Hot Dates: Becoming a Shared Wife (12 page)

“That’s my fucking girlfriend,” my husband growled. “Get your pants on and get the fuck out of here.”

Dave really looked like he was going to hit Pat and I cried, “Dave, don’t!”

“Shut up, slut!” Dave glared at me.

“Hey man, back the fuck off. Your issue is with her, not me. I don’t know you from Adam,” Pat shouted.

“Just get the fuck out of here.”

“Hey, no problem man. Have fun with your slut.”

Dave took a threatening step toward Pat, who finished fixing his pants and backed away. Dave tensely watched until Pat disappeared around the corner. He waited another minute until he finally turned back to me.

“Dave…”

My husband grabbed me by the arms and roughly shoved me face down into the back of the Prius, though he was careful not the bang my head. I trembled with fear. Had Dave lost control? How could he be angry? I was doing exactly what he wanted! He was the one who wanted me to go out and be with other guys. I would have never done this on my own.

I was jerked back by my hips and planted one boot on the ground outside for purchase, while my other knee was up on the seat. Dave rammed his cock into me from behind. It was sudden and violent, but I was soaked and he sank right inside me. I cried out—half fear, half excitement. My palms braced against the leather seats, I shoved back at him. Yes, the situation was messed up, but it did not change the fuck I still needed to be fucked. I needed it so badly that I’d very nearly let a stranger do it. I think that scared me more than anything else.

“That’s what you wanted, isn’t? You want to be fucked like some backseat whore?” Dave growled. He did not sound like my husband at all. I still could not tell how much was anger and what was lust.

“Yes! Fuck me!” I begged. Whatever else, he was right. That was
exactly
what I wanted.

“You were ready to let that little bastard fuck you...”

“Yes! Fuck I wanted it. Fuck your whore!”

Dave slapped my ass hard. It stung and I liked it. He seemed to enjoy the way I yelped, because he did it again and shoved his cock into me harder.

“Oh fuck, you slut,” he cried, spanking my ass as he fucked me.

“Yes! Fuck your whore! Fuck me!” I repeated it over and over again. I probably should have been disturbed, but I begged my husband to fuck me, to punish me. My ass was hanging out in the night, who knows who could have seen or heard us, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to cum. And I wanted Dave to cum too. He did it first, flooding me with his thick seed. It was only moments later that I was howling as my climax slammed me. Dave let go and I slumped onto the seat.

I just wanted to lay there. The night had taken all I had to give. But of course I couldn’t. My kilt was around my waist, my tights were torn and streaked with runners. I looked exactly the way I felt, and I had to pull it together. When I eased back out of the car I found Dave standing there, looking confused. I don’t think he understood what had happened anymore than I did. He didn’t meet my eyes.

“Uh, we’d better get home,” he simply said.

“Yeah. I’ll see you there, I guess.”

*                    *                    *

Dave and I didn’t say a word to each other that night. I got home before him, but when I came out of the bathroom, shrouded in a cloud of steam, he was already in bed and appeared to be asleep. That was okay. I don’t know that I was ready to talk about it either. I climbed into bed beside him, but I could not sleep.

I was back out of bed before dawn and sat in the kitchen, blankly sipping coffee. I didn’t know what to think. Things had gone too far with Pat, of that I was sure. I had been scared in the moment, but the morning after, when I was sober and hung over, I didn’t really blame him. You take a drunk guy, wind him up all night and then start ripping clothes off you can’t just expect him to stop on a dime. I know I’m probably setting the cause of feminism back a hundred years, but I can’t blame Pat for behaving like a guy. I’m sure that to him my no did not sound like a real no. Instead, I found I was pissed at my husband.

Dave had to see when I struggled with Pat the first time. Why didn’t he intervene then? Couldn’t he tell I was pushing Pat away? Didn’t he see our signal? He wanted to see what would happen. I could only conclude that Dave wanted to see Pat fuck me, and that angered me too. I thought I was clear I didn’t want to go there. Even if I was going to change my mind, that’s not a decision you make in the heat of the moment when you’ve been drinking all night and you’re horny as hell. I know I probably sound like a Pollyanna, but to me crossing that line is a big deal. Most people would think fooling around with other men is a big deal too, but I can see the shades of gray. Maybe I’m the crazy one. I think actual sex is something different, something special, I want Dave to think so too, but maybe that’s unrealistic considering his obsession. I couldn’t wait to hear what he had to say for himself.

