21 comments/ 64771 views/ 50 favorites A Loving Wife's Story Ch. 01 By: diagones This is a female voice novel of 14 chapters. Some are short, some are long. All stand more or less alone, but the reader will enjoy them best in sequence. This is an emotional and psychological study of erotic impulse and sexual expression. ***** "I met an interesting man today." Those six words had the effect I thought they would. Any husband's ears would perk up if he heard his wife say that. A wife finding another man "interesting," in any context or for any reason, produces a swell of ramifications that can drench a husband. Make him flinch with a spasm of attention, alertness, make a thousand questions flash in his mind. That would be true for the most innocent of married couples. Jamie and I had lost our innocence. Or, I should say, we were on the home stretch of a deliberate journey to do so. The interesting man I met today was a coy introduction of our latest man in a line I had presented to my husband, in a mental, fantasy, erotic format which had ignited an extremely exciting new sexual world for both of us. I had spoken those six words with perfect feminine deliberation, timing the silence in our casual conversation the perfect length, my voice tone and pitch perfectly modulated, with a slight ring of surprise and a slightly stronger residual of perky interest. "I met an interesting man today." "Oh?" Jamie said, nonchalantly. "What sort of interesting man?" We had loaded the dishwasher and were cleaning stove and counter tops after supper. Jamie's reaction to my six words contained a zap of erotic electricity buzzing through him. I saw his eyes widen, his breath held in for a moment, as the buzz went to his store of experience gained over a year or more. I felt my chest flush, my pussy tingle, and a fat smile of offering spread on my face. How to present my offering? Or the idea of it, I should say. We had played with the idea of my meeting a man ("interesting" of course, handsome and sexy and magnetic assumed) in daring discussions in intense intimacy. An intimacy gained by accident that led to exploration, revelation, discovery of inner core components that stunned, liberated, ravished us both. A ravishing erotic thrill my husband and I shared as one. Shared when we wanted, when the stars were aligned and the urge compelling. Sharing and watching that compelling urge grow by its on volition to present the idea: Isn't this the next logical step? Do we dare? Can you allow it? Can I do it? Would it ravish us with an experience more exciting than all the one's before? My life was perfect. That quarter I was scheduled to teach six classes a week, Two in the mornings and one on afternoons. The students seemed bright enough. The Dean and faculty colleagues were easy to work with. My darling husband Jamie's accounting business was doing great; he had added four more CPA's to his firm, and, well, "prosperity" was an understatement. My marriage was ideal. My husband a very satisfying lover and wholly devoted to me. My health was robust. The day I met my interesting man, I had two hours before my next class. I closed my office and went to the Student Union for a cup of tea. It was crowded with students. Every year they look younger and younger to me. I didn't see an empty table, so I excused myself to join a male student sitting alone. "Crowded in here." "Very crowded." He said. "That chair is empty and I'm happy to have you join me." What a nice smile! He was a student, obviously, but not a young one. He was a man, and a good looking one too. I guessed him to be a little younger than me. Twenty eight to thirty, I thought. I smoothed my dress under, aware of my hands modeling my ass, as I sat in the plastic chair. "If you're happy, I'm happy." I said, with a smile to mate with his. It can happen that way. Something clicks, instantly. Chemistry, pheromones, something, instantly. I took him all in, instantly. Handsome man, athletic looking, warm and friendly eyes, chiseled facial features of brow, nose, lips, chin. His hair was neatly cut. "Corporate mandate short," I thought. Muscular arms in a stripped polo shirt. Strong looking hands with long and sensitive fingers, I thought, all in an instant. "Are you a student here?" I asked. "Part time. Just this quarter. Auditing courses in marketing at the Business College. My company's requirement, their expense." He lived in a neighboring State, holed up in a simple apartment agreeable to transients and not requiring a lease. He drove home every week end. He was married. All this information he gave in a relaxed manner of confident conversational flow with a strange woman who was happy to join him. "Are you a student?" "I'm on the faculty. Professor of English Literature." I said, and held out my hand. "Sondra Andrews." "My pleasure, Ms. Andrews." "Please. Sondra. I'm also Doctor Andrews. And please, don't ever use that title either." He laughed. "Sondra it is. And I am Dennis Cantrell." We talked lightly, easily, about his courses and his job and living part time in our city, away from his wife and children. He asked about my rewards for being a professor of English Literature. We both made steady eye contact. I caught my finger in my hair, twirling a strand, as I looked into his eyes and listened to him speak. I caught him giving exquisitely sneaky glances at my boobs nestled under my dress. In less than twenty minutes we were flirting, Attracted sex appeal was strutting its stuff. A handsome married man. I, a married woman with wedding rings sparkling in plain view. Those rush feelings of naughtiness and tingling excitement rising up, so much like the excitement of telling Jamie my stories. We had finished tidying up the kitchen. Jamie said, "I imagine a lot of companies send employees there for enhancement training." I knew he was skirting around the edges of my story, looking in from the outside, getting a measure of the volatility. "I imagine so. Dennis is the first one I've met." "I like the serendipity sound of the meeting." "The very best kind. Unsought, unplanned, filled with promise." Jamie stopped skirting around the edges. He put his arms around me and looked into my eyes. "Is he...Are you taking what we talked about to the next level?" "I'm not taking anything anywhere, honey. I just met an interesting man today and thought you should know." "Oh. Okay. It wasn't that long ago we were juggling ideas of you going out for new story material. That's fresh on my mind." "And fresh on mine as well. But this Dennis is just a coincidence, for now. A very nice coincidence I must say. He is certainly a man for me to consider. From all those instant signals of appearance and personality." "You really want to go through with this, don't you?" "We both know it is the next step for us. We have rehearsed taking this step. It would be as much for you as for me. That is settled, that is fixed." We walked to our bedroom with our arms around each other. We slowly undressed, welcoming that special excitement that had consumed us before, now set free again. The possibility that I might fuck another man, with my husbands permission and unreserved support. A marital intimacy unlike any other. Our marriage unlike any other I knew about. My husband unlike any other husband I knew of. Jamie is the most gorgeous man on earth. He is tall and slender and intensely masculine. But he is so impeccably groomed I thought he might be gay when I first met him. He most certainly, definitely is not. His neatly cut black hair parted on the side already has some salt dust at the temples. His body has no loose padding. He is a warm, gentle, kind, embracing man in all his daily interactions, and also in bed. That night, the serendipity and nascent possibility of Dennis Cantrell stirred his loins with additional vigor. We did not mention his name or the meeting, but he fucked me with extra energy, long hard thrusts that made me whimper and then wail in joyful surrender. The next morning I pranced about in my short silk robe that set off my legs, and fixed us a hearty breakfast while Jamie showered. He came into the kitchen, impeccably groomed as always. His expensive suit a perfect fit. My hair was a rats nest and I looked slatternly by comparison, I had no doubt. "Good morning, handsome. That sure was a splendid fuck you gave me last night." "Maybe I was inspired. You think?" "I'm all for inspiration. May it build and build. And perhaps it just might," I concluded, with a lewd wink. He smiled that smile that has melted my heart a million times. After Jamie left for work, I went to the bath room to take stock of myself. Actually, my rats nest hair was one of my best attributes. When I brush it fifty strokes it has natural wave down to just below my shoulders. The color is unusual, by remarks I have heard all my life. Depending on how light strikes, my hair is gold, sandy, brown, with a touch of carrot red. I took off the robe to study my body. I am five foot eight inches tall, and I have been called "willowy" by some female friends. Slender by others. My shoulders seem broad, as do my hips. My ass has enlarged some, of course, but the fuller curves still have resilient solidity. My legs are my best feature, long and very nicely proportioned all the way down to trim ankles. I am admittedly vain about them. Though my thighs are admittedly getting rounder and larger. I am not over loaded with freckles, but there is good scatter all over, the majority above my waist line for some crazy biological reason. My nose and cheeks are freckled. So are my breasts. My breasts are of average size and shape, I suppose, and they sit proudly on my rib cage. They move in the allowance of weight and gravity laws, and no more than that. There is no droop. I like them, a lot. Jamie loves them, a lot, and loves to suckle them and please me. My eyes are blue. My lips are a treasure to Jamie. A bit puffy large - mobile plasticity, Jamie says, made for sweet kissing, to fold under and out when they circle his cock and slide up and down. Jamie says "Sondra" is a name perfectly fitting to my blue eyes and willowy body, in a pastel summer dress, at a party on some lawn with tents and a buffet. Jamie can be quite poetic. He is my love and my life. I showered and brushed my hair fifty strokes. I laid on our bed, still holding barely detectable meaty scents of our wonderful fuck the night before, and my thoughts drifted to Dennis Cantrell. A possibility indeed. Maybe. Who knows? There was much I had to learn about him first. A sparkling courtship, a.k.a. seduction. Jamie had joined the complicity last night. Though our discussion was sparse, cryptic, coded, there was mutual understanding "the idea" was back with us, teasing and tantalizing. Had the time come? Was I ready? I was ready. Was Jamie? He was on the edge. I knew that. He might need a nudge, or a hearty push to send him over the edge. I fingered my cunt slit and clit. Seeing Jamie fall. Seeing me in full bore seduction of that Dennis Cantrell, arranging, constructing paths of convergence, contact, collecting the kindling to light our fires of sexual desire and dance among the flames. I brought myself to orgasm and knew in that blissful clutch the time had come. The idea was ready to bear fruit. Dennis Cantrell would be the one to conduct my husband and I to the next step for our ultra special capacities to expand in larger experience, to see, feel and know. I thought back to the beginning, what these ultra special capacities were that my husband and I had, and how we had discovered them. ****** We were out one night in the car, I can't remember doing what, and rounded a curve that gave a view of a motel on a not far distant hill side. The Red Rooster Inn. It was something of a land mark in our city, the only building on the hill side, facing east, with the silhouette rooster on the roof presumably crowing every sunrise. It was eye catching because it suddenly loomed into view as motorists rounded the curve toward it. Jamie said it was a bit seedy now, now owned by the Patels, of the East Indian Patel family of fifty million members, which now owned ninety percent of all motels in the U.S.A. I laughed at that, then out of the blue, with no idea why I said it, I said, "I got fucked in that motel one time." That took Jamie's breath for a moment. "Did you indeed? Not recently, I hope." "Long ago, before we ever met. I was a mere girl." "I would like to hear more about that." "Perhaps I will tell you sometime. Maybe later tonight?" Funny, when I said that we had little else to say most of the ride home. I went back in memory to that afternoon in a Red Rooster room, a rousing memory of learning pleasure. Many vivid snap shots of those hours doing a slide show in my mind. It suddenly occurred to me Jamie was doing exactly the same thing. Conjuring up vivid images in his mind of his wife, a mere girl back then, getting fucked in that motel. What he was no doubt fantasying gave me a sudden rush of erotic thrill even greater than my own memories. We had been married five years. Sex was open and wonderful for us, and we never let the flame of passion get very low. But we had never discussed past experiences. We both had several lovers before we met. We both knew enough, and that was evident the first time we made love. But we never had the inclination, maybe not even the curiosity, to question each other in much detail about previous partners. I had him. He had me. History was irrelevant. Our sexual bliss was all that mattered, and we had that. I have no idea what prompted me to say, "I got fucked in that motel one time." It certainly wasn't boredom. We went to bed naked that night, as we did every night during the summer. I had brushed my hair fifty strokes, and I knew the dim night light from the window would cast it in a gold silvery color that so entrances Jamie when it is spread on my pillow and strands trail down toward my breasts. With every stroke of that brush, I was thinking of my willingness to tell Jamie about my getting fucked in that now seedy motel, and wondering how much he really wanted to hear? He put his arms around me and kissed me. I love the smell of him. All his natural smells. The scent of man. The angular manliness of muscles and bones long and strong against me. "Just a mere girl." He said. "Who got fucked in the Red Rooster Inn." "Eighteen years old. A bit on the wild side by then." "Who was the boy?" "The boy was a man. A friend of my father. Not nearly as old as my father. But he was much older than me." "I see." Jamie said, after a stretched pause, not sure what he was seeing. "It might sound a sordid tale. Sure you want to hear it?" "I can do sordid." "His name was Ken and he was married. He might have been early thirties, but at my eighteen that was old. He was a golf playing friend of my father, and I met him on numerous occasions during high school. He was always nice and friendly and charming. I thought he was sexy and damn good looking, but during those hormone laced days I thought so many males were sexy. He suddenly noticed little Sondra had grown into a willowy, full blown young lady. He couldn't hide his notice. Casual hand touches that lingered, eye contact, bold flirting when we were separated from the crowd. I was flattered, intrigued, aroused. I responded to him. That first kiss he stole when we were absolutely alone. All this spread out over almost a year. The question, the challenge, the dare, he knew just the place to take us to be alone. I said yes, I wanted to do it." Jamie's cock had sprung up to full length and girth while I spoke. It was hard as steel. I took it lightly in my fingers and felt the heat and throb. His breathing was shallow and constricted as he listened to my story. He was terribly excited. And so was I. "The Red Rooster Inn. At three in the afternoon. A mature man and his eighteen year old piece of ass. We got right to it." Jamie's cock throbbed beneath my fingers and swelled even larger. "What was he like?" "Not like the boys I had known. He was bigger and heavier, body shape wise. Hairy chest and legs. He was totally confident. He was married and had a lot of practice, of course. He took his time. He loved the freckles on my chest. He licked and kissed them." Jamie made a moan sound from his nose. His eyes were closed. "Here," I said, "I want to feel your mouth." He supported himself on his elbow at my side, and sucked my left nipple into his mouth. His left hand reached to play with my right breast. The wonderful sweet pleasure spread all over my chest, and went down to my clit, where the fingers of my right hand went too. His cock wrapped in my left hand was very big and hot. "My memories of that experience are a bit fuddled. A lot happened to me. It was long ago." "Concentrate." Jamie said. "They will come back." When he said that, I felt a rush of sexual excitement the likes of which I had never had before. Jamie was involved in my experience of that long ago afternoon. Fully sharing it with me. I was right, he had taken a fantasy trip during our mostly silent travel back home. He was eager to hear. No jealousy or any other negative feelings. That was clear. He was experiencing his own totally new rush of sexual excitement, his rush combining with mine. That was clear. I was leading him - I knew not exactly where. He wanted me to lead him. That was clear. My fingers rubbed my clit. The rush grew stronger. "I remember sitting in the car while he went into the office to rent the room. I felt so grown up, so daring. My first real man. A married man at that. I felt wicked, and so excited I could barely breathe. My pussy juice was already soaking my panties." Jamie's mouth was doing its magic on my nipple, his fingers feather dusting, pulling, pinching the other one. Sweet but strong and vibrant pleasures. Jamie magic. "He made love to my breasts with his mouth and fingers, just as you are now doing to me." Jamie made a moan. It was a husband moan, containing a quality of helpless depth that is impossible to put into words, but it was a communication to me that seared my mind with meaning and importance. It was a moan of identifying, Ken's mouth and fingers once doing to me what Jamie now did, and my breasts feeling the same pleasure from Ken that I now felt from Jamie. It was a moan I would hear many times in the course of our marriage. It was an extremely precious sound to me. "I deep throated him. I had sucked cock before, but that after noon with him in that motel room, feeling daring and wicked, I sucked him with more abandon than I had ever sucked boys before. Opened wider, challenging myself to take it deeper. Drooling on his hard cock. Gagging some, but keeping on." "Did he have a big one?" "Average, I would say. Bigger than most of the boys I had before. Or maybe it just seemed that way that day. A new one for me. He was probably about your size. Somewhere in the ball park. I really can't remember. What I do clearly remember is for the first time I didn't suck cock as a favor to the guy. I really got into it. The full experience of it. The smell, taste, texture of silky skin on that hard cylinder of meat. Man meat, man cock. Filling my mouth full. Slobbering and licking and stretching my lips wide to suck up and down. Really giving a blow job to that man who was only an acquaintance, really, and loving to do it. You could call it my first day of training to love cock sucking." "Lucky me." Jamie slurred. "I know you love sucking mine." "With all my heart and soul I love sucking your cock. It is beautiful, and it belongs to me. Your cum tastes good. It always does. Spurting into my mouth, filling it up, so delicious and right to swallow." "Did his cum taste good?" "I didn't suck him off. He wanted to cum in my pussy. And of course he did." A Loving Wife's Story Ch. 01 "Bare back?" "Yes. I was on the pill. I thought he was as safe as any of the school boys I had fucked." "A wicked, eighteen year old girl." "I was! I was! Wicked and wanton. Wanting to experience and learn. Ken was the first to make this young girl into a woman. That afternoon in the Red Rooster Inn." "How? What did he do?" I thought my husbands cock was bigger and harder than I had ever felt before. I gave it a few slow strokes with my hand, while my other hand gave increasing speed and pressure to my clit. All those zinging, rippling pleasures that scramble for orgasm were unleashed inside me. They joined with the pleasures spilling out from Jamie making love to my breasts and nipples, just as Ken had done so long ago. "You are really into this, aren't you. Hearing all the details of that time with Ken. Your cock is huge and very excited." "Yes... I don't know why. This is the strangest erotic thrill I have ever had. I don't know why, but it is." "And my erotic thrill in telling you is just as strange and just as strong. I'm as surprised as you are. But I love it. Our sharing this way. We can do it. We have the love and trust and intimacy to do this. To be daring and wicked, on our marriage bed." "Yessssss.... Tell me more." "I pulled my knees back and spread them wide and he fucked me. His big hard cock filled me, and moved back and forth in me. That marvelous pleasure in being fucked by a man. Being a woman. He had great energy. Thrusts long and slow, then faster and harder. He did something no one else had ever done. He put my ankles over his shoulders and bent me double. I had my first orgasm ever just from fucking. Maybe two or three of them. I lost it. I lost myself in orgasms in rolling, gripping waves. I heard myself screaming. I heard him bellow like a bull when he came. His cum shot into me and felt wonderful." My moving finger on my clit, Jamie's mouth sucking and lightly biting, sometimes not so lightly, my nipple, and those same Red Rooster waves were surging and billowing and building in me. But Jamie was with me this time. I could feel his erotic sharing, his connection with my related experience, emanating from the entire length of his body, touching my body like magnetic currents, losing himself, letting it happen. I paused my flying finger on my clit to rest a moment, to prolong the devastating excitement that had seized us both. Serendipity. Unsought, unplanned. An opened door, A new vista. A new world. "You can see it all in your mind, can't you. Your wife at eighteen, on that motel bed, being fucked by a mature man." "God yes. Almost like I'm there with you. Watching, hearing it all. I've never felt anything like this before. I don't know why. I don't have any control over it. Your story excites the hell out of me. I can't explain it." "Don't try to, baby. I'm as excited as you are, and I can't explain it either. Let's not think of why. Just let it happen and enjoy it. This wonderful intimate sharing. I love you so very, very much." He raised his head from my breast and looked into my eyes. My heart melted. Jamie, my husband, my beautiful man. "I love you Sondra. With all my heart and soul." "Kiss me." I said. He touched his lips to mine. He kissed me like no other man can do, with an all consuming devotion, and an insatiable hunger for my lips and tongue and love. We kissed a long while, sweetly, and heatedly, the vivid imagery of our sharing still flashing in both our minds and over the bed like strobes lights on a modern chic club dance floor. I slowly stroked his cock which seemed, impossibly, to expand even more. "Is there more?" He said. "Yes. We were there several hours. I can only remember the high points." "Tell me." He said, and he returned his mouth to my nipple. "Well, we both had to recover. We kissed a lot. Let our hands go free to explore and caress each other. I always loved that part when I fucked my previous boys. Just the touch and hand travel to confirm the construction of maleness. There was nothing about Ken's body to set him apart, particularly. He was just a new and different male. A man. If we talked, and I'm sure we did, I can't remember a word we said. Yes I can. He told me over and over how beautiful I was. What a marvelous, sexy woman I was. I loved hearing that I was a marvelous sexy woman. An eighteen year old girl hearing a mature man say that. A mature man who had given me the most powerful fucking I had ever had to that point. Turning me into a marvelous sexy woman. I felt triumphant in my newly discovered sexy woman status. Discovering the real meaning in the joy of sucking a cock. My ankles over a man's shoulders for the first time, bent double, my pussy a pure receptacle for his plunging cock. I was a marvelous sexy woman." "Good God, Sondra! Yes. Oh yes you are. The most beautiful, marvelous, sexy woman on earth. My wife. My love." My finger was back on my clit. The waves were rolling again. I wanted to cum, but I also wanted to hold off. I wanted this wild sharing with my husband to last forever. "I sucked his cock again. I could taste my dried juice on his cock. He got very hard again. He did something else that was a first for me...." "What? Tell me...." "Doggy style. I had never done that before. He arranged me on my knees, my head on my crossed arms on the sheets, my ass up high and offered to him. He stood on the floor behind me. I had never known that position of utter submission to a man. On my knees, my ass high to be taken. I could actually feel the air in the room kiss my exposed anus. My pussy was sopping wet with his cum and my own juice. He pushed his cock into me and began his deep, long stroke fucking. He lasted a long time. And I lost it again. Totally lost myself in the experience. Loving it. Really, really loving it." And I was lost in my memory. Reliving it. My finger on my clit out of control. Jamie was in his own grip of lust, his breathing a struggle, lost as I was in my memory, sharing it with me. "And you know what, Jamie?" "What? Tell me, tell me!" "I had my first recognition of that slut capacity every woman has buried inside her. And I was only eighteen. On my knees, him standing behind me, no eye contact, nothing but physical, sexual, nerve endings sensation, my pussy a vessel for his plunging cock. I was a woman and a slut for that time, and his cock plunging in and out of me was all that mattered. Nothing else in the world mattered at that time. And he fucked me a long time and I begged for it faster and harder." I let go. My flying finger on my clit took me there. To that peak, where the volcano of pleasure erupted and over flowed the core of me. I screamed. So did Jamie. Even in the throes of my orgasm I was aware Jamie had his too. My hand jerked him off like it was on automatic pilot. We came together. We momentarily lost consciousness, together. Sex sends us soaring up to the heavens, and we float back down. "Wow!" "Jesus. I think I made a mess." His cum was on my belly and breasts. I smeared it like lotion on my skin. I stretched. I giggled. I said "Wow!" again. "I'll get a towel." "Don't. Let's shower together." We showered and soaped each other. I fondled his soft cock, and balls. He inserted his long fingers into my pussy, wiggled them about. We kissed. We toweled dry. We returned to bed. We lay on our backs, still in a daze. "Wow," I said once more, "that was a hell of a trip we took. Did you enjoy it as much as I did?" "I think I did. Sorry for the mess." "Please. Don't apologize. I loved your mess. That was a first, you know, cuming outside my body. I loved smearing it on me like a lotion." "Everything about it was a first. I don't know what came over me. Why I was so erotically enflamed by hearing you describe that man fucking you." Jamie had come all the way down, and he was subdued, and more. I hugged him to me. "Oh baby. Do you feel guilty because you were so erotically enflamed?" "Yes. A bit. More than a bit." "Don't. Please don't. I was just as erotically enflamed by telling you. The greater your excitement grew, the more I wanted it to grow. I don't feel any guilt at all. We truly shared my experience. You were with me all the way. That is good, all good. There is nothing wrong with either of us." "I know that....." BUT. The unspoken 'but," "still," "however..." I left it alone. For another time. "Let's sleep on it." I said. I kissed him good night. "My beautiful Sondra. Light and love of my life." He whispered. We lay awake. Sleep wouldn't come. Too much brain activity. After ten minutes or so, Jamie said, "Did you fuck him again?" "No. That one time only. He was my coming out party. My debutant ball. No pun intended." Jamie laughed. I was glad to hear his laugh. "Quite a ball it was." "Indeed it was. My learning curve arced up high. In a matter of weeks I went off to the U. There were other men in store. My age group." "Several of them." "Yes. Several. Maybe a dozen, if I had to make a guess. You assumed this." "Of course. No specific number, but I knew you were experienced. In college, did your learning curve reach higher?" "Not really. It sort of leveled off. Though there were occasional spikes, so to speak. I acquired a measure of expertise in cock sucking." "Lucky me." "Now only for you, my love." "And... The other spikes?" "Nothing outrageous. No groups. No public displays. No girls. I had an opportunity once, but not enough interest or curiosity to follow through. Did you ever, you know, with a boy? Or man?" "It that a serious question? Never. The thought has never crossed my mind." "An idle question. I never once wondered if you had. I love this opening up, Jamie. For some reason we never got around to this before. I like this, this exposure. Ask me more questions." "Well, the spikes, plural. Cock sucking expertise accounts for one." "Let me think..... I suppose slut release accounts for all the rest. There were times when that happened. Usually with a guy I wasn't all that emotionally involved with. When his cock in my mouth, or banging my pussy was all I cared about. The boy, who he was, his personality, kinda went out the window. Only his cock mattered. That was almost always the case when they did me from behind. Are you disgusted to learn your proper professor wife was a slut?" "Au contraire. I'm thrilled to learn you were sometimes a slut. And are still a slut with me, when the mood is right. The simple fact is, your past experience is broader than mine." I silently agreed with him. I taught him some things. But he was capable and a fast learner. "It might have been. Unless there are more than the four girls you told me about." "Just them. Which didn't work out, thank God." "Lucky me. This is so good, Jamie. What we are doing tonight. I love it. Why did we wait so long?" "Don't ask me. Now I'm ready for sleep. Work day tomorrow. Good night my love." "Good night my love." ****** A seed was planted that night. It took a while for that seed to germinate, sprout and grow up to a beautiful flower. Eventually it did. But first we had to reach a plane of intimacy, trust, personal exposure, love and caring that was higher than the intimacy and trust plane we already had and took for granted. Both of us getting so turned on by my telling of fucking another man launched us into uncharted waters. We had to get our bearings, find out where we were, where we wanted to go, co-captains of our very own brand new ship. The next day I was still on a giddy high from where our serendipity trip had taken us. A trip to the dark side of the moon, to find bright lights shinning there. When Jamie came home that night, I tried to act casual, but I couldn't stop smiling like the cat that got the cream. "That was a wild trip we took last night." "Yes," Jamie said, "it was. Maybe too wild." That caught me by surprise. Jamie was riddled with obvious discomfort, which pushed my giddy high over in a corner. "Too wild? Why? In what way?" "I don't understand what happened to me. My response to your story. All those vivid details. My almost spontaneous orgasm just from hearing you give all those details. What kind of husband would do that? Am I some kind of pervert?" I saw it all, intuitively, and with broader knowledge than Jamie possessed. He was not well versed in the mysteries of human sexuality. He wasn't a prude by any means, and neither of us believed in any religion. His whole adult life was a grueling grind of academics. B.S., MBA, CPA, Law degree, large chunks of studying tax law. His first job. Breaking out to start his own firm. He was very much a sexual man and loved sex with me. But the wide world of sexual variety, not to mention deviance, just never filtered into his world so densely packed with more important concerns. I had no such blocking filters. I had fucked more men than he had fucked women. I knew more than he did, by experience and second hand knowledge in printed sources always flying around, and girl talk so infamous when women get together and let their hair down. I saw all that, and analyzed it, in mere seconds. I put my arms around my husband. "No, no, no, no. Oh Jamie. You are not a pervert. You are not a freak. Please don't feel guilty. You are the perfect husband and you are a perfect man." He gave me a squeeze of gratitude for my sincere praise. But he was still "out there" in his separate space. "It's so.... Unnatural. If some man made sexual moves on you I would beat him half to death. But last night. I no longer know just who in the hell I am!" "Pour us some wine, Love. Let's talk." He uncorked a bottle of red. His hand shook as he poured. He handed me my glass and followed me into the living room. He sat on the sofa, but I took a separate chair. The situation was delicate. I went into professorial mode, like I would with a troubled student. But I was counseling my husband. The man I loved. Whose delicate feelings were exposed and vulnerable. "What exactly troubles you, Jamie, about last night? What we shared so completely and deeply." "I worry about getting so excited, not having any control over that excitement. I worry about what you might think of me." "Oh my Love. I was just as blown away as you were. Did that make you think of me as some kind of tarnished woman, some brazen hussy you never imagined?" "Of course not! I... You can never be such a thing. You are the perfect woman I married. Nothing can ever change that. I just wonder how I now seem to you." "You don't seem anything to me. You are, Jamie. You are the man I fell in love with and married and joined my life with. You are my husband and I am the happiest wife that ever married a man. From the time we first met, up to this very moment, I have shown you all I'm saying, haven't I?" "Yes you have. In countless different ways." "Last night, then, was just another one of those ways. I honestly have no idea what made me say what I did when we saw that motel up on the hill side. It just popped out. I had no scheme in mind when I began to describe all those lurid details of my debutant ball." Jamie couldn't conceal a little smile at the euphemism I brought back up. "But I was aware, when your erection and other response made clear your unexpected excitement, that we were sharing love in brand new way for the very first time. Didn't you feel that too?" "Yes. I did. I felt closer to you, an intense new closeness that, well, blind sided me." "And so did I! The same intense new closeness, a wild and crazy new way of joining, sharing ourselves with each other. Any shame or guilt attached to that sharing we did is... it has no place. It demeans us. We are husband and wife. We love each other. We ARE to each other, and to no one else. Your uncontrollable excitement at hearing about Ken fucking me way back when, gave me an unspeakable thrill of sharing with you. Really unspeakable. Meaning I really don't have the words to describe my thrill. Me, a PhD. Professor of literature." Jamie laughed. I laughed with him. The tension of his inner turmoil was relaxing, seeping away. But not all gone. Not yet. "I can't shake this thought of kinky perversity. A sickly weakness. My crazy hard on. Getting so excited at hearing your story. Visualizing the actions." "I was equally excited and thrilled to tell you. Loving you by telling you. Am I a kinky pervert? Cursed with a sickly weakness?" "No. No way. But your thrill, well, that is totally different." "Different? In what possible way? My thrill in telling, your excitement in hearing, different sides of the same coin. That's all. That serendipity coin that spun in the air and landed on both of us." Jamie stared into my eyes. His trained mind considering my words the way he would scan columns of figures, looking for logical structure, looking for the bottom line. "I'll tell you something you never thought of." I said. His look became very attentive. "What?" He said. "Did you know the number one fantasy of most married men is another man fucking their wives?" "Hell no I didn't know that. How do you know that?" "Reading. Eclectic reading. Something women do more than men. Our Women's Magazines. Other sources. Psychology studies in sexuality. Surveys. The expectation was most married men would have fantasies of their wife with another woman. Clean and sweet. No threatening competition. Not so, as it turns out. The number one fantasy was the wife fucking another man." "Well, for damn sure I've never had a fantasy of another man fucking you!" "I know that. I'm not suggesting you ever did." "What is your point, then?" "My point is, your excitement last night did not isolate you in some shocking, dreadful, category of being. What you experienced, many men, perhaps millions of them, have also experienced. It is very common. You were not outside a large mainstream last night." "That may be. But I know I am not one of them. I have never had a fantasy of another man fucking you. I could easily have a fantasy of killing the son-of-a-bitch if he did." "I believe you. Every word you say." "Then where exactly is this discussion going?" "Straight to your worries about last night. Your worries about the excitement that took control of you. I have no worries. I loved every moment of that intense intimacy of our sharing. Just us. The two of us. I have no guilt at all. And for that reason I want to expunge, eradicate, any lingering guilt you have about letting go and getting completely into the experience. I enjoyed it more than I can say. I want your enjoyment to be the same as mine. Un sullied. Pure erotic excitement, equally shared. Pure husband and wife eroticism. Can you see? If you continue to feel guilty about it, I will feel disappointment that you feel guilty. A minor conflict that certainly won't shake and rattle our marriage. But still something that will be between us. Do you see?" Jamie took a deep breath, slowly let it out with a soft ending puff, a look of concord settling over his face, a capitulation, perhaps. All coddled by the warmth of Eros stroking him with the residuals of our fantastic sharing the night before. He looked at me, a warm and sweet Jamie look that can melt my heart as much as his smile. "Yes, I do see." He took another deep breath, and slowly exhaled. "I can do that." He said. "For you, and for us. It might take a little conditoning, but I can do that. Perverted or not, it was an extremely powerful experience for me, what we did. What I felt. I will have to adapt to that. Your full acceptance of my excitement. That strange, strange way of sharing." I came apart. I rushed to the sofa and sat beside him and hugged him and kissed him and could not stop blubbering "I love you, I love you" over and over. A Loving Wife's Story Ch. 01 To be continued A Loving Wife's Story Ch. 02 During the days that followed I felt an odd buoyant happiness. I could not get that night of our fantasy sharing out of my mind. Such a powerful experience! So new and exciting! Something that came from a round the curve view of a now seedy motel on a hill side. A view I had countless times over recent years, which never triggered a thought of Ken my mature married man lover of a few hours. What ever happened to him, I wondered? I wasn't entirely sure, but I don't think I ever saw him again after that day in the motel. He is probably fat and sloppy now. Maybe bald. So what? His place in my memory was a skilled and confident and manly fucker, and that was dim and faded until I brought it out, gave it some polish, to share with my husband. Share with my husband. That was what I couldn't stop thinking about. For all my self rated sexual sophistication, I was not prepared for that. Is any wife prepared for that? To open up and dive with her husband into her quivering self exposure? Is any husband prepared for that? Would any other husband and wife be as erotically enflamed as Jamie and I were? I had no idea. I did know a new door had opened for us. A new vista. A new world. My thoughts about that new world became scrupulously analytical. Why was it so important to me that Jamie lose all guilt feelings about being so excited by what I told him? The reasons I gave him the next night were still valid in my mind. Full acceptance by both of us that, no matter how alien, his reaction and mine fed each other and created something valuable for us to keep. That value was dependent on Jamie coming to terms with himself and banishing any guilt and self loathing, Any negativity would erode that value I wanted us to keep. And yes, my analytical, and female, mind was also looking ahead. To a repeat. Another serendipity of intimate sharing. Confirming it as a valuable thing for us to keep and enjoy with no reservations. The ramifications of our talk and Jamie's promise to adapt to my full acceptance of his entitlement, as it were, to yield to his enflamed excitement in hearing me describe fucking another man, carried the hint that we could do that again. Any time we both were ready and wanted to. I had to scrupulously bide my time. Allow Jamie to work it out in his mind, at his own pace. I never made any reference to our Red Rooster Inn night that opened a door for us. Our lives followed our routine. His work, my work, best friend companionship, sweet sex with a fresh level of renewed passion. He went down on me more often than before, like he was rediscovering my pussy. He was always