Confronted yet again with evidence, this time far more incontrovertible than before, Drew sought out the counsel of his old high school pal and college roommate, Dr. Doug Loomis.  

Meeting at a bar several blocks from Doug’s practice, the two drank their first beers in near silence before Doug finally broke the ice.

“From what you told me on the phone, it does sound like you’re right about her screwing around.  So what did you want to talk to me for?  It’s not with me if that’s what you’re worried about.”  He raised in hands in a gesture of mock innocence.

“Yeah, the long work nights, the soiled clothes in the hamper, the weekend work trips, the constant surreptitious text messaging.  It all adds up.  On top of that, my sex life has dwindled to virtually nothing, though when we do it, which is rare, I have to wear a condom as she’s gone off birth control because, in theory, we’re going to try to have a baby.  Based on the underwear she keeps burying at the bottom of the hamper each night, I’m apparently the only one using a condom.”

Doug took a drink.  “So you don’t think it’s me, right?”

Drew shook his head and stared into his empty beer glass.  The pleasant sandalwood notes of Doug's cologne drifted across the table.  “I’m not saying that.  It’s just that...I remember when we were in college and you used to get a lot of action.  And from what I’ve overheard around town, that hasn’t changed.  What I’m wondering is, have you ever been the ‘other guy’?  Like, maybe you can tell me why a married woman would step out.”

Doug flashed his megawatt smile.  “I get it.  Wondering why Caitlyn might do it, huh?  Look, I’m sorry about that, but I might be able to provide a bit of insight.  Yeah, I’ve been the other guy.  Shit, these days I’m always the other guy…”

“Wait, seriously?”  Drew’s jaw dropped.

Pushing his wavy blonde hair back on his head, Doug continued.  “Come on.  You must have heard that if you’ve heard rumors about me.  Yes, I exclusively do married women.”

“But why?  You could pull any girl out there?  Why settle for taken ones?”

“Drew, buddy, you’ve got it all wrong.  I’m not settling.  Married chicks are the best.  All of the upsides and none of the down.  They are rarely needy.  They don't expect much out of you.  You get to fuck ‘em and shoo them out.  Oh, and in almost every case you can come in them without worries.”

“But what about STDs or pregnancy?”  The words escaped Drew's mouth before it dawned on him that he may not like the answer.

“Sure, it's a risk.  I once had a soccer mom give me crabs that I passed on to a regular fuck buddy.  She had to tell her husband he must have gotten them from a stripper.  That was definitely no fun, though that would have happened even with a rubber.  Besides, half the women in town got that case of crabs last summer.” 

Drew's mind was drawn back to finding a medicated shampoo in his wife's bathroom the year before.  She told him it was prescribed for split ends, but a Google search said otherwise. 

Doug continued.  “As far as pregnancy, that is the point of fucking, right?  It's also the best part of married women.  How hot is it, knocking a woman up? The massive downside is that whole kid-raising thing. This way, I get the hot procreative sex and some other guy has to deal with dirty diapers and paying for braces.  Speaking of which, those costly fuckers paid for my Porsche.  If I had known back as a pre-dentistry that my hard work would result in piles of cash and a steady supply of eager mommy pussy, I would have studied a lot harder...if you know what I mean.”

Drew shook off the immediate anger that swept through him.  “But why do they do it? Risk their families for a quick roll in the hay.”

Doug signalled the barman for two more beers.  “Women are sexual creatures.  Remember when you were twenty and would have stood in traffic if you thought it would get you laid?  Well, you were at your sexual peak.  For women, it starts in their thirties.  It's right when their husbands start thinking more about gardening and retirement plans.  That newfound drive combines with a loudly ticking biological clock.  It's a cruel trick of mother nature.  A couple these days spends a decade building a comfortable nest and by the time they feel prepped and ready to populate it, the guy's mating impulse in the relationship has passed.  And then it's on another to step in and finish the job.

“I don't feel too bad for these guys.  Sure, more than a few of them have found themselves consigned to handjobs once their partners have started getting serviced elsewhere.”

