87 comments/ 164612 views/ 42 favorites Lisa in the Bedroom By: ohio [Author's Note: Here's another story in modest homage to Harddaysknight, the master of the genre. Like my others of this type, the real actual title, not given here, is a Beatles song--in this case one that HDK has already used as well.] No man will ever be able to understand women. Trust me on this. If a man tells you he understands women, there are only four possibilities: 1) He's wrong. 2) He's a liar. 3) He's a fucking liar. 4) He's actually not a man at all, but a woman himself. **************** When you work in an office job for a large firm that develops and markets educational software, the days are not that exciting. Trust me on this. I like my work and I'm good at it, but "exciting" is not the most common description of my workdays. But one particular Friday back in September was quite unusual. First, around 10 am I got a call from Arianna Lendler, whom I hadn't seen in nearly 20 years. Ari Lendler and I were second cousins, and we grew up on the same street until I was 12, when her family moved to the west coast. We hung out together constantly--riding bikes, playing Frisbee and kickball, typical kid things--and while we'd totally lost touch over the years, I was delighted to hear from her. "Are you one of these fitness freaks who eats a yogurt while he's working out on the Stairmaster, Tommy, or can I buy you an actual lunch?" I laughed and said, "how about an extremely greasy, guaranteed-to-clog-your-arteries cheeseburger? With a large order of onion rings?" I picked her up at the Hyatt out by the highway, where she was staying for two-day business seminar, and we spent a wonderful hour eating our burgers and just reminiscing. Like me, Ari was happily married, though unlike me and Lisa she and her husband already had a couple of kids. I oohed and aahed over her pictures, we swapped stories of the joys and struggles of married life, and generally just had a terrific time. When I dropped her off back at the Hyatt we shared a big hug and kiss, along with solemn promises to stay in better touch from now on. I told her that Lisa and I were hoping to take a trip to Chicago next summer, and we'd get together with Ari's family for sure. I smiled to myself most of the afternoon, looking forward to telling Lisa about my nice visit with someone who had been such an important part of my childhood. But at about 5:15 any thoughts of Ari were completely driven out of my head. The building's fire alarm went off, and all up and down the hallway people groaned. Another false alarm, we assumed. But when Hank Thomas shouted out that he smelled smoke, we hustled out of our offices and towards the stairs. We were on the ninth floor, but everyone knew to stay away from the elevators. In the stairway we encountered a panicked secretary coming down from 11, shouting and crying that a co-worker and fallen and broken her leg and couldn't move. Hank and I headed up to 11, where we found a heavy middle-aged woman sitting on the landing sobbing in pain. Her foot stuck out at an odd angle and her ankle was beginning to swell. We asked her name and calmed her down a little, and then Hank and I together lifted Irene into our arms and carried her down the stairs. By the time we came out the fire doors, we were happy and relieved to see an ambulance waiting and two paramedics ready to take Irene off our hands. A couple of co-workers gathered around to congratulate us, and in another few minutes the fire crews who were already on the scene had put out the fire. It had started in a copy room on 6, apparently because some brain-dead asshole had tossed a cigarette butt into a wastebasket. Hard to believe, but then you can never go wrong betting the "over" on human stupidity. When I got home, Lisa was in the kitchen making a salad and I could smell something like lasagna in the oven. "Smells great!" I said, coming up and kissing her neck from behind. "You'll never believe what I did today!" I was cheerful and relaxed, and I hardly noticed that Lisa's face looked strained and drawn when she turned to look at me. When I thought about it later, I realized that she'd been crying. "Oh?" she said, trying to smile and looking a bit less unhappy. She sat down at the table and gazed at me intently. "Something out of the ordinary?" "You bet--I'm a hero! Well, me and Hank." I went on to tell her the whole story--of course my lunch with Ari had dropped completely out of my mind. When I was done, I expected a "congratulations," or a kiss and a hug, or a joke about "my hero"--something, anyway. Instead, Lisa just glared at me. "THAT'S your news today? That's what you wanted to tell me?" Tears came to her eyes, and without another word she jumped up from the table and headed to the bedroom. "Honey? What's the matter?" I followed, utterly baffled; but when I got there she'd locked the door and refused to let me in. "Go away! Leave me alone!" was all I could get out of her. I eventually went back to the kitchen, finished making the salad, and took the lasagna out of the oven when the timer went off. "Lisa? Dinner's ready." I knocked gently and spoke as warmly as I could. But all I got in reply was "I'm not hungry." So I opened a Corona and had dinner by myself, half-listening to the TV news and wondering what was troubling my usually cheerful and loving wife. Lisa eventually came out of the bedroom, a couple of hours later, and had some dinner. But she steadfastly refused to talk to me, let alone explain what was bothering her. When I climbed into bed I gave it one last try. "Honey, I have no idea what you're unhappy about--did I do something to make you angry? Please tell me so I can try to make it right." "Just leave me alone!" was all she said, in a voice full of tears. And when I heard her a few