I’m a good little wife, really…
My mom told me that when I married Tom. I should treat him well and be a good little wife.
Well, I sure tried, but it got a bit boring. The thing was that I have a fairly dirty mind, and I’d often envy my friends who fucked outside their marriage. I liked the idea of being a hot wife, but an inconvenient moral streak kept me back.
So I used my imagination a lot. And I have a good imagination. Soon, I started embellishing my imagination by dropping little hints that I might be having an affair.
There wasn’t actually another guy. I just made him up to make my husband jealous.
“Is he better at fucking than me?” he kept asking.
I denied it most emphatically, but I had mastered the art of the tiniest of shoulder shrugs, or the twitching of the lip. Those slight gestures kept him on his toes and on his guard.
He showered me with gifts and pampered me. He was always kind that way.
Several times, I planted some of my best friend Amy’s hair on my shoulder or in the back of the car. She’s a strawberry blonde and I’m a brunette, so he was pretty certain.
“Does he finger your clit as well as me?” he whispered in the back of a cab one time as we came back from the movies. My non-committal grunt made his finger fuck me so hard I kind of squealed, and the cab driver eyed us suspiciously in the mirror and asked if I was OK.
Then my imagination took off and I imagined other guys. I built up their images in my mind, and I masturbated over them in the bath. Or when I played with fruit and vegetables. Especially very big carrots.
It was fun when I got stray hairs from several of the girls' hairbrushes at the gym, and left them lying around in places he’d find them. They all had different colors.
“Just how many guys are you fucking? It's not just one, is it?”
“Only you, sweetheart,” I told him unconvincingly as I half heartedly kissed and sucked his balls.
“I’d give you anything, you know that, don’t you?” he said after I simpered a bit, and then sighed after I let him come up my ass.
“You’re so kind,” I told him. “The main thing you need to know is you’re the only one I love.”
It was a sort of half admission, half suggestion.
He pondered the situation for a few days, then asked me outright. “Would you like to fuck a friend of mine? You know Ben, my golf partner. He thinks you’re so hot. I guess I…I wouldn’t mind.”
I feigned shock for a few moments, then the tiny shrug and the lip twitch. “But I’ll only ever love you.”
And that was it. After I fucked Ben, he asked me how it felt, how many times I came, and what he did to me.
So I asked him if he’d like to watch me being fucked.
“I’d love it. But only with guys I choose. It’s driven me crazy thinking of you with all those guys you…”
“There were no others, honey,” I replied honestly. “I only love you.”
So we fixed it so he could watch me fucking his friends. And then I did it with a few of his selected business colleagues. And after they had gone, I let him do exactly the same to me, whatever it was. No matter how dirty.
“I can’t stand the thought of you with anyone I didn’t choose,” he kept telling me. “Promise me you’ll never fuck anyone but me and my…friends.”
‘There was never anyone, honey,” I told him without any of the little gestures. “I’ll always love only you. And I’ll only ever fuck you and your friends, because I can see it keeps you happy.”
That’s me. Honest. The good little wife.
Follow us and sign up for our newsletter. Get all our hot and spicy stories right in your inbox, never miss a hot story. If you would like to write for us, leave us a comment with your Medium URL.
