Surrogate Wives Club Ch. 01

This story is a work of fiction that does describe a lot of sleeping around with other partners. It is written purely for the entertainment and possible sexual enjoyment of the readers. Use it as you require. But rest assured that no real-life marriages were hurt in the writing of this story.

I dedicate this story to my beautiful friend, Charlotte Blue, I hope your life is happy.

Chapter One

I'm a happily married guy -- a family guy, two kids, living in the burbs. Quite content with my lot, I love my wife, I adore my kids, I'm proud of the home environment I've created for them. It's a good neighbourhood in which to raise a family. The demographers would refer to our suburb as middle class with the per capita average income running at around $100,000 per year. I am a marketing manager for a large multi-national company and my wife works too. Our kids are now 9 and 11 so becoming nearly old enough to look after themselves after school, but thankfully since my wife is a kindergarten teacher she gets home for them every day.

I am guessing that you're here now reading this because you're curious about the title, Surrogate Wives Club. I would be too if I came upon a story with that title, that is if I hadn't already been initiated as a participating member 6 months ago. Boy, what a life-changer that turned out to be.

I said that we live in a good neighbourhood and that's so true. We've made some really good friends since moving here about 5 years ago and it's amazing how everybody helps each other out. If you need a plumber or a sparkie (electrician) then you'll find that someone in your circle of friends either is one or has a brother-in-law who is.

One of our good neighbours and a friend -- used to be at all the dinner parties in our circle -- was Wally Brown, great guy, would give you the shirt off his back. Well damn if Wally didn't have a heart attack at 45, died before they could get him to hospital. Of course, we all went to Wally's funeral. Took time off work, the chapel at the crematorium was packed. A couple of us car-pooled, my wife Becky and I took Peter and Pauline Adams in our car.

The funeral service was fortunately early in the day for those that needed to get to work afterward. The four of us stayed for the wake that followed immediately after the service but still managed to get out of there by noon.

"So what's everybody doing?" I enquired as we all buckled up and I started to drive out of the expansive grounds of the crematorium. "Becky honey, I know you're heading back to school."

"Yes Brad, they couldn't get a replacement for me at short notice so I told them I'd at least get there for the after-lunch classes."

"Peter, how about you?" I asked, looking into the rear-view mirror to check on my back-seat passengers.

"Brad, can you drop me off at the nearest train station, I've got a mountain of work, I can't afford to miss a whole day."

"Ok, train station it is ... how about you Pauline?"

"I don't work these days so take me anywhere that's convenient."

"Yes I know, Pete told me, redundancy wasn't it?"

"Yes, with a healthy pay-out Brad."

"How is it having a life of leisure?"

"Oh it's wonderful, I can do whatever I want whenever I feel like it. Probably won't last, I promised Pete I'd get another job, but I can take my time about it, there's no great financial pressure at the moment."

"That's good! Well, I can probably drop you back in our neighbourhood, I managed to bring some paperwork home. Our office is way across town and the drive is really agonising, particularly if I'm only going to get there for 2 or 3 hours. It's handy I can be flexible like that."

"Oh isn't that wonderful, sort of like being your own boss."

"Yes I guess it is, so anyway, since I'm heading back to our neighbourhood, I can either drop you at the local Mall if you want to do any shopping or drop you off home otherwise."

"Oh, either would be great, thanks Brad."

We settled in for the longish drive, the topic of conversation was how well Wally's funeral service was conducted and how shocking it was that he died so young and how we were all going to miss him from our group. Twenty minutes elapsed before I dropped Peter at the closest train station so he could head off to his job in the City. Another ten minutes more with the three of us (Becky, Pauline and I) in the car. We had all exhausted the permanency of death line of conversation and Pauline had cleverly got my Becky talking about the kids she teaches. Works every time, Beck adores them and always has a funny story or two about the things they say and the things they do.

I stopped the car at the school gates and my wife leaned over and planted a nice kiss on my lips, strangely seeming to linger a moment longer than she normally would. "Umm!" I mumbled as our lips parted, "that was nice."

"See you tonight darling, be good." Becky had the car door open and her feet on the ground outside before she turned her head toward the back seat and added -- almost like an afterthought -- "Good to see you Pauline, enjoy that leisure time, we're all insanely jealous of you."

"Yes, I'll bet," came from the back.

