tagLoving WivesHow She Succumbed

How She Succumbed


This story is largely true. Just the names have been changed, because I have a great regard for both of the personalities involved and do not wish for them to be identified.

I write of these events in a different tone to many others who embrace the same fetish as me, i.e., that of wishing to physically share their loved one with someone else. This is because I differ from many others. For me, my wife has never been a 'slut', because where I come from, that word is pejorative and more adequately describes what we in the UK refer to as a Tart - that is, someone who is so loose in her choices that she will screw just about anybody for the sake of a fuck.

In my view, the word slut falsely describes the object of one's love or deep regard who has learnt to enjoy the exquisite pleasure of being able to indulge the attentions of another man in private, with her husband's willing consent and participation. I shall say no more at this stage, because I think my own approach to such matters is better gleaned through the unfolding of my somewhat long but hopefully readable story.

Finally, I direct a couple of remarks to that sad few who so readily submit their written castigation of various writers' efforts under the highly un-original name of 'Anonymous'.

Literotica is obviously a site for those who enjoy writing or reading about sex or romance in all its various forms. We are none of us exactly the same and what for one man may be a 'slut', may to another man be a dearly loved wife (who just happens to be open to other ideas!). Similarly, and be they male or female, one person may embrace the joys of bi-sexuality, whilst another may eschew the very thought of any physical contact with their own sex – and so on.

Therefore, unless the few 'Anonymouses' are to be considered
inadequate 'Anonymouses', may I suggest that they either retain their negative thoughts to themselves; or alternatively, identify another site more suited to their own particular choices. A great deal of work goes into writing free stories for others and the effort is therefore deserving of either appreciation, or constructive criticism. It should not be subjected to witless denigration by people who seemingly lack the bravery to expose their bigoted offerings to criticism by identifying themselves.

My demure and beautiful wife comes from a fairly wealthy County family in southern England; and by all standards, she is fairly well bred - a true product of the English public school system and one who has always been able to mix in so called polite society. It's not that she herself is stand-offish or anything. Indeed, far from it; for she will always readily mix and be completely accepted in any company; but she seems to appear somewhat conservative to the outsider and does have that certain untouchable look, which often proves an irresistible challenge to people like me. Other men always seem to find her attractive; and I suspect that some of them would probably like to strip and seduce her, purely for the perverse thrill of doing someone who looks, acts and is so much the upper class girl.

Her unusually pretty face is unblemished by anything other than a very attractive mole high on one cheek and her full mouth looks as if was just made for sucking. She's not particularly tall but she has long auburn hair that makes her look taller.

As part of her defence system I suppose, she has always been rather reserved about letting people get too close to her and as a result, perhaps emanates the wrong aura to those who do not know her well. Her wide innocent eyes have a way of looking sexily upwards at one through arched eyebrows - the kind of look that makes the average man go weak in the crotch and want to immediately rip her clothes off. I know this, because that's the way I felt the first time I met her and since then, I've noticed far too many other men (and a few women!) react in the same way. Yet she truly still has no idea of the effect she is having.

She has a slender but pleasantly comfortable body, from which swell two lovely 36 inch breasts that stand out stark white from the remainder of her residual tan. Slightly low when at rest, but likely to quiver deliciously with the slightest movement, her tits end in dark puffy areola and flat-tipped nipples that pucker into sensuous hard stalks of eroticism which protrude a good third of an inch when she's either cold or aroused. Her tummy could perhaps be a little flatter; but in my opinion, this mild imperfection serves only to highlight the rest of her sexy nakedness, particularly since it promises beautiful things below her panty line, where prying fingers will eventually discover a softly flattened bed of light brown pubic hair through which can be felt generous pussy lips perpetually that stand out as if in readiness.

I had hitherto always believed that after a couple or so years in any relationship, the initial frenetic sex that comes with discovering and exploring a new body often gradually slows down through familiarity; and I suspect it's about then that most couples find themselves beginning to indulge the odd fantasy about others.

