my jeans. I scooted back and unzipped my pants. "You will be such a great hubby," she whispered in my ear and she went down to suck me off. I gasped as she mouthfucked the tip. I said, "But nobody else, no fucking way, only Chad." She didn't respond except to continue sucking me, this time going deep. I stopped her and insisted we kiss, tasting myself on her lips. I pushed her back onto her seat. The windows were already fogging. I fingered her and she panted. "Imagine this is Chad," I said. "I can't, I love you." She was breathing heavily. "But you want to?"' She paused, "Yes." "Imagine you left the party with him, with my permission." Rachel's breathing quickened as I finger fucked her. She squeezed her legs together around my hand. She blurted out, "Shut up, just shut up," and she grabbed my hand holding it tight to her groin as a powerful orgasm enveloped her body. When she recovered she reached out for my cock again. This time I sat back, and she took me in her mouth. I imagined it was Chad's cock she sucked. It didn't take long before I squirted down her throat. Immediately I had regrets, and felt the black cloud return. My desire to share her disappeared as soon as I came. We said we loved each other, and she exited the car. Feeling ambivalent, I dwelled on how easily I'd asked her to cheat and her pleasurable response. That night I tossed and turned, a rollercoaster of emotion. Around 3 am I jacked myself off to relieve that mental stress. I desperately wanted to be with her, to talk to her, but I couldn't call her because it would wake her parents. The next day was a Saturday, and I didn't hear from her. I called and her parents said she'd told them she was studying with friends on campus. That happened occasionally, but usually on weekdays. By the time I turned in that evening, I'd still heard nothing from her and was worried. Worried and excited. The next morning I dressed, and as usual for Sundays, met Rachel at Church. I was incredibly relieved to see her. She smiled and snuck a kiss. I didn't dare bring up current events as we milled about with family and friends before the service. The pastor gave a sermon on "Thinking Like Christ." The themes were general, but I felt like he was staring at me, lecturing me. I told myself that either I was being paranoid, or God was calling me that day. She reached out and held my hand, tightly, as the preacher spoke. This wasn't normal. My mind assumed it had to be bad. After the service, I went to adult bible study and Rachel taught the kids. I agonized. When that finished, I offered to drive her to lunch, but she insisted we go to my apartment. As we pulled out of the church parking lot, I commented on the sermon, how I felt like he was speaking directly to us. She just reached out and took my hand again. I Wanted Her To Do It I finally broke the ice and said, "Something is up, honey, what is it?" Rachel said, and I'll never forget this to the day I die, "I went to Chad's apartment yesterday." She rubbed her eyes, blotting tears. I was floored. My blood pressure rose. My heart beat fast. I wanted to stop the car. I was angry. I was excited. I was aroused. "Tell me more," I said. "Not here, I'll tell you at home. Do you love me? I love you. I'm so sorry" She was obviously panicked. As soon as the door closed to the apartment I kissed her passionately. I whispered in her ear, "You can make it up if you just fuck me." In our bedroom I pulled off her clothes. She must have been shocked at my attitude. She stood before me in all her glory, her skirt and panties removed. I knelt down and aggressively kissed her pubic mound and grabbing her ass cheeks. I couldn't get enough of her body. My fingers tried to probe her anus. She batted my hand away in shock. "I'll always love you," I said in between kisses to her lower pelvis. "Just fuck me now." She lay on the bed, spread eagle. Then I saw the bruise. It was just below and to the right or her pussy, where her ass met her leg. I examined her cunt for signs of sex. At first I saw nothing, I couldn't really tell. Maybe her pussy was different, probably it was my imagination. As I rolled on the condom I put it on backward at first, then flipped it around. I was a bundle of nerves. I lathered my latex covered cock with lube. "Tell me what happened," I commanded. Rachel started, "After you left, I was so horny. I called him that night. We arranged to meet yesterday." "Why didn't you tell me?" I asked. "You could have called." "I was afraid you'd say no," she answered, "I'm so sorry." Again she started crying. I placed my cock at her entrance and penetrated her, thinking how Chad must have done it. "Don't be sorry. I asked you to. I love you. Tell me what happened." She gasped for a moment, and continued, "I went to his place. Inside we kissed. I