very good at that. He became even better. His lips and tongue adoring, even worshiping, my sexual core, having a profound and meaningful communication with it. I sucked his cock with all my self proclaimed and proven expertise, in complete abandon to the joy and adoration and even worship of his beautiful manhood. I was very happy. It was about two months after our door opening night. We were preparing dinner together. Jamie has an interest in and a flair for culinary arts. The truth is he is a far more accomplished cook than me. That was an impressive revelation when we first started dating. An accountant who cooks. I once had a prejudicial bias on the very title "accountant." The word could only invoke a fuzzy image of a non-entity. A soft, pudgy man, very white, who wore horned rim glasses on his nose, who lived in a separate world of paper and numbers, who made no mark on the world outside his desk and office. Jamie destroyed that bias. He was a gorgeous man. Tall, slender and vital. A man with many worldly interests, a zest for living outside his office. We met at a museum exhibition. Another of those serendipitous moments. The Rijkesmuseum in Amsterdam was undergoing renovation, and a large selection of their Golden Age Dutch Art Masterpieces was on U.S. tour. Our museum was one of the lucky stops. I immediately noticed a beautiful man in an expensive and beautifully cut suit. He was a few years older than me. I became aware he was following me. Not stalking, just coincidently drifting along in my wake. My willowy wake. Apologetic smiles were exchanged if one of us blocked the other's view of a painting. Close proximity to read the printed plaques beside a frame. He smelled good. Finally comments, musings exchanged. Telling eye contact. Broader smiles. It can happen that way. A beautiful man following me in my willowy wake, my hips and ass cheeks shifting into willowy womanly gear. Us getting tired on our feet and needing the relief of a juice drink in the attached restaurant. Cheerful conversation. A confident agreement it would be nice to meet again. An exchange of phone numbers. It can happen that way. Jamie courted me, I seduced him. He destroyed forever my prejudicial bias of what an accountant was. He had just started his own business. With all the academic rigors out of the way, his own business gearing up, with time to devote to it, Jamie was looking to marry and settle down. I was in my first year of PhD studies, twenty five years old, finding my more or less random fucks with men un-edifying, relieving an itch but giving satisfaction of limited duration, I too was leaning strongly toward a need to fall in love and marry and settle down. Jamie and I fell in love. A year later we were married. That night as we prepared supper together, Jamie was in an amorous mood. His finger touched and stroked my hair. Touched my cheek. That melting smile of his. I swung my hip to bump him in close passing. He put his hand on my ass and cupped a cheek in his hand, measuring the curve of form and firmness, jiggling it. An amorous mood, delicious and delightful. Husband and wife working together to prepare the evening meal. We went to bed that night to make love. He went down on me, engaging and communicating. He gave me my orgasm, rested a moment, and gave me another one, his tongue working on the hood of my almost too sensitive clit. He mounted and slid his hard cock into me, giving my channel that divine massage. He stopped, lifted up my legs and placed my ankles over his shoulders. He bent me double. That was certainly not a first time. He did that at times, not often, but now and then. "Ahhhh yes." I moaned. "Was that a Red Rooster Inn ah yes?" I smiled at him. I can describe my smile as everything I felt at that moment. We were back. Jamie was back, adapting, wanting to sample again that magic of yielding to those hot thrills that were no longer so forbidding. "It is now," I said, "all for you, to share with you." He closed his eyes and found his rhythm. He fucked me. "You can fantasize me under him if you want. You have my permission. I want you to." He didn't answer. He did suck in a deep hiss of air. His eyes were closed. He fucked me with taut concentration. Faster and faster, harder and harder. I came before he did. A wrenching, gripping, all encompassing orgasm. I shouted out his name. He came in a slamming, convulsive torrent. Grunting and gargling. He collapsed on me, full weight, gasping for air. I hugged his sweaty back, held him tight to me. My man. My love. My heels had slid from his shoulders to rest on his ass cheeks. My strong man. My love. The after glow, the sweet lassitude. "Wow!" Jamie said. "Double wow!" I said. "We did it again, and it was just as good as the first time." "Yes." Jamie said, with no tonal ambiguity at all. "Did you picture him fucking me?" "Quite a bit. Not the full route though. Did you?" "I tried, but it didn't work. You took over. Your cock in me. You and your cock were everything. That, and me concentrating on you imagining him fucking me. That was my prize. Not him. Imagining you imagining him on me and in me. That sent me over the edge. My God did I cum hard! I almost passed out." "So did I. Fantastic!" "You've made it, haven't you my sweet. Adapted. No more doubts or guilt. You are now free to be you. I am free to be me." "I made it this time. The freedom is very exhilarating. I can't say if that is permanent or not. Right now I feel terrific." "We have time. We can work at it. Work? What the hell am I saying? Play. All exhilarating liberated fun play. Sharing. Just allow it to happen when we both want it to happen. No schedule. No requirements. Just let it happen." "I can do that. Right now, for sure, I want to do that. Tonight was damn good. Again." "Oh yes my love. You are there. Where I want you to be. Our two sides of the same coin. Together.... I will rummage in my memory banks. Other memorable men. Good stories to share with you. Stories in a toy box to put on the shelf and take it down and pull out a play thing. Any time we both are in the mood and want to." ****** Life went on. Jamie's new business was growing rapidly. More and more corporate accounts were coming on board, requiring him to hire more employees. After I received my Doctorate, great fortune landed me a position in the same department where I did all my studies. My own career was off and running. Life was good. Sex was good, as always, but flavored with a new spice we avoided remarking on. That toy box on the shelf in the closet. I didn't obsess on the toy box presence, but I did think about it often. Analytical thinking. What exactly was my role in the toy box? What exactly was the value in it for me? My questions were not a prolonged wrestling match with the devil. The answers were already there. Jamie's "erotic enflaming," as he so vividly put it. Why was that so valuable to me? I had no clear and ready answer. It just was, that's all. And there was nothing in my experience or intellectual journeys that offered interpretive guidance. It really, really turned me on that Jamie was so closely attached, almost like he was inside me, while hearing me describe in detail how much I enjoyed fucking and sucking another man. Long before he knew me. But that wasn't all, in all honesty. The fantasy re-enactment involved a real man that fucked me and transported me on that fateful day. He was not a prop. He was real, and made the story real. As much for me as for Jamie. The first independent answer to emerge from my analytical perusing was the clear fact that I thrilled to be on exhibition, mentally, with a real man to give Jamie his thrill as a voyeur, mentally, of me having sex with a real man. No great puzzle, really. That's what it was, and I liked it. I liked it a hell of a lot. Too valuable a liking to let it go. And it did us no harm, really, our two sides of the same coin, in the privacy of our marriage bed. Our next indulgence was several months later. Jamie was amorous. He can be that way at any time, but this time his yen had a slightly different buzz. The sort of buzz any woman can detect in her man without knowing exactly what she is detecting. A "hummmm, let's see where this leads" detection. It led to bed. Jamie in a heightened state of initiative, taking charge. "Have we exhausted the Red Rooster Inn?" I almost gave a shout of glee. He was back! My patience and vigilance to do nothing to guide or manipulate him had paid off. He too had not forgot our toy box on the shelf. How often and intently he thought of it did not matter. He knew it was there, and it no longer frightened him. He was comfortable with it. Tonight he was back, on his own initiative. I gave him a smile of wistful regret. "I'm afraid we might have." But my wistful smile did not close the door. It also had a speculative flicker at the tail end. A flicker that demanded a dramatic pause, as they say in the theater. The dramatic pause of a coy woman. Jamie gobbled the bait. "There was another man. Just as good as Ken was. When I was a young woman in undergraduate." "Just as good as, eh? There's a story in that, then." "But even more sordid, if taken the wrong way." Jamie gave me a frenzied kiss that mashed my lips against my teeth. Almost painfully. "You are a witch. A sexy witch. You know that?" "You want to hear?" "Oh yes. I want to hear. I want to hear it all. Sordid all." He was back, my husband, all the way back in, as was I. Back in our good, fun, and very exciting thing. Exhibitionist and voyeur. We liked it! "It was in a hotel. The Marriott. A real hotel, not a motel. I was there for a seminar on the Romantic Poets." "Apropos." Jamie said. I laughed. Jamie was with me, all the way. "It ended and we all scattered, and I was suddenly alone at loose ends. You know what I mean. So I went into the cocktail lounge and had a sissy drink with rum and a paper umbrella in it. A handsome man took a stool beside me. We struck up a conversation. You know how it goes. He really was good looking. Solid but trim, near forty I guessed. Dressed like a business man. I was dressed in seminar clothes, a simple dress, and a bit rumpled by then." "But a beautiful and ravishing college girl all the same." Jamie declared, keeping the record straight. "A horny college girl. At loose ends. Though I didn't really know I was horny till later." "And what made you aware?" "His hand on my thigh. Two light pats of punctuation on something he said. Too quick to be offensive, but quick touches having a language that needed no translation. A message he delivered to see how it would be received. I was receptive enough. I knew I was in a bar and a handsome stranger was trying to pick me up. He was smooth, skilled and polished, and his intent was packaged in charm, wit and laughter. I hadn't fucked a guy in quite a while." "Horny." "Females can get just as horny as males, you know." "And I always thought it was my wit and charm that won the lady." "In your case that was all required, I have no doubt." I kissed my gorgeous sexy husband to seal the truth of that. Then I went back to the bar. "That night I was horny. I knew it when he put his hand on my thigh again and left it there, and all my response was acquiescence to his gesture. I felt those familiar zippy, zappy erotic tingles. Then he said something very odd. He said, 'A beautiful young college girl. Having to support herself.' "I could make no sense of that. Then the shock of understanding hit me. He thought I was a prostitute on my round. The shock was so outrageous I had no way of dealing with it except to burst out laughing. He was shocked, in the opposite direction. 'Do you think I am a prostitute?' I asked him. "No! Of course not! He said. Denials and protestations came pouring out of him. I grinned and laughed all the while. He knew he had made a hideous blunder. It was cute to watch him squirm, and after a while he started laughing at himself. I informed him, most convincingly I was a real college girl and not a prostitute. I had just concluded a seminar on the Romantic Poets in one of the public meeting rooms. So there. He apologized some more, and replenished our drinks. The whole thing became funny and a bit of fun. No harm done. We both relaxed and loosened up. His mistake made me even more horny. No one had ever taken me for a prostitute before, needless to say. Did I look like one? What on earth would it be like to be one? "He insisted on treating me with dinner. To atone. I accepted, why the hell not? Dinner went well. He was even more charming and generous with two bottles of expensive wine. He made a humble and last apology. I asked him, 'Have you picked up prostitutes before?' He swore he never had. 'Why did you think I was one? Do I look like one?' He swore I was very lovely and wholesome looking. 'Then why?' Hearsay, he said. Other business men travelers. Reports that hookers everywhere were passing themselves off as college girls, if they were young enough. He said he just wanted to clear the air. He apologized yet again. I forgave him, with a smile. "Here is the catch. I was having all sorts of wicked fantasies of actually being a prostitute. What with meeting him at a bar, his hand on my leg, the false if tentative assumption. During dinner I played the temptress, the seductress. He was married, traveled a lot, was lonely living in hotel rooms, even in good hotels like the one we were in. You need a woman I said. Yes I do he said. "We went back to the bar for after dinner drinks. We were cozy and chummy, and well on the way to tipsy. How would a prostitute go about it? That's what I wondered. He put his hand on my thigh, pretty high up. I put my hand on top of his and held it there. We smiled. I was playing the role of a high priced but cool prostitute, enticing, there to please. He was a total stranger and we had spent less than two hours together. He asked if I wanted another drink. I asked if his room had a mini bar. His face took on a glow. He said the room was well equipped. I said it needed to be well guarded. He said what do you mean? With Trojan soldiers, I said, or what ever offers protection. His face beamed. He excused himself and went to the lobby area, promising he would be right back. Demanding I not go anywhere. Wasn't that clever of me, Jamie?" My husband had to think. "Oh. Yes. I see. Trojan soldiers. Very clever. To ask if he had rubbers in his suitcase would have been too, too crude, considering the circumstances." "Exactly. A high priced whore should never be crude. He - for the life of me I can't remember his name now - he was quick on the uptake and went on an errand. He came back with a paper bag in his hand. I put my hand in the crook of his arm and he escorted me out of the bar like we were entering the White House to meet the President. A classy whore can be elegant and haughty, don't think she can't. Here," I said, cupping my breast in offering to Jamie's mouth, "like you did for my first story. "What do you think of your wife as a classy whore?" "An arresting and entrancing vision. A college girl in a self created role on a self created stage." "You got it. You are right there with me, aren't you my sweet. Ah yes...like that. Give my nipple a hard pinch with your fingers at odd times. Surprise me. A flash of quick pain then gentle soothing. Yes, just like that." My fingers were on my clit, doing a leisurely massage. My pleasure nerves came wide awake and began to stretch and wiggle. "You got it. My self created role on my self created stage. Going up in the elevator I imagined myself as a whore with a customer. Trying to imagine what a real one would feel like. I wasn't all that far removed. He was a stranger, but he gave off no threatening or dangerous vibes. In fact he was much more nervous than me. He was a likable stranger, great bod and good looking." Jamie's cock had been in a lurching state, bobbing and weaving, getting its bearings. It suddenly sprang up to full height, on high alert, pulsing with concentrated attention. My fingers gave it tactile praise and assurance that I wanted that response to my story. "When we got in the room we kissed, hot and passionate, tongues licking and spearing. We groped. His hands fondled my breasts, squeezed my ass. I put my hand between us and felt the length and hardness of his cock. Just like a whore would do. We rushed to undress. I stood naked and spread my arms and giggled, and said, 'I'm not a whore, but I have this crazy excitement of feeling like one right now. I am yours to take. Free of charge!'" That made Jamie's cock throb. He gave my nipple a just enough painful pinch. "He was like a little boy at his first birthday party. More gifts than he could absorb all at once. I lay on the bed while he emptied the bag on the dresser. A tube of lubricant was with the condoms. We said nothing about it. I lay with my legs slightly cocked and spread wide, my fingers teasing my nipples. Like a whore waiting to service. I loved the rush of doing that. My pretend role. Him a stranger, for real. But I felt safe. And very slutty." Jamie shuddered and moaned. He was seeing it all in his mind. And I wanted so much for him to see just that, have that intense forbidden thrill of watching his wife with another man, his wife as a then young college girl play like whore in a hotel room on a bed with her legs spread wide to welcome a stranger. I shuddered and moaned with him. We were as one in our special thrill. A Loving Wife's Story Ch. 02 "We made love. I was his pretend whore in my mind. Pretending he had paid me a wad of money and could do with me whatever he liked. It was a fantastic opportunity for me to do that. Something I had never given a single thought about before. But everything about our meeting, to end up on that bed that night, conspired to put that wild notion in my mind and I seized it and went for the ride. What do you think of that my darling husband? That your Sondra was capable of doing such a thing?" "I think my beautiful Sondra is the sexiest woman in the world." I almost burst with pleasure on hearing him say that. My clit almost burst from a tremendous surge of pleasure sparks. "He put his hand behind my head and pulled it down to suck him. I would do anything he wanted. And he did have a very nice and exciting cock. Average man cock, but lovely and powerful. Most all of them are. Most all I've had, anyway. I sucked him deep and loved doing it. He loved it even more and gasped out genuine praise that I was the best cock sucker he ever had. That pushed me even deeper into my whore fantasy. The label being spoken out like that. Me, Sondra, a cock sucker. I felt great pride in being the best cock sucker he ever had! But I didn't want him to cum in my mouth. He made love to my breasts. His fingers knew what to do on and in my pussy. He didn't rush. He kissed me a lot. I melted into the pleasure of sex with a man, and pretending to be a whore with a customer made the pleasure all the more exciting. He saw me watch with great interest as he rolled the condom on his cock, my knowing he would put it in me, my legs apart to receive him, lying on my back on the bed. Relaxed, but so highly sexually aroused. Playing the whore he owned for the night. Exchanging my body for his money. The drinks and the dinner being payment enough." Jamie moaned, seeing every detail in his mind. "There was nothing super duper about his fucking me. He was just a man, an energetic and capable one. And most of all a new one. That is the benefit of promiscuity, if a dozen men before you counts as promiscuous. And I suppose it does. A new man, different. Shape and construction. Movement and rhythm. A new cock and the way he uses it. A different man smell. Different man sounds. My new and different man fucked me and the pleasure exploded and thrashed us both. I thrust my pelvis up in timing with his thrusts in and out of me. And I forgot about being a whore and dove into that state I told you about. That spike of just letting all go and being a slut. A woman surrendered to a man and his hard cock in her, thrusting and taking her, using her, driving her almost insane with pleasure. "Oh God Jamie. Put it in me. Fuck me. Now!" He put it in me. He fucked me with frenzied lust, his wife the slut. Our joined abandon to lust was almost savage. I thrust my pelvis up to meet his like a practiced prostitute, like a loving wife who was also a slut. We came at the same time. Lust! Desire! Union! Rapture! We were spent and in a stupor. He pulled out and flopped on his back. I rolled over on my stomach, feeling those after fuck tingles hop skip and jump all about. Feeling that deep relaxation, that sweet contentment. We needed our private time and we took it. "That was glorious." I said. "That was stupendous." Jamie said. After a while he said, "And when the man was finished with his college girl whore she counted her money and left." "Not right away." I said, with a toying, teasing lilt. Juicing him with anticipation. Indirect. Devious. Using the wiles every woman is born with. "Sooooooo?" Janie finally said, the anticipation stretched to the breaking point. "I had to praise him, like any whore worth the title would do. I said you are good - Kirk! That was his name! It just now came to me - I told him he was a wonderful lover. He told me I was too. We snuggled and caressed. We rested. We took turns going to pee and snuggled some more. Happy. He made a quick recovery, wanted some more. He caressed my ass a good while, dipped a finger in the crease, rubbed the tip on my rose bud. The sensation was surprising, but it felt nice. I liked it." Jamie's hand went to my ass. His long finger snaked in, stimulated my rose bud. "Kirk didn't waste any words. He came right out with it. I want to fuck your ass. I froze. I knew what anal sex was, with no experience of it of course. I had the usual idle and passing curiosity of what it might be like. But no man had ever bluntly said to me I want to fuck your ass. No man had ever used his finger to deliberately rub my hole before. I was frozen. That's why I didn't shout HELL NO. I did manage to say I had never done that before. He said it would be a very special experience for me, then." "So, he was your first." Jamie said. "My first and only until I met you. You were the second man to fuck my ass, and the only one I want there. There will never be a third man." "No," Jamie said with finality, "there won't be." He stimulated my rose bud which now belonged only to him. My ass made a little lift to his finger. "I asked Kirk, didn't it hurt a lot? He said putting it in would hurt me some, but not terribly. And the pain would quickly go away and I would like it a lot. I asked how he knew all that and he said with his wife. She greatly enjoyed it from time to time and he loved it. So that accounted for his buying the lube along with the condoms. He had big plans in mind. And that put me right back in my whore fantasy. It occurred to me Kirk had his own fantasy of me as a whore. Though I made perfectly clear I was not. But sitting alone at a bar, his hilarious blunder, laughing it off, dinner, my hand over his on my leg, the way I pointed us in the direction of his hotel room.... College girl as whore made an easy blend. College girl as whore was my fantasy because of situational opportunity and the sheer novelty of it. And it resulted in a new blasting thrill. Getting fucked in the ass for the first time was another situational opportunity, for even a greater blasting thrill for a whore and slut set free. I chose to let him do it. In my whore fantasy, after all, he had paid for it." "Did it hurt?" Jamie said. "More than he said it would. I didn't know what to expect. All the techniques of easier entry I had to learn with you. But the pain was quickly replaced with pleasure, just as he said. You know all I felt. I have told you what your cock in my ass does to me. It wasn't exactly the same with him, but close enough. With you the excitement and pleasure has the intensity of us loving each other. With him it was the intense excitement of playing the slut whore.... How big and hard your cock is! Put it in me again. In my pussy." I rose up on my knees and put my head on the sheets, the posture of presenting submission. The portrait of a whore and a slut. He got behind me on his knees and speared me. My fantasy was entirely of Jamie fantasizing all the words I had spoken to him, all the scenes and searing images flashing in his mind. My husband behind me, fucking me, his imagination on fire with images of me as young woman experiencing the depraved excitement of playing a whore, being ass fucked the first time. And the power of both our fantasies blasted us, lifted us off planet earth and shot us into another space. ****** The next morning we sat at the breakfast table with finish up coffee cups in hand. We gazed at each other in rose tinted wonder. It was a gaze into the depths of each other, seeing shades of inner person never fully examined before. "Last night," I said, "was out of this world. I was out of this world. And you... What a powerful lover you are. Your cock took me out of this world." "Your story was potent fuel." "I loved telling it to you. I loved the way the telling fueled your flames. We both have our private and very healthy sexualities to do that. To share in that way. And I am ecstatic that we do. I love it! We have a toy box all our own, just for us and no one else. No one else will ever know the games we play." "For sure! This is a freedom I have never known. Never imagined." "The freedom to have such a fierce erection, be so erotically enflamed by my stories of other men." "Yes." He said, with opened eyed pellucid honesty. "It's the same freedom for me. One I never imagined before. I have never opened up this way with any of my female friends, and we are known to share our most intimate thoughts and feelings. Only with you. God I love our new toy box!" "I love my new Scheherazade." "Oooooh I like that. Being your Scheherazade. That's what I will be. Entertain you. Enthrall you. Not to save my life. Because I get such a ravishing sexual thrill by entertaining you, enthralling you that way. A win-win for both of us. However, I don't have a thousand and one lovers to draw on." "There's still ten left of your dozen." "Yes. But after Ken and Kirk they are, well, maybe run of the mill. I will have to dig deep into my memories." "Would you like a switch? Me tell you a story of me with a woman?" I froze. The same freeze as when Kirk said he wanted to fuck my ass. A mass of conflicting emotions showering on me with the weight of gravel dumped from a truck. Would I like to hear my husband tell me how good it was when he fucked a previous woman? I froze. No, I wouldn't like that at all. I am a woman for God's sake! Our men belong to us! A hussy even giving a wink to our man and we are ready to claw her eyes out! A story of Jamie fucking a previous lover in our toy box? No and hell no. It didn't fit. But how could I say that to Jamie without appearing absurd? His off the cuff question was a bomb shell. He knew it was. "Well... I donno... Is that something you want to do? Be a male Scheherazade?" "Not particularly. Just thought I would toss out the option. See if you wanted it." "You felt no jealousy at all last night, did you. Nor any this morning." "No I didn't. You know what your stories do to me. There is no point in hiding that crazy excitement. That you want me to have." "Yes. We are together in that. Equal sharing. But reversing that. I don't think I could escape stabs of jealousy. I don't think I could play on your side with the same freedom of joining in that you do. Maybe it's just a female thing, one of the many things that make us different from males. Why you don't expect us to always be logical." Jamie's smile was warm with love. "I will give it a try, though, if you want to be my entertainer and enthraller." "We can skip that. If it made you uncomfortable, the whole thing would be a waste." "You were very uncomfortable at first. When I told you my Red Rooster Inn story. But you adapted to that alien excitement and accepted it as wonderful and fulfilling and right for you. Perhaps I would do the same. Eventually. Now, in all honesty, I think it would be very difficult for me. I don't know what else I can say." He stood and pulled me up to hold me in his strong arms and kissed my lips. He looked into my eyes with that clear eyed pellucid honesty derived from our toy box sharing. "In all honesty? I prefer you be the Scheherazade. I want to be entertained and enthralled by you and your rich experience. My stories would be tepid compared with yours. And I don't come close to your verbal skills of description. We will go with what we've got. You are best on your side of the coin, me on my side. It give us what we both want." I melted into him, relieved and jubilant. His cock grew hard against me. "Done." I said. ****** After Jamie left for his office, his words sang in in my head. "It gives us what we both want." The truth, succinct and controlling. A truth that made me giddy with a power I didn't fully comprehend. I began a research on the internet, hoping to find other "Scheherazades," see how they compared with me, see what they knew that I didn't. Every search question took me straight to porn sites. My exposure to porn was limited. I had seen a couple of films, which were half arousing and half boring. The porn sites my search turned up were worse than boring. They were utterly repulsive. But they did provide information, reliable or not, about areas I was only vaguely aware of. BDSM. Fetishes. Gays and Lesbians. Swinging. Group sex. I skimmed those categories and could not find in them the slightest reflection of me and Jamie. There seemed an endless list of sites with so called erotic stories. I picked only husband and wife stories. They were poorly written and were obviously fantasies. But they did bring out what I had told Jamie earlier, the number one fantasy of married men was another man fucking their wives. But none of those stories echoed my Jamie and his Scheherazade. Infidelity? Not possible. Humiliation? Even less possible. Wife fucking another man with husbands full knowledge and loving consent? I had to think about that one. Another man with Jamie's full knowledge and consent was in fact the content of our Scheherazade fun, "Giving us what we both want," as Jamie had concluded, his cock hard against me as we hugged in the kitchen. And where exactly did his conclusion and hard cock put me? I gave up on the internet and went to the University library. If there were other Scheherazades out there, I would find them on the shelves. I didn't find a single one that matched me. The scholarly profiles revealed many women who exerted sexual power over their husbands in a variety of ways. But none of them seemed to use that power for the end I did, to attain their own singular erotic excitement in giving their husband that equally singular erotic excitement in fantasizing her with another man. There were many, many profiles of men something like Jamie. Those who had and greatly enjoyed thoughts of other men with their wives, at least. But the variety and divergence of those thoughts, and acting on them, was great. Most had elements of stories portrayed on the porn sites. BDSM submission, or almost. Threesomes with another man were popular. I wondered if that notion would have any appeal to Jamie? At that point I could wonder anything. Jamie with me for real, in the same room, on the same bed, watching another man fuck me for real. It might possibly work out. But I had grave doubts. Because I had grave doubts I could ever really let go with another man with Jamie there, let go and provide him with the full free range of mental thrill my hearsay stories gave him. The truth is, the notion of a threesome with another man had only mild appeal to me. One case study gave me a hell of a jolt. The husband gave his wife permission to go out and fuck men of her choice, to be rewarded by her returning and telling him all the details. They both got what they wanted. The sharing when she returned to her husband. In essence, what they did is what Jamie and I had begun to do. Except, instead of going out to have another man I go into my memory for one and share all the details with him. He gets what he wants by hearing, I get what I want by telling. But the wife in the case study got more. She got all the excitement of meeting and seducing a new lover too. That couple also had professional careers, high income, appearing typically conservative in all ways. And her lovers were widely separated over time. And by the self reports, their marriage was unusually strong and healthy. That case study gave me a hell of a jolt. I didn't tell Jamie about the research I did. There was no particular reason I should have. I did it primarily to construct, shape, give infrastructure to my delicious role as Scheherazade. I also wanted a deeper understanding of Jamie's sexual psyche, why the visions I gave him of another man having me were so intensely arousing for him. I could not find a pat answer to either question. Why I was so eager to give him his intense arousal, and why my giving was so powerfully effective for both of us. To be continued... A Loving Wife's Story Ch. 03 Our lives went on in a routine fashion. Jamie had to travel at times to various cities where his corporate accounts were. Usually, two or three of his staff went with him. Usually to review account procedures and keep all within IRS approval. Sometimes he would be away for a week or more. I missed him terribly when he was gone. Sometimes when he was away we would have phone sex. The phone sex was a Scheherazade transference. I would tell him in detail how I was dressed, in a chair, on the sofa, lying on the bed. How horny I was for his touch, his mouth, his cock. What my hands were doing to relieve the ache. Actually bringing myself off with my breathing and words reaching him over the phone. Listening to his voyeuristic breathing as I exhibited, hearing the sounds of his jerking himself off. For one business trip phone sex play, I invented a scene. A pizza delivery boy scene. So trite and silly I'm half ashamed to reveal it. What it does reveal is the solidity of our trust and comfort had reached a point where I could deliver my story as though it had really happened. With no "I've been a bad girl" apology or begging for forgiveness. I was Scheherazade telling my husband how I had fucked the pizza delivery boy, in the same manner and style of telling him how I had fucked Ken and Kirk. For my benefit and for Jamie's. It was a new twist, and a very exciting one. When Jamie was back home, he had me tell him again. He asked many specific questions about exactly how my tryst began and progressed. My invention went into high gear. Keeping it plausible and workable as fantasy demands. The boy was a college student, a very handsome lad, strong and healthy looking. My husband was away and I was horny for sex. I had deliberately dressed in a wrap with waist tie, with no bra or panties. When I answered the door chime I invited the boy in to bring the pizza to the kitchen counter. My wrap was loose and my tits jostled and were almost totally exposed. Jamie listened with round eyes and tight breathing. My fantasy boy fell into his appointed role as any strapping boy loaded with testosterone would do. I offered him a tip. He fucked me on the sofa. He left with a huge smile on his face. Jamie had a huge smile on his face, and he fucked me hard and long on our bed. We rested and sighed and cuddled. We talked. "Are you happy I told you about fucking the pizza boy?" "Yes. A most enjoyable story. Fucking the pizza boy and NOT telling me would make me very unhappy, to say the very least." "Of course! That will never happen. Telling you all about it is now our special thrill we share. Pizza boy. Who ever might come along." "Your past lovers." "Yes. They are still waiting in the wings. Tell me, which of my three stories turned you on the most?" "Hard to say. They all had pretty much the same effect. The pizza boy was too spur of the moment to be up to par with Ken and Kirk." "That's the problem with quickies. They don't have the yeast, the fermentation, the bubbling to turn a fast fuck into a fine wine of story telling." We both burst out laughing. The utter silliness of my hyperbole was whipped cream on our pretense that the pizza boy really happened. But it pleased our sweet tooth for perverse indulgence. Me as eager exhibitionist, my husband as addicted voyeur of my sex with other men. "No more quickies, then." I said. "Scheherazade will hone her craft. Create tales that fully enthrall you, from start to finish. That's what it's all about. Building your erotic fire." ****** Of course, it was also about me building my own erotic fire. I wondered how much Jamie understood that? How my enflaming him was just as enflaming to me? For that matter, did I completely understand it myself? My evolving power as Scheherazade, the flamer. Me as exhibitionist, Jamie as my audience. My inspired creativity for verbal detail of my sex with other men spun like an intricate spider web to snare an evolving fascination in my husband. The more I thought about it, the clearer it became that my sex with other men was the pivot point around which Jamie and I revolved in our naughty but oh so thrilling special game. His sex with other women was pushed far into the back ground, out of sight, by mutual agreement. My sex with other men was the pivot point and our point of focus. My sex with other men was the fuel that enflamed Jamie, and me. So far, the other men were two real lovers from my past, and a fantasy boy. The fantasy boy lacked the intensity of effect the real men had on Jamie. But he did show promise for me. Even a challenge. Fantasy men were in endless supply. I only had to put a keen edge on my imagination to produce an irresistible man that would desire me, court me, break down all my defenses and fuck me. I could certainly do that, drawing on stores of real experience to build an imaginary one. The trick would be me doing the opposite. Being the aggressor with all defenses cast aside. Seducing a fantasy man to fuck me so I could tell my husband all the details. I felt confident I could do that. And I would do it to enrich and increase the heat and passion of the intimate sharing my love and I had seized. There was no rush though. I was satisfied that Jamie was now entirely comfortable with that discovery deep inside him of a mysterious kink he had no idea existed before. I was convinced millions of men had the same kink, of what ever shape and degree, of being ravished by the vision, mental or actual, of another man fucking their wives. Out of the norm, no question, but apparently not unnatural. No, that kink was only one of many in the variety of human nature. And his kink was the mirror of my kink on the other side of the coin. Oh yes. I had also discovered a kink buried deep in me I never knew existed. Joyful sex with other men in my mind for the single purpose of thrilling my husband. Our toy box on the closet shelf to take down and play with any time we both needed that play. Needing that play was a sexual dynamic in our married love that I thought long and hard about. Did we in fact really NEED it? A question not answered by a simple yes or no. I initiated it that first time, on out of the blue impulse, and it was a smashing success. Though in the aftermath Jamie had to wrestle with his conscience and demons of threat, and win the contest. Later he brought up the dynamic to prod me into more revelation. And that was a smashing success with no negative aftermath at all. Was that something he needed? Was my eager and willing response to his subtle prod something I needed? At that time of our personal convergence, I thought yes, it was, an erotic need we both had to indulge. But it was a need we controlled. It didn't control us. That was very important to me. I wanted Jamie to have big hard erections and fuck me on desire for me alone. Not with ever present fantasies of some other man fucking me in his mind. I think he did so. Not that I could crawl into his head to be certain. But our sex was free and joyous and altogether united in husband and wife love. There was a thread running through our sexual union that was tied to our toy box, I had no doubt of that. But it was like a nerve branch in a body that only heightened peripheral sensation of our love making. It was like the visions I had given to his mind of other men fucking me had made me even more desirable and valuable to him. And that was very good for both of us. As days rolled on I often thought of our game, and various ways and styles of approach to enthrall and erotically excite Jamie. I was drawing blanks in the memory banks of my previous lovers. After Ken and Kirk, no one stood out. They were a blur of couplings that I no doubt greatly enjoyed at the time, but over time had difficulty remembering. I needed to hone my craft to suit our needs. One afternoon I called Jamie and suggested we eat out. Have a night on the town. Meet at Mario's and have Italian. Jamie was all for it. We met and had a fine meal of pasta and scampi with Chianti. Jamie kept telling me how nice I looked. His praise made me feel wonderful. I had gradually modified my wardrobe to alter the professional look of Dr. Andrews. Dresses and skirts and blouses most complimentary to my willowy frame. Some were snug, others whispery and free flowing. All solicited notice of my breasts and buttocks without blatant accent. Their effect was to make me look like a sensual woman, who was unaware of her sexual appeal to men. I was aware, of course. All women are. That is why we take such pains in selecting our clothing and adornments, our make up and hair styling. We want to be seen as sexually desirable by all men. The entire male species. Including our husbands. My sexual desirability was soon apparent to male colleagues at the University, who gave me