This a is a memoir of how I remember the events combined with details from my wife's diary during those years.

It all started before her forty-third birthday. We had been married nineteen years, and she was still as beautiful and sexy as when we were married. Her name is Hope.

Hope said to me at the breakfast table one Saturday morning, "Have you heard of the 'Wild Oaks Project'?"

"I said, "Can't say that I have. What is it?"

"There's this California woman, Robin, who is about our age and married the same as us. She left her husband, moved into a San Francisco apartment, joined an adult dating site, and got laid."

I reacted as if it wasn't news. "That happens all the time, especially in California ."

"I know, Roy , but this was different. She loved her husband, but they were in a rut. It was a midlife crisis where she wanted to find out what it was like to have sex with other men. They agreed to have an open marriage for a year, so she had lots of casual encounters with strangers. She wrote about it in a book."

"Have you read the book?"

"Not yet. I ordered it from Amazon."

"Do you think we are in a rut, honey? I mean, do we need to have sex more than a couple of times a week?"

"I don't know about the rut, but sex has gotten routine. Don't you agree?"

I shrugged my shoulders and said, "Sometimes, I guess."

"I only know that when women turn forty, we somehow reach a sexual peak and want to investigate a little in case we are missing out something."

"So you want an open marriage?" I asked.

"I don't think I could do what Robin went through. After all, she had a new lover every week. That's a little much. Maybe we can talk about this again after I read the book."

It was like she devoured the book. She stayed up all night reading, and finished before daybreak.

I asked her, "How was the book?"

"Riveting and you know what? I realized I was a little too conservative before meeting you. I only had sex with three of my boyfriends. That's pretty low on the experience scale."

It occurred to me that we had never had this discussion before. I said, "Well, you weren't far behind me. I wasn't Mr. Romeo back then."

Hope looked me straight in the eye and asked, "Would you like to be with other women?"

"Look, Dear, men always want to fuck other women. The thing is, you are beautiful, sexy, and perfect in bed."

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"It's a 'maybe'."

"Well, we have to talk about this more. Don't be surprised if someday I come up with something."

We had great sex that week. It might have been the best sex since our honeymoon. My cock was perpetually at attention, loaded and cocked. I attacked Hope's inviting pussy, plundering it with the force of an invading army. Hope was hot, even willing to try sex acts she always said were dirty. Clearly she was horny for sex and even raunchy. I loved the new Hope.

A month before her birthday she said, "I've decided what I want for my birthday."

"What's that my little sex kitten?"

"I've never said this before, but I'm really curious about sex toys. I've even seen them at the drugstore. I'd like to try one."

"What do you have in mind?" I asked.

"I don't know. Maybe I'll look online and see what's out there."

She didn't order from Amazon this time. Hope had found a site that said, "Check out this sex guide to find out what vibrator is right for you." So, that's what she did.

"What surprised me," she said later, "is that there are a dozen categories of vibrators and thousands of choices. Roy , it's all too confusing. It's really really hard to choose."

"Why don't you Google "sex stimulators" or "sex toys" on Tumblr to see what other ladies are using?" It's your birthday, Hope. You can order more than one if you want.

"Okay, I'll do some research and give you my wish list," she promised. "You get them for me all wrapped as a birthday gift."

"Good idea! This could be fun for both of us."

A day later I had her wish list. When she handed it to me she said, "Oh my god, Roy , I had no idea how horny those women were on the videos."

"What videos?

"You know, the videos you said I should watch on Tumblr. I mean these women really get off with their toys. I can't wait for my birthday.

"Okay, here's what I've chosen. I want you to order me three. One is a butt plug. I really like the jewelry on the end. Get the ruby plug. Then, I want the magic wand. It's a little expensive but just right thing when you are away on a business trip. Hey, they say men can try it too. The other toy is a dildo. Some of the women use a toy in their vagina when using the wand. It makes sense. You know how I want you to use your fingers in me when you're down on my clit."

"Jeez, Hope, I don't want to be left out of the loop," and I laughed as if making a joke. "I mean, if you enjoy your toys so much, maybe I'll need to find someone else."

With a lecherous expression, she said, "Oh, don't worry, Dear. I'll always need a real man like you!"

