by Ben Boswell
Go on ahead. He’s going to walk me to a cab. Meet me at Mateo’s.
That was one of our favorite places, a little tapas joint by our house. I started to text back, but noticed that she’d already put away her phone and was talking to him again. He nodded toward the door, and she started in that direction with him resting his hand on her shoulder as they fought through the crowd.
I hadn’t planned ahead. I still had to settle my tab. By the time I did, they were long gone. I couldn’t see them outside, though with the crowd and gathering dusk, that wasn’t too surprising anyway. Still, it was hard to put out of my mind the image of the two of them leaving the bar together.
I got my car out of the garage and drove quickly to Mateo’s, but I was easily fifteen minutes behind her. I expected to find her at the bar. But she wasn’t there. I peered into the dining room. Not there either. I asked the hostess. No, they hadn’t seen her.
I sat at the bar and ordered a shot, and sent her a text.
Hey babe, where are you?
Then I stared at the phone as if trying to will a response. One minute passed. Then five. I ordered another shot. Ten minutes. Fifteen.
Jesus. There was no other explanation, was there? She was obviously with him. Fucking him. Sucking his cock. Spreading her legs for him as his pounded her roughly. She was wearing her engagement ring and wedding band. He would know she was married. I imagined it turned him on, knowing he was having another man’s woman.
Am I better that he is?
Oh yes, Chucky. Oh God yes. No one fucks me as good as you.
Her big tits jiggling. Her toes curled. Her stomach muscles rippling as he made her come again and again.
“Hey honey.” She kissed me on the cheek and sat on the stool beside me. Her hand slipped into my lap, groping my erection. “Thinking of me?” she said with a grin.
“Where’ve you been?” I replied hoarsely.
She laughed. “I forgot my purse. I didn’t have money for the cab.”
“What’d you do?”
“What could I do? I had to blow the driver. You wouldn’t believe how much he came.”
I looked at her shocked. “You didn’t!” But the image was already in my mind. Both of them in the backseat, her dress pulled down to show off her tits, her red lips wrapped around his fat tool.
She laughed. “No, of course not. But I had to stop by the house to pick up my purse, then stop at the ATM to get some money. God, Bill, you really are losing it.”
“So that’s all?”
She nodded. “I could make up a story for you, but I’m afraid you’d ruin your suit, and anyway, I’d like to be able to move over to a table. I’m starved.”
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We settled in at a little two-top in the corner of the room.
“So what happened with Chucky?” I asked after we’d ordered some small plates and a bottle of wine.
She shrugged. “Nothing that exciting. Just the usual catching up. How’re you doing? Still living on the North Side? That kind of stuff.”
“You seemed to be having a lot of fun for a conversation so banal.”
“Chucky was always a good talker. He’s funny. Lively. He talked about his job. Asked if I still saw some of the old gang. You know, that kind of stuff.”
“So, no flirting?”
“Oh, it was all flirting. But nothing really overt. He commented you were a lucky man. Said he missed me.”
“Did you flirt back?”
“Of course. Wasn’t that the idea? I asked why no woman had snatched him up yet. He reminded me I’d had my chance. Just silly stuff.”
We both sat silent for a moment.
“I saw him touch your thigh,” I said suddenly.
She laughed. “My, you were watching closely. Did you also see me move his hand away?”
“Not right away, you didn’t.”
She grinned. “No, I guess not. I gave him a few seconds. Did you see him rubbing my back?”
“Yes,” I replied, nodding.
“And did that make you jealous or excited?”
“Both,” I admitted.
“Should I have let him continue to rub my thigh?”
“Are you wearing panties?”
She laughed. “Would that make a difference? I am, but they’re really small. They wouldn’t have gotten in the way at all.”
I groaned.
“You didn’t answer. Should I have let him rub my thigh longer?”
“I dunno,” I replied finally, dully.
She nodded. “That...that answer says a lot.”
“Does it?”
“Well, yeah, I mean, I think most men would answer without hesitation.”
“Maybe.”
She shook her head. “No maybes about it. We’re no longer in realm of old war stories and fantasies. We’re talking about a real life, flesh and blood, man fondling your wife.”
“I know. I can’t explain it.” I paused for a moment. “And what about you? Did you want him to continue rubbing your thigh?”
“If I’d known you could see it, I might have let him have a little more time, given him a chance to explore past the hem of my dress.”
“How far?”
“I dunno,” she replied mirroring my earlier tone.
With perfect timing, her phone suddenly vibrated with an incoming text. She looked at it, shook her head and smiled.
“So now what?” she said, handing it to me.
I looked at the message. It was from Chucky. Short and direct.
Hey, Ter, it was great seeing you tonight. Sorry I had to run so soon. Love to catch up more. Drinks, maybe an early dinner next week?
“I thought you told him you were married,” I said.
She laughed again. “That’s not the sort of thing to deter Chucky.”
“Why an early dinner?”
She raised an eyebrow. “I dunno. Seems less threatening, maybe? Or maybe it hints at some post-dinner activities?”
I didn’t say anything.
She continued, “Why are you avoiding the issue? He just asked me out on a date. What do you think I should I say to him?”
