Waiting at Home

My wife, Camille, and I met during our junior years in college and wed within a year of graduation. At that time I had had sex with only my high school steady and a senior engaged to marry her high school sweetheart back home. She being much less conservative than me had had sex with four others, two in high school and two since going to college. Though I told myself that didn't matter deep down I was jealous and, to some degree, wondered if she would remain faithful to me throughout our marriage. And even though my cock is slightly larger and thicker than most, something I saw in locker rooms, way in the back of my mind I worried if I was large enough for her. I wanted to ask her about this but never found a way to bring it up. In time, however, my doubt and insecurity just went away. Camille has more than proven that she is a wonderful wife, lover, mother and true friend. We've been happily married for going on ten years, have two great kids and a lovely home in a very nice, upscale neighborhood. I have built a successful company, while she remains very involved in PTA, works hard to promote our local arts communities, chauffeurs our children and their friends to their events, and helps to raise funds and donations for a refuge for battered women. She also works out regularly to keep her 34B-28-37 body toned and in good shape. I love and appreciate her more than life itself but, to be honest, with the long hours I work and the twice monthly three-day out-of-town trips, involvement in our children's activities and such, I am often simply to bushed to keep up to her sexual wants. Here too she is understanding and supportive, and what I don't give her she makes up for with her vibrator.

Then a little over three years ago while taking the commuter train home from a three-day business trip to Boston, I found a copy of Varieties someone had left on the seat next to me. I started reading the letters submitted mostly by husbands who enjoy watching their wives have sex with other men, as well as letters submitted by wives who have their husbands' knowledge and support to enjoy having sex with other men. They all said how much this spiced things up at home. It wasn't long before my cock was so hard that I placed my jacket across my lap to keep others from seeing it. And not long after getting home my wife and I were in our bedroom going at each other the way we did in college. She wondered what got into me, so I told her that I thought of her most of the way home. I did in a way, at least during the drive from the train station to our house. That's when for the first time in years I wondered how the sex was with her four previous partners. That thought used to make me jealous and insecure but at that moment I felt curiously aroused. And during our lovemaking I actually fantasized about her having sex with another man.

That fantasy along with reading more letters and experiences submitted online from couples who enjoyed sex with others made me as horny as ever for my wife which for the next six months left her with no need for her vibrator. She was thrilled to the max but very curious as to what got over me. I kept telling her that it was just her but still she wondered. Nothing about her had changed and my work and other demands were the same, so why this wonderful resurgence to my sexual needs? Then one day while rummaging through the attic and basement for things to put in an upcoming yard sale to raise money for the battered women's shelter she found the copy of Varieties and put two and two together.

That night while making love she told me that she met a man that afternoon. She described how they had a hot fuck in the back seat of his car, right there in the parking lot with people walking around. It wasn't true but she made it sound so real that it totally blew my mind, not to mention my load.

Then she snuggled up close, took my rapidly softening cock in her hand and whispered into my ear, "I found your copy of Varieties in the basement... and I got so horny reading some of the letters I ran for my vibrator... got myself off three times."

Then she moved down to take my sticky cock in her mouth, stopping every so often to say that there were many times when she wanted me to tell her about my fantasies and to tell me about hers, but because she sensed that I was uncomfortable about her sexual past she never brought it up. She said there was no way in hell that she would actually have sex with anyone but me but the fantasy of doing so made her as randy as can be. After she sucked my last few drops of cum out of me she moved up to nuzzle her face in the crook of my neck and asked if I ever fantasized about me having sex with another woman. The answer was no, not even once. But since finding that issue of Varieties on the train I fantasized about her having sex with another man.

"But wouldn't you like a threesome with me and another woman?" she asked.

I honestly, truly had no interest whatsoever in having sex with anyone but her. Then I told her that she was right about my early insecurity, jealousy and doubts over her previous partners, and how her being just her made them go away. I didn't admit it then, not even to myself, but deep down I was also aroused by those thoughts and feelings.

