His

"Honey, I know this is going to be difficult, I get it, I really do," my wife, Monica, said to me when she got home in the morning from spending the night at her boyfriend's house.

"What...what's doing to be difficult?" I asked, touching her breasts.

"It's...it's not something you're going to want to hear," she said, gently pushing me back.

"What isn't?" I asked, hardly hearing her.

"Hon, wait," she said, pushing me harder. "We...we need to talk."

She had that tone, that serious tone. "Talk...talk about what?"

She sat in the chair, pointed to the bed, indicating I was to sit there. "Well, Michael thinks...I mean...he thinks it would be best for you, best for all of us really...and you know he's experienced in these things."

"What things?" I asked. 

She came over to the bed, sat next to me, touched my shoulder, rubbed it, moved her hand over my chest down to the front of my pants, rested it on my erection, acted like whatever it was she wanted to talk about was best discussed when I was horny, aroused. 

"I think you'll come around in time and see he's right," she said rubbing my erection gently.

"Right about what?" I asked, shaking.

"You know this was your idea, right? Me dating a man? I mean, I know I kind of seized on it after you suggested it, but this was what you wanted."

"Monica..." She'd started gradually with him, but he always pressed her. The occasional date night became a regular Saturday night thing then a twice a week thing, then overnights like last night.

"You must know things were moving this way," she said, stroking slowly, slowly, teasing, deliberate. 

"What...what way?"

"He thinks, and I know he's right, even if it will be difficult for you at first..."

"M...Monica..."

"I must say I'm not surprised a man like him would want it any other way, right?"

"What other way?"

"That's what I said, it has to be this way, even if it's difficult at first."

"Monica..."

"So can I tell him yes?"

"Yes?"

"Can I tell him my pussy is only for him now?"

"O...only for him?" I stammered, somehow fearing this is what she was driving at but too distracted by her hand gently rubbing me.

"I mean, you can still lick me, of course; he has no problem with that, especially, you know, after."

"After," I swallowed, thinking of all the times I licked her after she'd been with him.

"That's much different than being with me like, well, like he does. Licking me after is, well, I suppose it's an affirmation of his place...and yours."

She stood; her panty covered pussy was inches from my face and I could see wetness, the crust, I could smell her, smell him. "Can I tell him?" she asked me again, moving closer to me. "Can I tell you you agree my pussy is his?"

Her hand was on the back of my head, implicitly ready to pull my face to her soiled panties if I agreed. 

"Y...yes," I blurted out.

"Oh, honey," she said, "you're such a good boy."

She pulled me to her, my reward for my sacrifice.