From swinging to hotwifing, a true story

[Frenchie]

Hello everyone

As promised to those who enjoyed "The Landlord", here is the story of my experience shared with my wife in the unknown world of libertinage (swinging) and candaulism (hotwifing).


So, unlike my first story, this one is 100% authentic. Only time could have made me forget a few insignificant details.


As you can imagine, it wasn't just the experience that was shared...


I hope you'll enjoy it as much as we did...

[Frenchie]

At the dawn of forty, it's usual to realize that time is passing too quickly, and to ask oneself questions like: “Have I missed out on something in life? Am I still capable of pleasing and seducing?

Even if you have a successful life, a happy marriage and wonderful children.

Yes, even if we're the model couple, we end up asking ourselves these kinds of questions, I promise you. Maybe not exactly in this form, but it all boils down to the same thing.


To answer them, some men cheat on their wives, preferably with some brainless young thing who hasn't got a bit of cellulite and wears navel-skin T-shirts all day long.
And some wives cheat on their husbands, preferably with the male counterpart of the aforementioned Barbie : The gym or swim teacher with the muscles of a German tank, six pack tucked neatly onto his belly and who doesn't wonder every morning whether he'll have any hair left to comb the next day.
Anyway, let's move on. You get the cliché.


After 15 years together, which some would describe as vanilla, or boring, with a career to lead, a house to furnish and children to raise, my little wife and I also felt this “need”. But we chose another option: “What if we lived it together? What if we shared this in all transparency?”

Well, of course, it didn't just come out of the blue, it was sometimes even stormy, and the fruit of a long process of joint and individual reflection, the details of which we won't go into here.
Suffice it to say that Raphaëlle was my first and only sexual conquest at the time, and that for her part, she had biblically only known one guy before me, a few months before meeting me and on only two or three occasions, none of them very satisfying.

So I was far from a lady-killer and she wasn't a flirt either, although she didn't need that to elicit a few suggestive compliments from here and there, at a chance meeting or from very... “thoughtful” colleagues.

It has to be said that she's quite cute, my darling, in her 5.3 ft, with her long reddish-blond hair, her blue-green eyes and her mischievous smile that give her an irresistible charm (and I'm not talking about her gorgeous breasts and her magnificent buttocks... well, not yet!).

*****

The fact is, one April evening, we found ourselves standing in front of the door of a large Parisian libertine club, with a lump in our stomachs and sweaty palms.

Yes, not very proud, the lovebirds.

In other words, we had no experience of the subject.
All we knew was that we were curious, eager to add a little spice to our lives and then see what happens. As the old saying goes, “Wait and see!”
We were even almost certain that we'd do nothing but discover the place.
But even this simple act of “going wild” was already warming up our senses!

We had done a bit of research on the Internet and on the practices used in these places of “debauchery”, particularly on the dress code.
My darling had opted for a sexy little black dress, but we hoped it wouldn't be too vulgar either.

The rest of the evening would reveal that she was dressed quite conservatively, even monastically, compared to some of the “specimens” bobbing up and down on the dance floor.

Afraid even of being turned away at the entrance (I've heard it happens), we were already surprised to be invited in without any hesitation or feeling of being subjected to the doorman's sententious appraising scan.


We were among the first to arrive in what appeared, at first glance, to be a classic nightclub, were it not for the rather suggestive decor.

After hanging around the bar for a few minutes, we quickly decided to familiarize ourselves with the place and, of course, to visit the “special” side of it : What the regulars modestly refer to as the “cuddle nooks” is in fact just one big lupanar with multiple rooms: those that lock but have walls lined with portholes, those whose walls are covered with mirrors, those open to all “winds” and of course, the ultimate: a gigantic red central bed capable of accommodating a good dozen couples (or more if affinities).

On this “early” evening, the place was empty except for a closed room where a glance through the porthole allowed us to see a couple already in action.
It was a strange sensation to see another couple making love live for the first time... nothing like what you might expect from a porn movie... much more realistic, much more disturbing and much more exciting, of course.

As we were finishing this pre-visit, we came across another couple doing the same, with whom we exchanged a few words. A little younger than us (in their early thirties), they were discovering the place as we were.

Back in the “dressed” area, we took a seat on some armchairs in a secluded corner to get some perspective, while the club was filling up nicely.

The couple we'd met in the background came to sit next to us and we got to know each other a little over a glass of champagne.

They'd come from Saint Etienne and were taking advantage of a weekend in Paris to treat themselves to a naughty getaway. Unlike us, it was their fourth time in a club, but their first in this one.
Her name was Emma, a rather cute little blonde with short hair, and his name was Phill, an obviously well-built dark-haired man, a little shorter than me, with discreet but effective muscles ; you could say ripped.

We made friends and continued the evening, dancing on the dance floor and chatting in our corner.

At one point, without warning, Phill led Emma by the hand to the “dark” side.
Feeling neither invited nor quite ready to take the plunge, Raph’ and I wisely remained seated.

But a few minutes later, we were itching to play voyeur...

***

The cuddle nooks had filled up nicely since our last tour. Most of the locked rooms were occupied, and the big bed was already home to quite a few couples, among whom we spotted Phill busy between the thighs of a disheveled Emma.
A little shy and borrowed, we joined the many couples who were just enjoying the show before Raph', aroused by all this, lured me into a small dark corner to lavish me with a little treat of which she has the secret.
Divine sensation to be sucked off by my sweetheart while watching many (mostly harmonious) bodies indulge in sensual debauchery.
Phill and Emma had disappeared again, never to be seen again.

As my dear and sweet suggested we return to the living rooms for a break, I didn't give her time to react and tipped her over the edge of the big bed, slipped my hands under her dress to pull down her panties and hurried to take my turn at her crotch.

It wasn't 30 seconds into my tongue's probing of my wife's delicate flesh that, seemingly out of nowhere, Emma landed right next to Raph, propelled by Phill who obviously intended to give her a treatment comparable to mine.

But they didn't stay on their side for long... Soon they were closing in on us... and flanking Raphaëlle.

I don't remember who made the first move.
All I can remember is that my wife soon found herself totally naked, caught in the crossfire: me still flattering her pussy, Phill and Emma tenderly kissing her and sharing her breasts, all under the interested gaze of a few voyeuristic opportunists.

It was a surprise for me to see my wife kissing another woman full on the lips. She'd never mentioned any attraction to women in our pre-libertinage discussions.
But that's just the way it was, very smoothly, almost naturally. And she seemed to enjoy it.
It was also a particular thrill to see her kiss a man other than me for the first time. Even though that's what we'd come here for.

So I too decided to place a feverish hand on a stranger skin...

[Frenchie]

Little by little, the game evolved and, once again almost naturally, we swapped roles, Emma taking Raphaëlle's place under my tongue while Phill and my sweetheart embraced right next to us.

