This last year I came closer to realizing my fantasy of sharing my hot wife than I ever thought I would. Nicolette is an incredibly beautiful brunette in her 40's with a slim body. She has a refined elegance, which makes her an especially hot wife. She drives a Mercedes and always dresses like she's in a high end women's clothing catalog. I love her this way, buying her expensive jewelry just to see her put it on. Even though she looks really sexy, always attracting attention, she remains surprisingly shut down as far as talking about sex or letting me try anything out of the ordinary. Of course I've tried suggesting our role-playing my great sharing obsession, but she gets really upset, as if the very idea makes her somehow cheap or slutty. She basically told me she'd never be into something like that and if I want it so bad I should find another wife. The problem is that after 15 years of marriage I still just want her now more than ever. It's just that I also want to watch her have sex with another guy.
Though I'm tortured by the obsession, she at least secretly teases me with it, as long as we don't acknowledge that it's happening. At best our unspoken agreement leads to her flirting a little too much with strangers or "accidently" letting a guy see up her skirt. I know it doesn't sound like much compared to a lot of the hotter stories I read on this site, but thankfully a little goes a long way for us. We end up having really passionate sex, so I guess I shouldn't complain.
Then this last summer my friend Chris texted that he was driving from Virginia to meet up with his band for a gig in Boston, and he asked if he could stay (or "crash" to use his term) at our place for a night on the way. I run a rather successful music studio, along with a related business, and I'd gotten to know him through my work. He's half my age and very cool. I like and respect him a lot, but of course I'm jealous, first of his looks: he has that rock star thin body with a prominent Adam's apple, a full head of messy hair, and this attitude like he kind of owns the world. He's also an amazingly talented musician.
More than all of this, though, I knew from the first time we had him over for dinner that my wife was into him. She laughed way too much at his jokes, kept rubbing his arm when she talked to him, and dressed way sexier than she ever does with me on our dates. You'd think that this would be an ideal set-up for my fantasy. I guess it really was, but at the same time it hurt a little more than I'd expected to see her use him to torture me. In the moment I did feel angry at her, but I've been getting off on that night ever since.
"So when's Chris getting here?" she asked, trying to sound casual while blow drying her long dark hair in her almost see-through beige panties and matching bra.
"I think around dinner time. Why?" I asked.
"I just want to make him feel at home." She was standing in front of the mirror at her make-up table, which was in the closet of a room she used as her home office. Just the smell of her hair and body after a shower drives me insane with desire. Now, watching her get dressed when trying to repress her interest in a hot young guy who I know turns her on made me reach out my hand and put it on her perfectly shaped ass.
"What the hell are you doing? I'm not having sex right now!" She swatted my hand away. Then, to make it up to me, but again without revealing too much of her own desire, she said really matter of fact, "Just sit on the sofa and talk to me while I get ready. We can plan for our guest."
It's not like there was much to plan. She knew that. This was all about her showing me how she "planned" to sex herself up more than usual for him. After her hair, she put on her make up like she always does, only I noticed this time she went for very red lipstick. What really got me, though, was that she also put on blue eyeshadow. She hadn't done that since I first started dating her, when we were both in our mid-20's, about the age of our guest. I started to realize just how much he must provoke that younger memory of herself, and maybe of me. Then she took out a light blue summer dress, which matched the eyeshadow, from a Nordstrom's bag. Just like that it fully hit me: she'd bought a new dress, obviously for him. She'd set me up to watch her as if she were getting ready for a date.
"How do I look?" she asked, twirling around for me to get a full view.
"Amazing" I said, trying hard not to grab her, considering how she'd just rejected my last attempt.
"So both the kids have sleepovers. I'll drop them off then pick something up for dinner. I figure he's tired from driving, so maybe we could all watch a movie."
Both kids having sleepovers? That was a little too much of a coincidence. She'd most likely pushed them a little into the idea, wanting the house just for us, and our young guest. Despite knowing how shy she became when it came to actual sex, at this point I had to pretend to myself that it just might happen.
"Sounds like you have this all planned out," I said, trying not to sound too jealous, or too excited.
"I'm just being a good hostess," she replied. She leaned down to give me a kiss that basically meant this is me, your hot but often rather reserved wife, trying her best to take care of your fantasy that I'm too reserved to outright acknowledge. As she kissed me, I saw the top of her breasts, and even a little bit of her nipples, above the lacey edge of her half cup bra. I knew he'd soon be seeing the same cleavage, and I both wanted and didn't want him to see more.
