We were both young, recently married and attending different colleges. We shared the car, both being able to drive. Sometimes I took it; sometimes Pam did, usually when we knew I could get a lift home.
One evening Pam was a little later in than expected. “Oh, a student meeting. You know how it goes and Bike is so involved in student politics you get caught up in it.”
“Bike?”
“We call him that. He cycles everywhere.”
We followed our usual routine, bit of study, bed, but no sex. She was tired.
A week later Pam was later than before. She came in at 9pm, pleased with herself and obviously excited. After a bit of small talk about another student meeting she’d been to she murmured, “I am bad.”
“Are you?” I was washing the dishes.
“Yes. I kissed Bike.”
I swallowed. “Oh!”
“Well, it’s only natural. You get involved; we’re sitting close, and, well, when everyone left it seemed natural.”
I said nothing, nearly breaking a plate because my hands were trembling so much.
“Are you mad?”
I shook my head. “No. I think I understand.”
“It was nothing else. Just a kiss.”
So, study, cuddle, bed. Pam was more alive than usual, more excited and when I started to caress her she responded with enthusiasm. She was still tight when I entered her but quickly loosened up. That helped me last longer. It was one of our better sessions. Afterwards I lay back, temporarily spent. She grinned at me. “I think any girl can deal with two blokes any time. More stamina.”
“You’d like that?” I murmured the question.
She looked at me and didn’t answer immediately. There was no need. I remembered our first week together. We’d made love four or five times a day.
Obviously she remembered it, too, for she said, quietly, “What’s the difference between many times with you and some of them with someone else?”
“You’re my wife!”
“Yes, but physically if I can have sex with you five times a day---”
“We don’t.”
“But we did. So what’s the difference? A girl could do it with several different men. Easily.”
“Is that a real wish, or fantasy?”
“What do you think?”
A challenge, which I could not win, whatever I replied. If I’d said it was a fantasy she could agree happily but admit nothing. If I said it was her wish she could slap my face, agree simply to wind me up, or agree because it was true. I wasn’t at all sure and it did nothing to ease my anxiety.
A few days went past. There was another student meeting and this time she came home nearer ten o’clock than nine.
“I’ve been bad again.”
“Oh. Like last time?”
“I gave him a lift to his place in the car.”
Shaking a little I asked, “The meeting went on a bit longer then?”
“Oh no. We were out of there by 7.30.”
Hmmm. Ten minutes to his flat, twenty back to here, leaves two hours. “Lots to talk about, eh?”
“Oh yes. It is exciting and we’ve huge plans to challenge the teaching staff.” She gave some details. “So it just happened. He kissed me.”
I put my arm round her. “You were okay with that?”
“Oh, yes. It was great.” She gave me a hug. Our lips met. Now, believe it or not all our kissing had been lips to lips. Nothing more, even though we’d been married for months and obviously we are not virgins. This kiss was different. She opened her mouth and thrust her tongue in. God, it was exciting. In five minutes we were in bed, rutting like the teenagers we were. It was good sex but I wasn’t very sure there was much love in it.
Afterwards I said, “Don’t let the Bike thing go too far. It could wreck us.”
“I don’t see why. You like it.”
Well, there was the rub. I hated it, but I was also turned on. Part of me wanted to be the macho man and tell her to cut it out. We’re married. Part of me wanted to know more. After all, his kiss already had added an extra dimension to our lives. But it had also introduced an element of tension. It did not occur to me why she was so open. Without her confessions there was little chance I’d ever know about her fun and games. Later, I wondered. Was it a boast? Did she know I got turned on, as well as upset? Was that her intention? Or did she think by telling me it made everything ok?
I hoped it would all end there but of course, it didn’t. One evening she didn’t come home until 11pm, flushed yet wary. At first she wouldn’t kiss me.
“A very long meeting.”
“A bit,” she said, in a low tone.
“You’ve been playing. In the car?”
She shook her head.
“His place?”
She shook her head again. “In the common room, after everyone else had gone.”
This time I was having to prise out the details, which I hated but I had to know. I could go at it bull in the china shop, or try gentle probing. Part of me wanted to kick her out and part of me wanted her to have gone on. I was learning a lot about myself, let alone about her.
I tried the gentle approach.
“You kissed a bit more, eh?”
She nodded.
“For two hours?”
No reply.
“Did he touch you anywhere? Your breasts?” This questioning was sick yet what other option had I, except boot her out.
“Oh yes,” she breathed.
I was clenching my fists to try to control the trembling. She sat on her hands, still flushed, and fighting some internal battle of her own.
“Your blouse is a bit crooked.”
“Is it? We had to get out in a hurry when they came to lock up.” I straightened it now.
She has naturally large nipples which get hard and longer when she’s aroused. My hand brushed her left breast. Her bra was missing. That nipple was rigid. “How far did he go?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said.
“But I’ve got to know. Your reticence just makes it worse. We can work something out. I understand you got excited. I’m not condemning you for that. But... ” I stopped.
“I thought you knew.”
“Knew what? He kissed more than your lips?”
