Amateur Wife First Novels & Stories

This story is about the first time I watched my wife have sex in public, but it wasn't with me. It was with several men. We had been married for 15 years, and with three kids, it’s hard to get alone time as often as we did when we were first married. We are moderately conservative people who enjoy a good dinner, good friends, and a good bottle of wine.

She had a nagging feeling that something bad was about to happen. The priest announced, “Everyone, I ask for your patience. The groom is a little delayed. In the meantime, let me play a surprise video the groom has prepared for his bride.” A moment later, moans filled the church. Then, whispers and murmurs erupted. “But after the wedding, you’ll have to give Hugh and me some time alone.” The content of the video was so shocking that it immediately ignited a stir in the crowd. Everyone in the room recognized the voices instantly.

At the time, I actually thought I heard wrong. “What?” “I need a wife,” he said. Not I want you, not I care about you, not I was falling for you, just that. I need a wife. I should have walked away right there. But then he looked at me and said, “I trust you.” And somehow, that was worse. Because Damien Blackwood was not a man who trusted easily. So I believed it meant something. I let my heart be foolish. I let hope grow where it should never have been planted.

Husband and wife experience a renewed sexual awakening. Enjoy.. *********The following is a true story about how I got to know my wife after twenty years of marriage. My wife Lisa is a beautiful woman. We have known each other since 3rd grade as we both grew up in the same small Texas town. I can honestly say that I have been in love with her since I first saw her. It started out as a puppy love crush then advanced to dating and finally marriage after we left college. Now twenty odd years later she still has the same cheerleader figure. At 5'7" and 128 lbs with dark brown she looks more like a thirty year old hottie than a forty-three year old mother of two.

My presence at the sip-and-see event sucked the life out of the party. My indifferent gaze fell on Krystal Markham. “Krystal, care to explain about today?” Krystal and I were a success story, the high school sweethearts who made it all the way to the altar. However, over the last two years, I felt her slipping further and further away. I brushed it off as the spark simply fading over time. Never in a million years did I expect her to cheat on me and have children with another man through surrogacy

Her cheeks burned and without another word, she hurried toward the kitchen, trying her best to hold back her tears. She grabbed the nearest rag, wrung it under running water, then returned before Damien had the chance to call for her again. Everyone in the room stared at her. She bent over and wiped the table with trembling hands, praying nobody would speak. But no such luck. "Is your maid always this clumsy?" a man sitting near the fireplace asked. Before Damien could answer, another replied, "that's his wife." The room erupted. "Wife?" the first man repeated between laughs. "Damien, man, you could do better than this."

"Small. Real. No performance." I thought about the first wedding. The ceremony that had been arranged for reasons that had nothing to do with love. The ring chosen by his mother. The guests who came because it was expected. The enormous quiet of a marriage that had started without either of them fully present in it. Then I thought about a small garden in the Cotswolds in spring. The rose bush coming back from being cut hard in February. Eight or nine people who actually mattered standing in a garden that had been chosen because it was honest.

She’d told me once, early in our marriage, that she found it tedious. But she’d done it anyway. For two years. And I’d never thanked her. Not once. I stood up abruptly. Grabbed my jacket. Why should I have thanked her? The thought came sharp and angry. She was my wife. That was her job. Cooking. Keeping the house. Being there when I needed her. That’s what wives did. I shoved my arms through the jacket sleeves. Except Aria hadn’t needed to do any of it. Aria was a fucking billionaire.

"My wife is wearing the haute couture dress I picked for her tonight. She's stunning. Everyone was looking at her—men and women both. Jealous? Too bad. She's mine." There was a nine-photo collage of me in the gown. "After feeding the goldfish, my wife is now sunbathing. The light on her face makes her appear to be glowing. I can't believe I married someone this divine." Now, it was a nine-photo collage of me lounging under the sun with my eyes closed. "It's winter break at school. I remember the first time I saw my wife was on my way home during winter break in seventh grade. It was love at first sight. Many years have since passed, and now my queen is my wife. I'm so lucky."

After a few weeks, my wife went on a business trip. I was on my way to the kitchen to grab some water when I heard a low voice from the sitting room. I went to check what it was. My breath caught instantly. Amelia was lying naked on her back on the couch, her fingers moving in and out of her pussy, her free hand caressing her nipples with her eyes shut. Fuck! She was damn hot. I knew I should have walked away slowly or shouted at her for doing such a thing in her in-laws’ house, but here I was staring at her swollen pussy, her full big breasts.