Cheating wife,erotic stories, A confusing start and a convoluted end. That’s how, in its immediate aftermath, I saw my affair.
At the beginning, it made no sense. Here I was, a happily married woman, who dearly loved her husband, having a four-month affair with another man. I’m hazy on the exact reason it started; that’s one reason I’m putting pen to paper. The other reason being; it must never happen again.
No, my husband didn’t catch me; I’m way too smart for that. The real reason is to remind myself in the future that, however exciting it may seem at the time, it just isn’t worth it. It was terrifying from the start and the last couple of months have been a hell of guilt.
The end was convoluted because it didn’t end until two and a half weeks after I first decided it finally should. There was no confusion about the exact moment I finally decided it should end. It was five seconds after I realised my lover, far from loving me, didn’t give a shit about anyone but himself. That particular revelation came when I found myself on elbows and knees, on my own bed, with the bastard ploughing into my anus and completely ignoring my screams telling him to stop. The big prick had me completely powerless, however, and my discomfort made not one bit of difference to him.
Okay, the start. What happened four months ago?
I am madly in love with my husband, Dave, and have been since before we married six years ago. He’d just finished his Boilermaker apprenticeship and was so proud to be a journeyman. I was a little surprised when he showed an interest in me as I considered myself only slightly above average in looks, and was never that sought after in high school. Dave, on the other hand, was very cute; three inches taller than my 5′ 7″, good-looking and well-muscled. Temperamentally, he was a bit of a dichotomy. He was usually soft-spoken and mild-mannered, but I’d seen him often enough in stressful situations to know there was a cold, ruthless side to his personality.
I’d never seriously considered a career, knowing my future was as wife and mother. However, I wanted to live life a little. We’d decided, at first, to wait till we were thirty before starting a family. That is coming very soon. Dave, however, had been dropping hints he was ready for over a year now. I gave in and we decided I’d go off the pill next month.
What can I say? We were in love, both rapturously happy, and life was on track. With both of us working, the old bank balance was very healthy and we would be secure when I finally give up working to become a baby factory.
I guess things first started coming off the rails when the place I worked closed its doors. That was a shame, as they were a fantastic bunch. I quickly found another place, though. It was a smaller company; the owner, John, and thirty other employees. Apart from a couple of male technicians, the rest were female clerks and secretaries. You know how it is when you join a new, established group. It took a while for them to accept me.
John had hinted at my interview that with my secretarial experience, I might be considered for executive assistant promotion. Shortly after I started, it was clear his current assistant probably wouldn’t be there much longer. Their relationship was decidedly frosty. Sure enough, three weeks later, she didn’t show up and I was called into John’s office and offered the job on probation. I accepted and it was announced. That afternoon, I noticed my tentative friendships with the other girls cooling. That wasn’t the end of the world, though, as I’d maintained my friendships with the girls from my last job and we all got together regularly for girl’s nights out.
Dave was happy someone was finally recognising my talents, but at the same time, disappointed when I suggested staying on the pill so I could challenge myself professionally. It would be nice to look back in future years and say I was a successful professional. I really don’t know why I withheld a couple of facts from him that night. One was that in my new role, I would be making more money than him. The second was that I would have to travel with John fairly regularly.
Oh, another thing I didn’t mention to Dave was how attractive John was. It wasn’t just because he was big, fit, and very good-looking. It was the aura of power and wealth he exuded. He oozed charisma. When he gave me a genuine smile, as he was shaking my hand in congratulations, I felt blessed. I couldn’t help noticing how soft his hands were compared to Dave’s.
Thus began my new career and John’s seduction of me.
Can you call it seduction when it was obvious what he had in mind? It certainly wasn’t subtle. He was always ‘innocently’ touching me, making sure I had fresh flowers on my desk, and complimenting me. As I was aware of it all, I managed to stay completely in control. I made sure to use the words, ‘Dave’ and ‘husband’ at least twice a day. If I did happen to be a clueless bimbo who’d fall for this crap, my new workmates would have clued me in. At least five of them mentioned John had a history and to watch out. I thanked them and let it be known I was smart enough to have spotted it myself. At the end of the first week, John took me to a clothes shop. As we would be travelling together, he wanted me to project the appropriate image. As he was paying, I ended up with slightly more revealing uniforms than I would have chosen for myself. I’m fairly sure it was a test when he offered to buy me some lingerie as well. I said no, of course.
Did I shut him down? No. Why not? For several reasons. The first being, I was on probation and no one in that position feels secure. Also, to be honest, I found his attention extremely flattering. What just-on-the-sunny-side-of-plain girl wouldn’t? I did wonder what he saw in me and that was slightly confusing. I was in control though, so where was the harm in a little innocent flirting? I can’t describe how flattering his interest in me was.
Day three of my new job and John’s wife came to the office. I had the distinct impression I was being interviewed again. She showed me photos of their three cute children and could see I was a little clucky. We talked about Dave and my plans for a family. When she left, I felt confident she was happy I was smart enough to be qualified for the job and not some top-heavy, beautiful but vacant bimbo that she should be worried about.
Four weeks later, I came home on a Monday and told Dave that John and I were going for a three day sales trip from Wednesday. He asked how often these would be and I was vague by replying once or twice per month. He didn’t comment.
Tuesday afternoon, I became aware of a bit of a hubbub in the main office. I left my antechamber, outside John’s inner sanctum, to find Dave in the next room surrounded by clerks and secretaries. As usual, all the eligible girls surrounding him were giggling, touching their hair, and thrusting their chests out. His regular casual uniform was a loose, sleeveless tank top, that showed his upper body off well. He’d started wearing them at my suggestion. I rescued him and took him into my office. He wanted to meet John, so I introduced them. I could almost see sparks as they shook hands.
That night as I packed, Dave was so cute. He warned me to watch out for John. He told me some players were extremely subtle in their approach in an effort to get past people’s defences. He warned me about the dangers of drinking too much while away and about men who slipped muscle and inhibition relaxants into girl’s drinks. He even talked about some of the tactics they used. When I asked how he knew all this, he reminded me he was a fan of erotic stories and had read extensively on the subject. I found it very hard to keep a straight face. I knew exactly what John’s intentions and tactics were. I had no intention of losing control. Of course, I couldn’t say anything like that to Dave.
We went out for dinner, then Dave made love to me like only he can. I’d swear he was trying to make me so sore and satisfied, I wouldn’t be able to do anything for the three days, even if I wanted to. However, as his rough hands caressed me at the start, I couldn’t help imagining they were John’s big, soft ones.
John and I left on the Wednesday morning, saw a few clients, then ended up at a hotel about a three-hour drive from home. He was being professional and careful and there was never a suggestion we share a room. As I showered, prior to meeting him for dinner, I wondered what tactics he would use. I wasn’t far off. My new job wasn’t exactly busy. I’d been able to spend hours per day reading erotic stories, concentrating mainly on the ones about predators. Dinner that night was all about how he and his wife had grown apart, how she didn’t understand him, and how sexually unadventurous she’d become since they married. He pointedly avoided the subject of Dave, but did lay it on thick about how attractive I was. Yes, I had taken some effort with my hair and make-up, but had no illusions on where I fit in the supermodel scale. Even though I expected his tactics, I would swear his compliments were genuine.
My mind wandered back to the only time I’d questioned Dave on why he chose me. That was an eye opener. Although they never admit it to girls, or even other guys, most men weren’t that attracted to supermodels, or those with Dolly Parton chests. They preferred loyal, homely, girl-next-door types. Two people can just click sexually, regardless of their physical merits. When I questioned him on the adequacy of my chest, he said that anything more than a one, on the BSH scale, was wasted. When I questioned the meaning of BSH, he replied, British Standard Handful. Then he demonstrated. Boy, did he demonstrate. He kept demonstrating until we were both exhausted. Maybe, that’s how John saw me. Maybe, we just clicked on a sexual level.
That night, John was a gentleman and escorted me to my room, gave me a chaste kiss on the cheek and went on his way. I half expected a knock on the door later, but it never came I had mixed feelings about his lack of pursuit, I’d been so certain he’d make his move. Still I was confident I hadn’t totally misread his interest and I vowed to be as indirect as possible when he finally propositioned me and I turned him down. I enjoyed the feeling of being special that John’s attention gave me. It was the long dormant thrill of being chased.
The next day we visited more existing and potential clients. I was introduced as John’s ‘beautiful new assistant.’ Enough men smiled at me that I felt warm and fuzzy about it. That night at dinner, I expected a little pressure. I was confused when he called an early night and delivered me back to my room. After kissing me on the cheek again, he turned to leave. I was caught off guard, and, on reflection, felt a little insulted. I had a rejection speech all rehearsed. It said, no, but didn’t prohibit further effort on his part.
As he turned away, I blurted, “Is that it?”
“Is that what?”
“I thought this was all part of your seduction. I thought tonight was when you would make your move.”
He looked a little confused. In that instant, I knew I’d misjudged him. He then smiled in understanding.
“Let’s go into your room and clear some things up.”
We went in and I poured us some wine from the minibar. I sat in one of the chairs while he sat in the other.
“I apologise, Lisa, if there’s been some kind of misunderstanding. While I admit to finding you extremely attractive, I have never cheated on my wife and doubt you have cheated on your husband either. I would certainly never risk our professional relationship, or, dare I say it, friendship, by making some clumsy pass at you like a teenager. Yes, I’m not totally happy with my wife, but I would have to think long and hard about jeopardising my marriage and so should you.”
I was confused. I was so convinced he was a player this new information was forcing a reality shift. John stood to go and I rose as well. He took one pace forward and wrapped his arms around me.
“I hope I haven’t insulted you, Lisa. As I said, I’d be lying if I said I don’t find you extremely attractive, and, under other circumstances, would love to spoil you in that big bed over there, but we should both be very sure first. I don’t want to spoil what we have by rushing into a cheap, tawdry affair.”