“What do you want to say?”
She shook her head and clicked her tongue. “Naw uh, mister. You go first.”
“I can’t. I mean, it’s not like I’m the boss of you.”
“Oh, I’m not saying I’ll do what you suggest, one way or the other.”
“What’s that mean? If I told you to say no, you might still go out with him?”
She grinned. “No options are off the table.”
I chuckled. She was busting my chops. I knew she’d never go if I asked her not to, but she was playing it coy. Having fun. It encouraged me to keep going.
“So the question is: should I encourage my wife to go out on a date with another man?”
She held up her hand. “Remember what I told you. I’m not going to lead him on.”
“Does that mean you would sleep with him?”
“Well, not necessarily. He could blow it by being rude or obnoxious or something. But I don’t want to play games. We’re not naive. We’re not kids. We know what he’s thinking. And he knows I know. So saying yes means saying yes not just to the invitation, but to the expectations.”
“What if you’re wrong? What if his motives are pure?”
She laughed. “Very clever. A convenient out. We don’t really know what he wants, do we?”
I shook my head. “No we don’t.”
“Fair enough. I won’t go out of my way to seduce him. If he does just want to catch up, then we’ll just catch up and go our separate ways. But if he wants more and he’s a gentleman about it... well, let’s just say I won’t push his hand away when it’s sliding up my thigh.”
I looked at Terri. God, she was so beautiful, her face just glowing. She was amused. Definitely turned on by the conversation. As was I. The sexual tension was thick in the air. I didn’t want it to end. Didn’t want this feeling to fade.
&
nbsp; I liked the idea of her flirting with Chucky, of the danger, the risk, the vitality this brought to our relationship. And surely she was overstating the expectations. Sometimes a dinner is just a dinner. Anyway, I didn’t think she’d ultimately sleep with him. She liked the tension as much as I did, and her warnings were just a way to inject a frisson of excitement into the situation.
But what if they weren’t? What if she meant what she said? What if he was his usual funny, charming self? And what if, after dinner, he invited her up to his place for a “nightcap?”
Images flooded my mind. Terri and Chucky walking unsteadily back toward his apartment, his hand resting comfortably in the small of her back. The two of them in an elevator, making out as he rubbed her breasts. In his stylish condo, Terri perched on the dining room table, Chucky standing between her spread legs, pulling down her dress, sucking on her tits. Terri nude, on her knees, eagerly slavering over his erect cock. The two of them in bed, her legs over his shoulders as he pounded her pussy mercilessly.
Terri interrupted my daydream. “I think you’re drooling.”
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. Not drooling, but definitely moisture in the corners of my mouth.
“So?” She tapped her phone, her lips curled in a suggestive smile. “What should I say to him?”
“I think you’re exaggerating his expectations. I see nothing wrong with you have a meal with an old boyfriend.”
“Fuck buddy,” she corrected.
“Po-tay-toe po-tah-toe.”
“And what if he does want more?”
“I trust your judgment.”
“And what if I judge that I want to have sex with him? Not just because I think it’ll turn you on, but also because I’ll enjoy it?”
“I can live with that,” I replied as calmly as I could, though my heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might burst from my chest.
“Really?”
“Really.”
She shook her head and laughed. “You’ve gone crazy. You know that?”
“Maybe,” I replied. “But all I know is that right now all I can think of is getting you home.”
“Is that so?” She grinned lewdly.
“Yes,” I said. When I stood, I had to hold my suit jacket in front of me to hide my full erection.
“Okay, but I need to do something first.”
She unlocked her cell phone and began typing, reading aloud as she did.
“Chucky, yeah, definitely. Sounds like fun. 6:00 Friday? Tell me where.”
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The next four hours were a blur. In the car, I reached over and ran my fingers up her thigh, over the same spot of skin Chucky had tickled just a few hours earlier. She didn’t push my hand away though, and I slid farther up her dress until I reached a point where her thighs turned hot and damp.
She was right, the panties didn’t get in the way. I slid a finger beneath the fabric, found her wet slit, rubbed her clit briskly. This was not a night for subtlety. She came hard, writhing in the passenger seat.
We got home. She dropped to her knees and pulled me close. But instead, I picked her up, kissed her hard, carried her up the stairs, her legs wrapped around my waist. I deposited her on the bed, pulled her legs apart, pushed aside her soaked panties and licked her pussy sloppily.
She gasped and thrashed, tried to push me away, but then came again, violently, bucking up and down.
“No more, no more,” she begged as I attacked her twat again.
She was so wet. Her pussy tasted like nectar. I sucked her clit into my mouth. It was hard, swollen. My tongue flicked at the hood. She was gasping, grunting, wheezing. She came again and went limp.
I wrenched down my pants, freed my hard cock, launched myself between her slick thighs. We were both fully dressed. I entered her, hard, but she was so wet it didn’t matter. We kissed wetly, sucking tongues as I humped her wildly—more like a horny teenager than a loving husband in his 30s. I lasted maybe 30 seconds until I came and collapsed onto her, both of us breathing hard, sweating, still kissing passionately.
