A Wife on Show

by Max Sebastian

  She was really pressing herself down on me, grinding against my hard cock. Feeling it for herself—making sure I really did want her, I really was turned on by her and the experience of watching her on that show.

  ‘You really meant what you said in those text messages?’ she asked me, a trifle out of breath, as I pulled the neckline of her t-shirt down to expose her bare breasts, so that I could squeeze them and suck on them.

  ‘Uh-huh,’ I said.

  ‘‘Cause you know, it was kind of naughty, the things you were saying,’ she giggled.

  ‘Maybe a little.’ We kissed, I breathed in the sugary scent of her favorite perfume and tasted her soft, sweet lips.

  ‘I thought maybe you were teasing me a bit, because I was right there sitting next to him at lunch,’ she said as I ducked down again to take those stiff nipples of hers in my mouth while squeezing her wonderfully smooth, soft, warm flesh. Taking what I’d craved so much when I’d seen it on TV.

  ‘I wasn’t trying to tease you,’ I said, innocently.

  She sat up on top of me, and slowly removed her t-shirt. God, she looked amazing.

  ‘So you really do have a brand-new secret fantasy you’ve never ever said anything about?’ she asked me. I sat up, taking her breasts in my hands, her nipples in my mouth again, one by one.

  ‘I never knew I had it,’ I said, seriously. ‘Not before you went and took all your clothes off for a TV show.’

  ‘You never thought of it before?’

  She pushed me back down onto the bed, staring at me as though trying to assess once and for all whether I was telling the truth, whether I was trying to joke about this, whether I might even be trying to get her back for some grievance I had taken from her doing the show.

  I just drank in the sight of her and ran my hands down her gorgeous body. She might have been the girl-next-door type, rather than an actual model, but then it said something that the model had been thrown out of the TV show in the first round, while Gemma had won through to bag the date for herself.

  She smiled as I groped her, as I explored her with my roving hands, as I panted for breath, my cock so hard for her as she sat on it. Leaning back, she let me take my time enjoying her body, she loved seeing how stunned I was by her beauty, and how much I obviously wanted her.

  ‘You never told me you had a thing for taking your clothes off in front of other people,’ I pointed out, my fingers now wandering down to her little pink lace thong, which was already soaking wet even before I started stroking her smoldering pussy through the thin lace.

  ‘I suppose I didn’t really know either... until they put me in that yellow box,’ she said.

  ‘So there you go,’ I smiled, stretching the little triangle panel of lace away from her pussy, exposing the startling lack of hair between her legs.

  ‘You like it?’ she asked me.

  I nodded. ‘It’s different. Do you?’

  She smirked. ‘It makes me feel all... sensitive... down there.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘It was rubbing against my jeans in the taxi on the way over here...’

  ‘Wow,’ I laughed, and pulled her down for another kiss.

  We made out like horny teenagers, and Gemma pulled me back up into a sitting position so she could help me remove my shirt. We kissed, we sucked on each other’s lips, we slid our tongues into each others’ mouths. We simply pressed our foreheads against each other and breathed each other in.

  ‘You really... want me to sleep with him?’ she said at last, in barely more than a whisper so that I might have missed it if I hadn’t been paying attention.

  ‘Did you really want to take all your clothes off in front of all those people?’ I threw a question back at her, as though to point out that her fantasy seemed somewhat shocking, too.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, grinning brightly.

  ‘So then,’ I said, and she giggled. I rolled her over on the bed, and pulled up off her, off the bed, before dragging her with me to the edge of the mattress.

  I noticed there were bras and panties scattered all over the floor. ‘Been having an underwear party?’ I asked her, and started peeling her little pink thong over her hips and down her thighs.

  She laughed. ‘Well you said you wanted me to sleep with my date tomorrow night,’ she said. ‘I had to find something sexy to wear for him.’

  My hardness throbbed at what she said. My pretty wife dressing up in sexy underwear for another man.

  ‘I didn’t even know you owned anything like this,’ I said, holding up her tiny pink thong, pressing it briefly to my nose to breathe in her wicked scent.

