Wear the Same Dress

Why is sex the only thing you can't share? You can share stories, share favorite books, lawnmowers, sports jackets, cars you drive, favorite meals, jewelry, or even ideas. Why not wives? Some cultures do. Many do, in fact. A man in many parts of the world may share his bride with a houseguest, as a courtesy, a gesture of good manners. Why not here? It made no sense.

I've had this desire to share my wife with friends for years, and I told her one night after sex, but she got annoyed, indignant, offended, even hurt. "But I love you so much I want others to appreciate you," I said, not going into detail about my obvious cuckold orientation.

"I am not a whore," she protested.

"I am not proposing we charge a fee," I said with a awkward smile, trying for humor. "Just that you would fuck my friends. It would be like a common courtesy," I argued, repeating what I had thought before. "You would show them a good time, like you do when you cook a fine meal and have friends over, or offer to help them move, or loan them money, and we share something with them." But she didn't see the parallels. She was so pissed off that she didn't speak to me for a week, so outraged and insulted by my proposal, but finally she started to soften and she even brought up the subject a few days later. Clearly, she had been thinking about it a lot. I had planted the seed, and it had begun to germinate.

"I guess it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world," she said one night about two weeks after I had suggested that we share her sexual talents with friends. I found out later she had been thinking about it every night after I brought up the idea she entertain some other guys. She even confessed she had masturbated to the idea, imagining in her head what it would be like. It seems I had hit a weak spot and, in fact, she had thought about doing just what I had suggested even before I mentioned it, but it had been in the privacy of her sexual fantasies and my bringing it to the surface had threatened her, brought her secret desires up and even created the possibly of exposing them. When I finally got her to talk about it, she admitted that she had thought about it before.

It was simply the most liberating night of our marriage, maybe of my life, the evening I got her to acknowledge her sexual fantasies and desires. It seemed to liberate her, to make her happy she finally felt comfortable enough to share them with me. She explained she had started in college, thinking about sex with strangers. Then after we began seeing one another, she said she even thought of some of my friends, though she wouldn't tell me just who.

"Ever think about other things," I asked, "like sex with women?"

"Oh, god. I couldn't even be around Celeste," she confessed with a revealing smile, "without getting wet panties." She told me about fantasies she'd had about her roommates in college, about pleasuring herself to images of her friends while she was in bed, under the covers, telling me things that she never would have before admitting she may be open to being shared. It was remarkable how different she had become after I had asked her about the possibility of my offering her to other men.

Clearly the idea now interested her. She was like a new person. Her face was flush as we talked and her smile showed she was visibly turned on by the subject of fucking others. Her voice was also huskier and her breathing was elevated. My demur little wife was now unquestionably considering my proposal of sex with other people.

"So you may agree to let yourself be shared?" I finally asked, trying to be sure where she was going with it.

"Well, I am not sure, but it is not impossible," she said softly, grinning, looking more interested than not. Her smile and tone of voice saying clearly she might not be totally against it. "I am not a frigid female," she said. "There is some fire in the stove still. All someone has to do is blow on the coals," she said with a chuckle. "My bisexual fantasies seem to interest you. Am I right?"

I put my arms around her and pulled her close, pulling her pelvis against mine. "I love them," I said.

"You would share me with another woman?" she asked.

"Undoubtedly," I said.

"I hope that means yes."

"That means in a New York minute," I replied. "It means it would be the World Series, the Olympics, and the Super Bowl. It would be The Greatest Show on Earth, my dear. You offering?"

Her smile told me she was sincerely thinking about it. Her cheeks got red and her neck flushed, all the things that happened to her when she was in full rut seemed to come to the surface all at the same time. She was a sexual tigress and all at once remembering things she had done, exciting things, lustful things, uninhibited things that she wanted to do again.

I kissed her and we made love. It was the most exciting sex we'd ever had, and she cried out, orgasm after orgasm, each one exploding from her like a geyser, tightening her body like a spoke, creating groans in her throat and rolling from deep in her, causing her breathing to come in waves.

"Wow," she said when the last one subsided. "That was fantastic. Is that what it's going to be like?" she asked as we cuddled. I kissed her and said it might. "Well, what did I wait so long for?" she asked.

"Tell me about the best sex you've ever had," I said. She looked at me strangely, as if she could hardly believe what I had asked. "Really," I said. "What is the best you have ever had? In college, high school, what? Did he have a big dick, or was it with a woman? Tell me how many guys have fucked you? Have you ever let two guys fuck you at the same time?"

She studied my face, but she didn't answer. "Let me do you with my tongue and while I do you tell me about your best," I said. I got in position, opened her legs, and put my lips against her pussy.

"I once fucked a man I had just met that night," she said, her eyes closed and her head against the pillow, facing the ceiling.

"Did he have a big cock?" I asked as I licked and sucked on her pink and puffy lips.

"Pretty big," she said, her eyes still closed.

"So you liked it?"

"Yes."

"What did he do?" I asked.

"He fucked me from behind, while I stood at the sink in his apartment, holding my dress up in back, my panties around my ankles. I came at the sink and he kept fucking me. I could barely stand but he kept fucking me and saying he knew I liked his dick. I did and I kept telling him so."

