In the 90s, when I was twenty-seven and married for seven years, my first husband and I entered the swinger lifestyle. We were swingers for about two years and members of two swinger clubs. While in the swinger lifestyle, I was involved in orgies and was consensually gang-banged more than once.

While I am no longer in that lifestyle for many years and have no desire to go back, I admit it was exciting, fun, and sexually fulfilling. I loved it. I was not coerced, manipulated, or forced into it by my then-husband. I was the one who suggested it and found the Swinger Clubs for us to go to.

My introduction to that lifestyle began before I became a swinger. It began when I was twenty-five, when my husband encouraged me to fulfill a sexual desire I had with an eighteen-year-old boy who had lived with us since he was seventeen. I was a great “wife” to both of them.

At my suggestion, we were later joined by a twenty-two-year-old redhead, whom I knew from work. She also moved in with us. The four of us often had sex in various partner pairings.

People whom I met during my time as a swinger would have been surprised by my life before I met my first husband. I met him when I was twenty, and I was still a virgin. I was not a very sexual person until I lost my virginity.

I was a pretty girl when I was younger. I still think I am attractive at age fifty-seven, but when I was younger, I was pretty. I am five feet, six inches tall. I frosted my light brown hair blonde and still do so to this day.

I was really into sports and outdoor activities, and my body was athletic but with nice curves. I had a slender waist; my thirty-six D breasts were firm and perky and tipped with light brown nipples. I had a great, slight bubble butt that was firm.

I never really cared if I was pretty or not. Oh, that is not to say I didn’t want to look nice, and I wore makeup, but I was not vain about my looks.

I was adopted by an older couple when I was not even a year old, and I never cared to find my birth mother. I had parents I loved and who loved me. They were in their forties when they adopted me. My mother and father were strict but fair.

My mother was a devout Pentecostal and a very religious woman. My father was not so much. He went to church with us, but he also hid a bottle of whiskey out in his work shed that he would take a nip of often. He would never get drunk, but he took a few sips. He never knew I knew about his bottle, and I never said a word about it.

I loved my parents, both are now deceased, and they loved me, but they were strict and not affectionate with each other. I never remember seeing them so much as give each other a peck on the cheek or show any loving affection for one another, and for as long as I can remember, they slept in separate bedrooms.

They were great parents, and my father never missed a sporting event of mine, and my mother and I went shopping together often. When I was fourteen, my mother started allowing me to wear makeup and took me to get my first makeover, where I learned what tones were best for my complexion and how to apply it, etc. They spoiled me, but I was never a spoiled person.

When my mother gave me the sex talk, she explained sex as a wife’s duty to her husband. I gathered from how she explained sex to me that she never thought much of sex or romance, or passion.

When I was sixteen, I was allowed to date even though I already had a boyfriend from school. But at sixteen, I could go out on dates with him. We dated throughout high school and while I was in my first three years of college.

While I never had sex with him, I enjoyed the affection and the kissing and didn’t think I was a prude. But I didn’t really get all turned on and have a desire to have sex. Then, after about a year of dating, I started giving him hand jobs and then blowjobs. I liked giving him blowjobs even though I never let him cum in my mouth.

I did enjoy seeing his cum explode out of his cock when he had an orgasm. But still, I never had a desire to have sex, and I didn’t masturbate. Maybe it was because growing up, I never saw passion between my parents, and how my mother described sex to me. That all changed when I was twenty and met my future husband.

I was a junior in college when I met Patrick. He was the older brother of a boy, one of my friends was dating. I never thought about love at first sight, but when I first saw Patrick, I fell in love, and that is not an exaggeration. I never felt a desire to have sex until I saw him for the first time.

Just watching him the first time we met as we sat at dinner with my friend and Patrick's younger brother I felt tingling in my pussy and it got wet. When he talked to me, I would giggle and twist my hair from nervousness and had to cross my arms over my chest to avoid my erect nipples being seen.

Patrick was five years older than me, and when he asked me out that same day I met him, I told him yes. But being a good girl and the type of girl I was, I was not going to cheat on my boyfriend or even date another person. I broke up with my boyfriend just to go out on a date with Patrick.

Patrick was handsome. To use a popular term at the time, he was a hottie. He stood six feet, three inches tall, had short light brown hair, and a muscular body with well-defined muscles but not the over-muscular body of a bodybuilder. He was also polite, charming, a real gentleman, and had a great sense of humor.

I was so impressed when he opened my car door for me. It was funny when, after we left the restaurant, another couple was getting in their car, and the girl told the man she was with, "Why don't you do that for me?"

Even though it was not important to me and never has been, I will add that he has a beautiful eight-inch penis.

