54 comments/ 124363 views/ 19 favorites Suspicion Times Two By: Night Scribe Saturday, 2:00 PM (Bob & Sam) Despite five years of what I considered to be a perfect marriage, I have felt dejected for the past two weeks. We were getting ready to go over to Tom and Nancy's for grilled steaks and a bit of socializing. We had moved to this neighborhood about a year ago, and had been to several of their informal socials before. This time however, it would be just them and us. I guess Tom was an all right kind of guy, but a little too forward for my taste. He openly flirted with the ladies and at times let his hands roam just a bit too much. Throw in a bit of arrogance and you have Tom, a guy some people found easy to dislike. Nancy was just as big of a flirt as Tom, but without the arrogance. She was fun, energetic, bubbly, considerate, and often the life of the party. She was also a persistent tease, and I have had to extract myself from her more than once when dancing at some of these get-togethers. She did like to get up close and personal and it didn't seem to make any difference who she was dancing with at the time. "Damn it, Samantha! Are you going to spend all day in the shower?" Sam, short for Samantha, is my wonderful, loving, devoted, and now cheating wife of five years. I know, at least I think I know, she has not been completely faithful. Hence the real reason for my crummy mood. All I need is the proof, like catching her in the act. I tried that yesterday. She said that she had a business lunch to go to and would be a little late getting home that evening. So I took yesterday afternoon off, went over to her work with the intention of following her, and catching them in the act. Fred, my good fishing buddy, is the culprit and when I catch them I will have a few choice words for him, and maybe a right cross to his chin as well. Fred is not married and he does love the ladies. I used to like listening to his tales of conquest of this girl, or that married woman, or whatever. But when I figured out that one of those married women included my dearly beloved wife, well, needless to say, Fred and I will not be fishing together anymore. "Samantha! Will you hurry up? We'll be late." "Okay! Okay! Just a minute! Have a little patience. Will ya?" They had been seen in a bar together about five weeks ago, just a week before our birthday. We were both born on the same day of the same month of the same year. I am exactly 12 hours older than Sam. I was born at 5:10 AM and she was born at 5:10 PM. I still tease her about me being older and wiser once in a while. The bar was right next to the hunting and fishing supplies store Fred and I use. Fred was sitting at the counter drinking a beer when she walked in, and said: "Hi, Fred. I've got a problem, and I think you're just the guy to help me with it." He looked up, and said: "Well hello, Sam. Grab a stool and tell me all about it." I do not know what they talked about, as my witness was too far away to hear. They talked for about fifteen minutes and then they got into his truck and drove away. They returned about three hours later. She leaned over, kissed him on the cheek, got out of his truck and into her car, and left. I remember asking her what she had done that afternoon and all she said was: "Wouldn't you like to know." And then she went upstairs and took a shower. I didn't find out about this little episode until two weeks ago during boy's night out. Mike, Tom's friend, took me aside and told me all about it. The thing of it is, she has been acting a little reserved with me for the past couple of weeks. Reserved hell, no sex. Between the headaches, upset stomachs, and being too tired, not even so much as a decent kiss. To top everything off, yesterday afternoon had been a complete waste of time. When I got to her work, her car was already gone. I started out driving past every restaurant and lunch counter that I could think of. No luck. I then toured the parking lots of the most likely bars. No luck. I checked all the hot-sheet hotels I could think of. No luck. I drove by asshole Fred's house, twice. No luck. I even drove past our house a couple of times. No luck. Wherever the hell she/they went, they were damn good at not being found. All I managed to accomplish was a wasted afternoon and an almost empty gas tank. She was home when I got there, and I knew she had been up to something by the look on her face. "The shower is all yours." Wow! There she stood, in all her glory. Damn! I could just sit and look at her forever. She had her hair gathered up under a towel that was wrapped tightly around her head. Long flowing dark hair that didn't stop until just below her shoulder blades. Soft brown eyes, small turned up nose, and a mouth that is so kissable. That is except for the past couple of weeks. Perky, 36c breast, 26" waist, and 38" hips. That's her all right. I got up and started ... "Don't even think about it, Robert. Go take your shower. Make it a cold one." "Yes dear." Yep, that's me. Robert. Usually, she says Bob, but lately it has been Robert more often than not. I haven't heard Boobbyyy ... which is what she often says in the throes of passion, for the past two weeks. Oh well... ***** Saturday, 2:30 PM My handsome, loving, devoted, cheating husband of five years hung his head and went into the shower. He has been on my bad side for two weeks now and that's not going to change anytime in the near future. Boy's night out my ass. More like boy's night to go out and fuck some damn whore. The nights out started right after we bought this house, a little over a year ago. New to the neighborhood, we wanted to blend in, have friends, be good neighbors, and do all of the things normal people do. Every couple of months the guys would supposedly go to a sports bar, watch some game on the big screen, yell and scream, and have a few beers too many. Not wanting to be left out, we girls would go to a quieter bar and have a few drinks of our own. Not only would we gossip about anyone that didn't show up, we would exchange rumors about one another face-to-face. This was our time to let our hair down and have a little fun even if it was at someone else's expense. No one ever got their feelings hurt too badly, and we always remained friends when we left. Tom and Nancy's is where we are going this evening. Tom is an ass. He always pulls me way too tight to him when we dance and he can't keep his hands off my ass. I had to slap him once when he copped a feel of my breast. Thank goodness Robert didn't see it. He would have made a big scene right there. I have no idea what Nancy would have thought about it. Nancy is a predator. That's the only way I know how to describe her. She dances with most of the guys the same way Tom tries to dance with me. I get the feeling she would take Robert to bed in a heartbeat if she had half a chance. Tom and Nancy are an okay couple and they are fun to hang out with once in a while. They were just a little more freethinking than we were. Us? Just what are 'us' thinking? What am I thinking? I haven't been able to think straight for two weeks. Not since Janet, Nancy's friend took me aside and told me of Robert's busty girl friend. She had seen Robert in one of the better downtown restaurants having lunch with some big-busted redhead. Evidently, this little tryst took place just a week before our birthday. The thing is, Robert had started to act a little secretively about that time. Like there was something he wanted to keep hidden