Masquerade Marriage

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Masquerade party at the swing club: will the wife go?
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EdTulsa
EdTulsa
7 Followers

"Nigger." I heard the N-word loudly as I come in the front door of my condo from the gym where I'd been lifting weights after getting my daughter, 14, to bed. It was a Wednesday night and my girl from my first marriage had overnight visitation. We don't use the offensive N-word in my home. But it wasn't my daughter's voice. It was my wife's. As I walked up the carpeted stairs to make sure my daughter was soundly asleep, I heard my wife of seven years describe what she likes in a man. A flat belly. I looked at my own. Not bad for a man of 47. I weigh 190 lbs, but at 6'4" it isn't excessive. I run 10k races for fun. Belly fat would just slow me down.

My wife's boyfriend Ray is much heavier, at 250 lbs, but all muscle on his 6'5" frame. They had been dating for a few weeks. I work in the oil field services industry. I am based in Oklahoma but travel a lot. For the past six weeks I'd been in North Dakota. My wife has a "hall pass" to play when I'm away. She doesn't have kids and so the condo is all hers when I'm on the road. My lovely wife, Caroline, is 5'1" and 140 lbs. Her own belly, ironically, extends past her C-cup breasts when her bra is off. She doesn't run: she has a horse for that (a favorite joke). A soft, sweet woman of 45 with salt-and-pepper hair past her shoulders. Nice tan. Great smile. I love her looks.

Caroline "passes gas" for a living. That is, she is a nurse anesthetist at Northcrest, the big hospital in North Tulsa. Many of her patients are in emergency surgery for gunshot wounds. North Tulsa is home to competing drug gangs. She admires their fine young bodies and genuinely cries over the damage done to them by bullets. She met Ray as I was packing for North Dakota a couple months back. His friend had been shot by the police several times. It took amazing skill by the whole team to keep him alive. Ray stayed by his side, saying he was the "brother" and only family. Caroline suspected he was also there to protect the interests of the rest of the gang, but no matter. He was quite nice for a "gang banger." Soft spoken, polite and a fan of movies. He watched movies in the waiting room and had seen them all before. He knew the names of the actors and their careers. Ray taught Caroline about film, and they grew close during long nights in the step-down unit.

One night, Ray asked Caroline why she looked glum. She answered that her husband was about to leave for several weeks. Ray smiled and asked what he could do to help. Caroline smiled back and said, well, she had a "hall pass." Ray knew that movie and precisely what that phrase meant.

Ray was black, and so I knew just who my wife was calling by the N-word. After ensuring my daughter was asleep (or faking it well, a trick her mother must have taught her), I went into the master bedroom where my naked wife was on the phone with her boyfriend. "Shh! You're yelling!", I said. "Be quiet!"

"I can't," she answered, to me. "His new phone is crappy and I have to yell for him to hear me." Ray gets a new phone every couple of days. Goes with his line of work.

Caroline made her excuses to Ray and hung up, promising to talk to him in the morning. She looked mad that I had interrupted her chat. I said it was OK, she could talk to him, just not so loud as to wake my daughter. My wife's relationship with Ray has not been easy for me, but we both knew I had another long trip to North Dakota and she might as well keep Ray. Eventually his "brother" would be discharged to jail and I figured they would break up then. I just wanted my wife's time for myself while I was in town. Made sense to me, but to Caroline and Ray, I was controlling.

"Asshole," came from her pretty mouth.

"What?" I replied, confused.

"That's what we call you. Asshole."

My face must have shown my hurt, and she quickly said it wasn't just me. They called the police that, too: anyone who kept them apart. Don't take it personal. I guess I still looked hurt. She spread her legs and said, "Don't pout. I'll put out. Put that little dick in here."

What to do? I didn't know what to say, and so did as she demanded. I wasn't really in the mood for sex, and tired from lifting weights for an hour, but did my best to get her off, then faked my own orgasm. We both went to sleep, or at least pretended to.

In the morning, I kept busy getting my daughter ready for school. I wouldn't see her for a week and so gave her all my attention. Caroline seemed sheepish in the morning and didn't say much. She was also in a hurry. Big day at work, lots of surgeries scheduled. They might keep her overnight as they were short-staffed. It would be over-time, and we needed the money. I couldn't argue with that. The previous Thursday, she'd spent the night with Ray. I'd agreed, reluctantly. She promised not to do it again before my next trip. I wasn't sure if she was really going to work tonight or sleep with Ray. I decided to assume she was going to work, and not to check her payroll deposit. I didn't want to be one of those snooping husbands. That's no way to live, is it?

