Saturday 6th April 2019

It was Saturday morning and I was groggy and tired, looking forward to forgetting all about that bastard Luther and my marital difficulties, looking forward to seeing Veronica. The only slight fly in the ointment being that Luther was her boss – but working out that tricky knot could wait for another day. The fact Luther seemed so intent on screwing up my marriage meant he’d not been interested in screwing up things between me and Veronica – at least not for now.

But when I woke up and reached out to turn off my phone alarm, the message I read knocked all my plans to dust. There on my phone was a message from Jill, the first message I’d received from my wife in nearly three weeks.

‘I’ve done a lot of thinking, like you asked. I love you and want our marriage to work. Let’s meet at home and talk. Love Jill xxx’

I was confused and disoriented. Despite what Charlotte had told me, the lack of contact from Jill combined and the damage done by Luther’s videos meant I’d been at the point of virtually giving up all hope.

But then, after nothing for three weeks, totally out of the blue, this message arrived. A message that was clear and to the point. In the last few weeks, my spirits had become so low that I immediately suspected another trick from Luther – maybe another turning of the screw to try and break my spirit.

Staring at the terse words of the message purportedly from Jill, I knew I had to call her before I set off home – only hearing her say the words would make me believe this wasn’t some trick.

“Hi, honey” she answered nervously. “Did you get my message?”

“Yeah, I got the message. Just thought I better ring and check, make sure it wasn’t that bastard you work for, playing a sick joke again.”

“Don’t be like that, honey,” Jill shot back, smart enough not to offer a longer defense.

“It’s definitely from me,” she giggled nervously. “And I meant every word, honey. How soon can you be home, so we can talk?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ten minutes later, I was parking in our driveway, happiness skipping in my heart, but somehow not really trusting myself to feel happy lest life, and Luther had another nasty surprise waiting just around the quarter.

As I entered the lounge, Jill and I looked at each other with a nervous shyness that seemed really weird for a couple who’d been married so long and raised three children. But that was the reality – no contact for three weeks and two people who were nervous about whether the next step would be a reconciliation or towards a lawyer’s office. Two people who knew they loved each other but who wondered if that was still enough.

“Honey,” was her single word of greeting, anything more too difficult as there was no social etiquette or small talk for a situation such as ours.

‘How was the motel, darling? As soulless and plasticky as normal?’ …. ‘Yes, it was fine, thanks for asking. And you? How were the guys you were screwing, you know, when you should have been calling me? Were they good lays? I do hope so ….’

You see our problem.

But after a painfully long silence, it was me who managed to move things forward.

“Jill, you said in your text that you want our marriage to work. Could you tell me a bit more?” I tried to make my voice not sound too hard and too business-like. But I knew I only half achieved this, and I felt bad (as I always did) when Jill winced.

“Sorry,” I said as I sat down next to Jill, for the first time smiling at the woman I loved but who had hurt me and made me doubt so much. “Why don’t you start, if that’s okay, and then we can take it from there, okay?”

“Okay?” she smiled back, seeing less of the hard-faced inquisitor and more the man who loved her and with whom she’d raised three children.

Still full of nerves, she locked her eyes onto mine and started explaining.

“Dave, honey, I’ve done a lot of thinking the last three weeks. Just because it’s taken me three weeks to work things out, I wouldn’t want you to think I don’t love you, or that I’m some callous bitch who’s not aware of how you’re hurting and how hard it’s been for you to wait.”

She smiled a nervous smile at me, pleased that she could see my love for her in my face. “And yes, in case you’re wondering, of course, Charlotte told me every question you asked and all the things the two of you talked about. She’s been a good friend to both of us, through all of this. And that’s how I know just how hard this thing has been for you. I’d have known it anyway, but what Charlotte told me just made me realize just how hard it was for you”

Another nervous smile. “And I’m sorry for that, truly sorry, Dave. I love you and always will and hate it whenever I cause you pain. But I had to find out what I truly wanted. To be totally sure, because I knew if I screwed up and went back on my word, then it would break your heart and we’d be finished. Be finished forever.”

