An Unusual Love Letter

My love,

You know that I went out with John last night. He's only in town for two nights and we had planned the event for over a month. I told you today that we had a good time... but I haven't told you everything yet. Seeing as how my time with him last night is going to impact you directly, I think there is something you need to know.

The night started out pretty much as planned. I drove to his house in time to check out his new movie projector while it was still light outside. We walked around his living room, checking out his setup and it was really impressive. His screen is a foot or two bigger than ours. Several floor lamps in his living room have LED light bulbs in them and can change colors by using a remote or an app from his cell phone. He likes buttons even more than I do and his projector, screen and sound system were awesome.

Before we started our movie, we went out to grab snacks and some dinner. John's truck was still hooked up to the trailer with his boat so we decided to take my sedan. You know how tall he is and he had to slide the chair all the way to the longest adjustment. He was still a little confined but didn't complain. John couldn't have been comfortable in the tight jeans he was wearing, but he remained polite and thanked me for driving.

Our first stop was for snacks. As we walked around the grocery store I asked him how things were going and his answers surprised me. The job in San Diego isn't what he was hoping for. He loves to hang out on the beach when he gets a chance. He stays in shape by kayaking and surfing a bit; says that the beach bunnies wear next to nothing as they are soaking up the sun and that's fun, but he doesn't get out often enough and is working a lot.

John enjoys hanging out with friends like us, but he hasn't met any, male or female that he enjoys spending much time with.

After paying for our snacks, we picked up a pizza and then drove back to his place. He turned on a movie of a live concert so that he could show me some of the finer points of his projector setup and I made sure he knew that I appreciated how cool his gear was.

Before we started our movie, I took the opportunity to ask John if he wanted to talk a little more about his troubles in southern California. He mentioned the job being a disappointment, his housing situation being cramped due to the cost of living, but the thing that surprised me the most was the lack of any exciting love life.

John hasn't met anyone there and also said he hadn't really dated over the last 6 months before his move. It really surprised me as we have always talked about the girls that he has been involved with, all of them attractive and interesting women (some ended up being crazy, but they were all interesting).

When I assured John that it must be due to the number of hours he was spending at work, he shook his head and told me that wasn't it. After his last milestone birthday, he talked about how his self-confidence is shot and he just doesn't see women responding to him anymore. I tried to build his confidence, telling him that he still looked great, seemed to be in excellent shape, how much I envied his hair, etc.; nothing was working.

You know that John has always been a good friend to me and seeing him depressed about his love life made me feel for him. It was probably this sympathy that led me to say the next thing and it changed the conversation significantly. I hope after reading this, you won't be mad.

When he didn't seem to be responding to any of my assurances... I told him your secret. I told John that my beautiful and sexy wife had always had a big crush on him.

John told me that I was nice to say so but that I didn't need to make stuff up just to make him feel better. I found myself needing to convince him that he still had it and I started to share way too much.

I told John that I usually tease you every time he comes into town, by telling you that I might bring him back to our house with me. That it made you a little uncomfortable to be near him because you were afraid that he could tell and that you'd spend too much time checking him out, especially looking at his ass in those tight designer jeans that he likes to wear. I mentioned that you told me to stop talking about his visit because it had started to mess with your head and you woke up after having an uncomfortably pleasant dream that you still wouldn't give me details about.

I told him that you've read some pretty racy books and learned that your favorite sexual fantasy is to think about sex with two men at the same time. I confessed he was the guy I would mention to get your mind going and your pulse racing along those tracks. I even shared that when the three of us had dinner together in San Francisco I made you go to dinner wearing a sexy black dress and that I didn't let you wear any panties; I wanted you to feel each little air current and temperature change as you got in the back seat of his car with the hem of your dress hiked up enough that I could almost see that you had shaved nearly everything for this occasion.

