Something Between Them

I knew there was something between them long before they told me. The way she looked at him, said his name, even the hoarseness in her voice when he was around told me she was probably wet in her panties when he was close, and I suspected they had been intimate long before anything was revealed to me.

When we were together it was clear they had gone far beyond just friends, but the funny thing to me was that didn't trouble me like I expected it to. Strangely, it aroused me more than upset me, and the thought of them together was more of a turn on than troubling. I began to watch them interact and socialize when we were together.

She brushed against him often, and I was aware of her cheeks reddening when he was near. I had heard about men aroused by their wives' attraction to other men, and at first I doubted it actually existed, but the fact remained, as I watched her react to him I was aroused and felt a warming of my flesh.

I even began picturing them in stages of intimacy, kissing or fucking shameless and unrestrained, wantonly and without limitations. The thought of their hunger for one another put a fire in me and I visualized them having sex like sweethearts rather than friends, like newlyweds, forgetting all moderation, all boundaries. I knew hey would be wild and lustful. I could see in the way they looked at one another, with a sexual hunger that was undisguised and forthright, almost as if they were declaring it openly, daring the world to object.

"Why don't you go to him," I suggested. "I can see you want to. Go fuck him," I said. She looked at me, not denying she wanted to, then she nodded, accepting my awareness, agreeing that she was thinking about it.

"You wouldn't mind?" she asked.

"I have been waiting for you to tell me you were going to do that for months." I said.

"That obvious, huh?" she said softly.

"That obvious, yes," I replied. "Have the two of you done anything yet?" I asked. She shook her head. "You want to?"

"You know the answer if it is that obvious, right?" she said with a slight grin. I simply nodded.

"So, what's going to happen?" I asked.

She shrugged. "You want a divorce?" I asked. She shook her head.

"I like being your wife," she said. "We have a lot in common. It's just... " she paused.

"I have the hots for Jake. Nothing against you."

"My bed is not as hot?" I said. Again, she shrugged.

"Not sure," she said. Finally, she said, "Could you handle that?"

"Could I handle my wife sleeping with my best friend?" She nodded. "What choice do I have?"

"You could say, no," she said.

"Would that keep you apart?" I asked. She said she thought so. "Then you'd just resent me, do it anyway, end up with a lawyer, right?"

"Maybe not," she said softly. "Probably not."

"You mean probably not with a lawyer, not resenting me, or not fucking him anyway?" I said. She looked at me for a long time, then she shrugged again.

After we talked I began to ask myself what be worse, splitting up, separating the kids, diving up our friends, or biting the bullet and tolerating a wife that was fucking somebody else? I had no answer. To break up the kids was horrendous, ending what had been an actual pleasant union between people who seemed genuinely like one another was also not pleasant. However, I didn't know if I could be a husband with a friend fucking my wife.

I knew guys who did it. Andre's wife, Carla, actually had a boyfriend who she slept with multiple times a month. Claire's sister, Melanie, actually had a girlfriend that her husband knew and liked, maybe even as he 'loved' Claire's sister.

I read about guys who shared their wife with another guy and seemed to have it workout fine. I knew some marriages were polyamorous and had three or more people in the arrangement. What the success rate of those was, I had no idea, but as high as the divorce rate is for monogamous couples maybe it wasn't any higher. Maybe it didn't matter.

Perhaps it was some do and some don't and that's just reality. Maybe it doesn't really matter. Perhaps the answer was if you could handle it, then things might work out, and if you could not cope with it then that kind of thing would not work, ever.

Should I ask Andre how he deals with it?

If he does okay, what would that say about my ability to manage an open marriage? Probably nothing, really. Maybe, however he could give me tips, pieces of advice, another person's perspective on the issue.

I decided to ask Andre how he managed. I would call him and ask him to meet me for coffee and talk it out, ask him directly.

I think he knew what was on my mind when I called him. 'You interested in somebody or is she?" he said when we sat down in the booth at the Starbucks near our home.

I took a drink of my coffee and smiled. "Claire," I said. "Other people ask you how you manage?"

"Many couples face this question at some time during their marriage," he said. "If they didn't ask, it doesn't mean they haven't. It just means maybe they were to self-conscious to ask. I tell people this: if you're not sure, don't jump off the bridge unless you are sure you can swim in the rushing current of extramarital recreation. It is for recreation. That is the first thing you have to realize. You must be able to give unconditional love to survive this kind of thing. Believe me, just saying you can is not enough. If you can't, don't. That is my advice: ask yourself how much you love her, cause if you don't love he enough it will not work. Period, end of story, for certain."