It's hard to describe in detail what happened next, as my mind was so caught up in a maelstrom of sensations, images and sounds.
All I remember is that Raph and I exchanged many glances. I could see happiness and excitement in her eyes, but also an often renewed request for assent.
With a smile or a wink, I'd confirm that it was all perfectly fine with me.

Even when I glimpsed her lips closing on a penis other than mine for the first time.

We didn't expect to please so easily. We didn't expect it to happen so quickly. But it seemed so natural, so obvious, that when Phill offered to go for “condoms”, neither Raph' nor I was shocked. It was going to happen right there, right now, in the middle of all those embracing bodies.


After fetching the necessary protective equipment, Phill took Raphaëlle to the middle of the big bed, away from us.

Despite the ambient noise, I could distinctly hear Raph's sigh of contentment as he entered her for the first time.

It had to be said that the fellow was rather blessed by nature. I'd caught a glimpse of him in the relative semi-darkness, and that would be confirmed later... Oh, nothing monstrous or out of the ordinary, but certainly longer and wider than me, although I don't have any particular complex about that.

Their embrace lasted a long time.
Indifferent to the couples around them, they made love long and passionately.

Being busy myself, I wasn't able to follow all the details of my wife's first non-couple encounter, but she told me afterwards that she'd lived the moment as if in a magical bubble, barely disturbed by the slightly protruding heels of her neighbors and the successive cracking of two condoms (when I tell you the guy was well hung!).

For my part, I experienced the whole thing in a contradictory way: while I was certainly terribly turned on by the surrounding debauchery of sex, while I felt happy to see Raph' getting off like that, all this discovery, all these new feelings were a bit too much for me.

Even if licking a woman other than my own while blindly caressing other skins and bodies with my free hands was beyond anything I could have imagined in my wildest dreams, there was a kind of disconnect between my brain and my body: I couldn't transmit my mental excitement to the more central part of my anatomy. In short, I had a weak hard-on, if any at all.

A confusing and contradictory sensation.

I've heard that it often happens to novices in this kind of situation... Hardly something to console me.

In any case, my partner didn't seem to be necessarily dissatisfied with my performance, since I was following to the letter the motto of the bovid chasing the rebellious fly: “What you can't do with your cue, do with your tongue!”

[wulfenus]

Enticing tale!

[Frenchie]

Eventually, our spouses gave in, and I in turn suspended the intensive treatment I'd been giving Emma's little pussy for some time.

The four of us got dressed and went back for some welcome refreshment.

It was indeed hot as hell in there, and I finally understood why there were several showers at the exit of the cuddling areas.

***

We chatted a little longer, paradoxically intimidated by the sudden intimacy between the four of us.

We danced too.

Then it was decided to revisit the cuddle nooks and find, if possible, a private room...

On our return to the brothel, the four of us were able to take over a small bedroom, leaving the door open so that a few couples could sneak a peek while we started round two again, like the first round, except that this time we were naked from the start, and it was the ladies who, on all fours, looked after the virility of their respective partners lying side by side on the bed.

An older, more enterprising couple even slipped in at our feet, and the man wasted no time in flattering the two magnificent rumps on display. But when he tried to digitally intromission my wife's piggy bank without even asking her permission, she showed him with a sudden dodge and a killer look that just because we were in a libertine club didn't mean she was ready to accept anything from anyone.
Somehow, that was reassuring.

Emma was less shy...
She soon had this barely glimpsed stranger's sex deep inside her as she continued to suck her husband.

After a quickie, the man thanked Emma (after all!) and left us to join his partner (who had sucked another in the meantime).

The girls took the opportunity to swap roles, but as my dick had definitely decided to go on strike at the worst possible time, Emma ended up forfeiting her job and using a desire to freshen up as an excuse to quit, leaving the three of us alone.

Raph' soon found herself on all four between Phill and me, my soft sex in her mouth but impaled by the chuck of our accomplice, who himself knew no failures and muttered “What an ass! What an ass!” as he slowly sank deep inside her, making her hum with pleasure.

It was undoubtedly the most accomplished moment of this memorable evening, a moment that only came to an end when Phill poured himself for the second time into Raphaëlle's belly, well, into the condom which, this time, had resisted.

In the meantime, my wife had come several times. You didn't have to ask her to find out. Her cries, moans and eyes spoke for her.

For a first, it was a beautiful first!

***

We left the club together, late into the night, not without exchanging e-mail addresses.
Our homes were several hundred miles apart, but you never know...

***

In the car on the way home, my wife and I chatted at length.
Still a little overwhelmed by the evening's surge of emotions and sensations, she seemed perfectly satisfied with her experience. She'd loved discovering Emma's gentleness. She'd loved feeling like a fragile doll in Phill's strong arms.

I was happy too.
I would have preferred to have been able to be sexually on top, but beyond that, I felt a pleasure that was ultimately more altruistic: I was happy to have been able to offer all this to my wife.

Unlike many people, I had never before fantasized about seeing my wife make love with another man. I'd never even thought about it until we started thinking about going the libertine route. Then again, I'd wondered how I'd react to it when the time came.
So I was all the more amazed at the pleasure I'd derived that evening from seeing Raphaëlle cum in the arms of her one-night lover.

Without yet knowing the definition, I was already finding myself inclined towards candaulism.


Once we got home, and despite the indecent hour, we made love with a rare intensity.
My dickie, who'd been on strike all evening, had suddenly regained adolescent vigor.

Bloody machinery!

****

We finally heard from Emma and Phill much sooner than expected...

[Johng1953]

I'm already hooked. Having enjoyed your work of fiction before I was eagerly awaiting your personal story.

[Frenchie]

It might be a little less enticing and probably less extreme than the fiction, but thanks a lot for your interest.

[Frenchie]

The very next day, while Raph' was comatose in the sun, I read an e-mail from Phill:

“We hope you got home safely, we slept like blissful souls... Thank you for a wonderful evening.

But there's a little problem... I still want Raph'!"

Obviously, this message was rather flattering, especially for my wife.

To have met on our first date a couple matching our expectations was already unhoped-for, but to arouse such infatuation on the part of a younger, rather well-built man, that was something to dream about. She may have underestimated herself, but Raphaëlle would never have thought that her charm could work so fully and so quickly.

Especially as this message was only the first in a long conversation, first by e-mail and then more directly.

After two days, the number of text messages exchanged between Phill and Raph' could no longer be counted.
On the third, Raphaëlle told me when I got home from work that they'd spent a good part of the afternoon giving each other pleasure over the phone.

But the phone was no longer enough. The picture was missing... So MSN came to the rescue...

The conclusion was quickly reached: we had to meet again!
So we made a date for the following month.
They invited us to join them at their place for an extended weekend.

