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Sharing My Wife

Sharing My Wife

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Sharing My Wife

3.5/5 (8 evaluări)
86 pages
1 hour
Apr 4, 2020


My wife and I don’t have a traditional marriage. But these days, who does? Besides, when you put it all in perspective there are a million traditions in the world, and in our opinion, it’s best to find the ones that work for you, not the other way around.
I love with her all my heart and she loves me too, but when it comes to sex, there’s nothing as thrilling, exciting, and downright erotic as watching her make love to another man. Traditional? Probably not. But it works for us, and we wouldn’t have it any other way.

Apr 4, 2020

Despre autor

Guy New York is a bestselling erotica author, designer, and degenerate who spends most of his time either writing about sex or having it. Sometimes he does both at the same time, much to the chagrin of his partners. With more than 75 titles to his name — including four full-length novels, ten novellas, and numerous short stories — his books have been widely read and often burned. Visit his author site at www.guynewyork.com.

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Sharing My Wife - Guy New York


Part 1: Shared at the Cocktail Party

My wife and I don’t have a traditional marriage, but these days, who does? Besides, when you put it all in perspective, there are a million traditions in the world. In our opinion, it’s best to find the ones that work for you — not the other way around.

Take the cocktail party we attended a few weeks back. Most people would get dressed up, grab a bottle of wine someone gifted them for Christmas last year, show up a half-hour late, mingle, and get a little tipsy. Then, the couple heads home where, most likely, someone is too tired, and someone else has a headache.

There’s nothing wrong with that, but as for Rose and me… it’s just not what we do.

The cocktail party was at an old friend’s house who had recently divorced. While they settled on good terms, Robert was going through a rough patch. This evening was a way for him to reconnect, get out there, and show off his new bachelor pad. Rose and I accepted his invitation with enthusiasm because we wanted to show our support, love, and solidarity.

And Rose had been wanting to fuck him long before things turned south with his ex-wife.

What are the chances? she asked excitedly, as we walked up to the door. To say we had been fantasizing about it all week would be an understatement. Every night, Rose whispered in my ear the things she wanted to do to our friend and, more importantly, the things she wanted him to do to her.

I still think you should have let me talk to him before the party. We’d be going into it with a better idea of what might go down, I told her.

You know I love surprises, she retorted. Besides, it’s more fun this way. I love the looks on their faces when they realize we seriously mean it. And then, the excitement that takes over when they see me undressing. I’m getting wet just talking about it. But God, I love you.

I love you, too, I said, leaning down and kissing her deeply. She wasn’t the only one who was excited, and I took a few deep breaths before ringing the bell.

Focus, Marcus! If it’s meant to happen, then it will happen.

You made it! Robert said, giving me a quick hug before kissing Rose on the cheek. She blushed but took his hand and squeezed, staring right into his eyes.

We wouldn’t have missed it for the world, she purred. You look fantastic, by the way. This bachelor’s life must be good for you.

You’re as sweet as always, Robert said, stepping aside and waving us into the house. But while I’ve been hitting the gym five days a week, I’m fairly certain I still look like hell. It’s been a rough year. He shook his head woefully. But enough of that! Come on in and have a drink. There are already a few people out back on the deck. The view is incredible, and the weather is perfect.

Rose and I followed him down the hallway, through the kitchen, and out back, where a small group of friends stood chatting, drinking, and generally behaving themselves. Everyone greeted us warmly, shaking hands or giving light kisses. Before we knew it, someone handed us two martinis, and the night was off to a good start.

Our plan was relatively simple. I’d have a few drinks, take Robert aside at one point, and tell him that my wife had her eye on him. He’d pretend to be shocked, but I’d pat him on the back and tell him it wasn’t my job to tell her what to do with her body. And besides, he’s had a rough time — didn’t he deserve a little fun? I’d tell him not to take my word for it, but if she seemed a bit friendly, he should feel free to run with it.

If he was interested, that is.

As for Rose, she’d give him a few looks once we were done talking, wink at him on occasion and flirt enough for him to wonder if I was serious. If she jumped the gun, he wouldn’t have enough time to let the fantasy turn into something more. He needed to mull it over, first in theory and then as a potential reality. And then, if all went well, the idea would slowly become something he couldn’t resist if he tried.

Our conversation finally happened around ten that night. Rose had let one strap of her dress slip off a shoulder, slyly revealing an ample amount of cleavage, and I slid up to Rob and put my hand on his shoulder.

Who is that beautiful lady? I asked, waving my drink toward my wife.

That is your wife, he said, slapping my back playfully. But you’re not wrong. She looks stunning tonight.

I took a deep breath, leaned in closer, and went for it. It was now or never.

You know, our marriage isn’t exactly what you’d call traditional. Seeing her float about looking that hot is one of my favorite things in the world.

Is everything okay with you two? he asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

Better than okay! All I meant to say is that… well, Rose likes you. She knows you’ve had a rough year, and she’s a friendly gal. Not to be awkward, but I suspect she’d enjoy flirting with you tonight if you gave her the chance.

How untraditional is this marriage of yours? he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Let’s just say Rose has a mind of her own. And a body as well. What she does with both is completely up to her.

With a gulp, I finished my martini, and before Robert could say anything, I patted him on the back one last time.

But look, I’ve got to head home. I have an early call tomorrow. She’ll be fine on her own; be nice to her, okay?

He tried to stop me, but another partygoer called him over, and before long, I was out the door and in the car. I sat with my heart beating a thousand miles an hour, replaying our conversation. I began to wonder if I had said too much — or too little!

Nevertheless, I put the car in gear and headed home. Rose could call an Uber when she was ready to leave, and if all went well, it would be quite a while. It took me about 15 minutes to get to the house. By the time I made it upstairs, undressed, and took a shower, I was hard and as impatient as they come.

And I stayed that way for four more hours.

I’d like to say I was sound asleep when I heard the car door, but that would be a blatant lie. Hell, I’d like to pretend I was watching a good movie or reading a

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