Thursday, November 29, 2018


"Jesus, that...that's what you're wearing to your work dinner?" Sean asked his wife with a stunned look when he walked into their bedroom.

"Well it's like half work," she said, "he's taking me to dinner more for a 'congrats for the promotion' dinner. He's nice that way."

"Wait, I...I thought it was a bunch of people," Sean said quietly.

"No, no, just Michael," she said, "I mean, just the two of us."

"Just the two of you...isn't that...that kind of...revealing?"

"Well I don't want to send the wrong message, honey," she said coyly.

"What...what message?"

"I don't want him to think just because I'm married I'm unavailable."

"J...Jenny! He's your new boss!"

"And maybe he'll be our new stud, too," she smiled. "I wouldn't mind mixing business and pleasure with him."

Tuesday, November 27, 2018


It was a Sunday morning, late, my wife Erin and I were finishing coffee and the paper. We had no plans that day and as I poured a second cup of coffee, she glanced at her phone, excused herself, and went to shower. I thought nothing of it, read the Art section for the next hour.

Erin finally came out of the bedroom and it was the click-clack of her heels on the hardwood floor that caused me to look up, surprised.

"Erin?" I said, half statement, half question. She was wearing a dress I'd never seen before, a short, green nylon slip dress with embroidered mesh detail around her bust and ankle strap heels. The dress was short, true to its name, barely a dress, almost simply a slip, giving truth to the name.

"I...," she hesitated.

"What is it?" I asked, "I...I thought we were staying home...I"

She looked amazing, though self conscious as she was showing way more skin that she ever showed; I couldn't imagine where she'd gotten that dress or where she we were going.


"Am I supposed to get dressed, too?" I asked; I was just wearing slacks and a simple shirt. "It seems kind of early to go out."

She looked down, didn't say anything, finally unlocked her phone, handed it to me. On the screen was a text message exchange. I looked at the top, saw the name. Ben. My blood seemed to freeze.



We'd discussed the fantasy for months and months, more than a year, actually. We'd stumbled on some soft porn station on cable late one night, the movie was about a wife who flirted then cheated on her plain, beta husband with very masculine lover. No, that's not quite right, not really cheating, as her husband knew she was flirting, encouraged her. Watching the movie, watching the woman's husband encourage her to take a lover, watching it we had the hottest sex we'd had in years.

We talked about it again and again. The roles in that movie. The pretty wife, whom my wife resembled; the timid husband, who I fit exactly; and a mystery lover.

We met Ben first online then in real life. What made us take the step from fantasy to actually talking to a guy I'll never know, but there we were one day, having drinks with a man, admitting to him our darkest, deepest fantasies.

That was a month ago and the drinks was followed by a dinner, some talk, but nothing more; we hadn't heard from him for a couple of weeks and were on the verge of forgetting about him, maybe forgetting about it.

Then he texted her.

"Erin," his text said, "I'm coming over sometime around one. You, Paul, and I need to talk about a few things."

"Today?" Erin responded.

"Today," he said. "Around one."

"I should ask Paul if that's okay," she said.

"No," was his response.

"No?" Erin asked.

"No," he said again.

"I don't understand," she said.

"No as in no, you may not ASK Paul. You may, however, shower and get dressed in the sexiest dress you have, then TELL Paul I'll be over to chat with you two around one."

"Tell? I don't understand," she'd said.

"Tell, Erin. I don't ASK husbands if I can come over and see their wives, I TELL them I'm coming over to see their wives. These are not choices cuckold husbands get to make."

"Tell," I said, looked up at Erin, mouth open. "Jesus," I mumbled.

"I...I didn't know what to say," she blushed.

"Jesus," I said again.

"I...this is stupid," she said, the nervousness obvious in her voice.

"No," I quickly stopped her, "'s fine."

"Paul," she said.

"You don't want him to come over and talk?" I asked, assuming it was just that. "There's nothing wrong with talking..."

"He'll know where we live," she said.

"It...we don't have to do anything, Erin," I said, "it's don't want to?"

"No, I...I do," she said, "I..."

"I'm nervous, too,'s a Sunday afternoon, it's just talking...we can say no later," I rationalized, "we don't have to do anything."

"He...he's acting like he's in charge," she said.

"He is, isn't he? In charge?"

I saw her quiver, not from fear, but from excitement.


It was two and then we started to wonder what was going on. Was he lost? Should she call or text? Was it all some test? Were we going fucking crazy.

At ten after two we heard a loud noise, a motorcycle, actually, roar down the street and pull into our drive. We went to the window, sure enough it was Ben ridding a Harley, wearing jeans, a white tee, sunglasses, and a brown leather jacket. He parked the bike, got off, strode confidently up to our door.

