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Trying To Do The Decent Thing

By: ukresearcher



Note: This story was written before the advent of easy access to internet porn.

Doing the decent thing.

If it had not been for the vasectomy I would have recognised the signs much sooner. After all, my wife Adele and I had already travelled the pregnancy road three times - four if you count that initial miscarriage. Yes - all the signposts were there, mainly the morning sickness but also including the significant tenderness of her breasts, (at certain times in any ordinary month, I knew not to squeeze her tits but during early pregnancy she could not even bear the slight pressure of my body against them.) This time it took me a long time to realise her condition but I think that is understandable - I mean, if you fire blanks from a revolver at a friend and he falls down, you assume that he is messing about and do not seriously consider the possibility that you have killed him.

Right at the start I thought that it was food poisoning, blaming the sea-food Adele had been the only one to eat on our last meal out and I put down her rather morose demeanour down to her feeling under the weather from the sickness. Her tender tits were harder to explain away and it was this factor which eventually prompted me to try a double check at the vasectomy clinic.

I think that a little bit of history is appropriate here. For the first three years of the marriage my wife was on the pill and this was an idyllically happy period. Then escalating side effects combined with scare stories in the press decided her to give it up. We had already been discussing starting a family, so what better time was there to start. Adele is pretty fertile so she copped for one pretty well straight away but this turned to be a false start with heartache and trauma. We persevered and in a relatively short time our first son was born. I had a horror of condoms so from then on we depended on the old coitus interruptus and a bit of safe period theory complemented by some oral and anal sex. The net result was that we had three children in just under five years. At that point, having found out what was causing them, (as they say), I booked into a private clinic and had the snip. For a week I felt as if I was carrying my balls round in a bucket but over the six years since then the memory has faded. 

I entered the vasectomy clinic with very different emotions from the first time. The first time I had been filled with trepidation tempered with the belief that I was doing the responsible thing. Now I felt totally embarrassed. The girl on reception was just finishing varnishing her nails so I charitably allowed that it was necessity rather than rudeness, which prevented her from looking up straight away. I could not wait. "I had a vasectomy six years ago," I blurted out. "I would like a check to make sure that it really worked."

Now she did look up with a badly suppressed smirk and an 'Oh dear, not another one' expression on her face. She pressed the intercom to announce me as a Code 666 and ask if the doctor was free to see me. I did not hear his reply but apparently he was free because I was allowed through to his office. In contrast to his reception staff the doctor was very professional with a practised sympathetic manner. I gave my name and restated my case. He smiled and said, "Well at least it is not my handiwork that is in question because I have only been here for the last five years."

"I am not really questioning anybody's work. I have only really come for my own peace of mind."

"I understand that and we will of course do you a test free of charge as part of your original guarantee but I can assure you now that of all the men that we have re-tested, not one operation has been found at fault."

"All?" I repeated. "Have there been many?"

"Dozens - literally dozens while I've been working here." Then, seeing the shock on my face he qualified, "You must realise that in the same period we have performed hundreds of operations."

I was still shocked. I had gone there in the belief that I was possibly unique only to discover that I was only one out of an army of cuckolded men. By that I time I had realised that there was only a one in a million chance that I was the father of the child my wife was almost certainly carrying. However, I still went on with the test. It is a sign that I still had some resilience of spirit at that point, for when a very pretty nurse left me in an empty room give a sample; I wished she could have stayed to help me produce the semen.


As expected the test declared that it was 100% certain that I could not father a child - I waited for two hours at the clinic until the result could be told to me personally rather than have it posted to my home.

So - my wife had been unfaithful to me. This hurt but not as much as might be expected because I harboured a dark secret of my own. During those five long years when Adele had been almost exclusively a mother rather than a wife, there was one occasion on which I had strayed from the straight and narrow.

On a two day course away from home, drinking on lonely solitary splendour at the bar, I started chatting to a girl and very quickly it seemed, she was following me up to me room. I was envisioning a long night of badly needed passion but once in bed she seemed to go cold. We did have sex but very disappointing sex - it's no exaggeration to say that I have had more pleasure from my hand. She left shortly afterwards leaving me with a heavy weight on my conscience and all for virtually nothing. So you can see why I was not willing to condemn my wife out of hand for a sin that I had committed myself.

When we met, at nineteen, she was three years younger than me. We got on well but it was six months before we had full sex and we married a year after that. Then she was not particularly attractive with rather small breasts and on the thin side - but she did have exceptional legs. The years and motherhood have been kind to her. Now that she has mellowed, there are elements of true beauty in her face, she has filled out and her tits are better than many men could hope for. We live in a fairly small village where I manage the local estate agent office that handles the whole district -it may be limited but does produce a reasonable income. How would I describe myself? Imagine a 38-year-old estate agent, married for sixteen years and father to three pre-pubescent kids and you will not go far wrong.

When we discussed previous sexual experience, Adele admitted to one previous lover, the year before we met. She told me that he was the only son of a single parent mother who doted on him. The relationship lasted nine months, during the last six of which they had sex - but only once a fortnight when his mother attended an environmental concerns committee meeting. I did not need a calculator to work out that this amounted to little more than a dozen times altogether. As it happened this was only slightly more than my own tally over the years but I had accumulated my score as one-off occasions with different females. In a reversal of traditional sexual behaviour, all of my conquests lost interest as soon as they had their way with me. It was only after the marriage that Adele remembered to mention that she had actually lost her virginity at sixteen to some unknown male while stoned out of her mind at a party.

Despite the result of the test, I said nothing and it was not until three days later that things came to a head. When the kids were in bed, Adele poured two drinks, gave me one and sat down facing me. Her face seemed particularly drawn but I realised afterwards that this had been tension. "You really don't look well," I said. "You ought to see the doctor."  

"I went to see him this morning," she told me, "I suppose you have guessed that I'm pregnant."

"I had come to that conclusion."

"You know there is very little chance that it's yours," she said meeting my eyes for the first time.

"That thought had crossed my mind as well," I said.

Adele took a long drink from her glass. I think that she had expected a barrage of questions and was at a loss how to continue. "Was it rape?" I asked. To explain this question I must tell you that I have very strong opinions on abortion believing that the only two possible justifications are danger to health or forced impregnation. I was checking for this option and also deliberately giving Adele an excuse because it is well known that the majority of women who are raped don't tell their partners about it.

She shook her head. "No - it wasn't rape."

"How long has the affair been going on?" I thought that it was the logical follow up question.

"It wasn't an affair either. I only went with him the one time - I mean, I only spent one night with him."

I could forgive this. I was after all, the direct equivalent my own transgression - when I took that girl to my room, my intent had been the same if not the actual fruition. I smiled to let my wife know that this had not upset me as much as she might have expected.

"He's called E..." she started to say but I held up a hand to stop her.

"I don't want to know any details at all," I said making an impromptu decision that I was to bitterly regret over the next two days. Some consolation can sometimes be drawn from knowing all the facts but there is an unlimited number of permutations that the ignorant mind can dredge up for self torment.

"I was thinking about adoption," she said hesitantly after a fairly long pause. I was not surprised that she had bypassed termination. Brought up as a Catholic, Adele fell most definitely in to the lapsed category but retained abhorrence of abortion and to a much lesser extent, contraception.

 As it happened, I also had intense feelings about adoption. Before I met Adele, my older brother had fathered an illegitimate daughter who he had seen only once before she was handed to an adoption agency. Over the years I have though often of the little girl and wondered what had happened to her. I knew that I could never let a child of mine disappear to who knows where - so how could I demand such a sacrifice from the woman that I loved. "I will accept the child as mine - nobody need ever know any different," I said magnanimously, wanting only to bring back a hint of happiness to my wife's face. She did smile and kiss me lovingly but my words certainly had not lightened her load in the way that I had intended.

Over the next two days she seemed even more morose than before her confession - it puzzled me but I said nothing. We had spent a long quiet evening watching mediocre television and were preparing to go to bed when she suddenly grabbed me with tears streaming down her face and blurted out, "There's no chance of you pretending that the baby is yours Simon - because it won't be white."

That floored me and I think I stared at her with jaw hanging open in the traditional gob-smacked manner. Adele took a deep breath and said, "And while I am at it I have got to tell you that I have been with loads of other men during the past year."

Finally my anger broke through. "Been with, been with," I snarled. "Why use polite euphemisms when you have behaved like a bloody whore?"

