This is a revised version of a previously published piece with a new title to avoid confusion with another author’s story. Thanks for all your feedback and encouragement. I’m hoping to get round to part two when life allows.
– – – – –
“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.”
There was the slightest tremor in Sandi’s voice as she spoke. She was sitting in front of the bedroom mirror applying her mascara, carefully drawing the brush over her lashes.
“I know,” I said. “It feels kinda surreal.”
It had been a long time since I’d last seen my wife getting ready to go out. The succession of pandemic-inflicted lockdowns over the past year had put a serious dent in our social life. We’d been married close to nine years, and in that time we’d had our ups and downs: moved homes, lost and started jobs, had our daughter Erin and her little brother Robbie. But the last 12 months had been by far the strangest and most stressful.
The gym where Sandi worked as a personal trainer had shut down and looked unlikely to reopen. The web design firm I worked for had sent all its employees home, and while there was still plenty of work to keep me busy, our living room had abruptly turned into my office. Suddenly we had found ourselves confined to our house with only each other for company.
Perhaps it was the need to relieve some pressure, or the fact that suddenly I found myself spending 24 hours a day in the company of a stunningly beautiful woman, but Sandi and I had become more physically intimate than we’d ever been before. It wasn’t that our sex life had ever been lacking, but suddenly we found ourselves falling into bed at every opportunity. As soon the kids were off to sleep, we’d be in our bedroom practically clawing at one another’s clothes.
It wasn’t just that we were playing around more often, either. For some reason we’d unlocked new levels of openness and creativity in the bedroom. It seemed like any kind of self-consciousness or uncertainty about expressing our desires had evaporated, and our conversations about the things we wanted to try together had been almost as hot as our actual sex. After Sandi had whispered in my ear one afternoon that she’d always wanted to be tied up or handcuffed, I’d immediately logged into an online sex shop and bought a collection of toys and restraints. Seeing her writhing and thrashing with her hands cuffed to the headboard while I licked her to a shuddering climax was the most erotically charged thing I’d ever experienced.
It felt like anything was on the table, and we shared ideas and enthusiastically experimented with one another until one morning over breakfast, I decided to open up about an idea that had been increasingly occupying my thoughts. I was nervous, though. In spite of all our recent exploration, I knew this was pushing into new territory.
“Baby, can I ask you something?”
“Hm?” Sandi mumbled through a mouthful of toast. God, even first thing in the morning, wearing one of my faded old band T-shirts and a pair of pyjama trousers she looked incredible.
I swallowed, my throat suddenly feeling dry and tight.
“Have you ever thought about involving someone else?”
Her smile broadened, her expression taking on an air of naughtiness that made my heart skip a beat.
“You mean, like, a threesome? I thought with the way we’ve been going at it lately you wouldn’t have the energy to satisfy another woman.”
“Well, maybe not quite like that.”
“Oh,” she laughed. “So you want to see some girl-girl action? Typical man.”
“No!” I sputtered. This wasn’t going well. “I mean, that would be… But it’s not…”
“Then what do you…” Her smile broadened into a full-on grin. “Oh my God, you’re talking about another guy, aren’t you?”
I felt my cheeks burn and redden.
“Hey,” Sandi reassured me, “it’s ok. That’s a really common fantasy. You think I haven’t thought about it as well? Being the centre of attention for two hot men?”
As she spoke she laid a hand lightly on my chest. I was sure she could feel my heart hammering.
“Two sets of hands caressing and touching me all over my body? Two hot, hungry mouths to kiss?”
She leaned close and slid her hand slowly towards my belt line, knowing exactly the effect that her words would have on me.
“That sounds so good,” I almost groaned. “But it’s not exactly what I had in mind.”
She paused.
“What, then?”
“If you’re really not into it, it’s ok. I just thought…”
“You know you can tell me anything. I’m not going to get angry or laugh at you.”
“Well, you haven’t heard it yet.”
She gave me a faux-serious scowl.
“Well my coffee’s getting cold waiting. Come on, you can’t leave me in suspense!”
“Ok,” I breathed. “I was thinking maybe you could be involved with someone else. Just you. Like, without me.”
Sandi said nothing. Her expression was flat, empty. I felt my stomach drop through the floor. Had I shocked her? Insulted her?
“I’m not sure I…” she began. But just then the kids picked the worst possible moment to barge into the kitchen embroiled in a screaming argument about which cartoon to watch on Netflix.
