Fucking My Wife

There was almost no way I was going to tell her what he said. To come out directly and tell me he actually wanted to fuck my wife was something I knew she would get really pissed about. I'm not sure why he thought he could tell me something like that and not have me punch him in the mouth for it, but he just told me without a moments hesitation he'd like to fuck that fine pussy of Claire's.

When she asked me what Jake and I talked about last night in the backyard I blew her off and said it was sports stuff. "Bull shit," she said.

"You looked like he just told your your sister was fucking a dog. I've never seen you in such a mood. What was it he said?"

"I don't want to talk about it," was all I could come up with without totally lying my ass off. She persisted and I finally just blurted out, "He wants to fuck you, okay?"

"That's all?" she said. "That's what you were so pissed off about. "That's nothing. Most guys wouldn't be that honest. So what did you tell him?"

"I said to go fuck himself," I said. "I told him to get the fuck out of here. I said my wife was not some whore he could fuck if he wanted to."

"Really? That was your comeback? That was your stand-up-for-your-wife rejoinder? Go fuck yourself? And what did he say?"

"He said he just told me the truth," I said, sounding stupider every minute even to myself.

"So he wants to fuck me and you feel insulted? How should I feel? Should I feel men shouldn't want to fuck me? Is that it? I should feel insulted and not complimented? I should feel men shouldn't want to fuck your wife, that they should feel I am too homely to fuck?" she said with a hurt expression on her face.

"Of course not," I said. "It's just that.... I don't know, I just thought it was too disrespectful to say."

"So thinking I am fuck-worthy is disrespecting me? Is that it?" I didn't know what to say. I had gotten myself in a ton of shit and there seemed no way to get out of it. I stammered. "Well, are you happy a friend of mine says he wants to fuck you?" I figured putting things on her was the best strategy, but that was far from right.

"I'm happier than if he told you he wouldn't fuck your wife on a dare," she said with a sneer. "Women don't like to be told they're not sexy, not desirable. You think we only want our smelly husbands to want to fuck us? Well, you're wrong. We'd like the whole world to want to fuck us. Why do you think we put on all that sweet smelling shit and dress up in sexy clothes?

"You're not the only stallions on the ranch."

I was totally snookered, totally fucked, and I simply didn't have a clue what else to say. "I love you," I said feebly. "You are all I desire."

"Yeah, we'll maybe so, but your friend thinks I'm worth fucking, and that makes me feel good, that makes me feel desired. Any idea when he wants to do it?"

"Any time you're ready, I'll bet," I said trying to restore some humor into the conversation.

"Well, tell him I'm ready any time he is," she replied with defiance. "Tell him he can fuck your 'your old lady' anytime he wants to throw back the sheets."

"You serious?"

"Deadly," she said with not a touch of it being a joke.

"Should I tell him?" I said meekly.

"Tell him... No, wait, I'll tell him," she said with a smirk. "What's his number?"

Without argument I gave her his number, then I watched her dial. "Jake, I hear you're interested in fucking Dave's wife. Well, when are you available?" She listened, then said okay, then hung up. "He says he'll be over in an hour."

We waited together after she went into the bathroom and fixed herself up, doing her hair, makeup, and showing. She came down the stairs and did not look at me for awhile. She just sat and waited for Jake.

I had no idea if she'd go through with fucking him, but I figured she was angry enough to just go ahead and do it and let me watch, maybe even make me watch. As we sat facing one another in the living room, I began to think of the possibility of it actually happening and a surprising thing took place: I actually began thinking of it occurring and getting genuinely aroused by the prospects.

I began to think I might just actually enjoy it, like the men in the wife-sharing stories on the internet. As she sat so nonchalantly, I thought about how actually beautiful and sexy she looked. Funny how another man's interest in your wife enlivened your appreciation of how actually ravishing your wife was.

When his knock on the door finally came we both nearly jumped out of our shorts. I had impulsively told her he said he'd like to fuck her and it totally backfired on me, and it had gotten us into this situation of waiting for him to come and fuck her in my own house, in probably my own bed. I looked at the clock and it had only been an hour since the whole situation had begun, and I couldn't believe we were waiting for what may be my former friend to come and fuck my very ticked off wife.

When he came in he had that I'll-fuck-her-while-you-watch look on his face and he didn't look at me. He was pissed that I told her, but he was also mad enough to make me suffer through the indignity of having to watch another man fuck my wife.

I didn't know what I would actually do if they went ahead with it. Would I just and be a spectator to my wife having sex with someone else, or would I make a scene and demand the whole thing be stopped?

She stood, took him by the hand, and led him to our bedroom door. I simply sat and watched them go inside and shut the door. It was genuine torture looking at the closed door and wanting to know what was happening behind it. Like not thinking of pink elephants, I could not help imagining what they were doing on the bed in our room. We're they kissing, fucking, clawing at one another like high school kids on their second date.

Was he pushing his cock into her pussy as she spreadeagled on the bed? I pictured him eating her pussy ravenously and I could also picture her sucking him to orgasm and taking his come down her throat.

In two hours, enough time to fuck a whole harem, they came out of the bedroom and she kissed him at the door. He left and she went into the kitchen and began fixing dinner. I never did find out what went on in that bedroom between my wife and my best friend. To this day I have never asked. It was clear that I better not have, so I ducked it up and bit the bullet, so to speak and let the secret stay between them. Oh, and he still is my friend, and neither of us has ever mentioned that day. It remains a family secret, known only to my wife and the man who took her to the bedroom for two hours on a Saturday afternoon in May.