"OK. Lots of men fucked me before Errol - is that what you want me to say," she snapped back but was then immediately contrite. "I'm sorry Simon you have every right to be upset. I don't know what to say."

Strangely I found a grain of hope in this new knowledge. "Perhaps one of the others might be the father," I suggested.

Adele shook her head sadly. "The timing is wrong and anyway it wouldn't make any difference because all of the others were black too."

"All of them?"

"Yes all of them. Every one."

 "You had better tell me everything - right from the beginning," I said.

Adele folded her hands on her lap. "It started at Jenny's hen-night," she began.

I had better fill in a bit of background before relating what my wife had to say. For more than ten years on almost every Wednesday night, I had driven twenty miles into the city to spend the evening playing bridge. The session lasted from 7pm until 11pm with a half hour break during which the club provided tea and biscuits as part of the small entrance fee. During that period, Adele had her own evenings, at one time mother and child discussion groups, later whist or bingo in the village hall. For the past three years she had been on the committee which organised the village fair and later Xmas festivities. For a couple of years she went to parties from which I benefited. They were lingerie parties and the exotic underwear that Adele brought home certainly enlivened our sex life. Sadly these parties came to an abrupt end when the lady running them was found to have been giving private shows for some of the husbands - the objection was not to her modelling the underwear but the fact that she wore nothing at all. One night Adele brought home a vibrator. I could not understand why it was so unrealistically large, (she could only get about two thirds inside her), but it certainly enhanced our relationship. After foreplay involving this toy, an orgasm was guaranteed when, left to my own devices, I often failed to ring the bell.

Some eighteen months previously while supermarket shopping in the city, Adele bumped into an old friend called Carla, who she had not seen for over fourteen years and over a coffee they arranged to have a night out together. Early that Friday evening, my wife caught the bus into town to return by taxi at 1 am, very merry from the effects of alcohol but far from inebriated. She had enjoyed a marvellous time, in a group which comprised Carla's flat mate Jenny and a couple of other women friends.

"They have invited me to go out with them again next month," Adele told me and I was quite happy to agree until she told me how much her evening had cost. With thirty pounds spent on drink and food with more than that for the taxi home, I reckoned that it had been an expensive evening and warned her not to make a habit of it. I also pointed out that my Bridge club only cost two pounds for the evening. "Yes but what about your petrol there and back, every bloody week and you have been doing it for the last ten years. I would like to meet them regularly - so there!" my wife shot back.

I had to agree that I was being unreasonable but then I had another cause for unease when Adele told me that her new friends called themselves the 'ex-wives club' after the film. I pointed out that she was not an ex wife and said that I didn't want her picking up the habits of women who had no ties - meaning from a morals point of view. Adele laughed. "They call themselves that as a joke because they've all been married before but both Fay and Gloria have new husbands, Jenny is getting married in about six months and Carla has got a fiancé working in Saudi Arabia. You've no need to worry my love because it is perfectly respectable. At the disco last night there were men hovering about but we all danced with each other and anyway, most times they all congregate in Carla's flat, get booze in from the off-licence and spend the evening chatting and listening to CD's. It's a girl thing." 

So she started having her night out and after a few months it came time for Jenny's marriage and the regular night out was made into a hen night with a lot of other female friends and acquaintances involved. Jenny was booked into the hotel where the party was to be held for the night, with her mother on hand to guard her chastity. This left Jenny's own bed at the flat free so Adele was invited to stay overnight there, to travel home by bus on the Saturday morning, saving the horrendous taxi fare. The following month, she again stayed over and the greatly reduced travelling expenses were now matched by my wife spending far less than before on drinks. So when Adele pointed out that as her costs were now so little, she could afford a night out every two weeks instead of four, I was happy to agree. My ulterior motive in appearing so amenable was that I had taken to watching the after midnight movies on the X-rated channel. 

At no time did I have any reason to suspect that anything was amiss. The way that she dressed gave no clue, possibly a trifle more daring than for a village fete but well within the bounds of respectability. I reckon that thousands of women have worn clothes far more sexually explicit and yet finished up a damn sight more chaste. In retrospect there is only fact which I now think had significance and that is that our sexual habits changed. For years Saturday had been our day for love-making but now sex disappeared from the agenda for that day - at least on the Saturdays following her nights away. 

Following that opening remark about the hen night, Adele had stopped and said that as there was a lot to tell we should get drinks or a cup of tea and make ourselves comfortable before she continued. I agreed and some ten minutes later, settled myself for what I knew it would give me no pleasure to hear.

"At the start I did not like the party," my errant wife began again, "There were too many women crammed together in a small space, some I knew vaguely but most not at all. I also found the atmosphere rather childish with too much loud laughter and lots of puerile smutty jokes of the kind I used to giggle at behind the bike sheds when I was at school. Very quickly I was wishing that the evening could have been for our own small compact group and then finding out that the main event was to be three male strippers pleased me not at all.  I could understand why men enjoy watching a female stripper but the prospect of watching a man remove his clothes left me cold. My antipathy increased when the first act came on because it provoked a bedlam of 'Get en off' cries and vulgar whistles from all parts of the room. He had a weasel face, bright ginger hair and he was short and stocky. He got down to the raw amazingly quickly and then strutted about puffing himself up into stereotyped poses with suggestions coming from the audience, phrased in language that I thought only the worst sort of man would use." 

She took a quick glance ay my face before explaining, "I had always believed that male strippers retained some cover and if not only displayed a limp penis briefly at the end of the act. The fact that this was a private party probably explains the difference but all three of these performers sported a full erection virtually from the start of their turn. I was amazed by the size of this first man's prick and assumed that he must be a freak and only performing because of that fact. I may be naïve but up until then I had always believed that you were pretty average - you see David my first was even smaller than you - and yours and his were the only two cocks I had ever seen. Since then I have discovered that God was not very kind to at all in that way my love."

Adele paused to light a cigarette. "The next one was black - a young bloke, no more than early twenties. He was very fit with all his muscles clearly delineated. Without his clothes, he shone as if polished and I assumed that he must have oiled himself but since then I have found that black people have a natural sheen to their skin. His cock was even bigger than the guy with ginger hair and it looked perfect. It is a funny thing to say about a man but he was beautiful. He was very agile and walked about on his hands doing the splits in both directions and while he was performing, in contrast to the first act, there was total silence. I glanced around quickly and saw that all eyes were riveted upon him and that every woman without exception was licking her lips. I was feeling hot and bothered myself but put that down to the novelty of the situation. He finished his act by standing still as a statue and using muscle power alone, moved his stiff cock to one side then the other, than up and then down. Deservedly he made his exit the thunderous applause."


Trying To Do The Decent Thing



There was a pause here as Adele took several drags of her cigarette without speaking. "The star of the show was more audience friendly because where the first two had stayed on the platform throughout, he spent most of his act circulating, if you can call it that. He was older than the others and his cock was much bigger - it was enormous. I think that he was the most muscular of the three but you couldn't tell because he had lots of black hair all over his chest and tattoos on his arms. After quickly stripping, he wandered about letting some women have a quick feel - his balls hung down as big as lemons and some wanted to squeeze those. Because it was Jenny's party he made a point of standing in front of her jiggling his prick close to her face. Quick as a flash she grabbed it, got in her mouth and started sucking as if her life depended upon it. All the women cheered and I felt intensely jealous seeing the look of pleasure on her face. Jenny wouldn't let go of it and all around there was rhythmic clapping and a chant, 'CUM, CUM, CUM'. In the end the guy had to almost prize it out of her mouth but he said ' I've got to finish my act darling. Give me a couple of minutes and it's all yours'. 

I could tell from her eyes that Adele's mind was back in the scene as she continued, "He started circulating some more but all the women were now inflamed with lots of hands really grabbing at him, all wanting some of what Jenny got. Some girls had got their tits out - Fay was one of them, and one was stripped to the waist whirling her bra round her head. He quickly made his way back to Jenny but by then she had passed out, (I think her drinks were spiked) and when everyone saw this, the place went crazy with everyone surging forward. He panicked and ran for a door at the back with a cloud of knickers in the air following him. In what looked like a practised operation, the door opened to let him through and then quickly shut again. I was not part of this mass hysteria but my heart was pounding like crazy and if they had caught him, I don't know what I would have done."

My wife paused and looked into my eyes trying to judge the effect of her story. I slowly shook my head finding it hard to imagine women behaving like that - not to mention her admitted reactions. I would find it even harder to imagine the things that she still had to tell.

