This is the first part of a cuckold story. If you don't like wives having sex with men that are not their husbands, with no revenge, then I recommend not reading it.
*****
I'm sure every good husband has only the best to say about his wife; I'm of no exception. Though you have only my word to believe, I promise you the person I'm about to describe is of no exaggeration. My wife, Irene, was beautiful in every possible way one could fathom. What I found most amazing about her beauty, was its ability to go unnoticed; when she wanted it to. I certainly don't mean that for any instance she was not the same beautiful woman she always is; however, if almost by magic, she would just blend in. Anyone passing her on the street would almost certainly give her no extra attention. But the moment she wanted to be the center of attention, the switch would be turned on and she would light up any room she walked into; though that is very rare. Now, that certainly is an accomplishment that would be difficult to achieve without effort and so it almost goes without saying, my wife worked hard at it. It was a skill she had been training from the first day that boys started noticing her. It came from her vast sense of modesty and reserve. Though she did not often have the urge to flaunt, I can certainly say with confidence, that she was not prudish. Irene was petite, with a full size bust and tush. It was amazing that she manage to keep her figure even past collage, but I guess that came from all that time in the gym.
Dwayne , or as I would call him "Old Man," is exactly as the name implies, an old man. One who could describe himself with a lot more flatter than I. It wasn't that I had a hatred for the man, just a proverbial bad taste. Which you will later learn came with good reason. The worse part about it all, would be that I needed the old man. The way a person who wants to sell his soul needs the devil. And like those few, who have an unquenchable thirst that leads them either success or madness, I did something previously unimaginable; I surrendered to my greedy lust. Now, I don't mean to paint the old man as some kind of living Beelzebub; that would be harsh and I have to be honest, far worse than his actual character. Except for his arrogance, the man was actually decent, having no worse fault than the next guy. Perhaps the real demon that I was trying to describe was inside me; the one we all have but are not suppose to pay any attention. Well, mine had taken complete control and was behind the wheel. But I'm getting off track, back to Dwayne. He is around 60, aged well and actually decent shape for his milage. But I've always heard black men aged like a whiskey. Contrasting with his dark skin was greying hair and I believe for any woman around his age would consider him a great catch. But how could a woman many years younger be attracted to this man? With my help, the answer is my wife.
How it all began:
It was our anniversary, and I had the usual plans; dinner and drinks. It would have been like any other weekend that we went out. Except, this time we was going to a new place, a higher end joint and we had the attire to match. Myself, a nice dark gray tailored suit; with the right amount of color splashed in at the rights spots. I was putting on the finishing touches when Irene comes gliding into the room. Until then, I hadn't seen her dress except on the rack; it was a black, form fitting, and a work of art. A dress that wrapped around her body like it was created just for her. Stopping right above the knee, with the sides open allowing her legs to tease any onlookers while she walked but would swiftly close back when she had stopped. The tops of her white smooth breasts clearly showing, allowing the most perfect cleavage. To finish it off, as if that wasn't enough, only a few well placed threads covered her back. With the open back, tapering closed right above her large round tush. I had never seen my wife dress like this before, and if it wasn't for the expensive reservations then I would have made love to her right there in the room.
However, we was off on our date. Upon entering the restaurant, which was more of a club, we was sat down in a corner booth. From there we could see all the dancing in the center of the room as well as the patrons sitting at the bar.
"Thank you, so much," Irene spoke to me; breaking the silence which slightly startled me. I look up from my plate and see her staring at me with those beautiful eyes; she was grinning ear to ear.
"For what?" I said, smiling back.
