The spark ignited during a trip back home for my nephew’s wedding, in a small town a few hours from our city. The wedding was lovely, but things got interesting at the afterparty at my cousin’s place. My uncle Tom—mid-50s, successful in property, married to Ellen with no kids was chatting with me over beers. Tom nodded toward Sophie, who was cradling my cousin’s three-month-old with a smile. He warned me I might be in trouble, suggesting her obvious baby fever meant I should act fast before losing our carefree lifestyle. Sophie’s a knockout long dark hair, bright green eyes, fit from yoga and running, C-cup breasts. At 5’6”, her curves catch eyes, and her smile lights up any room. I laughed it off, explaining we’d been trying for a year without success, but we weren’t stressed, just letting nature decide. Since Sophie wasn’t yet 30, there was no rush to give up our late nights or lazy Sundays. Tom apologized for not knowing, then teased that she was heading our way. Sophie approached and I teased that the kid had an odd nose, and Tom chimed in, joking that the nose seemed too wide for such a small face. She defended the baby, insisting he was perfect and telling him to ignore our silliness. Then she reminded me we needed to leave soon to reach the motel, asking if I was okay to drive. I confirmed I’d stopped drinking hours ago and suggested she start her goodbyes. We’d driven up the day before for the wedding, and this was a casual family gathering. Sophie handed the baby back to my cousin, still raving about how cute he was. I let her do her farewell rounds alone, knowing she’d take her time
Tom observed that I didn’t seem like a jealous husband. I asked what he meant, and he pointed out that Sophie’s beauty and outgoing nature likely attracted a lot of male attention. I admitted she probably did, adding I thought I handled it well. He asked if anyone specific stood out, and I mentioned Derek, a new guy at her work, who was blatant about eyeing her when I picked her up. Tom noted how Sophie’s friendly demeanor standing close, light touches with men, even our relatives. I agreed it was just her personality, not worth worrying about. He suggested that if I wasn’t overly jealous, I might find it exciting, sharing that he did with his wife Ellen, who was similarly social. I asked if he meant with Ellen, and he laughed, clarifying it was only her, explaining it had been a positive for their marriage since he wasn’t possessive.
I pressed further, asking how it was a positive. Tom confided they were swingers, in an open marriage for 15 years, but urged me to keep it secret. Shocked, I asked if he meant with other partners, and he explained they both had occasional side relationships, fitting their busy lives. I expressed disbelief, asking if people really lived like that. He insisted it was more common than I thought, hinting he knew others at the party with extramarital experiences, though he wouldn’t name them for discretion. I asked if he meant with him, and he clarified it was at a place he frequented, revealing he owned a lakefront house for naturism and socializing. I questioned if it was a nudist spot, and he confirmed clothing was optional.
Skeptical, I laughed it off, saying it wasn’t for us. Tom teased that Sophie would be popular there, suggesting my embarrassment rather than anger showed we might share similar tastes. I countered that naturism seemed more consensual than ogling like Derek’s. Tom agreed , then said he had to go, asked me to consider bringing Sophie to the lakefront house, noting it was mostly men, some younger, some his age. I rejected the idea, insisting neither of us would be into it. He pressed, saying he’d be first in line to admire Sophie. I admitted to myself it stirred something . Tom encouraged me to think it over, saying many enjoyed it, then shifted gears, warning me to get Sophie pregnant before someone else did, given her readiness.
I confessed I was waiting on fertility test results, suspecting I might be the issue since my ex never conceived either. Tom hoped it wasn’t permanent, sharing that he and Ellen never had kids due to their busy priorities, not regret, but it felt hollow. As he left, he apologized for dropping the naturism bombshell, begging me to keep it from the family, especially my mom. I chuckled, agreeing the idea of our conservative family knowing was not good idea.
In the car, Sophie waved goodbye to everyone. I agreed we should visit more. She playfully warned I was in for it at the motel, she meant fun trouble. I asked if the baby got her worked up, and she admitted maybe. I suggested we crash for a few hours at the motel and drive overnight to have Sunday at home. She agreed, adding we could enjoy our own bed.
Later, I brought up the test, admitting I worried I might be infertile, given my ex’s lack of pregnancy too. Sophie appreciated me checking, saying it was good to identify any issues, even if it felt unsexy. I shifted to something wild, sharing Tom’s secret about being a naturist . She was shocked, asking if it was real, thinking nudism was outdated. I clarified Tom, barely 50, owned a lakefront resort, not a beach, and had invited us. She laughed it off but I teased she’d look great sunbathing nude. She fired back that my penis would too, and we laughed. I added the bigger secret: Tom and Ellen were swingers with an open marriage for 15 years. Sophie wasn’t surprised, recalling Ellen’s drunken story about public sex on a French nude beach. I suggested that’s where it started, and she agreeing it fit European culture. She proposed a few hours’ sleep before driving, and I agreed
At the motel, after a quick nap, we made love. She was wet, asking if she’d had a sexy dream. She claimed it was just from our moment, but later, in the afterglow, I sensed she was holding back, blushing about fantasies involving Derek’s attention at work.
