"It isn't him. It is me." Angela, my beautiful young wife.
I nod. Not saying much. Just listening to her admit to "impure thoughts". Her words, not mine rising out of a puritanical upbringing.
"I can't help myself. Every time I see him, I just...." Her words trail away, ambushed I suppose by the emotions I can see raging across her face.
Human emotions and lust were not something covered in the curriculum when the training of Sunday School teachers. And certainly not in the Angela's upbringing. Prayer and Bible reading do not help when your hormones start to demand attention.
I had known about her attitude to sex and sensuality, "vice" as she called it before I married her but I loved her all the same. I will admit to having peaked behind the curtain of purity and godliness and seen something totally different. On two occasions before we were married, kisses became fevered and she allowed liberties with her body to which she responded to with a great deal of enthusiasm. It was the next day that that saw her repentant and angry at me for leading her from the "paths of righteousness". The first time, she made me swear that I would respect her purity or else face banishment. The second time she was the aggressor taking a chaste kiss on the lips to the point where she had my cock in her hand. Fearful of pregnancy or banishment I dissuaded her from going any further. It did not stop her from blaming me for her "sin" the next day and refusing to see me for a week while she "prayed and asked for forgiveness".
It was this incident that almost caused me to break off the engagement and head for greener pastures. Was it worth it? Did I love her sufficiently to adjust to her principles, live with her controlled sexuality? I agonised over the question and finally decided that I could, with the hidden hope that marriage would undo the puritanical rules she lived by.
I was only slightly right. Once we were married our sex life was lively but kept strictly within boundaries. No doggy style, missionary only. No oral sex. Bedroom only. Mutual masturbation was out too except as foreplay so getting her to orgasm was a exercise in complex negotiations. She never even mentioned anal and I never raised the topic knowing full well the reaction would be fierce and we would mired in a fierce confrontation that would roll on for days.
All of which is seriously frustrating because Angela is a beautiful woman. Blonde hair that, when loosed from its tight bun hangs down to the middle of her back, a pair of blue eyes to drown in and a body curved and just built for sensuality. Perfect breasts and a sweet, plump pussy that begs to be eaten.
Two years passed and we had settled into married life with a carefully ring fenced sex life. Of major concern to her was the lack of babies. It seemed that the only reason for sex was procreation anything else was sinful indulgence but the procreation thing had not happened and she was hugely distressed by the whole issue.
Actually she had started to thaw a bit in the last few months for which I was very grateful. I had put it down to her desperate need to fall pregnant.
George, the object of our discussion is an old friend of mine we went to the same school, had the same hobbies and interests. We hiked and surfed together for years. We had also shared girlfriends and lovers. George was politely dismissive of Angela. Told me I was making a bad mistake marrying her and that I would regret it.
The current tearful confession was prompted by me very casually commenting on the way she watched George when he was visiting. To me it was not surprising. George has this electricity about him that seem to attract women. Problem is, George is a philander of epic proportions his first marriage lasted about 8 months and ended up because he was bedding the neighour. Right now he is dating a voluptuous red head with large breasts, flashing grey eyes and sexual energy that overflowed any room she was in. The idea of them fucking brought visions of over the top sensuality. I must admit to being a bit jealous and had a couple of times fantasised about spraying cum across her breasts and face, while George fucked her. Something we had done to others when we were younger.
So when I remarked about Angela "perving" over George, I was not jealous, just amused that my straight laced wife was having lecherous ideas about my best friend.
"But", said a voice in my head, "something must have triggered this situation." so I decided that maybe I could work a change in our sex life if I could get Angela to admit that she had strayed physically rather than just mentally so I asked, "George getting to you? has he been flirting with you?"
Which prompted the the confession that it was her, not him that triggered the obsession.
"You just want to drag him into a dark corner and ravish him?"
"Yes." A shuddering pause.
"What triggered that idea?"
Silence, then eventually. "It was his birthday party. I had drunk a glass of wine too many. He was in the kitchen alone and I decided, foolishly to give him a birthday kiss. He kissed me on the lips, then slid his hands across my body and I didn't stop him. It was so sensual. And then he slid his hand up my skirt and before I knew what was happening, I was grinding myself against him. I was wet and wanting him to go all the way. Then..."
"And then?" I prompted.
"Then he let me go, stepped back and told me that I should ask you before we went any further."
