50 comments/ 115608 views/ 47 favorites Huw By: ukresearcher Be Warned, this tale has cuckoldry as the central theme. I am five foot ten in height with a wiry build but consider myself to be quite clever. Sandra my wife is six inches shorter but her four inch high heels make us the perfect match for dancing. We are both now in our early thirties but I'm fortunate that, after ten years of marriage and bearing two kids, she still retains the slim waist and rounded figure that she had when we met. I mustn't forget to mention her glorious, shoulder length blonde hair. I describe my sexual experience before we met as being average and she said the same about hers but I often had the feeling that her average was somewhat higher than my average. I first got an inkling that Sandra was cheating on me roughly three months earlier. A decade of contented marriage, without a doubt in my mind, and then a kind of gut instinct told me that something had changed. The problem was that all the various clues were rather tenuous and at first it was very easy to convince myself that I was imagining things. The major difference was that Sandra began claiming that she was 'not in the mood' far more often and even when we did have sex she became reluctant to persevere until I gave her an orgasm, instead telling me to finish quickly because she was feeling tired. I knew that over the years our sexual activity had tended to ebb and flow in intensity, but somehow this seemed more significant. From the start of the marriage the sexual part had been important for both of us but that seemed now to no longer be true for her. Every Friday her parents had our two young daughters at their house overnight, occasionally keeping them for the whole weekend, so we generally grabbed the opportunity to have Friday's as a night out, cinema, take in a show etc. Monday evenings I regularly played Duplicate at a local bridge club and Sandra had her night out on Wednesdays when she joined up with a crowd of married female friends. These evenings were usually spent drinking and chatting at one of their houses but sometimes, generally someone's birthday, they all went out clubbing and on one occasion the crowd of them went to a reasonably respectable venue to watch male strippers. The breakthrough on knowledge about my wife's infidelity came from a missed phone call. It was a Wednesday and Sandra was late home from work so consequently it was a mad dash making tea, then her frantically getting ready to go out, with the result that it was not until the kids were safely in bed that I thought to check the tape for missed phone calls. There was only one and it was for Sandra from her friend Petra. The short message was, "Hi San, Just checking – with you blobbing again last week I wanted to make sure you would be there tonight. Bye, Petra." To my knowledge Sandra hadn't missed a Girl's Night for months. My wife arrived home late, in a merry mood and somewhat inebriated, but I said nothing. Nor did I question her on the Thursday because I still needed to get things sorted in my head but I made sure that we would be spending Friday evening at home. When the time came I waited until we were both sitting with a glass of wine before asking quietly, "Are you having an affair?" Sandra laughed. "Whatever gave you that idea?" she asked with an amused expression on her face. "You haven't answered my question," I said doggedly. "Well you haven't answered mine either," Sandra said grinning, acting as if this was a game. "Anyway, I don't know how you can ask me something like that." "Where were you a week ago on Wednesday?" "You know where - with the girls like always," my wife answered but with much of the confidence suddenly gone from her voice. Without speaking I played the incriminating message to her. When it finished there was a long pause before Sandra started to say, "I can explain," but then she stopped and said, "No I can't," before breaking down in tears, mumbling, "I'm so, so sorry." Throughout our relationship I have always hastened to her side to offer comfort at the slightest sign of distress but this time I steeled my heart and waited until her sobbing had eased before asking, "How long has it been going on?" "Nearly two months." "How many times?" "- have you seen him," I added quickly before she misinterpreted the question and caused me even greater distress. "Five – six counting the first." This was still more than I had hoped to hear. Knowing, from the phone call, that she had missed the girl's night once before, I realised that the bastard must have fucked her on at least two occasions but now my mind was working overtime trying to identify the times that she must have returned to me after being with him. I was incapable of speech for what seemed like an age but was finally able to ask the big question, "Who is he?" Sandra shook her head. "I don't want to say." "I need to know." My wife again shook her head. "I can't tell you, I just know that it won't help." "Do I know him?" This time Sandra nodded. "I'm afraid of what you might do if I tell you who he is. I can't risk you getting hurt or ending up in prison." "If I promise not to try for revenge, to not even speak to him about it, will you tell me then," I asked. My wife looked deep into my eyes looking for sincerity then, making her decision, she said quietly, "Its Huw." I felt as if I had been kicked in the gut, I could hardly breathe and it was as if the whole of creation was falling down on top of me. You see, Huw was the one man in the world who I thoroughly loathed. (For clarification, Huw is the Welsh spelling of the name Hugh). I spend my working life in the software development area of a very large open plan office where I'm in charge of a small team of five dealing with specialist applications. Down one full wall there are a series of offices fronted with opaque glass, to give privacy while allowing light from outside to pass through to the main office. Huw is the purchasing manager and his is the middle of the nine offices. In his early forties he is just over six feet tall but very heavily built. He wears his straight black hair sleeked straight back so that it looks like a skullcap with the visage completed by a fat jowly face with rather bulging frog like eyes. To my mind he is ugly but I have to admit that females don't seem to see him that way. Down the other long wall are banks of VDUs manned by data input girls, mostly school leavers and single mothers. There is a steady turn over. Near the main entrance to the office there are two big automatic drinks machines. It is allowed to get a drink at any time but during the official break there is always a small crowd round the machines. Now whenever an attractive new girl appears, as if activated by radar, Huw emerges from his office like a spider from its lair. Making a beeline for the girl he either squeezes her bottom or runs his hand round her back and up under her armpit while saying loudly, "Isn't anybody going to introduce me to this gorgeous creature." The groping is so blatant that I expect the girl to slap his face but none do. Instead they smile up at him as if glad of the attention. I would never dream of doing such a thing and resent the fact that Huw seemed to do it with impunity. He made a fair number of conquests which would have been fair had he used discretion but he made no secret about who he was screwing. Even worse, particularly when ready to dump a girl, he liked revealing intimate details about her to his group of cronies. These acolytes seemed to laugh at everything he said and I wondered how they could fail to see through his shabby façade. At least two of the females he humiliated were married, both left the firm and I know for certain that one ended up divorced. It's an understatement to say that I despised the man. Every lunchtime, I and nine others gather round a table left clear for the purpose and engage in a game of liar dice. This is played with five dice but with court cards on the faces instead of spots and together they make up a range of poker hands. A nominal amount is paid into the kitty for three lives and when all three lives are lost you are out of the game, winner take all. When the bell goes to signal lunch, someone rattles the dice in the cup and from all over the large office, players start heading towards the table like zombies answering the call. One game nicely last the whole lunch hour. The game requires the ability to bluff and knowledge of probability. Hands are rolled secretly under a cup and passed to the next player who can accept or refuse the claimed hand. If he refuses and the hand is there he loses a life otherwise it is the liar who forfeits. If he accepts and looks under the cup he must pass on a higher hand, rolling whatever dice to try to achieve it. He may pass it on unseen but if then called when he has been bluffed it is his misfortune. A key