Mary and Wayne sat in silence in the lounge as they watched Wayne’s wife Wendy leave for her date with Mary’s husband Mike. Strictly speaking, it was not a date, as it had been agreed that Mike would not touch Wendy. However, it was understood that Wendy would get plenty of attention from strangers on the date.

Mary was starting to regret having dressed quite so provocatively; she could see it was making Wayne uncomfortable. Wayne was wearing a pair of track pants and an old tee shirt; he was not dressed for guests at all. The awkward silence seemed to last forever until Wayne stirred and asked Mary if she had eaten.

The evening had been a rush of decisions and preparations. Mary realised she and Mike had skipped eating.

“No, we didn’t have time as Mike was late home. Did you eat?”

“No, Wendy was fizzing around the place all excited, and I had no idea what was going on.”

“I’m happy to go and …” Mary realised Mike had taken their car as she began to offer.

“Do you like fish? We were going to have fish. I’m going to cook for myself anyway.”

Mary nodded, and Wayne headed to the kitchen, saying something over his shoulder that she did not catch. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that,” she said, entering the kitchen.

“I wondered if you wanted a glass of wine while I cook.”

Mary nodded and pulled out two glasses, while Wayne handed her a chilled bottle of Sauvignon Blanc. She poured the wine, and they clinked glasses. Mary leaned back against the worktop and watched Wayne pull ingredients out onto the island in front of her. He laid a pair of fresh fish on a board and asked, "Mackerel, OK for you?”

“Oh, sorry, I’m not keen on them. Too many fiddly bones; you go ahead, don’t mind me.”

“There won’t be any bones, trust me. Honestly, no bones.”

For the next forty-five minutes, Mary thought she could have been watching a cooking program on TV. Wayne neatly gutted the fish and removed the head and tail. Mary felt queasy when a fish looked at her from the plate. He filleted and then sliced out the pin bones, running his fingers over the fish to be sure. “No bones,” he repeated.

He put a heavy frying pan on the hob and fried garlic croutons, roughly cut from a slice of bread, in a foaming sea of butter. The kitchen smelled wonderful. Wayne pan-fried the fish while assembling a green salad and dressing. He laid up a plate each with the fish on top of the salad, dressing, and croutons; it looked and smelled delicious. “Grab knives and forks,” Wayne said as he carried the plates to the table.

Mary took a few tentative bites of the fish; it was better than delicious and totally bone-free. The whole meal was perfect, and she soon cleared the plate. As she ate, Mary found herself looking at Wayne in a completely different way. She had always found him quiet, not shy but not overly confident, preferring to stay in the background. She found the confidence and skill he had just demonstrated in the kitchen sexy and attractive. Mike never cooked for her, though he would BBQ as long as she had prepared the meat, marinade, salad, and sides. Mike would generally moan through the whole process as well, and it was fifty-fifty between cooked and cremated too.

“Where did you learn to cook like that?”

“I’ve always enjoyed cooking. I wanted to go to a catering college, but by then we were buying this place and needed my wages. Did you manage to find a bone?”

Mary laughed and shook her head. “That was one of the best fish dishes. I never order mackerel, but that was just superb.” She could feel herself gushing, and she blamed the bottle of wine they had finished between them.

“What do you think Wendy is up to now? Where do you think she is?”

The sudden change of subject from Wayne surprised Mary. The clock said it was just coming up to 9:30, and it was dark outside. Mary suggested they clear the table and tidy up, and she promised to relay to him how her evening had gone. It didn’t take long to clean up and load the dishwasher. Wayne opened another bottle as they settled side by side on a sofa in the lounge.

“They have been gone for over an hour and a half, and it has gone dark. When Mike took me, I think we would have gotten to the layby about now.”

“Mike said that you went to a pub first and flirted with some men; do you think Wendy has been flirting?”

Wayne seemed overly keen to talk about it and kept shifting positions; he looked uncomfortable.

“Mike would have made her go to the bar on her own. I felt a few hands touching my bum and brushing my body, as it was very crowded. I would guess she has had a few hands touching her and a few whispered comments too.”

“Where would she be touched? Would she encourage them? Would she talk to them?”

Mary could see Wayne was only interested in what Wendy might be doing and not as keen to hear about her own experiences.

“Would she have asked any men to follow them to the layby?”

Mary glanced down to consider her answer. She did not want to upset Wayne, as she sensed the conversation was somehow off or taking an unexpected direction. From the corner of her eye, she saw Wayne had one hand in his lap.

“One man followed me out of the pub, but nothing …”

Wayne cut her off as he asked, “Do you think Wendy would want men to follow her?”

Mary decided to play into his question and gauge his reaction. "Yes, Wendy would want men to follow her, and she probably asked any that she liked to join them.”

Wayne leaned towards her slightly, as if eager to hear more. “What did Wendy say to them?”

