[Ramesh_Rocky]

HOW MY WIFE BECAME A WHORE

LAST PART

I had expected the distinguished Dr. Dinesh to be a tall handsome impeccably dressed man. I couldn't believe that he was actually sitting down on our sofa in the living room of our third floor apartment and I was playing the good host. Dr. Dinesh was balding, overweight, sloppily dressed and he had his arms around my lovely sexy wife, Sunanda.

I judged men by their socks. If someone's socks covered feet began to emanate an unmentionable
odor, he definitely got a failing grade. If they had holes, the pair did not match and the elastic that
held it over the ankles were worn out, the score didn't improve. Dr. Dinesh failed miserably in my
test. How did Sunanda stand to be near this man.

"Sunanda is a very sexual woman. You are a lucky man," the doctor said. He munched on a tortilla
chip. I mumbled, "Thank you." It was not the answer I wanted to give. I went to the kitchen to fix
myself a drink. "Such a nice beautiful figure your wife has. I really missed it. The way she was so proud of it
and always willing to please," Dr. Dinesh said as I walked back into the living room. "Isn't that true,
Sunanda?" His hand was massaging her breast right in front of my eyes.

"I did my best to please you," my wife replied. The doctor had arrived just half an hour ago and he was wasting no time. Sunanda seemed to have snuggled closer. She wore a knit top with spaghetti straps sans bra and the doctor took advantage of this. His hand easily slipped inside and his fingers were actually touching and fondling my wife's nipples. My wife looked straight at me as she enjoyed the sensation.

This was all happening too fast. "Dr. Dinesh, would you like to take a shower to freshen up from your long trip?" I asked hoping that he would remove his hand from her tits. I wanted to prolong the inevitable.

Still groping my wife's tits, he said, "That's a wonderful idea, Anoop." To my wife, he said, "Sunanda, we shall bathe together like old times." My wife never mentioned sharing the shower with the doctor while in India. I tried to have eye contact with Sunanda but she looked the other way.

"Forgive my manners," the doctor said to Sunanda. "Please ask your husband to come and watch us."

I stood frozen. Never before have I felt such a loss of control. I wanted my wife to resist this man. I wanted to know that she was still for me. He nudged her to say something. "Anoop, would you please watch me bathe Dr. Dinesh?" she said. She didn't seem to say it reluctantly.


I glared into Sunanda's face. She knew that was all I could do. I mumbled, "OK." I felt powerless. This was going to be a very long week. Like in most apartments, our bathroom was cozy. With another stiff drink in my hands, I put the lid down and sat on the pot.

My wife was giggling in our bedroom. She and the doctor were there together removing their clothes. I kept gulping down my drink. My wife entered first followed by the doctor right behind her. His semi-erect pecker gently poking her young well-formed buttocks as they walked in. As she turned on the shower adjusting the temperature, he groped my wife's smaller than average but perky breasts. She submitted totally to his fondling and even turned slightly so that he could access them better. To my surprise, my wife turned her head up and let out a moan.

"Women are more sensitive to another man's touch than that of their own husband's. No matter how
much they deny, they prefer to have a variety of men," the doctor said. His cock had grown bigger. It was
as long as mine but definitely broader in girth.

My wife had an awesome body but being naked in front of this doctor, she looked enticing. Her flat tummy smoothing its way to the triangular patch was a sight that would bring lust even in the holiest of men.
"Would you like the usual?" Sunanda asked the doctor. She did not pay any attention to me. "Definitely," he spoke with a strong accent pivoting his head from side to side, an affirmative gesture in South Asia. He carefully sat down on the side of the tub and opened his legs. As my wife turned off the shower, I studied the doctor's penis, its veins and its ridges. It looked menacingly at me. That piece of meat had been in my wife's pussy at least fifty times from her accounts. It had shown its ugly head again, literally.

"Dinesh Ji I really love your dick," Sunanda said. She was on her knees, her face inches away from his purplish organ. She held it with familiarity, stroking the underside of the organ with the web between her forefinger and thumb. The other hand cradled his balls while her fingers like tentacles pleasured the skin surrounding the sac including occasional forays into his anal orifice.

I felt dizzy. Sunanda gingerly licked up the oozing precum from the tip of his rod. She held the base of his cock with her hand and began sucking on his rod with enthusiasm that I
had not seen from her. My wife never enjoyed sucking my cock and did it half-heartedly only upon my
persistent requests. "Enough," the doctor said pushing my wife's head from his pecker. My wife got off her
knees, bent forward with her hands against the tiled wall for support. Her perfect ass was waiting for his
well lubricated dick.

Well my wife did mention that the doctor would never let her finish the blowjob. He always wanted to cum inside her pussy. At least that was the truth. Seeing his semen on her lips and chin was a sight I was not prepared for. "Um," my wife mouthed as I watched for the first time another man penetrate his dick into my
wife's pussy. I was frozen. Sunanda was enjoying this too much. He was slipping his wide body jet with
authority, grinding it deep into her hidden flesh feeling its enveloping warmth that was once only for me.

Still I hoped that this was a dream. I was not willing to register what my eyes witnessed and my
ears heard: the grunting from the doctor, the succulent moans from my wife, his balls slapping my
wife's flesh as he thrusted himself in and her willful participation. Like a jackhammer, the doctor pounded my
wife. I poured the rest of my drink down my throat, anxiously waiting for the elusive numbness. I was
determined to survive these next days and to get the doctor ten thousand miles away from my life.

I believed that my wife's moaning was an act to please the doctor, to show him that he was a good
lover. Even that hope was shattered as I realized my wife's body tensed and twisted in a fashion that I had
only seen a handful of times in my 5 years of marriage. My wife had a hard time climaxing and here she was going to do just that in front of my eyes.

"Oh, fuck me. Don't stop," my wife said between her moans. She had never talked dirty to me. Her breasts jiggled deliciously as the pounding from the doctor continued without abatement. Being bent over with her legs slightly apart, her body rippled with convulsions at the moment of truth. I had never felt so inadequate in my life before. The doctor kept pounding away.

I wanted to ask the doctor when will he deposit his seed into my very willing wife. But I kept quiet and waited for this event to take place. I was tired sitting on the pot watching my wife being taken by another man that I was actually glad when Dr.Dinesh finally ejaculated. My wife stayed bent over just to humiliate me further with the sight of his spunk oozing out around her labia.

Anoop, your wife wants to show you how much she has enjoyed herself," Dr. Dinesh said with a
laugh. His penis still erect glistened with Sunanda's juices. "Why are you doing this to me?" I pleaded to
the doctor. My wife had turned on the shower again.

"You are taking this personally, my friend. Sunanda was like a flower waiting to bloom. But she never knew what energy was being imprisoned deep within her soul. You didn't have the key and you were keeping her like a caged animal because you didn't know any better," the doctor said. "We don't need you to save us, especially if it means making my wife into a slut," I countered. Sunanda was in the shower and was beckoning the doctor to come in.


"I am saving her and she wants to be saved," the doctor said as he joined my wife in the shower.
The intimacy displayed in the shower sickened me, my wife's young flawless body caressing the middle-aged body of the doctor. She was washing him with a tenderness she definitely lacked for me. I felt I was a nobody.

"Why are you staying in this marriage?" I asked Sunanda later that evening. She wore her sexiest
and shortest black satin robe and nothing else. The doctor and I were sitting on the sofa while Sunanda
prepared us some hot Indian tea. "Because I love only you and you are the one with whom I want to stay," she replied. Her face looked radiant. It seemed that the good hard fucking from the doctor made her more beautiful.

"Your words and your actions are worlds apart," I said as she handed me the tea. With every
step she took, her well trimmed triangular patch was exposed.

"You really are an engineer. You see everything as either black or white," Dr. Dinesh said. He was relaxed and in high spirits.

"Do you expect me to stick around in this marriage?" I questioned my wife.

She sat down. The thin fabric did not hide her hardened nipples. "I wish you would. I always pray to god for that.

Why? Why? Why? I asked again

Because I love you from my heart" she replied.

"Then why are you being a slut?" I asked.

"Because you don't know what a woman wants," Dr. Dinesh answered for my wife.

"Sunanda, answer me. Why have you become a slut?" I asked again.

"She had found something that she was missing from your marriage and you. I don't think she can explain it to you," Dr. Dinesh interjected again.

"Bullshit” I thought.

“Now tell me what you expect from me now” I asked her calmly.

She smiled a little. But she did not say anything. Just excused herself from there and went to our bedroom for preparing the bed. Dr. Danish started again “Well she expects you to let her fly, and enjoy her newly discovered sexuality. She expects you to understand her enormous sexual needs that you will never be able to fulfill. You should understand her needs for verity…….. I mean her intensions of making love to other potential and strong men. You should know that not every women likes monogamy. As a responsible husband you should give her all your love and tolerance. You may have been average in the sex department, but you can give her something that she will never get from anywhere easily. And that is love. She knows that very well too. I advice you to wait patiently for the time when she will comeback to you for love.

"Bullshit” I shouted. Doesn’t she understand my pain and humiliation?

Dr Danish said “look some women likes to give intense pain and humiliation to their loved one. Sunanda is that type”. Why can’t you suppress your ego and enjoy being a cuckold. Do you know who many men in this world fantasies cuckolding. Do you know how desperate they are to fulfill their fantasy?
With that little speech he went to our bedroom.


It was definitely cramp on our queen size bed. Sunanda dispensed her little piece of lingerie that she was wearing and squeezed herself between the doctor and myself. I was ignored as her naked body gave its full attention to the equally naked doctor. Jolts of jealousy ran through me whenever her smooth body brushed against mine.

"I want to be on top," Sunanda whispered between tender kisses. I wanted to turn away, but I
didn't. I watched as she straddled him. She moved up and down riding his strong cock. With every stride,
she swayed rhythmically, tossing her hair. The sight would have been very erotic, if it wasn't my wife
acting like a pure slut.

"Sunanda's breasts are a joy to fondle," Dr. Dinesh said as he was enjoying my wife's eager moves.
His hands were playing with her mammary glands.

I finally turned away and buried my head under my pillow. I tried to sleep but I may have dozed off a couple of times throughout the night. I counted without enthusiasm three sessions of lovemaking. Surprisingly my wife had an orgasm on all the sessions. At last I started crying silently. I don’t know how long. She must have felt that I was crying. She turned me to her side. I saw Dr. Dinesh was sleeping quietly. She whispered in to my ear “don’t cry darling. He is not going to stay forever”. She then pushed her one breast in to my mouth. Then she whispered again…..suck me baby suck me hard. I felt her tight nipple in my mouth. It was wet with Dineshji’s saliva. I started to suck her nipple madly. “Let me help you to ejaculate, I am ignoring you for last couple of days” she whispered again. She then started playing with my cock. Within a few minutes I started ejaculating my entire load in to her hand. After that I don’t know when I was in deep sleep. When I woke she was cuddling with Dr. Dinesh.

As I left for work, groggy from lack of sleep, I glanced one more time at my sleeping naked wife, cuddling the middle-aged body of the doctor. "Good morning," Dr Dinesh said as I walked out of my bedroom.

The next few days were crucial days in the completion of my employer's multi-million dollar project. Friday I could only get home around 9:00 p.m. I made several calls home to my wife but she would not divulge much about anything. When I did come home, I was certain they had started their activities before I arrived which proceeded well into the night on our queen sized bed.

Spells of depression overwhelmed me everyday. The only thing that held me together was the fact that the doctor was leaving in two more days. Other than that, the fact that my wife was able to reach an orgasm every time she was fucked by the doctor troubled me.

On Friday night, I arrived home earlier. As I turned the key on my apartment door, I heard the animated conversations among men. My stomach turned. As I entered, I immediately noticed two guys sitting with Dr. Dinesh. I didn't recognize them but I immediately categorized as they are someone without the best intentions for me.


" I was relieved to see Sunanda had her clothes on, preparing snacks and drinks in the kitchen. She didn't wear her bra though and the shape of her breasts with the protrusion of her nipples was clearly evident for all to see.

"This is Dr. Gopalan, Sr. heart specialist and he is Dr. Anil Sharma a Sr. Gynecologist." Dr. Dinesh introduced me to them. They are from India and they have landed here last night to attend the same convention. We are all old friends. I shook their hands and sat down on the table with the three men figuring out their intentions.
"Please join us for 'teen pati'," Anil said. His sinister moustache wiggled as he spoke. Anil produced a pack of cards as Sunanda placed three glasses of scotch whiskey with water.

"Dr. Dinesh, would you mind having this game at the hotel they are staying I asked Dr. Danish secretly.
"Sunanda invited my friends here and it would be impolite to have them leave. She knew them from India" Dr. Dinesh said whispering. He was shuffling the cards. "Well, alright," I said. I had no idea why I was not putting a fight. Sunanda had probably twenty orgasms in the last five days and in my two years of marriage; I could only remember giving her that pleasure four times.

"Come, join us," Dr. Dinesh said as he dealt me three cards. I had a drink poured out for me and I
gulped it down. "Come sit here," Gopalji commanded my wife. His hands were patting his thighs. Anil Sharma was studying my face for any reaction as Sunanda sat down on the middle-aged gentleman's thighs. He seemed amused that I had become nothing more than a cuckold.

"You're a good man, Anoop," Anil said. He won the first hand. Gopalji place his hand between my wife's
legs right at her crotch. Sunanda didn't attempt to remove his hand and sat on his lap rhythmically
swaying her buttock over his stiffening rod. I hoped her black polyester boot-cut pants will remain on her
throughout the evening, but I wasn't counting on it. "That feels good," Sunanda moaned as Gopalji's
hands were inside her sheer top feeling her little titties. "Her breasts are very bouncy, nice to hold
and grab," Dr. Dinesh commented. It didn't matter that I won the next two hands. Probably I was the only one concentrating on the game. My face had become contorted into a scowl, a look of humiliation and helplessness. My wife looked vibrant. She tingled with electricity, an excitement that stirred somewhere deep
within her legs. She peeled off her pants and her thong and practically jumped on Anil Sharma. Her pussy and her tight butt have now been exposed to these men and news of what was going to take place would definitely spread far and wide.

Dr. Dinesh and Gopalji helped remove my wife's top for Anil's benefit. "Wonderful," he said
before mouthing a good portion of her breast. His hands roamed up and down her smooth back. She,
meanwhile, grinded herself, like a professional lap dancer.

I was a coward. I allowed my wife to become a slut. I wanted to hide as these men casually
and without fear began enjoying my wife's body. "I cannot wait," Sunanda said as she proudly
walked without a single stitch of clothing into our bedroom with Anil Sharma in tow.

I gulped down my second glass of the potent liquor and played another round of 'teen pati'
with the Dinesh Ji and Gopalji. In the meantime, my wife was allowing Mr. Sharma to fuck her on our bed
and in our bedroom. My wife was moaning loudly so that we could all hear as we sat on the table.
Dinesh Ji had a big smile on his face.

"Anil is very clever in sex. He can get women to have big orgasms. I just don't know how he does it,". Dinesh Ji said. He folded his cards and grabbed a handful of potato chips. He flipped a winning hand on the table. Great! I was losing in the card game, knowing my wife was having sex with a sex-god and worst of all, she was moaning louder than she did even with DineshJi. My world was quickly swallowing me up. I hoped Gopalji was terrible in sex. I couldn't take anymore humiliation today.

"Why don't you go, see and learn something," Dr. Dinesh suggested me. Try to improve your skills of fucking your wife so that you can control her more.

Like a defeated man, I stood up and proceeded to my bedroom hoping that the door was locked. Part of me wanted to see but the rest of me would probably be unable to handle it. The knob turned and I saw my wife on the bed in the midst of passion. Anil was penetrating his monster deep into my wife. She had her calves over his shoulder and her pussy rose for maximum penetration. I stood outside the open door watching my wife stripping every last ounce of dignity left in me.

There was no acknowledgement of my presence. I was just an outsider to them. My head was spinning
and I closed the door softly. Back at the table, I picked up my cards.

For no better word, it was a 'shriek' that emanated from Sunanda's attractive mouth. The hairs in
my body all stood on ends. We all knew that she experienced the ultimate sensation magnified ten-fold.
Worse than that, I expected my neighbors to rush in any moment, wondering what unholy act just took place.

Anil emerged like a triumphant gladiator wrapped in my terry cloth robe. The smirk on his face was an ugly sight to see. "She will take some time to recover," he said.

"Well, I hope she does," Gopalji said. I couldn't figure out whether that was a wise-crack or his selfish concern. The cards were being dealt again. Sunanda emerged in a daze. Her hair was tousled and she walked passed us straight to the sofa. She had nothing on. When she sat, her legs were apart. Spunk like molten lava was creeping its way
to the upholstery. The men ignored her but I kept glancing her way. The men were immersed in the card game. The bets were getting higher. My winnings were getting sporadic. I didn't notice Sunanda was sitting
on Gopalji. Her arms were around his neck. The game went on. "Let's fuck now," Sunanda was whispering.

Gopalji was on a streak. He ignored my wife's sweet requests until he got a couple of losing hands. Then they left together to the bedroom.


I folded. I got the worst cards possible, a two, a three and a five of different colors. My wife's moans weren't as loud as half an hour ago. She was enjoying another man's penis shovings its way into her insides right now and I realized that whatever I said would have made no difference.

"Sunanda will come back to her senses," I said. "She has come to her senses," Dineshji said. There may have been words to say or actions to take. As long as my wife wanted these men, I was powerless. I didn't even have enough dignity to leave my wife. Most dangerous thing is that very slowly I have started to like this cuckolding idea. So I played on while my wife was alternated by Anilji and Gopalji. In the end each of them had taken her two more times and they left satisfied.

"Let's take a shower," my wife said to Dr. Dinesh.

I ended up doing the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen area. They went straight to our bed
after drying themselves off. When I finished getting the apartment in order, I went to lie down next to my
wife with the doctor on top of her, sliding his prick into her. Soon I managed to fall asleep.

The doctor finally left on Sunday night. Sunanda informed me that before leaving he wants to talk to me in private. We sat on our dining room. Sunanda started to clear the mesh on our bed. Dinesh ji told me “let me first give you some information regarding your wife. She thought you wouldn't be able to handle it, but now I think you are capable enough to handle this information. When your mother in law was released from the hospital, I told Sunanda that she had completed her obligation. I also told her that her mother is almost out of danger and now she could go back to her husband waiting in America. But as you know, your wife had stayed about a month after her mother returned back home from the hospital. In that month, she came back every night to me, to submit her body." She was eager even to go back to my buddies on Friday nights. She likes to be treated as a whore. I want to ask you 3 questions for the betterment of your future. Your wife requested me to ask these questions because she doesn’t want to ask you on her own. I said Ok.
First tell me that do you want to divorce your wife…..I mean do you want her to live with you or not?
I said “ yes….I want divorce………but I think practically that is not possible because I love her to much and I am very much emotionally involved with her.
“Thanks for your honest answer, Dr. Dines replied. Now my second question. Do you fully understand that you will never satisfy your wife’s physical needs? After sleeping with me and my buddies your wife was transformed in to a different woman . she has rediscovered the depth of her sexual desires. Now she knows what she wants sexually. You can’t even satisfy 50 percent of her physical needs. Don’t get intimidated by my comment. It’s not your fault. You are actually an average player in sex games. But your wife deserves a champion”.
I said “yes……I now fully understand what you are saying.”
”Fine………now my last question. You have to understand that your wife is a human being and not a saint. She will definitely bring her other potential mates here to satisfy herself. I mean….she may bring other strong and powerful men to your apartment to enjoy herd sex that will satisfy her fully. She requested me to tell you clearly that she does not like to go to a cheap motel room and enjoy fucking other men behind your back. Instead she wants to bring those men to this apartment. Do you think that you can tolerate the humiliation and pain you may have when she will enjoy hard sex with them in your bedroom with or without your presence. Do you like to be a cuckold?
“Yes…….I think I can tolerate…….I answered quickly”.
Well….then good luck for you. Another thing…… what I did to you for last couple of days, pl… don’t take it personally. You wife requested me to stay with you in this house so that she could check your tolerance level.
I think you have passed with distinction. She was right you love her to much and that’s why she do not wants to leave you. Now allow me to leave and pl. go to your bed room. Your wife is waiting there and she is very nervous about your decisions.
(END)

[Ramesh_Rocky]

VIRGINITY LOST


PART1

Recently, I was reminiscing with my mother about "That Summer."
"What do you remember most?" I asked her.
"Only everything!" she replied.
"Yeah," I said. " It's hard to forget those things."
"As I recall," mom said with raised eyebrows, "those 'things' were 'hard' a lot!"
I get hard just thinking of that incredible summer; when I lost my virginity with my mom, my aunt, and my cousin.
When I was a teenager, my uncle rented a big cabin in the mountains north of Los Angeles, for a week's vacation for both families. My father naturally stayed home, claiming he couldn't take the week off from work, and besides, he was never the outdoors type. This bothered no one. My mom and dad's marriage was hardly affectionate anymore, and my uncle never liked him anyway.
So that Monday morning my Uncle Floyd, Aunt Barbara, and Cousin Robert, pulled up our driveway to pick us up. We threw our bags into the back of the station wagon (Yes, this was quite a few years ago!) for the two hour drive north up to Big Bear Lake. Floyd, a thinning-haired, forty-three year-old chatterbox, drove while forty-three year-old Barbara sat beside him. Barbara was a rather spicy North American; well-built with short brown hair, brown eyes, dark skin, and a beaming smile. I didn't think much of it at the time, but Barbara was really hot back then. My cousin Robert, also tall, like his mom, sat with me in the backseat, along with my mom, Susan, a thirty-eight year-old, petite, blue-eyed blond, with a radiating smile of her own, and as fair-skinned as can be. Years of ballet had made her athletic legs strong and firm. No cellulite could ever do battle with her. I look just like her, only with a tan.
When we got to the cabin, we were all tired but excited. The house was two stories, with three bedrooms; two upstairs and the other downstairs near the kitchen. Robert and I took one room; my mom got one to herself, and my aunt and uncle, the downstairs room. We unpacked and settled in, determined to enjoy the week, especially since we'd left an oppressive heat wave back home and the cool mountain air were perfect.
The first few days nothing special happened. My uncle busied himself about the house, while my mom and aunt spent most of their time talking about this or that. Robert and I tried our best to get into trouble, but never did.
Then came "that morning" of that summer, when my uncle received a call from work. He worked for the big utility company and they were desperate to find him because the heat wave was playing havoc with power, since everyone was using their air conditioners. They really needed his assistance for the day, and of course, he had to return. I assumed we'd all have to go home early, but he said he'd try and make it back after sundown. He never did. My mom and aunt grew concerned but about eight o'clock the phone rang. It was my uncle. He said he would have to spend the night at home, that it took longer than expected work-wise, but he'd be up the next day. We were on our own for the night: two horny, middle-aged women and two virile teenaged boys.
Only with hindsight do I know how explosive a combination this can be!
By mid-evening, Robert and I were in our room talking about music and girls, although neither of us had ever been with one. I remember mentioning Wendy Bragger, an already buxom brunette that I had been hot for. I'd previously made, at least in the immediate, the mistake of mentioning her to mom who grew enraged with maternal jealousy over my interest.
"I don't want you getting involved with those little sluts from college!" she barked.
"They're not sluts!" I countered.
Well maybe they were, I don't know, but I never found out. My mom's next line shocked me: "If I could afford it, I'd pay an older, experienced woman to teach you." Middle-class financial stress saved me from the clutches of Heidi Fleiss! Fortunately for me, I temporarily forgot the conversation with mom, finished the college year, and was now up in our mountain cabin bedroom talking with my cousin about Aero smith and Wendy.
Meanwhile, my mom and aunt were downstairs talking in the living room. If we only knew what they were talking about! It was mom who initiated the conversation about their precious young sons, and how my mom, naturally, didn't want me having sex with those "little sluts" at college. My aunt was also concerned about us. Then mom mentioned her desire to find an "older woman" to teach me, but of course, hadn't as yet. After a brief pause, mom looked at Barbara and nervously said "Why don't WE do it."
"Do what?" replied my flighty aunt.
"Teach the boys."
"About SEX?" Barbara replied in an exasperated whisper. Mom just looked away and there was another pause.
"Susan...that's incest."
Mom sighed and said "Barbara, don't moralize with me! You of all people."
After another anxious pause, mom grew bold.
"Fine, I'LL do it!" she said. "I'll go up there right now and fuck not only my kid but yours, too!"
Barbara's eyes widened, her mouth dropped, and she motioned to speak but no words came out.
"What?" mom asked.
Waving her arms, shaking her head, my aunt replied, "I don't know, I mean - I just - I don't know!"
"What the hell are you afraid of?" mom asked. "That it's WRONG?" Barbara remained silent.
"Do you want to switch?" mom asked.
"Switch?" “ Yeah. You know. You can do my son and I'll do yours."
Barbara stared at my mom in disbelief for the longest time, until finally she spoke up. "You really want to do this don't you?"
My mom nodded. "I've been thinking for several months now, and I've been trying to summon the courage. Look, Floyd's gone for tonight. And it's not like you haven't been with other men. I've cheated, too, you know that."
"Yes, but this is different."
Lowering her voice mom said "Barbara, there are two young men upstairs. Not boys, but young men, who have never had sex before,. Why don't we teach them so that they don't feel peer pressure, or get involved with the wrong crowd at college, or get a disease. Besides," she said with a smile, "I'm sure there will be lots of pleasure in this for everybody."

Still smiling at my aunt, mom added "They're good looking guys you know?"
My aunt finally smiled, then let out a little laugh and shook her head.
"But, would they even want us?" Barbara asked.
"Let's find out."


"Knock, knock," came my mother's voice. When we turned around towards the doorway both Robert and I were floored.
"Would you guys like to come down and watch TV with us?" my mom asked. We didn't answer. How could we? Both mom and Barbara were wearing only their pajama tops that barely covered their panties. Why they were half-naked we had no idea. Robert and I couldn't get enough of my mom's, athletic, creamy white thighs and calves, and his mother's long, lean, darker legs, but they were quite a contrast, and an appealing one, too. Our mom's stood their encouraging us to come downstairs, and as Robert and I walked past them, we were both very quiet as our moms followed us down. We all settled in the living room; Robert and I on the chairs and our moms on the couch, silently watching the tube. Occasionally, though, Robert and I glanced at both women's legs, not tucked under them but showing in all their glory; we could even see their panties! In only shorts and tee shirts, Robert and I had to constantly move in our seats so as not to expose our embarrassingly hard cocks. There was so much tension in the room.
"Robert!" my mom snapped, and we both nearly jumped with fear that someone had spoken up.
"Do you have any girlfriends?" He seemed shocked, laughed a nervous laugh, glanced at Barbara, and said no. After a little pause mom asked "Have either of you boys ever seen a naked woman - outside of a magazine?"
Looking down, nervously we said no. Mom then picked up the remote, turned off the set, turned to Barbara and said "I think it's time these two saw a real naked woman. Don't you Barbara?"
Equally nervous, a wide-eyed Barbara looked at my mom and replied, "Oh! Yes! Of, course." We didn't know who was more scared, us or Barbara.
Mom then stood up and slowly unbuttoned her top, all the while smiling as her eyes darted from me to my cousin and back. She was growing more confident as she knew she was in charge. Mom then removed the top letting it fall to the floor. Her perky breasts and hard black nipples were begging for a mouth to suck on them. All the while keeping her eyes on us, she then lowered her panties, letting them drop to the floor, to reveal her blond bush. Then giving us a shit-eating grin, she turned around to expose her full, creamy ass, giving it a little wiggle. God, what a sexy ass she had! This blond was all booty! Robert and I were breathing heavily, devouring her with our eyes, a little less nervous now.
"Go on Barbara," mom said. My aunt was far more hesitant and couldn't even look at us as she stood up and unbuttoned her top, slowly, painfully so, finally letting it fall to the floor. It was sure worth the wait!

"Wow!" Robert said. Barbara was shocked that her own son responded in this way to her breasts. She needn't have. My aunt's tits were much larger than mom's, sagging just a little but really nice, with big round, brown, acorn-like nipples. Jesus, and to think my uncle had cheated first! My aunt's hands were slowly moving towards her panties and her eyes seemed to say "How can I get out of this?" Too late. She pulled down her panties slowly, exposing her dark bush to us. As her panties hit the floor, I was breathing heavily and looking at my cousin, he was licking his lips!
Standing next to Barbara, mom turned her around showing us her ass. Those mocha cheeks looked good! Then turning her around again Robert and I stared at our naked moms. Barbara was trying to smile but was having such mixed emotions. My mom was smiling alright and I noticed something else, too; her cunt lips were protruding out and were quite wet!
Then she and Barbara sat down on the couch and mom said "Okay, your turn!" My cousin let out a nervous laugh while I just looked away. I was scared. Mom then looked me in the eye and said "Take your shirt off. You too, Robert." I slowly did as did my cousin. As we stood up to remove our shorts, Mom looked at our crotches which were bulging with huge wet spots. Mom's eyes twinkled and she smiled that devilish grin of hers.
"Now your shorts," she said.
Then we quietly removed our shorts. Our young pricks were obscenely making a tent of our jockey shorts. Mom didn't have to say anything as both she and Barbara were all wide-eyed with excitement at what we were covering up. Without anything being said, Robert and I pried apart the waistbands and slid down our shorts, letting our young, hard teenage cocks bounce out into the air, bobbing up and down freed from their confinement. There we stood, two giggling, nervous adolescents with our cocks raised high in the air. At the time I was only about five inches while Robert was an inch longer and thicker. My mom's eyes bulged, as she caught her breath. Her mouth opened and she licked her lips as she looked over our hard, young pricks. I even noticed my aunt checking out our tools with less hesitancy and more desire in her eyes. "You boys have really grown up," mom said with a smile.
"And out," my aunt added.
The sexual tension in the room was massive. While looking at our naked moms, my cousin could barely contain himself and began tugging on his dick, which was getting harder as precum oozed out even more. Mom broke away her stare, looked at me and said "Go on." I, too, started playing with my cock, and as Robert and I fisted our cocks rock solid and slick with precum, mom couldn't control herself. She spread her legs and began rubbing her clit, which was soaked and protruding outward, beckoning us. Even my aunt was licking her lips as she watched us pump our hard pricks. She was kneading her breasts with one hand, while the other found her own wet, hairy cunt. Me and my cousin were breathing heavily while we masturbated to the sight of our moms sitting there rubbing their clits; and they, too, were panting and moaning at the sight of their own sons fisting their young cocks. Two horny and attractive middle-aged women and two young, ripe, teenaged boys were about to make history and fuck each other silly!
"Oh, my, Barbara. They sure are big," mom moaned while frigging her cunt.
"Um, hmm," Barbara moaned in reply.
Mom then snapped out of her clit-rubbing dream, and stood up surprising us all.
"Come sit down here on the couch," she told us. Barbara stopped rubbing herself, too, as she stood up for us. God, her fingers were so wet! As we sat down mom gently said, "We're all going to have sex. You're both going to become men now." Then with a smile she asked "You ready?"
"Um, yeah, okay," we replied, a little uncertain. Mom then knelt down between Robert and I and took my cock in her cunt juice-slicked hand and stroked it a few times.
"My own son's hard-on," she said smiling at me, tugging my dick. "Wow!"
She then lowered her head and took me in her mouth. I was shocked at first and I thought Robert's eyes would bulge out of his head as he watched open-mouthed as my cock disappeared down mom's throat. She went up and down a few times, coating my shaft with her saliva. It felt incredible! Her tongue was so hot and slick as she took me to the root and back up again. I began breathing heavily, loving every bit of it, but then she took me out of her mouth and turned her attention to Robert. With her left hand fondling my wet cock, her right hand took hold of Robert's cock and she then lowered her head and took his brown cock into her mouth.
Meanwhile, my aunt was just standing there naked, watching her sister-in-law suck her own son's cock.
"Barbara, come here," mom snapped at her. "Look how big he is," she said holding Robert's cock up. Mom then moved over and motioned for Barbara to kneel down. She did and stared at the large, thick organ. She then took her son's cock in hand and gently began pumping it.
"Do you like that?" my aunt asked softly.
"Yeah mom. Suck on it, like Aunt Susan did," Robert replied.
Then Barbara gave her son a rather slow, insecure blowjob. She licked and sucked slowly, but Robert enjoyed it anyway.
Meanwhile, my mom had taken my cock back into her mouth and was now really going at it, sucking and slurping and fisting until I couldn't stand it any longer. I began groaning louder and louder as I approached orgasm, and quickly grabbed mom's head and started shooting my cum into her mouth. After I finished cumming, mom let it run down and out of her mouth and over my cock, as she continued sucking on my cum-slick, joystick, occasionally swallowing more and more of my cum down her hungry throat until she swallowed every drop. What a treat to have your first blowjob, and from a real pro!
Just then, Robert started unloading into Barbara's mouth. Her eyes got really big as she felt her son's cum go shooting into her mouth. She then closed them and started swallowing her own son's juice, sucking and fisting every last drop down her throat.
After being sucked dry by our moms, the four of us were all smiles.
"You boys taste good," mom said. Robert and I were in heaven. I'd already experienced an orgasm through masturbation, but nothing like this! Just then, mom stood up and told us to follow her upstairs to her room. That was quite a sight, walking upstairs behind mom's ass! I'd never seen anything quite like it, and glancing at Robert he was literally drooling at the sight of those creamy cheeks. Too bad Barbara brought up the rear, so to speak.


