By the time I was nineteen years of age I was married to a very attractive woman who was two years older than me. It didn’t take long before I began to realize that I had possibly made one of the biggest mistakes in my life. I eventually found that she lacked much in the imaginative department when we engaged in sexual activity. My wife’s philosophy was that it was never appropriate to indulge in sexual activity unless it was in complete darkness. Experimenting with other variations apart from the standard missionary position was deemed by her to be perverted. As you could imagine, oral sex was absolute taboo. Although I did not agree with her prudish ways, I respected them just to keep the peace. It was better than getting no sexual gratification at all, which incidentally was the other alternative.



After just over year of seemingly happy matrimony, sex became completely out of the question as far as my wife was concerned. It didn’t help matters at all when she frequently paraded around the house wearing nothing but a skimpy pair of panties. Her constant teasing eventually drove me to masturbation and before long I found that it was to be my only release. If I was alone at home when my wife was at work, I would often lock the doors and jerk myself to climax. It wasn’t long before I found myself buying pornographic magazines from the local adult shop on a weekly basis. Unfortunately I neglected to foresee the ramifications should my wife ever find out about my growing obsession. One day while I was at work she was cleaning the house and she found those magazines. When I returned home she confronted me with the evidence and went absolutely ballistic.



After that altercation she implied that I should see a psychiatrist in an attempt to curve my perversions. I had no intent of agreeing to her ridiculous suggestion. The worst thing about it was that much to my embarrassment, she always chose to bring the subject up when we were in the company of other people. This often provoked frequent heated arguing when we were together alone. It was her firm belief that I had brought it all upon myself and that she was not responsible for my growing insecurity. Eventually there was nobody at all among our friends who she had not told about the incident. No thanks to her persistence she took our relationship to the brink of destruction when she not only informed the people that I worked with; she told my parents as well. That was the last straw and I subsequently quit my job and became reclusive.



My self esteem had fallen to an all time low as we grew further apart. I wrongly assumed that things between us would improve over time, but I was kidding myself. Eventually I began to collect pornographic magazines again and gradually became a chronic masturbator. This time I had a more devious approach to hiding the magazines. I would never hide them for very long in the same place and my wife never found them ever again. One day I was searching for another secure place to hide those magazines when I found a small green travel bag at the bottom of the linen closet. Oddly enough, it was obscured by some old linen bed sheets. I had never seen that bag before, so I curiously pulled it out and opened it.



Much to my dismay, packed in the inside pocket of the bag was a flesh-colored strap-on dildo and a bottle of lubricant wrapped in a small towel. I closely examined the thick long sex toy for a while before putting it back in the closet exactly how I had found it. I was instantly convinced that my wife was indulging in a secretive lesbian affair. It made no sense to me at all because she had always given me the impression that she was a homophobe. I thought that it was quite possible that her irrational nature may have invoked a double standard in her train of thought. Perhaps her homophobia applied to males only; and knowing what she was like I assumed this was the case. I was shattered at the thought of my wife having an affair. It was certainly not something that I would have considered doing because regardless of how she had treated me in the past, it was against my morals.



I sat down and tried to deduct who her lesbian lover might be but nobody instantly came to mind. For some strange reason I just had to know who it was. The only time that she went out was when she went to work. It soon occurred to me that once a month she was randomly consistent in getting home unusually late. It was impossible to anticipate when her next rendezvous would be and so I began to monitor the green bag in the bottom of the linen closet. I had checked the closet daily after she had gone to work for almost three months to no avail, but one day when I looked it was not there. That very afternoon I hired a car and drove to the hospital where she worked. I waited patiently not far from the entrance to the employee’s car park for her shift to finish. Sure enough I eventually saw my wife’s car pull out of the driveway and I covertly followed her. She drove to a motel not far from the hospital. Removing the green bag from her car, she went to a door and knocked upon it. The door opened but I could not see who was inside.



