My wife Charlotte is a talented and successful florist. She has worked incredibly hard to build a great business with a sterling reputation and a lot of loyal followers. She's done this while birthing and raising our two beautiful children. While multiple pregnancies have changed her figure, she still turns heads. Charlotte has an ageless olive complexion and doesn't wear a stitch of make-up. She's been blessed with a flat stomach and works hard to maintain it. Her breasts shrank considerably from nursing both children, but I find them perfectly proportioned and a real treat to ogle.
Charlotte's ass is her most stunning feature. Whether she's in jeans, yoga pants, or a bikini, mine and everyone else's eyes are immediately drawn to it. I used to studiously avoid eye contact with men I knew were checking her out, but over time it's become so commonplace for men of all ages to stare at her ass, that I just smile and enjoy watching them enjoy it.
Our sex life is...not great. We have sex infrequently, it's usually pretty brief (my fault), and never feels terribly exciting. Charlotte is uncomfortable with me going down on her -- even though it is something I like to do -- and her giving me oral sex is out of the question. With kids and work, sex is on the backburner, and it's been on the backburner for a while. And to be fair, I haven't said or done anything to make it a priority.
The bulk of Charlotte's flower business is weddings. That's where the big money is. After 10 years in the flower business, she's made centerpieces, bouquets, and boutonnières for hundreds of weddings.
For the couples that live here in town, the grooms who become husbands know just where to go for anniversaries, Valentine's Day, Mother's Days, and birthdays. Lately, Charlotte has been trying to grow that "special occasion" business into something a bit more consistent, especially in the slower summer months. We talked and strategized, and she came up with the idea for a weekly flower subscription. Marketed specifically to husbands, they could pick-up bouquets for a modest sum and go from giving flowers only on special occasions to giving their wives fresh flowers every week.
I helped her craft an email to 10 husbands. To her surprise, 5 of them signed up. It wasn't a smashing success, but it was a start. Charlotte was sure the power of social media and envy would get the others on board soon enough. We also decided to try this while both kids were away for the month. The older one at sleep-away camp and the younger one with my folks a few hours away.
When the first Wednesday pick-up day arrived, Charlotte was nervous and excited. I didn't hear from her all day. I got home before her and chilled a nice bottle of wine to celebrate when she arrived. Charlotte texted she was on her way home a little after 6pm. She said she had to wait for the last husband to pick up his flowers. When she came through the door at almost 6:30, she was a little disheveled and had clearly worked hard all afternoon.
I poured our wine and toasted to her success. She was a bit sheepish but smiled and thanked me for my help. I went in to kiss her and she hesitated just a moment before meeting my lips and offering a kiss that was less passionate than the kind I was going for.
"I need to go hop in the shower. I'm a mess" she said as she quickly backed away and headed towards our bedroom.
I was about to order some takeout when Charlotte's phone buzzed. It was a text message from a local number that said "Thank you so much for the flowers. They are almost as incredible as you. Looking forward to seeing you more often now."
I stared at the phone for what seemed like a long time. Then the screen went black, and I heard Charlotte's shower cut off. I snapped back to reality and ordered dinner. We discussed her first day of the new venture. She said it was good to see all the husbands and they were happy to be earning "brownie points" with their wives. She said one of the crasser guys joked that he was probably going to get laid every Wednesday because of this.
We polished off the wine with dinner and I forgot all about the text message. We went to bed tipsy and made out a little. With the kids out of the house, I was hoping for some great and uninhibited sex but settled for a hand job. When I tried to return the favor and slid my hand into Charlotte's panties, she pushed it aside and said she was too tired.
With my balls emptied I fell fast asleep and didn't think again about the message or Charlotte turning down an orgasm.
The next week flew by and as Charlotte suspected, more husbands signed up for the flower subscription when the first round of flowers got plastered all over social media.
As she left for the shop Wednesday morning dressed in her "work clothes" (yoga pants and a t-shirt), I noticed she had an extra tote bag with her. That small change in habit jogged my memory and suddenly, the text message from last week popped into my head. Now the wheels were turning, and I felt overcome with paranoia. I went to work and tried to focus but it was no use. All I thought about was the strange text message and the extra tote bag.
By 4pm I couldn't take the suspense. I told my boss I wasn't feeling well and needed to head home early. I drove across town to Charlotte's shop and found a parking space in the neighboring lot where I could see the shop, but no one could see me.
Over the course of the next half hour, I saw 6 men go inside and come out with flowers. Charlotte walked the last man outside to say goodbye. She was still wearing yoga pants and a T-shirt. After she said goodbye to her last customer, she pulled out her phone and started typing. My phone buzzed.
"Same husband is running late again this week. Should be home by 6:30"
I looked up to see Charlotte still typing but I didn't receive any more messages.
About 10 minutes later, a tall, dark-haired man in a suit walked up to the shop. Charlotte opened the door to greet him wearing a very short pink dress and had her hair up in a ponytail. She grabbed his hand and pulled him into the shop. I saw her stand in the door and lock it, turn the "Closed" sign around and draw the shade.
For a few minutes, I just stared in disbelief, unable to move and not knowing what to do. With my heart in my stomach and my head spinning, I got out of my car and walked across the parking lot towards Charlotte's shop. I tip-toed up to the side of the front door and tried to see between the shade and the doorframe into the shop. I could only see the floor a few feet inside the door, but that was all I needed to see. There on the ground was a pink dress and a pair of panties -- a sheer black thong from La Perla I had bought her many years ago and she'd never worn. Just as I was about to bang on the door and scream, I heard Charlotte's voice.
"Oh my GOD, don't stop DON'T STOP. Yes!"
I froze. Charlotte never talked like this. It sounded like she was having sex. Actually, it sounded like she was getting fucked. And if I'm being honest, I had never properly fucked her. I was jolted out of my confusion by a man's voice.
"Are you close? I'm about to cum."
"Yes, I'm close!"
Moments later I heard the unmistakable, uninhibited sounds of 2 people climaxing together, pleasurable sounds and groans coming from them both. I girded myself again to bang on the door but stopped at the realization that I had a raging hard-on and had leaked pre-cum through my khaki pants. Sheepishly, I retreated around the corner into a hedgerow and waited quietly for something to happen.
After a few minutes I heard the door unlock and open. In the darkness I peered around the corner to see my wife and a very handsome man walk outside. Charlotte was in her pink dress, but her hair was no longer up in a ponytail. The man didn't look the least bit disheveled. He bent over and kissed Charlotte deeply.
