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By *ollo007 OP Man
2 weeks ago
Pontefract |
So, I have a strange but unique opportunity that has the potential to backfire.
I’ve been with my wife for over 25 years, and our relationship has never been typical. When I was 16, I moved with my mother to a town a few hours away from where I live now. I quickly became friends with a group of lads aged between 17 and 20, and also with a woman who was 28 and married.
That alone struck me as unusual, but she was cool, and her husband was happy for us to hang out at their house while he was at work. Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for me to realise that all five of my friends were fucking this man’s wife at every opportunity they got.
I was a virgin at the time and assumed that a married woman ten years older than me would never be interested in someone like that. Even if I’d had the courage to make a move, I imagined her laughing at me and my mates taking the piss until they got bored of it. I also told myself I was friends with both her and her husband, and that was another reason I wouldn’t fuck her.
Fast forward about a year. After far too many vodkas celebrating a mate getting his own bedsit, I ended up losing my virginity to this married woman after being the first of the five of us to do so that night, and also the last. Cleaning up after myself and four mates with a married woman a decade my senior definitely wasn’t how I’d imagined my first time.
After that, I slept with her every chance I got, joining my friends in the race to be first whenever we had the opportunity. We even had a few MFM sessions when I arrived first and two of the lads (on different occasions) weren’t willing to wait their turn.
Over time, I started getting jealous. Not just of my friends, but of her husband too. One night I admitted to her that I thought I was falling in love with her. She told me not to say that but I noticed soon after that she stopped fucking the other lads. That caused a lot of piss taking toward both of us: me for thinking she’d ever be faithful, even if she left her husband, and her for potentially swapping a mortgage on a nice house and a well paid (if cuck) husband for… me.
One night, after coming home from a night out with her and her husband, I was invited back to theirs for a kebab and a go on the PlayStation. After eating, the husband said he was tired and going to bed. I stood up to leave, and she got up to follow him. That always happened when he went to bed—he said it was because we couldn’t be quiet, though I always suspected he knew what was happening and was willing to turn a blind eye, just not under his own roof.
This time, though, to my delight, he said I could stay because I was obviously enjoying the game, just had to be quiet.
About fifteen minutes later, I started running my hand up her thigh. She shouted her husband’s name.
No answer.
“Get in,” I thought.
She did it again, louder. I cringed and crossed my fingers.
Still nothing.
Then she got up, walked to the bottom of the stairs, and shouted again.
Still nothing.
For the next half hour, I lay on the sofa with my cock out, fucking her from behind while we spooned, her skirt pulled up. She kept saying he could come down at any moment, that the stairs were squeaky and we’d hear him, giving us time for me to fasten my jeans, grab the joypad, and unpause the game while she pulled her knickers up and straightened her skirt.
Eventually, I persuaded her to sit on the arm of the couch. I took her knickers off, opened her legs, and ate her pussy for a while. That became—and still is—my favourite sex act with a woman. The wetter, the better, and she was absolutely soaked.
I got her so horny that we ended up naked on the living room floor. I fucked her in every position I’d ever seen in a porn movie. Between how much we’d d*unk and the excitement of her husband asleep upstairs, I came seven times—still a personal record. She came four times and said that was her record too.
After the seventh time, she checked the time, realised it was getting light outside, and said I had to go. I begged for one more. She agreed.
This time, we were locked in a 69, my face buried in her pussy, when I heard a deep voice shout:
“What the fuck!”
Before I could even get one leg into my jeans and make a dash for the door, she ran off naked and locked herself in the bathroom. I got the beating of my life from a guy ten stone heavier than me and built like a brick shithouse.
Honestly, it was deserved and completely understandable.
To this day, we still wonder whether he’d deliberately baited the trap. He never went to bed without asking us to leave. If it had been me, I’d have given us just enough time to get into it before springing it—not waited hours. Maybe he really did just wake up… or maybe he’d been sat outside the door wanking, because we never heard the stairs.