I watched my beloved wife Becky hurry off into the school grounds and I turned to my one remaining back-seat passenger, "So are you going to move up front or should I drive you around like a chauffeur?"

"Or you could always come back here, there's lots of room," she answered strangely, leaving a pregnant pause, "but you'd have to move the car, not a good look to have a man and a woman together on the back seat while parked here outside the school."

I was thinking what an odd thing it was for Pauline to say when I heard her opening the back door and she around to the front passenger door, sliding smoothly onto the front seat. I need to explain a couple of things, mainly to provide an image of this woman who slid smoothly alongside me into the front of my car. Smoothly is the way Pauline does everything. Well, everything that I'm aware of.

Looking awkward would never be in her vocabulary. She is a gorgeous woman, in her late thirties and really looks after herself. She and Peter are gym junkies, they work out several times a week. I don't know how they have time for it because they're raising kids too. So she has a great figure and flaming red hair that is most appealing. I must be a bit of a fan of redheads, I like the actresses Julianne Moore and Emma Stone. Pauline was probably the first of the other women in our new circle of friends that I noticed when we moved into this area 5 years ago.

I wondered if she'd ever been a model. Possibly not, she's too curvy for that. But she kind of moves sensually, so when I say she slid smoothly into the front seat of my car, you can imagine that there was nothing awkward about that. Appropriately attired for the mourning that a funeral dictates, she was in a little black dress. As with just about everything I had seen her in, little was the applicable word for this dress ... and it was tight.

The dress had ridden up high on her thighs as her legs parted to get into the car, her lead leg planting on the floor of the car before her trailing leg left the kerb. Some women plonk their arse down onto the car seat and seem to swing both legs in at the same time -- that's how my wife does it so as not to show too much leg. But not Pauline, and yet, as I say, it still looked smooth and free-flowing even though any passer-by on the footpath at that moment would have got a great eyeful all the way to the top of those long legs.

So as I put the car back into gear and released the hand brake, I stole a glance across to check out her legs ... surreptitiously I hoped, although my late father always told me that I wasn't subtle when I scoped a beautiful woman. I wonder if he meant by that comment that my tongue hangs out and I drool? As I completed scanning the incredible length of thighs on display on my front seat, I looked up to see Pauline's head turned, watching me checking her out and smiling wickedly. I was, to say the least, embarrassed to be caught out perving.

Now most women when they ride as a front seat passenger alongside a male driver regularly tug downward on the hem of their dress, particularly if it is really short. I used to get a bit of a complex about that, thinking that because every woman who rode with me did that, I must have a reputation as a bit of a pervert among the women I knew.

But the super confident Pauline didn't bother to tug down the hem of her LBD. She just sat down there exactly as she landed, the bottom of her dress at least 8 inches above the knee. In fact, it was so far up that, if you really were measuring, it would be more appropriate to gauge how far below her crotch ... and in that instance, I would guess not much more than 3 inches.

The dress was jet black and the beautiful spring day was warm enough that she had no need for a jacket over it. She carried a slim matching black purse ... I think women call them a clutch, at least my wife does. Her hosiery beneath the dress was black too, a slightly lighter shade if you know what I mean, and she topped it off with shiny black high-heels. I don't know how women can walk in heels that thin and that high but it does enhance their height, and even better, it does project a woman's arse out in a most appealing way. Her flaming red shoulder-length hair was a sensational contrast to this vision in black.

Nothing was said between us for a minute or two, had we exhausted all lines of conversation when our spouses were with us, or was there now a strong whiff of sexual tension within the car? Neither of us had said anything, other than Pauline's reference to how much room there was in the back. But I had taken that as a flippant attempt at humour. That was her style, even at dinner parties.

"What a lovely day Brad," she broke the ice, not looking at me but staring out her side window, "nearly warm enough for us to go find a nude beach or even a backyard pool and go skinny dipping. Shame I didn't bring any towels."

How does a man answer that? I rapidly tried to find an appropriate zinger that I might fire back, something witty, even something borderline like her suggestion. Nothing came and I felt like a klutz. Worse still, it sounded like I had ignored her.

I felt a tad uncomfortable. As I've already told you, I'm a happily married guy, I love my wife, I love my kids, in all the years of marriage I've never done anything with another woman that I would be ashamed of. But sitting alongside Pauline in my car as we drove along, heading back toward our neighbourhood, for the first time in the 5 years I had known her, I was consciously aware of the sexual aura around this woman. She oozed it!

