Careful What You Wish For

"We need to get going, Jemma, otherwise Ray will think we're not coming." My husband Ricky moaned, oblivious to the fact that I was deliberately stalling and genuinely worried about the night ahead.

I didn't blame him for the situation I found myself in. Not entirely. I was thirty-two, an adult and a wife who could make her own decisions. But after being together for six years, married for three, I thought he knew me well enough to know I didn't want this.

"Do I look ok?" I stressed.

Stood in front of the hallway mirror, heart pounding, I checked my long, brown hair and makeup for the umpteenth time. I had curled it to fall past my shoulders, framing my defined dark eyebrows, subtly enhanced blue eyes, and bold red lipstick.

"You look incredible. Nothing is out of place. I promise," Ricky answered. "I love you in that dress, and so will Ray when he sees you wearing it. Let's go, Jemma."

I had spent two hours getting ready in an effort to look my best, desperate not to disappoint anyone. But it didn't build my confidence or lower my anxiety one bit. In fact, it only made me feel worse. I smoothed my hands down the fabric of the dress, more than happy to stay at home.

"Come on, Jemma. It's time we left."

"Ok. I think I'm ready." I smiled at my husband trying to convey warmth and confidence, but I was a nervous wreck.

..........

Twelve months earlier, my husband confessed to what he called his ultimate fantasy, but what I called his ultimate sin. He longed to watch me with another man. We were having sex in bed after our dinner date at an Italian restaurant, when he brought up how the waiter had spent all evening looking at me. I denied noticing.

"Don't be silly, just make love to me."

"It's ok, I'm not jealous. I saw the way he kept looking at you, and I saw the way you kept glowing. It turned you on, didn't it?"

"I honestly didn't notice," I lied.

I didn't usually appreciate attention from other men, especially right under my husband's nose, but Gianni didn't leer. He simply admired in a way that most men don't. I found myself quietly enjoying his wandering gaze and kept pressing my thighs together underneath the table.

I never looked at him directly, that would have broken the spell. Instead, every time he topped up my wine glass, I sat back with my hair falling behind my shoulders, allowing him to look at my cleavage. It was just harmless fun, but it was entirely mine.

The quiet pleasure of being desired by a very sexy man with an even sexier accent, mid-thirties, who would never get to touch me, while the only man who would ever get to touch me sat directly across the table, oblivious, or so I had thought.

"There's nothing to admit," I sighed softly, spreading my legs wider. "Go deeper."

My husband growled quietly, pressing his hips downward. I moaned, clenching my warm walls tighter around his hard cock.

"It's ok. I love seeing other men looking at you like that. But tonight was the first time I saw you secretly enjoying the attention. It was so hot watching you," he breathed.

"You read into it too much." I kissed his lips to try and shut him up.

"No, I didn't. Tell me what it felt like. I'm not jealous. I want to hear you admit it while I'm inside you," he groaned. "I love that my wife let another man look at her."

My husband did read too much into it. I wasn't sat there at the table creaming my knickers or fantasising about Gianni taking me in the toilets. It just caught me off guard and made me feel good inside. Each time he left our table, the moment went with him. But Ricky wasn't having it.

"You liked that he was a bit older, handsome, and foreign, didn't you?" he accused, trying to put words in my mouth. "That he couldn't stop looking at these," he grunted, squeezing my 36E breasts.

Needing to climax, I decided to play his weird little game. "Oh God, yes. He made me feel wanted. And the whole time you were sitting opposite, I thought you were unaware that I had this private little secret going on. Is that what you want to hear?"

"Fuck yeah, baby! You like secrets?" Ricky repositioned us so he was on his knees with my legs on his shoulders. "I have a secret I'd like to share," he grunted, thrusting harder, making my large breasts bounce. "I wanna watch you get fucked.

"You are watching me, right now. Oh, yes. Make me come," I moaned, getting close.

"Not by me. By another guy. I want to see you with someone else... like that waiter. I want to see you taking a big cock, baby."

I suddenly spasmed in orgasm, hands on my head, panting up at the ceiling while my hips bucked to meet his thrusts. Then Ricky lunged forward, filling my pussy before collapsing on top of me. It was a good night, a good fuck, and as far as I was concerned, the talk was as good as over.

But I was wrong. Now that my husband had let me in on his dirty little fantasy, he wanted to explore it together. For the next six months, mostly during sex, he shared his warped ideas. I enjoyed the intensity it brought into the bedroom, but we weren't singing from the same hymn sheet.

However, soon realising he was deadly serious, and his fantasy wasn't going away anytime soon, I played along just to appease him, gradually becoming accustomed to his crazy pillow talk. When he asked about my sexual history, I simply made stuff up. And when he introduced me to wife-sharing porn, I just accepted it.

But all my appeasement did was encourage my husband to push further and allow my boundaries to become negotiable whenever he applied enough pressure, and he absolutely did. Ricky wasn't malicious, he was just obsessed.

Another six months later, I naively let him persuade me into letting him sign us up to a swinger's website, "just to see what its like." I deluded myself into thinking he would never push to meet someone for real. But if he did, then I would draw a hardline.

On the site one evening, sharing a bottle of wine, reading profiles on his tablet, I couldn't stop giggling at all the indecent photos. A huge mistake on my part. For me it was just a bit of fun, courtesy of the wine. But for Ricky it was confirmation that I really did share his fantasy, so he then suggested we upload a rude photo.

"Just your tits," he said mischievously. His eyes glinted with anticipation at the thought of me whipping off my kit to do it.

"No," I laughed, shocked and embarrassed that he had even asked. But I didn't draw the hardline I had promised.

"Come on, Jemma. Nobody will recognise you," he pleaded with that smile of his.

"I don't know..." I replied meekly. "I haven't even sent YOU a topless photo before. The internet? I really don't think it's a good idea, Rick."

"Come on, let's just try it. No face. Nothing that says it's you. We can take it down after a bit. What do you say, baby?"

"What if someone finds out it's us?" I murmured, feeling a tightness across my chest. "You know what they say about posting online. It's out there forever."

"You'll be fine. Just remove your necklace and we will crop it tight. We can take it down before we log off." He grinned.

I thought about it for a moment before giving in just to please him. "If anyone finds out..." I set my wine glass down.

"That's my girl." He bounced excitedly.

With unsteady fingers, I nervously unbuttoned my blouse, revealing the black lace edge of my bra. I felt like a virgin taking her clothes off to have sex for the first time, and Ricky looked like one too, when I opened the blouse and pulled it down my arms, exposing my full cleavage.

"You really want me to do this?"

"Yes, and so do you," he chuckled, misinterpreting my hesitation as nervous excitement. There's no need to be coy with me. I'm your husband. Take your bra off and go stand in front of that wall," he instructed, pointing across the room.

I stood up from the sofa, pulling the blouse off completely, and removed my necklace. I placed it down on the coffee table before walking over to the white wall, wearing only a black pencil skirt and a bra. I gathered my long, brown hair and put it up in a bun, keeping it out of the way.

"Oh fuck, you look so hot doing that," Ricky groaned, stealing a photo.

"Hey!" I laughed. It was the tiny, tipsy part of me that was boosted by his reaction.

"Don't worry," he smirked. "That one's just for me. "Seriously, you look so sexy."

