From the dark corner of the bar, I watched as my wife, Sarah, was chatted up by a strange man. They sat close together in the booth, and Sarah was clearly enjoying his attentions, laughing at his jokes, and frequently putting her hand on his when she did so. Once every few minutes or so, she shot a glance in my direction.
I was wired tight with nervous tension as I observed this man clearly scoring with my wife. I could tell from their positions and postures that they touched under the table. Maybe just hand on leg. Maybe more. I felt excited but I couldn't tell if it was with anticipation, regret, or both. How far would she take this? How far would I let her?
She glanced over at me, drinking from her gin and tonic (which she held with her left hand despite being right-handed - what was she doing with her right hand under that table?). I could tell she was trying to communicate something to me with that look. She downed her drink and suddenly got up from the table and started towards the dance floor, and he followed right behind her, grabbing her hand. Once on the floor, he danced against her from behind, with his arms on her hips as they gyrated together to the beat. She let her head fall back against his chest and reached her hands above her head to interlace her fingers behind his neck, so that her body was stretched out and available as his hands slid up from her hips, to the sides of her belly, the edges of her breasts.
I was consumed with burning jealousy. I had an aching hard-on.
The plan for this little adventure had been a couple of months in the making. The seed of it was a major crisis in our marriage that had very nearly ended in our divorce. I had found incriminating texts on her phone. She had been secretly texting, and meeting, another man. She denied that it was anything sexual, but agreed that it was a betrayal, and begged forgiveness. I wasn't sure I believed that it hadn't gotten sexual (why else does a married woman secretly meet another man?), and anyway it didn't matter - she had betrayed my trust in a way I wasn't sure I could ever forgive. Also, I knew that if I hadn't found out and confronted her, it would have eventually become a sexual affair. If it hadn't already.
After I suffered about a week of painful contemplation about what she had done, and about whether or not I should leave, I found a note under my pillow. It was from her, and in it she detailed all of her favorite moments with me. It was touching and thoughtful, and it was enough, along with my desire to stay together for our children's sake, to make me decide to give it another try. Things would have to change, though. Especially the sex.
Our sex life, as is common, had gradually cooled over the years of marriage, to the point where it was almost totally extinguished. Our lives hadn't turned out how we thought. When we married, I was doing postgraduate work in comparative literature. Now I was working as a taxi driver. It was a little humiliating. We felt more like roommates than lovers. If our marriage was going to work, this was going to have to change. I sent the kids to their grandparents' for a few days, and told Sarah that we were going to fuck like mad and that would tell us whether or not we'd be able to go on.
It was the best sex we'd ever had. We tried positions we'd never tried, and exchanged frank, filthy talk that was uncharacteristic of both of us. Having nothing to lose, we exposed ourselves totally to each other. Her betrayal had shaken me out of my illusions about her. I had previously thought of her as totally innocent and virtuous - she had been a virgin before we were married. Now I saw her as a real flesh and blood woman with all the needs of a woman. Like the need for a good, hot fuck every now and then. I even began to pity her for only ever having had one lover her whole life (we married when she was just twenty one).
In this atmosphere of unrestrained lust and honesty, I admitted that, as angry and hurt as I was by her betrayal, I was also very turned on by the thought of her wanting another man so badly that she would risk everything to satisfy that lust. The inevitable visions and images that must come to the mind of every cuckold had come to me: I imagined her sucking him off, them 69ing each other, him fucking her in various positions, and her moaning in ecstasy, begging him to fuck her harder, grabbing his ass to force his cock yet further inside her. These visions made me burn with anger and hurt, and also made me hard as iron and dripping with precum.
Finally I admitted to her, and to myself, my most hidden fantasy: I wanted to watch her fuck another man. She seemed genuinely shocked. She insisted that she had no desire to fuck another man, but I thought it likely that she was playing it safe, fearing a trap as we tried to navigate the crisis of her betrayal. After all, if she had no desire to fuck another man, we wouldn't have been in that situation.. She encouraged me to tell her everything about my fantasy, and while she tried not to seem to excited by this revelation, when I touched her pussy after I told her all about it, she was sopping wet. She was as turned on as I was.
For a while, just the two of us fantasizing and talking about hypothetical scenarios was enough to lead us to the hottest sex we'd ever had. But the more I got off on the thought of it, the more I wanted to actually try it. I got the sense that, though she denied it, she felt the same way. On the other hand, we both wanted to do this in baby steps rather than dive in from a bedroom fantasy to a full-on cuckolding experience. That's when the plan began to form.
