A Loving Wife's Story

This is a female voice novel of 14 chapters. Some are short, some are long. All stand more or less alone, but the reader will enjoy them best in sequence. This is an emotional and psychological study of erotic impulse and sexual expression.

*****

"I met an interesting man today."

Those six words had the effect I thought they would. Any husband's ears would perk up if he heard his wife say that. A wife finding another man "interesting," in any context or for any reason, produces a swell of ramifications that can drench a husband. Make him flinch with a spasm of attention, alertness, make a thousand questions flash in his mind. That would be true for the most innocent of married couples. Jamie and I had lost our innocence. Or, I should say, we were on the home stretch of a deliberate journey to do so. The interesting man I met today was a coy introduction of our latest man in a line I had presented to my husband, in a mental, fantasy, erotic format which had ignited an extremely exciting new sexual world for both of us. I had spoken those six words with perfect feminine deliberation, timing the silence in our casual conversation the perfect length, my voice tone and pitch perfectly modulated, with a slight ring of surprise and a slightly stronger residual of perky interest. "I met an interesting man today."

"Oh?" Jamie said, nonchalantly. "What sort of interesting man?"

We had loaded the dishwasher and were cleaning stove and counter tops after supper. Jamie's reaction to my six words contained a zap of erotic electricity buzzing through him. I saw his eyes widen, his breath held in for a moment, as the buzz went to his store of experience gained over a year or more. I felt my chest flush, my pussy tingle, and a fat smile of offering spread on my face.

How to present my offering? Or the idea of it, I should say. We had played with the idea of my meeting a man ("interesting" of course, handsome and sexy and magnetic assumed) in daring discussions in intense intimacy. An intimacy gained by accident that led to exploration, revelation, discovery of inner core components that stunned, liberated, ravished us both. A ravishing erotic thrill my husband and I shared as one. Shared when we wanted, when the stars were aligned and the urge compelling. Sharing and watching that compelling urge grow by its on volition to present the idea: Isn't this the next logical step? Do we dare? Can you allow it? Can I do it? Would it ravish us with an experience more exciting than all the one's before?

My life was perfect. That quarter I was scheduled to teach six classes a week, Two in the mornings and one on afternoons. The students seemed bright enough. The Dean and faculty colleagues were easy to work with. My darling husband Jamie's accounting business was doing great; he had added four more CPA's to his firm, and, well, "prosperity" was an understatement. My marriage was ideal. My husband a very satisfying lover and wholly devoted to me. My health was robust. The day I met my interesting man, I had two hours before my next class. I closed my office and went to the Student Union for a cup of tea. It was crowded with students. Every year they look younger and younger to me. I didn't see an empty table, so I excused myself to join a male student sitting alone.

"Crowded in here."

"Very crowded." He said. "That chair is empty and I'm happy to have you join me."

What a nice smile! He was a student, obviously, but not a young one. He was a man, and a good looking one too. I guessed him to be a little younger than me. Twenty eight to thirty, I thought. I smoothed my dress under, aware of my hands modeling my ass, as I sat in the plastic chair.

"If you're happy, I'm happy." I said, with a smile to mate with his.

It can happen that way. Something clicks, instantly. Chemistry, pheromones, something, instantly. I took him all in, instantly. Handsome man, athletic looking, warm and friendly eyes, chiseled facial features of brow, nose, lips, chin. His hair was neatly cut. "Corporate mandate short," I thought. Muscular arms in a stripped polo shirt. Strong looking hands with long and sensitive fingers, I thought, all in an instant.

"Are you a student here?" I asked.

"Part time. Just this quarter. Auditing courses in marketing at the Business College. My company's requirement, their expense."

He lived in a neighboring State, holed up in a simple apartment agreeable to transients and not requiring a lease. He drove home every week end. He was married. All this information he gave in a relaxed manner of confident conversational flow with a strange woman who was happy to join him.

"Are you a student?"

"I'm on the faculty. Professor of English Literature." I said, and held out my hand. "Sondra Andrews."

"My pleasure, Ms. Andrews."

"Please. Sondra. I'm also Doctor Andrews. And please, don't ever use that title either."

He laughed. "Sondra it is. And I am Dennis Cantrell."

