Beware the Cuckold Fantasy!

This is the story of how I destroyed my marriage by arranging to have another man fuck my wife. It was a fantasy I had dreamed about for years, and I thought for sure I could handle it. Instead, my relationship with a beautiful, loving, and loyal woman was left in shambles as I watched her get taken to scintillating new sexual heights by another man.

We were a happy couple, and I'm not just saying that. After nine years together, four of them married, we were doing just fine. I was working as an accountant for a small firm, making decent money, and Julie had a secure job as a high school English teacher. With our two salaries we weren't rich but we were comfortable, with a nice small house in the suburbs.

Our sex life was good, or so we thought. Julie was relatively inexperienced sexually when we got married. We met in college, and she had only one lover before me, a nerdy guy who was unimpressive physically. I could be described as average—about five-foot-nine, thin frame, not much of an athlete—but I matched up pretty well compared to her first guy. Anyway, Julie and I usually connected pretty well in bed, and she always let me know she was satisfied.

In hindsight, I now realize that our sexual routine had gotten somewhat predictable and limited, as neither of us were real adventurers. Julie and I didn't really talk about our fantasies very often, but occasionally we did. One of those times, I confessed to being turned on by the thought of seeing her have sex with another man. I said it in a way that let her know I didn't really expect the fantasy to be fulfilled, and she understood that I meant it that way. I was just being open and honest, and she appreciated it. The conversation soon turned to something else, and we both forgot about it.

Another time, as we lay in bed engaged in pillow talk, we had one of those conversations about who we found most attractive in our daily lives (aside from each other, of course). For me, that answer was easy—there was one girl, a cute secretary in the office named Maria, that I had been checking out for months—but in answering I didn't blurt out Maria's name right away. Instead, I cleverly took my time and acted like I had to ponder it, so Julie wouldn't think I was obsessing over Maria.

When it was Julie's turn to answer, she also had to think about it (or at least, like myself, she pretended she did) but when she finally responded the answer was no real surprise. "Stanley, I guess," she said nonchalantly. "He's a good-looking guy."

That was an understatement. Stan was a co-worker of Julie's, a gym teacher and football coach at the high school. Tall and strong, with a pleasant personality, he was the kind of guy who turned ladies' heads. He was muscular but not a musclehead, well groomed, with gentle blue eyes—the classic tall-dark-handsome type. It was no surprise that Julie, or any other woman, would find him attractive.

Feeling very secure in my marriage and not being the jealous type, I soon forgot about the conversation and didn't give Stan another thought until several months later, when Julie decided to host a cookout for some of her coworkers and Stan was among those who attended. Little did I know how fateful this day would be.

Julie's work colleagues arrived and I acted as the good host, offering them drinks and cooking up food on the grill. Even when Stan showed up, the previous conversation that I had with Julie didn't come immediately to mind. It was just Stan the friendly gym teacher, whom I typically saw several times a year like most of Julie's other work colleagues. Since Stan wasn't married it wasn't unusual to see him with a girlfriend by his side at social events, but today he showed up by himself.

The day proceeded uneventfully at first, with everyone seeming to have a good time. Some people enjoyed the pool, and I especially enjoyed seeing Julie looking very attractive in her little yellow bikini. At 29, she had a smoking hot body—she stood five-foot-seven, with slender legs, a tight little ass, and lovely 36C breasts that perfectly fit her frame. Her autumn hair and bright green eyes sparkled in the sun, and I'm sure every man there must have admired her.

Initially, there was nothing unusual happening. If Stan noticed how hot Julie was—and I'm sure he did—he didn't let on. He first spent some time chatting with others then went over and played some volleyball. After working up a sweat, he grabbed himself a beer and headed for the pool, which was where Julie and others were. I was grilling up burgers when I looked toward the pool and saw him taking off his shirt. I knew he was a good-looking guy, but I had never seen him shirtless before, and I immediately noticed how cut he was. This guy really takes care of himself, I thought to myself. It was then that I first recalled my conversation months earlier with Julie. Yep, she was right, Stan definitely is a handsome guy.