We spent the rest of the day going about what had become our new routine. Sandi took a set of kettlebells into the back garden and had a workout in the morning sun. I went back and forth with a client making tweaks to their company’s new online store. But for all the apparent normality, there was a blanket of tension over the house. I kept my head buried in the code I was working on, and Sandi barely spoke to me, giving me room to focus on the job. I couldn’t shake the fear that I’d put my foot in it. Badly.
It wasn’t until that evening that we spoke again properly. The kids were in bed and I’d make a chicken casserole for our dinner. We were eating in awkward silence at the kitchen table until Sandi said: “I was sort of taken aback by what you told me earlier.”
I swallowed a mouthful and took a deep breath.
“I’m really sorry if I upset you.”
“Not upset, no. I just really wasn’t expecting something like that. I didn’t know what to think. I still don’t, to be honest.”
“I guess I did kind of spring it on you.”
“I just don’t understand, Mike. Why would you want me to…” Her voice dropped as though there were anyone around to overhear us. “Why would you want me to have sex with another guy if you weren’t involved? What would even be in it for you?”
“I don’t even fully understand it myself,” I admitted. “I don’t know where this idea came from, but it’s been growing for a long time. I guess part of it is that I really get off on the idea of your pleasure, and the idea that that could come from me or from someone else is weirdly exciting for me.
“And then there’s the fact that it seems so naughty. It’s not something I’m supposed to be remotely ok with – the idea of you being with someone else. So actively encouraging it feels, I don’t know, just really hot.”
“But you wouldn’t feel jealous?” she asked.
“I can’t know that,” I told her. “There’s every possibility that if you actually did it, I might find that the reality was nothing like the idea. But the idea is such a turn-on.”
She looked down at her plate.
“I think what worries me is that maybe this means you don’t care all that much about me. If you’re happy for me to go out and sleep with someone else, maybe I don’t mean a whole lot to you.”
“Baby, no!” I said. “That’s the last idea I want you to have in your head. You mean the world to me. I love the life we’ve built together. I love how you help me get through all the bullshit that’s going on right now. If I didn’t have you in my life, I honestly don’t know what I would do.”
She gave me a thin half-smile. “I guess if we can be locked in the house for months on end with nothing to do and nowhere to go, and we haven’t gone completely crazy, we’ve passed some kind of test.”
For a long moment neither of us said anything.
“I’m not saying it’s something I can be comfortable with, and I’m not saying it’s something that’s ever necessarily going to happen,” Sandi told me. “But I’m not angry with you for telling me about it. I’m glad you felt like you could.”
When we made love that night, it was simple. No toys, outfits or elaborate roleplay scenarios. But as my wife drifted off to sleep afterwards with her head resting on my chest, I felt like a weight had been lifted from me.
—
In the next few weeks I was surprised by how dedicatedly Sandi attempted to understand my fantasy. We sent each other links to everything from magazine articles to forum discussion threads talking about swinging, polyamory and open relationships. It turned out there were plenty of guys in my position: husbands who loved their wives, but got off on the idea of them being with other men. Some of what people said online resonated with me, and it was reassuring to feel like I wasn’t some kind of freak. But others seemed to want completely different things. Some enjoyed being humiliated by their wives, wanting to be told how much better their lovers were than them in bed. Others went to sex clubs or orgies and watched their partners with multiple men. Those things might feel fantastic for other couples, but they held no appeal for me.
“What exactly do you want, then?” Sandi asked me one day in a text message. Even sitting in the same room, we’d worked out that it was the best way to talk privately while we were in parenting mode.
“I don’t know. I guess just that you’d meet someone and be into them.”
“Like in a bar or something? LONG time since that’s happened.”
“Long time since you’ve been looking.”
“Well I don’t think many guys would be interested.”
I looked over at her and drank in her heart-shaped face, her rounded cheekbones, her almond-curved eyes and her luscious brunette hair. It was the face I’d fallen in love with years ago, and if anything she was even more beautiful to me today. Her figure was strong, athletic – not the emaciated look that fashion magazines held up as the supposed feminine ideal. Not for the first time, I felt a sense of wonder that she’d somehow ended up with me.
“Are you kidding me?” I texted back. “Any guy in his right mind would kill for a chance with you.”
“I’m glad you think so :-p”
“I’m serious, you would get so much attention.”
“Not likely. And anyway, all the bars and clubs and places that are remotely fun are closed.”
