An adult stories – Hotwife Diaries Ch. 01 by dzmorgan,dzmorgan Chapter 1: The Setup
James
Dear reader,
My name is James, and this is a story about my wife, our relationship, and an erotic adventure that changed our lives forever. In the following chapters, you’ll read the virtual diary of my wife, Samantha, as she records the various steps of her sexual journey. Each entry was written as an email to me to keep me informed as I allowed her – even encouraged her – to explore her sexual desires during a week we spent apart. Through her narratives, she not only discusses the intimate details of her extra-marital affairs, but she also shares her inner thoughts and feelings. I add a bit of my own writing along the way to disclose my reactions to her exploits, as well as to provide some context for what you will be reading.
Samantha and I met and began dating when we were both 18 years old. We were married when we were 22 years old. The story of her diary began when we were 26, and since we were virgins when we met, I was the only person she’d ever slept with and vice-versa. For the bulk of our relationship, the thought had never crossed my mind about Samantha being intimate with anyone else. Why would it? Samantha and I loved each other very much, and we both felt sexually fulfilled. We were young, fit, and full of life. We had sex regularly, more days than not, and often more than once a day. There was nothing missing in our sex life, or at least that’s how it began.
You’re probably wondering what we look like. Samantha is a slender natural blonde with stunning blue eyes and the sweetest dimples when she smiles. She has a small, slightly upturned nose that shows light freckles when she’s been in the sun. Her lips are full, symmetrical, and perfect. She has the slender physique, limber arms, and the long, toned legs of a dancer. A healthy regimen of long-distance running and dance has kept her body in fantastic shape. At 26, she is just as much the perky, energetic young beauty she was when I met her in our teenage years. Although she is naturally fair-skinned, she develops a beautiful tan in the summertime from her time spent outdoors, often in a bikini to help reduce her tan lines. I like to tease her about how sexy her tan lines are to me – when I see the contrast between her sun-kissed skin and the lighter skin of her breasts and her backside, I know that I’m seeing parts of her no other man – or at least, very few – ever get to see. And although she rolls her eyes when I mention this, I know the compliment is well-received.
On to some of Samantha’s, ahem, finer features. Scanning up from her legs, you would find the most wonderful, lifted, bubble of a butt framed by her narrow hips. She has a cute, conspicuous freckle on her left butt cheek that I sometimes like to kiss. Her breasts are natural C-cups – slightly more breast than I can hold in each hand. Her silver-dollar nipples are light in color; although they tend not to stand very erect, they are well-matched and quite sensitive to the touch. Her vagina is small, tight, and symmetrical. She keeps her bikini area waxed throughout the year, for my viewing pleasure. The outer lips of her labia rest gently together, concealing her inner lips entirely within. Upon spreading her lips apart, her small, delicate clitoris is revealed. It goes without saying, but this is also rather sensitive to the touch.
I’ve also asked Samantha to provide a description of me. I think it’s rather generous, but here it is:
James has olive skin and dark, wavy hair. He usually has a well-kept beard or sometimes facial stubble. His hazel eyes are deep-set, soft, and caring. His nose is balanced, and his chin and jawline are firm but not protruding. He has thick, expressive eyebrows that I know he sometimes trims.
He’s around average or slightly below-average height, about the same as me, but I find that he’s the perfect height to cuddle at night and to kiss while standing face-to-face. He works out every day, so of course he has great muscle definition. He has the coveted inverted-triangle build, wider at the shoulders and narrower at the hips. He has well-defined back muscles like a swimmer, and his arms stand out in a tank top. His pecs are built from working the bench press, but they still are soft enough to lay my head upon. He’s a runner, so his legs are strong, and his butt is round and firm – at times I’m a little jealous! It certainly does the job of keeping his pants upright, and when he wears jeans or slacks, the material tends to grip him tightly. Despite all this, he worries he’s getting a “dad bod,” so I tease that he has the fittest “dad bod” in the world. The “dad bod” joke comes from James’s tendency to eat whatever horrible food he wants – or that I let him, I should say. If I’m the one baking cookies, he’s the one eating them. Because of his eating habits, he doesn’t exactly have 6-pack abs, but he doesn’t have a beer gut either. I tell him that his main issue is his posture, as when he stands up straight and tightens his abs, he could pass as a fitness model.
Because James asked me to, I will describe his penis. Per our measurements, it is about 3.5 inches flaccid (barring when it’s cold, he says) and 6.5 inches erect. From what we’ve read on the internet, his thickness is a bit above average but not overwhelmingly so. His dick points straight out when erect, is a uniform color that matches his skin tone, and does not have any odd bumps or blemishes. He is circumcised, and the head is proportional to the shaft. He keeps his pubic hair trimmed but not shaven, per my request. His testicles are normal-sized and very sensitive – any testicle play and he squirms, so usually we avoid that unless I’m mad at him for something (and then it’s on!). Overall, I’m very pleased with his penis and wouldn’t change a thing about it, or anything else about James. He’s confided to me that he wishes it were bigger, but I get the sense that most men feel that way a little.
