The bad dream

It was 2 a.m. I was up after another bad dream. In it, my wife Sandra had sex with her boss. He was fucking her doggy as she was telling him not to be mean to me. It was the third time that week that I had this kind of a dream. The dream in which my wife was fucking or was naked with her boss. In the dream, she was wearing the same clothes that she had on in the anonymous pic that got sent to me. After a moment of lying awake, I looked over to my sleeping wife, then stood up and went to the bathroom.

‘This isn't good. I am losing my mind. She wouldn't fuck him. She knows that there is a sort of line she isn't supposed to cross. The guys that I don't feel comfortable with, that is the line,’, I thought to my self. Eventually, I went into the kitchen for a glass of water, then back into the bed. Sandra was still asleep. I looked at her with some sort of fear. There was a knot forming in my stomach. ‘These fucking pic, I thought to my self.’ It's Mark, there could be no one else. He is just a giant ass hole.’

‘He wants to fuck her. I understand that. She is sexy. But he also wants to rub it in my face. Or maybe he needs me to be a bit on edge so that he can finally bag her’ my mind continued racing.

Sandra had turned in to the center of my world now, and I was afraid of losing her. I didn’t know if I could handle it. She was what made me happy, and she was what made me sad.

It wasn’t healthy for me, but it was what it was. When things were good between us, I was soaring emotionally. When they weren't, I was low, and then the words of others were rather meaningless to me.

She had noticed this a while back, and I was beginning to suspect that she was starting to think that this was a bit much. Like, she couldn't carry a burden that large, especially when the definition of when things were bad wasn’t that obvious to her. She probably thought that I sew problems where there were none, that I was exaggerating.

Last month she suggested therapy sessions for my moodiness. It scared me to think of what would happen to our relationship if she found the situation increasingly difficult. I didn’t want to lose her. That is all I knew at this point, that and that the therapy sessions sounded like a good idea. I have been little moody lately, more so then I should be. So the therapy idea was gaining appeal with me.

‘There was something angelic about the way she looked when she was asleep.’ I looked at her for a while, then cuddled up to her. She reacted by taking my hand and giving it a kiss before putting it on her chest while still in the fetal position. Then we both went to sleep.

Time to see a shrink

The days past and I started seeing a shrink. We talked in-depth about my reactions to the pics that were sent to me, and my feelings of self-worth a so on. Sandra was the first woman that I was truly attracted to, that I managed to bag. This fact, by itself brought a number of insecurities with it. We discussed that quite a bit, and I realized that I had to work on it. She had chosen me. I needed to be proud of that and to behave like a man that Sandra chose and not like a guy that is afraid of losing her, if I wanted to keep her that is. 

All and all things were getting better, and then another batch of anonymous pics from another number that I couldn't trace arrived. Two pics, in fact. The first one of Sandra from a distance of five meters, maybe. It was obvious that she wasn’t aware that she is being photographed. She had a skirt on that emphasised her womanly hips and luscious bum. The photo was taken from the side and also showed her large boobs fighting to burst out of her shirt. 

The other photo was a close up pic of her as. It came with a text:" It's only a matter of time before I get in there."

The common denominator for all of these pics was that they were taken at her workplace. Sandra is a teacher that teaches math and sex ed. I got two pics the first time as well. It was obvious that she was photographed from the front without being aware of the fact. One of the pics was close up of her boobs. Sandra wore a rather reviling blouse that day.

The new pics were a clear setback. I started obsessing again. I didn't tell Sandra about them. I didn't want to make her stressed out for no reason. She didn't know who this was; she couldn't have known. And telling her wouldn't accomplish anything. What was I to say to her? Mark is secretly taking pics of you and sending them to me. He would deny it, and she might believe him. She would then be on edge around her students, and that wouldn't solve anything.

I said nothing at that time. I was secure in myself self, and I was the man she fell for, not a guy that ran to her with his problems. My shrink applauded this approach.

I booked a weekend getaway for us the week after. It was a spa in a nearby city. We were relaxed and had sex, and I even encouraged her to talk to a guy I saw her secretly checking out, not realizing that I noticed. She blushed.

