His Secret Sins

by Henri Couesnon

Yeah, I missed you, all right, Marc wanted to say, sarcastically. I missed you so much that I can’t wait until you go out of town again, so I can get some more cock.

  But maybe, if I play my cards right—if I’m careful—I won’t have to wait. I may be able to play around behind her back, without her ever suspecting a thing.

  Until such an opportunity presented itself, though, he was going to have to go on performing his marital duty. And so, as he continued to plow his wife’s pussy, he gritted his teeth and concentrated on the fuck. It was just another household chore, really. And so, the sooner he got it over and done with, the better.

  Chapter Four: The Observant Neighbor

  Ghislaine and Marc were having breakfast on Monday morning.

  “Don’t forget our dinner party, on Thursday night,” Ghislaine said.

  “I won’t. Can I do anything to help?”

  “Of course not. The caterers will do the cooking and the serving, as usual. I’ve ordered the flowers, for the table. Everything’s under control. All I need you to do is sit at your end of the table looking handsome and acting charming. Oh, and I’ve invited the Dumonts.”

  “Who?”

  “The Dumonts. Renaud and Marie. Our next door neighbors, for heaven’s sake.”

  “Oh. I’d forgotten their last name,” Marc admitted. “We really don’t know them very well.”

  “No, we don’t. I feel guilty about that. They had us over for drinks when they first moved in, and we’ve never reciprocated. This will give us a chance to make up for that, and to get to know them better.”

  “The wife is kind of a mousy little thing, isn’t she?” Marc remarked. “Maybe you ought to take her in hand and give her some tips about clothes and hairstyles and makeup.”

  “That’s not such a bad idea, in all seriousness. And Renaud—he seems rather shy and bookish. You could help him to come out of his shell.”

  Marc laughed. “Yes, as trendsetters, it’s our responsibility to help the socially and the stylistically impaired.”

  “Just be nice to them,” Ghislaine urged her husband.

  “What else?” he protested.

  Marc always thought of his wife’s dinner parties as a performance. The stage would be set. He and Ghislaine would put on their costumes. Their guests would arrived and make up the audience. Marc and Ghislaine always entertained them with wine and liquor, a lavish meal, and lively conversation. Eventually, the curtain came down, the audience went home, and the theater was darkened. The actors retired to their dressing room, congratulating themselves on a job well done.

  On this occasion, at least, Marc could distract himself by studying their neighbors, the Dumonts. Marie Dumont was pretty but pale, and not particularly extroverted or glamorous. Ghislaine, like the experienced and resourceful hostess she was, encouraged Marie to join in the conversation, and even to talk about herself—a major coup, Marc suspected. By the time they sat down to dinner, Marie was positively animated.

  Her husband, Renaud, was a blandly good-looking young man, fair of complexion, and with ginger-colored hair. He smiled a lot, but he, too, had to be coaxed out of his reticence and encouraged to talk about himself. Marc assigned himself this task, and his efforts seemed to be successful.

  The Dumonts, like the Remys, had no children.

  No wonder, Marc told himself, cynically. He’s not exactly a stud. And she seems a bit delicate, even fragile. One good orgasm would probably kill her! Something tells me he does more than his share of beating off. I know a frustrated guy, when I see one.

  After dinner, the guests circulated freely throughout the house. Marc found himself alone with Renaud in the kitchen. He refreshed Renaud’s drink.

  “I have a shameful secret,” Renaud said.

  “Do tell.”

  “I smoke. I’m dying for a cigarette, but I wouldn’t dream of lighting up anywhere in here. Do you mind if I slip outside for a few minutes?”

  “Not at all. In fact, I’ll come with you, and keep you company.”

  The two men went outside, where they strolled back and forth in the small garden, while Renaud smoked.

  “It’s a nice party,” he told his host. “I know Marie is enjoying herself. Your wife obviously enjoys entertaining.”

  “It’s her vocation in life,” Marc said, drily. “That, and shopping.”

  “Ghislaine seems to go out of town a great deal,” Renaud remarked.

  “Does she? Yes, I suppose she does. You see—she has so many friends who live in other cities, and they all like to have house parties, and entertain visitors from out of town—for a weekend, or longer. I can’t always go with her, of course, because of my work.”

  “Of course. But you seem to have a lot of friends, too.”

  “Do I?”

  “Well, I only say that because … every time Ghislaine goes out of town … you seem to have your men friends, dropping in.”

  Instantly, an alert went off, inside Marc’s head.

  “Some of them are guys I work with,” he said—which wasn’t true. The only times he ever invited his colleagues to the house was when Ghislaine gave a party and included them on the guest list.

  “Sure.”

  “You’re very observant, Renaud. It’s odd. In all the time you and I have lived next door to each other, I’ve never gone out of my way to keep track of the comings and goings at your house.”

  Renaud was embarrassed. “I’m sorry. It’s not as though I’ve been spying on you, Marc, for God’s sake. But naturally, when I’m home, I do look out the windows—and I do notice certain things.”

  “My friends keep me company, when Ghislaine is away.”

  “Which is very thoughtful of them. All I’m saying—in my clumsy way—is that maybe you’ve thought I’ve been rather standoffish, Marc. Of course, my work keeps me busy, just as yours does. But we are neighbors. I’m always thought you and I should get to know each other better.”

  “That’s occurred to me, too. I have an idea,” Marc suggested. “The next time Ghislaine goes on one of her trips—why don’t you come over, so we can spend some guy time together?”

  “I’d like that.”

  “Your wife won’t mind?”

  “Of course not.”

  “It’s a date, then. A man date,” Marc added, flippantly. “Just us two guys—hanging out together.”

  Renaud had finished his cigarette. They went back indoors.

  Throughout the rest of the evening, Marc continued to play to perfection his role of smiling, considerate host. Inside, though, he was in turmoil.

  Without being at all obvious about it, he kept scrutinizing Renaud, wondering exactly how much his neighbor had observed—and what conclusions he’d drawn as a result of what he’d seen.

  Shit! Marc told himself, feverishly. The son of a bitch is on to me! He suspects … he suspects what I’ve been up to, while Ghislaine’s away. God damn!

  Maybe he’s smart enough to keep his mouth shut. He’d better, if he knows what’s good for him.

  It’s funny, though. Tonight, for the first time, I got sort of a gay vibe from him. I never felt anything like that with him before. It’s almost as though he’s got a crush on me … as though he’s jealous of my other “friends.” Of all the guys I’ve been fucking around with!

  Maybe he wishes he was one of them—?

  Could he be bi, too? If there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that just about everybody is potentially bi, given the right circumstances. And some are a lot more susceptible than others!

  He is kind of cute. I could do worse. If I have to put out for him to keep him quiet—hell, why not? It might be fun. And a mutually beneficial arrangement.

  But we’d have to be awfully damn careful. We’d have to make sure neither of our wives suspects anything!

  Another juggling act—!

  The guests began taking their leave, in pairs. Marc and Ghislaine escorted Renaud and Marie to the door.

  “Guess what?” Ghislaine said, brightly. �
�I’m going to take Marie somewhere nice for lunch on Saturday. And then we’re going to spend the afternoon shopping.”

  Marc smiled. “That strange twinge you feel, Renaud, is your bank account tensing up in self-defense, in anticipation of having its balance reduced, dramatically.”

  “Oh, don’t exaggerate, Marc!” Ghislaine protested. “I know where to find the best deals. I’m going to show Marie how to save money, in the long run. Anyway, you husbands will be left to your own devices.”

  “We’ll find some way to amuse ourselves—preferably without going into debt,” Marc said, smoothly. “As a matter of fact, Renaud and I were talking about getting together, soon. Why don’t we do it on Saturday? You can come over here, Renaud, and we’ll hang out while the girls are out doing their thing.”

  Renaud positively beamed. “I’d like that, Marc.”

  Yeah, I bet you would, Marc thought, rather sourly. I seem to have made a conquest, all right! Just what I don’t need—a frigging bromance with my next door neighbor! It’ll give me a chance to sound out the guy, though … and find out just how much of a threat he is. But he continued to smile.