Could that be meant as a double entendre , I wondered. Maybe she meant "like me," but not necessarily me.

I ordered all three toys online. They arrived at my office a week early in "discreet shipping" as advertised. My secretary wrapped the packages in birthday themed gift paper along with beautiful bows on each one. She asked what I had bought my wife. My response was vague, to say the least.

For the important day, I made reservations at our favorite restaurant and asked Hope to wear her best dress and jewels. I wore a tux. It was all intended to be a surprise. Certainly, the toys would be no surprise, so the after dinner plans would be the proxy.

Hope loved to dance, and she was a great fan of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, especially in the movie, "Carefree." So, after dinner I sprung the surprise. I took her to a ballroom where people dressed elegantly and danced to music from the thirties and forties. It was like "Dancing With the Stars," but not quite as formal. We had a great time, and finally got home after midnight .

The evening was a success and more so after we got home. In the bedroom, Hope showed her appreciation although her presents remained unopened. They weren't needed that night. Holding her firm soft voluptuous breasts was my obsession. Suckling her nipples was an addiction. Hope must have been imagining she was with Fred that night fucking me with unusual energy and passion. I'd like to believe I was as debonair as Fred. At least my performance as a lover went unquestioned as she enjoyed several powerful orgasms. I responded with fierce jets of cum as if from a high powered hose. She seemed to be thrilled with our mutual climax.

In the morning, Hope opened her presents. She examined each toy carefully, took a cursory view of the instructions, then put them all back in the box.

I asked, "Aren't you going to try them out?"

"No, not now. I'm still recovering from last night. Maybe we'll try them tomorrow night."

"Do you want me there?"

"I don't know. I'll have to think about that."

She decided she wanted me there. "Okay, do you want me here as you cheerleader or as your consultant?"

She said, "I want you here as my husband holding my hand. I'm a little nervous about this."

It was a strange situation. Hope had dressed for bed in her most alluring negligee. It was a black sheer mini halter chemise. She wore no bottoms. It amazed me each time I saw her "Hope chest" that was easily visible through the lingerie. Her breasts were larger, fuller and better shaped than when we married nearly twenty years earlier. She was absolutely gorgeous.

Hope laid back against pillows propped up against the headboard and said, "I suppose I should try the wand first. The directions say to try it on your hand to get used to the vibrations. I'll use the low speed first. I saw a video on the Internet that had a woman use it on her thighs and gradually brought it up to her pussy. So that's what I'm trying." She turned the vibrator on and held my hand. "Oh, this is so exciting, Roy !" she exclaimed.

The wand had been on for only a minute when she said, " Roy , feel this," and she let it massage my arm for a short while. "Now I'm gonna try it down here."

She let it linger on her inner thigh and slowly brought it up to her pussy. Eventually she was brave enough to let it touch her clit. "Ooo," she yelped, then went back. to touch her sensitive organ a second time. She left it there longer getting accustomed to the strange new feelings. Then she said, "I want to try the fast speed."

I could tell she was drifting into a world of her own. Moisture began to accumulate at her vulva, and she made the most wonderful cooing sounds. All at once she demanded I give her the dildo. It was big and thick. In one swift motion, she stuffed it all the way in.

There she was in a dream world masturbating as if I wasn't there. There was no doubt about her orgasms. Each one brought about a sharp cry of passion. I was terribly jealous for not being the man to give her so much pleasure.

After awhile when she came down from her first high, she said she wanted to try the butt plug. Using a generous supply of K-Y jelly, Hope gently inserted into her bottom. Like she said, the ruby at the end was sexy. The sparkling jewel was all that was visible once she got the plug all the way in. She squealed again with excitement.

"Hand me the wand, Roy , and turn it to high." She no longer was holding my hand. Hope had been a quick learner, and now knew exactly how to use her new toy. She massaged her clit with the wand and pleasured her g-spot with the dildo. I left the room to get a drink. I needed a good strong one, vodka on the rocks.

I have no idea how long it was before she called me into the bedroom. "Fuck me, Roy. I need your cock and your cum to make the evening complete. I did as she said.

She was so wet; she was so horny; she was so hot I barely could keep up with her until I blasted a bucket load of cum into that horny vagina.

