Sharing Sandi -- Pt. 01

This is a revised version of a previously published piece with a new title to avoid confusion with another author's story. Thanks for all your feedback and encouragement. I'm hoping to get round to part two when life allows.

- - - - -

"I can't believe we're actually doing this."

There was the slightest tremor in Sandi's voice as she spoke. She was sitting in front of the bedroom mirror applying her mascara, carefully drawing the brush over her lashes.

"I know," I said. "It feels kinda surreal."

It had been a long time since I'd last seen my wife getting ready to go out. The succession of pandemic-inflicted lockdowns over the past year had put a serious dent in our social life. We'd been married close to nine years, and in that time we'd had our ups and downs: moved homes, lost and started jobs, had our daughter Erin and her little brother Robbie. But the last 12 months had been by far the strangest and most stressful.

The gym where Sandi worked as a personal trainer had shut down and looked unlikely to reopen. The web design firm I worked for had sent all its employees home, and while there was still plenty of work to keep me busy, our living room had abruptly turned into my office. Suddenly we had found ourselves confined to our house with only each other for company.

Perhaps it was the need to relieve some pressure, or the fact that suddenly I found myself spending 24 hours a day in the company of a stunningly beautiful woman, but Sandi and I had become more physically intimate than we'd ever been before. It wasn't that our sex life had ever been lacking, but suddenly we found ourselves falling into bed at every opportunity. As soon the kids were off to sleep, we'd be in our bedroom practically clawing at one another's clothes.

It wasn't just that we were playing around more often, either. For some reason we'd unlocked new levels of openness and creativity in the bedroom. It seemed like any kind of self-consciousness or uncertainty about expressing our desires had evaporated, and our conversations about the things we wanted to try together had been almost as hot as our actual sex. After Sandi had whispered in my ear one afternoon that she'd always wanted to be tied up or handcuffed, I'd immediately logged into an online sex shop and bought a collection of toys and restraints. Seeing her writhing and thrashing with her hands cuffed to the headboard while I licked her to a shuddering climax was the most erotically charged thing I'd ever experienced.

It felt like anything was on the table, and we shared ideas and enthusiastically experimented with one another until one morning over breakfast, I decided to open up about an idea that had been increasingly occupying my thoughts. I was nervous, though. In spite of all our recent exploration, I knew this was pushing into new territory.

"Baby, can I ask you something?"

"Hm?" Sandi mumbled through a mouthful of toast. God, even first thing in the morning, wearing one of my faded old band T-shirts and a pair of pyjama trousers she looked incredible.

I swallowed, my throat suddenly feeling dry and tight.

"Have you ever thought about involving someone else?"

Her smile broadened, her expression taking on an air of naughtiness that made my heart skip a beat.

"You mean, like, a threesome? I thought with the way we've been going at it lately you wouldn't have the energy to satisfy another woman."

"Well, maybe not quite like that."

"Oh," she laughed. "So you want to see some girl-girl action? Typical man."

"No!" I sputtered. This wasn't going well. "I mean, that would be... But it's not..."

"Then what do you..." Her smile broadened into a full-on grin. "Oh my God, you're talking about another guy, aren't you?"

I felt my cheeks burn and redden.

"Hey," Sandi reassured me, "it's ok. That's a really common fantasy. You think I haven't thought about it as well? Being the centre of attention for two hot men?"

As she spoke she laid a hand lightly on my chest. I was sure she could feel my heart hammering.

"Two sets of hands caressing and touching me all over my body? Two hot, hungry mouths to kiss?"

She leaned close and slid her hand slowly towards my belt line, knowing exactly the effect that her words would have on me.

"That sounds so good," I almost groaned. "But it's not exactly what I had in mind."

She paused.

"What, then?"

"If you're really not into it, it's ok. I just thought..."

"You know you can tell me anything. I'm not going to get angry or laugh at you."

"Well, you haven't heard it yet."

She gave me a faux-serious scowl.

"Well my coffee's getting cold waiting. Come on, you can't leave me in suspense!"

"Ok," I breathed. "I was thinking maybe you could be involved with someone else. Just you. Like, without me."

Sandi said nothing. Her expression was flat, empty. I felt my stomach drop through the floor. Had I shocked her? Insulted her?

