My Wife My Uncle My Needs

Author's Note: Thanks for your potential interest! Heads up, this story involves no cheating, no humiliation, no revenge. It does include elements of wife sharing (non-cuckold), implied swinging, and in-law relations.

***

I honed in like a hawk, eagle-eyed, whatever bird expression best fit here.

In my backyard, I watched my wife and uncle having what others would construe as normal conversation. And if I was close enough to overhear them, I might've agreed. But I chose to believe otherwise. I imagined they were having a flirty back and forth, testing the other's threshold for taboo. It was more exciting to fixate on such fantasy, on this paradoxical day of celebration—my dad's one-month death anniversary.

I continued observing my wife. Belle's forearms casually rested below her breasts, like a drawbridge that paved the visual ingress for my uncle's eye-line to invade her busty fortress. She had no clue she was doing it either, which made it all the more entertaining for me. I was just missing some popcorn.

What about my Uncle Dave? Were his eyes stuttering to stay level? Hard to tell from my distance. If he were to glance down at her chest, I wouldn't blame him. My wife modeled swimsuits and lingerie for a living. She had an effect on men. The more exciting aspect to me was whether she was having this effect on her uncle-in-law, whom I should mention, was my dead dad's younger brother.

"What do you think, Artie?" a voice beside me said.

I blinked, my attention brought back to my older sister, Annette, standing next to me. Next to her was our brother, Frank. Both of them were blankly looking at me, waiting for a response.

"What?" I asked.

"You've been awfully quiet," my sister said to me. "Frank and I have been spilling our hearts out here, recounting favorite memories."

"Of?" I replied.

"Dad!" Frank said.

"And?" I said.

"Well, what's yours?" Annette asked.

"My favorite memory?" I replied, suddenly feeling the spotlight. "Yeah, don't have one."

"C'mon, Bro," Frank said. "Our old man's in a grave now. Surely you can think of one thing."

I spared seconds to ponder, more eager to circle back to titillating matters across my yard.

"God, Artie..." Annette shook her head, disappointed with my silence. "You know, this family get-together was supposed to be a time for reflection, reminiscing... He was hard on all of us. But at the end of the day, he was still our dad."

I scratched at my neck, like an addict itching for a hit, desperate to sneak glances back in the direction of my wife and uncle. "Frank," I said, "why don't you take Annette to the kitchen? I had her favorite pastries catered."

There was an awkward pause that preceded my sister's sigh. She dropped her hands on my shoulders like heavy weights, ready to impart a life lesson from an older sibling. "Hey... It's okay, Artie. I get it. Thanks for hosting the family today."

I glanced at our brother, giving him a

can-you-believe-our-weird-sister

look. But he too lent his hand to my shoulder, making me feel like I was the odd one here.

"Come on, Sis," Frank said. "Let's see about those pastries. We'll get Mom one too."

With my sibs out of sight, I eagerly returned my focus to where Belle and Uncle Dave had been chatting. Only they were no longer there!

I frantically scanned my yard, eyes pinging left and right like an epic Wimbledon rally. I saw my mom holding my baby son. Spotted my nephews, my niece, my best friend, my two brother-in-laws. There were various cousins, aunts, and uncles. But not

the

uncle! And not

my

wife!

My active imagination excitedly punched in its timecard... Had Belle led Uncle Dave back inside our house, up our staircase, straight to our master bedroom? Or had she left first, told him to meet her in five minutes to be less suspicious. It'd give her enough time to strip down, pose seductively on our bed, be ready for when he'd knock on our sacred double doors.

"Hungry yet?"

I spun around in a panic, only to realize it was the star of my fantasy herself, speaking to me. Belle had her arms out, handing me a plate of food. I collected myself and wiped my dirty thoughts clean for the time being. Then I realized I hadn't even eaten lunch yet. Thank god for my wife. She always knew how and when to tend to my needs.

"Looking lost in space there, babe," Belle said. "Something on your mind?"

"Just thinking," I replied.

"Of your dad?" she asked, glancing at our backyard full of loved ones. "I know he was the rugged, reserved type, but I think he would've loved seeing everyone here gathered. Smiling. Laughing."

"Like how you were smiling and laughing... with Uncle Dave," I said slyly. Apparently, my impulsive side wasn't concerned with gatekeeping perverted musings.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" she asked, a smile starting to curl.

"You tell me," I replied, a smile curling of my own.