I sat trying to think of something to say, but there wasn't anything. He was right, it all depended on me. Could I do it? That was the only important question. More importantly, I just didn't know. There was no secret pill, no sage advice except not to try if you thought you could not, and I just didn't know.

I told him that I got aroused thinking about the two of them having sex. I looked at me and nodded. "Maybe you are one of us already," he said. "If her excitement turns you on then you are halfway there."

I didn't to talk to Claire about it because the decision was all mine. I had to be sure, not her. She knew she was attracted to Jake, wanted to have sex with him, but it was me who had to be sure before anything was decided. It did turn me on, so maybe Andre was right. How could I know without doing it and finding out, maybe too late. If I tried and found I could not handle it, if being turned on by it wasn't enough, then I wouldn't find out in time. Things would already be falling apart before my very eyes while I was finding out I had made a bad decision.

I could insist Claire restrain herself, remain faithful and avoid the problem, but what I wasn't sure of was if she would accept that and not get involved with Jake. Before I asked if she would accept that, I wanted to get more information on the lifestyle and make a decision for myself.

Andre had told me the lifestyle decision could be wonderful if you were the right kind of person. He told me I needed to be secure enough in my sexuality, which I am not sure how to measure. Am I the jealous type? I guess I might be, probably like most guys, which is not an encouraging detail. It did turn me on to think about, so maybe it was much about nothing.

I read an article on line about husbands who share, and I took a book out of the library on open marriage, and I found a magazine article on 'wives who have affairs and the husbands who love them.' It said there is a growing number of men who allow their wives the freedom to express their sexuality with other men.

It did not say how they managed that, it just stated the facts. After reading all I did I still didn't know anymore than I already had. I was aroused by thoughts of her fucking him, but was that enough. It became clear that I had to talk with my wife and see what she was going to do, what she had decided.

"I don't know," she said when I asked her. She sat and stared off at the ceiling. "What have you come up with?" she asked. I told her that I had found it was more common than I realized, that quite a few couples were doing it, but hadn't found how successful they were. I said I didn't know what kinds of men were able to cope with their wives extramarital affairs, but I did know that their motives varied, and some men got sexual pleasure, like me, from their wives's sexual activities.

She asked if I thought because it turned me on if that would be enough. "I don't know," I said honestly. "Maybe. Don't really know."

"How can we find out?" she asked.

"You could tell me about your past," I said. "See how I react to that." She said she was willing to try that. Are you?" she asked. "Let's try?" she said. I told her I wanted to, that I really thought the stories would turn me on. "Then I will tell you about those who came before you and see how you react," she said.

She told me about her first, Justin, and she described what he did to her, where they did it, and how it felt. She told me about Randal, her second. Each one got me hot to hear.

I started to ask for more details, to enjoy her stories. It did arouse me to hear about her sexual experiences and I was enjoying hearing them. I did feel a little uneasy, but the fact was I did like hearing about her early days fucking other men.

"Who was the biggest?" I asked.

"That would be Peter," she said. I said that would be appropriate. We both laughed.

"Sometimes I think of Peter now," she said. I asked her what she thought of doing with him. "I think of how good he felt in me," she said. Hearing that gave me an erection.

I asked what was the most outrageous thing she had ever done. "I fucked in a park with people around us," she said with a smile.

"Did you come?" I asked.

"Many times," she replied, embarrassed by her answer.

"Could I put it in you as you tell me about them?" She agreed and I was already erect.

What I realized was that we were getting to know each other better. She asked me the next night how I had reacted to hearing about her sexual history. I confessed that I had thought about them, masturbated to some of them, actually got turned on by thinking about them.

We had sex and talked afterwards about her experiences with other men. I was curious about them, interested in hearing about she her sexual history, learning about her desires and things that turned her on, what she had done, and how she had learned sexual information.

I realized it was exciting to hear about her sex life before me. Accepting that she had a sex life before me was helpful. "I think it is important that we are trying," I said.

"You're trying," she said. Many men would just say 'no way,'" she said. "You are trying to accept it. I appreciate that," she said. "I love you," she added.

"And I love you enough to try," I said.

"Why don't you tell me about yours," she said, cuddling up to me. "Who was your first?" I told her about Diane, in the family garage, and I told her about the date I ever went on, how we ended up in the backseat of a deserted car, how she had straddled me and let me slide into her. I told her about my roommates girlfriend, who came over and talked me into her boyfriend's bed.

