Advice from the Internet

"Well, they got that completely back-assward."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean it has nothing to do with other guys. I have no interest in other guys. It means the reason I want you to fantasize about fucking another another woman is because I fantasize about you fucking other women," I blurted, adding "That's what I want."

There it was. The cat was out of the bag. I just blurted it out. Not just that I could accept it, but that I wanted it. And I instantly regretted saying it. Why couldn't I have better control over what I say half the time?

"You WANT me to fuck other women?" he yelped. Then he pointed at the ceiling with his index finger, and opened his mouth to say something but no words came out. He gave up and put his hand down again.

"Yes, I want you to fuck another woman," I said. "After all we've done and talked about recently you haven't figured that out? And I want to watch, if you'll let me."

"That doesn't make any sense at all. You just told me how afraid you are of me leaving you for another woman."

"Were you listening? Leaving and fucking aren't the same thing."

"Granted. But it still doesn't make any sense, if you're afraid of me leaving you for another woman, why you would want me to fuck one."

"It's just a fantasy, Jake!" I objected, trying desperately to backpedal a little bit.

"Why this one?"

"I don't know. You can't choose your fantasies! They choose you. Do you think I would choose this one on purpose?"

"No, I guess not."

"I can't help what makes my pussy wet. The pussy wants what it wants."

"I guess I can't argue with that. But I still don't understand."

I slumped back in my chair. Why did this have to be so hard? "Jake, I've read that people's kinks derive from their fears. Or sometimes from trauma," I said, trying to explain what I didn't understand myself. "But definitely from their fears. Others say that's not necessarily true. In my case, it might be. I think it is."

"So how does that apply to you?" Jake asked.

"Like, maybe my fantasy of watching you screw a hot babe, who is objectively prettier, sexier, and better than me in every way, is my subconscious trying to confront my biggest fear."

"Really? But if it's 'just a fantasy', then you don't really want it to come true, right?" he asked, making air quotes around "just a fantasy".

"I don't know." I whispered, scared of his response. So far he didn't seem very receptive to it.

"You don't know?" he asked. "How can you not know?"

"Alright!" I yelled. "I want it to happen." I slumped further in my chair. "At least, I think I want it to happen." I felt tears welling up. I felt overwhelmed, frightened, and defeated.

"You've been thinking about this a lot." Jake said, softly.

"How could I not?" I said, sniffling.

Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was repressing it, apparently. I was afraid to admit it. Married women are not supposed to have these feelings."

"It is unusual," he said, rubbing his chin as if deep in thought.

"Lately I've learned it isn't that unusual. Lots of women have this fantasy."

"Is that so? Where did you learn this?

"On the internet."

"On the internet! That's a reliable source of information!'

"Don't be a jerk! This isn't easy for me!" I snapped.

This adversarial posturing between us wasn't doing us any good. I needed to change the dynamic. So I got up and sat next to him on the sofa. I leaned into him and hugged him tight with my head on his shoulder. I spoke softly. "I love you. I don't want to mess up what we have together. But lately it's been getting harder and harder to deny the desire. I'm going crazy. So I tried this role-playing thing to take the edge off."

He hugged me back quietly for a while before speaking. "Did it help any?"

"I think so. Maybe a little. Not enough. But, if nothing else, at least it spiced up our sex life a little." I let go of him and backed up, looking into his eyes.

"More than a little, I think," he agreed.

"Honey, in the last few months, we've had a lot more sex than before, haven't we?"

"Yes."

"Before that, it's been a slow but steady decline since we first got together, hasn't it?"

"I don't think so," he replied, defensively.

"Be honest!" I said, poking him.

"Okay, I suppose it has dropped off," he said, looking away.

"At first we were banging like rabbits, several times a day. But in only a few years it dropped off to what, once or twice a week? "

"That's normal," he replied.

"Normal these days is slowly growing bored with each other and getting divorced."

"Not us," he replied, stubbornly.

"What makes you so sure? What makes us different? How are we going to have a different result if we don't do things differently?"

"What are you getting at?"

"We need to keep things fresh, is what I'm getting at."

"Fresh?" he repeated.

"We can't stagnate. We need to look at each other with fresh eyes. We need to be on an adventure together. We need to be each other's adventure. We can't do that if we don't shake things up once in a while."

