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The Seven Year Itch

I propose a way to spice up our sex life that ends up changing our relationship for ever.

The seven-year itch is one of those rare, cliché couples’ problems that, in my case, turned out to be true. My wife and I are seven-and-a-half years into our marriage which, up until about three weeks ago, was about as typical as they get. Now, however, after that night, everything has changed.  What I am about to recount for you is completely real. I am still trying to figure out what the long-term ramifications of it will be. But one thing is for sure, we will never be the same couple we were before.

I suppose I should give a brief history of our relationship. We met shortly after high-school at a mutual friend’s party. I spotted this gorgeous, artsy girl with bouncy black shoulder-length curls, and thick red glasses and lips, from across the room, sitting on a couch by herself. I approached her with a drink, and after a long night of conversation, we exchanged phone numbers and started dating. We dated for about nine months before I realized that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her, and then I popped the question. She said yes, and we’ve spent the last seven years in seemingly wedded bliss.

We did all the things that young newlyweds do. We made love constantly. We bought a house, and both started our careers. We do not have any kids yet, but both want to have some eventually. Our sex life was ferocious at first but, as is so typical, it has seen a steady dwindle from five or seven times a week to once every week (or even two weeks).

My wife has always been kind of shy, and a little awkward socially, but I love that about her. She has that quirky, under-the-radar kind of sexiness about her. She has always dressed kind of conservatively, but recently has been doing so more than ever, which is a shame, I think.

This recent turn toward more conservative dressing is because, over the last year or so, she has put on around twenty pounds. This has really made her self-conscious about her appearance. Despite what she thinks of herself, however, she carries it in the best way. Her breasts were a small B-cup when we met, but they’ve grown to a full C, and her ass has gone from a small handful to the perfect kind of thick. Sure, she has love handles now, but who does not love grabbing onto those when you fuck from behind, right? Nonetheless, it seems that she is a bit embarrassed by them, for some reason.

Now we come to where this story really begins.

For a few months, I’ve been getting frustrated with our sex life. We simply haven’t been having enough of it. This frustration came to a head when one evening when, after a particularly flirtatious night on the town (one where I was sure would end with me inside of her), she said she didn’t feel sexy when we got home and the night sputtered. That night, I decided that we had to do something to spice up our love life.

The next evening, I poured her a martini and told her we needed to talk.

“About what?” she asked.

“Our sex life,” I answered.

Her reaction seemed to me like she knew this was coming. She must have been feeling the stagnation too.

“Listen, I know I haven’t been feeling very sexy lately. I guess that’s my fault, but I can try harder,” she said.

“Like how?” I asked. “I tell you you're sexy every day. God knows I believe it. I’m not sure what else I can do.”

She sipped her drink and seemed to reflect deeply.

“I guess it’s just that, well, not only am I not feeling very attractive these days, but I guess I’m just kind of bored too,” she said.

This took me by surprise. I had assumed that it was just her self-consciousness holding her back. I had no idea that she was getting bored with our sex life. I was a little hurt by that, but also a little intrigued.

“What do you mean bored?” I asked, my heart starting to beat faster in nervous anticipation.

“Well, it’s just … I don’t know. Do you remember that feeling of when we were first dating? I’ve been thinking about how much I miss that feeling. I wish there was some way we could have that back,” she said.

“I know what you mean,” I replied, “I miss that too. What are we going to do about it?”

She sat there silently twisting her hair around a finger. After what seemed like too long a silence, she asked me the question every husband hopes to hear.

“Well, do you have any, like, fantasies you’d want to try?” she asked.

“Every guy has fantasies.” 

“So, what are they, then?” 

I thought for a moment about how to proceed. I searched myself for an answer to this puzzle. What could we do that would simultaneously turn me on and give her that spark that would reinvigorate our sex life? After a moment it came to me.

“Okay, promise you won’t think this is weird?” I asked.

Sensing that I was nervous to tell her what I was thinking, she gave me a reassuring glance, put her hand on my knee, and bit her lower lip.

“As long as it’s not something super crazy, I promise I won’t think any less of you,” she answered.

My heart beat faster. I started to sweat. I knew that what I was about to say could either bring us back to that fuck-fest we had when we first were dating, or possibly drive her away. I decided to take the chance.

“Well, I guess when I watch porn and stuff, I kind of always gravitate towards the voyeur videos,” I said.

I paused for second, trying to gauge her reaction. She seemed a little confused. She was not putting the pieces together quite yet.