part of the game is that you may under call the hand. I am rather good at the pastime. Before I came along Huw was one of the better players but due to my dislike, I used subtle game ploys to ensure that he lost more lives than he otherwise would. The previous two years we had been unable to attend the firms Xmas bash but last year, for the first time, we managed to turn up to the large hotel where it was being staged. We had a couple of dances and were just sitting at our table drinking and enjoying the ambiance when Sandra suddenly asked, "Who's he?" With her eyes she was indicating part way round the dance floor to where two tables had been pushed together and in the middle of the small crowd was Huw holding court. "Which one?" I asked, guessing the answer but hoping I was wrong.. "Him in the middle, the one with very black hair." "He's called Huw but you don't want to know about him. He's a fucking sod," I told her firmly hoping to end that line of conversation. "Well he seems very popular so someone must like him," my wife remarked dryly. "He's a bit ugly but appealing in a funny sort of way. I can't see much wrong with him to make you dislike him as much as you obviously do." "He's too bloody full of himself and he can't leave the females alone," I complained. "Whenever a new girl starts work he has his hands all over her at the first opportunity then passes it off as just being friendly and making her welcome." "Perhaps he is just being friendly. Some people are a lot more tactile than others. They just touch quite naturally without thinking anything about it and that probably has something to do with upbringing. I know that you don't act like that but then your parents are not exactly cuddly people are they?" I said nothing hoping to let the subject drop but Sandra had not finished. "Did any of the girls object?" she asked and when I shook my head, she said triumphantly, "Then they must have enjoyed being touched. Women do you know." "Even blatantly groped?" "That all depends on quite how blatant it is," my wife said with a small smile. For the next half hour we only exchanged the odd remark. Both of us seemed content to sit and watch the dancers but I did notice my wife's eyes frequently flicking in the direction of that expanded table until, almost inevitably, I looked up to see Huw purposefully heading in our direction. Arriving at our table, speaking as if I was his bosom buddy, Huw said loudly, "Hi there Jeff old pal, I hope you won't object to me stealing your lovely wife for a dance." There was nothing else I could say, especially as Sandra was already starting to stand. Even though my skin crawled at just the thought of him touching her, I pasted a smile on my face and told him politely, "Be my guest." Par for the course, as my wife moved in front of him, Huw slid his hand so far round her waist that I knew he could feel the swell of her lower breast and as they reached the floor he dropped his hand to caress slowly across her bottom. From what I could see the actually dancing was quite respectable but when he returned her to me the 'copping a feel' manoeuvre was repeated. I don't know what else he found out on the dance floor but Huw certainly returned to his table knowing my wife's bra size and aware that she was not wearing panties. I was fuming and the moment Sandra sat down, I said nastily, "I suppose you're going to tell me that he didn't grope you." "Oh he groped me all right," she happily admitted, "but I wouldn't say it was blatant, if fact I would be very surprised if anyone noticed." "I noticed." "Course you did but then you were watching out for it. Like a hawk. Jeff, for some reason you've got a bee in your bonnet about that man and it's is causing you to get everything out of perspective. So he felt my tit, lots of men do, it's all part of life's rich pattern. Anyway, I found him rather charming." "Charm is how he works," I pointed out. Sandra put her glass down hard on the table and said firmly, "Jeff, I'm not going to spoil my evening by sitting here arguing the merits of a man who is never going to have any relevance to me. Please can we let the subject drop?" Fortunately at that moment two of my team walked up accompanied by female companions and we spent the rest of a very enjoyable evening with them. A few days afterwards at work Huw came to my desk to say, "You have a very attractive wife Jeff, very shapely." I thanked him for the compliment but then looked straight back at my work. I was trying to deter further conversation but Huw felt the need to add, "You and I certainly have the same taste in women," before walking away. I let that go because as far as I could see, his taste extended to anything gullible with a cunt. Nearly a month later, while eating our evening meal, Sandra said conversationally, "I bumped into that colleague of yours today, the one you don't like. Our trolleys literally bumped into each other in the supermarket." "You mean Huw?" Sandra nodded and chuckled as she went on to say, "I was going round the end of an isle, he was coming in the opposite direction and we met half way. It was actually mainly my fault but Huw took all the blame and couldn't apologise enough. Anyway, he insisted on buying me a coffee to make amends so we put our trolleys in the lockers and went in the cafeteria." "What did he say to you," I asked feeling suddenly on edge. "Nothing much at all. We were in there chatting for over an hour but I can't remember a single thing we talked about, so it can't have been anything significant. The trouble is that I've invited him round here for dinner Friday evening. If it hadn't been for that I probably wouldn't have mentioned seeing him." "Why the hell did you do that when you know I detest the bugger," I demanded angrily. "I kind of tricked myself into it," my wife admitted. "As we were about to leave the café Huw said how much he had enjoyed talking to me and wondered if I would like to go round to his place one evening to continue the conversation." "Bastard," I swore. "I was convinced that he wanted me to go there alone so rather than refuse I asked him if you were included, thinking it would make him withdraw the invitation," Sandra carried on. "Trouble was he said, 'Of course,' and I then was stuck. I knew how much you would hate being stuck on his territory so, to try and rescue the situation a bit, I claimed baby-sitting problems and invited him here instead." I said nothing but I didn't blame her because Huw was not a man who it was easy to outmanoeuvre but I was still left with no option except to prepare myself for an unpleasant evening. On Friday, my wife started the meal and then I took over while she went to get ready. When she finally appeared Sandra looked delightful but at my request there was no cleavage on display and her simple classy black dress was loose fitting. Huw arrived dead on time carrying a rather expensive bottle of wine and a big bunch of flowers. Although the preliminaries were very stilted and formal once the food was served everybody seemed to relax. The dreaded encounter actually turned out to be rather enjoyable, mainly due to our guest's droll sense of humour – I've never denied that the man can be entertaining. When we had finished eating I gathered the dirty dishes onto a tray and headed towards the kitchen intending to put them straight into the dishwasher. I was expecting that we would now retire to the sitting room for another couple of hours but suddenly Huw said loudly, "Is that the time, mustn't outstay my welcome, Cheers Jeff see you at work." I looked over my shoulder just in time to see him already leaving the room. I had no alterative to continuing into the kitchen but once there I put the tray down and quickly headed back. Looking down the dimly lit hall I could see Huw standing with his back to the front door with Sandra facing him. He was leaning forward with obvious intent and my wife had her head cocked as if expecting to be kissed but then he spotted me. Quickly he straightened back up and instead stuck out his hand to Sandra saying, "Thank you for a very lovely evening you must let me return the favour some time." Then, with a casual wave in my direction he had gone. Turning to me Sandra grinned. "Thank goodness that's over. He is a bit overpowering don't you think," she said and those few words dispelled any slight unease I was feeling, caused by that final scene in the hall. So I sat facing my errant wife trying to come to terms with her now admitted cheating. After knowing her character so well for ten years I had to think that the fault lay with me. "Where did I go wrong?" I asked sadly. "You didn't do anything wrong Jeff," she told me with sincerity in her voice. "You've always been a perfect husband and a marvellous father. I'm the only one to blame." "If I'm so wonderful what the hell does he offer to tempt you away from me?" I asked