I Wish My Wife Were More Like You…

This story is inspired by a reader's comment on one of my stories.

All the characters in this story are over eighteen.

My name is Dawn and I'm forty-two. My husband Jack is forty-six and we've been married, for the most part happily, for close to eighteen years. I say for the most part because as any married couple know life together is a journey that has its bumps and bends. Our present bump began almost two years ago and of course it involves sex.

When we met, I was fresh out of university and had got a job that required me to move to London. I'd grown up in the North and although I'd visited London, I didn't really know anybody there. I was invited to stay with Lynn, a friend of my sister's, who was living in Baron's Court, one tube station beyond Earl's Court on the District and Piccadilly lines. Lynn, like my sister, was several years older than me and she had found a nice conversion flat on the second floor of an old townhouse.

She was kind enough to take me looking for a place of my own as I had no idea where to begin. After several failed attempts I was able to find a bedsit that was on near a station that would get me to my work without a need to change so that was good. I would have to wait a week for the current tenant to vacate, but Lynn assured me that I was welcome to stay with her in the meantime.

I forget which night it was, but she was invited to a party and said there would be no problem if I came too. I was always up for a party as things had been very quiet at home in the weeks since I graduated. We did not leave until close to ten and things were jumping when we got there. I was introduced to the host and a couple of other people and the Lynn said, "See you later."

I was on my own when some creep came up and offered me a funny cigarette. I declined as I don't do drugs and had no idea what might be in it. He persisted and this rather good-looking guy came to my rescue and told him to scarper. I thought 'scarper' sounded a bit old-fashioned, but it did the trick.

He introduced himself as Jack and offered to refill my drink and that's how I met my husband. I won't bore you with the details but on the third date by which time I had my bedsit he walked me home and I invited him in for a nightcap. He left in the morning.

While she might not have approved of that, my mother would have loved him. He was "brought up proper," as she would have said. Well-mannered but manly with it. He was six foot three, not chunky but not skinny. He played rugby on weekends, and I enjoyed going to watch his games though for the life of me I can't think why.

When he did meet my parents, they did love him and fourteen months later we were married. We had our honeymoon in the south of France. My first time out of England and I mean England. At that time, I had not even been to Wales, let alone Scotland. I'm not sure anyone in my family had. That trip to France was so exotic for me and I loved every minute of it. We both have very active sex-drives so between the nights and our desire to see and visit everything we came home exhausted.

Although Jack wasn't a virgin when we met, I found out he had been until he was almost twenty -two. He had only had about two short-lived relationships and four or five one-night stands. He had never given or received oral sex and was not really aware of the importance of foreplay. In our conversations where he would be deeply interested in me and also tell me of where he had travelled in various parts of Europe in his late teens. In contrast, in bed he displayed almost no knowledge other than knowing in which hole to stick it.

By the time of our honeymoon, I had helped him develop significantly and the honeymoon itself was a breakthrough seminar. I had to be careful not to appear too knowledgeable myself but rather to say, "I've heard this can be fun," as I went down on him, or "Why don't you try this on me?"

I don't want to give the impression I was totally experienced but I did date a lot of guys in my time at university and it was generally understood that if I guy took you to a movie or dinner on a date you would give him something to remember you by even if you paid your share. By contrast with Jack, I willingly gave up my virginity to the love of my life shortly after my eighteenth birthday and we shagged pretty much every night and morning until three weeks later, when I met the true love of my life.

He was older and taught me a lot and that romance lasted nearly a year. Of course, I knew when he went on trips that he was shagging other girls, so I didn't feel I was cheating if I sometimes found consolation with someone else. All in all, by the time I met Jack I think I had probably given casual dates forty or fifty hand jobs and sucked off at least half that number. As for sex I had fucked at least fifteen different guys and counting my two relationships must have done it close to three hundred times.

You can't be in a relationship like that without trying a lot of things and learning what you like and don't like. If any of you think having fifteen different guys by the time that I was turning twenty-three is a lot, you have a very limited awareness. I know girls who in trying to find some lasting romance, have had two or three times that number of one-night stands or aborted relationships. I consider myself both lucky and comparatively chaste by comparison.

