There comes a time in every marriage where the traditional anniversary gifts of flowers, chocolates, and jewelry lose their luster. I had purchased all these for my wife Jessica several times over. It was on our 9th anniversary that we discussed a different sort of commemoration.
My wife is a brunette with shoulder length hair. She's 5'4 and most would say her best asset is her bottom. She has a beautifully rounded, curvy shape that drives men of all sorts wild. While well protected when I'm around, Jessica has told me stories about catcalls and aggression from men simply walking down the street in broad daylight, wearing clothing as conservative as a knee-length skirt and a form-fitting top. That is the sort of body I have been privilege to for nearly a decade.
I have no interest in other women, though I have a healthy sexual appetite and am game for almost anything in the sack. Jessica and I have tried innumerable positions, some to great success and others that only seem to work in illustrated editions of the Kama Sutra.
I do; however, find the idea of Jessica and another man highly appealing. For me, the man is not there to titillate me, but to greatly titillate my wife. The turn on is having her be intimate while I watch, something that I can only fully do when I am not in the middle of it, so to speak.
After using this fantasy in our pillow talk several times, I brought up the idea of a ménage à trois. After discussing the issues of health and privacy, I found ways to overcome all her objections. We would only consider men who were non-locals to our area of California. Because our beach town is frequented by tourists throughout the year, this is extremely easy to do. To alleviate her concerns about health, we would ask men for proof of good health from a recent doctor's visit as well as an HIV status no more than two weeks old. Although this eliminated many potential healthy people who don't bother to get checked, I would not gamble with my wife's health.
After a few weeks, we found two men who fit the bill. Both were interested in brunette married brunette women between 30 and 40. They guys looked similar, olive-skinned, medium height and build. Peter was of Greek ancestry and claimed to be in publishing. James was Italian-American and the owner of a small construction company in the northeast. Most importantly, they would both be in town around the time of our anniversary.
For privacy's sake, we would never open up our home to strangers, much less people that come from the internet. However, there is nothing wrong with meeting up at a nice hotel and seeing how things go from there. This hotel was 20 minutes from our home, but very swanky. It had a four-star restaurant that was extraordinary popular, reservations required. There were two hotel bars, one solely for high-end guests and the other open to the public.
The hotel boasted private beach access as well as indoor and outdoor pool areas. It was the finest hotel either of us had ever stayed in-$400 per night, off season.
The most vital part for this working is that my wife had to have chemistry with the man. If that didn't happen, there would be no bedtime activities beyond the two of us. My wife is not a drinker, but she enjoys a Rum & Coke on occasion. She would meet Peter at the hotel bar and see where the conversation led them. I was to wait upstairs in the room, enjoying the king-size mattress and premium cable on an impressive flat screen.
My wife was waiting for a few minutes when Peter introduced himself with a warm smile and confident embrace. He smelled of Ralph Lauren and was a bit taller than she expected, but otherwise the photo from the internet did him justice. He had dark, wavy hair cut conservatively, like a banker. He had a prominently Roman nose and was clean-shaven. His Brooks Brothers suit was fitted and very dark navy. Peter dressed to the nines, as they used to say.
My wife and Peter talked briefly about their work. Neither had children and so that was the most important part of their lives. They also discussed music, my wife preferring Rock and Peter modern jazz. What impressed my wife was that Peter listened with full attention, never once checking out the scene at the bar or picking up his phone.
After an hour or so, my wife mentioned to Peter that she had a room upstairs with some alcohol. Peter was not a drinker, but thought he might come up for a nightcap. My wife asked if he minded that I would be there. This is where most men would get nervous and our anniversary plan hinged on a very specific type of guy: open, tolerant, social, but 100 % straight. Peter passed on all accounts.
When my wife and new friend Peter took the elevator to the hotel room, neither was the least bit drunk. I saw that they were comfortable as old friends, but offered to mix screwdrivers to make the evening interesting. The three of us downed two each, and I make them strong so we were all feeling the effects.
I put some music on from a smooth jazz station. Following a pause in conversation, I began to massage my wife's shoulders. She was very relaxed, but thought it would nice to remove her top. She half-covered herself up with an arm before lying on the bed on her stomach. Seeing my wife partially nude aroused Peter. He was obviously hard an unsure how to proceed.
Having discussed it with my wife many times, I knew what to do. "Peter, why don't you rub Jessica's feet for a while. She really likes that."
Peter did not require further encouragement. It turns out Peter was a decent masseuse, using very firm pressure to hit those points that drew slow moans out of anyone, most especially my wife.
