Love You

"Well?" she asked me husband, modeling her outfit.

"It...I mean...wow," I mumbled.

"That's kind of what I'm going for," she said, "I hope he has the same reaction."

"Yea," I said, looked down, felt the butterflies in my stomach.

This was a look she was familiar with. "Hon," she said, "you sure you're okay with this?"

"I...I just...I'm used to you coming home...after," I stammered.

"It's just one night," she said, "he'll bring me home before noon, I promise."

"I know," I said said, "I...I just...I feel like he...like he's being...presumptuous. I mean, you're my wife..."

"And I'm his girlfriend," she said, "he's acting like a boyfriend. It's not unreasonable for him to expect overnight dates at this point. At first, sure, but it's been six months, I think he's entitled. A quick screw was fine at first, but given the, um, roles the two of you have, he's entitled to have more than a few hours to do his part."

Part of me regretted ever making the promise when we met him. It seemed so safe back then, so easy to promise that if they hit it off their relationship would be exclusive, that only he would have sex with her. The trouble was, another part of me found it so erotic, knowing sexually she was his, not mine. Oh, we had intimacy, we did things, but we no longer fucked, only he did that.

"You want to kiss me goodbye...down there," she asked, "or is that too much?" She reached for the hem of her dress, waited for my answer.

"Hon..."

"It's up to you," she said, "I know you're always conflicted about it, so it's up to you."

I hesitated, lowered my head, hesitated, nodded.

"Go on then," she said, raised her dress.

I got to the floor, knelt down, lowered my head, kissed one hose covered foot. "I love you," I said with each kiss. I knelt up, kissed each knee. "I love you," I said again. I raised up once more, leaned forward, inhaled deeply, kissed her hose covered pussy. "I love you," I said, "I love you."