  She smirked, ‘I only wear them if I need to avoid a panty line.’

  ‘Or if you’re seducing a stranger you met on TV,’ I pointed out.

  She gave me a smiling eye-roll. ‘I guess...’

  ‘You don’t wear them for your adoring husband?’

  I kissed my way down over her breasts, and then down her stomach.

  ‘I guess I should start...’ she said, lying back as I slid down between her thighs, kissing my way over that familiar, and yet now so unfamiliar, hairless mound of hers.

  ‘I guess you should.’

  Her pussy was already dripping wet and flushed with blood. I clamped my mouth over it and she moaned long and loud. She tasted so good, but as I began to suck on her pussy lips, slipping my tongue into her burning-hot groove, it struck me that the sexiest thing about her were the noises she made as I went down on her. The silky sighs, the little soprano moans, the occasional whimper, the soft rise and fall of her deepening breathing.

  Panting softly, she pushed herself up on her elbows to gaze down on me as I fucked her with my mouth. She stroked my hair gently as I devoured her, satiating the hunger that had built up in me all through the filming of her naked TV show.

  The blonde color of her hair did seem to take the years off her, making her resemble the girl I’d first dated straight out of college. My lust for her was at similar levels, I think. But now it wasn’t purely out of the joy of having such a pretty girl in my bed: I looked upon her and she was my wife, now, but a wife who with any luck would soon be naughty enough to date another man—and take it as far as it could go.

  I had such an incredible view of her from down there, between her legs. It gave me a new perspective from which to ask myself: was I really willing to let another guy have some of this? And yet, when I thought about another man taking her—perhaps even sliding his big dick into this very pussy—it only made me want her more and more.

  I pulled myself up over her, lying between her parted thighs, lining up my hardness in front of her open flower. I touched the length of my shaft against her searing-hot pussy. She moaned—but then opened her eyes wide.

  ‘No,’ she said suddenly. ‘No—don’t. Please.’

  I thought for a brief moment she was playing hard to get, but then she pulled back, away from me.

  ‘Uh... everything okay?’ I asked her, confused.

  Her thighs closed, and she curled her legs around her as she sat up on the bed. ‘I... I don’t think we should... you know... if I’m really going to try to sleep with Aaron tomorrow.’

  ‘Huh?’

  She sighed, and looked all apologetic. ‘I just... I should be nice and clean and fresh for him, don’t you think?’

  Wow. My wife had never refused me sex before. My heart was pounding again, and I knew it was because I was thinking that the next time she actually had sex, would be with another guy. Naturally her refusal only made me want her more, upping her desirability ten-fold in my lust-fueled eyes.

  ‘Seriously?’ I said, fired up and yet still hard, so still holding out hope she’d give me something.

  ‘You think you can wait... you know... until after?’

  After. After she’d had sex with another man.

  ‘I’m so sorry, I just think...’

  God, I was so horny. I’d just gone down on her for ages, my whole world smelled of her sex. But at the same time
, I wasn’t going to go against her wishes—and part of me quietly liked being forced to wait. The anticipation was almost as fun as what I expected the deed itself to be like.

  But Jesus, how hard was that anticipation.

  ‘You want me to...’ she offered to stroke me, to use her soft hand to bring me off.

  I shook my head. I was going to wait for her to cheat on me.

  Seven

  She was still in bed as I woke the next morning, exhausted after the way we’d gone at each other the previous night, inspired by her public nudity and forthcoming date.

  ‘You working today?’ I asked her, as I often did if she remained in bed when I got up.

  ‘No, not today,’ she smiled enigmatically, rolling over to bury her head in the pillows while at the same time flashing me with that delicious rear since the sheets were hardly covering her at all.

  It wasn’t unusual for her to be in bed after I went to work. Her job as a nurse was governed by shift patterns that were as movable as they were irregular.

  ‘That’s fortunate,’ I grinned.

  ‘I swapped my shift with Janine.’

