"Are you sure you want to do this?" I asked once more, with my legs crossed over on the couch. It was a typical Saturday evening in our household, with my husband and I chatting about his new found fetish.
"I don't want to force you into anything you don't want to do." He responded, making me roll my eyes again. If he didn't want me to do something I didn't want to do, he shouldn't have come up with the idea in the first place.
"Well, how do you suggest we find someone for me to do it with?" I asked, trying to change the subject away from whether or not I'd be interested in commencing this plan of his.
"I have someone in mind..." He said, though looked away, like he didn't want me to read whatever was on his face.
"Who?" I asked. Then shook my head. "Wait... I think it's better if you don't tell me. It might put me off too much."
"I was hoping you'd say that." He looked back at me and grinned. Oh, god. He must've been planning something horrible for me... with that grin on his face.
Normally, I would've never agreed to something like this. The problem was, since we had two small children, we haven't been able to enjoy each other like we used to recently. It wasn't that we weren't into each other anymore, it was just that we never had the time to do more than the usual. We were both also extremely exhausted working our day jobs and trying to spend as much time as possible with our kids, which made time for each other... very limited. And so, when the topic came up for our fetishes on a night where I might've had too much wine, he admitted to me that he'd always wanted to have a cuckolding session, where he would watch while I got my brains fucked by another man.
In all my life, I had never thought I would be okay with something like this. But... I was a grown woman now, I had my fair share of sexual experiences, and now that I've settled down with someone I wanted to be with, all I could think was - why not? It would make him happy, and it would just be for a night. It didn't matter who the guy even was. I would be staring at Brian the whole time, making sure he was enjoying himself, and that was all.
Though... now that we were actually discussing this seriously, I had my hesitations. I had asked him over and over again if this was something he really wanted to do, and he had nodded eagerly, telling me that he had thought of this many times, and he would be completely okay with his wife being fucked by another man.
I had no idea why it bothered me so much... but it did. Did he not love me anymore? Would he not feel jealous about something like this? I know I would. It didn't make any sense, but I knew that fetishes didn't have to make a lot of sense, and that most people couldn't explain why they were into something in particular.
I was swirling the red wine in my glass when I looked up at him and said, "fine. Let's do it." The joy on his face made me realize that I had made the right decision.
"So, when are we doing this?" I asked. I was going to have him in charge of everything. The only thing I would have to do is be there for the guy, be fucked by him, be beautiful while doing so, and that was all. I didn't want to get involved in the planning process whatsoever, and I figured he would be turned on while doing so anyways. I could already see the bulge in his pants, an indication that just the idea of it was getting him going. I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes again.
It seemed he already had it all planned out. There was a famous hotel in the city, sort of a 1920's Great Gatsby style, an expensive one that'd we only been to once before when we finally decided to hire our babysitter for the weekend so we could have some time for ourselves. I had no idea why he wanted to pick something so beautiful just for a one night stand, but knowing it was a special occasion for him, I nodded my approval. At least I could enjoy the hotel experience while doing this. We would be having a fancy dinner on the 2nd floor restaurant of the hotel with the guy he picked, and then head to the hotel room and have a night of fun. He would be hiring the babysitter for that night.
Knowing that he had already planned it all out significantly, I could only express my approval and get back to my drink, my chest already tightening from the thought of all of this occurring so soon.
It will be next weekend, he told me. In one week, I would be fucked by someone other than my husband for the first time in a very long time. I wasn't sure I was ready for it, not at all, but I braced myself, and erased all the worries from my mind. It would be happening whether I liked it or not, so I might as well try to enjoy it.
-----
I was driving home on Friday night, thinking for the hundredth time that day I should just message Brian and ask him who he picked to join us that night. It was ridiculous that I had told him I didn't want to know. It would be better if I could imagine it happening before it happened, right? But it felt like it was too late for that... and he might not want to tell me anymore.
What if he picked someone completely attractive to me, and I actually enjoyed the experience? Would Brian regret his decision? What if afterwards, I spent a lot of time thinking about the guy, wanting more from him?
Or... what if the guy was completely disgusting to me? What if I couldn't stand the sight of him, and decided to call the entire night off? It would be so rude, and Brian would be so disappointed in me.
I had shook the thoughts from my mind as I reached home, and I dropped my bag at the counter, sighing to myself as I realized I would have to get ready soon. After having a light snack, I travelled up to the master bedroom, and couldn't help but stare at myself in the mirror.
I was a short woman, 5'1, with creamy somewhat pale skin, dark brown hair, and blue eyes. Honestly, without my blue eyes, I would've never called myself attractive. Though the men in my life seemed to think I was. I was an average size for my height, with a voluptuous bust and a pretty large ass, which I thought looked great against my waist. Brian always told me I had an infectious smile that lit up the room, and I tested that smile against the mirror, checking once more if I really agreed with him. With what was coming tonight, my smile hadn't reached my eyes.
In contrast, my husband was 5'9, with hazel eyes, brown hair, and a cute beard, which I had told him to never remove. It looked too good on him. I thought we made a pretty good couple, though I was too mad at him right now to admit such a thing.
I was still in my work clothes, and rapidly took them off, first my long black tights, then the blazer that was one of my favorites. I was sweaty from working hard all day, and just wanted to go to the shower and relax my sore muscles a little.
After taking off all my clothes, I stared at the mirror again, and realized that I should probably shave for the occasion. I hadn't bothered after being serious with my husband, and only trimmed from time to time so I didn't get too bushy. Now that I was meeting someone new, I knew it would be proper for me to shave more than usual.
Giving myself another exasperated sigh against the looking glass once more, I headed to the bathroom. Since I didn't have a razer of my own, I stole Brian's, knowing he wouldn't care, and crawled into the scalding shower to begin my work. I took my time at it, like it was some sort of ritual I was taking a part of. I worked my way up my legs, taking my time to get every single piece of hair, then moved my way up to my crotch.
I had never found a woman's crotch appealing myself, and had no idea why guys were so obsessed with them, and tried to not look at it as much as possible in my day-to-day life. Today though, I was focusing on every single crevice, trying to get every part of my skin as smooth as possible. I moved my labia from side to side, letting the razor move against my sensitive skin as much as possible without nicking myself. I was bent over in a very uncomfortable position, and felt my muscles relax as I moved back, appreciating my handiwork.
Next, I moved onto my armpits, making them as smooth as possible, and knew I would have to put some cream on it after so it didn't chafe too much. That was the worst part of shaving, really. The aftermath of it all. How itchy it was. God, the things I did to make my husband happy.
Speaking of Brian, I heard him arrive downstairs, knowing that he would come and find me as soon as possible. I had a towel wrapped around me as he slammed the door open, completely out of breath. "Are you okay, sweetheart?" I asked, the humor pushing away the anxiety in my chest.
"I..." Brian began, still panting. "I didn't want to miss you getting dressed for the occasion."
I burst out laughing, unable to help myself. "You've seen me dress up so many times before."
