The Phone Call

This story is based on fact and it involves wife-sharing. So if any 'Anonymous' out there wants to complain that you 'had' to read something with a topic which you find unacceptable, I have warned you in advance what it contains. Thus by simply not bothering to read it, you may save yourself the need to sacrifice your sensitivities and save us from the inevitable irritating whinges of your inescapable hypocrisy had you done so.

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By the time of the phone call I'd come to understand my gorgeous young wife very well indeed - for it was some five years since we'd first got together and in the time since, there had been more than one instance when I'd found that the combination of a few drinks and a bit of flattery could nearly always manage to soften her defences against any flirting from our male friends or others.

Although I had never had cause to fear for her loyalty and was confident that she'd never cheat on me, some of our pillow talk had revealed my excitement on the odd occasion when she would flirt back at the approaches of certain male friends and sometimes, the odd interested stranger.

Despite our many chats on the matter however, she still retained the mild naivety of someone far younger than her 27 years and because she genuinely had no real appreciation of the effect she could have on men, she'd never taken their approaches too seriously - just treated them all as mildly exciting but harmless fun.

Not so me - to whom she is the sexiest person I know. And nor am I alone, for I'm more than aware that a number of our male friends (and a couple of women)would give a great deal for the chance to get her stripped naked and into bed.

Oh true, our pillow talk had been coming on quite well of late - and after numerous false starts when my courage had failed at the last moment, I'd eventually managed to pluck up sufficient nerve to begin opening up about my hitherto deeply hidden fantasy of witnessing her submission to another guy's seduction.

To those who may either disapprove or be unable to identify with such a thrill, I can only say that this particular fantasy is one of the most erotic, overwhelming and bitter-sweet excitements I've ever experienced.

In the first instance, one is taking a taboo subject full on by giving tacit approval for another man to have access to the most intimate element of one's marital relationship (next to the basic foundation of deep personal love for one's partner) and with that consent, come the most enormous reservations.

The worst perhaps, is the inevitable fear that she may find things so thrilling that she imagines herself cooling off the relationship within her marriage - favouring instead what may initially seem to be the more exciting alternative... particularly if sex within the marriage seems to have lost some of its magic.

Yet even the more jealous and inhibited among us may find ourselves perversely indulging this risk with an almost masochistic pleasure. On the one hand one is definitely frightened by the risk (and those of us who have had inhibited upbringings may declare it outlandish) but when push comes to shove, those of us who harbour this fantasy find it difficult to resist the temptation and however deep our reservations or inhibitions, temptation will often be the winner.

This was particularly so for me when my mind gradually embraced a vision of my wife writhing in sexual ecstasy as she's impaled by another man's cock. She pants out her pleasure at the blissful feeling of their coupling and she gazes at her husband for the last few seconds before her eyes begin to flutter in unseeing orgasmic delight - a peak of pleasure instigated by her complete submission to the novelty of a new penis which is excitedly thrusting deep within her sex.

As I write, I feel my cock harden yet again at thought of the look on my wife's face and the uncontrollable moaning sounds she makes when she's pushed to the brink. But I wanted to witness her seduction as a third party onlooker - to watch her submission and the look on her face. The image of her abandonment invaded my thoughts increasingly often when we were in the throes of love-making - to such an extent that I sometimes felt it would overwhelm me.

I really wanted it to happen but was nervously uncertain how to go about achieving it.

If truth were known, I felt I might prefer the other guy to have no inkling of my implicit consent to her seduction and he would thus take every precaution to ensure the secrecy of their coupling. This would particularly be the case if he were married himself - when he might believe that he would be running the double risk of not only his conquest's husband discovering his unfaithful lust, but also his own wife.

Personally, it was anathema to me that others might hear of it and therefore consider my wife was a slut and readily available to them as well. I could never look upon my wife as being a 'slut', for that description is highly pejorative in the UK and I have too much respect for her to risk others thinking of her as such.

