A Loving Wife's Story

I met an interesting man. His table had a vacant chair in the crowded student union, and I took it. We met, and the chemistry of attraction had a fizz. He was unusually good looking, manly handsome in all those subliminal ways only a woman sees, even though what she sees is not clearly defined. There were too many parts flitting about; parts that touched recognition buried somewhere in me, a recognition that had tentacles reaching all the way back to childhood possibly, and possibly brushing over males without count that had left marks on my brain for unknown reasons. And then there were those recent reasons of man imprint that made my mind almost shout: "Can it be? Is this Dennis Cantrell the ideal man?"

Was it only a year or so ago my husband and I had discovered a treasure of erotic excitement in my telling him in full detail my sexual experiences with men when I was single? He came to fully accept his deep releasing thrill in my words and his vivid mental images of other men fucking me. I found, and completely accepted, my own sexual thrill in sharing my past with him, loving him all the more for his bonding with me, his fusion with me, when I described other men fucking me, even desiring me. Our treasure chest expanded to the possibility of contemporary men, not memory men of years past, fucking me, his wife.

We had even rehearsed the idea, an exercise of both delicious fun and serious investigation, that left us with tacit agreement that this next step had a sound logic and potential to give us erotic thrills and excitement greater than any we had shared yet. That tacit agreement slept quietly for a few months, then I accidentally met Dennis Cantrell, and came home to tell my husband "I met an interesting man today." My husband had conditioned response interest in my new interest. Our sleeping tacit agreement came awake and saw sunlight streaming through the windows.

I went to the student union the same time as yesterday. Dennis was no where in sight. Nor was he the next day. Damn! The third day he was.

"There you are! I've been looking all over for you." I sat at his table, rather breathless, a woman on a mission.

"Have you!" He said, surprised, flattered, beaming.

"Yes I have. I greatly enjoyed your company the other day, and wanted more of it. What is your schedule? Mine is somewhat tight, and next time I take a break here I don't want to look everywhere to find you."

Dennis was flabbergasted. Obviously, he wasn't used to a woman coming on to him so directly. But he quickly adapted, his ego and self-esteem inflated and giving him buoyancy.

"Then we must set a fixed time to meet each day."

"If you enjoy my company as much as I enjoy yours, that is."

"A pretty, vivacious, charming woman like you? Of course I enjoy your company. More than I dare say."

"Done deal then. I will be your away from home diversion, and you will be my away from student and faculty diversion. Mutual benefit. And who knows? Soon we might dare to say many things to each other." My unflinching gaze into his eyes, my smile of invitation, confirmed my readiness for daring adventure. "So! How are your classes going?"

Dennis seemed relieved by my abrupt change of direction. My bold and unmistakable flirtation, all on the strength of accidental meeting over coffee three days earlier, had stunned him. Truth be told, I was a little wobbly myself. The more I listened to him speak, and sponged up all his body language of most appealing masculinity, the more I thought I had indeed found the ideal man to make love with. I had recently concluded there was no such thing as that ideal man. Now I was being proved wrong. But I knew (even then I thought of my husband) I knew it would very difficult to describe to Jamie all those signals from Dennis that were turning me on.

His hair cut. The same as a hundred million other men had theirs cut, but looked so uniquely perfect on HIM! The shape of his skull; all the planes and protrusions and valleys in perfect sculptural proportion. His brows the exact width and length. His eyes were a greenish hazel that glistened and sparkled with animation, but they also embedded gentleness and kindness.

His body was a fantasy ideal. I had already decided it would be best if my selected lover had physical construction different from my husband. Just for novelty alone. Dennis was a bit taller than Jamie. He was thicker. Not a weight lifter type, and certainly not pudgy. It was like his broad shoulders and back and chest was layered in slabs of muscle. He had what they call a barrel chest, rounded from his pecs all the way down to his crotch, but he had no pot. If we ended up in bed, he would fuck me with great strength and energy. His hairy forearms free of the polo shirt were packed with long ropy muscle that jumped and twanged at the slightest movement of his hands, which were big with nicely articulated fingers. If we didn't make it to the bed those big hands could clutch my ass and hold my full weight of my legs around him while he fucked me standing. Now THAT I could tell to my husband - after it happened.

