MilkFountain
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You came home early, unexpectedly, and found him/her in bed with another. It happened to me . . .
Came home Unexpectedly, wife in bed with . . .
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SamMalone11
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Are you ok?
soflabbwlvr
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That's why you should always call first.
I came home and surprised my wife with my buddy.
I heard a "Zip" and when I walked in she was trying to act normal and he had that glassy-eyed "I just had a blow job " look in his eye.
She admitted it and later sucked me off and swallowed and she never swallows.
I asked her about it recently and she said she never even remembered the incident. I sure as hell do.
I heard a "Zip" and when I walked in she was trying to act normal and he had that glassy-eyed "I just had a blow job " look in his eye.
She admitted it and later sucked me off and swallowed and she never swallows.
I asked her about it recently and she said she never even remembered the incident. I sure as hell do.
MilkFountain
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However practical and true . . . Your comment would never occur to a trustworthy spouse or partner.
MilkFountain
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I wasn't for a long time . . .
Thanks, now, yes.
We both suffered for a long time. I eventually understood her loneliness while I was away. Over a period of 15 months I had been gone from our newlywed home a majority of the time. Before that we had been together and very united for two years. The guy was a friend to both of us, and we both temporarily lost him. She suffered my bouts of petulant coolness for more than half a year. I felt betrayed.
Eventually I became curious, more and more thinking about the two of them, wondering about the details. I began asking her. Did he make the first move or you? How did it happen the first time? How many times did you make love, how many days? What do you like most about him? Did you want to leave me? Did he cum inside you without protection? Did he stay overnight? Did he make you laugh? Are there things about him you like more than me? Did any of our friends notice? Does he suck your breasts the way I do? Do you make those little cries with him that so turn me on? Have you thought about having his baby? Did he try to get you to leave me? Do you still think about him a lot? The questions haven't ever stopped occuring to me and I haven't stopped pushing her for deeper, more truthful answers. I wanted to understand, but in the process discovered it aroused me -- both asking her and hearing her answers. I'd get so hard anticipating her answer. I think she eventually tumbled to that, and maybe looked for ways to arouse -- mostly by answering truthfully. Sometimes the conversation veered off into our marriage and his life and mine, things she preferred.
I'd returned to find them in bed after having been away for three weeks. Later, I found out that they had made love not once, but several times while I was gone. Mostly in the last week before my return. Our friend was devastated. I'd hang up when he called. My wife would make no comment. I wanted to ask what she was thinking, but didn't. However, a year later I called him up, and invited him to dinner. I didn't tell my wife I was going to call him. I called from the living room, sitting only a couple of feet from her, our ankles intertwined.
The first word out of my mouth when he answered was his name. That got her attention. She made all kinds of face, I suppose dreading what I might say. But I didn't want any strife. Suddenly I missed my friend, our friend. Halfway through the conversation I handed the phone to my wife. She absolutely didn't want to take it. I had to insist, whispering in her ear that it was all right. Reluctantly, put it to her ear.
I wanted them to talk, to sure the three of us were on the same page. I got up and left the room. I wanted to give them space. When I came back in, they were exchanging cordial but not amorous goodbyes.
His arrival for dinner that same evening began a bit awkwardly. We sat in the living room with drinks, soon talking, getting to the point. It was odd. I'd said "No" to the dress my wife had chosen for the evening, suggesting another. In it, she looked really healthy, girlish and happy. On her, that evening, she managed to make it a "Fuck me" dress. Even I couldn't take my eyes off her breasts and legs.
With the drinks, a fire in the fireplace, the growing relief on my wife's face and how she looked, with my deliberately conciliatory conversation, which they took as guidance, we three somehow began to feel relief. We opened up, shared what we'd felt in the months since that cataclysmic break. We discussed what he felt over the many months leading up to that night, how being around her had affected him, and somehow that led us to complimenting my wife. It felt natural. We each had similar feelings, sexual feelings about her. The conversation became more intimate and, yes, he spent the night . . . which required repeated assurances on my part, both to him and her (essentially confusing her by giving approval of their returning to bed together, the same bed).
Initially my wife was confused. Ultimately, the night went well. They both looked to me for their cues. I left them alone initially for about a quarter of an hour. When I joined them, I felt like I was walking in on someone else's conversation.
They were in bed but the sheet and blanket was pulled up only to their knees. When we three had gone together to the bedroom, I immediately left them alone. I decided to stay in the kitchen a while. When I returned, maybe a quarter of an hour later, drinks in both hands, they were embraced, kissing. He had on only his underwear, her nighty was bunched around her hips. I put their drinks down on the side table and asked if they wanted more time. My wife motioned to our friend to move over and followed, scooting close to him, to make room beside her. I was relieved to see she was genuinely eager for me to join her/them. I saw that she was in control, which under the circumstances was a welcome relief.
