by Ben Boswell
“Tell me what’s going on,” I said by way of a reply.
She laughed, but there were suddenly tears in her eyes. “I don’t know, honey, but I don’t want to lose you.”
“Never.”
She forced a smile and wiped her eyes. “Easy to say. But I’m afraid you won’t like the real me.”
“And what’s that?”
Her eyes glistened again, and a single tear ran down her cheek. “A whore. A slut.”
“No, don’t say that! That’s just… That’s just part of the game. Just words.”
She shook her head. “No, Bill, it’s more than that. I like it. I like the way it makes me feel to go to Chucky, knowing it’s about nothing more than sex. Driving to his place, with no panties, knowing that there will be no romance, no talking, just fucking. God, it makes me feel so alive.”
I smiled. “I know. That’s part of what has me so turned on. Seeing this other side of you.” I paused, hesitated, before continuing. “And I also know it’s not something I can provide. It can’t just be sex between us. There’s just too much else.”
“That doesn’t mean I have to do it.”
“No, but why not? It turns you on. It turns me on.”
Even as I said it, I could feel my stomach churning. Here I was, again, talking my wife into having sex with another man—and not just sex, but dirty, animalistic fucking.
“So what are the boundaries?”
“I trust you,” I replied.
“Really?”
“Really.”
She scooted closer to me, her hand trailing over my stomach, cupping my package.
“So, if he wants anal sex, I should let him?”
My cock reacted immediately, twitching to life. She stroked my increasingly turgid shaft.
“If that’s what you want.”
“I do,” she cooed. “I want him in my butt.”
I groaned softly.
“What if he wants to take me out, play with me in public?”
That one sent a shiver up my spine. I pictured him stroking her thigh at the bar. Imagined him fingering her at the club. Fantasized her bent over a bathroom sink.
“I trust you,” I choked out.
She stroked me harder.
“What if he wants to—”
“Oh God, anything. Anything you want.”
“Anything?” Her voice dripped with suggestion.
“Anything,” I groaned, suddenly realizing how close I was.
Terri realized it too, and without hesitation dove below the covers. Her mouth found my cock just as I started to come.
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It was another week before they hooked up again. Another week of daily bouts of anxiety and anticipation followed by amorous romps in bed. But sure enough, he’d sent a text and she’d accepted and gone.
Less than 30 minutes later my phone rang. It was Terri. She couldn’t be done yet, and anyway, she usually just texted that she was coming home rather than call. Something must be wrong. Maybe they’d fought. Maybe her car had broken down.
I answered the call.
“Hey, what’s up?” I asked.
Nothing. No answer. Just some rustling. Some background noise. Then I heard sounds, labored breaths, groans. Had she been in an accident?
“Terri? Is that you? Is everything okay?”
More grunts and whines.
“Terri? What’s wrong?”
Then suddenly, her voice, strained: “Oh God, Bill, oh God, he’s in my ass.”
“Are you okay?”
“It hurts,” she groaned.
“You don’t have to—”
His voice cut me off. Distant, muffled, he said, “Tell him.”
“It hurts,” she groaned again, “but I like it. I like it.”
A small chuckle, then “Good girl.”
“Terri? Terri, are you sure? You can stop.” I gasped into the phone, but there was no reply. The line had been disconnected.
I immediately called back, but it went right to voice mail. Her phone had been turned off.
I could picture it. Couldn’t help but picture it, in fact. Terri on her hands and knees. Chucky behind her ramming his fat cock into her ass. Even though she’d told me we were the same size, in my mind’s eye, he was huge. He would have planned it. Taken her phone from her purse before taking her to bed. And then, when he was inside her, as she struggled to adjust to the new sensation, he’d called my number and placed the phone by her mouth so that I could hear her sounds.
You bastard, she’d probably said after he hung up, but with a smile.
But he probably had the bigger smile because even as I was thinking all this through, I knew he was still inside her ass, sodomizing my eager wife.
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She didn’t come back home for almost another two hours. I heard her car pull into the driveway, but when she didn’t come inside for a few minutes, I went downstairs to see what was going on.
She walked into the house just as I was coming down the stairs. She looked like death, pale faced, walking gingerly, eyes unfocused.
“Oh God, Terri, are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
She looked up at me with blank eyes, slowly processing my words. Then she shook her head slightly and resumed her careful shuffle over to the sofa.
“Terri, do you need to see a doctor?”
She dropped onto the cushions.
“No, I’m...I’m okay,” she replied shakily. “Just…could you get me a drink?”
“Wine?”
“Scotch.”
She rarely drank anything hard. Still, I nodded and gave her a generous pour. She took a big gulp. Then she looked at me again, a wan smile on her face.
“That was...intense.”
“What happened?”
“Honey, I’ll tell you everything, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to, um, entertain you after. Would you rather I tell you later?”
“No,” I replied quickly. “Tell me now.”
She nodded. “I’ve never... It’s weird... I didn’t expect...”
“Terri, slow down. Just tell me what happened.”
“Well, you know what happened. I gave...he took my butt. I thought it would be just a quick thing, you know, just, like when he put his finger back there. A little weird, but you know, not that big a deal.”
