At last, a new book from me! Well, kind of. It’s a collection of short stories (all but one of them completely new to you). Between books, ideas often strike me that don’t have enough to become full-length novel material, but need to get written anyway. I’ve collected the shorts I’ve created over the past year and bundled them into Wife Sharing Shorts, Vol. 1. And as a bonus, Max Sebastian has contributed a new and exclusive story to this collection: “The Three Laws of Wife-Sharing.” Don’t miss it!
I’ve released the first of these shorts for free on this site (“The Ballet”), so check it out and see if this is something you’re interested.
Blurb after the break: (more…)
From the upcoming release, Wife Sharing Shorts, Vol. 1. Look for it on Tuesday, Jul 15.
“Are you sure?” Kara asked for the fifth time. I knew that this time was the last.
“I am,” I said. “We talked about this. A lot. Go. Have fun.”
Kara studied me, her expression unreadable. She looked gorgeous—and not just because of the short black dress she wore, or the way she’d brushed her dark hair into lustrous waves.
My wife looked gorgeous because she was about to go on a date with another man.
“I love you, Curtis. No matter what.” She stepped closer, resting a hand on my chest. Could she feel my heartbeat hammering away?
“I know, Kara. This is just a new adventure for us.” It was a thing we’d been reassuring ourselves with since I’d first broached the fantasy of other men, and Kara had admitted that it turned her on, too. “I can’t wait to hear all about it when you’re back.”
She stepped right up against me, filling my nose with her perfume—perfume she’d always put on for our dates. I thought she might say more, give me one last out. Instead, she kissed me, long and languid. I could taste the waxiness of her lipstick—bright red against her pale skin. Her hand caressed the back of my neck.
She’d kiss him like that later tonight. Could I handle that?
“Okay, I’m going.” Kara always had a sweet voice, but tonight it sounded husky around the edges. If I hadn’t known with absolute certainty that this was as much her fantasy as it was mine, that uncharacteristically throaty admission would have convinced me.
“Have fun, honey.”
The last bits of concern fell away, replaced by something mischievous. “Oh, I plan to. Definitely don’t wait up.”
And with that, Kara left for her date.
That night, I discovered what it felt like to hyperventilate in slow motion. To breathe and breathe and never get enough air.
In a way, I was used to this. Kara often worked the night shift in the ER, leaving me and our kids after dinner and coming back the next morning. But the kids were with my family this weekend, and she was going to have dinner with someone else.
As I ate alone, I wondered where she was. The plan was for dinner and an evening at the ballet—hence her getting dressed up. She’d won two tickets to tonight’s performance of the New York City Ballet Company and coincidentally, ostensibly, I couldn’t go because of a “work trip.”
The set-up was too perfect to pass up.
Every time I closed my eyes, I thought of them together—Kara and her ex. I’d only ever seen him in photos, and very few at that. After dinner, I headed into the den on auto-pilot, pulling down the old photo albums.
I had three photos from years ago, back in Kara’s Penn State undergrad days—years before we’d met.
On top was a photo of David by himself, posing in front of a navy blue Mustang.
He was the opposite of me. Where I was dark-haired and built like a runner, David was an All-American blond kid with broad shoulders and the kind of jaw I associated with shaving commercials and superheroes.
Kara was in the other two—a 20-year-old Kara looking happy snuggled under his arm. I could see the beautiful woman she’d become in the smiling girl, but it was still hard to connect the two brunettes.
Did you love him? I’d asked when I’d first discovered these photos.
She’d just laughed. David and I had a good time, but no, I didn’t love him. And then, as if by explanation, she’d added, It was college. You know?
I didn’t. My college experience mostly involved networked computer games and cheap beer. I didn’t join a frat—or even go to frat parties—and my only hookups were with girls I was serious about. Girls I could imagine a life with.
Thinking that Kara might have been involved in a purely physical relationship blew me away. I’d always looked at her through the lens of my own life.
It was college. You know?
She was laughing in one of the photos. Laughing at something David said? At the man himself?
My phone buzzed. A text. I didn’t want to look at it, yet I couldn’t resist. It was kind of a theme for us.
–done with dinner. headed to the ballet
My heart fluttered. My cock stiffened. The night would continue. Kara wouldn’t be coming home early.
My hands shook as I pressed send. I waited for a response for a solid five minutes before finally putting away the phone and moving upstairs. No response. She was already with him.
My thought was to take a cold shower, but even I’m not as masochistic as that. I turned it up high and stepped beneath the spray. My mind wandered.
Who’s the square jaw? I’d asked months ago, when I’d first found David’s photo in the attic.
Oh, just a guy I used to know.
Her cryptic answer had kicked off a discussion that led us here, to tonight. At one point, that journey had been so important. The what ifs. The hypotheticals. The confessions. Now, all I could think about was Kara in David’s arms.
When we’d looked him up back then, we learned that he’d gone into the State Department after school and ended up traveling the world. Kara and I had settled down in a suburb in upstate New York, falling in love with the schools as much as the Norman Rockwell setting to raise a family.
So when Kara friended David on Facebook and discovered that he’d be flying in for a meeting a few towns over, it took the fantasy to a whole new level.
