Next to the campfire

I glance at the house. I really don’t want to hear my wife having sex with another man, especially one who happens to be my friend. It will be best mentally to detach from them tonight, and see my wife in the morning like nothing happened.

I say to Phoebe, “Let’s continue enjoying this beautiful night.”

She snuggles against me, “I’m fine with that as long as you keep me warm. It’s a little nippy without my shirt on.”

I wrap my arms around her, and hold her tight while she sits on my lap. I say, “You seemed pretty comfortable being topless around your husband’s friends tonight.”

“I’m confident in my body,” Phoebe says matter-of-factly, “and I can’t pass up any opportunity to flirt with you.”

“Why do you flirt with me so much? You’ve done it since we first met,” I ask. Why am I asking this to a beautiful woman who is topless in my lap? I should be balls deep in her already.

She pulls back looking at me. Probably wondering the same thing: why am I not already fucking her? She answers, “Number one: it’s really fun to flirt with you. And you flirt back even though we’re both married so don’t give me shit. Number two I feel like we connect on some level. In a different universe maybe we could be married.”

“I don’t know,” I say. “I heard you made Joey wash your hair in the sink with filtered water for a year because you said the apartment’s water was too soft. That sounds really high maintenance. I would never do that.”

Phoebe laughs, “Yeah Joey’s my little bitch. But our relationship would be different, I’d tease you about washing my hair, you’d say no, then we would play wrestle, then you’d hold me down and fuck the life out of me. It would be amazing.”

My cock stiffens in my lap, pushing up against Phoebe’s thigh. I reply, “I don’t want to admit you’re right, but I can picture that happening. Plus it would nice to have a sugar momma. You made so much more than me when you actually worked.”

Phoebe laughs again, “Yeah I used to be a baller. I think Joey was jealous that I made more than him, and that my clients always hit on me, and bought me things.”

“You’d definitely still be working if we were married. I’d be a stay-at-home dad,” I say. I must be drunk. Instead of fucking this sexy little woman, I’m imagining an alternative life with her.

“I would’ve have made so much more money if I was married,” Phoebe says, “Those men love a challenge. Would we have done threesomes if we were married? For a huge profit obviously.”

I scoff, “You would pimp out our marriage!?”

“For the type of money, these men would offer? Yes,” she laughs.

“Then I guess we’re having threesomes. Is it always me and another guy?” I ask.

“No. Sometimes it’s a lesbian, and you don’t get to touch her. You don’t get to look at her. In fact you have to wear a blindfold, and handcuffs. It’s only technically a threesome because you’re in the room, and I ride you at the end.”

“Sounds hot,” I say. “Do I at least get to come?”

“Later after she leaves when you’re in the shower by yourself,” Phoebe replies. She sighs and snuggles against me again. “I miss my job. I hate being a stay-at-home mom.”

Damn. Did I really just kill the mood with my dumb talk? I rub her bare back, and say, “We can’t really talk about marriage before we find out if we’re sexually compatible.”

Phoebe perks up and gives a mock laugh, “HA. ‘If we’re sexual compatible’. I finally saw your cock tonight, and confirmed that you have the equipment to satisfy me. Plus you’re a giver, and I’m confident that I can tease you to the point where you’ll pound the shit out of me.”

I shift, “You didn’t mention how you’re compatible for me.”

She sits up straight, offended, “You don’t think I can satisfy your every sexual desire!? I’ll do things your wife never even knew about.”

“You’re underestimating Monica. She can be quite freaky behind closed doors.” I say defending my wife. I don’t include that she hasn’t been sexually the same since we had kids though. I don’t want to kill the mood again.

“Now you’ve created a challenge for me,” Phoebe says, un-straddling me. She stretches and then starts to walk away.

I say, “Where are you going?”

“Follow me. I’m going to do some freaky shit that you’re going to love.”