Under the table touches: this guy has a wife

Image by the fabulous Stuart F Taylor

There are two levels on which I’m enjoying dinner. On the surface, the main conversation – catching up with friends I’ve not seen in years. Beneath the table, something even better – his thigh nudging against mine. The oh-so-casual initial pressure that could easily be written off as an accident conjures a flash of possibility as I realise that… yeah… this guy just might want to fuck me. A rush of teenage horn flushes across my skin as I decide that I’m gonna nudge him back to find out for sure. Meeting his pressure, thigh-against-thigh, I remind myself that this guy has a wife.

I wouldn’t normally fuck someone who’s married. That’s a basic rule. I have in the past, but I’m trying to be a better person these days. I’ll allow myself a brief cuntgush of longing for this or that dude, perhaps a playful flirtation, but ultimately settle for a nice wank alone at home, safe and comfy on the moral high ground.

But I’m not feeling much like myself today, and it’s fun to have a guy press his thigh up against mine during dinner. A really hot guy, too. He’s pretty and smart and nerdy and so many other things I like in men. He’s been holding court a little while we chat. Performing. Telling funny stories, being charming and lovely, generally piquing my interest. Besides, while we’re running through excuses, here’s the most honest of the lot: I am human. And humans are awful impulsive creatures sometimes.

So I press my thigh against his.

He nudges back, harder this time, and the thrill of realisation – he’s doing this on purpose! – starts the blood thumping in my crotch.

We’re testing the waters, like a call and response:

You want to?

Yes, I do.

I shift slightly in my seat and reposition so my hand is casually brushing the back of his jeans. He responds again.

You want to?

Yes, I do.

Each escalation reminds me how much I miss this vibe: the ‘will they/won’t they’ that comes with real life flirtation. Most new men I run into these days come from dating-style interactions. The ‘will they/won’t they’ has little to do with sex, it’s just a bland question of whether or not we’ll get on. If we do, we’ll fuck: we both know that. As long as we happen to match, the shag itself is a certainty.

But this guy has a wife.

With him the fuck is forbidden, so even the simplest touches come with question marks, imbued with infinite hotness. I remind myself that this can go nowhere, but enjoy the thrum of ‘maybe’ that hangs in that moment anyway.

I know. I’m bad. It gets better. Stick with me through the sordid glow of this part because the payoff’s worth it, I promise.

Beneath the table, where our friends can’t see, I touch him and he touches me back. I get flashbacks to another evening, almost two decades ago, when a different guy did the same: in the pub, beneath the table, where his girlfriend couldn’t see, he pressed against my thigh without breaking the flow in conversation. Later that night, after dropping his girlfriend and my boyfriend off at their respective homes, he drove me to a quiet, dark street and trembled with abject lust and wretched guilt as I sucked him dry.

Now, here, I’m a sensible grown-up who would never fuck a man who was forbidden. But this guy’s doing very similar things: gripping my thigh, entwining our feet, and pressing tightly against me.

Call and response:

You want to?

Yes, I do.

I want to. So much. The weight of how much I want to takes me by surprise. It’s not a casual ‘fancy’ or ‘desire’: this is hunger.

We chat to our friends, he touches me under the table, and I can feel my cunt start to hurt for it. Physically yearning to have part of him inside me. To ingest him. Swallow him whole.

I want to turn my head and press my lips against his ear, say ‘take me somewhere and fuck me.’ In the moment, I’m picturing a frantic fumble in the bathroom at the restaurant, sliding one hand over his crotch and gripping his cock tight through his clothes. Unzipping him with trembling fingers then running the pad of one thumb softly over the head of his dick. Feeling a droplet of precum through soft cotton boxers, and hearing him make one of those agony-tight moans in the back of his throat as I reach inside.

You want to?

Yes, I do.

But this guy has a wife.

I’d never normally try to fuck a married man, I really and truly wouldn’t. I learned my lesson many years ago, and vowed not to do it again. But there are other lessons I’ve learned in the last ten years, and one in particular nudged me to roll the dice on this guy: not all marriages look the same.

Trembling a little with possibility, I corner him on the way back from the bathroom. Channeling the confident person that I pretend to be when I’m trying to get laid, I ask him, bold as brass:

“How would your wife feel if she knew you were doing this?”

His answer will launch a thousand wanks:

“I have her permission to fuck you.”

You asked… permission? From your wife? To fuck… me specifically? Yes. All of that, he explained. Couched in polite caveats about how he really didn’t want to be presumptuous (which it absolutely was) but delivered with devastating certainty.

You want to?

I do and I can.

Prior to ever having laid eyes on me… based purely on having frequently beat one out to the shit I write here… on the vague off-chance that he might meet GOTN at a party… this hot, nerdy guy had pre-ordered a hall pass from his wife.


Yes, of course I fucked him. As soon the word ‘permission’ came out of his filthy mouth, I was so hot for it I could have fucking eaten him.



  • Starcross says:

    ” a brief cuntgush of longing”

    Glorious writing, and such wonderful tension all the way through. Love how you’ve made the word ‘permission’ instantly sexy (even though I couldn’t help but think that this may just be another married person lying about having permission) – “launch a thousand wanks” indeed!