A level that led us to the ballet.
My cock swelled in my soapy hands, feeling huge. I braced a hand on the slick tile wall and jerked myself in fluid strokes. I called to mind Kara’s dress—an LBD she’d bought specifically for tonight. She’d bought lingerie for him, too, a point she seemed to delight in sharing with me. She rarely purchased sexy underwear, relying on me to buy those things for her on special occasions. When I saw the black bra and g-string, the stockings with their lacy bands and the garter belt to hold them in place—all of which were new—it almost took my breath away.
I loved it. It was hard to admit, but I loved every aspect of this fantasy. Even the ones that hurt—especially the ones that hurt. I loved discovering this secret side of Kara, one that ran so counter to the mom I knew, the wife I loved, the doctor I respected.
Do you want to fuck him?
Yes. It’s all I’ve been thinking about.
Kara had been so excited when she’d admitted that to me. So fucking wet.
I thought of the text again. Headed to the ballet. That was sent what? Twenty minutes ago? Twenty-five?
My balls seized. I went light-headed. Stars clustered behind my eyelids. Headed to the ballet. The ballet. Oh God…
There was no ballet. There never was. It was code between us. Code that meant she’d decided to go back to his hotel room and sleep with him.
I came with a bark. That thought drove the wind from me as surely as a swift kick. And yet I came harder than I had in ages.
The shower washed my mess away as I recovered. Sapped, I dragged myself out of the stall and toweled off. My mind, for once, was blank.
I brushed my teeth, barely seeing my pale visage reflected back at me. Going into the medicine cabinet for the floss, I spotted a new box on the lower shelf. A box of condoms.
My chest tightened. It was open. Four of the six wrappers were missing. Four.
I shut the cabinet, forgetting about the floss, and crawled into bed naked.
Time passed, although I couldn’t tell you if I slept. I kept my phone by my side—in my hand, worried that I’d miss a text. We passed ten o’clock. Then midnight. Then three in the morning.
I must have dozed, but if I did, my dreams were filled with the same images as my waking thoughts: David and his All-American good looks taking my wife again and again. Filling her with his inevitably huge cock. Reminding her of the girl who could have a purely physical relationship.
I didn’t jerk off—not since the shower—but I never grew soft either. My wife was out fucking another man. Two weeks ago, the thought alone made me instantly hard. Now it was happening and it was every bit as intense as I’d imagined.
I was jealous, excited, scared shitless, envious, self-pitying, turned on… The list could go on and on, filled with paradox and contradiction and, ultimately, truth.
Kara was out there, another man satisfying her, and I was back in our bed. Alone.
And I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
Kara finally came home at nine the next morning—9:06 if I wanted to be precise about it. Her hair was wet. Her make-up scrubbed. She looked as exhausted as I felt, but couldn’t stop smiling from where she stood in the bedroom door. It wasn’t a smile for me.
“You have fun?”
She didn’t startle; she’d known I was awake in bed. But she seemed to see me for the first time.
“Yeah. I had a lot of fun.”
She entered the room, morning light spilling over her. She still wore the little black dress, but held her heels in her hand, and her stockings were gone.
I held out my hand. “Tell me about it.”
She came to me, sitting by the edge of the bed. She caressed my cheek, then kissed me on the forehead. Was that a man’s cologne I smelled? Another man’s musk?
“I will. But I need to rest.” She looked me in the eyes. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Yeah?” I didn’t add that I didn’t, either.
Her smile brought out her natural beauty—the way her cheekbones were more defined from those photos of her in college. Had David noticed?
She said at last, “The ballet was really good.”
“Good performances?” I started to harden.
“Great, I’d say.” Then added, “Better than I remembered.”
We laughed at one another. She was killing me. How could she read me so well?
She stood again and slipped the straps of her dress from her shoulder. With a shimmy, it pooled around her ankles. She wore nothing beneath—gone were the stockings, the g-string I’d spied, the expensive bra that I’d never seen.
Her tits, full and ripe, were marked with red where her pale skin had been mauled. Her nipples seemed darker than I remembered them being. But it was the sight between her legs that sucked my breath away.
The trimmed landing strip of hair—tidied up for last night—drew my eyes down to her shaved pussy lips, angry red from use. The last scraps of hope that this had all been some elaborate ruse evaporated. My stomach churned. I was both happy, and so scared I forgot to breathe.
“Yes, we had sex.”
Kara’s words snapped my attention back to her. She shared a rueful smile with me before sliding into bed on my side, edging me over.
She cut me off with a kiss, strong and demanding. She trailed a hand down between us, finding me naked. Finding me hard.
“Does it turn you on, knowing I was with another man last night?” She squeezed me, adding, “All night?”
“You’re not going to come yet, are you?”
My face tightened. I was. I couldn’t stop myself. I’d kept my orgasm on edge through the fitful night.
Kara dove beneath the sheets. I felt the wet envelope of her mouth just as I blew. She sucked and swallowed. I groaned. It was all happening so fast.
“Well,” she said. She crawled out from under the blankets and snuggled against me. The skin-to-skin contact was amazing.