"The party rather broke up after that even though it was meant to go on longer. Some went home but most dashed off to various night-clubs almost certainly in search of men. I was buzzing - I knew that I was supercharged in a way that I had never been before. Fay and Gloria had disappeared but when Carla asked if I was ready to go back to the flat, I shook my head. I wanted something more out of the evening but was not sure what. Carla gave me a conspiratorial wink. 'I know exactly how you feel,' she said. 'If you promise not to tell the others, I'll take you to a rather special club where I sometimes go to unwind.' Needless to say I was pleased to pledge secrecy."

Earlier we had opted for coffees but now Adele jumped to pour herself a very large gin, returning with a whiskey for me of equal quantity. I shook my head but she said tersely, "You're going to need it," and pressed it into my hand. I sat back and started to listen with mounting horror and despondency. Until much later I will stop mentioning my own thoughts and actions to report my wife's story in her own words:-

"We got a taxi, which after only a short distance dropped us outside a doorway in a rather dismal back street. Inside a tiny foyer there was a black man looking immaculate in full dinner suit complete with bow tie. He smiled broadly on seeing Carla, showing a mouthful of very white teeth, 'Can't stay away can you?' he said to which my friend replied, 'I just know what I like.' I made a gesture with my purse offering payment but he waved me through saying that the first time was always free. Carla didn't pay any entrance fee either and I realised that she had not expected to. 'I know Dexter very well,' she explained when I raised my eyebrows at her.

The room was fairly small and poorly lit but it seemed packed. From what I could see in the dim lighting, there was not another white face there apart from the pair of us. There was a wreath of smoke around each of the sparse light bulbs and a peculiar odour seemed to permeate the whole atmosphere. It was not until I saw a very thick cigarette being passed hand to hand that I realised the cause of the smell. The loud background music had a steady insistent beat but the hubbub of conversation muted the melody beyond recognition. Almost immediately we were approached by a quartet of males, dressed alike in loose baggy clothes all four sporting a great amount of gold in the way of neck chains, rings and bracelets. They all knew Carla and greeted her warmly while looking at me with open curiosity. 

We were shepherded to a spot near the bar and soon had drinks in our hands. My friend was chatting happily but I could barely understand a single word said to her. I took the opportunity to look around and was shocked to find myself the focus of so many eyes. But eyes that all looked at me in a certain way - I could not have felt more exposed had I been completely naked. At one time I would have simply shrivelled inside but at that moment, affected by the drinks, the smoke and the previous part of the evening I glowed, even holding my breath to make my tits look even bigger.

Two of the four guys that we now seemed to be with, were pressed unnecessarily close against me but maybe they had little choice given the general crush. The novelty of this situation, completely foreign to my experience, exited me in a strange way and made me feel kind of highly tuned. Added to that, I had a light-headedness undoubtedly induced by the cannabis fumes. I really should have attended to the call of nature before leaving the party but now it became a matter of urgency. I whispered my problem to Carla and she led me to the loo. Pushing our way through the packed bodies, I felt the fleeting touch of many hands but the expected serious grope never materialised. We went into the same cubicle and took turns. 'What do you think of this place then?' my friend asked looking up.

'Exciting.' It was the nearest word that I could think of.

'And how does it make you feel?'

'Horny.'  I intended that as a joke but it was the truth.

Carla gave a satisfied smile. 'That's all that I need to know,' she said with a secretive smile.

Soon after we had returned to our new friends near the bar, Carla said something to the others and I found myself filtering outside and accompanying them to the end of the street. There we flagged down a taxi and all piled in to travel with the two females sitting upon the legs of the men. There was no significance in this arrangement other than expediency but I still felt a thrill on detecting unmistakable evidence that one had become rather aroused having me on his lap. As we all crowded into the flat, it had very much the air of our girlie evenings and I think that lulled me into a false sense of security.

 There was a three-seater settee and two armchairs, perfect for the ex wives club plus me but one short for the current number.  I sat on the settee, with a male on either side, Carla took an armchair whereupon, one black man sat on the floor with his back against her legs and the other draped himself along the arm of her chair. We started chatting and I understood the four men a lot better - either I was picking up on their intonation or they were speaking more slowly for my benefit. At that stage all the slang words still left me in the dark. 

A CD was started and someone produced a joint which was passed round - at first I tried to refuse but quickly capitulated to pressure. My first drag made me dizzy, the second was nothing special but after the third it felt as if I was floating six inches in the air. Instead of sitting at the ends of the settee as the girls would have done, my two companions were crowded close to me with their thighs hard against mine. This did not bother me - in my airborne state, I actually found it rather reassuring. We talked about this and that during which exchanges I elicited the information that their names were Clay and Adam. I was in a relaxed state, pleasantly drifting and drawing secret pleasure from the proximity of warm bodies on either side when I realised that Carla was standing looking down at me. 'My two studs are taking me for a bit of private passion - you three will have to amuse yourselves for a while,' she said.

Too late I had discovered that my friend had place a different interpretation on my earlier words to what I had intended. I realised that distraction was my only hope was to keep talking until Carla returned. The two lads seemed happy to go along with this and it was reassuring that they had not pounced on me immediately. I talked ten to the dozen asking about work, brothers, sisters, parents, hobbies and even pets. They answered everything with amused smiles and I could not help noticing what extraordinarily perfect white teeth they both had and how pink and wet their tongues looked in contrast to the black skin. Inevitably one leaned forward to kiss me. It was obvious that I had to give them something more than conversation because I had already run out of topics and I was not at all sure how long 'a while' would be. Also I have to admit that I was not averse to the thought of having one of those sexy pink tongues in my mouth. Both guys demanded kisses, in fact a damn sight more than one. I thoroughly enjoyed them. They were the first intimate kisses that I had exchanged with anyone other than you since we met and I can't deny that the race difference was an additional titillating factor.

At some point they started fondling my breasts. I was pretty worked up from the kissing and this did not help but I was still in control of myself and figured that I could easily keep these two happy without it getting serious until Carla finished her business in the bedroom. I was less sure when they undid the blouse buttons, pushed up my bra and started gnawing on a nipple each because my heart began to pound and I had a growing sensation of wetness between my legs. As if by prearranged signal, Clay and Alan each took one of my hands and rested them on the front of their pants. I did not remove my hands but deliberately left them immobile even though it was hard to resist the temptation to squeeze the throbbing bulges under my fingers. 

My two admirers stopped sucking, lifted my hands to the vacated breasts and indicated that they wanted me to play with myself. I was more than happy to oblige because it was less arousing for me and reduced the risk of getting tell tale teeth marks on my tits. I could have done that all night but too soon they stopped me and I willingly returned my hands to where they had been previously. But things had changed because my fingers now encountered hot rampant naked flesh. I opened my eyes in surprise and looked down and that was a mistake because after once seen my pale fingers round those glistening black rigid shafts, they would have needed to be prised loose.

So I was into heavy petting but it was only a desperate rearguard action until rescue came. The trouble was - no matter how many times I looked hopefully towards Carla's bedroom door, it remained obstinately closed. In many ways my situation was safer because I imagined that throughout history, countless women must have saved themselves from the ultimate sacrifice with a fortuitously timed spot of hand relief. The real danger was not that they would force me to go too far but that I would abandon all restraint and beg them to give me what Carla was getting only a few feet away.

Trying to ignore the pleasure of holding a large stiff prick in each hand, I started wanking them both in earnest, putting everything that I knew into it and hoping to make them cum and so lessen the danger to my aching cunt. Simon, I'm telling you this in so much detail to let you know that, even after all the build up of the evening, I put up a valiant struggle trying to stay faithful to you. Clay stopped me, removed my hand and then gently urged my head down towards the bulbous head of his swollen cock. The image if Jenny's eager mouth gleefully gobbling flashing into my mind made me eager to comply. I could not bend far enough so had to release Alan's prick to get into a better position. After all, he would certainly want the same and it was first come first served. I had no fear of them cumming in my mouth because I have swallowed your spunk Simon often enough without finding it too desperately unpleasant. Alan seemed willing to drop out of the action so I edged myself until I was kneeling between Clay's legs. In this position I was able to grasp his shaft with one hand, squeeze his balls with the other and really get to work with my mouth. It felt so big and I loved the feel of that taut black skin against my tongue. I was so enamoured with the task in hand that I was not at first aware that Alan was putting himself back into the equation. I only realised when I felt my knickers being pushed aside and the head of his cock touching the lips of my cunt. By then I was past caring and to be honest I think that my hot twat actually sucked him inside. 