“What about online dating?”
“Huh? What about it?”
“You could set up a profile.”
She looked up at me from her phone before returning her attention to the screen.
“I didn’t say I wanted to date guys.”
“I wasn’t saying you should, but it would prove how many found you attractive. You’d get tonnes of interest.”
“Sure. From some weirdo living in his mum’s basement.”
“Will you stop putting yourself down? I bet if you did it you’d get at least five NON-WEIRD guys messaging you within 24 hours.”
“You bet?”
“Absolutely.”
“What do you bet?”
“Full 30-minute foot rub.”
I smiled. Sandi could never turn down a foot massage.
“Full half hour?”
“Yep.”
“Then it’s a bet.”
That night I helped her put together an online dating profile, taking a photo for her to upload and helping her to craft a succinct tagline and bio. The idea of other men looking at her, wanting her, being struck by her beauty, was a real thrill. The fact that I was actively participating only made it stronger.
When we woke up the next morning, I had already won the bet. 23 men had requested to message Sandi, and after a thorough joint examination we agreed that only five of them could justifiably be considered “weird.” I gave her her foot massage anyway.
“So how does it feel to know these guys all think you’re sexy?” I asked as I focused on the little hollow at the back of her ankle. Years of experience had taught me it was a particularly sensitive spot, and she leaned back and closed her eyes, giving a long, contented sigh.
“I’m not gonna lie, it is kind of a boost,” she said. “It’s been years since I thought of myself that way – as someone people would, you know, want. It’s fun to think that they’re looking at my photo and thinking: ‘Yes, please.’ . Although I wouldn’t be interested in most of them.”
“Most of them?”
“Yeah. Short hair, no ink, dressed like they’re on their way to a meeting at their bank. You know I like my men a little rugged. I married you, didn’t I?”
“You really think I’m rugged? I’d have gone with plain old ‘scruffy.'”
“Oh shut up.”
“But does that mean there are some you are interested in?”
She blushed and gave a little laugh.
“Maybe.”
“So are you going to talk to them?”
“Hey, this was just supposed to be a bet, remember?”
“Yeah, and I was supposed to have won, but here I am giving you your prize anyway.”
“And what am I supposed to say to them? ‘Hey, just so you know, I’m actually married?'”
“Sure. Maybe it’ll be a deal breaker for some of them. But you’ve got a bunch of guys who think you’re hot, and I absolutely cannot blame them for that. It sounds like some of them maybe do it for you as well, and even if you decide you don’t want to take things further, there’s no harm done if you’re just chatting.”
She flexed her toes and smiled at me.
“You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?”
Over the next few weeks Sandi exchanged messages with three or four men. Whenever her phone beeped and she picked it up with an eager smile, it gave me a rush of arousal. I loved seeing the self-confidence she found in being desired. One night after a particularly enthusiastic session in the bedroom, we were lazily cuddling when she turned serious.
“Mike, I think there might be something with one of the guys I met online.”
She sounded as scared and uncertain as I had when I’d first broached my interest in the idea, and I hugged her closer and gave her a goofy, excited grin.
“Really? You think you want to meet him?”
“Well, yeah. When it’s safe to meet people again. Is that ok?”
My sudden hardness pressed against her thigh and she laughed.
“I guess I can take that as a yes?”
After our second round, she showed me his profile. His name was Brandon. His picture showed a man with shoulder-length chestnut brown hair, deep brown eyes and a strong, defined jaw with a few days’ worth of stubble. He looked to be in good shape, and while his picture only showed his head and upper torso, his chest and shoulders looked well developed.
“I can see what you like about him,” I said, impressed. “If I were you, I’d feel the same way.”
Brandon lived in our city, worked as a medical lab technician by day and played guitar in a rock band in his spare time. It was just for fun, he said, although they played occasional shows at a couple of local bars. He and Sandi had talked about their interests, their background and, of course, how the lockdown had affected their lives. She’d told him early in their conversation that she was married and that I knew about and encouraged her explorations. He had been surprised but intrigued. Their talk hadn’t turned overtly sexual, it was more flirtatious and friendly.
They kept up their conversation for weeks while the country rolled out a long-awaited mass vaccination programme. As a medical worker, Brandon was one of the first to receive the vaccine. We got ours a short while later, and it was a relief to see the world starting to come back to something resembling normality.
“So when are you going to meet him?” I asked Sandi as we lay lazily entangled on the couch one night watching TV.
