Slut Wives: Ladies' Night

By Andrea Martin

Amber and Darryl are two weeks away from getting married and couldn’t be happier. There’s just one small problem eating away at Amber. While Amber was a virgin when they first met, Darryl was a wild child, a guitarist in a touring band. He’s been around the block and had experiences Amber can only imagine.

When Amber finally confronts Darryl with her doubts and insecurities, he presents her with an opportunity. One chance to experience everything she fears she has missed – Ladies’ Night.

Slut Wives is a series following naughty wives indulging in extra-marital fun, sometimes without the knowledge of their husbands. It features explicit sexual scenes and is intended for adults only.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Andrea Martin
• Release date: Jun 29, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463797945

Andrea Martin

I am Andrea Martin, the architect of your deepest desires. I write brisk, pacy stories full of character and intense erotic detail. I have sold over two thousand books to satisfied readers like you and that number is rising every single day. My stories usual involve taboo kinks, such as cheating, cuckolding, and rough sex fantasies. Some of my tales are based on real encounters, others are pure fantasy. (I'll leave it up to you to decide which is which!) I believe that marriage is the beginning of a whole new set of fantasies and experiences, and my goal is to make you feel the same way. I'm always open to suggestions, confessions and fantasies from my readers! I aim to publish new material on a regualr basis. If you like what I write, feel free to get in touch! I can be found on Reddit and Patreon as xxxandreamartin. Praise for Andrea Martin: ‘Wonderfully written and edited with great teasing, storytelling and lead in with full delivery on its sexy promise. What's not to love?’ ‘...the first book I've read by Andrea Martin. I can already tell you that it won't be the last!’ ‘Highly recommended.’ ‘Very hot and horny story, quite fast paced.’ ‘I have read other stories by this author and the writing quality has been excellent... a hot, fun read that I would recommend.’ ‘An amazing book Andrea, I look forward to reading many more of your works.’

Book preview

Slut Wives:

Ladies’ Night

Andrea Martin

Copyright 2018 Andrea Martin

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition Licence Notes

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Amber & Darryl I

Two weeks to go. Flowers – arranged. DJ – booked. Catering – confirmed. Tables – planned. Re-planned. Planned again. First dance – still to decide. Torn between something classic and slow or something modern and upbeat. Number of guests – finalized. Nobody is bringing any plus ones now. I don’t care who they are or how hot their date is, it’s done and dusted. Almost. Just two weeks to go.

I sit at the cluttered kitchen table and study the checklist again for the fiftieth time this hour. It still looks the same. I feel better for studying it, but the check marks haven’t quite covered the whole page just yet. There are still a few tasks to finalize before the big day. A few more commitments to confirm before we tie the knot.

The engagement ring on my finger shines in the sunlight. Every time I look at it, a smile breaks out over my face. I’ve been wearing it for almost eighteen months now and I still feel as happy and as special as the day Darryl asked me to marry him. I try to imagine how the wedding band will look on my finger, alongside its partner. I can’t wait to wear it. I can’t wait to be his wife. I can’t wait to wear my two rings, one a proposal, the other a promise.

Eternity.

Man and wife for the rest of our lives.

A small, tiny niggle of worry worms its way through me. I stamp it out, but I know that it will be back before long. I’ve been having this feeling more and more lately. This strange sensation of doubt, worry, and indecision. I’m so excited to marry Darryl; he’s my life partner; my soulmate; my whole world. And yet…

And yet, there’s a tiny part of me, a little voice in the darkest room in the back of my mind that says, this is forever, you know. You can’t change this. There’s no going back.

I don’t know if that’s normal. I’ve never been married. Before Darryl, I’d never really done, well, anything with any man. He was my first – my first kiss, my first love, my first sexual partner. In two short weeks, he’ll be my last, my only, my everything. I couldn’t be more excited, more thrilled, more delighted.

So why do I feel that tiny niggle of doubt worming its way through me again?

It’s jealousy. I know it. I am jealous of Darryl and the life he had before we became one. He had gone out into the world. He had lived. He had sown his wild oats – many, many wild oats, if my hunches are right – while I had gone through school and college with my face buried in text books and my mind always focused on the next deadline. Then I met Darryl. My real-world experience pales in comparison to his. I remember the first time we watched porn together – my idea, it was supposed to be a kinky game I’d read about in Cosmo or something – and I couldn’t stop asking questions. Is that a thing? Do people really do that? Holy crap, doesn’t that hurt? Darryl was so patient and attentive and caring, dealing with all my weird questions and stupid concerns. That night we ended up watching porn as more of a scientific study than to get us off.

Darryl is my soulmate. I know it. I say that without any doubts or worries or fears. He is the man I was always supposed to meet and fall for. I know that he had his own life before we became lovers – as a touring guitarist in a band, I always guessed he’d lived hard and fast prior to meeting me – but I’ve never asked him how many women he’s slept with in his life. I don’t want to know for two reasons. Firstly, that’s gross, I don’t want to know how many frogs my prince kissed before he found me. Secondly, that would make my jealousy worse. If I knew he had slept with, say, twenty women, I would feel vastly inferior and totally insecure. Maybe he would feel the same way if our roles were reversed, I don’t know. Darryl’s past is the one area of our relationship we’ve never explored.

