I stared at my reflection in the mirror on Saturday night as I carefully put the final touches to my make-up and fastened my necklace and bracelet in place.
To my relief the hickeys Darren had given me were already beginning to fade. The overdose of concealer I had applied had done a good enough job, at least for the most obvious mark and the two dark patches above my collar bone were hidden by the high collar of the dress I had chosen for the evening’s event. My tummy still churned when I remembered what had happened only two days before; the genuinely unplanned but intensely pleasurable all-night fucking I had received at the hands of an intellectually pedestrian but drop-dead-gorgeous Personal Trainer.
The twenty-nine year old boy had delivered in his dirty, untidy bedroom a night of copulation that had opened my eyes even further to the extraordinary physical pleasures an exciting, adventurous sex life could bring a girl – even one of my advancing age.
Even better, with my wedding ring no longer on my finger – at my husband’s Pete’ insistence – I need not feel any guilt about having had only the second extra-marital lover in my life. I felt shame for having behaved like a slut in bed and fear of my infidelity being discovered by my friends but these were manageable.
I felt no guilt at all for having added my name to the list of married women carved into Darren’s bedpost.
The thrill and excitement had carried me through a dreary Friday at work, an evening in the gym followed by another lonely night alone at home and in bed. It also helped overcome the dull pain of finding my secret phone still devoid of messages from Tony, the man who had first seduced me, fucked me and started the affair that had led to my current horrible situation.
Had it not been for the obvious pleasure Darren had enjoyed in my company in and out of bed, I don’t know what this sudden and total rejection by both the men I loved might have made me do.
Learning that for a second time I had cheated on him by arranging secret dates with Tony, my husband had insisted that we separate. It might only be for a couple of weeks; it might be permanent. Pete had even insisted we gave back our wedding rings to make sure we both understood the magnitude of what was happening. Putting distance between us would, he said, give us both time and space to decide what we wanted and the opportunity to try other previously forbidden fruit.
What we had both expected was that I would spend the time living with Tony in his flat. After all, he had told me many times how much he loved me and had even asked me to leave my husband and marry him once his divorce from his estranged and unfaithful wife Julie had come through. By becoming his wife for two weeks I would know for certain which of the two men in my life I wanted to be with.
At the same time my husband would be deciding whether he wanted me back at all.
But now the opportunity had arisen for real, instead of welcoming me into his apartment, his life and his bed, Tony was behaving very strangely, making excuses to avoid seeing me and even standing me up on the one occasion he had agreed to meet. He wasn’t even answering his phone now or responding to messages.
In the face of all the evidence, I still stupidly held onto the belief that, once his daughter Hannah had gone back to University, he would call me, tell me he still loved me and welcome me into his apartment, his bed and his life.
The self-delusion was extraordinary.
In contrast, my husband Pete had stuck to his plan, moved into the Duty Consultant’s rooms at the hospital and hadn’t made any contact with me at all since leaving the house the previous Sunday. I had seen his car in the Consultants’ Car Park and I suspected he had spent at least some time on Thursday evening with Julie, my closest friend and Tony’s wife.
Otherwise I hadn’t set eyes on him and had no idea what he had been doing and now I would not see even this little of his life because on Friday afternoon he had flown to Geneva to take part in a week-long conference in his medical specialism. It was an event I had once attended with him; a week in which a great deal of hard work was done during the day and a large amount of bed-swapping took place afterwards.
If he wanted, my good looking, successful husband would have no problem finding someone to fill the place in his bed I that his unfaithful wife was now denied.
Unused to jealousy, the thought of my husband with another woman in any circumstances was intensely and increasingly painful. His absence from my life went far beyond his mere physical presence; we had been apart many times when one of other of us was away for work but there had always been the knowledge that we missed and wanted each other.
Being apart from him because he couldn’t put up with the humiliation of my repeated betrayals, couldn’t even stand being in the same house as his cheating wife and needed to decide whether he could now live with me at all was an agony all on its own and increasingly hard to bear.
Whatever I decided, the decision was out of my hands. For months I had enjoyed having both men in my life; now it looked like I might end up with neither. With another whole week of supposed freedom, there seemed nothing I could do but wait for one or both men to make their choice.
As if this wasn’t bad enough, Julie had called me on Friday asking if we could meet up.
Despite her having been my closest friend, I hadn’t returned her call. This was partly because I was angry that her husband Tony had seen her earlier in the week while avoiding seeing me, partly because she had apparently gone out to dinner with my husband on Thursday night and partly because I had ignored her pleas and done nothing to help her and Tony get back together again.
But mostly it was because the young man who had fucked me so comprehensively on Thursday was the same young man Julie’s yearlong affair had been with; the affair that had made her husband walk out on her. Julie and my names metaphorically appeared above each other on Darren’s bedpost; I wasn’t ready for the complications all this brought to our already-complicated relationship.
She had called me on Saturday morning too and left several increasingly urgent text and voice messages but I had ignored them all.
So, as I prepared myself for a desperately needed evening with the girls, far from being the wild, romantic fuck-fest I had expected, with one unexpected but spectacularly enjoyable exception, my first week of freedom had been spent almost entirely alone so having Claire’s party to look forward to was a godsend.
***
It was my friend’s fifty-third birthday and the girls in our social group were having dinner in a smart restaurant together to celebrate. Under previous circumstances we would have been a table of eight but with Julie still persona-non-grata there were only seven of us that Saturday night; the Magnificent seven as Claire christened us.
The first bottle of Prosecco had barely filled our glasses so a second and third had been promptly ordered. After my lonely week it felt wonderful to be in a noisy, friendly group again and I took maximum advantage of the opportunity to gossip, eat things I shouldn’t eat and drink much more than was good for me.