The woman who’d hurt me so much, the woman who was my soul mate and best friend reached across and grasped my hand. “That’s why I needed to be sure, that’s why it took so long. But now I’m sure. After all the ups and downs, all the games, all the distractions, I’m sure I know what I really want, honey. And what I want is you, darling. What I want is you, you and me, and our family and marriage.”

There were tears in her eyes as she laid it out for me, her words delivered between sniffles of emotion, my own eyes starting to get watery just like Jill’s.

“Dave, honey. I’ll not pretend that I’ll not miss some of the things I love with Malcolm and Callan. I’ll not pretend that I don’t love them – I love you and respect you too much to pretend or hide these things. But after the last three weeks, I’m totally certain in my heart and soul that I want you, Dave. And if that means I have to give up two other men and the feelings I have for them, and that I have to give up all the things I enjoy with them, then so be it. That’s a price that’s worth paying. I’ll miss it, miss them. But it’s a decision that I know I want to take – because if these three weeks have taught me one thing, it’s that I can’t and don’t want to live without you.”

By the time Jill got to the end of her heartfelt sharing of all the thoughts and emotions she’d been through and the decisions, she’d made I was a nervous wreck. Blubbing away like a baby, aware that my own reactions and tears were just making Jill’s tears and sobbing ten times worse.

In the end, we gave up with words, just wanting to hold each other and cry. Two people re-united, when they’d both wondered if this would ever happen again, now experiencing the most intense of emotional releases. The equivalent of a deathbed miracle cure, something not expected, and something that was making us as euphoric as it’s possible for a person to be.

Talking about it later, neither Jill nor I had the faintest idea of how long we just clung to each other and cried. It could have been five minutes, it could have been an hour. We had no idea. But when it was finally over, we pulled back from our tight embrace and just gazed into each other’s tear-stained faces. Each hardly able to believe we’d come through the storm, come through the night, and were still intact as a couple, rather than heading onto the rocks that would have smashed and wrecked our marriage.

Any couple who’ve been through anything like that will tell you that you don’t go from the emotional intensive care ward and jump straight into bed. Life just isn’t like that – you can’t go straight from life-support to a lust-fueled frenzy.

Instead, we just gazed at each other, occasionally one of us wanting a hug, as if we couldn’t quite believe it wasn’t all just a dream. With the hugs slowly having soft kisses and spurts of conversation as companions. With maybe an hour or two of this slow relationship triage being needed before the nature of our touches and kisses told us both that we were ready for more. The ready for more being a wonderful explosion of emotions and physical pleasures as I was the one who led Jill by the hand upstairs to a bedroom that for once felt it belonged just to us, with no shadows or spirits of past events to intimidate or poison the experience.

As Jill and I slowly removed each other’s clothes, even after twenty-plus years together as a couple, there was an excitement and newness about us as a couple, together again as lovers for what seemed like the first time in forever. I’m not an overly religious man, but the word that kept bubbling into my head was ‘born-again’ – it was like our marriage and physical union was rising pure and clean from one of those Bible-belt full-body baptistries. And with this freshness, newness, and purity the physical experience between Jill and me was bound to be overpowering and beyond anything, we’d known before. What would my literature-loving wife have called it – Paradise Regained, when we’d both maybe thought Paradise Lost was the more likely engraving on our wedding stone.

The physical mechanics of what happened between Jill and me over the next few hours are hardly important. What was important was the joy and closeness we felt between us. Our excitement as if we were lovestruck and fresh-faced Romeo and Juliet, fired up by the barriers overcome and only with eyes for each other. Other partners, other lovers a foreign land that didn’t interest us.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the next few hours, we lost ourselves in the pleasures of being husband and wife, boyfriend and girlfriend, transported fully back a quarter-century when we’d spend whole days in bed – mixing spiritual and physical love in a ying-yang mix that swirled and never seemed to end.