No, the other guy's deep fear of exposure would be an absolute prerequisite and I knew someone who fitted the book completely.

As I believe is the experience of many others who share the same fantasy however, and perhaps predictably, my final admission had initially been received very badly by Mandy... "How could you POSSIBLY say you love me, yet want another guy to have sex with me?"

She just could not believe there was any difference between love and pure physical lust. To her the two were inseparable in a marriage and if she were to allow access to another man, she considered that not only would she be breaking her marital and moral vows but that our marriage must surely be over.

Then as time went on, and to my delight, she actually began to join in expanding our bed-time horizons and on occasion, she even seemed to get quite excited by the possibility herself. Thus it was that an increasing number of very naughty thoughts involving various individuals, coupled with the thrillingly erotic speculations which followed, often gave birth to spectacular late-night sex between us.

Sadly though, all bets were cancelled immediately we were outside the bedroom - and indeed, once we were outside the bedroom and in the light of day, she wouldn't accept either my excited ramblings or her hot responses of the night before as anything other than marginally erotic fantasy that had just happened to add an additional thrill during sex.

Of late though, and since I'd casually risked introducing a particular friend's name into our night-time forays into the unknown, I'd noticed a steady softening in her approach and she'd even begun to respond to various of my invented scenarios with something verging on enthusiasm.

It seemed then, that the thought of Greg - our young employee and now close friend - being involved in our night-time fantasies, did not completely turn her off.

Furthermore, I'd noticed that what had originally been just Greg's odd meaningful glance at her had become more frequent of late; and whenever the three of us met up in the pub for a drink after work, such looks were increasingly met by a warm smile from my wife - albeit her smiles were always delivered demurely upwards from a bowed head and accompanied by a charming blush - thus making her even more appealing to our lusty young friend.

Oh yes, the hormones were definitely being aroused in more than just me by our young employee's obvious growing interest in my wife and the thought excited me for reasons which I readily accepted with a degree of both guilt and concern - but could not as yet, properly define.

Then one night I took a step forwards when we were role playing with her on top. As she became more and more excited and seemed about to orgasm, I enthusiastically suggested that she should imagine herself deeply impaled on Greg's erection while she rode 'his lovely cock' to the finish.

As her orgasm started, she panted out,

"Oh God yes... you feel so lovely... oh bloody hell yes Greg... please push as hard as you can... go deeper... please fuck me harder... oh yes please, go up as far as you want... oh please... you feel so fucking lovely... go on... oh please, I want to feel you come inside me... oh please come Greg... oh-my-godfathers, that feels absolutely bloody amazing... that's it, I can feel you coming right inside me and it's oh... so... Greg... oh YESSSS...!"

With a powerful orgasm under way, she'd continued to hysterically egg 'Greg' on until she eventually collapsed on my chest - panting and exhausted; and leaving me with the largest iron-hard and yet-to-be-released erection I could ever remember.

____________________________

With this exciting scenario having introduced a specific individual and it now having been tacitly accepted by my naughty little wife, I was careful not to bring it up too often, lest it should lose its potency. I wanted to make sure she would get so hot at some stage, that she would allow Greg to go further than just the odd glance.

That is, if he ever managed to overcome his own trepidation at thought of seducing his boss's wife.

And the latter was by no means a foregone conclusion - which fact became obvious to me one evening in the pub when we'd had far too many pints together and the conversation had inevitably progressed to sex. He'd admitted that he was always extremely cautious of trying it on with certain women, lest they refuse him. It seemed that his confidence was still in the process of forming, even at the age of 22.

Much to my surprise and enhanced excitement however, I found my naughty little wife herself beginning to introduce my fantasy quite often now and we'd wander off into all manner of speculation involving Greg and his cock - to the rhythm of our thrusting away in the throes of ever-increasing passion.

In the light of day however, she'd continue to brush it off in the same way as she'd dismissed my initial admission of wanting to see her with another man. And even when I casually mentioned that it was her who was often introducing the idea nowadays, she'd still describe it as 'just a bit of naughty night-time fun' and not reality.