As usual, after a few rounds of the bottle the conversation turned obliquely to sex; with our husbands in general and about Julie and Tony in particular. There was much good natured complaining about our various spouses either demanding too much or providing too little in the bed department.
I kept quiet as much as possible without appearing prudish; there were too many booby traps in my sex life to let down my guard.
By the time the coffees and over-sweet liqueurs had arrived the two divorced girls amongst us had graduated onto the lack of eligible men in our town and from there to which of our husbands they found most attractive.
To my considerable surprise, Pete and Tony featured high up on both their lists. Tony in particular was deemed to need a great deal of personal attention to comfort him following Julie’s appalling behaviour; support both girls said they would be happy to provide. Julie herself was discussed with a mix of contempt, admiration and a good degree of envy.
My husband Pete was universally praised for being both good looking and a warm, caring man. There was much ribald speculation about what he must be like in bed – which I took care not to encourage – after which I was voted the luckiest girl at the table.
A toast was drunk to both of us. I had to blink back the tears; fortunately everyone misread the reasons behind my reddening eyes.
I was still one of the more sober members of the group by the time we bundled into taxis and headed into the city aiming to hit a club for a few hours’ dancing. Before my affair I would have avoided sweaty nightclubs like the plague, especially on ’Grab a Granny’ night as this particular evening had been named by the younger male clientele who laughed at groups of middle aged women like us.
We danced until after one o’clock. Interestingly, all of us were approached during the evening by men much younger than ourselves. After my one night stand with Darren and with no wedding ring on my finger – I had lied to my friends about having it made larger – I was in great danger of accepting but there was a limit even to my insanity.
Just before two o’clock I arrived home by taxi to a dark, empty house, alone, drunk and missing my husband very badly indeed.
My vibrator made another visit to my bed but its batteries gave up the ghost and I cried myself to sleep unsatisfied.
***
I rose late the next morning with a rare hangover. After downing a full pint of water and two cups of strong coffee I tried to make plans for another lonely day. Going to the gym with my head throbbing was unthinkable so I dressed in scruffy leggings and an old shirt and chose the go-to option of housework.
A couple of hours later everything had been washed, ironed, cleaned or tidied. I wasn’t in the mood to meet anyone so had yet more coffee and wondered what to do next.
Then it hit me; there could hardly be a better opportunity to work on my writing so, with a fresh mug of coffee in one hand and my mobile phone in the other, I went into the study to work out my frustrations through the characters in my stories as only an author can.
Remembering the events of the previous week, I placed a folded towel on the seat cushion beneath me in case of ‘arousal accidents’.
To my delight, the words seemed to simply pour from me and onto the screen and chapters began to form quickly in my mind. While I enjoyed writing the sex scenes, it was the whole surrounding story that actually physically turned me on; the seduction not just the fornication; the chase not just the kill.
I loved to explore the intricacies of relationships too; the deceptions and secrets, the traps and manipulations as if by giving my characters wicked motivations and loose morals I could make my own misjudgements and mistakes seem less unacceptable.
I had reached the most crucial part of a very intimate sex scene, my leggings and towel distinctly damp when I heard the doorbell ring. I sat back, puzzled; I wasn’t expecting visitors anytime, let alone on a Sunday afternoon. It rang again; whoever was outside the door was clearly not just going to disappear.
Both I and the central female character in my story were in an advanced state of arousal so this interruption could not have been more ill-timed. The effect on me had been so powerful that I was even contemplating paying my hidden vibrator a brief visit so it was with considerable reluctance that I abandoned the on screen fornication, padded barefoot into the hallway and opened the front door.
“Jules!” I exclaimed in surprise.
“Hello Penny!”
To my astonishment, there on the threshold stood the woman who had been my closest friend. Dressed in tight jeans, boots and a close-fitting red top over which she had draped a quilted jacket, her petite body and blonde hair looked very pretty and attractive indeed.
In my scruffy clothes I felt outclassed but it was the serious look on her face that grabbed my attention.
“Can I come in?” she asked quietly.
“Of course.”
My invitation was instinctive; I was not at all sure how I felt about the woman I had been so close to for so many years. As far as I knew, in consecutive nights this currently-unattached, highly sexed female had in some as yet undiscovered way been with both the men who were supposed to be in my life.
With my own jealousy-crazed eyes I had seen her leave Tony’s apartment late on Wednesday evening and I had strong grounds to suspect she had driven off with my husband in his Porsche the evening after.
My attitude was one of suspicion, wariness and a distinct coolness towards my former confidante but I tried to bluff it out, pretending all was normal.
From her body language and the hesitant way she spoke, I could tell Julie was having similar issues as we walked through to the kitchen. She shed her jacket and perched on a stool at the breakfast bar while I moved towards the kettle. On the surface it looked like hundreds of our encounters over the last twenty years but underneath we both knew it was nothing of the sort.
“Coffee?” I asked.
“I’d rather have a glass of something stronger,” she smiled. “I feel like I need it today.”
I took two wine glasses from the cupboard, opened the fridge door, filled them with cold Sauvignon Blanc and handed one to Julie who raised it towards me.
“Cheers?” she asked.
“Cheers!” I replied but there was little enthusiasm in either of our voices.
“How are the kids?” I asked.
“Fine. Hannah’s having a few issues but otherwise they’re both doing well. How are your three?”
“The boys are fine. Izzy’s had a few boyfriend problems but she’s happy again now.”
I wouldn’t have shared the nature of my daughter’s boyfriend problems even in the olden days. Some things have to remain between a mother and daughter.
