A Husband's Hospitality

This last year I came closer to realizing my fantasy of sharing my hot wife than I ever thought I would. Nicolette is an incredibly beautiful brunette in her 40's with a slim body. She has a refined elegance, which makes her an especially hot wife. She drives a Mercedes and always dresses like she's in a high end women's clothing catalog. I love her this way, buying her expensive jewelry just to see her put it on. Even though she looks really sexy, always attracting attention, she remains surprisingly shut down as far as talking about sex or letting me try anything out of the ordinary. Of course I've tried suggesting our role-playing my great sharing obsession, but she gets really upset, as if the very idea makes her somehow cheap or slutty. She basically told me she'd never be into something like that and if I want it so bad I should find another wife. The problem is that after 15 years of marriage I still just want her now more than ever. It's just that I also want to watch her have sex with another guy.

Though I'm tortured by the obsession, she at least secretly teases me with it, as long as we don't acknowledge that it's happening. At best our unspoken agreement leads to her flirting a little too much with strangers or "accidently" letting a guy see up her skirt. I know it doesn't sound like much compared to a lot of the hotter stories I read on this site, but thankfully a little goes a long way for us. We end up having really passionate sex, so I guess I shouldn't complain.

Then this last summer my friend Chris texted that he was driving from Virginia to meet up with his band for a gig in Boston, and he asked if he could stay (or "crash" to use his term) at our place for a night on the way. I run a rather successful music studio, along with a related business, and I'd gotten to know him through my work. He's half my age and very cool. I like and respect him a lot, but of course I'm jealous, first of his looks: he has that rock star thin body with a prominent Adam's apple, a full head of messy hair, and this attitude like he kind of owns the world. He's also an amazingly talented musician.

More than all of this, though, I knew from the first time we had him over for dinner that my wife was into him. She laughed way too much at his jokes, kept rubbing his arm when she talked to him, and dressed way sexier than she ever does with me on our dates. You'd think that this would be an ideal set-up for my fantasy. I guess it really was, but at the same time it hurt a little more than I'd expected to see her use him to torture me. In the moment I did feel angry at her, but I've been getting off on that night ever since.

"So when's Chris getting here?" she asked, trying to sound casual while blow drying her long dark hair in her almost see-through beige panties and matching bra.

"I think around dinner time. Why?" I asked.

"I just want to make him feel at home." She was standing in front of the mirror at her make-up table, which was in the closet of a room she used as her home office. Just the smell of her hair and body after a shower drives me insane with desire. Now, watching her get dressed when trying to repress her interest in a hot young guy who I know turns her on made me reach out my hand and put it on her perfectly shaped ass.

"What the hell are you doing? I'm not having sex right now!" She swatted my hand away. Then, to make it up to me, but again without revealing too much of her own desire, she said really matter of fact, "Just sit on the sofa and talk to me while I get ready. We can plan for our guest."

It's not like there was much to plan. She knew that. This was all about her showing me how she "planned" to sex herself up more than usual for him. After her hair, she put on her make up like she always does, only I noticed this time she went for very red lipstick. What really got me, though, was that she also put on blue eyeshadow. She hadn't done that since I first started dating her, when we were both in our mid-20's, about the age of our guest. I started to realize just how much he must provoke that younger memory of herself, and maybe of me. Then she took out a light blue summer dress, which matched the eyeshadow, from a Nordstrom's bag. Just like that it fully hit me: she'd bought a new dress, obviously for him. She'd set me up to watch her as if she were getting ready for a date.

"How do I look?" she asked, twirling around for me to get a full view.

"Amazing" I said, trying hard not to grab her, considering how she'd just rejected my last attempt.

"So both the kids have sleepovers. I'll drop them off then pick something up for dinner. I figure he's tired from driving, so maybe we could all watch a movie."

Both kids having sleepovers? That was a little too much of a coincidence. She'd most likely pushed them a little into the idea, wanting the house just for us, and our young guest. Despite knowing how shy she became when it came to actual sex, at this point I had to pretend to myself that it just might happen.

"Sounds like you have this all planned out," I said, trying not to sound too jealous, or too excited.