bitterly. "Excitement," Sandra told me without needing to think, "And he's also got a huge cock." That made sense; in fact it explained a lot that had puzzled me. I hadn't noticed but then I was not in the habit of checking out other men. "How big is it?" I asked, "say compared with mine." Sandra gave a sad smile. "Jeff love, yours just doesn't compare, his cock is a different order of magnitude completely. That shook me but I persevered. "You must still be able to give comparative figures." It was easy to tell that she was unhappy with the question but she eventually told me, "Remember when we measured you some years ago. We called it six inches but it was really a little bit less, well his has got to be over nine and it's also very thick." "What exactly do you mean by 'excitement'?" I asked changing tack. "Darling, you are so safe and dependable, it's what I've always loved most about you but he is just the opposite. He's daring and unpredictable. You have always kept me wrapped in a warm cocoon of contentment but he makes me feel alive again." "Again?" "I never told you about Karl, the boyfriend I had immediately before you, he was a total shit but he was magic in bed. He used to cheat on me and knock me about but I stayed with him far longer than I should, just for the sex. Most of the time I was desperately unhappy but being with him was always exciting. Then you came along to rescue me and make me happier than I ever thought possible." "I don't quite see what he has to do with Huw," I said, genuinely puzzled. "It's just that Huw reminded me of the good parts from back then and I realised that I missed them. I missed them desperately." "So after that dinner, the next time you did go to his place by yourself," I accused. My wife shook her head. "I have been to his flat more than once but that isn't how it started. It actually started here." You mean at that dinner?" Huw "No – well partly yes," Sandra corrected herself. "While we were eating he kept pressing his knee against my leg and he made sure that I knew what he'd got. You couldn't see from where you were sitting but he had his big penis on display, outlined down the inside of his thigh. I got very wet. When he left I was sure he was going to kiss me at the door. I think wanted him to but then you came after us and scared him off. I came to my senses straight away and was relieved that he'd gone." I started to speak but Sandra held up a hand to stop me. "A couple of weeks after the dinner, when I was getting ready to go back to work for the afternoon, the doorbell rang. It was Huw and the moment I opened the door he just walked in. He didn't speak, just stood there looking at me with that confident expression on his face. I asked him what he wanted but he just laughed and said, 'You know what I want and I'm pretty sure that you want the same thing.' My wife paused and swallowed then, looking straight in my eyes she said, "I couldn't deny that so instead I said we couldn't because I was expecting you back for your lunch. That amused him. He told me, 'Jeff will be safely tied up in a meeting until at least until four o'clock. I know because I arranged it.' I then pretended that I was expecting my parents any minute but he knew I was lying. He just grabbed my hand and pressed it against his cock and then, before I could even react, he had a hand down my top and his tongue in my mouth. When we came up for air he told me to get his penis out. I sucked it for a bit and then he fucked me." "In our bed?" "Of course not, I would never do that," Sandra said quickly, looking upset that I should ask. "It happened on the settee and on the floor. It took a long time to get it inside me but the second time was a lot easier. Since then I've been with him five times, twice in the evening and three times when I went to his flat instead of going in to work." With her confession complete my wife just sat and looked at me waiting for me to speak but it was more that ten minutes before I had marshalled my thoughts enough to do so. Eventually I said, "I don't want to lose you and I can forgive you. I think we can save our marriage if you promise never to see Huw again." "But I don't want to," Sandra protested, sending my spirits plunging. "You don't want to try and save our marriage?" I asked incredulously. "Of course I do, our marriage is very precious to me. You misunderstood because 'want' isn't the word I meant," she said urgently. "Even though I still love you so much, I don't think I can give him up. At this moment I need him as much as I need you." "I still don't understand." My tormented wife considered her words and then said slowly, "I know it can't last. It can't last mainly because of the kind of man he is but I hoped that I could have a fling and get him out of my system without you ever knowing but you've found out too soon. At the moment I can't think of anything except the way that he makes me feel. No matter what promises you get me to make I know that I won't be able to stop going to him. I've got an overwhelming craving for the sensations he gives me." "What exactly does that mean for us?" "I'm hoping that you love me enough to let me work through this thing. I would like to carry on with our marriage as usual but keep seeing Huw as well. I will only go with him during the day so you need not necessarily know anything about it if you don't want to." "That is asking a lot of me," I told her honestly. "I know but if you force me to chose between you, at this moment, I honestly don't know what I'll do." The threat was only implied but it was there. I am a gambling man and can almost instinctively calculate the odds against any outcome. When it comes to cards or dice I'm known to have nerves of steel so why did I suddenly feel so weak in the game of life. It was obvious that if Sandra did leave me for Huw, she would be in a real mess once he tired of her. She had no training or skill with which to earn a decent living, she would have left me possession of the house and I would undoubtedly be given custody of our two children. Logically, leaving me was not a tenable prospect and I knew that my wife was a logical woman. Unfortunately she was now in an irrational state and I had to decide whether her common sense would still prevail. I should have told her to pack her bags and go to him if she wanted him that much and even if she begged to stay with me it should have been with the warning that any further contact with Huw would mean the inevitable end of the marriage. Unfortunately I suddenly realised that if a certain outcome is totally unacceptable then it is impossible to take the risk irrespective of the odds against it happening. "I suppose I can give it a try," I said reluctantly and Sandra was immediately in my arms smothering my face with kisses. "But what if people find out at my work," I said, trying to backtrack, "Huw is a bugger for bragging about his conquests. That's one of the things I dislike about him." "He's been shagging me for two months and he hasn't said anything yet so I don't see why he should start. Anyway, if he does and you deny it then I'll back you up." Sarah said sounding unconcerned. "But if you are really worried, I'll threaten to finish with him if people find out. That will work because he's a bit besotted with me as well. Last time he said I was the best fuck he'd ever had and I think he meant it." So I had committed myself and effectively ignored my primary rule – Make the most of strength because weakness makes it tougher. In visual terms, if you are unable to stand firm on the crest it will get harder and harder to resist as you are pushed progressively down the other side of the mountain. Sandra rewarded me for my 'unselfish generosity' with the best sex for over three months but even as I lay basking in the post coital afterglow she began establishing the set up for her future double life. "I'll be skipping work to go round to Huw's, Petra doesn't really need me as much at the moment and we won't miss the money. When I do go, would you like me to warn you in advance or would you prefer just not to know?" Suddenly this was real and not just theory. "I think I'd rather not know," I said, foolishly thinking that would be easier. For the rest of the evening nothing more was said about our new arrangement. I think that I tried to pretend that nothing had changed and I can see that Sandra was afraid to add any detail that might hazard the agreement. At work I discovered the snag with remaining in the dark because any day that Huw was missing from the lunchtime game, my mind was filled with images of him and Sandra together. Typically, that first week he missed three out of five games and I undoubtedly tormented myself unnecessarily when nothing was actually happening. My work certainly suffered. On the Thursday of the second week I went to bed feeling relaxed, partly because I had again beaten my foe