Once my hair was secured, I reached behind my back. "I still can't believe I'm doing this for you," I complained. "You owe me big time, and I will collect on this."

"Anything you want, baby. Just name your price." He beamed excitedly. "Fuck, guys are going to love seeing your big tits."

Anything but dropping this damn fantasy of yours, I thought, unhooking the clasp. As the straps fell down my arms, I quickly caught the lace cups and hesitated for a moment, then let the bra fall to the floor.

"Now that's what I'm talking about. You have the best tits, baby." Ricky groaned as if he were seeing them for the first time, which did cause me to giggle childishly.

My heavy breasts naturally lowered a bit under their weight, as I stood there topless in our living room, nipples already hard and sensitive to the air. Or maybe it was because my husband was about to post a photo of them on the internet. I wasn't sure about much at that point, apart from the thrill I felt when he stepped closer and directed the tablet at my chest.

"Hurry up," I urged, glancing down at myself. "I'm cold." My nipples were solid.

"Lift your head and put your hands on your hips," he directed, thinking he was a pro. "Be proud and push that fab chest out."

Once he had taken a few pictures, we returned to the sofa to look at them together. Still topless, I felt embarrassed looking at my breasts on a screen. I grabbed my blouse and slipped it back on. Although I was anonymous from the neck down, soft and bare, unmistakable in size, my anxiety kicked in again at the thought of my tits going on the internet to be seen.

Ricky cropped his chosen photo and then uploaded it before I could change my mind. Within seconds of my breasts being approved by the moderators, random strangers were also approving them. The likes just kept on coming, followed by messages in our inbox that we couldn't keep up with as he read them out to me.

I smiled, letting him enjoy the excitement that was clearly coursing through his veins. But I felt somewhat ashamed of myself. The messages were hungry words about my breasts, about what guys wanted to do to them. I also felt like a hypocrite for having looked at cock pics.

Most of the messages, and there were many, were from guys asking to meet that night and fuck or demanding to see more. Even Ricky was disappointed and so he took the photo down. I suggested we perhaps delete our account while he was at it, but my hopefulness was lost on him.

"Why? I thought we were having fun. We just need to be patient and more careful," he insisted "I'll block the dickheads."

"Patient for what? You know I am not going to have sex with someone else, right? I laid it down for him, crystal clear.

"Never say never," he replied, winking at me. "You might change your mind for the right guy."

"Whatever. I am going for a shower."

Ricky was sat up in bed with his eyes fixed on his tablet when I entered the bedroom with a large towel wrapped around my damp, brown hair, wearing a thin, black nylon gown. He usually noticed the fabric clinging to my curves, but not tonight.

"You're not still on that website, are you?" I moaned when he didn't look up.

"Come and have a look at this guy. Have a read of his message and tell me what you think?" Clearly the site took precedence.

"How about you put the tablet away so we can have a chat instead," I suggested calmly, hiding my genuine annoyance.

"Sure. What would you like to talk about? God, you look hot in that gown."

Too late, I thought, rubbing my hair with the towel. "Doesn't any of this... I don't know... feel wrong to you at all?"

He mused for like two seconds. "No, it genuinely doesn't. I know you're unsure, but I promise I'm not going to try and force you into anything you don't want to do."

"Oh, how kind of you," I responded sarcastically, rolling my eyes at the floor.

"Come on, Jemma. You are my wife. I love you. This is for us, and all I want us to do is dip our toes in the water. If we find a suitable guy... we could meet him for one drink... and if you are still adamant that you're not interested, I promise to stop."

"Yes, I am your wife, and if you love me as much as you say you do, then why can't you see I'm adamant right now? Why do we need to find a guy and meet him? What's the point? It doesn't make any sense. You've become obsessed, Ricky."

He beckoned me over to the bed, where we sat together on the edge, his arm around my waist. "Because the thought of watching you turns me on in ways nothing else does. It's always been there, and I know you'd love it if you just opened up."

I sighed. "Am I not enough for you? Do I make you feel inadequate? Is that it? You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Why risk our marriage over this?"

"This would strengthen our bond more than anything. Can't you see? This isn't about me. This is about you. The sexual freedom you deserve, and I'll be right there enjoying it with you. Do you mean to tell me that you haven't thought about it? Not once? What it might actually be like?"

"Well, yes... of course I have. But..."

"See, there you go. We're both turned on by the same thing. I get to see you free and desired by another guy, and you get to feel that power and energy, knowing I'm right there with you, loving it. "Don't think I haven't noticed the change in you... how extra wet and horny you are when we role-play our fantasy or watch porn together."

Our fantasy? That spun my mind for a moment. I considered myself to be an intelligent woman. I may not have been very streetwise, but I knew how the world worked, and I didn't suffer fools gladly. Yet I was confused, trying to work out which one of us was the fool in the relationship.

"Now we have sorted that out, come and take a look at this guy. Ray. I think you'll like him. He's not like all the others."

I looked at the screen, void of any real emotion, and read the message three times in my head before admitting, without enthusiasm, that Ray looked and sounded nice. I certainly didn't fancy him.

He was forty-six, fourteen years older than us, and though his message was respectful and non-expectant of a reply, I was more than happy to ignore him. But my husband wasn't. I ended up sitting there with him while they messaged back and forth, clarifying what "we" wanted.

Reluctantly, I allowed Ricky to upload a recent photo of us, which was taking at a friends wedding. I loved the photo and even had a copy of it printed and framed. It sat on one end of the fireplace with another framed photo of us on our own wedding day sat on the other end. Sending it to a stranger didn't feel right, but my excited husband sent it anyway.

The photo shows him looking sharp in a navy suit and a white shirt open at the collar, his blonde hair neatly tousled. His arm is around my waist like he is proudly telling the world that I am his woman. I look so happy, wearing a beautiful, deep green, ruffled strap, maxi dress, with a thigh-high slit, displaying a fully inviting but classy cleavage, my hair styled in an elegant up-do with face-framing tendrils.

Ray replied a few moments later: "You make a stunning couple. You look really solid together, and Jemma is gorgeous."

He didn't give too much away, which I appreciated along with his compliment. But it didn't change how I felt. Then Ray asked if we wanted to meet socially for a drink to see how we all felt in person. My husband was thrilled when I eventually agreed, missing the emptiness I showed.

He agreed a time and date with Ray before finally logging off, then he had me out of the black gown and naked on the bed, worshipping my body. He kissed, licked, and nibbled until I submitted and begged him to fuck me. Unsurprisingly, he groaned through every minute, talking about Ray fucking me with his big cock. But I still enjoyed the sex and climaxed.

Once Ricky was asleep, I lay awake with his cum tricking between my legs, telling myself everything was going to be fine. We were solid like Ray had said. My husband loved me and I loved him, so I decided to go along with the meet, praying reality would finally dawn on his wild fantasy.

We met Ray in town on a quiet Wednesday evening. My husband wore dark jeans and a beige Henley top over a white t-shirt, sleeves rolled up, his blonde hair neatly tousled like it often was. He looked so handsome, yet he was tragically taking me out to meet another man. Go figure.

I deliberately wore my black, knee-length dress because of its clean high-scoop neckline and three-quarter length sleeves. No cleavage, much to my husband's disappointed. But the fabric still skimmed over my curves, outlining their fullness. My long, brown hair was straight, and my makeup respectable.

