85 comments/ 211489 views/ 27 favorites Too Far By: rpsuch You probably don’t want to read further if you are looking for graphic depiction of sex acts. If you’re looking for graphic depiction of ideas, enjoy. I am not a stupid man. No doubt many of you will disagree when you understand the situation in which I found myself. I had the hubris to believe that I was perceptive and insightful. Had this been true, things would have happened very differently. From the first I knew that Carol was willful. When she wanted something, there were few things she would not do to get it. She played it down while we were dating. She almost made it seem admirable, this single-mindedness in pursuit of a goal. I guess when she decided she wanted me, she pursued me with the same zeal. It was certainly flattering to be pursued, but there was much more to it than that. She was very attractive, intelligent and had a wide range of interests, which made her fun to be with. Truth be told, she had a very nice body although that would have gotten her no more than a first look had she not possessed the rest of the package. She loved to show off the physical package. She bought her clothes according to the SLoT principle, short, low cut and tight. An important part of the experience of going out for Carol was that she be noticed and admired by other men. I think she got an even bigger charge when she got envious looks from other women. She watched her diet and worked out assiduously to make sure that she would remain an object of interest. No amount of reassurance from me would suffice to convince her she was still hot. She required outside validation. The early years of our marriage were filled with fun. Carol loved to travel and I had no serious objection, so we did. She would do the research and make the plans. It was actually nice for someone else to have to be in charge sometimes. She would also plan, and insist on, the theater. But what guy wouldn’t gladly go along with a woman who would not only watch any sport I chose, but could discuss it knowledgeably? We still had a good marriage, but our blissful, all right happy, married existence was disrupted when I took a job with a computer consulting firm which started sending me out of town frequently. There was nothing we could do about it. Jobs were scarce, let alone good jobs, and we couldn’t pay the bills on Carol’s income alone. Although we had no children, it had been in our plans. But we agreed that it would be unfair to place most of the burden on Carol while I had to spend so much time away and postponed the thought of any additions to our family. I can’t say that I remember many of the nights on the road with any particularity. They run together. The memory of a single night might really just be pieces of many nights jumbled together, like the night I saw those two gorgeous young blondes showing themselves off at a Red Lobster. Nobody has to go to the bathroom that many times during one meal. They walked slowly. They wiggled. I had time to take it all in. I had arrived before them. After ordering, I got to sit at my table and await my meal. I was at the table alone. I had no book to read. I had no dinner partner with whom to share conversation. I was alone with my thoughts. I speculated as to how many people were looking at me and wondering if this was the loser’s big night out. No one else ate alone. They all got to share conversation. People would laugh, point at each other; perhaps one would touch another as they spoke. Sometimes I would see someone looking at me. Were they judging? Did it matter? I knew I wasn’t a loser but I felt desperately alone, isolated. As they passed, the blondes would cast a sidelong glance, as if making eye contact would make some of whatever caused me to be alone rub off on them. After dinner I went to a minor league baseball game. I love to watch baseball. Thousands of little details make up each game. I sat there among the couples, groups and families. Whatever interest they might have had in the game, they shared their experience. They could have been sharing it somewhere else. It didn’t matter. Sharing the experience let them know they were not alone, that they had each other to rely on, to care for. That was not my experience. I had myself and the baseball. I’m not really sure I saw that game the same night I saw the two girls. I’m not even sure what city they called home. Time on the road was mostly a black and white collage of meaningless moments. When you are happily married and on the road, the emptiness of the experience is easy to recognize. You can call your wife every night. What can you say about your day? “I had lunch alone and got back to work and figured out that much of the sales information can be shared with the marketing department.” You can tell her you had dinner in the restaurant last night and went back to your room to watch TV. You ask how her day was without you. This scintillating exchange is not the stuff that binds relationships. At best it keeps them on life support. At least she has her friends at home. You are alone. You are likely to meet some attractive and engaging young women during the course of your work. You can’t date them. Even if they were willing to save you from the overbearing solitude, it wouldn’t be fair to them – the relationship can go nowhere, and it wouldn’t be fair to your wife. Such is the carefree existence of a road warrior. Sometimes you will go to the hotel bar for a drink. It’s not that you want to drink. But being there among other living, breathing, talking, laughing people is a better reminder that there is life out there in which you might someday participate than just locking yourself