INTRODUCTION

 

I have told this story once before-and when I dusted it off recently I realized I had left much of the story out-which was not enough reason to reissue an updated edition-but since that first edition was published Ellen remembered more of her evenings that she had not told mee and as she realized that I was accepting of her new slutty lifestyle she confessed details she had held back at the time. That only got me started to delve into what the real story was, and I picked up bits here and there in conversations with her lovers and with our friend Mark.

And in the first version I did not get into Mark at all, and his bearing on our story-and to be honest I didn't explain everything about what I was doing to encourage and hasten things along.

Ellen and I collaborated on the first version of this book, I would write the date from my standpoint, she from hers, and after the book was published, she began to confess things she had held back-and I did the same. It took some time to get beyond that, some counseling from a professional didn't hurt, so what you will find here is the core story of "10 Dates for My Wife" but as you will discover as you read there is basically another book around that core.

We wrote the first version because other than Mark or her lovers who were involved, we had not one we could talk to about our newly discovered erotic lifestyle. But by changing our real names and published our story in book form, we could tell our story to others. That is the same reason for us doing this updated, corrected, and more truthful version.

Here is a more accurate story of what happened when my wife explored the dating life she had missed.

And ours was a story that did not end-and you will find at what was the end of the first edition was only a pause before a continuation of what happened after the first book ended.

 

 

Chapter 1

 

Looking back on it I don't know what it was that initiated what I would later call "the Great Experiment". Maybe it was the liquor of which we had consumed far too much that night, it could have been my loud overbearing friend, or my wife's challenging attitude when someone disagrees with her. Or it may have been my beautiful wife turning 40 and worrying a about men still finding her attractive. It might have been me visiting too many porn sites and discovering the erotic stories that I often found there.

What happened may have been a little bit of all of that coming together on one drunken moment that spiraled out of control. Whether that spiral was up or down will depend on who you talk to and their mood at the time. Both Ellen and I have described what happened in both positive and negative spirals. But it continues, so the negative spirals have not been all that negative, I guess.

One of my favorite erotic stories is the story of a guy whose wife went on 10 dates with other guys. As I read it the first time, I was thinking it was farfetched-but I turned on to it as well. I reread it several times, and the plot line would bump into my consciousness regularly.

I had no idea at the time that in a couple of months I would be living such a story.

It started after a ballgame we had watched at a local sports bar where we bumped into my old friend, Mark, whose wife had been killed in an auto accident a couple of years earlier. While she was alive, the four of us hung around together and were close. Dinners, vacations together, and long summer afternoons with drinks around the pool., When Shanna died, we tried to be there for him, at first, but things were different. We went in different directions.

Within a couple of months Mark sold their home on the North side and moved to a townhome on the South perimeter of Nashville. There he drifted away to a new circle of friends. It had been over a year since we had seen him, but after bumping into him at the big box sporting goods store Ellen insisted that we get together for a drink-for old time's sake.

 

Chapter 2

 

MARK AND SHANNA

 

Shanna and Ellen met at their gym, about the same age, both in great shape and the babes of the gym. They were destined to be great friends-or rivals. They chose to be friends, and as their friendship bloomed and they learned Mark and I had a lot in common, we soon became a foursome for dinners once a week, beers on Sunday afternoons around the pool in the summer. We even took a vacation together to the beach.

It was at the beach that Mark and I first talked about the things our wives had in common: beauty, personality, taut bodies, and of course our luck in having them as wives.

There were two big differences between our wives, one was Ellen is a brunette while Shanna was a light brown almost blond haired woman. The other difference became evident on our vacation, in how Shanna dressed away from home versus how modest my shy Ellen dressed.

Mark and I had opted for setting up the beach chairs, umbrella, and beers while the ladies took a morning trip to the surf shop to check out the new swimsuits. Shanna came back with her navel pierced-Ellen would hear none of it. Shanna had a skimpy bikini that was little more than a few triangles of cloth and string, Ellen went for the fully covering one piece.

The two wives moved their chairs closer to the water, and as we looked toward the ocean as we drank our beers, our wives on their backs in the sun, Shanna pushed the sides of her bikini top even narrower, so narrow that from my vantage point I could see a tiny bit of areola. Mark saw me staring.
"Shanna hates tan lines. If it was legal here she'd go topless."

