My Wife's Online Crush

I’ve never been the jealous type, not really. Not when Lena’s eyes would linger a second too long on a pretty barista, or when she’d come home flushed from yoga class talking about the instructor’s hands. We’ve always been open like that—my wife and I—married six years, solid as anything, but hungry in ways monogamy never quite satisfied. Still, nothing prepared me for the way my pulse hammered the first time I scrolled through her phone and found the chat with Sophia.

I shouldn’t have looked. I know that. But Lena left it unlocked on the kitchen counter one Tuesday night while she was in the shower, steam fogging the bathroom mirror, and the notification lit up like a dare: Sophia: God, I keep thinking about your mouth. My thumb hovered. Then I opened it.

Thirty-two years old, married to the woman I love more than breath, and there I was standing barefoot on cold tile reading messages that made my thighs press together. Sophia was twenty-eight, a graphic designer who lived three states away, bisexual and blunt about it. They’d met in some design forum months ago. The early stuff was innocent enough—color theory, freelance rates—but for weeks now it had turned filthy. Lena describing exactly how she’d peel Sophia’s jeans down. Sophia sending voice notes I could almost hear through the text: low, husky promises about riding Lena’s face until she came so hard she forgot her own name. I read every line twice, heart slamming, cunt already slick against my underwear. I wanted to watch. Christ, I wanted it so badly my hands shook.

When Lena came out wrapped in a towel, hair dripping, I didn’t confess right away. I waited until we were in bed, her leg thrown over mine, and then I whispered what I’d done. She went still. Then she laughed—soft, surprised, turned on—and rolled on top of me.

“I’ve been hoping you’d find them,” she said against my mouth. “I want you there, baby. I want you to see me take her apart. Or help. Whatever you need.” Her fingers slid between my legs and found me soaked. “Fuck, you’re dripping just thinking about it.”