A Loving Wife's Story Ch. 09

The next evening, home from work.

"About last night..." Jamie said. "The way you worshiped and adored me. I could get very accustomed to being treated like a God. I don't know if I have ever come as hard as that."

"You have always been God like for me. I just put it into those words for the first time. Early in the first year of our marriage honeymoon, I knew that sex with you had a quality of divinity. That grew and will never stop growing. Then all that you are apart from sex made me the luckiest woman on earth to be married to you. Combine the two, and I do dissolve into a state of worship when I take your cock in my mouth and love and adore it, worship it, hunger for your cum to nourish me."

"Then your devastating blow job last night wasn't a part of your rehearsal."

"No! That was entirely for you! What a hurtful question!"

"Well, considering our night out, my giving you selection rights to a rehearsal lover for the next step, I naturally wondered if..."

My husband's question had rocked me, hurt me. He did not fully understand the boundless depth of what I meant in saying he was like a God for me. That I truly did worship and adore him, with my mouth, my cunt, my tending to his needs and comforts every minute of every day, loving him with all the mind, body and soul I possessed.

"My love, my love, my love... Now is the time to carve in stone the truth that rules and will never leave us. You are my husband, I am your wife. We found each other. We found our destiny. We were born to love each other, and no one else. That is truth everlasting. Our wonderful toy box just suddenly appeared and opened a world of delights for both of us. But it is only that. It only defines a part of what we are. It does not define the whole of us. The whole of us is my loving only you, and you loving only me. My loving you like a God, you loving me like a Goddess, which you do and always have done. That is our truth. This option we are considering, playfully rehearsing, is something apart from the binding love we have and are. Do you understand that?"

He stared into my eyes, into my heart. He held me in God like embrace, and said, "Yes." My insides collapsed and I collapsed in his arms. Tears spilled from my eyes in the most powerful and joyful emotional release since he asked me to marry him. Even more powerful and joyful. For that moment was a soar of intimacy and loving trust higher than we had ever experienced before. Greater than his discovery of his erotic inflammation by my sex with other men, his shame, my happy support of that, and his final acceptance of that part of him. Because my sex with other men that filled him with such devastating excitement was only a temporary visitation to our lives. Our married love superceded and dominated all else, always.

We kept that moment alive and reverent through out most of our evening. Preparing our dinner. Tidying the kitchen. Sipping after dinner drinks. Light and easy conversation. Deeply and forever in love. When we went to bed Jamie was a manly version of a happy and playful puppy. I was in loving wife mode, ready to serve my husband's every need.

"About our rehearsal last night." I said. "I thought it went very well. Didn't you?"

"I suppose so. You led. I could only follow along."

"You had your part though. You gave me right of selection of our option man. That's a big step into our next step."

"That seemed the logical thing to do."

"And it was! It is. Giving me that trust."

"So how does it continue, this rehearsal? What is act two?"

"The script calls for me to meet him again. Naturally enough."

"You and I return to that club every night to see if he shows up? Or you alone, natural speaking."

"Better than that. He gave me his phone number."

"I hope you didn't give him yours!"

"I'm not an idiot. I'm just the star and author of our toy box play."

"Are you going to call him?"

"Of course. The script demands I do."

The next evening.

"So. Did you call him today?"

"I did. With my caller ID blocked, you'll be happy to hear. He was certainly surprised too. I told him I did so because he has the looks and masculine chemistry I like in a man. He said he gave me his number because I was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. I took that with a grain of salt, but it was flattering to hear all the same. Women are so vain. His name is Brad."

"A mutual admiration society."

"That's how it's supposed to be. Attraction. Allure. Chemistry. Then the slow rising flames of lust."

"Getting well acquainted first does no harm either."

"Absolutely. That is why I kept it short and told him I would call again."

The next evening.

"I called my next step lover again."

"To get acquainted."

"Yes. He is divorced. A lawyer on a tread mill with little time for play and meeting women. More than a little horny, although he didn't put it that way. I told him I was married. He gave a flowery tribute to how lucky my husband was."

"A least he is not stupid."

"I told him he had stirred great interest in me, and that I had a penchant for adventure. He said he would love to be a part of my spirit of adventure."