away in your cell. Occasionally you will have the opportunity to dance with someone. What a refreshing change it is to be able to share some conversation. It needn’t lead anywhere. It won’t lead anywhere. But it is human contact. Perhaps I slightly overstate the case. I remember three evenings to distinguish them with sufficient clarity from all the other amorphous nights. Carol had noticed the effects that being away had on me. Occasionally she would sneak something into my suitcase to cheer me up, sometimes a candy bar, sometimes a note to remind me that she missed me as well. On one trip she included a note that promised me a surprise. It was my third week in Chicago and I was having dinner in the hotel restaurant. As I was waiting for my onion soup, looking at the other patrons and wondering what they were thinking about the lonely guy, I heard a woman’s voice to my left. “Simon, Simon Newsome.” I turned and saw an attractive 5’4’ brunette, early 30’s, about ten pounds north of perfect. Engagement and wedding ring on the fourth finger of her left hand. Stupid, isn’t it? I’m not in any way available, but that glance to check is almost involuntary. “I’m sorry I can’t place the face. Do I know you? “ “No, you don’t. My name’s Annie Carson. My old friend Carol Newsome asked me to have dinner with you tonight. That wasn’t her name when we were friends in college, but I hear she’s gotten married to a good-looking guy since then. Do you mind if I join you?” “Of course not.” I was stunned. “Carol said you eat by yourself a lot and she wanted you to have company for once.” “Wow. She is something special.” “Yes, she is. You’re a lucky guy.” “Amazing. I think this is the most incredible gift I’ve ever gotten.” “You don’t know the half of it. She harassed me until I rearranged my whole schedule so I could meet you here.” “Carol doesn’t know how to take no for an answer.” “No, she doesn’t. It took her five phone calls to make this happen.” “It’s good to know how important it is to her to take care of me.” “It is. You know, you have a nice smile Simon. Remember to tell that to Carol. She gave you that smile. You sure didn’t have one when I came in.” “I’m going to have to thank her properly when I get home.” “She mentioned that. She said she’ll be waiting in her little black nightie for you to thank her when you get home.” An attractive man came up to our table. I have no interest in men, but I can distinguish attractive from ordinary. “Simon, this is my husband Richard.” I rose and we shook hands. “You seem surprised, Simon,” she said. “Did you think your wife was going to set you up with a beautiful temptress while you’re lonely and far away from home?” She giggled. “Richard is here as our chaperone. You didn’t have any improper thoughts, did you?” “Of course not. That never crossed my mind.” I stammered. “You fluster so easily. Carol was right.” I had one of my best nights on the road just having dinner with Annie and Richard. It wasn’t just that I got to have dinner with enjoyable company, Carol had been thoughtful enough to set it up. I thanked her copiously when I got home. On another trip a memorable incident occurred. I had just finished a swing dance with a fortyish woman whose husband was more interested in drinking than dancing. They were both grateful that I had danced with her although for entirely different reasons. “It’s so nice to dance with an attractive young man,” she told me. “I’m not that young and you’re not that old.” “You look like you’re barely out of college.” “That statement suggests to me that you may have had too much to drink.” She laughed. It was an attractive laugh. “I’m 35. College was quite some time ago.” She glanced back at her dormant husband. “If I were a few years younger and I didn’t have Fred here along, I’d show you a memorable night.” “I’m married. And it has already been memorable.” She emitted an elongated, satisfied sigh. “Your wife is a lucky woman. With talk like that you could get laid any time you want.” “I just want to get home. But you have helped make my absence more bearable. Thank you for dancing with me. Maybe Fred is feeling some of that absence.” “I wish,” she said as she walked reluctantly back to him. I returned to my drink. I was not as good looking as she had suggested. I was just younger and more engaged than Fred. I’m not bad looking, but I’m also nothing special. The only thing at all remarkable about me is that I have a pretty good build. When I’m on the road, it’s easier to forget that I’m lonely when working out in the weight room. So I do it a lot. The side effect was that I had enough lean muscle to make it possible to eat a lot of restaurant food without putting on much flab. I looked up from my drink and saw a vibrant redhead carrying a drink and moving purposefully in my direction. Some lucky guy was going to receive some very pleasant attention. It turned out to be me. “Hi, I’m Sandy.” She reached out to shake my hand. “You’re a good dancer. Mind if I sit down and talk for a while?” Mind? She was the most gorgeous woman I had seen in all my time on the road. She was the stuff of fantasies. “Sure, if you’d like. It would be my pleasure.” That was a substantial understatement. “I don’t get out much and I thought it would be nice to talk and maybe dance with a good-looking young guy.” Okay, I needed a mirror now. Either I was inhabiting someone else’s body or someone had stamped “young guy” on my forehead. She was no more than 25 and could have had any guy in the room. I even think she was hot enough to bring Fred out of hibernation. Why was she coming on to me? “Well, you’re in luck. I know how to both dance and talk. Sometimes simultaneously.” “And