Chapter 1

"And... What if I start, and I love it, and I don't want to stop, hmm?" Karin says, more than a tad on the teasing side.

"Well, honey, all the better," I reply, playing along in the same tone. The worst is, I really mean that. All the way.

"I can't believe that," she says, trying to sound matter-of-factly.

"You don't say. Of course you believe me. That's what's holding you, come to think of it. You know I'm gonna love it every step of the way." I smirk at her, gently mocking her false pretenses at reluctance.

Gradually, over the few last weeks, she has begun to offer less resistance to the idea. Of course, she isn't about to admit it in so many words just now, but definitely, something has given within her, and I feel it. I know her by heart. That's how much I love her.

Over the last two weeks, every time we've made love, we've used it to raise the excitement level up several notches, both her and mine. She even took the initiative several times to use it as a fantasy while we had sex. She is more than warming up to it, no question.

I'm sure her worry is genuine, though. What if she takes more than a liking to it and includes it indefinitely as part of her sex life? I'd love it, as I said, and I do mean it. And I'm sure she would too.

But Karin has a few remaining obsolete and rusted principles that I'm trying my damnedest to obliterate. Remnants of a misspent youth, I guess. She was a virgin until age 22. On the surface, she is all about believing in the strong, hermetically closed couple, traditional and united in everything. Underneath, I know she's started to boil a while ago, and is deeply troubled —in the good sense- by the idea of servicing another man's needs and caprices to their full extent. Moreover, as heartless as it may sound, I'd really like her to delve into this world of extra-marital depravity while we both have some beautiful years ahead of us. She's 32, has never looked so desirable and attractive, and has a great sexual energy. On that subject, Karin has an intriguing, but exciting —as far as I'm concerned- special feature regarding sex. She cries almost every time she makes love, particularly when she climaxes, she can't help it, nor would I wish that she can. I love it, it melts me every time.

So, she does love sex quite a lot, despite her late start. Only she's pretty exclusive about it so far. And that's my curse.

Try to understand me here. Karin's what one could call the archetypal voluptuous, feminine beauty, as far her body's concerned at least. She's rather tall, she stands at 5'8, has long, straight and wonderfully silky dark blonde hair. She's insanely curvy without being overweight or worse, just... cushiony. Comfortable would be the proper term. She reminds most people of Anita Ekberg, only prettier —at least I think so- and with much more massive breasts. Her 40 DD, grapefruit-like, makes many a male and female head turn; she ceased being bothered by all the looks long ago. I've had a number of women before I met her, but I never came across breasts so big and firm at the same time before, even though of course their heaviness make them hang close to the south side when she's not wearing a bra or a very tight top.

Wide, wide hips and a lower back that looks like a ski jump track, leading to her firm, very round ass, prolong that perfection, while a nicely proportionate, reasonably thin waist and flat belly (we don't have kids yet) complete the picture. Now, she isn't model material by any stretch and is not a classic beauty as far as her features are concerned either. Thankfully. But she's very pretty, in a girlish, fresh kind of way, and has that rare sparkle to her. She is harmonious, criminally sexy, gets hit by guys all around all the time, and is very comfortable in her skin. She's very natural about it all, not self-conscious.

Almost every time we go to a party or club or something, I leave her alone for a while on purpose and wander around, trying to overhear guys' comments about her when they talk among themselves. "Hey, you know that big-titted blonde over there?" "Wow, look at Miss Boobs. I'm sure she hasn't seen her feet in years." "Oh, man, that's one hot broad. I'd sure love to play hubby for two hours. You think she swallows, too?" Like that.

If I have to be honest, though, eavesdropping on guys is not my sole purpose when I leave her alone in a crowd of strangers like that. Always, I nourish the hope that she will remark someone and make a very nice, full of promises male acquaintance. To no avail so far.

I can't praise her various merits enough, but the more it goes and the less I can get past her only flaw in my eyes. She's sexually monogamous, and that has to change, no question. For me, it has become close to intolerable.

She fixes me with her light green eyes, smirks.

"I know you would. Pervert."

"The fact is you would too."

"Maybe. Maybe not..."