When we entered mom's room, she fell on her bed and motioned for Barbara to join her while we young guys just stared at them.
"What now?" Robert asked.
"The best is soon to CUM," mom said with beady eyes. Barbara giggled at the suggestion. Then mom spread her legs to flash us her wet cunt. Looking at me she said "You're going to put your cock in HERE. It's gonna feel soooooo good!"
"We're gonna fuck?" Robert asked rather matter-of-factly.
"Yep," my mom replied. "We're gonna fuck and make men of you."
Barbara turned her head over to mom and whispered "I'd really like to be eaten first."
Robert and I had no idea what she meant. Eaten? Why did she want to eat now?
"Maybe later," mom replied. "Let's just do this and get it over with. Besides, I'm drenched by the thought!"
I guess anticipating your own son fucking you, while you took his virginity was foreplay enough! Then noticing my newly-erect cock, mom told me to come on the bed and get on top of her. As I did she held out her arms and hugged me as my cock nestled near her pussy. As I held her, she then reached down and took hold of my erection with one hand, while trying to maneuver my body to insert it inside her. Once I was at the entrance to her cunt, mom said "Okay, push forward." I did.
If I thought her mouth was incredible, this was sexual Disneyland. All of a sudden, wet heat blanketed my teenage prick as I pushed further inward, inch by inch, until I was in as far as I could go. At that point instinct took over as I pulled back a few inches and thrust forward again. I repeated the action until I began developing a rhythm and started thrusting in and out, in and out; faster and faster, harder and a little harder. It felt soooooo good and I wasn't the only one who thought so. Mom was moaning with each thrust of my cock and while I grunted and groaned, she got vocal.
"Oh, yes honey! Ooooooohhh, yeeeaaahh! That's it, that's IT! Oh god, yes! Fuck me! Oh yes, baby, fuck me! Fuck my! Momy. Ooooohh god, fuck mommy! Fuck your mommy GOOD!"
Meanwhile, right next to us was my cousin, atop his own mom banging away at her cunt even harder than I was Robert was moaning and saying "Yeah! Yeah!" over and over while my aunt cried out with each powerful thrust of his cock. Barbara said not a word except this loud, incredible cry with each stroke of his hefty cock. The room was fill full with the sounds of fantastic sex! The big bed really shook as Robert and I grunted and groaned with each thru - first, - first in and out of our moms' cunts, while they cried out in pleasure over this fabulous act of deflowering incest! My cousin and I lasted a lot longer this time, giving our moms' cunts a good workout. I was getting near to shooting and could feel the tension building up in my cock. Frantically, I hammered my prick in and out of mom until I lost it and cryi ng out I beg an shooting my seed into her.
"Oh yes baby!" mom cried out. "Give mommy your cum! Oh yeah! Cum in me!"
I just laid on top of her feeling my twitching cock shoot more and more sperm into her hot, wet cunt. I felt hot and wet myself as perspiration covered me; my body heat meshed with mom's, and my hot cock shooting hot cum inside her even hotter cunt! Mom just held me and stroked my blond hair. Her baby had just made a man of himself in the same hole he came out of all those years before!
Meanwhile I heard Robert literally growling and Barbara whimpering, as he came inside her.
"Oh yeah, Robert," mom moaned in my ear. "Fuck your mom! Give her your sperm! You're mommy's STUD now!" Hearing those words, I noticed that my own cock was getting hard again, while still inside her cunt!
Mom motioned for me to get off her and I pulled out, newly hard but happy and satisfied. I then collapsed by her feet as Robert got off of Barbara and sat on the corner of the bed catching his breath.
"You're men now!" mom proclaimed. "How was it Barbara?"
"Mmmm, nice," she moaned.
(TO BE CONTINUED)

[Ramesh_Rocky]

VIRGINITY LOST
2ND PART



"I'll bet," mom replied staring at Robert's still-hard cock. I didn't fully realize it then, but my own mom was a size-queen! Wishing to take advantage of the moment, mom asked Robert if he'd like to fuck her. I was a little surprised but Robert said "Yeah!" and jumped to his feet. As I moved out of the way, my cousin got between mom's legs, and now knowing what to do, aimed his larger cock at mom's very wet cunt. As he entered, they both moaned in unison. Barbara and I watched as her son fucked my mother. And they were both loving it! I had a hard cock of my own and seeing that I was just standing there with nothing to do but watch, I glanced at my aunt who smiled, spread her legs, and nodded her head like “yeah come, come,come”. All of a sudden I felt a whole lot better! Two could play at that game! Time to fuck your mom, too!
I got in-between my aunt's legs and lowered my body down on top of her. She didn't need to guide me home as I now knew what to do. I smiled at Barbara who smiled back. I then slid my dick into her well-soaked snatch as Barbara held me. I then fucked my aunt with wild-abandon, loving this pussy-go-round in mom's bedroom. As I thrust away in Barbara's cunt, I could hear mom crying out as Robert pounded his ample cock in and out of her cunt. As my aunt held me, she lifted her body up to meet my thrusts, giving back what I gave her. With each thrust of my cock, Barbara cooed in my ear. I started kissing her cheek, and uncontrollably I moved my lips to hers and began kissing my aunt. She seemed surprised but responded to my kisses with her tongue. It must have seemed weird; a teenage boy passionately kissing his forty-three year-old aunt, while his young cock pounded in and out of her mature cunt, but we were exchanging all sorts of fluids, from our tongues and saliva, to my precum leaking into her cunt. While we were lost in our own ecstasy, mom and Robert were really fucking up a storm.
"Harder, Robert! Harder!" Mom screamed as my cousin grunted like an animal as he fucked mom. "Oh! Oh! Oh!" mom cried, as she came.
Meanwhile, as I thrust away, nearing orgasm, my aunt dropped her hands to my asscheeks and turning away from our kisses, began moaning loudly. She was pulling me into her as if using my body to fuck herself as she, too, neared orgasm. As I groaned loudly, wildly, I couldn't hold out any longer and unloaded deep into my aunt's cunt. As I continued to thrust away, Barbara gasped that she was cumming and continued gasping as my thrusting cock gave her the last drop I had.
After a moment of trying to catch our breath, my cousin and I removed out sweaty bodies from our sweaty aunts. Robert collapsed in-between our moms while I fell at everyone's feet.
"You boys are good, aren't they Barbara?" mom said.
"Definitely," my aunt replied as she felt her cum-soaked pussy.
"Well, how do you guys like the world of sex?" mom asked us.
Robert and I laughed. "Pretty good," he said. I agreed. As we rested a bit, we talked about little things, but with two teenaged boys in the same room with two naked women lying in one bed, little things soon became big things!
"You want more, huh?" mom snickered. We laughed. Emboldened, Robert and I took hold of our cocks and started pumping them. Yeah, we wanted more! Our moms laughed with dancing eyes. They wanted more, too.
"Let's try this," mom said. She then told me to step forward and sitting up, she took hold of my cock and brought it to her mouth. She got it all slick, and then removing my cock from her mouth, got up on the bed, on all fours, turned to me and said "Get behind me and inch your way up my rear end."
WHAT? Robert and I were shocked. Could you do that? Even Barbara seemed surprised.
"Go on," mom told me. "Work it up my ass. Just go slowly." As I got behind mom, I spread her luscious ass cheeks and saw that tiny, pink, puckered hole. It was quite a contrast compared with her gaping, used cunt. As I placed my cock head at her opening, I almost dreaded putting it in because I was afraid I'd hurt her. But as I pushed in, I got the cock head in and slowly I inched my way inside her anus. It was hot but tight, real tight, compared with her cunt. I liked it!
Realizing all was well, Robert turned to his mom and asked if he could put his cock up her ass, too. Barbara didn't seem too willing, but mom said "Let's teach them everything!" Barbara relented and moved herself next to mom and got on all fours for her son to fuck her ass.
"Easy Robert, easy!do this with extreme care other wise I could get heart " she admonished him, fearing his excitement would be anything but for her!

Meanwhile, I was now banging away in mom's ass, holding her by the waist and hips, grinding my cock as deep up her anal tract as I could go.
"Oh yeah!" mom moaned. "Mmmm, yeah!" I was actually surprised. She really liked this! But so did I, so I kept on fucking, grunting my own pleasure. Mom reached down under her and started playing with her clit, rubbing it hard, and moaning harder while I continued to thrust my cock in and out. At the same time, Barbara had relaxed and was starting to enjoy the ass fuck she was getting from my cousin's large cock. Both Robert and I began to time our thrusts so that we fucked in and out in unison. It was like a game but it was fun, causing us to giggle as we slid our cocks in and out of our moms' assholes.
"Stop! Both of you!" mom said, breaking our rhythm. She then told us to switch places. Wow! My cousin and I thought. Mom sure was kinky! Barbara said nothing as Robert pulled out of her. As I pulled my dick out of mom's ass, I was really intrigued by the sight of her anal opening spread wide apart from my cock. Robert and I, with our soiled, hard cocks bobbing in the air, scampered to change places. When I got behind my aunt's up-turned tail,
I noticed her anal opening spread really wide thanks to my cousin's girth. I also became aware of the contrast between my mom's full, fleshy asscheeks and pink opening, with that of my aunt's darker, slimmer cheeks, and even darker, brown opening, and brown yet dripping clit. Barbara had been enjoying her anal fuck after all.
A little afraid of disapproval by my aunt, I touched her tentatively as I placed my not-so pink anymore cockhead against the brown opening. I entered slowly feeling her heat. She didn't mind any of this at all, I figured, so I shoved in to the root. Then I started fucking, building up my own rhythm. I held her waist as I thrust in and out faster and faster, really beginning to love the feeling of my cock in her ass. At that moment I knew that anal sex was to become my favorite. As I continued fucking Barbara, I noticed her right cheek was laying flat on the bed, and I saw a glazed look in her left eye, as her mouth was open, licking her lips while cooing again, with each thrust of my cock, just like when I fucked her cunt. This gave me more confidence as I banged her harder and faster, trying to get as much pleasure as I could and happy that I was giving my aunt pleasure, too. So much so that Barbara began playing with her clit while I fucked her brown hole, her cooing growing louder along with my groaning, both of us nearing orgasm.
While Barbara only moaned, my mom was a bit more vocal.
"Oh, yes! Fuck my ass!" she cried out to Robert. "Oooohhhh, I love your big cock up my ass! Make me cum!" Robert was frantically pounding mom's butt, and the sight of his long, thick brown dick, going in and out of her pink anus was quite a sight. Her clit was distended and dripping as she was cumming yet again. It turned me on so much that I grabbed Barbara's hips and really started putting it to her, thrusting harder and faster, determined to fuck her ass off. Barbara began crying out and then let out a yelp and a gasp.



"Ahh, ahh, ahh!" she cried. "Oohh! Oohh! Oooohhhh!" Barbara shook a little as she came, and feeling on the verge of cumming again, I wildly thrust in and out a few more times before letting out a yell and shooting my sperm as deep up my aunt's ass as it would go. I then noticed Robert, holding my mom's waist real tight to him and he just stood there not humping at all but with his dick buried all the way up her ass. I saw his sweaty face, flushed with ecstasy and I knew then that he was unloading everything he had up mom's ass.
Totally drained, Robert and I pulled our cocks out of our aunts' assholes, and again I was intrigued by the sight of a wide-open asshole. Barbara's was a fabulous sight! As mom and Barbara collapsed on the bed, mom told us to go in the bathroom and clean up. When we reentered the room, mom said "You boys learned real fast, tonight!"
"You're not kidding!" Barbara replied.
It was getting late and our mom's were tired, wanting only to take a nice, hot bath and go to sleep. Robert and I were rather disappointed.
"Can we do it again tomorrow?" I asked. Barbara just looked away like I had to be kidding.
"Your uncle will be up tomorrow. Remember?" mom snapped. Oh well, I thought. We hugged our moms goodnight, all of us saying "Thank you," and "I love you." At that moment we really did.
Later in our room, Robert and I replayed the highlights of the evening: "I loved getting my cock sucked on; What did you like better, fucking a cunt or asshole?; Your mom's cunt was SO WET!; I know, and your mom's asshole was GREAT!" We slept real good!

(TO BE CONTINUED)

[Ramesh_Rocky]

VIRGINITY LOST
LAST PART


The next morning Robert and I awoke early and with raging hard-ons. As we tugged them under our blankets, we fretted about not getting anymore sex.
"Hey, let's go find our moms before my dad gets here," he said.
"Great," I replied.
When we tried sneaking into my mom's room, she wasn't there. We figured they were downstairs so, very naked with cocks high and hard, we headed downstairs hoping for an early morning fuck. But just as we got downstairs we heard my uncle's voice coming from the kitchen. Fuck! we thought. He was already here! In a panic, we quickly flew upstairs to get dressed. When we came downstairs, Floyd greeted us warmly while our mom's looked a little concerned. There eyes were almost begging we wouldn't say or do anything stupid. If they'd only known we almost did! We soon all went about our business for the day. I've often wondered what might have happened had Robert and I actually come into the kitchen naked and hard. What would Floyd's reaction have been if he'd seen us and known that in his absence, his own wife and sister had fucked their teenaged sons the night before! We would have all been lynched!
During our last couple of days at the cabin, I kept pestering mom in private. "Can't we get away from Uncle Floyd?" She'd just let out a sigh and look away. She had really opened a can of something or other. Two teenage boys with raging hormones, and raging cocks, looking for some maternal comfort. On our last full day there, mom tried to work something out. With my uncle fidgeting around the house, mom took Barbara to one side and they began whispering.
A few minutes later I heard my aunt say "Come on Robert!", and mom then informed Floyd "We're all going to go out for awhile."
"Where?" he asked.
"For a walk," she replied.
"Not inviting me?" he replied.
"Well, it's just that you're busy and -"
"Okay, okay," he said and then laughed.
Once out the door and heading into the woods, I asked mom where we were going.
"To a secluded spot I remember seeing the other day," she answered.
"Why?" Robert asked.
"Well, we thought you might like to have your cocks sucked on again," she replied.
Robert and I got all bug-eyed excited, while mom smiled and shook her head, and my aunt giggled. A few minutes later mom pointed out an area that had a big fallen tree. There was no way we could fuck out there with all the sticks and dirt but in the warm air, both Robert and I undressed, stripping out of our shorts and underwear to the approving eyes and smiles of our moms.
We were young but athletic and in good shape, and as we stripped for mom and Barbara, our cocks rapidly grew hard.
We placed our shorts on the tree and sat down on them to try and get a little comfortable. Both our mom's were in jeans, and simply knelt down on their knees in front of us; mom in front of me, and Barbara in front of Robert. Mom took my hard cock in hand, caressing it and playing with my balls.
"My son has become such a MAN," mom moaned while feeling my cock. "A man. A STUD! They're BOTH studs, huh Barbara."
"Mmm hmm," Barbara replied despite a mouthful of her son's cock. Mom then took my cock in her mouth, sucking the head, licking the shaft, licking my balls, and even taking them into her mouth. Mom left a trail of saliva dripping from the cock head down to my sparsely-pubed root. Both Robert and I loved every minute of receiving our maternal head, but then mom took her mouth off of my cock and nudged Barbara who was busy licking and kissing her son's cockhead.
"Let's switch," mom said.
Mom crawled in front of Robert to get at his cock while Barbara flashed me a smile and dropped to her knees, took my cock in hand and began licking mom's saliva off of it. She nibbled on my cock, licking the shaft, kissing the cockhead, taking it in her warm mouth, sucking me like a lollipop as her hand pumped the glistening shaft.
Meanwhile, mom was really going to town on Robert's prick. Her mouth was stretched wide thanks to his girth, as she deep throated him, frantically working her mouth up and down the dark shaft like the pro she was. Neither Robert nor I could hold out much longer and began moaning our approval over these wonderful blowjobs. Finally Mom took her mouth off of Robert's cock, and with it aimed at her face, began to fist him rapidly.
"Ooooh, yeah!" mom moaned. "Come on, Robert! Cum for Auntie Susan! Cum!
Cuuuumm! Give me all your sperm from your BIG COCK!"
He was groaning loudly nearing orgasm, as was I since Barbara was fisting me while moaning around my cockhead in her mouth. As I moaned louder, holding Barbara's head, she moaned with me, as I was about to cum down her throat.
Finally, Robert and I screamed as the intensity of our orgasms hit us. Robert shot a gallon of cum up into mom's face. She let out a laugh as his hot sticky cum splashed on her cheeks, her nose, her lips and dripped off her chin. Just then I shot my load into my aunt's hungry mouth and down her throat as she gulped down my hot cum like it was water. Barbara took each and every last drop I had to offer, squeezing it out of me and into her mouth. Meanwhile, mom was scooping up Robert's cum to feed to herself.
"Mmm," mom moaned. ""You taste SO GOOD!" Here Barbara," she said giving her sister-in-law a finger to lick her own son's cum off of.
"Mmm," Barbara moaned. "My boy DOES taste good!"
"How did your nephew taste?" mom asked her.
"Oh, he tasted GREAT! They both do!"
"So, what do you say to your moms and aunts for this nice surprise this afternoon?" mom asked us.
"Thank you." "Yeah, thanks." We happily replied.
"Can we do it again?" Robert asked.
"Not now," mom replied.
"Yes, we have to get back," Barbara said. "You know your father. He'll start getting worried."
With that, both Robert and I dressed and fifteen minutes later were back at the cabin.
"Did you have a nice walk?" my uncle asked, as we entered.
"Very nice," Barbara replied. If he only knew that just a few minutes earlier his wife had given their nephew a blowjob!
We all left for home the next day. Midway through our drive, my uncle stopped to get gas and with the rest of us in the car, mom turned to Barbara and said, "Maybe we can all get together before college starts up again."
Barbara's eyes lit up: "Ooooo! Okay," she said in that spicy-little girl way of hers. Robert and I smiled. "When?" he asked.
"Well, we'll see," mom replied. "Hopefully soon."
When they dropped us off at our house, we all said our goodbyes with a round of hugs and kisses. Hugging Barbara, as she kissed my cheek, I licked hers! Pulling away she seemed shocked but she looked at me with a little smile and big, dancing brown eyes that seemed to say "I liked that, you evil young man, you!" It was all I could do to keep from giggling and attracting attention, but it was also my way of thanking her. I got to fuck my dark, sexy aunt not only in her cunt, but also her ass, AND she sucked my cock! I got to cum in ALL her holes!

After that week in the mountains, I thought we were at the beginning of some real hot times together. It sure started out that way. Our very first day home, once my dad went to work, mom and I had the house to ourselves all day. When she wasn't shopping or cleaning, or I wasn't with this friend or that, we would fuck for hours. She taught me to eat pussy, and I learned the value of foreplay, although with mom it wasn't that necessary since she would get hot and ready just at the thought of doing it with her son.
Mom quickly found that she and I were totally compatible when it came to sex. She had always wanted more than my dad could give, and her infidelities were infrequent. Now, right under her own roof, she could get it everyday if she wanted. And often did! And since I was so young and virile, I would fuck her in all her hot holes and come back for more. Mom quickly realized that I really enjoyed anal sex, and she always made sure that I got my chance to get behind her upturned tail, spread her fleshy as cheeks, admire her pink, puckered hole, finger it and play with her asshole, and then lube up with the stuff she bought for us, and then insert my dick up that hot anus of hers. There were days when all I wanted to do was fuck her ass and shoot my cum deep up her bowels, but mom made sure that I made her pussy my number one priority.
"Mmmm, god, I love your teenage cock!" mom moaned one time after I shot my load down her throat, only to remain rock hard. I quickly got between her legs to insert my dick up her cunt. She started calling me her young stud, even superman, a reference to my cock which was always hard for her, making me her "Man of Steel." We fucked in my parent's bed, something mom found particularly nasty, but also in my bed. Using our imaginations, we came up with little games. I wanted to fuck in every room in the house; on every piece of furniture; the shower; even in the backseat of the car. Unfortunately, mom was a little frightened to take me for a drive to a secluded spot in case someone was nearby. So we reached a compromise: we did it in the car while parked in the garage. The smell of pussy and exhaust fumes! We never did that again!
Shortly before college started, mom called Barbara about us all getting together again. I knew mom liked Robert's bigger cock but I could hardly complain since I was getting her all the time and I would also get to fuck my aunt again. Things on their side were not going as well, as Barbara was having second thoughts. At first she and Robert fucked every day since he never left her alone, and often when my uncle had to be out of the house really early, Robert would wait for his car to pull out of the driveway, get out of bed stark naked with his raging erection, crawl into bed with my giggling aunt, spread her legs and thrust right in. She would finger herself in anticipation of her son's arrival so her cunt was ready for him. My aunt liked foreplay but Robert wasn't into it. He was simply Wham, bam, thank you mom!
Robert and Barbara usually fucked in Robert's bed, and she also had to get used to his anal intrusions. She wasn't into it like my mom, and besides, Robert's bigger cock was more painful. She did love to suck his cock, though, and I had already learned how good she was at that. But now, three weeks later, Barbara was having second thoughts about everything.
"Why?" mom asked one day over the phone with me sitting just a few feet away munching on potato chips. "I thought you were enjoying this. You said so just the other day?"
"Well, things have gotten out of hand," Barbara lamented.
"Such as?" Mom asked.
"Well, you know his cock's too big for me back there..."
"Well, make it a point to say no. When we get together, I'll take care of his needs. Tell him he can fuck ME in the ass! Is that the problem?"
Then the conversation turned totally one-sided with Barbara doing all the talking. Then I saw mom's eyes get real wide, and she let out an exasperated breath, acting real excited. "Really? He really wants you to do that?"
"Yes," Barbara replied sadly. "I mean, I want to continue teaching him and get both our needs met but he's so stubborn! I've told him, 'Robert, I'm not your sex-toy to do with as you please! I'm not going to fuck your friends!' He keeps saying how much fun it will be, but I don't want anyone else knowing that I fuck my own son! He acts like everybody does this. What should I do? I don't know how to handle this!"
"Well, maybe the both of you should cool it for awhile," mom replied. Robert and Barbara really did cool it. They had a falling out over my cousin's kinky desires, and Barbara refused him any more sex. If anything, she began feeling guilty about all we had done. Needless to say, the four of us didn't get together again.
After getting off the phone with Barbara, mom said that Barbara should have taken up Robert's offer. As long as the other boys knew the ground rules, meaning discretion, they could have had some really wild times! I could tell mom was a little jealous. I had a few friends, none very appealing, and here was my aunt turning down a chance to fuck maybe four or five horny teen studs. What my mom really wanted was to fulfill a fantasy of having all her holes filled at one time.
"I regret we didn't try that up in Big Bear," she said. "But you guys were just too inexperienced. I would have loved to take you and your cousin in my cunt and ass at the same time. You boys could have done Barbara, too. Your cousin is too big for her but she told me last time I talked with her that she really enjoyed YOUR cock up her ass." Damn! I thought. Oh well...
While sex between Robert and Barbara fell off, not so with me and mom. I was her regular lay, and she was mine. It wasn't until recently, while reminiscing about "that summer," that I asked her about some of her infidelities while married to dad. None sounded too exciting.
"You didn't fuck other men after you and I started, did you?" I asked.
"Umm, no," mom replied, her eyes saying something different.
"You did, didn't you!" I challenged.
"Well, a few times," she said apologetically. "Listen, we weren't married you know. I didn't stop YOU from dating."
"When?" I asked really curious. "I don't remember anything suspicious about your behavior."
"That's because you were at your dad's those weekends after the divorce."
"Anyone I know?" I asked, almost afraid of the answer.
"That's enough, okay?" mom snapped. "It was a long time ago."
"C'mon," I said. "I can take it."
"I'm not sure you can," she replied matter-of-factly. "If I tell you, it'll be your problem, okay? I don't want to know about your sex life, but if I tell you some of my past, don't get angry with ME! You have your chance."
"My god," I thought. "What did she do? Whom did she do?"
Seeing that I was sitting there quietly trying to sort this out, but not stopping her she said, "Okay. You asked for it!"
Then mom had me spellbound for the next half hour describing how one day she called Barbara to say hello and asked to say hi to my cousin. Over the phone she told him of her plan and was he interested. Of course! So on those weekends when I visited my dad, she filled the void left by her uptight sister-in-law, and began driving down to their town to fuck my cousin and his "huge cock." She sucked him, fucked him, even taking him up her ass. Obviously they couldn't do it in Floyd's house, so on a "good" weekend, when I was away and when one of Robert's friends' parents were out of town, in Palm Springs, Santa Barbara or Las Vegas, she'd drive down at night, pick up Robert outside his house, and drive to the friend's house to fuck Robert and however many of his friends would be there! She'd dress in whatever slutty way they wanted: short, tight skirts, sometimes cut-offs, and always heels. For the next three years, mom became their "weekend whore," fulfilling their youthful needs as well as her own nastiest fantasies! One night she "played the dozens"; a gangbang with twelve teen studs. My horny, forty-something mom; their "slutty Aunt Susan," gave them all the cunt and ass they could handle. She also initiated siblings.
"I even got pregnant!" she said staring me in the eye. "I don't know which kid it was, though. I think it was probably the black kid. He shot the most cum." Flashing a wicked smile, she said "His cock was TEN inches! If Robert's friends only knew the secret he shared with me: He was fucking THEIR mom's, too!"
My head was spinning! And no wonder when I'd get back from my dad's, mom always needed a few of days off! Despite my horniness being away from home for a night or two, she always claimed she was just too tired from house-cleaning on the weekends or gardening out back. The slutty liar! Just hearing mom's story was almost intoxicating. Instead of feeling anger or jealousy, it was actually exciting.
"My god, are you hard?" she asked, noticing my bulge after telling me her story. Mom smiled that big grin of hers, and unzipped my pants, freeing my hard cock.
"Let's get you undressed," she said. Once naked, I sat back down on the couch as mom knelt to take my cock in her mouth. She sucked on it, nibbled, licked the length of my shaft, even sucked my balls.
"You want to hear more?" mom asked in a lusty deep voice. "I want to make you CUM while telling you about my conquests. Can you handle details?" she said slurping on my cock. With my cock in her hand, in between licks, and looking me straight in the eye, she asked "Do you want to hear more about "Slutty Aunt Susan"; what kind of WHORE your mom was? Hmm?" More licking and sucking on my cock. "You want more?" (Suck!) "I know you do!" (Lick!) Tell me how much you do!" I then let out a scream and shot my load!
"Mmmm," mom moaned, licking my cock clean. "I guess I'll have to share ALL my stories now that the cat's out of the bag. Would you like that? Hmmm?"

(finish)

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Anniversary Gift To Wife




Hi, it took me long time to put down my incident as it involves me and my wife emotionally. I am a 34 year mechanical engineer with 5'9 with my beautiful wife Priya as 31 year old housewife with long thick black hair with spotless fair color with height of 5'6 and right statistics. We are located in Ahmadabad. We speak Marathi and we had been a sexually satisfied couple but incident forced us to involve "other man in our life" and it brought us to more nearer than what we were in our 5 year of married life with one son of 4 years. The incident happened two years ago and it made our love and bonding more stronger.


I had a long weekend (Friday to Sunday) and I was just trying to figure out with my wife how to use it to the fullest extent as we were celebrating our 5th anniversary on Saturday. While I make sure to gift her something special every year, Priya did not want to buy anything and wanted me to give different. While I was reading newspaper and in deep thought of what I am to give her, Priya was busy in checking her SMS’s. Suddenly she came to me and said that Sudhir is coming tomorrow for his business deal from Delhi and he would like to know if we would be available tomorrow. I did not want to meet anyone on our anniversary day but Sudhir was special.

Just on our wedding night itself Priya told me that her classmate Sudhir and she were in love and wanted to marry. Since Sudhir was Punjabi, her parent opposed them. They still wanted to run away but she could not do it because of her aged grandma and she yielded to marry me (being Marathi guy) after grandma took oath from her. Now he would be mine but wanted to tell this as anytime later in our life if someone mentioned regarding Sudhir, it should not create any suspicion in our life. I really feel great to have such wife who is true to her world as she has been devoted to me all these 5 years giving me a beautiful child who is now 4 years old. I know their love was true and pure as she was virgin when we met first time.

I did not meet Sudhir earlier but I instantly told her that he can be our guest tomorrow which gave Priya pleasant surprise as she know I want to be alone with her on our anniversary and she was very happy. She immediately send reply to Sudir to join us for dinner tomorrow.

Sudhir came at 6 pm and I was very impressed with his personality. He was 6'tall heavy with short hair which made him look good on his fair color. I do not make it to fair color category (wheatish) but looking Sudhir , I realize that why Priya was mad after him and when Priya was greeting him with orange juice on his arrival, I thought, they would have (also) made a perfect pair and his only fault was he was Punjabi and hence opposed by her parents. Sudhir become very friendly with me within few minutes of his arrival with his smile and jolly mood. I liked him and immediately accepted him as a friend and when we were at dining table, we felt we know him for ages.


During dinner, I asked Sudhir that why he has not married till now (now 31 years of age). He said that Priya had Grandma's oath and got married but he did not have anything like that and he want to keep his promise to Priya of not marrying anyone except her. I told him that we are married for seven year and now it does not make a sense for you to keep promise and he can as well find girl of his choice and get settled. I was surprise to listen from him that he would not marry any other girl and would wait for Priya for next life and he cannot imagine anyone other than Priya as wife. It was impossible he was talking and I was looking at Priya while we were talking and she had a deep silence, looking at seriousness of Sudhir. I really felt bad for his not getting the true love and his sincerity. The serious environment was suddenly broken by Priya by taking a spoon of ice cream offering to Sudhir "cool down and let us enjoy". And we all smiled together.

After dinner Sudhir asked me "Did you not give any anniversary gift to Priya". I told him it is due and told him that he too deserve a gift for this honesty towards love and of course Priya. Then we spoke to many topics and it was already 11 pm and Priya insisted him to stay back with us as it was too late. I too insisted and he could not refuse. Leaving Priya and Sudhir to discuss in Drawing room I quickly came to our bedroom and started writing something on paper and put it on envelop. I went back to them and did not know why they were laughing, may be remembering some instant of their college days. At 11.15 am we both came to our bedroom saying goodnight to Sudhir in guest room which is next to our bedroom.

Priya was wearing a Green saree with low cut blouse with wide opening on her back (just covering her bra straps). Her hands were looking beautiful with green bangle adding beauty to her fair color slim hands. With her open long hair falling on her shoulder and touching her buttocks at behind, she was looking very sexy and a perfect partner to take on bed to celebrate our anniversary. But something else was going in my mind. I took both hands of Priya and pulling her; I just hug her very hard. She was surprised as normally it would have pushed her on bed by now. But being so long with me she could understand I have something to tell her. I said "Priya, I want to give you anniversary gift and that is your lost love" "I can’t correct the mistake your parents made but I want to compensate something at least".

