My Husband Was That Way Too

I was crying myself to sleep as my husband Chuck snored loudly beside me. For what seemed the thousandth time I had gone over the same ugly story that began when I got married six months ago. I always ended up with the same conclusion. Actually not a conclusion but a question: Was my husband gay?

I had met Chuck in college where we began dating in our senior year. I fell in love with him almost from the first date because he was so sweet and loving, always putting me first in everything.

I did not engage in casual sex in college. In fact I didn't engage in sex at all except for two occasions when I drank too much and found myself naked in the back seat of a car getting my brains fucked out. After those two experiences I was very careful about how much I drank. Obviously I had a problem keeping my legs together when I was drunk. Several other girls in Sigma Kappa had the same problem.

When Chuck proposed to me he confessed to having had an affair before he met me and then he asked me about my sexual experience. I told him about what had happened to me. He asked me about it several times and wanted to hear all the details. I was embarrassed but I told him most of what happened - not all.

After we got married, sex was okay for a while but then it tapered off. Why? That was when I started crying myself to sleep night after night.

Tonight after I reviewed the whole thing once again I finally made a decision I had avoided as long as I could. I was gonna check him out. The moment I made that decision my crying stopped and I went to sleep.

The next day after he went to work I sat down at his desk and turned on his computer. Chuck was always on the computer. The guys at work called him "Computer Chuck" because he could tame any computer.

I felt like I was betraying him by doing this but I wanted to check out his e-mail. If he were gay there might be something there. I needed a password. How can I find out what it is?

I knew two passwords he had picked so maybe they would give me a clue. We had a debit card and he had picked "Daisy89." We had a lockbox in the closet and the password was "Lassie90."

Lassie was the name of a dog in an old movie and Daisy was the name of the comic strip dog belonging to Blondie and Dagwood. Chuck was born in 1989 and I was born in 1990. Okay I'm looking for a dog's name followed by 89 or 90 - maybe!

I got out an old photo album from his childhood. Looking through it I found a picture of him with a dog and under the picture was written, "Chuck and Buddy."

I went back to his computer and tried "Buddy89" and BINGO! The computer opened. I went on line and checked his e-mail. Nothing. Well, I thought, no boyfriends. Then I keyed the "History" button and I got a ton of stuff from different websites.

The most frequently visited site was one with pornographic stories. There were hundreds of hits on a female author named Lynn and her stories about wives who cuckolded their husbands. My God! Was my husband turned on by stories about wives who fucked other men? I needed help.

Living next door to us was an older woman, about sixty, with whom I had talked on numerous occasions. She was a widow. Recently she noticed I was upset and asked if anything was bothering me.

Late that afternoon I saw her in her back yard and went over.

"Hi Lydia," I said. "Yesterday you asked if something was bothering me. I DO have a problem. Come over to my place. I need to ask you about something."

We sat on the patio behind our house and I offered her a drink. She asked for a Macallan 12 - my favorite single malt. When we got settled I began my tale of woe. I told her that I had discovered pornography on my husband's computer.

"What kind of pornography?" Lydia asked.

"Stories about wives who are unfaithful to their husbands," I replied.

"Any stories about husbands watching their wives having sex with other men?" Lydia asked.

"Oh yes," I said. "In very great detail!"

"Has your husband ever asked you about the sex that you had with other guys before you got married?"

"Let me tell you about something that happened to me in college," I said.

I recounted in detail what had happened and then I told her about Chuck questioning me again and again about those two episodes. She nodded knowingly as I talked.

"Did he fuck you after you told him about your college experiences?"

I told her that he had always made love afterward. I said I thought at the time he was trying to reassure me of his love.

When I finished she looked off into space silently, almost sadly, before replying.

"My husband was that way too," she said softly.

"That way? What way?" I asked.

She reached over and put her hand on my arm tenderly as she spoke.

"You see Grace, some men are turned on by the fantasy of watching the woman they love having sex with another man. It has to be a common fantasy because it's on every porn site. I'm sure wives with husbands who are that way don't want to talk about it - I certainly NEVER talked about my husband."

I sat there numb. It fit everything I knew about Chuck. I remembered the great sex we had after I explained the details of those two drunken experiences. Telling him about fucking those two guys had turned him on! Then I suddenly got scared.

