I Might Not Even Sleep with Him

By Paul S. Forrester

“Have a good night!” I shouted out to my wife as she left for the evening.

"Thanks,” she shouted back as the door closed behind her, “But I might not even sleep with him!"

Then she was gone before I could process what she’d said...

Did I imagine it?

Was she making a joke?

Or was it something else?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paul S. Forrester
• Release date: Mar 27, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005323370

Paul S. Forrester

I'm an English guy who enjoys writing erotica, and specialises in subjects that society considers taboo. I find it interesting to explore how different people might react to given situations, especially if it challenges normality.I try to keep a little humour in my work, too. Reading fiction should always be fun, as well as sometimes thought provoking and hopefully, exciting too.

Book preview

I MIGHT NOT EVEN SLEEP WITH HIM

by Paul S. Forrester

Have a good night! I shouted out to my wife as she left for the evening.

Thanks, she shouted back as the door closed behind her, But I might not even sleep with him!

Then she was gone before I could process what she'd said...

Did I imagine it?

Was she making a joke?

Or was it something else?

A husband learns his wife is having an affair and apparently doesn't care that he knows.

He struggles with how to react to this and is surprised when he doesn't hate the idea and quickly becomes a willing partner in her infidelity, even meeting her lover and becoming a part of their games.

1. Discovery

Have a good night, darling! I shouted out to my wife as she left for the evening.

Thanks, she shouted back as the door closed behind her, But I might not even sleep with him!

Then the door slammed shut and she was gone before I could process what she'd said.

My focus had already been switching back to the TV but those quick few words from her had frozen my brain as it tried to make sense of them.

I muted the TV and pondered chasing after her, but quickly suppressed the impulse. That would be silly and I'd look a fool. Anyway, I could hear her car already reversing out of the driveway as she left. I stayed in my chair, physically immobile but with my mind racing as I tried to figure this out.

My wife was having a night out with her friends, right?

At least, that's what she'd said when she'd let me know she'd be going out tonight. Such things weren't unusual, and I appreciated she needed some time with her friends. They were a lively circle of thirty-somethings she'd grown up with and they'd all stayed in touch. Her evenings out suited me just fine. I was an introvert and really didn't enjoy socialising, and I'd assured her several times that I didn't mind her going out with her friends whilst I stayed home. I genuinely didn't mind, enjoying my own company for the evening and she always came back happy and relaxed, talking about this and that.

I decided that I had simply misheard her as she left that evening, or that Claire was playing a joke on me. Maybe she was checking to see if I was paying attention to her. If so, well played, Claire. Well played.

Maybe I had been taking her a little for granted at that. It happens when two people live together for a long time, they slip into routine as the sparkle goes away. I cast my mind back across the time we'd been together.

We had met almost a decade earlier, having both attended a friend's Barbecue. I'd been immediately attracted to Claire and hardly left her side all evening. She was beautiful, fit, worked as a Lawyer, and had an air of confidence that I found mesmerising. We talked throughout the evening and I was amazed when she came home with me, something neither of us had ever done so quickly before. It's a cliché, but it really did feel like we'd known each other for far longer than the few hours that had really passed.

Our engagement was short. In fact, she asked me to marry her the very next morning two minutes after I had opened my eyes. We eloped a month later to avoid the fuss of a big family wedding and got married after asking two secretaries from a nearby office to act as witnesses at the registry office.

To this day I considered that marrying Claire had