Almost all married couples start out intending to remain faithful to each other forever. It's in your wedding vows and it's actually the point of getting married; to have a monogamous relationship. This excludes the open marriage and wife swapping crowd, obviously, but the average marriage is all about fidelity.
Despite this, every married couple has a joke they like to talk about as if it were a game. I'm talking about, 'The Wild Card." This imaginary card is what you or your spouse gets to play one time with one person in order to step outside of the marriage temporarily and fuck another man or woman. It's a fantasy, basically, and the game is that your wild card is unobtainable; it can never actually happen in real life. Therefore, you debate who your wild card would be and you both agree to abide by the terms, knowing it's all make believe. Usually, the man picks someone like Angelina Jolie or Charize Theron. For women, it's Brad Pitt or maybe Denzel Washington. The whole thing is harmless because you have a better chance of winning the Powerball Lottery than you do of ever getting to use your wild card.
But watch out. I'm here to tell you that playing this game can turn bad on you. It happened to me, and it got pretty ugly. My name is Harry and my wife is Jeanine. I'm a well-paid professional and so is my wife, and together we had developed a comfortable lifestyle for ourselves. I work as a project manager for a defense contractor, and Jeanine is an editor for a book publisher. I'm 34 years old and I'm of average height and weigh around 180 lbs. I lift weights and run a little, so I'm in pretty good shape and I'm a decent looking guy. Jeanine is a tall 5' 10" and 130 lbs, with an hourglass figure and firm, 36B tits. She's 28 years old, with a body that is tighter than any 18 year old. Her long legs and shapely feet are matched only by her gorgeous face. I realized that I was lucky to have her.
At a glance, we're a great couple. We look like Barbie and Ken to some people. But under the surface we suffer the same problems as other couples. Even if you're both very attractive there comes a time when your sex life becomes dull. It really can't be helped. You can try every trick in the book, but eventually you will run out of positions to try, or sex toys to experiment with, and even kinky sex becomes routine if you do it for years. That's why so many couples who started out with the best of intentions wind up divorced when one spouse or the other commits adultery. The only way to keep your sex life absolutely fresh is to keep fucking new people, it's that simple. Just fuck one new person and you get to try all the positions, toys and kinks again, but this time it's new and exciting. That's what swingers and couples in open marriages have figured out, but most of us can't live that way. We can't bear the jealousy and hurt. We can't get over the feeling of embarrassment and the loss of face when someone else takes what is yours and leaves you wondering what they did together behind your back.
Ever think what it's like to face your friends or family and explain to them that your spouse cheated on you? It can get pretty extreme. I've known some guys who have been cheated on, and it was rough for them. They may come to you for solace, to talk about the way they feel, but men aren't good at that. Even as he's telling you about how his wife has been fucking a guy she works with, you're thinking, "I wonder if I can bust a nut in that cheap bitch? I always did want to fuck her. Sounds like Fred here can't satisfy her and obviously she's game!" That's how guys are, until the shoe is on the other foot.
There are actually men who enjoy being cuckolds and watching other men fuck their wives. That has to take a very advanced and mature person, or else a screaming pervert with self-esteem issues. I don't think there are many women who crave seeing their husbands plowing strange pussy, but perhaps they exist. What happens when you become a cuckold whether you like it or not? That's a tough one that over 40% of men have to face at some point. Statistically, that's how many women cheat on their husband or boyfriend. Scary stuff and odds are that you will, or already have, experienced something like my story.
Try as I might, I could tell that Jeanine was getting bored with our sexual routine. She was less interested in having sex these days and never instigated it anymore. When we did have sex, she seemed apathetic; doing it just to get it over with like it was a chore. I saw the signs, I'm not blind. When we did finally make love it was just fine. We both had orgasms and we both enjoyed it. But there wasn't much excitement or passion.
On the other hand, I did not see any signs that she had acted on this boredom and pursued her pleasures in the arms of another man. There were no secretive phone calls or "business trips" that suddenly came up. She hadn't altered her behavior. She hadn't started buying sexy clothes that she never seemed to wear around me, or suddenly start wearing thong underwear. She didn't come home late and immediately hit the shower. I looked for the signs, but if they were there, she had hidden them well.
So I tried to spice things up with flowers, dinner at fine restaurants, candlelight and music, whatever I could think of that might spark some romance. But Jeanine just complained of headaches or fatigue and slipped off to bed without me, leaving me to hit the Internet and jack off to porn. It wasn't helping my marriage, but my forearms were looking buff.
As I said in the beginning, everyone has a wild card. Mine was the typical choice, a famous actress; Jessica Alba. For Jeanine, though, she went a different route and picked a somewhat obscure soap opera actor. His name was Brian Stevens and he was a minor ongoing character in Jeanine's favorite soap, which she TiVo'd every day and watched faithfully. What are the odds, right? It wouldn't be a big problem if it wasn't for the fact that Brian Stevens was writing a book about his life as a struggling actor, and Jeanine's company had picked up the rights. She was now the editor for her wild card! I did not like where that was going, but I still assumed that the whole wild card thing was just silly fantasy and nothing that would ever be acted on.
But I was so very wrong. It wasn't long after she was handed the job of managing Brian Steven's book and editing it to a publishable form that she was having meetings with the new author and taking lunches with him. That wasn't unreasonable as she often took lunches with such clients. Then one day she announced to me that her new author was coming to dinner at our house. I was less than thrilled, but I had no reason to suspect that anything was going on at a deeper level than a professional relationship.
Brian showed up at our place at 8pm on the nose, a rarity for actors who struggle to get anywhere on time. I think they do it on purpose to be fashionably late. But here he was, knocking on the door. Jeanine was still getting her hair and make-up right, and I was helping keep an eye on the cooking. I answered the door and found myself looking at a very handsome younger man. Stevens was a bit over six feet tall and was extremely athletic looking. I sized him up as maybe 220, mostly muscle. He had brown hair and blue eyes, with wide shoulders that tapered down to a narrow waist. I shook hands with him and felt a very firm grip. I asked him in and he followed me into the living room.
"You must be Harry," he said, "I've heard so much about you! It's a real pleasure to finally meet you!"
Great, I thought. He's a nice guy. "Hi Brian, I'm really happy to meet you. Jeanine says that your book is going to be a killer read," I responded. I asked him to take a seat, and he took the middle cushion of the couch. I made us a couple of drinks, checked on dinner, and let Jeanine know that her guest was here. She was still getting dressed and I hadn't seen her in an hour. Meanwhile, Brian and I made small talk. I was disturbed to find that he was very likeable and good at small talk. We sipped our cocktails and chatted about his book until Jeanine made her appearance.