“Is Pete okay?” she asked.
I knew Julie well; from the overly casual tone of her voice and the fact that I suspected she had been with him only days ago, I could tell she was testing the water before moving on to a more significant subject. I gave a bland, non-committal answer.
“He’s in Geneva. At the conference.”
There was a brief silence while both of us wondered how to proceed. Long sips of wine were taken. I wasn’t going to be the one to take the first step; after all, Julie had come to my house to see me, knowing that my husband was away. The silence went on a long time before Julie finally steeled herself and began the conversation that was to change my life.
“People like to make judgements,” she said quietly, apparently a-propos of nothing. “They think they don’t, but they do; all the time.”
I was sure my friend was right but didn’t see where she was going with this.
“Take me and Tony for example. People think he’s a poor, mistreated husband and I’m a cheating slut.”
I made to protest but she held up her hand to stop me.
“Don’t try and be nice, Penny. If my own children think I’m a slut then why shouldn’t you? Why shouldn’t everyone? I’ve made no attempt to hide it, have I?”
That was certainly true. At least she had been honest and open about her cheating which was a lot more than I had been.
“The thing is, no-one knows what goes on behind closed doors. No-one knows what another marriage is really like. You’re my closest friend and I care about you so, if you’ll let me, I think it’s really important that I tell you one or two things.”
“O-kay,” I said slowly and hesitatingly.
This sounded serious; more so when Julie emptied the bottle into our glasses and took another long sip.
“The truth is,” she took a deep breath. “The truth Penny, is that Tony has cheated on me throughout our marriage.”
I gasped.
“I know. It’s a shock isn’t it? You thought I was the ‘bad guy’ for going off with Darren, didn’t you?”
She was right and I wasn’t the only one to think this way. Her year-long but recently ended affair with her Personal Trainer had been the talk of our social group – the whole Sports Club in fact.
“Well, I’ve known about Tony’s ‘bits on the side’ for longer than we’ve known you and Pete. He’s always had a wandering eye and I know you’ve experienced his WHT for yourself.”
I raised an eyebrow. WHT had stood for Wandering Hand Trouble when I was at school. I hadn’t heard the phrase used since I had left University but I did know about Tony’s straying hands very well indeed as this narrative has amply demonstrated.
“Most of our friends know; he uses it as a kind of smokescreen,” she continued. “Because he seems to try it on clumsily with every woman, we all think he’s not serious; that it’s ‘just Tony’s way’.” She leaned closer. “But I can tell you Penny, he’s very serious indeed and if he ever thinks he can follow through and go further, he does.” She laughed hollowly. “It’s surprising how successful he’s been over the years.”
“Jules I had no idea,” I told her honestly, my heart sinking.
“I was a loyal wife and I love my family,” she told me. “For years I found it easier just to pretend it wasn’t happening and get on with life without thinking about it. Pathetic isn’t it?”
I wasn’t in a position to comment so I simply said I was sorry.
“I’m not after sympathy,” she smiled. “If I chose to be the poor little woman with the cheating husband; that was my affair.” she added.
“So what changed?” I asked, still bewildered.
“Oh, so many things,” Julie replied with a sigh. “Perhaps I’d just had enough. I suppose the final straw was when Chris and Helen split up.”
Chris and Helen had been friends of theirs; a pleasant if unremarkable couple I had met several times at Julie and Tony’s house. They had separated eighteen months ago and were now divorcing.
“You mean Tony…” I began, aghast.
Julie nodded.
“He’d been fucking Helen for six months on and off. He didn’t think I knew.”
“Was there a big bust-up?”
“Not really. Helen just left. Chris never found out who she’d been sleeping with but I knew it was time to leave.”
“Just like that?”
“I’d threatened to leave him many times; I actually did leave him twice but I hadn’t planned it properly. Each time he managed to convince me that he’d reformed, that there would be no more ‘other women’. You know how persuasive he can be.”
I did indeed know, but if Julie didn’t know about my own affair with her husband, I wasn’t going to tell her.
“This time I knew I had to do something big; burn my bridges so there could be no going back. I didn’t want everyone to think of me as a slut but I knew if I didn’t do something dramatic and public, he’d talk me back into our one-sided marriage again.”
“So you let Darren seduce you?” I stated rather than asked. Julie chuckled.
“Darren is a sweetheart but you’ve met him. He’s got a great body and he’s fantastic in bed but he’s no dangerous Casanova. If anything, I seduced him.”
Although this agreed completely with my own experience of Darren’s seductive powers, I still stared at my friend in amazement. To think that after as many years of marriage as mine, my closest friend had actually gone out to deliberately cheat on her husband.
“Only one other person in the world knows what I’m telling you now and I’m only telling you because of the position you and Pete are in. I care about you.”
This took me back with a jolt. What did Julie know about me and Pete? I couldn’t ask for more without giving things away so I just shut up and listened.
“Tony’s affairs tend to follow a pattern,” she continued. “First, he almost always goes for tall, leggy brunettes,” she said, giving me a meaningful look that worried me. “I suppose it’s because I’m short and blonde and he likes a change.”
So far I fitted into the pattern.
“He usually prefers married women. I reckon he thinks they have more to lose and so are more likely to keep secrets and let things stay physical.”
That too fitted well with his selection of me.
“So if his wandering hands open a chink in a married woman’s armour he moves in fast before she realises what’s going on. If he can get her into a seriously compromising position quickly she’s much more likely to let him go all the way. It’s a sort of sexual blitzkrieg. I’ve seen it happen, Penny. Tony doesn’t know but I’ve seen it.”