a sense of humor too. Just the kind of guy I’d like to spend some time with.” As she said that, she touched my hand for a moment. I didn’t know how to respond. This made no sense. If she had gotten to know my intelligence, sense of humor and charm before, maybe she could have had a legitimate interest in me. But based purely on looks, without knowing anything about me I didn’t understand how she could be interested. There were several younger, better looking guys just in this bar. How did she focus on me? My curiosity and suspicion resulted in a silence that threatened to become protracted. She saved the day. “Why don’t we dance?” I stood and offered her my hand. We walked to the dance floor for some swing. When the dance was finished, the house band switched to something slow. I tried to start back to the table, but she held onto my left hand and put her left arm around my neck. Okay. I can dance slow. Sandy didn’t seem to understand that this was a dance. She moved her head toward me so that her right cheek rested against mine. She let go of my left hand with her right and moved it around my neck as well. She moved herself in closer and suddenly I had grown breasts, albeit in the wrong direction. When she moved her hips in, it ceased being dancing and became frottage. It was making me very uncomfortable, particularly as I became aware that if this were to be prolonged, I would likely evidence a socially undesirable response. Mercifully, the song ended before I succumbed and I managed to recapture our table with her clinging to me. Had I been single, we would have immediately departed for my room. I would have capitulated to this irresistible beauty and thrown caution to the winds. But I wasn’t single and that represented an immovable obstacle to me. “You know my name but I don’t know yours. There can be something exciting and dangerous about that, but I think I would prefer to know your name if you would be willing to part with it.” If she had ended the sentence with “withal,” I would have thought she was reciting Shakespeare. “I’m Simon.” “I find you very attractive, Simon.” Why? Maybe she was just a hot single girl out to get laid. But the question remained, why me? My radar had been activated. There was something wrong here even if I couldn’t ascertain what it was. In the mean time, I had nothing to lose by acknowledging the compliment. “Thank you. That’s a nice thing to say.” “I’m very serious, Simon.” She took my hands in hers. “I’d enjoy spending the night with you.” Why? Am I some kind of idiot? A staggeringly beautiful woman wants to spend the night with me and my reaction is to look around for the candid camera. It didn’t matter anyway. Even if my radar had not been engaged, there was a predetermined resolution to this invitation. “I’m attracted to you too, Sandy. Hell, so is every man in the room and probably quite a few of the women. But I’m married.” “I know. I saw the ring. You’re obviously staying here alone. You’re out of town on business. It’s just a fling. She’ll never know. What’s the harm?” “I’ll know. It’s wrong whether she finds out or not.” “Relax. You’re out here by yourself. You spend all this lonely time on the road. You deserve a diversion. And I’m sure I would have a nice time too.” “I’m sorry, Sandy, I can’t. I mean, I guess I’m not even really sorry. It’s just not something I can do.” “Anything you want, Simon. Any way you want. I can be unforgettable.” She spoke sincerely and seductively. She knew how get to a man. There was a distinct possibility that she had never in her life been refused. Until now. “I made some promises when I got married and one of them covers this situation, Sandy. When I give my word, and it is within my power to keep my word, I keep it. You are absolutely the most beautiful, sensual, seductive woman I have ever met, including my wife. But this is something I will not do. God knows I’m going to remember the opportunity I blew, but I won’t do it.” She seemed very surprised and yet something in her reaction also seemed a little pleased. I couldn’t explain it but I’m sure that’s what I saw. Of course, I’ve been wrong before. “I’m sorry to hear that, but I understand. Your wife is a lucky woman.” “You’re the second woman to say that tonight. Could I get a testimonial to take home?” What a delightful laugh she had. “Don’t worry. I’ll put it all in my report.” A sense of humor too. “You’ll need the correct spelling of my name.” As enjoyable as this repartee was, I excused myself to return to my room. Now my only problem was whether to tell Carol about the incident. If she were to find out, my explanation for not telling her would be that nothing happened and that she wouldn’t have believed me anyway. Why would such a stunning woman come on to me? If I did tell her, she might give me a hard time. She would doubt Sandy’s beauty and she might accuse me of trying to flirt. I guess it wasn’t that difficult a decision after all. To someone observing us from the outside, it probably looked like Carol was the dominant partner in our relationship. Come to think of it, it probably looked that way to Carol too. She got her way most of the time. It wasn’t that I didn’t have the backbone to stand up to her. It was that the things about which we disagreed were usually much more important to Carol than to me. For example, I don’t know why, but I can’t stand green in a home. It is a lovely color for a forest, but I don’t think it belongs indoors. Despite knowing that, Carol had her heart set on a lime green loveseat. To me it was a puke green affirmation of bad taste. But it made her happy and I was away often enough that I decided to live with it. I must have seemed even more