Anniversary Wish List

I gave Claire the choice. "Where would you like to go or what would you like to do for your 25th wedding anniversary?" She didn't hesitate, didn't blink, didn't even have to think.

"Paris, Jamaica, or Denzel Washington," she said without even pausing and just the hint of a smile. "If you can't get Denzel, I'll take your college friend Henry Jacobs," she said with the same grin. "If you can't afford Paris or Jamaica, just go right to Big Henry," she said, still beaming. "I been faithful for twenty-five years," she added, this time with a smirk. "That's long enough. A girl can't wait forever," she said.

I was stunned by my wife's boldness, and must have looked like I was just hit by a train, because she quickly added, "Oh, put your teeth back in your mouth, you know you would give your right arm to fuck any one of ten housewives we have flitting around you in their tight and brief little outfits. Don't even try to deny it, because just the look on your face tells me it is true. Right?"

Sheepishly, I accepted it privately. Probably both arms, I thought. "Of course not," I protested weakly. "I only dream of you, baby," I said, trying my hardest to be convincing but failing.

"Horse pudding," she scoffed. "You gaze at those men's magazines like a horn dog in heat. You'd sell my soul for a handjob," she quipped with a stare that said she knew I was bluffing. "Paris, Jamaica, or Henry," she said with a poker face that I knew was serious. "Oh, and while in Paris or Jamaica, I want a hall pass that enables me to do a Frenchman or a big Jamaican with no limitations, no interference, and no conditions. Henry is the cheapest of the three," she added with a leer that could cut glass.

It must have been the look on my face, but she then said, "Twenty-five years of cooking your meals and cleaning your house should be worth a rump in the hay with a black man, one gifted in the manhood department," she said, "don't you think?"

I could not even stutter out an answer. She had never been so assertive, so sexual, so candid, so much in control. She sounded just like her friend Olivia, I thought, and I pictured my wife's best friend standing with her fists on each hip, daring me to object. I knew the two of them had been together many times lately, so I figured her new attitude had a little help from her strong-willed friend.

But she was right, my fantasy world was certainly active, lusty, and uncensored. Yes, she had talked once about how some people open up their marriages these days, how that might be interesting. I didn't take her very seriously, however, because she didn't pursue it, but I realized after her anniversary request that she had been a lot more resolved than I had thought. Yes, she always was very willing to try new things, even more than I was. She is more liberal, even more sexually adventurous than I am, and she's much more inclined to accept contemporary ideas than I will. Claire just is simply more of a hedonist than I am.

It shouldn't have surprised me, but it did hit me like a bolt of lightning, made me think I didn't really know my wife like I thought. She had, over the years, kidded about sex with men with large equipment, but I just thought she was joking around, but now I realized she wasn't kidding at all. Interracial sex did seem to interest her more than I had ever realized or admitted. That was now evident. It clearly seemed just that simple. Her requesting sex with my friend Henry was no gag. She was not fooling around, not kidding, not just being facetious. I had to understand that my wife really wanted sex with him, yearned for a big black dick and she seemed determined to get one.

"You're serious?" I said inanely, sounding like an incredibly dense and clueless husband who was the last to know.

"As a case of cancer," she said. "Get on the phone, tell Henry your wife wants a little black cock," she said. "More correctly, a big black dick in her little, lily white pussy." I had never even heard her say the word pussy before. I was stunned.

A strange thing began happening, however. I starting thinking about it constantly over the next few weeks. Her with Denzel, or Henry, or anybody else became my favorite masturbatory fantasy. More than me with her hot sister, my usual go-to fantasy, or Michelle Williams, or Charlize Theron, or anyone else, in fact. Thinking of her with someone else dominated my dreams, my erotic musings, my imagination.

I couldn't stop thinking of her fucking another guy, especially someone of color and with a very large salami in his pants. I would picture her white pussy with a big, black, erect cock sliding into it repeatedly. I had never realized I was the kind of guy who would be turned on by thoughts of his wife getting fucked, but the evidence was clear, and it was undeniable. It became a constant turn on. I thought about it in the morning, during the day, as I was laying next to her at night, even as we were having sex I pictured her fucking someone else, usually Henry.

I had wanted her 25th to be memorable, and here was the obvious answer staring me right in the face. She would never forget it, that was sure. I would never forget it, that was indisputable.

When I told Henry about her request, he just smiled, nodded, said I wouldn't be the first to ask him, told me I would be the fifth. "Four men before you, mon," he said with a wide West Indian grin and that Calypso accent of his. I asked who they were. "Won't tell names, jest numbers," he said smiling.

"But do I know them?"I asked.

"Oh, yes," he said. "You know dem."

More than anything I wanted to know which of my friends had asked Henry for the same service. I knew every time I would look at one of my friends I would wonder. He just smiled and said it was private. Of course, I wouldn't want him broadcasting my wife's request to everyone. I respected him not saying. My curiosity was killing me, however.

I arranged for Henry to come to the house, and I told him his job was to please her anyway he could. "Yes, mon. I will do that," he promised.

I told Claire that night as we began to have sex that I had told Henry to come by, had told him about her anniversary wish list, and then I told her how I reacted to her request. As I pushed into her I explained how I began to obsess over it, and decided to tell her how turned on it got me. I told her it really caught me by surprise, that it changed my entire outlook on extramarital sex. I said she had opened my eyes to new options in our marriage. It made me hot to talk about it as we fucked, and I explained how I was feeling.