"Lydia did you fuck other guys for Bob to watch?" I asked fearfully.

"Oh no," she said with a chuckle, almost a loving chuckle. "I read stuff on porn sites and made up stories to tell him. I'd go to a movie and come home and tell him I'd been to a bar and picked up a stud and fucked him in his car. I had a firm rule: Hubby NEVER got to watch"

"Oh my God," I said. "And you did this for years?"

"I did it for thirty years," Lydia said. "One story would last two or three months. Bob kept trying to persuade me to let him watch but of course I always told him he couldn't."

"What if Chuck insists on watching?" I asked.

"I did a lot of reading about these guys," Lydia said. "They are NOT the dominant kind of guy. You can easily take charge of their sex lives."

"How do I do that?" I asked.

"Just whisper a dirty story in his ear Grace and he'll start playin with his peter. You can control him as long as you have juicy stories to tell him. I'll help you. It'll be fun to hear how you're doing."

"But how do I get started?" I asked.

"That's easy. It's called the BIG CONFESSION."

"So tell me exactly," I said.

"When you told him about those two guys you fucked when you were drunk did you tell him you had orgasms?"

"Of course not!" I said angrily.

"But you DID have orgasms didn't you?"

This is embarrassing, I thought - very embarrassing. I don't want to tell her the truth but I guess I have to.

"Well ... ah ... I tried to forget about that. I was very drunk and ... well ... you know."

"Were they good orgasms?"

"Well ... you see ... "

I couldn't forget those orgasms because ever since then when I used my vibrator I fantasized about them. Getting drunk with a strange guy, getting horny, and then getting fucked like a whore was my favorite vibrator fantasy.

"Tell me Grace! Were they big orgasms?" Lydia said insistently.

Better tell her, I thought.

"Yeah they were very big orgasms. Multiple orgasms - one after another. Better than anything I've ever had with Chuck. But I was very drunk and ... well ... I just couldn't help it - my pelvis just exploded."

"There's your big confession. Some night after you go to bed tell him you have a confession to make and when he asks you what it is you tell him that you had big orgasms with those two guys but never told him about it because you were so ashamed. See what his reaction is. If he gets sexually aroused then he wants to be your cuckold."

"Okay. I'll try it out tonight," I said.

That night I made sure that Chuck had plenty to drink and after we went to bed I hit him with my "big confession." Lydia was right! Chuck kept asking me for more details and I told him the story about how horny I got when I was drunk. Chuck got a hard on and began masturbating. He just seemed to lose control and have no shame as he pounded his peter with his balls slapping him in the ass.

After he pumped a load of semen up on his belly I kept talking and he got hard again. I pulled him on top of me and Chuck gave me a really good fuck - rougher than usual but I still had an orgasm.

The next afternoon Lydia came over with a chilled bottle of chardonnay and we sat on the patio and I told her the whole story.

"It sounds like you got him hooked," Lydia said. "Now you gotta find out what he wants to hear. Maybe he wants the stud to be hairy, or muscular, or uncircumcised, or really hung, or extra rough with you ... or ... well, maybe even a black guy."

Black guys! Shit! I remembered a gal named Hannah Roberts in Sigma Kappa talking about the size of black cocks she'd sucked.

"What you want to do is figure out the fantasy he has in his head using the questions he asks you. Then recreate that fantasy for him with imaginary guys after the two college guys don't get him horny enough. Cuckolds need to hear new stuff regularly."

I'd been worrying about Chuck and feeling a little bit guilty deceiving him. I wondered if Lydia had felt that way with her husband. I asked her.

"Of course I did Grace! At first that is, but not after I thought the whole thing through. Wives do things to sexually excite their husbands: make their tits bigger, shave their pubic hair, walk around the house naked, and some things even crazier than that. Making up stories that turn on their husbands is just another way to do what wives are supposed to do - keep hubby horny."

"I guess you're right." I said, feeling a little better. "But it's still kinda make-believe."

"All sex is ninety percent make-believe honey. But it brings two people in love together and that's what counts."

"How long will these two guys last?" I asked.

"Hard to say," Lydia said. "He'll probably keep coming back to them but he may need someone else after a couple of months or so."

"Then what do I do?"

"You make up a story Grace. Just make up a story. Use something that you know turns him on. When you're talking about those guys what seems to turn him on the most?"

