Monogamish - His Hall Pass

This is the sixth part of a series that starts with Monogamish--The Courtship. It comes after(ish) The Seven-Year Itch. The next story will be Realizing her MILFdom. I hope you will enjoy it. If you finish this installment, you know the drill: vote, favorite, and especially comment, please. All the time-wasting BS you hear at the start of every YouTube video...

As always, I aspire to make my stories merely plausibly ridiculous, or maybe ridiculously plausible. Either way, this ain't real life, so don't lecture me on realism. It is also total fiction and I could only wish I was Todd, so don't be one of those people on Literotica who thinks every story is auto-biographical and start telling me that Amy and I "are doomed..." I just hope that, given these two highly-improbable characters, you will feel like the ride makes some semblance of sense.

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MONOGAMISH -- His Hall Pass

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Well, that had been an interesting fight. I had been accused of being predictable. I may have not liked that but was nonetheless worried it might be true. I had counter-accused Amy of becoming predictable as well, which she took much better than I would have expected from my sometimes fiery wife.

Yes, we do fight sometimes, just like any married couple. But we seldom fight for long because we are both quite committed to fixing whatever there might be that upsets the other. If we can manage to teach that knack to our sons, we will have gotten 90% of the way to being successful parents.

This particular tiff had shaken out reasonably well, I thought. We had recognized a budding problem early, and both were on board that it needed fixing before it marred our relationship. Our solution... Amy's solution, which I had eventually bought into, was that I needed to take a Hall Pass--to find and comprehensively fuck someone else to get me out of my rut. I agreed to it only after she broke down and agreed to have a Hall Pass too. I was not going to be the only one to take one for the team.

I see you rolling your eyes. A husband practically being ordered to go have some extracurricular fun is not supposed to be grumpy about it, right? The thing was, Amy and I were very, very good at monogamy. We both felt it was the right and natural thing for a marriage. And damn it, for me at least, it was easy.

My wife is hot. Spectacularly hot. At 28, with two kids, she is more perfect than when we had married seven years before--not just in my eyes either. I see the faces of the men we come across on any given day. I also don't meet a lot of women about whom the idea even enters my head that, gee, it might be interesting to fuck her today, instead of my wife. And if such a speculation does enter my head, it dies there quickly, as the utter balderdash it is.

Don't get me wrong, I am a guy. I am in no way saying that I never meet any women who would be interesting to fuck. I just always would

rather

fuck Amy. Both of us had fucked many other people, before and after we started fucking each other, all before we became engaged. I knew what I was doing, and how much fun I could have doing it.

I was not being asked to make a terrible sacrifice.

But it would be a pain in the ass. How was I to actually do this?

After I had fucked the best lay in the world again, as celebration of ending another argument, we stayed up late, wrangling about those nuts and bolts--how to do this... for both of us.

"I keep coming back to where I am supposed to find this posited Hot Refresher Course I'm supposed to seduce," I said, idly toying with Amy's nipple.

"You work in a company full of young women," she snorted. "You love telling me about how often you get hit on. Who is there right now who is trying to steal you away from me?"

"No one is currently trying to steal me away from you," I said. It wasn't meant to reassure, because Amy didn't need reassurance on that front. She never needed it. "There are one or two married ones who have recently made it clear they are open to some extracurriculars," I added with a shrug.

"Then there you go!"

"No! No way. I am not nailing anyone at work, and neither should you," I said firmly. "It is grody, and if word gets out, you at least would have a line outside your office all the damned time. This is a Hall Pass, not a new lifestyle."

"Good point," Amy replied. "I think we should say it needs to be a stranger. I'd rather you not fuck any of my friends either, for instance. Though God knows I have plenty who would fall on that grenade."

I suckled on the breast I'd been teasing for a minute, considering that I had any number of friends myself who would happily bang my wife for me. Ha! "Just go with escorts?" I asked doubtfully, when I came up for air. There had just been the one time, for each of us, the week before our wedding, where each of us had employed hired help. But that had been the point at the time.