Periodically, he still joins us. The second time he was over in this new period, I said to him while she was in the kitchen, "If you love her, love her. Hug her and kiss her and fuck her brains out. She wants love, like anyone. I want that for her."
That night he did.
Are you ok?
Thanks, now, yes.
We both suffered for a long time. I eventually understood her loneliness while I was away. Over a period of 15 months I had been gone from our newlywed home a majority of the time. Before that we had been together and very united for two years. The guy was a friend to both of us, and we both temporarily lost him. She suffered my bouts of petulant coolness for more than half a year. I felt betrayed.
Eventually I became curious, more and more thinking about the two of them, wondering about the details. I began asking her. Did he make the first move or you? How did it happen the first time? How many times did you make love, how many days? What do you like most about him? Did you want to leave me? Did he cum inside you without protection? Did he stay overnight? Did he make you laugh? Are there things about him you like more than me? Did any of our friends notice? Does he suck your breasts the way I do? Do you make those little cries with him that so turn me on? Have you thought about having his baby? Did he try to get you to leave me? Do you still think about him a lot? The questions haven't ever stopped occuring to me and I haven't stopped pushing her for deeper, more truthful answers. I wanted to understand, but in the process discovered it aroused me -- both asking her and hearing her answers. I'd get so hard anticipating her answer. I think she eventually tumbled to that, and maybe looked for ways to arouse -- mostly by answering truthfully. Sometimes the conversation veered off into our marriage and his life and mine, things she preferred.
I'd returned to find them in bed after having been away for three weeks. Later, I found out that they had made love not once, but several times while I was gone. Mostly in the last week before my return. Our friend was devastated. I'd hang up when he called. My wife would make no comment. I wanted to ask what she was thinking, but didn't. However, a year later I called him up, and invited him to dinner. I didn't tell my wife I was going to call him. I called from the living room, sitting only a couple of feet from her, our ankles intertwined.
The first word out of my mouth when he answered was his name. That got her attention. She made all kinds of face, I suppose dreading what I might say. But I didn't want any strife. Suddenly I missed my friend, our friend. Halfway through the conversation I handed the phone to my wife. She absolutely didn't want to take it. I had to insist, whispering in her ear that it was all right. Reluctantly, put it to her ear.
I wanted them to talk, to sure the three of us were on the same page. I got up and left the room. I wanted to give them space. When I came back in, they were exchanging cordial but not amorous goodbyes.
His arrival for dinner that same evening began a bit awkwardly. We sat in the living room with drinks, soon talking, getting to the point. It was odd. I'd said "No" to the dress my wife had chosen for the evening, suggesting another. In it, she looked really healthy, girlish and happy. On her, that evening, she managed to make it a "Fuck me" dress. Even I couldn't take my eyes off her breasts and legs.
With the drinks, a fire in the fireplace, the growing relief on my wife's face and how she looked, with my deliberately conciliatory conversation, which they took as guidance, we three somehow began to feel relief. We opened up, shared what we'd felt in the months since that cataclysmic break. We discussed what he felt over the many months leading up to that night, how being around her had affected him, and somehow that led us to complimenting my wife. It felt natural. We each had similar feelings, sexual feelings about her. The conversation became more intimate and, yes, he spent the night . . . which required repeated assurances on my part, both to him and her (essentially confusing her by giving approval of their returning to bed together, the same bed).
Initially my wife was confused. Ultimately, the night went well. They both looked to me for their cues. I left them alone initially for about a quarter of an hour. When I joined them, I felt like I was walking in on someone else's conversation.
They were in bed but the sheet and blanket was pulled up only to their knees. When we three had gone together to the bedroom, I immediately left them alone. I decided to stay in the kitchen a while. When I returned, maybe a quarter of an hour later, drinks in both hands, they were embraced, kissing. He had on only his underwear, her nighty was bunched around her hips. I put their drinks down on the side table and asked if they wanted more time. My wife motioned to our friend to move over and followed, scooting close to him, to make room beside her. I was relieved to see she was genuinely eager for me to join her/them. I saw that she was in control, which under the circumstances was a welcome relief.
Periodically, he still joins us. The second time he was over in this new period, I said to him while she was in the kitchen, "If you love her, love her. Hug her and kiss her and fuck her brains out. She wants love, like anyone. I want that for her."
That night he did.
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MilkFountain
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Excuse my ignorance . . .
Sorry, I couldn't quite figure that out . . . What were you referring to -- previous suspicion?
