You never forget your first time trying something new. I've certainly not forgotten the first time that my husband fucked someone else and I was involved.

We'd talked about it for a long time, lying in bed, touching each other, spinning a tale in our shared imagination, his fingers slipping in and out of me as he described how it would feel to empty himself into another woman, me imagining watching it... It got to the point where I knew I had to find out if doing it for real turned me on as much as imagining it.

We went to a dance club; not a bar-with-a-dance-floor but a converted warehouse in a slightly dodgy end of town with a cheap cover charge and no seats. Drinks in hand, we leaned against the bar and talked about the clientele as the dance floor started to fill up.

Heavy bass pounds from giant speaker stacks and he has to lean in close, his lips brushing my ear for us to talk. I point out girls to him and ask him what he thinks: Too skinny; too fat; nice legs; gorgeous tits; terrible dress; fantastic outfit.

I realised that being a cuckquean is a little like being bisexual: you can't help but see other women in a sexual light, undressing them with your mind and imagining your husband, deep inside them; his cum splattered across their face.

As the dance floor fills up I see my husband start to move his body to the music. He's always loved dancing, ever since we met. I feel awkward and self-conscious on the dance floor but after a drink or too my love looses his inhibitions and lets his body flow with the music.

It's so fucking hot.

He gives my hand a squeeze and he starts to prowl. He's dancing as he's moving around the room, looking for someone to dance with, his hips bucking and swaying with the pounding bass, his toes and heels tapping down in time to the complex rhythm of the music.

A girl sees him and their eyes meet. As he moves towards her he starts to dance harder, pouring energy into his moves, flowing with the music. She's black, with her naturally curly hair tied back in a tight scarf. She's wearing a slinky tight white dress that falls to her lower-thigh but has a flirtatious mesh panel that dives in a sweeping V from her neckline to below her navel.

She's drawn into his vibe, moving with him as he moves towards her. He takes her hand and she lets him spin her around, into his arms, her back against his chest. To the sound of the thumping bass, she grinds her ass into his crotch and he has his hand on her hips, caressing her body.

My stomach is churning, but I'm excited. I feel like I'm on a first date, and in a way, I am - my husband and I are dating another woman. We talked about this, about the difficulty of communicating in such a situation. He's going to go with the flow, and if I feel uncomfortable, I'm to text him. He'll feel the vibration of his phone in his pocket, make an excuse, and come back to me. We'll debrief and decompress and maybe try again another time.

But there's no way I'm stopping this now.

He slips in front of her and they're grinding together face-to-face, keeping eye contact but leaning back as they grind their hips together. Then they slip closer and he takes her in his arms and they're dancing bachata style, she grinding into his upper thigh, him into hers, his hands on her neck and upper back.

He drops her back into a dip away from him and then pulls her back in. He's taking her hands and spinning her away from him, and she starts to perform for him, high energy moves, her body moving sinuously with the rhythm of the bass. She moves towards him and he spins her back in, against him, and they're moving in the bachata step again.

He spins her away, and back, away and back. He leans in for a kiss, but she playfully rejects him, a smile playing across her lips. His hand is on her upper back and neck again as he dips her. I can see her grinding herself hard against his upper thigh as he draws her back up and tries again for the kiss.

She relents and melts into him.

I feel a shiver down my spine as I watch my husband making out with another woman. I'm nervous, but excited, like waiting in line for a roller-coaster. I can't help but feel a twinge of his disappointment as she steps back, and I catch the word 'bathroom' on those lovely dark lips.

He's got his phone, holding it out for her number. She's looking at him, taking him in. She gets a naughty look in her eyes and then she beckons with one finger.

"Come."

He smiles seductively and slips his phone back into his pocket. He leads her towards the bathrooms, not holding her hand, but confident she's following.

I wonder what she and he have in mind and slip off my stool and follow them. As I move through the packed crowds towards the bathrooms I can't help but feel the eyes of guys and girls on me.