"I'm not sure I..." she began. But just then the kids picked the worst possible moment to barge into the kitchen embroiled in a screaming argument about which cartoon to watch on Netflix.

We spent the rest of the day going about what had become our new routine. Sandi took a set of kettlebells into the back garden and had a workout in the morning sun. I went back and forth with a client making tweaks to their company's new online store. But for all the apparent normality, there was a blanket of tension over the house. I kept my head buried in the code I was working on, and Sandi barely spoke to me, giving me room to focus on the job. I couldn't shake the fear that I'd put my foot in it. Badly.

It wasn't until that evening that we spoke again properly. The kids were in bed and I'd make a chicken casserole for our dinner. We were eating in awkward silence at the kitchen table until Sandi said: "I was sort of taken aback by what you told me earlier."

I swallowed a mouthful and took a deep breath.

"I'm really sorry if I upset you."

"Not upset, no. I just really wasn't expecting something like that. I didn't know what to think. I still don't, to be honest."

"I guess I did kind of spring it on you."

"I just don't understand, Mike. Why would you want me to..." Her voice dropped as though there were anyone around to overhear us. "Why would you want me to have sex with another guy if you weren't involved? What would even be in it for you?"

"I don't even fully understand it myself," I admitted. "I don't know where this idea came from, but it's been growing for a long time. I guess part of it is that I really get off on the idea of your pleasure, and the idea that that could come from me or from someone else is weirdly exciting for me.

"And then there's the fact that it seems so naughty. It's not something I'm supposed to be remotely ok with - the idea of you being with someone else. So actively encouraging it feels, I don't know, just really hot."

"But you wouldn't feel jealous?" she asked.

"I can't know that," I told her. "There's every possibility that if you actually did it, I might find that the reality was nothing like the idea. But the idea is such a turn-on."

She looked down at her plate.

"I think what worries me is that maybe this means you don't care all that much about me. If you're happy for me to go out and sleep with someone else, maybe I don't mean a whole lot to you."

"Baby, no!" I said. "That's the last idea I want you to have in your head. You mean the world to me. I love the life we've built together. I love how you help me get through all the bullshit that's going on right now. If I didn't have you in my life, I honestly don't know what I would do."

She gave me a thin half-smile. "I guess if we can be locked in the house for months on end with nothing to do and nowhere to go, and we haven't gone completely crazy, we've passed some kind of test."

For a long moment neither of us said anything.

"I'm not saying it's something I can be comfortable with, and I'm not saying it's something that's ever necessarily going to happen," Sandi told me. "But I'm not angry with you for telling me about it. I'm glad you felt like you could."

When we made love that night, it was simple. No toys, outfits or elaborate roleplay scenarios. But as my wife drifted off to sleep afterwards with her head resting on my chest, I felt like a weight had been lifted from me.

--

In the next few weeks I was surprised by how dedicatedly Sandi attempted to understand my fantasy. We sent each other links to everything from magazine articles to forum discussion threads talking about swinging, polyamory and open relationships. It turned out there were plenty of guys in my position: husbands who loved their wives, but got off on the idea of them being with other men. Some of what people said online resonated with me, and it was reassuring to feel like I wasn't some kind of freak. But others seemed to want completely different things. Some enjoyed being humiliated by their wives, wanting to be told how much better their lovers were than them in bed. Others went to sex clubs or orgies and watched their partners with multiple men. Those things might feel fantastic for other couples, but they held no appeal for me.

"What exactly do you want, then?" Sandi asked me one day in a text message. Even sitting in the same room, we'd worked out that it was the best way to talk privately while we were in parenting mode.

"I don't know. I guess just that you'd meet someone and be into them."

"Like in a bar or something? LONG time since that's happened."

"Long time since you've been looking."

"Well I don't think many guys would be interested."

I looked over at her and drank in her heart-shaped face, her rounded cheekbones, her almond-curved eyes and her luscious brunette hair. It was the face I'd fallen in love with years ago, and if anything she was even more beautiful to me today. Her figure was strong, athletic - not the emaciated look that fashion magazines held up as the supposed feminine ideal. Not for the first time, I felt a sense of wonder that she'd somehow ended up with me.