second looks, prolonged looks. Even apparent in my boy students, who slouched in their desks and gazed at my body when I walked or stood before the class. I felt beautiful and sexy and desirable. And much of that feeling was generated by the game my husband and I had invented for our mutual pleasure and had played when we needed to. That night at Mario's, I wore a rust colored sheath dress of clingy knit that caressed my legs and the curved swell of my ass. The top went up to the neck at a circle hem, but the fabric was so clingy conforming it suggested I was braless. Jamie was dazzled. Many other men in the dining room were too. I saw their glances. When the question of after dinner drinks came up, I suggested the Marriott. Jamie's eyes did a dance to find expression. They told me that at that moment we were thinking the same thing. "Bring back memories?" Jamie said. We sat in a booth at the dark edge of the Marriott lounge. "Vivid memories." I said. "A girl is not likely to forget her first, and last, time of being a whore." "What stool were you on." "See the beer tap handles on the left side? One of those stools in front. Right next to that handsome man, best I remember." "Handsome man... You think he is handsome?" "From this distance, in dim lighting, yes, he looks quite handsome to me. You don't agree?" "That is something I never thought about before. A man being handsome. He seems well built, no gut, neat casual dress. No tattoos thank God. So I suppose he is handsome. Interesting you think he is." "That piques your interest, does it? Well, I do think he is handsome. Very trim and masculine. Quite a bit of sex appeal in fact." "More so than Kirk, when you were whore for a night?" I arched my brow and studied the man on the bar stool. "Well, yes, that man looks much sexier that Kirk. From this distance, mind you. I would have to sit beside him and feel his hand on my leg to really know." "Or," Jamie said, "go to his room, open your legs wide for him to fuck you." "That would certainly answer the question whether or not that man is sexier than Kirk. My God, Jamie. When you said that my cunt juice flooded. Feel." I led his hand under my dress and his finger rubbed the satin crotch bulge. "You are soaking wet." My cunt was wet. Most times I say my pussy to Jamie. Sometimes a deeper feeling compels me to say my cunt. When Jamie said "go to his room, open your legs wide for him to fuck you" the feeling was very deep and powerful and I could only say my cunt. "I know. My cunt is soaking wet. Rub harder." I parted my legs and my dress bunched high on my thighs. I slumped and my ass slid towards the seat edge. "Oh that feels good. Soooo good." My breathing became pants. I heard myself softly moan. My eye lids fluttered and through the slit of vision I saw the sexy man on the bar stool had turned and was looking straight at us. I had no doubt he knew what Jamie's hand was doing, and the pleasure his hand gave me was plain to see. The sexy man at the bar watching me feel the pleasure of Jamie's finger on my clit shot me with a searing thrill and I reached orgasm and shuddered. After a short while, I removed Jamie's hand and sat up in my seat. "Oh Jamie, Jamie, I came, right here in public, for all the world to see." Jamie automatically glanced about our lounge world to see who had seen. "The man at the bar you think is so sexy must have seen. He smiled and raised his glass to me, like saying 'cheers'." "I know. I saw through half closed eyes he was watching me come from your finger work. He gave me a big smile." "And how did that make you feel?" "Exposed. A strange extremely exciting thrill. I felt like a slut whore once again." I laughed. "What is there about this place? This is only my second time being here, and once again I feel that sexual liberation that prostitutes must have. Maybe if you fuck me on the table top?" "Table top? Let's not go over the top." Jamie said, with a tone so serious it might have been mock serious. "Bringing you off hidden behind the table cloth is one thing. Public fucking... No, that is not us." "It certainly isn't me." I said. "Even when I was playing the whore all those years ago my sense of modesty and decency ruled I wait until I had my man in his room before I dropped all modesty and decency." "And fucked his brains out." "And fucked his brains out. And years later told you every detail. And saw those details enflame you and give you a monstrous hard on." "Yes. I haven't forgotten." "No you haven't." I put my hand on his leg and move it up to feel his cock and rub it. It instantly swelled to a monstrous hard on. "That is one of the reasons you are the most magnificent lover a wife could ask for." I leaned in to kiss him. A hot, slutty kiss. As liberated as a whore on duty. "My nipples are hard." He looked down on them. "They stick out like two finger tips under the cloth." "Squeeze them with your finger tips." He did, without thinking about it, making a little moan when my finger tips rubbed the head of his cock in tight captivity in his pants. I kissed him again and breathed against his lips: "Do you like your wife being a whore for the night?" "I love my wife being a whore tonight." "I feel it, I will be, I am... I have to go to the little girls room." The restrooms were situated where I had to walk in the vicinity of the sexy man at the bar to reach them. His eyes were fixed on me, and I walked the walk. Any woman knows what I mean by that. I was willowy Sondra in a clingy sheath dress, and my nipples were erect from the tingle of my husband's fingers pinching them and they projected like tent pole tops. My body and mind was alive with sexual excitation and the freedom of feeling like a whore. My hips swayed, and my buttocks did a rhythmic bounce. Loving wife husband's permission to feel like a whore. That kind of walk. My eyes locked with the eyes of the handsome man sitting at the bar. He had turned his stool to watch me approach. His interest in me was like lines of print streaming from his eyes, his entire body, to form a declaration all around him. A declaration that I was a beautiful, superbly constructed woman, and my body rippled and danced with unrestrained sexuality and potential for a glorious fuck. I wasn't ego tripping. Those thoughts in his head were practically screaming out. There is not an adult woman who has not seen her effect on a man that way at least once, and men are so easy to read. There is not an adult woman who does not feel a flush of worth and pride on stimulating such a reaction in a man. I certainly did. Plus my nipples were still errect and my pussy still tingling from the orgasmic clutch of Jamie's magical finger on my clit. I could not suppress a smile at the sexy man when our eyes briefly locked. A smile that acknowledged the basic, raw, sexual current that washed us both in that fleeting moment. Both of us strangers. Both of us in heat. Things like that can happen. Sometimes with no supporting reference points at all. That night, there was a reference point of my college girl night as whore and slut picking up a man at that same bar, possibly from that same stool, all those years ago. That was why my husband and I were there, with some pre-planing on my part, but no clear script. We had created a new world, my husband and I, and we were exploring new roads and trails in that world with an avid, sometimes feverish interest in our separate but intwined discoveries - my robust capacity to be a total slut and whore, and channel that capacity to Jamie to arouse and excite his mysterious inner core response to that channeling with a liberation that perfectly fitted us both. I smiled at the handsome man, and we exchanged information that proclaimed a hundred statements in that moment - a question, a challenge, possibilities, display, sexual energy sizzling and crackling, and so much more. And then I was past him and my body went on automatic sexual pilot. A wider sway of my hips, an expanded roll of my ass cheeks. All so purely female and instinctive when our minds and bodies have ignited male interest and response. We don't have to think of swaying our hips and jiggling our asses when we walk among men who are sexually aroused by us. It happens all on its own, our bodies saying yes I know, I am aware, and I love this power of being a woman, this power of potential that can harness the energy and power in a man and harden his cock to point at me and me alone, in this crowd, in this moment. My husband too. I was absolutely certain Jamie had his eyes on my swaying hips and rolling ass cheeks. The hot sex pot that belonged to him alone. And I gave my ass a special twist just for him, but with certainty the man at the bar I had exchanged smiles with had his eyes riveted to my ass too. No doubt the bar tender. Every male in the bar. In that instant I was intensely aware of knowledge of the natural power of being a woman, and joyful acceptance of an equally natural flush of feeling like a whore and a slut. The extra bobble of my ass cheeks were saying to all I am a sexy woman, look at me, desire me! As I sat on the commode to pee, my body began to tremble. Strange forces were churning inside me, and I didn't know exactly how to sort them out. Something had happened that night in the Mariott lounge that advanced the game Jamie and I had adopted to a different level. And the good looking man at the bar was an intergal part of it. I had half deliberately and half spontaneously returned Jamie and I to the place of my college girl whore night for a nostalgic revival of the currents of thrill Jamie had experienced when I had told him my story. Also to celebrate the now seasoned acceptence in both of us that my stories of sex with other men was a valuable part of our private lives. I did not imagine such a goodlooking stud would be perched where my "John" had been. I could not have anticipated my response to that stud would have been so sudden. So open. Nor Jamie's response of intrigue. Nor Jamie and I making such a spontaneous exhibition of sexual play for that man to watch. Nor for that man reacting in what seemed to be cheerful applause. Nor for my direct and challenging and offering smile to him when I walked past and swayed my hips and jiggled my ass in a rush of triumph and happiness. Then it hit me in the chest, the understanding that gorgeous man at the bar was not a fantasy pizza boy or a past lover. He was in the here and now, and he would be more than happy to possess me and fuck me. There was no question at all of that. Would I be thrilled to fuck him? A perfect stranger? Yes, I would be. There was no question of that. Then my fantasies knotted in confusion. The man at the bar was naked in my mind, his cock a thing of enormous power and beauty standing high and proud, advancing to me, entering me. And the vivid details arranged themselves in my mind in a most effective presentation to give to Jamie afterward and enflame him with erotic fire. A Loving Wife's Story Ch. 03 I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, lost in jumble of fantasy and reality that made no sense at all. I simply did not know at that moment, as I wiped my pussy clean, where my mind was. There was no rush of feeling like a slut. There was something more telling and mysterious at work. Our game had taken me to a new level of possibility I didn't fully understand, but looked upon with a deep siesure of fascination and expectancy. Because I knew this was something I would have to work out, and carefully analyze and explain to my husband. The signal of sexual readiness in the smiles the man and I exchanged, my teasing him with my ass. The inexplicable motive in my slipping my panties off and putting them in my purse before returning back to the lounge. The first time in my life I had ever done that - walked any where in public without panties underneath my clothes. I felt naked, and the feeling was delicious. The handsome man at the bar was turned my way, as though he had kept constant vigil to see me return. I looked steadily at him as I walked his way. Could he see I had no panties on? Did the fabric outline my "camel toe", the curve of my hips and the crease between the twin globes of my ass? I imagined so, and the way he sipped his drink and eyed my tits and stomach and crotch in a steady gaze made me think he knew I had removed my panties as a gesture of appreciation for his captivated interest in me as a woman, a beautiful, vibrant, sexual woman. A married woman walking toward him with the sultry rythems of a self contained slut and whore. I was flooded with a rush of confidence and power, and juices in my cunt. Maybe that was why the smile I gave the man as I walked past him was so warm and accessible. Maybe that was why I gave a pointed look at his crotch as he sat spread on the stool, his shoes hooked on the circular base of the bar stool. Was there a clear outline of cock and balls bulging under his pants? Nothing particularly noticeable I could see. No male equivilent of the female "camel toe." But I knew only too well how men could surprise. How very little indication of penis size confined in pants can engorge to astonishing length and girth. Anyway, I still had in my mind that image flash as I sat on the commode, of his cock big and high and proud and forceful entering me. That image flash must have transferred from my head to his mind, for the man was suddenly frozen in wide eyed wonder that I had given a prolonged look at his crotch. "What's that big smile all about?" Jamie said. "Because I love being a woman." I said. And smiled at him and kissed his lips. My man. The booth seat felt distinctly different under my panty free bottom. "Woman you certainly are. The woman I love." "Do you like that we came here tonight? To play with the memories of my whore night?" "Yes. I do. You were a wicked girl. Now you are a mature woman and love being one. I love you for both reasons, and I am proud of you for both." I felt like my body was melting on the seat, all from the heat of my husband's love and his pride in my being a woman evolved from a college girl who was a whore for a night in that very same bar. The waitress suddenly appeared and sat two fresh drinks on our table. "Compliments of the gentleman at the bar." She said, and left. Jamie and I both looked at the bar and saw the handsome man raise his glass to us in salutation. Jamie was genuinely puzzled. "Why would he do that?" He said. "Maybe he wants us to invite him to join us." I said. And in that instant our night out, my slutty liberation, my removing my panties, my flash fantasy of the man fucking me was balanced on a razor edge. A part of me wanted Jamie to invite him over, to see what would unfold. Another part shrank from the realization I had gone too far. My smile for the man, my brief but unmistakable display of sexual accessibility, removing my panties in the rest room, twitching my ass just for him. "Does he indeed?" Jamie said. "Is that the way it works nowdays?" "That's my guess." I said. "Do you want me to invite him over?" For a moment I was frozen by indecision and sole responsibility. The electric exctement of possibility streaked in my stomach... what would happen if I said yes, invite him over? I was primed to explore. But Jamie wasn't. He was tagging along behind me in my revival of whore night memories. He did not fully know the extent of my feelings of sexual liberation that night, the sexual signals I had given to the man at the bar who had sent us drinks to signal his wonder if we were that type of couple wanting a threesome, my removing my panties to feel naked as I walk back past him. My husband was not completely with me. I understood things he wasn't aware of. "Good looking as he is, no, I don't think so." I said. "I'm ready to get out of here. Go home and fuck your brains out." To be continued... A Loving Wife's Story Ch. 04 We drove home from the Marriott in our separate cars. I was glad for the separate time. To be alone with thoughts spinning in my mind like cog wheels in some industrial machine. Jamie and I had opened a door to a totally new world for us to travel and explore. Travel and explore in solid security of mutual excitement and trust. Each giving to the other a unique gift of erotic surges that was perfectly fitting for each of us, as one. Not an hour ago, in the lounge of the Marriott, our new world of liberated exploration had presented door number two, like in a television game show, where the stage of already revealed fabulous prizes beckoned temptation to open another door. I had opened it. The door of the hunky man sitting at the bar. I didn't pull the door wide open. Just a crack to take a peek. Just for a glimpse of the shape and color of "what if" possibility. Immersed as I was in bubbling memories of my college girl night of playing the whore in that same bar. My pussy lips still swollen by the massage of my husband's finger. A real live sexy man openly responding to my overflowing sexuality and my body automatically sending him signals of momentary acquiescence and availability. Twitching my ass for him. Having a fantasy flash of his big, beautiful, perfectly sculptured cock spearing me in the toilet stall. Taking my panties off and putting them in my purse to... to be ready for him? To shed all inhibition? For a stranger man sitting at a bar I didn't know and had never exchanged a single word with? Preposterous! But so it seemed anyway. My peek behind door number two left me breathless with erotic zaps and tingles, even though I didn't fully understand what they all meant or even suggested. I wondered what Jamie was thinking alone in his car. Was his cock hard with anticipation of fucking my brains out? I imagined his hard cock. So very lovely and magnificent it is. The magic it does inside me. What it would do for me when we were safely home. In the safe security of our home, in our bond of trust and acceptance. Our toy box on the shelf taken down and opened when I suggested we go to the Marriott. How aware was he that the man at the bar was a brand new toy box for me to open, peek at what the contents might be? Jamie is very intuitive. He knew I had had undergone some form of shape shifting in the lounge, because of the man who smiled at us from the bar, and later brought us drinks. But my husband's intuitive awareness still left him on the edges, not fully engaged in my unguarded response to the man at the bar, and how the effect on me by his hear and now live presence was so vastly different from telling stories of fucking men when I was single, but somehow had almost the same effect. After all, I did put my panties in my purse. I did have a flash fantasy of that man fucking me, and on the periphery of that flash fantasy was my eager and obligated thrill of revealing to Jamie every detail of the stranger fucking me. What if I had insisted, yes, do invite the man to join us, let's see what he has in mind...? "Shall we have a night cap?" "Yes. It has been a very fun outing. Let us night cap it." "What if I really had fucked you on the table top?" "I would have bucked against you so hard I might have thrown you to the floor." "You might have at that. You were hot to trot tonight." "Every toy box night makes me hot." "So. You brought the toy box containing Kirk and your college girl whore night with you to Mario's." "Not really. It was all spontaneous. Being with you. The dinner and wine. Feeling so sexy in this dress. A switch flipped. I was turned on." "I believe that. You look incredibly sexy in that dress. A lot of men gazed on you tonight. Almost like you were visibly naked under that clinging cloth." I sat in a chair before my legs gave way. Feeling the gazes of a lot of men like finger strokes on my dress. Remembering the helpless lust in the eyes of the man at the bar. Feeling a tickle of air between my slightly parted legs touching my bare pussy. Smiling with fat satisfaction in my secret. Making plans to share it. "I'm waiting for my night cap." Jamie went to the kitchen and returned with two glasses of wine. "Thank you sweetheart." He looked about and sat in a chair opposite mine, as I had hoped, so we could look directly at each other. So I could reveal my secret, open the new box wider for us to look into, see what was entrancing, even scary. I slumped lower in my chair, sipping from the wine glass, feeling my body loosen and relax like a fat woman whose flesh is entitled to settle in comfort, my willowy body entitled to sexual arousal, my mind entitled to open a new toy box for Jamie and I to play with. My eyes were closed. My smile plumped with erotic promise. The hem of my dress scrunched up at mid thigh. I opened my eyes and saw Jamie staring intently at the part of my legs and my slump toward the front edge of the cushion. I wondered if my reddish blond pubic hair glowed back in the recess, if there were sparkles of arousal moisture to be seen, if my labia lips were opened and inviting. I felt intensely slutty and whorish positioned as I was, receiving my husband's fixed gaze at my parted legs, his gaze as fixed and purposeful as a hard cock approaching my inviting labia lips. "You decided not to wear panties tonight." Jamie said, as though he had solved a riddle. "Yes and no." I said, staring at my husband through half lidded eyes, teasing him, challenging him, leading him. "I was panty wrapped at first." "At first." Jamie mused. "Where are they now?" "In my purse." "You took your panties off and put them in your purse when you went to the rest room at the Marriott." Jamie was with me. His razor sharp mind had closed the gap in my fantasy of that night. But not completely. There was still a space he had to squeeze through. "That I did." I said. We stared at each other, our secret sexualities, our shared "kink" striped naked and exposed, my bare pussy nuzzling into the chair cushion. I felt a surge of pride in Jamie that he didn't blurt out the question WHY? WHAT ON EARTH POSSESSED YOU? Instead, he dove into the deep pool of details I had provided in my previous stories of fucking other men, and gave me lee way to reveal in my way at my tempo the impulse that preceded my action of removing my panties in the ladies room. Though he did feel compelled to give me a nudge. "The place. The return to the scene of the crime. Where you were a college girl playing prostitute for a night. Sucking that man Kirk's cock, him fucking you twice, once in the ass. The memories were too much. You had to remove your panties to make room for those memories." "That was no doubt a large part of my sudden impulse." I said. Jamie raised his brows in quizzical arches, the arches saying without his voice sounding, "A large part? Only a part?" "Don't forget your finger on my clit that made me come. Your pinching and fondling my nipples." "I remember quite well." "And the good looking man at the bar watching all we did and knowing and raising his glass to us in salute." "And sending drinks to our table." Jamie said, assembling the parts into a picture becoming clearer. "That man." I said. I suddenly sat up straighter, spurred by curiosity. "Those drinks he sent. That was a gesture that came our way and flew past us and dissolved in thin air. But. We had the choice of inviting him over and getting acquainted, or ignoring the whole thing. I chose for us to ignore. But. What if I had said yes, the sociable thing to do is invite him over. See what he has in mind. How would you have handled that.?" Jamie looked off into space. "I have no idea." He said. "His interest was obviously in you. Not me. That is totally outside my experience. A strange man in a bar hitting on my wife. Now that I think of it, I don't like the idea at all. That is not us. A man in a bar wanting to fuck you. Horning into our space to see what his chances might be. No. That has no place in our toy boxes. Your playing the whore, fucking your pretend John some where in that hotel, that was a story that sat me on fire, set us both on fire, and was very good for us. That man at the bar... what the hell was he thinking? That I would hand you over to him? All to repay him for buying us drinks?" "Or..." I said, stretching out a speculation, "maybe he wondered if you would share me with him. Hand me over with full consent." "Then that makes him a fucking insane mad man." I smiled with knowledge Jamie was only dimly aware of. "Such things do happen, you know. Some married couples do invite another man to join them. Have a threesome. The men taking turns fucking the wife. The wife dearly loving it all. Being the center of attention." Jamie had embraced the erotic flame I lit in him when I detailed my escapade at the Red Rooster Inn, and later my whore night at the Marriott, and later still my invented fuck with the pizza delivery boy. But he was lost and shaken by this jolt of presented scene - possibly the man at the bar fucking me on the table top while he watched me being the center of attention. With his consent not present at all, much less fully so. Jamie was rattled. "Is that something you would dearly love? Me and another man taking turns fucking you?" "No. Definitely not. Not like that. That isn't us. Such a thing doesn't fit in our toy boxes. What does fit, and fits so well, is my thrill in enflaming you, and your thrill in being enflamed. We now know that completely, and embrace that knowledge. Do we not?" "Yes. We do." "We agree. So I must say the man at the bar tonight did have unexpected effect." Jamie relaxed, partly, sweeping aside an array of prickly threats that had mustered around him with a flash vision of the man at the bar taking his turn fucking me, but his body was also strung with erotic tension, a tickle of familiarity streaming from our toy box, his captivation by a story I could tell. "Tell me the effect." He commanded. "The scene of the crime." I said. "He sat almost where Kirk had sat at the bar. Potent memories. But he was in the hear and now. He somehow became intertwined in our private experience as we sat in the booth. He saw you finger my pussy and make me come. We shared that with him, whether you were fully aware of it or not. I was fully aware. I was boiling with the sexual heat of exhibition. For you. In a public place. But also for that handsome man at the bar, when it was clear he was watching. Do you understand?" "I think so. I'm listening." "Now for my secret. When I went to the ladies room, I made eye contact with him. Something zapped in both of us. That 'something' was pure sexual electricity. That has happened to me before, in my single days, in other contexts. But tonight was a new context and an extremely powerful one. In part because he sat where Kirk had been when I created my stage to play the prostitute and eager slut. In larger part because I was still quivery with the orgasm your fingers gave me. The greater part of all being the way he looked at me with unreserved masculine lust. Oh yes. Unreserved lust. That is a very special thrill for a woman. Sometimes a bit scary. The unreserved lust a woman can ignite in a man, a good looking sexy man, and a total stranger at that." "And for you it was exhilaration. Not a bit scary." "Not a bit. His raw lust was like an artist with clay in his hands, shaping a model of me as a woman free to feel the joys of breaking all sexual inhibition. Exhibiting myself. Walking by him proudly. Putting extra bounce in my ass cheeks." "Yes. I saw that. Your glorious ass in jubilant dance. Not knowing what was happening in your mind, in your belly, in your cunt. Just that my wife Sondra has the sexiest ass God ever bestowed on a woman." I almost swooned when my husband said that. I felt fluttery and faint. I melted into my chair, in a flow of love and blessing. Jamie spoke with unreserved sincerity that surpassed the power of unreserved lust that overcame that man at the bar. Surpassing, but not banishing. Encompassing and accepting that I had put extra jiggle in my ass cheeks just for the handsome man. A complete stranger. Old familiarity from our toy box had its own irresistible power, and it had taken grip. Me as exhibitionist. My husband as voyeur. I slumped back down on my chair. Parted my knees and thighs, lifted the hem of my dress to my under belly. Jamie stared at my cunt. Mesmerized. "So," Jamie breathed out, "after you gave that man your special ass jiggle, you took your panties off and put them in your purse. Just for him." "Not 'just.' For you. And for me. And yes, also for the man at the bar. That zing of sexual electricity that zapped us when I walked by. That cannot be denied." "No. Obviously that cannot be denied." "Can you accept that?" He thought for a moment. There was no sign of struggle in his thinking. But he did think. Seeing, no doubt, visions of me in my first flower of slut release with an older man at the Red Rooster Inn, and again my chosen adventure of half playing the prostitute for a man I had just met at a bar. "Yes. I can accept that." There. He said it. He was on board. He was with me. He was mine. "It wasn't me that took her panties off." Jamie made no attempt to decipher what I said. "It was Scheherazade." I said. "Ahhh." Jamie said. He slumped down in his chair, his legs relaxed and spread, in unconscious simulation of my posture, my mood, my direction. He sipped his wine and looked at me with smoldering anticipation. It was Scheherzade who had taken her panties off in the ladies' room. It was she who sat before him with parted legs, her dress hem up to her waist, her exposed pussy radiating the heat that would spark his erotic kink, ignite the red hot flame. He was ready for that. Very ready. "How shall I begin?" I wondered. "At the beginning." Jamie said. "You were out of town. I was missing you terribly. My thoughts kept straying to the toy boxes on our shelf. The erotic fire they light in each of us. How much we enjoy it. I was restless. And I was very horny. That plain simple horny need for sexual adventure everyone feels from time to time. I had to get out. I put on a sexy dress and got in my car. It goes without saying, I certainly didn't expect you to be here when I returned." "We wrapped it up a day early. I got the first flight back. I should have called." My husband was with me, joined to me in my imaginary adventure. His joining me was seamless. No wrinkles. Just as inspired as I was to play our delicious game. "If you had called, what happened tonight wouldn't have happened." "Then I suppose I must bear the blame. What did happen? Where did you go?" "No where at first. Just drove aimlessly. I ended up at the Marriott lounge, not really knowing why." "Let me guess. Unconscious forces at work. Memories revisited and shared with me. Was the place still the same?" "It seemed so. Maybe new carpet. But nothing to divert my feeling of the college girl whore who was reliving her experience all over again." "And reliving that experience... that requires a handsome man sitting at the bar." "Yes. It does. And a handsome man was there. Almost like he had been scripted to be there. Not Kirk. A new man. And he was very good looking. Can you picture him?" "You will have to describe him. I'm sure you can." "Heavier than you. Broader and thicker. Maybe an inch or so taller. He was packed with masculinity that seemed to ripple all over him. That kind of man. But very well dressed. He had all the confidence of a man who knew and expected success on the business playing field. He had all the confidence of a man who knew that women felt weak in his presence." "Did you feel weak?" "Yes and no. It was much like my first time there. Those feelings of being the whore so long ago returned, feeling powerful and in control. But at the same time I felt weak and exposed. In some unconscious way I had swiftly singled him out, selected him, had deliberately perched on the empty stool beside him. My instincts were perfect. He oozed sex appeal in lavish abundance. And then I knew. I understood exactly why I had been so restless all day and evening. The explosive liberation of accident that allowed me to be a college girl whore those years ago. I wanted to do it again. But this time with eyes wide open. No hiding behind awkward mistakes and false impressions. I wanted to give myself to a strange man sitting at a bar. That very man. Who made my cunt juice flow like he had turned on my tap. I wanted him to fuck me." Jamie was seized, entranced, wholly captivated by the magic of Scheherzade. And by the depths of mesmerizing depravity in his proper, conventional wife. But there was a new element in our adventure. The man I wanted to fuck me was not imaginary. He was not an invented pizza boy, or the faceless men of my previous stories. He was grounded in a passing reality that Jamie could readily see. A real shape and presence of recent immediacy that attached to imagery I spun out. That gave a keener edge to our wonderful game, cut much finer detail of actuality. Held Jamie in a new and different clutch. I saw all that gripped him, and I almost came in seeing it. I was giving to him. He was giving back to me. We were fully sharing on a new and higher plane. "Our open sexual exchange happened very quickly, Jamie. With no sly sexual talk at all. All we had to do was look at each other, and it was like his hands were on my breasts, between my legs, and my hand was feeling his hard cock in his pants. Very quickly. I had to go pee. I could feel his eyes on me when I walked off. His eyes on my ass. I gave it an extra bounce for him." Jamie's eyes were darting back and forth from my eyes to my pussy, to my hand and finger massaging my clit, to my eyes gazing at the mighty erection straining under his pant leg. I had lit his erotic fire. The flame was burning hot. I felt joyful and jubilant in giving him that. That was what it was all about. Both of us set free to be what we were, needing and sharing this piercing thrill. "When I was locked in the stall I had a flash fantasy. Just a flash." "Tell me." "His cock. Standing high and proud and hard and bursting with desire for me. Just his cock. His thighs and muscular belly. His face didn't appear. Only his bare cock mattered then, in the instant fantasy flash. Am I telling it well?" "Perfectly." My husband said, a catch in his voice. "Perfectly because of you." I said. Again, Jamie's intuition came to fore, content to wait for me to clarify how he had contributed to the perfection of my telling. "When I had my flash fantasy, all the details of it became a description I must share with you when you returned from your business trip. That was as solid in my flash fantasy as his magnificent hard cock. And that was why I decided to not pull my panties back up, but to pull them off and put them in my purse. To walk back to the man at the bar half naked under my dress. To see if he would instantly see what I had done. Thinking of how I would tell you what I had done when you were back home." Jamie and I stared at each other, gazing into each other's very souls. My story eclipsed the ones of Ken and Kirk. The pizza boy no longer counted at all. Scheherazade was creating a masterpiece. Weaving threads of hours old reality into inspired fantasy that created an erotic tapestry unlike any that came from the toy box before. I sat with spread legs, my clingy dress hem high, my pussy exposed, explaining why I removed my panties in the rest room a couple of hours earlier, but creating a boundless sexual substance in that explanation by pretending Jamie was out of town, that I went to the Marriott alone, itchy with need to be a whore one more time. This time with no pretense of restraints. This time with fixed intent. For my delirious pleasure, and to tell my husband all when he finished his business and came back to me. A Masterpiece! Jamie was clearly experiencing effects he had never felt before. I was ecstatic with accomplishment. A Loving Wife's Story Ch. 04 "Thank you for telling me. For knowing what it means for me to know." "I do know what it means, my love. What it means for both of us. And there is more to tell you." "Please do. Tell me all. I want to hear. I need to know." "Whatever conversation we had doesn't matter. Sexual desire was all that mattered. We didn't even give our names. Nor any brief personal history. I was pure released slut. He was pure randy man. He had a room in the hotel, and I went there with him. Going up in the elevator we kissed. He kissed like a man, claiming, taking, possessing. When we walked down the hall his big hand held my ass I had wiggled for him, cupping the vision, feeling the reality, silently saying this is now mine." I stood. My dress fell to my knees. I slowly walked to Jamie, my hips in languid sway, my ass cheeks tucking and expanding like they were still in the clasp of the hand of the man. I gazed at Jamie through half lidded eyes, through fumes of erotic seduction. I held out my hand to him. He rose and took it. Trembling with almost unbearable excitement. I put my arm around his waist and conducted us to our bedroom. Jamie's hand caressed my ass, then squeezed tightly. Just as the man had done in the hotel hallway. I was certain of that. I was creating a Masterpiece for our complete sharing. Loaded with erotic grace notes and writhing filigrees never presented to us before, arising from hours old reality and transforming into transcendental sexual make believe. When we were in our bedroom I stopped and turned my back to him. Jamie knew what to do. He unzipped my dress down the back. Before he slid the top off my shoulders, he kissed the back of my neck, breathed hot breath into my ear. "He was slow and gentle and sure when he unzipped my dress." I said. "His cock felt huge and long and hard as iron pressing against my ass." I hunched my ass back onto Jamie's long hard cock. I hummed. I purred. He reached for my breasts, gently hefting them, tenderly, lovingly, pinching my nipples erect and filled with desire beneath the bra, just as his cock was at the bursting point of desire under his pants. "He reached around and held my breasts and his fingers worked magic on my nipples. That sweet, sweet pleasure that floods my chest, washes away all resistance. And it washed away my whore fantasy. For the moment. I was all woman. Beautiful, desirable woman. A full grown married woman, given over to the opportunity of sexual freedom with a stranger of the night." Jamie did not speak. He could not speak. I, Scheherazade, held all the words. My dress slipped from my shoulders and fell to my feet. I stepped out of it and let it lie on the carpet. I turned and faced Jamie. I reached behind and undid the clasp of my bra. I shrugged and the bra fell and my breasts tumbled free. An action so common place and automatic for a woman, but for Jamie an action magical on multiple levels. He once told me what it meant for him. The quick shrug and unbinding of my breasts. The vision of freedom and release. The beauty of the form and rebounding resilience. My breasts, my succulent tits. The marvel of a woman. The woman he loved. And I could see a level among the multiple levels which so transfixed him - he was looking over the shoulder of the man in a hotel room, seeing my bra slip away, my breasts tumble free, luscious and available. I knew he was! And that gave even more heat to our volcanic game. "For a moment I stood naked before him. He softened and mellowed. His eyes gazed on me and absorbed me. Then I undressed him." I started with Jamie's jacket, tossing it on a chair. Then his tie. Unbuttoned his shirt and removed it. Slowly but methodically. "Then I went to my knees." I said. I went to my knees. I undid Jamie's belt and pulled down the zip. I pulled his pants and shorts down to his feet. He held to my shoulders as he stepped clear. His cock sprang up and slapped my cheek. I nuzzled my cheek to his cock and inhaled deeply. "The smell of his man crotch." I said. "There is no other smell like it. Intoxicating. And the heat in hard cock. And the silky skin on cock. That lovely cylinder shape so long and hard. The purple head so tightly swollen. The taste of it. The filling power of it in my mouth." I opened my mouth wide and sucked my husband's cock. He buckled and almost collapsed. The smell of his cock. The taste of it. I grew dizzy with power. I thought he might come at any moment. I didn't want that. "I didn't want him to come in my mouth." I said. "I wanted him to come in my cunt. So I crawled on the bed and lay on my back. And my whore fantasy returned, and I thought of you." "What did you think?" "I saw myself clearly on that bed. And I began to store in my mind every detail to describe to you when you returned to me. Or I returned to you with my panties in my purse, I should say now. I stored the details in sharpest clarity." Jamie waited, and watched. And I was very proud of him for doing that. Not panting for the details in sharpest clarity to spill out. Waiting and watching. Watching me paint my Scheherazade Masterpiece, stroke by stroke. "I, Sondra, your wife, was on my back in the center of that hotel bed. My arms were flung back like signaling a football touchdown. My heels were pulled a little back and planted on the mattress. My legs were spread wide. Ready for him. Wanting him. Just as I lie before you right now." Our eyes were locked in a bond that came from our inner cores, a bond everlasting and could never be broken. We stared into each other's eyes as Jamie's knee sank into the mattress, his other knee joining, to duck walk his body to position between my wide spread legs. A man positioning to fuck a woman. A woman surrendered to her inner slut, opened wide to receive cock. I broke our eye contact to stare at Jamie's cock. "His cock looked the way he did. Engorged, intent, certain and dominant. I put my hands behind my knees and pulled them to my shoulders, putting my body in a bow, lifting my bottom to his advance. His purple cock head made contact. Big and hot. Then he pushed it into me." Jamie entered me. His cock huge and long and hot, spreading and filling me to my very depths. When he bottomed out my orgasms began to assemble