"Life's too short for 'maybe', baby."

She rolls her eyes mockingly. She comes toward me and does what she knows makes me shut up best.

Over the next few days, our fantasy talks revolve almost exclusively around The Idea. Like a flower, I see her open more and more and absorb this new light shone onto her desires, driving her to some of the most intense orgasms I have known her to have when we make love. Whether she likes to admit it or not, things are gearing up, and my psychological invasion and destruction of some of her certainties are taking a hold for sure. The following weekend, I feel, without fooling myself, that considerable progress has been made. Still, a lifetime of education had to be undone, and that takes patience and time.

She tries to keep it all theoretical, but the shine in her eyes tells me her desires are real enough.

"So, what if I met someone? I wonder what your first words may be when I tell you that."

"'Halleluiah'?"

"For real. Come on, it would be fun to know."

"Really? Well I guess we'll just have to try it then," I say with my best perv smile.

She sighs in feigned exasperation. What's new is that she doesn't say anything. In typical behavior, normally she would negate the idea, even half-heartedly, just for the sake of it.

But she doesn't. In fact, she pauses for just a beat, her eyes distant, before going back to her business around the house, her movements rather slow and distracted. Her wheels are cogging.

Little by little, I have closed all the exits allowing her to escape the fact that it just has to happen. It's inevitable. I want it too much for it not to take place. I've put lots of efforts into it, cajoling, teasing, and persuading of every kind. Trying to make her see the light is no small feat. But she's getting less and less blind by the day. A deep stirring within me tells me the excitement The Idea generates within her cannot go anywhere but up, now. And she's beginning to be aware that to keep it up —and she wants to keep it up-, the next level has to be reached. The next level; the last, unavoidable level. Her belonging to another man, her being shared in every and all ways. I sense her abandon to The Idea growing, making her almost as ebullient as me to take the dive.

Karin is a perfect woman —at least I think she is. But that's just it, that's where we —she, rather- have a problem. She's a very, very sentimental and terribly soft hearted girl. She knows herself, and is aware that if she shares her intimacy with another man in any serious way, her heart will beat faster, whether she wants it or not. It's a very touching trait of hers, but one she doesn't, cannot, and won't control. If she'll let her body speak, then she'll let her heart fly. As for me, it needn't be a problem, but I know she fears that she'll have a behavior beyond the raw, pure sexual. Which for me is, of course, all the more exciting. Now, we are soul mates, for better or worse. One cannot live without the other, we know that by now. But, still, it scares her that she could be subject to bouts and fits of intense passion outside our couple. She knows that if she gives herself to another man, she'll be infatuated with him rather rapidly. She's afraid it will separate us.

I know better.

I cheated a little. In all my approach for her to do this, I repeatedly told her not to worry, that it would and could only be a sex fest, nothing else. Of course, I knew all the while that it won't be that straightforward or simple, but I can't tell her that. I can't tell her that it's a bonus as far as I'm concerned if she finds herself in the throes of passion with another man, at that point in time, this would hurt her profoundly. But she functions that way so far. Up till now, she only finds sexual solace when she feels strongly for her man, there's no way around it. For now.

That's part of why it had been so difficult to bring her to that point, part of why she never had flings or one night stands in her youth. She's always been a very nice lady in all ways. That's the point. Karin's a real lady, an adorable woman. She's never been a slut, even briefly, or even anywhere close to frivolous, ever. Before meeting me, she'd only had two other long, meaningful relationships. We've been married for five years now.

What's going to happen doesn't scare me. Maybe I'm being naïve, but neither of us thinks anything can take us apart. I'd swear my life on it. That's why I do want her to take the plunge into delicious abandon.

She knows what I think about her physique, how much I praise it and appreciate it. She knows I consider her, physically, a Goddess. Soon enough, the germ of a challenge sprouts in my mind. Maybe she's reluctant about the final step because it's so easy. Too easy. Who knows, at that point.

"Okay," I say to her one night after sex, "you waited too long, princess. Now I have a condition if you ever want to please another man."

"See? You're backtracking! I knew it..." Her voice trails off. Is that disappointment I hear in it, or am I imagining it?