spineless when it came time for Carol to replace her car. I drove a Honda hybrid. It is my feeling that, since they aren’t making any more dinosaurs, we have a responsibility to use as little oil as we can to accomplish what we need. Carol had her heart set on an SUV, a Ford Explorer. She argued that the planet could afford it because I was driving the hybrid. It wasn’t just the mileage for me, it was how they make driving more dangerous. You can’t see past them making it impossible to scout out and plan for possible traffic difficulties ahead. I was fairly passionate on both issues, but finally decided that, even if I paid the personal price Carol would exact for losing the argument, other people would keep buying the damn things and my sacrifice would not gain anything in the end. As I have said, Carol was relentless when she wanted something. But, to her surprise, she discovered that I was not a complete pushover. If the matter were important enough to me, I could be more than intractable, I might go on the offensive. I think she came to that conclusion the day she told me she wanted to buy some expensive lingerie. I told her that we could not afford it. She immediately jumped into action. “I know how we can afford it.” “Here we go again.” But I was likely to give in and do without something we needed if she were sufficiently committed to making my life miserable. “You can pad your expenses. Below a certain amount they don’t even require receipts.” “That’s stealing.” “Not really. They expect everybody to bump up their expenses.” “No they don’t. They expect honesty.” “Don’t be so naïve. Everybody does it.” “I don’t.” “Don’t give me such a hard time. You always give me such a hard time. I’m asking for something trivial and you get all in my face with this honesty at all costs crap.” “Who are you? Do you hear what you’re saying?” “You don’t have to yell,” she said. “You think this is yelling? Keep it up and you’ll hear yelling. You’re being petty, petulant, abusive and singularly selfish. Some people try to live their lives according to what they believe and you want me to throw it away for a fucking nightgown? I know how you can afford to buy it. Divorce me and get enough in the settlement to buy whatever you want. You’re always pushing the limits, Carol, and this time you’ve gone too far. What are you, a teenager?” “Calm down! It’s not that important. Geez, don’t go talking about divorce over a nightgown. Talk about escalating the argument. Where did divorce come from?” “When you tell me I have to violate my beliefs to keep you happy, the only logical answer I can give you is that you’re going to have to be happy without me, because I won’t do it.” Too Far Away From Home I was staying in a hotel, but I wasn't staying in the room alone. I was texting a friend back and forth, sexting I guess you would say. Earlier that day I'd been in the room alone and taken advantage of the opportunity to sit on the floor before the full length mirror and spread my legs wide for him. I sent those pictures and more of my erect nipples and my ass in the air with my pucker and pussy exposed. The hotel was 800 miles away from him, and it seemed like the distance made me hornier than I'd ever been. I knew as much as I wanted him, he was actually unable to meet my needs immediately. My pussy ached deeply, hungry for his cock. There was nothing I could do about it! I didn't have a dildo or a vibrator. I hadn't brought any toys with me at all, but I needed something in my pussy. Finally I settled on a lotion bottle. It was about 4" tall and bulbous around the top, more slender at the bottom. It was still full of lotion, so I made sure the lid was screwed on tight. I had a video he sent me. He was playing with his cock, softly touching it, rubbing the backs of his fingers up and down his shaft, and lifting his balls for me so I could see them fall back down with a slight bounce. They were so full, and all of that was for me. I groaned as I watched the video because I wanted so badly for him to empty his load into my mouth or my pussy. His video made me think about every naughty, dirty thing I wanted to do with him, and there were so many to think about! I was in the bathroom alone with the door locked. I sat on the lid of the toilet with my legs spread wide and balanced my phone on the counter against a box of tissues so I could see the video. I set it to repeat play over and over. I spread my plump pussy lips open with my right hand. Relaxing my muscles so the wide bottle would squeeze inside my very tight, neglected pussy, I pushed it in slowly. I felt a pinch of pain and the thickest part of the bottle eased inside my wet, little hole. Once it was inside, my pussy seemed to swallow it up. Because it was so short, when I looked with my mirror, I could barely see the end of the bottle through the widened opening to the shallow depths of my pussy. I pressed my ass down against my hard, plastic seat, and I felt the bottle inside my pussy press against my g-spot. I let out a moan in response and did it again and again. As I continued humping down onto the toilet seat, I reached between my labia with the fingers of my left hand and found my plump, erect clit. He'd always told me my clit was unlike any he'd ever seen. It was fat, long and response, and somehow demure and feminine, hiding beneath it's concealing hood. I pulled my hood slightly back with the middle finger of my right hand. I dipped my left index finger into the juices flowing from my aroused pussy, and I used those as lubricant as I began to stroke my wanton little clit. I pushed my hips up and back down again, moaning quietly, so as not to wake anyone in the hotel room. My