It's not that I dislike attending weddings. Under the right circumstances, the celebration serves as a reinforcement of the institution of marriage. I am usually reminded of our wedding, Shelby's and mine, just three years ago. It had been done on a shoestring budget and organized through a network of friends and relatives, as we had relocated to another state shortly after our engagement. Our service and reception, however modest, was the social event of that year within our social circle. An all-day and all-night party that ended at the local Marriott around dawn the next morning.

The reception we attended this day was held in one of the high-end banquet rooms at Ridgewood Country Club. Not one of the more affordable interior rooms... the "Grande Salon", with a wall of windows that looked out over the picturesque course, and a very well-stocked open bar furnished by the uncle of the bride. He was in transportation, I thought I had heard someone say. Whatever the industry, the family was definitely not counting pennies. We didn't know the couple well--the bride was Shelby's coworker from accounting. So we knew Michelle, plus a handful of faces we'd seen at holiday parties. Names I had forgotten shortly after introductions. Shelby wanted to make an appearance. The office was a small one and these events were socially "expected", if not specifically mandatory. Shelby was certainly "appearing"! She had on an amazing simple yellow sundress that fit her figure to a tee. Without any effort, Shelby drew admiring looks from several male guests as we made our way to our dining table. We were on the periphery of the room. That made it easy to drift toward the edges. We could fake the small talk for a few hours to keep the peace in her workplace, if that's what it took.

Kenny found us near the bar. Late twenties, early thirties? A few years older than us, it seemed. Kenny had an easy smile and an easier charm. The kind of guy who talks with his hands and remembers your name on the second try. He was a plus-one of a plus-one, same as us in the outsider sense. He ended up at our table with us after the toasts. Conversation stayed light: work, the music, how the bride's sister was already three drinks ahead of the rest of the room.

When the first slow song started, he asked Shelby to dance. I watched from the table. She laughed at something he said, one hand on his shoulder, the other held properly. As a pair, they interacted and moved as though they'd known each other for years -- nothing forced, nothing steamy, nothing over-the-top. They didn't grind. They didn't smolder. They didn't need to. Watching them with the slightest pang of jealousy, I wondered whether they seemed so natural because of her, or because of him... or was it them? They returned to our table laughing naturally together at something that didn't involve me. Another slight pang.

Garden-variety conversation continued. Kenny was in sales for a regional food distribution company. "Ground floor", he said, "but heading for the top!" I had no doubt he'd do it. Shelby seemed to watch him a little more intently than she had before they danced. I saw something in her eye... a gleam? She excused herself to freshen up. We both tracked her with our eyes as she left the room. After a few minutes, Kenny leaned towards me. "You two are very cool," he said, "thank you for letting me horn in on your evening." "Thanks, Kenny. We're enjoying the wedding more than I expected."

"I've got to ask," he continued, "and please forgive me if I am out of line..."

That seemed a bit ominous.

"Are you and Shelby swingers?"

That question came out and dropped with a thud.

An awkward "Uh... umm." Was all I could muster.

"It's just that you seem so at ease and... "confident" together. I'm sorry if I offended you." He said, still holding my gaze.

I paused.

In that pause, my fantasy flashed in my mind. The one that got me hard in an instant. The one that was front of mind nearly always of late. The one I told Shelby about only a few weeks before. The one where I'd said I wanted to watch her fuck another man, or at least hear about her fucking another man after she had done it. It was a newfound fantasy for me, and I was embarrassed to bring it to my young wife's attention. Fueling a part of this fantasy was the attention she drew EVERYWHERE - not just because of her outward beauty, but because she was just so damned likeable!

We hadn't done more than discuss the idea as a fantasy -- no guidelines, no safe words, no "in the event of 'x', we will do 'y' or 'z'". Just a fantasy. A fantasy she hadn't even agreed to try yet. One that now could have a name and face.

"No offense taken, Kenny. We've had some pillow talk. Nothing more."

"Okay, please forget I said anything." He responded. "We have been having a good time, and I didn't mean to put a damper on the night." He held out his hand to shake mine. "Fair enough." I said. We both turned our attention to the room's entrance just as Shelby was returning. We weren't the only ones to notice her. She glided gracefully through the room. I looked at Kenny, looking at Shelby. "She is incredible, isn't she?" He took a moment before his eyes moved from her. "You are a very lucky man." He said with a smile.

After Shelby returned to our table, Kenny took drink orders and headed to the bar. As good a time as ever, I thought.

"Kenny likes you." I tossed it out there casually.

Shelby looked at me as though she was measuring her response... "Yeah. He seems like a nice guy!"

"Nice guy?" I said. "He's practically on our Christmas card list already," I chuckled. Shelby only smiled.

I leaned in. "He 'LIKE', likes you." I said, looking into her eyes. "Remember what I told you about that one night? My fantasy?". Shelby looked away from me at nothing on the table. She remembered.

"Would Kenny be a candidate?" I asked.

Shelby paused.

"We never said we would..." she started. "I don't know if I could do that." Her voice lacked any conviction. "He doesn't want me like that." Even less conviction.

"He does want you like that. He told me."

Her eyes shot to mine. A bit more eager than before.

"He said that?"

"Well, that's not exactly how these things go, hun. But he made it clear. Besides, every man in this room has been imagining you without that dress on all night!"

Shelby bit her lower lip, deep in thought.

She'd gone quiet just like that when I brought it up in bed, too.

"So... Is Kenny a candidate?" I asked.