Having Jill’s pussy enveloping my cock felt wonderful, and although thoughts of her other partners and of Veronica tried to intrude, I easily kept them at bay as I luxuriated in the feel of the soft flesh of Jill’s inner thighs on my flanks and own legs. I gazed into her face as if I was back in the tiny bedroom we first shared, not seeing the mother and grandmother, instead, seeing the woman. The woman from then, the woman from now who had returned to me having resisted the most extreme of temptations. Temptations that, if I were honest, would have dragged away a woman who loved me less – although I’d not thought so charitably about Jill these last few days.

I loved being able to reach out, stroke, and squeeze my woman’s big boobs. Breasts that had been so full with milk for our three hungry infants, breasts whose nipples had so often been sore and painful as she suffered the discomfort to give our three the best of starts in life. Breasts that since that day had both aroused and comforted me, but breasts I’d encouraged Jill to use to titillate, to share with other men – so nearly paying the ultimate price.

I loved how they wobbled or bounced, swung in time with thrusts, or softly cushioned my chest – each unique and wonderful, each different depending on how we’d arranged our bodies.

But best of all was gazing into her face or seeing her eyes screwed shut as she made those moans and groans that told me she was close. Our deep love expressed as I lapped at her unfaithful but returned pussy, or expressed in the unique act of cumming together as I gave and she took my essence. Even both knowing the little swimmers were absent, it was still a magical moment for both of us. A moment we enjoyed three times before we finally decided to own up to our age – or at least when one of us did, no longer to stiffen and pump iron any more today.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a truly wonderful day, the only person I felt sorry for was Veronica, about whom I occasionally felt guilty thoughts sweep into my mind. But apart from this, it had been a day made in heaven. The day made to restore my faith in life, in justice, in Jill and me and our marriage.

But as an exhausted husband and a satisfied and replete wife lay there cuddling, something else started seeping back into our lives and my heart. Inevitably sparked by some half-formed thoughts and questions Jill shared.

“Dave, honey, I really want our marriage to work.”

Even before Jill had finished her nine words, my hackles were up, my antenna alert to danger. It was nothing Jill had said – it was the intonation of her voice, a voice just a little too on edge and taut to be about to say something normal.

“But, honey, I was just wondering what’s a sensible speed for me to try and go cold turkey. What’s the best balance between making more room for me and you and making sure I don’t go cold turkey too quickly?”

She’d used the most roundabout wording, Jill’s favored language, but she’d only edged the pain down a tiny bit. I just looked wide-eyed at her, as if I couldn’t believe her words. As if I was looking at a double-headed beast or a talking horse – my look totally disbelieving at what I’d just heard.

Jill knew she had to do some fast-talking. “I was just thinking, honey, that for both of us it would make sense if we both changed things gradually, like in a phased way, to be fair to Veronica and the guys.”

I just looked at her – angry that she’d used Veronica as cover for her own desires. My five-second sullen stare delivered the right message, the embarrassed look on Jill’s face told me she got it.

“Try again, Jill. Only this time, leave Veronica out of it and just be honest with and straight with me. If we’re going to try and make a go of things, we both need to be totally honest with each other.”

Jill’s look of embarrassment didn’t diminish any, but with blushing cheeks at least she started being a bit more honest. “Sorry, honey. And sorry to have brought Veronica in it – she didn’t deserve that. It’s just I’m embarrassed to admit it, and I’m scared stiff that I’ll lose you again. What I meant was that I hoped you let me gradually wind things down with Malcolm and Callan. Partly for me, and partly for them.”

The silence returned, me staring sternly, Jill staring with a look of shame. At least after her false start, she’d finally started being more open and honest.

I was about to speak, but Jill overcame her nerves and beat me to the punch.

“Look, cards on the table, honey. If you ask me to go cold turkey a one hundred percent on day one, I’ll try my best, because I’m scared witless of losing you. What I’m trying to say is that I think it would be better and more realistic to slowly ease back, bit by bit.”