Arriving at the bar, Ray was already waiting for us. I glared at my husband, who finally felt my nervousness and absorbed some of it. We already knew that Ray was a fit, athletic, middle-aged guy with a well-built upper body, and a well-built something else, but clearly, and thankfully, my husband wasn't as mentally prepared as he thought he was.

But instead of turning us around, he put his hand on my lower back and pressed me to walk with him to the table where Ray stood smiling, waving us over. He wore a black, V-neck t-shirt, which fit him tightly, dark jeans, and casual shoes. His light, brown hair was neatly styled with a bit of a fade and some grey at the sides.

My husband and I shook his hand before taking our seats. It was one of the most awkward and most nerve-wracking handshakes of my life. Ray noticed and told us both to relax with a disarming smile. He then ordered two large glasses of red wine and an orange juice for Ricky.

Sitting opposite Ray, a stranger, I kept my shoulders slightly turned toward my husband and gripped his hand tightly under the table. He had his shoulders back, sitting up straight, trying to appear composed. Ray also sat back, studying us without making it too obvious. He was undoubtedly the relaxed one at the table.

"So, Ricky... Jemma," he said once the small talk eventually ran out of steam. "I have a pretty good idea of what you two are looking for from the messages we've exchanged. But now we are face-to-face, and this being the first time you have done something like this, how are you feeling?"

My husband and I looked at each other, both chortling nervously. "We have much to discuss, but I think you're our guy. You know what we want and uh... nothing has changed from my point of view. Jemma?" He looked at me, hoping I'd say the same.

Gobsmacked, I squeezed his hand in an attempt to hurt him, then picked up my glass and took another swig before answering. "The same," I replied, not thinking. I just wanted to get out of there. My cheeks were as red as the dark wine.

Ray wasn't convinced. He smiled at me for a moment. "The same?" He repeated the words back to me in a kind tone.

"She's just nervous," my husband chuckled. "First time meeting and all that. Better to be cautious than overly enthusiastic, right?" He was so blind.

"Nervous is normal. Shy and quiet on a first meet is also normal," Ray said. "But I sense you may not be ready for this. I'm not here to talk anyone into anything they don't want to do. I'm here because the three of us have been clear online, and I'd like to stay clear in person if possible."

He spoke with clarity, politely calling our bluff. Ricky cleared his throat, convinced he still wanted this, while I took a bigger gulp of wine, praying inwardly for this to be the moment his fantasy died on its arse.

"Your words carry more weight than your husband's do right now, Jemma. No offence, Ricky, but your wife is the one who will be in the middle of it all. So, tell me honestly, Jemma, how do you feel now that we have met? Please, be honest."

Feeling under immense pressure, I panicked on the inside but smiled on the outside. Again, without thinking, I kissed my husband on the lips and tried to give a convincing answer. "I do want this. I'll be fine once I'm... actually in the middle of it all," I lied to Ray's face and tensed up, saving my husband's ego for another day.

As much as I didn't want this to go any further, I couldn't embarrass the man I loved in front of anyone, even if I thought he deserved it sometimes. I loved him too much to destroy his confidence in public.

Ray smirked. "Ok then. I'm happy to meet you both again and welcome you round mine for a drink simetime. But I think we should wrap things up for now. Like you said, Ricky, you have much to discuss."

"Good idea," I smiled politely, eager to get back to the car and to breathing normally.

"We'll be in touch. It was great meeting you, Ray," my husband said, grinning.

The three of us stood up and pushed our chairs in before shaking hands once more. I was a little less nervous this time, relieved to be going home. Ray was a nice guy, and yes, incredibly attractive, but I still didn't fancy him the way my husband wanted me to. It just wasn't in me to do so.

"The pleasure has been all mine." Ray smiled at me for longer, and wryly. "Out of interest, where did you park your car?"

"In the multi-storey across the road," Ricky answered.

"Me too. I'll walk with you if that's all right? Jemma, would it be ok if I walk with you?"

"Uh... sure," I shrugged, tensing up again.

As the three of us walked like friends, we discussed how the town was always dead during the weekdays. Ray laughed at showing his age, telling us that he remembered a time when the bars were always full and lively. Then, before parting ways in the multi-storey, he suggested something that made the air freeze.

"No pressure, but I just thought of something. If you both really want to know if this is for you or not, then how about we try a kiss before we say goodnight?"

"What? Like a proper kiss?" I gasped in shock at my husband, blushing crimson.

"Yes, Jemma," Ray chuckled. "Like a proper kiss. But like I said, no pressure."

Glaring at my husband, speechless, I expected him to respectfully decline. "Ray does have a point," he shrugged instead, even though the colour in his face had vanished. "I'm ok with it if you are?"

Oh really, Ricky? I flipped inside, staring at him with genuine scorn in my veins, suddenly feeling the need to teach him a harsh lesson that he would never forget.

"Ok," I too shrugged. "But where? I'm not doing it right here," I said, hiding my anger.

"My car or yours," Ray suggested. "Whichever makes you comfortable."

"Let's do it in our car," my husband cut in, making the decision. I looked at him with a grave warning in my eyes. But he nodded as if to tell me it was going to be fine.

Arriving at our car, I couldn't believe it when he climbed behind the wheel and left me standing outside. Even Ray looked surprised. He opened the back door and smiled at me to get in. I slid slowly across the back seat, beginning to tremble. Ray followed, closing the door behind him.

"Are you ok, Jemma?" he asked with genuine care in his voice.

I nodded, reminding myself I was only doing it to wake my husband from his fantasy stupor. Yet, I couldn't help feeling like a nervous schoolgirl on the backseat with an older boy, only Ray wasn't a boy and I wasn't a schoolgirl. This was real, and my husband was about learn that.

I saw the angst in his eyes as he peered cowardly into the backseat via the review mirror, which did please me some. Come on, Ricky, I stared with pleading eyes, urging him to save me from my own ego.

Meanwhile, Ray was getting ready to move in. My knees were clamped together with the knee-length dress having ridden a little higher, revealing more of my full thighs than I felt comfortable with. He shifted closer, asking if I was ready as he brushed my hair behind my shoulder.

"Just relax, baby," my husband piped up, still looking at us in the rear-view mirror.

Jesus Christ, Ricky! I wanted to scream. What the hell have you done to the man I fell in love with and married? "If you think it's so easy, then why don't you get in the back and kiss him," I retorted harshly.

"Uh?" he chuckled at me like an idiot.

"No thanks!" Ray laughed. We all laughed, which broke the tension a bit. But then Ray cupped my face gently with his right hand. "But he is right, Jemma. Try to relax and remember it's just a kiss."

I breathed anxiously, head nodding, eyes blinking too quickly. Oh my God, this is really fucking happening. Ray kissed my lips softly. Once, twice, three times. My head spun instantly as my husband finally turned around to watch us up close. Then Ray pulled back, giving me some space.

"How was that, Jemma? Happy to continue?" he asked I appreciated him checking to see if I was still consenting.

"Are you ok, baby?" my husband asked hoarsely.

"Yes," I murmured, answering only my husband, but I was too heady to make that clear, so Ray smiled and leaned in again.

"Your lips are so soft," he said, his voice silky smooth before he opened his lips on mine and slid his tongue inside my mouth.