She tried again, "You'd have towels at home Brad, and you've got a pool, is it heated?"

"Y-e-s!" I answered slowly, tentatively, cautious at what I might be getting myself into.

"Perfect, let's head to your place then."

"I have work to do at home," I told her, immediately thinking how naïve and stupid that would sound to a woman of the world such as Pauline.

"You have to balance it Brad, time for work, time for play."

"You really seem to have your heart set on an early season swim Pauline."

"It's not so much the swim, it's just a ruse to get you naked so that I can check out your body."

I was taken aback by her bold approach, "Really ... you could be disappointed, it's nothing special. I don't work-out much like you guys."

"Don't sell yourself short Brad, I've had guys be modest, tell me their body is nothing special and then when I get to see it, they're packing the best bit of equipment imaginable."

"Equipment, is that what I think it is?"

"Probably, you're a man aren't you? I was just being polite and subtle Brad, but I can call it something that you would be more familiar with. Cock or dick, whatever you prefer, there is that better? As I was saying, with some modest guys, you get their clothes off and then find that they've got the best cock I've ever laid eyes on."

"Are you inferring that you may have laid eyes on a few."

"Let's say I've seen more than my share. I'm not a slut Brad, I'm just talking about the..."

I didn't want to offend my car guest, I had to interrupt her for fear that she get the wrong impression, "Oh please Pauline, don't get me wrong, I never inferred that you were."

"Thanks, but I was about to say I'm only comparing amongst the guys in the club."

"In the club, what's the club?"

"Easy Brad, I'm coming to that. Wally was in the club, poor bastard, for all the good it's going to do him now. Damn it, he was more than just in the club, it was his idea, he picked out the girls he wanted and founded the club. Anyway, founder or not, he was a member like any of the guys in it and now we have to find a new member to replace him. The girls got together the other day after we heard the news about Wally and we all voted on who we'd want to replace him. I am pleased to inform you, Mr. Brad Jennings, that you won easily, a very popular pick. You would have been voted in long ago but I suspect a couple of the girls weren't quite sure whether you'd be up for it. You do portray a very squeaky clean and straight image, you know."

"What on earth are you talking about Pauline? What's this club, what sort of club is it? And you said that Wally and some others, girls -- what girls -- started it? And voting for someone, why do you have to vote? And why does it have to be a guy?"

"Oh Brad, it just has to be, it definitely has to be a guy to replace Wally."

"And somehow I have been voted in, even though I never knew that I was a candidate. And do I really come across as squeaky clean and straight?"

"Yes, a lot of us think that, so I told the girls to leave it to me to conduct my own test, to see whether you really are. I was trying to work out how to get you alone and wham, Becky called me out of the blue and suggested we four car pool to Wally's funeral. Problem solved and here we are, heading to your house, are you excited?"

"I don't know, should I be?" I dared to turn my head, looking away from the road ahead toward the beautiful redhead sitting beside me.

"I hoped that you would be by now. Maybe you need some help, how about this, does this help set the scene?" She brought her hands down by her sides and, raising her arse just a little up off the seat, she used her hands to wriggle the little black dress even higher on her hips. So high that the tops of her thighs were exposed, a couple of inches of bare tanned flesh above what turned out to be elasticised top stockings... I think they're called stay-ups or hold-ups, they don't need garters or suspenders.

Even sitting to one side of her, as the front of the dress rose above her crotch, I caught a glimpse of her equally black panties. Pauline reached her thumbs in under the sides of her dress and hooked them in the skimpy sides of the panties, pulling them down her long legs, sliding the tiny garment to around her ankles, lifting her feet up off the floor of my car long enough to totally remove her panties.

"Whoa! What are you doing Pauline? Wow!" I didn't know where to look, I was like a kid in a toy shop but still trying to drive my car. I caught a quick glimpse of her shaved pussy now that the panties were gone, and would have stared down there longer if I hadn't needed to dart my eyes back to the road ahead, seeing that the coming traffic light had changed to red.

"I'm just getting started in advance of reaching your house. Do you like what you see Brad?"

"Err ... oh yes, of course ... but I don't think that going to my house is a very good idea."

