Wife Gets Horny for Someone Else

For months my wife had been other than her normally cheerful self.

It was clear she had been depressed and out of sorts for nearly a year.

Her mood was sullen and despondent, and she had very little enthusiasm for much of anything.

I really wanted to bring her out of it, but I didn't have a clue about what had gotten her so down.

She had very little interest in sex, at least with me, but I wasn't sure it was a sexual problem.

She would sleep most of the time and stay around the house during the day just watching daytime television and reading romance novels.

I tried many things but nothing seemed to interest her.

I tried to interest her in travel, suggested taking a vacation, but nothing seemed to help.

She wasn't interested.

I talked to a couple of her friends, and they had noticed it too, but neither of them had any idea what the problem was.

She is a very private person, and I wasn't surprised they didn't know.

I then found a website for a swinging group locally and I printed out the homepage.

It was a desperate measure, but I was at my wits end.

I left it on the coffee table in the family room and waited to see if she would find it.

Maybe that would interest her.

She had been pretty sexually active before we met, and I thought maybe that could do the trick.

Maybe she just needed some variety.

One day I came home from work and she was obviously angry about something.

You know when you don't have to ask, you just know you're in the doghouse.

Finally, just before dinner she tossed the swingers brochure on the kitchen table and said, "Is this your idea of a joke?

You trying to tell me something?" she asked in an angry voice that said I had just fucked up royally.

"So, you looking to fuck somebody's wife?" she asked angrily.

I said I was just looking for something to bring her out of her funk, that I was just grasping at straws.

"So being fucked by another woman's husband will do that you think?" she asked with her hands on her hips, in the pose like a boxer who had just knocked down his opponent, standing over her flattened adversary like she was ready to finish him off.

I stood up from my chair and took the brochure and turned it towards her.

"I just thought it might be something you might be interested in.

You used to like sex.

I don't know.

I thought it might help.

You seem so depressed lately," I said.

"You haven't wanted sex with me for months.

You are obviously unhappy.

I was willing to try anything.

Really, anything.

It wasn't something I had ever thought about, but I would try it if it would help get you out of whatever it is that's got you so depressed."

She suddenly collapsed on the chair behind her and started to cry.

"I am so sorry," she said in an instant turnaround, looking positively miserable.

"I don't know what is wrong lately."

She was quiet for a while, then she looked up and smiled sheepishly.

"I haven't been a very good wife lately," she said.

"I am so, so sorry," she said.

"I don't know what is wrong with me."

"I am willing to try anything.

Really," I said, "absolutely anything.

I love you more than I can even express.

There is nothing I won't do for you.

If you want it, I will do it," I said.

"Anything, anybody, anyway.

I will try whatever it is you think you need," I said, pleading my case and trying make her understand how serious I was.

She was quiet for a long time.

We simply looked at one another, with neither of us knowing what to say.

Finally, she raised her head and smiled at me with the saddest eyes I think I have ever seen.

"I have been having temptations lately that frighten me," she confessed.

"I am ashamed of them, embarrassed at myself and what I have been thinking about lately."

I put my hand on her cheek.

"You don't need to be ashamed of anything," I said.

"You mean like other people?" I asked.

She nodded.

"That is perfectly normal.

Everyone has feelings like that.

Curiosity.

That is normal.

Everyone thinks about what it would be like to be with someone else.

I have, but I want to be with you," I said.

"But sexual curiosity is common.

Some people even experiment.

Some people share their partners with others," I said.

"If you need that, I could handle that if I had to.

You think you might want that?"

"I don't know," she said.

"Maybe.

I don't know."

She shrugged.

"Think about it.

If you need that, then I can do it.

Even if you don't want me to have sex with anyone else, but if that is what you want, I can do that," I said, taking her into my arms.

We held each other for a long time.

"I swear I will do whatever you need, whatever it takes."

"You wouldn't hate me if I wanted sex with someone else?" she asked with a voice so dejected and meek that it nearly killed me to hear.