Of course, the exchanges between Phill and Raph didn't subside.
On the contrary! They redoubled their messages and promised to fulfill certain desires that had not been expressed during our brief meeting:
Phill dreamed of properly honoring my wife's mouth, and she couldn't wait to taste and “drink” him.
He also wanted to be able to take her ass, something my wife appreciated but we rarely practiced.
Last but not least, they hoped to be able to reserve some private time for themselves, which meant that the weekend might be as much about 2+2 as it was about square.

In any case, they were looking forward to a “caliente” reunion, and in the meantime, they continued to warm up to each other via messaging, with my darling testing out stripping in front of her webcam for the first time.

***

The four-way relationship we formed with this couple was clearly unbalanced. The torrid exchanges between Raphaëlle and Phill had no equivalent between Emma and me.
Firstly, because neither she nor I were adept at chatting via SMS or MSN, but also and above all because it was quite obvious that we hadn't felt the same attraction as that which had arisen between my wife and her husband.
However, I was counting on this coming weekend to make up for lost time...

For my part, although I wondered about the little game of seduction that Raph' and her “lover” were indulging in with undisguised greed, I wasn't overly worried either:
My wife knew how to reassure me about her feelings, and the absolute transparency she insisted on in her relationship with Phill also contributed greatly.
I had access to every message she sent or received, I could read the history of their discussions via MSN, only their direct conversations escaped my vigilance. But what did they have to hide? I already agreed on almost everything! And on the rare occasions when I felt that the words used might go beyond what I was prepared to accept, I told my sweetheart, who immediately rectified the situation.

So there we were, basking in a kind of sweet euphoria for a few weeks... until the day Emma announced to Raphaëlle that she was no longer interested in the upcoming weekend.


Naturally, stunned by this complete turnaround, we looked for explanations. Especially me, who took it as a personal affront: after all, given my poor performance in the club, she probably didn't feel like trying the experiment again, or being alone with me while our respective spouses spent the weekend getting laid.

But she assured us it wasn't like that: She'd taken stock of her libertine experiences and concluded that, in the end, what interested her the most was girl-on-girl action, but that when it came to guys, she'd had enough.
She didn't forbid Phill to continue libertinizing on his own, but for the time being, she would limit herself to women.

Who could blame her?
True, few men could probably compete with hers.

We were only moderately satisfied with her explanation, but as there was obviously no question of forcing anyone to do something they no longer wanted to do, we had to abide by her decision.
The problem was that her decision meant that the weekend would be ruined, because even if she didn't forbid her husband to continue his libertine adventures, we couldn't see ourselves continuing our plan without her.

However, as Phill and Raphaëlle were really keen for the weekend to go ahead anyway, it was first suggested that my wife join them on her own (since Emma could see herself doing a FFM trio with Raph'), which we refused.
Firstly because I couldn't see my wife making a 500 miles round trip alone, in a weekend, and secondly because we couldn't accept that I should be the one “excluded” from the adventure when the defection came from Emma.

In the end, it was agreed that Phill would make the long trip, but only for 24 hours, as he was expected back afterwards... What an addict he was!


So our foursome became a threesome. A little against our will, of course, but it would allow me to discover the “pleasures” of candaulism for good.

[Frenchie]

I was quite nervous on that May day. Maybe not as much as my sweetheart, who was looking forward to this reunion, but not far off.

It was agreed that Phill would arrive around 5 pm.

In the meantime, I was to take the children to their grandparents.

I knew there was a risk that our visitor would arrive before I did.

I had a strange and contradictory feeling about this eventuality: while on the one hand I didn't want to miss any moment of the meeting between the two lovers, on the other, I felt a paradoxical excitement at leaving them alone without me.
Knowing the temperament of these two, I knew they'd find it hard to hold back for long.
Although this assumption made me feel a painful lump in the pit of my stomach, I almost hoped to catch them in action when I returned, as in the most stereotypical Vaudeville scenario.

But it was not to be...

On the way home, I received a message on my mobile: “He's arrived, we're waiting for you”.
The lump in my stomach burst.

But when I arrived at the marital home, Raphaëlle and Phill were chatting quietly in the garden, a glass of lemonade in hand.

No doubt they'd had plenty of time to exchange long reunion kisses, but for the rest, they'd managed to behave themselves...

or almost...

Almost, because while waiting for me, Raphaëlle had offered to show our guest around the house.

I would later learn that, in the bedroom, they had kissed for a long time and that he had then insisted on taking off her panties.
No doubt there followed a more or less intense game of fingers or even tongues, but they left it at that, since it had been agreed that the three of us would play.

So there my darling was, commando under her short black dress, between her two males ready to “fire”... The erotic tension was palpable.

Yet nothing more happened until well into the evening.

In fact, as a self-respecting hostess, my wife had prepared a delicious little meal for us, a secret of hers, and we made a point of honoring it.
So, right up until the end of the meal and a little afterwards, we were content to enjoy the good food, while waiting to taste some flesh that promised to be pretty damn tasty too!

An outside eye unaware of the peculiarities of our relationship could hardly have observed anything other than a good meal between friends.
I say “hardly” because, of course, that outside eye wouldn't have been able to avoid noticing that the only woman in the trio was snogging one man as well as the other.

And yes, no matter how patient they were, my touchy-feely wife couldn't help but dispense her favors to both me and our guest, especially when it came to preparing the meal, with three of us rubbing shoulders in the small kitchen.

And again! I could feel that my presence was holding them back a little.
Even if I was totally consenting, they were probably a little embarrassed to be eating their tongues in front of me.
Still. Whenever I had to go away for a few moments for one reason or another, I found them embracing each other when I returned.

It was going to be a long evening!

****

The evening got off to a gentle start.

After enjoying the meal concocted by our little cordon bleu of the day, even if the excitement was spoiling our appetites a little, the three of us headed for the big corner sofa to continue chatting “among friends”.
Raphaëlle settled in the middle, right between Phill and me...

She was the one who got us started.
Just as she had resumed sharing our mouths in long, languorous kisses, she set about undressing us more or less simultaneously... making a point of remaining the last clothed... for the moment!

Of course, she didn't stay that way for long.
Two against one, she didn't stand a chance!
Bare first, her lovely breasts were the object of special attention from four hands and two eager mouths, before more adventurous fingers slipped over her impeccably groomed pubic hair and lost themselves in the already moist folds.

From here on in, it's once again difficult for me to give a very detailed account of what happened next.
Once again, the onslaught of images, sensations and emotions has made memories somewhat “muddled”.
But there's no need for a detailed report to understand that we had plenty of time to explore all the possible combinations offered by a trio made up of a pretty woman and two strictly heterosexual men.
Most of the time, my wife was content to be the filling in this fabulous sandwich of which Phill and I were the bread slices: one sucking while the other was busy with her charms, then pivoting to swap roles...

Although it wasn't exactly new, since we'd had the opportunity to try it out in the club where we met, this trio had a special flavor for me.

