Thats How Much I Love You

This story is for Dave, who not only requested that I write it and gave me all the information I needed to customize it especially for him, but was also very generous in his appreciation.

After reading it, he thought that he would enjoy sharing it with the readers at literotica, where he first found my stories, so here it is.

Please be advised that this is a story that involves a married couple and another man, and that some of the things that go on include all of the participants.

It is a story that involves a husband sharing his wife with another man. If that offends you, you will not like this and would be better off passing it by. If you choose to vent your anger or show your love about the subject, direct it to Dave. It's not my idea of love. I'm just a guy who loves writing smut.

***

Chapter One: It was my fault.

I felt my orgasm coming almost right away and was powerless to stop it, even though I had been thinking about the most revolting things and had closed my eyes so as not to look at the woman below me. Still it happened, and even faster than what had become my usual.

Ten seconds was my guess. No more than that. Almost immediately after sliding my penis into the warm inviting orifice of the woman I had loved for every minute of the 28 years we had been married, I felt the shiver run down my body, and although I stopped moving and did my best to hold it off, my body betrayed me once again, just as it had for the last couple of years.

"Was it good for you?" Roxanne asked me cryptically as I held myself above her, my dick wiggling out of her pussy as it withered away.

"Sorry," I said for probably the 100th time this year, and climbed down to take care of her orally.

"No, David," Roxanne said, grabbing me before I could get down there. "Look, we have to talk."

Calling me David meant she was mad. That much I knew. The comment she had made after I ejaculated prematurely yet again was even nastier than usual. A far cry from the, "That's okay, Babe," that I got from Roxanne when this first started happening a couple of years back.

I blame it on the porn movies we had started watching. It had started to be a pleasant diversion, but I had found that I started comparing myself to the men in those films. Not just in terms of my cock size but also in lovemaking skills.

I had put all of the insecurities and fears about the size of my penis aside after we had married, and Roxanne had never mentioned it, but seeing these exceptionally endowed young men had managed to get my old fears rekindled.

It's not THAT small, I kept telling myself. My dick is rather slender, but almost 6" inches long, I reminded myself, trying to forget that when I measured my penis, it was back when I was very young. I also remembered jamming the ruler into myself rather hard while doing so straining until the tip of my dick was near the mark.

The women in the films always seemed to be going crazy as they got fucked too. Roxanne used to look like that when we made love, but that seemed an eternity ago. I couldn't make her cum now. All I could do was make a mess, apologize and go down on her with all of the passion I could manage. Now even that wasn't enough.

Roxanne was used to a good amount of sex over the years, and after our son grew up and moved out, giving us the privacy we hadn't had for so long, she had expected that the frequency would increase dramatically. It had, for a time, but now it was back to once a week. And now?

***

Chapter Two: Roxanne's request.

"I need sex, David," Roxanne said. "Ive been patient, but this has been going on for - how long? Seems like forever."

"I know," I protested. "I'm trying, but..."

"I've even thought about cheating on you," Roxanne said. "Even though the thought of it disgusts me."

The fact that she hadn't already made me feel a little better, but what followed didn't. Roxanne was not going to cheat on me, but neither was she going to go without sex. It was my choice. Divorce was one of the two options.

Maybe I should have said yes to that. Just ended it all and let us go our separate ways, but I couldn't do it. I loved Roxanne as much as I ever had, maybe even more. Starting a new life at 52 without Roxanne was unthinkable, so I went with the other option.

It wasn't something that we hadn't discussed years ago, back when we were young and a lot more wild, but what Roxanne was proposing was not the wife swapping that we never acted on. This was just involving another man.

Oh, I was welcome to do whatever I wanted in that regard, Roxanne said. If I wanted to find another woman, that was alright with her. Wouldn't be fair otherwise, she noted, but I didn't want another woman. Besides, I could not imagine how humiliating it would be to try and make love with another woman the way things were going with me these days.

So I said yes. There were a bunch of stipulations Roxanne had. Anything that happened would be happening right at our house. She was not going to skulk around town meeting men on the sly. Furthermore, she wanted me to stay in the house while this went on, because she was afraid of being alone with a stranger.