He leaned down for another kiss. I closed my eyes and puckered my lips. He kissed me on the cheek again, let me go and left. It was still early, so I hopped in bed naked, rang Dave, and we had phone sex. I couldn’t concentrate though. My thoughts were on the bulge I’d recently felt pressing into my stomach. After I rang off, I masturbated sensuously to the thought of John knocking on the door. That led to a better than average orgasm. I drifted off to sleep hoping he would knock, if only to absolve me on the chronic misreading I’d made of the situation.
As I’m writing this, I’ve just had a revelation. Well, I am writing it to explain to myself why I did what I did. If I don’t understand it, how can I avoid it in the future? The revelation is something I should have known all along. Sex, for women, has four components. There’s the purely physical side—the achieving the release that only a good orgasm can give you. Dave will always win there. After seven years of bedding me, he knows exactly what buttons to press and when. Second, is the feeling of love that comes with sex with someone who really cares about you. A loving connection when they spend two hours spoiling you rotten. Third, is the validation of your womanhood. When your partner walks in the bathroom, sees you naked, lifts you onto the bench, and just screws the shit out of you. The animalistic lust is perhaps the highest compliment you can ever get as a woman. The last element is something Dave can’t give me anymore—the tension and excitement before someone beds you for the first time. A tension that slowly dissipates as the relationship continues.
My confusion is easing. I’d never had all four together. Sure, when I first got together with Dave, we had the loving connection and the tension, but because of our relative inexperience, neither knew exactly how to please the other. I now think that in John, I saw the possibility of having everything. I knew he had deep feelings for me. I could not only see it in his eyes, but knew he would never contemplate risking his marriage and family without it. The tension would be there in triplicate. How quickly would we be compatible sexually? I was much more experienced now and knew exactly what I wanted. John just oozed sexual confidence and must have had loads of previous partners. If we discussed what we both liked beforehand, then we’d hit the ground running. Not only that, but the discussions would, and, in fact, did, build up the tension. I’m getting wet just at the memory of the month that followed that first trip. No, concentrate, Lisa. You’re writing this bloody thing to remind yourself that in the long run it’s just not bloody worth it.
The next day, I wasn’t introduced as ‘my beautiful new assistant’. Nor did John touch me in any way. I think he was worried I was misinterpreting him and deliberately backed off. I admired him for that. The drive home was neutral. I was waiting for Dave when he got home, dragged him to bed and gave him a night to remember, I can tell you.
The admiration I felt for John, turned to frustration over the next few weeks. I missed the flirting, the compliments, and the subliminal sexual tension. By three weeks, I’d pretty much resolved to seduce him. I’d held something in my hands and now it was gone. I had to get it back.
The two girl’s nights in those three weeks, I used to gather information. Two of my former colleagues, I knew, were having affairs. I subtly pumped them for information, which they both unashamedly provided. One even confirmed she only hung on to lovers for a few months until the tension and the newness wore off. I pretended to be concerned they’d get caught. That way I learned much about how to successfully hide things. At work, I ceased researching predators and moved on to how wives having extramarital romances (to this day I still can’t call it cheating) are discovered.
At the office, John didn’t object to my complimenting him on his sharp suits and touching him at every opportunity. I knew I was on track, when one day I was standing behind his chair, explaining something on his computer screen, when I brushed his neck with my breast. He must have felt my erect nipple because he half turned and kissed my shirt bump lightly. He apologised profusely and we returned to work. I knew then that I’d have to take it slow.
As we drove away on our next two-day trip, I felt in control. I wasn’t fully committed to having an affair, but was lining John up so the decision on whether we did or not was mine. I managed to turn the conversation to sex several times. Telling John of the memorable encounters I’d had over the years. John questioned me for details enthusiastically. That trip, I was back to being introduced as ‘my beautiful assistant’. I know now that was when I began to forget where I fell in the beauty spectrum. After all, if a virile man tells you how attractive you are five times a day, who are you to deny it?
That night, at dinner, he was effusive with his compliments and I subtly turned the conversation to where we’d left off on the last trip. He eventually let on he’d love to have an affair with me but was terrified of being caught. Like a good executive assistant, I briefed him on my research on how to avoid being discovered. That tipped the balance, and with a flushed face, he suggested we go upstairs and consummate our new relationship. I shot that down. Overtly because we didn’t have our security arrangements in place, but really because I wanted to control things. Plus, I had yet to fully explore my feelings on whether I could do it for real. Now, of course, I realise I just wanted to bask in the sensuous tension that occurs before the act.
We went back to my room and he kissed me passionately for the first time. It was all I could do to insist he left. I spent half the night masturbating. The trip home the next day was all about planning and more talk of what we both liked in bed. Although I realise now that the end result was inevitable, I still led him to believe I’d not made up my mind. That wasn’t hard as I was yet to convince myself.
For the next three weeks, I battled with my conscience. Should I or shouldn’t I? I knew guilt would be a factor. I put my heart and soul into sex with Dave, but it was clear something was missing. I’d built the intimacy with John so large in my imagination that no mere mortal like Dave could compete. By the time of our next road trip, the decision was made. Still, I wanted to get mileage from the tension.
It was supposed to be a three day, two-night trip, returning on Friday. We skipped dessert on the first night as we both bowed to the inevitable. In my mind, our first time would be slow and sensuous, getting to know each other’s bodies, and finding those secret places. Anything to build up that delicious anticipation.
The reality was very different.
He kissed me deeply while ripping my clothes off. Then he just pushed me to my knees and thrust his cock into my mouth. When I sensed his end was near, I tried to pull away. He had other plans. He grabbed the back of my head and stopped me escaping, while he unloaded in my mouth with a mighty roar. When the shuddering stopped, he collapsed back on the bed, taking me with him. Gagging, I grabbed my discarded skirt and spat into it. I saw the look of disappointment flit across his face. I was going to blast him, but as we lay on the bed, he kissed the top of my head and thanked me repeatedly. It seemed his wife never let him do that. It was a pity I hadn’t swallowed, but that would come in time. No, it won’t, I thought to myself. I calmed down, almost feeling proud.
He went down on me, and I have to admit, the guy had talent. After a while, I felt my climax building. At just the right time he stopped and mounted me. I scolded him as he didn’t have a condom on. He ripped one open and rolled it on. Then he mounted me again. That was more like it. I started to really get into it. John was about an inch longer than Dave and a little thicker. Not enough of a difference to mean much physically, but enough that it was distinctly different. Even with his style of just sticking it in and banging away, it was very pleasurable. Then, the realisation that it wasn’t Dave struck me and I suddenly lost all interest as guilt overcame me. I tried to tell him to stop but he kissed me; so I tried to push him away. That was never going to happen. In the end, I just lay there until he finished.
John rolled off, apologising profusely. He explained I was so beautiful he just couldn’t control himself. I lay there, the glow from his compliments temporarily battling back my guilt, while John started snoring.
In hindsight, it was most unsatisfying. While he obviously adored me, there was no love involved. Sure, he’d pressed my buttons at a primal level; the near rape had proven he was very attracted to me. On a physical level, it was a washout. I hadn’t come close to cumming while he was inside me. Sure, there was the tension, but in the aftermath, I couldn’t even remember what it felt like. The guilt blocked it out. Do the exercise yourself. An hour after your next orgasm, describe it. You may be able to describe the size, but actual details? Feelings must be the most ephemeral things on earth. Overall, the experience was so far from what I’d anticipated I couldn’t help being disappointed.
I think I fell asleep exhausted about 3:00a.m. I’d thought guilt would be an issue but had convinced myself that guilt, and fear of consequences, were one and the same. Therefore, my rationale was that, because the chances of being caught were nil, then the guilt would be minor. That was before my betrayal. After the event, the guilt was nearly crippling. What had I done to my sweet, innocent Dave? And for what? Some third-rate sex. I fell asleep knowing I would never do this ever again.
Have you spotted the flaw yet? Guilt is a feeling too and thus as ephemeral as the rest. John and I slept late so nothing happened in the morning. Between clients that day, I told him of my decision. It felt good. I was back in control. The trouble was John was on the verge of tears when I told him. He laid it on thick about me seducing him to break his marriage vows. A lifetime of regret for less than an hour of pleasure. By the end of the day he looked as pathetic as a wet puppy.
To cut a long story short, we went to dinner that night, I drank a lot to quiet the screaming demons of guilt, then took John to my room. After he’d shut the hell up thanking me for this second chance, I warned him if I didn’t get a little sexual consideration this time, it would be the last.
I’ve desperately tried to find an analogy to explain my actions. In hindsight, extramarital sex is a little like a smoking addiction. The first time I gave up smoking, I lasted a week. After seven days, I thought, ‘that was easy. So easy, in fact, I can give it up any time I like. Therefore, I can buy a pack today, knowing I can give up any time I like.’ Yes, evil logic.
I used the same convoluted logic that night. I’d been premeditatedly unfaithful to my husband. The guilt would be the same whether I did it once or twice. If I did it once and felt guilty for some lousy sex, then the guilt would be for nothing. But, if the sex on the second night was good, then at least it would all have been to some purpose. Yes, in hindsight, I know how utterly stupid that is.
John did learn his lesson. That night he took his time sensuously undressing me, kissing me all over, and firing me up until the tension was unbearable. He licked me to several orgasms until I had to beg him to stop. Again, he tried to enter me without a condom. As drunk as I was, I stopped him. He grumbled that his wife always made him use condoms and what was the point of risking his marriage for restricted sex like he got at home? It became a brief battle of wills. In the end, my horniness won out over my will. Fifteen minutes later, he rolled off me and I basked in the glow of two more orgasms. I grabbed my discarded shirt and put it under my butt to soak up the ooze leaking out of me. This time, I remembered the tension beforehand, matched it with the afterglow, and went to sleep a very happy woman.