We showered together. She sucked me hard. I took her from behind, pressed up against the tile, my hands mauling her tits, her head turned, kissing me sloppily over her shoulder. She came again, and fell to her knees, and stroked my cock roughly until I came on her tits.
Cleaned up, we stumbled into bed. We kissed. Long, slow, passionate kisses. Endlessly, our hands exploring each other’s bodies. When my erection finally returned, she pushed me onto my back and climbed aboard. She rode me slowly, passionately, her hands on my stomach, mine on her breasts. Her eyes were closed, her head back. I crunched upward, sucked on her throat. She came hard and collapsed on me. I thrust upward, but I was too tired—too spent—to come. Instead, we fell asleep like that: naked, locked in a lovemaking embrace.
CHAPTER 7:
CULMINATION
I had set the alarm, so this time we were awake when my parents brought the kids home. We played at being normal, but each time Terri and I made eye contact, we burst into giggles.
That was the pattern for the week, at least until Wednesday when the reality of Terri’s upcoming date began to loom larger.
I could sense her growing apprehension. It matched my own. Yet I was still in thrall to that wild cocktail of lust, jealousy, humiliation, and excitement that had defined my emotional life since Terri had made her first admissions about Chucky. And while she was increasingly anxious, she also seemed determined that I would need to be the one to pull the plug. I was too paralyzed by conflicting passions to do anything.
We didn’t have sex Thursday, for the first time in a couple of weeks. Terri kept looking at me expectantly. But I never said anything.
--------
Friday morning, I showered, dressed for work. Terri was giving the kids breakfast before taking them to school. I grabbed a banana and filled my thermos with coffee.
I kissed the kids. Gave Terri a chaste hug goodbye.
She seized my forearm, looked me in the eye.
“Remember, you have the kids this afternoon...and remember, I’ll be home late.”
I forced a smile. “Got it. Have fun.”
She gave me an incredulous look. Then she shrugged and smiled. “Okay, I guess I will.”
--------
It’s weird, but I didn’t have much time to think about it during the day. Work was a series of crises. Once I picked up the kids, it was whirlwind of activity as well—games, dinner, reading, settling them down.
When I finally collapsed onto the sofa with a bottle of beer, it was 7:45pm. She’d been with him for almost two hours now, but they could easily still be at dinner. They probably were, actually, Terri enjoying the game, gathering up flirty exchanges with which to tease me later.
I pulled out my phone and prepared to send her a text, letting her off the hook, asking her to come home. I hesitated for moment, feeling my emotions churning as I considered the possibility of doing nothing, of letting things play out. Would she really have sex with him? It seemed unthinkable, sickening, and yet so hot. I laughed to myself. I was going crazy.
Just as I selected her name from my favorites list, my phone vibrated in my hands. A text from Terri.
On my way. There soon.
I was relieved. A little disappointed. But mostly relieved. And I was also turned on. My wife had been on a date with another man. They’d surely flirted. He’d probably rubbed her shoulders, her back. Had she let him slide his hand further up her thigh? Probably. I could feel myself getting hard. I decided to move to the bedroom, stripped to a bathrobe, to wait for her.
The wait seemed interminable, but it was less than fifteen minutes. I heard the door open downstairs. I heard her start up the stairs, check on the kids, and then she was in the bedroom.
In her stocking feet, she always looks so small, but for some reason tonight she seemed even more delicate. She was wearing a sexy wrap dress, but in a weird way, she looked like a little girl playing dress-up. I
smiled at her. Her smile back seemed forced. Was she worried that she had disappointed me by ending the date early?
“It’s okay baby, I’m glad you didn’t...”
I saw the corners of her mouth drop. Then I noticed her hair, damp and lank. Had she been caught in some rain? Then I understood.
“You just showered.” Part statement. Part question.
She nodded. “I wasn’t sure you wanted to smell him on me.”
“So, you did it?”
“Yes. I thought that was what you wanted,” she said.
“Oh God.”
She slapped her sides in frustration. “Fuck, I knew this was a bad idea.”
She looked close to tears.
I was reeling. I felt sick to my stomach. I forced myself to breath, trying to keep my stomach under control. Her eyes watered up.
“It’s okay. Jeez, Terri, it’s okay. I did... It was my idea.”
She choked back a sob.
“Did you enjoy it?” I asked.
She hesitated.
“It’s okay. Tell me the truth.”
She still hesitated. Then a deep breath. Finally, she replied in a soft voice. “Yes.”
“Take off your clothes.” I didn’t even know why, but I needed to see her naked.
“Bill...”
“Please.”
She nodded. We were in weird, uncharted territory. It was obvious that she didn’t know how to react, and for my part, I was acting purely on impulse.
She reached down and untied the sash on her dress. She pulled it open and let it fall to the floor. She was naked beneath.
“Did you go out like that?” I gasped.
“Yes,” she replied a bit more confidently now.
Terri’s skin is so pale that it shows any mark. I realized now what I was looking for: physical signs that this wasn’t just a tale, a tease.
I reached out my hand and beckoned her toward me. It wasn’t obvious, but I could tell. Her breasts were a little blotchy, not bruised, but looked well handled, her nipples puffy and darker than normal. There were also streaks of red on her hips and thighs.
