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The Athlete

By: ukresearcher



Had I seen the advert asking for cuckolds to share their misfortune a year ago I would have thought it inconceivable that I might be telling this to you now. I thought that then I had a good strong marriage. Some might say that it is still a good marriage, some might even claim that it has been enhanced but I cannot write off twenty-five years of fidelity without regret. Mea culpa. What makes it harder to bear is the knowledge that it was my fault. There is a phrase, 'the author of his own misfortunes' which most certainly can be applied to me.

I have been married for almost twenty-six years to Beth who became my wife shortly after her twentieth birthday. Then she was size ten then but now she has expanded to a comfortable fourteen. I am happy with this - 'plenty to get hold of' I tell her and I still do like getting hold of her. Her appearance is very much how a Mum should look which is appropriate because we are the parents of two grown up daughters. Abigail the eldest will soon be twenty-six, (which should tell you something), and her sister Karen is two years younger. Both married and left home although Abigail did come back for a year.

We own a large Victorian house and have never lived anywhere else. We bought it in a very dilapidated condition and such houses were out of favour at the time but it is rather different these days. The mortgage is paid which means that we are sitting on quite a lump of money.

About three years ago, sensing that Abigail's marriage was in trouble, I had the attics, (old servants quarters), converted into a self-contained flat with big dormer windows. I wanted to provide a bolt hole for my daughter, reasoning that while she might hesitate to return as a member of the family, the flat would allow her to maintain independence. 

Abigail moved in the week after it was finished having been hanging on for such an opportunity to leave her husband. Just under a year later she left again to move in with some chap who it seems had been on the scene for quite a while. Belatedly I realised that parental love had made me see her marital situation as more one-sided than it really was. That same year I was made redundant. I had been at that firm forever and quickly found that no-one wanted to employ a fifty-two year old man with obsolete specialist skills. Beth had not worked for years apart from unpaid charity work so we were both in the same boat.

Unemployment money was very little but fortunately we had a resource that could be capitalised on - namely the flat. We advertised and as we lived very near to a centre for sporting excellence, it was no surprise when the first applicant to ring the bell was an athlete. He assured us that he did very well at his sport and was able to comfortably afford our rather high rent. The fact that he was black did not bother us but apparently he had been rejected for several other places he had viewed - but always for spurious reasons other than colour. The news that he was a reserve for the Olympic team was a bonus because we were both avid watchers of athletics on television. It turned out that his girlfriend was even better, being considered a real prospect for a medal. Both of them were sprinters.

My wife and I took to Paul immediately because he was a really nice guy. Softly spoken, modest with a keen sense of humour and highly intelligent, he was the kind of young man that anyone would be proud to have as a son. He was not an extrovert but neither could he be described as shy. However I felt that it was his character as well as possible requirements of his sport which kept him in his flat for long periods of time when he was not actually out training. I do know that he gratefully accepted our invitation to either eat with us or spend an evening talking from time to time. Once as reciprocal hospitality, he put on a meal for us in his flat which mainly comprised the more exotic foodstuffs that he preferred. From then we included such dishes whenever he joined us and soon developed a taste for it ourselves. 

Paul's girlfriend Serena was an exceptionally attractive girl. Technically black, she had a much paler skin than Paul and wore her head in multicoloured braids, creating the effect with bright beads woven along the strands. Her face had a serene beauty and I thought had some resemblance a disco singer of the eighties call Ami something or other. With what foresight had Serena's parents chosen her name? Her body had that full bursting ripeness without any superfluous flesh that seems peculiar to coloured female sprinters. 

If you are becoming jealous of Paul having Serena, I must point out that he wasn't getting any - at least not very much. Serena stayed overnight in the flat with him on only one night per week, occasionally two but more often, not at all. I once said to him tactfully, "You don't see much of your girlfriend in the late evening."

"It's her damn trainers fault," he told me ruefully. "He believes in the philosophy that an athlete should not waste energy on extraneous physical activity."

"I always find that a nice sex session always puts extra spring in my step," I said grinning.

He grinned back. "So do I but sometimes I wonder. I get bloody frustrated occasionally and it is then that I always seem to do my best times."

When I was his age I was climbing all over Beth at every opportunity so I wondered how Paul stood it - especially with such a delectable package as Serena for a girlfriend.

Our house had a large secluded garden and since my redundancy I had been able to devote a lot of time to getting it nice. We were having a particularly good summer with a great number of warm sunny days. My wife and I took these opportunities to sit in the garden and Paul tended to join us - for the pleasure of feeling the sun on his skin rather than any need to get a tan. We saw more of Serena during those afternoons because she too had a liking for lying in the sun and invariably turned up when the weather was nice. When I say 'saw more of her', I mean that I saw virtually everything that there was to see because she wore the briefest of brief bikinis. After the first few visits, realising that the garden was not overlooked from any direction, she started to sunbathe topless. The bottom part of the swim suit which she did retain was hardly worth the bother - a small triangle of material nominally covering the pubic area held in place by thongs no wider than a shoe lace. She made no attempt to lie decorously and many times I was able to see how the string between her legs had worked its way into her slit.

I think that any man would get hot and bothered in my situation. I know that the sweat poured off me - and that had nothing to do with the heat of the day. Afternoon after afternoon I had to sit with my book held firmly on my lap lest everyone should see how much sight of the near naked girl affected me. Beth of course did notice. "You are nothing but a dirty old man," she said scathingly one evening. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself drooling over Serena the way you do."

"I don't know what you are talking about," I blustered. "I just sit and read my book whether she is in the garden or not."

"Don't think I don't know why you hold you book on your lap instead up in front of your eyes as you usually do, "Beth retorted. "I know that you can't read a damn word at that distance.

I was caught out and found guilty so it was time to cop a plea. "Is it any wonder," I said defensively, "any red blooded man would react seeing her almost naked most of the time."

"But not men old enough to be her father."

What about you looking at him - I've seen you do it and you could be his mother?" I counter-attacked. This was tenuous ground but I had observed her studying him reflectively from time to time. The trouble was that Paul wore loose fitting shorts, not the long voluminous lager-lout type but baggy enough to conceal what they are meant to conceal. Maybe a man's well-muscled chest or biceps turns women on - I never did know what women find attractive in men. 

"I am not denying that I look at him from time to time because he is a very fit young man," my wife conceded. "I most certainly do not pant after him like a sex crazed teenager."

This had all the makings for one of our very rare rows so I quickly back peddled and changed the subject as soon as I could. From then on I was more careful, only lusting when Beth was not around or from a vantage in the greenhouse while pretending to re-pot plants.

I possibly gave a wrong impression of Beth in describing her only by dress size. She is well covered but her body is still firm. In contrast to me she has a young looking face, retaining much of the beauty from when we met if slightly faded now and easily able to pass for thirty nine or even younger. In fact it was only in direct comparison with the nubile girl that I was ever aware of her years. On the subject of age, I will tell an anecdote against myself. Recently I had to go to the chemist for some medicine after visiting the doctor. Admittedly I was ill at the time but the assistant pushed the money back to me saying, "People over sixty don't have to pay now but you need to fill in the declaration on the back of the prescription." It was kindly meant but I returned home thoroughly demoralised and swearing never to go in that shop again.

Over the years, to satisfy a social conscience, I have been involved with a fund raising group with its main activities concentrated round the Xmas period. There are however, committee meetings every month throughout the year. I had set out for one reluctantly leaving Serena, Paul and my wife sunning themselves in the garden. Returning just after 8 30, as I was preparing to turn into my road I saw an obviously very expensive two seater sports convertible parked on the corner with the hood down. It was a make of car that I had not seen before so, instead of turning I pulled in to the side of the road. Only after studying the lines of the vehicle for two or three minutes did I turn my attention to the driver. He looked familiar and I realised that he bore a marked resemblance to a famous javelin thrower who had held the world record for a short time. I had just decided that this was in fact the javelin thrower when Serena came literally skipping down the road. She got into the car, gave the driver a kiss and they roared off. Something about the intimacy with which she had greeted him suggested that he was giving her more than just a friendly lift.

In the middle of the following week, I was still debating whether to tell Paul what I had seen, when the accident happened. The first we knew was when the police car pulled up outside the house. Paul had been knocked down on a zebra crossing by a hit and run driver, and rushed to hospital in a serious condition. The car involved was later found burnt out, it had been stolen and for a time it was thought this had been a deliberate racial attack rather than just a joy rider.

For a short time he was on life support and remained in critical condition for over a week - it was a week after that before he was finally no longer in need of intensive care. His left leg was shattered, (requiring extensive pinning), his right arm was partially paralysed and the surgeons had needed to operate on internal injuries. For a time it was possible that he might lose his leg but although that danger passed it remained very unlikely that he would ever run again. The great irony was that the day before the accident Paul had come to us highly elated with news that he had been promoted to definite member of the 4 X 100 relay squad. Some improved times had made him a better bet than the specialist 200 metre specialist that he replaced.

Paul's parents lived over 200 miles away and initially booked into a hotel but we insisted that we would accommodate them for as long as required. They had our guest bedroom and provided a meal when they returned from the hospital but for the rest of the time they had the privacy of Paul's flat and able to cater for themselves. During that first fortnight we only visited Paul in hospital once and it was distressing to see tubes apparently coming for almost every part of his body. His parents were constantly by his bedside and Serena broke training to make a dutiful number of visits. A large number of fellow athletes also crowded into his hospital room when he was not in a position to appreciate their presence. The attendance of my wife and I was not needed at that time so we contented ourselves with providing back-up.

When it was certain that Paul would survive but that recuperation was certain to be a long drawn out process, his parents had of necessity to return to their home. During his first two weeks in a normal ward there were still plenty of visitors for him from the sports club but then the novelty wore off. Due to a ham string injury incurred by the main high jump prospect, Serena was now going for that event at the Olympics in addition to the sprint. As that great sports festival was growing imminent and with extra training for her new event, it may be mean to criticise Serena for deciding that hospital visiting rated only a low priority. The net result was that for the further five weeks before he was released, it was Beth and myself who bore the burden of raising Paul's morale every day. 

In the days before his release we spent many hours in the flat taking the liberty of rearranging things. Trailing wires and clutter that could conceivably snag on crutches were pushed out of the way and items of furniture were moved to allow space of passage between. We also made considered enhancements like placing a stool in the bathroom, useful for either levering himself off the WC or perching on in front of the wash basin. When the ambulance men carried Paul up to his flat, we felt relief that the chore of hospital visiting was over but well aware that a period of even greater responsibility lay ahead.

That first night we did not see Paul apart from waving as he was carried past. Serena had come with him from the hospital with him and a couple of other athletes were waiting outside the house. The two males left about 11 p.m. and I assumed that Serena would be staying with Paul overnight but half an hour later I heard the front door close. Had I not been listening specifically, I may not have heard the powerful engine driving away minutes after she had left the house.

We did not go up to see Paul figuring that he would be asleep but my wife and I spent a restless night, both subconsciously listening for a cry of distress. Just before ten o'clock the next morning we went up together and crowded into his bedroom. Paul had just woken having heard our footsteps on the stairs. Dozey from sleep, he sounded to me rather less well than he had in hospital and he confessed that he felt more tender than he had expected.

Although I had spent many hours at his hospital bedside, I suddenly felt claustrophobic in that bedroom and stepped back out through the door then after a moment's hesitation, walked along the corridor to the kitchen. It was a conscious thought in my mind as I walked away that this was the first time that I had left my wife alone in a bedroom with another man - a man moreover who was already lying almost naked in bed. The fact that Paul was almost incapable of independent movement did not detract from my feeling of daring. 