In the end, he gave her an ultimatum:
Either stop seeing me and staying in a bedroom sharing a bottom bunk with me and a bedroom with my brother and stay with him, and sell the house, sell his business, and move to another country (Australia was mentioned).
She chose me.
Everyone told me I was stupid but nearly 30 years later, we’re still together, and I can confidently say she has never cheated on me.
We had a fantastic sex life. Honestly, probably what most straight men dream of. We averaged sex about four times a week, and roughly once a month we had another woman in our bed for a threesome, usually arranged by her through our shared Fab Swingers account.
I suggested another guy joining us a few times, saying it wouldn’t be fair to deny her if she wanted that. She was a hard no every time. She did, however, often say she wanted to see two guys fuck.
At the time, I’d had one experiment with a guy back in school and knew I had an interest in cock but I wouldn’t admit it to myself, never mind my wife. So I always refused.
She’d tease me by trying to slip a finger into my ass while suggesting another guy as we were fucking. One day, instead of pulling away, I let her do it. She only put the tip in, then stopped and said she enjoyed teasing me, but it definitely wasn’t something she wanted to watch. I’d called her bluff, and the finger and talk of another guy never came up again.
Fast forward to mid 2020. She started the menopause. I suggested HRT a few times, but it’s her body and her decision. Sex dropped to birthdays, Christmas, and one holiday in 2020… to zero by late 2021. She also asked me to delete our Fab Swingers account.
After a particularly nasty argument fueled by drink, I stormed off to my dad’s, got pissed in the spare room, and created a bi curious Fab Swingers account. I’d noticed that as sex dried up, I was watching more bisexual porn. I thought maybe I’d just have some sex chat and swap dick pics with a guy at most.
Things went very differently.
At the suggestion of a guy who lived on the next street, I met him, and since then I’ve been slowly ticking off my gay bingo card.
Which brings me to last night.
I was horny, d*unk, browsing on here, and decided to have a quick look on Fab Swingers. I got a wink from a brand-new profile: no pictures, local, can accommodate, bi curious, “looking to try it for the first time.”
The username stood out immediately. It was a nickname a play on the name of my wife’s ex-husband. A nickname I’d only ever heard him use.
Coincidence?
Then I checked the age. Same as his.
But it couldn’t be him. He lived hours away… right?
Out of curiosity, I messaged him. I told him I was relatively new to cock myself, that I’d been in his position a few years ago, but took the plunge and hadn’t looked back. I said the only downside of gay sex was that I couldn’t get enough of it because I’m married. I suggested adding pictures and getting verified, explaining I don’t meet unverified guys it’s just a rule I set myself and nothing personal. Then I wished him luck.
He logged off. I forgot about it.
This morning, I checked my messages and saw a reply.
It was a photo: naked from the waist down, cropped just below the chest, sporting a six-inch but very girthy hard-on. He was standing in front of what looked like bare brickwork.
I remembered my wife is friends with him on Facebook. I checked his profile. His last post said, “Got my work cut out for me—weekends are busy for the foreseeable future,” with a photo of a room stripped back to brick.
In the comments, someone asked what he was doing. He replied that he’d bought a house and it needed a lot of work before he could move in.
Then someone asked where.
It’s in my town.
So now I have a decision to make. I could pursue this (he can accommodate) but it risks my marriage. He’s single now and absolutely not the type who wants his mates in the pub knowing he’s into cock.
When he and my wife first reconnected on Facebook, she told me straight away. He’d asked her to check whether I minded them speaking. We exchanged messages, apologised to each other, and he said the fact we were still together meant more to him than if we’d just been fucking. He even said he wouldn’t have had his son from his second wife if not for me.
They were together ten years, and he admitted he loved her even after catching us.
So there’s a very real chance this could backfire… especially if he decides to tell her about my love of cock.
Which would be a hell of a plot twist, to be fair. |
