I've heard that a lot of guys get off on seeing their wives fucked by another man. What sick fucks! Who would ever want to see another guy's cock in the snatch of your own special woman, whom you love and adore, whom you courted and married to keep her all to yourself for the rest of your life? Who could ever want those sweet lips, which you kiss in passion to be wrapped around the slimy dick of some other man? Who wouldn't recoil at the thought of alien semen squirting down her throat or up her beautiful vagina? What kind of sick fuck could contemplate such an event and not go running in a tear for the bathroom to collapse over the toilet in a series of dry heaves and hot sweats?
I was that kind of sick fuck, and it sickened me to realize it. Every time Priscilla and I were in bed making love, I kept thinking, I wish that every man in the world could see how beautiful this woman is, and what a perfect pussy she has. How they would envy me for what I possessed. I imagined how proud I would feel watching another man feeding his hot cock into her steaming pussy. I actually wanted to figure out some way to get my wife fucked by someone other than myself. I made myself sick.
We had been married for ten years now, but it was still wonderful. We both worked all day, I as an advertising executive, and Priscilla as one of the top market researchers on Wall Street. Of course she made twice as much money as I did, but what did that matter?
Every night we'd come home, tired, but happy to see each other. We would go out to one of the small restaurants in the neighborhood, and have a nice dinner and a bottle of fine wine, and I would look around at the other tables, and take note of all the other couples, and often I would notice that the man was much more attractive than the lady, and I would think to myself, "what wouldn't he give to be in bed, fucking my beautiful wife," and I would get so aroused that I often had to squeeze the napkin on my lap in my excitement.
It was wrong. It was perverted. It was un-American. But I couldn't help myself. My greatest fantasy was to see my beautiful wife get plowed by another man. To watch her suck his cock. To see another man's cock plowing her still-tight pussy or her virgin asshole, which I didn't dare to invade. But another man could dare what I couldn't dare.
And try as I might to stifle it, the sickness grew and grew within me, and I had to admit to myself that my greatest fantasy was to see my wife get fucked every which way by another man.
It got so bad that every time we got into bed and prepared to have sex, I had to imagine that I was some other man (other than myself) that was going to fuck my wife, in order for me to get an erection. She never knew she was not fucking her husband all these nights, but a myriad of dark and swarthy strangers which I had conjured myself to be.
I could imagine myself sitting in an armchair at the foot of our bed, while some monstrous brute defiled her. He would be lying on top of her, and his powerful buttocks would be clenching and hunching as he stroked his massive cock in and out of her wet cunt. I have always felt that the male buttocks were the real engine driving a good fuck, and I liked to imagine Priscilla getting a really good fuck.
I know that I am not the world's greatest stud, and I have always felt that I might have been a better fucker if only I could have watched my own strong lean buttcheeks hunching and dimpling as I plowed my cock into my wife's pussy. But that was impossible. How can you watch your own ass, when you're fucking someone else?
I jokingly suggested to Priscilla that maybe we should get into swinging. At least maybe try a threeway.
"With whom?" she asked suspiciously.
"Some other woman," I said evasively. I didn't want her to know what I really had in mind. She would expect me to want another woman. Any normal man would want another woman. I was not normal.
"No way!" She said emphatically.
"Well, maybe another guy?" I ventured timidly. I mean after all, that would be good for her, wouldn't it?
"Absolutely not," she said.
"But why not? You would love it. Imagine having two cocks at once. One in your mouth and one in your pussy. Just think about it."
"My mother didn't bring me up to be that kind of girl," she said. And that was the end of that. It was too bad she was so middle class and bourgeois, and wouldn't allow herself the pleasures of new partners and sexual exploration. I knew if she got into it she would love it. She would want to do it all the time. But how to get her started? I was afraid to even bring up the subject again.
Even though I couldn't bring up the subject with her, the fantasy haunted me. It was all I could think about. I started hanging around chat rooms on the Internet. People were really doing all kind of crazy unimaginable things. I wondered if it was for real, or if it was just their own fantasies that they were projecting. But it was making me very horny. I was spending hours every night with my computer instead of being in bed fucking my wife, where I should have been.
Late one night, she got out of bed and came to the door of the little room where I had my computer desk. "What are you doing?" she asked.
"Just reading the morning papers," I said.
She gave me a funny look. "Well, come to bed. It's late."
"Okay. In a minute." I shut down my computer. I had a pretty good hard-on from thinking about some of the things that had just been related in the chat room, so I went into the bedroom and practically raped my wife. I pretended to myself that I was Alan, the college boy in the chat room, who was describing how he had fucked every pledge in Alpha Theta Chi, the sorority next to his fraternity house.
"Oh, baby. Give me that sweet pussy," I said. "I'm so hard for you."
She was surprised. I had never been so aggressive. "What got into you?" She asked me.
"Let's fuck," I said, and began kissing her breasts, which was turning her on. Then I went down and began some serious work on her clitoris until she was screaming either for mercy or for cock. I gave her the cock. As it sank into her wet hole, I imagined I could see the two of us, as if from an armchair at the foot of the bed, only I was not me, I was Alan, who was very muscular and handsome, even though I didn't really know what he looked like.
Up to this time, I had been merely a lurker in the chat room, which was called the 'Forbidden Desire' room. I had been staying quiet on the side and not typing anything in, until one night some guy named Rocco Cocco 473 showed up in the room, trolling for some instant action.
"Any hot pussy in the Bayville, New Jersey area tonight? Big cock here needs to fuck wet tight pussy. Instant message me for a private chat 'Rocco Cocco 473'
I don't know what made me do it, but I messaged him, and we were on a private connection.
Tibi: Hi. (I was Tibi. Like TB----Theodore Bernard, my first and middle name.)
Rocco Cocco 473: Hi there, Tibs, baby. What's up? Tell me all about yourself. Are you wet?
He thought I was a woman. I wondered if I should go along with the deception. It was tempting. He was getting me hot. But then he would want me to send a picture or turn on my webcam, and what would I do then?
Tibi: Tell me about you, Rocco. Do you have a big cock?
Rocco Cocco 473: You better believe it, baby. How does nine and a half inches sound to you? And fat.
Tibi: It sounds wonderful. I wish I could see it.
Rocco Cocco 473: I wish I could see you. Do you have big tits? What size are they?
Tibi: Well, they're not very big. ( to put it mildly)
Rocco Cocco 473: You got a webcam baby? We can look at each other.
I had a webcam, but it was disconnected. And there was no way I could look at Rocco Cocco 473's cock without exposing my gender.
Tibi: I do. But it's broken. I'm saving up for a new one.
