Wives with Benefits: Volume Two Read online

  About the Author

  Max Sebastian is a thirty-something writer, author and occasional journalist who lives in London with his wife and two children. He has been writing erotica for more than 15 years, starting out at the website Literotica.com before joining the indie publishing revolution in late 2011.

  You can find Max online at MaxSebastian.net, on Twitter @MaxSebastian, on Facebook at facebook.com/writermax, and on GoodReads at goodreads.com/maxsebastian.

  And, you're always very welcome to contact Max by emailing [email protected].

  Also by Max Sebastian

  Available via MaxSebastian.net

  Novels

  Anarchy of the Heart

  Submitting to Her

  Madeleine Wakes

  Madeleine Plays

  Madeleine Strays

  What’s Mine is Yours

  What’s Yours is Mine

  She’s a Star

  The Game

  Novellas

  My Wife, The Seductress

  A Calculated Affair

  Short Stories

  Wives with Benefits: Volume One

  Wives with Benefits: Volume Two

  Wives with Benefits

  Volume Two

  MAX SEBASTIAN

  MaxSebastian.net

  KW

  PUBLISHING

  Copyright © 2016 Max Sebastian

  All rights reserved.

  Cover images © nd3000/Tverdokhlib/deagreez/Wisky/Malivan_Iuliia | bigstockphoto.com

  First digital edition electronically February 2016

  This is a work of fiction, any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, or events, organizations or locations, is purely coincidental. Reproduction in whole or in part of this publication without written consent is strictly prohibited, other than limited quotes for purposes of review.

  The author greatly appreciates you taking the time to read this book, please do consider leaving a review wherever you bought this title, to help others find this story.

  Contents

  Penance

  Fertility Rites

  She’s Seeing Someone

  A Mistress For My Wife

  A Little Fantasy Never Hurt

  Introduction

  I think in any short story collection you want to see a little variety and a perhaps a few surprises along the way, at least in part because — as I mentioned a year ago in the first volume of Wives With Benefits — the short story gives you the opportunity to experiment with ideas in a way the novel does not.

  Sure, a novel is a fantastic platform to get plenty of ideas out there, but those ideas have to gel with each other and conform to the nature of the whole long story. With short stories each one can drive a single idea, give it a whirl and then stop when the idea has been realized. A good short story is like a fling or a one night stand compared to a novel, which requires a serious commitment on both the writer’s time and the reader’s attention.

  So, here are five more one night stands for you, dear reader, in which you can try out a hot threesome, a bisexual wife, and a honeymoon that instantly challenges the defined monogamy of a conventional marriage. There’s also the occasional controversial idea thrown in — as if the idea of wives being free to pursue men outside their wedding vows isn’t controversial enough in this society — such as the desire of one couple to conceive a child through consensual infidelity.

  The wife-sharing kink is so massively diverse when you get down to it, there are countless ways in which it might manifest itself within either fantasy or reality, and countless angles from which it can be explored in fiction. Some people take the kink to frighteningly extremist lengths, while others who might not be considered ‘extreme’ still have very different tastes in how they appreciate the concept of the liberated, insatiable wife, from others enjoying the same field.

  I’d say the common thread within most of my writing, and in these stories here, is the way the fantasy emerges and becomes reality for the couples concerned — mainly because that appears to be my interest as a writer at this particular stage of my life. I also tend to favor husbands that delight in what their wives get up to, and have the confidence and desire to allow their wives fairly free rein with how they take forward their consensual infidelity. That’s not to say I won’t experiment in future with other kinds of husband character. I certainly have critics who want me to conform to their idea of a husband who controls the whole situation and treats the wife as a mere component of the male-led wife-sharing fantasy. I just happen to find strong female characters fascinating, and enjoy exploring where their complexities might lead.

  I’ve always believed there is no "correct" way to write fiction, erotic fiction or wife-sharing erotic fiction. There’s just certain conventions that seem to work. Short stories allow a little more experimentation with the sub-genre, but the bottom line for me as a writer — and thankfully for many as readers — is simply whether the story captures your interest and gets you a little hot under the collar.

  So as ever, I hope you enjoy these stories, dear reader, and though they might not provide the commitment and longevity of a novel, or the precise run-down of the wife-sharing fantasy as appears in your head, I hope you will find something within them to get the imagination fired up.

  Max Sebastian,

  London, February 2016

  Penance

  We’d been drinking. We’d all been drinking. It was just like how things were in our last year of college, only here we were, all grown up and independent. Even so, I blame Rico for what happened.

  I didn’t see him much these days, but in the beginning we were like brothers. When I first started dating Isla in college, we were roommates, so my then-girlfriend was accustomed to having him around. Even after we all graduated, Rico and I ended up getting a place together for nearly two years, before it came time for me to move in with Isla.

