Match Day Hotwife. He Lets His Pub Mates Share His Wife (en Inglés) - Chris P. Rider

NOTE: Previously published in an earlier edition by Chris P. Rider under ASIN: B0GM85SXLY. This revised edition has been retitled with completely revised & edited content and cover.

I just wanted to fit in with the lads at the pub. Five years drinking at The Gooner's Arms on Fortess Road, and I was still the quiet one, the hanger-on, tolerated but never truly one of them. So when Mason suggested I bring Holly down for the big North London derby, I thought maybe this was my chance. Show them I had a fit wife, have a laugh, be part of the crew for once. What could go wrong?

Turns out, everything. And nothing. Because the second Holly walked through that door in her tight footy shirt and short skirt, the dynamic shifted. Mason's hands on her waist. Jay filming everything. Robbo watching with those dark, hungry eyes. And me? I just sat there, frozen, watching it escalate from harmless banter to something I couldn't stop. Didn't want to stop, if I'm honest.

The bets started small. Flash your bra for luck. Sit on Mason's lap if we keep a clean sheet. But match day after match day, the stakes grew higher, the boundaries thinner, until there were no boundaries left at all. Holly wasn't just my wife anymore - she was theirs; their lucky charm, their match day ritual. And I was the bloke who made it happen.

I should've been furious. Should've dragged her out, told them all to do one. But every time Mason's hand slid under her skirt, every time she moaned a name that wasn't mine, my body betrayed me. I was harder than I'd ever been. And Holly? She was alive in a way I'd never seen. Screaming, begging, doing things she'd never done with me, whilst I sat in the corner, leaking into my jeans, knowing I'd never satisfy her the way they could.

Now it's not just pub days. It's Champions League nights at Mason's flat. It's group chats I'm barely part of. It's me on my knees, cleaning up their mess whilst Holly smiles down at me and calls me a good boy. And the worst part? I've never been happier. Neither has she. Turns out, some mistakes are exactly what you need.