minutes later crying in the darkness and I reached out to her, she angrily pushed my arm away and cried out "don't touch me!" So I didn't. But I went to sleep wondering, for the thousandth time, why it was utterly impossible for a man to understand women. **************** On Saturday I rolled out of bed early, determined to make Lisa a nice breakfast and try to cheer her up--or at least get her to talk to me. We'd been married just under four years and I was totally in love with her. Lisa was gentle, funny, a little shy, and very pretty. She was a lot more "proper" than I was--no doubt the result of being a preacher's daughter from a small Texas town west of San Antonio--but intelligent and sensitive and devoted to me. I have to say, in fact, that no woman I'd ever dated before, and I'd had a few serious girlfriends, ever made me feel loved like Lisa did. If it sounds like bragging to say that she adored me, then so be it: she adored me. She made me feel every day like I was the ray of sunshine in her life, and I did all I could to make her feel the same way. I was a happier husband than anyone I knew. So I was pretty baffled by last night's behavior--and it was clear from her face when she came down to breakfast that whatever was going on was still going on. Lisa accepted my offer of coffee with nothing more than a silent nod, nor did she comment when I filled a plate for each of us with blueberry pancakes and sausages--her favorite breakfast, and something I liked to make for a special treat. She looked like hell: circles under her eyes and a drawn, unhappy expression frozen on her face. She usually enjoyed it when I read her bits of news from the paper,so I tried that. Nothing. Not a grin, not a snort, not a flicker. She seemed less angry than the night before, but more sad. "Lisa, honey--please, can't we talk about it? Won't you let me know what's bothering you?" She glared at me and shook her head. I could almost hear the words: "if you don't know, you moron, I'm certainly not going to tell you." Sighing, I got up to get us each some more coffee. Then I tried again. I asked what was new at her work. Lisa was co-manager of a specialty florist shop in town. She was an absolute genius at floral arranging, and her shop did a good business with the local hotels and the two nearby hospitals. Lisa said, "nothing's new." I asked if she'd heard from her parents lately, and wondered whether they'd come for a summer visit. "I don't know." I went back through the paper until I found a tiny story on page 3 of the Metro section about the fire at my office, and I read it to her. Jokingly I said, "I can't believe Hank and I didn't get mentioned--we saved that lady's life! They ought to give us keys to the city!" "Very funny," she said. More baffled than ever, I was determined not to give up. I racked my brain for something to entertain her with. "Oh, I almost forgot!" I said. "I was going to tell you about this last night, but then the whole thing with the fire pushed it right out of my mind. My cousin Ari Lendler--you remember the one who grew up on my street? She called me out of the blue yesterday. She was in town for some conference out at the Hyatt, and we had a great visit over lunch. She lives in Chicago now, she's married and has two little girls, 7 and 4--the cutest kids, judging by the pictures. They're--" I glanced at Lisa and stopped, astonished. There were tears streaming down her face but she was smiling radiantly. Before I could say another word she came around the table, plopped herself in my lap with her arms around my neck, and started planting kisses on my face. "Oh, Tommy, I love you so much!" she said, pausing to look right into my eyes. Then she kissed me some more, moving to my lips and getting my complete attention. After a couple of minutes she got up, still beaming at me, and took me by the hand. "I think I need something..." she said, and led me into the bedroom. When we got there she dropped her robe, pulled her nightie over her head--not without a little blush, as Lisa was quite modest and not used to being naked in the daylight--and said, "make love to me, Tommy." She came back into my arms, kissing me again as she got the pajamas and bathrobe off me, and in no time we were passionately making love. Lisa was as enthusiastic as I'd ever seen her; as I've said, she was a preacher's daughter and not exactly what you'd call uninhibited. In fact, when we got married I learned that she didn't know too much about sex beyond the missionary position, and her acquaintance with oral sex or such things as sex outside the bedroom was purely theoretical. Certainly our sex life was pretty vanilla. Lisa seemed to be much more concerned about pleasing me than about exploring her own sexuality. But we still made love at least a couple of times a week, and she was affectionate and receptive. If it wasn't hot like most guys' fantasy lives, and if the blowjobs were a rare occurrence (and timidly performed), I was still pretty happy about what I was getting. And that Saturday morning it was still vanilla--just hot vanilla. Lisa was all over me, kissing and touching, stroking my back as we fucked (in missionary position, of course), rubbing her legs on mine, telling me how much she loved me. It was some of the sweetest lovemaking we'd ever had. And if I was still totally, 100% baffled about what the hell was going on with her--well, I certainly knew enough not to initiate a discussion! When it was over we lay together, sweaty, and dozed in each other's arms. It wasn't until she roused herself after awhile and started kissing my neck that I ventured a question. "Lisa? What just happened here? Why were you so upset last night, and then suddenly so--" I laughed--"so amorous? "Not that I'm complaining, mind you! I just--" She shut me