“Of course. I wanted him to.”
“Your breasts?”
She nodded. “It wasn’t the first time.”
Well, it should have been obvious but until a few moments ago it hadn’t been. Now I had a vision of her naked to the waist and Bike’s mouth all over her there. Her neck, her breasts, her nipples; in my mind’s eye I could hear and see her moaning with desire; god, that was horrible to think about. Worse, it was arousing. And that made me want to hear they’d gone further. How sick was that?
She looked up at me. “You’re trembling.”
It was my turn to nod.
“You like hearing about it.”
“No, not really. It’s very upsetting. I’m trying to be open and non judgemental.”
“That’s crap.”
“No, not crap. Very confusing. Part of me hates it and part of me, well...”
“I know. You’re sticking out.”
“I can’t help it.”
“Neither can I,” she said, firmly.
“You’re not sticking out!” It was meant as a joke, but my eyes dropped to her breasts. Oh yes she was.
“You want more, don’t you?” I said, after a moment.
“Oh yes.”
“Did you, did he...?”
“There wasn’t much time. We got chucked out so we sat in the car.” She giggled. “I don’t know what they thought. He had my bra in his hand.”
God, I loved her and hated her then. And him. I’d like to pull off his balls.
She read my mind. “You want to cut him off. Crush his balls.”
“Part of me does. Er, did you?”
“What?”
“Touch him there.”
“God no. He was too busy exploring me.”
That was like a kick in the crotch.
“We didn’t do much else. It’s not very comfortable in the car.”
“But you want to.”
“When he stroked my thigh...” and her inhibitions took over. After a moment she added, “I told him he couldn’t. Time of the month.”
Which meant he’d been seeking; I felt sicker than ever. “Did he stop?”
“Not straight away.” There was the hint of a smile on her lips.
A moment or two earlier I’d felt like I’d been kicked in the crotch. Now that area of me was burning.
She giggled again. “His finger nail was broken. It got caught on the material. I told you I need a new pair.”
Her briefs were a bit worn. I’d given her cash to get some more. Evidently she hadn’t yet.
It wasn’t the time of the month, of course. “There’s not a lot more to do, is there?”
She shook her head. For a wild moment I thought they’d actually fucked. My gorge rose, my heart thumped. Then she said, “It’s so teasing. He wanted to, I wanted to. He stroked me a lot and asked me why I’d lied about my period. I told him I didn’t lie. He pulled away and looked at his fingers. ‘I don’t think so, Pam.’ He looked at me and then very deliberately slid his hand up my leg again. ‘Not in the car,’ I said. But god, his stroking was good.”
“He touched you there?” I groaned now.
“I just told you. He stopped when I said it was the wrong time, too messy. Then he gave me the lie,” she grinned, “And the finger. I couldn’t stop myself. It was so smooth, so exciting. He wanted to kiss my skin and I wanted that, too, so I didn’t stop him when he pulled off my pants off.”
“He kissed you there!” God, I felt sick, and had a raging hard on.
“I nearly gave in, especially when his lips joined his fingers.” She shuddered in memory, her eyes closed. “I stopped him when he fiddled for his zip. ‘Not in the car, in the car park. We can do better than that.’ She smiled. ‘He tried, though, for some time. With his fingers. It didn’t do a lot to cool me down. He found that place you sometimes do.” She shut her eyes again, and sighed. “That was fantastic. If he’d kept on I don’t think I’d have stopped him. Instead he started to unzip again and I said ‘No.’”
“Really?”
“Oh yes.”
“I’d have done it, in your shoes.”
“No doubt. But you’re a man.”
That night sex was a huge release, for both of us. My erection was huge, her need was great, but she was tight, as usual. It took a bit to get in. Afterwards we didn’t talk, just lay there, more or less satisfied. But it didn’t survive the morning. She was quiet, determined and the tension was back.
“I need the car today,” I said.
She nodded. “Ok. See you tonight.”
She didn’t come in until gone midnight, and then in a taxi. Neither of us broached the subject. Midnight, after all spoke volumes. In bed she said, “This is difficult for me.”
“Me too.”
“Yes. That’s part of the problem. Having to tell you.”
“You don’t have to tell me anything. But unless we are open, well, it’s not very promising for the future. I’ll never know what you’re up to.”
“You think I screw around?”
“No, I don’t. But you want him.”
“Yes,” said very softly. “Oh, yes.”
“Have you? It’s after midnight. Plenty of time.”
“Well, yes and no.”
I swallowed. “We have to be open about this,” I repeated. My heart was thumping, my erection painful, my emotions of love and caring tangled up with lust.
She lay there, eyes closed, stretched out, arms at her side. I wanted to hold her but held back, fearing rejection, desperate to know the truth. Would I want her if he’d been in her so recently? My head and my emotions, some of them anyway, said no. My lust and my body said yes. I stroked her side, gently, pausing below her breast.
At last she whispered, “If I told you Bike and I---”
“Fucked?”
She wrinkled her nose. “That’s a horrible word.”
“Says it all, though.”
“You might think that.”
“Well, did you?”