"Too much like cheating," Amy replied. I nodded. She meant cheating as in cheating at a game, not cheating on a spouse, though we were morally opposed to both. But it was already clear that this was going to be a game for us, so it had to be fair.

We fell asleep still discussing it, and I woke her in the morning with my face between her silky smooth legs.

Two days later, with no good solutions yet, I came home from work to find Amy already home, happily cooking dinner.

"I have an idea," I announced.

"On how to find your Hall Pass? Excellent," she said, kissing me on the cheek.

"No. On how to find out how to find my Hall Pass."

"That is less excellent, but it is a start, Mister Reluctant."

"I'm Mister Clueless, thank you, no longer reluctant by this point," I snorted tartly. "I think I know who to ask for ideas."

"So have you asked him?"

"It is a her, and you are going to ask her."

"You are losing me here."

"I want you to ask Penny what her methods are for looking for guys," I said smugly. Penny was a moderately attractive, quite married friend of ours. More of a member of the same social circle, to be accurate. It is hard for me to be friends with either member of a couple when the wife has hit on me several times. I had tried to be clueless the first few times, but the last one I had found myself alone with her in the Wilson's kitchen, and she had outright flashed her tits at me. I took a good look. They were not bad at all, still pretty full despite her being in her mid forties, with interestingly mauve aureoles.

"Going to do something about these?" she had asked coquettishly.

"Penny, no. Not about those, or any other part of your body. Feel free to flash me all you want, please. They are a joy to look at. But I'm Amy's and no one else's."

"I'm not trying to take you. I'm just looking to borrow," she had said. I had just shook my head and moved out of the room. I of course told Amy that night. We often had particularly good sex after talking about someone trying to get one or the other of us to stray, but that wasn't the reason we always reported it. We were smug.

"She's going to think I am planning on cheating on you, and then use that to come after you again," she said now, at my suggestion.

"Let her," I shrugged. "I wouldn't mind another look at those boobs." Amy snorted. "Or tell her, I dunno, that we want to try some role-playing between the two of us, or some shit. Read the room."

It took three days before Amy could engineer a 'chance encounter' with Penny. She came home after, and slammed a whole pineapple on the couch next to me. "The grocery store," was all she said.

I raised an eyebrow.

I was now assigned to do all the grocery shopping for a while. Not a hardship. I do half of it regularly anyway, depending on when one or the other of us is out of town. But suddenly, I was doing it frequently, spending plenty of time there, while buying relatively little. Thursdays were especially good, as our boys had after-school computer camp, where they were learning to create video games. They would not come home until Amy picked them up at seven. I started abusing my flex-time at work, taking time off during the day and working late at night. Nobody objected, as we always need people around the office late in the evening. The world is a 24-hour place.

I found in less than two weeks, that the store was most crowded on certain days, and that was when I went. I always discussed the times with Amy, so that she could make sure the kids weren't home after school, especially if I was planning on 'shopping' later in the day.

I focused on a couple of supermarkets that were not near our house. I did not want to ensnare or be ensnared by a neighbor, or by anyone either of us knew. I definitely did not want to be observed by a neighbor while ensnaring someone else.

I grabbed a cart as the doors whooshed aside for me. I entered the big store and headed straight for the produce section. I liked this store because its customer demographics matched my own, same basic age and income, and because it had a genuinely good produce section, the plentiful pineapples aside. It is not always easy to find a produce department that reliably has passionfruit, kiwi, and even dragonfruit in season.

I grabbed two nice, pink dragonfruits and a beautiful pineapple, and put said fruit right side up in the upper basket of my cart. Then I went browsing, looking for two things, attractive women, and pineapples in those women's carts. My intent was, if I saw both, I would mess about in my cart and casually turn my pineapple upside down, then put myself in her line of sight.

Yes, the upside down pineapple is a thing. For real. Just actually start paying attention at the right times of day, and you will eventually see them. It is not like you will see a lot of them, but it is surprising.

So far, now that I felt I was in the rhythm of things, I had seen five women with inverted fruits in their cart. Three of them were hard nos for me, just from afar, and I never turned my pineapple over, or otherwise approached them. Let us be clear. I have an ethereally hot wife, and I was only doing this to be able to sex her up even better. That said, there was no way I was going to go out and take a Hall Pass with anyone less than a serious babe. I definitely intended to enjoy myself, because sex is for enjoying. And those three women were not what I was looking for.

