How to Expand Your Wife's Horizons

We continued this for over a year. Between times with Vicky, I'd returned to the lifestyle I described in 'My Introduction'. My heart really wasn't into it, however. Instead, I thought about asking Vicky to take a job in Hamilton and move in with me.

Fate was to take that decision out of my hands.

A Wednesday night, only a few minutes before closing time, Vicky phoned the company I worked for.

"Can you come and see me tonight, John, please?" She asked.

"Sure, are you at your flat?"

"No. I'm in Rotorua."

A little over an hour's travel time is nothing here in Australia. In New Zealand, it seemed like the other side of the planet.

Equivocating, I answered, "How long are you going to be there for? I could come down on the weekend if you want?"

"No. Can you come down tonight, please?"

Trying to work out why she would need to see me so urgently, the answer suddenly hit me, "Are you pregnant?" I asked.

Bursting into tears, Vicky wailed, "Yes."

"Where are you staying?"

The motel she was at was on the northern side of Rotorua on the main road into town. Breaking all speed limits, I was there under an hour later.

We had dinner in the motel's restaurant. During dinner, we carefully avoided the reason I was there. Taking a walk along the water's edge after dinner, we finally discussed the elephant in the room.

"I'm sorry, Chubby, but I have to ask this. Are you sure it's mine?"

Nodding grimly, Vicky responded, "It has to be. You're the only one I'm currently having sex with."

A little disbelievingly, I responded, "You're out on the road visiting all these different people and towns, but you're not having sex with anyone?"

I would have been. I would've been banging every slut I could.

Vicky stopped. I took a couple of steps before realising she'd stopped, then turned back.

Looking at me intently, my soon-to-be wife stated, "Before you, I never enjoyed sex. I used to let my husband fuck me because that's what a good wife does. The only orgasms I ever had before you were when I played with myself."

Turning back to the motel, she flung back over her shoulder, "Go back to Hamilton. I'll deal with this myself."

I stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. Vicky turned to me with her green eyes flashing. It was then that I realised she had a temper to match mine and was possibly even more stubborn than I was.

"Don't touch me!" She yelled.

Laughing, I hugged then kissed her, "Chubby, I had to ask."

Slightly mollified, Vicky answered, "I guess you did."

To cover all bases, I asked, "Do you want an abortion?"

I 100% support that it is a woman's choice, and I would rally in the streets to protect that choice. I just think it's a bad choice, especially for the unborn child. If Vicky had wanted an abortion, I would have accepted it and helped her to get it. But, any relationship between us would have ended then.

How could I have a relationship with someone who had killed one of my kids?

"I can't," Vicky replied. "According to the doctor, I'm already more than twelve weeks pregnant."

"What do you want to do?" I asked.

"What do you?"

"We're good together," I answered. "Why don't we move in together on a trial basis and see how it goes? No promises, no declarations of undying love, just two people who like each other, giving it a go for the sake of the child we've created together."

That's what we did. We rented a small flat on Hamilton's western side and set up house.

As luck would have it, I got fired a week later, and Vicky struggled to find a nursing job. It didn't matter. We were young, in love, and nothing could stop us. We took whatever jobs we could find, and we made do: picking berries, labouring, anything that paid an income.

The flat was fully furnished, which meant we had everything necessary to live--a bed, fridge, washing machine, a sofa, and a couple of chairs.

We worked together for many of the jobs we could find. We enjoyed that.

When Vicky was around the eighth month of her pregnancy, we had an opportunity to buy a sports store franchise. Gathering every resource we had, we managed the deposit, purchased the store then moved to Wellington to operate it.

There was a gap of close to two months between purchasing the franchise and being able to take over. In this gap, our first child was born--a bouncing baby boy weighing just shy of eight pounds (3.6 kg).

Once we settled in Wellington, I started on my plan to help Vicky develop some self-confidence. I began by making her dump most of her clothing. Being a victim of abuse, Vicky dressed very conservatively. Chubby has a great body, and I wanted her to wear things that would emphasise her assets. Namely, her high tight boobs and taut round ass.

Vicky didn't want to wear the first outfit I had chosen for her because it was so foreign to how she typically dressed. Finally, after a number of tears and tantrums, she flounced, "All right, I'll wear the damned thing, then. But when everybody laughs at me, I'm blaming you."

