I'm surprised at how many husbands enjoy the idea of their wife being adulterous with other men. I thought I was unusual. It formed the basis of many of my favourite sexual fantasies for many years, dreaming up situations that I knew could never actually happen. In many ways, such fantasies are much better than reality; no fear of consequences for one thing. I'd never dared tell her about my imaginings, fearing that if she knew she would be disgusted and disappointed in me. That tells you the kind of things I was conjuring up in my head were frequently rather extreme.

Don’t misunderstand me, she is no prude and there had been occasions where sex was more than vanilla, even kinky. When we had first met, she had shared some ropey old porn videos that her previous boyfriend had left at her house. They were explicit, but like most porn in the eighties, unimaginative and quite boring once the clothes were too quickly discarded and the humping had begun.  

There were one or two exceptions. One especially appealed to me and I had noticed that her knickers were wetter under my fingering than was usual as we watched it together one night. I hadn't asked her if it turned her on especially, which with hindsight and later experience I wish I had; it could have led to more and sooner than was the case. 

In it, a middle-aged wife found herself the object of the attention of some younger men while her husband looked on. To cut a long story short, they were partying and drinking a bit too much and she ended up in just her bra and knickers in an impromptu striptease. Her husband pretended to have passed out but watched as she danced with each of the young men, eventually losing her underwear to their many grabbing hands. Stripped of her inhibitions, she succumbed to their attentions. It ended in the inevitable gang bang while the husband surreptitiously masturbated. When they were left alone, the husband went down on her as she lay back on the bed, sleepily fondling her own breasts. None of them had used condoms, but he didn't hesitate to lick her intimately.

It didn't escape my notice that several times after watching the video, my wife had pushed my head down between her legs after I had cum inside her. I must admit that I enjoyed pretending I was doing what the husband in the video had done, but we never spoke about it. 

Despite not discussing the idea that was burning in my imagination for several years, I think it was probably inevitable that something would happen one day. 

Nothing was ever likely to happen in our home town though, too many people we knew might get to hear. A weekend break away might just provide the opportunity to reveal my desire to her.

We checked into our hotel earlier than we had planned; the traffic had been lighter than anticipated. The room was bright and airy, an executive suite with an office area and a sofa and armchair. The bathroom boasted bath and roomy shower cubicle, toilet and bidet. She showered while I made coffee. I showered, slipping on one of the luxurious bathrobes and slippers that the hotel room provided, just as she had done. I lay stretched out on the Emperor bed, leafing through the supplied tourist pamphlets as she sat on the edge applying her makeup and chatting about inconsequential things. 

I almost missed the single sheet glossy advertisement, it was inside a leaflet advertising the delights of the local shopping mall, not an item of great interest to the average husband. It slipped out and presented me with an image that was bound to catch the attention of the average male, a deep décolletage. At first I thought it was a simple ploy to catch attention, which it certainly accomplished, but quickly realised that this was no ordinary public house being advertised behind a beautiful bartender. I shared it with Emily, more as a joke than with any real intent or hope. 

She paused in her (in my view unnecessary) beautification activity; she was beautiful enough in my eyes. There was no doubting it, to my surprise and physically manifested excitement, she was genuinely interested. She took the advert and read it, a smile playing on her full slightly parted red coated lips, unconsciously glossed by the brief passing of a wet pink tongue. I recognised the sign; She was excited. She turned toward me, her robe parting to expose almost most of her breasts, both dark brown aureole just shy of her nipples. 'Would you like to join me?' She asked, in a deliberately seductive whisper. 

'Are you serious?' I tried to sound amused, but I'm sure my excitement at the prospect was betrayed by the thickness of extra dry lips and my attempt to conceal the almost painful erection that had sprung out of nowhere. 

She leaned toward me, her breasts now completely exposed as she allowed the robe to part. Her nipples were as hard as I'd ever seen them and I could not resist, her hands clasping my head urgently, fingers gripping tight as I nibbled and licked like a sex starved teenager. The leaflet fell to the floor, I recovered it later as she took another shower. The Old Barn was a pub with a difference. Thursday night was adult only over fifties music and entertainment evening, presenting local 'anonymous person' strip night. 

We had started our weekend early, tomorrow was Friday.

I left my wife sitting on the edge of the bed in her underwear, black bra and the full knickers that more mature woman prefer to wear for comfort and support with tights pulled up over her rounded belly up under her bra, a combination which I find strangely appealing. She was busily making those unfathomable adjustments to her makeup.
Unfortunately my tentative slightly embarrassed enquiries led to disappointment. The Old Barn had been closed. Apparently, things had got out of hand and their licence had been revoked. The receptionist winked conspiratorially as he informed me. He suggested we used the adjoining restaurant, which he recommended highly and unsurprisingly. 

