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He meets an enticing woman.

Then, at night, I throw on something sexy, and if he's feeling kinky, the PVC and schoolgirl outfit comes out. Sometimes, the PVC schoolgirl outfit. There's something about these little rituals of everyday life that, far from making it mundane, make me so incredibly aroused at the exciting notion that I have slipped permanently into the wonderfully easy marriage of a trophy wife.

Though obviously, a trophy wife is nothing if you can't show her off. If you ever knew me before the marriage, when I was just Patrick's little brother and not his fag slut of a wife (though still a bit of a notorious fag slut in his own right), you probably would have heard me talking at some point about Malcolm. I preferred my guys lean like my big brother, but there was something perfectly charming about Malcolm: his broad Australian accent and broader Australian smile - and even broader shoulders which gave him that muscular triangle body that wasn't too ridiculous, and especially worked on him. I wouldn't pause to breathe in one of my friends got me on to the subject of Malcolm before, heck even a stranger walking in the park may not have been safe. But now of course, I only ever thought of my brother, my brother's cock, my brother's cum. That's why, when Malcolm came to visit, I was barely even phased. I was for my brother's pleasure, I didn't even give him a glance when I arrived.

"Paddy!" He roared, his eyes lighting up with glee as he entered the room. It's not like they hadn't seen each other in a long long time, Malcolm lived maybe a few blocks over, but 'Paddy' was usually so busy with one thing or another (I was another) that he rarely saw Malcolm, and not for very long. So, Malcolm was excited to be over, and my brother was just as happy.

"Malcolm," he chuckled in response "I'd invite you in, but you seem to know that's not necessary."

"Well, I can never be sure," Malcolm grinned sheepishly "it feels like it's been so long, eh?" he added with a guffaw.

"Well you know how woman can be," he said, with a gesture to me that obviously said 'come forward'. "You remember my wife, right?"

"The ravishing Ophelia" he said, almost with full sincerity "last I saw you, you were in a big white dress and now you look like a double of Katherine! Got a type, eh Paddy?" my brother just nodded his head. "Anyway, shame about Paddy's little bro running away like that, you never met him!"

"It's in my understanding," I replied, with a fond smile "that he was always a little bitch anyway."

Greeting done, we made our way into the main living room, adjacent to the kitchen and with a sliding patio door that gave a great view of the pool, which is to say, gave my brother a great view of my ass as I climb out the pool in my wet bikini. We stood for a bit in the way people do at a gathering, anticipating, judging, expecting. But it was still comfortable, we were all friendly with each other - my brother said he had to go change because it was too hot, and left me with Malcolm.

"So Malcolm," I said, starting some casual conversation "I hope you don't hate me for 'stealing' Patrick's time."

"Only as much as I hate him for stealing you away," he chuckled, turning to me. I thought it was an odd response, but I just laughed along with him.

"Yeah, right." He seemed to take this as a signal however and started walking me backwards into the wall.

"I mean it's selfish really, claiming a lovely thing like you all for himself. I bet you should really be a free spirit, free to fuck wherever you please. I mean, you look just about ready to take a good number of men on all at once and have them trembling at your feet as you make them cum, right hottie?"

I don't know what he meant by that, I was in a simple zip-up red dress, though it did end somewhere just below the butt so it could just be seen poking out.

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