body responded quickly to his video and the ministrations of my hands. I wanted to drag my orgasm out, tease myself and make myself wait for it for minutes upon minutes. But it felt too good, and I couldn't slow myself down like usual. Instead my I brought my middle finger down on one side of my clit with my index finger on the other and began to stroke back and forth, rubbing my hood against my clit softly and quickly. I rubbed with increasing pressure and intensity. Then I reached down with my right hand and placed it at the entrance to my tunnel. Using my inner muscles, I pushed the lotion bottle out of my pussy. I began to pump it in and out with my right hand. I was writhing against the toilet lid, struggling not to let myself scream as I felt a strong and powerful orgasm approaching. Soon the intensity was too much to bear. I stopped rubbing and instead squeezed my legs closed for a second, humping the hands squeezed between my thighs, tightly tucked against my sensitive pussy. I needed to cum! I had to finish and make myself cum! I opened my legs again and focused only on my clit, using fingers from both hands. I drew circles around my pulsing clit with my fingers, left then right, in quick succession, over and over again. Finally it was more than my hot, horny pussy could take, and I reached the apex of my little mountain. I used two fingers on my left hand to finish rubbing out my orgasm. I bit the fingers on my right hand to contain my moans and screams within my mouth and throat. I came hard! Just after my orgasm began, I felt pressure pushing downward, and I knew I was about to squirt. I didn't hold back and welcomed my ejaculation. Fluid squirted from between my labia and landed with a splash on the floor before the toilet. I had never squirted so much in my life! As I continued to rub and grind against my left hand, the thinner fluid from my squirting coated my hand and acted as a new, different lube that I used to rub myself quickly to a second orgasm. I continued to squirt until there was a sizable puddle on the floor between my feet. It was so much! I brought my fingers to my mouth and tasted my female ejaculate. It was a milky color, but almost clear, similar to coconut milk. The taste was like slightly sweet water, a little musky, and, to me, delicious. I licked my fingers clean and moaned. After wiping off my hands, I cleaned up the mess on the floor with a used towel. I ended the video and fired off a quick e-mail to the man who starred in the show. I pushed the lotion bottle out of my pussy, cleaned it and placed it back on the counter. "I just came for you soooo hard. I squirted everywhere! I wish you could have seen it. I want to squirt on your face like that one day, sitting on your face with my mouth stuffed full of your hard cock. Remember when I came like that once? I love cumming with your cock in my mouth. I need you... I need to orgasm with my pussy stuffed full of your hard, throbbing cock. I need you to lick my asshole while you rub my clit and finger fuck my pussy..." I ended the e-mail there. I could have written to him all night, but I was tired. And no matter what I e-mailed, he remained far away. I couldn't wait to get back home to fuck him again. Too Far “All right. I’ll give in on you watching.” She seemed more disappointed than angry. “At least you recognize my right to get even.” “I didn’t remotely say that. There is no right to do the wrong thing. I just said I had no right to hold it against you. As much as I have damaged our relationship, I think what you’re planning will just make it worse.” “I’ll let you know when to be gone. You'll know when it happens because you won't be getting any until then.” This wasn't right. I don't mean that what she was planning to do was not right. Of course it wasn’t. I mean that there was something out of place about this whole situation. She had taken three days to decide on an appropriate action. But she had also told me that if she ever found me cheating, she would exact her revenge. Why, then, did it take her three days to decide? Maybe she just had to build up the resolve to go through with it. But she had been fairly insistent upon me watching, and she had brought that up before. She seemed disappointed not to have extracted that concession from me, though her demeanor before and after that was angry. How long would I be cut off? This was a tactic she had used in the past to get her way. If her revenge turned out to be soon, it would probably be because she had someone in mind all along. Then there was the fact that she really hadn't responded to any of my arguments. That was typical when she was trying to get something. But in other circumstances, she would carefully consider what I had to say, respond thoughtfully and sometimes be won over to my point of view. What I had was inconclusive evidence and a bad feeling about it. I decided that I needed to collect more information in order to find out what was really going on. Maybe she was going to pretend to cheat in order to teach me a lesson. But then she wouldn't have insisted that I watch -- unless she was prepared for me to talk her out of it. Maybe this was just what she said, revenge. Maybe she had this planned all along and was just looking for the opportunity to be with him in a way that she couldn’t be blamed. Maybe she was having an affair with him while I was out of town and this was being staged so that if I caught her in the future, she could say, “It was only a one time lapse with my revenge guy and I’m sorry. It will never happen again.” Maybe it was something so twisted and devious I hadn’t even been able to imagine it. I decided that the only way I could really