No, go to a bar

I am walking down the road, stealing glances at my wife. She is sexy, confident and clearly enjoying this game we are playing. She has the most sensual face. There is something about the combination of her lips, eyes and hair that makes her look, in my eyes, the sheer essence of sexuality. Simply, I adore her. And whilst I am confused by this game we are playing, if I am honest I am enjoying it, although I am struggling with the challenge it poses my fragile male ego. But I feel, somewhere inside me, that the price is worth it to get this level of sexual attention directed at me. Because although she is interacting with other men, I know she is doing this for me, and that it is an expression of our love. It feels like the most loving thing she has ever done.

As I am thinking all this (it takes time to arrange my confused emotions and thoughts) we have walked some way, and we now approach a small bar that I have not been in before. As we approach my wife says instructs me to wait ten minutes before I come in and then to sit at a table and pretend I don't know her.

Oh come on, not again!! I know she is just proving the point by flirting with a guy again. I now know how this will feel. I wait on the street corner, kicking my heels, angry, confused by my feelings, and to my dismay, horny. My mind has plenty of time to think about what could be happening in the bar. I imagine Helen being fucked in the toilets, bent over a table, and a whole range of fantastical and agonising sexual encounters. By head spins at the thought, I can't stop the images in my head and my hands repeatedly clench and unclench in impotent frustration.

Eventually the ten minutes are up and I enter the bar. The interior is dimly lit by artificial light. It is what is sometimes termed female friendly with lots of stainless steel, light pine, racks of wine behind the long bar, and there in the middle is my wife, looking beautiful, with a guy talking to her. They are talking in low voices but their body language is attentive, leaning in, Helen is being flirtatious, flicking hair, making eye contact, laughing coquettishly. There is no mistaking the signals she is sending out, and the smartly dressed black man talking to her is certainly on the same wavelength.

Without getting too close, I get a beer and take it to a table where I can see what is going on. I can't hear anything, but the body language continues. There is contact, nothing too intimate - touching a knee here, a shoulder there. I watch and slowly, ever so slowly, find a sort of peace with this. Helen takes out her phone and texts

My phone beeps Do you think he's sexy? Do you think he has a big cock?

Oh fuck, thrown off balance, typing back: No, can we just go?

I see her looking at her phone , then texting, sms arrives If you don't play, I will take him to the nearest hotel and FUCK HIM - now answer!

He is attractive, and yes he probably has got a big cock She is flirting with him outrageously in between the texts. He leans in to kiss her, she lets him, they kiss deeper and his hand is moving up her leg

He's just asked my to come back to his apartment. Shall I?

No! Definitely not

Tell me the dirtiest hotwife fantasy you can think of

You getting fucked and I lick out the cream pie She is now leaning in an stroking his thigh. They are kissing deeply. I'm sweating...

Boring! I am going to go get fucked now

Fuck, fuck, fuck!!! I haven't even fantasised about cuckold until the other night with that fucking video. And now you want me to come up with a fucking fantasy to order... fuck! Need to come up with something worthy...

Texting furiously... they are getting up from their stools... shit shit... send...

We are with another couple's house. We are all drunk and someone suggests strip Twister. Soon we are naked and I am pinned on the bottom with you all above me. Your pussy is above my head when the other guy spins. The move puts his cock next to your pussy. You are also pinned but I can see you smiling. I have to watch as he moves his cock into your pussy and fucks you. When he comes, the cum dribbles into my mouth and I have to drink it.

I don't know where that came from. As they are walking to the door her phone beeps, she pauses, reads the message, glances towards me and then walks through the door.

I still feel agony and frustration, humiliation and eroticism. Is she going with him? I am frantic as I hurry towards the door.