Stepping Stones Ch. 02

You can see from that tags what this story is probably about. You actually don't have to read it if you think you may be offended.

For all others, please enjoy the journey.

E.J.

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I was beyond confused. Surely the last few days were a mistake of interpretation. Obviously a fantasy is one thing. A bit of harmless bedroom play, some dirty talk, and maybe some toys. At one stage or another we've brought a range of things to the bedroom to spice things up. What couple doesn't? Keeping the mood light but freshening up our intimacy a little with some fluffy handcuffs, a can of whipped cream, some chocolate body paint, and a vibrator or two. Nothing that would end up, at least in my mind, leading to your man wanting to see you intimate with another. All these thoughts were in my head and it's only 6am. Terry was still asleep beside me. lightly snoring and his morning erection making a little tent in the sheets. I only had an hour before the morning fiasco of getting kids up, breakfast eaten, dishes done, and our daughters to the dance studio.

I pushed my side of the sheets off me and sat up in bed facing Terry with my legs crossed. Laying a hand on his chest I gently rocked him and whispered.

"Terry, are you awake?" Why do we even ask that when we can see someone is clearly still asleep? I tried a less passive approach.

"Terry, wake up." Not a whisper this time. He stirred and opened an eye and groaned in that tone that meant he wasn't remotely interested in being awake. I shoved him again.

"Terry, we need to talk before I get the girls up."

He opened his eyes and rolled toward me. He blinked slowly a few times and came to his senses. "hmmm, last night was so hot." he sleepily slurred.

"About that," I began, "my head is all over the place. Are you serious that you want me to do what we role-played last night? Really? or is it just some bedroom fun for us?"

Terry pushed himself up into a sitting position and gazed unblinking at the foot of the bed.

"Well?" I asked expectingly.

Silence.

"I need to know, do you really want me to have sex with other guys? Do you really want me to do this to you?" I placed my hand on his arm and he looked, finally, into my eyes.

He inhaled and began. "Yes. Both. All of it. I can't explain. I felt you cum harder last night than I've ever seen. Your whole body vibrated and that made me cum. It's the thought of you getting so much pleasure, and then proving it to me, makes me feel as if I'm doing my job as a husband. Looking after you so that you get all of your wants. All of your desires. That feeling makes me happy. Makes me horny."

"And what if I did? How long before you leave me? Us? And go find someone else?"

He started to speak and I held up my palm. I couldn't hear any more right now. I was still spinning from the idea. "I need you to take the girls to dance this morning. I need time to think." I left it at that, got off the bed and went into the ensuite. A long soak would help.

I had to have been in the bath for at least 2 hours, adding more hot water whenever I felt the water cool away from that perfect soak temperature. My fingers and toes were wrinkled from being in the water way too long, but Terry wasn't back yet and I was enjoying the solitude.

In those two hours I played out many scenarios. Me sleeping with a guy. Terry leaving me. Terry finding another wife. Terry staying with me. Me catching an STD. Terry catching something from me. People finding out about this and that. Losing friends. Losing family. My emotions were on a roller coaster. From arousal, to anger, to loss, to heartache, regret, anger, frustration. Guilt. The guilt was that some of was turning me on. It had turned me on! And so much doubt. I needed to talk to someone else. Someone open minded. Surely Amanda was the person. Amanda was that free spirit. I knew she had threesomes and had the occasional bi experience in past. She was "out there" on several levels in comparison to me. I also needed more space. I just couldn't see how I was going to process this with Terry so near, and the daily house and family activities demanding time.

When this happened we owned a fairly nice beach side holiday apartment just a few hours north of where we lived. That's where I decided would be the best, most peaceful, place for me to end up after talking to Amanda. I had to get moving since even if Terry waited at the dance studio for the girls he would be home soon.

Here is a tip. When you've been in the bath for a few hours, your legs don't work how you normally expect. They really didn't want to move as quickly as I wanted. Nor in any planned direction. Coordination seemed elusive. Simple things like just getting dressed was laboured. Jeans are hard when your legs don't play the game.