Notwithstanding, I personally was still deeply in love with my wife some years after we got together and had always resisted the thought of anyone else catching even the smallest sight of her intimacies, except perhaps on a beach when everyone else was in the same state of bikini clad semi-nudity. With such an attitude therefore, it really should have been unthinkable that circumstances should eventually arise which led to me discovering, and developing, a particularly compelling fantasy.

But circumstances did eventually occur and from that time onwards I found myself gradually realising that I wanted to see a friend of mine manage to have his way with my gorgeous wife. Yet I didn't want him to try it on unless she also was sufficiently stimulated by the thought of being seduced by him - not just talking about it with me as part of our fantasy love play; but keen herself to allow its happening.

As a further consideration, the guy in question had mentioned to me more than once that he had always been easily discouraged from further pursuit of any woman who rebutted his initial advances. For whatever reason, he was obviously somewhat timid in this regard and I was therefore also very concerned that his somewhat fragile ego might be severely damaged if he did eventually psyche himself up to making an advance towards my wife who, without realising the vulnerable side of his personality, might rebut his approaches out of hand.

Furthermore, I didn't want either of them to know that I entertained any possibility of his seducing her. Although I thought I might enjoy the opportunity to witness any event first hand (preferably without either of them knowing of my presence), I felt that any liaison should appear accidental.

Despite the risk I knew it might entail, the fascination grew from their first meeting and I found the fantasy provoked an immediate erection whenever it came to mind. Yet the usual fears and apprehensions discouraged me from allowing the fantasy to be tested for some time.

The worry of course, was that she might enjoy it so much that our relationship would fall by the wayside. Ironically, I discovered that the overall thrill was perversely heightened by this very concern and I thus discovered that my fantasy was composed of an irresistible combination of worried reserve, possible jealousy and unbelievable arousal. When playing about with my wife, I would often come heavily at the thought of her squirming in pleasure, completely impaled and helpless to stop him doing whatever he wanted. Yet early inhibitions decreed that I should try to suppress such thoughts - what a poor bastard I was and what I could have missed if I hadn't overcome them!

Like most women, Maggie occasionally appraises the potential of other men and her interest is no less of a joke between us than when I openly comment on the physical desirability of other attractive women.

All quite natural really; and although even then I loved Maggie to bits, I was still immature enough to think it was all right for me to succumb more than once to the thrill of an illicit liaison outside our relationship. I had however, always been exceptionally careful to ensure that Maggie had been protected from any affair and that none other than the girl and I ever knew of it. Conversely, it appeared that nobody else had so far aroused the similar necessary degree of lust in Maggie - or if they had, it was never to the extent where she would want to do anything about it, or I should have known.

So, all I shall write about only came to be after she had met Phil for the first time and the first realisation of my fantasy began to dawn.

They were introduced to each other not long before Maggie and I got married, after living together for the previous three years. It was at the end of the first week when he came to work with our company and we were all having supper in our local pub. Maggie was 26 and I was 32.

After I had introduced them, I noticed a look on her face as she glanced at him across the bar with an all too familiar half-smile that I knew from experience indicated interest.

Phil and I had met some time before he started working with us and each recognising a drinker in the other, we had already spent some time together in various pubs. As most men will, he and I had occasionally discussed sex when we'd had a few too many; but unless he had drunk quite a lot, he was usually quite reticent about opening up. During one of our conversations however, he had mentioned how shy he really was and that he probably drank too much in trying to overcome it. He had gradually elaborated and it was then that he explained how his problem extended to often being wary of making advances to women, in case they said 'No'. This, he said, was because any rebuttal threw him completely off his track and he never quite knew what to do or say next without looking silly. I had found the open honesty of his approach rather endearing and indeed, that very honesty was the foundation of a friendship and trust that lasts to this day.