The fourth had seemed to be genuinely clueless about the signal, her fruit was really as much on its side as upside down. That had been a real shame. She was a youthful redhead with an athletic body and the cutest nose.

The fifth? She was hot. A blonde with reasonably sized but still possibly fake boobs. She had a narrow waist and a tasty ass displayed in fuchsia-trimmed black yoga pants.

I had flipped my pineapple and pulled up beside her in the meat case, parking my cart so that the pineapple was right next to her, then I poked about in the ground beef section. As I had approached, I had seen that her left hand had a ring, but it was copper, and in the kind of clumsily ornate styling that made me guess it was something she bought at a ren faire or the like.

I did not care whether the women I put myself forward near were married or not. Either had their advantages, and I was crass enough to be willing to take advantage of either. But I had discussed this with Amy, and we both felt that while we might make ourselves available, a married person was absolutely going to have to come on to us. I was not going to make a first move here.

A married woman 'pineapple shopping' was already looking to get laid by someone outside of her marriage. And she could have all sorts of reasons. Her husband could be a douche, or incapable. They could be breaking up. He could be a pervert who liked to be cucked. She could just be a cheating, cheating bitch. All those were fine by me, mostly. In some ways that last would be best. She would be no more interested in anything other than sex than I was. But what if a married woman was teetering on the edge, hovering her bare toes over the water hesitantly... I was not going to be the guy to lure her down in. Unless she asked.

Regardless, this was not an issue here. Whatever that jewelry was that this babe was wearing, it wasn't a wedding ring.

I needed three pounds of ground round that day, because I was going to make a batch of taco meat to last us a few dinners. You can do a lot of different things with good taco meat.

"What do you use for your hamburgers?" The woman asked me. Perfect.

"Sirloin is too lean for burgers," I said, straightening and smiling before I turned, showing that I already given her a good look and knew she was the kind of woman men smiled at when she spoke to them. And I looked at her some more. Openly. "So I use ground round. But this batch is for taco meat, so I'll do a blend with this and a little chuck I have left over at home."

She looked at me too. And smiled. But then I saw the exact moment she saw my ring finger. I had quite deliberately chosen to keep my wedding ring on.

Our moment died. I had not been in

her

parameters. Fair dues. She headed off for the seafood counter, and I went toward frozen food... after a long look at her ass in those yoga pants. A regretful look, I realized.

When I got home, I texted Amy.

ME:

Had a nibble, but only came home with groceries. You and boys have no need to stay out late

After getting the automated response that Amy was driving, I got started on making up the batch of taco meat. Fifteen minutes later...

AMY:

Boys will be most disappointed. If I had not heard from you by five, I was going to take them to McDonalds

ME:

Sux to be them...

They got home almost an hour later. Both boys had empty red fry cartons to throw away, regardless of my messages. I looked at Amy, and she shrugged. She had tipped her hand too soon apparently, and the boys could not be put off of a promised McDonald's run. When you are six and five, 'we might' is an iron-clad promise.

Our little bottomless pits were still more than up for tacos.

After dinner, as Amy and I did the dishes, and the boys allegedly were cleaning up the toys in their room--a Sisyphean task, even when they were actually trying, Amy asked, "So you had a near one today? That's good. A near miss is a near hit."

"The whole process is frustrating," I replied. "It is a little embarrassing, and a lot annoying. And moderately pointless when I have you in my life anyway."

Amy looked around before grabbing my ass with her soapy hand. "Washing the car is pointless too. More so, because you always have to do that again in just a couple of weeks. But we wash them anyway. And you need a Simonization, my hot rod!"

I did not want to mention all the mixed signals I was receiving around this idea, so I just grumbled. None of them worried me, I just wanted a clear direction.

"How about after we get the boys down, we just head straight to bed and do some naked Netflix watching?" Amy asked.

I imagine I brightened visibly. "I can get into that," I purred.