their energies for the grandest production of my life. Growing, building, exploding, one after the other, on top of each other, scrambling in a mad race to deliver me to a new space, a new state of being. "Oh yes. Yes, yes! My husband! My love! My sweetest love! Fuck your wife!" To be continued... A Loving Wife's Story Ch. 05 The night I put my panties in my purse was a pivotal point for my husband and I. It resulted in the most intense thrill of my fucking other men we had achieved thus far. Fantasy fucking in a new context. A context of electrifying clarity blended with newness and unfamiliarity. A clarity and a blend that left us both abashed and a little shy. We put it in its box and carefully walked around it, getting up our nerve. For a couple of weeks. I was waiting for the most conducive ambiance. Jamie took the reins and put his spurs to the flank. My man took charge of me, of us. "I love my Scheherazade." He said. "And your Scheherazade loves you." I said. "You were in rare form last time." "A woman taking her panties off in public can have a mighty effect." "Inspired invention, certainly." "Inspired action too." "Daring and bold." "Coming back home to find you here. Imagine my surprise." "Hearing every detail of your adventure, imagine mine." I laughed with bubbling joy and also with sexual release where the sublime and the dirty cohabit equally. "How did it feel fucking your wife while knowing another man had fucked her a few hours earlier?" Jamie didn't flinch. He looked calmly into my eyes. "Indescribable." He said. "That is Scheherazade's job. To describe the indescribable." "And she did. She was inspired. She exceeded herself." "I think she might have. She involved you more directly than ever before. Like you were really there, seeing for real, me and the man, seeing and participating for real." "Yes." Jamie said. And said no more. Having said for that instant all he was capable of saying. I took a deep breath and took a new tack. "I would like to discuss something with you." "Fire away." "That man sent drinks to our table, hoping we would invite him to join us. And I speculated he might have thought I was available. With your permission of course." "For a threesome, you allowed." "Well, what else? There are couples that do that. And couples that do that probably started out doing what we do. What we did when we got home that night." Jamie tensed. "What we did, what we do, is different. Not the same thing at all. Just us. No one but us knowing." "Of course! You don't have to tell me that." "Well, what is there to discuss?" "This. How you were so closely involved with my inspired story. Because you could clearly see the man with me. Because you saw him earlier at the bar. And your clearly seeing that real man fuck me, even in fantasy, gave us both a greater thrill than ever before. Admit it." Jamie was defenseless, caught out, making his admission with a curt nod, very uneasy by where I was leading us. "This is what I want us to talk about. Can you imagine watching a man fuck me for real? You there in the same room?" "Don't do this Sondra." "Oh love. My precious love. It's only hypothetical. And we have the freedom to talk about anything. My God. I told you all about Ken and Kirk and even invented a pizza delivery boy. You loved that and I loved that. It did not harm us at all. It empowered us to see what was inside both of us and choose to use it for our very wild and private fun. I flirted with a man and took my panties off. I fantasy fucked that same man for you shortly afterward, and we both were ripped by the most intense excitement ever. And that did us no harm. My question, and whatever your answer might be, cannot harm us. It is all hypothetical. I ask this because I want a broader knowledge of you." Jamie squirmed. He looked pinched. He wanted to be a good sport in our hypothetical examination, but he was looking for an exit. "No." He finally said. "I can't imagine it. Not really being there, in the same room. Watching another man fuck you for real. That step is too vast, the barrier too solid for me to pass through or around. Can you?" "Can I pass through or around that barrier?" "Can you imagine yourself fucking a man for real, with me in the same room watching you," How quickly he had turned the tables! It was my turn to squirm. "Hypothetically speaking." He said, giving the knife a gentle twist. "Well, I donno. I have to think about that." "Take all the time you need." Could I imagine it? The honest truth was yes, I could. I had acclimated. I had imagined fucking another man the four times I spun out all the details for Jamie to see, as if it were real, to enflame his imagination. And my own enflamed imagination was sometimes inseparable from the reality. "A fair question." I said. "Actually, it wouldn't be a vast step for me. I have already done it four times. Each time bringing you in to watch. Or maybe I should say Scheherazade did, respecting our hypothetical." "And with that same respect, I ask if the idea of a threesome with another man is something that turns you on? An idea you want to play with?" Jamie had thrown down the gauntlet. He didn't mess around. It was my time to be completely honest. But gently so. Because actually fucking another man with my husband actually there in the same room, on the same bed, was a sudden vision that shot an electric current up and down my belly and made my cunt wet. But it was clear that no such current had zapped my husband. An impenetrable barrier separated me and my sudden vision from him. A threesome with another man could not fit into our fantasies, and certainly not form an idea of actually happening. Not for Jamie. That was clear enough. It was also instantly clear to me that Jamie's part in our ravishing game had limits, had vulnerable edges. I couldn't define those limits and edges in that instant, but I knew they were there. In that instant I knew I must protect my husband, to protect us, and the game we loved to play. "No." I said. "A tempting idea to play with, but no. No threesome with another man. That would not enhance me, or you. It would be detrimental to what we now have and so greatly enjoy." "I have increased my knowledge of you." He said. "And I of you." A feeling of relief washed through me. Also a feeling of exhilaration. Also a heady sense of female power. Willowy Sondra. Womanly Sondra with long legs, wide hips, full round ass and proud but modest boobs, a cunt well practiced in gripping hard cock and milking sperm from it. Sondra Andrews Phd. A university professor who had once acted the role of prostitute. Sondra the loving wife, who thrilled her husband and herself with deliberate, focused recreations of her fucking other men. "So there. Now we have created definition and boundaries for our need to play our wild and wonderful game. And I think there might really be a need there. A sometimes mood that calls on me to fuck other men of memory or fantasy to give you that erotic transport that cannot happen any other way. Can happen only in that way. That's the way it will be. Our marvelous game will continue to be me fucking other men alone, then Scheherazade appearing to tell you all, and we both will be transported." "That works best. That is proven." "Long live Scheherazade!" ***** That memorable and momentous discussion cleared the air and coalesced our adopted kink into a substance of firm declaration and direction. For both of us. Even though we didn't discuss it, pick at each other for confirmation. We let it lie on a pillow of mutual consent that only a married couple bound together in everlasting love can possess. Albeit an exceeding unusual mutual consent. But no less real and valuable for that. And it was ours. Marriage, and individual lives, are not all about sex. Everyone knows that. The days and weeks passed in routine and hum-drum, and in good things and unexpected delights. Work, relaxation, and making love. I didn't dwell on what our pivotal discussion had produced. But I thought of it often, at leisure. That firm substance of declaration and direction. My license to fuck other men to provide my husband his reward, his helpless surrender to those ravishing thrills of sexual excitation in my telling, my recreation. Which worked best, which was proven, he had said. Even so, there remained a smudge I needed to wipe away. That impenetrable barrier through which he could not pass to watch another man fuck me for real. I knew I could do it. Fuck another man for real with Jamie present to see. That would only be an extension of what we had already established in fantasy creation. Then my intelligence threw me a zinger. What about the reverse? Could I be in the same room to watch Jamie fuck another woman? My insides turned to ice. No. I couldn't even bear the thought. No. I could not do that. My jealousy would decimate me, or make me a monster. Then I saw what the barrier was for Jamie. The stories I shared for him had never had any claws to rip jealousy from his guts. I was certain of that. If there were signs I would have seen them. There weren't any. Ever. Only that initial turmoil of confusion that he might be some form of pervert because of the spontaneous, beyond his control erection my first story gave him. But we took care of that, came to comfortable terms with the psycho-sexual quirks we all contain, no matter how bizarre. My quirk to be a joyful, liberated slut-whore with a dedicated purpose of nourishing the quirk in my husband, giving him that ravishing excitement of seeing his wife as joyful, liberated slut-whore. But his seeing took place in safety of us alone, seeing and hearing me describe something that had already taken place with a man in another place. That was the essential fuel that gave our toy box potential to build the heat and light the fire of sexual adventure that consumed us both. It would be foolish to tamper with that fuel, risk diluting it of its magical potency. The last smudge went away, seemingly on its own. Our positions and our roles were fixed. They had been from the beginning. There was no point in asking why. I gave to him in my way, he gave back to me in his way. Neither of us held advantage or control of the other. Our game of me fucking other men separate then telling my husband every detail was right for him and right for me. Oh my God so right! That was fixed. That was what we would do. ***** Funny, but after the structure and boundaries of our game, our outlet for naughty indulgence in what we both saw as a sometime need, were established and permanently in place, we seemed to forget that precious toy box was even on the shelf. Ordinary life went on. Our separate careers. Good days, happy days, blah days, and on rare occasions moods a bit cranky and out of sorts. Marriage as ordinary as it gets. Except for the sex. Our married sex had a growth spurt, like a gangly adolescent gradually changing into adulthood. Our sex had always been good. It got better, much better. Without any studied trial of fancy new positions or my flourishing sexy undies or brazen accouterments. It was simple husband and wife sex. Sweet and lovely. Sometimes urgent and energy borne. But in all was a deeper and more profound communion of joining, merging, touching and knowing the essence of each other. And knowing that essence included the dynamics of our established but set free sexual kinks that nestled in our toy box. The toy box was like a very fat savings account in a bank. An asset available for a rainy day, or any pop up need. It was like a house mortgage that had been paid off, giving us title free and clear. It had a subtle effect on Jamie that I as loving wife was quick to notice and relish. He made love to me with a new and comfortable confidence. He seemed to give over to adoration and worship of my body, from hairline to toe nails, but at the same time his adoration and worship was wrapped in the directional nature of universal masculinity, possessing me, owning me. My orgasms were quick and many, oh so many. My pleasures sometimes delirious. My utter sexual satiety so ennobling and so utterly peaceful. We had it all in our bed. Even so, having it all is still open to curiosity. One night we had it all in my sucking Jamie off. Just that and only that, all that I wanted. My adoring and worshiping his cock. And I sucked him with inspired technique and skill. In slut-whore mood, not really knowing where that mood came from. I turned him inside out. I drained him. And he was spent and exhausted and jellied with happiness. Curiosity make a little skip and alighted on my head. "Jamie?" "My love." "When we make love, do you sometimes see me with the men of my stories?" My question didn't seem to bother him. He thought a moment, and said, "Sometimes. Not very clearly. Not the men that is. I see you clearly. Performing with them. The visions flit about, never staying still for long." He paused, took a deep breath, and continued. "It is more like I see your unique sexual capacity on display, sucking their cocks, fucking them. Does that make sense? It's complicated." "That makes perfect sense! Beautifully and concisely stated. My capacity. I had never thought of it that way. My capacity. My capacity is what came out our first time of set free exchange. And uncovered your own unique sexual capacity to be so terribly excited. By God that makes perfect sense!" "And you? Do you sometimes drift into experiencing those other men when we make love?" "Sometimes. But you nailed it. Those drifts are really recognition of my capacity for let go female sexuality. And a solid recognition that my letting go is for you first and foremost. To excite you and inflame you. My gift to you. That gives all meaning to my letting go. Do you know that and accept that, with no reservations?" "I do. It took a while. But I now know and accept, with no reservations." "Jamie, Jamie, Jamie. I love you, I love you. You are my all, my everything. We are wife and husband. Perfect match and mate. Of capacities, of everything." "That was a stupendous blow job you gave me." I arched a brow and smiled at him. "That was my capacity unleashed, just for you." "No thoughts of other men?" "No. Only you were in my head, in my mouth." I gave him that look that only a woman can do, rounding up loose thoughts like a shepherd herding his flock of sheep, bringing my husband into the fold. "Now that you mention it, it has been several months. Maybe it is time to call on my sister Scheherazade, have some girl talk, see what we can come up with new." "I'm good with that." "Review what we did with that man at the Marriott lounge. Select the best parts and build on them." "I have no doubt you two will come up with something spectacular." To be continued... A Loving Wife's Story Ch. 06 I was challenged. My husband expected my next story of fucking another man to be something spectacular. I wanted it to be too. We were so interlocked in our toy box indulgence it was now my wifely duty to see that I didn't disappoint him. Standards of effect had been set high, and must be maintained, or raised higher. And all the responsibility for that rested in my lap. It was up to me to create the scene that would enflame and transport us both to our delicious other world. But I was like a novelist who turned out a few best sellers then found herself emptied of all ideas. The ten remaining sex partners of my single days were so obscured by history that not a one of them could light a memory even interesting, much less spectacular. And did I really fuck a dozen men or boys back then? I only came up with a round figure. Probably they were less. However, it could have been a few more. Whatever, I had great difficulty remembering any of them. Only Ken and Kirk. And they gave their all to my stories I had already shared with Jamie. The man at the bar at the Marriott still hung around the edges of my mind. Like he was pulling strings attached to vague thoughts struggling to take shape. What was most fascinating about him, in hindsight, was the way he blended reality into fantasy. The way a master chef swirls a contrasting colored cream sauce into a bowl of soup. The way Scheherazade blended his reality into her Masterpiece of fantasy reenactment, incorporating his role to raise her husband's erotic flame to the boiling point A real man her husband had seen and could clearly see again. The best ever sexual excitement from our toy box for Jamie, and for me. The man at the bar, long gone, was still pulling strings in my head. Was this the next step? My actually fucking a real contemporary man and returning to my husband with all the details to give him that special gift? That gift to his real and unquestioned capacity? That next step question shocked me, frightened me, made me think we - or I for sure - had taken us too far. To the edge of a precipice that overlooked dark and beckoning doom. But I kept returning to that edge, staring into the dark precipice the way a tongue probes a sore tooth. Probing my limits. Our limits. Jamie is my husband. We are married. No other man has made love to me since our wedding day. He loves me and cherishes and protects me. He is all that I need and want. Yet... Could I really do it? Just for erotic story material? What an absurd question! But...on further thought... What a spectacular gift that could turn into for Jamie! If he could agree to it. There was absolutely no reason for me to assume he could, or would, or want to. On the other hand... More times than I can count I had examined my husband and his surrender to that over powering sexual excitement in hearing me describe sex with other men. A surrender he could have experienced once then rejected there after. But his, and my, positions became fixed. We learned we neither could reject, nor wanted to. His surrender to that special thrill arose from a mystery deep inside him, and he chose to accept it. There was no longer any reason to ask why he was so ravished by the visuals and words of my stories of another man fucking me. That was just the way it was, a part of him as intensely real as owning his own accounting business, and all other non-sexual things about him. And so was my position of narrator, inflamer and enthraller just as real, a part of me. Just as fulfilling of sexual transport. I could do it. Go out and fuck a contemporary man for the purpose of sharing all with my husband. Of course I could. I had already admitted to myself my capacity - that special word again - to fuck a man with Jamie in the same room watching me. And my capacity for that possibility gave me a searing sexual thrill. But it passed. The threesome concept was like a joker in our deck of playing cards, something that had no business in our game, so we tossed it out and reshuffled. I looked long and hard at the possibility of our next step, and saw a crazy sort of logic there. What would my husband see in that possibility? Could he even bear to look at it? ***** Time passed. There was no hurry. Life was good. Our toy box sat on the shelf awaiting our bidding. We controlled it. It didn't control us. And that made me wonder, at times, if we actually had that oh so rare "need?" Maybe the need was nothing more than accident. Even so, the accidental emerging had an extremely satisfying consistency. If an accounting had to be made, my accountant husband would appear as the catalyst of most of those accidents. After my loving support led him to complete acceptance of his kink, and complete acceptance of mine. My loving support for him to accept the next step would require great patience and skillful guidance, and most of all for him to be the catalyst once again. ***** "With or without?" My bra was in place, but I stood twirling the matching panties in my right hand. We were dressing to go to the country club for a dinner dance. Jamie knew exactly what my question referred to. His sudden start, stare, said he was back in the Marriott lounge where I had confessed a passing highly charged sexual exchange with a man sitting at the bar, all in eye contact and body language, which moved me to take my panties off and put them in my purse in the ladies room. "With." He said, his eyes sliding over my legs, my hips, my under belly, onto my sandy-reddish-blond bush and my cunt. "You can always remove them later, if the need arises." Bingo. He was with me. We were both in the game. And "need" was given its due by his saying "if the need arises." I sat on the edge of the bed and put on my panties, slowly, giving him a show, a preview of possibilities, coddling our mutual need with a satin band snug to my cunt. My dress stunned Jamie. "My God! You are gorgeous beyond description!" Try to make me believe any wife would not burst with triumph on hearing her husband say that. If she loved him, that is. I burst with triumph and joy, and love for my husband. I had carefully chosen my dress and paid for it with my own money instead of our joint account. I paid the seamstress extra to make alterations for a perfect fit. The material was silk and the color a deep rust, somewhere between Van Dyke brown and burnt umber. The fabric was stamped, woven, embossed, somehow fixed with tiny squares filled with geometric designs that caught the light and made that shimmering mixed statement of color. A statement that praised my creamy freckled skin and the naturally ambiguous golden straw sheen of my hair falling in waves to my shoulders. The dress style was simplicity itself. The bottom half came closer to my knees than mid-thigh, and held my thighs and ass closely but not skin tight. The upper half hugged my tummy, then opened into a rectangle with inch and a half wide straps that went over my shoulders and crossed my back. The rectangle was a copy, after minor alterations, of a popular style of T-shirt many girls and women were wearing. A daring exposure of bosom down toward the nipples and more than half out to the outer edges of turn under, an exquisite display of tits, yet retaining a strong suggestion of innocent, virginal purity. That delicate feminine softness that commands a man's eyes to look and see and imagine and at all costs remain civilized. "You think this dress might be too daring?" "You are going to spoil the party for a lot of women tonight. Stir up a lot of envy and jealousy. But that's their problem." "I might stir up some men too." "For certain you will." "I don't want that to be a problem." "For them or me?" "For either." "Then you must maintain strict self-control, mustn't you." The dinner was country club grub and no more. The crowd was lively and congenial. The women were women and turned the room into a competitive arena of sizing each other up, the style and effect and cost of dresses and jewelry. I didn't seem to stir up any envy and jealousy in them. I actually wasn't all that friendship close with any of them. A few I had met casually, mingled with at tennis, the pool, the bridge table. They were likable and we got along. Jamie and I were relatively new members, and the club was not our social crutch. As the evening progressed I bumped into those women and we did the smiling and cheek bussing and exchanges of "how nice you look!" One or two gave lingering looks at my breasts displayed in the silk rectangle, comparing perhaps, some feeling perhaps a bit ill equipped, others smug with greater abundance. The husbands were in their own competitive arena. Successful business men all. Movers and shakers in the community. Packed with testosterone and masculinity exclusive to a millionaire. Even the short and paunchy bald ones. It wasn't a part of the style for a woman to cheek-buss them. But in their brief hand shakes was a masculine assertion, in their eye contact a predatory inclination, and they all gave a helpless gaze to the creamy, freckled, soft, virginal purity of my tits innocently exposed. Exactly as I had intended by design and paying extra for it. My rush of female triumph soared. My power over those rich men confirmed by their eyes glued to my breasts. I felt giddy and open to the night, thinking how much giddier it would be to see a really attractive man give my virginal tit's a visual caress, his eyes licking them like his tongue wanted to do. There were bound to be really attractive men in the crowd. I would bump into them sooner or later. The tables around the dance floor were soon moved into clusters of various sizes, cliques of friends forming. Jamie and I found a table for four for ourselves, and within minutes were forced to yield to Marge Levine who said "Oh goody! May we join you?" "Of course" Jamie said, ever the gallant. Oh shoot, I thought. Marge's husband Peter was not an attractive man. He had a high forehead, sunken cheeks, and eyes that wandered everywhere except to my virginal tits innocently exposed. He seemed to harbor a dislike for idle conversation. If it wasn't stocks and bonds and the bitchy Federal Reserve, then what was interesting to talk about? Marge was, damn it, attractive, in an over blown way, to some men, no doubt. Her tits were large, quite large. So was her ass. So was her hungry smile at Jamie. She was old enough and heavy enough to have a double chin. Her dress merely bundled her exaggerated curves. It looked like a sack compared with mine. Dances at this country club were unique. It was all ball room dancing. Couples actually moving together in the melody and rhythm. None of that solitary jerking and gyrating demanded in television beer commercials. No strobe lights. No techno artificiality of pounding noise with no variation and no cease until someone flipped a switch. No. A real dance band with reeds and brass horns, a piano, a bass, an acoustic guitar. The drummer used brushes as often as wood sticks. Real music. From Cole Porter up to any song in the modern era that had a genuine melody, and those were becoming so rare as to be almost extinct. Real dancing. And real adult sensuality given license to let go, discretely distribute. Exhibitionism strictly controlled. The way of wealthy, privileged adults. Jamie an I danced to an old favorite I couldn't remember the name of, but it was real melody, lovely rhythm, sensual and harmonious. I loved his arms holding me. Molding to his body. Moving as one. "Having fun?" "High as a cloud." "You are highly admired by all. So is your dress." "Every woman's aspiration... Not a problem?" "Not a problem in sight. You are naturally deserving." I kissed my husband. After two dances we returned to our table. Marge said, "Now my turn." She grabbed Jamie's hand and pulled him back to the dance floor. I sat and looked at Peter with an inquiring expression that he would not or could not meet. He had no interest in dancing with me, and seemed pained by the social obligation of having to chit chat. He was relieved when a man appeared and said to me, "May I have this dance?" That was another thing about these dances. It was open house. Any man was perfectly free to ask any woman to dance, as was any woman free to ask any man. Just as Marge latched on to Jamie. No elaborate "con su permisso" curtsy required. Espousal largess was assumed. The man who rescued me from the confines of Peter Levine was handsome enough, not top drawer, but well put together, splendid in his tuxedo, highly confident in position and power, and in his virility. He pulled me snugly to him and moved us smoothly in the slow melody, the rising of body heat. He smiled at me with assurance. His eyes went from my neck downward, and got that lusty glaze as he took in every square inch of my innocently exposed bosom. His hard on was instant. A virile man for sure. He pressed it to me. I fidgeted, then pressed my groin to his. An acknowledgement. Like my cunt and his cock were in a flirting game. He squeezed me tighter and my chin turned on his shoulder and our groins fused and my cunt said a long hello to his big hard cock strutting its stuff under his pants. That was another thing about these country club dances. The open house policy permitted these liberties of sneaky, private sexual exchanges, so long as they were strictly controlled. No public mauling of tits and asses on the floor. No kissing, except for spouses. Keep it discrete and civilized. Jamie and I had found this out. Discussed it and laughed about it. Wondered if this permission for sneaky groin play went further and made those rich country club members the largest wife swapping club in the city? We had no direct knowledge of such a thing. I didn't even know my dance partner's name. I did know the feel of his cock pressing against me, and I like that feeling, because I knew I would feel more and different ones before the night was over. A really attractive man with a mighty erection pressing my cunt. I was Sondra in a beautiful and expensive dress that offered a view of my tits for all men to see. I was in my element. I looked among the swirl and sway of dancing couples and saw the most beautiful man of all. My husband. Marge Levine held him in a vice grip, her curvy bulk plastered to him, her big cunt pan caking his groin. That bitch! Sneaky tolerance or not. That bitch! Did Jamie have a hard on? "Did you get a hard on dancing with Marge?" I was dancing again with Jamie. Wanting to tease him. "You kidding?! I was too worried about suffocating. Her arm cracking my rib." "I saw her pushing it to you." "I saw you and your man in tight quarters too. Who ever he was." "Not the same thing." I said airily. "Ho, ho, ho!" Jamie said. "Did he get a hard on?" "Well... Uh... Since you ask. Yes. He did. A rather nice one, from all I could gather. Such a male thing. Cock jumping up like a wild thing. That's why I asked if you..." "Not to worry. My wild thing wouldn't even wake up for Marge Levine." "The night is young. There are lot's of attractive women here. I want an immediate report if you do get a woody." He laughed. "You will be the first to know. Make that second. No, third. Me, her, then you." "Remember to keep it under strict control." "You too." "Yes. Me too. Especially me. In this dress," I said, in sultry, visionary introspection. Jamie smiled his smile that melts me. A smile of love, with little curlicues of mischief added on. He was open to a game. It was mix and mingle. Much walking about, greeting acquaintances, gracefully agreeing to dance with several men. A couple of trips to the bar where Jamie ran a tab in our names. An inescapable sentence at the table with Marge Levine, both of us pretending oblivion to her obvious hots for Jamie. Peter had gone off somewhere. He might have even gone home for all I knew. He wasn't missed. I didn't dance with Jamie much, but it was edifying when I did. "Still giving men erections?" "Not all, thank goodness. Some, well, what can I say? And you? Those pretty ladies?" "Not even a stir. They are only women. They can't do for me what you do." "No, they can't. That is fixed. Only you and I have a special toy box for us to open and for me to do for you what no other woman can do." "Yes." He said, feeling a game in the making. Then he asked, "Who is that guy that seems to be monopolizing you?" "His name is Warren, and he is a guest of the Jennings. Do we know them?" "I know Mr. Jennings. Been trying to snag him as a client for some time." "I don't know how Warren fits in with them. Visiting, from what I gather." "Maybe that's why he's wearing a business suit instead of a tux." "Could be." I was much aware that Warren had monopolized me. We had danced to two or three songs without leaving the floor for a break. And for good reasons. He was the most attractive man there that night - not counting Jamie. I knew I would luck into someone like him, and I did at last. It was for a man like him that I had chosen my fantasy dress, and he was the man to make fantasy reality. He was late thirties, trim and fit. Black hair, black eyes, self assured, charming, and exuding a sexual magnetism that no woman could resist for long, I had no doubt. He looked at my tits on display like he was studying an exquisite work of art. A cultured man in control, experienced in controlling. But he had no control over the erection that bulged down the side of his leg. My beauty and my body was the creator of that. We did dry fucking on the dance floor, practically, song after song, which were all slower in late hours, to accommodate elderly fatigue and clandestine lovers. All discrete and civilized. When Jamie finished our dance and we went different ways, I went straight to Warren and claimed my right. We made no attempt at conversation. No pretense of needing it. Our bodies did the speaking. Our dancing still dancing, but incorporating a sexual union that was about to push the boundaries of acceptability on this particular dance floor. His hard cock snug to my cunt and making my juices gush. "Wheeew!" I fanned my face, and my tits. "I need some air." I walked to a door that opened to a flagstone patio. Warren followed, in nonchalant control. The patio was deserted, but Warren said "This way." He took my hand and led me down stone steps to the dark shelter of the patio wall. He wrapped me in his arms and kissed my lips. ***** Home again, safe and sound. "Shall we have a night cap?" "No thanks, my love, I've had enough for tonight." "All in all, this was a very fun night wasn't it." "Much more than I expected it to be." I said. "Oh? Are your panties in your purse?" I laughed. "They are still in place, intact, on me. Tacky. Maybe sticky is the better word." "Oh ho! I think you have a story to tell me." "Let's sit together on the sofa." I relaxed on the cushion, slightly splayed, knees apart, arms fallen to either side. Jamie sat close, slightly turned, his arm on the back of the sofa, gazing long at my breasts daringly exposed in my clever dress, seeing what so many other men had seen that night. "I'm afraid I was a naughty girl tonight. Only for a brief spell, thankfully." "A brief lapse of strict control?" "Yes. That could describe it very well." "How? When? Where? Who with?" "With Warren." "The Jennings guest of honor." "Their ever so handsome guest of honor." "Who no doubt got a monumental boner while dancing with you." "I wonder if it ever went down, even while I was dancing with someone else. A very virile man he is." "That kind of naughtiness was acted out all over the dance floor tonight. Marge trapped me a few more times." "I wasn't naughty on the dance floor." My husband waited, his breathing tight but steady, his eyes taking on a glitter of capacity. A Loving Wife's Story Ch. 06 "It suddenly got very hot. Body heat. Sexual heat. Hard cock heat. Wet cunt heat. I was desperate to go out and get some fresh air. Warren followed me out to the patio. The summer night was humid, but still refreshing. We were the only ones on the patio." "Others could have appeared at any moment." "Maybe that was why Warren took my hand and led us down the steps to a place against the patio wall, where it was very dark and private." "I see." "He kissed me." "And you slapped his face." "I opened my mouth to his insistent tongue and kissed him back, lost in his power, lost in the moment, lost in the sexual fire that came with us from the dance floor. He put his face in the rectangle of my dress and inhaled my skin, breathed on it, kissed and licked my tits." Jamie's cock was long and hard under his black tux pants. "And turned you into Scheherazade," he whispered. "I wish." I said. Jamie sat up straight. "What is that supposed to mean?" "My alter ego wasn't with me. It was all your wife Sondra, all on her own." "Wait a minute!" Jamie stood, quickly. He paced a broken turn on the carpet and glared at me. "You're saying this really happened?" "Yes, really. But only for a brief spell. As I told you. I regained my senses and told him no, it wasn't to be, that I must go back inside. He was extremely disappointed, but he was still a sensible gentleman. He didn't apologize. He said I was so fantastically beautiful he couldn't help himself. I didn't debate the point. He was so fantastically sexy I couldn't help myself either. For that brief moment." "Whoa. No. No, no, no. This isn't our script. You really having sex with a man." "I know. And what we did wasn't really having sex. But I really did kiss him and he really did nuzzle my breasts with his face. It was only a flash in time. But it was real. So very, very real. I had to tell you. It is not possible for me to go behind your back to do anything. It is not possible for me to ever deceive you." "And I thank you for that. I love you for that. But Sondra... Think. Think if you had been caught. Think of the consequences. All the tongue wagging. Think of me being a laughing stock." I did think, and very much liked the way Jamie was thinking. He was more disturbed by the risk of public scandal than by what I did. What I did with Warren was a separate disturbance, new to his conditioned capacity, formless and kinetic. "We didn't get caught, Jamie. No one was out there. No one saw us. Trust me on that." "I trust you, Sondra. But tonight you went too far. Any of our friends could have gone out to the patio for fresh air too, at any time. Even if they didn't see you kissing that man, they would still wonder, or imagine, and gossip." "I see where you are coming from. Please don't be angry at me." My husband stood still and looked at me, all his bristle softening and wilting and melting away. The one thing more alarming than my creating a public scandal was his ever feeling anger at me. That did not happen. It was alien to us. He sat back down beside me on the sofa. "Oh Sondra. My wife. Love of my life. I'm not angry at you. I'm only protecting us. We have our toy box we love to play with, but in privacy that is inviolate. We cannot allow our private pleasures to have public exposure. Ever. What you did tonight was a great risk. Don't you see that?" "Yes. I do see that. I promise you it will never happen again... Not like that," I added, and watched my husband's eyes scramble to focus on the "not like that" of three hours ago suddenly streaking off to out of mind futures. It was more than he could absorb. "You really did kiss that man?" "I really did." "What got into you, what led to that?" "Are you opening our toy box lid, my love?" He flinched, like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Well...yes, I suppose I am. In our privacy we both must protect at all costs." "What got into me? A mood that started when I asked you should I wear my panties or not. My sexy dress. The night out. The exhileration of feeling like the belle of the ball. And I was, to a high degree. A lot of men wanted to dance with me." "You were THE belle of the ball." Jamie said. "Hands down." "Feeling all those men get hard cocks when they danced with me. Their unspoken privilege to get hard, my privilege to feel them press against me. That happening all over the dance floor, I felt sure. And then there was Warren." I looked into Jamie's eyes and saw his unencumbered capacity. "Toy box wide open?" "Wide open." My husband said. "Eyes wide open?" "Wide to see all." His breathing tightened. The corners of his mouth twitched. "Warren was a man's man. Handsome in that manly way without being pretty. He was sure of himself. He knew I was primed for sexual adventure. And I was. The dress I had on, the tacit allowance given to all on the dance floor. His erection was my prize of the evening. The best of all. Bigger, harder, longer than any of the others. It fit to my cunt so nicely. Ohooooo..." I grabbed my husband's hand and brought it up my spread legs to press it hard to my cunt. Just like Warren's splendid cock had pressed hard. Jamie's wide opened eyes saw it all. "That's what got into me. We were practically dry fucking during our every dance. I might have had little mini orgasms. I know my panties got soaking wet." "And still soaking wet. My fingers feel it." Jamie said, with me and sharing. "Our body heat was searing. I had to get out, get some air. He followed me. No one else was out on the patio. It was that small one to the side, with the potted plants. You know it don't you?" "I think. Not sure I completely know the layout." "We were alone, but Warren took the precaution of leading us down the steps and out of sight. I never had a thought of resisting. With all that had got into me." I put my hand on Jamie's crotch. "Your big wonderful cock understands the state I was in." Jamie kissed me. Spontaneously and with passion. "He kissed me. I opened my mouth to his insistent tongue and welcomed his kiss. He touched my innocent virginal breasts. But at first the touch wasn't touch. His hand and fingers making sliding motions so close that the air between his fingers and my breasts seemed to have electrical charge that sent that exquisite pleasure all over and made my nipples stand up hard and wanting. Then his sliding fingers did touch, skin to skin, do delicately and gentle. Just like that. Oh yesssss. Just like that." Jamie's hand had risen to my breasts, on capacity volition, to delicately, gently stroke my breasts. Reenacting. He was with me. Breathless. Totally enthralled. His cock throbbed and I caressed it, gently, delicately, just as Warren and now my husband stroked my breasts framed in a rectangle of silk. "And at the height of the sweet, sweet, tremendously exciting pleasure Warren's stroking fingers gave me I thought of you. I did. I honestly did. How I would describe it all to you later. Share it all with you." "And now you do. Share it all." "He lowered his head and breathed on my breasts, nuzzled in the valley, kissed each one, licked them up and down. Yes Jamie, yes, yes, yes, just like that!.... My right nipple popped free and he sucked it into his mouth and I blanked out for a moment. But I came to and came to my senses. At last I regained that strict self control you ordered me to maintain. I apologized and told him we must stop. Wrong time wrong place. We didn't even know each other. And I was a married woman who loved her husband completely. I had just lost my head for moment. He was crushed, but saw I meant what I said, and he had no other choice really but to follow me back