After our first date, we made out with an intense passion I had never felt before, and I even let him fondle my breasts and nipples. On the second date, I gave him a blowjob, which was my suggestion, and I let him cum in my mouth. On the third date, I let him take my virginity, again, my suggestion.

God, it was amazing! He first made me orgasm by using his mouth and fingers on my pussy and then two more times when we had sex for the first time. We had sex four times that first night, and I had orgasm after orgasm. After that, I became insatiable.

I wanted Patrick to fuck me all the time and as many times as he could. I loved sucking his cock, swallowing his cum, and I wanted him to fuck me in every position I could think of. I did things with Patrick that I never thought I would ever do, and what I once considered disgusting.

I let him lick my butthole, use his tongue in my butt, used my tongue in his, and I even let him fuck me in the butthole. I let him shoot his cum over my body and on my face and would greedily use my fingers to scoop it up and eat it. I could not get enough of him.

Our lovemaking varied, and it was all great! He would make love to me with intense passion, fuck me hard and rough, and we would have intense quickies. After only four months of dating, he asked me to marry him, and I did not hesitate and said yes.

Patrick did the right thing and asked my father first. My father was sad as fathers get when a man asks them to marry their daughter, but he said yes because he knew I would marry Patrick without his permission. My mother told me that the first time they met Patrick, my father told her, “Jennifer is going to marry that man.” We got married six months after we got engaged.

Married life was great! I loved my husband, and he loved me, and we never fought. We had tiffs and minor arguments but never fought. The times we did argue, we had great makeup sex. Our sexual desire for each other seemed to increase. Patrick introduced me to sex toys, and I loved them! I was the perfect wife for him, and he was the perfect husband.

I am not a submissive woman, not at all. I can be stubborn and willful, and was not the type of girl to be pushed around or manipulated.

But I was a domestic wife. I did work, but I enjoyed cleaning the house, cooking meals, washing my husband's clothes, and keeping an organized household. I even took care of the bills. Patrick was not very good with money and enjoyed spending, and while I was no Scrooge, I was more of a penny pincher than my husband was. He didn't mind and appreciated my ability to handle our funds.

Sexually, I did surrender to him and enjoyed it when he took control of me when we had sex, but I often initiated sex between us. I could not keep my hands off of him and always wanted him.

Patrick was in the Marine Corps Reserve when we met and got married, and stayed in the Reserves after our marriage. He had spent six years on active duty and then stayed in the Reserves.

I hated to be away from him. His reserve duty was only one weekend a month and two weeks out of the summer, but I still hated even that little time away from him. I loved him almost obsessively, but not in a bad way.

I was not a nagging wife; he did things with his friends, and he had no issues with my girls' nights with my friends. I did sometimes get jealous when other women looked at him, but never accused him of cheating because I knew he would never do that.

Patrick never got jealous of me, nor did he care when other men ogled me, even when I was wearing my bikini. He seemed to find humor in it and would tease me about it. I think he enjoyed having men lust after me.

Things changed in our marriage after we had been married for 5 years when a boy named Justin turned eighteen. Justin was not a stranger, and I had known him since I met Patrick when the boy was twelve or thirteen. Patrick was a Big Brother in the Big Brother organization, and Justin was his Little Brother.

Justin was a fixture around our house when he was younger, but as he got older, he stopped spending time with his Big Brother, which happens. But Patrick and Justin remained close. I was close to the boy also, and I enjoyed having him around when he was in his early teens. He was a great kid, and I thought of him as a little brother.

Justin started hanging around the wrong crowd, and when he was seventeen, he was arrested. It was nothing serious, just possession of marijuana. But his mother refused to bail him out and even told the police to let him stay in jail for a while. She was not a mean woman or a bad mother, but apparently, Justin had tested her patience to the limit.

Justin called Patrick, and he went and got the boy from jail. Three days later, at his hearing, Patrick told the judge he would keep Justin on the straight and narrow. The judge charged him with a misdemeanor and no jail time.

Patrick was serious about keeping Justin on the right track. He got the boy a job, and after talking to his mother and getting her approval, Justin moved in with us. I didn’t mind. We had room in our three-bedroom house that had a finished basement with a bathroom and a small kitchen area. Justin had a little one-room apartment to himself.

Plus, I liked Justin. He was a good kid and always respectful to me. It was nice having him around. He seemed to enjoy helping me with things around the house and helping my husband with the yard work.

I didn’t like his girlfriend, though. She was trashy, and I didn’t like her. She was pretty, I had to give her that, but of course, Justin would have a pretty girlfriend. He matured into a handsome seventeen-year-old.

Justin let his dirty blonde hair grow longer when he started hanging out with his skater friend peers. It came down to his shoulders and was straight and silky fine. He stood an inch over six feet and had a nice, lean athletic body.