“If I tell you,” she says, and my heart screams into my throat. Told had become Tell, and that implies...
These were some of the most intense moments of my life. I’m lying there, naked, hugely aroused, nerves screaming, with a huge effort only stopping myself from plunging into her whether she wanted to or not. Instead I ran my hand over her breast, fondling her nipple. It was rock hard. She gasped when I pinched it. “Do that again.” I did. “Gently.”
For several minutes I played with her breasts, teasing her nipples through he nightdress, kissing her neck, her shoulders. She wriggled about in the bed a bit, enjoying the attention I was giving her, her breathing less even, a flush beginning in her cheeks.
Finally, as I eased the nightdress down to uncover her breasts she said, “We found a park bench. It was very dark.”
“You didn’t risk the room in college again.”
“Oh yes, of course. No-one was about; they never are until lock up time.” She paused. “We got pretty heated.” She giggled. “I bought a new pair this morning, wanting to show him.” She giggled again. “He took them off.”
I gulped and managed, “That was risky.”
“Oh no. I still had my dress on.” It was one of those slinky, tight fitting numbers, cut only just below the neck with a zip at the back. “He’d got my bra in one pocket and my pants in the other.” That meant he’d unzipped her to the waist. There was no other way to free her bra. She smiled. “We couldn’t go further. He’d no more pockets. Anyway, I could cover myself quickly enough if someone came along.”
I kissed her breasts and ran a tongue over her gorgeous nipples. “Did they?”
“Not for a while.” She turned over on to her stomach. “Have a look at my back. It feels a bit sore.”
I slid her nightdress up above her waist. “There’s a red line,” I touched her skin, “Just above here.”
“I thought so. That was the edge of the bloody table.”
What more did my sick imagination need. She’d been naked to the waist, bent back over that table, at least some of the time, so that meant he had to be in front of her, pushing up the hem, stroking, probing, and she was naked under the dress. “I told him it was uncomfortable and he said his knees hurt. The floor is hard.”
Of course that did nothing to calm me down, rather the reverse. I ached as I imagined him kneeling between her parted legs, sliding his palms along her thighs, stroking her sex, parting those lips. She confirmed this when she said, “He found the place again. With his tongue.” The memory caused her to shiver. “More,” she murmured. “More.” She could have been saying it to him, or to me. To judge by that red weal across her back he’d given her more, a lot me. I’ve found it is quite difficult to last long enough to bring her to orgasm; I can only remember one such time. But, given her circumstances, given her need, given the time they must have spent like that, maybe... “Did he, did you...?”
“I wish we had but it was too risky. If we heard someone I could cover myself quickly enough before they opened the door. He wanted to do it there and then but I wouldn’t let him take off his trousers. Instead I made him do more of that fabulous stroking.” She sighed. “I quite lost myself in that, until,” she hesitated. “I think his fingers gave me an orgasm.”
I was stroking her bottom, sliding my hand round her hips. She sighed. “We had to go outside. We couldn’t leave it there. That’s when we found the park bench.”
“Oh.” I swallowed heavily, reaching her sex.
“You won’t believe me,” she said. “That bench was cold and the slats uncomfortable. He took off his shirt and put it under me. Well, I didn’t want to mess up my dress and I still had it on, just; bunched around my waist. If he’d jumped me then I would’ve done it, despite being uncomfortable. It’s not what I wanted. I want a bed, like this.” She sighed, turning on to her back. “He teased me, kissing me everywhere and then when I undid his belt and got him uncovered someone came by. I could see a girl, just a few yards away. I know her and she’d seen us, and stopped to watch.”
I grinned sickly. “I hope you put on a good show!”
“We did not!” she exclaimed. She gave a low laugh, shifting restlessly, her legs parting a little. I eased my own finger in, seeking her clit. Somehow in my twisted lust I thought if I roused her more she’d tell me more, even that they’d done it. I imagined him sinking into her. I imagined her hips thrusting up, as she was beginning to do now, and I wanted her to tell me that. “If she’d been a perfect stranger I might have gone on. But not Elaine. Christ I help her with her assignments!”
I was shaking. “So you didn’t do it after all.”
“No. But I want to, I’m going to, and I need you now. Is that so very sick?’
Sick or not, my need was huge, as well. With no preamble I parted her legs and went in, not against resistance, but like jamming a finger into soft margarine. She was so slippery it delayed my climax so that in the end I was thrusting desperately hard, the sweat pouring off of me until finally, with a huge groan I got my release.
Afterwards she echoed both our thoughts. “I needed that!”
Over the weekend I was very subdued but she was bubbling. I knew why. She had been teasing me and to an extent she and Bike had been teasing each other and now all they needed was the right situation. It was only a matter of time. It was evident from the moment she got up and had her morning shower. Normally she’d wrap a towel around herself before and after but this morning she didn’t bother. She went naked into the bathroom, I heard her singing for some of the time and she came out naked. As usual she spent time in front of the mirror but watched me with a mischievous grin when I got up and headed for the bathroom. With all the thoughts running through my mind I was semi erect and stayed that way when she came in, ostensibly to clean her teeth.
