As I stood in the doorway to kiss my husband goodbye, he placed a condom in my hand and whispered the words “Don’t be a good girl”. Those 5 words sent a frisson of electricity though my entire body, making my body hair stand on end and my stomach flip, but I couldn’t tell if it was excitement or nerves. I laughed it off and replied “It’s just drinks” before getting in the car to go on my first date with another man in over 25 years.
As I drive to the next town so many thoughts fill my head. What if he stands me up? What if he doesn’t find me attractive? What if I’m bigger than he was expecting? Should I have worn a dress with so much cleavage? Should I actually pass him my thong after going to the toilet (my husband’s suggestion)? But the predominant thought was What on earth am I doing?
My husband and I went to school together right up until I moved away at 13. Wild times were had abroad, making new friends and finding my place, then later drinking, dancing, dating and generally living the life of a mildly rebellious teenager. I went to high school on the bible belt in the States and things were very strait laced. Saving oneself until marriage was heavily pushed and teenage pregnancy did not exist in the wealthy neighbourhood we lived in. But I was British with loose morals, having already had my first kiss long ago, and with parents who thought it was ok to drink from 16. I had fun dating, drinking, flirting and just enjoying life with no responsibilities. Many fumbles (and more) were had at parties with one longer term boyfriend, but I returned to England at 17 still a virgin. I dated a few boys on and off, kissed my share of frogs and generally played the field a little. I didn’t plan to save my virginity until marriage, but I wanted it to count, to be special and to be with someone I cared about.
About a year after I returned I was invited to an 18th birthday party, and ended up kissing hubby on the dance floor. He walked me home that night and pretty much from that night onwards we were a couple. Madly in love and so well matched. We decided to go to different Universities but saw each other every single weekend and managed a long-distance relationship very well. He was at a male dominated engineering University, but I was in a city where everyone was experimenting with their sexuality. People hit on me, but I wasn’t even the slightest bit interested. I even remember overhearing the lads in my halls saying, “She’s seeing someone now, but we can be her shoulder to cry on when they break up”. Well clearly that never happened. My friends were fascinated by my big boobs and a couple of my female housemates would use every drunken opportunity to cop a feel. I didn’t really mind, we were all just friends having a laugh and I remained faithful to hubby.
So how did we get to this point? It was his suggestion, of course. It is his suggestion most of the time with swinging couples. Apparently, he’d been thinking about how hot it would be to watch me with other men for a couple of years. He slowly introduced the idea to me in the bedroom over the period of a few months. We would fantasise about different open-air places we could have sex, talk about people watching us, and then finally he introduced the idea of watching me with other men. I honestly don’t remember the conversation and how he brought it up as a reality, but we spoke about it in a “that would be crazy, but fun” kind of way for about a month. Then one night he came home from work and handed me login details for fabwingers.com telling me he’d opened an account and for me to have a look. Two weeks later I was heading out on my first date with a gorgeous looking bloke. We’d decided to just have a drink, not to book a hotel as I felt I really need to feel comfortable with someone before having sex with them. After all this would be only the second person I’d ever slept with!
He was late so I was standing there waiting in the dark, half expecting to be stood up. I was slightly panicked and embarrassed at the thought of having to tell hubby he was a no show, but he called and explained he had got caught in roadworks. After a few more minutes I caught a glimpse of him walking down the street towards me and couldn’t decide if I should run into his beautiful muscular arms or just run in the other direction. So I froze. What the fuck was I doing? He was definitely the same man I’d been chatting to, but he had more grey around his temples and more wrinkles around his eyes, an old photo of course. But he was still very attractive, polite, and kissed me on the cheek. We looked at the pub we had agreed to meet outside, it looked dead so decided to walk on and find somewhere else, deciding it would be better if our conversations weren’t overheard.
As we reached the corner he pulled me into him and asked if he could kiss me. I managed a squeak of consent and then we were kissing. I was kissing another man, a man who wasn’t my husband, and my husband knew. That thought combined with the feeling of his soft lips gently teasing at my bottom lip drove me absolutely wild. I was lost in the moment for a good few seconds before some lads across the road cheered and brought me back round. I was only in the next town over from where we lived, I could bump into friends, school mums, colleagues. He must’ve sensed my panic as he grabbed my hand and started to walk again.
As we walked thoughts flew through my head, this was amazing, risky, terrifying and confusing all at once. We got to another bar which seemed super rough so continued to move on, holding hands chatting easily and then realized there was nothing more up here but the church. He gently pushed me on to sit on the church wall, took my face in his hands and kissed me again. This time more ugently, more tongue, more force, more desire and I find myself responding with the same passionate enthusiasm. I could feel his hand run slowly up my thigh, underneath my dress and just that one move had me so wet I could feel how damp my thong was as he pushed against it. I was well and truly focused on nothing but his hands and his lips, a moment of pure lust and sexual chemistry. But again the panic of being seen crept in andi stiffened up so he pulled me in to a side alley and gently backed me up against the wall. He paused smiling at me, giving me a second to relax, one hand on my neck, just below my ear, the other against the wall. My breathing slowed, and the slow kissing began again. As he leaned in against me, I could feel how hard he was, his cock pushing against my stomach, but once again the intrusive thoughts kicked in. Not about getting caught this time, but thoughts of self consciousness. Could he feel how squishy my belly was as he leaned into me? The last time someone saw me naked for the first time I had a smooth flat belly and, well, literally the firm the body of an 18 year old. Two kids and some very happy years of marriage had made me a bigger, softer version of my former self, with a belly I despise. But no, he hadn’t noticed, or didn’t care. He still seemed to be into me, hands wandering all over as we stood in the church alleyway kissing like teenagers. He gently lifted his knee between my legs, encouraging me to separate them before once again sliding his hand between them. The other hand trailed down from my neck, over my collarbone until he was teasing the top of my breasts. He stopped kissing me to look down before carefully releasing my boob from my dress, then ducked to take my hard nipple in his mouth. My God this was so fucking hot, like something out of a film, and I was greedy for more. We carried on like this for a few minutes until a car drove by, once again bringing me back to the real world. I tell him we should go for that drink and he steps back to watch me with a smirk on his face as I dress myself and try to look less flustered.