After packing up an overnight bag with clothes, toiletries, laptop I got myself and the bag into the car and pulled out of the driveway. I needed a restorative coffee. Terry was due a text message. Once I reached the cafe I sent, "going up to the apt for couple days. need to think this. gimme space. luv u." Autocorrect then wasn't as invasive as it is now and you could actually write some fairly simplistic words without the phone getting all Spelling-Grammar-Nazi on you.

I also sent Amanda a text asking if I could call her in 30. The response was her usual "SYCH". That was her invented acronym for "Sure You Can Hon." This is why we were friends, I loved her 'out there' individual approach to everything. She could invent new perspectives or approaches in a heartbeat. She was also really smart. One of the smartest people I knew. I always wondered why she, with her intellect, hadn't become super rich. I guess she viewed her place in life differently. It was that open mind that I absolutely needed. Instead of calling her, I decided to just go to her place. I knew she would be home.

When I got to her house it was a turning point. I hugged her and cried. I told her what happened and cried some more. I laid out all my fears and balled my eyes out. Crying helps, and Amanda let me. After I had calmed down my very wonderful friend, who I have since come to cherish like no other friend ever, suggested that Terry might want to be a cuckold. I wasn't actually sure then what a cuckold was, so she described it as a guy that likes having his wife sleep around while he remains faithful. Amanda then gave me some suggestions. First, I should get a counsellor and therapist. Then I have to have a long discussion with Terry and tell him everything I had just told her, my fears and everything. Third, I needed to find out more about his fantasy and why, now, did he want to turn it from being masturbation fodder to some level of reality. And lastly, that I should not do anything I didn't want to do, and I must, MUST, put myself first. She made me promise to do those things before I did anything else. I hugged her again and had yet another cry. Talk about a day of waterworks!

Amanda then said some things that surprised me. She said I had to be the luckiest woman alive. Lucky because Terry had laid it all out to me and trusted in our marriage and me, so much that he told me his inner most desires. Most guys would probably just have buried it. What he was really doing was starting a conversation from his perspective about what we might do to improve our lives both in and out of the bedroom.

Lucky? I can tell you now that I sure as heck didn't feel lucky at the time. Far from it.

She went a little further and said, "Hon, an open relationship on your side is a wonderful opportunity. You do really get to have your cake and eat it too! But you both have to be totally honest about it, and what that means and might mean down the track."

I just needed time to think. I went from Amanda's directly to the holiday apartment. I have to say, I don't remember much of the drive. I was on autopilot. In a trance perhaps. All of a sudden It was mid afternoon and I was pulling into the building's parking garage. I don't even remember typing in the security code for the gate. I was phasing in and out while wondering where all this might lead.

After I opened the apartment door and dropped my bag on the hallway floor, my next stop was a nearby grocery store for food. Then a bottle of Kahlua. So shoot me be for being a child of the 80's! I needed to eat, I had skipped both breakfast and lunch.

The Internet was next on my list. Surely it would tell me what this cuckold thing really was. I had already poured myself a drink and changed into a daggy but wonderful t-shirt fabric nightie. Sorry people, but when a woman is stressed-out and alone, the last thing we care about is looking hot. Comfortable is the only desire.

So what is it? What is this "thing" Terry wants? Well, it has many different versions, and the version that I thought best described him was that he wanted me to take charge in the bedroom, find a lover or many lovers, and then tell him about my trysts or allow him to watch. If I had sex with Terry again it was up to me, and me alone.

That blew me away! So I was to control everything? I later learned that the correct term for what Terry wanted to be was a wittol. Generally speaking I would then be called a hot wife. Google also gave me many porn links. I wasn't ready for that! I did try one link and then all of a sudden my entire screen filled up with lots of windows that wouldn't go away! Yeah this internet thing is great! NOT! I pressed and held the laptop's power button and waited for it to shutdown. Stupid computers.

I think I drank more than I should have that night and I woke up the next day with a headache. The next two days were much the same. Food, alcohol, and research. By the end of the third day I had learned a fair bit. I felt I had a rudimentary understanding of what a cuck was, a wittol, a bull, dom and sub relationships, and female led relationships. The reading was enlightening. But not surprising. Especially about the power dynamic. When the decision about intimacy shifts fully to the woman, so does a number of other aspects. Related to life, home, and family.

I had been sending a text messages off to Terry every morning and late afternoon. It was like a just a simple "pulse" message. "Still here, still thinking". Just so that he knew I was still breathing.

At day five of putting it all together in my head I felt it was time to go home. I didn't need hide out here any more. I was ready for the conversation. I drove home that evening after cleaning up the apartment, throwing out the wasted food I had bought from the grocery store but didn't eat. Really who wants to cook when comfort food in the form of fantastic Chinese, Thai, and fish and chips where just an elevator ride and a walk across the street.

I arrived home and told Terry (after I hugged my beautiful babies) that we needed to have a serious talk.

That said, life is life and some things including all those mundane commitments still needed to get sorted. Especially after dropping everything onto Terry's lap for almost a week. Things were missed and some catching up was in order. I recall it was about a week before we were able to sit down and talk, which was good as it gave me time to make an appointment with a counsellor and do even more of my own research on his fantasy.

My first counsellor appointment happened pretty quickly. That consult went horribly. She immediately went down the direction of making sure I had all my legal contacts in place for a divorce!! This was not where I wanted to go, so I listened to what she said with a benign expression and the occasional nod. There wouldn't be a second appointment with this practitioner. I needed advice, not a defensive strategy. I then found another counsellor who specialised in sex counseling, fetishes, and non-traditional marriage issues. I wanted to understand and find a path, not lawyer up! I had my own mental well-being and that of our kids to think about.

The night for Terry's and my discussion came. I asked him flat if this was some plan for him to find a new partner and divorce me. Normally Terry is one of those guys that doesn't immediately react to anything. He processes. Like a chess player. I've never seen him so shocked. And that is his tell. Things of his heart he wears on his sleeve. It was then, finally, crystal clear in my mind that this was never his plan. I can tell when Terry is telling fibs, like when he told me how much he spent on one of his motorcycles and I immediately knew by the way he said it, where is eyes looked, that he had spent way WAY more! He really was focused on a fantasy, this fantasy, his fantasy. I told him to describe in detail how he saw me cheating on him would go and not end in resentment and disaster.

Terry started with his belief that he didn't see it as cheating. Since he would know about it, no one was going behind anyone's back. The rest of his explanation seemed to me to be a fiction that he read somewhere. So I asked him if he masturbated to this fantasy, if he imagined it was me having sex with another guy or just some other woman. He said that for years it was the only way he masturbated and always it was me with another guy. Years? YEARS! He then shocked me by telling me that when we had sex, he most often imagined that he was watching another guy make love to me. I was stunned.

When we were making love, I was focused on the man I loved. On him. Holding him. Knowing that our love making had made our beautiful babies. And he was imagining that he was watching someone else have sex with me while he watched!

I guess I was dumbfounded. When I regained my wits I asked if he had any favourite porn sites that he could show to me. He nodded, well 'duh' of course he did! At the end of our discussion we hugged. I felt like I still had my husband. What stunned me is that he had an erection. We made love that night and it seemed his focus was on my pleasure. I love receiving oral, and he really put in the effort there. But most importantly I still had my husband and this wasn't, as far as I could see, an elaborate plan to get rid of me.

It took nearly two weeks of evenings to go through his "library" of porn links, videos, and stories. I have to admit that some of them really turned me on. Mainly the ones where the wife is very dominant, takes control, and has a lover with a very large penis. Now it seems so stereotypical. But back then, and the way I was raised, ladies weren't supposed to be the head of the relationship nor like looking at big hard erections.

I started going to regular counselling sessions (and still do routine checkups). It was enlightening and empowering and armed me with a lot of information about sex positivity, but I'm not going to write about the sessions. That is all still too personal. The only thing I will say is that fantasies can be made real in many ways, without having to do the act itself. Can I take a dominant role in the bedroom and the relationship? Can I admire and flirt with other men with Terry there? Can I watch cuckold pornography with Terry and control his orgasms? Can I play in the bedroom with toys and make up stories about other men? Can I go to male strip shows and get private dances? All yes. And all of that doesn't require me to have sex with anyone other than my Husband.

For the following year we did all those things. I really started to appreciate what being a strong woman meant and the effect I could have on men. A touch of their arm, a smile, a lingering hug. It made me feel empowered, powerful, and sexy. The confidence both in public and in the bedroom I developed from that was wonderful. I do wish I could go back and tell 16 year-old me about this! I adopted a position where a woman's pleasure comes first, and for any woman if you happen to be reading this; only take away one thing. You must be the master of your own pleasure. Demand it. Ensure it comes to you. You don't need another person to have pleasure, but if they do - tell them how you want it! Otherwise they don't know. And ladies, if they can't handle you telling them - move on.

Regardless of what we did, watch porn or play in the bedroom, I made sure that Terry attended to me first, and sometimes only to me. Sometimes that meant Terry didn't get to orgasm and his occasional whimper added fuel to my fire. I was enjoying the control I also discovered that I was a visual person. I get it, not fully a normal thing for a woman in the way female minds work apparently. That means I am significantly aroused by visual queues. I like looking at sexy body parts on guys, or guys in sexual positions. The main two that always arouses me are seeing a man in a subordinate posture to a woman, such as being naked on his knees kissing her feet or pussy. The second way was that seeing a large fully erect penis really turned me on. I guess an erection is naturally erotic. Really, what else does one do with an erect penis? This is not to belittle or body shame any man that isn't born with the genetics for a huge appendage. They can still bring pleasure and be the tool for parenthood. However, I found that looking and thinking about a huge member far more arousing than seeing an average sized one, or a small one. This gave way to buying a growing collection of toys. Dildos and vibrators in all shapes and colours appeared in the 2nd drawer of my bedside table. All of them had the universal quality of being large. And they absolutely did it for me!

I decided to name them. Steve, Jason, Tyrone, Mark, Bob, Tom. Taking hints off a couple of the cuckold stories Terry liked to read, I would say "Honey, I'm going to go have a shower. Can you call Steve and ask him to come over and fuck me tonight? Have him wait in the bedroom for when I get out." or "Ohh Terry, Since Tyrone is so big can you help put him in me?", and one that I know pushed Terry's buttons "Terry, Mark is really stretching me tonight more than you have ever, can you see how he stretches me!"

To say the vagina is an amazing organ is an understatement. When I was younger I dated one guy who was hung, and sex with him hurt. I think that then was more about preparation and arousal since intimacy with him was fumbling in the dark under blankets. Guys, it isn't enough to be big. You need to also know what to do with it! Being able to take these large toys, sometimes with lube, surprised both of us. Especially since Terry would be nicely described as 'below average'.

I started going to strip shows about 6 months after Terry and I had our talk. Which, for the most part, were never full nude shows. Terry would want me to regale my evening. What I saw and did, did I touch them or even if they touched me. I had to embellish a lot, as strip revues for ladies are hardly ever hard core, and the bachelorettes take up the front row and are beyond boisterous and enthusiastic. I did see some great choreography though, and lovely fit men. On occasion I paid for a private show where they did get fully naked. I tried to get Terry to come along to one with me, but he declined. I think he already knew that the reality of the shows would burst his bubble. Or was worried about being seen. That said I really started to enjoy going to the strip shows. That enjoyment first took hold when I saw one dancer that was buff and looked a lot like the waiter, Henry, that we first fantasized about. That and the atmosphere on that night was fantastic. It wasn't full of the screaming brides-to-be. It was subdued. Sexy. I really did want Terry to experience what I saw even if in a small way.

At about 12 months since his reveal I decided to organise a date night for us. I booked a babysitter, restaurant, a hotel suite in the city, and a male stripper as a surprise. When I booked the stripper the lady asked if it was for a special occasion. I was almost honest. "My husband wants to watch me with a hung stripper, the fully nude XXX show". I didn't mention it was for me to also enjoy. I'm not sure why. I guess it's easier to lay blame at someone else's feet.