She smiled at me.
“Wow, you really are ok with this, aren’t you?”
“Even more than I thought I would be. When you guys are messaging back and forth you have this kind of happy glow. And you always come to bed feeling especially playful.”
“Actually meeting him, though?” She frowned. “That’s a big step. What if someone we know sees me out on a… on a date? With someone who isn’t you?”
“Then you’re catching up with an old friend. It’s not like it’s any of their business anyway.”
“And what if we go ahead with this and you realise you’re really not happy with it? I would hate to hurt you.”
“I’m kinda worried about that, too,” I admitted. “And I know how much you’ve been enjoying talking to Brandon. I would feel bad if I snatched that away from you because I started feeling insecure.”
“That doesn’t matter,” she said. “If either of us feels unhappy or uncomfortable, we just stop. The only thing that really matters is you and me.”
She stretched out her arm and laid her hand on top of mine. I looked at our fingers intertwined, our wedding rings glinting in the light.
“Ok then,” I said, my chest tightening. “Why don’t you ask him?”
—
Brandon didn’t need much persuasion. He and Sandi arranged to meet at a little Italian place in the west end of the city that Friday evening. My sense of anticipation grew with each passing day, and now as I watched her getting ready, I was abuzz with adrenaline.
“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.”
“I know, it seems kinda surreal.”
She was wearing a tight-fitting knee-length black dress with round metal studs around the neckline. Her eyes were smokey and seductive with eyeshadow.
“You look incredible.”
“I feel like a nervous wreck. Are you sure you’re ok with this?”
Two conflicting sides of my brain screamed at me. Yes! I wanted this with a burning intensity that I’d never felt before in my life. No! This was a stupid idea. This was the woman I loved, why was I taking this kind of risk with the relationship that meant everything to me? I took a deep, slow, careful breath, letting the rising anxiety peak and fade into the background.
“It’s just like you said, baby,” I told her. “What matters is you and me. I want you to go out tonight and enjoy yourself. But if this is a bad experience for either of us, then we’re out. All you need to think about tonight is going out and enjoying yourself with an attractive guy.”
“This is so weird,” she said. “Part of me is so excited about tonight, part of me says this is crazy. I mean, he seems clever and funny and interesting, but what if I get there and he’s nothing like that? Or what if my brain goes blank and I can’t think of anything to say and look like an idiot? There are so many ways this could all go wrong.”
I laid my hands gently on her shoulders and looked her squarely in the eyes.
“Honey,” I said with all the gravity and sincerity I could summon, “whatever else happens tonight, I want you to know one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“They’re meant to do a great chilli prawn linguine.”
She laughed, and the tension in the room evaporated.
“You always know how to make me laugh,” she said. “That’s one of the reasons I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
She leaned into me, her eyes half closed and her lips only barely parted. I pressed mine to hers, and we shared a slow, tender kiss. I held her tight against my body, breathed in the scent of her perfume. She was perfect, and this was a perfect moment.
The taxi horn blared outside.
“Oh wow, I have to go!”
I helped her on with her coat and followed her down the stairs. As she headed out of the door, she fired off a series of reminders.
“The kids can’t be up past half eight, even on a Friday. And there’s some leftover roast beef in the fridge. And you can call me on my mobile if anything happens while I’m gone.”
“I know, honey. I’m your husband, not the babysitter.”
She was half way down the garden path now, checking through her bag for her mobile, purse and keys.
“I love you,” she called, “have a good night.”
“You too, baby,” I whispered as the taxi pulled away.
—
The next few hours were a confusing barrage of emotions. I busied myself getting the kids to sleep and tidying things that didn’t actually need to be tidied, but I couldn’t help imagining how Sandi’s night must be going. She and Brandon had agreed they were only going to have a meal and talk. They wouldn’t be going on to a bar afterwards. Or anywhere else. But maybe she would want to?
My phone buzzed. It was a message from Sandi.
“Hey you, how’s everything at home?”
“All fine. The Terrible Two are out for the count. How’s your date?”
The last three words gave me a pang of excitement as I tapped them out on the touchscreen. It seemed an unreal question to be asking my wife.
“Um, pretty great actually. Is that ok?”
“Of course! What’s great about it?”
“Can’t go into detail now, sorry. Just nipped to the ladies. Going back for dessert.”
“Ok. Glad you’re having fun.”
