I would like for my wife to get a friend with benefits

Before we got married she had a past. A real one. The kind she didn't hide from me and didn't apologize for. That was part of what pulled me in. A woman who knew what she wanted sexually and went and got it without a lot of worry about what it said about her. I got aroused by her past stories instead of threatened by them. She loved that about me. I was her BFF, her husband, and her wingman, sometimes all three at once.

I didn't want to be the man who put a ring on her and turned her into someone else.

So I didn't.

She travels for work a few times a year. I always fantasize about her in a hotel with another man. If she tells me, that's a bonus and equally hot imagining maybe she didn't. A man who catches her eye at the bar, a swipe on Tinder, a work colleague she's had chemistry with for months.

There have been weekends too. An adult club we've been to together, and sometimes she goes without me. Walks in looking like that and comes home with that particular satisfied energy of a woman who got exactly what she went there for. No strings and no feelings to manage. Just her body, her appetite, and the freedom to feed it with cock.

People assume the emotional part is what does it for cuckolds. And for me, yes when she fell in love with someone else that hit different. Deeper. The ultimate version of it in a way I wasn't prepared for.

But this? This was always the foundation.

A wife who fucks other men because she wants to. Because she's wired that way and always has been, and marriage didn't change that, it just gave it permission. The angst is still there. It always is. That's what makes it real. But it's quieter with the casual stuff. Less heart, more heat. The low steady burn of knowing your wife is out there right now being exactly who she's always been.

Slutty, unapologetic and mine.

Just admit you love slutty girls.

She's still there right now. His hotel room in bed with him. The same sheets she fell asleep in last night with his body wrapped around hers.

Last weekend was just a few hours. A quick afternoon, barely enough time. Enough to make her flushed and satisfied but already wanting more. This weekend is different. This weekend she has all of him, Friday night, all day Saturday, waking up Sunday morning slow and unhurried with nowhere to be and no reason to rush.

Right now, in that hotel room, the morning light is coming through the curtains and she's half asleep against him. His body warm, his hands moving over her thigh and ass before either of them are fully awake. Two people who've already fucked each other last night and are rested and ready for more.

She rolls into him.

His cock is hard against her and she reaches for him, wrapping her hand around the thickness of him, feeling the weight of it, her body responding immediately the way it does with him. Wet before he even touches her. That ache of wanting to be filled by him again.

He pulls her underneath him.

Pushing inside he, she gasps into his neck, her nails finding his back, her hips rising to take all of him, deep and completely. Her body stretched around him the way it was made to be stretched by a man like him.

She loves this. The raw physical reality of it. The way he fucks her like he owns inside her body. The sounds she makes that she can't control and doesn't have too. She loves hotel sex.

Her orgasms come faster with him, harder, one rolling into the next until she's shaking and grabbing at him and telling him how much she loves to fucked by him.

This is just for her. Her weekend away from her husband and kids.

Just for them.

She loves him. Differently than she loves her husband, something she couldn't explain even if she tried. She just knows it's real. Knows it when he looks at her across a restaurant. Knows it when he pulls her close in the morning.

She couldn't get enough last weekend and now she has him until Sunday.

Her husband is at home right now thinking about exactly this. He always loved slutty girls. That thought comforts him in his bed alone with his wife gone.

Women who didn't apologize for their appetite, who dressed to be looked at, who fucked because they wanted to not because they were supposed to. Women with lip filler and crop tops and the particular confidence of someone who knows exactly what effect she has on men and leans into it completely.

He was always going to end up here. Every girl who cheated on him, every humiliation, every moment of inadequacy that carved out this particular hunger in him, it was all pointing at this. A wife who wakes up in another man's bed on a Sunday morning and takes him inside her again because she wants to. Because she can. Because her husband is at home aroused by the thought of it and she doesn't have to choose between any of the things she loves.

She has a home, a life, a husband who worships her.

And right now she has this.

His hands in her hair. His cock deep inside her. Her whole body alive in the most animalistic natural way.

Chosen Storms: His House

She felt butterflies throughout her body as she opened the unlocked door to Grant's city home. His place was quiet. Selena stood in the entry way and pulled her phone out and typed a text. “Made it ♥️.” 