Firstly, because there were only three of us, without the disconcerting environment, without the stares of voyeurs, without any woman to look after other than my little darling. The main effect of this was to restore to my manhood all its once scorned honor.

Secondly, because the lighting, though subdued, was nevertheless less diffused than in the club, I was able to observe without restraint my wife caressing and being caressed by our guest, jerking off and sucking that phallus with its definitely advantageous measurements or pumping me while she received, at the same time, a most virile assault.

Last but not least, there was an important change compared to last time: having successfully undergone the necessary tests, we had decided to dispense with the unavoidable and off-putting condoms.
And here, I have to admit, seeing a foreign cock introduce itself without any latex barrier into the intimacy of my wife lends this act, already heavy in itself, a rather incredible dimension and an unparalleled symbolism.

Phill thus became Raphaëlle's true and undisputed lover.


We played for a long time, and Raph' had several opportunities to express her pleasure without restraint.
But there comes a time when every horny male has to let the horse out of the barn.

So I was the first to cum deep in my darling's secret little cave as she screamed out her pleasure... with her mouth full.

Obviously, this “deposit” was only the first of many...

Even if “when you love, you don't count”, by the time Phill left, some fifteen hours later, my wife could boast of having provoked 7 to 8 equivalent “emissions” from her two partners.

We may not want to get hung up on records, but all in all, it would be a great result!

[Frenchie]

After this first “round”, I slowly came to my senses, while Phill continued to gently caress my darling, still sporting an impressive erection that showed no sign of abating.

Pretexting a slight chill after these initial “efforts”, Raphaëlle suggested continuing the “debates” in the bedroom.

I let them go upstairs first while I extinguished the lights and blew out all the flames my “miss candles” had placed around the house.

When I went upstairs, two minutes after them, I quickly realized that, this time, they hadn't intended to wait for me...
Without bothering to open the sheets, Phill had tipped his partner onto the bed and, as I entered, I found him already planted deep inside her.

On the comforter cover, between my wife's raised and spread legs, I noticed an oblong halo, a stain I'd only identify later: expelled by the virile and complete intromission of Phill's sex into my wife's vagina, my few centilitres of pleasure deposited a few minutes earlier had landed there.

Even if it remained in the realm of symbolism, the image spoke for itself: Clearly, there wasn't room for two.

I stood at the bedroom door for a few minutes, watching them make love, curious to discover Phill's “technique”:
With his flattering body measurements and flawless hard-on, he had a rather peculiar method: He had adopted an extremely slow rhythm, entering very gradually, then exiting just as slowly before gently reentering the premises.
When he seemed to have fully entered, he would give another little jerk that surprised his partner.
To say Raphaëlle enjoyed this treatment would be an understatement...
She sighed with contentment at each intromission and let out a moan or a little cry each time he went deep inside her.

I felt no jealousy at seeing them love each other like that. I was just happy to be able to offer my wife such happiness.

However, after a while, I felt I was too much.

I think that if I had joined them again to reconstitute the threesome, they obviously wouldn't have rejected me, but I felt that my presence was bothering them a little and I remembered that they had planned to reserve some time for themselves.

I felt that this moment was theirs and not mine.

So after a final kiss to Raphaëlle to make sure all was well, I stepped aside and left them alone to finish loving each other as a duo.

And finally, it's at times like these that a certain jealousy returns, in the form of that famous lump in the pit of my stomach.

But rather than jealousy, I'd say it's the expression of a masochistic and completely altruistic pleasure.

Unlike the threesome, letting my companion have fun with her lover without my presence was something more troubling, more disturbing. Because when you're present at the lovemaking, even without taking part, you know and see what's going on. You're there, you think you can still intervene, just in case... Whereas when you're not there, you imagine... And when you imagine, you make up fantasies... which often go beyond reality... And above all, you give up all control over the course of events.

So, leaving them alone was a gift to my wife and the ultimate proof of my complete trust in her and her love.
I also realized that to feel emotions as violent and intense as these was simply to be alive... 100% alive.

To wait, I went into the room opposite, into our guest room which doubles as an office, sat down in front of the computer and surfed the Internet, scrolling through the pages of my favorite sites without really looking at them.
I didn't really look at them, because my mind was entirely focused on what was happening across the corridor. I was listening for the slightest sigh, the slightest groan, trying to deduce the “state of progress of the project”.

I was sorely tempted to sneak a peek through the open door, and I must say that I sometimes gave in to the temptation... but each time feeling a certain guilt at “disturbing” them.

So, to ward off the wait, I got moving. I went around the house with one idea in mind: to take advantage of this rare opportunity to answer a question I'd been asking myself more and more often: Can our children, who are growing up in leaps and bounds and therefore less and less innocent, hear the echoes of our lovemaking from their bedrooms or any other room? Can they hear the bed creaking, the groans, the screams?

I visited all the rooms, my ear to the ground, I lay on the beds, silently.

And I was able to conclude that, apart from a few screams that were louder than the others, there wasn't much to be heard.
This should have reassured me, but in fact I realized that the test was hardly conclusive: Phill's way of making love was too different from my own to ensure that our great, impetuous thrusts that put our bed to the test were not audible to the rest of the household, despite all our precautions.


After a while, I ended up back in the guest room.

I don't recall that we determined in advance who would sleep where and with whom.
But in that moment, it seemed right to let them spend the night together.

So I went to bed, while the last echoes of my darling's final flight of lyricism in her lover's arms were still escaping from the next room, and a typically masculine grunt told me that my wife's vaginal walls were, for the first time, lined with semen other than mine.

[Johng1953]

I particularly love the way you describe how you were feeling during these times rather than graphic descriptions of what goes where. That's where the eroticism lies for me.

[Frenchie]

Thanks John,

Somes are very talented with very exciting graphic descriptions but it's not my case. I'm more at ease with emotions.

Glad you enjoyed.

[54321]

Beautifully told.

54321

[Waytoomuchfun007]

What an incredibly wonderful adventure for both of you to find such depth of success immediately. You truly never know what you're going to find when you step through the doors of a sex club for the first time. After reading about your wife and what she looks like, it would be an honour to have her. Thank you for writing of your experiences (so far). I hope there are more.

[Magellanic29]

Such a great story. I really am loving it! I can't wait to hear more. You have a great way of telling it.

[Frenchie]

Once calm had returned and after long minutes of silence, I was surprised to see my darling climb into bed with me.

She tucked herself up against me and became a pussycat, kissing me, thanking me for allowing her to experience this, and always assuring me of her unfailing love.

From kisses to cuddles, from cuddles to caresses, from caresses to touching, we finally did it again. The two of us, face to face.
Well, not quite face-to-face...
Perhaps because the classic way was a little too slippery or already a little sore, or simply because she felt like it, Raph offered me the path of her small puck...