"Okay, I'll grant you that. So if I have sex with someone else that will be an adventure?" he asked, slowly shaking his head.

"Wouldn't it, though?" I replied.

"Well, yes, I guess it would. But there are lots of other possible adventures, aren't there?"

"But that's it!" I exclaimed, sitting up and play-punching him in the arm. "I don't fantasize about those other possible adventures. We're talking about a fantasy that I didn't choose, that took hold of my brain and my pussy and won't let go. I didn't ask for this fantasy to take over my life! I'm afraid of it, but I also want it. I need it. It's an obsession. It's like a wild animal that needs to be fed."

"Oh sweetie, I had no idea," he said, softly, wrapping his arms around me.

"I know you didn't. And I'm afraid I'm going to regret telling you."

"I'm glad you told me. I feel better knowing what you're thinking, instead of just guessing what you're up to. Would it help you to talk to someone about it?"

"What do you mean? Like a shrink?" I replied, incredulous.

"Well, like a therapist or a counselor or something."

"Please don't judge me," I asked, scooting back and glaring at him.

"Never," he replied.

"You just did."

"I didn't mean to."

I turned and faced away from him, my arms folded. "I'm not sick. This isn't a mental illness. It's a completely normal and common erotic fantasy, is all. I'm insulted that you think otherwise."

"I'm sorry," he said, putting his hands on my shoulders. "It's a normal and common fantasy, you say?"

"Yes, it is," I replied. "There's a name for it and everything, you know."

"No, I don't know."

I spun around to face him again and looked at him like he was an idiot, but then I realized that, just a short time ago, I didn't have any idea either. Until u/Quean_Bea answered my Reddit post and mentioned cuckqueans I didn't have a clue. But I didn't have any energy left to explain to him everything I had learned over the last several weeks.

"This is exhausting," I said. "Just think about it, okay? Please think about what I told you, and we'll pick this up another day?"

"How about tomorrow?"

"I mean really think about it. With an open mind and an open heart."

"Yes, I will do that."

"Honey, you must feel like I sprung this on you out of the blue. I think you might need time to process how you feel about it before we talk about it again. Okay?"

"Okay, that sounds like a good plan," he agreed.

"I'm tired. This took a lot out of me. I'm going to turn in," I sighed. I kissed Jake on the forehead and trudged up the stairs to bed.

I didn't think this conversation had gone very well. I hadn't planned to blurt out my fantasy to him, and I hadn't prepared myself for it. But in some ways I felt better having unburdened myself of it. Maybe, if I was lucky, Jake would come around. I didn't know what I would do if he didn't. Would we be able to handle this together, or was it the beginning of the end for us? I was emotionally drained but had trouble falling asleep. I lay there alternating between hope and despair. Well, if I didn't ever manage to find a cake, maybe it would be moot.

A little while later Jake came up and joined me in the bed. I snuggled up to him and finally drifted off.

Chapter 6 - I ask hubby to take me out dancing

The next morning was Saturday. I woke to sunshine streaming through the cracks around the blinds in the bedroom windows. I had slept well, considering the drama of the previous evening, and felt refreshed. Jake was still asleep next to me, on his back. We were both naked under the sheet. I slowly peeled back the sheet to expose hubby's junk. I looked at his soft penis for a while. It seemed so innocuous, but I knew better. I moved around so I could slowly take it into my mouth. It immediately began to harden.

I hoped he would stay asleep for a while. I wondered what it might be like to make him cum in his sleep, like a wet dream. But it wasn't to be. He woke up pretty quickly and started playing with my hair. "I hope you don't mind me waking you up," I purred. "But I was hungry and wanted my breakfast."

"No, I don't mind at all," he replied, his cock now stiff as an iron rod in my mouth. I set to work vigorously challenging my gag reflex, as I had pretty much every morning for a few weeks now. I was soon rewarded with a substantial helping of cum, which I swallowed greedily.

Having completed my enjoyable morning task, I was lying next to my adorable husband, enjoying the sunlight streaming in, and playing with his chest hair.

"Honey?" I said, "The place we took west coast swing dancing lessons, I think it's still there. What's it called, the Starlight Lounge or something?"

"The Stardust Lounge," he replied.

