To Forsae All Others

Among all the sentences in the English language, there are few that are more chilling than "I need to tell you something." The words that follow that sentence are rarely anything the listener wants to hear. Confessions are confessions for a reason: a secret has been kept. That secret may be harmful or embarrassing – or both. For that reason, many secrets are better kept that way.

My heart sank when I heard those words come from my wife's lips as we lay in bed on that fateful night. I had just confessed my greatest sin to her, and her unexpected reaction was to confess one of her own. As soon as she spoke the words, my immediate assumption was that she had committed the same sin. She had been unfaithful to me. I couldn't stand the thought of it, and yet I felt I deserved it. Oddly, along with the twisted pain I felt in my gut came a sense of relief.

Rachel looked into my eyes, and I could see the pain and panic behind them. I shared those feelings with her. It felt as though our entire marriage – and the fate of our family – was hanging in the balance. The next few words from her mouth would surely carry dire consequences.

"What is it?" I asked. I couldn't bare the suspense any longer.

"You have to promise me," she said, "that you will just listen to what I have to say. I'm scared to death what you will think of me."

"Honey," I said, "I am in no position to judge you, given what I've just told you."

"Just promise me," she said. She was practically quivering.

"Fine, I promise."

She took a deep breath. "I...I like that you were with another woman. I think it's exciting. I liked thinking about it, and it got me excited...in a sexual way."

That...was not the reaction I was expecting. I had no idea what to say. I couldn't even wrap my head around it. Was this a joke?

"You think I'm a freak," she said.

"Uh, no, you're not a freak," I said unconvincingly. "I'm...just trying to process what you're saying."

"It's a fairly common fantasy," she continued, "wanting your spouse to have sex with others. It's just more common with men than women. I've been looking into it."

"You've...looked into it?"

"I needed to know just how abnormal I am. It turns out that I'm not as weird as I thought. There are websites, books, blogs, message boards, and entire groups dedicated to cuckolding."

"Cuckolding," I repeated.

"It's an old word that has been changed for modern times," she explained. "Technically, I would be called a cuckquean."

"This...this is all very..."

"Strange, I know. I'm strange. What can I say? I can't help what I feel."

"I know that. And you're not strange, so stop saying that. I just need to understand...why."

"I...can't explain it, really. It's just excites me unlike anything else. I put myself in the other woman's position and get so turned on thinking about how hot she is for you, how she wants to please you, and how you please her. I know how good you are, and it excites me to share you with another woman."

"How long have you had this fantasy?"

"It's fairly recent, I guess. Any time you would go away on a business trip, I would fantasize about some strange woman picking you up at the hotel bar and taking you back to her room to have her way with you. I would pleasure myself thinking about it."

"Why didn't you tell me about this?"

"It's embarrassing!" she said. "I'm so embarrassed just to talk about this with you now."

"But you can tell me anything. You know that."

"I know. It's just that when you came home that night and told me that Jessica was out with you, I got so excited. I've seen the way you two look at each other. The thought of that pretty young girl being so hot for you was so arousing."

"I'm sorry that I didn't tell you what happened earlier," I said.

"I knew you would, eventually. That's why I didn't say anything to you. I wanted you to come clean. That tells me I can trust you to do it again the next time it happens."

"The next time?" I said. "Honey, there isn't going to be a next time, I swear to you. I don't plan on ever seeing Jessica ever again."

"I don't mean with Jessica," she said. "I'm not entirely comfortable with you being with her, anyway. I'd rather you be with someone we don't know."

"What are you saying? You want me to have an affair?"

"Not an affair, exactly. Just sex."

I was speechless. I had been carrying such heavy guilt for so long, and it turned out that there was no reason for it. Not only was Rachel not upset about what happened with Jessica, but she wanted it to happen again. I had always coveted my marriage vows, and was a true believer in monogamy. I would have never considered having sex with another woman, and yet my wife was actively encouraging me to do so.

"I can't do that, Rachel. I love you, and only you."

"I'm not asking you to love another woman," she explained. "I'm asking you to fuck her. Let her suck your dick. Lick her pussy. Then fuck her hard and fast until she begs you to stop. Fill her up with your cum."