"Oh but we have to, how else can I conduct my test on your suitability to be the newest member of our little club ... I've promised the girls, you surely don't want to disappoint them, do you? Nor me?"

"No I wouldn't, particularly since you tell me that they're all ladies that I know."

I had pulled the car to a stop at that red traffic light, allowing me the chance to take a peep down at her exposed pussy. Her legs were parted slightly and it appeared that her outer labia lips were even oozing just a little moisture. I felt hot, flushed and wondered if my face was red as I stared blatantly -- mouth open - at her treasure.

While the red light afforded me the time to watch, Pauline lifted the foot furthest from me up onto the dashboard and parted her thighs wider by bending the closer leg so that her knee pointed toward me in the car, "So Brad, what do you think of my pussy, I gave it an extra finer shave this morning, have you had many like this?"

"No, none since Becky and I married, hers is the only one but she's not totally shaved like yours. She has what she calls a little runway."

"Oh yes, that can be nice, but Peter thinks that completely smooth does it. So, are you expecting me to believe that you've never strayed all the years you've been married? My God, that's almost like being a virgin these days. Sounds like the girls were right who said they thought you were squeaky clean."

Initially, I was gobsmacked, stunned that this woman that I had known -- equally as well as and, always previously, in company with her husband Peter -- for 5 years, had exposed her naked and very (shaven) bare pussy to me. I might be loyally married and devoted to my wife and kids but this moment was still an enormous thrill and I felt a very predictable reaction in my groin.

Pauline brought her hand across, I found that she was holding her tiny black panties scrunched up in a ball in her hand. She passed them under my nose and I detected an unmistakably strong sexual aroma present on them like they had absorbed some of her juices. The light turned green and I was forced to get the car rolling again.

"So it's good that you don't seem to be shocked by me ... well, not that shocked, eh? Here, have a trophy for your mirror," she said as she draped the now discarded black panties, that she had allowed me to sniff, over my internal rear-view mirror. Until a few moments ago, those panties compactly encased her pussy and arse; I didn't deter her for now but there was no way I could leave them there, especially once we reached our neighbourhood.

"Err, why did you feel it was necessary to take off your panties and show me your pussy Pauline?"

"Darling, it's my offbeat way of promoting our little club to you. Brad, as a member, you will get to see all those beautiful neighbours you've long admired just like this, their cunnies exposed and waiting for your cock to do the dirty deed for them."

She had at least tweaked my curiosity, "What would I have to do if I joined?"

"Fuck some very desirable women Brad, I'm sure that would be something you could handle admirably."

"I ... err ... I'm ... err, stunned, but I still don't get it. Is that all the club does, have men and women who are not married fuck each other?"

"You make it sound so sordid Brad. We actually have some of the most beautiful and desirable women in our neighbourhood who like to spice up their sex lives by providing a service to our male members, who just happen to be their neighbours. So you and Becky would have been married a few years now Brad, how many?"

"Fourteen years, although we were living together much longer than that."

"Yes, 14, so you would know how it becomes for couples who have been married for that length of time ... sex can get quite stale. Surely you've discovered that by now Brad, does Becky still come across for you every time you feel like it? I bet she doesn't!"

"Oh, we still do alright, maybe it's not quite as often as we used to do it, or as I'd like it, but overall I can't complain too much."

"If you're being totally honest with me Brad, then maybe you are one of the luckiest couples because I can tell you that all the men I talk to think they're now only getting 50% of what they used to ... if it's even as high as that. All across our suburb, in the privacy of bedrooms, every night men are hearing the hard cold words of 'I don't feel like it tonight honey' or 'I've got my period today.' So when that happens to one of our male members and he's really horny, he only has to send a text message overnight to me ... our service offers a 10-hour response ... much less during the day, as quick as an hour. Next morning by 9 o'clock, we've lined him up with one of our special ladies, usually it will be a woman that he knows socially from the neighbourhood so the interaction is not awkward. He gets to enjoy some mind-blowing sex before going off to his office or place of business just an hour or two later than normal. You know, what is so ironic is that the woman who has just put out for him and got his rocks off may have been one who said no to her husband the previous night. But the next morning, she's happy to do the deed with one of her male neighbours because it's different and exciting and new to do it with him compared to boring missionary sex with her husband that she's done a thousand times over the years."