We laughed about my sexual foibles and missteps, and we made love talking about our sexual histories. It was comfortable and perhaps the best we'd had in months. I mentioned that and she agreed. We were learning about each other, but more importantly we were learning about sex, about arousal, about ourselves, and about enjoying it together. Our sex was gentle and loving and when we finished we simply cuddled and talked.

"One thing I have learned lately is that feelings of sexual restlessness is not unusual, especially for women your age. I also have been able to see that sex is not the most important thing in the world in a marriage," I said. "If you were to be with Jake it would not destroy my life."

She was quiet as I talked, and then she kissed me. "I didn't see it coming," she said, "but when it came, it came on me in a rush, like a train wreck. I cannot say it will just go away, but being with you is the most important thing to me."

When she was finished I shocked myself by saying, "I think you should be with him when you want. Fuck him. Sex between the two of you is not the end of the world. The one thing I have found out is that I love you enough to let go of you, to let you enjoy your desires honestly. I want the two of you to feel free to have sex and know that I will be there for you here at our home. Here in our bed."

"You're sure?" she asked, holding me tight.

"I am now," I said. "I wasn't completely sure until tonight, but I see things clearer. I see what Andre was saying, how it could be good, that I need to love you enough. I know I do," I said. "I love you enough to give you space to be yourself, to fuck and tell me about it. That's what they all were saying. It may challenge me, but it is the right thing to do. I know that now," I said.

Without moving, we held each other for close to an hour, then we slept, slept in one another's arms. When I woke Claire was up and sat on the side of the bed and put her hand out. I took it. "How do you feel?" she asked.

"Liberated," I said. "I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I feel closer to the two of you, and I feel happy we have come this far," I said.

I truly did feel better. I was much more confident with the situation between Claire and Jake and me. I was pretty sure I would be able to handle things more rationally, more mature. I asked her if I could talk to them both together. I planned too tell him I hoped he would fuck Claire and be assured I was okay with it. I was feeling much more positive about the issue, and I was more comfortable than I had been about my wife having sex with my friend.

I didn't own her, that was for sure, and if I loved her unconditionally, like Andre said, then I would be able to let go of the possessiveness. Even though it excited me, I still had insecurities, but they had diminished as I learned about myself. I told them both that I was okay with their having a sexual relationship, that I would be able to handle it, and that I actually wanted it for them.

I began to feel foolish for ever feeling jealous of someone I cared about and I knew cared about me. It was true that sex was not as important in the latitude of things as I had been believing. It was not more consequential than, say, dancing close and feeling aroused by doing it with a man who was not your husband? It was not more charged and improper than kissing. Copulating is not necessarily more calamitous than other forms of affection between unmarried people.

I told them again that I was okay with they're having a sexual relationship, their fucking, and I said I actually hoped they would. I asked her if she would tell me about her times with him.

She agreed if that was what I wanted she would be honest and describe in detail what they did. However, I wanted to see them, wanted to actually be able to watch, but I did not want to ask to watch, like they were animals at the zoo or circus performers. But I did want to experience their sex, so I decided I would find a way to watch without putting them in the position to have to tell me no, to feel they had to grant me the privilege just because I asked.

I found a place outside that allowed me the chance to see into the bedroom without having them know I was watching. I wanted to see them, but I did not want to put them in the position to have to give in if they didn't want to be watched. He was to be there that night and I made plans to be ready.

To watch my wife with my friend was now all that mattered and I sat back in the dark to wait. When they came into the room, I saw them standing at the bed, his hands roaming over her nakedness, feeling her body as he kissed her, removing her clothes as they embraced. He took off her sweater, lifted her bra off her shoulders, then helped her out of her skirt, slid her panties down her legs, then he kissed each bared part of my wife before putting her on the bed and climbing over her.

When the tip of his erect member touched her lips it pushed between them and disappeared into her vagina. The sight gave me the thrill I expected and my breath went short. It was so erotic to watch them fornicate on the bed, on top of the covers, their nudity with a sheen of sweat over their bodies.

I had accepted my wife fucking my friend and the sight of it gave me a charge I couldn't deny. Seeing them made me feel good about my decision to encourage their affair, to give my blessing to their entanglement.

I watched them for perhaps forty minutes, then I left them to themselves, feeling I had watched enough to enjoy what I saw, savoring the sight of two people fucking that I cared for most in the world. As Andre had told me, I needed to love her enough to enjoy what she enjoyed, to want what she wanted, and to be thankful for what she did that made her happy. It was clear as I watched that what he did to her made her happy, and that pleased me.

I had learned that I did care about her pleasure and her personal, sexual satisfaction, and that truly did please me.