Author’s Note:

This story is written from my perspective as a straight man. I hope it’s not alienating for female readers. This one is pretty filthy, but I hope it also contains some moments of real emotion and possibly some wisdom. Although I submitted this in the Erotic Couplings category, it does contain some MMF threesome elements. I chose Erotic Couplings because I thought it best represented what this story is to me. This is primarily a story about my relationship with one woman.

I choose not to use an editor for my writing. I feel more comfortable editing myself as carefully as I can, but I’m not a professional writer and apologize if I’ve missed something.

As always, I welcome feedback. And truly, thank you for reading.

….

I was just another middle aged married man. I had a good job, a family, a comfortable home, friends, hobbies, and all the typical trappings of a bourgeois middle class life. I was predominately comfortable, and dying inside. My marriage had always been pragmatically companionate. Over the past twelve years it had become vexingly dispassionate. I hated myself for wanting more, but also for accepting this deeply unsatisfying compromise. On one hand, I felt like I was betraying myself. On the other, I felt I was naive to expect life to be more passionate.

Even casting aside my yearning for Romance, understanding, intimacy, and some amorphous idea I had about deep connection, I was still left with base sexual desire that I couldn’t fulfill. I wanted more. I wanted filthy erotic experiences that I knew I’d never have.

Sex had become a routine, once-a-month, checklist item. I’m tempted to feel I was complicit in this, and maybe I was, but I have to at least acknowledge that I tried. I made an effort. I sent my Wife text messages ranging from sweet and romantic to downright filthy. I asked difficult questions about her fantasies. I introduced toys. I set the scene for her many times. I did everything I could think of to generate some sort of sexual excitement and mystery in our relationship. Sometimes it helped over the short term, but never affected any lasting change. If she was bored with me, then it wasn’t exclusively my own failing. But it’s hard not to feel like a failure when your partner doesn’t want you.

At some point I guess I gave up. I felt ashamed of myself, but the prospect of initiating a painful divorce that would devastate my family was too heavy a burden. And nobody would understand. How could I break up a successful family simply because I didn’t feel wanted enough? I felt like I was asking too much. So I gave up and pretended to be content like everyone expected me to be.

One Saturday evening, after the kids were in bed, I decided to go out alone for a drink. This wasn’t unusual for me. I had a favorite bar. The bartenders knew me by name and at least pretended to enjoy talking to me. They felt like friends, but that’s also probably their job. In any case, I never worried about making plans to meet other friends at the bar. I knew most of the bar’s regulars and there was never a shortage of conversation. And if I wanted to enjoy a drink in solitude I could easily do that too.

When I entered the bar, both bartenders looked up and yelled my name loudly, waving and smiling as they often did to acknowledge my arrival. Several people at tables scattered around the bar looked up to see what exciting thing had just happened, then returned to their conversations realizing they didn’t know me.

As I approached the bar I noticed a table of women in the back corner. One woman was still watching me. I immediately recognized her. Her name was Julia. She had been my colleague for three years before she left to pursue other things. I adored Julia. She was funny, assertive, intellectually curious, and kind. She was a little spark plug; a gorgeous petite woman outsized by her beguiling personality. Physically, she was small – I guessed barely taller than five feet. She had long dark curly hair, and large espresso eyes. She wasn’t stick-thin, but not exactly voluptuous. Many people might have called her average, but honestly I didn’t think much about her body, because her personality and expressive face were so overwhelmingly attractive that it rendered everything else about her irrelevant.

I hadn’t seen Julia in over a year. I was excited to talk to her, but didn’t want to interrupt her conversation with her friends. We locked eyes smiling as I took a seat at the bar across the room from her table. She cocked her head at me and winked, raising her glass and taking a sip. I waved back casually, then turned toward the bartender.

I ordered a drink and made light conversation with one of the bartenders for a bit. I couldn’t help glancing over at Julia’s table frequently. Sometimes I’d find her interacting with her friends, her head thrown back in laughter or leaning in like she was sharing a secret. Other times I’d find her staring back at me boldly. She wore her confidence and overt sexuality on her sleeve. I admired her Free spirit. I rededicated myself to keeping my eyes away from her table with momentary success.

“Tap tap.” – she tapped me on the shoulder, verbalizing the act simultaneously. “Hello there, stranger!” She beamed at me. She leaned on the bar between me and another patron, obviously not concerned about invading anyone’s personal space. “How are you?!” She asked throwing her arms around me.

“I’m great! How are you?” I replied, returning her friendly hug.

