It was a staid meeting on a late spring, Tuesday afternoon in a high-rise office building in Raleigh. The three o'clock afternoon break rolled around as a temporary relief from the tedium at hand. The attendees rose gratefully from their seats, stretched, refilled coffee cups, and relaxed.
I rose with the rest of the attendees. My function was to provide legal advice to two tech companies in Research Triangle that were merging their businesses. This meeting was to hammer out the final details. Things were going quite smoothly. It was just a routine and very stodgy business meeting.
I made the dull six-plus hour drive from my home in Atlanta yesterday. The meeting was scheduled to last through Thursday afternoon, and I would then make the same monotonous return drive home Friday morning. It was just a profitable but dull week in the life of an commercial business lawyer.
I excused myself and went to the men's room at the start of the break. As I returned to the conference room, I stopped in the hall briefly to check for messages on my phone. There were a couple of minor questions from the Atlanta office that could wait until later and one from my wife, Julie.
As I headed back into the meeting, I dutifully glanced at Julie's text to see what she wanted. My jaw dropped in shock as I read my wife's stunning, terse missive.
The message began with a caricature of a grinning, red she-devil placing a rack of horns on a doleful-looking man sitting on a stool. Julie is an author and a skilled computer graphic artist who enjoys making computer art work. This had the hallmarks of some of her tongue-in-cheek clip-art renderings.
The text under the figure read simply: "You said you fantasized about me with other men. Okay, you have your wish now, my little cuckold. Details in email."
I sat through the rest of the day's meeting on tenterhooks. I didn't want to explore Julie's email on my phone while sitting in front of other people in the meeting. It would have to wait, but I was dying to know what in the world was going on with my wife. This sounded insane.
My emotions were in a roil. Red hot anger and green-eyed jealousy raged in furious competition with one another. My wife was screwing another man and letting me know about it by text while I was 400 miles away; how else was I supposed to feel?
At the same time I was utterly humiliated and embarrassed. My bile boiled, and acid indigestion clawed at my throat. I broke out in a sweat, and my face felt flushed with shame. I realized that I had probably stupidly triggered my wife's adultery.
A month ago, as Julie and I sat in rocking chairs on our back porch one Friday evening, we consumed several stout Manhattans, well above our normal limit of one. We were talking about sexual fantasies, and both of us became pretty uninhibited under the influence of old man Barleycorn.
Somewhere in the midst of that free-ranging and unfettered discussion, I remarked that she was such a sultry little minx that I would love to just sit and watch her having sex with another man. I am not sure what triggered that observation. However, under the influence of the alcohol, the idea of her undulating and whooping in passion while I simply sat and watched seemed to be incredibly sexy at the time. What a dumb idea.
Julie just laughed and said, "Pervert! That's not ever going to happen."
Then with a quizzical smile, she asked, "That would certainly be fun for me, but honey, why in the world does playing the cuckold seem like fun to you?"
I shrugged my shoulders and said nonchalantly, "I don't know. I enjoy observing you when we have sex and especially when you have an orgasm. I guess that is all; you're just fascinating to watch when you are in the throes of it. Even, like now, just imagining you entwined passionately with a lover strikes me as highly erotic. Sexy nudes are a big part of the art world in painting and sculpture; maybe it is all wrapped up in some kind of genetic awe of the public sexuality of the female."
Julie looked at me curiously and just said, "Oh," in a thoughtful tone.
I forgot about the incidence until now. Obviously, Julie took it under further and more serious advisement.
When the meeting finally ended at 5:30, I begged off of going to happy hour and dinner with the gang by lying that I had a memo to get back to the office tonight. I hurried back to my room in a swivet and opened up my private email account on my laptop. As promised, there was an email from my wife.
It read: "Honey, you shared your fantasy about me being with another man, which was surprising and, I must admit, a little unsettling. Nevertheless, it was your personal fantasy so I'm not judging. We all have our own peculiar sexual peccadillos. You listened to mine sympathetically. So fair is fair, I'll indulge your fantasy too."
