"I don't know, won't we get jealous?"

Alice nods, sighing. "You're probably right. I just got a little over-excited by the idea."

"It's okay," you say, stepping around the bed to wrap your arms around her. "Believe me, I understand the urge, and I love that you've got this exhibitionist side to you. I just want to make sure nobody gets hurt. These are our friends, after all."

"I'm so embarrassed that I said anything."

"Hey, we are married, aren't we? There's no harm in being honest with each other. It's not like I hate the idea of your hot friends flirting with me, I just don't want to make drama."

You look down and drink in the sight of your wife's flawless, Sports Illustrated figure:

Firm tits in a tiny tee shirt. Microscopic pink yoga shirts. Long, smooth legs.

"Then you're not mad?" Alice asks, looking up at you with those beautiful blue eyes.

"No, I'm not mad," you say, grinning...