Finally, after twenty-five years of being with her, I told my wife of my favorite fantasy - watching her with another man.  To say that she received that revelation with less than enthusiasm would be a gross understatement.

Over the next several months, after discussing the whys, wherefores, how comes and other things concerning my fantasy, my wife started reading the magazines I would bring home.  The stories and letters would get her all hot and bothered and we began to make love about three times more often than we had been.  And then one day my wife told me that someday, if the situation and circumstances were just right, she might, only might, fulfill my fantasy. 

"But don't get your hopes up too high because it isn't likely to happen."

But several things did happen.  For one, my wife became a much more sexual person.  She bought 'lacy things' to wear around the house and high heeled 'come and fuck me' pumps which she started to wear more often.  I would come home from work and find her sitting on the couch in her new 'lacy things' with a rubber cock in her pussy - "heating it up for you" she said.  Her personality changed.  Where she used to give me dirty looks when I'd watch some well-stacked honey walk by, now she would say things like, "Down boy.  You can't chase that until I've had all I want."  She even started commenting on the guys we would see, "Could you imagine me with him?"  "How about that one?  Would you like to see me suck his cock?" 

And then one day something happened that showed me that she was a totally different person from the one I'd lived with for twenty-five years.  We had gone to a local restaurant for breakfast and had been seated next to a couple that I'll call "attention getting" for lack of a better way of describing them.  The man was a fairly good-looking young man and he appeared to be a few years younger that the woman.  The woman was something else.  My mother would have called her a tramp.  My father, on the other hand, would have followed her around the super-market or mall for hours, keeping a careful ten feet behind her.  Every male in the place was having trouble keeping their eyes off her, and the woman in the booth across from her alternated between looking daggers at her and throwing glances at her husband daring him to look at the woman.

 Me?  I just looked at the woman, appreciatively I might add, and wondered what her story might be.  She was maybe middle thirties, dirty blonde hair with dark roots showing, heavy eye make-up, and bright red lipstick with nails to match.  She had a half dozen heavy bracelets on each arm and several gaudy rings on each hand.  She was wearing a black tank-top that was performing heroically in trying to contain what had to be at least 38 C cup breasts, and tight jeans, and high heels.  When she leaned forward in her seat her jeans gapped in back to reveal black thong underwear and you could actually see the thong disappearing between the top of her ass cheeks.  My wife looked at me and said, "Are you having another one of your fantasies?"  I just smiled and continued to watch the woman.

We finished our breakfast and while I was fishing out my wallet my wife did something totally out of character for her, she got up and went over to the woman's table and said something to her.  The woman's head turned and she looked at me and then she looked back at my wife.  Some words were exchanged and my wife came back to our table.

 "What was that all about?" I asked. 

"I just told her that she should give you her check.  That buying her breakfast was the least you could do to thank her for the enjoyment that her presence here gave you." 

Just then the woman got up and walked over to us, "I'm a lot more expensive than the cost of breakfast, but thanks anyway for the compliment."

 She handed me a piece of paper and walked away.  I looked at the paper and saw that it had a name - Jasmine - and a phone number.  I'll be damned, I thought - Jasmine was a hooker.  I showed it to my wife and she reached over and took it from me, "I think I'd better take charge of that."

That happened on a Sunday morning.  The following Tuesday evening when I got home from work I found my wife sitting at the kitchen table sipping martinis with none other than Jasmine.  Jasmine looked stunning.  Gone were the trampy clothes, the heavy make-up and the gaudy jewelry.  She was wearing a white mini dress with a pair of white high-heeled pumps, and her make-up consisted of just a touch of eye shadow and some ice-pink lipstick.  I tried to hide my instant erection, but from the grins on the faces of the two women I knew I was busted.

  "I'm afraid to ask," I said, "so I won't" and I poured myself a martini from the pitcher and joined them at the table where I, again unsuccessfully, tried to avoid staring at Jasmine's incredible cleavage.

“It's quite simple my love.  I've decided that I'm going to watch you with another woman to see if it might give me some idea of what it would be like for you to see me with another man."

For the next two hours Jasmine worked me over and left me a physical wreck.  Every time I thought I was done and couldn't possibly do any more she would somehow revive me, and all the time my wife watched.  She even took a couple of Polaroid's and shot some video.  When Jasmine could not get my dick to stir anymore my wife said," I think I understand now.  That was very erotic."

And then she turned to Jasmine and nodded.  Jasmine took a cell phone out of her purse and made a phone call, then she went back to work on my dick in what I expected would be a vain attempt at getting me hard again.  About five minutes later the door bell rang and a minute or so after that my wife, wearing only high heels, came into the room with the guy who had been having breakfast with Jasmine.  My wife smiled at me as she turned and started to help the man undress.

  "Now it's my turn," she said as my cock started to rise, "Or maybe it's your turn.  I guess it's all in the way you look at it."

  My wife found out that she enjoyed being watched and we have done it again - several times.  My wife and Jasmine became good friends and Jasmine became a regular fixture around the house.  Although there was never a repeat performance between Jasmine and myself I do have to admit that I thought about it every time I saw her.  How did I respond to my wife becoming good friends with a hooker?  I can honestly say that I never gave it much thought - until tonight.  Tonight I came home from work and found a note on the kitchen table,  "Honey.  Your dinner is in the microwave.  I'm having drinks with Jasmine and some of her friends.  I may be late so don't wait up."

 Some of Jasmine's friends?  Oh shit!