We made love again the next morning and it was good. So good in fact, we decided to tell our respective spouses we had to stay over another night. The decision was easy; the reality hard. By contacting my ‘other world’, I was reminded that soon I would have to face it. I already knew that was gonna hurt. To make it easier on myself, I sent Dave a text at a time I knew he couldn’t answer the phone. I then turned my cell off so if he responded it wouldn’t interrupt John’s and my session that afternoon. I would tell Dave I’d turned it off for a meeting and forgotten to turn it on again.
We finished client calls about 1:00p.m., then collected some food from a deli and went to one of the local reserves for a picnic. We ate, we walked, and we held hands; pretending to be young lovers on a first date again. Finding a copse of trees, we made out like teenagers, before making love among the pine needles. It was wonderful. After showering and getting changed, we went down for a romantic dinner. Then we made love again.
It was about midnight, I suppose, when I got off the bed I was sharing with a snoring John. Cum was leaking out of me and I needed a towel. Modern hotel rooms don’t always have clocks, this one certainly didn’t, so I turned my phone on to check the time. I was about to turn it off again, when a message came through. I debated leaving it till the morning. I really wished I had. It was Dave’s response to my news of the delayed return. “Too bad. Going out for my birthday with friends. Ring me any time after 6. Dave.” The guilt hit me like a sledgehammer. Not only had I been unfaithful, but I’d been so distracted with my plotting and scheming, that I’d forgotten Dave’s big day. I wrote him a long text, apologising profusely but didn’t send it. I didn’t want uncomfortable questions on why I’d been up so late. I ended up in the shower, scrubbing and scouring, before returning to bed and sobbing for the rest of the night. John didn’t stir once.
I was a real mess in the morning and angrily turned John down for what he proposed. The pendulum had swung again and all the pleasure was forgotten while guilt reigned supreme. We didn’t talk on the trip home. I thought I’d be able to sleep, but worry robbed me of that. I did, however, lie back with my eyes closed to avoid the inevitable conversation with John. Internally and externally, I knew I was a mess. I could only hope Dave wouldn’t be at home when I arrived.
No such luck. Dave met me at the door. It was Saturday, after all. I was so terrified, I almost fainted when I saw him. I just knew he’d see what I’d done instantly. The darling man thought I was sick. Well, I knew I looked it. He hustled me to bed, where I stayed all weekend, pretending to sleep. My husband even made me chicken soup Saturday night and breakfast Sunday. When he came up to clear away the plates, I pretended to be asleep again. Dave whispered to me he was going out. He thought I was asleep so he didn’t say where or when he’d be back.
I’m ashamed to say it now, but am forcing myself to be brutally honest, but sometime that day, alone in bed, an evil thought invaded my mind. I knew, deep down, I felt proud of myself for concealing my guilt but that wasn’t the evil part. That was the moistening between my legs when I thought of coming back from three nights with my lover and having my husband serve me. I’d read cuckolding stories before and never seen the point. Now, parts of my anatomy did. Before I realised it, I was masturbating, and, let’s just say, I didn’t hate it.
Suffice to say, by Monday morning, I’d decided to continue seeing John. It’s important now for me to understand why. This can’t happen again. I think it was a combination of many factors. I’d survived the most guilt I would ever feel, unscathed. I knew I risked losing John’s attention, and the attendant ego boost, if I stopped. I’d already been unfaithful once, it would be the same if I kept going. John was right. At a risk to our marriages, we’d done something regrettable. Keeping going sort of justified the risks and self-condemnation we felt. All justifiable reasons. In the cold light of hindsight though, I really think it came down to a simple battle between the guilt I felt and the addictive thrill I increasingly experienced from cuckolding Dave. Now, of course, I feel the guilt but can’t remember the thrill.
I made a miraculous recovery Monday morning and worked a full week. To check if Dave was the slightest bit suspicious, I watched his behaviour carefully. I was a little alarmed he didn’t make a move on me Monday or Tuesday. I knew from my research that men commonly stayed away from their wives sexually, if they suspected them. Thank goodness, Dave joined me in the shower Wednesday night, and, well, sexually assaulted me would be a good description. Yes, life was good.
I handled the children issue by not raising the subject of going off the pill like we’d agreed. Dave mentioned it once but didn’t push it. I just told him we had plenty of time and I was loving my job.
The girls at work were gradually opening up to welcoming me into their social circle. It was around that time that Dave and I began to be invited to do things with one or more of them on the weekends and hardly a week went by when one of them didn’t pop in to visit us after work. That spurred me to do what I knew I had to do anyway—make sure no one at work knew a damn thing about John’s and my relationship. After a while, he stopped nagging me to bend over his desk. When I arrived at work, John usually came in to my office, closed the door, and we shared a kiss. That was it. We were even super careful about that, after one of the other girls opened the door just as we broke our clinch.
Coming up to the end of the financial year, John cut down on the out of town trips to concentrate on getting jobs finished and invoiced. That left us with the problem of how to get together. I figured I could ‘work late’ at least one night a week and possibly ‘work’ a half day every second weekend or so. I held John off that first week, having some making up to do with Dave.
I went out with the girls from my old work on Thursday night, for what turned out to be the last time. There were four married girls, two of who had lovers, and three single ones. That was the night the group imploded. Wendy’s husband had found out about her affairs and it came out that Paula, one of the single ones, was the person who gave her away. This discovery was made about an hour into the evening and caused a split. The two cheaters at one table, the rest at another. I stayed with Wendy’s group to pump her for information on how she was caught. Her affair wasn’t common knowledge, even among our group. I only knew after overhearing a hushed conversation. As she was one of my main sources of information on how not to be caught, I thought it important.
After about an hour, something struck me as odd. Wendy didn’t seem to be all that upset about being discovered. She told me the story. Her husband had initially kicked her out, but after two days, had begged her to come back. She’d agreed on the proviso she could continue seeing other men. Unbelievably, he’d given in. The reasons to continue my affair with John were just mounting up. Maybe, even if I were caught, it might not be the end of the world.
I was so fascinated by all this, I didn’t notice the dirty looks I was getting from the other table. To an outsider, it might look like I was aligning myself with the cheaters. I was totally oblivious to this until the others left. Paula came up behind me and whispered in my ear, “I’m surprised at you.” I recognised the danger—Paula, and one of the others on her table, socialised with Dave and I. Someone else to keep an eye on.
From that night on, my research switched from stories about discovery to ones about cuckolding. It was a new and exciting world. I have no idea why it had never interested me before. I rang Wendy several times just to talk about how she was going with two men openly in her life. It was hotter than reading about it, that’s for sure.
The following Saturday, I ‘helped’ John with end of year stuff. He wanted to just check into a motel and go for it. I insisted he take me out for lunch first. A girl needs a little romance. It was after 2:00p.m., when we made it to the motel. We had a leisurely session, marred only by John nagging me for anal. Yuck. That hole is for pooping. He laid it on thick that his wife never allowed it. What was the point of having an affair that could devastate his marriage just to have the same old vanilla sex he got at home? I was strong and resisted his pressure. I was the one in control, after all.
I half woke in the disorientated daze common to afternoon naps. I could feel dried cum on the inside of my leg. That’s why I’d stayed on the pill. That got me thinking about David, and I had to supress those thoughts. It was at those times my conscience troubled me the most. Like a cat to cream, my mind kept drawing back to Dave nagging me about starting a family. I tried to compare Dave and John, but they were in different leagues. Dave was smaller and harder but our loving was gentle. John was bigger and softer, but, after the first few times, had reverted to a rather selfish style of sex. Honestly, if it wasn’t for the novelty of him and the ego thrill I got from being with him, it would be very unsatisfying.
I must have drifted off again and awoke just as dusk was falling. We’d fallen asleep. I looked at the clock; 6:10. I’d agreed to go out with Dave and some of his work friends at seven. I had a quick shower, kissed John, and headed for the door. Outside, I noticed all four of my tyres were flat. Sitting next to my car was John’s. All four of his tyres were flat as well. I debated calling Dave to explain I would probably be late, but couldn’t run the risk he’d want to pick me up. I didn’t want to explain why I was parked at a motel. I went back in the room and John called his auto club. I sweated until 6:45, when the guy turned up. I chewed my fingernails while the first tyre inflated, cursing the kids that pulled this prank. With hope, we watched for evidence that the tyres were holed, but the first one maintained pressure. The auto club guy took his time inflating the rest. It seemed the more I tried to hustle him, the slower he went.
He finally finished and all the tyres looked good. It was 7:04. I jumped in and started racing home. Now I could ring Dave. There was no answer on either the home phone or Dave’s cell. I could feel my heart pounding in my ears. This shit was taking years off my life. The house was empty and silent when I got there. I searched for a note from Dave. There wasn’t one. I guess he was voicing his disapproval by not answering his cell either. I had no idea where he and his friends were going, so there was no point chasing around looking.
That was the first time I realised that John was affecting my marriage. After very little thought, I rang John and reluctantly told him we had to be over. He begged and pleaded, but I was adamant. It felt good, I was back to doing things on my terms. I immediately felt my blood pressure drop.
The next thing I was aware of was being jolted awake by a nightmare. I’d fallen asleep on the couch. In my dream, I’d told Dave I didn’t want his children. The reason was because I’d lost respect for him. He was so naïve at not spotting my affair that, inevitably, it had affected my attitude to him. I dissolved into tears at my waking realisation that the reason he was blissfully ignorant, was that he loved and trusted me so much. I relocated to bed, still sobbing, but sure in the knowledge that breaking up with John was exactly the right thing to do.
Thinking back to that time, I now realise I was jealous of Dave, which made me feel sorry for myself. Why jealous? He obviously loved me far more than I loved him. His love was so deep, it made him naïve. Mine was so shallow, it allowed me to stray.