onto the patio and into the building. No one saw us. Believe me. And I was ready to go home. With you. Be with you. Share with you. And now I want you to take me to bed and fuck me." To be continued A Loving Wife's Story Ch. 07 The promises of last night always wake up to the morning after. The morning after a night of sharing with my husband a real but brief sexual adventure, and his taking me to bed to give me a shattering good fuck, held the therapeutic benefits I've come to expect. My body fulfilled and alive. My mind as free and happy as song birds flying from branch to branch. Open to the bask of summer Sunday morning sunshine. But Jamie was not entirely on my page. He turned inward. He was thinking. I had seen that mood before when a big business decision occupied him. There was no big business deal then. He was caught up in something else. The man I had kissed for real last night, the man who had sucked my nipple into his mouth and fed on it like it was a ripe sweet strawberry. I knew what he was thinking. I had to be patient. Our day played out in smooth routine. That evening he took the plunge. "About last night..." "You were marvelous. You were stupendous! No woman could ask for a more satisfying lover." "No woman could be more inspiring than you. But I was thinking of the antecedents." "The sharing that lit our fire." "Before that." "The dance. All those men with hard cocks." "You excursion outside." "His mouth kissing mine. His mouth sucking my nipple." "Yes. That. And your surrender to that. However brief." "It was brief. And I did surrender to him in that moment, feeling that ravishment a woman was born to feel with the right man. He was the right man in that brief but ravishing moment." "The right man, but, wrong time wrong place, you said." "Did I say that?" "That's what you told me you said to him." "Perhaps I did. Or perhaps when I was telling you about it my mind was exploring all the angles, and I said that only to you." "What angles?" "Well, another time another place, the right time and place, I could have taken his cock out of his pants, examined the reality of what had wet my panties while dancing with him, held his cock in my hand, taken it in my mouth." "If the time and place were right." "Yes. That kind of angle." Jamie was torn into separate halves. I could see it. My wording of the right time and place had lit his fuse, but he was frightened of the force of an unimaginable bomb about to explode. "I think our oh so exciting game has wandered into a mine field." "Then we must choose our path very, very carefully." "Or reverse direction entirely." "I leave that decision entirely to you. You are my husband. You are my love and my life. My shelter and my strength. I want only to serve you and please you." "You please more than I could ever explain to anyone else." ***** The next evening. "Did you and that Warren swap phone numbers?" "What?! You dare ask me that!" I was instantly hot with anger. Suddenly and rightfully. "Of course we didn't! Do you really think I would hide that from you if we did? I am not a sneaky wife who cheats on her husband!" "Okay, okay." Jamie said, with raised hands to placate my anger. Shocked that the anger had boiled up, the first time ever. "I was just thinking, what if he shows up again, makes contact with you again." "Warren is long gone. I don't even know his last name. He was only a chance encounter at a country club dance. Out of sight, out of mind." "You did say he was the right man. Only the time and place were wrong." "I was probably overstating. He was handsome and devilish sexy. His kisses drained all my will power, for a brief moment. But he wasn't right for reasons you stated and made me fully aware. A friend of the Jennings. A closer connection than we can allow. Too much risk of messy complications, and our exposure. No way I will ever let that happen." "My God, Sondra. You are expressing ideas and directions I never considered. You are leaving me behind." I kissed my husband, very softly and tenderly, our lips barely touching, as softly as Warren's hand had stroked my breasts. I said in a husky whisper, "You will catch up. I am patient." "I don't know what is going on in your head." "We are choosing our path through the mine field, very carefully." "I still have the choice of reversing direction." "Yes you do. Until you make that choice, we will venture on, very, very carefully." "This is scary." "My confession after the club dance was scary. With no Scheherazade to justify it. Very scary. My loss of control and brief surrender. Sharing that real event with you. Both of us charged with an excitement that was new and very different and even more powerful. It was for me. I know it was for you too. Wasn't it? Tell me honestly." "New and very different, that's for certain." "With an erotic punch more powerful because what I shared with you really happened. Admit it." Jamie slowly exhaled, emptying himself, looking down at the floor and then looking back into my eyes. "I have to admit it, in all honesty. But that doesn't remove the fact that you risked us, especially me, to exposure and ridicule." "I can see that now. I don't argue your point at all. I promised you it would never happen again... Not like that." "You leave a door open to it happening again in some other way." "Not with Warren of course. But, some man out there. In perfect circumstances that assures us privacy and safety. No one in our circles ever knowing or suspecting. I have given that some thought. Shall we think about it together?" "Jesus Sondra!" "You said not long ago you were sure Scheherazade and I could come up with something spectacular to present to you. A special gift, gift wrapped with the reality of a real other man just sort of entered my head. The man at the Marriott bar started it all. You liked that as much as I did. My sticking my toes in the water with Warren, so to speak, most certainly took our sharing to the highest level yet. His kisses happened. His mouth on my nipple happened. And my gift to you in telling you all really happened. Even though you were confused, your erotic charge on hearing what really happened was stronger than ever before. Imagine the story I could return to tell you if I really did find some man out there. Perfectly safe for us in all considerations. A handsome sexy man who wanted me, and I wanted him, and I let him fuck me. Imagine the story I would return to share with you. Ken and Kirk would lose all significance." My husband stared at me wide eyed and stunned. "Enough, Sondra. No more. This is insane. You are my wife. I could never let you do anything like that. We shouldn't even be discussing such a crazy idea." "You are wrong there. There is nothing we can't discuss. We have the strength of love and honesty to talk about anything. Others might consider it crazy that I told you all about Ken transforming me from a girl to a woman at the Red Rooster Inn. Crazier still I confessed to you my night of fantasy whoredom with Kirk at the Marriott. But I did. And it brought out something buried in both of us. Something extremely thrilling for both of us. Something that does not endanger or harm us. And what I'm saying to you now is only a vague idea in my mind. A what if extension of our magical toy box. The vague extension playing in my mind is shocking to you, not so much for me. My excursion to the patio the night of the dance did introduce me to a new world of possibilities." I paused. "Taking this next step. I am primed. You are shaken. Your wife actually going out to fuck another man for the purpose of sharing her experience with you. Most unusual to say the very least. But we are not common folk, my love. We are what we are. We have what we have. And it's only an idea. It will entail fantastic luck for me to find the right man, the right time and place. It might take years. It might never happen. I'm not demanding you say yes. For now, I simply ask you to imagine it." ***** The most powerful sex organ in the human body is said to be the human brain. So much goes on in our brains below the threshold of conscious awareness. Millions of signals flashed in the circuitry of our construction - organs, cells, muscles and blood paths - orchestrating our countless chemicals and enzymes and hormones to play their parts in harmonious concert. Every second, minute, hour of each day, asleep or awake. Some of this activity increases to trigger our awareness. And when awareness has birth in our brain, it becomes the servant to imagination. In the days that went merrily by, I could clearly imagine my husband imagining IT! There was no need to push the idea. My vague idea of our next step was now his idea, subject to all those chemical signals orchestrating beneath the threshold, and bursting onto the scope of his imagination. An imagination already shaped and seasoned by the ingredients of Ken and Kirk, the pizza boy, the man at the Marriott bar, and by Warren. There was no great change in Jamie. He was as cheerful and loving and loyal as always. But often he seemed to drift off in private rumination, his expression softened with speculation, even bemusement it seemed. I gave him his time and space. My patience buoyed on purpose. Weeks slid by. We lay in bed, wearing our matching unisex night wear of Burgundy red silk I had bought on line for us. Jamie's was a toga like gown that went to his knees. He loved the comfort of it, the sensuous feel on his skin, the freedom of movement. Mine was a chemise, half way to my knees, my breasts cradled but accessible. Sensuous on my skin, silky slick for my lover's caress. He cradled me in one arm, and with the other directed his hand to silky slick touches and caresses of my breasts and body. I sighed and purred, body chemical signals bounding over the threshold. No imagination required. "You still have that crazy idea in your head?" "Wrapped up, on a shelf in a closet far back in my mind. Gathering dust." "Could you really do that?" "I think I could, my love. I really think I could." He was silent for a while, but didn't stop his loving caresses. "I could because it would be primarily for you. To create that special gift for you." "You are very generous. But we can't overlook your own special benefits, apart from your sharing with me." There was no sarcasm or accusation in his voice tone at all. He spoke in measured thoughtfulness. "No, that can't be denied. The right man at the right time and place. My first other man since I married you. His body instead of yours. His cock instead of yours. His new style and rhythm and masculine vigor. I have thought of that. The delicious thrill that would be." "That's what I was getting at." "But that would be wished for, even essential! If I did not fully surrender myself to those private passions of sexual desire and joyful union with him, what would be the point? If I only went through the motions, permitted him to fuck me while I mentally made a grocery list or graded term papers, how would that make a special gift to share with you when I returned? How could that inflame your erotic capacity and bring you to that oh so special height of erotic transcendence?" My husband made no attempt to answer my questions. I realized how odd my argument would have sounded to a debating society judge, and I burst out laughing. "Some things do make sense." I said. "No matter how convoluted." And I laughed again. Uncontrollably. Jamie joined in. Uncontrollably. And we abandoned ourselves to orgiastic laughter, cathartic and releasing and cleansing. We laughed so hard our diaphragms began to ache. We settled down. We regained normal breathing. His hand caressed my breast. I felt for his cock nestled in the silk. It sprang to attention, engorged with heat and desire, quivering with readiness. I shrugged out of my chemise straps to free my breasts. We bunched our matching silk at our waists. I opened my legs to receive him and he entered me, taking my hot juicy reception. He loved my breasts with his mouth, and he fucked me. Sliding back and forth in me with tender loving grace, with sure manly energy, encapsulating us in the sublime purity of husband and wife making love. To be continued... A Loving Wife's Story Ch. 08 The momentum of the night before finally slammed into me as I drove to the University the next day to teach my classes. Slammed onto my chest and for a moment took my breath. The argument, explanation, justification I presented to my husband did make a crazy sense. A sense he must have recognized, and obviously tolerated, borne on the momentum to laugh with me, make sweetest married love to me. I didn't presume he had bought into my next step idea. But he had not given in to an explosion of revolt, either. I was certain he had imagined my next step more than once, as I had asked, and was electrified by the same erotic charge I had delivered to him in my Scheherazade role. His mind electrified with the theme of me out fucking a contemporary man, and returning home to tell him every detail. The next step a leap of immeasurable distance from what we had enjoyed so far, but, in broader context, not so very far removed either. The difference was a man in the present, not a lover from my single days. The difference was I was his wife, not a single girl, and no other man had fucked me since we married. One had ground his hard cock to my cunt on a dance floor, though, had kissed me and caressed my breasts and sucked one of my nipples into his mouth. Momentum, a consolidated force, had Jamie in a whirl, and I strongly suspected he might well be tottering on the edge. Then I examined where the momentum had taken me. The private benefits, as my husband had so astutely observed. My very brief contact with Warren on the country club patio, engendered by the powerful contact with his cock on the dance floor, made perfectly clear my susceptibility to sexual surrender to a man not my husband. Very brief it was, but oh so very thrilling, exciting, exhilarating, ravishing! And that was the key. The key that unlocked my restraints to experience another man, to share it all completely with my husband. To serve his personal capacity, and my own. I could do it. I knew then that I really, really could do it. But only with my husband's full complicity, his need to be with me in this next step of opening wider our magical toy box. ***** The days went on, each of us happily involved in our work, having happy communion in our marriage bed. The next step wasn't mentioned. Nor was it forgot. It was like a pregnancy we both carried, a planted seed germinating, taking growth and form, to be born in due course. I knew that because I know my husband. I knew how he can go to private space, his mind solving problems, when we are in the same room. I give him that space. I also knew and loved that special brain wiring he must have been born with, that we discovered together, that so inflamed him with erotic excitement, that enabled him to assemble mysterious disparate parts from deep inside himself and experience a time of unique personal completion when I told him stories of my sex with previous men. I knew my man. And I loved him with all my being. And my need to protect, nurture and nourish his occasions of need for personal completion was as strong as a maternal instinct. He was my Jamie and I was his Sondra. I saw no moral scruples to sweep under a rug. Or social ones either. The labels of "cuckold" and "slut" had no more effect on my thinking than us being labeled a radish and a turnip. We were too high beyond such nonsense. Although, as I thought about it, the word "slut" seemed to shed its derogatory clothing, and take on intriguing interest. After all, for one night when I was a college girl I was a pretend prostitute servicing a strange man in a bar. Being a joyful and liberated slut with a man in the next step would fit those private benefits my wise husband had foreseen. A deep, delicious sexual electricity zapped my insides. ***** "Whose turn to fix dinner tonight?" I said. "I have no idea." Jamie said. "I will be happy to." "I think you did last time. I have nothing thawed. We haven't gone out in quite a while." "No we haven't and we both need a change of pace." "A bit of excitement." "Take our minds off numbers crunching and dullard students." "Exactly. Let's do it." We showered together, a change of pace and warm arousal. He soaped and bathed my body from head to toe. I did the same for him. His cock rose high and hard. I praised it with touch and loving words and a dreamy smile of change of pace for the evening. He was dressed much sooner than me. In a tweed jacket, charcoal pants, light blue shirt and beautiful silk tie. He was gorgeous. I sat at my dressing table in sexy bra and panties, carefully applying my make up. Subtle and accenting, taking my time and concentration. Jamie went out to mix himself a drink. "Oh my, oh my..." Jamie said, when I joined him. I was wearing the country club dance dress. "Can't let it go to waste. Much too nice, and expensive. "Much too nice. And so provocative." He said. A warm and delicious shiver rippled my insides, teasing my cunt. "Bring back memories?" "Vivid ones." We were joined, our minds alive and ready to sing our duet of emerging need. Jamie chose an Indian restaurant. A pretty mahogany skin girl in a sari served us. She too was a willowy type, breasts round and larger than mine, buttocks round hemispheres, all discretely dancing and undulating under her wrap of silk when she moved. I checked often to see if Jamie was taken by her. Every time his attention was fixed solely on me, his eyes repeatedly returning to gaze at my creamy freckled breasts so provocatively exposed in my own frame of silk. And I felt that exultant power of being a superior woman. His woman. The only woman he desired. His loving wife. The food was fantastic, served in many bowls and plates that crowded our table top. Meats and vegetables and thin flat breads, all a blend of herbs and spices that exploded on the tongue with a star bust of possibilities. So perfectly balanced. Earthy, yet extolled by the pepper heat that made a common vegetable proclaim an importance unknown outside of Indian masala. "Too spicy?" "Perfect, Jamie. Absolutely perfect. The subtle blend of flavors. The cayenne giving the exact heat to my entire body to attune it with the insistent erotic urgency of those sitar ragas in our background music." "Perfect." "For our spicy evening out only underway." There wasn't a movie in town that interested us. Jamie left it to me to choose how we would round out our evening. I chose a bar-dance- club place that was trendy. So trendy hype said. For I had been secretly checking out such things, not exactly as a prelude to our next step, more as exposure to the scene. People on the loose, on the prowl, male and female hormones cruising. There was a cover charge. The trendy place seemed exactly what I had known years ago. For Jamie, though, it was something fairly new to wallow in. The crowd wasn't trashy. Most of the men wore jackets and ties. All the women were dressed to impress, in styles ranging from tit and ass hang out slutty to attire of considerable elegance. My dress did not take second stage to any. The bar was crowded and the center of action. We chose one of several empty tables near the dance floor. The crowd was a mixed bag of ages, the majority a bit younger than us. It wasn't over crowded that week day night. The music was all recorded and I wondered why a cover charge? To weed out the undesirables, I supposed, and agreed with the policy. Our drinks were served. "Lots of frisky chicks here tonight." I said. "None as beautiful as you." My husband said, his eyes sincere and happy looking into mine, his eyes lustful as they lowered and caressed my expanse of tits cradled in the silk frame. I suddenly felt Warren's feathery finger touch and his hot breath on my tits, just as happened on the patio months ago. I wondered if Jamie was having the same memory of my telling him? I hoped he was. I wanted his mind engaged with those exciting sensations, the new twist that created them, imagining them multiplied a hundred fold when we take the next step. "I give all credit to this special dress." I said with comely modesty. "All credit goes to the woman in it. You are reaping many admiring glances, and we've barely settled in." "Does that make you feel proud of me?" "Very. Very, very proud." "And me too. There is not a woman alive who wouldn't puff with pride at being admired by men, all men. Wearing this dress had special effect once before." "It brings back memories?" "Vivid ones. Lovely ones." "Admiring men." "With cocks that got hard on the dance floor." "One admiring man in particular." "Yes. One in particular. Who mixed the chemistry for a new and terribly exciting option for us." Jamie gazed into my eyes, with both calm question and restraint, unable to voice a thought. And I was flooded with feelings of sweet tenderness for him. "Dance with me." I said. The music wasn't ball room by a long shot. Jamie was a bit awkward in trying to produce some movement that simulated dancing. I fell into that easy and natural body language all women are capable of, and do when the time and mood are right, the sexual electricity is turned on, and inhibitions are shed. We stood apart. I danced as some other women about me were doing. I performed for him. Wanting him to see in my exposed tits, my bouncing ass, my lazy rhythm of pelvic hunches, a woman who loves to be fucked by a man, wants it, needs it, desires it. A proper woman naturally equipped to relish the opportunity to be a slut, a whore. I wanted my husband to see me in that light, to marvel and wonder. He clearly did that. So did other men, their eyes riveted to my body covered in silk, every move suggesting a readiness and a need to be fucked. Women are born with the ability to do this, this prolonged, brazen display of desire and availability. Men just get instant hardons, Which, of course, is the end goal of the woman. "Whew! I haven't done that in quite awhile." I said. We were back at our table. I was flushed and dewy with perspiration. "You put on a show I've never seen before." "A show for you long overdue. As the saying goes, if you've got it, flaunt it." "You've certainly got it." "I think I've always had it. This inner slut first let loose with Ken in the Red Rooster Inn. Next with Kirk and my prostitute night at the Marriott. Years later with Warren at the country club dance." I put my hand on his knee and trailed my fingers up to his crotch to trace the out line of his cock which grew hard under the fabric of pant's leg. "An inner slut that belongs to you, all for you, to share and enjoy." "I do enjoy. More than I have the courage to say." "You have the courage to enjoy, that is our anchor. The courage to say will come." We looked into each other's eyes. Mine probing his helpless seizure of erotic surge engorging his wonderful cock. His opened clear eyes waiting for my direction. The Scheherazade effect, so very effective and proven before. "Have you thought about the next step? Our bold new option?" "I've thought about it. More than I have the courage to say." He burst out laughing. Sheepish, self-effacing, but courageous in exposing his learned capacity to be entranced and ravished by my sharing with him my slut capacity in sex with other men. I squeezed his cock in my fingers. "This mighty man speaks volumes of courage. Maybe no more is needed." His manhood throbbed under my loving fingers. "How about this. Let's do a dress rehearsal of our option." Jamie was puzzled. "Select a man for me." "Oh. Okay. That one." He said, pointing an unspecified direction with his chin. "Which one? I can't read your mind." "The one sitting at the end of the bar. Blue suit, white shirt." I spotted him. A short portly man, bald with a horse shoe fringe of hair making a ringer on his head. He wore thick rimless glasses. He goggled at the women dancing on the crowded floor. I lifted my hand from Jamie's throbbing cock and smacked him sharply on the shoulder, with petulant, pouting annoyance. "Get real! You must take this rehearsal seriously. Here is where we practice our staging, our exit entrance cues, our dialogue, all the nuts and bolts of our opening night option. At the very least I need a good looking man to make it realistic." Jamie laughed again. "Very well. But you are the star, the leading lady, so it should be your privilege to select a man that most appeals to you." "Good point. A very good point indeed. Now that is really taking our rehearsal seriously. I will survey the stable." I put my hand back on his cock and lightly fingered it while I leisurely canvassed the men all around, building suspense, bringing my husband's erection to a bigger harder state. "Hummmm...not bad. That one is even better, but not good enough." Jamie's head was in a twist to locate and keep up with my appraisals, but I stayed ahead. "Found him!" I said. My chosen man was on the dance floor in front of us, about fifteen feet away. He was dancing with a woman in a slutty version of "the little black dress." He was putting on a show that echoed the one I performed for Jamie and my general male audience. My quick glance saw that several women were interested in his rhythmic, flaunting presentation, especially some women dancing with partners close by. Their eyes were riveted to his pelvis. "He looks like a cliché from a Mafia movie." Jamie said in haughty derision. "Don't let the black curly hair mislead you. He could be Hispanic. Some strain of American Indian. Even one of those from a lost tribe of Israel or Arabia." "Nope. Pure Vinnie from a Mafia movie. I thought the gold nugget neck chain and shirt unbuttoned to the navel went out of style by the nineties." "At least he wears a black jacket with wide lapels. Opened to show off that rug of chest hair." I added. "Those white pants are so tight I wonder how he put them on." "Or put that banana in his pocket." "More like a butternut squash." I said, squeezing Jamie's cock hard to convey the strength of my fantasy. "That guy really turns you on?" Jamie said, disbelieving. "Well..." I hedged, deliberated. "He does have a sort of wild animal power that speaks to a woman's cunt. I bet that round muscular ass of his could drive his cock to churn out a fabulous story to tell to the man I love." Jamie gave that reluctant consideration. "And it's not like I will be bound to him. Just a good hot fuck for an hour. Or two or three. Then wave goodbye and never see him again. And what a hot story I would have to bring back home to share with you!" "Did Ken and Kirk look anything like this guy?" "No where close. And neither did Warren, come to think of it." I removed my hand from Jamie's cock and joined it with my other hand on the table top, canting towards him for serious talk. "Vinnie, as you rightfully peg him, is just a hasty fantasy our dress rehearsal allowed. That's why this rehearsal is so needed. To define the roles, the plot. The man I select to exercise our option must be in our class, generally speaking. Social, economic, educational, somewhere in the neighborhood. Safe and secure from any fall out. But still packed with potential to create a wonderful event to share with you. That is our goal, our only purpose. To take Sheherazade to the next level and join me in giving reality to your erotic reward, instead of invention or old memories. What a fabulous treasure chest our toy box would become! Just imagine it!" My husband looked off in the raucous distance, where lights flashed and the music beat like jungle drums celebrating carnal freedom, imagining it. I knew he was. By the many conflicted signals in his eyes and face, his tight breathing. I reached for his hand and held it tightly. He squeezed my hand tightly without looking at me, but in that I knew he was on the very edge of yielding to temptation. "Your courage to say yes will come, my love. It will come." He looked at me then. That deer caught in the spot light look was a perfect description. "So." I said brightly. "On with our dress rehearsal. Let me see what other goodies are on offer." I looked over the men with merry eyed speculation, but as focused as a robin scouting for a worn in a manicured lawn. "There's one. I do believe he measures up to our criteria. A handsome man too, don't you agree?" My choice sat at the bar. A single man apparently, well built, wearing a business suit of good cut and cloth, radiating masculine confidence and energy. He watched the dancers without envy, but fully appreciative of boobs and butts on display. My kind of man, in the broadest sense, certainly in our sense of rehearsal. "He seems conventionally clean and presentable, if that's what you mean." Jamie said. "I really have no ready opinions of what makes a man handsome. That is strictly a female thing. Much better than your sleazy Vinnie pick, for damn sure." "Forget Vinnie. He was just a brief trigger for my slut fantasy, self-generated when I got slutty for you on the dance floor. In fact, the pounding power in his muscular ass caught even my fantasy by surprise. A woman loves a pounding power fuck now and then. You should know that, having given me many glorious ones." My husband smiled faintly, with a tic of smug pride. "Other men, Ken and Kirk, gave me seriously pounding power fucks, and my telling you had tremendous power effect on your erotic psyche." My husband had that deer in the spot light look again. "My man at the bar is handsome. That is the leading edge of male attraction for a female. But here it gets complicated. All the minutiae of what makes a man attractive and desirable is so individual to the woman she really can't explain it to anyone else." "So you alone know why you are attracted to that man at the bar, and that puts me outside looking in." "In that one particular, yes, I'm afraid so. But you are not outside. You will never be. Any and everything I can put into words I will, to share all with you. That is a promise and it is fixed and can never be altered. That is what we are now rehearsing. How to do that. To move to the next level and have the most searing erotic excitement we can have." We sat in silence for a while. That is, without speaking, in the flashing lights and artificial music and jungle beat of carnal imperative, lust fleshy and rampant on the dance floor. I had delivered a ton of dramatic lines, heavy with import, in our dress rehearsal, and Jamie was masticating them like a cow chewing a cud. I shuddered with a bounding hope. That Jamie's imagination was in harmony with my line of bold assumptions, our next step, our beckoning option, my taking a lover to enrich our toy box with bountiful savory delights. For both of us to feast on. "Pee call for me." I said. "Be right back. Don't wander off." I maneuvered about to pass by my rehearsal lover sitting at the bar. I swung my hips and flexed my buttocks, a woman on the prowl, feeling my husband's eyes locked on my sexual vitality. When I reached my chosen man I paused in lost perplexity. "Where are the rest rooms?" He pointed. "That way." "Thank you." "You look beautiful in that dress." "Thank you." We smiled at each other. I walked on, my buttocks bobbing and curtsying to the helpful gentleman. I emptied my bladder and sat a while in pulsating review. My rehearsal lover was only average, but with enough attraction to grow on an awakened women. Over time. My time with Jamie that night controlled my thoughts. His seeming comfort in our rehearsal game, my constructing the stage, scripting the lines, giving directorial guidance to plot structure and emotional content, preparing him to build the courage to say "yes." I felt in my bones and in my cunt that would happen in time. He would slough off that last resistance and give me trusting permission to take a lover and share all with him. He, as much as I, had imagined the stunning rewards our next step option could bring. And the rehearsal was producing practical benefits. A Loving Wife's Story Ch. 08 It was very clear to me my option choice of lover must be a man fitted to my husband's comfort zone. Some man pretty much conventional in appearance and manner, stable in life and hobbies, trust worthy and reliable in business and social intercourse. Some man with class and education, who posed the very least or none at all risk of adverse consequences to us. His physical attraction mostly left to my antennae. The very kind of man most fitted to MY comfort zone! A win-win situation tailor made for us. I then wondered if there existed any other married couple who ever considered, and did, what I wanted to do for Jamie and for us. Open marriage, swinging couples, and the ever ubiquitous cheating wife didn't even come close to what Jamie and I had discovered and found so rewarding. Kinky sex it might be, but it was perfectly right for us. It thrilled us and did not damage us. I compared our kink and next step to a well heeled couple wanting to buy vacation property. The husband required it be near water - sea, lake, river, babbling brook, so long as water was nearby. He also required ready access, standard utilities, low taxes and clear title. Other than that, he turned all fantasy development over to his wife. Log cabin, stone cottage, fire place or cast iron stove, the wife was given carte blanche. And she agreed totally with his requirements, and was deliriously happy with freedom to design a refuge where she and her husband would seek respite from daily grind and know only carefree indulgence. And in that freedom of choice was a driving loving need to make every detail of her chosen architecture a source of pleasure for her husband to enjoy each and every visit. A beautiful comparison, most descriptive of our next step, fitting and inspiring. I returned to our table, and on the way was surprised to see an empty stool where my lover had been. "What happened to my rehearsal lover?" I said, when I sat next to Jamie, my thigh snug to his. "I should know? Maybe he went home to his wife." "Wife is good. A married man is best. Responsible. Safety conscious." "I saw you speak to him." "I needed directions to the rest rooms. He complimented my choice of dress." "I saw your sexy ass smile back at him as you walked on." "Pure reflex." "Are your panties in your purse?" I laughed. "No. Not this time. He will remove my panties himself, the last act, the final scene." "And then the curtain falls to wild applause." "The curtain falls, but all the wild applause will be entirely in you. No one else will see or know. You are the producer Angel, my lover and I are only serious actors in roles performed exclusively for you. I will fuck him with open joy, and he will fuck me with full desire, but all will be for you. Only you will be there to praise me. And love me." Jamie stared into my eyes, into my soul, serene with knowledge of me, well adapted to his capacity to be enflamed with erotic excitement by my sharing my sexuality with him. filled with love for me. "Let's go home." "I'm ready. Tomorrow is a work day." We drove home mostly in silence, both of our minds churning with the over powering effects of our next step rehearsal. So much was laid out and put in proper place. So much was established. So ravishing was the excitement of possibility within our reach. My husband was with me. But I knew he would need more time to solidify the courage to say, with no reservations, "Yes. Let's do this. I want it to happen." We undressed in our bedroom. We gazed on beautiful nakedness with heightened lust of rehearsal effect twanging our viscera. "Have a seat there." I said, pointing to one of two comfortable chairs. He sat. I took a pillow from the bed and put it on the carpet between his feet. I knelt on the pillow. "I kneel to you my husband. Filled with more love than any wife ever had for a husband. My love is all for you and only for you. I adore you. I worship you." I slipped the O ring of my lips over his cock head and sucked. The spongy firm became instant steel hard. But the coat of skin still silky soft. The musky smell of man groin wafted up and I breathed it in. The divine aroma and taste of his cock in my mouth. Pure sex and pure sexual communion. My lips progressing down, his cock head flare progressing to my throat. My husband, my God. I dissolved to pure giving. Loving him. Pleasuring him. Exulting in his helpless moans and jerks. His cock head swelled to climax tightness and his cum shot into my mouth, thick and viscous, and I drank the nectar from him. "You are my husband. My God. I adore and worship you." To be continued... A Loving Wife's Story Ch. 09 The next evening, home from work. "About last night..." Jamie said. "The way you worshiped and adored me. I could get very accustomed to being treated like a God. I don't know if I have ever come as hard as that." "You have always been God like for me. I just put it into those words for the first time. Early in the first year of our marriage honeymoon, I knew that sex with you had a quality of divinity. That grew and will never stop growing. Then all that you are apart from sex made me the luckiest woman on earth to be married to you. Combine the two, and I do dissolve into a state of worship when I take your cock in my mouth and love and adore it, worship it, hunger for your cum to nourish me." "Then your devastating blow job last night wasn't a part of your rehearsal." "No! That was entirely for you! What a hurtful question!" "Well, considering our night out, my giving you selection rights to a rehearsal lover for the next step, I naturally wondered if..." My husband's question had rocked me, hurt me. He did not fully understand the boundless depth of what I meant in saying he was like a God for me. That I truly did worship and adore him, with my mouth, my cunt, my tending to his needs and comforts every minute of every day, loving him with all the mind, body and soul I possessed. "My love, my love, my love... Now is the time to carve in stone the truth that rules and will never leave us. You are my husband, I am your wife. We found each other. We found our destiny. We were born to love each other, and no one else. That is truth everlasting. Our wonderful toy box just suddenly appeared and opened a world of delights for both of us. But it is only that. It only defines a part of what we are. It does not define the whole of us. The whole of us is my loving only you, and you loving only me. My loving you like a God, you loving me like a Goddess, which you do and always have done. That is our truth. This option we are considering, playfully rehearsing, is something apart from the binding love we have and are. Do you understand that?" He stared into my eyes, into my heart. He held me in God like embrace, and said, "Yes." My insides collapsed and I collapsed in his arms. Tears spilled from my eyes in the most powerful and joyful emotional release since he asked me to marry him. Even more powerful and joyful. For that moment was a soar of intimacy and loving trust higher than we had ever experienced before. Greater than his discovery of his erotic inflammation by my sex with other men, his shame, my happy support of that, and his final acceptance of that part of him. Because my sex with other men that filled him with such devastating excitement was only a temporary visitation to our lives. Our married love superceded and dominated all else, always. We kept that moment alive and reverent through out most of our evening. Preparing our dinner. Tidying the kitchen. Sipping after dinner drinks. Light and easy conversation. Deeply and forever in love. When we went to bed Jamie was a manly version of a happy and playful puppy. I was in loving wife mode, ready to serve my husband's every need. "About our rehearsal last night." I said. "I thought it went very well. Didn't you?" "I suppose so. You led. I could only follow along." "You had your part though. You gave me right of selection of our option man. That's a big step into our next step." "That seemed the logical thing to do." "And it was! It is. Giving me that trust." "So how does it continue, this rehearsal? What is act two?" "The script calls for me to meet him again. Naturally enough." "You and I return to that club every night to see if he shows up? Or you alone, natural speaking." "Better than that. He gave me his phone number." "I hope you didn't give him yours!" "I'm not an idiot. I'm just the star and author of our toy box play." "Are you going to call him?" "Of course. The script demands I do." The next evening. "So. Did you call him today?" "I did. With my caller ID blocked, you'll be happy to hear. He was certainly surprised too. I told him I did so because he has the looks and masculine chemistry I like in a man. He said he gave me his number because I was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. I took that with a grain of salt, but it was flattering to hear all the same. Women are so vain. His name is Brad." "A mutual admiration society." "That's how it's supposed to be. Attraction. Allure. Chemistry. Then the slow rising flames of lust." "Getting well acquainted first does no harm either." "Absolutely. That is why I kept it short and told him I would call again." The next evening. "I called my next step lover again." "To get acquainted." "Yes. He is divorced. A lawyer on a tread mill with little time for play and meeting women. More than a little horny, although he didn't put it that way. I told him I was married. He gave a flowery tribute to how lucky my husband was." "A least he is not stupid." "I told him he had stirred great interest in me, and that I had a penchant for adventure. He said he would love to be a part of my spirit of adventure." Three evenings later "He wants us to meet up, as you might expect. Horny man and adventurous wife can only get so far on a cell phone. Are you ready to say yes? Be my co-conspirator, toy box partner, take this next step and say yes?" "In for a penny, in for a pound. And the script is already written for you to meet with him, isn't it? Coffee, a drink, somewhere