But still, despite my less impressive physique, I wasn't feeling at all jealous or insecure. I had spent my life being the small, skinny guy, the geek who succeeded in life without having been endowed with the greatest looks. To my credit, I had caught a girl that many would say was way out of my league, and I never had any reason to question the stability of our marriage. So the fact that there was a guy with movie-star and pro-athlete looks nearby, contrasting sharply with my own, was nothing new to me, and I didn't perceive it as a threat.

To be honest, when I first noticed Julie and Stan in the pool together, I spent a few minutes dwelling on my fantasy. Not that I thought it would really happen, of course, but I imagined having the pleasure of seeing her bent over the side of our bed getting fucked by Stan. Remembering now that she had told me that she found him attractive, it was even more fun to visualize the fantasy, although the rational side of my brain knew it was outlandish to consider it happening in real life.

As I was standing there with that sex scene in my head, feeling my groin getting a bit tighter as the thoughts continued, I noticed that Julie and Stan were interacting with each other in the pool. It was nothing unusual, but they seemed to be laughing, talking, and having fun. Julie wasn't a real flirt, but as I watched them I sensed that there might be some chemistry. Or was it just my dirty mind? There was no question that they were the two most physically attractive people at the cookout, both of them looking like models in their swimwear, and in my imagination that made it all the more plausible that there could be a mutual attraction.

Julie was always mindful of decorum, so as a married woman she didn't hang around Stan for too long. But I watched her carefully as the day continued, and I noticed that she seemed to discreetly keep an eye on him, and vice-versa. After they had both had a few drinks their attraction was even more noticeable to me, though of course they were making an effort to conceal it from their co-workers and myself.

There was one moment, however, that really stood out. Although they had kept their distance from one another all day after their first interaction in the pool, I saw them together a second time in the early evening. I was on the deck mixing a drink when I observed them standing together in the yard, and it looked like Julie, now wearing short shorts and a loose-fitting T-shirt over her bikini, was whispering something into Stan's ear. After a few seconds, I saw Stan freeze, like he had been told something surprising. Julie soon finished whispering, but she stayed right next to him, smiling wide, with her hand on his bicep. Stan, who had been stooping slightly so that Julie could whisper in his ear, now stood up straight, seeming very surprised, and as he did so he looked around the yard until he spotted me on the deck. He seemed startled again when he saw that I happened to be looking at him, but when our eyes met he just grinned slyly. Julie's eyes also met mine, and as they did her face became devilishly guilty.

There was no mystery to me about what had just happened. Clearly, Julie and Stan were flirting, and she must have told him something about my fantasy—there was no other explanation for the whispering and the subsequent reactions. Wow, I thought to myself, this might be getting serious!

Always one to play it cool, Julie left Stan's side and went on socializing with other guests. Stan found some guys to chat with, and I finished mixing the drink I had been working on. Not long thereafter, after some of the guests had left, Julie found me and nestled next to me, seeming quite affectionate, which wasn't unusual for her after a few drinks. This time, however, it seemed like there might be an agenda.

"Gerry, remember your fantasy?" she whispered to me with puppy-dog eyes, surely knowing that I did.

"Oh yes," I smiled, "I do." As I said this, I was careful to answer in a tone that let her know she was not offending me by bringing it up. I knew Julie well enough to know that my reaction would be important. Already thinking ahead, I realized that if there was any chance of making this actually happen, I would need to play my cards right.

"Well, if you really want it," she said, clearly floating a trial balloon, "I think Stan might be willing."

The look on her face was just delightful, for I could see that she was a bit tipsy and very hungry for sex. I could tell that she genuinely appreciated that my fantasy was consistent with the lust that she was experiencing. Maybe she had wanted Stan badly for years but had always been a good wife and a professional co-worker. Now her deepest desires were within grasp, and her face showed just how much she wanted to fulfill them. I paused as I looked into her eyes, letting her know that I understood, relaying to her without words that I wanted it as much as she did. Finally I whispered to her, with a calm but upbeat assurance, "Let's do it if we can!"