“I’m fantastic! Look at you, in your leather jacket and tight jeans. You look great, you fucking stud.”

Julia and I had always been perhaps slightly too flirtatious. We dismissed it as humor, but it belied a real undercurrent of sexual tension between us. There was no doubt from my perspective. I thought Julia was among the sexiest women I’d ever known. Maybe she didn’t experience it the same way, but she was a forbidden fantasy for me. I never turned up the heat, but the pilot light was always on. Just the sound of her voice aroused me.

“You’re still devastatingly beautiful,” I said trying to act cool and detached before taking a sip of my drink. She caught my poorly hidden sincerity.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, forcing me to hold eye contact. “Are you here alone?” She asked. “Are you meeting someone..?” She fished for a juicy detail.

“Ha ha. No. I’m alone. Jen’s at home.”

“Oh, glad to hear you’re still being a good boy,” she joked.

“Where’s Rick?” I asked. Rick was Julia’s husband – her “partner” as she called him. I’d met him a few times in the past. I found him to be intelligent and likable, but didn’t know him well. He and Julia seemed very happy together. They didn’t have kids and I got the impression they had a somewhat freewheeling lifestyle. They were both a few years younger than I. Julia in particular struck me as a feminist. I liked that about her. I even liked the fact that she didn’t shave her underarms, despite her tendency to dress nicely and wear makeup. She was very different from my Wife, who conformed rigidly to more conservative beauty standards. Julia did whatever the fuck she wanted, and I had a real weakness for that attitude.

“Who the fuck knows where Rick is? I ditched him to hang out with my girls,” she said rolling her large eyes dramatically before cracking another smile. “We’re actually leaving for this other thing, but I had to say hi before my friends dragged me out of here.”

“I’m glad you could spare a moment in your busy social schedule,” I teased.

“Fuck off. Give me your number!”

I recited my number slowly while she tapped it into her phone. Moments later my phone vibrated with a text from her.

It read: Julia [kiss emoji]

“Did you get it?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“Let’s chat and catch up soon?”

“Sure. I’d Love to.”

With that her gaggle of friends swept her away and they vanished into the night leaving me sitting alone at the bar as I’d become accustomed to doing.

I didn’t hear from Julia again that night, nor the following day. I considered texting her, but convinced myself she’d just been making a polite gesture by saying she wanted to catch up. I put it out of my mind and focused on the daily routines of my workweek.

Monday night, quite late, I felt my phone buzz.

Julia: You up??

Me: Ha!

My Wife had already gone to bed and I was reading on the sofa. I was thrilled she texted me. It felt strangely exciting to get a late text from a woman, even though I knew it was just Julia’s style of humor to make it seem sexual. Still, even the hint of having some kind of new romantic interest in my life felt electrifying, and simultaneously a bit pathetic. How juvenile and desperate was I?

Julia: What are you wearing?

Me: Nothing but a smile now

Julia: [surprised emoji] Ooh, la la

Me: Haha

Julia: Am I interrupting anything..,?

Me: Definitely not…

Julia: Okay cool. It was so great to see you! Sorry I couldn’t hang!

Me: You too. I understand. But I’m really glad we ran into each other. Honestly, I’ve missed you.

Julia: I’ve missed you too!

We chatted for two hours until it was extremely late. Sleep became an urgent priority and we were forced to say good night. Julia texted me again the following night, and the night after. This went on for weeks. I found myself making excuses to stay up late. I had work to complete, or an unfinished piece of art, a game to watch, or some other project. Any excuse would do. Invariably my phone would vibrate between 10:30 PM and 11:00 PM with a new message from Julia, which would prompt another long conversation. I walked around with my phone in my pocket feeling like I was carrying a secret. There was nothing particular about our conversations that crossed the line, but my heart told me I’d crossed the line. The fact that I kept the extent of our correspondence secret was evidence of that.

As time went on our chats became more intimate. Ironic flirting became earnest words of appreciation and desire. Eventually Julia very intuitively asked me about my marriage.

Julia: So are you happy?

Me: Yes, of course

Julia: Happy with Jen?

Me: It’s not terrible

Julia: But not great…

Me: To be real, things are cold. Probably just the normal ups and downs of any marriage?

Julia: You don’t fuck anymore?

Me: Very rarely

Julia: Interesting. I’m sorry if I’m being nosey

Me: It’s fine. I don’t actually have anyone to talk to about it. I’m kind of glad you asked, but I don’t want to TMI you.

Julia: Haha you can’t TMI me. You have no idea.

Me: Oh really??