I closed my eyes and made this small, involuntary sound as I kissed him back. Then Ray kissed the side of my face and down to my chin, tilting my head back slightly to kiss my neck. I kept my eyes closed and let out a longer, deeper sigh, followed by a helpless moan as I leaned back against where the seat met the door.

"You smell amazing," he murmured, kissing his way back up to my mouth.

I told myself it was just a kiss. It didn't mean anything other than it excited my husband. But everything was different. His lips, the taste and smell, even the pressure he applied. I wanted to push him away and laugh it off as being silly. I had butterflies inside my tummy and tingles dancing along my spine. I was aroused.

As I became lost in something unexpectedly erotic, Ray cupped my left breast through the black fabric of my dress. I moaned, kissing him a little bit harder. It wasn't supposed to be like this. His hand then boldly travelled down the side of my body and onto my bare thighs.

When his fingers disappeared under the hem, I groaned and parted my knees with anticipation. I also gripped his shoulder, pulling him even deeper into the kiss. But Ray was too experienced, too wicked. He withdrew his hand and pulled away altogether, smirking at my flushed state.

"How was that, Jemma? Was it as bad as you perhaps thought?"

I closed my legs, and sat up quickly, suddenly embarrassed while my husband spun his body around to face forwards, fumbling frantically with his belt and zipper. I wiped my mouth and then started brushing my hair with my fingers, eyes downcast, shifting in the seat, ashamed.

"What about you, Ricky? All good there in the front, my friend?" Ray asked him when I didn't reply, his tone more masculine.

"Never better," my husband chuckled like a fool. "That was hot. Are you ok, baby? Do you need some fresh air?"

"I'll live," I finally spoke, my tone off as I opened the door and climbed out.

Sat in the front passenger seat a few minutes later, lost for words with my hands and knees clamped tight together again, Ray leaned down near the open driver's window and thanked us for a lovely evening, and for trusting him. We left that night with an awful lot to discuss.

Driving home, the atmosphere inside the car was incredibly tense and awkward. I was riddled with guilt, and Ricky couldn't string a coherent sentence together at first. He put a hand on my knee, trying to be the reassuring husband, but I had just kissed another man, let another man put his hands on me, and I had enjoyed it.

"Are you okay? Talk to me. How are you feeling, baby?" he asked quietly.

"Confused," I replied, glancing out the passenger window.

"Did you not enjoy it? Or is it something else? I thought you looked amazing."

I shook my head and rolled my eyes before turning to look at him. "I just kissed another man. Doesn't that bother you?"

"No," he replied without hesitation. "Watching you on the backseat was the hottest thing I have ever seen in my life."

"Wow," I exhaled in disbelief.

"It's ok that you liked it," he said, rubbing my thigh. "That was the best part."

"The best part?" I frowned. "I dread to think what the worst part was for you."

"You still pretending that you don't want this. I get that it's outside the realms of social norms, but come on, Jemma, you loved every second of that kiss with Ray."

My husband was clueless. I burst out laughing, releasing all the pent-up tension and emotion I had been carrying around inside me throughout the entire evening.

"So... was he a good kisser? Better than me?" he joked. It was clearly still a game to him, or maybe he was simply crazy.

I mused for a moment, deciding there was no point in being angry. "Yes, he was a good kisser. Not better or worse... just good. Very good, actually. Happy now?"

"I'm extremely happy," he grinned, finally keeping his eyes on the road and both hands on the wheel. "Does this mean you might want to kiss him again?" He smiled.

"I didn't say that!" I laughed, tapping his arm. "Do you want me to kiss him again? Did it make you hard watching us on the back seat? I saw you putting it away."

My husband chuckled, his cheeks turning red. "I want to see you do more than kiss. But what about you? Do you feel ready?"

"No, Ricky. Kissing Ray was one thing, but..." I paused, unable to say it. "I'm not some kind of sex object in all of this," I said, my voice calm but serious.

"No, you're not a sex object in all of this. You're the leading star. Just think about what might have happened had Ray not stopped when he did. I also saw you... opening your legs for him." He smirked.

"Enough," I snapped, feeling guilty again. But when we arrived home, our combined emotions had us tearing each others clothes off and having wild, passionate sex on the kitchen table, where I somehow agreed to meet Ray once more.

In the cold light of day, I tried to backtrack, only to learn that my husband had messaged Ray when I was in bed asleep. Mentally exhausted from having my concerns constantly minimised to normal first-time nerves and reinterpreted as being part of the erotic tension, I gave in.

One week and three days after that first social meet, after that damn kiss, we were parked outside Ray's house having a moment before going inside. I was sat in the passenger seat with my hair curled and my face made up, wearing an expensive lingerie set underneath a short, black, plunging V-neckline dress, black pointed-toe heels on my feet, displaying a substantial amount of leg and cleavage.

"Take all the time you need," Ricky said, his voice understanding for once. "Remember, you don't have to do anything that you are not comfortable doing. I mean it, Jemma, if at anytime you want to leave, then just say the words."

"Let's just go and meet Ray before his neighbours see us," I sighed. What I really meant was let's just get this over with.

Ray and his lovely home made everything feel too normal for what was going to happen. Low lighting and soft music in the background, and an open bottle of red wine on the coffee table. He poured three glasses, handing mine over first as he took a really good look at me, grinning wide.

"Thank you both once again for coming. You look stunning, Jemma," he complimented, handing Ricky his glass.

Thank you, Ray. You look nice too," I said, being honest but more so polite.

He wore a white, V-neck t-shirt with dark jeans this time. Arms thicker than I remembered. His light, brown hair was the same, neatly styled with that bit of a fade and those grey strands at the sides.

"Take a seat and relax," he gestured to us as he sat in a white, leather armchair.

Knees together, I put my hand behind my dress before I sat down on the sofa. making sure the lace hem didn't go any higher than it already was. I shifted closer to my husband, keeping myself pressed against his side, my right knee touching his left. I just needed to feel him close.

As it did at the bar, the conversation began with easy day-to-day talk like normal friends would do, but Ray's attention kept coming back to me, especially when I took a sip of wine or whenever I crossed my legs to stay comfortable. I studied him closely and felt butterflies in my tummy.

He wanted me. Not on a third or fourth meet. Tonight. In his house. In his bed, with my husband present. I felt it in the pair of them as the talk got round to the lifestyle. Cuckold. Bull. Stag. Vixen. Hotwife. I quivered at the labels. I was Jemma, a professional, married woman.

After the first drink, Ray poured another round while I quickly used the toilet and my husband switched to water. Luckily, there was a toilet downstairs as well as up. Going upstairs would have turned my legs to jelly. I would have never made it, certainly not in high heels. When I returned to the living room, my husband and Ray had cheekily swapped seats.

"It was his idea," Ray laughed, pointing at my husband now sitting in the armchair. "We can swap back if you want?"

"Do you want us to swap back?" Ricky asked, a wry smile across his face.

I hesitated, glancing down at the glass of wine that Ray had just poured for me. "It's ok," I replied, feeling a tightness in my shoulders as I put my hand behind my dress again before sitting next to Ray.

He asked if I was comfortable, if the wine was all right, if the room was too hot or too cold. I told him softly that everything was fine, but my eyes flickered across the room at my husband. He of course continued to read the glances as first-time nerves. But they shouldn't have swapped seats without asking me first.

"You're such a beautiful woman, Jemma. I love how you have curled your hair."

