A Wife Steps Out . . . Maybe

There are times in your life when things profoundly change. Fundamental shifts in the nature of a relationship, a job, an passion, a hobby. I had one of those a few weeks ago and thought I would share it with you. I hope it gives some encouragement to anyone who's going through a long, dry spell in their relationship.

Joan and I have been married over 25 years. As you might guess, the sex was intense in the beginning but has cooled quite a bit since. It's a normal part of life and - as much as I hated it - it just made sense to accept it. There was the occasional burst of energy - a vacation to Paris had us racing to the sack every few hours - but overall, we were not very adventurous and neither one of us complained.

Until we saw the movie.

I'm not going to make a big deal of it, not going to tell you what the movie was, but suffice it to say there was wizardry and magic and women in long velvet dresses with tight corsets and exposed cleavage and men in chain mail with long, flowing hair and sweaty biceps and thighs swinging swords and performing feats that most of us couldn't do in our peak years.

We saw the movie in the spring, just as we were all watching the last of the snow melt and vanish and the greenery start to peek through again. It was a lark, neither of us are big fantasy fans, but there was nothing else on and everyone was talking about it, so we figured "what the hell?" We went home after and had a nice dinner, then off to bed. The next day we were back to our ordinary lives.

Now I'm not the most observant guy in the world, but you'd think I would have noticed something sooner than six weeks later. And what I did notice was trivial. A ring. A really wild looking ring.

It was one of those silver rings rings that run all the way from the base to the middle knuckle. The design was a long, elaborately intertwined set of silver ribbons. I'd seen those rings on girls in the coffee shops around campus a hundred times and thought nothing of it. Hell, I found toe rings more fascinating - something our generation associated with gypsies and harem girls in exotic countries. I didn't comment on it, but it stuck in my head.

For several days after that, my mind kept coming back to the ring. It was out of place, out of character. I started noticing other little things too.

We never really watched each other dress or undress anymore so I don't know how long it had been going on, but my wife's bra and panties always travelled in matched sets. I remembered this from our early days - we used to shop together for lacy things, frilly things, sexy things - but after five or six years it had changed to "whatever's clean". Now, I was seeing black bras with pink piping with matching panties or a powder blue camisole with matching boxers draped over the back of a chair. The latter turned me on immensely. Joan's not one of those women you see in Cosmo, she's got an average figure and large breasts - sized D or double D, I can never keep it straight. So the idea of a camisole essentially meant she was going braless.

I was at a complete loss about it. I found myself paying more attention to her body, watching her dry herself off after a shower or getting dressed in the morning while I lay in bed faking sleep. At night, when she was getting ready for bed, I'd sometimes come into the room with some flimsy excuse of looking for a book or my glasses. I'd catch a sideways glance of her sliding her panties off, hitching her thumbs in the waistband, sliding them down over her bottom and down her legs, my boner starting to get stiff. She has a very hairy bush and I remember running my fingers through it years ago when we were still spending lazy afternoons in the sack rather than running errands and "taking care of business" all day.

In the past, if she caught me staring, she'd either giggle and hide herself with her hands or snap at me and tell me to get the fuck out of the room. The last few times, though, she just turned her head and calmly went about her business. Something had changed. I watched her lean over and reach into a bottom drawer for one of her long nightgowns. I could have sworn that she wiggled her bottom but if she did, she didn't follow up with the coy smile you might expect. She just raised her arms and let the gown slide slowly down her body. There was something very erotic about watching that, the way the hem stopped across her chest and she had to pull it down, then stopped again at the arch of her bottom and she had to pull it down again. I was stiff by the time she was in her nightgown and chuckled to myself. Getting a boner watching my 50 year old wife put on her nightgown. Amazing.

That weekend, we went out to a play and came home, split a bottle of wine, and had a pleasant time in bed before going to sleep. I noticed something slightly different there too. Yes, she'd made me wait while she got naked and slid underneath the sheets, and yes, I had to turn the lights out, but once we got started - after some initial shoulder and back rubbing - we spent a lot more time kissing than I can remember in years. I straddled her as usual but rather than rushing through things, she reached her hand up around the back of my neck and pulled me down slowly. Her lips were puckered and her eyes closed. She pressed my mouth against hers gently and turned slightly to the left. Then, she opened her lips and I felt her tongue against mine. My boner stiffened right away. We haven't kissed for more than a few minutes before sex in a long, long time. She had both hands behind my head and was caressing my cheek, scratching behind my ears gently, tugging at my hair. I felt her moving underneath me, her legs opening, then her thigh sliding against mine, up and down just an inch or so.

