Warning, no explicit sex scenes ahead. Special thanks again to sbrooks103x for the editing.
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I'm just a plain guy. I'm not big at 1.75 meters. I'm not fat, but I'm also not skinny. I work out a lot, but that doesn't change the fact that I'm no hunk and never will be one. I'm also neither rich nor famous. I have a nice job and pull down good money, but I have no chance in hell to ever get filthy rich. My reproductive organ is of average size. I'm not ugly, but I also don't have model qualities. I'm not disfigured, limping or have a bad breath. There's nothing wrong with me, but there's also nothing outstanding about me. I'm just some guy. You probably know plenty of guys like me.
More or less the same is true for my wife Annette. She's not unpleasant to look at, at least in my eyes, but she's certainly no head-turner. Her bum is a bit wide and her chest a bit flat, but I love her as she is. I'm happy and at ease with our relationship. I sometimes even think it's better that we both are as unremarkable as we are. It's easy to think you've fallen in love with an exceptionally beautiful person. The problem is that you fall in love with the cover, not with the content. If you're as John Doe-ish as we are, your love is probably something a bit more substantial. To love an average person means you have to love the personality as well.
Of course, almost every guy thinks, for example, Angelina Jolie is gorgeous. I'm the exception in that case, but probably 99 percent of my gender does. If you have a less outstanding female specimen, my impression is that the opinions vary a lot more. Some like this type, some like that. The male opinions seem to vary a lot more than with a real stunner. It was just like that with my Annette. While I enjoyed looking at her, most of my buddies seemed to think she was rather unattractive. That was okay for me, I had married her for myself, not to brag about her. It even relaxed me a lot to know that there wasn't much competition and that she was truly mine. A few of my buddies have even dared to warn me that I sell myself short with her and that I could have a much nicer looking babe. I seriously doubted that, but even if it was the case, what would it change? Even if I was a 6 out of 10 and she was a 5, should I leave her and go trying to replace her with a 6? How shallow is that kind of thinking? And as I've said, such things are in the eye of the beholder anyway.
Now would I say that things were perfect with my Annette? No, of course not. A perfect life is like a mathematical limit case that doesn't happen in real life. The fly in the ointment in our case was the so-called 'girls' group'. Now you certainly expect some clandestine secret circle of evil women, forging plans to destroy the males around them? No. What about a group of wild chicks, hitting the bars and looking for short-term sexual release? Totally wrong again. Hard to believe, but we husbands were even invited to participate. Now imagine eight women gossiping at full speed while demonstrating their multitasking abilities by leading two or three conversations simultaneously. Keep in mind that none of these conversations had any substance. Imagine two or three lonely males sitting in between them, wondering what their wives were even talking about, not being able to get a word in, and even if they knew, would have nothing to contribute or be interested in. Imagine enduring this for three or four hours, listening without obtaining a single piece of information worth sacrificing even the slightest brain capacity for. The effect is that you start to wish you'd had a root canal treatment instead.
Needless to say, the whole thing turned into a solely female event in no time. While the women were best friends since forever, we guys hardly knew each other. Of course, our loving spouses suggested that we guys spend some time together while they were discussing 'important things', but that soon tapered off as well. I soon preferred to spend the time at home and was quite happy this way, being determined never to attend such a tortuous gathering again in my whole life.
They always met at one of the wives' homes and the good thing was that ours was one of the more modest ones. So they rarely convened here, which was just as well. They never met in some bars, went dancing or something like that. The whole thing was very harmless in every way. Sometimes I asked myself how they could possibly come up with new things to talk about, but that wasn't my problem and while I had witnessed their meetings I had the impression it wasn't a problem at all. The upside was that Annette usually was home at about eight o'clock, which gave us some time together.
On that particular Friday, she came home in an even better mood than she usually did. Meeting her friends seemed to be good for her and I was really glad for that.
"Honey, you know, me and the girls, we're always talking about everything."
"Sure." She seemed unsure and starting a conversation with such an empty phrase was unusual for her. I had the distinct feeling that a sizeable portion of bullshit was about to follow.
"Aaaand, we sometimes come up with the weirdest stuff."
