"So - are you really up for fucking my wife?"

I had him on the phone. I had spent weeks going through swinger sites, dating sites, and Adult Friend sites.

It's amazing what's out there.

I posted a hidden cam picture of my lovely red-headed wife fucking me, and giving me head, and then of course, the classic 'holy crap she's actually pretty' picture of her in a pretty summer dress.

I would banter back and forth with different guys, looking for someone who might be up for a little challenge. It's funny how these sites seem to attract the bored male on evenings who hopes for an easy lay.

When I found a single guy, close to our age, who lived in the area, and seemed decently good looking, it was almost too good to be true. After a number of emails back and forth we devised a plan, I decided to just call him, to set something up.

Here I am. I'm reasonably successful, with a hot wife, who is naive, innocent, sheltered, and has no idea how hot she is. And, she is hot. I can't believe how much girls' moms can screw up their daughters - and I won't get into that now, but my lovely wife now suffers from weird self-esteem issues, even though, she is consistently the most fit, most attractive, most head-turning red-head at any given place at any given time she is honestly caught up in never believing she is pretty.

In the bedroom, I'm clearly the most aggressive - given the self-esteem issues I mentioned before. I would bring up these fantasies of her picking up random guys and flirting with them. Raising these fantasies was a nice start. Then I would try to turn the volume up, and it would kind of stop there.

My fear has always been centered on the fact that my wife is very naïve. I am my wife's first boyfriend. There have been times in our 10+ year marriage where this has been evident, but we work it out.

In a weird way, I honestly think that an affair would do her good.

This stranger and I hatched our plan.

I travel - a lot - for weeks at a time. Heather is a nurse, and we have young kids.

For setting up a seduction, I'm the perfect person to work with, because I have her schedule, and I knew which days she would be working late, and which days the kids would be at Grandma's. I also know what her interests are, what she finds funny, and I would provide avenues that work to get past first base with her. I am the perfect wing man – I am the perfect inside guy. Armed with tips from me, a reasonably charming man should be able to get inside her panties and confirm that her pussy is as red as her hair.

Our plan was simple.

I would give her a heads up that my old pal, Joe, was coming over to drop off a golf club from when we were in University together. He would 'conveniently' come over when she would be home, without the kids, and because this dude is posing as an old friend of mine, any awkwardness from a first meeting would be gone.

He would come in for a beer, and then take it from there. Heather never ever went to bars, and has no idea how to deal with a guy who is hitting on her. After a beer, she gets pretty woozy, and after two, she's pretty easy.

That was the plan. With this stranger who lived nearby.

I mean to say, that 'was' the plan until Heather intercepted our text messages. I was an idiot, and I hadn't deleted them on my phone. There was a moderate freak out, and then I basically acted like a coward, and dropped the ball on everything.

Then - I went away for 2 weeks for work, and we didn't resolve a stupid disagreement before I had walked out the door.

Upon my return I entered a house that seemed unlived in. Groceries in the fridge were past due, the milk had expired, and the house was desperate for a vacuum. Clearly the kids had been staying at her Mom's place.

The cold reception I received from her didn't help matters much either. After another dumb fight, things relaxed, and 3 days later we were back to our stage of normal.

I didn't think much about what had happened. Heather is accustomed to my travelling, so if I don't call every night, or we don't talk everyday - we're both fine with it. On some days, I barely get a chance to even text her, so she understands.

As I said, I didn't think much of things at all. I'm not suspicious, and my Heather is hardly the type to pull any subterfuge. It wasn't until I was catching up on 2 weeks of laundry, that I saw she had only worn only her sexiest thongs during the 2 weeks, and her summer dresses, and super tight yoga pants were in the hamper.

Knowing what I know now, I would have at least done a sniff test, but I am the trusting husband, and I focused on doing my best to get through the 2 weeks of dirty clothes.

Then, on a supposed Saturday family day, she made up an excuse to go to the office, and she went to great lengths to hide her phone from me. Upon discussions with the kids, I found out that grandma and grandpa had taken a pretty active role to get them to their activities at night.

Honestly - the thought of my angelic wife having an affair on me was unthinkable. Of course my secret fantasies flew off the handle, but reality is usually grittier, and harsh. My heart raced. It was mind-numbing to think that she would ever cheat on me.

It was only the fact that she seemed so flushed after a quick run to the office, that my suspicions grew. Why would she be flushed after dropping off documents?

As soon as she came home, she begged to jump in the shower without kissing me or the kids.

When I heard the shower come on, I went upstairs, and found her panties. I did the sniff test. Her thong was wet, and I could smell something else ... how do you describe the scent of a cummed in pussy? Especially a pussy that has only ever been yours? It was a weird revelation. I know her cunt smells like after I've filled it – but it wasn't my spunk – it was different.

She really was fucking around.

My heart did somersaults. I had dreamed of setting this up – but there I was standing in our room, holding underwear with pussy and cummy stains.

But my usually emotionally cold and clinical wife, was more amorous than usual. When she got out of the shower, instead of attempting to hide every centimeter of skin, she walked into the room naked, and threw her arms around me and squeezed my ass.

We went through our usual motions, while I walked around in a semi-aroused and confused state. The link between my cock and my brain was fizzling.

When we fucked that night, there was no small talk, there was no discussion. Her lips circled my cock, and any hesitation melted away as the wet slurping sounds of marvelous cock-sucking filled the bedroom.

Of course - something was slightly off. Her usual innocent cadence of awkward teenage necking and caressing was gone.

What the hell did I care? Which man on the planet doesn't want a slut in the bedroom and a queen in the living-room. Her cunt was looser than it usually was, and she didn't experience the usual grimacing as I slipped it in. Usually until our fucking juiced things up, I would have to endure dry cunt lips against my dick.

Not this time.

This time she was right into it. When she sucked my cock, she did it with such gusto, and enthusiasm, that I almost came in her mouth. When we were fucking, she held me so tight, and her cunt tightened around my cock with muscles I had never felt before, it honestly felt like she was someone else. Her pussy lips were gripping my cock, and her hands were caressing me and encouraging me to forcibly fuck her pussy harder.

And where was my head at?

There I was physically; in-between the legs of a physically perfect red-headed woman, with her cunt and mind completely open to only me. My harder than usual cock deeply buried in her snatch, while she begged me to fuck her harder.

Where were my racing thoughts?

With each thrust, all I could imagine was the image of her parading around in her super tight yoga pants, with no underwear so that her perfectly tight ass was completely on display. There she was, slutting it up in front of some dude who was doing his best to make out her pussy lips through the fabric. And while this stranger could make out her cunt, and hell, maybe even her clit, Heather would be wearing one of her overly worn, thin, low cut tank tops, with her nipples clearly visible. In this fantasy, she would walk over to this stranger, put her hands on his shoulders and bend over so that her hanging tits would form a deep line of cleavage, and then the slut would push her chest up to his chin. One of her strawberry nipples would be tantalizingly close to this strange dude's lips. He would without hesitation, grab both her tits and suck on her right nipple.