I had never heard her talk like that. I began to question who this woman was in my bed. Was she schizophrenic? She reached down and grabbed my cock, which swelled in her grip.

"I know you want it, too," she continued. "You want to fuck a strange pussy, don't you?"

She slid down the bed and engulfed my cock, taking its full length inside her mouth, in and out at a frantic pace, working me to fullness within seconds. She shuffled off the bed, removed her pajama pants, and mounted me. I couldn't recall the last time she rode me on top. She always claimed she didn't like the position. She sure seemed to like it at that moment, however. She clawed her fingernails into my chest and gyrated her hips with my cock was buried to the hilt inside her. She bucked back and forth like a cowgirl riding a bull.

"How did her sweet young mouth feel on your cock?" she asked. "Did she swallow all your cum? Did you explode inside her mouth like a dirty little boy? I bet you wish you could've fucked her tight little pussy, don't you?"

I didn't respond to any of her questions. I've never been much of a dirty-talker in bed, and I had no idea how to respond even if I were. Did she really want to hear how I enjoyed having my cock sucked by another woman, and how desperately I wanted to fuck her? Rachel continued to grind herself on top of me, back and forth, over and over again, until she tensed and shook with the powerful throes of orgasm. After holding me in place for a moment, she dismounted and took a position on all fours.

"Now fuck me the way you would have fucked her," she ordered.

***

As I sat at a table in a strange bar, I wondered what the hell I was doing there. I took another swig of beer and twisted my wedding band nervously around my finger. I recounted all of the events that had taken place over the course of several months since that uncomfortable conversation took place on that fateful night.

Initially, I was very reluctant to play along with this game, but Rachel was relentlessly persistent. I have an analytic mind by nature, and I tend to collect and analyze all of the data before making any big decision. With Rachel's insistence, I did some research online and found that what she had stated was true. As difficult as it was for me to believe, sharing one's spouse truly is among the most common sexual fantasies for married adults throughout the world. In fact, according to one study I found, "cuckold porn" was the second most popular search term on pornographic websites (with "youth" being the first.) Although I still couldn't relate to her strange desire, I understood why she felt the way she did, and respected her freedom to have whatever fantasy aroused her. I hesitated to play the role in that fantasy that she desperately wanted me to play, however.

One of the definitions of the word "forsake" is "to deny." To forsake myself of all others would mean forsaking my wife of her greatest sexual fantasy. Was it more important to strictly adhere to my marriage vows or to ensure my wife was as happy as she could be? I wrestled with that question for many weeks.

"Your wife is offering you a permanent hall pass!" she exclaimed one night in bed.

"I know," I replied, "but I honestly don't need one."

"You don't

need

one, I know. But it's fun to think about, right? You know how many husbands would kill to be in your position?"

I had to admit, the idea was intriguing at some level. The thought of going out on a date with a strange woman and ending up in bed together was something that had never crossed my mind until then. Perhaps it was time to step out of my comfort zone and reconnect with the man that I once was, seemingly a lifetime ago. Rachel put herself out there and exposed a part of herself that she found embarrassing. To her way of thinking, she had offered me an incredibly generous gift. It seemed that if I rejected this gift, she would see it as a rejection of her. After endless conversations and debate, I agreed to a trial run.

She had an elaborate set of rules; one of which was that she be the one to find "the right woman" for me. She wanted a role to play in this fantasy, and that was acting as matchmaker. She set about that task immediately, and seemed to get aroused simply by searching for my sex partner. Her sex drive shifted into high gear, and I did my best to keep pace with her.

She had a specific type of woman in mind for me. It had to be someone we didn't know, who lived far enough away so that we would not know anyone in common. This other woman had to be attractive, but not too attractive. Rachel believed that a single woman would potentially become too attached, so she searched for a married woman in a similar situation as ours. After numerous messages were exchanged, and online interviews conducted, she announced that she had found the woman to help fulfill her fantasy. I glanced at the photos this woman had exchanged with Rachel. She wasn't exactly "my type", but she was attractive enough in her own way. Ultimately, I agreed to meet with her. The smile on Rachel's face was something I will never forget.

