The Cuckold Condition: An anthology of 6 short stories about the first time cuckold and the emerging hotwife by JL Sanders

Author:JL Sanders [Sanders, JL]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: PMI
Published: 2022-05-01T23:00:00+00:00

Her Alter Ego Made Her Do It

“I told him he was crazy of course,” Ashley shook her head at me. But she also grinned. It was a tiny grin and she struggled to erase it and even half-turned her face away from me to hide it, but I caught it anyway. We were in a noisy Spanish bistro over in Old Town where we stopped for some tapas after a very strange movie.

It was about a man who is cuckolded by his wife, but who didn’t get mad — he only watched. It was a French film, part of the local film festival, something Ashley had to know a few things about so she had a clue for her live TV show the next morning interviewing the executive director of the festival. But what she was telling me about instead was her guest the previous morning — the famous Mountain Man whose captivating clips of survival in the wild had become a sensation around the world. He had apparently invited her to his cabin after the appearance.

“Seriously,” I half squinted at her and slowly, thoughtfully, pulled a chunk of pork off a skewer with my greasy lips closed around it. She always had to dress to the nines in public because of her profile and that night was no exception. She was wearing a pale blue Marilyn-Munroe-esque dress — shoulderless and draped around her neck to swoop down over her breasts and cinched at the waist. With her blue sapphire earrings and wavy caramel-blonde hair, she had to know she was drawing leering looks. She was used to it.

“Seriously,” she replied, leaning her chin on her thumb to half-cover her mouth. She spoke with her eyes pulled sideways and her mouth too. “He never invites anyone up, they say. Nobody even knows where it is.”

I sat back and tilted my stemless glass of wine to my mouth but I kept my lawyerly eyes on hers. “Do you think it’s safe?”

“I can’t imagine being in the wild like that with anyone else yet still feel safer,” she nodded.

“I meant compared to being out there at all.”

She sagged one shoulder and tilted her head with a knowing smile at me. “I’m a journalist at heart, Drew. You know me.” Her sparkling eyes flashed. I always chase the story.”

“This is something different though — normally you’re in the studio chasing celebrity’s thoughts, in the city.”

“But I need something different,” she reached out and stroked my arm with her deep brown-painted nails. “There’s a part of me . . . “ she trailed off and scanned blankly around the tables of the crowded bistro.

“ . . . that?” I urged her to finish her sentence.

She inhaled deeply and slumped back in her chair. “A part of me that thinks I’m also an outdoor girl, a survivor, a trooper.”

I had to laugh. Her idea of camping, last time we even tried, was a rented full-on luxury home on wheels that barely squeezed between the trees at the lake.

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