It Was My Idea

I shouldn't have been surprised, after all, it was my idea. For years I'd told her that it would be possible to become attracted to another man, and it would be ok with me to act on her fantasies if the situation should arise. I encouraged her to be open to it. Frankly, the idea excited me.

That's how we enhanced our lovemaking as man and wife, sharing each others' fantasies and exploring each others minds. And that's how I found myself, unexpectedly alone, certain that my wife was out with another man.

It was a Wednesday. We had gone to dinner with a couple of friends. But when we left home, she told me that she wanted to be home by 10 PM. She said there was a man at work who had been flirting with her, and she found herself very attracted him. I'd heard his name, knew he was divorced, and even that he was engaged to be married in the coming months. But that didn't matter. He was going to be at a bar later in the evening, and invited her to stop by, and she accepted.

Butterflies filled my stomach but, as requested, I had her home by ten. She went straight to her closet and changed into a pair of tight black slacks over her panties and pantyhose, and a green sweater. I could see that she was excited, perhaps my watching her change contributed. It was an outfit she knew I liked, one that really accentuated her sexy figure. By 10:30 she was ready to leave. I told her to have fun, not thinking of any particular meaning. What else could I say?

The house was quiet. I was anxious about what this would mean for our relationship, but I was also incredibly aroused. She said she was going to meet him at the bar for a drink. But what else might happen? My imagination ran wild.

I fell asleep around 1:00 and didn't hear her return. At 4:00 I woke up and noticed that I was still alone in bed. I got up and looked out. Her car was in the driveway.

There was an armchair in the den and when I walked in, that was where I found her. Slumped, asleep, for how long I couldn't tell. But her slacks were unzipped and pushed halfway down her legs, and her right hand was inside her panties and pantyhose. She was very sound asleep. Clearly she had been drinking, I could smell vodka on her breath. I could see the dark spot on her slacks, where they’d gotten wet pressed between her legs. I touched it, then knelt down, and sniffed it.

I imagined that she came home pretty drunk and needed to finish something that had so obviously been started. Then she must have fallen asleep in the chair. She had that look, like she'd just climaxed, and passed out.

I was rock hard. Before falling asleep, wondering what she was doing, I resisted the urge to masturbate. Kneeling before her, I resisted again. I gently shook her awake.

She gained a semblance of consciousness. I urged her to come to bed and helped her undress. The sweater came over her head while she was still sitting. Her bra was askew, half off her breast. I removed it. I unstrapped her heels, and helped pull her slacks off. Before she stood up, I helped her lift her hips and slid down the hose and panties.

I picked up her slacks and pulled her to her feet. I pressed the slacks to my nose, where they were wet, and inhaled the evidence of whatever had happened to her earlier. I became eager to know.

In bed she told me. He was at the bar with a friend. He bought her a vodka and tonic and then another. Alcohol loosens her inhibitions. She loves flirting. I've watched her do it at parties, and I imagine they got quite a show. She told me she danced for them, and rubbed herself against them, particularly the guy who had invited her.

The other fellow left, and she became more intimate with her friend. I’m sure he knew what her presence there meant. After a while she said she had to get going before she got too drunk. He walked her to her car.

She got in her car, and he got into the passenger's side. He took her in his arms and kissed her, and she didn't protest.

She told me they made out for quite some time, and the windows became all fogged over. He had his hand under her sweater and bra, but he never went inside her slacks, at least that's what she said. I believed her, because otherwise, why would I have found her as I did?

She knew it was getting late, and they both had work the next day. She remembered driving home, but was blank from the time she came in the door. She had no recollection of masturbating, even though I’m sure she did.

She was still half asleep, but my hard on was raging. She was still very wet, perhaps from recounting her tale, and I got on top and entered her. I kissed her mouth and her breasts, knowing that another man's hands and mouth had been there only hours ago.

I had brought her slacks with us into the bedroom, and I arranged them on the pillow, next to her head, so that I could bury my face in the crotch as I fucked her. Her scent on the wet slacks was the most incredible aphrodisiac! I came hard, once, and yet was still hard. She barely moved, but it didn't matter. I began thrusting again and filled her with a second load, and shortly we both were sound asleep.

In the morning I did it again, with enthusiastic participation on her part, and I rewarded her by pressing my face between hers legs and eating her to orgasm! Eating my sexy slut!

After work the next day she told me that she was meeting him Friday afternoon to consummate the lust they had ignited in the car. She asked if I was ok with it. With some trepidation I said yes. I told her to go ahead, but I asked her to let me help select her clothes, and I asked her, to whatever extent possible, to have him make love to her through, or under her clothes.

After work Friday she went to his house. I didn't make her dress like a slut, but I had her wear a skirt and blouse, with a matching bra and panties underneath, and instead of pantyhose, a garter belt and stockings. I knew he’d appreciate it.

The outfit made her quite accessible to him, and he was so eager that she had him on his living room sofa, with her blouse open, skirt lifted and her panties pulled aside. They performed oral on each other and fucked twice, and when she came home I knew from the way her clothes and hair were mussed and disheveled.

She gave me a crooked smile. I asked if he was good, but I could see from her face that he was. My slut stood there, watching me get hard in my pants. I grabbed her arm and brought her to our bedroom where, for the second time that afternoon, she lifted her skirt and pulled her panties aside.

She was so wet. Her panties dark and slippery. She still had her diaphragm inside. I knew what I would find there with it. The sex was great. Whatever was going through her head at that moment only made her more eager for me. I opened her blouse and pushed the bra up, biting at her nipples. She thrust her pelvis against me like she never had before, and very quickly, shook with an orgasm.

I loved having her tell me what they did, and we spoke about it in bed, but otherwise things seemed unchanged. I waited, not knowing what the future would bring, but unwilling to influence it in the present.