up with another long kiss and then sat back, smiling, looking loving and abashed. "Promise me you won't laugh at me, okay Tommy?" I nodded, and she said, "I was doing a delivery yesterday at the Hyatt, around lunchtime. They'd ordered six big arrangements for a late-afternoon wedding, and it was a rather complicated set-up. I was ... wait, all that's beside the point. "Anyway, I'd just pulled in and parked the van when I looked toward the entrance. And there you were, in the arms of this beautiful brunette! You hugged her for a long time, and then gave her a big kiss; and then the two of you talked and laughed for another minute. Then you kissed her again, and she went back into the hotel and you got in your car and drove away. "I couldn't believe it! I mean, I love you so much and I thought we were both so happy--and there you were, cheating on me with some, some, bombshell! I started to cry, and it took me almost twenty minutes to pull myself together. "I finally managed to take the flowers in, and then I went back to the shop and said I had to leave early, and I came home and cried all afternoon." By now of course I understood the story, and I was holding her hand and looking lovingly at Lisa as she continued. "I didn't know what I was going to do. I love you so much, but how could I stay with you if you were having an affair? "When you came home and said something special happened that day, for a split second I thought, 'thank God, I'm wrong--it's not what I thought!' But then you told me about you and Hank and the fire, and I figured you were just making a big deal about something else and I was right all along. "And then this morning--" she broke off to look at me, a little sheepish, "when you made that nice breakfast and tried so hard to cheer me up, I thought, 'well, he still must want to be married to me, or why else would he be so nice?' "But I knew I just couldn't stand letting you ... letting you see that other woman. And then you told me it was your cousin, the one I've heard you tell me so many stories about... "And I felt so happy! And like the biggest fool, both at the same time..." Lisa broke off, tears in her eyes again, and I comforted her and we laughed together and then we made love again, sweetly; and I felt like a very, very happy man. **************** Sounds great, right? A little marital miscommunication with a happy ending and some great make-up sex. Nothing to worry about--actually a happy memory to joke and tease Lisa about as the years go by. So why is it that five months later I'm sitting in a rented Ford Taurus parked across the street from Lisa's shop, waiting to see what she's up to today? How the FUCK did we get from there to here? As I told you, I couldn't imagine being better treated by a wife than I was by Lisa, so I was hardly a suspicious husband. But about a month after that little mix-up about Ari, things started to happen. Good things, at least at first. To put it bluntly, my sex life started improving. And it wasn't my doing, it was Lisa's. One Saturday night we went out to dinner, but when we were ready for dessert Lisa said she wanted to have it at home. "I have a surprise for you," she said quietly, smiling at me. And when we got home she told me to sit in the living room for a few minutes. "Watch a ballgame or something, honey, until I come back." Well, this sounded mysterious, but promising! I caught about an inning of the Reds giving up eight runs to the Cubs (only two of them earned--don't ask), until Lisa walked into the room carrying a tray. What a sight! On the tray was some kind of fruit tart, plus a bottle of champagne and two fluted glasses. But I hardly noticed that, because Lisa was a vision. Her hair was swept up around her head so that her graceful neck showed; and she was wearing only a short red nightie that barely covered her pubes. It was nearly transparent, and a pair of red lacy underpants were clearly visible underneath. When she turned around I could see that it was a thong, the first one I'd ever seen Lisa wear. "You like?" she asked. My jaw dropped and I just stared at her. Lisa was blushing and even trembling a little, as though she was trying hard not to give in to the urge to cover herself with her hands. After a moment I recovered enough to say, "damn right I like. That tart looks delicious!" Lisa made a mock-angry face, but I said, "and you don't look so bad either, baby. Turn around and let me get the whole effect." She modeled the outfit for me, then cut the tart and poured us each a fizzy glass of champagne. I insisted she sit on my lap while we ate and drank, and we toasted each other with one arm around each other. She wriggled her butt gently against the hard cock tenting the front of my pants. When we'd eaten the dessert I said, "this sure is a nice surprise," nuzzling and kissing her neck; and Lisa said, "let's take the champagne upstairs." She grabbed the bottle and let me follow her, enjoying the view of her shapely ass through the nightie as we headed for the bedroom. When we got there she undressed me without a word, then sat me down on the edge of the bed and knelt in between my legs, holding her champagne glass in one hand and staring right at my hard-on. "Tommy, I want to...could I, uh..." "Sure, honey--I'd love that." I grinned at her; who cares if Lisa feels too shy to say "give you a blowjob," as long as I get the blowjob? Hers were always a little hesitant, but I still enjoyed them. This one was a corker, though, with tricks that nearly took my head off. She began by taking it into her mouth and getting the top five inches or so wet--that was as far as she could take me. But then Lisa backed off and started licking me from base to tip, like an ice-cream cone. I'd seen this in porn, but she'd sure never done it to me before and I loved