The Perfect Wife
Posted: Sat Jun 07, 2025 9:17 am
Our marriage had become too routine with too little sex. Don’t get me wrong, I love and adore my wife – she's so pretty and petite, and we both want to grow old together. But our sex life was next to non-existent. So, I had to be honest with my wife. I told her what I wanted most was to recapture that side of her, and although spicing things up between just the two of us alone was good, I needed to see her raw sexuality with another.
Every man’s definition of what makes a perfect wife is different. It evolves and changes over time as marriages progress. For me, my perfect wife is exactly who she is in most every sense, but sexually unleashed. She’s still the same girl I fell in love with from the very start, but I want her to be my sexual goddess, too.
Of course, she was taken aback, skeptical, and reluctant as most wives would be. Those are the societal handcuffs kicking in, but she continued to listen and worked to understand. I told her I never wanted to lose her, but that if she ever needed to part to be happy, I’d support her in that decision. I was willing to bet that my faith in our lifetime commitment to each other meant our marriage was unbreakable.
I continued to share my fantasy with her. I told her I wanted her to have sex with another man–or at least the threat of it, and share the experience before, during, and after. Although this shocked her, she was willing to go along and explore.
Our first experience was more exciting than I could have ever imagined. We decided she’d go out dressed in a very sexy, not slutty outfit, and go out to a cocktail lounge – without her wedding ring and pretend to be single and available. I’d go as well, but not together. I’d arrive first, and she’d come a little later, pretending to be waiting for a girlfriend to arrive.
Inevitably, she’d get hit on and did. After all, she’s so beautiful, stacked, and sexy. Just watching her flirt with another man from across the room gave me a huge erection the entire time. I loved watching her looking at him, smiling, laughing, and even touching him. After a while, he gave her his number, and we left separately, meeting at home.
It was explosive! We both attacked one another sexually. We couldn’t strip off our clothes fast enough and fucked like wild animals. After we enjoyed a powerful mutual orgasm, we collapsed into each other’s arms. Our touch and kisses flowed with the deep emotional love we have for one another. We had discovered the intense passion of the raw and the unbridled sexual side that had been lost in the everyday monotony of regular life.
We did it again, and again. She didn’t understand why “the single girl” fantasy was so powerful in re-igniting that side of my sexual desire for her. I still wanted to have gentle, loving sex with her as well, but the words finally came to me on how to explain why it pushed all of my buttons so powerfully.
You see, as men, the pursuit of a woman requires winning the girl. We have to compete, not only for her affection, but against other men who also want to win her affection. This competitive nature, especially prevalent in males, is what propagates the human race. Think of another way: if all men were not motivated to pursue women, what would happen? The competition among males dates back to the beginning of time, rooted in the concept of sperm competition, which is built into our male DNA. When another male pursues a female we’re courting, it is emotionally explosive. Most men with any self-worth will choose fight over flight; that also explains why men are so deeply entrenched in competitive sports as a proxy for this phenomenon.
So just a threat alone of watching your woman flirt with another man rekindles that primitive behavior. The male will either take flight or fight, not necessarily through confrontation, but indirectly through vying to win the woman from their competition. If she chooses me over another, that validation is the ultimate win.
In the end, after going out pretending to be single and coming back to me and allowing me to reclaim her, it is the ultimate satisfaction. It validates her choosing me, with free will. She has the power, anytime, not to choose me. A ring alone isn’t handcuffs.
Now she knows how to keep me on my feet. She now knows that if I have to compete for her, it has a direct and positive effect on me. I’m already highly motivated to do whatever it takes to make her happy and feel valued and wanted, but her newfound freedom amplifies that motivation. And it’s not manipulative if we both enjoy the fruits of our games openly and willingly with absolute honesty and full disclosure.