Priya said she did not understand. I told her that after meeting Sudhir, I feel guilty of separating a love pair and if she want to help me to get out of this guilt. She said that she loves me and want to support me in all aspects. I kissed and directly asked that since Sudhir do not want anyone other than you as wife and it is not possible in this life anyway. But it would be ok for me if he accepts her as his wife for tonight. She was looking on the floor with her one foot trying to touch other. I told her if she too has a love corner for him, then I have the plan, she need to only tell me yes or no.


She did not say anything and I told her that her not saying No is I assumed yes. I left her in the room and went to Sudhir’s room and handed over the envelop I wrote before. I told him this is his gift for honesty and only open once I leave this room. My letter content as like this

“Sudhir, you have been in deep love with my wife Priya as it shows from last five years you have not married and want to wait for next life. I could see today you laughing and enjoying with her and you could be a perfect partner for her but I was lucky to have her but I feel guilt if you both do not meet in life. My gift to you is that tonight Priya would come to you and please accept her as your wife which would fulfill your ambition as well as her as she may not be able to tell this out of shy and would relieve you from you promise. Please accept her as she comes to your room"

I enter our room slowly not letting Priya know. I saw her combing her hair nicely. She has cut hair in front to give a nice flick and improve her look and she putting more perfume and smiling at her (looking at mirror). Her back was so exciting that I immediately thought of grabbing her but restrained myself. Her open stomach between blouse and petticoat was very sexy. She saw me through mirror and became shy. I told her that Sudhir is waiting for you and I would wait for her and let her go. She kissed me and left the room.


I immediately put the stool near the ventilator between our and guest room. I also switched off the lights of my room so that from guest room they cannot see me. With heavy heart I started looking at Sudhir's room door. There was a knock and Sudhir opened it. She immediately entered and ran to the opposite wall. Sudhir closed the door and they both saw each other and smiled. Sudhir moved to her (her back is still touching the wall) and used finger to push her hair back from the check and put both palms on her check and lifted her face toward him. Priya do you agree ... and Priya simply closed her eyes and his mouth descended to put his lips on hers.

Her arms came around his neck and his palm pressed her head to pull her mouth as hard to his mouth and their slow kiss become violent. I could see his tongue entering her and she was not opening her eyes. She pushed him away and turned her face to wall hiding her face in her palms. Her saree pallu fell down on floor and her wide opening of blouse was making a sexy look from behind. Sudhir's hand went around her to rub the open area between blouse and petticoat and he held her near him simultaneously kissing her back and neck. I could see activities of his hand opening the blouse which went to floor exposing her back in the black bra. His hand were busy in removing saree and that to meet the blouse on the floor.

She was still facing wall and hiding her face in her palms. Sudhir move away from her and removed his Kurta and baniyan to make himself half naked. Then it was turn of bra hook and I could see her hand getting away from face and move on breast as if want to hide it. After removing bra Sudhir turned her toward him. Her eyes were closed and hand crossing her breasts. Holding her both hand he pushed her to wall pulling both hand above her head and wow, Her half nakedness was exposed to him completely and he started kissing her neck, then cheeks and finally his lips landed on her lips.


He left her hand and started messaging her two breasts. He was pressing her hard and his hand were grabbing her breasts. I could see my wife moaning with pain and pulling his hands away. His hand move from her breast (his lips still glued to hers) and started opening her petticoat string and it just fell on floor. He left her and started removing his pant and Priya again turned to wall to hide her nudity. Sudhir removed his briefs too and I could see his manhood pointing to Priya.

His hand went to Priya's panty and bent down to remove it. She too stepped out of the panty leaving her completely naked as him. While her face towards wall she was hiding her love triangle. Sudhir again turned her and the both hugged each other and started kissing madly. I could see Priya raising her legs around him with her thin and beautiful hand circling his neck. They both were kissing each other as if being hungry for years. He lifted Priya and deposited on the bed.

She was crossing her hand to hide her nudity. Her hand opened to pull him and he immediately covered her kissing and crushing her boobs under his chest. His heavy weight was too much for my delicate wife and I too getting aroused looking at my wife enjoying it. I could see him molesting my wife beyond her capacity and see shouted Sudhirrrrrr.. Please be polite and I saw Sudhir getting in to slow motion with his tongue searching her left nipple and then right one. She was smiling and enjoying. He again become aggressive and pressed Priya so hard that she again shouted ohhhhh... . She parted her legs and I saw him getting on his Knees raising himself and holding his penis in one handing aligning to love hole. By this time I was completely naked and I too was holding mine.

Slowing he came down and I realize that she is not stopping him and telling to have condom. I wanted to shout and tell them that there is condom in nearby table drawer but could not shout. He went ahead and try to put his penis in her cunt and finding hard, he came up and again pushed down with full force and I could see my wife's pussy gulping his manhood. He entered her. Oh .. I started messaging my penis looking at my beautiful wife under a strong and young Punjabi classmate whom she loved but they could not meet.


I really did not want her pregnant but the two love birds were so engrossed that she absolutely forgotten that she did not allow me enter her without protection for last two years. I got jealous with Sudhir's luck who was fucking her like a high speed spindle without condom and I could see her legs getting wrapped around him and her hand holding him tight. While he was moving in and out, he was kissing him. I know she starts kissing while getting fucked when she gets her first organism. She was moaning Sudhirrrr my love.. You are the best man in the world and I would do anything to get you ohhhh.. my love. We missed it for so many years, oh... please more more Ahiiih uhiii and she pulled his head to put her tongue inside him , This shows her second organism and this also made Sudhir to be fast running horse and he started pushing in her very fast.

Suddenly I heard him saying Priya my darling , I am lucky to have you, and his thrust become more rhythmic with her. While he removed , I saw her pushing her ass up and when he enter, her too when down and he shouted Priyaaaa.....I could feel he was jetting inside her with long but slow thrusts and collapsed on her. He was there for about a minute and when he lifted himself , I saw this white juice coming out of Priya. Her legs were wide spread and she seems to be too tired to get up and kept her legs spread for about two minutes.

He got up and went to bathroom. Naked Priya followed him. I am sure they went for after fuck wash but they did not come out for 10 minutes and I could hear them laughing and patting each other. first to come out as Priya. She was toweling her and started combing her hair. She did not bother to wrap towel around her and preferred to stand naked in front of mirror and comb her hair. Now Sudhir came out with towel around her and when he saw Priya standing there naked, he happen to throw this towel and grabbed Priya from behind. Please Sudhir, now leave me but Sudhir did not leave and pushed her again on the bed and he was again hard. Before she could understand Sudhir was on her and pushed his penis again and this time this was very hard on her pumping with extra strength. I never fucked Priya second time in that short duration and it was new to her. I saw her head moving left and right and she was out of control telling “I love you Sudhir….. I love you very much.
Her hand wend down and grabbed the entering penis to have hand full of her wetness and then allowing him to enter him. She put her messed finger in Sudhir's mouth and made him lick while he was fucking her like horse. I could see me again lying on her ejaculating in her. She just kissed him with her tongue coming out and licking his lips. I know she has gone beyond her capacity as she never did it to me. After it was over they slept in each other arms but Sudhir did not allow her to switch off the light as he wanted to every moment to enjoy.


Looking at sleeping love birds , I too came down from the stool and retired to bed. I do not know when I slept but got up at 5 am by our regular alarm. She normally gets up at time for cooking tiffins for me and my son. After getting up , Just wanted to know if my wife too got up ready to morning, I again went on stool and looked through ventilator. Priya was in her full dressed getting ready and trying to correct the hair with comb. She was looking at her neck the love signs made by Sudhir by hard kissing.(She is too fair and kissing leaves spots which vanishes in one or two days).She smiled and felt shy looking at those signs at cheeks and neck. Sudhir was still in sleep with bed sheet covering his lower half. Priya looked at him and smile and suddenly went ahead to pull bed sheet exposing his naked body.

She bends down to kiss his lips (he was still sleeping) and while kissing her hand moved to touch his penis. She kissed his chest and wend down to kiss the penis. As started getting up from bed but I saw Sudhir pulling her down. She said I need to go but Sudhir did not agree and removed her saree, blouse, petticoat and underwear to render her completely naked. He told her that we may not get this kind of opportunity again and he does not want to miss her. She suddenly started kissing him and got on top of him. She sat on him taking his penis inside her completely and jumping on him to give him the fantastic pleasure. He was kneading her breast with both hands and she was shouting with each entry Saying “oh I love you Sudhir…..I love you very much” and he ejaculated inside her for the third time. I took thrown my juice for the first time as I was so excited looking at her pleasure. After her release she got up and got dressed quickly. At last she kissed him good bye. He was again pulling her but this time she kissed him long with her whole tongue mixing with his tongue and said good bye as it was already 6 am

I quickly came down from stool and on bed as if I was sleeping for whole night. She came to me in fully dressed saree and came in my arms. I pretended to be woken up and look at her. Her glowing face shows the enjoyment she underwent. While I was looking at her, I saw a tear rolling down her cheek her eyes were closed. Wiping that tear I asked her what happened. She said “I am happy Govind". And I know how happy she is to meet her first love. I have done something which a loving husband can do. Our bond became stronger. Now every anniversary Sudhir comes to our house and spend two three days with us. Obviously they sleep together in those days. Those two three nights they fuck continuously like horny animals. Last year she became pregnant just one month after Sudhir’s visit. Now we jokingly tell each other that she is pregnant because of Sudhir's freestyle marathon whole night fucking.
(The End)

[Ramesh_Rocky]

A CHEATED HUSBAND


PART 1


Here's something to think about: even little things can destroy your life. An example: If it hadn't been our 16th Wedding Anniversary, Marianne and I would have been eating dinner at one of our usual favorite places, instead of the fanciest restaurant in Cleveland. If it hadn't been such a fancy restaurant, I wouldn't have seen her face as she sat down--I would have been standing behind her and holding her chair, instead of letting a waiter do it. If I hadn't seen her face, I would have missed the little grimace of discomfort as her bottom touched the chair.

She saw my concerned look, and before I could ask anything she said, "Just a muscle cramp—my calf is sore today for some reason." Then she quickly went on to change the subject: "Oh Tom, what a beautiful restaurant this is. Thank you for bringing me here tonight!"

Here's something else to think about: Often we know something long before we realize that we know it. Marianne's grimace was a face she had made before, when she was suffering from what we jokingly called the "Honeymoons". When we were first married, on one of our honeymoon nights in Puerto Rico we had a lot to drink, and made love so vigorously (and so often) that the next day her pussy lips were sore and swollen, and it was uncomfortable for her to sit down. We had to take a day or two off from regular fucking, though we found many other ways of giving each other pleasure! The same thing happened during our "Second Honeymoon" six years later, when we left the kids with my parents and spent a week in Cancun. One exciting and passionate night of sex led to two days of soreness for Marianne —thus the name "Honeymoons".

Since then our sex life had calmed down quite a bit, as I guess it does for pretty much every married couple raising children, and the "Honeymoons" had not happened again. But the look on Marianne's face on our Wedding Anniversary was the "Honeymoons" look, and I recognized it right away, though I didn't realize until later that I had.

In fact our anniversary dinner was wonderful, and so was the rest of the evening, though not without a surprise—again, one whose meaning I didn't understand until later. Throughout dinner we shared great food, two bottles of champagne, and lots of happy memories. We talked about our two teenagers, both away for the summer at camp. We laughed about the awkwardness of our early dates in college, and about how it took a few tries until we knew what we were doing together in bed. Marianne had slept with two men before me—each of them only once, and without much pleasure. I'd had a steady girlfriend in high college, but she wouldn't let me fuck her until a month before graduation, and we'd done it only a few times before I left for college.

When Marianne and I got home from the restaurant—tipsy and very much in love—I carried her up to the bedroom and began to strip her naked, but she stopped me.

"Tom, wait. Let me put on the new nightie I bought just for tonight."

She disappeared into the bathroom, and by the time I was naked and in bed, she had emerged in a long pale blue nightgown that was nearly transparent. Her lovely breasts and perfect nipples showed clearly, as did the dark bush of her pubic hair. At 38 Marianne was gorgeous. The inevitable effects of bearing two children had been held at bay by good genes and lots of exercise (we ran 3 miles together at least twice a week). She was statuesque and magnificent—5'8" with dark hair and brown eyes, with wide hips and long legs. To me she was even sexier than when I first met her nearly two decades before. I had been in love with her—and in lust with her—ever since.

After some passionate necking and touching, I moved lower on the bed, seeking to raise her nightgown and arouse her with my tongue. Marianne adores it when I lick her, though she's much less enthusiastic about going down on me. Almost always our sex together includes some time with her enjoying my tongue and mouth between her legs. For this reason it surprised me when she stopped me.

"No, Tom, please. Tonight I want to be just for you." She gently forced me back down on the bed, stroked my cock, then took it into her mouth. When I reached for her pussy with my hands, meaning to pleasure her while she pleased me, she again stopped me.

"No, honey. Tonight has been so wonderful—let me just do this for you."

As I said, Marianne usually isn't so crazy about giving me blow jobs, but this one was sensational. She teased me, with her warm breath and her tongue and her lips and her hands. She got me close, then backed off with a wicked smile and stroked me softly, looking into my eyes and ignoring my groaning pleas to let me come. She licked down my shaft and lovingly took each of my balls in turn into her mouth, stimulating them gently with her tongue. Then she started it all over again! "Please, Anni, please! Let me come!" It must have been nearly half an hour of agonizing pleasure before she finished me off, taking me deep into her mouth and letting me shoot an enormous load of cum down her throat. My hips jerked and I groaned uncontrollably as the pleasure shot through me.

I lay there, spent and gasping. "Anni, that was unbelievable!" I said, using the pet name I often called her by during sex. By the time it had occurred to me that we hadn't fucked, and that I hadn't licked her or stroked her, the light was out and she was snuggled under my arm, relaxed and warm. When I once more said, "Honey, what about you?" she replied sleepily, "All for you tonight, darling."

So—why would I think about either of the strange little moments in the evening? No reason to. Who would care about a little grimace, or refuse a loving blowjob? No one. And that included me, until precisely eleven days later when my world began to crumble around me.

I had come back late Saturday night from a two-day conference in Chicago. I'm an engineer, and there was a meeting to discuss new federal load-bearing rules for commercial buildings. By the time I got home from the airport it was after 1 am, and I knew Marianne would be asleep. I stopped by the laundry room and took a minute to empty the dirty clothes out of my suitcase into the hamper. As I bent down, I noticed a pair of her panties that had fallen behind the hamper and were nearly hidden against the wall.

It was a silky black thong—in fact, her only thong, the one I had bought as a sexy present a year before and which she saved for special nights with me. Marianne is not a big fan of thongs—"They're not so bad if you feel like flossing your ass-crack!" is what she said to me once—but she wore that one a few times because she knew it excited me. I hadn't seen her wearing it in some time, but here it was, crusty and stiff on the crotch with what could only be a man's cum. One sniff confirmed the evidence of my eyes.

You know how sometimes in stories a character will claim "my head spun", and the reader thinks it's just a figure of speech? Well, my head spun. I felt dizzy and lightheaded, and I nearly tumbled to the floor. I kind of stumbled back into the kitchen and collapsed into a chair. I felt as though I had been hit in the back of the head with a 2 x 4.

Over the next few minutes my mind played every trick it could, as I tried desperately to make this something other than what it had to be. Could the panties have been lying there for months, since the last time she'd worn them with me? No—the hamper got moved every couple of weeks when the room was swept. Could she have worn them one day recently without me noticing? No—I saw her get dressed every morning. Could it have been my cum, from the last time we made love? No—that was three days before my trip, and she put on regular panties the next day. Could the mess in them be Marianne's own juices, maybe the result of a masturbation session while I was away? No—I knew what cum smelled like.

In the end, my mind caught up to what I already knew in my heart. My wife, the woman I had loved with my entire being for more than 16 years, was cheating on me. I didn't cry then; I was too stunned. I just sat and stared vaguely around the kitchen, drank a beer without tasting it, and let the inevitable questions pile up in my brain and stomp all my happiness to death. Who was it? How long? Did she love him? What would this mean for our marriage? Did we even have a marriage left? What would I do?

I am not one of those men who is turned on by the idea of their wives fucking another man. In fact, the idea doesn't give me a hard-on; it revolts me. I had never had fantasies about her with someone else. I didn't want her to screw someone else; I didn't want to watch it; I didn't want to think about it. And she knew that.

Marianne and I had made a commitment to one another to be faithful. I guess every married couple does, at least at the moment of the wedding, but we had also discussed it since then. At a neighborhood barbecue, about 8 years into our marriage, I'd been drawn aside by a casual friend, a nice but somewhat stuffy fellow named Harry. We sometimes made fun of him behind his back because he spoke in a kind of pedantic way, and was never without his pipe in his mouth. But a nice guy nonetheless. He took me for a short walk, and in a roundabout way told me that he and his wife Eileen were swingers, that they were attracted to Marianne and me, and that they hoped we might try swinging with them.

I was pretty shocked by this, but I calmly told him I'd think about it and discuss it with Marianne. But I said, "I don't know quite how to bring this up with her—I think she will find it pretty shocking." Harry just grinned at me. "Don't worry about that part, Tom," he replied. "Eileen is talking to Marianne about it right now!"

I was amused by how carefully they had planned it, and I promised Harry I'd speak to Marianne and let him know. I was at least a tiny bit tempted—Eileen was a short, curvy woman with a voluptuous figure, and also a lot of fun—but I couldn't imagine Marianne having any interest at all in swinging, or in Harry.

After the party, Marianne brought up the subject on our walk home before I could even say anything. "Can you believe that, Tom? Harry and Eileen swingers? And they want us to join them?"

"I was pretty surprised too, honey. I wish I could have seen your face when Eileen suggested that we swap with them."

Marianne laughed. "Well, I was taken aback. But I just politely said we'd talk about it, and let them know. No sense in saying something rude."

Later, in our bedroom, I returned to the topic. "Well, Marianne, do you have any interest in their offer?" "God, no, Tom!" she replied. "Can you imagine me in bed with that pompous man? Not in this lifetime!"

"But Marianne," I kidded her. "Don't you want to find out if he takes his pipe out of his mouth when he's fucking?" We both dissolved in laughter. It was clear that this wife-swapping invitation was not going anywhere!

I went on. "Honey, more seriously. We've never discussed the idea of swapping. I don't think it's anything I want to do, but are you tempted? Never mind Harry and Eileen—I mean with anyone?

She looked at me thoughtfully. "To be honest, Tom, I'm at least a bit curious. As you know there were only those two awful ... experiences I had in high college, and then no other man besides you in my life. So I can't help but wonder what it would be like with someone else. I love you and I love making love with you—it's not that I'm dissatisfied. I can't imagine finding a better lover. But I am a little curious."

She continued, "On the other hand, I don't want you having sex with anyone else! The thought of you holding and kissing another woman, of being between her legs, of putting your beautiful penis inside her, giving her the pleasure you give me—the idea of it makes be physically ill.. I want you all for myself! Our love-making is special to me because it's just for us, because neither of us ever shares ourselves with anyone else in that way."

I smiled at her, full of love for my amazing wife. "Anni, that's just how I feel. Sure I occasionally see a hot woman and have a brief fantasy—but our life together and the specialness of our sex are just too important to me. It's horrible even to imagine you with another man. I guess we are both just stick-in-the-muds, for whom marital fidelity actually matters!"

"Then come here, my stick-in-the-mud husband. I'm in the mood for some boring, maritally faithful sex!"

A few minutes later came the final, delightful surprise of that evening. As we fucked energetically in the doggy position, the two of us climbing towards orgasm, Marianne suddenly cried out, "Fuck me Harry! Give it to me, Harry—let me have that big dick of yours!"

I gasped, then collapsed in laughter along with Marianne. All thoughts of orgasm were forgotten as we howled together, tears of laughter running down our faces. I felt like the husband of the most wonderful woman in the world.

Now, as I thought back to that happy evening, my misery deepened. What had happened to the loving wife who was committed to ME, who had decided to refuse everyone else? I've always been a thoughtful and deliberate person—determined, but not quick to act until I knew everything about a situation. Even in my shock, and my despair, I already realized I had to know more. I couldn't confront Marianne, couldn't cry or yell or beat her or move out, until I knew the whole story.

The thought of making love to her in the next few days, of snuggling with her in bed, of pretending to be happy and in love when I actually felt like screaming, made me sick. How would I be able to hide my feelings from her? I actually thought for a moment, "How can I lie to my loving wife?" Then almost instantly came the answer: She's been lying to me! She's been cheating on me! She's been fucking God-knows-who behind my back, for God-knows how long!

By the time I climbed slowly up the stairs into my bedroom, it was after 2:30. Thank God I didn't have to face Marianne that night! When I got into bed, she murmured a hello without waking, and molded her body tightly up behind me, with an arm around my chest. I couldn't stand it! I wanted to cry. I wanted to kill her. I wanted her to tell me that this was just a horrible dream.

I hastily got back out of bed, pretending I needed to pee, and waited several minutes until I was sure she was completely asleep again. Then I crept back into bed, holding myself as far from her as possible, and stared open-eyed into the darkness, waiting for the most unlikely thing of all: sleep.

The next morning was Sunday, and I didn't awake until after 10:30—Marianne had let me sleep late. I could hear her downstairs, humming in the kitchen, and the smell of coffee wafted up to me. I stretched and yawned, smiling at the bright sunshine streaming in through the window. Perhaps a picnic today with Marianne? Then, after just a moment, the memory of what I had discovered the night before knocked the breath out of me, and the smile off my face. I remember thinking to myself that July 11th, the night of my return home, would probably forever be burned into my memory as the worst day of my life. But I was wrong about that: it turned out to be the 12th.
(TO BE CONTINUED)

[Ramesh_Rocky]

A CHEATED HUSBAND

PART 2


I sat and thought for a few minutes before going downstairs. How was I going to face her? I wasn't ready to talk about her cheating—I needed to know the details. But I've never been good at lying, either, and Marianne was quick to pick up on any little look on my face. I have always loved her sensitivity to my feelings, and those of others. She notices other people, their moods, their preferences, better than anyone I have known. That is surely part of why I loved her so much.

Unable to decide what to do, I headed down to the kitchen, vaguely thinking I'd just smile a lot and keep her from noticing how I was feeling. Well, THAT plan lasted all of about ten seconds.

"Hi sleepyhead", she greeted me with a warm smile and a mug of coffee. "I was afraid you'd miss this beautiful day! But I know you must have gotten in very late last night. How was the meeting?" Having just handed me the coffee, she took it back from me, put it on the kitchen table, and hugged me tightly to her, kissing the side of my neck. I hugged her back mechanically, aware of her warm body under the robe, having no idea what to say. I wanted to cry.

When we broke the hug I turned away, grabbing my coffee, and pretended to gaze out at the back yard. "Yes, it is a gorgeous day. I was thinking we might go down to Forbes Lake, take our swimsuits and a picnic, and spend the day down there."

"What a great idea!" she replied. "I've got lots of stuff for sandwiches, and it's too lovely a day to spend all of it indoors. However," she went on with a smile in her voice, "I think we have some unfinished business from last night to take care of first!" I knew what she meant—we always made love when either of us came back from a trip, but she had been asleep when I came upstairs the previous night.

At that moment all I could think about were her panties, covered with someone else's cum. The idea of fucking her unfaithful pussy filled me with anger and despair. As she started to draw me back to her, taking my hand and leading me towards the staircase, she saw on my face some of what was in my mind.

"You know you owe me at least two or three orgasms, and .... Tom—what is it? You look as though you've just seen a ghost in the yard!" Marianne stopped, let go of my hand, and looked carefully up into my face. "Are you not feeling well?"

"I'm sorry," I said. "I picked up a stomach bug on the trip, and I'm still feeling a little queasy. Perhaps we could postpone that debt I owe you until later?" I tried to make my voice cheerful, even teasing, but I could see from the look on Marianne's face that I had not completely succeeded.

"OK, honey. I'll pack some nice simple food, nothing fancy or spicy. Maybe a day in the sun will help you feel better." She still looked a bit doubtful, but she didn't question me any further. I took a quick shower, she packed us a lunch, and we drove down to our favorite lakeside picnic spot.

That afternoon was wonderful—and unbearably awful. We spent the day just as we would have if nothing had been wrong. We sat together on a blanket, sharing our lunch and talking about the children and about my trip. We put lotion on one another and lay in the warm sun working on our summer tans. We swam across the lake and back, then rested on the floating raft for a while before swimming in to shore. In late afternoon she took a nap, with her head resting on my chest, as I pretended to read the Sunday paper but actually suffered with thousands of painful thoughts and feelings. If I hadn't been in agony about her infidelity, it would have been a lovely, relaxing day spent with the woman I loved most in the world.

As we drove back towards town she asked, "Are you feeling better? You certainly seemed fine when we swam today."

"I'm still a bit tired, but I guess my stomach is a lot better."

"That's a good thing," she said with a laugh. "I'm planning to wear you out tonight!" She took one of my hands from the steering wheel and pulled the back of it to her lips, giving it a big kiss while smiling at me.

Her warmth and attention felt like a knife in my ribs. How could she possibly treat me with such obvious affection when she'd been getting banged by somebody else? Was all this warmth and love just a show, to keep me in the dark? Was it her way of dealing with guilty feelings? Was the wife that I had known for so long such a monster that she could be in love with someone else, yet act as though she were still in love with me?

At home we had an informal dinner, then cleaned up the kitchen together. We didn't talk too much—that was unusual for us, but I found it far less painful to be near Marianne if I didn't have to fake interest in some conversation while masking how I was really feeling. She clearly sensed that something was bothering me, but didn't press me on it.

Once the dishes were done, Marianne took my arm and with a broad smile, led me towards the bedroom. "Now it's time for what you owe me," she said.

I couldn't bear it—absolutely couldn't bear the thought of trying to make love to her, of caressing her body, of licking her or fucking her, while thinking about who else had been doing that to her.

I stopped partway up the stairs. "Actually, Marianne, could we talk for a minute first? I've got something on my mind." I hadn't meant to say anything, but I just couldn't keep it in.

Seeing from my face that the "something on my mind" was serious, Marianne just said, "of course, honey". We went back down to the living room, she sat on the sofa and I in a chair across from her.

I sat in silence for several minutes, having no idea how to begin. Finally I said, "Marianne, you know how much I love you, right?" "Of course," she replied, looking a little perplexed.

I went on. "I want you to know that our relationship is the most important thing in my life. I put it ahead of everything, except our children. It comes ahead of my career, of anything else. And I would never do anything to jeopardize it."

"Yes, honey," said Marianne, now looking a little suspicious. "I feel just the same way about you—you know that."

"Anni, if I had ever made a mistake about something that threatened our marriage, I would come to you and tell you about. I'd beg for your forgiveness, and do whatever it took to make up for it. I would never allow a secret to poison our relationship. And I hope you would feel just the same."

By now she looked—I don't know, impatient? Or was that a slightly worried expression? "Of course I would, Tom. What is this all about?"

I paused again for a moment, unable to go ahead. Then finally: "Anni, I found your thong panties in the laundry room, covered with cum. Are you having an affair? Please tell me the truth!"

As I blurted this out, in my agony, Marianne never moved. But she seemed to stiffen almost imperceptibly, and her face became very pale. Then, after no more than a few seconds, she smiled broadly and cheerfully spoke. "Oh, honey, is THAT what this is all about? How silly! Don't you remember? We made love on Thursday, the night before you left for Chicago. I put those on the next morning, after you left, because I missed you and wanted to think about you while you were gone. I guess you must have really filled me up, because I could feel myself oozing into them all that morning!"

I just looked into the smiling face of my wife, absolutely aghast. I remembered quite clearly—we had NOT made love that Thursday night, because I was up late preparing some documents for the meeting and she had gone to bed. The last time we had sex was a couple of days earlier. Marianne had just looked me right in the eye and lied to me! Pretty convincingly, too—it frightened me that the story she told, with complete composure, was so plausible that I might very well have believed it! Did she really think that I was so easy to deceive?

Full of pain and hurt, and absolutely staggered by her bold-faced lie, I didn't push her any further. What would be the point? Instead I muttered, "OK—I must have forgotten." And then, making a supreme effort to seem convinced, "I'm sorry to have accused you of such a ridiculous thing."

"Sweet darling," she replied, looking relieved. "What an imagination you have! Let's go upstairs and let me give you all the reassurance you can stand."

If you had told me, even two days earlier, that there would be a night when I dreaded fucking my wife, I would have said you were crazy. And yet there was nothing I less wanted to do at that moment. I silently gritted my teeth and said to myself, "OK, you lying bitch! If you can look me right in the eye and deny you're screwing someone else, then I can look you in the eye and pretend to want to fuck you!"

And it turned out I could. What I couldn't do was enjoy it. We did all of the things we usually loved doing in bed together. Lots of kissing and stroking, then me between Marianne's legs licking her to an orgasm or two. I went at her grimly, glad that she couldn't see my face, and determined to lick and kiss and bite her into a frenzy. "You bitch!" I was thinking. "Does that asshole you're fucking get you as hot as THIS?" I made her come quickly, then went right on, stroking inside her with two fingers on her G-spot while I licked and sucked on her clit, until she had two more orgasms and was pulling me up to her, saying. "Please Tom, no more! Come up here and get inside me quick!"

The fucking was much the same. I stroked into her smoothly, regularly, determined simply to fuck the hell out her. I didn't hurt her, but I didn't linger for gentle changes of speed and pressure—I gave her the robot version of fucking, building steadily up and up until I came like crazy, shuddering as I shot into her over and over. I didn't even bother to notice if she came again while we fucked. It was enough that for a few moments, I was able to banish from my mind the image of her lying in ecstasy while some other man pumped on top of her.

After a few quiet minutes, me lying with my head on her shoulder, still not looking at her, Marianne spoke. "My God, Tom, nobody else gives me orgasms like that!" Then, seeing the look on my face, she laughed (she laughed!) and said, "Oh, honey, you know what I mean. There isn't anybody out there who ever COULD give me orgasms like that."

I lay awake long after Marianne had happily snuggled her back up against me and gone to sleep. It was beyond my comprehension that she could have lied to my face like that. Of course, it was also beyond my comprehension that she could be cheating on me, so what's one more lie on top of that?

As I thought back through the preceding weeks and months, I searched for any sign that things were different between us. Any coldness or evasiveness from her; or, on the other hand, any excessive or unexpected affection. At first I didn't remember a single thing—then I thought about our most recent anniversary.

The grimace on her face as she sat down in that fancy restaurant: that was the "honeymoons". Of course it was, I'd seen that look before and knew exactly what it meant. Good God. Had she been fucked into soreness on the day of our wedding anniversary? I got quietly out of bed, grabbed a robe, and headed downstairs, making sure that Marianne was still sleeping soundly.

I sat in the den with the lights off, recalling our sex after our anniversary dinner. My wife, usually so delighted to have her pussy licked and not so interested in sucking my cock, had given me the blowjob of a lifetime, while not letting me lick, or even so much as touch, her cunt. The reason for that was obvious: her pussy was sore, and she didn't want me to irritate it further. Even more important, she surely wouldn't have wanted me to notice that it was sore and swollen.

Her solution to the problem was as creative as my wife was shrewd: distract me with the sight of her in that nearly transparent new nightie, then say "tonight is for you, honey" and blow me to Kingdom come! (Pardon the pun.) If it hadn't been for my finding the panties several days later, I would have forever been in the dark—the typical clueless, cuckolded husband.

It was clear that now I'd have to begin the dreary and banal job of proving that she was cheating—of catching her in the act, or finding something incriminating that she couldn't explain away. What depressed me, and infuriated me, was thinking about what would come after that. One hell of a yelling match, obviously, but then what? A bitter divorce? Months of apologies (from her) and bitter recriminations (from me)? Was I supposed to go out and find myself somebody else to fuck, which I had no interest in doing? How could our marriage possibly survive, not only the cheating, but all the lying that must have gone with it? And for how long now had it been going on?

