Chance
Wife takes a chance; what were the chances he'd take her back?
This one is a little different and somewhat interactive in that the comments will dictate where our MC's story goes next. This part is short and a bit of a standard trope. Our MC's decisive actions outweigh the need for endless dialogue here. I hope you like it. Warning: BTB incoming.
I NEED READER'S HELP
: Please, in the comments can someone tell me the name of a story and the author? I want to write a conclusion to it. It's been so long since I read it, and I thought I favorited it but can't find it.
The story is about a married couple who at some point earlier, had a threesome with another woman. It's told from the husband's point of view. They both agreed they didn't enjoy the experience all that much. Then one night while visiting the wife's three friends, they meet a guy that one of the women brought along that she's dating. He's a very unsocial type, and while he's outside smoking, the girlfriend makes excuses for him but explains that he's a master in the bedroom.
Upon return, the conversation ends up turning to sex. Instead of being embarrassed that the women were talking about him when he stepped out, he shrugs and admits that he can make any woman orgasm in - I don't remember how long - I think it was four minutes. The MC's wife is intrigued and allows herself (or wants) to be dragged into a bet that he can make her cum in the allotted time. Our MC is not happy, but for some reason allows it. They bet and the rough guy wants sex if he wins. Of course, he does win, and they head off upstairs, without any discussion, the guy telling the hubby, "Sorry man, I don't like to be watched by another guy, it's not my thing." Then he invites the other three women up to join in. Our MC sits there enduring the noises and his wife shouting out that she's never experienced anything like it before. He tries to endure it because the previous threesome was his idea. The other women had already mocked him inadvertently when they headed upstairs by telling him to go home since it would be a long night.
Someone else did do a follow-up to the story, and I can't find it either. In that one, hubby's gone when she gets back, and slowly she realizes what she's done. She hires someone to find him, and he's working in a seafood bar on the Gulf Coast, living with the widow owner of the place. She moves there to reconcile. Thank you in advance!!
Relax; it's just a story, people.
[Copyright 2024, all rights reserved, including section 207 of international copyright law]
I hated these Fridays and the long drive home. My job as a sales rep for a Fortune 50 food distributor earned a good living wage for my wife and me, but the monthly sales meetings meant I had to drive to the main office, two and a half hours away, on Thursday. I'd spend the night at a hotel and then make the long drive home when the meeting ended around three in the afternoon. The Friday traffic made it a three-and-a-half-hour trek.
My territory in Temecula was ripe, being outside the big city of San Diego. There were fewer businesses to sell to but also fewer competitors. My wife, Lara, worked for a mid-size accounting firm that had their Pacific headquarters about half an hour from our home so she did a fair bit of driving as well.
I, Chris Tester, met Lara in college. We became quick friends, dated, and found ourselves quickly falling for each other. It wasn't even a year before we took the other to meet our families. My Mom and Dad lived on the East Coast and to me, anyway, had always been a bit stuffy. Dad was a corporate lawyer with a major firm in Boston. They liked Lara well enough but didn't overtly show it.
Lara's parents liked me more, I thought. My degree was in marketing and since I'd worked a bunch of restaurant jobs, I knew after college, I'd need to go to work in food distribution if I wanted to make good money. I never considered sales until I found that was where most people started these types of careers.
Our wedding was a mixed bag. Lara's folks weren't rich and Lara quickly got way over budget in the planning. By the time she and her bridesmaid, along with her mother, figured it out, things had progressed to the point that she'd either be very disappointed or I'd need to kick in. I had just started my first sales job and money was tight, so I decided to ask my parents to subsidize the wedding and I would pay them back on the QT.
Dad lectured me about the importance of future budgets but finally relented and gave me an extra ten grand.
The next major issue was the guest list. Jami Bates was Lara's best friend from high school. She was a bubbly-faced, blond-haired, blue-eyed work of true art. While Lara was beautiful in her own right, Jami had that natural, girl-next-door beauty. She was short and petite, whereas Lara was tall and slender.
I paid little attention to her side of the guest list and realized later that I should have. While I grew up in a Boston suburb, Lara's childhood home was twenty-five minutes away in Escondido. We met at UCSD (University of California, San Diego). It was one of only two schools that offered me a business major scholarship focused on marketing.
All of Lara's high school friends were invited. That was fine by me until I learned by accident two weeks before the wedding that Lara had invited her high school sweetheart, Tristen Knowles.
When I entered the kitchen to grab a beer, Lara had Jami and three other friends sitting at the table, going over plans. I overheard one of them ask if I knew.
"Know about what?" I said nonchalantly as I passed. The room fell deathly silent with all the ladies staring at me and then at Lara. Lara meanwhile shot daggers at her friend.
"Oh, we're just talking about some of my friends, is all," Lara tried to hide it.
I stared at her. She became more nervous the longer I did so.
"Ladies, can you excuse us a moment," I asked politely. The four of them filed out of the room, looking like they expected a war.
"Okay, Lara," I stared hard at her. "Spill it."
She thought it through for a moment. I could tell she was tossing it over in her mind. Finally, I guess she decided honesty was the best way to go.
"I invited Tristen to the wedding," she said with an edge, then she waited. I was trying to comprehend what I was looking at. It was a first for Lara.
"And why would you do that?" I decided questions would serve me better in that instance.
"Because he's a friend," she would make me draw all the rest out of her.
"Okay, Lara, I'll bite," I took a seat across from her. "You're inviting your old boyfriend to your... our... wedding. Now that I know, it appears you've got an attitude about it. Was it intended to be a secret or is this something else?"
That threw her off balance and she didn't answer right away. "No, it isn't anything else," she said in a humbler tone. "Look, Chris, he's a good friend. I want him to share our big day with us. I'm getting married to you, not him. I'm in love with you, not him. We split amicably when it happened. You know the story; he went in the service."
"I don't want him there," I stated emphatically. "Have you already sent him an invitation?"
"No, we're working on them now so we can take them to the Post Office tomorrow," Lara replied. "I made out the invite for him and a guest. Please try to understand. There's nothing to be jealous of, Honey."