Julia: So you must jerk off a lot huh?

Me: Ouch. Define “a lot”?

Julia: By yourself?

Me: What?? Am I doing it wrong?

Julia: You could jerk off with a friend

Me: Haha

Julia: I’m your friend…

That text send a shock through my system. Was she actually implying what I thought? I read back through our messages several times before responding carefully.

Me: Yes, you are my friend. Are you saying you want to jerk off with me?

Julia: So… What are you wearing?

“Fuck!” I thought. I might have said it aloud. I immediately felt an erection growing in my pants. What was I wearing?

Me: Sweatpants

Julia: Oooooh! Easy access

I was sitting alone on the couch in our basement game room watching TV. Without conscious effort my hand was already moving over the bulge in my sweatpants. My Wife would never have engaged with me this way.

Julia: Are you touching yourself yet?

Me: Yes

There was no point in denying it. Julia clearly knew what she was doing. I didn’t stop to think about whether this could be considered cheating. I embraced the grey area for the sake of my own excitement without deeper assessment.

Julia: Mmm, so am I. Do you want to see?

Me: Fuck. Yes.

I waited nervously, unsure what to expect. I had my hand inside my pants now. I slid my palm down the length of my cock then reached down to cradle my balls. They felt swollen and heavy. I wrapped my fingers around my erect cock, feeling it’s familiar girth filling my hand. I gave it a few slow pumps then ran my thumb over my smooth swollen head feeling the wetness of precum that accompanied my arousal.

My phone buzzed. It was a photo message from Julia. I won’t lie and say it was a great photo. It was dimly lit and slightly grainy, but that didn’t diminish its effect on me. It was a closeup. She was unshaven. Her bright pink labia swollen and glistening, framed by a thick mat of dark pubic hair. Her finger was on her clit, nudging it to one side. Everything about it was filthy and exciting to me. Even her pink nail polish and delicate finger were sexy.

I groaned audibly and pumped my cock faster.

Me: Jesus Christ, Julia

Julia: Do you like it?

Me: It makes me wish I could taste you

A minute went by with no response. Then my phone buzzed again. It was another pic. This time it was Julia’s face, her glossy lips wrapped around her her middle finger.

Julia: Tasting myself for you

Me: Fuck

Julia: Now it’s your turn to show me…

Me: Give me a sec

I panicked a little. Nobody had ever asked me for a pic before. Everything I’d ever heard about dick pics indicated they were disgusting and that women hated them. What should I do? I pulled my pants down so that I could assess myself. I watched my hand gliding up and down my hard shaft, then an idea surfaced. I let go of my cock and pulled my sweatpants back up. I placed my hand on my leg. My hand looked nice. It was strong and vascular, but not coarse or dirty. It seemed an apt proxy for my cock. It was more inviting and less entitled. I took a few photos of my hand on my thigh with the outline of my erection visible underneath my pants, stretching down the inside of my leg parallel to my fingers. I picked the best photo and quickly edited the exposure and contrast, then sent it before I could overthink it even more.

Julia: Fuck, that’s Hot! Mmm, I’m imagining your big strong hands touching me. And I see something else that looks big and strong…

Me: Do you?

Julia: Why don’t you pull those pants down and show me

Me: You want to see my cock?

Julia: Mmm, fuck yes

Fuck. This was now a request for a dick pic in no uncertain terms. I stood and dropped my pants. It was surprisingly thrilling to look at myself knowing I was going to show Julia my body. I held my phone to the side in selfie mode so I could see the screen. I let my extremely hard erection stand on its own, dropping my hand to my side. I made sure there was nothing untoward looming in the background and snapped the photo. It felt filthy. I sent the photo anyway.

Julia: Mm, fuck! I’m so Hot for you right now. I want to wrap my mouth around that big hard cock

Me: Mmm, Julia. I’m stroking my cock imagining I’m licking your Hot little clit

Julia: You want to see what I’d do with you?

Me: Mmm, show me, baby

A few minutes went by with no response from Julia. I waited patiently, stroking myself and bringing myself to the edge, imagining her touching herself and taking photos.

The next photo that appeared exceeded my wildest expectations. It was another closeup, but this time the lighting was better. Her finger was no longer on her clit. Instead there was an enormous flesh colored dildo poised at her entrance. It was easily ten inches long and nearly as thick as her wrist, its massive head stuffed between her lips spreading her lewdly.

Julia: Do you think it will fit?? [wink emoji]

Me: Fuck

Another pic buzzed through. This was the same as before, but now her giant toy was deep inside her leaving only a couple spare inches of shaft and its fake balls visible.

