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A spark is starting to sprout.
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“When the Gods wish to punish us, they answer our prayers.”

― Oscar Wilde, An Ideal Husband

Sometimes our lives change without us realising it; we suddenly find ourselves living a life we didn't intend, totally different from our life just a few years before.

It happened to me too, but I do know at what point my life began to change, the turning point from which the changes in my marriage progressively accelerated to the situation I am in now.

Was it for the better or for the worse? It depends on one's opinion and perspective. Let me tell you about it.

It all started one day in early autumn. Although the holidays were over, one weekend my wife and I decided to take advantage of the last days of good weather and go to the beach. We were at La Musclera nudist beach, a beach to the north and close to the city where we live, Barcelona, Spain. We had laid down at one end at the foot of a rocky cliff, next to the railway line. I was totally naked, as I like to sunbathe and feel the air on my skin without anything in the way, and from time to time I like to go to one of the beaches that don't require a swimming costume. My pubic hair is shaved, so I feel the air, the sun, and the seawater more intensely on ALL the surface of my skin. My wife is more shy and not a nudist; she was wearing a red bikini.

But before I go on, I think I should talk about myself and my family. My name is Oriol. I'm 51 years old. I have short brown hair with a slightly receding hairline and brown eyes. I'm 1.77 m tall, and I weigh 116 kg. Yes, maybe I'm not very fit, and for that height, my weight should be less, but I find beers and butifarra (a kind of traditional Catalan sausage) irresistible, and on top of that, I don't exercise. My work as a lawyer specialising in companies in a law firm keeps me sitting a lot.

My wife's name is Iris; she is also 51 years old, has brown eyes, has reddish-brown, wavy, shoulder-length hair, is 1.60 m tall and weighs 69 kg. Yes, she's in great shape, and what a shape! She has a beautiful body, thanks to the fact that she takes better care of herself: she drinks less beer and sausage than I do and more fruit and vegetables. She also does aerobics at the gym every week, well, not really every week (she's not perfect, but almost).

What she does achieve perfection in is her body; she has an athletic body, slender but not skeletal, with the curves of a real woman, not an anorexic and unrealistic model, sensual and marked hips, beautiful breasts, large and slightly sagging, but that no one would attribute to a woman who has breastfed two daughters but to a young girl of 25 years, with large areolas and dark, pointed nipples, long, slender legs, pert buttocks that draw the eye to her ass, rounded, soft shoulders and, best of all, a smile that lights up her face, and that is what captivated me about her. That smile is the best thing about my wife, and when I see her smile, I feel happy, and I know she is happy. Iris works as the head of human resources in a company.
In short, I am very lucky; I have a perfect woman: a good professional, intelligent, cheerful woman who is a great mother with a body that would make many young girls envious.
Although we were classmates from the ages of 13 to 17, we didn't have a very close relationship at that time and lost touch, but eventually we got back in touch, and that second time it sparked; we fell in love and got married at 25. I had had several girlfriends and sexual relations with some of them, but for my wife, I was the man with whom she lost her virginity.

After a honeymoon in Tunisia, we settled on the top floor of a house in Barcelona's Ensanche (or Eixample), a district that was built in the 19th century to extend the narrow confines of the city's old town, with a rationalist, modern design of perpendicular streets and characteristic chamfered corners.

One of the advantages of the flat, which was quite large, was that being the top floor, it had a huge terrace which we had insulated with plants around it, allowing me to sunbathe naked whenever I felt like it.

We have been married for 26 years now, and in that time our two daughters were born: Nuria, the eldest, and Montserrat, the youngest.

And with my daughters, I am getting closer to one of the factors, not the only one, of the situation we were going through.

Nuria had finished her studies as a teacher, and, after a competitive examination, she had been lucky enough to get a teaching post in a school in another city. She had rented a flat and moved to start the new school year.

Montserrat had finished her degree in mathematics and had decided to do a master's degree in artificial intelligence, which was only taught in Madrid, the capital of Spain. Fortunately, some of my wife's uncles who lived there welcomed her to live in their house, delighted to have someone young to accompany them. This had been very good for us financially, given the very high costs of renting in the cities.

As a result, this September, my wife and I were suddenly alone in our big flat. So we were suffering from the “empty nest syndrome.”

My wife was feeling very bad about it. For my part, although I love my daughters dearly, and I knew that I would miss seeing them every day, their conversations, their laughter, and even the usual fights between sisters, on the other hand, I had hoped that by being alone and having more intimacy, our sex life, which had been declining more and more, could recover.