"I'm just being a good hostess," she replied. She leaned down to give me a kiss that basically meant this is me, your hot but often rather reserved wife, trying her best to take care of your fantasy that I'm too reserved to outright acknowledge. As she kissed me, I saw the top of her breasts, and even a little bit of her nipples, above the lacey edge of her half cup bra. I knew he'd soon be seeing the same cleavage, and I both wanted and didn't want him to see more.

***

Chris and I were catching up at the dining table when she arrived with dinner. He got up to hug her, and just like last year as they talked she started putting her hand on his arm a lot and laughing too much at anything he said that was remotely funny.

What really hurt, though, was when she lifted up his shirt sleeve to fully reveal one of his tattoos. It was of the Morton Salt Girl: the yellow girl holding an umbrella as it's raining salt. Above it all was the caption, just like in the old print ad: "I'm in love with the Morton Salt Girl." Of course a great looking hipster musician originally from Brooklyn would have some cool retro tattoo like this.

"God I love this image, Chris," said my wife, outlining it with her manicured nails in that "come fuck me" red nail polish to match her amazingly full lips. "All that yellow must have hurt!"

Just like she used to wear eyeshadow for me when we first started dating, she used to flirt in the exact same way with the tattoo on my arm. It was her understated move that once got her showing me, and now him, how she was playfully interested. He was taller than me, so as she leaned close to look at his tattoo, he got a really good look at the top of her breasts. Filled with confidence, Chris didn't even show that much reserve in checking out the cleavage. As she stood there letting him look, still outlining his tattoo, it's like they both were pouring a full can of that Morton Salt into my wounded pride and burning desire. It hurt like hell, since I'd never been this close to sharing her, but it also kept turning me on.

When she cleaned up dinner to let us keep talking at the dining table, in the kitchen she announced a little too loudly how much the tag on her new dress was bothering her. She could've been telling the truth, but the tone of her voice sounded a little too theatrical. It was obvious she wanted our attention. Partly visible in the kitchen, she exclaimed, "Ugh! I've got to cut this tag off. Okay guys, don't look!"

Of course that made me, and I'm sure him, want to look even more. I saw him lean a little bit to his right and smile, as if interested but not taking the voyeurism so seriously. More than just getting hard at this point, my face felt flushed with heat, like I had a fever. Watching him watch her as she cut out the tag with a kitchen knife in her bra and panties was maybe the hottest moment out of all the sex I've had with her. Of course since then I've relived this moment a million times when getting myself off.

She even went to put the knife back before putting her little blue dress back on, her high, corked-heeled open toed shoes making her ass stand up even more as she faced the kitchen drawer. At this point I'd moved beyond my jealousy. I was locked into desire for her. Though Chris had rather blatantly looked, he thankfully didn't make some stupid crass comment, to me or to her. It's like he knew our secret game and wanted to help us take it as far as it could go.

***

Chris brought in his guitar with his backpack, and we ended up jamming a little bit in my basement studio while Nicolette went upstairs to answer work emails. A musician myself, it was always a pleasure to play with others, and Chris was really talented. Of course I was jealous of his ability to play music too, but like his great looks and style that attracted my wife to him, at least he wasn't a dick about it. A little arrogant, maybe, but ultimately he was respectful. Much like his night with us as a married couple so far, he played a few songs we both knew along with, as opposed to against, me.

We got really into it for a while, and I started to let go and enjoy the songs. It was a much needed release. Still, Nicolette had left me completely obsessed with her flirtations, and in the middle of him playing and singing one of his own songs, I found myself thinking how sexy she would find him if she were downstairs with us. As soon as we took a break I suggested we take her up on her offer of watching a movie together.

Walking upstairs to the guestroom to show Chris where to put his bag and guitar, I saw her in our bedroom right across the hall where he would be sleeping.

"You still up for a movie?" I asked.

"Sure, if you and Chris are."

"I just have to get comfortable," she said. I turned to leave, and Chris followed me, but then she suggested, "Why don't we decide now on what we'll watch, so we're not arguing about it half the night."