was so nervous. It felt wrong, I wanted to leave but I couldn't. I had to stay. There was some touching." Her voice trailed off and she closed her eyes, trying to make it count again between her legs. "Did, you," I paused, knowing the answer, "Did he have sex with you?" "Yes," Rachel admitted. I furiously fucked her, thrusting into her with all the passion and desire I'd ever had for her. "Oh God," I said. "I love you." My wife to be, fucked by another man, "How many times did he take you?" Rachel gasped, "three times," and arched her pussy to my groin, trying to fill her insides with my hardness. "Did you use protection?" The thrusting continued. Rachel confessed, "Not the third time. I had to feel him inside me without the condom. It hurt too much and he had no lubrication. I'm sorry." I rage fucked her harder than ever. Three times. THREE TIMES. I never fucked her three times. And without a condom. We almost always used a condom. Chad, that fucking stud bastard. I desperately thrust into her in an attempt to reclaim her. Now it was my turn to panic. I said a prayer that went something like, "Oh Jesus, oh fuck, oh Jesus, what if she's pregnant. She'd never get an abortion. She'd want to keep it. Please no." I kept it up for five minutes, her hard panting turning into a loud moans, prodding me on with calls of "deeper, harder". Eventually her moaning subsided and she told me to finish as she was sore. "Sore from fucking Chad,"I thought and spurted into the rubber receptacle as quickly as I could. My balls ached. My cock wouldn't even fully soften. Post coitus, the reality overwhelmed me and the black fog returned. We lay there in silence for a few minutes as she nuzzled against me, still holding my hand. Although part of me felt like a beaten man, I was comforted. She loved me. She wanted to be with me. Still, it shocked me how Rachel had taken my request and went out of her way to make it happen. Despite her denials, she obviously had stronger feelings for Chad than she let on. I asked her, "Does he know I know?" "No. I can't do that. It would be too strange." I answered, "I dunno, I'd rather him think you had my permission instead of thinking you were a run of the mill cheater. He might try to steal you from me." "Well I didn't think of it that way. I didn't want him to think we were weird." I thought her logic was faulty, a guy like that probably didn't have a whole lot of respect for her, but I couldn't be certain. Still, the bed was made. I asked her to fuck him and she did. I said, "What the fuck do we do now?" "We wait two weeks to see if I get my period," she answered. I sat in silence. How quickly I'd forgotten. Did I just fuck my pregnant girlfriend? I was numb as I said, "Whatever happens happens." It may sound ridiculous, but we actually cried together. We cuddled and apologized to each other. I told her I loved her no matter what, that I'm sorry I pushed her into it. Amazingly we had sex again, healing sex. That evening we cozied up to each other on the couch and watched TV. My eyes were drawn to her lower belly. Maybe I'm too creative, too contemplative. I placed my hand on her belly and held it there. In this tender moment she turned and kissed me on the lips. Could there be something in there? Growing? Was my wife another man's vessel? My cock poked into her back and she laughed, shifting. I resolved to love her even if she was pregnant. A couple of weeks went by and imagine our relief when her period started. Chad had called her at home a couple of times. When she told me this I got horny. I was downright pavlovian. Rachel asked Chad to refrain from calling back. Also, her family remembered him and knew of their prior relationship. They would get suspicious and we certainly didn't want the embarrassment. "Do you want me to tell him I don't want to see him again?" A was amazed at the question. I thought that was a settled issue but clearly Rachel still considered it an option. My sperm filled balls wanted to roll the dice. Luckily my brain intervened in a rare moment of maturity. "We dodged a bullet. Let's not be stupid. Fantasy and reality are two different things." And so amazingly we still kept the fantasy of him in our sex life. The fear of pregnancy passed and we were back to our old tricks. Her graduation, not to mention our wedding and honeymoon approached, adding a whole other level of stress to our lives. Our honeymoon was planned for Europe, four weeks in mostly London, Paris and Rome. I was lucky to get the time off. Graduation came and went. Two weeks before the wedding I came up with one of my most screwed up ideas. We were hiking, and had found a nice gully where we could cater to our other hobby, rebellious, quasi-exhibitionist sex. This was a game to us. Rachel pulled down her shorts, and leaned