Selena told Grant she would let him know when she arrived, so he would know she made it safe and was able to get into his unlocked home. 

Grant messaged her back quickly. “Just finished my first meeting, wish I could be there, make yourself at home. I left you a key on the counter so you can lock up if you go anywhere today. Be back around 6.” She looked at his message and smiled. The key was on the counter, a single shiny silver key with a short note underneath it. Had a key made for you, make yourself at home - Grant. 

Selena picked it up and twirled it in her fingers. Looking around, the place was clean. It was hard to believe she had only been here one time before. She is a married woman with kids at home so her relationship with Grant has always took place away from his home. Away from the neighbors and the people around him. 

Her suitcase was by her feet and her laptop tote still on her shoulders as she put it down on the large granite kitchen counter. Grant told her she could use his home office for work but the wide uncluttered counter, facing the window to the city, looked like a perfect place for her to work today. 

She had cleared it with Jalen, that she would stay at Grants a few days. A work trip. It was fairly common for Selena to travel for work. Typically though she didn’t have a choice, her company would tell her they needed her to travel for a project and she of course would. 

This time she was simply traveling to stay with Grant during a normal work week. Not a romantic weekend vacation with him or a quick get away to his winter cabin. 

She could already feel the weight of it lifting off her shoulders. She loves her kids but summers can be challenging for a parent who works remotely. Kids need to be driven to and from camp or friends' houses. Interrupting her on a work call telling her they are hungry. 

She made coffee with his coffee maker which took a minute to figure out, and then she settled in with her laptop. 

Selena didn’t expect it to feel so easy to be at his home. How domestic it felt to be in his space without him there. She worked through the morning, refilled her coffee, helped herself to yogurt and fruit. She answered emails, and joined a noon video call where she showed her co-workers her view of the city and told them she was staying there to work for a few day away from the family and kids and the chaos of summer. She texted Jalen after the noon call. “Working from his kitchen. He had a key to his place made for me. It’s a really nice space.” 

The reply came within a minute. “He made you a key?”

She smiled at her screen and let out a soft giggle. 

“It’s the city, you remember, you can’t just leave the front door unlocked.” 

Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again. 

“So naughty, you are living with him this week.” 

Selena read his message. Her body felt aroused and she couldn’t help but rub her hand along her inner thigh, her grey mini skirt riding high as she sat in the high kitchen chair. The same skirt Jalen encouraged her to wear. It felt unnecessary, wearing a mini skirt and white blouse since no one at her work would see much of the outfit over zoom at all, but she also knew Grant would love it when he got home. Her fingers traced along the folds of her pussy, feeling the wetness. It felt naughty being in another man’s house, her boyfriends house. 

“I’m not living with him, I’m staying a few days with him. Love you, I need to jump on more calls.” Grant came home at half past six with a brown bag of take out food.

She was still at the counter, one leg folded beneath her, reading through something on her screen. She looked up when she heard the door, and whatever she was going to say next didn't come out because he crossed straight to her and kissed her before she had the chance.

He clearly liked her outfit, or just like her being there in his home. Standing now Selena wrapped her arms over his neck as they kissed. Stretching her body up as the skirt lifted just below the curve of her ass. 

It didn’t take Grant long to place his hands there, pulling it up higher and higher until her ass was completely exposed. 

He lifted her placed her on the counter in one easy motion, her skirt up around her waist, his hands on the bare skin of her thighs. She laughed at the suddenness of it, then stopped laughing when his mouth found hers. His kiss was deep and unhurried, his tongue against hers, one hand cupping her face, the other sliding up the inside of her thigh until his fingers found her wet and wanting pussy.

He pulled back just enough to look at her.

She was flushed, chest rising faster, sitting on his kitchen counter in her white blouse with her skirt around her waist and her pussy bare and slick against his fingers. He took a moment with that. The image of her in his kitchen, in his home, right where he wanted her.

Then he lowered himself down.