I said alright. The next thing that was to be determined was who the man would be. Roxanne suggested that I ask Jeff Cable, a friend of ours that up until recently had been part of a couple we used to socialize with. After they split up, we hadn't seen much of either of them.

I had always suspected that Roxanne might be fond of Jeff, and I couldn't blame her because he was a decent looking guy. Matter of fact, the Cables were a couple that we had thought about whenever we discussed the possibility of swinging long ago. They might have gone for it too, but that was then and this was now.

Roxanne wanted me to ask Jeff myself. She didn't want to do it because she thought it would look like she was going around my back for it. With reluctance I agreed and called him up the next day, asking him to meet me at a local watering hole.

We met, and as we talked small talk I tried to imagine him having sex with my wife. Jeff was a bit heavier these days, but still pretty solidly built for a guy in his early 50's. I wondered if he was well hung. I had never noticed, but now I was curious.

I got home a couple of hours later, and Roxanne was waiting to see how I had done.

"Chickened out," I admitted with a shrug.

I had been unable to ask the question. How could I do it? "Hey Jeff, wanna fuck my wife? I can't satisfy her so I was hoping that you could come over and screw her through the headboard." No way.

That meant that Roxanne was going to have to find somebody on her own. I told her I didn't want to know anything about it and left it up to her. She told me that she was going to put an ad in a regional alternative paper, and had me take a picture of her.

Nothing too provocative, just a photo of Roxanne from the waist up dressed in a camisole. She was wearing sunglasses, which made her pretty unrecognizable, and after I saw the photo I had to admit she looked nice.

The photo was very flattering to her breasts, which looked lush and fully in the snug top, and at Roxanne's request I had tried to hide her waistline which was a little thicker and softer than it was in her younger days.

I swore I would not look at the ad when it appeared, but I caved in. The photo wasn't as sharp in the cheap newsprint, but she still looked good. The ad was something she had written herself.

Woman, 49, looking for discreet meetings with a clean and respectful gentleman. 5'4" 145 lbs. Brown hair and eyes. Husband approves.

Roxanne had rented a P.O. box and a few days after the ad appeared she handed me the key to the box and asked me to bring home any replies that might have arrived. As I walked in to the post office I didn't know what to hope for.

I was certainly hoping that there would be at least one response, because having none would be crushing to her. I had even considered writing a fake response just so she would have something. As it turned out, she had proved to be rather popular.

There were seven envelopes in the box along with a couple in the large manila variety. As I stood there in the lobby of the post office, I debated whether to throw them all in the trash and tell her nothing had come, but didn't.

I did look at the outsides of the envelopes, some typed and some hand written, and tried to guess at the people involved. All had P.O. boxes as return addresses, and while most were local, a couple were 50 and 75 miles away. Maybe that would be better, I thought. Not having to worry about having the person be somebody we knew.

When I got home and handed Roxanne the pile of mail, she seemed flabbergasted, looking at the various letters with a mixture of shock and pride.

"Can't believe that there are so many desperate men out there," Roxanne said. "All for a dumpy old woman."

"You aren't dumpy. You're beautiful," I told her.

"Want to read them with me?" she asked.

"Not really."

"You're going to be a part of this," Roxanne said. "Just thought you might want to."

I did watch her react to the letters as she read them, and did look at a couple of the pictures that she slid across the table toward me.

"Guess he missed my request for a gentleman," she mused as I looked at the photo the guy had provided, which showed Roxanne's ad covered with wads of semen. "He says that he loves my jugs and wants to fuck me real bad."

"You don't have to look elsewhere for that," I said. "You can get fucked real bad any night."

Roxanne made a face and went back to opening her mail as I recalled my attempt last night to make Roxanne happy. I didn't even last 10 seconds, cumming as soon as I entered her, and as far as I was concerned that was it for me.

"Want to read any of them, feel free," Roxanne said as she rose from the table and started to leave the room.

"No thanks."

"You're sure about this?" Roxanne said as she waited at the doorway, and when I nodded she went down the hall.

I sat at the table, staring at the pile of opened letters, and while I was tempted to look I didn't. Roxanne reappeared about five minutes later and came over to me, her hand on my shoulder.

"I just spoke to him. It's going to be Friday night," Roxanne said quietly. "I told him you would pick him up."

"He's local?" I asked. "What if we know him?"

