“He’s here,” my new bride said as we got into the limo on the way to our wedding reception. She didn’t have to say anything more than that and I knew who she was talking about.
“I will support whatever you feel you need to do no matter what. You know that right honey?”
“I know.”
Wade, my wife’s ex had come to our wedding. It wasn’t that unusual for an ex to come to a wedding. Maybe things ended on good terms, or maybe the relationship became friendly once both partners had found other people.
But with Wade it was entirely more complicated.
— — —
In most relationships, there comes a moment when both people decide — explicitly or implicitly — to stop seeing others. Sometimes it happens early, sometimes it takes time. And sometimes, one person assumes exclusivity while the other doesn’t even realize the conversation never happened.
Abby and I met online. Our profiles matched well, and from our first date, I felt a strong connection. She was funny, smart, and more attractive to me than anyone I’d ever dated. She was exactly my type. So pretty early on, I made the decision to focus solely on her. I stopped dating other people without ever saying anything — I just assumed she’d done the same.
We were spending so much time together, I couldn’t imagine she had room in her schedule for anyone else.
But she did. Abby kept seeing Wade.
I didn’t know. She never told me she hadn’t stopped. She loved me — but she couldn’t bring herself to end things with him.
I found out by accident. I’d stopped by her place to surprise her, and though I didn’t walk in on anything, I arrived just minutes after Wade had left. She hadn’t had time to clean up, and the truth was written all over the room — and her face.
I was stunned. Hurt. But as the shock settled, I realized we’d never actually had the exclusivity talk. Technically, she hadn’t broken any promises. Still, it felt dishonest. She apologized over and over.
I asked her why — why she kept seeing him if she truly had feelings for me.
She hesitated, then said, “I’m just… addicted to the way he makes me feel. I wish I could stop, but I haven’t been able to.”
It was hard to hear. In most relationships, emotional connection and physical intimacy are enough to make exclusivity feel natural. But for us, it hadn’t been. Our growing bond hadn’t outweighed whatever she was still getting from Wade.
“Help me understand,” I said. “You say you care about me, but you keep seeing him. And you kept it from me.”
“I know. That was wrong. I just… saw it differently.”
“How?”
“I’ve been building something real with you. Something long-term. With Wade, it’s just physical. The attraction is strong, but I’ve never imagined a future with him. No living together, no marriage, no kids. Nothing lasting.”
“But you can imagine all that with me?”
“Yes. Absolutely. I know it sounds like a weak excuse, but I think that’s why I didn’t bring it up. I was scared it would hurt you — or end what we were building.”
I nodded slowly, absorbing it all.
In that moment, I realized I had two choices: walk away from a woman I was crazy about and could easily see myself marrying, or accept the reality of her side relationship and hope it would fade on its own. Some might say there was a third option — give her an ultimatum. But that’s never been my style.
— — — -
Our relationship continued, as did her dates with Wade. Abby had grown less guarded, and I became more aware of when she was seeing him. Still, she made an effort not to flaunt it. My only request was honesty — if I asked a question, I wanted the truth. Beyond that, I let things be.
Occasionally, I’d suggest plans only to learn she was already scheduled to meet Wade. If it was something important, she’d reschedule. That mattered to me.
I learned about Wade in fragments. They’d met at her gym. One reason I hadn’t realized she was seeing someone else was that they often went straight to his place after workouts. He wasn’t quite a stereotypical gym rat, but he hovered near that line. Big guy. Built like a tank. I saw him once, about a month after I found out, when I arrived early to meet Abby. I waited outside, unsure of what I might walk into. Then I saw him exit her building, and I knew instantly.
He wasn’t conventionally handsome — his face was forgettable — but his physique was striking. Later, I learned he was a volunteer firefighter and part-time personal trainer. It fit.
The contrast between us was jarring at first. But maybe that was the appeal. If Wade had been more like me, Abby might’ve felt compelled to choose. Instead, she had two very different men, each fulfilling different needs.
That day, when I finally went up to her apartment, she’d just stepped into the bathroom. The bed was stripped. The air felt… transitional, like I’d walked through a revolving door into her life.
