It's true, we really needed a new village hall. The existing building was just too small, and desperately in need of renovation. We had tried everything — jumble sales, fêtes, appeals in the local newspapers, but the amount of money we had raised was woefully short of what we needed, even for the most pressing repairs.
It was at a meeting of the Parish Council, of which I was chairman, that it was suggested — I forget by whom — that we ought to approach Sir George, who was very wealthy (he was a very successful hedge fund manager) and well known for his philanthropy. He had moved into the village a couple of years earlier and had bought the old Manor House, which made him sort of squire of the manor, and although he was away on business much of the time, his wife Lady Angela was often seen in the village. Some people thought that, at the age of thirty-four, I was too young to be chairman, but in my work for the government industrial conciliation service I had already had considerable experience of difficult negotiations, and chairing the Parish Council was really simple by comparison.
If had known then the pain and humiliation I would suffer, I would not have approached him, but I was innocent of his true nature — and the nature of his business — so I went to see him in good faith. In the end, the train of events that I set in motion cost me my marriage, and even now ten years later I still shudder when I look back at those few months. In the end, everything has turned out for the better, but I am a sadder and wiser man now, although happier than at any time in my life.
When I rang to make an appointment, the phone was answered by his secretary, and when I had explained my business she said that Sir George would be able to fit me in the next week. It was with some trepidation that I walked up to the imposing front door of the Manor House — a building that dated back in parts to the sixteenth century, although there had been many later additions. When the door opened, I was greeted by a tall and well-built man in a dark suit — I learned that he acted as major-domo for the establishment, but had been a professional wrestler at one time under the stage name Big Jake; I never did learn his real name. I was immediately ushered into Sir George's study and asked to take a seat. While I was waiting I looked around the room and was struck by the rather racy Victorian prints on the walls — erotica seemed rather incongruous in the restrained atmosphere of the room with its wood panelling and bookcases filled with rare books and old manuscripts; fox-hunting prints would have been more in character I thought.
After a few minutes, Sir George entered through a door in the panelling, and after shaking my hand, took his seat behind an opulent desk in front of the mullioned window. He asked me cordially what my business was, and after I had explained our predicament he thought for a while, and then said that he would be delighted to help and would a million pounds be sufficient. I nearly fell off my seat in surprise, but managed to stammer that such a generous gift would be more than enough to build a new village hall, and would give us a building that would serve the community well into the future.
"No time like the present," Sir George said, taking out his chequebook, "but there is one condition."
"Oh," I replied, immediately worried, "and what might that be."
"Don't be alarmed," he said, and laughed, "I want you to allow your wife to be our house guest for one week during the summer. See, nothing too terrible. I know that Lady Angela will enjoy having intelligent female company; I am often tied up with work even when I am at home and she can get a bit lonely."
I couldn't see anything wrong with this, so I gave my assent, and said I would let my wife know, thinking that she wouldn't have any problems. In fact, I thought she might enjoy it. At that time I didn't think that my wife Sonia and Lady Angela were even acquainted, and certainly not intimately so. How wrong I was.
ooOoo
Sonia went to stay with Sir George and Lady Angela during the first week of August. When she got back home she seemed somehow different, which I put down to a week of high living, but when I asked how she had enjoyed it, her reply knocked me flat.
"I have had a wonderful week darling," she said, "I have never been fucked so well and so often." She did have the good grace to look slightly hesitant as she said this, but then looking me straight in the eyes, she said that I might be rather surprised to hear about her experiences during the week and that it was time to confront some home truths about our sex life, such as it was.
"What are you talking about?" I shouted, "Have you gone raving mad? You must be making it up."
"O no," she replied, "I have just had one of the most sexually exciting and liberating weeks of my life."
By now I was very angry. "What about your wedding vows to love and honour me? I am your husband, after all."
"You are so old-fashioned Paul," she said, "love and romance are male inventions to make sure that they pass on their genes, and as for fidelity — well that is just the way that men try to control female sexuality; it is no more than a form of slavery, and so hypocritical too. Sex is like food, you need variety. Steak and kidney pie is all very well once in a while, but not every day. I don't know about you, but I need something more spicy and George and Angie have certainly given me that. They've opened my eyes to what I have been missing, and from now on I'm going to make up for lost time and have lots of lovely sex."
"But I thought you enjoyed it when we made love," I said, somewhat lamely.
"Oh, you have a nice enough cock, but you really don't have much imagination, and you are always so busy with your blessed Parish Council. It was fun when we were first married, but I have been so bored and frustrated. I thought I could make do with masturbating, but a dildo is not the same as a good fucking, and besides, I have missed a nice sweet pussy to play with. I haven't told you, but Angie and I were roommates at uni, and I was so happy when she came to live in the village. We used to have really great sex — she has a lovely pussy and I used to spend hours kissing and licking it, and when she returned the favour, I would come and come — God it was so fantastic I would almost pass out with pleasure."
