You probably wouldn't think so to look at my wife. She's not a so-called 'hot wife' or a swinger or anything like that. She's never been a flirt or made a play for men. She doesn't dress provocatively. In fact, you could say she's pretty ordinary, the kind of woman a man might glance at and think nothing of. Not a bad looker, but then again nothing special.
It was 8 years ago now when my wife had an affair with a guy who'd been lodging with us a while. I call it an “affair,” which I think it was to her mind, an exciting adventure, a bit of romance to liven up her boring life, a thrill of acting naughty. To him, though, it was quite different. To him it was just a casual fuck with a needy housewife, and she was no more special to him than the other wives he had seduced and fucked.
He was a friend of a friend, in need of a place to stay, so I thought it'd be okay to take him in for a while. The rent would definitely come in handy. I had no thoughts at all about her going with him. She didn't even like him that much, not when he first came to stay. She said he was big-headed and sexist, and he seemed to like winding her up on purpose. It got so bad I thought she would ask me to tell him to go. But it never even crossed my mind that he would have designs on her. I guessed I was so used to her that I took her a bit for granted and forgot that other men might see her quite differently, with a fresh eye, as all women, a “bit of stuff,” a challenge.
I don't know when it happened exactly, but things changed. He was one of those smooth-talking bastards who always seems to get their own way with women, and once he turned on my wife with the charm and the flattery, they stopped bickering. I was relieved that they seemed to have made peace, and she even ended up agreeing to do some of his ironing for him, something she'd absolutely refused to do. But it seemed her favors didn't end with that, and she ended up dropping her knickers for him, and he was fucking her in the afternoons while I was at work.
In retrospect I realized there were other changes, small insignificant changes, but had I been on the ball, I might have seen them as signals. Like she usually wore tee shirts or sweatshirts, nothing revealing, but she took to wearing shirts, maybe with one or two buttons undone. Not to flaunt her cleavage but enough to ****** her neck and the skin above her where her boobs started. She also started wearing skirts, not short of anything, but enough to show that she had legs.
My wife tries to make out she is a feminist, but how can you talk about equality when you are on your hands and knees with your tits dangling and being shafted from behind by a man who has total control over you and isn't going to let up until he has put his sperm in your belly? And if it ends up with you having his bastard, well, it's not his problem! None of that looks much like equality to me, but it's the way nature meant it to be...
I think it was my wife arguing with the lodger about feminism that set him a challenge—he decided that he wasn't just going to bandy words with her; he was going to show her that men are the boss, at least in the bedroom. And in a way he was right. If she was such a feminist, then why did she allow herself to be seduced by a man she said was a chauvinist pig?
How do I know all this? Well, I didn't, not for a while anyway. It had been going on for a couple of weeks before I found out when she blurted it out during a row. I was totally shocked. She regretted blurting it out and begged me not to confront him. She said he would probably challenge me. He was not the sort of guy who'd say, 'Oops, sorry about shagging your wife; I won't do it again.' No, he was more likely to threaten me. It could get nasty.
So, reluctantly, I took the coward's way out and turned a blind eye, hoping that it would fizzle out of its own accord when he got bored. Once he was satisfied. He'd set himself a challenge and won her over, proving to himself that feminism really is bullshit and that 90% of housewives are really gagging for it.
I often masturbate when looking at the full-frontal nude picture of her. It's because she's not looking at me but looking at her lover. She is excited. It has always fascinated her that by stripping naked, a woman has such power over a man that she can make his penis erect, that she can make him want her. She thinks it is great that a woman has that power, to make almost any man want to fuck her. But she also knows that her power won't work on the same man too many times, and once he has fucked her a few times, he will simply walk away, possibly leaving her with a fat belly and a bastard.
So that's the situation we lived with for a while. It wasn't as if my wife ever flaunted it in my face, and whatever happened between them happened during the day, the afternoons, probably, when I was at work and out of the way. Sitting in the office at work, I would sometimes allow myself to think of what was happening back at home. It wasn't him fucking her that aroused the feelings of jealousy; it was imagining them nude together, my wife walking about in her bra and panties, casually half-undressed, or floating about in just a shirt, ******** her belly and pubes, and I imagined bursting in and telling them to stop, but then seeing him there with his slowly subsiding erection, I would see that it was already too late, that he had already put his warm sperm deep inside her belly, and she seemed to be proud of the fact.
That's how I imagined it.
Then, a few weeks later, I had an aftershock. It seemed that my wife had told him about her 'confession,' and he wasn't happy at all. It would be one thing fucking a man's wife, but did she have to go and blab!
It all came out when he invited me out for a drink one evening, which was unusual because we had never really socialized before. He seemed nervous, ill at ease, and it was quite a shock when he suddenly launched into a big apology. He said he knew that my wife had confessed to their affair—and he'd been mortified. He hadn't expected her to go that far. But he was honest; I'll give him that. He wasn't going to be a hypocrite and didn't want to apologize for having sex with her. He said any man would have. She may not have been his type, he said, yet there was something about her that had fascinated him—a mix of inexperience and innocence, yet still she had made it obvious that she wanted to be fucked by him. And who was he to refuse if a woman offered herself? He'd known the first time he saw her naked that it would be a good fuck. So no, he wasn't going to actually apologize for doing what any man and woman do. At the same time, he had some old-fashioned ideas about propriety and doing the right thing, and shagging a man's wife was one thing, but not if he knew about it; that wasn't right at all.
He said he had been offered another job and was hoping to move out within a couple of weeks. He would be out of our hair then, and maybe my wife and I would get back to some sort of normal married life. He did warn me, though, to keep an eye out on her. She wasn't a bad looker, and if he had wanted to fuck her, then he wasn't the only guy by any means, and she had clearly shown her willingness to be bedded by another man. I'm sure he added another notch to his bedpost!
