by Hannah Wilde
LET’S GANG UP ON MY WIFE
The Storm
By Hannah Wilde
Up here in Seattle, we get a lot of rain.
Whenever my friends come into town for a visit they’re always wondering how I do it, how I can stay so happy in a town that’s covered in water and darkness nearly ten months out of every year. You get used to it, I explain.
The thing is, Seattle rain may be consistent but it’s never that powerful. Sure, there is a relentless mist over pretty much everything, but the downpours aren’t nearly as torrential as the ones I’ve experienced in warmer southern climates. Even on the rare occasions that it does get as bad as a tropical downpour, our city is built for that kind of thing. All of the drainage ditches do their job and keep the flooding at bay, and most buildings have been equipped with precautionary measures to keep everyone bone dry.
They say that in Seattle you can always spot the tourists because they’re the only ones using umbrellas.
Because of this, we Seattleites have a way of rolling our eyes at the news of any impending monsoon. It seems like there is always going to be a storm on the horizon when you live in the Pacific Northwest, and it never seems to make that much of a difference.
My wife Amy and me have tickets for one of our favorite bands tonight, and despite the recent storm warnings there is no way that we’re not going.
“Hurricane Lilly is expected to make landfall at seven this evening, leaving commuters just enough time to get home from work,” the local newscaster announces stoically from the television screen before me. “It has been recommended by government officials that those who remain in the city head home immediately and stay inside with your emergency kits.”
My wife strolls into the living room and sits down on the couch next to me, her eyes locked onto the television now. “Do you think we should still go?” she asks, nervously.
I scoff. Amy is not from around here, and she doesn’t quite seem to understand the massive grain of salt that all of this should be taken with.
“We’ll be fine,” I assure her. “We’ll go to the show and then head right home afterwards.”
“But that’s when the storm is the worst!” Amy replies.
“They’re always wrong,” I tell her. “Always.” I reach out my arm and put it around my wife, pulling her close.
“Alright, but if we get stuck out in the rain I’m not going to be happy about it,” Amy tells me.
“If it was really going to be that bad don’t you think they’d cancel the show?” I question.
This seems to strike a chord with Amy, who suddenly nods in agreement. “I guess you’re right. Are you sure it’s not canceled?”
“Just checked online,” I inform her. “We’re good to go.”
My wife glances at the clock that hangs on the wall nearby. “We better leave now then.”
She’s right. I quickly stand up and grab our tickets off of the counter nearby. I’m going to be honest; right now the storm is the last thing on my mind. Amy looks absolutely stunning and I’ve been looking forward to this particular date night for months now. A little bit of inconvenient weather is not going to stop us.
My wife and I head out of our apartment and down the front steps, stopping only momentarily to take a look at the ominous black clouds that are beginning to fill the sky. There is a strange beauty to their long dark shapes, a warning of nature’s visceral power that I currently refuse to acknowledge.
“Let’s go,” I coax, continuing towards the car.
The drive across town to the theater is unexpectedly smooth. The rain has started in with a light drizzle, but it’s not nearly enough to slow down the flow of traffic. Even if it was, it appears that most people have decided to take the various public warnings to heart and just stay home tonight, or even get out of the city entirely for the weekend.
We arrive at the theater quickly and have very little trouble finding a parking spot out front. The rain is coming down a little harder now, but by rushing inside we somehow find ourselves relatively dry.
“Whoa,” is all that my wife can say as we enter the theater’s gorgeous, ornately carved lobby. The architecture is objectively breathtaking, but that’s not the cause of her outburst this evening. “Are we at the right place?” Amy continues, genuinely confused.
“Yep,” I reply, glancing around.
Despite the show being sold out for month in advance, there is almost nobody here. Glancing around the lobby, I only spot a handful of other attendees wandering about, and the show starts any minute now.
“Hey Amy!” a voice suddenly calls out, addressing my wife.
We turn around to see a muscular, dark-haired guy approaching confidently, flanked on either side by a handful of equally imposing male friends.
“Carter! Hey!” Amy shouts in surprise, opening her arms wide and giving the man a long, intimate hug.
There attention is locked onto one another and it’s not until I reach out my hand in introduction that they even realize I’m still here.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Amy blurts. “This is my husband, Luke. Luke this is Carter.”
We shake hands and exchange pleasantries while my mind is flooded with questions about whether or not I’ve seen this guy before. Amy clearly knows him well, but I can’t quite place the way that their lives are intermingled.
“How have you been?” Carter asks my wife.
“Good, good,” she replies, her entire demeanor shifting into that of a nervous schoolgirl. She’s swaying from side to side now, anxious in her own skin. “How about you?”
“Great!” Carter announces. “I just moved into the building next door actually! That’s pretty much the only reason why I’m here still in the city tonight.”
“You think the storm’s really going to get that bad?” my wife questions.
Carter shrugs. “Looks like everyone else thinks so.”
