Realization 4

This is a story that involves cuckolding, cream pies and other conduct that you may not find attractive. If you don't, don't read it. This is for those who do enjoy the fantasy of such things.

I'm sure I'm not alone in having moments of clarity when everything makes sense and I know I have the perfect insight, the perfect answer, or even fore knowledge of what must necessarily and inevitably happen if only the dominoes are arranged just so. I'm a lawyer. My friends think I'm smart and logical. In truth I know my real strength is not logic, but intuition. Every major victory I can trace back to a key flash of intuition that delivered the right answer to me. I then back fill with logic to persuade others, from their viewpoint, but what inevitably changes my mind or persuades me is the sudden understanding of how the pieces of a puzzle must fit together to create a successful picture. Those flashes of insight often happen at odd moments after I've been worrying a puzzle or problem, but usually when I've turned my mind to something else. I avoided bankruptcy for a struggling client when a plan sprang into being while mowing the backyard. I knew months before the country did that President Clinton would survive his impeachment trial, not because everyone thought his lie was a good thing or permitted, but because no one could agree on the appropriate remedy or punishment. Well, this is how I came to the sudden insight that I wanted my wife to have sex with other men.

Not unusual for a guy, I like pictures of naked women. I've liked men's magazines since before I was legally a man. Also not unusual for a guy, I love my wife. When we met in college I liked her because she was a beautiful, leggy, haughty, definitely hard to get blond. She looked great in jeans. She required a lot of work and pursuit. She looked even better in lingerie and despite a cool and reserved exterior and demure dress, when sexually heated, she was and is a tigress. Sex is a naughty and taboo subject for her, but that doesn't stop her from having very naughty fantasies. When she lets go it is unbelievable. She enjoys -- no, begs to be spanked. She's easily orgasmic, but generally can only stand one orgasm. My problem was always she came harder and faster than my own climax.

I recall one make-out session in college that started me down the path, not of jealously but knowledge that other men found my Lori attractive and desirable. College life being what it is with roommates and unpredictable schedules, we'd gone to a deserted park shelter on the edge of town for privacy. We parked in the empty gravel parking lot at the top of a hill. The park shelter lay in a deep bowl at the bottom of a winding path with a little winding creek through the middle of the depression. We walked maybe forty yards downhill to the bridge. We chatted and watched the stream shimmer and shimmy with light and life. Talking transitioned to passionate kissing and fondling, with Lori perched on the broad handrail board. Facing her I had a clear view up the hill to where the car was parked. The light was perfect, in that golden hour just before sunset. The retiring sun made Lori's blond hair flame brighter. I unbuttoned her blouse. She was bra-less, a luxury of youth and desire. I couldn't resist the temptations offered and moved my attentions downward to suck and caress the rubbery tips of her nipples and the firm swell of her breasts. I can still recall her urgency. She's not always comfortable with oral sex, either receiving or giving, but this time her breaths were short and forceful. He moans were deep and urgent. She pressed my head down her long torso. I kissed her pussy through her light blue terry cloth short shorts. She pushed her cunt hard into my mouth in response to the heat of my breath. The shorts were soon down around one ankle and she resumed her perch on the bridge's handrail with her legs spread wide and calves laid across my back as she drew my mouth to her wet and very slippery pussy. While Lori has reservations about oral sex. I do not. I love tasting her and she was in her wanton and desperate mood. She urgently and desperately worked my mouth and tongue to bring her to a knee quivering organism. The conquest took some time as by the time Lori snapped her legs closed and pushed me away to keep from being overwhelmed by the increased sensitivity of her post orgasmic pussy. I was still dressed. Lori had only a light cotton shell draped around her elbows. She scrambled to pull up her shorts and re-button her open blouse. It was only as we turned to go that we discovered the parking lot was no longer empty. Lori had faced away from the lot. My face was buried in between her legs. When the audience had arrived, I do not know. They'd obviously enjoyed the show. The long walk back up the hill was accompanied by horn honks and flashing headlights -- apparent approval. Lori's Nordic pale skin blushed hot pink. I discovered I liked that others had seen her near naked.