  When all the guests had gone, Marc and Ghislaine began to tidy up.

  “We can leave the rest for tomorrow,” Ghislaine declared, at one point. “I think the evening was a success, if I do say so myself.”

  “Your parties are always successful. They all had a good time. The food was great, as usual. And it was nice of you to make that date with Marie.”

  “She could use a makeover—but I like her. I only hope you won’t be too bored, entertaining Renaud all by yourself. He seems like the quiet type.”

  “Oh, we’ll find something to talk about,” Marc said, vaguely. “Something to do. I flatter myself that I can get along with all sorts of men.”

  On Saturday, the two wives, chattering away like a couple of eager schoolgirls, drove off on their adventure.

  Marc showed Renaud his new stereo setup, which provided a suitably neutral subject for conversation.

  “Let me know when you get hungry,” Marc said. “We can go somewhere for lunch. Or we can stay here, and I’ll fix us something. We can watch the soccer match on TV.”

  “Well, we’re both kind of dressed down,” Renaud pointed out.

  “Yeah. After having to dress up all week, I like to be comfortable when I’m at home on the weekend.”

  “I really don’t feel like changing clothes. Why don’t we stay here?”

  “Sure. I’ll open a bottle of wine. And go ahead and smoke, if you want to. I’ll find something you can use as an ashtray.”

  “Smoke? Here? Inside the house?”

  “Why not?”

  “If Ghislaine smells it when she comes home, she might give you a hard time.”

  “Unless you’re the kind of chain-smoker who lights up one from the smoldering butt of another, the fumes will have dissipated long before the girls get back. And here in my own house, when I’m on my own—well, I’ve been known to do any number of things which my wife might disapprove of, if she knew about them.” Marc handed Renaud a filled wine glass. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks. So tell me, Marc—”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you keep a lot of secrets from your wife?”

  “Hell, yes,” Marc admitted, without shame. “What man doesn’t? It’s the only way to have a successful marriage.”

  The two men sat down and drank their wine, and Renaud smoked.

  “This is kind of awkward, Marc,” Renaud said, haltingly. “But … if I asked you a very personal question, would you be offended?”

  “I’m not easily offended. Ask away.”

  “Anything the two of us talk about—it stays here, doesn’t it?”

  “Of course. It’ll be our secret,” Marc agreed.

  “Are you faithful to Ghislaine?”

  “No.”

  “You say that so casually!” Renaud exclaimed.

  “It’s a fact. It’s nothing to be proud about, I suppose. But it’s not necessarily something to be ashamed of, either. Not all marriages are alike. They can require different things to make them work.”

  “Does Ghislaine know you cheat on her?”

  “No.”

  “She’s so beautiful. I’m surprised that—I don’t know quite how to put it.”

  “You’re surprised that she isn’t enough to satisfy me. Is that it?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Let’s talk about your marriage for a moment. Do you ever cheat on Marie?”

  “Every chance I get,” Renaud blurted out.

  Marc had to laugh. “Why, you sly dog, you! I’ve got to admit it, buddy—you don’t look like the type. I suppose there’s a lot of truth in what they say, namely, that still waters run deep.”

  “I can’t help myself, Marc. Don’t get me wrong. Marie is a wonderful woman, a great wife. But—”

  “Go on,” Marc coaxed, when his neighbor hesitated.

  “She doesn’t satisfy me. Not in all the ways I like to be satisfied.”

  “Is she uptight? Are there certain things she won’t do in bed?”

  “There are certain things she can’t do in bed.”

  “Because—? Come now,” Marc insisted. “Out with it. This is me you’re talking to. You can tell me anything. I promise I won’t be shocked. Or judgmental.”

  “Because she’s a woman.”

  “And you like men …you like me, as well as women. You see? I’m not shocked. I understand.”

  “It’s like I said, I can’t help myself. I’m bisexual.”

  “You say that as though it was a bad thing. I don’t think of it that way. I think of it as allowing myself to enjoy the best of both worlds.”

  “Then, you, too—?”