I put my head in my hands, and I wept. After about an hour, I washed my face with cold water and quietly went back to bed.

It was quite clear to me: I would have to go on pretending to Marianne that everything was fine, until I had absolute proof of her adultery. And her creative lie to me the day before about her panties indicated that she had no intention of ever confessing. I would have to throw the proof in her face.
(TO BE CONTINUED)

[Ramesh_Rocky]

A CHEATED HUSBAND

PART 3

One thing in my favor was my job. I had a lot of freedom within my company—I could come and go during the day, to see clients or visit job sites, and it would not seem unusual. On the other hand, the same was true for Marianne. She worked in client relations for a public relations firm, and was always going to lunch or to business meetings. It would be impossible to check her work schedule and find any suspicious pattern of absences from the office.

I had a college friend named Terry, who worked in Chicago in the security and surveillance business. It took no more than a friendly 20-minute conversation, with a bit of catching up on one another's lives, to get all the equipment advice I needed. I told him I was doing a project for a commercial client obsessed with security, and explained that I'd need the latest in miniaturized listening devices that would transmit wirelessly to recorders. He said, "I'll do you one better: everything is digital nowadays, you can record to digital audio tape or even directly to digitized audio files that you can upload to your computer and listen to."

No more than an hour after our conversation, Terry emailed me all the specs, prices, and model numbers for what we had discussed. I drove out to a large electronics warehouse in the suburbs and bought all of what I needed. Nearly $1400 on the credit card—but I figured that by the time Marianne saw the bill, that would be the least of my worries.

I went home to our house, empty in the middle of the day, and set up audio recorders in our bedroom, spare bedroom, guest room, my study, the living room, and the kitchen. Each of them was no bigger than a thimble, and easy to hide. They were all sound-activated, so that they would begin to record whenever someone spoke or made noise in any of the rooms. And each was set up to transmit wirelessly to tiny digital recorders I'd hidden in our attic. Whatever Marianne or I did in our house, I'd have a sound recording of.

Why didn't I use video? The answer may seem surprising. As I continued to torture myself with images of Marianne fucking and sucking someone else, I realized that I didn't want to see those images. Knowing about her adultery was painful enough—hearing it, or hearing her talk to her lover, was going to be even worse. I was afraid that if I actually SAW them together, I would never be able to erase those pictures from my mind. Better, I thought, to be tormented by my imaginings than to have to see the reality, over and over for years to come.

While I was at it, I checked through all our credit card bills and our phone records. I found nothing incriminating: no unexplained hotel stays, no charges at restaurants I hadn't been to, no pattern of frequent calls to any one number besides the familiar ones of our friends and family. Marianne had clearly been very very careful. I realized I would have to check her purse, and put a recorder in her car, in addition to what I had already done.

In the meantime, I went back to my office. Alternately heartsick and furious, I managed to get through my day without my colleagues noticing how I was feeling. That evening after dinner, Marianne and I made our weekly phone call to our kids at camp. This was a new torment, both of us being cheerful with them while I tried to give no hint of my despair.

After Marianne and I went to bed, I waited quietly until I was sure she was asleep. Then I went outside and carefully installed an audio recorder in her car, transmitting to a tiny receiver hidden under the spare tire in the trunk. Returning to the house I went through her purse. To my surprise I found two cell phones—the one she had always used, and a cheap throwaway model, the kind that's used with pre-paid minutes. This explained why there were no unexpected calls on our cell phone bills! I grimaced to myself, thinking again of how careful and systematic Marianne had been in her efforts to deceive me.

Each day that week was worse than the one before. I pretended to Marianne that everything was fine, smiled and nodded and tried to act natural, though I did manage to avoid sex with her by pleading lots of work one night, and a bad headache another. She could surely tell I was still upset about something, but she played the loving wife without questioning me about it. Each night after she was asleep, I listened to all the recorders I had set up in the house and her car, and until Friday night there was nothing interesting.

That night I finally got confirmation of what I was already sure of. It was a short phone call that Marianne received in her car that morning, undoubtedly on her throw-away cell phone. I heard only her side, but that was enough to make things perfectly clear.

"Hello? ... Hey, babe .... Yeah, I'll BET you have! (with a throaty laugh) .... No, I explained that last Monday ... Yes, Tom hasn't said anything else but I can tell it's still on his mind. I have to let a bit more time pass before I can see you again ... Of course I still want to! But you always knew that my marriage would come first —haven't I been clear about that? ... Yes ... Uh-huh ... Yes, I think next Tuesday will work. But let's not go back to the place we've been going, I want to be extra careful. ... Where? ... You mean that place out on Route 8, near the orchard? ... Yeah, we were there three times before, but not in a while. ... OK, babe, Tuesday at 11am. .... (laughs again), Yes, I'm sure you will be ready! ... Me too ... OK, bye."

I sat slumped in my chair in the study, where I had gone to my computer to check the recordings. It wasn't any surprise, I had known ever since finding the thong, but somehow this confirmation still shattered me. Marianne was cheating on me! And had been for some time, it seemed. She was regularly letting another man fuck her, kissing and stroking him, letting him between her thighs, on top of her, beneath her as she rode him, behind her as he plowed her doggy-style...

Judging from her words on the recording, she must have called him the previous Monday (after our conversation about her panties on Sunday) and warned him that I was suspicious, and that they'd have to cool it for a while. Obviously this was no one-time thing, no sudden slip into a single night of passionate adultery. It was an ongoing affair, one that had gone on for months—or years?

My agonized thoughts went on and on, as image after image played in my head like some kind of nightmarish slide show. One of the most special gestures Marianne sometimes made with me was a way of embracing me when we hugged and kissed. Instead of putting her arms tightly around me and pulling me to her with her hands on my back, she sometimes slid her arms up over my shoulders and kept them straight. In this way her arms hung out behind me, wrists dangling. Something about that position that was magical to me: it meant that she was embracing me with no restraint, no holding herself back. She was utterly open to me, completely mine. As I imagined her with her lover, the single worst image of all was of her embracing him in that way, kissing him with her arms flung over his shoulders, giving herself completely to him.

That weekend, the only particular horrible time (in a whole weekend of desperate sadness for me) was a Saturday night party with some of our friends—busy working parents like ourselves whom we don't get to see very often. As Marianne and I circulated, sometimes together and sometimes apart, we were greeted warmly by friends we liked, who were glad to see us and eager to hear how we'd been. Sharing the usual stories, about work and the kids, felt especially desolate to me. Part of me longed to say to someone, "Well, actually, I've not been doing so well. Marianne is fucking some other guy and won't tell me about it, and I'm pretty devastated. But what's new with you?"

On Monday I left work during the morning and drove out along Route 8 to the Sunflower Motel, which I recognized as the one Marianne had mentioned to her lover. It was a strip motel, a row of rooms side by side with parking places directly in front of each room. So I was confident that, if I put a listening device inside Marianne's purse, the recorder hidden in her car would be close enough to record what went on inside—the range of the devices was supposed to be 150 feet.

That night, I got up after Marianne was asleep—I seemed to be doing that every night—and took her purse into my study, where I carefully sewed one of the tiny wireless microphones into the bottom. She would never find it unless she happened to dump out the entire purse and look for it.

I also re-checked all the listening devices, the recorders in the house and in her car. But there was nothing incriminating or suspicious. Marianne had already set up her rendezvous in the Friday phone call, and didn't risk any further communication with her lover.

Marianne's date was for Tuesday at 11. So a little after 11, I left work and drove again down Route 8. Sure enough, there was her car, parked right in front of Room 19. Not at all surprised, yet still even sicker at heart, I took a minute and noted down the license plates of the cars on either side of hers—it never hurts to be prepared.

That evening I watched Marianne with extra attention. Could she really conceal from me all traces of her cheating that day? She came home looking relaxed and fresh—she must have showered at the motel, because she didn't go running upstairs for a shower. Her eyes sparkled, her face was full of life and color, and she seemed as happy as ever to see me. For the life of me I still couldn't believe that this beautiful, loving person I cared so much about was fucking around behind my back.

I barbecued that night, and we ate outside on the deck, enjoying the warm summer evening. I was certainly as preoccupied as I had been in any of the past few nights, and I wondered if Marianne would ask me about it. She didn't, and I assume she thought it best not to initiate a conversation that might lead back to the subject of adultery. I think she felt confident that she had headed off my suspicions, but she wasn't about to take any further chances.

While we were doing the dishes in the kitchen, she slid over and put her arm around my waist. "Tom, will you come up to bed early with me tonight? I love these days with the kids at camp, when we can make love any time we like. And you've turned me down twice lately!" She said this last sentence with a sexy smile. Under any other circumstances I would have been hard in five seconds. But I knew—or was virtually certain—that she'd been fucking her lover 10 hours earlier, and her invitation just enraged me. How could she jerk me around like this? Did she think I was a total idiot?

Trying to keep calm, and not let my own feelings show, I replied calmly, "I'm sorry, babe. There's a big presentation first thing in the morning for a new building downtown, and I have to get it finished tonight. How about tomorrow night for sure, OK?" I'm pretty sure she didn't believe my excuse. I could even see her on the point of protesting further, before she decided that it might not be a good idea. Again, the last thing she wanted was for me to bring up my suspicions about her adultery.

So all she said was, "OK, sweetheart. I'll go watch some TV before bed. If you get done and I'm still awake, you come running on up to me, promise?"

I stayed downstairs, more-or-less doing some work while waiting for Marianne to go to sleep without me. By midnight she was out; I could hear her regular breathing from the door to the bedroom. I headed out to her car, got the recording from that day, returned to my study, closed the door, slipped it into the computer and played it back.

Even at that moment, I still had a tiny shred of hope. Perhaps in some crazy way I was wrong about everything, and it was all some paranoid fantasy of mine. Marianne had been so loving, so warm—how could she be cheating on me?

From the first sounds on the tape, any remaining hopes disappeared.

First I heard Marianne on the cell phone in her car. There was a routine work call, perhaps on her regular cell, then a few minutes after that HE called, and I heard her side of the conversation.

"Hello ... hey baby .... yes, me too .... Are you there now? I can hardly wait! It feels like it's been forever ... You'll just have to wait to see what I'm wearing (with a giggle), I chose it for you to see it! .... Well, maybe for you to take it off me too .... OK, in a few minutes ... Bye."

This much was no surprise, as it merely confirmed the previous call in which they'd set up their date. What came next was worse—much worse.
(To Be Continued)

[Ramesh_Rocky]

A CHEATED HUSBAND

PART 4



I heard the noises of her parking, turning off her car, getting out, and locking it. Then a couple of soft knocks on a door, and the sounds of a long, deep kiss, as the door clicked shut. A man's voice said, "Wow, did I need that!" Then a couple more kisses, and then he said, "Come in here and let me look at you. You are SO gorgeous!"

Then Marianne, MY Marianne, speaking back to him, teasing him! In a sultry voice, "I'll bet you say that to all the girls, big fella. Can you back it up? Or are you all talk and no action?" Then she laughed aloud, and I heard more kissing and hugging, with the two of them cooing and moaning into one another's ears.

"Let me go, Eddie," Marianne said. "I'm so hot for it, let me just get my clothes off and you inside me!" I heard the sounds of clothes coming off, then the springs of the bed groaning as one or two bodies came down on it.

"God, it's so big, and so hard, and so beautiful!" Marianne said. "I guess you really DID miss me! Let me suck on it first."

"Only if I can lick you too," the man replied. In no time they were apparently in a 69 position. The talking stopped, replaced by the sounds of sucking, licking and moaning made by two horny people in a hurry.

I stopped the recording, sat back, and stared at the ceiling. For over a week I'd been hoping, praying, denying, suffering, wondering. I felt my life had been destroyed, yet I still had clung to the tiny possibility that I was wrong. Now that was over. The marriage in which I had taken such joy, felt such pride and happiness, was a lie. The woman to whom I had opened myself completely, whom I had given every bit of my love and my trust, had betrayed me in the most basic way there is—she had given herself to another man.

There didn't seem much point in listening to the rest, but I went on, doggedly. As I've said, I am not a man who fantasizes about his wife fucking someone else, or gets turned on by it. Every sound they made, every groan of her pleasure or of his, every squeak of the bed, every affectionate word, felt like a sharp needle plunged deep into me. There was no pleasure for me, no excitement, just an indescribably painful sensation of grief and loss.

They sucked and licked each other for a few minutes, until he said, "Hold on, Anni, I'm going to come!" Apparently she didn't stop, for a moment later he groaned. "Oh, oh, shit, that's incredible, oh, ohhh!" Then he sighed, and said, "Baby, you have incredible lips. That was unbelievable!"

She just giggled and said, "I loved it too, Eddie. Now maybe you could pick up where you left off?" As he proceeded to lick her pussy, I could hear all the little moans and sighs, the ohs and ahs, that until then had been part of my happy memories of our love-making. Within minutes she too was coming, saying, "that's it Eddie—oh, right there! right there! Yes, yes, I'm coming!!"

"Oh, Eddie, nobody does me like you do!" she said to him, a remark that stunned me with pain. "Give me a minute to relax and enjoy that wonderful feeling, then I want your beautiful dick inside me." Then she giggled again, as he growled like a dog and apparently began to sniff and lick all over her body. I couldn't believe how much fun they were having together. It wasn't just the sex—their relaxed enjoyment of each other, their intimacy, just tore me apart. It was obvious they'd been lovers for quite a while, and were very familiar and easy with one another. The fact that he called her "Anni", a pet name that only I used with her—above all in bed--just made it worse. Had SHE suggested that to him?

He must have had no trouble getting hard again, because within minutes they were fucking. From their words to each other, I could tell that he began on top, then she rode him until she came again, and then he rolled her over and fucked her for a long time from behind. By that time Marianne was relaxed and happy, on the far side of two great orgasms. She just lay there comfortably, sighed, and let him have his pleasure. When he began to accelerate towards his orgasm she encouraged him. "That's it, baby—come on, fill me up. Oh yes, I can feel you so deep in me! Cum in me, Eddie, now, that's it!"

He came with a loud, long groan, and then there were the sounds of them getting comfortable to rest in one another's arms on the bed. When they stopped making noise the tape must have stopped recording, perhaps for quite a while, but then came the sound of the shower. They must have been in it together, because I could hear their voices but couldn't catch any words.

But their voices were clearer as they came back into the room and dressed. Above all it was their easy affection and familiarity that broke my heart. This was no one-night stand; Eddie was my wife's lover, someone close to her, someone she'd opened her body to, someone with whom she had taken her pleasure repeatedly. They hadn't just fucked. They'd cuddled, they'd showered together. How else to say it? She'd been with him the way she was supposed to be only with me.

When Marianne headed to the door, they kissed goodbye almost routinely, as husband and wife do each morning. "Bye, baby," she said. "You sure made my day!"

"Anni, sweetheart, when can we get together again?"

"I don't know, Eddie. It all depends on when Tom calms down. He's been so moody, it's obvious he's still wondering about me. I need to be very careful for a while. Call me at the end of the week and I'll let you know how it looks."

"OK, babe," Eddie replied. "But once every ten days is not enough of you for me. I get lonely."

"And horny?" she answered with a laugh.

"Well, yes, that too," he confessed.

"Look, Eddie," Marianne said in a more serious tone. "You've known from the beginning how it had to be. Number one for me is my marriage. I won't do anything to hurt Tom, no matter how much I love being with you."

Again I stopped the tape, in bitter shock. "Won't do anything to hurt Tom?" Well I guess you've sort of fucked that one up, Marianne! How about the fact that you tried to pull me into bed with you tonight, just a few hours after you sucked and fucked that clown Eddie?

I went back to listening, and heard Eddie's voice. "OK, Marianne, I get it. Just do what you can to reassure him, OK? I want to see you more than just once a week."

Once more she returned to teasing him. "Sure you can get it up more often than that, lover?" asked Marianne.

"You know I can," Eddie replied, with a laugh. She gave him one more long kiss, and then she must have headed for her car. I heard the engine start up, and then there were just the sounds of driving. There was nothing else on the recording.

I sat in my dark, quiet study. It was 3:45am. I looked vaguely across the room at nothing, seeing only the wreck of my marriage. I must have sat for half an hour, unmoving, without much thought.

Finally I roused myself. I had to prepare for the inevitable confrontation. The marriage is dead, I thought—time to prepare to bury it. I went back to the computer, compiling a new recording of Marianne's first phone call from Eddie and some excerpts from their motel room exercises. I put that recording onto a tape cassette, hid it in a bottom drawer, and slowly went upstairs to bed.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

A CHEATED HUSBAND

PART 5



The next day dragged. In the morning I was exhausted and depressed; it was harder than ever even to fake any normalcy to Marianne. Fortunately, she had an early meeting and left right away, leaving me to breakfast and the newspaper on my own.

At work I was so listless that my best friend Steve came into my office and closed the door. "Is something going on, Tom? For the past couple of weeks I haven't been able to tell if you've got the flu or if something is eating at you. Want to talk about it?"

I sighed. Steve and I had known each other for ten years—he was my closest friend. "Steve, I don't feel ready to tell you all of it. Let's just say that Marianne and I are having some troubles."

"Oh, no, that's terrible! Andrea and I always think of you as the happiest couple we know! I'm so sorry. You know I'll help however I can. Would it help if Andrea gave Marianne a call?"

"No, Steve, but thanks. I have a feeling I'll be needing to tell you the whole story pretty soon, but I'm just not ready yet. Thanks for your concern, I appreciate it a lot."

"OK, Tom," he replied, with obvious worry in his face. "Whatever I can do for you, all you have to do is name it." I thanked him, and when he left I did a bit better at returning to my work and putting my marriage out of my mind for a little while.

I got home on the early side, bringing a pizza, and made some preparations. When Marianne walked in I was sitting at the kitchen table, with the pizza, two place settings, and a couple of beers waiting for us. "Hi sweetie, what a nice surprise!" she beamed at me, coming over for a quick kiss.

I smiled wearily at her and opened the beers, and we ate companionably. I managed to entertain her with a mildly interesting story about a difficult client I've been dealing with, and we finished our dinner in just a few minutes. Time to get on with it, I thought.

"Marianne, I'd like to change the subject to something a bit more serious." She nodded expectantly but didn't reply.

"A couple of weeks ago I expressed my fears that you were having an affair. You persuaded me that I was mistaken, of course, so I naturally stopped worrying about it."

Marianne still sat quietly, but watched me intently.

"Clearly it was silly of me to doubt you," I said. "You are my loving and faithful wife, and you would never lie to me about something so important as marital fidelity."

"That's right, Tom," Marianne replied a bit sharply, obviously nettled by my sarcastic tone. "Do I have to continue defending myself to you? I thought this was settled." She looked just the least bit annoyed—or worried.

"No, no, Marianne, not at all," I said. "You've explained everything to me, and I'm fully convinced. It's just that there's something I can't quite understand. Perhaps you can help me with it?" I stepped to the cassette recorder on the counter and pushed the Play button. We heard Marianne's side of her conversation with Eddie from the previous Friday.

"Hello? ... Hey, babe .... Yeah, I'll BET you have! (with a throaty laugh) .... No, I explained that last Monday ... Yes, Tom hasn't said anything else but I can tell it's still on his mind. I have to let a bit more time pass before I can see you again ... Of course I still want to! But you always knew that my marriage would come first —haven't I been clear about that? ... Yes ... Uh-huh ... Yes, I think next Tuesday will work. But let's not go back to the place we've been going, I want to be extra careful. ... Where? ... You mean that place out on Route 8, near the orchard? ... Yeah, we were there three times before, but not in a while. ... OK, babe, Tuesday at 11 .... (Laughs again), Yes, I'm sure you will be ready! ... Me too ... OK, bye."

As she began hearing herself, Marianne was startled. She said, "Tom! How did you..." and then was silent. At the end of the conversation I stopped the tape and just looked at her. She was pale, but looked amazingly calm and composed.

"Tom, I guess I do owe you an explanation about this, but it's not what you think." (The fuck it's not, I thought to myself. What is she going to tell me now?)

"Eddie is a new client for the firm. He's a well-known actor, and he's about to face charges for having spent the night in a hotel with a groupie who turned out to be only 15. His manager hired us to work with him on a public-relations strategy, but he's incredibly paranoid right now. I've been working with him in total secrecy, meeting in motel rooms, and no one in the firm besides me and the president even know we have him for a client. It all seems ridiculously cloak-and-dagger to me, but it's what they insist on. I told Eddie I was willing to go along with this, but I was afraid somehow you'd learn about my sneaking around and think I was having an affair. I warned Eddie that if that happened, I would have to tell you the whole story. I don't know how you got that tape of my conversation with him, but now you know everything that's going on."

I just stared at my wife. Who WAS this person I thought I knew, who could lie so convincingly on the spur of the moment? I almost had to admire her skill, even as my rage mounted at her refusal even now to tell me the truth.

I pretended to believe her story, letting a look of gradual understanding show on my face. "OK, Marianne," I said slowly. "I guess I can see how that conversation might have meant something quite different from what I assumed."

She looked relieved. "Well it's my fault too, sweetie. I was sworn to secrecy about this project, but I probably should have told you about it right at the beginning anyway, and trusted in your discretion. I'm sorry you got so upset for no reason." She was smiling at me lovingly, and I could see that she actually thought she'd pulled it off.

"Yes...yes, it all makes sense now," I said. "But then maybe you can explain what this is all about." And I pressed Play again, and the kitchen was filled with the sounds of Marianne and Eddie in the motel room. I'd made a "highlights reel", since I had absolutely no desire to hear the whole thing again. A few excerpts did the job.

"Let me go, Eddie," we heard Marianne's voice saying. "I'm so hot for it, let me just get my clothes off and you inside me!"

In the kitchen, Marianne gasped aloud. She looked for a minute as though she would jump up to turn off the cassette player, then she just sat back in her chair, staring at the table, looking deadly pale.

A moment later Marianne's voice continued on the tape: "God, it's so big, and so hard, and so beautiful! I guess you really DID miss me! Let me suck on it first."

Next came Eddie's voice, addressing my wife by her pet name. "Hold on, Anni, I'm going to come! Oh, oh, shit, that's incredible, oh, ohhh!" Then he sighed, and said, "Baby, you have incredible lips. That was unbelievable!"

After that, I stuck with Marianne, first with her orgasm while Eddie was licking her.

"That's it Eddie—oh, right there! right there! Yes, yes, I'm coming!!" And after a moment, "Oh, Eddie, nobody does me like you do! Give me a minute to relax and enjoy that wonderful feeling, then I want your beautiful dick inside me."

For the grand finale, I had chosen Marianne's words as Eddie finished fucking her.

"That's it, baby—come on, fill me up. Oh yes, I can feel you so deep in me! Cum in me, Eddie, now, that's it!"

When I stopped the tape this time, Marianne was perfectly still, and as pale as I had ever seen her. Hearing it again had me in tears, but she was dry-eyed. There was complete silence in the room. I watched Marianne for several minutes before she finally raised her eyes to mine, and slowly spoke.

"Oh, Tom. Oh my God. Tom, I am SO sorry. I never meant for this to happen. I never, never meant to hurt you."

I couldn't resist sarcasm. "Why Marianne, whatever do you mean? Weren't those the sounds of you doing public relations work with your important client?"

"Tom, listen. Please. I know I owe you an explanation. Just, please, let me tell the whole story, and don't interrupt me until I've finished. I can..."

"No," I stopped her. I kept my voice quiet, but it probably sounded like an ice-pick. I was as full of rage as I've ever been in my life.

"No, fuck you, no. After you break my heart, after you cut my balls off and stomp on them, after you look me right in the eye and lie to me, you don't get to ask me to sit quietly and listen to your stories. I asked you for the truth two weeks ago. You think I didn't know that story about the thong panties was bullshit? We didn't make love the night before I left on that trip! And even tonight, you had a chance to be honest with me, and you gave me another fairy tale instead!"

"Please, Tom, there's more to this than..."

But I wouldn't let her finish a sentence. "That's my faithful, loving wife, all right! 'Oh Eddie, nobody does me like you do! Give me your beautiful dick!' And all the while he's calling you 'Anni', and eating your cunt. The two of you are showering together, and making plans for next time!"

"Tom, if you'll only..."

"No, Marianne!" By now I was not being so quiet. "You had your chance to be the faithful wife I thought I was married to. You had the chance to tell me the truth, to 'explain' why you've been fucking someone else for who knows how long. You're out of chances now!"

I got up, grabbed an overnight bag I'd left near the door, and walked out to my car. Behind me I heard Marianne, her voice trembling, saying "Wait! Tom, please! Just give me a chance to talk to you!"

I backed out of the driveway and drove slowly and carefully away from my house, away from my marriage, away from my life.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

A CHEATED HUSBAND

PART 6

I went to a Holiday Inn nearby and took a room for three nights. That would get me to the weekend, then I could figure something else out. My adrenaline and rage had drained away, leaving me exhausted, empty and sad. It was still only 8:30pm. I called Steve at home. "Hey Steve, it's Tom. Calling you sooner than expected—I think I really do need to talk to someone tonight."

"Sure, Tom, of course. Shall I come to your place, or do you want to come here?"

"Actually, Steve, I'm at the Holiday Inn on 12th, in Room 417. Any chance you could come up and bring a few beers? I'm afraid it's a long and sad story."

"I'll be there in 20 minutes."

I had a couple more beers with Steve as I told him the whole story, from our anniversary night to the thong panties to my tape of Marianne and Eddie in the motel. When I was finished he just looked at me in sad surprise. "Jesus, Tom! Of all the wives we know, Marianne is just about the last one I could have imagined..." Embarrassed, he didn't finish the sentence. Instead, he continued, "What can Andrea and I do to help? Do you want to stay with us? What are you planning?"

"Thank you, Steve. I don't really know yet—I've got this room til the weekend, then maybe I'll find an apartment. As for plans, I've only got two at the moment: not to see or speak to Marianne, and somehow not to fall apart completely. Maybe you and Andrea could have dinner with me in the hotel restaurant tomorrow, just so I have some company?"

"No, Tom, you're coming to our place tomorrow. I insist."

I thanked Steve, and after he left I put out the light and was quickly asleep. It felt like the end of a very important chapter in my life, but perhaps fortunately I was just too tired to lie awake reflecting on it.

********

I woke at 7am out of a horrible dream, thrashing and sweating. It had been beautiful at first. Marianne and I were at home in our bed, making slow love to one another. We kissed deeply, then smiled lovingly at one another as I stroked into her from above, in the missionary position. After a while there was another man in the room, off in the corner, watching us. I couldn't see him clearly—he was just a dark shape. Then he approached the bed. I still didn't recognize him.

Then the picture swung at a crazy angle, like a camera panning in a movie. Now the view was down from the ceiling. The man, who must have been Eddie, had taken my place! I was standing in my bedroom, watching Eddie and Marianne fucking on the bed. Somehow I couldn't move, couldn't make them stop. They knew I was standing there, but they didn't care. Marianne glanced once at me without expression, then turned back to her lover. She was groaning and crying out, saying "Eddie! Oh, yes, baby, you're the best! Never stop fucking me! make me forget all about my husband!" It went on and on, until she came with a scream I'd never heard her make in all our married years. That's when I woke up.

I thought a quick shower might help, but it took longer than expected, because I broke down and found myself leaning against the wall, sobbing. Eventually I calmed down, and dried myself. "Today is the first day of the rest of your life," I thought grimly to myself as I dressed. "Some life I've got now."

After a quick hotel breakfast I went into work, and asked the company's receptionist, Alice, to come into my office for a moment. She was a quiet but cheerful woman in her fifties, and we had always had a cordial relationship.

"Alice, I'd like to ask a favor, if you don't mind. Marianne and I are having some problems, and I really don't want to see her or talk to her right now. If and when she calls, would you please keep a record of it for me but tell her I'm out of the office, or in a meeting? She can leave a message in my voicemail but I do NOT want to speak to her. Likewise, if she comes to the office, please make sure she's told that I'm not available."

Alice looked at me and nodded, a bit sadly. "Tom, I'm so sorry. Of course I'll take care of that. At the end of each day you can check with me to see whether she's called. Please let me know if I can help in any other way." I thanked her, and she turned to leave, but stopped at the door.

"Tom? I'm so sorry for what you're going through—but I can't help but hope that you and Marianne can work through this. I don't think I know another man who has been as happily married as you have been until now."

To my surprise I found that I could work. Somehow having confronted Marianne with the proof of her cheating had moved me to the next stage in dealing with this. It didn't weigh me down quite so much. I had absolutely no idea what would happen, but for some reason I was able to focus on the practical problems of my job.

At the end of the day I stopped by Alice's desk. She smiled and told me that Marianne had called four times. I returned to my office to check my voicemail, and found two messages from her.

"Tom, honey, it's Marianne." I could hear the tears in her voice. "Oh sweetheart, I am so sorry, so very sorry! I would give anything for this not to have happened!" Terrific, I thought angrily—all you had to do was not fuck that asshole!

"Please call me and give me a chance to talk to you. I know you're hurting, I can't even imagine how angry you are with me. Please give me the chance to help you understand, and to make it up to you!"

The second message was shorter. "Sweetheart, it's me again. Please call. I'm just dying, thinking of how upset you must be."

I deleted the messages, and drove to Steve and Andrea's for dinner. They were waiting with lasagna, a salad, some wine, and a lot of warm sympathy and friendship. Steve had filled his wife in on at least the basics of my story, and she was nearly in tears when she told me how sorry she was.

"Tom, I want you to know that the whole thing is a mystery to me. I've known Marianne for years, and she just adores you! I know you must be unbelievably upset, but please don't forget what a great marriage you have had until now."

"Thank you, Andrea," I said with a sigh. "I know in my brain that what you say is true. But I feel like something's been torn out of me—I'm empty, and kind of dead inside right now. Steve probably told you how she lied twice to my face when I asked her about this, and only admitted it when I played her the tape of her and her boyfriend actually fucking. She somehow found a way to raise the level of her betrayal even higher."

Andrea nodded, and said nothing for a minute. Then she asked, "Tom, how would you feel about my talking to Marianne? I wouldn't be speaking for you, of course—just reaching out to her at a tough time. She's our friend too."

"Yes, of course," I replied. "I'm sure she'll be glad to have a friend to talk to. Maybe she'll want to give you the true version of the whole nasty story—she certainly didn't want to tell it to me."

Over the next week or so, not much changed. I went to work—where I ignored all of Marianne's phone messages—went back to the hotel and went to bed. On the weekend I found a small furnished apartment near the office that would do for a couple of months, until I was ready to make more long-term plans. I went back to the house twice during the day—driving by first to make sure Marianne's car was not there—and picked up some clothes, my toiletries and my computer.

One night after midnight I decided to retrieve the recorder from Marianne's car, just to see whether she was still in touch with Eddie. There seemed no point in leaving the recorder in place, so I just removed it from the trunk and drove back to the hotel. The device had recorded 8-10 calls over several days, all of them about Marianne's work except for one, recorded mid-morning on the day after I walked out.

"Eddie? Hi, it's Marianne ... Yes, I know I don't usually call you, but I needed to this time. ... Listen, let me just speak, baby, OK? Tom has found about us, and I can't see you any more. ... Yes, somehow he recorded me talking in the car, and even us at the motel on Tuesday. ... Yes, it was pretty X-rated. He's walked out on me, and wouldn't even talk to me on the phone at work this morning. ... Yes ... Listen, Eddie, stop and listen to me! You've known since the beginning what the ground rules were for me. My marriage to Tom comes first. I tried everything I could to keep him from finding out, but I blew it. Now I have no idea what will happen, but all I care about is making this up to my husband. ... Yes, Eddie, of course it was great for me too. ... I'll never forget it either. ... Eddie, stop. Don't make our last conversation an argument. We knew it would come to an end. No hard feelings, OK? ... Yes. ... Uh-huh, me too. And I wish you the best. ... Yes, thanks. I'm going to try. ... OK, take care. Bye."

