You never forget your first time trying something new. I’ve certainly not forgotten the first time that my husband fucked someone else and I was involved. We’d talked about it for a long time, lying in bed, touching each other, spinning a tale in our shared imagination, his fingers slipping in and out of me as he described how it would feel to empty himself into another woman, me imagining watching it… It got to the point where I knew I had to find out if doing it for real turned me on as much as imagining it. We went to a dance club; not a bar-with-a-dance-floor but a converted warehouse in a slightly dodgy end of town with a cheap cover charge and no seats. Drinks in hand, we leaned against the bar and talked about the clientele as the dance floor started to fill up. Heavy bass pounds from giant speaker stacks and he has to lean in close, his lips brushing my ear for us to talk. I point out girls to him and ask him what he thinks: Too skinny; too fat; nice legs; gorgeous tits; terrible dress; fantastic outfit. I realised that being a cuckquean is a little like being bisexual: you can’t help but see other women in a sexual light, undressing them with your mind and imagining beşevler escort your husband, deep inside them; his cum splattered across their face. As the dance floor fills up I see my husband start to move his body to the music. He’s always loved dancing, ever since we met. I feel awkward and self-conscious on the dance floor but after a drink or too my love looses his inhibitions and lets his body flow with the music. It’s so fucking hot. He gives my hand a squeeze and he starts to prowl. He’s dancing as he’s moving around the room, looking for someone to dance with, his hips bucking and swaying with the pounding bass, his toes and heels tapping down in time to the complex rhythm of the music. A girl sees him and their eyes meet. As he moves towards her he starts to dance harder, pouring energy into his moves, flowing with the music. She’s black, with her naturally curly hair tied back in a tight scarf. She’s wearing a slinky tight white dress that falls to her lower-thigh but has a flirtatious mesh panel that dives in a sweeping V from her neckline to below her navel. She’s drawn into his vibe, moving with him as he cebeci escort moves towards her. He takes her hand and she lets him spin her around, into his arms, her back against his chest. To the sound of the thumping bass, she grinds her ass into his crotch and he has his hand on her hips, caressing her body. My stomach is churning, but I’m excited. I feel like I’m on a first date, and in a way, I am – my husband and I are dating another woman. We talked about this, about the difficulty of communicating in such a situation. He’s going to go with the flow, and if I feel uncomfortable, I’m to text him. He’ll feel the vibration of his phone in his pocket, make an excuse, and come back to me. We’ll debrief and decompress and maybe try again another time. But there’s no way I’m stopping this now. He slips in front of her and they’re grinding together face-to-face, keeping eye contact but leaning back as they grind their hips together. Then they slip closer and he takes her in his arms and they’re dancing bachata style, she grinding into his upper thigh, him into hers, his hands on her neck and upper back. He drops her back into kolej escort a dip away from him and then pulls her back in. He’s taking her hands and spinning her away from him, and she starts to perform for him, high energy moves, her body moving sinuously with the rhythm of the bass. She moves towards him and he spins her back in, against him, and they’re moving in the bachata step again. He spins her away, and back, away and back. He leans in for a kiss, but she playfully rejects him, a smile playing across her lips. His hand is on her upper back and neck again as he dips her. I can see her grinding herself hard against his upper thigh as he draws her back up and tries again for the kiss. She relents and melts into him. I feel a shiver down my spine as I watch my husband making out with another woman. I’m nervous, but excited, like waiting in line for a roller-coaster. I can’t help but feel a twinge of his disappointment as she steps back, and I catch the word ‘bathroom’ on those lovely dark lips. He’s got his phone, holding it out for her number. She’s looking at him, taking him in. She gets a naughty look in her eyes and then she beckons with one finger. “Come.” He smiles seductively and slips his phone back into his pocket. He leads her towards the bathrooms, not holding her hand, but confident she’s following. I wonder what she and he have in mind and slip off my stool and follow them. As I move through the packed crowds towards the bathrooms I can’t help but feel the eyes of guys and girls on me.