aftermath

The first part of this story describes sexual activity between a middle aged husband and a younger man. It can be found in the Gay Male category.



THE COMPUTER COURSE — AFTERMATH



I arrived home from work at the usual time and not seeing my wife around, I poked my head into the kitchen to be greeted by a most delicious aroma. Helen was busy tipping sliced vegetables into a pan.



“That smells good, and I’m famished” I said happily. “How long have I got before you serve it out?”



“I’m doing your favourite. I hope that you will still feel like eating when it is ready,” she told me mysteriously.



“Half an hour?” I guessed the answer to my unanswered question. When confirmed that I had the usual leeway I went upstairs to switch on my PC. It had become my habit to spend this period checking on my E-mail. The normal pattern was disrupted when I found my screen saver flickering on the screen but I just assumed that I had forgotten to switch off the previous night.



However, on touching the mouse, I found that a file had been opened. The title blazed out at me — ‘The Computer Course’. I went cold all over because I knew for a fact that I had not accessed the file for over two weeks. A noise from the door made turn to see Helen casually leaning against the wall watching me. “Is it true?” she asked.



“No — of course it isn’t. I made it up. It’s just a story,” I blustered.



Helen nodded. “Just a story?”



“Yes — just a story,” I confirmed with what I hoped was a casual laugh.



“All the product of your imagination?”



I just nodded, congratulating myself on having weathered the storm.



“That does give rise to another question,” she said quietly. “What inspired you to write such filth? How long have you been thinking about that kind of thing? Have you been a secret homosexual all of our marriage and finally felt driven to put your foetid fantasies into words?”



“No,” I stammered answering only the last of her questions.



“There are only two alternatives. Either you have put a great deal of thought into doing that sort of thing or the story is true and it was something that just happened. I think the first is far worse.”



“The story is true,” I confessed.



“I am not going to ask any questions — heaven knows, you have left little enough to ask. I’m going back downstairs, your dinner will be out in five minutes.” At the door she paused and added, “Don’t even consider deleting that file — I have printed some copies whatever you do.”



Glancing at the paper hopper of my printer with a feeling of despair, I estimated that there were now probably four hard copies of my shame in existence. During these few minutes of grace, I tried desperately to devise a strategy but the best I could manage was to keep my head down and be as obliging as possible until it all blew over.



At the dining table, Helen asked how I intended to spend the evening and I reminded her that the computer game I had ordered was amongst the items of that morning’s postal delivery.



“If you think you are going to be playing with that then you have another think coming,” she told me flatly. “I want you where I can see you — not upstairs sending E-mails to your pervert friends and scanning the internet for pornography.”



“Honest, I don’t do that. I only want to tryout the game.”



“Forget it because I have other plans for you. You are going to spend the evening doing all the house work that you have only pretended to do over the years.”



“I’ll do anything you say,” I muttered humbly.



“You will if you want to stay married to me. The galling thing is that I have always been loyal to you and it has not always easy. When I think of the chances that I have had — and with men whose prick is a damn sight bigger than yours.”



“How do you know that?” I ventured foolishly.



“That’s for me to know and you to worry about,” she said smugly. I remained silent but Helen continued, “On second thoughts, if I leave it like that your devious mind will work out some justification for your gross behaviour. I can say that I have never done anything to be at all ashamed about.”



As Helen had anticipated, my appetite had deserted me and I merely toyed with the food on my plate. Clearing the dishes she observed, “You should have made most of that because it is the last favourite meal or even hot food that I will prepare for you. In fact you are not going to get anything that you like for a very long time. I am going to really punish you. You are going to find out exactly how much your escapade has upset me.”



As promised I spent the evening scrubbing and polishing, with my wife constantly checking that I had done it to her satisfaction. I wondered how long this purgatory would continue before I had expiated my sin — or she became bored of punishing me. A week? a month? — even then I realised I was getting off lightly because I had delivered perfect grounds for divorce.