in the dice showdown. After some kissing and a nice suck at her thrusting red nipples I began kissing and licking my usual path to between her legs but Sandra stopped me, saying gently, "Huw fucked me this afternoon so you may want to give that a miss tonight love. He came deep inside and even though it was nine hours ago, I think there's a lot of his stuff still up there." Glad of the warning I immediately pulled back and instead started to move on top but she again shook her head saying, "If you don't mind I'd rather go to sleep. He did rather tire me today, the bugger's never satisfied." Understandably I got very little sleep that night with constant images and a painful erection. For some reason I convinced myself that masturbation was a kind of surrender. This was repeated twice during the next few weeks with the difference that on the second occasion Sandra said, "You can still lick me if you want to," and when I again demurred she said, "I'll wank you if you do, you know how much you like me doing that." Despite the undoubted temptation of her offer I let my fastidious nature prevail. Early the next week my wife asked, "Huw is busy at work all this week and can't get away so please can I see him on Friday night?" "NO," I said, not giving her request any consideration. "It's bad enough when I can only guess, so how do you think I will feel sitting here knowing for certain that he's in the process of fucking you at that very moment." Sandra nodded as if understanding but then said vindictively, "You know that he sends me out of my mind with pleasure so what does it matter if you know when it is happening. I would have thought you might have enjoyed the thought that someone was in the middle of fucking me better than you ever have. I've been reading that a lot of husbands do." "I might if I really understood," I replied, stung by her implied reproach. "I only know that he has a large cock but have no idea what it looks like. Perhaps if I did I might understand a bit better why you are so addicted to it." My wife sat and looked at me for a long moment with a thoughtful expression her face and then said, "If you let me be with Huw on Friday night I promise to post a picture of his cock to your phone." I was about to agree when I saw the snag. "If you do that he'll realise that I know about you and him." Sandra laughed. "He knows already. Huw said he could tell immediately you found out from the way you glared at him at work." I was not at all happy about this but there was little that I could do except be prepared to counter any snide comments in the office. It was strange the way that normal life carried on. The fact was that my wife's extra-marital activities were not constantly in the forefront of my mind when I had anticipated being able to think of little else. For most of the time Sandra and I went shopping, watched TV, entertained the kids and chatted much as we always had. Analysis would have shown that most of the structure of my long term happiness remained in place. However, the agreed evening liaison had the potential to alter that. Sitting alone at home being aware that my wife was in the process of being fucked proved as bad as I had anticipated but I think I need to qualify the word 'bad'. My mind was in torment, my stomach was in the grip of severe cramp and there was also pain from my over stiff penis but my feelings of arousal were more intense than any I had previously experienced. For periods I seemed to float detached from reality in an almost out of body experience. I considered an adjustment to ease the strain on my penis but did not do so because I was afraid that the slightest touch would act as a trigger and cause me to lose these new sensations. The ping of my cell phone brought me out of this semi trance and with trembling fingers I brought up the image Sandra had sent. Perhaps if I had watched more porn I might have been better prepared. It was more, much more than I had expected. In an instant I understood my wife's fixation. I knew that if I were female and was offered the choice of that cock or mine it would be no contest and my only concern was whether it was actually too large. It was so wide and the height filled the screen. Veins, swollen from pumping blood, were prominent down the side, and the taught skin of the cap glistened, possibly from pre-cum but I rather assumed saliva. My only problem was that the snap was taken against a blank background. Gazing at that image only enhanced my mental movie and I quickly retuned to what I can only call my 'meditative state'. Then strangely I fell asleep, perhaps my mind was simply overwhelmed. The front door woke me and a glance at the clock told me it was 2 a.m. Sandra literally bounced in with a big smile on her face, which grew even larger when she spotted the mobile lying on the settee by my side. "How did you like the picture," she asked happily. "Very impressive," I admitted, "It has helped me understand why you like him so much." But then, in case I might have enthused too much, I felt the need to add, "Pity that I couldn't get any sense of scale." Sandra immediately knew what I meant. "It would have been better with my hand in the picture wouldn't it? Never mind, I'll take care of that next Friday, which would you prefer to see, his cock actually up inside or me licking it?" With that one sentence my wife craftily extended a one night dispensation into regular routine and I missed it completely. I think I was too busy considering my choice of images. "Maybe I'll send you both to reward you for being so understanding and letting me see Huw tonight. I got more than twice the time with him than usual. When I see him during the day sometimes he gets held up at work until after lunch I only get time to suck him off." This was a bit of a shock because in my imaginations he had always been fucking her. I had naturally accepted that she would lick and suck his cock but I had never considered him cumming in her mouth. "But usually you don't?" I asked hopefully. "Oh no, I do it every time, I love doing it," Sandra told me without any reserve. "Then we mess about until he gets stiff again so we can fuck. It doesn't take him very long and after he has already cum once, he can keep on poking me for far longer without any worry about losing control." "You've only ever had my cum in your mouth two or three times and that was right at the start of our marriage," I said unhappily, "You claim to still love me but it's obvious that you think more of him." "It has nothing to do with love," Sandra told me patiently. "Your spunk has a bitter chemical taste but his is thick with a sweet creamy taste or at least my mind makes me think it has. I love looking in the mirror and seeing it coated all over my tongue." "It's not just that. Over the years you haven't even sucked my cock all that much, certainly not every time," I complained, unwilling to abandon my sense of grievance at his apparently preferential treatment. "Darling, that is just a fact of life and it has nothing to do with me liking him more," my wife explained patiently. "An ordinary sized penis has a function but most are not particularly appealing and a woman will only suck one for three reasons, to give the man pleasure, to get it stiff enough to fuck her and conversely to avoid being fucked. A large cock is completely different because the woman will want to suck it solely for her own pleasure. This is not just with Huw, my mouth literally waters at the sight of a large cock and most women will tell you the same." About a month later there was a new development. Ironically it came just after I had decided that sharing my wife was not so onerous after all, with this belief undoubtedly helped by the fact that Sandra had made sure that I remained sexually very well satisfied. This night we'd messed about and I had given her a good licking but as I made to climb on top for the finale she put up her hand to stop me saying, "I'm sorry love but I don't want you to fuck me anymore, at least while I'm still seeing Huw." It felt as if a bucket of cold water had been thrown over me. "This is his idea isn't it?" I said bitterly. My wife quickly sat up and, grabbing my hand, said urgently, "No it isn't and you mustn't think it's so that he can be exclusive with me either. This is all me, how I feel and what I think is best for us." "But it's the first step in stopping having sex with me altogether," I said unhappily. "Don't be silly. I love having sex with you and the things we do, especially being licked. He doesn't do that much for some reason so I will always need your wonderful tongue. It's just having your penis inside me that's the problem. Whenever you start I wish desperately that it is his cock I am going to feel and when it isn't I resent it. Sometimes I get claustrophobic and have to struggle not to push you off. It's because I know it will end