I sighed deeply – unsure whether what I was hearing was Jill just being realistic or Jill going back on the spirit of her text and on the spirit of the reconciliation we’d enjoyed the last few hours. Looking into her blushing face, and for the sake of all our years and our family, I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“Okay, Jill. I have to say I’m more than a little surprised by what you’re saying. It’s not exactly what I expected when you texted me earlier. And I’m not for a moment saying I agree, but help me out here, what exactly are you suggesting here? How gradual is gradually? Do you have something in mind?”

The tension and stress in Jill’s face slackened off a little.

“Honey, like I said, if you ask me to go totally cold turkey, I’ll try my best. But if you’re okay with it, I was thinking to ease back gradually. Maybe start with just changing around the Saturday nights, so that we’re both home Saturday early afternoon and have most of the weekend together. And then after that, when everyone’s ready, make the Friday nights normal, so I’d just be with Malcolm and Callan on the two nights you’re in L.A. anyway. And then we can stop that as well – either when we move to L.A. or if we’re still here in Miami, when we feel it’s right.”

Jill looked at me – she’d laid out what she wanted, and now she was trying to work out my reaction.

And, knowing Jill as I did, although I had my suspicions, I knew in my heart she wasn’t playing me. Because the reasons my suspicions were wagging their antennae, was that Jill’s suggestion had put the faintest glimmer of life into my cuckold glans. I’d thought this little demon was dead and buried – six foot under, killed by the craziness our life had become and the harrowing pains of Luther’s overreaching.

But Jill’s words, and the life she described, showed the little pixie who had ruined my life had the faintest of pulses beating in his poisonous little chest.

I honestly wanted him gone from my life – but the little bastard had thrown down roots deep into my psyche, and as I looked at Jill from the change in her expression, I knew she was seeing a change in my own face. I knew she was seeing what I was frightened to admit, that after some complaining and negotiation, I’d agree to what Jill was suggesting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was only early on Sunday morning that I reflected back on what we’d agreed the previous night – before enjoying another pleasurable round of make-up sex.

Jill was still asleep, and as was my habit, I was looking out on the back yard, enjoying the relative cool and quiet of the early morning when I could think without distraction. As I thought through what we’d agreed, I had really mixed feelings.

The largest was a huge nervousness that Jill would never manage to move past step one in her disengagement plan. And that may be even worse, not only would she fail to reduce and finally disengage, her continued weekly enjoyment of Callan and Malcolm would act like a double vodka to an alcoholic and just encourage a flare-up that might finally cost us our marriage.

The fear was so great that the only reason I still planned to go along with Jill’s suggested withdrawal plan was that I knew how much she loved me and that I knew how much I’d still like to see Veronica – even just a little. With the third and most shameful reasons, I went along with that faint but still beating pulse of the little demon cuckold spirit in my soul. The spirit that told me just a little of what had hurt me so much would be okay. That Jill and I could control it between us.

As I considered all these warring thoughts and emotions, I felt philosophical – pretty sure that the road Jill was describing would be a bumpy and rocky one which we’d have to revisit if things turned in a direction we didn’t expect.

But the situation with Luther was one about which I felt decidedly unphilosophical.

I’d not had the emotional energy the previous night to raise the huge unresolved issue of Luther. But I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I was going to demand she stop working for Luther, as in so many ways he was the maggot at the core of many of our recent troubles.

When Jill finally joined me later, I was surprised how smoothly the conversation about Luther went. In fact, it went so smoothly that I was worried that it was the military equivalent of a rapid withdrawal to merely enable a terrible double pincer counter-attack later. But there was nothing I could do as Jill had agreed with my demand on this – and Luther hadn’t put up any obstacles when Jill had rung him and rather nervously told him that she needed to give her notice. He even agreed to Jill shortening her notice from three months to one month. My hyperactive paranoia reckoning this was why we had so easily agreed – reckoning that a month was plenty enough time to cause any further and maybe terminal mayhem.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We were at the start of the second week in April and if I took everything at face value Jill and I were on the glide path to restoring our marriage to a normal status – one we’d not enjoyed for the last year and a half.