With my vigor long since restored thanks, among other things, to a most stimulating soundtrack in the last hour, I didn't hesitate.
I duly honored the “dark side of the moon”, unaware that, once again, I was playing the role of entertainer.

Indeed, after leaving me sated and, it has to be said, exhausted by all these emotions, and after granting me one last kiss while Morpheus' arms were already drawing me irretrievably in, Raphaëlle left to join other arms that were waiting for her for her first night out since... well since ever!

Once again, letting my wife sleep with her lover in our marital bed was neither a heartbreak nor the fulfillment of some masochistic fantasy.
It was obvious that it gave their relationship an even more intimate, closer dimension, but it felt natural and I didn't feel I was making a sacrifice.
Like Raph', Phill had won my trust: he hadn't tried to play the dominant bull. He had always shown great respect for me and, above all, for my wife.
While he knew how to be powerful and virile, he was above all gentle and considerate. A rare alchemy that charmed my wife and reassured me of his intentions.
At no time did I have the impression of a macho man saying to me: “Look how well I'm fucking your little slut! Look how I make her scream like you’ll never be able to ! » I couldn't have stood it, and neither could Raphaëlle.

So it was with peace of mind that I drifted off to sleep, alone in the guest bed.
What I didn't suspect was that the sleep opposite would be far less restful...

Indeed, while I was snoozing the sleep of the just, the lovers weren't done with the hanky-panky.
And I would only learn the next day, after Phill's departure, that they had taken advantage of the night to fulfill another of the promises they had made to each other... having regained their strength and resumed their cuddling, Phill was also offered the chance to go through the “back door”.

Alas for them, the caliber of our guest was decidedly too imposing for this orifice.

After an introduction that was a little too painful for my wife, and a few pleasureless back and forths, they were forced to revert to practices that were a little more... conformist, but which would always satisfy my wife's appetite.

This was probably my greatest frustration of the weekend: Knowing that I was sleeping my ass off while my darling ate the pillow in the next room, and not being able to witness it!

[Frenchie]

In the early hours of the morning, I was awakened by the sound of the two lovebirds brushing their teeth one after the other in the bathroom.

After doing as they did, so as not to be the only one of the three with pony breath, I joined them in the bedroom and stumbled upon exactly the same scene I'd witnessed the night before: Phill was already pounding my darling, who was closing her legs over his powerful back.
"Well, well! Now that's what I call wasting no time!"

Like the day before, I resolved to leave them alone.

Like the day before, I kept myself busy in the house, waiting for things to happen before coming back to bed in the guest bed.

And like the day before, my wife came to meet me for a final cuddle and a final cavalcade to end this fabulous night.

*****

After a welcome breakfast and shower, we decided to clear our heads (we needed it a bit!) and take a small walk in the forest.

While Raphaëlle was dying to hold hands with both of us during the walk, and wouldn't have minded a bit of sex in the middle of nowhere either (a desire shared by Phill), the fear of being surprised by acquaintances (and everyone knows everyone else in a small village) forced her to exercise more restraint and give up her guilty pleasure.

So we kept absolutely quiet throughout the walk.



After a quick meal, there were only two or three hours left before Phill's departure.
These last moments for the three of us were fully occupied...

Leaving us men to talk, Raph' went off to lie down to make up for her short night.
After a while, when we didn't see her come back, we went to look and found her fast asleep...

It was a pleasure to wake her up with our four-handed, two-mouth caresses.
It was said that this weekend would end in apotheosis!

My darling gave her all to please the two males looking after her.
We feasted on her, sharing her skin, her body and... her orifices.
We even tried the essential step of a “successful” threesome : double penetration.

But this practice requires a degree of complicity and relaxation that, despite our shared adventure, we hadn't yet achieved.
After two inconclusive attempts, we returned to more “classic” positions, if we can so call having your wife planted on one sex while sucking on another.

Once again, I was the first to release myself into my wife's womb, then I handed over to Phill.

Only this time, I didn't slink away.

On the contrary, I took my place at the foot of the bed, ideally placed to witness an anthology finale.

And I have to say that watching Phill's big phallus inexorably spread my moaning wife's tender flesh less than a meter away from me, and powerfully move back and forth in her intimacy, was undoubtedly one of the most intense experiences of the weekend, and the culmination of a candaulist pleasure I didn't even suspect I had before I experienced it.

[Frenchie]

Eventually, Phill's departure time arrived.

I let them exchange a last kiss and promises to meet again as soon as possible.

Which they didn't.


Indeed, just as they were getting back into the swing of things as far as long-distance exchanges were concerned, two events occurred that thwarted their hopes of a medium-term reunion and the possibility of talking to each other at all.

The first was Phill's transfer across the Atlantic.
It's not easy enough to find time to see each other when you're 700 kilometers apart, but when you're 6,000 kilometers and an ocean away...

The second and most important event was Emma's sudden and radical veto.

Phill's wife felt that the affair was going far beyond the bounds of classic libertarianism, that it was taking on too much importance for their own relationship, and since Phill didn't seem capable of holding on, she ordered him to stop it overnight.

Naturally, he complied. This relationship may have given him a lot of pleasure, but it was no match for a balanced family life with a wife and three young children.

And it was true that a new level had been reached after our three-way weekend, and the tone of the messages between Phill and Raphaëlle had certainly evolved since then.
For beyond the usual erotico-sexual fantasies that had until then made up the bulk of their relationship, it was increasingly common to read words like “mon amour”, “ma chérie” or “je t'aime” in their exchanges.

Undoubtedly, this affair was no longer just about sex or libertinage, but it had to be admitted that feelings, and even strong feelings, had been born between the two of them.
No wonder Emma felt in danger, even though we were far apart, even though my wife had tried to reassure her of her intentions.

And could we blame her?

No, because she was probably in the best position to know the limits of her tolerance.
No, because Phill had perhaps been less transparent with her than Raphaëlle had been with me.
No, because in any case, the best of intentions carry little weight when feelings get in the way.


And me, you may ask, was I not affected by this evolution?
Of course it did.
It would be totally untrue to say that hearing my wife say “I love you” to someone other than me did nothing for me.
And even thank goodness for that!
Yes, there was always that little twinge in my heart, that little glowing ball in my gut.
Because otherwise, it would mean that I didn't care what happened to my wife.
And there's nothing worse than indifference in a couple's relationship.
Besides, can we still speak of a couple's relationship when indifference appears?

I did notice the change in tone and the appearance of feelings between Phill and Raph'.
But it didn't worry me as much as it did Emma.
Firstly, because as always, my wife had been totally transparent with me and had responded to my concerns right from the start.
She had feelings for Phill, of course, but her feelings for me were obviously in a different category with no comparison and no possible competition.
She loved Phill, but she loved me even more and even more than before.