The outfit garnered her a heap of compliments. To this day, I select most of her outfits. I have an excellent eye for colour and can put together clothes combinations that match well with a person's hair, eye, skin colour, and body shape.

Vicky and my sex life was excellent, but it was very much 'vanilla sex'. Consisting of some oral followed by plain old dick in pussy fucking. Having lived with Liz and Becca for almost two years, I was accustomed to a far greater variety of sexual experiences.

Chapter 3: Introducing Sexual Variety.

Working slowly and patiently, I started to introduce different types of sexual activities to our lovemaking.

Guys, to give you some idea of what you may be up against, it took me six months just to get Vicky to allow me to finger her ass as I serviced her pussy with my tongue. It took close to another six months before she let me lick it.

During this learning phase, I ensured Vicky achieved several orgasms every time I made love to her. When she resisted me doing something new, I reassured her I liked doing it. I also pointed out that whenever I introduced something new, she came hard and often every time.

Once Vicky was comfortable with the idea her ass could be a pleasure zone, I began working on getting her to allow me to fuck her in there.

I started by exerting more and more pressure on her rosebud as I rimmed her with my tongue. For months, whenever I pushed my tongue against her ring, Vicky would protest, "dirty", then twitch her bottom away from my mouth.

With two of my fingers inside her pussy, Vicky couldn't deny that her body loved what I was doing, as her pussy's sphincter would clench down on my fingers when I pushed my tongue onto her ring. But she refused to admit her enjoyment to herself, let alone me.

When Vicky accepted being 'tongue fucked' in the ass as a pleasure she enjoyed, I changed my tongue for my finger. I had to follow the same patient process as before. Voicing no complaint or offering any observations that her body obviously enjoyed it by how wet her pussy was. Instead, I would move my finger away, work on bringing Vicky closer to orgasm, and then reintroduce the finger.

Several months later, I could insert my finger into the third knuckle as my wife orgasmed and clenched her ass down onto my finger as she moaned, "Oh Gawd, is that good. Oh, so very good."

Waiting until Vicky had accepted some ass play as something she loved, I added a second, then third finger, stretching her hole wide enough to take my thick 7-inch cock.

One night, as we made love, I never touched her pussy at all. The only stimulation she was getting was through my fingers and tongue on and in her ass.

After around thirty minutes of this, Vicky begged, "Make love to me now, baby. I need you inside me."

Putting her legs over my shoulders, I pushed her hips back until her rosebud was high enough for me to penetrate.

"I'm going to slip my dick in your ass, honey, okay?"

Vicky froze, "No! It's just going to hurt."

"Yes, baby, it will," I told her truthfully. "As my cock's head pops through your ass' sphincter, it will hurt for a brief moment. But once your ass relaxes, you're going to love it, I promise."

Nodding fearfully, Vicky allowed me to continue.

I slid my dick into her ass until I felt the resistance of her knot. Then, holding still there, I leaned forward to suck, lick and nibble on her breasts. As I felt her legs relax, I straightened to spread my hand over Vicky's clit, slipped my thumb into her vulva, and found her Gspot.

With my thumb on her most intimate pleasure spot, it didn't take long before Vicky's ass' sphincter released as her other sphincters pulsed in reaction to the pleasure she was receiving.

With the pressure released, I could push home with only a slight twitch and moan from my wife. Once I had slid all 7 inches inside her, I held still, kissing her softly and stroking her erogenous zones as I gave her ass time to adjust to having a cock inside it for the first time.

It didn't take long before Vicky's eyes opened, then closed, followed by a deep guttural moan of, "I don't believe how good that feels. I feel so full. It feels unbelievably intense. Fuck me, baby, please. Gently though, because I'm still scared it will hurt."

Working carefully, I began moving a little way back and forth inside her ass. As Vicky's moans and arousal grew, I lengthened my strokes until I was pumping all 7-inches in and out of her ass.

I wanted my wife to enjoy the sensation of a cock breaking through her knot, so I pulled everything out of her before pushing back in several times as she rode the sensations up to her approaching orgasm.