"I couldn't hate you if you wanted to screw everybody I know," I said.

She laughed and dried her eyes on her sleeve.

She shook her head.

"Not everyone you know," she said shaking her head still.

"I don't like everyone you know."

I laughed and kissed her again tenderly.

"Everyone you like," I said with a chuckle, trying hard to keep her joking, keep her smiling.

Again, she shook her head and laugh-cried at the same time.

"I didn't think I would ever have these thoughts," she said tearfully.

"I have felt so guilty, so depraved, so immoral," she said sadly. We held each other without speaking.

I waited for her to go on, but she was silent.

Finally, she spoke.

"Could you really handle that?" she asked in nearly a whisper, but a hopeful whisper.

I kissed her, told her I could do anything she needed to make her happy, and assured her things would be okay.

"But could you?" she asked again.

I just nodded and we sat on the couch and were quiet.

Without saying anything more we spent the evening without talking about it, had a quiet dinner, and went to bed early.

In bed she put her arms around my body and began to cry again, snuggling against me, then she asked what I wanted to do.

"I want to do whatever you need," I said.

She didn't say anything for a long time, then she sighed and said, "What if I was with somebody else?" she asked quietly.

"Do you love me?" I asked.

She said she did and I said that was all that mattered.

"Who would you like?" I asked next to her ear.

Without moving she whispered in a breathy voice, "Jake," she said timidly.

"Okay," I said, not really surprised by her answer.

He was a close friend, had been with us on many occasions and was single, athletic, and very handsome and personable.

Jake had been at our wedding and I had been surprised she was interested in me rather than him.

I knew many women were attracted to Jake, but I really didn't know Claire was one of them.

I immediately began thinking of how I could make things work for them.

"Would you like him here, or would you rather go some place with just the two of you?" I asked, thinking as I said it how I would let him know I was okay with his being with my wife.

"I think I would rather it be some place else," she said softly.

I said that would be fine.

"Do you think he knows?" I asked.

She said she didn't think so, because she had never talked to him about the two of them.

I asked how long she had been having those feelings about him.

"I am not sure," she said.

"For a while.

I guess it has been about ten months."

Clearly she was sure. That went along with the amount of time I had noticed her depression and lack of enthusiasm for just about anything.

"I am not interested in the swinger's lifestyle, and I guess that's not fair to you, but.... " I said not to worry about what is fair for me.

"Let's just get you back to normal and take care of you," I said.

"Would you like to have me talk to Jake, or do you want to do it?" I asked.

She thought for a minute.

"I think I'd like to," she said.

"I need to tell him you are okay with it.

I think he needs to hear it from me, so he will know I am really serious."

I knew that was probably true.

I did know I wanted it for her, but what I wasn't sure of is how I would handle it.

I had never thought of her with anyone else, so it was not a fantasy of mine like some guys.

I have heard about men who dream of their wives being with other men, but it was not true for me.

What would I do and how would I feel while she was with him?

Over the next few days I could not think of anything but Claire having sex with Jake.

I went through spells of jealousy,

depression, and insecurity.

I did have a friend who I knew was in an open relationship, and I wondered if talking to him would help.

That would, of course, mean I would reveal to someone else that Claire was interested in another man.

My insecurity eliminated that possibility pretty quickly.

I began to imagine her with him, seeing the two of them together in bed, doing things I had never thought about her doing with anyone else but me.

It made me realize that if you said you could handle something that you better be able to.

I read all I could about wife sharing and extramarital sexual relationships.

I looked on the internet at articles about polyamory and open marriages, and I found it was more common than I realized.

I found that many women had fantasies about men other than their husbands.

What I learned was what I was already thinking: if you said you could handle it, it better be true.

I read statistics on married women who were having affairs, and I was surprised at the high percentage.

It advised that husbands who found out their wives were unfaithful to not freak out.

"Easy for you to say," I thought.