If you add to that a couple of safeguards, such as distance and two respective family responsibilities, it's without worry that I could see her moving towards a situation that has been dubbed “polyamour” by some. It's a borderline notion compared to libertarianism, admittedly, but it exists nonetheless and is often well lived by all its protagonists, as long as lies and secrecy don't get in the way.

But the party came to an end with Emma's veto.

It's been almost two years since all this happened. We never saw Phill again.
Defying the ban, he still exchanges a few text messages with Raphaëlle, albeit very sporadically.


Obviously, our libertinage didn't stop with this experience.
On the contrary: encouraged by this first experience, we were keen to discover other sensations, other horizons.
We redid a few threesomes, tasted the pleasures of side-by-side swinging, soft swinging (without sex) and classic swinging with varying degrees of success, some pleasant surprises and a few disappointments...
We've tried other clubs, private parties, multi-couple evenings, but in the end, nothing can match the intensity of that first encounter.
That's often the charm of a “first time”...


As for candaulist pleasures, I've had the opportunity to experience a few others too, with variations.
The most disturbing was undoubtedly this other “adventure”, which took place a few weeks after the “Phill” episode...

[Johng1953]

Just back from a few days away and was thrilled to see this update.

[Frenchie]

After our first experience, we got into the habit of frequenting the “libertinage” section of a well-known forum on a regular basis. The forum's regulars form a more or less extended group, discussing their own experiences of libertarianism, advising newbies, exchanging information on clubs in France and abroad and, on occasion, organizing “parties” to meet up.

One thing led to another and Raphaëlle found herself chatting with one of this group’s member, Bastien, and as the feeling seemed to be right, they even considered meeting at one of the many parties organized by the group to which he belonged.

However, Bastien's private life was complicated, to say the least: going through a rather messy divorce, he claimed to be in a relationship with a charming girl, Virginie, who was also a libertine since they'd met at a party.
This girl lived 400 kilometers away from him and, as a true open relationship, they allowed themselves solo evenings, each frolicking freely on his own for a fortnight before meeting up every other weekend.
Now that was official talk, or wishful thinking.
In reality, Virginie was finding it increasingly difficult to see Bastien enjoying his freedom as he saw fit, while she was restricting her outings without him.

As with any unbalanced relationship, this led to repeated arguments, shouting matches and sulking, which we witnessed indirectly as he poured out his feelings shamelessly on MSN.

Still, apart from that, he was a pleasant chatty fellow and we could see ourselves meeting him and his girlfriend, although once again, a few hundred kilometers separated us.

***

One afternoon in July, while the kids were spending a few days with their grandparents, Raph' and Bastien were chatting on MSN. He explained that things weren't going well: he and Virginie had just had another argument on the phone.
“I just want to get out of here, he explained: Take my bag, the car and go straight ahead, anywhere! ”
“Tell him to come home and we'll console him,” I suggested jokingly.
Raphaëlle jokingly passed on my proposal.
“Listen, why not?” he replied.

I'd said it just like that, without really believing it, given the distance between us. But he took us at our word. A few minutes later, he wrote:
“- I saw on the internet: By freeway, it takes 3 hours... I'll be there at 8.30 p.m.”

That's how you get caught out by a good word.
Once the invitation has been sent out, it's hard to go back. Especially when the guest has already set sail.
But, come to think of it, it wasn't the ideal time to issue an invitation which, given the pedigree of the guest, was likely to lead to a naughty evening.
Firstly, I had to work the next morning and if I stayed up too late, I wouldn't be much good at my job.
Secondly, and more importantly, I was suffering from a slight temporary discomfort (a little foreskin irritation) and wanted to save myself for the following week-end, when we were planning our first private encounter for four with a local couple.

So I told my wife that if anything happened that evening, it would be without me.

However, it didn't have to get out of hand either.
After all, just because you're a libertine and you meet libertines doesn't mean you're obliged to fool around with them.
What's more, we've subsequently learned that some of our friends living in our village are very... active libertines. They know we're libertines, we know they're libertines, but despite this, we've never had any “naughty” together.
We know how to behave like civilized people, don't we!

***

Our guest arrived at the appointed time. The Internet was right.

We took advantage of a mild evening to have a nice barbecue and eat outside on the terrace.

Bastien proved to be a very pleasant host with a rich and varied conversation.
Well, he was the kind of guy who'd seen it all, done it all and had definitive opinions on just about everything, but we didn't mind all that much. We're used to this kind of character, we know that you have to take some and leave some.

And because he talked so much, the discussion went on well into the night, long after the meal, long after we'd escaped the cool of the evening to settle into our big sofa. You know, the one that had hosted our first romp with Phill...



There was a moment when I convinced myself that nothing would happen that evening after all.
Indeed, although we talked a lot about libertinage, at no time did Bastien hint at any desire to do “things” with Raphaëlle.
He told us all about his many experiences, but gave no indication that he intended to have one with us.

In fact, throughout the evening, he hadn't made the slightest tendentious gesture towards my wife.

At the same time, as for Raph', even if I suspected that the young man's physique was certainly to her liking (handsome, slim and muscular), I also knew that she only moderately appreciated this kind of smooth talker, a little too full of himself and overly expansive.

So it was with no ulterior motive that I let them go out for a last cigarette.

As I don't smoke, I took advantage of this moment to get a head start on making our bed, whose sheets had benefited from the sunny day to undergo their periodic washing.

Anyone who's ever tried to fit a 260 x 240 comforter cover over their comforter knows what I'm talking about: with two people, it's not easy enough, so on your own...
It was a nightmare!
I struggled for a long time with our bedding, but it was with a sense of self-satisfaction and pride of accomplishment that I came downstairs a good twenty minutes later.

They hadn't returned to the living room. No doubt they were still chatting outside, I thought, as I made my way to the kitchen.

As soon as I arrived, I caught sight of them through the glass door and froze in place... They weren't chatting... really... any more.
With her eyes closed and her T-shirt pulled up wide, Raphaëlle pressed Bastien's head against her bare chest. The guy had one breast in his mouth, the other in his hand.


I thought I was an idiot.
A fool for being surprised by this scene. A fool for believing that nothing would happen.
Stupid and clumsy, a klutz.

Now that it had come to this, I didn't know what to do: they hadn't seen me. Should I reveal my presence and interrupt them, or discreetly turn around and let them continue?

In the end, I opted for the second option.

With my heart pounding, I slipped away and went to look for something to do around the house: clear the table, tidy up beyond... My mind was elsewhere, of course!

Even though I'd given my assent to such an eventuality long before it happened, I was still stunned by the scene I'd witnessed.
And beyond the astonishment, what grieved me most was that it had happened behind my back, during the only moment I had left them alone.
When they could have been doing this in full light and freedom a long time ago!
It felt almost like a betrayal.

And yet, on reflection, I had to admit that it made much more sense this way: Still relatively unaccustomed to this kind of situation, it was my wife's way of giving in to temptation while sparing me and my susceptibility as a “sharing” husband.

