Tell Me About It

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I never thought she would actually go through with it.

That’s what I tell myself, at least.

It was one of those things where you just keep nudging things on a little. Would you go this far? Would you go this far? Well, if you went that far, then maybe you would...?

And she did.

With that guy. The one she’d mentioned a few times in the past. One of her old college friends, the one who gave her that dreamy look whenever she mentioned his name.

Bradley. What kind of a name is that? The kind that’s nearly always attached to a square jaw, an athlete’s physique and dreamy, brooding eyes. Whenever I pictured him it was as that brain surgeon out of Grey’s Anatomy. McDreamy.

So. McDreamy Bradley and Lucy, my wife.

I never thought they would, but then I can hardly claim not to have encouraged it, and I can hardly claim that I didn’t enjoy the thought of it either.

§

It just started as a bit of fun.

We like to share our fantasies. Talking dirty. Getting off on what’s in each other’s heads.

Lucy likes me to tell her about some of my own past exploits. It’s not about the names and identities. It’s more about the scenarios: a genuine scene we can talk ourselves into. So I tell her about incidents like that dinner party where my then-boss’s wife was clearly offering up more than dessert. That initial shock when I realized the knuckles brushing my thigh under the table weren’t accidental. When she leaned into me, laughing at some innocuous joke, balancing herself by slipping a hand onto my thigh. Fingertips pressing in, pulling my pants tight. Squeezing.

There’s a reason that’s the anecdote that comes to mind first of all. There was a moment when we were still around the dinner table and Julie’s knee was pressing against mine. She’d already done the knuckles-brushing thing and the squeeze at the top of the thigh thing, and then the eye contact over her wine glass thing and... well, there was no mistaking the hand placed firmly on my crotch, or the little smile she gave when my response became immediately obvious.

But that moment I’m talking about. It was when her husband looked across and met my eye. Frazier, my boss. CEO of the business consultancy that had headhunted me only a few months before.

He’d raised an eyebrow, smiled, and Julie had slid her hand into my lap again, instantly finding my, by now, towering erection.

He knew. Frazier knew. And he liked it.

And so now that I’m happily married to Lucy and we like to talk rude and dirty, I tell her how all Julie wanted that evening was to get me alone so she could drop to her knees before me while I fucked her face, rough and savage and urgent. How she’d pulled my hands up to her head so I was holding her by the hair. And then how when she’d sensed me about to come she’d pulled away and finished me with her hand so that my semen spat all over her face, covering her in sticky, glistening trails.

I knew she would tell him all about it. That was the thing for them: they both got off on her going out and, well, doing what she did. I wondered how many of the other guys from work had shot their load all over her like this.

And then, one time with Lucy, in the afterglow of a hot and steamy session, I’d told her how beautiful she was, how she could easily go out and pursue her fantasies if that’s what she chose to do. “You could go out there and have any man you like,” I told her.

Maybe that was the seed. The starting point from which everything else followed.

§

It came out of the blue, a few weeks later.

Lucy was away at some trade show or other. Nothing unusual in that. It was a normal part of her work.

The only difference this time was that, purely by chance, she spotted Bradley at the bar one evening and used him to escape a really dull business conversation. It was the first time she’d seen him in years.

She called me that night. At first she only mentioned the encounter in passing, but I could tell she was holding back so I pressed her. She had that tone of voice that goes with the dreamy expression.

What does that do to a guy, hearing his wife talk like that?

Up until now it had only been fantasy, a bit of talk between the two of us. It’s hot to know that your lover is attracted to other people, that she daydreams about what she might do with them. But it’s only fantasy. It’s not risky. It’s not the kind of scary that makes your balls retract and your breath catch in your throat when your wife is more than 200 miles away and you ask, “So you flirted with him?”

She tried to dismiss it, said they’d just caught up over drinks, so I told her, “It’s fine, Lucy. Really. I’m not precious. I’m not the jealously protective type, you know.” I tried to sound confident and calm. Tried not to reveal how anxious I suddenly was. I’m ten years older than Lucy. She really could go out and have whoever she wanted if that’s what she chose to do. The thought of losing her was terrifying.

“We did,” she told me. “Flirted. Just a bit.”

I had to dig further. I needed to know what they’d said, how far it had gone... How it had felt to be flirting with... another man.

As I started to tease the story out of her the mood shifted. A new tension in her voice, a hesitancy.

How far had they taken things?

I could tell she was aroused as she spoke to me. Was she imagining, or remembering?

“I’m thinking how he looked,” she told me now. “How he looked at me. Hungry for me. Eyes all over me.”

I could understand that. Lucy goes through periods when she has no confidence in her looks, when she’s far too aware that while her friends tend to be thin as sticks she’s a real woman with curves. For some reason she feels self-conscious about that, but when I look at her I always stop in my tracks and count my blessings. I love the lines and curves of her, the feel of her, the shapes she makes.

She surprised me then by asking what I was doing. “Is this turning you on? Where are your h

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Written by Sadie Somerton
Cargado December 2, 2021
Notes I never thought my wife would actually go through with it. That's what I tell myself, at least. It was one of those things where you just keep nudging things on a little. Would you go this far? Well, if you went that far, then maybe you would...? And she did. Tell Me About It: A cuckolded husband's story of his wife's with male and female friends as he looks on.
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