I must confess that there was an ulterior motive behind my quick departure. While not being at all homophobic I have no desire at all to touch another male, (apart from a firm handshake). Those nationalities who embrace and even kiss other men as part of social intercourse make me cringe. I knew that Paul would need assistance to get out of bed and preferred that Beth did it, not caring whether she got any pleasure from touching his young flesh. The visitors the previous night had left a load of dirty mugs and plates which had held either a Chinese or Indian take-away. While washing up, I could hear voices from the bedroom but could not distinguish individual words. As mentioned, I had deliberately left them alone but now I was filled with jealousy, straining my ears to hear what they were saying that I was not party to.

When Beth came through just as I had finished drying the plates her blouse gaped open - the top button was still fastened but the two below had come undone. "Paul has lovely soft skin, it feels almost velvety," she told me but, still suffering from the emotion described, rather than respond to her remark, I said shortly, "There was no need to show him your tits."

Shocked more by my tone than the actual words Beth stopped, stared at me for a moment and then said, with annoyance, "I had to really struggle to get him sitting up - that must have burst them open. I could have done with your help. I don't know why you disappeared like that anyway."

"Sorry - I didn't realise that you would need me," I apologised.

Beth laughed and making peace asked, "You don't honestly think that Paul is interested in seeing what I've got?"

"I don't know," I told her honestly - but then I have the ability to fancy a vast age range in females.

"When you were his age, did you fancy your mother's women friends?"

The question brought a vision of my mother's knitting circle - a collection of blowsy women who had a propensity for opening their legs to display acres of bloomer. It reminded me of how at the time, girls that I fancied, fastidiously managed not to give even the slightest glimpse of their underwear. "You're right - I'm just being stupid," I said.

"I came to tell you that I have got his dressings done. He's on the toilet at the moment and I'm going back in a minute to wash his back - Paul says that he gets very sweaty with not being able to lie on his side."

In hospital the time had come when he wanted to show us his wounds. His stomach scar had been on show for a while but now he lifted the covers to show us his repaired leg. I have no liking for viewing lacerated flesh but I peered under anyway to see what else I could see. All my life I had heard tales of black men's superiority in reproductive equipment and I was curious to know if there was any truth in the myth. I still did not know because he was wearing boxer shorts. "Is he still wearing those shorts?" I asked casually.

Beth shook her head. "Paul hated those shorts in hospital - he only had to wear them because women patients from the next bay could walk past near to his bed. He says that he always prefers to sleep naked."

The green-eyed monster got me again. "Then you've seen his penis?"

"I didn't have much option."

"Is it...Is it big?"

"Yes," she said without elaboration.

"How big?"

"Tom, I don't know," she said with a look of exasperation on her face. "I caught the merest glimpse and then I looked away."

"Then he got dressed?" I said.

"No - I had to dress him. You know he has some movement back in his arm and can flex his fingers but he still has very little strength in his hand and almost no co-ordination. I had to do nearly everything for him." 

"Including putting on his underpants?"

"Yes - he managed to balance on his crutches while I pulled them up for him."

"Then," I said triumphantly, " - you must have seen a damn sight more of his cock than just a glimpse."

Beth looked me in the eye, gave me a mischievous grin and said, "Yes - I suppose I must have done."

Before I could reply, Paul called from the bathroom and my wife hurried off to scrub his back. We gave him his breakfast and stayed with him until after his lunch at which point his girlfriend arrived again with other male athletes in tow. Serena brought the bad news for Paul that she and the rest of the Olympic team were flying out two weeks early for extra acclimatisation. Even though the departure was late the following day, she did not stay the night.


The Athlete



Lying in bed beside Beth I returned to the subject of his endowment. Making my voice deliberately light, I said, "Don't be shy - I'm just interested - exactly how big is Paul's cock?"

In answer, she reached out, took hold of my far from flaccid prick and gave it a friendly squeeze. "I'm not telling you," she said. "But if twenty six years ago I had both of you standing naked in front of me and I had to choose between you only on that criteria - you wouldn't have stood a chance."

There was no more conversation because we were engaged in the most passionate and prolonged sex that we had shared for a very long time.

The next morning we again went up to the flat together just before ten o'clock. Beth stopped outside his bedroom door and said, "You better look after him if it bothers you me doing it."

I shrugged and made myself smile. "No - you know the routine; I'll probably make a mess of it. There's bound to be a pile of washing up again – I'll look after that." I spoke the words bravely but as I walked away, I felt like the tamer who has turned his back on the tiger.

There was no real risk, of that I was certain but there was exhilaration in leaving my wife exposed to the temptation of another man's body.

Like before, Beth joined me while her charge attended to bodily functions in the bathroom. "I have been thinking - how do you manage to get his pants on without touching his dick?"

"I do touch it," she said in a very matter of fact voice. "He does need it tucked in comfortably. Nurses do it all the time and I am acting in the role of honorary nurse. There's absolutely no significance in touching a man's private parts if it isn't in a sexual context."

I had other questions but knowing that she expected them I said nothing. When Beth realised that I was not rising to the bait she added mysteriously, "I have touched other penises besides yours you know." This had been a running joke throughout our marriage. Despite persistent questioning about her previous sexual experience, she had steadfastly refused to give me any details claiming that it was nothing to do with me. Nevertheless, from time to time over the years, she found occasion to slip in these tantalising references.

From that day and thereafter, we provided Paul with his evening meal and spent most evenings with him, watching his television or just sitting talking. Early on, while Beth was downstairs cooking, I brought the conversation round to Serena. Before I could mention my reservations about her fidelity to him, Paul told me with tears in his eyes how much he was missing her already. He went on to reveal their plans to marry and to say how dependent this was on doing well in the Olympics, explaining that a medal or near miss guaranteed a lucrative tour afterwards making personal appearances and taking part in invitation races. "It's all down to Serena now," he concluded sadly, "- but then she always was the one with the real talent." In the end I had not the heart to cast a cloud on his horizon.

Towards the end of the first week, when we were alone, Beth said hesitantly, "Paul would like a nice long soak but he is going to need help getting in and out of the bath. I think that you ought to do it. He's a big lad and he might be too heavy for me if he slips."

This put me on the spot. I had no wish to see his scars and my enthusiasm for touching him had not improved but more importantly, I enjoyed the excitement of leaving Beth alone with him. The risk seemed only theoretical but wilfully exposing my wife of twenty-five years to a young naked black man undoubtedly got my adrenaline flowing. I shook my head as if this held no importance. "No love," I said. "You have got the knack of looking after him and I will be close by if you do have trouble."

Beth accepted my decision without argument and I got the feeling that she had made the offer only as a gesture. A little later she took him for his bath and I busied myself going through the motions of cleaning the kitchen but with my ears tuned to sounds from the bathroom. I heard the bath fill and then an urgent exchange of words as she did have trouble manoeuvring him into the water. Then there was some splashing followed by a long period of low-level chatter.

And then my wife started to giggle. I listened hard but heard no sound from him. The giggling died, there was a pause, a splash and then she giggled again, louder and for longer - and this time I heard his laughter too.

Beth never giggled. A good dirty chuckle or even a belly laugh was more her style. When the girls were small she had occasionally done a forced giggle when joining in their mirth, making herself sound like them, forgoing for a moment the parent child relationship. This giggle was not like that. Certainly not forced and containing, I thought, elements of both embarrassment and excitement. My mind whirred trying to visualise a picture a situation that would explain the emission of that particular noise. The only one to fit was this: - For some reason she is soaping his groin area and he gets a stiffy, she giggles and splashes water to make it go down but instead it gets bigger - this makes her giggle again and he laughs too.

I waited until Beth and I were alone but then immediately asked, "What was so funny in the bathroom."

For a moment her face looked blank but then, as though remembering she said, "Oh, he got an erection - that kind of thing happens. The poor lad was terribly embarrassed so I made it seem funny to put him at ease." A few days later I asked casually asked if Paul ever suffered an embarrassing hard on after that first time and was rather surprised to hear that he had one every time he was in the bath and that they either ignored it or joked about it.

I must mention that during the period that she had been acting as his nurse, my sex life with Beth had improved immeasurably. Early in our marriage we had not been able to leave other alone but over the years the incidence of our lovemaking had waned until, for a long time, it had been fairly steady at twice a week. During that summer it had increased somewhat but someone with a statistical bent would quickly find some correlation with the times Serena had sunbathed almost nude in the garden. Now it was Beth who was the more amorous, snuggling up and frequently grabbing hold of me before I touched her. She was also inclined to skip the long period of kissing and fondling which had, for us, always been an essential part of making love, seeming now eager to get quickly to the screwing. It is strange in view of the situation that I never ascribed my wife's increased passion an inspiration similar to my own after playing voyeur in the garden. I just accepted it as a bonus and thought no more of it.

The hospital had provided Paul with a special stool with a slanting seat, designed for use by people on crutches. When he got out of the bath he half perched on and half leaned against the stool while he got dry and then dressed. This day, I had heard him get out of the bath and as usual had set three mugs and put on the kettle ready for when he emerged. Suddenly I heard water running into the still full bath that he had just vacated. I could think of no reason why this had happened except one - and that was that the noise created had to be the object of the exercise. Had Beth turned on turned on the tap deliberately to prevent me hearing something?

You may wonder why I had not at some time gone down and listened outside the bathroom door. It was important that I should not do that because to do so would be nothing less than spying - displaying a lack of trust. I listened hard but always remained in the kitchen, anxious to take no action that would validate the suspicions in my head. After a short while, over the sound of the water I heard a long low guttural moan and soon after the tap was turned off. 

When Beth and Paul emerged, having taken slightly longer than usual, I took them their coffees leaving mine on the side, then walked quickly to the bathroom and locked the door.

Looking round, everything at first seemed as it should be but then I noticed two rub or scuff marks on the rug by the side of the bath. Closer examination revealed that both scuffs contained minute flecks of what could be cream coloured toilet paper. The slight dampness to my touch was not significant because Paul's wet feet must have passed that way. This was suspicious but not conclusive but then glancing, up I saw a large glob of what was obviously semen, trickling glutinously down the outside of the bath.

My heart was pounding almost out of control but I rejoined the other two, picked up my drink and saying nothing, sat observing them. It may have been my imagination but Paul appeared more relaxed than at any time since leaving hospital and Beth seemed to be secretly pleased with herself. I contained my anger through the rest of that long day and it was not until we were alone in our own part of the house that I said coldly, "So you've started giving him a quick hand job have you?"

Beth froze and looked at me but she did not deny it. "It's not like you make it sound but yes - I did help him. I was going to tell you if you had given me the chance."

"That's why you ran the water to stop me hearing what was going on," I said scathingly.

"I only did that so he wouldn't worry. Tom he's a young man and he has not had any sex since his accident - if I'm any judge he got precious little before. Since the accident he has been numb but now his feelings are coming back with a rush. He sat on the stool with his penis sticking out all stiff and throbbing. I could see that he was in real pain and I just had to do something." She paused and then added with a bit of a laugh in her voice. "I couldn't see how I could possibly pull his pants up otherwise. I just reached out and I hardly had to touch it." 

"I don't see why he couldn't do it himself." Even to me I sounded churlish.

