I never could have imagined that this is where we would end up.

It was risky even confessing my fantasies to my wife in the first place, obviously. I'd been having repeated erotic dreams - some might even say nightmares - about her with another man, a total stranger. But rather than being upset and confused, I found that I kept waking up from these dreams feeling nothing but arousal. It was starting to get to me in a bad way, and I was having trouble getting the thought out of my mind.

There was no question where this fantasy was coming from. Even though she tried her best to be supportive and reassuring, we both knew I wasn't exactly the best sexual partner; I was constantly struggling with premature ejaculation, I couldn't keep myself hard for more than a couple of minutes, and I could count on one hand the number of times I actually managed to bring her to orgasm. It was pathetic, there's no other word for it. So was it any wonder that my mind began creating scenarios in which she was finally getting the sexual fulfillment she so desperately deserved?

Surprisingly, she wasn't upset when I told her about the dream. Or, I guess I should say, she wasn't as upset as she could have been. It was a lot to take in, and as the day went on I could tell she was trying to figure out how to feel about it. I couldn't blame her for that.

And it probably would have ended there if my dad hadn't come to stay with us.

He and my mom had gotten into another of their all-too-common fights, but this time was worse than any before. Apparently, dad had driven home drunk from a night out with his friends and crashed the car. No one had been hurt, thankfully, but the brand-new garage on my parent's property wasn't so lucky. Mom had told my dad to pack a bag, find somewhere else to stay, and not to come home until she could figure out how, or if, she could forgive him.

The next day, at our invitation, dad had showed up at our front door with a suitcase and an embarrassed smile. We exchanged the usual pleasantries and welcoming hugs, carefully avoiding the topic of why he was here in the first place. The guest room was made up and ready for him, and Dad was told to make himself at home.

Before long it was hard not to notice that Dad was paying awfully close attention to my wife. It's true, I've known that he's always had a crush on her ever since we had first started dating and I brought her to my parents' house to meet them. Dad has never exactly been a master of subtlety. But now, having him living here in our house with us, it was becoming more and more obvious that he had his eye on her. And even with her usual obliviousness to most attempts at flirting, my wife was beginning to pick on the fact.

To my surprise, that's when the topic of my cuckolding fantasies came up again, except this time my wife was the one who broached the topic. My dad, she suggested, would be the perfect guy to try it out with. I almost spit out my coffee laughing in shock. I'd never imagined my dad as her type: older, very rotund and hairy, thick bushy mustache - the very opposite of my own lanky frame and clean shaven appearance. But she made a good point; rather than trying to vet out dozens of potential strangers, my dad was someone we already both knew and trusted. Plus, there was no doubt that he was feeling some sexual frustration of his own after being temporarily kicked out of the house by his wife. He could definitely use some comfort, and we knew he had the hots for my wife anyway...

Maybe, just maybe, this could work in everyone's favor.