I waited for almost two hours in hope that I might get a glimpse of her lover but it wasn’t to be. Driving at law-breaking speed, I returned the rental car and arrived home just five minutes before my wife. My heart sank as I sat in a chair contemplating my situation. To make matters even worse there were no visual signs of guilt upon my wife’s face when she walked in the door. I wanted to confront her but I didn’t wish to provoke another argument. I was still in denial and I wanted more proof that she was up to no good. That night I devised a plan that would enable me to catch her in the act. I gave her fair warning that I was planning to go away fishing for the approaching October long weekend. Her facial expression gave her away in an instant. She had a mischievous look in her eyes as she informed me that she didn’t have a problem with my fishing trip at all. There was a time that she would object to me going to the shop for five minutes to buy cigarettes.



Finally the day arrived when I was to leave for my “so-called” three-day fishing expedition. I was certain that she had taken the bait because she was very anxious to see me go. I prolonged my departure and set out just after midday on the Saturday afternoon. Driving aimlessly around town for the rest of the day, I was constantly thinking about the scenario that I might encounter when I “unexpectedly” arrived home ahead of schedule later that evening. It was just going on dark when I parked my car down the street about three hundred meters from my house on the opposite side of the road. Patiently I waited.



At about 9:00pm a car drove past, slowed down and pulled into my driveway. From a distance I saw two silhouetted figures get out of the car and go to the side entrance of the house. I waited down the street for about twenty minutes before getting out of my car. Cautiously I walked towards the house to investigate. I quietly entered the yard and crept along the driveway to the back of the house. Standing concealed in the dark shadows at the back of the house I listened intently for the slightest hint of conversation. I could not hear any voices from my vantage point apart from the feint irregular sounds of laughter coming from somewhere inside the building. I assumed that everyone must have been at the other end of the house in the lounge room, so I decided to make my way back along the driveway for a better listening station.



I stealthily made my way back to the front yard, crouching beneath the lounge room window. The conversation emanating from inside was still feint, but I could hear a lot more than before. It soon became apparent that my wife was entertaining two other unknown women. I sat beneath the closed window for almost three hours, straining my ears to understand what they were talking about. They were drinking wine and occasionally laughing loudly, evidently becoming very intoxicated. The voices inside then seemed to dissipate considerably until I could hardly hear them at all. I assumed that they may have moved to the bedroom, so I stealthily relocated my position. As I approached the bedroom window I noticed that the light had been switched on since my arrival. I crouched beneath the window and listened intently. Sure enough, it was not long before I could hear the feint distinct sounds of a woman moaning with pleasure.



I assumed that it was not my wife because she was not known to be vocal during sex. After a while I could hear the occasional familiar sound of the bed head knocking against the wall inside. My curiosity was driving me crazy. I had been listening by the window for at least twenty minutes when I decided that it was time to move in. I had absolutely no idea what my reaction would be when I reached the moment of truth. As I made my way around to the rear of the house I contemplated on backing out of my plan. When I reached the back porch I sat uneasily on the steps staring blankly at the closed door. Within five minutes I was attracted to it as if by magnetism. Slowly my hand reached out and proceeded to quietly unlock it. As I crept along the hallway the noise from the bedroom became increasingly audible.



When I reached the bedroom door it was slightly ajar. I peered in from the hallway towards the dressing table mirror at the foot of the bed. In the reflection I could see three naked women. I had never seen anything like that in real life before and at that point, my cock instantly jumped to full attention. Watching and listening carefully, I recognized my wife in an instant. She was kneeling with her face buried between the thighs of a fair skinned slim woman who was lying spread-eagled at the head of the bed. Another much larger built woman had her tongue planted deep between my wife’s pale exposed buttocks. I watched them all writhing about for the best part of thirty minutes as I quietly stood just beyond the doorway fondling my cock through my jeans. I was really trying to gain enough courage to walk into the room on the pretence that I may have been invited to join them but I could not bring myself to do it. The way things were between my wife and I suggested that it was not a very good idea to do that.