I was calmer now than when I'd heard her earlier conversations with him, and more able to think things through. On the one hand, it was clear that Marianne still wanted to stay married to me. She wasn't leaving me for Eddie. In fact, in all her conversations with him she had reminded him that her first priority was the marriage, and her extreme care in hiding her adultery from me seemed to prove that.

On the other hand, her obvious closeness and affection for Eddie tore me apart. A wild one-night stand, or even a two-week affair, would have been far easier to take than having to think about them fucking over and over for months—for who knew how long?

I realized that I still had no idea what I was going to do. I didn't know what I wanted—besides to wake up and find that Marianne's cheating was just one long nightmare. It had been two weeks since I found her thong with Eddie's cum in it, and five days since I'd confronted her with proof of her affair. I hadn't talked to her since then, though she'd called the office more than twenty times.

I guessed I'd just have to take it a day at a time. When I was ready to move forward, in any direction, I would know. Until then, I'd try just to keep busy and do a good job at work. Anything was better than spending hours staring at the walls, thinking of Marianne.

The following Tuesday I was working on some spreadsheets in my office when Marianne burst in, followed by Alice. Alice said, "Sorry, Tom, I told her you were unavailable but she just ran past me!" I said, "It's OK, Alice—I'll handle it. Thank you."
io©
At a few minutes past eight I knocked on the door. A nice touch, I thought—sends a clear message to Marianne that I don't live here anymore. She immediately opened the door, giving me a shy smile. She still looked pale, but had done her makeup very carefully. My wife was a beautiful woman—in any other context it would have taken my breath away just to look at her.

"Please come in, honey. Would you like a beer?"

I accepted one, and she led me into the living room, guiding me to one end of the sofa. She took the other end, tucking her legs underneath her and facing me. She was obviously incredibly nervous. All the poise I was so accustomed to seeing in Marianne, all the calm she had maintained when she lied to me about her affair, was gone now.

We just sat silently for a few moments, not really looking at each other. Then I decided to speak first.

"OK, Marianne, this is your show. I agreed to give you a chance to talk to me, and I will listen as calmly as I can. I'm not sure whether I'll have anything to say—I'll just play it by ear. Beyond listening to you, I can't promise anything."

"All right, sweetie," she said, almost in a whisper. She looked terrified, and my feelings for her swung back and forth between deep anger and equally deep sympathy. I had loved this woman for nearly all of my adult life. I had never been closer to any other human being, nor trusted one so completely. What did I feel for her now?

"Now that you're here, I'm almost afraid to begin," she said. "I've thought so many times about how to explain—I mean, try to explain, what I did. Finally I realized that I just plain fucked up. There's no way to tell it that will make it any less awful, any less selfish, any less unfair to you. So I'm just going to go ahead and tell it, however it comes out. I know you'll never forgive me—if you ever do—until I've done that."

"But before that, Tom, comes the most important thing. Everything I did—cheating with Eddie, lying to you—was totally my fault. You have been the best, most wonderful and loving husband any woman could have. I love you completely. I have never been unhappy in our marriage, or unsatisfied with our sex life together. You are a caring and exciting lover, and I love making love with you. None of this, none of what I did, had anything to do with dissatisfaction with you. Please believe me!"

I didn't say anything in reply, just nodded. But I liked what she had said.

"OK then." She seemed to be gathering her courage. "I have never—NEVER—done anything with any other man before Eddie. I was completely faithful to you until then, and I wanted to make sure you knew that. I met Eddie last August. He..."

I angrily interrupted. "You've been fucking that jerk for nearly a YEAR?!"

"No, Tom, no! Please listen! No, I haven't—just give me a chance to tell it, OK?"

"Sorry," I said. "I'll try not to interrupt again. Go ahead."

"I met Eddie in the hospital last August. You remember when my mother had surgery, and I pretty much lived in the waiting room for three days until she was out of danger? Well Eddie's brother was dying the same week, of lung cancer. He and I just began talking—two worried, sad people in the same waiting room. We spent a couple of hours together each day. The third afternoon, the nurse came to tell Eddie that his brother had died. He began to cry, and I was there to comfort him. I just held him in my arms for a while. His parents are dead, so this was his only close relative left, and ... I guess you get the picture."

I only nodded, and she went on. "That's all there was then, Tom—just two strangers, and a bit of comfort. I never thought I'd even see Eddie again, and I hardly thought about him after that. Until November."

She stopped and looked at me, perhaps afraid of another outburst. I silently did the math: November to July is still nine months of fucking my wife! But I said nothing, and let her continue.

"It was when you were on that four-day business trip in Phoenix. On the Friday night I had plans to go out with Susan and Whitney (two of Marianne's unmarried friends from her office), and they dragged me to a disco they liked. It was loud, and packed full of people, and lots of fun. You know Susan and Whitney—they love to flirt, and the three of us got lots of male attention. We had some drinks, danced with a lot of guys, and enjoyed ourselves."

"Around 11 we were sitting at our table when Eddie walked in with some friends of his. He spotted me, and brought his group over. I was genuinely glad to see him! I had felt so bad for him when his brother died; now he looked a lot more cheerful. We all made introductions, and they sat and drank with us, and we did lots of dancing. Since you were away I wasn't worried about the time, and it got kind of hot and I got kind of drunk, and ..."

She broke off. "Oh, Tom, I HATE this! It must seem so tawdry and dishonest and just plain STUPID, listening to me! But I swore to myself I would tell you every bit of the story that you want to hear. I will never lie to you again, and I will never fudge the story a little so I don't look quite so bad."

"All of us had done some fast dancing and some slow dancing, switching partners a lot. Two of Eddie's friends were making real progress with Susan and Whitney, and I guess Eddie was focusing more and more on me. I wasn't aware of that in particular, but when I think about it he managed to get me for several slow dances, and he was holding me very close. I felt his erection, but it just seemed kind of flattering, rather than any sort of dangerous situation."

"I realize you've never even seen Eddie. He's younger than we are—29. It's not that he's all that great-looking. He's shorter than you, medium height, medium build. Not bad, but he's not buff or anything, and wouldn't stand out in a crowd. Just a nice, ordinary guy."

I just listened, waiting for Marianne to get to the part that I knew was coming.

"We all got really hot from dancing. There was an open side door to the alley, and I told the group I was going out there for a minute to cool off. Eddie said he'd come along too. Standing outside in the dark, we were just laughing and joking, enjoying the cooler air; and then all of a sudden Eddie took me in his arms and kissed me."

She stopped. Clearly what she had to say next was difficult for her, and she glanced fearfully at me. "It's all right, Marianne. Go ahead—I have some idea what's coming next, and I've got to know. You might as well give me the whole story, with the nasty details."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

A CHEATED HUSBAND

PART 7

"OK, honey. Thank you for listening so patiently. This is just awful for me, and for you it must be ten times worse." She was nearly in tears, but trying hard to stay in control.

"Well he just kissed me, taking me completely by surprise, and before I knew it he had pressed me up against the wall and plastered his body against mine. I was about to cry out, push him away, slap him—and I just didn't. I was drunk, and thinking slowly, and ... and it just felt good. I liked kissing him, liked feeling his body and his hard-on pressing tightly up against me. And instead of pushing him away, I kissed him back. I put my arms around him, kissed him back, and let him stick his tongue in my mouth."

I could tell she was struggling to go on. I waited, quietly. There was nothing I could hear that could possibly be worse than what I had already imagined a thousand times.

"Well, we just ... went at it. Right there in the alley. You remember, Tom, that night before we were married, when we were a little drunk and we ... made love behind the bandshell in the park, while there was a concert going on? And it was outside, and someone could have wandered back there and seen us, and ... it was an incredible turn-on? Well, this was like that. Eddie had his hands all over me, one on my breast and the other up under my skirt, and I just wasn't thinking about anything except what he was doing to me. He was so excited and eager, breathing really hard, and it turned me on. My nipples got hard, and he was pinching them. He kept murmuring about how gorgeous I was, how I was the sexiest woman he had ever seen."

"He got his ... cock out, and I held it. It was so hard, and so hot! I began to stroke it, and he groaned into my ear. And his fingers were inside me, and I was soaking. His touch down there was driving me crazy. And then he pulled my skirt up, pushed my panties to the side, and just ... entered me." Marianne had turned away from me by now, and was looking across the room. She couldn't face me.

"We did it, there in the alley. He fucked me. He kept pushing me back against the wall, and humping at me like mad, grabbing my ass cheeks and pushing his tongue deep into my mouth. The two of us could hardly breathe. It was hot and exciting and nasty, and I came like crazy, and so did he. It was probably all over in about five minutes. And afterwards we clung to each other, and giggled. It just seemed so crazy! He kept whispering to me how hot I was, and how turned on he had been. And then we adjusted our clothes, and without really saying anything, we went back inside and rejoined our friends. They didn't even seem to notice we had been gone."

There was silence. I could tell that it had taken a lot out of Marianne to confess this much. I was angry, and I wanted to throw accusations and harsh words in her face—but I also knew that I had to hear the rest of the story. So I just quietly said, "OK, Marianne, go on. What happened after that?"

"Well, I was absolutely certain that would be the end of it. After another hour Susan and Whitney and I left, with no further kisses or anything from Eddie. They dropped me off here, and I collapsed into bed. When I woke up I felt incredibly guilty, but also somehow not guilty, you know?"

"It's hard to explain. The whole experience, out there in the alley, had been so ... out of context, separate from all the rest of my life, and our lives together, that it almost didn't seem to count. I knew I had committed adultery, I knew that I had been unfaithful to you, and that that was a terrible thing. Yet at the same time it just seemed kind of unreal, like a dream I had. And I knew you'd never find out, and I knew I'd never do it again, so I just sort of let it slide out of my mind. And I kind of imagined—I'm sure I thought of this so I'd feel less guilty—that the same thing might have happened to you on a business trip sometime, something fast and dirty and meaningless, and that I never would even have known."

"I never did that," I said, quietly but coldly. "Not once. And it's not like I never had chances. Once on a trip there was ... well, never mind. It's not important."

"I know, Tom," Marianne said. She was crying now. "I know how faithful you are, how you never would cheat on me like that. It was just a thought I had, so I could feel better about what I did."

"Then you came home from Phoenix that Sunday, and I was just so glad to see you. And we made love, and you were terrific, so passionate and loving and sweet. And that made my guilt flare up, but it also reassured me that nothing had changed, that you and I were still fine."

It was growing dark outside, and I could no longer see my wife's face. I quietly got up and turned on a couple of table lamps, then returned to my seat. Somehow the slow pace of her narration was keeping me calmer, almost like I was hypnotized. What she was telling me was incredibly painful, but at the same time I felt sort of anesthetized.

"I didn't have the slightest thought of ever seeing Eddie again, let alone ... having an affair with him. I ran into him in the supermarket a couple of weeks later, and didn't feel the slightest thrill. A flush of guilt, actually—but no excitement. We had a casual, five-minute conversation and went our separate ways. But I had happened to mention that you were going away again, and that got Eddie thinking."

"The next week Susan called, and I agreed to go out dancing with her on Saturday. This was in early December. She somehow knew you'd be away, though I hadn't told her. We tried a new club, and lo and behold, Eddie was there, with Jack, the friend of his who had been hitting on Susan. It turns out that Susan and Jack had started dating. Well, I found out later that this whole evening was a set-up. Eddie told Jack, who told Susan that you'd be away, and to invite me out dancing with her at that particular club."

"Tom," Marianne said in a pleading voice, and I looked at her. "This is the hardest part. What I did before that ... it was stupid, incredibly careless and stupid, but ... at least it was ... you, know, spontaneous." Her voice trembled. "A sudden burst of insanity, that I almost imagine you could eventually forgive. But what I did that Saturday night ... I don't have any excuse for. I'm ashamed. I hate myself for what I did, and that's the simple truth."

She seemed to wait for me to answer, but no words came to me. I managed to nod, and she went on.

"We all danced, and drank a bit, and had a good time. And when Susan said she was leaving with Jack, I knew I should let them drop me at home—but I didn't. I stayed with Eddie. I was having fun, and I wanted it to continue."

"Tom, we ... we went back to his apartment, and I spent the night with him. We had sex a lot ... several times. There was something about the wrongness of it, the dirtiness of it, that excited me, knowing that I was cheating on you, that this was ... sex with a man who wasn't my husband. Eddie is a bit younger, he's ... only 29, as I said, and the fact that he was so full of desire for a lady of nearly 40 was flattering. I was more ... more vocal than I usually am with you, and ... well, it was very exciting. I ... I, I came a lot."

Feeling absolutely numb, I spoke up for the first time in a while. "Marianne, at some point I may ask you more questions about that night." She hung her head, but nodded. "But for now, just go ahead with your story."

"When I left his apartment the next day ... oh Tom, I'm so sorry!" She wept into her hands, her shoulders shaking, and I silently waited for her to continue. Finally she regained some of her composure, and began to speak again.

"When I left his apartment, I knew I was going to keep ... seeing him. I knew that I couldn't justify doing it, I knew it was utterly wrong, and selfish. But I LIKED it. It had been the most exciting thing I'd done in years, and I liked it."

She looked at me. "Tom, making love with you is wonderful. You are so gentle, and sometimes so powerful, and you are so attentive to my pleasure. And I feel safe with you. But at the same time, after 16 years it has gotten ... maybe a bit 'familiar', or predictable? I'll bet you feel the same way."

"Anyway, with Eddie it was wild, and new, and very different. Not better, Tom! Never better than what you and I have. But different. And in some insane way I convinced myself that this was just something nice I was doing all for myself—the way some women go to a beauty spa, or treat themselves into a new outfit. I know that's crazy! But that's what I kept telling myself."

"From the very beginning, I told Eddie that I would do whatever it took to keep our ... relationship a secret. I told him I loved you—that this ... affair had nothing to do with that. I wanted my marriage to last, and my seeing him would never interfere with that."

"It was easy to arrange meetings, because my work schedule is so variable. I can be out of the office for hours without anyone thinking anything about it. I got a throw-away cell phone, and I only talked to Eddie on that, never on our other phones. We met at different places—but NEVER here, Tom, never in our house! I just wouldn't do that! It was motels, different ones. We didn't get too regular, because I didn't want our faces to be familiar to anyone."

As Marianne spoke I had gotten up and begun pacing around the room, without even noticing that I was doing it. The first part of her story hurt me, but in some way it soothed me as well. It made a kind of sense. I could imagine Marianne having fun dancing with her friends, and then the crazy spontaneity of sex outside with Eddie. Perhaps I might even have been able to forgive that.

What was still too hard to bear—what made me clench my fists in fury—was what happened afterwards. She had made a calm, cold-blooded decision to keep the relationship going. She knew what she was doing, she knew how it would destroy me if I found out, and she did it anyway.

I turned and faced her. "Is there more, Marianne?" My voice came out rougher, harsher than I had expected. She shrank back from me, her eyes wide.

"N-no, honey," she answered, fearfully. "I'll answer any question you ask, tell you anything you want to know, but not really. We ... kept getting together, sometimes twice or three times a week, sometimes less. It depended on my work, and on your business trips. I never let my ... meetings with Eddie interfere with any plans you and I had."

She looked up at me, suddenly even more worried. "Tom, there is one more thing. When you were away on business trips I ... usually spent the night at Eddie's apartment. That way we didn't have to get a motel room, and ... we had more time together."

This hurt. A lot. In light of everything else, I didn't understand why the thought of Marianne in Eddie's bed all night was so much worse than her in bed with him for a couple of afternoon hours in a motel room, but it was. Maybe it stemmed from the relaxed familiarity I heard on the tape. Somehow it wasn't just the sex—it was hearing them together, being easy and fond with each other. I could almost see them in Eddie's apartment. Greeting each other excitedly, passionately fucking, then relaxing, sharing dinner or a couple of beers, watching TV together, then more sex ... then sleeping cuddled up, with more sex during the night or the next morning.

It was that picture of happy intimacy—the intimacy that I thought she had shared only with me—that made my anger boil up again.

"Well, Marianne, it's quite a story." I spoke coldly. She sat with her head down, not replying. She could surely tell that angry words were coming. I felt desperate to hurt her, or at least to make sure that she understood how deeply hurt I was feeling.

"Do you love him?" She looked at me in shock. "Of course not! It was never anything like that!"

"OK, then," I replied coldly. "Suppose you tell me just how you do feel about the man you were fucking and sucking for eight months, and spending the night with on a regular basis. Are the two of you 'friends'? Are you 'fond' of him? Is he a 'special person' you 'really care about'? Is there a 'unique bond' between you, a 'special closeness'?"

I spat these phrases at her, and she started to cry again.

"I know I deserve this, Tom. I deserve whatever you want to say to me, whatever you want to do. I don't know if I can say how I felt about him. Like a ... friend, I guess. OK, the truth: I WAS fond of him. I felt close to him—after all we had been sharing ... intimacies for several months."

I wanted to shout at her that I'd heard the fondness on the tape—that that fondness was the single biggest thing that was tearing my guts out. But I wasn't ready to confess that yet. Instead I had one final angry question for her.

"OK, Marianne. You said you told him that the marriage came first, that you would never let your ... 'get-togethers' with Eddie interfere with anything in our married life together. Have I got that right?" She nodded.

"Well, then, perhaps you could explain to me why you fucked him—you cheated on me—the day of our 16th wedding anniversary! Perhaps you could help me understand why he fucked you so thoroughly that day that you had the "honeymoons". Perhaps there's some good reason why you were so sore that night that you wouldn't let me fuck you—on our wedding anniversary!"
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My heart was racing so fast as I drove away that I had to force myself to slow down, to breathe deeply, not to drive 80 mph or run through red lights. I had no idea where I was going, no idea what I was going to do next.

It almost made me laugh. "I don't know what to do in the next five minutes; and I don't know what to do with the rest of my life."

At that moment there were only two things I was sure of. The first was that I still loved Marianne. I still wanted, despite everything, to be married to her.

But the second was that I absolutely could not imagine any way of getting past what she had done. I couldn't even begin to see how I could get over this, how I could stop being so angry and hurt that I wanted just to yell at her, to make her cry.

How would I ever be able to make love to her again? Even thinking about kissing her, I heard her in my mind kissing Eddie, or saying "God, it's so big, and so hard, and so beautiful!" I imagined them in the shower together, or lounging around Eddie's apartment after sex, relaxing and looking forward to the next time.

She had taken something she promised to share only with me—her most personal, intimate and vulnerable self—and given it to another man. No matter what else ever happened between us, it could never be just for me again.

It was even clearer to me now than before that it wasn't the fucking itself that mainly mattered. Had she just had that hot quickie outside the dance club, I know I would have been able to get over it. Not without some serious anger and pain, but I'm certain I could have put it behind me. And if I felt it necessitated some revenge, by way of a quickie with someone else on my part, well then Marianne would just have had to deal with it.

But the sustained relationship she had had with Eddie—the familiarity and intimacy that had developed between them over eight months—the depth of that betrayal took my breath away.

And there was an additional element: the sense of humiliation I felt at having been deceived for so long. For eight months my wife had been happily having sex with me, sharing caresses and loving words with me. Then she'd been getting out of my bed and going off to do the same thing with another man. How could she not have been thinking of him, some of the time she was making love with me? How could she not have started to think less of me, knowing that she had this secret, this power over me?

I found myself driving past a bar on Front St. that I had been in a few times before. For lack of anything better to do, I went in, sat at the bar, and had a beer. On the TV the Indians game was in the 4th inning. They were already losing by six runs. "Typical," I said to myself, thinking that my life was going sort of like the Indians game—or their season.

After two beers, I got up and headed back to my apartment. I had considered getting drunk, but it didn't appeal to me. I realized on the drive that I hadn't even looked around the bar to see if there were any women there. It may be that some cuckolded husbands immediately think of revenge, of tearing off a piece with someone else, but that didn't seem to interest me at all.

That night I had another nightmare, worse than the previous one. Marianne and I were in our bedroom, making love. First she was lying back, purring happily, smiling at me, as I sucked on her nipples and caressed her pussy with my fingers. Then, at her urging, I climbed onto her and began to fuck her gently in the missionary position. It was unhurried and relaxed, and we were both enjoying it. But after a couple of minutes I looked around and realized that our bed was now on a stage in an auditorium, and the hall was filled with hundreds of people watching us. I began to feel pressure to please Marianne, and I fucked her more energetically, kissing her and licking her neck. But something had changed—she was no longer enjoying it, and the harder I tried to give her pleasure, the more bored she looked.

Then suddenly a man with a clipboard came up to the bed, shouted "Time!", and a couple of guys pulled me out of the bed and off to the side. Another man walked onto the stage, his erect cock waving in front of him, and jumped into bed with Marianne. She greeted him eagerly, with an excited smile, and in no time they were fucking. From the very beginning Marianne was more enthusiastic and involved with him than she had been with me. He was getting her more and more excited, and her moans were so loud they could be heard throughout the auditorium. She looked only at him, never once even glancing at me. With each of his thrusts she rotated her hips, trying to get him deeper into her. I could hear the audience's rising excitement. Just as the man with the clipboard approached the bed she reached an enormous orgasm, crying out "Oh my God! Oh Eddie! My God! yes, fuck me!" It seemed that Eddie came just as she did.

After the two lovers collapsed in each other's arms, the clipboard man called "Time!" and the audience burst into a sustained ovation. They got up from the bed, naked and sweaty, waved to the audience with big grins on their faces, and walked off-stage arm in arm, leaving me forgotten and alone on the other side of the stage.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

A CHEATED HUSBAND

PART 8


When I woke up I was agitated and disoriented. As sometimes happens after nightmares, it took a minute or two before I had any idea where I was, and before I realized that it had just been an awful dream. I dragged myself into the shower and tried to calm down.

When I got to work my friend Steve intercepted me before I even reached my office. "How are you, Tom? Andrea and I have been thinking of you. Have you got a minute?"

He came into my office and shut the door. "Is there anything we can do, Tom?"

I shook my head. "Thanks, Steve. I'm okay. I'm certainly not happy, but I'm surviving."

He said, "I wanted you to know that Andrea spoke to Marianne last night—it must have been after you left the house. They had a long conversation, and Andrea wondered if she could have lunch with you and tell you about it."

I thought for a minute. "I guess that's OK, Steve. Why don't you ask her to meet me here at 12:30. Do you want to join us?"

"I don't think so. I have the feeling that it will be easier for Andrea to talk to you without anyone else there—even me."

I thanked Steve and tried to focus on my work for the rest of the morning.

When Andrea arrived, we went to a luncheonette nearby and ordered, then she sat back and looked at me.

"Tom, you know I am so very sorry about what has happened. And I want to help, but I don't want to do anything that feels intrusive and inappropriate to you. Steve and I care about both you and Marianne, and we are just so sad for you both."

"Thank you, Andrea. I know you care for both of us, and I certainly don't mind your having talked to Marianne. I'm angry at her, but I love her too—I don't want her to lose her friends over this."

Andrea paused for a moment, then spoke. "Would it be all right if I told you some of what Marianne and I discussed last night?" I nodded.

"Well, Tom, as you must know she's absolutely devastated. One of the things you may not realize is that throughout this affair, she was completely convinced that you would never find out about it. Of course she knew the cheating was wrong—it was terrible, Tom! I still don't know what the hell she was thinking!" Her eyes flashed, and I could tell she was furious at Marianne too. I was grateful to Andrea for feeling that way.

"But the way she justified it to herself was by telling herself that you would never ever know about it, and so you would never be hurt. Because of that, she had never thought through what finding out about the affair would do to you. Your wife is a smart woman, but she was spectacularly dumb about this, I'd have to say."

"So what that means now, to put it bluntly, is that she has a lot of catching up to do. She feels terribly guilty and sad, she knows that she has hurt you badly, she is unhappy and frightened that you've left the house, and she's terrified about the future of your marriage. But even now, Tom, I don't think she fully understands how and why this is so painful for you."

I looked at Andrea as I thought about this, and as the waitress brought our sandwiches. An idea occurred to me, and I filed it away to think about later. "That makes sense, Andrea. But it's not clear to me what I'm supposed to do about it."

"Just keep talking with her, Tom. If your marriage is going to survive, the two of you are going to have to discuss every aspect of this, explore all the feelings each of you has, and hope that you can reach some resolution and some reconciliation. I'm no therapist, but I don't see it working any other way. Certainly if feelings of anger or guilt get swept under the rug, they're going to eat away at the two of you until they destroy your relationship."

"You are probably right," I replied. "In fact I've been thinking some of the same things. I guess I'll call Marianne and set up another time for us to talk. Thank you, Andrea. Were there other things that came up in your conversation with her that I should know about?"

"Yes, Tom, two things above all. The first is simply that she loves you desperately. She's beside herself with fear that she's lost you, that your marriage won't survive this. It's not just that she feels guilty, though of course she does. She also is suffering because the man she loves is suffering."

I had to close my eyes for a moment, feeling the pain rush back. I tried to smile at Andrea. "I guess we both know WHY the man she loves is suffering, don't we?" I attempted a light-hearted tone, but I didn't really succeed.

Andrea took my hand. "Yes, we both know, Tom," she said gently.

After a quiet minute, I asked, "what's the second thing?"

"It's that she's willing to do absolutely anything to save your marriage, but she doesn't have any idea what to do. I tell you, Tom, if cutting off her left arm would do it, she'd probably have the knife out already. But she really doesn't even know where to begin the process of making up for this."

I sighed. "Well, last night was certainly a first step. As she must have mentioned to you, she told me pretty much the whole story of the affair: how it began, when and where they met, etc. Hearing it was every bit as bad as I imagined it would be, but at least I know the facts now."

Andrea asked me another question. "DO you have any idea what you'd like her to do at this point?"

"No, no idea at all. As you said a few minutes ago, she and I are going to have to talk and talk. But beyond that I don't know what to suggest. I'll tell you, Andrea, I've thought of some wild things: I could go on an exotic vacation without her, I could go out and get myself laid, I could fight her for custody of the kids when they come back from camp at the end of the summer, I could even move away and get a new job somewhere else—crazy things like that. But they all feel like pointless attempts to cause her pain, and none of them appeals to me in the least."

"I'd wondered about going out and getting laid, Tom. Certainly no one would think any less of you if you did that."

"I don't know why, Andrea, but I just don't want to. I don't seem to have any interest in sleeping with anybody else right now. And of course, I don't have any interest in sleeping with Marianne, either—I can't even imagine it without my mind filling with images of her with Eddie."

Andrea brushed away a couple of tears. "I guess maybe that must be one of the worst things, Tom. The fact that making love together, which could be such a healing thing for a couple, would just pull the wounds wide-open again."

"Yes," I said, "and I don't have any idea if that will ever stop being true. If we can't get past that problem, there's no way our marriage will survive."

We were quiet for a few moments, each of us thinking our own thoughts. I realized that the two things Andrea had told me about Marianne matched perfectly the two thoughts I had had the previous night. First, she loved me, as I still loved her. And second, neither of us had any idea about how to get past our current problems, though we both wanted to.

I paid the check and we got up to leave. On our walk back from the restaurant I said, "Thank you, Andrea. You are a true friend—I value your support so much, and that of Steve. You guys have been terrific."

"All we want is for you and Marianne to find a way to be happy again. Please let us know if there's anything we can do. Would you like to come over for dinner sometime this weekend?

"Thanks—let me think about what I'll be doing, and I'll give you a call."

After we said our good-byes I went back to my office. Sitting on my desk was a wrapped present, about the size of a small tissue box. When I unwrapped it I found a small jack-in-the box, with childish colorful designs painted on it. I smiled, then turned the crank. With a loud "bang" the lid flew open, and up popped a clown head with a wide smile on its face. Tied around its neck with a little piece of a thread was a note saying "Hang in There!"

I laughed, probably for the first time in three weeks, and I saw Alice's smiling face peeking around the door watching me. "This is great! Was this from you?" I asked.

"Just a little something from a few of us who care about you," she answered.

"Well I love it! I'm going to pop this guy up every little while for the rest of the day!" I said with a smile. "Please give my thanks to everyone for this."

I closed my office door. After popping up my new toy a couple more times, for luck, I dialed Marianne's office number. When she answered I said, "Hi, it's me."

"Hi, Tom." She seemed pleased to hear from me, but also wary. I guess that was not hard to understand, given how I had left her the previous night.

"I had a good talk with Andrea today," I said. "Do you think that you and I could get together tonight and talk some more?"

"Of course," she said, less wary now. "May I cook you dinner this time?"

"No, I think I don't want to come back to the house tonight. How would you feel about coming to my apartment, and I'll make something?"

After a moment she said, "that would be great, Tom!" I gave her the address and we agreed to meet at 6:30. Then, without any further conversation, I told her I needed to get back to work, and we said goodbye.

I left work early to get some groceries and prepare dinner. I realized that I wanted to impress Marianne, to cook her a dinner far better than she would expect I could manage. That interested me. I guessed that I was seeking to find a way to feel more in control. Her affair and her deception had made me a victim—a humiliating position to be in. Inviting her to my apartment, like making the dinner myself, represented steps by me to take charge of the situation. That seemed like a good thing. I continued to think about the plan that had occurred to me during my lunch with Andrea.

When she arrived I showed her directly to the table. I had made spaghetti with a white clam sauce (with fresh clams in it), an elaborate salad with mandarin orange slices, and garlic bread. I had considered a nice bottle of wine as well, and flowers on the table, but then rejected both of those angrily. This wasn't a date, dammit! I settled for two simple place-settings, and water for each of us.

As she sat down Marianne looked around the dreary apartment and said, gamely, "this is nice".

"It's just a basic furnished apartment, Marianne. Not much personality—purely functional, though it is nice and clean. You don't have to try to praise it." I hadn't meant to put her down, but she seemed a bit cowed by my words, maybe feeling that I was being sarcastic, and we ate silently for a few minutes.

Then she spoke again. "Tom, I hope you don't mind my saying so, but this is a marvelous dinner! I haven't been giving you enough credit for your cooking! The clams are just delicious, and I love the salad."

"Thank you Marianne. I certainly haven't been eating like this all the time, but tonight I felt like doing something more ambitious."

She looked at me a bit fearfully. "Do you think you'll be ... staying in this apartment a long time?" I knew what that meant, of course—it meant, When will you be coming home?

"I just don't know, honey." I stopped suddenly, uncomfortable that I had addressed her by a familiar endearment. "Marianne, I don't know what's going to happen next. I know that I love you, and I want our marriage to survive." She broke into a smile, though at the same time I could see tears threatening to flow from her eyes.

"But I don't know what we'll have to do to make that happen. Inviting you here to talk some more seemed like the right next step."

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, and the tears dropped onto her cheeks. Then without a word she took my hand across the table, pulled it to her, and fervently kissed the back of it. The loving gesture was so familiar to me. I remembered that the last time she had done it was while we were driving back from our Lake Forbes picnic, the day after I'd found her panties and first learned of her affair. That seemed like a decade ago.

Marianne held onto my hand; she sat up straight, her cheeks still glistening, and looked straight at me. "Tom, I want you to know something. I will do anything, and I mean ANYTHING, to make up for this. I know that the pain you're suffering is all my fault, and I ... and I ..."

Suddenly she couldn't speak any more, and a moment later she was sobbing, her head buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking. Without thinking I went around the table, pulled her to her feet and took her in my arms. She cried hard for several minutes as I held her tightly, her face nestled into my shoulder. At that moment I didn't feel the pain of my situation—I was only aware of how good it felt to have Marianne in my arms.

When her crying had subsided, she raised her head to look at me. It seemed that she wanted to kiss me, but didn't dare. She said, "Thank you Tom, for holding me. I didn't know I was going to cry, it just ... sneaked up on me."

Without replying I got out a tissue and gently wiped the tears off her face, then helped her back into her chair. I realized that once again I had taken action —without thinking about it I had embraced her and comforted her—and that it had felt good.

"Do you think you can still enjoy the rest of dinner?" I asked. She nodded, and I said, "Good, because I made a blueberry pie for dessert." I enjoyed her look of pleasure and surprise.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

part10



After dinner we took our coffee cups and sat on the sofa in my tiny living room. "That was a lovely meal, Tom—thank you so much." Marianne clearly didn't know what would happen next; and of course, neither did I.