In the bedroom later, instead of getting straight into bed, Helen put on a fashion show for herself, trying on the various items of erotic underwear that she had accumulated over the years, and admiring herself in the mirror. Just watching I became incredibly aroused. I just hovered, afraid that I was to be banished to the guest room and not daring to get into bed without permission. The finale came when she stood in front of me completely naked, cupped her breasts in her hands and jiggled them as if weighing a pair of melons, then observed. “Not bad, even though I say it myself. I’m sure that there must be some man somewhere who will still fancy them.”



“I still fancy them. I fancy you as much as I ever did. Nothing has changed,” I said eagerly.



“Hasn’t it?” Her tone voice was ambiguous. It might have been uncertain as if needing reassurance or it might have contained an icy resolve.



I optimistically opted for the first interpretation. It was obvious — she was afraid that I had become totally bent and needed to know that I still desired her as a woman — hence the flaunting of her body in front of me. I smiled secretly to myself — everything was going to be all right.



In bed I rolled to her and grasped her breast, seeking out the nipple between thumb and forefinger with the intention of working the old magic. “Take your filthy hands off me,” she hissed. “I don’t know where you’ve been.” There was a pause and then said, “No — the trouble is that I know exactly where you have been.”



Severely chastened I lay silent. I continued lying like for along time until Helen’s steady breathing suggested that she was asleep. My prick was still very stiff and it was beginning to ache intolerable. I started to stroke myself, not really masturbating, rather just seeking to ease the pain.



“Keep your hands off yourself as well,” came a voice out of the darkness. “I very nearly made you wear gloves. I’m warning you — if there is any more movement from your side of the bed, a wet patch on the sheet in the morning or even a suspicious stain, then you are out of here.”



For the rest of the night I lay with hands clenched rigidly by my sides and it was almost dawn before I finally found sleep. The next day it was the same — an evening of hard labour, a tantalising fashion show followed by a frustrated sleepless night. Following nights repeated the pattern until I was in a state of total torment. I tried lying on my stomach but had to constantly change position. “For God’s sake lie still and let me get some sleep,” Helen complained.



“I can’t. My prick is killing me – it’s agony. I am going to go crazy if I can’t cum.”



“All right — if that is the only way I am going to get any peace.”



“Thank you,” I gasped rolling nearer to her. I did not think I would be allowed to fuck her but I hoped that she might help me.



Helen was quick to disillusion me. “I’m not touching the disgusting thing if that’s what you think.”



It didn’t matter — I had half expected this. I took hold of my throbbing member and gave a long sigh at the relief that just the touch of my hand afforded. “Not in the bed,” she ordered. “I do not see why I should lie and listen to you abusing yourself. If you must do it then go and sit in the chair.”



Panicking in case my wife changed her mind, I jumped out of bed and groped through the darkness until I found the chair. I leaned back with eyes closed anticipating the blessed relief to come – and then the light came on. Helen was lying watching me with dispassionate eyes. Despite this ultimate humiliation I had to choice but to persevere. Very quickly, a stream of spunk jetted from my cock, reaching almost to the bedroom door. Immediately the light went out again. “You can clean that mess up before you come back to bed,” Helen ordered. It took me a long time crawling in the darkness, clutching a handful of tissue and feeling for the sticky trail, before I was confident that all evidence had been removed.



The next night on entering the bedroom, the first thing I saw was a gigantic vibrator lying on the bed. There was no show, Helen was obviously too keen to try her new toy for as soon as the light went out the buzzing started. “Just because you are being punished does not mean that I have to go without,” she told me in justification.



A little while later, after a noisy orgasm, she said, “This really is nice and big. There must be a man somewhere with a dick this size.” Then she laughed and added, “If we found one, I wonder who would want him most — you or me?”



I endured the same thing for the next five nights with similar taunts but then I surrendered. As soon as I got home from work, I said, “I give in. I will do all the work that you say to make amends but I just can’t stand the rest. At least let me move into the spare bedroom until I am forgiven. Haven’t I suffered enough?”



“You haven’t even started suffering. Anyway, how can I possibly forgive you when I don’t understand why you did it. Explain.”