We fell asleep in each other's arms.

In the morning, Hope reflected on the previous night's activities. " Roy , last night was fantastic. You know, even on our best nights in bed, sex lasted for less than an hour. Last night we played for nearly three hours. I was so horny and got myself off a dozen times, then at the end, you were the icing on the cake. Thank you so much for my toys," and she gave me a huge honey kiss. I hadn't seen her so happy in years.

Not many weeks later, our company merged with a British firm. This meant late hours at the office and several business trips. The toys kept Hope company in my absence.

But good news has it's limits. A husband that isn't available breeds discontent, even fantasies, and eventually the excitement of birthday presents loses their attraction. Like a child's favorite Christmas toy, Hope's playthings found a home in the back of the closet. Hope had lost interest in plastic, and was looking for new adventures.

Hope found it in the obvious place, the Internet. She no longer could curb her curiosity, and decided to send out feelers like Robin in the Wild Oats Project. She was only looking mind you. It was an experiment like in research. Only in her case, she soon got emotionally involved.

Men on the adult dating site are not shy. When a woman says she is available, they flock to her like mice to cheese. After receiving two dozen hits in little more than a day, Hope should have taken her name off the site and walked away. She didn't. For her, the responses were like a kid in a candy shop. She wanted more, and her sexual appetite grew with each online reply.

What is there not to like when your looks and desirability are reaffirmed? Reading men's seductive comments became addictive. She simply had to meet one of them to reassure herself this was all real.

His name was Tom, married and looking. He said he was thirty-six. He probably was older. She also had cheated on her age. Hope could afford to fudge a little since she looked much younger than forty-three. They met at a bar for a few drinks to see if they would take it a step further. They did, on a weekend I was out of town.

The hotel room was nothing to write home about. It was ordinary in every respect. So was the sex. Tom was nervous. Hope was nervous. They were awkward in getting started. Their hands never seemed to be in the right place at the right time. Their first kiss was like a playing darts blind. They missed the target which brought about some nervous laughter. It wasn't easy, but somehow they managed to be in bed together naked.

Whether it was from nervousness or inexperience, Tom fumbled his attempts to satisfy Hope orally. After a short time, they dispensed with the customary oral foreplay in favor of the main event. This time Tom did not miss the mark!

He was in and out of her before Hope could work up even a mini orgasm. However, that was not the case with Tom. His climax was a deluge of sperm that must have been in reserve for a long time.

Later, they tried it again doggy with more favorable results. Hope was able to get off several times before Tom exploded again. She was engorged with his cum that never seemed to stop flowing from her eager pussy.

All at once he dressed and declared, as if he had a deadline, "I gotta get home. It's already two AM !"

Tom asked for her email address but she declined saying this was a one night stand, not a permanent arrangement. She stayed in the hotel room until morning.

After that night, Hope took some time to evaluate and reassess her situation. Just like planning a vacation can be as exciting as the actual trip, the night with Tom was like that. The anticipation of having sex with a stranger was overwhelming, and was as good as the sex. The bottom line was that Hope was glad she did it, but was uncertain about the future.

Back home, sex with Hope and I had reverted to ordinary. It was like acting out a movie where everything was scripted. Hope gave the impression she was resigned to "ordinary."

This changed when Hope flew to her hometown to help celebrate her parents' fortieth wedding anniversary. She took a mid-morning flight in first class. I had earned thousands of miles from my business trips to Europe, so that made the extravagance possible. Seated next to her was a well dressed man in suit and tie with a nicely trimmed beard. There was a touch of grey along his temples making him look distinguished. She found him very polite and attractive, especially his English accent. He was from London and in the States on a business trip. He introduced himself. His name was Hugh.

They had a long six hour flight so there was plenty of time to compare notes. Hugh was an executive in a large multinational corporation. Hope said she was on her way to see her parents; she was married, and recently had her forty-third birthday. Hugh was easy to talk with, and she found herself revealing much too much of her private self. Hope told him about going dancing on her birthday, saying she loves to dance. Hugh listened and cajoled her into disclosing far more information than ordinarily would be appropriate with a stranger.

In a word, he was charming. The Champagne cocktails helped loosen her tongue as well.