that way that I pretend to be too tired. If it wasn't for that I would have sex with you anytime." Sandra took a deep breath and went on, "I don't honestly know why having your cock inside me should be important for you because at times it seems more like an ordeal. When you're struggling to give me an orgasm the sweat is running off you, your face gets very red and I can see from your eyes that you are nearly exhausted. That doesn't seem like enjoyment to me. On the other hand, when I play with you, it is obvious that it's pleasure all the way. Sometimes when I keep getting you to the edge and not letting you cum you get frantic with sensations. I love doing that because I have so much control over you. The moment I decide to let you, you squirt. Darling, if you agree not to fuck me anymore I can make that even better for you." The offer was very tempting because I did get an inordinate amount of pleasure from her manual skills but those words still filled me with panic. "I just can't face the thought of never putting my cock inside you," I objected. "Sweet heart I didn't say never. If you get really desperate to put it in then I will grit my teeth and let you but I would prefer that you didn't. Actually, after a bit I don't think you'll even want to anymore because I'll make the other thing so good. Even now I'm convinced that you have far bigger ejaculations from my hand than you ever did cumming inside me." With that guarantee I agreed to give it a try and, over a succession of subsequent bedtimes Sandra worked hard to make me start believing that I had done quite well out of the deal but about three weeks later there was another event to trigger my latent resentment. With hints of a treat in store, my instructions were to undress and lie on the bed with my eyes closed. I obeyed and with mounting anticipation felt her climb on the bed and scramble up close to my head. "You can look now," she said with obvious excitement. I opened my eyes to see her cunt mere inches from my face and it had been shaved bare. The sparse covering of soft brown hair that had clung to her sexual mound for the last ten years had disappeared completely and for the first time ever I saw the tempting lips of her vagina clearly delineated. My immediate reaction was one of anger. "He asked you to do this, didn't he?" I said belligerently. My wife answered in the same tone asking, "Jeff why do you always find it so easy to believe that I've abandoned all my principles? Yes, Huw did ask me to shave down there but you did too years ago so I really did it for both of you." This example of female logic left me momentarily lost for words and before I could speak Sandra carried on in a softer tone, "I did want to do something for Hugh and of the three things he had asked for this was the one I thought wouldn't upset you much and if you really hated it I could easily grow it back." "What things did he want?" "For a start he asked me to get my pussy pierced. I was rather tempted by the idea but, apart from the pain, I worried that if something went wrong my clit wouldn't work anymore." "What else?" I prompted. "He also wanted me to get a tattoo. It was his initials HA done in fancy script with the letters superimposed on each other. He'd actually already worked out the design on his computer and wanted me to have it put on just below the bikini line. It was small, subtle and rather attractive but I was damned if I was going to walk round with his brand on me like a succession of his other sluts." That made me smile. "So you think of yourself as a slut?" "I suppose I am," she said as if considering the thought for the first time but then added defiantly, "I do know that I've had a hell of a lot more fun being a slut than I ever did when I was straight." "I actually quite like your new look," I admitted. Huw "Then what are you waiting for, don't you want to see if it's better for licking," Sandra said happily, throwing her thigh across my face. During the first two months without penetration the consolations were enough to prevent me feeling the loss unduly but that gradually changed. While imagining Huw's huge weapon sliding into her I could vividly remember the pure joy of thrusting into her warm welcoming wetness. The more I thought about it the more I missed that sublime sensation and I developed a craving to feel it again. I didn't want to actually fuck, just put it in and enjoy a thrust or two, so I thought it was not a lot to ask. I was mistaken. When I asked Sandra smiled but shook her head saying, "I don't think that is a good idea." Then speaking kindly as if to a child she said, "Don't you think you are being greedy, possibly even a bit selfish?" "I've remembered how nice it was and I want to feel it again, I'm only taking about a couple of thrusts. I am desperate now and you did promise." "You aren't really desperate you only think you are, you're just suffering a few withdrawal symptoms that's all," she said sympathetically. "I'm glad that you're remembering how much you used to enjoy being inside me but you haven't thought it through. If you put your cock in me you would have to carry on until you had given me an orgasm. That's the rule for Huw and it would have to apply to you too. You would also lose the special thing we do because I only use my hand on you so much to compensate for not fucking me." I was rather stunned by this effective refusal and sat struggling with the implications of what she had said but my wife had not finished. "Then there is Huw to consider," she went on. "He knows that you don't put your dick in me in me any more so if I start fucking you again he'll expect something extra for himself. He's always hinting that I should stay with him all night and he's even mentioned taking me away for a few days for some quality time together. Darling, I did promise and if you ask again I'll let you but first I want you to fully think what it will mean." Inevitably I opted to stick with the status quo. One Friday Sandra returned from seeing Huw somewhat earlier than usual. She described their activities, illustrated by the evening's pictures but when we eventually headed upstairs I had no expectations of any sex. However, once in bed she lay on her side, coquettishly grinning at me. "Something different happened tonight," she began. "As soon as I got there Huw told me that he hadn't cum since I was with him on Monday and he wouldn't let me suck him off in case I got drowned." When they started their Friday night sessions I had rather assumed that it was a straight swap for the afternoon and this was the first time I realised that they had continued to meet during the day. Full of enthusiasm my promiscuous wife continued, "He was right because when he did cum it felt as if I had a hosepipe stuck up me. Well that set me thinking that what worked with him might work with you. I'm overflowing with his lovely semen so I know you won't want to lick me and I usually don't play with you when you refuse but tonight I will. Don't get your hopes up too high though because, although I'm going to make you feel really good, you are not going to get off until tomorrow. I'm testing to see if a bit of delayed gratification will make you squirt further." I should perhaps describe one of these hand job sessions, which have become more elaborate since I found out about the affair. I start off lying on my back, usually on my back, frequently blindfolded and always already with an anticipatory erection. For a long time nothing happens and then I feel an almost touch, I think she just moves her mouth near and breathes on it. Then I get featherlike strokes with gaps in between. She plays with my balls so nicely until I feel a painful squeeze and other torture tactics include slight bites and scratches with her nail. This builds up steadily until I am ready to explode and then she suddenly halts the whole thing but I don't know how she stops the semen gushing out anyway. There is then a short rest for me to calm down and it starts again from the beginning, repeated three or four times until I am finally allowed relief. Let me tell you that this 'bonus' session was all that and more. It reached a point where every fibre of my being was shrieking out to cum and at that moment, Sandra suddenly patted my stomach and said, "That's your lot for now lover boy." I ripped off my blindfold to find her licking her lips seductively and grinning cheekily at me. I was in actual physical pain. Unable to stay still, I eased myself off the bed and proceeded to limp round the room making random involuntary humping motions. This caused my wife's great amusement but, taking pity, she said, "This first time, to help you, I'll let you snuggle up behind me and wedge your poor little cock in the crack of my bum, but if you move or if it even twitches, then I'll make you sleep on the floor." Rather than help, her 'kindness' guaranteed a