"Taking me out to this place and dressing up. For just being so loving and caring. I know dancing isn't your thing and it would have been easier to just take me to our usual spot. I understand we have hit a rough spot and I can't help but feel it is my fault"
I didn't care much for dancing but I cared a lot for her and she loves to dance. I knew the rough spot she was referring; things has slowed down in the bedroom. But that was expected, no two people could be sexually at each other all the time. Especially after being married for a while. Still, we couldn't help notice it, even it was perfectly normal. Except, I been acting strange and Irene believed it was from our lack of love making. I have to admit, however, that I accidentally put the thought into her mind. See, I have recently developed a fantasy; one that might be considered slightly eccentric. From discovery the topic; then avidly reading Hott Wife stories, I began to have a strong desire to see my wife fuck other men. I can't fully explain how a man can have such a drive but I had it. I think it came from a strong enjoyment for porn. I really enjoyed seeing women get passionately fucked, especially beautiful innocent looking women. And there is no woman I find more beautiful than my Irene, except she doesn't just looks innocent, she is innocent. It sounds something akin to being psychotic, after saying it outloud but I wanted to see her lose her innocence. I don't mean raped or even in the slightest forced; I wanted her to willingly surrender it. I wanted to sit back and watch her, just for the night, get fucked. It would be like my own private porn. I could see all the details and hear all the sounds. It was from this constantly consuming mad desire that I finally got up the nerve to talk to Irene about my fantasy. I don't know what I was hoping to achieve or what reaction I expected from her. Truth was, I didn't care. It made no sense, but there was no talking sense back into me. I waited until we was laying in bed one night and I asked her if she had any fantasies. I got the usual romantic fantasy, candles and whatnot. It was then that I asked her if she ever wanted to sleep with anyone else. She immediately got upset and started to battering me with questions. She asked, "Are you wanting to sleep with someone else or see other people?" I panicked, I might not have planned her reaction but I certainly didn't imagine this would have been it. I tried to reconcile and explain I had a fantasy of my own but the damage had already been done. She didn't want to hear anything else; she believed I wanted to sleep with other women because of our own slowed sex life. She eventually cheered back up but I knew it was still on her mind. From fear of opening up an old wound, I left the topic alone. But tonight, I wanted to address the issue and let her know that I didn't have any desire to be with other women. So it was now that I took the plunge and replied to her previous comment about the "rough spot."
"Babe, I know you believe that I want to sleep with other women and that our love making is not at the level I want. But I promise you that isn't the case. That night, I simply wanted to ask your fantasy and tell you one of my own; which doesn't involve other women."
"I know, and I'm sorry" she replied. "I just keep hearing about men having these high sex drives and I was afraid you wanted to be with another woman. I know I overreacted and should have let you finish before I jumped to conclusions."
We reached out and held hands for a second to say "I love you." Before we could pick up conversation, the waiter came over to our table with a new round of drinks.
"I didn't order these," I told the waiter.
"It is from the gentleman over there," he replied; pointing at an older black gentleman sitting at the bar. Me and my wife raised our glasses to him simultaneously smiling, in a show of thanks.
"Why do you think he bought us these," my wife asked me.
Replying with, "I probably say he thinks you're attractive, you are the best looking woman in the place."
"Don't be silly; we are clearly together. And I am not the best looking woman here." my wife stated with curious tone of voice.
"Yes you are. And apparently I'm not the only one who thinks so. Think about it; what other reason would he?" I stated.
"If that was the case then why did he buy you one too? Don't tell me he thinks we are both attractive," she jokingly asked.
"Of course not, but he isn't going to just buy you one with me here. I'm sure he is bold but probably not that bold." I returned.
My wife stared at her drink in thought and I couldn't help but wonder why this gesture had her in such awe. Then it dawned on me; my wife never had a guy buy her a drink. She wasn't much of a drinker before we married and didn't, if any, go to bars. I had not just been the only guy to have sex with her but really flirt with her. It was at that moment, I done something without really thinking. I looked over at the man and waved him over. Now I know what you are thinking, I did this in the hopes of fulfilling my fantasy but I really didn't. I guess, I thought he was too old for my wife to find attractive. I had simply wanted to see her reaction to a little bit of flirting, kind of a test run. My wife saw what I had done and began to panic.
"What you doing!?" she firmly asked.
"I figured we could thank him for the drinks." I replied, matter of factly. " It would be rude if we didn't." Before anything else could be said, the older gentleman had arrived at our table. "We wanted to thank you for the drinks. Please, have a seat" I told him.
"Your welcome," he spoke. It was actually my way of saying thank you.
"For what?" My wife asked with genuine curiosity. I was actually shocked she said anything at all but I would soon learn that my wife was full of surprises.
"For bringing that beautiful face here in this joint." He told her. This made my wife blush and look away. I could tell she didn't know how to take the compliment.
"You're welcome," I quickly replied on her behalf. It was at that time I introduced us, with him doing the same. It was at that time I learned his name, Dwayne; it would be one that I didn't forget. The conversation continued along with the drinks. None of us was getting drunk but we was certainly feeling it. My wife began to open up more with her eventually becoming actively engaged in the conversation. It was after a while that I noticed the conversation had became mainly between her and him. I was now on the side lines and though they was a sting of jealousy, it was a pain I enjoyed. I simply set back and watched the show. Irene wasn't heavenly flirting but she was enjoying herself. She kept laughing a lot and smiling. After the old man made one of his jokes, he manage to place his hand on her's; it was only for a second before she pulled away but the fact they touched, sent my mind rampant. It was inevitable that my wife had to use the lady's room. She excused herself thus leaving me and the old man to talk.
"You have a very beautiful wife." He told me. "Mind if I take her out on the floor for a dance?"
