The Wife Part Eleven - Sex Stories

The Wife Part Eleven

... realized that initially, it was mercy sex, but it felt wonderful. Then, our threesomes were just what I needed because I did not want to cause you problems.

“Her pleasure at playing with a twenty-something stud gave me pleasure. It showed that she wanted to explore her sexuality separately from us, from you, and that she had a genuine sexual awakening. I felt privileged to get to share her at all, and her attention when I was recuperating was a bonus.

“Now I seem to be stuck in the middle of a conflict where I can’t choose sides. My fondest wish is for you two to be back together and to include me in your menage.” Tom seemed a bit intimidated after his confession, but of course, John knew of his affection for Blanche.

“So, you think I’m being unreasonable splitting up with her over her affair with Jim?”

“I think you two are meant for each other, and if she has an occasional dalliance but returns to you with love, you are still a lucky stiff. She’s a keeper, plain and simple; maybe not a saint, but a keeper.” John thanked Tom for his candor and went to his room to think. He lay in bed musing.

She had been well aware of his fascination with cuckold porn before Tom started hitting on her, and she owned up to their shenanigans openly and asked him to join.

Except for that last time with Jim, the so-called breakup sex, she had not tried to hide her actions. ...

... Even then, he believed that she would have told him eventually. The fact of their son catching her in-flagrante must have put the fear of God in her. Was it true she had been celibate since then?

But, if we are to get back together, what are the ground rules? Can I tolerate her fucking Jim? Or someone else? Is Tom to be part of our lives in the way that he would like? Would she be content with just me, or us?

Surely, she knows that Tom loves her. Does she love him in that same way? I know I love sharing her, but can I tamp down the jealousy part of my perversion and give her room to be herself?

His mind would not turn itself off, allowing him to sleep. One thing was certain: he wanted her back. Finally, in the wee hours, he texted her, “Alright, what do you want?” To his surprise, a response came in minutes.

“I want you to come home now. I’ll put the coffee pot on.” He wasted no time getting dressed and quietly leaving for home. He arrived, met by Blanche in a nightgown holding two hot cups of coffee. After a long, warm embrace and kiss, they sat together on the TV room sofa, drinking without talking.

When her coffee was gone, she laid her head in his lap and put her arm around his waist. Before long, she was snoring, just like the old days. He reached the comforter from the sofa back and covered her, then laid his head back and dozed off. He was home for good.