For those who didn't read the previous parts:
Part One: Harriet is a loving but traditional woman. Her boyfriend begins to have cuckold fantasies about her, though it's clear she's not interested. Desperately, he sets up a scenario where he hopes she will at least consider the idea. He takes her out for dinner and drinks, then takes her to a local pub and gives her an ultimatum: she will sit there alone for the rest of the evening and let herself get chatted up by some local guys or he will pack his things and move out. He leaves her there, furious and upset.
She comes home late with one of the guys from the pub in two. His name is Lee and he is a bit of chav.
He watches while she gives Lee a blowjob. Enjoying his position of power, Lee calls his friend Dave, who comes by the house to see them. He convinces Harriet to give Dave a blowjob too.
While she's doing that, Lee has been in touch with his two other workmates, Eddie and Reece. They have just arrived and been shown into the living room as Harriet finishes off Dave.
Again, Lee suggests that she should give the two new guys a blowjob. Eagerly, she agrees...
Part Two: Harriet sucks off Eddie and Reece, then Lee takes her upstairs and spends the whole night having sex with her. Her boyfriends listen from the adjoining spare room. When it's all over and Lee's gone, he can barely look at her - but he won't talk to her about it. At least it's over. They'll find time to talk about it soon.
Then, the week after, he's sitting at home alone - Harriet having already gone to bed - and there's a knock at the door. He opens it and is stunned to find Lee, drunk and horny. Lee insists on going up to say hi to Harriet, and comes down an hour later zipping his flies.
Again, he won't talk to Harriet about it. He decides it won't happen again. If Lee comes knocking again, he will send him away. He practises the words until he's confident. But then when Lee does come knocking, things don't go to plan. He finds himself allowing Lee in again.
A few minutes after Lee goes upstairs this time, he hears Harriet scream for help. He goes running to assist, but it's a fake: the two of them are on the bed, amused, waiting for him. He watches as Lee takes her in a number of positions, including anally.
I practically moved into the spare room after that night. At first, it was just to sleep - but then I moved some clothes in there, a book for bedtime reading, some other stuff. Before I knew it, I'd moved in there completely.
Harriet said nothing about it.
Our relationship continued exactly as it always had: we saw friends together, visited family, did all the things that couples are supposed to do. A few times we even arranged "date nights", going out to a restaurant or to the cinema. We talked quietly, subdued. We didn't laugh. We never mentioned the thing that was important, the thing that had invaded our life.
Lee visited pretty much every Friday night now, turning up after his day at work and his evening at the pub. Once he even turned up at 3am, coming completely hammered after he'd clearly been out clubbing or something with the other lads. He had stayed at the house less than ten minutes that time, then scuttled back out the door, half-dressed.
In the early days, I would sometimes watch, always marvelling to see Harriet do things I never thought or imagined she'd ever be interested in.
After a while, I would just open the door, let him in, and then skulk up to the spare room and go to bed. I'd lay there and listen to their sounds all through the night.
This is what it has become now, I would think, laying in the dark in the spare room. I knew he would get bored of it one day and wondered if things would get back to normal after that.
I couldn't even remember what normal was supposed to be.
I thought back to the night I'd ended up with Vaseline all over my hands - that sticky, grimy feeling. My hand still felt like that on those nights, lying in the dark.
There were some Friday nights when he didn't come to the house, though they were rare. I wondered what he was doing. I wondered if Harriet missed him. She seemed to know he wasn't coming in advance, and she'd stay up a little later watching TV.
Every time, I thought about what would happen if he didn't show up again the week after, or the week after that. Would we ever be able to bridge the gap between us?
It began to feel as though life would continue like this forever.
Then in November, I made a discovery that changed everything.
#
There'd been a problem at work. All the computers had crashed. The majority of us were left unable to access the systems at all. We sat around for most of the day, twiddling our thumbs, waiting for the servers to be rebooted so that we could get on with our day. When it got to 3pm, the boss finally gave in, knowing that even if they managed to get the servers running, very little would get done. She sent us home, told us to come back fresh tomorrow.
Some of the team went to the pub - we usually did after work on a Wednesday. There was nothing wrong with getting in a few extra pints early on.
But for some reason, on this particular day, I decided to go straight home. I got back to the house early, walking through the door by 4.30, six hours earlier than usual on a Wednesday.
Harriet was already at home; she was usually out of the office by three - one of the perks of working for the local council.
She was in the living room when I came through the door, sitting on the sofa, a freshly-brewed cup of tea on the table in front of her. She was wearing an old dress, something she only usually wore around the house when she was cleaning, something she could just throw on and it didn't matter to her if it got damaged or dirty. Her hair was ragged and unkempt, her make-up smeared and dishevelled.
I suppose it's all very obvious, looking back now. But I didn't really understand what was happening at the time.
