It wasn't that our sex was all that bad, but the humdrum of marital routine seemed to have extinguish all fireworks from our sex life: rockets were not bursting in midair for her as we made love. I wanted so much to give her lovemaking like I used to, but whatever I did seemed to fall short and was way too tame to ignite any fires in my wife's midsection. I wondered what was wrong, then it occurred to me that married sex was too bland to do what I wanted for her. It still was great for me, but it obviously didn't make the grade for her. She never complained, but I figured that perhaps it was more married life than me, and maybe what she needed was variety: kinky, sexy, exciting, naughty fucking with someone other than the man she spent every day of her life with.
I found an issue of Penthouse Letters at the liquor store and looked through it at the magazine rack. Maybe this was just what I needed, I thought, as I looked through the photos and stories in an issue labeled "Wife Sharing Special." I bought it and took it to my car, then in the front seat I admired a picture of a naked woman on page 33, stretched out on her back with her legs spread, her pussy shaved clean, and a man on his stomach between her thighs with his face pressed against those open, smiling cunt lips. I pretended it was not her husband but her lover, and my pulse increased accordingly.
I scanned the accompanying letter in the section "Take Her, She's Mine" and the answer jumped out at me as I read. She needed excitement that an everyday, twenty-four seven husband couldn't supply, excitement that shot off her rockets. From that moment on I became obsessed with my wife's sexuality. Not our sex life, but hers. All I could think about over the next few weeks was my sexy young wife fucking other men.
At home that night, I jacked off to images of her with another man's cock between her legs, pushing into her, picturing it in my mind. I was marvelously stimulated by the notion of Claire having sex with other guys. I read every letter and story in the issue and right then knew what I was going to do.
When I was inside of her, making love, I imagined someone else's cock buried deep in her pussy instead of mine. I got off that night by imagining her fucking someone, and most times after that I'd visualize her being fucked. It always worked for me, picturing her pussy being filled by a large, hard cock. I'd come relatively soon after the fantasy began.
Each time my friend Jake was over, I began imagining him fucking her, or her sucking his hard cock, picturing his knob in her mouth. I visualized her lips over someone else's cock, mostly Jake's. In my imagination, she was always more eager than in real life. That's where the photos in Penthouse Letters came in. I'd see the people in the picture as Claire and Jake. It didn't have to be him, but it usually was. I'd see my friend's mouth pressed against my wife's pussy. I'd look for models in the photographs who looked like Claire--hair color and body type, but it didn't have to be accurate to work for me.
She'd never been with anyone else, as far as I knew. It just wasn't in her, but I had become completely consumed by the idea of someone else fucking my wife. If I closed my eyes during the day, whether I was daydreaming or just dreaming at night, the image of her fucking someone would surge into view. I would see someone's cock sliding into her vagina, imagined her lips curled over the end of another man's dick, her tongue tasting the flavor of his precome, licking across his glans excitedly. Jake became my wife's lover in nearly all of my fantasies. In the privacy of my imagination, my friend had sex with my wife nearly every day.
I was sure she dug him. They had been friends since before we started dating, so I was sure he was perfect for my wife-sharing fantasies. I obsessed about it for nearly a year, preoccupied with her make-believe extramarital sex, savoring the mental images of her screwing someone else. I found myself planning how to make it happen, and that's when I decided to bring Jake into my plans.
I constructed elaborate scenarios with images of her fucking him: sucking, kissing, using the couples pictured, substituting my wife in the woman's place and Jake in the man's. I wanted to make it happen.
I constantly read all the sex stories I could find, visualizing it just as the photos and stories laid it out. If a guy was fucking a chick from behind in a photograph, I pretended it was Jake ass-fucking Claire. When a picture showed a woman sucking a big, erect cock, I imagined it was my wife doing my buddy, and I savored the idea of her loving the thickness and texture of his hard on. She'd smile around his cock as she blew him. I wanted Claire to be doing Jake like the models in the photos did to the guy pictured there.
One story in particular that really turned me on was about a wife who was having an affair with her husband's best friend during the day when hubby was at work. For obvious reasons, I loved that story, read it time after time, and it never failed to produce a hard cock and an explosive orgasm. Maybe guys would think it was strange to be turned on by stories of your wife having an affair, but I'd constantly imagine Claire screwing Jake while I was away from home.