Hopefully these descriptions give you an adequate picture. I hope you see us as appealing, as the upcoming stories feature us – especially Samantha – in rather raunchy positions. Alternatively, I encourage you to visualize us however you like, in whatever way you find attractive. Bear in mind that to me, Samantha is a perfect physical specimen, a person as beautiful on the outside as she is within, who I feel blessed to be with every day. Samantha says she feels the same way about me – that given the chance, she would change nothing about me. My hope is to give each reader at least a glimpse of that experience in your own imagination, with imagery from your own inner world. To that end, please indulge me in a brief mental exercise.
Take a moment now to visualize the “Samantha” and “James” you’d like to imagine. Perhaps you enjoyed the descriptions I’ve given, or perhaps you’d prefer your own fantasy couple. Perhaps you’d like to imagine yourself as one the characters, whoever you relate to best. Maybe the other character looks like your spouse, your hairdresser, the person you have a crush on at work, your favorite celebrity, or “the one that got away.” We could look like people of your own mental creation. Imagine me as a woman, if you prefer – the choice is yours. I would ask that you close your eyes for a moment and envision the characters’ bodies, what they look like in clothes, and what they look like when they’re not wearing clothes. Think of their faces – what they look like when they smile, when they’re sad, when they’re angry or perplexed. Imagine the features of their hair, or lack thereof – and their body hair, or lack thereof. Do you have specific images in mind? Good. Now we can proceed.
***
Let me set the stage for how my wife’s erotic adventure came to pass. One evening after a session of lovemaking, we laid together in bed reflecting on one of our mutual friends, Todd, who had always seemed to have problems in his dating life. He was our age, and although he was attractive and often had dates, he rarely spent time with a woman for more than a few weeks. We were discussing how Todd recently went on some dates with Samantha’s friend, Jenny, but that the fling had ended in less than a month. In my naivety, I remarked that Todd must be lonely and was probably feeling desperate for sex.
“Hmm, I don’t think so,” Samantha said. “Not from what I’ve heard.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Well, Todd and Jenny can have sex without being in a relationship.”
“True.” Her certainty made me curious. “Wait, do you have inside information on this?”
“Maybe. Jenny and I are good friends, and we girls do talk about these things, you know.”
“Actually, I don’t. I knew that some girls talked about that stuff. I didn’t know you did.”
“Not with just anyone,” Samantha assured me. “But Jenny and I have been friends for years. She likes talking about her love life, whether she’s bragging or complaining or whatever.”
“And was she bragging about Todd, or complaining?” I added a nervous laugh, as I felt a bit intrusive for asking.
“A little of both,” she said. She sounded playful.
“Oh, never mind,” I said, as my rational mind won over. Todd was a good friend. “I don’t think I want to know.”
“Suit yourself.” She turned away and pulled the comforter up around her shoulders.
I sat in silence for a moment, thinking. “Sam,” I said finally. “Do you tell Jenny about us in that way?”
Samantha looked towards me. “You and me? No, I don’t.”
“Well, why not?”
“You’re my husband, James. You’re different. Jenny, she just tells me about guys she’s hooking up with. It’s funny gossip, but nothing serious.”
“Oh, ok. That makes sense.” I was quiet again for a moment. “But if you did tell her about our sex life, what would you say?”
Samantha rolled over toward me and placed her arm on my chest, bringing her head nearer to my ear. Softly, she said, “I’d say that my husband rocks my world in bed every night. With his firm, strong body. And his big, hard dick.”
I felt my cock awaken under the covers. It was funny to hear my wife talk to me like this. I knew most of what she was saying was true, as we did have a fabulous sex life and had given each other many earth-shattering orgasms over the years. But I also felt a bit strange when she complimented my dick, knowing that from what I’ve seen and read about online, my penis was fairly close to average. Also, because my wife was a virgin when we met, I knew she didn’t have much to compare to in real life. Nonetheless, knowing Samantha loved me and wanted me to feel good about myself warmed me inside.
“Hmm,” I moaned, as my hand reached down to stimulate my restless cock. An idea came to me. I thought about how her friends, like Jenny, probably told her stories about various sexual partners who had different physical qualities than me, different moves in bed, maybe even some interesting kinks. I wondered what Samantha thought of those stories, given her limited personal experience, and without thinking, I started a line of conversation to explore that idea. I didn’t yet know it, but I was opening a Pandora’s Box of sorts.
“I’m glad you think my dick is big,” I said in an appreciative tone, trying to conceal my intention. “Good thing for me, it’s the only dick you’ve ever seen in person.” I waited, my hand slowly stroking my growing cock, and I sensed Samantha pause.
“I wouldn’t quite say that,” she finally answered. “But close.”
I stopped what I was doing. I was initially going to ask her what kinds of stories she’d heard from her friends that made her curious, but now I’d stumbled upon something else entirely. “Wait, you told me I’m the only man you’ve ever slept with. When were you with someone else?”
“Well, of course I wasn’t with anyone else.” There was a hint of defensiveness in her voice. “I’m just saying I may have seen a dick or two in person before, that’s all.”
“A dick or two?” I had abandoned touching my penis, but for some reason it kept getting hard. “Samantha – I’m intrigued. Would you mind telling me about this?”
“Oh my God, it’s no big deal, please. Trust me, I’ve never been with anyone else, and I’d never cheat on you.”