“Soap my back?” I suggested, hopefully.
“I’ll get all wet again.” But she rinsed her mouth and came into the cubicle. She soaped my back and my front and her hand wandered down to my rigid penis. “You’re being led by this,” she said, squeezing gently.
“Are you surprised?” I demanded, moving my hips.
“No. I’ve got to do this,” she told me.
“I’m not objecting.”
She meant, of course, her thing with Bike.
“Yes, I know.”
I twisted under the shower, removing the soap. She stroked my chest, then leant and planted a soft kiss right on the end of my penis. We’d talked about oral sex but she’d never done that before. She looked up. “The answer is no.”
I sighed in relief.
She ruined the moment. “Not properly. I haven’t even seen him naked.” She grinned, mischievously. “Not all of him.”
I pointed at erection. “That bit?”
She nodded, leant forward and kissed me there again.
“He teach you?” I asked, aching for her to go further.
“I didn’t need teaching.” She reached down, held me a moment, then lowered her lips. I pushed slightly at them. They parted and she let my cock slide into her mouth. For a moment she was still but then her tongue moved. It was indescribably beautiful. “That’s as far as I’ve been,” she admitted, disengaging.
She was turned on now, with me, but her mind was on him. I was convinced she’d have no inhibitions where he was concerned. All along I’d been troubled by conflicting emotions. My core belief was that regardless of what you got up to before you married, once you’d tied the knot and made those promises, you kept them; for ever. Unfortunately, this early crisis in our marriage had chucked those firm beliefs up into the air. Part of the problem was my own lust, to see her being fucked by someone else. She wouldn’t let that happen, of course, and I wasn’t going to ask. It would be so self-degrading. Then I had to recognise that people do get attracted to each other, despite all the vows in the world. The question then becomes just how far it should go. A Victorian might have suffered noble abstinence. A week or two ago I’d have expressed the same view. No way; not at all, it isn’t on. But clearly, if you’re having lustful thoughts about someone else, if you actively seek sexual attention then already you are committing adultery in your mind. Is there very much difference between those thoughts and actually doing the physical bit? And, of course, she had all but done it anyway. There was also a lingering doubt in my mind that already she had fucked him but wasn’t quite ready to admit it. Like that first tongue twisting kiss, her acquired new experience would reveal just how far she’d gone. That made me wonder; her mouth had enveloped my penis for the first time. “Do that again.”
With a quick glance up she did. She grasped my hips and placed her lips at the tip. I pressed forward, slipping a little way into her mouth. Her tongue moved more actively against me and that felt exquisite. I groaned, and moved my hips again. Out a little, in a little. My god that was gorgeous.
She broke away. “No more,” she said. “You’re leaking.” She left the bathroom. I obtained my own relief, thinking of those lips, that tongue and then I came.
The rest of the weekend was like a continual tease. She was completely relaxed, casual in her nakedness but, neither on the Saturday evening, nor on the Sunday evening, would she make love. For me that was decisive. On Monday morning I told her, “I’ve got an interview this evening so I’ll be back a bit late. I’ll need the car.” It wasn’t true and I think she knew. “Are you making things easy for me?”
“Well, I’ll be in lectures all day. I’ll eat in the refectory and definitely won’t get back here before 9pm.”
“Definitely?”
“Oh yes. It’s thirty miles away.”
“Oh.”
“But I’ll be back by 10pm, at the latest.” And then I’d challenge her.
“Why are you doing this?”
“I told you, I’ve got an interview.”
“I see.”
I could see, too. She was working it out. She wouldn’t meet my eyes. Ok. So be it. Get this out of your system and then make up your mind. I wasn’t going to be part of a perpetual threesome and I wasn’t going to do the obvious and find some compliant girl and extract a sick kind of revenge. That wasn’t right for me, or the girl concerned. No, if it came to it I’d rather be single again. Let her have her adventure, let her get well and truly and illicitly fucked and afterwards she would have to choose.
That morning in the first lecture was a disaster. I’ve no idea now of any details. Perhaps I should have; the subject was Machiavelli. But his machinations, I confess, were all Greek to me, if you’ll pardon the geographical slip and I took nothing in. My focus was elsewhere. I had a coffee in the refectory, realised any attempt at further study was a waste of time, so I went home. When I got there our usual parking place was taken and there were no others free. Oh well, not a big problem. There is waste ground round the back and there would be space there.
There was. I got out and locked the car. Our place has no back door but there is a fire escape leading to the second floor so I took that. It was quicker than going round the front. I let myself in to the little hallway, went past the even tinier bathroom and so into the attic room. I had no idea of what I intended to do next. Probably sit in front of the TV and mope.
The door to the stairs leading down to the main room was open. I reached it, paused, for I could hear voices, took another step forward and gasped aloud. Pam had just thrown herself into Bike’s arms. They hadn’t heard me and were kissing furiously. From the angle they presented I could see their saliva dribbling over their lips each time they paused for breath and then hungrily they were at it again, tongues tangling, bodies writhing. I wanted to turn away, sick at heart, but I could not. I thought, very briefly, of going down into the room below to break it up but that was no good. It would only delay the evil moment and would cause a great deal of embarrassment and hurt. So I watched, tense but silent, heart thumping and desperate to suppress the tickle in my throat that demanded I cough.
