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When fantasies coincide. Pt. 06
Year Three. Continued.
Andrew. Forty-three.
Our two-week summer holiday this year was spent in the Cotswolds, a self-catering cottage in Stow-on-the-Wold, to be precise.
As is usual on our first evening, we visited a couple of pubs and enjoyed a meal in one of them.
On Sunday, following a day spent visiting places of interest, we again sampled a couple of pubs in the evening. Different ones this time, and it was in the second of these, situated in the market square, that we met Andrew.
I won't waste time going into detail about the way Andrew was recruited into our fun and games; suffice to say he was very keen on the idea of having sex with Jan, but less so about me being present.
Andrew was a slim, dark-haired guy of forty-three, recently divorced. By a lucky coincidence, he kept the antique shop opposite our holiday rental. In fact, he knew the couple who owned our cottage. Andrew told us he currently lived in a small flat above the shop following a ‘messy divorce', as he termed it.
Anyway, we left the pub, and while walking back to our holiday cottage, I suggested to Andrew that he show Jan over his antique shop.
"Make sure to show Jan your living quarters also," I told him, "and if my wife doesn't return to our cottage before morning, I'll understand."
Andrew thanked me for being understanding of his shyness, adding that he'd definitely feel more relaxed about ‘doing it' with Jan in my presence if he got to know my wife in private first.
So that's what we did, with Jan returning to our cottage next morning around the same time that Andrew opened the antique shop, and having been fucked twice by the guy since I'd last seen her.
Telling me all about it, Jan couldn't speak highly enough of Andrew as a lover. Thoughtful and understanding of her needs as a female, Andrew put considerable effort into pleasuring my wife with his tongue. In return, Jan licked and sucked Andrew's balls, something he hadn't previously experienced.
Pleased for my wife, I urged her to spend all her nights with Andrew, the guy himself being delighted when I communicated the idea to him a little later.
For my part, I found it highly satisfying somehow to think of my wife spending thirteen nights in Andrew's bed rather than mine, and of course enjoying loads of sex with him.
So the days passed, with Jan and I out and about sight-seeing while Andrew managed his antique shop. We then met up with him in the evenings for a drink and meal, following which Andrew and Jan went to his place for sex while I returned to spend the night alone at our holiday rental. By this time, all my wife's underwear and some of her outerwear had been transferred to his place.
By Thursday, I was growing impatient to watch them and said as much to Andrew, who promised me that Friday evening would be the time.
"We can either ‘do it' at your cottage or you can come to my place," he promised, adding that he was surprised at my willingness to go without sex while my wife was enjoying herself with him.
"It's just fine," I assured Andrew. "I'm not expecting to have sex with Jan until we're back home after our holiday. That pleasure is yours, and yours alone, for the duration of our stay in Stow."
I also admitted to Andrew that the fact of my wife sleeping in his bed
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