I'm Tom, 36, an USAF Lt. Colonel at the Pentagon and love my very attractive hot blonde wife, Char, 29,
About 2 years ago, I started having sexual fantasies about watching my gorgeous hot wife up close getting fucked by other man especially while his big hard cock is sliding fully and finally buried up to his big hanging balls deep up in my beautiful wife’s pussy (I'm sure it started watching hot porn, or stories I had read). I just knew she would eventually fully enjoy experiencing another guy’s big hard cock sliding deep into her pussy and having have a huge climax as he finally cums and blasts her pussy full of his big load of hot cum! I wanted this for her, for us and, of course, it would be climatic for me. It would be all for her pleasure, but, of course, I knew there was nearly ZERO chance that it would ever happen.
Then one night when we were having some great sex, we stated sharing our sexual fantasies again and I decided to share with her this fantasy of mine. She laughed, a little nervously, and said she couldn’t understand why I would ever think she would want to actually have sex another man, especially with me watching and that’s as far as it went (or so I thought).
As time went on and as we shared our fantasies, I would bring up this fantasy every so often, and surprisingly she began asking me more about it, and she finally began to understand what turned me on about it. So, over the next months, she seemed to gradually be getting turned on by the thought of it (still she said there was no chance she could ever actually go through with it though). Until one night she finally said it. “You know, honey, I’ve been thinking about what you said about me enjoy having sex with another guy and me enjoying it and of you watching another guy’s big cock sliding deep in my pussy and, well, a, I think I’ve finally decided I’d kind of like to move a little forward on this fantasy of yours, you know, watching me have sex with another guy!!
“Yes?”, I said. “Well, I was thinking, do you remember Bill and Amy who we used to party with, and we did a little soft stuff with them, and well, you know that they moved to the east coast somewhere but now they have come back. Why don't we invited them for a weekend = maybe do a little trading!
The hum of the Pentagon’s corridors died behind the thick oak door of the Eagle’s Nest, replaced by the clink of fine china and the low chatter of generals. Tom guided Char to their table, his hand a tense brand on the small of her back. Across the linen-draped expanse, Bill was already holding a chair for Amy, his smile a flash of white in the sober room. “Sleep well?” Bill asked, his voice carrying just enough to be heard. Char focused on the starched napkin in her lap, the memory of his weight still a phantom ache. A waiter poured ice water. “Like the dead,” Tom finally answered, the lie flat. Bill’s laugh was a short, sharp crack. “I bet.” The appetizers arrived, a chilled soup that Char stirred without tasting. Amy leaned in, her perfume cutting through the aroma of rosemary bread. “That penthouse was something, wasn’t it?” she said, her tone light, her eyes probing Char’s. Char nodded, her throat tight. She felt Bill’s gaze travel from her mouth down to her collarbone, a tangible scrape. Tom’s knife screeched against his plate. The silence stretched, taut as a wire. Bill wiped his mouth, his eyes never leaving Char. “So, Colonel. Any new… tactical maneuvers planned for the weekend?” Tom set his glass down with a precise click. “Just the usual routine.” “Pity,” Bill murmured, his foot brushing Char’s ankle beneath the table. “I was hoping for a repeat performance.” Char flinched, the soup turning to acid in her stomach. Tom’s knuckles were white around his fork. He looked at Char, a silent, furious question hanging in the air between them.