My Cheating Wife

by Jaime Thorne

  “I don't know how to say it exactly but when he got it there was this sort of click in him, like he knew just what it was that we were looking for. That he knew it better even than we did.

  “Because he shifted Jeremy. He became something different for us in that moment.

  “Rogers has always been a handsome guy, mid-twenties and good body. Obviously goes to the gym and works out and all of that. Six pack and big arms and everything that you expect from someone, everything that Emily wants in her fantasy man.

  “But he'd never been powerful. Physically big yes but not imposing. No... imposing is the wrong word.”

  “In charge,” I had filled in the blanks for him, “In command.”

  Jacob had snapped his fingers and pointed at me, “Yes exactly. In charge. In command. In control.”

  Jacob had shifted then, twitching a bit in that way he does when he's craving a smoke. The man officially quit a decade ago but snuck at least a few every week when he was either stressed or felt like celebrating something.

  “He took control, grabbing Emily and just fucking taking her. She had this look on her face at first that was almost fear but it quickly just became fucking subservience. Emily is a strong woman, strong-willed, but she gave in to him and within the first few minutes he was just growling orders and she was obeying them.

  “Doing everything that he wanted. And I was just watching it happen, this sort of feeling of shock and awe washing over me. I just sat there the whole time and watched them.”

  He shook his head closing his eyes slowly and taking a deep and satisfying breath as the memories washed over him before turning to me.

  “I can't explain it, buddy,” he had said to me, “I know it's weird but there was something about it. Like it was a drug. Like it was beyond sex to a different whole level.”

  He exhaled slowly after that and I realized that I didn't know how long I'd been holding my breath, “You must think I'm fucking crazy.”

  I didn't. I couldn't.

  That night that he'd told me at the anniversary hadn't been the first time that I'd heard of cuckolding or hotwifing or any of those things. They'd been a part of my fantasy life for so long that I couldn't even remember a time without them.

  It was difficult to confess to it, and I hadn't even told anyone about this including Jacob or my wife, but all the same it was what my body desired and craved. I needed this, with a furious passion that made it nearly impossible to give up. I needed to experience this and see it however I possibly could.

  I'd tried to deny myself. God knows that I'd tried to deny myself.

  Everything existed in a fantasy world of videos and stories and audio for me, a password protected collection hidden deep in the folder system of my computer. All of it archived and sorted for perusing at my own leisure.

  I'd deleted those folders so many times. Cleared everything out and tried to go cold turkey only to have myself fall apart and fall back into old habits probably within twenty-four hours.

  I think the longest I'd ever lasted had been maybe two weeks while I was on vacation with my wife right beside me the whole time, and even that had been excruciating.

  So yes Jacob I understood your fascination. I understood the fixation that you had with this fantasy and the way that it grew inside of you look a demon gaining strength. I knew how you were constantly torn between the humiliation of what you wanted and what you knew that you should want.

  I knew it only all too well.

  Until that night though it had always existed in fantasy alone for me. I had denied myself any real attachment to it for so long that I couldn't even begin to dream of it crossing over into reality.

  Avril would never see eye to eye on this. She would never understand it. She wasn't that sort of woman.

  She was delicate and pure, so guarded away from the reality of the world. Avril approached everything with this sort of blissful naivety that had always been endearing to me. It wasn't near the top of the reasons that I loved her, but it was certainly a part of the woman that I had chosen to make a part of my life.

  And here I was potentially throwing everything away, all because I'd convinced myself that I didn't have any choice about things.

  Since Jacob had spoken to me that first time I hadn't been able to get it out of my head, hadn't been able to forget about his words. Him continuing to bring things up hadn't helped, but I think even without that I still would have wound up in this position in the end.

  I fucking needed this. I needed to live this out, to get through it and get it out of my system. I needed just once to see my fantasy come to reality, and that would surely be enough for me.

  Avril stepped into the room ready for bed and I looked at her and my heart ached. I mean seeing her standing there I wondered how this wasn't enough for me. I wondered how I couldn't possibly be satisfied with what I had right here in front of me. How I needed more than this.

  She looked beautiful, standing there wearing a red nightie. Red really was her color, setting off just perfectly against her tanned and toned skin. The nightie was mostly sheer, with lace covering and containing all of the most enticing of places, not to say there wasn't still plenty to look at.

  She was in stunning shape, her tummy toned and trim, her waist positively tiny and her ass just big enough that you could see the edges of it even from the front. Her thighs had this enticing gap between them that drew the eyes in and made it so that you were pulled inexorably there in spite of all of the other enticing sights to see.

  Like the cleavage on presentation, or the smooth lines of her legs and calves. Her long neck and of course her beautiful face, so perfect even made up for bed.

  Her skin had that freshly scrubbed look to it, flush a bit from the heat of the shower. Her hair was bundled up but even in spite of that, I could see the glossy glistening of her jet black hair. Eyes that were bright with delight and lips that didn't need a drop of lipstick to look plump and inviting.