Ray reached up and brushed some of those curls behind my shoulder, slow enough that I should have leaned away. But I didn't, so his hand stayed there, thumb grazing my blushing cheek. Deep down I did not want to kiss him again, let alone have sex with him, or anyone for that matter, yet I knew I wouldn't stop him.

I glanced anxiously at my husband. He simply smiled and nodded his head. My body tensed and my knees trembled. Then Ray leaned in, placing a hand across my bare thighs to stop them from moving.

"Relax. We have already done this bit once before," he whispered. I exhaled nervously and breathed in slowly, inhaling his aftershave, not my husbands.

Our second kiss was just as soft and careful as our first. Testing the waters. But I didn't feel a spark. I was prepared for him this time when I parted my lips and let his tongue inside my mouth. As the embrace went deeper, I started making those quiet, uncontrollable noises again. It scared me, so I quickly broke away to catch my breath, but our foreheads stayed close.

"Are you ok?" Ray asked, his voice kind.

I looked at my husband and asked him the same question. "Are you ok, Ricky?" My voice barely reached him it was so quiet.

"I have never felt better. Enjoy yourself, baby," he replied. "This is for you."

I was suddenly leaning back with Ray on the white, leather sofa, kissing him again. His left hand was on the back of my neck, his right hand on my bare thigh, not moving yet, but it was there, waiting for the right moment. He didn't rush. He simply kissed me for a while before he moved his hand to my waist, gently pulling me closer as our tongues tangled.

To stop myself from having a mental breakdown, I blocked out my husband and just concentrated on the kiss, which unintentionally caused my body to relax. Ray groaned, moving his lips down to my chin and onto the side of my neck, just like he did in the car. I suddenly pulled back.

"God, you're so hot," he breathed, pulling me back in, kissing and nibbling my neck.

This is moving too quickly, I thought, managing to glance over at my husband without moving my head. I couldn't believe it. He was sat there with his eyes fixed on the scene while he caressed his crotch through his jeans. Jesus Christ. He really does want to watch me to do this.

Ray came back to my face and slipped his tongue inside my mouth again, breathing heavily. We both were. Him with lust and me with trepidation. I felt his hand behind my neck go for the zipper on my dress. I panicked instantly but in a polite way.

"Not here," I gasped into his ear. In my head I screamed "no," but it came out completely different. I was so confused.

"Let's go upstairs," Ray said. It wasn't a suggestion; it was him taking control.

I looked at my husband who leapt out of the armchair vigorously, then moments later we were all upstairs in Ray's bedroom. My husband put his hands on my waist, kissing my forehead, whispering in a low, hoarse voice that he loved me more than ever before he took a seat, which looked suspiciously prearranged.

Ray closed the door then stepped to where my husband stood only two seconds ago. "Relax," he said, smiling as he walked me to the foot of his bed.

Oh my God, I thought, swallowing hard. There wasn't a duvet in sight, only a pristine black bed sheet and four pillows with matching black cases. A lamp on either side of the bed lighting the room. On one of the bedside tables was a gold box of condoms. Durex Nude XL. Ray turned my back to the "soon-to-be crime scene" and looked me up and down.

My heart was beating too fast for me to speak out and say we were making a terrible mistake and that I couldn't go through with it. I never meant to let my husband's fantasy come this far, to appease him for as long as I did. I promised myself I would draw a hardline when the time came. Well, that time was now... but I froze when it bloody mattered.

I stood there at the end of the bed with my heart and mind racing, my hands and knees trembling, like I didn't have a choice. Yet, I also knew that if I said "stop" then both Ray and my husband would have listened and respected my decision. I don't know why I couldn't say it, feeling the way I did. I wasn't being forced at all.

"Relax," Ray whispered, placing one hand at my waist while his other took my left hand and lifted it chest height.

He smiled wryly as he brushed his thumb over my wedding ring. He didn't comment on it. He simply turned my hand and planted a soft kiss to the inside of my wrist. I breathed in sharply, feeling a pulse between my legs as he continued kissing.

His other hand slid higher over the curve of my waist, then lower again to the small of my back, where he pulled me closer and stopped kissing my wrist. Our eyes locked for a moment. He looked so calm and relaxed, in control, sexy, while my head was all over the place, trying to think of a painless way out of the situation.

Ray spoke quietly. "You're a beautiful lady, Jemma. Soft and full in all the right places." He then raised his voice. "You're a lucky man, Ricky. I hope you know that."

"You're damn right I do," my husband chuckled with the first hint of nerves.

Ray kissed me again, finding reluctance rather than the spark he was hoping for. "Are you ok?" He paused to check in.

I glanced at my husband who now had his jeans unzipped and his hand inside, groping himself. "Yes," I muttered hopelessly, looking down at the carpet.

"You're tense. Relax," Ray encouraged.

"Sorry," I apologised, even though I had nothing to apologise for. "It's just..."

"Relax, Jemma," he cut in, nuzzling his head lightly against my shoulder, kissing my neck while his hands slid up my back.

Seriously, if someone tells me to relax one more time... I was being compliant. A good wife for my husband. But what I was not going to do was allow myself to enjoy it or put on a fake, sexy performance.

Ray took hold of the zipper at the back of my dress and pulled it down slowly without a moments pause, exposing my bra clasp. Everything he did put me in a deeper state of paralysis. My husband didn't help matters either, freeing his cock and stroking it like he was watching porn.

"Ray..." I croaked, needing to catch my breath. Ricky..."

But neither of them responded. They were feeding their own desires over mine. Point proven when my husband pushed his jeans and boxers down to his ankles as Ray slid the dress off my shoulders and down my body, exposing my black lace bra and full cleavage. I held my eyes shut.

Naturally expecting his hands to grab my large, 36E breasts, I moaned softly when he worked the dress down over my wide hips instead, exposing my black lace panties and thick thighs. I opened my eyes but stared up at the ceiling, praying.

With the fabric pooled at my feet, drowning my black stilettos, Ray took my hand and guided me to step out and forward of the dress. From there, he examined my curvy, feminine figure before turning me around to face the bed.

"You have such a beautiful body," he breathed against my neck, tentatively kissing the sensitive area as his hands slid up from my hips to cup my heavy breasts.

Let me keep my bra on. They look better and firmer in lace than they do out in the open, I wanted to tell him. But as Ray kneaded my breasts through the delicate fabric, I knew my bra was coming off. It was only a matter of time before he did it.

"You have a fantastic arse and set of tits," he groaned his approval, bringing his hands round to cup my buttocks before going higher and unclasping my bra.

I stood feeling helpless and grimaced when my heavy bust dropped two inches. My breathing was shallow and high in my chest. I couldn't believe I was allowing another man to remove my bra in front of my watching husband, who was lazily pleasuring himself just a few feet away.

Standing behind me with his arms reaching under mine, his broad chest against my back, I closed my eyes and exhaled with trepidation as Ray's hands came around and under, taking the weight of my breasts from below. He groaned against my neck as their heaviness finally rested in his palms, the warmth of my skin. I even heard my husband groan.

I sensed what it meant to them both, but they didn't sense or seem too concerned about what it meant to me. My shoulders lifted and tightened, then stayed in that position. I was too nervous to move or breathe while I waited for Ray to maul me. But it never happened. Instead, he supported the weight, cradling the bulk with his palms, squeezing tentatively.