I was multi-tasking. While registering all the signals of his physical appearance and body language, I was also absorbing personal information from what he said, and adding to that information with questions. We chatted for an hour. For a man, he was unusually free in talking about himself, his children, with occasional references to his wife Cindy. I kept my references to Jamie at a minimum, but in the end we established we were both happily married, were emotionally stable, happy with our lives and careers, and found in each other a light hearted and stimulating diversion worthy of maintaining. We exchanged cell numbers in case we got tied up in personal business - more specifically, to arrange these continued coffee dates.

After work I was bubbling with possibility and couldn't wait for Jamie to get home.

"I ran into that Dennis Cantrell again today."

"I thought maybe you would, sooner or later."

"He's worth the chase. I must say that. We had a nice chat over coffee in the student union."

"So. You are now chasing him?"

"A figure of speech. He's very handsome, in that all man way. Very warm and generous personality too."

"So what did you chat about?"

"The university. His courses. His career. A little about his wife and children back home all week. I asked several questions, in a sly way, to learn his particulars. I think he is our kind of people. The kind, you know, our rehearsal a few months ago demanded."

"Are you reviving that rehearsal?"

"You greatly enjoyed that, didn't you." I stated a fact.

"It expanded my consciousness, I have to say that."

"Expanded yours and mine. Enough that we don't need any more rehearsal, I think. I'm ready for the curtain rise and spot lights on. Are you?"

My husband gave me a long pensive look. "I don't know," he finally breathed out. "Maybe. Sort of. Half way I suppose."

I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him tightly. I didn't kiss him. I was reassuring him I reassured him with my body tight to his, my hands feeling all of him within reach, his neck and shoulders and back and arms and a hearty grip of his ass cheeks. His loving wife who loved him and only him. I stepped back.

"We both are jumping the gun, perhaps. This takes much more than two chats over coffee. We have only begun some mild flirtation. His attraction for me might far exceed my attraction for him."

"Fat chance." Jamie said with authority.

"You never know. I will keep coffee dates with him when I can, and just see how it will play out. There is plenty of time for you to get in further, pass that half way point, and say yes I'm ready, let's do this.... Or say no, I can't do this." I added.

"Say yes. Or say no. Sounds fair enough."

Dennis and I began texting. "Meet at three?... Great! See you then." "Sorry, a student crisis, darn it, see you tomorrow?" Thus, I began a courtship with, and seduction of, Dennis Cantrell.

I bought new clothes. Professional pant suits that held my ass in a snug round fit, summer dresses. The air was warm and sunny, trees almost in full leaf. A perfect setting for romance. I did some very careful shopping to find new clothes that were modestly revealing and sexy without going too far beyond the strictures of professional decorum. I found some bras of filmy light knit that made me look braless, but still gave support and uplift. My husband noticed at once, and gave me fulsome praise and approval. Dennis noticed too, with straying eyes that gave his whole face a glow of approval. I felt beautiful and sexy and desirable.

There wasn't much comprehensive report to make for Jamie in my first ten days of dates with Dennis. I was a little bit bold, but cautious and deliberate in feeling him out. He didn't seem to have any curiosity about my husband. My main interest in his marriage was to gage his personality, his general sense of responsibility. I didn't have to probe much to gain that. If he was good to his wife, he would be good to me. Otherwise, his wife, along with my husband, remained an unknown, outside the picture Dennis and I were painting. I concentrated on driving home the thesis that I was his diversion during his week away from his wife and children, and he was my diversion from career duties, a diversion that pleased me more each time I saw him and chatted with him. In a few weeks his courses would be done and he would be gone. We were ships passing in the night.

My husband's thesis to drive home was concern that colleagues, even students, might see the frequency of my meeting with Dennis and raise brows and wag tongues. I assured him that was unlikely, and if it did occur he was just another student. Every professor on campus could be seen at some time in private conference with a student in a public place. I even had time blocked out for conferences with students in my office with the door closed. And that gave me an idea, which I didn't reveal to Jamie then.