Maggie had been seated next to Phil at the subsequent supper that evening. As she sat down, she reached her arms back to pull the chair in and her breasts had forced open two buttons at the front of her white cheesecloth shirt. I had looked over to see if she was settled comfortably and noticed Phil on the other side of her, his eyes staring intently at the deep cleavage caused by what I knew to be an uplifting and very small black bra'. I noticed that her earlier movement had also left one of her nipples half exposed. He was therefore able to gaze at the greater part of her breasts for some time and had already begun to surreptitiously run the tips of his fingers over what looked like quite a large length between his legs, before she fully realised what had happened.

When she saw how much of her body she was exposing to him, she quickly fastened the buttons and on looking up at him to apologise, their eyes had met. To my surprise, they had locked on to each other for a good few seconds before eventually they looked away, both of them slightly blushing.

For reasons I did not quite understand at the time, I felt a frisson of sexual excitement and realised that my own cock had hardened sufficiently to force me into making adjustments in order to get comfortable in my seat.

Later that night, she and I found ourselves discussing Phil and his new job; and during our conversation she asked occasional questions about him - but would look away whenever her questioning got too obvious. Eventually, I laughingly posed a question myself, which made her colour up immediately,

'You fancy Phil or something darling? You certainly ask enough questions about him'

My query was almost rhetorical but quite a silence followed before eventually a lock of hair fell over her eyes and looking upwards through it, she drawled,

'No ...... not really .... what on earth makes you think that?'

There was a slight hesitation before she went on, 'Well ..... at least, I don't think I do'.

After that partial admission, she thought for a minute or so more and I forbore to make any response because I found myself trembling with sudden excited anticipation. There was thus an uneasy silence before she continued,

'Then again, what if I did? It's not a crime to window shop is it darling?' and then as an afterthought, '..... or do you mind?' The question came out slowly, almost as a challenge.

'No, of course I don't my love'.

I could think of nothing else to say and my response was somewhat nervous, as if I was over-reacting and expected her to say that she loved him and we were all over. As if she hadn't heard me, she went on,

I mean, I like window shopping ... same as you do. There's no harm in it'.

'Ah yes,' I responded sensibly at last, if a little shakily,

'But looking's one thing .... and I reckon it's a bit more than that my old lovely. Whether you know it or not, you're showing far too much interest for simple window shopping'.

There was a sudden air of anticipation between us and a further silence ensued while she deliberated. Then flushing bright red and looking straight into my face, she took an unexpectedly direct line,

'He's quite good looking isn't he darling. But then again, I suppose looks aren't everything, are they?'

Then she tried to sound flippant and off-hand with the follow-up question - as if it was an everyday query. But she really didn't succeed,

'Has he got a big prick?'

I was completely taken aback by her lewd directness and more than a little surprised to experience a sudden thrill, which passed swiftly once I offered a throw-away reactive answer that came out perhaps a little more sharply than I had intended,

'How the fuck should I know darling, I've never seen it'.

Although I'd not actually seen his cock at the time, I had noticed its outline growing very fast in his trousers when he'd accidentally seen most of her tits earlier that evening; and I suspected it was pretty much larger than average. But I wasn't about to tell her that.

Later that night, while talking in bed with the light off, our conversation gradually turned once more to Phil - but this time her sleepy questioning was restricted to vague enquiries about his job and whether I thought he'd turn out well and be an asset to the firm.

At the time I didn't understand why I felt so comfortable talking about another guy like that with my wife but I couldn't help noticing an air of sexual anticipation creeping in yet again as she reached down absent-mindedly to play with me.

I was intrigued to see how far she'd go with this new-found interest and teased her,

'I don't reckon you want to know so much about his performance at work my darling, as the performance and size of his dick! You really are quite a naughty little girl aren't you?'

'No, not at all' she responded a little too quickly, squeezing my cock quite hard; but then admitted as an afterthought,

'Although, thinking about it ..... er .... yeah ..... it is quite a nice thought I suppose.' Another brief silence while she gauged my reaction and then,

'Well darling, what is it like? You must have seen it by now . ... you know, in the loo, or something'.

