My sex drive has always been lower than my wife's a situation compounded by a high stress job with long working hours.
The inevitable result was that the frustration led my wife to seek her sexual relief elsewhere.
She has always been very discrete about it, sneaking them into the bedroom and taking her pleasure when I was at work.
I guessed what was going on of course, because her sexual demands on me reduced.
She seemed happier and more content, so I feigned ignorance and went along with it.
Not that they never lasted long anyway. She was always wearing them out or getting bored and dumping them in favour of something new and exciting.
I wasn't jealous, because I knew it was only ever about the sex that I couldn't give her. Nothing more.
Until Roger.
Roger was different.
It probably started the same as all the others - a chance encounter in a shop or online forum. Or possibly one of her friends introduced them.
Either way, Roger joined the long list of those that had filled her lonely pussy and driven her to heights of ecstasy on those long, lonely, nights whilst I was working late.
Except Roger could do it better.
So much better.
She told me later that when Roger entered her, there was always a magical tingling sensation deep inside her core, and that Roger had a way of sensitively massaging her clit whilst fucking her that sent chills through her and never failed to give her the most powerful and satisfying orgasms she'd ever experienced.
She started making demands on me less and less until eventually she stopped asking at all.
I'd been particularly busy at work so didn't notice at first. But then I realised, we hadn't made love for at least a couple of months and knew that something was wrong.
When I confronted her, she just brushed the matter aside, claiming that she'd been tired lately then changed the subject calling me out in all the chores I'd promised to do but failed to complete.
In an attempt to save our marriage, I arranged for us to go on a second honeymoon to rekindle the romance.
Inevitably, it was a disaster from the start, and we ended up arguing all the time.
After one blazing row I ended up going for a walk to clear my head and came back to hear her in the throes of a massive and very noisy orgasm.
Even on our second honeymoon she'd managed to find a way to sneak Roger into our hotel room.
I just sat there outside the door, listening as her pussy was enthusiastically fucked and she was given orgasm after orgasm. The squelching noises of her juices clearly audible through the thin gap under the door as her pussy was enthusiastically ploughed by Roger.
Eventually, I could take no more and went downstairs to the bar to get drunk. Very drunk.
From that point on she dropped all pretence and regularly took Roger to her room whether I was in the house of not.
Eventually she didn't even bother going upstairs and I had to endure the sight of Roger fucking her almost senseless right in front of me in the lounge of our house.
That was the moment I realised that it was Roger or me.
One of us had to go.
Over the next few days, I formulated a plan, but just getting rid of Roger wasn't enough.
There would always be others and, sooner or later, there was bound to be another Roger. Or worse.
No, I had to do this in such a way that she would realise that I was the one she needed.
That, although I hadn't always been able to service her needs, I was the one she'd always been able to depend on and always could.
She had to want ME.
There was a risk that I could lose her altogether, but I'd practically done that anyway, so it was a risk that was worth taking.
