My new life started the day I found my husband's magazine stash.
We were doing some cleaning out. Old clothes were at the top of my list because we needed closet space. While Larry was dealing with the attic, putting up hangers and moving boxes around, I was attacking his closet. As I pulled out a batch of his oldest suits and shirts, I found about forty magazines in a stack. They'd been hidden in the back corner where I would ordinarily not look.
I pulled the top one from the stack and fingered through it. It featured articles on swapping, swinging, threesomes, foursomes, group sex, and gangbangs. I flipped through the pages and skimmed a couple of the articles. As I scanned backward, I came across a letters section that detailed the excitement generated when these men saw their wives or girlfriends engaged in sex with other men. I was floored.
One after another, I worked my way through the stack. Some dates were fairly recent, but others went back years. I determined Larry had collected what he considered a "best of" set of the issues. Whatever contributed to that decision was not readily apparent. They all seemed to be pretty similar in content to me.
Eventually, after having read through three of them and scanning many of the others, I put them all back in their original spot and pushed the remaining clothes down the hanging rod so they would be covered once again. I noticed, however, as I performed these tasks, that I had been aroused by the content of the issues I'd read.
This was new territory for me. Larry and I had a conventional marriage to this point. He never even suggested this type of activity. Our sex lives were regular, but fairly uneventful. Two or three times a week Larry and I would make love. That was it. Once in a while, we experimented with a different position. We'd occasionally engage in some oral sex as part of foreplay, but I would term our usual activities as fairly normal, mundane, and according to Larry's stash of literature, boring.
The rest of that Saturday was spent moving the clothing to the attic, selecting some for disposal and general cleaning up around our place. I was determined not to mention my discovery to my husband until the time was right.
Saturday night is our usual night out. We visited one of a dozen or so regular haunts for dinner and drinks. I suggested we go to one of those restaurants with a bar centrally located within the dining room. The ambience of the place was a little loud, but the music was good and the clientele usually well behaved. Larry agreed.
As we ate our dinner, I scanned the bar area looking for likely candidates. Finally, I asked my husband the crucial question.
"Do you think that guy would like to screw me?" I said, pointing to one of the better looking fellows in the bar area. Larry's face went white.
"What did you say?" he asked. His face was frozen.
"I asked if you thought that guy would like to fuck me, Larry. Didn't you hear me?"
"I heard you," he responded, "but I don't believe what I'm hearing."
I put another forkful of food in my mouth and chewed slowly, looking straight at him. After swallowing, I took a sip of wine and smiled at him.
"What would you think," I began, "or feel like, Larry. Imagine me naked, my legs in the air, spread wide, and that guy right there," I nodded, poking the back of my fork in the general direction of the bar, "in between my legs, pounding his cock into me?"
"Have you lost your mind?" he said.
I smiled at him and shook my head very slowly. "I know you've thought about it in general terms, Sweetie. I want to know, what if we took that specific guy," I nodded toward the individual in the bar, "and invited him to a hotel room so you could watch him fuck me. Would you like that? Would it turn you on? Doesn't it turn you on just considering it? Would you like to see me suck his cock, too?"
Larry was aghast.
I laughed. "Don't look so astonished, my darling. I found your stash of magazines. I read them all. There's seems to be a common thread. In all of them, the wife, me, is fucking somebody while her devoted spouse, presumably you, watches. Sometimes he gets to fuck another woman, and other times he just watches. The fact you saved all those magazines says it's something that turns you on. I want to know if you're serious about it."
He could have been slugged in the gut the way he looked. His poise evaporated. He actually looked ashamed.
"They're just...I don't know," he said, glumly, "fantasies."
"Ah," I nodded. "And, when you fantasize, am I there? Is it me?"
Larry looked deflated. "Yes," he finally admitted.
"I'm not mad, Larry," I comforted him. "In fact, reading all that stuff got me pretty hot, too. But, I'd like to know why that particular fantasy."
"Because," he said, after a deep breath, "I never get to watch. When we're together, I'm always so occupied that I never get to see you. Everything is colored by my own involvement." He shrugged his shoulders.
"So, you'd like to see me fucking without being involved, as you say?"
"Something like that."
I nibbled another morsel from my plate as I considered my husband's answers. He had been my third lover. Sex was an activity for the males of the species, I'd always believed. The female participated in order to make her man happy. The orgasms I'd experienced with Larry were the first and an unexpected benefit of the act. They were pleasurable, to be sure, and an affirmation, I had always thought, that I had found the right man.
"I'll tell you what," I said, finally. "I'll consider making your fantasy a reality."
"You don't have to do that," he protested.
"I know I don't. But, I told you, those magazine articles, or letters, or whatever, had an effect on me, too. I just might like doing it. Anyway, before I do, you have to do something for me."
"What's that?" he asked, not entirely convinced of the idea, yet.
"We're going to do a little role-playing first to see if I'd like it."
"How are we going to do that?"
"We're going to keep the lights off and pick a name, any man's name. You'll be that man for the night. Then you can fuck me like that man and I'll see if I like it."
"I told you that you didn't have to do anything," he reminded me.
I smiled at him. "I know, Sweetie. You never know, though. Maybe I'll get off on it as much as you do and your fantasy can become a reality. Who knows? This little adventure could give our sex life a kick in the backside. That would be a change for us, wouldn't it?"
"You know I've never complained about our sex life," he said.
"But there must be something," I responded. "Otherwise, you wouldn't have collected those magazines.
"Besides," I continued, "before I read your collection today I'd always thought sex was a duty of marriage. An enjoyable duty, to be sure, but I'd never considered it a vital element of our relationship. I think it would be fun to make it one."
Larry surprised me. He dabbed at his lips with the dinner napkin, stood up and disappeared into the bar. He stayed gone for about ten minutes. He returned to our table with a glass of whiskey and a serious look on his face.
"His name is Greg," he said. "He's an attorney working on a divestment case for some investment bank that's gone broke. He's single, well, divorced. He doesn't live here, but is staying in a condo his company arranged while he works out the details of his case. He expects to be in town for another three months. Here is his card."
Larry reached across the table and handed me the business card. The front was embossed with the name, address of a firm from St. Louis, and the words "Attorney at Law", and several telephone numbers. On the back was his local address and cell phone number.
"What do you want me to do with this?"