“I trust you,” I said. “Truly. But I have to admit – you’ve got me curious. I want to know what you’ve experienced.”
“Really? There’s not much to tell.”
“Please,” I said. “I love you. You’re sexy, and your body drives me crazy. I’m sure it drives other men crazy, too. I think it would be kind of hot to hear about your stories, of other men you’ve turned on in the past. I’m sure they’d be interesting, and – it’s hard to explain, but it’s kind of turning me on.”
“It is?” she asked. She sounded surprised. “It’s honestly nothing to talk about, but since you’re curious, I guess I can indulge you.”
I settled back down in the bed, placing my hand on my swollen cock, prepared to listen.
“Ok,” she said, “the first time wasn’t long before I met you. Remember how I briefly had a boyfriend before you? My first boyfriend ever?”
“Tommy-boy?” Tom, whom Samantha referred to as Tommy-boy for some reason which made me faintly jealous, was a football player at our high school. He was an offensive lineman, tall, sturdy, and somewhat overweight. He mostly rode the bench on the team and was known as a “gentle giant” at our school. When I first learned Samantha had dated him, I was surprised, as she seemed so much better-looking than him. Samantha was a late bloomer in high school, which protected her from the superficial “popular” crowd. I’m sure it was the only reason I had a chance with her, as she always valued personality over looks. Anyhow, I went on, “Didn’t you only date him for a couple of weeks?”
“I did. We were both very timid, I was surprised when it happened. I think we only kissed maybe two or three times.”
“But at some point you saw his dick?” My tone of shock was meant to mask my excitement.
“Yes. Well, more like I felt it. We were in the pool at his parents’ house. Everyone else had gone inside and it was getting dark when he grabbed me and started kissing me. I remember his hands moved down to my ass, and it felt surreal, as it was the first time a guy had ever touched me that way.” I imagined Samantha as a cute, vibrant 18-year-old, wearing her small, black-and-white striped bikini in a pool with that big oaf, Tom. I saw his hands sliding down and touching her backside, first over the cloth of her bikini bottoms and then finding the flesh of her lovely ass that the bottoms didn’t quite cover. In that moment, I felt both like Tom and myself, taking the place of Tom in Sam’s memory while feeling aroused and deeply jealous.
“And then?” I urged her forward with her story while my hand picked up speed on my cock. She could clearly tell I was aroused by this, although she was likely confused about why. Nevertheless, she continued in her sexy, low voice.
“As he squeezed my ass, he pulled me closer to him, closer to his body. At first, I felt my stomach press against his belly. But as he pulled me tighter into him, I could feel his hard cock poking me in the abdomen. It was my first time feeling a penis.”
My eyes closed tight, and I was engrossed in the imagery she cast in my mind. “Did you know at that point? Did you know right away that you were feeling his penis?”
“I did. It was pretty obvious.”
My stomach lurched. Something about the way she said that made me feel even more jealous, but also more aroused. “It was obvious, huh? You mean, it was really big?”
Samantha laughed. “Oh my God, no. I meant it was obvious because of what we were doing. Looking back, I actually think it was probably pretty small.”
“Oh.” I laughed nervously again, both relieved and a little let down. “You mean you could tell?”
“Well, as we were kissing, he eventually untied his swimming shorts and maneuvered my hand toward his cock. I remember feeling it in my hand, thinking about how I was actually holding a boy’s hard cock, a cock that I had made hard myself. I didn’t know what to expect, but like I said, I think it was kind of small. I think my hand covered most of its length, and it didn’t feel all that thick either. It was very hard though, I was a little surprised.”
“What did you think about it? Did you know at the time that it was small?”
“I don’t think I knew. The whole situation was new to me, and I had no real comparison back then. I wasn’t really judging his cock, just thinking about the fact that I was holding it, that it felt so hard, and that it was me who had made it that way. I liked the feeling, it was sort of – empowering.”
“That makes sense,” I said. I tried to put myself in her shoes, considering how a young woman would feel when touching a man’s hard cock for the first time. Empowering – that made sense. “And what happened next?”
“Well, I don’t think I was holding his cock for much more than a minute before his mom came outside and called for us to come in. She couldn’t see what were doing, so we felt like we got away with it.”
“I see,” I said. I was still imagining the scene.
“You know,” she went on. “I didn’t know his dick was small until the first time I was with you.” She looked up into my eyes. “When I first pulled your cock out, I was so impressed.” She reached for my erection under the covers, and I relinquished control. She massaged me gently as she continued. “Tom was a big guy, so I assumed his penis was proportional. But when I saw yours, I was like, ‘Damn.’ It made me forget about his in a second.”
“Thanks, babe. I’m glad I make you happy.” My mind briefly flashed to the first time I revealed my manhood to her, the first time any girl had seen my penis, her reaction of telling me it was “so big,” and how that comment had filled me with joy. But the memory was fleeting, and that’s a story for another time. I closed my eyes and let her stroke me for a few more seconds, waiting to hear if she’d say any more. Eventually, I broke the silence.
“Was that it?” I asked. “Did anything like that ever happen with Tom again?”
“No,” she replied, letting go of my dick. “We broke up pretty soon after that. It didn’t have anything to do with what happened in the pool,” she added quickly. “I just wasn’t that into him. He seemed a little too immature for me – too boyish.”