I thought about her question and remembered something that made him tremble. It was when I talked about getting so drunk and so horny that I couldn't say no and then I got fucked like a whore.

"Turning into a whore when I got drunk. That really turned him on."

"Okay keep using variations on that story and when he needs something else have another variation of the story ready - same story with different guys."

"For instance?"

"Do what I did. Tell him some night that you're gonna dress up like a whore and visit a bar. There's a bar called "Jimmy's" south of town next to a strip club. He'll know about it. You just go to a movie but when you get back tell him you went to Jimmy's and met a guy who had been watching naked girls all evening. Then you got drunk, got horny, and went out to his car and got fucked."

"Will he believe me," I asked.

"He'll believe you Grace because he WANTS to believe you."

Well, that story will be easy to tell, I thought. It's my vibrator fantasy: getting drunk, getting horny, and then getting laid. Like with those two guys in college.

I followed her advice. The story about the two guys worked great but a couple of months later Chuck seemed to slow down a bit and I used Lydia's story about going to Jimmy's Bar one night when he was away on a business trip. My God! Chuck fucked me like a satyr. He wanted to hear about it over and over in every detail.

This was still hard to understand. Chuck loved me - I was sure of that. Yet he wanted to hear about me fucking other guys. Jesus! Suddenly the thought hit me like a truck! I could fuck any guy I wanted and TELL him about it and it would turn him on. I needed to talk to Lydia about that. The next day I went over to see her.

When I told her what I had been thinking she started to giggle.

"You know what they say about cuckolds. When you're unfaithful they don't get mad, they get horny," she said and burst out laughing.

I laughed with her. It WAS funny but it was true. I could fuck anybody I wanted to and Chuck would just get horny.

"But you're right Grace. You can have all the boyfriends you want. I thought about it."

"Did you do it?" I asked.

She paused and looked down at the floor.

Finally she spoke softly, "Not very often. But it's a freedom that very few women enjoy and sometimes I just couldn't resist a really good-looking stud. So I fucked some guys, but I always felt very guilty."

Then she laughed a loud, sexy, musical laugh and said, "But hubby enjoyed the true stories just as much as the ones I made up."

After a couple of months I knew the time had come for a new story. I used a variation on the one I had used before: Jimmy's Bar while he was out of town. It worked wonders again.

But a couple of months later he started urging me to visit Jimmy's again. I was starting to feel neglected in bed, but he had no business trips planned. I guess I gotta pretend to go there, I thought, if I wanna get my needy pussy serviced.

That night I dressed up like a whore in spikes, a really short miniskirt, and a low cut blouse that showed a lot of tit. I left the house in my car headed for a movie but realized I had forgotten my cellphone.

As I came around the block to go back to the house I saw Chuck come out of the driveway. Shit! Where's he going? I followed him at a distance. Suddenly I realized he was headed for Jimmy's Bar.

Oh my God! What now, I thought? I can't just go to a movie. I've got to go to Jimmy's as I told him I would. Otherwise he'll know I been lying to him. And I'm dressed like a whore!

Chuck's car was in the parking lot at Jimmy's but he was nowhere to be seen. I figured he was back in the dark part of the room. I went in and sat at the end of the bar next to the wall. I need a drink to get through this, I thought. I'll stay here for a couple of drinks and then go home.

"Macallan 12," I said to the bartender. "On the rocks."

A guy about thirty was sitting at the other end of the bar. He smiled and I looked away. Shit! This place is loaded with guys. Most of 'em seem to be either old or fat but the guy that smiled at me is good looking - a real hunk.

I looked over at him again and he smiled. I tried not to smile but he got up and headed for the empty chair on my right. Shit! I need another drink! I waved to the bartender and pointed at my empty glass.

"My name is Roger," the guy said as he sat down next to me and slipped a business card into my purse. "What's yours?"

"Grace," I said nervously, trying not to smile at him. Maybe he'll go away.

I looked back in the club and realized that somewhere back there in the darkness Chuck was watching this whole thing. He didn't know I knew he was there and he was expecting me to get picked up and fucked. He thought I'd done it twice before in this bar and now he wants me to do it again. And he wants to watch it happen!

