Irene's Blossoming

1.

Everybody has fantasies, even those, like my wife, who claim they don't. I had a recurring fantasy. Many married men fantasize about other women; I fantasize about Irene, my own wife. One day, we were making love. Irene was lying in the bed, on her back, and I was between her legs, with my cock inside of her. Irene's facial expression betrayed intense pleasure. I love the sight of my wife enjoying sex. I don't know from where it came but, in the heat of the moment, I imagined a second man entering our scene and placing a big cock inside Irene's mouth. That mental image was so strong and arousing that I instantly felt on the verge of an orgasm. That might not have been the first time I imagined Irene touching another man, but that moment remains fresh in my memory to the present day.

In the beginning, it was always about a second cock in Irene's mouth whenever I was inside of her. Then, it evolved. I began fantasizing about Irene being intimate and wild with other guys, while I watched or behind my back. In my fantasy, the man was always secondary to his cock. I never imagined her with a friend of mine, a neighbor or any other real person. The man was always a shadow, an inconspicuous figure with no importance whatsoever. Only his cock, always big and impressive, had a part along with my beautiful Irene. This peculiarity would also evolve...

I remember being in my gym's locker room. I was sitting on a bench, leaning forward, looking at the floor, taking a couple of minutes of rest, after my exercise and before the shower. Suddenly, a great black shape showed up in the periphery of my vision and I instinctively looked up to see what it was. There was a black man coming out from one of the shower's stalls completely naked. He had a towel but, instead of covering his body, he was carrying it in his hand. His cockiness and exhibitionism seemed to have its origin between his legs, where hung the biggest flaccid cock I had ever seen in a locker-room. The man seemed to be paying no heed to the rest of the guys present in the room, but his nakedness and proud posture made each of us aware that he was bragging about the greatness of his cock. Nothing in this account would matter and all would have been quickly forgotten, if I hadn't seen my wife talking to that same man later.

When I left the shower stall, the exhibitionist was no longer present. I dried myself, put on my clothes and left. Irene was somewhere in the gym waiting for me, after her aerobics class. I headed for the lobby and that's where I spotted them talking. Irene seemed to know him, although I had no idea who he might be. I was walking towards them and, when I was a few feet away from Irene, she looked at me. That's when the stranger used one of the older tricks in the world. The moment my wife diverted her gaze from him, he took the opportunity to check her out, unaware that her husband was approaching.

"My husband is here," I heard Irene saying when she looked back at him. Then she added with a friendly smile, "See you tomorrow."

"Who was that?" I asked when the stranger left.

"He is a security guard in our branch office, Mr. Allen. Can you believe the coincidence?" Irene answered.

That guy and that moment naturally slipped my mind, until later in bed. I was trying to fall asleep and my mind was basically unfocused on a multitude of unrelated thoughts when one absurd idea emerged from nowhere: what if Irene was having an affair with Dwayne? It wasn't a troublesome thought and there wasn't a reason for any suspicion. In fact, a few moments later, I was fantasizing about my Irene being fucked by Dwayne's huge cock, at her work, during her working hours. That day's events merged with my fantasy and all I could think of was how close my wife had been to that hung black man.

Aroused by my own thoughts, I wanted to wake up my wife and make love with her. I wanted to tell her about Dwayne's prying gaze and shock her with the size of his cock. However, I restrained myself because I knew that it would be useless. My words wouldn't arouse her and I would end up frustrated as had happened many times before.

2.

Irene knew about my fantasy. When I told it to her for the first time, the idea unsettled her. My wife couldn't understand how I could feel aroused by the scenario of her having sex with other men. I tried to explain to her that I wasn't depreciating her, quite the opposite actually. My fantasy was about experiencing new sensations, new emotions, free from any shyness or moral constraints. For once, I desired to see her lost in the search for pleasure, with no care for morals, unstoppable, not for love but for pure lust. With time, my wife became accustomed to the idea but never fully understood it. Considering her conservative approach regarding sex, what else could I expect?

