A/N - Hello everyone. Back again with another story that will no doubt receive mixed reviews. Anyone who writes a story in this category does so knowing what sort of feedback you're bound to get.
The idea of an open marriage or open relationship intrigues me, because I'm not sure about most people, but the idea of some other bloke fucking my wife or girlfriend? No thanks, I don't share. I've only ever had one girlfriend ask about an open relationship. Let's just say she's now an ex-girlfriend for that one very good reason.
Granted, most of the stories we read online (some here, some elsewhere) about open relationships usually come from problems with how they first started, or they were started after years of monogamy, and well, I don't think you can change a relationship so drastically and expect it to work in the real world without both sides in agreement and rules that are agreed and then both sides stick to them.
Anyway, I've written a couple of stories about open marriages and how they eventually fail. The first story I wrote isn't one I've uploaded yet, as it's entirely unrealistic (then again, this probably isn't either), and neither husband nor his wife is particularly redeemable. (Called 'You Got Nothing I Want'. I might upload it eventually.)
Usual caveats. All editing and reviewing done by the author with Microsoft Word. Spelling is usually spot on. Australian / British English. Definitely the occasional typo. Grammar can be ropey at times, but it's been a long time since I sat in a classroom. All mistakes owned up to by the author. Please remember this is only fantasy and I'm an amateur.
Comments and feedback appreciated as always.
*****
Louise - The Beginning
"I'm telling you, Louise," my best friend, Janet, said, "He's a man, no doubt a typical man. He's going to hear your suggestion and immediately think of all the pussy he's going to get."
"I don't really like the idea of him sleeping with others, Janet."
"I didn't say he would be sleeping with anyone, Louise. He's a forty-year-old man with his best years behind him. You really think he's going to be out nailing twenty-year-old university girls every weekend? He'll be at home with the kids while you can escape and live your best life."
"You really think it won't blow up in my face?"
I looked around the table at my friends and colleagues. "Louise, James is desperate to get you into bed," Annie replied, "Asking for this simply means you can fuck him without feeling any guilt or that you're cheating on your husband."
"Trust me, it'll be worth it," Marie added, "Hubby will be clueless about what you're doing most of the time, distracted as he will be by work, kids and other commitments. Just throw him the occasional night of sex to keep him happy and he'll go through life none the wiser."
I'll admit, the more we'd discussed the topic, the better it sounded. I'd been happily married to my husband, Mark, for eighteen years. We'd had two kids, bought a house, though it was now our home, two cars in the driveway, an annual holiday overseas. We both worked hard, lived comfortably, and we were happy for the most part.
But just recently, as I approached forty, something seemed to be missing. I craved some excitement. Don't get me wrong, my husband still loved me with every fibre of his being. Still a romantic at heart. We will go out on a 'date' at least once a fortnight. We didn't have sex as often as we did in our twenties. He still knew how to push my buttons, and my husband was still a handsome man. Driven to succeed. Successful at nearly everything. I knew he was a catch.
But I still felt that sense of boredom, that there was something more to life. And that's when Janet started to get in my ear about possibilities. Once the girls at my workplace also heard of my predicament, they were also talking about all the opportunities available. It was the 'modern world', they told me, and traditional relationships were going the way of the dodo. Couples now happily experimented and shared.
I wasn't sure my husband would go for it, but it didn't stop my friends from continuing to convince me. And it was this night that I was finally convinced to talk to my husband. I had all the arguments I needed to convince him. And, if needed, I'd just suck his cock, something I rarely did nowadays, fuck his brains out, and I knew he'd be happy to do whatever I wanted.
Smiling at my friends, they all smiled back as they knew what I was going to do. "I'll talk to him tomorrow night after dinner," I told them.
"It'll be fine," Janet assured me, "He's going to thank his lucky stars. Hell, if you need me to throw him a bone while you're out fucking some hot young studs, I'm sure one of us will take one for the team."
I didn't like the idea of any of my friends sleeping with my husband, but if it allowed me the freedom to go out and find a few lovers of my own, it was something I'd eventually find acceptable. The last thing I'd want is for my husband to build resentment while I was out with one of my boyfriends.
Boyfriends? I loved the sound of that. Particularly the plural. Before I met my husband, I'd only had three boyfriends, none of the relationships lasting more than a few months. I didn't have one-night stands. As soon as I met Mark, I never looked at another man, and I'd rarely had my head turned since.
At least until the past couple of years, when young men started at our firm, they wouldn't hesitate in flirting with me, and I realised I was still a desirable woman, and that men who were barely out of university were eager to fuck me. It does wonders for your self-confidence to know you've still got it.
Arriving home later that night, my husband would have been none the wiser about the conversation I'd had. I'll admit, the idea of being fucked by some young stud had turned me on, so I'm sure my husband was wondering what had come over me when I had him fuck me into the mattress that night. For the first time, I wasn't thinking or picturing my husband inside me. Instead, I pictured one of the handsome young men at work, thinking they're likely rather well endowed, and would take pleasure in making me cum over and over again.
It was only when he held me in his arms like usual, knowing he had no idea what loomed on the horizon, that I lay in silence, worrying about the possible outcome, and I released a few nervous tears, hoping I wouldn't start getting upset the next evening when I confronted him.
The following day was a Sunday. The kids played sports on a Saturday - netball for our daughter, rugby league for our son - so we always tried to do something fun for them as a family on a Sunday. It wasn't forced, and as they were both teenagers, they did prefer to spend time with their friends rather than their parents. My husband was a little more understanding that they craved freedom. I still loved time spent as a family. We did eventually head out for lunch, but it was a little disappointing as both kids spent more time on their phones than talking to us.