I found her in the bathroom — she hadn’t locked the door. She looked startled, but not upset.
“He just left,” she said.
“I know. I got here early and saw him leave. Cutting it close?”
“Sorry. We lost track of time.”
“Does he know about me?”
“He does.”
“And he’s okay with that?”
“I think he either doesn’t care or finds it convenient.”
“Convenient?”
“We can be together, and he doesn’t have to worry about me wanting more.”
“You mean emotionally?”
She nodded. There was a pause. Her eyes searched mine.
“Do you want me to say it? That Wade and I slept together?”
“We both know.”
I stepped closer. The intimacy of the moment was heavy. She hadn’t yet showered. I could feel the tension between us — curiosity, jealousy, desire, love — all tangled.
“Does this… affect you?” I asked, touching her arm.
She inhaled sharply. “Yes.”
“Did he satisfy you?”
“He did. But I asked him to leave because you were coming.”
“So if I hadn’t shown up, he’d still be here?”
“Yes.”
“Was he upset?”
“A little. But he’s confident I’ll be back.”
“Is that true?”
She hesitated, then nodded, eyes glistening.
“Is it that good with him?”
Tears spilled over. “It is. But… I love you, John.”
Her words hit me like a thunderclap. She was torn — between passion and love, between physical fulfillment and emotional connection. And the first time she said she loved me, she was still wrapped in the remnants of another man.
“I love you too, Abby. I think I’ve loved you since the moment we met.”
We kissed, deeply. Then she pulled back.
“Wait. Let me clean up.”
“No. Stay.”
She looked at me, stunned. I kissed her again, and she melted into my arms.
That night, we made love. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t polished. But it was real. I wanted to reclaim her, to remind her of what we had. Maybe I thought that if I could prove myself, she wouldn’t need Wade anymore.
Afterward, I apologized for finishing too soon.
“Don’t be sorry,” she said, smiling. “It’s a compliment. I was afraid you’d be angry or disgusted.”
“I’m not.”
“I love you, John. You’re the one I want to be with.”
We spent the evening together, wrapped in quiet affection. But later, she did go to Wade’s. She didn’t lie about it. I didn’t protest. I went home, and she went to him.
— — — -
Things carried on like that for a while. Abby and I grew closer — our lives more intertwined, our routines more shared. We were a couple in every visible way, and everyone around us knew it. But Wade remained in the picture. Their relationship was discreet, confined to the gym or one of their apartments. They were never seen together in public. That wasn’t what they were about.
A few of Abby’s friends knew about Wade, and they knew I knew. Thankfully, they were discreet. No one ever brought it up to me directly.
Still, I couldn’t shake a strange feeling — not guilt exactly, but a quiet discomfort. As Abby and I deepened emotionally, I wondered if I was failing her by not asking her to end things with Wade. It was as if she needed me to draw that line, to give her a reason to let go. But I didn’t. She seemed happy, fulfilled, and I didn’t want to disrupt that balance.
Then one night, we were hanging out with our friends Jen and Bobby. A casual evening — drinks, music, laughter. Until Jen, mid-story about a shopping trip, said something that changed the mood instantly.
“Don’t you remember? It was the day we ran into Wade — ”
Silence. Jen froze. Abby looked at her, wide-eyed. Bobby shifted uncomfortably.
I broke the tension. “Guys, it’s fine. We all know what’s going on. It doesn’t have to be weird.”
I knew that as the supposed “wronged party,” it was on me to set the tone. If I showed I was okay, they wouldn’t feel the need to tiptoe around it.
“I’m sorry, John,” Jen said. “I didn’t mean to bring it up. I’ve told Bobby, too. I should’ve been more careful.”
“It’s alright,” I said. “Abby still sees Wade. I know. That’s all there is to it.”
Jen hesitated. “But… I mean, it’s unusual. I guess we just don’t understand how you’re okay with it.”
I glanced at Abby. “Is it okay if we talk about this?”
She gave me a playful look. “If you’re okay, I’m okay.”