“Do you want to make a sex tape or something?” she asked, her eyebrows crunching in the cutest way.

“No, not necessarily,” I said, “I was thinking of something a little different.”

“Well, come out with it,” she laughed, now stroking my inner thigh.

“Okay. Here goes. So … I kind of have this fantasy … of watching you flirt with another guy. I don’t know why it turns me on. Maybe it’s knowing that I have what someone else wants or something, but I think it would be really hot if we went out to a bar or something, and I sat at a table and you sat at the bar, and I could just sort of watch you flirt with whoever hit on you.”

By the time I finished that sentence her hand was on top of the hardening bulge in my jeans. She smiled when she felt it.

“I guess that does turn you on, huh?” she said.

Then she sat back, thinking. She looked at me a little strangely.

“I’m not going to lie,” she said, “that’s not what I was expecting you to say. But I guess it’s not that crazy. There’s only one problem, though.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m not sure that anyone would hit on me.”

“Are you crazy?” I exclaimed, “You’re so sexy, but you don’t even realize it! I guarantee that, if you were to wear a sexy little cocktail dress and sit alone at the bar, you would have guys all over you!”

My erection was throbbing at the thought of that scene now. Her face flushed. I could tell she was not only surprised at my suggestion, but unsure of my conclusion. It was obvious, however, that she was not entirely opposed to the idea. We sat in silence for the next few minutes, just looking at each other.

“Okay,” she said, breaking the silence.

“Okay, what?”

“Let’s do it, then, if that’s what you want. Next Friday, let’s go to the bar at the Marriot downtown.”

A strange feeling of joy and nervous anxiety overcame me. I almost did not believe that she had agreed to this. I leaned in to kiss her, and she started stroking me over my jeans. That night, we had the best sex we had had in months.


When I awoke the next morning, our “date” on Friday was all that I could think about. But there was a problem. Although I was pretty confident that someone would hit on her, I thought about what would happen if no one did. It might just make the problem of her self-confidence worse. I had to make sure it happened. But how?

Then it occurred to me. I opened up my laptop and put an add on craigslist. It read as follows.

“My wife and I are looking to try something new. Are there any guys out there who would like to try and pick-up my wife at a bar while I watch? She can’t know about this add, though; I need someone who is discrete and likes this sort of thing. She is 30, 5’8”, a little thick at 150lbs., curly black hair, great ass. Contact me if you’re interested. Make sure to include a pic.”

Within hours, I had over fifty responses flooding my inbox. A good portion of them were dick-pics. It felt strange to be opening one after another of those. This must be what girls on Snapchat feel like, I thought to myself.

One of the emails stood out. It was well-written and not overly explicit. The picture he included showed that he was a handsome guy, and certainly my wife’s “type”. He was a little older than us. He looked to be in his mid-forties and had a lot of John Stamos-ish features. My wife has a huge crush on that guy, so I figured this would be a good choice.

His email read:

“Hello. My name is Derek. I am very interested in your add. I’ve done this kind of thing for couples before. Women tell me I have a ton of charm, and some to spare. I’m well educated, professional, in shape, and discrete. If your wife is looking to spice things up and rekindle that special feeling of being single and sought-after, then I can give that to her. I know how to make a woman feel special. If you like my add, I ask that you please respond with a picture of your wife and a time, place, and details for a meeting. Looking forward to your response …”

Almost without thinking, I replied:

“Hi, nice to meet you. Your reply was perfect, and sounds like exactly what we are looking for. The plan is to arrive at the lobby bar of the Marriot on Friday around 9:00pm. She will sit at the bar, and I will be at a table across the room. I’ve attached a picture so you know what she looks like, and I’ll send you an email the night-of when I know what she’s wearing.”

I attached a picture that I pulled from her Facebook page. It only took a few minutes for his reply.

“That’s great. I’m looking forward to it! One thing though, do you have any pictures of her body … something with skin? That will help me … get in the mood … for our meeting.”

This struck me as a bit strange, but I didn’t want him to bail on the idea. I got the feeling that this guy would make my wife feel like a million dollars, and that I would be able to cash the check once we got home. The problem was, my wife has never been one to send me sexy photos. I only had two that I had taken in secret for my own pleasure.

I attached both to the email reply. The first was one that I had taken while we were at the beach. She was wearing a two-piece polka-dot bikini while on her stomach, reading a book. I had masturbated to this picture few times. The way the son and water dotted her peach, smooth bare legs was intoxicating. The second one, and perhaps more risqué, was one that I had taken of her in our bed while she slept. She was wearing a tight t-shirt that showed off her curves, and no pants – just a sky-blue thong.

