tagLoving WivesBurning Desire Pt. 03

Burning Desire Pt. 03


This is a fictional cuckold story. If you don't like wives having sex with men that are not their husbands, with no revenge, then I recommend not reading it. There will be another installment. Please leave constructive comments and any positive suggestions.


I've always been an early riser and it is very uncommon for Irene to beat me out of bed. So I wasn't surprised to wake up that next morning well before she did. I didn't know how she would feel after all the excitement from the night before. I was a little weary to how she might respond after having time to sleep and think about all that went on. I didn't know if she would be angry at me for leaving her with the Old Man, blaming me for the entire situation. I decided to get on her good side from the very start and would make breakfast. I thought about bringing it to her so she could have breakfast in bed but I wouldn't get the chance. As I was finishing I heard her walk down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"Hello, honey." I heard her say behind me; she had sounded happy enough. I would quickly get my answer when I felt her arms reach around me in a hug. I turned and looked down into her eyes. She wasn't mad but I could see a look of worry. It appeared that she apparently had the same fears as me.

"I hope you aren't mad at me. I don't know what got into me last night. Maybe I had too much to drink. It won't happen again, I swear." She just kept trying to reassure me. Did she forget about my own pressuring or just afraid it would start an argument if she said anything that might look like pointing a finger?

"Babe, if anyone is to blame it is me. I was the one pushing you, not the other way around; but I don't want to blame anyone really. I'm not mad the least bit and I hope you aren't either. I actually hoped you had enjoyed yourself and I thought you did..."

Before I could start my next sentence, she jumped in. "Honey, I did enjoy myself," pausing for a moment before finishing with, "I think..."

"You think?" I asked.

"Well, I know I did. I just hate to admit it. Not just to you but to myself. What kind of wife am I to enjoy cheating on my husband?" Her eyes began to water as she finished talking.

"Babe listen, it isn't cheating. I gave you permission and I have to be honest, I enjoyed watch..." I stopped myself before I told on myself. I had to remember that she didn't know I had been secretly watching them. I quickly recovered and finished my sentence "...thinking about you with him. If I knew it would have hurt you like this then I wouldn't have pressured you so much." At least, I hoped I wouldn't have; I thought to myself before finally just straight out apologizing.

"Wasn't you jealous?" she asked me.

I didn't have to think about my reply. I had analyzed every emotion I experienced that night trying to figure why I enjoyed those wicked desires. "Well yes, I was jealous but it only added to my excitement. It didn't make me angry or anything."

She looked at me with eyes that expressed her confusion. "How did it excite you? It would have made me very angry if I knew you was with another woman."

"It's hard to explain," I told her; completely meaning it. Most of it was still a mystery to me; I merely knew I liked to watch her with him.

We continued the conversation a bit longer, until I was confident that Irene understood I didn't view her actions as betraying our marriage. At one point I had her making a joke and laughing at the situation. I was positive that she enjoyed the entire experience of that night but something made me believe it was a one time thing; just a wild streak that escaped from her otherwise normal and mundane personality.

As expected, we fell into our familiar routine. Nothing else was said about that night or any possible future recurrence. At first, it didn't bother me. I started to believe that I had possibly got it out of my system. However, after a few months had passed, I began to reacquire the sensation of watching her with someone else. It started just as an occasional thought; primarily when I was horny. I would make love to my wife then begin imagining her fucking some stranger. It would be particularly difficult to avoid when she would give me head. I now, almost always, associate blowjobs with that night. I would just reflect on how amazing it would have been to see my beautiful wife giving head to a stranger, instead of just her silhouette like before.

