I Watched My Wife With An Older Man 5 by cleo1234

I Watched My Wife With An Older Man 5 by cleo1234

It’s been almost a year now since I first watched old Walt trying to fuck my Anna on our living room couch. I wonder how different things would’ve been if I’d stepped in and stopped it right there. As I read back over my stories bringing things up to date, I can now see the slippery slope I traveled reaching my present situation. I’d never heard of the internet site you are now reading this on, until my friend and author Cleo said she thought by posting my stories, it might help me cope with all the misery my actions had caused.

I read some of the other stories here and frankly I wouldn’t have believed them had this stuff not happened to me. In short, I was naïve because I didn’t know guys like Walt and Albert – and eventually Tia and Bear – even existed. They simply didn’t travel in my circles. Yes, at the time I was all hot to watch Walt fuck my wife, but I didn’t cause it – he did. It takes a certain type of person who has the gall, the lack of human feelings to just take what they want, like Walt. Or, like Albert, to advertise their sexual pictures on the NET. Tia and Bear who came into our lives and wrecked it at a later date, were in a different category altogether. I’m not judging, just stating how I felt. So, believe my story or not, it makes little difference. I’m doing this for me – to cope – nothing more.

With that said, I urge others who consider contacting sex partners on Ebay and Creigslist to beware. After Walt went back to the Middle East and there was small chance of his returning on a regular basis, Anna became withdrawn and depressed at times. Gone was the old carefree Anna I knew and loved. I had to do something, besides – I admit it – I couldn’t wait to see Anna impaled of another big cock. What started out as a simple sexual experiment has now become immensely complicated, and will possibly end up costing me everything. Yet, neither Anna nor I can stop this train from moving. It’s all water under the bridge now, I guess.

In any event, our lives are so changed from the upper in-come, suburban couple everyone envied a year ago. My beautiful proper wife now admits something she never knew about herself – that she’s a sex addict – and I guess if I’d admit it, I’m a pervert. Anna told me recently that she can’t pass a man on the street without looking at his crouch and wondering about the size of his cock. She said she even fantasizes about the delivery boy and our yard maintenance crew. It sounds sick, but when she told me that, I got a boner so hard she had to suck me off before I could go to work. I know she loves me but that she doesn’t particularly enjoy having sex with me – it doesn’t have the same forbidden excitement she experiences when she fucks other men. She also needs the control they exhibit over her, which I’ve tried giving her but have failed to provide. I now know something about her that I don’t think even she knows. Anna is a total sub. She lusts after the big, rough, less attractive guys who’ll use her mercilessly, wipe their cocks on her and leave. Proud and cool in public, she’ll now do anything some man demands of her, when she’s like that.

I came home a few days in a row to find her crying. She didn’t want to talk about it but after my repeated prodding she relented. She said she’d spoken to a shrink about her “problem,” just an initial consultation. She gave me his card and said he’d agreed to tell me what he’d revealed to her. I told her it was a bunch of crap, but called him the next day anyway. Doctor Meeks told me Anna was indeed a sex addict. It probably had been a latent condition, and that some recent event or experience had awakened it. I knew that “recent event or experience” had been a guy named Walt, and that it’d all been my fault. I didn’t tell him that though. His analysis was different than Anna’s. He said the size of the man’s penis was irrelevant, except that it probably offered her the necessary pain she needed to justify her pleasure. Also it had been the feeling that she’d had no control over -or blame for – what she was doing, and that it was the forbidden nature of the act itself that had affected Anna so profoundly. Mine and Anna’s sex life was probably routine and sometimes boring to both of us, he’d correctly stated. He surmised she’d obtained such an adrenaline high from that first forbidden act with Walt in our living room that she’d since been trying to replicate it OVER AND OVER, since. She would likely continue doing that until she received professional help. That wouldn’t come until later, he speculated. Because, like with most alcohol or drug addicts, the sexual releases she pursued were so intense that she wouldn’t want to change until she’d reached rock-bottom, and had no other choice. Also, like with other addicts, if she didn’t get her “fix” she might go into deep depressions, even become suicidal. He told me the signs to watch for, telling me to call him. I didn’t even ask him about why I got off so much by watching her. I was afraid of his answer, I guess.

As her depression grew worse, I knew I had to do something. I told myself it was for Anna, and I still believe it was. I looked at all the emails I’d received on this site and on others, concerning my stories about Anna. Many wanted to meet her. Several had even sent me photos of their cocks. One in particular I remembered. The guy’s cock was immense; thick and long, slightly curved to the left. He’d asked for a picture of her twice, and I’d finally weakened and sent him one of her in her bikini. I figured he’d just use it to jerk-off but then I started worrying it’d show up on the internet. I vowed I’d never do that again. Besides, he lived in California. Much too far away. I’d heard of Creigslist, but had never visited the site. I was surprised to find such things as men seeking women, men seeking men, etc. There were even picture of men’s erect cocks, advertising themselves. From what Doc Meeks had said, I knew Anna had an obsession with large dicks, so I weeded most out right up front. One jumped out though. It was a photo with the face cropped, of a rather fat guy naked from the waist down. His cock didn’t appear very much longer than mine – certainly not the length of Walt’s – but it was as thick as a beer can. He said he was in Dallas for two days and wanted some good pussy. No drama, just a good fuck. I sent one of those anonymous email replies and it was answered in less than an hour. It said to meet him in the hotel lounge where he stayed at 7:00 PM that evening, signing it “Albert.” My hands were shaking with excitement and my mouth was like cotton by this time. I called Anna an asked if she wanted to get out of the house for a drink with one of my clients. Sounding in better spirits, she said okay.

When I arrived home, Anna was dressed casually in a light pull-over sweater and white shorts. As usual, she looked devastating. In the car she asked who the client was, expecting someone from my office. I handed her Albert’s picture – the one from the neck down – his cock sticking straight out. She just stared silently at it for a few minutes as I watched from the corner of my eye. Holding it in her lap, she looked back out the window for a while, glancing down several times at Albert’s photo. By the time we reached the hotel, her face was slightly flushed. We never spoke a word as we pulled into the hotel parking lot, got out and went inside. Albert was easy to spot. He was the only one in the lounge, a rotund, balding man in an expensive sport jacket and no tie. He smiled and stood as we approached, sticking out his hand.
“Hi Folks. Call me Al.” He looked Anna up and down slowly, as her face colored. For whatever shortcomings he had in the looks department, Albert didn’t lack for self-confidence. We have a drink and Albert asked Anna to dance a slow song with him. She reluctantly accepted and they moved off, Albert’s pants tented in the front. When he pulled her close, I knew she could feel it. He was shorter than Anna, but he danced well and they stayed for a second dance. When they returned to the table, Anna’s face was more flushed and Albert’s pants protruded even further. After another drink, Albert suggested we go to his suite for a night cap. Anna didn’t look at either of us as she stood and went along.
Albert had a small suite with a large living/dining area and bar. Anna sat on the sofa and I sit on a large over-stuffed chair. Playing the gracious host, he fixed us a drink and sit by Anna. I could see by his pants that he still had a hard-on. I knew Anna could see it too. When there was a break in the conversation, Albert just unfastened his belt, pushed his pants and shorts down around his knees, and laid back, his cock standing straight up.