"Ellen would never do that," I said.

"Shanna used to be like that too, but she changed." I perked up.

"What changed?"

"A lot of the change was her, some was my encouragement, and a big part was things falling into place."

"How did you encourage?" I asked.

"Another time," Mark interrupted, causing me look up to see Ellen closing ono the umbrella.

"I need a couple of waters," she said, kneeling at the cooler. She looked back and forth at us. "Did I interrupt anything? You stopped talking when I got close," she said to Mark.

"A filthy joke about girls and dogs," Mark laughed. He loved to taunt Ellen when he could.

"Thank you for sparing me that," Ellen said, turning back toward Shanna.

"You're welcome," Mark said, grinning at me. When she was out of hearing he said, in a lower voice. "To answer your question I started gradually, pornos, some role playing, baby steps, and what she discovered, as I did, was that every time she did something bolder, more out of her comfort zone, the hotter it was between us. I love her showing off her body, letting other men see what I have at home all the time. It is a rush. It started to change when she realized that showing off was a rush for her too."

"Like I said, Ellen would never do that."

"I used to say that to. Just be looking for the right opportunity my friend." The women were folding their chairs. "To be continued another time," Mark said. Only there was not another time. The Thursday after we returned from vacation a drunk driver hit Shanna head on, and she was dead on arrival at the hospital. They said later she never knew what hit her and had died in no pain.

Mark had enough pain for the both of them. Despite our best efforts to comfort him, he would have none of it. He drank too much, became reclusive, and a couple of months later knocked on my door and asked my help in moving.

"Too many memories in the house," he said. "I'm moving to the other side of town."

Being an hour away, and I guess we reminded him of our good times with he and Shanna, and we didn't see each other. The calls, texts, and emails became less and less, and neither Ellen nor I noticed when his posts stopped appearing on our Facebook listings.

When we bumped into him now, he had slimmed down, looked well, fashionably dressed, and happy. He quickly accepted our invitation that very night. And we were a celebration.

 

***

 

We were having our mini-reunion and were drunk, so drunk we were not even trying to sober up. I had already asked the bartender to be ready to call a cab or summon an Uber with my phone. We arranged to leave the car in their parking lot overnight but were going to drink until we closed the place.

Over the hours that night we had run through the updates on all the old friends, and Ellen asked Mark, "So how do you like single life?"

I knew what lay behind that. It was a constant concern of hers lately.

I had met and married Ellen a few weeks after her high school graduation, and more than once she had mentioned how she sometimes regretted not having an extensive dating life. A couple of her close cousins that were downright promiscuous only added to her curiosity.

Ellen had been popular, a cheerleader, on the Homecoming Court, and dated a couple of guys briefly before meeting me. I met her during her Junior year in high school and was smitten. I didn't want to let her get away and she didn't.

We were inseparable and after I took her cherry after four long months of trying, I was more convinced we were destined by the fates to be together forever, with the thought of other men or women never entering our minds.

That was my take. Ellen's was different. She distanced herself at times, accused me of smothering her, and while I always thought she was faithful she never stopped being a flirt, or lessened her curiosity about other men.

"It's unbelievable," he said. "I loved Shanna very much and I loved being married to her, but I don't know if I would ever get married again-at least anytime soon."

"Why's that?" she asked, leaning forward.

"It is fun," he said, "the variety of keeping company women with different points of view, of liking and talking about different things, just the array of possibilities with every new date."

"You're just saying that," Ellen persisted. "I saw how happy you were when you were married."

"I was happy, but I have to admit I'm having more fun now," Mark said. He recognized the challenge in her voice and shot back. "But I'm basing that on real experience and not just what I think." Mark knew about our early marriage and I saw where this was going and tried to head it off.

"Hey, what about..." It didn't work.

"BULLSHIT," Ellen said, louder, tossing back the last of her margarita. She has been known to get mean drunk when she is hitting the tequila hard.

"Don't bullshit me," Mark said. "If you had dated a lot of different guys, you'd agree with me."

"I would not." She had her hackles up now.

"Prove it," Mark said.

"I wish I had, and I'd shut you up," Ellen said in a determined tone.

Mark looked at me. I squirmed a bit. I was content to stay out of this exchange.

"Why don't you?" he said.

"What?" Ellen said.