But nothing could be further from the truth. Sex between my wife and I was not getting any better. We had never been porn stars, limiting ourselves to the missionary position and little else, but lately, sexual relations were scarce.

To make matters worse, my wife was entering menopause, or more precisely, climacteric. Her periods were becoming irregular and spaced out, and her vagina wasn't always well lubricated, so it didn't make it easy to have sex.

And I, for my part, was also beginning to enter andropause, or “manopause,” as some jokingly put it, so my erections and stamina, which had never been extraordinary, had worsened.

And on top of all this, as a final factor in our situation, my wife's concern about age was compounded. The result was that lately, my wife's beautiful smile barely showed on her face, and when it did, it was gone in a few moments. It pained me greatly to see her begin to wilt, like a beautiful flower withering away.

All this was mixed up in the conversation we were having that morning on the beach as we lay in the sun on the sand.

Iris was saying to me, sorrowfully, "Autumn is beginning, and the autumn of our life is beginning. We're already going downhill."

"Please, honey, don't say that. It's not like you're 80 years old," I tried to cheer her up.

"Our daughters don't need us anymore, and we're getting old."

"What do you mean, old? We're in our prime."

"You know that the other day, one of the employees called me ma'am, even though we all use our first names?"

"Well, you command a lot of respect, you have an important position and a lot of responsibility," I said to calm her down. "And as for menstruation, this will save you from having to take contraceptives, and we'll have more days to enjoy sex," I added mischievously.

"No, I am considered old. You are a man, and you don't suffer the pressure that women do. Look at actresses. After a certain age, they are no longer hired, or only to play grandmothers."

"Yes, I recognise that women have a lot of social pressure and endure a lot of stereotypes, but you don't have to exaggerate. In your case, you're young, you're in the prime of your life personally and professionally, and you have a beautiful body that most women would envy."

"No way, look at my oversized hips, sagging breasts, crow's feet, and wrinkled eyes," my wife replied in despair.

"Of course, you're not a marble statue unchanging for centuries, nor are you one of those anorexic 20-year-old models. You're a woman, and a mother, and you're beautiful, with curves in the right places that make men want to caress you; take my advice."

At that moment, we saw a man approaching the area where we were. We stood quietly watching him, like most of the people on the beach. He was very tall, close to six feet, with broad shoulders and a muscular body, long, strong legs, and arms that were thicker than my thighs. He reminded me a bit of the actor Jason Momoa, but his skin was shiny black, and his hair was short and curly.

He had a perfect body and walked with a firm, athletic stride. Although on nudist beaches we all try not to look too much at other people, out of respect and so as not to look like a voyeur, I think we couldn't help but stare at him, as most of us on the beach did. It was like a vision, and I thought that most women and some of the men, not just the homosexuals, would like to share a bed with him.

He was wearing a tight T-shirt, which showed all his muscles, and a swimming costume. He came close to us, spread out the towel, and took off his swimming costume. My wife couldn't help but let out an “oh” when she saw what the man was hiding between his legs.

We lay down again, and she said to me, "That's amazing. I've never seen such a huge penis. It's amazing. I thought they didn't exist that big."

"Yes," I replied, "it looks like he's got the Agbar Tower between his legs."

The Agbar Tower is a huge skyscraper in Barcelona that has a totally phallic shape, like a big penis or vibrator. So much so that when a very funny friend from Seville came to the city and saw the tower, he told us, "I hope there were no deaths when the giant woman dropped the vibrator."

"I don't want to think what it must feel like for a woman to be penetrated by such an enormity; it must hurt her," my wife replied.

My penis is a little shorter than average; it's only 4.5" as opposed to the average 5.5", so I couldn't help but think what a huge difference there was between the two of us. That cock had to be at least 12" long.

I said to my wife, "But it can also cause her great pleasure. Imagine being fucked by a cock like that; it has to take you to seventh heaven."

"I don't think so. You know, there are studies that say that the sensitivity of the vagina is only in one area at the entrance, so it doesn't matter how long it is. And being so thick, it has to dilate the vagina too much and hurt. In any case, I'm very happy with you, and I don't need anything else. Your cock is perfect for me."

"And wouldn't you like to try some cock like that sometime, and especially on a body like that?"

"What nonsense!" replied Iris.

We were entering 'dangerous' territory that we had already entered once before. I have to say that for years, I had had a fantasy of seeing my wife with another man. I didn't understand why this image came into my head and, above all, why it excited me. But I couldn't help it. Sometimes I imagined watching my wife being fucked by another man, seeing her face explode with pleasure as a man, on top of her, penetrated her with a huge cock, a cock much bigger than mine, which penetrated my wife to the bottom of her sex and gave her a pleasure unmatched by anything she had ever enjoyed.

