The Reluctant Fertile Wife Read online

  The Reluctant Fertile Wife

  By JB Richards

  Copyright 2018 JB Richards

  “We should talk about having a kid again.”

  I paused in the doorway between our bedroom and bathroom, watching my husband, my wet nakedness covered only by a towel as he’d surprised me just out of the shower. His back was to me as he fished in the top drawer of his dresser. I hesitated, taking in the familiar shape of him, suddenly conscious of the beads of water gliding down my smooth skin, a sudden flush of heat coursing through me.

  “Well,” I said, slipping into the room and toweling off my hair, “if you’re saying that you’re about to toss my wet, naked body onto that bed then I am certainly all for it.”

  Peter chuckled, turning enough to glance at me. I felt a tingle of anticipation as his eyes widened, catching sight of me fully for the first time. With a smirk I let the towel drop free of my hand, straightening my back and pressing my breasts out toward him. God, I never grew tired of his reaction to me. Each time he saw me naked he was just as eager as the first time.

  “I wish, Tara,” he said, eyes drinking me in. “Can’t right now, though.”

  I padded barefoot across the room and pressed a palm against the growing hardness in his slacks.

  “That’s not what this says,” I murmured.

  His muscles tensed as he struggled with the desire burning through him against the need to get to the office on time. With a little luck, my perky breasts would win out against boring cubicle work. I leaned in and dragged my lips along the freshly shaved smoothness of his chin.

  “Tempting,” he muttered, regret filling the word. He pulled away, and I gave him a little pout, though we were both smiling. “I’m serious, though. We should talk about it soon.”

  A pang of sadness hummed through me, and I blew out a breath as I retrieved my towel and finished drying off. “I’m not sure what there is to talk about. The doctor said—”

  Peter spun and grabbed my hands, clasping his powerful grip over mine. “There are options,” he said in a quiet voice. “Just because I…” He trailed off, swallowed, and met my eyes. “Just because I’m not able to doesn’t mean there aren’t other avenues.”

  Trying to keep myself positive, I leaned in and gave him a quick, passionate kiss. Despite the sadness welling within, I forced my smile to shine when I pulled back. “I prefer the old fashioned way.”

  Peter’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Oh, I know. Trust me, I know.”

  “Are you sure that being tossed onto the bed is out of the picture?”

  Both our eyes flicked over to the bed beside us and I waggled my eyebrows in an exaggerated suggestion.

  “Tell you what,” Peter said, pulling back. He hesitated, licking his lips in an almost nervous manner I rarely ever saw from him. “We’ll do something special tonight.”

  “Yeah?” I said, heart quickening. “Special?”

  “Very special,” he replied. “A night you won’t forget. Something I’ve been working on for a bit. I think…” He trailed off, swallowed, and glanced away. Oh, now what was this? Peter getting all flustered like a fresh teenager certainly was cute.

  “I think you’ll like it,” he finished, the words carrying a throaty promise of lust. I shivered. “I certainly hope so.”

  * * *

  That evening, I heard Peter return from work as I lay in bed reading. I glanced up from my book as his footsteps echoed to me, quick and eager. He burst into the bedroom, practically tumbling in with excitement on his face.

  “I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he almost panted, gliding across to the bed. I pushed up, my book forgotten, as a sudden and intense heat of need hammered through me. “I got nothing at all done at the office.”

  The bed groaned as he dropped down beside me. One of his hands pushed aside the robe I was wearing — I hadn’t even bothered to get dressed today. My flesh shivered at the insistent touch, bumps rippling along my skin. My breath hissed out of me, eyes fluttering closed, my body kicking into overdrive as pleasure pushed aside any rational thought.

  “Oh, really?” I murmured. In response, Peter leaned in, flicking his tongue across one rapidly hardening nipple. I hissed, back arching, pressing upward into his eager, warm mouth. His tongue swirled for an instant before he shifted to my other, more neglected breast.

  Peter pulled back, his eyes glittering with something primal. “We’re going to try something different this time, though.”

  Languidly, I slid back onto the bed, making sure to accentuate every curve as I smiled up at my husband. “Do tell,” I said, grinning.