His mouth moved along her inner thigh, slowly taking his time, kissing toward the center of her. She spread her legs wider and leaned back on her palms, watching him. When his tongue finally parted the folds of her pussy she exhaled everything she had been holding since she walked through his door that morning.

He licked her slowly at first. Long strokes from the bottom up. His hands pressed her thighs open and held them there as his tongue found her clit and circled it. She felt her whole body light up.

"Oh god," she breathed.

Her body had been primed since the moment she walked into his space that morning. The key on the counter, his smell in the house, the slow accumulated heat of a whole day in his house without him. It took barely any time at all.

Her thighs trembled against his hands as the orgasm rolled through her, her fingers gripping the edge of the counter, a moan escaping her that echoed through the kitchen.

He was working his pants off while he kept his mouth on her, not stopping, not giving her a moment to come back to herself.

When he stood he was already hard. She reached for him, wrapping her hand around the thickness of his cock, feeling the weight of it, that familiar ache starting low in her belly at just the feel of him in her hand.

He pulled her off the counter and turned her to face it.

His hands found her ass. He spread her cheeks slowly, taking his time, taking her in. His palms slid up over the full roundness of her ass and continued upward beneath her blouse, finding her large round breasts, cupping them, squeezing. She arched her back and pushed herself toward him.

She felt the head of his cock press against her and gripped the edge of the counter.

He pushed inside her.

"Fuck," she moaned. 

He split her open the way he always did. That particular stretch, the girth of him spreading her walls apart, the fullness that felt like exactly what her body needed. He went slowly at first, sinking all the way in, pulling out, sinking again. Letting her feel every inch of him, the whole texture of his cock. 

This is why she was here. This is exactly why.

There was no one else who did this to her body. The way he took her physically. The confidence of his hands on her hips, the strength of him, the knowledge that he wanted her completely and was going to take her. The emotional connection she has with him makes it the much more pleasurable

He picked up the pace and she stopped thinking entirely.

Her second orgasm came harder than the first, her whole body shaking through it, her face dropping forward. He didn't slow down. His hands gripped her hips and he fucked her through it, through the shaking and the sounds she couldn't muffle, through the third that followed almost immediately after, her legs barely holding her.

When he finally stopped she was wrecked and glowing against his kitchen counter.

He kissed the back of her neck. Then her shoulder. His hands moved gently over her body now, a different kind of touch than moments before.

"Come here," he said quietly.

He led her by the hand through the home, stopping only to pull her blouse over her head, her skirt dropping somewhere near the bedroom door. No bra or panties. 

She fell back onto the mattress and looked up at him.

He lowered himself over her. His body covering hers, his weight settling onto her in that way she loved. She felt small beneath him. His mouth found hers and he kissed her slowly, deeply, his hand moving through her hair.

When he pushed inside her again they both paused.

Slow this time. His hips rocking into her with a long, slow rhythm, his thick cock moving in and out of her. She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him deeper.

She looked up at him. He was looking at her.

"I'm glad you're here," he said against her mouth.

She pulled him down into a kiss instead of answering.

She didn't need to answer. Her body was already saying everything.

By the third day it had stopped feeling like staying over and started feeling like living there.

She had a drawer. Not an assigned one, she had simply needed somewhere to put things and opened one and it was empty enough and that was that. Her toiletries were on his bathroom counter, razor in the shower. Her running shoes were by the door. She had a coffee mug she liked and was quickly made hers. 

It all felt natural. She worked from the kitchen counter while he was in meetings, and sometimes he would pass through and refill her coffee without asking, giving her a smile. She would look up from her screen for a moment and then look back down.

Work was easy here. Quiet mornings, good light, no one interrupting her to ask where their cleats were or if there was anything to eat. She felt guilty enjoying that as much as she did. She texted Jalen every morning. Called the kids every evening. She missed them in the specific way you miss people when you know you're going back to them soon.

She told her co-workers she was working from the city for the week. Staying with her friend Grant. Getting out of the summer chaos at home.

On her noon calls they started commenting.

You look amazing Selena.

You seem so relaxed and happy.

Whatever you're doing keep doing it.

She smiled and kept her camera above the counter. Selena was glowing and felt happy and relaxed.

