My life had not been especially extraordinary until the last three years. I married for the first time when I was far too young, and I was divorced after just four years. My second marriage lasted far longer, and I had two wonderful children, but Jez turned out to be a bit of a controlling freak, and our relationship was already going downhill fast when I met Pete.

Pete was my boss at work. He took a professional interest in me because he genuinely wanted me to make a success of my career. He was older than me, we were both married, and any romance would have been impossible given that he was my boss.

But we got on really well. I thought he was a wonderful caring person, and I knew that he fancied me. But nothing happened at that time because of our circumstances. After nearly two years working for him, I got myself another job much higher up the ladder, and I thanked him for all his help. We told each other that we would keep in touch, but it didn't happen.

Out of the blue, three years ago now, I got a friendship request from him on Facebook. I didn't actually use Facebook much, but he found me on there. We updated each other on our lives. Pete was now a widower - his wife had been taken by cancer two years earlier, and he was now retired. I was divorced, still working, but looking forward to my retirement too.

I'd had a few more relationships along the way, but nothing that lasted, and we agreed to meet, even though we lived a long way from each other at the time. The old spark was still there, and we fell for each other, hook, line and sinker.

Before we got too far, Pete said he had something he needed to talk to me about. He was very honest. He explained he was a cuckold, and bless him, I'm afraid he had to educate me on what that meant.

So, long story short, he wanted us to be partners and live together, but only if I was prepared to do what he wanted me to do. I was taken aback, and I told him that I would have to go home and think about it. Pete didn't try and influence me and I believe he thought that he'd blown his chances with me.

But he was something special to me, and he had been so honest too. I wanted to take our relationship further, and the thought of having bits of fun with other men wasn't exactly too hard on me.

So Pete and I got it together. The sex with him was great. He was looking after me financially too, so to move in with him wasn't a difficult decision.

It didn't take long for him to mention his desires. Every time we made love, he would ask if I had anybody else in mind to have fun with, to do what we had just done et cetera.

It was quite difficult for me because there wasn't anyone who came to mind. Pete understood, and booked an all-inclusive holiday for us in Spain, informing me that there was a hotel nightclub and that he thought there would be lots of "temptations".

He wasn't wrong. We were only there seven nights, but I got lucky three times just by going there "on my own" - Pete was actually at the bar every time watching. Twice, I went to the guys' rooms, but with the third one, he was married and we got it together in our own room with Pete out on the balcony listening.

I quickly learned that not only did I have to be adventurous with other partners but also that I had to be good at describing everything in detail. I also learned that when I did that, Pete was extremely turned on and that I had to relive it all with him.

Now, I feel the need to write about my extraordinary lifestyle. I have lost count of the number of lovers I've had over the past three years. Pete knows, because he keeps a diary. I don't regret any of it and look forward to much more of the same before I get any older.