  After that, though, Rico ended up taking his coding skills out to Silicon Valley — the logical place for him, really — so I didn’t see him more than a handful of times in the past five, six years. And this last time, I hadn’t seen him for more than two years.

  So, here he was back in Chicago, trying to raise money for a start-up his little group of coding geniuses were putting together. Isla was actually delighted, even if she wasn’t particularly fussed about most of my friends, having Rico around seemed to transport us back to the carefree days of college and our early dating.

  He had a room in the W hotel, and Rico being Rico wanted to plan some kind of party for all the people we knew from college still in the Chicago area. Turned out there was a surprisingly small number of those, and those that were around were no longer willing to party with Rico, it seemed.

  I myself had to make a conference call with the West Coast the evening Rico got in, and he was horrified that he might have to spend the evening alone — but Isla volunteered to take him out to a restaurant, and maybe a few bars. The plan was for me to join them once I finally got out from work.

  I don’t know, it was kind of nice knowing Rico was around again. He had that kind of permanent air of having fun, and it really rubbed off on people. While I was trying to pitch our legal services to an electric car manufacturer based out in southern California that evening, I was looking forward to heading out to catch up with Rico and Isla.

  As soon as the call was done, I grabbed my jacket and ran out of our building, hailing a taxi to get me to O’Shaunnessey’s Irish pub as soon as was humanly possible. I didn’t want to waste a moment of Rico being in town.

  In the pub, there he was, arm slung around Isla’s shoulders, recounting some story to a few people I’d never seen before. His short-cropped hair was as b
lack as ever, his eyes dark yet full of life, his skin lightly tan and glowing with confidence, his frame as tall and athletic as it had been in college. Rico had defied the ravages of time in the 12 years I’d known him.

  “Hey, here he is!”

  Isla was clearly having a great time, smiling ear-to-ear, laughing, her cheeks a little flushed from alcohol. She was wearing a simple gray blouse and a long black skirt, the kind of thing she normally wore at work. But with Rico there, she seemed just like the girl I’d met in college, her blue eyes twinkling, her strawberry-blonde hair tied back loosely, with many strands straying. It’s funny how you regress when you get together with people from your past, huh.

  “Hey!”

  Rico dragged Isla away from his little group of admirers, and I felt better that I didn’t recognize any of them — they weren’t from college, they were just locals Rico had been chatting with before Isla had turned up.

  “Rico’s been telling me your secrets from college,” she said as we ordered drinks from the bar.

  “You know you can’t trust a word he says,” I warned her. I ordered a couple of chasers to go with my beer, feeling the need to catch up with these guys. “What you been telling her, dude? I thought we were under the bro code.”

  He laughed and slapped me on the shoulder. “She told me you guys didn’t have any secrets from each other.”

  “We don’t,” I insisted.

  “So what’s all this I hear about the two of you going out with the same girl back in college? And it wasn’t just one time, either.”

  I glared at Rico, but it was hard to actively dislike him.

  “Hey, I never asked about the guys you dated before me,” I said.

  “You wanna know?”

  Hmm. Strangely, I felt a little flutter of my heart at that, and perhaps a faint throbbing between my legs. Not the way I’d felt about the subject when I’d first started going out with Isla, I can tell you. Back then I liked to imagine she’d been somewhat pure.

  We found ourselves a booth toward the rear of the pub, and Rico was saying mildly reassuring things like, “Hey, everyone did it back then, right Will?”

  But I was insisting that it hadn’t happened a lot, and the booze was fueling the whole discussion.

  “So how did you guys decide which one of you was going to see her when?” Isla wanted to know.

  “Whoever wanted to see her saw her. No big deal.”

  “And if you both wanted to see her one night?”

  Rico shrugged. “It wasn’t so hard — we were roommates, right?”

  That made my wife spit out her margarita. “You dated her together?”

  “Sure,” Rico grinned broadly. He didn’t have anything to hide. I glanced away sheepishly, or gazed into my beer.

  “Wait. You slept with her together?”

  Isla was looking at me, horrified and yet fascinated, her face flushed bright red. Her complexion was so responsive to her mood.

  Rico said, “Sure. Plenty to go around, right, Will?”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Okay, so like who?” Isla continued to press our old friend. I could hear the slight slur in her voice from the alcohol. She was in a fun mood, I’d probably be enjoying myself if she weren’t trying to find out about my past.

  “There was that Mary chick,” Rico said. “She was fun.”

  “Mary Parker?”

  “Sure.”

  “You were seeing her while I was dating Will,” Isla said to Rico.

  “I was?”

  God, I couldn’t even remember back that far. I guess I should have been able to, but there’s been a lot of drink back in the day. And one girl blurred into another when you just slept with her a couple of times, and moved on to the next. I guess I wasn’t the nicest guy in the world in college. Things had changed when I’d started seeing Isla.

  “Wait, you guys had a threesome with Mary Parker while I was dating Will?”

  Uh-oh.