The evenings belonged to them completely. They cooked or ordered in. Opened wine. Talked the way they always talked when there was actual time for it, not an hour zoom call catching up. But whole evenings that stretched as long as they wanted them to. They walked the neighborhood after dinner some nights, her hand in his, stopping for gelato one evening. They kissed on a street corner waiting for the light to change and a woman walking past smiled at them. Strangers kept smiling at them.

She understood why. They looked like what they were, a couple.

The sex was woven through all of it. A lot of sex. Mornings slow and deep making love before his first call, her body still warm from sleep, his hands moving over her before she was fully awake.

Lunch sometimes meant a quickie, with her back against the bedroom wall and his cock driving into her until her legs shook, then both of them straightening their clothes and going back to their laptops. Nights were longer. Thorough. He fucked her in every room and she let him, knowing they were making each room theirs. Her body was so well-used and so satisfied that she fell asleep each night with his cum inside her and his arm across her waist and slept deeper than she had in months.

She glowed. She knew it and couldn't help it.

Thursday night he suggested they go out since she was heading home the next day. A bar he liked, neighborhood place, good energy on weeknights.

She changed in his bathroom. The black dress she had packed, short, fitted, the one that made her look exactly the way she wanted to look with the knee-high boots. She stood at his mirror doing her makeup and looked at her hand.

Her ring was on. She had thought about it. Sliding it off in the car when she arrived dropping it into the cupholder. Something about being in his city, being away from home, making herself feel unattached for the time she was with him.

She hadn't taken it off once.

Part of it was Grant. She didn't want to send a signal she didn't mean. He knew exactly who she was and what she was and she had never wanted him to think she was pretending otherwise, not even for an evening. She was a married woman who loved her husband. That wasn't something she wanted to erase, even as a gesture.

And part of it, she admitted to herself in his mirror, was that it felt naughtier with it on. Going out with her boyfriend with her wedding ring on her finger. Anyone who saw them tonight would assume exactly what they looked like. A couple. A happy completely at ease with each other couple.

She smiled at herself, feeling the naughty guilt of thinking about taking her wedding rings off and went to find him.

He was waiting in the living room and looked at her the way he always looked at her when she dressed for him. Eye fucking her as they moved over her slowly and settled on her face.

"You look incredible," he said.

She crossed to him and kissed him once. "Let's go."

The bar was warm and full of people without being too loud. The kind of Thursday crowd that was there to relax. Grant knew the bartender by name and introduced Selena as his girlfriend.

They took two stools at the end of the bar and ordered, his hand finding her knee before the drinks arrived and staying there, moving to her inner thigh when he leaned in to say something close to her ear.

She leaned into him without thinking. Four days of his hands on her body had made the physical automatic. She rested her head briefly against his shoulder while she looked at the menu. He kissed her head.

They were not performing anything. That was the thing. They were just being exactly what they were. A couple out for drinks. 

The couple beside them arrived, sliding into the two open stools, already laughing about something. Late thirties, maybe early forties. Well-dressed and good energy. The man caught Selena’s eye and gave her an easy smile.

Within minutes they were talking with the couple. It happened the way it does when the people on either side of you at a bar are the right kind of people. No agenda, just the relaxing effect of all having drinks together at a bar.

David and Claire. Married seven years, lived six blocks away, kids at home. Funny, outgoing, clearly a happy couple full of good energy. 

Claire was looking at them the way women look when they're reading a room. Taking in the body language, the way Selena's body angled toward Grant, the way his hand sat on her thigh rubbing her almost inappropriately, how the two of them smiled at each-other.

Her eyes dropped briefly to Selena's left hand.

Then she smiled and looked up.

"How long have you two been married?"

Not together. Married.

Selena felt the word land. Felt Grant feel it too, the slight shift in him beside her, not discomfort but awkwardness. That half second where both of them didn’t know what to say.

Grant spoke first.

"Three years," he said. Easy and certain with a smile. The answer of a man who had not needed to think about it. 

Selena felt warmth move through her chest. She reached up and touched his arm lightly, a small automatic gesture, the kind a wife makes.