  ‘You swapped? When did you do that?’ I asked, thinking it a coincidence that she would arrange a day off today.

  ‘Last night,’ she said. ‘After you said you wanted me to sleep with Aaron tonight.’

  My eyes widened, and as I pulled my trousers on, my manhood stiffened. It wasn’t only the nonchalance of the way she reminded me I’d said she should sleep with her date that night—it was the fact that, knowing she was going to try to seduce Aaron, she had purposefully scheduled a day off beforehand. Getting her rest in ahead of time.

  My girl really was planning to fuck someone else.

  ‘Well I suppose you need to get your rest in,’ my thoughts surfaced.

  She giggled. ‘I have some shopping to do!’

  ‘Shopping?’

  ‘Well I really don’t have anything suitable to wear.’

  I glanced over at her open wardrobe, which was stuffed full of clothes, plenty of which she’d hardly ever worn. My eyes dropped to the floor, and the array of underwear that remained scattered from her previous evening’s attempts to find something suitable for her date.

  ‘You’ve got plenty of things,’ I said. ‘You’d look good in anything, Cupcake.’

  She rolled over and looked suddenly serious. ‘You know how long it’s been since I went on a date?’

  ‘Seven years?’ I said.

  She smiled, knowing that seven years ago had been our first date. Not quite to the day. ‘What if it’s changed since then?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t think dating changes all that much.’

  ‘Fashion does.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ I nodded. Pulling on my suit jacket, I noticed her pink lacy thong sitting at my feet. Fashions change—indeed. And maybe tastes, too, like the fact she had apparently started wearing thongs. On a whim, I stooped quickly and scooped up the pink thong, slipped it in my pocket.

  ‘Am I going to see you before your date?’ I asked her.

  ‘Probably not,’ she wrinkled her face briefly.

  I leaned over to give her a parting kiss, ‘Well, good luck, then.’ She avoided a direct kiss on the mouth, sensitive about her morning breath—as usual, though in all our years together I don’t remember her ever having bad breath. I kissed her soft cheek and breathed in the earthy, wicked scent of sex.

  ‘I’ll text you,’ she smiled up at me.

  ‘Great.’

  ‘And if you have a change of heart—you will tell me, won’t you? No matter when?’

  ‘I’ll tell you if it happens,’ I nodded.

  As I stepped away, backward toward the door, she casually raised one of her knees up, as though innocently stirring in bed, nothing significant. But it gave me a last view of her smooth, hairless pussy before I left her. I couldn’t believe I was giving that up for the night, allowing another man to take her.

  And yet it was such a sexy thought.

  *

  Usually I go to work and shut out all thoughts of home life for the whole time I’m at the office deep in the Chartreuse Building at Canary Wharf, in eastern London. I find it’s best that way—I don’t even have photographs of my wife or my parents on my desk. It’s no big deal, it doesn’t reflect badly on my domestic life. I just need fairly strong concentration when I’m working—I work as a financial analyst for one of the larger investment banks. I spend all day investigating certain key corporations in order to assess the benefits of investing, and whether it is time to buy, sell or hold shares in those firms. Even if I say so myself, I am pretty good at my job. My pay packet reflects that.

  Today, though, was not an ordinary day.

  To start with, I felt a gentle undercurrent of anxiety from the moment I left our apartment in Fulham. It wasn’t wholly unpleasant, either, strangely. Like how you feel when you wake up and you have great tickets to go watch your team play football against a decent opponent. You can’t wait to be there, to watch the game, to see those incredible players in the flesh—but you don’t know if your team can win that day, and you fear being crushed by suffering a loss.

  As I switched from the District Line to the Jubilee Line at Westminster, I happened to glance at a couple of tourists—and I swear, the woman looked uncannily like Gemma, so much so that I had to covertly surveil them to discover if my wife had some kind of secret twin out there. Seeing her with her partner was almost like a taster of how it might be for Gemma to actually be accompanying Aaron, hand in hand.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about Gemma as I arrived in Canary Wharf, and as I entered the Charteuse Building. Then, before I went into the elevator up to my office on the 14th floor, I received a text message from my wife, of all people.

