October 15, 2019
Just a fantasy
It wasn’t something that I really wanted. It was just a fantasy stimulated by desire and denial. I never could get enough sex from my wife and she denied me more than she expressed desire for me. Her actions and her attractiveness fueled my suspicion which lead to my fantasy of watching her being passionately made love to by another man.
My suspicions, my fantasies and my desires lead me to a place where I found myself stalking my wife. I never thought I could stoop so low. But, I did. I became obsessed with following her to the Mall on Saturday mornings. She would go to the Mall on Saturday morning and stay all day and come home with nothing but a pair of stockings or maybe a pair of panties and matching bra. My hindsight tells me that she was deliberately trying to create suspicion. If she was, she was successful.
One day I watched her sitting in the food court when a tall, attractive man came over and sat with her. They immediately began to chat and It became apparent that they knew each other. I could feel the heat of jealous rage and I wanted to go over and interrupt their reunion. But I didn’t. Instead, I just waited and watched. They shared a bite of lunch together and then they left. I followed them to the parking lot and then to a near by motel. They walked together to their room, hand in hand like lovers. She must have made reservations in advance because she already had a key to the door.
I just sat in my car, giving them time to get settled in and then I went to the door to listen. I noticed the shade and curtains were opened. I peeped into the window and noticed my wife standing near the bed in just her panties and matching bra. We made eye contact. I stood there in shock for a brief moment and then I swiftly walked away.
“Shit. She saw me.”
I went and hopped into my car and drove off. I looked back at the room. She was peeping out through the cracked door.
I drove around for hours angry and confused. “She knows that I was stalking her.” I thought to myself. ” Why was I worried about her knowing that I was stalking her? She should be worried about what I saw and what I know. My wife is in a motel with some other man.”
I begin to feel my eyes tear up and I was pissed off. I thought about going back to the motel and banging on the door and kicking somebody’s ass, but I knew I wouldn’t do that. That just isn’t my style. I knew it and I was sure that my wife knew it too. I thought about the fact that some man was fucking my wife at that very moment. As I thought about what was probably going on in that room, I began to feel myself becoming aroused. I laughed to myself at the thought that I was actually getting aroused by the thought of my wife being fucked by another man.
“What the hell? The bitch is over 50 years old. She is her own woman with her own life to do as she please.”
When she got home, it was well past 8:30 pm. She smelled like she had freshly showered. She came in fuming. “What the hell gives you the right to be stalking me?”
I hung my head like a school boy being chastised.
She cursed me like she had never done before. I felt so humiliated. Much like the guys I had read about in all the cuckold stories I had read. It dawned on me that I was one of them. She stomped off into the bathroom and then I heard the shower come on. Although she smelled clean, I figured she didn’t feel clean. Or maybe she just needed to calm herself down.
When she came out, she was dry and smelling good, wearing nothing but a short robe. I wanted to fuck her. Sloppy seconds. She came into the kitchen and began to prepare something to eat. She softly, almost sweetly asked me if I wanted something to eat.
I hadn’t eaten all day. I forgot that I was hungry. I simply said, “Yes, whatever you are having.”
When we first sat down to eat, no one spoke. Then she finally broke the ice. “Now that you know, what are we going to do?”
I didn’t know what to say. I felt confused and I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. “What am I supposed to do? If you don’t want me and you prefer someone else instead of me, then you tell me. What the fuck am I supposed to do?” I could feel the tears falling down the sides of my face.
She came over to me and hugged me, pulling my face into her bosom. I felt like a child being comforted by his mother. “You should be happy for me that I can still be attractive to men at my age. That’s what you should do. The men in my life gives me money. Lots of money. Enough money to afford to provide us with a decent place to live, a luxury car to drive, and a vacations twice a year. Where do you think the money comes from? I thought you knew.”
I realized that I should have known. I felt stupid and ashamed of myself for being so immature. “I’m sorry baby.” I apologized for following her.
“Look”, she said. “Now that things are out in the open, why don’t I bring my Johns home with me. They are like friends of mine, but why should I sneak around and have to pay for an expensive motel room when I can use the guestroom. You are my house man and you always will be. Anybody that I have sex with has to pay me. Although we don’t have sex as much as you might want to, you are the only man that I don’t charge. I love YOU. You are my life partner. You are my HUSBAND. My HOUSEMAN. 24/7.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. I felt so good hearing her say that she loved me and that the other guys in her life were friends who paid for her time. I was so glad to hear her say the things she said and I was ready to agree with what ever she wanted.
So, we made arrangements for her to invite her guest to the house on Saturdays. I would prepare to cookout in the yard. Her guest would join us for food and drinks and then they would always disappear into the guestroom where they would sometimes stay for hours and then the guy would leave and we would be a couple of hundred dollars richer. My wife said, “We should have been doing this when I first started dating these guys. To think of all the money I could have saved on motel bills.” Whenever the guys would ask about who I was, we would just tell them that I am her houseman.
After a few of her clients visited the house, my wife decided that it wasn’t a good idea to have these different me coming around the house. She decided that it was safer to meet them at the Mall and to take them to the motel as she had done in the past. I completely understood. It had been fun listening by the door and peeping in. Our relationship as well as our sex life improved tremendously after learning how she was spending her Saturdays. And she expressed her feelings of relief once she was able to be honest and open with me about her secret life. I have a new found appreciation for her.
by Well-Kept-Man