Before landing, Hugh said he was glad they had met. Hope enthusiastically agreed, maybe too enthusiastically. He said he would be in town for four days and perhaps they could meet for a drink some evening. Hugh gave her the hotel's phone number and said "Ring me up when you are free."

The first night was a gala celebration at her parents' home for their anniversary. It was like old home week with about two dozen friends and relatives congratulating the happy couple. During most of the evening, she couldn't get Hugh out of her mind. She only could think of having cocktails with him and getting to know him better. Sex with him was another passing thought.

Around noon the next day, she called the hotel. She asked to be connected with Hugh. The hotel clerk asked for his room number. Of course, she didn't know it.

"Mam, we have a Hugh Stewart in room 743. Would that be the person you wish to contact?"

"Do you know if he is British?" she asked.

"I am not sure, Mam. I wasn't here when he checked in."

"Okay, can I leave a message?"

"Of course."

"The message is, If you are from London and wish to meet for a drink, give me a call, Hope ." She gave her cell number.

Hugh called an hour later apologizing for not giving her his full name. "Yes," he said, "I'd like some company tonight. Right now I'm in a conference. I'll get back to you as soon as the meeting is over." He called again at half past four and asked her to meet him in the hotel lobby at eight.

After dinner with her parents, Hope called a taxi and arrived at the hotel a few minutes late. Hugh was there to greet her with a smile. "Glad you could join me, Hope. This might be far too bold of me, but would you like to have a few drinks and go dancing tonight? I was told there is a place not far from here and believe it or not, it's for adults, not for teenagers."

She said, "Sure, why not."

The valet opened the car door and helped her in the passenger side. When Hugh had settled in the driver's side, she joked, "Hugh, you remember we drive on the right side."

He laughed and said, "It might be a struggle, but I'll do my best. Maybe you can be my wing-man."

Hope smiled and asked, What's a wing-man?"

"Someone to look after the pilot," and they were off.

Hope was amazed when they drove up to the building. She immediately recognized the place. It as the theater of her high school that had closed a decade earlier. She felt at home, yet her nerves were getting the best of her. She feared, What if someone recognized her?

Inside, the theater had been gutted and remodeled as a ballroom. The stage was still where it was years ago and the band was already warming up. Apparently there was a senior center nearby and the place had become very popular. At eight thirty , there were only three other couples sitting at tables drinking wine waiting for the music to start. She saw no familiar faces.

Hugh ordered Champagne . He remembered that Hope drank Champagne cocktails. They sat out the first number. It was way too fast for their first dance. The second song was almost too perfect. She remembered it from her dad's old Sinatra LP's. The lyrics swirled through her head, "This is my first affair, please be kind." Of course, she knew it wasn't her first, but it sure wasn't going to be her last.

As the dance floor began to get crowded, they held each other closer. Their body language was unmistakable. She felt so comfortable in his arms; all of her anxieties had disappeared. Hope couldn't help but remembering the line, "what is dancing but making love set to music." Hope suggested it was time to leave. Hugh asked her if she would like to spend a little more time with him at the hotel. She nodded her approval.

Outside the door to Room 743, Hugh quickly hung the "Do Not Disturb/No Moleste" sign. Little was said inside his lavishly appointed suite. She trembled as he held her tightly and gave her a lust filled kiss that Hope returned with equal desire. He removed his jacket and tie, then took charge unzipping her dress and unhooking her bra. She did not resist. He said her breasts were like those of a twenty year old. She unbuttoned his shirt. He dropped his pants. All that was left were his briefs and her panties.

Neither of them hesitated to fulfill their desires. Although Hugh was charming and polite in public, in bed he was as aggressive as a bull shark. He pulled off her panties and had his fingers in her while ravenously sucking on her tits. It sent powerful impulses down between her legs making her already wet pussy drenched.

Soon after, he straddled her face with his huge balls hanging over her lips. She knew the MO and sucked and licked them watching his cock straighten and stiffen. It was the first uncut dick she had seen. Taking his cock in her mouth, he went down to her cunt. It was the classic sixty-nine arrangement.

Hugh was hungry for her clit. He nibbled and sucked and licked until she was out of her mind with lust. Hope finally had to beg. "Fuck me, Hugh, fuck me.

