My father always said it wasn't a real threesome unless somebody cried. He was probably right.
I was happy to let another man pleasure my wife, because it would have been selfish of me to suggest having two women when there's only one of me.
I didn't mind that she took out an advert to find the closest look-a-like to her first husband, because she's never tried to hide the fact that she loved him more than she loves me, and I respect her honesty. It's one of the first things that attracted me to her. He died of cancer in their first year of marriage, so it's understandable that she's never recovered. He was snatched away in the prime of their love.
Plus, from what she tells me, I'm only half the man he was, so must have been a great guy, not the kind of person you can just get over with another marriage.
The chap we brought in was a really nice fella and he was very sensitive to my wife's needs. He let her call him Steve, which was the name of her first husband and she asked him to wear her husband's clothes. She still had all of them. I kind of like not having space in the wardrobe, because when you live out of a suitcase you don't have to pack when you go on holiday.
I thought it would be a nice gesture to not get in the bed with them and she thought so too. It was like a reunion of sorts and they didn't need me spoiling the moment.
I must admit that I did shed a few tears when they were really going at it and she asked me to leave the room, but they were probably just tears of joy from seeing her so happy. No, they must have been.