She told me about her first time, when she was seventeen lived in a small farming community in Indiana and while in high school, there was this one football player, an arrogant, self-centered jock who was thought to be one of the coolest guys in school, someone all the self-anointed "in" girls would gladly drop their panties for with the hope of getting pregnant and, thus, married. My wife, however, was not an "in" girl. She was pretty enough but too studious and, besides, she worked at the (ugh!!!) Dairy Queen. Her parents were not wealthy and she had four siblings, meaning they could not afford to buy the "latest" in cool clothes, meaning that she did not fit in with the "in" crowd. She dated some, not much, mostly with the "uncool" boys. Then one balmy night near the end of the school year, at the end of her shift at DQ, he just showed up to walk her home and, of course, she was thrilled that someone who just signed a letter of intent to play football for a prestigious Big Ten school on a full scholarship paid attention to her.

She had no idea, at least at the time, that some of his buddies bet that he couldn't fuck a goody-goody girl like her, no matter, because by the time they reached her home it was she who wanted to fuck him. She didn't like him that much but she wanted to somehow get back at the "in" girls who snubbed her by scoring with one of their most sought after trophies. She dropped panties right there on the lawn in her back yard on condition that he promised to not cum in her. She had him pegged right. He was into his own wants. He simply shoved his cock all the way into her virgin cunt, pumped hard and fast for two or so minutes then pulled out to shot his hot cum on her lower belly. Then he left. Her first might have been good for her ego but it just plain hurt. The only two things she enjoyed was to feel him cum on her belly and then for him to quickly leave. Within two weeks she got involved with her boss at DQ. He was thirty-four and unhappily married. He was gentle and sensitive and as much into her pleasure as his own, so for that entire summer before leaving for college she not only learned about sex but quite enjoyed it. And by the time she finished telling me about it we fucked intensely another two times.

I told her about my two lovers. The girl I went steady with in high school who let me fondle her tits while she jacked me off and, two weeks before I left for college, finally let me fuck her. We sort of talked about maybe putting something serious together after I graduated but then she got pregnant by and married a widower with four children. My other lover was a senior I met during my sophomore year. We worked at the same pizza-tavern and fucked like crazy every chance we got.. Then, after she graduated, she returned to her hometown to marry her high school sweetheart.

My wife told me of her other two lovers. One was a black classmate who died in a motorcycle accident, and the other a fifty year old professor. And with both the sex was good. But she didn't love them. She loved me, and that made for the best sex ever. I believed her, still, the mental image I had of her having sex with those others, especially the black classmate, so totally aroused me. In my mind's eye I had this exhilarating close up of a huge black cock stretching and stuffing her pink pussy to the very max. But the truth was that he, like her, had to work part time jobs to barely make ends meet. That meant they were too broke to go anywhere or do anything and, more so, they needed the rest of their out-of-class time to study. She said that she would love to enhance my fantasy but his cock was no longer or thicker than mine. The sex they had was the only recreation they could afford and happened mostly during brief study breaks. What made it most exciting for her, at least at first, was the contrast of skin color. But, like it became with her boss at DQ, it soon became a pleasant routine. Then he died and shortly thereafter she got involved with the professor she did research for in exchange for extra credits. That meant straight fucking twice a week at the back of a supply room. What made that exciting was the ever present chance of getting caught; otherwise it was merely a pleasant departure from her busy and menial routine.

Camille and I were two of eight students to share an old, somewhat run down and drafty five bedroom house just off campus. We both worked menial jobs to make ends meet, which left little free time for play. She shared a room with Carol. I shared a room with Tim. Within two months of starting our junior year, Tim and Carol moved in together, as did Camille and I. (Tim and Carol are happily married, have six kids, live clear across the country and we still keep in touch.)