" said one," Erin said opening the door to let him in.

He walked in looking confident, a 'no fucks given' look. He took off his jacket, handed it to me. We both looked at him in his shirt, tight against the muscles of his arms, chest, and shoulders. He looked at his watch, shrugged. "Got caught up," he said without apology. "I need a shower."

"A...a shower?" I asked, surprised.

"The thing you take when you're hot and sweaty," he said without further explanation.

"I...I thought you wanted to talk," Erin asked, voice almost cracking as she started at him.

"I do. After a shower; I assume you don't mind?"

"," she said, " can use the guest room." She pointed to that wing of the house. "On...on the right."


"I...I don't think..."

"Paul, grab me a couple of towels, will you," he said, a statement, almost an order, certainly not a questions.

"O...okay," I said, not sure what to make of him, not sure what else to say.

"You look great, Erin," he said, acknowledging finally how she was dressed, "we'll talk after I shower, okay?"

"S...sure," she said.

He walked towards the bathroom like he owned the place; Erin and I just looked at one another with a 'what the fuck' look on our faces. "Erin," I said.

"He just wants to talk," she said.

I swallowed, went and got a couple of towels, brought them to the guest bath, knocked. "Come," he said.

He was standing in the bath, waiting, thank god still dressed. "You...your towels," I said with a dry mouth.

"We're just talking, Paul," he said chuckling, "I promise."

"I...we...I mean..."

"Haven't decided to go forward...I know...that's the point of talking. So we can all decide. Listen, there's a bag of clothes in the right saddle bag of my bike, grab them for me. Can't put these back on."

I visibly exhaled, almost relieved, he noticed. "We're talking," he emphasized again.

"I asked her to..."

"Wear something sexy? Yea, of course. A woman like Erin should display her body when men are around, it establishes the proper mindset for her. And for you. I know she's got this prudish streak, she needs to be pushed to dress properly for a man."

"Properly?" I asked.

"She needs her boundaries pushed, Paul, when women get married, they get lazy and I won't tolerate a lazy woman."

"We're just talking," I said.

"Yes we are, and I want to see if you two fit with me as much as you want to see if I fit with you. I told you when we went to dinner, if I get involved with a couple it's as the alpha male...I don't intend to fight a husband for dominance."

I looked at him, held his eyes for about five seconds, looked away first. I remember telling him that, we'd had a couple of drinks each, telling him how I'd most often fantasized about Erin not just with a man, but with a specific kind of man, a strong man. Even a dominant man. "I...I wouldn't," I said.

"We'll see, Paul," he said, heading for the shower.

Twenty minutes later he emerged from the bathroom drying his hair with one of the towels. We were both sitting in the living room, next to one another on the couch, he came out drying his hair, wearing jeans, but otherwise barefoot and shirtless. I heard Erin suck in a small breath seeing him, seeing his muscles, his smooth, bare chest.

"That feels much better," he said sitting on a club chair across the coffee table from us. "Erin, why don't you grab us something to drink.

"Beer?" she asked.

"No, not when I'm on the bike. Just waters."

Erin uncrossed her legs, stood, went to the kitchen leaving me sitting across from a man who was so much more masculine than I'd ever been. I felt it, the difference between us, his natural confidence, charisma, charm, dominance.

"Your wife is beautiful, Paul," he said looking towards the kitchen.

"T...thank you," I said unable to meet his eyes.

He said nothing else until she returned though he briefly stood, put on a clean tee.

Erin came back with three glasses and a pitcher of water on a tray, set it on the table. "Pour," Ben said. She handed him a glass and I expected him to grab her, pull her on his lap, but he just watched her until she was about to sit back down beside me.

"Wait," he said and she froze, face towards me. "Look at her Paul, see the disappointment on her face? The same that's on yours. Both of you thought I was going to pull her onto my lap, but I told you, we were talking. Erin, go ahead, you may sit."

"B...Ben," I croaked when she sat next to me.

"This isn't something that's just physical for me," he looked directly at me, "you get that, I'm sure you do. It might be for some people, but not for me. This isn't just about sex, I won't just fuck her, Paul, this is about you asking a man into your relationship."

"I...I know," I whispered.

"Do you?" he asked. "Tell me, how many men can there be in a relationship?"


"We're pack animals, deep inside, there are leaders and followers. I'm a leader. Always."

"I...I know," I said looking at his eyes, briefly, looking away.

"I'll make the rules. You can have boundaries, of course, but I'll make the rules, I'm the man, I'm the alpha. We're clear on that, right? That's what this is."

