It started as an experiment, almost a dare really. My wife, Bridget, and I had been married for over 4 years, but I knew that I had been the only man she had ever had sex with. She had told me this before we got married, but because of the way she dressed and acted, I never believed her. But afterwards, I realized she was telling the truth.
Not only that, but before we were married she had only been out with a few guys, and only two seriously. One, let's call him Max, she had seen for over four years. They had slept together, and done almost everything but have intercourse in that time. I knew that deep down she always regretted not having made love to Max.
A year or so after getting married, we moved back east from L.A. Bridget would go back for a visit to the left coast every year. After about four years of this, she and I began to have discussions about Max. She at first denied my hunch, but that was out of a sense of loyalty to me, thinking it would upset me. But unknown to her, the more I thought about her with someone else, the more excited it got me. At first horrified at this new aspect my sexuality had taken, I realized that it was an extremely powerful lust inside me, and it was better to bring it out into the open rather than try to hide it and be miserable.
After months of talking about it, Bridget was finally assured that I was being totally honest with her. We decided that on her next trip out to L.A., she would set up a time to meet Max. Not that either of us were expecting anything to happen, but she would get together with him, and see what, if anything, was still there.
The following month she left for her annual two week visit. She would be staying with her sister in Santa Monica, and she had called Max and they had set up a dinner date on that first Friday. This was actually a long and involved process, with not a few unexpected coincidences, which I won't bore you with. Suffice it to say that we had incredible sex right up until the day she boarded her flight, and I could tell she was very excited with her scheduled liaison. I had told her to call me as soon as she got in from seeing him. She asked what if it was late? I told her it didn't matter how late, since I wasn't going to sleep until I knew what had happened.
Friday passed with agonizing slowness. And the night was even worse. The phone didn't ring until seven in the morning.
"Did you have a good time?" I asked, knowing the answer.
"It was a wonderful evening. I have to thank you for letting it happen."
"My pleasure."
"No, mine. Trust me."
"Tell me about it."
"What do you want to know?"
"Everything. Start with what you wore."
"Well, I had on that short tight black dress you brought me for Valentine's."
"That buttons all the way down the front?"
"That's the one. Sheer black thigh highs and those spike heels you like so much."
"What do you have on underneath?"
"Now? Or when I left?"
"Touché. When you left."
"No bra. I had the first several buttons undone..."
"Just the way I like it."
"Apparently so did Max. Other than the stockings, just a pair of black thong underwear."
"He didn't stand a chance."
"I didn't know he was supposed to. Anyway, we went to dinner, which he had chosen a very romantic Italian place. Talk drifted to old times, and he couldn't take his eyes off me. I knew that if I wanted something to happen, it would."
"Were you turned on?"
"By the end of dinner, extremely. All that attention, the entire situation was so erotic. He suggested we go for a drive up the coast, but when we got to his car, I kissed him as he opened my door for me. His arms went around me, pulling me tight. I could feel his erection pressed up against my stomach. I knew I had to feel him inside me. I suggested that we go someplace private. He readily agreed.
We kissed some more once we were in the car, and then I suggested that we start wherever we were headed before we got in trouble. He drove up to the Westwood Marquis and rented a room. As we rode up in the elevator, we could barely keep our hands off one another. Are you sure you don't mind hearing this?"
"To be honest, I am a little jealous. But, Honey, you should feel the erection I have."
"And me not there to help you with it."
"Believe me, at this rate, I won't need any help. Go on."
"So we get up to the room. I sat on the edge of the bed and crossed my legs, letting him get a good look at them. He got us a bottle of wine out of the mini-bar and poured us some drinks. He came to sit, but I stopped him in front of me. I first undid his belt, then his pants, then lowered his fly. As he sipped his wine, I slid his pants down and he stepped out of them. I massaged his hard cock through his underwear for a few minutes, his eyes closed, enjoying the sensation."
"I'll bet."
"Then we quickly got him out of his shirt and shoes, and traded places. I wanted this to be very special for him. Sort of my way of saying that I was sorry for all the frustration I put him through while we were going out."