Unlike guys we tend not to brag about it. It's not a source of pride. Unless your partner is your high-school sweetheart. She's likely had more partners than you had at her age. At least that's my experience.

Let's face it I enjoy sex, even mediocre sex. It's the feeling of closeness and intimacy and the possibility that it will be great. Plus, like everything else it's a learning experience. What is it they say? The definition of insanity is doing the same thing again and again and expecting a different result. Well, if it isn't getting you off and the only sex you are having is letting the same guy put it in the same hole and go through the same routing, you are insane.

When I met Jack, I quickly realized that while we both loved sex, I must be careful not to frighten him. When we married, I took a solemn vow to be faithfully monogamous and I have stuck by it. Let's be clear, while for me regular sex is healthy and fundamental to my relationship, it is not its core.

When I met Jack, I found someone I could truly love at a level I had not experienced before. I was happy to rediscover simple sex and enjoy his discovery of the ways it might be varied. Together we found an illustrated copy of the positions of the Kama Sutra, and I pretended they were all new to me, quite a few of them were. Jack came home two days later with a version that had photos of real people doing them, including close ups, not just diagrams and that was definitely a turn-on.

Over time we discarded many but found the ones we really liked including the most everyday ones like the missionary position but with my spread knees held tight to my tits or extended into the air above his shoulders. That's one that let's him go as deep as he can go. All the cocks I'd had, remember it was only about fifteen, had not varied in length by more than an inch when fully erect.

I think that's common for the great mass of the male population. The longest I'd had brushed against my cervix in a way that could be exciting, but he was one of the brief encounters. A ship that passed in the night. I did know the difference between 'growers' and 'showers. Jack was a 'grower.' His flaccid three inches looked small against his six-three naked body. Even his full six inches looked small, whereas on a guy of say five-eight, it would have looked bigger in either state.

"Orgasms?" you ask. Yes, I have had some great ones but rarely without the help of fingers, tongues, and above all toys. It can happen but just with a penis but only when your mind has been stimulated to the point that it is inevitable. Of course, supposedly there was always the promise of what a really large one could do, but I had relegated that to the fantasyland of porn.

Quite early on Jack and I began to bring fantasies into the bedroom. He wanted to know about my past affairs seeking sexual details, but I said those were history and greatly underplayed the number of them, just admitting that, as a woman, I had possibly had more than him. After all, most guys are more than ready to see if you are willing. As we lay in bed, he liked me to tell him which actors I liked and what I would do with them, and he asked me to imagine I was with one of them as we fucked.

Several years ago, we returned to the south of France and found ourselves on a nude beach. It was not clothing-optional, you were expected to be nude. That cuts down on the gawkers. It was all very wholesome with couples and a family or two and absolutely no sexuality. However, after we returned Jack was inspired with more fantasies where he would describe how we were lying on a deserted beach nude. It began with him describing the things that he, or one of my movie crushes, would do with me on that beach and slowly over the months of retelling the beach became populated with curious strangers, or outright voyeurs, and eventually a ring of enthusiastic admirers shooting photos and videos of us as we fucked.

I confess I found his fantasy tales very stimulating even if some got a little over the top. He wanted me to tell stories too, but it was his thing not mine. Four years ago, he was pottering around online when he found Literotica. He became enslaved by the stories and led me to them. I confess I was more turned on by the best of those stories than his now well-worn beach fantasy. We would find ones we liked and read them together as a prelude to sex.

Curious, I started to look up members' bios and found that while many people gave little information, most of the readers were male, but there were also couples like us, and women too. Now I found that I too had stories to tell and began contributing. I didn't tell Jack I figured it would be a surprise when he came across them.

To this day he hasn't, but he stopped reading them to me and maybe at all. Instead, he started telling me his new fantasies. They all involve me either as an exhibitionist or more frequently getting into situations where I have sex with other men. At first, I did not mind these tall tales as they turned us both on, especially if there was something dangerously public about the location.