To my horror, this described his first successful assault on my fidelity perfectly. By failing to remove his hands from my buttocks that first afternoon I had shown him a point of weakness and he had capitalised on it mercilessly. Fondling had quickly led to kissing, the journey from kissing to groping and fingering had been swift too. Once his hands had secured their place inside my knickers he was home and dry; there was no way the encounter could have ended with anything but full on sex and in my case, copious insemination too.
As I recalled, my entire journey from faithful wife to post-orgasmic, freshly-inseminated slut had taken less than ten minutes.
Blitzkrieg indeed!
“Once he’s bedded her the first time,” Julie continued. “He puts the pressure on hard, making sure they keep doing it, giving her no time for regret or to change her mind. He seems to think that a woman could perhaps write-off one quick extra-marital fuck as a mistake – a big mistake maybe – but something that could be blamed on him, dismissed as bad judgement or even as an accident not to be repeated.
“But if he’s had her three times or more in the first week, especially if she’s had to lie to her husband to be with him then he’s got her deeply involved. It’s not him seducing her anymore, she’s deliberately cheating on her husband. That’s something much harder to overcome and gives him a hold over her, even if she doesn’t know it.”
The scales were falling from my eyes as the realisation washed over me. I had fallen for his technique easily and completely.
“Then the affair really begins. First they have a mad week where they see each other every day.” She laughed again. “He really does think I believe all that rubbish about late working and overnight trips, even when I can smell her on him.”
It was like listening to my own life story. I couldn’t speak.
“It settles down for a while, but then he gets possessive and starts to put the pressure on her again, needing to see her more often, maybe an overnight stay, perhaps go away for a weekend. He’s a very persuasive man,” she said again.
That was certainly true. A coldness was creeping over me; I fought to stop it showing.
“Then it starts to get complicated. They see each other so much he gets in too deep, falls in love and if she’s unlucky, drags her down with him.” Julie paused for a moment. “You know, I think he really does believe he’s in love with these women; it’s not all just cynical manipulation. He really does fall for them and they all seem to fall for him too.”
“Jules I…”
“Then of course with both her husband and her lover making demands, the woman’s marriage starts getting into trouble. She starts putting demands on him in return; emotional demands usually, expecting him to live up to all those sweet things he has said to her in bed. If he’s really unlucky she wants to leave her husband and live with him. That’s when he gets cold feet big-time, tries to get out of the whole affair and things can go badly wrong.”
She looked at me sadly. Did she know that this was exactly what he was doing to me right then? The cold chill grew stronger.
“I could name three marriages he’s broken over the years then simply dumped the wife straight afterwards. One of his victims took an overdose when she realised what she had lost. She’s okay now but I don’t want to see anything like that happen to my closest friend.”
Julie stopped for a moment, took another long drink of her wine and looked me straight in the eye as I suddenly realised the full implication of her last few words.
“You know about us,” I stated. It wasn’t a question.
Julie nodded.
“How long have you known,” I asked. There was no point even trying to hide the truth.
“Quite a while,” she replied.
“How did you find out?”
“Penny,” she said in exasperation. “We’ve known each other how long? Twenty years? Do you really think I couldn’t tell that my best friend and my husband were sleeping together? I’ve seen that body language too many times!”
“And you didn’t mind?”
“I was having my own extra-marital fun, remember?” she smiled. “Besides it looked like you were both just having fun too. I felt sorry for Pete but it wasn’t my place to tell him.”
“So why tell me all this now?” I asked, frowning.
“Because things have changed, I care for you both and I don’t want your marriage to be another casualty of my husband’s philandering. I just hope it’s not too late.”
She clearly knew something about our current separation but I couldn’t guess how.
“Have you told Tony that Pete’s moved out?” she asked, demonstrating a knowledge that worried me.
I nodded.
“I told him on Sunday when it all happened.”
“And is he making it hard for you to see him?”
Again I nodded. “He told me Hannah was home.”
Julie snorted.
“Hannah was home but she arrived on Tuesday, not Sunday,” she said quietly. “And she’s staying with me.”
“I thought she wasn’t…”
“Wasn’t talking to me?” she asked. I nodded again. “Now Darren’s gone we’re trying to heal the wounds.”
So Tony could have seen me; I could have moved in with him straight away. He just didn’t want me to. I had gone the way of his other conquests; someone to fuck when it suited him, a bit of fun and another married woman’s fidelity notched up on his bedpost. But when things had got too serious I had been dropped like a stone.
I felt exploited and humiliated.
“How did you know Pete had moved out?” I asked.
Julie looked embarrassed as she replied.
“He told me.”
“When? How?” I asked, shocked. That was supposed to be a secret.
Julie looked at me for a long time then took a deep breath.
“There’s no easy way of saying this Penny; Pete and I spent the night together.”
Oh my God! It had happened! Not only had my husband slept with another woman, that woman had been my oldest and closest friend. I felt sick! The fact that this almost exactly mirrored the way I had first cheated on him did not reduce my horror one bit, especially as I knew something of Julie’s unexpectedly voracious sexual appetites.
“It was a mistake, Penny,” she added quickly.
“When…when was it?” I mumbled.
“Last Thursday.”
I sat back and stared; it was the same night I had been fucked by Julie’s former boyfriend Darren, the Personal Trainer. When Darren told me he had seen her go off in a Porsche, it really had been my husband’s car.
“How did it happen?”
“We went for dinner. I told him I needed his help getting me and Tony back together again – you know, like I asked you?”
I did indeed remember. At the time I had not wanted any interference from his estranged wife to get in the way of our developing affair so had done nothing.
“I’m sorry. I should have helped,” I began. She dismissed the idea.