“But it wasn’t?”
She shook her head. “God, I don’t even know how to explain it. When he first put it in, it took my breath away.”
“It hurt?”
She nodded again. “Yes, but that wasn’t the main sensation. It was more this sense of being taken, of being completely possessed. The feeling was so intense, so overwhelming. Then he’d pull out, almost all the way, and I could breathe again. Think again. And then he’d enter me, and I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t even make a sound. Maybe it was just because it was my first time. He didn’t harm me. I’m not, you know, injured or anything. Just shaken up.”
“How did he treat you after?”
“There wasn’t much after to speak of. He, um, dragged it out. He’d do it for ten, fifteen minutes, then we’d take a break, he’d caress my back, rub my shoulders, the whole time saying how good it felt, how much he was enjoying fucking my ass. Then we’d switch positions and start again.
“We started off side by side, him spooning me as he entered me from behind. Then he put me on my hands and knees and took me that way. Then he laid on his back and pulled me on my back on top of him. God that was intense. Him thrusting into my butt, my entire body available to his hands.”
“Did you come?”
“Yes, twice. The first was before the anal, when he was just sort of playing with me. But then, yes, once, during. When I was laying across him. He was deep inside me, and then he stopped thrusting and just rubbed my clit.”
She had a distant look in her eyes as she relived the moment. The realization that she was still with him at that moment, even though she was physically with me, was like a kick in the gut
.
She noticed. “Are you okay with this?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted honestly.
“You know I love only you.”
“But you love what he does to you.”
She hesitated. “I don’t know. I guess I do.”
“Why?”
“Oh God, Bill. What do you want from me?”
“I want you to be happy. It makes me happy.”
“Does it? Does it really?”
“I think so.”
“Think? Jesus, Bill, I need more certainty. I can’t have you come back and hate me for this, resent me, throw it back in my face.”
“Terri, this is new to me. I wish I had certainty, too. All I know is that all of this turns me on....” I paused. Hesitated. This was the hard part. “And hurts. Fuck, it hurts. Goddamn it, Terri, I wish all you wanted was me.”
She had tears in her eyes. “Bill, all I need is you. I swear.”
“I know. I know. I’m all you need. I get it. But I’m not all you want.”
“You could be.”
I shook my head. “No, baby, I couldn’t. I could never do to you what he did tonight. You know that.”
“He didn’t do anything to me. Nothing I didn’t want.”
I sighed. I knew that. Why was it so hard to explain myself? The reality was, I knew, at least in part, what she wanted, craved, if not needed. She got off on that feeling of being taken. Her parents seemed like decent folks, so it wasn’t fair to phrase it that way, but there was some daddy issue there.
Terri, for some reason, was turned on by meeting another man’s needs and desires. The problem was, my only need and desire was to protect and please her. There was nothing I wanted that she was not willing to give, but she seemed to need to make a sacrifice, whether dignity or physical comfort. She wanted someone to push her. And all I really wanted was to stay in her comfort zone. And that’s the killer. To meet her needs, I needed to realize I couldn’t meet them.
I’d been lost in thought so long that Terri grew concerned. “Bill, are you...are we okay?”
The image of Terri, naked, writhing in passion as Chucky sodomized her flashed through my mind. Jesus, he’d almost fucked her into shock. And all she seemed worried about was whether we were okay.
“Terri, baby, I love you. Yeah, we’re okay. Or at least, we’ll be okay. I think. I don’t know where this leads or ends. But it seems like we need to keep going. And in a weird way, I feel like we’re being honest with each other for the first time.”
She gave me a wan smile. “Maybe. But maybe honesty is more than it’s cracked up to be.”
“Do you mean that?”
“I don’t know.”
I knew where she was coming from. We were improvising, taking risks. I forced a smile. “I know you’re beat. Go to bed. I’ll finish off my drink and join you later.”
She nodded and slowly made her way upstairs. I poured myself another generous glass of scotch. I didn’t want this to end. Neither did she. But we both recognized the dangers. That, in itself, was reassuring. But would it be enough? I wasn’t sure.
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One day she texted me at work, said things were slow. She asked if I was free for lunch. I wasn’t. My meetings were stacked up through the afternoon. So she asked if I’d mind if she “had lunch” with Chucky. And sure enough, that evening, after the kids were in bed, she confirmed my expectations by graphically recounting that the only thing she’d eaten was him.
That was the first time she’d booty called him, and despite all that had already happened, it was still oddly gut wrenching, mostly because for the first time, it had been initiated clearly by her. She’d always been a willing participant, of course, but that reality had always seemed a little abstract as long as she was just responding to either my prompting or his invitations.
I’d wanted her to take responsibility, but now that she had, it bothered me. It shouldn’t have. The alternative was that she was somehow sacrificing herself to meet my needs. It shouldn’t have bothered me, but it did.
He initiated the next two meetings, one a straight-booty call that came in just as we’d finished putting the kids to bed, the other a date to meet at a happy hour spot.