from me. Well, that isn't going to work. As a matter of fact I attempted to catch him out yesterday, but it was a complete waste of time. I had told him of a business lunch and a probable late meeting yesterday and that I might be a little late getting home. For just a moment he got a far off look in his eyes, and then appeared to make a decision. It was so obvious. He saw a chance to be with his red-haired bimbo. Well, I knew how to take care of that. The first thing I did yesterday morning was cancel my lunch and meeting and reschedule them for early next week. I then told my boss that something unexpected had come up, and I had to have the afternoon off. He reluctantly agreed. I left work about 11:30 and headed for Robert's work. Due to midday traffic, I didn't get there until about five after twelve and guess what. His car was already gone. So I started searching the parking lots of the most likely places. Restaurants, bars, motels, I even went by our house three times. I finally give up about 6:30 and went home. Robert came home about fifteen minutes after I did, and he had the most guilty look on his face that I have ever seen. Needless to say we didn't talk much last night. That was the problem. I didn't know how to talk to him about this. We have had the perfect marriage up until now. We have never been out of sorts or upset with one another. I know that we have to talk, I just don't know how to start the conversation. I can't just tap him on the shoulder and ask him if he's been sleeping with someone else, can I? Damn it, I really didn't want to go there this evening but I didn't see any way out of it. We had made this commitment at our birthday party. Tom would probably find some excuse to get close and bump or rub against my ass and ... and ... That's it! I can make this work and I know just how to go about it. If Robert, Bobby boy, Casanova thinks he has the market cornered on fooling around, well, he has another think coming. I'll just make this little party work for me tonight. ***** Saturday, 3:00 PM Wow, I was thinking, nothing is as good as a long, hot shower to make the body feel better. Just standing there, soaking up the heat, breathing the hot moist air in and out of my lungs. It's so relaxing. Too bad it doesn't work as well on the mind. I've been in here for thirty minutes and my fingers are starting to wrinkle. Time to get out. I toweled off and went into the bedroom. There she sat at the vanity, in a medium powder blue thong and bra. Bra hell, it was one of those support only things that only covered the bottoms of her tits. The damn thing didn't even cover her nipples. What in the hell was she thinking? "Uh, honey, is that what you're wearing this evening?" "This, and that dress laying on the bed. Why?" "Well I, oh, never mind." Dress? Dress on the bed? That dress on the bed. No, not that dress on the bed. A full skirt bottom that stopped four inches above her knees, and would flair straight out with even a slow twirl. A tight waist, and the top was low enough to show the upper third of her breast, a billowy top that if she bent over slightly, you could see almost all the way down to her belly button. That dress, that thin light blue cotton dress, the one she wore when we were on our honeymoon at that little private cabin at the lake. The one she said she could only wear for me. The one she could never wear in public because it showed too much. I remember seeing her standing in the doorway of that cabin, the sun behind her, and she was right. It did show too much. I could see right through it. Now what? Am I going to suddenly get lucky tonight? She must have been watching the play of emotions crossing my face because when I turned back to her, she was sitting sideways on the chair looking at me, and said: "This is comfortable to wear. Would you rather I put something else on? Maybe something red? I hear you've taken an interest in red lately. Now get dressed, or we will be late." If looks could talk, I just got accused of kicking the cat, beating the dog, making funny noises in church, and maybe even belonging to the wrong political party. Now where the hell did that come from? Only one way out. Do what all men do at times like this. The wimp in me reared its ugly head back and meekly said: "Yes, dear. Sorry. I lost track of time in the shower." I then did as instructed. Polo shirt, shorts, socks, loafers, and bill fold in the right side back pocket. I turned just in time to see the dress fall down over her head and settle around her body. She came over, turned her back to me and said two words: "Zip me." Again, my reply was perfect: "Yes, dear." She picked up the long scarf that went with the dress, wrapped it around her middle, tied it, and said: "Let's go." ***** Saturday, 2:00 PM (Tom & Nancy) Unlike the icy blue atmosphere at Robert and Samantha's, things were in the pink at Tom and Nancy's. Well, one thing was in something pink. Four large well marinated T-bone steaks rested patiently in the refrigerator. Four very large double foil wrapped potatoes sat beside the T-bones. Nancy had just finished making the salad and it waited on the shelf below the steak and potatoes. A seven-foot tall privacy fence protected their entire back yard. That was something that was very necessary, considering what often went on there. It was the table under the covered patio that was currently in use. Tom and Nancy had searched long and hard for that table. It was exactly the correct height for its current use. Nancy's thighs barley touched the edge the table. Her legs were comfortably spread and her shorts and bikini panties lay loosely around her left ankle. She was bent ninety degrees at the waist, her upper body lying flat on top of the table. Her breasts were pushed out to each side. Her arms were stretched straight out to each side, hands gripping the edges of the table. Her right cheek lay against the table and her eyes stared out across the swimming pool, not focused on anything in particular. Although it was her husband, Tom, fucking her, her thoughts weren't on him. Instead, they were on Bob and Sam. Tonight she and Tom were going to seduce them; introduce them to the pleasures of swinging. It might take a little added persuasion and she hoped that Bob and Sam would thank them when it was all over, just as several other couples had in the past. It would make Tom happy, and that's what was important to her. ***** Tom was watching the ripples climb Nancy's ass each time he bumped into her. Other than in their bed, this was his favorite place to fuck. Damn, but he liked watching his dick slide in and out of his wife's pussy, and this was the perfect position to observe it. Besides his wife, he had observed over twenty different women in this position, at this table. Sometime soon, he expected to have Sam on this table, in this very position. He hadn't forgot about Sam slapping him a while back. Just because he had fondled her precious little titty. He would have his revenge for that. Not tonight, no, tonight he would fuck Sam's brains out on the king-sized bed in his bedroom. But soon, like maybe next weekend, he would be fucking Sam just like he was fucking his wife right now, and he wouldn't be gentle about it either. They had been fucking for less than ten minutes and he could feel Nancy start her third orgasm. It was what her pussy did during orgasm that had convinced him to marry her. Among select company, he often joked that his wife had a million-dollar pussy. Every man