I never hoped that she would easily jump on board and say, "Let's do it!" My goal was much humbler. I was hoping that, by confessing my darkest fantasy, she could also feel free to share some of her secrets or, at least, desire to experiment more with me. Occasionally, during our intimate moments, I tried to invoke the presence of another man and get some encouraging reaction from her. Irene tolerated this behavior only to humor me but never took active part in it. She claimed that she already had all that she wanted and had no need for fantasies or new experiences. I resigned myself to this idea. Still, deep inside, I always kept a glimmer of hope that, one day, things would change somehow.

Maybe, it was this hope that forced me to confide in her one night. We were lying in the bed, when I asked, "Have you ever fantasized about another man?"

"I already told you before, the answer is no," Irene calmly said without taking her eyes from the book she was reading.

My wife was right, she had already answered this question before, more than once, and the response had always been the same. However, I had to start from somewhere and this had been the best I had come up with at the moment.

"What do you think of Allen?" I continued.

"Who?" she said still not paying attention to me.

"The guy from the gym, in the other day."

"Oh, you mean Dwayne," she said.

Irene was already acknowledging him on a first name basis. This encouraged me to ask again, "What do you think of him?"

"He is nice," she casually said.

"Have you ever thought about having sex with him?" I dared to ask.

This time, my wife couldn't pretend to be distracted. She had to know where this conversation was leading, but, I guess, she wasn't expecting my blunt question.

Irene looked at me, clearly surprised, and said, "But he is black..."

"Is that a problem?" I inquired.

"No, but... I mean... He is good looking and there is nothing wrong with the color of his skin but... He is black..." she awkwardly replied.

Irene didn't know what to say. She didn't want to seem prejudiced but she also didn't want to encourage my ideas. Her state of confusion created the perfect moment for me to press further, "So you think he is attractive..."

"Yes..." Irene honestly said, but then she tried to lighten her answer, "Of course, he is good looking. Anyone can see that. But that doesn't mean I want to sleep with him."

"If we weren't together... If you were single and free of commitments... Would you consider dating him?"

Irene remained quiet for a few seconds. She was seriously weighing this possibility but, in the end, she chose not to answer at all.

"That's a silly question," she said and at the same time she shook her head as if she were trying to suppress from her mind any undesirable thought. "Besides, there must be lots of girls interested in him, much younger and prettier than me."

"Does that mean..."

My wife quickly interrupted me, "Let's have an end to this nonsense. We both have to work tomorrow."

In a continuous act, not open to discussion, Irene closed her book, placed it on the nightstand, and switched off her light. My provocations seemed to be annoying her more than usual.

Irene was already accustomed to my sporadic incursions, when I press her with naughty comments or intrusive questions of a sexual nature, so her answers were most often short, dull and patronizing, but this time, something had been different. Irene was more upset than usual, as if I had just touched a weak spot.

I couldn't let our conversation end like this. So I leaned over her and whispered in her ear, "Can I ask one last question?"

Irene rolled over in bed to face me and replied with a condescending tone, "Go ahead."

"Are you attracted to Dwayne?" I promptly asked, staring at her eyes and using his first name on purpose to invoke any proximity that may exist between the two. I waited for an answer but none came. Instead, Irene's face reddened. I smiled at her and said, "You're blushing."

"Oh, shut up!" my wife complained as she pushed me away and turned her back to me. However, she still had one last thing to say. With a vicious tone of voice, Irene answered an earlier question, "Yes, I would gladly date Dwayne..."

The words came out of her mouth as if she was trying to punish me for uncovering a secret she wanted hidden. But the effect was quite the opposite: I felt rewarded for my persistence.

Irene was attracted to another man. It was probably a minor and unimportant infatuation that would go away as quickly as it manifested. Still, this was a big thing for me. For the first time, I knew for sure that Irene wasn't immune to other men's charms and this had to mean she harbored secret desires, temptations, and all sort of taboo feelings that she would never admit to me, the man she loves and is married to, maybe not even to herself.

I was feeling as excited as a kid with a new toy. Her infatuation towards Dwayne might be minor and silly, but I was ready to use it for my own purposes.

3.

