As I left the house, Stefan was waiting in the car. He looked sort of normal. Strangely, it was the most normal I have seen him look lately.

“I have some whiskey at home. We could maybe watch a movie or something?” he said.

I was silent, still in shock from what I witnessed just a few minutes before. Stefan was backing out from our driveway, and I felt panic reaching record levels as the car moved away from the house. The front door was closed, and I knew what was going on behind it.

‘Would the neighbors hear them fucking tonight? Who will see them going home tomorrow? They will probably think that they spent the night, while I was at home as well. I had to come back home unnoticed tomorrow.’ I thought to my self for a moment. Then another thought.

'Sandra is going to get fucked in my son's bed, by his friend who happens to be my student, and I am thinking that I need to come back undetected. I need to come back with a shotgun and take a prison sentence like a man.’

That wasn't going to happen, though. I was too much of a pussy for that. I was too aware of the consequences that would follow, which meant that I had to suffer through this instead.

I started thinking of what they were doing at that moment and hoped that they would send some pictures. Deep down, I hoped that they would send the pictures. That was the saddest realization I had in a long time.

Stefan didn’t talk a lot. He turned on the radio. The station was Star FM. It was a station that played mostly eighties and nighties music, mostly pop. I liked it. The song that was on at that moment was "Drivers Seat" by Sniff and Tears.

It was a great song. Our band covered it quite often, to great jubilation of the crowds. I would always turn up the volume when Sandra and I were in the car alone, and the song came up on the radio. 'I love her so much. What did I do? I should have said a firm no. I should have fought for her. She is at their mercy now.’

“Great song,” Stefan said.

His words brought me back to reality. I needed the interruption from my thoughts. The anxiety was too strong.

“Yes, I like it a lot. Sandra and I tend to turn up the volume every time it comes up on the radio."

Stefan was silent. I guess he didn’t know how to react when I mentioned Sandra’s name. His silence made me uncomfortable, as well.

“They are having a great time tonight, the Johansson sisters,” I said while forcing a smile.

"Yes, they are. So are the Mikalesson men. It’s a real family affair,” Stefan said with a smile that didn’t feel that forced.

“Mark is finally getting what he has been after for such a long time. He will get off your back, I think. Sandra is nice, but she is like Ivana. They like the dick. The sisters like the dick. Especially when it's attached to a confident, cocky man. I have stopped fighting it, and I embrace it now. I jerk off to that nowadays. My life philosophy is that she loves me.

“I genuinely believe that. She loves me. She is with me even though there are other men that want her. I have something that they don't, or I was a man in the right place at the right time. It doesn't matter. She wakes up next to me. I know things about her, intimate things. Her childhood, her hopes, her dreams, her fears. I know all of this. She tells me about the other men. Those are the big things. That makes her actions feel like a less of a betrayal.

“The details about other men put me inside the lope. I am there. I know things about my competition. Things they probably don’t know that I know.

“The bad thing is that I don’t have what she needs in the D department or the stamina department or the manliness department. She wants that as well, and understandably so.

“I don’t want to stand in her way when it comes to that. I want to be with her. I want to wake up next to her and hear what she has to say every day. I want to know how she feels and what she wants to do and so on. I want to listen to her voice.

“It’s that simple, my day is better when I can make her laugh. That makes me happy.”

I listened carefully. Stefan said some things that made me feel a little bit better.

“I mean, it’s hard to be everything to one person. I don't want that. I don't feel that I want that, or maybe I know that I am not capable of being that, not to Ivana anyway. There are some women that I could be everything to but, I don’t want those women. They aren’t as attractive as Ivana. They aren’t as smart as her and so on. So I do this instead. I am with someone that I love. And for that, I am willing to pay the price off not having her exclusively for myself. Not only that. I am willing to accept to be her second choice for now. It's important to say for now.

“Love is a strange thing, and I love her. Her affairs make me jealous. It’s not only the sex, it’s the intimacy as well. The intimacy that she shares with the other men. That is the tough one for me.

“They can fuck her brains out, but I don’t want her to develop feelings for them. She sort of does in a way every now and then, but you know what I mean.”

‘I thought that I knew what he meant. He wanted some sort of exclusivity for her heart. He doesn't mind that she gets the big dick every now and then. But the heart is secret for him only.’