"Thank you, Marianne. For some reason I wanted to impress you. One of the things that has been bothering me about our whole situation is the way I feel like the passive victim. Things have been done TO me. I think that by inviting you here, and by showing you that I could do more than cook a hot dog, I'm trying to take an active role in ... resolving, or trying to resolve, our situation."

I went on. "I have a million things I feel the need to talk about with you—to say to you, or to ask. And they're all jumbled in my mind, without any sense of order. So I'm just going to talk about whatever pops up, without worrying too much if it's logical." She nodded her agreement.

"One place to start is how I'm feeling about your cheating, and your lying to me. When I spoke to Andrea today, she felt that you hadn't yet really come to understand all that I've been feeling. And I certainly know that before we can come out the other end of this, you're going to have to know—and acknowledge —everything that is upsetting me."

"So here is one thing. Not necessarily the biggest or most important, but one thing: you made me a sucker. For eight months you've been fucking another man, meeting him regularly, developing an intimate relationship with him; and I've been totally in the dark. While I was thinking that I was the only man you were close to, you've been able to feel the delicious pleasure of your secret. When I kissed you passionately, or whispered affectionate words to you in bed, you knew—but I didn't—that another man also got to do that with you. When we made love, you could be thinking about how someone else did that. You could compare my cock to his, my tongue to his, my energy or gentleness or stamina to his—AND I WOULD NEVER KNOW IT."


Marianne looked at me sadly. "Tom, I never compared you to ... to Eddie. That was never what this was all about."

I responded quickly, and sharply. "Can you tell me that you never once thought about him while you were in bed with me? Can you look me in the eye and say that you never once, while I was stroking your breasts or licking your pussy or fucking you, thought about Eddie doing those things? When we finished making love, and lay together happily in each other's arms, can you swear that you never thought about how it felt to be lying in Eddie's arms after sex?"

She had looked away during these questions—it was obvious what the answer was. "No, Tom. I admit ... sometimes I thought those things."

"Well, how nice for you," I said angrily. "You had a secret—you knew something I didn't know. I opened myself up to you totally, let myself be completely vulnerable to you, thinking that I was your only lover as you were mine. I never dreamed, if I gasped in pleasure or made a strange face as I came inside you, that what I did would become fuel for your comparisons."

She didn't speak for a minute or so. "That was never the point of it for me, Tom. But I see what you are saying. This is just one of many ways I guess my thoughtlessness has hurt you."

"Let me continue," I pressed on in an angry voice, but taking care not to shout at her. "I'm sure that part of the excitement each time you ... fucked that guy was the fact that it was cheating, that he was not your same old husband of many years, whose every move you could predict. I don't like that one bit, but I can understand it. What is far worse for me is the excitement having sex with me must have brought you, knowing that you also had an illicit lover who did the same things with you."

"I keep thinking of the Tuesday I recorded you with Eddie. You fucked him for two hours in a motel room, then came home that night smiling. You looked fantastic —your skin glowed, your eyes sparkled, you were full of joy and full of life. And after dinner you tried to drag me upstairs to bed to make love, knowing all the while that you'd fucked your lover earlier the same day!"

"Don't you see? Whenever you and I made love, there were three people in our bed. You brought your lover there with us, inside your head, AND I NEVER KNEW A DAMN THING ABOUT IT!"

She remained silent, her head lowered. "You played me for a fool, Marianne!" She raised her head suddenly and began to speak, then thought better of it. We both sat in silence for several minutes, and then I went on.

"Maybe we should talk about the lying now. I can certainly understand how carefully you hid your affair, and why. You are a smart lady—that's a big part of why I married you!" I managed a small smile.

"But when I found those thong panties, and I asked you about them the next day —that was hard to take. I even began by telling you how much I loved you, and how our relationship was the most important thing in our life, except for the children. I assured you that if I had ever done anything to jeopardize our life together, I'd tell you, and try to make it up to you. I went on and on. And then you looked me in the eye, and gave me a bunch of BULLSHIT about how it was my cum in the panties—how we'd had sex the night before I went to Chicago, which was just total crap."

She started to reply but I cut her off. "Let me go on a minute. Then later, when I played you the recording of you talking to Eddie on your cell phone, you still managed an exquisite fairy-tale about how he was your celebrity client, and you had to meet him in secret in motels. You should write fiction, Marianne!" I laughed bitterly.

"So tell me, please," I concluded. "Why did you lie and lie and lie? Why did you lie shamelessly to my face? Was it just so you could continue your affair? Or did you enjoy the thought that I was still a dumb-shit husband, still totally in the dark about what was going on behind my back?"

Marianne waited until she was sure I was finished speaking, then began to reply. There was pain in her face, but she was calm and dry-eyed.

"Sweetheart—one thing I hope you'll be able to believe. I hated lying to you. HATED it. But I couldn't cheat on you without doing it, could I? Especially when you asked me questions like that. Please believe what I'm about to say. The one thing I swore to myself, from the beginning when I realized I was going to keep seeing Eddie, was that you would never know. I didn't let myself think of how much it would hurt you. I should have, of course, but I didn't."

"Instead, I just kept telling myself, 'no matter what happens, Tom will never know about my affair. I won't let him be hurt by what I'm doing.' That was always my plan. I see now what a stupid plan it was..."

"Anyway, Tom, when you confronted me with those panties I just froze. It was a complete surprise, I didn't know they were lying around like that. All I knew is that I couldn't possibly confess the truth, and let you be so badly hurt. So I lied as plausibly as I could, and I was so relieved when you seemed to believe it! I said a little prayer, 'Thank you thank you thank you!' I was just so glad that my secret was safe, because it meant you weren't hurt."

"The very next morning I called Eddie and told him we had to cool it, and be extra careful. I cancelled a ... meeting we had scheduled, and I didn't see him again for more than a week, on the Tuesday when you must have tape-recorded us somehow. I had managed to convince myself that, though you were still suspicious, you had calmed down. I didn't suspect you were checking on me so carefully. I guess I forgot how smart YOU are!"

"Anyway, on the Wednesday when you played the tape of my phone call to Eddie the same thing happened. I froze, in a total panic! Then it occurred to me that I could possibly explain it away—I instantly came up with that crazy story about his being a celebrity client and needing privacy. For just a moment I thought you had believed that too, and I was relieved. And then you played more of your tape, the one of him and me ... together, in the motel ...."

"Then I realized what a total fool I had been. All I wanted then was a chance to explain it all to you, but you walked out on me. Not that I didn't deserve it! I don't know what I expected.... I just had convinced myself all along that you would never, never find out."

"So my lying was for you, Tom—I didn't want you to be hurt. That must sound absolutely pathetic now, self-serving and horrible. But it gave me no pleasure to lie to you—I didn't feel any sense of triumph when I thought you believed me. I just wanted so desperately for you not to know ... I guess so you wouldn't feel the way you're feeling now."

"OK, Marianne. I guess I understand what you're saying. But, please, be honest with me. After I first asked you about an affair, when I found the panties, did you ever think of just ending it with Eddie? Instead of just being more cautious, and hiding your affair more carefully, did you consider breaking it off?"

Her silence, and a sudden burst of tears, gave me my answer. Finally she said, "no, honey," in a tiny voice. "I have been such a total idiot! I was so caught up in my own stupidity that even then, I didn't see the danger I was in! I am so sorry!"

"Is it over now, Marianne?"

"Of course, Tom!" She cried more loudly. "I called him the morning after you ... left the house, and I told him it was over. He argued a little, but I didn't give him any choice about it. I swear, Tom, it's over with Eddie forever!" Because of the last recording I had heard of Marianne in the car, I knew what she was telling me the truth.

I let her cry for a minute or two. Then, quietly, I asked, "Marianne, if I hadn't found out about your affair, how long do you think it would have gone on?"

She looked up at me in surprise. "I don't know," she said. "I know that it wouldn't have been a long long time. After all that time it wasn't as ... it wasn't as exciting and crazy as it had been at the beginning." I grimaced at her words, thinking of the fondness she and Eddie had shown in the motel room, and she cried out, "I'm sorry, Tom!"

"No," I said, "go ahead."

"Well, it was becoming more of a settled thing, and I think it would have just continued cooling off in ... I don't know, a few more months. I think we would finally have just ... looked at each other and said, that's it. We're done."

For no other reason than because I was in pain, I said, "Maybe that's where we are, Marianne. Maybe after 16 years we've cooled off, and it's time to say 'We're done'." I didn't believe my own words. It was pretty clear to me I was trying to hurt her—but I also wanted to see what she would say.

"No Tom!" Marianne nearly jumped up from the sofa. "That's not how I feel at all! My love for you is deeper now than it was when we were married. You are more important to me than you've ever been! The only thing that has been getting me through each day, these past two weeks, is the hope that we'll be able to get past this and be a loving, happy husband and wife again. I will NEVER stop loving you, and I will never be out of your life unless you push me out once and for all."

I wasn't ready to let her off the hook yet. "Well, you've come damn close to doing that already, Marianne.'

She just nodded unhappily. "I know I have."

We sat for another minute or two, and then I said, "There's one more thing I want to bring up tonight. Obviously we'll need to have many more conversations, but tonight's talk has probably been painful enough for both of us already. I want you to tell me about our anniversary, and about the 'honeymoons'."

"Marianne," and I looked right into her eyes, "how could you have ... slept with him on our anniversary? How COULD you?"

She flushed, and looked down at her hands. She must have known I'd bring this up, because I'd mentioned it in one of our earlier conversations.

"I didn't ... see Eddie on our anniversary, Tom. It was the day before. We hadn't been together for nearly two weeks, because he was away on vacation, and ... I guess we were extra horny. Eddie had wanted to meet the next day, which would have been our anniversary, and I told him absolutely not. But I think there was something about ... doing it with me just before our anniversary that was a special turn-on for him. He kept mentioning it while we were together, and ... oh, Tom, I'm so sorry!"

She started to cry again, but I just looked at her quietly. I wasn't about to let her off the hook.

"Well," she finally continued, "he made love to me over and over. He was just wild for it that day. I think we did it four times that afternoon, and a couple of times he was extra forceful and a bit rough. I was sore for the next couple of days. I had been looking forward to you and me making love the night of our anniversary, and at first I didn't know what I was going to do. But I had that lovely new nightie I knew you would like, and I thought that if I just gave you some extra loving with my mouth ... it would still be okay."

I just sat there, thinking. Obviously the turn-on for Eddie had been lording it over me—getting every last ounce of sex out of his lover, my wife, the day before our anniversary. He figured I'd never know what he had over me, but HE would know. I couldn't even be that angry with him about it. I obviously didn't think much of a guy who would screw a married woman, but that competitive feeling was not hard for me to identify with. He wasn't worth my worrying about—if it weren't for Marianne agreeing to it, they never would have had an affair.

My wife was an extremely attractive woman. She wasn't just physically beautiful, she was also full of life, interesting to talk to, intelligent, and lots of fun. What man wouldn't want to have her, given half a chance? It just didn't seem worth the energy to hate Eddie. My anger was for Marianne. She was the one who had stolen something from me—Eddie had pretty much just taken what she had offered him.

"Well, Marianne, I want to make sure you know how I feel about that. It's obvious that Eddie loved the chance to fuck you from here to Borneo the day before our anniversary, to stake his claim on you the day before I would have had the chance to do it. I don't know if he knew that he left you with the 'honeymoons', and I don't want to know."

"But you must see that your actions those two days were another sort of betrayal of me. Eddie came first—pardon the Goddam pun!" I laughed bitterly for a moment. "He got what he wanted, because you let him have it. And the net result is that my wife was unavailable to me, on our anniversary no less. Whatever you may have been thinking as you gave me that blow-job, you can surely see how it feels to me now. That was my cheating wife, doing what she had to do to keep me in the dark. Doing what was necessary to prevent me touching her pussy, and realizing what she had been doing to make it so sore."

Marianne hadn't raised her head in several minutes. Now, without looking at me, she said, "yes, Tom. I understand what you're saying. I am SO sorry. I know I keep saying that, but that doesn't mean it's not true. I was selfish and stupid. I am so very sorry for all of this."

We sat for several minutes without speaking or looking at one another. I had thought about how I wanted to bring the evening to an end, and now I went ahead with my plan.

"I think we should stop for tonight, Marianne. Would that be all right with you?" She smiled at me sadly, her eyes red and swollen, and nodded.

I continued. "But I'd like to suggest that each of us try something. How about if we plan to talk again in two days, on Sunday? I'll come by the house in the afternoon. And between now and then, each of us should try to write down what we think the other one is feeling about this ... whole situation. So I'll try to think like you, Marianne, and write down what your feelings are, and you do the same for me. Then we'll share those when we get together again."

She looked at me, thinking about it. It wasn't an unreasonable request, and I knew that she would agree, especially after having said she would do absolutely anything to make the situation better.

"OK, Tom. I don't immediately see the point, but I will try. And I guess I've spent a lot of time thinking about my own feelings—perhaps I owe it to you to try to consider yours as fully as I can."

"Thank you, Marianne. I'm hoping this will be a helpful step."

I walked her downstairs and held the door as she got into her car. Just before she started the engine I said, "oh, Marianne, one more thing. We're trying to be completely honest with each other, so there's something I need to tell you about."

She looked up at me, waiting. "I've been seeing someone else. Well, sleeping with her, actually. It's a woman at one of the firms we do business with. We had a drink a couple of weeks ago after work—it was two nights after I left the house—and wound up in bed together. And I've seen her a few times since then. I thought you should know."

Marianne's lip quivered, and she looked absolutely shocked. I'm sure she was wondering if I was telling the truth.

"Is this for real, Tom? Or are you just trying to get even a little by telling me this story? Not that I would have the right to blame you .... Are you really ... sleeping with someone else?"

"Yes, but I don't think I should say anymore about it right now, Marianne. We'll talk again in a couple of days."

And without giving her a chance to say anything else, I walked several steps back to the doorway of my apartment building, ready to wave to her as she left. She obviously didn't want to leave without asking more questions, but after a minute she realized I was finished talking to her, and she drove away.

Smiling a little to myself, I hurried back up to my apartment. I wanted to phone Steve and Andrea before Marianne could reach them.

When I called, Steve answered. "Hi, Tom, I'm so glad you called! How are things going? Can you come have a barbecue with the two of us tomorrow, about 5pm?"

"I'd love to, Steve—thanks. But I could I speak to both you and Andrea on the phone tonight for just a moment?" He called to his wife, and after a minute she picked up on another extension.

"I'm going to ask your help on something," I said to both of them. "I've just told Marianne a white lie, and I want you to back me up. I told her that I've started seeing, and sleeping with, someone I met through work. I said that it began a couple of nights after I left the house."

"So you're not actually seeing someone, Tom?" Andrea asked.

"No—I still don't feel the least bit interested in any other women at the moment," I replied. "But I was thinking about what you said to me today at lunch: that Marianne doesn't really understand how it feels to be in my shoes right now. I thought this might be a way for her to experience it for herself. And I will confess that it also feels like a tiny bit of revenge—ultimately harmless revenge—for what she has done."

"It makes sense to me, Tom," Steve said. "What can we do to help?"

"Well, I'm guessing that Marianne will call to speak to you, perhaps even tonight. She can't really tell if my story is true, or whether I made it up just to hurt her. So I'd like you to string her along a little. You can act reluctant, hem and haw a little, and finally admit that you got the impression from me that I was seeing someone, but you don't know any of the details."

They both laughed, and Andrea said, "no problem! We'll take care of it, Tom. When she's done speaking to us, she'll be more worried than ever!"

---

[Ramesh_Rocky]

part11


"Thanks to both of you. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, and if Marianne has called you can tell me all about it."

As I went to bed that night I felt a bit more hopeful than I had since the beginning of this painful business. In a small way I'd taken a few forward steps: I had taken the initiative and been more active, rather than simply letting my pain paralyze me.

I had no idea what the result of my tale to Marianne would be. But if nothing else, it would give her some uncomfortable hours of thought. I still loved my wife, after all that had happened. But I was also still deeply hurt and absolutely furious at her, and I didn't mind the idea that I wouldn't be the only one in the marriage who was suffering.

The next day was Saturday. For the first time in a while, I woke up without remembering a nightmare. I was feeling a little lazy, having missed my regular morning jogs with Marianne, so I took a three-mile run, did some sit-ups and push-ups, then showered. I felt pretty good, at least when I didn't think about Marianne and Eddie together.

After running a few errands, I joined Andrea and Steve at their house at 5pm, as agreed. They relaxed in the back yard, enjoying the warm weather and a few cold beers.

Andrea was eager to tell me her story. "Just as you guessed, Tom, Marianne called us last night! She couldn't talk about anything but your 'affair'. She didn't wait even a moment, just blurted out, 'I think Tom is having an affair with someone—do you know anything about it?' "

I laughed. "What did you tell her?"

"Pretty much what you suggested. I acted embarrassed at first, and I said that you could hardly blame him. Then I confessed that you had mentioned something about a woman, but had hardly told us anything. She seemed really upset about it. I asked her how the rest of the evening had gone, and she hardly said anything. She told me you made her a fabulous dinner, but didn't say much about your conversation."

"I have you to thank for this, Andrea," I said. "Yesterday you helped me see that Marianne hadn't really been working very hard to understand how much I've been suffering, and why. So I did two things. First, she and I are each going to imagine being in the other one's shoes, and write down what we think the other one is feeling. And second, I've begun this nonsense about my seeing someone else. I have the feeling that that will really help her understand what I've been going through!"

We all laughed, but then Steve looked a little more serious. "How is this going to play out, Tom? Do you intend to tell her the truth, or are you going to keep up this story about your affair? And are you thinking about actually seeing someone else?"

"Steve, I'm just taking it one step at a time. I'm still not interested in sex at the moment—not with Marianne, not with anyone else. I was in a bar the other night, and I realized on the way home that I hadn't even looked around to see if there were any women in the place. I think ... the pain I'm feeling about Marianne's cheating has gotten in the way of my libido, at least for right now."

"As for keeping the story going—I'm going to stay with it, at least for a few days. If I get a chance, I may even tell Marianne some of the details about my sex life with this imaginary lady. She's hardly in a position to tell me I have no right to be screwing somebody. I can even tell her that she's better off than I was about Eddie, because she knows what's going on!"

I concluded, "in the long run I don't know whether I'll tell her the truth. I just know that I'm still hurting so much. The idea of making love to her again still fills me with rage. And I've realized that letting myself be the passive victim is the worst thing I can do. Making up a fake affair to torment my wife with seems like a weird strategy—but at the moment it's making me feel a bit better. At least I'm taking some action."

Andrea and Steve both nodded. "That makes a lot of sense to me, Tom," Steve said. "Andrea and I will keep the story going. Any time Marianne asks, we'll continue to be vague, but give her the impression that you have mentioned your new woman once or twice."

With that settled, we turned to other topics, and enjoyed a long and relaxed evening together. It was wonderful to have a few hours without feeling so much pain, without my mind filling with images of Marianne and Eddie together.

** ** ** **

When I got to the house on Sunday Marianne was waiting anxiously for me. She'd made some iced tea and sandwiches, and set it all up on our deck in the back yard. She was wearing a pair of green shorts she knew I liked, and a salmon tank top that showed off her figure beautifully. She'd done her hair and her make-up carefully—the effect was wonderful, and it was clear that she had put in a lot of effort. She looked absolutely beautiful.

I was in no hurry to get to our lists. I wanted to see how she was feeling, and was going to let her begin the conversation. I just said, "Hi Marianne, how are you? You look lovely today! Thanks for this nice spread."

"Thank you, Tom." She was obviously agitated. We had some iced tea, and she fidgeted nervously with her glass, played with her wedding ring, and just couldn't really sit still. I waited calmly, and when she couldn't stand the silence any more she burst out.

"Tom, are you really ... seeing someone? Are you having an affair, or did you just say that to upset me?"

"Do you think I shouldn't be seeing anyone, Marianne? Don't you think it's the least I've got coming, after you and Eddie all these months?"

She squirmed, and looked miserable. "Well, yes, Tom. I can't very well complain about anything you do at this point! I know what I did was awful .... It's just ... well, thinking about you and another woman is really upsetting me, and I want to know if it's true."

"It's true, Marianne," I lied calmly. "We've been together about six or seven times over the last couple of weeks. I'm not going to do this behind your back—you did that to me, and I know how much it hurt me when I found out. So I'm being open with you about it."

"But WHY?" she cried out, bursting into tears. I just looked at her in surprise.

"Okay," she said after a moment, still crying. "I know that was a stupid question. It's pretty obvious why, isn't it? I hurt you, and you wanted to hurt me back. But what's going to happen now? What's going to happen to us?"

The part of me that wanted Marianne to suffer a little was really enjoying this. "Actually, Marianne, I didn't do it to hurt you, and I'm not doing it now to hurt you. I've known Carrie through our work for several years, and we've always been friendly. The night we went out for a drink, after finishing up a project, we talked for a long time, and she made it clear she was interested in me. She's single, and under the circumstances there didn't seem to be any reason for me not to go to bed with her. We had a terrific time, and I've kept seeing her. Why shouldn't I?"

I had carefully chosen the name "Carrie" because there was no one I knew with that name. If Marianne tried tracking down my imaginary paramour, she wouldn't have much luck.

"But Tom ... what about our marriage?"

"I have two answers to that, Marianne. The first one is, you didn't worry about that a whole hell of a lot while you were climbing in and out of bed with Eddie, did you?" She just shook her head, looking miserable.

"And second, I haven't any idea. I couldn't possibly have sex with YOU at the moment. I can't even think of kissing you without seeing you and Eddie together, and when I imagine making love to you, it just gets worse. Given that I'm not having any sex with you, why not have sex with Carrie? I don't know where it will lead."

"Do you think you're falling in love with her, Tom?" Marianne spoke the question almost in a whisper.

"No, I don't think so. If I were cruel, Marianne, I could say that I was 'fond' of her, like you with Eddie, but I won't go that far. I like her. She's very attractive, and sex with her is terrific—she's wonderfully eager and enthusiastic. For now that's all it is. She knows about my situation, and I've made her absolutely no promises."

She only nodded, without looking up.

I looked at her. "We can keep talking about me and Carrie if you like, Marianne, but I get the feeling it will only upset you more. Do you think it would make more sense if we went on to our lists, the ones I suggested we make the other day?"

"I don't know what to do, Tom." Marianne looked thoroughly miserable. "I don't even want to think about you with someone else, but at the same time I'm just torn up inside! I keep seeing images of you ... with her, you know ... in bed. And it makes me crazy!"

"Believe me, Marianne, I know exactly what you're talking about. And there's one more thing. When you were screwing Eddie, you were getting out of his bed, coming home and climbing in bed with me. You must have had sex with me the same day you had sex with him, probably lots of times, and of course I never knew a thing. At least I'm not doing that to you. I'm not putting you in the position you put me in."

She nodded. "I know that, Tom. And I know ... I know that I'm the cause of all of this. I will try not to complain."

After a minute she rose and went into the house, returning with a sheet of paper. "Here's my list," she said. "I spent most of yesterday thinking about it, and read it over again this morning. I have to tell you, Tom—thinking about you and ... Carrie ... together made it a lot easier to imagine how you must be feeling about me and Eddie."

I smiled to myself, but said nothing. That had been the point, after all!

"Okay, Marianne. How about if I start by reading you my list, the one I wrote pretending to be you? I want you to tell me at the end how I did, and what I left out."

She agreed, and I read the list, in which the "I" was Marianne. There were five items on it.

--I am so angry at myself for being stupid and selfish. I thought I could do what I did without hurting you or jeopardizing our marriage. I was an idiot! Now I have caused you great pain, and I recognize that it is totally my fault.

--I am afraid for our marriage. I want you back, I want you to forgive me and come home to me—but I don't know what to do to make that happen. What if you decide to divorce me?

--I don't know how to make you love me again.

--I'm worried that you'll make some conditions for our marriage continuing that I won't be able to fulfill. (Like letting you have all the affairs you want.)

--I'm terrified about your affair with that woman. Will you fall in love with her? Does she please you, sexually or in other ways, more than I do? Between her attractiveness and your anger at me, will you leave me for her?

Marianne listened carefully as I read. When I was finished, she said, "that's an awfully good list, Tom. I am certainly feeling all those things—especially the first two, and the last one! I am angry at myself, and I am terrified. But there's one more I would put on there." She thought for a moment, and then said:

--I'm so furious that I can't tell you to stop seeing Carrie! Obviously I have no right to say that, given what I've done. But I want to stamp my foot and say, You can't see her any more!

I smiled at her, trying to look sympathetic rather than triumphant. "Believe me, I understand that feeling, Marianne. But you're right—right now you can't just tell me to stop. I have to figure out, in my own time, what's right for me."

"Tom," she cried, genuinely frightened, "please don't give up on me! I mean, on us—don't give up on our marriage!"

I went over to her chair and took her hand, holding it gently. "I'm not doing that, sweetheart," I said. "All these painful conversations, all these lists—all this is about trying to work it out. If I had wanted just to walk away, I would have done that three weeks ago."

She pulled my hand to her face and stroked it along her cheek. "Thank you for saying that, Tom! I so much needed to hear it. And I see your point—we have to keep having these awful conversations, don't we?"

I nodded, and after a minute said, "do you want to read me your list, Marianne?"

Her list was actually disappointing. It had only a few items, and I didn't think that she really had managed to feel all that I was going through. Like me, she wrote the list in my voice, so that this time the "I" was me.

--I am very angry that you broke our marital vows and had sex with Eddie.

--I don't know how I am ever going to be able to trust you now.

--I am worried that maybe he was a better lover than I am.

--I am angry that you were unavailable to me on our anniversary, because Eddie had given you the "honeymoons".

--I am upset that you lied to me, that you kept me in the dark about your affair for so many months.

--I don't know how to get over being angry with you.

When she was finished, she looked over at me. When I didn't speak, she asked, "How did I do, Tom?"

I sighed. "Well, it's a start. That certainly was the short version, not the elaborate one."

She looked a little annoyed. "What do you mean?"

"Well," I replied, "you've mentioned a few of the main points, but I don't think you have really walked in my moccasins yet, Marianne. Just for the heck of it, I made my own list of how I'm feeling. How about if I share it with you? The things you've mentioned are all there, so there's some duplication—but so are some other ones that are really important to me."

She nodded, and I went on to read her the list I had made.

--I am angry that you put yourself first. You chose to do something for your own pleasure and satisfaction, even though you knew it put our happy marriage, and my happiness, greatly at risk. If we still had toddlers, you would never have left one of our children alone in the bathtub just so you could finish watching your favorite TV show—you would have put their safety ahead of your pleasure. Yet with this affair you did just the opposite.

--I feel furious that my trust in your faithfulness has been completely betrayed. Part of what made our love-making so precious is that we shared it only with one another, and you broke that agreement behind my back.

--I am humiliated that you played me for a fool. You kept an incredibly important secret from me for months. When I questioned you about it, you lied to my face. You didn't confess the truth, or stop your affair, until I had absolute proof.

--I am angry that you have destroyed our sex life, along with the rest of our marital happiness. Right now the thought of sex with you makes me physically ill, because it is unavoidably linked to my thoughts of you and Eddie together. You have deprived me of the joy of our sex life together, without ever consulting me.

--My ego has been badly hurt. Eddie is younger than I am, and obviously full of energy and enthusiasm for sex. Is he a better lover than I am? Is his cock bigger, is his tongue more talented, does he have more stamina? In short, does he satisfy you in ways that I don't? When we were faithful to one another, I never had these worries—now I have them all the time.

--I am jealous of Eddie. Jealous of all the sexual pleasure you gave him, that was supposed to be reserved only for me. But even more jealous of the intimate time you spent together, the relaxed nights in his apartment, the fondness and closeness that obviously developed over the months you were together. I'm incredibly jealous and angry that you shared your most intimate, completely open side with him.

--I hate it that you took pleasure at my expense. In bed with Eddie, part of your excitement was knowing you were cheating on me. In bed with me, part of your excitement was the secret that you were also screwing Eddie. That undoubtedly made sex hotter for you, but only at the price of my pain.

--I am angry with you for breaking something I don't know how to fix: our marriage. I want it back the way it was, and I know it can never be that way again. Even if we stay together, how can I ever have the wonderful complete trust in you that I used to have? That trust is destroyed, and I don't know how to get it back.

--I'm afraid of my own anger and sense of grievance, afraid that it will destroy our relationship. I don't know how, even if we get back together, we can get to a point where I won't be constantly angry at you, and throwing your affair in your face all the time. What will happen when you finally say, "that's enough, stop hassling me about me and Eddie, it's time to get over it and forget it", and I still can't forget it? For a while you're going to be loving and apologetic—but what happens when you want to get back to normal, and I still can't do it? What will happen when you want to make love with me, and I still can't bear to touch you?

When I finished reading my list to Marianne, there was silence. I was glad I had written it out, and taken the time to formulate my thoughts carefully. I'm sure there were other things I could have mentioned, but the list communicated a lot of what I was feeling.

"Jesus, Tom," Marianne finally said, with a tremor in her voice. "I thought I was a sensitive person, and I thought I'd been thinking hard about this—but there are things there that never entered my mind."

She looked at me. "This has been just awful for you, hasn't it?"

I simply replied, "Yes it has."

And after a minute I continued, "and you are a sensitive person, Marianne. Sensitive, caring, and usually very observant. But somehow, with this affair, it seems you put all that stuff on hold."

She nodded her agreement. "Yes, I did—because I knew subconsciously that if I paid attention to your feelings, it would get in the way of my own selfish plans. So I guess I just turned off my sensitivity." She grimaced in disgust. "Jesus, what an idiot!"

After another minute or two of silence, I rose and wordlessly took her hand. I helped her to her feet, and we strolled hand-in-hand off the deck and around our green back yard, enjoying the shade of the walnut trees towards the back of the property. We didn't speak for a little while, just enjoyed the breeze and the noise of the birds.

I liked holding Marianne's hand. It reassured me that at least I could have this degree of physical closeness to her without my rage and hurt boiling up inside me. Obviously, this was a long way from making love! But it seemed like a good first step.

After awhile we returned to the deck, had some more iced tea, and spent a few minutes talking about other things. I had missed a couple of our weekly Monday night phone calls to the kids, so Marianne filled me in on how they were doing. She had told them I'd been away on business trips, so they had no reason to know I had moved out. I appreciated her having handled it that way.

Of course, the problem would come at the end of August when they returned home. If I were still living in an apartment, Marianne and I would have to talk seriously about how to explain the situation to them. But we still had a few weeks before having to face that.

Then I said, "Marianne, it's been a nice afternoon, but I should go." I considered adding that I had a date planned with Carrie, but it seemed cruel so I restrained myself.

But it didn't matter—she immediately asked, "are you seeing ... Carrie tonight?" I nodded, and saw tears come back into her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Marianne," was all I said. I wasn't going to promise I would stop seeing my imaginary lover.

"Tom, can we ... talk again soon?" "Of course," I answered. "How about Tuesday, the day after tomorrow? Why don't you come back to the apartment for dinner?"

"Okay," she sniffled. "I think I need to talk to you about Carrie. I've been trying not to think about it, but my imagination is making my life miserable. Maybe if you actually tell me ... about her, and about your ... time together, I'll be a little less unhappy and frightened."

"That's fine with me, Marianne." We agreed that this time we'd share making the dinner: Marianne would bring a salad and dessert, and I'd do the rest.

"Tom, would you leave me your list? I think I should probably read it over, and think about it some more." I was pleased by her request, and naturally agreed.

I kissed her on the cheek as I was leaving, and she gave me a sad, brave smile. I didn't know quite how to feel about it, but it was clear that at that moment Marianne was more miserable than I was. I couldn't help thinking that this was progress.

**********

By Tuesday I had started to be more hopeful about my marriage. For a variety of reasons, I felt less devastated than before. I had taken action, that was one good thing. Second, Marianne had had to confront much more directly all the pain she had caused me, and she seemed to be facing up to it. And finally, the imaginary Carrie was making Marianne miserable!