I was completely lost in her mouth though, all of my focus was there. Feeling that tongue against my upper lip, then against mine, then my tongue in her mouth, I nearly came without even entering her. Her hair was scratching against my balls as she moved her hips up and down slowly, so slowly. I felt her hand between my legs and she guided me into her. She was soaking wet, something I hadn't felt in years either. I slid balls-deep into her with one single motion, my cockhead buried against her cervix, her legs now starting to move again. I felt her calves slide across the back of mine, she was interlocking our legs. It was like it was when we were dating, before we tied the know, back when it was all new. I barely moved my hips, she was doing all of the work. I felt her thighs opening and closing, the result inside her was a gently stroking motion that was driving me crazy. The horrible thought flashed through my head "where did she learn this?" but I kept my mouth shut and enjoyed the feelings flooding over me.

It didn't last. I came in less than five minutes, keeping quiet as I'd learned over the years, my body stiffening, back arching. She relaxed her legs and I slid out of her, dutifully reached for the vibrator in the nightstand.

"No, it's fine. I'm good," she said and got up and went into the bathroom.

I was stunned and lay there in bed, my prick laying limp against my leg, my mind racing. The new underwear, the ring, her legs around me. She was having an affair. This was too many changes to mean anything else.

I looked through the bathroom door and saw her, sitting on the pot, letting my cum drip out of her and into the bowl. The lines of her body had changed over the years but her breast were still beautiful and her skin smooth and flawless. I looked at her legs. A little plump but so long it didn't really show. My eyes ran up her arm and then up her neck. Proud and slim. She'd been keeping her hair cut shortish, not quite a pixie cut but certainly less than shoulder length. I loved it and had asked her for that for years. She'd changed over only recently.

She turned and watched me watching. She smiled and shook her head. I laughed and she laughed too. Then, she shut the door.

Over the next few weeks, I watched for signs of an affair. Nothing out of the ordinary happened with her schedule but I did notice that her clothes were changing slightly too. Things were more clingy. She had two new dresses and the torso of both of them could have passed for corsets. With her huge breasts, one of them made her look like the St. Pauli Girl. The other was just plain sexy. She was also spending more time in the bathroom in the morning. Even I noticed her makeup - a rare thing. She was looking more and more...I had a hard time finding the word. Not sexy. Not handsome. Refined somehow. Like someone who was really embracing their body, their femininity, their womanhood. Was something on television getting to her? Or was it another man?

One morning it all came to a head for me. She'd showered and dried off and was in the bathroom blow drying her hair. I watched her put on a low cut bra - a deep burgundy color that nearly made me cum just looking at it. The way it cupped and supported her huge breasts was too much for me. I took a deep breath and calmed myself down. She pulled on a pair of what I've since learned are called Tanga panties - matching burgundy color and all sheer lace. The kicker, though, was when I saw her reach for a matching garter belt.

Now, this may not sound revolutionary to anyone, but I could not get her to wear a garter belt for the three years we dated, on our wedding night, or at any time since. It was in the same category as threesomes, homemade porn, and anal sex. It just wasn't going to happen. Yet, here she was this morning as casual as ever, snapping it and turning it around, adjusting it in place just below her waist. She sat on the toilet and pulled on a pair of high topped burgundy nylon stockings with white lace around the top, hooking them expertly to the garter snaps. She turned toward the door and I closed my eyes, continued to feign sleep. I watched her go to the closet and take a new dress of the same color out of the closet. This one had a more pronounced corset, it even laced up the front. It was ankle length and looked like a velvet material. The sleeves were wrist-length and the collar high. My boner strained against my pajamas as I watched her zip then lace the outfit up. She put on three silver bracelets, two of the big rings, and large hoop earrings. I watched shocked as she pushed a small diamond stud into the side of her nose. She went into the bathroom and finished her makeup - deep purplish eyeshadow and lipstick, then shut the light and went downstairs. I stayed in bed until I heard the door close, then the car back out of the driveway.

I slowly slid out of bed, frustrated and lost. Who was she seeing?

I stewed at work all day, couldn't focus and didn't care. When I got home, she was dressed in a casual beige dress and flat shoes. The makeup was gone. But she was still wearing the rings and bracelets. We had a quiet dinner, watched some television, then went off to bed.

It went on like this for the rest of the week. The weekend was quiet, but on Monday, I vowed to get to the bottom of it. Nothing out of the ordinary happened on Monday or Tuesday, but on Wednesday, I heard her alarm go of early again. I watched her go through the same ritual as she had the other day. This time, the outfit was all white. The bra was cut lower and the top half of her nipples showed, the panties were practically a lace G string. The white stockings were fishnets and the dress was again ankle length and tight-corseted. She did something with powder to make her face look pale but then finished it off with an intensely blue eyeshadow and blood red lipstick. If the dress was black, it would look like a vampire costume.

