Stepping Stones Ch. 01

I can no longer say that remember it as if it were yesterday, it has been a few years now. So this is as best as I remember a time that our lives really changed. I thought everything was going pretty well in our new family. Two gorgeous children. OK, yes, a mother's eyes are always biased. In my eyes our daughters are perfect in every way. Growing. Exploring. Becoming ideal little humans. A father who was doting on our lovely girls. Working hard work every day, striving to succeed. He already had a Bachelor's degree with Honours, and ploughed through an MBA while working a day job. His Doctorate soon after that, in the same fashion. Again, all while working - and like nothing could deter him. I'm beyond proud of him. He was, is, smart and driven.

Coming home night after night and making sure we all had everything we needed. Helping with the dishes, the girls, being present, and disappearing to study only after making sure that we could want for nothing else that evening. Desire for nothing else. Well I wished for more time with him, having to wait until late at night for intimacy was a strain, but there was a clear shared goal. Set us up for a comfortable life. Eventually he reached a position where he was known globally in his industry. The trappings of his efforts gave us luxury and lifestyle that most could never understand. Such as what it is like to be able to buy a new Mercedes just because it had 360 degree cameras. Or buy an 80 inch TV and outdoor speakers so that our girls might watch the Disney channel while in the pool.

That was my world. Extreme feminists might say I was devoid. Trapped by the patriarchy, as they say. That I was missing something and I was lesser. Lesser as I didn't strive for the career, the socially blessed fulfilment. Lesser as I didn't strive to make my mark on the world. To be honest, I thought I had already made my mark. I have two fantastic young girls. It was July of 2013, that made my eldest 10, my youngest 5. And they were my everything. They were my mark on the world. My indelible etching on the silver plate that makes up ones life. Did it come at a cost? Sure, I had post-natal depression, many women do and not enough women realize it. Having children remodelled my body. A bit more weight here and there which wouldn't move, and my hips a bit wider after pregnancy. Neither eating "right" nor time on the treadmill would change it. My boobs were less perky but my cup size definitely went up to a D. Spending money on new bras and sports tops was the new trend. I didn't hate my mummy body, but I was still well aware that I probably wouldn't pull off the tight little black dress anymore. I grew to love my womanly curves. Many lucky ladies do eventually find that love for their post baby body for all that it represents. Being a mother.

On one cool late Friday evening my Husband, Terry, and I were relaxing in the pool. Our girls were asleep which gave us some rare time together. The pool was heated which made sure we stayed submerged to our necks. The only exception would be to reach out of the water for a sip of our drinks. Baileys for me. Whiskey for Terry. We never really drank to excess. Just to take that edge off.

No matter where he drifted in the pool I wasn't far away. I needed the occasional contact from him. It wasn't intentional, I just gravitated to the physical connection with the father of my babies. My husband. While I was brought up brought up as a good Catholic girl, I loved my man and didn't see it as a chore. Nor the mandated "role of a woman" as if it was something distasteful or for upon me. It was just who I was and because I wanted to be exactly that for Terry, for our daughters. This was my fulfilment.

Tonight my man seemed distracted. Seemed to drift away from me in the pool. Not physically but he seemed not to be present like normal. I felt I knew him better than anyone. His mind was elsewhere and I wanted him to refocus to the here and now. As soon as he was in arms reach due to my stealthy aquatic manoeuvres I snaked my arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. He kissed back, but his body didn't respond as it had normally. Usually he pulled me hard to him. Normally I would feel his hardness pressing into my yummy mummy tummy.

That evening his body didn't respond. I reached down and cupped his groin. Terry isn't the most well-endowed. Certainly smaller than all my boyfriends in college. But I didn't marry him for that. I married him because he was kind, considerate, respectful, protective, caring, and compassionate. The real qualities of a man. I suspect he knew he was below average in size. Don't all guys? Don't they all secretly measure themselves? I certainly noted and compared my cup size to my friends during puberty. I never pointed out that he was smaller. What's the point? He certainly still managed to give me two perfect baby girls! And as for intimacy he was unlike many almost every guy I had dated. Terry loved to give oral. I cupped his groin, there was no response. This was a sure tell that his mind was fixated elsewhere.