know would be to tape them to hear what she said and see how she acted. I had to move quickly. I had no idea when she would do this. I went to my office in the basement and searched the Web for information and specifications on surveillance equipment. I also searched for local stores where I could buy the equipment, because I didn't know if I had time to wait for it to be shipped. I decided to build redundancy into my plan, because the information was too important not to capture. I would hide cameras in our bedroom, the guest bedroom and in the den. These were the most likely places for her assignation. I suppose I could have put cameras in the living room and the recreation room, but I was trying to find out what she was doing, not bring down a spy ring. I would split the camera feeds, so that each would record on a VCR and be routed to a hard drive on my server as well. The VCRs would only tape for eight hours, and I had no idea how much time she planned to spend. My storage capacity was huge, and I could capture video for days without running out of disk space. I suppose it was possible that I was focusing on all of this to distract me from my guilt and trepidation over the damage that was being done to our marriage. Fortunately, I was in town this week, so I called in and took a personal day. Shortly after Carol left the house, I started on my errands. I dispatched them quickly, but it took the better part of the day to install the cameras and the wiring and keep the whole thing unobtrusive. The splitters and the software setup I was able to do in my office after dinner since Carol was still ignoring me. Friday afternoon, Carol called me at the office and told me not to bother coming home for dinner. She said I should spend the night somewhere else, and that she would call me when it was all right to come home. I didn't need to do anything. The software services were already installed on my network, and the recording would be motion-activated. This spying was not an adventure. It was something I felt I needed to do in order to understand the situation. I went to a restaurant for dinner, and then got a motel room. As I sat in the room looking at the blank TV screen I wondered what the hell I was doing. What kind of man would allow his wife to do what mine was doing now? A wimp! Someone who didn’t deserve to have his feelings spared. I grabbed my keys and bolted out the door. I was going to go home and stop this. I would grab him and throw him out of my house. I got as far as putting the key into the ignition before I started to think again. What was I going to say to Carol? “If you cheat on me I’m leaving you.” The problem with that is that I would also have to say, “If you don’t forgive me for cheating, I’m leaving you.” The juxtaposition of those two sentences was absurd. While the manner in which she was cheating was more hurtful, why should I be forgiven but she should not for doing the same thing? But there was more. Suppose I was successful in asserting my manhood tonight. What would stop Carol from doing this the first night I was out of town? Or every night I was out of town for that matter? I couldn’t quit my job to stay home and watch her all the time. That would be no life for either of us in any event. Then she would tell me what she had done. The only difference would be that I hadn’t voluntarily stayed away to let it happen. Or maybe she wouldn’t tell me. She’d just keep doing it until she was caught. I slid the key from the ignition. Confronting her tonight was not the solution. At best it deferred her revenge. At worst it could make the situation much more destructive to the continuation of our marriage. I exited the car and went back to the room. No workable solution came to mind. I tried to watch some TV, but found it difficult to concentrate. I was awash in apprehension. At the early hour of ten I drifted off to an uneasy sleep. I awoke at eight, but despite the passage of considerable time, I was not well rested. I dressed and went to breakfast. Carol called my cell just after nine. She was cheerful, almost ebullient. “You can come home now. I'm going shopping for the day and I won't be back until late afternoon. You’re gonna get lucky tonight big guy. See you later.” She didn't even wait for a response. As far, she was concerned, the matter had come to a successful conclusion. It ain't necessarily so. I checked out and drove home. I settled down in front of the computer and checked the VCR's. Only the one in the bedroom had logged any significant time. It hadn’t used the full eight hours. I guess they got some sleep. I was now faced with a problem I had not considered. I would have to watch her doing what I had refused to watch her doing, in order to complete my understanding of the situation. It was a distasteful prospect and my stomach was queasy even before I started. I could probably watch the entire tape in the time Carol would be gone, but I didn't want to put myself through that torture if it could be avoided. I would try to watch some snippets and see if they were sufficiently revealing. I rewound about an hour and started the tape. I hit a lowlight immediately. There was a dark-haired man on top of Carol, between her legs. They were wrapped around his back. He let her do the talking. She didn’t lack for enthusiasm. “Oh, God. Fuck me harder. This is fantastic; so much better than I imagined it!” How long had she been imagining it? He joined in with the highly imaginative, “Oh baby.” Didn’t he even remember her fucking name? I heard myself talking out loud. “I can’t believe …” I bolted for the nearest bathroom. I managed to slow down enough not to bruise my knees when I hit the