She stepped closer to me, until she was right up against my chest. Tilted her chin up to force eye contact. "Okay Arthur, my handsome husband, eternal love of my life," she said, heavy on the descriptors. "You sure you don't want to elaborate? On your tone? Your

select

choice of words?"

I delivered a small peck to her freckled nose and said nothing more. Just grinned at her while she waited for me to say something worth her while. I wasn't going to give her the pleasure. Nope. Not here. Better impulse control now.

"Well, in other news," Belle said, "I think I should get Nathan off your mom's hands. I think our son's getting a tad heavy for her."

"Let the woman hold him for as long as she wants," I said. "Androids don't get tired."

She playfully scoffed. "Anyway, we're gonna talk later. You're not getting away with that Uncle Dave comment..."

***

Chapter 1

Talks

In my master bedroom, I crawled into bed, ready to relax. It'd been a long day. Nine full hours of hosting family at the house.

It was my siblings' idea to even celebrate our dad's one-month death anniversary. Was that a normal thing families even did? To have several portrait-sized photos of the deceased mounted on easels, circling the outdoor dining tables where company was shared over catered cuisine. The whole shit felt off to me. But, then again, the past few months had been nothing but bizarre.

Safe to say that my father's hospitalization had deflated the entire holiday season for all. Time had instead been devoted to frequent hospital visits and long nights, all culminating in a cold, winter funeral.

During this time, I'd especially felt like a detached bystander, relying on my brother and sister when it came to the paperwork and arrangements. They were better at dealing with that stuff. Belle, bless my wife's generous soul, had also extended her kindness. It was her idea to host the larger family at our house today.

Belle exited our en suite bathroom, brushing her blonde hair after a shower. I watched her mosey toward me, admiring her natural beauty on full display.

I loved that she was making her plain nightgown look effortlessly sexy, with her full breasts shaping soft cotton, her long legs extending way past the hem.

Fuck me, man

. This fairytale of a woman was igniting my libido at bedtime, inviting my imagination to clock in for a second shift today...

I immediately pictured Belle fifteen minutes ago, standing in our walk-in shower. The perv in me placed my Uncle Dave next to her, both of them naked and wet, standing on either side of steaming water. The two would stare the other down like a Wild West quickdraw, waiting to pull their taboo triggers.

"Yes? Can I help you?" she said with a giggle, sensing my stare.

"Just admiring my favorite model."

"Mmm, sure you are," she said. "You and I, mister, we've got some unfinished business."

I sat up in bed, coolly interlocked my fingers behind my head, ready to field her interrogation.

"So tell me," she said, "why'd you say that earlier about me and your uncle?"

"What'd you two talk about today?" I asked, cleansing my tone of accusation. "You seemed quite familiar with Uncle Dave. Didn't know you two were that chummy."

"You're silly," she replied. "Your uncle's just easy conversation."

"Is he now?"

"Yup," Belle said briskly, as if tempting me to delve further, if I so dared.

"So what do you think of him? Honestly."

"I think that he's handling life well, all things considered," she said. "First his wife passes away, then his older brother a year later. Can't be easy dealing with all that loss." Belle joined me in bed, placed her hand over my chest. "And how are you doing, babe? With today. The last few months. We haven't spoken much about your dad. What it's meant to you..."

"Well," I said, clearing my throat, more interested in other topics, "I'm sure it helps my dad's younger brother when he's got a niece-in-law like you: a sexy model to cheer him up in mournful times. Uncle Dave's a lucky guy."

Belle chuckled. "Okay Artie, you're clearly trying to make something out of nothing. Just spill it, silly. Whatever's on your mind."

"I'm just saying, B. You and Uncle Dave. The thought of it's kinda exciting, no?"

"In what way?" she asked, as if it wasn't obvious by now.

"Come on," I said. "You know what way."

There was a pause, a weighty moment of contemplation on her end. Belle then broke into a knowing smile. "I have no issue admitting your uncle's an attractive man. Like all the men in your family."

"Is he your type?" I asked.

"Tall with a jawline. Fit for his age. Whose type wouldn't he be?"

"You took quite a long shower. Did you happen to waste water thinking about my dear uncle?"

"You're really getting a kick out of this, aren't you," she said. (Note: not an answer to my question!)

"You know, Artie," she said, "we haven't talked like

this

since Nathan was born..."

"I know, it's been a while... But I've been thinking lately... That maybe we can start it back up. Our

talks

, at least."

"With your uncle at the center of it?" she asked. "You sure you want that?"

"I do," I replied—the same resolute words I'd said to Belle on our wedding day.

