Carol and I are both competitive types. People say that’s a bad recipe for a marriage, but it never caused us any problems - least of all in the bedroom! No, things were fine until about three years ago when her company moved most of its operations to Ireland, and Carol found herself overqualified for the kinds of positions available here. I’d just gotten a major promotion, so financially it was a wash. But professionally it left Carol at loose ends, and frustrated to boot.

Fortunately, after three or four unhelpful career change workshops, my wife met someone who she considered a supportive kindred soul. Alice was a surgical nurse who had been de-employed in a hospital merger, and Carol found her to have a lot of likes and attitudes in common. The two of them started hanging out during the day while I was at work, and found some kind of women’s group that met a couple of nights a week.

I met Alice a couple of times when I was picking up Carol. She was a handsome woman, polite but rather cool to me. But anyone who could improve my wife’s mood was good in my mind. And even without finding a new job, Carol’s mood and energy had picked up, both around the house and in the bedroom. Especially in the bedroom, where my wife started suggesting all sorts of little twists and positions as if we were dating again.

I was a happy guy.

A month later, Carol invited Alice to dinner at our house, and my wife was hell to deal with the entire week. She demanded I get a fresh haircut, she insisted none of the wines in our pantry were suitable so I had to do something in that department as well, and she put more effort into the dinner menu than she had since we were first married and my parents were visiting. You would think we were entertaining Carol’s boss, and not just her support group friend.

Once Alice arrived, however, the tension in the house dissolved. The dinner went well, Carol’s cooking was splendid and Alice turned out to have a sly sense of humor. We were having drinks in the living room afterward, in that mellow post-meal state, when Carol grabbed my shoulder and pulled me into the kitchen. She kissed me thoroughly, snuggled and rubbed against me, and whispered into my ear that she wanted Alice to join us in bed tonight.

I might have had second thoughts – hell, I’d have had third thoughts – but I was mellow from the wine and drinks, and Carol was stroking my ass like she does when she wants me naked and inside her. What guy in his right mind would say no?

I’ll admit I was a bit concerned about Alice being one of those barely-bi controlling women, but it turned out to be nothing like that. In fact, Alice seemed intent that she and I should keep Carol happy, busy, and very very loud. For myself, even with the two-woman fantasy happening I wound up staying hard longer before cumming, both for Carol and then for Alice.

I don’t really know what happened after that; I was out like a light until Carol woke me up about ten the next morning for another round, just her and me, slow and delicious. God, was I the luckiest guy on earth or what?

Life went on. Carol was having no luck finding a position suited to her background and experience, but she wasn’t stressing over it as much. One of the job hunting seminars had shown statistics saying people have to search for a new job about a month for every $10,000 of salary they were making. By that measuring stick, Carol had plenty of time.