Emily was openly disappointed. I was surprised at her reaction. We had never seen as much as a burlesque show and she had never shown any interest in doing so. This was an exciting development and one which opened an opportunity which might close as suddenly as it had opened. I decided to take it, asking her directly why she was so disappointed.
‘I'm not really,’ she said, examining herself in her bedside mirror and adjusting something with her tweezers, ‘I just thought it would be different.’
I decided to go for broke, ‘Would you have considered being the anonymous person?’
‘God no!’ She laughed, looked at me and down at her still undressed State, ‘I'm not exactly a spring chicken am I!’
‘You still do it for me,’ I protested, ‘I’d have entered you.’ 
‘Oh really,’ she shook her head, ‘and I’d have meekly stripped in front of an audience, in your dreams.’
‘Yes, in my dreams.’ I laughed, deciding perhaps I was risking spoiling the evening by overstepping the mark. Perhaps my wishful thinking had fooled me into misinterpreting her disappointment. It was just curiosity. 
‘Seriously though,’ she continued, you didn't really think I'd be interested in that way? Does it appeal to you?’
‘What, you stripping? It's something I've fantasised about’
She'd finished her makeup now and was tinkering with her hair. 
‘You've imagined me stripping? For an audience?’
The conversation was affecting me, I felt a surge of excitement and a familiar stirring. 
‘More than just stripping, I've imagined you in quite a few different ways. You still turn me on.’
She was looking at me, curiously, as if on the edge of a question, but she didn't speak. 
‘I've imagined you in the porn we've watched, it's more exciting when it's you.’
‘Would you like that, watching me being a bad girl?’
‘You have to ask?’
‘I thought you'd be jealous.’
‘I would, that's the sour in sweet and sour, the bitter in bitter sweet.’
She laughed. ‘How very poetic.’
She looked serious. ‘I had no idea. It's now even more disappointing that the Old Barn is no more.’
It was my turn to laugh, ‘you are all talk! Now it's safe you tell me you'd have taken part and not just been a reluctant voyeur.’
She still looked serious, stood from the bed, picked up her black evening dress and carefully pulled it over her head, tugged it down over her bra and turned away from me.
‘Zip me.’
Once I had, she turned and put her hands on my shoulders. Looking earnestly into my eyes, her own eyes were their usual dark brown pools, but they seemed to twinkle more than usual. 
‘I would do whatever you want,’ she said, and don't think you are the only one who has naughty fantasies.’

We dined in the restaurant adjoining the hotel; it lived up to the promise of the receptionist, Henry. It was Henry who delivered our coffee as we finished up, once again winking conspiratorially. 
‘He's an attractive young man,’ said Emily, ‘is he the one who told you about the Old Barn?’
I nodded, ‘yes. You think he's attractive?’
‘He has a tight bum’, she chuckled, ‘do you mind me saying that?’
If she'd had the feeling in my pants her words engendered, she wouldn't have needed to ask.
‘Not at all, I like it.’
She reached across the table and our fingers entwined. 
‘You didn't tell me any of those fantasies you have me starring in.’
‘I'm not sure I'd be able to stand without embarrassing us if I told you here.’
She frowned, then laughed as understanding lit her face with amusement. 
‘You get that excited?’
‘It has been known to happen, my cock doesn't know I'm in a public place.’
We shared the moment in laughter. 
‘Would you like a night cap, on the house, in the lounge?’
Henry had returned without our noticing, I wondered if he had overheard anything. The thought appeared to have occurred to Emily too. 
‘Is the lounge intimate?’ She asked.
Henry nodded, ’yes madam, it's by invitation only. You will be alone. Of course I shall be available.’ 
‘Oh really?’ She commented, ‘that sounds…perfect. But I think we are ready for our room now. Will you be available there?’ The empty bottle of Merlot explained the apparent loosening her inhibitions. It dawned on me that I'd only had a single glass. 
‘Emily, I'm shocked! You embarrass him.’
‘Oh I think it would take a lot more than that to embarrass Henry.’ 
Incredibly, she had reached out and placed a less than subtle hand on his thigh, her eyes pointedly staring at his crotch, she lifted her gaze and smiled broadly into his impassive expression. 
‘Indeed madam, if sir approves, I can be available to your room.’
I struggled to find a coherent witty response, the possibilities of the unexpected situation flooded my thoughts and tied my tongue. 
‘Oh yes, Henry, I can assure you he does.’ She removed her hand. ‘I think a bottle of French brandy and three glasses to our room?’
‘Would four glasses be acceptable?’
My wife pushed her seat back and stood, brushing down her dress which had risen when she sat. 
‘Bring as many as you think we need, is that ok darling?’ 
I assumed she was asking me, though with this new Emily she may have been asking Henry. 
‘Yes, of course, whatever you think.'
It didn't really occur to me what they were arranging until later. At that moment I was more concerned about my awkward physical discomfort. I stayed seated. I had to wait for the tent in my pants to subside.