"I'm not. But the only way I'll know if you really want it is if you have to work a bit for it."

"Meaning?"

"Well, look at it this way. You're one hell of a sex bomb, and you know it. The kind of woman guys think about with both hands, right?"

"Geez. If you say so."

"I do. So, I'll accept nothing less than the same qualities in a guy if he is to touch you. The caricature of the virile, healthy male and all."

"Oh God. Spare me."

"Nah. Especially since I know you do respond to it. You're a girl, after all."

"Fuck you. Sexist bastard. Right, so what's the caricature of the male sex machine? I bet you can't really tell anyway."

"You're so right I can't," I lie. "But you can, and I'm all ears."

It's a bit of a surprise when she pauses and does think about it, a vague smile on her lips.

"Hmm, right. Brown hair, not bald or receding hairline. At least six foot tall, heavily muscled, nothing below 180 pounds. No facial hair, but his torso is all but covered in hair, you just can't see the skin. Abnormally well hung. Hard to please but demanding, domineering, macho. Comes twice as much as Peter North. How did I fare?"

I laugh at all that. I love her wits.

But of course, she fared well. That's quite the kind of guy I picture in my head, fucking her senseless, when we make love.

"Well, you got it, honey. That's the one for sure. Why don't you put an ad out with that description?"

She frowns.

"I thought it excited you, why are you making fun of it?"

"I'm not. I'm dead serious. Put an ad like that on an adult website, see what it gives."

"Not a very natural way to meet someone."

Here we go again...

"Crap. BS. What's natural is when people are actually together. Whatever means they used to get together, who the hell cares?"

"Hmm."

"Hmm?"

She sighs.

"Why not. But just for the fun of it. See if there actually are guys like that. See how many of them think they are Apollo. Could be fun."

"Yeah, I'm sure it can," I add. I try to reason myself not to get my hopes up, but the perspective of this puts me on fire.

"Look at that one!" Karin says, pointing at the computer screen, laughing.

It shows a grainy picture of a guy on a dingy bed. The guy's naked; his skin looks like he's been bleached with aspirin or something. It actually reminds me of a chicken's skin if one had stripped it of its feathers. Normally it would be hilarious, but I don't feel like dealing with timewasters here.

I have to watch my impatience and not let it get the better of me though. Karin takes it much more naturally, she feigns considering all this as if it's only a game. I admit to myself, nonetheless, that she's more relaxed about the process than me, and that she's probably right.

She deletes the message, clicks on to the next in her Adultfriendfinder mailbox. I opened the account, wrote the ad under her dictation; it's practically, word for word, what she said the night we talked about it in bed. The ad presents her as a craving-for-sex single woman looking for a real hunk to fuck her brains out, no questions asked, no strings attached, and that's spelled out in the ad in so many words too. I took pictures of her in some of her best garments, suggestive poses and all. She looks absolutely wonderful in these photos, almost as good as in the flesh. Irresistible.

The next message comes from a 47 years old guy, with only a picture of his body, whereas we specified the candidate to my wife's attentions must reveal himself in full. Bad start.

The written message is worse, written all in caps. "HEY BITCH I WANNA FUCK YOUR BIG TITTIES AND TAKE YOUR ASS TOO REPLY ASAP WITH YOUR CELL # OK BYE"

The man oozes class.

Karin grunts. She clicks on the reply button, and writes "Hi there. Say, did you know men actually come in three sizes? As in 'lol', 'hmm, not bad' and 'oh my god'. Guess where you fit? Get wasted, creep."

She can be stingy if scratched the wrong way. Thankfully I never had to endure her verbal assassination.

I put the ad up five days ago, and her mailbox quickly filled up with literally hundred of messages. She automatically discarded messages without pictures, which amounted for more than two thirds of the bulk.

She reads some more messages, shaking her head in disbelief and/or shame for their originators.

The clicks of the mouse take a monotonous, repetitive rhythm as she sorts through the pile of "wanna fuck!" supplications. I need coffee. I go to the kitchen, asks her if she wants one, hear her yell "no thanks" from the living room. I put the capsule in the machine, let the bitter liquid pour into the cup below, the Espresso purring. As it stops and I go and fetch a sugar cube, the silence strikes me.