We continued to enjoy our “single girl” game. Some of the men were very attractive and successful, far more so than I. But I never felt truly threatened. Secretly, however, I wanted to feel threatened, and I admitted as much to her. That was the superpower she didn’t know she had. The more real it felt, the more intense the potency of my raw sexual desire to reclaim her. I told her I believed deeply in our commitment to our marriage and growing old together, but I had a burning desire to push it to the limits. I told her if she got hit on by a man that was too hot to pass up, that I was more than OK if he took her home and fucked him.
Sure enough, we went out again and played our little game. I watched from afar as she became entranced by a hot guy. I could tell by their body language that night would be different. It was clear the sparks were flying. I watched as he touched her arm and brushed his fingers across her face and lips as they got closer and more intimate. Eventually, she got up, went to the ladies' room, and came back, picking up her purse and leaving with him. As she was leaving, she turned and looked back at me with a very naughty smile, and I smiled back in full approval.
I was beyond turned on. I left and watched him open the passenger door of his luxury car as she got in and they drove off. I rushed home and waited there on our bed for hours, stroking my erection, which seemed like an eternity. I didn’t dare ejaculate; I was saving it for her.
She arrived home very late after taking an Uber. She stood there at the foot of the bed in her cocktail dress with a smug look on her face. “Well…,” she said smugly, lifting her skirt and revealing her cum-filled sheer panties, “…it isn’t going to lick itself!”
I instantly dropped to my knees at her feet and replied “Yes, mistress!” and proceeded to kiss and smell her belly that was covered in his cum. She pushed my face into her cum-filled panties and demanded with force, “Lick it bitch!”
It was my first time getting cucked, and I was in heaven. Her sexual power overwhelmed me. I was her bitch for the moment as she proceeded to tell me that he fucked her brains out and came in her three times. My cock had never gotten so huge and hard in my life as she pushed my face between her legs – forcing me to smell and tase their sex as she proceeded to retell every minute detail of her adventure – stoking the competition by telling me how much bigger his cock was than mine, how much more cum he pumped in her, and how she wanted him so badly.
After she finished retelling every detail, she upped the ante even more and proceeded to tell me that he wants her for his own, and that he now owns her and she plans to see him and fuck him again.
That sent me over the top. I picked her up and threw her down onto the bed, spread her legs, and plunged the full length of my cock into her – calling her a cheating little bitch and worked to reclaim her. But she wasn’t going to make it easy for me. She laughed and said it was too late – that his sperm was growing in her belly and she enjoyed being his submissive little whore and enjoyed his dominance.
I continued fucking her brains out – calling her a bitch, a slut, and whore. She enjoyed it all – looked up at me and, with a determined look on her face, declared, “I am a fucking whore! I’m HIS whore now. This is his pussy now!”
With that, I exploded in her. Our mutual orgasm was off the charts. I laid there on top of her with my cock still pulsing and throbbing as a massive river of cum, mine, hers, and his, poured out of her between the walls of her love nest and my erect cock still buried in her womanhood. The smell of sex was intoxicating.
We collapsed and fell asleep in each other’s arms - something we hadn’t done since early in our relationship. In the morning, we made tender and deeply emotional love. We both knew the man she went home with and fucked wasn’t a threat to our marriage, but we enjoyed playing the game and we both wanted kept it going. I asked her if he knew she was married. She told him she was in a relationship when they first met at the cocktail lounge, but he hadn’t pressed after that.
He called her that day, and they made plans for a date, which we enjoyed afterwards. She told him we were living together but not married, which upped the ante and the competition, as he wanted her exclusively for himself.
About a week later, a knock came on the door. It was him. I answered. He asked for her, and I told him she had gone out with her girlfriend earlier. He then told me they had met, had sex, and proceeded to threaten me. I told him she was free to choose, and he stormed out.
When she got home, she told me he had tracked her down and she went home with him, had sex, and finally admitted to him that she was married, but he didn’t care – he wanted her exclusively to himself.
She asked me how I felt about it all and said she could cut it off immediately, but I told her we could take things further if she wanted and that the competition was a real turn-on. So, we agreed to extend our game to the next level. She’d get some of her things and move in with him for a while, making the stakes even higher.