“I don't mind it that much that she gets fucked so good that she forgets her own name. I even find it sexy, and I get a hard-on thinking about it and seeing it and so on. But when I see her whispering something to her lover, or they ask me for some privacy. That is when it most often really hurts," he added.

I understood him. He loved her. He was possessive of her heart and soul. The rest he has given up on. He explained it to himself that It was "just sex". I thought that it was an interesting idea. I also need to be honest with myself and acknowledge that I had a hard-on earlier this evening. I was turned on by the way she treated Mark and Paul.

It wasn't the first time that I got hard from fantasizing about her and other men. Some of our most intense lovemaking has been after her sleeping with other men.

However, realizing this didn’t take away all of my anxieties. I still felt bad. The feeling was similar to the one I had when she first had sex with someone outside our marriage. At that time, we were in Turkey, and two Turkish men living in Sweden had shown their interest in her.

They were there with their families: their wives and kids. The men were brothers. They were polite, Turks tend to be that, excessively so. They liked the fact that they were at home, so to speak, and that they could show their country to some Swedes. It was a bonus that Sandra looked the way she did but also had the personality that she does.

I think that with her, the personality is as attractive as the looks, maybe even more so depending on who you ask. I know that it is the personality that I like, more than the looks. Then again, I loved her, so that might not be that strange.

Anyway, the Turks seemed to like her company initially. They tried to be sly about it, but it was sort of obvious to all that paid attention. She was always smiling and laughing. As days went by it become apparent that they were working on the way to get more of her, so to speak. To enjoy more of her than just her laughter and her smiles. This angered me.

We met them for the first three days on the beach. They had their wives with them, so they had to be careful about how they approached Sandra. So they approached me. They saw me wear an Arsenal cap the first day, and that opened the door for them to start a conversation with me. The brothers were Galatasaray fans themselves. I wasn't surprised. There were really only three clubs they could have supported. Those were the big three from Istanbul. Galatasaray was one of them.

On the second day on the beach, one of them wore a Galatasaray shirt. They came up to us and started teasing me for the UEFA cup finale loss to them in 2000.

"Popescu," said the shorter one of the two men while smiling and offering me a high five.

I didn’t high five him. It was obvious that he was taking a piss.

Popescu was the last name of a Romanian international that played for Galatasaray during the team's glory years. He was at Barcelona first, and surprisingly ended up in Turkey afterwords.

He scored the final penalty that sealed the win for Gala and Turkish football. It is to this day the only European trophy a Turkish team has won. Apart from Galatasaray winning the European super cup the following season.

I didn’t like these guys from the start. I didn’t hate them either, but their not so hidden agenda of getting close to my wife through me made me dislike them. I had been together with Sandra long enough to know when people talked to me so that they could eventually talk to her. We had a bit of banter back and forth, mostly about football.

But when Sandra came around, we spoke about Sweden. About how hard it is for foreigners in Sweden. And how it's getting harder by the day because of the political situation.

Sandra was understanding. So was I, up to a point. But the tone in their voices when talking about the situation in Sweden was a bit wrong, I felt. It was aggressive, and that aggression seemed pointed at me.

They said nothing bad to me but the whey they said that what they went through and that no Swede could handle such things and so on, felt rather aggressive. The tone in Osman’s voice and his piercing stare felt threatening.

He told us a story about how he was in a fistfight as recently as two years ago. The cause of the fight was the fact that he was dating a girl that worked for him. She wasn't good at her job, and he let her go. She then threatened to tell his wife and her friends. He in turn slapped her across her face and threatened her that he would beat her black and blue if she said a word to anyone.

She did. She told her parents. They came to talk to him and threatened to go to the newspapers and authorities with the girl's story. The girl was seventeen when she started working but eighteen when their relationship started.

"So I garbed the father by the neck and said that if he says a word to anyone, I will beat him so hard that he will end up in a hospital. You shouldn't have raised a whore in the first place! She is a big girl. She wants the dick. I gave her the dick. Now it's over. I never want to see you in my pizzeria again. I said to him, still holding him by his throat in front of his wife," Osman said with disturbing intensity.

Like it had happened ten minutes ago. Osman was the name of the tall one of the two.