Yet I began to notice a slight flush rise on her face sometimes as she tried to reassure herself - and since it seemed that her body was letting her statement down by confirming what her mind was thinking, I determined to take advantage while the thought still aroused her.

Just before bed, I'd steer the conversation towards sex and whilst tempering agreement with it all as just being fantasy and pillow talk, I'd come out with the odd suggestion,

"You know darling, and despite all that, I suppose it could be quite exciting to see what would happen if Greg did actually get flirty with you one day!"

Then on another occasion I suggested,

"The way you were talking about him last night darling, sounded as if you might just like to see what'd happen if we all had a few too many to drink one evening and Greg tried it on. If we really wanted to find out of course, I could always leave you alone for quarter of an hour or so, on the pretext of going off to buy us another bottle or something and see whether he made any moves on you?'

Always though, she'd continue denying she had any real interest... but the blush still came up and the night-time fantasies still continued!

Quite un-planned however, an opportunity rose one evening when I rang home from one of our branch offices to say that I was going to be late back. It was a genuine call but as it happened, it was to lead to other things.

I listened to the phone ringing at the other end and was about to put down the receiver because I though she must be out, when I heard my wife eventually answer - a little breathlessly but with the usual modern inquisitory lift at the end,

"Hello, Netherhampton 523489?"

"Hi darling, it's me... er, you seemed to take your time answering... anything wrong?"

I was wondering about the heavy breathing. It was nearly dusk, so it was unlikely she'd have been working in the garden - maybe she'd just got home and heard the phone ringing as she put the car away.

"Oh hi darling. Yes, sorry about that... Er yes... I was... erm, outside shutting up the greenhouse when I heard the phone and had to run in. How you doing?"

The way she said it sounded a little contrived and I immediately wondered.

Why the stuttering explanation... was there something going on... was someone else there... if so, why didn't she say so... who would it be though...?

And then I remembered I'd told Greg that if he were to leave the office early for the day, could he please drop off a file at my house for me on his way home? But that must have been nearly two hours since and he'd probably have gone ages ago. BUT... could he still be there and... oh wow... if he was still there, perhaps this might be an opportunity?

"Oh right, I see... I'm OK thanks Honey, just a bit knackered after a long day going round the branches and I've still got quite a lot more to do at this one before I can leave. Then I've got a thirty minute drive and I thought I might call in for one at the White Horse on the way."

Then, as if an afterthought,

"Oh, by the way - did Greg drop a file off for me? I asked him before I left my own office a couple of hours or so ago if he'd like to leave early and wouldn't mind doing it as a favour on his way home. He actually left a while before I did."

There was a slight pause before she answered,

"Oh yes... of course he did darling... but that must have been well over an hour and a half or so ago."

Something in the way she hesitated made me think for a moment and a naughty thought made me wonder whether or not she really was on her own. Perhaps Greg hadn't in fact left and whether for some reason she felt guilty by admitting she'd been there alone with him after all this time. Oh yes, that would account for her earlier hesitation. It seemed to me then, that there was a good chance he was still there and bearing in mind the time of the evening, it would have been perfectly natural for them to have both had a couple of drinks. Then, and knowing the way my little wife poured drinks, just a couple might perhaps have been sufficient to give Greg more than enough Dutch courage to think about taking advantage of my absence. But no, she said he'd gone over an hour before.

I wondered why... and then a little frisson of lust ran through me.

Perhaps... just perhaps... he'd built up sufficient confidence to have gone further and had actually tried making a pass at her. How could I find out whether or not my fertile mind was assuming things that weren't?

And then it came to me.

A few days before, I'd thought that Greg might have found some negatives in the office dark-room. I was convinced that I'd mistakenly left them in the enlarger after I'd made some prints but I couldn't find them anywhere. It had taken a lot of diplomatic questioning before I'd eventually felt forced to tell Greg in deepest confidence what they were and then explained how that was the reason I was so worried when I couldn't find them.