I looked again at my cellphone and saw that it was now several minutes past the arranged meeting time. Perhaps this woman had reconsidered. I couldn't have blamed her for that, as I was moments away from reconsidering myself. Just as I put my phone down, I saw her enter the bar. She looked just as she did in her photos. She appeared to be near my age, and carried a little extra weight, mostly in her chest. The low-cut blouse she wore highlighted her best feature. Although I've never been a "tit man", per se, hers were extraordinary. Being somewhat small-chested herself, I had a feeling that Rachel had selected this woman based on that feature alone.

"You must be Josh," she said, approaching my table with a broad smile.

"And you must be Colleen," I said, standing and shaking her hand. She sat at the opposite end of the table and placed her purse on the floor. She seemed excited, but incredibly nervous. A waitress appeared, and Colleen ordered a glass of wine.

There was an awkward pause as we sat and smiled at each other, as if we were naughty children who were getting away with bad behavior. "So, I'm just going to come right out and say it," I said, lowering my voice and leaning toward her over the table. "This is weird, right?"

Her green eyes sparkled as she laughed. "Yes," she said, "this is very weird."

"Have you done anything like this before?" I asked. Although Rachel had chatted extensively with both Colleen and her husband, she had shared very little with me about this woman.

Colleen shook her head. "First date in a long, long time."

"How long have you been married?"

"Eighteen years. And you?"

"Seventeen."

The waitress delivered the glass of wine, and I raised my beer glass in a toast. "To first dates," I said. She smiled and clanked her glass against mine. She took a sip and glanced around the bar over both shoulders.

"Don't worry," I said. "We're far enough away from both of our homes that I doubt we'll see anyone we know."

She gave me a nervous laugh. "I know. I just...feel like I'm doing something scandalous."

"You are," I said. "We should probably come up with a back story, just in case."

"Great idea!" she exclaimed. Her eyes danced again, and I felt a connection with her for the first time. I began to understand why Rachel thought we would be a good match. "How about this? We're old high school friends, just getting together for a quick drink to catch up on old times."

"Perfect cover," I said. "I'll come up with a nickname for you, and you'll have to explain how you got it to whoever discovers us."

"Oh? And what nickname would that be?"

"That's the beauty of it. I'm not going to tell you until the time comes. I look forward to seeing your improv skills."

She giggled. "You are quite the devious one, aren't you?" Her smile was infectious.

"Oh, you have no idea," I said, casually sipping my beer. I mentally congratulated myself for retaining some of my flirtation skills.

She paused for a moment to take another sip of her wine, and seemed to carefully weigh her words. "I'm a little surprised," she said, "that your wife has set you up on a date with another woman. You're handsome, and you seem charming..."

"So far," I added.

She smiled. "So far. I just think that if you were my husband, I'd want you all to myself."

"I could say the same about you. You're very pretty, and you seem like a nice woman...so far."

She chuckled. "Thanks. I just...I can't believe we're doing this!"

"Well, we haven't done anything yet. We're just a couple of old friends having a drink together. Just me and ol' Colleen Two-fists."

"Colleen Two...? Oh, is that my nickname?"

"Maybe," I said with a wink. "Maybe not."

We chatted for over two hours. The longer we chatted, the more comfortable we became. By the end of the evening, it seemed as though we had known each other for years. We talked about our families, our spouses, and the strange arrangement in which we found ourselves. I was relieved to learn that Colleen was equally as perplexed as I as to why our spouses shared this odd desire. It was comforting to share this alien experience with someone from the same perspective.

We finished our drinks, and I paid our tab and escorted her to her car.

"Well, thank you," she said. "It was a good first date."

"Yes, it was," I said. "It was really great to meet you."

"There's just one piece of information I need to determine if I should ask for a second date," she said.

"And what's that?"

She closed her eyes and leaned toward me. I placed my hand behind her neck and tasted her lips. My heart raced, and blood rushed to my groin. She wrapped her arms around me and pulled me closer toward her as our lips and tongues continued their taboo exploration. I felt exhilarated and naughty.

We broke our kiss and I looked into her eyes. "So? Did I pass the test?"

