by Vivian Ward
“Yeah,”I laugh, sipping my margarita. “Wanna go inside and see if we have any messages on any of the sites? It’s Friday night; maybe we’ll get lucky.”
“Sure, let’s go,” he swings his arm around me as we stagger into the house.
We pull up an extra chair at the computer so we can sit together while we go through messages. Brett’s on his fifth margarita while I’m still on number three.
“Nothing here,” I say after I log into our email. We made a special email address just for chatting with potential guys, so we don’t have to give out our real info. “Let’s check SwingLifestyle.”
“Yeah, I didn’t think there’d be anything in the email,” he gulps down most of his liquor.
Logging into SwingLifestyle, I see there’s not much there. A few random IM’s from people just saying, “Hey” on different days.
“OKCupid?” I ask him, unimpressed with our progress thus far.
“Third time’s a charm, right?”
Tipping my glass, I taste the salt on the rim of the glass followed by a sweet lime and tequila mixture as I log into OKC.
The message icon is red, indicating I have a message. My eyes light up as I look over at Brett.
“Maybe you’re right!”
Clicking on the icon, I open the message.
“Hi, I’m a foreign exchange student. I thought you were gorgeous and wanted to know if you’d give me a shot.”
I hover the mouse over his profile picture, and he seriously looks like he’s 12-years-old. His skinny body is sporting a thin, black tank top that showcases his stick-like arms poking out from the sides. The overly large black-rimmed glasses on his tiny head look ridiculous, and his ears are a bit too large for him.
Gee, what a hottie…. I roll my eyes.
My husband doesn’t even try to hide his laughter. Explosive laughter roars through the house.
“Go ahead, keep laughing,” I mutter, unamused.
“C’mon babe, that was fucking funny.”
“Mhmm,” I grab my glass and start for the kitchen. “I’m getting another. You want more?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
I pour myself another full glass and take a swig once I’m sitting back down. This tequila is starting to hit me.
“You know what?” he asks. “What would you say if I gave you a hall pass tonight to go do whatever you wanted?”
I take a long, slow gulp as I study his face. I’m not sure if he's serious or not and if he is, is it because of the alcohol? He’s had double what I’ve had, and I’m feeling it pretty good.
I’m not drunk, but I’m pretty lit.
“What do you mean?” I finally say, wiping the salt away from my the corners of my mouth.
“Exactly what I said,” he leans forward and puts his hand on my knees. “Go out tonight. Have some fun.”
I’m shocked. We’ve always talked about it being him and me in a threesome, and maybe every once in a while I could play solo.
And since nothing’s happened so far, I can’t believe he’s going to let me go out to play alone. I’m almost scared to ask if he’s sure.
Part of me is excited. It’ll be like it was before I was attached. Back when I could go out to the bar, freely flirt and fuck anyone I wanted.
But part of me is nervous. Way fucking nervous. It’s been so long since I’ve played out in the field. My body’s not like it was when I was 21 before I had all of our children, and this is a big deal.
It’s a big step.
Holy shit.
“Really?” I ask. “Why?”
“You deserve it. I told you from the beginning; your pleasure is what matters most. We’re not having any luck with the guys online, and I know you were bummed out about Jeremy.”
“I don’t want a hall pass because Jeremy turned me down.” The thought of what he’s insinuating pisses me off. “I don’t need a pity pass.”
“Cathy, it’s not like that. It’s just that as much as I want to be part of it and have a threesome to share you, I want you to have fun. None of this has been fun so far.”
“You can say that again,” I mumble.
“See?” he raises his eyebrows. “We don’t have a sitter tonight and the weather’s kind of crappy since it’s been raining off and on. I’ll stay here with the kids while you go out and find some hot guy to hook up with. There’s just one promise you have to make me.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“I get LOTS of sexy pics and videos. And you be careful.”
“That’s two promises,” I tease.
“Well, the first part is a promise, the second part is common sense.”