***
Chris and I were catching up at the dining table when she arrived with dinner. He got up to hug her, and just like last year as they talked she started putting her hand on his arm a lot and laughing too much at anything he said that was remotely funny.
What really hurt, though, was when she lifted up his shirt sleeve to fully reveal one of his tattoos. It was of the Morton Salt Girl: the yellow girl holding an umbrella as it's raining salt. Above it all was the caption, just like in the old print ad: "I'm in love with the Morton Salt Girl." Of course a great looking hipster musician originally from Brooklyn would have some cool retro tattoo like this.
"God I love this image, Chris," said my wife, outlining it with her manicured nails in that "come fuck me" red nail polish to match her amazingly full lips. "All that yellow must have hurt!"
Just like she used to wear eyeshadow for me when we first started dating, she used to flirt in the exact same way with the tattoo on my arm. It was her understated move that once got her showing me, and now him, how she was playfully interested. He was taller than me, so as she leaned close to look at his tattoo, he got a really good look at the top of her breasts. Filled with confidence, Chris didn't even show that much reserve in checking out the cleavage. As she stood there letting him look, still outlining his tattoo, it's like they both were pouring a full can of that Morton Salt into my wounded pride and burning desire. It hurt like hell, since I'd never been this close to sharing her, but it also kept turning me on.
When she cleaned up dinner to let us keep talking at the dining table, in the kitchen she announced a little too loudly how much the tag on her new dress was bothering her. She could've been telling the truth, but the tone of her voice sounded a little too theatrical. It was obvious she wanted our attention. Partly visible in the kitchen, she exclaimed, "Ugh! I've got to cut this tag off. Okay guys, don't look!"
Of course that made me, and I'm sure him, want to look even more. I saw him lean a little bit to his right and smile, as if interested but not taking the voyeurism so seriously. More than just getting hard at this point, my face felt flushed with heat, like I had a fever. Watching him watch her as she cut out the tag with a kitchen knife in her bra and panties was maybe the hottest moment out of all the sex I've had with her. Of course since then I've relived this moment a million times when getting myself off.
She even went to put the knife back before putting her little blue dress back on, her high, corked-heeled open toed shoes making her ass stand up even more as she faced the kitchen drawer. At this point I'd moved beyond my jealousy. I was locked into desire for her. Though Chris had rather blatantly looked, he thankfully didn't make some stupid crass comment, to me or to her. It's like he knew our secret game and wanted to help us take it as far as it could go.
***
Chris brought in his guitar with his backpack, and we ended up jamming a little bit in my basement studio while Nicolette went upstairs to answer work emails. A musician myself, it was always a pleasure to play with others, and Chris was really talented. Of course I was jealous of his ability to play music too, but like his great looks and style that attracted my wife to him, at least he wasn't a dick about it. A little arrogant, maybe, but ultimately he was respectful. Much like his night with us as a married couple so far, he played a few songs we both knew along
with
, as opposed to
against
, me.
We got really into it for a while, and I started to let go and enjoy the songs. It was a much needed release. Still, Nicolette had left me completely obsessed with her flirtations, and in the middle of him playing and singing one of his own songs, I found myself thinking how sexy she would find him if she were downstairs with us. As soon as we took a break I suggested we take her up on her offer of watching a movie together.
Walking upstairs to the guestroom to show Chris where to put his bag and guitar, I saw her in our bedroom right across the hall where he would be sleeping.
"You still up for a movie?" I asked.
"Sure, if you and Chris are."
"I just have to get comfortable," she said. I turned to leave, and Chris followed me, but then she suggested, "Why don't we decide now on what we'll watch, so we're not arguing about it half the night."
"Alright," I said.
"You guys can sit down. I just have to take out my contacts and put my glasses on."
She went to the bathroom down the hall while I awkwardly sat on my own bed and Chris sat in the chair beside me. It felt a little strange, her inviting us to sit, then leaving. Just like that she got us waiting for her, wanting to see her. Fortunately, she came back right away.
"So what kind of movies do you like to watch?" she asked Chris.
Chris started to tell us that he didn't watch many movies, but that he absolutely can't stand mainstream Hollywood productions. "But I'll watch anything with good sex in it," he added, smiling a little at her.
"You two really are a lot alike then," she said, kind of rolling her eyes to seem playfully annoyed. "I always feel like sex in movies looks so forced and unbelievable, plus they make me self-conscious." She was bending down in her dress to get her pajamas out of the lower drawer.