I brushed the imagery away. The excitement of the story had ended, but my penis was still hard, and I hadn’t finished. I felt a little too tired for more intercourse, but I wondered if I could still get information that would help me achieve an orgasm.
“Samantha,” I said gently.
“Hmm?” she asked absently, clearly starting to drift.
“You know, you said you’ve seen two other penises before.”
“I did? Yeah, I guess I said that.”
The idea of a second story intrigued me even more. I had forgotten about her first boyfriend Tom because he was such a minor detail in her life. But I knew for a fact that she hadn’t dated anyone else but Tom and me. What was this second story she had in mind? When did this happen?
“Care to tell me about it?”
“Maybe,” she said, clearly hesitant. “Promise not to get mad?”
Another unexpected turn. Had she done something wrong? She already said she hadn’t cheated on me. I felt panicked chills run through my body, but I needed her to go on. “I can’t make that promise,” I said, “But I think I need to know.”
“I didn’t cheat on you,” she assured me again. “Trust me, nothing like that happened.”
“Ok. Thanks for telling me. But I’m still dying to know – what did happen?”
She went on. “It was back in college. Remember when my dance team went out of state to the team competition one summer? The one where we made it to the semi-finals?”
“Of course,” I said. I hadn’t traveled with her that occasion, as I was working a summer job at the time to earn some money. “So what happened?”
“Well, at the same time as the dance competition, there was a basketball clinic taking place at the university. Both the basketball players and the dancers were housed in dormitories that were vacant during the summer term.”
“Ok.” I was eager for her to continue. “Go on.”
“One night, a group of us girls met in one of the dorm rooms with a few of the basketball players. I never told you because we did some drinking that night, and I know you were nervous about me drinking when you weren’t around.”
“I remember. I don’t mind the drinking. What happened at the party?”
“We started playing some drinking games – King’s cup, flip cup, fuck the dealer, normal college stuff, you know? And I could tell one of the basketball players was eyeing me all night, giving me ‘the look.’ He was tall, of course, over 6 foot. He was reasonably handsome, dark features -.”
“Ok, ok,” I said, slightly annoyed that she had used the word handsome. “So what, he whipped his penis out at the party or something?” I wanted her to move forward, and my jealousy started to come out in my tone.
“No,” she said. “But with all the drinking going on and my low tolerance for alcohol at the time, I started to feel drunk pretty fast, and then a little sick. I asked one of the girls to walk me back to our dorm, but she said no. I wasn’t sure I could find my way across campus on my own, so of course, this guy who was eyeing me offered to walk me back.”
“How chivalrous,” I said, taking offense. I could imagine what was on his mind.
“I remember walking back across the campus,” she went on, “trying desperately to drop hints that I had a boyfriend whom I was crazy about. But he kept changing the topic, commenting on how nice the air felt that night, how pretty I looked in the moonlight. I remember he was wearing a loose tank top that showed his long, toned arms, and he had on basketball shorts that didn’t quite contain his junk very well – I’m pretty sure he wasn’t wearing any underwear.”
“Really?” I tried to soften my tone, not wanting to discourage Samantha from telling me all the details. “Were you looking?”
“I guess a little. I mean, I think he was trying to make it obvious, he kept pulling his shorts up in a way that showed the outline of his penis.”
“And? What did you think?”
“Honestly, I was trying to ignore it. Again, I just wanted to get home and kept trying to talk about you. Eventually, we arrived at my door. When we got there, I tried to take the keycard out of my purse, but I fumbled and dropped it. He picked it up before I could reach it, and he used it to open the door and let himself inside.”
“That creep!” I said, feeling defensive of my wife.
“I was taken aback,” she said, “but he was so casual about it. He said, ‘Let me just make sure you can get yourself in bed. Then I’ll leave.'”
“Wait,” I said. The image wasn’t quite complete in my mind. “What were you wearing?”
“Dance shorts,” she said. “And a t-shirt.” I knew of the shorts she was talking about. They were short, tight, and left little to the imagination. “I was basically already in my pajamas. But I was feeling nauseous, so I went straight into the bathroom. He stayed in the bedroom while I splashed some water on my face and attempted to sober up. I nearly got sick and hardly remembered he was in there. But when I left the bathroom, there he was, just lying on my bed. Naked.”
“Completely naked?!” I asked. “That must have been horrifying for you!”
“It kind of was,” she admitted. “His dick was already erect even, and he was leaning back on the bed, presenting it to me as if he were proud of it.”
“So, what did you think? Did he have something to be proud of?”
“He did. I mean, if you’re into that sort of thing.”
“So, it was big?”
“Yes. It may in part have been the angle, but it looked pretty huge. He held one hand around the base of it by his balls, and I’m betting he could fit two more hands around the shaft before getting to the head.” I heard a tone of awe in her voice.
“Did – did you like it?”