No more clicks.

Don't hold your breath, I tell myself. I bring the cup back to the living room.

Karin stares at the screen. Taking most of its estate is the picture of a naked man. We don't speak. The man is her ad. All the way and then some. No cheating either, we see all of him. Face to toe.

"It has to be doctored, don't you think?" Karin mutters.

"I don't know..."

It looks pretty genuine to me. Or am I kidding myself?

Karin reads his message out loud. "Dear Karin, my name's Mark, I found your ad and quite liked it —obviously- so let me respond in kind. I hope you like what you see, let me know. FYI, I'm 38, 6'4, 220 pounds, I'm a football coach, unattached and single. Yours, Mark."

Flawless so far. Clever bastard.

In his picture, "Mark" —is that even his real name? - has his hands on his hips, stares right at the camera, and he has one hell of a hard on. I wonder if that's what Karin meant about the photo being doctored, or rather the insane amount of hair on his chest. He is large and thick, everywhere. Definitely "oh my God" grade.

I put my hand on her shoulder softly, bend toward her. "Answer him, honey", I whisper in her ear, giving her a soft peck on her neck just below. It's only now that I see she's stroking herself while looking at the picture.

I feel her tremble slightly as she hits the reply button.

She's one tiny step from meeting him. They have corresponded for two days now, and exchanged about a dozen emails —Karin gave him her personal Hotmail- before switching to Messenger. They spoke mostly of their respective sexual tastes —what else-, inquiring about each other's fantasies, things like that. I suspect Karin let him talk about this much more than she actually offered from her side.

Nonetheless, he was surprised (and a bit dismayed) when Karin admitted that she'd never taken a facial cumshot; she has always flatly and firmly refused it from all the men's she's been with so far, myself included. Coming in her mouth is no problem, but she's always thought taking cum on her face was not something she would ever enjoy. Or something like that. She clammed up pretty fast on that subject the few times it came up at my initiative.

While Karin is rather sexually docile by nature, my own nature doesn't lead me to be domineering or pushy in bed, at all, so I left it at that, even though I did want to do it. As in everything else with her, she has delicate features and a very feminine face, with gorgeous lips. It would have been quite exciting to cum on such a lovely face. But, she was pretty adamant so far that it remained immaculate, my frustrations be damned.

Mark told her that was a real pity, and that it had to change, even though she told him that on the other hand, she really loved to swallow. "We'll see" was her only, vague reply when he insisted some more.

Now, make no mistake, I love my wife. I adore Karin. Still, one of my motivations for putting my nasty plans in motion is, I won't complain one bit if Karin, let's just say, dips her feet in different sexual practices than we have together. As I said, I know her by heart, and I know that she loves to be compliant in bed, she aims to please —to a certain extent-, and the more she's directed the better for her. As much as it's not in my temper to dominate and rough her up even a little, it would make me hard until I were in my 90's or something if she did get dominated the hard way by other men. By dominated, I don't mean any BSDM circus; just a good, rough hard fuck would do perfectly nicely.

That's what I pray would happen if she ever got to sleep with anyone else. But that part, I keep to myself too. One step at a time...

Nonetheless, she doesn't want to Mark to have the impression that she is a sexually repressed woman, who she really is not; in fact she could sometimes be pretty raunchy, her own way. Except for this facial business, which always lead to her flat and harsh refusal in no uncertain terms.

That leads her nonetheless to ask him about the last so-called request of her ad, the twice-as-Peter-North part. Mark's reply is "let's just hope you're really, really thirsty, Karin." But she isn't satisfied and remains wary. "Ten to one he's full of shit about that," she says to me.

Then she writes "Do you have a cam?"

"Sure."

"Then I'll tell you what. I want to see you jerk off and cum. If I like what I see, I will meet you."

I can't believe my eyes.

"Are you serious?" I ask her.

"Of course not, are you crazy? I just want him to admit to his BS."

I don't have any reply to offer, and wait for him to respond.

Mark writes "Interesting... Are you ready for it now?"

