Why, I wondered, would any man in his right mind want to watch his wife with another man? I haven't a clue. I only know that for the last three years every time my wife and I have had sex I have wished that I could be standing off to the side of the bed watching her.
Three weeks ago there was a scandal involving several people that we know. They had formed a wife-swapping group and several of the members were using drugs. A new couple in the group turned out to be undercover cops and the whole bunch got busted for drug use. My wife and I were discussing this one evening when she asked me:
"What possesses people to do things like that?"
Not realizing the hot water I was about to get into I said, "All people have fantasies honey; some are just brave enough to try and actually live them out."
"I don't have any fantasies, do you?"
"A few," I said.
"Like what?" she asked.
I told her if I brought them out into the open they wouldn't be fantasies anymore. Karen gave me a look that said I'd better start talking or my life was going to be a living hell for a while, so I told her about my wanting to see her with another man. She looked at me with disbelief:
"You want me to have sex with someone else while you watch? That's the most perverted and disgusting thing I've ever heard. How could you even think that I would ever do something like that?"
I tried to explain that I didn't think that she ever would - it was just a fantasy, but she wasn't buying it and things got kind of frosty around the house for awhile.
Karen and I work for the same company, she is an executive secretary and I am an accountant, so we usually ride to work together. It was a very quiet ride for a couple of days and then one night on the way home Karen said:
"I want to apologize for my behavior the other night. I had no right to treat you like that, after all, you've never asked me to do anything like that and I never would have known if I hadn't pulled it out of you." There was silence for a few moments and then she said, "But I'm having a hard time in trying to see why you might have a fantasy like that. In other words, why do you want to see me have sex with another man?"
Since I didn't have a clue why it was my fantasy I decided to wing it. "I guess it's because there are a whole lot of little things that I can't see, but am curious about. When we make love in the normal position I can see your face, but nothing else. I can't see how it looks when you wrap your legs around me; what do you look like when you are having an orgasm - do your toes curl down? What does it look like when your fingernails are dug into my ass cheeks and you are pulling me to you and your legs are kicking in the air? When we do it dog style you are more vocal than when in the missionary position - are your facial expressions different too? The other man is just there for the mechanics of it. Someone to do you so I can stand off and watch."
More silence. "So you don't necessarily see me with any particular man?"
"No. Its you I want to watch, not him."
That night we made love for the first time since the big blow-up. Five minutes into it she asked me in a voice hoarse with passion:
"Are you imagining me with someone else right now?"
I wasn't, but I didn't think that was what she wanted to hear. "Yeah," I whispered in her ear.
"Tony - the young guy in the mailroom."
"Is he fucking me good?"
"Very good" I said, "you've already had three orgasms" and Karen went over the edge in one of the strongest orgasms she's had in a long time. When we were finished she asked me, "Why Tony?"
"Because he is young and probably has plenty of staying power. He could probably fuck you all night long, and give you maybe ten or twelve orgasms."
She laughed at me, "Why would a nineteen year old want an old wreck like me?"
"Honey" I said, "You are without a doubt the sexiest forty-nine year old woman I've ever seen. There isn't a man you know who would pass up a chance to fuck you if he got the chance."
She smiled at me, "That's why I keep you around baby, you always say the right things - even if they are bullshit!"
The next day on the way home from work she said, "Can you imagine Ryan fucking me?" I said that I could. "How about Mark?" Again I said I could. The she ran down the list of every man who we worked with and I said yes to all of them until she came to Clyde. At the point I burst out laughing, "What?" she said, "You don't think he would find me attractive enough?"
"Sweetheart, we would have to pick him up and set him on you, and then you would have to wrap your arms around him to keep him from falling off. He's almost eighty!"
This went on for a week with Karen naming every male that we knew (or had ever known) and me saying yes or no. On Friday we stopped at our favorite watering hole for drinks, as was our habit, and over her second vodka martini Karen said:
.... There is more of this story ...