floor. I ejected my breakfast into the toilet bowl. I cleaned myself up, but went back to the floor and stayed there for some time until I felt less nauseous. Many men tell stories about finding their wives so engaged acting as an agent of arousal. For me, it was an emetic. I trudged back toward my office. Could I watch more? Was I sufficiently purged to get through it? As I entered the office, I saw Carol heading toward the bed from the direction of the bathroom. She was naked. What was unmistakably semen was glistening on her thighs. She hadn't used protection. Neither of us would be getting lucky tonight. She sat down on the bed and picked up the phone. Was this when she had called me? “Hi.” Who was on the other end of the phone? “It was fantastic.” Shit! I didn’t think of recording the phone. I could only imagine the other side of the conversation. “No. It was everything I expected. The only way it could have been better was if Simon had been there, watching. I didn’t really think I’d be able to get him to go along with that. He’s so self-righteous. “I don’t know. Simon is out of town a lot, but I don't think I want the pressure of having to hide an affair.” Was she talking to him? “I know. Thank you. None of this would have been possible without you. I don't suppose you could get Simon again, could you?” She giggled at this. Nicole? Nobody else had gotten me. I thought I had gotten her. “Well, I feel wonderful. Say, why don’t we go out for a day of shopping? Simon is in no position to complain about me spending money. What do you say? “Great. I’ll call you, and Simon, when I’m ready to leave.” The “and Simon” part sounded coquettish. Carol hung up and headed for the bathroom. When she next appeared on the screen, she was getting ready for her shopping adventure. She was awfully friendly with Nicole considering that she too had betrayed Carol. She couldn’t have had her tryst without Nicole? The panties! Nicole had packed my bag. She must have put them there on purpose. Get me again? There seemed to be even more to this than I had suspected though I had no idea what it was. I am not a stupid man. No doubt many of you will disagree now that you understand the situation in which I found myself. I had the hubris to believe that I was perceptive and insightful. In fact, it appeared that I had been taken for a fool. I didn’t think I would get the full story just by asking Carol. She was too good at spin. I would need to plan carefully if I were to succeed. I spent the day in preparation. I saw Carol's car pulling into the driveway a little before 5:30. I immediately picked up the phone and dialed. “Hello?” “Nicole, something’s wrong with Carol. I need your help. Come over right away.” “What’s wrong? What --?” I hung up. Melodramatic to be sure. But, I wanted her here to help me uncover the truth and I wasn’t sure I could persuade her to come over for that purpose. I heard the key in the lock of the back door. Carol's arms were full. She put her packages down on kitchen table. “You look awfully serious for someone who is going to have a really good time night.” Carol couldn’t have been more pleased with her situation had she won the lottery. “Come sit down. We need to talk.” She could turn on a dime. “What is this shit? You screw around on me and I have to come talk?” “I told you I had no right to hold it against you. But your actions were just as wrong as mine. We discussed what I did, didn't we? Now that you've had your revenge, we get to talk about what I need to move on. First, did you use condoms?” She blushed. She hesitated. No use in trotting out an obvious lie at this point. She was Carol, as always. The best defense is a good offense. “Why do you think I didn’t use condoms?” “I didn’t find any.” “I could have flushed them.” She would have made a great politician. Never a real answer. “I didn’t find any packaging. Did you flush that too?” Now that evasion wasn’t practical, she changed her tactic. “You didn't use condoms with Nicole.” “How do you know he was safe?” “I asked,” she said not quite quickly enough. “I guess I’m not getting lucky tonight. If Bob didn’t have to use condoms with my wife, I’m not about to.” “What about you? You could have an STD.” “I was tested. Until you’ve been tested, you’re on your own.” “Bastard.” “Very incisive argument. How long have you been planning this?” “What do you mean? I started after I found out about you and Nicole.” “You found someone astonishingly quickly.” “I’m very appealing.” “Aside from it being your fantasy, why was it necessary for me to watch?” “So you would learn your lesson.” “What lesson is that?” “To never screw around on me again.” She was getting agitated. So was I. “And in what way did I not learn it? Didn't I know how much I'd hurt you? Didn't I feel disgusted with myself for my lack of self-control? Wasn't I going to be hurt enough by what you were doing, and the fact that you were making plans to do it to me? How would me watching teach that lesson any better?” She didn’t answer. There was no reasonable answer. “Who was he?” “Just someone I know from work.” “How did you get Bob to agree so quickly? How long have you been flirting?” “He just, he was attracted to me. I talked to him on Wednesday.” “You just said, ‘Hey Bob, doing anything Friday? I’d like you to spend the night at my house fucking me in my marital bed.’ No preparation? No introduction? He’s a really nice guy to accommodate you on such short notice.” “His name is Frank and it wasn’t like that.” “What was it like?” “I don’t want to talk about it.” “I need to tell you Carol, and I'm not very proud about this, that I have collected some evidence about this situation. Be very careful what you lie about. Cheating on me in this manner was nasty and mean-spirited. I think I can get past that. But if I feel that I can't trust you, we have no foundation upon which to rebuild this marriage. There are some lies you might tell that I will know are lies. Since you don’t know which things I know, you’ll be taking a big risk if you don’t tell me the truth.” “Are you saying you’re going to leave me after what you did?” “I'm saying I will leave you if I can't trust you after what you did. If I can't trust you, how do I know you won't kill me in my sleep?” “I would never do that.” “But the question is, what would you do? How far would you go?” I saw Nicole's car pulling up. “Did you conspire with Nicole to have me be unfaithful with her?” “You're insane.” “Perhaps. But you didn't answer my question. And before you do, don't forget that I may have the evidence. Also, I am going to ask Nicole about it.” “She won’t talk to you.” Perfect timing. The doorbell rang. “That’s her now. Why don’t we find out if you’re right. Why did you call her when you were finished with Bob?” “Frank! I didn’t.” I was headed for the door. “Would you like to try for a different answer? How did you arrange to go shopping with her?” “Well, yes, I called her about that. I meant I didn’t call to talk about it.” Nicole rushed past me into the living room. “Carol, are you okay? Simon said something was wrong with you.” I didn’t give her a chance to answer. “Nicole, when did you and Carol start planning this?” Carol cut in. “What are you trying to pull –“ “Carol, be quiet. We’re going to get to the bottom of this,” I said. She was not so easily deterred. “You have some nerve trying to pull this shit in my fucking house.” “If we don’t resolve this, it will be just your fucking house. You can fuck to your heart’s content here - without me.” Either my vitriol or that prospect seemed to be enough to quiet her for the moment. “What’s wrong with Carol is that we’re having a marriage critical discussion. Nicole, when did you two start planning this?” I asked. “Planning what? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “How did your panties get in my suitcase?” “It was just a mistake. I put them in the wrong one.” “How stupid do you think I am? I’ll admit to being an incredible fool in this whole thing for a while, but I’m not that stupid. Just one pair? You packed the bags simultaneously? You told me you packed in your room and then came back to help me pack mine.” “Well …” Nicole didn’t have an answer prepared. “How is it that,” I made a big deal of looking at my notes, “’ None of this would have been possible without you?’” Both of them looked surprised. “Oh, it didn’t occur to you that I might have had the phones bugged?” Logically this didn't make sense. Had I been recording the phone, I would have had both sides of the conversation. That is a difficult analysis to make in the panic of the moment of being caught. “When did you start planning this?” I didn't care who answered. The silence seemed to go on endlessly, although, in reality, it was probably less than a minute. I waited. Justified or not, I had the sense that if I spoke first I would lose the advantage, and the truth, forever. “Around five months ago,” said Nicole in a voice not much louder than a whisper. “Nicole,” said Carol. “You heard. He knows. We’ll only make it worse if we lie.” “Nicole has that right. I'm not guaranteeing that I will stay with you no matter what I learn. But I guarantee that I will leave if I don't get the truth. What was the plan?” “I would try to get you to seduce me and then leave some evidence for Carol.” “Nicole!” Did Carol still think she could hide it all or was it just a shock to hear it out loud? “Carol, isn't it obvious by now that I figured that out? She knew where to find me just like Annie did. She left evidence in what I now recognize as an obvious way. Let it all come out. She helped you with this information, Nicole?” “Yes.” “So, Carol, you have been planning for five months with Nicole to have Frank and some time before that you came up with the plan?” She was now quiet and her manner was resigned. “Yes.” “Why the elaborate plan? Why not just cheat while I was out of town and hide it from me?” “I thought you would leave me if you found out.” “And this is better?” “I didn’t think you would find out.” “Why did you do it?” “I didn’t think you would find out.” “That’s a reason?” “Frank has been flirting with me for a long time. It made me feel attractive. You were always gone and he was always there. He gave me lots of attention. He kept trying to win me even though I turned him down again and again. It made me feel special. Being pursued was so exciting. It, it made me think back to how much fun I had when I played the field before we met. I guess I finally let it get to me. I wanted to see if I was missing anything. I wanted to feel the thrill of being desirable. It wasn’t anything you did. I just got caught up in the excitement. It was stupid.” “You could have just secretly cheated Carol. It would have been a lousy thing to do, but at least you could have avoided hurting me.” “I didn’t think you would find out.” “So you betrayed me by cheating with Frank, and you betrayed me by making me think it was all my fault?” “It sounds terrible when you put it that way.” “What is the nice way to put it?” She shrugged and raised her eyebrows. “So, you betrayed me twice?” “Yes. I’m sorry honey.” “That isn’t all, is it?” “What do you mean?” asked Carol. “Those two betrayals are pretty bitter to swallow, however they are something I might be able to overcome. But that's not the whole story, is it Nicole?” She shrugged her shoulders and shook her head.