Mary could see how Wayne had reacted to her last comment and that he was eager to hear more. Mary had no idea if anything had been said and thought it unlikely that words would have been exchanged. She decided to push in the direction that Wayne seemed surprisingly keen to follow.

“Wendy told them that she needed a good fucking.” Mary saw Wayne’s hand press into his lap and wondered if he was covering an erection. “She said she needed to be fucked and would take on all comers.”

Wayne was leaning even closer to Mary, hanging on to her every word, like a child listening to a favourite bedtime story.

“What is happening now at the layby?”

Mary guessed that Wayne had jumped forward to the layby to get to the action. She had no idea what was happening, except that Wendy had told her she was keen. Mary could also remember how wild Wendy was years ago, once she was in the mood.

“Mike has told her to strip to her underwear and stand by the car in the dark.” Mary looked down as she took a sip of her wine. Wayne’s hand was moving slowly in his lap.

“There is a small group of men gathered around Wendy. Mike has stayed in the car and is just watching. Wendy is telling the men she wants—no—needs to be fucked and fulfilled because her man does not satisfy her.”

Mary watched Wayne squeezing and rubbing his cock quite openly now in response to her words.

“Wendy is taking off her bra and handing it to the nearest man. Hands grab and cover her firm tits, and they feel her nipples hard and proud. Hands are roaming all over her trim body, with fingers sliding inside her knickers.”

“What is Wendy saying?”

Mary realised they were somehow playing out a fantasy for Wayne and that Wendy probably had no idea how he was feeling about her evening out. “She is asking what the men want to do to her.”

Wayne’s hand stopped moving, and a frown flashed across his face.

Mary rethought her approach and quickly said, “Wendy is telling the men to use her, telling them she needs to be filled with their cum.”

Wayne’s hand was gripping his cock again while his face smiled in eager anticipation.

“One of the men has pushed Wendy down to her knees, and she is sucking his cock while she has her hands on two more cocks.”

“What are they like, the other men’s cocks?”

“They are big, and Wendy is wanking and sucking them as if they are the last cocks she will ever see. The one she is sucking is holding her head as he is cumming in her mouth; there is so much cum, more than she can swallow.”

Mary had an urge to slide her hand inside Wayne’s track pants. His cock was obviously hard as he gripped and stroked it through the material. She wondered if they would have time for a fuck before Mike and Wendy got home. Mary was not as turned on by the fantasy she was telling as Wayne, but she was enjoying it in her own way.

“Wendy is lying back on the bonnet of the car; she is telling the men they must fuck her now and cum inside her. She is telling the men she is a slut.”

Wayne moved his hand inside his track pants and stroked his cock under the material.

“The men are lined up, with their hard cocks in hand. Five men are waiting for their turn. They are fucking Wendy hard and fast; their cocks are stretching her, and she is urging them to go faster.”

“Where are they cumming?”

“Wendy is making them cum inside her; one after the other, she is stretched and overflowing with cum.”

Mary looked at the clock and saw that it was already approaching half past eleven. She was amazed at how quickly time had passed.

“Wendy has thanked all of the men and has pulled her knickers back on over her cum-filled pussy. She can’t find her bra, and Mike is driving her home with the rest of her clothes in her hand.”

Wayne was stroking his cock with his eyes closed as he listened to all the details Mary was making up for him. Mary offered to help, but he said he must wait for Wendy. Mary felt oddly uncomfortable sitting next to Wayne, who seemed lost in a fantasy fuelled by the story Mary had been spinning to him. She took the half-full bottle and put it back in the fridge. She paused in the lounge doorway to watch Wayne still sitting with his eyes closed and a hand down his track pants.

Mary’s phone pinged with Mike's message, saying they would be home in a few minutes. Mary told Wayne, who immediately sat and composed himself; moments later, the doorbell rang. Wayne hurried past Mary and let Wendy and Mike inside. Mary turned to watch the pair enter the house. Wendy was wearing the same outfit she had left in, but now she looked very dishevelled. Her hair was unkempt and looked matted on one side. Mary and Wendy locked eyes for a brief moment, and Mary saw a look in her friend that she had not seen for many years.

“Upstairs you,” Wendy told Wayne; it sounded like a command rather than a request. “Can you let yourselves out?” she added to Mike and Mary.

“Thank you, Mike, for a memorable evening,” Wendy called, already on her way upstairs. “Did you feed Mary?” Mary heard Wayne say something in answer to her question. The last thing Mary heard Wendy say was, “It’s a good job you like fish; you have a lot of little swimmers to eat tonight.”

Outside in the car, Mary faced Mike and asked, “So how did it go? Tell me everything. I have something very strange to tell you afterwards.”

“Wendy is a bloody animal. I can’t believe what she has done this evening. They say it is always the quiet ones, but that was another level.”