"Prove it," Mark responded. "I bet if you went on only 10 dates you would have a whole new view of how much more fun it is to be single rather than married-I bet you'd not want to stop!"

 

 

Chapter 3

 

With the "10 Dates" reference I remembered I had forwarded the link of the 10-date story to Mark. After he was widowed, when we were still staying in touch via email, we had shared favorite porn links.

I also remembered printing that story off and having Ellen read it aloud while on our drive to the beach this year to get her hot and horny by the time we got there. It had worked. I don't think for a moment that either of them had that story in mind when they were taunting each other-but I do think the 10-date figure was subliminal, stuck in the back recesses of their mind and jerked forward in the tension of the moment.

"Bet what?" she said, and I watched the wheels turning. Ellen has never been able to resist a challenge or dare. In my mind I thought, Oh, shit, here it come.

"Tell you what," he said, "I bet you will agree with me after you go on 10 dates. I'll make it easy for you, I'll even arrange the dates with single friends of mine, so you don't have to bar hop."

"Hey, wait a damn min..." I interrupted but I realized I was not in the conversation.

"I win you cut my grass and keep my yard landscaped for a year free," she countered.

Mark is a consultant, but also owns a yard service in which he employs college kids in the summers for cutting yards, selling fireplace equipment and firewood in the winters.

"Yes, and you lose you clean my house for a year."

"Done!" they both said and shook hands.

"One of us quits? Say you don't go on all 10 dates? I automatically win, agreed?" he said.

"Agreed," my wife said. "I'm not a quitter." They quickly wrote down the specifics on a napkin which they both signed.

 

***

 

I wrote it off as drunken talk, nothing anyone would remember the next morning. I was wrong. She was more sober than I thought. The next morning in a dimmed room sipping Bloody Mary's I asked Ellen, "Do you know what you bet last night?"

"Yes," she said a bit sheepishly, "I was drunk. Mark was drunk too."

"Well I think with everyone sober that no one would expect you to honor your bet."

The phone interrupted our conversation. I saw it was Mark. "She going to welsh on the bet?" he asked before I even said hello.

"Everyone was drunk, it doesn't count," I countered.

Ellen looked over at me, realizing who was calling. "What's he saying?" she demanded.

"Bullshit," Mark said in my ear. "I've already got her lined up for her first date Wednesday night. He is a good friend and he wants to take her to the off-Broadway play touring at the theater downtown. It's only playing Wednesday night."

I paused. She had been wanting to go to that play, had mentioned it several times and I really hated Broadway plays. I handed the phone to her.

"We were drunk," she repeated, "but I'm not one to welsh on a bet." When Mark mentioned the play, I saw her expression change, she was becoming intrigued. "Well, I don't know. "Mark must have been putting his full press on. She held her hand over the receiver.

"You want to go to the play?" she asked. "I know how much you hate them."

"No," I answered. "And if that is the date, go on and have a good time, you have my permission." I was relieved that I did not have to go. "But you have to come straight home," I said, trying to sound father-like.

"OK," she said into the phone, nodding, "alright, bye" she said, hanging the phone up and exhaling a long breath. "Wow. I can't believe I just did that."

She looked up at me waiting for my comment, but I remained silent. "You really all right with this?" she said.

"Taking you to an expensive play that I don't want to see? No. I don't have a problem with it. It's not like you're going out to get laid." I paused. "Right?"

"Right," she smiled back, "You don't want me to get laid." She sat there in thought for a moment, the got up and bounced into the kitchen, saying softly in a sing-song voice, "I'm going on a daattee."

 

***

 

DES: What I didn't say before in the first telling:

The day after Mark announced the date he had set up for Ellen, he called me at work. "You cool with this?" he asked.

"I don't know, should I not be?" I asked.

"Remember that time on the beach when you said you wished Ellen would dress and act more adventurous, like Shanna did?"

"Yes, I said that."

"This is how it can start," Mark said. "Just stand back, encourage, end enjoy the change right before your eyes."

"You seem sure of yourself," I said.

"I know shy women; I was married to one. I sense something in Ellen that is smoldering to emerge, something that once it's emerges is going to put your sex life on a plane you never imagined."

"No man could argue with that."

"Lay back and let me guide things a while. If you start feeling freaky, call me."

"Fair enough," I said.