My husband and I have…an interesting arrangement.
All of my friends tell me magical stories of how the minute they met their husbands they knew they were The One. They took one look into their eyes and they heard distant wedding bells and birds singing and all that romantic crap.
I can’t help but laugh.
When I first met Adam, I heard no bells or birds. Honestly, the second he sidled up next to me at that bar my eyes went straight for the exits. I’m not saying he was ugly, but he just was so not my type. Average height, average build, mildly attractive face. Nothing special.
Not to brag or anything, but I’m kind of a knockout. Tall, blonde, lean but curvy in the right places. My 36D breasts have gotten me countless free drinks over the years. Basically, I could get any man I wanted. And I did not want Adam.
But five minutes into our first boring conversation, I found out that Adam was rich. Like, $5 million mansion and drives a Bugatti rich. So I went home with him that night, had some average sex that he loved, and secured another date.
He showered me with enough jewelry and designer clothes to keep me coming back. And when we had The Talk about what we were, I unenthusiastically agreed to be Adam’s girlfriend.
Now, this obviously didn’t mean I was faithful. I wasn’t. I mean, a girl has certain needs – and Adam’s 5-inch dick certainly wasn’t fulfilling them.
I wasn’t sneaky about my affairs, either. I just didn’t care enough to hide it from Adam. I guess part of me wanted to get caught. I figured the relationship had run its course, and at least I’d gotten some nice things out of it.
But when Adam discovered the explicit texts from other men I had on my phone, he wasn’t even that mad. And instead of breaking up with me, he asked me to marry him!
I was completely shocked. I wasn’t head over heels for Adam or anything, but he really was a decent guy and obviously could give me a very nice life. I mean, he practically worshipped the ground I walked on. Who wouldn’t want a husband who did that?
So I said yes. But, since I’m not a horrible person, I was honest with Adam. I told him that I couldn’t see myself being faithful to him. And he said that was fine, as long as I followed his three rules:
1. I could never bring my lovers into our house.
2. I couldn’t fuck any of his friends.
3. I always had to use protection.
He warned me that if I broke his rules, he wouldn’t hesitate to throw me out on the street. I couldn’t believe my ears. Those rules, in my opinion, were quite easy to abide by. Adam, as always, was being very generous.
Flash forward three years, and Adam and I are happily married, with our arrangement working out quite well. A few times a week, Adam and I have mediocre sex, and every now and then I go out, find a hottie, and get my mind-blowing, deeply satisfying fuck.
But Adam’s rules suddenly got a lot harder to follow the night his best friend Jackson came over for dinner.
I’d just started prepping the meal when Adam texted me he’d be late. I called Jackson to tell him, but he’d already been on his way, so I told him to come anyway.
“Sorry that Adam’s stuck at work,” I told Jackson when he arrived. “He shouldn’t be much longer.”
“Don’t worry about it, Bree,” Jackson said with a smile.
“I’ll get us some wine while we wait,” I said. I uncorked a fresh bottle and poured him a big glass. We settled on the couch in the living room, keeping a polite distance.
“You look really nice tonight,” he told me as he sipped his wine. I had put extra effort into my appearance. I was wearing a tight blue dress, low-cut of course, and had blown out my golden hair into soft waves. My ears and neck were decorated with diamonds. Adam liked me looking nice, especially when we had company over.
“Thanks.” I smiled a little too widely at the compliment, but I couldn’t help it. Unlike Adam, Jackson was smoking hot. He had piercing blue eyes and dark, wavy hair. He was definitely built – you could tell, even through his shirt. I would totally go after a man like Jackson as one of my permitted conquests. But tragically, Jackson himself was off-limits.