I didn't see my wife until Friday when I got home from the office. I had worked hard for ten hours; I finished a report and attended three meetings. I was busy enough that I didn't think about my daughter or wife all day. The only personal business was fending off flirtation by a co-worker who once worked in North Dakota for a competitor. I tried pumping her for information about the oil field but she kept bringing the conversation back to her and us. I should have been flattered but was too preoccupied to take advantage of the situation.

After dinner (grilled grouper!) at home, Caroline's phone rang. I cleaned the table while she talked to Ray about his brother. Her face was flushed with excitement from hearing his voice, and she talked flirtatiously to him. Did it better than my co-worker had to me. A few minutes into the conversation, she left the room and went into the garage. She stayed there while I finished the dishes. And stewed. Eventually, I opened the door to the garage and said, loudly enough for Ray to hear me (well, if his new phone worked), "You don't have to hide." As with Wednesday night, she concluded the call in a hurry and joined me in the kitchen.

Instead of calling me an "asshole" like she did Wednesday, she was sweet. My lovely wife thanked me for agreeing to spend Saturday with her and her horsey friends at a horse show. She knows I hate horse shows but she volunteers my labor for hauling saddles and the like for her friends who don't have husbands. And I knew she would work hard, too. When we got home, we'd probably read books on the sofa for a couple of hours and then go to bed early, exhausted. I was looking forward to it.

So I was unprepared when she announced, again sweetly, that she and Ray were going to a movie Saturday night. Don't wait up--she'd be home late. You could have knocked me over with a feather. I was stunned. I took a deep breath, and counted to ten. Then ten more. In as calm a voice as I could muster, and I did well, if I say so myself, I said, "Take the cat. You're not coming back."

I turned and left the room.

I don't watch much TV but went to look for the remote. Couldn't find it. It was right there but I didn't see it or anything else.

Caroline came into the living room and said, "Well, we don't have plans and you know you are always tired after horse shows. And you have to get up early for your long run before church Sunday."

I impressed myself with my improvisation. "We're going to the masquerade, remember? At the sex club? We bought the masks for it when we were in New Orleans last year. You are going to get all dressed up. How could you forget?"

This was mischief on my part, as I had not mentioned it to her. I had wanted to go, but when I saw that it was on a horse show day, I knew she would say she was too tired to go out. But hell, if she had the energy to go out with Ray, she had the energy to go out with me! Let them go see a movie when I was gone next. I wanted her. And if she didn't want me, well, Ray could have her. And her cat. I meant it.

She could see it in my eyes. But apparently she had promised Ray. So, the compromise: she and Ray would go to a movie, but just one, and Ray would drop her off at the sex club after to meet up with me. No, better: she and Ray would join me. A threesome! Hadn't I often suggested a threesome as a way for me to be a part of her "play"?

I took a deep breath. I try to be a good husband. I really do. But I knew full well that if I agreed, Ray would never bring her to the sex club and I'd be there alone, waiting for them for hours. Single men are losers at those clubs and don't get any love--just contempt. Pity if they are lucky.

So I said, "no."

We were going to the masquerade, and Ray could join us. As if to demonstrate that my wife has bigger balls than her stallion, she asked if I would pay for Ray to get into the sex club, as they charge more for single men. He was short of money lately as he couldn't "work" while spending every day at the hospital. I tried to think of the most colorful expletive I knew, but none were strong enough for how I felt.

Instead I said, quietly, "Well, I'm short of money, too. Travel reimbursement check hasn't come in yet. Ray will have to come up with the money himself to meet us."

But really, I was asking myself, how did I end up in this mess? It was all so humiliating that I knew I couldn't confide to my friends, priest or therapist.

I guess some part of my wife wanted to stay married so she said, "fine."

I am pretty sure I also heard "asshole" under her breath but pretended I didn't.

She was "tired" and went to bed early. I didn't hear talking and so figure she either went straight to sleep or was texting Ray. I ignored her. As for me, I stayed up late to watch TV, having found the remote. I have no idea what was on. I got to bed after midnight. Wife was asleep or pretending to be.

The alarms went off at 5 am. We got up, not talking much. I made coffee. We dressed. I drove. The horse show was an hour away. Her friends were showing a Morgan in both English and Western classes so there was a lot of tack for me to haul. It felt good to be outdoors and with animals. I worked hard and generally had a good time. Not that I would admit that.