During a threesome, it's never easy for a woman to make the first move in front of her husband, even if he's openly candaulist. There's always that feeling of unnatural transgression inherited from ancestral morality.
Despite what you might think, it's quite rare to find a one-night stand who's also totally at ease in these moments.

That's why, in the few threesomes we've been able to carry out since then, I've often made a point of leaving for a few moments, at the right time, for one reason or another (if only to satisfy an urgent need) to let the two lovers “tame” each other alone.
Admittedly, it's a little frustrating to be deprived of this special moment, but there's always that sweet ache and inexplicable pleasure in guessing what's going on in the next room that only true candaulists can understand.

So I was more disappointed that I hadn't seen it coming than to discover that my wife was in the arms of our guest.

Well, in his arms, so to speak: when I returned to the kitchen a few minutes later, they'd swapped roles: it was now Bastien who was holding my wife's head against him... and not really at chest level, but a few centimetres lower... And the to-and-fro movements she was making there left little room for uncertainty as to the nature of her activity.

Things had taken a while to get going that evening, but suddenly everything was speeding up.

This time, Bastien saw me through the glass door.
He gave me a small smile, but there was not the slightest hint of guilt in his eyes.
Being caught by the husband of the woman who was sucking him off seemed the most natural thing in the world.

Once again, I let them get on with their “little business”.

But not for long.
I couldn't find anything else to do.

Finally, I opened the door:
“ Hey, I think you'll be warmer inside.”

They agreed and went inside.

But even though they knew I was in on it, there was still a certain awkwardness about it.
Clearly, my presence disturbed them.
As with Phill, and probably a little more than with him, I felt like I was too much.

So, as I'd told Raph' that I couldn't do anything but watch anyway, and that doing so under my watch was obviously disturbing them, I announced that I was going to bed.

I kissed my darling and whispered to her to have a good time.
She kissed me back passionately, with her lovely lips that had encircled Bastien’s cock minutes earlier, but didn't try to hold me back.

****

That's how you foolishly go to bed, leaving your wife to play with a virtual stranger.

Of course, I couldn't fall asleep.
How do you expect to get any sleep when you know your wife is going to get nasty with another man, in your own house?
Simply impossible!

As with Phill, I couldn't help but watch out for noises coming from the living room. On the lookout for the slightest sigh, the tiniest groan, my heart racing as if I were the one playing sport.
If at least this quest had been fruitful, I'd have been able to follow the sounds of the agape, but nada!
They were super silent.
So, hearing nothing, I imagined, alone in my bed... And imagining without knowing inflicted an even more unbearable torment.

Twice, I got up to go and see. I couldn't help it.

The first time, I found Raphaëlle lying on her back, Bastien astride her.
She had his penis in her hand... and no doubt in her mouth too, a few moments earlier.

Once I'd confirmed that it was all right, I left again.

The second time, I turned back before I got there.


And finally, despite the deafening sound of my heartbeat, I finally heard what I'd been waiting for: those moans, those sighs... those little cries, muffled by the distance. Signs that the affair was well under way.

But that didn't calm me down much more.
And despite the return of post-coital silence, I still couldn't get to sleep.
They were downstairs, silent, and I was dying to know what they were doing.

After another long wait, I resolved to go downstairs one last time.
They were naked, sitting side by side, simply chatting.

"It's past 3am. It might be a good idea to go to bed." I suggested.
“ - Yes, you're right!”

This time, there was no hesitation: Raphaëlle would sleep with me, in our bed, and Bastien alone in the guest bed.


On the pillow, I asked my wife, who was curled up against me, how it had gone, if it had been good.
“- Yes, not bad.” She replied laconically.

I don't remember if it was then or later that she would tell me they had done it twice.
This surprised me, as it seemed to me I'd only heard the echoes of a single embrace.
Once again, I was a little frustrated and disappointed that I hadn't been able to “read” the sequence of events.

***

The next morning, I had breakfast alone.
Raph' didn't get up until I was ready to leave for work.
Bastien was still asleep in the guest room.
It had been agreed that he would leave by noon at the latest.

That left them a few hours to enjoy themselves.
That's what I said to my wife as I was about to leave : “Enjoy!”
She kissed me fiercely and let me go.

As I took the wheel, she went to join Bastien in his bed...

***

I don't think I've ever been as out of it at work as I was that morning.

When I left, I thought I'd be able to deal with my wife and our guest fooling around quite easily.

But that was without counting on that damn fireball in the pit of my stomach.
It's one thing to watch your wife make love to someone else.
It's one thing to hear your wife make love to another man without being able to watch.
It's quite another to leave your wife in the hands of another man without being there to see or even hear.

It's a feeling of total helplessness. And even if the excitement is still there, the frustration is enormous.

And no matter how much I tried to reason with myself, telling myself that they wouldn't be doing anything more than they already had, I couldn't shake the dull apprehension that was gnawing at my insides.
Throughout the morning, all I could think about was the two of them and what they were doing.
Imagining them fucking freely sent me into a near-trance.
I was absolutely incapable of concentrating on my files.

And when my darling phoned to let me know he'd left, I was genuinely relieved.
"So, was it good?
"Yeah. I'll tell you about it."

And she did tell me.
That they'd done it twice more, but that my absence had spoiled her fun.
That he too had seemed disturbed by the situation.
In short, it had been pleasant but nothing more.

There was no need to worry!

***

That same evening, I stumbled upon the two used condoms in the bathroom garbage can... Two small flattened latex tubes, each containing a few centilitres of opalescent semen.
It was a strange and unsettling sensation to discover, in cold blood, the material proof of the pleasure a stranger had taken in my wife's womb...

[Frenchie]

Well, that's it.

Well no, that's not all, but recounting our subsequent experiences would probably be a little repetitive and certainly not very instructive: Like all libertine couples, we experimented with a few variations, we were able to refine our preferences and tastes.

We found that mixing (soft swinging) was not for us (too frustrating), that finding harmony for four was utopian, and that threesomes are often the easiest and least “heady” way to have a good time.

For my part, I was able to discover the subtle blend of pleasure, excitement and pain that is hotwifing.
These early experiences have led me to conclude that, although I like and support my wife taking pleasure without me, I prefer it when I can participate.

As for Raphaëlle, although we've never adopted the unbearable rhythm of certain libertine couples who copulate at will every weekend, she seems a little weary of these adventures without tomorrow and without affect.

Somewhere, the memory of her first love affair with Phill still lingers in a corner of her pretty little head, and it's obvious that she'd like to rediscover the delicate and improbable alchemy that made the magic of that encounter.
Purely sexual exchanges have never really satisfied her... “sex for sex's sake... it's a bit empty for me”.

