Authors Note.
This is the first of several stories about my wife's incredible journey from prim and proper woman to a cock loving slut. This is a true story. The events actually happened and my description is as true and genuine as I could possibly make them.
I had just gotten through a mercifully short and relatively shallow period of depression, caused in large part by love affair that went bad, when I met the woman who was later to become my wife. She was a 50 year old divorcee and I was 51 and, so I thought, a committed life-long bachelor.
We are both about five feet 7 inches tall and our bodies are pretty typical of people of our age. Janice is a natural blonde and yes, the carpet does match the curtains. If I have one complaint it is that she rarely trims down below preferring to leave it natural. She does have a bit of a spare tyre but thankfully it's more of a bicycle tyre than a truck tyre. Her ass is a bit on the narrow side but I have noticed guys admiring it when she wears her favourite jeans. Her breasts are an impressive 36DD and, while they are no longer as firm as she would like, she can still go bra-less without embarrassment. Not that she is ever likely to go out without wearing a bra. Her nipples and areolas are small and delightfully pink.
I played regular pick-up soccer until six months ago when an ankle injury forced me to stop. I am generally in pretty good shape but two beers a day and the sudden lack of exercise is starting to show. My dick is pretty average, I would love to say that it is huge but it isn't. The good news is that it still works well. I prefer to keep my cock and balls shaved and my pubes neatly trimmed.
We met at a mutual friend's party and it was clear right from the start that we were at ease with each other. She clearly enjoyed my English accent and sense of humour and I was attracted by her confidence and optimism (well, that and her body too). Our relationship progressed and a few months later we arranged to take a weekend trip to the Niagara Region to explore some of the wineries in the area. On that trip we made love for the first time. Our sex life became quite active and it seemed that we only had to touch each other and it would spark an hour or two of sweet lovemaking.
One day we got talking about orgasms and I told her that I envied women of our age because of their ability to climax multiple times in one session of lovemaking whereas guys normally couldn't manage more than a couple. Janice suggested that she could orgasm more times in one evening than I could in a week. I asked how many times she thought I would be able to cum in a week and she said it would be no more than three. I laughed and told her it would at least be in double figures and perhaps as many as fourteen or fifteen times. I figured twice a day for a week was achievable.
Her response was immediate. "I'll bet you anything that you can't."
"Here are my terms." I replied. "Starting on Friday evening, as soon as you get home from work, you will strip me naked and masturbate me. From then on I will be naked whenever we are in the house together and you will help me get off whenever I feel like it. It may be you jerking me off or me taking care of myself while you watch or the two of us having sex. You have to witness every orgasm."
She agreed and we started on the following Friday. I managed five orgasms between Friday evening and Monday morning and I thought the rest of the week would be easy. I only managed four more in the following four and a half days. I was very disappointed. She didn't gloat but told me that she was impressed that I could manage as many as nine.
At this point in our relationship it seemed that she was always ready and willing to have fun.
Fast forward a year or so and, even though we still loved each other, our sex life dwindled from several times a week to a couple of times a month and then to once every two months or so.
I tried all I could think of to spice it up again but nothing seemed to get her interested. I would sometimes greet her completely naked when she came home from work or I would make her dinner and serve it to her wearing just a servers apron. I did stripteases for her and encouraged her to do the same for me but she still seemed to be uninterested. All of the other aspects of our relationship were fine but our sex life was virtually non-existent. I realized that my wife had become a prude and was not comfortable with anything that might be called risquΓ©. I got the feeling that she was settling into middle age without her sense of adventure.
In spite of that, our love for each other was as strong as ever and I proposed to her on a trip to Punta Cana. We were married a year later. For a few months our love life sparked up again but then she had a medical issue and her libido immediately disappeared. A little while later a change in medication solved her medical problem but did nothing to improve her libido.
I took my wedding vows seriously and I promised myself that I would never cheat but our lack of sex was making me feel unfulfilled. I decided that we had to have a conversation about it.
One evening I said to her. "Honey, how come we don't make love anymore."
She replied in a very offhand way. "Sex is no longer a priority for me."
"Don't you have any sexual fantasies?" I asked.
"None" she replied. "Do you."
"Yes, I have two recurring fantasies." I said. "One is to be the waiter at a ladies cocktail party and the other is to see you strip and have sex with another man. In the fantasy the other man is sometimes white but most often black."
"That's disgusting." She shot back.
I could tell that her anger was about to erupt and so I tried to mollify her. "They're just fantasies dear. I don't expect either of them to ever actually take place."
She muttered something under her breath and declared "I'm going to bed. Don't wake me when you come up."
"That went well." I said to myself and tried to watch the rest of a Leafs' hockey game. I couldn't concentrate and the commentary just faded into background noise.
My frustration continued for months and months and eventually boiled over into a massive argument. In the heat of the moment things were said and instantly regretted. Unfortunately I mentioned our lack of sexual activity and she went on a rant about me never helping out around the house and she was exhausted after working all day and then coming home to do all of the chores.
Her job as a Senior Manager in the provincial government was certainly stressful but the fact is, with my flexible work schedule, I was doing most of the cleaning around the house, most of the grocery shopping, all of the work in the garden and keeping the house in good working order. During the week I would have a meal ready for her when she got home from work and after we had eaten I would take care of the dishes.
The only thing I didn't do was laundry and that was because she "couldn't trust me not to ruin her clothes."
We hardly spoke to each other for a week or so. Another month passed and, while our relationship was civil and friendly, our sex life was still moribund.
One morning she told me that she was taking the day off work and she asked me what time I would be home. I told her that I had an insurance training session to attend in the office as well as several client appointments but my last appointment was at 5.15 and it would likely only last 15 or 20 minutes and I should be home by 6 o'clock.
Just after 6pm I arrived at the townhouse complex that we live in, parked my car in the underground garage and entered through the basement door. As soon as I got in I could hear conversation upstairs and wondered who the visitor was. I climbed the stairs to the main floor and looked into the living room. My wife is sitting in an armchair talking to a black guy who is sitting on the sofa. My wife is laughing and seems to be enjoying herself but she does also appear to be a little nervous.
As I enter the living room she says to the other guy "This is my husband."