"What's up, baby?" I asked.

He looked into my eyes and sighed. He paused, just staring into my eyes. He pulled me tight to him.

"I have a fantasy," he said. "Have you ever thought about sex with another man?" He asked. I think he blushed, it was hard to tell from the pool lighting.

Wow. Honesty time! Of course I have thought about a Mel Gibson or a Dwayne Johnson showing me what they can do. Especially while Terry is at work and the girls are at school or daycare. But when that happens I'm alone in our bedroom with the blinds drawn and my favourite vibrator fully charged and at the ready.

No point lying to the man who I adore.

"Well, sure. From time to time I masturbate and think about hot guys." I responded. "No one we have ever actually met."

"I'm glad you do." He spoke, relieved. "I do too." Terry added.

"I'm not surprised." I whispered. "Who is it for you? Kate Beckinsale? Selina Gomez?" I asked.

This is where I was about to be stunned. While he held me tight, I felt him harden a little into my tummy. So, thinking I might as well enjoy this, I wrapped my legs around him and the buoyancy with his strength held me up. I felt that hardness press between my legs.

Then his confession came. "That's not what I mean..." He paused, "...I imagine you having sex with other men. Men that you are eager to take to bed. Men that make you cum so much that you pass out."

I was stunned. I searched his eyes and then I felt it. I felt him. His cock was hardening and starting to press on my pussy. I had no words.

My husband. The father of our children has just told me he fantasied about me making love to other men and his body was responding. He continued.

"I don't know why. But it turns me on thinking about you being pleasured by other guys. Your gym trainer. Jeremy from next door. The waiter at dinner the other night that flirted with you. I imagine being able to watch you being pleasured in a way that I can't pleasure you. Being truly fulfilled. Sexually. By men that are stronger and bigger than me."

I was still speechless. My PT at gym, Syd, was young and hot. But at least 10 years younger than me. Jeremy next door was, well, my neighbour and while I'd noticed he was packing some tools in those board shorts at the neighbourhood pool party - he was a bit of a jerk. The waiter at dinner. Henry. I still remembered his name! Now that was a specimen. Tall, dark, African heritage with slim hips and a tight waist. Great shoulders! I had glanced at that taught chest and at his crotch while Terry was selecting the wine. I imagined the promise of what might be there. I sequentially imagined all three of them in the same position. Sucking on my nipple and pressing their hard cocks into me. The thought was fleeting. But arousing.

I regained my wits.

"You like to think of me being pleasured, by someone other than you? You know that can't happen right?"

Terry looked deep into my eyes.

"Why not?"

He kissed me before I could answer, and grabbed my bum and pulled me hard to him. I was stunned. He held me hard onto his growing erection. My anger. My doubts. My insecurities bubbled to the surface. I broke the kiss.

"Because I'm your wife, the mother of your children. Getting off on the fantasy is one thing but doing anything more breaks our wedding vows and I chose you, and you chose me. We have children together. And if I didn't know any better..." My anger was rising, "... I would think that you wanted me to be unfaithful so that would give you ammunition for a divorce!"

I pushed away from Terry, swam to the pool stairs, and climbed out. Tears in my eyes. I pulled my towel off the pool fence and walked inside hoping that our girls were still asleep and the neighbours had heard none of our discussion. There is no way they could have, but still I was overflowing with doubt. I'm also still not sure why I was crying. It's not like he cheated on me. Nor I had cheated on him. Maybe it was the raw honesty.

I was laying in bed, still awake, when Terry joined me under the covers and snuggled into my back.

"I'm sorry." He whispered.

"Sorry for what?" I asked and rolled over to face him.

"Sorry for making you think that I want anything except your happiness." Terry kept his voice low.

I nearly melted. Either this was an amazing ploy or he really was just thinking about me first and foremost. I decided to push him to see what it was. Ploy, or self-sacrifice.

