We have been married for 30 years, I suppose many would assume we are therefore getting on a bit and, strictly speaking, at least I am… on paper. But what’s in a number? Anyone who knows us will attest we are not old in any way. My wife, H, is about to turn 57 this year and I’m 10 years older, so I married relatively late.

No one thought it would last, we’d been together less than a year after meeting whilst at the end of other relationships. We both had a bit of a reputation for being ‘energetically sociable’, shall we say!

So, having had around seven years of utterly conventional marriage with a couple of house moves, the arrival of our daughter and some great friendships and adventures, a lot of work and a lack of money, we’d finally found ourselves living in the leafy southeast in a beautiful cottage, with a beautiful life and a beautiful car…. Sounding like a Talking Heads song isn’t it! I probably did ask myself “how did I get here?”.

Then, when a couple who we’d first met at ante natal classes, whose daughter was born on the same day as ours, and with whom we’d remained firm friends, came to visit, we ended up having a swap. He, W, had been fantasising about it and suggested we give it a try - I was really excited and having had seven years of convention, a little bit shocked, nevertheless I was very enthusiastic and over dinner, we started to get a bit fruity, literally at one stage as we played a game which involved passing a chocolate covered strawberry between our respective partners without using hands. The sweet kisses which ensued soon lead to us disappearing with each others wives to separate rooms and fucking.

None of us had ever played around in a situation like that before and I found it incredibly exciting, especially when I went downstairs to get a drink leaving S, W’s wife, in the bed and found W between my wife’s legs, pounding his hips against hers - I stood at the door and watched as his hips thrust into hers and he exploded his cum into my wife.

Later, when we each returned to actually go to sleep with our own partners, I went down between her legs and cleaned her cum-filled pussy, tasting his spunk mixed with my wife’s lovely juices was one of the most erotic moments of my life and flipped a switch in me which has never been fully switched off.

When I discovered a couple of years later that the freedom of spirit this new relationship had unleashed was even more in my wife’s head than mine, I was initially shocked. I happened upon a message that appeared on the screen of H’s phone and it was immediately clear she was having an affair. Not with W, though we’d all had various encounters with each other after that first night, but with someone quite new.

H worked away from home a lot with a global role in a bank, and attended all kinds of events, often with much the same colleagues, and often meeting new people, obviously. I’d heard from her about some of the fun they’d have including the kind of drunken dare games that can happen in your thirties. Streaking around the conference hotel car park in your underwear in the middle of the night must seem like a great idea at times like that!

As did fucking G, a guy who had been working in the same area of business, but not in the same company. I waited for a good time to confront H about this new discovery, but before I did that I knew that she’d met up with him a couple of times whilst away on her trips, and each time she did that, when she returned our sex was better than ever. She felt oddly different, more lithe. Energised. I reveled in her touch, her body felt alive, and the knowledge that I was fucking her only a few hours after his cock had been inside her made me crazy with desire.

Her enthusiasm and love for me was never in doubt, I never felt she was conflicted by loyalty, she was clearly loving the feeling of being fucked by two men who adored her in different ways, especially if it was by both of us on the same day.

So, when I said to her whilst we were away on a trip in South Africa, on a small safari, that I knew her secret, she was a little taken aback… but, thankfully, didn’t try to deny it. Secrets are OK in my book, lying isn’t the best way to go generally. We talked it over and I told her that it was fine - whatever it was going on, it had such a positive effect on our relationship that I couldn’t see why it should have to stop.

And, to make life even spicier, H suggested I might want to find myself a lover. At about this time she also decided she wanted to celebrate her 40th and her liberated lifestyle with her first tattoo. I designed a butterfly which alighted on her bum and remains there to this day.

She would go and stay one night a week with G at his apartment (he was also in a relationship with two kids but worked near London a lot so had a weekday flat plus a home with the family).

And I happened to strike up a friendship with one of the Mums at out daughter’s school. We’d also see each other at the gym during the day and one day I asked if she’d like to come ‘round for some lunch. I won’t go into all the details but the lunch went rather well and the kitchen table became the opening scene of an affair which lasted many years.

