Author's note: I would like to thank SwingingHoosier for providing the inspiration for this tale.
This is the first of three chapters. I am submitting them one day apart, although they may not be posted on the same schedule.
This story involves people who have sex outside of the marriage. No fictional characters were harmed in the writing of this story, and neither were any fictional marriages. If you don't like these types of stories...you're in the wrong category!
*****
My name is Tom, but on that particular fateful night roughly five years ago, that wasn't the name my wife was screaming as she was being fucked good and hard on our bed.
Now, before you get the wrong idea, let me clarify that I was the one who was fucking her. You see, we had been doing a bit of role-playing at that time, and on that particular night, she had chosen the name of "Dale" as her imaginary lover.
We had been married for twenty-four years, and our eldest son had just moved out of the house, leaving us as empty-nesters for the first time in our lives. In the weeks thereafter, I noticed that Beth, my wife, had become very vocal in bed. We had endured so many years being as quiet as possible in bed, I honestly never realized she had it in her. But the moment Donnie left for college, she seemed to let her hair down a little.
Maybe it was hormonal, or maybe it was the fact that she had started exercising again, and was feeling sexier than usual. I didn't care why her sex drive suddenly went into overdrive; I was simply enjoying the ride. Prior to that, our sex life had become duller and more seldom with each passing year.
Free from having to be quiet all the time, she began talking dirty while we had sex. I have to say, it was a major turn-on for me. The things she would say would make her friends at church blush, and those frumpy old women in her bookclub would never have suspected that there was such a dirty little slut hidden beneath that prim and proper exterior.
As we reached middle age together, Beth and I began to talk about all the things we'd like to do before we get too old to do them. We talked about traveling, and scuba diving, and other types of adventurous activities that we never had the time nor freedom to pursue while being tethered to the house for so many years. Inevitably, that discussion morphed into a conversation about our sexual fantasies. Being the hornier of the two, I was the one who prompted that particular discussion.
"Don't you have any wild oats you want to sow before it's too late?" I asked her.
She hesitated for a good, long time, and scrunched up her face as if she were deep in thought. "No, not really," she said. We had this conversation about our sexual fantasies before, and she always had the same response.
"Come on," I said. "You're either the only woman in the world who doesn't fantasize, or you're just afraid to share those fantasies with me."
That comment seemed to push the right buttons. "Okay," she said, "I've always wanted to have sex in a public place. You know, somewhere where we might get caught."
I never would have guessed that there was even the slightest exhibitionist streak in my shy and quiet wife. I couldn't help but react with shock, and she gave me a playful slap on the shoulder.
"See?" she said. "That's why I didn't want to tell you! I knew you'd react that way."
"I'm just surprised, that's all," I said. "We can make that happen, you know. I can think of a few places we could go where the risk would be pretty low, but good enough to add some danger."
"I don't actually want to do it!" she barked. "It's just a fantasy. You asked me about my fantasy."
"Okay, fair enough," I said, "but I'm just letting you know, if you ever want to make that fantasy a reality, I'm game for it."
"You're game for anything," she teased. I could almost hear the gears grinding in her brain as she considered the possibility. "What about you? What fantasies do you have?"
Even though I knew the question was coming, I still wasn't prepared for it. There are certain fantasies a man shares with his wife, and others that he leaves to himself. I had to be a little "politically correct" in my response, or it may have provoked a meltdown.
"I've always thought it would be fun to do a little role-playing," I said. "Maybe have you dress up as a schoolgirl or a cheerleader."
"In other words, you want to pretend you're with another woman," she said. Uh-oh. This was exactly the type of meltdown I was hoping to avoid.
"No, not at all," I assured her. "I love you, honey, you know that. And you're the only woman I've ever wanted."
"Mmm-hmm." She wasn't buying it. "I know all you guys fantasize about being with other women."
"Actually," I said, "my biggest fantasy would be to see you with another man."