There was another moment of pause, as if she was giving me one last chance to reconsider. But I was two feet in, firmly planted to the spot.

"Okay," she said dubiously. "Let's

talk

..."

***

I guess this is the point where I mention that naughty talk was the tamest of my wife's and my predilections. Belle and I weren't your everyday couple. She wasn't a prim paragon of virtue. And I wasn't a dopey dolt dreaming of her corruption.

In short: We'd swung. We'd shared. We'd conquered. All of it consensual and with permission. Belle and I had always been transparent about our needs very early on in our relationship. We'd promised to love each other until the end of time, hopefully share pleasures with others along the way.

We accepted that some might think us deranged. To that, I'll just say that there'd been a reason why I hadn't married until later in life. I'd never found the right woman who shared my attitudes on sex and relationships until I met Belle Adelson.

Belle loved that women found me desirable, just as much as I loved that men lusted over her. There was a pride rooted in it, a secondary validation that we had, respectively, married someone that others deemed special and sought after.

This particular aspect of our lives had changed, however, when Nathan was born. Belle and I had abandoned our more adventurous sides to focus on raising our son. To that end, we hadn't ever discussed whether we were putting our past urges on pause, or leaving them behind for good.

But now... Now I was finding myself wanting to restoke old fires. When Belle said "Let's

talk

," I was pleased that she was at the ready, with a tin of lighter fluid in hand, to feed my current cravings.

***

Back in bed, Belle slowly slipped her hand below our covers, past the band of my boxers, settling on my growing manhood. I groaned in pleasure, loving her grip on me.

"It wouldn't be breaking any laws, you and my uncle," I said. "Frowned upon, maybe. But not illegal..."

"Wouldn't be our first ride on the crazy train," she said, starting to stroke me gently.

"Uncle Dave's got almost three decades on you."

"You like the age gap, huh," she said, reading my mind while continuing her hypnotizing handjob. Belle then tightened her hold, getting me to suck in breath. She brought her lips up to my ear, then whispered, "Why him, Artie? Why now?"

My legs tensed up from the pleasure, my mind starting to feel cornered. I snuck my own hand beneath the sheets. Began rubbing my wife's privates over her nightgown. Was she as wet as I was hard?

"Mmm, that feels nice," she said.

"Do you think Uncle Dave could've been a model back then?" I asked.

"Still could be one today."

"Yeah? You'd do a photoshoot with him?"

"In a heartbeat," she replied.

"You in a bikini. Him in tiny trunks. Saltwater dripping off your chest."

Belle let go of my erection and I feared she wanted to cease our naughty talk. But I was happily wrong. She shifted her gown up, so that my fingers could trace her slit, slip inside her opening. Oh yes, she was wet alright!

I continued my erotic screenplay. "After your shoot, you'd meet Uncle Dave for a drink. Some straw hut bar. Rounds of tequila shots. Fill your bodies up nice and warm. Then—"

"And then I'd take Uncle Dave back to my hotel room," she said, taking over the reins. "I'd sit him on the bed. Tell him I'd be right back. Give him a view of my backside as I slowly strutted to my bathroom. I'd return a minute later. In lingerie. Then I'd hand him a—"

"Condom," I said excitedly.

"Nope. A bottle."

"Of lube?"

"Try again," she said.

"Alcohol?" I asked.

"Warmer."

"More tequila?"

"Water," she said plainly.

"You'd hand him a bottle of water?" I asked, trying to make sense.

"Yup. So that Uncle Dave could sober up. I'd tell him 'thanks for the drinks,' then kindly escort him out. Wish him a good rest of his night."

I crinkled my eyebrows. "Wait, what the fuck?"

Belle spared a second to take in my reaction before bursting into laughter. I stared at her, incredulous that she'd swerved my fantasy straight off a cliff.

"What's going on?!" I asked.

Belle stopped to read me, hopefully sensing my annoyance. Sure, if this were some prank show with strangers, I might've found the bit utterly hilarious. But this fantasy felt personal.

Belle took a long breath, then slowly sat up in bed. "Yikes, you were serious... I'm sorry, Artie. Part of me thought you were maybe trying to pull one on me. Prank me or something."

I placed my hand atop hers. "No, I wasn't tricking you, Belle."

"We hadn't talked naughty like this in a long time. Felt like it came out of nowhere... I dunno, or maybe I'm just rusty at it. Got cold feet."

Now it was my turn to read my wife. Gone was her playful laugh. She looked apologetic, rubbing a hand back and forth across her neck.

