Julie walked into the champagne bar in the dress I had picked out for her—clinging and low cut, drawing immediate attention to her gorgeous chest—and discreetly looked around. We were pretending not to know each other. I was to buy her a drink, seduce her, accompany her back to the hotel room, and fuck her like crazy—as any sane man would love to do to my beautiful, intelligent, sexy wife. Julie loves to tease me, and she would have done a great job of ignoring my ogling had it not been for the presence of David at my side. Let me explain.
I had recently worked up the nerve to tell Julie about my fantasy of having a threesome with her and another guy. Actually, "worked up the nerve" is an overstatement. What had in fact happened was that I had spent a couple of days fantasizing intensely about watching her suck another man's cock. One night she came home from drinks with some of the mother moms from school, a bit tipsy and wanting to have sex. I tried to oblige, but at that moment I was irrationally angry at her because I assumed she would take offense at my fantasy—the fantasy I hadn't yet told her about, and was too ashamed and scared to bring up. As a result, I couldn't get hard, which bothered her immensely; the mere sight of her taking off her shirt is usually enough to make me stiff.
Instead of making up some bullshit about being tired, I just blurted it out. I told her what I wanted, reassured her that there was nothing homoerotic about it, and promised that it was just a fantasy. She had never been very sexually adventurous, and was inclined to be embarrassed by things like dirty talk, using a dildo, bondage, etc. Not that I cared much, but she had also told me explicitly that she would never do anal. We had a good sex life, but nothing out of the ordinary. In short, I had no idea what to expect.
After chiding me for not having talked to her about it sooner, she asked me how fantasizing together would work. I had to admit that I didn't know, but said I would think about it. We went to sleep after that, but I woke at about 3am, too excited by even her tentative approval to drift off again. I wanted this fantasy to be exciting for both of us and good for our marriage. When I had asked her in the past about her fantasies, she always told me they were about settings and scenarios rather than about particular sex acts.
It occurred to me that the best way to fulfill my criteria was for one of us to start telling a story about going out one evening, then switching back and forth until we eventually ended up in bed with our third wheel. When I proposed this to her the next morning, she surprised me by saying that while she thought my plan was a good one, she would prefer to test her own aversion (or lack thereof) to the idea by talking it out while we had sex. I was thrilled by her willingness to "skip ahead," and would have loved to start then and there. But we had a busy day of kids' activities and other obligations ahead of us, so we tabled the idea until that evening.
That night, after the kids were in bed, we had the most amazing sex of our ten-year marriage. I had been afraid that verbalizing the fantasy together would be awkward, but as soon as we had turned off the light and lain down naked in bed, Julie asked me, "Is he here?" I said he was, and we were off to the races.
The things she and "he" did together blew my mind, and I had to keep reminding myself that this was my fantasy, not hers. We each came three times. To give you an idea of the mental barriers that crashed down that night: I had always wanted to cum on Julie's beautiful face, and had bashfully alluded to it on one occasion before we were married. She didn't react at all to my timid suggestion, and I figured then that it was a dead letter. But that night, a half hour into our marathon session, I was fucking her doggy style while "he" lay beneath her, sucking on her tits and slamming her into my cock with his hands on her ass. I told her he was going crazy from feeling her belly slide back and forth over his raging hard-on, and was going to get up now and have her suck his cock.
"You like his hard cock in your mouth while your husband fucks you, baby?" I said.
"Oh god, I love it baby," she cried. "I think he's going to cum soon."
"Don't forget to make eye contact, baby," I said, "he loves your beautiful green eyes, just I like I do."
Like all women, Julie loves compliments about her appearance, and her reaction left nothing to be desired.
"Oh god, he's cumming sweetie," she said.
My heart was thudding from more than the physical exertion now. "Good, baby, I'm so glad you're making him cum. Where's he cumming?"
"He's cumming all over my face and in my mouth, honey. Is it okay if he does that?"
