A Loving Wife's Story Ch. 05

The night I put my panties in my purse was a pivotal point for my husband and I. It resulted in the most intense thrill of my fucking other men we had achieved thus far. Fantasy fucking in a new context. A context of electrifying clarity blended with newness and unfamiliarity. A clarity and a blend that left us both abashed and a little shy. We put it in its box and carefully walked around it, getting up our nerve. For a couple of weeks. I was waiting for the most conducive ambiance. Jamie took the reins and put his spurs to the flank. My man took charge of me, of us.

"I love my Scheherazade." He said.

"And your Scheherazade loves you." I said.

"You were in rare form last time."

"A woman taking her panties off in public can have a mighty effect."

"Inspired invention, certainly."

"Inspired action too."

"Daring and bold."

"Coming back home to find you here. Imagine my surprise."

"Hearing every detail of your adventure, imagine mine."

I laughed with bubbling joy and also with sexual release where the sublime and the dirty cohabit equally.

"How did it feel fucking your wife while knowing another man had fucked her a few hours earlier?"

Jamie didn't flinch. He looked calmly into my eyes. "Indescribable." He said.

"That is Scheherazade's job. To describe the indescribable."

"And she did. She was inspired. She exceeded herself."

"I think she might have. She involved you more directly than ever before. Like you were really there, seeing for real, me and the man, seeing and participating for real."

"Yes." Jamie said. And said no more. Having said for that instant all he was capable of saying.

I took a deep breath and took a new tack. "I would like to discuss something with you."

"Fire away."

"That man sent drinks to our table, hoping we would invite him to join us. And I speculated he might have thought I was available. With your permission of course."

"For a threesome, you allowed."

"Well, what else? There are couples that do that. And couples that do that probably started out doing what we do. What we did when we got home that night."

Jamie tensed. "What we did, what we do, is different. Not the same thing at all. Just us. No one but us knowing."

"Of course! You don't have to tell me that."

"Well, what is there to discuss?"

"This. How you were so closely involved with my inspired story. Because you could clearly see the man with me. Because you saw him earlier at the bar. And your clearly seeing that real man fuck me, even in fantasy, gave us both a greater thrill than ever before. Admit it."

Jamie was defenseless, caught out, making his admission with a curt nod, very uneasy by where I was leading us.

"This is what I want us to talk about. Can you imagine watching a man fuck me for real? You there in the same room?"

"Don't do this Sondra."

"Oh love. My precious love. It's only hypothetical. And we have the freedom to talk about anything. My God. I told you all about Ken and Kirk and even invented a pizza delivery boy. You loved that and I loved that. It did not harm us at all. It empowered us to see what was inside both of us and choose to use it for our very wild and private fun. I flirted with a man and took my panties off. I fantasy fucked that same man for you shortly afterward, and we both were ripped by the most intense excitement ever. And that did us no harm. My question, and whatever your answer might be, cannot harm us. It is all hypothetical. I ask this because I want a broader knowledge of you."

Jamie squirmed. He looked pinched. He wanted to be a good sport in our hypothetical examination, but he was looking for an exit.

"No." He finally said. "I can't imagine it. Not really being there, in the same room. Watching another man fuck you for real. That step is too vast, the barrier too solid for me to pass through or around. Can you?"

"Can I pass through or around that barrier?"

"Can you imagine yourself fucking a man for real, with me in the same room watching you,"

How quickly he had turned the tables! It was my turn to squirm.

"Hypothetically speaking." He said, giving the knife a gentle twist.

"Well, I donno. I have to think about that."

"Take all the time you need."

Could I imagine it? The honest truth was yes, I could. I had acclimated. I had imagined fucking another man the four times I spun out all the details for Jamie to see, as if it were real, to enflame his imagination. And my own enflamed imagination was sometimes inseparable from the reality.

"A fair question." I said. "Actually, it wouldn't be a vast step for me. I have already done it four times. Each time bringing you in to watch. Or maybe I should say Scheherazade did, respecting our hypothetical."