After we got married I found myself more and more picturing my wife, Lori, in the pictures of men's magazines, wearing the same lingerie, striking the same blatantly sexual poses. As the medium grew with more explicit magazines and an open Internet, couple shoots became more common and I found myself transposing my wife into the scene but not changing the male actor. I liked that other men found Lori attractive. She stayed tall and slender, relatively still attractive and always looking younger than her nominal years. Her heart shaped bottom still looked good in professional slacks or skirts as it had in jeans or shorts. She still gets looks.

When I was in high school I can remember a few hot flashes of jealousy, most of which worked out poorly for me. I remember punching my best friend who took my former girlfriend to the Prom, after she'd broken up with me. She wanted to give both of us the option to date others as I recall. After the Prom she wanted to get back together. It was one of those where I really liked her Mom and Dad, but the spell was broken. Why would I do that to myself again? I was onto new, better and blonder things. However, I still feel bad about getting crazy jealous mad at Craig. In hindsight it wasn't his fault. And to his credit, we stayed friends. Besides, he was always bigger and stronger. He could have pounded me if he had wanted, but he didn't. He wasn't adversarial. In fact, we seemed to became closer friends.

In any case, I'd resolved then to follow the old admonition of setting something free, if it comes back to you it's yours, if it doesn't, it never was. I'm no longer the jealous kind. In fact, I found myself titillated by the knowledge that other men liked my woman -- and thought of her sexually. For the longest time this comfort with not being jealous and taking a certain perverse pleasure in having an attractive girlfriend and then wife that other men admired stayed in the background, expressed more as pride in a great catch. It was a vague comfort that other men were attracted to my wife.

But then one day it hit me. I not only liked that other men were attracted to Lori. Yes I took that as a compliment. The flash was that I wanted Lori to be attracted to other men. I wanted her to date other men, to have other men, to open her mouth, her legs, her body to other cocks, but to return home to me.

I can remember when the flash of realization hit. I saw a threesome in a magazine where a guy shared his blindfolded wife with another man. Halfway through the photo series the wife removed her blindfold but continued fellating the male guest with a sly, happy smile. I realized that I wanted my wife to have other men. I wanted to be a cuckold. I wanted to see her wild with uncontrolled desire for another cock. I wanted to hear her tell me about her assignations. I wanted Lori to be slutty. I'm handsome enough and have plenty of sex drive, but suddenly my fantasies and ambitions did not involve me with other women, but instead involved my wife with other men. I even shared the photo spread with my wife but she didn't express much interest or desire in it. While l love the visual stimulation, she tends to prefer reading provocatively, sexy stories to become aroused or get in the mood.

For the longest time that's where things were left. She knew I fantasized about her with other men. I'd tease her with the idea on occasion. I'd send her off on business trips with condoms or a vibrator. She'd tease me with naked photos of her on a hotel room sink or call with some breathless phone sex. On rare occasions she'd tease me with stories of her fantasy lovers from the road. I'd beg her to tell me about the stranger in the pool, even though she almost never goes swimming. Or I'd want her to describe the mutual masturbation session on a train, even though her travel was always by plane. Sometimes she would oblige mechanically. Sometimes she would get offended and I'd spoil the moment for her, which spoiled it for me. Once in a while she'd really indulge me and even ask me to employ a fantasy involving her and other men in our pillow talk. Once after a long separation with her on an extended project in another city she whispered in my ear, "I can still taste his cock while I'm kissing you." I almost swooned and I couldn't get the picture out of my mind. I'd long ago determined that Lori was free to have sex with others, even though I fervently wanted her to come back to me.

It was this one sentence, whispered foreplay that changed how I pictured things. "I can still taste his cock. . .while I'm kissing you." It took awhile to sink in but it eventually occurred to me that if she could taste him, so would I. A new element was added to my naughty fantasy. I not only wanted to see her lips wrapped around the firm fleshy helmet of another cock, I wanted his cum in her mouth, on her lips. And I wanted her to kiss me with the fruits of her efforts still evident.

The fantasy progressed. Not only did I want her passionately hungry to ride another cock, I wanted him to cum deep inside her. And I wanted her to compel me to lick her vaginal lips and suck her cunt with the commingled rewards of their coupling. I wanted to see the white cream coating her pussy and to have her press my face into her as she had done on that park bridge so long ago.