And this was just as well as Jill and I would have to make a huge decision soon – whether to move to L.A. or to carry on with our bi-locational lifestyle. We still had just over a month before my company and I had agreed we’d come to an agreement on where I’d be based – but all the signs were starting to point towards L.A.

Not only was I finding all the travel and the time away from Jill something I didn’t want to endure, but also Oasis were beginning to make it clear to me that their preference was for me to be in L.A. full time, rather than just the half-week I was managing now.

Given everything that had happened between me and Jill, I wanted things to settle down more between us before sitting us both down to have the L.A. vs. Miami discussion.

And as the days of April slipped by, I felt that things were getting on more of an even keel for me and Jill. I loved the fact that not only did I have Mondays and Tuesdays with Jill, but that we now also had most of the weekends together. Jill was pretty good at keeping her Friday nights / Saturday mornings with Malcolm under control – she’d normally be home early afternoon Saturday, giving us six or seven hours together before she had to head to work as well as all of Sunday together.

This was a huge improvement and left me feeling really happy that her time with me was back at the center of Jill’s life. A world apart from when it felt like her time with me was a concession shoe-horned into her life between more exciting and enjoyable calls on her time, merely a concession to keep the old man happy while Jill happily played as Luther’s puppet on a string.

But now things were switched through a hundred-eighty degrees – Jill and I had four nights a week together and she only ‘saw’ Callan one night a week and Malcolm two nights a week, which would soon come down to be in line with Callan’s one night a week as well.

All told, I was a much happier hubby, the major two remaining bugbears being what this all meant for my relationship with Veronica and the fact that the man I’d come to despise was still in our lives.

I was glad Jill hadn’t put up a fight about quitting her job at the strip clubs, and about telling Luther she’d no longer pose for his internet venture, ‘www.hotwifejanencuckydan.com’. But even with Luther’s concession on her notice period, she’d still be beholden to him for the next month. Spending five nights a week from eight at night till two or three in the morning at his beck and call, in close proximity to her lover Malcolm.

This tore me up at all kinds of levels and worried me like hell. Things seemed good for now, but the last few months had taught me that Luther was a snake who always had some new and unforeseen trick up his sleeve to cause me heartbreak and to get Jill to do things that the Jill of our former lives would never have done in a million years.

So, I spent many an hour fantasizing about telling Luther to stick his job – demanding that Jill walk out immediately and not go back. And the only thing that stopped me demanding this wasn’t Jill’s attitude, because I think she’d have reluctantly agreed, rather it was fear of the leverage Luther had over us and also over Veronica.

I had no idea how many hours of video he had of Jill together with all kinds of guys. It probably ran into the hundreds of hours, and if I pissed him off, I had no doubts he’d use it to ruin our lives and reputations. And there was also the small matter of Veronica relying on him for her livelihood, needing her job working in The Pink Cabaret to pay the household bills and put food on the table for her and Haley. Maybe I could have helped out if Luther had cut up rough, but I can imagine how that would look to Jill.

So, all in all, through gritted teeth, I agreed to let Jill work her one month’s notice with Luther, feeling, in reality, I had little alternative. But every time I’d see Jill dress up and head out to work, I had a horrible knotted and twisting feeling in my stomach. Wondering what games Luther might try and play, as well of course worrying about the not insignificant question of what might happen between Jill and Malcolm during the time before she returned home to our bed.

But all through sharing our story I’ve tried to be honest – even when I know it paints me in the most unfavorable of lights. (Even when it might lead you to think of me as ‘Dickless Dave’.) So I won’t skirt over the other truth, that with things now feeling a lot more solid with Jill the cuckold monster who I’d thought dead was most definitely alive and was gaining strength with every passing day. Even though I hated knowing Jill was still overnighting three nights a week with her two lovers, and seeing her head out to the club in her classy-trashy ensemble, another part of me loved it. A dangerous little voice within telling me we’d returned things to the kind of balance we’d had when I’d enjoyed rather than hated what our lives had become.