When we had finished up dinner, Emily was a little unsteady on her feet, so I elicited the assistance of Henry, who despite my protestations called for the assistance of a stocky man with grey receding hair who seemed to be aimlessly loitering in reception. Don, as he was introduced to us, looked about ready for retirement, to bed and from employment; but he willingly mirrored Henry, slipping his arm around Emily’s waist and allowing her to put her arms around both men’s shoulders for support. I followed along, feeling peculiarly like a gooseberry on a date. 

Emily chattered and giggled like a teenager, had to be restrained from prodding all the buttons in the lift. My suspicion that she was adding a little colour to the effect of the wine was confirmed when she caught my eye and winked. 

I opened the room door and the guys virtually carried her into the room, hoisting her onto the bed. She dragged them with her and they ended up sitting three in a row on the edge of the bed. 

‘I’m sorry sir, we’ll leave you if your wife lets us,’ said Henry, having been pulled back down when he tried to leave, as had Don. 

‘No, stay!’ protested Emily, clinging to the men with a grip that they seemed powerless to escape. Two grown men? Were they really trying?

‘Have a brandy with us,’ she begged.

‘Do you mind, sir?’ asked Henry, a slight upturning of his thin lips betraying his amusement.

‘Not at all, Henry, I appreciate your help. Don?’

‘Yes sir, I’d enjoy a night cap, but then I really must get to bed, I have an early start sir.’

‘Oh Don, that’s a shame, I felt like a party,’ giggled Emily, pulling Don closer and planting a kiss that left classic lipstick lips on his cheek.

The older shot me an embarrassed glance, I grinned back, equally embarrassed at Emily’s behaviour, especially knowing that she was not as far gone as she appeared. 

‘Would you gentlemen help me get comfortable?’ she asked, twisted her body away from Henry, ‘Don, would you mind unzipping me?’

He looked at me, I nodded. He reached up and fumbled with the fastening of her dress, unhooked the clasp and pulled down the zip a little. She stood, ‘all the way please.’

He stood behind her and dragged the zip slowly down, the dress parting exposing her back and the stark black strap of her bra. Henry had also risen from the bed and, unbidden, pulled the dress from her shoulders. I stood transfixed, the brandy bottle in my hand, forgotten as the two men stripped the dress from my wife, leaving her standing by the bedside bed in bra, panties and tights. She now appeared to have no difficulty in remaining upright.

‘Those tights are a little restrictive,’ said Henry, ‘would you like help to take them off?’ Unlike Don, he apparently felt no need to ask my permission. 

Emily said nothing, but sat back on the bed. Don and Henry sat either side of her again. Henry hooked a thumb into the waist of Emily’s tights. Don looked at me, again I nodded. He copied Henry, looking at each other they began to drag down her tights. When they reached the waist of her wide knickers, Don continued to pull the tights down over them, leaving the knickers undisturbed. Henry paused, hooked his thumb under my wife’s underwear and stared pointed at me. Emily smiled, ‘up to you, honey.’

I nodded silent consent. Emily rose, followed by the two men. I watched as Don pulled my wife’s tights down, leaving her knickers in place, Henry pulled tights and knickers, dragging the black underwear so that Don’s side followed exposing Emily’s neatly trimmed pubic hair, inevitably my cock now swelled to full erection, tight in my underwear. Henry pushed Emily gently back onto the bed, lifting her legs and pulling tights and knickers over her feet. Don stared blatantly between Emily’s legs, swelled pouting vulva, pink folds between glistening like a wet flower; he began to unbutton his trousers. 

I could not expect anything else, my wife was making herself available and there could be no doubt of our mutual consent. My arousal was too powerful for any regret, my jealousy fed the flames. I looked at Emily. She met my gaze, responded by freshly glossing the lips of her open mouth with a wet pink tongue and spreading her knees even wider, opening herself further to Don’s lustful gaze. She closed her eyes and waited.

Don knew that a boundary had been crossed, there was no need to ask permission from this customer, he now thought of me as her pathetic husband. He did not bother to undress, positioning himself between her wide spread knees while dragging his trousers and underpants down far enough to free his cock, his shirt tail just covering his pudgy backside. 