"He can't that's why not. His right hand is still useless and he says he has never been able to use his left. He has tried but that hand is so tired from doing all the work with his crutches that he says he gets cramp almost immediately that he tries. Can't you see that I had to do something?"

"So this is just another one of your nursely duties - I don't believe it."

"I'm sure that thousands of nurses must have done it in the right circumstances."

I was about to dispute this but then I remembered something that I had once read. The bit in the book told about a man who had lost both hands in an industrial accident. After a while his regular nurse on night duty took pity on his distress and masturbated him. She thought that it was just a one off act of pity but the next day he looked at her appealingly and soon it became a nightly ritual. The nurse in question returned home to her husband each morning believing that she had only done something in the spirit of the caring profession but after his release, complete with prosthetic hands, the ex patient hung about the hospital hoping to continue the 'love affair'. This memory choked the words in my throat so instead of speaking, I leaned forward and give Beth a kiss to show that I was not going to make an issue of it.

When he again had a bath, that night as we prepared for bed Beth said casually, "I had to help Paul again today."

I was just going to say 'didn't she help him every day' when I realised what she was telling me. I merely grunted and in that way accepted it. My rational mind could accept that done in a detached way this could hardly be classed a sex act but at a more subconscious level I kept getting aroused, picturing her fingers clasped round his big stiff black cock, wanking him until thick cum spurted from it. Beth did not feel obliged to tell me that she had done it after that but I knew from the running water that it had happened and knew that this had become part of Paul's bath time routine.

Science denies the existence of a sixth sense on the basis that claimed effects cannot be reproduced under laboratory conditions yet everyone at some time experiences something which can't be explained in any other way. Beth and Paul were in his bathroom as usual, fresh water was being added to the bath after he had vacated it - as usual, I could not hear anything - and yet I knew with absolute certainty that something different had occurred. So when they came through to where I had the coffees waiting I was deliberately scanning for some clue. I did not have far to look because on the upper part of my wife's dress over one of her breasts, there was a fair sized wet mark. Beth immediately noticed me looking and as if having feared such scrutiny, gave an unconvincing shrug and explained, "I seem to have splashed myself - I had better nip downstairs and change this dress."

It did not look like a splash mark to me. Rather it looked as if someone wishing to rinse something off the dress had wet only the minimum area necessary to prevent unnecessary disturbance to the garment. I could think of only one substance that she might want to remove. Now if I wanted to toss somebody off, (not that I ever have), I would do it from the side and not directly in the firing line, (unless of course that was the object of the exercise). The evidence pointed in only one direction and the conclusion shocked me. You see this was a painful subject for me. During the marriage we had enjoyed a full and uninhibited sex life in all but one respect - and that was oral sex. Beth had only taken my prick into her mouth an average of once a year, then not very deep and for only a brief period. My cum had never passed her lips. She was also reluctant to let me suck her cunt due to the implied obligation to reciprocate with an act that she had no wish to do. Now, after all those years, I suspected that Beth had done for another man what she had persistently refused to do for me. 

I followed Beth downstairs and found her in our bedroom, dressed only in bra and pants, and selected a fresh dress from the wardrobe. She turned round as if she had been expecting me.

"That wasn't a splash mark on your dress. What the hell did you wash off?" I blurted.

My wife looked me straight in the eye. "You know what it was Tom," she said softly. "I sucked Paul's penis and some of his stuff spilled onto my dress."

I felt as if I had died - as if everything that I had ever known was crumbling around me. No matter how certain I had been in my mind, deep down I had hoped that she could give me an innocent explanation. "How could you?" I managed to say.

"It was surprisingly easy," she said but her tone of voice made the words less trite than they may appear.

With an effort I controlled my voice. "What really hurts," I said, " - is that it's something that you have never done to me no matter how much you knew I wanted it."

"Can we sit down on the bed. There is something that I should have told you a long, long time ago. Perhaps if I tell you now it might help you to understand."

Reluctantly I sat myself near her. How could she possibly say anything that would make this gross thing understandable?

Beth reached out as if to take my hand in hers but then changed her mind. "About a year before I met you I had been to the pictures with a friend and afterwards we split up and I stated walking home alone. It was summertime and a warm clear night. When I got to the park I took the short cut across the park - this was something that I very rarely did but it saved over ten minutes and I was tired. Halfway across, three youths came up and grabbed me - I say youths because at least two of them were younger than me. They dragged me into the bandstand, got me on the floor and started pulling my jeans down. There was no point screaming because I had seen nobody else in the park so instead I begged saying 'Please don't - I'm a virgin.' It was a lie but they believed me and the oldest one said, 'OK - you can suck us off instead.' I had no choice - it was one thing or the other. I had to do it properly and they said that I had to swallow their cum as part of the bargain. Later I realised that I should have just lain there and thought of something else while they raped me but I was terrified of getting pregnant. I think that I sucked one of them twice - I do know that when I thought I had finished another prick was stuffed in my mouth but perhaps I lost count."

At this point my wife's voice began to falter but she controlled herself and continued. "Afterwards they started being friendly, acting as if they had done nothing wrong. One gave me a cigarette and when they let me go another called out 'See you around' as if I had met them to do it willingly. When I got home I drank salt water trying to make myself sick to get all their stuff out of me but it didn't work. I had a bath then put all the clothes I was wearing into a bag and next morning got it in the dustbin without my mother knowing. The clothes were covered in what the police call forensics but I wasn't going to tell the police what had happened to me. I never told anybody about it - until now, telling you. For years afterwards I had dreams about it - they didn't really stop until after Abigail was born. When we got together, I knew that you wanted me to suck you but when I tried it all came flooding back and I had the same 'overpowered' feeling and couldn't go through with it. Many times over the years I have set out determined to do it for you but always had to stop when the feeling came back. "

A surge of love and sympathy caused me take hold of my wife's hand but then Beth took a deep breath and I wondered whether to remove it, guessing that she was about to speak about the incident with Paul. "Tonight Paul was perched on the stool and I was drying his legs, he had an erection but then his prick seems permanently stiff these days. Usually I dry one leg then move round to dry the other but this time I stayed where I was and reached but without me realising my breasts must have been pressed against one leg while I was drying the other. As I stood up I noticed that his penis was even bigger than usual and the skin was so tight it looked like it might split. I reached out to do what I usually do but the moment that I touched it he winced with pain. His cock felt extremely hot to the touch and you could almost see waves of heat rising from it. From the look of agony on his face, I knew that I had to do something. I crouched down in front of him and started blowing on it to cool it down - that may seem silly but it was all that I could think of. Going by his breathing I thought this was working and it pleased me so much that I spontaneously leaned forward and kissed the head of his penis."

Beth's eyes flicked up to my face reading reaction and then, apparently satisfied she said, "The moment that my lips touched him, I knew what I had to do. I felt that I could go through with it because I was in control for the first time. I'm not going to tell you that it was over quickly because it wasn't. I could feel that just having his cock in my mouth was soothing him and I made it last to calm him as much as possible. When he did cum that was a lot more than I expected. I swallowed most of it but quite a lot bubbled out of my mouth and some fell on my dress. Tom, I believe that I sucked the pain and frustration right out of him and because of that, I that I feel proud of myself and not at all ashamed. But I'm sorry that you guessed what I did and have been hurt by it, especially after the way I have denied you for so long. I didn't mean to be unfaithful to you and I still don't think that I really was."

Beth stopped and not daring to see my face, stared fixedly down but her words had done the impossible. I moved closer, put an arm round her shoulders and kissed her forehead. "Does this mean that you will be able to do it to me now?" I asked.




The Athlete



My wife looked up, her face flushed with happiness. "I think so. I really do think so - I'm certainly going to try."

When we returned upstairs Paul looked very uncomfortable but when I had chatted to him quite normally for a while he relaxed. When we were in bed that night I was eager to put it to the test but had sense not to give her sausage to chew as the first dish on the menu. I just fondled for a time and then slowly kissed down my wife's body. As I approached the target area Beth quickly parted her thighs to give me access and a moment later my eager tongue tasted her innermost delights. She lay enjoying my attentions for less than a minute before urgently edging round into the sixty-nine position but in doing so signalled that she wanted to be on top. As soon as she was in a satisfactory position, I was able to savour the sensation that I had craved for so long as she sucked me with obvious relish. Beth had almost the biggest orgasm that I could remember, her throws of passion almost crushing my head between her thighs. When I had ejaculated, she forced me to leave my limp prick in her mouth, continuing to gently suck and tickle it with her tongue while holding me tight with her face buried in my groin. I found time to consider the peculiarity of fate because Beth had lived nineteen years then sucked three pricks in one day, allowed the next quarter century as intermission and then sucked two more - again on the same day.

When we were once more right way round and lying in each other's arms Beth said regretfully, "What a fool I've been - to think of all those wasted years when we could have been doing that."

How could I resent her having given head to Paul when it had opened this forbidden area of delight to me - but I still wanted an undertaking from her. "You can give hand relief to our lodger a dozen times a day for all I care," I said. "But please don't suck him off again."

"I won't darling, I promise," she said. "I also promise that you are going to get lots, lots more of it in the future." After the events of the day I fell asleep, a foolishly contented man.

The Olympics started two days later and from then on we watched the television coverage whenever it was on. Serena was quickly seized on a glamour girl and given more media coverage for her looks than for her superb performances. She seemed to run away with her early sprint heats and also figured well in the long jump elimination rounds. Once when the camera was lingering on Serena limbering up at the end of the long jump runway, the commentator forgot himself enough to say dreamily, "Just...look.... at.....those....thighs."

Whenever the girl was featured, I got a semi hard on but this was more from memories of the garden than her image on screen. In the long jump final, she got a marginal red flag on visibly the longest jump of the competition and eventually finished fourth.

Paul was naturally disappointed for her but told us, "Wait for the sprint final - that's her real event."

His confidence was well based because after a very close race, she finished second. "See," Paul said triumphantly, "Doesn't that validate her trainers philosophy about restricted sex?"

Both Beth and I nodded in agreement but uncharitably I wonder if a bit of illicit sex might not have cost her the gold. I brought up some wine and we had an impromptu party to celebrate his girl friend's success. The alcohol may have dulled my perception but as the evening progressed, I had a feeling that the young man's gaiety had an increasingly brittle edge. 

Ever since the day that Beth described her ordeal as a teenager, my sex life had been the best for years. To be honest the frequency began to strain my capabilities and I have to admit there were nights when I dreaded her snuggling enticingly against me. When the Olympics were over, I began to be allowed nights off. Life was now perfect with everything in equilibrium - I was living life to the limit but not beyond.

The day after winning her silver medal, Serena rang Paul, (it amazed me that she had not found time to ring him before). She had called him to impart news that was both good and bad - specifically that she was going on a invitational tour of the USA and would not be returning to England for at least another three months. Paul took this surprisingly well - but then she would be earning many thousands for them in appearance money.

Seven or eight days later that I woke in the middle of the night to find Beth missing and her place beside me quite cold. Hardly had I made the discovery when I heard the WC flush and Beth appeared by the bed wearing her dressing gown. Seeing that I was awake she quickly asked, "Is your stomach OK - I wondered because we have only eaten the same food?" Is it a lie to deliberately give the wrong impression while only speaking words of truth?

A week later I woke again to again find my wife absent. When she had not returned after ten minutes, I got up and went in search of her. The bathroom door stood open and downstairs the kitchen was empty. I was at a loss where to look next so I was on my way back to bed when Beth appeared beside me having come from the direction of the stairs which led to the upstairs flat. We were each equally surprised to see the other but she recovered faster and said, "I thought that I heard Paul cry out."