"I got you, Jemma," he whispered. "Let me be the one to show you how sexy you are."

What did that even mean? But once he had said it, I took a longer, deeper inhale, which lengthened when it dropped into my belly. Not by force or by choice, my shoulders softened and dropped slightly as I began to settle and become aroused.

His hands were warm and firm against the soft undersides of my breasts, applying gentle, steady pressure that I wasn't used to. It had been so long since my husband had handled me in that way. Soft and tender. Then his fingers brushed across my very taut nipples before rolling them.

"Ohhh," I eventually sighed, unable to keep it in any longer as he continued to hold my breasts and explore them intimately rather than grope or rush.

But as nice as it was to be held so sensually, helped by the fact I was facing up the bed, with Ray and Ricky behind me, out of sight... they weren't out of mind. I felt profoundly vulnerable with my most softest and heaviest place being caressed by another man in front of my husband.

Unintentionally, my initial fears of Ray manhandling my breasts with the lust of what was technically a one-night stand, I had quickly grown to trust him with my body. Maybe this won't be so bad after all.

"Turn around," Ray instructed gently, already turning me. I saw my husband unashamedly stroking his cock, his eyes brimming with lust and a hint of angst.

Back to instant reality after the sensual breast massage, Ray sat me down on the end of his bed. Instinctively, I cradled my breasts in my arms. I suddenly felt too guilty to look at Ricky for more than a few seconds, and too embarrassed to look at Ray at all, knowing what was coming next.

"Lie back for me, Jemma," he instructed, smiling at my silly attempt to be modest.

If there was ever a moment to draw the hardline I had promised myself, it was right then. Hand on heart, I wasn't the slightest bit aroused. The sensual breast play had admittedly softened my reluctance, but that was long gone now.

Yet, I continued to comply. Legs tightly closed, squeezing my breasts in my arms so they didn't spill, I dug my heels into the carpet and slowly lowered myself backwards until I was flat on the bed with my legs over the edge, eyes on the ceiling.

Ray leaned over me, hooked his fingers inside my black lace panties, and deftly pulled them down my legs and over my shoes. "I can't wait to taste you," he groaned quietly, discarding the last of my clothes, but keeping the high heels on.

"Ohhh, fuck yeah," I heard my husband exhale.

"Move your arms and let us see you in all your glory, Jemma," Ray said, standing in front of my closed, bent knees. I could feel his legs rubbing against them, waiting.

I looked at my husband with wide, blue eyes, seriously concerned, and clearly asking him a question without moving my lips. But he was never going to save me in his state. He looked the most aroused I had ever seen him. He stared back at me, mouth open, nodding his head, answering the question he thought I was asking.

I could almost hear him. "Just relax, baby. You're doing great. I'm so proud of you."

Finally resigning myself to my fate, I removed my arms from my body and placed them at my sides, hands a couple of inches from my hips, fingers clutching the edge of the mattress, looking at Ray.

The hunger in his dark eyes alone could have written a story. I felt a spark for the first time that night, but thankfully, it didn't light up or show up on my face.

Out the corner of my eye I could see my husband with his hand seemingly glued to his cock, watching intently as Ray and I stared into each other's eyes. But I soon lost that focus around me when Ray moved his gaze slightly lower to my breasts, rising and falling as I breathed. I wondered if his heart was beating as hard as mine was, and Ricky's for that matter.

I watched his eyes closely as they followed the curvature of my body. Tracing around the outside of my breasts then inward slightly to my narrow waist, which only appeared narrower than it actually was because of the natural wideness of my thick, shapely thighs.

Once he had scanned my body in the most intrusive fashion, his gaze ended at the top of those tightly closed thighs. He grinned at the dark-brown bush of curls I kept neatly trimmed for my husband. The place I never imagined sharing with another man once I became a loyal Mrs.

"Open your legs for me, Jemma," he said, his voice low but dominant.

The calm, authoritative tone in which he delivered his simple, yet devastating, instruction caused a second spark. It too didn't light up, but it did travel sharply up my spine. When I didn't comply this time, out of pure hesitation, Ray smirked and wedged his fingers between my knees, pulling them apart effortlessly.

"Uhhhh..." I gasped with a mix of fear and uncontrollable excitement.

"Mmm..." he murmured. A little moment of personal triumph for him, I sensed.

He knew I was instantly aware that he knew how wet and swollen I had become. I couldn't control it. As much as I wished to, I had never felt so utterly exposed in all my life before. Another man was looking down at my naked body as if it were being offered to him in need rather than sacrificed for the man getting off behind him. No doubt Ricky shared the triumph.

Ray took his shirt off, revealing his muscular physique and strong arms, then knelt between my spread legs. Embarrass to show my attraction, I looked at my husband, who nodded once more, grinning as he squeezed his cock firmly.

Fingers clutching the end of the mattress with all my strength, I locked eyes with Ricky as, paradoxically, both anticipation and trepidation surged through my veins before I felt Ray's tongue slide up my slit slowly, spreading my wet, sensitive folds.

"Oh," I gasped with a sharp jolt of my hips. My husband exhaled loudly, beaming.

Ray groaned against my pussy, moving his tongue around firmly, making sure no part was left untouched. He then moved my throbbing clit in circles with the tip of his tongue, while he teased my opening with a finger. I bit my lower lip hard, fighting the urge to buck my hips to coax it inside.

"Ahh... fuck..." I whimpered when he pushed it in, sliding his thick finger back and forth, expecting me to finally let go. But when I didn't, he called my husband over, aware that my attention was on him.

"Get over here," he chuckled, but I caught his frustration at needing assistance.

I might have accepted my fate, but I was still being stubborn. My husband's motivation was to watch me lose all inhibitions with another man. But mine was giving him his fantasy. Not out of personal gain or mutual lust. It wasn't mine or Ray's failure that I couldn't climax, it was my mind and body prioritising my marriage... protecting it.

My husband quickly removed his clothes before eagerly arriving at the bed with his erection in hand. He took Ray's place on his knees, encouraging me to close my eyes and concentrate on the sensations. Relieved to have my husband where he belonged, I complied. But then Ray leaned over my body, cupping my breasts as he began to suck on my hard nipples.

It somehow felt safer with the familiarity of my husband. Plus, I couldn't stop nature. My moans naturally became loud and desperate, and my hips were already moving as two men pleasured my body in a way I had only secretly fantasised about, but not since my husband had shared his.

"Oh, God! Yes!" I panted, overwhelmed.

Ray suddenly disappeared, leaving me to enjoy the next few moments with my husband. Eyes closed, body arching off the bed, I suddenly wanted to orgasm. I was desperately chasing it, panting loudly, even though it was already on its way. Any second now. It was right there.

"I got it from here," Ray spoke.

I opened my eyes and looked down my flushed body, wondering why my husband had stopped. He kissed down my thighs, away from the action zone, alternating between the two before he reached my knees and stood up. Looking delighted with my juices around his mouth, he returned to his chair, his cock weeping.

"Make sure you take good care of her," he told a now naked Ray before looking at me. "I love you, baby. Just let yourself go."

What the fuck is happening? I thought, as Ray positioned himself between my legs, only this time he didn't kneel or try to. He held the back of my ankles, spreading my legs much wider when he raised them, smirking directly into my wide eyes.