I moved just in time to see the purple tip of his ugly veined cock prodding my wife's delicate pink folds before the view was obscured behind his flapping shirt and glimpses of an obscenely thrusting hairy rump. Henry was at least taking the opportunity to disrobe. Barely lifting my gaze from the copulating pair, I made my way around the bed. 
'I think we may as well get rid of this,' I said to nobody in particular as I crawled onto the bed behind my humping, gasping, wife. I unhooked her bra, pulling the straps so the cups fell away from her breasts. I did not attempt to remove it completely, I didn't want to disturb their fucking and it made her look so much more the slut. But I could not help but risk reaching around her thrusting shoulders to feel the weight of her breasts and gently pinch her swollen nipples. She opened her eyes and met mine, but did not acknowledge me, her wet mouth hung open and she grunted like an animal. I’d never seen her like it, drooling and grunting like the basest whore. For a moment I felt disgust, not at her, but at myself. How could I allow my wife to behave like this, to be used like this? But the moment passed as Don groaned louder, thrust his hips in one final orgasmic jerk that pushed Emily back against me. ‘Fuck,’ I thought, ‘no condom.’ Don fell back, his drooping shining wet cock easily slipping out from my wife's newly adulterous cunt. That's how I thought of it now, her cunt. I'd never used the word to describe her sex, it had always seemed too crude a word to describe my love.

But now she had become a willing adulterous slut and was about to take another strangers cock, it was an appropriate word to use. 

Henry was naked, sporting an erection that put my best to shame, larger than Don’s too, from what I had seen of it. He was scrawny but wiry, pale skinned, even against Emily, who was no sun worshipper herself. He was positioning himself between my wife's legs, his cock oozing a drop of fluid.

‘Wait!’ I said, reaching from behind her, I wrapped my fingers gently around the shaft of his cock, feeling it's turgid form and surprising heat on my palm. It was the first time I had ever touched another cock and it was not as unpleasant an experience as I might have thought, not that I had ever considered touching another man. My own stiff cock released a small surge of warm fluid into my underpants in response. Using his like a paint brush, I spread the fluid around Emily's inner lips and folds before pushing the knob end into her cunt. He pushed his thighs against my hand and I released him as his cock impaled my wife, his slut. For the second time, I fondled Emily’s breasts, pinched and tugged at her nipples as another stranger fucked her.

Don, trousers and underpants discarded beside his stockinged feet, stood watching Henry fucking Emily. His tongue slithered between over-thick lips like a tangle of mating slugs, his busy hands concealed under his shirt. It was clear that he intended making the most of this available woman. 

Henry jerked his hips, the short sharp urgent thrusts of orgasm. I could see that Emily had reached around his lean form, imagined rather than saw that she was tightly clasping the muscly tight buttocks she had lusted after in the restaurant just a few minutes ago. It was hard to believe that she had travelled so far in such a brief time; from a normal loyal wife, to a wanton slut; fucked by two strangers, her husband looking on and even taking part in her blatant adultery. Impatiently Don pushed past a satiated Henry and was quickly humping her again, foreplay was obviously not his forte. I caught his gaze and he grinned with satisfaction, his expression seemed to me to be one of triumph that he, the lowliest employee of the hotel, was fucking a guest’s wife. Henry disappeared into the bathroom, taking his clothes with him. Don grunted and pulled away, leaving my wife to replace him with her fingers. 

While Don pulled on his clothes, I assisted the discarded slut by continuing to fondle her breasts and pull at her nipples as she masturbated. By the time Henry and Don had left, doing so without a second glance and not even closing the door behind them, Emily had reached a silent orgasm. I lowered her to the bed and went to close the door. When I turned back to the room she was snoring softly, her legs still wide apart, her cunt a tangled mess, lips swollen pink around a still gaping, oozing, hole. I stared at this all too tangible evidence of her adultery and my cock stiffened, reminding me that I had not yet cum. I quickly stripped off my clothes, knelt between her knees. The smell of sex was overpowering, I leant forward, hesitant, reluctant, but driven, and licked her once with my tongue flat across the inner lips that circled the hole of her vagina. The taste of cum was as I thought it would be, salty, tangy, mixed with her familiar flavour. I began to lick furiously, frantically, gripping my cock with the same desperate rhythm. She stirred and moaned, I felt her fingers in my hair, gripping and pulling my face tightly into her. I lasted only seconds, pulling my foreskin over my cock to catch the semen. She took only a few seconds longer, her thighs jerking violently, my head gripped between them. 

We saw Henry and Don in the Hotel reception the following morning, but neither reacted or made any reference out of the ordinary. The rest of the weekend passed without incident. Neither Emily nor I referred to the event, in the hotel on the journey home or for the weeks that followed. There were no recriminations, no awkward silences. Our relationship in and out of bed was largely unchanged, though perhaps sex happened a little more often and it may have been my imagination, but it seemed more urgent than before. 

But then came the phone call from the erstwhile owner of the Old Barn.