and woman had agreed with him. She couldn't have kids and that was fine with him. He didn't care about kids anyway. They just got in the way. Besides, her pussy more than made up for that deficiency. During orgasm, her pussy spasms were so rapid that it almost felt like a vibrator was surrounding his cock. She hit her peak and this drove him over the top. One final thrust and he was right there with her in orgasmic bliss. ***** Saturday, 5:30 PM The steak was good. It had been cooked to perfection by Tom. The baked potato was perfect. When it come to steaks and baked potatoes, Tom had every right to be arrogant. The salad Nancy had prepared was a work of art. Those two could start a restaurant and make a bundle of money. So far, the food was all that had went right this evening. I was brooding. I wasn't showing it but I was. I was also peeved. I wasn't showing that either. Speak when spoken to. Laugh at the right time. Smile. That's what I kept telling myself. Just smile. We had been here for about an hour and a half when Sam had to go to the little girl's room. I took that opportunity to follow her and walked into the bathroom right behind her. "Sam, what's going on here? What do you think you're doing?" "What's the matter, Bobby? Can't I have a little fun, too?" "Oh, so it's Bobby now. Not Robert? Is that you, or the wine talking? "Hey, Bobby, counting drinks now are you? Well, I came here to have fun, and I'm going to have fun." "Look, Sam, just cool it a little, please." "Just what do you mean by that?" "Just what I said. Tom has had his hands all over you this evening, and I don't like it." "Well, I notice Nancy has given you a fair amount of attention. I hear she's thinking of dying her hair red. You'd like that wouldn't you, Bobby?" Oh boy, this is going nowhere fast. She's well on her way to a good drunk and I don't think there is anything I can do about it. Maybe if I could ... "Would you please leave? I want to potty in private." No sense in upsetting her any more than she already is. "Yes, dear." I opened the door, stepped out of the bathroom, closed the door, and started walking back toward the patio. Wait a minute here! What is it with her and red? That's the second time today she has asked me about red. First she asked me if I wanted her to wear red clothes and now she asked if I would like Nancy to have red hair. What in the hell is going on here? Nancy is blonde. Why would she want to have red hair? Saturday 8:00 PM The game room. That's what they called this. A two-story house with a full basement and the basement was the game room. Carpeted floor, big screen TV, cable fed, with VCR and CD players hooked into it, and a large couch and a couple of easy chairs in front of it. There was a small wooden dance floor right in the middle, and a couple of more couches and easy chairs against the wall. A regulation size pool table dominated the opposite end of the room. An old-fashion jukebox sat next to the bar. It was a mahogany bar with four padded stools in front of it. A fully stocked bar. I wasn't brooding any more. I give that up about an hour ago. It was the stock behind the bar that held my interest for the moment. Several years ago, I had discovered Crown Royal and 7Up. I liked Crown and 7. It didn't taste bad and most important, it didn't burn on the way down. I finished making my drink, came around to the front of the bar, and sat on one of those stools. The jukebox was blaring and Sam and Tom were dancing to something called The Peppermint Twist. Yep, that's Sam all right. Sam, short for Samantha, that's her. Right out there on the dance floor. Her tits were bouncing and swaying and about to come out of her dress. Ass jiggling. Her head was going in circles and that long ponytail she had her hair tied into was flying all over the place. The bottom half of her dress was flying all over the place too. Every few seconds she would twirl or make some other fast move and that dress would flair out and everything from the top of her hips down would be exposed. That was a blue thong that she was wearing. A powder blue thong. I know that's what it was because that's what she told me it was the first time she wore it. That was for our birthday a little over a year ago. Yep, there goes the dress again. Man, what a sweet looking ass she has. It not only looks sweet; it is sweet. I know, cause I've kissed and licked it. It's sweet all right. I've kissed and licked the front, too. You know, the part that's almost hid by the almost panties. It's even sweeter than the back, if that's possible. Damn! She has a beautiful ass. I can tell that Tom thinks so too. Tom is a great guy. He cooked the steaks and baked potatoes earlier this evening. Right now, he was cooking right there on the dance floor. Tom's body was moving just as much as my wife's body. Well, his eyes weren't moving much. They were locked on Sam. She shakes her top, and eyes on tits. She twirls, the dress comes up, and eyes on her ass. Dress up, eyes down, dress down, eyes up. Yep, his eyes were well trained and they were sure getting lots of exercise tonight. I was beginning to feel a little better about Tom now. He hadn't attempted to paw Sam since supper. Even during a couple of slow dances, he had kept a respectable distance between them. Suspicion Times Two Did I tell you about Crown and 7? I like Crown and 7. When mixed correctly, they are my friends. I think I need a friend. Oops, my glass is empty. I need another friend. Just a minute while I mix me another friend. I'm back now, back on my little stool. I'm supposed to be playing pool. Nancy is playing pool. She's good. She's won every game tonight. She is about to win another one. Looks like there are only a couple of balls left on the table. It's not my fault that I haven't won. That silk blouse she is wearing looks like it's about to rip open. It hasn't helped any at all that those 38d tits of hers have been distinctly defined in that blouse. I know she doesn't have a bra on under that blouse. There's no ridge across her back and her nipples are too well defined in the front. I am positive that blouse is going to explode any minute now. There she is, bent over the table, facing away from me. Her left foot is on the floor, and her right leg and foot are stretched out along the top edge of the table. She's looking back at me over her left shoulder, and saying something about the corner pocket. I nod; she sights back down her stick, and shoots. Yep, the good old eight ball drops in the corner pocket. She just happens to have a pretty good looking ass herself. I know, because those thin tight velvet like shorts she is wearing look like they were painted on. She may be wearing shorts, but there is nothing left to the imagination. She must shave because if there were any hair down there, it would be outlined just like the rest of her. Damn! My glass is empty. I need another friend. Hang on a second. I'm back now. Back on my stool, and a new friend in my glass. "Rack 'em up big boy. That's eight in a row I've won now." "Be right there, Nancy." The jukebox had been blaring out something called Alley Oop, what ever that was. That was a dance that sure had some weird moves to it. The machine was quiet now, I could almost hear myself think, I think. Saturday, exactly 9:15 PM I heard Sam say something about the little girl's room and she walked right in front of me on her way to the stairs. Was that a smile on her face? Nope, a smirk. A very minor change and it would be a