“I can’t explain because I don’t understand it myself. I’m not gay. It just happened and I don’t know why. It was something to do with Dave — he is somehow special.”



“If he is so special then I want to meet him.”



“You can’t”



“It’s up to you. If I meet him then I might just understand. Anyway, there were two of you at it — it is rather unfair that you should be the only one being punished.”



That decided it. Even if it meant further hassle for me, I could not involve Dave in my wife’s recriminations. “I can’t get in touch with him. I do not know where he lives and I haven’t got his telephone number.”



“What about E-mail?”



“He might not even have a computer.”



“Don’t be stupid. He works for the same firm as you. Surely an organisation like that has an internal mail network.”



“I shook my head. “I just can’t do it,” I said.



“Please yourself,” Helen told me. “I have no intention of letting up on you until I have met him.”



Next day at work I made contact. Helen had warned me not to let Dave know that the secret was discovered. It would have been difficult anyway for even the messages that I did send needed to be very circumspect — the firm applied a very rigorous vetting policy on all telephone calls and internal mail. My message simply said: Need to see you re computer course applications. Alan.



The reply was even more succinct. ‘Difficult.’



I sent back, ‘Desperately important — meet you half way’ and was relieved to receive ‘OK This Saturday, 2p.m.’ naming a hotel in a town equidistant from our home cities. That evening I told Helen and she relaxed the pressure on me. During the nights to the weekend, there was still no sex but my hard labour was cancelled and a couple of nights I was allowed to try out my new game.



My wife insisted on ringing the hotel to make a reservation and when Saturday arrived, we drove down. We booked in and took a light lunch in the restaurant. When we had finished eating, I was instructed to stay in the bar for the next hour and not go back to the room until 2 p.m. This was better than I had hoped for because it gave me the chance to collar Dave when he arrived and warn him what was in store. I took one quick drink then lurked in sight of the car park entrance, looking constantly at my watch. I only needed him to arrive a couple of minutes early but was disappointed — in fact I even risked running over for five minutes, so desperate was I for a quick word with my friend.



On returning to the room I was shocked by what found. Helen had changed into a dress that I had never seen before. It was very low cut and with an extremely short spit skirt. She was also wearing very high stiletto heeled shoes. The most extreme part of the outfit was her underwear — if it deserved that name. It was easily visible through the slit as she moved and comprised little more than a thong over the crotch that seemed little thicker than a shoelace.



“What is this in aid of?” I asked.



“After reading your story, I thought I might need to look a bit sexy if I wanted to compete with your Mr Wonderful,” she said and I had the distinct feeling that she was laughing at me.



“It’s a bit over the top don’t you think?” I said, trying to make my voice light to conceal an increased sense of unease.



“You’re a model of decorum, I suppose.”



I never did stand a chance with my wife when it came to verbal fencing so I decided my best chance of safety lay in silence. At that moment there was a quiet knock on the door. If that turned out to be my friend then I could not understand how I had possible missed him. Nevertheless I started to hurry towards the door when a cold voice snapped, “Stay where you are,” and Helen strode past to do the honours.



The male outside started to speak but his voice died on seeing my wife and than he said, “I seem to have come to the wrong room.”



“Dave, I presume,” she said and I could tell from her voice that my wife had accompanied her words with a most alluring smile.



Helen stepped aside to let him enter and when Dave saw me his face broke into a wide lecherous smile and he rolled his eyes up towards the ceiling. It was obvious that he thought I had laid on a hooker for us to share. I spoke quickly to dispel this allusion. “Dave – can I introduce my wife Helen.”



The smile died on my pal’s face and his eyes flitted uneasily from side to side as he realised that he had walked into a situation. Helen laughed softly, “I know Dave. You’re a bit confused because you didn’t expect to find me here. Read this – I think it will explain far better than I can. Sit down, there is quite a lot of it.” As she spoke, my wife handed him a printed copy of my incriminating story.