“Hell, no!” she answered. “I was drunk as hell and wanted him to get the heck out so I could sleep! I already told that dumb asshole that I wasn’t interested and had a boyfriend, but I guess he didn’t take no for an answer. Well, anyway, his little stunt sobered me up pretty quick. I grabbed a hairbrush from the desk and chucked it at him, screaming at him to get out. He jumped up, grabbed his clothes and struggled to pull his shorts up over his erection, shouting, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry!’ The only reason I didn’t freak out more is because of how sorry he seemed and how quickly he left. I suppose a person could feel traumatized by the experience, but I was just glad it was over. I went instantly to sleep, woke up hung over the next morning, and moved on with my life. It really meant nothing to me, but looking back, I guess I should have told you.”
I appreciated her assurances. I actually thought that she was right not to tell me, because in the heat of the moment, I’m sure I would have freaked out and called the police. The whole aftermath may have then made the situation even more traumatizing, whereas Samantha had preferred to just put it behind her.
“So, what do you think?” she asked. “Are you mad? Disturbed?”
I reflected. My erection was gone, totally ruined by my outrage about the guy’s behavior. It was curious that her first story made me so aroused, but this one just made me shocked and upset. “Disturbed? I’m disturbed about him. I’m glad you were okay and that it didn’t traumatize you. But did you think about it much after the fact?”
“Not really. It felt a lot better to just pretend it didn’t happen.”
“That makes sense. But I wonder – clearly his cock was bigger than Tom’s. I assume it was bigger than mine too.” There was that pit in my stomach again, the mix of arousal and jealousy.
“Well, yes,” she said. “But of course, that didn’t matter to me.”
“I know, I know,” I assured her. “But it was the biggest cock you had ever seen. Didn’t it make you a little curious?”
“Like curious how?” she asked suspiciously.
“Like, curious what it would feel like. Inside of you. I mean, some women swear that big cocks are better, that they feel better, or are more intense.”
“What women?” she challenged.
“Internet women,” I said sheepishly. “Like, women in forums on the Internet. Or women in movies or on TV, alluding to the glory of a giant cock. Don’t tell me your girlfriends haven’t bragged about a guy with a big penis.”
“Okay, I won’t lie. I may have heard that before.”
“And haven’t you been curious about it?”
“Not really, I’m satisfied with what I have. I’ve only ever wanted you, I’ve never needed anything else.”
“I’m touched, honey, truly.” I made sure to look her in the eyes. “I love you, and I know you’d never want to cheat on me.”
“Of course not.”
“But I guess what I’m asking is – haven’t you ever wondered? Haven’t you heard another woman talking about it, or seen it in porn, or thought back to that basketball player and had a moment of curiosity?”
She paused. “Fine,” she said finally. “I guess as a passing thought, but nothing serious.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“For what?” she asked.
“For being honest with me. I asked you a sensitive question, and you were honest with me. I appreciate it.”
“Okay,” she said. “You’re welcome. But really, it’s getting late, and those are all the stories I have. Can we go to sleep, babe?”
“Of course,” I said. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” And as I felt her drift off to sleep, I imagined her in the dormitory with the basketball player. Instead of chasing him out, she approaches him timidly, reaching for his giant cock and then stroking it with gently with her hand. The fantasy continues until Samantha is straddling his dick, the obscene length of it unable to push fully into her womanhood, his shaft and balls protruding from beneath her beautiful, moonlit ass. She rides him to a stunning climax, nearly screaming in unbridled pleasure. Caressing myself in bed, I reach a climax of my own, coming intensely into a wad of tissues and tossing it in the trash before falling straight to sleep.
***
After that night, I backed off from requesting more erotic stories. For one thing, I knew that Samantha didn’t have more stories to tell. For another, I didn’t want her to worry that I was obsessing about her fantasies and her past sex life. But the idea hadn’t left my mind – for the first time, I had imagined my wife with another man, and something about it transfixed me.
A few weeks after our night of storytelling, I came home from work to find Samantha leaning over the counter in the kitchen, reading a magazine. She was wearing tight yoga pants and a tank top, and her back was toward me as I approached. I came up behind her, wrapped my arms around her waist, and began to bump my crotch playfully into her protruding behind.
“Hey, babe,” she said without looking. “How was your day?”
“Good,” I replied. I felt the perfect curvature of her ass against my crotch. I moved my hips front to back in a teasing, humping motion.
“You’re in a fun mood,” she said. “Are you trying to distract me from my reading?”
“Depends. Is it working?”
“A little,” she answered. “But you’re gonna have to be a bit bigger down there to entice me.”
I knew that my wife had meant to imply an erection, but her choice of the word “bigger” had triggered something within me. “Oh,” I said, keeping my tone playful and non-defensive. “You wish your husband was bigger, huh?”
“Ugh, you knew what I meant.” But simply planting the idea in her mind had gotten me excited. My penis did start to grow bigger, and harder against her ass. I continued to grind on her, and soon my erection became too uncomfortable for my jeans. I turned my wife around and started kissing her as my hands went down to my waistline and started working on my belt. I pulled my erection free from my open pants, and she eagerly reached for it and gripped it in her hands as we continued to kiss. I pushed my pants and underwear down around my ankles, and then worked my hands around Samantha’s lower back and down inside her yoga pants, feeling the soft skin and firm muscles of her lovely ass. Before long, with my tongue still darting in and out of her mouth, I pulled down her yoga pants and thong.