"It just all seems random," she said. "Your Uncle Dave of all people? Like you said, I don't even know him that well. I could count the conversations I've had with him on one hand."

I listened with open ears, did my best to hear out her perspective. I gathered that tonight had been a lot. I'd piled my wanton desires on her without warning. She wasn't a machine that I could turn on to do my bidding. Her reaction made sense.

"It's alright, B," I said. "Let's put a pin in this."

I turned off my bedside lamp, then settled in for sleep. That was probably enough fire-stoking for one night.

***

The next morning, Belle and I were eating breakfast at our dining table, with our son seated next to us in his high chair. I had a baby spoon in hand, feeding Nathan his food.

"Tennis," she said randomly.

"Huh?" I said.

"Your uncle and I, we talked about tennis yesterday," she clarified. "He invited us to play with him. Said he plays at his country club on Sundays. I wasn't sure if it was an empty or real invite. Thoughts?"

"Hmm... I've never known Uncle Dave to be disingenuous. Tennis is a pretty fun sport once you get the hang of it. Good cardio too... I think we should do it!" I said enthusiastically. "What do you think?"

Belle took a measured second. "Debating..."

"Concerns?" I asked.

"What about Nathan? We'd need to find a babysitter."

"Already one step ahead of you," I said. "Eva's got experience in that department. She and Ken can tag-team."

"Wait, how about your mom instead?" she asked.

"Nah, not a good idea, Belle."

"But you saw her yesterday, how she was practically glued to Nathan. She absolutely loves him to pieces. Pure affection machine."

"That sure wasn't my experience growing up," I said. "Trust me, we don't want my mom's dated parenting style rubbing off on our son."

"Maybe she's softened over the years," Belle said. "Give her a shot, Artie. Do it for me and I'll agree to play tennis."

"Really, B?" I chuckled. "Those are your terms? Our son's life?"

"Apocalyptic much?"

"Easy for you to say. You didn't endure her apocalyptic household."

"You survived and turned out great, so I have hope!" she said. "Come on, babe. For me?"

I loudly sighed my reluctance. "...Fine. We'll give her a shot."

If I had my way, there'd be a hard limit on our son's exposure to my mom's patented dictatorial ways. At the same time, I knew letting my mother babysit for a day wouldn't be the end of the world. The trade-off was that my wife was agreeing to play tennis, which, having read the tea leaves, was Belle's way of easing into my crazy fantasy...

***

Chapter 2

Ponytail

My wife's got a sexy head. Is that weird to say? Never mind Belle's bouncy breasts, or her forever legs. I had a special fondness for the shape of her noggin. Especially now, with her hair pulled back against her scalp, roped off high at the back. Her sporty ponytail was so alluring that I bet she could pull it off at the swankiest of galas.

"Alright Neph, serving up!" Uncle Dave shouted from across the tennis court, before serving a slow ball my way.

I tracked the trajectory, shifted my feet, then smacked a cross-court forehand toward Belle. She completely whiffed on the return, missing the ball entirely.

"Easy on the pace there, Artie," my uncle said with a laugh. "Your wife isn't exactly Serena."

"My fault," I said. "You okay over there, B?"

Belle tucked loose strands of blonde behind her ear, gearing up for the next go.

My uncle hit another practice serve my way. This time, I returned it with a cheeky slice. Belle couldn't read the backspin after the bounce. Didn't even attempt to hit it.

"Nice slice, Neph!" Uncle Dave said, clapping his racket as applause. "This sport must run in our genes!"

"Too bad it hasn't rubbed off on Belle." I mockingly pointed my racket at her.

Belle stuck her tongue out at me, looking irresistible in her black tennis outfit. It was a pricey Nike piece I'd purchased for her, a short skirt and teasing top that I knew my uncle would enjoy laying his eyes on.

"Don't pick on your poor wife," he said. "She's just a newbie, still learning the ropes."

"Why thank you, Uncle Dave," she replied with a cute curtsy.

"Alright, Belle," he said, handing her a ball. "You try serving now. Remember what I said about your elbow angle on the toss. Pronate the forearm on the follow-through."

"Got it," Belle said. She settled behind the baseline then readied her motion.

My ears marked the thumping sound of her racket striking the ball. Then another thump of the ball landing somewhere close to me.

"Hey! I did an ace, right?!" Belle yelled in jubilation.

"Well hit!" Uncle Dave said, walking over to high-five her. "Neph, were you even looking at the ball?"