every minute. The whole time Lisa was watching me, making sure I was enjoying it. She alternated the licking with the usual sucking. Then she broke off to take a mouthful of her champagne and sucked my cock back into her mouth. Wow! The fizzy, bubbly feeling around my dick was tremendous, and I groaned and arched my hips towards her. She pulled off me, swallowed the champagne and said, "you like that, baby?" "Unbelievable," I said. "Where did you--?" But she just took another mouthful of champagne and did me again. She gave me this treat about 4-5 times, then started sucking me intently, stroking my balls with her hand, sliding down my cock as far as she could go and then backing off, building me up to a monster climax. I knew Lisa didn't like it when I came in her mouth, so as I got close I said, "baby, I'm gonna cum..." But she didn't back off, just kept working on me, and I groaned and jerked my hips and pumped a half-dozen shots right into her mouth. It was awesome, the best blowjob she'd ever given me. I leaned back on my elbows, drained, expecting her to jump up and run to the bathroom sink to spit. Instead, she smiled at me, looking a little uncomfortable, and I watched her throat working as she swallowed all of the cum in her mouth. Then she took a long drink of champagne, grinning at me, and said, "how was that?" I pulled her up and took her in my arms, lying with me on the bed. "That was fantastic, honey--unbelievable. Awesome! Where did you get the idea about the champagne?" She giggled. "Oh, one of the girls at work was talking about special things she does for her boyfriend. But I'm not telling you which one--I don't want you chasing after her!" I kissed her and said, "nothing to worry about. But tell her thanks for me, okay?" We laughed, and rested, and pretty soon we were touching and caressing and pretty soon after that we were fucking. Lisa assumed I'd want her to take her nightie and thong off but I asked her to leave them on. I got her up on all fours and did her from behind, pulling the crotch of the thong to one side so I could slide into her, and we had a terrific fuck. Usually when I try to caress her clit while we're fucking she stops me, says it's distracting--but this time when I slid one hand around her and down into her thong she just groaned and pushed back against me harder. I was able to last a long time, thanks to the blowjob, and she came at least twice before I got so worked up I had to come into her. Lisa in the Bedroom It was the hottest night of sex we'd ever had, and I made sure to thank her, both that night as we fell asleep and the next morning, over a nice relaxed brunch. She beamed and blushed a little, and said, "just trying to keep my man happy!" **************** Again--what's the problem, right? The wife in sexy lingerie, her best blowjob ever, a hot night of fucking, and the problem is ... what? That's certainly how I felt at the time. But ... things kept happening. About two weeks after the champagne blowjob, Lisa surprised me in the shower. I'd spent most of Sunday doing yard work and I was tired and sweaty. My hair was full of shampoo and my eyes were closed when I felt a momentary draft, and then my wife was holding me from behind, pressing her lovely breasts against me, kissing my neck. "Okay if I help?" Needless to say, I didn't seriously consider replying, "no, I'd rather shower alone." We hugged and kissed, and soaped each other up, and played and giggled. And when we were clean, and I had a big honking erection, she bent forwards and put her hands on the wall and said, "could we try it this way, Tommy?" Again, do you think I said, "no thanks?" I used my hands to find her opening and slid my cock slowly into her, all the way to the hilt, as we both groaned at the same time. And then we fucked, and it was fantastic. Intense, almost animal, unlike anything Lisa and I had done before. She started pushing her ass back, slamming against me. For awhile I didn't push too hard, afraid of hurting her; but then she got me so worked-up I grabbed her hips and thrust into her as hard as I could, and we both came at nearly the same time, staggering. I was wiped, and I had to lean against the wall to keep from falling. I could feel Lisa's legs trembling. I pulled out of her and turned her around and held her, her face against my chest, kissing her hair. We rinsed off without a word, and then I dried her gently with a big bath towel, picked her up in my arms, and carried her to bed, where we lay down and fell asleep, sweetly locked in each others' arms. A few days after that, I started hugging and kissing Lisa after dinner and said, "up for a little fun?" "Sorry, Tommy, my period started this morning." I started to say, "okay, honey, that's fine," because she never wanted anything to do with sex during her period. But to my surprise she continued, "how about if I take care of you tonight?" She led me into the bedroom, got us both stripped down, and gave me a wonderful massage, culminating in a gentle hand-job that had me panting. I thought she'd finish me that way; instead she gave me another blowjob. No fancy tricks like champagne or anything, but she took her time, showed plenty of enthusiasm, watching my face to see how I liked it, and again she let me shoot my cum into her mouth and swallowed it all, grinning proudly at me when she was finished. About two weeks after that, we were doing it in missionary position when Lisa's fingers started roaming around my ass, tentatively dipping into my asshole. We'd never gone anywhere near ass-play, either hers or mine, because it had made her very uncomfortable. She didn't even like to talk about it. So I was surprised--and aroused--by her exploring fingers. As I pumped harder, getting ready to come, she continued to tease me there, and at the