Pam had her arms around his neck and despite his wriggles would not let him go. He ventured further, caressing her breasts, and then fumbling over the buttons of her shirt. As they broke another kiss he said, Drop your arms, just for a mo,” and when she did so he eased away her shirt and dropped it on the floor. She grabbed his neck again, pulling his lips to hers and although he was clearly responding his hands were also busy. Her bra strap was unhooked, she broke away just long enough for it to be deposited by her shirt, and then they were locked together again.
I love her breasts. They’re not big but those nipples are a huge turn on. His hand stroked one of them, slipped further between their bodies and then she broke away from his lips with a gasp. I could see him gently teasing her nipple and as she stood there he brought up his other hand and caressed her unattended breast. For some moments she stood there leaning a little away to give him room, her mouth open, her eyes closed. “Oh yes. Do more. Like that,” and so on. He pinched and kissed each breast in turn and then began systematically to suck on her nipples. This guy’s no novice I thought, achingly. He knows how to work up a girl and he’s doing a very thorough job on Pam. By the way she moved, anticipating what he would do next, it was clear they’d been in this situation several times before.
“Let’s get to the bed,” he said, taking her hand. Inwardly I groaned, knowing what would follow, and hating the fact they’d be beyond my sight.
Pam shook her head. “Not in my marriage bed,” she said. She leant backwards, pulling him towards the settee. He went with her and as she sat down his hands were at her waist. I blinked, and in that short time it seemed he’d removed her skirt. Back to her hips went his hands, up lifted her body, and with a quick tug her new underwear slid down her legs, to be kicked aside. He paused a moment, staring at her naked body. “At last,” he said. “At last.”
Pam leaned forward and unfastened his trousers. If anything she was even quicker in removing his clothes than he had been in dumping hers. “At last,” she repeated, mischievously, her face flushed. God, I hated her then, and loved her humour. For a moment they just looked at each other, his eyes roving over her body, hers focussed more on his erection. She reached for him, stroking his stomach, running her hand beneath his testicles then up to his penis, grasping it firmly. He went with that, climbing onto the settee, placing his knees between her legs as she parted them and edging closer.
“Kiss me,” he said.
“Can’t reach.”
“Oh yes you can.”
She gave a wry little smile then planted a swift kiss on his tip.
“Go on, we’ve done more than that,” he urged.
So, her truths to me had been rather economical. To put it bluntly except for the brief moment in the shower she’d lied by omission and with intent to tease. Now I knew. It did nothing to ease the tension in me or to dispel that sick feeling in my stomach.
Her next actions were simple confirmation. Pam gingerly grasped his penis and leant up, again kissing his tip. Bike exerted a little pressure, I could see his buttocks flex, and she responded, allowing his penis to slide into her mouth.
“Oh, God, that’s great,” he moaned, withdrawing a little before pushing forward again. “I always love it when you do that!” Pam let him move in and out of her mouth for perhaps a minute and I could imagine the exquisite sensations she was imparting with her tongue. Then she drew back, examining her saliva on his skin and touching the bubble of precum. “Not in my mouth. Not today. We can do more of that another time. I want you in there,” and she looked pointedly downwards.
Bike didn’t protest, but he didn’t hurry either. He stroked her pubic area gently, skilfully, using one finger, then two, rhythmically moving in her and she encouraged him with gasp after gasp of pleasure. Pam’s eyes were closed and she clearly loved every illicit movement. His precum bubble grew bigger.
“Don’t tease,” she groaned. “Give it to me.”
There was a knowing and rather cruel twist to his triumphant smile. He did give it to her, half an inch at a time. Carefully he placed the tip amongst her pubic hairs and moved up a little, wincing as he did so.
“What’s the matter?” she demanded, staring.
“I’m very sensitive and your hair is coarse.”
“There’s an obvious cure to that,” she said, bluntly, shifting her body and lifting her hips.
“Sure is,” he grinned, and continued to stroke her with the tip, easing in until the head was buried, retreating a little, and moving up and down. Pam wriggled, thrusting upwards, he laughed, withdrew and holding himself described a small circle with his penis. Again he winced as he made contact with her pubic hairs but Pam was ready to counter his teasing this time. She had grasped his buttocks and now pulled him strongly towards her. An inch disappeared. She pulled harder, he laughed, a cruel, teasing laugh. Pam’s eyes showed her desire, her cheeks glowing, her tongue licking lips twisted in lust. Still he resisted.
The front door bell rang, loud and insistent. His ridge was inside her, the thin skin behind stretched tight and visible, and they froze in that attitude. Bike’s jaw had dropped. Pam was less concerned. “Ignore it, they’ll go away.” She thrust upwards and made no progress at all. “Give it to me, you bastard,” she hissed. Bike shook his head. “Wait. I can’t concentrate.” The ringing bell was certainly a distraction and went on and on. Finally, when even I began to wonder if it would ever stop, it did.