My thoughts were interrupted when the larger of the two strangers suddenly got up off the bed and walked towards the dressing table. I froze instantly, thinking that she was going to open the door and walk out into the hallway where I was standing. To my relief she paused at great length by the mirror and seemed to remain there for an eternity. I knew that she could have walked into view at any given moment, but my curiosity had anchored my feet firmly where I stood. Cautiously I slowly moved my head forward just enough to see what she was doing. Standing with her back to the mirror she was carefully applying lubricant to the surrogate penis which she had attached to her pelvis. It was then that I realized that she was preparing to take my wife from behind.



I watched her climb back on the bed and crawl in behind my wife, holding a bottle of lubricant in her hand. She pushed on my wife’s bare bottom, coaxing her to move forward until she was straddling the woman beneath her. She then squeezed a generous portion of lubricant on to her hand and proceeded to spread it evenly upon the exposed vulva before her. She gradually worked the slippery fluid into my wife’s vagina until four of her long extended fingers had slipped in with ease. As she began to rotate her hand my wife lowered her head and locked lips with the slim woman beneath her in a passionate embrace. The reflection of the scene in the mirror was surreal. Never in a million years would I have believed that my prudish wife would agree to participate in a scenario such as that.



My view became obscured when the woman behind my wife rose to her knees and began to inch her body forward. It was obvious that she was ready to penetrate the glistening vagina before her. As she slowly thrust her pelvis forward I heard my wife let out a long muffled moan. Placing her hands upon my wife’s hips, she appeared to pull my wife back until the entire length of plastic cock was planted hard inside. She paused for a moment and then began to thrust the phallus back and forth with slow deliberate short strokes. Although her body mass was much larger than my wife’s petite figure, she was still reasonably attractive. She had shortly cropped black hair and appeared to be in her mid to late forties. I studied her athletic torso, my eyes roaming downward from her broad shoulders to her muscular legs. Her partially exposed vulva bulged between her slightly parted thighs; the elongated lips of her inner labia protruding from within.



Her vaginal assault gradually increased in tempo, her pelvis slapping loudly against my wife’s pale white buttocks. I looked on in awe as she forced her thick strap on cock rapidly into my wife’s pussy with long aggressive strokes. Just as I thought I had seen it all, she suddenly stopped and stood up on the bed. Straddling the vulnerable naked receptive bottom, she began to squat down until the bulbous head of the phallus was nestled hard against my wife’s anal opening. Pushing down on the entire length of artificial cock, it slowly disappeared with ease into the tight orifice until it could go no further. My wife began to manipulate her own swollen vulva with her slender fingers as the bulky woman above her began to assertively thrust her cock back and forth with ease. I instantly recognized the familiar quiet sounds of my wife’s short panting as she approached climax. She seemed to be pushing her rear upward to meet her aggressor’s constant deliberate pounding.



My wife let out an ear piercing squeal as she began to climax violently. Her entire body began to shudder with involuntary motion. The woman beneath her wrapped her arms tightly around my wife’s torso holding her firmly in place; the thrusting phallus gradually coming to a halt. The three naked women remained absolutely motionless and silent for a short while; and then suddenly the woman above withdrew the fat phallus from my wife’s gaping anus. As the bulbous head of the thick plastic cock popped out, my wife was hit by one last violent convulsion. The cheeks of her bottom resembled the consistency of jelly as it wobbled uncontrollably for the best part of ten seconds. Finally they all lay together and engaged in a long erotic passionate embrace. As I watched them I was overcome by a strange sensation of uneasy guilt. I turned away dejectedly and crept down the hallway towards the back door.



