Sema’s Secret Desires: A Real-Life Shared Passion Story
Hello, my name is Sema. Before marrying my husband Tayfun, we worked at the same company. We quickly warmed up to each other and became close. Going out for dinner, movies, and entertainment after work almost became routine. After a while, our relationship became serious, and we got married.
I had been used to men’s attention since middle school, being blonde with blue eyes and a somewhat flirtatious personality. But the truth is, I was the type to show but not give. With one or two boyfriends, things had gone as far as the bed, but I had never let them take my clothes off completely. You know, childish rubbing. It never went beyond that. In short, when we got married, I was still a virgin.
When Tayfun found out, he was very surprised. I was surprised at his surprise. I asked him why he thought otherwise. He said, “Well, you were always surrounded by admirers, and you flirted with almost everyone. I thought you must have been with at least a few of them.”
Tayfun was very open-minded about marriage, fidelity, and jealousy. Honestly, I had never met a man so confident and relaxed, and I didn’t think it was even possible. He never minded men staring at me, never interfered with my miniskirts or low-cut tops, and would even say, “Wear it, it looks great on you.”
On our honeymoon at a five-star resort in Antalya, all the foreign women were sunbathing topless. I admired them, thinking how nice it must be not to have bikini lines on your shoulders. But I didn’t have the courage to take off my top. Even though Tayfun said, “If you want, you can take yours off too,” I didn’t. The way I was raised made it impossible. I wanted to, but I couldn’t. Something inside me was holding me back. Eventually, Tayfun nearly forced me to take it off. I was uneasy, covering my face with a large straw hat, and continued sunbathing. After a couple of days, I got used to it and began walking around the beach topless with confidence.
When I went to the bar for a drink, I noticed how the men’s eyes followed my breasts with obvious desire, and I began to enjoy it. From that moment on, I never wore a bikini top again.
Tayfun was disciplined, hardworking, and very successful in his career. He quickly advanced, and when a very lucrative offer came from another company, he switched. We were now in different workplaces, but my office was his former workplace, so I knew everyone, and we often met through mutual friends. At that time, the person I saw most often was Berrin. She would sometimes even stay over at our place. She was engaged, and her fiancé was handsome, charismatic, ran his own business, and earned well. They eventually married and continued living on our street. We became close with their family.
Tayfun often traveled abroad for work. One evening, the doorbell rang while he was away. It was Berrin’s husband, Mustafa. Since we were on casual terms, I invited him in naturally. I told him Tayfun was traveling. “Ah, so it’s just the two of us,” he said. Berrin was staying at her mother’s that night. We opened a bottle of champagne and made Kir Royales with cherry syrup. As we drank, our conversation deepened. At one point, we both fell silent.
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Then, unexpectedly, Mustafa leaned in and kissed me. I froze. He kissed passionately. I didn’t resist, nor did I push him away. I was like a statue. My lack of reaction seemed to encourage him, and he held my head and pressed his lips harder. I involuntarily began responding. Mustafa grew bolder, his hands roaming my back, neck, and hips. His strong arms pulled me close. I could feel his arousal pressing against me. I was soaking wet, my fluids dripping down my legs. When he slipped his hand inside my blouse and touched my breasts, I snapped out of it. I stopped him, lightly pushed his hand away, and said, “Don’t.” He paused, looking into my eyes. I whispered, “Let go of my hand.” He moved his hand under my skirt. I tried to resist but couldn’t stop him from touching my wetness. He said, “See, you want this too.” I tried to tense up and resist, but I could feel my defenses fading. He stroked my hair, trying to persuade me. My head spun. Our breathing slowed, we calmed, and then he suddenly kissed me again. I could no longer resist. He had already removed my blouse and his hands were between my legs. My knees trembled; I collapsed into his arms. Mustafa, as if expecting this, lifted me and carried me to the bed. We made love. In an instant, we were both naked. My legs clenched tightly, but he finally entered me. I screamed in pleasure. We climaxed multiple times that night until Mustafa left at sunrise. I slept until noon, still shocked. I quickly cleaned the apartment, washing sheets and clothes, scrubbing myself in the shower, and prepared for Tayfun, who was returning from his trip. He came back with gifts as always. I loved him dearly and was full of guilt.
Later, Berrin and I had a falling out over a trivial argument, and we stopped seeing each other. Tayfun received his bonus that year, and we bought a house. A few months later, I became pregnant and left work. Tayfun insisted I didn’t need to return, and I happily agreed. I became a mother and a housewife. Tayfun earned well, showered us with love and gifts, and everything felt perfect.
One day, in bed, Tayfun asked if I ever had the desire to be with another man, given all my admirers. I was shocked and said absolutely not. This question made me uneasy for a long time. Whenever it came up, I would respond defensively out of guilt. Over time, I realized my fears were unfounded. Tayfun would tell me he imagined me with other men, and while I didn’t protest, I never fully believed him. It excited me as a fantasy, but reality was different.
At the pool, my regular masseur was highly skilled, his fingers working magic. One day after swimming, while thinking about my previous night’s passionate encounter with Tayfun, I lay on the massage table, relaxed. His hands strayed to my sensitive areas, and I shivered with pleasure. I didn’t resist. He gradually became bolder, eventually touching me explicitly. I silently gave in. When I finally let him, he mounted me and we had sex. We both climaxed quickly. I told him to leave before someone saw and rushed into the shower.
I never told Tayfun about this. I quit the pool, not wanting it to become a habit. I loved my husband and family and was shocked at my own actions. I vowed never to repeat such things.
Tayfun frequently shared his fantasies during sex, and we had fiery sessions. But over time, I failed to keep my vow. Similar encounters happened with a few men, including the masseur. I never told Tayfun. Whenever he insisted on living out our fantasies, I refused, insisting they remain fantasies. Seven years passed this way.
One day, Tayfun’s best friend from school, Melih, came to town for a job interview. I had never met him, but Tayfun often spoke about him. He had divorced a year prior and was considering relocating if things worked out.
Tayfun wanted me to look beautiful and sexy to impress his friend. At the airport, Melih’s admiration was obvious. I, naturally flirtatious, responded. We drank champagne at home, reminiscing. As the night progressed, Melih’s eyes lingered on my chest and legs. Tayfun slightly opened my blouse to make it easier, and I allowed it. Eventually, Melih exclaimed he had been single for months and hadn’t touched a woman. Tayfun invited him to join, and as if expecting it, Melih leapt to my side. In an instant, both Tayfun and Melih began kissing and touching me. I didn’t resist. We made love until dawn.
That weekend, Melih stayed with us, and for three months, we had sex almost every night. When he finally moved out, it left a void, though we continued meeting at least once or twice a week. Tayfun traveled for work, Melih stayed, and we carried on for two years. Eventually, Melih was relocated abroad, and our encounters ended.
After Melih, there were many other men. Now, I no longer needed secrecy. But I realized one-night stands were thrilling but I preferred consistent partners like Melih. I believe I am naturally monogamous.
I always consider myself incredibly lucky. I have two wonderful children, a husband who loves me fiercely and adores our family. I wish every woman could have this happiness.
Sema
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