This is the story of how I destroyed my marriage by arranging to have another man fuck my wife. It was a fantasy I had dreamed about for years, and I thought for sure I could handle it. Instead, my relationship with a beautiful, loving, and loyal woman was left in shambles as I watched her get taken to scintillating new sexual heights by another man.
We were a happy couple, and I'm not just saying that. After nine years together, four of them married, we were doing just fine. I was working as an accountant for a small firm, making decent money, and Julie had a secure job as a high school English teacher. With our two salaries we weren't rich but we were comfortable, with a nice small house in the suburbs.
Our sex life was good, or so we thought. Julie was relatively inexperienced sexually when we got married. We met in college, and she had only one lover before me, a nerdy guy who was unimpressive physically. I could be described as average—about five-foot-nine, thin frame, not much of an athlete—but I matched up pretty well compared to her first guy. Anyway, Julie and I usually connected pretty well in bed, and she always let me know she was satisfied.
In hindsight, I now realize that our sexual routine had gotten somewhat predictable and limited, as neither of us were real adventurers. Julie and I didn't really talk about our fantasies very often, but occasionally we did. One of those times, I confessed to being turned on by the thought of seeing her have sex with another man. I said it in a way that let her know I didn't really expect the fantasy to be fulfilled, and she understood that I meant it that way. I was just being open and honest, and she appreciated it. The conversation soon turned to something else, and we both forgot about it.
Another time, as we lay in bed engaged in pillow talk, we had one of those conversations about who we found most attractive in our daily lives (aside from each other, of course). For me, that answer was easy—there was one girl, a cute secretary in the office named Maria, that I had been checking out for months—but in answering I didn't blurt out Maria's name right away. Instead, I cleverly took my time and acted like I had to ponder it, so Julie wouldn't think I was obsessing over Maria.
When it was Julie's turn to answer, she also had to think about it (or at least, like myself, she pretended she did) but when she finally responded the answer was no real surprise. "Stanley, I guess," she said nonchalantly. "He's a good-looking guy."
That was an understatement. Stan was a co-worker of Julie's, a gym teacher and football coach at the high school. Tall and strong, with a pleasant personality, he was the kind of guy who turned ladies' heads. He was muscular but not a musclehead, well groomed, with gentle blue eyes—the classic tall-dark-handsome type. It was no surprise that Julie, or any other woman, would find him attractive.
Feeling very secure in my marriage and not being the jealous type, I soon forgot about the conversation and didn't give Stan another thought until several months later, when Julie decided to host a cookout for some of her coworkers and Stan was among those who attended. Little did I know how fateful this day would be.
Julie's work colleagues arrived and I acted as the good host, offering them drinks and cooking up food on the grill. Even when Stan showed up, the previous conversation that I had with Julie didn't come immediately to mind. It was just Stan the friendly gym teacher, whom I typically saw several times a year like most of Julie's other work colleagues. Since Stan wasn't married it wasn't unusual to see him with a girlfriend by his side at social events, but today he showed up by himself.
The day proceeded uneventfully at first, with everyone seeming to have a good time. Some people enjoyed the pool, and I especially enjoyed seeing Julie looking very attractive in her little yellow bikini. At 29, she had a smoking hot body—she stood five-foot-seven, with slender legs, a tight little ass, and lovely 36C breasts that perfectly fit her frame. Her autumn hair and bright green eyes sparkled in the sun, and I'm sure every man there must have admired her.
Initially, there was nothing unusual happening. If Stan noticed how hot Julie was—and I'm sure he did—he didn't let on. He first spent some time chatting with others then went over and played some volleyball. After working up a sweat, he grabbed himself a beer and headed for the pool, which was where Julie and others were. I was grilling up burgers when I looked toward the pool and saw him taking off his shirt. I knew he was a good-looking guy, but I had never seen him shirtless before, and I immediately noticed how cut he was. This guy really takes care of himself, I thought to myself. It was then that I first recalled my conversation months earlier with Julie. Yep, she was right, Stan definitely is a handsome guy.
But still, despite my less impressive physique, I wasn't feeling at all jealous or insecure. I had spent my life being the small, skinny guy, the geek who succeeded in life without having been endowed with the greatest looks. To my credit, I had caught a girl that many would say was way out of my league, and I never had any reason to question the stability of our marriage. So the fact that there was a guy with movie-star and pro-athlete looks nearby, contrasting sharply with my own, was nothing new to me, and I didn't perceive it as a threat.
To be honest, when I first noticed Julie and Stan in the pool together, I spent a few minutes dwelling on my fantasy. Not that I thought it would really happen, of course, but I imagined having the pleasure of seeing her bent over the side of our bed getting fucked by Stan. Remembering now that she had told me that she found him attractive, it was even more fun to visualize the fantasy, although the rational side of my brain knew it was outlandish to consider it happening in real life.