We talked lightly, easily, about his courses and his job and living part time in our city, away from his wife and children. He asked about my rewards for being a professor of English Literature. We both made steady eye contact. I caught my finger in my hair, twirling a strand, as I looked into his eyes and listened to him speak. I caught him giving exquisitely sneaky glances at my boobs nestled under my dress. In less than twenty minutes we were flirting, Attracted sex appeal was strutting its stuff. A handsome married man. I, a married woman with wedding rings sparkling in plain view. Those rush feelings of naughtiness and tingling excitement rising up, so much like the excitement of telling Jamie my stories.

We had finished tidying up the kitchen. Jamie said, "I imagine a lot of companies send employees there for enhancement training." I knew he was skirting around the edges of my story, looking in from the outside, getting a measure of the volatility.

"I imagine so. Dennis is the first one I've met."

"I like the serendipity sound of the meeting."

"The very best kind. Unsought, unplanned, filled with promise."

Jamie stopped skirting around the edges. He put his arms around me and looked into my eyes. "Is he...Are you taking what we talked about to the next level?"

"I'm not taking anything anywhere, honey. I just met an interesting man today and thought you should know."

"Oh. Okay. It wasn't that long ago we were juggling ideas of you going out for new story material. That's fresh on my mind."

"And fresh on mine as well. But this Dennis is just a coincidence, for now. A very nice coincidence I must say. He is certainly a man for me to consider. From all those instant signals of appearance and personality."

"You really want to go through with this, don't you?"

"We both know it is the next step for us. We have rehearsed taking this step. It would be as much for you as for me. That is settled, that is fixed."

We walked to our bedroom with our arms around each other. We slowly undressed, welcoming that special excitement that had consumed us before, now set free again. The possibility that I might fuck another man, with my husbands permission and unreserved support. A marital intimacy unlike any other. Our marriage unlike any other I knew about. My husband unlike any other husband I knew of.

Jamie is the most gorgeous man on earth. He is tall and slender and intensely masculine. But he is so impeccably groomed I thought he might be gay when I first met him. He most certainly, definitely is not. His neatly cut black hair parted on the side already has some salt dust at the temples. His body has no loose padding. He is a warm, gentle, kind, embracing man in all his daily interactions, and also in bed. That night, the serendipity and nascent possibility of Dennis Cantrell stirred his loins with additional vigor. We did not mention his name or the meeting, but he fucked me with extra energy, long hard thrusts that made me whimper and then wail in joyful surrender.

The next morning I pranced about in my short silk robe that set off my legs, and fixed us a hearty breakfast while Jamie showered. He came into the kitchen, impeccably groomed as always. His expensive suit a perfect fit. My hair was a rats nest and I looked slatternly by comparison, I had no doubt.

"Good morning, handsome. That sure was a splendid fuck you gave me last night."

"Maybe I was inspired. You think?"

"I'm all for inspiration. May it build and build. And perhaps it just might," I concluded, with a lewd wink. He smiled that smile that has melted my heart a million times.

After Jamie left for work, I went to the bath room to take stock of myself. Actually, my rats nest hair was one of my best attributes. When I brush it fifty strokes it has natural wave down to just below my shoulders. The color is unusual, by remarks I have heard all my life. Depending on how light strikes, my hair is gold, sandy, brown, with a touch of carrot red.

I took off the robe to study my body. I am five foot eight inches tall, and I have been called "willowy" by some female friends. Slender by others. My shoulders seem broad, as do my hips. My ass has enlarged some, of course, but the fuller curves still have resilient solidity. My legs are my best feature, long and very nicely proportioned all the way down to trim ankles. I am admittedly vain about them. Though my thighs are admittedly getting rounder and larger. I am not over loaded with freckles, but there is good scatter all over, the majority above my waist line for some crazy biological reason. My nose and cheeks are freckled. So are my breasts. My breasts are of average size and shape, I suppose, and they sit proudly on my rib cage. They move in the allowance of weight and gravity laws, and no more than that. There is no droop. I like them, a lot. Jamie loves them, a lot, and loves to suckle them and please me. My eyes are blue. My lips are a treasure to Jamie. A bit puffy large - mobile plasticity, Jamie says, made for sweet kissing, to fold under and out when they circle his cock and slide up and down. Jamie says "Sondra" is a name perfectly fitting to my blue eyes and willowy body, in a pastel summer dress, at a party on some lawn with tents and a buffet. Jamie can be quite poetic. He is my love and my life.