“I didn’t need your help, Penny, or Pete’s. I don’t want Tony back at all. I just wanted to get in the way of your affair before it went too far and you and Pete got hurt. I came to you first because I wasn’t sure if Pete knew about you and Tony and I didn’t want to make things worse. When it was clear that you weren’t going to be distracted by my plan, I had to try and get Pete involved instead. You were clearly in much deeper than I had realised.”
She took another sip of wine.
“I asked Pete for dinner so I could find out how things were between you two. We had a very nice meal in a very nice restaurant and had a long talk. The restaurant was crowded so we went for a walk afterwards to talk in private. Pete thought I wanted to talk about my own marriage not yours so I let him lead. He said he would try and help get us back together but that he needed to talk to you first. I knew you would say no so I tried to persuade him to talk to Tony on his own. That would have put a spanner in the works.”
I grunted my agreement; it certainly would. Julie continued.
“Suddenly it all became too much. What with losing Tony and then Darren I felt very alone and despite myself, I started to cry. Pete gave me a hug – a friendly hug at first but it lasted a long time. After a short while we found we were holding hands as we walked.”
I didn’t want to hear the details of how my husband and my best friend had slept together but for some reason couldn’t bring myself to interrupt. It was almost as if I deserved the pain; that it was in some way a punishment for the torment I had inflicted on my husband.
“When he took me home,” Julie continued. “I invited him in for coffee. I hadn’t intended anything to happen and I’m sure Pete hadn’t either. We talked as friends for a long time but then I got out the Christmas Brandy and… well, things got a bit out of hand.”
She saw me wince as I heard those terrible words.
“I’m sorry Penny, but you need to know the truth.”
My insides were churning; although in theory Pete had been as free and single that night as I had been, it was the first time since our marriage there had even been a suggestion of him having slept with another woman, let alone a close friend. I was surprised just how badly it hurt.
“Afterwards we talked for a long time,” she told me as I struggled to digest the extraordinary revelations. “That’s when Pete let slip that the two of you had separated. He didn’t say why but I knew straight away. It was then I realised how bad things had got and that your marriage really was about to break up.
“I couldn’t let that happen to my closest friends so I told him what no-one else in the world knew until then; about my broken marriage and Tony’s repeated adultery. I wanted you both to know what he was like. I wanted to stop your marriage going the way of the others.”
“What did Pete say?” I asked, my voice trembling as tears began to run down my cheeks.
“He said it was up to you to decide. He told me what had happened; about your freedom and his, and what had to happen if you were to stay married.”
“What else did he tell you?” I asked, praying that even during pillow talk Pete wouldn’t have let slip about our Hotwife – Cuckold arrangement.
“That you both had to agree freely. He said that spending time apart and being free to give in to temptation would help you both know how you really felt.” She laughed. “I suppose I was part of the temptation as far as Pete’s concerned. I hope he thinks I was worth it.”
“Did he say anything about me? How he felt about me?” I stammered.
“Only that he wanted things to be the way you had first intended them to be,” she said. “I didn’t understand what he meant but it sounded like he wanted you back, Penny.”
“Didn’t you ask him?”
She blushed.
“I’m afraid I didn’t get the chance; we found something else to do other than talk,” she told me sheepishly.
I felt physically sick again as vivid images filled my mind; of my wonderful, loving husband mounting my slight, petite friend’s pale skinny body, of his long slender erection penetrating as deep into her body as it had into mine for so many years; of his throbbing cock leaving in her unfamiliar vagina the same pale creamy fluid that my body had absorbed countless times.
Something had changed and changed forever. Whatever else came of this, my husband now knew how it felt to make love to another woman. He knew how it felt to have another vagina gripping his shaft, how it felt to see a different face and body beneath his as he thrust himself into her. He knew how it felt to cover the entrance to another woman’s womb with his semen.
And if all I had learned about Julie’s sexual preferences was to be believed, he might have learned a great deal more too.
What was even more important; for the first time in my life I knew how it felt to have shared my handsome husband with another woman. The pain was intense; it wasn’t a feeling I was ever going to forget!
“When we woke up together the next morning we both knew straight away it had been a mistake,” Julie continued. “Friendship and fucking are two different things; I enjoyed them both – you’re a lucky girl on both of those fronts, Penny Barker – but I know which is more important as far as you two are concerned.”
Julie leaned forwards and held my hand.
“I’m really sorry Penny, ” she repeated. “It will not happen again, I promise. Have I just destroyed our friendship? Please tell me you forgive me!”
“Yes! No! Um… I don’t know,” I stammered again.
There was a pause before Julie spoke again.
“To be honest, I thought he’d seduced you ten years ago. The two of you were certainly very close but then you seemed to distance yourself from him and I decided I was wrong.”
Oh God! That must have been the time of my first ‘near-miss’ with Tony. I had come very close to yielding and had only managed to remain faithful to Pete by directing all my sexual frustrations to my erotic writing.
“I was surprised,” Julie was continuing. “He doesn’t normally play so close to home. You’re the closest friend he’s ever succeeded with.”
I had heard enough; more than enough. The pain was too much. Suddenly I knew what I had to do.
“I’m sorry Jules, I have to go.”
***
Half an hour later I pulled my car to a screeching halt next to Tony’s outside his apartment block, jammed on the handbrake then pushed the steering wheel hard with both hands, trying to control my anger and work out what on earth I was doing there.
The light was on in the lounge window so I knew he was at home. Whether he was alone I couldn’t tell.
After all I had just heard I should have dropped the lying bastard out of my life instantly but something had made me go back to him one last time. Whether subconsciously I needed closure or whether I was spoiling for a showdown I couldn’t tell but I did know that I could not let our affair end in the humiliating, one-sided fashion which running away would have made inevitable.