tormented sleepless night. It was fortunate that the next day was a Saturday because my erection didn't decrease in the slightest all day. In the supermarket the trolley helped hide my embarrassment but I'm sure that some people must have noticed. By the time that evening came I was wishing the minutes away but typically Sarah found a late film that she insisted on watching, Eventually we ended up in bed and I subjected myself to 'the routine', which I'm sure was even more protracted than usual. My orgasm, when it came, was enormous, indescribable and it left me in an unreal place floating in a sea of sensation. When it was over I just lay, totally drained, and Sandra had to peel the blindfold from my eyes. There was delight on her face as she reported that her experiment had been an outstanding success. "It squirted nearly twice as far as ever before and that was just a first attempt. I'm sure that with a bit of training we might even be able to reach as far as the wardrobe," she happily informed me "You know your little dickie kept on jerking long after stuff had stopped coming out." Like anybody with a new enthusiasm, Sandra wanted to persevere straight away so on the Sunday I was again left without relief and with the knowledge that she was upping the ante to three nights. On the Monday, I managed to get though the day at work but by the evening I had such a persistent erection that I had no option but to abandon my bridge club. Too restless to watch TV, I secluded myself in the in front of my computer. Now I admit that I was looking at porn images but I did not intentionally handle my cock. I only wanted to sooth the throbbing ache but the moment that I touched it, the semen just started to flow out of me in a river. There was no feeling of orgasm and none of the usual pleasure, just a profound feeling of relief. Panicking I cleaned up quickly and hid my soiled underwear, finally believing that there was no remaining evidence of my lapse. Unfortunately, Sandra had hardly begun that night's teasing when she stopped abruptly and angrily accused, "You've been didling yourself, haven't you? I trusted you and now you have let me down badly. I didn't want to consider this but if you can't be depended on to behave I'm going to have to think about putting it in a cage." My protestations of accident were to no avail and I had to lie and listen as my wife outlined her intended punishment. "We are going to begin again starting tomorrow and this time it is going to be for a full four days. You know now what the result will be if you fail me again." I won't dwell on the rest of that week as it was a nightmare with the nightly teasing, becoming torture rather than a pleasure. Fortunately I managed to survive due to frequent cold showers and the subterfuge of using a bag of frozen peas to get me through moments of crisis. When Friday evening arrived Sandra set out as usual for her time with Huw leaving me alone with my thoughts. I just sat hardly daring to move, just concentrating on keeping my mind blank and when my phone pinged to signal a picture arriving, I left it un-accessed lest sight of the image should trigger a spontaneous ejaculation. Sandra arrived home only a little after twelve and she seemed in a happy mood. Running over she gave me a kiss, saying, "Your big moment is almost here sweetheart, I bet you can't wait for this." I stood and followed her slowly upstairs, putting one careful foot after the other. In the bedroom I quickly undressed and adopted my usual position on the bed to watch her sensual and very erotic striptease build up while listening to a summary of her evenings activities. On instruction I pulled the mask down over my eyes and almost stopped breathing as Sandra began her tantalising ministrations. I find it impossible to describe the state I was soon in except to say that I seemed to be on some ethereal plateau where the sensations I experienced were neither true pleasure nor true pain but an exotic amalgam of the two. I lost count of the number of up and downs but felt sure that I must soon get my ached for release when she suddenly stopped and instructed me to remove the blindfold. As I complied she quickly straddled me so that she was facing down the bed with a leg on either side of my bed. Her vagina was just above my face, the whole area was very red and swollen. The lips of her cunt gaped open so far that a couple of inches of the pink flesh inside were exposed and at the end of the short tunnel I could see a great mucous glob of thick white semen. "Lick me," my cruel wife ordered. "I don't do that," I managed to stammer. "Lick me," Sandra repeated, "Or else I won't let you cum tonight." Resistance was indeed futile or at least beyond my diminished resolve. I licked, I licked a lot because the more I licked the more it seemed there was to lick. I certainly remembered the frantic licking but of other qualitative details I have no memory. All of as sudden I seemed to implode and came round with my wife gently stroking my face. "Wow," she said on seeing I was awake, "That was some spectacular." "What happened?" "I don't exactly know, you finally started to lick and I was so pleased but then suddenly your cock just exploded all by itself and totally out of my control. It squirted everywhere." "Did it hit the wardrobe?" I asked hopefully. "I didn't see because some went in my eye, in fact I think you put more cum on my face than Huw ever has. I still felt as if I was floating, totally relaxed. There was a complete absence of feeling in my groin area, in complete contrast to the previous four days. "I hope I did hit the wardrobe," I murmured contentedly. "Don't worry about the wardrobe, I don't think we'll be trying that again. Now that you have started licking there's no real need because now there are so many other games we can play instead." Later, when we were both in a more normal state, I asked, "Why were you so keen for me to lick your pussy after Huw has fucked you?" "Mainly because I thought you had a mental block about it and I wanted to help you get past it, Sandra explained, "From what I've read cuckolds are meant to like that bit the best." I knew that 'cuckold' was a medieval word, that it was in Shakespeare and had a sexual connotation but nothing beyond that. "Cuckold?" I queried. "A cuckold is a man whose wife gets fucked by another man or men and the husband either likes it or puts up with it. I think you are somewhere in the middle. I've been doing a lot of research on a couple of sites that cater specifically for men like you, it was actually Huw that put me on to them. They are both incredibly interesting and I've picked up loads of ideas. I'll show you where to find them tomorrow." Reading the postings on the two forums certainly opened my eyes even though a lot seemed rather extreme but it was reassuring to find that some of the emotions I had been experiencing were not that unusual. Whether it had been a mental block or not, I no longer had a problem licking after she had been with Hugh, so there were no longer nights when I was denied sex. I can't honestly say that I looked forward to the activity but my feelings were certainly ambivalent. I still approached the task with a deep sense of revulsion but the intensity of my feelings was off the scale and I accidentally ejaculated more than once while doing it. It may have been reaction but at work my play in the daily dice game changed. Out of the 60% of games that I did not win, Huw was victorious a fair number of times and I had been happy to let others have their turn. Generally I played easy early on and it was only if I was in contention at half way that I started to pull out al the stops but now I played like a demon from the start, not caring who won as long as Huw never did. I did succeed in that objective but apart from his undoubted frustration it gave me little real satisfaction. A Bank holiday was coming up and it was arranged that our girls would spend that time and a couple of extra days, with their grandparents on a short caravan holiday. I had vague plans to take advantage by also enjoying a few days away but it was not to be. Sandra broached the subject by informing me that Huw was having his flat completely refurbished at a cost of £25,000. It would take five days and he would have to vacate the premises while the work was done. Due to a golf tournament there was no local hotel accommodation available. "So he's going to take a few days holiday in the Lake District and he wants me to go with him," she finished. "It's his birthday and part of me thinks that I should." "What about me, no girls, no you, all by myself.?" I complained. "I thought about that and it wouldn't be fair on you so I suggested a compromise instead," she said reasonably, "So I've said that we will put him up until his flat is finished – but only if you agree." "What if I don't?" "I'll probably