His cock slid easily inside her like a hockey puck on ice. He banged hard into her and they had, as she put it, "extremely animated intercourse." She moaned. He drilled her until she could hardly breathe with excitement. Each orgasm was punctuated by shouts and squeals. Hope had never been so vocal during sex before.

Hugh lasted and lasted. Their slippery bodies glided over each other as though they were in a sauna. He had the endurance of a race horse, and he came like one as well. He just laid on top of her plying her with kisses and hugs. For a man getting up in years, Hugh was the best lover she ever had or ever could have imagined.

After a long time cuddling, Hugh broke the silence and said, "This has been lovely, Hope. I wish you could stay, but I have a breakfast meeting in the morning. If we're together much longer, I won't get a minute of rest and it's already past one. Would you like to join me for dinner this evening?"

"Of course, I'd like that," Hope responded.

"Meet me here at half past seven ."

Hope gave him a kiss, dressed, and Hugh ordered her a taxi. She was back at her parents' home a half hour later.

She was in somewhat of a fog all day thinking about Hugh, the great sex they had, and anticipating dinner. Hope decided to go shopping to get her mind off of him. It didn't work, although she bought a beautiful sexy black dress with a plunging neckline to wear at dinner. Wearing a half cup bra, it showed more than an adequate amount of cleavage. She made sure that the zipper in the back would make it easy to remove.

Hope found a hairdresser in the afternoon. When she met Hugh at slightly past seven thirty that evening, she looked gorgeous. Hugh was dazzled and told her she was prettier than Duchess Kate. In fact, he pretty much treated her like a princess all evening, that is until bedtime.

The restaurant he chose was fitting for her gown. It was by far the most elegant French restaurant she had ever seen. He ordered for the both of them. The meal was delicious.

Their conversation was dominated by talk of world affairs. There was much to talk about on that subject since England had just voted to Brexit, that is to leave the European Union. Hugh talked a little about how it would effect his company, however much of their business was in the United States rather than Europe .

Hope mentioned she had grown up in the area but met her husband in college. She didn't want to dwell on her husband and changed the subject to sports. Hugh was a former soccer player or football as he called it. She showed the necessary interest in the conversation although her mind was on something else. They finished with an after-dinner drink of cognac before heading back to the hotel.

There was no misunderstanding about their after dinner activities. It was a little after ten when they entered his suite in room 743. Her black evening gown fell to the floor as quickly as dropping a sledge hammer. Her bra was quickly discarded. She wore a skimpy thong. Hope laid seductively in bed watching him undress. He joined her completely naked. She knew her first task was to help his arousal with a blowjob. In her mind and actions, she she was a prostitute servicing a client. It didn't take long for him to have a full erection.

Again, Hugh provided his oral talents on her pussy and soon penetrated her with his steely cock. Her erotic anticipation of this moment had made her wet all day long. Hope was more than ready to be fucked.

For hours they screwed in every conceivable position. If he seemed never to get enough of her, she certainly lusted endlessly for him. It all ended at three in the morning. Before leaving, they exchanged email addresses. He was flying back to England in the morning. Her flight was in the afternoon. She cried when saying goodbye.

During the next month, Hope emailed Hugh several times. He didn't write back. Her only respite from her deepening sadness was in bed with me. I had become a surrogate for Hugh. When we made love, she imagined it was Hugh. I never had a clue, although sex had become exciting again making me a very happy husband.

One Friday, I returned from work with exciting news. "We are going to London ," I said. "All the executives that hadn't been sacked from the old company were going with their wives. Hope was over the moon with expectations.

She wrote Hugh immediately, writing that she would be in London in two weeks. Again, he did not return her email. She wondered, How could they have had such an intimate and loving relationship, then ignore her? She wished somehow there was a way to get in touch with him. London is a big place, and she found there are dozens of Hugh Stewart's after an Internet search. Finding a needle in a haystack didn't adequately describe it.

Hope had never been to London or even Europe . She was so excited it was hard for her to fall asleep at night. This was a trip of a lifetime. Little did she know or suspect how it would turn out.

Leading up to the trip, things needed to be organized; decisions had to be made, especially what to pack. She made sure to include her black evening gown, knowing it would make the other executives' head turn. In fact, she thought, It would be nice to get the attention and maybe make a few of the husbands jealous of Roy .