“Thanks babe. See you soon x”
It was a little after 10 when I heard a taxi drawing up on the street outside. I opened the door and Sandi wrapped me in a tight hug. I could feel the cold night air radiating from her, so I ushered her through to the kitchen and made her a steaming cup of fruit tea.
“So, how was it?” I asked.
“Oh God Mike, it was weird. But good. I can’t quite believe I just did that. I don’t even know how to describe it.”
“Maybe start from the beginning and tell me how it went?”
“Ok, well, even talking to you about it feels strange. When I got to the restaurant Brandon was just arriving, too. I ran into him at the door, almost literally. He looked just like his profile picture, which was kind of a relief. I was worried it might have been all filters and sympathetic angles, but he’s a really handsome guy.
“Anyway, we went inside and they showed us to a secluded little table for two. The place was busy, but we were tucked in a corner which made it feel a bit more private. It was a little awkward at first. Neither of us quite knew what to say. I think he was as nervous as I was. But we’d been talking so much online that we really just picked up where we’d left off.
“We just talked about little things at first. Work, music, movies, what we’re hoping to do now that things are finally getting back to normal. But even though it was just small talk, it felt really exciting talking to someone who wanted to find out all about me.”
“Well,” I cut in, “I want that as well.”
“Yes, but you already know so much, and I know so much about you. And that’s great, it’s wonderful to have that kind of familiarity. But I’d kinda forgotten how it feels when you meet somebody new. There’s so much to discover. It feels like an adventure. And you don’t know what they’re going to think of you, either. It’s this mix of tension and exhilaration. It’s like a dizzy panic, but if you can get over the scary part it’s actually really fun.”
“So did you manage to get over the scary part?”
“It wasn’t easy, but yeah. By the time the main course arrived we were laughing and chatting like we’d known each other for years. And by the way, that linguini was a fantastic suggestion.”
“Glad to hear it,” I smiled.
“Anyway, he looked great, and the conversation was a lot of fun, and the restaurant was lovely, and I might have had a couple of glasses of wine which really isn’t like me. And then I reached for the salt, and so did he, and our hands kind of brushed against each other for a second. I mean, I know it was nothing, but I sort of jumped like I’d had an electric shock. He started to apologise, and I started to apologise, and then we laughed about it, but just touching someone, someone else, in a romantic situation like that, it sent a kind of chill right through me. It was… I don’t know, I felt like it shouldn’t have happened, like it was something that could get me into trouble. But I was so glad that it had, I wanted…”
Her eyes had glazed over as she spoke, staring into space and reliving the moment. Then she shook her head, snapping out of her trance.
“Oh God, Mike, I’m sorry. I got a bit carried away there. Are you still ok hearing this?”
I nodded. Until now the idea of Sandi meeting someone else, potentially sleeping with them, had been purely a sexual fantasy for me, like a private video playing over and over in my imagination. I hadn’t been prepared for the idea that she might develop something more than a simple physical attraction to Brandon. It was having an effect on me that I didn’t understand. I wanted to tell her to text him and set up another date right away. I wanted to pick her up and carry her to the bedroom and spend hours reminding her exactly whose wife she was. Different parts of my brain were at war with one another – possessive, supportive, loving, demanding, caring, craving. My hands shook as I tried to process it all.
“Well, if you’re sure. But if you need me to stop then please tell me, because it got a little bit, well, it went a little bit further.
“Eventually Brandon started to ask about, well, about you and me. I could tell he was nervous about bringing it up. I think maybe part of him wanted to be sure you weren’t going to come after him with a crowbar or something. But I ended up telling him a lot about us, how we met, what first attracted me to you, a lot of little things about our life together. Nothing very personal or private, but it felt so strange being out on a date and telling the guy all about my husband waiting for me at home. He said you sounded like a great guy.
“And then we finished our meal, and I tried to split the bill, but he insisted on paying for everything. We wandered out. He had to head for a train, but he stayed with me while I waited for my taxi.
“And then it arrived, and he opened the door for me, and I didn’t intend to, I didn’t think about it Mike, but I sorta might have kissed him.”
My mouth hung open, stupidly. Sandi’s face grew concerned. She thought she had hurt me. I reached for something, anything to say.
“On the first date?”
Really? That was the best I could manage?
“Well, yeah. I hadn’t planned to, but I had such a good time with him, and you know I hardly ever drink, and by the time I realised what I had done it was too late. I think he was surprised.”
“Yeah, I bet he was.”