I realised why he had stopped playing with my breasts and sucking on my nipples. It wasn't so my husband could get me off. It was so he could roll one of those XL Durex condoms over his big cock, and it was big. Eight inches with girth that made me even more nervous. My head was a mess. Up and down like a yo-yo. Now faced with the moment I never believed would come.

I felt vulnerable in a way I never had before, yet I didn't feel unsafe or like I was about to be raped. I could have still said "stop." But once again I stayed compliant to give my husband his ultimate fantasy, even if I saw it as the ultimate sin, having sex with a man who I wasn't married to.

"Close your eyes, Jemma. Don't think. Just feel. I promise to take it easy with you," Ray said, his voice a little more reassuring. I closed my eyes and spread my arms out, gripping the bedsheet, bracing myself. "That's it. And keep your leg raised. It's time to stop pretending."

You don't have to be enthusiastic about this for the experience to be ok, I told myself, keeping my left leg raised when Ray let go off my ankle to hold his cock. But he still held my other ankle up as he rubbed the head of his sheathed helmet along my folds, getting ready to go inside.

Like everything else that night, it felt nice and my body naturally responded positively. How could it not? But my mind was back to being stubborn again. I just didn't want to give myself emotionally to another man. I needed connection not just attraction, and the fact Ray was hung did nothing except worry me.

I kept telling myself repeatedly that I was only doing this for Ricky, because it was true. But I quickly learned that Ray had the patience of a saint and the seductiveness of the devil. The longer he rubbed himself along my slit, teasing my opening, and moving my clit around with his bulbous head, the more I needed him inside me.

I bit my lower lip and squeezed my eyes tighter, but I couldn't stop it from coming out. Low, soft sighs as my pussy just got wetter and more swollen. I could feel the blood rushing down there... and my mind letting go as I focussed on the sensation.

Then Ray positioned himself at my opening, applying teasing pressure before he began to ease his cock into my body. I gasped. How loud I had no idea, and nobody said anything. I didn't hear any noises except for those coming from me.

"Slower," I whispered, more to myself than him. He nodded, almost apologetically, and eased in another inch.

His girth forced my pussy open wider than I was used to, wider than ever before, making me breathe in sharply while he held my left ankle high and wide. He pushed another inch, then another, and another, until half his cock was inside me.

"Ohhh that's a nice fit," he breathed, pausing to let my walls expand.

I could feel him pulsing against the latex. The pressure was intense and relentless. My thighs were trembling and my breathing had become laboured. Needing to decide... completely shut down my body or completely open my mind, I looked at my husband, unsure what to do.

He had pre-come running out the tip of his cock while he stroked the shaft almost in slow motion. He was smiling like I had never seen him smile before, and his eyes looked like he'd just taken a load of happy pills. My reluctance vanished instantly.

My eyes drifted closed and my mind stopped fighting as it became detached. Detached from reality, from whom I thought I was, and from my husband.

"That's it, Jemma," Ray groaned, finally taking hold of my right ankle again before thrusting his hips back and forth, keeping the pace slow without going any deeper.

But as the strokes became smoother, they naturally did go deeper. I gripped the bedsheets with both hands, arching my back as I rolled my hips and panted loudly.

"Uhhh..." I moaned at how thick and amazingly different his cock felt. Then something started happening that had never happened so quickly before. "Uhhh... Fuck... Ray... I'm going to come."

"Do it," he growled. "Oh, those big tits look so good bouncing with me inside you.

He lifted my shaking legs onto his shoulders then slid his arms round, grabbing my breasts with his hands. He squeezed them while his thick cock started reaching my cervix. But the pleasure outweighed the discomfort

"Oh yes. Just like that," I urged, moving my hips in rhythm with his long strokes.

"Is that nice, Jemma? Are you going to come for me?" Ray growled again, sinking his fingers into my soft, yielding breasts.

I nodded, unable to talk. But the answer was a clear yes as he fucked me slow and deep on his bed. A few seconds later, I cried out in ecstasy, experiencing an extremely intense orgasm. Ray kept thrusting at the same pace, taking pride in the pleasure he was inflicting on me.

"Are you ok, baby?" my husband asked, suddenly standing beside the bed, gripping my hand as I came back down to earth. Ricky! Shit! I had forgotten he was in the room watching every single detail.

I opened my eyes as Ray pulled out, tapping his cock against my mound, wetting my pubic curls with my juices. My husband was no longer erect. In fact, his cock had shrivelled up. He looked worried but I didn't understand why that mattered.

"I'm fine," I replied, catching my breath as Ray shifted us up the mattress, climbing on top. "Are you ok?" I asked my husband, letting go of his hand as I slid up the bed.

I wasn't reading the room, and neither was Ray. He settled between my legs and pushed himself inside me again. I let out a deep sigh, wrapping my legs and arms around him, eyes closing for a moment.

"Uh... I just came," my husband confessed meekly.

"Ohhh... go slowly..." I moaned as Ray began to thrust in and out. I couldn't concentrate on two men at once, so I concentrated on the one with his big cock inside me and clenched my pussy hard.

"Grrrr..." Ray growled, his cock buried to the hilt as my husband returned to his seat. "Fuck, your pussy is tight, Jemma."

Wasn't that supposed to be a good thing? I didn't care. I was experiencing the most intense sensations ever inside my pussy as he glided through the warm lubrication I kept producing. Every time he bottomed out my body answered with another helpless clench. I was getting close again.

I opened my eyes and saw that his expression was strained with the effort of holding back. "Are you about to cum?"

"Not if I can help it," he chuckled for a second. "But fuck your pussy is so tight."

"Take it off," I whispered impulsively.

Ray suddenly stopped and stared down into my eyes. "What did you just say?"

"Please," I whispered again, my voice broken like everything else inside my body. "I want to come together. Take it off."

Ray looked shocked for the first time since we had met him. Staying inside me, he raised himself on fully locked arms and glanced over his shoulder at my husband. I couldn't look at Ricky. I just wanted Ray. I ran my fingertips down his strong arms and up his thick chest, feeling his cock twitching deep inside my stretched cavity.

"Ricky?" he called out.

"If that's what she wants," my husband muttered, or at least it was something like that. I suspected he was hard and stroking again, but I didn't want to look. I only wanted to see one man until it was over.

"Are you on the pill?" Ray asked, looking into my eyes again. "In fact, I don't even care if you're not." He pulled out far enough to remove the condom.

"Yes. I'm on the pill," I reassured him.

When he pushed back in, I felt every ridge against my walls and pulled him down on top of me, holding him tight. "Fuck me."

"Yes, I knew you would love it once you got going, but I didn't expect you to be this..."

"Shut up and fuck me," I demanded through a hoarse whisper, locking my legs higher around his waist. I pulled him deeper and raised my hips to meet his thrusts. "Oh yes. Come with me now."

"You're going to make a great hotwife," he grunted, fucking me bareback on his bed.

The difference was incredible. No barrier. Just skin, raw passion, and lust as he pounded my pussy with urgency. I felt him swell and his control begin to waiver.

"Do it," I breathed against his neck, digging my nails into his back and my heels into his tense butt cheeks. "Fill me."

"Grrrr... you horny fucking bitch."

For one last time, Ray drove into my pussy hard and deep, pulsing while strained groans came from his throat. I kept my legs locked around him, milking his sperm as my body convulsed beneath him... with him... until he had spilled every drop.