"Are you kidding me?" I texted back. "Any guy in his right mind would kill for a chance with you."

"I'm glad you think so :-p"

"I'm serious, you would get so much attention."

"Not likely. And anyway, all the bars and clubs and places that are remotely fun are closed."

"What about online dating?"

"Huh? What about it?"

"You could set up a profile."

She looked up at me from her phone before returning her attention to the screen.

"I didn't say I wanted to date guys."

"I wasn't saying you should, but it would prove how many found you attractive. You'd get tonnes of interest."

"Sure. From some weirdo living in his mum's basement."

"Will you stop putting yourself down? I bet if you did it you'd get at least five NON-WEIRD guys messaging you within 24 hours."

"You bet?"

"Absolutely."

"What do you bet?"

"Full 30-minute foot rub."

I smiled. Sandi could never turn down a foot massage.

"Full half hour?"

"Yep."

"Then it's a bet."

That night I helped her put together an online dating profile, taking a photo for her to upload and helping her to craft a succinct tagline and bio. The idea of other men looking at her, wanting her, being struck by her beauty, was a real thrill. The fact that I was actively participating only made it stronger.

When we woke up the next morning, I had already won the bet. 23 men had requested to message Sandi, and after a thorough joint examination we agreed that only five of them could justifiably be considered "weird." I gave her her foot massage anyway.

"So how does it feel to know these guys all think you're sexy?" I asked as I focused on the little hollow at the back of her ankle. Years of experience had taught me it was a particularly sensitive spot, and she leaned back and closed her eyes, giving a long, contented sigh.

"I'm not gonna lie, it is kind of a boost," she said. "It's been years since I thought of myself that way - as someone people would, you know, want. It's fun to think that they're looking at my photo and thinking: 'Yes, please.' . Although I wouldn't be interested in most of them."

"Most of them?"

"Yeah. Short hair, no ink, dressed like they're on their way to a meeting at their bank. You know I like my men a little rugged. I married you, didn't I?"

"You really think I'm rugged? I'd have gone with plain old 'scruffy.'"

"Oh shut up."

"But does that mean there are some you are interested in?"

She blushed and gave a little laugh.

"Maybe."

"So are you going to talk to them?"

"Hey, this was just supposed to be a bet, remember?"

"Yeah, and I was supposed to have won, but here I am giving you your prize anyway."

"And what am I supposed to say to them? 'Hey, just so you know, I'm actually married?'"

"Sure. Maybe it'll be a deal breaker for some of them. But you've got a bunch of guys who think you're hot, and I absolutely cannot blame them for that. It sounds like some of them maybe do it for you as well, and even if you decide you don't want to take things further, there's no harm done if you're just chatting."

She flexed her toes and smiled at me.

"You're really serious about this, aren't you?"

Over the next few weeks Sandi exchanged messages with three or four men. Whenever her phone beeped and she picked it up with an eager smile, it gave me a rush of arousal. I loved seeing the self-confidence she found in being desired. One night after a particularly enthusiastic session in the bedroom, we were lazily cuddling when she turned serious.

"Mike, I think there might be something with one of the guys I met online."

She sounded as scared and uncertain as I had when I'd first broached my interest in the idea, and I hugged her closer and gave her a goofy, excited grin.

"Really? You think you want to meet him?"

"Well, yeah. When it's safe to meet people again. Is that ok?"

My sudden hardness pressed against her thigh and she laughed.

"I guess I can take that as a yes?"

After our second round, she showed me his profile. His name was Brandon. His picture showed a man with shoulder-length chestnut brown hair, deep brown eyes and a strong, defined jaw with a few days' worth of stubble. He looked to be in good shape, and while his picture only showed his head and upper torso, his chest and shoulders looked well developed.

"I can see what you like about him," I said, impressed. "If I were you, I'd feel the same way."

Brandon lived in our city, worked as a medical lab technician by day and played guitar in a rock band in his spare time. It was just for fun, he said, although they played occasional shows at a couple of local bars. He and Sandi had talked about their interests, their background and, of course, how the lockdown had affected their lives. She'd told him early in their conversation that she was married and that I knew about and encouraged her explorations. He had been surprised but intrigued. Their talk hadn't turned overtly sexual, it was more flirtatious and friendly.