  “Getting a good look,” she purred, striding over to the bed and slipping beneath the covers. She kissed my neck and then my cheek and then my lips and I felt her hand slip over my stomach and then down to my rapidly hardening member.

  Avril and I had a stunning sex life, one that was exciting and far more active than I had any right to expect. I wanted so much to just let myself slip into the satisfaction of her arms but I knew that if I did I would lose whatever little nerve I had.

  It had taken me weeks to work up this courage, it was now or never.

  So instead of letting her continue I groaned and reached down to grasp her wrist and hold her still a few aching inches away from the beginning of my satisfaction. I felt her pull back and look at me with curiosity on her face.

  “What's wrong?” she asked, a glimmer of true concern in her eyes that just made me love her all the more.

  “I need to tell you something,” I said quickly, losing my prepared speech, “No wait I need to ask you something not tell you something and it's going to be weird and you're going to think that I'm crazy but I need to get this out and I don't know how I'm going to say it but-”

  “Shh,” she cooed at me, kissing me lightly on my lips and then pulling back away from me, “What is it?”

  Avril scooted back on the bed, curling her legs under her to sit there waiting for me to speak. I looked down at her and then laid my head back and put my arm over my eyes so I didn't have to watch her while I spoke.

  “We've talked before about fantasies,” I started, the words coming back to me a bit halting at first but all there in the end, “Fantasies in the bedroom and each time that discussion has come up I've always told you that I don't have any real fantasies.”

  “You told me that I was your fantasy,” she said, and I could hear her smile without even having to look at her. I cursed myself for that clever bit of wordplay, anticipating how she was going to throw that back in my face during our inevitable divorce proceedings that she would initiate when I even suggested the possibilit
y of fulfilling my fantasy.

  “You are,” I said to her quickly, “You're absolutely enough for me and so if you say no to any of this then I will totally understand and be happy with it so you don't have to feel obligated to say yes just because you think it'll upset me if you don't say yes.”

  “Jeremy,” she said, reaching out and placing her hand comfortingly on my chest, “You don't have to worry about me. I'm your wife and I'll love you no matter what your private fantasy is.”

  I took a deep breath, knowing what it was that I had to say. Knowing that I had to press forward in this and make the leap if I wanted this to actually happen.

  “I want to see you with another man,” I said bluntly, wincing after I said it and waiting for a reprisal that never came.

  Gradually I unfurled, moving my arm from off of my face and looking over at my beautiful wife.

  She was frozen, as if she was stuck trying to process what it was that I had just asked of her. Avril was looking down at me, her mouth a little open and her eyes a little wide, just the slightest bit of shock registering on her face.

  I stammered for something to say to make this alright but it was her that broke the silence.

  “You want me to sleep with another man?” she asked, “Like in front of you?”

  Her voice was curious, a deliberate tone of disbelief in it that told me that she hadn't and probably couldn't begin to process my request. I opened and closed my mouth a few times, trying to find the right words but nodding instead of relying on them.

  “Like have sex with someone else?” she added, “You want me to cheat on you?”

  “Not cheat,” I told her, “It's not like that at all. It's so different from that.”

  She shifted on the bed, pulling her knees up in front of her and hugging them to her chest.

  “I fuck someone else,” she said, “Sounds an awful lot like cheating to me.”

  “But I'll be there,” I tried to explain to her, “And I'll want it too. It'll be... Oh god, I know all of this sounds so fucked up but it's my fantasy. It has been for a long time and I was thinking that maybe this could be a gift for me. Your anniversary gift for me.”

  She was quiet then, considering my words, “It's your fantasy for me to be with someone else?”

  “Not exactly,” I said, “You being with someone else is a part of it but it isn't the whole of it. The fantasy is complicated. It's difficult to understand, even for me.

  “I want to watch you with someone else. I want someone else to have you while I watch. But I want you to want it as well. It will all mean nothing if you don't enjoy it, if you don't like it.

  “So yes I want you to be with someone else for a night, but I want you to be happy and satisfied as well.”

  Avril looked at me for a long time without saying anything. She was thinking about things, running through it all in her mind and coming to realize things as she went.

  I sat there in silent anticipation that whole time, watching her and waiting to see what the result was. If she said no I was prepared to drop it then and there. I was prepared to drop it and then spend a lifetime making it up to this woman because I loved her and cared about her enough that doing that would absolutely be worthwhile.

  But Avril didn't say no. Instead, when she spoke it was quite the opposite.

  “So how would all of this work exactly?”

  That was a question I could answer easily. After all, I'd spent my whole life carefully building that scenario in my mind that by now I had each step carefully set out and established.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  BRUCE

  There are only so many mountains to climb, both literally and figuratively. Only so many times you can summit an impossible goal and stand on the top of it before you just simply fucking run out of things to do.