“Better for us, huh?” my wife jokes.
Carter looks her deep in the eyes as she says this, a vast collection of thoughts appearing to shift past in the depths of his mind. His pupils flicker with an animalistic attraction, and although I’d love to deny it, Amy’s do as well.
“We better get in there,” Carter suddenly announces. “Where are you two sitting?”
Amy glances over at me, not sure of the answer.
“Upstairs, on the balcony,” I announce, glancing at our tickets.
Carter nods. “Okay, cool. We’re right up front, but maybe we’ll see you after the show?”
“Hope so,” Amy laughs, a little too enthusiastically.
The guys take off into the theater, and the second they do I give Amy a quizzical look. “What was that about?” I question.
My wife glances back at me, a wide smile across her face that she immediately tries to hide. “Nothing, just an old friend.”
“An old boyfriend?” I continue.
Amy hesitates. “Yeah,” she finally admits.
Obviously, I knew this was coming, but hearing the actual words effects me in a way that I would have never expected. I’m not angry about Amy’s obvious infatuation with this guy from her past, far from it. In fact, the jealousy that suddenly floods my system now is tinted with a much more potent and complex emotion, something that I can barely understand as it courses through me.
In a very literal sense, I can feel my cock hardening slowly within my pants, swelling up at the thought of my wife’s simmering attraction to someone else.
“It’s fine,” is all that I can manage to say, suddenly hoping to change the subject. “You want to go sit down?”
Apparently feeling just as awkward and confused as I am, Amy nods, and the two of us immediatel
y head up a large set to stairs towards the balcony. We find our seats and are greeting by an incredible display of just how empty this place is tonight. From here, we can see a few small groups of people in attendance, but not a single row of the theater is filled all the way across.
Still, the show must go on.
It’s not long before the lights dim and the band emerges onto the stage. A low, rumbling bass tone sweeps out across the audience, immediately setting the mood as it shakes and trembles through our bodies. Even up here in the balcony the experience is incredibly visceral, and when the band suddenly kicks into their first song I am overwhelmed with emotion.
I’m not the most sentimental guy in the world, but this cascade of beautiful notes floods me with love and longing for my wife. I put my arm around her and pull her close as we watch, letting the feelings consume my senses.
It’s not long before that sensation from the lobby to comes creeping back, however. Soon enough, a powerful surge of lust erupts into the mix.
My mind is now wandering through all kinds of depraved fantasies, imagining various hardcore scenarios between my wife and these other muscular men. I imagine what it would be like to watch Amy take on her ex-lover, to hear my wife screaming with pleasure as he rails away at her body with his massive cock. I picture Carter’s friends all joining the fray now, shoving their dicks into Amy’s face from every angle while she struggles desperately to keep up.
This fantasy is crazy, I know, but the longer I think about it the more I start to consider that it might actually be something Amy is into. After all, she clearly wasn’t over Carter, and we’ve been adventurous in the bedroom before (although never to this extent).
I don’t have time to think much more about it, however, because suddenly the entire theater goes dark. The final chord rings out for a moment as it echoes back and forth across this room’s massive walls and then eventually dissipates into ominous silence.
Moments later, a generator comes on, faintly illuminating the stage and causing strips of light that run the length of the theater aisles to glow.
“I’m sorry, but we’ve lost power in the building,” a man says faintly into a microphone. “It’s getting really bad out there, and there’s no telling how long it’s going to take to get things back online. We tried to make it work but, I’m sorry to say, we’re going to have to cancel the show. We’ll be happy to give you all refunds online for your troubles. We’re very sorry about this. Get home safe.”
There’s a smattering of frustrated groans from the audience as people begin to arise from their seats, shuffling towards the nearest exit.
“Well, I guess that’s that,” I laugh.
My wife and me stand up and make our way out into the lobby, were folks are quickly hurrying out the front doors and into the ferocious downpour. Looks like things are picking up quite a bit.
“Let’s get to the car,” I suggest, taking Amy by the hand as we head out into the streets.
The second that we emerge from the theater’s awning it feels as though we’ve stepped into an ice-cold swimming pool. The rain is slamming down onto us so hard, and with such massive droplets, that it’s nearly impossible to see more than ten feet in front of you. I’ve only taken five steps and find that I am absolutely soaked from head to toe.
For a brief moment, panic strikes. I realize suddenly that I had completely underestimated the power of this storm, that this was not just something to quickly dismiss like so many other overblown storm warnings. This was the real deal.
I consider turning around and heading back towards the theater but then realize we’ll be kicked out regardless.
Fortunately, we parked fairly close.
“Come on!” I shout to Amy, grabbing her by the hand and leading her through the ferocious downpour. The streets that I had previously described as flood proof are absolutely overflowing with water, carving through the middle of the city like a raging river.
For a second I feel as though I’m about to lose my footing, but somehow I stay upright and the next thing I know I’ve arrived at the car. I quickly fish out my keys and remotely unlock the doors, then dive inside as quickly as I can.