One article said a factor in the high percentages of women having affairs was the high rate of men working so many hours in their careers, but that didn't seem to be me, but was it?

I did work hard, but I knew many around me who seemed more driven.

I had actually felt guilty for not being more motivated in my work.

I decided to go to the source, and I figured I would ask Claire if she felt ignored.

That night I asked her if we could talk.

Yes, she did react like anyone who gets the 'can we talk' speech.

She looked like a deer in the headlights and nodded, clearly afraid of what I was about to say.

"Do you feel ignored because of how much I am gone with my job?"

I asked.

She shook her head.

"Oh, no," she said.

"That wasn't it.

It is me.

I have become obsessed with sex."

That surprised me, because I didn't think she had any interest in sex.

"I was going through sexual stress I didn't understand," she explained.

"I was tempted by urges and desires that bubbled out of me like lava.

I saw men on the street and I thought about having sex with them.

I began to masturbate for the first time in my life.

I had never been gripped by sex like that before.

I became controlled by temptations I did not understand and I still don't, but maybe being with Jake will help.

During last year when I could think of nothing else, I wanted to tell you but I couldn't.

I started thinking of Jake and I could not think of anything but that.

I am still under its spell, but it had nothing to do with your job."

The words came spilling out of her like a volcano and I began to feel guilty for having allowed her to go through such torment without seeing what was happening.

The person I loved was going through painful times and I could do nothing but listen and finally, allow her what she longed for.

The fact that it was sex with my friend was of no consequence.

I just hurt for her.

"I haven't been able to sleep lately," she said, "even though it seems I sleep all the time.

It is not restful sleep.

I finally went to a sex therapist last month and he said I needed to face my demons and tell you, but I didn't know how.

I am glad you finally brought it out of me," she said, "but when you left that brochure for the swinger's group I thought you were mocking me and I got angry at you.

"You need to be with Jake," I said finally.

"Sweetheart, you don't deserve this agony.

Call him.

Please, baby.

Do with him what you can't do with me," I said.

"Please."

She finally agreed to consider it.

When she called him I listened to them talk, although I could only hear her part of the conversation.

She talked to him for over an hour and finally told him outright she wanted them to have sex.

She was quiet as he spoke, probably he was telling her it didn't have to be that way, but by that time I wanted it for her.

I wanted her suffering to stop, no matter what it took.

If she had to fuck him everyday, I didn't care.

It just hurt me that she agonized so much over something I could help with by giving her permission to express herself with my friend.

He called me, to his credit, and we spoke for a long time.

I ended up telling him I wanted it for her.

I asked him as a favor for me to make love to my wife and he finally, after a great deal of coaxing from me, agreed.

We made the arrangements and set it up, like a business deal, like two men agreeing on a purchase of land.

When she went to meet him it was torture, but at the same time I prayed that it would happen and relieve some of her tension, her guilt, her sexual desires.

I told her that sex was not the most important thing in the world, that I could live with it, that it was what I wanted.

By then it was.

It was on a Saturday that he picked her up to take her to the Marriott.

She looked so radiant, so full of life, so happy.

I could not deny her.

As she got in his car I felt exuberant and at peace.

I saw him put his hand on her bottom and my heart rate picked up.

I don't ever remember wanting anything so much as I wanted my wife to be thoroughly and wonderfully fucked by my old friend.

It was incredible how good I felt, watching them drive away, knowing my wife was going to have the sex she had dreamed about for so long.

It was an amazing phenomenon, but it actually did make me happy to think about.

Once back inside I began to imagine what would take place between them, what they would do, what he would do to her, what she would do to him.

I pictured in my mind his erect penis pushing into her, almost hearing her moans of pleasure, seeing her arch her body as he drove into her repeatedly, sending her to orgasm after orgasm, giving her the pleasure my wife craved from another man. It was amazing how excited I got for them.

I began to understand what a cuckold felt at the idea his wife was being fucked by a virile and potent partner.