  Instead of responding, my husband rose from the bed. I felt a moment of loss, wanting nothing more than a hot body and hard dick right then, but the feeling evaporated as he dipped a hand into his top dresser drawer and pulled free a bundle. Turning back to me, he flicked his hand, and a long expanse of shimmering cloth unfurled and fluttered through the air. Brilliant blue, two inches across and nearly twenty feet long, it cascaded down across my exposed stomach.

  “It’s a bit early for a parade,” I said with a chuckle.

  Peter grabbed the cloth with both hands and gave it a hearty snap. “I thought I’d tie you up.”

  I opened my mouth to respond, but Peter pounced like an animal taking its prey. He was on me in a flash, hands manipulating me with force and purpose. I gasped at the raw need of it. He tore my robe free, hurling it across the room before grabbing my naked hips and yanking me upward. My body twisted as unyielding hands pulled me up and around to my knees.

  “Peter,” I exclaimed, more than a little out of breath with my own hammering need and the sheer animal rawness he used to manipulate me. “What are you—”

  My words cut off as he swept his left hand out, grabbing my wrists as my hands held me up, and with a single strong pull he slipped them out from beneath me. I collapsed onto the bed, kneeling, face and breasts pressed into the mattress. My ass uplifted and exposed no less. I couldn’t remember the last time Peter had handled me so forcefully. Strong, needful, precise. A man in control.

  Normally it took a little playing for me to get aroused, but I could feel myself growing suddenly wet, a pulse of fiery heat surging through my veins.

  My husband moved quickly. The silken ribbon of cloth wound around my ankles, and with a quick tug my feet were lashed together. Kneeling there, face pressed into the mattress, I could feel him working. The restraint circled around my thighs and then about my hips. Peter paused long enough to drag a single finger along my slit, and I couldn’t help but groan at the soft touch. Around went the cloth, twisting about my waist just below my breasts, tight but not painfully so. Peter moved further up my body, wending it up between my tits. With a quick tug he pulled the binding tight, lifting my breasts and separating them.

  “This is certainly interesting,” I said.

  “Just wait until you see what comes next.”

  I wiggled my bound ass for emphasis. “Hopefully me.”

  Peter grinned and quickly slipped the ends of the cloth around my neck, the cool and soft cloth encircling it fully twice. With the last bit left, he bound my wrists together, and I found myself tied and fully bound. I knelt there, wet pussy exposed, wrapped in such a way that I could only kneel. Ankles bound, knees bent, hands clasped so that I could only just rest on my elbows. With even the lightest push I’d topple over, fully at my husband’s mercy.

  And it wasn’t even my birthday!

  I glanced up at Peter, fixing him with my most inviting smile. “Care to join me?” I gave another little shake, sure that the ribbon I was trussed up with had to be accentuating my delicious curves.

  Peter licked his lips. “I would love to.�
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  With a bit of careful shuffling, I spun myself. Turns out it is exceptionally difficult to move when one’s knees and elbows are roped together, but I managed to point my dripping snatch at him, facing the wall with my bound feet hanging off the bed.

  “But I can’t,” Peter finished.

  I froze, confusion flickering to the surface of my lust-filled consciousness.

  “I don’t understand,” I said, glancing over my shoulder. I couldn’t quite see him. Pulling at the bindings, I tried to free myself. Damn. He’d done a wonderful job.

  One of his hands rested on my ass, fingers as gentle as a summer breeze. “Enjoy yourself while I’m gone.”

  “Peter? What do you mean?”

  He gave a squeeze, and I heard his footsteps retreating from the bedroom, down the hall. The click of the front door closing sounded unimaginably loud to my own ears. Gone. My husband had bound me - hand, foot, and body - and then simply walked from our home. What in the ever-loving hell? I twisted to try and glance behind me, now regretting that I’d spent so much effort to shimmy my way around in the first place. The motion proved too much for me, and I slumped over sideways onto the bed, trussed like a pig to be spit over a fire.

  “Peter!” I called. Silence.

