Stag and Vixen Lifestyle Ch. 01

In our previous story (I usually do the writing but she always edits and approves) we described how the fantasy of non-monogamy had fueled our sex fantasies for over two decades. Please read the posts entitled Prologue for background.

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I described in Prologue how she dabbled in sext play with a previous ex-boyfriend. I label him a boyfriend, but in reality he was more of a friend with benefits. They'd meet for sex periodically, but did not "date" per se. He was a man that lived close to her with whom she developed a casual sexual relationship. This was years before we met and the fact that she had a relationship like this one turned me on. With the help of social media, she was able to reestablish contact and continued periodic text and phone call contacts over the years.

He expressed interested in her discussions about possibly reestablishing their "friends with benefits" arrangement, but limited his interest to sexting and innuendo-laced conversations. He invited her to his house during the sexting session previously described, but it was unclear how serious he may have been at the time.

At this point it might be helpful to let you know a little about myself. I have what has been described multiple times as an intimidating personality and appearance. This is not helpful when your wife is flirting with another man. I find that it is much less likely to culminate in an actual adventure if the man has any inkling of who I am and has not had time to realize I mean no harm. Most men assume that a woman's husband is not aware of her flirtations. That's not the case with us. I know and encourage her freedom.

This particular man needed reassurance repeatedly that I was indeed fine with her flirtations. After months of communication between them, we finally determined that it was time to meet at a "safe" location so they could reestablish an in-person relationship.

Perhaps I should be blunt here: my wife is beautiful by anyone's standards. She is strong and has aged better than I could've hoped. She appears at least ten years younger than her actual years. I'm not going to get into cheesy physical descriptions. Suffice it to say she's stunning!

As we prepared for this encounter, we discussed and fantasized about the possibilities. We determined that we'd go with the flow and if the opportunity arose she would take the opportunity to play a little.

Before the encounter, she spent some time continuing her sexting with him. She played with him by describing potential play between them when they met. One of the scenarios they fantasized about was sneaking off to a room alone to play a little. This particular fantasy excited me and fueled hot sex between us as the date approached.

Finally the day arrived, but we had a decision to make: would she go alone or would we risk the intimidation factor by having me tag along? We decided that this was a joint adventure and that the "us" factor trumped the risk of frightening him away. With that decision made, we set off on our first real potential, maybe-adventure into extra person sex... Maybe.

So there we were. In the car on our way to meet my wife's former "friends with benefits" partner. You might think I'd be apprehensive or jealous or concerned or afraid. You'd be dead wrong. I was excited and horny as hell.

She arrived home from work and we made the decision that we'd go ahead with the meetup. I wasn't sure she go through with it. It seemed she may be playing a game with me. A kind of sexual game of chicken. Who's gonna blink first? Who's gonna call it off? Who's gonna admit they were only fantasizing? It damn sure wasn't gonna be me. In the past, it had always been her sensibilities that grabbed the steering wheel. Not this time. She got ready silently. Where was the "I'm too tired." I waited for the "it's too late to go out." I waited to hear an excuse in vane. She got ready, silently. Then the moment of truth: she stood at the door, dolled up beyond belief, and said, "Let's go." I called her bluff.

As we drove, I waited for her to verbalized the headache or the nausea or the second thoughts. They didn't come. We drove in silence. The damned infernal, hot as hell, silence. We parked in the lot at the meeting location and still I waited. Nothing. I walked her into the club. A very proud husband.

He met her at the door. Then he saw me. I thought I saw his erection deflate before my eyes. Such a look of disappointment I had never seen. Was it over? Maybe.

Then she did something I'd never seen before. I'd fantasized about it but I had never seen this side of her expressed outside our bedroom. She seized the moment and instantly calmed his nerves by focusing on him. She provided a quick introduction then turned her complete attention to his needs. She soothed his concerns. Expressed her interest in him as a sexual partner. I became an observer. I wasn't a threat to his chance for enjoying her body. She made her body his for awhile by offering her attention. It was amazing to me to see this side of her from the perspective of an observer. Someone else was being seduced by her sexuality. It was beautiful and amazing to watch. This was the woman that I fell in love with. The woman who could make a man her's with her stare. I was proud of her beauty. I was proud of her as she seduced and made this man want her. No I didn't walk around with a hard-on. My pleasure was mental. Psychological.

As I watched her focus on his needs, I realized that she had been doing the very same thing for me for decades. The new perspective I was witnessing made me appreciate her love for me all the more.

Then the moment of truth: she asked him if they could go somewhere where they could be alone for awhile. In an instant, he was up and moving. She looked at me, touched my arm and left the room with him.

There I sat. Wondering what was happening for the next twenty minutes. I ordered a drink and tried to relax. My wife was in another room alone with a man she's had sex with and may very well do so again. I should be frantic with jealousy. I wasn't. I was calm and collected. I waited.

She returned alone. From across the room our eyes met. She caught my gaze and held it as she smiled and walked over to me. I searched for a hint. There was none. No change in her love for me. No change in her beauty to me. In fact, she beamed. She was more radiant. I thought, well damn, nothing happened. He flaked. She couldn't. I felt disappointment.

As she reached me she leaned in and kissed me passionately. It was a long kiss. She was horny. Well, maybe something happened after all? It was, what I later would discover, a reconnecting kiss. The best kiss I'd had since the first.

I looked into her eyes as we ended the kiss and asked, "Well"? She responded with a simple, "Yes."

There they were: the butterflies. The telltale sign of a wonderful night to come.

I learned over the next few minutes that they'd gone to a private place where she kissed him. Not in a friendly, see you later old friend kind of way, but in a "let's pickup where we left off" way.

They played with each other sexually. She had another man's cock in her mouth. She allowed another man to see her. Touch her. Kiss her. Enjoy her femininity. She owned her self. Gave it to someone because SHE wanted to do so. Not because it was an obligation of marriage but because she wanted to feel a man wanting her for no other reason than her ability to make it so.

She became powerful. She became her own sexual person.

Then, she gave her self back to me. Voluntarily. It felt more volitious. She felt more... Mine.