bent over a fallen log for support while I railed her from behind. As I slipped my cock in, I asked if she was up for hearing a fantasy of mine. "Imagine on our honeymoon, maybe in Paris, maybe Rome. Imagine we found somebody for you to play with." I paused and she asked me to continue. "You get hit on so often. Maybe you see someone you like. Maybe you want to have more than just two men in your whole life. You want to have an adventure." I said. I knew I was on the right track because she reached down between her legs and rubbed her clit as I fucked her. She didn't say anything. "What do you think of that idea?" "I think it sounds hot," she said, breathing heavily. "You think you could really do that for me?" "Easily," I said. I was fucking her quickly now. At the last possible moment I pulled out and shot my load into the dirt, flinging my cock to get all the cum off. She pulled up her hiking shorts. "God that was great. You are such a sex maniac." I looked at her, stuffing my now semi-soft cock back in my underwear as I zipped up. As usual, the doubts returned and I said, "Maybe it's a dumb idea." She smiled and kissed me, "It's not that dumb," and we forgot about it. The wedding went off without a hitch. Her dad, who never sheds tears, got a little dusty as he led his precious daughter up the aisle. Our Pastor, who we'd known since we could barely walk led the ceremony. We held the reception at a country club. We flew into London two days later, true loving honeymooners. Strangers in restaurants tbought us drinks, I stuck with soda although Rachel sometimes sipped wine or champagne. We held hands on our walking tours, kissed in museums, hugged in the parks. We also fucked like bunnies. We enjoyed our time in England and were sad to see it go as we departed for Paris. In London we'd gotten hotel rooms and ate fancy meals. It was expensive. We promised ourselves that in Paris we'd go cheap. We'd booked a stay in a youth hostel to play the vagabond travelers. That seemed appropriate for Paris. If we hated it, we could always check out. The hostel we picked was great. Paris is a crowded city. To the American eye, even the major hotels can appear jam packed into grand old buildings, and this place was no exception. I exited the taxi and noted the plethora of parked mopeds and motorbikes that ordinary Parisians took to work. The front desk was small and efficient. A bar catering to the guests stretched to what looked like a courtyard in back. The clerk was our age and not bad looking and immediately Rachel flirted with him. Imagine my surprise when my new wife told him we were brother and sister. It seemed she stuck out her chest a little more than normal as she said it. I stood there silently. Was this really happening? I'll make something clear now. I'm not an idiot. I didn't really expect Rachel to follow through with my fantasy. She hadn't mentioned it since that day hiking. "But your passports, they have different last names?" he asked. "Half-sister," I replied helpfully. We were booked into a communal room, with two bunks. She chose a bottom bunk. I purposely chose the other bottom bunk. If anything happened, I didn't want to get stuck up top, wondering what was going on. She sat down and I absentmindedly sat next to her and she shifted away. "Watch it, brother," and she smiled at me and winked. This would take some getting used to. We showered and planned on doing some sightseeing, the Eiffel Tower being the first stop. Being a guy I naturally finished quickly. I waited for her by the bar near the entrance, striking up a conversation with a Norwegian couple. After 45 minutes my wife came down the stairs. She looked incredible. Clearly she had prepared herself. She looked like she was going on a date. She wore a one piece cocktail dress that fit snugly and showed off her ample bosom. To keep warm she wore a denim jacket unbuttoned. Her gold jewelry accented her tan skin and dark blonde hair. Her only compromise was semi-comfortable heels that she could walk in. I waved her over and this time it was my turn to introduce my "sister" before we departed. We had a great time, walking all over the central part of the city. Paris is truly a tourist's paradise. The history and architecture impressed us deeply. By the time we returned to the hostel it was turning dark. Even more people milled about the bar area. Single people our age were just getting the party started. I felt jealous of them. We hung out in the bar when Rachel started getting chatted up by an Australian guy, Dave. I just knew in my gut that this might work out. He helpfully offered to buy us drinks. She seemed relaxed and talked easily with him, laughing at his jokes and they didn't shy away from physical contact. She sipped more wine. I drank Coke. He had some sort