go with him." "If he stays with us will you and he be having sex?" "Almost certainly but there's no need for you to watch." It was a choice between two losing options. "I agree but with conditions," I conceded unhappily, "You can go to his bed but I want you always to sleep with me." When Friday evening arrived it was the usual procedure in reverse, with Huw arriving instead of Sandra leaving to be with him. Although not at all happy with the situation I was prepared to be civil and I hoped that gratitude for the accommodation would make him the same but that was not the case. When I proffered my hand he ignored it with antagonism in his eyes. This puzzled me until I realised that he must be blaming me for vetoing his Lake District jaunt. The initial confrontation was only short because my wife quickly hustled him away to the spare bedroom. I started watching TV but kept the sound low lest it hid any sounds from upstairs. This was not an easy decision and for a time I struggled with the remote control, asking myself if I really wanted to listen. Apparently I did. There was actually nothing to hear but it was over an hour before Sandra appeared still with a fleck of cum on her chin. She threw me a satisfied smile but said nothing, simply taking her seat on the settee. Huw arrived a couple of minutes later and sat beside her but immediately asked nastily, "Why the hell are we watching this crap?" My wife quickly turned to him and spoke sharply. Apart from the one word 'guest' I didn't hear what she said but it certainly served to make him keep his unpleasantness in check. Although it is always my task when we entertain, Sandra took charge of handing out drinks and the remainder of the evening passed in relative harmony. Towards the end I noticed that Huw had his cock out and my wife was casually fondling it but the angle of my chair made this easy to ignore. At eleven, at Sandra's prompting, she and I went up to bed leaving her lover to his own devices. We both undressed and I got into bed but unusually Sandra sat naked in front of the dressing table, admiring her reflection and dabbing on perfume. I think she was listening because immediately there was the sound of the other bedroom door closing she jumped up and ran over to kiss me. "I'm just going to check that Huw is settled in," she said breathlessly, "I may be a few minutes." She was away for over two hours and this time I had no need to strain my ears to hear the sound effects. Sandra's almost constant cries and squeals of passion left no doubt about the effect he was having on her and the banging of the headboard indicated the rapidity with which she was being fucked. Even if I had the sexual equipment, I lacked both the energy and stamina of the man so, for the first time, found my wife blameless in her choice. At the start I listened intently to them copulating but by the end, although my cock remained rigid, I think that my mind had become numb. So I was startled when the door burst open and Sandra ran across to leap on the bed. "I've got a big treat for you because you've never had one this fresh," she said excitedly, "It's less than a minute old and I think there's rather a lot so you really are in luck." I won't describe what Sandra started to call my 'cream pie supper' except to say that, to my great disappointment, the affect on me again pre-empted a need for a hand job from her. Next morning my wife was already busy downstairs when I arrived and I was shocked by her attire because she was wearing a blouse that barely covered her buttocks, a pair of high heel stilettos and nothing else. Normally this would have delighted me but now I had a feeling of dread as I queried her dress. "Huw prefers me like this when we are together for a while," she explained. "It's so I am always available to him. He likes to treat sex as a running buffet with lots of nibbles and going back for more. He says it makes sex last a lot longer than if you make a meal of it all in one go." Huw made his appearance half an hour later and I soon saw an example of what Sandra had spoken about. He was sitting at the table holding the newspaper propped up near his left hand, eating with his right and having brought in the food, my wife remained standing close by him on that side. She was pretending to be reading the paper but I could tell from the movement of her hips that he had his fingers inside her and I watched as he periodically removed his hand to carry food to his mouth with shiny fingers, before returning them to where they had been. This theme continued. When I returned downstairs after getting washed and shaved it was to find Sandra bent of the arm of a chair with him pumping into her from behind and later, following a short spell in the garden, I found Huw sprawled on the settee with her straddling his lap and bouncing enthusiastically up and down. On both occasions I did a rapid about face and exited the room but must admit that I then loitered to watch surreptitiously from outside the room. After lunch I suddenly realised that I was effectively allowing my rival's activities to constrain what I could do in my own home so I resolved to carry on as I normally would and simply ignore any sexual activities that he and my wife may be engaged in. In practice this proved almost impossible and I quickly abandoned all pretence and started watching quite openly. Sandra was popping out orgasms all the time but it gradually struck me that Huw had never allowed himself to cum all day, (unless he was given a blow-job to completion while I was away checking my Emails). We had a take-away delivered for the evening meal and afterwards sat and watched TV without anything particularly happening except that she was constantly running her fingers lightly up and down the length of his stiff shaft. I had long accepted that my wife was besotted by the guy but had not quite realised the degree that she was in thrall to his cock. A little after eight, Sandra got up and came over me, gave me a kiss and whispered, "Huw and me are going upstairs for a little privacy, don't come up. See you later, sweetheart." Huw I sat and watched TV alone with the sound up high. This time I made no attempt to listen and was actually quite relieved to be temporarily free of the all pervading sexual ambiance. It was near my usual time when I eventually retired to bed but I had not been there long before Sandra joined me, again with a 'gift'. When that bit was over she started fondling me and said, "I started early tonight so I'd be able to give you an extra good time. It's just to make sure that you don't start feeling left out." It is amazing how easily that seemed to redress the balance. The second morning followed the pattern of the first but after lunch it changed. Instead of retiring the pair of lovers performed serious sex in front of me and it was an education. I thought I had seen it all but they both now seemed to have moved into a higher gear and I was reluctantly impressed. It finished with her again bent over the chair arm with him violently pumping from behind. There was no mistaking the moment that he opened the flood gates and started filling her with cum because the influx of semen seemed to trigger palsied convulsions in my wife's lovely body. As soon as his now soft but still turgid cock flopped clear, Sandra ran round and lay back on the settee with her bottom on the seat edge and her legs spread wide. Looking at me she said, "Hurry up, it's already running down my leg." Without even thinking I went eagerly to her and it was not until I had actually sunk to my knees that I remembered the presence of Huw. Although I now unconditionally enjoyed this practice in private, doing it before an audience was completely different matter. I was mortified at the thought of performing in front of him but to get up and sneak back to my chair would be even more humiliating. Thankfully, once I had dived in, the thinking part of my brain went into neutral leaving me in a limbo of just taste and sensation. On returning to my chair I fully expected some crude caustic remark from my rival but none came and this made me realise that Sandra must have previously told him about my fetish and warned against making comment. Over the next two days, during between sex periods, Huw and I walked round each other barely exchanging a word, but at times I could tell that it was a struggle for him to suppress some snide jibe or other. On the Monday when clean-up was again needed during the evening I obliged without prompting but on the last day I remained in my seat. I think I was stunned by what I had just witnessed. The carnal display was obviously intended as a grand finale spectacular and it certainly held me enthralled as they progressed through a series of positions, all at full power. I had no choice but concede that if this was an example of true fucking then there was urgent need of