My wife is a beautiful, petite, fit woman in her early 40s and while I have always thought she was gorgeous she’s never felt of herself as being anything special. I told her I could prove my opinion correct in one single night and I did. We went out to a bar where she pretended to be single and waiting for a girlfriend. She flirted with and got hit on by a guy and had a couple of drinks with him, but nothing more. It was a did a lot for her self-perception and we ended up together at home enjoying some hotter-than-normal sex. No harm, no foul.

A week or so later, she started flirting with me and telling me how much she enjoyed getting me worked up and how hot the sex was afterwards. I agreed and said I thought it was better because she was running a little hotter than normal too, thanks to the guy she was flirting with. She asked if we should do it again and, this time, leave open “all possible outcomes.” Asking for clarification, she said let’s just leave open all possible outcomes as it would add to the butterflies and excitement. She also added that she did not expect anything more than last time to happen. I agreed and we made plans to go to the same bar again on Friday night.

We arrived separately a few minutes apart. I walked in first and saw that the place was a little more occupied than before. As I searched for a spot on the opposite side of the room, I spotted one empty spot at the bar providing a good view of the entrance. The buzz of conversation and laughter provided a suitably distracting background for what was about to unfold.

My wife strode confidently in the door a few minutes later wearing a short, black cocktail dress and carrying a small sparkly clutch. The thin black shoulder straps of her dress and sparkling diamond necklace provided an alluring contrast when set against her smooth olive skin. Moving to an open spot opposite me (but without acknowledging me), she smiled warmly and greeted the bar tender. She placed her drink order and engaged in some banter with a couple of female customers nearby who had commented on her dress shortly after she arrived. After a few minutes and some jovial conversation with another male customer, the bartender returned with her drink in hand and she began to sip on it.

Less than five minutes later, in walks the same younger, obviously professional, tall, Italian or Greek guy that she had flirted with the last time we did this. Against my hopes, he scanned the room and quickly spotted her. He quickly turned to her and smiled. Returning his smile, she looked at the open spot next to her and then back at him and smiled again. They quickly caught up and were enjoying themselves. First, one drink. Some laughs. Then another. More laughs and the body language started to open up. First, it was a gentle brush of her arm. Next it was her touching and squeezing his hand when she was making a comical point. As they began a third drink, her right hand disappeared under the bar, soon followed by his left hand. I could only presume they were touching each other’s legs.

Feeling that this had gone far enough, I texted her from my burner number which was programed into her phone under a female friend’s name. She looked at her phone and placed it face down on the bar, continuing her conversation and drink. Waiting a few minutes, I texted again. The second text goes unread. A few more minutes, a third goes unread. By this point, I was starting to get annoyed.

As I plotted my next move to get her attention, I saw her pick up her phone and excuse herself to go to the bathroom. No sooner had she disappeared down the hallway than my phone was buzzing from an incoming text. “I love you. Go home. I will be home later.” Flummoxed, I immediately responded with “Why? What’s going on? What are you doing?”. There was no response for what seemed like an hour but was probably about two minutes. “I am not sure what I am doing. But anything is a possibility, as we agreed. I am about to leave. I will see you at home.”

Less than ten seconds later, she appeared from the hallway, smiling and walking quickly toward her companion who was busy settling their tab. As she approached, he stood and touched her shoulder, guiding her towards the door. As their backs turned toward me, my stomach churned and my heart sank, jealous at the thought of what my wife might do, given our agreement, and fearful of the emotions I would feel when I would next see her.

I quickly motioned for my tab, but the bar tender was occupied with another customer and it took several minutes. Settling my tab, I quickly headed for the door. Stepping out into the night, my wife and her companion were already headed for an unknown destination to partake in events I didn’t dare let myself think about in too much detail. The situation being what it was, I glanced at my watch and called for an Uber just after 10:00 PM and headed home.

Home was a dark, quiet and forlorn place as I entered alone. The only sound was the dripping faucet in the powder room that my wife had failed to turn off completely as she washed her hands on the way out the door. As I turned off the faucet, I couldn’t help but wonder what her hands were doing at that very moment.

I nervously took a shower and tried to read a book. Unable to concentrate, I tried to watch a late-night comedy show, but didn’t find it funny. Irritated, I moved to the living room and poured myself a scotch. Pacing back and forth, the time passed slowly and my concern and worry only grew. A little after 1:00 AM, I thought about texting just to check but I knew that a non-response would push me to another level of worry so I continued to pace, allowing the thoughts to run wild in my mind.

Is he kissing her right now? Is she enjoying it? Are his hands on her breasts right now? Is she sucking his cock? Is it big? Is her pussy wet? Have they gotten past all the foreplay? Is she on top of him right now? Is he going to cum inside her? Is she having an orgasm? Is she moaning his name? What the fuck is happening!?!?!?!? Will she tell me? Do I even want to know the details???
As my mind raced, the emotions swirled and the minutes passed until, suddenly, I heard the back door open and the sound of my wife’s heels striking the tile in the foyer. I heard the door close behind her and the sound of the shoes dropping on the floor. I knew she would soon walk into the room. Playing it cool, I sat down in a chair facing the doorway from which I knew she would emerge. As her footsteps grew louder, my heart raced with anticipation.

When she appeared, what a sight she was! Her hair was mess. Her makeup was done. Her lipstick was completely gone; she looked sweaty, tired and spent. I stood to greet her and ask generically if she had a nice time. She did, she said. As I got closer to her, I could smell a mixture of a man’s cologne intermingled with the sweet smell of her perfume and she smelled hot – like sex—and it excited me. I told her I had been waiting for her all night and that she was the sexiest woman I had seen all evening.

Taking her in my arms, I gave her a deep kiss, the smell of her companion’s cologne filling my nose as I got closer to her. Let’s go to bed, I said, and guided her toward the bedroom. She said she needed a shower and I offered to help her out of her dress. As I unzipped her dress and slid the straps over her shoulder, I began to kiss her shoulders and her back. As her dress hit the floor, I started to unsnap her bra and cup her breasts in my hands. By this time, she turned around to kiss me and started rubbing my cock through my pants. It was already hard as I pushed her back towards the bed.

“But I am dirty…. I need a shower!” “No, you are perfect. I want to fuck you right now!” As I pulled her black panties off, I could see that they were wet in the crotch. Her pussy lips were puffy and open from the recent activity. I didn’t hesitate. I pushed her legs back, pulled out my cock and plunged it inside of her. As she began to pant, I asked her if he had fucked her like this. She said yes. Was it good? Yes! I continued to fuck her, rubbing her clit with my thumb and feeling like I was going to explode. Where did he cum? Inside me! And at that, I added my load to his, pushing deeply inside her as the cum came spurting from my rock-hard cock.

That was the first time we crossed that line. It wouldn’t be the last.