“But they aren't doing the job, right?”  Drew wanted to goad Doug on but felt sick with what he was saying.

“That's a funny thing.  When the guys catch on, consciously or otherwise, they always seem to recover their libidos for a bit.  The women seem to get a kick out of it.  I swear, it's like they go into baby-making mode and their husbands pick up on it.  Like they know that breeding will happen and they're desperate to get a shot.  I've seen it in middle-aged couples that haven't fucked in years...”  Doug paused for reflection.  “I guess I'd be doing them a favor if she’s still giving it to him.”

“But you used to be such a nice guy back in school.  What started you doing this?  Not to offend, but this all seems a bit sociopathic.”

Doug’s face dropped.  “Yeah, I guess you’re right.  How much of the scandal around Coach Palmer do you remember?”

“Our high school football coach?  I remember he got divorced back in our senior year and turned into an even surlier prick for the rest of the year.”

“Oh yeah, he got divorced, but that wasn’t what had him upset.  Our dear Bob Palmer had knocked up Maryellen Townsend.  On top of his divorce, he was dealing with a criminal investigation and a school board review.”

Drew’s eyebrows shot up.  “Shit.  Wait, wasn’t Maryellen your girlfriend?”

“Uh huh.  My sweet little blonde cheerleader.  She was my first love, and I put up with barely getting a hand up her blouse from the moment we started dating the night of her sweet sixteenth.  During football practice, Coach Palmer would have his assistants running us around the track until we were puking on the bleachers - meanwhile, he’s got her bent over his desk back in the gym office every single practice session of senior year.  He told her she couldn’t put out for me because I’d be able to tell that she was loose from having sex now.  I didn’t get anything from her but birthday handjobs until two weeks after my eighteenth birthday, when we got drunk at Matt Harmon’s party and she rode me in an upstairs bedroom.  Turned out that she had just found out that she was pregnant and the good coach told her to get with me so that I’d think it was mine and marry her. What kind of fucked up shit is that?"

Drew let that sink in for a moment. 

"Anyway, that same night, the coach ends up accidentally replying to a long e-mail chain with her about all of it but instead sends the whole thing to Michael Townsend, school board president and Maryellen’s father and the guy who’d just written to congratulate the coach on another win for our Valley Vikings football team.  I mean, that’s dumb, even by high school gym teacher standards."

Doug chuckled, shook his head and nipped his beer, lost in the memory for a moment.

“So while I’m getting ridden by Maryellen at a party, her father’s losing his mind and making calls to everyone from the principal to the state police.  The next two months was all depositions and questioning by school officials.  He got a six-month suspension with pay, but even that bullshit punishment was tabled once it was pointed out that the football team was on a winning streak and that nothing could get in the way of a Midwest town and its football.

“In the end, Maryellen got shipped off to finish the year at a parochial school in Minnesota where I heard she put the kid up for adoption.  Coach Palmer kept being Coach Palmer, albeit in a divorced capacity, and the school board had the blinds on his office windows removed.  I quit football and started focusing on my studies,  which I kind of had to do.  Everyone on the football team had been pulled into the investigation and there I was, the guy whose girlfriend was fucking the coach.  I had to live with the whispers and jokes for the rest of the year.”

“Shit, man, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright now.  I’m getting my revenge.”

“Revenge?  With other guys’ wives?  How’s that right?”

“Oh, that’s just for sport.  No, the revenge is on old Coach Palmer.  A few years after we graduated, he announced that he was marrying a twenty-two-year-old paralegal named Erika McDaniel.”

“Wait, Doug, Erika McDaniel, wasn’t that Matt Harmon’s girlfriend back in high school?”

Doug let out an evil chuckle.  “One and the same, my friend.  Matt went to work at his dad’s drywall business after graduation and Erika went to community college.  They got married a year and a half later.  Two years later, she up and leaves.  Moves in with the coach.  