Justin’s being in our home did nothing to affect our marriage or our sex life. After five years of marriage, I was still insatiable with my husband, and we were still having a lot of sex. What did happen, though, was that I started to become attracted to Justin.

I was not going to do anything about it, and there was nothing to it. I was not going to cheat on my husband, who I was still hopelessly in love with and who sexually satisfied me until I was left breathless, exhausted, and satisfied.

Justin also developed a crush on me, and I thought it was cute and was flattered by it. His crush was obvious by the way he was always willing to help me around the house and how he looked at me when I wore my bikini to the community pool in our subdivision when I wore my short jean cutoffs or other more revealing clothes.

I didn’t tease him or dress for him to see more of me, but the longer he lived with us, the more comfortable I was around him, and it seemed normal to walk around the house in just a T-shirt and panties. He was like a little brother to me. I honestly didn’t think anything of it.

I didn’t think anything about it until Justin turned eighteen and I started to find him sexually attractive. I lot of women may have dressed more provocatively around someone they knew had a crush on them and who they found sexually attractive, but not me. I started making sure I dressed more conservatively. It was flattering before, but when I became attracted to him, I no longer wanted to even give a hint of encouragement.

Patrick knew Justin had a crush on me; it was that obvious, and he didn’t mind. I was married to him for five years, and he never once showed any signs of jealousy. Patrick often teased me about the boy's crush. I had no idea he knew I was attracted to Justin. I thought I hid it well. Then one night, after my husband and I had made love, things started to change.

I was still panting and enjoying my euphoric state after getting well fucked. I was cuddled up against my husband and running my hands over his masculine, hairy chest.

“I wouldn’t care if you let him fuck you,” Patrick told me.

“What?” I asked, not understanding what or who he meant.

“Justin. You can let him fuck you if you want to,” he clarified.

I laughed and playfully hit him on his chest. “Don’t be silly and stop teasing me. I can’t help it he has a crush on me.”

Patrick chuckled. “A crush? The kid wants you so bad. It’s more than a crush.” Patrick kissed the top of my head. “And I know you are attracted to him.”

“I am not,” I protested and laughed. I thought my husband was still teasing me.

“Yes, you are. I see how you look at him when you think I am not watching and how you subtly flirt with him,” Patrick told me. “The other day, you were practically drooling when he was cutting the grass without his shirt on.”

“I was not…drooling,” I giggled. I was watching, and I was not going to lie to my husband. I never lied to my husband.

Patrick laughed. “Ok, you weren’t drooling, but it made you horny.”

“It did not,” I protested.

“Yes, it did because before he was finished you found me in the work shed and seduced me because you were horny, after watching him,” Patrick said and laughed again. “Hey, I didn’t mind what got you going. I am never going to complain when you want to suck my cock and then want me to fuck you regardless of what gets you all worked up.”

Patrick was right but I didn’t know he knew why I found him in the work shed, shut and locked the door, started kissing him, and then got on my knees and pulled down his shorts and started sucking his cock. After he came in my mouth, I pulled down my shorts and panties, bent over the workbench, and begged him to fuck me.

I started blushing. “What? I can’t want to have sex with the man I love without it being someone else who turned me on? I love you, baby, and I always want you.”

“I know, darling, and I love you and always want you also, but I also want to see you happy and satisfied so if you want to let him fuck you, I don’t mind at all. I am not jealous, and I know you love me and will never love another man. It’s just sex, and nothing wrong with wanting another person and acting on it.”

I started getting both suspicious and scared. “What…are you having sex with someone else?” I asked, and I started crying with just the thought of my husband having an affair.

Patrick took me in his arms and rolled me to my back, and started kissing the tears off my face. I wrapped my arms around him as he kissed away my doubts.

“No, baby, I am not having an affair,” he whispered in my ear as his fingers started playing with my erect nipples.

I thrust my hips up into him, “Enter me, Patrick, please. I need you inside me,” I pleaded with my husband. I believed him.

I made a loud gasping moan when he penetrated my pussy. My husband started making love to me. My orgasm came quickly.

“Fuck me, baby, please fuck me!” I cried out. I wanted him to fuck me hard after he made me cum when he made love to me.

He placed my legs on his shoulders and used his body weight to push them over my head. Patrick then started fucking me and he fucked me hard. Over my screaming moans of ecstasy, I could hear the slapping sounds of his body against mine, the bed creaking, and the box springs under the mattress squeaky loudly. God, I loved when my husband fucked me hard!

As he fucked me I had a brief thought about the noise we were making, my moans, my husband's masculine grunts, me crying out for him to keep fucking me because I was going to cum again, and the noise the bed was making. I wondered if Justin could hear us, even though the boy lived in the finished basement of our house.