  “I’m bi, too. Of course. As I’m sure you’ve already guessed, long ago.”

  “Well … honestly, Marc, I have not been spying on you, I swear. But I can’t help noticing certain things.”

  “Such as men coming and going here, and always when Ghislaine isn’t here,” Marc mused. “In a way, I’m grateful to you. Maybe I haven’t been as careful as I thought I was.” Marc smiled at Renaud. “Do you have a steady lover?”

  “No. Just fuck buddies, and the odd trick, here and there. You know—one-night stands.”

  “Oh, how well I know! I know exactly what you’re talking about. It’s the same for me.”

  “It’s so sordid and disgusting, sometimes.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that. It doesn’t have to be like that. It can be kind of exciting. Like playing a game.”

  “A game with very high stakes,” Renaud pointed out. “You’re so casual about it.”

  “There’s no point in being uptight about it, my friend. That doesn’t get you anywhere. So tell me. Would you like to fool around?”

  The question took Renaud by surprise.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Do you want to fuck around? I don’t know how to put it any more clearly than that.”

  “Here? Now?”

  “Here and now, yeah. It seems like the perfect opportunity, to me.”

  “Our wives—”

  “Aren’t here. They’re out spending our money. Why shouldn’t we have our fun, while they’re having theirs?”

  “Damn,” Renaud muttered, biting his lip.

  “You want to, don’t you?”

  “I promised myself that I’d try to stop. Or to cut down, at least. Not whore around so much. I’ve even thought—if I put my mind to it—I could be straight.”

  Marc had to smile. “Oh? And how’s that been working out for you?”

  “Not very well. It’s like trying to quit smoking. The craving is still there. Stronger than ever, if anything.”

  “Well, I’d hate to think of myself an enabler, Renaud. But let’s come to an understanding. Do you want to fuck around with me, or don’t you? If not, there won’t be any hard feelings—so to speak—! But if you do—?”

&nbs
p; “I do. Yes! God help me, but I do! It’s like I told you. I can’t help myself. And I’m so hot for you, Marc. It drives me mad. I feel as though I’ve got to have you … as though I’ll die, if I don’t.”

  “It sounds like a crisis. So let’s not waste any more. The bedroom’s that way,” Marc said, pointing. “I’ll grab a few things we’ll need, and I’ll join you there in a minute.”

  Renaud went off in the direction Marc had indicated, and Marc went into his home office, where he raided the wall safe.

  On his way to the bedroom, he darted into the bathroom, where he found a freshly laundered towel.

  In the bedroom, Renaud was standing beside the unmade bed.

  “This seems so wrong,” he said—although Marc didn’t detect much conviction in the look on his face, or in his tone of voice. “You and Ghislaine must’ve slept in this bed, last night—”

  “You bet we did,” Marc agreed. “I didn’t fuck her, though. It wasn’t one of our sex nights. We tend to spread them out, you see. So I’m good and horny. I’m ready for you, buddy. And doing it in the marital bed is just going to make it more exciting. Come on, let’s get moving. Take off your clothes.”

  Marc set the example, by beginning to strip. As Renaud, too, undressed, he glanced at the towel, box of condoms, and bottle of lube which Marc had set down on the nightstand.

  “Are you into oral and anal?” Renaud asked, meekly.

  “I’m into everything,” Marc boasted. “Everything that two or more men can do together.”

  “Sometimes it hurts when I try to take another guy up my ass.”

  “Don’t worry. I like it either way. You can fuck me, all you want. But don’t worry. If you want me to fuck you, I’ll be gentle. At least at first. And when I’m done with your hole, you’re going to love being fucked!”

  “Shit,” Renaud moaned. “When I hear another guy talking dirty like that—it gets me so hot!”

  “You think I talk dirty? Wait until you see what I can do while my mouth is busy doing other things,” Marc promised.

  They were both naked and erect, their clothes flung onto the floor beside the bed.

  “God,” Renaud gasped, staring at the other man’s nude body. “I’ve wanted this—I’ve wanted you—ever since we moved in next door, and I saw you for the very first time!”