Strangely, after a night of planning and fantasizing, I woke up with a bitterly jealous feeling. The idea that my wife could have a hidden side was very exciting... but also quite frightening. This recent discovery about Irene forced me to question my fantasy. The idea of my wife having sex with another man was powerful and arousing in my mind, but what would I do if I had the chance to fulfill it in real time? I couldn't honestly answer this question, but I also knew that my indecision wasn't enough to forget my fantasy.

Later at night, the anxiety forced me to go to bed earlier than usual, in hope that Irene would follow me right away. She met me a few minutes later with her book in hand. The moment she settled next to me, my hand probed inside her pajama and touched one of her boobs. My wife accepted my caress but didn't react and resumed her reading.

"Can you read while I touch your breast?" I teased.

"Yes," she shortly replied.

I removed my hand as I studied her face, trying to find any evidence of disappointment. Irene didn't flinch. Then, I slid my hand downwards, under her pajama pants. The moment it touched her labia, I asked again, "Can you still read?"

"Yes," she casually answered once again. But, this time, her legs slightly opened and allowed my fingers better access.

I was lucky. Despite her distracted behavior, Irene seemed to be in the right mood. A few seconds later, my cock was buried in her.

"Gently," she replied to my impatience.

All I wanted was to be inside of her, before I started to ask the questions, "Tell me, why do you feel so attracted by Dwayne?"

"Oh no... No... not that subject again... Don't ruin this..." my wife protested.

"I already know you're attracted to him, so don't deny it." I saw the reluctance in her face, but I knew I could always appeal to her condescending side, "Humor me, please."

There was a moment of silence. I could see the struggle in Irene. Then she said, "He is tall... He has broad shoulders..."

Irene wasn't properly answering my question. Instead she was giving an unexpressive account of his physique.

"Do you like tall men?"

"No," she said as she shook her head twice, but I didn't understand if she was answering my question or telling me to stop my enquiry.

"Is it because he is black?" I insisted.

"I don't know..." Just when I was starting to feel that I would not get anything from her, Irene surprised me, "Maybe a bit..."

Irene's answer seemed to betray much more than she intended. Instead of simple answers as in the other times I had inquired, Irene was honestly reacting to my questions. Most of all, she was admitting that the color of Dwayne's skin played a part in her attraction. I couldn't believe that my own wife had a soft spot for black men.

"Black men have big cocks," I suggested.

Irene smiled and scornfully replied, "Do you really believe that? It's a myth."

Yes, I knew that this was a myth. But in Dwayne's case, the myth met reality.

"Have you ever fantasized about his cock?" I continued.

"Of course not," she replied.

My hips were already moving for a while, but at the sound of her words, the rhythm increased.

I leaned over my wife and placed my mouth close to her right ear. Slowly, I whispered, "Imagine your hands touching him, feeling the muscles in his arms and chest. Imagine his big hands touching your skin, your nipples, cupping your boob and squeezing it gently. Imagine your naked body pressing against his young, virile body. Imagine his lips touching..."

I wanted Irene to continue with my descriptive tale and tell me where she wanted to be touched. However, all that she gave me was the sound of her heavy breath. I looked at her eyes; they were closed.

"Are you thinking about him?" I tried.

Irene's eyes immediately opened in panic, as if my guess was truthful.

"No!" she replied.

"It's okay," I calmly said. "You can close your eyes and picture him. I don't mind."

It seemed like a vain attempt to fuel Irene's lust. The result was both surprising and beautiful. After a moment of indecision, Irene shut her eyes; she was fantasizing about Dwayne.

My mouth returned to her ear and I slowly continued, "Imagine his strong hands raising and opening your legs. His cock is hard. He has wanted to take you since the moment he first met you. Imagine the first touch of his cock. Imagine it pressing inwards. Imagine his weight on top of you. He is inside of you..."

Suddenly, Irene's arms enveloped me and her hands pressed my body against hers. In her fantasy, I didn't know if she was holding me or Allen. A couple seconds later a powerful orgasm exploded, much for my excitement.

All this time I had been taking the wrong approach. The idea of fucking another man might not mean a thing to Irene, but the idea of fucking Dwayne specifically... was a different story.

Aroused by Irene's reaction to my words, I increased the movements of my hips so that I could cum too. However, Irene pushed me away and viciously said, "I'm done with you tonight. You can finish by your own means."

