Wife cheats in front of her husband

I picked out a pair of spike high heels to go with my short skirt and checked my makeup in the mirror. My “date” was supposed to arrive at my house soon and since this was the first time we’d have sex, I wanted to look especially good. My husband looked at me when I came down stairs and said, “Wow, Hon, you look amazingly hot,” then kissed me. “Have a good time.”

I smiled and turned allowing him to admire the view of me in the revealing outfit and replied, “I always do. You’ll see me in less than an hour.”

I’ve been playing this game most Saturday nights for the last couple of years. I’m a 35-year-old married woman, and I enjoy finding mostly younger men for a good fuck. I don’t call what I do cheating, but I suppose if any neighbors knew what was going on, they’d have a different opinion.

Why don’t I call this a cheat? Because my husband knows and encourages me.

It started a couple of years ago. When I first married Jason, we were in our early twenties. He was always begging for sex. We fucked five to six times a week, but he easily could have gone more. As we went over the next dozen years, his sex drive decreased and mine increased. For a decade, we mostly matched in our mutual interest for intercourse. However, as time when on, my need for sex continued to increase as his drive waned. It’s simply one of nature’s cruel fuck ups between the sexes. Men as they age, want less sex, while women want more.

What really got the ball rolling on this arrangement was the day my husband came home early from work and caught me enjoying sex. It wasn’t with another man, but with my vibrator. I was lying on the bed, completely naked and pressing the stimulator next to my clitoris with my legs spread wide apart near the edge of a powerful orgasm, when he unexpectedly walked into the room. I must have been so engrossed in the solo sex play; I didn’t hear him drive into the garage or even call my name.

“Oh, Francesca, I am sorry,” he said as his face reddened from embarrassment.

“What the fuck are you doing home now?” I was pissed. Not only had he killed a really good climax, but he turned to leave. Only a few years before, he’d have been on top of me and ramming his cock into my wet cooter in a split second, if he’d found me that way. Now he was retreating to the living room to let me finish on my own?

It wasn’t the first time he’d walked in on me masturbating, but now he was just walking away. I felt hurt.

I tossed on a robe and went out to confront him. “Do you not find me attractive anymore?”

“No, it isn’t that at all. You look hotter now that the day we married.”

Without wanting to sound too arrogant, he was right. I was a professional ballerina from the age of 16 until I was 22, and I’ve maintained an athletic build with a zero body-fat figure. I was fond of saying ballerinas have the same eating disorders as professional models, but with twice the attitude.

Since retiring from the stage, I’d opened a fitness and dance center and was in better shape than when I was twenty. On average, from conducting classes and individual training, I work out two hours a day. Friends have told me I look around twenty-five and I still get carded at bars and restaurants.

Since I’ve been encouraged to describe my appearance, even though it seems egotistical, I can say that I’m tall and slender, but since my retirement from professional dancing, I’ve managed to take up a practical diet that has added a few nice curves to my figure. My face is also slender, and I have a well-defined and symmetrical cheek bone structure, with no discernable wrinkles.

By :Krystal0690

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