Penny needed to finish her affair on top. I needed to do something positive; something that might restore at least a remnant of self-respect after the way in which I had been treated. If I didn’t, I would be no different from all his other poor conquests; Tony would have fucked me in every conceivable meaning of the word.
If I did nothing I, Penny Barker PhD, Senior Manager and Chief Scientist in a major Midlands Hospital would spend the rest of my life knowing that I had been used and had done nothing about it. That I had fallen like a simple minded slut for the oldest trick in the book, willingly becoming a man’s plaything, my body eagerly surrendered to my seducer whenever he wanted. My marriage and emotions had been treated with contempt; I would forever feel like a toy which had been cast aside once its owner had grown bored and impatient with it.
Whether my husband wanted me back or not, I was determined that my affair was not going to end like that!
I had bathed, shaved, changed out of my sloppy, faded clothes and into my most seductive, tightest, shortest black skirt and top. I had pulled on black hold-up stockings, lacy underwear and my highest, fuck-me heels. My hair was brushed, my Hotwife bracelet on my wrist with its charms jingling.
I was ready to take him on.
Now the moment had arrived I was still unclear what to do but I knew that the longer I delayed confronting Tony the harder it would be. It was time to act.
I guessed that, if he knew it was me at the door Tony might pretend to be out so as soon as I saw another resident approaching the block, I opened the door of my SUV, stepped out of the car and crossed to the main entrance making sure I arrived at the same time.
As I had expected, after giving me a very appreciative look the man smiled and politely held the door open for me. I slipped into the building and climbed the stairs to the floor where Tony’s apartment was then stood outside the door, my heart pounding. After a moment to compose myself I took a deep breath and knocked loudly.
There was a long pause before the door opened and my former lover stood before me. For a moment my resolve almost weakened; Tony looked simply gorgeous in tight black jeans that displayed his strong legs and tight buttocks panty-dampeningly well and a close fitting Polo shirt that showed off the gym-tightened muscles of his chest.
“Penny!” he exclaimed in genuine surprise.
“Hello Tony,” I replied, trying to keep my voice stable. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
There was a look almost of panic in his eyes. I knew I had done the right thing.
“Um… of course,” he mumbled stepping back and letting me enter.
I walked as confidently as I could into the place that had been our love nest for so many months; into the room where I had experienced more and better orgasms than in the whole of the rest of my life. The place where Tony and I had professed our love for each other. The place I had expected now to be living in as his wife.
A flash of anger passed through me as the knife was twisted in my wound. I bit my lip and continued as casually as I could.
“You look good. Are you going out?” I asked.
Tony looked down at himself and his clothes as if in surprise.
“Um… I was going to meet a friend,” he stammered.
“This friend wouldn’t be female by any chance,” asked coldly, still trying to maintain control.
The guilty look on his face told me I had guessed correctly.
“And she wouldn’t by any chance be married?” I added.
From his silent expression I had hit the spot again.
“Have you fucked her yet?” I challenged suddenly.
“No!” he exclaimed, finally shocked into speech.
“But you think tonight might be the night?” I stated.
He looked at me as if I was some kind of insane mind reader.
“You’re wearing your Chanel cologne,” I explained. It was the fragrance he had always used when preparing to fuck me. I knew it only too well. “You only wear it when you think you’re going to get your end away.”
“Penny I’m…”
“You’re what, Tony? You’re sorry you couldn’t be with me? You’re still in love with me? You’re desperate for me to move in with you? To marry you? I could have sworn you’d told me all of those things.”
“Please Penny…”
“Or is it that you’re ready to move on to some other poor girl, seduce her, fuck her for a few months too then dump her too as soon as her marriage starts to break up?”
He stared at me, astounded.
“Oh yes, I know a lot about you. I wish I had known it months ago but better late than never.”
There was a long silence.
“Do I know the lucky woman?” I asked.
“No,” he replied downcast. “I met her through work.”
To my shame, I felt relieved; if it had been a friend or even an acquaintance I would have felt I had to do something to prevent the sexual carnage that might follow. As it was, I could concentrate on my own needs alone – and those needs were becoming more obvious by the minute.
“And you’re planning to give her the same treatment you’ve given me?” I challenged.
He could barely look me in the eye.
“I’m sorry, Penny…” he began.
“You’re sorry!” I said coldly. “I’m sorry! Sorry I ever let you into my knickers. Sometimes I’m sorry I ever met you.”
That was a lie; even as I stared at him the attraction was still strong. He looked gorgeous; whoever the unlucky woman was, with his athletic body dressed like that her defences stood little chance. As I looked into his anxious, deep brown eyes there I could still see why I had fallen for him. Even in my anger, something in me still wanted him in the worst possible way.
“We were friends – good friends before this all happened,” I continued.
“We can still be friends, can’t we?” he insisted.
“Of course we can’t! We can’t see each other again. Not ever.”
He looked both relieved and disappointed at the same time.
“It’s not all my fault,” he whined. “You made promises too.”
“But you’re the one who’s broken them,” I hissed. “I should hate you!”
“But you don’t?” he asked, surprised.
I couldn’t answer that; too much had passed between us just to dismiss it all. I had actually been prepared to live with this man as his wife; that wasn’t an emotion that could be passed off so quickly. It sounded a lot like love, however painful it felt.
But if I was to survive the whole horrible experience I had to remain firm and in control.
“So let’s understand each other clearly. If you ever did love me, you don’t love me anymore, right?”
He looked very sheepish indeed as I went on, a plan forming in my mind as I spoke.
