My wife fucks other men sometimes. Not often, though I don't complain. More than most wives do! lol. Sometimes, when she is in a hot spell, she has been very wild and wanton. But other times, she is shy about doing anything very wild, and just wants to have romance, viewing things that excite me as being too "pornographic" for her taste. This means she has never allowed me to watch, or even for the other man to know that I know. Just having them know seems to her to be "perverted". It's not, and she knows this, because she doesn't consider either of us to be perverts, and often says how we shouldn't follow the rules others set up for us. But in reality, she worries what others will think, or say, about her.
Like so much in this thing, it is rife with contradiction. For example, she recently had a lover whom she encountered and met regularly in a club devoted to her particular ethnic community (Russian). At the Russian Club, she was hardly what you would call discrete. It was an open secret that she was with him. No one "knew", strictly speaking, but they all (correctly) assumed it to be so. They danced and flirted openly and even in the photos I saw of her that she posted online, their body language told the tale. He would call her, at home, at all hours, and talk to her, sometimes in very graphic terms, while I was at home. Never even asking if I knew or what did I think. But neither of them wanted it to be acknowledged that I knew. It's complicated stuff!
I love her playing alone. I have had experience in the past with watching, and I love it, but the imagined images are generally even hotter than IRL. Plus the powerlessness to stop it, the knowing that she can really cut loose and give herself to another man when alone with him, in a way that would be difficult or impossible with me as an audience. Hot. But yeah, I'd still like to watch. To see his cock inside her, to watch her cum on it and all the other naughty things.
For some reason, what really turns me on is the idea of it happening more or less organically, spontaneously. Perhaps alluded to as a possibility, but not knowing how it will play out, and then having it unfold slowly. The whole time, right up until it happens, none of us being sure whether it will, but realizing that things are getting hot.
My fantasy of how that might unfold is vague in certain places. For example, how it starts. So I'll start from the point where he is at our home somehow. I know she "likes" him and has sometimes talked about how she wants him sexually, but knowing her, she shies away from full admission because she doesn't want any possibility that he would reject her while she is wanting him. So she plays it cool. Still, she has admitted to me, perhaps during our hot pillow-talk, how she wouldn't mind to fuck him, and how she knows he wants her. This part has actually happened, with various men, and without it ever progressing to their intimacy, so that is quite real to me.
Somehow, he ends up at our home for dinner. Maybe we needed help with some task, and he agreed to come help me move some furniture, or to do a repair that is beyond my scope. Something like that. And by way of showing appreciation, we invite him to stay for dinner and drinks. None of us are big drinkers, so it is noteworthy to me that she is having a couple of drinks. She is nervous, and instinctively knows this will settle her nerves, and also that it will give her an "excuse" for any naughty behavior. If he reacts negatively, she can play it off as if she were just too buzzed. She also knows it will lower his inhibitions as well, and give him the same excuse. And yet, she is mindful not to overserve him in a way that might impair his ability or desire.
We enjoy a nice dinner and clear the table. I mix up a pitcher of margaritas and we're all getting a pleasant buzz. She has been learning to dance two-step and invites him to try. He says he doesn't know how, but she offers to teach him. In fact, I help her, by demonstrating what we have learned together, and now she invites him to try, which he does. We're all having a good time with it. I'm running the music, so I put on a slow song, and then excuse myself to the restroom, pausing to dim the lights a bit on my way. As I return, I make enough noise to warn them both, and stop off in the kitchen to refill the pitcher.
When I return, I see that they both look a little bit "guilty", for lack of a better word. But ignore it. Maybe they are, probably they aren't, and it's just in my mind. Or theirs.
They take a break from dancing and we return to the table to enjoy our drinks, and I break out a deck of cards. We begin to play a Russian card game (durak), which is simple but fun. Every Russian knows this game and plays it. The unusual feature of this game is that there is no winner to the game, only there is one loser (the durak, or "fool"). In some circles, a condition of the game is that the fool of each round will have to perform some act of foolishness. Maybe sing a silly song, or whatever. Which has always struck me that the game would be perfect as a strip card game. Which I'm sure it sometimes is!