last few strokes she slid a finger a couple of inches inside me. I bellowed and shot my sperm about nine miles up into her. And as I lay there, gasping on top of my sweet, sexy wife, I began to wonder: what the hell is going on here? On my way to work the next morning I thought hard about it. The frequency of our love-making hadn't changed dramatically--it might be up a little bit. But Lisa's openness to new things was startling. It wasn't just openness, either--she was the one taking the lead. Our sex life had recently featured 3-4 new pieces of lingerie, after Lisa saw how much I loved the red nightie. One time when we were getting ready to fuck and I assumed we'd do it in missionary position, she rolled onto her right side, pulled her left knee up towards her chest and said, "can we try it this way, Tommy?" So I slid into her that way, my chest against her side, and fucked her hard. We both liked it a lot. I also realized that Lisa wasn't as quiet as she used to be in bed. In our first few months as a couple I had to listen carefully for the changes in her breathing, or the little gasps, to learn what excited her. But lately she'd been sighing, groaning out loud a little, saying "oh, Tommy" or even "yes, YES!" as she approached a climax. I started making a mental list of all the tricks Lisa had introduced. She'd given me a reverse blowjob, lying on her back on the bed with her head hanging over the edge while I stood on the floor. That gave me a fantastic angle into her throat, and it was a weird thrill to feel my balls rubbing across her face while I gently thrust into her mouth. Okay, I thought, we'd been a little drunk that night--maybe that explained it. But what about the night we were fooling around and she suddenly led me outside to the patio, and had me do her bent over the table? It was a dark night, but the neighbors on either side could have easily heard us. That was hardly the behavior of my wife the preacher's daughter! By the time I got to work I'd started to be worried. What might better sex at home mean? It could be that Lisa was just loosening up, as she got more comfortable being my wife and the ties that bound her to her upbringing weakened. But why now? Why so suddenly? We'd been together more than four years, with a pretty limited sexual repertoire, and I hadn't been complaining. Then within a period of a couple of months, Lisa was making a high-speed transition from "girl next door" to "sex kitten." As unlikely as it seemed, and as much as I knew she loved me, I couldn't get past the possibility of an affair. It seemed crazy--I kept telling myself that. But then another part of me responded, "yeah, well, but her new sexual adventurousness is pretty crazy too, isn't it?" I had broached the question with her once or twice, after she suggested something new and wild. A week or so after she explored my ass I tried the same thing with her--carefully. We were making love on our sides and I caressed her ass, then experimentally touched her rosebud, expecting her to tense up. And she did, a little--but then she moaned and pushed her ass back towards my fingers, inviting me to go further. I worked my pinky all the way inside her and used it like a little dildo as we humped each other, and Lisa seemed to love it. When I brought it up, later that evening, Lisa's reaction seemed a little too chirpy. "Just trying to keep my baby happy!" she said, smiling at me; but I sensed some tension behind her eyes, something she wasn't saying to me. "I'm already happy, Lisa--you know that, right?" I said. "I mean, you don't have to do anything special for me." She came and sat on my lap, kissing me. "I know I used to be kind of a stick-in-the-mud, in bed I mean. And you've been so sweet with me, so patient. I guess I just decided it was time for me to, I don't know, spread my wings a little." Something wasn't right--I could tell. But I didn't push her any further, just kissed her and told her how much I loved her. **************** But I was uneasy. Uneasy enough to do something about it. I began by paying more attention--to Lisa's schedule, to the things she told me about work each day, to what she said about her friends or co-workers. I kept track of who she had lunch with, which days of the week she tended to be out of the shop a lot, and what days she seemed to be more or less into sex, or more or less "experimental." And after nearly two months I'd come up with: zero, pretty much. Lisa was never home late from work--or not more than about once or twice a month, and then it was only a half-hour or so. We always hugged when we first saw each other, and she never smelled either of sex or of a recent shower. I'd quietly checked 2-3 months of our phone records and hadn't found any mysterious numbers she'd been calling. I went through her purse one night, and the address book she kept in it, and came up with nothing that shouldn't have been there. It DID seem that Tuesdays were sexier than our other weekdays--like many working couples we had most of our sex, or at least our more relaxed sex, on the weekends. Weekday sex tended to be more routine and sometimes just a quickie. But Lisa had initiated sex on most Tuesday nights for the past few weeks, while I couldn't remember that having been a pattern in the past. Moreover, some of her "tricks" had made their first appearance on Tuesdays. So for lack of anything better to try, I focused on that day. I casually asked her as much as I could about her schedule on Tuesdays, without tipping her off to my suspicions. I called the shop several times on Tuesdays--to ask her to an impromptu lunch, or discuss dinner plans, or even just to say hi. And I dropped by once in a while, with the excuse that I'd been running an errand nearby. Once when I came in and Lisa was out on a delivery I