Alyssa, our babysitter, had stayed the night in the guest room and she came down and interrupted my thoughts. I put on a happy face for her, but honestly I was happy when she was paid and on her way. The kids were up shortly after that and I got them fed and dressed for Sunday School myself while Dave remained in bed. I told them daddy didn’t feel well and he wouldn’t be coming to church with us.

Making small talk with the other ladies at Sunday School and then sitting and singing hymns was surreal. I looked at the people sitting around me—my friends—and knew they would probably stone me if they knew the truth. If they knew what was in my heart. They would call me all those things Dave had called me the night before:
Slut. Whore.
But they would mean it very differently. So was I a bad person for playing these little games with my husband? Nothing like sitting in church to make you judge yourself. But I was resolute. It didn’t matter what other people might think. Dave and I weren’t hurting anyone. This was only about us. But could we keep everyone from getting hurt?

Dave was up and about when we got home from church. It was cold and windy outside, which was the perfect excuse to park the kids in front of a movie and hopefully Dave and I would finally have time to talk. I was going to burst if I didn’t get some things off my chest. With the kids occupied in the family room, we sat at the kitchen table.

“I guess we need to talk about last night,” Dave opened.

“You think?” I couldn’t mask my feelings.

“Things got crazy.” He still had trouble looking me in the face.

“You could say that. What were you doing?”

“You know what I was doing. I was in the truck next to you.”

“Why did you wait so long to jump in? I gave the signal!”

“I didn’t see that. It looked like you had it handled.”

“I almost fucked another man.”

Dave was silent and staring down like he was trying to memorize the wood grain in the table top.

“That’s where all this is going isn’t it?” I struggled to keep my voice down. The kids didn’t need this conversation interrupting
Cars
. “You want to see me fuck another man.”

Still, silence.

“Admit it. That’s what you want.”

“I think it would be hot.”

“You think it would be hot for your wife to fuck another man?”

Dave finally looked at me. The fire was back in his eyes. “Yeah, I think it would be really fucking hot. You can’t honestly tell me this comes as a shock to you.”

“We’ve been fooling around and it’s fun, but we’ve talked about this.”

“You’ve told me how you feel and I’ve tried to respect that.”

“But?”

“But yeah, I’d love for you to fuck another man. Maybe that makes me sick, or a pervert, but if you want honesty, that’s how I feel.”

I just stared. I didn’t know what to say. In the background, I heard Mater racing Lightning McQueen.

“Watching you fool around these past months has been hot. It’s been so unbelievable. You’ve never been hotter, Dana, but I just think going all the way would be the ultimate.”

“Why?” I needed to know more. I needed to understand, because at that moment I didn’t know whether to scream or cry. I knew we were playing with fire, but I didn’t know it was
this
fire.

“I love seeing you like that with other men. I told you before, it’s like I’m seeing you for the first time all over again. You’re just a hot woman and anything could happen and I have a front row seat. But anything
can’t
happen, because you’re holding back. I can see it. Just because you’re not fucking these guys doesn’t mean you don’t want to. I saw it that night with Charles. You can’t tell me you didn’t really want to go back to his room with him.”

“I…”

“And it happened again last night. Something in your brain was stopping you from doing what you really wanted to do. You told yourself you couldn’t fuck that guy, but that wasn’t what you wanted.” Dave was flushed with excitement just talking about it. I could see this was the truth, what he wanted. He wanted it so badly that he wasn’t thinking about the potential cost.

“But don’t you think if I do that I’m giving away something that should just be between us? Don’t you think we should hold something back?” I asked.

“We’ve already gone so far. You’ve done so much, Dana. Is this really just too much? I know you had to think about it when I first brought it up because your morals told you all this was wrong, but you realized that was bullshit. The only right and wrong is what we decide. Isn’t this the same thing? Do you really think it makes you a worse person if you fuck some guy instead of just blow him?”