I showered and brushed my hair fifty strokes. I laid on our bed, still holding barely detectable meaty scents of our wonderful fuck the night before, and my thoughts drifted to Dennis Cantrell. A possibility indeed. Maybe. Who knows? There was much I had to learn about him first. A sparkling courtship, a.k.a. seduction. Jamie had joined the complicity last night. Though our discussion was sparse, cryptic, coded, there was mutual understanding "the idea" was back with us, teasing and tantalizing. Had the time come? Was I ready? I was ready. Was Jamie? He was on the edge. I knew that. He might need a nudge, or a hearty push to send him over the edge. I fingered my cunt slit and clit. Seeing Jamie fall. Seeing me in full bore seduction of that Dennis Cantrell, arranging, constructing paths of convergence, contact, collecting the kindling to light our fires of sexual desire and dance among the flames. I brought myself to orgasm and knew in that blissful clutch the time had come. The idea was ready to bear fruit. Dennis Cantrell would be the one to conduct my husband and I to the next step for our ultra special capacities to expand in larger experience, to see, feel and know. I thought back to the beginning, what these ultra special capacities were that my husband and I had, and how we had discovered them.

******

We were out one night in the car, I can't remember doing what, and rounded a curve that gave a view of a motel on a not far distant hill side. The Red Rooster Inn. It was something of a land mark in our city, the only building on the hill side, facing east, with the silhouette rooster on the roof presumably crowing every sunrise. It was eye catching because it suddenly loomed into view as motorists rounded the curve toward it. Jamie said it was a bit seedy now, now owned by the Patels, of the East Indian Patel family of fifty million members, which now owned ninety percent of all motels in the U.S.A. I laughed at that, then out of the blue, with no idea why I said it, I said, "I got fucked in that motel one time."

That took Jamie's breath for a moment. "Did you indeed? Not recently, I hope."

"Long ago, before we ever met. I was a mere girl."

"I would like to hear more about that."

"Perhaps I will tell you sometime. Maybe later tonight?"

Funny, when I said that we had little else to say most of the ride home. I went back in memory to that afternoon in a Red Rooster room, a rousing memory of learning pleasure. Many vivid snap shots of those hours doing a slide show in my mind. It suddenly occurred to me Jamie was doing exactly the same thing. Conjuring up vivid images in his mind of his wife, a mere girl back then, getting fucked in that motel. What he was no doubt fantasying gave me a sudden rush of erotic thrill even greater than my own memories.

We had been married five years. Sex was open and wonderful for us, and we never let the flame of passion get very low. But we had never discussed past experiences. We both had several lovers before we met. We both knew enough, and that was evident the first time we made love. But we never had the inclination, maybe not even the curiosity, to question each other in much detail about previous partners. I had him. He had me. History was irrelevant. Our sexual bliss was all that mattered, and we had that. I have no idea what prompted me to say, "I got fucked in that motel one time." It certainly wasn't boredom.

We went to bed naked that night, as we did every night during the summer. I had brushed my hair fifty strokes, and I knew the dim night light from the window would cast it in a gold silvery color that so entrances Jamie when it is spread on my pillow and strands trail down toward my breasts. With every stroke of that brush, I was thinking of my willingness to tell Jamie about my getting fucked in that now seedy motel, and wondering how much he really wanted to hear?

He put his arms around me and kissed me. I love the smell of him. All his natural smells. The scent of man. The angular manliness of muscles and bones long and strong against me.

"Just a mere girl." He said. "Who got fucked in the Red Rooster Inn."

"Eighteen years old. A bit on the wild side by then."

"Who was the boy?"

"The boy was a man. A friend of my father. Not nearly as old as my father. But he was much older than me."

"I see." Jamie said, after a stretched pause, not sure what he was seeing.

"It might sound a sordid tale. Sure you want to hear it?"

"I can do sordid."