The silence was electrifying. Their heavy breathing was clearly audible, even from the top of the stairs. “Now you can concentrate,” Pam hissed. I saw her finger nails digging into his buttocks, demanding his thrust. She lifted her hips urgently. And I too wanted this thing to be completed. Go in her, give her what she wants. Get it over!
Still with that lascivious smile on his lips Bike let himself be drawn down and gradually his penis slid into her. With a groan Pam sank back, wriggling a little, still urging him on until their bellies touched. “Oh, yes,” she breathed.
Bike held that position for quite a while, deeply buried in her, no doubt leaking heavily. I was too, standing there, fully clothed, and watching. Then placing his hands either side of her hips he began slowly to withdraw.
“Oh yes,” Pam breathed, again. She snaked her legs around his back, her arms round his neck. Again he was poised, just the tip inside her, and then he plunged in, hard. She shuddered, moaned, and jerked up and back at him. From there slowly he withdrew, dragging a louder moan of delight from her. For the second time he thrust hard and deep.
“Oh yes. Oh yes. Harder, harder.”
The bell sounded again, even louder and more insistent it seemed than before. I jumped, and they froze again. The bell rang and rang.
“Ignore it,” Pam hissed. I agreed with her. She could hardly hurt me any further so she might as well get it over and take whatever thrill she could. She was urging him on, widening her thighs, lifting herself to deepen the penetration.
Bike drew back a little too far. His penis flopped out and when he tried to push back in it slid amongst her pubic hairs and then settled on her stomach. He stared in dismay.
“Ignore the fucking bell,” she almost screamed. “Get back in!”
But he didn’t. He eased backwards, his rampant penis poised over her. “I can’t concentrate.”
“Then open the window and tell whoever it is to go away. We’re fucking busy!”
Obediently Bike shuffled to the window. Luckily for him the cil was just about waist high so all the outsider would see was his naked torso from the waist up. I witnessed the lot, sick at heart to see their mingled fluids on his rigid penis. The bell still rang loudly and stridently, demanding a response.
“Well, who is it?” Pam groaned, leaning up. She looked at herself then and my eyes followed hers. There was some white stuff mingled in her pubic hair, leaked no doubt when he slipped out.
Bike peered through the glass. “It’s Elaine,” he groaned now, turning away.
“Did she see you?”
“I don’t know. Let’s hope she gives up.”
Pam shook her head. “Oh no she won’t. I promised her the use of my P.C. and printer.”
“So?”
“So I told her if I didn’t answer immediately I might be in the attic room. You can’t always hear from there.”
“So?” he repeated.
“So I told her,” Pam said, jumping to her feet and reaching for her skirt, “to go round the back and come up the fire escape if she could. If I wasn’t here it was all right. She could use the printer.”
“Shit!”
“Exactly,” Pam agreed, slipping into her shirt. “I’ll have to let her in.”
“What about us?” he complained.
“Put something on. We’ll go down the town for an hour or so. After she’s gone we’ll have the rest of the day.” She disappeared through the door, busily fastening shirt buttons.
The front door opened and the bell was quietened. I heard their voices and then their uneven progress up the stairs. Elaine has a clubfoot and stairs are never easy for her even when she has on her surgical boot. I wondered what she’d make of this scene.
I didn’t have long to ponder that. As she entered the room, Pam close behind, Elaine quickly took in the details. Bike was decent, in fact, though, since he was hurriedly pulling on his own shirt he completely gave the game away. On top of that Pam’s bra and pants were where she’d chucked them, on the floor.
“I’m a slut,” she grinned, uneasily, picking up her clothing. “I’ll put these in the wash.” Well, she’d got the slut bit right.
“I, er, do seem to have come along at a bad time,” Elaine said, pursing her lips. She knew me, she knew Pam and she knew we were married.
“No problem,” Pam said, returning. “We were going into town anyway. You want the printer?”
“Well, yes please.”
“Ok. If you run out of paper there’s more in the cupboard, in the attic. Third shelf.”
“Oh. Thanks. Er, sorry.”
Bike gave her a sick grin then followed Pam who was already at the top of the stairs. They clattered down, out through the front door and slammed it behind them. Elaine stomped over to the window and watched them go. “Hmmph,” she grunted. She switched on the computer and printer, inserted a flash drive, and then looked around, searching. There was no paper.
I gulped, and retreated into the attic bedroom and waited for the inevitable discovery. I heard her struggling up the stairs, went to the door to offer help but she made it before I did. I backed off a little and sat down on the bed.
“Hullo,” she said. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“Neither did they,” I muttered, swallowing sickly. And suddenly I had to talk, to tell someone, and so the whole sorry tale came out. I didn’t edit it, or leave out the grotty details. After all, those are almost the worst part, seeing their intimacy and let’s face it, their lust for each other and my own sick reaction.
“I could have walked in on them,” I told Elaine, “But I didn’t want to.”
