Something that always keeps my husband very interested and excited is exchanging tales of my dates with a man he works with. This man is named Kyle and he also has a dating wife. I wrote about what Kyle told my husband after Kyle's wife, Toni, had her first extra-marital experience with another man. At the time I was very bothered that my husband would even tell anyone about me, much less share spicy details. What if Kyle told others? Then it sort of excited me that somebody knew about me.
I came to realize that swapping tales with Kyle was important for my husband's enjoyment of my trysts. More than once, when I haven't been on a date for a while, my husband has mentioned that he needs some new "material" to share with Kyle.
I then understand that I need to do my best to provide the "material" soon or Kyle may get bored. Kyle is sharing stories with my husband. He needs hot stories in return.
Like most sharing couples, my husband and I use my tales about my experiences to spark our lovemaking. We have even used a few of the tales that Kyle has told my husband to spice up our lovemaking. Most recently, my husband told me once again what Kyle said happened right after the first, unexpected date.
My husband gets hard without any help when he tells me about what went through Kyle's mind that night. I will relate it to you from Kyle's perspective:
"When I realized that my wife had just hung up after getting what she assumed was my permission to fuck that guy, I couldn't believe it. I dialed her cell phone but it was obviously turned off.
That angered me. I wanted to call her. I wanted to tell her to get her ass home before I came and beat the shit out of both of them. Then I remembered that she was using his cell phone. I looked at the caller ID to get the number. It just said 'out of area.'
She had cut off communications so I couldn't intervene! I slammed things around and talked to myself – shouted actually. I called her every name in the book. I was filled with rage at my helplessness.
I took two stiff drinks. Finally, sitting before the television, I rubbed my cock through my pants and thought about what she was probably doing. Next, I got my cock out. It was dripping pre-cum. I stroked myself and soon released into my handkerchief.
How could I do that? How could I jerk off when I knew that, at that very moment, my own wife was probably fucking another man?
I sat there, sort of sick to my stomach. I was taking in everything, all at once. I realized that nothing would ever be the same between Toni and me, never, ever again. She would always have this experience, this infidelity. I wanted to throw something but instead, I started stroking myself again.
Pretty soon, I was imagining what they were doing, almost like being a voyeur. I realized that I was sickened by Toni's brazenness on the phone. How dare she think she could just call and have me agree that she could go and fuck some guy!
Bitch! Whore! Slut!
But I was also fascinated by the whole thing. I was sexually excited. That made me a little sick, too, I remember. I wondered if there was something wrong with me.
Here I was, sitting there getting some enjoyment, some pleasure, out of my wife's outrageous conduct. I couldn't believe it. I felt weak. My cock was still hard as a rock. I stroked it.
What was this combination of feelings? Outrage, curiosity, love, hate, anxiety, uncertainty: all those emotions and more flooded through me. And then there was pure, physical longing. I could not wait for Toni to return so I could satisfy these conflicting longings.
Finally, I looked at the clock and realized that it had been over two hours since Toni broke off the phone conversation. It hit me! I realized that this man had fucked her by now. Otherwise, she would have called or returned home.
She had betrayed our marriage vows. Oh yes, she would say that because I did not insist that she not do it, I had agreed that she should do it.
I cried, I actually cried. As I was crying, I hoped she would not come home and see me that way. Then I hope she would! Then I changed my mind. I didn't want her to come home till I could look less worried and concerned.
But I wanted her home in the worst way. I wondered what she was thinking at that moment?
Had she thought of me at all? Would she have any concept of the horrible hell this was for me? This was pure pain.
I went into the bathroom and washed my face and hands. My hands had been sticky with cum that I had not wiped off onto my handkerchief. I went back into the living room and settled in front of the TV. I wanted to appear casual and not panicky when she got home.
Another hour passed. Damn! Was she going to fuck him all night?
Just then, I heard the car. The garage door opened. Then I heard it close. I heard the kitchen door open and shut and her heels on the tile floor. I turned and she came into the family room.
She had a sheepish look on her face. I soon knew that she was a little drunk. It had never occurred to me that she would be driving after drinking too much. I had been so worried about her fucking that guy that I had forgotten that she could get hurt in a traffic accident. She is not able to handle more than a few drinks.
Maybe the drinks caused her to let down her defenses. Maybe the fucking was not really her fault.