Jen continued. “It’s just… different. I’m not judging. I’m just curious.”
“It is different,” I admitted. “It took some getting used to. But it works for us. Abby doesn’t flaunt it, and I don’t feel threatened.”
Bobby chimed in. “Is it like… a ‘hotwife’ thing?”
I’d heard the term before, but never applied it to us. “Not exactly. I didn’t encourage it. It just… happened.”
“Well,” Abby said, her tone looser now, probably thanks to her second vodka cranberry. “You’ve never told me not to see him. And there was that time we were together right after…”
I felt my face flush. Jen’s eyes widened. Bobby looked like he’d swallowed a rock.
“Yeah, but…” I trailed off.
Jen leaned in. “Do you get off on it?”
I hesitated. “There’s something about knowing she’s… desired. That she’s that confident in herself. It’s complicated.”
Abby smiled. “Do go on.”
We hadn’t talked about it much. But our relationship was getting serious — marriage wasn’t off the table.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Do I wish she wasn’t seeing him? Sure. But she’s always kept it separate. I guess I didn’t want to risk what we were building by drawing a hard line too soon.”
Abby reached for my hand. “You mean the world to me. If you want me to stop seeing Wade… I will.”
Her pause didn’t go unnoticed. I didn’t say anything in front of Jen and Bobby, but I felt it. She loved me enough to end it — but it wasn’t her preference.
“Then yeah,” I said quietly. “Will you?”
“I will,” she said, with witnesses.
Later, while the girls chatted in the kitchen, Bobby leaned over.
“Don’t tell Jen,” he said, “but I kind of get why you were okay with it.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I’ve seen the guy. And Jen told me Abby mentioned his… size. It’s kind of hot, thinking about Jen with someone like that.”
His honesty surprised me. There was something to what he said. I had reacted a certain way that day after Wade had been with Abby. And if I’m being honest, part of me wanted to feel that again — to understand what it was that stirred me.
The rest of the evening unfolded like any other. Abby was more affectionate than usual, her touches softer, more deliberate. Maybe she wanted me to ask her to stop. Maybe she needed it for closure. Or maybe she wanted proof that I could be everything she needed.
Whatever the reason, it felt like her time with Wade was finally coming to an end.
— — -
A few days later, Abby asked if we could talk. The way she said it — soft, deliberate — sent a ripple of unease through me. I had hoped our last conversation had settled things, but now I wasn’t so sure.
“Is everything okay?” I asked, trying not to sound as anxious as I felt.
“Yeah, honey. Everything’s fine,” she said, reaching for my hand. “I just… wanted to ask something. I hope it’s not too much.”
“Okay,” I said, cautiously optimistic. “Go ahead.”
“I talked to Wade,” she began. “I told him it’s time to end things. He wasn’t thrilled, but he understood. He asked if we could take one last trip together. Something short. His words were… ‘go out with a bang.’”
I blinked. “When?”
“This weekend. The sooner we do it, the sooner it’s over.”
It felt sudden, but her reasoning made sense. She was closing a chapter, and maybe she needed space to process it. I couldn’t fault her for that.
“Alright,” I said. “I don’t see why not.”
Her face lit up with a grateful smile. “Thank you.”
“You look excited,” I said, before I could stop myself.
She hesitated. “It’s just… his parents have a place. In St. Thomas.”
I raised an eyebrow. “He’s taking you to the Caribbean?”
“Yeah. Is that… okay?”
“Sure,” I said slowly. “I just didn’t expect it to be that fancy.”
“He says it’s not a big place. There’s a pool, and it’s near the beach. Not right on it.”
“Sounds nice.”
She tilted her head. “You sound weird now. Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
I paused. “Can I think out loud for a second?”
She nodded, her expression cautious.
“I guess I’m worried Wade might see this as a chance to change your mind. To convince you not to end it.”
Abby considered that. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
“Yeah.”
She leaned in. “John, I’m serious. That’s not going to happen. I care about him, or at least what we had. But that’s not something I want to build a life around. I know that.”
I gave her a small smile, still unsure.
“What if I promise to stay in touch while I’m there? Send updates, check in. Would that help?”