I didn't dress super sexy for this evening-- just jeans, heeled boots and a nice top-- but still I see guys approaching for me, showing me their moves like my husband did for the girl - I appreciate the flattery inherent in their approach, but I'm only here for two people - for my husband, and the girl he's taking to the bathroom.

The bathrooms in this place are weird. All stalls, unisex, with a shared sink area. There's male and female toilet attendants keeping an eye on things as well as offering a plethora of perfumes spanning the spectrum of sexuality from masculine musks to feminine florals.

I arrive in the washing area just in time to see her slip into a stall. My husband is nowhere in sight. With nothing better to do I slip into the stall next-door and sit down.

I hear a muffled giggle from next to me and then the sound of a belt buckle being undone. A thought occurs to me. I slowly lean over and... yes! I can see his black leather shoes, behind her heels in the stall next door. Pressing my ear to the partition I can hear her heavy breathing, and the rhythmic slap slap slap of his balls against her clit as he thrusts his thick dick into her tight pussy. The bass, muffled by the cinder-block walls of the toilet block, pounds in time with his thrusting.

She starts to moan louder, "Oh yeah..." I hear her breathe. I hear him urging her to touch herself and I imagine her hand slipping down between her legs, under her skirt, feeling him as he thrusts into her, his thick white dick and her tight black cunt. She would find her pussy slick with her own juices and eagerly start to rub herself.

"Cum for me," she begs him, "I want to feel you unload inside me. Fill me up. Fill me to the brim."

I hear the pace quicken, my husband thrusting twice for every beat of the music. He can't stop dancing - even as he rhythmically fucks her, he throws in a syncopated off-beat thrust that makes her moan so loud I worry the attendants will hear.

I hear him grunt as he empties himself into her and she cries out, "Oh yeah, I'm cumming as you're cumming into me. I'm going to milk you dry!"

He gives her a few last thrusts and I see his shoes step back and hear the noise of his belt-buckle and the rustle of his jacket. There's more kissing, then the sound of fingers tapping on glass phone screens, and then her stall door opens.

Not knowing what else to do I open mine too. My husband is still inside their stall to divert attention, but I see her standing at the sink, washing her hands. The flush on her cheeks is hard to make out with her dark skin but I'd recognise that smile anywhere - I see it in the mirror every time my husband is finished with me.

She catches me looking at her in the mirror and turns slightly to see me. She slowly checks me out, her eyes roaming hungrily over my body. She flashes me a seductive smile.

Splat.

The noise makes me look down, and I see some white fluid on the floor between her high-heeled feet.

Suddenly I realise that's my husband's cum, even now dripping from her cunt. The cheeky bastard fucked her bareback, filling her with his hot semen from his bare cock.

The girl turns to walk away and I hear a click behind me as my husband opens his stall door.

I need him in me. Now.

Casual as you like, I stroll into it as if it had been open all along, pushing a surprised husband back into the stall. My hands on his hips, I slip behind him to sit on the closed toilet seat lid. He grins, he knows what's happening as I frantically tug at the zip on his fly, my eyes wide with arousal.

He's still semi-hard as I tug him out and slip him between my lips. I can taste her cunt on his dick. Oh God, why does that turn me on so much? Why am I getting so aroused by the taste of another girl's pussy on my husband's thick shaft? Eagerly I start to lick him, my tongue finding all the places where her taste still clings to him, her juices mixed with his familiar cum-taste.

He's getting harder as I'm licking him. I can feel his shaft throbbing as it fills with blood, swelling in my hand and in my mouth, as if he's reaching with it, reaching deep inside me.

I start to suck him, stroking his shaft with my fingers and caressing the head with my tongue. He's only just cum and I can taste his semen mingled with the other girl's juices clinging to his thick member.

Nevertheless, under my eager, hungry caress he doesn't last long and soon he's spilling another cum-load into my mouth and I eagerly swallow the hot and salty fluid.

I stand and smile as he tucks himself back into his trousers.

"That was..." I start to say.

He looks me in my eyes, "...really fucking hot. Let's do it again, cuckquean."