  I'm not going to say that I'd been gifted in life. I'm not going to say that god had been good to me or that I was lucky because all of that shit just downplays all of the fucking work that I put into getting to this point in my life.

  I am a success story. Success in business, success in personal life, success in dating, success in physical accomplishment. I am successful, by any metric that you want to lay before me except for one.

  When I was in my third year in college I was bored out of my goddamn skull working towards my degree when fortune struck in the form of a sizable inheritance. I used that money to convince my roommate to drop out with me and start a business, I would be the money and manage operations, he would drive the vision and development of the company.

  Buddy was fucking smart. Fucking genius. Give him a big budget and enough caffeine to kill a horse and he could work miracles.

  We pumped out a bunch of genius software, nothing that you'd have ever heard of because it wasn't flashy or big. We went the way of enterprise services rather than public applications, selling software to businesses that can drastically improve their operations and reduce their bottom line. Make them more money doing the same thing they're already doing. Function over fun.

  We were a little fish in a big fucking pond but we still had a couple big hits on our hand, enough to draw some of the right attention. By that point both my buddy and me were bored with our day to day so when someone offered to write us a check big enough for us to never have to work again we jumped on the chance. My buddy went off to work on whatever made him happy and I invested well enough to live off the dividends.

  I was retired at age twenty-three, so I turned my attention to other conquests.

  I'd always been fit but now I got into shape. Personal trainer and personal chef and nutritionist and all of the rest of it. I worked hard and played hard at the same time.

  That meant nights out at clubs and parties, becoming a fixture in a city just long enough for me to become a known quantity and then departing for the next place.

  I got a taste for the good things in life, expensive wine and expensive food and expensive clothing and expensive women. I drank and ate and fucked my way across the globe and when I was done with all of that I learned to supplement my appetites with achievements and culture.

  I summited literal mountains. I visited museums and private galleries with the relics and works of art that were pure and beautiful. I skied down wild slopes as sheets of snow fell around me. I attended orchestras playing the most intensely emotional symphonies.

  I gave my heart and soul into having a full life, and it only took me until I was twenty-seven to grown so very fucking bored of it all.

  The world is extraordinarily small. If you have enough money and drive and determination you can see enough of it that all of it starts to feel sort of the same. The things I did now were fun and they helped me to feel like I was really doing something, but more and more they were feeling hollow and feeling like I was experiencing shadows of something I'd already felt before.

  I'm man enough to admit that I was terrified, thinking that I'd lived a full life by the age of twenty-seven and that there was nothing else left for me but to while away my days with fond remembrances of things that had come before.

  Now for the record I know there was something else. Hell, I'd even admitted it early, 'success by any metric that you want to lay before me except for one.'

  But I wasn't quite ready to cross that final finish line.

  Love had never been a thing for me, for as long as I could remember. Growing up an orphan and bouncing from place to place I'd never had a people to call my own and had never felt the calling to surround myself with people that I could call anything more than casual acquaintances.

  That had always been enough for me, with everyone in my life passing through in flitting remembrances. Women and men, friends and employees. Even the people I had known for a long time I rarely spoke to more than twice in a single calendar year. It didn't bother me, because I'd never seen the point in dwelling on connections to other people.

  Other people let you down. Other people pinned you down. Other people made it so that you were pigeo
nholed into a location and a time and so that you didn't have the freedom to drop everything and dash across the globe.

  So many good times in my life had happened spontaneously, without any planning or consideration. If I had ever been with someone that wouldn't be an option for me, and so I didn't ever see the point in giving up something that I loved for something that might possibly make me happy.

  The math just didn't work out.

  So with that off the table I started to seek out other options, other experiences and pleasures to give me a sense of accomplishment and fulfillment in my life. I started to explore avenues and tastes that were foreign to me, that I'd never considered before out of the possibility of them being far too bizarre to actually properly enjoy.

  Sex was the best example of this to me, of something that had always been so remarkably straightforward as to be almost blunt. I'd never considered the nuance, not once.

  I'd been with women who were amazing, stunningly beautiful and extraordinarily talented. Women who could make me feel things that I'd never thought that I could feel, who could bring me to stunning highs that I imagined would be enough for my appetites.

  But at a little club in Amsterdam I experienced something different, something unexpected.

  The pleasure was there too, but there was a pain in it as well. Pain that highlighted the edges of the sensation and gave it a dimension that I hadn't properly considered before. And that pain helped outline everything for me, helped me consider that maybe I was missing something in my single-minded pursuit of a single-minded pleasure.

  I put my mind to exploring this topic more fully.

  As in all things I put my mind to it started with research, finding out the true scope of the task at hand and determining the true breadth of what I could explore. As I did that some things were crossed off immediately, mostly because they crossed lines of distaste for me. Maybe they would have satisfied some unforeseen itch, but if they didn't frankly they weren't worth the effort when the experience might be something that I could never forget.