“You think you’ll have time for that?” I asked, half teasing.
She smirked, then tried to hide it.
“Look,” I said gently, “I know you enjoy being with Wade. I know you’ll miss that part of it. And I appreciate that you’re willing to let it go because you love me. You don’t have to pretend you’re not excited about this last trip.”
She reached for my hand again and kissed me — soft, lingering.
“What did I ever do to deserve you?” she whispered.
— — —
The weekend crept up faster than I expected, mostly because Abby was in a whirlwind of preparation. On my end, I had a fleeting thought — one that had been simmering for weeks — about proposing to her before she left. I’d already bought the ring, days after our talk with Jen and Bobby. Her decision to end things with Wade had given me the confidence that she was truly committed to us.
But proposing before she left for her “last weekend” with Wade felt wrong. Manipulative, even. I didn’t want her to feel guilted into anything. It would’ve cast a shadow over something that was meant to be a clean goodbye.
That feeling was reinforced Thursday night, when I helped her finish packing.
“So… I had an idea,” she said as we finished dinner. “But I’d understand if you’re not up for it.”
“With that kind of intro, I’m definitely curious,” I said, smiling. Our banter had always been one of the best parts of our relationship.
“I need to pack for tomorrow, obviously. And I was wondering if you’d… want to help me choose what to bring.”
“You mean… pick out what you’ll wear for Wade?”
She nodded, a little sheepishly. I could see the uncertainty in her eyes.
I didn’t hesitate long. “Sure. Could be fun.”
Her smile was electric. She took my hand and led me into her bedroom.
We still had separate places — an arrangement that had quietly persisted. I suspected it was partly so she didn’t always have to go to Wade’s. Maybe after this trip, she’d consider moving in with me.
Her bag wasn’t large — just a weekend’s worth of clothes. A few casual pieces: shorts, a wrap skirt. Nothing overtly sexy. Then she disappeared into the bathroom and returned wearing the first of two bikinis.
Abby had pulled her hair into a high bun, the kind she wore at the beach to keep it off her shoulders. I’d never been able to explain why, but that look always did something to me.
She stepped into the room in a red bikini. Not quite a string bikini, but close. The French-cut bottoms elongated her legs, and the top lifted her chest just enough to make the whole ensemble feel like a statement. And it was new — something she’d bought just for this trip.
“What do you think?” she asked, turning slightly. “It’s more for show than sunbathing. Think Wade will like it?”
That question hit me like a punch and a caress at the same time. My mind raced with images I didn’t want but couldn’t ignore. My girlfriend, spending a weekend with another man, wearing that.
I swallowed hard. “Yeah, babe. I think he’ll like it.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
I couldn’t tell if she was testing me or just being honest. Was she hoping I’d ask her to call it off? Trying to provoke jealousy? Or was this her way of saying goodbye to that part of her life?
“I’ve got one more,” she said, slipping back into the bathroom.
I sat there, trying not to spiral. We’d worked so hard to keep things separate. Why now, on the eve of her final trip, did it feel like she was blurring the lines?
Then the door opened — and I was speechless.
She wore a micro bikini, the kind that barely qualified as clothing. It was bold, unapologetic, and left almost nothing to the imagination. She’d even shaved completely to wear it, something I hadn’t seen before.
She grinned. “I take it you approve?”
“You’re killing me,” I said, half-laughing, half-reeling.
“You’ve been amazing through all this,” she said, stepping closer. “But I have to ask… is there a part of you that actually liked it?”
“Liked what?”
“Me seeing Wade. Most guys would’ve drawn a line. Most guys wouldn’t have been okay with what we had. But you… you never pushed. You even made love to me right after I’d been with him. So… what’s the deal?”
“I’m not most guys,” I said quietly.
“John, I’m serious. Does it turn you on?”
I paused. I’d thought about this more than I cared to admit. Did I enjoy knowing she was with someone else? Not exactly. But there was something about her confidence, her sexuality, her ability to be fully herself — that I admired. Even if it hurt sometimes.
