Saturday night. I’m standing in our bedroom looking down at Laura.

She’s on all fours in the middle of the bed, white lingerie, sheer stockings, black blindfold already tied in place. Her back is arched, that cute little arse pushed high in the air, waiting. The soft glow from the bedside lamp catches the pale curve of her cheeks and the thin strip of lace between her legs.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I take it out.

I’M HERE

“Stay exactly where you are,” I tell her. My voice comes out lower than I expect. She doesn’t answer, just shifts her weight slightly on her knees and waits.

I head downstairs to open the front door.

But the truth is, none of this started tonight.

It started a few weeks earlier.

I’m Pete, early thirties. Laura’s mid-twenties, petite, five-five, blonde hair that falls just past her shoulders, small tits she’s always wished were bigger, and a smooth, peachy little arse that turns heads whenever she wears those skinny jeans. We’ve been together for a couple of years. Moved in together two months ago in a small town where everyone knows everyone else’s business. Things had been good. Better than good. Having her body available whenever I wanted still felt new.

She’s adventurous. Toys, outfits, dirty talk — she’s game for most things once she’s warmed up. My particular weakness has always been the idea of her with other men. On nights when she’d had a few drinks, I’d get her talking about her old boyfriends, asking for details while I rubbed her clit. At first she was reluctant. Then she started answering. Then she started getting wet while she talked.

That Friday night we were both worn out from work and skint, but we still decided on a few drinks at the local. Friends met us at eight. The pub was packed, music loud, the kind of night that blurs at the edges. By half twelve everyone was properly pissed. Our friends left first — both working the next day. The landlord called last orders as I headed for the toilets, telling Laura to grab one more round.

When I came back, she was still at the bar, waiting to be served. The place was crowded but not that crowded. A young lad, eighteen or nineteen, had moved in right behind her. I watched him press himself against her arse, no subtlety at all, grinding slowly while she ordered. She didn’t move away. Didn’t say a word. When the drinks finally came, he gave her a slow smile and watched her walk back to the table, eyes fixed on the sway of her hips.

“Everything alright?” I asked when she sat down.

“Yes.”

We finished the drinks and stepped out into the warm night for the short walk home.

“I saw what happened at the bar,” I said.

Laura glanced at me. “You saw what happened at the bar?”

“That bloke behind you. Rubbing up against you. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Oh, him. I didn’t want to cause a fuss with some drunk dickhead.”

“He seemed to enjoy himself.”

She gave a short laugh. “He probably did. You probably enjoyed watching him, knowing you.”

I stopped walking, pulled her against me and kissed her. She felt how hard I was the second our bodies met. Her hand slipped between us and gave my cock a squeeze through my jeans.

“You fucking did get off on it, didn’t you?”

“Maybe you should have asked him back to ours,” I said against her mouth. “Could’ve had some fun together.”

“There’s no fucking way I’m shagging someone from our local.”

“What if it wasn’t someone from around here? What if it was a stranger?”

She pulled back just enough to look at me. “And how would you manage that?”

On the rest of the walk home, I told her. Swinging sites. Anonymous profiles. A request for a single bloke to come over and fuck her while I watched. She laughed, but she didn’t shut it down. She just said if I could actually find someone, she’d think about it.

We got home. I lay on the bed while she sat at the mirror in her underwear, wiping off her make-up. I picked up my phone and took a photo — close-up of her arse in the blue frilly knickers she still had on.

“What are you doing?”

“Profile pic.”

“Don’t put my picture where anyone can see it.”

I handed her the phone. She studied the image for a long second. Just her arse, no face, nothing identifiable.

“See? No one will recognise you.”

She tossed the phone back onto the bed and went into the bathroom. While she was gone, I set up the profile — couple looking for a respectful single guy — and posted the picture. Just doing it made my cock throb again.

Laura came back, climbed into bed and switched off the light. I reached between her legs. She was already wet.

“So that guy at the bar,” I murmured, rubbing slow circles over her clit. “Did he have a hard-on?”

“Yes.”

Her hand found my cock in the dark and wrapped around it.

She gave a slow, knowing stroke. I kept rubbing her clit in lazy circles, feeling how slick she already was.

“Go on,” I murmured against her ear. “Tell me.”

Laura’s breath hitched. “He was hard. Really hard. I could feel it pressing right between my cheeks every time he moved. He wasn’t even trying to hide it.”

I groaned and pushed two fingers into her. She was soaked. Her hand tightened on my cock as she started pumping me in time with my fingers.

“Did you push back against him?” I asked.

She hesitated for a second, then nodded in the dark. “A little. Just once. When he rubbed up harder. I didn’t mean to… but it felt good.”

That admission alone nearly finished me. I rolled on top of her, pushed her legs apart and slid in with one smooth thrust. Laura’s mouth opened in a silent gasp as I buried myself to the hilt.

“Fuck,” she whispered.

I fucked her slow and deep, grinding against her clit with every stroke. “We’re doing it,” I told her. “I’m putting the advert up properly. Just that arse pic and a short message. Looking for a clean, respectful guy to come over and fuck my girlfriend while I watch.”

Laura’s nails dug into my back. She didn’t say no. She just wrapped her legs higher around my waist and pulled me in deeper.

“And if someone answers?” she asked, voice shaky.

“Then we pick one. You get dressed up exactly how I want. And you stay on all fours while a complete stranger takes what’s mine.”

She came hard around my cock at that, pulsing and clutching at me. I followed right after, flooding her as the image of some other bloke’s hands on her arse burned behind my eyes.

We lay there afterwards in the dark, both breathing hard. Laura’s fingers traced idle patterns on my chest.

“You really going to do it?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah,” I said. “Tomorrow.”

To be continued...