Adrian and I tried monogamy after our sharing phase. Marriage meant just us—simple and predictable.
It didn't last.
When a man in a suit at the bar looks at me like I'm something to devour, I feel Adrian harden against my hip. We don't look away. We let him stare. Later, we even let him into our private life through a hushed, risky phone call. I'm soaked just listening, feeling Adrian grow harder beside me as I moan for a stranger's voice. But then the coward walks away—leaving us aching and unfinished.
Turns out, when one door closes, another one swings wide open.
A stranger realizes exactly what we are: a stag and his vixen. A husband who gets off on sharing, and a wife hungry to be shared.
This one doesn't walk away. We invite him in. To fill the mouth Adrian just kissed, to split me open on his girth while my husband watches, strokes himself, and finally gets what he's always wanted: me, wrecked and come apart on another man, all for him.
