1. Birthday Boy


    Date: 8/21/2017, Categories: Bisexual, Author: dondave, Source: LushStories

    Like many married men, I was pretty happy during the early years of my marriage. We were very much in love, and everything seemed new and fresh and wonderful -- particularly where sex was concerned. Dana was a lively partner in bed; there wasn’t much I wanted to do that she wasn’t willing to try, and I think she would say the same of me. Not that we were particularly kinky, but we were pretty adventurous about when, where and how we did it. My wife got a serious thrill out of fucking in places where we ran a fair chance of getting caught, and several times we did. But as the years wore on, and kids came, and responsibilities multiplied, our sex life suffered, as it does for so many couples. It was great when we did it, but we didn’t do it often, and after a while I think we were both going through the motions. She didn’t even seem interested in getting caught anymore. For a long I found a way to make my peace with this change. I figured all couples go through it. But I reached a point -- as I guess many people do, both men and women -- where my sexual urges simply weren’t being satisfied. I had always been a frequent masturbator, even when our sex life was at its peak, but now it seemed like I was beating off all the time and enjoying it less and less. I can truthfully say I wasn’t actively looking to stray outside my marriage. But it’s not exactly true to say I was totally resistant to the idea, either. I took more notice of other women than I had in years, and I realized ...
    that some of them had been noticing me, though I had been too dense to see it. One of my wife’s best friends -- married to a guy I grew up with -- came on to me pretty strongly once at a backyard party where pretty much everyone was drunk, pulling me around a dark corner and “accidentally” brushing the front of my jeans with the back of her hand. She turned her face up to mine, pretty much demanding to be kissed. It was only then I realized that she -- Nikki -- had unbuttoned her blouse, that she wasn’t wearing a bra, and that what I had always considered an exceptionally fine pair of tits could be viewed with a very slight movement of my hand. I felt an instant stiffening of my cock and came very close to making that slight movement, but something held me back, and after stammering some stupid excuse I managed to get away. She did not seem offended that I dodged her, and when my wife and I left shortly afterward she gave me a look that said unmistakably, “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.” There were many nights over the next couple of weeks when I fantasized about what might have happened if I hadn’t walked away. Every one of those nights I ended up sneaking off somewhere to beat off at the memory of those tits, barely concealed between the parted front of her blouse. I felt guilty about betraying my wife -- I couldn’t think of another word for it -- but I couldn’t stop doing it, either. About three weeks after the party, just as the fantasies were getting ...
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