My stomach is literally in knots as they walk through the door.  My wife Jennifer and our two children, back from after-school activities, arms loaded with takeout food.  I give Jennifer a brief hug and she pecks me on the cheek, not the lips.  I can smell the body wash, still somewhat fresh, not normal for this time of day, of that I’m certain.  Small talk about how our days were.  Boring, she says.  Something about faux drama in her circle of housewife friends.  Mundane but shameful for being so brazenly made up.  The kids are excited to talk about their sports practices and teams.  We huddle around the island and fill our plates and eat at the kitchen table.  A normal Wednesday evening.

Except there is absolutely nothing normal about it.  Because there was absolutely nothing normal about the afternoon that preceded it.  Or, for that matter, about who knows how many afternoons, or mornings, or days like it that preceded this one.  I’ve stumbled upon a secret vault that has torn my well-ordered world half apart.  I cannot focus.  Everything seems to be swimming before my eyes.  My heart races.  I muster every bit of strength I can to keep a calm outward demeanor.  I desperately need a drink, but we have both observed a custom of not imbibing on weeknights for years now.  I do believe it’s contributed to retaining our trim builds and long since ceased to be a sacrifice, but oh my, how I could use a glass of good bourbon right now.

The rest of the evening passes normally, that is to say, dominated by domestic concerns, mainly the kids’ homework.  All too quickly, the household is settling down for the night.  My nerves have reached a raw but somewhat stable state, until I realize that soon Jennifer and I will be climbing into our bed.  The bed in which just a scant few hours ago, she fucked him.  Took his cock, his bare cock, deep inside her.  Allowing him into the most private recesses of her body and perhaps her heart.  The knot begins to grow in the pit of my stomach again, and I begin to tremble slightly.  I take some deep breaths to center myself and begin my pre-bedtime ritual.

I kiss each child goodnight and walk into the bedroom to find her preparing to put on her bedclothes.   She pulls off her top and her panties and is naked, the soft light from the bedside lamp illuminating her body.  Her soft curves, brown hair brushing her bare shoulders, her perfectly proportioned breasts, still firm, nipples slightly erect.  She instinctively turns away, unusual modesty even given the humdrum state to which our intimate life has come.  I note this and try to process it, wondering if she is motivated merely by guilt or by a desire to save herself for him.  A stab of sadness runs through me, yet at the same time, as I watch her bend over to step into her sleep shorts, her soft round ass so beautifully displayed, I feel a stirring as I see her in an entirely different light.  How many times over the past few years have I regarded her just so, only to ignore the beauty in front of me?  My god, she is sexy.  No, it’s more than that.  She exudes sexuality.  She is an erotic vision.  Knowing that another man has taken her, claimed her perhaps, right here in our bedroom makes her mysterious, alluring, and yes, perhaps unattainable.  I am devastated and yet impossibly aroused.  I cannot even recall the last time I felt so turned on.

Teeth brushed, faces washed.  She finishes before me and is already under the sheets as I slide in next to her.  She whispers good night, pledges her love, and rolls over to face away from me.  I cuddle up behind her and spoon.  At first she doesn’t respond, but I know she can feel my hardened cock against her ass, even through our nightclothes.  I put my arm around her, pull her close, and begin to kiss the back of her neck.  My hand finds its way under her shirt and up to her breast.  The nipple hardens to my touch and she begins to respond.

Clothes are shed.  She doesn’t go down on me.  I need to taste her.  I kneel between her legs and kiss the region around her pussy.  She begins to protest but I shush her as I take my thumbs and peel her open.  My eyes have adjusted to the faint light from the streetlamps peeking around the corners of the window shades and I can see she is freshly shaved, with only a small patch of hair artfully sculpted above the top of her slit.  She is surprisingly wet already, and a strong musky odor emanates from her. 

Them.

I begin to lick, up one lip and down the other.  My tongue flicks across her hood.  A bit of wetness trickles out of her.  It is clear at first, but then, there it is.  Little white viscous drops, some small, some more like blobs.  He is still trickling out of her.  How many hours has it been?  Visions of how much of himself he emptied into her flash in my brain.  I am consumed by a need to taste.  I am revolted, both by what she has done and by my burning desire to take another man’s cum into my mouth.  Not just any man, but the one who has shared the most intimate act that two people can share with her.  

My wife.

I flick at the white fluid and savor its salty taste on my tongue.  Something animal growls within me and I begin to suck at her, trying to get more out.  Wanting perhaps to rid her of him, to clean out all vestiges of the betrayal that has happened here in our marital bed.  Or perhaps wanting to find some way to insert myself into their intimacy, unwilling to let her go to him completely.

I feel sick, yet at the same time incredibly alive.  My cock is rock hard as I slide up and pause above her.  I lean down and kiss her fiercely, forcing my tongue into her mouth, sharing the juices of their sexual union with her.  The circle complete, I ram into her hard, not caring if she is ready or not.  I desperately need to reclaim her, mark her as mine, if only for these few hours of darkness.  I am fucking her hard now, very hard.  Beneath me, I am only faintly aware of her response, but it does register that she is cumming violently.  Her nails dig into my back so hard that she draws blood.  A silent scream emits from her open mouth, and I drool more of his cum into it.  She gasps and wraps her legs around me, pulling me in deeper.  My balls are boiling as I tip over the edge and unload everything I have into her waiting vessel.  My semen mixing with his.  My beautiful, sexy, unfaithful wife, fucking her second man of the day, taking another load of seed deep into her womb.  The sensation overwhelms me, and I nearly blackout.  I lose all track of how many times I pump my fluid into her.

Finally, we are done.  I am spent.  We haven’t fucked like this ever. Ever.  She is panting heavily below me.  I remain inside her, still hard, not softening even a bit.  My mid-section literally aches.  As we come down, she looks at me with questioning, probing eyes.  She begins to speak, asking me where that came from, but before the full question can come out, I touch her lip with my finger and let out a long, tender “shhhhhhhhhh”.

I kiss her forehead, smooth her hair, roll off her, facing away.  I doze but do not sleep while she quickly falls into a deep dream state.

In the grey light of pre-dawn, I rise, tug on my clothes, and tiptoe down to the kitchen.  I make a fresh pot of coffee, pour a cup, and head out to the patio.  I lower myself into a chair and watch as the sun gradually begins to rise over a new day.  A new day for the world, and for us.  I try to contemplate what this day, and the days that follow it, will bring.  I take another sip of coffee, lean my head back, and finally succumb to sleep.