I Wanted Her To Do It

This story happened in the early 1990's. My wife Rachel and I married young. We'd known each other our entire life. We didn't attend the same school, but our parents were members of the same church and took it seriously. Our social life seemed to revolve around the congregation, so Rachel and I grew up together. She was good looking and she intrigued me, but we were teenagers and so did many other girls.

I went to college a few hours away while Rachel stayed in our hometown playing volleyball for our hometown university. She was a year behind me. We reconnected the summer between my Junior and Senior year. She was one of those girls whose "hotness" went off the charts after high school. She became a woman, in every sense of the word. Beautiful hair, sultry eyes that seemed almost mysterious, and an an athletic body to die for with wide hips and powerful legs. She was a little shorter than me, but taller than your average girls at around 5 foot 10, and I'm guessing because of her muscle and height she weighed about 140 or so but I didn't dare ask. She tanned easily and was partial to gold necklaces and earrings.

On our first real date I'd returned her home from a long day at the zoo. We kissed in her bedroom, and I caressed her breasts. Her bosom was soft and inviting. Terrified her parents would discover us, we fled for a car-based makeout session, parking by the train tracks on an old dirt road in the country. A freight train came through and the next thing I know her shirt and bra are in the backseat, my lips nibbling her sweet, large nipples.

Rachel's legs rested at crazy angles on the dashboard, the seatback pushed all the way down. I still remember the little details, how we unzipped her jeans and wiggled them down just far enough to give me access. She breathed heavily as my hand slid under her panties, combing through her pubic hair until I touched her labia which rolled between my fingertips. I remember how I tried to massage her clit, not knowing exactly where it was, and how absolutely warm and slick my middle finger felt as it slid into her. She buckled and yelped as I thrust my fingers in, my hand exhausted by the time she came. I was naive, kept going, until she gently pulled my hand away from her.

The radio on, Rachel jacked me off in the dark to the Red Hot Chili Peppers. I surreptitiously smelled the fingers that had been in her. It smelled like pussy, sweaty and dank, not pungent, but not roses either. I grunted and came, cum splashing on my jeans.

I was in love.

That last year of school was tough. I was able to attend a couple of her volleyball games. I admired Rachel, proud to have such an athletic and talented girlfriend. She prowled the floor in her tight uniform, her nipples fairly obvious, the curve of her shorts hugging her ass and crotch.

But our long distance relationship suffered. These were the days before email and cell phones. We exchanged mail like pen pals and I called once a month. In March I got a heartfelt letter that she'd been seeing somebody named Chad, a fellow student, and wanted me to know before I heard it on the grapevine. I was stunned and picked up the phone, but nobody answered.

That night I lay in bed thinking about Rachel. I pulled out a Hustler magazine I kept stashed against the wall by my bed and tried to rub one out. I had mixed emotions. How could she betray me? But another side of me imagined her being kissed and caressed by this son of a bitch Chad.

I lay back, just me in a tee-shirt stroking myself in bed, and closed my eyes. I pictured Rachel on all fours in her childhood bedroom getting railed. I felt my orgasm start and drove it home. When I came, a powerful spurt of hot white sperm roped high above me and seemed to hang in the air before falling and splashing on an open page in the magazine. I rarely came that hard while masturbating. I wiped the page, amazed at the quality of my arousal.

I lay back more frustrated than ever, angry at Rachel. I spent hours planning a long distance phone call to her, plotted clever speeches designed to humiliate and shame her into choosing me. I knew it was futile. My mind wandered in erotic directions and I ended up masturbating three more times. The rim of my cock head hurt when I came the last time. I fell asleep around 2 in the morning.

I woke up nervous at 7:30, barely eating. It was too early to call, so I gathered my school supplies and went to class. Throughout the lecture I couldn't focus. The professor wrote a list of items on an overhead and I just gave up, endeavoring to at least concentrate on his words. Never was I so thankful when class ended.

I rushed back to my apartment. My hands shook as I dialed. My voice cracked as I said hello. It wasn't supposed to be like this. The conversation started awkwardly. I'd resolved to play the cool and aloof guy but I knew it sounded fake. Rachel wanted to see him. I told her that was fine, I hope she didn't mind if I saw other people. In reality there was nobody serious lined up. She apologized, told me she didn't mean to hurt me.