Rather bemused Dave started reading but at the bottom of the first page he stopped and looked accusingly at me. I could only meet his gaze for a moment before looking away. “Read on,” Helen ordered. “I think you will agree with me that my multi-talented husband has quite a flair for description. He makes you feel as if you were there – but then of course, you were.”



Not wanting to look at me and not daring to look at my wife, Dave returned his attention to the printed sheets. Where he had scanned the first page quickly, he now seemed to read extremely slowly. I went to the other armchair, deciding that I would rather feel less awkward sitting than standing. Helen lit a cigarette and continued to pace backwards and forwards a few paces in front of him. Eventually he finished reading only to start tapping the pages back into perfect alignment on his knee. My wife stopped this activity by holding out her hand and this gave my friend the opportunity to glance again at me. Without the need for words his eyes plainly sent the message ‘ You stupid bugger’.



Helen stepped closer to him and said seductively, “Don’t worry Dave, I’m not upset at you. I only want to clarify some details from my husband’s very explicit story. Would you stand up for a moment.” He had no choice but to oblige and they finished standing face to face with less than an inch separating my wife’s thrusting tits from his chest. Looking up into his face she said innocently, “Alan claims that your cock is like that of a Greek God – is that true?” Then, without giving chance for him to answer she reached out to cup his genitals and give them a gentle squeeze.



Dave looked around wildly – but not at me. I was a bit put out seeing my wife touch a man in that area even through the thickness of his trousers but at the same time I was glad it was his turn to be tormented instead of me. But her next actions shocked me to the core. “I agree – you do feel pretty substantial in that department but I do need a visual check.” As she spoke, without waiting for any reaction from her victim, Helen undid his belt and then pulled down the zip allowing his trousers to fall around his ankles. Possibly because he had expected to find me alone, he had neglected to wear underpants and now his cock sprang up in full erect glory.



Without hesitation, she reached out to grasp and then run her hands silkily up and down the shaft.



I was watching the petrified expression on my friend’s face and was startled to find my wife looking over her shoulder at me. “You were right my darling. It really is beautiful,” she said. “I can fully understand now why you couldn’t resist the temptation to put it in your mouth.”



I sat frozen in disbelief as she mimicked exactly everything that I had described, then parted those luscious lips that only belonged to me and took his throbbing cock deep inside her mouth. OK – so she had made the gesture, punished me but surely enough was enough, she couldn’t possibly be planning to go through with it. I had quite forgotten my own words, that having started to suck his gorgeous cock I had found it quite impossible to stop. With mounting horror and a twisted feeling growing in my gut, I watched her working on his penis with an enthusiasm that she had never shown with me. Despite the horror, despite the jealousy I realised that part of the physical distress was due to my own prick being agonisingly stiff.



Dave was standing almost immobile, eyes closed and head tilted towards the ceiling but it was obvious that he did not know what to do with his hands. Time seemed to stand still as, with pounding heart, I watched the blow-job carried to its inevitable conclusion. With Dave moaning and my wife’s throat gulping, the weeks of frustration combined with the trauma of watching my faithful wife happily swallowing another mans cum, caused me to deposit a pool of semen on the inside of my pants.



Helen stood and turned towards me. There was spunk coated all round her mouth with on strand dangling from her chin. There was a look of defiance in her eyes as she started to walk in my direction. For one dreadful moment I thought that she intended to kiss me but instead she bent down to snap open her handbag and extract a tissue, which she used to clean up her face. I could not believe what I had just witnessed. My faithful wife for more than a score of years had just fellated another man – an action that she had not done to me for longer than I could remember and then only as part of mutual oral sex. To be more exact, I doubted if she had actually swallowed my cum more than three times during the whole of the marriage – and if I remembered correctly, all of those times were before we actually tied the knot. My wife had administered a pretty harsh punishment for my misdemeanour but I consoled myself with the thought that this had got to wipe the slate clean and restore normal marital relations.



My friend had turned sideways and was rather shamefacedly trying to push his prick back inside his pants. “Don’t bother Davey boy, you and I are going to take a shower,” Helen told him cheerfully. “I’m sure that is the next thing on the agenda.”