Amazingly, I went back to sleep. I half woke to the feeling of John between my legs, entering me. That made me wild. I yelled and pushed him away, only fully awakening when I heard Dave say, “Sorry, darling,” from the darkness next to me. Sleep was a long time coming as I worried whether or not I’d yelled, “No, John,” aloud.
Dave was up and gone by the time I roused on Sunday morning. I rang him and was relieved that he’d just gone around to his friend’s house to help clear up the previous night’s mess. I set myself a mission and decided to cook him a fantastic dinner before showing him what he meant to me. You know what I mean. Returning from the shops armed with all my ingredients, I was a little alarmed to see Paula’s car parked next to Dave’s. I was terrified when their conversation stopped abruptly as I walked in the house. What did Paula know? What had she told Dave? With pounding heart, I tried to make conversation, while at the same time trying to judge if either of their attitudes indicated I was busted. Everything seemed normal. You can’t imagine the relief I felt when Paula said my husband mentioned that my 30th birthday was only a couple of months away. By the time they announced that Dave was going to Paula’s apartment to help her with some maintenance jobs, I’d worked it out. They were jointly planning a surprise party. I pretended to be ignorant.
That reminds me. My birthday is next week and it must be going to be a huge surprise party. Over the last seven weeks, since that Sunday, I’ve come home to one or another of the single girls from my old work group and twice to girls from my new work being at home. In all cases, it was obvious that I was interrupting something. Dave has also been late home much more than usual and has had to ‘work’ at least some of most weekends since then. He’s also got in the habit of going somewhere out of my hearing when his cell rings sometimes and I notice it has a new password. I can’t wait.
Anyway, Dave came home sweaty and tired after helping Paula. He enjoyed my meal but then promptly fell asleep on the couch. I was horny but tired so I let him sleep. Any lingering worries I had were dispelled when he woke me in the middle of the night. In the darkness, his style was so similar to John’s that I could interchange them in my head. It was absolutely delicious and I came strongly.
That should have been the end of the story, but it wasn’t. I realise now that my newfound resolve was doomed to inevitable failure. The memory of the guilt at standing Dave up on Saturday night was soon forgotten when I got to work Monday. John treated me as politely and professionally as I’d hoped he would when I first started working for him.
I came to the realisation that without the stolen kisses, occasional gropes when he passed me, and the flirting, my job was actually quite dull. On the plus side, the other girls in the office had finally accepted me and I was making some good friends. I jumped online at every opportunity and read cuckolding stories, but they’d lost much of their magic now I was monogamous again. At home, just about every time Dave grabbed me and demanded his conjugal rights, I closed my eyes and thought of John. That still made it very special. Most of all, of course, I missed the ego boost that came with being pursued by the magnificent specimen that was John and being in a position of total control in deciding if he was going to score or not. In summary, I’d ended the affair because of the fear of being caught and shame at how it was affecting my marriage. Not on my terms.
It was the second Monday after my resolution that I cracked. It was mid-afternoon, just after I’d read a particularly hot story, I quietly locked my outer door and opened the door to John’s office. He was on the phone. I only listened long enough to establish he was talking to one of his friends about golf, before sliding under his desk. His face took on a huge smile as he leaned back in his chair. I unzipped him and took him in my mouth. His face took on a look of bliss, as I looked up at him. Remarkably, he kept a fairly good conversation going for the five minutes it took. The only way I knew his end was near was when his grip tightened on my hair. He turned and pressed the microphone end of the handset into his shoulder as he groaned loudly and unloaded. Judging by the amount that came out, he still wasn’t getting much at home. His eyes crossed in ecstasy again as I made a big show of tilting my head back and swallowing. He gave me a huge smile as I extricated myself from under the desk.
As quietly as I’d locked it, I unlocked my outer office door and walked through the secretary pool towards the lady’s bathroom. My new best friend, Peta, looked up and smiled. I smiled back. I thrilled at the secret that only John and I knew. In front of the mirror, I noticed a small amount of cum had leaked out of one corner of my lips. Well, it was a huge load. I gargled some water, fixed my make-up, then went into a cubicle, and, well, relieved some pressure. As soon as I re-entered my office, John came out, pressed me against the wall and said one word, “Thursday?” I nodded and he passionately kissed me. All in all, it was an extraordinary experience.
The glow definitely faded when Dave got home though. I was in the kitchen, cooking dinner, when he walked up behind me and hugged me. I tensed and had to close my eyes when he spun me around for a kiss. That way I could avoid his eyes. He let go and started chatting normally. A small thrill went through me. I’d gotten away with it again.
From then on, I was back to being the centre of John’s attention. Once again, I felt complete. Thursday, I decided to mix up my alibis. I invented a girl’s night out with my new workmates. After a nice meal, John and I retired to a motel. He again nagged me to skip the meal, pointing out that would give us more motel time, but I stuck to my guns. The same can’t be said about swallowing though. I should have known that after the episode under his desk, John would expect me to swallow every time. I tried to get out of it but he just kept whining that he was risking all for vanilla sex and would have to re-evaluate our relationship. Like a weak fool, I swallowed. Three quarters of an hour later, I again found myself under John with cum again leaking out of me. I hadn’t cum because I’d spent the time looking for signs that John still respected me. I asked him straight. He convinced me he did. To prove it he offered not to force me to swallow again. The compromise he offered was he would pull out and blow on my face. Relieved at the win, I showered with my special scentless soap, kissed him, then left.
As was my new habit, I pulled over just before I got home and put on new undies. I slipped a couple of folded tissues in the gusset. Steeling myself for the inevitable guilt on arriving home, I drove the rest of the way. Dave was watching TV when I walked in. I went straight to the kitchen to avoid looking at him and put the kettle on. He snuck up behind me and nuzzled my neck. One hand grabbed a breast and the other started sliding my skirt up. If I’d let him continue, he would have made an uncomfortable discovery. I spun out of his arms, saying I had to pee, raced to the bathroom, and dumped the tissues. Now I had a decision to make and it wasn’t a comfortable one. Damn Dave. Why did he have to pick tonight to want to couple with me? As hot as the thought of having sex with two men in one evening was, and as much as I longed for the sexual relief my husband inevitably gave me, I knew I couldn’t risk it. What if Dave wanted to go down on me? He knew I loved it and never, ever refused it. Dave took the news that I thought my period was starting early with the good grace I expected of him. I’d gotten out of another sticky situation and that boosted my confidence. He fell asleep with me in his arms. I lay there feeling as horny as hell. In my mind, I imagined Dave was a willing cuckold and was showing me his love after I’d come home from my lover. Five minutes after his breathing slowed, I carefully extricated myself from his arms and used my fingers to generate my own relief.
The next day, I told John about almost being caught and told him he would have to go back to using condoms. He pointed out the smell of condoms was almost as distinctive as the smell of cum. Consciously, I didn’t realise at the time that he’d backed off a little in his affections. Subconsciously, I must have because during our next session, ‘working late’, he hadn’t brought any condoms and I dropped my demands. Changing undies that night turned out to be a wasted effort. Dave wasn’t home when I got there. I waited up until he returned. He explained he knew I’d be late and had taken the opportunity to go out with his friends. By this time, it had been three hours since I’d left John and regular checks of my undies proved I’d stopped leaking. So I didn’t fight too hard when Dave carried me to the bedroom. I got around any lingering taste problems by rolling him over and mounting him straight away. It was one of the hottest sessions we’d ever had and well worth the risk.
With overnight trips still on hold, I pre-warned Dave of another girl’s night with my new work friends the following week. That almost ended in disaster when I ran a little late to leaving home. As I rushed down the path, Peta was walking towards our front door. She’d come for an unannounced visit. It was a problem because she was supposed to be one of the girls I was going out with. She looked a little annoyed I was going out but said she would visit with Dave anyway. I couldn’t possibly leave them alone. The chances of discovery were almost certain. So, I went back inside. Thinking quickly, I decided to tell Dave that Peta had some personal issues and wanted some alone time with friends, which made me change my mind. I also texted John while I was in the bathroom. Why did none of the stories I’d read say how stressful affairs could be?
The evening became a little more bizarre a half hour later when Paula from my old group arrived. She gave me an annoyed look as well. That confused me momentarily. It took me a little while to work it out. Dave had arranged for them both to come while I was out to organise my birthday party. I realised it was very lucky I hadn’t had a chance to give Dave my bullshit reason for Peta being here. He would have spotted the lie immediately. I again gave serious consideration to breaking up with John once again. The near misses were unbelievably stressful.
But I didn’t.
John insisted I ‘work’ on Saturday again. Same deal as usual; lunch followed by motel. John kept his promise and at the end of our traditional blowjob to start the session, he pulled out and unloaded on my face. I’d never done that before and found it demeaning. Still, anything was better than having to swallow cum. When he recovered enough to mount me, I had to remind him to be more considerate as he’d lapsed into his old habits of being a little selfish. I expected when I returned home that the guilt I felt would lessen and the thrill I got from successfully hiding my activities would grow. It didn’t. Instead, I was just paranoid coming home that I’d made a slip that would lead to discovery. For example, one day it was very lucky I examined my appearance closely before leaving the motel. I almost missed the small, matted clump of hair where John’s cum had hit and dried. It cost me half an hour while I carefully washed and dried that section of hair.
Dave wasn’t home, thank Christ, when I got there. I became increasingly sick of the guilt and the secrecy for a diminishing return. It’s quite bizarre, thinking back on it, but I was kind of proud of my efforts at concealment and not having anyone to brag to about it was a little frustrating. Then I had a brilliant idea. I could tell Wendy about it. Taking the walkabout phone and sitting where I could see Dave return, I rang her. She was thrilled at my news and we compared notes about our lovers. I was a little jealous she had a husband that knew and accepted her lover, but she agreed that telling my Dave would be a very bad move. I rang off when I saw Dave arriving about an hour later.