My fingers trembled as pressed “send.” It felt so strange to be sending these private images of my wife to a strange man. Who knows what he would do with them? Again, only a few minutes passed before he replied.

“Well, your wife is certainly gorgeous. What on ass on her! This is going to be a great evening. You’ll see me on Friday as I attempt to win her affections. I do have a bit of advice for you, if this is your first time. Whatever happens, don’t intervene. If you do, there’s no telling how your wife will react. You need to be confident that she will only go as far as she’s comfortable, and just let any feelings of jealousy fuel your own desire. I’ve seen husbands lose control and ending up damaging their relationships because of it. Does this make sense?”

This was starting to become so real. I realized that this evening would sort of be a test for both me and my wife. How far would this guy try to go, and how far would my wife let him? Would I be able to sit back and not interfere if I felt jealous?

I replied:

“I understand. The ball is in her court. I’m just a bystander. Make her feel special.”


The night came, and I sat in bed reading a book watching her get ready over the brim of it. She took a long shower and was totally smooth when she came out. She put on a sexy pair of lacy garter panties clipped to the apex of her thigh-high stockings, which were barely covered by the black tulip skirt she put on next. I hadn’t seen her dress this sexy in years.

As she bent over the bathroom sink putting on her most sultry shade of red lipstick, she looked over toward me on the bed.

“Doesn’t it feel weird for you watching me get ready to go flirt with other guys?” she asked.

“A little bit, I guess. But it’s also turning me on. You’re so damn sexy, and you should feel it,” I replied.

When she put on her stiletto heels and walked in front of me out the door toward our car, I had to fight the urge to call it off, to usher her back into our house and fuck her right then and there. But I could tell that the mere thought of doing this was already bringing back some of her confidence. I could tell by the bounce in her step.

We arrived at the bar. We decided that it was better for her to go in first, and me a few seconds later so that no one suspected we were together. When I walked in and took a table about 30 ft. away from her, I noticed that she had already taken a seat at the bar. Her legs were crossed on the stool, and she nervously spun the straw in her cocktail.

Just at the time that I had taken my seat, I felt a breeze blow by and looked up. Derek had spotted her and was making his approach. The cologne he was wearing smelled expensive. He was wearing business casual attire – a button-down shirt and suit-jacket, wing-tipped shoes. He looked expensive. I realized that he had no idea what I looked like, but he did not seem concerned with anyone else in the room as he made his way toward my wife sitting at the bar.

My heart beat faster. My fingers shook. I was now at the complete mercy of the situation. All I could do was watch.

Derek took the stool next to my wife. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but it was obvious that he had introduced himself. He leaned in to get the bartender’s attention. My wife’s cell phone was next to her on the bar. She picked it up.

Text from wife: “Ok. So this guy is really handsome. There’s no way he’s going to hit on me, right? Should I find a different seat?”

Me: “You never know. Just hang out there for a minute and see.”

I’m not sure that she saw where I sat down. The bar area was more brightly lit than the seating area and, from my experience, I know that you cannot see the faces of other people in that lighting scheme. To her, it must have felt like she was texting me from a hundred miles away.

Derek was good. He was not too overbearing at first. I could tell he was easing into this … or easing her into it. After a few minutes, I noticed them talking more. He had turned in her direction and was subtly inching closer. He ordered her a second drink. They continued talking for another twenty minutes with no real excitement, but then something happened.

He leaned in and whispered something in her ear and, when he did, he put is hand on the outside of her thigh and held it there.

My pulse quickened. Another man’s hand was on my wife’s leg, and I was frozen at my table. My eyes widened, and I nervously sucked at my drink. How would she react? She laughed at whatever it was that he said … and she did not move away. She let him keep is hand there! Not overstaying his welcome, after a few seconds he moved his hand from her leg to the back of her bar chair. At this point, they were mere inches apart.

She excused herself and took her phone and purse with her, but her left her jacket behind on the chair. She wasn’t done yet, just heading to the bathroom.

Text from her: “OMG! I can’t believe it. This guy is totally into me. Are you seeing this?!?”

Me: “I’m seeing it! I TOLD YOU SO! You are hot AF, and clearly this guy wants you ”

Her: “Have you had enough? Should we go??”

I thought about it, hard, but then I remembered what he had said. I couldn’t be the one to pull the rip-cord. It had to be her.

I texted back: “It’s your call, baby. I’m so turned on by watching this, I could see some more. Whatever you want to do is ok by me.”