She packed her things, and we fucked like animals. While we were fucking she told me she enjoyed being his submissive, and he was a strong Dom. She said he liked to tie her up, make her wear hot latex and leather outfits, collars, and other restraints, and was into really kinky BDSM; it was a new world she enjoyed exploring. Just the thought of that made me explode inside her as she drained my balls with her words. I saw her off that evening but knew she’d be back.
A week passed, and she texted me frequently, relaying her encounters with him. They went out as a couple. I ran into them at the cocktail lounge where they met. They were in a booth together with a group of our mutual friends; she was nestled in his muscular arms. He held her tightly as she looked up at him like an innocent doe in love, and they kissed deeply and passionately. The other couples, who had been laughing before I arrived, looked extremely uncomfortable upon my arrival.
She looked at me with a smug look on her face as I walked by. I muttered and audible “bitch.” The two of us knew we were still playing our game, but none of the others did. I told her she could expect the divorce papers soon, went to the bar, and flirted with an extremely attractive younger woman.
The next day, my wife knocked on the door, jumped me, and we fucked like it was the end of the world. She told me how much she enjoyed keeping our game going, and she was having the time of her life. She admitted she had developed feelings for him, but not to the extent that she’d want anything permanent, and knew it'd eventually end. However, he was still shiny and new, and she wanted to enjoy that for a while, of which I was fully supportive. She knew eventually she’d have to break his heart. She also cautioned that we needed to meet in secret, else he’d kill me. The risk, and the fact that she was now cheating on him with me, was tantalizing for both of us.
Eventually, I began to date more frequently; my wife was incredibly supportive and encouraging. I fucked more women than I could count and have been open about it with her. She doesn’t mind – knowing I’ll not become committed to any of them. Our sex has never been so passionate, and we know this is only a temporary arrangement, but we both want to milk it as long as we can. She’s still living with him, enjoys her trysts with me, and loves hearing about my trysts. I’m enjoying experiencing her pleasure vicariously, and she enjoys mine just as much.
All in all, I’d say I have the perfect marriage, the perfect life, and most of all, the perfect wife!
Every man’s definition of what makes a perfect wife is different. It evolves and changes over time as marriages progress. For me, my perfect wife is exactly who she is in most every sense, but sexually unleashed. She’s still the same girl I fell in love with from the very start, but I want her to be my sexual goddess, too.
Of course, she was taken aback, skeptical, and reluctant as most wives would be. Those are the societal handcuffs kicking in, but she continued to listen and worked to understand. I told her I never wanted to lose her, but that if she ever needed to part to be happy, I’d support her in that decision. I was willing to bet that my faith in our lifetime commitment to each other meant our marriage was unbreakable.
I continued to share my fantasy with her. I told her I wanted her to have sex with another man–or at least the threat of it, and share the experience before, during, and after. Although this shocked her, she was willing to go along and explore.
Our first experience was more exciting than I could have ever imagined. We decided she’d go out dressed in a very sexy, not slutty outfit, and go out to a cocktail lounge – without her wedding ring and pretend to be single and available. I’d go as well, but not together. I’d arrive first, and she’d come a little later, pretending to be waiting for a girlfriend to arrive.
Inevitably, she’d get hit on and did. After all, she’s so beautiful, stacked, and sexy. Just watching her flirt with another man from across the room gave me a huge erection the entire time. I loved watching her looking at him, smiling, laughing, and even touching him. After a while, he gave her his number, and we left separately, meeting at home.
It was explosive! We both attacked one another sexually. We couldn’t strip off our clothes fast enough and fucked like wild animals. After we enjoyed a powerful mutual orgasm, we collapsed into each other’s arms. Our touch and kisses flowed with the deep emotional love we have for one another. We had discovered the intense passion of the raw and the unbridled sexual side that had been lost in the everyday monotony of regular life.