It was 8 years ago now when my wife had an affair with a guy who'd been lodging with us a while. I call it an “affair,” which I think it was to her mind, an exciting adventure, a bit of romance to liven up her boring life, a thrill of acting naughty. To him, though, it was quite different. To him it was just a casual fuck with a needy housewife, and she was no more special to him than the other wives he had seduced and fucked.He was a friend of a friend, in need of a place to stay, so I thought it'd be okay to take him in for a while. The rent would definitely come in handy. I had no thoughts at all about her going with him. She didn't even like him that much, not when he first came to stay. She said he was big-headed and sexist, and he seemed to like winding her up on purpose. It got so bad I thought she would ask me to tell him to go. But it never even crossed my mind that he would have designs on her. I guessed I was so used to her that I took her a bit for granted and forgot that other men might see her quite differently, with a fresh eye, as all women, a “bit of stuff,” a challenge.
I don't know when it happened exactly, but things changed. He was one of those smooth-talking bastards who always seems to get their own way with women, and once he turned on my wife with the charm and the flattery, they stopped bickering. I was relieved that they seemed to have made peace, and she even ended up agreeing to do some of his ironing for him, something she'd absolutely refused to do. But it seemed her favors didn't end with that, and she ended up dropping her knickers for him, and he was fucking her in the afternoons while I was at work.
In retrospect I realized there were other changes, small insignificant changes, but had I been on the ball, I might have seen them as signals. Like she usually wore tee shirts or sweatshirts, nothing revealing, but she took to wearing shirts, maybe with one or two buttons undone. Not to flaunt her cleavage but enough to ****** her neck and the skin above her where her boobs started. She also started wearing skirts, not short of anything, but enough to show that she had legs.
My wife tries to make out she is a feminist, but how can you talk about equality when you are on your hands and knees with your tits dangling and being shafted from behind by a man who has total control over you and isn't going to let up until he has put his sperm in your belly? And if it ends up with you having his bastard, well, it's not his problem! None of that looks much like equality to me, but it's the way nature meant it to be...
I think it was my wife arguing with the lodger about feminism that set him a challenge—he decided that he wasn't just going to bandy words with her; he was going to show her that men are the boss, at least in the bedroom. And in a way he was right. If she was such a feminist, then why did she allow herself to be seduced by a man she said was a chauvinist pig?
How do I know all this? Well, I didn't, not for a while anyway. It had been going on for a couple of weeks before I found out when she blurted it out during a row. I was totally shocked. She regretted blurting it out and begged me not to confront him. She said he would probably challenge me. He was not the sort of guy who'd say, 'Oops, sorry about shagging your wife; I won't do it again.' No, he was more likely to threaten me. It could get nasty.
So, reluctantly, I took the coward's way out and turned a blind eye, hoping that it would fizzle out of its own accord when he got bored. Once he was satisfied. He'd set himself a challenge and won her over, proving to himself that feminism really is bullshit and that 90% of housewives are really gagging for it.
I often masturbate when looking at the full-frontal nude picture of her. It's because she's not looking at me but looking at her lover. She is excited. It has always fascinated her that by stripping naked, a woman has such power over a man that she can make his penis erect, that she can make him want her. She thinks it is great that a woman has that power, to make almost any man want to fuck her. But she also knows that her power won't work on the same man too many times, and once he has fucked her a few times, he will simply walk away, possibly leaving her with a fat belly and a bastard.
So that's the situation we lived with for a while. It wasn't as if my wife ever flaunted it in my face, and whatever happened between them happened during the day, the afternoons, probably, when I was at work and out of the way. Sitting in the office at work, I would sometimes allow myself to think of what was happening back at home. It wasn't him fucking her that aroused the feelings of jealousy; it was imagining them nude together, my wife walking about in her bra and panties, casually half-undressed, or floating about in just a shirt, ******** her belly and pubes, and I imagined bursting in and telling them to stop, but then seeing him there with his slowly subsiding erection, I would see that it was already too late, that he had already put his warm sperm deep inside her belly, and she seemed to be proud of the fact.
That's how I imagined it.
Then, a few weeks later, I had an aftershock. It seemed that my wife had told him about her 'confession,' and he wasn't happy at all. It would be one thing fucking a man's wife, but did she have to go and blab!
It all came out when he invited me out for a drink one evening, which was unusual because we had never really socialized before. He seemed nervous, ill at ease, and it was quite a shock when he suddenly launched into a big apology. He said he knew that my wife had confessed to their affair—and he'd been mortified. He hadn't expected her to go that far. But he was honest; I'll give him that. He wasn't going to be a hypocrite and didn't want to apologize for having sex with her. He said any man would have. She may not have been his type, he said, yet there was something about her that had fascinated him—a mix of inexperience and innocence, yet still she had made it obvious that she wanted to be fucked by him. And who was he to refuse if a woman offered herself? He'd known the first time he saw her naked that it would be a good fuck. So no, he wasn't going to actually apologize for doing what any man and woman do. At the same time, he had some old-fashioned ideas about propriety and doing the right thing, and shagging a man's wife was one thing, but not if he knew about it; that wasn't right at all.
He said he had been offered another job and was hoping to move out within a couple of weeks. He would be out of our hair then, and maybe my wife and I would get back to some sort of normal married life. He did warn me, though, to keep an eye out on her. She wasn't a bad looker, and if he had wanted to fuck her, then he wasn't the only guy by any means, and she had clearly shown her willingness to be bedded by another man. I'm sure he added another notch to his bedpost!
