There's no mincing words here: my wife is a self-avowed slut because she loves the feeling of being fucked. Simply put, it is what it is. Early on, I wasn't sure about it, but oddly wasn't bothered by it. Something about the way she brought it up made it seem safe. And now, fifteen years into our journey together, we're well-experienced in this lifestyle.
But one night in particular stands out in my memory. A sight I'd love to enjoy again. It's odd to me because what made this feel safe in the beginning was that it flat out isn't emotional. It's just flesh pleasing flesh. But that night it was more.
I had been working way too much. Just luck of the draw; my employer was busy for a while. It has been many years since I was only comfortable with her ...... with someone else while I was there. When I was gone 12+ hours every day and wiped out when I got home, it's only natural she'd find a playmate. I heard about him, and she seemed happy with their meetups.
Finally, after months, there was a chance for a few days off in a row. And at long last, I could meet the new mystery guy. Taller, better hung than I am, polite, and intelligent. You know, when this dynamic first started, it was after walking in on her cheating with someone who didn't please her. I remember saying, hey, if you're going to do this then at least make sure he pleases your pussy better than I do. What's the point of all the cloak and dagger, risk, and stress for disappointment? As we transitioned into her hiding nothing, she kept my advice.
We all got along famously too. Between the good company and the subtle reddening of her earlobes as her desire warmed up, it was pretty clear that we couldn't ask for a better bull. As the night wore on, and her initial nervousness about our first meeting passed, there was something else. The way she looked at him. This was different from past experiences. When she seemed self-conscious about it, I made sure to catch the next chance to tell her discreetly that it's okay, go with whatever she was feeling. Imagine your wife, whom you've seen have sex with several men, suddenly nervous like it's the first time. "Are you sure?"
What followed later that night was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. As it turns out, and as you can probably guess, this wasn't just about sex. Over the months of quality time they'd spent, they had formed a bond. Exactly the thing many men in a half-open marriage would fear, but it was perfectly safe. At no point did I feel threatened or jealous. She looked at me just as adoringly as she looked at him.
And when they were together, it wasn't the same as with anyone else before or since. They were sweet, tender, sensual, and affectionate. It was the first and only time I've seen my wife make love with somebody -- considering I can't very well watch her with me. To witness this closeness, this sweetness, and to feel perfectly safe in the moment was blissful. All at once, it was the most erotic experience of my life and absolutely endearing.
This isn't something I'd advise anyone in this lifestyle to pursue. It's not something we'd purposefully pursue. But they had feelings, and everyone ended up okay in the end. He ultimately suffered the same thing I had for months -- work took him away. It was going around at the time, I guess. Months passed, hearts cooled, and they remained friends. He ended up meeting someone and settling down.
But since then, I've wished we could have a similar experience. Something closer to polyamory, I suppose, but without any bisexual dynamics nor complications. It's impossible to seek out. This was a once in a lifetime experience, in all likelihood.
But one night in particular stands out in my memory. A sight I'd love to enjoy again. It's odd to me because what made this feel safe in the beginning was that it flat out isn't emotional. It's just flesh pleasing flesh. But that night it was more.
I had been working way too much. Just luck of the draw; my employer was busy for a while. It has been many years since I was only comfortable with her ...... with someone else while I was there. When I was gone 12+ hours every day and wiped out when I got home, it's only natural she'd find a playmate. I heard about him, and she seemed happy with their meetups.
Finally, after months, there was a chance for a few days off in a row. And at long last, I could meet the new mystery guy. Taller, better hung than I am, polite, and intelligent. You know, when this dynamic first started, it was after walking in on her cheating with someone who didn't please her. I remember saying, hey, if you're going to do this then at least make sure he pleases your pussy better than I do. What's the point of all the cloak and dagger, risk, and stress for disappointment? As we transitioned into her hiding nothing, she kept my advice.
We all got along famously too. Between the good company and the subtle reddening of her earlobes as her desire warmed up, it was pretty clear that we couldn't ask for a better bull. As the night wore on, and her initial nervousness about our first meeting passed, there was something else. The way she looked at him. This was different from past experiences. When she seemed self-conscious about it, I made sure to catch the next chance to tell her discreetly that it's okay, go with whatever she was feeling. Imagine your wife, whom you've seen have sex with several men, suddenly nervous like it's the first time. "Are you sure?"
What followed later that night was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. As it turns out, and as you can probably guess, this wasn't just about sex. Over the months of quality time they'd spent, they had formed a bond. Exactly the thing many men in a half-open marriage would fear, but it was perfectly safe. At no point did I feel threatened or jealous. She looked at me just as adoringly as she looked at him.
And when they were together, it wasn't the same as with anyone else before or since. They were sweet, tender, sensual, and affectionate. It was the first and only time I've seen my wife make love with somebody -- considering I can't very well watch her with me. To witness this closeness, this sweetness, and to feel perfectly safe in the moment was blissful. All at once, it was the most erotic experience of my life and absolutely endearing.
This isn't something I'd advise anyone in this lifestyle to pursue. It's not something we'd purposefully pursue. But they had feelings, and everyone ended up okay in the end. He ultimately suffered the same thing I had for months -- work took him away. It was going around at the time, I guess. Months passed, hearts cooled, and they remained friends. He ended up meeting someone and settling down.
But since then, I've wished we could have a similar experience. Something closer to polyamory, I suppose, but without any bisexual dynamics nor complications. It's impossible to seek out. This was a once in a lifetime experience, in all likelihood.
Last edited:
