The thought of not being big enough for my wife had driven me mad for the last year.

Ever since she had asked me if I was 'in yet', during a night of pretty drunken sex.

After a few days of sulking, she'd finally asked me what was wrong and I'd told her.

'Look, if you want bigger, that's fine, at leaast just let me know.'

She looked terrified, clearly hurting at the idea she'd hurt me.

'No, no, of course not.' She kissed me urgently. 

'It was just the angle was wrong. And you were a bit soft, because of the booze. I love you, I love what we do in bed, you're a lovely size, a good size. Really.'

I let it go, allowed myself to be reassured. 

We got over it.

I'm pretty realistic. 

I know that most if not all girls I've slept with have had more than my five inch by four inch dick.

Including my wife. 

But the subject had been broached. 

Six months later, after another drunken sex session, my tongue loosened by alcohol, lust and adrenalin, it came out.

'Look. I know you say I'm fine, size-wise.'

She turned to look at me.

'You are, you are! I just came, didn't I?', she said, wriggling up the bed to lie next to me. 

She seemed desperate for me to feel OK, to feel reassured.

'Yes. But look...' I could hear the blood pumping in my ears. 'Just...'

She was looking at me, trying to work out what I was going to say next. 

I wasn't sure myself.

'Just...if you ever wanted to get something bigger, that's fine by me.'

The penny dropped, then hung in mid-air.

She wrinkled her brow, puzzled.

'What, a toy? A dildo?'

Oh God, I was going to have to spell it out. 

My head swam. 

I was in too far to back out now, though.

'Sure, a toy, fine, sure, if you want. But if you want another guy...a bigger guy, that's fine too. Just let me know about it. Please don't cheat.'

Her eyes grew wide like saucers.'You want me to...fuck another guy?' 

She couldn't have sounded more incredulous.

'I'm not saying I want you to', I replied. 'But, look, if you wanted to, you know, someone different, bigger, I don't know, I'd be OK with it. Just don't cheat on me, I'd hate that.'

I could see her trying to compute what I'd said. 

We were both drunk, which made it eaier to talk, but harder to understand.

'Is this...do you want to sleep with someone else?'

'No, this is about you. I want you to feel OK, to feel good. Not like you're missing out.'

She rolled over, away from me.

'OK. Look, I need to sleep now.'

Oh God, I thought. I've blown it now.

I moved over to kiss her shoulder.

'Look, I'm sorry, please don't be freaked out. It's just...I want you to be happy, to feel good, and I don't think I do that.'

She reached over without moving, and stroked my arm.

'OK, it's fine. I hear what you're saying. Don't worry. You're wonderful. But let's sleep now.'

Within minutes, she was snoring, fast asleep.

I dropped off shortly afterwards. 

The next day, I woke to find she'd left and gone to the gym. 

When we saw each other at lunchtime, she was fine - loving, close, touchy-feely, chatty. 

I hadn't offended her, that was clear. 

But it didn't feel like the right time to press it, to either apologise or to ask again.

That lasted a week. 

The following Saturday morning, we woke late and atfer the usual preliminaries, she climbed on top of me.

I loved my wife riding me. 

Her golden hair fellover her face, her large boobs swayed in front of my face. 

She'd let me play with her clit, the only way she ever came with me inside her, and she'd already cum. 

Now she was riding me hard.

She had ample hips, slightly thick thighs. 

It always felt like I wasn't filling her, or even making much impact. 

The thought made me feel inadequate and horny at the same time. 

She lowered her head to kiss the crook of my neck. It drove me wild. 

I grabbed her hips and pulled her onto my dick, thrusting myself into her wetness as hard as I could.

'Is this how you imagine me with another man? With someone else?', she whispered.

I could hardly believe my ears.

'Yes, yes', I gasped. 'Like this, or on your back, or from behind, loads of ways. Every way.'

She burrowed deeper into my neck, riding me hard.

'Good, because it's going to happen. I want it to happen.'

At this, I couldn't hold back, and started to cum. 

She moved her mouth to my ear and bit and licked it, hard, making me writhe with pleasure. 

She knew I loved my ears being bitten. 

It made me feel taken and small.

'It's going to happen, it's going to happen', she whispered, over and over again, as I came inside her.

A little later, our lovemaking over, we were lying next to each other, on our backs, staring at the ceiling. 

The silence was becoming oppressive. 

We both knew something had been said that couldn't easily be ignored.

I took a deep breath and rolled over to look at her.

'So, you're, er, you're going to do it?'

There was a long pause, as she rolled over to look me in the eye.

She looked serious, staring at me for several seconds, as if to gauge my mood.

Finally, she spoke.

'Yes. I'd like to. But only if you're OK with it. Really OK. I mean, totally OK. No changing your mind, or panicking and backing out. If you're not OK, you have to be honest with me.'

She looked deadly serious now. 

This was it, my chance to make it happen or to back out.

I jumped.

'I am 1000% OK with it and I will love you regardless of what happens.'

A smile broke out over her face, a mixture of admiration, love and bemusement. 

Again, she looked at me for what seemed like an age, searching in my face for any sign that I was bluffing.

'OK, it's happening, no going back.'

She leaned over to kiss my forehead. 

And with that, her phone rang, her best friend calling for a chat.

'Hi V, how are you? No, I'm not busy...'

She leapt up from the bed and wandered into the kitchen.

And that was that.

-

'I think I've found him.'

These were the words I'd dreaded and longed to hear for two weeks. 

She had declined my offer of helping her find the guy she was going to sleep with and told me that she had it in hand. 

Still, I was taken aback by the fact she'd actually done it. 

Another boundary broken.

'Er, can I ask about him?'

'Sure, she replied, brightly.

I was suddenly struck by how pretty she was.

'Is he...local?'

She laughed. 'Yeah, he lives next door! No, only joking, he's out in ________. So, you're not likely to see him in Tesco.' 

Again, that look – patient, kind.

My mind went blank. I had a thousand questions but they all seemed to jam my brain up. 

Seeing my confusion, she carried on, speaking slowly, taking time over every word.

'He's 30. He's single... and he's a banker.'

I'm 43, so he's younger and richer than me. Fuck. 

In fact, younger than her, she's 41. 

'And he's called Karl.' 

'Right.'

A few seconds passed.

'And I'm seeing him next weekend.'

I still didn't know how to ask what I really wanted to know. 

I needed her to tell me, but I couldn't ask.

So I sat there, dumbly staring at my wife.

A long pause.

She cocked her head on one side.

'Isn't there anything else you want to know?'

The smile was a little slyer this time. 

She wasn't going to make it easy for me.

'Yes...is he, er, good-looking? Tall?'

She tossed her head back and laughed.

'I wondered when we were going to get to this! Yes, he's nice looking,' she replied.

Silence. I had no idea what to say. 

'And he's tall, six-two, and he's fit. In the pictures, anyway.'

So, six inches taller than me. 

And she had pictures. Right. 

Another pause. 

I had literally nothing to say. 

She smiled again, a bright smile, as if she'd just won a prize and was bringing me the good news. 

Which, in a way, I guess she was.

'So, you know...lucky me!'

A lovely smile now, like she was a mother speaking patiently to her child.

I frowned. 

She rubbed my cheek. 

She could see this was hard for me.

'Are you really OK with this?' she asked.

'Yes, I'm fine', I stammered. 'Honestly. I am. It's all a bit new, very new' - I felt myself blushing bright crimson - 'but, really, honestly, I'm good.'

She got up from the table, and leaned over to kiss my neck.

'That's good, really good. Thank you so much', she whispered.

Then she stood up and pouted a little.

'But isn't there anything else you want to know? About him?', she asked, staring right at me.

This was it, she was going to make me ask her.

I could feel myself blushing, and I couldn't meet her eyes.

'Er...is he big?'

'What do you mean?', she asked, coyly. 

She was enjoying this. 

'This guy. Karl.'

Once more, the sweet look.

'What do you mean? Say what you mean, sweetheart.'

'I mean...is he big? Is his dick big?' 

How I got those words out, I will never know.

Now it was her turn to blush a little. And to smile, that patient, kind smile once more.

She spoke slowly again.

'Yes. He sent me some pictures of it. He's got an eight inch cock. So, yes, It's long. And it's thick. Like, *this* thick' - she held her fingers apart as if describing a pretty girth cucumber. 

Way thicker than me. 

My head started to spin and my throat went dry.

'So, to answer your question - Yes. He has a long and thick cock.'

Big smile now.

'So, you know...winner!'

She was beaming now. 

'Right, OK. OK', I stammered. I tried to look normal, as I came to terms with what I'd just heard.

'And one more thing.' She stood up and leaned in to whisper in my ear.

'He's black.'

And with that, she kissed the top of my head, picked up her phone and walked into the garden to call one of her friends.

I sat there for quite a while.