"You know it won't happen right? Even though I might fantasise about guys it doesn't mean I'm going to do anything more than just rub one off while you're at work, right? And what if I did more? Slept with a man? I really don't think you could cope let alone me. What would you do then? Leave me? Take my babies away from me? Leave me with nothing? Not even a roof over my head?" My stream of questions were sharp and very much to the point.

Terry's eyes watered over and for the first time I saw him emotionally vulnerable. All this time he had been the hunter-gatherer. He had provided well and been stoic in face of the dot-com crash, the GFC, and numerous other corporate events. Now he had a single tear rolling down his cheek. I'd only seen him cry a few times. When our daughters were born and he had held them. When his father passed away and was booking his flights to go his home town for the funeral. And lastly when he received his doctorate and his mother was crying with pride at the ceremony. I think we all cried that day. But here he was, emotionally naked after I suggested he wanted something other than my happiness.

I tried another tack. I slid my hand into his boxer shorts and took hold of his soft penis. My grip was very firm. "What if I do think about other guys? What about Henry, the waiter we had at dinner the other night? Did you know I checked him out while you ordered the wine? I think he was packing. I'm pretty sure he was seriously hung. Much bigger that you. I know he looked at my boobs every time he came to the table."

Terry began hardening as soon as I mentioned the waiter. I squeezed harder. My hands are neither big nor overly strong but I definitely had a full firm grip as his penis barely filled my hand. I upped the ante.

"I bet he would have loved to get me alone. Can you imagine the size of his big thick black cock? All hard and ready?" The voice I used was sultry. I was making myself wet with the imagery. "You know I don't wear panties on date night. I would have been ready for him. Put your hand up my nightie and feel how ready I was for him."

I used my free hand to lift my nightie up to my stomach for Terry to run his hand up along my thigh to feel my very wet pussy. His touch was electric. I then hit top gear and my own fantasy took over.

"Can you feel how much his big cock stretched me, Terry? How he used me? I think that's his cum leaking out of me now."

It was at that point that Terry came. He wasn't fully erect, I had seen and felt him much harder that. I felt his penis pulse his meagre ejaculate on to my thigh just below my holy of holes. I had done nothing more than talk while having an unmoving firm grip on his stiffy. I let go of him and he rolled into his back. But I wasn't done. If he wanted to ride this fantasy, there are no 'halfsies'.

I wiped his contribution from my thigh and onto my pussy lips. I knew that a guy's libido crashes after they orgasm. I wanted to really see if this was about me, or him just using this perverted idea for his own personal kink.

"Honey, do you still want to see me happy?" I asked.

"Yes, more than anything." He answered.

"Even after I have fucked a man?" I probed.

"God, yes." His eyes pleading.

"I haven't cum yet. Lick me."

It wasn't a question. I was hot and bothered. The sex talk and the thought of Henry had certainly got my juices flowing. Normally I might have had my vibrator going at full speed by now. I needed a substitute.

Terry slid down the bed and I lifted my leg to allow him an easy path to between my legs. His mouth went straight to my lips and kissed me. It was an open mouth kiss and he used his tongue to explore my depths. I really wasn't far off. This was going to be quick.

"Can you taste his cum in my pussy?" I asked, knowing that Terry would be tasting his own seed.

Terry grunted and moaned as if he had cum again. The vibration from his groan sent me over the edge and an orgasm clenched my stomach and then rolled up through my chest to my neck. My jaw opened and I moaned through it while using my hands to rub my breasts through my nightie. The aftershocks were wonderful.

Terry was still suckling on my nether lips when I came down. I gently pushed him away. He looked deep into my eyes expecting me to say something.

"Let's go have a shower, its late. And the girls have dance classed in the morning" I rolled off the bed and headed for the shower.

I looked back when Terry got up from the mattress. There was a distinct wet spot on the maroon sheets where his crotch had been. He had cum a second time. He had cum when I hinted that he was tasting another man in me. Even though he was tasting himself, tasting both of us.

I needed to think. Why did I enjoy this? Why did the image of an erect 'Henry' flash through my mind when I came? Why did Terry really want this? Why would any man want this? Why would any husband want their wife to have sex with other men?

... To be continued.