smile. A very big difference in meaning though. I do know the difference. I've seen the smirk a lot the past couple of weeks. A smile would have meant that I was going to get lucky, and get my bones jumped tonight. The smirk told me I was staying on my side of the bed tonight, and that I better keep my hands to myself. Peripheral vision. That ability to look straight ahead and yet be able to see something that happens off to the side. For some reason, despite the influence of several glasses of my friend, mine was working quite well. I saw Tom look at Nancy and wink. She nodded, winked back at him, and held up one finger for a couple of seconds. That's nice, Tom and Nancy are flirting with one another. I wish Sam would flirt with me. "Hey you! Ya, you! The one looking at the bottom of an empty glass. Get over here and rack 'em." "Okay! All right, already! I'm on my way." I slid off the stool and started for the table. Well now, this ain't too bad. By golly, I can still walk. I arrived at the table in good order and still vertical. Not too bad; considering. "I'll get 'em out of the pockets, and roll 'em to you. You rack 'em." "Thanks, Nancy, you're all heart." I got all the balls in that little triangle thing, positioned the first ball right over the dot, and hung the rack back on its peg. I found my stick, and went to the other end of the table. Nancy was waiting for me there. The Nancy that was wearing the blouse that was about to explode and the shorts that were painted on. "Here, tiger, give me your stick." She took it from my hand and laid it on the table beside hers. Then her arms went around my neck, my head was tilted down, and I felt her lips on mine. Lips tell a story of their own at times. Hers were saying hello in the nicest way, and promising a lot of things to come. I did it. I kissed her back. She felt so good, so natural, like she belonged there, and wasn't going anywhere for a long time. Then I felt her tongue asking for permission to enter, and I had a wake-up call. I froze for a second and then tried to step back. I had to unwrap her arms from around my neck before we could separate. "Nancy, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that." "Why not, Bob? I want you to do that, and so much more." "No, it's wrong. Sam wouldn't approve, and I don't approve either." "How do you know Sam wouldn't approve? She just might, you know." "Why do you think that? "If I could prove to you that she approves, would that change your mind?" "What do you mean, Nancy? How can you prove that she would be okay with something like this? Do you know something that I don't know?" "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do know something that you don't. Come with me." She led me to the couch that was in front of the big screen TV, reached down between the cushions, pulled out a pair of red silk panties, and handed them to me. I took one look and knew there was trouble ahead. Serious trouble. Those were Sam's panties. No doubt about that. Red, silk, bikini cut, and neatly scripted writing with white thread across the back. "Bob's Ass." And an arrow pointing down. Across the front was "Bob's Pussy." And an arrow pointing down. Yep, they were Sam's all right. I had a matching pair of boxers at home. Same color, and same type of writing. The real difference though, is that the crotch of mine wasn't stiff with dried cum. It's amazing what the effects of alcohol can do to the body. It effects different people in different ways. It tends to make me mellow. It puts me at ease. Just four or five drinks, and I'm in wonderland. No wonderland now, no mellow, or at ease. I went ice cold. I got the shakes. My heart kicked in and I went white hot. My heart was beating at about three times the normal rate. I could feel it in my temples. My mind was clear as a bell now, and I knew it was time to take action. I have no idea what Nancy was thinking, but she must have seen something on my face, or perhaps in my eyes. She looked scared. She grabbed my left arm, and said: "Please, Bob, please. Just stay down here with me. Stay and make love to me." I placed my right hand on the middle of her chest and pushed. I didn't push all that hard; at least I didn't think I had. But when she skidded across the cushions and hit the back of the couch, the damn thing almost tipped over. Thank goodness I didn't hurt her. Tears were running down her cheeks and she was trying to talk: "Please, please, Bob, please stay here with me. I'll be so nice to you. I'll make beautiful love to you. We'll make love right here on the couch, and you will feel so much better. Please?" "That's not going to happen, Nancy, not now, not ever!" I glanced around the room. "Tom? Where's Tom?" I looked back at Nancy. She was sitting in the middle of the couch now, knees pulled up tight to her chin. Her arms were wrapped around her legs, and tears were still running down her cheeks. "Where's Tom?" I demanded. She flinched. Damn it, I didn't mean to sound so rough. "Nancy, where's Tom?" I softly ask again. ***** It was a mistake. Nancy realized that now. Right after supper she had taken Tom aside and told him to back off. It was obvious to her that Sam was openly flirting with Tom. She told Tom to just take his time and let Sam seduce him. Besides, things would work out better that way anyhow. She now saw how bad her judgment had been. She had taken Bob's uneasiness during supper as first time swapping jitters. She now knew that he had been highly agitated and was forcibly holding himself in check. Then, soon after Tom stopped openly flirting with Sam; Bob had mellowed out. Then they went to the game room and Bob had switched from beer to some kind of mixed drink. They all had started out playing pool, but that hadn't lasted long because Sam had asked about the jukebox. Tom immediately fired it up, and he and Sam were soon dancing. By this time Bob had had two or three drinks, and looked like he was feeling no pain. She could see that he was alternately checking her, and his wife, out. He didn't even look away when she looked back at him and winked. He just smiled and acknowledged her by toasting her with his drink. At this point she knew beyond any doubt that she and her husband were going to get thoroughly fucked by this new couple tonight. Then she had thoughts of all of them in bed together, trading places, and doing all the things that two couples are capable of. She even briefly thought of some private time between her and Sam. She would love to seduce Sam. To show and teach her of the soft and gentle things that one woman could do to another. She realized now that she had completely misread Bob and Sam. There were some serious problems in that marriage, and she and Tom had caused them. Bob hadn't accepted anything at all. He was just being passive and letting Sam have fun. Now that Tom was no longer openly flirting with Sam; that meant the threat to their marriage had been removed. At this point Bob was willing to set back and enjoy the scenery. If Sam wanted to make a fool of herself; then so be it. He would take her home when she was done, and they would probably discuss her actions tomorrow, when cooler heads could prevail. All of this had taken but a few moments to flash through her mind. The information had been there all along. She had just horribly misinterpreted it. And now, here she sat, still afraid, but not terrified like a minute ago. She had been looking directly into Bob's eyes when she handed him Sam's panties. She had