I might as well have been wishing for the moon. Lori likes her sex and can indulge in fantasy on occasion. She even likes to be spanked, something bad girls deserve for having sex. But it's hard to let go. In her conservative up bringing, sex was a bad thing, and taboo. Certainly good girls shouldn't enjoy it so much. As a consequence, her fantasies (as opposed to mine) tended to revolve around mind control, discipline or non-consent, circumstances where the female was relieved of moral blame by lacking the will or ability to resist a sexual encounter.

So I used her inclinations against her. I spanked her for being a bad girl in wanting other men. She encouraged more force or control in the bedroom, at least when she was horny. She wasn't always compliant when she wasn't already in the mood. But I added light bondage to the bedroom. Binding her with robe or handcuffs or blindfolding her like my inspiration. I introduced in role playing her obligation to submit to other men to please me. That it wasn't cheating under my direction and permission.

Like water torture her responses began as, "You don't really want to share me? It's just fantasy right? I don't want anyone else." She'd get mad sometimes when I'd want the role playing and she wanted the loving husband. I was nothing if not persistent. The fantasy almost never worked after Lori climaxed. Her urgency was gone. But when yet unsatisfied she began to entertain the idea and eventually to concede control if I were to select a man with which to share her.

From her fantasies and erotic stories I knew what type of man she envisioned in her fantasies. At five foot eight Lori is tall and a nicely curved size ten. She's still slender through the waist with nice full 34DD breasts. She desires bigger men, ideally well over six feet. I'm six one and that's probably towards the lower end of her desires. I have a deep chest and an average cock of eight inches when erect, but pretty average in circumference. I always imagined her lovers' parts scaling up with size. She likes powerful arms and legs and a flat stomach. An NFL receiver, a speed skater, in fact almost any broad shouldered athlete type with dark hair. So of course I pictured a well-endowed lover, with a large cock and big, pendulous testicles, of the size not disguised by wearing pants. In fact she liked big men in dress slacks, often commenting on a particularly well fitted seat or even bulging package encased in well tailored lightweight dress slacks. She could be a tease. She'd comment on the nice drape and the hand of the fabric. The way she said it made it sound like she wanted it to be her hand wrapped around his cock or her body draped across his legs. Like I said, just because she'd never acted on it, didn't mean she wasn't clear about her desires, or what she liked. Tall, dark, powerful, handsome, well-tailored and commanding.

I knew from my history that other men could share a certain camaraderie while sharing a woman. That would be necessary. Lori would want someone big and powerful in stature and personality to whom she could submit without guilt. I set out to find someone for her. I still wanted someone for her who wanted the sex and not the other desirable attributes which bound Lori and I together. I wanted her to come back to me. I needed her to come back to me. And I knew or should have known that my role in a threesome was inherently subordinate to him, at least sexually. For my fantasy to come true, he would have to be the primary focus. He would have to satisfy himself in her mouth, in her pussy before me.

One other clue from Lori's stories of erotic dominance was the key. She liked men in uniform. Not just in the normal, I respect those that serve (though she does), but in the, they can command me what to do and I can submit without guilt type of way.

A new colleague at Lori's work filtered into evening recaps. He was ex-Army, in charge of corporate security. Some of the stories were about conflict over access policy. But mostly the mentions were positive and admiring. When he traveled to China, he brought Lori back a souvenir doll. I told her at minimum it means he wants an opportunity to share stories about his travels with someone and it's a good excuse.