I secretly hoped he had come upstairs for something to drink from the kitchen, even though he had a refrigerator in his basement room. Or come upstairs for some other reason. I wanted him to hear me getting fucked and for him to know what I sounded like when I had sex.

I wanted the boy to know how I moaned loudly. I wanted him to know how I made loud gasping screeching sounds when my husband’s cock drove deep into my pussy. I wanted him to know how I sounded when I begged my husband to keep fucking me. I wanted the boy to know how I called out to God when I go fucked. I wanted the boy to know how I made a loud, long, continuous, high-pitched sound when I had an orgasm.

“I’m cuming…. Oh God, I’m cuming!” I cried out as I thought of Justin hearing me have sex.

I didn’t think of the boy fucking me as I had another orgasm, but I did think of him masturbating as he listened to my husband and me having sex. I imagined what his cock looked like as he stroked it fast and hard. I imagined what it looked like when his cum spurted from his cock when he climaxed. The thought made me cum and then cum again right after.

Patrick could not read my thoughts, but after the conversation we had, I don’t think he would have minded if he could have. I would not tell him, but if by chance he did ask, I would admit the truth. I never lied to my husband and would not start. He was right, there was nothing wrong with being sexually attracted to someone else, as long as you don’t act on it.

I had another orgasm about three minutes later, that third time had nothing to do with Justin, it was all my husband. Patrick soon came inside me afterward. He lay on top of me, and I held him tight to my body. I loved clutching him and feeling his sweat-damp body against mine after we had sex. I loved feeling his chest rise and fall as he caught his breath. I loved feeling his heart beating fast against my chest. I loved feeling his hot breath on me as he breathed heavily. I loved everything about my husband, and now I loved him even more, if that was possible, that he was not jealous, I was sexually attracted to another man… well, a boy.

The next couple of weeks went by, and neither my husband nor I ever brought up the subject of having permission from the man I was married to, the man I was hopelessly in love with, to have sex with another person. But things did change.

Now that I knew Patrick was aware of my sexual attraction to Justin, I once again started dressing more provocatively around the boy. I started flirting more with him. To my shame, I even started to take advantage of his lust for me.

I felt guilty about that, but I did it anyway. I was not the type of woman to take advantage of people or use my looks and body to entice people, but I did with Justin. I admit, I liked knowing he wanted me.

I was also honest with my husband when I became aroused being around Justin or becoming aroused when seeing him half-naked at times. I would tell my husband I was horny and needed to be fucked. I wouldn’t tell him why, but he knew. Patrick would laugh and tease me, but he always fucked me or let me give him a blowjob.

I felt confused as well. I was confused by my strong attraction, even lust, for Justin. How could I love my husband as much as I did, and God did I love my husband, and have lust for another person?

I was a virgin when I met my husband, and while he taught me a great deal about how to please a man sexually, he did not teach me about being in love with one man and lusting after another.

It was about a month after my husband first told me he would not mind if I let Justin fuck me when I brought up the subject again. We were in bed at night, and I was giving him a blowjob. We had already made love twice that night, and my husband had already given me four orgasms. The first was when he used his mouth and fingers on my pussy and the other three when we had sex, but I wanted more.

I had been extremely horny all day. Patrick and Justin had done a great deal of yard work that afternoon and seeing the sweat glistening off their shirtless bodies made me horny. I stood at the window and watched them both for a long time. My eyes went from Patrick to Justin, then back to my husband, and then back to the eighteen-year-old repeatedly. As I watched them my nipples became erect, and my pussy became wet.

When both of them came into the house to eat the lunch I had made for them, I could smell their masculine, sweaty scent as they sat at the dinette table in our kitchen, and it aroused me even more.

Later that afternoon, when the men were done with the yard work and taking their showers, I washed the clothes they wore. When I picked up my husband’s sweat-damp underwear, I smelled the crotch. I inhaled deeply to take in the pungent scent that aroused me. I often smelled Patrick's dirty underwear before I placed them in the washing machine.

When I went into the basement as Justin was in the shower to gather up his clothes to wash, I did the same with his underwear. The first time I ever did that with his. I was so horny that I suggested to my husband we go to bed early. Once in the bedroom, I lustfully attacked him.

My husband was on his back, and I was between his legs sucking his cock. I pulled my head up and looked at Patrick.

“So, how do I go about it?” I asked.

Patrick chuckled. “You know how to suck a cock,” he told me. “You're great at it.”

I blushed and playfully slapped his thigh and giggled. “Not that, silly. How do I go about getting Justin to fuck me?”

Patrick laughed. “Hell, Jennifer, the boy is eighteen years old and has a huge crush on you. He gets so much as a whiff of your sexy pussy, and he will fuck you.” I blushed at my husband’s vulgarity, but I liked it also. His dirty talk always embarrassed me, but also always turned me on. “Seriously, baby, your pussy is amazing, and he will love it as I do.”