Is it okay if he does that? I exploded inside her, then she turned over and we did it again.
We indulged our fantasy regularly after that night, creating new guys and new scenarios. Given who she was, one of the more surprising things Julie talked about was kissing our imaginary partners. I had always heard that women in couples who consented to threesomes usually drew the line at kissing the other guy, as some symbolic limit to preserve the sanctity of their relationships. But kissing was a very sensual act for Julie, and apparently well within the bounds of fantasy sex with another man.
It was only about two weeks later when Julie said to me, "When we started doing this, you promised it was just a fantasy, right?"
"Right," I said.
She was quiet for a moment, but I knew what was coming. You just can't fantasize the way we had, with the mind-blowing benefits to our sex and emotional life that we had experienced, without wondering if the real thing might be an order of magnitude better. But I didn't say anything. Each step of the way, the more initiative she took, the bigger turn-on it was for me.
"Does that mean," she said after a moment, "that you wouldn't really want to do it?"
"Would you?" I asked, ignoring her question.
She took a deep breath. "I think," she said, "that under the right circumstances, I might possibly be up for it." She was doing a pretty good job of sounding reluctant. "But only if you were into it," she hastened to add. I burst out laughing.
"What?" she said, "Don't laugh at me!"
"I'm sorry, I can't help it," I said. "Have you noticed how fast I cum every time one of your imaginary boyfriends shoots his load on your face? Can you possibly imagine me not wanting to do this for real?"
She laughed giddily, the way both of us had been laughing for the previous two weeks. We kissed like teenagers for the next few minutes, then I said, "Let's keep our eye out from now on. Maybe the right circumstances will present themselves."
The following weekend we had big plans-big for a suburban married couple with kids. Friday night we were going to a surprise birthday party for a friend of ours at a restaurant in the city. Saturday night was our "fantasy date," which we had planned even before our threesome fetish blossomed. We drove to the party with our good friends who live down the block and the drive itself felt like a party. Julie and I had been feeling like honeymooners for the previous few weeks, and we were really looking forward to an evening out together, even one surrounded by other people.
We got to the restaurant and had few drinks while the party room filled up and we waited for the guest of honor to arrive. About half of the invitees were people we knew from our kids' school or from park district activities. The rest were our friend's family and work associates. We all yelled surprise when he and his wife showed up, and then Julie and I drifted away from each other and into those ephemeral little group conversations that blink on and off at parties. After a while I found myself talking to-flirting with, actually-a couple of the moms from my son's class. I looked around for Julie and saw her apparently doing the same with a couple of younger guys I didn't recognize.
"Looks like Julie's getting kind of friendly over there," one of them teased me.
"Hopefully," I said emphatically. I wasn't much of a drinker, and for me, discretion has always been the first casualty of inebriation. The faces they made were those of suburban housewives who were trying to look scandalized, but whose lascivious curiosity had been piqued beyond hope of satisfaction.
"Do you need to go get her?" one of them asked testily as I withheld my attention from her to stare at my wife.
"I don't need to," I said, walking away without taking proper leave. I came up behind Julie and put my hand on her shoulder.
"Honey!" She cried. She gets very chatty and flirtatious when she drinks, and obviously was giving no thought to moderation that evening. "You need to meet David and Eric. They work with Jason (the birthday boy) and are the nicest young men. We've been talking about how they're having trouble meeting nice girls."
Julie seemed legitimately pained by this. David and Eric shook my hand sheepishly. Although the three of us knew they were gawking at my wife's gorgeous face and beautiful chest under the flimsy pretext of getting dating advice from her-we were all men after all-they didn't know that, far from being upset about it, I had come over to observe their gawking more closely.
"Tell them what they need to do to meet a good girl," Julie ordered me. "You're the expert," she quipped immodestly.
"Well, I don't know what to tell you about meeting a good girl," I said cheesily, "but if you want a lady like mine, I'd say stamina is the key."