Biting her lips to stifle her moans, my wife came from anal sex for the first of many times.

Now she had allowed me to add anal to our sexcapades, I began introducing other activities.

Because Vicky had already made love to me in front of an audience, starting there seemed logical. So initially only doing it when there was no one in eyesight, I started seducing my wife in public places.

Vicky was very much a prude in those days, so trying to get her to let me even feel her up in a public place was problematic. Every time I slipped a hand up her skirt, groped her bottom, or brushed the backs of my hands across her nipples, Vicky would jump away and mutter, "Stop it".

But like having to break a filly to the bridal, I kept lightly touching these areas until Vicky became accustomed to it and relaxed enough to enjoy it. This project culminated with me fucking Vicky as she bent over the rail on the Hawkesbury River's Newcastle Expressway lookout.

Vicky had braved wearing a very short skirt sans knickers for the first time. It was New Year's Eve, and fireworks were exploding all over, under and around the bridge. There must have been twenty or even thirty other people at that spot.

We had gotten there early to get a good viewing position. Because Vicky is so short compared to me, I suggested I stand behind her to make more room for the others. As the first of the other viewers walked to the platform, I pushed Vicky forwards over the railing, lifted her skirt, then unzipped and pulled my cock out before sliding it into her pussy from behind.

Vicky and I had gone out for dinner before moving to the lookout, and I had spent the car trip turning her on, so she was very wet and aroused. She muttered a complaint and tried to move off my dick, but I was holding her tight.

With my arms wrapped around her so she couldn't move, and my dick buried in her pussy, my wife didn't dare struggle or protest too loudly lest the other onlookers saw what we were doing.

Initially, Vicky lost her arousal as she was terrified of being caught. But when she realised no one was aware, or if they were, didn't care, Vicky started to get into it. The first I knew that my wife was getting into being fucked in such a public place was when the heat in her pussy raged, and the wetness returned.

Next, Vicky began clenching down on my tool, trying to make me cum. The joke was on her, though, because I had total control of myself. As she pulsed on my cock, I moved my hips back and forth in a barely noticeable fashion.

With this angle, the underside of my cock's head and shaft were pressed against Vicky's Gspot. The slight hip movement and her gripping down on my dick caused my wife to orgasm. Taking my hand in both of hers, Vicky bit down on my wrist to stifle her moans and groans.

I think, now that she had cum, she expected me to surreptitiously back out of her and put my cock away. I didn't. I took advantage of the fact she is multi-orgasmic to fuck her through four more cum events before the fireworks show ended.

We waited on that spot until all the other revellers had departed before my wife dropped to her knees and blew me into a stupendous orgasm. I hadn't wanted to cum inside her pussy as we stood there because my cum would have leaked back out and down her inner thighs, making it obvious what we had been doing.

Chapter 4: Moving to Australia.

In 1986, after nine years of National Party rule under Sir Robert 'Piggy' Muldoon, the Nationals were swept from power by the incoming David Lange/Roger Douglas Labor Government.

In a program called 'Rogernomics' by the press, the Lange government made massive changes to New Zealand's financial infrastructure. The least of which was the introduction of a GST.

Inflation, which had already spiralled out of control under Piggy Muldoon, went astronomical. Then, in 1987, came the 'Black Wednesday Stock Market Crash'.

The interest rate on our loan surged from 10% to 33.33%. At the same time, the rental on our inner city store blew out from $1500 per square metre per year to $3300 per square metre.

Doing the math, I quickly realised we could cope with one expense rise, or the other, but not both. Talking it over with Vicky, we decided that all we could do was shut the store down and salvage what we could.

I felt ashamed that I had failed and had no desire to try again in New Zealand's current economic climate. So, with the princely sum of $379 and an unpaid debt of $7500, we moved to Brisbane, Queensland, Australia, with our eighteen-month-old son to start again.

We chose Brisbane, as opposed to Sydney or Melbourne like most of our compatriots, because Vicky had relatives we could stay with until we could find jobs and a place to rent.

$7500 was a lot of money in those days. It took us almost three years to pay it back and clear our bad credit history.

Being a nurse, Vicky had little problem immediately securing a job, so I played house-husband until the New Year.

