My Hot Wife's Double Life - Chapter 2: Chapter 2

I barely knew Sophia's husband. The guy was quiet as a mouse—hardly said two words whenever we crossed paths.
The only tidbit I remembered was Sophia casually mentioning he worked as a software engineer.
Young as he was, the guy was already losing the battle against male pattern baldness.
Honestly, they made an odd pair. Sophia towered over him by half a head.
While we guys lounged on the couch sipping tea, my wife Emily got whisked into the kitchen by Sophia to help with dinner prep.
"Still off the cigarettes?" I asked, pulling out a pack.
Her husband gave a sheepish grin. "Sophia's rule. Catches me with one, she'll blow a gasket."
I smirked. "Probably for the best. So... what's Sophia pulling in as a real estate agent?"
"About twenty grand," he said. "She's their top performer. Most agents barely scrape by on seven or eight thousand—some just get base pay. All about hustle, I guess."
That tracked with what I'd figured, though the number still caught me off guard.
Guess those Instagram real estate moguls weren't all smoke and mirrors after all.
After one too many cups of tea, nature called. I excused myself down the hallway.
Passing the kitchen, I caught snippets of Emily and Sophia's conversation.
Our place had one of those open layouts—living room, bathroom, and kitchen all connected with a sink area in between.
Couldn't help but pause near the sink, eavesdropping.
"Alright you little vixen, fess up. You and Ethan got busy before we came over, didn't you?"
"God, no! Quit making stuff up."
Sophia pinched Emily's waist. "Liar. I can smell the sex on you. Hmph, so Ethan's got skills, huh? Give me the deets—how many times a week?"
Emily turned beet red. "Ugh, why are you like this? Fine! He came home early from work while I was doing yoga. Maybe the leggings were... distracting. Normally three times a week. The man's insatiable—what am I supposed to do?"
"Three times?!" Sophia groaned. "My deadbeat husband's lucky if it's three times a month. Fishnets? Birthday suit? Zero reaction. Moral of the story? Never marry a programmer. Goes bald by thirty and can't perform."
She sighed dramatically. "Maybe I should borrow your Ethan for a weekend."
Emily giggled. "Be my guest. Honestly, I could use the break. What are besties for?"
"Keep talking like that and I might take you up on it."
Whoa. Didn't expect their girl talk to go quite that... graphic.
Sophia's frustration was practically radiating off her. Almost felt bad for the poor guy.
Not wanting to overstay my eavesdropping welcome, I slipped back to the living room and casually resumed tea with Sophia's husband.
Dinner rolled around soon enough.
The four of us dug into hot pot with sides of cold dishes, fruit, and beer—a proper feast.
After we'd eaten, Sophia suggested cards with a twist: losers picked truth or dare.
Her husband bowed out, leaving the three of us to play.
Lady Luck wasn't on my side. Round after round, I kept losing while Sophia cleaned up.
First loss: truth.
Sophia's eyes sparkled. "Let's make this interesting. Ethan, no bullshitting—what's the record for how many times you've gone at it with Emily in one night?"
Jesus. That escalated fast.
I hesitated, but Emily just laughed and elbowed me. "Oh come on, tell her!"
"F-five times," I admitted, face burning.
That was back in our early dating days—young, dumb, and full of... enthusiasm. Kept her in bed all Sunday. She could barely walk afterward—had to bring her meals like room service.
Sophia howled with laughter. "Damn, Ethan! You're an animal. Poor Em must've been walking funny for days."
Next round. Sophia's follow-up question somehow topped the last one.
"Alright, next question. And be honest—what's your... measurements down there? Ever checked?"