He'd then gone off and made a great show of looking all over the place for them. Eventually, he'd 'come up trumps' when he came back into my office three-quarters of an hour later and holding a film-roll in his hand, had asked whether these might be the ones?

From the blush on his face, I just knew he'd almost certainly just made some prints for himself whilst he was purportedly 'searching the place'.

When I first hinted at my suspicions he quickly denied any such thing. I then asked him outright if that was the case and after further questioning, he'd finally admitted it was and said that he hoped I couldn't blame him because he'd never in a million years thought he'd ever see my wife in a bikini, let alone completely naked. He stutteringly told me that he thought she really did look fantastic with nothing on and I was incredibly lucky to go home to somebody so beautiful every night. He ended by telling me he was really envious of me.

I can remember saying something crass like,

"Oh, I see - so that's how it is now, is it? So having seen photographs of her body, I suppose you fancy my wife now do you?" and when he nodded his head enthusiastically, I'd noticed a swelling in the front of his jeans at the same time as I felt my own growing discomfort for the same reason.

After a pause, I'd told him I really could understand his excitement but he must never let anyone know what he'd seen, least of all my wife - however strong the temptation. I reminded him that he was married too and I was sure he didn't want his wife to find out what he'd done.

However, knowledge of Greg having been able to scrutinise very personal pictures of my wife showing every intimate part of her body really excited me and I 'accidentally' forgot to ask him for the prints he'd made!

Now however, seemed an appropriate moment to 'confess' to Mandy what had happened, in the hope that once she realised that he'd seen every inch of her naked body, the latent exhibitionist in her might get her quite hot and that could only be to Greg's advantage in my absence and she would be more susceptible to any approach he made. Thus, I went on with my thought,

"Erm... seeing as he's gone now and you're on your own darling, I suppose you do realise that Greg fancies you rotten and would love the opportunity to make a pass and see if he could get you naked and into bed?... In fact, I think I'm certain he would."

"Don't be bloody ridiculous Peter - what on earth makes you think that? He's younger than me and he's also incredibly shy of women. Even if you were right and I can't think why you'd ever think you were, I doubt that he'd ever have the nerve to try it on - and whether or not he's become a friend, don't forget he's still our employee and he'd probably be scared of losing his job as well."

Listening to her responding so quickly, she sounded like someone whose denial was trying to convince herself. I grasped the moment and went on,

"You've got to be joking Mandy - I'D love to see you bare like that right now, let alone someone who's never seen what you look like without anything on... oh wait... erm, darling...?

"Mmm... Yes Peter... "

She sounded really excited now and I wondered if Greg was doing something to make her voice sound so dreamy.

"Erm, I've got a confession to make and I think if I make it now, at least you'll have had time to calm down before I get home... assuming of course, that it makes you angry and nothing else!"

"Oh yes... mmmm... oh yes,... er, what was that darling?"

"Well... you know all those photos I took of you one night in the study last year - you know, those ones of you slowly getting undressed until you were completely naked and then lying on that big cushion with your thighs spread wide playing with yourself to expose your open pussy to my camera?"

"Hell yes... I most certainly do! I got so worked up that night with everything you made me do in front of your bloody camera, I think I'd have walked through the village with nothing on if you'd asked me to - bloody hell, the state I was in! Well, what about them?"

"Well, there's no point in beating about the bush... well... er... Greg found the negatives by accident in the office the other day and he's seen them all!"

Mandy gasped and there was silence for a full minute. All I could hear was her breathing getting faster and then she gave another little moan before eventually responding,

"You mean he's seen all of them - my breasts and nipples and all... even the open pussy ones?"

"Afraid so darling. Yes he has - and what's more, he made himself some copies and once he'd admitted it, I forgot to ask him to give them to me. I'm really sorry... are you pissed off and do you mind awfully... or...?"