The long, slow burn can be the most painful.
As I mentioned in my first blog post, what happened on New Year’s Eve devastated me more than it should have. I was surprised and rather embarrassed by how upset I felt. It was similar to the heartache I felt at university when I first discovered the deadly mix of emotional attachment and sex, without the committed love to stabilise the concoction.
Firstly, I’m sorry that my first story isn’t an endorsement of how great being a shared wife is. Mind you, if not for this particular encounter, this blog wouldn’t have transpired either. Bear with me; you can read about my more typical (and fun) adventures later. I’m also sorry for how long this post is but there’s about ten years’ worth of backstory here. I may end up splitting it in two posts if I can’t condense it.
About ten years ago, a guy got in touch with me through a popular swingers website. Going by his profile photos, R was an extremely good looking guy so I didn’t hesitate replying to his message. We added each other on MSN Messenger (as you did back then) and discussed what we were both into sexually. It seemed we ticked each other’s boxes. R was keen to join a MFM threesome and that’s all I was offering single guys.
Being an extremely attractive man, R didn’t fail to lure the ladies both online and offline. I know this mainly because he had an incessant need to tell me about his sexual conquests. In retrospect, I suppose he just wanted to share his excitement. Sadly I found it irritating as hell back then. Eventually I told him I wasn’t interested in meeting someone who was so shallow and one-dimensional. I clearly remember how upset he got. R sternly told me not to make assumptions about him; someone I didn’t really know. I think he even blocked me.
After a short while, we got back in touch again. R and I developed a surprisingly meaningful online friendship during which he told me some immensely personal things. A few months later, R told me he was moving to another State for both work and a girl. I wished him well. I didn’t hear from him for a long time until suddenly he was back in touch. R wanted to know if I’d like to meet him for coffee while he was back in town for a visit. I did.
So after a year of online contact, I finally met R in person. I wasn’t sure about his relationship status but it was just a coffee date at any rate. Meeting R in real life was amazing. He was as beautiful as his photos promised. I enjoyed his company but since he wasn’t really a potential fuck any more (I thought…), I wasn’t particularly flirty. It didn’t even dawn on me until we parted ways at the carpark that R wanted a kiss goodbye. To this date I can remember how electric it felt having his tongue in my mouth. It was a long, hot kiss that was to sustain the sexual chemistry between us for years to come.
R moved overseas but we maintained some contact via Facebook. He was in a couple of long term relationships so I left him alone as a good shared wife should. I don’t cut other people’s lawn. Still, there were occasional messages during that time to attempt a catch up but they never eventuated. In fact, contact of late had been very sporadic that when I received a message on Christmas Eve asking if I wanted to see him, I nearly spat out my trifle. R was back in town and single.
I asked my husband if he was happy for us to meet with R. He knew about ‘that guy’ I chatted to for ages and the coffee date nearly ten years ago. I nervously set up a time to meet R after Christmas. Right up until we got to the bar where we arranged to meet, I thought it wouldn’t happen. We both admitted to fantasising about this moment all these years, fuelled by the memory of one very hot kiss. As soon as I saw R enter the bar, I became even more nervous. He still looked so handsome. I wasn’t sure what he made of me.
I needn’t have bothered worrying. When my husband suggested it was time to get back to our house after a few drinks, there was no hesitation on R’s part. We were left alone for a moment and as though reading my mind, R gazed deeply into my eyes and said,
“It’s going to happen.”
Back home, after a polite but unnecessary drink on the balcony (I should have read the situation better in retrospect), I led R through to our bedroom. He stood before me near the bed and I moved towards him. The kiss came naturally as though we were simply recounting the story from ten years ago. I felt his tongue again and reciprocated with my eager mouth. Tasting him. We let our hands do what the privacy of a bedroom finally allowed.
We moved onto the bed and kept kissing. Long, deep and devouring kisses that made up for the years that had passed. Hot kisses filled with promise of realising a lust driven night that was a long time coming. I took off my clothes and helped R out of his pants. He was already hard. Before I could offer to take his cock into my mouth he moved downwards along my body and buried his face between my legs. His tongue probed my pussy lips before finding the right spot to work my clit with it. I usually know within the first few seconds if a guy has oral skills. R was exceptional. When he started using his fingers to explore the secret spots of pleasure that few bother searching for, I exploded.
“I found the spot hey?”
I kissed his wet mouth in appreciation.
By this stage my husband had joined us, casually reclining nearby to enjoy the show. I quickly moved to R’s hard cock as he kneeled on the bed. I slowly teased my tongue over it, looking up at him coyly to ensure his facial expression matched the murmurs coming from his mouth. I worked my mouth over him for a while before stopping, wondering if he might want to get on with the main job at hand. I gestured towards the condoms nearby. He had read my mind.