After our Saturday reconciliation, Jill and I had enjoyed four whole days together – for us an unheard-of event these last few weeks – before I had to head to L.A. early on Wednesday. Knowing that while I was three thousand miles away Jill would be back in the club with Malcolm and sleeping in his bed that night when they’d finished work.

I guess I wasn’t hugely surprised when at nine P.M. I got a text from Luther.

‘Hey bud, sorry if I went too far. Knowing we’re on the back nine, as a peace offering, if you’d like a last chance to watch J & M together, let me know and I’ll send the link. If I don’t hear back, I’ll respect your privacy, Luther.’

His tone was apologetic and friendly – but I didn’t believe it for a minute. I took it to be the act I was sure it was.

But whatever his real motives and intentions might have been, he’d left me with a real dilemma. He was the hunt master trailing the smell of the fox in front of the hounds, knowing that the simple act of making the offer would raise my interest levels and make it much more difficult to resist his temptation and keep my self-respect intact.

Thirty-seven minutes.

That’s precisely how long I lasted before I gave in, the words I chose my last vestige of trying to retain some pride.

‘Like you say, we’re on the back nine, nearly over now. So yes, send me the link.’

Certainly, no please, or thank you or using of his first name – I still hated the guy for what I knew was in his heart and the pain and damage he’d caused us.

For his part, Luther continued his game – not lifting his mask of friendly civility to show what I knew really lurked beneath.

‘Dave, happy to oblige. Hoping we can still be friends when time’s allowed hurts to heal. Link is below, enjoy! Luther’

When I clicked on the link, I’m ashamed to admit my blood was up and my cock was already hard. In so many ways it felt like ‘the good old days’ because I knew I had Jill back and this made it safe to enjoy the vicarious thrills of watching her with another man.

It felt like an eternity since I’d enjoyed my kinky pleasure of watching Jill with either of her two men, rather than the three and a half weeks it actually was, but the length of time since I’d had my last fix just made me more needy and excited. My pulse racing as the link went live and showed Jill and Malcolm already in bed together at a time when they’d normally have still been in the club.

They were both naked on top of the bedsheets, and by the look of Jill’s pussy and the red blotches on her boobs I was pretty sure they’d already made love. Maybe that was the price I was paying for resisting Luther’s temptation for thirty-seven minutes, I’d missed their first fuck of the evening.

Their sexual hunger for each other temporarily satisfied, they were laying together cuddling, not having seen each other for several days they were half-way through a conversation. I had to think they’d already talked about things for some time while they were at the club together, but still, Malcolm had a sad look on his face as they talked some more.

“Jill, I just want you to know, I’ll always be here for you. You know how much I love you, and you know there’ll never be anyone else like you in my life. If you change your mind, or if things don’t work out with Dave, well, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be here for you. I’ll always love you.”

By the sounds of it, Malcolm’s grief had moved to step two, because I’m sure that at the club he’d probably spent most of the evening trying to get Jill to change her mind. But from his face and words, he’d not persuaded her and was now at the stage of enjoying their remaining time together and letting her know that he was always available. That as and when I screwed up or as and when my size queen wife’s need for big cock got the better of her he’d be ready and waiting – hard and erect to meet her need.

Jill just looked at him, almost with tears in her eyes, controlling her emotions and reaching out to tenderly touch his face.

“I’m so sorry, Malcolm. I wish I could be in two places at once, I wish there were two of me, because I do love you, and I wish we could steal away and be together. But I just can’t do that. I love Dave, I’ve never hidden that from you, you’ve always known I’ve got a husband and a family that I love. I’ll never forget you, or forget what we have, but Dave can’t cope with this anymore, so we have to bring it to an end.”