"Sure?" I insisted. "Imagine caressing a body as muscular and exotic as that. Maybe he's a prince from some African country, and his name is Agbar, which is a name that reminds me of an Arabic or Oriental name, so what he's carrying between his legs is 'The Tower OF Agbar'," I added jokingly.

"You know I'm happy with you and would never be unfaithful."

"But it wouldn't be infidelity if I gave you permission. It wouldn't be lovemaking, just enjoying sex, uncomplicated, without any kind of commitment or strings attached. A purely physical experience, like getting a massage. When you get a massage, they touch and caress your whole body, and you don't consider it infidelity. What's the difference?"

"They don't touch your sex," my wife said, very confidently.

"And why is it different from any other part of your body? Your back and neck are very sensitive, and you get aroused when I caress them. And yet you get massages in that area. And the massages usually include your thighs up to practically your ass. Don't tell me there's that much difference."

"I don't know; it's different," Iris replied, feeling cornered. "In any case, no one that attractive would be interested in someone like me."

"Someone like you? It's not like you're a monster. I assure you, you're the most attractive woman on the beach, and everyone would look at you like he does if you walked around naked."

"Nonsense. You're just saying that to cheer me up and because you're my husband," Iris said resignedly.

"No! I'm sure! What do you want to bet?" I asked out of the blue.

"What do you mean? What am I betting?"

"What are you betting that if you walk around naked, most people are going to stare at you?"

"Naked?" she exclaimed.

"Yeah, sure, we're on a nude beach; almost everyone is naked. And then you'd see that your body, in its natural state, with nothing to hide it, is so attractive that it attracts attention."

"I don't dare."

"You don't dare to prove you're the prettiest? A human resources manager who's scared of most of her employees doesn't dare?"

"Well, OK, I'm a bit embarrassed, but since I'm sure I'll win, and to prove you wrong, and so that you don't insist any more, I'm going to do it. And if I win, you'll take me dancing, which you haven't done for years, and there's no way of convincing you, OK?"

"OK. And if I'm right, I'm going to ask you for something that you haven't done for years, and I can't convince you. I want you to give me a blowjob," I said, grinning mischievously.

"Men! Always thinking about the same thing," my wife replied with a smile. "How do we do the test?"

I got to thinking and came up with a way: "You're going to get undressed and walk to the other end of the beach. I'll pretend I'm late picking something up from the bag, and I'll follow you far away. As we have the plastic case for the mobile phone, I'll set it to record and hang it around my neck, because I can't go filming with my mobile phone; people will get angry if they think we're filming them. Then we come back here, check the recording, and count who is looking at you. If it's more than 50%, I win; if it's less, you win. And remember that we are on a nudist beach and that people try not to look. If someone looks, it's because it's a VERY attractive body, like yours."

"Come on, if only so you don't say any more nonsense. I'm already thinking of a place for you to take me dancing."

Iris stood up and, after a few moments' hesitation, removed her red bikini top. I stood admiring her beautiful breasts and her nipples, which were erect; I couldn't tell if it was from the fresh breeze or from excitement.

Then, after hesitating even longer, she slowly removed her bikini bottoms. Then she stood up resolutely, looked at me, and started to walk. It was the first time my wife had ever fully undressed in public. I thought it was a big leap.

I grabbed my mobile phone, turned on the video recording, put it in the plastic case we took to the beach so it wouldn't get wet, put it around my neck, and followed her from a distance.

At first, she walked as if cowering, intimidated, and worried about being totally naked, but little by little, she gained confidence, and her step became firmer and more confident; gradually, I would even say that her gait became even more suggestive, sensual, and feline.

I watched her, enjoying the sight of her body, her long legs moving across the sand, and her buttocks swaying on the unevenness of the sand. Out of the corner of my eye, I looked at people to see if they noticed her. I came to think that, in my enthusiasm and to cheer her up, I had been too optimistic. But the truth is that I saw several heads turning sideways to look at her.

When we reached the end of the beach, we went to a beach bar and had a beer.

"How are you?" I asked her.

"Fine. It's a weird feeling to be naked, but it's been exciting," she replied with a smile.

"What do you mean, HAS BEEN? We have to go back."

"Well..." she replied, seeming to oblige, but I could tell she was enjoying it.