"You bet I am", Karin replies.

A new link appears on her screen, she clicks on it. A small square window opens and here is the object of her not-so-secret desires in full view. Naked, as in his picture, tool in hand. The picture, we now see, hasn't been doctored in any way whatsoever.

"He could not have faked it, right?" She asks rhetorically.

She had masturbated along with him —but he couldn't see that, while I could- and when he finally came, Karin went "oh my God... oh my... fucking... GOD!" and came herself. Now, we didn't know nor cared if he came twice as you know who, but he came more than enough to make Karin climax right here and now just watching it. She ended their conversation with just one line, "I'll be back in a while."

"No, I guess he couldn't have," I reply, stating the obvious.

"Oh my God..." Karin says for the umpteenth time since she has seen her online pursuer come for her at her request.

She looks at me, a melting pot of emotions dancing in her eyes, saying both "let me go" and "hold me" at the same time. I just smile back at her; a gentle, comforting smile. My heart is beating fast. We clearly are at a turning point, she especially. I just nod once, waving at the keyboard. She is short of breath when she turns around.

"I'm back," she writes.

"I'm here. So?"

"So wow. Wow wow wow. What a lovely mess."

"Hehe. Thx I guess. Ever had this much?"

"Of course not."

"Really?"

"Really. Never by a very, very long shot (pun intended)."

"Want it?"

"Yes..."

"Tell me."

"What?"

"What you want. Say it."

She hesitates for just a fraction of a second.

"I want all that cum in my mouth... I do."

"Then come get it."

"Why?"

"Because I also want you like you have no idea."

She pauses. Turns toward me. Eases out of the chair, puts her hand on my cheek and kisses my lips softly.

"I love you. You know that, ok?"

I nod again, twice, smiling from one ear to the next.

She sits back down.

"Give me your cell," Karin writes.

"I just want to have a drink with him. That's it. And that's what I told him anyway."

"Oh, come on..." I reply, my eyes rolling.

"Look, you always said you wouldn't force me into anything, right? Never?"

"And I'm not and I won't. But you two like each other, eh? So..."

"So nothing. It's fun to meet him, I'd like to see what he's like, and that's all."

"Right."

"Right." She winks.

"Plus, you'll get to watch us, so don't ask too much."

"I'm not. It's just... You know."

"Quit it, it's almost time."

They had convened to have a drink together, in a well frequented bar after dinner, around 10 pm. Or so I was told, since Karin went into the bedroom and closed the door when she called him. They didn't speak that long anyway, about ten minutes.

The trick was, I would be able to observe everything that would take place, incognito, being just a few tables away. I just couldn't wait. The best part was she had insisted I go with her. As much as the whole prospect excited her, she was still intimidated, and a bit wary.

We take the car, drive over there, park near the bar.

Karin goes in first, in case he is already there. He's not; we are ten minutes early on purpose, to take in our surroundings and mark my strategic position.

She sits at a small table toward the back of the place; I follow her inside, sit down three tables away from hers. I will see them both, in profile, and be able to hear most of what they'll say, I believe. Nice vantage point.

The waiter comes toward Karin and goes away after she says she is waiting for a date (my wife's about to date, wow), and I ask for coffee myself when he comes and takes my order.

He arrives five minutes late, spots her immediately. He comes up to her table with a friendly, open smile, apologizes for his being late, and finalizes his hello with a kiss on each of her cheeks, lingering there just a bit longer than a normal acquaintance would do.

He sure looks the part, classy in a sportsman way, not overdoing it. Karin has dressed tastefully, as always, but with a bit more provocative edge than she's used to. Her cleavage in particular is very much in your face, making her breasts seem even more enormous than they naturally are. I can tell the guy has trouble looking at her in the eyes at all times, which he admits to, as I overhear their conversation.

"I didn't realize my eyes had dropped that low," Karin jokes good-humoredly.

"Ah, they did not, but there's so much to see, you know?"

"Yeah I know... You like it?"

"You look stunning."

"I know that too."

"Do you like it?"

"Yes... I like the attention."

"Only the attention?"

"Depends on what kind of attention..."

