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The Good Wife

“Are there condoms?” My husband calls over his shoulder as he stands at the edge of the bed in this kinky play space we booked to take photos for a story I’m working on. 

I rummage through the supply closet the maid had pointed out when we arrived and grab one.

“See, good wives bring their husbands condoms, not beer,” I joke as I walk across the cool wood floor with my bare feet to pass him the rubber. 

Our friend, who I’ll call F, is lying on her back on the black sheet, her knees brought up, feet resting on the edge of the bed, my husband’s cock, hard and out of his pants sets across her pubic bone. She’s still wearing the red lingerie from the photos, and it outlines her beautiful breasts, her hard nipples. Her long dark hair is sprawled messily on the bed. 

“Do you mind?” They ask for the second time. 

“No, I don’t. Seriously, go ahead. It doesn’t bother me.” I assure them. “I’m just going to clean up. We’re almost out of time.” 

So I do, cleaning and putting back the cuffs, the masks, the whip, as Luke drills F on the bed. I come up behind him running my hands across his muscles and watching as she moans with pleasure at the sensations he’s giving her. 

He pulls out of her and his cock is covered in her juices. She’s fucking dripping. It’s been a bit of time since breaking up with her ex and she needs this, a good fuck from an unselfish lover. 

“Damn, you’re so wet,” Luke says. I smile and go back to cleaning. They’ve got this covered. 

Perhaps it’s that I enjoy seeing him enjoy himself; perhaps it’s that I love and trust her as a sister, but it really doesn’t bother me.

If anything, I’m just worried that our time is going to run out, the mistress of this place is going to come over, and we’re still all going to be naked and not have the place cleaned up. If we weren’t 10 minutes from that reality, I may have joined in the fun for real. 

I look over. Luke is now laying on the bed and F is riding him because that’s how she can get off. I grab the flogger from where we left it by the St. Andrews cross and come by the bed.  From the sound she emits, I know F liked as I whipped it across her ass as she rides Luke, so I do it again. 

“I’m close” she moans. With one more thrust of her hips, her breaths quicken; with one more smack of the flogger on her ass, she explodes in grunts and pants all over my husband’s cock. 

Then, it’s time to hustle. Luke showers while F uses the bathroom. I strip the sheets, wet from her juicy pussy, and then we clean all the surfaces we’ve touched. 

“Let’s go into the city” Luke suggests once we’re in the car. We’re all starving. We started the day early for this adventure and didn’t eat much. 

As we’re walking along the water toward the restaurant, F pauses. 

“Take out your phone and record me” she says. 

“What for?” I ask. 

“Just do it” she says. So I do. She gets her phone out and puts a song on. 

“Wait for it” she says as the intro to the song plays. And then as Akon’s sexy voice sings out “I just had sex, and it felt so good” F starts doing a happy dance triumphantly, and we all laugh. 

“It would really hit my self esteem hard If it didn’t feel good.” Luke jokes. 

“Look at you guys, writing my own story for me” I laugh, thinking just how perfect this moment will be for the story that’s already forming in my mind, the words building and pressing to be freed from my head. 

Then we continue down the busy sidewalk. Sometimes I hold his hand, sometimes I hold hers. I see people watching. In my hurry to not leave the play space late, I had grabbed a sheer silver club dress and pulled it on, unable to find the sweats I had worn that morning. Men glance, women give disapproving scowls. It doesn’t matter. We’re chatting and laughing and enjoying this day. 

Over our lunch, Luke looks at me. “I want to have you for dinner” he tells me. 

“That could be arranged” I say to him with a sly smile on my face. 

We’re done and ready to head home. “¿Terminó?” the waiter asks F about her plate to see if she’s done. As he picks up her food, a mischievous smile slides across my face. I lean forward and lock eyes with her. 

“Sí, terminaste” I say with a provocative grin. We both laugh, the laughter of rebellious women. 

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