Owning a taxi meant that I owned the perfect space where she could experiment with flirtation and the first stages of sexual intimacy with a stranger in a private space with me present to protect her, and, of course, to watch. She and a stranger could, hypothetically, get in my cab and, while I drove, do... well, we'd see. We agreed that the absolute limit of this experiment would be oral sex - but we both agreed it was unlikely that we would both let it go that far. Just a little kissing and groping would be plenty hot. We worked out signals to let each other know that we were uncomfortable, and that things needed to be slowed down or stopped. The encounter would be totally supervised and in our control.
It seemed an eternity that they had danced, grinded, and groped. I was sure my underwear were soaked in precum, and my mind was torn. Finally, after a subtle but unmistakable exploration of his crotch with one hand, she swivelled around, and planted her now lust-swollen lips on his, and I could see her shove her tongue in his mouth. She leaned up on tiptoe to speak a few words in his ear, and then watched his face for his reaction. He smiled and nodded slowly but emphatically, while he held her hips tight against his and stroked her ass. She kissed him again, and then strode briskly toward the bathroom. On the way there, she rubbed her left earlobe: my sign to get into position.
I downed my beer and pushed through the crowd (uncomfortably with my formidable hard-on) to the exit. In order to calm my whirling mind, I tried to focus on the task at hand. Get to the cab, drive it into position - left of the entrance to the club a little bit, so I could drive up when they got out. Then they'd get in. What then? Jesus. I had had enough already with Sarah's display on the dance floor with the stranger. I just wanted to bring her home and fuck her brains out. So what would I do? I could give her one of our prearranged signals as soon as they got in the car: we agreed that: if I wanted her to stop what she was doing, or was about to do, and reign it in a little, I would changed the radio station. Then she could continue making out with him, but with the limits established by my "radio signal". On the other hand, if I wanted it to end entirely, I would covertly send her a text. She'd get the text and say her husband was home and needed her right away, and that would be it. By the time I got to the car, I had decided I was going to send her the text right away. I got in the car, and took out my phone. Just as I was about to send the text, I saw them exit the club. He had his arm around her waist and was kissing her neck. She was scanning the parking lot for me. When she found me, she gave me a conspiratorial look and very happy smile.
Fuck. I couldn't just cancel it now. I started this - to put her in this position and then stop it cold would be cruel - the worst kind of tease. And it would be weak. Fuck it. I had to be strong and let her have a little more fun. It's not like I wasn't turned on. I adjusted my cock into the least uncomfortable position I could manage, started up the car, and drove up.
He opened the door for her and she got in, risking a quick, affectionate stroke of my arm with her hand, and a whispered "Love you," before he followed her in.
"Where to?" I asked.
She gave the address we agreed on - a place somewhere out in the sticks, about a half-hour's drive away, and then he was all over her, kissing her lips, ear and neck as his hands roamed all over her body. She sighed contentedly, checking to see if I was okay by my look in the rear-view mirror. I started the engine.
On the road, things only heated up, and I saw her lower her hand to the substantial bulge in his crotch. I tilted the mirror for a better view. He let out a restrained sigh as she began rubbing him, and then he put his hand on her knee and caressed it, subtly moving his caress up her thigh. As her skirt began to move up her leg with his caressing, she moaned and shoved her tongue in his mouth, rubbing more vigorously on his crotch.
It was hard to keep my eyes on the road. She had positioned herself and him in the center of the seat so I had the best possible view. When his hand had made its way just to edge of her pussy she put her hand on it suddenly and broke the kiss. She looked at me in the rear-view mirror, and I could tell she was giving me a chance to stop it, and I could tell she hoped like hell I wouldn't. I debated: I wanted to stop it, I was going mad with jealousy; on the other hand, I was unimaginably turned on. Also, she was giving me this chance out of pity. I didn't want to seem to need her pity.
I nodded.
She sat back and put her left hand on his crotch this time so that she could offer more of her body to him and relax as he enjoyed her. As she rubbed his bulge, his hand resumed his progress, this time slipping underneath her skirt to what I knew was her pantiless pussy. She breathed heavily for a few minutes as his hand worked away on her pussy.
Suddenly she sat up, pushed his hand away and kissed him on the mouth for a moment before reaching down to his pants with her right hand and undoing just the top button before again looking me in the eye through the rear view mirror.
Fuck this, I thought. She's had her fun. We'd gone far enough for our first time. I didn't think I'd be able to handle watching her blow this guy as I drove their cab. Let him finger her to climax, then I'd send the text, we'd drop him off somewhere, and Sarah could give ME that blow job. Just as I was about to reach for the radio to give the signal, he spoke.
"What are you worried about? Him? He doesn't mind, do you driver?"
Both their eyes on me now.