She knew me, she trusted me, she believed in me, she loved me, and that combined to make for the best sex she ever had, with no close second. And nobody but nobody ate her pussy as well as I did, not even Carol. Not even Carol? Oooops, that just slipped out as I buried my face between her legs. But since it was out she said that one night the during the first month back to school with neither of them having had any sex in months they shared a bottle of cheap wine, smoked a joint and played "boyfriend." Carol was the "boy." She kissed, touched and undressed Camille the way a boyfriend would, which eventually led to Carol eating her pussy to a tremendous orgasm. They smoked another joint then Camille became the "boy," which ended with her eating Carol's pussy to a tremendous orgasm. They felt awkward about it. Neither of them was lesbian or even bi. It just happened. Still, their curiosity had been piqued and nobody would ever know so the next week they ate each other's pussies to multiple orgasms from the '69' position, but there was definitely "something" missing. That was about the time that Tim and Carol and Camille and I started taking more than mere house-mate interest in each other.

I asked if she ever felt any desire to give it another try with a woman. She said that over the years she had been approached by three different women, all of them married, all at various events involving our kids, and that had piqued her curiosity not enough to want to actually do anything with them but just enough for an arousing fantasy, something she took care of with her vibrator.

"Is that why you asked if I fantasized about having sex with your and another woman?" I asked.

In part, yes. She hoped that we could share that fantasy together, in the same way she shared my fantasy about her having sex with another man. And from then on I was only too happy to oblige her.

But with time and frequent use the sexual energy that fantasies create simply dissipates. So within a year of our opening up to each other's fantasies and desires we drifted back to our regular routine: That of being too busy and getting too tired to keep sex urgent and exciting. It was still pleasurable and nurturing but the gusto was gone. I still fantasized about her having sex with another man but was resigned to the fact that there was no way in hell that she would go through with it.

Then right out of the blue she called me at work and I could hear the excitement in her voice. It was Thursday afternoon, she was at our neighborhood community center helping to set up displays submitted by local painters and sculptors. Camille was close to breathless as she told me that a man in his middle twenties who owned a successful upscale art boutique at Saratoga Springs in upstate New York was there, and that everything about him – the way he looked, the way he moved, the way he talked, the way he smelled – had her so sexually aroused that her panties were wet. She said they talked mostly about the art pieces being put on display but the way he looked at her left no doubt that he was interested in her too. Then she asked if I was serious about her making it with another man. There it was, my fantasy, right there and I was too stunned to say yes or no. So I asked her if she thought she could go through with it and without any hesitation she said yes -- but only if it was for the both of us. My mind whirled, my heart beat hard against my chest, sensation exploded in my loins and I could only search for words. Then she said that he asked her to have a drink with him at his hotel after the showing closed the next night. My cock was growing hard and what I heard in her voice was pure lust, and it was up to me, all up to me. After a long moment I said yes, I wanted her to have sex with him – for the both of us. She sounded relieved as she asked if I could pick the kids up at school because she wanted to go shopping for the right things to wear for her date and would be a little late getting home.

I sat at our kitchen counter with our eight year old daughter and six year old son half listening to what they did in school as we snacked on Oreos and milk. My mind was on the fact that the love of my life, my soul mate, their mother, the woman who had so thoughtfully and carefully created and maintained this comfortable and nurturing home, was at that very moment buying new clothes so that she would look her best for a man she had just met and would fuck the next night. That's when the jealous and insecure feelings I once had about her previous sex partners returned, only they were now at least ten times as intense, all mixed in with arousal and sexual tension. In one moment I was angry that I said yes, and in the next moment I was thrilled that I had. The letters and stories I read online that were written by other husbands and wives convinced me that I was not alone with the desire for my wife to have sex with another man, in fact, I felt far from being alone with it. Camille was about to become a hot wife, and I was about to become a cuckold. This thought both excited and frightened me. Those letters and stories were about what the wife did with the other man, in great detail. But I couldn't remember any of them being about what the man felt when his wife was with someone else, especially the first time.