"Did he?" I asked still a bit bemused.

"Well he's asleep now," she said. I accepted this explanation and followed her back to our bed.

A matter of days later I once more found myself sleeping solo in the middle of the night. Repeating the previous search again drew a blank but this time I made a coffee and took that together with an ashtray and down to wait on the bottom step of Paul's stairs. I wondered what was taking her so long. You may wonder why I had not gone up to the flat and the answer is that did not know what I might find - even though I was sure that there would be nothing to 'find'. This may seem naïve but at that point I still thought it inconceivable that Beth might have gone up there for an immoral purpose, (to use an old fashioned phrase.) My wife's persuasive tongue had brainwashed me to such an extent that I no longer regarded her unusual hand therapy as a sexual act. I did imagine what she might be 'up to' with Paul with a feeling of titillation rather than distress. It is possible to pleasurable theorise a situation that you hope will never occur in reality - as a woman can fantasise being raped by a tall handsome stranger when the real act by a deranged psychopath, who might as easily kill her, is a terrifying degrading experience. 

I had just finished my third smoke when I head my wife coming down. She did not seem either shocked or upset to find me waiting for her and the very calmness of her demeanour reassured me. Pointing to my empty mug she said, "Can you make me a coffee love? I've got to go to the bathroom - I'll be down in a couple of minutes."

When she arrived I had just made the two coffees and we sat at the kitchen table facing each other. Unusually Beth took one of my cigarettes and only when it was lit did she look up at me. "Did Paul cry out again?" I prompted.

"No - I just went up to him - it is the sixth time that I have done it. I go to give him sex," she said softly. "To be specific, I go to let him fuck me - or more accurately for me to fuck him because Paul has to lie on his back."

The moment that she told me this, instead of rage, my emotions went onto automatic pilot and I reacted in a remote, detached way, as if this news was merely academic. "I never, ever thought that you would be unfaithful to me," was all I said.

"I know what I've done but I don't feel like an unfaithful wife," she said simply.

"You screw a fucking black and don't think it's cheating?" I asked incredulously. This was the only time that I let anger break through but the apparent racism of my remark shocked me.

Beth's eyes widened on hearing me but she shrugged her shoulders and said, I know that it is illogical but it's not at all how I imagined infidelity would be. Throughout our marriage I have wondered about going with other men without ever wanting to try. I thought there were only two kinds of infidelity - either exciting sex with someone you did not care for or building a relationship with another man and gradually transferring your love to him. This is not either because I love you as much as I have ever done and you can't have exciting sex with a man who can hardly move. I know that I have done wrong in a way but on balance I believe that I have done Paul more good than I have done you harm."

"I suppose that you are going to make me understand, the same way you did about giving him a blow-job. Come on - this is going to be interesting," I said scathingly.

My wife shook her head helplessly. "I don't think that I can because I do not really understand it myself."

"Try."

"I care for Paul deeply but I care as a parent would - exactly as I care for our girls. In fact, since his real parents went home I have felt as if I was his mother and at times wished that I really was."

"Yes - fine. We know that mothers are screwing their sons all the time." 

"I imagine that a lot of mothers do have incestuous feelings towards their sons - more than fathers and daughters. The difference is that for men sex is a taking thing where for a woman it is more giving. I'm certain that if sex was the only way to relieve severe distress in their sons, most mothers would ignore the taboo and do what I did."

The look of love in Beth's eyes and the pained expression on her face told me that she desperately wanted to explain and was not just a woman, caught with her pants down and tying to talk her way out of the hole. With a lot more sympathy in my voice I said, "Perhaps you ought to start at the beginning."

My wife stubbed out her cigarette and lit another. "The night of the Olympic woman's sprint final I suspected that Paul was not as happy as he was trying to pretend and after Serena rang him the next day he looked terrible. He put on a brave face when anyone was looking but I could tell that he was suffering. I was so worried that I could not get to sleep that night and just lay thinking about him. Suddenly there was a cry of torment from his flat. You were still asleep so I slipped on my dressing gown and went up to see what was wrong. Paul did not realise that I was in his bedroom so I was able to stand by the bed and look at him. He was crying and shaking violently all over. When I spoke he told me that he felt his life was over. For the last ten years all his plans and energies had been devoted to athletics, with Serena added to his thoughts for the past three. He knows that he will never run again, he has poor career prospects and he thinks that he is bound to lose Serena. Paul was telling me this for a long time, it was a cool night so I slipped under the covers beside him while he continued. My presence, and perhaps the fact that I had my hand on his forehead, stopped the trembling but when poor Paul finished talking, he began to sob uncontrollably."

As she related that last bit, tears sprang spontaneously into my wife's eyes, triggered by the memory. "I had no choice but to snuggle up close and put my arms around him," she went on. "For a long time I had felt that he was making very slow progress and I knew that he was battling severe depression. After listening to him I seriously thought that he might be suicidal. Gently stroking his chest made him less emotional but he started bending his good leg up as far as it would go. Knowing that something was still bothering him physically I put my hand down to see what it was. His cock was burning hot and very stiff like the time I had to use my mouth on him and he was trying to keep the bedclothes off it. I knew that he needed me to do what I did before but I had promised you that I wouldn't. There was only one thing that I could do - so I managed to straddle him and put his penis inside me. It hurt him a lot till I got it in but I could see from his face that it was worth it. Paul couldn't move and I didn't - I just stayed still and squeezed with my vaginal muscles until eventually I felt him cum. His eyes closed and he fell asleep with a serene look on his face. I just lightly kissed his forehead and came back downstairs. I cleaned myself up in the bathroom and then flushed the toilet in case you had missed me. It was in my mind to tell you but I didn't think that it would happen again and it seemed silly to upset you over something that was really nothing."

Beth lit her third cigarette and took several hard drags while ordering in her mind what she still had to tell. "The next day he was happy and relaxed and also the day after but on the third day I knew he was getting edgy again. When you were fast asleep that night I went up. Paul was awake, not crying or distressed but just staring up at the ceiling. I slipped off my dressing gown and got into bed with him naked. He started talking about Serena. When she stops training she gets an insatiable appetite for sex so he knows that she is screwing lots of men. Paul said that he can't stop tormenting himself with mental images of her doing it. I said that I thought she loved him but Paul said that it had nothing to do with love - just something that she needed to do. He said all that quite calmly but when he had finished I got on top of him again. During all the things that I have done with Paul he has never touched me, including the first time I was in bed with him but this time he reached up and held my breasts. I also moved myself up and down a bit. After he had climaxed, I left him asleep and went back downstairs. You were awake when I got back into our bed and I was very glad that I had thought to flush the toilet."

"After that you just continued going up when you knew I was asleep?"

Not every night. When we both say goodnight to Paul before coming downstairs, he looks at me - wondering. I shake my head slightly but every third night I can't resist the appeal in his eyes and nod to say that he can expect me. The thing is that it's done him so much good and that encouraged me to continue. Before he lacked motivation and I could tell that he was not making anything like the progress that he should have been. Since I have been visiting him he is far happier and relaxed, - and you must have noticed how much better is can move around on his crutches. Just now in bed he was able to thrust back at me for the first time, so that just proves that he is improving."

That was a progress report detail that I didn't want to hear. "I almost caught you out earlier?" I said.

"Red handed. I would have told you then if you had asked any questions. It was actually rather awkward because I had to go straight back to bed and I leaked onto our sheets. Just now I could feel his spunk trickling down my leg which was why I had to dash straight to the bathroom. We don't use a condom - I haven't got any and I didn't ask him. I doubt if I can get pregnant now and if I do I won't keep it - it's not medically recommended anyway at my age."

"Would you ever have told me if I hadn't caught you?"

"I wanted to and almost started a few times but the longer it went on the harder it got. I think I just hoped that it would stop before you found out."

"So you did intend to stop?"

"If course I did Tom - just as soon as he was better and no longer needed my support. To carry on longer would make it into an affair." 

"And you say that Paul is a great deal better now than he was?"

"Yes," she conceded reluctantly.

"Then it stops now." I said. That was all. There was no jealousy, no bitter recriminations and even I wondered why. Part of the reason I think was that I held Paul in high regard myself. Unlike Beth, I had not come to regard him as an honorary son but I was not that far off. In addition, I felt great pity at the way his glittering dreams had been irrevocably crushed through no fault of his own. Part of me was actually glad that she had been able to help him.

Beth's face showed her puzzlement at my mild reaction. "You don't mind?"

"I do mind but I can accept the reason that you did it and believe that there was no connection with your love for me. As far as I am concerned, it never happened."

Beth threw herself into my arms and smothered me with kisses. When I was able to free my mouth, I slipped a hand past the dressing gown on to her bare flesh. "Let's go to bed and you can prove that it is still me that you love."

She hesitated. "Are you sure after...." she said glancing upwards.

"I just said - it never happened," I told her.

Despite the equanimity with which I had accepted hearing about my wife's sexual expeditions away from my bed, a delayed reaction materialised the following afternoon. I was sitting watching television with Paul while my wife was in our part of the house preparing an evening meal. When he was distracted by events on the screen, I studied him and found that I was harbouring a growing resentment. I could not understand how anyone could enjoy hospitality, screw the man's wife behind his back and then chat to him in a perfectly normal manner. There was not a hint of either guilt or unease on the young man's face. Perhaps I just wanted to wipe the complacency off his face or maybe the cruelty was my way of taking revenge. "So Serena is opening her legs to all and sundry by all accounts," I said unkindly.

Paul didn't turn a hair. "It's only to be expected," he said calmly turning to face me. "She is always very aroused after a big competition. There has to be something to replace the intensity of training and Serena likes sex. If I was out there as I should be, everything would be fine but as I am stuck here she is bound to screw other people."

My killer shaft had failed to strike home so I upped the stakes. "She was humping the javelin thrower even before you had your accident."

"I know about Bruce," he said with the same placid acceptance. "You don't understand do you - you think that sex is always tied to love. Serena and I love each other deeply and when we are in bed we make love - not just have sex. I told you that Serena's trainer is against dissipation of energy - well according to her it is emotional energy that he means and making love is emotional. You see, if you are contented then it saps the motivation to force yourself through the pain barrier. On the other hand straight sex is good because it acts like the valve on a pressure cooker. Serena uses Bruce for that, she told me quite openly that they fuck like dogs. She doesn't really like him though - says that he is too arrogant and conceited but they just happen to have the perfect sexual chemistry."

Suppressing a smile I asked, "What does your trainer say on the subject."

Paul hesitated. "Actually he doesn't agree. My coach follows a completely different philosophy but it's what her trainer says that counts - and he has her results to prove it."

He believed it - the poor sap really believed it. I could see plainly that his girlfriend was playing him for a fool. For the first time I realised that the girl had deliberately brought me to the boil in the garden, Serena undoubtedly used her beauty to toy with men - she was nothing but a harlot only concerned with own pleasure. I thought, 'How can any self-respecting man knowingly do nothing while his wife goes off to fuck someone else?" 

I thought that that my mouth had fired two blanks, (as my prick had been doing for many years). But, like the man in the movies who does not fall the moment he falls, my words had an insidious effect on Paul, making him question the reasoning behind his defence of Serena.

I am perhaps my worst enemy. That evening, claiming a headache he excused himself early and the next day, while not depressed he had a definite tendency to seeming morose and introspected.




