Even though I was privately congratulating myself on coming up with such an ingenious idea, as I drove along, I could feel anxiety building within me. At the outset of this chapter of my life, I effectively had no choice. If not exactly forced, I was certainly compelled to participate, and even though deep within I knew my true character was being revealed, I could at least take some solace in the fact that it was not entirely of my own doing.

In the past weeks, however, a change had been taking place. I was being given choices and put in situations that required participation by my own free will. The element of compulsion was still present, but I was proving myself to be a more than willing participant, and I was alert enough to know it was by design.

The transition had culminated in this night, which found me driving to a rendezvous that I had set up entirely on my own. Things had certainly changed, and the most interesting aspect of that realization was that I found myself to be more excited than concerned.

Yet I could not escape the fact that I liked to be compelled, that I liked to be forced. One of the personal admissions that I had to come to terms with was that my normally dominant, type ‘A’ personality craved being suppressed. I found I enjoyed submission, more than I would have ever expected, even though I had been vaguely aware of this side of my own psyche for many years. So this evening came with an element of unease rooted in the fact that I would like to be driving down the road under the direct orders and watchful eyes of my wife, rather than through self-initiation.

But in reality, she had caused this to happen. When she had left town several days ago, her parting words before boarding her flight were clearly, by my interpretation, a challenge.

‘Try to think of something that would entertain me while I’m gone.’

I knew this was mostly wishful thinking on her part, and not a request or an order. If something arose, we would enjoy it together. If not, then we would simply enjoy each other upon her return.

However, I took it as a personal ultimatum for two reasons. First, I wanted to surprise her and to please her. If I took her simple suggestion and turned it into a meaningful reality, she would be both amused and impressed. I loved to amuse and impress her.

Secondly, I wanted to occupy her mind while she was gone. Though I had learned to channel jealousy to be a motivator and to even enjoy the discomfort it could bring, I was not able to totally defeat it. She was desirable, and I knew men liked her. She could be out every night, and I could do nothing about it. And though I seriously doubted it was happening, it was still on my mind.

As I thought this through, I had to laugh at myself. In recent months, I had seen my wife fucked on several occasions. The truth of the matter, in all honesty, was that if she got fucked, I wanted to be there. It wasn’t that I couldn’t bear to have her fucking another man; I didn’t want her to do it without me. Nonetheless, that was just as good a motive as I hurried up the highway.

For days after my wife left town, I struggled to come up with an idea she would find entertaining. There was no doubt the theme she had in mind when she made her comment. When I was having sex with someone other than her, she preferred for me to have a dick in my mouth. The obvious choice had been to get in touch with The Stud, and it was with some discomfort that I realized my cock was hardening just thinking about doing so. However, I had no idea how to contact him.

I had learned that his first name was Peyton, but had no idea of his surname. I had once called him on my wife’s cell phone, and she had called the number up from her contact listings, but the phone was with her. I thought about driving around the University, but it was a big school and the chances of a random encounter were nil. So while this idea excited me more than I cared to admit, it simply wasn’t possible.

Then the solution dawned on me: Tony. Ever since the infamous poker game, as I liked to think of it, the fact that he lived locally had been both a negative and a positive. Initially, I had been scared to death to see him at church, or other places around town, thinking that others would see us talking and somehow know he had pumped his come into both my mouth and my ass.

There was also the fear that he would talk about that night. But he had been friendly and cordial from the outset, putting me at ease. He liked to drop innuendos about my ‘special talents’, but he only did so when there was no one else around. And then several weeks ago, at the annual festival in town, he had consumed a substantial amount of beer and took advantage of his intimate knowledge of my nature, with my wife’s consent. His blatant enjoyment of that event alone told me he’d be eager to push his cock into my mouth again.

So I called him, and he agreed immediately. No hesitation whatsoever, even after I told him my complete plan. I had considered many different ways to approach this, with the thought of maximizing the impression I made on my wife. In the end, the event she choreographed in the University showers was my guide, as I came to the understanding that boldness and daring were in order.

The night I met Tony at the festival, he had me suck him off in between two pick-up trucks on a darkened side of the parking lot, so I had good reason to believe he would agree with my plan, and was not surprised when he did.

Before I left the house, I called my wife to be sure she was in her room. I told her to expect a call in about 45 minutes. I could hear the excitement in her voice as she pressed me for details, but I would not reveal a thing. For once, I held the upper hand, and I was going to enjoy it, if only briefly.

As I exited the interstate, butterflies churned in my stomach. The anxiety was almost overwhelming, and I had to fight the urge to pull off in a parking lot to re- consider. Surprising myself somewhat, I wanted to do this and did not want to take a chance on second-guessing. If I stopped, I may never get started again. So I drove on, the sweat of tension on my forehead.

Turning into the Wal-Mart parking lot, I took a quick look around. It was a huge paved area, and I had the irrelevant thought that a lot of trees must have died to create it. The lot was about a third full, with most of the vehicles clustered at one entrance, the other doorway about to be closed this time of night. Tony’s truck was sitting off to one side, directly under a light. It was a big Dodge outfitted to go off-road, sitting high on mud tires. He rolled down the window as I pulled alongside him.