The words escaped from my lips before I realized I had said them. It was almost as if I didn't say it myself, like I was watching a play and some character on stage just uttered the dumbest line of dialog I'd ever heard. This was my deepest, darkest secret - the type of fantasy a man keeps to himself. I had kept it locked away for years, and never for a moment considered sharing that particular fantasy with my wife.
I don't even know why I had this strange desire. I just knew that whenever I had the urge to masturbate, that was the go-to fantasy that would get me "over the hump," so to speak. Whenever I searched for porn, I found that more often than not, I would look for videos of men sharing their wives with other men. There were so many of them, I figured it must be a common fantasy. Still, it wasn't one that I was willing to share with anyone - especially my wife.
The words were out now, just hanging in the air. I couldn't take them back. My breathing stopped, and with each passing second during the interminable pause that followed my confession, I regretted it more and more. Finally, just as I was about to yell out "just kidding" or "April fools", she spoke.
"You're sick," she said, simply. I could tell by the way she said it that she was teasing me, and that brought a great sense of relief.
"I know," I said, "but you knew that when you married me." She gave me a playful slap.
"Why on earth would you even say something like that?" she asked, rubbing her hands through my chest hair in a suddenly seductive way.
"I don't know. It's just a fantasy. You wanted to know."
She paused a moment longer, and her hand slowly moved from my chest, down my abdomen. "So, you'd like to see me wrap my fingers around some other man's cock...like this?"
I had never heard her use the word "cock" before. That word alone, never mind what she began doing with her hand, provoked an instant sensation of warmth and swelling. She squeezed and stroked me slowly, and I could hear her breathing heavily.
"Maybe you'd like to see me wrap my lips around that cock," she said. She lowered her mouth over my swollen member and perched herself just above my cock head. I could feel her warm breath, and it drove me crazy. Without warning, she plunged her entire mouth over my shaft, taking half my length into her mouth, holding it there, and then withdrawing with an audible slurping sound.
"Mmm..." she said, "you have such a nice cock...Brad."
Brad? Who is Brad?
"Who the hell is Brad?" I asked.
She took me into her mouth once more, slowly and seductively. "You're just some random guy I met on the streets," she informed me. "Isn't that right, Brad?"
Before I could respond, I felt the warm, soft, moistness envelope my cock once more. This time, she took me deeper inside her mouth. It felt as though she took the entire length into her mouth - something she hadn't done in years. Her apparent lack of a gag reflex was something that always astounded me when we began dating in college, but it was a trick she seemed to abandon early into our marriage.
She continued to slowly work her luscious lips up and down my shaft, and I could feel myself reaching the edge of a powerful climax. Just as I was about to warn her, though, she stopped.
"You're so big and hard, Brad," she said. "I think I need to feel that big, hard thing inside me."
I flipped her onto her back forcefully, and made my way south to give her some attention with my tongue, but she stopped me once more.
"Oh, no," she said, "we don't have time for that. My husband will be home any minute. Just fuck me, Brad. Nice and hard."
I didn't need to be asked twice. I positioned myself at her entrance and slid inside. I was shocked how slick she was, simply from this dirty role-playing. I'm embarrassed to say, I didn't last long. Within minutes, I felt myself unloading inside her as she screamed Brad's name and clawed at my back.
Over the next several weeks, our sex life had never been better. We introduced role-playing into nearly every session, and it seemed to give us both a fresh, new, and exciting boost to our libidos. Apparently, Beth enjoyed my fantasy as much as I did. I felt like a young stud again, and my prim and proper wife transformed into an insatiable, sexually-adventurous minx.
And then came that night five years ago. We were having sex in our now-usual manner. Each time we role-played, Beth would choose a name for the man she was with. She claimed these were random names, although I recognized a few of them as our burly next-door neighbor, the young man who mows our lawn, and her friend at the office. I never said anything about recognizing those names, as I knew she would never admit to it, anyway.
On this particular night, the name she chose was "Dale."