I sat on the porch outside for a while trying to comprehend what I had just witnessed. My initial plan had severely backfired due to my own perverted curiosity and it was I who oddly felt that I had compromised my marriage. I was having second thoughts about how to deal with my wife’s infidelity. I didn’t really mind that she was apparently infatuated with other women; in fact I was quite turned on by it all. Had the affair been with two men, I would most likely have reacted much differently. The thing that cut me the most was that she had chosen to conceal the affair from me, and that alone implied that there was absolutely no trust on her part regarding our relationship. I had to wonder how long I had been deceived by her and the more I thought about it, the more I felt like a complete idiot. I dearly loved that woman, but through my own youthful blindness I had failed to recognize that the feeling was not mutual.



My mind constantly replayed the scenario that I had witnessed in the bedroom and it invoked a dreadful insecurity from within. I began to convince myself that the entire situation had been initiated due to my own sexual inadequacy. I had never been able to make love to my wife in such a way that I could consider that she had actually enjoyed it. Watching her in bed with those unknown strangers portrayed her as someone who I did not know at all. I could never have competed sexually with those women. They obviously knew a lot more about my wife than I and that was evident by the way she had tightly clenched her toes during her final orgasm. That alone was enough to confirm to me the reason why she had no longer been willing to engage in sexual activities with me. I had made love to her many times in the past, but until that day never had I seen her toes curl with unbridled pleasure.



My thoughts became directed at the women involved in the affair. I still had absolutely no idea who they were or where my wife had met them. It was relatively unimportant, but I could not stop thinking about it. I assumed that at least one of those women was employed at the hospital where my wife worked. That would certainly have explained how they all became acquainted. I also suspected that the sexual relationship had been instigated by those women and not my wife. It was highly unlikely that my wife would have delved into such a sexually explicit relationship on her own accord. She was way too straight to do anything like that. I concluded that those women were directly responsible for the misery of my failing marriage. For that reason alone I despised them. I pondered the options presented to me with irrational thoughts racing through my mind. I contemplated letting it all go by the wayside in hope that the situation would improve. Letting my wife continue with her devious charade would have only given her the impression that I truly was a complete fool. My pride would not allow me to degrade myself in such a way. I considered leaving the love of my life and never returning, but that would have left me with absolutely no resolve. The final option was to go back inside and confront my wife; a task which I really wanted to avoid because it would most likely lead to another ugly altercation. With much deliberation I decided that I had to confront her to protect my sanity. It had to be done in such a way that I did not appear to be the aggressor. I stared vacantly at the doorway trying to conjure up enough courage to go through with it. It was time for me to spoil the party. Loudly opening the door I walked inside, slamming it shut behind me. I began to walk along the hallway towards the bedroom and shouted, “It’s just me, I’m home!”



Suddenly I could hear a panicked commotion coming from within the bedroom and the door was quickly slammed shut. I approached the closed door and listened for a moment before pushing it wide open. I gazed into the room mimicking absolute shock and embarrassment. All three women were frantically trying to get dressed. The unidentified women were trying to hide behind the bed as they hopelessly struggled to cover themselves. The glistening strap on phallus had been carelessly discarded in plain view on the bed. The familiar green bag was on the floor near the window. The look of shear embarrassment on those women’s faces was priceless; their faces flushed to a bright shade of red. My wife tried to block my entry to the room by standing directly in front of me wearing nothing more than a pair of high-cut red lace panties. She caught me by complete surprise when she forcefully pushed me back into the hallway. Without uttering a single a word she slammed the door shut in my face.



At that point, I went into the lounge room to watch television. I could sense that my wife was far from impressed by my unexpected appearance. My best defense was to play the fool that she believed I was; hopefully giving her the impression that I had absolutely no idea of what was going on. After the women had gone, my wife came into the room and began screaming at me. Apparently I had no right to come home without calling first. I don’t think that she realized how incriminating her verbal abuse actually sounded. She then implied that she and her friends were just trying on clothes, but little did she know that I knew otherwise. She had inadvertently told me everything that I wanted to know apart from the identity of her lesbian lovers. The only thing that I did not receive was an admission of guilt and that proved to be the most disappointing of thing of all. From that moment I realized that our marriage was damned for all time.

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