I felt bad that the Saturday meetings with John were cutting into my weekends with Dave, so from then until our overnight trips resumed, I stuck to ‘working late’ during the week. The guilt never did diminish.
The next near disaster happened a couple of weeks later. I was ‘working late’ and we’d only been at the restaurant across town from my place about half an hour. Our meals hadn’t even arrived. As usual, I hadn’t had anything to drink. It made my defences weak and increased the chances of John getting through them if he wanted something I didn’t. He was still nagging me about anal. I was just returning from the bathroom, when I glanced at the maitre d’s desk. There was Dave checking in. Terrified, I retreated back to the bathroom. Luckily, I’d brought my phone so I rang John. When Dave was being led to a table, I snuck out. I’d travelled with John this time, so I had to wait until he could pay and escape as well. It was terrifying, even John was rattled. Dave catching us could have led to his wife finding out about our affair.
He recovered quickly, though, and stunned me by suggesting that as Dave wasn’t home, we could use my bed. The thought of that obviously really excited him. I wondered why but turned him down flat. He then suggested a motel but I was nowhere near in the mood for that so asked him to take me back to my car in the office carpark. He didn’t let me get away scot free though. He absolutely insisted I blow him in his car once we reached work. As I had no way to clean up, I reluctantly swallowed. Yuck! It was one of the least romantic things I’d ever done.
From then on, restaurants were out. That marked a major drop in the quality of my experience with John. By going to a restaurant first, I could at least pretend I was in control and sit there deciding if John was going to score or not. I lost that when we just met at a motel. I stalled John for the next two weeks. He responded by slowly withdrawing his attention at work.
In fact, the next time was unusual enough to rekindle the magic a little. With the financial year over, it was my job to organise the office party where bonuses would be handed out. I’d typed them all up and knew there wasn’t one for me. I’d only been there a few months, after all. Everyone left work early to get changed for the party that started at 7:30p.m. John had suggested I bring a change of clothes to work so I didn’t have to go home. The reason why became clear when he whisked me off to a room at the classiest hotel in town. The venue of the party. Once there, he ripped my clothes off and just did me. He obviously missed me which was extremely flattering.
At 7:30, I was showered and met Dave at the party. After the entrees, John handed out the bonus envelopes. I was very surprised when he called my name last. I was staggered when I opened the envelope and saw the amount. It was twice as much as the other girls got. I almost swooned at the implications of that. Here I was, sitting next to my husband, with John’s cum still leaking out, holding a big fat bonus cheque. It made me feel like a high class hooker. I loved it. If Dave hadn’t been there, I would have taken John back upstairs and given him my ass there and then.
Sadly, the night went downhill from there. I had to keep an eagle eye on John. Whenever he spoke to Dave, a condescending smile lit his face. If he wasn’t careful, he’d give us away. Then there was separating Dave from the hordes of single women that constantly surrounded him, some of them being altogether too familiar with him on the dance floor. He did look good in his suit though, so I couldn’t blame them. At one point, I saw he and Peta on the dance floor. She was practically rubbing her crotch up and down his leg. I stormed over, but as I approached them, he was in the process of forcing her away, reminding the drunk girl he was married. I had one dance with John, but he held me at arm’s length as his wife was there. In the end, I drank way too much and Dave had to assist me to our discounted room at the hotel, where I promptly passed out. I remember nothing until Dave getting back into bed, around dawn, roused me. I ended up spending Saturday hung over. Dave went fishing Sunday and I spent an hour in bed, twice masturbating to memories of Friday. My guilt was getting worse rather than lessening though, so even that made me feel bad. Dave had been his strong, supportive self on Friday and here I was, his wife, masturbating to memories of how my lover had made me feel like a hooker. I felt so bad, that when Dave came home, I begged off sex with him again that night.
With the new fiscal year came the resumption of the sales trips. Just in time too. The Wednesday after the party, I rang Dave during the day to say I’d be working late. He asked the question that should have been obvious to me. If my reason for working late over the last month or so had been for the end of financial year workload, why now? I know I stuttered when I made some excuse and promised not to be too late. Luckily, with restaurants out beforehand, the session was shorter than before. Unfortunately, with no romance, it was unsatisfying.
I found myself pondering. When the excitement of new sex started wearing off with Dave, he’d responded by becoming more loving and inventive. Now the novelty was wearing off with John, he responded by becoming less considerate and more demanding. Dave had made up for our lack of experience at the start by learning what I liked. John didn’t bother. We hardly even kissed now.
Peta was there when I got home but left shortly afterwards. I saw her to the door and reminded her Dave was my husband and spoken for. To ease the mood, I then threw out an off the cuff question. “How is the party planning going?” She smiled as she turned to go, so I knew my guess was right on the money.
John and I didn’t meet the following week. I gave him some excuse but the truth was the amount of angst these late nights’ cost was no longer worth the reward. I found myself at home thinking of excuses to give John the next day.
It was a different story the following week when we left on a three-day trip. The final day of which was entirely fake. Away from home, I didn’t have to keep one eye on the clock or lie to my husband. I could defer the guilt and not have to worry about scrutinising myself before I got home. Of course, miles away from home, we could also go out for dinner and dancing before retiring for the evening. I still made sure John booked us two rooms. Read the stories I have, you’ll know why.
The first night, I accepted dinner from John, then told him I was going to bed alone. I wanted to reinvigorate our relationship by trying to rekindle that feeling of pre-sex anticipation. I also wanted John to have to work a little harder and not take me for granted. He didn’t fight me that much for my decision. We did spend the next night together though and the whole day after that.
Driving home the next afternoon, the guilt was crippling again. After John dropped me at the office, I called Wendy and we went out for dinner. The only purpose of this was to delay my getting home until Dave was asleep. That way I wouldn’t have to face him. I knew from experience the guilt was short lived. I’d already warned him I might be very late. We parted at 10:30p.m., and I drove past our house noting all but the bedroom lights were out. I parked up the street, battling to stay awake after a couple of energetic nights, until half an hour after the last light went off. I snuck in the house and carefully crawled into bed.
We had a quiet weekend. It struck me that Paula no longer visited, and of my new work friends, only Peta still came around after the flurry of new friendships. My life had evolved, pretty much, to two activities. Work and worry. Wendy rang in tears Saturday evening. She’d come home to find her husband moved out and a note to say he was no longer willing to swallow his pride for the sake of their marriage. That shook me up as I’d used her as my rationale that my marriage wasn’t automatically doomed if John and I were discovered. I fretted all Saturday night and on and off all of Sunday.
Therefore, it was easy to turn John down for the next two weeks until our next trip away. That was a quick two-nighter. After visiting clients all day the first day we went to our respective rooms to get ready for dinner. I was in the bathroom, putting my face on, when I heard the room door open. I yelled out, “There in a minute, John.” When there was no reply, I walked into the bedroom naked to see Dave sitting smiling on the bed. To say I was a little shocked was like saying the Pope was a little catholic. I think he said something about how useful the find-a-phone function was on smart phones and maybe went on to explain what he was doing there. I wasn’t listening, I was terrified he’d heard what I’d yelled, then seen me walk out in my birthday suit. He couldn’t have heard, though, as he acted way too normally.
The stress of it all almost made me faint. Dave commented on how pale I was. I made an excuse to go back in the bathroom and sent a quick text to John—after vomiting in the toilet. As I returned to the main room, I heard John’s incoming text signal sound from the corridor. I felt nauseous again. It was that close.
The next problem was the dress laid out on the bed. John had bought it for me that afternoon and it was in a style that no self-respecting wife would wear when away from her husband. It also clearly signalled I was preparing to go out. Thank fuck, the lingerie John had bought to go with it was still in the bag and not laid out. I thought about what other clothes were in the closet. They’d all been bought by John and none were appropriate. They were the sets I kept at the office. Those and two sets of work uniforms was all I had. As subtly as possible, I returned to the bedroom, pushed the lingerie bag off the bed and kicked it under it. While talking to Dave to distract him, I returned the dress on the bed to the closet and chose the most modest replacement. I put it on in the bathroom and looked at my reflection critically. It showed way too much cleavage. I did up an extra button but that just made it look silly. I took it off again before returning to the main room and begged off going to the hotel restaurant. My explanation that I was feeling sick wasn’t a lie. I could feel reflux burning the top of my stomach.
Gentleman Dave quickly accepted my apologies and ordered room service. When he noted I hardly ate anything, we got in the bed and he cuddled me to sleep. He was gone when I woke the next morning. The terror of the previous night stayed with me all day.
The worry continued into the next evening. I went to the restaurant with John, but made sure we acted like business associates. He wanted to go out dancing, but I wasn’t in the mood. I knew John wouldn’t accept another night away from me, so I had the dilemma of where to sleep that night. If Dave turned up again and John was in my room or I wasn’t, made no difference. I was finished either way. In the end, I rang Dave on our home line from John’s room. I knew it was a ninety minute drive from home to there, so I set my alarm for ninety minutes. You can imagine how relaxing and fun that ninety minutes was. John got off twice, once on my face. I didn’t even come close. I rushed back to my own room and was showering when my alarm went off.
I told John we were finished on the drive home the next afternoon. He took it badly to say the least. Called me a prick-tease that had made him risk his happy marriage and family for what? Somewhat vanilla sex for a couple of months. He laid it on thick about the bonus he’d given me, the dresses and all the other gifts. I knew he’d cut me off emotionally again and that it would hit me hard as usual. Somewhere along the line, I promised him one last, special session. I think the implication was clear. Of course, my plan was to delay that day as long as possible, maybe until I was pregnant and ready to resign anyway. In the meantime, I’d give Dave my last virginity, maybe after we’d ceremonially flushed my pills. I certainly had some making up to do with my husband, that was for sure.