"I opened a small pizzeria in a small town. In the beginning, it went really good. Until the thing with the girl happened. I was the only foreigner there. The whole town was against me. They broke the windows of my pizzeria, and people stopped coming, so I had to close. I even fought one of the slut's young friends. I beat him up. And I told him that I will send him to the hospital next time I see him. He needs to learn his place. He should be happy that I didn't contact some people I know.”

“What people?” Sandra asked.

“I have lived an intense life. I have met many different people in my past, that are my friends now. He should be happy that I didn't tell my brother. Mustafa takes no prisoners," he said while nodding towards the other Turk.

“How old were you at the time?” asked Sandra timidly.

“It was two years ago. I was thirty-nine.”

“It’s a big age difference,” Sandra added.

“She was eighteen. She knew what she was doing. I wanted to fuck. She wanted to fuck. She was proud of getting an older married man with class and money. But in the end, she wasn't good at her job. I tried to be professional and teach her the job, but she was lazy. I had to fire her. She should have focused more on doing a good job than strolling around the place like she did and offering herself like that. Things happen sometimes. She needed to find a new job. Not try to extort me," he said in an intense and slightly annoyed tone.

That story made me see him as the lowest of the low. I said nothing, his tone felt too aggressive. Instead, I just listened. The other brother’s name was Mustafa. Osman and Mustafa. Apparently, two very common names in Turkey. They looked like two iterations of Sasha Baron Cohen’s character Borat. You could say they looked like Borat without his lovable traits. Both had a mustache and curly black hair. Osman was the older and taller one of the two.

He was about five foot eight and very hairy in general, apart from his head where it was obvious that he was balding.

Osman weighs about one hundred and seventy pounds, without looking fit. He had black, piercing eyes that made people easily uncomfortable, I would think. He looked sly, like a stereotypical villain in an American movie.

Mustafa was a bit shorter and also chubbier, and he wasn’t balding. He also had that same sort of impatience in his eyes. Like he was up to something. The men were in their early forties late thirties at the time. They lived in Malmö. That is Sweden's third-largest city and is situated at its southern tip.

The brothers owned a pizzeria and kebab shop. They came to Sweden as small kids, but their wives are Turkish women that they "imported" a few years ago. It's a term often used in Sweden for foreigners that find their brides in their own countries.

Throughout the day, I saw how both of them were throwing glances towards Sandra. She had her white bikini on. It was a bit transparent, and I think that one could glimpse her pubes through it. Mustafa joined his kids in the water when he saw Sandra go in, for example. He ended up talking to her. I doubt that it was a coincidence.

Back at the hotel after our second day at the beach, Sandra and I took our turns in the shower while the kids went out to the arcade. I was tired after the full day in the sun. The kids had that energy. They didn’t want to stay put. Sandra wasn't tired, either. She sat on the balcony while I took a nap.

I slept for about forty minutes. When I woke up, I heard Sandra talking on the phone. I soon realized that she was talking to her mother. She was telling her about her day and the new friends that we met.

“I was thinking the same thing,” she said.

Then a pause.

“They were eating me up with their eyes. It is making me a bit uncomfortable even though I like it a little. Also, they seemed a little dangerous. It is a bit unsettling."

She was quiet again.

"You are so bad, Mom! But I will see. It's mostly uncomfortable still because I don't know how to react in front of the kids and the Turkish wives. They don't seem to like me," Sandra said gleefully.

“But it is fun, being ogled. I had my white bikini on today, and it is a tad transparent. I even caught them looking at my crotch I once. One can almost see the pubes when I wear it.”

Then she went quiet again.

“I have no plans yet. It’s just fun having their attention. I will see how it feels.”

Later that evening, when the kids were asleep, Sandra and I discussed the day. We ended up talking about the story that Osman had told us.

"Quite a story?" I said.

“I bet it was modified,” Sandra added with a smug smile.

“Probably,” I answered.

"I bet that the girl didn't want to fuck him anymore, and he fired her. I bet that he promised her some shit and didn’t deliver or that she didn't find fucking him fun after a while, and she ended it all, and he got pissed and fired her. She probably wasn't a pushover and wanted to get some justice, and that made things escalate," Sandra said while taking a sip of the wine.