I typed a text: "Meet me on the plaza, next to that huge metal sculpture that looks like rusted spaghetti. 3 p.m."

Dennis was on time, standing at the base of the sculpture, staring up at the twisted iron work, trying like all others to see why it was said to be a work of art. He was wearing khaki pants and his favorite, apparently, polo shirt style. He looked every bit the part of an ideal lover. A strong solid man, muscular and capable. His ass a neat round, neither small nor large, and doubtless a driving force that would make his hard cock a piston ramming my cunt. With that thought in mind , I got out my cell phone and took several shots of him while he was oblivious of my near presence.

"What a beautiful day!" I exclaimed, reaching him with a skip and hop.

"Spring sprung and summer is just around the corner. May I say how lovely you look?"

My chest and face flushed with pleasure at his compliment. I felt lovely in my new summer dress. I felt womanly under the light fabric gracing my curves and hills and valleys. That womanly state of sexuality oozing through the weave of femininity.

"You are quite the masculine hunk of eye candy yourself." I said with a smile of infatuation and a look into his eyes that declared my weakness for his allure, with a lift of my hand to barely touch the long silky soft hairs on his brawny forearm. "I have to run an errand and thought you might like to join me."

I could see his mind scanning a list of housewife errands - Oil change? Pay a utility bill, buy a new pair of shoes? He quickly said, "My pleasure. I'm at your service."

"A jaunt to the Farmer's Market." I said. "I'll drive."

I took a long way around to get there, showing Dennis interesting parts of the city he hadn't seen. Something about a car imposes a degree of intimacy on front seat passengers. It might even be intimacy of hate, where each stares straight ahead, fuming, refusing to speak. More often it is intimacy of comfortable accord and inevitable glances at bodies in silhouette. The line of neck and jaw, the seat belt capturing my left breast in a noose, my legs I'm so vain about, without panty hose, showing creamy white from a bit above my knees to my foot on the gas pedal. The enclosed car imposed a special intimacy because the man belted in the passenger seat, a man less and less a stranger, was a man I had chosen to fuck me.

We rounded that curve of toy box invention and The Red Rooster Inn loomed into view. I had to bite my tongue to keep from blurting out: I got fucked in that motel one time.

"That motel used to be a land mark, years ago. They say it has gone to seed now."

"It does suddenly jump from the hill side." Dennis said.

"Urban lore holds that place was a favorite of clandestine lovers."

"Clandestine lovers. That has a nice ring to it. Much better than hot sheet motel, as they are called where I come from."

"A much nicer ring. Clandestine lovers implies sudden passion, desire, daring, opportunity, surrender, wonderful fulfillment. For a woman it does. What does it imply for you?"

"Everything you just said. When the passion is high enough, it really doesn't matter where the lovers go. A seedy motel, the woods, a cheap apartment."

"One thing does matter very much. Security. Secrecy. Not getting caught. Keeping the clandestine, clandestine."

"I couldn't agree more."

I gave Dennis a sealed, signed and delivered smile. He gave me a smile of recognizing a stunning proposition. His breathing got a little tight. I abruptly changed the subject.

"It's called Farmer's Market because from late June to October local growers flood the place with produce. The rest of the year less vendors sell vegetables from all over the world or from their greenhouses. It's the only place in the city that has Japanese egg plant any day of the year."

"This might sound strange, but I've never eaten any kind of egg plant."

The market was bustling but less than it would in a couple of months. I had thought about that, and was comfortable with the idea of very high odds against anyone knowing me showing up at that time. I took us straight to the stall selling long skinny Japanese egg plant. I bought two.

"How do you cook those things?"

"Lot's of ways. Fry, roast, puree." I stopped talking and took on the look of a woman who had a sudden thought that she wasn't sure of. "Maybe I could invite you to dinner and you could have your first taste of egg plant."

"That would be a treat."

"It might be awkward, though."

"For your husband?"

"I was thinking of me. It would take much restraint of me to keep my hands off of you." To prove my point, I reached for his hand and clasped his fingers in mine. Our first touch of skin to skin. The touch was electric. His large hand squeezed my tiny one with understanding and complicity. "This way." I said.