I was happy. The decision was made, on my terms no less, and I was looking forward to recommitting to my soulmate.
The Friday night after I got back, Dave had to work late. To make it up to me, he took me to a swanky restaurant Saturday night. Dave sat with his back to the wall, facing the door, as usual. What can I say? It’s a boy thing. That left me facing the back of the restaurant. I immediately saw John sitting at another table. He was holding hands across the table with a girl he’d hired a couple of weeks earlier. The slut was married as well. Listen to me. What a hypocrite. I glared daggers at him. When he saw me; he just smugly smiled. I fumed throughout the meal, all that night, and the rest of the weekend. It triggered every possessive instinct I had.
On Monday morning, I arrived at work, loaded for bear. I gave John both barrels. He defended himself strongly. If I wouldn’t put out, he had every right to find someone who would. He admitted to sleeping with the girl Saturday and said she hadn’t objected when he’d licked her anus. It was his for the taking, he was sure. He softened then. He didn’t want her, he wanted me. I was confused and felt that he’d taken the control away from me. I just couldn’t accept that. I made him promise not to see her again until I’d had a chance to think about us. The thinking took two weeks, during which John became more and more distant from me. That hurt.
I broke and told him we’d try again. I mentioned that Dave had his annual fishing trip coming up the following weekend and would be away from Friday morning until Monday afternoon. This time I insisted on condoms. I was off the pill so they were not negotiable. John joked that where he was planning on going there was zero chance of pregnancy. That caused a shudder to run through me. I tried to book a hotel for at least Friday and Saturday nights but there was a huge convention in town that weekend and there wasn’t a room to be had. It was too good an opportunity to give up on though, so I reluctantly gave in to John’s suggestion to spend the weekend at my place.
That Friday night John followed all my instructions. He waited until after dark, parked up the street and snuck into my house. I had candles lit in the dining room, where we shared a romantic meal, and more candles in the bedroom.
After we ate, John carried me up to my bedroom. I must say that was quite hot. He started off considerately; undressing me and kissing every piece of newly exposed skin. I felt myself dripping, which was a shame as I already knew how this was going to end. When I was fully naked, he laid me on my stomach with a pillow under my hips. He lay on the bed behind me and began licking me with long, smooth strokes. Honestly, if he’d treated me this well throughout our relationship, it might have lasted longer than it had. After a while, his licks extended to my perineum. It was actually very pleasant. I was on fire. By the time his tongue finally flicked my anus the spring was well and truly wound. I came instantly and very loudly.
That was the last I saw of the considerate, loving John. I was roused from my swoon by a lubricated cock nudging where his tongue had just been. I desperately tried to relax, but that’s easier said than done. My sphincter resisted. I suppose some guys spend ten minutes getting a girl to relax. Not John. He just pushed until his irresistible force overcame my immovable object. I have no idea how far he pushed in. It felt like a baseball bat and I’m sure it was hitting my navel, from the inside. A searing pain shot through my bowels and continued as John just kept thrusting away. I screamed but he reached over and pressed my face into the mattress. I thrashed and struggled but his size and strength made that futile. After God knows how many minutes, the pain lapsed to a dull ache as, I suppose, everything went numb. I stopped my useless struggling and tried to think of happy thoughts to distract myself.
I closed my eyes and tried to think of happy memories of Dave making love to me and worshipping my body for hours. My eyes snapped open again. I couldn’t remember a single session. For the last couple of months, Dave had taken me just like John did. Now, as I came to think of it, even those had stopped.
To stop myself following the logical trail this revelation incited, I focused on what I was actually feeling. Ouch. How can anyone possibly enjoy this? It was painful and humiliating. I suddenly realised the hand on the back of my head had relaxed a little. With a heave, I lifted my head off the bed. Instead of peering over my shoulder, I looked in the mirror on the wall at the head of the bed. I could see John behind me and the expression of lust and concentration on his face was scary. I knew at that point he was a truly selfish man and didn’t give a fuck about what I was feeling.
As I watched, his face screwed up and he let out a mighty bellow as he unloaded in my bowels. He collapsed sideways, quickly softened, and slipped out. It was a tremendous feeling of relief. A gush of air and God knows what else erupted from me and I raced into the shower, feeling rage and humiliation. I was ready to blast him when I got out, but he grabbed me and squeezed. He thanked me constantly and told me he loved me. I was confused. His words and recent actions were greatly at odds with each other. When he told me it had been the best orgasm of his life, I felt pride battering my resolve. I told him he’d hurt and humiliated me. He couldn’t stop apologising, saying he’d lost control and I should know he wasn’t a selfish man usually. He kept saying it would be better next time. I didn’t let on that there was never going to be a next time. I’d resolved to end this once and for all, while salvaging as much of my dignity as I could.
He fell asleep with a confused me in his arms. The last words from him were that he loved me and would make it up to me. If he really did love me, breaking off was going to be difficult and risky. Would he risk harming his marriage and mine to get me to himself full time? I couldn’t risk that. No, we would have our fun until Monday morning, then I’d firmly tell him it’s over. If he tried to cause trouble with Dave, I’d threaten retaliation with his wife. If anything, he had more to lose than I did.
I was no less confused the next morning when he left. I finally slept and was woken by what I can only describe as John worshipping my body. He kissed and licked me all over. It was delicious. I came on his tongue but couldn’t relax afterwards when he rolled me onto my stomach. I was relieved when he entered the correct hole and started to get into it. Then the prick had to go and spoil it by reaching over and grabbing the lube again. I told him in no uncertain terms he wasn’t going there again. Shortly after that he took a phone call and announced he had to leave.
The final setting of my resolve was when I realised later he’d been in my vagina without a condom. I’d been on the pill so long and was so distracted by the pleasure of it all I hadn’t noticed at the time. I shuddered at how close to disaster I could have come. I finally knew that no amount of pressure from John would ever change my mind. Looking back over the last few months, I couldn’t remember any of the pleasure or the thrill of the illicitness of it all. However, I could vividly remember the guilt and every shudderingly terrifying time I’d nearly given the game away. No, this would never, ever happen again. With my final decision made, I intended spending every free minute until Monday night thinking of ways to reconnect with my husband. With the decision made I could feel my blood pressure dropping. No more stress, lies, and worry. It was going to be wonderful. I would armour myself against John’s withdrawing his attention when I told him we were finished by booking a spa and hairdressers appointment. I would show him my ego didn’t need him. With my plan in place, I strode into work on Monday morning.
As I went into John’s office, the new girl from the restaurant was just walking out. Her guilty look told me all I needed to know. I was confused. How could John love me, then carry on with someone else? Still, it would make what I had to say easier. John looked sheepish and defensive when I strode in.
“What are you angry about? I said I would stay away from her until you’d finished thinking. I did. You won’t give me what I want, so I have every right to look for it elsewhere.”
All of a sudden it was like a veil was lifted from my eyes. This man was shallow and far from loving me, didn’t give a shit about anyone else but himself. I’d been played like a fiddle. He’d got inside my defences and knowing I would resist his initial advances, had actually manoeuvred me into initiating an affair. An affair in which he’d manipulated me all the way along. He’d used my sense of decency to consent to him to fucking me without condoms. He’d used my disgust at swallowing to get me to agree to him humiliating me by blowing all over my face and, worse, making me think he was doing me a favour by doing that. Which was all bad enough. The fact that I’d been manipulated into allowing him to humiliate my husband by taking my ass in Dave’s bed was suddenly crippling. I saw it all now. None of the last few months had been on my terms and I was nowhere near as clever as I thought.
The humiliation of all the revelations made me turn tail, slamming first his door then mine. That left me standing in the open area, the subject of stares from over a dozen, suddenly idle, secretaries. I turned abruptly and went into the break room. One of the other girls—Sharon—followed me in.
“Finally gave you the ultimatum did he?”
“What?”
“The ultimatum that he gave your predecessor. Give up your ass or piss off. My advice is to tell him to fuck off. I reckon that if you don’t stand firm, and give it up, you’ll end up servicing some of his clients as well as him.”
An embarrassing silence fell. Well, embarrassing on my part. Sharon just stood there with a faint smile.
“How long have you known?”
“Since the first week you gave it up. Hang on, are you really saying you thought we didn’t all know? Surely you can’t be arrogant enough to think you’d kept it secret? Come on, girl, you made it so obvious. You waltzed right through the office with his cum on your lips for Pete’s sake. How unobservant do you think we are?”
I couldn’t believe I was hearing this. I was sure I’d hidden it from everyone. Hang on. If it had been so obvious to them, what did Dave see? I suddenly realised what I’d seen as a character flaw in Dave, his naivety, was now my only possible saviour.
Utterly embarrassed, I headed back towards my office. On the way, I passed Peta’s desk. Not one to hide my head in the sand, I stopped in front of it.
“Have you told Dave?”
She gave me an almost sad smile.
“Would a friend do that?”
“Do you intend telling him?”
“No, he won’t hear it from me, but I can’t say the same about the other girls.”
I looked around at over twelve threats to my perfect life, any one of which could be motivated to blab in the hope of snagging Dave on the rebound. Not being able to handle their judgemental stares, I retreated to my office. I couldn’t wait to give John the news and wipe the smug smile off his face.