Why did this turn me on so? I have no fucking idea, but the fact was it did. Constantly. I began to drop hints to Jake, kidding him about eyeballing Claire, lusting after her, secretly wanting to fuck her. I was trying to let him know, without actually telling him that I wished he would fuck my wife. Once he turned and said, "Where do you think I was yesterday while you were at work?" When I shrugged he said, "At your house fucking your wife."
That day, believing he was just fucking with me, I asked him as we showered at the gym if he'd ever fucked another man's wife, but he just grinned, as if the question was stupid. When he didn't answer, just scowled, I asked if he had ever thought about doing such a thing. He said, "I told you I was fucking her yesterday."
Of course I didn't believe him, and I began laboring to come up with a strategy to get her to fuck someone else. I considered the old cliche, a night of drinking and partying and inviting Jake, getting Claire drunk and hoping she'd fuck him. I thought about leaving them alone and hoping it would happen. I realized that when Claire drinks she gets really sleepy. No way I'd want her falling asleep under him.
Pot does it for her, makes her horny as hell, but Jake doesn't smoke weed, and knowing that I figured she'd never go for smoking it around him. I considered the old strip-poker party ploy, but Claire doesn't like card games. Just to get her to agree to that would be difficult enough. Getting her to fuck Jake may be impossible. She'd have to be drunk, but then she'd most likely just fall asleep. To get her to take her clothes off around Jake wouldn't be hard, she's done it before in a hot tub, but I felt there'd be no way she'd never agree to adultery. That plan seemed like a lost cause and I looked for other ideas. I finally discarded all the scenarios outlined in the many stories and pictures I used for masturbatory fantasies.
Ultimately, I simply decided that first I needed to just tell him what I wanted, then see if he was interested, see if I could convince him to fuck Claire. I couldn't imagine him not wanting to have sex with her, so I decided the direct approach was best. I knew he had the hots for Claire, but I didn't know if he'd go for fucking his best friend's wife. I was afraid Jake was too ethical to do anything so duplicitous. I worried he'd never go for getting a woman to be unfaithful, even if her husband was his coconspirator.
The day we were at the gym and I asked him if he'd ever fucked another man's wife, he looked at me like I was suggesting adultery should be an Olympic event. "You fucking somebody's old lady?" he asked me as we were leaving the gym. I told him I wasn't talking about me, but he kept looking at me in that suspicious way, like he didn't buy it. "Then who?" he said, looking a little disappointed in me.
It was a perfect time, I figured, so I told him all about my fantasies, my obsession with seeing Claire fuck another man. We stood next to his car and he just stared at me, then finally he smiled. It was a strange smile, like he knew a joke before being told, and he didn't say anything. I told him I'd been thinking about encouraging Claire to take part in a threesome, trying to get her to consider fucking another guy or bringing another person into our bed for some three-way sex. "I think she needs to fuck someone else," I said, feebly attempting to explain my bizarre idea and not sounding like male sexual bullshit. "I have been thinking about it for a long time and have come to the conclusion that Claire needs some "strange" cock once in a while."
His expression went from a frown to quizzical and back to stern. He had furrowed his brow, but then his expression changed and he began to chuckle softly. It was a peculiar laugh because I didn't know if he was laughing at me, with me, or because he certainly would be open to fucking Claire. "You want me to fuck your wife," he finally asked, snickering as if I'd just let him in on a marvelous joke. "Seriously, you're inviting me to be in a threesome with you and Claire, your wife, the woman I introduced you to, and you haven't asked her yet?"
"Well, I'm asking if you'd like to," I said. "I'm not sure she'd ever do such a thing, in fact probably not, but I think she might like it if she gave it a try, if she'd loosen up a little. I think maybe she even needs it," I said, trying to make my case sound like I had only her interest in mind. "She doesn't know I'm thinking about it and I don't really think she'd agree to fuck anyone else, but I've become almost obsessed with the idea," I said. "See, I'd like her to fuck someone else, just for a change. You understand?"
He didn't nod or give any indication he either understood or agreed with any part of the idea. "What if you found out your wife was already fucking somebody else?" he asked. "How would you react?"
"Claire? No way," I said, certain there was no way she'd ever be unfaithful, even with my consent.
"Your wife is not as sexually inexperienced and straitlaced as you think," he said.
"Claire? Yeah, right," I said. "What do you know?"