“No, I guess not. But that’s not entirely the point.” His logic made sense. But my argument was emotional, not logical. I had to ask myself, after all we’d done—I’d done—was it silly to be hanging onto such a sticking point? If I could be with other men, and like it, what was really point of holding back that last little bit. Clearly, my husband didn’t want me to. “What about us? I’m just afraid that you seeing me do that, that ultimate intimate act, will change things between us.”

Dave took my hands in his. “Dana, if I was going to have a problem, or I was going to freak out, don’t you think it would have happened by now? I saw everything last night, and it was hot.”

“And you’re totally okay with this? There isn’t any part of you that is scared of all this?”

“Scared, no. I know I love you and I always will. I know you’d never do anything to hurt me and that you’re not going to go run off with some other guy because he fucked you good. Nothing you do physically is going to change how I feel about you. But yes, there is this weird, sick feeling I get when it’s happening. I think it’s the excitement of doing something so wrong, not fear that it will hurt us.”

Dave was very convincing. I felt exactly the same thing when we were playing, and that’s what made it so hot. But I couldn’t just give up what I felt that easily. I couldn’t just sit there and tell him I’d do that for him. I had to be sure. “I’ll think about it, but I can’t promise I’ll give you what you want. I can’t cross that line unless I’m sure.”

“I understand, and if you can’t, you can’t.”

We left it there, but I was still as unsettled as ever.

The weather turned warmer and we held one of our famous backyard barbeques for the neighbors. It was nice to return to some degree of normalcy. We saw our friends and when I talked to men—the male halves of the couples we knew—there was no hidden agenda, though sometimes I caught Dave watching from across the yard and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was trying to picture me fooling around them. We had never even considered playing around with people we knew—that was well in the past—but that didn’t mean it had never crossed my husband’s mind. There had been many drunken nights over the years where something
could
have happened if someone had chosen to steer things that way. I don’t know that any of our friends are kinky that way, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think some of my friends’ husbands were pretty attractive. None of that happened. We just had good times with good friends and then if we had the energy at the end of the night, Dave and I would have the kind of quick, drunken sex that we’d always enjoyed after a night of partying.

Dave knows me well after almost fifteen years of marriage. He gave me the space I asked for. It was the only change of his getting what he wanted. If he pushed me and needled me I’d probably just tell him no out of spite. This was a big deal to me, and something I was not going to decide lightly. And I did think about it. It was probably on my mind more than I’d care to admit.

Fear was not the only thing on my mind when I thought about crossing that line. It was so dangerous and exciting. Dave had a point. My alter ego Dani was only really playing at being the slut. She never truly lost control. She always knew there was a line she would not cross. Maybe it was time to cross that line and give in to the complete carnal experience. Perhaps it was silly to be holding back that strange virginity like some Catholic girl on her prom night—which, by the way, I did not do. In my heart I knew what I
wanted
to do. I just had to break that last string of a puritanical upbringing that was holding me back. I had to decide it was fine to do this if it was what my husband and I wanted, and everyone else be damned.

We were still making love regularly, but we’d stopped reliving our adventures and it felt a little off. Some of the excitement had been drained from our martial bed. I didn’t think of it in terms that we
needed
that sexual game to make it hot, but it was just a spice we both really liked, and I wanted it back. Now all I had to do was figure out how to tell Dave about my decision. I’d been so adamant he was crazy before that I felt silly coming and telling him he’d been right all along. Luckily, Dave made it easy.

“Hey, I was thinking about getting a sitter next Saturday night,” I said, catching Dave as he grabbed a beer from the kitchen.

“Oh yeah?”

“I was thinking we could go on a
hot date
.”

“That sounds cool, but are you sure?”

I looked right into the face of the man I loved, the man I’d been with for almost twenty years, all told, and told him I was prepared to resume being with other men, maybe even fucking them if the mood felt right. “I am. It’s been mostly fun and I think I could make it even more fun.”

The smile slowly spread across his face. I was hoping Dave could take the hint without me spelling it out. “If you sure, that’s great. We should definitely go out.”

“I’ll call Alyssa.”