"Alright," I said.

"You guys can sit down. I just have to take out my contacts and put my glasses on."

She went to the bathroom down the hall while I awkwardly sat on my own bed and Chris sat in the chair beside me. It felt a little strange, her inviting us to sit, then leaving. Just like that she got us waiting for her, wanting to see her. Fortunately, she came back right away.

"So what kind of movies do you like to watch?" she asked Chris.

Chris started to tell us that he didn't watch many movies, but that he absolutely can't stand mainstream Hollywood productions. "But I'll watch anything with good sex in it," he added, smiling a little at her.

"You two really are a lot alike then," she said, kind of rolling her eyes to seem playfully annoyed. "I always feel like sex in movies looks so forced and unbelievable, plus they make me self-conscious." She was bending down in her dress to get her pajamas out of the lower drawer.

"You don't like sex?" Chris asked, clearly checking out her ass.

"I like sex, but I'm a prude. Just ask him," she pointed at me, as if to put me on the spot. "His biggest complaint is that I'm too much of a good girl."

As she said this, she turned her back to us and started to take off her dress. Then she stopped, and looking over her shoulder, she said, "Speaking of being a good girl, you guys need to turn around...or close your eyes. I have to change into my pajamas."

I gave Chris a look like this is a little silly, but let's play along, and sort of half turned my head. He put his hand in front of his eyes, then jokingly showed me that he was peeking through his fingers.

Like in the kitchen, she undressed in front of us down to her underwear, but she was a lot closer this time. We could really see her body, and even smell the little bit of Chanel perfume she wore on her neck. She put on a pair of tight, pink pajama shorts, which made her ass stand out. Again I watched him watching her, and was starting to get really aroused. Still a little too shy to reveal too much, she put on a matching top with just two straps on her shoulders, then took her bra off underneath. That was enough, though, to keep me and our young house guest really intrigued.

"You want an art movie then, with lots of good sex? Have you seen my husband's favorite? Belle du Jour?"

I know how much I openly write about my fantasy, but her so freely mentioning the movie that I secretly had once told her completely captures my great obsession with sharing her suddenly made me feel really exposed and self-conscious in front of my cool young friend. Like her teasing, though, it turned me on as much as it frustrated me.

An older French movie about a high class woman like my wife who won't sleep with her husband but becomes a prostitute behind his back when he's at work, what we were about to watch really reveals what I've always sort of wanted with her. I mean, I still watch clips from it and think about her in the place of the beautiful star. Her sharing that private movie that I'd risked confiding with her really messed me up. Now she was just offering it up to him too, taking it further than I'd imagined she would, or even could.

"I haven't seen it. Let's go with that," Chris said casually.

"Great. I know someone's excited to watch this with us. My husband says it's the best representation of female sexuality he's ever seen."

Jesus I was embarrassed. She had totally taken control of my fantasy.

"Come on guys. Let's go to the big TV in the living room. I'll make popcorn." We followed her down the stairs.

She sat in front of us on a plushy blanket, giving him the sofa, which left me on the reclining chair.

I won't retell the whole plot line, but for me at least it's the best of my wife-sharing fantasies all in one film. It starts with a frustrated husband having strangers spank his wife, which she shamefully shows she enjoys. Like my wife she's incredibly beautiful and elegant. She's also too reserved with her husband, who as a doctor showers her with an upscale lifestyle. However, when this woman takes a day-job at a high-end whorehouse, she lets disgusting men do anything to her for money.

What I'd almost forgotten is how in the movie this sophisticated married woman actually starts falling for a young bohemian thug with messed up teeth who comes for her services. She'll do anything for him, and becomes totally submissive. It was never my favorite part in the past, but considering our house guest, whose effect on my wife reminded me of this guy, I totally got off on the connection that I kept realizing she must have set up in advance. Watching it with her and Chris, I now saw just how far she'd planned to take my fantasy. I started to hope, and fear, she would go all the way with it.