“And after the way you’ve treated me, I can’t possibly love you. I despise the way you’ve behaved but for some reason I can’t bring myself to hate you.”
He just looked at me in disbelief, wondering what on earth I would say next.
“After today I don’t want to see you again. I’m not going to haunt you or stalk you. I’m not going to try and cling onto you; I’m certainly not going to do anything stupid to myself over you but I want you out of my life.”
He looked relieved; perhaps the crazy woman wasn’t as crazy as she had seemed.
“So if we don’t love each other and aren’t going to see each other again, anything that happens now can only be physical, right?”
“Ri-ight,” he said bemused.
“In that case I want to you fuck me!”
“What?”
“I want you to fuck the living daylights out of me one last time,” I said, unzipping my skirt hurriedly and letting it fall to the floor. “You’re going to fuck me here, now, on my terms.”
“What the hell are you doing?”
Ignoring him, I rolled my top up over my head, throwing it onto my rumpled skirt then reached behind my back to release the clasp on my bra. It fell forwards, my tiny boobs freed – for all the good it did them.
“This all started with you having your way with me,” I said, my eyes fixed on his pleasingly fearful gaze. “It’s going to end here and now with me in charge.” I lowered my panties to the floor leaving me naked apart from my stockings, heels and Hotwife bracelet.
“You’re crazy,” he began.
“I was crazy, Tony,” I agreed as I slowly walked towards him until my face was inches from his muscular chest. “I was crazy for swallowing all your bullshit! All that crap about loving me and wanting me when all you really wanted was this!”
I grabbed his hand by the wrist and thrust his fingers against my freshly shaved vulva.
“Now it’s my turn to get what I want,” I said, rubbing his fingers up and down my slit. “You’re going to fuck me, Tony. You’re not going to fuck me because you want to; you’re going to do it because it’s what I want.”
“For fuck’s sake…”
“Fuck is right tony. You’re going to make it the best fuck I’ve ever had. And when it’s all over, I’ll walk out of that door and you will disappear from my life!”
It was insane; maybe I had gone a little crazy but it did the trick.
Tony and I fell on each other like wild animals, both of us tearing at his clothes until all he had left on were his ridiculous red socks. His hands flew to my body, crushing my boobs cruelly, pinching my nipples hard between his gingers. It was agony but I needed to feel the pain, as if only physical pain could purge me of my desire for him, making me free of him again. His hands were on my sides; on my buttocks, his fingers digging into my bare flesh, pulling me roughly against his already-hard cock.
In return my hands were on his shoulders, on his back, on his bottom, fingernails raking his skin, marking him. My mouth was on his neck, sucking and biting as he forced open my legs. I felt his rough hand on my mound, his fingers thrust brutally into my slit then hard upwards into my poorly lubricated vagina.
Ignoring the pain, I matched the heat of his passion blow for blow but even as we pawed each other I could tell something had changed. It was hot, it was lustful but the vital element of affection had all but gone.
When he finally threw me onto the sofa and forced my knees wide apart with his strong hands, I yielded not to a man I loved but to the prospect of an overpoweringly powerful fuck. And when he reared up over me, his strong chest above my flat boobs, his face inches above mine, it was no longer a face I adored.
Then, when his short, stubby cock forced its way into my vagina, it found my passage dry and tight, as if my body no longer needed or wanted his presence.
It took a good dozen thrusts of his hips before his cock finally bottomed out within me, my vagina finally and reluctantly lubricating in self-defence. It took barely a dozen more before I knew this charade had to end. Clamping down on his shaft with my pelvic floor as hard as I could, I tried desperately to bring him to orgasm and end what had become an ordeal.
“Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!”
Tony’s voice was ugly and crude, as were his thrusts, his body slamming into mine as if I was a sack of potatoes. I lay beneath him, legs spread obscenely wide, my vagina burning as his thick shaft rasped over and through my poorly lubricated entrance, the pain bringing everything into sharp relief.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”
“Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” I growled.
“Going to cummmm!”
“Oooowwwww!”
Tony’s face broke into the grotesque, leering grimace that I had once craved and which announced the arrival of his climax. I felt the head of his monstrously swollen cock swell even larger inside me followed by the familiar release of tension that presaged a huge ejaculation.
His cock throbbed and pulsed inside my body for a long time, semen spurting against my cervix as his thrusts first grew wild and uncontrolled then slowed rapidly to a panting halt, the dying throbs of his wilting erection deep within me.
Whoever it was that said the brain was the most important sexual organ in the body was right. I hadn’t come anywhere near orgasm, the dryness within me had burned the walls of my vagina with the friction his crude fucking had produced.
I had demanded the fuck of a lifetime; I had received brutal physical confirmation that our affair had ended.
Once again Tony’s semen was lying deep within my body but for the first time in my life, the earth-mother satisfaction of being inseminated by a strong, attractive man failed to arrive. Instead I felt physically disgusted and emotionally numb.
Even as his cock softened within me, I knew that I would be okay. The spell he had placed on me was broken. I could walk away from Tony and not look back.
If I had anywhere to walk to once Pete returned!
His erection gone, Tony rolled off me quickly. I winced as his half-hard cock was dragged through my red-raw entrance and closed my thighs defensively. There was a long silence, neither of us wanting to be the one to say what we were both thinking.
In the end, it was me who spoke first.
“The magic’s gone.”
There was a long pause before Tony responded.
“I’m sorry.”
He didn’t even try and argue. We lay side by side, my mind picturing Tony’s semen smeared across my cervix; knowing it was the last time it would ever happen.
“You didn’t cum.” It was more of a statement than a question.
“No,” I told him truthfully.
“Sorry.”