“But..” Dave started to protest. I think he was as anxious to escape as I was to see him leave.

“Now don’t go telling me that the shower is too small for two. I seem to remember that in the story you held the opposite opinion.” Laughing as she spoke, Helen pre-empted further objection by grabbing hold of his tie and set off for the tiny bathroom, dragging him behind her, like a reluctant bull being led to market.



The moment that I was alone I searched my pockets for tissues and drawing a blank, pinched some from my wife’s handbag. I used these to mop the inside of my pants as much as I could then stuffed the sodden paper mess into my pocket. My intention had been to remain in the bedroom until they returned but found my feet heading towards the sound of running water as if no longer under my control. During the time I had taken to clean myself up, my wife and friend had undressed and were now crammed naked and together under the warm shower jets. The shower curtain had been half pulled closed. This still afforded me an almost perfect view but hid me from my friend’s eyes and, freed from the constraint of my beady gaze, I could see that he was enthusiastically joining in the spirit of the occasion. As I watched Dave’s hands slid sensuously over her lush ripe curves and I could not help feeling that they imparted a sense of ownership. My wife’s hands were not idle but they concentrated exclusively on his buttocks and genital region. I knew exactly the pleasure that she was experiencing because she was doing just the same as I did, as related in the story. He was getting very aroused with his cock sticking out rigidly in front of him.



Almost beside himself with passion, Dave tried to thrust his pulsing member between her legs. My heart sank. ‘She can’t possibly intend to let him actually fuck her’ I thought. So it was with utmost relief that I saw her almost casually turn her body just enough to frustrate. He kept thrusting with growing desperation and I could guess the pleasure that Helen got from toying with him as a matador does with a bull. Tempted beyond endurance, my one time lover pushed her back against the side of the cubicle, forced his thigh between hers and started prising her legs apart. “No,” she said sharply. “I have no intention of getting soap inside me, I thought you knew better than that. I’m hungry so I’m going down to the restaurant now. Perhaps you should turn the water to very cold for a while.” With that, taking advantage of his shock, Helen slipped out of the shower, throwing me an almost friendly grin as she skipped past me dragging a towel around her as she went.



‘That’s told him’, I thought with a glow of relieved satisfaction. A meaningless blow-job was one thing but if he thought my wife would let him get his end away with her then he had another think coming. That was his punishment – to be driven almost frantic with desire and then told to take a cold shower. It was almost poetic.



Helen dressed in a more conservative fashion for the restaurant. I now looked tidy and Dave emerged from the bathroom dressed but still looking hot and bothered and we set off as a trio in search of food. During the meal, feeling much happier, I was able to make some general contributions to the conversation but there was no need because Helen was happy conducting a monologue. She was apparently having the time of her life, overflowing with effervescence and verbosity. Dave was completely different from how I remembered, seeming almost tongue-tied on the few occasions that he attempted to speak. Throughout, almost oblivious of my presence, he was constantly searching my wife’s face for some private glance and when not, his eyes were fixated by her tits. I could tell that he was remembering how they had felt under his hands in the shower and he was craving for more of the same. Already Helen had got under his skin and it pleased me to see him suffering.



After we had eaten our sweets, Dave decided to cut his losses. Standing up hesitantly he pointed out that he had not yet been up to his room and his luggage was still awaiting his attention behind the desk in the lobby. “I’ll get off to my own room and leave you two alone,” he offered diplomatically.



Helen would not hear of it. She said that after reading my story, she was intrigued to know him better and with a small laugh conceded that the earlier bit of fun at my expense had not really helped her get an insight into his character. Dave allowed himself to be too easily persuaded and I detected a glimmer of hope returning to his eye.



Our room contained a double bed and a cottage type suite comprising a small settee and one armchair. I made straight for the settee and plonked myself down. I did not care who sat beside me and who took the chair but I was determined that they would not sit together. I had another think coming. “I want you in the chair,” Helen instructed, he voice back to the old coldness. “Move it over there and swivel it round. Dave and I are going on the bed and that will give you the best viewpoint.”



