Honey, I Met a Guy at the Park
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About this ebook
Sometimes, all it takes is another man...
Mary had suffered from postpartum depression and felt it had hurt her marriage to Connor. Thinking herself frumpy, she hides her fears behind her stroller. Her psychologist gave her a self-help booklet she had authored and sent her on her way. Mary was afraid to try more than a little bit in the book.
Connor finally convinces his wife to try the next phase in the booklet when she comes home bubbling about meeting a man at the park who thought she was nice.
Together, they plan out Mary's approach to this man and it succeeds beyond both of their expectations.
Connor finds his wife swept up by the man and the relationship enriching their lives dramatically. Dare he enjoy watching his wife taken unprotected, repeatedly?
Laran Mithras
I write sexy stories that skate along the edge of modern relationships. I don't like cliffhangers, endless chapters, or ongoing fighting and misunderstanding until the last page of the book. So, I don't write those in my books. Many authors think they're being edgy and have an alpha-male alien who's never heard of Earth running around saying, Jesus Christ! every two pages. Ridiculous. So, yeah, I don't do that, either. No religious expletives in my books.I write from the standpoint of realism. My heroes and heroines are normal people who make the extraordinary leap to sexual and emotional fulfillment. Most of my stories are HEAs and are designed to provoke a deeper thought about where we stand with our relationships.I don't live with two dogs or cats who rule my life; I have two pet rats. Yeah, really.Comments on stories or other questions can be directed to: laranmithras@charter.net. Connect with me on Facebook: Laran Mithras. Happy reading!
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Honey, I Met a Guy at the Park - Laran Mithras
A good wife is a naughty wife. A flirting wife is the best of wives.
~ A very wise marriage counselor
CHAPTER 1
I watched out the window as my wife pushed the stroller along the sidewalk. She had been at the park for hours.
Mary had birthed our son almost two and a half years ago. I had bought her a jogging stroller to help her work off her birth weight, but she only walked with it.
She came in and unloaded the stroller. While doing so, she said, Honey, I met a new guy at the park.
I might have been annoyed at the implication a few years ago, but Mary had experienced a bout with postpartum depression and had gone to counseling. She had felt our marriage was suffering, but I didn't feel as strongly. I wouldn't go.
I always figured, the damned psychologists screwed a person up worse than before. Being that doctoral dissertations had to be unique, I was sure plenty of those psychologists were trying out their new idea on their patients. Forget that shit.
But Mary insisted on going.
Connor?
Hmm?
I was still standing, watching her.
Did you hear? His name is Drew.
The counselor she had seen had given her a small booklet she had written: How to Be a Naughty Wife. I had read it with a skeptical eye. But the female psychologist looked like she had been on to something fruitful.
I said, Yes. Who is he?
I needed to be supportive. The counselor's suggestions had done wonders for her mood and outlook towards our marriage. Really, she didn't need to follow the booklet anymore, but we had both grown accustomed to practicing it.
She let Brandon run to his room and stood up to face me. She blew a breath upwards to blow a curly brown lock out of her eyes.
I loved her; she was beautiful. Not a lot of men would say that about my wife. They would say she was average. She had very light blue eyes and very pale skin. Her dark brown hair was liberally stranded with silver - prematurely. I refused to let her dye it.
She said, He's a father. His daughter is three. She played with Brandon on the slide.
Oh? You've never seen him before?
No. He said he and his wife are new to the area. She's an investment manager just transferred. They've been in town for a couple weeks.
She came up to me and gave me a kiss.
I hugged her and squeezed her butt. Despite all the walking, she maintained a larger set of hips than before the birth. I thought it was sexy. She was the tiniest bit pear-shaped.
She gave me a smile. I'll tell you more later.
One of the ideas presented in that booklet had been to talk about people we met in bed. The more intimate the better. Supposedly it created a bond of trust that energized the connection between the two lovers.
It had worked, though I never thought I was distant or things had gone stale. But her postpartum had made her feel that way and I was supportive.
~ ~ ~
I was in bed when she climbed in. I checked out her panties.
Stop that.
I like it.
She laughed. I need longer t-shirts.
I'll throw them all away.
She pouted. I don't like my figure.
It's sexy.
Is not.
Is so. You have the sexiest hips in town.
She giggled and grabbed my briefs, squeezing. Why don't you take these off?
Oh? Want to talk about the guy?
She blushed. Even now, after two years of practicing the book, she still found some parts embarrassing. Okay.
I slid off my briefs.
She sighed. What a hunk.
Him?
She laughed, her nose scrunched up. I meant you.
Oh, is he ugly?
She gently grabbed my cock and began toying with it. No, not at all. He's really handsome.
A regular Don Juan, huh?
The booklet had said that the person revealing things should be doing intimate things to their partner at the same time. I kept my hands to myself for the moment.
I don't know. He has a soccer physique.
We don't watch soccer. How do you know?
He was running and kicking a soccer ball practicing goal shots.
My cock began to firm. I had