"Hi," she said. "You're home early."
"Yeah."
"Okay."
That's what passed for conversation between us nowadays. I went to the downstairs bathroom to take a piss. I stood over the toilet bowl, hosing a thin stream of weak piss, whistling to myself as I did, wondering what I would do with the extra hours I had to myself this evening.
And then I looked to the left, at the bathroom bin. The whistle died on my lips. The stream of urine slowed. The whole world swam around me as I processed what I could see in the bin: a condom. Bright red. Used and then discarded.
I finished up, washed my hands, and then came out of the bathroom, my mind reeling, trying to figure this out.
I walked into the living room. Harriet was waiting for me. Her hair was fixed now, brushed and straight. Her make-up was tidier, still shoddy. Her tea was untouched.
"Hey," I said nervously, and sat down on the armchair, watching her.
She looked back at me warily.
"What have you been doing all afternoon?"
She didn't answer; just shrugged.
We sat in silence for several minutes that stretched out like hours. Finally, I heard myself say: "He's been here today."
It wasn't a question. She didn't attempt to answer.
"There's a used johnny in the bathroom."
Now she nodded, understanding how I'd put it together.
"Does he come here a lot?"
She shrugged again.
"How long has it been happening? I didn't know he came here during the day. I thought Lee - " And then I stopped, my eyes widening in surprise. It had just hit me: this wasn't Lee. Lee had been fucking her for months and I had never known him to use a condom.
Seeing me put the pieces in place, Harriet looked away, her face reddening.
"If it's not Lee, then who is it?" I asked. I could feel anger brewing inside me, though I wasn't sure where it had come from or why it had decided to appear now.
She shrugged.
"Who is it, Harriet?"
She rolled her eyes. "The other one," she muttered.
The other one? My mind strained to decipher the comment. "The other guy from that night, you mean? From the night they were all here? The pretty-boy one?"
She shook her head now. She spoke in a low voice. "He was here a couple of times, but he was never really that interested."
"The old ugly dude?" I asked.
Now she nodded slowly.
My mind reeled. She didn't even like him. I still remembered the look of disgust on her face when she had seen him, the way she had pulled slightly away when he'd pawed and groped at her.
"Why? How long has this been going on? What?" I couldn't even structure that last one into a question.
Harriet considered a moment before answering, "He's been regular for a while now. Lee lets him finish his shift early on Wednesdays so that he can come round."
A dozen potential replies came to me all at once. There was so much to ask about this. But how would my brain organise the questions by importance and/or relevance?
My response, when it came, was clearly just an emotional reflex. "I suppose he lets the kid off early once a week to come and sort you out too?"
She lowered her head now and averted her eyes. "No, he doesn't let the kid off early. Reece doesn't work there, he was just on work experience with them. He's in his last year at school."
I narrowed my eyes. "And how do you know so much about him?"
"He told me."
"He does come round here, doesn't he?"
She looked up at me now, her eyes meeting mine unashamedly. "School finishes at just after three, and he is here by half past. We have plenty of time, though he's usually on his way out by four." Preempting the next question, she added: "Once a week usually, sometimes twice."
I felt sick. "Is there anyone else fucking you?"
She shook her head. "Just the ones you wanted me to fuck in the first place."
"The whole idea was for me to be there, to watch - not to go about it all behind my back."
"How the hell am I supposed to know what the rules are? We never discussed this - you just set it up so that it would happen. You starve me of sex for six months, then tell me you're taking me out, that something special is happening... I thought you were going to ask me to marry you! But no - instead, you told me that I had to fool around with some other guy or we'd break up. Then you just walked out of the pub and left me. I sat there, heartbroken, feeling so fucking stupid and worthless and low.
"When Lee actually started giving me attention that night, I thought, Why not? I planned to go home with him out of spite - then come back the next day, pack up my things, move out. But I couldn't go through with it. I loved you too much and I couldn't go behind your back, so I brought him back here to see if you still wanted it to happen. And you clearly did. When he invited his other friends, I wasn't sure if that was something you'd set up somehow. But you didn't say no, didn't stop it. So again: Why not?
"You've barely spoken to me since this started. You told me it was the only way to keep our relationship alive, but it's destroyed it completely. We don't even sleep in the same room anymore. You've never told me if you enjoyed any of this, if I was going too far or not far enough. You never told me what you wanted, so I thought for once in my life I'd just get on and do the things I wanted to do. New things. Different things."
I listened to the whole monologue with no idea how I would respond. Should I be angry? Hurt? Should I offer to try to fix things, see if we could patch it up somehow?
My response, when it finally came, was a surprise for both of us: "When's the next time the kid will be round after school? I want to watch you fuck him."
She sighed. "You want to watch me fuck Reece? Yeah, fine, whatever. You don't want to talk about the rest of it?"