“That sounds much more plausible,” I agreed.

"Who would fuck that guy anyway?" I added.

"Many women, I would. He seems like an asshole but sort of straight forward one. It is a bit sexy that he is on edge all the time somehow. He is probably dirty and dominant in bed. I would consider fucking him,” she said while blushing a little.

I was utterly shocked to hear her say that. Her words left me without a decent replay.

“You don't like what I said? I understand, but we are adults. We have discussed these things. It's just sex. I would never be with a guy like that. I love you, but I would probably fuck him," she reiterated with a smile on her lips.

I just smiled quietly. She then leaned in and gave me a kiss on the lips. We stayed up for an hour or so after that talking about various things before going to bed.

The Third Day at the Beach

We went to the same place as the day before. And sure enough, the brothers came as well with their families in tow. Later in the day they started talking to me again and asked if I wanted to have a beer with them.

I declined politely, but Sandra overheard them asking, and just a few minutes after they went to the bar, she suggested that we join them.

“Maybe later,” I said uncomfortably.

"I will go and join them then, and you can come later," she said innocently.

“OK,” I replied as she was walking away without really waiting for me to answer.

I then saw her sit down at their table to their jubilation. They seemed to have struck up a great conversation immediately. I snuck another peek and was caught by Osman. I felt embarrassed by him noticing me looking from afar. I tried to ignore it. Instead, I turned around and looked the other way.

Then I caught the look of one of the wives. She seemed annoyed with me. I looked away. I looked toward the sea now. My kids were in the water, and they seemed to have fun.

But the look in the Turkish woman’s eyes made me uncomfortable. It was as if she knew that something bad was going on. I tried to shake it off, but I couldn't. Instead, I decided to join Sandra and the Turks in the bar. The three of them were all laughs and giggles when I walked up to them.

“So you changed your mind?” said Osman triumphantly.

“Hey, honey," said Sandra.

They were smiling and welcoming me when I joined, but it felt like they didn't want me there.

“Osman said that there is a better beach nearby. He suggested it for us to check it out," Sandra said.

“Oo? Where? I asked.”

“It’s not that far. You should check it out. It is called the Cleopatra beach. It has a bit more western vibe,” he said.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“People are more relaxed. There are more women that sunbathe topples there, and so on. We want to go there, but our wives are against it. They don’t like the western vibe,” Osman said.

“I like to sun bathe topless,” chimed Sandra in.

“Then, you should go there," said Mustafa.

"Would you show us where it is?" asked Sandra.

"Yes, of course. It will be great to get away from the wives for an hour or so," said Osman with a smile on his face.

The Turks stayed for another few minutes it tuck them to drink up their beers and then left our table.

“I didn’t know that people are topless in Turkey,” Sandra said.

“Neither did I.”

“It will be fun seeing the new beach tomorrow, and being topless,” she said wit a sly grin.

“Yes, It won't hurt to see some other places while we are here," I said while not knowing how to feel about the whole thing.

Her smile made me uncomfortable. I liked the fact that we might be apart from Mustafa and Osman, but somehow I didn't quite believe that we would really.

Eventually, the time came for us to go back to the hotel. As we were getting ready to leave, I saw Osman and Mustafa stand up and walk toward the beach bar, where we had a beer with them earlier that day. We had to pass the bar in order to get home, it meant that we would pas them. I refused to think that this was some kind of coincidence. They were talking in Turkish and acted surprised when they saw us walk by. Then they stopped talking among themselves for the moment and turned to us.

“It was nice hanging out with you today. We will see you tomorrow,” Osman said and stretched out his arm towards my wife.

She looked puzzled while shaking his hand. He shook my hand too. Both men did, and we went our way. I was puzzled as well. Was them standing there just a coincidence? We got back to the hotel and had the same routine as the day before.

When I woke up, we got dressed and went out for dinner. When we came back, the kids went to bed, and Sandra and I went on to the balcony for some vine.

“Osman and Mustafa are going to pick us up tomorrow. They will be here at about eleven,” said Sandra cautiously.

It was obvious that she was not sure how to say that. I was surprised. I was hoping that somehow today was the end of us hanging out together but apparently not.