I told him that I positioned you right between us at dinner and continued to tease you with double entendre in our conversation that caused you to flush and your seat to be damp when we left the restaurant. Lastly, I told him that when you were once more in the back seat of his car to drive back to the hotel, between the vibrations and rumble of his car's engine, the foreplay, the nasty thoughts I had mercilessly planted in your mind and the idea of your fantasy might come true, you could have almost cum without me touching you at all! I could smell your heat and wondered if you left his seats messy. If you could have been quiet, I would have asked you to finger yourself during the drive back. I'm sure you would have cum so fast.

Those last two thoughts I kept to myself, but I've often wondered if you would have objected if I asked him if he wanted to come back to our room. Would you have panicked in the elevator as the three of us took the long ride up to our room on the 30^th floor? Could you have looked either of us in the eye, as the reflection in the metallic mirror showed you standing, hot as hell, between two men who looked lustfully at your magnificent breasts, nipples barely covered but hardly disguised from our sight as they presented rock-hard through the purple lace of your dress? Would you have felt your wet heat trickle past your engorged lips and gently, one drop at a time, slide down smooth thighs to slicken your legs?

You've never been unfaithful, but I don't know if you would have stopped him if I asked him to kiss you that night. I don't know how you would have reacted if I took his hand and placed it on your naked thigh, just below the hem of your too-short dress. I don't know how that night would have ended and how many of us would have been naked in our hotel room, in the bed, against the wall, standing up, bent over the loveseat. I don't know any of these things, but I have often wondered...

After telling John way more than you would have been comfortable with, I could see that he was feeling better. In fact, I couldn't help but notice that as I continued my confession of your personal crush, I had an uncomfortably open view of the front of his jeans. If the bulge that was forming was any indication, his height wasn't the only thing that John is endowed with more than the average man. I realized that I had shared too much and apologized to him.

John told me he was actually very flattered because he had always thought that you were extremely sexy and liked it when the three of us spent time together. I didn't really know how to respond to that and the silence became a little uncomfortable. He broke the impasse by reminding me that the pizza would get cold if we didn't eat soon. It was obviously a line to get us past this awkward spot in the conversation but I responded that I was starving and we grabbed some slices and started the movie.

The movie was good and watching it on his screen made the experience that much more enjoyable. You and I usually watch a movie start to finish, but John paused several times; once for a bathroom break and once to get ice cream out of the freezer. He tried to be surreptitious but I noticed both times he needed to adjust himself as he got off of his seat. He spent more time in the bathroom during one break than I expected and seemed more relaxed when we started the movie again. I took the opportunity to text you and let you know I'd be late. I asked if you wanted me to wake you up when I got home but you said you'd rather sleep. I wonder if your answer would have been different if you knew that the guy you have had a crush on for years and have fantasized about having sex with had just masturbated in the bathroom thinking about you. I don't know if he thinks of sharing you with me or of having you all to himself.

When I think about it, sometimes it is like the fantasy night in San Francisco; you are passed between both of us, alternately fondling and sucking us both, being licked by us. I think of you still in that hot dress, feeling and rubbing John's crotch through his jeans while he kisses you, before you wantonly unbuckle his belt and slide his pants down to the ground. I think of you taking his large staff in your hand and then hungrily looking to me for permission. When I wink at you, you smile and slowly drop to your knees.

You suck him like a porn queen, swallowing his entire cock, bobbing up and down while jacking him with your hand on his shaft. I know you've never had another man's dick in your mouth and you love the new feel, the new taste. You swallow his first load, salty and thick, letting his semen slide down your throat, coating your insides with another man's pleasure.

That fantasy culminates with all three of us on the bed, you between us, John filling you, stretching you, stroking your beasts while your mouth finds his and your tongues try to devour each other. I push and slide in and out of your other hole, offering you the sensation that you love, being filled in both tender spots at the same time. You do your best to hold off as long as you can so that we can touch, caress and fondle you until the three of us are soaked in your sweat and the room is perfumed with the scent of our sex.

That's how I think it might go if I ever invited him back to the house. But other times my mind goes in a different direction. I fantasize about you sneaking behind my back, wanting it so bad that you throw caution to the wind and take any chance he is in town. I think that I might see a car that looks like his out of the corner of my eye, driving in the other direction as I get home early from work.