"And what about the risks of VD? Have you thought about that?"
"Oh, that. A quick shot of antibiotics will cure a dose of clap and syphilis, and everyone knows you can only catch HIV from using drugs, and antiviral therapy is really effective now," she retorted.
"Yes, but what about genital warts? They cause cervical cancer you know."
"Silly, there's a vaccine to prevent warts."
"But it's only given to teenage girls."
"Normally that is true," she said airily, "but Georgy can get anything he wants, and he has arranged for me to have a shot from one of his doctor friends, plus the hepatitis vaccine as well. There's absolutely nothing to worry about."
"And was last week the first time you have cheated on me since we were married?" I asked, dreading what her answer might be.
"Oh no," she replied, "Angie and I met by accident in the village shop a couple of months after she and Georgy moved into the Manor House, and we picked up our old relationship almost immediately. I have regularly been having sex with Angie and George — and Big Jake (and he really is big) — for well over two years. I meant to tell you months ago, but the right opportunity never seemed to arrive, and judging by your reaction, it is a jolly good thing it didn't."
I realised there was no point in arguing further. It was clear that Sonia was no longer the sweet woman I had married. "You had better tell me everything," I said resignedly, "and then I can decide what to do. At the moment I feel totally humiliated, and I'm not sure whether our marriage can survive."
"Okay," she said, "and after I have told you, I have a DVD that you can watch. I am willing to bet you will find it terrifically arousing, and I am certain that George and Angie will be happy to let you join in our games — a foursome is just mind-blowing, and Angie knows a lot of tricks to make a man think he has died and gone to heaven. We used to call her the blow job queen."
ooOoo
Sonia’s Story
As I've said, Angie and I were roommates at uni. She was a bit strapped for cash and decided she needed to find a way to earn some money. She didn't want to do anything boring like stacking shelves at Tescos or serving behind the counter at Mcdonald's, which is what many other girls did, and working in a pub was bloody hard work and would have left little time for enjoying herself, quite apart from studying. She had a lovely figure and thought it would be fun to work as an exotic dancer.
She easily found a job in a local club and was having a good time. However, the money wasn't as good as she had expected, and when she was talking to the other girls in the dressing room after a show, they told her that with a body like hers, she could get really good money as a lap dancer. She thought about it for a couple of nights and then decided why not, she had no hang-ups about nudity, and it might be quite exciting to have power over men. To cut a long story short, one of the girls introduced her to the manager of a lap dancing club near the business quarter of the city, and after a brief interview during which she was asked to strip and give the man a dance, she was offered a job, originally for three nights a week.
At first, Angie only had a few routines, but after watching the other dancers, she realised that she needed to develop her own specialities. She also discovered that displaying her body and flashing her naked pussy at the punters made her extremely horny, and when she got home in the early hours she would either masturbate with her favourite vibrator until she almost passed out in ecstasy after the most amazing multiple orgasms, or better still, wake me up for a fantastic sex session during which she would often ask me to fuck her with a strap-on dildo.
Although touching wasn't allowed, she found that she could surreptitiously grind her naked pussy against a client's crotch, and she was sure that some of them ejaculated in their pants — the look on their faces certainly suggested it, and she would always get a big tip tucked into the strap of her g-string afterwards. All tips had to be handed over to the barman at the end of the night, but she would receive a bonus at the end of the week based on a percentage of what she had been given. She noticed that many of the girls would disappear with their client through a door at the rear of the bar, and when she asked, they told her that there were rooms at the back where they could give a private show for a really big tip.
After she had been working there for a couple of months, the manager called her into his office after closing. She was rather worried that she was going to be reprimanded for overstepping the mark with her act, but she was relieved and delighted when he told her that some of the regulars had asked if she gave private shows.
"You are very popular," he said, "and it would be good for custom if you would look after our richer clients and their special guests, quite apart from increasing your own earnings. What you do is your own business, but many men will pay well to watch a girl masturbate, and even more if she obviously has a climax. Fucking is not allowed — this is not a brothel, and I don't want to fall foul of the law — and this also applies to blow jobs, but you may give a client manual relief."
It was at the club that she met Georgy. He was in town on business, and once the deal had been signed off after a week of hard negotiating, the CEO of the company suggested that a little celebration was in order. The CEO was a regular customer, and after Angie had danced for him and George, he suggested that she might like to take George backstage for a private dance — "It will be well worth your while," he said, "and will make it more likely that Sir George will put more business my way, rather than going to one of my competitors."