---

[Ramesh_Rocky]

part12



It certainly hadn't been a well thought-out plan on my part, just an idea that seemed worth trying. But now instead of there being a triangle of Tom/Marianne/Eddie inside both our heads, there was a Tom/Marianne/Carrie triangle (at least for Marianne), and Eddie just seemed less and less important, even to me.

I could even begin to think that—not yet, but at some time in the future—I could make love to Marianne without my rage about Eddie totally ruining it for me. My guess was that Marianne's fears about Carrie would focus on sex, and that she'd be so worried about my affair that anything sexual having to do with Eddie would be far from her mind.

As I straightened the apartment and checked on the dinner I was cooking, I found myself looking forward to sharing with Marianne my sexual exploits with the imaginary Carrie—she had made it clear she wanted to know about them. The advantage of a fictitious affair is that it can go just the way you want it to go! I intended to make my sex with Carrie sound as hot as possible.

When Marianne arrived she once again looked terrific. My wife was always beautiful, but when she set out to look her best she was totally stunning. She had on low heels that added to her height, and a pastel blue skirt that swirled around her when she walked. Her sleeveless blouse was white and a little bit see-through, so that I got the impression of a lacy bra beneath it. Without even thinking about it I took her in my arms as I let her into the apartment, and gave her a big kiss.

I think it surprised both of us! She looked at me and said, "wow, Tom, that was nice! I think I'd like another one, but let me put down this food first!" She had brought a big salad in a wooden bowl, and some ice cream for dessert.

She followed me into the kitchen as I put the ice cream in the freezer, and without hesitation said, "OK, what about that other kiss now?"

Looking at her seriously, I embraced her, drawing her to me slowly, and brought our faces together. This kiss was a long one—gentle at first, then gradually more passionate, as we held each other close. It probably lasted two minutes or more—somewhere in that time we had begun swapping tongues—and we both were short of breath when we broke apart. I had an erection that she surely must have felt pressing against her.

For me it had really been a test—could I kiss and hold Marianne without my mind reeling from thoughts of her kissing and embracing Eddie? And to my relief, I found that it was all right. I didn't forget about him, but the pleasure of Marianne being in my arms made my other thoughts unimportant.

Marianne smiled radiantly at me, still in my arms and holding me a foot or so away from her. "Tom, you've made me happier than I've been in weeks, since ... since this whole thing started. Being back in your arms like that is all I want!"

I grinned back at her. "Well you could probably tell that I was enjoying it too! How about some dinner, and we can think about some more of that later on?" This too was totally unexpected. I had no notion that we'd do anything more than talk tonight, and now it appeared the evening might go in a very different direction.

She tossed the salad while I brought out the dinner I'd cooked—chicken sauteed with artichoke hearts, and wild rice. Again she was impressed with my cooking, and I was pleased about that. Over the years of our marriage I had more and more left the cooking to Marianne, though I had been a pretty good cook in college. I guess that both of us forgot about my abilities—it was nice to be reminded.

After dinner we sat on the couch, and at once Marianne asked me about Carrie.

"Tom, it seems crazy, but I think I want you to tell me about your relationship with Carrie—how it started, and what's going on now. I know that you needed to hear all about my affair with Eddie, even though it was obvious how painful it was for you to listen to it."

"I think I'm feeling what you must have felt—that it's better to know the truth, even if it's awful, then to be at the mercy of my imagination."

"OK, honey," I said. "I'll tell you about it. Unless you don't want me to, or unless you stop me, I'll give it to you with all the details. As you say, then you'll know the whole situation."

She looked very worried, even though our kisses and the friendly dinner that had followed must have reassured her somewhat.

"Carrie works for a company that does a lot of business with mine. I've known her casually for two or three years, because we are in on a number of business meetings with other people. Once or twice a group of us has gone out for a drink after work and we've both been there, but always with 6-8 other people. We'd never spent time alone until about three weeks ago."

"Carrie is 27. She doesn't look much like you. She's only about 5' 2", and very curvy. Not heavy, but pretty voluptuous, with wide hips and really nice breasts."

Marianne grimaced a little, but didn't tell me to stop. I went on.

"She's got light brown hair, and dark eyes. What makes her particularly attractive is that she's lively and funny—sort of perky, except that I hate that word. She laughs a lot, and even in business meetings I've noticed she never seems to take things all that seriously—she doesn't think engineering or building construction are the most important things in the world."

"Two nights after I ... confronted you about Eddie, I had a business meeting with Carrie and some other people that went nearly until 6pm. Four or five of us went out for a drink, but after a little while everyone but Carrie and me had to leave. We were having a nice time, so I asked if she wanted to have dinner with me."

"She knows I'm married, so she asked right away, 'what about your wife? Aren't you going home to her?' And I told her the truth: that I'd caught you having an affair, and I'd moved out of the house."

"I was completely honest. I said that I still loved you, but I was unbelievably angry and hurt, and I had no idea about whether my marriage would ever be the same, or even whether there would be a marriage. I said, 'I guess in the shape I'm in, I'm the last person you'd ever want to have dinner with.' "

"But she told me, 'on the contrary, Tom, I've always liked you. You think the way I do, you're not so serious and solemn about the work we do. You have a sense of fun, and that appeals to me. I would love to have dinner with you!' "

"We had dinner at a seafood place on Thomaston Ave., and it was very pleasant. Carrie is easy to be with, and we had a good time chatting, not talking about anything serious. I learned a little about her background. She grew up in Miami, and at one time was an expert water-skier. She even did those fancy tricks—like skiing backwards, or holding onto the rope with just one foot—and she taught water-skiing for a while. She's lived in Cleveland ever since she finished college."

When the check came I paid it and offered to drop her at home, and she said, 'Where are you staying since you moved out, Tom?' I told her I had a room at the Holiday Inn. She just looked directly at me and said, 'I hear the rooms there are very nice. May I come and take look at yours?' "

"I was pretty surprised. I said, 'Carrie, are you sure about this? Given my situation?' And she just said, 'Tom, for a long time you have been on my "Damn, too bad he's married" list. At the moment you're not on that list, at least not all the way. I'm a big girl, and this is exactly what I want to do.' "

"I was incredibly flattered, and I told her so. We drove over to the hotel, went up to my room, and I made us a couple of drinks. We just sat on the sofa for a bit, talking some more. She asked me right out if I'd ever been with another woman since I got married, and I told her no. I was feeling a bit nervous! But she just smiled, and said she had a feeling we were going to be very good together."

"I put my arm around her and pulled her gently to me for a kiss, which she was more than ready for. We just necked for a long time, maybe half an hour. Eventually I began touching her breasts, which are large and firm. We both were very excited. She was breathing hard just from our kissing, and she groaned with pleasure when I first touched her breasts."

"She pulled away from me for a minute and said, 'can I tell you something, Tom? I love oral, both giving and receiving; and I really love having my breasts touched.' It was a big turn-on for me that she was being so open and direct with me."

"I picked her right up without a word, carried her over to the bed, took off her top and her bra, and began caressing her breasts."

I stopped myself to look over at Marianne, who was hunched up tensely in the far corner of the couch. She looked like a cornered animal. "Are you sure you want me to go on with this, Marianne? I could give you the short version."

"No, go ahead, Tom," she answered quietly. "I know that you had to listen to me and Eddie together. I don't see why I should be spared. And I need to know—having to imagine it myself is even worse."

I resumed my story. "Carrie really does adore having her breasts touched. I stroked them, at first avoiding her nipples but coming closer and closer; then I lightly brushed over them with my palms. She had her eyes closed, and was moaning quietly. She liked having the nipples pinched, but only gently, so I did that for a while. Then I kept my hand on one breast and lightly licked and kissed the other. It was very exciting for me too—being with a new woman after so long, and her being so responsive. And her breasts are just very beautiful."

"After a while I slid down lower and took off her skirt, then her panties, which were very wet. Since she said she loved oral, I kept my hands on her breasts while sliding my tongue right up her thighs into her pussy. I worked on her nice and slow—sometimes concentrating on her breasts while I very lightly licked her lips, then sometimes focusing on her clitoris with my tongue while lightly stroking across her nipples. I went back and forth, back and forth, until her hips were jerking back and forth at me and her moans were pretty continuous."

"I could tell she was getting close, so I moved back up to her breasts, latched on to one with my mouth, and used both hands down below. With one hand I stroked her clitoris, and with the other I slid two fingers inside her and moved them in and out. About a minute of that treatment was all she could take—she gasped, then cried out and had a wonderful orgasm, shaking up and down. I just took my fingers out of her, slid up next to her, and held her in my arms while she quivered, and then rocked her while she relaxed, sighing, her eyes closed the whole time."

"I felt great. I had been very nervous about being with another woman, unsure of whether I could please her. But I had obviously made Carrie feel very good—so no matter what else happened that night, I wouldn't feel like a failure."

"After a couple of minutes she looked up at me and said, 'Jesus, Tom. If I had known you could do that to me, I would have jumped you right on the table at the restaurant!' I just smiled and said, 'you are such an exciting and beautiful woman, Carrie. I loved touching you and pleasing you that way.' "

"She said, 'I hope you're going to love me touching and pleasing you too!' She pushed me down flat on my back, then got my clothes off, and immediately started caressing and stroking my cock. It took all of about 45 seconds before it was as hard as it's ever been. She teased me pretty much the way I had teased her—she used her hands or licked up and down it with her tongue until I was frantic, then backed off a little until I calmed down. She has a way of letting her mouth relax and open very wide, so that she could take my balls into her mouth very comfortably and I didn't feel afraid she'd bite down on them by accident. After a lot of teasing, she started giving me a serious blowjob, clearly aiming to finish me off."

"But I stopped her, and said, 'Carrie, I'd really like to finish inside you, if I could.' She smiled and climbed up on top of me. As she held my cock and slid down on it, she said, 'I'm on the pill, Tom—please go ahead and cum in me when you're ready.' Then she rode me, slowly and steadily, gradually getting faster in her up-and-down strokes, smiling into my eyes the whole time, until I was completely out of control. I was bucking my hips wildly, groaning at her, clutching her around the waist to keep her planted on me, and I exploded like crazy. I held her down on me as I came and came and came."

"I don't know if it was because this was someone new, Marianne, or whether it was because Carrie is very sexy and very enthusiastic, or because I hadn't had sex in more than a week—or all of those things. But it was one of the strongest, most complete orgasms I've ever had. I just lay there, exhausted, and finally said, 'Well, Carrie, you've just made an old man very very happy!' "

"She lay down next to me, her face shining with her own pleasure, and said, 'from the way I feel right now, you're just the right age for me!' Then she asked me if she could stay the night. I was surprised, but flattered and delighted. I said, 'of course, but if you stay in this bed I can't promise you an uninterrupted night of sleep.' And she just winked at me."

"We dozed for a while. To tell the truth I might have fallen asleep for the whole night, but after about an hour Carrie woke up. She began rubbing her breasts against me, drawing them back and forth across my chest. It felt really good, and I could tell it was getting her very aroused again. I started to stroke her back and sides with my hands, sometimes touching her breasts, while she continued to rub them on me. Then I pulled her up so her breasts were rubbing across my face, and I raised my hips and teased her pussy with my cock, rubbing it back and forth across her lips without letting it enter. I kept grabbing at her nipples with my lips as they went by, and sucking on them gently."

"We got more and more excited, teasing each other in this way. She started to moan, little 'oh, oh, oh!' sounds. I really wanted to be inside her, so I rolled her over beneath me and slid right into her in the missionary position. She had her eyes closed tight, and I just began stroking in and out steadily, easily."

As I narrated this scene, I was carefully watching Marianne. She looked more unhappy than ever, tightly pulled into herself in the corner of the sofa. I felt momentarily sorry for her—then I remembered the tape of her and Eddie in the motel that I had had to listen to, and my feelings hardened. Her pleasure and intimacy with him continued to fill me with rage! So if my made-up story gave Marianne a taste of the same kind of pain, I had no intention of stopping. I continued my narration.

"I gradually worked up to a faster and faster pace, nice and steadily. It was great that I had already come once earlier in the evening with Carrie, so I knew I could last for a while. By the time I was ready to let go, she had already had one really big, shuddering orgasm. Her second one came just as I was about to reach my peak, trying hard to keep my strokes long and smooth. But when her pussy clenched around me, I just went crazy for a few seconds, my hips jerking like mad, and the two of us convulsed pretty much at the same time. God, that felt good!"

"This time we both were exhausted. We just smiled at each other, lay together drowsily kissing for a few minutes, then fell soundly asleep."

"Thank God the next day was Saturday. We slept kind of late, and when I suggested we go downstairs for breakfast, Carrie wanted a shower first. Showering with her was amazingly erotic. We took our time washing one another. She did me first, doing my whole body but avoiding my penis until the end, though it was aching for her attention. She just soaped up my cock and balls, stroking them gently, smiling teasingly up at me while I groaned with how good it felt."

"I then teased her the same way, doing her arms, legs and torso but avoiding her breasts. At last I touched them, holding her from behind with my arms around her, and she just sighed and relaxed back into me. I slowly moved my soapy hands all over them, and she just totally melted. I could feel her breathing get faster and faster, and I wondered if we'd make it back to the bed or have sex right there in the shower. I began to reach ... "

I was interrupted by the sight of Marianne leaping to her feet, her face covered with tears. "Tom, stop! I just can't ... I thought I needed to hear this, but I ... I can't ... I don't know what ..."

She stopped, shuddered, and said, "I think I have to go now." And before I could say a word, she was out the door and headed downstairs.

I quickly went after her, not to stop her but to make sure she got to her car safely. From a short distance away I saw her run to her car, get in, put on her seat belt, and drive away.

Walking back upstairs to my apartment I was aware of a fascinating mixture of feelings. My own story had turned me on—the imaginary Carrie was one sexy lady! For the very first time since confronting Marianne about her cheating, more than three weeks earlier, I felt horny and interested in sex. It was nice to know that my libido had just been sleeping, not dead.

Next, I felt sympathy for Marianne. She had asked to hear about me and Carrie, and I'd certainly given her her money's worth! I'd made it as hot as possible, without getting totally unrealistic, and it was clearly driving my wife crazy. I loved Marianne enough to feel sorry that she was hurting.

But of course at the same time I could still hear her voice saying to Eddie, "I'm so hot for it, let me just get my clothes off and you inside me!" I could play the whole tape of that horrible episode in my mind. I heard her sighs and groans of pleasure, and the intimate joking with her lover of eight months. It was her with Eddie unfiltered and uncensored—unquestionably far worse for me to hear than my stories of me and Carrie had been for Marianne.

I realized, not for the first time, that the process of getting over my rage would not be a straight line. For the most part I was considerably less angry with Marianne, and less devastated, than I had been three weeks earlier. I had started taking the initiative on my own behalf, and I felt more in control. It seemed much more likely now than it had before that she and I could eventually reconcile.

But the rage still boiled up from time to time, every bit as hot and furious as the first time. Getting over it was not going to be a slow-and-steady process, much more a slow-and-unsteady process. I would have to think hard about my next steps.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

part13



On the day after Marianne ran out of my apartment, I called and left her a brief message at home, reminding her that I would be away for the next four days, through the weekend, at a conference in Atlanta. I was friendly, but I didn't offer any sympathy for the night before.

Actually, I was looking forward to getting away for a couple of days. While at some moments I felt more optimistic that my marriage had a future, my love for Marianne was mixed with a ton of anger. There probably wasn't any ten-minute period in my day when I didn't hear in my mind the sounds of her with Eddie in the motel, and my rage just boiled up in me each time. She had fucked him behind my back for eight months! She had lied to my face about it, when she had the chance to tell me the truth! The fact that I loved her and that I cared about our children mattered a lot—but did they outweigh what she had done to me?

At work I told Steve all about what was going on with Marianne and me, and asked him to share the news with Andrea. He smiled when I told him that my stories about Carrie were making Marianne so crazy, and I reminded him again to be sure not to let Marianne know that Carrie was my fictional invention.

I expected the conference to be pretty routine, but it turned out to be anything but. Most of my time was spent in paper sessions, where engineers give presentations on the latest in load-bearing measurement technology or advances in thermal window design. After each presentation there is time for questions from the audience, and occasionally the questions get quite contentious.

At the Friday afternoon session, a young and clearly inexperienced engineer gave a somewhat shaky paper, clearly his first talk in public. An older man in the audience started in with a series of aggressive, almost nasty questions. He challenged not only some of the speaker's conclusions but, by implication, his fitness to be an engineer.

This really pissed me off—it was a more experienced man picking on someone more vulnerable than he was. Fortunately, the paper concerned issues I knew a lot about, so I rose to ask my own question. I carefully formulated it so that it would be a friendly one, and would give the speaker a chance to regain his composure and sound more sure of himself. It also shut his attacker down, and he never got to ask any more questions. I was glad to see the young speaker make it to the end of the question session feeling better about himself.

The dinner that evening was a buffet, and after I went through the line I didn't see anyone I knew to sit with. I joined a group at a partially filled table, a group that included a striking young blonde woman I had noticed at the afternoon session. Her nametag said that her name was Kristin, and that she was from Norway.

Dinner conversation was mostly relaxed shop-talk, as it tends to be at conferences. Kristin seemed bright but shy—she mostly listened, only occasionally contributing her own thoughts. But as the group was breaking up, she surprised me by putting her hand on my arm and asking if I would stay a minute.

When we were alone, she said, "I noticed what you did in the session this afternoon. That was a very generous and kind act, to give the speaker a friendly question and let him recover his composure." She spoke excellent English, but with a little bit of an accent that I found charming.

"Thank you, Kristin," I replied. "I thought the guy asking all the hard questions was being a jerk, and I hate to see a younger engineer put on the spot so unfairly. It made me a little angry."

"I have seen a lot of that in our field," she said. "But it's much rarer when someone steps in, especially as discreetly and gently as you did. I'm not even sure he knew he was being rescued!"

We chatted for another couple of minutes, and I asked her if she felt like getting out of the hotel and taking a walk around Atlanta for a bit, and maybe getting a beer. She looked pointedly at my left hand, which still had my wedding ring, and I just laughed.

"Yes, married!" I said cheerfully. "Look, I didn't mean to make a pass at you—I just thought a walk would be pleasant, and I'd be delighted if you would join me." In fact I was very attracted to Kristin, but I hadn't planned to do anything about it. She was slim and lovely, with high Nordic cheekbones and a fabulous complexion. She wore her blonde hair short around her head, and her figure was very youthful, almost boyish, with slim hips and small breasts.

She smiled back at me, and said, "in that case I'd love to! But I'm not very impressed with American beers. Maybe we can find a place that serves some good Scandinavian ones."

It was a terrific evening. We walked around in the warm evening for a couple of hours, then settled at a place that specialized in beers from around the world, and we each tried a couple of unfamiliar ones. I learned that she had just finished her graduate degree in engineering at the University of Washington, and was looking for a job somewhere on the West Coast. Before that she had lived her entire life in Norway—she owed her English largely to a very good college system there.

Somewhere during the second beer for each of us, the conversation turned more serious. I found myself telling her about my marriage, and Marianne's cheating. Just the short version—I spared her what I'd heard on the tape, just told Kristin that I had taped them making love in a motel. She grimaced, and said only, "that must have been awful. I am so sorry."

It may be that my honesty inspired her, but after a few minutes she told me about her one and only serious love affair, with Ben, a fellow graduate student at Washington, that had ended very badly. He had courted her gallantly and patiently for months, with flowers and candy, etc., until she had been willing to go to bed with him. (She had had only had one lover before him, a brief romance during college.) But once they started having sex, he turned out to be controlling and violent. He liked it rough, and it excited him whenever she refused or hesitated.

After two months of increasingly frightening sexual encounters, and a beating that nearly sent her to the emergency room, she tried to break up with him. Ben told her he'd kill her if she ever left him. Terrified, she dropped out of college and flew home to Norway, abandoning her work in mid-semester. She didn't return to the university until 10 months later, after making sure that he had graduated and taken a job in the Midwest.

The whole experience had clearly been horrifying for Kristin. As she told me the story her voice became quieter and more hesitant, and she looked down at the table, not meeting my eyes. At the end she said, looking back up into my face, "I haven't ... been with anyone since then—that was two years ago."

The story appalled me, and I was full of sympathy for Kristin, who was still obviously suffering from the effects of what he had done to her. I gently took her hand, and said, "that's a terrible story, Kristin. It was very brave of you to have gone back to college and finished your degree. That must have been very difficult."

She smiled, and said, "it was awful at first! Even though I had made very sure that he was in Nebraska somewhere, for the first two months I looked for him everywhere. I was sure he would jump out from behind some tree and stab me! I was afraid of the dark, afraid to go anywhere alone. I had two roommates, and they were amazingly kind and patient with me. After a few months, it was much better."

"But you ... didn't start dating again," I said gently.

"No ... For a long time I didn't want even to be near a man. Then, after that feeling eased a bit, I guess I just didn't meet anyone I was interested in. And I'll admit that it just felt safer to concentrate on my work, and not take the risk of getting involved again."

I was able to cheer Kristin up a little by turning to lighter topics—we talked about the conference, and laughed together about some of the less successful presentations (the worst ones are almost always comically boring). By the time we strolled back to the hotel, around 11pm, she seemed to be feeling much better.

When we were still about a block from the front door she took my arm and pulled me gently to a stop, saying, "would you mind if we sat on a bench out here for a moment, before we go back in?"

I naturally agreed, and we sat quietly for a minute, me wondering what was on her mind.

She looked gravely into my face for a moment. She was just beautiful! "Tom, you are a very attractive man. What you did this afternoon, rescuing that poor fellow after his paper, showed me your kindness. And our conversation tonight made me even more sure that you are a very special person. Not just handsome, and funny and intelligent, but gentle, and sensitive to other people's feelings."

I started to thank her, but she raised her hand to stop me, and went on. "It's been a very long time since I've been with a man I was attracted to, AND a man I felt safe with. I know that you're married, but I also know that you're hurting too. I would like to spend the night with you."

My jaw dropped—I was utterly shocked. But before she got the wrong idea, that I wasn't interested, I quickly said, "Kristin, I'm honored! And flattered. You are about the most lovely woman I have ever met, and I would absolutely love to be with you tonight."

She smiled at me, and said, "good!" Then she hugged my arm, and we both laughed.

We agreed that we'd meet in a half hour in my room, since I had splurged for a room with a king-size bed. I made a discreet visit to a pharmacy for some condoms—an item I never dreamed I'd have any need for—and waited for her upstairs in my room.

When I answered her knock, she came in shyly, holding a plastic bag that must have contained her nightclothes, and asked if she could change in the bathroom. After a few minutes she came out in a robe, looking even more shy. I had turned off all but a single light, undressed to my boxers, and was waiting for her in the bed, with a couple of beers on the night-table. (There hadn't been time to do anything about champagne!)

Kristin came straight over to the bed, but I could tell she was very nervous. As I smiled at her she took off the robe, revealing a pink nightie that was pretty but not very revealing. She said, "I'm really not very experienced, except for those awful things that happened with Ben. I hope I won't disappoint you."

I said, "Kristin, I am already enjoying this evening with you so much. You are absolutely gorgeous, and a wonderful person. Even if all we do is snuggle together and fall quietly asleep, it will have been a great night for me."

Then I added, "but I am very excited—so I hope we'll do a little more than that!" She laughed, and climbed right in next to me, nestling close beside me. We just lay quietly for a minute or two, and then she turned her face towards mine and I kissed her.

That night with Kristin was one of the most memorable nights of my life. Even though we had just met, we had already shared some rather intimate stories—we felt close to one another, and safe with each other. I can't say that I didn't think of Marianne that night, because I did, many times. But the thoughts didn't bother me. Being with Kristin was tender and joyful. It was intensely exciting, but it never got fierce—I was determined that I would do nothing to frighten her, even by accident. And my patience was more than rewarded; as the night progressed she grew more relaxed, and she was eager and responsive.

We kissed for a long time, just enjoying the closeness. I did not go further until Kristin's hands began to explore, stroking my chest and my back. Then I began to slide my own hands up and down her arms, around the back of her neck, and finally onto her nightie, over her small breasts. She murmured into my mouth as I touched them. I was very gentle, and after a few moments I felt her nipples harden against my touch. "May I take the nightie off you?" I asked her quietly, and she nodded.

I reached down and carefully slid the nightie up over her head, then turned and quickly shed my boxers. I was about to pull the covers back up over both of us, but she stopped me. "No, I want to see you."

I smiled, and lay back next to her on my back. She leaned over me, examining my chest with her eyes and her hands, and I just let her take the lead. She stroked all over me: up and down my arms, feeling their muscles, then across my belly and down to my thighs. At first she avoided my cock, just stroking and touching my flesh and looking me over as though she'd never seen a man's body before.

I enjoyed it immensely, especially because I could look at her at the same time. Her breasts were small and firm, like those of a teenager, with beautiful pink nipples about the size of a quarter. After a minute I started to run my hands over them, and she smiled and arched her back, pressing them into my hands.

We continued to stroke one another gently, almost lazily. It wasn't hotly sexual yet, more like a sensual massage—there were so many parts of our bodies to enjoy beyond the sexual ones. I found to my delight that her underarms were not shaven, and stroked and licked her beautiful blonde armpits, which made her giggle. Her pubic hair matched, being blonde and sparse, allowing the pink lips of her pussy to show through.

We touched one another, looked at one another, and kissed luxuriously from time to time. I was very erect, and she was certainly aroused, but neither of us felt in a hurry. Partly I think we were both being careful—both of us had painful memories we had to skirt around, though they were very different—but also we were just enjoying the pleasure of going slowly. We each felt safe, and we were each trying to make sure that the other felt safe as well. It was wonderful!

It must have been at least thirty minutes after she joined me in bed when I finally slid my hand between her thighs, and felt her warm pussy for the first time. I made repeated gentle stroking motions up her legs, starting from midthigh and sliding up to her lips, which I rubbed briefly before starting over on her thighs. She laid her head on my shoulder and whispered into my ear, "I was hoping you'd do that!"

When she was very wet, and her hips rolled towards me each time I stroked her, I turned myself around so that I could reach between her legs with my mouth. My hips and cock were within reach of her hands, but nowhere near her face. I didn't want to make her feel I expected to take me in her mouth, and she didn't. As I licked her, poked gently inside her with my tongue, and used a finger on her clitoris, she caressed my balls with one hand and stroked my penis with the other. I adored her taste and smell. It was lighter, not so tangy as Marianne's. It seemed somehow appropriate to a younger woman.

As before, we let this pleasure build slowly, taking our time. When she got close to an orgasm I eased back a little, letting her arousal level off, then built her up again. The third time she murmured, "don't stop this time, Tom! make me ... let me cum!" So I kept my stroking and licking steady and rhythmic, enjoying the twists and jerks of her hips as she forced my mouth harder onto her. I rode her steadily into and through her orgasm. She didn't scream, but gasped loudly, then said, "oh! oh! oh!" several times, and finally sighed deeply and relaxed into the bed.

As her orgasm approached she had let go of my cock, which was fine with me—I didn't want to waste my first orgasm in her hands! I came back up to the top of the bed and held her in my arms, and she just sighed happily, smiling broadly but with her eyes still closed. She said, "later on I'll teach you how to say 'fabelaktig'—it's the Norwegian word for 'fabulous'!"

Then after another minute she roused herself a little, saying, "Tom, please make love to me now." I could see a bit of anxiety return to her face, so I said, "only if you want to, Kristin."

"I want to—I want you inside me. But ..."

She hesitated, and, guessing what was in her mind, I said, "what position would feel the most comfortable to you?"

She smiled at me gratefully. "Thank you for understanding, Tom! Ben used to ... well ... let's not talk about that. But could I be on top of you?"

"Of course," I smiled back at her. I reached for a condom on the nightstand, and she sweetly rolled it onto me. She crouched over me, facing me with her pussy above my cock, and stroked it over her lips several times, making me groan with pleasure.

Then she very slowly and carefully began to lower herself onto me. I did everything I could not to thrust up into her, giving her all the time she needed. I could see that she was fighting some bad memories, so I was utterly patient as she lowered herself, stopped, adjusted her hips, then went on. It was probably two full minutes before I was entirely inside her, and she relaxed completely, sitting down on me with a sigh and a big smile.

At about the same time we spoke: I started to say, "that feels incredible!", just as she said, "oh that's marvelous, Tom." Then we both laughed!

When she began to move on me it was a natural continuation of our love-making so far. She went slowly, easily, sometimes moving up and down on me, sometimes resting on me and moving her hips so my pubic bone pressed against her clitoris. It was all wonderful! I was in no hurry, and I avoided thrusting up at her. Instead I took pleasure in holding and stroking her breasts, lightly pinching her beautiful nipples. She kept her hands on my shoulders and her arms straight, using them for leverage.

We moved together for a long time, then I saw her face start to change. She got a look of serious concentration, and moved up and down on me more purposefully. She bit her lip and arched her back, groaning. I could tell she was getting close, and I tentatively began thrusting just a little, meeting her as she came down on me. About a minute after that I could tell I was about to lose control, and I whispered "Kristin?"

She just said, "yes, Tom, right now!" We continued to thrust into one another, staying in rhythm. Just as I was sure I'd lose control and start jerking my hips, she came, falling forward on me and groaning. I felt her pussy spasm and I totally lost it, bucking up into her several times and cumming so hard I thought I'd shoot my sperm right through the condom and up into her. God it felt good!

When it was over we just lay there, holding each other lightly, feeling one another's breathing gradually subside. Thoughts of Marianne had flitted in and out of my mind during our lovemaking—how her breasts felt different from Kristin's, or what her face looked like when she rode me as Kristin was doing—but they hadn't bothered me. Now, as Kristin and I lay in each other's arms, I remembered Marianne and Eddie, but the pain seemed distant and vague, like a bad toothache after the Novocaine had begun to take effect. It would be wrong to say I had forgotten about her cheating, or that it didn't matter. More accurate to say that I'd found a respite from the pain of it—a wonderful respite with a beautiful and loving young woman.

I shifted slightly to see Kristin's face, slightly worried about how her own memories of Ben might be in her mind. She kept her eyes closed, but had a happy, sleepy smile on her face. She looked like a little girl, ready for sleep after a long tiring and fun day at the amusement park. Without another word, I kissed her on the forehead, and reached to turn off the bedside lamp. We drifted off to sleep in one another's arms.

I awoke in a way I recommend to all of you to experience just once before you die. It must have been about 8am, because the sun was streaming in through the gauzy curtains and the room was full of light. I was on my side, and as I opened my eyes I saw Kristin on her knees by the side of the bed, naked and totally lovely, smiling at me as she took the head of my cock gently into her mouth. I was only partially erect, but that changed quickly!

[Ramesh_Rocky]

pert14


She teased me deliciously with her lips, using her hands to hold and gently stroke my balls and the base of my shaft. At times she dipped down and took about 4 inches of me into her mouth, then slid back and caressed just the head with her tongue. After five minutes she had me incredibly aroused—I was straining towards her mouth, groaning, wordlessly begging for release.

Without warning she let me go, stood up, smiled broadly at me and said, "good morning, Tom. How about a shower?" Then without another word she strolled into the bathroom and shut the door. In a moment I heard the water splashing in the shower stall.

I just laughed, feeling the exquisite pleasure and frustration of having been left so close to a terrific orgasm. I jumped out of bed, stretched, and wasted no time following her into the bathroom. When I climbed into the shower behind her she laughed happily at me, and embraced me tightly.

We soaped one another, enjoying the feeling not only of cock and pussy but of toes, armpits, ears, necks—everything! The washing started slow, but after a few minutes we were both very eager to get out of the shower and back into the bedroom. We raced out, ignoring our wet hair, hurriedly drying each other and throwing the towels aside. She got to the condoms first, and in no time she had rolled one onto me.

"Tom," she said with a smile, "how shall we do it this time? I want you to choose." I actually loved rear-entry, but I was afraid to put her in any position where she might feel vulnerable, or bring up unwelcome memories of Ben.