Eventually I began to wonder if I should contact the Old Man. Perhaps I could take Irene out to a club and convince her it was an accident that we ran into him. Even if I did, would Irene repeat her performance? No matter how much I wanted her to stray, the real obstacle was always rather she would give in again.. I would ignore the idea a while longer before I finally gave in to my lust and decided to form some kind of plan; which I would learn was easier said than done. I needed to know Irene's thoughts on the matter and so I would test the waters. When we was making love I would just slip in a comment and judge her reaction. At least that was the plan. The following week was so hectic at work that I didn't have either the time or the endurance to initiate sex. When I got home I would go straight to bed. To make matters worse, I would have to go on a business trip for the entire weekend. It seemed like it would be a while before I could find out Irene's feelings on the matter; at least that is what I thought.

In the first years of our marriage, our budget was tight, forcing my wife and I to share a laptop computer leftover from my college years. We have now since bought our own personal computers for home. I had just recently been promoted at work and was now delegated to go on training seminars and the like. I yet, however, had the opportunity to purchase a new laptop or request one from my IT department. It left me with only one opinion, take my old personal laptop.

Upon arriving I was informed that no particular electronics was necessary for the event and so I left my computer in the hotel room. After a long and boring first day of learning useless information, I decided it would be best to just go back to my room and relax. I was very lucky that I got an entire room to myself and didn't have to share with any of my colleagues. I changed out of my suit and flopped onto the bed. Scanning through the television channels and seeing there was nothing of interest to watch, I decided to get on my laptop. After starting it up, I was confronted by both my old background picture and the realization that I had nothing to really do on the internet either. I was about to close the computer when a message indicator appeared in the corner of the screen with the familiar sound. Curiosity immediately overtook me and I double clicked on the icon, which opened up my wife's email account. In the past she used the computer more frequent than myself and must have had it on automatic login. It was a two years ago and she must have forgotten all about it. Having complete faith in my wife and doubting that any of it was worth reading, I moved my cursor to the X. All of a sudden, I froze. There before me was the name Dwayne. I asked myself, could it be Old Man Dwayne? I was almost positive that we didn't know any other people by that name. I decided to find out instead of just wondering.

I quickly clicked on the conversation window to open it. Other than the name Dwayne, I could see no other information, such as a picture, that might indicate the exact identity of the person. I would have to read the conversation. I scrolled to the very beginning and noticed the first date was shortly after that night. The time was right, I thought to myself.

I began to read what was before me.

"Dwayne: Hey, how have you been?"

I was slightly comforted that he at least initiated the conversation. This would be short lived as I continued to read the next line.

"Dwayne: By the way thanks for sending me the invite. I was getting worried you wouldn't add me. Of course, it didn't help that you didn't give me your email."

It didn't make sense to me at first. Why would she add him but refuse to give her own email. Clearly she was interested in talking to him; maybe she was unsure at first. I would quickly figure it out as I continued to read the conversation.

"Irene: I'm well, and how are you? I would have probably given you my email address but I got distracted with.. you know...and then I just forgot."

"Dwayne: It's alright. I remember now, you had your mouth full."

So that is why she didn't give him her address; she must have been distracted with giving him head. I already started to get hard after having read only that little bit of the conversation and thinking about that night. I freed my straining cock from my boxers and carried on reading.

"Irene: Yeah, I guess I did."

"Dwayne: So why did you add me?"

"Irene: What you mean?"

"Dwayne: Like I told you before, I don't like to beat around the bush. Did you add me because you want to continue this relationship with sex, or do you and your husband want to just play some fantasy that doesn't get any further than talking?"

I'd imagined that Irene was taken back by his bluntness and I will assume that I was correct from the several minutes it had took her to respond.

"Irene: My husband doesn't know I added you or that I even have your email. I guess I should be honest too but I really have no idea why I added you or what I expected to come from it."

"Dwayne: So your old man has no idea? I figured he was the one to put you up to this. After I thought about it, maybe I was too direct; after all, you have a lot to think about. I will tell you what, we can just talk and whenever you decide then you just tell me. Does that sound fine?"

"Irene: Thanks Dwayne. I don't mean to put you on, I just needed someone to talk to about all this and I'm afraid to talk to my husband because he might get the impression that I want to see other men."

"Dwayne: Well do you? Because I have the feeling he would be okay with it."

