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The Kinky Wife: Shared By Hubby, Ravished By His Friend


© Copyright 2017 by Deborah Cockram and After Midnight Press


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Chapter 1


Sometimes, you have to take things into your own hands, grab life by the horns and see where it takes you.

Then again, sometimes that gets you in horrible trouble.

I think the latter might be the case for me, because I hear the voices, approaching, outside for now, but in the carport, nearing the door, and soon they'll be inside my house.

The problem with that?

Well, it's twofold.

First, the key issues is there are "voices." Plural. As in more than one person. I was expecting hubby, alone.

Second, I'm hanging here, in my living room, my arms stretched overhead, held firmly by the leather cuffs I snapped around my wrists, hooked onto the rope hanging from the ceiling. My feet can barely touch the floor – my ankles are bound to a spread bar that's between my feet, stretching my legs nearly as wide as they can go, and I have a ball gag in my mouth. A big, brought red one, with the accompanying straps wrapped around my head, buckled securely, probably a little too tight actually.

And I'm as naked as the day I was born.

This was supposed to be a not-so-subtle hint for my husband. Instead, I'm hanging here, about the be embarrassed beyond description, wondering what my hubby will do when he sees me like this, when his friend – whoever it is – sees me like this.

I groan, panic starting to rise, my breathing becoming quick and shallow. A shiver runs through me, and I'm suddenly scared. Not that anything bad will happen – even at its worst its only play – but scared with the dread that comes from something you have to do, or experience, even though you'd do anything to change it, avoid it. I have no idea who is outside with hubby, but I'll never be able to face them again, I know that.

I lift my feet, which isn't easy to do with the damn spreader bar holding my legs so far apart, and kick downward, seeing if I can jerk the rope loose from the ceiling hook.

Nothing.

I curse under my breath as I hear the door open, Matthew walks in, chatting away with…oh god, it's Daryl, one of Matthew's work colleagues and a work-out buddy at the gym.

They freeze in mid-sentence, both their mouths hanging open. The two of them stand there, staring, not a sound escaping their mouths.

I feel my face burning now, heat radiating from my skin. I suspect my face is beet-red.

"E EEE OOO," I cry out, trying to say "Get me down."

Daryl closes his mouth for just a second as a bit of saliva starts to drool from the corner of his mouth, then his mouth pops open again. Matthew gathers his wits a little quicker. I notice he glances around, sees the little toys I had laid out next to the television – a scourge (one of those whips that have about 15 little ends), some nipples clamps, a vibrator, and a few other select little items I've collected.

Matthew's gaping expression slowly changes to a smirk.

"E EEE OOOO," I repeat.

Matthew drops his gym bag on the floor, walks over to me, slowly runs his fingers down my chest, between my large, hanging breasts. "Well now, my dear Jess, you didn't have to go to all of this trouble for us," he says, a naughty mischievousness in his voice. He leans forward, cupping my right breast while he kisses, gently taking the nipple in his mouth, sucking, not-so-gently pulling, pain flaring.

I moan, instinctively trying to close my legs, squeeze, then I glance beyond Matthew and see Daryl standing there, like a statue, his mouth still open, not a single muscle in his body moving, and he would be hilarious if not for the fact that I'm hanging there, like a sex toy, simply waiting for someone to play with me.

Matthew yanks away from my nipple, hard raw pain flashing through me, and I cry out through the gag, simultaneously aroused by the sensation and absolutely, wholly mortified by the whole thing. I have to be honest – I'm horrified at the predicament I've put myself in, yet something inside me…it's hard to explain, but I feel aroused, too, hot and horny at the idea that Matthew would leave me like this, in front of his friend. The idea they both might take me suddenly blooms, and my body shudders with dread and the strongest, hardest, darkest desire I've ever felt.

Let me back up a bit, explain what's going on, because I sure as hell don't know what's about to happen, and given my helpless and embarrassing situation, I'd much rather have the comfort of telling you what I do know, what has led to this point.


Chapter 2


It all started a year ago, when Matthew bought me a Kindle for my birthday. I'm 24, and we'd been married for two years at that point. I'm Matthew's second wife – his first left him, which I don't understand. Matthew is a wonderful man, funny and smart and hard-working, and absolutely adorable. He's a little staid in the bedroom, yes, but even there he sometimes will slip out of his comfort zone.

He's also 12 years older than me, which didn't thrill my family, but they're not the ones married to him, I am. And I love him.

But I swear, there are times when I wish he'd just cut loose in the bedroom, really go at it, be a little rough.


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