Fay, The Real Deal 3.9/5 (29)

I imagine that most horny husbands are a lot like me. We have this fetish of wanting to show and maybe, share the wife. But while wives often play along, few deliver the goods. The following is a brief, but true, account of how we crossed the threshold.

I started photographing my wife in lingerie and tits out before we married. She was divorced and couldn’t get enough cock. I was quite willing.

As time went by, we had opportunities to get away. While on vacation, she would dress up for me and I would sometimes get photos. I have accumulated a fair library. Like most guys, I would talk dirty to her, telling her that I wanted her to show off for other guys.

This evolved into sharing fantasies. Even though she went along, after sex, she would say, you know, this is just make-believe, I would never do it. You are the only one I want to have sex with.

I didn’t hold out much hope, but, man, did it make my dick hard to imagine her showing, touching, maybe giving head.

On one trip to New Orleans, we stayed at a big, plush hotel in the Quarter in a room with windows that faced a courtyard. Lots of other rooms on the other three sides face our window. Fay dressed up for me and I stood naked in front of the open window while she gave me head. Then I bent her over and fucked her from behind with her tits swinging out of her shelf, open bra. She loved it.

Fay has traveled for business and when on trips we would talk dirty on the phone and each masturbate on our end. I began to tell her that I wanted her to just pick some guy and suck his dick, then come home and tell me about it. I went so far as to try to find guys in her destination cities that I could set up. Never happened, but I really got off on it.

As time went by, Fay became less confident about her body. I had to beg her to pose. I would offer her trades to get her to do it, which worked pretty well. She always asked me to erase the pictures. I confess: I lied about that.

Everything changed when one of her customers started to come on to her. That’s a separate story, but it lead, over a years time, to a big break through. This guy, let’s call him Art, stated talking dirty to Fay, focusing on eating her pussy and being his whore.

It really got her wet, and that started the ball rolling. She called me after the first time and was feeling guilty. I told her that it made me very hot and that I was stroking myself. She did the same and we both got off, big time.

I made it a point to track Art down. I obtained his email address and wrote him. We became partners in crime. Fay had told me that he was not very good looking. I didn’t see why that should be a problem. If anything, it made me feel more secure. Anyone going down this road HAS to consider that playing could ruin their marriage. Fortunately, we have a solid relationship.

To say that Art was interested would be an understatement. He told me how excited he was to have sex with Fay. We began a correspondence and traded photos. I started slow and ramped up to more revealing, even explicit photos.

Finally, we had a chance to meet, the three of us. Fay and I talked about her fucking him, but, as usual, after sex she would deny that it would ever happen. Still, we packed the whole sex outfit, garter belt and stockings, cupless bra lingerie.

We met Art at the hotel where he and I hit it off like old friends. I could tell he was keyed up, but I was playing it cool. He booked a room in the same hotel, just in case.

Fay and I had sex before going out to dinner with him, she dressed in her sluttiest outfit. While I played with her, I suggested that we call Art and invite him up. Her pussy was flowing like I had never seen it. But she demurred.

We cleaned up, met Art for a drink, and went out to the restaurant. Whenever he left the table, Fay asked me what I though and I told her that Art wanted to fuck her in the worst way and that I was all for it. She said no way. When Fay visited the ladies, Art asked me if it was going to happen and I had to tell him that I doubted it.

Art was pouting when Fay returned from the ladies. We continued to talk and then went back to the hotel, each to our own room. Fay and I started fooling around, and again, I suggested that we call his room and have him join us. She just wasn’t ready. The standing photo in part one is from that night.

We returned home and continued the sex talk, including her talking on the phone with Art. Invariably, she would get hot after a call, and even got herself off during the calls. I continued to correspond with Art and sent him more photos. He agreed that it was just a matter of time before her curiosity got the better of her.

I’d like to point out that Fay and I had many conversations about the whole idea. I explained to her that, in my mind, it wouldn’t be cheating because I was a willing participant and we were having no secrets. I stressed how much I loved her, how sexy she is,

and that it made more sense to enjoy opportunities in our sex life while we had the most options. Approaching 50, Fay is in great shape and attracts plenty of attention. I explained that the next 10 years would probably be prime time for sexual adventures.

Almost six months went by and we had a chance to return to Chicago, Art’s home area. Fay kept asking me if I was sure that I’d be ok with it and that she couldn’t really commit until the moment of truth. Little did she know that I had the advantage of conspiring with Art in our private communications to make everything fit together well.

Due to Fay’s hesitation, I suggested that we plan to meet Art for drinks and dinner at a restaurant, and then hire a limo to pick us up. We could ride around in the back and play. I told her that she didn’t have to have sex with Art.

I asked Fay if she would just wear something sexy that would allow easy access to her body so that she could show her tits and maybe just let Art touch her, suck her nipples, and maybe, if she was up to it, give Art a blow job. She was nervous about it but agreed.

Fay spent hours working on just the right outfit to pack. We headed to Chicago where she had business again, and made plans to get together with Art for dinner. He already knew the whole plan and agreed not to push the envelope.

The ensemble that she chose was a cupless bra with a button up jacket over it. She wore pants, having declared that her pussy was off limits. Needless to say, I was fine with the arrangement. Frankly I had no real idea how I would react. My expectation was that we would go as far as we both felt was comfortable, and avoid any surprises.

The best laid plans sometimes go awry. We enjoyed dinner. Fay drank way more than usual and was already feeling Art’s leg under the table. We finished, paid the check and walked out to the street where the limo was waiting.

I was disappointed by the layout. In my mind, the car would have two bench seats facing each other. I failed to ask and we found that in between the two bench seats was ten feet of space occupied by a long bench seat facing the curb. It doesn’t sound like a big deal, but it didn’t fit my plan, which was to help Fay expose herself to Art while he sat across from us.

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