*                    *                    *

It turned out that Alyssa was not available, and neither were the grandparents, so it was a few more weeks before Dave and I were able to go out again. That left me with a lot of time to think about the choice I’d made. I was okay with it, but that didn’t mean I didn’t get tingles of fear and excitement when I thought about what it would be like to fuck another man for the first time in well over fifteen years. And it gave us plenty of time to fantasize about it in the bedroom. No question my husband was excited about seeing me fuck another man. The heat that had been in our love making when we went on hot dates before was back, but even more scorching. But it did leave us with something to consider.

“What if I go there, but you can’t really be there to see it? It might not be possible to set it up that way.” I asked. We were covered in a sheen of sweat with the covers thrown off of us and the ceiling fan spinning lazily overhead. He’d just given me another toe-curling orgasm and I rested my head on his chest.

“I know what you mean. We kind of set up our cars last time, but not everyone wants to go screw in the back of a car,” Dave conceded.

“We can’t come back here. I think a guy is going to want to take me home.”

“And he’s probably not going to have a convenient bedroom window open.”

I laughed. “Probably not.”

“I think if the opportunity arises, and you’re feeling it, you should just go with it.” Dave ran his fingers through my sweat-dampened hair.

“Are you sure? But…”

“I think you coming home and just telling me about it will be hot. I want to be a fly on the wall, but if we can’t make that happen I’m okay with it. I still want us to have the experience.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

Dave said exactly the right thing, as always. Even if I went off with some guy and Dave couldn’t be there to watch,
we
were still having this experience, not just me. We were doing this as a couple. I was not just going off to have an affair. But I still wanted Dave to have everything he wanted. There had to be a way. Inspiration struck while watching the news.

Our local news station was doing one of those reports testing local mechanics to see they would treat women differently than men with identical car problems. Of course they did, but that’s beside the point. The station sent a female intern into the garages armed with a camera hidden in a purse so they could capture the liars on video. It worked incredibly well and I wondered how hard it was to find something like that for us. I know nanny cams are everywhere, so finding a hidden camera could not be that difficult. It only took one quick internet search and I was offered all kinds of cameras, hidden in everything from watches to pens to car beepers. And best of all, they were all tiny and promised to be easy to use. I ordered one that looked like a car beeper right away, but kept it from Dave. It wanted it to be a surprise if we got separated.

I was as prepared as  I could be—mentally and technologically—now I just needed to make sure I didn’t chicken out when the time came.

*                     *                    *

The faux-grungy bar wasn’t as crowded as we thought it would be. It was one of those hipster bars in a gentrifying neighborhood that was supposed to appear like it was still an old neighborhood dive, but really offered a large selection of craft beers, a digital jukebox and free wifi. The huge, scarred wooden bar probably did date from when it was a real neighborhood joint, as did the ancient linoleum floor, but the posters for old local music shows had all obviously been chosen with care, and the LED mood lighting just did not fit.  The crowd was probably only about half capacity, which was odd for ten o’clock on a Saturday night, and was mostly people in their twenties—guys with shaggy beards and plaid shirts, girls wearing vintage clothing. I fit in surprisingly well in a snug vintage-looking Red Sox V-neck t-shirt and a ragged, short denim miniskirt with flip-flops. The t-shirt was worn enough that the shadow of my lacy black bra was just visible through it in the right light. I hoped the casual/sexy outfit made me look younger, because most of that crowd was a good ten years younger than we were. I didn’t even know if I’d be able to find a guy in there who didn’t make me feel like I was robbing the cradle.  At least the bar was the last place we would be likely to encounter anyone we knew.

Dave followed the usual plan and came into the bar about a half hour after I did. I was hanging casually chatting with a small, mixed group that didn’t have any good prospects in it. At least the people in the bar were friendly enough. I stuck with the Dani story and told them I was recently divorced and had just bought a rowhome I was rehabbing in the area. Luckily I knew enough about the subject from my husband that I didn’t sound like an idiot when they started asking questions. Dave took a seat on the far side and I could see he was evaluating the guys in the group to see if they were suitable.

“I think you’re going to like it down here, Dani,” one of the girls was saying as I looked back from Dave. “It’s really becoming a walkable neighborhood. A lot of cute little restaurants are starting to open up.”