discreet." "I haven't read ahead that far, but you are no doubt correct. I had to hear you say yes first. Give me your trust and permission, make my adventure OUR adventure. Other wise there would be no point to reading ahead. Oh Jamie. This is such delicious naughty fun! Are you feeling it?" "Beginning to." I gave him tight squeeze bear hug. I reached down to feel the outline of his cock. "Not an oak tree woody now, but it will be. That's why actors on a stage, Broadway or toy box, rehearse. Get their minds into it. Find out what does and doesn't work." A week later. Workday morning. "I might be home a little late this evening." "Oh? Faculty meeting?" "A meeting of another sort. With Brad. For drinks. At the Marriott." "Your favorite watering hole." "That place has a way of bringing me out, doesn't it. If it ain't broke don't fix it, as they say. Better yet, the place is so large an adventurous wife can hide her tryst there. Highly unlikely anyone we know will be around." "That is most important!" "I'm fully aware. No one else can ever have the slightest suspicion we possess our wonderful toy box, much less what is in it. That is for me to give to you, and for us alone to enjoy." My husband absorbed my words, with serene calm and a just perceptible under current of erotic arousal. His undeclared but implicit "yes" to my plan. My first date with my next step lover. Rehearsing our parts for the real curtain rise. Getting our minds and our libidos into it. I kissed him tenderly. "I'll see you sometime this evening." It took some effort to concentrate on academic duties all day, but I managed. I ate a late and heavy lunch and when my open office hours passed I locked my office door. In the spirit of rehearsing to meet a man and eventually fuck him, I intended to arrive home late. I had time to kill, and there was in fact work to catch up on. I got down to work. My mind wandered. Our next step. My fucking another man to share it all with my husband. A wild and crazy idea that sort of snuck in and established squatter's rights. I saw great potential in the idea. Jamie was frightened, then wary of the notion, but slowly succumbed to curiosity and intrigue, his imagination given free reign. If we did it, it would give us a sharing more exciting than any before. More exciting than either of us could really imagine. Suppose when I returned to Jamie he could detect the smell of the man on me? His cologne, his sweat, his body and groin odors, the meaty smells of sex... How long and fat and fiercely hard Jamie's cock would become! Bigger and harder still when I recreated every detail of the man fucking me. Oh yes! My gift this time would be an erotic treasure chest for my husband to hoard and have his unique personal completion. Because this time the gift would be a man fucking his wife, not a memory man fucking her when she was single. There was no question at all that I could do this. No question, no doubt, that I wanted to do this and would do it if my husband shed his last reserve and completely gave himself to the adventure. He was leaning so much my way he was almost at the point of over balance. And our rehearsal had a pull of increasing strength. But that last jerk of erotic dominance over his last resistance awaited. His unequivocal blessing: "Yes my wife, do this for us to share and thrill in." He was close and getting closer, but not all the way in. I had to be patient. Then there were my private benefits. A privacy totally open to Jamie on recount, but still privately mine in his physical absence. When I first told him of my experiences with Ken and Kirk, I told him the high points of all I could remember. But there are so many nuances and subliminal delights in fucking a man that no woman can remember them all until odd moments later, even years later - his body construction, his strength and power of motion, the special quality of his kisses, even the timbre of his groans and grunts and that very individual raw animal bellow when he thrusts deeply and comes. And all that coincides with the woman experiencing her own nuances and thrills and rippling rolling waves of pleasure building to orgasm. Most of which can't be translated for complete sharing. That was true of Warren at the country club dance. My introduction to a man not my husband giving heat to my sexuality and opening me to experience private thrill. I couldn't describe the flush of sweet pleasure that swept all over my torso when Warren caressed my breasts with fingers as light as air. When his mouth claimed my nipple. A thrill and pleasure greatly intensified because the man making love to me wasn't my husband. How do I describe that to my husband? I wished I could. I wished I knew how. I wanted my husband to be as closely joined to my experience as possible, for that was the only reason I wanted to fuck another man at all. To share with Jamie. But I knew there would be a wealth of private sensations and thrills and pleasures for me alone. Starting with the attraction and all the mutual seduction steps leading to him and the bed, for an hour or two or three or more of socially forbidden ravishing bliss. Not forbidden by my husband, though. My ravishing bliss with another man would be my gift to him. In the spirit of our rehearsing my fucking another man, Jamie had seen it logical that I choose the man. Since I had the right of choice, what would make an ideal man for me? Every boy and man I fucked before I married had many good qualities. Some where more confident and skilled than others. But from all their qualities and parts I could not construct a fantasy ideal. How odd. Could it be my husband was the ideal, not to be surpassed? For marriage he most certainly was. But now my special privilege and focused interest was an ideal man to fuck me, most likely once, and I never see him again. Yet the irresistible ideal could only take fuzzy, indistinct shapes. How strange! I found my hands had risen of their on accord to tease, tickle and pull my nipples under cloth. My self pleasuring felt lovely, but I identified that feeling with my husband. Then with memories of Warren on the country club patio. A man not my husband. It then occurred to me that I should focus on the ways my lover would be different from my husband. Different in ways that would thrill and conquer me, take me to sexual heights in a different matrix. Some one bigger and taller than Jamie? Different hair and eye color? Broader and thicker chest? Much more body hair? A man a bit more dominant and aggressive than Jamie? Basic differences in character and personality. If they were present and the man wasn't a selfish jerk otherwise, then my new lover would be quite attractive, and I would respond to him with open arms and eager opened cunt. I certainly would. For my private fantastic pleasure. I had to have that or the whole enterprise would be a bust. My husband now understood that. A bigger cock? Was that part of the ideal? I was never concerned by cock size before. Some seemed huge to me at the time, others less so. All felt very good buried deep in me. Jamie's cock was the ideal size as far as I was concerned. Still, one bigger than Jamie's, longer and thicker, that stretched me wider and went deeper, would that be the greatest thrill of difference? My fingers went under my dress and felt my panties soaking wet. I massaged my cunt with four fingers width to simulate the girth of the biggest cock to ever enter me. Yes. Oh yes. A cock much larger than Jamie's was a difference I could enjoy. I most certainly could. I masturbated my wet cunt and clit harder and faster and brought myself to orgasm. I came out of my trance and saw out the window it was late twilight. I left my office, maybe the last one out of the building. Rehearsal. Practice makes perfect. I stopped by a bar where it would be unlikely to see anyone I knew. I wanted alcohol on my breath for realism. I settled on a bar stool and ordered a sweet red wine liqueur to scent my breath. It wasn't a high class bar, or low either. Working class I supposed. More men than women, and few of the men wore suits. All were friendly and polite. All sized me up, puzzled as to who I was and what I might be all about. A professional woman by dress and appearance. In two minutes two men were sitting either side of me. They introduced themselves. One was a weight lifter type you see on a car lot in TV commercials, cheerfully demanding all viewers come down today and buy a new Ford Explorer. The other wore a UPS uniform. It hit me that this was the first time since I married that I sat on a bar stool alone, surrounded by lean, vigorous men about my age. And in my rehearsal frame of mind I silently did a check list of their attractive attributes, and some mild speculation of how they might perform in bed. They weren't movie stars, but looked good enough. Neither of them would have the vaguest idea who T.S. Eliot might be, or J.S. Bach for that matter. But that didn't matter to good sex either. It also hit me there was no such thing as the ideal man for our next step. The man would just have to click for me, simple as that. The men on either side of me were obviously attracted to me, but they seemed to have adopted a competitive duel to see which could be the most respectful by good ole boy home spun charm. And I was charmed to a warm degree. But I had to get home to my husband, with alcohol on my breath, and sexual excitement on my mind. "I'm baaaaack!" I shouted. Jamie came from the kitchen and beamed at me. "Hello sweetheart. Hungry?" "A little. Quite a bit." "How about spanakopita and ground lamb kofta?" "You cooked that for me? My God I do love you so much." I ran to him and hugged him and kissed him." "You've been drinking!" "What did you expect I'd do? Meeting my next step lover at the Marriott lounge." Jamie was taken aback. My liqueur breath real, our next step rehearsal all pretend. He regained his bearings. "Ah. Yes. Of course. And how did the meeting go?" "Very well, in fact. He is becoming nicer all the time. We'll talk about it while we eat." We sat at the dining nook in our kitchen. The smell of kofta spices hung in the air. "What a perfect little dinner!" I exclaimed. "Tell me all about it." "Yes. Telling you is what this is all about. Well.... We talked. His personal statistics are about what we expected. Hard working professional, well off financially, no skeletons in his closet that I could find, on the surface at least. I let him know I was a professor at the university, though not which discipline I taught. My alias is Zelda, by the way. Good choice?" "Am I Scott." "You remain a mystery. In the background. Most of the focus was me, having the hots for him, which was mysterious in itself. Our attraction founded on less than a minute of asking for directions to the ladies room. You will recall." "I do recall. I also recall you jiggling your fabulous at him when you walked off." "Did I? In certain circumstances, my ass tends to have a mind of her own. Just like, when Scheherazade visits, your cock has a mind of its own." "And this late afternoon in the Marriott lounge, what mind was your ass in?" "Pretty much in neutral, at first. My top mind was in control. Assessing Brad to see if he would be the ideal man for our plan. And driving home tonight, you know what? I concluded there was no such thing as the ideal man. He had to meet our social and educational requirements, of course, and be clean and very discrete, but otherwise the man had to click for me. And clicking is something so internal and mysterious it cannot be easily projected." "I see. So even with all those drinks you had, Mr. Brad wasn't up to snuff as a clicker." "I had only one drink, and Mr. Brad had a lot of effectives clicks for me. I was only saying an aside of insight. The sort of thing rehearsing brings out." I gave Jamie a broad smile of sharp point. "Okay then. The effective clicks, I believe you called them." "His polished charm. His confidence. His powerful but relaxed masculinity. Quite the handsome man he is. All that clicked, clicked, clicked for me." My smile at my husband then was inquisitive. How did my words settle in his mind? Did they have sharp cutting edges? Did they ease into the erotic matrix of his kink and tickle his curiosity? Did they work as rehearsal words? My feeling was they worked. Jamie showed no signs of disturbance. From what I saw in his face, he wanted to hear more, and that was exactly the goal our rehearsing reached for. "We sat in a wall booth on the dark edge. Where you and I sat our last time there. Maybe even the same booth, now that I think about it. I'm sure you can see it in your mind." "Clearly." "Good. Excellent. I want you to clearly see me with him. We talked and got acquainted. I asked the necessary questions to satisfy me there were no red flags of warning to worry about. He is on our level, but in a social circle apart from ours. No mutual friends or acquaintances. Divorced. Needing a woman for relief, I had no doubt. He was upfront in letting me know he found me very attractive and had sexual desire for me. Not in crude language, but in eye contact, roving eye over my body, clever double entendre of wording. Things every woman recognizes and is greatly flattered by, at least, if her cunt doesn't squeeze and get slippery." "Your cunt squeezed and got slippery." "Yes it did. You know me well. It was then my turn to reveal my sexual desire for him. Convince him that this married woman had found in him an irresistible attraction in only a passing moment at a public dance club. That married or not he had a hook in me I couldn't shake free. Now you tell me what man wouldn't be greatly flattered on hearing an attractive sexy married woman say that to him?" "To say the least. If his cock didn't get rock hard. Did it?" "That was later." I said with a fat, smug smile of suspense. I got out of my chair and put my hand on Jamie's crotch to feel his cock half hard then throbbing hard under my tender squeeze. "I see you're not holding back. That is good." I returned to my chair and ate a few bites, smiling at my husband while chewing, building the suspense. "I hinted that I had done this before with a couple of men over the years. That I had this weakness I couldn't control when the exactly right man came along. And he was the exactly right man once again. But I also made it clear to him I wasn't a slut and would protect my husband and marriage at all costs. He thought that was the most sane and sensible thing a married woman could possibly say." A Loving Wife's Story Ch. 09 "Then you had him hooked." "You see it clearly don't you. This is good. You are with me. From that point on there was tacit understanding he wanted to fuck me and I wanted to fuck him and all else was a matter of time and logistics. My being married, with a weakness that wanted him out of all other available men to fuck me was a fast hook and one he gobbled down. I only had to reel him in." "Women are witches." "We can be, when the occasion calls for it. Women can also be sluts. Any woman can be. If she wants to be. At the right time, in the right place. You know I can be. And you love it don't you. That inner slut I am able to release at the right time, the right place, with the right man." "It makes for stories that transforms me. I have to vouch for that." "And now there is a story in the making that will take you to heights of erotic excitement more ravishing than any I've told you before. I promise you that!" We smiled at each other, wicked smiles. I could see Jamie mentally sifting a stream of visual details pouring into the adamant promise I made to him. More details than he could sort out. "Let's leave clean up for tomorrow. Continue this in the bed room." We wiped our mouths with napkins, stood, and I reached for his cock to hold it like a handle to lead him to the bedroom. "I'm hooked and you are reeling me in." Jamie said. I burst out giggling with that utter delight of liberation, on a sexual high, splashing in a pool filled with balloons of possibility, and with a large measure of triumph that my husband was really hooked into my plan for our next step. The way he had joined our rehearsal of making pretense a reality. Already there were times when neither of us could readily distinguish the fictitious "Brad" from reality. I intended to have more of that. We dispensed with a shower. I wanted us to go to bed a little dirty, smelly, my cunt wafting aromas of sex. He was naked and lying on the bed before I had my blouse off. He very slowly stroked his cock standing tall and proud as he gazed on me. I undressed very slowly, doing a strip tease, turning my eyes to his cock and slow moving hand after each item was removed. My glances at his cock and hand were half lidded sultry, but fascinated, conveying I knew what he was thinking and loved what he was thinking. How desirable I must look to "Brad" or any other man of my choice, how sexy I would be alone with him. I deliberately picked up my clothing, bending low, slowly, to spread my ass and let him see the juice glisten on my cunt lips. I walked to the laundry hamper with my hips swaying and my ass cheeks bobbling. When I dropped my panties in the hamper I turned and looked over my shoulder at Jamie's hand slowly, almost absent mindedly stroking his cock. My half lidded sultry look of riveted fascination, only my pupil dilations saying "I know you are thinking of another man fucking me. I love what you are thinking." I got on the bed and hugged and kissed my husband. "Now! Where were we?" "In the booth in the Marriott lounge." "Ah yes. There. He didn't speak any preliminaries. He suddenly stood up and came to my side of the table and sat close to me. He put his arms around me and turned me to him. He kissed me. A good kiss. A very good kiss. I was immediately sexually responsive. All natural responses. The second man since I married to kiss me. It was like being in the shelter of the patio wall kissing Warren. A different man mouth on mine. A different man tongue snaking into my mouth, insistent and taking. A different taste. But all very exciting and overpowering. I let all go and returned his kiss. Sexual excitement and pleasure was released in me. In that moment I forgot you and all else in the world. There was nothing else but his mouth kissing mine, his arms around me. The man you gave me the right to choose. The man I chose to fuck me." I reached for Jamie's hands and brought each one to my breasts. He turned to comfortably love my nipples with his fingers. Our favorite actions when Scheherazade told him an inflaming story. Instead of my hand going to my cunt to tease my clit, I put it on his cock. "Oh yes." I murmured. "So big and hard and hot your cock is. Let go and experience it all. My gift to you." "I will, I do, I am. Tell me more..." "I reached for Brad's hand and placed it on my tit. His hand knew what to do. Cupping, weighing, teasing, pulling, unexpected hard pinches that sent jolts of sexual electricity straight to my cunt. Just like you are doing. Just like that. Oh yes! Just like that." The jolts of sexual electricity tightened my belly and my pelvis make a spastic hunch up from the mattress. My husband's cock in my hand pulsed and throbbed. "I need to ask you something now." "Ask away." "How did you feel knowing I was with him, you waiting for me to come back? What was going on in your mind, in your gut?" "Hummm. Well, hard to say. I had no idea exactly when your meeting was. I suppose I was all anticipation of you coming back to tell me everything. How the meeting went. If you found him all to your approval and satisfaction. Things like that. A dose of nervous jitters too. Can't deny that." "I suspect your dose of nervous jitters will be like eagle claws when the time comes for us to meet and he fucks me." "I suspect you are right. More right than I'm able to imagine." "Or I can imagine. That is something that will happen all on it's own. A major part of the experience. Something like losing virginity. No power of imagination is equal to the actual experience. And the same for me. What feelings in my head and gut when I drive to his place to be naked with him, spread my legs wide for his cock to enter me? I will have as much nervous jitter as you back home waiting." "Maybe as much. But of a much different kind, I would think." "Yes. Much a different kind no doubt. I will be going to fuck a man not my husband, with my husband's complete knowledge and blessing. Even so, my nervous jitters will be tremendous... In both cases, we can only wait and see. And compare notes later. That will give a new intensity to our sharing. Don't you agree?" "Intensity might be too weak a word." I laughed. I held his cock tighter and felt it swell even tighter. "Your hard cock is very intense just thinking about. When I actually go out to do it, you might need a wheelbarrow to carry your cock around...That brings up another question I must ask you. Suppose Brad has big cock, a really big one, bigger than yours. Would you want me to tell you, or keep that detail buried?" "If his cock gets bigger than mine while I'm home waiting, he will need a fork lift to move it around." We both burst out laughing. Then Jamie paused and said, "Are you hoping his is bigger than mine?" "Not a bit. I was just reading ahead in the script, and thought we should clear the air on that subject. That is a nightmare of many men, that some other man with a bigger cock will fuck their girl friend or wife and he will never satisfy her again." "That's a nightmare I never had, but now that bring it up, you said awhile ago his cock got hard later. You found that out when he kissed you? You giving me warning he has one bigger than you ever had before?" "All I found out was he is well hung. Actually, the thought of how you might feel about hearing our option man having a bigger one than yours popped into my head while I was waiting for my date time with him. Since you said it was logical that I select the man, I tried to imagine the ideal man to select, and found it difficult to come up with an ideal man. While sifting all the variables, I wondered if a cock bigger than yours would be a bonus, and what you might think of that?" My husband thought about that. Gave it serious thought. "If his cock is bigger than mine, and that is a bonus, the bonus is all for you. Obviously." "And whatever that bonus might be is something I will only know when it happens. Which returns me to my question. If my selected man has a cock bigger than yours, or Ken's or Kirk's or any other man that fucked me before, and it gives me a distinctly new and thrilling pleasure, would you want me to describe that to you when I return for our sharing?" My husband thought again, thought seriously. My hand on him could not pick up what his big hard cock was thinking independently of his brain. Finally, he said simply, "Yes. I would want you to tell me every detail. Leave nothing out. Everything you feel, no matter how extraordinary your sensations and pleasures might be. That total sharing is why we do this." I fell apart. Collapsed in a jelly like blob of quivering emotional substance that was close to the releasing power of an orgasm. "That total sharing is why we do this." My husbands words sang in my mind like angelic voices singing a hymn. He was with me. We were joined as one. Our toy box was now a sacred thing. ***** We were done with rehearsal. Scheherazade delayed her story of me and Brad, and Brad slipped quietly into oblivion. Months passed through winter and into spring. Our next step was a given, given over to chance which can't be rushed, awaiting the exact right man to appear. And my husband voicing aloud, without reserve or equivocation, yes my loving wife, I accept the man you have chosen and you may fuck him with my blessing for your pleasure and to share with me. It was late May when I came home from work and said to my husband, "I met an interesting man today." To be continued... A Loving Wife's Story Ch. 10 I met an interesting man. His table had a vacant chair in the crowded student union, and I took it. We met, and the chemistry of attraction had a fizz. He was unusually good looking, manly handsome in all those subliminal ways only a woman sees, even though what she sees is not clearly defined. There were too many parts flitting about; parts that touched recognition buried somewhere in me, a recognition that had tentacles reaching all the way back to childhood possibly, and possibly brushing over males without count that had left marks on my brain for unknown reasons. And then there were those recent reasons of man imprint that made my mind almost shout: "Can it be? Is this Dennis Cantrell the ideal man?" Was it only a year or so ago my husband and I had discovered a treasure of erotic excitement in my telling him in full detail my sexual experiences with men when I was single? He came to fully accept his deep releasing thrill in my words and his vivid mental images of other men fucking me. I found, and completely accepted, my own sexual thrill in sharing my past with him, loving him all the more for his bonding with me, his fusion with me, when I described other men fucking me, even desiring me. Our treasure chest expanded to the possibility of contemporary men, not memory men of years past, fucking me, his wife. We had even rehearsed the idea, an exercise of both delicious fun and serious investigation, that left us with tacit agreement that this next step had a sound logic and potential to give us erotic thrills and excitement greater than any we had shared yet. That tacit agreement slept quietly for a few months, then I accidentally met Dennis Cantrell, and came home to tell my husband "I met an interesting man today." My husband had conditioned response interest in my new interest. Our sleeping tacit agreement came awake and saw sunlight streaming through the windows. I went to the student union the same time as yesterday. Dennis was no where in sight. Nor was he the next day. Damn! The third day he was. "There you are! I've been looking all over for you." I sat at his table, rather breathless, a woman on a mission. "Have you!" He said, surprised, flattered, beaming. "Yes I have. I greatly enjoyed your company the other day, and wanted more of it. What is your schedule? Mine is somewhat tight, and next time I take a break here I don't want to look everywhere to find you." Dennis was flabbergasted. Obviously, he wasn't used to a woman coming on to him so directly. But he quickly adapted, his ego and self-esteem inflated and giving him buoyancy. "Then we must set a fixed time to meet each day." "If you enjoy my company as much as I enjoy yours, that is." "A pretty, vivacious, charming woman like you? Of course I enjoy your company. More than I dare say." "Done deal then. I will be your away from home diversion, and you will be my away from student and faculty diversion. Mutual benefit. And who knows? Soon we might dare to say many things to each other." My unflinching gaze into his eyes, my smile of invitation, confirmed my readiness for daring adventure. "So! How are your classes going?" Dennis seemed relieved by my abrupt change of direction. My bold and unmistakable flirtation, all on the strength of accidental meeting over coffee three days earlier, had stunned him. Truth be told, I was a little wobbly myself. The more I listened to him speak, and sponged up all his body language of most appealing masculinity, the more I thought I had indeed found the ideal man to make love with. I had recently concluded there was no such thing as that ideal man. Now I was being proved wrong. But I knew (even then I thought of my husband) I knew it would very difficult to describe to Jamie all those signals from Dennis that were turning me on. His hair cut. The same as a hundred million other men had theirs cut, but looked so uniquely perfect on HIM! The shape of his skull; all the planes and protrusions and valleys in perfect sculptural proportion. His brows the exact width and length. His eyes were a greenish hazel that glistened and sparkled with animation, but they also embedded gentleness and kindness. His body was a fantasy ideal. I had already decided it would be best if my selected lover had physical construction different from my husband. Just for novelty alone. Dennis was a bit taller than Jamie. He was thicker. Not a weight lifter type, and certainly not pudgy. It was like his broad shoulders and back and chest was layered in slabs of muscle. He had what they call a barrel chest, rounded from his pecs all the way down to his crotch, but he had no pot. If we ended up in bed, he would fuck me with great strength and energy. His hairy forearms free of the polo shirt were packed with long ropy muscle that jumped and twanged at the slightest movement of his hands, which were big with nicely articulated fingers. If we didn't make it to the bed those big hands could clutch my ass and hold my full weight of my legs around him while he fucked me standing. Now THAT I could tell to my husband - after it happened. I was multi-tasking. While registering all the signals of his physical appearance and body language, I was also absorbing personal information from what he said, and adding to that information with questions. We chatted for an hour. For a man, he was unusually free in talking about himself, his children, with occasional references to his wife Cindy. I kept my references to Jamie at a minimum, but in the end we established we were both happily married, were emotionally stable, happy with our lives and careers, and found in each other a light hearted and stimulating diversion worthy of maintaining. We exchanged cell numbers in case we got tied up in personal business - more specifically, to arrange these continued coffee dates. After work I was bubbling with possibility and couldn't wait for Jamie to get home. "I ran into that Dennis Cantrell again today." "I thought maybe you would, sooner or later." "He's worth the chase. I must say that. We had a nice chat over coffee in the student union." "So. You are now chasing him?" "A figure of speech. He's very handsome, in that all man way. Very warm and generous personality too." "So what did you chat about?" "The university. His courses. His career. A little about his wife and children back home all week. I asked several questions, in a sly way, to learn his particulars. I think he is our kind of people. The kind, you know, our rehearsal a few months ago demanded." "Are you reviving that rehearsal?" "You greatly enjoyed that, didn't you." I stated a fact. "It expanded my consciousness, I have to say that." "Expanded yours and mine. Enough that we don't need any more rehearsal, I think. I'm ready for the curtain rise and spot lights on. Are you?" My husband gave me a long pensive look. "I don't know," he finally breathed out. "Maybe. Sort of. Half way I suppose." I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him tightly. I didn't kiss him. I was reassuring him I reassured him with my body tight to his, my hands feeling all of him within reach, his neck and shoulders and back and arms and a hearty grip of his ass cheeks. His loving wife who loved him and only him. I stepped back. "We both are jumping the gun, perhaps. This takes much more than two chats over coffee. We have only begun some mild flirtation. His attraction for me might far exceed my attraction for him." "Fat chance." Jamie said with authority. "You never know. I will keep coffee dates with him when I can, and just see how it will play out. There is plenty of time for you to get in further, pass that half way point, and say yes I'm ready, let's do this.... Or say no, I can't do this." I added. "Say yes. Or say no. Sounds fair enough." Dennis and I began texting. "Meet at three?... Great! See you then." "Sorry, a student crisis, darn it, see you tomorrow?" Thus, I began a courtship with, and seduction of, Dennis Cantrell. I bought new clothes. Professional pant suits that held my ass in a snug round fit, summer dresses. The air was warm and sunny, trees almost in full leaf. A perfect setting for romance. I did some very careful shopping to find new clothes that were modestly revealing and sexy without going too far beyond the strictures of professional decorum. I found some bras of filmy light knit that made me look braless, but still gave support and uplift. My husband noticed at once, and gave me fulsome praise and approval. Dennis noticed too, with straying eyes that gave his whole face a glow of approval. I felt beautiful and sexy and desirable. There wasn't much comprehensive report to make for Jamie in my first ten days of dates with Dennis. I was a little bit bold, but cautious and deliberate in feeling him out. He didn't seem to have any curiosity about my husband. My main interest in his marriage was to gage his personality, his general sense of responsibility. I didn't have to probe much to gain that. If he was good to his wife, he would be good to me. Otherwise, his wife, along with my husband, remained an unknown, outside the picture Dennis and I were painting. I concentrated on driving home the thesis that I was his diversion during his week away from his wife and children, and he was my diversion from career duties, a diversion that pleased me more each time I saw him and chatted with him. In a few weeks his courses would be done and he would be gone. We were ships passing in the night. My husband's thesis to drive home was concern that colleagues, even students, might see the frequency of my meeting with Dennis and raise brows and wag tongues. I assured him that was unlikely, and if it did occur he was just another student. Every professor on campus could be seen at some time in private conference with a student in a public place. I even had time blocked out for conferences with students in my office with the door closed. And that gave me an idea, which I didn't reveal to Jamie then. I typed a text: "Meet me on the plaza, next to that huge metal sculpture that looks like rusted spaghetti. 3 p.m." Dennis was on time, standing at the base of the sculpture, staring up at the twisted iron work, trying like all others to see why it was said to be a work of art. He was wearing khaki pants and his favorite, apparently, polo shirt style. He looked every bit the part of an ideal lover. A strong solid man, muscular and capable. His ass a neat round, neither small nor large, and doubtless a driving force that would make his hard cock a piston ramming my cunt. With that thought in mind , I got out my cell phone and took several shots of him while he was oblivious of my near presence. "What a beautiful day!" I exclaimed, reaching him with a skip and hop. "Spring sprung and summer is just around the corner. May I say how lovely you look?" My chest and face flushed with pleasure at his compliment. I felt lovely in my new summer dress. I felt womanly under the light fabric gracing my curves and hills and valleys. That womanly state of sexuality oozing through the weave of femininity. "You are quite the masculine hunk of eye candy yourself." I said with a smile of infatuation and a look into his eyes that declared my weakness for his allure, with a lift of my hand to barely touch the long silky soft hairs on his brawny forearm. "I have to run an errand and thought you might like to join me." I could see his mind scanning a list of housewife errands - Oil change? Pay a utility bill, buy a new pair of shoes? He quickly said, "My pleasure. I'm at your service." "A jaunt to the Farmer's Market." I said. "I'll drive." I took a long way around to get there, showing Dennis interesting parts of the city he hadn't seen. Something about a car imposes a degree of intimacy on front seat passengers. It might even be intimacy of hate, where each stares straight ahead, fuming, refusing to speak. More often it is intimacy of comfortable accord and inevitable glances at bodies in silhouette. The line of neck and jaw, the seat belt capturing my left breast in a noose, my legs I'm so vain about, without panty hose, showing creamy white from a bit above my knees to my foot on the gas pedal. The enclosed car imposed a special intimacy because the man belted in the passenger seat, a man less and less a stranger, was a man I had chosen to fuck me. We rounded that curve of toy box invention and The Red Rooster Inn loomed into view. I had to bite my tongue to keep from blurting out: I got fucked in that motel one time. "That motel used to be a land mark, years ago. They say it has gone to seed now." "It does suddenly jump from the hill side." Dennis said. "Urban lore holds that place was a favorite of clandestine lovers." "Clandestine lovers. That has a nice ring to it. Much better than hot sheet motel, as they are called where I come from." "A much nicer ring. Clandestine lovers implies sudden passion, desire, daring, opportunity, surrender, wonderful fulfillment. For a woman it does. What does it imply for you?" "Everything you just said. When the passion is high enough, it really doesn't matter where the lovers go. A seedy motel, the woods, a cheap apartment." "One thing does matter very much. Security. Secrecy. Not getting caught. Keeping the clandestine, clandestine." "I couldn't agree more." I gave Dennis a sealed, signed and delivered smile. He gave me a smile of recognizing a stunning proposition. His breathing got a little tight. I abruptly changed the subject. "It's called Farmer's Market because from late June to October local growers flood the place with produce. The rest of the year less vendors sell vegetables from all over the world or from their greenhouses. It's the only place in the city that has Japanese egg plant any day of the year." "This might sound strange, but I've never eaten any kind of egg plant." The market was bustling but less than it would in a couple of months. I had thought about that, and was comfortable with the idea of very high odds against anyone knowing me showing up at that time. I took us straight to the stall selling long skinny Japanese egg plant. I bought two. "How do you cook those things?" "Lot's of ways. Fry, roast, puree." I stopped talking and took on the look of a woman who had a sudden thought that she wasn't sure of. "Maybe I could invite you to dinner and you could have your first taste of egg plant." "That would be a treat." "It might be awkward, though." "For your husband?" "I was thinking of me. It would take much restraint of me to keep my hands off of you." To prove my point, I reached for his hand and clasped his fingers in mine. Our first touch of skin to skin. The touch was electric. His large hand squeezed my tiny one with understanding and complicity. "This way." I said. I led him about the market, feeling the heat of our clasped hands flush up my arm and over my chest and down to my groin. Holding hands with a powerfully handsome and sexy man, feeling like a teen back in high school exulting in my discovery of female sexuality, power of attraction, my instinctive wiles to make contact with a boy. I stopped to examine merchandise I had no interest in at all, solicited his opinion, listened carefully to what he had to say by watching his lips form words, thinking how nicely shaped his lips were, how they would feel on mine. After lifting something to examine it and putting it back, my hand would casually touch his shoulder, arm, back, to punctuate a comment, then reach to join his hand and lead him to another stall. My hip bumped his in our meander, my tit pressed his arm. Dennis was fully into the game. He laughed with me at just about everything we said, not caring what was said. Several times he looked like he wanted to kiss me. I most definitely wanted to kiss him, right there in the concourse, a more than several times feeling. As I drove him back to the university and his car, I said, "That was fun! Thank you for coming with me." "Great fun! Thank you for asking me. You said you would be my away from home diversion. A most charming and delightful diversion you are. You most certainly are." He said with a delighted smile that was both carefree teenage boy and confident, experienced man. "Our shopping proved a point." "What point is that?" "I couldn't keep my hands off of you." "Then your inviting me to dinner to eat that egg plant is not the best idea." "Apparently not. We will have to come up with a better one." "I am up to that. Clandestine..." He mused. "What an exciting word." I said. When my husband came home that night he was surprised to see Japanese egg plant on the counter. I told him I went to the Farmer's Market. "I took Dennis with me." "More getting acquainted?" "Oh yes. More and more. More and more I am convinced he is the ideal man. Ideal in all the senses we have discussed and rehearsed. I cannot perceive a single threat or negative in him. He is just a beautiful manly man, and I have to tell you the chemistry of sexual attraction and desire is rapidly building up in both of us. This little courtship is having very positive results." "You certainly have a happy glow." "Oh Jamie! I feel like I'm fifteen again. Back in high school. Exploring, learning. Taking this next step with a new man for sharing it all with you." I was so excited I couldn't keep my hands off my husband. I hugged him and ran my hands up and down his body. His body so familiar to me, his body I loved that made sweet love to me in our marriage bed. "Thank you for giving us this... next step. Thank you thank you my precious love." I kissed him with all my love, and with residuals of sexual excitement stirred up at the Farmer's Market. "I have some pictures of him I want you to see." I got out my cell phone and brought up the shots I took of Dennis. "I took these pictures while he was waiting to meet me at the plaza today. He had no idea he was posing for me. What do you think?" Jamie watched my finger tip move on the phone to present Dennis is various standing postures, with his face in three quarter profile only once. Jamie looked at the images with intense interest, but I could not guess what he