He quickly put the condom on and didn’t waste a moment. Spreading my legs apart wide, he guided his cock into me. I knew from long ago that he had a decent sized penis from photos. I may have even caught it getting hard beneath his jeans during that first kiss. R’s cock wasn’t particularly thick but the length made up for it. He thrust into me hard, working his cock at a breathtaking pace. It finally hit a point that made me roll my eyes back in ecstasy. Pleased, R said,
“I got the look.”
At some point my husband got involved more in the play, eventually taking me from behind. I noticed by then that R was losing some momentum. He blamed the condom as many guys rightly do. I took it off him and proceeded to suck him while getting fucked. It helped a little but not enough. Poor R was tired from lack of sleep, jetlag and too much wine. I told him it wasn’t a problem and the three of us started to chat casually about other stuff.
On seeing him out, I told him I was thrilled that we managed to do what we had always wanted for so long. He seemed a little disappointed in his performance but I told him I felt fulfilled. At that point at least, I figured I’d have another chance at having more fun with R. I couldn’t have been more wrong.
I won’t go over the details too much. It actually still upsets me a little thinking about it, three days on. It shouldn’t but that’s what happens when you get emotionally attached, especially to someone you’ve desire for so long. Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t in love with R but as I explained to him later, I did have a soft spot for him.
R, my husband and I arrived at the swingers party. We were all excited to ring in the New Year the way only the open-minded know how. R was keen to find a place for him and I to start playing. We found half a bed in a communal room to get naked on. R lay on top of me and we kissed passionately for a while. I felt his hot mouth on my neck as he travelled down towards my awaiting pussy.
Once again R proved himself very capable with his tongue. It felt so good but he seemed concerned about the lack of noise I was making. Perhaps he needed approval? Perhaps that was already a sign of problems. I wasn’t too surprised but he wasn’t hard before doing down on me this time. I reassured him that I was making all the right sounds but the club’s music was drowning it out.
“I think you need to wake me up”, R said as he gestured towards his flaccid penis.
I was more than happy to oblige but no matter what I did, R’s cock wasn’t cooperating. R asked me to play with myself in front of him so I straddled him and ran my fingers over my aroused clit.
“God you are so sexy.” R gasped, yet trying in vain to pull his cock to attention.
It wasn’t fucking enough. It wasn’t fucking enough to be dressed to the nines and being the sexy woman he’d wanted for so long. I dismissed it initially as stage fright since a lot of people were coming in and out of the room. We got dressed and I told R that I wasn’t concerned but that he may like to hang out with some friends of mine who were starting up their own session of fun. He said he might do that later.
Might? Let’s just say R had a great time, proving to my friend that he wasn’t exactly shy. God knows how many times. I lost count once I lost my patience. I’m normally indifferent to playfriends taking off to sample other pastures but R having fun with someone else other than me wasn’t what I needed on New Year’s Eve. Not when he was leaving again soon. I since learned that he even barebacked my friend who was nortorious for saying no to latex. Men who can perform well with protection are gold. If you find one, never let him go.
I eventually got a moment alone with him. I asked how he was going and he seemed fine. I reiterated that my husband and I too be leaving shortly. Was he going to come back with us? No. It seemed R’s brain was not wired in my favour. He had one unsuccessful (in his opinion) session with me, then worried too much during the next session to even get an erection. He wasn’t game to try again, particularly as my husband had had a word to him about how unhappy I was becoming.
What the hell was I supposed to do? As R said, he had no control over his brain where his dick was concerned. I guess if he didn’t want to disappoint me (or himself) again then it was easiest to simply avoid being in that situation. R told me that he ‘liked me’ and was definitely turned on by me. However, I was a great friend to him over the years and being an emotional person, it affected his erections. Not too comfortingly, he told me that it had happened with a few girlfriends too. Great.
I could barely hide my disappointment. Still, I told him that he should stay on at the party and enjoy the night however he may. I returned home with my husband, explaining what R’s issue was. Pretty much the same issue another guy had with me many years ago. What was the point in being ‘hot’ if men couldn’t get it up for me? My husband consoled me by offering his POV which was that R was ultimately not MFM material. He probably would have been fine if he had me to myself. What my husband didn’t know was that I after the threesome, I had offered that option to him if he wanted it. He told me he did but he didn’t follow through. Why?
Three days on, I’m less devastated. It helped getting all this off my chest here but it helped being turned off by R’s barebacking someone who I know really should be more careful. I don’t like to preach but there’s nothing more unsexy than a genital swab being sent to pathology.
Call me fickle, but I’m ready to move on. Just remind me next time to stick to guys who know what they’re doing? Please?