  [Gemma]: Aaron just sent me a text message saying he’s really looking forward to our date.

  I had to hold my messenger bag in front of my crotch to conceal my hard-on. By the time the elevator reached my floor, my heart was pumping so hard I felt as though I was in imminent danger of some kind of cardiac event.

  I was panting slightly by the time I got to my desk. What was I supposed to text back to her? I wasn’t sure what was appropriate.

  [Michael]: That’s great! What did you text back to him?

  Her reply wasn’t long. Was she still in bed? I imagined her lying there, naked, woken by his text message, quietly stroking herself between her legs as she dreamed up a reply. As she thought about their upcoming date.

  She texted me an image—a screenshot from her phone, displaying messages between her and Aaron.

  [Aaron]: Really looking forward to our date tonight :-)

  [Gemma]: Me too! I just hope it’s not weird because we’ve already seen each other naked :-)

  [Aaron]: It won’t be weird, it’ll just be like a second date after a really successful first date ;-)

  [Gemma]: That’s good, because you know I don’t sleep with anyone on a first date ;-)

  [Aaron]: Well we’ll definitely call it a second date then ;-)

  Wow. I was almost instantly hard as a rock. My wife had been flirting with her date and had already virtually assured him that she was ready to sleep with him. Despite everything we’d talked about, I had to say I was surprised at how rapidly Gemma was going at this. She was really locking down the possibility of sex with this guy.

  I couldn’t believe how hot it was.

  ‘Hey, Michael. You got the numbers for FedEx Q1 yet?’

  I looked up from my phone screen to see my boss, Lance. My mind was blank. FedEx. Q1. Boy was I distracted.

  ‘Uh... they won’t be out until 4pm or so,’ I said, scrabbling about for an answer.

  ‘4pm? What time’s the earnings call?’

  ‘Five,’ I said. ‘Head office is in Memphis—they’re on Central Time.’

  ‘Right, right. What’re we expecting?’

  ‘Pretty sound, even after the cyber attack. Margins might be down a little, but we’re e
xpecting $12 EPS.’

  Lance seemed satisfied, even if my brain was down to two cylinders. I had some work to do before that afternoon’s conference call with the chairman and executives of FedEx, but I was fairly well up to speed on the industry, so it wouldn’t take too much effort.

  Meanwhile, most of my thought power was being diverted to Gemma and her little adventure with Aaron. I texted her back:

  [Michael]: He’s really keen on you! Exciting :-P

  Gemma came back fairly quickly:

  [Gemma]: Are you totally sure about this? Because I get the feeling that if I go for it, there’s no way he turns down actual sex at the end of this date.

  I guess it made me feel good that she was still making sure I was on board with this. It showed that she cared. I texted her back:

  [Michael]: I’m totally sure. You should see how hard I am right now.

  I suppose I was asking for trouble sending her that text. Almost immediately she texted me back demanding:

  [Gemma]: I wanna see! I wanna see! Show me :-P

  Goodness. I was at work and my wife wanted proof I had an erection. This was all wrong. We didn’t do naughty pictures via text, we didn’t do sexting. We hardly even talked about sex, let alone texted about it. And yet here was a conversation that had leapt outside the bounds of our normal day-to-day, as soon as she had first told me that Aaron had said he was looking forward to their date.

  I had to keep up my end of the bargain. I slipped out to the bathroom, and locked myself in a stall so that I could take a selfie of the erection in question. It was a little awkward getting the right angle, but there it was. I send it over to her.

  [Gemma]: Mmm... Me like... that image is going to stay in my head all day :-)

  By the time I got back to my desk, Gemma had already texted me back an image of her own. I wasn’t expecting anything much, so I opened the message app before I was entirely prepared for it—so as I saw the image of Gemma wearing nothing but some skimpy scarlet and black underwear in front of a changing room mirror, I had to quickly hide my phone away from anyone that might be wandering past my booth.