With that, I moved away to interact with other guests, tactfully letting people know that things were winding down. Julie found Stan again and had a few discreet words with him. As other guests grabbed their coolers and backpacks, Stan hung around without standing out in any noticeable way. When the last guests had left and it was just the three of us left, I avoided the initial awkwardness by going to the bathroom.

As I stood there pissing into the toilet, I realized that my wife would probably be getting fucked by Stan unless I did something to stop it. Could I handle it? Yes, I told myself. Did I really want it to happen? Yes, I did, I told myself. This was confirmed by the blood rushing to my dick as I thought about it. Let's do it, I thought to myself as I zipped up my fly.

I went out to the living room, and Stan was standing there looking surprisingly relaxed. Julie was a few feet behind him, back in the kitchen, and they both looked at me. Stan, seeming incredibly composed considering the situation, broke the ice. "Gerry, I understand you have a kind of . . . fantasy," he said, grinning. Like a good coach, he had a way of talking that made you feel like he could help you reach your goal.

"Yes, I guess I do," I replied, trying to act as cool as he seemed.

As I spoke, Julie walked toward Stan with a fearlessness that was surely made possible by a day of poolside drinking. Stan looked at her and reached out as she approached. When she got close enough, he put his hand on her waist and pulled her close, embracing her with just one arm. Holding her tight against his body, he looked over to me as she stared up at him. He raised his eyebrows as if to say, "If this is what you want, buddy, I'm glad to oblige," and then he looked down at Julie's beautiful face.

Julie wasn't looking at me at all, but only waiting for Stan to take charge, which I'm sure she knew he would. Still holding her in just one arm, he paused momentarily as he felt her hot body against his—her legs slightly straddling his thigh as she stood against him, her breasts buried against his rib cage—and he stroked her face with his other hand, savoring the moment.

He didn't kiss her right away, which surprised me, because they must have had so much locked up lust. Instead he stroked her face more, and each time he did so she seemed to become a bit more helpless. She was melting as he held her firmly against his body. Her eyes were closed, opening only occasionally as if to confirm that she really was with him. Finally, at long last, he lowered his head, lifted her a bit, and sealed a kiss onto her lips. I heard her gasp lightly, and I could feel the passion ooze from both of them.

This was an emotional avalanche for me, seeing my wife this way with another man. Their kiss was deep and intense, and there was little doubt that something powerful was being unleashed. I noticed right away how different Julie's connection to Stan seemed from her connection to me. His strong physical stature allowed him to handle her easily. Her delicate, sexy feminine frame seemed small next to him, and he held her effortlessly as she collapsed with their kiss. This was a wholly new experience for her.

Their lips locked for the longest time, separating only so that Stan could kiss her gently all over her face and down on her neck, to eventually return to a deep, tongue-filled connection. Stan began stroking Julie's breasts as he kissed her, and I could see her loving it, reflexively sticking out her chest to invite more. After a few minutes, he uncurled his arm from around her, allowing her to stand up in front of him momentarily, whereupon he lifted her T-shirt up over her head and off. Now her luscious breasts, supported by the bikini top, were before his eyes, and he leaned forward and softly set his lips upon them. I watched as he licked the top of one breast, then the other, before traveling up toward her neck. Julie's head tilted back and her eyes closed as she relished the attention.

At this point her bikini top was still on, but that didn't last long. As Stan buried his face into my wife's neck, he clasped on to the front of the top and pulled it down, fully exposing her magnificent mounds, her erect nipples revealing the intensity of her excitement. He eagerly lowered his face and buried it in her flesh, licking the nipples and kissing the breasts all over.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. It was already more erotic than I had imagined it would be. My gorgeous wife, in the arms of another man, full of lust and undoubtedly on her way to a round of passionate sex—my fantasy was becoming a reality! Watching it all, my dick was rock-hard in my pants. I couldn't wait to see what would happen next.