So to give it a rest, to level out the rollercoaster ride my emotions were on, we, all three of us, decided to cook a yummy-nummy dinner and to have it ready when Mommy got home. That meant homemade French fries cooked crispy and golden brown, grilled hot dogs and root beer. The kids set the table while I cut the potatoes then while the oil heated we grilled the hot dogs, and it was all laughter and giggle filled fun. Then with the hot dogs and buns being kept warm in the oven we started to fry the first batch of potatoes Camille came through the door. She plopped her packages on the counter then bent to catch the kids as they ran into her arms. They were so happy to see her and so proud because they helped Daddy cook dinner for her, and that just added to Camille's obvious glee. She came to give me a hug and a kiss, then asked barely above a whisper if I was all right. I was and I wasn't, something we would talk about after the kids were asleep. She smiled knowingly then whispered that she had to go to the bathroom to freshen up before dinner, which included changing her panties.

Dinner was all fun. The kids talked and giggled about their day and we listened and asked questions, and every time we looked across the table at each other we knew what was on our minds. Camille's eyes said, "Just wait until I get you in bed." And mine said, "Bring it on."

I read the kids a story as Camille showered and got ready for bed, and after they said their prayers tucked them into their beds. I showered and then as I shaved I took a long look at myself in the mirror. I was a successful businessman and good provider, attentive and loving Dad, loved my wife, was proud of our home, respected by all who knew me, not the most unattractive man in the neighborhood, and standing there with only a towel wrapped around my midsection saw that I was in good physical shape despite my busy schedule and closing in on forty years old. We had everything we needed and most everything we just plain wanted. So why this obsessive fantasy about my wife having sex with another man? Was there a glitch somewhere in my brain? Then I remembered how incredibly exciting and satisfying sex was after she found that copy of Varieties. And how excited we got while reading similar letters on cuckold sites.

It just got better and better for both of us. I thought about the time she came home from a PTA meeting, slinked into bed and told me in minute detail about sneaking out of the meeting to fuck the young phys-ed teacher in an empty class room, right there on a student desk. It was all make believe but it made us so horny we fucked with total abandon four times that night, something we hadn't done since we first started sleeping together in that drafty old bedroom – locked in fiercely passionate embrace between two sleeping bags zipped together. But over time the energy we got from these fantasies waned. And now it was back, suddenly, obviously more for her than for me.

Camille was naked under the sheet. As soon as I moved in next to her she placed my hand between her legs. Her pussy was hot and wet. Very wet. She turned to look at me and said that it had been that way most of the day. She took my cock in her hand as she said how much she really wanted to fuck this guy. She had no idea why it all hit her so suddenly and intensely. They were extra cautious not to give anything away to anyone, after all, she was a respected married woman in our community. She looked into my eyes and cooed that she wanted to suck and fuck him until he cried uncle. And with that I shot my load up into the sheet. Just like that. She quickly moved down and between my legs to slurp my cock into her mouth. And as her tongue coaxed the last few drops into her mouth I felt her whole body tremble. She gasped and moaned as she bucked her pussy against the mattress. She too came hard.

With both of us still panting and surprised at how quickly we came with no stimulation other than her words she moved up to snuggle in my arms. After a few moments of recovery I told her how so very aroused I was since she called me at work, and how my emotions went from excitement to dread and back, up and down, over and over again. We were married and had everything going for us. We were happy. We lived the American dream. The all-American family. Couples like us were not supposed to even think about having sex with anybody else much less get so highly aroused and energized by just the thought of it. But there we were, in bed and naked in each other's arms, our legs intertwined, with my throbbing cock already close to full erection again and her quivering cunt glistening wet. She kissed my cheek then purred that it wasn't too late to back out. If this was something I couldn't handle she would understand and cancel the date. Even after all the fantasizing and wishing and down and nasty, dirty talking slutty role playing we did about her fucking another man, and as excited as that made us, when it came right down to it actually happening I was totally divided. Half of me couldn't wait for it to happen, and the other half dreaded it. And I didn't understand either half. I had no fear of losing my wife to someone else. Just holding her in my arms and feeling her excitement made me feel good and secure. And the fact that she, after for so long insisting that we keep this a fantasy and not take it any farther, now actually wanted to go through with it didn't threaten me in any way.