I jokingly call her Oral Annie, although her name is Claire and she is my wife.
She is a sexual dynamo and loves anything oral: giving, getting, or watching other people do it.
I have never know a woman before who like to watch porn. There really is nothing to complain about, and most men would sell their souls for a week of being me.
To have a wife who loves porn, desires sex daily, and is an oral aficionado would be enough for most men, and the truth is also that she is simply a delight to the eyes and I do give thanks everyday that she is my wife.
So what's the complaint?
It is really not so much a complaint, as it is a statement of fact and then a question.
So, right before we were to start Netflix binging, she announced that she liked oral so much that she wanted to share the wealth.
She wanted to open up our marriage and announced she thought we should bring in some other people to our boudoir.
I have not been totally against this, in principle, but when the reality was staring me in the face it becomes another story.
I have fantasized, of course, like most men, about wife sharing, but it was a fantasy not a desire to actually have it happen. To think of it is one thing, to do it is completely another thing.
So the big talker gets what he deserves?
Yeah, sort of that.
When she introduced me to her prospective lover, a man she had met at a business conference, I began to worry and realize that she was deadly serious.
He was tall, and handsome, and he had a confidence about him that scared the shit out of me.
His name is Winston and he is a lawyer, makes a six figure income, and he is scarily successful.
Not only that, but he is known as a pussy hound and has broken up a number of marriages by what I am told by men who have suffered from his sexual charms.
Oral Annie had met him at the business convention in New York and immediately fell under the power of his sexual spell.
Because she had told me about her plan, her wish to open things up, she felt comfortable about introducing him when she returned home and had him over.
I figured by his height and the measure of the gloves he was wearing that other sizes of body parts were proportional.
It scared me to think of her in bed with him even once.
I was sure women, including my wife, consider him sexually attractive and were hot to fuck him.
Horny housewives who would eagerly offer their pussies for a chance in the sack with Winston.
After the first time I saw them together it petrified me.
That night she asked me what I thought.
It scared me to tell her the truth.
I hesitated, then I blundered ahead.
"Seeing you together was the sexiest thing I have ever seen," I said.
"Just seeing you next to him was sexy," I told her.
"It literally scared the crap out of me.
You look like you fit together like a complex puzzle.
Your just standing beside him talking to him is as sexy as a porn film," I said.
"You want the truth, and that is the truth, that he frightens me, just seeing him in the same room with you," I said honestly, "makes me get nervous. I think he is going to fuck you right in front of me."
She said I had no reason to be nervous, but her saying that didn't reduce my anxiety.
We stood without talking for a while, then she asked the question I had been dreading.
"So you would not like it if I fucked him?"
There it was.
The question I had been expecting and fearing for days.
I figured it would be more of an announcement than a question, more of a 'we're going to do this' than a 'can we.'
At least it was a request, not a declaration.
Once I saw my wife with him I knew it was inevitable.
They just went together, like I said, like a set of fine China and an expensive table.
They genuinely seem to be made for each other.
They were sex objects cast to be used as a set.
It seemed almost a crime to keep them apart.