"I'd love to find out what kind of attention you like."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"How do you intend to find out?"

He pauses only briefly, lowers his voice a bit.

"By fucking your brains out? Your stated request, rings a bell?" he says, smiling at her. Square jaw and all.

Karin blushes slightly at that, but keeps smiling, lowering her eyes.

"Oh, you would do that? A nice girl like me?"

"You have no idea."

She looks back up at him.

"Mr Preposterous."

"Don't tease me too much..."

"Or else?" she says, teasing some more.

"Or else you'll loose the use of your vocal chords pretty quickly."

"No chance of that, I'm not a screamer."

Which was true. Sometimes she moans very loudly, but she never does actually scream.

"Tsk, I'm sure you are. We'll see about that."

"We will? Hmm. Can't wait," she replies, her eyes sparkling.

Gosh. That was unexpected. She is excited. Or, maybe she's just toying with him, see how far she can go before his being weary and call it a day?

She caresses his right hand, which he put flat on the table. Karin invariably has her fingernails natural, long, and painted a very vivid red, prolonging full, long fingers. No fakes for her. She plays with her fingernails on the back of his hand, reaches up to his forearm, a mischievous smile on her lips.

When his face reaches slowly forward, she doesn't move, her expression staying the same. His face is mere inches from hers, the silent understanding between them being that it's her last chance to stop teasing and provoking him before he makes his move on her. She doesn't stop. She takes his hand in hers, lacing her fingers with his. Mark knows his cue, reaches forward again, kisses her lips slowly. Karin responds, in that I'm-so-soft way of hers. Their interlaced fingers tense, particularly hers. The timid, soft peck progresses to a passionate, long lasting deep French-kiss.

At last they stop, look in each other's eyes, laughing softly. He reaches forward again, this time going for her ear.

"Let's go," he whispers. Karin nods once, flustered and short of breath.

Mark puts a bill on the table, stands up and takes her by the hand. As they walk toward the exit and he puts his arm around her waist, Karin glances back at me with a brief smile, her eyes saying "I can't help it, I want it too badly."

I wink at her; I'm all but paralyzed, my heart beating at twice its normal rate.

"Darling..."

The voice is distant, hazy.

"Honey, I'm here. I'm back."

Karin. Gone. Sleep. What time is it? Everything rushes back in my mind at once.

After they left the bar together, I sat there stunned for a while, a whole mix of emotions coursing through me. Shock, happiness, and a bit of a drain of energy, all the tension leaving at once, or so it felt. Fake disbelief, too. I had to convince myself that Karin was really about to let a man she barely met fuck her out of her wits, in any way he saw fit, even if I already knew she would.

I went back home, driving slow, my hands were trembling slightly from the excitement and the tiny tinge of worry I felt despite myself. Not about her leaving, but about her personal safety. One never knows, even if the guy seemed safe.

I stayed up until 4.30 am, fighting priapism as best I could, trillions of images coursing in my mind, and at that time I just went to sleep, emotionally and nervously exhausted, collapsing on the bed.

I open my eyes slowly in a flutter, still half asleep, blinking several times. Karin's face is above mine, looking down at me, beautiful, smiling tenderly.

"Honey," I croak. I clear my throat, repeat the word.

I wrap my arms around her and draw her close to me, hugging her tight, feeling her warmth, inhaling her smell.

"Huh, what time is it?" I ask groggily.

"Dunno. Wait..." She frees up her left arm, looks at her watch.

"1.15," she says, looking down at me.

"Huh, pm?" My brain's still stalling a bit.

She laughs lightly.

"Of course pm, silly, what do you think?"

I don't know what I think. My wife has been in the company of another man for the last fourteen hours.

She reaches and switches on the bedside table's lamp.

"God, I'm so tired," she sighs.

I look at her with both my eyes open now, my hand raised in a shield against the sudden light. She indeed looks like she needs some sleep.

"I only slept four hours... I even slept in the cab on my way back," she replies to my unvoiced question.

I hug her close again, kissing her neck.

"Hmm, why?" I ask softly. I so want her to say it, as a part of my brain stupidly refuses the obvious.