The next day, Sophie got a text from her coworker Tara about drinks at beachside bar. Tara asked if she was dressing up, and Sophie said she might wear a dress. Tara shared that Lisa and Emma were dressing up too, planning to cheer up Emma after a breakup by finding her a surfer. Sophie jokingly asked for one too, and Tara teased that Derek might surf. Sophie begged her not to tease, admitting she was already struggling with thoughts about him. Tara encouraged her to enjoy the attention, suggesting it might spark jealousy in me, which could be good for me. Sophie hesitated, citing my discomfort with Derek’s behavior, but Tara insisted men thrive on competition. She added that men love the chase, urging Sophie to have fun with it.
When I got home from washing the car, Sophie seemed flushed. I offered her a beer, noting her rosy cheeks. She cuddled up, joking she was already wet from loving me. I teased if she wanted something, maybe to make up for something. She laughed, admitting she wanted to go out with the girls, asking to spend a bit over budget. I agreed, saying it was fine for a weeknight, and offered to drive. She declined, promising to stay under the limit.
At work, Derek slid onto Sophie’s desk, calling her gorgeous. She said her day was okay until he arrived, though she smiled. He asked what the girls called him behind his back, suggesting nicknames like hunky. She teased back Slick. He liked it, saying they could skip formalities. She fumbled papers as he complimented her black lace bra, visible through her open blouse. She called him naughty and left for lunch, feeling his eyes on her.
That evening at the beachside bar, Derek greeted the group, saying he wasn’t intruding on their girls’ night, just working nearby with a beer. Tara told him it was girls-only, and everyone laughed. He wished them a good night and sat in a corner. Sophie complained to Tara about his presence, saying he got to her. Tara encouraged her to have fun with it, suggesting my jealousy could boost my drive, especially given fertility concerns. Sophie warned that I could handle myself in a fight, having once taken down two guys who harassed her. Tara got excited, saying a fight over her would be hot, but Sophie called it risky. Tara urged her to tell me Derek was there, predicting it would spice things up.
When Tara left, Derek asked why the party ended early. Sophie said she couldn’t drink more since she was driving. He suggested coffee at Coco’s on the way to her car. She agreed as he guided her with a hand on her waist.
Meanwhile, I was restless at home. When Sophie got home, I complimented her sexy dress. She spun, asking if I liked it. I loved it, the plunging neckline. Cuddling her, I found her panties soaked. She claimed she was just feeling sexy, denying any misbehavior. We fucked hard, and later, she confessed Derek was at the bar, working alone, and only walked her to her car after coffee. I pressed why it was a big deal, and she admitted he made flirty comments about her dress, which turned her on.
She flipped it, asking how I’d feel if a hot coworker like Rachel wanted me. I admitted I’d be flattered, and she teased I’d go for it. She asked why Derek was fixated on her, a married woman. I said she was hot, I'd confront him. She begged me not to, citing his short-term contract on a big development deal near our hometown. We compromised: I’d meet him casually at drinks the next night, eyeing him to show I was her husband, without Tara knowing. Sophie liked the idea, saying it was sexy to think of me asserting myself.
At work, I got a text from Sophie confirming drinks and promising details later. I spied from across her office, seeing her leave with Derek in a company car. He guided her with a hand on her back, and her blouse was open, letting him peek down as she got in. She adjusted it, teasing it. My heart raced; I called but got voicemail. When they returned with coffees, she buttoned up, and I felt sick with relief.
That night at the beach bar, I found Sophie against a wall, Derek leaning in, fingering her blouse. I punched him in the ribs. He doubled over, shocked, asking what was wrong. Bouncers dragged me out, telling me to leave. Sophie chased me, pleading it wasn’t what it seemed. I drove home fuming, telling her to be quiet. She insisted nothing happened, tears welling.
At home, I confronted her, asking if he’d kissed or groped her. She denied it at first, but I kissed her hard, finding her wet again. I fucked her roughly, and she admitted he’d kissed her three times that day, felt her up, and asked her to remove her bra, which she left at work. She begged me to fuck her again, saying she couldn’t resist him. I did, turned on despite myself. Afterward, she confessed she loved my forceful reaction but wanted me to confront Derek calmly.
I shared my fertility results—low sperm count, weak swimmers, but a clinic could help. She was optimistic, saying many couples do it. I admitted Derek’s pursuit was a turn-on, and she revealed she’d worn the sheer bra for him, letting him see better. We fucked slowly, the fantasy fueling us.
So here we are....
... If she had wanted to stop him, she could have. Too bad.