The Athlete



On the third day, after we had eaten Paul put on some training videos, mainly featuring Serena. Despite my now low opinion of the girl I would have happily watched them with him but could not escape the impression that he would rather be alone. So Beth and I returned to our own front room for a rare evening by ourselves. She poured two drinks, (hers gin, mine whiskey), and then went to refill her glass when I had hardly started mine. "You've got something on your mind," I said.

She nodded and said one word, "Paul".

"Don't tell me - because he is getting himself low, you want to start visiting him again to cheer him up."

"No," she said. "I do want to start having sex with him again - but for myself."

I just stared, not immediately able to comprehend what she was telling me. "I have deceived you Tom," she said. "I have been deceiving myself too - I believed every word that I told you but it's not true. When Paul started to deteriorate, I suddenly realised that I had been hoping he would and that has made me analyse everything that has happened."

I gave a long sigh as presentiment gripped me and then took a big gulp from my glass. Fortified with Dutch courage I said encouragingly, "Better get it off your chest love. We've always been open with each other and there is no reason to stop now. You had better tell me how you feel - whatever the cost."

"Those afternoons in the garden," she started. "You looked at Serena and I looked at Paul but where you had lust written all over your face, I saw him only as a fine young man. For the first time I regretted that we only had daughters and wished that I had given birth to a son like him.

After his accident, the first morning when I saw him naked as I dressed him, to me he was a hurt boy and not any kind of sex object. I hardly noticed his penis because my attention was on the once sleek athlete's leg that had been so cruelly disfigured - and when I tucked his penis into his shorts, I did it with as little thought as tucking in the end of a flapping belt. It wasn't until you asked how big it was that I even thought about his cock but I answered you naughtily because I thought you wanted me to." 

Beth gave me a little smile. "I really was innocent that first day. Next morning when I dressed him, because of what you had wanted to know, I deliberately looked and decided that he did have a very nice cock. I was looking forward to touching it but then forgot and kicked myself afterwards because I had again tucked it away without thinking. The next time I put it in his shorts a different way taking longer and had a good feel. There was a thrill handling a different prick after so long and for the first time I saw Paul as a man and not just a patient."

My wife again resorted to a cigarette for support and then said slowly with extra emphasis, "What I am going to say was in my subconscious at the time and I have tried to work out how I must have been secretly feeling. Some of it I know is true but I have had to guess motives for what I know I did - so I may be a little bit unfair to myself. After that I looked at his cock a lot and he knew I did - I also handled it more than I strictly needed to but not so that it was obvious. By the end of the week I was wondering why he never had an erection because I've heard real nurses have that problem all the time. Then I realised that he didn't fancy me because of my age so I started dressing a lot more sexily - I still do but I don't think you have noticed. I wear sweaters a lot more, often without a bra and I got out all my thinnest tightest trousers and I leave my knickers off when I wear them. I got so that I badly wanted to see his prick nice and stiff, to know how big it really was."

"When he wanted a bath, I knew it was my chance to be a bit naughty," Beth said with a bit of a laugh. "I did try to stop the whole thing right there by getting you to bathe him but when you refused I was so glad. When I had washed Paul's back I handed him the soap. He was managing quite well but I said 'Give it here' and took the soap off him. I washed him all over but most of the time my hand was lathering between his legs and I got the desired result. When his cock got big and stiff, I had to make a joke of it and act silly to stop myself from grabbing hold with both hands and squeezing. After that he got an erection the moment he was naked in the bathroom - but not when I got him out of bed, I think he was in too much pain from moving his damaged leg and shoulder. He really has a beautiful penis when it is big and hard - I could have sat and gazed at it for hours. One day, when he was on the stool getting dry, I couldn't stop myself anymore and got hold of it. But the second that I touched it there was spunk squirting all over. I was terribly thrilled that I had made it do that but at the same time I was disappointed because I had hoped for a nice play. Every day after that I did plenty of stroking and squeezing and also had the excitement of making him cum."

Beth paused and glanced at me hesitantly. "I didn't exactly tell you the truth about the next thing," she said. "It was true that one day Paul couldn't bear for me to touch his prick with my hand but I made it seem that I had pressed against him accidentally. I had actually deliberately rubbed up against him a lot - like drying his chest from behind him and pressing my tits against his back. Remembering back to what you said the first day, the buttons of my blouse came undone the way I told you but I could easily have refastened them. I didn't and now I think I was already trying to get him worked up just as you thought. A week or so later, when I got down in front of him, I knew I was going to have his cock in my mouth. I did the things I told you but only as a build up and I didn't open my mouth on the spur of the moment either, as I led you to believe. I honestly had no intention of sucking him off completely - I didn't think I could because of those three youths years ago. But the moment that the hot cock skin touched my tongue, I knew that I could go the whole way. I desperately wanted to have his creamy cum in my mouth and at that time I thought it was the only way I would get it inside me at all." 

My wife stood up and looked down at my glass, then when I had drained the remnants she took it away to bring back two refills. Taking her seat again she said easily, "Now I have got to tell you about the fucking. The first night I did hear Paul make some kind of cry but I didn't mention to you that other nights I had lain awake for hours, with my ears straining for any kind of noise that I could use as an excuse to go up to him. I also jumped into bed with him before I got chilled - not after as I said. I didn't lie about his cock being in a painful condition but I think I intended to get it up my twat, one way or another, from the moment I first put my foot on his stairs. After the first time I felt free to go up to him any time that I wanted - 'to check he was OK'. The fact that sex was obviously doing him good helped me no end because if you can convince yourself that you are making a sacrifice for someone else it is possible to do almost anything with a clear conscience. I should have known that I was fooling myself because I was trembling with excitement every time that I went up the stairs. I didn't give him a chance to talk because I wanted that lovely prick inside me as quickly as possible - he was always awake but I'm sure that I would have woken him up if he had been asleep. Tom, I know now that I have been unfaithful to you in the full sense of the word. " 

I took a gulp from my glass and asked thickly, "What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to say that you don't mind. I want you to say that this will not affect the way that you feel about me because my love for you is exactly the same as it always has been. I want you to say that it doesn't matter."

I smiled. "My love, I knew when you told me last time. I knew that your motives were not as altruistic as you tried to pretend - but I could tell that you believed what you said and it was that which was important. If you had sex with any other man I would go crazy with rage and jealousy but because it was Paul I can't seem to get very worked up about it and I don't understand why. The fact that he has been so badly hurt may explain it or perhaps it has something to do with me liking him a lot myself. You mentioned three things that you wanted me to say but I think that there is a fourth. Because Paul has gone to pieces over the last three days, you want my permission to go to bed with him a few more times." Because I felt such guilt for causing his deterioration, I was hardly in a position to refuse such a request.

"Yes - I do want to go to bed with Paul but not just a few more times."

"What exactly are you asking?"

Beth did not answer me directly. "Darling," she said. "The other day when I confessed that Paul and I had fucked and you forgave me, I loved you so much and in bed afterwards we had the most wonderful sex that I can remember. But afterwards I lay awake for hours feeling totally flat and empty. In the end I realised that I couldn't face the thought of never having it with him again. It was this ache I have got for him that let me know I had lied to you and been lying to myself. I now have to admit that I am attracted to him as a man - the size of his cock, the young firmness of his body and I think that his colour has something to do with it. Since Paul came back from hospital I have felt more alive that at anytime, I wake up every morning with a tingle of excitement at the day ahead in a way that I haven't done for years. I feel young again and I have developed an appetite for sex that I thought was gone long ago - I think you have possibly noticed that. If I don't go with Paul again, I think I am going to lose all that and I can't face the thought of going back to how we were."

"I certainly have noticed," I grinned. "I don't think that I have screwed you on five consecutive nights for over twenty years. Mind you, with the best will in the world, I don't think I will manage that again very often." 

"That is just what I wanted to say," Beth told me with a note of satisfaction in her voice. "The way I am now I could easily enjoy having sex seven days out of seven. How many do you think you could handle?"

"Six," I said and then joked, "You've got to remember that I'm not as young as you."

"Six?" she repeated, looking at me from under her eyebrows.

"All right - maybe five at a push," I conceded.

"So I could go upstairs and have fun with Paul twice a week without it affecting you at all," she said triumphantly

"I suppose so," I confirmed but thinking that I was only agreeing in principle.

"Does that mean I can go now?" she asked. I could tell that she was pretty confident of my answer but there was just a touch of uncertainty in here eyes.

The look of happy anticipation on her face left me only one answer. Hell, I had spent the last quarter of a century doing whatever I could to make this woman happy, so why would I want to spoil that record now? Instead of speaking I just nodded, to be rewarded with a quick kiss before she was gone.

Left alone I was far less sure of my permission than when still feeling the glow of her gratitude. I realised that it was a very different matter accepting her infidelity in retrospect than being fully aware of what she was doing while she was actually doing it. What was I meant to do while my wife was being fucked by a far bigger and better cock than mine?

Almost automatically I went to the bottom of the stairs and sat withy my ears already cocked but quickly realised that this would quickly drive me crazy. Acknowledging that I was setting myself up for torment, I took a grip and went to the lounge, put on some loud music, poured a tumbler full of whisky and concentrated on dissociating my mind from what was happening upstairs. It worked and two hours later, having reached the bottom of the bottle, I stumbled to bed and fell immediately into a drunken dreamless sleep. On waking, out of long habit I reached out, to discover from the empty place and cold sheets that Beth had stayed with him all night. 

My wife was already in the kitchen when I went downstairs and she ran to me with a loving kiss the moment that I appeared. "You might like to know that your kindness and generosity last night saved Paul's life."

I laughed. "Come on - so you cheered him up with your cunt as I knew you would but isn't 'saved his life' laying it on a bit thick."

"Seriously Tom - he was just going to kill himself when I found him. He was sitting watching a video of Serena with every pain killing pill that he had lying on the couch beside him - remember we got him a full month's supply yesterday."

My heart sank. "So he wanted Serena training for her silver medal to be the last thing he would ever see?"

Beth shook her head. "No the video was not like that. Paul had watched the ones of her practising starts and dipping for the tape and then he found another one in a side pocket of her training bag. It was of Serena and her coach having sex. The man has got to be in his sixties because he's got white hair but he's very fit - with a simply enormous muscle between his legs. I've got to tell you that Serena is a very lewd girl."

"So Paul didn't know she was cheating with her coach?" I asked, almost giving away my knowledge that Paul was aware she was playing around with the javelin thrower."

"Course he didn't - Paul thought that she was completely faithful to him -at least before she went to the Olympics. Anyway, I got there just in time because he had only taken two pills. I pushed the rest away and sat down on the couch and watched the video with him. I started rubbing his prick through his trousers and when that didn't distract him, I got it out - it was very very stiff. Even that did not take his attention from the screen. When the video finished he rewound and started again - I think he had watched it several times already before I got there - it was only about twenty minutes long. I did not appreciate the significance but Paul told me later that what upset him most about the video was that the camera kept moving about which meant that there was a third person present doing the filming."

"Kinky," I said.

"I wasn't going to let Paul ignore me so I stood up, blocking his view of the screen, and started taking my clothes off in a very sexy manner. When I was naked he pulled me to him and buried his face between my tits. I finished up lying across his lap and Paul got his fingers up inside me for the first time - it was nice. We fucked where we were on the couch. He was shuffled forward with a cushion behind his back and I sat on his lap facing him with my legs on either side of his body. At one point I managed to get hold of the remote control and switch the TV off but Paul didn't notice by then. Afterwards we went to bed and fucked again."