It was the first time in my life that I had a real cock inside me and I exploded. It was devastating. I thought that I had orgasms before but they were just tickles compared to this. This was the real thing. Then to make my joy complete, my mouth was filled with hot creamy cum. I was in absolute heaven. Triggered by my involuntary body convulsions, Clay shot his own load high up inside my twitching twat. In just a matter of minutes I had switched from being a faithful wife to having potent black semen pumped into me at both ends.

I was pulled to my feet and dragged towards the other bedroom door. I knew that this was just the beginning, and dreaded Carla suddenly appearing to say it was time for the men to go home. By the time that we were all naked on the bed, both men were ready to go again and my cunt was a void, aching to be filled. This time it was Alan who rammed his stiff rod up inside me and Clay's love tube destined to fill my throat with his delicious man cream. 

After three hours of virtually solid sex I lay satiated and glowing all over. I heard voices and then was aware that my two lovers were dressing. Shortly after I had heard the front door shut, Carla got into bed with me, snuggled up close and began lightly stroking my breasts. This was not lesbian stuff - rather recognition of the need for continuing bodily contact when unwinding after sex. After a while she asked softly 'Was it good?'

'Oh Carla, you've no idea. I was absolutely out of this world.'

She chuckled. 'I rather thought that it might be.'

'How did you know that I would go along with it?'

'A combination of things,' she said. 'I've thought for a while that you looked unfulfilled but at the party I knew for certain. When the black lad was doing his stuff you had a dreamy expression so I started watching you then, when Jenny got hold of that last stripper and tried to swallow him whole, you had a look of raw hunger on your face. That's when I decided to include you in my plans for the rest of the night.'

'Otherwise you would have taken on all four of them,' I asked incredulously.

Carla sat up laughing and looked down at me. 'No - even I have got limitations. Usually at the club I head for the clique you met tonight and perm any two from four. Occasionally I give some others a try and then there is always Dexter when I feel like something extra special.'

I hitched up until I was sitting and accepted a cigarette. 'Do all black men have extra large cocks?' I had to ask.

'Not really - although the myth says otherwise. They are larger when limp so it gives an impression at army medicals and such but statistics prove that when erect there isn't a lot in it. When you are young you come across all sizes but men with little winkies have the sense to get married young and stay faithful so that at our age, most men that you come across, black and white, all have pretty decent equipment. However, black men are more basic, they treat a woman like a woman and they have a damn sight more stamina, virility, whatever. Any average woman should be able to satisfy two highly sexed men but it is almost impossible for one man to satisfy two highly sexed women - the point is that a black man would make a far better effort.'

I know we chatted some more and that I thanked her profusely but I think that I fell asleep still sitting up. Next morning I awoke alone and the perspective had completely changed. I was utterly ashamed of myself and for the first time started worrying about possible pregnancy. I could not understand what had possessed me to behave in such a lewd and promiscuous manner. I got into the shower and began to scrub myself cruelly hard. I was getting rid of the dried semen which coated my breasts and thighs but more importantly the smell of the two men. Black men have a different natural body odour to Caucasians. I don't find it distasteful, in fact it turns me on but it was imperative that you did not get a whiff when I got home.

The days following were terrible. I felt so guilty and disloyal, and I found it difficult to look you in the face. And on top of that there was the constant worry that I might be pregnant. When my period came I was over the moon. I dug out the old charts from years ago and found that my infidelity had happened bang in the middle of the safe days. After that I did not feel so bad. It had been so wonderful, I started to rationalise that every woman was entitled to experience something like that at least once in her life. A great number of women do - possibly the majority as if they were genetically programmed to do it. You'd be surprised how many women in this village have had a one night stand or an affair - for some reason they all want to confide in me. Very few husbands find out. The women have their fling, file away the memory and then go back to loving their husbands as if nothing had happened. I decided that I could do the same.

I tried to make it up to you in lots of little ways. When the next girls evening came round I didn't want to go but thought it might look suspicious if I didn't. I worried that Carla might say something in front of the others but she did not even throw me a conspiratorial look all evening. I picked of the armchair because I could not bear sitting on the settee where it had all started. By midnight I had relaxed and was enjoying the conversation when Carla suddenly bustled the others out when usually these evenings drifted on until 1am or after. Rather surprised I started preparing to retire, wondering if I would be able to sleep in that bed, but my friend signalled me to stay. I sat down reluctantly fearing that she wanted to talk about the previous month when I just wanted to forget all about it. Actually she talked about nothing at all. I was wondering about the point of it all when the doorbell rang.

Carla returned, followed by the four young black men from before. The moment that I saw them, I knew that I was going to do it again. I wanted it so badly that I would willingly have skipped any conversation and run to the bedroom tearing off my clothes as I went. As it was I had a bulge under each hand almost as soon as we were seated. This time we had switched pairs. The mandatory joint was passed round and then we retired to the separate bedrooms. The cocks of Clay and Alan were almost identical but these two were different. One was shorter but thicker than the previous pair while the other was longer and thinner. However there was no difference in enthusiasm or virility. Also, I had wasted no time being coy this time, I think we got in more hard fucking. While I was sucking the longer penis it just slipped naturally right down my throat without making me gag at all. I had always believed that giving 'deep throat' was a skill but it was so easy. Later on one of them buggered me. He didn't use lubrication but by that time there was loads of cum about that had leaked out of my cunt. That prick just slipped in naturally too without me realising at first what was happening. You used to do that to me too Simon, before you had your vasectomy. I don't know why you stopped because I really do love it that way.




Trying To Do The Decent Thing



Next morning, it was understood without saying that I would want to keep on doing it. Carla said that it was a nuisance having to wait until the other girls had gone before we could start the fun. She wondered if it was possible for me to get another night out every month. 'If you can we can go to the club and you can pick your own,' she said. You agreed to my extra night Simon without having any idea why I wanted it.

So that became the routine. On 'ex wives' nights, Carla arranged for guys to turn up after midnight, usually different and on the mid month night we went to the club. It soon got around that I was looking and there were loads of offers so I was able to pick and choose. I seldom went with the same one twice because I was hungry for experience. During the night that fell in the middle of my safe period, I never bothered at all with contraception but club nights were a different matter. I allowed a bit of bare-back before they got hot but if they wanted to cum in my cunt I insisted that they put on a condom first. I gave more head and a lot opted to fuck my bum rather than use a rubber. Black men rather like pulling out anyway and squirting the spunk over my tits or face, (Carla says they especially like doing that with white women). When I'm sucking I think it's a waste because I would far rather have the lovely stuff in my mouth but I know that it has made the skin on my breasts a lot smoother and I think my complexion has improved as well.

Just over a month ago, when I arrived Carla told me that we were not going to the club. 'It's a special night,' she said. "Dexter is coming round."

'For me?'

My friend shook her head. 'Dexter is hard to get and I don't share him with anybody. Don't worry - he is bringing someone for you and I rather think that you are going to like him.'

'Tell me more,' I urged eagerly.

'Well he doesn't spend much time in this country. He is based in Jamaica and makes his money on the fringes of the yardie gangs.'

'A yardie? If he is some kind of hoodlum, I'm not sure that I want to know,' I said feeling rather dismayed.

'Hoodlums have cocks too,' she said with a grin. 'Don't jump to conclusions - I said he is on the fringes. He is a really nice guy and I'm sure that you are going to be crazy for him. Just wait until you meet him.'

When the two men arrived, first impressions justified my fears. He was very tall with very black hard looking face and lots of hair done in full Rastafarian braids. However, when he smiled his face lit up and his eyes looked warm. Then when he said, 'I've heard a lot about you. By all accounts you are quite a lady,' I just melted.

It was obvious that Carla knew him fairly well and there developed a three way conversation to which I just listened, content to drink him in with my eyes. He was talking about Jamaica and he seemed to have made a load of money but exactly how I could not quite grasp. In the bedroom I hesitated, unsure whether he would want to undress me but he started removing his own clothes instead. I was bent over having just pulled my knickers down to my knees when I glanced up and froze. Just in front of my eyes a long column of flesh hung down between his legs - it was by far the biggest penis that I had ever seen and it wasn't even stiff. In addition, his balls looked as if they belonged on a bull.