"Glad to be of service," she said coquettishly as I pushed repeatedly into her. It seemed to turn her on as well to talk about it as we had sex, and our lovemaking was hotter and more passionate than usual.

"My," she said as we were resting and recovering afterwards, "that was wonderful. This could lead to good things happening here,"she said breathlessly. "I didn't see that coming at all,"she said with a delighted smile. We hugged and cuddled for nearly an hour before falling into a very deep sleep.

The next morning we talked about the night before and both agreed we liked it. "So my asking for Henry turned you on?"she said.

"And still is," I said. "I know it is amazing, but I have been so turned on since you asked that I can hardly stand it. I did not think it would affect me this way," I said, "but I cannot deny it. You have turned me into a cuckold," I said laughing. She only knew very little about cuckolds, but we laughed about that and we were both amazed at such a thing and the change in me, and in her, actually, because she said she hadn't even thought about such a thing until talking to Olivia. She admitted that they had been talking and the subject did come up of open marriages and her friend's own family arrangement.

It seems Olivia and her husband have an "understanding" and have intimate friends they see regularly. "Are you going to tell her about Henry?" I asked.

"Already have," she said with a laugh. "She wishes me luck. She says every wife needs a extra man once in a while. She has two."

I was astounded she had two lovers, and asked what her husband had. She held up one finger. "Just a wife?" I asked.

"Just one lover," she amended. "A wife and a lover. Says that's enough for him." I asked what she thought about two lovers or more. "Whatever time will allow," Claire said laughing, a frisky look on her face.

The night Henry came to the house I left an hour before he was to arrive. She wanted some time to get herself ready and I had already watched her in the first stages of her preparation. She had shaved her pubic mound, and I watched, and powdered herself head to foot. She wore a very short dress, no panties or bra, stockings that came just below the top of her thighs, and a come-fuck-me smile that simply lit up her face.

She had tried it all on the night before and she looked really, really hot. I told her I had better leave before he came because I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off of her with her looking like that.

The night before he came she let me take it all off of her and we made love right there in the living room in front of the fireplace. Knowing she had no panties on under the short, short dress drove me wild. After we first made love I put my hands around her, under her dress, lifted her up with my hands below her bottom, holding her cheeks in my hands, feeling her warm anus with the tips of my fingers. I carried her like that through the living room, down the hall and to the bedroom. In preparation for the next night I took off her dress and put her on the bed.

We made love and talked as we did about the next night with Henry. I slid down her body and put my lips over her labia, pushing my tongue between her lips and reaching in as far as I could. I thought of him doing the same and I pictured them in my head. "You plan to fuck him throughout the house?" I asked after she had come.

"Don't be silly," she said. "Only in most of the rooms," she added with a playful smile. "Not in the laundry room, certainly." Talking about it got me so hot I came in about five minutes. Claire also was aroused by the sexual talk. Again, we snuggled and slept that way for much of the night.

It is amazing how much this added to our sexual energy, our comfort together, and our marriage. It became a sexual game with us, a whim that kept us entertained and aroused, almost a hobby, a recreation that we constantly engaged in and shared, made our lives full of spirit and lust.

Each time I looked at her I saw her naked, sexual, and full of life as the days before her affair approached. We kissed often and pawed one another like breeding elk rutting in the field. We ignored chores, played at sex and laughed, enjoying nonstop erotic fervor. We were in a continuous orgy of pleasure and carnal desire. Our lives were full of sex and I hungered for her to be with him and then for her to tell me all about it.

The morning of his "visit" I was beyond myself, as excited as I had ever been. I watched her dress for him and my pulse raced as I saw her preparing herself for her lover and again I pictured it happening and savored the mental images.

As I drove away I imagined them fucking like newlyweds, pleasuring one another with a resolve and eagerness that was contagious. She had promised to tell me everything, to describe her time with Henry in sexual detail and relive it with me. She swore to involve me like I was there, and the reality hit me that I was actually a voyeur who would be thrilled to watch, that I had learned that about who I was.

I had come to understand myself better than I ever had, and I felt good about our marriage, good about our relationship. As I thought about the situation, my breathing became rapid and my pulse went higher. I again saw in my imagination his erect cock sliding into her, imagined his hands on her bottom, his lips on her lips, his naked body pressing against hers. I envisioned them fucking and my excitement rose as would theirs. I imagined him eating her and I could taste her arousal, I could feel her desire on my tongue.

When she returned home we made love soon after and she described their time together, giving details that thrilled me, telling how good he felt in her, how excited she became. I listened and kissed her in thanks.

"Happy anniversary, baby," I said. She put her arms around me and I knew at that moment the most important things in a marriage we had just felt: unconditional love, devotion to being together for life, and sharing all things, even sex.

We basked in the glow of love and I had never felt it so much I did at that moment. Amazing as it was, her being with another man had given us a perspective we had never felt before. I was speechless at the reality of the realization. My wife had asked for another man and I had accommodated her, and to my surprise that had elevated us to incredible heights.

That next day we talked about nothing else. I was exhilarated by the experience we'd had together, and it was definitely together, for her excitement became mine, and her arousal enhanced my own. It was an incredible lesson that it took us twenty-five years to learn. We could love each other enough to let go of our grip on the other and find satisfaction in our partner's pleasure.

When Claire asked for the liberty to be sexual with someone else, I didn't know the privilege it would give me to grant her that chance. I now know it has given us a better marriage and a richer life. Loving someone, I learned was giving them the chance to be who they are without stipulations, without constraints. On our twenty fifth wedding anniversary I was able to give her the right to be herself. Here's to the next twenty-five.