“But – I thought…” I stammered.



“You thought that one symbolic bit of head was going to clear the slate did you my love,” she said with false sweetness. Have another read of your erotic story and remind yourself exactly how aggrieved I am entitled to be. Your friend is going to fuck me and you are going to watch and if you leave that chair before I tell you to, then consider yourself to have walked out of the marriage. You made it sound so good that I feel that I owe it to myself to check out the experience for myself.”



While I hastened to adjust the position of the chair, keeping my head bowed to hide the tears in my eyes, Helen turned to Dave and asked, “Is that all right with you lover?”



Her lover to be, my ex lover did not speak but nodded his head enthusiastically with eyes already filled with lustful anticipation. My wife taking her revenge this far hurt me but I was more hurt by Dave’s eagerness to go along with her. When he and I had sex there was an intimate rapport and at other times we had shared a manly camaraderie – but that now counted for nothing. Now in blatant betrayal, Dave was very obviously prepared to fuck my wife in front of me.



My heart sank as Helen deliberately positioned herself with legs spread wide in an openly invitational manner. Dave seemed almost clumsy in his eagerness as he manoeuvred himself into position above her but at the very last moment she deftly extricated herself from his embrace and skipped off the bed. I felt a surge of relief – it was all one big tease. Helen had obviously taken this to the brink to torment me and was punishing him at the same time by denying her body when he must have assumed that it was all in the bag. My friends face showed that his thought processes were paralleling my own but when she leaned forward and whispered something in his ear, the grin that appeared on his lips gave the first intimation that I had read the scene wrong.



Dave leaned back smiling supporting himself on his hands with legs spread and penis standing rigidly at the ready. Helen walked round between his legs, turned and then backed up to him, halting only when she came up against his dick. She then put a hand on each of his thighs, bent and raised her legs until her whole weight was supported by her arms. At this point, acting under orders, Dave reached round and adjusted the position of his cock until the head was engaged just inside the lips of her cunt. With the scene set, my wife looked into my eyes and said with cruel satisfaction, “Alan my love. In the twenty-two years that I have known you, yours is the only cock that has ever been inside my twat. Watch this and reflect on the error of your ways.” Then with her gaze never wavering from mine, she slowly lowered herself to let his cock move inch by inch into her welcoming depths.



That symbolic penetration was the worst moment, (I actually held my breath until his big penis was fully embedded inside her) but the continuing spectacle maintained torment as his shaft kept reappearing glistening with her internal juices as she raised and lowered her body. I felt a bitter sense of injustice. I had enjoyed with Dave what could not be replicated within the marriage and in that sense my infidelity was less meaningful as this. Had Helen instead chosen to take revenge by having sex with another woman, that would have been more apt and I could have watched with far less pain than this. To be honest, I suspect that I would have viewed such a situation with a great deal of pleasure.



That position was very tiring even though Dave was assisting with hands underneath her buttocks, so after a time she reversed, still straddling his lap but facing him. This actually gave me a far better view of his cock disappearing inside her cunt but she no longer had the pleasure of watching my reaction as she fucked him. My own prick was agonisingly stiff but still I dare not lay a soothing hand upon it – had I been allowed to even release it from the confines of my pants, I felt that would bring some relief. I have read accounts by husbands about the pain of watching their wives being fucked by other men, (without ever thinking it would happen to me), and yet I think that my position was even worse. I had the distress of watching violation of the intimate territory that had been exclusively mine – but at the same time I still suffered cravings for the cock that was affecting my humiliation.



I think that the lack of control got to Dave because he wrapped his arms round Helen and twisted round so that she was underneath him on the bed. From my point of view what followed was even worse. Before, in both positions with her on his lap, it had been demonstration sex. Granted his dick was moving inside her but it was stilted, artificial. This was the real thing. Now she was really being shagged. He was plunging in, no holds barred, both of them gasping and totally oblivious of me. I could almost feel her body reacting to him. I watched Helen’s arms clutch convulsively round him and I heard the low moan emanating from her throat. Long minutes before it happened, I knew that he was going to make her cum.