expected him to accept and surrender to the moment, but the smooth handsome features had hardened. Those friendly soft blue eyes had turned to hard, deathly blue ice. It had scared, no, not just scared; at that moment she had been in fear for her life. It had only lasted for a couple of seconds but she would never for the rest of her life, forget that look, or her reaction to it. "I think Tom is upstairs with Sam." ***** I sat down on the couch beside Nancy and tried to think. The only thoughts that would come were thoughts that I couldn't except. Okay, Bobby boy, you've had a few drinks. Take your time and think it through. The thing was, though, that nothing made sense. I looked down and confirmed it. Yep, these belong to Sam. They are her panties all right. From half way down the front to half way up the back they were stiff with dried cum. She must have worn them for quite a while after fucking. I wonder if she put them back on after fucking or if she just pulled the crotch to the side and went at it without taking them off. Either way, that was irrelevant at this point in time. Why? That's the question that needs answering now. Try as I might, I just couldn't come up with the answer. Hell, I couldn't come up with any answer, much less "the" answer. I don't know how long I sat there. Probably not more than five to ten minutes. I looked over at Nancy. She placed her left hand on my shoulder, her right hand on my thigh, and said in a very soft voice: "Bob, consider this for a minute. It's obvious Tom and Sam have been together, so doesn't it make sense for us to be together. You know, to sort of even things up. I know I would like to be with you, and there have been times when I felt that you would like to be with me. Bobby, I'm here for you. Make love to me. Once we make love, everyone will be even then. Come on, Bobby, right now, we need each other. It'll make us both feel better about what's happened." As I was talking to him, I knew that I had failed. I could see it in his eyes. I knew he could hear what I was saying, but it wasn't registering with him. I just as well have been speaking gibberish. He had that far-off look that said he was in another place, and at this moment, I didn't even exist. Suddenly, I was afraid again. Not of Bob, but of Tom. For the second time since we've been married, I have failed my husband. I have tried very hard to forget the first time but the memories all came flooding back, and I know I am in deep trouble. Tom will be very unhappy with me. ***** I knew Nancy was talking to me, but I'm not sure what she was saying. Try as I might, I could not think. Coherent thoughts would not form. It was time for me to do something. I had to confront Sam, which was something I had never done before. Maybe she could make me understand what this is all about. Nancy quit talking, and the look of fear came into her eyes. Oh damn! She's still afraid that I'm going to hurt her. Her hand was resting on my thigh, so I gently took it and said: "Nancy, I'm sorry I frightened you. I'm sorry I pushed you. I shouldn't have done that. I'm going up stairs now. I am back under control. I'm not going to hurt anyone, I promise. I have to see this for myself, Nancy. I have to hear Sam say this is what she wants. If it is, I will quietly leave." I turned and headed for the stairs. By the time I got to the top of the stairs and into the kitchen, I knew I had lied to Nancy. I was starting to lose it again. I left the kitchen, went through the dining room, and paused at the foot of the stairs that went up to the bedrooms. I took a couple of deep breaths in an attempt to maintain control, and then started climbing. When I got to the top, I could see there was only one door that was closed. That had to be it. Sam and Tom would be behind that door. I walked right up to it, and then stood there. I was frightened now. I was afraid of what I would find behind that door and even more afraid of what I might do about it. I didn't want to do this. I had to do this. I took hold of the doorknob, and started to turn it. I heard it. It was faint but quite clear: "Oh shiiit! Kaa-thuunk!" I finished turning the knob, gave the door a shove, and ... ***** Saturday, exactly 9:15 PM Alley Oop was finally over and I have to pee. Boy, do I have to pee. First the wine, and now those green things that Tom has been mixing have had their undesired effect. "I'm going to the little girl's room." I didn't say it to anyone in particular; I just said it. I walked right by good old husband Bob. I couldn't resist the temptation. I give him the look, my special look. The look that said I was still upset with him. I have been giving him that look for two weeks now, though I didn't mean it this time. He looked too serene sitting there. I just had to burst his bubble one more time. It was obvious he wasn't feeling any pain. He has been sitting there for over an hour now, letting Nancy win game after game of pool. At least he wasn't over there sniffing around and trying to jump her bones. That was something in his favor. I have been teasing and tantalizing the hell out of Tom. He deserves it. He's been trying to get in my panties from the first time we met. That was the first part of my plan tonight, to show Tom exactly what he would never get to enjoy. Maybe if I turn him on, and then leave him cold, he'll give up on me, and go chase his own wife. The second part of my plan was to make Bob jealous. Maybe if he sees me openly flirting with Tom, he'll forget about that damn redhead, and pay more attention to me. It's time to get our lives back on track and that's going to happen as soon as I get him home. As soon as I am done in the bathroom I'm going to drag him home and fuck his brains out. Damn! I'm horny tonight. Tonight is for us. Tonight we are going to try to kill each other with raw, passionate sex. Tomorrow, I'll sit him down, look right into his eyes, and ask him point blank about that damn red head. It's possible he can lie to me, but those baby blue eyes of his can't lie. They always reflect the truth. That was feeling good. I had found a wash cloth, soaked it with warm water, and washed my face, arms, the exposed portions of my breast, and was now working between my legs. Wow! That wasn't all sweat. Most of that was love juice. And just look at my thong! It's soaked! All physical proof of just how horny I am. There, all done now. Time to go get Bob, and head for home. I opened the door and there stood Tom. "Hey, Sam, every thing come out okay?" he chuckled. "Oh, don't be silly. I'm going to go collect Bob, and we will be heading home in a little bit. Thank you so much for an enjoyable evening. You absolutely out-did yourself with the steaks and potatoes. They were delicious. And that salad of Nancy's was perfect." "You, my lady, are quite welcome. I'm headed upstairs for a bit. Come on up. I've got something to show you." "Okay. Lead the way." ***** Tom stepped around her and headed for the stairs. Finally, all his hard work was going to pay off. He had been after this hot little piece of tail ever since he first saw her about a year ago. He had got his first real break about five weeks ago, and then had pushed it to the limit at boy's/girl's night out two weeks ago. Oh, he still had a couple of aces up his sleeve, and he would play them if necessary, but right now he had that cute little bitch willingly following him to his bedroom. He was sure Nancy had things fully in control in the game room so he wasn't worried about time. She had an ace to play too, if needed. She would probably get the shit fucked out of her tonight, and then they would compare notes tomorrow. ***** It didn't make any difference to Sam. She could leave now, or fifteen minutes from now. The night was still young. She would go look at whatever it was Tom wanted to show her, and then she could take her man home. ***** As Tom opened the bedroom door, he was thinking blowjob. That would be the perfect way to start things. He would love it, and she would probably enjoy giving it. Then he would drive her wild with his tongue, and when the time came, they would finish with her riding his seven inches of cock to the point of passing out. Wow! What a way to end the evening! "Here we are. 