"I...I know," I said.

"The movie you told me about, I watched it, that's fantasy, a good fantasy, but this is reality."

"I...I know," I said, "we know."

"It's one thing to fantasize about a man being with your wife, it's one thing to fantasize about a man having a role in your marriage, it's quite another to experience it. Fantasizing about it means you watch silly movies and go to your bedroom and make love. Experiencing it means you surrender control of part of your relationship to someone else. Emotionally she's yours now and forever, but sexually..."

I heard a small gasp escape from Erin's mouth, turned to her.

He turned to Erin. "Are you wearing panties?" he asked.

"Y...yes," she said softly.

"Stand up, take them off," he said, his tone a command. "Slowly, watching Paul while you do."

Erin hesitated for a moment and for a moment I thought he'd gone too far, that this was crossing the line of just 'talking' about things. But she did as told, stood in front of me, facing me, and reached under the hem of her dress, started to pull and bend.

"No," Ben stopped her, "no crouching, no dropping them down, peel them down, bending over.

Erin swallowed, I stared, we both realized what he wanted, but she did it, slowly seductively, peeled off her thong panties all the while giving him a show of her ass.

"Hand them to Paul," Ben said eyes glued on her rear; Erin, hand shaking, handed me her panties. "Well?" he asked me, eyes shifting to mine.


"Are they wet?" he asked.

"Y...yes," I swallowed.

He smiled at me. "That's what a man does to your wife, Paul. How wet is she?"

"How wet?"

"Reach up, Paul, feel her, tell me how wet she is."


"Feel her," he said, this time his voice a command. I was shaking but did as he said, reached up, touched Erin between the legs from behind. She gasped the second my fingers touched her lips, almost slipped in she was so wet. "How wet, Paul?"

"She...she's soaked," I blurted out.

"I told you experiencing this means surrendering her sexually, Paul, giving up control of her sexuality to me. You get that, don't you? This isn't a Cinemax movie, this is reality where her sexual pleasure will be my responsibility, not yours. That's how this works for me."

Erin moaned; I realized she was moving her hips, rubbing herself against my fingers, humping them, basically masturbating herself.

"But I...we..."

"My responsibility, Paul, not yours."

Wednesday, November 7, 2018

Following Up

It's interesting, she misses 'it' not 'him'.

I asked her about that, why the 'it' and not the 'him'.

"I don't know," Emily said, "I guess...I mean...I liked him...I liked him a lot, don't get me wrong, I just...I miss the other stuff, too. The flirting with different guys. Teasing you with different guys. Different guys. I don't know."

"So what are you doing...after..."

"After after? Losing the baby weight," she said touching her growing stomach, "fitting into a tight black dress again."

I pictured her, smiled. "I mean, are you seeing him again?"

"Maybe once for 'old time sake' or whatever, but I don't think...I don't know if I want to date him again."

"You just want to fuck him," I said. The words sound harsh, but my tone was anything but.

"Maybe," she smiled. "He's good. Really good. And I miss it, I do. I miss his...I don't know..."

"His masculinity," I suggested.

"Yea," she said. "He's got a way. His dominance. His...everything..."


"I don't know," she said, "maybe I'm being silly."

" don't have to," I said.

"Is that code for you don't want me to?" she asked.

"No. I mean...I don't want to suggest whatever you want is okay, but...I guess I feel like I want to give you some deference, too."

She reached over, touched me leg, smiled. "You're such a doll," she said. "I know you worry, maybe that's part of it."

"I trust you," I quickly said.

"I know, but you worry just the same, don't you? It's natural."

"I trust you," I said again.

"Do you trust him?"

I thought about it. "Oddly, I do."


"He doesn't seem like the type of guy to settle down."

"No," she laughed. "He's not. He's not that at all. I know he liked what we had but I really never got the sense he wanted more. That he wanted all this...the emotional intimacy. Heck, he's said it, hasn't he? He has emotional detachment issues. I'm not sure he's capable of love."

"I get that sense, too, Em, I suppose that's why I trust him."

"And here I thought I was giving you an out," she said.

"I thought the same," I said softly.

"God, here I am thinking you're worried about me falling for him, do I have to be worried about the opposite?"

"What's that mean?" I asked.

"Maybe you're the one I need to worry about!"


"I'm just saying..."

"You're mean," I pouted.

"I'm teasing, Sara, I'm teasing. I get it it, I do. It seemed natural, didn't it, having a dominant man around."

"He just...I don't know..."

"Got us?" she asked.

"I suppose," I said.

"Well, we have awhile, don't we. To think about it."

"Yea," I said, "I suppose we do."