Shortly after the pandemic started Jack, like many people, had to work from home. As I already did, this led to more occasions of casual sex at odd times of the day. That's when he started asking me if I would like to have sex with someone while he watched. Not really paying attention as we had just had sex and I was focussed on getting dressed, I said, "Sure, as long as it's someone I like."

The following week he told me he had invited two of his work buddies over for a barbeque. We had been more or less totally isolated for weeks, but now the weather was fine it seemed safe to socialize outdoors with a limited number of people. I bought some corn and marinated some pork ribs. I figured we could socially distance in the yard while we ate and keep our masks on inside.

I'd met both his friends before. Jason was an athletic guy whose folks had immigrated from Trinidad and Brad was originally from Sheffield not too far from where I had lived. They were both about five years younger than me, but they were easy company, and we had a thoroughly enjoyable evening, while observing all the Covid protocols despite our silly Prime Minister.

After they had gone, and we were in bed Jack asked which of them I would most like to fuck. Well in fantasyland that wasn't a hard question.

"Oh, Jason for sure, I have often wondered if what they say about black men is true." I was rubbing Jack's cock while he played with my clit.

"How about Brad? Would you fuck him?" He slid two then three fingers into me.

"If you'd like me to," I said living the fantasy that was really working for me, "If you want to climb aboard, I'm about to come."

I was surprised when he didn't. He just kept working me with his fingers and rambling on about the two guys, but he'd lost my attention, as I was working my clit as hard as he was thrusting his fingers into me. I had two or three orgasms in quick succession. As the last spasms were subsiding, I was surprised to hear him say, "I'll invite the guys to be part of our pod." The word 'pod' was being used to describe a safe limited circle of one or two friends.

"Is that safe?" I asked.

"I told you they both live alone and are more isolated than we are. It'll be fine."

◊-◊-◊-◊-◊

The following Friday lunchtime Jack told me Jason would be coming by for drinks around five thirty.

"We don't have anything to offer him for dinner," I said.

"It's just drinks. If he stays, we'll order pizza."

Jason arrived just three minutes late. He immediately presented Jack with a bottle of his favourite malt whisky and me with a bottle of Banyuls, a drink I had learned to appreciate in Roussillon on another trip to Southern France to watch a stage in the Tour de France bicycle race. At least that was the declared intention. He accompanied the gift with a bise, the double kiss the French use to greet each other. He smelled wonderful, and I hoped I did.

"Jack mentioned you like this drink. I hope that's right." His voice was educated home counties with just a hint of the lilt of the West Indies.

"Yes, Thank you so much. It's not always easy to find here," I was questioning if Jack's invitation was as impromptu as he had made it sound. Come in and we'll sit by the pool."

Jack said, "Go ahead I'll just get the wine and some glasses."

I led Jason out to the pool area and put up the umbrella as the sun was really hot.

I asked how old he was when his parents immigrated. I guessed he had grown up here.

"I was born here," he laughed, "My father came to do his doctorate at Imperial College and was recruited to continue his research. He's a tenured professor now. My mother is older. She also came to study and stayed. She's a clinical psychologist. She was thirty-four when they married. My dad was thirty. She was thirty-six when she had me."

It turns out he was an only child. We talked about a load of the things our travels and how Jack and I met.

Jack amazed me by saying, "She had had a lot more relationships and was much more experienced than I was, but she hid it well." When did he figure that out and more to the point it was totally inappropriate to be bringing it up now? I did not comment, nor did Jason but he did give Jack a puzzled look.

We got back to talking about other things and we were on our second bottle of wine when I saw dark clouds on the horizon.

"I think a storm's coming in. There's one in the forecast, and right on cue we heard a rumble of thunder."

"I should be going,"said Jason.

"Nonsense," said Jack, "I'll order a pizza. Bring your glasses and the bottle inside with you while I put down the umbrella."

So, we moved indoors all putting on masks. We continued talking and in twenty minutes the pizza arrived.

We sat suitably distanced while we ate. When we finished, Jack produced a pack of cards and said, "Are you up for a game of pontoon, Jason?"