Three evenings later

"He wants us to meet up, as you might expect. Horny man and adventurous wife can only get so far on a cell phone. Are you ready to say yes? Be my co-conspirator, toy box partner, take this next step and say yes?"

"In for a penny, in for a pound. And the script is already written for you to meet with him, isn't it? Coffee, a drink, somewhere discreet."

"I haven't read ahead that far, but you are no doubt correct. I had to hear you say yes first. Give me your trust and permission, make my adventure OUR adventure. Other wise there would be no point to reading ahead. Oh Jamie. This is such delicious naughty fun! Are you feeling it?"

"Beginning to."

I gave him tight squeeze bear hug. I reached down to feel the outline of his cock. "Not an oak tree woody now, but it will be. That's why actors on a stage, Broadway or toy box, rehearse. Get their minds into it. Find out what does and doesn't work."

A week later. Workday morning.

"I might be home a little late this evening."

"Oh? Faculty meeting?"

"A meeting of another sort. With Brad. For drinks. At the Marriott."

"Your favorite watering hole."

"That place has a way of bringing me out, doesn't it. If it ain't broke don't fix it, as they say. Better yet, the place is so large an adventurous wife can hide her tryst there. Highly unlikely anyone we know will be around."

"That is most important!"

"I'm fully aware. No one else can ever have the slightest suspicion we possess our wonderful toy box, much less what is in it. That is for me to give to you, and for us alone to enjoy."

My husband absorbed my words, with serene calm and a just perceptible under current of erotic arousal. His undeclared but implicit "yes" to my plan. My first date with my next step lover. Rehearsing our parts for the real curtain rise. Getting our minds and our libidos into it. I kissed him tenderly. "I'll see you sometime this evening."

It took some effort to concentrate on academic duties all day, but I managed. I ate a late and heavy lunch and when my open office hours passed I locked my office door. In the spirit of rehearsing to meet a man and eventually fuck him, I intended to arrive home late. I had time to kill, and there was in fact work to catch up on. I got down to work.

My mind wandered. Our next step. My fucking another man to share it all with my husband. A wild and crazy idea that sort of snuck in and established squatter's rights. I saw great potential in the idea. Jamie was frightened, then wary of the notion, but slowly succumbed to curiosity and intrigue, his imagination given free reign. If we did it, it would give us a sharing more exciting than any before. More exciting than either of us could really imagine. Suppose when I returned to Jamie he could detect the smell of the man on me? His cologne, his sweat, his body and groin odors, the meaty smells of sex... How long and fat and fiercely hard Jamie's cock would become! Bigger and harder still when I recreated every detail of the man fucking me. Oh yes! My gift this time would be an erotic treasure chest for my husband to hoard and have his unique personal completion. Because this time the gift would be a man fucking his wife, not a memory man fucking her when she was single.

There was no question at all that I could do this. No question, no doubt, that I wanted to do this and would do it if my husband shed his last reserve and completely gave himself to the adventure. He was leaning so much my way he was almost at the point of over balance. And our rehearsal had a pull of increasing strength. But that last jerk of erotic dominance over his last resistance awaited. His unequivocal blessing: "Yes my wife, do this for us to share and thrill in." He was close and getting closer, but not all the way in. I had to be patient.

Then there were my private benefits. A privacy totally open to Jamie on recount, but still privately mine in his physical absence. When I first told him of my experiences with Ken and Kirk, I told him the high points of all I could remember. But there are so many nuances and subliminal delights in fucking a man that no woman can remember them all until odd moments later, even years later - his body construction, his strength and power of motion, the special quality of his kisses, even the timbre of his groans and grunts and that very individual raw animal bellow when he thrusts deeply and comes. And all that coincides with the woman experiencing her own nuances and thrills and rippling rolling waves of pleasure building to orgasm. Most of which can't be translated for complete sharing.