As expected, she was tired when we got home. I suggested she take a nap as we were going out. She sighed and said she had hoped I'd forgotten. Nope. I was adamant. She lay down and tried to sleep. I woke her up as the sun was going down. She seemed, or acted, very tired. Texted Ray, asked him to meet us. He texted back that he wasn't interested in any sex club, only in her. My wife was definitely no fan of me at this point.

Caroline showered, but explained she didn't trim her pubic hair as no one was getting close to that. OK, I figured, better plan to hook up with another woman at the sex club if I wanted to get laid. I was getting cut off by my wife as punishment for being a controlling husband. I took a deep breath and promised myself I would try really hard to be a good husband. Just not sure how to do that.

Caroline dressed nicely, looked hot. Tight jeans, black tank top with gold sequins. Cut low enough to show her cleavage. Everyone who saw her would want her. I know I did. I guess that was the point.

As I went to get the keys to my truck, she announced that she was also driving, taking her Audi. She planned to get me there, introduce me to some women, and then go meet Ray for dancing after his movie. She'd see me in the morning. OK, I told myself, I was a bad husband. I was clearly being unreasonable. Right? How to improve. Fast.

I took a deep breath and said that if she wasn't having fun, I would drive her home. To our home. With me. Compromise, or controlling? She made me promise. Twice. Then she put her keys away. Got in the truck. Stewing in her silence. Mad at me. I knew I had made her mad, but in my mind, I was being reasonable. Husbandry is hard, I told myself. Must try harder.

We arrived, parked and went in. We had not been to this sex club before. Hostess Wanda was a pretty blond lady in her 30s, quite large. What you call a Big Beautiful Woman (BBW). I paid with cash, and she offered us a tour. The club was in space at a motel along the turnpike, the type of motel that caters to truck drivers. The room was probably originally intended as the "ballroom." In the center was a dance floor. Three more BBW were dancing to a rock song played by the DJ, Carl, a tall, slim black man. Seeing him made Caroline a little more inclined to stay! Surrounding the dance floor were sofas where a few couples were kissing. Around the walls of the club room were folding tables and basic conference-style chairs. About half were occupied already. On first glance, most of the guests were either overweight or obese. And quiet, seeming nervous to be there. Wanda took us first to the buffet table. It all looked fine, but after seeing the corpulent guests all about the food table we were not hungry. The tour ended with the "naughty room." Four king-sized mattresses with clean white sheets were on the floor, one in each corner. No one was in there, but it made the point that this was an "on premises" sex club.

My wife's mood made it clear she wasn't putting out, at least not for me. The women I saw weren't appealing to me. So, the "naughty room" was obviously going to do no more than appeal to the voyeur in me. If I even got to stay that long.

I opened the bottle of wine I brought for Caroline and poured her a glass. Or, rather a red solo cup. Yes, it was that kind of place. I made a Diet Coke for myself. I don't drink. Or do much of anything else fun, I suspect my wife had long ago concluded.

A couple glasses of wine relaxed Caroline. I said I was enjoying the people watching. We had fun together making fun of the people dancing. She asked if I saw any women I was interested in. Checked the time (and for new texts) on her cell. I said no. She asked, exasperated, why we were there. I said that I wanted us to do things together, including sexual play. I didn't think her playing with others when I was gone did much for me, or our marriage, even if it made my frequent travel more bearable for her. How about us playing with couples, together, when I was home? This was actually kind of a long, dry speech. She replied that sex was so personal that even if we "played" with a couple, together, it would be the same as if we were separate. I guess I responded poorly and said, snappishly, "So, you want to separate?"

That was uncalled for, and I apologized. She did her part and said we should look for couples.

Her eyes must be better than mine, as she soon spied a couple sitting alone and pointed them out to me. Wow! The woman was hot. Asian-American, tan, low cut dress, D-cup boobs. Undoubtedly fake, but well done. Pretty face. Her man was plain, but so what: the woman was hot. Caroline gamely introduced herself to the woman, Sara. If her boyfriend had a name, I didn't pay attention. I talked to him a bit while Caroline chatted with Sara. The boyfriend said they were a new couple and Sara had exhibitionist fantasies. I told him that Caroline and I had only been to a sex club once before. We had had fun as my wife flirted with other men, then they all watched as I fucked her in a crowded room. He smiled at the image (checking out my wife!) and said he thought he could do that. I wondered if he meant my wife, or Sara, in the "naughty room."