“I’m sorry.” I felt humiliated having come so prematurely. Surely David had had more restraint.
“Don’t be, honey. I’ve had more than enough orgasms tonight.” Her smile said it all. She had my number.
“Tell me something. Anything.”
Kara tickled her fingers through my chest hair. “I still love you, and only you.”
I groaned. “Not what I had in mind.”
“I know,” she said. “But it’s important that you remember that. Keeps things in perspective when I tell you about how I let another man have me.”
“How?” I squeaked.
“Any way he wanted.”
Kara continued. “He first kissed me at the restaurant, around dessert. We’d been having a good time, talking about Penn State and sharing what we knew about old friends—apparently I’m better connected than he is, but that’s not surprising. It was fun, but tame.”
“Until the kiss,” I said.
“Until the kiss. After that, when I didn’t discourage him, we both knew where the night was headed.”
“Is that when you texted me? About the ballet?”
“Oh, no. By the time I texted you, I’d already given him a blowjob as he drove us back to his hotel.”
I was hard again. “You what?”
“Well, it seemed silly for us to take separate cars, so I rode with him in his rental.” She curled her hand around my erection. “Or are you asking about the blowjob?”
Kara laughed. “That was crazy, but fun. wasn’t my idea to do that while he was driving, but it was really exciting.”
She shifted over me. Before I even realized what was happening, she’d impaled herself on my cock. I sank into her without resistance. She was so wet, and so…stretched out?
Kara took up the conversation again. “I thought that every person in the hotel lobby knew what I was up to. It was so naughty.” She shivered. “We rode the elevator up with some others, so nothing more than some hand-holding went on there. But as soon as he had me inside his room…”
She looked down at me. “Go on,” I said.
“He stripped me. At least out of my dress and bra. We were all over each other, hands getting reacquainted.”
“He liked what he saw?”
“Oh yeah. He…he said I looked better than back in college.”
I thought of those photos in the den. “You do.”
She nodded. “Of course, he was trying to fuck me. He would’ve said anything.”
“And did he? At that point?”
Kara took a deep breath. “Yes.”
“How? What position were you in? How did it happen?”
“Well…” She started fucking me faster, undulating her hips in a way that sent amazing sensations along my shaft. “We kissed. We stripped. We found ourselves on the bed. I…” She checked on me, making sure I was still okay. “I rolled him onto his back, straddled him, and fucked him.”
Her confession reverberating along the walls of my soul. I would never forget them. Not for the rest of my life.
It also meant that she’d done the initiating. She’d been the one to sit on him, to guide him into her. To sink down on another man’s hard cock.
“Our first time was a lot like what we’re doing now, only…”
“Only?” I prompted.
“He was bigger than you.”
“A lot?” My chest tightened.
“And you liked that?”
Kara smiled weakly down at me, her orgasm moments away. “Do I like feeling a nice, big cock in me? Filling me up in ways that you never could?”
“Any girl who says that size doesn’t matter has never been with a guy like David. It was amazing.”
My balls tightened. “Kara—”
“And it wasn’t that he was so huge. It was that he knew how to use it. Some of the ways he fucked me… Some of the angles, the way he changed speed… The man had learned quite a few tricks since college.”
Kara grinded into me, squeezing down as I filled her. I heard her peak and crest above me, crashing through her own orgasm.
“Ngh, yes!” Her voice strained through the moans. “You feel so good. Fill me. Fill me, Curtis!”
Hearing my name in her cries sent warmth through my body. I stroked her hips. Her back. I kissed her in the shadow of her orgasm, our appetites slaked for the moment. We reconnected in that familiar kiss.
“You’re incredible, Kara.”
“I know.” She giggled. “Thanks for last night. I’ll never forget it.”
“I’m glad you went.” My insecurities bubbled up before I could stop them. “And I’m glad you came back.”
“Of course I did, honey. I will always come back.”
My heart skipped a beat at the implication. “So you think you’ll do it again?”
My cock had softened enough to slip from her warmth, but she was still close enough that I could feel her slippery excitement.
“I think that the ballet may come around a few more times in our future.” She laughed.
“In fact, I heard they had an encore performance tonight. Last night before they leave town.” She kissed the crook of my neck.
“Sounds like something you don’t want to miss.”
Kara pulled back, her dark hair spilling around us. “I’ve already said yes. Which is why I need my rest.”
She was going to see him again. She was going to see him and hadn’t even asked. I was glad that she hadn’t.
“Get some sleep, hon,” I said, slipping out of bed.
Kara turned over in the bed, tugging the bed sheets against her. She looked like a nude model, tastefully draped. “Where are you going?”
“Buying you some more condoms. You’re going to need more than two.”
She smiled, shutting her eyes to the happy memory of last night—and the promise of later today. “Actually, I still have four from last night, and I think there are more in the medicine cabinet… But, really, I don’t need them. They’re too small anyway.”
If you liked what you just read, check out the complete collection in Wife Sharing Shorts, Vol. 1. You’ll find three more stories by me, plus an exclusive story from Max Sebastian. Coming this Tuesday, July 15!