My husband and I had been married nine years when we started talking about having sex with others. It wasn’t a cataclysmic event in our lives that started us discussing an open marriage. No traumatic soul-searching experience prompted us to reevaluate our relationship. What it was restlessness, Lloyd’s and mine.

Lloyd and I had been sexually active before our marriage and monogamous after, finding fulfillment in each other’s arms. Oh, I looked, for sure, my pussy tingling as I ogled some well-tanned, muscular lifeguard or took in the style and carriage of an obviously successful businessman ever so handsomely attired. And Lloyd looked too, at pretty girls flaunting their youthful charms, at mature women whose poise and grace we both admired. But neither of us acted, choosing instead the familiar,... Read More