Caroline clearly wanted to get me away from the boyfriend and closer to Sara, so she got up and found another man to chat with. This guy was tall, about my height. A little heavier but not fat. Older, maybe 50 or a little over. Wore cowboy boots, jeans, plaid shirt with snaps. Ball cap. Caroline called him, "Cowboy" and proceeded to flirt with him. Then she kissed him.

Announced, loudly, "He says I kiss well. You ought to find out if Sara kisses as well as I do." I looked to Sara and asked if I could kiss her. She looked excited, but nervous about her boyfriend. I kissed her. It was nice, but I'll admit not as nice as kissing my wife.

We made out for several more minutes as my wife called the plays: "More tongue! I don't see tongue!" It was all fun, but the boyfriend was getting upset so I thanked Sara and stepped away. I suspect Sara has done this before; the boyfriend had told me he never had.

At this point, I noticed that "Cowboy" had stepped away while my wife was texting. I walked over and stood behind her, looking over her shoulder as I held her shoulders. It was Ray. She said that he was not coming to the sex club. She asked him if he could suggest any places to go dancing. I was reading these over her shoulder. I got anxious that she was going to ask me to drop her off at a North Tulsa club.

Trying to be the good husband, I said, "I'll dance with you!"

Bad idea. Wife informed me that she would never dance with me as I had no rhythm. Ray was a fabulous dancer, so why dance with anyone else? I was hurt, but it was the truth. I ask my wife to be honest, and she was doing as I requested.

I left her and went to talk to Cowboy. I told him that he was free to flirt with my wife. I said my plan was to do the same as the other time we went to a sex club, have her flirt with strange men and then I'd fuck her in front of a crowd. I had given up on finding any other woman I was interested in. Sara was hot, but her boyfriend was nervously guarding her. Cowboy said thanks and that he would flirt with my wife while I watched. He smiled. He had a nice rural Oklahoma drawl. We looked for her. She was dancing. The black DJ Carl was playing hip-hop songs and she was grooving to it. She looked great--definitely the sexiest woman on the dance floor. I was proud, and turned on. That hot wife was my hot wife! I admit the contradiction. I sometimes fell into fits of jealousy over Ray, yet was also turned on that my wife was so sexy that other men wanted her.

As I was thinking this, Cowboy summoned his courage and joined her on the dance floor. He couldn't dance any better than I, but my wife had fun moving her hips while he ran his hands over her ass. This didn't make me feel jealous at all. In fact, it was turning me on to watch them dance.

When they took a break, Caroline was breathing hard. Said she was thirsty. Her wine was gone. Cowboy offered to make her a "Crown and Coke."

She looked at me, and I said OK. He took off. I asked my wife is she wanted to leave now. She was hurt by Ray not agreeing to come meet her there at the sex club, so she told me she would stay and dance with Cowboy a little longer. I smiled and said fine by me. I had high hopes of getting her turned on by dancing with strange men and then having my way with her in the naughty room later.

She could tell what I was thinking and said, "But if Ray comes here to get me, I'm going home with him."

In my newly good mood I was not prepared for that remark and so very angrily said that if she did leave with him, not to come home, ever. That made her mad. Cowboy arrived just then and handed her the cocktail in the red solo cup. She took a big gulp of her whiskey, grabbed cowboy's hand and pulled him back onto the dance floor. I was stuck holding her drink.

I held it and watched them dance. After a few songs they came back for a breather and more booze. By this time, I couldn't see Sara. I had given up on all other women, but was really having fun watching my wife flirt with Cowboy. My wife would kiss cowboy, me, cowboy, me etc. Caroline is the best kisser. She really gets into kissing and uses her tongue confidently to dance with her partners' tongue, in and out and back and forth.

After several minutes of this fun, she noticed three fat women dancing together, making a dance-floor sandwich. Her eyes sparkled with an idea. She wanted to be the meat of a dance sandwich! Her vow to never dance with me was instantly forgotten and she took both of our hands and led us onto the floor. The DJ liked what he saw and played the disco classic, "Brick House" as my wife danced between us, rubbing her ass against our crotches in turn. I lifted her top off as she unclasped her bra and handed it to me. Her titties bounced free and the whole room watched. Cowboy and I rubbed her tits and pulled her nipples. We were both getting hard and ground our dicks, under our jeans, against her denim-covered ass and thighs.

EdTulsa
EdTulsa
7 Followers
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