We retraced our steps, and as we got to our spot from before and sat down, I grabbed my phone, and we started going through the footage, me counting the ones who had watched it and her counting the ones who hadn't. Only by one, but I won.

I was happy. "What did I tell you? You're the hottest girl on the beach, not a dying old lady."

"It's past summer; a lot of them are retired," she replied, smiling, but as if she didn't want to believe it.

"And those groups of young people who must have been students?"

"I didn't notice..." she lied and added with a smirk, "I think they were watching me to protect me. They saw that I was being followed by a dangerous pervert with a mobile phone..."

"Sure," I replied with a smile. "And, by the way, our mysterious Prince Agbar is still there. Don't you think now that someone like him would notice you?"

"Well, maybe, but I've already told you that I'm only interested in you."

We continued chatting for a while, both of us naked, without her making any attempt to put on her bikini, which surprised me. The subject of Prince Agbar and the possibility of Iris having sex with another man kept coming up in conversation. Since the conversation about my fantasy had come up, I wanted to see to what extent my wife would reject it.

At lunchtime, we got dressed and had paella in a restaurant in a nearby village, after which we strolled around the village. I enjoyed the afternoon enormously, especially because for the first time in many weeks, the smile did not leave my wife's lips.

We got home late, and after dinner and watching TV for a while, we went to bed.

I was looking forward to my 'prize', but I didn't want to say anything to her. Iris had never been a big fan of oral sex, and I didn't want to pressure her. If she didn't want to give me a blow job, I wouldn't demand it.

Suddenly, she looked at me and asked, "Don't you want your reward?"

"Nothing would please me more; I didn't want to pressure you."

She looked at me with tender eyes and said, "That's why I love you so much; you love and respect me like no one else would. I know I'm sometimes a little hesitant about sex, and I thank you for respecting me. But today you've won the bet, and I'll give you what you deserve."

She knelt between my legs, grabbed my cock, and began to lick it slowly, running her tongue all over the surface, stopping especially at the glans, where she fiddled with the tip of her tongue, which made me feel like I was in heaven.

I closed my eyes and let myself be carried away by the sensations. The few times Iris had performed oral sex on me, she had done it almost as an obligation, mechanically. I had certainly enjoyed the feel of her tongue and lips around my cock, but this time she seemed to be enjoying it as much as I was. I felt her playful and excited, kissing and licking my cock like it was a delicious ice cream. When she opened her lips and slowly lowered her head, letting my cock enter the velvety, warm cavity of her mouth, I almost came.

I tried to hold on as long as I could to stretch out the pleasure of feeling her soft, fleshy lips around my cock, slowly bobbing up and down, but after a few minutes, I felt I couldn't take it anymore; I felt my scrotum contract and my cock start to twitch.

I warned her, as Iris didn't like me cumming in her mouth, "Arg! God! I'm cumming!" but, surprisingly, she didn't pull away. A huge orgasm rippled through me from base to tip; I felt my cock twitch, and I began to ejaculate in Iris's mouth for the first time in my life.

The cum kept pouring out, one spurt after another, filling Iris's mouth as she kept her lips wrapped around my cock. When I was done, I felt exhausted; it had been a long time since I had enjoyed sex so much. I looked at Iris, who looked at me with bright, mischievous eyes, gestured to swallow the contents of her mouth, and then licked her lips, like a cat after finishing a bowl of milk.

She lay down next to me, and I kissed her and said, "Thank you; that was wonderful."

"A bet is a bet," she replied, as if she had done it as an unpleasant obligation, as if trying to disguise that she had enjoyed it, but with a smile.

"Do you want me to reciprocate?" I asked her, placing my hand between her legs.

"No, I'm tired, and besides, it was your prize for winning. If it were mutual, it wouldn't be a fair one."

I fell asleep, happy and relaxed, in a few minutes.

In the middle of the night, I had a very real dream. In it, Prince Agbar, as we had christened him, came into our room and undressed, showing off his impressive body.

My wife had woken up and was looking lustfully at him, running her gaze all over his muscular body, which glistened in the gloom as if it had oil on it.

I was looking at the two of them, not knowing what to do, when my wife pulled back the sheets, showing her naked body, and said to Agbar in a voice full of desire, "I want you to fuck me..."

As Agbar's huge body climbed onto the bed, the bed creaked, and I moved aside to make room.

He knelt between Iris's legs and began to caress her with his huge, strong hands. The contrast between the colour of their skins, Agbar's very black skin against my wife's very light skin, was shocking and attractive at the same time.