Sorry, I couldn't quite figure that out . . . What were you referring to -- previous suspicion?
UnderMyKilt
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The implication is that unless you have been the clandestine lover, hiding behind the door, you wouldn't have the suspicion or wherewithal to look there.
MilkFountain
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No . . . dumb me!
Dumb me. No, I was so wrapped up in what my job demanded, and when I called, almost every day, nothing seemed out of place. My wife had always been cheerful (guilt free?). She was the same over the phone as when I was home.
How has your relationship with your wife developed since your best friend and she fucked, what happened?
Dumb me. No, I was so wrapped up in what my job demanded, and when I called, almost every day, nothing seemed out of place. My wife had always been cheerful (guilt free?). She was the same over the phone as when I was home.
How has your relationship with your wife developed since your best friend and she fucked, what happened?
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mtrainer
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Thank you, Under.. exactly. And to you, Milk.. Sorry if you took it the wrong way, I was in no way placing more rocks in your already rocky road, Man.. It's just an old saying about infidelity in general. Shake my hand and let's have a drink.. we share more in common than we don't... except yours has evolved far better than mine!!!
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MilkFountain
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I'm sorry to hear that. It can really hurt . . . Yes. glad to shake your hand!
UnderMyKilt
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"Came home Unexpectedly, wife in bed with . . ."
The dachshunds. (No really....LOL. It happens all the time.)
The dachshunds. (No really....LOL. It happens all the time.)
suckonsimon
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MilkFountain,
A truly remarkable story. A stand in awe of how you worked through all that yourself, and enabled your wife and your good friend to find a way forward too, which has brought a deeper joy for him and for both of you. Amazed, my friend.
A truly remarkable story. A stand in awe of how you worked through all that yourself, and enabled your wife and your good friend to find a way forward too, which has brought a deeper joy for him and for both of you. Amazed, my friend.
MilkFountain
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Thank you . . .
Yes, on walking in on them unexpectedly all the normal reactions went like lightning through my mind: betrayed! Denial! Turn my back and run! Anger! Kill! Beat her to express all my frustration, disappointment, anger and feeling of betrayal into making her feel what I felt. I just wanted him out of the house. I couldn't blame him for wanting her, for any man wanting her, but betrayal washed over me and I didn't know what to do, how to act, what to think.
It's a good thing I left the house. I went back to my car, stood leaning against it, saw our friend leave our home moments later. He glanced up at me but fortunately said nothing, hurried to his car and drove off.
I stayed by my car until my wife came out, tried to touch me, and I shrugged her off. She leaned against the car, not touching me, hugging her body with both arms as I was. We were silent a long time. I was glad she said nothing. When I did speak, I didn't ask Why? I knew. Her voice over the telephone told me she felt lonely. Although she didn't say so in so many words, her voice had told me she felt abandoned.
Finally, I said, "Where do we go from here?" She leaned toward me and gently rested her head on my shoulder. I wanted to put my arm around her, but I think that I didn't pull away told her our bond was still there.
The moment was rescued by hearing our baby cry. I nudged her and said, "Go." She went head down, thoughtfully. I wondered if on hearing our daughter's cry her breasts had begun to leak. I watched her walk away. I wondered if our friend had sucked her milk. I never felt absolute rage and rejection of her, only ambivalent feelings of wanting to hug her, slap her and run away at the same time.
For a long time it was bad. She made so many overtures to talk, to touch. The turning point came about two weeks later, when I couldn't stand it any more. I wanted to touch her. I was lonely and horny, and suddenly I was afraid of the possibly permanent damage my continued coldness
toward her would bring.
I have flashes of jealousy when he embraces her, when I watch them lost in each other as he shows he's taken to heart my instructions to love her and fuck the hell out of her. I watch her face, her hands, how she wraps her legs around him and cup her open bottom up to receive his climax. But she also goes out of her way to reassure me, clinging to me afterward, always sitting beside me at the dining table, across from him. And she says things when deliberately comparing us to my advantage, that whether true or not, declare her choice of me first.
Also, there are moments so hot the expression "It doesn't get any better than this." shoots through my mind: a once in a lifetime vision of her laughing out loud, mouth wide, so please with herself as she pumped his cock under the table at a candlelit dinner at a good French restaurant while the waiter took our dessert orders as our friend was spraying the underside of the fancily table-clothed table. Another time, her came over early in the morning, when it was still dark, joined me, sucking milk from her other breast while she slept, and then suddenly turned her over, face down, straddled her bottom and came immediately. I guess she hadn't been entirely asleep. She hopped up, stayed in the bathroom several minutes, threw herself face down on the bed, wanting to sleep more, but lay a hand on our friend's belly and said to him, "Don't feel bad, just thinking."