I walk in the front door and tip-toe upstairs to surprise you. You are only half dressed and our bedroom feels humid, muggy. You appear startled when you see me and I think that I must have caught you pleasuring yourself. That always gets me hard and I kiss your lips and reach down to see if you are as interested in some afternoon playtime as I am.

I am shocked to feel how wet you are and am initially excited. But as I continue to touch you, I realize this is far more lubrication than you can produce. Your pussy feels stretched. Warm, white cum fills my hand and washes my fingers as I slide two, then three and could try for four inside you. I see that there is a little bright red blood on my fingers swirling around the thick liquid that I now recognize has to be another man's semen.

I realize that you are bleeding because something large, bigger than anything I have ever put inside you has filled you, stretched you, and loosened you so that you could take it in. Your skin is flushed, there are marks on your back from someone's hands, small bruises on your breasts, your ass, your thighs and I know that you have just been had rough.

I look into your eyes with an unspoken question and you look away, can't meet my gaze. A tear slides down your face. You step away and then start crying, gasping. I still try to comfort you, asking you what is wrong. In a torrent, you confess.

You tell me the deep and secret things that John has been doing to you for a couple of years. You tell me about getting eaten in the back of his Charger, before he takes you outside and bends you over the hood of his car in a parking garage. You tell me about getting pounded by another man in my own bed while I am out of town for work. You talk to me of liking to be debased, of taking it rough, of how you can't resist anything John demands of you because you are addicted to him.

He doesn't bother to tie you up because his strong hands are enough to pin you to the bed or up against a wall, against a ladies' room stall, or force you over the hood of his car. He doesn't use any lubrication because at the sight of him you gush and your slit begs to be filled by him however he wants to give it to you. You've swallowed his semen, taken him in your ass, squirted for him and once, let his friends watch you fuck him in a hotel room while I was out of town.

But your favorite, you tell me, the thing that has bound you to him and makes you unable to deny him even if you wanted to, is when he takes you from behind. He was gentle the first time until your body responded and told him what you wanted. Now you don't let him leave town until he has pounded you mercilessly, relentlessly, one hand around your throat, squeezing, choking, granting you short and irregular breaths and his other hand around your waist, your hips, your breasts, taking possession of any part of your body he wants. This isn't for your pleasure but for his and you love being an object, being used like this. I should be reviled by this confession. I should be devastated that you have given yourself so fully to another man. But for some reason, my member springs to attention and all I want to do is add to his deposit inside you...

Variations on these two fantasies are the things that go through my mind when I dream of you thinking about having sex with my friend. I don't know what his thoughts are. Though I told him about your fantasy and he shared that he thought you are very sexy too, we didn't discuss it much further once the movie was over. I thanked him for the fun movie and drove back home to find you cuddled up in bed.

If this was the end of the story, if nothing else occurred, I probably wouldn't feel the need to write this down and explain this to you. I would have just drifted off to sleep last night, excited by the brashness of sharing your secret with John, but thinking no more of it.

But I received a text today that made all of this important to share with you. You see, during our conversation last night, I told John about the quick trip you and I had scheduled for this weekend. I told him how I was upset that the conference I was scheduled to attend had changed and that I had tried to cancel our reservations. I told him of my further disappointment because our hotel was pre-paid and I can't even get my money back. This was just normal conversation and I thought nothing of it, until this afternoon when my phone buzzed and I read the following text:

"Thx for cheering me up last night. You are a good friend and I enjoyed our conversation. Sry that your trip won't be what you had hoped. I have an idea that might make up for it. We have an office in Roseville that I need to visit soon. If you and your wife decide to go anyway, let me know. I can adjust my schedule. I'd like to take you both to dinner..."

I have left this letter for you so that you can read it and think about it for as long as you like. I don't know how you feel about me sharing your secret. I don't know if you are excited, scared, angry... I just want you to have some time to consider what this invitation means and how your body and heart are responding. You know you are the most important thing in my life and your happiness is all I seek. I'm up for anything that makes you feel good. I'm willing to tell him whatever you want me to.

Please text me tomorrow and let me know how you'd like me to respond.

No judgment,

Your Husband.