His hands caressed Iris's breasts firmly but gently, sometimes squeezing and pinching her nipples until I feared he was hurting her, but this seemed to excite Iris, who, with her eyes closed and her mouth half open, seemed to enjoy it immensely.

He continued to run his hands all over her body, kneading her intensely, causing Iris to start moaning with pleasure. At one point, he said in a very deep voice (I realised that until then I didn't know what his voice was like), "I'm going to prepare you so that I can penetrate you with my cock."

He brought his mouth close to her sex and slowly ran his tongue along her vaginal lips. At that moment, she shuddered and had her first orgasm. He continued to lick her and began to push his tongue into her vagina. His tongue was big, like every part of his body – I think as big as my cock – and when he penetrated her with that pink tongue, she had a more intense orgasm than the first one. Agbar went on and on, giving her more and more orgasms and making her produce lots of lubrication, until amidst Iris's fluids and his saliva, her crotch and the bed were soaking wet.

Then he lay down on top of her and placed the head of his cock between her vaginal lips. When I saw that enormity, I thought he was going to split my wife in two. I was scared, but the scene was so intense and erotic that I couldn't stop watching. Moreover, in the dream I felt unable to move, as if I were tied up.

For a few moments in the dream, it seemed to me that his cock was a glass and concrete tower, like the building we had named for the stranger, and that this artificial phallus was going to penetrate Iris, but it turned back into the human cock I had seen on the beach, which seemed more threatening in a way.

He began to move his hips and slowly penetrated my wife. That huge cock worked its way inside Iris, stretching her vaginal lips as far as they would go until it felt like they were about to tear, as if she was going to give birth to a baby.

Iris let out a moan of pain, which gradually turned into one of immense pleasure. He kept going, driving his cock into Iris in what seemed like an endless journey. I thought that such a length could never be accommodated inside her, but he kept going on and on, driving that monstrosity into Iris's delicate channel, Iris, with eyes closed and mouth half open, let out moans of pleasure interspersed with her gasps.

When he reached the bottom, Agbar began to slowly pull back until only the tip of his cock was left. Then he thrust all the way in, causing Iris's whole body to twitch, and she reached a new orgasm.

I saw everything, sometimes in slow motion, and as if in a dream, I didn't always have a definite location: sometimes I was next to her, glued to Iris's face, watching her face twist into a grimace of pleasure; sometimes I saw them both from a few feet away, Agbar's muscular, black body on top of my wife's delicate, pale body; at other times, I seemed to be between my wife's legs, watching in close-up as that huge member went in inch by inch, as if there was no end to it.

At some point, I thought I should be jealous and angry that another man was fucking my wife, but instead, I felt excited watching this wild sex and happy to see my wife enjoying herself as I had never seen her before, happy after this last season in which she was feeling more and more miserable.

Agbar went on and on fucking her for what seemed like hours, Iris's legs and arms wrapped around him, and she reached orgasm after orgasm, screaming every few seconds, "Fuck me, Agbar! Fuck me! More! More! Don't stop!" Until finally, with a hard thrust of her hips, he climaxed and began to ejaculate.

His cock contracted and pulsed, shooting spurts and spurts of cum deep into Iris's vagina in an endless stream. Despite how tight and stretched Iris's labia were around that huge cock, in my dream I saw a continuous stream of white, viscous liquid flowing out, like a fountain.

The whole thing gave me a huge rush of excitement, like a burst of pleasure, which made me wake up. I realised that I had come and was soaking wet.

More than once, I had fantasised about seeing my wife with another man, and I had read stories, but I had never had an experience like that, the closest thing to seeing my fantasy come true.

I decided I had to try; I had to convince my wife to have sex with another man. That way, she would feel more attractive and younger, and she would forget those dark thoughts that had been plaguing her lately, and the smile that I loved so much would return to her face, and I would see my fantasy come true.

However, I thought it could be very difficult. Iris had always been very shy and reluctant to sexual adventures and games. She didn't even like to go nudist; today was the first day she had been without clothes on a beach. The truth was that today she seemed more lively and playful than at other times; perhaps the realisation that she was attractive had given her confidence, but from there to having sex with another man was a big step.

I turned to look at her in the semi-darkness. She was still asleep and seemed to be fidgeting, as if she were having a bad dream. I was about to wake her up in case she was having a nightmare, then I noticed that she had her right hand between her legs, moving it as if she was masturbating. She was mumbling something in her sleep; I put my face close to hers to hear what she was saying, and I heard her whisper, "Fuck me, Agbar! Fuck me!"

To be continued: Cuckold in Barcelona. Chapter 2. First steps