Amy and me slam the doors behind us, completely drenched to the bone. We exchange glances, and then suddenly burst out laughing.
“This is so crazy,” Amy giggles.
“I know, I know,” I tell her. “I’m sorry.”
I can see now that her shirt has been completely soaked through, revealing her cute purple bra underneath, along with her beautiful toned physique.
“Looking good,” I tell my wife.
Amy smiles.
Realizing that the storm will do nothing but get worse as the night goes on, I quickly shove my keys in the ignition and start the car. Our ride comes roaring to life, but as the headlights shoot out through the rain I find that there’s absolutely no way we’re going anywhere. The rain is coming down so hard that I can’t see a thing, even with the windshield wipers at full power, and the road itself is so deeply flooded that I might as well try driving into a lake.
I let out a long sigh. “I don’t think we’re going anywhere,” I announce solemnly.
“They said we can’t go back to the theater,” Amy explains. “They’re kicking everyone out.”
My mind is racing now, trying to come up with any kind of solution to this particularly difficult and dangerous situation. I arrive at nothing.
Suddenly, there is a loud knock on the passenger side window. A dark figure is waving through the rain, then moments later the back door opens up and the man comes climbing inside. It’s Carter.
“You look like you could use some help,” he says with a laugh.
My first instinct is to dismiss him, to explain that we’re doing perfectly fine even though we are absolutely not, but Amy speaks before I get a chance.
“We’re stuck out here,” my wife explains. “I don’t know what we’re gonna do.”
I notice Carter sneaking a glance at my wife’s now visible cleavage, then smile. “Well, you two are in luck,” Carter announces. “My place is right over there, you’re welcome to wait things out with me and my roommates.”
Amy glances over at me, grinning wide.
Carter’s building is incredibly nice. A brand new high-rise that overlooks the bay and comes complete with all the trappings you could want from a modern luxury home. He’s located on one of the upper floors, with a deck that appears to wrap itself around the entire side of this building.
There are five roommates living here, which would explain how they can all afford the place, but the sheer size of the apartment is still breathtaking.
The second that we walk into the living room all eyes are on Amy, her body completely exposed by the newfound sheerness of her damp clothing.
“Let me grab you both something to change into,” Carter offers, then exits into one of the bedrooms.
We stand here awkwardly before Carter’s friends for a moment, not sure of what to say while they blatantly take in my wife’s gorgeous curves.
“Thanks for letting us stay for a while,” Amy finally says. “We really appreciate it. If there’s anyway I can repay you just let me know.”
There is a distinct flirtation in the way that my wife says this, and even though we all pick up on it, nobody is quite sure how to respond. Before they get a chance to figure it out, however, Carter returns. He hands each of us a stack of dry clothes.
“Here you go,” Carter offers. “You can change in my room.”
Amy and me nod in thanks and then head into Carter’s bedroom, closing the door behind us.
“What was that all about?” I ask my wife as she quickly begins stripping down.
“What was what about?” Amy questions.
“You were flirting,” I counter.
My wife stops, her bare breasts completely exposed as she stands up straight for a moment. “Maybe a little,” she laughs, then becomes slightly concerned. “Does that bother you?”
An expression of confusion immediately crosses my wife’s face. “It… does?”
“I don’t really understand it yet,” I explain, “but I’ve been thinking about it ever since we were back at the theater. I like it when you flirt with other guys.”
“It doesn’t make you jealous?” Amy wonders.
“A little bit,” I admit. “It makes me jealous in a good way, though. I know it sounds crazy, but the more I think about it, the more I want you to do it.”
Amy hesitates. “Do what?”
I swallow hard. “Fuck them,” I finally tell her. “I want to watch you fuck all of them, right in front of me.”
There is a long silence that hangs between us now, filling the air of this room with an erotic tension both terrifying and intoxicating. Despite the fact that my wife obviously finds these men attractive in fantasy, I have no idea how she’s going to react to the prospect of bringing this elicit desire to life.
“That sounds so fucking hot,” Amy finally announces.
My cock is suddenly rock hard as I reel from my wife’s carnal admission. I know that if I’m going to pull back, I need to do it now, but for some reason I can’t get my mouth to form the words.
“Let’s do it then,” I offer instead.
“Right now?” Amy questions.
“You saw the way they were looking at you,” I tell her. “Walk out there naked and see what happens.”
I’m trembling with desire now, as is my gorgeous wife. Without another word, Amy slips out of her wet pants and underwear. She now stands before me completely nude and exposed.
“Are you sure about this?” Amy asks me, a deep concern in her eyes.
I nod. “Do it, baby. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” my wife assures me.
Amy collects her thoughts for a moment, talking herself up, and then strolls confidently out into the living room once again. I follow right behind.
The second that the guys see us they stop talking, their mouths literally hanging open at the sight of Amy’s incredible body.