It all started out innocently enough. My wife and I had decided to try to spice up our lackluster love life a couple of months ago, so I ventured out to the local porn shop. I was embarrassed upon entering the place, and covertly looked around as I browsed to make sure no one I knew was there or watching me in my purchases. That day, with my sweat glands working over-time, I bought a myriad of items; a small dildo, a large pump container of lube and a graphic, anal penetration video. I wanted to fuck my wife's ass in the worst way, and I figured the best way to start was with this small toy and plenty of lube. The video was for my times alone with my fantasies; it was graphic, as I said, and showed girls asses being plundered and stretched beyond what I thought was humanly possible, but it never failed to get me off. Little did I know I would end up being the one on the receiving end of this new adventure.
Talking about our fantasies the next night, I told my wife that I really wanted to fuck her ass. I promised to go slow and be extra careful not to hurt her, but the idea completely repulsed her. We ended up having what I considered a fight about it, and slept in separate rooms that night. The next morning at the breakfast table, after my kids had caught the bus, my wife looked me in the eye and told me that if it was no big deal to have something bigger than a finger in your ass, then I could show her just how easy it was by using my new little toy on myself. I was flabbergasted! I sat there looking like a clown, my mouth hanging open and a look of pure amazement on my face. I wasn't going to stick anything up my ass—I was straight for heaven's sake and there was no way I'd let her or anyone else fuck me with anything. "Well," she said succinctly, "if it's so easy, then you can prove it by showing me."
I left the house that morning in a daze. What in the world had made my petite, unassuming wife of eight years come up with such a thought? I couldn't concentrate most of the day and ended up begging off sick around 3 PM. I drove to the local park and sat there in my car. My window was down and the breeze of early summer was blowing through as I leaned my head back and thought about my situation. All of a sudden, a stranger shook me from my revere. "Hey buddy...you looking to hook-up?" OH MY GAWD, why was this happening to me? First, my wife offers to try out our new toy on my virgin asshole, and now I was being propositioned by another guy. I know I was rude, but really, I was more scared than anything. I shook my head in the negative, rolled up my window and got the hell out of Dodge. I had never in my life thought of being with anyone but a woman; a healthy, well built woman to be exact, and now because of my obsession with anal sex things were rolling around in my head that were beyond my comprehension. I resolved to leave all this objectionable stuff in the dust and go back to boring, marital sex with my wife. Nothing was going to rock my world like this anymore.
Months went by and my wife and I continued to make love in the way that we had always done, straightforward, vanilla sex, but I don't think either one of us was happy about it. Our lovemaking had slowed down to about once every two weeks or so and always on a weekend night when the kids were in bed and all the lights were out. One night, we'd been across the street playing poker with a bunch of neighborhood friends and we'd had a few too many. I would usually go sleep in the guest room when I'd been drinking. I had a habit of snoring and my wife said I loosened the rafters when I'd had too much to drink, but tonight I was horny. It had been weeks since we'd done anything, and my right hand wasn't getting it done anymore. My wife had gone into the bathroom to change and I quickly shucked my clothes and crawled into bed to wait for her.
"John, what are you doing? You know you're going to snore like crazy, go sleep in the spare room." She seemed a little annoyed with me, but I wasn't going to back down.
"Lizzy, come to bed, I want to make you feel good."
She snickered and came over to my side of the bed. "You want to make me feel good? Or is it more that you want to get off?"
She pulled back the covers and found my overly hard member glued to my tummy with pre-cum leaking out of it like a faucet. "Hmmm," she mused with a lilt of malice in her voice, "Just as I thought. I should just make you jerk off and not even touch you..." She reached down and pinched one of my nipples and it sent an electric charge straight to my cock. I wasn't sure if she was playing a part to charge the situation up or if she was really disgusted with my obviously over-wrought state?
"Lizzy, please...suck me, baby." Now my wife is no slouch in the blowjob department and I'd never had any reason to complain, in fact, sometimes I'd rather have her suck me off to completion than fucking. She'd been good at it from the beginning of our marriage, divulging her level of experience before we wed, and surprisingly she'd never complained about it as some women do. She'd even let me come in her mouth, which I'd heard from lots of people that most women abhorred.
"No, I want to watch you tonight. Get yourself off." At first, I was a little pissed. If I'd wanted to jerk off, I'd have grabbed my favorite tape and gone to the spare room to satisfy my urges, but as I lay there considering what she said, I decided, "what the hell." I grabbed my cock around the base and stroked upward, rounding the smooth, somewhat sticky head and repeating the motion a few times. As my lovely wife watched from the end of the bed, I grabbed my balls with my other hand and proceeded to pleasure myself, pulling them tight and flicking my little finger across my perineum, something I had always done when getting off for as long as I could remember.
"You need some help there, Johnny?" my wife whispered in a low, guttural tone I don't think I'd ever heard her use.
All that came out as my response was, "Unnnhhhhh."
She moved closer to me on the bed and put her index finger where my pinky had been, rubbing the skin of my perineum in a circle. I was in a euphoric state, and my cock was throbbing so hard it felt like it was going to explode any second. I continued to stroke the head, licking my palm every few seconds to add to the pre-cum that was leaking from my piss slit. The feeling in my groin was intensifying as my wife continued to stroke me, her circles getting larger and brushing the edge of my asshole every time she rubbed me. I didn't know if she realized what she was doing or if it was unintentional, but it felt good and I wasn't going to complain about anything at this point.
In my pre-ejaculation moments, I was savoring every sensation my genitals were giving off, and just as the Vesuvius of my loins was about to blow, my anti-anal wife stuck a generously lubed finger up my ass. I came so hard I almost passed out.