“When did you agree to this?" I asked in a perceptibly peeved voice.

“About three hours ago," said Sandra with a cunning smile on her face.

“How?”

“He slipped me his number when he shook my hand when we were leaving the beach today."

“OK,” I said.

“His wife is a bit jealous, so he didn't want her to see him taking my number. So he did it this way. Clever, I have to say," Sandra said with a smile on her face.

“He really wants to see your boobs,” I said.

"I guess he does,” she said with a content smile.

Day Four

I didn’t sleep that well the night before. The thing Sandra told me about Osman giving her his phone number made me anxious. I woke up tired and enjoyed the fact that we didn’t go to the beach the usual time.

Our kids were swimming in the hotel pool while I was lying on a sun chair in the shade. Sandra was absent-minded that morning. It was obvious that she was a little nervous. I saw her checking her phone a number off times while making and serving us our breakfast. She liked to make breakfast. She liked to cook in general.

When the clock hit eleven, I saw her glance at her phone again. This annoyed me. I was hurt by the amount of energy she was spending on waiting for him to call. Finally, at about twenty past eleven, her phone buzzed again. She quickly picked it up.

Then turned to me and said, ”They are here.”

She said it shyly, with a little smile. To me, it was as ominous as the time that little girl in the movie Poltergeist said the same words. I could see the guilt in her eyes. I then got up and gathered the kids. We met up with Sandra a few minutes later. She was waiting with the Turks on the street outside of the hotel. They had brought a minivan.

We got seated, and Osman started the car. It was a relatively quick drive, and we were at the beach within fifteen minutes. Osman then parked the car, and the brothers accompanied us up to the beach. That made my heart sink to my stomach. I was hoping that they would leave us here, but I knew it was just wishful thinking.

They wanted to spend time with Sandra without their wives. And today they would get to see her boobs. We arrived at a spot that we liked, and I went to rent some sun chairs for us, and the Turks, as I suspected rented two sun chairs as well. When we were about to take our spots, they created some sort of confusion that resulted in Sandra lying on the sun chair between Osman and Mustafa. She took her clothes off and ended up in just her bikini bottoms.

Neither of the kids seemed to find this strange. We are often nude in front of each other at home, and they have seen Sandra topless on the beach before as well. So, the kids just went to the water without much delay.

Sandra wasn't the only topless woman on the beach that day. There were plenty of other women that had their top off as well. Sandra's boobs are big and full. The Turks didn’t hide their appreciation for them. They even reached out and jokingly grabbed them.

Sandra didn't mind. She was a free spirit, she just laughed. While they were feeling her up, the brothers started talking to me again. All of us sort of pretending that two strange men groping my wife in public was a normal thing. They started talking about football again. And mentioned that they also followed The Premier League and that their team in England was Chelsea.

My heart sunk even deeper that moment if that was even possible. Because I knew that Sandra supported Chelsea as well.

"I support Chelsea, too!" she exclaimed.

“Chelsea!” cheered Mustafa while lifting up his hands in the air with Sandra’s boob in one of them.

People around us were looking. Osman, Sandra, and Mustafa broke out in laughter. I forced a smile as well while the Turks had Sandra's boobs in their hands and cheered Chelsea, laughing as if it was the funniest thing.

"All right, boys! That is enough of boob examination!" said Sandra, still with a smile on her face while taking a step back and cupping her boobs in her own hands.

She took two more steps in my direction and gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“My husband is the only one that gets to squeeze my boobs,” she said coquettishly.

The Turks smiled and calmed down then. They also invited her to watch a game with them the following day. They said that they knew a bar that would show the Chelsea game tomorrow. The season had just started at that time, and everyone was super curios of their teams, especially fans of the big teams such as Chelsea.

The bar that Mustafa and Osman said was really good was apparently some distance away from the beach. The brothers liked it and always saw the games there. Sandra accepted.

"You get to watch the kids, honey," she said with a sly smile.

The Turkish brothers smiled sheepishly at her comment. I said nothing; instead, I just looked at her. I was frozen. I was frightened by what she said, by how she said it and by Osman’s and Mustafa’s reactions.

"I will watch them the day after. So that you can watch Arsenal," she added while putting her hand on my arm and looking up at me warmly.