"Irene: It's not like I want to go and be with a bunch of of men. I love my husband and he makes me very happy. But after that night, I believe he wants me to see someone else and sometimes I can't help think it might be fun to have a boyfriend."

"Dwayne: Like me? :)"

"Irene: Yeah, like you. :)"

The conversation carried on over the span of a few months and had have long spouts of little to no activity with occasional flirting. Dwayne was persistent in trying to get her to engage in activities with him, like webcamming or sending nudes. However, she never gave in to his requests. There was, however, one instance when he almost succeeded in getting her on cam; though it was under pretense of just seeing her and not doing anything intimate. Nonetheless, I had been rooting for the Old Man to succeed. I was hoping that he would convince her but he failed. I don't believe it was from his lack of charm or from Irene's lack of desire for him; I think it was from Irene's commitment to our marriage. Unlike that one night, she wasn't receiving any reassurance from me.

Not being personally satisfied with the entire message exchange, I decided to intervene and help the Old Man along. I immediately picked up the phone and called Irene.

"Hey Babe," I said after she had answered. "How are you doing tonight?"

"I'm fine, just getting ready for bed.. and yourself?" She responded.

"I'm fine. I was bored but I eventually found something to do. Anyhow, I've been meaning to speak with you the entire week about something but never got the chance." I told her.

"What about?" She enthusiastically asked. I don't think at one time in our marriage had she ever not been interested in our conversations. It made me wonder why I was so determined to push Irene into the arms of this man. I know it wasn't from getting rid of her, that was the only outcome I didn't want.

"I wanted to talk about the Old Man." I spoke with both confidence and assertiveness. I wanted to get to the point and prevent Irene from doubting my intent. My bravery, I believed, came from my overwhelming arousal.

Her tone immediately changed to that of a child that had been caught doing something wrong. She eventually asked, "What old man?" Trying to play dumb. But I from her tone of voice I knew what she was up to.

"Dwayne," I told her.

"Oh, him. Umm, what about him?" Her nervousness continuing with our conversation.

"I've been thinking about how we had fun that night and it made me also think we should get up with him again. Do you know of any way we could contact him?" I bluntly told her.

"Do you think that is such umm... a good idea?" She asked.

"Why would it not be?" I shot back.

"Well umm... I believe he would want us to... I mean me and him to umm... you know." she was so jittery she couldn't even complete a sentence without pausing or slightly stuttering. I wickedly enjoyed hearing her in this nervous state.

"Yeah maybe." I remarked as if it wasn't a big deal. " We will worry about that when the time comes. Let's just try and get a hold of him. He didn't give you his number or anything, did he?"

"Umm, no. I mean yeah! Yeah, he gave me his email address." I would have loved to see her face as she was telling me all this.

"That is great," I replied. "Send him an email or something. You know, chat with him a little. Don't even be afraid to get dirty either. He is your boyfriend after all."

"He isn't my boyfriend!" she shouted back frustrated. "What has got into you?"

"He could be your boyfriend if you wanted, but I think you are too afraid. I believe that you think you couldn't handle him." I smugly explained while presenting her a challenge.

"Excuse me?" She feverishly asked. My wife had always been shy and soft spoken, but as expected in a long relationship we became very familiar with each other and there was little reserve between us. There were times when I could get her very fired up and this appeared to be one of those times. "I've handled him in the past, just in case you forgot." She said sternly.

"Then prove me wrong, handle him again." I told her, while again challenging her.

"I know what you are doing and it won't work." She informed me. I noticed her tone began to soften again.

"The only thing I'm trying to do is something I believe we both want to happen. I'm sure you have noticed that I'm being blunt but you chosen to ignore that I'm also being honest, which is something you aren't returning. As long as you want to talk to him then I want you to talk to him."

"Fine! You're right, I do want to talk to him. I was just afraid if I said it out loud or acted on it, then it meant our own relationship was over. Promise me you will always love me and I will email him." Her reply shocked me. Both from what she said and how sincere she said it.