When I was coherent again, I looked around the room and found Lizzy setting at the end of the bed, a self-satisfied grin on her face. "Go sleep in the spare room, you're going to snore and I'll never be able to wake you up now." I'd gotten off, but something changed that night and there was no going back.
From her finger in my ass, we slowly progressed to the little dildo I purchased earlier, and one she had in her nightstand that she used on herself, which was surprisingly bigger around than my stiff 6 inch cock. At each step, my once virgin hole begged for first a little tenderness and then a good solid fucking. Lizzy started buying our toys online after that, including a harness, various sizes of jelly dildos, butt plugs and a riding crop. She had evolved into the dominant partner in our bedroom, but allowed me to keep my masculinity in every other facet of our lives. There were days that I had to sit gingerly at my desk to work, and I began to have trouble getting through the day without imagining what kind of naughty pleasures my diminutive wife may have waiting for me when the kids were safely tucked into bed and the door to our bedroom closed and our sexual playground emerged.
About six months after we started playing with my ass, I started to yearn for the feeling of something "real" in my greedy hole. The idea of a warm, pulsing piece of cockmeat inside of me was all I could think about. I secretly started surfing online to watch as gay men fucked and sucked each other to spectacular conclusions. I was in a personal quandary. I loved my wife, even more since she'd started fucking me nightly, but I longed to be with another man, to feel a real cock inside me. I found myself checking out guys' packages at work, the gym and everywhere I went, to see how big their cocks might be. I thought about secret rendezvous where I'd be thoroughly fucked to my hearts content and even went so far as to make up a fake profile, and entered some bi-curious chat rooms.
One night I came home late from work, having to catch up on some things I'd let slide from not being able to concentrate very well anymore, and found my wife on the computer in the den looking at a movie of two men fucking. I'd tried really hard to cover my tracks, deleting my history and storing my favorites in a folder buried deep in the root files, but obviously I'd not done enough to keep my secret.
"Where are the kids?" I said as I listened to the slight, blonde, bottom boy in my now favorite jack off video groan and moan with unadulterated lust as his muscular lover stretched and plowed into his flexible body with brute force.
"They're spending the weekend with my mom." She looked me straight in the eyes and my gaze automatically fell to the floor. "Is this what you want? My cock isn't good enough for you anymore? You want something bigger, longer?
Did I dare answer her truthfully? She had been telling me all along that just because I liked to get fucked that it didn't make me gay, but I was beginning to question that fact daily. "Alive, I want something alive, warm and throbbing." I never lifted my head, but waited for her reaction with a heavy dose of trepidation. She could easily decide that I was not worth being married to any longer and kick my sorry ass out on the street.
"Are you sure?"
"I don't know, Liz, it's all I can think about though."
"Well, I guess we'll have to find you one then."
"Really? It wouldn't bother you?" I was amazed that she didn't flip out.
"No, I think it might be pretty hot to watch you getting fucked by some big hunky stud. Let's see what we can do about fulfilling your fantasy."
"Thank you for understanding, Lizzy, I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner and that I hid all this," I waved my hand at the computer screen, "from you, but I didn't think you'd want me anymore if you thought I'd gone gay."
"John," she said as she approached me, "I don't think you've gone gay, honey." She reached out and put her index finger on my chin, tilting it toward her. "I think you've been gay all along, and you were just too afraid to admit it."
"Lizzy, no!" I was petrified now. My lifetime of inner turmoil with the desires of my physical body were about to be blown out of the water. For years I'd denied my attraction to the male body, the spread of an amazing chest at the gym, the bubble of a nice butt in a tight pair of jeans, and now recently, the bigger the package on a guy, the more enamored I was with him.
"John," she cooed as she looked in my eyes, "the longer you deny it, the harder it's going to be to truly enjoy what you're feeling during sex. Just let it go, okay? I'm not mad at you. Honestly, I'm a little relieved."
"Relieved?" I answered, more than a little confused.
"I've learned some things about myself recently too, honey and since I've just given you permission to experiment with your sexuality, I suppose it won't hurt you too much to admit that I've been experimenting a little on my own. You remember my friend Eileen from college?"
I was mesmerized. Here I was hiding every bit of what I was feeling deep down in my soul and my wife had already been with someone else.
"Lizzy, does this mean you want a divorce?" For some strange reason I was hurt and scared for my life at that moment.
"No, John, I don't want a divorce. But I do want the freedom to explore what I've discovered about myself, and in turn I'll give you the same freedom. I guess they call it an open relationship."
That was a year and a half ago. Lizzy and Eileen now live in the house that I called home for eight years with the kids. She considers herself bi-sexual, but I'm not kidding myself anymore. We divorced after I met Rich, my partner, at a gay singles event sponsored by our church, UUC if you must know. After dating for about six months I moved all of my stuff from the spare room, where I'd been staying for a while prior to the divorce, to Rich's house. The kids spend every weekend with us and they call me Daddy and Rich, Papa. It took a little while for them to get used to the whole arrangement, but at six and seven, they were young enough to adapt pretty well.
Rich is pretty well endowed, luckily for me, and he gladly plows my ass as often as possible. We tried switching once or twice, but I just don't get off on fucking anything anymore, and he's not too crazy about being topped, so we coexist quite peacefully. It took me a long time to realize that wanting to have sex with another man meant that I was really and truly gay, but once I did things were much more pleasant in my life. It's a lot easier to get through the day now, knowing that Rich is waiting for me every night, and that more often than not my greedy little ass is going to get the workout it craves.