Julia: It’s so deep, baby

Me: Mmm, fuck, Julia. Are you going to cum on that big cock for me?

Julia: I’d rather cum on your big cock. Are you going to cum for me too?

Me: Mmm, yes

Julia: Tell me what you want to do to me

Me: I want to fuck your Hot little Pussy until you cum all over my cock

Julia: MMM! I’m so close…

Me: Then I want to pull my dripping cock from your Pussy and make you taste yourself on me

Julia: Oh fuck Cumming

Me: Mmm, fuck yes, baby. Cum for me

I waited for a response. There was a long pause. Finally she replied.

Julia: I just came so fucking hard

Me: Mmm, good

Julia: Did you cum yet?

Me: I’m very close

Julia: Maybe this will help…

Another pic popped up. She was holding her dildo to her mouth, her lips stretched wide around its head, barely able to accommodate its size.

Julia: Is this what you wanted to do to me?

Me: Oh fuck, Julia. I’m going to cum

Julia: Mmm yes, baby. I want you to cum in my mouth

I pumped my cock desperately. I was past the point of no return. I hadn’t prepared. I didn’t have a towel or any tissue nearby. The only thing I could think to do was pull my sweatpants back up over my knees before I grunted, spewing my thick white semen all over them. I collapsed backward on the couch, my lap strewn with shots of cum, cock still convulsing and the last pulses of my Hot pleasure rolling slowly down the back of my hand.

Me: Julia. Jesus Christ!

Julia: Mmm, that was so fun!

Me: Give me a minute to clean up

Julia: Take your time, baby

Luckily our laundry room was in our basement. I washed up and toweled off. Then I dug fresh clothes out of the drier and changed out of my cum soaked pants. I returned to the couch and continued chatting with Julia.

Me: Julia?

Julia: Yes?

Me: Will you tell me about your marriage? Do you have an open relationship?

Julia: I do what I want

Me: So does that mean you sleep with other people?

Julia: I haven’t, no

Me: But you have permission?

Julia: I don’t think he’d care. He doesn’t get jealous

Me: I see. Does he see others?

Julia: No. It’s sort of a one way thing. He doesn’t want to fuck other women. I’m guessing you don’t have permission?

Me: Definitely not

Julia: I figured

Me: So I guess I still don’t completely understand the deal with your husband

Julia: Here’s the thing… you can’t tell anyone this

Me: Okay

Julia: He thinks he has a small dick, and he likes to fantasize about watching me fuck guys with big dicks… That’s the only reason I have that giant toy. It’s actually quite inconvenient. It takes a lot of preparation to use it.

Me: Ah. That makes sense. Does his fantasy bother you?

Julia: No! I kind of Love it…

Me: But you’ve never done it in reality?

Julia: No. Are you offering?? [wink emoji]

Me: Haha, I don’t think I’d live up to your fantasy

Julia: What??

Me: I don’t have a big cock

Julia: Yes you do!!

I suspected all of Julia’s big dick talk was for erotic effect. When she said something about my “big cock” earlier I assumed it was just playful exaggeration. Like any man with a penis, I had measured. It’s embarrassing to admit, but we all measure at some point. I knew that I was actually a bit above average, but not as big as many Porn actors, and certainly smaller than her toy. This is not to disparage my own body. But I thought Julia probably just liked it because it was mine, the way I loved her body simply because it was hers.

Me: Well I guess it would be stupid to argue?

Julia: It’s big to me. Compared to what I’m used to it’s VERY big. But I wouldn’t care if it was small. Do you care that I have small tits?

Me: Of course not. I Love your breasts. I Love your whole body

Julia: Exactly. That’s how I feel about you and your big ol’ cock

Me: Haha. Well thank you

Julia: So would you be open to something like that?

Me: You mean your husband watching?

Julia: Yeah

Me: Yes

Julia: Fuck, really??

Me: I think so

Julia: That’s so Hot

Julia: Is it okay if I ask him?

Me: Yes

Julia: Sweet dreams! [kiss emoji]

I could barely believe I offered myself up this way, but my response was sincere. I was okay with it – mostly. I wanted to be with Julia physically, not just on the phone. I wanted to worship her body and make her cum. I wanted feel and taste her. I wanted to know the reality of her. But also the idea of helping her fulfill a fantasy made me feel good. I felt special to be selected for this intimate gift. It seemed like the kind of thing that required a considerate partner who could respect boundaries. It required trust and compassion. I felt honored that Julia thought I met her needs.