"Well, this morning I stopped in Starbucks for a Latte after making a run to the post office first thing after it opened. The line at Starbucks' was long at that time of the morning, and I got to chatting with this very attractive man in front of me. His name is Jim, by the way. He got one of those super big blueberry muffins and a gourmet Columbia-bean coffee, paid for my Latte, and graciously invited me to join him while we drank our coffees."
"I had planned to take my Latte home and get back to the grind of writing on my new novel - the one I have been working on these last six weeks. You know how those publisher deadlines have a nasty habit of slipping up on me!"
"But then I remembered your fantasy of me with another man and thought I could tease you a little bit about my having coffee with a good looking hunk like Jim. Did I mention Jim has blond hair, blue eyes, and is built like a Hollywood macho man? Whoo Hoo!"
"I only intended to flirt a little with Jim. Nothing serious. Harmless stuff. Just a little naughty something to stir up your cuckold fantasy and whet your male jealousy for our mutual amusement over a drink upon your return."
"Jim shared his muffin with me, and we chattered away like magpies. And then Jim got refills of our coffees for us. They really have delightful coffee at Starbucks. Anyway, Jim is a really sweet and witty guy. Very easy to talk to."
"Then your cuckold fantasy popped up in my mind again. It was like a wild colorful, kaleidoscope of swirling, sexy images running rampant in my mind's eye. Well, it is your fantasy request, so why not!"
"I don't understand your take on this cuckold stuff, I must admit. But if it turns you on, it is all okay with me. Don't worry about me; this is all for your enjoyment."
"Well, one thing just led naturally to another, and I brought Jim home with me instead of the Latte like I originally planned."
"Goodness me, I certainly enjoyed your fantasy! That well hung stallion smothered your wife's hot lips with fiery, passionate, probing kisses, sucked my tits until I squealed for mercy, licked and fingered my steaming pussy to orgasm after orgasm, and then deeply plowed and thoroughly seeded my personal Garden of Eden. It was all done to my utter and complete satisfaction time and again.
"Between his fingers, tongue, and dick, I lost count of how many orgasms Jim bestowed upon this old gal. Hmm, hmm, that boy Jim had your stodgy ol' wife singing the Hallelujah Chorus at the top of her lungs for over three hours. God, what a stud, and such stamina!"
"Okay, now I have given you an installment on your fantasy. You are now officially a cuckold. I'm not sure why that is a fun for you, but your fantasy request has been fulfilled in spades! Turned out I had much more fun obliging you than I expected. - Love Julie"
"PS. I have a date with Jim tomorrow too. He's stopping by after work for happy hour - and the happy in happy hour is not referring to alcohol! So enjoy!"
"PSS. You said you wanted to watch. That's not possible since you are in Raleigh and your wife is getting fucked in Atlanta. It is too distracting to try to zoom, film, or get still shots when I am having this much fun. Instead I attached some drawings I did from memory. I am sure that vivid imagination of yours can fill in all of the missing details. That should do the trick for you! Ta Ta."
Two files were attached to the email. They were Julie's skillful computer drawings. Julie had won awards for her computer graphics in college, and these were detailed and lurid.
One drawing showed Julie with legs splayed open and a man with his face buried in my wife's pussy as he kneels at the side of the bed. The man appears well toned but is largely obscured by my wife's shapely legs clenched around him. His obviously muscular arms loop around Julia's thighs and lock over her abdomen. No doubt he is trying to restrain my wife's passionate thrashings. Julie's hands are clenched in the man's hair pulling him into her. She is half raised with her eyes squinched shut and mouth open in an "oh" of orgasmic delight.
Over our courtship and marriage I have been very generous with gifts of jewelry to Julie. Last Christmas she asked for an armoire in which to store the jewelry, and I obliged with an expensive cherry chest armoire. Julie's drawing showed the armoire in the background behind my wife being eaten alive by Jim. She made her point that the physical ravishment of my willing wife was taking place in our marital bed.
Julie is the literary type and delights in allegory and metaphors. In Julie's creative style, the armoire in the drawing represents this marital pirate's rapine and plundering of my nuptial treasure trove while I sit helpless in North Carolina.