There was a long pause as we both wrestled with our thoughts and emotions. Had it been a mistake coming for one last farewell fuck? I hadn’t planned it; in truth it had only occurred to me as I stood angrily in front of him so had it given me what I needed – the return of a little self-respect?
Far from delivering the best fuck of my life, he had delivered one of the worst but in a strange way, that made everything better. The Breeding Frenzy had not arrived; I hadn’t begged him to make a baby in me; I hadn’t told him I loved him and wanted to marry him. I had remained in a kind of control throughout.
Finally I understood; it was the forbidden nature and loss of control that had made the sex with Tony great; the novelty, the unfamiliar passion.
Despite our fantasies, sex with my husband had become a bit stale but that was no excuse for my cheating on the Hotwife agreement we had made. Besides, in the past my husband had been a great lover. Hadn’t Julie implied strongly that with her Pete had really delivered the goods, even for a woman with her voracious appetite? If that was true, then if I had left Pete and married Tony, might we not have found ourselves in the same position in a few years’ time?
And by then I would have destroyed a wonderful marriage and a close, loving family.
I wondered whether my husband had been bored with me too; whether it had been this staleness that had driven him to want me to sleep with other men. Pete hadn’t asked me to have a long term affair. Far from it; Pete had wanted me to have a series of short, sharp fuck-dates with exciting new men which he could watch.
My husband was right; I had got what I wanted in bucketfuls. His fantasy had hardly been fulfilled at all.
I began to realise just how monumentally selfish and stupid I had been and how close I had come to losing the most precious things in my entire life – if I hadn’t already lost it.
“Will you get back with Pete?” Tony asked, waking me from my reverie.
“I have no idea,” I told him honestly. “It’s not just my decision.”
“Do you want to go back to him?”
More than anything else in the world, I thought but did not say out loud. If Julie was right, I had at least a chance of repairing the damage but I would never take my husband for granted again.
“Probably,” was all I could reply.
“What if he’s fucked someone else?” he asked.
Had fucked someone else; he had fucked Tony’s estranged wife Julie but despite that I would have had Pete without hesitation – if only he would have me. But I wasn’t going to tell Tony this.
“If he can live with me, I can live with him.”
I felt the tears beginning well up in my eyes. It was time to go before Tony saw any sign of weakness; back to the house I prayed would still be my home after Pete and I had talked.
I had done what I needed to do; laid the ghost, ended the relationship on my own terms. I no longer wanted or needed to be in Tony’s bed, in his apartment, be his wife. I no longer wanted him in my life. I wanted my husband back.
“Will I see you again?” Tony asked as I swivelled my sore vulva to the edge of the mattress and began to stand up.
I looked down on the man who used to be my lover, his naked body long, slim and almost hairless, his short stubby cock semi-erect on his upper thighs, dark in colour, still glistening with our combined juices.
“No,” I said firmly. “That would not be a good idea,” I added as I pulled on my knickers and bra.
“You’re probably right,” he smiled then added. “I’ll really miss your Little Pink Pussy, Mrs. Barker.”
“You’ll find another poor woman’s pussy. Maybe even tonight,” I smiled. “If your latest conquest is as easy and stupid as I was.”
She would have to be even more stupid than me; Tony’s neck now sported the makings of half a dozen hickeys. Although they would not achieve full ripeness until the next day, once his clothes were off there was no way his intended victim would fail to see them and know what they were.
I wondered momentarily whether I had just saved another wife from the humiliation I and my predecessors had suffered. As I pulled on my skirt and top, I hoped I had.
As I turned towards the door, intending to leave, he called out.
“Penny?”
I turned back towards him.
“I don’t suppose you fancy a last quickie? One for the road?” he asked.
He grinned and pointed to his groin where a few feeble stirrings could be seen. Was there no end to this man’s audacity?
“Save it for your married friend,” I said, gathering my belongings and heading for the door.
“I’m sorry it ended this way,” he said softly. “I really did have feelings for you,” he insisted. “Strong feelings!”
“It’s just that they were lust not love. And lust doesn’t last,” I said sarcastically, still trying to hold back the tears.
“Maybe. I’m really sorry, Penny.”
“So you said,” I replied. “I’m sorry too.”
I left without another word. As I passed through his front door for the last time the tears were running down my cheeks in streams but he hadn’t seen them.
I promised myself they would be the last tears I would shed over him.
***
I drove home quickly, my stomach churning with emotion, my eyes half blinded by tears. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have confused lust and love to such an extent that I had actually been prepared to sacrifice my marriage for mere lust? How could I, an intelligent, professional woman, an internationally recognised scientist with a PhD have let myself get so far out of control?
I was too blinded by emotion and the wounds were too raw even to think about it. Tony had treated me shabbily; right from my first seduction. From the moment his cock had penetrated my body he had treated me like an object; a fuck-doll; a creature to be used and discarded whenever he wanted.
But what was worse was that I had let him do it; wanted him to do it if the truth be known. Being a sex object had been exciting, fun, exhilarating, almost narcotic in its hold on me and I had come back for more over and over again like a dog returning to the master who beat it.
Now it was over and an emotional as well as physical distance was opening up between us, I could finally see how stupid I had been. I had put my entire marriage and family life on the line for what? To have an oversized piece of male flesh forced into my equally over-sized vagina by a man with an over-sized ego?
What in God’s name could I possibly do to try and repair the damage I had caused? Was it too late? Had my husband already made up his mind? Had I already lost him? Had he already found an alternative way of filling the space in his life and his bed I had occupied for so long?
The conference wouldn’t be over for another week. I couldn’t wait that long.
Jesus! I hoped there was still time!