“James,” she said, sounding astonished yet pleased. “You must have missed me today.”
“I miss you constantly,” I replied, somewhat lamely; the blood to my penis must have shut off my brain. I turned her around again with some force so she would lean over the counter, I kicked off my jeans from around my ankles, and I crouched to the floor so that my face was just under her backside. Her pants around her own ankles had kept her legs held mostly together, and I spread her ass cheeks and pushed them up gently to allow a direct view of her anus and her slowly opening flower. I could tell her juices were already flowing from the force of my sexual advance, but I nonetheless ran my tongue across the opening of her pussy to ensure she was pleasured and damp. She moaned and cooed softly as I did so, at first jumping a bit from the startle response that the sensation produced. I could taste the familiar, sweet flavor of her womanhood as I ran my tongue along her slit a few times, pausing each time to flick the end of my tongue against her tiny, sensitive clit.
I no longer could resist. Standing up, I took my rock-hard cock and started to massage the head and the shaft along the opening of her pussy, copying the previous motion of my tongue. In doing so, I allowed Samantha’s natural wetness to lubricate my cock, which slid smoother along her folds as it grew moist. After a few tantalizing strokes, I pushed my head slowly into her opening. With her legs still closed as they were, her pussy felt even tighter than normal, and I had to work my cock in and out for several repetitions before the shaft went entirely in.
“Mmm,” Samantha moaned as my full length pushed inside her. All the sensations, the warmth, the tightness, the slickness of her pussy, it all felt irresistible on the bare skin of my cock. For some reason, I began to imagine my cock was bigger than normal, thick to the point that it stretched and strained the walls of her pussy. I imagined Samantha experiencing the same thing, feeling stretched and overwhelmed by a cock much bigger than she was used to. Before long, the fantasy evolved into her being fucked by someone else’s cock, not only thicker, but longer, and going deeper than my own cock could reach. Then I thought of Samantha taking my own dick, and I thought of her wishing I was fucking her harder and deeper like a larger man could. It compelled me to increase my speed and pressure as I fucked her harder, desperately trying to compete with a mystery man’s performance. In what must have been less than five minutes of penetration, I achieved an orgasm I was unable to avert. I groaned from the exertion, and I could tell that Samantha had reached an orgasm of her own, as she was breathing hard, and I could feel the muscles of her vagina squeeze and contract against my throbbing cock. When my orgasm had finished, I kept the length of my shaft still buried in my wife’s vagina as we struggled to catch our breath. I leaned forward and hugged her from behind, gently cupping her breasts through her tank top and kissing her at the base of the neck. I slowly withdrew my sword from its proverbial sheath, and then stepped away to allow Samantha to remove the yoga pants that were still around her ankles.
“Wow,” she remarked. “That was intense.”
“I know,” I said.
“What came over you? Not that I’m complaining.” It had been a while since we had had sex so spontaneously, and in the kitchen no less.
“I don’t know,” I replied, although a part of me knew. “Let’s catch our breath and wash off. I think I have something to tell you.”
“Okay,” she replied, and I felt her eyes follow me as I left the room.
***
Twenty minutes later, we had finished showering and were in our bedroom, lying on our bed with our towels still wrapped around our bodies. Samantha traced her fingers through the hair on my chest, avoiding eye contact. “So, what did you have to tell me?”
“It’s not a big deal,” I said. “Just something kind of sexy that’s been on my mind a bit lately.”
“Tell me.” She looked up and eyed me carefully.
“I’ve been thinking about that night a few weeks ago when you told some stories about your past. Something about that night stuck with me.”
“What was it?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “I’ve been trying to figure it out myself. Until that night, I had never even thought about you with another man. But somehow, just the notion is kind of – I guess – intriguing to me.”
Samantha furrowed her brow. “What about it is intriguing?”
“That’s what I’m struggling to understand. Maybe it’s just a new way of fantasizing about you. If we hadn’t met in high school and fallen in love, I’m sure your college days would have gone a lot different. I’m sure every guy in school would’ve wanted to date you.”
“Okay,” she said. “Things would have gone differently. So?”
“I’m just thinking aloud,” I said. “I guess it’s funny to think about all of the different situations you would’ve been in. The different experiences you would’ve had. The different guys you would’ve dated.”
“You mean the different guys I would’ve slept with?”
“Yeah, well, that too.”
“James,” Samantha said seriously. “I don’t regret falling in love with you while we were young. I don’t have any wild dreams of being with a bunch of other guys. I’m completely happy being only with you.”
“I know,” I said. “It’s silly. And I don’t think I have any true jealousies. Like, I’m not worried some hot stud with a bigger dick is going to come steal you away from me or anything.”
Samantha laughed. “Still curious about the size thing, huh?”
“I guess that’s part of it,” I confessed. “But apart from being jealous, the idea of you being with another man makes me feel turned on for some reason.”
Samantha seemed shocked. “Really? Wait, is that why you came so hard earlier? Were you thinking about – something like that?”
“Sort of,” I said. I explained to her about her use of the word “bigger,” my fantasy that my cock was extra thick, and even thinking about Samantha with other men. “It’s confusing,” I said. “I don’t understand why it turns me on, it just does.”
“Alright,” Samantha said. “Well, what does this mean?”
