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Extreme BDSM Wife Trade, by Jezebel Rose

I was nervous. Scared, really. It sounded like such a great idea when the wealthy couples of Sycamore Street, my gated community in Southern California, agreed to swap spouses on a set schedule. Now, as I tried to sleep in my dark bedroom, I wondered what my husband, Adam, was doing next door with my best friend, Lily.

Lily was the one who first suggested the idea a couple of months ago. We were having lunch at an outdoor café in Santa Monica—Lily, Lauren, Jewel, and me. Like most recently married twentysomethings with young kids and busy lives, we had all spiced up our fantasy worlds by reading the hit bestsellers on BDSM and other kinky sex. We normally never discussed our sex lives in so much detail, but erotica was all over the news, so we couldn’t resist.

“I think it’s hot,” Lily said. “The idea of a man taking total control. Being aggressive. Having his way with me.”

“I think we all do,” I said. “But we already have that. We’re married. We technically belong to one man, so he’s always the one in control. You know, in the bedroom at least.”

We all laughed. Our husbands were successful professionals with impressive educations and impressive bank accounts, but they always followed our whims. The ladies of Sycamore Street wore the pants in our homes.

“Big deal, I get to decide where we go on vacation and what we watch on TV,” Lauren added. She was the ditzy blonde in our gang. A very sweet girl, but the youngest and most naïve of all of us. “I want to get my ass beaten up and fucked hard in the bedroom for once.”

We howled. It took Jewel everything she had to keep her drink in her mouth. She composed herself. “The problem is that we are nice girls. Moms,” Jewels said. “Our men are too afraid to get kinky or hurt our feelings by getting too rough and dirty. They’re afraid to admit what their fetishes might be. I certainly am, too.”

We all nodded in agreement. “I have an idea,” Lily said. “It’s crazy, but please hear me out.”

That’s how it started. The conversation turned intense, but no one protested Lily’s idea to swap husbands so that we could get the kinky, rough sex we wanted without fear of judgment from the fathers of our children. In fact, our biggest problem was agreeing how to recruit our husbands. We didn’t want to appear eager to cheat on them. We didn’t want to cheat on our men. We wanted to stay married but also wanted an erotic adventure.

Long story short, we do indeed wear the pants—all it took was several bottles of wine at the annual Sycamore Street couples Halloween party and we talked the husbands into swapping. Jewel was the most organized of our group, so she created a spreadsheet with a schedule of swapping and the game began.

Now I was in bed, on a Tuesday night, scared of what I began by agreeing to swap. I was lying to myself, though. I wasn’t scared as in Holy shit, my husband is going to leave me for my best friend, I was scared as in Holy shit, I’m about to get on a rollercoaster and it’s going to drop very, very fast and my head will get dizzy and I’ll be full of adrenaline. It reminded me of anticipating my first time ever having sex.

As much as I was eager for my turn to submit to another man, the thought of Adam overpowering Lily excited me. I imagined Adam driving his thick, hard cock into my best friend’s pussy. I knew how good it felt when he fucked me, and I was confident that he would send Lily into uncontrollable ecstasy. My man was an excellent lover, but I wondered how he would be after stripping away his gentle, sweet touch in the bedroom. What is Adam like when he’s unleashed? I wondered. The wonder ached in my pussy, too. I was drenched. I wasn’t wearing panties and could feel my vagina soak through my nightgown and onto the sheets.

I put my fingers over the folds of my pussy and rubbed the slick surface. My palm pressed against my clit as I stroked my wetness. Purposely, I did not penetrate myself; I was saving that for the next cock I would receive, which would be Brock’s tomorrow night.

Brock was Lily’s husband. He was handsome but very shy. In college, he was a star football player and his body fit that profile. Now he was a successful stock trader worth several million, but he didn’t show off. He was always reserved and lurking on the sidelines—a quiet math geek disguised as a sexy alpha male. As I worked my pussy toward climax, I pictured Brock’s naked body and his touch. I gushed and came in a wave of electricity.

I wanted to be awake when Adam came home, but I fell asleep shortly after pleasuring myself. In the middle of the night, Adam gently nudged me awake. I was barely coherent, but I was aware of the romantic kiss he gave me and the foreign scent of another woman on his skin. He must have devoured Lily’s pussy that night.

Asleep again, I dreamed of being a medieval criminal, arrested by the puritanical king for crimes of lust and temptation. A knight came to the dungeon to interrogate me. He wore a cold steel mask and nothing else. He did not let me speak. He fucked me until I could no longer stand. All I had to do was confess my guilt and I would be free. I refused. The knight had no choice. He used his lance of flesh—his Excalibur—to impale my tight, virgin cunt. I awoke the next morning wet and ready for my turn in the hubby swap.

Please purchase this story and support me as an author! Thank you! ~ Jezebel Rose

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