"Oookaay..." Was I supposed to contribute something meaningful now? Probably not. I could safely assume that being present as an audience was all that was required of me at that point. She would soon tell me what this was about. I certainly wasn't about to disagree with that last statement, as it matched exactly my own impressions.
"You know, we've set up some kind of game. Most of us are just house wives and life can be a bit boring. So we've decided to spice things up a bit. Just some harmless excitement for a bunch of desperate house wives, you know?" She winked and looked happy, but I had an uneasy feeling about this. She was preparing me not only for a small bucket of bullshit, but for a whole truckload.
"Angela came up with this, but we all agreed it would be such a nice experience. Come on, Frank, don't look so sour, you're really going to like this."
"Oookayy..." But I wasn't so sure. The feeling of dread was unwilling to leave my head.
"It's just a game. You see, the rules are simple." She was quite excited by now, but obviously unsure how to approach the core of this. "Each... No. Ah, Frank, I know that there are some real hotties among our group."
"I don't know. Sure, some are okay, but I love only you." After a few years as a husband you just know how to navigate through minefields disguised as simple questions.
"And you better do, buster. Anyway, I guess that each man alive thinks that at least Bea, Tina and Angela are smoking hot. Carla and Nina aren't too bad either, don't you think?"
"Annette, where exactly is this leading to?" Why was she praising her girlfriends' attractiveness? This couldn't lead to anything good and accordingly, my tone had become a little harder, proportional to my darkening mood. She was obviously trying to sell me something I wasn't about to like.
"Anyway, we've had this idea... Kind of crazy, you know? Well, we thought that each husband can spend three wild nights with someone else than his wife. For each night he can choose one of the girls from our group. Of course, he can also choose the same girl two or three..."
"Annette! Where is this leading to?" I rudely interrupted her.
"I was just about to tell you," she patiently explained. "You can have wild sex with three hot women..."
"What is the price?"
"What?" She looked almost indignantly. "What price?"
"You're not going to offer me three nights of hot sex with other women without something you want to get out of it." I already guessed where this was leading to, but decided to let her explain this. Yes, Bea, Tina and Angela admittedly were quite hot, but their husbands weren't chopped liver either. Why would they want to spend a night with plain old Frank? I already guessed that this was about to lead to some idiotic wife swapping thing. It turned out I was wrong. Things were even worse.
"Frank, Bea has met this guy. Ah, he's working as some kind of dancer, it seems..."
"A stripper?" Normally, I would find this hilarious, but in this case I didn't.
"Yeah, well. If you want to put it this way, yes." She saw my frown. "But he's not some kind of brainless bimbo guy, you know? He's actually quite charming. I think you'd like him," she hastily added, as if that changed anything.
"So you want to have sex three times with this hunk? To placate me, I can have three times with one of your friends?" I was taking a wild guess.
"One time."
"What?"
"I will have sex with Mario just once," she said in a rather timid voice.
"WHAT?"
"That means nothing. It will be like doing sports. Just some meaningless humping. With a condom only, of course."
"You can't be..."
"You see, it's a good deal. You get three times and I get only one."
"Sorry, I'm not interes... Wait a moment..." I suddenly had a dreadful idea. "Am I the first husband to get this offer?"
"What? No. Why are you asking? Paul and Tom have already accepted. Paul chose two nights with Bea and one with Tina. Tom wanted one night each with Bea, Tina and Angela. They both seemed quite happy with the deal, by the way. Very happy, indeed." She looked quite confident again.
"They already had their wild nights?"
"Yes. Why are you so upset about that?"
"Let me see, I'd be free to choose from all of the women in your group?"
"Yes." She looked quite happy, being somehow able to ignore my stern face.
"Like Tom and Paul were?"
"Sure. They chose... ah..."
"So they didn't choose you."
"No, they didn't." She sensed that trouble was ahead of her.
"But you offered yourself to them."
"Well, yes... technically I did." She finally understood what this was about. "But nothing happened," she hastily added.
"It doesn't matter if something happened. So far this was just some hare-brained idea that I could dismiss before anything went wrong. But what you've just told me gives this a whole new quality."