of hard alcohol. Dave invited us to go clubbing with him and his friends. My wife readily agreed. The next thing I know I'm following them and two of his friends into some nightclub. My cock was stiff and the angst in the pit of my stomach gnawed at me. She danced with him, winking at me from time to time. He leaned over to kiss her and she returned it, strobe lights flashing and colors that bathed the dancers. It wasn't even a slow dance. I wanted to scream, but stroked my cock through my jeans pocket, enjoying the emotional stress. By this time there was no longer self doubt or guilt. I suppose a psychologist would say I was conditioning myself to eroticize the stress of her infidelity. During a rare bathroom break I asked Rachel if she thought she could go through with this. She asked the same of me and I said yes. I told her she should bring him back to the hostel in a half hour. I told her I would return now and get in bed, pretending to sleep. And that's what I did. I waited thirty minutes. Thirty minutes turned into forty-five, then into an hour. I cursed myself and her. I felt abandoned. I wondered if they went somewhere else. Around midnight I heard her voice and the doorknob jiggle. It opened and they entered. She seemed tipsy and they made out. It was just the three of us. The other bunks hadn't yet been claimed. Rachel whispered my name to "prove" to him I was asleep. I played possum and didn't answer. The lights were off but light came in through a large pane glass window. I prayed they wouldn't close the blinds. I wanted to see. They sat on her bunk and kissed. As Rachel's lips and tongue explored his mouth, his hands pawed at her legs. I watched him pull up the hem of her dress, slowly and deliberately pet the inside of her thigh. She spread her legs to give him better access. Because she sat on the edge of the bed I could see straight up between her legs. He stroked her through her panties which were thin enough to not leave much to the imagination, then slid his fingers underneath to her bare skin. I knew he struck gold as she twitched. If you haven't watched your wife make out with some guy, his hand underneath her panties fingering her, you haven't lived. I couldn't believe my eyes. Dave couldn't care less about me and was busy nuzzling her neck. Rachel looked down at me, saw me looking at her, smiled and winked. Then she pawed at Dave's crotch while staring at me. He reached down to free himself and the next thing I see is his hard cock pop out. Rachel stroked it while seductively smiling at me. I blew her a kiss. His hard shaft was fairly long and thick, maybe eight inches long. After a few minutes of basically masturbating one another, she leaned back. He knew what to do as soon as Rachel opened her legs for him, her skirt hiked up to her waist. He leaned in between her legs, pulled her panties to the side and mounted her. Her powerful legs spread wide like a gymnast. I can still picture his hairy balls and the way his shaft disappeared between my wife's labia. She gasped as it penetrated her. She pulled at his hips, trying to pull him deeper into her. My wife absolutely enjoyed the sex. She picked up her pillow and bit it to stifle her screams. It occurred to me that here we were YET AGAIN with no protection. He bounced up and down, thrusting into her. I threw caution to the wind and stroked my cock under the blanket as I watch him desecrate Rachel's pussy. Suddenly his strokes got all herky jerky and he thrust hard into Rachel. I knew he was blowing his load directly into her fertile womb. I studied his balls, and sure enough they contracted. Dave fell onto her and they kissed in a sweaty heap. With the sudden quiet, I had to stop stroking myself lest I look like some sort of incestuous dumbass. He got up and put his pants on. My wife sat up, looking at me. She asked Dave if he didn't mind leaving, saying she wanted to get ready for bed. He happily obliged, the fucker not thinking twice as he abandoned his sperm filled conquest. As soon as the door shut I said, "Come here," She stood up, adjusting her panties and I told her to leave them on. She came to my bed. "Sit on my face," I said. "Suck my cock." She hesitated then leaned over, careful not to hit her head on the top bunk. Her legs straddled me, her cum soaked panties hovered above my chest. I reached out and touched the slick fabric. Cum. Real cum, sperm, not mine. Her pubic hair was matted and looked sticky. She sighed. "I want to eat your pussy," I said. She shifted her body and lowered herself closer to my face. I smelled it. I smelled him. I gently kissed the wet fabric, finding it surprisingly cool. I tugged at it with my lips, desperate to taste the damp fluid. My tongue found her salty bare skin and I planted more soft kisses, her wet pubic hair