Sharon Hits the Deck
A Hotwife Fantasy
Mark’s neighbor, the refrigerator sized Reggie Decker, invites him over for a beer. Turns out he’s as crass and oafish as he seems. High school football star turned retail worker who’s still riding high on memories of better days.
He also has a thing for Mark’s wife, Sharon. He doesn’t mind sharing what he’d do to her if he could get his hands on her.
Mark gets mildly unsettled at this but not in the way he feels he should. There’s something tantalizing about the thought of the big bull next door having his way with his uptight wife. Arousing, even. But Sharon would never go for it. Not in a million years. She’s too busy spending their staycation tidying up the house and purging the basement.
Except when Sharon stumbles onto them having a beer in Reggie’s garage she seems not the least bit put out by the attention he pays her.
Which gets Mark thinking very dirty things. And wondering if maybe there’s a way after all…
Sharon’s brow started to twitch as she glanced over her shoulder for the third time in as many minutes.
I knew the look all too well. We were getting close.
“Do you want another glass of wine?” I asked, trying to smooth the wrinkles on her forehead.
Her lips formed a tight line. “Well that would probably be a little difficult since we can’t even seem to get the bill,” she quipped.
I let out a quiet sigh. Turned to look at the door and the lineup stretching out onto the street. “I think they just got busy, sweetie,” I said.
She shook her head, her scowl deepening. “It’s a Friday night. They’ve been in business for three years now. They can’t figure out that things get busy on Friday and hire a couple of extra waiters?”
I opened my mouth but thought better of trying to argue with her. It was either going to happen or it wasn’t. Sharon was either going to ask for the manager when our waitress came back or keep her mouth shut. She was unpredictable that way.
It wasn’t like I’d tried to find a pattern. This had happened enough the last few years that I’d had plenty of observational data. You just never could tell. She was a Schrodinger’s uptight white lady. You didn’t know if she was going to tear you a new ass hole until she did. Or she didn’t. That was Sharon.
The pretty brunette who’d be waiting on us finally appeared with a tiny tray with the bill and two mints on it. “I am so sorry about the wait,” she said, looking genuinely apologetic. “Two of our waitstaff had to go home just as the rush started. I’ve gone ahead and taken the tax off your check. If there’s anything else I can do to make up for the wait please let me know.”
Sharon’s back straightened.
I pulled the tray over to my edge of the table and stared down at it intently.
Sharon licked her lips. She cleared her throat.
Three, two, one…
I let out another slow sigh. We were in the clear.
“We appreciate the gesture,” Sharon said. “I see things are really piling up at the front door. Let’s pay up so we can free up the table, Mark.”
“Of course sweetie,” I muttered. I grabbed a wad of cash out of my wallet and plopped it down onto the tray, leaving a healthy tip for the young woman. “The service was excellent,” I said, standing up and moving behind Sharon’s chair to pull it out for her.
“Once again, really sorry about that wait at the end,” she said, smiling sheepishly.
“Not a worry. Hope your night goes smoothly.”
Sharon flashed her a tight smile before spinning around on her heel and heading toward the door.
The tension and silence that had been simmering between us dissipated as soon as we stepped out into the cool summer night.
The line up was almost down the block. I felt bad for the waiters that were still there. But I was elated that our server had the presence of mind to offer us something for the wait. Maybe she’d known? Probably dealt with women like Sharon all the time. She’d probably known. Probably saw it scrawled all over Sharon’s sharp features. Whatever. We’d dodged a bullet and so had she.
“Do you want to take a walk down Riverside?” I asked, smiling at my wife.
She scowled. “Tonight?” she asked.
I shrugged. “It’s a nice evening,” I replied. I thought maybe a bit of air would lift her spirits.
“It’s Friday,” she said.
“Yeah I know it’s Friday,” I replied.
“I watch Hatch at ten on Friday.”
“Of course you do,” I said.
“Don’t you want to have sex before that?” she asked.
I hesitated and looked out toward the river. A tour boat was all lit up heading upstream, carrying partyers to the brewery district. It looked fun. “Of course I do,” I said quietly.
“We should get home then,” Sharon said, adjusting her clutch under her arm.
“We should,” I echoed. I walked next to her enjoying the waning buzz I had from my two glasses of wine and the laughter of a group of college aged kids across the street.