“Yeah, it’s a nice little community,” her boyfriend agreed. “I like the feel. It’s not that cookie cutter suburban bullshit. Everything down here is just authentic.” How would these guys feel if they knew I bought my faux-vintage t-shirt at Target?

“That’s why I moved. I was just looking for something different, you know? After a while, you get tired of the same old thing,” I said. I took his comments in stride. I loved my
suburban bullshit
life. I loved that I had a big yard with room for a pool and a vegetable garden and that I felt good letting the kids play outside. Here, I would have had a tiny postage stamp of backyard and the kids would have to walk four blocks to find any semblance of a park to play in. But as I said, these guys seemed nice enough, so I let their disdain for my real lifestyle go.

The group wanted to move to the back deck to smoke, but I told them I had better stay behind and wait for the date I knew would never arrive. Instead I ordered a second beer and risked a wink at Dave. I leaned over the bar and was pleased when the bartender, a shaggy kid in his early twenties, was not shy about peeking down my V-neck.

Another hour passed and I was beginning to think the night was going to be a bust. A couple people had talked to me, but no guys had made a serious effort to hit on me—not even any I had no interest in. It seemed that most of the people at the bar were in a little groups and pretty much only interested in their friends. Back in my twenties, I was already with Dave, but I remember that when we’d go out with friends the single guys weren’t shy about going after a girl if they thought they had a shot at getting laid. Maybe the guys in the hipster bar just weren’t interested in an older broad like me.

“Are these seats taken?”

I turned to the voice and found a tall, handsome man with a mischievous smile. He was clean-shaven and his brown hair was neat and short, which meant he stood out among his peers. He was wearing dark, plastic frames, which fit the hipster vibe, but they actually made him look even cuter, not like a poser. The baggy rust colored polo and cargo shorts made him look more pretty than hipster, which instantly warmed me to him after being faced with a sea of plaid and raggy old t-shirts all night.

“No, it’s just me here,” I replied.

“Cool.”

The second voice was to my left. The new guy had a friend. He was shorter, maybe average height, and broader across the chest. Although he was only in his twenties, his hair had begun to recede and he wore a neatly-trimmed goatee, but had a warm, kind face. He was dressed similarly to his friend, except that his clothes were rumpled liked they’d been balled up on the bedroom floor before he’d put them on.

The open seats were on either side of me, and I offered, “I can move.” But the boys insisted I stay in place and they sat on either side of me. Things were finally getting interesting. The guys both looked to be in their mid-twenties, about ten years or so younger than me and normally that would have been way too young for me to ever consider, but the first one, Zach, was hot enough to maybe make an exception. His friend, Josh, was cute too, but honestly Zach had most of my attention. Glancing across the bar, I could see he had my husband’s approval. Dave was probably already picturing me with my legs thrown over Zach’s shoulders. It was an interesting picture!

I gave the guys my Dani story after they introduced themselves, adding that my perspective internet date had apparently stood me up and that I’d been planning on leaving when I finished my beer.

“You can’t leave so early,” Josh said, putting his hand on my arm.

“I can’t?”

“No. It’s way too early to go home. Besides, you can’t let that jerk ruin your night. What was his name?” Zach said. He sat just slightly closer than Josh, close enough that our bare legs touched and our arms brushed when we moved.

“Dave,” I replied, the trace of a smile playing over his lips.

“Dave sounds like an asshole,” Zach said.

“What’s his deal? What did he say he did?” Josh asked.

“He’s a cop,” I lied.

“That’s what he
said
he does. You can’t trust these dudes on the internet.”

“No, I’ve seen a picture of him in uniform. I know he’s a cop.” I was making it all up, of course, but I got a tingle below when I thought about Dave in a policeman’s uniform handcuffing me and giving me a pat down. I would have to mention that to him later.

“He’s definitely an asshole then. Never met a cop I liked,” Zach said with conviction.

“Oh? Have you had a lot of run-ins with the police?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t say a lot. Not anymore than normal,” he said.

“Is it normal to have any?”

“You’ve never been pulled over for a ticket?”