"I am awful. I am sorry," she said.

"You are not awful. You have your needs, and It's not like you would be doing something that you wouldn't allow me to do," I said calmly.

She looked surprised.

"I am sorry for being a bit sensitive lately. Life got better of me. I suppose," I added.

She looked even more surprised now, but found her footing and said with a smile, " That damn life, it does that sometimes."

I smiled and gave her a kiss on the lips. Then I picked up my glass of vine and said that I am going to our room. I felt like I was winning this one. It is a guy that we don't know. She can have her fling. I will know about it, and all will be well.

New photos

I was feeling good for a while. The summer was on its way. There was plenty of sunlight outside. My kids were happy, and my relationship was going well, and I started playing music again. I was a bass player in a sort of pop-rock band many years ago, and I decided that I would try to get back to the music. We played a lot of rock and were pretty good. That is the way I meat my now wife. ‘Life was good.’

But then I received new pics. This time there were three of them. One of a large flaccid penis, exposed trough the opening of unzipped pants. The second one was Sandra, in what seemed to be the same room by her self, standing with one hand on her hip, looking straight at the camera, with a mock exasperation look on her face. The third one was Sandra again. This time the cameraman seemed to be a lot closer. Sandra was smiling and covering her eyes with one hand while stretching out the other arm in a repelling gesture towards the camera.

There was a text this time as well. It said, "sweet dreams."

‘It must be Mark,’ I thought to my self. ‘Whoever it was doesn't seem to be a big deal to her. She was laughing. What happened after that last photo was taken?’ My mind was rushing a million miles. ‘She was going to fuck him. If! She hadn't al reddy. Did he know about my dream?’

Preparing for dinner

It was five o'clock pm. My wife, Sandra was visibly nervous as she tried to get her self ready for the coming evening. She was rather short with me and avoided eye contact when I tried to engage her in any conversation.

The food was done, the kids were on their respective school trips, and we were waiting for our guests. They were supposed to arrive at six o’clock.

I was sitting on the sofa and reading the paper on my computer. Sandra's phone was ringing on a few occasions. She had left it on the counter in the kitchen. I was sure that she heard it while walking back and forth between the bathroom and our bedroom.

It meant, she was constantly walking through the hall that was adjacent to the kitchen. The kitchen is connected to the living room. It was one open space. 

Then after a couple of minutes, my phone rang. It was my daughter, Maria. We talked for a short while, about the school trip she was on before she asked me if she could talk to her mother. My daughter is a lesbian, and she was going through some stuff.

"Sure," I replied and walked across the living room, trough the hall and up to our main bedroom. The door to the bedroom was ajar at that moment. I knocked and entered without waiting for the reply.

This startled my wife, who was posing in front of the mirror in her lingerie at that moment, but she quickly turned around to grab an article of clothing from the bed and cover her self up for some reason.

“You got to wait for me to reply when you nock honey,” she said.

"Ok," I said, dumbfounded as I walked back to the living room.

Her reaction shocked me a little. I understood that she was a bit edgy today, considering the guests that we were expecting. So was I to be honest, but still. She was my wife. The covering up was a bit too much I thought. Seeing the way she looked was an additional setback. She was beautiful. Her sexy black lingerie was struggling to contain the luxuriance of her womanly body.

My wife is a short woman. She is one hundred fifty-five centimetres tall, with womanly hips, nice ass, and two very firm natural double D breasts. She has brown hear and big brown eyes, a round face with a perky nose. 

The lingerie was new. I haven't seen it before. It gave me a hard-on as well as one of those by now all to familiar knots in my stomach. She was going through with it after all; I thought to my self.

What was she going through with you ask? She was going to ask Mark to be her regular bull, Mark that I mentioned earlier that is. The man behind the "anonymous photos." 