"We don't know him," Roxanne said. "I'm sure of it. His name is Jason."

She handed me a piece of paper that had an address that, while it was local enough, was certainly not in an area of town that we knew anyone in.

"He's 19," Roxanne said as her hand slid off of my shoulder. "I feel like I'm robbing the cradle."

***

Chapter Three: Picking up Jason.

I poked my head in the bathroom on Friday night after hearing Roxanne call out to me, She was in the shower and had shaving cream around the perimeter of her bush.

"Could you grab me a fresh razor?" Roxanne asked. "This one is getting a little dull."

She had already shaved her underarms and legs and was now going to trim her luxuriant bush, which I had always adored.

"Jason doesn't like a lot of hair," Roxanne said in explanation as she took the razor and began to sculpt the dark brown forest into something she hoped her new lover would like.

"You found out a lot about this kid during that phone call the other night," I offered.

"Well, he called me a little while ago too," she said. "Just to make sure that we're still on and all. Told me things he liked to do."

"Oh."

"Still time," Roxanne said.

There was still time. I didn't have to pick the guy up. All he had was Roxanne's cell phone number and her post office box number. As I watched Roxanne's wild jungle of pubic hair turn into a pert thinned-out triangle I decided that I would drive to the address, and if I didn't like the looks of the guy I would just drive away.

"I love you," I said softly.

"I love you too," Roxanne said. "Look, we'll just try this once. We can get you a girl and try that out.

Roxanne sprayed the remaining suds and stray hairs off of her body and stepped out of the shower, drying herself as she looked at her reflection in the mirror.

"I should lose 20 pounds or so. I look so dumpy," Roxanne said as she frowned and made a face at what she saw, pinching her hips and butt. "Well, he did say he liked a full tush."

"You look wonderful," I said, closing the door to get ready to pick this Jason guy up.

After a dinner which neither of us ate, I got my jacket and prepared to leave. Roxanne walked me to the door, her arm around my shoulder.

"I know you're nervous," Roxanne said. "I am too. Thank you for going along with this."

I nodded and left, driving the 6 miles or so in as slow a manner as possible. My speed was not helped by having to pull over, since a wave of nausea overcame me. After going through a bunch of dry heaves that produced nothing but a sour stomach, I drove onward.

The neighborhood looked even worse than I remembered it from years ago, and as I pulled up to the address, I saw a young man move slowly down the stairs and I felt a shiver fly through my entire body, almost like I had been electrocuted.

My foot would not move no matter how hard I tried, and my hand would not move the shift from park to drive either. I wanted to slam my foot on the gas and get the hell away from there, but I didn't. Couldn't. Wouldn't. For whatever reason I sat there like a statue while this young man sidled up to the car and opened the door.

"You Roxie's old man?" he said, and I think I said yes while nodding.

Jason hopped in the car, and the air was filled with an aroma from some sort of body oil, which didn't help my feeling of being light-headed.

"You guys do this a lot?" Jason asked after we drove in silence for most of the trip.

"Me? Us? Uh - no," I managed to say. "Never did this before actually. Do you?"

He grunted something that sounded like "all the time", nodding his head in some kind of rhythm, and I noticed for the first time that he was listening to music. At least that kept him from hearing my heart pounding, because it seemed like it was clearly audible.

Arriving home much quicker than I had made the opposite trip, I escorted Jason up the walk to the front door, hoping that none of the neighbors were snooping, and when I opened the door Roxanne was standing in the living room.

She looked terrified but beautiful, wearing a yellow sleeveless blouse, black slacks and a nervous smile. I was going to introduce her, but Jason wasn't waiting for me, instead moving over and taking my wife's face in his huge hands and kissed her like he meant it.

I cleared my throat as the kiss went on for a while. Roxanne's eyes had opened wide in shock at first, but soon closed again and was returning the kiss with equal fervor. Were their tongues dueling?

"Mmm," Jason purred after they separated. "You're the real deal. Sometimes women send you old pictures of how they looked back in the old days, but you're looking fine. We gonna have some fun here tonight."

"Uh, why don't we go into the den," Roxanne said. "Have some drinks and talk."

