No!" she said. "No fucking way. No! No! No! Is there any part of that you don't understand?"
She didn't leave me with many options. I had just asked my wife of fourteen years if she'd be willing to fulfill a fantasy of mine of seeing her with another man. I knew her well enough to know that this would probably be her first reaction but still her vehemence startled me. I could tell that she was upset and very hurt.
"How could you want such a thing? Why? To see some strange man use me. No. No... fucking... way!" Her eyes glistened with tears.
I put my arms around her. She was stiff and distant, her eyes averted. I held her and stroked her back. My desires weren't something I could easily explain. I loved her. I loved her so much. And our sex life wasn't bad although we'd settled into something of a routine. But I had the feeling we were missing a dimension of life and somehow this idea of including another man seemed like it would open a door to that space beyond. It was a feeling I found impossible to communicate.
We both felt bruised for the next couple of days. And the week or so after that was a mixture of remoteness and quiet flashes of the old intimacy. Finally, as we watched an old movie on TV, the lost warmth returned and she came to lie beside me on the couch. It felt so good to feel her pressing against me, rubbing her bottom against my crotch, and later, to feel her kisses grow hot as I touched her soft smooth skin and her slick wetness, to hear her sighing as I slipped inside.
Yet that small grain of irritating sand that I'd brought into our relationship remained. For me it was a matter of struggling to come to grips with what it was I really wanted, what it was I felt was missing. For Adele, my wife, as I learned only later, the experience was one of opening a place in her mind that had been, until I'd given her a key, tightly padlocked with fear and the strictures of convention.
At the time we each felt totally alone. We could share sweet warmth within the confines of the old assumptions but as we explored further, roaming among the possibilities of love outside the norm, the air grew more frigid. But, as we subsequently discovered, we each, in our own way, found the adventure bracing.
For a long time I couldn't get past the images of seeing Adele opening wide and a stranger's cock invading her. She'd, to the best of my knowledge, and I believed her, only known two other men before me. Two short term affairs before we'd met. So I thought it was the invasion, the taboo, that stirred me. In my imagination I heard her quiet cries, stranger's names spoken with ardor, but didn't really listen.
Unbeknownst to me, while I was at work and before the kids came home from school, Adele had begun searching the Internet for ways to use this little key I'd given her, ways to assuage the irritation of the grain of sand. Seek and ye shall find, we're told. Seeking on the Internet can go a long long way. No telling what you'll find. One of the doors that opened for Adele was a site that offered a smorgasbord of people with a jaw dropping variety of sexual interests. Very timidly, after going back to the site again and again, she decided to place a little profile of herself. One not entirely true. She was not in the least bit prepared for the onslaught.
The first day after placing her profile there were twenty two messages from men. The day after that there were thirty four. Plus four from women. It got worse after that. At first it was kind of interesting to look at a strange penis but once she'd seen about thirty five the novelty sort of wore off. She began looking for something a little more distinctive. Most of the messages were short and not very illuminating. Occasionally a man would send a clothed photo. Once in a very great while a man would send a clothed photo and a message that appeared to have been written by a thinking person. These were the ones she decided to answer. The first order of business being to straighten out all the crooked parts in her profile.