Yes, on walking in on them unexpectedly all the normal reactions went like lightning through my mind: betrayed! Denial! Turn my back and run! Anger! Kill! Beat her to express all my frustration, disappointment, anger and feeling of betrayal into making her feel what I felt. I just wanted him out of the house. I couldn't blame him for wanting her, for any man wanting her, but betrayal washed over me and I didn't know what to do, how to act, what to think.
It's a good thing I left the house. I went back to my car, stood leaning against it, saw our friend leave our home moments later. He glanced up at me but fortunately said nothing, hurried to his car and drove off.
I stayed by my car until my wife came out, tried to touch me, and I shrugged her off. She leaned against the car, not touching me, hugging her body with both arms as I was. We were silent a long time. I was glad she said nothing. When I did speak, I didn't ask Why? I knew. Her voice over the telephone told me she felt lonely. Although she didn't say so in so many words, her voice had told me she felt abandoned.
Finally, I said, "Where do we go from here?" She leaned toward me and gently rested her head on my shoulder. I wanted to put my arm around her, but I think that I didn't pull away told her our bond was still there.
The moment was rescued by hearing our baby cry. I nudged her and said, "Go." She went head down, thoughtfully. I wondered if on hearing our daughter's cry her breasts had begun to leak. I watched her walk away. I wondered if our friend had sucked her milk. I never felt absolute rage and rejection of her, only ambivalent feelings of wanting to hug her, slap her and run away at the same time.
For a long time it was bad. She made so many overtures to talk, to touch. The turning point came about two weeks later, when I couldn't stand it any more. I wanted to touch her. I was lonely and horny, and suddenly I was afraid of the possibly permanent damage my continued coldness
toward her would bring.
I have flashes of jealousy when he embraces her, when I watch them lost in each other as he shows he's taken to heart my instructions to love her and fuck the hell out of her. I watch her face, her hands, how she wraps her legs around him and cup her open bottom up to receive his climax. But she also goes out of her way to reassure me, clinging to me afterward, always sitting beside me at the dining table, across from him. And she says things when deliberately comparing us to my advantage, that whether true or not, declare her choice of me first.
Also, there are moments so hot the expression "It doesn't get any better than this." shoots through my mind: a once in a lifetime vision of her laughing out loud, mouth wide, so please with herself as she pumped his cock under the table at a candlelit dinner at a good French restaurant while the waiter took our dessert orders as our friend was spraying the underside of the fancily table-clothed table. Another time, her came over early in the morning, when it was still dark, joined me, sucking milk from her other breast while she slept, and then suddenly turned her over, face down, straddled her bottom and came immediately. I guess she hadn't been entirely asleep. She hopped up, stayed in the bathroom several minutes, threw herself face down on the bed, wanting to sleep more, but lay a hand on our friend's belly and said to him, "Don't feel bad, just thinking."
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sterculius
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I knew my wife was a slut when I married her. It was probably what attracted me to her in the first place. I guess I expected her to stop after the wedding. I suspected she was meeting guys when she went to her girlfriends place (who was an even bigger slut than my wife was) and stayed out late. I finally came home early and found her fucking a neighbor. This led to us eventually getting a divorce even though we have 3 children. What inclined me to tolerate her slutty behavior was that I was routinely meeting with guys to suck their cocks the same as I'd been doing since I was a teenager. She had no idea I was a cocksucker and still doesn't know. Not too long ago I admitted to my present wife that as a teenager I used to enjoy giving blowjobs to my best friend. I haven't told her that I used to be the neighborhood cocksucker or that I still give guys blowjobs.
RipRespon
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My wife was a total slut so I'd often come home to find her in bed with someone, but it wasn't unexpected. However, I did enter the office once (we were closed at the time) and heard some moaning coming from her office. I quietly snuck up expecting to find her with one of her lovers. But to my surprise I peak in and saw one of our suppliers sitting on top of my wife's desk facing the door with her dress and bra pushed up to her shoulders, exposing a gorgeous body while my fully clothed wife was on her knees sucking her pussy.
Rockymtnman
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I walked in on a girl I was messing around with banging a friend of ours. Just said sorry and went out to the living room and watched tv. Didn't bother me one bit as I had banged her sister (also her roommate) on more than one occasion, which she knew. Figured, it was none of my business. They actually ended up getting married and are still together. Never touched her again. I was in the wedding. He only brought it up once and said thanks for not being a total dick about it. He felt guilty for a long time. And I said that was the dumbest thing to feel. I love them both very much.
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