For some reason, the idea of strip poker always thrills me. From an early age. I think it is about the uncertainly of where it is leading, since in most cases, I think it starts as a sort of "dare", and if my own limited experience, people generally chicken out once it starts to become truly "interesting." It is therefor riddles with sexual tension, along with uncertainty. Perhaps hope for some, dread for others, and a degree of nervousness for almost all. (continued)
Like so much in this thing, it is rife with contradiction. For example, she recently had a lover whom she encountered and met regularly in a club devoted to her particular ethnic community (Russian). At the Russian Club, she was hardly what you would call discrete. It was an open secret that she was with him. No one "knew", strictly speaking, but they all (correctly) assumed it to be so. They danced and flirted openly and even in the photos I saw of her that she posted online, their body language told the tale. He would call her, at home, at all hours, and talk to her, sometimes in very graphic terms, while I was at home. Never even asking if I knew or what did I think. But neither of them wanted it to be acknowledged that I knew. It's complicated stuff!
I love her playing alone. I have had experience in the past with watching, and I love it, but the imagined images are generally even hotter than IRL. Plus the powerlessness to stop it, the knowing that she can really cut loose and give herself to another man when alone with him, in a way that would be difficult or impossible with me as an audience. Hot. But yeah, I'd still like to watch. To see his cock inside her, to watch her cum on it and all the other naughty things.
For some reason, what really turns me on is the idea of it happening more or less organically, spontaneously. Perhaps alluded to as a possibility, but not knowing how it will play out, and then having it unfold slowly. The whole time, right up until it happens, none of us being sure whether it will, but realizing that things are getting hot.
My fantasy of how that might unfold is vague in certain places. For example, how it starts. So I'll start from the point where he is at our home somehow. I know she "likes" him and has sometimes talked about how she wants him sexually, but knowing her, she shies away from full admission because she doesn't want any possibility that he would reject her while she is wanting him. So she plays it cool. Still, she has admitted to me, perhaps during our hot pillow-talk, how she wouldn't mind to fuck him, and how she knows he wants her. This part has actually happened, with various men, and without it ever progressing to their intimacy, so that is quite real to me.
Somehow, he ends up at our home for dinner. Maybe we needed help with some task, and he agreed to come help me move some furniture, or to do a repair that is beyond my scope. Something like that. And by way of showing appreciation, we invite him to stay for dinner and drinks. None of us are big drinkers, so it is noteworthy to me that she is having a couple of drinks. She is nervous, and instinctively knows this will settle her nerves, and also that it will give her an "excuse" for any naughty behavior. If he reacts negatively, she can play it off as if she were just too buzzed. She also knows it will lower his inhibitions as well, and give him the same excuse. And yet, she is mindful not to overserve him in a way that might impair his ability or desire.
We enjoy a nice dinner and clear the table. I mix up a pitcher of margaritas and we're all getting a pleasant buzz. She has been learning to dance two-step and invites him to try. He says he doesn't know how, but she offers to teach him. In fact, I help her, by demonstrating what we have learned together, and now she invites him to try, which he does. We're all having a good time with it. I'm running the music, so I put on a slow song, and then excuse myself to the restroom, pausing to dim the lights a bit on my way. As I return, I make enough noise to warn them both, and stop off in the kitchen to refill the pitcher.
When I return, I see that they both look a little bit "guilty", for lack of a better word. But ignore it. Maybe they are, probably they aren't, and it's just in my mind. Or theirs.
They take a break from dancing and we return to the table to enjoy our drinks, and I break out a deck of cards. We begin to play a Russian card game (durak), which is simple but fun. Every Russian knows this game and plays it. The unusual feature of this game is that there is no winner to the game, only there is one loser (the durak, or "fool"). In some circles, a condition of the game is that the fool of each round will have to perform some act of foolishness. Maybe sing a silly song, or whatever. Which has always struck me that the game would be perfect as a strip card game. Which I'm sure it sometimes is!
For some reason, the idea of strip poker always thrills me. From an early age. I think it is about the uncertainly of where it is leading, since in most cases, I think it starts as a sort of "dare", and if my own limited experience, people generally chicken out once it starts to become truly "interesting." It is therefor riddles with sexual tension, along with uncertainty. Perhaps hope for some, dread for others, and a degree of nervousness for almost all. (continued)
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