You would absolutely never take my wife Emma to be the person she is. I mean, you always know that the people you see every day have more to them than meets the eye, but most of that stuff is all pretty mundane. A cop that collects action figures; a woman who loves boxing, etc. The list goes on and on. Well, my wife is a sex-addict, and you'd never know it from looking at her. She's petite, loves baking cookies for work, wears glasses when she can't be bothered to wear contacts, prefers jeans over skirts and t-shirts over blouses when dressing casual. She's cute as hell, though, and has a sweet little body with boobs that went from 32B to 32D after one particular tax refund a few years ago. You might see her in the office, or in the grocery store and think, "Hey, she's pretty cute," and you might wonder what she'd be like slobbering on your knob, but the truth would make your eyes pop. My wife loves sex, and cannot get enough of it, and I stopped trying to keep up a long time ago.
So you probably think I'm one of those cuckolded husbands -- but I'll be honest with you, that's not the case. She cheated with one guy a couple of times, and I'd never have found out about it, but she told me. I blew up, threatened divorce and all that, but we did counseling, and it all came out about her problem. I didn't believe it at first -- there are just waaaaay too many excuses for personal problems these days, and all I could think of for a while was "dirty fucking slut". I didn't believe where she said she'd be going, I was was always wondering who she'd be out fucking around with, and it eventually wore me down. I didn't want to divorce her, because I still loved her, and we just had a great time together. We spoke about it, and after a while came to an arrangement which I'll tell you about later. I hard a real hard time with it at first -- it pissed me off, is what it did, emasculated me -- all that stuff that fucks with your head. But after a while I told myself I had to get over it, and that was the turning point. We'd talk about it more, and it would turn me on, and we would have great sex, so I conditioned myself to accept it, and now I'm used to it, and it's completely fine with me. But you want me to skip to the action, and why not? The arrangement we made was that she'd never cheat on me again unless I was there when she wanted to do someone else. So we decided that the perfect thing to do was let her get it all out whenever we went on vacation -- no problem with embarrassedly meeting people from town and all that. Anyway, I'll tell you all this in greater detail from here on in.
We were in that area when we were still sort of dealing with the topic of her sex addiction and how we were going to cope with it -- it was right before Christmas and we were out of town for the weekend on a shopping trip. We were sitting in a mall food court and she said to me, "Say, you know how we're supposed to be getting that big tax return when we file?"
"Sure," I said.
"Well, it's not like we really need the money right? I was thinking I'd like to get a boob job with it."
I almost choked. "You're serious? Honey, we're going through something that I'm still finding hard to deal with. This feels like you're just turning it up."
"It's not like we never spoke about it before. You've fantasized about me having bigger boobs for ages."
"Right -- but that was before I knew about the whole sex-addiction thing."
"I don't see what difference it makes. I'm gonna want to screw whether I've got bigger tits or not. I just want to feel good about myself. If you wanted to get a bigger cock I wouldn't hold you back," she smiled. "Not that you're not already a good size, of course."
"Of course!" I laughed back. "Okay, we can talk about it more after we file, right?"
"I know what that means," she said, and rolled her eyes. But she'd disarmed me. I definitely like a handful, and I've made that comment before. I knew it was something that I would love, but of course at the same time, you know more people are going to be looking. We never spoke about it again that whole trip, and not again until that following February.
But for that particular trip, things heated up pretty quickly. We were done with our shopping that day and were planning on having a meal and heading back to the hotel for an early night when she said, in the car, "Honey, you know how we spoke to the counselor and agreed that I should tell you whenever I start to get that feeling?"
The feeling she described was like her heart falling into the pit of her stomach, making her pussy and nipples ache suddenly. She wasn't able to think of anything after that other than getting off. The counselor suggested masturbating wherever that was possible, just to get rid of the sensation, and that's what Emma would do if for whatever reason I couldn't service her. It wasn't always convenient, as you can imagine, but she'd done it in the car a few times whenever she had to.
"I really need to get off," she said, and started unbuttoning her jeans. By the time I was leaving the parking lot, her jeans and panties were down around her ankles and her legs were wide open. It never usually took too long once she was at that point. So there I am trying to keep my eye on the cars in front of me, and my wife is beside me rubbing her clit like crazy. Tough job, let me tell you. After a few minutes, she was done, and the ride back to the hotel was as if nothing had happened out of the ordinary.