How to Expand your Wife's Horizons.
This submission was initially released under the category of Loving Wives. Unfortunately, this and another offering earned me so much abuse that I seriously considered removing all my stories and closing my account.
I will leave comments open, but please, if all you're going to do is write an anonymous derogatory insult, don't bother. Please don't bother because I'll delete the comment and turn off all comments.
Chapter 1: Explanations and Motivations.
After I wrote the manual "How to Make a Sissy", I received numerous emails asking if I could write a similar workbook on how to open a woman's sexuality up. It seemed that many men wanted their wives to play and experiment, but they had no idea of how to go about helping and encouraging their wives' promiscuity.
I have always responded, "I don't know if I can write that manual because I have no real idea how to do it."
It has finally occurred to me that I kind of do.
The following is how I moved my wife from a 'suppressed Christian girl' to a sexually confident BDSM switch.
Warning:
As with almost any change you make, that change comes with a price. If you introduce your wife to lesbian sex, don't be surprised when you discover you could do it so easily because she is a lesbian.
Also, don't be surprised if she quickly surpasses you and becomes a 'hot wife', or perhaps more accurately, a 'slut wife'.
And don't be surprised if your marriage breaks down.
Lastly, remember that the fantasy of watching your wife being fucked by another man is awesome, but the reality can be starkly confronting. Especially when you realise the guy doing your wife is doing her way better than you and that she has cum harder with him than at any time with you.
With these warnings in mind, let's begin the story...
My wife and I moved in together when I was twenty-two and she was twenty-three. We had decided to live together to 'give it a go' for the sake of our unborn child that Vicky was carrying. Thirty-seven years later, this week, we've agreed to 'give it a go' for another year.
When I came to know her, Vicky was a good Christian girl living at home with her parents, Majors Edmond and Cheryl Booker of The Salvation Army. Ed and Cheryl were Vicky's foster parents. Vicky was a victim of abuse and had been taken from her biological parent's home and placed with the Bookers when she was quite young.
We were both inpatients at a mental health facility when we met. Vicky was there because she was self-harming. I was there because I had a rage episode where I blanked out and hospitalised a man I'd found in bed with my wife.
The court gave me a choice between committing myself and getting help for my anger issues or going to jail--an easy decision to make.
Vicky and I hit it off immediately and were lovers less than a week later.
At that time, Vicky and I were both married to others, as neither of us had gotten our divorce yet. I had been briefly married to the woman, Mistress Eliza, described in my series 'My Introduction to BDSM'. Vicky had married some complete tosser in the false belief he loved her.
This bastard both beat her and cheated on her.
As part of her self-harm regime, Vicky was anorexic and slowly starving herself to death. Even so, to my eyes, she was gorgeous. She still is. In those glorious days of our young love, my wife stood a tiny 5-ft. 4-in. (163 cm) tall and weighed a meagre 88 lbs. (40 kg).
Vicky was a social jogger who ran around 20 miles (32 km) weekly. My soon-to-be wife had auburn hair, flashing green eyes, and a bright white smile. Nobody would describe Vicky as beautiful, not even me, but she is beyond pretty, especially when she smiles.
Even anorexic, Vicky's legs and ass were lithe and toned. Vicky has (still) a tight, gorgeously round butt. In those days, her breasts were firm ripe apples on her thin chest. They have the biggest, most dying for someone to nibble on, nipples.
With childbirth, my wife's breasts grew from a B cup to a glorious Double D.
I was still training, hoping that a spinal injury I had suffered playing rugby would repair itself sufficiently and I could begin track athletics again. Every week, I ran between 40 and 60 miles (64 and 97 km), depending on what my spine would let me do.
I stood 6-ft. 4 in. tall (193 cm) and weighed a lean 174 lbs (79 kg). I was doing aerobics, circuit training, and lifting weights to make up for the lack of distance I could run. I was so toned that you could draw virtually all of the various muscle groups over my body because they were that well-defined.
Friendship was the first thing that bloomed between Vicky and me. We found each other to be almost kindred spirits and could talk for hours about just about anything.
Vicky loved that I was tall, athletic and very self-confident.
I tend to be a 'helper' or, maybe, 'rescuer' is a more apt description. I like to be needed. I like people relying on me and needing me. At that time, no one was more needful than Vicky, and I became her protector, her Knight in Shining Armour. I liked it, but I already knew that I would need to help Vicky become self-dependent and be her own woman for our relationship to last a lifetime.
To achieve this, I had to build Vicky's self-confidence.
Weirdly, although she was anorexic, Vicky believed she was fat, dowdy and unattractive. So once Vicky knew me well enough to know it was a joke, I nicknamed her 'Chubby'. Thirty-seven years later, Vicky is still tiny, toned and delicious, and I still call her by that name.
Chapter 2: In the Beginning.
I was allowed to leave the hospital after completing my anger management course. Another month passed before Vicky was considered 'no longer a danger to herself' and was also released.
In those pre-mobile phone days, staying in contact was much more difficult than today. Close to three months passed before Vicky found a phone number for me. She phoned my workplace and left the receptionist a number on which she could be reached.
Unfortunately, that receptionist forgot to give me the message. Hence, another month passed before I learned a number to return Vicky's call. As you can imagine, Vicky was royally pissed at me when I called her. She thought I had ditched her now that we were both out of the hospital.
Sidebar: Our First Night.
I've missed something here. So let me back up a second and tell you about the first time Vicky and I made love.
To impress Mistress Eliza, I completed a remedial massage course. Until a few years ago, when arthritis in my thumbs cruelled my abilities, I gave the best massages. One of my specialties is giving face massages.
One evening, in the hospital's shared common room, I offered one to Vicky. I sat on the sofa, and Vicky sat on the floor between my legs. Vicky had dressed for bed as it was close to lights out. With a baggy top covered by a loosely tied robe on and her being below me, I could see down her top and across the mounds of her breasts to just short of her lusciously big nipples.
With her head tipped back, Vicky had to have been aware of how big my erection was, given the back of her head was resting on my thighs very close to it.
This night was the first time my body had a physical reaction to the woman I'd marry. It was then that I knew I wanted more than friendship from this remarkable person.
