My Husband’s Girlfriend

My Husband’s Girlfriend is a fictionalized retelling of a new to me and Mister K scenario: wife meets girlfriend. I have changed Mister K’s girlfriends appearance for the sake of anonymity. The rest is accurate to the best of my ability.

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It’s been six months. Things are getting serious, he says. The “L” word has been exchanged. He thinks we should meet. 

I’m nervous. Wet patches have formed on my denim clad thighs where my palms rest to keep them steady. He knows my hands are shaking, but he says nothing. I wonder if his are too.

The knock comes, and like a robot, I stand. Each step toward the door seems weightless, like I’m floating. As if I’m here, yet not. As if I’m watching my participation from outside of me. This is what they mean when they say beside yourself, I’m sure of it.

Suddenly my hand is turning the brass handle. The door is creeping open. I’m holding my breath. Stars are dancing in my vision. The room grows dark.

 And then she’s there.

The space between us seems cavernous. My vison narrows and it feels as if we’re at either end of a long dark tunnel. I stand frozen. She steps forward and I can no longer hold it in. Like her crossing over the threshold breaks the spell, I exhale.

My husband’s girlfriend stands before me, taking me in. Her eyes sweep down, then up, asking silent questions, even while her words say polite courtesies in a cheerful tone.

I assess her and can’t help but notice the similarities. There aren’t any.

While thinking I would meet my replacement, it never occurred to me he simply wanted to dip his toes in something new. To taste exotic fruit, no longer forbidden. To try things he’s never had.

I don’t take time to think about that, I’m busy inspecting his girlfriend.

She’s older than me, which I already knew. Not by much. But she has no children, and the difference in lifestyle over the past 20 years is evident. Her face is smooth, void of lines formed by free radicals. The crease between her brows, created from years of worry and frustration, is absent.

She’s blonde. Very blonde. Her hair is almost white. It’s the only color my hair has never been. A color, until today, I thought he didn’t fancy. Is it true? Do Blondes have more fun?

Her skin is bronzed, darker than mine. Not from a bottle and years of diligence in the sun like my tan is. Hers is natural. Coppery with no veins leaping out from under her translucent complexion. There are no faded lines where skin was sheltered from the sun. In her low slung top, I can see she likely has no tan lines at all.

She’s a speck taller than me. Just enough I have to look up. Not a lot. It’s a raise of my head really, but it makes me feel small. This is when I decide to look her in the eye. Establish boundaries. In a voice heard only between women. 

Women who love the same man.

Where my eyes are light, hers are dark. We face each other off, but there is no triumph in her gaze, only gratitude and appreciation. I reply with a small smile. Feel myself soften.

My face is oval, hers is round. Where I am lean, considered petite, she is full and voluptuous. 

She is the exact opposite of me, and for some odd reason, this brings relief.

“You’re beautiful,” I say, and it’s only then as the tension recedes, I notice they have both been as uncertain of this as me. Collectively, the entire room sighs a release, and suddenly I feel almost as if I am… aroused?

Visions of this gorgeous creature enthralled in a coitus dance with my husband has my heartbeat increasing. I picture his hands on her smooth skin, her soft surrender to his hard claiming. I hear sweet moans and rough grunts. Tightening my thighs, I shift my position as I envision their tongues twisting, teeth nipping.

My husband kisses my cheek. He tells me he’ll be home by morning. He gives me a knowing smile.

As they leave together, his hand settles on her hip, just above the curve of her rounded arse. I watch his palm rest there. His fingers spread, like he’s staking his claim.

Before they’re out of view, my husband looks back at me over his shoulder. He smiles widely as if reading my thoughts. This many years together, he likely is. His wink tells me he knows it’s only a matter of time.

How soon is too soon for me to ask.

Can I watch?

Header image for My Husband’s Girlfriend by Photo by Jordan Bergendahl : Edited by author using Canva.

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My Husband’s Girlfriend has been added to Mmm Mondays, because well, yum! For more delicious tales, lick the lips!

You can find more real life erotica about life as MrsK here.