"Let me watch you first, then we can talk about the rest of it."
She rolled her eyes. "He's coming tomorrow. But he's shy. He won't like having you here while we do it."
"I'll hide in the wardrobe."
She nodded. "Fine."
I spent the rest of the evening emptying out the wardrobe, finding the perfect position for it so that I had a clear view of the bed through the gap in the doors. I was tired when that was done and I lay on the bed and fell asleep. I woke groggily a few hours later when Harriet came up to bed.
Not thinking, I quickly undressed and got back into bed beside her. She said nothing. I was asleep again within seconds.
#
I was instantly erect when I woke up next to her the next morning. It all came back to me, all the things we had said and the thought of what was planned for later in the day.
I went downstairs and had breakfast, then called in sick for work. Harriet came down a few minutes later - she also had the day off - and the two of us ate breakfast together in silence. Last night was the first time in months that we'd slept in the same bed. Neither of us mentioned it.
Nor did either of us mention the plan for today. Harriet went out to do some errands in the morning, somehow managing to stay out until nearly 2pm. I sat indoors, slumped on the sofa in front of the TV, my mind whirring - wondering what was going to happen, what I was going to see, whether Harriet would enjoy herself as much with Reece as she did with Lee.
My erection stayed constant, primed, throughout the morning.
Harriet rushed in just before two, a shopping bag dangling from her arm. She unpacked and put the things away, then pulled out a plastic tub containing a cheap ready-made salad. She ate it quickly, then threw away the packaging, washed and dried the fork, and came to the living room doorway.
"I'm going to get ready now," she said, and then went upstairs.
I followed.
For the next hour and a half, I watched her work through her beauty regime. A long soak in the bath, oils and moisturisers and face masks - scrubbing her skin so hard that she was almost rubbed raw, and bright red from the heat of the bath. She clipped her nails, trimmed her bush (it was always short now - ready for action, I suppose). Then she blow-dried her hair, leaving it long and luscious and lolling around her shoulders.
She took no notice of me watching her.
She applied a little makeup and sprayed herself generously in perfume. Something sweet and light. Nice. Then came the underwear. She went to her chest of drawers and squatted to the bottom one. She slid it open and pulled out a pink matching bra and panties set, resting on a hanger, unopened. Then she reached in with her other hand and pulled out the same thing, this time in white; and then again, in black.
She turned to face me and held up the pink set in front of her, then the white, then the black. She didn't say a word.
"Pink," I said.
She nodded and smiled, then put the other two back. She slipped the panties on and pulled them up her legs, slowly, savouring the moment. Then she latched the bra around her chest, fixing her breasts in place, contained but bulging seductively in the cups. She wrapped her dressing gown around her, then sat on the bed. She pulled out her phone and began playing with it with her newly-manicured fingers (which she must have had done when she went out this morning, I thought).
I looked at my watch. Three-thirty. He would be here soon.
"He'll ring the doorbell when he's here?" I asked her. She nodded without looking up. Silly question. I got up and went to the bathroom for a piss - which was difficult, considering the unfailing, rubbery erection I'd had since this morning (and which had no chance of going away).
Then I went to the spare room, sat on the edge of the bed, and waited. I couldn't bear to sit in the room with her. She looked too perfect in that pretty pink underwear. I took long, deep breaths. Images flew through my brain and I tried not to let them overpower me.
The doorbell rang. I stood up and undressed, quickly, leaving myself in just my boxers.
I heard Harriet leave the bedroom and make her way downstairs to let them in, and while she was gone I moved into the bedroom. I climbed into the wardrobe and shut the doors. The gap between them afforded enough room that I was able to see the bed. I was close enough that I would see every detail - smell every detail too, if I wanted.
I heard the front door open, then close again. There were voices, and then footsteps on the stairs.
Harriet came into the room with Reece behind her. I recognised him from the last time. He was only a few months older, but somehow he looked more mature than before. Context, I thought; last time he had been with three middle-aged men.
Or maybe it was just this - all the sex he'd had with Harriet had matured him.
Then behind him, another boy came into the bedroom. The same age, but didn't look even nearly as mature. A mop of curly blond hair jittered nervously on the top of his head.
A friend from school, I thought, staring.
Reece introduced him: "This is Miles. He's in my class at school and he was keen to meet you."
I goggled. What was happening?
"Well, that's very nice," Harriet said. She didn't seem at all embarrassed to be standing in front of this new boy in just a thin gown and underwear. "It's lovely to meet you, Miles."
The boy blushed crimson. "It's g-great to meet y-you too."
None of this was part of the script. Harriet told them to wait, then left the bedroom. The two boys turned to each other and grinned.
"She's gorgeous!" Miles said.
Reece nodded. "Tell me about it. She's really nice too, really cool - you'll see. Just follow my lead."