[AUTHOR'S NOTE: Clearly, lots of guys don't get the slutwife fetish. They are too insecure with themselves to allow their wife or girlfriend to realize her true self, and really enjoy life. So many guys think women are possessions, so when you have a hot one, other men can't and shouldn't touch her. If she's really, really a sexual creature -- and some women are, not all, but some -- then you're depriving her of fulfilling her true happiness. That doesn't make you a man, does it? So for all of you who think guys like me are pathetic wimps who should be put out of our misery -- check out the comments to the "Brian" story previously posted -- I would just say, who's the real man who's secure with himself and his lover? Huh? Is it more macho to be disgusted that your wife wants to fuck other men -- or to recognize that we're all human, we have positives and negatives, and your wife might actually have good reactions with other men but that doesn't mean she doesn't love you. Be a man, face reality, you're not perfect. No one is. That's the point of this story here.]
"So I think I'm going to end up sleeping over at Tim's tonight, so don't wait up." My petite, younger Asian wife smiled across the room at me as she slipped her purse over her shoulder. Her eyes particularly fell on my five-and-a-half inch hardon sticking out of my lap from my unzipped pants, as I still sat on the sofa, not having moved for the last minute. Her voice tone energetic, even as she tried to sound apologetic. "Sorry."
Ever her adoring husband, worshiping everything about my incredibly sweet, sexy and slutty wife, I made sure to remain grinning at her. She was in a rush to get to her boyfriend's house, which was about thirty minutes away with traffic. Apparently he was naked on his bed, his eight inches of fat married cock waiting for her, and Kitty had a pussy craving that dick. "I don't have to hope you two have fun," I quipped, my voice calm and steady, "I'm sure you're going to be screaming in pleasure for several hours tonight."
Kitty was already looking for the keys to her black VW Beetle, which we called her "fuck bug" because she mainly would drive her present from me when she was going to meet one of her several boyfriends or some other Internet stud for sex. "Ohhh, I really hope so." She tugged up on her tight, hip-hugger jeans, getting them to fit even more closely around her little butt and sexy, slender thighs.
But despite my smiling face and even-keel tone, inside, I was disappointed in myself.
As usual, of course, I loved how excited my wife was about impending sex with a really well-equipped man. She had been disappointed this evening when I got home from work, because one of her other boyfriends -- Patrick, a guy she really, really worships and loves -- had to cancel on her, due to some family event or overtime work or something. Kitty put on lots of makeup for Patrick, wore her extra-tight jeans and an equally, tight, too-small white blouse over black bra, and her pussy had been aching all afternoon in anticipating of her date. All of that positive energy sank into disappointment when Patrick called to cancel. So Tim's just-completed phonecall -- telling her that his wife had to go out of town, so he was completely free all night for Kitty to come over -- turned her emotions around 180 degrees. Now, after all, she really was going to get to see another man she adores, whom she loves to spend time with, and who fucked her about ten times better than I can myself.
I'm not a regular guy, I mean, how many guys get sexually aroused because their wives fuck other men; and, specifically, better-looking, bigger-dicked men? I am not anywhere near as fit as her boyfriends, although at 43 years old, I'm just about the age of most of them. I'm so-so "cute" or "handsome" to some women, but I don't think any female has ever looked at me and melted. Still, Kitty loves being with me, for some women, personality does count. Proof positive, she left her first husband for me two years ago, she married me last year (a week after both of our divorces were finalized), she comes home to me every time after dates with her boyfriends and fuck-buddies. Truth is, however, if I didn't let her be herself -- the cock-loving fuckslut that she is -- she and I wouldn't be together. So her slutty adventures were not only a turn-on for her and for me, but they were a necessary part of my relationship with her.
Sitting there on the sofa, my erection exposed as my wife was just about to leave for the night to be with one of her sexy boyfriends, I had an emotion I hated. I just fucking hated feeling it. Jealousy? Anger? No, it was something else -- more like a depression. Hatred of myself. I've accepted who I am, the good and bad, and somehow it's gotten me married to the most beautiful woman I've ever met, a 29-year old, petite Chinese-American with a small frame, proportionate A-cup titties, long black hair, large brown, slanted eyes, and a loving heart that wouldn't hurt a fly. Still, because I am me, my wife suddenly interrupted the start of a passionate sex session with her husband, to jump at the chance for a night with her beefcake stud-muffin boyfriend.
I think I really wanted to fuck her. At first, when I got home after my long day at work and tedious commute, she was antsy waiting for Patrick to come pick her up, they were going to go to dinner then a motel room to fuck. (Patrick thinks she's cheating on me. He probably wouldn't touch her if he knew the real Kitty.) When he called and cancelled, she pouted in disappiontment, but turned her energy to me. We started kissing, groping, and she unzipped my pants and was stroking my smallish meat.
That's when Tim called.
She apologized to take her cellphone, which chirped with a selected ringtone that meant one of her boyfriends was alling. A toothy white smile crossed her triangular, flat, gorgeous face. "Oh, hi!" she chirped into the phone. "No, um, nothing -- I'm just sitting here -- what's going on, honey?" She kept her other hand on my dick, holding it, possibly stroking it a little, but she was listening to Tim talking. I didn't hear a word of his, but my wife's attitude suddenly changed completely. "Oh my god -- seriously? You're serious? Wow -- well, yeah, that's great!" Her hand came off of my penis as she sat upright more on the sofa. "So, what are you gonna do . . . oh, really?" Changing on a dime, her voice became husky, sexual. "You are, huh, just for me? Mmmm, that sounds delicious. Are you . . . ohhh, yeah, baby, definitely, stroke it -- no, wait!" The high-pitch energy returned to her voice. She was juking around like a running back. "Wait, don't touch it, don't touch it! Wait, I'll be there, yeah -- let me come over, and take care of that awesome hot cock!"
Her beautiful Asian face whirled to look at me, grinning into the cellphone, as her eyes sought out my reaction to her conversation. She knew her husband loved her fucking other men. "Mmm, that sounds sooo good -- so I can stay all night huh . . . Wow, definitely, I know we haven't done that before, it'll be our first time, baby, yeah . . . oh yeah, I'll bring my toothbrush too . . . mmm, I can't wait, so, like, don't move -- I'll get there as fast as I can!"
She snapped the phone shut, slipping it into the tight pocket of her jeans on her little rump, and smacked both of her hands on her knees. "Well, guess what?" Her eyes looked at my aroused small penis, then at my face. "That was Tim -- his wife had to, like, go out of town all of a sudden, he's alone -- and, um, on his bed, with his big fat cock waiting for me."
Again glancing to my penis, I could see she was struggling with her choice. I knew what her body wanted; her heart, however, probably had a different reaction. I doubt she was "torn." I think, really, she would have stayed if I had asked. I'm certain of that. She'd said to me, many times in the past since we've lived together, that all I had to do was tell her to cancel a date or something. But really, she was saying that to be sweet, she didn't want to hurt my feelings. She's a slut, she wants to fuck huge cocks, it's in her nature. That's why I married her.
So I had to take care of that look in her eyes. I wanted Kitty to be happy; I would feel terrible if I made her feel like she was missing out on something she wanted.
"Well, then what are you waiting for?" I said to her, reaching out to nudge her off of the sofa. "Sounds like there's a huge, hard cock waiting for you to jump on it." I laughed, "don't forget your toothbrush!"