chatted with Angela, the other manager of the store. I was very discreet, just asked "how's business," and so on; and I learned that in the past couple of months Lisa's delivery schedule on Tuesdays seemed to have picked up. "I never thought about it before," she said casually. "Tuesday's not usually that big a day, you know? Lots of things right at the end of the week. But lately it seems as though she's been doing a lot of running around on Tuesdays." On my way back to work that day I wrestled with my feelings. It still seemed absolutely crazy that Lisa could be stepping out on me. Nothing in her behavior or attitude suggested that she was bored; or angry; or felt contempt for me. She was still the loving, even adoring girl I'd married. On the other hand ... SOMETHING was going on. And I certainly wouldn't have been the first unsuspecting husband to learn that his wife had been hanging horns on him. Near the end of the day I knocked on the office door of Bob Mathis, my supervisor, and spoke to him for a few minutes about my schedule. Basically, I asked if I could take some half-days off on Tuesdays, and make up the hours by staying late on other days or coming in for half of Saturday. I explained that I was doing some kitchen remodeling and it was hard to do on the weekend when Lisa was home--much easier during the week when I was alone. I didn't want to push it and ask for the whole day--but I was a valued employee and Bob accepted my request without a second thought. I figured I'd watch Lisa some mornings and some afternoons, until I figured out when (if ever) she was up to something I needed to know about. **************** I hated to rent a car every seven days, but I didn't see any other way for Lisa not to spot me; so I bit the bullet and paid the $35 each week, hoping I wouldn't have to do it for too long. I didn't. Trying Tuesday afternoons first, I followed Lisa for three weeks. At least half the time she was in the shop, working on arrangements. And when she did leave in the truck it was for routine deliveries: hotels, the hospitals, occasionally a private home. I made careful note of the addresses, but she never went to the same house twice and was never out of the truck for more than five minutes. Was this good news or bad? Was I crazy, a foolish suspicious husband who saw Bigfoot lurking behind every tree? Was I chasing the Loch Ness monster? I had no idea--but I was in too deep to stop. Besides, on the second Tuesday afternoon I'd spied on Lisa--and found nothing--I came home at dinnertime to the biggest shock yet. The kitchen was empty, except for a note that said "waiting for you upstairs." And what I found in the bedroom was Lisa, stark naked, sliding a vibrator slowly in and out of her pussy while stroking one nipple with her other hand. (Needless to say we'd never had a sex toy in the house before--and I'd NEVER seen her masturbate. Just talking about the subject in the past had embarrassed her.) Her eyes were a little glazed and her hips were making small circling motions as she gazed at me. "Sorry, baby, I wasn't gonna start without you but you're a little late..." I wasted no time getting my clothes off and Lisa into my arms. We kissed and touched while she kept playing with the vibrator. She wanted me to plunge it into and out of her pussy while she blew me--that took a little re-arranging, with my feet up near the headboard, but it was worth it! As my vibrator work got her more and more excited her sucking got more and more intense. Finally she pulled away from my dick, panting and gasping, as the vibrator and my tongue on her clit brought her off in a screaming orgasm. It was the most intense one I'd ever seen her have. "Come here," she said, pulling me on top of her, and I started to fuck the hell out of her. We were doing it missionary, banging against each other, when she surprised me again. "Hang on a minute, baby," she said, pushing me gently off her. She arranged herself with her ass right at the edge of the bed and moved me around to stand between her legs. "Now come inside me again," she said, and handed me the vibrator. So I went back to fucking her, rubbing the vibrator all around her clit, and she went crazy. She bucked and humped and cried out and her pussy spasmed around my dick, and I fucked her like mad for as long as I could--which wasn't very long--before shooting into her with a loud cry of my own, and collapsing on top of her. "That was intense," I murmured, and she just kissed my neck and squeezed me in her arms. I raised up on an elbow, after a few minutes, and said, "Lisa--is there anything ... I mean, you've been so ... " And her face seemed to tighten, just a tiny bit, almost imperceptible, and she said, "just trying to make things fun, honey. I really love you." And she pulled me back down, my face against her neck--as if to make sure I couldn't keep looking into her eyes. Holding me like that she said, "it IS fun, isn't it? I mean, you don't mind ..." "Baby, it's been unbelievable!" I kissed her neck. "I have always loved making love with you, but you've been ... it's been fabulous!" She giggled happily, and held me tighter. So I switched to following her on Tuesday mornings. I mean, you can see why I didn't give up checking on her, right? **************** And, sadly, it didn't take long. Much of her Tuesday mornings was spent in the usual way: at the shop, or making deliveries to the hospitals or the hotels, or occasionally a house. But there was one house--at 238 Sanderson Lane--that she visited for four consecutive Tuesdays. And she was there at least an hour each time, sometimes an hour and a half. And she didn't deliver any flowers--just rang the doorbell, waited until the door opened, and stepped inside. **************** Probably three times would have been enough for me, or even twice. But I just couldn't believe it. I kept thinking it had to be something else, something innocent. And I kept going back. After the fourth time I just sat there, watching from a few houses away as Lisa's delivery van drive away. I just sat--and thought. My wife was cheating on me. But she loved me--was crazy about me!