The First Slut Wife

My husband buys the dress. A stranger takes it off me. Yep, it’s that kind of vacation.

The anklet is my anniversary gift from James. Delicate, gold, and it comes with instructions: when I wear it, I'm available to other men. Twelve years of marriage, one man since college, and my husband hands me a permission slip with jewelry attached. What's a wife supposed to do... say no?

So I put on the red silk he picked out, nothing under it but his three rules. Have fun. Be safe. Tell me everything. Then I walk into the resort bar and do the choosing. Big. Confident. The kind of man who can carry a married woman to bed one-armed, and does. I go up to his room a good wife and come back down the hallway a slut wife, deliciously sore, dripping with the proof of it.

My husband meets me at the door already hard.

Because here's the dirty little secret of this whole arrangement: the telling is the filthiest part. James takes every detail with his hands on me and his mouth where the stranger's has been, reclaiming what's always been his.

I'm his no matter whose bed I'm in. That's the whole point.

First time. No guilt. My pussy is already humming about the next one, and my husband has never loved me more.

I'm a hotwife now. Go us.