“I’m not sure,” I answered. “Maybe it’s something we can keep talking about to figure out? Maybe it’s something to explore?”
Samantha considered this. “Like – you want me to be with someone else?”
“No, I don’t think so,” I said quickly. “Definitely not now, at least. I don’t know.” We paused for a moment, both unsure of what to say. “Hey, Sam,” I began timidly. “Mind if I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“After that night you told me those stories from your past – did you think about those things at all after?”
“Not really.” After a short pause, she said, “Well, maybe there was one thing.”
I held my breath, awaiting her response. For context – my job requires me to leave town approximately one weekend per month. Samantha and I have an agreement that we’re allowed to watch pornography during our time apart. Samantha explained that when she last accessed porn, she thought about what she was seeing a little differently. She went on.
“I usually watch lesbian porn or porn focused on the woman,” she said. “I tend to notice her eyes, her body, her facial expressions. This last weekend I watched heterosexual porn, and I guess more than usual, I watched the man’s dick.”
“Really?” I was curious but unsure what to ask.
“Yeah,” she went on, “I was drawn to the man’s size and thought about what his dick might feel like. Like if it was inside of me.” She suddenly stopped and turned to me, a sheepish look on her face. I could tell she was concerned for my reaction, like perhaps her words had hurt me.
“That’s kind of hot, actually,” I said. “I’m surprised you don’t usually think of porn that way.”
“I don’t,” she said. She ventured to go on. “In fact, it did make me think back to that basketball player I met in college. And for the first time, I guess I was a little bit curious. Not like I’d want to act on it, but just in a passive, fantasy sort of way. Like, just wondering about it.”
“I get that. That’s pretty much how I feel when I watch porn, to be honest. I’ve only ever been with you, so porn lets me explore fantasies of people I’d never be with. But I wouldn’t even want that in real life. In real life I have you, and I don’t need anyone else.”
“Then we feel the same way,” Samantha concluded.
“Kind of,” I said. “We both fantasize about other people, but neither of us has an urge to actually be with anyone else.” Lying back on the bed, I looked up at the ceiling, unsure if I could say my next thoughts directly to Samantha’s face. “In a way it’s different, though. If you thought of me with another woman, I assume the idea would be devastating and turn you off. But to me, the idea of you wanting another man, fantasizing about another man, and even being with another man would turn me on.”
“I guess we are different that way. Does that bother you?”
“Not at all. Does it bother you?”
“I don’t think so. But like I said, I’m not really sure what to do about it. Like, we discovered you have this turn-on, but I don’t know what we should do.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t do anything,” I said. “Maybe it’s just a crazy idea, a phase that will pass. Soon enough, I’m sure the idea will start to freak me out.”
“Maybe,” Samantha said. “I guess we’ll find out.”
***
A few more months passed. In some ways I was right, a majority of the time I didn’t have any thoughts at all of Samantha being with another man. However, when I’d return from my work trips, I’d be curious about the porn Samantha had been watching and how she’d experienced it. I’d ask her what she watched, what the actors looked like, and what she paid attention to. To my surprise, her interest continued to gravitate more toward the male talent than ever. She even confessed once that she had searched for the term “huge cock,” just out of curiosity, she insisted. She said that those scenes were too intense and hardcore to her liking, but she did admit to being shocked and impressed at the male actors’ erections. She empathized with the women, however: “That shit has to hurt,” I recall her saying. “Like giving birth in reverse.”
Apart from these short conversations about porn, our relationship was as normal and thriving as ever. We continued to have sex almost every day, and I hardly ever thought of her with other men. Meanwhile, we were having conversations about our careers and the idea of having children. I had recently gotten a promotion at work, and I used my increase in salary to save for a nice vacation south of the border in Cancun, Mexico. We booked our plane tickets and purchased a room at an all-inclusive, adults-only resort on the Mayan Riviera in the spring. As our tropical getaway approached, Samantha and I grew more and more excited to enjoy our trip together. I even took her shopping for new swimsuits, and I bought her some scandalous-looking items that I was sure would turn some heads at the beach. Things were going exactly as planned, until one night, less than two weeks before our expected travel date, I got an email from work.
“You’re kidding me,” I groaned, reading my email from my phone one evening while we hung out on the couch. “Our biggest client will be visiting from out of the country and is insisting on meeting with me. Right in the middle of our trip!”
“What?!” Samantha exclaimed. “Tell them no!”
“I want to,” I said, “but I’m not sure I can. They’re honestly our biggest account, and my work with them was a major reason for getting my promotion. They want me to personally tour them around our facilities, so I can’t just video in.”
We rushed to the computer to try to revise our travel itinerary. We learned that our plane tickets were non-refundable but were transferable – we could change them to another date, or even to another name. But the resort, which we had gotten a pretty good price on, was already holding a large deposit over our heads that we couldn’t get back.
I sighed. “You should go without me. You can take a friend.”
“What? No!” Samantha said. “No way. I only want to go with you.”
“Well, you’re not going with me,” I lamented. “At least not this spring.”
Samantha hugged her knees to her chest and pouted. It was disappointing to say the least. I imagined all the fun we could have had together, drinking cocktails on the beach, snorkeling in romantic coves, having sex in new and exotic places. That’s when an idea hit me.