Wipe it off I did. It was then I found out he was only the manager of the business. It was originally his wife’s father’s. He immediately went into damage control planning. Typically, it was all about covering his ass and saving his marriage. He actually came up with a fairly good plan. He would tell his wife Dave had gone off the rails and was convinced, incorrectly, that he and I were having an affair. He was demanding money from the company or he would go public. John would pose it as a question to his wife as to whether she thought he should give in to that. That way, if one of the office girls told Dave, and Dave decided to retaliate by telling John’s wife she wouldn’t believe him. With his acting skills, I’m sure John would be able to pull it off convincingly. I briefly wondered if I could modify the same plan. I could tell Dave John had been pressuring me for sex and was threatening to get one of the office girls to out me to him, unless I gave it up. I knew my acting skills weren’t even close to being up to that challenge though. The only thing in John’s plan, for me, was that it guaranteed my job. John would have to keep me around to back him up and stop me vindictively telling his wife. I’d need this job if Dave ever found out. I’d stay in what was obviously going to be an uncomfortable environment until I was sure my marriage was safe, then leave. Maybe I could be a woman of leisure until I had a baby.
I spent the rest of the day plotting. None of the bitches could tell Dave if they couldn’t contact him. All I had to do was isolate him from them. I would cancel our old email account, saying that spammers had discovered it. By getting home before Dave every night, and never leaving him alone, I could intercept any mail and if any of the bitches came around, I’d run them off. There weren’t any company functions coming up so I was safe there. I think my lying skills were up to telling Dave that John had requested he stop coming in to the office and distracting his workforce. Yes, I could do that.
That only left Dave’s cell phone. I could make it disappear, but he could just replace it and get the same number. That number was my Achilles heel and I knew it. The solution my desperate brain came up with was a uniquely 21st century one. I spent the rest of the afternoon online, entering every competition I could find and registering on every website I could access. All using Dave’s name and number. Ever wondered why they ask for phone numbers? A good proportion are just looking to match names to phone numbers. These they sell to anyone that will buy them. Hopefully, within a week, Dave’s phone would be so inundated by charities, pollsters, and general time wasters, that when I suggested he get a new phone number, he’d jump at it.
Convinced I’d done as much as I humanly could, I went home to prepare for Dave’s return. Now that I knew he could possibly know, I watched him like a hawk. He came in and kissed me like normal and rabbited on about his trip while he packaged up the fish and put some in the freezer. My wonderful, naïve husband, I swear, was absolutely normal. I felt overwhelming relief. You know what it’s like when you go to the doctor for some entirely routine tests, then go back to get the results and are nervous about what you’ll hear. Well, that’s what I felt like. The doctor had just told me that I was going to live. After the relief came the extreme fatigue, common when relieved of long held stress. I fell asleep on the couch but was roused as I felt Dave lift me up and carry me to the bedroom. I remember luxuriating in that feeling of anticipation you get just before sex, but I must have fallen asleep again. The next thing I knew, Dave was waking me, saying if we didn’t hurry, we’d be late for work.
It’s been three weeks since I last put pen to paper. I’ve re-read it and can’t believe what a delusional load of crap it is. Since then, my life has descended into nightmare and I’m completing my record, I think, in a vain attempt to stay sane.
For the rest of that week work had been very uncomfortable. I could no longer look on my colleagues as anything but threats. The only exception was Peta, but she was away that week. John just treated me with contempt, barking orders at me whenever he wanted anything. The only thing that kept me going was the thought of going home and snuggling with my Dave.
Dave was very late home Tuesday and instantly picked up on my sadness. He came and gave me a big hug. I broke down and cried. His arms were my last place of refuge from the hell I’d made of my once perfect life. He carried me upstairs again and held me till I fell asleep. It was wonderful.
Wednesday morning, I woke still in his arms. He apologised for not telling me earlier, but he had to go away for two nights and would be back Friday. Of course, I forgave him. He’d become a specialist Aluminium welder and his company occasionally hired him out for difficult out of town jobs. I didn’t like it, of course, but I was happy he was respected in his field and sought after. Wednesday and Thursday night, he rang briefly to say he was exhausted and going to crash as soon as he ate. I went to bed early on Thursday. The next day was going to be huge. It looked like Dave was going to do what he’d done once before—pretend to forget my birthday, then hit me with the surprise.
Even the depressing atmosphere of work couldn’t break my mood the next day. I even managed to smile at the office girls. That was until the text arrived from Dave just before lunch. “Client problem today. Have to stop one more night, see you tomorrow.” I was instantly very angry. How could he do that to me on my birthday? I rang his cell but it was turned off. I knew his company frowned on personal calls during business hours. I left a message I knew it was all a trick, and a very poor taste one at that, then said I’d see him tonight.
I fully expected him to be there when I got home and was very disappointed. I rang his cell again but it was still turned off. The joke was getting real old, real fast. I sat on the couch and stewed; fighting back the feeling of dread that was creeping over me. My desperate logic that it was only paranoia was convincing myself less and less. I pulled out my cell and read his last text again. It was only then that the chilling familiarity of those words struck home. With trembling fingers and a heaving breast, I spun through my text history until I located the one I was looking for. There it was, “Client problem today. Have to stop one more night, see you tomorrow.” It was the message I’d sent Dave after my second night of sex with my lover, enabling a third consecutive night. That may have been a staggering coincidence, but what caught my eye next, proved it wasn’t. Below that text from me, so many months ago, was the next one I’d sent. It was the one apologising to Dave for forgetting his birthday. The fact that two identically worded texts had been sent at the same times on each of our birthdays, took it well beyond the bounds of coincidence.
I felt lightheaded and even when I closed my eyes, I could still see little sparks across my vision. I must have swooned because the next thing I knew it was just after 10:00p.m. I picked up my phone from where it had fallen on the floor, swapped to the received texts folder and pulled up the response Dave had sent after receiving my original lie. “Too bad. Going out for my birthday with friends.” Was that my doom as well? To have a hollow celebration of my big day with friends? What friends? The only one I still had from my old work group was Wendy, and she was obsessed with trying to get her husband back. Of my new work friends, only Peta had showed anything like friendship since everything exploded and even she hadn’t visited or offered a shoulder to cry on for God knows how long.
I spent a few minutes feeling sorry for myself. Then my self-preserving delusions gave up the fight. Dave was replicating exactly what I’d done to him on his birthday. A wave of nausea came over me when I remembered what I’d been doing at 10:15p.m., on the night of his birthday. I’d been in bed with John. I nearly passed out again. No way. Dave would never do that to me… but he probably thought exactly the same of me. I screamed. I screamed until the sparks were back from lack of oxygen. Then I slumped sideways on the couch. I have no idea how long I lay there, running the movie that was my memories of the last four months. One stood out as odder than the rest. When I’d come out of the bathroom naked, in a hotel an hour and a half from home, to find Dave sitting on my bed, the loop strap of his little digital camera sticking out of his pocket. I’d taken no notice at the time. Why a camera? It all fell into place. He’d known all along. He’d used the find-a-phone function to come into my hotel room in the hopes of taking photos for evidence. I hadn’t wondered at the time how he’d got in. He must have been issued a key by reception. Luckily, John wasn’t there at the time.
I remembered Dave’s behaviour that night. After a room service dinner, he’d cuddled me to sleep. So, he only suspected me at the time. No solid proof. Otherwise, no way could he have stood to cuddle me. I imagined him quietly opening the door and creeping in to that hotel room, intending to quietly sneak out after he heard me in the bathroom, before repeating the whole process later. The heavy hotel door slamming shut accidentally, preventing his quiet withdrawal. Was it possible he still only had suspicions and this was all just an exercise to show me how it felt, for the person you love to forget your birthday? It’s amazing the straws a desperate mind will clutch at.
Thus, partially relaxed, my brain remembered both our phones had the find-a-phone function enabled. I went online to see how it worked and tried it. Nothing. Five more minutes’ research showed it didn’t work if the target phone was turned off. If Dave was replicating my behaviour, minus the sex, I fervently hoped, he would turn his phone back on tomorrow morning, send me an apology and turn up about midday. I had no intention of dancing to that tune. I did some more research and initialised another function that sent me an alarm when his phone was next turned on. Then I would go to wherever he was. It didn’t matter if I had to pull him over between here and his jobsite. I was going to drag him into the bushes on the side of the road and fuck his brains out.
I must have zoned out for a while because I was roused by an unfamiliar chime from my phone. There was a map and flashing point on the screen. I glanced at the clock. Nearly midnight. It must be another coincidence that on THAT night, I’d checked my phone about the same time. There was plenty of fuel in my car to drive the two or so hours to where he was working. I zoomed out to see what town he was in. The cheeky prick was in our town. He must have checked into a motel to play his trick. There were no motels in that neighbourhood though. He must be staying at a friend’s. No matter, I could drag him out and either do the deed in the back seat of his truck or wait until we got home.
Suddenly, the map disappeared. His phone had been turned off again. No matter, I’d remembered the street name. I’d just cruise it until I spotted his truck. Which was parked in a driveway, next to a familiar looking car. Must be one of his friends. All the lights were off, but I rang the doorbell anyway. It was almost a minute before a very bedraggled Dave answered the door. His hair was matted with sweat and his face glowed. He was shirtless but in the nylon boxers he used as pyjamas. As I glanced down, I noticed the impressive tent effect that every other time I’d seen it, instantly made me wet. This time, however, the implications were horrific. I slumped against the doorframe. It was either that or fall over. Dave looked at me with a grim smile. I can only guess at the stricken look on my face.
“Yes, that’s exactly how I felt when I found out about you and John.”
I knew my mouth was opening and closing as he led me, speechless, into the house and installed me on the couch. He went into the kitchen and returned with a glass of water and an A4 sheet of paper. The side facing me was blank.
He didn’t say anything as I guzzled the water. Just sat opposite me, with a neutral expression on his face. My mind raced. What did he know for sure? It may have been two or three minutes before I was settled enough to try the only path I had left. Bluff on a very weak hand.
“I… I don’t know what you think you know about me and John.”