We find a nice bar that serves tapas and order some drinks and a couple of plates to nibble on. We casually chat as if we’re weren’t nearly naked just a few minutes ago. We talk about the lifestyle, experiences, fantasies, and after a while the conversation dries up so I nip to the loo. Now for the dilemma. Hubby suggested at some point in the night I should remove my thong and hand it to my date and fuck that sounds hot, but I just don’t have the confidence to do it. In my head I hand over a sexy thong and he holds it up a giant pair of undies, like Black Jack in Shallow Hal! So anyway, I slip them off and pop them in my handbag, text hubby and tell him what I’ve just done, and join my date back at the table.
We finish our food and drinks and he offers to walk me to the car, this time along the river where it’s quieter. We amble along, hand in hand occasionally stopping to kiss. As we reach the cover of the bridge once again I’m being pinned against the wall, his hands all over me as I lean back and take it all in. Once again he pulls away and we continue to walk, he’s teasing me, making me want more. At this point I’m beginning to regret my decision about not booking a hotel. Clearly we can’t keep our hands off each other, and at this point I’m so worked up I need him. Yes I need sex with this complete stranger. Thoughts of my husbands parting words creep in to my head, that’s a free pass, right? We reach a bench in the park by the river, and suddenly I’m being bent over it, as he slips his hand up my leg from behind and straight inside of me. Noticing my sudden lack of underwear spurs him on more and he pushes his fingers deeper inside my wet pussy. I’ve no idea how long he does this before a lady appears in the distance and it is at this point we realise we need to get to my car as quickly as possible.
We get to my car and climb in straight in to the back seat. I climb on to his lap as we kiss and he undoes my wrap dress so I’m in nothing but my bra and heels. I start unbuttoning his shirt to reveal his firm chest and tight abs. He flips me on to my back and immediately buries his legs between my legs. His tongue on my clit has me immediately bucking my hips, pushing into him. I look up to see he’s curled up wedged between my pussy and the car door, giving the impression of a full grown adult squeezing into a little tykes car! I start giggling and suggest we’re put the seats down in my estate and get into the back.
The urgency starts again as he removes his trousers, I reach for his cock about to take it in my mouth but again I’m pushed onto my back and he’s between my legs. Within seconds I’m on the edge again, I grab the back of his head pushing his tongue onto me harder. He slips his fingers inside of me again and starts to pump, I can hear myself moaning louder and louder until I explode. There’s a lull as he removes his boxers, I look around the car and notice the windows have completely steamed up. What on Earth am I doing? I’m a fully grown woman, not a teenager with no place to go!! He lifts his head for a kiss and I can taste myself on his lips. At this point my phone pings and it’s hubby asking where I am and if I’m ok, I’ve been quiet for too long and last he heard I’d removed my thong. I quickly reply that I was fucking him in the car and put my phone aside to concentrate on the fact that he was putting in a condom. Still laying on my back my bra pulled down to expose my tits, he hovers over me and looks me in the eye, silently asking for consent. A small smile plays on my lips and that’s all the permission he needs before he slowly dips the tip inside of me. I let out a long low moan which encourages him to slide all the way in. The second cock to ever be inside of me. The thrill of it, the naughtiness, the exhilaration overwhelms me. My mind is racing, my heart is racing and I’m already so close to coming. My body is so easily influenced by my mind. He grabs my ankles lifting my legs allowing him to push deeper inside of me, squashing his head against the roof of the car. He slowly builds up the pace and that’s all it takes to tip me over the edge again, my body shaking as he thrusts harder. Only a few moments later he growls and I feel him coming inside me. I stop moving, allowing me to feel the pumping sensation inside of me. He climbs off and collapses next to me as I realise I’d been holding my breath. I let out a huge sigh. A sigh of contentment, satisfaction and pure joy. We make small talk and giggle as we find items of clothing around the car, my shoes are in the front and my dress under the seats where I’d laid them down! We say our goodbyes and agree to meet again with hubby next time. I pick up my phone and drop hubby a text letting him not I’m on my way home and start the car.
The whole way home my mind is going crazy. Flashbacks of the incredible moments and throughout the night, but also fear and regret, even an element of guilt. This was not the plan, this was not what we discussed. It was just a drink, but then hubby did tell me not to be a good girl. He did give me a condom.
I park up and enter the darkened house, the kids, dogs and even hubby were in bed. I go upstairs and creep into our bedroom, unsure of the reception I would get. “Good evening” says his voice from the darkness, and I’m flooded with relief. This man, who I have loved for so long, was happy. I know him, I know his voice and I can hear the shock, excitement and maybe even pride in his voice. But most of all I know he is turned on. I strip off and climb in to bed next to him and we talk through every detail of the night, he’s incredulous but loving every minute. Our hands wander and we start to explore each other, reenacting some parts of the night. We have the most incredible sex, what I then knew of as reclaim sex but now refer to it as reconnection sex. Because that’s what it is. We connect with each other mentally and physically after being with other people. We understand and appreciate that more than one person is able to meet our needs both physically and mentally, to a degree. However nothing ever comes close to that bond we have, that love we feel for each other, and the emotions that only we provide each other. And this knowledge brings us closer, the experiences highlight our strengths, help us grow together and nurture our relationship.
Author and credit for the following blog -🔗 Happy Hot Wife x

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