  I didn’t remember that.

  “Sure,” Rico said proudly, putting his big foot in it. I glared at him, but it was no good — the cat was out of the bag.

  Isla leaned over, pulling herself away from me as we sat there in the booth.

  “Really?” she said, frosty despite her high alcohol content.

  “I don’t know…” I said, fumbling for some way out of this.

  “You slept with another girl while we were dating?” she wasn’t impressed. Understandable, really.

  I shrugged. “We weren’t exclusive back then,” I protested.

  “Wow,” she said, the coldness in her voice somewhat taking the breath away. “And you didn’t ever think I should know about this?”

  “It was before we told each other we were going steady,” I insisted.

  Isla just glared at me, pursing her lips as though she was sucking on candy. “But before that… we both kind of assumed we were already exclusive, right?”

  “I don’t know…” I shrugged. “I kinda thought you were dating other people until we decided…”

  I guess the argument fizzled a little, but throughout the night Isla kept bringing it up again — that I’d basically cheated on her, and that somehow I owed her for that, and probably owed her so much that I’d never be able to repay.

  I resorted to more alcohol to get me through. Rico, on the other hand, couldn’t stop laughing about this little bump in our otherwise perfect relationship, and continued to tease me and goad Isla about it whenever the opportunity presented itself.

  “Another round of drinks, my friends? Maybe we’ll be able to get past this whole betrayal thing…” he said one time when it was his turn to go to the bar.

  “I don’t think you can get past something just by drinking,” Isla had insisted.

  Rico laughed. “Come on, Isla. You’re just pissed because you were a good little girl in college — and you never got to have a threesome.”

  Isla blushed at that, quite dramatically, highly visibly thanks to her pale, freckly complexion.

  “Maybe you should just go out and sleep with a couple of guys,” Rico had chuckled. “Get over it.”

  “Maybe,” my wife had said, offering me another glare.

  “My round,” I insisted, getting up before Rico could make a move to the bar. God, anything to get away from that glare for a while.

  When I got back to the table laden with drinks, Isla was sitting on Rico’s side of the table, and seemed to have calmed down. I found myself actually hoping that he’d managed to sweet talk her into a better mood, and into forgiving me if that was possible.

  “What was so great about Mary Parker, anyway?” she asked me as I sat down on my own opposite them across the table. “I mean, that you couldn’t just wait for our next date.”

  “I don’t know… I don’t really remember her that much…” I mumbled. “Was she the brunette with the — “

  “Blonde,” Rico corrected me. “She was just dirty, man. She’d been with everyone. And you should’ve heard her when she got a few drinks inside her.”

  “Guys like that?” Isla said dismissively.

  “Sure.”

  “I thought guys didn’t want girls if they’d slept around too much.”

  Rico laughed. “Are you kidding? Why d’you think the ones who sleep around a lot get to sleep around a lot?”

  “You liked slutty girls in college?” she demanded of me.

  I shrugged. “It didn’t really matter to me.”

  “If you aren’t marrying them…” Rico said.

  “And if you are?” Isla interrupted him.

  “I never went there,” he laughed.

  “Did you ever wish I was sluttier?” Isla said, and I could hear her slurring her words again, the drink getting to her. At the same time, her cold tone had thawed — she seemed less irate with me, and more interested in finding out how I really ticked.

  “No, I was happy just the way you were,” I declared — the good husband.

  “Because I was with
plenty of guys before you,” she said. “I just thought you didn’t want to know that kind of thing.”

  “I was fine with how it was.”

  Rico cackled, amused at this little battle between us.

  Isla said, “There was Greg Franken…”

  “Frankenstein?” Rico cackled some more.

  My wife shrugged. “He had a big dick. Everyone knew. I wanted to see for myself.” She looked at me and added, “I fucked him a few times the summer before we dated.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said, folding my arms, nodding gently as though it wasn’t a big deal.

  Underneath, though, it seemed strangely exciting to hear about my wife’s sex life before me.

  “There was Vincent Davis… I was with him right before you,” she said. “He just wanted to spend all our time in bed… I was okay with that…”

  So for a while we just heard about the guys Isla saw in college before me. Rico chuckled and urged her on, and I quietly listened and tried to maintain a neutral expression — though inside, I was warming up considerably. The mental images of my wife sleeping with other guys, even though it was before I came on the scene, had a curious effect on me.

  Maybe it was because we’d been together for so long now, I didn’t feel any kind of threat. There wasn’t the jealousy I might have felt if I’d found out about it all back when we were still in college.

  We just kept drinking, and Isla kept spieling off guys she’d dated before me. Rico’s earlier description as a “good little girl” was kind of shredded before our very eyes.

  But somehow, in my eyes, my wife became even more desirable. I didn’t really understand how I was feeling, why I was feeling that way. I assumed it was the drink — but hey, it was harmless, I figured I’d just enjoy the buzz.