Finally, after twenty-five years of being with her, I told my wife of my favorite fantasy - watching her with another man. To say that she received that revelation with less than enthusiasm would be a gross understatement.
Over the next several months, after discussing the whys, wherefores, how comes and other things concerning my fantasy, my wife started reading the magazines I would bring home. The stories and letters would get her all hot and bothered and we began to make love about three times more often than we had been. And then one day my wife told me that someday, if the situation and circumstances were just right, she might, only might, fulfill my fantasy.
"But don't get your hopes up too high because it isn't likely to happen."
But several things did happen. For one, my wife became a much more sexual person. She bought 'lacy things' to wear around the house and high heeled 'come and fuck me' pumps which she started to wear more often. I would come home from work and find her sitting on the couch in her new 'lacy things' with a rubber cock in her pussy - "heating it up for you" she said. Her personality changed. Where she used to give me dirty looks when I'd watch some well-stacked honey walk by, now she would say things like, "Down boy. You can't chase that until I've had all I want." She even started commenting on the guys we would see, "Could you imagine me with him?" "How about that one? Would you like to see me suck his cock?"
And then one day something happened that showed me that she was a totally different person from the one I'd lived with for twenty-five years. We had gone to a local restaurant for breakfast and had been seated next to a couple that I'll call "attention getting" for lack of a better way of describing them. The man was a fairly good-looking young man and he appeared to be a few years younger that the woman. The woman was something else. My mother would have called her a tramp. My father, on the other hand, would have followed her around the super-market or mall for hours, keeping a careful ten feet behind her. Every male in the place was having trouble keeping their eyes off her, and the woman in the booth across from her alternated between looking daggers at her and throwing glances at her husband daring him to look at the woman.
Me? I just looked at the woman, appreciatively I might add, and wondered what her story might be. She was maybe middle thirties, dirty blonde hair with dark roots showing, heavy eye make-up, and bright red lipstick with nails to match. She had a half dozen heavy bracelets on each arm and several gaudy rings on each hand. She was wearing a black tank-top that was performing heroically in trying to contain what had to be at least 38 C cup breasts, and tight jeans, and high heels. When she leaned forward in her seat her jeans gapped in back to reveal black thong underwear and you could actually see the thong disappearing between the top of her ass cheeks. My wife looked at me and said, "Are you having another one of your fantasies?" I just smiled and continued to watch the woman.
We finished our breakfast and while I was fishing out my wallet my wife did something totally out of character for her, she got up and went over to the woman's table and said something to her. The woman's head turned and she looked at me and then she looked back at my wife. Some words were exchanged and my wife came back to our table.
"What was that all about?" I asked.
"I just told her that she should give you her check. That buying her breakfast was the least you could do to thank her for the enjoyment that her presence here gave you."
Just then the woman got up and walked over to us, "I'm a lot more expensive than the cost of breakfast, but thanks anyway for the compliment."