His cock soon became stiff when we started touching and kissing. It was magnificent - just looking at it seemed to take my breath away. The size of this proud prick did pose a problem and that was one of contraception because this was my fertile time. It would be sacrilege to stretch rubber over such perfection even if one was manufactured to enclose such bulk. I did not think that Errol would be willing to pull out at the critical moment and I doubted it a penis that size could be pulled out quickly enough anyway. Most of important of all was my wish to have skin to skin and finish up with his cum inside me. An insidious argument crept into my mind. Exactly a month before, a condom had burst early on and, on the 'shutting the stable door' principal, I had allowed open season after that. The penalty had been a worrying wait fixated by my menstrual calendar. I had got away with it then so why not again? I wanted it so badly.

Beyond myself I dropped to my knees and started smothering that beautiful cock with kisses of sheer adoration. Calming down I licked up to the top and tried to put it in my mouth but only the front part of the helmet could go inside without coming into contact with my teeth. In frustration I wriggled the end of my tongue into his slit and it went in quite a long way. I could tell he liked this because his penis swelled to full grandeur. That was enough for me. I threw myself backwards on the bed and lay with my legs spread as far apart as they would go. "Put it in me please," I begged.

He shook his head and said, 'It's too soon yet chicken.'

'I need it now,' I insisted. 'Please Errol put it in. Please do it.'

I could tell that he was going to do what I asked and I lay there, trembling all over in anticipation. I felt the head against my cunt and then he pushed but it didn't go in. Frantically I reached down trying to pull my labia lips open and begging, 'Push. Push hard. I don't care how much it hurts.'

He stopped and lay down beside me. Now the tremors coursing through my body were ones of frustration.  'Relax, my flower,' he said gently. 'You are going to take it all, I promise. We mustn't rush these things. We have got to treat this like a banquet and not make a grab for everything right at the start.'

His voice had a hypnotic effect and I abandoned myself into his hands. We played using hands and fingers without urgency. We sucked and nibbled each other all over. I could only lick his balls because they wouldn't cram into my mouth either. I traced the many scars on his hard body and his fingers deep inside my cunt ignited a furnace that I felt could never be quenched.

Judging that the time was right, Errol positioned me as he wanted and started pushing himself into me. This time it went in and ever so slowly advanced. I tingled at the wondrous sensation of feeling my body stretch to the limit in its effort to accommodate him. Then he stopped. I had never felt so marvellously full in my life and gave a long sigh of contentment. Looking up I asked contentedly, 'Is it all in?'

He gave me grin that in other circumstances would be described as cheeky but shook his head. I reached down. I could not feel how much of his dick was still outside but I could tell that his body was still inches away from my own. 'You are eager my sweet,' Errol crooned. 'We will get there in the end never fear. Just relax and enjoy.

He started moving in and out, keeping up a steady rhythm but gradually increasing speed. From the moment that he had first entered me I had sensations like nerves exploding at random all over my body but now I started to cum and from then on I didn't stop. It was like waves breaking on the shore, one orgasm after the other, each one overlapping the next. At the height of one climax he gave an extra push and I could tell that he had gone inches further in. I was almost delirious from the orgasm combined with the sensation of territory penetrated for the first time. I controlled myself enough to gasp, 'Is that it?'

His levity had gone because now he was into serious fucking but he said, 'It's about all that you are going to get greedy lady.' He had not said 'Yes' but I had taken his answer as such and I glowed with satisfaction at the achievement.

Now he was ramming his penis fast over the full area conquered. I can find no more superlatives to describe the sensations which flooded through me in an ever building torrent. I knew that this was the fuck of my life. I would never find a bigger penis and even if Errol shagged me many more times, instinctively I knew that it could never be the same as the first. I had self-knowledge of completeness and with this the awareness that I was opening to him like a flower. Suddenly his penis went further in, in one jolt and possibly as much as two more inches. I don't know much about anatomy but all that stiff male flesh must have gone somewhere and the only thing I know about down there is my womb. From his face I could tell that my lover was surprised to have made this further encroachment within me. This even deeper penetration also had a psychological effect upon him because without build up, with no warning he started to cum. The effect of the hot sperm gushing against my internal parts in this deeply personal unexplored area sent my whole vaginal passage into spasm. Along its length my cunt walls clamped tight around his turgid shaft, holding it immobile and yet maintaining a milking motion to force the juice of his passion from him. Errol's problem was that having just broken through into fresh territory with no subsequent movement, the girth of his shaft formed a plug in the neck of the new area leaving nowhere for his boiling cum to go. He could not move or pull back because I held him in a vice and yet his great balls kept futilely pumping as they tried to eject their fertile load. On and on, pumping, pumping, pumping. From my lovers throat there issued a continuous long low moan. He told me afterwards that he was in agony - but that agony which is closely allied with ecstasy.

In the midst of all this something happened to me. It may have been just a different kind of orgasm but it felt akin to an out-of-body experience. I was intensely aware of each centimetre of the tortured mass of male meat trapped inside me and I could even sense the column of semen within it fighting valiantly to burst forth. I knew without a shadow of doubt that I had conceived and if pressed would claim that I felt the exact moment of conception.

When his cock had finally stopped twitched he collapsed on top of me and holding him in my arms, I felt the muscles of my twat reluctantly release their grip. I felt full of him, full of spunk and if it is not to much a pun on words - full of fulfilment. I felt that he was part of me or conversely, that my whole body was an extension of his penis. Just lying still, he soon stiffened again and started moving. Now the sexual liquids, bottled up under pressure within me started to find release and each time his piston move back and forth, small jets of jism, squirted out of my quim to hit my thighs and no doubt coat his balls. These emissions made a rather disgusting noise, causing us both to laugh and making this second into rather a fun fuck. Again my orgasms came fast and furious but this time when he ejaculated it was fairly normal. I still loved the feeling of his seed gushing into me but the previous almost mystic experience was not repeated.

One regret is that I never managed to get my mouth full of his cum. After the second shag I licked his cock and between each of the other screws I stuck my fingers up inside me, got them nicely coated with spunk and then sucked then. This gave me a good taste but it must have been affected by the flavour of my own juice.

He stayed with me until morning. We kept falling asleep and then waking up to fuck again. After the first time he just slid in all the way with no problem and I fitted round him like a glove. At times during the night he really pounded into me with his pelvis slamming hard really hard and this primitive fucking nearly sent me crazy. After he left, I got in the shower but I really did not want to wash his smell off me. I only did it so that you wouldn't know what I had been doing immediately I got home. Deep down I knew that you were going to know soon anyway. By then I was hoping that I was not pregnant but only because I did not know how I was going to tell you."

Adele stopped talking, drained her glass and then looked straight into my eyes. Deep within them I read conflicting emotions. There most certainly was defiance but also sorrow at the pain her words were causing me. I felt that this last implied at least some remaining love. "That's it Simon, the whole sordid story," she said, her voice now strangely flat. "I have told it as it was without trying to minimise anything that I have done. I regret most of it. I regret going with all those men even though I enjoyed every minute of it. It all started as a mental aberration but then I couldn't stop. I see now that I was a woman who took nights off from being a loyal wife to turn into a slut who just loved opening her legs for lots of black men. That was just selfishness and indulgence on my part and there is no excuse. Errol was different and I do not regret him at all. He was a kind of destiny. I feel that if I had never met him, my life would be less than it is now - no matter how things turn. Going with the others was definitely wrong but with Errol, I can't believe that something which felt so right can possibly be wrong." She stopped talking but when I did not immediately respond she asked, "Have you anything to say?"

"What do you expect me to say when you tell me that you have been a whore for a cartload of niggers and sit there carrying a black bastard in your belly?" I said bitterly and had the satisfaction of seeing here wince at my words. But, immediately the bile had left me I was ashamed - never in my life had I been a racist in any form and yet that word had popped out as if it had always been lurking at the back of my tongue. In a softer voice a said, "Are you asking me to continue loving you and accept the child as I suggested that I would before you told me the true facts?"

My wife shrugged her shoulders helplessly.  "I'm not asking anything Simon. Whatever the rights and wrongs of what I have done, I know that I can ask nothing off you."

I let her suffer for a few moments more and then I said, "I won't promise yet because there are things that I need to know but the answer is 'Yes'.  'Yes' I do still love you and 'Yes', I will bring the child up as part of this family."