'Step into my parlor,' said the spider to the fly." "Thanks, Tom." ***** She went in and started doing what all women do when in strange territory. She didn't notice that Tom quietly closed the door behind them. She couldn't believe what she was seeing, and feeling. The pearl white carpet felt like it was at least two inches thick. There was a large picture window with light, white lacey curtains, and heavy brocade drapes, that could be closed for privacy. Two, not one, but two walk-in closets. A king size bed, and black satin sheets. And this bathroom, oh my, would you just look at this bathroom! Lavender stool and sink, giant bath tub with at least 20 water jets in it, a shower big enough for two people, and it had three shower heads, plus a hand held shower nozzle. A large make-up table with its own sink, and a large mirror flanked by wing mirrors on hinges on each side. She could learn to like this real easy. Tom came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist. He lightly kissed her on the side of her neck, and whispered: "You like?" "It's the most beautiful bedroom I have ever been in. It's absolutely gorgeous. Is this what you wanted to show me, Tom?" He gently turned her around in his arms, looked down into her eyes, and softly said: "Yes." And he gently touched his lips to hers. Oh my! She was being kissed by Tom, while standing in the middle of this beautiful bed room, her toes were tingling, and at this moment in time, it felt so right. She returned his kiss, such a gentle kiss. She felt the tip of his tongue on her lips, demanding permission to enter, and... and ... she had to breathe! Come on body, breathe! Oh, damn! She was finally able to break the kiss and ease her body back a few inches. Now she could breathe. Breathe in; breathe out; breathe in; breathe out. Everything finally started to work again, including her brain. It suddenly went into high gear. What the hell was she doing? This can't happen! But it did happen. It has to stop! Suspicion Times Two "Tom?" He tried to initiate the kiss again. She turned her head to the side, and said: "Tom, I can't do this!" "Why not, Sam? It seems so right." "I know it does, Tom, but it just can't happen. I'm married. I know my husband wouldn't like it. And what would Nancy say about it?" "Look, Sam, Nancy knows I want you, and is okay with it. As a matter of fact, when I told her that you and I might get together tonight, she encouraged me, and wished me luck. As far as Bob is concerned, he could very well be taking care of Nancy right now." "You mean Nancy willingly goes along with this? She...She... Wait just one minute here. What's this about Bob taking care of Nancy?" "Well, since I'm up here with you, that means she's down in the game room with Bob. She wants to get laid tonight, too. Sam, you don't understand. Nancy and I occasionally find other partners to be with. We have found that variety adds spice to our sex life. It keeps things from going stale." "No, Tom, that can't happen with Bob and me. I know what Bob is capable of doing and what he is not capable of doing. I assure you that nothing improper is happening in the game room. Now I need to leave. Thanks for a nice evening." I turned and started to walk away when Tom said: "Wait one more minute, Sam. Please. I really do have something else to show you." So I turned and walked back to the center of the room. Tom went over to a dresser, opened the top drawer, and pulled out a photo. He walked back to me and handed me the photo. He didn't say a word, but just stood there, looking at me. I looked, and I couldn't believe what I was seeing. It had been taken inside of what was probably a titty bar. There was Bob. Sitting in a chair right in the middle of the picture. And sitting astride his lap, wearing only a small G-string, was a blonde that had the biggest tits I have ever seen. Buried between those twin mountains of flesh was Bob's head. Even though I couldn't see his face, I knew it was him. I looked up at Tom, and demanded: "When in the hell did this happen?" "Two weeks ago. Boy's night out." "Okay, fine. Someone has some explaining to do tonight. I'll get to the bottom of this when we get home. Now, if you don't mind." "Sam, please. Look, two couples meet. They get to know and like one another over a period of time. So they trade partners for a night. They know there is no danger of disease. There is no sneaking around. No worries of being caught. Each knows and approves of what the other is doing. Just good clean sex with a different partner. Since Nancy and I started doing it, our bedroom life has gotten ten times better. Give us a chance girl. If you decide you don't like it, then it will never happen again. We will even remain friends. Come on, what do you say?" "If that's all, Tom, it's time for me to go." "No. That isn't all, Sam. I wasn't going to do this, but it may just convince you." He went back over to the same drawer he got the picture out of and pulled out what looked like a pair of red silk boxers. Tom handed the boxers to me, and said: "I found these under our bed last week. Nancy thinks Bob is a wonderful lover." Suddenly my heart was in my throat. I felt faint. The room started to spin. I forgot how to breathe for the second time tonight. Those were Bob's. No question about it. "Sam's Ass" printed across the back and "Sam's Cock" printed across the front. What added insult to injury were the cum stains on the front. I let out a faint sob, and then the tears started. They just kept coming. I would almost regain control and then they would come harder than ever. Tom took me in his arms and held me. I felt so safe there. After the third attempt I finally started to gain control. That's when I realized how big of a jerk Tom was. His left arm was tight around my lower back. He had his right leg between my legs, and my mound was pressed up tight against him. The top of my dress was down to my elbows and he was rolling my left nipple between his thumb and index finger. I wasn't dizzy anymore. My knees were no longer weak. My heart had gone back to where it belonged, and I had started to breathe again. I snapped! He should have been looking at my eyes instead of at my tits. It might have saved him some pain. I put my hands on his hips, and pushed him back about a foot. Then, before he could react, my right knee came up with all of the force I could muster. I'm sure there was a full charge of adrenaline propelling my knee, because when it connected with his crotch, his feet went a couple of inches off the floor. His hands went immediately to his crotch. He was standing with his knees slightly bent, leaning a bit forward at the waist, and his chin was pointed at the ceiling. His mouth was wide open, forming a perfect "O", but no sound was coming out. Then it happened, he tilted to his right and started to fall: "Oh, shiiit! Kaa-thuunk!" Then I heard the door behind me slam against the wall. I spun around, and there was Bob and Nancy. Nancy was first to act: "Oh, honey! What's wrong?" She zipped past Bob and me, fell to her knees, and tried to hold Tom's head in her lap. "My poor baby! Are you alright?" All Tom was capable of was a few faint moans. I looked at Nancy, and with as much sarcasm in my voice as I could possibly inject, said: "I'm sure he will recover, but I really don't give a damn if he does or not." Then I handed Bob the picture and asked: "Would you care to explain this?" Speaking of pictures, I must have been a picture standing there with the top of my dress below my boobs, and the shoulders of my dress down to my elbows. I didn't even turn away; I just repaired the damage and then looked at Bob, and waited on his explanation. "Of course I can explain this. At the last boy's night out, the game got rained out in the bottom of the third inning. As we were leaving, Mike wanted to check out that new titty bar that went in across the street, and talked Tom and me into going with him. We weren't in there ten minutes when that bimbo plopped down on my lap, and stuck her tits in my face. It only took me a few seconds to push her off and tell her to go bother someone else. I left right after that and came home. However you didn't get home till after midnight. Where did you spend girl's night out? It wasn't downstairs on the game room couch with Tom, was it?" "Of course not! Why would you think that?" "Nancy found your panties down there. Here, see for yourself. Go on; take them." "They ain't mine!" "The hell they ain't! And you've been fucking Tom, haven't you?" "The hell they are! And I damn sure haven't been fucking Tom!" "Yea, right!" "But I damn sure know who these shorts belong to! Here! You can have them back now. Tom found them under his bed last week. Nancy told him you were a wonderful lover. Well, lover, don't you want them back?" "I can be just as stubborn as you. They ain't mine!" "The hell they ain't! And you've been fucking Nancy, haven't you!" "The hell they are! And no; I haven't been fucking Nancy!" "Yea, right!" ***** There we stood. Nose to nose. Neither one of us was even close to backing down. That wasn't about to happen. Certainly not here, not under these conditions. We stood there for what seemed like hours, but could have only been for a few seconds. I looked past her at Tom and Nancy on the floor. Nancy was wearing her "I'm scared to death face" and cradling Tom's head in her lap. Tom was curled up in a ball, with both hands still buried in his crotch. He was now adding a few whimpers to his moans, but other than that, nothing else had changed. Not true, something was changing now. His shorts were getting wet. Damn, he was in so much pain that he had lost control of his bladder. His shorts were completely soaked now, and there was a stain starting to spread on the carpet. ***** I turned to see what Bob was looking at. Nancy was sitting on the floor, trying to hold Tom's head in her lap. God, she looked like death warmed over. Tom was all curled into a ball and; oh shit; he was pissing his pants! Good, the son of a bitch deserved it. I looked back at Bob, and said: "We will finish this at home. Let's go. Now! Damn it!" And we walked out, me carrying that stupid picture and Bob's shorts, and Bob carrying my panties. At least we were leaving with more than we came with. Saturday, in the car, 9:45 PM ***** We only had to go four blocks to get home. Neither one of us said a single word. She just sat there and stared straight ahead. Chin up, chest out, hands clasp in her lap, and she was shivering. I've never seen her so mad. As a matter of fact, I've never seen her even the least bit upset, except for the past couple of weeks. Up until then we have never been the least bit out of sorts with one another. Not so much as a cross word had passed between us since we first met, two years before we were married. The evidence of her infidelity lay there on the seat between us. Her cum soaked panties were enough to fully convict her, and there was no way I was going to let her get by with fucking around on me. The picture of me meant nothing. If I had to, I would drag her ass down to that bar, and let her talk to that blonde bimbo. That would clear that up. As far as my shorts were concerned, I have no idea how they ended up at Tom and Nancy's. I haven't even worn them since the night of our birthday. The only possible explanation is that she and Tom set that up to make me feel guilty, and not say anything about her fucking him. Well, I'm not going to let her get by with this shit. She's got some explaining to do when we get home. Saturday, in the car, 9:45 PM ***** We've only got to go four blocks to get home, and the way he's driving, it's going to take us four hours to get there. I don't care if there isn't any traffic, he could at least drive on the right side of the fucking road, instead of right down the fucking middle. Damn it girl! His driving and the road aren't the problem. The problem is right here on the seat between us. The picture is easy enough to check out. I'll go down to that damn bar and choke the truth out of that slut if I have to. He's not going to weasel out of this. Those shorts speak for themselves. They are all the proof I need, and he is going to pay big time for this. How in the hell did my panties get over there? I haven't worn them since...since... since our birthday over two weeks ago. Wait a minute here girl, think about this, there can only be one way they got over there. He and Nancy set this up in order to cover their asses. That's got to be it. Saturday, 9:50 PM ***** I pulled into the drive, pushed the button on the door opener clipped to the visor, and sat there patiently waiting on the door to go up. SLAM! That sure shook hell out of the car. There goes Sam. Stomping up the drive, carrying the picture and my shorts. Oops, guess she's got her panties too. There goes my evidence. I'll never see any of that again. Except maybe in divorce court, and then it will only be that picture and my shorts. You can bet your bottom dollar those panties will disappear. The door topped out and I pulled into the garage, hit the button again to close it, shut the car off, and got out. I gently closed the car door and then I hauled off and kicked it as hard as I could. OUCH! Oh shit, that hurt! I hopped over to the bench, sat down, and started rubbing my foot. Damn, feels like I broke it. Son! Of! A! Bitch! That hurts! Oh shit! Look what you just did to the car door, you idiot. Your car door, Bobby boy. Look at the size of that dent, would you. Idiot! Crap, why in the hell didn't I kick the door on her car? Damn, my foot hurts. I sat there rubbing my foot and tried to think. What led up to this? Why would she decide to fuck Tom? I know for a fact that he is definitely not her type, so it wouldn't be because she loved him. Since love isn't involved, then it must be just for the sex. But there hasn't been anything wrong with out sex life that I know of. I certainly don't have any complaints. As far as I knew, it has been perfect. Except for her two pregnancies, and her monthly cycles, we have never went more than 2 days without making love. Sometimes it was soft, slow, and sensuous, and sometimes it was hard, fast, and furious, and always very satisfying. Quickies were