I rolled my eyes. “I am sure it feels no different than any other girl’s,” I told him.

Patrick ran his fingers through my hair. “It’s not just how it feels, baby, it’s how it looks. Your pussy is sexy. You have such a nice, fat pussy with thin pussy lips that aren’t all flappy,” my husband told me.

I was blushing again at his description of my pussy, but I was glad my husband thought it was sexy. I started sucking his cock again, making sure I went slow and sensual. I loved having my husband’s eight-inch cock in my mouth.

“Seduce him,” my husband told me after several minutes had gone by.

I raised my head again and took his cock out of my mouth. “I am not good at that,” I admitted.

“Bullshit, you know how to seduce me,” Patrick told me.

I giggled. “That’s because you are my husband, and I know what you like. You showed me what you like, and you make me feel sexy.”

“That’s because you are sexy,” he told me.

I really did suck at flirting and seducing. Yes, I could seduce my husband and did it often, but that was easy. I not only lusted after my husband, but I loved him, and that made it easy for me.

I knew I was pretty and had a nice body, but I never saw myself as sexy. There is a difference between being sexy and being pretty. I knew women who were pretty and not sexy, and I knew women who were not that pretty but were sexy. I knew men who were the same. I happened to have married a man I found both sexy and handsome, and now we had an eighteen-year-old boy living with us who was the same.

I always felt my pretty looks were too innocent-looking to be sexy, but I believed Patrick when he said I was both. I knew he would never lie to me, and I was happy he found me both sexy and pretty. Patrick made me feel sexy.

I don’t think I ever would have done the things I enjoyed doing sexually unless it had not been for the love of my life. While I got sexual pleasure from doing them, I got pleasure from making him feel good, too. I dressed in sexy lingerie for my husband, not because I thought it made me look sexy or feel sexy, but sometimes I felt silly in the things I wore. But I wore it because my husband thought it was sexy, and that made me feel sexy.

I smiled at him telling me I was sexy and once again took his cock in my mouth. Again, I went slow and sensual to enjoy it and to give him pleasure.

“Get on top of me. I want you to fuck me,” Patrick told me.

I shook my head and giggled again. “No, not yet. Lift your legs,” I told him. He grinned. He knew what I wanted to do. He liked it when I did that, and I liked doing it.

Patrick lifted his legs and raised his butt off the bed. I placed my hands on his butt cheeks, lowered my head, and started licking his butthole. He moaned out as my tongue made circular motions around his anus. I enjoyed the taste of his sweat from his earlier excursions from us having sex mixed with the taste of my pussy fluids.

I never would have even thought about doing such a thing to a man until one of my girlfriends in college told me she and her boyfriend did it. At the time, I thought it was gross, but when I started having sex with my husband before we were married, I wanted to do everything with him. I did it once, he enjoyed it, I liked it, and he often returned the favor when he used his mouth on me. I enjoyed it when he used his tongue in my butthole.

Patrick was moaning and started slowly stroking his cock as my tongue was in his butthole. I was moving it inside him and enjoying how much pleasure I gave him. He told me he couldn’t take much more, and I giggled and got on top of him.

I fucked him hard and fast as he fondled my breasts and played with my nipples until I had another orgasm. After I came, I lay my body on top of his, Patrick placed his hands on my butt cheeks and started thrusting up into me with powerful thrusts. I was making loud moaning grunts and screaming my husband’s name and to God as he fucked me. I came once more and before my orgasm ended, Patrick’s cock exploded cum into my pussy.

I lay on top of him, panting for air and enjoying the blissful ecstasy of my after-orgasm feeling. I gripped his body tightly, not wanting to let go. I wanted to hold him like that forever and never let him go. Our male friends always told Patrick he was lucky to have me as his wife, and my husband wholeheartedly agreed, but I felt lucky to have him as a husband. I felt lucky I would have him as my husband for many years, and when we were ready, I would have his children.

I started to softly cry. Patrick brushed my hair behind my ears and kissed my tears. He was used to this because I cried at times after we had sex. They were tears of joy, not sadness, and he knew that.

I suddenly giggled as I sat up, rolled off of him, and cuddled next to him. “Sorry,” I told Patrick.

“I love you too, Jennifer,” he told me. He knew my tears were a way of telling him how much I loved him.

“Will you still love me if I have sex with Justin? You won’t think I am a whore?” I asked, suddenly sitting up on the bed and looking down at Patrick.

That was a fear of mine, I thought about it over the last month since Patrick first broached the subject. I was terrified my husband would not love me and think I was a whore.