"Do you remember his name?" I asked.

"Marcos," she said. "I was only with him that one night, but I will never forget it. He was from Aruba, and he was as black as night." I asked if she'd ever had other black men and she said a few. "I prefer them," she said.

"Do you ever masturbate to thoughts of Marcos, or other brothers?"

"Yes," she said breathlessly. "Oh yes. A lot."

"Would you ever like to be fucked again by Marcos, standing at his sink, your dress up in back, your legs spread, and his big, black dick pushing into you from behind?"

"God yes," she said, pulling her knees up and approaching her orgasm, pushing her sex toward my tongue.

"Think of him now," I said.

"I am," she replied, breathlessly.

"Can you feel him fucking you?"

"Yes."

I pushed a finger into her. She bucked against my finger. "See him fucking you," I said. "See that big black cock."

"Yes," she said.

"Do you like him fucking you at the sink?"

"Oh yes," she replied at the verge of her orgasm, her face contorted as she squeezed her eyes closed. Her body tensed and her fists clenched. "Oh, yes, I am coming," she shouted. When her climax came it exploded with a rush and she squeezed my head between her thighs.

When she finally relaxed I held her and kissed her on her clitoris. It twitched and she shuttered, then pulled her knees all the way up and put her hands on top of my head. "You want to fuck Marcos again?" I asked.

"Okay," she replied quickly, her hands still on my head, her eyes closed. I waited for her to come down, and then I kissed her on the inside of each thigh, licking each inner thigh. The skin there was soft and white and sensitive.

"That is a very sexy image, you standing at the sink with your dress up in back with a black man fucking you from behind," I said.

"It was sexy standing there with my legs apart and me bent over the sink," she said with a sigh. "Taking him from behind was fantastic, amazing, totally sensual, and incredibly sexy. His cock filled me so completely. I have never been fucked standing up before or since. I get horny just thinking about that night," my wife added, remembering her sex in the kitchen with an eagerness that pleased me.

When I proposed that she fuck him and she agreed so quickly, it made my heart jump. I immediately pictured her again standing facing the sink with him behind her, her dress up and his cock going in and out of her pussy. The mental image made me smile and my heart beat faster. I wondered if she would let me watch, to fuck her black lover for my pleasure.

The idea of sharing her with another man sent me into orbit and I began to plan how I was going to make it happen, just how I was going to see to it she got the opportunity once again to feel Marcos's dick inside her. I decided to get his number, to call him directly and to put it to him that I wanted him to once again fuck my white wife.

I didn't see how he could refuse. She is one hot mama, and I knew any man would jump at the chance to put his dick in her. I was right, when I told him what I wanted he laughed and said, "Damn right, my man. Anytime, anywhere, any bed."

"I was hoping you would fuck her at the sink, like last time," I said.

"Yeah, any sink, my friend," he said with his smile obvious even over the phone. I told him to be at our house at seven, and she would be there waiting for him. When I told her he was coming, her excitement was easy to see.

I said I wanted to see him fuck her at the sink like he did before and she nodded as she listened.

"And you want to see him fuck me in the kitchen?" she asked enthusiastically. "Like he did before?"

"Just like that," I said. "I want you to wear the same dress, stand just like you did, and I want to see him fuck you from behind. You'd do that for me?" I asked. She smiled and nodded, then she kissed me.

"If that is what you want," she said with a sly smile.

When Marcos arrived it was clear there were sparks between them and he remembered fucking her at his sink. Her cheeks were red and her neck was flush and it was unmistakeable that she was remembering her time in his kitchen. He kissed her at the door and he put his big arm around her waist, like he was showing assertiveness and power over her, like an alpha male staking out his territory. As an obvious cuckold I was happy with that and followed them right away into the kitchen.

I took a seat at the kitchen table and watched them kiss at the sink. Without much hesitation, he turned her around, lifted her dress, pulled down her panties with one hand and positioned himself at her pussy with the other. She bent over the sink, offering him her splayed sex and sighed as he slid in. She put her head on the counter, laying her cheek on her crossed arms, then pushed against him as he thrust into her. His black skin contrasted amazingly against her pale white flesh.

It took about five minutes for her to reach her orgasm, and she began calling out as he fucked her with rapid strokes, his pants around his ankles, his hips moving incredibly fast. "Fuck her good, my friend," I said as he continued to pound into her as she came. When her climax was over, and her pussy was not as sensitive, Marcos knelt behind her, lowered to his knees, and began eating her freshly-fucked pussy as she stayed at the sink.

The entire episode took less than thirty minutes, and he kissed her at the door and left, saying anytime she wanted a black dick he was available.

I told her when he drove off it was the Greatest Show On Earth, and she smiled and kissed me her thanks. "You are easy to please," she said. "A girl is lucky to have a husband who wants to watch his wife getting fucked in the kitchen," she added with a laugh.

"Anytime, baby. Anytime," I said, squeezing her bottom, feeling the wetness of her being recently fucked through her dress. A black cock in the kitchen once a month keeps the marriage counsellor away.