"Sounds good, Roxie," Jason said, following my wife down the hall, and as he walked behind her he planted a hand right on her butt and squeezed it like he was shopping for produce.

"Hennessey?" Roxie asked as she picked up a bottle from the bar. "That was what you said you liked, right Jason?"

"That's right," Jason smiled, and as I wondered where the cognac came from, Roxanne poured our guest a drink.

"Dave? There's a tray of snacks in the refrigerator," Roxanne asked.

"Why don't you help me?" I suggested, and was relieved when she followed me out to the kitchen.

"You didn't tell me," I hissed when she turned the corner.

***

Chapter Four: What she didn't tell me.

"Didn't tell you what?" Roxanne said.

"What do you think I mean?" I snapped. "You didn't tell me he was black."

"When did you become prejudiced?"

"I'm not," I assured her. "It's just that..."

"He's black," Roxanne said. "He's very black, and no I didn't know. His letter didn't say anything about that, although his voice had a dialect that suggested it. What do you want me to do about it now? You shouldn't have picked him up when you saw he didn't meet your standards."

"It's not that," I said.

It wasn't that. When I saw Jason coming down the stairs, his jeans hanging halfway down his butt, I could have taken off without a problem. Something kept me from doing that.

"Let's get back in there," Roxanne said. "He'll think we're talking about him."

We brought the tray of cheeses and fruit back into the den and tried to make small talk to break the ice. I couldn't drink that cognac, but was deeply into a bottle of Jack Daniels within minutes, determined that I was going to be unconscious by the time Jason and my wife went upstairs to our bedroom.

"So you're in your second year of college Jason?" Roxanne asked.

"Uh - yeah," Jason said, his eyes brazenly staring at my wife's chest, almost as if he was using x-ray vision to see through the blouse and bra.

He stared like a wolf, practically licking his chops at Roxanne's heaving bosom. He didn't care if I noticed, and he sure didn't care if my wife notice. She had, and the evidence was clear, as her thick nipples were becoming visible through both layers of clothing.

Jason came around behind Roxanne as she leaned over and tried to grab a grape off of the tray, and he buried his face in her neck, nibbling and nuzzling into her while I stood there watching. The stark contrast of his jet black skin against her pale white neck was startling, and Roxanne's reaction was as well.

Roxanne rolled her head in response, her body seeming to undulate under Jason's affection, and her eyes looked glassy as he seemed to be grinding himself into her from behind.

"We're gonna give your Roxie the time of her life tonight, my man," Jason said, looking at me as he spoke.

"We?" I mumbled, the Jack Daniels seeming to be numbing my brain already.

Jason went back to nibbling Roxanne's neck and then went up to her ear, whispering something. Roxanne's arms went up and took Jason's head in her hands, her fingers caressing his short cropped hair.

Jason's hands went to Roxanne's breasts, and he cupped them like he was palming basketballs. The kid was only about 6 foot tall, my height, yet his hands were enormous. What was worse was that they were clamped on my wife's breasts and he was kneading them roughly.

I noticed that Roxanne was sweating profusely, as with her arms raised I could see the sweat glistening in the smooth recesses of her armpits. I was sweating too, and everything seemed to be going in slow motion around me.

"Much as I like the happy hour," Jason was saying. "I see something I want a lot more. Let's get the lady comfortable. Lead the way baby."

Roxanne was walking toward me, taking my hand with her left and Jason's with her right and leading us out of the den. We followed Roxanne up the stairs, and I noticed Jason grinning at her butt as it wiggled up the steps in front of us.

"Let me duck in here a sec," Jason said as we passed the bathroom on the way to our bedroom, and after he went in and got into Roxanne's face.

"What is this?" I asked excitedly.

"I didn't have time to explain," Roxanne said. "He - Jason wants you in the room with us while we - you know."

"I don't even want to be in the house," I complained. "In the room?"

"He says that's what turns him on," Roxanne said. "He likes to have the husband watching. Please don't screw this up."

"Nice crib you guys have here," Jason said, suddenly appearing in the doorway behind us.

The room was spinning, and I found myself thinking that this really was like a movie, only I was trapped in it. Or was I? All I had to do is walk out the door. Jason hadn't been threatening at all, and while he might have been a little bit crude, he wasn't mean spirited. Just horny, and horny for my wife.