'Absolutely not my old lovely.' Sorry to disappoint you; but as I said before, I can't help. I've never seen it and it's not really my scene to go around looking at other blokes' gear in the loo. Not quite the done thing ...... but I'll enquire if you like. Perhaps you'd like me to ask him 'Please Phil, can Maggie have a photo of your cock? She wants to know how big it is'. How would that do?'

She realised I was teasing and that I was only likely to get worse. The subject was therefore abandoned for the while.

Then a number of weeks later, just before we got married, someone told her about the hooker at my stag night. It seemed Maggie had heard exactly what the girl had done with Phil in front of all the lads. My normally shy little lady unashamedly asked me if it was true what she'd been told. I asked her what she meant and the response was direct,

'You know darling .... that he's got a big one and seems to know how to use it?'

For a few seconds there was silence, during which even she looked marginally abashed at the tone of her remark. Then she backed down a little,

'Well, er .... you know. Er .... well there must be some truth in it all darling because .... well, I did actually wonder why he'd been christened Superstud!'

The truth was that I'd been far too drunk to remember much about the evening at all. I had a vague recollection that the girl had screwed Phil in the middle of the bar floor and that he'd somehow kept going for some appreciable time. Apparently (as I discovered later), this was much to the joint envy of about 38 other blokes and seemingly to one a lot more drunk than the rest - me!

Maggie continued to dig away until eventually out of wickedness I made up a story and told her that I'd been holding out on her and that yes, I had actually seen it. Yes, it was the most super cock ever, it was bloody big and she'd love it too. She was fairly certain I was fooling about but obviously wasn't absolutely sure. Yet she appeared sufficiently interested that she wanted to believe what I had just said.

'God darling, really? Is it honestly that big?'

But my imagination was at an end on the particular topic of Phil's unknown penile type and dimensions; and I refused to answer any more of her questions.

Yet the seeds of fantasy had now been sown in my mind and I found them exciting.

Looking back a few years later, I can understand why I eventually came to be so excited at first the fantasy, and then the event, of sharing her with Phil. Yet at the time, it was with exciting wonderment that I slowly discovered this other side to my sexuality.

I had often read about men who love their wives to screw with others - both individual and multiple partners; both black and white; both in public and in private. Some like to use the web to meet strangers with whom they can share their pleasure, whilst others seek out strangers in bars, cinemas, theatres and restaurants. Some love the submission of the true cuckold, whilst others lean towards screwing with their relatives or neighbours.

I have no complaint with any of this and there's a great deal of genuine excitement involved for those who indulge these various 'kinks'; but it's not the way I personally have found most excitement.

Not for me is the 'Wham-bang-thank-you-Ma'am' approach which suits some people; or indeed, the impersonality of their wives having sex with various strangers - which is favoured by so many.

I have always preferred another route when philandering on my own account - that slow and delightful thrill of playing the oldest game in the world, which offers an indescribably erotic excitement in the pleasure of the chase. An eye contact at first, which is favourably received in a returned glance which hovers for just a second or two longer than it should - and in so doing, indicates the dawning of an interest that demands development.

I always find it strange that however much we may love or be turned on by our girl friends, wives or lovers, there will always be someone, somewhere, who can excite a new interest - that thrilling extra-curricular interest which feels all the more enticing for its very illicitness.

When we submit to the temptation, a more than usually strong chemistry develops and unless one or other is strong-willed enough to be 'sensible' by resisting it, matters will inevitably and excitingly progress. Since the beginning of my relationship with Maggie, I had experienced it more than once with other women. The ball starts rolling with the odd look or enticing body language and the game is on; for if the girl responds, a thrill like no other begins to take over.

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byPetersimpson© 14 comments/ 189781 views/ 20 favorites

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