As she watched the movie on her stomach, she'd open and close her legs for us, playfully kicking her pedicured feet in the air. Since the movie was in French with English subtitles, when there weren't sex scenes it could seem a little boring. In those moments I saw Chris stop watching the screen, and fix his gaze between my wife's smooth legs she had softened with lotion when getting ready for this night. Nowhere near a blanket to cover my hard on, I had to subtly start jerking myself off through my pajama bottoms. I don't think Chris noticed, too busy watching the movie...and my wife. But when she stood up and turned to offer Chris her bowl of popcorn, she saw me playing with myself through my pajama bottoms.

As she got up, saying she'd get us something to drink, she walked over and gave me a kiss. Then, on her way to the kitchen, she turned around to give me a knowing smile. I watched Chris fixate on her ass as she walked away in the tight pink shorts. I could tell he wanted her too, maybe as much as me at this point. I so wanted to let him have her.

***

As she stopped in his room to see if he needed anything before going to sleep, she ended up sitting next to him. From our bedroom I heard her asking about his music and his life on the road. She ooed and ahhed way too much over his successful tour with his band, delighting in some of the venues he played to decent-sized crowds. When he told her about a recent breakup, she started to console him. Then on Tinder he showed her a few women he recently dated, and a few more he was considering dating. They both made fun of the women's pictures and profiles, laughing a lot as they held his phone between them.

As the conversation got quieter, I walked down the hall to the bathroom, stopping at his door just to see them together.

"We're talking about all of his relationship drama," she explained to me.

"Is Nicolette giving you the needed female perspective?" I asked.

"She's been great," he said, putting his hand on her bare knee. He stared right at me as he left it there, with a look that said I know this is what you've been wanting.

She let him touch her like that for about a minute, but I could tell she suddenly got really nervous. It's like him taking control of the flirtation took away her sense of safety. As he moved his hand a little toward her thigh, telling us both how much he hopes to end up with an awesome wife like her one day, she abruptly jumped up, letting his hand drop away.

I knew how much she wanted to keep going where things seemed headed, but I also knew how ultimately reserved she became when it got down to actual sex. She'd tease on her terms, but not much more, ever. I still hated myself for stopping to check on them, thinking that I may have broken things up too quickly. At this point it's not like I could just tell her to sit back down next to him after she obviously had resisted his last move.

But before she left for our bedroom she gave me, or more like both of us, a little more. Reflecting back on this little moment, it seems like she knew how her sudden shy response to his touching her wrecked my fantasy. To her credit, she wanted to leave me with something. Thankfully, she really did.

"It gets cold in this room with the AC. I'm hoping this vent doesn't blow out too much cold air." She pointed to the one giant vent on the wall by the side of the bed, right where Chris was still sitting. "There's a little lever to partly shut it out. Here, I'll close it for you."

She leaned down next to him, this time completely revealing her breasts without a bra in her skimpy pajama top. As she struggled a little with the lever (it actually did stick), he put his hand on her lower back, as if offering some support as she leaned down. Of course she didn't need that help, but the move seemed rather natural. It instantly got me excited again. Then, he went farther than any man ever had with her besides me.

"Can you get it?" he asked, sliding his hand down her back and onto her ass. Even with her husband watching, and all of the resistance she always showed me, this time she didn't resist. She responded really submissively, as if nothing were going on. She just functionally kept working on the lever. "Not yet. Almost," her voice sound strained as she tried to act natural.

Taking this as permission, from her and from me, Chris moved his hand around a little, then started to reach down between her legs. The same long fingers that I'd watch play some amazing guitar solos with me in my basement studio earlier in the evening were now starting to play with my wife. I honestly thought that the time had miraculously come for me to have my greatest fantasy realized. As he moved his fingers further down, I started obsessing on the thought of his taking off her pajama bottoms. I know he shared the same thought, which made things even hotter.

Unfortunately, just like when he went from her knee to her thigh, the next move between her legs triggered a strong reaction against her going further. Though obviously interested in the idea, playing it out proved too much too fast for her. Of course she wanted and invited so much intrigue from him, but only at a safe distance, which basically was a lot like how she worked in our sex life. Again she bounced up, saying, "Okay, I partially closed it. You're all set."