We were to host a dinner for some of our friends this evening. Actually, they were all Sandras friends. I just happen to know them through her. It was to be two of us and four other people. These were Sandra's sister Ivana with her husband Stefan and Stefan's childhood friend Mark, the earlier mentioned fan of photography and his son Paul. Mark and Paul lived two doors down from our house, and Mark is a principal at the school that Sandra works at. So you could say that I know them as well, which I do, but mostly through my very social wife Sandra and the pic's that the kind Mark has been sending me. The pics that he has sent have thought me that he is a super ass hole. 

My wife had a special relationship with Mark and Paul. They constantly flirted with her. Paul was eighteen years old, and he used to be a student of Sandra’s. Now he is a student of mine. Both me and Sandra are teachers. We teach different grades.

Paul, the son, the smug little shit tends to message Sandra while at school, and he has even sent her a dick pic. She just laughed it off. Phone photography seams to be a family thing for these guys.

"I always knew that you are gifted, but maybe not in this way," Sandra answered, following up with a wink emoji.

"But I am a bit old for you, and you are basically friends with my son. Aren't there hot girls your age at the new school?” She said added.

He replied: "I am not friends with that loser," followed with a bicep emoji.

The little prick showed me the pic he had sent her and her response as well. He was perhaps friends with our son, but they knew each other. They said hello to each other, and they played football at the same club. To say that I was enraged by Pauls's behaviour was an understatement. I needed to talk to Sandra. 

“I love her. She is the best teacher that I ever had. I really miss her. My old man is a lucky man that gets to be with her every day,” the little prick said.

I didn't think that his choice of words was accidental. He wanted me to think that Mark was with Sandra sexually. I really hated that kid. I wish I could flunk him in math, but that was a dangerous idea. He had a catch on me thanx to the "correspondence" with my wife. I don't think that my son knew, and I didn't want him to know. I know that Sandra really didn’t want him to know.

Sandra's interaction with the two men didn’t stop at flirting. On one previous occasion, Sandra gave the father, that is Mark, a blow job. It happened at a barbecue party that we had a couple of weeks ago. 

This might sound like a shock to a normal person, and seeing it, was a shock for me too, despite my being aware that Sandra sleeps with other men on occasion. But this is my and Sandra's life. We could sleep around if we wanted to. I didn't like it, but we had that kind of relationship.

It was a sort of concession I made to her. I really love her, and I want her to be happy. Unlike me, Sandra acted upon our arrangement every now and then. It was always with men that live somewhere else, preferably if we are on vacation or something. It was a safe sort of transgression in her eyes, and it was a less painful one in mine.

I, on the other hand, was happy without fucking another woman. Sandra and the kids were all I needed in life. I am forty years old, and she is thirty-six. We have two kids, an extroverted fourteen-year-old daughter Maria and a sixteen-year-old son Andreas. We agreed on an open relationship about six years ago.

Sandra's mother and father are sorts of swingers, and her sister Ivana is a hotwife. Her husband is a cuckold. The reason for him being labeled a cuckold is that he doesn't choose his wife's partners. Furthermore, he is often present during intercourse as a submissive observer. He is most often watching from a chair or sofa, sometimes even hiding in the closet and stroking himself while Ivana is getting fucked. 

Sex was always important to the women in the Johansson family. They are all naturally pretty and often approached by random men, even Sandra's mother Alma, gets hit on regular bases, and she is fifty-five years old. They openly talk about sex and discuss their partners in-depth. I am not a fan of these discussions and try not to listen. But sometimes I sort of get stuck in a situation where I got to listen.

Stefan and I got along alright initially, not so anymore. I always thought of him as a bit different, everybody did. But I thought that he was harmless. But somewhat annoying. He would talk to us about the bulls as if they could learn something from him while Ivana rolled her eyes behind his back, and the rest of us struggled to keep a straight face. So, in the beginning, one felt sorry for him. He was a pushy, cartoonish man who reminded us about a young Rodney Dangerfield.

He would talk about the lifestyle as if somehow some bulls were lower in standing compared to him and they had a thing or two to learn from him, despite him being the one that has to look at them fucking his wife in any way they pleased. He could also be asked to leave during the intercourse if he was present or summoned to watch if he wasn’t.

He tried to portray the cuckolding lifestyle almost as an art form, some sort of high culture, and himself as an expert on it. I always thought that was a way for him to have some dignity while participating in discussions about the Johansson women's sexual escapades. However, it felt somewhat fake. He would often ask Sandra how her sex life was as if I wasn't there. It was one of the things I let slide in the beginning. Stefan is a short and chubby guy with brown curly hair that worked as a croupier for most of his life. I saw no treat in him.

Basically, I felt sorry for him, but as time went on, "letting it slide" was increasingly hard.

The annoying part was that he was a close friend of Mark's and that he always took his side in arguments, or defended him if someone said something bad about him. As if he looked up to him. I personally thought that Mark was a douche from the get-go. And that sentiment got cemented in me as the time passed.

In the beginning, I felt sorry for Stefan for this reason as well. I thought it was sad that a grown man looks up to another grown man like that. Who, by the way, was nothing out of the ordinary. He was a teacher. Well, principal but still. It was childish, I thought. Then after a while, I thought that he wanted to see Mark with Ivana. But later it became clear to me that he was selling Mark in as a future partner for Sandra all along.

Sandras Transgression

Mark, however, wasn't a nice guy. The time when Sandra blew him, they were in the kitchen. I could sense that something was wrong. Sandra acted nervous the entire day before the party, and then, all of a sudden, three of our guests and my wife disappeared out of my sight. One by one.

I was left alone with one older couple that also were are neighbours. Initially, we were all in the back yard drinking and having burgers. I glanced at my wife occasionally as she was talking to Mark. She was talking to him more than to the rest of the guests. They were whispering at times, and it was unnerving to watch. It was a beautiful day outside, and Sandra had her yellow summer dress that showed a lot of cleavage.

I was at the grill for rather long periods of time. Mark was jokingly jabbing me on my supposedly pour grill skills, on more than one occasion that day.

“This is my meat. You have to try Sandra. I know it’s much bigger then Tomas meat, but it is a lot tastier as well," Mark said with a sly smile pointing at the sausage he had brought with him that day.

Sandra blushed and lowered her head while smiling at his crude joke. Mark had his arm around her waist when he said this, and I could see how much he loved her reaction.

"This is a bit overdone mate," he said with a considered smile while holding one of the hot dogs I have done.

"I see you aren't used to handling this much meat. You are burning it,” he added.

I tried to laugh it off, mostly because Sandra laughed. It wasn't a genuine laugh, but the nervous one, that sort of said to me not to make a big deal out of all of this. Then they mingled some more and disparate somewhere into the house. At first, it was just two of them that had disappeared, and I was quite nervous. Then Stefan went into the house, and not long after, so did Ivana. I was watching the time, and it seemed to stand still.

Then, Stefan came out again, looked at me, and gave me a friendly nod. I hoped that it would be Sandra. I was afraid that something was happening. I didn’t want something to happen between Sandra and Mark. I told her that. I told her that I didn’t like him. She just told me not to worry. This was happening post the third and so far the last pic batch that was sent to me.

“Mark is just immature. Nothing will happen. I have some rules when it comes to these things," she said.

Stefan took a quick walk around the backyard. His head was bowed and gaze focused at the grass. He looked as he was if he was looking for something. But shortly after that, he went back into the house, closing the door behind him. After a few minutes of barely hearing the word Oskar, our senior citizen neighbour had to say during our conversation. I politely asked him to take over the grill for a moment so I could go to the bathroom.

He agreed, and I went into the house, leaving Oskar and his lovely wife Ida in our backyard. My heart raced as I took a couple of fast steps towards the house.

"He really needs to go," I heard Ida say.

I opened the door, and as I did that, I was met by Ivana at the door. I feel almost intercepted. She tried to stand in my way, but I walked past her as she almost shouted: "Hey, Stan!" As if she was trying to sound an alarm.

She then took me under my arm in an attempt to slow down my progress and said: "Mark and Sandra have a little discussion and that they need some privacy."

It didn't work, and I was in the kitchen in a second. Only to be greeted by my wife's cheerful demeanour. And Mark zipping up his pants. I couldn't believe it for a moment. What did I just see?

Did I just saw him zip up his pants? He had a sheepish smile on his face, and that was the most obvious sign that she was blowing him. I was quiet for a while. Then I started looking at the two of them. First looking at Mark, then looking at Sandra. Her dress was messed up. I am assuming that Mark had his hands inside her dress, fondling her boobs while getting blown. Mark was just smiling sheepishly.

“I will talk to you later," he said to Sandra, who was avoiding my gaze.

He then put his hand on my shoulder and gave me a nod while passing me by on his way towards the door. I didn't know what to say at that moment. Sandra was visibly shook up. She avoided me for the reminder of time that the guests were there. But there weren't that many guests there to start with, and all of them left within an hour of Mark leaving. First, Oskar and Ida left. Ivana and Stefan stayed a bit longer.

Stefan tried to talk to me about some ordinary everyday shit right after the incident with Mark. He was telling me that he needed to buy great sausages, he liked the once I had bought today. They were better than the once Mark had brought, he told me to my endless annoyance. This lame attempt of damage control on his behalf made me so angry that I really wanted to hit him with something.

Then Ivana and Sandra came out of the bedroom. Ivana announced that it was time for her and Stefan to leave. Sandra was thanking both of them for coming, to which Ivana announced that it was their turn to host something like this next time. 

“You bet! I just need to get this guy to tell me where he got those great sausages,” said an exuberant Stefan while putting his arm around my shoulder.

As if he really tried to annoy me even more. That was the definitive moment that I started to hate him. I had gone from liking him or at least feeling sorry for him to hating him in four years. 

And I knew that there wouldn't be turning back from this. I just hated how his pale and skinny arm felt around my shoulder at that moment. His arm was short, and Stefan had to lean into me to get it comfortably all the way around. He himself was a bit short, and so it felt like he was hanging on me. In the end, I managed to break free from him. I walked up to Ivana to give her a reluctant hug and thanked her for coming over today.

I went from one unpleasantness to another.

“Thank you for coming. You look beautiful," I said as convincingly as I could.

This threw Ivana of her guard I could see. Seeing that gave me some pleasure. I also noticed Sandra's surprise in the corner of my eye, so I decided to milk it.

"It was an evening to remember, don't you think, honey?" I said while releasing Ivana and walking up to my now shy and confused wife. I put my arm around her waist and gave her a little kiss on the cheek. She lowered her head then. At that moment, I could feel how tense her body was. The rigidity of her body and the lowered gaze told me that she knew that she did something very wrong.

As soon as we closed the door behind Stefan and Ivana, I released the hold of my wife and walked away from her and towards the kitchen.

She stayed behind initially but chose to follow me in a moment later. I took a glass and found some ice in the fridge. Then preceded to walk towards the liquor cabinet in the living room as soon as Sandra had come into the kitchen. It felt as she was about to say something when I chose to walk away.

It felt good seeing her suffer. She knew that I disliked Mark. She saw him giving me a hard time, trying to make me feel inadequate in front of her. She knew that I didn't like the fact that she slept with other men and that I would hate to know that she did anything with him. That would hurt me on another level. All of this, she knew.

“What a great day,” I said.

"Yes," she replied nervously.

"Did you enjoy your self?" I asked.

She was silent at first. I liked to see her squirm at that moment. I wanted to see her in some pain, some angst, some sort of suffering.

“It was just a blow job," she finally said.

"I know it's wrong to phrase it that way, but I have done so much more with some other men, I just don't see what the big deal is this time. I get it, I think but still. He is just childish. He likes me a little more then he thought that he would. And he has been badgering me to have sex with him for a while. I felt sorry for him, and I gave in. It's just a blow job, I thought. He would stop annoying me after that. Both him and Stefan would I hoped," she said.

"Sure, just a blow job. But I don't like you having sex with other people. I said that to you on more than one occasion. I am your husband. I love you. Don't you owe me some respect? Don't you owe me at very least some basic respect and understanding? If you know that I don't like you having sex with other men and I that I don't feel comfortable around Mark, wouldn't that be enough for a loving wife to abstain from having sex with Mark? There are other men that you can fuck, and I will try to handle that, but Mark is an ass hole and is a tad harder to handle for me!" I said rather loudly in the end.