Once again, this was her way of punishing me. My wife was angry with me, probably feeling guilty too. Still, my teasing had been worth it. Despite the abrupt end of our night, this felt like the most exciting thing we had ever done.

4.

I kept invoking Dwayne in most of our intimate moments for many more nights... and mornings too. With time, Irene became accustomed to it. Her reaction to my words became less evident; her discomfort and anger afterwards my fantasizing also faded. My wife was trying to go back to her old self, where my provocations could be easily dismissed. However, she never dispirited me. No matter how much she tried, I could still see the effects of my words in her: her pussy was taking less time to become wet and her arousal during penetration was much greater; also, her sexual appetite increased and her need to cum every time we had sex became more regular than before.

Then, one night, her conservative shell cracked and she openly questioned me, "Doesn't it bother you that I may be thinking about another man while we make love?"

"No. The naughtiness of it turns me on," I replied. I didn't need to ask to know the truth, but I did it anyway, "Does it turn you on to fantasize about him?"

Immediately, Irene's expression changed and I knew I wouldn't get an honest answer from her, "No. Don't you get jealous?"

"Come on. If you want me to answer your questions, you need to answer mine too."

I guess, this time, Irene really wanted to have this conversation and only needed some incentive from my part to proceed. So she said, "Yes, but imagining another man when I'm with you... it doesn't feel right."

"Why?"

"You know why."

"As long as both of us enjoy it, why shouldn't we?"

Irene didn't answer back. She seemed to be meditating about my words.

"Do you fantasize about me and Dwayne? I mean Allen... Dwayne..." she hesitated. I realized how hard this conversation was for her. Even something so insignificant, like addressing him by first name, something that she had done before under other circumstances, seemed a big deal to my wife now.

"Yes."

Slowly, the questions were coming out of her mouth as never before, "Would you like me to have sex with him? For real, I mean... I'm not saying that I would... or that I wish it... But if I wanted to, would you like it to really happen?"

The simple fact that Irene was asking me that question was already a big step. However, just as before when I asked that question of myself, I didn't know the answer. I knew for a fact how much the idea turned me on, but I didn't know if I really wanted to make it real.

Still, after all the progress I had been making at opening Irene's mind, I didn't want to sound indecisive, so I assertively said, "Yes, I would love it."

"What's the big deal? Making love with you is more than enough for me."

"I don't want you to make love. I want you to have raw sex, no love involved, only pleasure and lust," I replied. "That's why it can't be with me."

My answer seemed to scare Irene... Or maybe it impressed her. I didn't know for sure how to read her reaction.

For a moment, I thought that the conversation was over... but it wasn't. Irene seemed to have chosen that moment to release years and years of questions, "Let's just say that I would accept to do it... I'm not saying I will... because I don't want to, okay? But if I said yes, then what would happen? I'm curious. What would you do to convince Dwayne?"

I was surprised by her curiosity, but the answer was simple, "I wouldn't have to do anything. It would be all up to you."

"What?"

"You would have to seduce him."

"Me?" Irene said with a big mocking smile on her face.

"Yes."

"That's ridiculous. I wouldn't know what to do. Besides, why would he want anything to do with me, when he can have someone much younger and prettier?" said my wife with skepticism.

Irene had no idea of her sexual potential. With the right confidence and attitude, nothing could stop her. I wished she could see it for herself.

"Give him the right signs... and see for yourself."

"The right signs?" she repeated incredulous.

"Stop attending your aerobics class for a while and spend some time working out with him," I boldly said.

"Oh shut up!" my wife roughly replied.

All of a sudden Irene's curiosity turned into anger. Despite how my words may have sounded, I wasn't really asking her to do it; I just wanted to explain her how it could be done. Still, my wife no longer wanted to talk about this subject, leaving me no choice but to respect her wish.

Irene wasn't outraged by my hypothetical suggestion; she was outraged because part of her felt attracted by the idea. I didn't know this for sure, of course. But the more she exposed her dark side, the more I began understanding how her mind worked. Anyway, as unbelievable as this may have seemed before, a few days later, Irene accepted my suggestion and decided to skip her aerobics class.