I realized that a man could get pleasure from knowing his wife was being "serviced" by another, that the indulgence could be fulfilling and the pleasure sweet.

I browsed through magazines, looking at photo spread of couples having sex, pretending Claire and Jake were the couple, seeing them do the things I saw in the features.

I watched porn films and put my wife and my friend in the scenes and imagined them doing what the actors were doing in the videos.

I even began to want to hear from her what he did, what she liked, what she did to him.

It began to arouse me to imagine what she would tell me, and I pictured every possible position, technique, and thing they might do.

I thought of him giving her anal, which she once liked; eating her pussy, which I used to do when we first began to date; and I thought of her giving him oral, which she rarely ever did to me.

It actually aroused me to think she would do things with him that she would not do with me.

I didn't understand it, but it was the reality I could not deny.

In my fantasies she was ravenous.

I imagined her begging him to "fuck" her hard and fast, to fill her with semen and make her belly grow.

I began to think of her loving him and the thought excited me even more, which surprised me tremendously, but it made me feel close to them both, like we were a three-way team and the two of us shared her.

I started to see what the polyamorous people felt about multiple relationships.

I began to understand what men felt who watched their wives with other men and got pleasure from

seeing her with someone else.

I had turned a corner myself and there was no going back.

However, I didn't want to go back.

When she came home in the morning after spending the night with Jake, I told her how happy I was that she could finally be with him, how eager I was to hear all about her night, and how much I had changed since she left with him the night before.

I tied to explain how I felt, what I had gone through, but it was not easy to put into words.

How do you tell your wife you are happy that she fucked your friend?

How do you say you are happy she might even love him?

"What do you want to do now?" I asked.

She looked at me for probably a minute, then shrugged.

"I don't know," she said, as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders.

"It was... " She paused.

"It was really wonderful," she said.

"I don't think I want it to stop," she said, as if admitting a serious secret.

"I don't understand it.

It just happened to me.

I do love you, but I think I might also love Jake," she said softly.

"I don't want to hurt you, of course.

I don't know what I want," she said, bewildered by the whirlwind of her own emotions.

We sat that morning just sitting together, neither of us knowing just what to say, just how to relieve the situation.

Finally, I asked if she thought she might want to be with him instead of me.

She looked at me and by her smile I knew it was a possibility.

I had never considered that as a possible option, but it was clear by the look o Claire's face that it was.

We decided we all needed to talk.

I think I suggested it, but I can't remember for sure.

It just became clear that it was something we all needed to discuss and Jake should be included.

It certainly involved him and he needed to be in on any decisions.

When we made the decision to all meet together, Claire and I held one another and we even cried some, knowing that our lives had certainly changed, whether for the better or worse it was not clear.

We just knew things would be different from that moment on.

Claire then went to Jake's house and they talked, then we all met at ours and sat in our family room and waited for someone to start.

"I know how you both feel about one another," I said finally.

"I love her and I know how she feels about you, Jake."

It was hard for me to say 'she loves you' but I knew that was the case.

"I do love Claire," Jake said, "to be honest.

I always have."

I said I knew that and that was the truth.

I truly knew that he did.

I had known since our conversation before their first time alone.

"Would you like us all to live together?" I asked her.

Without hesitation she nodded.

"We have the two houses," I said, "so we could have her go from one place to the other, or we could sell one and all be in the same house.

What do you think, Jake?" I asked him.

"I think that would put way too much pressure on Claire," he said, making an obviously good point.

"I think I should sell my place, let her stay where she is," he said, "in her own house."

She smiled, clearly agreeing.

"You would be willing to do that?" I asked him.

He said for Claire he was willing to do quite a lot.

I am not the one willing to share his wife with an other man.

I am the other man," he said with a smile.

Jake put his place on the market and it sold within the week.

Jake now has the guest room, and I have our master bedroom.

We have a three-car garage: his Corvette, her Mercedes, and my Tacoma truck.