This time, I got out of bed and followed her.

Her first stop was at the laundry to pick up dry cleaning. Her second stop was for coffee and a pastry. She spent fifteen minutes in the place but I didn't see her talk to anyone. The rest of the day - from seven a.m. till two in the afternoon - was a series of mundane errands. Then, she headed home. I parked down the block and watched the house but nobody came or went. I "came home" at five - about the usual time - and she was in the kitchen again, setting up dinner, dressed casually.

Joan came across the room and gave me a kiss on the cheek. "I thought we might go out tonight."

"Really?" I asked. "Where?"

"There's a good play downtown, we haven't been to a play in months." She walked back to the stove. I watched her walk, there was a sensuality and playfulness there I hadn't seen in a long time. She turned and stared at me.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I muttered.

"Oh, come on. You've got that look on your face. You're working on a puzzle and it's eating you up." She turned back to the stove. I watched her body move as she stirred the vegetables in the pan.

I wasn't sure what to say. Something was going on but I had no proof, no evidence. And, I'd followed her all day and not seen anything. She turned and looked at me again. This time, there was a seriousness to her face.

"Are you going to tell me?"

I just laughed. "Nothing's going on."

She turned off the stove and set the spoon in the pan. "I saw you following me today."

I stared and tilted my head slightly. "What?"

She walked toward me, slowly, exaggerating the movement of her hips. "I said, I saw you following me today." I stayed still, gathering my thoughts, trying to decide how to deal with this. She came closer, lowered her head, raised it again and looked me in the eyes. "What were you looking for, Steven?" She moved closer, put her left arm on my shoulder. "What did you think you were going to find?" I felt myself going weak. She reached around behind my neck and pulled me toward her. "Did you find out anything helpful?" She pressed her mouth against mine hard, opened her lips and kissed me. We kissed for a long time, her tongue finding every sensitive spot in and around my mouth. I was hard again, my balls aching in my pants, hands reaching for her bottom. I wanted her, I didn't care what she was up to.

"What did you think you were going to see, Steven?" she asked again. I felt her hand slide up my shift, felt her fingers touching my stiff nipple. My eyes were closed, my entire world focused on her touch. Her hand slid down my body and into my pants. She stroked me gently and whispered. "Do you think I've had someone else's thing in my hand, Steven?" she whispered in a husky, quiet voice. "Maybe in my mouth?" I felt my knees shaking as she stroked me. "Maybe up inside my..." she went silent. She never said the word but we both knew what she meant.

She pulled her mouth back from mine and unzipped my pants. In a quick move, she fished my stiff prick out of my pants and in another, pulled her dress up around her waist. I was inside her in a second, her pussy soaking wet again like the other night. I felt one of her legs sliding up the back of mine, she pulled me close and stared kissing me again. I came inside her quickly and she stepped back, dropping he dress and calmly zipping my pants back up. She leaned in close to me and whispered, "mmm... you're dripping down the inside of my leg..."

I stared at her. She smiled and touched her finger to my lips. "Go get changed. You can take me out to dinner."

Over dinner, she spilled the beans.

"I'd been wondering how long it would take you to notice!" she said, a wide smile on her face.

"Well, it wasn't something I expected. Give me a break here."

"I should be pissed at you."

"Why?"

"Your first thought was that I was fooling around? What made you go there?"

"What else was I supposed to think?"

She was quiet. Because I was right. How was I to know what was going on if she didn't tell me?

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

"So, OK, tell me how this all happened."

She smiled and told me. Something about the movie had taken hold of her. Brought her back to the world of her teenage fantasies. The stuff of romance novels. Of elfish kings and knights in shining armor and damsels in distress. She'd bought most of the jewelry and the clothes - she actually called them costumes but I don't want to insult them - from online sites that catered to the D&D types. The underwear was all Victoria's Secret - no surprise there.

But she was afraid to bring it up to me. A fifty-plus woman regressing (as she called it) to the world of castles and Unicorns? I'd laugh at her. Maybe she was right, maybe she was wrong. Maybe I would have. But anyway, it's all out on the table now.

We play the dressup games once a week. I'm afraid that if we do more than that, she'll burn out and I'll be back to vanilla sex twice a month.

On the other hand, the last two times we played the game, she dropped hints asking me if I had any unfulfilled fantasies in the back of my mind.

The next year could get interesting. We'll see.