She came back from the bathroom and sat down by her suiter. He wasted no time resuming his flirtations. She was barely back in her seat when he put his arm around her back and scooted closer. She smiled and tilted her head to the side, biting her lip. She only bites her lip when she is horny. I thought about her pussy getting wet while flirting with this guy, and started getting hard underneath the table. Before long, their legs were touching.

The next thing I knew, he had stood up and put is hand out. She took it and they started walking toward the dance floor. The band was playing an upbeat number that matched the tempo of my beating heart but, almost on que, they switched to a slow song when they got near. My wife laughed and turned to head back to her seat, but Derek held firm and pulled her into him.

My palms started sweating and my teeth clenched as I watched her push her breasts into his chest. His hands were on her hips as they swayed back and forth. I watched intently as one hand slid up  between her shoulder blades and the other passed the crest of her lower back, resting on the top of her round ass.

I looked down to find my drink and, as I poured a swallow into my mouth, I nearly choked on the liquid. He leaned in and kissed her. And she accepted it! They were rocking back and forth to the beat and I just stood watching as another man’s tongue was inside my wife’s mouth.

My hand reached for my phone. I wanted to text her a message to stop. I wanted to run in and break this up, but I was frozen. I was paralyzed. He broke off the kiss and whispered something in her ear. She smiled. They suddenly broke their embrace, walked back to the bar, grabbed their things and headed toward the door. I was stupefied. Where were they going?

Just as I thought about running after them, my phone buzzed.

My wife: “Hey!! Don’t be mad! It was just a kiss. You said you were up for anything, right?? Anyway, we just went to his car for a quick cigarette, and then I’ll say goodbye and come back.”

I counted the minutes. One. Two. Five. Ten. Fifteen. This was not turning out to be a quick cigarette. Then, finally, I saw her walk back into the hotel lobby. I immediately got up and went to her. Something was off. She looked like she had seen a ghost.

“Let’s get out of here,” was all she could say.

When we got into our car I was silent. So was she. It was deafening. Finally, she turned me and spoke.

“We have to go to a pharmacy,” she said.

I was deeply confused. All I wanted to know was what happened. Why did I feel like something had changed forever?

“Why? What happened?” I asked nervously.

It was then that she spoke three words that I had no idea could do what they did to me. Before this evening, I didn’t know it was possible to have your heart broken into a million pieces at the very same time you become more aroused then you ever had before. Her lips trembled.

“He came in me,” she said.

We sat there silently. I didn’t know what to do.

“Please just drive,” she said, “I need to get a Plan B pill.”

Without speaking, I drove to the pharmacy. We parked, went inside, and walked to the counter. When she asked for the Plan B pill, the pharmacist, a middle aged man, gave us what he thought was a "knowing" glance. He knew nothing. He returned with a paper bag, put the pill box in it, and then reached under the counter and put a handful of condoms in the bag as well.

“For next time,” he said while winking at me.

Little did he know she didn’t need this pill because of me. Little did he know she was filled up with another man’s cum. Little did he know my wife had just been fucked while her husband sat helplessly in a bar.

When we got back to the car, I couldn’t take the suspense anymore.

“I want you to tell me everything,” I said.

She gave me a guilty glance.

“Are you mad?” she asked.

I took a deep breath and swallowed.

“No,” I said, “I won’t be if you tell me everything, I promise.”

“Well, okay. So you saw everything that happened in the bar. Then, we went out to his car. I thought it was strange that he wanted to get in the back seat, but he said he always smoked back there so that the smoke smell didn’t get into the front seats. I guess I was too tipsy to notice the difference. We shared the cigarette, and he kept inching closer to me.

"Before I knew what was happening, he was kissing me again. It just felt so good to be wanted, to be desired. I felt so sexy. I thought about how you had just seen him kiss me inside and didn’t do anything, so I thought it might be okay. I wasn’t about to stop and text you about it. And then. Well... his hands were all over me. He had me so worked up that I didn’t even feel it when his hand went up under my skirt. It was so quick but, then, all of a sudden, his finger found its way passed my panties. He started fingering me.

"At that point, I don’t know what came over me. I was just so overcome with desire. I thought for a second that this was just like high school again, getting fingered in the back of someone’s car. He was leaning his weight on me, so I spready my legs a little. I swear to God, I didn’t even hear his zipper or anything. But as soon as I opened my legs a little, he pushed inside.