Jill went quiet, to let Malcolm take in her words, and she stroked his face again. “I do love you, you know. Please know that this has got nothing to do with how I feel about you. You, me, our love, this has all been very real for me. I love you deeply, Malcolm, but I have a husband and a family that I love as well.”

I’d never seen the giant black man look so emotional, so close to the edge of tears. “Jill, I understand, and I’m not going to try and change your mind. I love you and respect you too much for that. But promise me you’ll think about this. If you stay with me, you’ll still have your family. And Dave could be with Veronica – you know how much he loves her and how much Veronica and her daughter love and need Dave. If you stay with me, sure there may be some pain and hurt, but think of the excitement and new life you could have. Think about the future you could have, having it all. Don’t just look back, look to the future you know in your heart you want.”

It was Jill’s turn to be silent as she thought about what her giant black lover had just said – and the look on her face made me feel terribly frightened. A painful ache spreading from my gut as I realized how finely balanced some of the decisions Jill had made must have been. That’s what her face was telling me.

They seemed to keep this still, thoughtful pose between them for an absolute age, each extra second a new needle thrust through my gut. When they moved to touch and kiss each other I actually felt a sense of relief. Sex and physicality I could deal with, love and last-minute appeals to stay were kryptonite to my inner Superman.

At first, their touching was slow and gentle, like when you savor a fine wine, each sip treasured and stretched out. But before long that was changing to something more earthy and primal, as Jill moved onto her back and into position to accept her man. She may have agreed to wind down her relationships with both Callan and Malcolm (‘go cold turkey’ as she’d kept calling it), but at that moment I knew that Malcolm, not me was her man for the night. He, not me, was the man she wanted tonight as she spread her pale legs wide and welcomed his bulky form between her outstretched thighs.

It was so many weeks since I’d seen them together that I’d forgotten just how much of a giant he was, as he moved above Jill and virtually blocked her from my sight. His moment of penetration not seen but heard, Jill’s sharp cry and the movement of his ass telling me he was once again sinking his huge thick nine-inch cock into Jill’s body.

With Malcolm having cum in Jill once before, the lovemaking between the two of them lasted an age. Malcolm was like an artist, demonstrating the full range of his talents. Sometimes making love with the tender and patient touches of a Casanova. Other times pounding into Jill like an MMA fighter going at it until his rival submitted and surrendered. Whichever of the moods it was that took him, Jill would moan and sob and give it up. Her and me both losing track of the number of times she reached a sobbing and energy-sapping climax. A woman being well and truly carnally bred and satisfied. A mare being covered by a succession of stallions couldn’t have been more satisfied. At least, that was the thought generated by the dark and twisted inner recesses of my mind. A thought that troubled and excited me in equal measure.

Their lover’s dance, going for the best part of an hour now, was building to the ultimate climax now. I don’t know how many times Jill had cum, but the way Malcolm’s body was beginning to move told me he was getting towards the end.

And then, I felt like a fish out of water, struggling and wriggling with a hook through my mouth as the video feed went dead – only to replaced by the meanest and most addictive of texts from guess who.

‘Sorry D, pay per view! Hope you don’t mind, but you and me only got a few more weeks to wind each other up. The first P in PPV for you will be Friday night. Let me know if you want me to arrange streaming rights for you. Although as you’ll be with the beautiful Veronica on Friday nights, I’m sure the answer will be a big fat No. Either way, let me know. Until then, it’s been real, your tormentor-in-chief, Luther.’

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Much as I hated the guy, I had to admire his self-confidence and never-say-die attitude. I’d be glad when he was out of our lives, but I also knew a little part of me would miss him. I’d be like James Bond without a Blofeld, a Sherlock Holmes without a Moriarty. Or at least that’s what I told myself as I struggled to settle down and finally sleep. Knowing that Jill was three thousand miles away, in bed with a man she loved who was doing his damnedest to persuade her to change her mind. To dump me instead of dumping him.