She didn't answer. She just looked at the dance floor, then at me, then picked up her drink. Her mouth formed the slightest embarrassed smile.

They danced again later. This time the song was faster. His hand sat lower on her back. When they returned to the table, she was flushed and smiling broader, in that specific way I recognized.

A few minutes passed. She leaned toward me and quietly asked for the keys to the van.

I handed them over. We locked eyes. Neither of us pretended we didn't understand. Shelby leaned forward and kissed me, passionately.

Seconds after we broke our kiss, she leaned toward Kenny and said something I couldn't hear. Then she stood, told both of us she needed air, and walked out.

Kenny stayed another four or five minutes, making small talk that neither of us was really following. Then he spoke. "Are you cool with this?"

"She wants you." I replied. Then he nodded at me, stood, and left.

I sat there for forty minutes. I drank water. I watched other people dance. I checked my phone twice and put it away both times.

When Kenny came back, he looked composed except for the color in his face. He set a hand on the back of my chair.

"She wants you to bring her a cold drink," he said. "The van."

I grabbed a bottle of water from the bar and walked out.

The conversion van was parked at the far end of the lot, away from the floodlights. The windows were fogged. When I opened the side door, the smell hit first--sex, sweat, her perfume mixed with something else.

Shelby was sitting on the bench seat in the back, dress hiked, panties gone, hair a mess. Her lipstick was smeared. She looked at me like she'd been waiting.

She pulled me in by the front of my shirt and kissed me deep, tongue first, no hesitation. I could taste him on her.

"Sit down. I'll tell you.

I almost didn't go theough with it, Monty. I walked out and just... paced. That little sidewalk between the clubhouse and the lot. Heart going so hard I could feel it in my throat. I kept thinking, you can still turn around. You can go back in and sit down and this stays a fantasy. Then the door opened and Kenny came out like he already knew I wouldn't.

That did it. I put my hands out and he took them and kissed me like we'd been waiting years. I forgot where we were for a second. Then I remembered anyone could walk out for a cigarette and I pulled him around to the passenger side of the van, out of the lights.

He grabbed my ass and pulled me against him and I felt him. Thicker. Different. I made this stupid little sound into his mouth and rubbed him through his pants because I couldn't not. His hand went under my dress and I was already so wet it was embarrassing. Two fingers, easy. My knees actually went. I told him we needed to get inside.

I dropped the keys. Hands shaking. He picked them up and asked if I was sure. I said open the door and I'll show you.

Once the door shut it was just us and that van smell and my dress coming down. He had my nipples in his mouth and I had his belt open and then I was on my knees in that middle seat with his cock in my hand. I couldn't close my fingers all the way around it. I licked the head and there was already that taste--his, not yours--and I took as much as I could. Gagged a little when it hit my throat. Laughed because it was ridiculous and I still wanted more. I kept looking up at him while I did it. I wanted him to see that I knew exactly what I was doing.

Then I needed him in me. I bent over the back bench, dress up, panties off. He rubbed the head through me twice and again, I had that slight hesitation. "You haven't gone too far yet.". Then he pushed in and I made this noise I don't think I've ever made with you, and hesitation all fell away. His cock was... a lot. I had to breathe through the first few strokes. Then I heard myself say fuck me hard, Kenny, like it was someone else talking.

He did. The van was moving. Windows fogged. I came the first time with my face in the seat back and I could smell myself and him and it just made it worse. I flipped onto my back because I wanted to see him. I put him back in. Told him deeper, harder, just like that--I was past being quiet. Came again and it was ugly, that second one. Sounds I didn't recognize. Then he started moving faster and I knew he was getting close to coming.

He asked where I wanted it.

I said inside. Fill me. I said it too fast. I didn't even think until it was already happening. He kept moving through it and I felt him empty into me and then he just... stayed. We were both shaking.

I laughed first. That stupid satisfied sound. Kissed him again because I didn't know what else to do with my mouth.

Then I saw my ring.

That was it. Everything came back at once. You sitting inside. Our wedding. What we'd actually just done. I pushed up and he slipped out of me and I felt it start to run and I told him to get dressed, I needed you, I needed my husband here.

He asked if I was okay. I said I would be. First-time remorse, I guess. New territory. I just needed to know you were okay. I thanked him. Told him it was a really great fuck. It was. Then I asked him to get you and bring me a drink.

That's when he left. I was still trying to fix my dress when you opened the door."

She told me all this, looking at me the whole time.

I pushed her dress higher, got between her legs, and fucked her used pussy while she kept talking in fragments--how full she'd felt, how she'd clenched when he finished, how she'd thought about me sitting inside the whole time. She was wet and loose and still twitching. I came hard and stayed in her afterward, forehead against hers.

We talked in the quiet that followed.

She said it hadn't felt like cheating in the moment because I'd handed her the keys knowing. She also said it had felt like cheating in the best possible way, and that she wasn't sure which part she liked more. We set some rules while her legs were still around me: she tells me first if something like this starts again. I get to decide how much I want to see versus hear. No one stays the night. She doesn't come home smelling like someone else without warning me. Condoms unless we both agree otherwise in the moment, which we hadn't this time.

She reached into the little pocket of her dress and pulled out a business card. Kenny's name, a cell number, a company I didn't recognize.

"If we want to invite him again," she said. "I like him!"

I took the card, looked at it, and put it in my own pocket.

We fixed her dress as best we could. She drank the water. We walked back into the reception like we'd just needed air.

The DJ was playing something forgettable. Kenny was at the bar talking to someone else. He glanced over once. Shelby didn't look away.