Some of the tension eased out of Adele's face but there was not the wholehearted relief that I had expected. It made me wonder what facts still lay hidden which may yet cause me to change my mind. She did not speak but raised her eyebrows in anticipation of my first question. "Is this it - is it over or do you intend to see any of your new 'friends' in the future?"

"It is all over with," she said and I could tell that she meant it. "After Errol, I have no interest in the others and if I saw him again it is bound to be an anti climax. He is far better left as a memory."

That was my greatest worry so to show that her answer had pleased me I smiled and asked my next question in a lighter tone. "This famous penis - exactly how big is it?"

She forced a thin smile back. "I can't say exactly but you know the vibrator - it's and inch or so longer than that and one hell of a lot thicker."

Despite myself I was impressed. I had thought big but that was beyond my imaginings. It was too easy to see that a cock that size must create far more sensation than my own far more modest appendage. It was possibly feelings of inferiority which made me phrase my next question in a more accusing tone. "If you were so sure that he had knocked you up, why the hell didn't you take the morning after pill and then I need never have known?"

"It would have been cheating," she said simply. "If I had known for certain that any of the others had impregnated me I would have taken that pill like a shot - I was cheating with them and I would have cheated my way out of trouble. I fact, I can't understand why I never thought of it after the condom burst. After Errol, I felt that it was not my right to decide. It was destiny and if God decided that I should have a baby then I would just face the consequences. I may not believe in religion but I think that I do believe in some kind of God. What happened was a bit holy. You may think that there was nothing very holy about having a black man's enormous cock stuck as far up me as it would go, but there was - there really was. When the Greek Gods came down off Mount Olympus to impregnate women, I am certain that those Greek girls felt exactly as I did at the moment that it happened."

"On the promise that it will never happen again, I forgive you," I said. "We will bring the child up but I can't pretend that it is mine anymore. We will have to adopt and to prevent wagging tongues in the village, it's best that we to make out that it is nothing to do with either of us. You will have to carry on as normal for as long as possible but when you start to show, I think that an extended holiday at the coast with your parents is the answer. When the baby is born we will bring it back here together and say that it came from an adoption agency. The only danger is stopping the kids from giving anything away."

That is how it worked out. We immediately launched into social activity and let it be known that we were considering adopting a disadvantaged child. Also brought up casually in conversation was a mention that Adele's ageing parents were unwell and likely to be in need of support. The weather conspired with us allowing my wife to wear concealing summer dresses far longer than calculated and I was left alone to look after the three kids for a period of only two months before the school holidays. Thankfully I packed them off to their mother at the seaside and only a month later, the baby joined in the plot by arriving two weeks early. At that point I took a fortnight's holiday to join my family and when we returned home we brought with us a chocolate coloured baby asleep in a carrycot.

 I had rather desperately hoped that it would be a girl but, as with most things these days, events turned out the opposite of my hopes. We called him Paul. From an aesthetic point of view, I did enjoy watching Adele breast-feeding him, the sight of his brown coloration against her fair skin being surprisingly pleasing. He woke early one morning crying and when my wife brought him to our bed, investigation showed that a leaking nappy had soaked all of his night-clothes. She stripped and dried him then put to suckle. I liked seeing them both naked with Paul on her tit so much that afterwards I deliberately engineered similar situations. On the other hand, sight of his private parts tended to distress me. I know that a baby boy's genitalia is grossly oversized but seeing that at only a few months old, in balls and prick department, he was not much smaller than myself, seemed damned unfair. I knew that Paul was taking after his father - at least in that way.

The kids were surprised at the colour of their little brother but none really questioned until some four months after the birth, Colin my eldest pulled me to one side and asked me bluntly, "Dad, why is Paul black?"

I tried to explain about heredity and saying how genes can lurk within a family tree for years and then suddenly pop out. As evidence I quoted birthmarks and hereditary diseases which regularly skip one or more generations. He seemed to accept my argument but his, 'If you say so Dad,' left me feeling that he was less than convinced.

We had settled back into a semblance of our old family life except for the disruption that a tiny baby inevitably brings. The addition to our family had passed without comment in the village but I had decided that it might be politic to sell up and move somewhere else in the near future. I felt that moving would reduce the risk of exposure and with nothing, (apart from Paul), to remind me of the trauma, I could put the past behind me.

One evening Adele said, "I do feel guilty about Carla and the girls - I did break with them rather abruptly. It would be nice to make contact just to give an explanation."

I must explain that the ex-wives evening following Adele's encounter with Errol had been cancelled because the other four were invited to a wedding by someone who did not know my wife. She had then confessed to me only days before due to go on another mid month night away. At my insistence Adele had written a cryptic note to Carla to say that she would not be staying again. She said that she must resign as an honorary member of the ex wives club, or else run the risk of qualifying for full membership. "Go give her a ring if it will make you happy," I agreed.




Trying To Do The Decent Thing



Adele went to the phone but said, "I doubt if she still lives at the flat, her fiancé was due back for good just before last Xmas and they were going to get married. Perhaps the new people will have a forwarding address."

I was wandering towards the kitchen intending to put the kettle on but when Adele cried excitedly, "Carla, this is marvellous - I thought you would have moved," I detoured to my study and quietly picked up the extension. I was in time to her say, "....be married by now".

Carla laughed. "That romance finished in a big way - and how. Clyde was due back from Saudi on the Saturday by scheduled flight with £80,000 in his pocket but unfortunately for me, he hitched a lift in a private jet with some big-wig. He got to the flat just after midnight on the Friday, let himself in and crept quietly into the bedroom hoping to surprise me. He surprised me all right. I was having a goodbye party for my five favourite studs and had just achieved an ambition. I had managed to get one stuck into each of my orifices and had taken the other two in hand when the door opened and in walked my beloved. He threw a load of packages at me and left without giving me a chance to say a thing - mind you, if he had stayed it would have been a mite difficult to explain away. Still, I was not too disappointed because I had already been wondering if I could turn my back on all my ethnic friends - I do turn my back on them all the time but you know what I mean." There was a pause while both women laughed and then Carla asked, "And what about you. What big events have been happening in your life?"

"I've had a baby - a little boy," 

"Oh that's great," Carla began to enthuse but then she stopped and said with puzzlement in her voice, "But I thought you told me that Simon had a vasectomy."

"Simon is not the father - it's Errol's."

"So that's why you stopped coming to stay. Are you still married?"

"Yes - Simon forgave me."

"Lucky you. I suppose that you had the baby adopted."

"No - Simon let me keep it. We are bringing Paul up as part of the family."

Carla let out a long breath of amazement. "That man is either a saint or the biggest fool on God's earth. If Clyde had been a bit like that he could have taken a photo of the little tableau that he walked in on - you know, record it for posterity."

This last was followed by more laughter. Up until that moment I had felt rather saintly about the way that I had handled the whole business but now I wondered if I really was a tremendous fool.  "Do you miss your nights in my spare bed with our ethnic friends," Carla asked in a different voice.

"You can't guess how much," Adele whispered. "Remember me to them - that's if you think they will remember me."

"Remember you? I'll say they remember you - they talk about you constantly and it gets quite boring. If you must know, they voted you 'Snatch of the Year'; I was bloody miffed because I thought that title was mine."

"Do you ever see Errol?" Adele asked suddenly.

"Not since you did. I heard that things got a bit dodgy and he is keeping a low profile. He's probably staying out in the sun until the trouble blows away."

"I just wondered. Anyway that's all in the past. I have got to be the model loving wife from now on - it's the least that I can do to make it up to Simon for being so good about everything."

"Not even a tiny dalliance at the end of the year. Surely things will have eased off by then."

"I couldn't even if I wanted to and remember that I have a small child now." (I felt that there was an edge of regret when Adele said that.)

"He doesn't put you in a ball and chain or a chastity belt does he."

"Maybe not physically but he has got moral constraints on me - be fair, he is entitled.

Carla laughed. "I suppose so. Anyway, I've got to go - I think that is my entertainment for the night knocking at the door. Keep in touch - I don't want to lose you again."

My wife was saying something else but I quietly replaced the handset and ran lightly up to the bathroom. Once there, I flushed the toilet and then returned downstairs, belatedly going into the kitchen to make the coffee. On balance I was happy with what I had overheard.