“Difficult,” she muttered, sitting beside me on that attic bed. “Besides, if you had it wouldn’t have made much difference.”
“You don’t know that,” I said.
“Oh yes I do. I’d seen them at the College, and on that park bench.” She grinned. “Like you, I couldn’t pull away. Pam didn’t tell you the whole truth,” she added.
“No?”
“No. And from what you’ve said she never has.”
“Embarrassing for her,” I muttered.
“Sure. To admit she’d had his cock in her throat, on a park bench and had then come home to you. Not easy.” Clearly she had no sympathy for Pam. “It simply isn’t right.”
“No, I know.”
“So whether you’d broken it up this time or not is immaterial. They’d soon find another opportunity.”
I had a moment’s insight. “You found it exciting, too?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t get many offers.” She gestured at her clubfoot. “It puts people off. They think I’m ugly.”
“That’s rubbish,” I cried. “You are one of the nicest people I know.”
She smiled, a little sadly. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
Her maybes might have been a plea for sympathy. If so I didn’t care. “Look, Elaine, beauty is in the whole person, not one physical detail.”
“Tell that to all the young studs around.”
“No,” I retorted. “That’s their loss. I’m telling you!”
“You’re kind,” she smiled.
Clearly she did not believe me. It only took a moment to slide to the floor. On my knees I struggled with the buttons fastening the surgical boot and finally managed to remove it, and her sock.
“Pathetic, isn’t it,” she murmured.
“It’s part of you,” I retorted. “That makes it beautiful.” I placed a kiss on one of her misshapen toes, and then in turn kissed all the others. She sighed, leaning back a little on the bed. Beyond her ankles you wouldn’t know there was anything wrong. If those first kisses were motivated partly in sympathy, I don’t know, for I was in an odd state of mind, The progress my lips made along her shin to her knees was all about desire, my sexual desire, mine, not hers, heightened by all the tension of recent times. I did, though have a strong need to make her feel good.
“You don’t have to,” she whispered.
To answer that I returned to her foot and spent some minutes kissing and stroking her there. She sighed quietly. I looked up as my lips travelled higher on her leg. There was colour in her cheeks and her lips were parted. She grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled me up. “You don’t have to do this,” she said.
“I want to. Don’t you like it?”
“Of course I like it.”
I put my arm round her shoulder, hugging her.
“So do I,” I smiled. “I wasn’t going to stop at your knees.”
She has a mischievous grin. “No, I don’t think you were. There’s an awful lot of sexual tension in you that needs a release.”
“That,” I retorted, “Is pot calling kettle black. Kiss me!”
So we kissed and we both forgot about her clubfoot and my internal agonies. At first we were tentative, gently exploring. I placed my tongue against her lips and a moment later those lips parted and her tongue sought mine. A tingle ran through me as they met, and caressed and very soon her restraint and mine was a distant memory. Hands explored, fingers undid buttons and zips. Her nipples were small and pink and rock hard. It was an enormous sense of freedom that swept over me as I was unwrapped. I kissed my way down her body, discarding clothing remnants as I went, travelling all the way down to her sound foot, lingering there and then transferring my attention to the other. In some strange way my lips on her disfigurement was yet more stimulant. She twisted and turned, naked on the bed, urgently reaching up to pull me closer. I knelt between her knees, poised, and she grabbed me, pulling me closer. “I want you, don’t hesitate now!”
“I’m not stopping, just taking it gently. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t,” she cried.
“I might.”
“I’m the original eager virgin but there’ve been too many lonely nights with vibrators,” she hissed. “The only thing I’m going to feel is sheer bloody pleasure.” I closed the gap between us, eager that she should find the right place. Our flesh touched, she wriggled a bit and then her hands were on my hips, pulling me down even as I thrust. A moment of friction and then I was sliding in. She grabbed my head, we kissed avidly, her legs straightened and our stomachs met. I was as deep in her as I could go.
We lay together, holding tight, for several moments. Then she pushed upwards from the hips. “Don’t come yet.”
“That’s why I’m keeping still,” I told her. “You’re so bloody exciting I’m on the brink.”
“Me too,” she whispered, wriggling again. “Let’s do it, and then do it again.”
In truth I was glad she said that for I don’t think I could have held out much longer short of a snowball in my crotch.
“Yes,” she cried as I thrust, once, twice and then I went rigid, eyes closed, and could do nothing except pump in extra ordinary ecstasy.
When I regained my breath, and my senses, I said, “I couldn’t stop.”
She smiled. “Neither could I.”
We lay together, joined in all manner of ways; lust abated, mutual affection and the satisfaction that our needs had been met. And after a while she quietly asked, “Can you do it again?”
Until she said that I’d had my doubts. I was no longer really hard. She began to rectify the situation, whispering loving encouragement backed up with roving hands. And so, taking all the time we needed, we built the passion and did it again.
After a while we separated. “No regrets?” she asked me.
“God, no. I don’t know who need it most, you or me, but it was the best ever, and the most wonderful loving I’ve ever had.”
“Me too,” she grinned. “The first and the best.”
