Like most people on here, I’ve long fantasised about my wife being unfaithful. We have been married 40 years this year and, in all that time, she has always been adamant she has never strayed. I cannot say the same, though I’ve been very far from a serial philanderer. Our sex life has always been good and remains so, with a big part of it being fantasy. Often in bed I will whisper some fantasy, that nearly always involves her being an outrageous slut, and we both get off on it in a big way. When we talk about it, away from the heat of the moment, she’s always been adamant that it’s fantasy only and she’s no interest in trying it out. Over lock down though, we have found a way of including infidelity in our sex life and it has been blowing my mind. As we’ve got older, and less spontaneous, a fixture of our sex life is now booked “us time” usually involving a bit to drink before hand, and a porno movie during. These are really good sessions. We have a meal with wine (usually lunch, we’re both retired), lots of innuendo, then we go up to bed and put on a porno. Sometimes she reads a porno book, which seems to turn her on more. We lie next to each other, making comments on the book, or the film, and gently masturbating, ourselves and each other. I may lean over and lick her for a while, while she reads, or she gives me a good suck with one eye on the film. Over 40 years of marriage, there have inevitably been times when I’ve started to hear too much about one of her work colleagues, or found out about a drink with an old boyfriend, or whatever, and become suspicious. In the early days I was a very jealous man. No doubt had she confessed to anything, that might have been the end of the marriage, or at very least the source of a big blow up. Still, all these years on, we occasionally talk about these long-held suspicions. She always denies them, convincingly. We had a discussion about them again recently and, as I have many times before, I tried to explain that my jealousy has morphed into a weird, undoubtedly masochistic, source of sexual excitement. I’m not digging to find out I’ve been cuckolded, and be angry, but to get off on it. So yesterday we had some “us time”. The porno was a Marc Dorcel about a swingers orgy and we both got into it well. We’d also had a bottle of wine each, which obviously loosens everything up nicely. I’ve been tremendously fortunate that drink has never stopped performance but often does make it impossible to cum. That, of course, means you can spend a very long time trying. On this occasion we’d got to the fucking stage. She was magnificently wet and as we got into our rhythm I whispered “do you want a fantasy?” The answer is almost always yes but, on this occasion, she looked right back and said “do you want a confession?” I’m interested to know, from those of you who have been lucky enough to witness your wives fucking other people, is the reaction really strongly physical? As soon as she said it, my stomach started a sort of butterfly churning and my breathing got quicker – real classic “fight or flight” stuff. If I’m honest, the feeling isn’t altogether pleasant but is strangely addictive. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve wanked, when she’s been out with the girls, about her possible doings, and it’s always accompanied by this strange feeling of stress, which really heightens the sexuality. “Christ, yes” I said. I thought my cock was already hard, but could feel it stiffening further inside her. She could absolutely see, in my face, what it was doing to me and took her time. “Remember Cornwall?” It took me a moment to place, because this was actually before we got married. I’d gone hitchhiking in the US one summer and, poor student nurse that she was, she’d accepted an invite to go with her family on holiday in Cornwall. I had given her the third degree about it when she got back and she’d confessed she’d flirted badly with two of the guys who worked at the hotel. One had actually sent her a present, which is how I found out, hence the third degree. She confessed that one had eventually taken her out and stopped his car on the way back for some heavy petting. She’s always denied anything further happened, though hinted that he’d been unable to get it up. She’s stuck to that story for 40 years. Looking at me, she spread her legs a bit wider and kind of breathed “you’re going to enjoy this”. “You remember the one guy that took me out to the pub, well we did stop on the way back. It was on the last night and we were leaving first thing, I thought fuck it why not. You’d been away for weeks, I’d had a few drinks, and I was as horny as hell. Once we started snogging, I could tell he was a bit hesitant, so I unzipped him and went straight down on him. He was shocked and it took me a bit of doing to get him hard. Eventually he was stiff enough and I was so fucking horny, I just clambered over the gear stick, pulled my knickers to one side, and slid down on him”. At this point my heart was pumping blood into my cock so fast, I thought it was going to burst. She kind of smirked at me and put her hands under her knees to pull them both up. I sank a little bit deeper into her, hardly daring a few strokes as, wine or no wine, I’d have shot my load there and then. “Do you know what the bastard did?”, she said. We really were locked, eye ball to eyeball, now and I all could do was shake my head. “The fucker shot his load after about two strokes.” She laughed at my obvious disappointment “you didn’t want that story to end did you?” she giggled. I grinned back, admitted I didn’t, and gave her a few good hard stokes to show there were no hard feelings. “Well it hasn’t yet” she said, and wriggled her hips, a bit before saying “I was too fucking horny to stop there. He was clearly useless, so I made him take me straight back to the hotel. As soon as we got there I went and found the other guy I’d been flirting with. This was about 11.45 and he knocked off at midnight. He understood exactly what I meant when I told him it was my last night and by ten past twelve we were in his room.” I confess I was a bit shocked at this. “Christ, you slut” I said. “That was it”, she said, “I felt like a total slut, but miles from home and nobody to know, just went with it. I’d tried to clean up from useless guy a bit, but by the time we were rolling about on the bed naked, the fact I’d a load seeping out of my pussy just made me hornier. He went down on me. I’ve no idea to this day whether he could taste it or not, but I rubbed my twat all over his face. I told him I needed fucking and boy did he fuck me. Straight in, hard and fast he absolutely pounded me. Do you remember it was years before I’d wank in front of you? Well as soon as this boy was in, I was rubbing my clit like a fiend, I remember him levering himself up to look as he nailed me.” By this time, I was beside myself and pounding her hard. She closed her eyes and clearly went off into her memory gasping “yeah like that, he did me twice, three fucking loads in one night, do me you bastard”. I’ve never actually witnessed a squirt, but in about half a dozen of our hotter sessions, I guess she’s squirted. It’s just that suddenly everything is soaked. I’m not talking about a big wet patch. It’s sheets drenched like somebody’s poured water on them, body slippy from navel to knees, like she’d just wet herself but no urine smell, pure pussy juice. Every time it’s happened, I’ve pulled out and gone down on her because it’s so fucking hot. This time I couldn’t stop, it just took me straight over the edge and I blew the top off my cock inside her. She’s often a bit noisy when she comes, but the level of noise she made as she came was off the scale. So now, as I sit here the next day, what next? It was mind blowing, we did it again yesterday, with lots more detail about both of them, and once this morning. I’m typing one handed because the other’s rubbing my soft, but leaking, cock. She won’t even tell me whether there is more to tell, but hints there might be, “the next time she’s in the mood.” Oh fuck!