"I panicked! I tried to stop, but it was too late! He was just thrusting away on top of me. I tried to push up, but he was going so hard. I haven’t been fucked that hard in forever. After a minute, I just felt there was no stopping it, so I let him keep going. I’m so sorry. I don’t know why. I’m just so sorry. He grabbed underneath my knees, tilted me back, and pushed so deep. Then, he started cumming.

"I freaked out and told him to get off me. I was out of the car before he zipped back up and I ran back to the hotel.”

She ripped open the Plan B box and guzzled the pill. My hands shook. I was as hard as rock, but she had this guilty look on her face.

“I know this was supposed to be a sexy night of adventure for us. I’m so sorry, hun. Can you forgive me?”

I told her yes. She said she just wanted to go home, take a shower, and sleep. I watched her undress when we got home. When she pulled off her panties, I saw Derek's juicy cum sticking to her pussy lips. I laid next to her all night, sleepless.


The next morning, she woke up early and went to work. I walked around the house like a zombie for an hour, then I decided to check my emails. When I logged in, I saw it. There, sitting at the top of my inbox was a new message from Derek. The subject line read: “WOW!”

I couldn’t help myself. My trembling fingers moved the mouse and I clicked. The email read as follows.

“Hey. Just wanted to say thanks again for last night. Your wife is a quite a lay! You are a lucky man. If you two ever want to do this again, just let me know. Anyway, it’s been my experience that cuck husbands, like you, like to hear about their wives’ sexcapades, so I thought I would tell you what happened from my perspective.

"From the moment I sat down, I could tell she liked me. She didn’t put up any resistance to any of my advances. I’m sure you saw everything that happened in the bar, so I’ll fast forward a bit. Needless to say, after I asked her for a blowjob she was eager to get to my car.”

I paused for a second on that sentence. My wife didn’t mention anything about a blow job.

“When we got into the back seat I started kissing her immediately. I had already jerked off to the pictures you sent a few times, and I was ready for the real thing. She wasted no time unzipping my pants. Once she had her hand on my cock, I was already hard. I didn’t have to say anything; she just went for it.

"I guess I don’t need to tell you, but your wife gives a fantastic blowjob! She sucked my cock like it was going out of style. It took everything I had not to cum after only a few seconds. Not many girls can deepthroat me, but she certainly could! And that thing she does by swirling her tongue around the head … holy shit!

"After a few minutes of that, she crawled up and whispered to me in this totally sexy voice. She said, ‘I want you to fuck me.’ Oh, my god. It was so hot! She hiked up her skirt, straddled me, and sank my dick into her pussy. Man, is she ever tight. Well, a little less now. Sorry about that!

"She rode me so hard. When was the last time you fucked her, if I may ask? She was grinding her hips so hard, it was like she hadn’t been fucked in years. I pulled her top down and started sucking on her nipples. Does she always smell like vanilla? I just can't stop thinking about how good her pussy felt. She was so fucking tight and wet. They way she squeezed my cock while she twisted her hips back and forth with it fully inside her was amazing.

"Before long, I felt like I couldn’t contain myself anymore. I told her I was going to cum, but she didn’t dismount. It actually made her start bouncing up and down even faster. I exploded inside her! It was one of the best orgasms of my life!

"She dismounted, and then bent over and licked the juices off my cock. God, what a woman! Anyway. That’s the story. Like I said, let me know if you guys are up for this again.”

I looked down at the cum in my hand. I hadn’t realized I had been masturbating while reading the story of my wife fucking another guy. There was a pit in my stomach, though. Why was her story so different? Who was stretching the truth here?

I closed my laptop and walked to the bathroom to grab a towel. On the way, I stopped by the laundry basket. I couldn’t help myself. I opened it up and grabbed her soiled panties from the night before. They were crusted with a mix of her pussy juices and Derek’s cum. My heart sank, and my cock grew hard again. I wrapped them around my hand used them to jerk myself off.


Like I said, the story above happened a few weeks ago. Our sex life certainly has improved, so I guess it worked, but now I find myself wondering about her when she’s gone out shopping or comes home a little later than usual from work. I can’t get the image of her fucking other guys out of my head. It makes me want her so much more.

As I was writing this, it occurred to find that brown paper bag. I found it in our dresser, and there were 4 condoms in it. I swear I remember there being much more than that. Has she been using them? Did that night with Derek open up a whole new side of her? Is she the same woman as before? Is it Derek again, or is she just sleeping with every guy she’s secretly lusted after for years? How many other men have penetrated her, these condoms wrapped around their cocks as they fuck my wife?

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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