I waited for it praying that it would not happen. A malevolent God reversed my plea and gave her an orgasm of greater magnitude than anything I might have imagined. This was my ultimate defeat – or so I thought. The nadir came a few moments later when, her arms still clasped around him and nails digging into his back, she breathed, “Oh Dave – I have never been fucked as good as that.” Those words were no longer revenge, no longer said for effect to punish me further – I knew that she had spoken involuntarily from the depths of the experience.



They continued screwing and Helen had another two minor climaxes, like after shocks following a major earthquake. Shortly after the last, Dave shot what I knew would be copious amounts of semen in the direction of her womb. They separated and lay for a while side by side until my wife slowly sat up and looked over at me. Some of her confidence had gone as she was shocked by the violence of her body’s reaction to him. Then, making an effort, she opened her legs allowing me to see the white stuff starting to ooze out of her. “Fancy a bit of tongue work?” she taunted.



I was past humiliation and at that moment there was nothing that I wanted more in the world. As if on a piece of string I started moving out of the chair until she laughed and said, “Think again my love. You are still in purdah or the equivalent. There is one hell of a lot that you still have to expiate – remember, you were pleasured by this lovely man for nearly a week so I have a lot of catching up to do before the slate is clean.”



Bitterly disappointed I sat back in the chair. After all that I had endured, it was this that caused the tears to start trickling down my face. They seemed to melt my wife’s heart of stone. “This can’t be a lot of fun for you sweetheart,” she said. “Darling Dave seems to have got have got the hang of what is required of him and can manage without an audience to cheer him on. Why don’t you take a break and pop down to the bar for a couple of hours.”



Despite the torment of watching I was about to decline the offer until realising from the expression on Helen’s face that this was an order and not a suggestion. I stood up slowly and started to trudge reluctantly towards the door, still unable to drag my eyes away from the tableau on the bed. I had half opened the door when she called out “Wait,” and for a moment my heart leapt thinking that the had relented. It was a foolish hope. “While you are out, you might as well take Dave’s stuff up to his room for him,” she smiled sweetly. “You can come back in two hours but not a minute sooner. Oh yes, while you are standing there, be a love and hang the ‘Do not disturb’ sign outside the door.”



This was real humiliation – relegated to the role of porter for the man who was poking my wife. The task was not made any easier by the fact that I had to both identify myself and think up a convincing reason why Dave was unable to look after the luggage himself. I cringed to think of the snickers that my telling the truth would have provoked. In Dave’s room I dropped his bag heavily, sincerely hoping that it contained something fragile. I hated being in that empty room but was forced to linger there long enough to regain control of my emotions. The ache in my heart was only exceeded the one in my groin. It was in my power to something about the last but by now I was totally demoralised. I had lost my nerve. I felt it inevitable that Helen would know if I masturbated and could not face the thought of the fresh punishment that this might provoke.



In the bar I drank enough to ease the pain but had to deny myself the solace of complete inebriation because I had to remain enough in control to walk back into that bedroom at the end of my ordeal. I have never known two hours take so long to pass and during every living minute my mind was peopled with images of what was occurring in the bedroom. At long last I was able to return upstairs. I walked up the staircase with deliberation but had to pause outside the room door to control the attack of trembling that afflicted my legs. At this last second I checked my watch to ensure that I had not mistakenly come back to soon. With everything in order I took a deep breath and stepped into the room without knocking.



They were both still lying on the bed and Helen was smoking. This in itself was a disappointment. I had thought that they might both be dressed or if not that Dave would be ready to return to his own room. In the bar I had envisaged slipping into bed beside my wife, not for sex but for the acknowledgement that I had expiated my guilt. But there was no forgiving tone in my wife’s voice as she said, “You have surprised me – I honestly didn’t think you had the self control to stay away until now.”