  With some concentration and moving slowly in the small amounts allowed by my bindings, I rolled back to my elbows and knees, ass thrust up into the air. Sweat beaded on my skin from the effort, but I gave a little shout of triumph once I was upright. Almost worst of all was the fact that all of this had me so damn horny with no release. I hated myself for being turned on.

  “Stupid body betraying me,” I muttered, wondering if there was any way I could get myself off while bound this way.

  Distantly, I heard the front door open and close again.

  “About time,” I snapped, a feeling of relief washing through me, quelling the growing panic. “I almost thought you were going to leave me like this. We have to talk about boundaries.”

  The shuffling footsteps grew louder. I tensed with a frown. I’d grown used to the way Peter sounded as he walked through the house. These steps sounded different to me. Oh my god, had he left the door unlocked? Visions of masked intruders busting into our home and finding me bound and tied on my bed flooded my mind. Images of men pressing into the room, discovering me naked, my pale skin accented by the brilliant blue of the enormous ribbon I was tied with - I could stop the pictures from filling me with panic.

  No. Oh, god, no.

  “Peter?” I queried, hating the way my voice shook.

  “Hi, Tara.”

  I froze, as still as a statue, as the words reached me. Most definitely not my husband. I craned my neck, heart pounding, and caught a glimpse of a figure standing in the doorway.

  “Kyle?” I blurted, a half laugh, half cry tearing its way out of me. Shock and shame and relief mingled in a heady cocktail. One of Peter’s friends, a man who spent a decent amount of time in our house. I liked him. Friendly, charming, and attractive. I could remember one night drunkenly admitting to Peter that I’d found Kyle attractive, and to my surprise, my husband had been intrigued more than anything.

  And now, here he stood, staring at my exposed pussy.

  Shit, I thought, snapping back to reality. I’d almost forgotten I was bare-ass naked and on display for him. What in the hell was he doing inside our house anyway? Shame burned at my cheeks, being so exposed as I was. Kyle was a drop dead hunk, but never in my wildest imaginings had I ever thought things would wind up like this.

  “Oh my god what are you doing here?” I breathed, willing the universe would end right then. I wanted to shrink away to nothing, and legitimately thought about rolling off the bed and trying to shimmy underneath it in the hopes that his eyes would be blocked from seeing my nudity.

  “Wow,” Kyle said. “Just… wow. I mean, I’d dreamed of what you looked like naked, but you are simply amazing.”

  “Where’s Peter?” I asked. The words came out as sharp as a razor.

  “I’m not sure,” he said. “He sent me a text asking me to come here and…” He trailed off, but I barely noticed.

  Peter had asked him to come? He must have sent the text earlier, before whatever messed up game this was had started. There was no other explanation.

  My husband… My husband wouldn’t have deliberately left me naked and tied up while inviting his friend over.

  Would he?

  Warm, delicate fingers found the curve of my ass. Despite myself, I shivered at the soft touch. My teeth chomped down on my lip - hard - trying to push any arousal out of my body. But oh my god it felt good to be touched. I was still in lustful overdrive, having expected a fun playtime with Peter. I couldn’t just turn that off, but damn it all I was going to try.

  “Look,” I said, trying to force any shame and nervousness out of my voice, “this is all just a big misunderstanding. Peter will be back any minute, so if you don’t mind, could you leave me be until he comes back.”

  “I could,” Kyle admitted. Questing digits slipped further back, tracing the roundness of my perky, exposed cheek. Skin rippled with need as he traced light lines closer and closer. I squeezed my eyes shut. Shame flooded me. Why was I enjoying this? I was tied down, helpless and naked. I should be shouting, fighting; but that damned soft touch was maddening, like pouring gasoline on the flames searing within me.

  “That wasn’t the deal, though,” he finished.

  My eyes snapped open, a cold shock tensing my muscles.

  “Deal?” I gave a nervous, forced laugh. “Right. As if Peter would invite you up when—”

  A phone dropped down onto the bed in front of my bound hands. The screen showed the messaging app. Clear as day, I could see Peter’s message.

  She’s all ready. Have fun!