    • Girl on the net says:

      Thank you! I’m glad you like it!

      This though: “ even though I couldn’t help but think that this may just be another married person lying about having permission”. I’m not naive, please assume I had good reason to trust this man. Also bear in mind that the people who feature on the blog are real, and may well read comments sometimes- it’s very kind of them to let me share some of the hot things they do, and it’s a really vulnerable thing so if poss pls extend maximum benefit of the doubt. I’m not having a go because I totally understand that this may be a thing people think, I just thought I should add this response for anyone else who might be thinking it.

  • Starcross says:

    Please forgive my jadedness, maximum benefit of doubt extended

  • fuzzy says:

    consent is soooo sexy

  • SpaceCaptainSmith says:

    Ha, that’s awesome. :D

    Though the silent call-and-response nudging is pretty hot too; as I know from a different situation. The gradual mutual understanding of ‘is this guy thinking the same thing as me… does he really want to… yes, he does!’

  • Stradivarious says:

    It sent a tingle down by spine. The “I do, and I can”.
    The feeling of excitement at the thought that a hot lady wanted to tempt a nerdy.bloke like this.
    Wow. More please.

  • Stradivarious says:

    It was so hot. Spell check failed.

  • A Gray says:

    Super hot!

    Also inspired me to do a deep dive on all the non-monogamy and polyam posts in the archive…

  • ftandhubby says:

    “not all marriages look the same.” Oh so very true. Had a fun co worker who was responding to my harmless married guy flirting. When she indicated wanting to take things further I had to ask if she’d enjoy that if it was a mfm with my wife. A good time was had by all. Your friend in the story has a great spouse and your a good friend to appreciate her husband. Now I’m waiting to hear the rest of the story as there certainly has to be more.

    • Girl on the net says:

      Ah I’m so glad that turned into a fun thing for you all!

      Re: this story – I don’t have anything else in draft right now, and sometimes I just can’t translate stuff into stories for the blog. Usually what I do is pick a tone/event/highlight to share and then do that. Some shags might get more than one blog post, some get something more peripheral like this one, and others no blog post at all. Basically what I’m saying is it’s lovely that you’d like to hear more but don’t hold your breath – this blog isn’t a comprehensive account of all the sex I ever have, it’s just snapshots. The muse pops by to let me capture the odd bits and pieces, but it isn’t always possible (or welcome) for me to write up everything in depth.

  • Quinn Rhodes says:

    Hahaha, I love this so much. And yes, less assumptions about being married = being monogamous in 2023! As someone who is going to be the best man in my girlfriend’s wedding later this year, I love that you just asked in a bold/flirty way and communicated directly. Very excited that these kinds of hot adventures are part of your life!

    • Girl on the net says:

      You get to be the BEST MAN?!?! That is so fucking cool and I am extremely delighted for you. Are you doing a speech? It is literally my dream (and my bestie has promised that if he ever gets married, I may have a similar honour at his wedding – I’ve been honing my speech for over a decade) to have a supportive role like this at the wedding of someone I care about. I am SO CHUFFED for you! I hope the wedding is awesome and you get to shower love on your girlfriend and then dance exuberantly at the reception <3

  • Stradivarious says:

    I had to go and lie down.
    “This is just a snapshot”
    Just wow.
    (Infinite number of nerdy.blokes but only one GOTN…..)

  • Goddessdeeva says:


    I love this kind of flirting where your lips tingle and your cunt throbs and part of you hopes no one notices and part of you wants to fuck on the table in front of them all.

  • Michael says:

    Your evening reminds of a double date with my wife before she was my wife, when we were both others. Oh those feels sure do a hell of a job on you.

  • Bacchus says:

    In my case the “OMG this is so awesome I hope he was telling the truth” thought flitted across the surface of my brain just a few seconds before the follow-on “GOTN wouldn’t have written it like this unless she thought so, and that’s all the permission I need to just enjoy the fellow’s cheek and foresight.”

  • Longtime Reader and Fan says:

    This is like a summit meeting between my two favorite sex bloggers.

  • John Yeo says:

    That magical word “permission” from the wife. It brings up the question that perhaps the wife is a hotwife and the guy whose leg she communicates through is a cuck on a rare night out…one who has not been laid in so, so, long.

  • Patrice says:

    Oh, GOTN, what a vividly, beautifully written piece: Thank you!

    OED editors: I hope you’ve duly logged “cuntgush” for the next update.

    Even if it does turn out to be the name of a village in East Dunbartonshire or somewhere.

  • northern boy says:

    I can only imagine how he was feeling.

    Nervous about raising it with his wife (because every ask is still an unknown), knowing that you might not be at all in to it, that moment when you catch yourself holding your breath because they did respond and maybe just maybe it is on (instant feeling of being 16 again and somebody turning on a dancefloor so that that your hand slides into the right places and…), and the knowledge at the back of your brain that it’s ok, it’s “pre-approved” but that still there will be emotions and feelings to reconsile later.

    I fucking love it, and you describe it perfectly.

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