"And with that same respect, I ask if the idea of a threesome with another man is something that turns you on? An idea you want to play with?"

Jamie had thrown down the gauntlet. He didn't mess around. It was my time to be completely honest. But gently so. Because actually fucking another man with my husband actually there in the same room, on the same bed, was a sudden vision that shot an electric current up and down my belly and made my cunt wet. But it was clear that no such current had zapped my husband. An impenetrable barrier separated me and my sudden vision from him. A threesome with another man could not fit into our fantasies, and certainly not form an idea of actually happening. Not for Jamie. That was clear enough. It was also instantly clear to me that Jamie's part in our ravishing game had limits, had vulnerable edges. I couldn't define those limits and edges in that instant, but I knew they were there. In that instant I knew I must protect my husband, to protect us, and the game we loved to play.

"No." I said. "A tempting idea to play with, but no. No threesome with another man. That would not enhance me, or you. It would be detrimental to what we now have and so greatly enjoy."

"I have increased my knowledge of you." He said.

"And I of you."

A feeling of relief washed through me. Also a feeling of exhilaration. Also a heady sense of female power. Willowy Sondra. Womanly Sondra with long legs, wide hips, full round ass and proud but modest boobs, a cunt well practiced in gripping hard cock and milking sperm from it. Sondra Andrews Phd. A university professor who had once acted the role of prostitute. Sondra the loving wife, who thrilled her husband and herself with deliberate, focused recreations of her fucking other men.

"So there. Now we have created definition and boundaries for our need to play our wild and wonderful game. And I think there might really be a need there. A sometimes mood that calls on me to fuck other men of memory or fantasy to give you that erotic transport that cannot happen any other way. Can happen only in that way. That's the way it will be. Our marvelous game will continue to be me fucking other men alone, then Scheherazade appearing to tell you all, and we both will be transported."

"That works best. That is proven."

"Long live Scheherazade!"

*****

That memorable and momentous discussion cleared the air and coalesced our adopted kink into a substance of firm declaration and direction. For both of us. Even though we didn't discuss it, pick at each other for confirmation. We let it lie on a pillow of mutual consent that only a married couple bound together in everlasting love can possess. Albeit an exceeding unusual mutual consent. But no less real and valuable for that. And it was ours.

Marriage, and individual lives, are not all about sex. Everyone knows that. The days and weeks passed in routine and hum-drum, and in good things and unexpected delights. Work, relaxation, and making love. I didn't dwell on what our pivotal discussion had produced. But I thought of it often, at leisure. That firm substance of declaration and direction. My license to fuck other men to provide my husband his reward, his helpless surrender to those ravishing thrills of sexual excitation in my telling, my recreation. Which worked best, which was proven, he had said. Even so, there remained a smudge I needed to wipe away. That impenetrable barrier through which he could not pass to watch another man fuck me for real.

I knew I could do it. Fuck another man for real with Jamie present to see. That would only be an extension of what we had already established in fantasy creation. Then my intelligence threw me a zinger. What about the reverse? Could I be in the same room to watch Jamie fuck another woman? My insides turned to ice. No. I couldn't even bear the thought. No. I could not do that. My jealousy would decimate me, or make me a monster. Then I saw what the barrier was for Jamie.

The stories I shared for him had never had any claws to rip jealousy from his guts. I was certain of that. If there were signs I would have seen them. There weren't any. Ever. Only that initial turmoil of confusion that he might be some form of pervert because of the spontaneous, beyond his control erection my first story gave him. But we took care of that, came to comfortable terms with the psycho-sexual quirks we all contain, no matter how bizarre. My quirk to be a joyful, liberated slut-whore with a dedicated purpose of nourishing the quirk in my husband, giving him that ravishing excitement of seeing his wife as joyful, liberated slut-whore. But his seeing took place in safety of us alone, seeing and hearing me describe something that had already taken place with a man in another place. That was the essential fuel that gave our toy box potential to build the heat and light the fire of sexual adventure that consumed us both. It would be foolish to tamper with that fuel, risk diluting it of its magical potency.