"Yeah, that's it! Maybe they still have a live band on Fridays. It's been a long time since we've gone out at night. Would you like to go? Do you think we might remember how to dance?"

Jake looked at me as if to say, are you out of your mind? But then the words that came out were "Well, I'm certainly rusty, but it might be fun. Let's do it!"

"We can have dinner at La Voile first. Someplace nicer than usual. How's that sound?" I replied.

"Sounds great! If we can get a reservation. It might be hard to get one on short notice," he observed.

"I'll see if I can get one," I replied.

Jake had plans to go on a long bike ride with some friends, so he showered, tossed his bike in the back of his truck, and took off. I didn't expect him back until late afternoon. I planned to just putter around the house and the yard. Later that day I called La Voile, and I lucked out!. They just had a cancellation so I snagged us a reservation for 8:00. I also confirmed that the Stardust Lounge was still open for business and would have a band and dancing.

When Jake and I were dating, before we got married, the place hosted dance classes on Thursday evenings and Saturday afternoons. Jake and I went for a while, and we'd also go out on Friday and Saturday nights to practice what we learned. But we dropped it after a little while, mostly because I just couldn't get the hang of it. Dancing just didn't come naturally to me. I was awkward, off balance, and a half a beat behind half the time. I danced stiffly and mechanically, like the worst of the contestants on "Dancing with the Stars". Jake on the other hand was naturally a good dancer. He was smooth and fluid, relaxed, and had great body awareness.

During class, sometimes we would all switch partners. And also once in a while, when we were just out dancing at night, he would dance with another girl. All the girls liked to dance with him because he was a good leader. His lead was always clear, never ambiguous, and he was imaginative in putting moves together. He looked fantastic when he was dancing with a partner who was as good as he was. I would watch them, enchanted and mesmerized, but frustrated that I couldn't dance as well. The green-eyed monster always appeared and I would quickly sink into an insufferable mood. So we stopped going.

Maybe tonight I could put that monster in its cage. With my improved attitude, I had high hopes. Maybe Jake wouldn't have an opportunity to dance with another girl, but if he did, could I watch them without getting upset? What did I mean, have an opportunity? There was always an opportunity. There were always single women looking for dance partners at a place like the Stardust Lounge.

I wondered if Jake was thinking about the same things. He'd certainly given me a weird look when I suggested it this morning.

Shortly after Jake got home from bicycling, he took a 5 minute shower, got dressed for our night out in 5 minutes, and then spent two hours in the living room watching the baseball game on TV and drinking beer while I got ready. I took a long shower, shaved my legs and my bits and pits, and blow-dried my hair before putting it up in a bun. I put on one of my nicer panty and bra sets. I put on a little more makeup than I normally would. After obsessing endlessly about what to wear, I selected a simple, conservative, silvery gray A-line dress paired with some short heels. Then I obsessed for a while about what jewelry to wear, selected something simple, and put on my usual perfume.

I wondered if I could dance with a buttplug in my butt. Maybe it would make me a better dancer! No, probably not. I decided I didn't want to have it in during dinner anyway. I decided to put it in my purse, with a small bottle of lube and a couple of ziplock baggies. If the spirit moved me, I could insert it later, in the ladies room, and then I could take it out and put it in a ziplock, if it wasn't working out.

When I came downstairs, Jake stood up and turned off the TV. He complimented me on my appearance and gave me a little kiss. He was wearing a light blue dress shirt with an open collar, and black pants. He picked up a gray sport coat and put it on as we left the house. I thought he looked terrific!

Arriving at the restaurant, we were shown directly to our table. It was a quiet table in the back, with candle light, soft music, and parisian decor. We had a 3 course meal of french-inspired food that was delicious. I was in heaven enjoying a fine romantic meal with my handsome, sexy husband. Somehow, we avoided discussing my recently divulged obsession, or kink, or fetish, or whatever it was.

The Stardust Lounge was almost 30 minutes away. We arrived at about 10:00. There was a short line at the door. After having our ID's checked and paying the cover charge we found the place hopping inside. We took a quick look around the place. It hadn't changed much since we were last there, a couple of years ago. The band was playing on a small, low stage. The dance floor was not huge, taking up maybe a third of the floor area. Some couples were doing west coast swing, some were doing east coast swing, or lindy hop, and some were doing god-knows-what, all of varying skill levels. I vaguely recognized a few faces from the past, but nobody who was a friend, or even whose name I could remember. The rest of the room was taken up with tables and chairs, half full, and a long bar, which was packed.