“I’m sorry Mike. I just didn’t know what was ok. Are you angry with me?”
I didn’t say anything. My answer was to pull her close and press my lips to hers. Her hands clasped around my neck, her mouth pressed back against mine. It was a greedy, hungry kiss, the sensation of her lips and her tongue amplified by the vivid picture her words had painted for me. My hands ran from her shoulders to her hips and back. I stroked, caressed, grabbed. We were breathing hard, the room around us had faded into nothing. All I was conscious of was this beautiful woman with her body against mine.
My hands roved further, over her breasts where her nipples pressed urgently into my palms through the fabric of her black dress, down to her taut, powerful thighs. I pulled up the hem of her dress and let a hand glide between her legs, feeling the heat of her arousal. She gasped as my fingers gently pressed, teasing her through her underwear. I planted tiny kisses on the side of her neck and she rolled her head to the side, giving me access to the smooth, sensitive skin. The kisses became gentle bites and she let out a low, yearning moan.
She leaned back against the kitchen worktop as I dropped slowly to my knees, leaving a trail of kisses down her body as I went, my eyes glued to hers. Kneeling there, I lifted her dress and gazed at her red cotton panties. I pressed my mouth to them and she shivered. I breathed her scent, and my already hard cock became almost painfully rigid. I pulled the fabric down her legs, and she kicked the lingerie over her shoes. She looked down at me, and I looked up at her as I slowly dragged my tongue from her lips to the sensitive bud of her clit.
I had always loved using my mouth on her. Being so close, tasting her, feeling how wet and ready she became, the juxtaposition of feeling like a subservient object of her pleasure and simultaneously being in control of her enjoyment were a delicious mix. Tonight was different, though. As I lapped and kissed, my mind kept replaying the scene Sandi had laid out: the obvious attraction she felt toward Brandon, the spark when their hands had touched, their impulsive kiss. How had his lips felt on hers? Did it feel different with him than with me?
I flicked my tongue faster against her. Her legs shook and she grabbed the back of my head, pushing her hips out and grinding against my face. I knew she was close. Her breath was ragged, she was so wet. Then her body went rigid as I took her over the edge.
Sandi never screamed or moaned when she climaxed. Her muscles tensed, she went completely silent, even her breathing stopped as her pleasure overpowered her. For a moment it was as though she went somewhere else, and then she was back, gasping like a diver returning to the surface and starving for air.
“Oh my God, oh my fucking God…” she repeated under her breath.
“That was so fucking good. Fuck…”
I rose to my feet and kissed her full on the lips. She had always loved when I kissed her deeply after going down on her, tasting herself on my mouth. Her hands played across my neck and chest.
“Let’s go to the bedroom,” I suggested.
“No, here,” she whispered. Her hands reached for my belt, unfastening the buckle. She reached and took hold of my cock, rubbing me gently through my boxer shorts. She smiled wickedly as she felt how hard and ready I was for her.
“I want it right here.”
She pushed my jeans and underwear down my legs and turned to face the worktop, lifting her dress and giving me a stunning view. However much she downplayed her beauty and deflected complements, she always admitted that her work in the gym had left her with a great ass. I ran my fingernails across it, then tickled the spot at the back of her thighs that always made her writhe with tormented pleasure.
“Please, Mike, right here, now.”
I slid myself into her. The first stroke was exquisite, it always was. Her heat, her pressure, her smooth wet slickness engulfed me. I thrust into her, holding her by the hips. She planted her hands on the worktop and pushed back against me, her rhythm syncing perfectly with mine.
“Yes, please, I need it.”
I’d spent the night incredibly aroused. Nothing had been able to shake the thought of her and Brandon from my mind. Her vivid description of everything that had happened had only stoked my desire further. Now she was here, mine, my beautiful wife, back with me. It wasn’t long before I started to feel my own climax rising.
“Baby, you’ve got me so close,” I breathed.
“Yeah, yeah, please,” she whispered back. “I need it, I need you to come for me.”
Her words were more than I could take. I let out a juddering moan as my cock spasmed inside her. I managed a few more strokes, long and slow, savouring the sensation before I became too sensitive for any more. I half-collapsed forward, my chest against her back, my head swimming. We stayed that way, perhaps only for a minute, although time seemed to have stretched out into something irrelevant and ill-defined.
“Honey,” I eventually managed to say, “I think it would be ok with me if you wanted to see Brandon again.”