When it was finally over, he kissed me with a quiet "that was amazing, Jemma." It was mind blowing sex even though we only did two positions. It didn't need to be the Kama Sutra. It already had everything it needed, I realised. But when he pulled out slowly and left me alone on the bed while he left the room, I realised something else...

My husband was fully clothed, looking around the room, lost, unable to look at me for more than two seconds. I was still lying on my back with my knees raised and my heels pressed into the mattress, leaking the evidence of his fantasy onto another man's black bedsheets. The colour of the bedding now making sense.

I was hot and sweaty, my long, brown hair scattered across the pillows that I was resting my head on, and around my shoulders. I had recovered, but the real recovery hadn't even begun. I closed my legs and slipped my naked body down the bed towards where my clothes were.

"Aren't you going to say something?" I muttered, feeling ashamed and dirty as I put my clothes back on as quickly as possible. The wet and sticky sensation running down my inner thighs was already haunting me. My marriage was over.

"Not here. We can talk in the car or when we get home," my husband murmured.

"Ok, I'm ready to leave. I just need to quickly use the toilet first."

Ray entered clothed in a t-shirt and jogging bottoms. He read the situation immediately, but I dashed to the bathroom, where I sat on the toilet for much longer than usual after I'd had sex. I'm sure they spoke, but I never asked.

The drive home was silence all the way. I could see my husband's reflection in the passenger window when we passed streetlights. He never looked at me once. It didn't get any better at home either. He slept in the spare bedroom, his choice, while I cried myself to sleep in our marital bed. Devastated. I needed my husband.

By morning we were on opposite ends of the spectrum. He said he spent the entire night awake, thinking about everything. But I was angry with him now, and myself. How dare he turn his back on me when it was he who wanted this all along. When it was he who had ignored my concerns. But then I blamed myself for not stopping it.

It took me a few days to calm down and for my husband to feel ready to talk like adults. He apologised profusely, determined to put it behind us and move on. I reassured him I wanted the same, not the mad man of the last twelve months.

When I asked what happened to him that night, his shoulders dropped. He said his premature release brought post-nut clarity that he couldn't deal with, and the sight of his wife giving herself to another man was suddenly demoralising. Telling Ray to remove the condom was the final straw, but he had given up by that point.

It hurt to see the man I loved so much look so broken, made worse by the fact that he had brought it all upon himself. I learned something valuable, sometimes a wife must lead from the front and save her husband from himself, no matter how convinced he his of something being ok.

But I too had very naively underestimated the seductive power of his fantasy. To think I could have sex with another man for my husband's kicks, and walk away unchanged, is even more ridiculous than it sounds. A handsome, fit, experienced, well-endowed man too. I never expected my mind and body to shift the way they did. We both wished it had never happened and agreed to put it behind us.

However, two months later, with things appearing to have gotten back to normal on the surface, I found our swingers account was still active. I logged in out of curiosity. It hadn't been accessed since that fateful night with Ray. We also had several messages from the man himself.

He started off by asking if we were ok. He was sorry and concerned about how it ended. His last message wished us well, hoping we found a way to get through it, and that he would take our silence and inactivity as us taking a break while we figured things out. There were messages from others too, but I didn't read them.

Before deleting the account, I had a look at Ray's profile. He had met two mature couples since us, judging by the date on his latest reviews. Jealousy hit me hard, reading another woman's words about how amazing Ray was in bed. I could almost hear the oozing in her words.

As the days turned into weeks, Ricky was still being careful around me. Apologetic without ever saying the words. He avoided the subject now, and whenever I tried to raise it to see how he was coping, he would give me a false smile and say he was fine. It was just an experience, but it was behind us now. No need to bring it up.

I simply nodded, of course. But at night, when Ricky was asleep, especially if we had just finished making love, I would lay awake with the memory of Ray holding my ankles in the air, of him on top of me, deep inside my pussy. The way I had climaxed. The exact moment I told him to remove the condom. The feeling of his warm cum.

Slipping one hand between my legs and the other onto my chest, finding my body always responding to the memory, I would gently and quietly caress myself to orgasm. Living out my husband's fantasy, even reluctantly at the start, had switched something on inside, something his regret alone would never be able to switch off.

I had done it for him. Now I needed it for myself. And the more he wanted to bury it, the clearer my mind became about that need. I had no choice but to try and suppress it. To honour my husband and pour new excitement into our sex life. But Ricky was unable to detach himself from that night, to un-see what he had seen.

Over time the suppression created distance and resentment rather than resolution, especially when I was in a dirty mood. Every time I played up, trying to rile his arousal, he thought I was thinking about Ray. I wasn't until he rejected my advances. He couldn't bare to see me behaving a bit slutty, which wasn't often.

I wasn't asking him to do it again. But to limit the sex we used to enjoy, even before he brought up his fantasy, was totally unfair. Although I never truly believed the experience would make our bond even stronger, he did, and now I knew it might have if he hadn't done a major u-turn.

Eight months later, working away for two days, I was sat alone at the hotel bar, enjoying a glass of Pino Noir when a stranger approached, asking if he could buy me a drink. He smiled at my wedding ring as if he were up for a challenge. I smiled back wryly and accepted a refill.

I was still wearing my professional attire. Black stilettos, a fitted, black peplum dress, and a leather belt with a silver buckle. The outfit was new and complemented my curvy figure. My long, brown hair was swept up into a soft, elegant up-do, twisted and pinned at the back with a bit of volume on top, leaving my neck and shoulders completely bare.

The stranger introduced himself as Richard. What is it with all the men in my life having names that begin with the letter R? He asked what was so amusing. I told him it was nothing then told him my name was Jennifer. I just wanted the company.

He didn't wear a wedding ring himself, and I can't remember if he shared his marital status with me. But I do remember flirting with him the more wine I drank. I didn't even find him that attractive. Richard was much older, fifty maybe, stocky, and a bit chubby, with short, neat, grey hair, clad in a well-fitted suit.

By the time I was halfway through my third glass, we were having genuine fun, talking about life on the road, sharing terrible but funny tales. I only worked away for two days every two months. I used to hate it, being away from Ricky, but now I needed the break from being around his misery.

Then, what started out as two strangers having a drink at a hotel bar, with some flirting sprinkled on top, suddenly turned into a decision. A decision that saw me go up to Richard's room with him. The wine and frustration got me there, but as soon as I stepped inside his room, and heard him close the door, I knew it was wrong.

I apologised and quickly left. Back in my own room, I texted my husband to let him know that I thought we needed couple's therapy. He texted back dismissively, which then escalated into a huge row. The fact that neither of us had the decency to actually make the call instead of carrying on arguing through text said it all.

Without thinking, I returned to Richard's room two floors above. He looked pleasantly shocked to see me again. Full of anger, I walked into his room and turned around to face him when he closed the door. I looked him up and down with a glare in my eyes that told him I wasn't leaving this time. I had decided on how the night was going to end.

"You haven't done this sort of thing behind your husband's back before, have you?" he asked in his deep voice, ginning at me.

"Not exactly," I replied, stepping towards each other.

"I'm not even going to ask what you mean by that," he said, grabbing my waist and pulling me tight against his frame.

"Good, because all I want tonight is to get fucked."

"Then you have come to the right place, Jennifer. "Now, let's get you out of this lovely dress. I'm dying to see you naked."