They kept up their conversation for weeks while the country rolled out a long-awaited mass vaccination programme. As a medical worker, Brandon was one of the first to receive the vaccine. We got ours a short while later, and it was a relief to see the world starting to come back to something resembling normality.

"So when are you going to meet him?" I asked Sandi as we lay lazily entangled on the couch one night watching TV.

She smiled at me.

"Wow, you really are ok with this, aren't you?"

"Even more than I thought I would be. When you guys are messaging back and forth you have this kind of happy glow. And you always come to bed feeling especially playful."

"Actually meeting him, though?" She frowned. "That's a big step. What if someone we know sees me out on a... on a date? With someone who isn't you?"

"Then you're catching up with an old friend. It's not like it's any of their business anyway."

"And what if we go ahead with this and you realise you're really not happy with it? I would hate to hurt you."

"I'm kinda worried about that, too," I admitted. "And I know how much you've been enjoying talking to Brandon. I would feel bad if I snatched that away from you because I started feeling insecure."

"That doesn't matter," she said. "If either of us feels unhappy or uncomfortable, we just stop. The only thing that really matters is you and me."

She stretched out her arm and laid her hand on top of mine. I looked at our fingers intertwined, our wedding rings glinting in the light.

"Ok then," I said, my chest tightening. "Why don't you ask him?"

--

Brandon didn't need much persuasion. He and Sandi arranged to meet at a little Italian place in the west end of the city that Friday evening. My sense of anticipation grew with each passing day, and now as I watched her getting ready, I was abuzz with adrenaline.

"I can't believe we're actually doing this."

"I know, it seems kinda surreal."

She was wearing a tight-fitting knee-length black dress with round metal studs around the neckline. Her eyes were smokey and seductive with eyeshadow.

"You look incredible."

"I feel like a nervous wreck. Are you sure you're ok with this?"

Two conflicting sides of my brain screamed at me. Yes! I wanted this with a burning intensity that I'd never felt before in my life. No! This was a stupid idea. This was the woman I loved, why was I taking this kind of risk with the relationship that meant everything to me? I took a deep, slow, careful breath, letting the rising anxiety peak and fade into the background.

"It's just like you said, baby," I told her. "What matters is you and me. I want you to go out tonight and enjoy yourself. But if this is a bad experience for either of us, then we're out. All you need to think about tonight is going out and enjoying yourself with an attractive guy."

"This is so weird," she said. "Part of me is so excited about tonight, part of me says this is crazy. I mean, he seems clever and funny and interesting, but what if I get there and he's nothing like that? Or what if my brain goes blank and I can't think of anything to say and look like an idiot? There are so many ways this could all go wrong."

I laid my hands gently on her shoulders and looked her squarely in the eyes.

"Honey," I said with all the gravity and sincerity I could summon, "whatever else happens tonight, I want you to know one thing."

"What's that?"

"They're meant to do a great chilli prawn linguine."

She laughed, and the tension in the room evaporated.

"You always know how to make me laugh," she said. "That's one of the reasons I love you."

"I love you, too."

She leaned into me, her eyes half closed and her lips only barely parted. I pressed mine to hers, and we shared a slow, tender kiss. I held her tight against my body, breathed in the scent of her perfume. She was perfect, and this was a perfect moment.

The taxi horn blared outside.

"Oh wow, I have to go!"

I helped her on with her coat and followed her down the stairs. As she headed out of the door, she fired off a series of reminders.

"The kids can't be up past half eight, even on a Friday. And there's some leftover roast beef in the fridge. And you can call me on my mobile if anything happens while I'm gone."

"I know, honey. I'm your husband, not the babysitter."

She was half way down the garden path now, checking through her bag for her mobile, purse and keys.

"I love you," she called, "have a good night."

"You too, baby," I whispered as the taxi pulled away.

--

The next few hours were a confusing barrage of emotions. I busied myself getting the kids to sleep and tidying things that didn't actually need to be tidied, but I couldn't help imagining how Sandi's night must be going. She and Brandon had agreed they were only going to have a meal and talk. They wouldn't be going on to a bar afterwards. Or anywhere else. But maybe she would want to?