We did it again, and again. She didn’t understand why “the single girl” fantasy was so powerful in re-igniting that side of my sexual desire for her. I still wanted to have gentle, loving sex with her as well, but the words finally came to me on how to explain why it pushed all of my buttons so powerfully.
You see, as men, the pursuit of a woman requires winning the girl. We have to compete, not only for her affection, but against other men who also want to win her affection. This competitive nature, especially prevalent in males, is what propagates the human race. Think of another way: if all men were not motivated to pursue women, what would happen? The competition among males dates back to the beginning of time, rooted in the concept of sperm competition, which is built into our male DNA. When another male pursues a female we’re courting, it is emotionally explosive. Most men with any self-worth will choose fight over flight; that also explains why men are so deeply entrenched in competitive sports as a proxy for this phenomenon.
So just a threat alone of watching your woman flirt with another man rekindles that primitive behavior. The male will either take flight or fight, not necessarily through confrontation, but indirectly through vying to win the woman from their competition. If she chooses me over another, that validation is the ultimate win.
In the end, after going out pretending to be single and coming back to me and allowing me to reclaim her, it is the ultimate satisfaction. It validates her choosing me, with free will. She has the power, anytime, not to choose me. A ring alone isn’t handcuffs.
Now she knows how to keep me on my feet. She now knows that if I have to compete for her, it has a direct and positive effect on me. I’m already highly motivated to do whatever it takes to make her happy and feel valued and wanted, but her newfound freedom amplifies that motivation. And it’s not manipulative if we both enjoy the fruits of our games openly and willingly with absolute honesty and full disclosure.
We continued to enjoy our “single girl” game. Some of the men were very attractive and successful, far more so than I. But I never felt truly threatened. Secretly, however, I wanted to feel threatened, and I admitted as much to her. That was the superpower she didn’t know she had. The more real it felt, the more intense the potency of my raw sexual desire to reclaim her. I told her I believed deeply in our commitment to our marriage and growing old together, but I had a burning desire to push it to the limits. I told her if she got hit on by a man that was too hot to pass up, that I was more than OK if he took her home and fucked him.
Sure enough, we went out again and played our little game. I watched from afar as she became entranced by a hot guy. I could tell by their body language that night would be different. It was clear the sparks were flying. I watched as he touched her arm and brushed his fingers across her face and lips as they got closer and more intimate. Eventually, she got up, went to the ladies' room, and came back, picking up her purse and leaving with him. As she was leaving, she turned and looked back at me with a very naughty smile, and I smiled back in full approval.
I was beyond turned on. I left and watched him open the passenger door of his luxury car as she got in and they drove off. I rushed home and waited there on our bed for hours, stroking my erection, which seemed like an eternity. I didn’t dare ejaculate; I was saving it for her.
She arrived home very late after taking an Uber. She stood there at the foot of the bed in her cocktail dress with a smug look on her face. “Well…,” she said smugly, lifting her skirt and revealing her cum-filled sheer panties, “…it isn’t going to lick itself!”
I instantly dropped to my knees at her feet and replied “Yes, mistress!” and proceeded to kiss and smell her belly that was covered in his cum. She pushed my face into her cum-filled panties and demanded with force, “Lick it bitch!”
It was my first time getting cucked, and I was in heaven. Her sexual power overwhelmed me. I was her bitch for the moment as she proceeded to tell me that he fucked her brains out and came in her three times. My cock had never gotten so huge and hard in my life as she pushed my face between her legs – forcing me to smell and tase their sex as she proceeded to retell every minute detail of her adventure – stoking the competition by telling me how much bigger his cock was than mine, how much more cum he pumped in her, and how she wanted him so badly.
After she finished retelling every detail, she upped the ante even more and proceeded to tell me that he wants her for his own, and that he now owns her and she plans to see him and fuck him again.