Patrick smiled and started caressing my thigh. “I will always love you, baby, and I won’t ever think you’re a whore,” he assured me, and I believed him. “But you know, acting like a whore sometimes does not mean you are a whore,” he teased.

I playfully slapped his hand away and feigned indignation. “I don’t act like a whore,” I protested.

Patrick laughed. “Only a whore enjoys sticking their tongue up a man’s asshole,” he kept teasing me.

I blushed again. “It’s fun and you like it,” I muttered and then looked at him. “I won’t do it anymore then,” I told him in a defiant tone.

He laughed at me again. “Yes, you will, you like it too much and like when I do it to you too much to not do it again,” he teased. “Do that when you fuck Justin. I doubt he ever had a girl do that to him, and he will like it.”

“I am not sure I want to have sex with Justin,” I told my husband. “Well, I want to, but I don’t know if I will,” I added. “Do you really want me to?” I asked and lay back down and cuddled next to my husband. He put his arm around my shoulder.

“Baby, I don’t mind either way. That’s up to you,” he told me. “Just know if you do, I will not think less of you and I will still love you and I won’t think you are a whore.”

I smiled. “I know you won’t and I know you will always love me as I will always love you,” I told my husband. I never had any doubts that my husband loved me, and no doubt I loved him.

“I have my reserve duty this weekend, leaving Thursday afternoon and coming back Sunday. That might be the perfect opportunity,” Patrick told me.

“I hate when you leave,” I told him. I did hate being away from him for even a single night.

He smiled and kissed my forehead. “I know, but I have to go.”

We had a long discussion on the possibility of my having sex with Justin. I won’t go into all the details; that was a long conversation with lots of pros and cons, but I will disclose the summary of it. One of my worries was what if the boy fell in love with me, and he would start resisting my husband. Patrick laughed and told me the boy was most likely already in love with me, but he was confident Justin would not resent him.

We both agreed that if I did do the deed with Justin, it could not be just a one-time thing. I would have a “secret” affair with the boy. We both cared too much for him for me to just tell him it was a one-time thing and have him move out because it would complicate our marriage.

I asked Patrick if he would want to watch me and the boy have sex. To somehow hide while the boy fucked me. My husband told me no. I found I was disappointed at that. The thought of my husband seeing me getting fucked by another man aroused me.

Patrick told me that he didn’t even want me to tell him the details of when Justin fucked me and again, I was disappointed but didn’t say anything. We both agreed not to let Justin in on my husband knowing about me and the boy having sex.

There was a lot more to our conversation, and I told Patrick that I felt bad. I felt that it would be like he and I were using Justin in some perverted sex game. Patrick laughed and reminded me again that Justin was an eighteen-year-old boy who wanted me so badly that he would not even care if he was being used or not. It still made me feel bad, however.

It was decided that if I was going to seduce Justin, then I would do it when my husband went out of town for his Marine Reserve duty. I still was not sure if I was going to go through with it. I still had so many doubts about how it would affect my marriage as well as my relationship with Justin. For some reason, Patrick had no doubts about it.

I didn’t have to mention that I was not sexually satisfied with my husband’s lovemaking and fucking. He knew I was and never had a lack of confidence he didn’t satisfy me every time. After five years of marriage, our sex life only got better.

I have had some of my friends confide in me that after a couple of years of marriage, their sex life decreased, and it seemed their desire for each other lessened. I even had one of my friends who got divorced after just two years of being married tell me that once she and her husband married, he seemed to no longer desire her, and they rarely had sex.

I told my husband, and he said that was a pity. He said Caren was so sweet, adorable, and sexy, and she deserved a man who desired her. Parick informed me that some men felt that once they married a girl, they had conquered her and the desire for her decreased. I found that awful, and I certainly did not have that issue with my husband. Patrick seemed to want me even more each year of our marriage, and I was more than happy to satisfy his seemingly insatiable desire for me.

After our conversation ended, I was once again aroused. The conversation turned me on. I started kissing my husband’s naked, hairy chest, sucking his nipples, and licking his stomach.

As I was licking his stomach, I looked up at my husband. “Fuck me, baby, fuck me like a whore,” I told him. “If I am going to act like a whore, I want you to fuck me like one,” I told him and giggled.

I stopped giggling when Patrick reached down, grabbed a handful of my hair, and pulled hard. I made a gasping whimper of pleasure. He sometimes pulled my hair and spanked my butt when we had our times of rough sex, and I enjoyed it.

While we enjoyed dirty talk during sex and foreplay, my husband was normally more vulgar than I was, he never verbally humiliated me by calling me a whore or a slut. He had too much respect for me. He may fuck me like one, but he never called me one and I was glad of that. I didn’t enjoy being called those names.