"Good. Then later, you can get into me," she purred back.

After we had gotten into everything, we lay back as the credits rolled, in more ways than one. "You are way more frustrated after today's trip than you ever have been before. Seems like it was more than just a near miss. Tell me," she almost giggled, "just how hot was this single go-getter who's fishing for something serious instead of a nice, safe fuck with a married guy?"

I looked at her sourly. "Sniffing around the foothills of your heights," I said.

"That hot?" she laughed, flattered.

"That fucking hot," I replied with complete honesty.

Shopping expeditions had to wait for a while, as first I, then Amy, had trips out of town that meant no shopping, and I was responsible for the kids when I was home.

When she was driving me to the airport for my trip, Amy said idly, weaving in and out of traffic politely, "You are going to New York. You might have a chance there to short-circuit this whole process. I hear there are one or two desirable women in that city..."

"Nah," I said, finding that I meant it. "To be honest, I've invested so much thought and effort into this pineapple thing, I feel like I've got to see it through, come hell or high water."

After Amy got back from Chicago, we had a chance to get together with our friends James and Darlene. We were that kind of Parent Couples. We both had boys in the same grades, James and Darlene were only a few years older than us, we had enough interests in common to make hanging out more than tolerable. On this occasion, the kids had all had a chance to go to a slumber party at the science museum, and we had eagerly signed them up. Once the munchkins were dropped off, we had all gone off to have dinner at whichever Houligan Tuesdays was close by.

We had a good time. We all told a few non-revealing stories about ourselves, had a responsible number of drinks, and Darlene and I argued about college basketball. James tried to get involved, but we just told him his team sucked. He reminded us that his team led his conference, and was picked to win it. We reminded him that his whole conference sucked.

It was a decent evening, leaving us feeling like grownups, which is a non-trivial accomplishment when you have little kids.

As Amy and I were driving home, Amy mentioned, "It is too bad we took people we know off the table. Darlene would do you any day and twice on Sundays."

"Tomorrow is Sunday."

"Exactly."

"Yeah? I can say with absolute certainty, James would likewise happily drink your bathwater."

She laughed. "Yeah, but it is not my birthday right now."

"It will be," I said slowly.

We drove for almost half a mile. They were both very attractive...

"Yeah... no," I said languidly. "I like monogamy too much. And swinging is the exact opposite."

"I agree," Amy said. Then, in her Devil's Advocate voice, she added, "but I thought we had declared ourselves monogam

ish

?"

"Exactly. But swinging is not monogamish, it's polygamous. And it is just icky."

"That's my guy," Amy smiled.

"And besides, swinging would be a mook's game for me, in particular, to play," I added.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Trading wives is idiotic. James may have a Corvette in Darlene. But I have a Ferrari Portofino. Who the fuck rationally makes that trade, even for a night?"

"I am going to drain you dry tonight."

*

Thursday was my next expedition. The boys had computer camp, and I was able to bail on the office early, due to some paying forward, at lunchtime. I had a lettuce wrap at Jimmy John's, and texted Amy, who was traveling again, that I was going 'shopping'.

AMY:

Get half and half

AMY:

and a head of fresh broccoli

I hit the store just after one. It seemed a little early, but Thursdays had always seemed good, and if I was successful, the boys were at computer camp until late. I thought it worth a whirl, especially since I needed several things beyond broccoli and half and half.

Other than yielding a particularly nice pineapple and the broccoli, the produce department was a bust. Cute women, but no pineapples. I even went so far as to put my own fruit upside down proactively, then trolled around one that appealed just enough, but no dice. I think I even got a disapproving glare. That was kind of fun.

Meat department was ditto.

I shifted mostly into actual shopping mode, and went down the International Foods aisle. I was examining seasonings for chicken, when I heard a voice. "It's funny," the rather musical voice said. "I never cook that dish, but the seasoning is great in a carbonara."

I turned to see another redhead. Nice. Almost as nice as the one that got away. Nicer, in some respects. Almost as tall as I, and with the barest hint of an expensive, fabulous olfactory aura. Not a scent, and not even an aroma. An aura.