Best Bedding for Nicole

We had been contemplating, discussing, and even joking about it for years. I had thought it was merely a tantalizing fantasy, some spicy pillow talk – something to get him aroused, for me. But now, there's another woman in our bedroom. Young, breathtakingly gorgeous, undressing very slowly as my husband and I watch from our bed, anticipating, trying to imagine. In a matter of moments, I'll have to make a decision.

I was doing my best to just go with the flow, not overthink it. I always tend to overthink. I should just feel, that's the key. Breathe, in and out, steadily and smoothly. I can get through this.

And I mustn't look! I couldn't look, not yet. I promised myself I would soon, but not right now. Breathe.

I stood in our bedroom, back facing the bed, eyes closed even though I had just turned off the lights. Trying to maintain some semblance of control as my husband caressed my shoulders, my arms, that sensitive spot at the back of my neck that he knows I love so much. His touch was light, sensual, and surprisingly slow, which is unusual for him. Once he gets going, he likes to move quickly.

He's trying to help me relax, I suddenly realized. That's sweet of him.

He traced a finger across my shoulder, up my neck, under my chin. His other hand gently pulled me into him at the small of my back, lifting me to tiptoes and bringing my lips to his. I wrapped my arms around him, attempting to match his softness. A gentle, soothing, lingering kiss, and I tried a little harder to not overthink it all.

After all, it was my overthinking that got me into this situation in the first place.

Another tiny, delicate kiss on the tip of my nose brought a smile to my lips. Then one on my forehead as his hand allowed my chin to lower. I tilted my head, and he pressed his nose into my hair, as he loves the scent of it.

Usually, I would have just reveled in all of this. And it still felt good. But tonight was different. I desperately tried to focus only on his touch, to feel just that, and not think about the young, gorgeous woman sitting across our bedroom, watching us.

God, she was so young. And beautiful. And very matter-of-fact about her sexuality. "Yeah, I love to fuck girls," she had said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Nicole. We'd known her for years, ever since we bought a home just a few doors down from her parents' house. On the first Saturday of every month, we would pick her up, drive her to our friends' place, and she would babysit their kids while we went out for the afternoon – playing tennis, biking, seeing a movie, then driving her back home.

We had watched her blossom from a gawky teenage girl with braces, acne, and oversized sweaters, into a stunning young woman about to leave for college. Today had been her last time babysitting, and this was our final trip taking her home.

I could never, ever do something like this with a stranger – some anonymous woman we met at a bar, the mall, or found on Craigslist. We had talked about the different ways we could find someone to share, but a friend would be

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