I smiled. “Now comes the bother bit. Time to clean up.”
“We can make that fun,” she giggled.
“Sure. Do you want the good news or the bad news?”
“The shower doesn’t work?”
“Oh, it works fine.”
She sprang from the bed. “Then let’s get in there! I’m a mess. It’s lovely but I’m a mess.” She limped in ungainly fashion but she made it.
“Wait for me,” I said, swinging my feet to the floor.
She didn’t. Standing directly under the showerhead she reached out to the control unit and pressed the button to turn the tap full on. It worked. A strong stream of cold water cascaded over her.
“That’s the bad news,” I said, laughing, as she gasped. I braced myself and then dived in beside her.
We jumped and twisted for about 30 seconds, just enough to remove the sweat and the obvious evidence of our loving. Then we stopped being masochists.
“Towels?” she asked, stepping out.
I shook my head. “Not up here. We don’t use it because the heating element’s busted. All the towels are in the bathroom, downstairs.”
“Shhh,” she raised a finger to her lips.
There were voices downstairs. “It’s all right. She’s gone,” we heard Pam say.
“She left the machinery on.” Bike replied.
“Never mind that. I told you she wouldn’t wait.”
“Too embarrassed?”
“Well,” Pam retorted. “She saw us on the park bench.”
“And in the common room.”
“And here,” Pam added.
“I suppose she knows then.”
“I suppose she does,” Pam agreed. “But apart from sucking your dick a bit and a rather short session...”
“Yeah. Well, we can soon fix that. Come here.”
“Not on the couch. I want a bed.”
“But you said...”
“That was then. I’ve changed my mind. If you give it to me hard and fast I’ll break my back on that damn couch.”
“You are in a hurry.”
“Yes, I am,” Pam replied.
And then it went quiet.
“In the bedroom?” Elaine suggested,
I nodded.
“Come on, then.”
“Where?”
“To say hello. Look,” she added, grasping my penis which had started to stiffen, “You’re so glad to see them!”
“Like this?”
“Oh yes,” she replied, very firmly. “Just like this.”
So I wrapped one still wet arm around her naked body to support her and slowly we descended the stairs. In the lounge we turned towards the bedroom door. It was ajar.
“Don’t you come in my mouth,” we heard Pam say.
“I’m told it tastes good.”
“Then you drink it.”
“I can’t reach. I’m no contortionist. Go on, lick it. Please.”
It was quiet for a moment or two, and then Bike groaned. “Oh, yes. More.”
Elaine and I exchanged glances. She still held my penis and now tugged me forward. “You’re a hard woman,” I said, but not resisting.
“No, you’re the hard one.”
We reached the door and very carefully pushed it open. Bike had his back to us. He was kneeling on the bed his legs either side of Pam’s. We had a super view of his buttocks moving and between his legs we saw his hanging testicles and then part of his penis. The rest of it was thrusting in and out of Pam’s mouth. We saw her hands clutch his hips and push him back. “Not so hard. You’re hurting my throat.”
“Sorry. More, please. I’ll go gentle.”
“All right. Maybe a bit. But don’t you come in my mouth.”
It was just possible, between his legs, to see her part her lips and his penis slide on to her tongue. How she didn’t see us I don’t know. Maybe her eyes were fixed on something else. It wouldn’t be surprising for his hips were moving again, constrained by her firm grip, but he obviously loved it to judge by his groans.
I could feel the tension building in me; not so much the sight of my wife slurping over Bike’s penis, although that no doubt contributed to the sensation. It was more to do with Elaine’s attention, smoothly stroking mine.
In front of us Bike’s jerking suddenly quickened. He thrust a little harder, his buttocks clenched and then he moaned aloud.
Pam pushed him away angrily. “You bastard,” she shouted, leaning over the edge of the bed and spitting. I could see why. Bike was still pumping and it was going all over her face, breasts and stomach. Then she saw us and her mouth dropped open. There was sperm on her lips and a pool of it on her tongue. She stared at Elaine, her gaze dropping to the misshapen foot and then her glaring eyes travelled upwards, fixing on my arousal and what was happening to it. And then she couldn’t see for Bike had collapsed onto her.
“Come on,” Elaine said, turning away. “Leave them to it.”
We went back upstairs and once in the attic room I shut the door and locked it. “I’ve got all day,” I said, approaching the bed. “Have you?”
“I’ve reserved all of today just for you,” she smiled, beckoning me closer. “We’ll deal with tomorrow some other time.”
And the outcome? I told Pam next morning she simply had to choose. No more boy friends and sex outside marriage no matter how big the temptation. If that was what she wanted I’d rather be single. She consulted a marriage guidance council and decided to stay. I wasn’t confident it would last but it did, for a while. Then the inevitable happened, at some conference or other. She didn’t tell me but I knew. I challenged her, she refused to discuss it, and so I walked out. In the end it didn’t matter whether she had or she hadn’t. Without trust we were doomed for I was not going to go through the torment of uncertainty again. As for Elaine, the last I heard she was happily married with two very boisterous, completely normal kids. The eldest was named after me.
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