tickling my nose. My lips slid across her exposed pubic area. As my lips and tongue explored, semen coated curls ended up in my mouth. I was repulsed yet fascinated. "Take off your panties," I said. She dismounted me and stood by the side of the bed, her wide hips accentuating her pubic mound. She pulled her panties down and a sticky web of cum stretched between her pussy and the fabric. I groaned at the sight. Rachel pulled her underwear all the way down and kicked them off. "Please," I asked, "sit on my face again. Please." She straddled me, holding onto a bar on the frame of the bunk above for support. This time her pussy faced me. "Hold on," she said, and I paused. She reached underneath and fingered herself. It was as if she primed her pussy, her finger entering dry, emerging wet and slick. A small glob of white sperm emerged and she withdrew her finger. My heart beat fast as the tip of my tongue captured the goo; salty and impossibly smooth as it melted in my mouth. I swallowed and dove in hoping to capture more of the bounty, my tongue aching as I stretched it deep into Rachel's canal. I wanted to suck all of him from her; partially because I was scared of the biological possibilities, although I knew it was probably a pointless exercise. If his sperm was deep in her, some was never coming out. But I enjoyed wallowing in the humiliation of the moment. Another man had climaxed inside Rachel, whom I adored and cherished, and she fed me her pussy as my reward. It occurred to me that I better fuck her. If she was going to get pregnant, I wanted to have a fighting chance of being the father. "I want to fuck you like he fucked you," I said. She rose and we adjusted positions. She spread her legs for me. Her pussy was a mess, her labia framing her now gaping hole. I placed my cock up to her and slid in easily. In truth I could barely feel her. My balls slapped her ass. "Did you like his large cock?" I asked. Rachel said, "It filled me so much it hurt. But it hurt good." I was genuinely happy for her even if I was a little ashamed at my smaller cock. Trust me, my penis is not that small. It's almost six inches although I could fit it into a toilet paper roll. I continued my rhythmic pumping. Imagine our shock as the doorknob once again shook. We froze, mid coitus, as Dave came back in. He stared at us. "Fucking hell..." was all he said. He quickly gathered his wits, "Just need my wallet, thanks." Sure enough, it had fallen out earlier and he picked it up off the floor. When he closed the door he erupted in laughter. We could hear voices talking with him. I furiously began fucking my wife, cumming within fifteen seconds. My wife was mortified. I got up and marched over, sticking my head out the door. I saw four other guys with Dave looking at me from the hallway. I gave them a big shit eating grin. Evidently we made so much noise the little perverts did what I would have done, gathered in to listen. "In point of fact," I paused for effect, they hung on my every word, "she is actually my wife." I looked at Dave and said in my best Australian accent, "Thanks mate. You can come back in if you want." And he did. The room went nuts as we closed the door. And that's how that night went. By the time I fell asleep, in a puddle of my own cum, listening to the rhythm of my lovely wife getting fucked again, I was exhausted. It was sexual overload, and I was more than happy to let him take care of her as I drifted off to sleep. I Wanted Her To Do It She fucked two more guys before that honeymoon ended, a Brit in Paris and a Swede in Rome, but I never got the same thrill as that crazy first night. Maybe it's because I didn't get to watch. That's not to say I didn't try. No, my wife did not get pregnant. Yes, she got on the pill almost as soon as we got stateside. Hell, over the course of the last 22 years she had a few more flings. She fell in and out of love with a co-worker, that was truly scary. There's a whole set of emotions that were toyed with as Rachel moved through the stages of that relationship. The secretive sexual affair turned into a serious emotional bond. Dating turned into week-long visits. At first I allowed it out of erotic desire, but before we knew it the other guy had almost succeeded in marital theft. She considered leaving me. We rescued ourselves almost by dumb luck, the other guy overplaying his hand. He tried to get devious, insinuating to Rachel that he might tell our family if she didn't leave me. That snapped Rachel back to reality just long enough for me to talk sense into her. I never wanted to experience that again. It was our wake-up call to slow down, both in work and extracurricular sex. We started a family, having three kids. The youngest is now four. All are mine. Rachel, if you ever read this, I love you.