“Suck my cock, Jennifer, before I pound that sweet, tight pussy of yours,” he told me with a tone of authority. “Then I’m going to fuck that sexy, tight asshole.”

I giggled once more at his crudeness as Patrick forced my head to his semi-erect cock. I parted my lips and took him in my mouth. He quickly became fully erect. I liked the feeling of it getting hard in my mouth.

This time I did not give a sensual, slow blowjob. My husband took my request to be fucked like a whore to heart. Still pulling my hair, he pushed my head down until his large eight-inch cock was fully in my mouth and down my throat. I can normally deepthroat him but being forced that quickly I started gagging and choking.

While I didn’t mind him doing that at times and I enjoyed it, I still placed my hands on his thighs and tried to push myself away, but to no avail.

“That’s it, baby, choke on that cock like a good girl,” My husband told me.

I was choking on it. It was not long before my eyes started to water as I gagged and choked, saliva coughed out of my mouth. Patrick held me down for a few more moments and then pulled my hair to lift my head. When his cock slipped out of my mouth, I coughed and retched, and more spit poured from my mouth as I retched a second time.

“Still want to suck a cock and be fucked like a whore?” Patrick asked me in a kind tone to his voice. I retched a third time and nodded my head. “God, I love you,” Patrick told me. “No husband could ever have a more perfect wife.”

I smiled. I knew he didn’t mean just sexually, but me being his wife in every way. I felt the same about my husband. He was perfect!

My smile was erased from my lips when Patrick pushed my head down again, and I took him in my mouth once more. Patrick held my head still and started thrusting his pelvis up, driving his cock in and out of my mouth. I was soon making gagging and gurgling and gulping sounds as my husband fucked my mouth.

Patrick fucked my mouth for several minutes and then I whimpered as he once more pulled my head away from him by my hair. I was again gasping for air and coughing and retching.

“Lie down on your back,” he told me.

I quickly moved next to my husband and lay on my back. Patrick moved and spread my legs and kneeled between them.

“Show me your pussy. Play with it for me,” he ordered me.

I smiled again. I had never touched myself or masturbated before I met Patrick. He liked to watch me touch myself, and I enjoyed him watching me.

I started by tracing my fingers up and down my pussy slit and watched my husband staring between my legs. I moaned out when I inserted one finger into my wet pussy and moaned out again when I put a second finger inside me.

It was not long before I was fucking myself with three fingers of one hand and playing with my rock-hard nipples with my fingers from my other hand. I was moaning and squirming with pleasure. Having my husband watch me made it more arousing.

“Oh God!” I cried out when Patrick reached down, pulled up my clit hood, and started massaging my hard clit with his forefinger. “Don’t stop, oh baby, don’t!” I begged. I knew I would orgasm soon.

Patrick reached over my body and placed his forefinger and index finger in my mouth. I started sucking them like I sucked his cock as he pushed them in and out of my mouth. All the while I was fucking myself and he was stimulating my clit. I didn’t know how long I could last before I climaxed.

My husband was an expert at making me cum. But then again, I had never so much as had my pussy touched by another man before so I didn’t have anything to compare it to. All I knew was that my husband could make me orgasm in less than a couple of minutes if he wanted me to. He could play my pussy like Mozart played the piano. My husband was a maestro with my body.

Patrick knew my body, my moans, and my reaction to the pleasures he gave me as if it were his own body. He knew I was going to cum soon.

My husband pulled his fingers from my mouth and slick with my spit, he pushed them into my butthole. I made a loud, grunting moan of pleasure and then louder moans as I orgasmed.

I enjoyed having an orgasm with his fingers or cock in my butthole. It seemed to intensify my orgasm, and I liked how it felt when the muscles of my rectum constricted and released repeatedly around his finger or cock.

After my orgasm ended, I lay panting and made a whimper when Patrick lifted my legs and pushed them up over my head. He was not going to let me enjoy the blissful feeling I got when I came. I lifted my arms, wrapped them around his body, and pulled him to me. I cried out again when my husband entered me. He then started to fuck me like I wanted to be fucked, like a whore.

Patrick fucked me hard and brutally and I loved it! As he fucked me, he kept telling me how good my pussy felt, how wet I was, how tight my pussy was, and how much he loved my pussy.

I didn’t say much at all. I couldn’t say much. I was screaming out in bliss. I occasionally cried out my husband’s name and to the Heavenly Father. Over my moans and screams, I could hear the bed squeaking, the headboard banging against the wall, and my husband’s grunts of exertion. Sweat dripped off his body and onto my face. I licked the drops that fell close to my lips.

I came again and then about two minutes later came again as my husband ruthlessly fucked me. I knew he was going to take a long time to cum. He had already had cum a few times that night and I knew the more times he had an orgasm the longer he would last the next time. Maybe it was like that with all men, I didn’t know. I had never been with another man.