I led him about the market, feeling the heat of our clasped hands flush up my arm and over my chest and down to my groin. Holding hands with a powerfully handsome and sexy man, feeling like a teen back in high school exulting in my discovery of female sexuality, power of attraction, my instinctive wiles to make contact with a boy. I stopped to examine merchandise I had no interest in at all, solicited his opinion, listened carefully to what he had to say by watching his lips form words, thinking how nicely shaped his lips were, how they would feel on mine. After lifting something to examine it and putting it back, my hand would casually touch his shoulder, arm, back, to punctuate a comment, then reach to join his hand and lead him to another stall. My hip bumped his in our meander, my tit pressed his arm.

Dennis was fully into the game. He laughed with me at just about everything we said, not caring what was said. Several times he looked like he wanted to kiss me. I most definitely wanted to kiss him, right there in the concourse, a more than several times feeling.

As I drove him back to the university and his car, I said, "That was fun! Thank you for coming with me."

"Great fun! Thank you for asking me. You said you would be my away from home diversion. A most charming and delightful diversion you are. You most certainly are." He said with a delighted smile that was both carefree teenage boy and confident, experienced man.

"Our shopping proved a point."

"What point is that?"

"I couldn't keep my hands off of you."

"Then your inviting me to dinner to eat that egg plant is not the best idea."

"Apparently not. We will have to come up with a better one."

"I am up to that. Clandestine..." He mused.

"What an exciting word." I said.

When my husband came home that night he was surprised to see Japanese egg plant on the counter. I told him I went to the Farmer's Market. "I took Dennis with me."

"More getting acquainted?"

"Oh yes. More and more. More and more I am convinced he is the ideal man. Ideal in all the senses we have discussed and rehearsed. I cannot perceive a single threat or negative in him. He is just a beautiful manly man, and I have to tell you the chemistry of sexual attraction and desire is rapidly building up in both of us. This little courtship is having very positive results."

"You certainly have a happy glow."

"Oh Jamie! I feel like I'm fifteen again. Back in high school. Exploring, learning. Taking this next step with a new man for sharing it all with you." I was so excited I couldn't keep my hands off my husband. I hugged him and ran my hands up and down his body. His body so familiar to me, his body I loved that made sweet love to me in our marriage bed. "Thank you for giving us this... next step. Thank you thank you my precious love." I kissed him with all my love, and with residuals of sexual excitement stirred up at the Farmer's Market. "I have some pictures of him I want you to see."

I got out my cell phone and brought up the shots I took of Dennis. "I took these pictures while he was waiting to meet me at the plaza today. He had no idea he was posing for me. What do you think?"

Jamie watched my finger tip move on the phone to present Dennis is various standing postures, with his face in three quarter profile only once. Jamie looked at the images with intense interest, but I could not guess what he was thinking.

"He looks like a healthy, clean cut sort, I suppose." Jamie said.

"Would you like to meet him?"

"I see no reason to. I now know what he looks like. What about him excites you so much?"

"Everything! His smile, his voice, his manner, his physique. We discussed this some time ago, but it is not possible to exactly describe why a woman finds a man attractive. Sexually attractive. But this Dennis is the whole package, trust me."

"Like Warren on the country club patio?"

"Not yet. Not until Dennis and I have our first kiss. Even then it will be nothing like kissing Warren. This time my kissing another man will be with your foreknowledge and granted permission. Taking our toy box to the next level. With a thought out plan well considered and even rehearsed. This time will have no accidental inputs. This time won't be a past memory I recreate for you. This time Dennis will be my selected lover to take me for his passionate need and pleasure, and I will give myself to him with no holding back. I will want to fuck him as much as he want's to fuck me. That is the truth of what we have chosen to do."

My husband stared at me without really seeing me, I thought. His eyes all inward to a vision of my wanting to fuck Dennis Cantrell as much as he wanted to fuck me. The culmination of our carefully considered plan.

"And the truth," I said, "of what we are doing also contains that fantastic reward for you. Your total sharing of all from beginning to end and the erotic, sexual, emotional transport you will have and be ravished by."