She smiled and nodded enthusiastically.

When I returned home that night, Rachel practically tackled me when I came through the door. Although she insisted that she didn't want to know every detail, one of her many rules was that I answer every one of her questions honestly. I did just that as she peppered me with questions. By the time she was done, she was so worked up, we didn't even make it upstairs to our bedroom. I fucked her hard and fast as she bent over the arm of our couch with her pants bundled around her ankles.

***

I met Colleen at a restaurant for our second date. We greeted each other with a pleasant hug and kiss, and our conversation over dinner flowed even more naturally than it had during our first encounter. I was slowly growing used to the idea of "dating" again. I had forgotten how exciting it can be to meet someone new in a romantic setting.

After dinner, I walked Colleen to her car. As it was a bit chilly that night, she offered to continue our conversation in the front seat of her car. That conversation didn't last long, as it quickly evolved into a hot and heavy make-out session. Lips and tongues intertwined and hands roamed. I felt her breasts over her shirt and her hand found its way to my crotch. The entire situation evoked fond memories of my teenage years, when returning to "my place" or "her place" was not an option.

I thought that perhaps Colleen would want to take our relationship to the next level that night, but she fought the urge and we parted ways for the night. I promised her that we would take it slow, and that I would follow whatever pace made her comfortable. Truth be told, I wasn't looking to rush into bed, either. I continued to experience the sensation of guilt whenever I was with her. Although it was fading quickly, it was still very much a part of my experience to that point. Even with Rachel's full approval and encouragement I still felt as though I were doing something wrong.

I kept in touch with Colleen by texting her on a daily basis. It was her decision to have our next date at a hotel. The implication of what that meant was clear. When I relayed the news to Rachel, she was practically giddy with excitement. As the big day drew nearer, I grew more excited as well. The reality of the situation hit me: I was about to have sex with another woman. On the day I pronounced my wedding vows to Rachel, I never could have guessed that our marriage would take such a strange turn.

I arrived at the hotel well before Colleen. After checking in and receiving the room key, I headed to the hotel bar to help me relax. Colleen met me there a short while later, and we shared a few drinks together. I could tell that she made an effort to look sexy that night. She told me that her husband, Ben, had carefully selected her outfit. She wore a lace-fringed sheer top with a plunging neckline that highlighted her impressive breasts, and a form-fitting skirt with black stockings and high heels.

As always, I allowed her to set the pace. When she announced that she was ready, we made our way upstairs to our room. Once inside, there was a moment of silent awkwardness, which I broke by taking her in my arms and kissing her. She returned my kiss with more passion and enthusiasm than ever before. As we kissed, she began unbuttoning my shirt. I helped her remove it, and enjoyed the expression of approval upon seeing my bare chest for the first time.

Our lips merged once more, and I reciprocated her action by removing her top. She wore a black lace bra underneath, and as I kissed her neck and inhaled her sweet scent, I reached behind her and removed her bra. It fell to the floor, and I stopped for a moment to appreciate her large breasts. Without the bra, they sagged a bit lower than I imagined they would. I held them in my hands and appreciated how different they felt than my wife's.

I began to remove her skirt, but she pushed my hands away and lowered herself to her knees in front of me. She looked up at me with a sly grin as she unbuckled my belt and lowered my pants. She kissed my cock through my underpants, and continued to place hot kisses up and down the length of my shaft before lowering my underpants to the floor. She took my rigid pole in her hands and examined it for a moment.

"You're so big," she said, instantly inflating my ego.

She stroked it slowly and I noticed her wedding band. The taboo nature of what we were doing suddenly heightened the intensity of the experience. She looked up at me one last time, her emerald eyes sparkling with mischief, and then wrapped her mouth around my cock.

I couldn't help but notice how different it felt. Rachel knew exactly what I liked, but this woman on her knees before me possessed no such knowledge. I assume that she employed the technique her husband knew and loved. She worked up and down my shaft, synchronizing the movement of her mouth with the stroking of her hand in a steady rhythm. She would look up at me occasionally, perhaps seeking approval, and I gave it to her by moaning and running my fingers through her hair. Just as I was beginning to enjoy myself, she stopped.