"Good old-fashioned missionary would be great for me," I replied. "I just love looking at you!" She arranged herself comfortably on her back, with a pillow under her head, and reached out to take me in her arms. "I am really looking forward to this," she said with a smile.

We were both too excited to be as leisurely as we had been the night before. Almost as soon as I was all the way inside her I felt the need to move. I tried to take a few deep breaths, longing to savor the feeling of my cock within her, then began thrusting slowly in and out. At first I stayed up on my arms, holding my chest above her and enjoying her beautiful smiling face as we coupled.

Then, within a few minutes, the feelings in my cock got so intense I had to increase the pace, and she put her hands on my back and pulled me down tightly to her. With my face against her shoulder I moved more rapidly inside her, feeling her hips roll up to meet each stroke. She began to groan lightly each time our bodies pushed together, and I got more and more aroused.

I began to whimper as my pleasure overcame me, and my rapid strokes grew more forceful. I was vaguely aware that I didn't want to be too rough, so I tried to hold back a little even as my orgasm roared through me. It felt like a tidal wave in my bloodstream, beginning at my cock and exploding in all directions through my body. I heard a loud animal groan, and wondered if it had been me. A moment later, I was drained of strength, and I collapsed onto Kristin, trying with my arms to keep my full weight off her.

I lazily kissed her ear and whispered sweet words into it, making her giggle. Then I realized that she probably hadn't come, and I raised up to look at her, the question in my eyes.

"It was wonderful, Tom," she said with a broad smile. "No, I didn't finish, but I loved it. You were so excited! It was thrilling. I don't always come from intercourse—but I feel SO good. Just rest with me." And she gently pulled me down on top of her again, where we lay comfortably together.

It was a half hour before we roused ourselves, and laughed as we realized we needed to shower again! This time we managed it without any sexy horseplay, and both of us dressed for the day.

I started to talk to Kristin about the day. "Maybe we shouldn't have breakfast together, Kristin, just for the sake of discretion. But how about we go somewhere nice in Atlanta for dinner tonight—somewhere with good beer?"

She took my hand, smiling a bit sadly at me, and led me over to the bed, where we both sat down. "Tom, let me say something. Last night was ... last night was so much more than I could have imagined. I hoped we could be ... good for each other, you know? Healing. Give each other a bit of comfort, and reassurance."

"And we did, of course. But it was so much more than that for me. Exciting, and sexy, and fun and relaxed. It was the most wonderful night I've ever spent with a man!"

I broke in, kissing her lightly, and told her that it had been just as wonderful for me. But she stopped me and went on.

"I don't think we should see each other again tonight. First, because nothing could possibly top last night! And I'd hate to feel that our second night together was a disappointment. But second, because it wouldn't be hard at all for me to start falling in love with you, and I don't want to take that chance."

Startled, I just looked at her. "Kristin, NOTHING that ever happened with you could disappoint me. We could sit side by side tonight and read the Yellow Pages and I'd have a good time!" She laughed.

"But I understand your point about maybe getting too attached. You're headed back to the West Coast, and me to Cleveland, where I'm hoping I will still be married after ... everything settles down. You are the most amazing, most lovely and special young woman I've ever met. The thought of not having more time together makes me sad—but I respect what you're saying."

She stood up, and I stood up too, and hugged her. "Promise me if you change your mind you'll come find me, OK?" I asked. She just smiled, and shook her head. "I'll see you in the sessions, Tom. And I'll smile at you across the room, and we'll both know what the smile means. All right?"

I nodded, and walked her to the door. After another gentle kiss and hug, and another smile from both of us, she went out into the hallway.

Saturday was a long, dull day for me. I did see Kristin in an afternoon session, and we did share a nice smile at a distance of 60 feet, but the rest of the papers didn't hold much interest.

I had dinner all by myself in a steakhouse in downtown Atlanta, thinking about Kristin, about Marianne, and about where my life was going. Then I headed back to the hotel and turned in, sitting up in bed with a mystery novel for a while before going to sleep.

I was astonished to hear a light knock on the door at 11:45, just as I was thinking of turning the light out. I peered through the eyehole to see Kristin, wearing a hotel terrycloth robe.

When I opened the door, a delighted smile on my face, she came right into my arms, and we hugged as I closed the door behind her. "I guess I ... spoke a bit too soon this morning," she said. "I really couldn't sleep tonight ... would it be all right if we just snuggled and went to sleep together?"

"What a wonderful surprise you are!" I replied. "Absolutely. This is the nicest thing that could have happened to me tonight!"

We were quickly naked together and curled up in the darkness, her nestled in front of me spoon-fashion. Kristin fell asleep within minutes, but I remained awake awhile, glorying in her wonderful smell and the feel of her slim body in my arms. Then I slept too.

********** My first conscious thought on awakening was that my arms were empty. Kristin must have gotten up early and gone back to her room. I sighed to myself, but as I prepared to throw back the covers I heard a slight noise, and the bathroom door swung quietly open.

For some reason I kept my eyes nearly shut, feigning sleep, while watching to see what Kristin would do. If she wanted to leave without waking me I would pretend to be asleep, so that she didn't feel obliged to give me an explanation.

Still naked, she looked at me, seemingly concluded I was asleep, then padded back to bed and snuggled in behind me, so that this time she was the bottom spoon, her chest and thighs pressed against my back.

What happened next filled me with joy. Very lightly and slowly, she began to move against me, stroking my arms and shoulders, gently moving her breasts against my back and her thighs against the back of mine. She reached her hands around me and let them glide across my chest, all the while caressing me with her own body. I felt her nipples harden, and after a few minutes she began to kiss the side of my neck, at the same time she slid one hand down and took my cock in her hand.

I endured this loving assault with utter pleasure, pretending that I was gradually awakening from her caresses. When I began to turn around to face her she gently stopped me, murmuring "shh", and rolled me back away from her.

Without knowing it Kristin was fulfilling one of my favorite—not quite "fantasies", but "preferences" in love-making. I am almost always ready and eager to make love with Marianne—or at least I was in the pre-affair days! So I was normally the one to take the initiative, and while Marianne usually seemed happy to make love, I never felt completely sure that she was as interested as I was. On the relatively rare occasions when she took the lead, it gave me pleasure to know that sex was something she really wanted, rather than it being something she was doing mainly to please me.

In bed with Kristin that Sunday morning, I was thrilled that she was choosing to pleasure and arouse me. She could have gone back to her room, or just returned to bed and dozed, but sex was HER choice. I reveled in the feeling of her breasts against my back, her breath in my ear, and her hands caressing my cock. She stroked me up and down until I was rock-hard, and began to murmur teasingly in my ear.

"Wow, this is a big one, Tom! What are you going to do with it? Are you ready to fuck me with this beautiful thing? Are you ready for me? are you?"

I suddenly rolled over and grabbed her into my arms, growling "what do you think?" as she giggled against me.

Then she said, more seriously, "Tom, doing it ... from behind used to be one of my favorite positions, before ... well, before Ben. Could we do that this time, but ... a little gently?"

That sounded like a great idea to me! I grabbed a condom, and arranged her comfortably with a couple of pillows under her middle, so that she didn't have to hold all her weight up on all fours. I got behind her, but instead of moving to enter her right away I caressed her beautiful pussy with my tongue, again enjoying her wonderful smell and taste. I licked all around her upper thighs, the edge where her thighs met her abdomen, her vaginal lips, and her clitoris. I didn't try to make her come, just gave her teasing pleasure as she had done to me.

Then I kneeled behind her and, using my hand to guide me, entered her very slowly and carefully. When I was all the way inside, I just rested there, sighing with the pleasure of her heat and tightness, stroking her back with my hands. I loved this position, and I adored being inside Kristin. Did being inside Marianne from behind feel this good? I couldn't remember, and at that moment I didn't give a damn.

Going slowly and gently was fine with me—I wanted the sex to last a long time. So we took our time, changing our pace and our rhythm from time to time, pausing while I held her breasts and tickled her nipples. It must have been 20 minutes before we built up to a climax. When I could tell she was very close, I reached beneath her and stroked her clitoris, all the while thrusting in and out, going faster but not too hard. Her orgasm made her shudder and clench her vagina around me, and I came into her only moments later, gasping with the pleasure of it.

Each time we made love, it had been a delight. I was filled with joy and gratitude to my generous, loving, and beautiful partner. I climbed off her and took her in my arms, and we lay together resting sweetly for a long time.

**********

At the airport that afternoon I was two hours early, with plenty of time to think. My farewell to Kristin had been bittersweet. We had exchanged addresses and many warm embraces, knowing that we would not see one another any time soon, if ever. Neither she nor I had seen the other as a potential long-term partner, just a port in a storm. But the connection we had made was very real—not just sexual, but a wonderful warmth and mutual understanding. I felt very lucky to have spent a short time with her.

Of course, my tryst with Kristin also affected how I felt about Marianne at that moment. This brief affair fit into the pattern that I had begun 2-3 weeks earlier, of being active in figuring out what I needed and then doing it, rather than just suffering as a passive victim of my wife's betrayal. Though I hadn't been aiming to do it, I had found out that I was still an attractive man to a woman, and still very much capable of being a satisfying and exciting lover. It wasn't that I seriously doubted those things—yet the pain of Marianne's cheating certainly had poked serious holes in my confidence.

She had said that her affair had nothing to do with me or with my love-making. She had said that she loved me completely, and that our sex-life together was exciting and satisfying for her. Very nice to hear—and very difficult to believe, when the words come from your wife who has just confessed to eight months of fucking someone else!

But Kristin had met me, liked me, wanted to be with me, and had been very excited and satisfied sexually with me. I didn't have to question that—I knew it was true, and it felt wonderful. In a small way, my time with her had restored to me some of what the revelation of Marianne's cheating had stolen from me.

I used my cell phone to check in with Andrea and Steve back in Cleveland. Andrea answered my call, and told me that the two of them had had lunch with Marianne on Saturday. According to Andrea, my wife was in a pretty serious, depressed mood, though they'd had some success cheering her up.

"I think your 'affair' with Carrie is really eating at her, Tom," Andrea continued. "In a good way, actually. One aspect of it is simply that she's very jealous; and frightened that you'll fall in love with Carrie, or just that having a new lover will make it easier for you to leave her."

"But beyond that, her feelings about you and Carrie have helped her understand much better how incredibly hurt and betrayed you feel. She can see that you must be agonizing about her and Eddie together just as she does about you and Carrie. It's obvious that you must suffer the pain of doubting her love, just as your involvement with Carrie makes her worry about your love for her. And she can see that it was much worse for you, because you were utterly deceived."

"So I don't know what you're thinking, Tom, but I'd advise you to keep 'Carrie' in the picture a while longer. But that's just me, the amateur shrink!" she laughed. "How are you, anyway?"

"I'm actually pretty good," I replied. "I've had an unexpectedly good time at this Atlanta meeting, and things seem to be looking up a bit. What you've told me about Marianne is encouraging news as well. Thank you for continuing to be friends to both of us—and thank you as well for keeping my secret."

"You're welcome, Tom," Andrea replied. "It would make Steve and me very happy if you and Marianne were able to work things out. We both remember what a great marriage ... I'm sorry Tom, maybe I shouldn't finish that sentence."

"It's okay, Andrea. I know: 'what a great marriage we used to have'. I don't think we'll ever have that marriage again—I don't see how we possibly can, or at least not for years. But perhaps we'll be able to put enough of the pieces back together that staying married will seem to make sense."

"Oh Tom, now you're starting to sound unhappy. I'm sorry I said the wrong thing!"

"No, Andrea, it's not your fault. Every once in a while I maybe get a bit too optimistic. Then all it takes is a little serious thinking to realize how big a problem this will be to solve. I'm better off being realistic about it."

We ended our call, and after another minute I called Marianne at home.

"Hello, honey, it's me calling from Atlanta."

"Hi Tom!" Marianne seemed glad to hear from me. "How are you, and how was the meeting?"

"The meeting was not bad. I'm a little tired, but that's the usual. Listen: how would you feel about our getting together tomorrow night, at the house? I would like to be there so we could call the kids together, since I've missed the last two Monday night phone calls. And we could talk some more. I know that our talks don't seem to leave either of us feeling all that happy, but I think we need to keep having them."

"That would be fine, Tom. Would ... would it be all right if I made dinner for us?"

I thought about this. I had previously refused to have her cook for me, but I had made dinner for her twice at the apartment. "All right, that would be nice. How about if I come around 7?"

"Perfect. You know ..." She hesitated, then started again. "You know I really miss you, Tom." She went on in a quieter voice. "I really want you to come home."

I waited a moment, trying to breathe deeply. Her saying that brought my rage flooding back—I would be at home if you hadn't been fucking Eddie behind my back, dammit!

"I know that, Marianne," I finally said. "I would like to get to the point where my coming home feels like the right thing to do. But we're not there yet."

"OK, honey," she said meekly. Then: "I'm looking forward to seeing you tomorrow."

"Me too," I said. "Goodbye Marianne."

---

[Ramesh_Rocky]

part15


When I arrived at the house on Monday, I was not surprised to see that Marianne had gone all out. She greeted me warmly at the door, wearing an outfit she knew I liked. I could see that she'd set the table in the dining room, not the kitchen, and I saw candlesticks with fresh candles, as well as a bottle of wine we liked.

Gently but firmly I said, "Marianne, I'm not comfortable with what you have in mind. Sorry, but no candlelit dinner with wine tonight." I carried the wine and the candlesticks back into the kitchen.

She looked hurt, but said nothing. I continued, "actually, I brought a six-pack of Ringnes. It's a Norwegian beer I tried in Atlanta, and it's great. I hope you'll like it too." This was a little private joke, for me alone. Ringnes had been the beer Kristin introduced me to.

The kids had been on my mind a lot, especially because I hadn't spoken to them in weeks. I had taken the time to send them each a cheery postcard from Atlanta. Over the delicious dinner Marianne had made, I asked about their letters home, and Marianne filled me in on what they'd been doing at camp. Both were having a great time, and it was a safe bet they didn't spend much time worrying about what their parents were up to.

I said, "Marianne, we still have a few weeks, but obviously we'll have to figure out what we'll tell the children when they come home from camp if I'm not living here."

She looked stricken. "Tom, I really thought ... well, I certainly hoped you'd be back before then."

"Marianne," I said firmly, "you cheated on me for EIGHT MONTHS. Do you really expect me just to get over that within a few weeks?"

She was silent, and I said, "we have until August 30—that's about three weeks. If I'm still in the apartment, obviously we need to explain the situation to them somehow. If I'm back home but sleeping in the guest-room, perhaps we can simply say that one of us is having trouble sleeping. I don't know, Dad has a cough at night that's keeping Mom awake, something like that."

Marianne continued to look very unhappy. Finally she said, "well, I know we have the same goal in mind, which is not to upset the kids if we can avoid it."

I nodded, and said, "yes, I'm confident that we can decide together on the best thing when the time comes."

After dinner we each picked up an extension and we called the kids, who were glad to talk to us but not unduly excited. Clearly they were happy and busy at camp, had lots of friends, didn't mind talking to us for a few minutes, but then were eager to get back to their activities. Given how stormy the situation was for me and Marianne, that was a relief.

When we got off the phone I came back to the table and helped Marianne clear the dishes, then we cleaned up together. I made sure to thank her for the nice dinner, and then I said, "Marianne, can I ask you something about ... well, how did you arrange things for the kids when you spent the night at Eddie's?"

She could tell from my changing tone of voice that the serious questions were coming, so she wasn't startled. She readily replied, "I realized that I should have explained that earlier. Once or twice they had sleepovers at friends' houses, and once there was that college trip to the wilderness camp, when they were both gone for 3 days. All the other times they spent with my parents, who you know love to have them come visit. I always had my cell phone with me, but there was never any problem. It wasn't that often, Tom, maybe six times altogether. "

I just nodded. Then I said, very quietly—"Marianne, how could you let him call you 'Anni'?"

She just shook her head. "I don't know the answer to that, Tom. I know that it is terrible, and inexcusable—but so is everything that I did." She wasn't looking at me. "Eddie once asked me about ... you and me ... in bed. What we did, and so forth. I wouldn't tell him anything, wouldn't talk about it, so he let it go. Then another time he asked me what you called me, and without thinking I said, 'sometimes he calls me Anni'. Eddie didn't start using the name with me right away, but maybe about a week later he began calling me that."

I was cold with anger. "And you let him?"

"I told him at first to stop it, but he didn't. And I ... there's no excuse, Tom, I ... just gave up fighting him about it. It didn't seem worth it. Maybe it was all part of my deluded thinking, that you'd never know about the affair, about any of it, so what difference did it make?"

I had to press my lips together for a moment. This was really one of the worst parts of the betrayal. My pet name for her, coming out of that bastard's mouth!

I waited, then went on, thinking that my next question might catch her by surprise. "Marianne, are you still seeing Eddie?"

"No!" she immediately responded, and went on with some heat, "Tom, I already told you that!" Then she sat back a little, with a sigh. "Sorry—you're probably wondering why you should believe anything I tell you. But no, Tom. All I can say is the truth. I'm done with Eddie, and I'm done with cheating on you. Forever."

I pressed on. "Have you had any contact with him, since I played you that tape of the two of you together?"

"As I told you before, I called him the next day, and told him in no uncertain terms that our affair was finished. Since then, yes, I've had contact with him once. I threw away that cheap cell phone, so he couldn't reach me that way. Towards the end of last week he called me here at home, hoping we could get together. I told him once again, plain and simple, to stop calling me. If he calls any more I'm just going to hang up on him."

What I knew but Marianne didn't—at least I'd never revealed it to her—is that there were listening devices still recording throughout the house. I intended to check them the next day.

She looked up at me. "Tom, may I tell you something right away, before you ask another question? I started seeing a therapist. I went once last week, and my next appointment is tomorrow. I'm probably going to see her twice a week for awhile."

"Do you want to tell me about it?" I asked.

"Yes, I do, if that's all right. I've been re-reading the list you left for me, the one in which you listed the things you're feeling about my ... adultery. And it began to dawn on me that ..." She stopped for a moment, then went on. "... that a woman who acts in a way that gives so much pain to a man she says she adores ... well, that something must be wrong with a person like that."

She looked at me with tears in her eyes. "I mean, what kind of a woman, married to a man as wonderful and loving as you—what kind of selfish monster do I have to be to have done what I did?"

"I told you before that the affair had nothing to do with you, with our relationship. But I see that that is totally false—look at what I did! I let my ... let Eddie call me by your pet name for me. I had hours of sex with him the day before our wedding anniversary! I didn't break it off with him, even when I knew you suspected me."

"So I realized that there must be ... things about myself that I just don't understand, and that I need help to figure out. This is ... really hard for me to say. I realized that, whether or not we stay together, and ... even if you leave me ..." She was crying now.

"Even if you leave me, I have to understand what I've done to you, and to myself. Because either way, I'm going to have to live for the rest of my life with what I've done."

She put her head in her hands and cried quietly. She seemed to have finished what she wanted to say, so after a minute I spoke.

"Marianne, that sounds like a good decision. I hope it's helpful, and I hope you'll tell me about what you learn, whenever you're ready to."

She nodded, still crying, but didn't look up at me. I said quietly, "do you want me to go?"

She shook her head. "No, I have more I'd like to say to you. Just give me a minute." After a bit she looked up, smiled through her tears, and got up. "I'm just going to wash my face—I'll be right back."

I thought about what Marianne had just told me. It clicked with feelings I had had, namely that what she had done to me, or to our marriage, just seemed inexplicable. I thought we had a strong and loving marriage, and she said she thought so too. But how then could she have done what she did? It just made no sense to me—and now it had started to make no sense to Marianne either. So she was seeking help. That had to be a good thing. I didn't know if what she learned in therapy would help me to forgive her. But at least it might get easier to understand what she had done.

When Marianne returned she seemed once again in control. "Tom, I need to speak to you about you and Carrie. I'm sorry I ran out of your apartment last week, but listening to your story about ... you and her just got too overwhelming for me."

"What I'm feeling about it, first, is frightened. I'm terrified in any case that you will decide to leave me, to divorce me. God knows nobody would blame you! And the fact that you have this ... loving, sexy, eager, beautiful younger woman in your life ... well, having her might make it easier for you to decide to walk out permanently."

"But I also understand that there's nothing I can do about that. Even after just one therapy session, I recognize that the only one who gets to decide if you leave me is you."

"In a way—and maybe it's a sick, twisted way—your affair with Carrie might even be good for me. The thought of you being intimate with someone else just tears me up, Tom. In my mind I can see you touching, caressing, making love to her just as you used to do to me, or whispering love words in her ear the way you did in mine, and I can hardly even stand up. I feel as though someone has slugged me in the stomach."

"But whenever I have those feelings I know—truly KNOW—what my cheating has put you through. My nose gets rubbed in the pain I have caused you. Some of it, anyway—I'm being spared the agony of your cheating on me behind my back." She smiled ruefully at me. "Maybe I'm still getting off too easy, huh?"

"But I'm going through all the wondering about her and me. Is she more beautiful, a better lover, does she satisfy you more than I do? Last week when you told me about your first night with her, it sounded so exciting that I was completely in despair. How could I ever compete with that, at 39, after 16 years of marriage?"

"And then I saw that you had to deal with all those feelings too. Plus the fact that you did nothing to deserve them. At least I have the consolation of knowing that I deserve what you're doing!"

She paused for a moment. "I don't know if I'm making any sense tonight, Tom. There's such an enormous gap between us, and I'm the one that put it there. A couple of weeks ago you said that we had to keep talking, even though our conversations left us both pretty unhappy. I didn't understand that then, but I do now. I hope that ... I hope that you'll hang in there, and keep talking to me."

"I don't know how to make up for what I've done. Actually, I see that I simply can't make up for it—not completely. Probably not even close. But I am going to do whatever I can to try. I told you this two weeks ago, Tom: I will do ANYTHING if it will help make things better. And I mean that."

Marianne sat back in her chair—she looked exhausted. And worried. Well, she certainly had reason to be! My own mood swings when I was with her, from sympathetic to full of ice-cold rage, bewildered me, and I'm sure she could sense them by just watching my face. One minute I wanted to put a comforting arm around her, the next I imagined slapping her around, with her cowering in terror under my blows.

The people who say that dealing with a cheating wife is simple—"just throw her ass out!"—are full of shit. They have probably never been there, and they don't know what it is like from the inside. Sixteen years of love, happiness and trust, two kids we both adore—those are not nothing. Pure rage can feel great, the adrenalin rush of it, and I certainly knew that. But maybe two months later you're living in a small furnished apartment, staring at the walls, lonely and depressed and wondering why you're so far from the people who matter most to you.

On the other hand—and there's always another hand—you can't just walk back into the nest your wife has shit in. You can clean it, and you can air it out, and buy new rugs and new furniture, but it will be a long long time until the smell is gone. And there's no sense trying to rush it, or minimize how painful it is.

I looked up from my thoughts and realized Marianne was watching me. "What is it, Tom? Can you tell me what you're thinking?"

I sighed. "A couple of things, Marianne. I'm very glad you've started therapy, and I'm glad for what you just said about me and Carrie. I don't know what will happen to us, but I'm certain that I would have had to leave if I felt you weren't trying to understand what I'm going through."

"On the other hand, some of what you said about me and Carrie is also true. Having her in my life reminds me that I'm still attractive, that I could leave you and not have to be alone for the rest of my days. Being with her sexually eases a little of the pain of thinking about you and Eddie together."

"And the connection I feel with her does inevitably affect the connection I feel with you." (I was thinking of Kristin at that moment, though I didn't say that to Marianne.) "It would be a lie to say it didn't make any difference—just as I pressed you to admit that your connection with Eddie affected your relationship with me."

"I relax with Carrie. We don't just go to bed together; we also talk, and cook dinner, and snuggle. A big part of my need for closeness to another person is being satisfied there. So of course that means that my need for you is less."

"Right now I think that's a good thing, a necessary thing—because I'm still so hurt and angry at you. There's no way you could fill that need for me, no way I could let you. But let's face it, Marianne—you had that emotional closeness with Eddie, for MONTHS, and it meant you weren't as close with me. A piece of your heart wasn't mine, it was his."

Not surprisingly, Marianne was crying again, softly. "I never loved him, Tom. I swear to you. It was never like that."

"You may think I'm an even worse monster when I say this—but I would come home from ... seeing him, and I would be loving you and looking forward to seeing you, to making love with you."

"I didn't feel, 'wow, this is fun, I'm fooling my husband, look what I'm getting away with'. It was more like 'wow, that felt good'—like it was a massage or something, a good workout at the gym!—'and now I can hardly wait to be back with my loving husband'. Is that utterly sick? I don't know."

"In some way I don't understand, I separated the affair into a completely different category. I stepped into it out of my life, then stepped out of it back into my life. Maybe that makes me sound more like a typical man, who supposedly can separate sex from love. Maybe it means I'm totally screwed-up, Tom, I don't know." She was speaking quickly, almost desperately.

"But whatever it means about me, what I'm telling you is the truth."

We sat in silence for a few minutes.

"Do you love me, Tom?" Marianne asked the question quietly, without looking at me.

"Yes I do, Marianne. That's what makes this tough. If I didn't love you, and if not for the kids, it would have been easy to walk away. Very painful, but easy."

"But I do love you, and I want our happy marriage back. The one that was full of love and trust, where we shared everything."

"Of course, the trouble is that every time I think that, I realize that I can NEVER have that marriage back—the best I can possibly hope for is some half-way version of that. And then I'm filled with anger at you, for taking that happy marriage away from me."

"I know that, Tom," she said. "And even I don't see how you can ever forgive me. I can't imagine how I could ever forgive you, if it were the other way around."

We were silent for another few minutes. Then I said, "I'm going to go, Marianne. Thank you for dinner. I'll talk to you soon."

I reached over to squeeze her hand, and she gave me a sad, brave smile.

**********

The next day at lunch time I went to the house and checked the recorders that were still hidden in the attic. I brought the recordings back to my apartment and went through them that evening, wondering if I would find anything awful. I recalled what the arms-control negotiators used to say, "Trust but Verify". It made me laugh—I didn't trust at all, so I really had to verify!

To my relief, the recordings were all routine. I heard Marianne making phone calls related to her work, or talking to her parents or Andrea on the phone. There were a couple of calls to her therapist, Dr. Brenner, about scheduling appointments. There didn't seem to have been any visitors to the house.

On the bedroom recorder I found the phone call from Eddie that Marianne had mentioned to me. It was brief, and just as she had described it.

"Hello? ... Eddie—why are you calling? ... No, listen to me. We're finished, and I don't want to talk to you again. ... No, stop! I'm sorry you called me, and I have no intention of seeing you or talking to you again. Is that clear? ... No! If you call me again, I'm simply going to hang up on you. Goodbye, Eddie!"

I heard the phone put down firmly, and then after a moment Marianne's voice talking to herself. "Damn!" she said. "Damn, damn, damn." And then after another moment, "what the HELL was I thinking?"

Two days later Marianne called to tell me there had been two more calls from Eddie. "I hung up on him, Tom, but I don't like him bothering me," she said. She sounded upset. I said I'd be over right after work.

When I got there, I said immediately, "Marianne, it's time for me to know a few things about Eddie. I thought that he was the least of our problems, but I was wrong."

"I'll tell you whatever you want to know, Tom," she said right away.

"Okay: what's his full name, where does he live, where does he work?"

"His name is Eddie Carlson. He has an apartment in the building on 14th and Haven—it's an six-story building, and his apartment is on the fourth floor. He works as the manager of a One-Hour Photo Shop called Collier's, in the mall downtown."

"How was he able to get away to meet you in the middle of the day so easily?" I asked her.

"He always has at least one other person in the store—an assistant manager or a clerk who can handle things."

"All right, Marianne. Please leave him a message tomorrow at home, during the day. Tell him you want him to stop calling the house, and you'll meet him the next day at 12 noon at Bisconte's. It's a bar at 9th and Stevenson."

She looked troubled. "Why do you want me to do this, Tom? I don't want to see him again, ever!"

"Trust me—after that we won't have any problem with Eddie. I'm going to be there too." And I explained what I had in mind.

Two days later, we were both at Bisconte's at 12. Marianne sat in a booth, while I was about 30 feet away, sitting at the bar. When Eddie came in he went straight to Marianne and tried to kiss her—but she rebuffed the kiss, and he sat down across from her in the booth. I got up and strolled over to them. As I approached I heard him say, "Anni, it's so terrific to see you again! I've been..." Then he looked up and saw me.

Marianne got up from the booth, and I smoothly slid into the seat where she had been, across from Eddie. "Eddie, this is my husband Tom. He has a few things to say to you." Without another word, Marianne went and sat at the bar

[Ramesh_Rocky]

part16



Eddie's face showed a mixture of annoyance and alarm. He looked young for 29, and not at all prepossessing. He was handsome, I suppose, in a brooding kind of way, but he was quite a bit smaller and slighter than I.

His hand had been stretched across the table towards Marianne, and I quickly grabbed his forearm with my right hand and held it tightly. He attempted to pull it back, but I steadily squeezed harder and harder, until he was in pain. "Just leave your hand there, Eddie. That's a good boy." I spoke calmly, keeping my face expressionless.

He didn't know whether to try defiance or deference, so he went for the first, though he couldn't quite bring it off. "So it's the 'loving husband', huh?" he sneered, though I could see fear in his eyes. "Come along to join the party?"

I didn't reply, just looked directly into his eyes without moving. He tried to stare back, but after a minute he couldn't face me and he moved his eyes nervously to look around the bar. I was still holding his arm, still administering a bit of pain. Then I spoke, always keeping my voice calm.

"Eddie, in the past Marianne wanted to spend time with you. That was her decision. But now she doesn't, and you haven't gotten the message. So now it's my business."

"You know what I do for a living, right, Eddie? I'm an engineer. In my work I have a lot of contact with fellows in the construction business. Gentlemen with names like Dino and Vinnie. Are you following me?"

"I had a conversation with a couple of these gentlemen. I asked them how they would handle the problem of a loverboy who was bothering one of their wives, and who wasn't getting the message that he wasn't wanted any more."

Eddie was listening now, not moving a muscle. Keeping my right hand on his arm, I reached into my pocket with my left hand and pulled out a 9-inch serrated knife, which I placed on the table between us.

"My friends agreed right away on how they'd handle the loverboy—they'd cut his cock and balls off, then stuff them in his mouth. Maybe sew up the mouth, too. The only thing they disagreed on was the kind of knife to use. But three out of four of them said that this serrated knife would do a nice job. Messy, but effective."

Eddie wasn't even pretending not to listen. He had gone quite pale, and there was a bit of sweat on his upper lip.

"My friends also told me that they'd be glad to help with my 'situation', if I decided any help was needed. I told them I'd let them know."

I waited another minute, still looking at Eddie, then I finished. "Eddie, you're done calling Marianne. You're done seeing Marianne, talking to Marianne, thinking about Marianne. You're done being within 100 yards of Marianne. If you and she are ever in the same place, you're going to be turning and walking rapidly in the opposite direction."

"You got that, right Eddie?" He nodded, not taking his eyes off me.

"I'd like to hear you say it, Eddie." Without hesitation he said, "Yeah. Yes. I got it."

I didn't speak again, just let go of his arm. Rubbing it with his other hand, he quickly got to his feet, not looking at me or the knife, and headed out of the bar. He passed Marianne where she sat without looking at her either.

I put the knife in my pocket and walked back over to Marianne. "Shall we get some lunch?" I asked. She looked at me and nodded, smiling. Her face wore a strange expression—some kind of mixture of embarrassment, relief, pleasure, and pride.

Lunch was relaxed and pleasant. I had one more bit of business to discuss, and I brought it up right away. "Marianne, we need to talk about Susan. And Jack."

"I was thinking about that, Tom, and I wanted to tell you as well. Susan and Jack left Cleveland together in the spring; I think they're living in Tennessee now. I wasn't really friends with her after that night ... they set me up to see Eddie again. I mean, I'm to blame for what I did, but ... let's just say I don't think she had my best interests at heart. In any case, she's gone—they're both gone."