  No. This had to be some kind of joke. I mean, I’d certainly fantasized about what it would be like to get Kyle naked and alone for an hour - maybe two - but this… this…

  A knuckle brushed my exposed sex, dragging sensuously downward, parting my lips. Heat - incredible, shameful heat - blossomed within me, a torrent of ache and need and hunger hammering outward from my pussy. I blew out a hot breath at the sudden and unexpected sensation. God, it felt good.

  I hated myself that my body responded to another man’s touch.

  “Peter told me you’ve thought about me. About us.”

  My eyes pressed closed again as I tried to gain control over my body’s betrayal. Stupid, sexy body! Even if Peter wanted this - and god help him if that was true - I couldn’t give in to this. Images of Kyle, naked and sweaty, our naked flesh pressed against one another in a writhing ecstasy flickered through my mind, a slide show of carnal passion. Stop that! I thought at myself, but instead I felt a new flush of warm radiating from my slit as Kyle’s knuckle dragged back downward. God, I could actually feel my wetness, the way his fingers glided between my swollen lips.

  “Whatever Peter might have told you,” I said with only a little cracking as Kyle’s fingers moved again, “I’m not having any of this. We can’t do this, Kyle. We can’t.”

  “You say that,” he answered, pulling his fingers free of me. I breathed a sign of relief and let my head sag down to rest on my bound hands.

  “But your pussy says otherwise.”

  Two fingers pressed into me, slipping deep into my tightness.

  “Oh god,” I moaned. My body spasmed against my will, back arching, head flying back. I hissed out a breath through clenched teeth as a white jolt of bliss pounded through my veins. With agonizing slowness, this man who was not my husband slipped his digits deep into my pussy, until his other fingers rested against the hood of my clit. A shudder rocked through me, near enough to an orgasm that I let out a little whimper that I was suddenly so close to coming but hadn’t quite made it. I’d never been so close so quickly before. I hated the feelings surging through me, and yet I wanted nothing more than to climax right then and there on Kyle’s fingers.

  “Plea
se,” I begged, and in that moment I wasn’t sure if I was asking for him to leave or give me more. Both. Neither. A rage of conflicting feelings battered at my consciousness. I knew I shouldn’t enjoy this. Shame clawed at my mind. No, this needed to stop. I couldn’t give in. I had to hold on to my—

  Kyle pumped his fingers in and out of my snatch with deliberate slowness. My teeth bit down hard on my lower lip again as I tried - and failed - to contain a moan. My shoulders shuddered as my husband’s friend worked two digits in me. I buried my face in the bed to stifle more groans. My body swayed with the languid motion of his hand, the tips of my breasts brushing again and again against the mattress beneath me, sending little eddies of pleasure through me.

  Why did it have to feel so damn good?

  Fingers drew hot lines up my back as Kyle’s other hand trailed along my spine. Peter had tied me well, but not so tight as to be uncomfortable, so Kyle was able to slip his free hand under the length of ribbon that encircled my neck. The backs of his knuckles pressed against me as he closed his grip, and then with a steady pressure he pulled back. A second of struggle tensed my muscles as Kyle drew on me like a rider with the reins of a horse. My back arched, my breasts flew up, and Kyle hauled me back onto fingers buried deep inside my cunt. My hands, bound as they were before me, made it look like I was praying in ecstasy.

  Maybe I was at that.

  My air cut off just enough that my vision swam, a swirling mix of breathlessness and red-hot pleasure rolling through me. My body bounced lightly in time with his plunging fingers. One hand pulling me back by the bindings at my neck, the other pressing digits deep into my aching folds over and over and over. My back ached from the angle I was bent as Kyle pulled harder. He leaned over me, eyes staring down into mine.

  I’d have been panting if the ribbon hadn’t been choking me in delicious ecstasy.

  Somewhere in the haze of it all, I knew this was wrong. I shouldn’t be enjoying this. Peter… we’ll, we’d be having words about boundaries when I next saw him. Maybe he was okay with his friend coming in to taste all my delicious secret places, but I wasn’t sure how I felt. This was too much for my mind to process, this mix of shame and ecstasy, of worry and pleasure.