My gorgeous wife Renee has one flaw. Well, we could maybe argue about other possible shortcomings, but for the most part she is as perfect as any man could envision. Her one outrageous weakness is that she gets crazy out of her mind drunk on hard alcohol. Straight Brandy mostly. I actually didn't even know this until we had been married for a couple of years; she was not a regular drinker.
When I did first find out it was a bit of a shock to me, but nothing relationship threatening. She didn't do anything to harm herself like drive drunk or juggle butcher knives. Turns out when my wife gets in that condition all she wants to do is fuck. Anything with pants on, with a strong preference for a new conquest. And she doesn't do it the usual girly way, by just flirting and showing glimpses of her privates, waiting for the man to take the next step.
Once she gets past a given point, Renee pretty much just grabs ahold of the nearest male and starts tugging his pants off. And some of her episodes are wonders to behold. She gets non-stop hormonal and does whatever she needs to do to resolve that itch. You will likely take that as an exaggeration of reality, so I will give you an example.
Maybe you will begin to see my point when I tell you that my wife fucked every one of the guys in my old poker game, on a weekly basis. Well, old Edwin just watched, with a smile on, but I think his boner days were just physically behind him by then.
I kind of felt sorry for Edwin. Sorry that the ravages of old age had stolen something so precious away from him, and sorry that it happened before he was able to fuck Renee in all her glory. Edwin has been gone for a few years now, and our poker game was disbanded shortly thereafter. I still run into one or another of the players around town and they always ask after my wife, with a twinkle in their eye, a self-satisfied smile on their face and sometimes a bit of a tent around their zipper. I sometimes didn't even remember to pass their best wishes on to Renee.
I genuinely smile when I remember those poker-game Thursdays. The other 5 players seemed to go crazy keeping my tipsy wife in orgasms. After she had gotten to the inevitable tipping point it was simply understood that when a hand was about to be dealt, the dealer would simply deal out the player who seemed to be next up on Renee's radar screen. That usually meant her target would miss all or most of the hands in that round. No one ever complained. Me the least of all. I always enjoy watching Renee with her clothes off, fucking. No matter who it is. It tickled me that all of my card buddies were so willing to give of themselves just to please my wife.
I am reminded of one time that one of our regulars had to miss a game, so he rounded up a buddy to fill in, but he somehow failed to clue the guy in as to the expected side action with the hostess. Of course, my naked wife had already 'hosted' several of the players before it was this man's turn, but I have to say he did a bang up job at every turn he got that night. Lots of fun.
Renee usually made her moves around the table, right behind the dealer, and she most assuredly never skipped my turn at bat.
I'm sure you are wondering what the fuck did I do about all this? I did give that some serious cogitation. Firstly, I realized that these were not altogether bad things that were happening. My beloved wife was obviously enjoying the hell out of it. And, as you can imagine, the players were hugely in favor of all the goings-on. A couple of the guys told me point blank that their sex life at that time was the greatest it had ever been...once or twice a month with their wife and a few times each Thursday night with mine.
Frankly, that made me proud of Renee and it pleased her too after I told her those quotes. In any case, it never even dawned on me to try and put a stop to it all. I loved my wife far too much to put a brake on her enjoyment, and I certainly didn't feel like my manhood was threatened by the fact that my buddies envied my wife's pussy. They only enjoyed it one night a week, I had her all 7. I am not sure why so many insecure guys put like a religious slant on some recreational extra-marital sex.
To put this all in context, we have been married 12 years now. So, it has been 10 years living with a nymphomaniac wife and loving every loving day of it. I use the word nymphomaniac for my wife, but we all know that is not accurate. A nympho fucks as a way to hurt herself, it is a mental illness.
Renee would be the first to correct that view of her condition. She absolutely LOVES fucking, and, apparently, she specially loves the variety of it. The straight brandy is simply an enabler to be able to play with a larger number of partners. She has said it is only so she can enjoy more orgasms than she can with just me, her old standby, 1-or-2 shot hubby. When she first told me that, I realized her alcoholism may not entirely stem from a weakness for brandy, she was maybe using it on purpose as an excuse to fuck around. I didn't care about the nuances, 'happy wife, happy life'.
I once overheard Renee talking with her bestie, Margaret, in the kitchen. Margaret asked her "Renee, how do you do it? It sounds like you are fucking a dozen guys a week and you don't even try to hide it from your husband!" I'm pretty sure that was an exaggeration, but I didn't know what week they had been talking about so I couldn't be sure.