My husband fucked me nonstop for about thirty minutes. My husband was fucking my brains out and I enjoyed every second of it and had more orgasms.

After my last orgasm, Patrick pulled out of me, and I lowered my legs. He straddled my chest to lean over to get the lubricant from the nightstand drawer. His cock was in my face, so I opened my mouth and started sucking it.

I never had sexual thoughts about another woman and while I never tasted my pussy before, I used to think it was gross to do so. Now I enjoyed sucking my husband’s cock after he had been inside me and tasting my pussy and cum.

Patrick had the bottle of lubricant in his hand and moved off my chest. I then noticed he also held the six-and-a-half dildo in his hand. It was one of the sex toys we used. I smiled because I knew he was going to fuck my ass with his cock and my pussy with the dildo.

I made a whimper when his cock slipped out of my mouth. My husband grabbed my legs and turned me over to my back. He slid his arm under my belly and raised my ass. I placed my head on the pillow and looked over my shoulder with anticipation of being penetrated anally.

I watched as my husband lubricated his penis and then buried my head into my pillow when I felt his cock press against my anus. I gave grunting moans as my husband penetrated my butthole in three slow, gentle thrusts. Once he was fully inside me, Patrick started to slowly rotate his hips to stretch out my tight hole. I gave a series of grunts.

I soon looked over my shoulder again. “Fuck me, baby, fuck my ass,” I told him the words he was waiting for.

Patrick was always considerate when we had anal sex. He made sure I was ready for him and never thrust in and out of me until I told him I was ready.

He started slow, and it felt amazing. It was a completely different type of physical pleasure than having my pussy fucked. It was a strange, pleasant feeling that I enjoyed.

“Harder, please harder, baby, please fuck me harder!” I cried out.

I enjoyed it when he went slow, but I loved when he fucked my butthole hard. When we made love, it was amazing and I loved it, but when he fucked my butthole, I always wanted it hard and rough. I thought that was odd, but I didn’t care. It was how I liked anal sex.

Patrick reached down, grabbed my hair, and pulled my head odd the bed. I moaned out in a mixture of pain and pleasure. My husband then started to fuck my asshole hard and almost as brutal as he had just fucked my pussy. It was great!

As he fucked my butt and pulled my hair, Patrick slid a hand under my stomach and started finger fucking my well-used pussy with four fingers. I was again loudly moaning and screaming with pleasure and begging my husband to go even harder. He did not disappoint. He never disappointed me.

He would pull his cock out of me until just the tip was in my ass and then thrust it back in hard, slowly pull out of me, and thrust it into me hard. He did that over and over as he continued to fuck my pussy with his fingers.

I loved the feeling of his cock in my ass and the dildo in my pussy at the same time. It felt as if somehow the pleasure nerves in my butthole and the pleasure nerves in my pussy were connected to give me incredible pleasure.

Patrick soon started fucking me in hard, steady thrusts and I enjoyed his grunts of pleasure and excursion. I had another orgasm and as mine ended, Patrick grunted out he was going to cum.

He pulled the dildo from my pussy, thrust it into my ass so hard that my head banged against the headboard, and I felt him make a series of small, quick thrusts into my butthole as his cum shot into me.

After his orgasm ended, he pulled out of me and rolled over to his back. I immediately moved my body and placed my head in his lap and took his cock in my mouth. I was glad we used strawberry-flavored lube.

“See, you may not be a whore, but you sure know how to act like one,” Patrick told me as I sucked his cock that had just been in my butthole. I made a muffled laugh as sucked his cock for a few more seconds.

Just like when I liked his cock in my mouth after he fucked my pussy, I liked doing it after he had been in my butthole. I never in my wildest imagination would have thought I would ever do something like that, but with my husband, I wanted to, and I found out I liked doing it. I often teased him that he corrupted me.

We lay in each other’s arms for a while before I fell asleep, my sexual desires completely sated. As I drifted off to sleep, I briefly thought about Justin. I never thought about him when I was having sex with my husband. I never fantasized about Justin fucking me when my husband was fucking me. I was so consumed with my husband and my love for him, and he sexually satisfied me completely it was impossible to think of another man fucking me.

But after I did think of what it would be like with Justin. Would he fuck me as well as my husband did? I doubted it. I knew I would enjoy it, but I also knew he could never fuck me like my husband did.

As I was about to fall asleep, I smiled and thought maybe I would find out in five days when Patrick would be gone, and I would be alone with the boy. Just maybe I would seduce him.

I had a decision to make. It was a decision that would change my marriage, change my life, and change my sexual pleasures for the next 4 years. I have only one regret about the choice I was going to make; I regret I didn't do it earlier in my life.