“Now I didn't know they were doing anything untoward prior to the split, and certainly not way back in school, but it looked pretty bad.  Not only was Matt crushed that his wife was leaving, but everyone in town is giving him the side eye.  They had just bought a house and were trying for a kid.  He tried to woo her back; he even begged her in the middle of a crowded Red Lobster.  She finally broke down and told him that she was four months pregnant and it wasn’t his.  The whole restaurant saw him go to waterworks.  Even after that, he still kept sending her messages that he forgave her and wanted her back, pregnant and all.  Coach Palmer finally showed up at his house one day and threatened to call the cops.  It was one hell of a spectacle.”

“Wow.  That’s terrible.”

“So you see, what I do may be a bit bad, but it’s nothing like old Palmer.”

“I’m not so convinced, but whatever.  So did you or Matt ever go after the guy?  It’s been, what, thirteen years now since their divorce?”

“Oh, yeah.  We did a few things over the years.  Someone might have put sugar in the gas tank of that stupid Mustang of his.  Someone may have leaked the court documents of his investigation over Miss Maryellen the year he was up for a Coach of the Year award.  Just penny-ante shit like that for a while.  Up until last year, anyway.”

“What happened last year?”

“I happened to run into Erika in the grocery store.  We got to talking.  I took her out for coffee that afternoon.  It was like we were old friends.  She was oblivious to the fact that I was still Matt’s friend.  Turns out, Coach Palmer had retired a few months earlier.  She told me he took a medical after injuring his back while moving tackling dummies.  

“We agreed to meet a week later.  This time for wine.  This time the conversation got more intimate.  She confided that at fifty-nine, old Bob was slowing down. Years of cheeseburgers and Schlitz had caught up with him and the resulting diabetes had left him with a limp noodle.  She confessed that she hadn’t gotten laid in a year.  I offered my sympathies and another glass of wine.  We just talked like old friends for hours before she had to get back and make dinner.  

“Our weekly meetups continued for several months.  She started dropping hints that she would be up for some friendly extramarital screwing.  I kept putting her off, telling her that it wouldn’t be right to do that to my dear old coach.”

“Now I’m lost.  You turned down the chance at an affair?”

“I know, right?  But this one was different.  This wasn’t about clandestine fucking.  I wanted the old coach to know I was fucking his wife.  He had to live with it like everyone he screwed over, that his wife was banging someone else.  I started bringing up open relationships, telling her I had been in them and known some couples where sex drives were mismatched, and how it worked for everyone I knew.  She was resistant at first, convinced that Bob wouldn’t go for it.

“So I keep playing the nice guy, listening to her and telling her to be honest about her desires to Bob.  I forwarded her a Cosmo article about non-monogamy and some Seattle advice column that talked about open marriages.

“It must have been six or seven months along when she calls me up excitedly.  She’d been dropping hints, especially after trying to initiate sex that failed when his little soldier refused to salute.  He’d finally acquiesced, telling her that he was taking their two daughters to their grandparents’ cabin for the weekend to teach them to fish.  She was free to do what she wanted, but no motels and it had to be discreet.  

“That Friday, I came prepared, so to speak.  I had spent the whole week eating right and drinking nothing but water and pineapple juice.  I had a whole box of Viagra in my overnight bag.”

Drew looked up from his drink.  “Pineapple juice?  Also, you needed Viagra?”

“Pineapple juice makes your cum sweet, and I definitely planned on putting a lot of it in her belly.  The Viagra was to make sure that we enjoyed an unbroken forty-eight hours of sex.  I was going to fuck her so long that she couldn’t walk right for a week.  

“I got to their house minutes after Bob drove away with the kids.  We were on each other before the door closed.  I wanted the neighbors to see Bob’s pretty wife kissing another man as he drove off.  Discreet, my ass.  After a lot of making out and petting on the sofa, I carried her up to their marital bed.  She initially told me I had to pull out, but after thirty minutes of hard fucking, she wrapped her legs around my back and locked her ankles together.  I came right where God intended.  She cleaned my cock with her tongue with no prodding on my part and by the time she was done, I was hard again.  Rather than go right back to it, I convinced her to take my balls into her mouth, lavishing intense attention on each one.  She was so worked up, that there was barely a moment of hesitation when I urged her to go lower.  She said she’d never done that.  She did that.  For a newbie, she ate my ass like it was her last meal.  After that, I put her up on all fours and doggied her vigorously, cumming inside her while I stared at the wedding picture on her nightstand.