With a sigh, my husband turned the sheet of paper to show me the other side. It was a photograph and I clearly recognised an overhead view of my own bed. Dave’s bed. It showed John’s torso leaning over my back, mercifully obscuring his cock buried in my anus. His left hand was gripping my kidney area. The right was firmly on the back of my head, pushing it into the pillow. Dave’s pillow.
Instantly, every argument I could, or ever would come up with, was blown out of the water. I knew everything but surrendering to his mercy was a complete waste of time. I knew that with the same surety that I knew if I held my breath, I would pass out two minutes later. I just dropped my gaze from the disgusting sight and awaited my fate which I now knew was well out of my hands.
“I warned you about him, didn’t I? But you thought you were too clever to get trapped, didn’t you?”
I didn’t even consider answering that.
“For the record, I knew instantly when you returned home that first time. I didn’t need to hear you shout, “No, John”, when I came home and tried to start something that night. I’d just returned from screwing your friend Julie as a thank you for her telling me she’d seen John groping your ass and kissing you in his office. I was disappointed when you turned me down that night. I’d always wanted to fuck two girls in one day. No, that had to wait until I came back from screwing Paula as a thank you for telling me what happened at the bar. You remember that night, don’t you? It was the night you had four flat tyres. I was going to give it to you as soon as I got home, but decided that was a little cheeky. So, I waited until you were asleep, washed up a little, then banged you. I have to say, that as an experience, it’s a little over-rated. Christ, Lisa, were you so self-absorbed you didn’t even notice that I suddenly just banged you like a whore?”
He stopped so I could answer but I was still staring at the floor, too totally overwhelmed to talk.
“Glenda and Jackie were happy for just a grateful fuck when they told me about you proudly walking through the office with John’s cum on your lips. That was a relief. Your old friend Sophie was hoping for a relationship with me after I fucked her. That was the night you were sleeping off your bonus celebration. Come on, Lisa. You can’t have been stupid enough to think you could come home from girl’s nights with different panties on than you’d left with and not smelling of alcohol? Do you think me so unobservant that I didn’t hear you yell out, “Come in, John”, when I came to the hotel that time, or see you come out of the bathroom naked, or the dress you’d laid out to wear? Also, for the record, I know your period starts when your pills tell it to, not three days before. How stupid do you think I am?”
His voice was starting to rise, so he paused to settle down. I wondered if the pain he’d been feeling was anything like as big as that which I was right now.
“I’d like to say it was tearing me up, watching your fear and guilt eating you alive, while I was banging my way down your friend list, completely guilt free. But I’m not that good a liar, Lisa. I’m about as good as you at that. It was one of the things we shared that I always used to treasure.”
This time when he stopped, I instinctively knew he was going to stay silent until I responded. He was calm and in command again. My desperate mind, however, was spinning like a flywheel that had broken its mount—erratically and completely out of control. Slowly, the chaos subsided and focused on one faint glimmer of hope. Dave had let my guilt be my punishment, and in case that wasn’t enough, had had as much revenge sex as he could handle. Thus assured I would never do anything like this ever, ever again, he’d brought things to a head so we could move forward.
“So, we’re going to be alright, aren’t we, Dave. We can get past this?”
Finally, his self-possession snapped. He leapt to his feet and shouted this time.
“No, of course not, you stupid bitch! What part of our relationship ever made you think it could survive an affair? Especially after I’d warned you about John? I consider our marriage ended months ago. This is just the execution.”
He slumped back on his chair and I heard him struggling to get his breathing back under control. That gave me time to think. Not about the future though, that was too painful.
“If you’ve known that long, why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you leave me?”
He’d obviously managed to rein in his emotions. His voice was again deadpan and… cold.
“I’ve seen men who leave in a huff and live lonely miserable lives. Loveless, trustless and alone. I was getting my meals cooked, my house cleaned, sex with my wife whenever I chose and all her friends. Plus, I felt destroyed, so I enjoyed hanging around to see my destroyer, destroy herself. It was cathartic. Plus…”
He paused at that point for a long moment. I knew there was more unpleasantness to come.
“Have you checked our bank account lately or checked our mortgage statement? No, of course you haven’t. You’ve been so obsessed, keeping your little secret that you’ve done nothing else. Today just happens to be the three-month anniversary of when I withdrew just enough from the mortgage account that the house will break even when we sell it. Then I donated the cash from that, plus most of our savings to charity. We’re both starting again with nothing, Lisa. My lawyer says those donations can’t be clawed back after three months. Good luck trying.”
If Dave thought that would devastate me, he was wrong. I didn’t give a shit about material things. Only about him.
“So, if you knew about my affair months ago, why did you only stop sleeping with me in the last month? What changed?”
“What changed was when my new girlfriend asked me to stop sleeping with you. In fact, it was that insistence that showed me what she was really like and made me sure she was the one I wanted to settle down with. She has the same values I have and the same values you used to have. I’ll tell you, rumours weren’t enough for her. She demanded proof you were cheating before she even let me consummate our love. That brand new smoke detector with a camera in it above our bed and one fishing trip was all it took. Embarrassingly easy really. I must say, you haven’t missed one opportunity to disappoint me in the last four months.”
Bizarrely, I knew the blame was 100 percent mine but I was getting angry. I like to be the one in control; you’ve probably figured that out by now. I’d accepted that I’d been played by John, a master schemer, for four months. The fact that Dave had manipulated me, like a pawn on a chess board, as well, just made it all so unbearable. I lashed out to show him, and myself, I suppose, that he would never fully control me. Fuelling that anger was the knowledge he’d never given me, us, a chance. I was written off on day one. It was my turn to get angry.
“Well, don’t try to get me fired and don’t even think about telling John’s wife to try to split them up. He’s already told his wife you’ve gone mad and will try to level false accusations against us. She’ll never believe you.”
I stared defiantly at him, hoping to see some sign I’d got through that hard, controlled exterior. No such luck. He just sighed again.
“Yes, that was a challenge. I think you’ll be impressed with the way we solved that particular problem, or should I say, how you solved that particular problem for us. You’ll find out soon enough.”
We stared at each other across the gulf that separated us. This was the end and we both knew it.
“Why don’t you just walk away, Lisa? Let’s stop now and preserve whatever memories we can.”
This was said in a sad voice that spoke directly to my soul. I dropped my eyes again and nodded. Steeling myself, I stood and headed for the door. Dave beat me there and held it open. I walked through and half way down the path to the gate. There I stopped and turned around. If I had any doubts that the situation could ever have been salvaged, they ended there and then. David was staring after me, eyes glistening with tears. Wrapped around him, keeping him on his feet, was Peta, staring daggers at me. As I watched, she turned a look of pride towards him. Her man had done a difficult job of work, and done it well.
I drove home, beyond tears. I raced into our, no, my house and went straight to the liquor cabinet and drank myself unconscious as quickly as possible. It would hurt tomorrow, but tomorrow was another day. I had to survive the night.
I woke early the next morning to a pounding head and an even louder pounding on the front door. I stumbled to the latter, wrenched it open, and immediately shielded my eyes from the bright light. That’s what saved me from the full impact of the slap John’s wife aimed at my face. Stunned, I dropped my guard.
“Slut! Just because you confessed your affair with my husband last night, did you think you weren’t going to get what’s coming to you?”
Even if I’d not been severely hungover, I would still have been confused as all hell. I figured out later, that some woman, probably Peta, had rung John’s wife, pretending to be me, and confessed to having an affair with John. With my mental and physical guard down, her next slap lifted me off my feet and deposited me on my ass in the hall. Ironic really. Now both husband and wife had bruised my ass. All I could do was watch as she strode away towards the street and her car. Halfway back, she faltered, then fell to her knees sobbing. Three small figures jumped from her car and rushed to her. Two boys, between about five and seven, beat a girl of about nine. They all wrapped themselves around their grieving mother. The girl looked at me with an expression of pure hate. I’d often thought of the effects of my affair being discovered on Dave and myself. I’d even spared a thought for John’s wife every now and then. I’d never once thought of her children. It was a look I knew I’d remember for the rest of my life. The way my mind was feeling at the moment, that probably wouldn’t be that far away.
The rest of that week was just a blur. I was roused on the Tuesday, I think, by the new manager of John’s company. She fired me over the phone. Bugger. Now I was awake and sober. I’d vowed not to do that until the pain had gone.
On Wednesday, there was an article on the front page of the local newspaper that was on the porch. The headline read WIFE SACKS HUSBAND SUES FOR DIVORCE AND DAMAGE TO COMPANY REPUTATION. I guess John’s wife had some hard feelings for him as well.
It must have been at least two months later that I next saw David. At least there were spring bulbs flowering in the park where I saw him. He was sitting on a bench with Peta and John’s wife. The eldest two children were playing on the playground. The youngest boy was being bounced violently up and down on David’s knee. Squeals of delight, and shouts of, “Faster, horsey, faster,” were echoing around the park. Even from a distance I could see the looks on David and Peta’s faces. They would be parents as soon as possible. I put my head down and re-started towards the liquor store.
EPILOGUE
Ten months later.
“Good evening, sir, madam. Welcome to our annual party. I’m Susan Smith, can I ask your names?”
“We are David and Peta Ferrand.”
“Ah, our VIPs.”
“VIPs? Why? To tell you the truth, my wife and I are a little confused why we were even invited.”
“Surely someone told you, sir. You were one of our major benefactors last year. Your loan of capital netted us over $24,000 dollars in interest. That allowed us to provide beds for at least six homeless people all year. You’re here to be spoiled and hopefully gently pressured into leaving it with us for another year.”
“Ah, that’s it. I’m sorry to disappoint you but we’ll need at least some of it back. We’ll be needing a bigger house soon, as you can see.”
“Yes, I can. Congratulations. Ferrand? Ferrand, where have I heard that name recently? Do you have any relatives around here, David?”
“No, none at all.”
“I’ve got it now. It’s one of our clients. Well, you have a lovely evening, people.”