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Despite Luther’s blandishments, that Friday night, I did manage to resist his temptations and blandishments. I was back from L.A. and with Veronica. The first real chance we’d had to be together since Jill had burst into my plans the previous weekend to spend time with Veronica when she’d texted me about wanting to make our marriage work.

I’d described the outline of Jill and my plans to her by phone, but we’d agreed not to discuss it properly until we could be together face-to-face, the first chance for this being Friday night. To his credit, or maybe it was part of his game, she’d spoken to Luther and he’d given her the night off with full pay so that we’d have more time than her normal two AM finish would have allowed.

So we were together from around ten PM onwards on Friday evening. Although during parts of that night I’d wished we’d had less, not more time together as it was an evening of heartache and guilt. For me, I had a life to look forward to, a life with Jill, so although I was hurting and feeling guilty, I had hope.

For Veronica, there was no such comfort. In fact, the opposite was true. At the moral and intellectual level, she got it. I’d never lied about not loving Jill or not putting Jill and our family first. She’d always known that. But at the practical, real-life level her experience of me and our time together had been very different. A woman often hurt by life, I knew she’d tried her best to not get ahead of herself in terms of her hopes for me and our relationship. But the truth she was a single mom who earned a living taking her clothes off and being groped, and she’d met and fallen in love with a guy who loved her right back and who adored her daughter.

And all of a sudden, this was being ripped away from her, the image of a Gorilla-grip plaster being ripped away from a hairy wound at the speed of light not beginning to describe the level of pain Veronica must have been feeling.

Our conversation was so hard – hard for me, but so much harder for her. And after about three hours of talking, I headed home. Home to an empty house as Jill would be with Malcolm tonight. Ending the night, sitting alone, nursing a sad glass of whiskey, feeling terrible guilt at the pain I’d caused. Knowing we’d ended up doing the right thing – agreeing to end the pain tonight. Jill could make per slow adjustment from being a shared wife, through her stages of cold turkey to being my faithful wife again. But for me and Veronica, that wasn’t to be the journey. We agreed that Veronica and Dave would end that night, because anything else was just too painful for her and me. But mainly for her.

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That difficult and painful evening with Veronica was Friday 12th April. Etched into my memory, after the way our talks and tears went, the last night I expected to spend with Veronica.

That Saturday morning, as I had a lonely breakfast while I waited for Jill to return from one of her last Friday nights with Malcolm, I reflected on how Jill’s glide path untangling herself from her lovers seemed to be going better for her than for me and Veronica. The optimist in me said this was a reflection of the relative depths of the three love affairs I was comparing. But then again, maybe other factors were at work.

This thought occurred to me time and again over the next two weeks. Luckily, my new job and the two to three days a week I needed to spend in L.A. acted as a major distraction. Because otherwise, I’d have been depressed by the fact that Veronica and me was nothing more than a sucking and empty wound in my soul, whereas I knew Jill’s swansong with her lovers was still going on. And from the video feeds Luther offered me and which, with no Veronica, I always watched I could clearly see that Jill was still enjoying both the emotional and physical closeness of her soon to be ex-lovers.

That sounds a little too self-absorbed and maudlin, which wasn’t how I was normally feeling. Because Jill stayed true to her word and after one final Friday night tryst with Malcolm, she was finally just seeing him once a week like she was seeing Callan, meaning I was like a pig in muck – enjoying the fullness of Friday night through Wednesday morning with my beloved Jill, just losing her for two nights a week when I was in L.A. and she was with her lovers.

These five two splits I could live with in some ways the perfect mix to keep the cuckold monster fed without risking our marriage which had already risked too many cliff-edge scenes to be healthy for any couple.

But my experiences of the last eighteen months should have taught me better, because just when I thought ‘it was safe to get back in the water’, I came home from a quick trip to the sops on Tuesday evening to see a set of cars outside my house that could only mean trouble for yours truly.