"So a good time was had by all," I said.

"Oh yes, it was lovely. The important thing is that Paul is back on track. I told him that you knew about the sex and had given permission for me to be with him one night a week. He was a bit disappointed that it wasn't more but I pointed out that I would be able to stay with him all night."

I had not realised that I had agreed to her stopping with him after the sex but I did not quibble. In bed with me during the rest of the week Beth made very enjoyable efforts to show that I was not losing out on the deal but then it came time for Paul's night again. I had found it surprisingly easy to let my wife you up to him but it was far harder to return downstairs alone leaving them together. I found that I couldn't do it, so waited until Paul took himself to the bathroom at which point I jumped up and said, "I'm off - say goodnight for me."

Beth followed me to the top of the stairs to give me a very loving kiss. As I turned to go she whispered in my ear, "There's a video under your pillow that I think you will like watching. Just don't talk about afterwards because Paul thinks I got rid of it. " 

The video was really hot and I reckoned that, in light of Serena's current celebrity status, if we were unscrupulous enough to sell it, one of the internet porn companies would be prepared to pay thousands. In view of what I have said about Paul's girlfriend you will guess that I thoroughly enjoyed my viewing. When I had ogled her in the garden I had ruled myself out due to the age difference but watching her doing those things with a man at least ten years older than me, made me wonder. Perhaps if I had made the opportunity she might have given me a tumble.

From then on Beth fucked me out of my mind. She had developed a ravenous appetite for oral sex and I revelled in the long denied sensation of shooting my cum in her mouth. Unfortunately, then when I was happy to go to sleep she wanted to be fucked as well and immediately started to get me ready again. Even when I eventually got stiff, I had trouble ejaculating and had to resort to imagining her with Paul before I could finish. One night I said in despair, "What you need is a good vibrator."

"No need," she told me "I've already got a live one upstairs that's not being used." Inevitably a few nights later when I admitted defeat and begged for a night off, Beth said brightly, "If you don't want me love - do you mind terribly if I pop up to Paul?" It was with relief rather than angst that I let her go. 

From then on Beth spent two and often three nights with him every week, one official and the others when I preferred to save my energy by letting her go. She started to bloom. Her face had a permanent glow, she naturally lost weight down to size twelve and I thought she looked ten years younger. In contrast I looked older and checking in the mirror I could imagine that my face had acquired a rather haggard cast. My wife told me happily that she and her toy boy lover always screwed twice, (more often three times), before going to sleep, confessing that had she realised that he could get stiff again quite so quickly, she would have stayed with him longer on those first six illicit visits. Following the nights that she spent with him, I was always down in our kitchen some time before she appeared. One morning, Beth was so late that fearing she had overslept so I went up to give her a call. However, near the top of the stairs to the flat I heard Paul's bedsprings bouncing and realised that they got in a quick shag in the mornings too. In addition, on occasions I had reason to leave the house for short periods and could imagined that my absence gave opportunity for matinee performances as well.

Paul also improved dramatically. He became able to walk about slowly without using crutches and could make his way, (with assistance), up and down stairs. One morning, bursting with excitement, Beth told me that they had managed to screw with him on top. She described how she had lain with her bottom hanging over the edge of the bed, holding up bent legs with hands behind her knees. Paul had stood with his feet on the floor, leaning forward and supporting himself on his hands. Intent that I should get the full picture Beth left out no detail and I think would have happily drawn me a diagram had I asked. 

For a month we thought that Beth was pregnant but she did not seem unduly bothered. One morning at breakfast she said casually that she had read about women all over the world who were safely giving birth well into their fifties. I made no comment and it turned out to be a false alarm after all - her periods had been haywire for quite a while.

Just before her tour was due to end Serena rang Paul to say she was ending their relationship and the following day the sports pages of the newspaper reported that she was engaged to Bruce, the gold medal javelin man. Paul was unperturbed. His compensation had come through and he used part of it to buy a small automatic car to drive himself to the gym for light weight training and massage. From discussion with the gym professionals, it turned out there had been an administration foul up at the hospital and that a physiotherapist should have been visiting him every day since his release - this probably explains the initial poor progress.




The Athlete



You may think that I let my wife sleep with Paul without any regret - that I always had a carefree heart when she left me to go to his bed, but that is not the case. Granted that on those nights when age had dulled my ardour, it was easy to let her go but it was different on his official night. There was a big difference between merely allowing Paul to take advantage of her unused sexual capacity and being myself the one to whom her body was not available on demand. I was badly bothered on those days. One reason was that I always seemed to be randy myself, this no doubt at least partly inspired by thoughts of what they would be doing later. More significantly, at Beth's request I left them alone early about 10.30 p.m. I could understand my wife's desire to have some personal time with Paul outside bed but it was this that I found hardest to take. If she just joined him in bed and they fucked once, twice or half a dozen times, it made no difference because it was just sex. But walking about with him, talking, undressing together and then getting into bed with him made it into more of a relationship - a relationship that excluded me. 

I was left with two hours to kill before I could go to bed with any reasonable chance of sleep. The newspaper distracted me for a few minutes but neither a book nor television could hold my attention. Sometimes I watched the Serena video. At times this helped but at others it only accentuated my thoughts about what was going on in the flat and left me tormented with jealousy. I spent a lot of time just wandering round touching things - for some reason I had a need to keep on the move. That was how I came to look in the drawer. Throughout the marriage my wife had looked after paying bills and the general documentation that you acquire through time with my only involvement occasionally signing a form that was placed before me. All of this stuff was kept in a certain drawer that I had not looked in for years. Without planning to I found that I had opened the drawer. Lying on top I could see an envelope that obviously contained photographs and natural curiosity made me look, to discover that they were Polaroid pictures of Beth and Paul engaged in sex acts. I knew that Beth might easily have shown them to me but she gave such graphic descriptions of what they did together that she probably felt photographic proof unnecessary. She had not hidden the prints but, in her typical fashion, had simply left them on view in a place where I was extremely unlikely to look.

I carried the photographs through to the kitchen, looked through them one by one then set them out in rows on the table. The majority of them featured his penis, some by itself from different angles but most with Beth in association. One I rather liked showed her grinning at the camera, her chin touching his balls with his prick up the middle of her face resting against her nose. Quite a few showed her licking it but there were none where she actually had his cock in her mouth. There was one informative shot with my wife's hand holding a ruler against his erect member, showing that at nine inches it was a fat two plus inches longer than mine.

I found only a single copulation picture. For this the camera must have rested on his chest and featured Beth raising herself up, with the column of his cock disappearing inside her cunt. There was one Polaroid of Beth on all fours facing away from the camera and another with her lying on her back, legs wide apart, happily posing for an open crotch shot, (it was obvious that she had already been fucked). The masturbation picture must have taken several attempts to get as it shows a feminine hand holding his shaft and a column of spunk which had risen only a couple of inches from his cock head. There were two other cum shots. In one it was splattered all over her tits and in the other Paul had scored a direct hit just below her eye. There were stringy strands of semen dangling from both her eyebrow and nose, and Beth's small tongue was curled upwards trying to capture the cum dangling above her upper lip.

In a strange way these pictures helped me rather than increase my torment and I always get them out on these nights, developing a ritual when laying out so that they can be replaced in the correct order. Every time I open that drawer it is in hopeful anticipation of additional photographs. I get the impression that they rather enjoyed taking pictures of themselves so I am not often disappointed and as Paul gets more able there is a greater variation in content. One new one showed Beth tossing him off and squirting his cum into her open mouth. I marvelled at far my wife was managing to go without actually breaking her promise not to give him a blow job. I decided right then that it was a pointless limitation to have placed on her and the next day released her from the promise, without revealing what had prompted my change of heart. My reward the very next week was to find three shots showing his prick in her mouth and in one I could hardly believe how Beth had managed to get the whole damn thing down her throat.

With Serena not now returning there is nothing to bring this situation to a natural end and I wonder how long we will go on like this. I worry more about what happens when it does end if Beth still has a sexual appetite that I am unable to satisfy. Sometimes I hanker after a normal marriage and regret the passing of the life that I knew but if you offered me a magic spell to set things back as they were, I doubt if I would use it.

Paul is getting fitter all the time and any time now I expect Beth to come and tell me that they have been 'fucking like dogs'.



The Athletic Club



Linda counted the reps in her head. Eight, nine, ten. The muscles in her thighs ached as she forced her legs apart one last time. Of all the machines in the athletic club, this was the one she hated the most. It wasn’t just the pain. She also felt a little self-conscious from the gazes of the passing men as she spread her legs against the weighted force of the leg machine.

She brought her legs together and felt the pain subside. She would do one more set of ten before moving to another piece of equipment, she promised herself.

Linda was a 34-year-old mother of one. She didn’t exercise because she HAD to. At 5’6” and 130 pounds, she was far from overweight. Linda just wanted to lose 5 pounds and get in better shape. The second looks she got from many of the guys at the club assured her she hadn’t yet completely lost her figure.

Plus, it got her out of the house. Her husband could spend one hour of “quality” time with their 8-year-old son. Between her job and her family, Linda could get pretty stressed. Some leg and abdominal exercises in combination with half an hour on the life cycle usually helped.

Linda wiped her face with a small towel. When she lifted it off her face, she noticed a woman climbing onto the leg curl machine next to her.

“That’s a hard one, isn’t it?” the woman said.

“Yeah. I’m getting too old for this,” Linda replied.

The other woman laughed. “Hardly. Anyway, you’re as old as you feel. If you keep yourself in shape, you’ll never get old.” With that, the woman smiled and began lifting a significant amount of weight with her right leg in steady, powerful motions.

Linda took the woman to be maybe 30 or 31. They were about the same height, but this woman had the body definition Linda was seeking. The shoulders and arms were muscular, but not masculine. Her breasts pressed firm against the sports bra. Her stomach and hips and legs were sculptured, but soft at the same time.

“Well, I do plan on getting older,” Linda sighed. “Just not flabbier.”

She started counting again. One, two, three…

Linda didn’t notice the woman watching her complete the last two reps. She buried her head in the towel once more and took a deep breath.

“Good job,” the woman said.

Linda thanked her. She caught herself looking at the woman’s facial features this time--the bright blue eyes, small nose and broad smile. Blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

“That’s enough of that. I’m getting on a bike,” Linda said. She slowly lifted her legs and slid off the machine. “See ya.”

“Bye,” the woman said, before returning to her leg lifts.

Linda sat on the exercise bike, alternating her glance from the TV monitor to the athletic blonde who had moved to the knee lift device. The woman’s legs, locked tightly together, lifted with ease from one side to the other. Her loose shorts rose high up her legs with each lift. Linda looked with envy at the woman’s firm thighs.

Linda looked away. “God. C’mon, Linda. I can’t believe you would actually think like that,” she said to herself. She watched the closed-captioning scroll across the bottom of the TV monitor. When she looked back down, the woman was gone.

Linda completed her half hour on the bike and headed for the shower. Afterwards, she wrapped a towel around her and headed back to her locker. At the end of the same row was the blonde, pulling off her shorts. Linda watched the woman’s bare breasts hang seductively and her round ass point toward the lockers. She felt embarrassed when the woman finally noticed Linda just a few feet away, looking intently at the near perfect naked body.

“Oh, hi,” the woman said. “All done for today?”

“Yeah. Time to go home and crash,” Linda said. She unwrapped the towel nervously and hastily reached for her sweatshirt.