a new word to describe the activity that I used to engage in. The net result was that when Sandra positioned herself for my attention I was a bit slow to respond. It was only a matter of seconds but Huw still felt the need to say, "Licky, licky time little man, Chop, Chop." I did what was required but on returning to my chair I was seething at the disparaging intervention by the other man. It turned out that he too was not prepared to leave well alone or maybe it was my look of hatred that provoked him to carry on with the verbal abuse by sneering ,"You really are a pathetic wimp. I'm a better man than you in every single respect. I'm the one who drives a brand new Porsche, I'm the one with a luxury pad and I'm the one fucking your wife, not you." He paused before adding, "You may have had some extraordinary luck so far at dice but I intend to beat you at that as well." I could not let that go unchallenged so I said, "You may have a much larger cock but I don't think inheriting a load of money makes you the better man." "I haven't inherited a bean," he snapped back angrily. "Then how?" I asked genuinely puzzled, "You may earn more than me but not enough to explain your kind of wealth." Huw smiled complacently. "The firm pays me an extra salary that they don't exactly know about." "You get it dishonestly." "It's simple. You can't don't satisfy your wife so I take her off you, the firm doesn't look after its systems properly, nuff said," Huw informed me tapping his nose. Sandra and I drink wine; Huw doesn't so he had arrived at our house with a generous supply of good liquor, which he had worked at demolishing during his stay. On this last evening he seemed intent that there should be none left for me to enjoy when he departed and I think over indulgence loosened his tongue. "I still don't understand," I muttered. Huw seemed proud of his cleverness. "It's simple. I artificially inflate usage and wastage figures so a surplus accumulates then I've set up a dummy supplier who has no need to deliver because the goods are already in store. All I actually need to do is send an invoice. It is absolutely foolproof because if there is ever a spot audit, all they will find is too much stock." "I couldn't do that. I think I'm too honest," I said with a bit of pride. "It has nothing to do with honesty," Huw stated categorically, shaking his head in contempt. "You couldn't do it because you're a total loser; you just haven't got the bottle. Show me a so called honest man and I'll show you a man without any balls." The conversation continued with more abuse directed at me but Huw's words became more and more incoherent until eventually my wife had to help him up to bed. She came through to join me far quicker than I expected and she was annoyed. "Why did you need to provoke him," she demanded. "He's gone and drunk himself stupid so he's no fucking good for anything. So that's no juicy treat for you and you know the rules, no suck means no wank and it serves you damn well right." Huw had already left when I got up next morning and I did not see him again until he joined the Wednesday dice game. He had abandoned his work environment joking persona and right from the start played with grim determination. We were the last two left and reduced to one life each. He offered me three aces king queen which I accepted, being able to tell from his lack of concern that the hand was there. I was still in trouble because it was 2 - 1 against bettering the hand if I rolled one die and he was certain to refuse anything I offered. The odds were still against me if I rolled both the king and queen but I chose the second option because it offered better bluff potential. I actually threw another two aces and now I was embarrassed because I didn't want a great stroke of luck to give me victory. So I told him, "Any five of a kind," but spoken as if I was conceding by making a hopeless call. Had he accepted Huw, could have just pushed an unbeatable hand back at me naming the aces. Instead he gloated saying, "I told you I was going to thrash you at your own game." Then slowly stretching out his hand, using only thumb and forefinger, he contemptuously flicked the cup over. As Huw sat staring unbelievably at the five aces there was a spontaneous burst of laughter round the table causing his face to flush scarlet. He stood up and, dived a hand into his pocket and extracted a screwed up pair of panties which he dropped on the table in front of me. "I almost forgot, your wife left them at my place last night," he said snarled triumphantly. Looking up at him I said calmly, "She used to pick a decent class of men but now she seems to be going for some real low lifes." Then to the table in general I explained, "You might as well know that we have an open marriage." This was not spur of the moment wit because I had prepared the riposte in anticipation of such an eventuality. My enemy was almost incandescent with rage. "But you might be surprised to know that Jeff.." he started to say and I could immediately anticipate the rest of the sentence, "....sucks my cum from his wife's cunt." My eyes met his and for a long moment our gazes were locked and until I saw him realise that he was not without vulnerability. Instead, of completing the sentence, Huw shook his head and muttered, "It doesn't matter, forget it," before turning and striding away to his office. That Friday Sandra visited as usual but when she returned she said, "Huw really doesn't like you at all and I don't know what you've done to upset him so badly. I would have thought it would have been the other way round. Having him here was a big mistake, I can see that now but I was hoping to set up one of those three way situations that they talk about in the forums. It's actually had the opposite effect." The following week Huw did not play dice at all and I half assumed that he was devoting his energies to afternoon sex with Sandra but on Friday night she got home extra well fucked and talking as if she hadn't seen him since the previous week. The following Monday morning I went into work to find people gathered in groups across the whole floor, all taking animatedly. When I reached my team I was told, "Huw's been arrested. The police have just taken him away upstairs." Behind me someone added, "Everybody knew he was on the fiddle so this was inevitable sooner or later. Serves the lecherous bastard right." From other comments around me it seemed that everybody knew that Huw was crooked but there were many different versions of what he had actually done. Half an hour later I had reason to visit the upper floor and there I found Huw sitting alone in a room. His hands were tucked into his lap but I caught a glimpse of handcuffs. On seeing me his face twisted, "I hope you are satisfied, you fucking bastard. Typical wimp, couldn't stand the thought of his wife leaving him for a real man so he stabs me in the back. It's got to be you because you're the only one who knew about my extra income." "I'm not sorry you've been caught but it wasn't me who informed," I told him. "I knew that turning you in would harm Sandra so I couldn't do it even though I would have liked to. Anyway, from what I've heard, everyone downstairs knew you were bent and maybe you were just too clever for your own good." Before he could reply police appeared so I quickly moved on. Gradually the big office settled down and work got done but Huw remained the only topic of conversation all day. Heading home I wondered how Sandra was going to take the news. In the event there was no big reaction, she said nothing but I thought I could see accusation in her eyes. "I didn't report him, honest," I quickly protested my innocence, "I know how much he means to you." "I know you didn't turn him in Jeff because it was me who did," my wife said softly. I couldn't grasp this. "But why?" was all I managed to say. "Because it was all getting out of hand. Huw was bugging me to cut you off from sex altogether and he wanted to really humiliate you. He has already bought a chastity device and his next target was to get you sucking his cock. For some reason he seemed more envious of you that you are of him. I think he actually hated you and that his ultimate aim was to drive you away. I couldn't let that happen because there are lots of men with big cocks in the world but only one of you." Feeling a perverse pity for my foe I said, "Wasn't informing on him a bit extreme, couldn't you just have told him you didn't want to go with him anymore?" My wife shook her head. "You know Huw is not the kind to just walk away. He'd always be calling and although I don't really like his character, when he's around I can't resist doing what he wants. That's why I had to get rid of him completely." There was a long pause and then she said, "The other reason is that I'm pregnant and if he ever finds out we'll never get him out of our lives."