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Chapter 1:

This interestingly erotic tale of wife sharing all began the evening before the wedding of Graham Fulton and his bride-to-be, Miss Kylie Swinton.

Traditionally, it would be the groom's bachelor party that Graham drove to, except for the fact that his fiancé was sat beside him at the time. Their destination, a French restaurant.

During the short drive, Graham managed to hide his anxiety about the wedding. Not so much the wedding itself, but the idea of only having sex with the same woman the rest of his life.

While neither of them had discussed their past lovers, Graham outnumbered his bride-to-be by some distance, and so it was only natural for such feelings to surface so close to the day of reckoning as he saw it.

Getting married was scary, and right then, as Graham drove towards the restaurant, he couldn't help be feel frantic.

His feelings, however, were ridiculous. Marriage was just the next step in something that's typically been going on for centuries. Kylie and he had been dating for three years and engaged for the last six months and so marriage was simply the next step. Or was it? Should it? Graham had pondered, and on several occasions, as their wedding day drew ever closer.

Kylie, on the other hand, didn't appear to have the same reservations as Graham. Far from it. It was her special day and she had the special man in Graham to enjoy the rest of her life with; till death do they part.

"How are you feeling?" he asked his bride to be.

"Good, of course," she said with a smile.

"Just remember, all of this stress is going to be over soon and then it's off to Tahiti."

"Yeah, I know," she sighed with a nod.

Just then, as they neared their destination, Kylie's tone gave Graham pause, a tiny little secret, maybe, one hidden somewhere deep within the nuanced layer of her demeanour.

Graham had no doubt in his mind that Kylie loved him with all her heart and soul and that the two of them would be happily married for the rest of their lives. Still, there was something lurking below the surface that he couldn't quite put a finger on.

Having arrived at their destination, they stepped out of Graham's car and walked from the parking lot towards the idyllic French bistro.

"Table for Fulton," he uttered to the maitre d'.

"Ah yes. If you'd just like to follow me, sir, madam," he said with a warm welcome smile.

Presently seated, the couple perused the menu, which, thankfully, was in English.

"Are you ready to order?" their waiter asked, pen and pad poised ready.

As calmly as he could, Graham gave the waiter their order, just about managing a smile.

"Thank you," he said with a smile and left them to talk. By all accounts, they had something to talk about.

"Are you anxious?" Graham asked.

"What? Of course not. What made you think that? You?" she said.

"Just a bit," Graham confessed, a smile on his face.

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