“Samantha, I have a suggestion. I want you to go on this trip if you’re able to find a friend to go with you.” Samantha was about to protest, but I cut her off. “Now hear me out. I’d like you to go on the trip, and I’d like you to go as if you were single.”
“I beg your pardon?” she asked. She looked dumbfounded and distressed.
“Think about it,” I said. “Those crazy fantasies I have, thinking of you having fun with other men, dating around, enjoying their attention -.”
She caught on. “You want me to actually live out your fantasies? And flirt with other men?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “Flirt with them, and maybe even more. If I give you permission, it isn’t cheating. We’d come up with some parameters, some boundaries we’d agree on. And in return, I’d like you to tell me everything that happens on your trip. In detail.”
“I don’t know,” Samantha said. “The fantasies were one thing, but I can’t see myself doing this in real life. What if it backfires? What if one of us ends up really hurt?”
“I won’t be hurt,” I assured her. “As long as you follow the rules.” She gave me a skeptical look but said nothing. “I think it could be fun,” I went on. “I know it will be fun for me – I’ll hear all about it. And about how sexy my wife is to all kinds of strange men. Your pleasure will be my pleasure,” I insisted. I tried to sound playful, as I got up and moved toward Samantha, wrapping her shoulders in an embrace. She leaned in toward me.
“Give me some time to process this,” she said. “I’ll think about it.”
“That’s all I ask.” I kissed her on the cheek. And despite the sting of not joining her on our trip, deep inside I was more excited than ever.
***
The next morning was a Saturday, and I’d slept in more than usual. It was nearly 10am when I rolled out of bed, and when I got to the kitchen, Samantha was making pancakes.
“Good morning,” she greeted me, eyes still down in the pan. “I talked to Jenny. She said she can go.”
My mind erupted in shock and excitement. Not only had Samantha agreed, but it had only taken one night to convince her, and she had already asked a friend! Could she be as excited about this idea as me?
“Great,” I stammered. “What did you tell her?”
Again, not looking up, she said, “Oh, I told her about your meeting, how important your work function was, but also about how amazing the resort photos looked online. I sent her the link, and she’s totally stoked.”
“I see,” I said. In some ways, Jenny was an ideal companion for this trip. Her family was from Puerto Rico, and not only did she speak Spanish, but she was a total flirt, which would help Samantha get in the groove.
“By the way,” Samantha added, quickly glancing up at me and then away. “I hope you don’t mind, but I told her she’d only have to pay for half of the room, and we’d cover the plane ticket. Since the trip’s short notice. Is that okay?”
“Yeah, perfect,” I said. I hadn’t even thought about whether we’d ask her to pay. Our finances had looked good lately, and I wasn’t even worried. “Did you tell her about – about the stuff from last night?” I couldn’t quite say it aloud.
“About that,” Samantha began. She looked at me fully now and her eyes looked serious, almost concerned. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”
I took a breath. My balls were screaming, YES, but in my mind, I had a whisper of doubt about how things might unfold. I decided to side with the screaming. With measured restraint, I answered, “I still feel good about that, yes. As long as you do.”
“I admit it sounds fun. Scary, risky even, but fun. And we’d have to figure out our rules before I agree.”
So that morning, as we ate our pancakes, we devised the following rules:
Only do something if it feels entirely safe.Only do things you want to do. Don’t do anything just to please James.Always let Jenny know where you are and who you’re with. Always.Do not form attachments. Do not have an encounter with someone on multiple days.If you decide to have intercourse with another man, he must wear a condom.You will send a daily email update to James. Apart from a general update on the trip, it will include a detailed account of any flirtatious or sexual encounters that may occur. Leave no details out. There should be no secrets.Write what you truly feel: the sensations, good and bad; the emotions, positive or otherwise. Write the truth, not just want you think James wants to hear!And that was it. We read the list through a few times and agreed that it was a sound plan. Although she would email me daily, we agreed that she’d get no response from me, as I didn’t want my input to influence her behavior. The exceptions, of course, would be in case of an emergency or if I got cold feet about our plan. In addition, I assured Samantha that if nothing ended up happening or if she realized she didn’t feel comfortable, she could abandon the idea and simply enjoy a fun, relaxing vacation with her friend.
When their departure date finally arrived, I drove Samantha and Jenny to the airport and pulled over in the drop-off zone. We exited the vehicle, and I pulled their luggage out of my trunk. With tears in her eyes, Samantha kissed me goodbye and handed me her wedding band to hold on to – she wasn’t going to wear it on the trip, and it was safer leaving it with me. The symbolism wasn’t lost on us, as we held each other tightly for a final embrace.
“I love you,” she whispered in my ear.
“I know.” The Star Wars reference was our little joke, and I think the familiarity gave her comfort as she gave me a final squeeze.
“I’m not sure if I can do this,” she said.
“It’s okay.” Holding her by the shoulders, I looked in her eyes. In my best Yoda impression, I began, “Do or do not,” then shifted to my own voice to say, “I will love you just the same.”
A moment later, as I watched her and Jenny roll their luggage into the airport and out of sight, I found myself filled with hope but devoid of expectation.