I didn’t know what to do. I hadn’t expected them to be still in bed together and was at a loss to know what was expected of me. Helen solved the problem by waving me back to my chair. “Dave wants to fuck me the way that he fucked you and I’ve said that he can,” she explained. “He wanted to start to start straight away but I know it’s something that you would not want to miss, so I made him wait until you got back. In future you can’t ever accuse me of not considering your feelings.”



This was worse than even my most terrible nightmare. You may find it hard to believe but during the score of years that we had been married, I had never screwed Helen that way.



Ironic though it seems now I had always been slightly homophobic – in retrospect this possibly explained my unrealised inherent leanings that way. The bottom line was that as anal fucking was what queers did, I had convinced myself that it had to be nasty with no place in a decent marriage. Up until now my punishment had been to painfully watch Dave doing to Helen what I had already done many times (with the suspicion that he did it better adding only marginally to the torment). But now he was about to break new ground – his penis was going to venture where mine had never been and that thought was intolerable. Would that I could have died rather than watch – or even find the ability to force my eyes away. Riding above all other emotions was one of jealousy – the feeling that the pleasure that my wife was about to enjoy rightfully belonged to me – I know that my arse ached at the memory of the sensations that she was going to discover.



As if by prior agreement they did it as a set piece and could easily have been performing for a ‘Teach yourself buggery’ educational video. Helen got on all fours carefully angled to give me the perfect view and when satisfied with her position she actually turned her head, grinned at me and then wiggled her buttocks enticingly as encouragement for him to begin. It seemed to be in slow motion. Dave carefully lined his ramrod stiff prick touching her puckered rosebud and then at the last moment, as I gritted my teeth in anticipation, he too could not resist the temptation to look triumphantly over his shoulder to witness my reaction.



He entered her slowly but this still caused Helen to wince and gasp at the unexpected level of pain. For a few hopeful moments I hoped that she was going to ask him to stop but my wife is made of sterner stuff. I reckon that for the first three minutes Helen believed this to be an ordeal that she had to endure but then everything changed and her moaned “Oh Yes” signalled the start of my suffering. He drove her crazy. She was delirious – almost out of her mind with pleasure and throughout, as previously mentioned, my mental pain was on two distinct levels. It was impossible to tell when one orgasm ended and the next one began. Without a shadow of doubt, Dave was taking her to sexual peaks in comparison to which, my best efforts had always left her somewhere in the foothills. I honestly believed that I was witnessing the end of my marriage for why should she ever be satisfied with me after an experience like this.



At the end they collapsed together, still connected and both breathing heavily. It was several minutes before he withdrew and allowed Helen to roll over to face me with a dreamy expression on her face. For the first time since this whole thing began I saw kindness in her eyes and hoped that this grand finale was the end of my punishment. “This can’t be very nice for you my love – why don’t you go and kip down in Dave’s room for the night. I want some more of that and plenty of the other before I’m through.”



Swallowing my disappointment, I muttered ,”I’ll stay.”



“You’ve already seen it all and anyway, we will be getting under the covers so there will be nothing for you to watch,” she insisted.



“I don’t care.”



“Go,” she ordered with the coldness back in her voice. “If you must know I want to say things to my lover that I don’t want you to hear.” Totally defeated I trudged head down towards the door only to hear her final instructions before I could exit the room, “Remember to keep your filthy hands away from your dick and come back here at eight o’clock tomorrow morning but not before.”



Perhaps the mind can only stand so much. I had anticipated a long sleepless night with my mind tormented by what I had seen and the activity still occurring but strangely I fell asleep the moment that my head touched the pillow. I woke at seven the next morning. A leisurely wash and shave and taking my time getting dressed only took the time to seven-thirty. Incapable of staying away for another half hour I returned to my room. The bed was a mess with Dave still lying on it with his head and torso under the duvet but with his lower quarters exposed. His cock was limp but the moisture upon it showed that Helen had recently sucked him off. Our bag was packed and my wife sat fully dressed putting the finishing touches to her make-up.

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