Portrait Of An Open Marriage

It was true—I knew she was interested. We'd joked about it plenty of times before. "When are you going to let me at that hot husband of yours?" she'd ask me. "Whenever you like," I"d tell her. I started teasing my husband about it every now and then. Sometimes when we’d have sex I'd talk about her being there. It always was about wanting more sex than my husband could offer, and sex different from that which any one person could provide. pushed him over the edge.

Finally, I decided it was time.

"Let’'s do it," I said to her one night when we were at my house, watching yet another terrible, made-for-TV movie. She knew exactly what I was talking about.

"You sure?” she asked.

"Are you?" I asked back.

"Yeah," she said. "As long as you're positive it won’t mess us up."

"I don't think it will," I said. "But you know I can't promise that."

"I know," she said. "But promise me anyway."

"OK," I told her. "I promise."

A few hours later, my husband came home. He slid onto the couch next to me, putting his hand on my right thigh, under the throw blanket. Her hand was already on my left. A few seconds later, I felt their hands accidentally touch, and I saw them look at one another. I'm pretty sure that was the exact moment my husband realized what was going on.

"I’m beat," he said a short while later. "I'm going to bed."

"We’ll be up soon," I said. He kissed me, and began to walk away.

"What about me?" she asked. He looked at me, and then kissed her, long and hard. Laughing, he shook his head.

"You girls," he said, as he headed upstairs. When the movie ended, we followed. We slipped into bed with my husband as if we’d done it a hundred times before, one on either side of him.

Everything that followed felt equally natural.