"His name was Ken and he was married. He might have been early thirties, but at my eighteen that was old. He was a golf playing friend of my father, and I met him on numerous occasions during high school. He was always nice and friendly and charming. I thought he was sexy and damn good looking, but during those hormone laced days I thought so many males were sexy. He suddenly noticed little Sondra had grown into a willowy, full blown young lady. He couldn't hide his notice. Casual hand touches that lingered, eye contact, bold flirting when we were separated from the crowd. I was flattered, intrigued, aroused. I responded to him. That first kiss he stole when we were absolutely alone. All this spread out over almost a year. The question, the challenge, the dare, he knew just the place to take us to be alone. I said yes, I wanted to do it."

Jamie's cock had sprung up to full length and girth while I spoke. It was hard as steel. I took it lightly in my fingers and felt the heat and throb. His breathing was shallow and constricted as he listened to my story. He was terribly excited. And so was I.

"The Red Rooster Inn. At three in the afternoon. A mature man and his eighteen year old piece of ass. We got right to it." Jamie's cock throbbed beneath my fingers and swelled even larger.

"What was he like?"

"Not like the boys I had known. He was bigger and heavier, body shape wise. Hairy chest and legs. He was totally confident. He was married and had a lot of practice, of course. He took his time. He loved the freckles on my chest. He licked and kissed them." Jamie made a moan sound from his nose. His eyes were closed. "Here," I said, "I want to feel your mouth." He supported himself on his elbow at my side, and sucked my left nipple into his mouth. His left hand reached to play with my right breast. The wonderful sweet pleasure spread all over my chest, and went down to my clit, where the fingers of my right hand went too. His cock wrapped in my left hand was very big and hot.

"My memories of that experience are a bit fuddled. A lot happened to me. It was long ago."

"Concentrate." Jamie said. "They will come back."

When he said that, I felt a rush of sexual excitement the likes of which I had never had before. Jamie was involved in my experience of that long ago afternoon. Fully sharing it with me. I was right, he had taken a fantasy trip during our mostly silent travel back home. He was eager to hear. No jealousy or any other negative feelings. That was clear. He was experiencing his own totally new rush of sexual excitement, his rush combining with mine. That was clear. I was leading him - I knew not exactly where. He wanted me to lead him. That was clear. My fingers rubbed my clit. The rush grew stronger.

"I remember sitting in the car while he went into the office to rent the room. I felt so grown up, so daring. My first real man. A married man at that. I felt wicked, and so excited I could barely breathe. My pussy juice was already soaking my panties."

Jamie's mouth was doing its magic on my nipple, his fingers feather dusting, pulling, pinching the other one. Sweet but strong and vibrant pleasures. Jamie magic.

"He made love to my breasts with his mouth and fingers, just as you are now doing to me."

Jamie made a moan. It was a husband moan, containing a quality of helpless depth that is impossible to put into words, but it was a communication to me that seared my mind with meaning and importance. It was a moan of identifying, Ken's mouth and fingers once doing to me what Jamie now did, and my breasts feeling the same pleasure from Ken that I now felt from Jamie. It was a moan I would hear many times in the course of our marriage. It was an extremely precious sound to me.

"I deep throated him. I had sucked cock before, but that after noon with him in that motel room, feeling daring and wicked, I sucked him with more abandon than I had ever sucked boys before. Opened wider, challenging myself to take it deeper. Drooling on his hard cock. Gagging some, but keeping on."

"Did he have a big one?"

"Average, I would say. Bigger than most of the boys I had before. Or maybe it just seemed that way that day. A new one for me. He was probably about your size. Somewhere in the ball park. I really can't remember. What I do clearly remember is for the first time I didn't suck cock as a favor to the guy. I really got into it. The full experience of it. The smell, taste, texture of silky skin on that hard cylinder of meat. Man meat, man cock. Filling my mouth full. Slobbering and licking and stretching my lips wide to suck up and down. Really giving a blow job to that man who was only an acquaintance, really, and loving to do it. You could call it my first day of training to love cock sucking."

"Lucky me." Jamie slurred. "I know you love sucking mine."

"With all my heart and soul I love sucking your cock. It is beautiful, and it belongs to me. Your cum tastes good. It always does. Spurting into my mouth, filling it up, so delicious and right to swallow."

"Did his cum taste good?"

"I didn't suck him off. He wanted to cum in my pussy. And of course he did."