The woman grabbed her own towel and starting walking toward Linda, scanning her with her eyes. Linda pulled the sweatshirt over her head and let it fall to her hips.

“I’ll see you later in the week, maybe,” the woman said.

“Sure.”

Linda watched her head for the showers, her bare ass swaying gracefully.

“I hope so,” Linda said to herself.

Two nights later, Linda was back on the bike, her mind occupied by a sitcom re-run on the TV. She had scanned the exercise area several times, looking for the blonde. But, without success. This was probably good, she told herself. She had thought too much about the woman’s face and body the last two days.

“May I?”

Linda jerked her head around in surprise. The missing blonde was mounting the bike next to her.

“Of course. Hi.” Linda wondered if she sounded as flustered as she felt.

The woman was programming the bike’s computer. Linda envied the expensive looking, matching tank top and shorts outfit the woman wore. Not to mention the way she filled it out.

When she was done, the woman looked across at Linda. “I don’t think I introduced myself before. I’m Beth.”

“Hi, Beth. I’m Linda.”

They exchanged smiles and glanced back up at the TV. “Good thing I don’t come in here for entertainment,” Beth said.

“I know,” Linda replied. “But it takes my mind off the boredom of this bike.”

“Absolutely. I like the individual machines better. They just don’t do the cardiovascular like this does.”

“You been doing this for a long time?” Linda asked.

“A couple years,” Beth said. “Closer I got to thirty the more scared I was that I’d lose it…whatever I had.”

Linda smiled back at her. In her mind, Linda was confirming that what Beth had was quite adequate. However, Beth was, in many ways, a very insecure woman. For the past ten years she alternated between dating men and women. When she got tired of the boorish, juvenile acts of men, she would go out with a female friend. When petty jealousy and small talk bored her, she’d date a man certain to mindlessly throw her on a bed and fuck her.

Two months ago she dated the ultimate boor.

“I don’t think you have to worry,” Linda was saying.

“Thanks. Plus, I have no life. This is my idea of going out sometimes.”

“You’re single?” Linda asked.

“Yes. Thank God.”

“Sometimes…,” Linda let the thought drop. She didn’t even know this woman. Why dump on her?

Beth looked across at Linda. The awkwardness was apparent in her expression. The large diamond and band on Linda’s finger had been evident from the first time Beth watched the other woman. Maybe a married woman would give her a new perspective.

They chatted more comfortably for another twenty minutes or so. At the end of her half hour, Linda thanked Beth for making the time go faster and headed for the locker room.

Once again, Beth was at a nearby locker when Linda emerged from the shower. Beth’s sweaty tank top clung tightly to her full chest, highlighting erect nipples.

“Can I ask you something?” Beth said sheepishly.

A confused look crossed Linda’s face. “Sure. What?”

“You don’t have to…I mean, if you can’t…Uh, would you like to come over some night and we can have a drink or something. When we’re not panting and sweating.”

Linda laughed. Then realized the seriousness with which Beth had asked the question.

“Uh, sure. Yes. I think I would.”

“Great.” Beth reached inside her locker and pulled out a small piece of paper. “Here’s my phone number. Call me whenever you want. If you don’t call, I’ll understand.”

Linda realized quickly that Beth had prepared for this in advance. She felt oddly flattered. “Oh, I’ll call. Thanks.”

By the time Beth was undressed and in the shower, Linda was on her way home. Maybe a new friendship would be a good thing. She wasn’t sure what she had in common with Beth, but she certainly was attractive and seemed to be fun to be around. Linda wondered to herself why the attractiveness of the cute blonde was always one of the first things she thought of. It was all a little scary.

It took three days for Linda to make the phone call. Arrangements were made for Linda to visit on a Friday night when her husband was taking their son to a movie. Beth promised to have pizza ready—veggie, of course—and Linda approved. Directions to Beth’s condo were given and both women said they were looking forward to it.

When she hung up, Linda exhaled as if she had been holding her breath for hours. “Did I sound anxious? Nervous?” Her mind was asking more questions than she could answer. She decided to just go, have a good time, and come home. No big deal.

Beth spent the next couple days working, exercising (without seeing Linda, unfortunately) and thinking about their “date.” She had friends over all the time. This should be no different. But it was. This was a relative stranger; married; with a kid; who almost certainly had never had a lesbian experience.

Could she be sure of that? Probably, Beth thought. She noticed how Linda scurried to get dressed in the locker room or wrapped the towel tightly around herself. There were no outward signs of physical attraction, except when she caught Linda looking at her in the locker room. Maybe that wasn’t what it seemed to be. Nevertheless, Beth thought often of Linda’s brown eyes, brunette hair and rounded features.

Friday finally arrived and Linda rushed home from work. After a fast meal and arguments with her son about clothes and face washing, she was alone. A quick shower left her standing naked in the bedroom, pulling on underwear and struggling with her own choice of wardrobes. She wasn’t sure why she fretted over what to wear to a friend’s condo for pizza, but she did. The obvious choice of jeans and a sweater won out.

Across town, Beth was having a much easier time. Her selection of “flirting” clothes was fairly limited. Tight jeans and a low cut, black pullover shirt would do just fine. Worked before, didn’t it? She smiled to herself in the mirror. Her blonde hair flowed over her ears and neck and lightly onto her shoulders. A couple inches of cleavage invited the eye down to bare nipples poking against the shirt.

Linda arrived fifteen minutes late, not wanting to appear all that overanxious. The two women made small talk while Beth showed her guest around the first floor of the condo. Ultimately, they ended up in the kitchen and Beth poured them glasses of wine. She had ordered a pizza just before Linda arrived and they went into the living room to sit and wait for it.

They discussed jobs, TV, music and men.

“Will you ever get married?” Linda asked.

Beth shrugged. “Who knows? I never lose any sleep over it.”

“Marriage is overrated, I think,” Linda said in a tone apparently designed to make Beth feel better. “Somebody must have the perfect marriage that you read about all the time. I don’t know anybody who does, though.”

“There’s too much pressure in marriage,” Beth said. “Sexual pressure. Financial pressure. Pressure about who your friends are.”

Linda nodded as she finished her drink.

“Did your husband question you about tonight?” Beth asked.

“Of course. But I can tell him the truth. That’s part of the trust. But he had to ask. He’s a man.”

“Sounds more like the nagging wife to me,” Beth said with a laugh.

“He’s OK.” Linda’s smile was genuine.

The doorbell indicated it was time to eat. They opened the pizza box on the floor and sat next to each other—eating, talking and drinking. More than once, Linda glanced in envy at the full breasts hanging loosely inside Beth’s shirt as she leaned over for more pizza.

Soon, they split the last two pieces. Beth placed her hands inside the bottom of her shirt and lifted it as she rubbed her stomach.

“That was great. But, I didn’t need it,” she said. Linda watched the hands slide over the woman’s smooth skin in a sensual display.

Beth lay back, letting the shirt rise even further. A shiny navel ring glistened in the soft light. Beth ran her forefinger over it a couple times, her eyes closed. Linda was mesmerized.

“I’ll put the box in the trash,” Linda said hastily. She had to do something besides stare at this woman’s sleek abdomen. She grabbed the empty pizza box and headed for the kitchen.

After finding the trash can and shoving the box inside, Linda started to turn. Instead, she felt two arms embrace her. She was startled at first, but a soft voice soon calmed her.

“Thanks for coming over Linda.” Beth’s hands met under Linda’s breasts, pressed firmly against her sweater.

“Thanks for inviting me,” Linda replied. How she mustered the air to speak, she didn’t know.

“When do you have to be home?” Beth asked quietly.

There was a pause. “I can’t stay too late.”

Beth’s hands inched their way down until reaching the bottom of the sweater. Slowly, they rose again until she felt the bare skin of Linda’s stomach. Linda’s heart raced, her throat constricted and her muscles tensed. Yet, the touch of the woman’s hands was magical.

Beth was silent. Her breath rushed past Linda’s ear, rustling the fine brown hair that hung over it.

“Can you come over again, some time?” Beth finally inquired.

The little fingers of both hands were inside the top of Linda’s jeans.

“I’d love to. I enjoyed it.” Linda’s head spun. She didn’t know whether to turn, remove Beth’s hands, or take off her jeans.

“Good. You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like.”

Linda turned. “Just a few more minutes, I guess. Then I really have to go.”

The two women stood inches apart. Tension was evident in their eyes. Sexual tension, drawing them closer still—until Linda moved forward and walked gingerly past her host.

They sat in the living room and talked for another half hour before Linda announced she had to go. Beth reluctantly said goodbye after they agreed once more to meet again soon.

Linda felt the adrenalin rush through her body on the drive home. She determined that, in fact, she really wanted to stay more than she was willing to admit. Beth made her feel welcome, and comfortable, and…something she couldn’t put a handle on. In bed that night she ran her fingers over her stomach, trying to duplicate the feel of Beth’s hands.

The two women met each other several times at the athletic club over the next week and a half. Beth had decided not to push Linda on the issue of their next meeting, so it was with great surprise and satisfaction that Linda asked one day if Beth would be free the following Saturday night.

“Sure. Do you want to go anywhere…a movie?” Beth asked.

“How about if we just stay at your place? I’ll bring the refreshments this time,” Linda volunteered.

“OK. If you want. That would be great.”

“I have this creamy dessert stuff that is awesome,” Linda said with a smile.

Beth said, “I’ve never turned down a dessert. I can’t wait.”

This time Linda chose to wear a more revealing, sleeveless blouse with a wide-open neckline. Without a bra on it was about the most erotic she ever felt. She tucked the blouse inside designer jeans and looked in the mirror. Her nipples pressed against the thin material. The tops of her breasts were barely visible alongside the top button.

“Well, here goes,” she said to herself. Linda wasn’t sure what she expected, but one of the things she liked about Beth was her spontaneity. Spontaneous sex wasn’t to be ruled out, she assumed.

Beth was brushing her hair one last time when the doorbell rang. She walked quickly to the door and welcomed in her guest.

“Wow. You look great in that blouse, Linda,” Beth said while taking the dish holding the dessert from Linda.

“Thanks. Can I help with anything?” They were walking toward the kitchen, with Linda watching Beth’s ass sway with each step. The tight jeans rode low on Beth’s hips and a simple white t-shirt was tucked inside.

“Nope. There’s really nothing to do,” Beth said. She smiled back at Linda. “What’s in here?”

Beth was pulling the lid off the plastic container. Inside was a layer of white cream with a half dozen strawberries lying on top.

“Oh, wow. What’s underneath?”

“A filling made with Jello and Cool Whip and more fruit,” Linda explained.

“Yummy,” Beth said. “Can we have some now?”

“Of course. That’s why I brought it,” Linda said with a smile.

Beth sliced big pieces of the scrumptious looking delight and placed them on dishes. With forks in hand, the women walked back into the living room.

They sat on the couch, talking and eating. There was more talking than eating as the women discussed new events in their lives since the previous meeting. As usual, the athletic club came up several times during the discussion, with appropriate laughter over the fact they were eating dessert at the same time.

Beth continually found herself sneaking a quick look at the opening in Linda’s blouse. It was apparent the woman wasn’t wearing a bra. Was this normal? One thing the two had not talked about much was clothing. Neither considered it a major part of their existence, it seemed. Whatever the case, Beth found it erotic and very tempting. Very tempting, indeed.