She was listening attentively. There was a short silence after I spoke. She realized then that I was done talking and wanted to hear her side of it all.

“I am sorry. I don't want to hurt you. We got carried away. I guess that I am attracted to Mark, and it got better of me," she said.

"I thought that you did it so he would leave you alone and not bother you anymore," I said.

“That too,” she said.

“I don't understand. You like him, but You want him to stop hitting on you?"

"Yes, he is an ass hole to you. I don't like that, that is why I want it to be over. If he gets to have sex with me, he won't need to feel threatened by you, and he will calm down, I think. Then we will go back to how it was."

"So, you like him?" I asked with trepidation.

"I do, I guess. But It is killing me inside, knowing that you are suffering even more than usual," she said in an apologetic voice.

"What do you want to do with this situation?" I asked against my better judgment.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” was her reply.

To say that I was disappointed by her answer would be an understatement of the year. She wanted to fuck him. She liked him. She was possibly smitten by him. In love, if I was truly unlucky. I was quiet while she continued to talk.

“I like him, most people do. You know that. And I feel flattered that he wants me, embarrassed but flattered. I am a thirty-six-year-old woman that feels flattered that the bad boy of the teaching staff wants to fuck me," she said visibly embarrassed.

I was silent, wondering where will this nightmare end.

“I need to process this a little,” I said as I went out to the backyard.

This was becoming a real nightmare. My kids go to the school where she and Mark work. She wants to fuck this man. Se almost did it in our house, behind my back. This has never happened before. I didn't always know who she was fucking, but I have a distinct feeling that she never fucked someone that I didn't like.

Dinner at Sandra’s parents

The weekend after the dick sucking in the kitchen, Sandra and I were invited to her parent's house for dinner. Ivana and Stefan were there too. Sandra’s parents are a couple in their late fifties. Alma, Sandra's mother, had her at twenty years old and Ivana at twenty-two.

She worked as a secretary most of her life and still looked attractive. I myself found her attractive. She was tall, about one seventy-five, and busty but with more elongated face then Sandra and somewhat perky nose. She greeted us in some sort of a gown that had a flattering plunging neckline. But I had seen her naked before and knew that it wasn't false advertising.

I rather liked Alma. She is a lot like Sandra, bubbly, and kind. I also thought she liked me, both as a person and as a husband for Sadra. Alma made me feel welcome and valued in their home. I also liked her husband, Michael. He is almost a pensioner now at sixty-two, but not quiet. Michael is a rather short, stubby, and kind man. He works as some sort of low-level sales manager at the same company Alma works at. In fact, he got her that job. The company called DTR is also where Alma and Michael got exposed to the lifestyle.

Alma is a head turner now and was even more so when she was younger. The management had her on their radar early on and in their beds shortly after. She didn't mind. She was well-liked and well looked after by the powerful men at that company. One of them, in particular, was especially fond of her. His name is Peter. He has been Alma's lover for over thirty years.

He is also friends with Michael, but there is a clear distance between the two of them. Peter sees himself as a bull, and he sees Michael as a cuckold.

He sees Alma as one of "his" girls, meaning one of the women in his life that see him as their primary partner. When he is around them, Michael is merely their friend. Alma is Peters's girlfriend. This was one of those known secrets at DTR.

This exposed Michael to an alternative lifestyle. It sort of gave him a baptism under fire. He had to make decisions then and there, and he chose to stay with Alma. He chose to view her sexuality separate from her emotions, and he chose to be happy. During the years, he also got to experience other lovers with Almas blessing. This, in fact, made her truly happy. It helped her get rid of some of that guilt she felt for allowing her self to be Peters's girlfriend and sometimes entertainment to the several managers at some special parties evenings.

The dinner was awkward. Stefan tried to talk about the importance of good bulls for the happiness of the couple and that he thinks that Mark could be a great one. I knew then that there was a long evening in front of me….