"Where did you meet?" Claire asked.

"Through work," Selena said. Which was true.

Grant's hand moved from her thigh to the small of her back and she leaned further into him. Claire was watching them with a kind expression and smile. 

"You two look so good together," she said. "Honestly you are a sexy couple."

Grant chuckled. “We get that,” he said. 

David was looking at them with the same easy appraisal. "Second marriage for both of you? Any kids?"

The laugh came out of Selena before she could stop it. Genuine and sudden, the absurdity of all of it rising up through her at once. The truth and the fiction racing through her head. She wanted to tell them the truth but it felt too late for that. Her wedding ring on her finger, Grant's hand on her back, this perfectly happy couple beside them who had simply looked at them and assumed they were married. 

She pressed her face into Grant's shoulder for a moment. It felt naughty and the heat of it was arousing her. 

"Something like that," Grant said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. "Selena has two older kids, but we don't have any together."

Claire laughed, not needing to know the details. "Well whatever it is, it's working. You seem like a couple in love."

Selena lifted her head and looked at her.

"We are," she said. And meant it completely.

Grant's hand pressed warm against her back.

They stayed for another hour. David and Grant went back and forth about something sports related they both had opinions on, evenly matched, good energy between them. Claire made Selena laugh a lot while they had their girl talk. It was comfortable and easy and a great Thursday night out with another couple. 

David picked up the tab before anyone could argue.

Claire pulled out her phone. "We need to do this again. We're always looking for another couple who aren't boring." She smiled at Selena. "You two definitely aren't boring."

They exchanged numbers. The ordinary thing two couples do at the end of a good night.

Selena saved it under Claire Grant's city. She looked at it for a moment. Felt the weight of the lie knowing she liked Claire and could see them being close friends. If she gets together with her again she will have to tell her the truth. 

Outside the night air was cool. Grant pulled her into him the moment the bar door closed behind them and kissed her hard, his hands finding her ass through the dress and pulling her tight against him. She could feel him already hard against her and kissed him back with everything the last hour had built in her.

They pulled apart breathing.

"Well," he said, laughing.

She laughed into his chest. "Well."

He kissed her again then pulled back just enough to look at her. His hands cupping her face now, thumbs tracing her cheek. “I love you,” he said

Not the way he said it in bed. Quieter. Just the two of them on a sidewalk in the city, the bar noise faded away behind them, strangers moving past. 

She felt it move through her chest. 

“I love you too,” she said, pushing her face up to kiss him again. 

His hand found hers and they started walking but neither of them was really walking. She was pressed into his side, his arm around her. Half a block and he stopped and pushed her gently against the brick of a building and kissed her again, deeper this time, his hips pressing into her, one hand sliding beneath the hem of her dress and finding the bare skin of her ass.

She grabbed his shirt.

"We are on a public street," she breathed against his mouth.

"I know," he said, and kissed her again anyway.

She felt his fingers move to her pussy and she let him, her back against the brick, the sounds of the city around them, anyone walking past could see exactly what they were doing and she didn’t care. Her body was on fire. The whole night had been foreplay without either of them intending it. The word married landing before she'd said a word. Grant answering three years like it was simply true. Her ring on her finger and Claire's face reading them and seeing them. Mistaking them for husband and wife.

She was so turned on she felt dizzy with it.

"Grant," she said against his lips.

"Yeah."

"We need to go home."

He pulled back and looked at her, his eyes dark, his hand still cupping her ass and tracing his fingers on her wet pussy lips. He looked like a man who was deciding if he could wait or if he could just take her right there. 

"Now!" she said loudly with a giggle. And grabbed his hand and pulled him. 

They walked fast. His hand pressing up under her dress on her ass. She was already thinking about his bedroom, about getting the dress off, about all the ways the night was about to finish. She didn't move his hand, walking in public with her dress being pulled above her ass.

She was also already thinking about Jalen. About picking up the phone after and telling him all of it. The word married. The ring. How naughty it felt pressed against the brick of a building two blocks from the bar with her boyfriend's hand under her dress.

She knew exactly what it would do to him.

But first things first.