Sometimes I wonder why he chose me. Of all the women in the world, all the lovers he had taken to his bed, why did my fiancé decide that I was the one for him, for the rest of his life? He must have slept with better, more skilled, more passionate women than me. What did I have to offer that was so special?

It doesn’t make sense sometimes. In the beginning, I was clumsy in the bedroom, too shy to undress around him, and paranoid about how he might perceive me. I’ve gotten a little better since then – less clumsy, less shy, but still kinda paranoid when I compare myself to other women.

I have no idea why he chose me. I have no idea why he looked at my body the way he did. I have no idea what I could possibly offer him that a hundred other women could do better. Surely he had enjoyed lovers who were more skilled in the bedroom? Surely he had enjoyed lovers who were more wild, more passionate, less concerned with how he might think of them? He must have slept with women who had bigger boobs, or tighter asses, or women who knew what they were doing when he pulled his pants down. Hell, I didn’t even know how to give a blowjob for the first few months of our relationship because I was so unsure of how to do it. I used to slap it with my tongue. I’m better now – more confident, a lot more skilful, and I actually know what to do with my mouth – but what kind of man is happy to marry a woman who doesn’t know how to pleasure him like that?

I shake off my thoughts and insecurities and turn my attention back to the checklist once more. No changes have happened in the last few minutes. The same boxes are still ticked. Two weeks to go.

I glance at the ring again. It’s beautiful, shiny, sparkling, like his eyes when he gazes at me in bed. It is a symbol of how much he loves me. But it is also a permanent reminder that I will never have the same life experiences as Darryl. Am I okay with that? Can I live the rest of my life only knowing the touch of one man? Can I look back on my life and think that I had done everything I could? Will I regret not having a wild, untamed sex life before we settle down?

Once upon a time, I thought so.

Now that it’s real, I’m not so sure. It’s not that I don’t love Darryl – truly, madly, deeply love him – but I worry about regretting my lack of experience later in life. Sure, we’re happy now, but what about in ten years? Twenty? Thirty? Will he still look at me with sparkling eyes when we’re old and gray? Will I look at him and still be satisfied with what we have, or will I wish I’d been a little wilder when I had the chance?

The front door clicks open, dragging me back to reality. Darryl’s heavy footsteps enter the house. The front door bangs shut behind him. I look up, smiling, as he walks into the room. My knight in shining armor. My fiancé. A good-looking man in his late twenties. His cheeky smile winks out at me from his short, dark beard. His many ear piercings glitter in the sunlight.

‘Tick off flowers,’ he says, grinning. ‘That’s good to go.’

‘Flowers confirmed,’ I say, and tick it off. Flowers are now ready. Set in stone. Like my love life. I smile at him, trying to push all my previous doubts and worries out of my mind. I love him. He loves me. Sometimes life is just that simple. Why am I trying to make it so complicated?

‘You okay?’ he says, concern in his voice. I don’t know how he always knows that there’s something on my mind, but he does. He always does.

‘Nothing,’ I say. ‘Just starting to panic.’ I gesture to the pile of files, brochures and contracts around me, the pile that has been steadily growing for the past eighteen months, ever since he proposed to me. Sometimes I don’t believe that we’ll ever see the end of it. Even when we’re married, this pile will reappear every day, growing in size until it completely overtakes our den and exploded out through the windows. The thought makes me smile.

‘Not nothing,’ Darryl says. He kneels down next to me, takes my hand. He kisses the ring he put there eighteen months before, his coarse facial hair tickling my fingers. I love the way he kisses the ring. It makes my heart melt every time. ‘Something’s wrong. Tell me.’

I look up into his beautiful brown eyes. He has never lied to me. He has always been honest with me, no matter how awkward it was, like that time he told me ease up on squeezing his balls. That was super difficult for him to tell me, because I’d only just gotten comfortable handling his testicles. Shouldn’t I give him the same respect?

‘Come on, Amber,’ he says. ‘I can tell when something’s eating at you. What is it? Are you worried about the wedding? Getting cold feet? What is it?’

He smiles, but I can see a hint of worry in his amazingly expressive eyes.

I bite my lip. Conflicted. Worried. Doubt gnawing at me. Should I tell him what’s on my mind? Should I tell him that I’m worried about never having another man in my bed for the rest of my life? How would he take it?

He takes my hands in his, looks straight into my eyes. He can read my soul, I’m sure of it. My heart melts looking into his handsome face.

I steel myself. Take a deep breath

‘Promise you won’t be mad,’ I say. ‘It’s just… I’m having some doubts…’

****

Part One:

The Virgin

We met three years ago. I was nineteen, he was twenty-five. I was a preppy college student with no real-world experience. He was a guitarist in a band. I was totally innocent. Totally naive. Totally inexperienced. My only worry was if I was going to pass my upcoming finals. The first time I laid eyes on him was like something out of a movie. He was jamming on stage in front of a packed crowd of half-drunk college kids, grinning down at us, his bare torso gleaming with sweat under the stage lights. He had longer hair back then, his face clean-shaven. The strap of his guitar was slung across his toned chest. The eyes of most of the girls in the crowd were on him and he knew it. His fingers darted over the guitar strings,