--and I loved her. But she was cheating on me. An hour a week with some guy--or woman?!--in a house on Sanderson Lane. It had to be something else! But what? Why would she be going there every week and keeping it a total secret? I mentioned that I'd been keeping careful track of her life, asking her lots of casual questions about her schedule, friends, work--and she'd given not the least hint of this regular "appointment." My mind cycled through a variety of possibilities: an aerobics class. She's taking dance lessons. Meeting an old boyfriend. Shit, no! Making a quilt as a surprise for my birthday. Being blackmailed for sex. Why?! Visiting the child she gave up for adoption when she was 16, or with a long-lost sister she never knew she had. The trouble was, none of the innocent explanations convinced me. And the fact that my once-repressed wife was now stretching our sexual boundaries with such zeal kept pointing me back towards the worst possible conclusion: she was fucking someone else. And out of guilt, or some desire to make it up to me, she was bringing home all the new tricks her lover was teaching her and teaching them to me. How do you think I felt about THAT? To say the least, it made me view all the fun we'd been having in a different, much more humiliating light. **************** I realized I'd been sitting there more than an hour after Lisa left, lost in my unhappy thoughts. A red Miata pulled up to the house, and a tall, long-legged, gorgeous brunette in tight jeans and a Miami Heat jersey strode up to the door, rang the bell, and disappeared inside. Motherfucker! Some guy wasn't content to just bang my Lisa every Tuesday morning, he had another cookie lined up as well? Suddenly all my confusion, all my drifting thoughts and indecisiveness were gone. I was pissed. I was fucking furious! I drove straight back to Lisa's shop, roaring through some yellow lights and even a couple of just-red ones. Lisa was at the back when I entered, adjusting some cut flowers in the refrigerated case. She turned and smiled broadly at me. "Hi, baby, what's--" I strode forward and took her by the arm, ignoring her startled look. "We're going for a ride. Angela, please excuse Lisa for a little while, it's kind of an emergency." "Tommy, wait, what's going on?" She resisted me a little as I pulled her towards the door. "You'll see, just come on." "But--" she resisted me, and I pulled harder. "NOW, Lisa!" Confused and frightened, she came along with me. I opened the door of the rental car and she turned, saying, "Tommy, where's your car?" "This is a rental--I'll explain later. Just get in." She complied, watching me with fear in her eyes. I swung the car out into traffic and headed back towards Sanderson Lane, my jaw set tight in anger. Lisa made several attempts to speak to me, to get me to tell her what was going on, but all I would say was, "you'll see soon enough." She gave up and sat back, making sure her seatbelt was on--I was driving pretty aggressively. It wasn't until I turned onto Sanderson that she stared at me and tried again. "Honey?" "Oh, now you know where we're going, do you? I guess you've been down this street often enough!" She started to whimper. "Baby, I'm sorry, I know I should have told you. It was just that--" "That what? That maybe I wouldn't be so happy about you getting a little on the side? That I don't really see myself as the cuckold type?" "What?" She stared at me, utterly dumbfounded. "Tommy, I ... I don't think you understand what ..." "Oh really?" I shouted. "I think I do, actually! And you're about to see that you're not this scumbag's only plaything, either, in case you had any illusions about that!" The red Miata was still in front of the house, and I swerved in to park right behind it. I jumped out of the car, ran around to Lisa's side to pull her out, and walked her briskly up the path to the front door. "Tommy, you're making a big mistake--it isn't what you think at all!" "Oh, isn't it? Well, we'll get to the bottom of this soon enough!" I rang the doorbell, waited five seconds and rang it again. I did this seven times, bursting with rage and impatience, before the door opened and an attractive Latina woman in her late 30s looked at me curiously. I could see the tall brunette from the Miata standing just behind her. They were both fully dressed. "Yes, what do you--Lisa! Hi honey, is this your husband?" She smiled at me warmly, not the least apologetic or abashed. Then she turned back to the brunette and said, "I'll see you next week, okay Monica?" Lisa in the Bedroom "Sure, Eva." The brunette gave Eva a quick kiss on the cheek and, giving me a wary look, moved past us, down the path and back to her Miata. "Now then," said Eva, turning back to me with a smile. "I'm Eva Cantorella and you must be Tommy. I've heard so much about you from Lisa--how can I help you?" I was pretty floored. I'd run through a number of ways this scene might play out, but I hadn't come up with this one! Next to me, Lisa giggled a little, her face a mix of amusement and fear. "Uh, perhaps I've made a mistake here," I said hesitantly. "I had the impression that, that, uh ... that you and Lisa ..." I stopped, at a loss, and Eva said, "why don't you both come in and sit down?" She led us into a room at the back, got us seated, and without a word disappeared, returning almost instantly with glasses of water for each of us. Then she sat down gracefully in a chair across from us, smiled at me and