That was true of Warren at the country club dance. My introduction to a man not my husband giving heat to my sexuality and opening me to experience private thrill. I couldn't describe the flush of sweet pleasure that swept all over my torso when Warren caressed my breasts with fingers as light as air. When his mouth claimed my nipple. A thrill and pleasure greatly intensified because the man making love to me wasn't my husband. How do I describe that to my husband? I wished I could. I wished I knew how. I wanted my husband to be as closely joined to my experience as possible, for that was the only reason I wanted to fuck another man at all. To share with Jamie. But I knew there would be a wealth of private sensations and thrills and pleasures for me alone. Starting with the attraction and all the mutual seduction steps leading to him and the bed, for an hour or two or three or more of socially forbidden ravishing bliss. Not forbidden by my husband, though. My ravishing bliss with another man would be my gift to him.

In the spirit of our rehearsing my fucking another man, Jamie had seen it logical that I choose the man. Since I had the right of choice, what would make an ideal man for me? Every boy and man I fucked before I married had many good qualities. Some where more confident and skilled than others. But from all their qualities and parts I could not construct a fantasy ideal. How odd. Could it be my husband was the ideal, not to be surpassed? For marriage he most certainly was. But now my special privilege and focused interest was an ideal man to fuck me, most likely once, and I never see him again. Yet the irresistible ideal could only take fuzzy, indistinct shapes. How strange!

I found my hands had risen of their on accord to tease, tickle and pull my nipples under cloth. My self pleasuring felt lovely, but I identified that feeling with my husband. Then with memories of Warren on the country club patio. A man not my husband. It then occurred to me that I should focus on the ways my lover would be different from my husband. Different in ways that would thrill and conquer me, take me to sexual heights in a different matrix.

Some one bigger and taller than Jamie? Different hair and eye color? Broader and thicker chest? Much more body hair? A man a bit more dominant and aggressive than Jamie? Basic differences in character and personality. If they were present and the man wasn't a selfish jerk otherwise, then my new lover would be quite attractive, and I would respond to him with open arms and eager opened cunt. I certainly would. For my private fantastic pleasure. I had to have that or the whole enterprise would be a bust. My husband now understood that.

A bigger cock? Was that part of the ideal? I was never concerned by cock size before. Some seemed huge to me at the time, others less so. All felt very good buried deep in me. Jamie's cock was the ideal size as far as I was concerned. Still, one bigger than Jamie's, longer and thicker, that stretched me wider and went deeper, would that be the greatest thrill of difference? My fingers went under my dress and felt my panties soaking wet. I massaged my cunt with four fingers width to simulate the girth of the biggest cock to ever enter me. Yes. Oh yes. A cock much larger than Jamie's was a difference I could enjoy. I most certainly could. I masturbated my wet cunt and clit harder and faster and brought myself to orgasm.

I came out of my trance and saw out the window it was late twilight. I left my office, maybe the last one out of the building. Rehearsal. Practice makes perfect. I stopped by a bar where it would be unlikely to see anyone I knew. I wanted alcohol on my breath for realism. I settled on a bar stool and ordered a sweet red wine liqueur to scent my breath. It wasn't a high class bar, or low either. Working class I supposed. More men than women, and few of the men wore suits. All were friendly and polite. All sized me up, puzzled as to who I was and what I might be all about. A professional woman by dress and appearance. In two minutes two men were sitting either side of me. They introduced themselves. One was a weight lifter type you see on a car lot in TV commercials, cheerfully demanding all viewers come down today and buy a new Ford Explorer. The other wore a UPS uniform.

It hit me that this was the first time since I married that I sat on a bar stool alone, surrounded by lean, vigorous men about my age. And in my rehearsal frame of mind I silently did a check list of their attractive attributes, and some mild speculation of how they might perform in bed. They weren't movie stars, but looked good enough. Neither of them would have the vaguest idea who T.S. Eliot might be, or J.S. Bach for that matter. But that didn't matter to good sex either.

It also hit me there was no such thing as the ideal man for our next step. The man would just have to click for me, simple as that. The men on either side of me were obviously attracted to me, but they seemed to have adopted a competitive duel to see which could be the most respectful by good ole boy home spun charm. And I was charmed to a warm degree. But I had to get home to my husband, with alcohol on my breath, and sexual excitement on my mind.

"I'm baaaaack!" I shouted.

Jamie came from the kitchen and beamed at me. "Hello sweetheart. Hungry?"

"A little. Quite a bit."

"How about spanakopita and ground lamb kofta?"

"You cooked that for me? My God I do love you so much." I ran to him and hugged him and kissed him."

