Remembered Acceptance

This is just a short story that I hope my followers will enjoy while I get some ideas together for something longer.

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It all happened the day I got home from work and my wife came down the stairs in just her dressing gown. That she was in her dressing gown was not unusual. What was unusual is that in twenty-two years of marriage I had never seen her wearing it when I got home.

Then she surprised me again when instead of just a, 'hello darling', greeting she sidled right up to me, put her arms on my neck and gave me a very loving kiss.

Now I knew something was up and immediately having a concern for my finances I leant back a bit. It was then I noticed how flushed she looked and wondered if she had been in the shower this early in the evening.

'You are full of surprises, my dear,' I told her. 'Why are you in your dressing gown and why such a loving kiss? You want something really expensive, or have you bought it already?'

My wife gave a soft chuckle. 'No darling, this isn't going to cost you anything financially.'

'Well, thank goodness for that,' I replied, hoping my growing concern didn't show.

'No darling, this is just about something I want you to let me continue doing.'

Now, I loved Julie, had done for over twenty years. Got two kids to show for it so I thought I knew her, but being asked to let her continue something was one request I had never had before.

'Are you going to tell me or do I have to guess?' I asked her after receiving another loving kiss. The wetness of her kiss and the way she did it was another surprise as at the same time she also stroked the back of my neck in a very arousing way.

'You know, Mr Jackson who lives on his own just down the road?'

'Yes,' I agreed slowly because I did know Mr Jackson, who moved here six- months ago.

My wife moved closer, pressing herself right up against me. 'Well,' she whispered in my ear, 'You came home earlier than I expected so he is still upstairs. Can he come down now?'

Perhaps it was my blank stare at this news. 'Please,' she pleaded.

Somehow, I got my voice back. 'You have been upstairs with Mr Jackson. How long?' I stammered.

'Most of the afternoon, darling,' she replied, sounding so sure of herself.

'Doing what,' I asked, knowing immediately what a ridiculous question it was.

'Darling, you know what we've been doing and I know you're surprised it's Mr Jackson.' She kissed me wetly, again. 'Now, can he come down, then when he's gone we can talk about it.'

To say I was surprised was an understatement, and not just because it was with Mr Jackson. She must have felt me nodding because she immediately called to Him. 'Mr Jackson, my husband knows you are up there, so you can come down now.' Then she turned to me. 'When he comes down I want you to shake his hand and say goodbye nicely.' The stare my wife gave me told me she was not expecting any disagreement.

Under my wife's watchful stare, I reluctantly shook Mr Jackson's hand. Having done as I had been told, I stood aside and let him leave my house. Before he left he told me not to blame my wife as it was all his fault. I thought that was very nice of him to accept responsibility. Then I turned toward the kitchen, got myself a beer and walked into the lounge.

Julie was already sitting on the settee and wanted me to sit beside her. I didn't want any of her actions to distract me, so I sat opposite her.

She looked a little peeved. 'Now Tom, let's talk about this sensibly. It's nothing serious, just an occasional meeting between friends.'

'Just an occasional meeting between friends,' I repeated. 'How long have you and Mr Jackson been friends?' I asked.

'Not long.'

I glared at her. 'I asked you, how long.'

'Only four times.' She even looked pleased with herself.

I ignored her reply. 'How often here?'

'Once, today.'

'Why?'

'He's lonely since his wife died and I wanted to help him. I don't love him,' she added as a statement.

I wished she hadn't said that. 'That's not what I asked you. Why here? Not in our bed, I hope?' I added.

'No of course not. I wanted you to know about him, I want to share him with you.'

'Share him with me.' That shocked me. 'Why do you want to share him with me?'

Suddenly she was off the settee and kneeling at my feet, her hands gripping my legs, her face only eighteen inches away 'Darling, I want you to share everything I have.'

I still wasn't with her. Share everything. Did she want to share me with Mr Jackson? 'I'm not with you, Julie.'

'Tom, you are so thick sometimes. I want to share this.' quickly she grabbed the hem of her dress and pulled it up to her waist. 'This,' she put her other hand on her crotch. 'I want you to let me share my pussy, my cunt.'

All I could do was stare, dumbfounded, at her pleading eyes and then her totally shaved crotch. I must have looked between them for ages before some realisation eventually dawned on me. 'You want me to let you continue fucking Mr Jackson?'

At last, she smiled. 'Nearly right, darling. I want you to let me share my pussy, my cunt with Mr Jackson and, and also with other men. Please, darling will you let me?'

As I looked at my wife's beautiful, pleading eyes I remembered something like this had come up once before. We had been courting for about six months and had just fucked the shit out of each other like you do when you are both nineteen.

I remembered every word she said. 'When we are married, would you share me, if I asked you to?'

She asked it quietly, almost whispering it into my ear. I was still almost comatose, so how after all this time I also remembered my reply, I don't know. 'If you always fuck like that I'll probably need to share you.'

The thing is, my wife could still fuck like that.