“It’s complicated,” I said. “But no, it’s not terrible.”
“And you still want me to end things with Wade?”
“I do.”
It felt like a vow, especially knowing the ring was tucked away in a drawer at my place.
“Okay,” she said with a smirk. “Just checking.”
I stepped forward and kissed her, wrapping my arms around her nearly bare body.
“Whoa, baby. Easy,” she said, noticing my reaction.
“I thought you were showing me this to get me excited for a little goodbye fun.”
“Oh… I get that. But would you mind if we didn’t?”
I blinked. “Why?”
“I bought these for him. And… I want to feel fresh. For the weekend.”
Her words hit me harder than I expected. She was drawing a line — not just between us and Wade, but between now and then. She was preserving something for him. Denying me.
And strangely, that made me want her even more.
“I could take care of you with my hand,” I offered. “Or… we could wait until you get back.”
She smiled, clearly pleased. “Let’s wait. Might make things easier.”
She was right. The weekend would be tough. If I didn’t hear from her, I’d worry. If I did, I’d probably overanalyze every word. Staying grounded would be hard enough without adding emotional confusion to the mix.
I agreed. And I swear, I’d never seen Abby look so satisfied with herself.
— — -
I glanced at my watch. Her plane should’ve landed by now. All day, I’d wrestled with the impulse to ask her not to go. Then, minutes later, I’d feel a strange excitement about what might unfold. It was a rollercoaster — one I hadn’t expected to ride.
Her past meetups with Wade had always been quiet, almost invisible. I’d learn about them after the fact, never during. But this trip, with its tropical backdrop and the weight of finality, felt monumental. I wanted it to be over. I wanted us to move forward. And yet, I was discovering feelings I hadn’t anticipated — conflicted, raw, and hard to name.
About thirty minutes later than expected, I got a text.
Abby: Plane landed. Much smaller than I expected, but we made it. Flight attendant joked that if we were overweight, she’d have to leave Wade behind. She was practically throwing herself at him!
Me:
It was a weak reply, but I couldn’t think of anything better. Why did she care if someone flirted with Wade? Was she jealous? Protective? Or just venting?
I left work and drifted home, barely registering the walk. I was halfway through deciding what to eat when there was a knock at the door.
Bobby stood there with a bottle of scotch and two steaks. “A little birdy told me you might need some company tonight.”
Jen. Not Abby. Jen knew what this weekend meant and had sent Bobby to keep me distracted. I appreciated it more than I let on.
We fired up the grill in the courtyard, and just as the steaks started to sizzle, my phone buzzed again.
Abby: A nice guy at the resort took our photo! Thought you’d like to see.
Attached was a photo of Abby in her red bikini with Wade in tight swim trunks. Wade’s hand was casually on Abby’s bare thigh mere inches from her crotch.
That was nowhere near as bad as what appeared was going on in his crotch. I could clearly see the outline of his dick and it looked massive. It threatened to come out the bottom of the trunk leg it was running down. His confidence radiated off the screen. I stared at the image, stunned.
Bobby noticed. “What is it?”
I handed him the phone.
“Sweet holy Christ,” he muttered.
“Should I delete it?” I asked.
“If it were me? I’d probably keep it. Might come in handy later.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Handy how?”
He hesitated. “When Jen and I first got together, she was pretty reserved. I used to wonder what it’d be like if someone else… unlocked something in her. Took her somewhere I couldn’t.”
“You’d really want that?”
“Not saying I’d act on it. But the idea? It’s powerful.”
I laughed, but Bobby didn’t.
“You’re serious?”
“Your girl’s on a tropical island with a guy who looks like he was carved out of marble. Just saying.”
“Yeah, well… I couldn’t do that.”
“I didn’t expect you to.”
“Wait — were you planning something? Like, springing Jen on me?”
He took a long sip of scotch. “What makes you think it’d be a surprise?”
I nearly choked. “No way.”
He shrugged. “You said no. So I guess you’ll never know.”
—
The rest of the night passed quietly. We drank too much, talked about everything but Abby, and eventually Bobby crashed on my couch. I didn’t get any more texts, which was both a relief and a torment. I fell asleep with visions of Abby taking Wade’s massive schlong echoing through my brain.