"Of course I love you babe."

"I will send him an email but I can't promise anything." She said; starting to regain her enthusiasm.

"That's fine babe. Just enjoy yourself and remember, you have my permission." I told her.

"Permission for what exactly?" She asked me.

"Anything," I said; not really considering everything it applied. The extent of which didn't go unnoticed and I felt an awkwardness in our brief moment of silence. It was then we eventually said our goodbyes and hung up. She didn't message him that night as I was hoping, she must have went straight to bed.

That next day was a long one. I went to the lengthy seminar, stopped for dinner, then came back to my room where I repeated the same routine from the night before. It had been gnawing away at me all day wondering what new conversations, if any, had taken place. I was ecstatic when I found a new long exchange of messages. Sure enough, the Old Man worked his charm, eventually convincing her to meet him. Though it would only be as, "friends." However, I knew better and they probably did too; certainly he did.

They were to meet at seven o'clock and it was already seven-fifteen. I knew I would have to wait until my wife got home before I could get the details. To keep up appearances, I called anyway and of course, no answer. Then I received a text, "Out in town with Dwayne, I will call when I get back home."

I eventually fell asleep waiting for her to call. Awaking several hours later to the sound of my ringtone. While reaching for my phone I noticed the red glowing numbers of the clock telling me the time was well past 1:00 AM. The quick thought of wondering what took her so long was suddenly replaced with the hope of something promiscuous. The excitement of such a hope caused me to jolt fully awake like a splash of cold water on the face.

"Hello!" I screamed accidentally from my nervousness.

"Sorry if I woke you, I just got home." The familiar sound of my wife's voice came through the receiver. I noticed there was a slight slur in her speech, she obviously had been drinking and was clearly feeling the alcohol.

"That's okay, did you have fun?" I asked. Hoping to quickly entice her into telling me everything.

"I had a lot of fun!" she told me excitedly. I could almost imagine the smile on her face when she said those words.

"What took you so long?" I furthered question; prying deeper into her night.

"Well, I've got something to tell you." She said. Without another word I knew what she was about to tell me. Her next statement confirmed it.

"I had sex with Dwayne." Her bluntness coming from both the mix of constant encouragement from me and her temporary intoxication. This is exactly what I had been hoping to hear and imagined those words over and over in my head. But facing down the reality I still couldn't help be in a state of shock. I just froze and didn't say a word.

Finally I heard her speak again. "Honey, you mad?" Questioning my silence.

I shook myself back to reality and replied, "Of course not! Tell me more."

My anxiousness to hear about the entire event caused her to giggle. It reminded me of some teenager about to talk about their first time and even though it wasn't her very first -as I held that award- I knew it was nonetheless first for many other things. She began to tell me about the events that unfolded on her date. I could feel the heat build on my ear as I pressed the phone against it. She told me he had picked her up and they went out for dinner and of course dancing. She told me that she had reassured herself they were only friends and nothing was going to happen; however, they eventually started making out again then heavy petting and finally sex at our house. I tried to get every detail out of her but she was hesitant and drunk. I was getting frustrated with her poor descriptions and lack of details. I noticed the sleepiness in her voice and figured her inebriation was about to manifest into her falling into a deep slumber and so I asked my final question for the night. The question would be which room did they have sex in? I kept imagining her in our own bed; the place where we made love countless times; a symbol of our intimacy. The depravity of it filled me with the familiar cocktail of emotions that I so loved. Even though a small part of me didn't want to hear her say it, I couldn't help but feel somewhat disappointed in learning that they in fact didn't make it to the bedroom. Apparently they barely made it inside before they had their clothes off.

"We went to kiss goodbye and it got really heated then he grabbed my hand and brought it to his cock." she enthusiastically told me. "He was so hard I could feel him through his pants. After I got the door open he picked me up and carried me to the couch."

I was amazed that he had such strength for an old man, even for one as fit as him, but then again Irene is petite. My attention snapped back to her story as she continued to talk.

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