For some time now, she's been infatuated with her swimming teacher (yes, the cliché mentioned in the introduction to this story returns... proving that clichés aren't necessarily so... clichéd).
However, it turns out that this man is neither a libertine nor ready to cheat on his less-than-gentle wife (yes, that kind of alien still exists, I assure you!).

***
So we continued on our libertine way, alternating between 4-way encounters (or even 6-way with 2 other couples) and 3-way encounters.
I often came out of our foursomes frustrated.

No matter how attractive and appetizing the other couple's wife was, there always came a time when I couldn't help but notice the damage: with one or two exceptions, it was impossible to get it up properly with anyone other than my sweetheart!

It was as if she'd put a spell on me and my virility, so that I'd be faithful to her for life!

And, as with our first experience with Phil and Emma, even if I tried to compensate with some very diligent tongue-playing, the fact remained that the lady was entitled to wonder whether she was having an effect on me or not... which in turn was bound to disturb her.

It almost became inevitable: the fear of a breakdown led to a breakdown, which in turn led to mutual frustration.

Fortunately, as a duo, things were still going well!

As a result, it's safe to say that few experiences with 4 or more were truly satisfying for me.

Especially as us guys are a bit primitive when it comes to sex.

Well, let's face it: confronted with other males, we inevitably compare.

We compare sexual performance, and on that point we've just seen that I wasn't competing in the first league, but we also simply compare size.

It's stupid and childish, but when you're naked, there's bound to be a moment when you take a discreet look at the other guy's pecker to see if it's bigger than yours.

And here, too, it was starting to be an issue...

I've already said that I don't have a complex on that point.
Although I’m not particularly well endowed, I thought I was about an honorable average.

Yes, I didn't have a complex... before.

Because I don't know if the percentage of big cocks is higher in the libertine world than elsewhere, or if I had ideas about the “average” size, but frankly, being almost always the one with the smallest cock, I had to revise my notion of “honorable average”!

OK, we'll always find a whole bunch of people (men and women) who'll tell us that size isn't enough, that how you use it is everything etc etc etc....
Ok. Ok. They're probably all right, but in my experience, having seen my wife react to penetration of different sizes, I'm still convinced that while size isn't everything, it does help a hell of a lot!

So there you have it.
Complexed by my own blockages, I was also starting to feel complexed (to a lesser degree) by the measurements of my penis.

That's also why we turned our clandestine activities towards threesomes.
Firstly, because the choice was so much easier (even plethoric), but also because I couldn't see myself depriving my wife of these intoxicating moments (since she could enjoy the vigor of devoted lovers).
In this case, it didn't matter that our partner was better endowed and more enduring than me; on the contrary, it was better this way: At least we weren't traveling for nothing!
Even though Raphaëlle has never made sex size a selection criterion, the fact remains that she's attracted to athletic men and the few times she's come back disappointed from a fling, it's been when the guy didn't have the goods or had a small one.

So much for rhetoric...

[zorro]

Nicely written. It seems that for you swinging just didn't work. You found out why the head of the penis is called the head: It has a mind of its own.

I enjoyed your discovery of compersion: the formal name of what you called then altruistic feeling seeing your wife enjoy sex with another man. It is very real and thoroughly pleasurable. And it has never gone away for me. I am curious if it has diminished for you. For me, compersion makes my wife's sexual adventures feel almost (and sometimes more) enjoyable than my own with other women. Glad you gave it a shout out.

For what it's worth, our version going from swinging to HW amounted to several years of sex parties to eventually only my wife playing with her regular guy here at the house. Although we tried just the two of them playing alone for the afternoon, they and I came to agree that our best times together happened when were all participating in an MFM. So, that is what we do.

I would encourage you to be more involved actively, particpating while your wife has sex with the other guy. You may be letting the thought that you are in the way interfere with a better time. In our playtime, we have advanced to the point where my presence does not interfere with either of them achieving deep pleasure. Sometimes I also step out of the room for a few minutes but then return to join them in mid-fuck. It works just fine. In fact, it gives me bigger and harder boners. Just a thought.

[nnjcpl2002]

Great. Your story closely resembles our own experience over many years. Started by clubbing, moved to seeing other couples, and finally accepting that for us MFM works best. My loving wife was never happy seeing me enjoying another woman, and I was more interested in watching her anyway. Eventually we found a guy with whom a genuine affection grew into a very workable love affair. I was not excluded and our own sex life was enhanced. I began to want the cuckold role and that desire has remained in me to this day.
Thanks for sharing your experience!

[Frenchie]

Nicely written. It seems that for you swinging just didn't work. You found out why the head of the penis is called the head: It has a mind of its own.

I enjoyed your discovery of compersion: the formal name of what you called then altruistic feeling seeing your wife enjoy sex with another man. It is very real and thoroughly pleasurable. And it has never gone away for me. I am curious if it has diminished for you. For me, compersion makes my wife's sexual adventures feel almost (and sometimes more) enjoyable than my own with other women. Glad you gave it a shout out.

For what it's worth, our version going from swinging to HW amounted to several years of sex parties to eventually only my wife playing with her regular guy here at the house. Although we tried just the two of them playing alone for the afternoon, they and I came to agree that our best times together happened when were all participating in an MFM. So, that is what we do.

I would encourage you to be more involved actively, particpating while your wife has sex with the other guy. You may be letting the thought that you are in the way interfere with a better time. In our playtime, we have advanced to the point where my presence does not interfere with either of them achieving deep pleasure. Sometimes I also step out of the room for a few minutes but then return to join them in mid-fuck. It works just fine. In fact, it gives me bigger and harder boners. Just a thought.

Thank you for your kind comment and for your personal account.

I don't think the notion of compersion has an equivalent in French, but it's exactly the point.

I agree with you about the necessity and pleasure of playing in threesomes.
The problem for us has been to find the right third after the first experience, which was a real success. It's not that easy, and maybe we were too demanding.

I'm happy for you to have found your third and the right balance.

Nor is it easy to determine where one's pleasure lies when starting out in this very special lifestyle.
It can take a lot of tinkering.

That was the aim of my story: to bear witness to our adventure.

Thanks again for following me

[Frenchie]

Great. Your story closely resembles our own experience over many years. Started by clubbing, moved to seeing other couples, and finally accepting that for us MFM works best. My loving wife was never happy seeing me enjoying another woman, and I was more interested in watching her anyway. Eventually we found a guy with whom a genuine affection grew into a very workable love affair. I was not excluded and our own sex life was enhanced. I began to want the cuckold role and that desire has remained in me to this day.
Thanks for sharing your experience!

Thank you too.

I'm glad to see that my experience is similar to others of its kind.

My wife was not averse to seeing me having fun with other women. She hoped I could experience the same pleasure as she did, but it never worked out that way.
I think, in my head, if I wasn't really a cuckold, I certainly wasn't a bull either.
More of a stag, actually.
But before I knew that, I had to experiment.

I'm glad you found your way.