“We will take you to the same bar. It is great, you will love it,” said Mustafa enthusiastically.

"O, yes! We might also watch that game as well. Anything to get away from the wives," said Osman.

The brother's demeanor stank off deviousness. It made me dislike them even more. But I said nothing. I didn’t want to cause an incident. Osman's behavior on the second day was unnerving. I was sort of on edge every time he was around.

"Heey! That is not nice! They are lovely women! You guys are such guys!" said Sandra loudly without being able to project the correct amount of sincerity.

They just laughed at her comments. Osman and Mustafa spent about an hour with us after that. Well, mostly, Sandra. Talking to her all the time. Taking a long swim with her. Horse playing with her in the water, and then they left for a couple of hours. They needed to spend some time with their families. But they came back again, going in the water with Sandra, again without me.

They were at a distance from me all day. Always far enough for me not to be able to hear them talk. I could only hear them laugh. It was the Turks and Sandra, and on occasion, our kids joined in.

I could see how Sandra was trying to involve the kids in the conversations that one of the Turks would start. David seamed confused and shy while Maria forced a polite laugh once in a while. Osman looked at me occasionally while talking to Sandra or the kids. He would have a smug smirk on his face when he did.

I was worried. The first evening she said that she found the brothers funny. They were obviously interested in her, and she didn't know how to proceed. She probably found their straightforwardness helpful. By that point in time, we had talked about opening up our marriage. These talks had been going on for more than a year by then, and I agreed to her having sex with other men. We said that the best time for it would be if we were on vacation. It would be far away from the people we knew.

Then yesterday, she said that she would fuck them. All of that played in my head and made my stomach upset. We were on vacation, there was no one we knew around, and Sandra liked the sleazy Turks that were hitting on her. They were grabbing her bare boobs in broad daylight.

Until that point, I wanted to stop this somehow, but I finally realized that it wouldn't work. She wanted this, and I agreed to it. So I gave up and let Sandra spend the rest of the day on the beach with Osman and Mustafa.

Then, about two hours after they came back, they went into the water one last time that day. I saw them horse playing in the water near some rocks. They were about a hundred yards away from me at that moment. After a while, the Turks and Sandra had calmed down. This was the longest we had stayed on the beach that trip. It was getting late, and the beach was starting to look empty. The men were real close to Sandra now, and Sandra had her arms around Osman’s neck in the water that went up to his chest. It looked like they were doing something to her underwater. So I went into the water and swam over to them.

‘She is hugging him. She is resting on him so that he wouldn't push her beneath the surface again as he did earlier when they were horse playing. She is not fucking him in the water on the public beach. I am silly for thinking it. It looks that she is moving slightly up and down, but that is just the water. It must be the water somehow,' I thought to myself.

When I approached, I could also see that she was completely naked and that her legs were wrapped around his waist. He was fucking her in the water. Mustafa was standing next to them. About two yards behind Osman. From afar, it looked like the three of them were talking. But they weren't. They were silent apart from Sandra's muffled moans.

They said nothing when they saw me. Instead, they just carried on. Sandra was breathing heavily. She struggled not to moan louder. Her eyes were open, and she was looking at Mustafa. Osman was whispering in her ear that she was a good girl. Then she saw me stand there and see it all. She didn’t stop. She just closed her eyes and continued riding until Osman finished. He groaned, then she stopped moving. He was coming inside her.

When he was done with her, he let go of her ass, and she climbed down and took two steps over to Mustafa. He then threw me her bikini bottoms that I then understood he was holding in his hand while Osman was fucking her. Sandra then climbed on him. Same position.

Osman gave me a wink as he walked past me in the water. He was getting out. I was dumbfounded. Mustafa took about five minutes to come, and then he left as well. Sandra stood there quietly, avoiding my gaze at first. She seemed to be transfixed. After a half a minute or so, she asked me to give her the bikini bottoms while still avoiding eye contact.

I did, and she tried to put them on but couldn’t do it by her self in the water that deep. She asked me to dive down and put them on her, and I did. We stood in the water silently for a minute or so.

“That was unexpected,” she finally said.

"Yes, it was," I agreed monotonously as an amnesia patient would.

Then we both started walking towards our spot on the beach where the brothers and our kids were waiting.