OK, so you want to know… I cooked an amazing lunch, three courses, nice wine, it was a weekday, the kids were at school, it was sunny and the conversation had become ‘playful’. I told her I loved the fact that I often glimpsed the tiniest hint of lacy thong above the waist band of her white, tight jeans, and that I liked to guess what colour it would be each day. She asked what colour it was today then, and I lied (sometimes it’s ok!) I didn’t know, yet. A few moments later a couple of things had been pushed off the kitchen table, stiletto mules kicked off and the tight white jeans were being peeled off to reveal the tiniest lilac coloured piece of Lejaby lace ever to be pulled aside for my cock to slip between her slim, dancer’s thighs.

So began an arrangement, and an affair, that lasted for ten years. H would stay at G’s and F would come and fuck me whenever we had the chance, often staying the night, her husband was convinced she was visiting her girlfriend. Her car was squirreled away in my garage in a pathetic attempt to conceal our activity from the neighbours. It was intense, sometimes we’d fuck in the steam room at the gym, once she came to the house, climbed onto my sofa and lowered herself onto me, and we fucked standing up in my living room whilst H was having her haircut a couple of miles away,

Now you’ve had the salacious bit, hope it entertained. It is true, every word, I promise.

Both affairs eventually ended - mine because F fell in love with me and it was becoming ever more complicated, and H’s because he moved to a job in the Far East.

Fast forward a bit, she’s had a few flings which she thought I didn’t know about, and I have had a few temptations too, and we have swung with another couple who are great friends (though sadly their marriage didn’t last, for other reasons), but we are always each other’s best friends, we do everything (else) together. I can’t imagine, neither can H, us not being together. However, with the various pressures of work, moving to another country during the pandemic, weight gain etc. we lost our mojo a bit. We still had great fun, but sex was a rare and usually cursory thing.

Until recently. H suddenly decided to get fit, personal trainer, running, no carbs. And her touch has become sensual again, our sex life has exploded back into, well, life.

And now, here I am writing this early in the morning. H has gone to the airport on a short business trip primarily, and has managed to fit in a lunch and a hotel room which will perk things up a bit. You see, G is back. Those pesky text banners on the iPhone gave her away just before Christmas when his initials came up and I asked who it was. She brushed it away, saying it was our daughter - I knew immediately. He’s been back in the scene (work) for a while and his name has been popping up more often, but suddenly it became clear there was a fire smoldering away again. The weird thing is, it turns me on!

Just before Christmas, after I found out, I sent her a text whilst she was at the airport on her way to a party which G would also be attending. When I said I was onto her she admitted it without trying to wriggle. I wrote her a long email which basically said that I think the butterfly on her butt is perfect, she’s flamboyant, free and flighty, and every now and then she needs to alight on a new flower, it’s how she stays invigorated. I feel secure in our relationship, that her new found self esteem (physical, she’s never been short of any other kind of self-esteem), her vigour and enthusiasm has returned and it’s partly down to G. I have told her it’s not a problem and that she should continue to see him occasionally. I don’t necessarily want to know all the details but equally I don’t want her having to expend energy covering her tracks, worrying I’ll discover her peccadilloes. She has told me that she will see less of him soon because he has a new job and is moving away again, but it’s all fine with me.

As she left for the airport today she gave me a knowing smile. She knows I know, and she’s going to tell G I know, and that I’m ok with it, and he will find it hard to understand. I don’t mind whether he understands or not, he’s a good guy and he treats her with respect, and he’s very different to me.

And I have asked her to send me a photo of her in the hotel room mirror, in her lingerie. I don’t know if she’ll do a selfie, or if she’ll get ‘someone’ to take it for her.

What I do know is that when she gets home tomorrow night I will want to have a full ‘de-brief’

UPDATE: She sent me the selfie in the mirror before going out in her date. It’s beautiful, and it shows the butterfly nestled between the lacy strings of her knickers. She looks happy, unashamed and tantalizing. He is going to have a great evening tonight with my wife and I love that.