Although I was only about ten feet away, Julie seemed to have forgotten I was in the room. As Stan kissed her breasts and her neck, running his hands all over body, I could see her getting more and more turned on, letting out little cries and moans. After removing her bikini top, Stan lifted off his own T-shirt. Julie was now clasping his muscular arms and caressing his powerful chest, obviously admiring and enjoying a physique that was much more manly than her husband's. I could see that she was in awe, her eyes pasted on the cut lines of his muscles. She kissed his pecs, ran her tongue ravenously all over his chest, then moved her mouth over to one of his impressive biceps, holding it with two hands and caressing it as she kissed it.

The room was burning with passion, but what was really amazing was how cool Stan was handling the situation. Both of them were on fire, but as I watched I could see how fully in control he was. He played her body like a fine instrument, seeming to know exactly what to do to bring her along. Julie, meanwhile, was losing control of herself. Topless, totally turned on, but still in her shorts, she clearly wanted to fuck, needed to fuck. Her hands moved down to Stan's groin, and with an open hand she rubbed his package through his shorts. I could see the large bulge, and I was sure that Julie was feeling something more impressive than what she was familiar with.

Having touched Stan's treasure, she immediately reached up and unfastened his shorts, and when she did this he stopped kissing her, allowing her to focus attention on where she was going. She dropped to her knees, opened up Stan's shorts, and reached in eagerly with one hand while pulling the shorts down further with the other. As the shorts came down, I could see that Julie's hand was grasping an incredibly impressive piece of manhood.

The look on her face told it all—I've seen Julie smile many times over the years, but never as brightly and sincerely as she did when she pulled Stan's hefty meat out of his shorts. It was a thing of beauty, several inches longer than my five-incher, with a much wider girth, and simply perfect in appearance—hard as steel, full of confidence, and ready for action. Julie doesn't have small hands for a woman, but they looked tiny as they grasped Stan's big, powerful dick.

Entranced by the manhood in front of her, Julie stared at it and studied it, all the time seeming astonished that such a beautiful instrument had emerged before her eyes. She initially just held it without stroking it, her slender fingers unable to fully encircle it. With her hand in the middle of the shaft, several inches of hard dick protruded in both directions. She finally gave it few firm strokes, gliding her hand up and down rhythmically, admiring the feel and no doubt imagining the enjoyment it would be bringing.

Eventually, with the tip of Stan's raging dick just inches from her face, Julie intuitively opened her mouth wide and consumed the head, placing it inside her mouth and gently lubricating the hard meat. Stan had been staring down at her, but when she did this his head tilted back, his eyes closed, and he let out a pleasant groan. The feeling of her wet lips and tongue on the crown of his hard-on must have been fantastic. When he looked back down at her, he saw her staring up into his eyes with his long cock protruding from her mouth. Their true affection for one another at this moment was palpable, their chemistry explosive.

Having made that eye contact, she returned her gaze to his penis and lost herself in it. Although it had taken several years, Julie had become quite skilled at giving head, and I could see that she was giving Stan the best of her repertoire. She puckered her lips and kissed his shaft all over. He seemed to especially enjoy when she placed her mouth on the base, stroking the crown of his dick with her hand as she did so. She would then lick the shaft all the way up, from base to tip, using the full swath of her tongue, repeating the gesture over and over from different sides. In the midst of all of this, she frequently did him the favor of simply swallowing his meat, allowing as much of him to slide down her throat as possible, moving her head up and down at different rhythms, sometimes slow and sometimes fast, always with the delightful friction of her wet lips and tongue.

Whenever she pulled off completely, Stan's glistening wet hard-on stood proudly, always ready for more action. Julie would grab it and stroke it nicely, then inevitably return her mouth to it, unable to stay away. Stan was in heaven, as was Julie. And frankly, so was I. My dick was hard when they were merely kissing, so by the time she started sucking his dick I was aching. Being so engrossed in one another, they didn't even seem to notice me. Even as I made myself comfortable on a chair, just a few feet from them, they didn't even acknowledge my presence. I sat there watching my wife expertly give another man head, with him grasping her long hair in his hand, her face buried under him licking his balls, his hard and wet cock resting atop of her forehead. I simply couldn't stand it anymore, so I unbuttoned my shorts and took out my erect penis.