Author's Note:
This story could easily fit into a number of categories. Namely, Group Sex or Anal. I've chosen Loving Wives, because the struggles that take place would mean nothing without the vow of marriage being at the crux of it.
If you are a devoted fan of my more romantic works or my BDSM novels, you might not like this story. This one is sex first, love on the side. A stroke story with a pulse.
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***
Prologue
***
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Jack
I guess there's some lesson to be learned from this story that can be summed up neatly in a single axiom. Like, "be careful what you wish for, you might just get it", or "two wrongs don't make a right", or some bullshit like that. Looking back, I just shrug and think to myself,
Shit happens
.
The thing is, if I had it to do over again, I wouldn't change a damned thing. I don't feel one ounce of regret over initiating this whole sequence of events that resulted in one couple's divorce, two men's fantasies fulfilled, and three happy fuckin' people. For me, once I got my mind wrapped around it all, it became one long hard-on. Fuck what anybody else thinks.
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One: One Crazy Idea
***
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"Why the fuck do you always root against my boys?"
"Because it's the Yankees. Everyone who isn't a fan roots against 'em."
"I'm living in the wrong goddamn state."
"You just figuring this out? How long have you lived here, 10 years?"
"Since college. Too damn long." An uproar came from the patrons at the bar. "Fuck! I can't believe he's still pitching. I can't watch this."
Jack lifted his beer mug from the counter as he swiveled his barstool to face the other direction.
"So how are you and Kelly making out these days?"
Kevin shrugged and took a swig of beer before answering. "About the same."
"Sorry to hear that. You still talking about divorce?"
"She hasn't brought it up again after that one time, but nothing has changed."
"What does that mean?"
"We're still not, you know..."
"Fuckin'?"
Kevin chuckled; he didn't exhibit the same level of bluntness as Jack. "Yeah."
Jack shrugged. "Everyone goes through dry times. We went two weeks without, once."
Kevin shook his head. "We haven't done it in two months."
Jack nearly spit his beer out, then choked down what he had in his mouth. "You fuckin' kiddin' me?"
Kevin shook his head.
"And you put up with this?"
"I don't have a choice. I tried."
"She frigid or somethin'?"
Kevin half smiled at Jack's upstate New York accent. It was more pronounced when he drank. "No, that's the part that hurts. I caught her in the bathroom with a, uh, vibrator, the other day. She was reading some book on her Kindle."
"When Em reads that shit, I am
guaranteed
to get laid."
"Well, Kelly didn't want anything to do with me afterward."
Jack frowned and swiveled back toward the bar. He avoided looking up at the television screen. He could already guess by the cheering in the room how bad his team was doing. Instead, he focused his attention on his troubled friend.
Nearly eight years earlier, Jack hired Kevin to paint the interior of an add-on his crew had just built. Kevin fashioned himself an artist, but to pay the bills, he offered his skills to general contractors in need of freelance painters.
Despite their differences in general demeanor, they became fast friends. And then best friends. Kevin was the only person other than his wife that Jack confided in. It was just the way he was raised.
Growing up near Buffalo, Jack had been raised to be tough-minded and self-reliant. It was rare for him to talk about feelings, especially his own. And other than the casual gripe about his baseball team or the weather, he never discussed his own problems. This was probably the biggest complaint from his wife, Emily, though being raised in a similar environment to Jack, she'd never say so out loud.
But that didn't stop him from being a good listener. Much to the credit of the general earthiness of New Yorkers, Jack could identify with his fellow man. Pain was real to him. It made sense and kept people humble. It was this trait that drew workers to his business. And created lifelong friends like Kevin.
"How long has this been goin' on?"
"A year, maybe. I don't know, maybe even longer than that."
"Everythin', you know, workin' right with you?"
Kevin laughed and nodded his head. "Yeah, man, I'm fine. No problem there."
"Then what's the problem?" Jack felt that everything was simple. If you just peeled away the layers of bullshit, you could uncover the problem and solve it.
"I don't know. Boredom, I guess. We just sort of fell into a routine. In her mind, that's a fate worse than death."
Jack nodded his head slightly and drained his mug. He made eye contact with the bartender and presented his empty beer flagon. In turn, the bartender held up two fingers and Jack nodded in affirmation.
His own mind was churning. He recalled a recent similar conversation with Emily. Although the exchange was brief, brought on by Emily's unusual request while they were making love, the gist of it was the same.
"I think these books they read do more harm than good."
"I hear ya. I picked up one of Kelly's. The main guy in the story was over six-foot tall, body-builder physique, hung like a stallion, and rich as snot."
"Sounds like me. Except for the rich part."
"Yeah, well, he was also gentle and sensitive, and completely unselfish in bed."
"Doesn't exist."
"That's my point. No man has all that."
"No. Although I'm pretty close." Jack stopped to chuckle at his own humor before continuing. "It's total bullshit."
"Try to tell
them
that."
"You'd have to combine several dudes to get close to that shit."
"I know. And on some level, I think Kelly realizes that, because get a load of this ... she suggested we should look into swinging."
"Swinging?"
"Wife-swapping and stuff like that."
"Really? Damn."
"I know."
"What did you say?"
Kevin shrugged. "There was nothing I
could