Somehow I gotta get rid of this guy. The bartender brought me my second drink and checked out my cleavage. I was so nervous that I drank it down almost in a single swallow. My God I thought, I'm gonna get drunk if I keep this up. Roger signaled the bartender to get me another.

The third drink went down faster than I intended and I tried to slow down on the fourth. I was starting to feel a buzz. I hadn't drunk so much so fast since those two times in college. And both of those times I got fucked.

"There's a lot of fat guys in this place," I said with a giggle. It was the first thing that popped into my head. This is crazy, I told myself. I want him to leave me alone. How do I make him leave?

"Yeah and old guys too," Roger said. "They've all been next door."

I gotta say something. What?

"Next door looking at naked girls," I said.

Shit! That's the wrong thing to say. That scotch is getting to me. Before I knew what I was doing I had finished the fourth scotch.

Oh my God! Chuck was watching me drink with a strange man. I told him I got drunk and then horny those two times I got picked up here - just like in college. He thinks I'm gonna do the same thing tonight.

I gotta say something sarcastic to discourage this guy.

"Were you over there looking at naked girls too?" I asked.

Then I giggled. What is happening to me? Why am I giggling?

He nodded, leaned closer, and put his left arm around my shoulder. I didn't want Chuck to see me push him away so I had to leave his arm there.

"You were looking at beavers," I said trying to sound sarcastic.

But then I giggled. That silly giggle again! Shit! I can't control myself!

"Oh yeah," he said. "It's beaver city over there and some of that beaver is for sale."

"Have you bought any?" I asked hoping to insult him, but giggling again.

Shit! Why am I talking about beavers?

"Buying beaver is not my style," he replied. "I prefer a needy housewife."

"And just how do you find a needy housewife?" I asked, again with that drunken giggle that I couldn't seem to control.

"She'll be sitting at this bar alone, wearing a wedding ring, and she smiles back."

Shit! The bastard thinks I'm a needy housewife with a neglected pussy hoping to get the damn thing serviced. Well, why shouldn't he think that! I'm dressed like a whore and I let him put his arm around me. This handsome dude has probably serviced his share of needy housewives. I'm gonna have trouble getting rid of him.

Suddenly I felt something on my thigh. I looked down and saw Roger's right hand gently rubbing my inner thigh under my miniskirt. Shit! I've got to leave it there! No way can I get mad when I told Chuck I came here to get picked up.

I was trapped! I wanted to get up and run but then Chuck would find out the whole thing was an act. Then he'd know I lied to him. The bartender placed another scotch in front of me and I started to sip it. I don't wanna get drunk, I thought. If I get drunk I'm gonna get horny just like in college.

Roger was still stroking my thigh slowly moving his hand higher. I felt my miniskirt start to creep up. I got a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach. Why is this bartender pouring such big drinks? Maybe I AM getting drunk. Oh shit!

Roger moved his hand higher up my thigh and shifted his body to conceal what he was doing. Then I felt a finger slip under the elastic band of my panties and I spread my legs a little.

Spread my legs? Shit! Why did I spread my legs for him?

Why the hell did I do that?

Suddenly I heard a voice inside my head answer that question: "You did it Grace because you're getting drunk and you're getting horny and you want your pussy played with."

Well, I got my wish. I was dripping wet and Roger slipped his finger into me. What the hell, I thought. It's too late to stop drinking now. I'm already drunk! I lifted up to make it easy for him, spread my legs wider, and felt my miniskirt move all the way up over my hips.

He got his thumb on my clit, slid two fingers into a very wet pussy, and began to move his hand with a gentle rhythm. Oh my God that feels good! Chuck has been neglecting that damn thing for a month. Jesus I need to fuck - I really need to fuck!

It was at that moment that I realized it was too late. Roger was gonna get exactly what he was looking for: A needy housewife with a neglected pussy!

Roger's body shielded me from the people on our right and there was a wall on my left, but the bartender had a clear view. As he brought my next drink I saw his eyes look down and stare. I dropped my eyes to see what he was staring at.

Oh shit! My miniskirt was up so high he could see my beaver through my bikini panties. My naked thighs were spread obscenely. He could see Roger's hand in my pants, his thumb on my clit and two fingers deep in my pussy. Roger was massaging me in a slow, gentle rhythm. And I was humping his hand - humping like a bitch in heat.