Your Hot Tub, My Wife

Mike and I had always been good together—loyal, sweet, domestic in that cozy way that happens after a few years of marriage. But sexually? Something had shifted. Or maybe something had finally awakened. The jokes started innocently enough—me teasing him about his size, him getting red-faced and flustered in that frustrated, adorable, submissive way he does. Then the jokes turned into late-night pillow talk. And the pillow talk turned into fantasies. Then… silence.

Not awkward silence. Just the kind that lingers when you both know what’s being said without saying it.

One night, while he was kneeling between my thighs with his little cock in its stainless steel cage—licking me with that eager, tongue-only worship—I said it out loud for the first time.

“I want more.”

He looked up, eyes wide, lips glossy. “More?”

“I want to feel stretched. Filled. Taken by a man who can give me what you can’t.”…