“I don’t know,” I say, debating if I want to go out alone.
I’m still not sure that I can do it, that I can go out alone without him. What if I fail?
But what if you score?
That’s almost scarier.
“You might not get another one for a very long time,” he warns. “I’m only giving you tonight to go out if you want to try it out and have some fun. This isn’t a standing offer so you either take it or leave it.”
I don’t know what I want to do. Part of me wants to go and see if I’ve still ‘got it,' but I don’t know if I can do it.
Go through with it, I mean.
I’ve only been his for so long, and I was relieved the day that Jeremy helped me move at the old house when nothing happened.
What would it even feel like to have sex with another man knowing that my husband is waiting at home?
Waiting while knowing what I’m doing. He’ll know that there’s another man inside of me. And he’ll want to fuck me the minute I’m back in the door.
That’s been a big part of this whole thing.
The reclaim sex is the most important aspect of me being with other men. It’s all about Brett taking back what’s his.
And that’s the part that turns me on the most.
Just the thought of another guy fucking me and then my husband reclaiming me after another man has been inside of me is enough to get me wet.
“You’re sure?” I ask.
“As sure as I’ll ever be,” he raises his glass in the air before polishing off his drink.
“Let me freshen up a bit first. Gotta look good if I’m baiting guys,” I flash a small grin and wink at him.
While it’s fun to think I might find a guy to hook up with, the odds are that I’ll likely run into some of my old co-workers, do a bit of flirting and come home for a really good fuck.
As much as Brett wants another guy to have his way with me, I know he’d be just as turned on if I came home with a juicy story about me flirting with someone, but I take a condom with me just in case.
We have plenty of them left over from before Brett got fixed since we only had to use them for a short time until the doctor gave him the all-clear at his post-vasectomy checkup.
The bar is completely packed. Every parking space is taken up, so I had to park along the perimeter of the lot next to what used to be a gas station.
Making my way inside, I pull the old, cheaply made door open and the musty air, a combination of beer and cigarette smoke, fill my senses. It’s almost enough to repulse me, but I’m used to it before the door even closes behind me.
Scanning the bar, I see an acquaintance of mine; Ray, my friend’s brother. He used to manage a local furniture store but quit when they got bought out because the owners were jerks. He’s another one who could be on my list of potentials, but it appears that he’s on a double date. He’s sitting at a booth table with a girl and another couple.
Apparently, he sees me too because we make eye contact and he waves. Returning the gesture, I wave back and mouth, “Hi Ray.”
Combing through the rest of the crowd, I spot a tall black man standing near the bar. As I’m checking him out, he notices me and waits for me to catch on to the fact that he’s watching me drink in his appearance.
His jeans are dark denim, and he’s wearing a red polo with a thick go
ld chain and black wristwatch, looks like an Apple watch. He’s dressed simple, not anything overly impressive but there’s a warm welcome about his appearance.
I feel the heat in my cheeks as our eyes meet and I discover the fact that he’s been watching me this whole time. There’s no doubt that my crimson cheeks are giving me away as he nods at me.
I flash him a big, cheesy grin and wink at him.
Oh, my God, Cathy! What the fuck are you doing? Did you just wink at that guy?
Something tells me that this is my guy. He’s the one.
Gathering up my courage, I make my way over to him and motion for the barkeep to bring me a drink.
“Tequila sunrise,” I shout over the music.
While I’m waiting for my drink, I notice that he appears to be alone and I don’t see a ring on his finger.
Once I have my drink in hand, I stand next to the handsome stranger and smile up at him as I sip through the straw.
“Hi, my name’s Arden,” he extends his arm to shake hands.
“Cathy,” I yell so he can hear me, taking his hand. “Nice to meet you. You here with anyone tonight?”
“No, actually, I’m a truck driver, and this is where I come when I stop in town for the night.”
I pull my phone out and to text Brett.
C: I met a guy, and we’re talking.