Linda watched Beth’s body language. She had become interested in the subject during a seminar her company recently made her attend. Sometimes, it worked in reverse. She found herself more self-conscious of her own body language than what she gathered from the other person’s.

For instance, she remembers thinking back about how she acted around Beth in the locker room. How nervous she must have seemed. How uncomfortable she must have appeared, despite her pleasure in watching Beth dress and undress.

Now she watched Beth curl her legs under herself on the couch, her head tilting to the side when she listened. Occasionally, fingers played with the ends of her blonde hair. All signs of placated reassurance.

Beth worked her way through the dessert, leaving a small amount on her dish. The time had come for her to test the level of Linda’s acceptance of her. The evening would either end abruptly or transcend to a new intensity.

Beth placed her plate next to Linda’s on the coffee table in front of the couch. In doing so, she shifted herself closer to Linda.

“This is marvelous dessert, Linda,” she said.

“Thanks. It’s real easy to make.”

Beth used her finger to scrape a small amount of the creamy topping off the plate. Leisurely, she brought the finger to her mouth and licked off the white topping. Then she put her mouth around the end of the finger and licked some more. Her eyes never left Linda. Linda’s eyes never left the finger.

Linda tried to swallow. Beth reached back to the plate and took another swipe of topping. She leaned forward and offered it to her guest. The finger entered Linda’s mouth and was immediately engulfed by the waiting lips. Linda’s tongue cleaned the sweet cream from the finger in quick strokes.

The women were staring at each other intently. No smiles. No blinking. The room was silent, yet teeming with emotion.

Beth pulled her finger out and reached for the plate one more time. Linda’s already overworked mind tried to predict what was coming next. Not in her wildest dreams could she have imagined.

Beth moved forward and, with her empty hand, unbuttoned the top button of Linda’s blouse. Linda did not react. Beth pushed open the blouse slightly and spread the cream on her right forefinger over the exposed breast. Without hesitation, Beth placed her mouth over the breast and began to lick off the cream.

She heard Linda take in a breath. The body moved back, then forward again. Then it was still.

When the last of the cream was licked clean, Beth proceeded down the breast, pushing the blouse farther open. One more button was opened. Finally, she reached the nipple. Lightly at first, she ran her tongue over it. Then her mouth closed around it.

This time Linda sighed audibly. Beth’s tongue flicked over the nipple and the surrounding skin. There was no reason for Linda to find this any different than when her husband did the same thing. But, it was.

Beth used both hands to unbutton the blouse while continuing to suck on Linda’s left breast. When she reached the top of Linda’s jeans, she tugged the blouse out and finished the job.




The Athletic Club



With increased vigor, she slid her hands inside the blouse and wrapped her fingers around both breasts. Linda felt the fingers press against her skin, squeezing around her breasts. Combined with the amazing sensation of the woman’s tongue on her nipple, she was starting to get exceedingly aroused.

Beth switched breasts. She tried to lift the blouse out of the jeans entirely. Before she succeeded, Linda completed the task for her. Beth’s hands roamed freely over Linda’s chest and stomach and sides and back. Everywhere she touched sent chills through the other woman.

Beth worked her hands up to Linda’s shoulders and pushed the blouse down her arms. She waited for Linda to balk. Instead, the blouse slid down the arms, over her hands and onto the couch. Beth pushed it onto the floor.

Gently, Beth pressed against Linda’s chest. Linda leaned back and placed her head on the arm of the couch. They looked at each other briefly. Not wanting to give her guest any time to reconsider, Beth placed herself between Linda’s outstretched legs and lay on top of her.

She placed her mouth around one of Linda’s breasts and frantically licked and sucked it. Linda felt it clear down to her vagina. A growing wetness confirmed her yearning for more.

Linda put her hand on the back of Beth’s head and pressed it down. No words could have pleased Beth as much. Linda was her’s.

After another minute of enjoying the soft flesh of Linda’s breast in her mouth, Beth lifted herself until she sat upright on her knees. Then she pulled off her t-shirt, revealing large, round breasts with light brown nipples. Beth ran her fingers over them before lowering herself again. The breasts hovered above Linda’s head momentarily. Before Linda could pull Beth toward her, she found one of the breasts touching her lips.

Eagerly, Linda accepted the nipple and surrounding breast into her mouth. One hand kneaded the breast as her tongue began lapping at the erect tip. Soon, her other hand found the second breast. She pulled them together and alternated licking and sucking on each one.

Beth allowed the woman’s mouth to assault her for a moment before sliding back. Slowly, she put her lips on Linda’s. A soft kiss followed. Then her tongue traced around Linda’s mouth. Instantly, their mouths were open and their tongues were exploring each other.

With their breasts tightly compressed together, the women kissed and hugged. Linda’s arms ran up and down Beth’s bare back. She felt the smooth ripple of muscles on Beth’s shoulders. Then, to her own surprise, she found her hands at the base of Beth’s back, sliding inside the woman’s jeans.

When she felt the top of a pair of panties, her hands stopped. What was she doing? Why did she want to feel the woman’s ass so badly? Why was the woman’s tongue making her entire body shake?

Beth slid farther down Linda’s body. Past her neck and breasts. Her tongue followed a path past her stomach to the top of her jeans. With great agility, Beth unbuttoned Linda’s jeans and pulled down the zipper. A pair of white panties appeared. Beth’s fingers traced around the top of them and then down the open zipper. Linda closed her eyes as the fingers moved down.

Beth reached behind her and felt for Linda’s feet. She held the ankles, then pulled off Linda’s shoes, letting them fall to the floor with a thud.

Her hands came forward again to grasp the top of Linda’s jeans. Little by little, she inched them lower until nothing but the white panties covered Linda’s hips and ass.

“Lift your legs,” Beth said softly.

Linda stretched her legs upward next to Beth. The jeans were pulled up and, when Linda bent her legs again at the knees, completely off. Naked now except for her cotton panties, Linda felt a shiver that was not caused entirely by the cool air.

Beth ran her hands up the outside of Linda’s thighs. The skin was warm and soft and smooth. She moved her fingers to the inside of the thighs. The legs were parted just enough for Beth to kneel between them. When her hands reached the bottom of the panties, they parted a bit more.

Using her palms, Beth felt the softness of the panties on Linda’s waist. She took a second before moving one hand back between the other woman’s legs. Beth felt the warmth emanating from Linda’s pussy immediately. A second later she felt the wetness. Her fingers pressed against it.

Linda sighed. Her eyes were closed; her mouth open as if searching again for a nipple to suck. The harder Beth pressed against her pussy the harder Linda forced herself onto Beth’s hand.

Finally, Beth took the top of the panties and pulled them down. A neatly shaven patch of light brown hair covered the area below Linda’s clit. Beth dragged the panties over the woman’s knees and ankles and feet. She let them fall to the floor along with the rest of Linda’s clothes.

Beth took a second to admire the nude body lying under her. Linda’s thighs were firm and inviting; her hips full; her breasts heaving with each rapid breath.

But her eyes came back to that patch of hair and the folds of skin leading from the clit to the vagina. Beth put her hands under Linda’s ass and leaned forward. Linda spread her legs without hesitation.

Beth began to lift Linda’s body to her face, but Linda needed no urging. Her hips rose voluntarily from the couch and gladly met her friend’s extended tongue. The instant they met, Linda flinched. Then the tongue slid up and contacted her swollen clit.

“Oh, God. Beth,” Linda managed to murmur.

Beth licked the clit with long, wet strokes. Harder and harder, until her lips closed around it.

“Ahhh, yes. Yes.”

Linda’s hands once again forced Beth’s head down onto her body. In return, Beth raised her arms and felt for the erect nipples of Linda’s breasts. The combined sensations hit Linda like lightning.

Beth squeezed the nipples tightly and sucked on the clit with greater passion. Her tongue flicked across it several times, resulting in a series of jerks from the woman under her. Beth massaged the ass in her hands, pulling it up at the same time.

Linda’s body began to quiver. She held her breath and felt the muscles in her legs tighten. An orgasm started deep inside the pit of her stomach and rushed through her cunt.

“God. Yes. Beth, I’m cumming. I’m cumming.”

She moaned loudly, arching her back off the couch. She fell back down as the first wave exploded. Then she was rising again. And again. She was trying to fuck Beth’s mouth. Frantically groaning with each thrust, she was lost in a series of non-stop orgasms.

Beth tried her best to hang on. She used to tongue to lap at whatever she could find. Sometimes she was at the entrance to Linda’s cunt, other times on the clit. When she could sustain a few seconds of action on the clit alone, Linda started a new orgasm. This went on for what seemed like an eternity.

In reality, Linda was lost in the midst of multiple orgasms over about ninety seconds—the best ninety seconds of her life.

“Stop. Beth, please. Stop,” Linda pleaded. She backed away from Beth’s probing tongue, despite the woman’s efforts to hold her in place.

Exhausted, Linda lay on the couch again, letting Beth rest her head on her breasts. Beth’s jeans felt strangely soft and warm against Linda’s bare legs. Soon, she would want the jeans off the woman. She knew it…and accepted it.

Rather than wait, Beth acted on her own. She rolled off the couch and stood, facing Linda. She kicked off her shoes and unbuttoned the jeans. Beth pushed the jeans down her hips until they fell to the floor. Without reaching down, she stepped out of them, never taking her eyes off Linda’s face. Next came the panties, a pair of small thongs that did little to hide her pussy.

Linda looked on with keen interest. Yes, she had seen the woman in the athletic club locker room. But, never like this. Never with the knowledge that the body would soon be her’s to play with.

Beth was naked. Her fingers traced the outline of her pussy, then her navel, and finally her breasts. When she moved back onto the couch and lingered over Linda’s body, it made Linda desperately lustful. Beth loved the flirting aspect of lovemaking, but tonight she was too horny to prolong it.

She scooted forward and placed her pussy directly over Linda’s face. Linda grabbed the woman’s ass and pulled the body closer. Within seconds, Linda’s tongue was working on the opening to Beth’s vagina. Sweet juices met her tongue and lips. Linda pushed her tongue inside the woman. A moan from above signaled approval.

“My clit, hon. Lick my clit,” Beth was saying.

Linda immediately obeyed. Beth played with her own nipples roughly as the tongue found her engorged clit. Linda sucked it with her lips and stroked it with her tongue. The few times she had taken her husband in her mouth were never as exhilarating as this. She didn’t want to stop.

Beth’s orgasm struck quickly and without warning. Suddenly, she was crying for Linda to lick her harder. Her moans grew more intense and Linda felt Beth’s juices flow off her tongue. Beth shrieked as another orgasm poured through her.

“Don’t stop. God, Linda, don’t stop.”

Linda wasn’t about to. Her mouth was everywhere on Beth’s pussy. She tasted the juice flowing from Beth’s cunt and spread it clear up to her clit. A few more muffled screams from Beth and the orgasms subsided.

Beth collapsed on top of Linda, rolling onto her side so her head rested on Linda’s shoulder. They held each other tightly and caught their breath.

“God, Linda. That was awesome,” Beth sighed.

“Thank you. You made me feel wonderful.” Linda stroked Beth’s fine blonde hair.

“I’ve wanted you since I first met you. I hope you aren’t mad at me,” Beth said.

“Mad? I loved it. I hope it wasn’t the last time.”

“You’re welcome any time.” Beth was tracing circles around Linda’s breasts.

They lay on the couch for the rest of the evening before Linda said she had to go. They dressed and kissed once more. It wouldn’t be the last time.