She Found Out

Ryan sighed as he pulled into the driveway. When did things get so hard? He shifted into park and laid his forehead heavily against the steering wheel. It hadn't always been like this; he used to be excited to get home to his wife, to open the door and engage in the ritual of a hug and a kiss and a "how was your day?"

Something had changed, lately. He couldn't put his finger on when it started, but he was pretty sure he knew where. It started in him, in his own mind, something that had always been there, waiting for him to notice it. A dissatisfaction he'd been afraid to ever recognize; a desire he couldn't admit, even to himself.

Christina was everything he'd hoped for in a wife -- well, almost everything. So why couldn't he be happy? Why did he feel like he was always holding something back? She was kind, and smart, and beautiful; she put up with his hobbies and his bouts of moodiness; if they ever had kids, she would make a great mother. She supported him, and he supported her, and they'd built a home and a life together. That should have been enough.

What was missing was the spark, and he knew it was his fault. His fault for wanting things she couldn't give, wanting things that he wished he didn't. He'd never told her what he wanted, but how could he? How do you sit down your beautiful wife, from her traditional family, and tell her that ...

He shook his head and undid his seatbelt. He wasn't ever going to tell her. Maybe she would understand, and be okay with it, but it was more likely that she wouldn't, that she couldn't, that she'd look at him differently, that she'd think it had all been a lie. It wasn't a lie! He loved her, he loved being with her, but there was an itch he couldn't imagine asking her to scratch.

How long could he go on like this? Forever? Or would he crack at some point, and break her heart, when she discovered he'd turned into one of those men caught in some bathroom or seedy motel room or...

Ryan dispelled the thoughts from his head, took another deep breath, and got out of the car. He grabbed the bags of groceries from the trunk, struggling to balance them all in one hand while he opened the front door.

The house was quiet when he walked in. He set the groceries down on the kitchen table, flexing a suddenly sore left arm -- how could groceries be so goddamn heavy? -- and grabbing a beer out of the fridge. "Christina?" He called out, padding through the seldom-used dining room and into the living room.

Usually on a lazy Sunday she'd be perched on the couch with her feet up, watching some reality show, probably sipping a glass of red wine. Today, she wasn't there. He knew she was home, since her car was in the driveway. Maybe she went for a run?

"Christina?" He said again, a little louder.

"I'm up here," she called down from upstairs. Something in her voice sounded a little strange, a little strangled, like she was out of breath. Or crying. Ryan felt a stab of anxiety in his gut as he went up the stairs. The door to his office was open. She didn't usually go in there...

He stepped in. She was sitting in his chair, hunched over, staring at his screen. When he looked past her at the screen, the anxiety turned into panic. He almost dropped his beer.

"What the fuck, Ryan," she said quietly, not looking at him. "Are you gay?"

"Of course not!" His face was suddenly hot, his heartbeats hammering in his ears. The wave of panic turned to irrational anger: at her, for using his computer, even though she could whenever she needed to; at himself, for not covering his tracks. He always covered his tracks, used incognito windows, fake emails for the tube sites, he always signed out and ...

But there on the screen was the last video he'd watched. He'd jerked off to it yesterday, when she was out with her friends. It had started out as a 'normal' porn session, but when those vanilla videos didn't do it for him -- they never seemed to, lately -- he'd felt the itch, and switched over to the gay site. He didn't really think about it, when he did this. He didn't wonder what it meant or what the implications were. He wasn't gay, he just liked to watch men get fucked by big, bare cocks, and he liked to imagine himself in their shoes, taking it...

"I don't understand," she said. "You're ... why were you watching this? Just be honest with me, Ryan. Please." Finally she looked at him, and her eyes were red and cloudy from crying. The pain and hurt in her eyes crushed him.

"Sometimes I get bored with regular porn and..." he swallowed. "You know. You explore a little bit and ... you know. Like you watch lesbian porn, sometimes."

"That's different!" Her voice was sharp, now, and she looked away from him. "I told you about that. A lot of girls do that."

"A lot of guys do this," he mumbled, lamely.

"Do they?" She pressed the back button, glaring at his search history. "Bareback. Breeding. Sissy twink ... what the fuck, Ryan!" Why didn't he close the window? All he had to do was remember to click that little red X. One red X could bring his whole life crashing down, his marriage, his house...

"Look ..." he felt himself deflating, all the pent-up anxiety and dread that he'd kept bottled up for so long suddenly pouring out of him. This was it; she found out. She knew. She was going to leave him, they'd have to sell the house, and he'd be alone. She'd tell his friends, probably. His parents. At least the secret was out; he didn't have to carry it around, anymore, all twisted up inside himself. "Please just listen to me for a minute," he stammered. "I meant to tell you. I wanted to tell you. It's just ... I didn't think it was a big deal, and I wasn't sure you'd understand, and ..."

"Don't tell me it's not a big deal," she said. "If it 'wasn't a big deal', you would have told me about it." She stared him down again. "Are you gay or not?"

"How could you think I am?" He didn't mean to yell, but he did. "Of course I'm not. You think I've been, what, faking it all this time? I love you, Christina. That's the truth."

Something in her eyes softened. After a few moments she looked down, her voice thick. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to jump to ... to that. I just don't know what to think, looking at this ..." She bit her lip. "Are you bi, then?"

"I don't know." He felt his shoulders sag, and suddenly he was sitting on the floor, without remembering how he got there. He set the beer down next to him and buried his face in his hands; his eyes were burning. "I'm ... not attracted to men, like that. I mean I don't look at guys on the street and think they're hot, you know? I'm just ..." He swallowed heavily, and forced himself to look at her. "I'm just curious, is all. Sometimes I like to watch that kind of stuff and imagine what it's like."

"But you jerk off to it?"

"Well, yeah," he murmured.

"And it turns you on?"

"Yeah."

She leaned back in the chair, silently watching him for a few moments. Her face was unreadable. "So you just like to watch it? You've never ... you know ..."

"Are you asking if I cheated on you? With a guy?" Ryan shook his head, bitterly. "That's not fair. Of course not. I would never do that."

"But ..." she paused, her head tilted to the side slightly. She got up from the chair and sat down on the floor next to him, laying a soft hand on his arm. "I mean, have you ever wanted to? Is it just something you like to watch, or is it... a fantasy?"

He could lie. He wanted to lie. But he'd been telling these lies of omission for so long, and now that the dam had been broken it had to come out, it all had to come out. "I've fantasized about it," he admitted, his voice thick. "What it would be like to ... give a blowjob, or to get fucked. Yeah, I've thought about it. I would never act on it, but..."

He took a deep breath, fighting back tears. He hated crying in front of her. Maybe it was one of the last vestiges of 'toxic masculinity' that he clung to, but he never wanted her to see him as weak.

"It's okay," she said. The hand on his arm moved up to his face, stroking his cheek. "It's okay, babe. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel like I was attacking you, or judging you. I was just shocked, and I didn't know what to think. It's okay. Come here!" She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close. They embraced there on the floor, a little awkwardly; he let out a breath, burying his face in her neck, smelling the floral scent of her shampoo.

"I just wish you told me about it," she said quietly, in his ear. "No secrets, okay? I want to know everything that's going on in your head. You can trust me."

"Thanks," he mumbled, still trying to hold the emotions in. "You're ... not mad? You don't look at me differently?"

"Of course not," she said, kissing him on the cheek. "I'm sorry I reacted like that. I really am." She pulled back to look at him, grabbing his hand. "You know, I watch that sometimes, too."

"Gay porn?" He laughed, wiping his eyes. "Really? You never told me."

"I thought you'd think it was weird," she said, smiling faintly. "A lot of girls do it, though. It's kinda hot."

"You think so?"

"Yeah, I don't know. You gotta mix it up sometimes, right?" She squeezed his hand. "I mean it. You can tell me anything. Okay?"

"Okay," he said.

"Let's go eat something." She smacked him playfully on the thigh, smiling weakly. "I'm fucking starving."

*

It felt like something had changed between them, and not in the way he'd feared. He felt closer to her; he felt lighter, like he'd finally stopped carrying something he'd been holding on to for so long that he'd forgotten it was even there. They had a normal enough day, eating together, relaxing on the couch to watch some Netflix and just be together. When they went to bed, he was tired, a little confused, and still not sure where they stood. He lit the scented candle she always kept on the nightstand and slid into bed next to her.

Usually he always had to initiate with her -- that's just how it had always been, despite his attempts to get her to be more open -- but that night, she rolled over to face him and laid a hand on his boxers, gently stroking him through the fabric. "I have an idea," she said, her eyes sparkling in the candlelight.

"Yeah?"

"Why don't you get the iPad and show me some of the videos you like," she said, squeezing slightly around his cock. "We can watch them together."

"Really?" They'd watched porn together before, but not often. Their sex life in general had been boring for the last few years. He chalked it up to marriage, a new house, the routines of a shared life. Maybe she'd blow him for 30 seconds; then they'd move to missionary until he was close; then she'd go on top, which was his favorite part, and ride him while she pressed a vibrator against her clit until she came. They almost always finished in doggy. Sometimes, while he slid into her and spread her cheeks apart with his hands to reveal her little pink asshole, his mind would wander. He'd imagine he was the one bent over, taking cock from behind; in the moment right before he came, he'd sometimes wonder how it felt to have a man's cock throb and jump and fill him with cum.

"Yeah, really." She smiled. "Why not?"

The thought was getting him a little hard. He decided to take her up on it. He went into the office and came back with his iPad, laying down next to her again. Her hand found his stiffening cock, squeezing around his shaft through his boxers, and she kissed the side of his neck. "If I wasn't here, what would you watch?"

"It depends," he admitted. "It's not always that stuff... or even usually."

"Don't be shy," she said, slipping her hand underneath his waistband. Her fingers were cool against the tip of his cock.

He thought it would probably be best to start her in the shallow end, so he searched for 'bi MMF' and took a look through the thumbnails. She watched over his shoulder, stroking his cock lazily. She let him choose the video, without saying anything. After some scrolling, he settled on one and clicked play.

It launched right into the action: a man lay on his back, his big cock standing at attention, with the guy and girl kneeling on either side of him, sharing his dick. The girl had her slender fingers wrapped around his thick base, while the guy sucked greedily on his fat mushroom head. She jerked that dick into his mouth; after a few seconds they switched, stopping to kiss each other around his shaft.

It made Ryan rock hard. He'd always fantasized about that, sharing a cock with Christina, her encouraging him to suck it, to feel it growing between his lips. She seemed to notice; she leaned in to kiss him hungrily, her hand working faster up and down his cock. "You like that?"

"Yeah," he said, his face flushed.

"It looks hot," she murmured, kissing his neck again, her voice low and husky. "What if we did it?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know," she said, and bent over to take him in her mouth. He sighed as her hot, wet mouth enveloped him. It was rare for her to ever go down on him; he'd assumed she didn't really like doing it, but tonight seemed different. She sucked him hungrily, her tongue swirling around his head. When she came up for a breath, she shifted slightly to look him in the eye. "What if we did it?"

He started to wonder if this was some kind of trap. They'd never talked about having a threesome before, much less ... that kind. But it was hard to think with the video on the screen -- the guy was deep-throating that cock, now, with the girl's hand on the back of his head, pushing him down as far as he could go, encouraging him. "I don't know," he managed. "Would you want to?"

"I'd try it," she said. "I might like seeing you with your lips around a cock ..." she took him in her mouth again, sucking hard while her fist worked his shaft.

The video cut to the cocksucker on his knees on the bed, his face buried in the girl's pussy. The other guy was standing behind them, pressing the tip of his lube-slicked cock against the guy's hairless hole. A groan escaped Ryan's lips as the top's cock spread that hole open and slid into it, all the way down, until his balls slapped against the bottom's.

Christina looked up from his dick. "Move it so I can watch," she said, and he placed the iPad on the bed next to him where she could see it while she sucked him. She watched the screen for a few moments, transfixed, while her hand glided up and down his length. "You like that, too?"

"Yeah," he groaned.

"You like watching guys get fucked like that?"

"Yeah!"

"What are you thinking about when you watch it?" Suddenly he jerked upwards; he hadn't noticed her arm slip between his legs until he felt her slick fingertip pressing against his asshole. She never did that. He'd told her liked it, but he could count on one hand how many times she'd fingered him; she had no idea how much he played with toys when she was gone, how hard he'd cum with one of 'her' buttplugs inside him.

He spread his legs for her, and she spit into her hand, pressing into him again. Her spit wasn't quite enough lube, but he was so turned on that he didn't care; he let out a sigh when her finger slid into him. "I think about what it would feel like," he said, quietly, his face flushing.

She pushed her finger deeper inside him, probing. "To have a cock in your ass?"

He bit his lip and nodded.

She took him in her mouth again. The honest truth, which he'd never had the heart to tell her, was that her blowjobs just weren't that good; but tonight, she was eager, and he was so turned on, and it all felt different. Her finger found that right spot inside him, and he groaned, pushing himself down further against her hand while her hot tongue and lips slid up and down his shaft.

He turned his head slightly to watch the video. She was watching it, too, while she fingered and sucked him; he saw a hunger in her eyes that he wasn't used to. The top was really giving it to the bottom now, in long, fast strokes, his balls slapping against the bottom's taint. Ryan never knew why, but this was one of his favorite things to see in porn: a big cock fucking a man's ass, raw, the primal urgency of it, the top taking what he wanted, the bottom moaning like a bitch in heat.

The top's balls twitched and he buried himself in the bottom, the base of his shaft visibly throbbing as he pumped his load into that ass. It was too much for Ryan; he groaned, his ass clenching tightly around her finger as he shot his load into her mouth. She kept jerking him all the way through, as he'd taught her to do. Finally she let his cock slip out of her mouth, and pulled her finger out of him -- he winced slightly from the friction.

Wordlessly, she came up to kiss him. Her tongue pushed his own still-hot cum into his mouth, thick globs of it; he choked a little in surprise. She'd never done that before, but he didn't fight it. He'd tasted his own cum before, of course -- who hasn't? -- but it was different, coming from her mouth, slick and warm between their tongues.

She pulled away from him to swallow and wipe her mouth, laughing. "You liked that, huh?"

He nodded weakly, leaning back against the pillow, dumbfounded.

She rolled onto her back next to him, spreading her legs, her hand moving between her thighs. Ryan was not a selfish man; after a deep breath, he rolled over and kissed down her stomach, making his way between her thighs. She was as wet as he'd ever seen her.

While he went to work, he stole occasional glances up at the iPad, still lying where he'd left it. Another video had started. While he lapped at the folds of her pussy and sucked on her clit, he watched a man bouncing up and down on a cock; before he knew it, he was hard again.

*

It was like a switch had flipped for his wife. They went from sex one or two times a week to at least once a day, sometimes even twice. She initiated more, and now every time she sucked him off she'd slide her finger -- or even two -- into his ass and milk him into her mouth. They'd turned a corner. Their sex life was getting kinkier, and kinkier; he'd never felt quite so satisfied.

Even so, it came as a shock to him when, one night over dinner, she slid her phone over to him and winked. He looked down at the screen and couldn't believe what he saw: his own dick, standing at attention!

"I made you a profile," she said, innocently. "Well, I made us a profile." Stunned, he swiped through the pictures: a naked shot of him, below the neck, which she'd taken when he came out of the shower; one of her, showing off her breasts, and then a close-up of her pussy. She'd named the profile curiouscouple4u2020.

"Are you serious?" He glanced up at her, not sure what to make of it, not even sure what he was feeling. Was he excited, or nervous, or angry?

"Is it okay?" She looked uncertain for a second, covering her mouth with her fingers. "It doesn't have our faces. I can delete it..."

"No, it's just ..." he paused. "I know we've said a lot of stuff in the heat of the moment, but do you, you know, actually want to go through with it?"

She took a big sip from her glass of wine, then nodded. "If you do. I've been thinking about it a lot, and ... if you want to try it, I want to let you. I want to experience it with you, too. I think it could be really hot. Especially if ..." she trailed off, her face growing red.

"If what?"

"If we found, like, a dominant guy," she said, nervously, looking away from him. "For both of us. Would that be okay?"

"Yeah," he said, surprised. He knew she was submissive -- unfortunately, so was he, so that was an aspect of their relationship they'd never really explored -- but she didn't talk openly about it. Or at least, she didn't before. Now, all bets were off.