"I really should be going," replied Jason.

"Nonsense," said Jack, "I'm not going to let you drive. It's still pouring out there and you've been drinking. We've got a guest room. If it doesn't let up, you can stay the night."

I was immediately alert at Jack suggestion we play cards. My mind was swirling. The only times I had played pontoon with Jack was a strip version as a prelude to sex.

It turned out Jason was not familiar with the game. Jack explained it's pretty much the same game as twenty-one, vinqt-et-un, or blackjack. You are dealt two cards and can ask for more when it's your turn. The objective is to get as close as possible to a score of twenty-one. If you go over, you lose.

We played a few hands until Jason got the idea. Jack poured me a Bailey's and then poured both himself and Jason a large brandy.

We put down the cards and did a quick toast. Then Jack shuffled the deck and said,

"we need a wager to make it more interesting."

"I don't gamble. I used to, but it's a way to lose friends," replied Jason.

"Well, we could play for clothes if you're OK with that. Dawn and I often have. It's just a bit of fun."

I expected Jason to object, but he paused and then said, "OK, I don't mind as long as Dawn is all right with that."

I paused. "Was this a set-up? I actually didn't think so unless Jason was a hell of an actor." So, I surprised myself by saying, "Sure, I don't mind it's just a bit of fun."

"Dawn and I go to nude beaches, so she's fine," said Jack. Another unnecessary comment.

I tend to make rash decisions when I've had a few drinks and I had a premonition of Jason's naked body that was quite enticing. With Jason's encouragement I had fantasized about it before more than once since first meeting him. I felt a warmth deep in my pelvis.

It didn't take more than a few rounds before we were all getting down to our underwear. I still had my bra and panties, and Jason had his shirt and his Y-fronts. Jack was down to only his underpants. I hate to admit it, but I was feeling excited, well rather juicy actually. Jason I'd learned plays centre back on his football team and I could already tell he was in great shape. Jack is fit but he carries a few extra pounds in not the sexiest of places.

I'm rather proud of my own body. I run and do regular yoga and I was blessed with good genes, so nudity doesn't scare me. I even knew I had a healthy all-over tan as our back garden is very private and I when Jack is out, I often swim or sunbath nude. I don't let him know because I don't want everything to turn into sex.

On the next round I won. There went Jason's shirt and Jack's last item. I saw he was almost fully erect. Well, to be fair I was already quite aroused. My attention was on Jason. He had a firm six pack, well developed muscles, and a hairless chest. His body was that of an athlete not a bodybuilder, and I wanted to run my hands over it.

Then Jack won. My bra came off and I was sitting in my less than dry panties as Jason removed his shirt Y-fronts pulling them out from his body and over his cock.

"Well," I thought, "On a sample of precisely one what they say about black men is true. He wasn't erect but it was sticking out away from his body at a low angle and it had to be eight inches. Not a statistically relevant sample size, but very relevant to me here and now. It was beautiful and I felt a pre-orgasmic ripple run through me.

"Now we play dares," said Jack.

"Why don't we swim," I said, "the storm is gone, and the moon is out. I don't feel like dares."

"I don't have trunks," said Jason.

"You don't need them. We are all naked and the pool is totally private," I said, and I thought, " I really need to rinse these panties, before they start to smell."

I led the way to the pool and slipped in still wearing them. "Can you get us some towels, Jack."

"You're not naked," said Jason.

"I am now." I held up by sopping wet panties and climbed on to the side of the pool. I went over and hung the panties on the clothesline and walked back and stood directly above Jason.

"Satisfied?" I knew he was looking at my shaved pussy lips and trimmed pubic patch. My outer labia were engorged and spread. I was open for his inspection, and I revelled in it. I had never felt this exhibitionist vibe before. I was living a fantasy.

I dropped back into the pool beside him. He touched my breasts, and I held his cock below the surface as Jack came out with the towels. We stepped away from each other, and I began swimming. We did not stay in for long. A breeze got up and we headed back to the house wrapped in towels.