This turn of events had the bonus effect of forcing Vicky to take a more dominant role and played a big part in her progression from a shy wallflower to the strong and confident woman she is today. As our family's only provider, Vicky was forced into taking more responsibility, which helped her self-confidence enormously.

In February 1988, I started work as a showroom salesperson for a large, worldwide electronics store. My career progressed swiftly with this company. In less than three months, I was promoted to showroom manager for a store that, at the time, was the biggest in Australia.

Six months later, I was promoted to area manager for Rockhampton.

Things were going well, and our relationship was strong, so we decided to try for another child. We expected Vicky to take some time to fall pregnant because she had been on the pill since the birth of our first child.

It seemed that the day after she stopped taking her pill, Vicky fell pregnant. Finally, after some birthing difficulties, our second son came into this world.

We wanted one of us to stay home with the baby for at least the first two years. Because I had a secure job and Vicky had maternity leave, Vicky became a house mum again.

Ironically, Vicky seemed to take a backward step into being subservient to me again. No longer being an equal-paying partner seemed to make her think she had to surrender herself and her personality to me once more.

My career with this company ended in late 1991. I was the regional manager for Sydney, running fourteen showrooms, two warehouses, a collections department and an accounts department, and I had a staff of 192. During a Board of Directors meeting, I told the company's Australian CEO exactly what I thought of him. It's a very closed shop at Australia's top end of the corporate ladder. Now that I had a reputation as being 'difficult to work with', no company would give me a similar position.

Neither of us wanted to live in Sydney, so we packed up and moved back to Brisbane.

Late 1991 and early 1992 was a dark time for me, and I fell into the first of my many subsequent battles with the 'black dog' of depression. I had no desire to try and pick myself up and look for another career and had no idea what to do, even if I did have that desire.

I tried selling real estate. I'm a top-notch salesperson and can do the proverbial 'sell refrigerators to the Inuit people'.

Actually, that always seemed a simple proposition to me. These people wouldn't need the fridge to keep things cold, but a fridge would keep their foodstuffs from freezing.

Even though I'm a gifted salesperson, I dread cold calling. The beginning of your career in real estate is all about the 'cold call', and I sucked at it. This drove me further into depression because here was another career I was failing at.

Because I wasn't making any money, Vicky had to put our children into day-care and get a job. In my mind, her having to do that outlined in stark relief what a failure I was.

During this time, I met Marla again. I had briefly met Marla earlier when I was the showroom manager at Indooroopilly. She came in to rent some home electronic equipment, and I served her, then took the items out and installed them.

She reminded me a lot of my ex-wife, Mistress Eliza, and was around the same number of years older than me that Liz is. I was immediately sexually attracted to her but made no effort to pursue this as I was happily married.

In my depressed state, meeting her again rekindled my ardour.

Vicky and I were still making love, but not as often or as vigorously as before because Vicky was always tired, and I was depressed.

With my body reacting so strongly to Marla, I made the mistake of falling into an affair with her.

The first night Marla and I fucked there was no 'making love' to it, it was pure animalistic lust. I discovered that night that Marla was into BDSM, only she was submissive.

Marla and I conducted a torrid six-month affair before we were, inevitably, found out. During this time, I delighted in revisiting some of my earlier experiences, only this time as the Top.

Vicky took the boys and left.

Moving in with Marla, I quickly discovered how big a mistake I had made, so I broke it off.

It took some time, but Vicky and I reconciled later in 1992. Interestingly, our breakup was a good thing for Vicky. Living alone whilst raising two boys taught her that she didn't have to rely on me, and she learned that she could be self-sufficient.

By the end of 1992, Australia entered the 'recession we had to have'. Jobs were scarce, and inflation was running high. So I did what many people of that era did. I 'bought' myself a job. I bought a taxi licence to own and operate a cab within Brisbane's metropolitan taxi district.

As part of our reconciliation, Vicky and I chose to formalise our relationship by getting married. Ed and Cheryl agreed to do the ceremony, so our small family took a holiday back in New Zealand for this joyous occasion.

During our separation, Vicky had begun exercising every day again. Although she wasn't big by any stretch of the imagination, she had come to match her nickname of 'Chubby'. At 32, Vicky was back to being toned, shapely and gorgeous.