I have been married to Molly for ten years and most of that time I've fantasized about her cuckolding me by having sex with other men. Until last year it remained just a fantasy, of which I dared not speak for fear of her reaction. I had no idea what she would think, but I doubted it would be at all positive and once that genie is out of the bottle you can't put it back in and pretend it didn't happen. So I kept my guilty little secret to myself, exercising it mainly when we made love and I pretended to be watching whilst another, well hung guy gave her pussy a right pounding. Or fantasizing about her having a gang bang when I masturbated, a solitary act that most married men do far more often than is generally acknowledged.
This situation might have continued indefinitely, but I became ever more desperate to make my fantasy a reality and I knew that eventually I would have to do something about it. The watershed came last year, with the sudden realization that with careful planning I might be able to engineer a situation in which Molly was unable to resist the temptation to be unfaithful. This would have the added bonus of shifting the burden of guilt onto Molly and allowing me to take the moral high ground if necessary, but most important it would keep my fantasy secret. The question was, how would I do it?
Molly has always been a little coy when it comes to talking about which type of men she finds attractive, but on occasions has let it slip with casual remarks along the lines of "He looks fit," or even a tell-tale glance that she hopes I won't notice, but generally do. Invariably these guys are black, although that is something she would never admit. At least it was a potential chink in her armour that I might be able to exploit and gradually a plan began to form.
I worked with a great guy, who was about ten years younger than me and five younger than Molly. He was tall and slim, but muscular thanks to the number of sports he played. He had attractive features, a nice smile and I knew he liked Molly, from remarks he had made at company social events. Most important, he was black and had long dreadlocks, which was another feature that I knew would appeal to Molly if she was honest with herself.
His name was Samuel and we got along very well, with a shared passion for betting on almost anything, usually sport but often on quite random things such as how long before a pedestrian got soaked by a car driving through a huge puddle that had formed outside our office following a sudden downpour, or which one of us could eat a burger the quickest at lunch time. Samuel was therefore somewhat surprised by the nature of the latest bet that I was proposing, but nevertheless up for the challenge and determined, he assured me, to collect my fifty quid. I had just bet him that he couldn't seduce my wife and make love to her.
The ideal opportunity to prove his worth was conveniently happening the following week, when the firm's annual dinner dance was being held at a posh hotel about thirty miles away. We had all booked rooms so that nobody had to drive and our room was next to Samuel's. He had just ended a long term relationship and would be alone. On the evening I made sure that Samuel sat at our table along with several other couples and the conversation became increasingly lively in proportion to the amount of wine consumed. Molly was very complimentary to Samuel about how smart he looked in his dinner jacket and assured him that he wouldn't be single for long. She didn't know it, but I could spot the tell-tale signs!
When the band played I had the first and second dances with Molly, then suggested she had the next one with Samuel, as he didn't have a partner of his own. When they returned to the table I announced that I was feeling unwell and was going to our room to rest. Molly immediately offered to come with me, but I protested that I didn't want to ruin her evening as well and said I was sure that Samuel would look after her. She hesitated for a moment, then agreed to stay and said she hoped I would soon feel better.
I had never felt better and lay on the bed, my heart pounding with excitement and apprehension, realizing that I was on the brink of making my fantasy come true if the rest of the evening went to plan. Downstairs in the ballroom Molly was literally swept off her feet by her new debonair dance partner, who surprised her with his cultured prowess at the waltz, foxtrot and quickstep, not something she was used to with me! She started to feel a real buzz of excitement every time their bodies came in contact as demanded by the music.
She was mortified when an involuntary damp patch wicked its way through her underwear into her dress, praying that Samuel wouldn't notice, which of course he did but was far too much of a gentleman to let on. She struggled to supress her shameful thoughts and felt strong pangs of guilt for her sick husband, all alone in their room. There was no doubt that she was in an emotional turmoil, the likes of which she had never experienced before, and Samuel sensed this, growing ever confident of collecting his fifty pounds and the far, far greater prize of finally bedding the woman he had secretly lusted after for years.
At last the evening drew to a close and the time came for the guests to make their way to their rooms. Whilst Molly was distracted, bidding goodnight to some fellow revellers, Samuel quickly texted me the pre-arranged signal; the game was on! Without delay I moved into his unlocked room and hid as arranged in the wardrobe, which rather conveniently had slatted doors through which the proceedings could be clearly observed. I couldn't help wondering if hotel furniture was designed specifically with this in mind! Of course, Samuel's final gambit might not succeed and Molly could easily reject his advances. If she insisted in going to my room, the plan was simply that I would return a short time later with the excuse that I had been out to get some air.
In the corridor I could hear their muffled voices. "Will you join me for a nightcap?" asked Samuel. "No thank you, I had better check on poor John," replied Molly with a hint of reluctance. "He's probably asleep and would prefer not to be disturbed," ventured Samuel. "I guess it will be okay for a little while," conceded Molly, allowing him to take her arm.