something else entirely. They never happened in the bedroom. Bathroom, den, living room, kitchen, garage, and even a few times in the boat, when we were fishing. So what's the attraction to Tom? There is only one thing left that could account for it, and that is punishment. Did she do it to punish me? If so; why? I haven't given her any reason to go fuck anyone else, much less Tom. To hell with it, I just as well go in. I got up and limped into the kitchen, and sat down at the table. Man that hurts. Time to rub my foot again. Gee, Bobby boy, why don't you go back to the garage and kick the other door with the other foot? At least then everything will match. Two dented doors and two dented feet. Ha ... ha ... ha ... Get serious, you idiot. And then I saw it. Sitting right there on the counter with three other bottles. Half a bottle of gin, an almost empty bottle of brandy, and an almost full bottle of scotch. What really had my interest though, was an unopened bottle of Crown. I wonder how that would taste without 7up? One way to find out. I got up and hobbled over to the counter, grabbed the Crown, twisted the lid off, breaking the seal, and took a good healthy drink. Wow, that burned all the way down. Then my stomach got warm. I found out what I wanted to know. Like fire going down, and warm in the stomach. I took another drink and waited. Yep, same results. Bobby boy, you just as well be comfortable. So I hobbled into the living room and sat down on the sofa. That shoe had to go. I slowly removed it, and the sock, and gently rubbed my foot. It was starting to swell and change color. I gulped another drink and that one didn't burn one little bit going down. Oh, Sam, what's happened to us? I started to cry. Take a drink and cry. Take another drink and cry some more. The last thing I remember is leaning over sideways and laying my head on one of the many throw pillows we have scattered around the living room. Saturday, 9:50 PM ***** When Bob pulled into the drive, I grabbed all the stuff in the seat, got out, slammed the door as hard as I could, ducked under the garage door as it was on its way up, and stormed into the house. To hell with that son of a bitch! I didn't want to talk to anyone right now, especially Bob. I went to the bedroom, slammed that door too, and fell on the bed. All I wanted to do right now was cry. All I was capable of doing right now was cry. The last thing I want to do is look at his cheating, conniving, guilty; ugly face. And cry I did. The tears just wouldn't stop coming. I finally got up and went into the bathroom. I took care of business, snatched a hand full of tissue, and went back into the bedroom. There on the bed were shorts, panties, and picture. Right where I had threw them when I first came in. I started crying again. Oh, Bobby, how could you? Sob. I've always been faithful. Sob. Sob. What have I done that was so horrible that you had to sleep with Nancy? Sob. Why did you sneak out and have diner with another women? If you would have just asked me, I would have had diner with you. I love you so much. Sob. I have always loved you, and only you. I was just about to get myself under control when I looked at the shorts and panties. The crying started again. Finally, I got myself under control. I got off the bed, picked up the picture, shorts, and panties, carried them into the bathroom, and threw them into the trash. I never wanted to see that garbage again. I went back to the bed, lay down on my side, curled up and stared at Bob's side of the bed. The now empty side. The cold, empty side. I have no idea how long I lay there, softly crying. Oh, Bobby, what's happened to us? Sunday, 9:00am. (Bob & Sam) Heat. The heat was bringing her to life. That trip from slumber to consciousness. It may be slow, fast, pleasant, or painful. This time, it was two-fold, the burning heat, and a splitting headache. Oh damn, my head hurts. My eyelids were stuck closed by dried tears. I finally got them pried open, and the source of the heat was immediately apparent. The morning sun was centered in the bedroom window and shining directly on my face. That's easy enough to take care of. I rolled over. Mistake. Big mistake. I am definitely going to die by headache. The aspirins are in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. It hurts to move. I have a choice. I usually like to have choices. I can lay here and suffer the pain forever or I can get up and struggle in to the bathroom to the aspirins and eventually the pain will go away. I chose the second option. After taking two of those little pain relievers, I went back to the bed and lay down on my back, away from the direct path of the sun. I placed my right forearm over my eyes, and suffered as memories of last night slowly returned. We have to talk. We can't continue living like we have been for the past two weeks. I haven't let him make love to me; I haven't even said a kind word to him. But, damn it, he's the one out screwing around, not me. How am I supposed to feel? I've got some serious questions, and they have to be answered. I had to laugh at that thought. After what he saw in Tom's bedroom last night, I bet he's got a ton of questions. But I didn't do any thing. Couldn't he realize that? Oh, damn, I just as well get up and face the day. The trip to the bathroom was a lot less painful this time. The headache was almost gone. When I got in the bathroom, I glanced at the mirror. Oh! My God! I'm a total mess! Just look at my face, and my hair, and this dress. I'm not a mess; I'm a disaster! I struggled out of my dress, threw it in the dirty clothes hamper, and my bra and thong followed the dress. Whoever thought of putting zippers in the back must have wanted to torture women. I stepped into the shower and turned the water on. Hot water, you fool, turn the hot water on. That was cold! Then I had to smile. I remembered telling Bob to take a cold shower yesterday. I wonder if he did? The shower was long and luxurious, but all good things must eventually come to an end. Drying myself off, I searched for something comfortable to wear. This is going to be a cotton day. Regular cotton briefs and bra. Sweat pants and a baggy sweatshirt. Bob didn't like cotton, he didn't think it was sexy enough, and to be right honest, I agree with him. I actually do prefer to wear silk and satin. But right now, cotton made me feel comfortable and secure. When I got down stairs, I went into the living room. There was Bob, sprawled on the sofa. It didn't look like he was in good shape either. One bare foot, and ...? What happened to his foot? It's swollen and slightly bruised. I wonder how he managed to do that? Next stop, kitchen and coffee. Finally, the coffee was done, and I was able to sit at the kitchen table and think. I looked up, and there stood Bob in the doorway. He looked pitiful. Clothes all wrinkled, hair a mess, eyes droopy and red, and one foot bare. "What happened to your foot?" "I kicked the damn car." He groaned, and limped to the table and sat down. I couldn't help it; I laughed. I threw back my head and let it rip. It took over a minute to get myself under control. And then I said it. It was the icing on the cake. "Aw, did wittle bhabby fro a temper tantrum and hut his wittle footy? Would you wike mummy to come over there and kiss it and make it all better?" I let it rip again. I found this to be extremely funny. Evidently, I was the only one that did. He just sat there and glared at me. I got myself under control, and asked: