tagLoving WivesThe Other Men In My Life Ch. 01

The Other Men In My Life Ch. 01


I couldn't believe my eyes as what I thought I saw was my whole world falling apart, or rather my marriage. Rhys and I had been married only eight months. I knew things had become tough with the extra work he had been forced to take on, and I accepted the extra stress as the main reason behind our bedroom problems, but not this. "NOT THIS!" I screamed at the filth on the monitor.

I can't fully remember how I came across the stuff as I shopped for a new outfit for our up and coming city break to London. With all the extra hours Rhys had been doing at the office we deserved this break, he definitely deserved it. We needed it, our marriage needed it.

As I opened one file, I was quickly led to another and another and another of my husband's dirty filth. Porn! All this time I worried about him, tried to relieve the stress. I tried romantic nights, massages, bubble baths, I dressed up for him, suggested role play, you name it I tried it, or so I thought. So it was here that I discovered how my loving, faithful husband relieved his stress.

I felt humiliated, rejected, and worthless even, as I scrolled through clip after clip of different women being fucked in all sorts of positions, often by more than one guy. All the clips appeared amateur, these women allowed themselves to be filmed and posted on the net for other men, my husband to satisfy his needs instead of using me, his wife.

Then there were the endless photos he had stored of "hot wives" and "shared slut wives." They appeared to be couples posting themselves or worse, husbands posting their wives with other men.

But just when I thought he couldn't hurt me anymore I discovered a blog. It was my husband's blog, and it was all about me. There were several photos of me from different occasions.

With my hand over my mouth I felt the tears sliding down my cheeks, I wanted to scream, go mad, but I couldn't. It felt as if a dagger had just been thrust into my heart.

I recognised two photographs from the holiday where Rhys had proposed to me. It was Cyprus and my twenty-fourth birthday. The one photo showed me in a low cut yellow dress; Rhys loved it due the deep valley of cleavage it showed. He had posted it along with another one of me in a white bikini. I remembered the bikini but I didn't remember this particular shot. The white fabric appeared see-thru, the close up shot clearly showed my nipples protruding through the wet bikini, and then there was my "camel toe" as one blogger called it.

Rhys, the man I trusted and loved more than anyone else in the world had been posting personal photos of me online for perverts to look at and comment on. I had been rated out of ten and commented on by hundreds of men. Although the comments had nothing but praise for me it still hurt deeper than anything. Next were photos of me in my wedding dress, another of me in my bridal lingerie. There were more bikini shots, this time from our honeymoon. By now I could see the bloggers were begging for nudity, as if Rhys had deliberately led them on. I hoped he hadn't, preyed he hadn't, that would be the ultimate betrayal.

He had! The bastard had done it. There on the next page were two pictures of me topless and another of me naked on our honeymoon bed.

Leaving the computer on, I walked into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of wine. I gulped it down before pouring another and lighting a cigarette. The cigarette seemed to calm me some as I tried to clear my head about what to do.

This was it I thought, eight months of marriage and out. My father warned me he was no good, said a thirty year old man had no business chasing after a twenty year old girl. But that's what he had done, and I fell for it, fell head over heels in love with him. Three and half years later we were engaged, eighteen months after that we were married and now at the age of twenty- seven I was facing a divorce.

That night he came home we had a blazing row. He accused me of over reacting which then led to several cups and plates being thrown in his direction. But once I cried out all my tears and stopped shouting we sat and drank wine. We still rowed and we both got angry but it was civilised and he began to explain the porn photographs and why he had done the blog. He explained the porn unintentionally led to the blog, and then guys begged for photos and he couldn't resist.

As I listened to him confessing his fantasies I felt some relief that it was fantasy and that at least he hadn't been cheating on me. But the blog, the photos, personal photos of me on the internet without my permission were hard to accept. I admit that I did become slightly aroused listening to some of the comments men had written about me, but still.

Some were saying how beautiful and sexy they thought I was. Most of the men gave detailed and graphic descriptions of what they wanted to do to me while Rhys watched. I think Rhys sensed my arousal as he poured more wine and described how he longed to watch another man, a stranger seduce me. He wanted more than anything, he said, to see another man touching me as I half heartedly fended him off. He went into great detail of how he became harder than ever imaging these strangers stripping me naked, groping my tits and fingering my pussy. He wanted to watch me as I succumbed to my seducer, sank to my knees and took the strangers cock into my mouth before he fucked me.

It was near impossible not to become aroused, but thankfully he couldn't see my erect, aching nipples or smell my soaking wet snatch as I fought hard to keep a stern and pissed off look on my face. And I was pissed off, what if one of those men knew me? Recognised me from the photos? Did he think about that?

Rhys admitted it had crossed his mind but he felt sure it wouldn't come to that. "You're an idiot!" I shouted at him. "More like your cock and sordid fantasies got the better of you!" I screamed.

"Look, Sophie," he started before pausing, "I fucked up. I have a problem ok, I admit it. Maybe I need help or something but the fact is I have never been more aroused than when I think about you with other men."

"But I'm your bloody wife, Rhys!" I scolded him. "You're supposed to love me and protect me not flaming share me with the world." I lit a cigarette and shook my head in disbelief.

"So where do we go from here?" He asked, sadly.

"I don't know," I shrugged, "I really don't know."

"I love you, Sophie," he said grabbing my hand, "I love you more now than on the day we wed. I'll get help; I'll do anything to fix this I promise."

I looked at my husband, and for the first time that evening I could see the regret in his eyes. He knew he had hurt me, disrespected me, and broken my trust.

This I guess was the first test of our marriage. I honestly did not know if we would survive it at this point.

Over the next few days and weeks the tension eased considerably between us. Rhys knew his addiction was not healthy, not only for our marriage but for him as a person. But I too realised that these fantasies would always be his fantasises in one form or another. As much as I wished I could, I knew he couldn't be re-programmed to think differently. I didn't want to sleep with other men for his needs, but I also knew that I had to find some way of letting this into our sex life.

I felt a little guilty with the next step I took, but if this was going to work then I felt I had no choice. Rhys had given me no choice. In secret, I signed up to a free swinger's website that I found after searching for information on the subject. I filled out the profile giving a false name and location but I decided, for no real reason, to describe my looks and personality exactly as they were, even putting my marital status as married.

On completing the profile I suddenly realised I had to upload a profile picture. Reading the rules it appeared the site was determined to weed out false profiles and time wasters. I had second thoughts as I only wanted to chat with couples and men who shared this fantasy with my husband. Then I remembered the photos of me that Rhys had uploaded on his blog, so I searched our photos and decided to upload the one of me in the yellow dress.

Once my profile was uploaded and fully active the messages were flying in faster than I could reply to them. Most were just stuff like:

"Hi, fancy a fuck?" And then leave me their mobile numbers.

I quickly deleted these as my profile description specifically stated that "I was married with a husband who wanted to share me with other men, looking for genuine couples and single men to speak with." I quickly realised this was going to be hard work.

In amongst the dumb messages I found some charming ones where the messenger displayed some intelligence and manners. I accepted those friend requests and replied to their messages. I fully explained my situation to a few people who appeared very genuine and sincere before one guy named Tommy, asked me to chat on MSN with him.

Tommy's profile and photos were nice and I thought he looked very sexy and handsome. He said he was single, twenty years older than me, making him forty-seven, and he didn't live too far away. He also confessed to sleeping with cheating wives and cuckold couples. He also had verifications on his profile page from other members who he had shared these experiences.

I looked through his "friends only" photos and I was impressed with his body, especially what with what lay between his legs, or rather what stood between his legs. He had ten years on my husband and he looked ten years younger and fitter.

Then I paused for a moment. I wasn't here for that, and to speak on MSN would mean giving him my e-mail address. Noting my long pause he sent me his e-mail address and explained that many profiles such as mine were really men posing as their wives. My stomach churned. Had Rhys done such a thing? Was I on some other site just like this one? I thought about that blog and became angry again.

Then I remembered, I needed to understand this and get my head around it, otherwise what future did Rhys and I have?

I replied to his email and requested to be his messenger friend. Talking through the swinger's site until we were up and running on MSN, I felt a sudden streak of excitement shoot straight up my spine as he told me to shut down the site as he wanted me all to himself on MSN.

We spoke a few sentences and I felt very flattered as he commented on my photos. I forgot about the photos I had on MSN. I only used it to speak to close friends; I had no strangers on there so I had no problem with them seeing those photos.

My MSN profile picture was of me on my wedding day and I had some others of Rhys and me. There weren't any inappropriate ones, but still, I just carelessly gave this sexy stranger some personal information.

After about an hour of logging onto the computer I finally got down to asking the question I came here for, and I had two hours before Rhys would get home from work.

"What is it about a man wanting to watch his wife getting intimate with another man? Why is this so arousing?" I asked.

"I'm on the other side of the fence; I'm the bull rather than the cuck. Don't know if I could share any future girlfriend or wife, but even the cucks can't explain it." He replied.

I explained what Rhys had done and I how I felt about it and he was very supportive and gave me some sound and cautious advice before jokingly, or at least I think it was a joke, offering to "help us out."

"Thanks, but I don't think I could do it." I replied, chuckling at the monitor.

"Don't think you could do it? So you have considered it then? Thinking you couldn't do something suggests that there is a possibility? He said.

I could just imagine his cheeky grin. "Call it a mistake in my vocabulary then. I meant to say I won't do it!" I replied with a kiss on the end to let him know I wasn't annoyed.

"Being serious, Sophie, I think it's a combination of jealousy and lust that matches no other. Or perhaps it is just the thrill of getting to see the woman he loves, the woman he married, getting satisfied by someone new and thrilling, a stranger perhaps?" He said.

I considered his words and after a while I logged off promising to remain friends with him. I had no plans to correspond with him regularly or even at all if I'm honest, but I remained polite as he had done with me.

Was I convinced that I had my answer? Not really. Rhys had sort of said the same thing as he struggled to explain it to me the other night. Maybe there was no real answer. No real explanation, only theories from the experts who study human sexual behaviour.

Whatever the answer, it was clear that my husband fantasised about sharing me with other men and it was not likely to change anytime soon.

So, after speaking to Tommy on MSN, Rhys and I headed to London for our planned break with an extra spring in our steps. Whilst swinging and cuckolding weren't on the agenda, having a good time certainly was.

We did speak more leading up to the trip as I didn't want it coming up and ruining the weekend. I accepted his fantasy and he accepted it would remain a fantasy.

The Friday we arrived in London we checked into our hotel, quickly got showered and then headed for the tube to see the sights. We had a lovely day and it felt like our honeymoon all over again as we cuddled and held hands around the city. That night we ate in the hotel and instead of going out Rhys suggested we order a bottle of champagne and make up for lost time. I smiled and readily agreed.

As we sipped the champagne and chatted I felt the warmth in Rhys return. I felt loved again. I knew he hadn't stopped loving me but I needed to feel it, feel it was still there burning fierce as ever.

We hadn't had sex since this had blown up, and we hadn't had much sex before either, so I felt very nervous. Rhys sensed my uneasiness and moved to settle me. He gently spun me round so my back was to him as he brushed my hair aside and gently kissed the back of my neck. I closed my eyes enjoying the moment as he tenderly moved to the sides of my neck. Moving my hands behind my back I reached for his belt and began to unbuckle him. With his pants finally undone I teasingly slid a hand inside his boxers and smiled as I felt his cock harden against my touch. It had been a long time since my touch wielded such powers and I suddenly felt wanted again.

Rhys whispered in my ear and nibbled my ear lobe as I freed his rock hard cock and began tugging on it. Taking the straps of my dress between his fingertips he gently and deliberately slid the thin black lace down my arms, not stopping until he had pulled it all the way down to reveal a matching black strapless bra. I gasped at his tenderness and felt the moisture leaking into my black lace panties.

Reaching for the sides of his pants I managed to shuffle them down over his waist, but no sooner had I heard them landing on the floor I felt his hands at the front of my chest, eagerly fumbling for the clasp between my firm breasts. As my bra joined his pants on the floor he roughly tugged my dress down my slender body before cupping and massaging my breasts, as if it were the first time he had ever touched them.

His hands were warm and soft and I watched them as I looked down at where he groped. I once again reached for his cock, stroking him gently, stopping occasionally to scrape a nail along his sensitive shaft. He shuddered before sliding one of his hands into my black panties. Another shuddering groan escaped his lips, this time as I cupped his balls, and he felt how wet I was, how soaking wet I was for him.

I turned to him and we kissed passionately, holding each other tightly. Rhys guided me towards the king-size bed and gently led me onto it before running his hands up and down my body. Every sensitive part he touched responded as if being charged electrically. Then my back arched as he unexpectedly grabbed my panties and yanked them off. His roughness forced me to lift my back and gasp as I felt the cool air of the room clash against the heat radiating from my wet, slick cunt. I was gagging by now and he knew it.

"Fuck me." I gasped. "Fuck me hard now, I need you inside me." I moaned.

Rhys slipped his hand between my legs and they fell open for him, letting him feel all around my inner thigh as he gently brushed past my soaking wet hole, without touching it at first. He then brushed past again and again, more forcefully each time, teasing my very sensitive clit with gentle rubs of a stray finger. He slid his fingers up and down my wet lips as he rubbed harder and harder on my clitoris.

"Fuck!" I screamed, "Just slide your finger in, stop ... ohhh fuck ... stop teasing me." I pleaded.

"Just think, honey," he started to say.

"Yes?" I replied waiting for what he was going to say.

"I want you to imagine that I'm not your husband, I want you to picture another man. Ok?"

"Yes ... ok." I grunted. I hadn't really grasped what he was saying I just wanted to agree with him and get fucked.

"I'm sat in the corner ok, baby. I'm looking out for you as this stranger strokes your pussy. Is he good? Does he stroke your pussy the way you like?" He asked softly.

"Mmmmm ... oh fuck yeah ... mmm oh fuck me, Rhys just fuck me." I pleaded once more.

"I'm not Rhys!" He spat without slowing his hand movements. "I'm not your hubby, slut! I'm the guy you teased at the bar, remember?" He said, in a demanding tone."

"Yes! Fucking yes! Now please fuck me!" I screamed at him.

He leant in to kiss my breasts and whispered softly. "Seriously, Sophie, I want you to picture whoever you want, don't tell me who he is if you don't want to but picture him. Can you do that for me, Sophie?"

"Yes, I will."

"There's a good wife," he said still sucking on my nipple, "who is the guy you imagine with his fingers all over your pussy as you beg him to enter you ... hey ... who is it that's making you wet, Sophie?"

"That waiter ... the one at the restaurant." I confessed truthfully.

"Yes he liked looking down your top didn't he? His name was Angelo. Tell him, Sophie, tell Angelo what you need while your husband sits in the corner wanking his cock, watching his slut wife."

It was too much. I was about to cum and he knew it. "Fuck me Angelooooooo! ...ohhh ... fuck ... yes I'm coming." I wailed and screeched as he rammed two fingers hard up inside me. As the name Angelo slipped from my lips I felt two fingers roughly enter my swollen pussy, making me cum hard as they scraped, dug and rubbed the roof of my vagina.

Rhys gave me no chance to recover as he very quickly positioned the tip of his cock against my pulsating pussy and rubbed forcefully up and down the lips, coating his cock head with my fresh pussy juice.

"Yes, look at you bitch all open and displayed for another man, a stranger you just met. You want my cum, slut? You want Angelo's hard cock inside your married cunt, fucking you hard as your hubby watches. Tell me, slut, tell me how much you want Angelo's cock."

"Fuck ... me ... ohhh you bastard." I grinned and moaned as he slid his solid cock all the way inside me.

I was too wet for him to fully fill me up and make me scream so I rubbed my clit as usual and bucked against him as he fucked me for all he was worth. I told him what he wanted to hear, screaming Angelo as I reached my climax and for a moment I did picture him as I remembered his cute eyes peering down my dress as he served us wine. I could picture him now, peeling off my dress, forcing me to suck his cock before he finally enters me.

That night we fucked again in the shower and again in the bed. Never had we had sex more than once in a night. But every time I got sopping wet, Rhys would bring his fantasy into it. I didn't mind as it got him harder and hornier than ever, I see he wasn't lying after all. The following morning I was too sore to fuck again, but as Rhys sided up to me with his cock hard and eager I offered to suck him off instead.

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