“The next two days were a physical challenge like I had never experienced.  I do triathlons and marathons, but that weekend in their house nearly broke me.  I made a point of fucking her in their bed, on their dining room table where he ate, on his favorite recliner, and even on the hood of that stupid Mustang.  When it was over, not only had she given her first rimjob, but she’d also given up her ass for the first time and done her first DP with the help of a thick silicone dildo I’d thoughtfully brought.  The only downer moment was when she admitted to me that Bob had been her first lover, which gave me pause to think about Matt, Maryellen, and all the unpleasant backstory that led to that weekend.

“She messaged me several times over the next week.  She was effusive.  It was the best sex of her life.  Apparently, the old boy wasn’t happy that his entire house smelled like our lovemaking.  Even worse, he’d somehow gotten the idea that it was a one-time thing that she had to get out of her system.  She’d finally had to sit him down and explain that it was not going to be a one-time thing, but rather the new normal going forward.

“I can’t tell you how happy I was when she sent me that message.  I could almost see his sun-damaged face scowl as his sweet younger wife told him that she’d outsourced his sexual duties and he’d have to live with it.  

“A few days later, I texted her about getting together.  She didn’t know when she could get him out of the house again.  Being retired, he was always around now.  I suggested that she shouldn’t wait for an empty house.  After an hour of back-and-forth messages, she agreed that we may as well go for it since he knew anyway.  She suggested that he go mow the lawn and I came over while he was out back.  I can’t tell you how delicious it was, watching the old boy try to make straight lines with a mower while his wife is loudly getting plowed by her lover upstairs.  As fucked up as it is, my greatest ever climax came while she was on her hands and knees in front of me on the ottoman of his favorite chair, getting railed while we watched him through the french doors of their living room, working in the garden.  His paunchy old body, bending and sweating in the sun while I plowed his wife’s fertile patch.

“So we still get together every week or so.  She’s since added a couple more guys to the roster at my urging.  As much as I love fucking her, I’ve got so many lovely ladies to keep satisfied.  Speaking of which, I’ve got an appointment with a lovely bored housewife in half an hour.  She’s really excited to give me some news.  I suspect that all the seed I’ve dropped in her over the last few months has finally taken root.  She’s been begging me to do it, partly because she suspects hubby is sterile. We’ll see!”

Drew cocked his eyebrows.  “So how'd this one come about?”

“Sorry, bud, but I'll tell you all about it next time.  I'm off to go rock some soon-to-be mommy pussy.”

The four beers had done Drew in and after saying goodnight to his old friend, he’d stumbled the six blocks home to his house.

That night, Drew lay in bed reading the latest issue of the Economist and trying to sober up.  He heard the front door open downstairs.  She had phoned two hours earlier to say that she would be working late yet again.  Twenty minutes later, Caitlyn had undressed in the bathroom, emerged from the bathroom in a long white t-shirt, and curled up next to him.  He looked over at her and smiled.  She smiled back sweetly as she reached over and pushed her hand under the comforter, taking his cock in hand.

“Randy, dear?”

“No,” she said as she started stroking him to firmness.  “I’m really too tired for anything physical.  I just wanted to do something nice for you.”

Drew leaned back as she went to work with her hand.  As the faint scents of sex and sandalwood hit his nose, he felt his orgasm approach. 

As Drew’s breathing started to get erratic, Caitlyn reached over with her other hand and grabbed a tissue from her nightstand.  She held it in front of the tip of his penis while she stroked him.

“Baby, remember how we were talking about trying to get pregnant finally?  Well, I’ve got some good news...”

With those words, Drew came forcefully into the tissue she held.

“That’s it, baby,” she cooed into his ear.  “You’re going to be a daddy.  Were you able to get Doug to give you all the naughty details, my sterile little cuckold?”