The gist of it was this wasn't a one night stand. She still wanted to see me but was confused. It was all so very typical and I almost hung up on her in frustration.

Almost as an afterthought I asked her, "Did you sleep with him?"

"Why do you want to know that?" she answered. She didn't deny it.

"Just curious is all, no big deal" I answered as nonchalantly as possible. She'd confessed to me last summer she was still a virgin, and wanted to save herself for marriage. My penis stirred, waiting for the answer.

Rachel paused a moment, "Yes."

My cock throbbed in my pants. The traitorous bastard.

We said our goodbyes. I felt horrible. I'd lost my Rachel. She was special and some cocksman had taken her. I cried in my apartment. Raw rage permeated my soul but there was something else. I had this new erotic component that didn't exist prior. I was the victim of a cuckold mindfuck, my sexual brain rewiring itself to dull the pain.

I took a shower and had to fight myself to keep from whacking off. I deliberately applied shampoo, soaped, and rinsed. My erect dick clowned me, sticking out like a salami as I dressed. I fought it, stuffed it down my pants, and walked to the university library, precum on my leg as I sat down to study. I finally gave up and jacked off in a school bathroom. Immature and naive, I prayed some homo wouldn't come in, discover me and get the wrong idea.

The weeks passed, and I did my best to fight off the urges but my masturbation focused on her infidelity as the center of the fantasy. It seemed like it wasn't even my choice, although I considered putting it out of my head. I just couldn't.

And with that I did my best to soldier on with my studies. Imagine my relief when I got a call from Rachel two months later, confirming that she'd broken up with Chad, or as I called him, Stud McStuds. I invited her to my graduation, and she happily accepted. She came with my parents, who were pleased as punch that I was interested in such a seemingly quality girfriend. My mom took me to the side and said I needed to hold on to her. She was a family friend, a churchgoer with good morals. She even taught bible class to the first and second graders. I was sort of embarrassed at the speech, but silently laughed at the ironies involved. Miss perfect, sure.

Truly our relationship was fantastic. I moved back to my hometown, got a decent job in accounting. Rachel still lived at her parent's house. I also got an apartment and although her parents didn't want us shacking up, they tolerated the occasional sleepover at my place. We were adults, not teenagers.

The first night she spent at my place was the first time we had sex. Up late after watching television we curled up in bed and I'd asked Rachel to tell me how she had been seduced. It was a question bursting to be asked. She hemmed and hawed, but I prodded until she opened up.

She'd gone to a birthday party of a teammate. There was some drinking, which she didn't normally do. Late in the evening the stragglers gathered around to watch a movie in the basement. It was a pretty big house with a "finished basement" for entertainment. It had a kitchenette, an entertainment room with a pool table, couches and a widescreen TV, as well as a couple of bedrooms.

She had chatted with Chad and he seemed interesting. He played baseball for her school, so as student athletes they had much in common.

There weren't enough sofas and chairs for everybody, so she and Chad sat on the floor with blankets and a couple of pillows. They watched a videotape of "Platoon", which is hardly conducive to romance, but it was dark, the feeling of human touch stirred them and they bonded, holding hands. Near the end of the movie he reached down and rubbed her privates beneath the blanket.

Chad nuzzled her neck and she knew. They picked a bedroom, shut the door and locked it. On the bed she pulled off her pants and his hand went between her legs. She made a point of telling me he had big hands and his fingers felt good. It was too much to resist.

He pushed her down and unbuckled his pants. She saw him naked and she gave in. He deflowered her. She bled and it shamed and scared her, so much so that she smuggled the offending sheets out of the house the next morning and tossed them in a dumpster. No she hadn't used a condom. That had been stupid.

He called her the next week and before she knew it, they were seriously dating.

As she finished telling me her story, I attacked her. I told her I wanted to be her new Chad and she laughed and gave me permission.

"Does that story really make you so excited?" she asked, amazed, "I thought you'd hate it."

"So did I until it didn't. I had to know. You can always tell me stories like that," I answered.

"Well I doubt there will be any more stories like that," she said.

I peeled off her clothes and pulled a brand new box of condoms out of the bedstand. Now it was my turn. She helped roll one onto me, she now had experience with it. We groped each other until I put it into her. It was exquisite. She was snug and said it hurt so I put KY on it. I made love to the woman I loved so dearly, the mother of my future children.