I woke around 3 a.m., restless. My phone had a message from Abby, sent at 1:30.
Abby: I’m sending you something. Only watch it if you want to. If it’s too much, don’t. I love you, and I can’t wait for what’s next for us.
There was a video attached.
I hesitated. My stomach tightened. Would she really send me something intimate? Did she want me to see it? Or was this her way of saying goodbye to that part of her life?
I hit play.
I hit play and held my breath.
“Ok. It’s started. First, show me your cock.”
The video panned over and there it was. Wade’s cock. Angry, throbbing. Then with her free hand she reached out and wrapped her hand around the base of it. She only had about a third of it covered. To hammer that point home, she moved up it and squeezed above where she had been holding and then did it again above that. Three hands worth and there was still a tip poking out past it.
I couldn’t fathom how she could fit it inside of her comfortably. I suspected I was about to see for myself.
“I don’t think I will ever get over how big this is, Wade,” my wife said from behind the camera of her phone.
“Are you just going to play with it or are you going to take care of me?”
“I always take care of you, baby.”
“Except, you won’t anymore after this weekend…”
“…come on. We talked about this. Let’s just enjoy this.”
There was a noise like a jostling and then a jump cut.
Now, the phone was obviously in Wade’s hand as I could both of Abby’s. She was straddling his muscled body with his giant tool poised at the entrance of her snatch.
“You sure this isn’t too much?” Abby asked Wade.
“He needs to see what you’re giving up for him.”
“Oh god,” she mewed as the bulbous head of his cock pierced her lips.
“Look at how wide she has to stretch to take it,” he said in a low growl.
He was talking directly to me and it unnerved me.
“Oh, Wade. Every time. It makes me feel like a virgin.”
“Ok, ‘Madonna’,” he snorted.
She ignored his comment and continued to ease down on his cock. It just kept going into her. She’d occasionally ease back off and then move back down past where she had been before. Soon enough, she bottomed out.
I swear I saw her stomach bulge where I imagined the tip of his cock was pushing her insides.
“Holy shit, Wade… sooo good. I love what this cock does to me.”
“Are you really ready to give up this cock?”
“Shhh, not now.”
“Tell me this is the best cock you have ever had.”
“It’s… it’s the best cock I’ve ever had.”
“Tell me it’s bigger than your boyfriend’s”
“Stop, Wade.”
“Say it. He can see it for himself and he wants to hear it.” The cockiness in his tone was palpable but obviously seemed justified.
“Oh, Wade.”
“Say it, Abby,” he asked firmly.
“It’s bigger than my boyfriend’s,” she whined.
“That’s why you kept fucking me for months after you got serious with him?”
“Yes,” she moaned as she continued riding his thick shaft.
“You didn’t want to give it up?”
“No,” her answer coming out strained, as if she didn’t want to answer but couldn’t stop herself.
“Whose pussy is this?”
“Mmmmm,” she moaned, seeming to avoid his question.
“Abby, whose pussy is this?!?” he implored her to answer.
“It’s your pussy, Wade!”
“I own this pussy?”
“Yes, Wade. You do,” her confession almost bittersweet.
“Tell John. He needs to hear it.”
She looked right at the camera. “Wade owns my pussy, John.”
“That’s right. I claim it,” he exclaimed.
With that he came. I saw his cock throbbing and heard his grunting. This set Abby off. And she collapses on him.
After a few minutes of them catching their breath, he whispers something I can’t quite make out. She groans and sits back up achily and pulls up off of him. And that’s when I see a big glob of his cum drip out of her and back onto his wilting but still substantial dick.
The video ended with silence. No final words. Just the sound of waves in the distance.
I sat there, heart pounding. I couldn’t believe she’d sent it. And yet, I understood why. She wanted me to know the truth. To see what she was walking away from. To trust that she was choosing me, fully aware of what that meant.
She still had another day and a half with him. But I knew — when she came back, everything would be different.
-to be continued-
. Love the start to this.
