Guns blazing

"So Matt let it slip today that you invite him over for dinner when I work late."

You wife almost laughs when she realizes what the big emergency is and continues rubbing the lotion into her bare legs as you talk, smoothing the creamy liquid into the calves and thighs.

"What's so funny?" you demand. "I'm serious."

"Yeah, that's what's amusing." she giggles again. "It's just two friends eating together. What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is that it's another guy in the house alone with you," you point out. "Can't you see how that might be inappropriate?"

"He's your best friend. If you can't trust him alone with your wife who can you trust?" She shrugs and moves on to rubbing her other leg. "You can't lock me in a tower when you're not around, and keep me from interacting with the outside world. Do you really trust me so little?"

You feel your face go red. All the momentum of you storming in and calling her out on her private dinners with your best friend has been leeched away by her calm and reasonable responses. If anyone asked, you would have said you absolutely trusted your wife. There's no way she would cheat on you. But the fact that you never knew these dinners were happening just makes you so uncomfortable.

"I do trust you," you insist to your wife. "I'm just thrown because Matt told me about this but you didn't. It feels like if there was nothing to hide that you would have just said you were inviting Matt over while I was working. Instead, I find out now, after the fact, and it feels like a secret that's been going on behind my back."

Confidence swells in you again. That was a well argued reaction, you think to yourself, and you feel completely valid in questioning the secrecy of the their meetings.

"I didn't tell you precisely because there was nothing to hide. Matt would come over, we'd eat, he'd leave, I'd go to bed, and you'd come home later. By the time I woke up, I had a whole new day to be concerned with, so I didn't think anything of it."

"Matt says you invite him over because you like to be alone."

She blushes at those words, and you realize there's some truth to them.

"Matt's more intuitive than I give him credit for."

You don't say anything further, but let the ensuing silence pressure her into revealing more.

"Ok, yes, that's true in a way; I don't like feeling lonely. Sitting by myself, eating dinner and watching a movie with no one else just feels pathetic at my age. I'm not the most outgoing person, you know that, so it took me a long time to make good friends. Eating by myself just reminds me of my early high school days, when I ate alone because I didn't have the courage to talk to anyone. In the end they had to come to me."

You already know how her reserved nature had affected her in her teens since she was that same sheepish, shy girl whose roommate had dragged her to a college party when you met her. But while you do feel bad for your wife, she also brings up another good point. She's not that same friendless girl anymore. She did eventually make friends at school and college.

"Well, what about your girl friends?"

Ariana shakes her head. "They all have boyfriends and jobs, or in some cases families now. Arranging to meet up with them requires at least scheduling it a week in advance, whereas you sometimes only get 24-48 hours notice that you're working late from your boss."

"But..." You struggle to come up with any more reasons why this should bother you. It just makes you uncomfortable, but you're quickly realizing there's nothing you can do about it without coming off as a massive jerk. "I still don't like it."

Smiling gently, she rises from the bed and embraces you, with her face turned upward, big brown eyes staring up at you.

"That's okay," she says "I think it's sweet."

"Really?" You ask in surprise.

"Yeah." she blushes. "I didn't know I could still make you jealous."

She leans up and kisses you. You kiss her back while thinking about her with Matt, dinner plates cleared, wine glasses emptied, but with another bottle on the way as they settle on the couch, the living room dark except for the warm glow of the romantic movie on the screen. In that situation, wouldn't it be so easy for something to happen. She might lean into him, resting against his chest, as his hand gently caresses her thigh. Or their heads turn at the same time and their lips meet, accidentally at first, but with wine and the atmosphere, it quickly becomes intentional.

Whether its the movement of your wife's tongue rolling against your own, or the paranoid fantasies in your mind, your cock begins to react. It strains against your trousers, and nudges against your wife.

She giggles as she breaks the kiss and looks down at your obvious hard-on. "Sorry, honey, not tonight. I'm wiped."

Without a word from you, she breaks away and slips into bed. Disorientated, horny and utterly confused, you walk around in a daze as you get ready for bed. You have no idea what happened, but you're aware that you completely failed in confronting your wife about her dinners with your best friend.

You finish getting ready for bed as well, and slide in beside her. Her breathing has deepened so you can tell she's already asleep. Rest doesn't come so easily for you however, as you lie beside her, staring at the ceiling, distracted. Your imagination feeds you more images and scenarios, of your wife and Matt, unintentionally betraying you. Time and time again, it starts out innocently, but you can only see all the ways in which it could turn physical and sexual. And in spite of those terrible thoughts, the erection in your boxers remains rock hard.