Two weeks later Rachel spent the night again. Again I brought up Chad and she told me doggy style was his favorite position. My cock buzzed. Again, she helped roll the condom on, then assumed the position. I cannot overemphasize how turned on I was.

Rachel arched her back, sleek as a panther in heat. Her pronounced labia puffed out among a mass of dark blonde pubic hair. "Did he fuck you like this?" I said, intending to plunge my cock into her like a champion. It was comical. My latex covered cock head rubbed up and down her pussy slit searching for the weak point. I accidently thrust it against her anus and she yelped, reaching back to place it in the right spot and told me to push.

I entered her. "Finally," Rachel moaned. She cried out in erotic pain. "Fuck me. Fuck me like Chad."

That was probably the wrong thing to say. I came in under a minute.

Rachel was bewildered and frustrated, but patient with me. I took off the wet condom, she bent over and took my limp cum covered cock in her mouth. Five minutes later it was hard again. We rolled on another condom, she bent over and we made love. I had no problems staying hard, and she was loosened up, telling me to fuck her harder and deeper. I did my best and afterward we cuddled and kissed. "Did you cum?" I asked.

"I think so," she said, and that hurt because I wanted to impress her. Nobody thinks they'll be a sexual flop. I wanted to be the stud. I decided to try oral sex.

Rachel smiled as I made my way down, kissing her shoulders, her breast, her stomach. I caressed her body as my lips and tongue traced circles in her pubic hair. She pressed her clit into my lips as I ate her out. "Yes," she cried out, breathing sharply. I didn't stop until she convulsed in obvious joy. My jaw and tongue ached.

I was proud. She made me wash out my mouth before she let me kiss her, then we cuddled and talked. I asked her if Chad had made her cum when he fucked her. "Yes," she mentioned. "He was a little deeper. But you are great honey."

I had my doubts. By my scorecard Chad was the better fucker. Heck, he was the better finger-fucker if that's even a word. But I was good at giving oral sex. Did he have to even bother?

Now, I'm probably painting a sexually bleak picture. Let me make clear this isn't really the case. I'm detailing how seeds were sown that would later bear fruit.

This was only the beginning of our journey of discovery. Rachel and I lusted after each other. We explored each other's bodies. We fucked and sucked and got better at it. We did it in new and interesting places, including both our parent's bedrooms, the church's administrative office, in a spare room at my work, and in a rented motorboat while on vacation at a family friend's lake house. We were sexual rebels.

By the end of that summer, I'd asked her to marry me. She cried with joy. We decided to wait until she graduated and have a ceremony in July of the coming year. Our life plan was simple; get married, she get her real estate license, have a bunch of babies, go to church, grow old happy, the end.

Rachel started her senior year and I attended all her home games. I now had money to spend on her. I bought her gifts, clothes and jewelry. We had a level of freedom untasted before.

Just for fun we returned to the scene of two crimes. I fucked her in back of my new SUV parked by the railroad tracks where we spent our first real date. That was nostalgic. I also fucked her in the bed where Chad had first fucked her the year prior. That changed our lives.

It was almost exactly a year after she first cheated on me. Rachel was again invited back to celebrate the same girl's birthday! Imagine how I felt when I finally met Chad in the kitchen. Rachel introduced me. We knew he might attend but I told Rachel I didn't mind.

Seeing them interact, that was tricky. He hugged her. He sat up close to her on the couch. The two of them chatted and I sat back just observing, examining my mixed feelings. On the one hand, I was glad I got the girl. On the other hand, my mind played scenarios where she would sneak off with him and tell me about it later. It was an epiphany. I realized I wanted it to happen. I accepted it.

I played a dangerous game. Rachel would occasionally seek me out and acknowledge me. She asked if I minded her speaking with him, and I said no. Imagine my angst as he hogged her attention. I didn't know if I should step in. I had no desire to be humiliated or provoked into a fight.

Eventually I couldn't take it anymore, so I pulled Rachel to the side and asked her to come downstairs. She followed and we found the bedroom where the deed was done. I held her hand and pulled her inside. I kissed her and pushed her onto the bed. I told her to take off her panties and hike up her skirt. I didn't bother with a condom. She lay spread eagle and as I penetrated her that I pictured her as she'd been a few minutes earlier, upstairs talking with Chad.