was thinking. "He looks like a healthy, clean cut sort, I suppose." Jamie said. "Would you like to meet him?" "I see no reason to. I now know what he looks like. What about him excites you so much?" "Everything! His smile, his voice, his manner, his physique. We discussed this some time ago, but it is not possible to exactly describe why a woman finds a man attractive. Sexually attractive. But this Dennis is the whole package, trust me." "Like Warren on the country club patio?" "Not yet. Not until Dennis and I have our first kiss. Even then it will be nothing like kissing Warren. This time my kissing another man will be with your foreknowledge and granted permission. Taking our toy box to the next level. With a thought out plan well considered and even rehearsed. This time will have no accidental inputs. This time won't be a past memory I recreate for you. This time Dennis will be my selected lover to take me for his passionate need and pleasure, and I will give myself to him with no holding back. I will want to fuck him as much as he want's to fuck me. That is the truth of what we have chosen to do." My husband stared at me without really seeing me, I thought. His eyes all inward to a vision of my wanting to fuck Dennis Cantrell as much as he wanted to fuck me. The culmination of our carefully considered plan. "And the truth," I said, "of what we are doing also contains that fantastic reward for you. Your total sharing of all from beginning to end and the erotic, sexual, emotional transport you will have and be ravished by." A Loving Wife's Story Ch. 10 My husband's eyes cleared and got me in focus. His eyes had a shine of history, from his very first shattering erotic response to my first story of a man fucking me when I was still a girl, his shame at his uncontrollable response, his overcoming that shame to convert it to a natural and valuable part of his psyche, and all the transforming excitement we both had shared since then. More of my storys, bringing in real men to spice the fantasy content, a real other man kissing me and putting his mouth to my bare nipple. And now this, the next step, what we were now doing. "Dennis hasn't kissed me yet. But.... Now is the time for you to say no. If you have any prohibitive doubts, you want to stop our next step for any reason, now is the time to say no, I can't go through with this. Say that and all is over." "If I say no, will you feel disappointed and resentful?" "Some disappointment, of course. But not anything lasting. Not at this point. That is why I insist that you must make your final decision now. Dennis and I have created a mutual attraction, romantic and definitely a sexual chemisty momentun that will grow stronger and stronger if we continue to meet. If you say no, now, I will stop meeting with him and forget all about him. No harm done. If you stall, and the momemtum of Dennis brings us to threshold of sex and then you say no, well, I would be very put out. So you see? Yes or no. You must say so now." "I can see how happy you are at this stage. That beautiful glow you have. I can't help but think....What if you fall in love with him?" "There is not the remotest possibility of that. He will leave his program in a couple of weeks and return to his town and wife and children. I will never see him again. Have contact in any way. But the controlling reason is I love you and only you and will never love another man but you. We have discussed this before. You simply have to trust me, believe me that I can never fall in love with another man. No matter how attractive he is or how good he is in bed." "Or no matter how much you love the excitement and pleasure he gives you." "Exactly. For all the excitement and pleasure he gives to me is the treasure I will bring back to give to you, to give you your own unique excitement and erotic pleasure. That will be the reason and purpose of my having sex with Dennis. To share it all with you. My gift to you. If you say yes, you will be taking our next step with me, step by step. I've told you all the essential details of Dennis thus far, haven't I?" "I trust you have." "That's it. Trust me, believe in me. My private benefits are your private benefits." I circled my arms around my husband and kissed him with depthless love. His loving wife. I felt for his cock and felt it harden in my fingers. "Now is the time," I said. Jamie closed his eyes, his breathing stopped, and when he spoke his voice was ragged. "Yes. I am with you for this. Step for step." My husband was with me, joined to me in my deliberate cause of marital infidelity for our mutual benefit of a sexual excitement greater than either of us could fully imagine. At that moment the magnitude of our agreement made me so weak I almost collapsed in my husband's arms. I felt dizzy and faint. But I was also flooded with an exhileraton and anticipation that boiled in my cunt. "Fuck me Jamie. Fuck me now. Right now!" I stepped out of my high heels, raised my dress and ripped my panties off. I bent to lean over the back of the sofa. I heard his belt unbuckle and the sound of his pants falling. I felt his body still half dressed position behind me, his hard cock at my slick cunt lips push in to the depths of me. And we fucked like mindless animals in heat. Man and woman, husband and wife, lost to a compelling need without category, as deep as continental tectonic plates rubbing together, orgasms as powerful as a tsunami flooding an island. The next day I texted Dennis that I had a faculty meeting and couldn't meet. He replied he would miss me very much, but would see me another day. His reply created a rippling dance of pleasure all inside me and moistened my cunt. Private benefits of what Jamie and I had chosen to do. He said long ago, when we first made tentative exploration of the vague idea of me selecting another man to fuck in our wonderful toy box of shared thrill, that there would be private benefits for me. Of course there would be. Those benefits were already showering on me in abundance. It was not possible I would fall in love with Dennis, but it was also not possible for me to take our next step without me having to the greatest possible extent all those delicious thrills of courtship and genuine desire to make love with him. That had to be, or else our next step would not have the meaning and purpose my husband and I needed and wanted. There wasn't a conflict or quandary, not really. Jamie was the man I loved and would only love for as long as I lived. But this next step, my fucking a man not my husband, with my husband's full agreement, for our mutual benefit of sharing, gave me freedom to love the process of Dennis and I becoming lovers. And love it I did. All the tingles of our courtship dance, the inner quivers of sexual chemistry Dennis and I gave to each other, the sexual desire set free to conquer us and lock us in intercourse. The very same benefits I had when I was a single woman and needed a man for sex. Except now I was married, and the need was for my husband as much as for me. Jamie had private need and benefits too. That too was a state I could never know in its entirety. His enflamed erotic excitement on hearing me describe fucking another man. Why his cock got so hard he had trouble breathing. Somewhere in his mnd and soul were private benefits he could not possibly describe to me in words. Just as I could not exactly describe the pleasure on reading Dennis' text that he would miss me. We both had private benefits, and they were in balance. It was a perfect balance of sharing all we were capable of sharing, each in loving service to the other. It was our wonderful, marvelous, fantastic toy box. I suddenly understood further why Jamie had no interest in a threesome with another man. Why he did not want to watch another man fuck me for real. Why he saw no reason to meet Dennis. It was my private benefit of desiring another man, surrendering to him, being filled with all the pleasures that man could give me, that created the ravishing erotic thrill for my husband. My experience of that apart from him, and sharing all with him. I would not fall in love with Dennis, and I knew Jamie was confident of that, but I was free to feel any enchantment, infatuation, desire, lust, and sexual fulfillment he could inspire. I was free to love him being my lover. My private benefits were in fact the fuel of Jamie's special capacity for erotic flame. All of this was what occurred that night of my Red Rooster Inn story, forming the elements of our mutual benefits in erotic sharing, and channeling those elements in a fixed course to define our indulgence up to my husband conspiring with me to fuck Dennis Cantrell. "Did you see Dennis today?" "Not today. Had a faculty meeting. I thought of him all day though. And thought of you too. You saying yes and joining me in our next step. My God, Jamie, I can't describe the thrill of what we are doing. I must fuck Dennis soon or I won't be able to teach any classes. I can't keep my mind on anything but him. Are you able to concentrate at work?" "Oh I have my share of distraction, be assured, but I manage. I have to." "Is this how you imagined it would be?" Jamie didn't know how to answer my question. "That you would be sharing these steps by steps of our toy box next step in my seducing another man to fuck me? Do you feel the same excitement I do?" "I am already experiencing much of the same erotic charge your first stories gave me. I don't know if that is same excitement you feel or not." "It's the same. Or so tightly intwined it is practically the same. That is why we have chosen to do this. You saying yes, I want us to do this, and now I have found the ideal man. And now it is going to happen. And I am half crazy with desire and anticipation of it happening. You gave this to me. This private thrill of sexual anticipation. I share this private thrill with you. We both are inflamed. And your private thrill is the equal of mine. Tell me it is." "It is. But you must continue sharing each and every step. My erotic inflamation will sputter if you don't." "I will, my love. I will share all with you. That is my promise. That is why I want to fuck Dennis." "Half of why." Jamie said with a kind smile. "Well, yes. The other half is for me alone. But the two halves make a whole, and that whole is returning to share with you. That whole belongs to us. Dennis will go back home and I'll never see him again. I will have you forever." To be continued... A Loving Wife's Story Ch. 11 My husband was with me, every step of the way. He said yes, let's do this. He wanted me to fuck Dennis. He granted me all my private thrills and desires and pleasures in making that happen. Because his private erotic thrill was the equal of all I was feeling in my freedom to have another man. We were as one, joined in this fantastic adventure. This ultimate step of daring to be who and what we were. I sent Dennis a text: "Running behind today. Can you come to my office? You are a student. I am a professor. We need a conference." He asked for directions, and the time. My office door was opened and Dennis filled the frame. His smile was a mix of expectancy, naughtiness, and question. "Doctor Andrews?" He said with mock trepidation at being summoned. I sprang up from my desk chair and said, "Get in here you." I closed my office door, punched the lock button, and put my arms around his big man body and held him tightly. My breasts mashed to his chest, my groin plastered to his. We stared into each other's eyes. My chin lifted, his lowered, and our lips met and kissed. The power of his kiss was more than I had fantasized. Much more. Far for powerful than Warren kissing me on the country club patio. This was not accidental. This was part of a deliberate process, and the power of effect was more ravishing than I could have imagined. I was seared by a sexual heat hotter than any I had ever known before. Because my volcanic desire for that man was an eruption of my husband giving me unrestrained freedom to experience this. I felt my body melt, dissolve, become a substance of absorption of Dennis the man. His lips taking mine with insistent demand. His tongue spearing into my opened mouth. The taste of his spittle mixing with mine. His strong arms holding me to him. His groin pressing hard to me. It was a sexual kiss, and I surrendered to it, to him. "Oh my God Dennis." I moaned. "I want you, I want you." "And I want you just as much." Dennis breathed the words on my lips. He held me tighter and kissed my ears and neck, with soft lips, playful tongue and hot breath. I quivered and trembled and melted further into him. He kissed my mouth again. Taking me, possessing me. His cock was a large mass of desire pressing against me. My cunt poured juices. I was out of my mind in a place of sexual surrender to that marvelous man. Nothing else mattered. But of course it did. I broke our kiss and stepped away from him, hot, flushed and panting, my nipples erect, my panties soaked. "I believe you do." I said. "Want me as much as I want you." "I can be even more convincing." "Not here. Too dangerous. Not clandestine enough." "My apartment would do." "Do you have nosy neighbors? Are there other students living there?" "I really don't know who or what my neighbors are. My apartment has a private entrance. Off the front porch of an old house converted to apartments. I could sneak a special guest in unnoticed. Not that I ever have, I hasten to add." "I'm happy to hear that." I sat behind my desk. He sat in the conference chair. I fanned my face with my hand and exhaled a long breath. "I never have either." I said. He gave me a questioning look. "Some things need to be said. I have never done this before. I love my husband dearly and I will never leave him. Don't imagine that I am an unhappy wife, bored at home and all that. No. Our trip to the Farmer's market, my asking you to come here today, our kiss I have fantasized for days, is all about you. Do you understand?" "Completely. My marriage is as important to me as yours is to you. We must never harm either one. We will not allow that. We are both mature adults and know what we are doing. You stated it all. Our diversion." "What's your address, by the way." He told me, and I wrote it down. I stood, he stood, and I walked to him. "Kiss me again." I said. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me with greater passion than the first time. Kissing a beautiful, sexy, most desirable woman; a wife who never had a man other than her husband since she married. "Oh I want you. I do, do want you so." I moaned. His kiss devoured my mouth. His hands roamed my body, sliding up and down, fondling my breasts, pinching my nipples, measuring and clutching the curves of my ass to pull me closer. His great bulge under his pants mashing against me. I dissolved again and almost fainted. I broke away with a gasp and little trill of regret escaping my voice under unbearable pressure. "Too dangerous here. Out! Out!" "I can't go out like this" He whined. He cupped his cock and balls in his hand to show his problem. I found an used manila folder and handed it to him. "Here. Use this as camouflage. A last assignment you must complete in order to graduate. Try to look glum walking down the hall." "Right. Sure. Don't jump up and click my heels together." His smile at me was blissful. "When?" He said. "As soon as I can arrange the time." "Soon I hope." "You want me as much as I want you." "Yes. I do." "As soon as I can arrange it, you will fuck me." "Oh God yes." "Out!" I said. I closed my office door and plopped in my chair and quivered and trembled and clinched my fists and tensed my arms in that popular triumphal gesture of "YES! I DID IT!" What a ravaging kiss that was! So all sexual consuming it was almost like he had fucked me on my desk! The ideal man. A new and different structure of masculinity taking me, in his arms, with his mouth, his hands. An irresistible sexy man not my husband. A different taste and smell, a different heat and energy and male desire dominating me. I quivered and trembled and parted my legs and clutched my cunt under my dress. Our next step man was going to fuck me. Soon. How could I tell my husband this? All I was feeling right now. Could I find the words? The right words? "You look different." Jamie said. "How so?" "I'm not sure how to describe it. Something has happened." I smiled that pleased, happy, smug, fat smile of a woman who has all she could ever ask for. The world was her oyster. "Yes. Something wonderful happened today. I will tell you later. A bed time story." My husband was in a twist. He wanted to know then and there what wonderful thing had happened to me. But I made him wait. I wanted him to endure a building and almost unbearable suspense to hear the wonderful thing that had happened. I knew that suspense would feed his need and his capacity to experience his ravishing thrill of me making love with, fucking, another man. That too was a part of our sharing. And I also wanted him to have a pre-taste of our separation when I kissed him goodbye and went out alone to fuck Dennis. That too would be central to our sharing. We went about our evening routine, me deliberately chatting of inconsequential things far removed from our delicious game. Like our toy box didn't exist, had never been imagined. And the shear, almost comical incongruity of that ignoring was like pouring accelerant on the flame of Jamie's suspense. For beneath my meaningless chatter was the still tingling effect of Dennis' kiss. The kiss of a new and different man. A big, powerful man whose lips and arms and hands had possessed me and transformed me into a helpless blob of desire for him. The effect of all those delicious feelings still made my body silently sing and my face glow. My private benefit. Jamie saw it all, not knowing exactly what he was seeing, his suspense and imagination and erotic inflammation held in a vacuum of singular intensity. His private benefit. I brushed my hair and teeth, but I didn't shower. I was lying naked on the bed when Jamie came in. He quickly brushed his teeth and undressed while gazing at me lying naked and waiting. "Am I beautiful?" "The most beautiful woman on earth. The most desirable woman on earth." I felt my body sink into that loose languid state, all my bones and flesh in harmonious flow, like a cat twisting and turning to seek optimum repose on a chair seat. Willowy, wanton Sondra. Sexual Sondra. Loving wife. My husband stretched out naked beside me. He brought his hand to my breast and gave his magical fingers to my nipple. The sweet pleasure rippled over my chest. He moved his hand down slowly, caressing my belly, my willowy wanton body, and slipped his finger into my cunt. "You're very wet." "It started this afternoon, and hasn't stopped." "Tell me." "Put it in me first. I want to feel you inside me." He positioned himself. I opened wide for him. He pushed his cock into me. "Don't move. For now." He topped me, bearing his weight on his elbows. His divine cock throbbed deep inside me. I squeezed it in vaginal grip. We stared into each other's eyes. "We kissed today. Dennis and I." Jamie's cock throbbed deep inside me. "Where?" He said. "On the lips." "You know what I meant." "At a student teacher conference, in my office. Don't say it! There was no risk. He wasn't there long and the door was closed and locked. We did what I wanted to do. What had to be done. There is no turning back now. He is going to fuck me." My husband made movements out of his mental control. Short hunches, his cock bigger and harder, the head pulsing like a heart beat. "Tell me." He moaned. That moan of erotic seizure I knew so well, and loved. "The kiss of a new man, a different man, and so powerful because of that. Our next step. You with me all the way. Your gift to me. His kiss turned me into total surrender to him. I want him, Jamie. I now want him very, very much. And he wants me just as much. It's going to happen." "When?" Jamie croaked. "I don't know. Soon... We did clear the air, in a much needed pause. We both made clear we were happily married, and there was no chance of continued involvement. We were just ships passing in the night." "Does he know I know?" "Oh no. No, no, no. That wouldn't work for us. That would only invite messy complications that wouldn't enhance our thrills in any way. Dennis and I are just a man and a women who suddenly found they were very hot for each other and had to have each other. A very secret, clandestine affair." Jamie moved in me. He couldn't stop himself. "Oh my love. My precious love. Dennis is going to fuck me soon. I will spread my legs wide and his cock will enter me and be where yours is now. He will fuck me as you are doing now. That is what we both want to happen." "Yesssssss." My husband began long powerful thrusting. Faster and faster. And quicker than any time I could remember, he emptied himself into me, thick streams of his cum flooding the depths of my cunt. He was having his intense, kinky, private, ravishing thrill that only happened when I gave him that gift of another man fucking me. I squeezed his sweaty body tight to mine, loving him with all my being. The next day was Friday, and Dennis would be leaving town at noon to return to his wife and children. I sent him a text to meet mid-morning at our usual spot in the student union. I delayed my arrival some. I wanted to see his expression when I approached his table. His face took on a sudden glow, beaming delight and happy triumph and helpless lust when he saw me walk his way. I knew all in my face and posture and walk was a mirror reflection of what he was feeling. And thinking. "Good morning." "Good morning." "You were in my head all night last night." "You can imagine what was in my head. I had to give myself relief." "I hope you didn't squander all your resources. You are going home, you know." "My resources will replenish. There's enough to go around." "I want my share. When you come back here." "You will have your share and much more. Bet on it." "Not in my office though. That is too risky." "My place is good. It is clandestine ideal." "You are ideal. The perfect man in every way. The first other man to remove all conventional barriers since I married. Can you respect me, knowing that?" "My respect for you is just as strong as my desire for you. Your honesty. And your irresistible beauty and sexuality. I too will forget my wedding vows to be with you. Will that lower your respect of me?" "No. It will not. We both want to make love. And we will. Leave our spouses for a while and enjoy it to the fullest. Ships passing in the night." "But docking for a while, before going on separate ways." "Yes. Docking. Connecting." I succumbed to spastic quivers. "Soon, Dennis. We will dock and connect." I had only one class to teach that day, so I packed it in and left early. I got a city map from the glove compartment and found a route to Dennis' address. It was just as he said. A large, rambling old Victorian house, converted to furnished apartments. A half surround porch with white painted spoke fans flowering right and left of the post tops. I parked at the curb and searched for numbers on the little black mail boxes. Just as he said, his apartment door was at the corner of the porch. It even had its own set of steps off the porch. Perfect. I could enter and leave unnoticed. That was reassuring information to bring back to my husband. To be continued... A Loving Wife's Story Ch. 12 My husband and I spent an edgy weekend, uncertain of the appropriate decorum to exhibit in anticipation of Dennis coming back into town to complete our next step. We tried to be casual and nonchalant, but that was strenuous exercises of limited duration. We tried to be business like. "What night would suit you best?" "Me? Whatever night will be all about you. I will be home waiting. It's your choice." "I think Wednesday. That will give Dennis two days to re-gather himself and return to his wife. A week later he will be gone for good." "That is thoughtful looking ahead." I snapped a quick look at Jamie, searching for negative resonance. There was none. He simply meant exactly what he said. We developed a pattern. Each of us wandering off, doing different things in different parts of the house, each of us in private worlds of thought and emotion. Then we would gravitate to each other and continue conversation of broken segments, taking up where we left off. "I am stuffed with looking ahead thoughts." Jamie smiled at me, a warm and friendly empathetic smile. "I bet you are." "You too? Riddled and stuffed with thoughts?" "More than I know what to do with." "A little scary?" "More than a little." "It will all be worth it though. You will see." I wandered off alone to think fresh thoughts. How difficult it must be for Jamie to play his role on his side of our serendipity coin. Now that we had agreed to my fucking a current man instead of a memory man to give him his singular, dark side thrill. He was isolated, waiting, but still with me, walking behind me as I made my way to Dennis, step by step. Although our discussion of the coming event was in segments over several days, there was little he knew how to say, to initiate. A new man I found highly desirable was going to fuck me. Our anticipation was of equal strength, but of much different composition. I found him in knee pads on his knees planting variegated hosta in our shade garden. He wore shorts and was shirtless. His body was beautiful. The skin an unblemished white, the muscles in his arms and back lean and ropy and distinctly outlined. So unlike Dennis, but so breathtakingly beautiful. My husband and lover, the man I loved. "Are you as excited as I am? I hope you are. I want you to be. This now part of our sharing." "I feel an excitement so strange and strong I don't know how to describe it." "Just what you felt when I told you my stories of Ken and Kirk." "Much more intense." "But this time with no guilt or self-doubt." "No guilt or self-doubt in agreeing to do this, but a lot of scary unknowns are in the shadows." "Never forget I am doing this for you as much as for me. For our mutual rewarding thrill." "That I cannot forget. That is the reason I agreed to this ultimate next step." "I love you Jamie. I can not, will not, ever love another man the way I love you." And so the hours and days of our mutual, ever increasing anticipation passed. "He has a big one, I think. It felt big pressing against me when we kissed." "Are you hoping for that?" "I'm not hoping. But I won't file a complaint if it is. I will certainly tell you if it is." "Every detail. Leave nothing out. You will be cheating on me if you do." "I will never cheat on you, Not in any form or fashion." I laughed. "You know what? My fucking Dennis can't even be called infidelity. We don't fit any mold or label, you and I. We are a sovereign entity all to ourselves." Sunday night I asked my husband's permission to forgo making love and have a good night's sleep. "You want to build up a full store for him." "Of course not! I have plenty for both of you. A woman's sexual store is inexhaustible. However...now that you mention it..." "Good night my loving wife." "Good night my loving husband." Monday morning I texted Dennis. MEET AT THREE. COFFEE. His reply came an hour later. BE THERE. My outfit was a loose skirt that flowed over my hips and ass, and a snug button up blouse that held my tits like they were in a man's hands. While walking to the student union, I unfastened two more buttons, opening up tit exposure beyond professional decorum. "Hello again. A good week-end?" "Very nice. Played with Amy and Randall. When I'm there full time they can get on my nerves. When I'm here a week I miss them like crazy." "You are a good papa." He smiled. "And a good husband," I added. He looked at me with gentle candor. "Cindy and I had our reunion, as we always do." "Hearing that makes me happy. I do no harm." "Not to me and Cindy. But you have certainly done something to me. Those mere minutes in your office I can't forget. I want, need, must have more." "What are you doing Wednesday night?" "That night is reserved for you." "My husband will be out of town." Dennis' eyes went to the unbuttoned gap in my blouse, and gazed at the creamy freckled cleavage my up lift bra presented. "Then that is our opportunity. Clandestine safe and secure." "Passing ships docking and connecting. And not getting caught." "It will be torture to wait that long." "For me too. But it will be worth it.... Around sevenish?" "My time is your time. Anytime." "Expect my knock on your door." I don't know how I managed to do my required work the rest of the day. It was going to happen. Another man was going to fuck my married cunt. That was a goal I had deliberately set to achieve after the first time I accidentally met him. I was a bit amazed how easy and seamless Dennis and I slid in step to reach that goal. Of course my husband walking a separate step by step parallel course with us removed all impediments from my reaching that goal. Without my husband joined with me in parallel that goal wouldn't even exist. I remembered a close friend who had an affair with her professor when we were undergraduates. She was dying to tell me all about it, and did. Women love to talk to each other. I listened spell bound, sharing her bursting excitement. I had exactly the same bursting excitement now, except there was no close female friend to confide in. Not for this. There was only my husband. Closer to me than anyone else in the world. When work was done I rushed home to tell him, with all the eagerness that drives girl talk. "Had coffee with Dennis today." "In your office?" "No, no. That's off limits now. In the student union. He had a nice visit home." "So? Did you set a date?" "Wednesday night it is. It's on." Those words were like a draw string pulled to close the top of an opened bag to a tight bunched circle. It's on. It's in the bag. It's going to happen. I could not stop a beaming smile on my face of triumph, of closure. Jamie was frozen, for a moment, with that deer in the headlights look. "I told him you would be out of town that night." "That should ease any worries he might have." "It did. And not only that. It gave him assurance of the required secrecy that must be for this. That our marriage and his not be compromised in any way. We didn't discuss that at length, but we both made known all along that we wanted to fuck, without getting caught, no one else ever knowing. He really is the ideal man for this." "At his place?" "Yes. I drove by there to check it out. An old Victorian converted to a few furnished apartments. He has a private entrance at the corner of the porch. I can sneak in and out unnoticed. Have fantastic sex with him with no one else, but you, ever knowing." "Well, Wednesday night you will find out for sure just ideal he is." "For sure I will. And I don't have the slightest doubt he will be a wonderful lover." I trembled and smiled with that certainty. "And you no doubt know I will be a wonderful lover for him too. I won't hold anything back. I will give myself to him. For you as much as for me." "I know what a wonderful lover you are. I know so very, very well." When we went to bed that night, I again withdrew from making love with my husband. I suppose somewhere in my mind I really was putting the familiarity of Jamie on hold, storing myself up to be fresh for all the new sensations of a different man, a different body, a different cock, a new sexual fulfillment, a new stimulation of all those things at rest awakening to rise to orgasms generated by Dennis. We were lying on our sides, back to back. Before I fell asleep I reached back to put my hand on Jamie's leg and caress it, to reassure him he was with me, all the way, and forever. Tuesday, my only contact with Dennis was a text. TOMORROW NIGHT. ANTICIPATE. Wednesday afternoon. When all public work duties were finished, I left my office earlier than usual. My mind was filled with a single subject - Dennis waiting for my knock on his door. Back home I made myself a sandwich and a salad to eat, and drank a glass of milk. I needed energy for the coming work out, but I didn't want to go there stuffed and I didn't want hunger rumbles in my gut either. I selected clothes to wear and laid them out on the bed. I stripped naked and ran hot water to fill the tub. While the water was running I sat on the commode lid with wide spread legs and trimmed my pubic hair, cropping it down and removing all long fringe back from my cunt lips and clitoral hood. I inspected my nails; they needed no attention. I put bubble bath in the tub and watched the churn and turned off the tap. When the water cooled enough I eased into the mass of bubbles. Preparing myself to be with Dennis, my lover for a night, the man who would fuck me. My first other man since I married Jamie. With Jamie's full knowledge and agreement. In a few hours I would be in the arms of another man. I would give myself to him, welcome his doing to me whatever he wanted, feel his touch on my body, his lips and hands, the touch of his cock to my cunt, the force of it entering into me. Tine stood still to gaze on me and my new lover connected in sexual union and judge it to be perfect. I don't know how long my husband stood in the bathroom door frame before I was aware of him. I gave him that smile that only a loving wife can give. "Hi my darling." "I thought you had fallen asleep in all those bubbles." "I wasn't asleep. I was dreaming though." "I don't have to guess what." Jamie was fractured. His kinky excitement was at a higher point than ever before, but that carried vague, scary uncertainties greater than any before. We had discussed this. His waiting in the wings, home alone when the time came for me to go out to another man. Something neither of us could imagine with any accuracy. Something that just had to happen as a part of the experience. I thought it would serve his excitement if I made no attempt to soothe his tender fears, but instead emphasize the reality. "No. You know. You are with me every step. We are in this together. I am making myself squeaky clean to be with another man for the night. I was dreaming of Dennis making love to me." I spoke those words with voice intonation of one barely out of a trance, my loving wife smile sweet and pure, my eyes a gentle but unwavering penetration into his. Those words seemed to have the effect I hoped for. He seemed to gather himself, organize all his inner conflicts into a resource that promoted the common good - that fantastic story I would have to later enthrall and inflame him, even more than these preliminaries were now doing. He smiled back at me, in step. "I will leave you to your business then." He said, and went to another part of the house. I drained the tub and shampooed my hair. Spent time with the dryer, and brushed my hair fifty strokes. It fell in soft waves and strands to my shoulders. I flossed and brushed my teeth and swished Listerine. I sat naked before the mirror and applied make up - very little make up, just enough for subtle accent around my eyes, and pink lip gloss. Jamie stuck his head in the door way, He leered at me, and said: "Sexy ass." I put my hands under my breasts and lifted them in offering to him via reflection in the mirror. "Just my ass?" "All of you. From head to toe." I pursed my lips and via the mirror blew him a kiss, garnished with a sudden flare of inner impulse to play the slut, the whore, and adventurous wife. He blew me a kiss back, and left. I went to my husband in the living room. He sat without a drink on the side table, no reading material in his hands. He was staring at the wall, wrapped in thoughts he couldn't speak, and I could not fully imagine. "Jamie. I say again, I will not fall in love with Dennis. I love you and only you and I will never love any man but you. Tell me you believe that, you know that is true, and you trust me." He stared at me a moment. An aura of sincerity and honesty seemed to surround him. "I believe you and trust you. I said yes, I wanted this to happen. I am with you. All the way." He stood and walked to me, in measured, totally confident paces. He put his hands to my bare shoulders and slowly brought his lips to mine. His kiss was tender and loving and delicate. Like a kiss for a baby in a bassinet. My emotion was so strong I felt I might burst into tears. That emotion was curtailed by Jamie speaking. "Are those new clothes?" "Yes. How do I look?" I was wearing a khaki wrap around skirt that went to mid thigh, and a white ruffle tube top with no straps that left my belly button bare and winking. "Sexy." Jamie said. "Very, very sexy. And very beautiful." The pleasure of his compliment flooded me, and the flush on my skin and the glow of my face and eyes and smile said "thank you" with greater meaning than words could carry. I felt very sexy and beautiful, all ready to leave my home and fuck another man. "This wrap around skirt quickly unwraps." "Very convenient." "I'm not wearing panties." "If ever there was an occasion not to, this is it." I reached for the hem of my skirt and slowly raised it to bunch at my middle. Jamie stepped back for a full view gaze at my creamy white thighs and my trimmed bush and my cunt smiling the same as my face lips did, in a vertical version. I wanted him to have this visual while I was gone. What his wife was going to give to another man. That was the reality of what we were doing. That visual now in his mind was a part of the experience of his waiting for me to return. I let my skirt fall. "You're not wearing a bra either." "No. This garment excludes one. And is also easily removed." "It makes your tits look bigger and fuller." He came to me and with both hands found and tweaked my two nipples. They instantly jutted up erect. "You think they will stay this tiny cork shape all the way there?" "If not, they will likely stand up again as soon as I knock on his door." Jamie made a strange sound in his throat, almost like a giggle he wanted to suppress at all costs. "It's time. I expect you will be a bundle of nerves." "Ha! A bundle, a bale, a tightly wound ball." "You can take care of big boy," I said, reaching to fondle his cock, which was not hard. "As much as you want. You have my permission." I hung my purse on my shoulder. "Wait." Jamie said. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a little box of condoms to hand me. "Be prepared." He said. That deep emotion flooded my insides again. My husband was with me, all the way in our daring adventure of mutual choice. That last gesture of his preparing me with condoms gave a resounding echo to his saying yes, I want to do this next and ultimate step. "My sweetest love." I breathed out. You are with me... However, I have my own." I pulled my little box of condoms out of my purse and flashed it. "I bought them the day after you said yes, no turning back." I flashed him a smile of clever foresight. He seemed a little disappointed. "What the hell," I said, "give them to me. If all goes well we might need two boxes." "Unusual stamina is one thing, Superman is quite another." I laughed, a bubbling giggle of joy set free. "Speaking of, I have no idea at all how late I will be. Might be early, might be midnight. I just can't predict. But I shall return. With the most thrilling erotic story you ever heard." We stared at each other a moment, feeling the magnitude of our shared reality settle on us. "Bye Jamie my husband. I love you with every cell in my being." "Sondra my wife. I love you with all that I am. Enjoy yourself. Return to me." To be continued... A Loving Wife's Story Ch. 13 On my way to be with Dennis, I thought of my husband back home as a bundle of quivering nerves, for I was also a bundle of quivering nerves. That state would be something for us to compare and discuss when I returned. A rich part of the whole experience that we would share, maybe on repeated occasions over time lying ahead. I could easily imagine Jamie asking: "What was in your mind as you drove to his apartment?" So many, many things my darling husband. At that moment I knew I had to reserve a part of my mind for Jamie, no matter how completely I gave myself to the excitement and pleasures of sex with Dennis. And no matter how completely Dennis took me to a separate state of being, a state of sexual surrender and delirium that made my husband and all else of my real life disappear for moments, periods, lapses. What was in my mind? That I was going to fuck another man. With your knowledge and full consent. That this is really happening. Right now. We are doing it, our next step. Can you imagine any couple we know doing this? Any other husband with the courage you have? The courage to let me do this so you will have your own reward of erotic transcendence? I don't have the courage to share you with another woman for even ten seconds. You have that courage, to have your own private, shattering thrill. You are not a weak, worthless man. You are more emotionally and mentally grounded than any other man I can imagine. The strength of your love for me, your trust of me, is greater than any other husband that I know could possibly possess. You are a giant of strength and purpose in this and all that you do. I have given many hours of thought to this, even since that first story of the Red Rooster Inn was so erotically enflaming to you. Now I have final understanding. Your courage to face and fully accept that unique part of you, my courage to fully embrace my private benefits another man would provide me, all to give back to you. I was going to be with Dennis Cantrell, and he was going to fuck me. There was plenty of daylight left. My sandals made flap sounds on the steps and porch. My knock of the door was discrete. "I know I'm early. I couldn't wait any longer." "Thank God you are early. I was going crazy waiting." Dennis pulled me into his room, closed the door and flipped the lock latch. It was a room with a single bed, a stove, fridge, sink in a corner, and an opened door to a bathroom. The carpet was worn. Three mismatched chairs to sit in. The sheets on the bed had creases and must have been new out of the package. I put my purse on the bed side table which was crowded with a lamp. "Not the most luxurious accommodations," Dennis said, "but it serves its purpose." "You are the luxury I care about, and my purpose for being here." He was spiffy in his khaki shorts and polo shirt with navy blue and red stripes. Hair neatly parted, cheeks close shaved and shinning, his eyes sparkling with readiness and intent. We came together and kissed. It was like the kiss in my office but without restraints. No fears of interruption, of getting caught. We were alone for the night, to dock and connect. His big man body, powerful arms hugging me to him, me on my toes to bring my lips to his, which tightened my ass cheeks. His hands on my tightened ass to pull me against his cock. His lips devouring mine, our tongues deep in each other's mouths. Our bodies two furnaces generating a heat that welded us together. I melted into the sexual fusion with that big powerful wonderful man. His having me, my fusion with him in the sexual heat, was my reason for being from that moment on. His lips broke from mine and rained little kisses all over my face and ear and neck. I nuzzled his neck and licked it to taste the smell there. The smell was a mix of cologne, soap, and that indefinable substance of maleness. I had forgot that, how all the men I had before had a different smell. There is a general sameness, but each has a subtle singularity that is all his own, and for some that singularity is the essence of sex. You have yours. Dennis has his. No doubt I have my own female variety. His clean, manly smell was released by our fused body heat, and wafted up to my nose. The essence of sex, Dennis' smell, breaking up those scents of cologne and arm pit deodorant he had considerately applied for me. That smell of a man in sexual heat. I breathed him in deeply, and fused more tightly to him in intoxicated surrender. Every cell in my body was attuned to him. Our mouths joined again to kiss. To taste, Our noses to smell. And deep in our throats sounded little hums of passion and submission. The power of sexual fusion with Dennis, a new man, consumed me. It would take another time and place for me think how much like a first honeymoon night was my kiss with Dennis in his shabby apartment. Or how similar to every woman's honeymoon fantasy, I should say. But first honeymoon night so often carries ceremonial baggage that clutters the spontaneity of blissful union. All the stresses of production of a large wedding, participants, caterers, logistics, nervous tension, exhaustion, all conspiring to leech final consummation of its fantasy potency. Moreover, the typical pair that marries have first consummation of sexual bliss long before they marry. It is a man and woman betraying their wedding vows, cheating on their spouses, that ironically comes closer to that explosive wedding night fantasy. Especially when they have that build up of irresistible attraction and desire such as Dennis and I had. We kissed in a frenzy of desire and insulated freedom. I stepped back and lifted up my tube top and slipped it over and off my arms. I tossed it behind me, not caring where it landed. Dennis stared at my breasts tumbled free, the resilience of projection and curve quivering in coming to rest in offering. The look in his eyes made me think my breasts were more fulsome than his wife's. He came out of his trance and ripped off his polo shirt, like playing follow the leader. He is much hairier than you. A thick man with a barrel chest. When we kissed again my breasts flattened to him and his hair tickled my nipples. Skin to skin. A new man with new strength and power and sexual drive. A new fragrance of the essence of sex. I unwrapped my skirt and tossed it somewhere. He shed his shorts. His cock sprang up to full extension. We gazed upon our nakedness. It was a big one, just as I thought. Not so much longer than yours, or fatter. It was the head that amazed me. A big mushroom shaped thing that spread outside the circumference of the shaft. That was the biggest cock head I had ever seen. The length had a slight gentle curve up bend. It stood up at a steep angle. It amazed me, and gave me ticklish jumpy feelings in my belly. It looked very happy to see me. I couldn't take my eyes from it, and my hand reached on its own to feel. Hard as granite. A slight up bend. That huge mushroom head a shiny red-blue-lavender color. Dennis looked down at my hand holding his cock, and seemed very proud. I knew then we were going to have great fun. We fell together on the bed and in a tangle of arms and legs enwrapping ourselves we kissed with release to have our fun, our urgent need for consummation. We rolled and tumbled. Big man Dennis hard and heavy against me, on me, beside me. His hands and fingers felt the weight and resilience of my breasts and triggered the response of my nipples. My hand reached for his ass to feel the shape of muscle power. My other hand reached to feel his cock, my forefinger tracing the sweep of that huge mushroom head from outer rim to the pee slit where a large bubble of fluid oozed. His long finger dipped into my cunt and worked about, making slurp sounds in my abundant lubrication. I was a mature, experienced woman, married, ripe to bursting with desire and need for sex with this man. I pushed him to lie on his back, and got in position to suck him. The heat, the smell of man. I licked the leaking slime to taste it, and it was sweet. I had to open my jaws wider than ever before to admit the huge head. It was a strain to not rake my teeth over the sensitive skin. The unprecedented volume filled my mouth and shut out air to breath. I felt my gag reflex stirring. I lifted my head with a gasp. "You are a very, very big boy. I don't think I can do this properly." "You are doing just fine." He said. But I wasn't. Not with the practiced skill that made Kirk declare I was the best cock sucker he ever had, that long ago night when I had fantasies of being a prostitute. Or of the many times in pure love I deep throated my husband and touched my nose to his pubic hair. I kissed Dennis' cock, smelled it, licked it, pressed it to my cheek, and said, "Tonight this is all for me." "Yes. All for you." "I'm ready." I lay on my back, ready. He opened a drawer on the side table and took out a condom in foil wrap. He was prepared. I had this wild thought... With the condoms you gave me, my own box, and now his supply, he could fuck me twenty five times! He was sheathed and moved to mount me. That is a captivating moment for any woman. Her man getting into position to enter her, she opening herself to feel that first touch of his cock head, its entry into her. It does not matter the number of times she has done this. Every next time is a moment of singular experience rich with renewal. With Dennis, my first other man in my marriage, that moment was rich with sensory awareness multiplied many fold. The blinds were shut, but the sun still not set cast the room in pale light for me to see all. I put my hands under my knees and pulled them far back and spread them wide, putting my body in a bow, lifting my cunt up in offering. I tilted my head forward to gaze between my spread legs at his advance. A big thick man, broad shoulders and long arms, hairy chest with tiny little nipples, round hairy belly, his latex clad cock a pale glow of massive potential guided by his hand to take me, enter me, use me for his pleasure. First touch. No cock of that size had ever been in me before. It opened and spread my cunt, it was master of that collapsed potential space that is the female vagina, and it eased into me with that manly domination of absolute control, of male imperative that cannot be altered or reversed. It filled me and stretched me and buried to the full length in me. I clinched my eyes tight and shuddered and heard myself voicing a high pitched cascading trill of surrender and rapture. "Are you okay?" "Oh God yes. You are so huge and hard and deep inside me. I love it! I love the feel of you inside me." Dennis' face beamed with pride, his entire body, and his cock deep in me, seemed to swell with that pride. And in that moment I loved him. That was not cheating you. We both knew, expected, and agreed I would experience a variety of moments of emotional closeness and unknown peaks of sexual pleasure with the man of our next step, now Dennis. My private benefits. His beaming, swelling, boyish pride in what I said to him was just one of those moments, where I was free to feel...love for him, because there simply was no other word to describe my feeling. Also, his swelling pride contained a gentle and caring intent to pleasure me to the fullest extent possible. How could I not feel love for him, my ideal lover man, in that moment? We were passing ships in the night that docked and connected for that night, and would disconnect and go our separate ways. I was free to feel love for Dennis in that moment and any other moment that had sudden birth. Those moments would be returned to you as part of my complete gift to you. He rested on his elbows and leaned down to kiss my lips. My lips opened to his the same as my cunt had opened to his cock. Our mouths were sexual organs fucking each other. Hot, juicy, demanding, giving and receiving. I circled my arms around his neck and clung to the power of our connection, our sexual fusion, our love making. Deep inside me his cock gave me vivid awareness of a new expansion, a fuller filling, as his body made involuntary hunches. "Sondra... Beautiful woman. Sweet, sweet woman." He kissed me again, his sweet, sweet woman for the night. "You are perfect, Dennis. In every way you are perfect. You are the ideal man. Oh God you feel so, so good inside me." "And we have all night." "Oh yes. Tonight I belong to you. Take me. Fuck me all night long." Still resting on his elbows, he began slow, long thrusting strokes, sliding almost out then back to the depths of me. His hairy belly grazing against mine, sometimes barely touching, sometimes with partial weight, the hot, hairy flesh and muscle working in coordination with the strength in his back and ass and legs to drive his cock in and out of me. You wanted to know this. Dennis is bigger than you. Bigger than any boy or man I had before. I mean the size of his cock head. That big ball, helmet, mushroom shape. I could see it in my mind as I felt it rubbing the grip of my cunt, moving almost out and moving all the way back in. Rubbing my cunt, in and out. I can't describe how that made me feel. It was so lovely and sweet and delicious. My ideal lover man. He filled me full and fucked me. "Oh Dennis. Dennis, Dennis. Oh yes. Take me. Do me." He took me. He did me. My first other man since my husband. And it was wonderful, marvelous, fantastic, and so intensely real and immediate. Docking and coupling with my selected lover to share it all with my darling Jamie. Dennis, my ideal man. So good for me, inside me. And I was good for him. Every sound he made, his broken breathing, his gasps and hisses, told me he found greatest pleasure in my body, my welcoming cunt. He fucked me. He made love to me. I angled my legs and hooked my heels under his ass cheeks, feeling powerful muscles there clinch tight and relax in repetitive drive of his big cock in and out of me. I closed my eyes and sank into the bliss of being a woman. Willowy Sondra. Willowy, wanton, freckled Sondra. Totally surrendered to the filling power of the cock inside me, the joy of sex. There was nothing else in the world then. Just the two of us. Coupled, joined, fused together in equal need to give and take and have. I was a woman being fucked. Clandestine love for a night. He raised up on stiff arms, his hands planted outside my shoulders. With greater leverage he fucked me with faster, harder strokes. In the dim light we gazed into each other's eyes. Jamie wasn't there. Just Dennis. A new man, a different man, a beautiful magnificent man stretched over me, his body in undulating rhythm to drive his cock in me. A new and different and magnificent man fucking me. Sondra. Jamie's wife. He fucked me. We wanted this. We planed this. We even rehearsed this. And it happened. He really was the ideal man. Safe and considerate. A strong and powerful lover. He made me cum. I think I began building to orgasm when his cock first pushed into me. Much of that was actually doing what we both wanted me to do, that wild daring to do it, and at last doing it. Our shared courage to do this. And the fantastic luck he was so perfect for me. The other part was the conquering fit of him in me, and all the feelings his moving cock gave me. I had orgasms in rolling waves the whole time, on and on, one after the other. I heard myself keening high wails and low moans, my body heaving and thrashing. "Yes baby! Reach for it!" His eyes burned with command, his mouth was twisted in a grimace of panting exertion. He fucked me faster and faster, harder and harder. His stiff arms collapsed and went under me to hug me tight, his full weight on me. I circled my arms around his neck and hugged him to me. He screamed out, "I'm coming to you!" He slammed into me with convulsive thrusts, and I felt his big cock head swell even bigger and harder. He came to me. He released a deep baritone gargle of deliverance, and his ass made spastic last hunches to grind his pubic bone hard against mine. And then he lay still, panting for breath. I was in a new space, a new world. Dennis Cantrell had fucked me. The man I had chosen for enrichment of the wonderful toy box my husband and I shared. And he turned out to be the ideal man, the perfect lover. His back was sweaty under my embracing arms. I nuzzled and kissed his neck and tasted salt. He exuded the smell of man and sex. His spent body lay heavy on me, but that was not discomforting. He had given me his all, and I felt deep tenderness for him. And yes, love, in that precious moment. I gave myself to him and he gave himself to me and we completed in blissful sexual satiety. His breathing returned to normal and he again rested on his elbows and kissed me. He kissed me with gratitude and tender love. "You are a wonderful man. A dear, dear man and a fabulous lover." "And you are precious woman, a beautiful woman, and sexy beyond compare." "Ships passing in the night." "Docking and connecting." "Oh yes. Yes, yes, yes." His cock deflated and slid out of me with a little pop sound, and I felt that sensation of loss I felt with every man that ever fucked me - that sudden transition from filled expansion to flaccid emptiness. For an instant I ached to feel that fullness back inside me. He made a clumsy trip to stand, careful not to mash my leg. The reservoir at the tip of the condom was a dangling lozenge full of his cum. He pulled the rubber off and dropped it in a waste can beside the table. He lay beside me and took me in his arms and we snuggled in the glowing embers of heat and sweat and bodily fluids and pleasure nerves still tingling in the aftermath of orgasms. He fucked me good, Jamie. So very, very good. And even better, afterward, there was no guilt or negative feeling of any kind. Not for either of us. I want you to know this. You were not there, his wife was not there, it was only Dennis and I, having that immaculate joy of clandestine love. We were lovers for the night, and the world outside his apartment no longer existed. I cannot know exactly the after effect of an orgasm in a man. I know he is drained and spent and might fall asleep. There are so many variables, and the ways of habits. And this is true of women also. But for me, and most women, I think, the seizure of orgasm flushes and cleanses my mind and body and distills within me a sense of pride and power and possibility, and an urge to possess and praise. "You are wonderful, Dennis. Marvelous. Magnificent. Strong and powerful. I never imagined your cock to be so big." "Bigger than your husband's?" "Our spouses are elsewhere. Let's not bring them in. Tonight is only us, for us to enjoy to the fullest." "Sorry. You are right. Only us. And believe me you are a treasure of a woman. Beautiful, delicious, thrilling, so naturally sexual, and so generous in giving. When I came in you I turned inside out. The pleasure was so sweet it was almost unbearable." His cock size surprised me. Those words he spoke surprised me even more. They were almost poetic. Dennis was truly my ideal man of choice. A feeling of exhilaration and immense pride flooded my insides. I was his sexual, beautiful, generous, treasure of a woman for the night. I would give myself to him for his pleasure, give all I had to give, and he would return it to me in exchange. I squeezed my arms tight around him, to praise and possess him, and breathed in our mingled scents. We both had sweated, but that was beginning to evaporate. Our bodies were still hot. Our breathing returned to normal. We were sated for the moment, but sleep was far away. It was incredible but beautiful, Jamie. Our post-orgasmic phase. It was like the overwhelming delight children experience in some events, innocent and pure and joyful. Guilt and remorse stood no chance. Not for me, with you knowing. But not for Dennis either. I knew that. I knew I had taken over his mind and all his senses and had displaced his wife completely. We were lovers for the night, separate from all the rest of the world. We spoke little, and I knew I wouldn't remember the words to tell you. They had little meaning except as cues to make us giggle and laugh. They inspired hand and body movements to confirm the wonder and satisfaction we found in each other. That was my thought of you then, what I would want to tell you. This act of "infidelity" for Dennis and me was a lovely sweet union of desire that was separated from our other lives. It was clean and pure and vibrant with goodness. A Loving Wife's Story Ch. 13 Dennis was my ideal lover because he was married. He was comfortable in his skin, confident of his abilities, practiced in giving, innately equipped for caring consideration. That gave me my first full thought of his wife Cindy. She was fortunate to have him. I was happy for her, and even, for a tick of time, envious. It occurred to me I wasn't his first extra marital fling. But that thought did not have the shape and weight to make persistent intrusion. I wondered if he was wondering the same thing about me? "I don't want to break this magical spell, but I need to say something." "Say it." "I have never done this before.... You are the first other man since I married." "I hope I made it all worth while for you." "Oh you did, you did! And the night has only begun..... I just... I can't explain why I am here with you tonight. It is so very complicated. I love my husband and my marriage. I want for nothing at home. It's just... you." "No more explanation is needed. I am the same. I love my wife and family. But... You. You came along." "That accident of you sharing your table for coffee. Sexual chemistry fizzed in both of us." "And fizzed more and more. That day at the farmer's market, I wanted you as much as I ever wanted a woman." "Am I your first?" He blushed. "Well... No. There was one other. The chemistry fizzed. I couldn't stop myself. But the chemistry fizz with her was nothing like the desire I have for you." "You are perfectly right for me. I hope I am right for you." "You are honest, natural, beautiful, and fantastically sexy. You are perfection in this night." "I feel no guilt at all. Not a bit." "Nor do I." "We cannot fall in love." "No. But we can make love. Feel love. And play and fuck with joy." "You are my perfect first lover." I sighed and purred and hummed with that vast fulfillment of having it all. My perfect first lover that would fill me again with his perfect cock. My husband back home a quivering bundle of nerves waiting for my return to share with him. And I, my body and beauty and female sexuality supremely validated by Dennis' desire for me. I kissed him with loving gratitude. "I need to pee." I slowly clambered off the bed. My legs felt heavy and weak. I staggered in my first step to the toilet. Dennis got off the bed and followed me. I sat and my bladder squeezed a noisy gush onto the water. Dennis put his hands on my ears and leaned to kiss the top of my head. We stared into each other's eyes and giggled like children. Only a married man who loved his wife could have done that gesture of elevated intimacy, so easily and spontaneously. My perfect first lover. I raised my hand to cup his cock in my palm. His organ had retracted to a nest of wrinkles and firm ball sac, on which rested the big cock head. It was like balancing a large bulb in my hand, which, if planted in fertile soil, would grow to produce a stunning flower. I unrolled a packet of paper and reached down and under to wipe myself, smiling at him. "Do you need to go?" "Maybe. Since I'm here." He stood in place. He squeezed and shot a stream of urine that churned and foamed the water to mingle with mine. My hand seemed to automatically go to his cock to hold it with the tips of my thumb and forefinger. To feel the passage of his pee within, to direct the stream in a playfully creative pattern. Elevated intimacy. We giggled. That was a first for me. I thought of my husband. I would definitely do that for him some time. Hold his cock while he peed. And I would tell hin my impulse to do that was something I brought back from my night with Dennis. So many, many details of my night with Dennis to share with Jamie. The problem would be remembering them all. But they would come back at various times, a wealth of resource for Scherazade to draw on and thrill my husband anew each and every time. That was why I came to Dennis for sex. Primarily why. That and my private pleasures. We returned to bed. There was little daylight left. I turned on the table lamp. "We have no shame. I need to see you." I said. "No shame. Eyes wide open." He said. We lay side by side on the bed and he kissed me with desire and tenderness. His hands fondled my breasts, his fingers teased the nipples. He moved down and sucked a nipple into his mouth. Hot man mouth with voracious hunger feeding on my breast, his lips strong man muscle drawing the nipple in, his tongue flicking and laving the stiffened bud. He was practiced in this. The pleasure he gave me danced, rippled, streaked and flowed all over my chest. Sweetest pleasure that lies apart from all other sexual stimulation. Hot man mouth on my breast, suckling, taking, giving me that pleasure a woman was born to know. He did not neglect the other one. He sucked my tit's a long while, taking turns, and I raked my nails in his hair and held his head tight to me and I purred and hummed and moaned. He moved further down, licking trails down my belly. He moved below me. I parted my legs. He lifted them with his hands and kissed and licked my inner thighs. He lowered his hot man mouth to my cunt. He was practiced in this. He knew was he was doing. I wondered if any residual of fresh pissy smell and taste clung to my pubic hair? But Dennis was a married man and that would not matter to him. My husband always found that a boost to his desire, his communion with me there. Dennis licked my cunt lips. His tongue speared deep to lap my honey. His lips circled to suck in my clit, just as they had done my nipple. His tongue flattened to massage my little pearl. He adored my cunt with his mouth, and I soared to orgasm, an orgasn that clutched, gripped, siezed, wrenched, that electrified my scalp and curled my toes and tossed me over the edge of consciousness. I came back down, back down to earth and the here and now. "Oh God you are good. So very, very good." He was back up beside me. My cunt juice left a scattered glisten on his mouth and chin. His eyes smoldered in deserved pride of accomplishment. We didn't talk. There was nothing to say. His mouth that had adored my cunt and my shattering orgasm said it all. We rested in deep peace. Sex is reciprocal energy and activity. I reached my hand to hold his cock and felt it unfold, grow and swell. The hydrolics of cock erection will never cease to amaze me. It is like an independent personality attached to a man, a silent little man set free to arise and strut and dance and assert. Dennis' little man stood tall and broad and packed with assertive intent. I had to adore it with my mouth. He was too big for me to suck in all I wanted. And I did want all of him. If he came in my mouth I would swallow it all, for I knew he would taste delicious. But I wanted him to come in my cunt again. I loved his cock with my lips and tongue. The shape, the rigidity, the silken texture of the skin. The smell. The smell of man, his cock and balls, his groin, the pungency of sex. "Let's get you dressed again." He twisted and opened the table drawer. He rolled the condom down his mighty cock. "Lie back." I said. He did, in eager compliance. I straddled his legs and positioned myself to sit on him. With my thumb and forefinger, I aligned the huge head to me and sank slowly down. Once more I was filled with Dennis, expanded and transformed. I was on top, in control. You like it when I am on top and in control of you. Dennis liked it too. I wonder if all men like that, from time to time? Do all women? In a way it was like masturbating. Maybe with a toy, which I don't know, since I don't have or use one. But in a large sense, Dennis's big cock was like my own toy that I used to pleasure myself. I used it to search for and find those nerve sensations so ripe and ready to burst, by humping, twisting my ass, exploring incremental depths and lingering at the fruitful ones, plunging all the way to rub my clit on his pubic bone. I was entirely selfish, using Dennis and his big cock to pleasure myself. And that was liberating and releasing. I was a woman being a woman. I was taking what belonged to me. That right of orgasmic splendor. And my orgasm marshelled its forces and began to quickly take control of me. Just in time, because I was rapidly tiring by my exertions. And I felt fresh appriciation for the stamina of men. And then I was gripped and crushed by my orgasm that devoured me. I collapsed on him, a sweaty, panting, blob on his chest. But we weren't done. He was still hard and throbbing deep in me. I wanted more. More, more, more! "Your turn. Do me from behind. Take me. Use me." I dismounted from him and rested on my knees and elbows. He moved to stand on the floor. "Come here." He commanded. I scuttled about to plant my knees near the edge of the mattress. He took our measure. "Spread your legs wider." He ordered. I did, and my bottom, big and round and spread was offered for his taking and using. I laid my head on my crossed arms. I was a slope of submission. Ass high, head prostrate. I smelled the twisted sheet. That new out of the package smell, like that faint smell of ink in a newspaper. I loved Dennis for that. New sheets for me. I loved the touch of his big cock head to my opened wanting cunt. He entered me. I lost my mind. He controlled me. I was his. I was a woman, a surrendered vessel for his cock and his pleasure. A vessel filled and soon to overflow with my own pleasure. A married woman being fucked by a new man. I lost my mind. Lost in the power of his standing leverage behind me, his long hard thrusts in and out of me, lost in being a receptical for our mindless lust. Standing behind me, he fucked me hard and for a long time. His body smacking against my ass in deep thrusts, his big cock head reaming me when he swiveled his hips in short thrusts. I was total submission to him on my knees, my ass raised in surrender. That was the primitive, animal way of a male taking a female. I opened my cunt, my entire body, and my mind to total submission to the power of man and cock. I was Sondra, a woman with a PhD., your wife, a slut and a whore, and I was a Goddess, a pristine divinity. It didn't matter who Dennis was. He was the personification of every man; he could have been any man. Spittal drooled from the corner of my mouth. My fingers clawed and clinched the sheet. Dennis huffed and grunted behind me, slamming into me, plowing my cunt. I heard a wail escape my throat like a sound coming from another person in the room. I came with such intense pleasure I fainted. To be continued... A Loving Wife's Story Ch. 14 I felt a hand on my breast, fingers playing and very lightly pinching. The length of a hot man body pressed to my back. A hard cock lodged in the crack of my ass. I opened my eyes to darkness. I didn't know where I was or if I was awake or asleep or dreaming. The hum sound of a voice at the top of my head made me aware I wasn't lying with my husband. Dennis Cantrell. I came wide awake. I turned to face Dennis. His big hard cock poked my stomach. "What happened?" I asked, in a small voice of genuine wonder. Dennis laughed a happy rumble from his belly. "You can't remember?" "I know you gave me the most shattering fuck I ever had. I can't remember you turning off the lamp. Or how I managed to get up here." "You sort of crawled up here. Then you crashed. We both did." "What time is it?" He peered at his clock with luminous numbers next to my purse on the bedside table. "Ten thirty." I circled my arm around him and kissed his lips. The taste was slightly stale at first, but became spicy sexual soon enough. Spicy sexuality heated my cunt. His cock swelled and throbbed. "Shall I turn the light on?" "No. Like this. All feeling all knowing in darkness." He moved to top me. I spread my legs wide and pulled my knees back. His big marvelous cock head nosed in my cunt lips and pushed into the depths of me. I was filled with him once more, and I could look up at his form and lines and the planes of his face, all discernable in darkness, all available to touch and caress. Face to face, Dennis over me, his cock deep in me, filling and expanding me. Sweet and lovely, like married sex. That utter relaxation of giving and receiving, of divine pleasure. I snapped fully awake. "Aren't we forgetting something?" "I promise you I am clean. Are you on the pill?" "I am." I trusted him to be clean, with as much trust as I had in my pill to prevent pregnancy. "But..." "I'll get one if you want." We hadn't really discussed this in our rehearsal of details, our mental preparation. We just assumed condoms would be a safety requirement. Dennis was like us, a married man, not a disease carrier. I had no fear of that at all. What I did wonder was the effect it might have on you. Another man's cum flooding my cunt. My carrying traces of it for you to see when I returned home. Would that evidence of the reality of Dennis fucking me raise your excitement to a higher pitch than you had yet experienced.? Something valuable and necessary to share with you, like the size of his cock? I did not know. I thought it might. Then I felt sure my returning to you with his cum in me would have a tremendously positive effect on your psyche, your capacity for the erotic thrill in my fucking other men. I assumed the responsibility and made a decision. "I trust your good health. I trust my pill." "I feel so much more in you." "And I of you. Bare skin in bare skin. Make love to me Dennis. Fuck me and come in me." He did. It was sweet and lovely and languid. The passion was all in tenderness and affection. We had nothing to prove. We had exhausted our letting go in our preceding bouts of exploding infidelity, our clandestine lust for each other. Now we joined in a different purpose. Sweet and slow, full of feeling. I could picture his ass muscles clinching and expanding, bobbing and dipping to slide his cock in and out of me. I threw my arms back on the bed. My cocked legs cradling him moved back and forth like they were on hinges, in syncopated rhythm with his thrusts. His moving cock dynamic with purpose and energy, but also sweet and gentle. My pleasure was a low key orgasm that soon eased in and gradually built to a peak, but not a peak that pierced the stratosphere. His pleasure in my cunt hugging his bare skin seemed more direct, more intense, more engaged with all his senses. His thrusts increased in pace and vigor until he was slamming into me. I heard him cry out "I'm coming, I'm coming.!" He came in me. There is no other feeling to compare with the feeling of a man's seed shooting into me. I think I know exactly when it will happen, by his body language, his vocal noise, and his cock head swelling even larger and tighter. But I am often wrong. It might happen earlier, or later, than I expected. And always I am surprised by the velocity and the amount and how soothing the substance is to the heat generated by the fleshy friction in there. His cum flooding and soothing my depths made its mark, like a signature to his creation. In no other way can a woman be as voluntarily and completely joined to a man. Dennis was my perfect lover of choice for the night. The night had to end. We both were exhausted. We lay side by side and didn't talk. We cooled down. "I have to go." "Can't stay all night?" "Too risky. And I have classes tomorrow.. When are yours over?" "Friday. Grades are posted and I'm out of here... That leaves two more days for us to get together again." "Oh Dennis. my wonderful, magnificent lover. Don't think I don't want to. But... This is it. We docked and we coupled. Now we are separate ships going opposite ways. You to your wife, me to my husband." It took a moment, but all he could finally say was, "Yes. We did it and now we go our separate ways." I got up from the bed and found my tube top and fitted it over me. I wrapped my skirt around me. I stepped into my sandals. I felt his cum leaking out of me. He stood tall and broad and naked and embraced me. We kissed good night. "I will never forget you. And this night. And the depths of satisfaction I feel right now." "And you are a wonderful lover too, you know. A beautiful woman, honest and precious and delicious. I will never forget this night either." I left his apartment without further ceremony. No one was out and about to see me. When I was driving I called my husband. "I'm coming home now." "I'm waiting." Jamie was waiting for me. He had waited for hours, alone, imagining. His ordeal of waiting alone was something we couldn't define or estimate when I left. Now I was returning to him, and I was the face on the other side of our stamped coin. There was no way to predict the churn of emotions in me as I drove home to my husband. So many opposites were darting about, tugging and pulling and dominating then falling away. All at the same time. I was physically exhausted, but at the same time I was emotionally energized and floating on air. I would never see my lover again, but I could sense a squishiness of his cum in my cunt, and I felt again the commanding dimensions of his cock in me, moving in me, so vivid and immediate it was like I was riding his cock as I drove. Drove to return to my husband. I would tell him what I felt and thought in my solitary return. He would tell me what he felt and thought while waiting. Precious, fragile elements of our sharing. So many elements and details to share with him. Too many to gather and process and line up in one story. My night with Dennis would be a treasure trove in our toy box that I would plunder to thrill Jamie with stories for months, maybe years, to come. Home. My home. Our home. A modest but bold statement of architectural splendor and wealth, brick with stone trim, some leaded windows, a slate roof. The grounds a carefully tended garden of shrubbery and flower beds, scents of near summer blossoms perfuming the warm balmy night. Where I was mistress of the manor, loving wife to my darling Jamie, my King, my Lord and Master. The light in the house was a compressed glow. There was a mirror in the entry foyer. My reflection in the dim light startled me. Loving wife and Mistress of the Manor looked a mess. My hair was in stringy and clumpy disarray. My tube top and wrap around skirt were fitting props for a slut and a whore. My body looked broken in, like an old shoe, by another man who had fucked me three times. Jamie sat in the den, wearing his silk kimono. One lamp was lit. I stood in the den door way and stared at him. He stared at me. I knew he saw me as I saw myself in the vestibule mirror. His wife, a woman who had been thoroughly and vigorously fucked by another man. Looking sluttish and whorish, but still beautiful and precious. "We did it." I said proudly. "We took that next step." I smiled my pride in our courage and daring, and all the tingling sensations I still carried inside me. A drip of Dennis' cum I carried on my inner thigh. Jamie stood. "How was it?" He said. "Good, Jamie. Very, very good. He was good to me and for me. I am so lucky. He really did turn out to be the ideal man for what we wanted to experience." My husband stared at me with a need to know that was palpable. He needed to know I had returned to him whole in my love for him and only for him. I walked to him and he took me in his arms. "I love you Jamie. You are my love and my life. At this moment I love you even more than ever before. I am your wife, you are my husband, and we will never part." He hugged me tight and hard to confirm we were destined to be together and would never part. He nuzzled his nose in my hair. He sniffed. "Can you smell him on me?" "I think so. Yes. You smell like sex. Meaty and fleshy. You look like a woman who has been well fucked. You smell like a woman who has been well fucked. I can smell him on you." "Smell me and him. Store the scents in your mind. Remember them when I tell you my story." "You will tell me everything." "Yes. Everything. We dared to take this step. I will share every thing with you. Let's go to bed." We walked with our arms around each other. I staggered some. He put his hand on my ass. "I feel a wet spot." "He fucked me three times. The first two times he wore a condom. The third time he didn't." Jamie was rattled. Not dismayed so much as disconcerted. "Why? Why did you let that happen?" "I was in a fog. The second time he fucked me was long and energetic. I crashed. Passed out, really. I had no awareness of him removing the rubber or turning off the table lamp. We slept dead to the world for an hour or more. I woke up and felt him hard and wanting me. I was in that fog of half asleep and half awake. He was in me and moving before I realized he was bare. I don't think he realized it either. What happened was so natural and easy and spontaneous. I let it happen. Also, I had a strong desire to feel his cum spurt into me. I trust his good health, Jamie. He is like us. He has a wife to protect and I feel certain he hasn't done risky and foolish promiscuity." Jamie rubbed his fingers on my ass. "His cum leaked and soaked your skirt as you drove back home." "It did. Much of it. Maybe all of it. There might be some left inside. We will see." I ripped off my tube top and skirt and flopped on our bed. Our marriage bed. A wife gloriously fucked by another man, by deliberate plan. We did it. And it was so very, very good. Jamie was naked under his kimono. He tossed it aside, turned off the light, and lay beside me. He circled his arm around me and held me loosely. I knew his senses were in a turmoil. My slutty whorish appearance when he first saw me and stared at me, my body reeking with dried sweat and odors of sex and the tell tale smells of another man. The seed of another man leaking from me. He got a fierce erection. I felt jubilant. "Oh baby. Darling Jamie my love. We did it and now I have a gift to give you. Many details. Many stories to excite and enflame you." I held his cock tenderly. "You know I do. You are so big and hard." "Tell me all." I sighed, with no idea how to start. "Was it terrible for you waiting?" "It was an alien and wracking experience. Very scary and very exciting. I tried to imagine all you were doing, what you were doing at any moment. But I couldn't. It all became a jumble." "Did you jerk off?" "Yes. I had to." "Oh my love my love. We had to experience it. You waiting at home alone. All that you felt. Neither of us could foresee... Something else has happened we couldn't foresee." "What?" Jamie's body stiffened, his voice tone was alarmed. "Now. This very moment. Back with you in our bed. I am so scattered. My mind is everywhere. My body and my cunt still tingles from Dennis. But I am very tired. Exhausted. I want to tell you everything, but I don't think I can tonight. Can you understand? Can you wait another day?" "Oh God, Sondra. That's asking a lot." "I know, my love. But it will be so much better for you. I have all tomorrow to organize my experience with him, sort out all the details, and tell you my story tomorrow night that will thrill you more than any of my stories ever did. Right now, I am so scattered I can't put it all together. I can still feel his cock in me, but I am also exhausted. Try to understand." "I do. Waiting again won't be easy." "This time will be all to your advantage. Tomorrow you will remember how I looked when I came home. The look of a woman fucked three times. How I smell right now, the smells of sex and another man. Put your finger in me." He slipped his finger deep in my cunt and wiggled it about. "Can you feel any?" "I think so. You are wet and slippery. It feels... thick and viscous." "The last of his cum. Tomorrow you will remember that too, along with my well fucked look and the smells of sex sticking to me now. Tomorrow night you will be fully primed for my story and your reward. And I will tell you the most exciting story you ever heard. One of many stories waiting to be told." "Oh my God." "I love you Jamie, my husband, only you and forever you." "I love you Sondra, my wife, my life, now and always. I closed my eyes and they stayed closed. I fell into that oblivion of deep, peaceful sleep, without dreams, without a stir until the dawn of a new day. The End