The last smudge went away, seemingly on its own. Our positions and our roles were fixed. They had been from the beginning. There was no point in asking why. I gave to him in my way, he gave back to me in his way. Neither of us held advantage or control of the other. Our game of me fucking other men separate then telling my husband every detail was right for him and right for me. Oh my God so right! That was fixed. That was what we would do.

*****

Funny, but after the structure and boundaries of our game, our outlet for naughty indulgence in what we both saw as a sometime need, were established and permanently in place, we seemed to forget that precious toy box was even on the shelf. Ordinary life went on. Our separate careers. Good days, happy days, blah days, and on rare occasions moods a bit cranky and out of sorts. Marriage as ordinary as it gets. Except for the sex. Our married sex had a growth spurt, like a gangly adolescent gradually changing into adulthood. Our sex had always been good. It got better, much better. Without any studied trial of fancy new positions or my flourishing sexy undies or brazen accouterments. It was simple husband and wife sex. Sweet and lovely. Sometimes urgent and energy borne. But in all was a deeper and more profound communion of joining, merging, touching and knowing the essence of each other. And knowing that essence included the dynamics of our established but set free sexual kinks that nestled in our toy box.

The toy box was like a very fat savings account in a bank. An asset available for a rainy day, or any pop up need. It was like a house mortgage that had been paid off, giving us title free and clear. It had a subtle effect on Jamie that I as loving wife was quick to notice and relish. He made love to me with a new and comfortable confidence. He seemed to give over to adoration and worship of my body, from hairline to toe nails, but at the same time his adoration and worship was wrapped in the directional nature of universal masculinity, possessing me, owning me. My orgasms were quick and many, oh so many. My pleasures sometimes delirious. My utter sexual satiety so ennobling and so utterly peaceful. We had it all in our bed.

Even so, having it all is still open to curiosity. One night we had it all in my sucking Jamie off. Just that and only that, all that I wanted. My adoring and worshiping his cock. And I sucked him with inspired technique and skill. In slut-whore mood, not really knowing where that mood came from. I turned him inside out. I drained him. And he was spent and exhausted and jellied with happiness. Curiosity make a little skip and alighted on my head.

"Jamie?"

"My love."

"When we make love, do you sometimes see me with the men of my stories?"

My question didn't seem to bother him. He thought a moment, and said, "Sometimes. Not very clearly. Not the men that is. I see you clearly. Performing with them. The visions flit about, never staying still for long." He paused, took a deep breath, and continued. "It is more like I see your unique sexual capacity on display, sucking their cocks, fucking them. Does that make sense? It's complicated."

"That makes perfect sense! Beautifully and concisely stated. My capacity. I had never thought of it that way. My capacity. My capacity is what came out our first time of set free exchange. And uncovered your own unique sexual capacity to be so terribly excited. By God that makes perfect sense!"

"And you? Do you sometimes drift into experiencing those other men when we make love?"

"Sometimes. But you nailed it. Those drifts are really recognition of my capacity for let go female sexuality. And a solid recognition that my letting go is for you first and foremost. To excite you and inflame you. My gift to you. That gives all meaning to my letting go. Do you know that and accept that, with no reservations?"

"I do. It took a while. But I now know and accept, with no reservations."

"Jamie, Jamie, Jamie. I love you, I love you. You are my all, my everything. We are wife and husband. Perfect match and mate. Of capacities, of everything."

"That was a stupendous blow job you gave me."

I arched a brow and smiled at him. "That was my capacity unleashed, just for you."

"No thoughts of other men?"

"No. Only you were in my head, in my mouth." I gave him that look that only a woman can do, rounding up loose thoughts like a shepherd herding his flock of sheep, bringing my husband into the fold. "Now that you mention it, it has been several months. Maybe it is time to call on my sister Scheherazade, have some girl talk, see what we can come up with new."

"I'm good with that."

"Review what we did with that man at the Marriott lounge. Select the best parts and build on them."

"I have no doubt you two will come up with something spectacular."

To be continued...