When we got to the car I opened the door for Sharon and held it as she got in. After shutting it I jogged around to the driver side and popped in myself.
As I started the car and pulled out onto the street Sharon’s mood seemed to lighten.
“Well despite the wait at the end dinner was lovely. Thank-you,” she said, turning to me and smiling. A real smile this time. Not the terse, forced grin she flashed at people she’d decided not to berate.
“You’re welcome, hun. I love you.”
She cocked her head and squinched in my direction. “Well I love you too. You know that.”
It wasn’t the “well” she needed to plop in front of the “I love you too,” that poked me in a bad place. It was the damn “you know that.” Like, what? It was such a chore for her to say it that she had to admonish me for making her do it?
I let out another slow sigh. Quiet enough that Sharon wouldn’t notice. I was being prickly for no reason. I had a booty call incoming and now was not the time to start a stupid argument.
It was just that lately I’d been having a harder time just swallowing my distaste at Sharon’s personality. The I’d-like-to-speak-to-a-manager mentality that had a fifty fifty chance of being triggered anywhere we went. It was…frustrating. To say the least.
She hadn’t always been like that. When we’d met she’d been a gregarious, easygoing woman who was more likely to chide me for being to demanding than she was to say a word about bad service. Something had changed when her mom had passed. She’d gotten more uptight. More controlling. More…whiny, even.
I felt bad just thinking it but there it was.
We spent the rest of the drive in silence.
When we got home Sharon went to the bathroom to “prepare” herself (yes that’s what she called it) and left me sitting on the edge of the bed.
I undid my tie and the top button of my shirt. Threw the tie onto the chair in the corner of the room. Kicked my shoes off and pulled off my socks. And then…my shoulders slumped and I just couldn’t bring myself to take any more clothes off. It was a little depressing.
Sharon had been a bombshell when I’d met her and hadn’t aged a day in the ten years we’d been married. She was fit, hit the gym three or four times a week, and despite having given birth to two boys had the hourglass figure of a pin up girl. She wasn’t skinny. Her thighs were…substantial and her ass was plenty round. She had big double D tits. But in between was a trim tummy and waist. Visually, she was delicious. Just my kind of woman.
But this personality thing was really starting to get to me. She could be so unpleasant. There’d been so many times I’d felt embarrassed by her behaviour. So many times I’d wanted to bring it up with her.
But when do you start a conversation like that? Over smoothie’s in the morning when you’re late for work? Or after a long day when you just want to have a beer and hit the sack? So the answer was never. There’s never a good time to talk. Not when you’re busy doing other shit.
But tonight felt different. I’m not sure why. Even though she hadn’t been a bitch to the waitress I just felt like I couldn’t keep it in any longer.
I put my head in a hand and rubbed my temples.
The door to the en-suite swung open.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Sharon and my breath caught in my throat. I turned to look at her and my eyes went wide.
“What are you doing?” she asked, brow furrowing.
“I…I…I was just…” I was speechless. Not only was she still wearing her bra, she was still in stocking and her garter belt. And the heels she’d worn at the restaurant. She looked stunning and imposing as hell scowling at me like that.
Normally she’d just come out in her fluffy white robe and turn off the light before crawling under the sheets.
“Are you not into this?” she asked. She seemed annoyed.
My eyes raked down her beautiful frame, the sexy underwear bringing my cock to life in my trousers. “I’m…I’m totally into this. Sorry. I was just…never mind. I…”
Truth was I was stunned. Our sex life, while decent, was as predictable as the rising sun. Sharon didn’t come out of the bathroom wearing lingerie. Not ever. This was bizarre.
“Do you like it?” she asked, her voice still a little terse.
I stood up and padded toward her, unable to keep my eyes from wandering lazily down her frame again. “You look stunning,” I finally managed to whisper.
Her expression softened. The corners of her mouth turned up slightly and she eyed me with an almost playful gaze.
I leaned in and tilted my head. Our lips met. Sharon returned my kiss with a stiff peck.
I drew away and smiled. Can’t win ‘em all. “You want me to turn the light off?” I asked.
“I didn’t leave this on for you to turn the light off,” she whispered.
I nodded. Tonight seemed like it was going to be special. Different. Maybe that conversation could wait after all.