The happy hour had resulted in new twist. After making out in the bar, he’d taken her home. He’d stripped her and then produced a set of handcuffs. With her wrists chained behind her back, he’d pushed her to her knees and made her service him until he finished in her mouth.
In bed after, she described it all. The way he’d wound her hair around his fist. How he’d pulled her off balance so that her mouth was impaled on his cock. How he’d used her mouth like a cunt, thrusting hard. It was so vivid, so slutty, so submissive, I came just from her running her fingertip over my shaft.
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I got a call out of the blue from Todd Arpel. A former neighbor, we used to grill out together. We were Facebook friends, but I hadn’t seen him in a couple of years. He invited me out for a beer.
He didn’t waste any time. The beers arrived, and he immediately asked, “Hey, how are things between you and Terri?”
“Great,” I replied honestly, albeit without elaboration.
He drained his glass and waved for another.
“Hey, I hate to be the one to do this, but look you’re a good guy. I saw her...with another man.”
I waved it away. “She has male friends. It’s okay.”
“Buddy, this guy was all over her. All over. Sucking face in a bar. This bar,” he added, nodding toward a booth in the corner. “I’m pretty sure he was checking the oil, too.”
It was dark. I hoped he couldn’t see me blushing, though my cheeks felt like they were on fire.
“You must have made a mistake. I trust Terri completely.” I stood and threw a ten on the table. “Thanks.”
I left the bar and stumbled outside. I realized I hadn’t taken a breath in a minute. I leaned against the wall and gasped for air, then again, and again, until I felt dizzy. I forced myself to calm down.
When I’d finally recovered my composure, I went down the street into a different bar and ordered a shot. Then another.
The shit had suddenly gotten real. This was no longer just some sort of private fantasy. Somehow, Todd’s witnessing it made it even more real, palpable. Jesus, my wife was now regularly fucking another man. And the fact that now other people, virtual strangers, were in on it made that much more concrete.
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I don’t like to talk about my job. It rates pretty low on job satisfaction, which I guess may explain why I was so vulnerable to disruptions in my personal life that added excitement to the daily grind. And indeed, thinking about Terri and her adventures was an effective way to add a little spice to a day that would otherwise be spent working through a stack of TPS reports.
But I’m good at what I do. Happily senior management sees it that way and pays me accordingly. I’ve tried to transfer, come to management with other job offers, and they always offer me more to stay in place. It is a case of golden handcuffs to be sure.
But the combination of often anti-social co-workers, tedious daily routine, and the burden of having to troubleshoot every new crisis often wore me down. What made it worthwhile was coming home to my perfect, albeit increasingly strange, life. Lovely home, beautiful kids, perfect wife.
It had been an exceptionally miserable day at work. Just the right combination of time-wasting meetings and unreasonable demands from management to make it one of those days where, despite the pay, I was just a twitch away from quitting.
On the drive home, I thought of Terri. We’d have to play at being normal for the kids. Make dinner. Play games. Put the kids down with baths and books. But I couldn’t wait to get her to bed. Hear her repeat her latest adventure with Chucky. Feel the passion flowing through her. Enjoy that wicked, addictive combination of jealousy and lust.
But when I got home, she was on her way out. Chucky had called and invited her out for drinks
and some live music. She’d texted the news, but I’d missed it somehow in the rush of the day.
She was obviously looking forward to it. Her outfit was carefully calculated for the evening: skinny, painted-on jeans; suede, high-heeled boots; a loose-fitting black silk blouse with a lace camisole beneath; a wrist-full of hoop bracelets. Sexy, sexy, sexy, but appropriate for seeing a bar’s house band.
“You’re okay with me going out, right?”
“Yeah, yeah, of course. Have fun.”
She read something in my tone.
“Are you sure?” Then after a pause. “How was work?”
“Miserable,” I replied. “I’ll tell you later.”
She hesitated. I wished that she would stay with me, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask for it. I hoped she could read my mind. And I could see her debating it. Wondering whether she should go out.
“Okay,” she said giving me a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t wait up.... or do, and I’ll make it worth your while,” she said lewdly.
“Have fun,” I repeated a little listlessly, at least to my mind.
And she was gone.
I snarfed down leftovers, put the kids to bed. I couldn’t sleep. She knew I didn’t really want her to go out, but she’d still gone. Or had she known? She should have. In years past, Terri would have read my needs instantly. But we’d so complicated things that everything was up in the air.
Why did she go? Was she going for me? Because she knew this turned me on, and that after a bad day I’d welcome the thrill of a new experience for her to report? Or did she go for herself? Had she been thinking of it all day, of dressing up for Chucky, of playing with him, or giving herself to him? Or had she been worried about Chucky? Not wanting to disappoint him? Or worst of all, was it just that with another man in her life, she was less attuned to my needs and desires?
She got home late. I feigned sleep and she let me.
The stories from that evening were hot when we got to them. They’d actually made it to the bar. He’d played with her in public, through her tight jeans, under her loose top. She gave me all the details, as always. But for some reason, this time, it didn’t feel the same.
CHAPTER 10:
COMBUSTION
“We need to talk...”