"Seeing you with him turned me on," I said.

She just closed her eyes, breathing heavily. "Really?"

"I can't help it," I said.

We finished in under two minutes, worried somebody would come downstairs and discover us. This lovemaking session was more meaningful than a regular quickie. I'd confessed a feeling I'd bottled up for almost a year. I pulled out and came in her panties. I tucked them into my coat pocket.

As I wiped my cock clean, a black cloud descended upon me. I had second thoughts about voicing my confession. I loved Rachel, and at that moment I didn't want to share her with anybody. She scurried out of the room to clean up and I waited for her. I resolved to tell her I was sorry. She didn't come back after a few minutes. I went upstairs and she was chatting with Chad again.

At first I was angry, but Rachel just winked at me when we made eye contact. I left them alone and mingled. She found me chatting with some other teammates a half hour later. She whispered in my ear that he invited her to leave the party with him. I gulped as I heard that.

I replied, "Are you just telling me or asking for permission?"

"I'm so ready. You need to take me home now," she said.

We drove a few blocks in silence, her fondling my hard cock through my jeans as I drove. I reached over and she pulled her dress up so I could rub her bare crotch. It was incredibly warm and a little damp. I opened my big mouth and said, "If you ever want to have sex with him again, you can."

"Why?" she answered. "That's crazy."

"I dunno. You seemed to really enjoy it with him. I think we both know he fucked you better. I kinda enjoy the thought, in a kinky sort of way."

"WOW" She exclaimed. We drove in silence as I pulled up to her parent's home. Even I couldn't believe I'd opened that can of worms. I was about to apologize and she leaned over and started kissing me, reaching down to massage my hard cock that struggled inside my jeans. I scooted back and unzipped my pants.

"You will be such a great hubby," she whispered in my ear and she went down to suck me off.

I gasped as she mouthfucked the tip. I said, "But nobody else, no fucking way, only Chad." She didn't respond except to continue sucking me, this time going deep.

I stopped her and insisted we kiss, tasting myself on her lips. I pushed her back onto her seat. The windows were already fogging.

I fingered her and she panted.

"Imagine this is Chad," I said.

"I can't, I love you." She was breathing heavily.

"But you want to?"'

She paused, "Yes."

"Imagine you left the party with him, with my permission."

Rachel's breathing quickened as I finger fucked her. She squeezed her legs together around my hand. She blurted out, "Shut up, just shut up," and she grabbed my hand holding it tight to her groin as a powerful orgasm enveloped her body.

When she recovered she reached out for my cock again. This time I sat back, and she took me in her mouth. I imagined it was Chad's cock she sucked. It didn't take long before I squirted down her throat. Immediately I had regrets, and felt the black cloud return. My desire to share her disappeared as soon as I came.

We said we loved each other, and she exited the car. Feeling ambivalent, I dwelled on how easily I'd asked her to cheat and her pleasurable response.

That night I tossed and turned, a rollercoaster of emotion. Around 3 am I jacked myself off to relieve that mental stress. I desperately wanted to be with her, to talk to her, but I couldn't call her because it would wake her parents.

The next day was a Saturday, and I didn't hear from her. I called and her parents said she'd told them she was studying with friends on campus. That happened occasionally, but usually on weekdays. By the time I turned in that evening, I'd still heard nothing from her and was worried. Worried and excited.

The next morning I dressed, and as usual for Sundays, met Rachel at Church. I was incredibly relieved to see her. She smiled and snuck a kiss. I didn't dare bring up current events as we milled about with family and friends before the service.

The pastor gave a sermon on "Thinking Like Christ." The themes were general, but I felt like he was staring at me, lecturing me. I told myself that either I was being paranoid, or God was calling me that day. She reached out and held my hand, tightly, as the preacher spoke. This wasn't normal. My mind assumed it had to be bad.

After the service, I went to adult bible study and Rachel taught the kids. I agonized. When that finished, I offered to drive her to lunch, but she insisted we go to my apartment. As we pulled out of the church parking lot, I commented on the sermon, how I felt like he was speaking directly to us. She just reached out and took my hand again.