Long before I heard of cuckoldry, I had fantasies about my wife having sex with other men. I knew something was going on that was different or strange inside me. I would have these thoughts and not be filled with jealousy, rage, or suspicion. Rather, I would feel aroused, horny, sexual.

I stuffed the feeling, but deep inside, instead of worrying that she was cheating, I was kind of hoping she was. I brushed that thought aside anytime it showed up.

She isn’t the overly flirty type, but I could always tell when she was enjoying a conversation. I can also tell when a guy is testing the waters to see if there is a chance. This would happen at times, and she innocently enjoyed the attention. She is an attractive brunette, in good shape. The kind of woman most men like.

This seemed exciting to me. I would have fantasies about watching him with her. The fondling and foreplay. Him taking off her clothes perhaps, leading up to a great time in bed for her. Honestly, I fantasized about her fucking other men more than I fantasized about me fucking other women.

Often I would think of this while having sex with her. I would imagine watching someone else doing what I was doing with her. I didn’t talk to her about it much because it was too strange. I wasn’t feeling what I was supposed to feel. I couldn’t explain it so I just never mentioned it to her.

When we were out in public I would ask her which men she liked. It became a game of sorts, and we joked around about it. The game became for me to guess which guy in a restaurant she thought looked good. Sometimes I would jokingly ask her if she wanted to be with him sexually. She would always laugh and say, “no silly, i’m married.” I was joking, but even then I felt a twinge of truth.

This started long before I met her. It is devastating to get dumped by a girl when in high school or college. Of course I felt bad being rejected, but there was a touch of excitement with it that I could not explain. If I saw her later with her new boyfriend, it excited me. I usually stuffed those feelings because I just did not understand them. I was supposed to feel jealousy. I was supposed to feel hurt. What I felt more often than not was a bulge growing in my jeans.

I was with a woman after I started working who drank a lot. I ended up breaking up with her because she was such an alcoholic. But there were times she told me stories about getting fucked while she was drunk. I would get so turned on when she would do that, and she knew it so she did the stories all the more. I am not sure she was telling the truth though, but I do know her telling me those things was very erotic.

Several years later, my wife and I are in our late 30s.

She had to go to a different city to work for a few months. She was gone a month or two at a time for almost a year. We talked a lot on the phone in those days, and talked on the internet as well. Our talk often got steamy and dirty. She seemed to enjoy it. We talked of having others a little bit. Sometimes she would joke about having a man in her hotel room. I told her that thought was very arousing.

One night she asked me if I would mind if she went out to dinner with a man she was working with. She said she was not joking and she would only do it if it was ok with me. From her tone I knew she was not joking. I told her it would be fine. I halfway jokingly told her anything she wanted to do was Ok.

This went on for a month or two, and then once when she was home, she asked “the question.” She asked me if I was serious when I said I liked the idea of her having sex with someone else? She asked me if that was something I would accept.

She told me she loved me but had become quiet attracted to this man she had been having dinner with. She said she did not want to break up with me, and if I said no she would not see him again. She admitted that she wanted to have sex with him. She was curious about it, and he very much wanted her. But she said she wanted my permission.

My head was spinning. I hardly knew what to think. It was exciting. I felt an adrenaline rush, and a rise in eroticism like I had not felt in years. I told her yes, I was ok with her having a fling. I asked her, or told her I hoped, this would be temporary, but I did want her to do it. She said she thought it would be temporary.

She went back to the city on Monday. On Tuesday afternoon, about the time she was getting off work, she called me.

“Baby, are you sure?,” she said.

I knew what she meant. “Yes love, I am sure.”

She hung up, but called me again about 9 p.m. Again the same question.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes love I am sure.”

“This is your last chance. It is going to happen baby. you are sure its ok?” she said. I asked her if she was in her room, and if he was with her in the room. She said yes to both.

“Have fun sweety,” i said. “But please call me later.”

The rest of the night I was a nervous wreck. A very aroused and horny nervous wreck. By 11 I wanted to call her. I had jacked off a few times, so much that I couldn’t anymore. By 12 I was getting worried. By 1 a.m. I was asleep.

The phone rang at 6a.m., waking me up. She was on the other end.

“GOod morning” she sang into the phone, sounding joyful, cheerful, and very happy. “I am sorry I didnt call you last night, it was pretty late when .. ummm.. we finished.”

I told her it was ok that she hadn’t called and that I was happy for her.

We assured each other that we were ok.

For the next two months she had a regular visitor in her hotel room. She would call me give me the details, describing their love making. He understood and was fine with getting to fuck a married woman regularly for a time. When she did come home we fucked like rabbits. We had sex like we did on our honeymoon. It was probably the best and hottest sex ive ever had.

It was her introduction to a new world, one she would never leave.

I never met him. Ive met most of her other lovers. I get excited about each new one just as she does.

Blurring the lines between the spiritual and sensual. Tales often of a sexual nature of my journey in this world. Sex positive, Yes I am positive.

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