That sent me over the top. I picked her up and threw her down onto the bed, spread her legs, and plunged the full length of my cock into her – calling her a cheating little bitch and worked to reclaim her. But she wasn’t going to make it easy for me. She laughed and said it was too late – that his sperm was growing in her belly and she enjoyed being his submissive little whore and enjoyed his dominance.
I continued fucking her brains out – calling her a bitch, a slut, and whore. She enjoyed it all – looked up at me and, with a determined look on her face, declared, “I am a fucking whore! I’m HIS whore now. This is his pussy now!”
With that, I exploded in her. Our mutual orgasm was off the charts. I laid there on top of her with my cock still pulsing and throbbing as a massive river of cum, mine, hers, and his, poured out of her between the walls of her love nest and my erect cock still buried in her womanhood. The smell of sex was intoxicating.
We collapsed and fell asleep in each other’s arms - something we hadn’t done since early in our relationship. In the morning, we made tender and deeply emotional love. We both knew the man she went home with and fucked wasn’t a threat to our marriage, but we enjoyed playing the game and we both wanted kept it going. I asked her if he knew she was married. She told him she was in a relationship when they first met at the cocktail lounge, but he hadn’t pressed after that.
He called her that day, and they made plans for a date, which we enjoyed afterwards. She told him we were living together but not married, which upped the ante and the competition, as he wanted her exclusively for himself.
About a week later, a knock came on the door. It was him. I answered. He asked for her, and I told him she had gone out with her girlfriend earlier. He then told me they had met, had sex, and proceeded to threaten me. I told him she was free to choose, and he stormed out.
When she got home, she told me he had tracked her down and she went home with him, had sex, and finally admitted to him that she was married, but he didn’t care – he wanted her exclusively to himself.
She asked me how I felt about it all and said she could cut it off immediately, but I told her we could take things further if she wanted and that the competition was a real turn-on. So, we agreed to extend our game to the next level. She’d get some of her things and move in with him for a while, making the stakes even higher.
She packed her things, and we fucked like animals. While we were fucking she told me she enjoyed being his submissive, and he was a strong Dom. She said he liked to tie her up, make her wear hot latex and leather outfits, collars, and other restraints, and was into really kinky BDSM; it was a new world she enjoyed exploring. Just the thought of that made me explode inside her as she drained my balls with her words. I saw her off that evening but knew she’d be back.
A week passed, and she texted me frequently, relaying her encounters with him. They went out as a couple. I ran into them at the cocktail lounge where they met. They were in a booth together with a group of our mutual friends; she was nestled in his muscular arms. He held her tightly as she looked up at him like an innocent doe in love, and they kissed deeply and passionately. The other couples, who had been laughing before I arrived, looked extremely uncomfortable upon my arrival.
She looked at me with a smug look on her face as I walked by. I muttered and audible “bitch.” The two of us knew we were still playing our game, but none of the others did. I told her she could expect the divorce papers soon, went to the bar, and flirted with an extremely attractive younger woman.
The next day, my wife knocked on the door, jumped me, and we fucked like it was the end of the world. She told me how much she enjoyed keeping our game going, and she was having the time of her life. She admitted she had developed feelings for him, but not to the extent that she’d want anything permanent, and knew it'd eventually end. However, he was still shiny and new, and she wanted to enjoy that for a while, of which I was fully supportive. She knew eventually she’d have to break his heart. She also cautioned that we needed to meet in secret, else he’d kill me. The risk, and the fact that she was now cheating on him with me, was tantalizing for both of us.
Eventually, I began to date more frequently; my wife was incredibly supportive and encouraging. I fucked more women than I could count and have been open about it with her. She doesn’t mind – knowing I’ll not become committed to any of them. Our sex has never been so passionate, and we know this is only a temporary arrangement, but we both want to milk it as long as we can. She’s still living with him, enjoys her trysts with me, and loves hearing about my trysts. I’m enjoying experiencing her pleasure vicariously, and she enjoys mine just as much.
All in all, I’d say I have the perfect marriage, the perfect life, and most of all, the perfect wife!