We didn't feel like we needed a drink, as we both had imbibed at dinner, so we went straight to the dance floor. Our skills were definitely rusty, but he quickly got his back. For me, it was a struggle. I had to re-remember to follow his lead, rather than try to anticipate it. And just as before, I was a half beat behind, and my movements were robotic. I never felt like I had good awareness of where my body parts were and what they were doing.

After about an hour the band took a break, and they put on recorded music. Relieved to take a break myself, we headed to the bar. Just as we arrived, a couple got up to leave so we lucked out and snagged their seats. Jake ordered a beer for himself and a glass of wine for me.

I drank my wine quickly, and asked Jake to order me another. Then I excused myself to go to the ladies room. I needed to wait what seemed like an eternity for a stall. When I finally got one, while I was sitting on the toilet I thought about the buttplug in my purse. Sure, why not? What was the downside? I could always take it out again. So I fished it out of my purse, lubed it up and slowly worked it into my butt before pulling my panties back up.

By the time I was heading back out the band was playing again. There was a full glass of wine at my seat, and a full glass of beer at hubby's place, but no hubby! The bartender came over and said, "your husband asked me to make sure nobody else sat here while you were away." Then he gestured with his eyes and a nod of his head toward the middle of the dance floor. Turning to look, I saw hubby dancing west coast with another girl.

I put my purse down on Jake's seat to hold it, and sat with my back to the bar and watched them, clutching my wine and sipping it occasionally. I had noticed her a few times earlier in the evening, dancing with various guys.

She was apparently there by herself. Why she didn't have a boyfriend or husband with her I couldn't imagine, because her beauty was striking. She had long dark curly hair pinned back, and a round face with a wide, sensuous mouth. I thought she looked Latina, of Spanish origin but maybe with a touch of indigenous American or Asian blood. She was tall and slender, wearing a black corset cami dress with bare shoulders, a form-fitting waist, a laced bodice, and built-in support for her ample, partially exposed breasts. Her knee-length skirt accentuated her hips, and fanned out when she spun on her medium-high T-strap heels.

She was a very good dancer. She was elegant. She made it look effortless. Every movement or gesture she made was intentional, and graceful. In the fast songs she was fire. In the slow songs she was flowing water.

The band switched it up and started playing Latin songs. Salsa? Bachata maybe? I wasn't sure. Hubby and his new partner switched to what I assume were salsa steps. Jake wasn't as practiced at salsa as he was at swing, but he was doing alright. She was in her element. She was smokin' hot! I couldn't pull my eyes away.

Occasionally she would stop and show hubby a new move, or a variation on an old one, and they would practice it a few times until he got it. They seemed to be having a great time. They were both laughing and smiling, and a bit more touchy-feely than necessary for dancing. I thought maybe Jake glanced in my direction a couple of times, but I wasn't sure. He certainly didn't make any obvious attempt to check on me or make eye contact. Lost in the charms of a beautiful seductress, it seemed like he'd forgotten about me. They looked like they were on a date. They looked so sexy together, my handsome husband and his beautiful dance partner. They way they moved together. The way she leaned her head back and tossed her thick, dark, glossy hair when she laughed in his arms, but without missing a step.

I felt a twinge of jealousy, which quickly grew to much more than a twinge. More like a blazing inferno. This was supposed to be my night out with my husband, our first in a long time, and he was spending it with her, leaving me to fend for myself at the bar. I felt so small and inferior.

I chugged my wine and ordered another.

Several guys approached me and asked me to dance, but I turned them down. I wasn't in the mood. Why would I want a hamburger, when someone else stole my filet mignon? As I felt those terrible old feelings of jealousy welling up, I felt like running out the door. But I also felt my buttplug stretching my butthole, and it reminded me of my goals. Hadn't I already come so far? And didn't Jake deserve to dance with a partner who knew how to dance as well as he does? I was happy for him. And I enjoyed watching them. They were amazingly sensual to watch. She made hubby look even hotter than he already is. I tried to stuff my unwanted feelings away. I had to stop the green-eyed monster in its tracks and put it in a cage, or in a cave way underground.