About a fortnight later, I returned home from work to find Adele acting in a slightly too loving way and this alerted me. Usually I had to fight my way through baby things and clear a place to sit but that night the place was tidy and my wife had handed me a drink the moment that I stepped in the door. After the meal I was told the price tag. "Carla rang this afternoon. She has told Errol about Paul and now he wants to see his son."

"Because you told Carla when you spoke to her before."

Adele looked suspiciously at me. "How do you know that?"

I had slipped up. "It makes sense that you did and why not, I hadn't told you not to. I wish now though that we had kept the knowledge strictly to ourselves."

"I've said that I will take Paul along to the park in Fricton tomorrow afternoon. Errol can see him there," she said looking at me with uncertainty in her eyes.

"No you won't," I told her.

"Yes I will," she snapped back defiantly. "Simon - he is entitled."

"I know that he is entitled and you know I would not argue against that. He can come here. Look at the weather - it's been pouring down for the last two days and the forecast is the same for tomorrow. If Errol is going to meet his son he can do it in civilised surroundings and not in some grotty park." My motive for making this concession was a feeling that to survive the whole business with Paul, I had to continue behaving decently - but I have to admit that a whole batch of ulterior motives were following closely behind. First I had a wish to restrict the ability of Adele and her ex lover to converse freely - though they did not seem to have done much talking the last time that they met. The second was a reasonable wish to get an idea of what Paul was likely to become but the last reason was less admirable and I do not feel inclined to specify.

My wife's face lit up with gratitude but she said, "Perhaps he won't want to come here."

"If he wants to see his son he'll come. You get on the phone to Carla - tell her twelve o'clock. That gives three hours before the kids are due back from school."

His timing was so exact that he must have been waiting outside. I let Adele answer the door and then stood up as she led him in. My heart sank because he was my worst fears personified. At least six inches taller than me, he was long and lean with a hard looking very black face. He had a mass of long dreadlocks sticking out in all directions, topped by one of those large bulbous woollen hats, which seem to belong on black men but would look comical on any other race. He seemed about seven feet tall and was of the type that I instinctively tried to avoid. Controlling my prejudice, I put out my hand to shake hands. Possibly equally nervous, Errol had started to give me some kind of slapped hand greeting. Both of realised the others intent and tried to correct with the result that we again finished up with opposite gestures. A slight smile broke out on his face removing the menace from it and I found that I was smiling too. "We can't keep on like this all day," I said. "Why don't you sit down and make yourself comfortable."

He thanked me in a surprisingly cultured voice but with a heavy lilt and chose a position on the settee. I then said, "Can I get you a drink Errol while my wife fetches your son." Despite my effort to sound casual, the words came out in a very stilted manner. He would only accept a fruit juice, which I served while Adele went upstairs for Paul. She seemed to be a long time - possibly changing a nappy. The silence seemed to hang between forcing me to the inane remark, "Nasty weather we hare having."

Errol nodded but understandably did not feel a need to reply. I could see that he was studying me. His eyes contained neither respect nor contempt but more a kind of puzzlement - perhaps a great many men would be equally baffled by my acceptance of this man in my home. Adele came in carrying Paul and Errol stood up holding out his arms to take him. From the look on his face at that moment, I knew that I had done the right thing. No matter what harm this man had done me by impregnating my wife; it would have been indecent to deny him that moment.

With Errol bouncing his son on his knee, we chatted fairly normally. I told him something about my work as an estate agent and he talked about life in Jamaica without ever mentioning what he did for a living. I described our three other children and Errol talked happily about his own offspring in the West Indies but made no reference to a wife. After a time Paul started to get bored with this new entertainment and began to grizzle. 

With our first three children the midwives advice had been to get the baby on the bottle early and in consequence we had weaned all three off the breast in under three months. In the intervening period it seemed that the prevailing wisdom had changed because Adele claims that she was told to continue breast-feeding as long as possible. My wife had also sat on the settee, not close to the tall black man but near enough to reassure the baby. I should have been prepared but it came as a complete shock when Adele unbuttoned her blouse, calmly took out a breast and then reaching Paul from his father's knee, put the baby to the teat. I don't why I my emotions should have reacted so violently. Errol had seen it before, and more - so why was I so offended? At the same time I had ambivalent feelings because on another level it seemed so right, natural - mother, father and child in a group together. Unable to stand the mental dichotomy I stood up. "The rain seems to have eased off," I said. "I am popping out in the garden for a cigarette and to check what damage the weather has done to the plants." Let them talk I thought - after overhearing the telephone conversation, I felt that I could trust her.

I stayed outside for quite a while and when I returned, Adele was respectable again and the baby winded and asleep on the seat between them. Errol left soon afterwards but before leaving he grasped by hand in a firm grip and thanked me sincerely. I falsely told him that it had been a pleasure but this rather contrived remark seemed to give him the courage to ask, "Could I perhaps see Paul again in the future from time to time?" I had more regarded this as a one-off event but at that moment it seemed churlish to refuse his request.

I did not ask Adele what they had talked about but the main content soon became apparent when she said, "Errol would like to have his name put on Paul's birth certificate if you don't object."

The father name had been left blank and I felt it only proper that Errol's name should be upon it but I used this opportunity to put into motion a plan which had been in my mind for several months. "I will agree but only if Errol undertakes not to raise any objection to me formally adopting our son," I stipulated.

My wife passed on these conditions to Errol via Carla and two weeks later we got a solicitors letter giving the required undertaking upon which I arranged a legal change to the birth document and set adoption procedures in motion. Trustingly I believed that these events resultant from the visit by Paul's father had healed the cracks in my marriage and set a seal on the past.

Just less than a month later I woke just about dawn. I had made love to my wife earlier in the night and usually slept exceptionally soundly following these occasions but movement in the bed had woken me. Adele had thrown her covers off and lay with splayed thighs and her hand working frantically at her crotch. As I watched, her upper body heaved and her breath came in gusts from her nose as she climaxed with lips clenched to prevent herself from uttering noise. My assumption was that she had simply masturbated with her hand as I often did when unable to sleep - but when she extracted the vibrator from some place deep within her it put a different complexion upon her activity. With the love toy tucked under her pillow, she pulled the duvet back into place and went immediately to sleep with a beatific expression on her face.

This turned out not to be an isolated occurrence because I often began to be rudely awakened in similar manner, invariably on the nights when I had claimed my conjugal rights. On every occasion I simulated sleep, watching through lidded eyes but the time came when compassion made me break my cover. Adele could not make herself cum but she would not give up. With brow beaded with sweat and growing desperation on her face, she kept having to pause when cramp seized the muscles of her arm. I leaned towards her and putting my hand between her legs, I said softly, "Let me do that."

The eyes in her perspiration covered face flicked open registering both surprise and gratitude. Adele moved her hand allowing mine to replace it and lay back, surrendering to my ministrations. I quickly picked up a rhythm - though possibly not a fast or as deep as she would have liked because she remained quite agitated. I was already affected by her heady vaginal odour and the action of my hand when I saw her erect clitoris begging for attention and with my own passion surging, I clamped my lips around it. The effect was almost immediate. My wife's legs clamped tight around my neck, she let out a long piercing cry sufficient to wake the dead and her body bucked as if riding a horse as wave after wave of orgasm flooded through her. As her sensations subsided, with a voice choked with passion she gasped, "Oh God, This is what I need." 

I was on the pint of blacking out before her thighs finally released my head. I felt wonderful, I felt triumphant because that had been by far the biggest climax that I had ever given her. Affectionately I sought her face with my eyes, expecting to see love, passion or satisfaction returned but all that I saw was acute embarrassment. She said, "Thank you," tersely and then abruptly turned her back on me and curled herself into a ball. My initial pleasure of achievement quickly evaporated as I realised the meaning of this implied rejection of me. Adele had been trying to recreate the pleasures given by her black lovers including Errol - possibly exclusively him and the knowledge that I had been complicit in this act disgusted me. 

These middle on the night self fucking sessions grew more frequent and she had increasing trouble achieving satisfaction. Foolishly I took a sadistic pleasure in her plight and lay simulating sleep, stoically refusing my help. On two occasions I fell asleep leaving her quietly sobbing to herself.

Although I could easily get home for lunch every day I usually continued working, finding that there tended to be a lot of queries during that period. In compensation, I sometimes allowed myself an afternoon of golf, feeling that my diligence left me morally free to do so. Going home at midday to get some documents I had perused the previous evening and then forgotten, I found Adele pushing the pram out of the village. It was not worth stopping so I drove ahead and put the kettle on ready. When she got home, I quite naturally enquired where she had been. "To see the doctor," she said, giving me the impression that she would rather that I had not known."