"You've been drinking!"

"What did you expect I'd do? Meeting my next step lover at the Marriott lounge."

Jamie was taken aback. My liqueur breath real, our next step rehearsal all pretend. He regained his bearings. "Ah. Yes. Of course. And how did the meeting go?"

"Very well, in fact. He is becoming nicer all the time. We'll talk about it while we eat."

We sat at the dining nook in our kitchen. The smell of kofta spices hung in the air. "What a perfect little dinner!" I exclaimed.

"Tell me all about it."

"Yes. Telling you is what this is all about. Well.... We talked. His personal statistics are about what we expected. Hard working professional, well off financially, no skeletons in his closet that I could find, on the surface at least. I let him know I was a professor at the university, though not which discipline I taught. My alias is Zelda, by the way. Good choice?"

"Am I Scott."

"You remain a mystery. In the background. Most of the focus was me, having the hots for him, which was mysterious in itself. Our attraction founded on less than a minute of asking for directions to the ladies room. You will recall."

"I do recall. I also recall you jiggling your fabulous at him when you walked off."

"Did I? In certain circumstances, my ass tends to have a mind of her own. Just like, when Scheherazade visits, your cock has a mind of its own."

"And this late afternoon in the Marriott lounge, what mind was your ass in?"

"Pretty much in neutral, at first. My top mind was in control. Assessing Brad to see if he would be the ideal man for our plan. And driving home tonight, you know what? I concluded there was no such thing as the ideal man. He had to meet our social and educational requirements, of course, and be clean and very discrete, but otherwise the man had to click for me. And clicking is something so internal and mysterious it cannot be easily projected."

"I see. So even with all those drinks you had, Mr. Brad wasn't up to snuff as a clicker."

"I had only one drink, and Mr. Brad had a lot of effectives clicks for me. I was only saying an aside of insight. The sort of thing rehearsing brings out." I gave Jamie a broad smile of sharp point.

"Okay then. The effective clicks, I believe you called them."

"His polished charm. His confidence. His powerful but relaxed masculinity. Quite the handsome man he is. All that clicked, clicked, clicked for me."

My smile at my husband then was inquisitive. How did my words settle in his mind? Did they have sharp cutting edges? Did they ease into the erotic matrix of his kink and tickle his curiosity? Did they work as rehearsal words? My feeling was they worked. Jamie showed no signs of disturbance. From what I saw in his face, he wanted to hear more, and that was exactly the goal our rehearsing reached for.

"We sat in a wall booth on the dark edge. Where you and I sat our last time there. Maybe even the same booth, now that I think about it. I'm sure you can see it in your mind."

"Clearly."

"Good. Excellent. I want you to clearly see me with him. We talked and got acquainted. I asked the necessary questions to satisfy me there were no red flags of warning to worry about. He is on our level, but in a social circle apart from ours. No mutual friends or acquaintances. Divorced. Needing a woman for relief, I had no doubt. He was upfront in letting me know he found me very attractive and had sexual desire for me. Not in crude language, but in eye contact, roving eye over my body, clever double entendre of wording. Things every woman recognizes and is greatly flattered by, at least, if her cunt doesn't squeeze and get slippery."

"Your cunt squeezed and got slippery."

"Yes it did. You know me well. It was then my turn to reveal my sexual desire for him. Convince him that this married woman had found in him an irresistible attraction in only a passing moment at a public dance club. That married or not he had a hook in me I couldn't shake free. Now you tell me what man wouldn't be greatly flattered on hearing an attractive sexy married woman say that to him?"

"To say the least. If his cock didn't get rock hard. Did it?"

"That was later." I said with a fat, smug smile of suspense. I got out of my chair and put my hand on Jamie's crotch to feel his cock half hard then throbbing hard under my tender squeeze. "I see you're not holding back. That is good." I returned to my chair and ate a few bites, smiling at my husband while chewing, building the suspense. "I hinted that I had done this before with a couple of men over the years. That I had this weakness I couldn't control when the exactly right man came along. And he was the exactly right man once again. But I also made it clear to him I wasn't a slut and would protect my husband and marriage at all costs. He thought that was the most sane and sensible thing a married woman could possibly say."