I met Bill at a corporate open house. He was our age. At six four, he was definitely tall. He was powerfully built. And he wore a blue blazer and silk dress pants like a uniform, perfectly tailored. In my line of work, I know how to work a room, asking questions to draw out conversation. I'm always genuinely interested in hearing others' stories, so it wasn't hard. Lori doesn't have the same gift. I got him talking about China and laughing with Lori. The conversation once started went smoothly. Their eyes were lively and flirty and focused on each other. He wasn't married, he'd gone alone, but also explaining why it might be nice to have someone willing to listen about his discoveries in the Imperial City, along the Great Wall, or in bustling Shanghai. Heck, I wanted to go after hearing the itinerary, and even more so after some of the tale. I excused myself to refill drinks, giving them more time to chat. I got engaged with other conversations, as a consequence having to finish both the beer I'd gotten for myself and the white wine originally intended for Lori. It was more than an hour later I made it back to Lori as the party wound down. Bill and Lori were still chatting and still animated. Their hands would original rest on the other to make a point or to steady a laugh. Her hand brushed hair away from her face, repeatedly and in crossing an arm across her chest, one hand subconsciously caressed the side of her own breast. On the way home from the function, Lori was filled with stories about Bill. I had his business card. His phone number. And reason to believe neither of them would be ultimately adverse to something more.

Now fantasy had a chance at reality. A few weeks later I made arrangements with Bill and instructed Lori what to do. In a tall downtown hotel with an expansive view of the Valley of the Sun, warm reddish yellow light filtered through the floor to ceiling windows from the setting sun. It was another golden hour. Lori sat on the edge of the large king-size bed in sheer white, ruffled crotchless panties and a richly embroidered black lace demi-bra. Her eyes were covered with a black felt blindfold. I knelt behind her, naked except for a leather cock ring and ball separator. I didn't want to come too easily and needed to constriction. I was kissing her long neck, licking the delicate areas behind her ear lobes, and stroking her bare arms. We could hear the shower running in the en suite bath. I could smell Lori's arousal and feel the tautness in her skin as goose bumps formed. Occasionally a low whimper would escape Lori's breath.

When the bathroom door opened up I looked over to see Bill with a white towel wrapped around his waist. The fabric of the towel split well up his right hip, the towel just long enough for his narrow waist but a bit stretched to cover his hips. A large bulge pressed prominently against the inside front of his towel. He had a deep, powerful chest with strong pectoral muscles and more massive biceps than my own. His stomach was a bit flatter, but more defined. His dark hair was still wet. I stood up and guided Lori to her feet, turning her to face Bill.

I presented Lori to Bill. No words were necessary now. He took her into his powerful embrace and kissed her full on the lips. She arched her back and wrapped her arms around his neck. Lori hurriedly removed the blindfold. Regardless of the scripted fantasy, SHE wanted to see. I kissed the nape of her neck and ran my fingers through her hair. Like spanking she likes to have her hair pulled with some authority. It exposed her neck to Bill's open and hungry mouth. A low guttural moan filled Lori's throat.

I retreated to a chair drawn up by the foot of the bed. Bill's hands roamed freely over Lori's poorly concealed body cupping her butt cheeks, squeezing her breasts, still encased in lace. Lori's hands stroked powerful arms and caressed his muscular torso. My cock was already engorged and hard, bound in leather, with a strong ache of desire and pain from the leather straps around my genitals. I stroked my cock softly with one hand while feeling the hard egg shaped testicles with the other.

Lori's breath was fast and wanton, she sounded like she couldn't catch her breath. I wanted to see her madly hungry for another man's cock, at the point where she couldn't resist opening up to another man. I was realizing my fantasy.

She broke away and sat back down on the edge of the bed. With her knees spread she pulled Bill to stand with his shins braced against the mattress. Her eyes burned through the towel, fully tented with Bill's erection. I was sitting close, my right knee brushed against Lori's left as I shifted in the chair. Her hand fluttered on my thigh for an instant stroking me and seeming to pat me in reassurance, though her eyes never left Bill's towel. Lori's hands moved to the back of Bill's knees and stroked up his hamstrings to caress and squeeze his bare butt under the towel. She drew him closer and kissed his stomach. Kissed the bulging tip of his towel. Her hands slipped forward under the towel and she splayed her fingers across his groin parting the rolled up waist and letting the white terry fall to the floor. Freed of the weight of the constricting towel, Bill's cock was truly impressive. He was well over ten inches and appeared to be double my circumference. His circumcised head featured a thick and fleshy corona significantly larger than my own. My own balls tend to draw up into a tight sack when my cock is erect. Bill's testicles hung heavily and full. Even I was mesmerized. Lori was unbound.