said, "Lisa, it seems you ... haven't told your husband yet?" My fists clenched, and Lisa reached out tentatively to take my arm. "Baby, I'm so sorry--I know shouldn't have kept Eva a secret from you. But I was embarrassed, you know?" I jumped up, fighting back the impulse to scream. Controlling myself with difficulty I said, "Lisa--what ... is ... going ... on ... here? Exactly what have you and this woman been doing in this house every Tuesday morning?" Lisa looked down at the floor, silent. But before I could yell at her, or storm out of the house, or think of what else I should do, Eva said, "I've been giving your wife sex lessons." **************** As they say in the theater, "a lengthy silence ensued." Now, you may think I'm the world's stupidest husband. Perhaps you saw this coming a mile away. But there were lots of reasons it hadn't occurred to me--first among them that Lisa, the uptight daughter of two extremely uptight and religious parents, could no more have gone out and signed up for sex lessons than she could have taken a part-time job as a stripper. It was, as they say, unimaginable. So I sat there, slack-jawed, until Lisa finally raised her face to look at me and said, in a tiny voice, "it's true, honey. I just wanted to make you happy..." **************** And when we were back home--when the conversation with Eva was over, when she'd made clear that the "lessons" had involved talking only, when I'd made my apologies and she'd laughingly forgiven me, and she'd wished us good luck, and we'd made our silent way back to the rental car office and then home in my car, all without saying a word--I led the way into the living room, stopping only to open two bottles of beer from the refrigerator, and I sat Lisa down across from me and said, "okay. Talk to me." Lisa blushed. And she said, "I'm so sorry, Tommy--I've never kept a secret from you, and I hated keeping this one. But I was so embarrassed ..." I waited. She said, "remember when you ran into your cousin Ari, and I saw you two together and took it the wrong way, and got so upset?" I nodded, and she went on. "Well after that, I couldn't stop thinking about it. About--about how upset I was, when I thought you had cheated on me. "I mean, I'd just die if I lost you. If anyone took you away from me. And I realized that--" She got up and burrowed in next to me on the sofa, pulling my arm around her and resting her head on my chest. I think she was finding it hard to look at me. "--that I wasn't exactly the world's wildest, most exciting lover. I was so repressed! Everything made me blush, or embarrassed me. And I didn't want you to get bored with me ... "So I went on-line and poked around for sex therapists and counselors, and I found Eva. I can show you her website, if you like. She's got a MSW degree and specializes in, uh, sexual issues. And I called and talked to her for a long time, and she seemed so nice! So patient and understanding. "So I ... I started seeing her, once a week. And it was, I don't know, kind of like a mixture of therapy and "how-to" lessons. I mean, we talked about my upbringing, of course, and things that I did and didn't feel comfortable with. "And after about a month we started talking about, about 'things' I could do--I mean sex things, like champagne in my mouth while I, uh, blew you--or sexy lingerie. And positions and stuff, and even ... toys." During this whole recitation, or confession, Lisa had her face pressed into my chest. I knew how hard it was for her to talk about this stuff, and in my enormous relief I just held her close to me, smiling broadly. Suddenly she looked up at me, an appeal in her eyes. "And didn't you like it? I mean, the things I ... we did? Wasn't I being a ... more sexy lover for you?" "Yes, you were--you are." I kissed her. "And I've loved all of it--every minute of it. "But you know, I also spent a couple of really unhappy months worrying ... and today I made a first-class fool of myself in front of a perfectly nice woman I've never met before." Lisa squeezed me harder. "I know, and I am SO sorry. For all of it. But I never thought you'd ... I mean, how could you possibly think I would ever cheat on you, Tommy? Me? The way I feel about you?" "I know, I know. But the sex kept getting wilder and wilder, and I couldn't figure it out. It was so unlike you ... both to be willing to try this stuff, and even to know about it." We sat, holding one another. And then after a few minutes Lisa stood up, took my hand, and said, "come with me." She led me into the bedroom, stripped us both, flung herself on the bed and pulled me down next to her, where we kissed, touched, whispered and, ultimately, fucked. It was pure vanilla, no tricks, and it was wonderful. And when we were done and we lay together, smiling, she said, "do you want me to stop?" I raised an eyebrow at her and she said, "with the tricks, I mean. There are a bunch more I've talked about with Eva that we haven't gotten to yet. Do you want me to just forget about them?" I pulled her back down on me, kissing her for a long time. And then I said, "no--I don't think you need to do that. "How about if we start taking turns with our 'tricks'? I have a couple of things I'd like us to try, and we can mix them in with your ideas, okay?" "Sounds good!" she said. "But no other people, okay?" looking serious, and I said, "no other people--ever." "Good!" she said, and snuggled down closer to me. We dozed for a while. And then she nudged me and I opened my eyes. She was blushing, and she said, quietly, "Tommy? Do you want to do it in, I mean ... would you like to put it in my, uh, my bottom?" "You mean fuck your ass?" I said loudly. She giggled and blushed some more; and then she said, "yeah, my ass. Tommy, come and fuck my ass! I want my husband to fuck my ass!" So I said okay.