Their first night in England was a social event, a cocktail party at the company's London headquarters. She wore her dress. I said it might be a little too much for the British sensibilities. Hope insisted that this was the twenty first century, and even Britain had accepted it. She said, " Roy , this is not your grandmother's England ." I accepted her logic.

There were probably two dozen people mingling, chatting, and sipping drinks when we walked in. At the bar, she ordered Champagne . I had vodka on the rocks. I introduced her to a few of my colleagues when a bolt of lightening struck. Okay, it's a metaphor, but it perfectly describes the moment.

"Come over here, Dear. I want to introduce you to our CEO . Hope, this is Hugh Stewart. Hugh, this is my wife."

I had to hold her from fainting. Maybe the drink was too strong. When she regained her balance, she said, "Please excuse me. It was a long flight. It's a pleasure to meat you Mr. Stewart."

Hugh said, "Hope, I think we met on a flight a month or so ago. Weren't you on your way to an anniversary?"

"That's right Mr. Stewart. I remember now. Nice to see you again."

"Just call me Hugh. We are on a first name basis here. Is it alright if I call you Hope?"

"Of course, Mr. Stewart, Hugh."

That was the last of their conversation.. It was not the last of their association with each other.

Quietly and secretly, he slipped a note in her hand. It read, "Private office, fourth floor, nine thirty ."

At the bewitching hour, she excused herself saying she was headed to the ladies room. It was easy to find the office. It took up the entire fourth floor. Inside, Hugh was waiting.

"Why didn't you write me, Hugh?"

"I've been engaged with this merger, and I haven't had a tick worth of time on my own. We haven't but a minute, Hope. Can we make it a quickie?" and he sat her on his huge oak desk. In two shakes, he had her thong off and his pants hanging around his ankles.

He plowed his knob into her welcoming pussy riding her for only minutes before he injected her with a copious supply of spunk. He handed her a towel and said, "I'm sorry we don't have more time like we had in the States. I'll get in touch if you would like to get together later." It was an obvious rhetorical question.

Hope wiped the milky juices trickling down her legs, pulled on her thong and joined the party downstairs. She felt like such a whore. It was exactly what she wanted.

While I was at a meetings the next few days, Hugh and Hope found an hour or so each day to spend time together for several more quickies in his hotel room.

A week after returning from England , I got an unexpected promotion to Vice President. Over the next year, we enjoyed a half dozen more trips to London . I was making good money and Hope was delighted to go to London . They all involved hookups with Hugh that somehow escaped my notice.

The final trip with Hope came about when the merger had been completed and every executive and major shareholder was in London for the celebration. Hugh gave an inspirational spee ch on the health and future of the company. To conclude his remarks, he said he wanted to announce a personal kind of merger to the event. Hugh introduced Stella as the next Mrs. Stewart. She was blond, tall, thin, buxom, beautiful and twenty-four. She was his third. Everyone cheered except for Hope who quickly ran from the room.

Someone came to me to say, "Your wife is very ill. It would be best to take her back to the hotel."

Her meltdown continued on the plane home. I asked her what was wrong. She just said she was sick. I suggested we go to the ER at the hospital. She said no, that wasn't the problem. I kept prying to find out what was the matter. Finally in a fit of anger she said, "Don't you get it, Roy ? Are you so obtuse that you don't know what's been going on? Haven't you figured out why all of a sudden you got that promotion, and I love going to London ?"

I was stunned and said, "What are you telling me, Hope?"

"I'm trying to tell you, Dear, I've been fucking your CEO ever since my parents' fortieth anniversary. We met on the plane. We met for drinks, and it went from there."

"But he just got married!"

"Now you're catching on," she said sarcastically.

That was the last time she and I were together in London .

Soon after, I was out of town for a few days. On my return, there was a box wrapped like a birthday present on the kitchen table. The card read, "I've been unfaithful and I'm so sorry Roy. I can't guarantee I can change and can't continue living a life of deceit. I've decided to leave. It's better for both of us. It's not your fault. Love and kisses, Hope."

The box held three sex toys and a notebook called, "My Diary."