"Is it Paul?" I asked, immediately concerned and when she shook her head I said, "I knew that you weren't right - you've been so edgy lately."

"There is nothing wrong with my health," Adele told me in a flat voice. "I got him to put me on the pill - that's all."

"The pill," I repeated incredulously. "But I thought..."

"They are a lot safer than they used to be. It's not like when I gave up before," she interrupted as if that was my objection. "Nowadays they check your heart, blood pressure and haemoglobin, and prescribe a pill that is tailored for you. The doctor says that they are perfectly safe now."

"But why?"

Adele shook her head helplessly but did not answer my question directly. "I thought that I might occasionally stop overnight with Carla again."

"But you promised."

"I know I promised Simon and I honestly meant it but I am slowly going crazy," she said looking me in the eye for the first time. I am perfectly happy except one thing - I remember how they made me feel and the thought of never feeling that way again for the rest of my life, fills me with absolute panic. I love you but it makes me want to get into the car and just drive away. You know how much I love the kids - so if I can consider doing that to them must show you how I feel."


"What exactly are you asking me?"

"I want to spend nights with Carla's friends again. Just occasionally - not like before, not even once a month a month, just occasionally. It is being able to do it not the frequency that is important. I love you - even more since you have been so understanding but this has got nothing to do with love. It's a need that I seem to have and I can't adjust my mind to the thought of never being able to do anything about it."

"It's Errol isn't it - you want to go with him again."

"No it isn't Errol although I can't deny that I would like to go with him again. I have no idea where he is and I'm certainly not going to the West Indies looking for him. I don't want to hurt you Simon but I want to be happy and I can't be contented with you while I have an unsatisfied ache inside me."

I loved her too much - that was my trouble and it seemed preferable to give way in a small way than run the risk of losing her altogether. But taking one step down a slippery path makes it easy to take another. It becomes progressively harder to make a stand because each new point of issue seems relatively trivial compared to what has already been conceded. "How often," I asked her.

"Every three months. I don't know what I need; every six months might be enough or even once a year. As I said, the most important thing is knowing that I can."

"I will agree to three months," I said.

Adele's face suffused with relief and happiness. She rushed forward to kiss me and when we finally broke the clinch she whispered coyly, "Paul will be asleep soon - do you have to go back to work this afternoon?"

My wife had the grace to wait until after she had shown her gratitude to me before ringing Carla. In a way it was a relief when they fixed up for only two nights later because that waiting time was bad enough with Adele's morose tenseness having transferred itself to me. I know now that it is infinitely easier to give permission than live through the consequences of the license that you have granted.

I won't dwell on how I got through that Friday night. Adele tried to give me an extra loving kiss before she left to catch her bus but I was too tense to respond properly and then almost immediately started pouring whiskey down my throat. Despite being many times over the limit, I found sleep impossible and got up again to watch erotic movies. In my befuddled the knowledge of what my wife was doing seemed as unreal as the images on the box and I times I almost convinced myself that this was all imagination and that she was really only visiting her parents.

Next morning she returned relaxed and happy, and this joyous mood continued day after day. It was more than three weeks before signs of irritability returned and soon after she was back to ramming the vibrator up herself in the small wee hours. Now I joined in to help and thoroughly enjoyed doing so, greatly extending my oral participation. When she had finished, my reward was to lick her internal secretions always thickly coated on the plastic prick while she used her hand to bring me to climax. Had I started these activities before I might have prevented Adele returning to her old ways but now it only delayed the inevitable. My life compared with before her 'release' was so far improved that when, only two months later, she begged for another night out I readily agreed. Forgetting my misery on the night, it seemed a small price to pay.




Trying To Do The Decent Thing



This time I let her go more easily mainly because I had provided myself with ammunition for the night. Some weeks previously mistaking the address of a property I was to handle, I wandered into a back-street shop with pornographic videos lining the walls. I had now been back and paid fifteen pounds for a film that I hoped might be stronger than the TV offering. While choosing my video, I was intrigued when someone paid £50 for a wrapped cartridge produced from under the counter after saying the code word ' Amsterdam'. I resolved that on my next visit, this was something to investigate.

I had paid my cash for very little because my video turned little better than the TV but this convinced me that the under the counter stuff had to be what I was after. Some three weeks later Adele said, "I wish that I hadn't been greedy and had stuck to three months because I would be going to stay with Carla this Friday. There is a famous rap singer on at the club and now I am going to miss him." 

It was partly thoughts of a really good video that prompted me to tell her that she could go anyway. The porn video cost me £60 but I felt that it was worth every penny. I could not believe the cock sizes, I could not believe the women and I couldn't believe the things that they did. I watched it through three times and could not leave my nob alone for a second. Without real shame I admit that the knowledge that Adele was engaging in similar activity enhanced my depraved pleasure.

Over the following months my moral disintegration continued. To understand this I must talk about marital sex. I had never been pre-occupied with sex, feeling it to be just something that you did at the appropriate time. Even in bed I preferred the foreplay, the sucking and squeezing to the actual act of vaginal penetration and I got more pleasure before my vasectomy when we had indulged in a preponderance of oral and anal activity. To me, the act of sticking my dick inside her twat was an anti climax. It was the traditional finale but I always felt it left something to be desired. Now I thought of sex constantly and Adele gave me more physical sensation than at any time in our marriage. She brought me off a lot with her hand but if you are thinking in terms of just a wrist job you are mistaken. What Adele did with her talented fingers had less comparison to a wank than a gourmet meal has to a pot noodle. I felt more alive than at any time in my life.

My wife's nights away came back to the old fortnightly regularity but I did attempt to make one more stand and that came when Adele said that she wanted to take Paul to London for a weekend to see his father.  

"That was not the agreement," I insisted. "Errol can see Paul as much as he likes but it has got to be in this house."

"I know that is what he agreed but it's not really fair," she argued. "Errol is happy for Paul to be brought up in a white family and call you Dad but he would like him to at least be exposed to his West Indian heritage and culture. Besides which, he can only get to this country for a short time and it is a long way for him to travel up here for just a few hours. It would be nice if he could play with Paul in a relaxed situation and he can't really do that here even though you do tactfully make yourself scarce for a while."

Against such inescapable logic I had no other option. Neither of us mentioned how she would spend the two nights but she returned looking exceedingly well fucked and contented - much more so in fact than after nights at Carla's when I suspected she again had at least a pair rampant males satisfying her needs. There were two further London weekends and towards the end of the year I even allowed Adele to take Paul to Jamaica for two weeks. For that same fortnight, I treated my kids to Disneyland in Florida, the fact that her lover was paying my wife's expenses for her holiday making this possible.

You may wonder why I do not commit my own revenge infidelities or maybe you believe that it is inadequacy or fear of rejection that prevents me. The truth is that Adele is all that I want and it is just my misfortune that she discovered she requires others beside myself to satisfy her needs.

At one point, the video I that had purchased at my back street shop featured nothing except black men with white women with just the odd reverse combination. It was a revelation, allowing me to exactly picture Adele in her separate existence from me. None of the previous porno films had excited me half as much and from then on I bought only videos with the same theme. These were in theory were more expensive but by then, as a regular customer I was getting discount and given cash back on those I returned - so it actually worked out cheaper.

It is human nature to adapt, compromise, assimilate new ideas and even derive a vicarious pleasure from what started as pain. When Adele returned from her holiday she stated that she no longer needed her nights in her friends flat as long as I continued to allow her to go with Errol whenever he was in the country. "If it still bothers you I will give the others a miss from now on," she said.

Her words filled me with panic because by then I think that I looked forward to those Friday nights more avidly than she. Thankfully I think she put my encouragement for her to continue as another sign of my easygoing nature rather than suspecting that I was, mentally at least, deeply involved in her activities.

There was a thought that had been bobbing about in my head for quite a while and the opportunity arose to bring it out into the open. As she was about to leave one Friday evening I said, "As the kids are away at your parents this weekend, what about you coming home a bit earlier tomorrow morning and slipping into bed with me for an hour or two?"

Adele shook her head. "Sorry love. I get home as soon as I can anyway - I need to take a nice long shower to clean myself up before I come back to you."

I took a deep breath. "There's no need," I said.