This story has very little sex. Please be forewarned.
Neil always recollected how, on that Thursday evening, even before he'd known how his fate had already changed, he'd sensed the transformation as he walked in the door.
Esther's auto was parked outside in the short driveway as he approached their urban home, and so he parked on the street, tightly packed between a Chevy and a Honda, and limped across the street, up the three wooden steps to his porch and then four paces to the front door. Strangely, it was locked. Could it be that Esther had walked to visit a neighbor? Unlikely, it had been a running battle all through their thirty-two years of togetherness; Esther simply didn't lock the door unless she was going someplace in her automobile.
The foyer was dim, the only luminescence entering the room from the street light through the curtained window, the first floor felt empty, and a brief foray on his injured ankle showed him nothing to disprove his initial perception. Damn that hurt, he thought as he stepped on a threshold between the den and the downstairs toilet. He'd really wrenched his leg when he'd fallen three feet off the ladder. The boss wanted to take him to the Emergency Room, but he'd resisted, and they'd made him go home to rest the leg. It was the first time he'd ever taken any unplanned time off in over a year and a half working part time for the store in the mall. Neil grabbed two Advils from the medicine chest, popped them into his mouth and drew a glass of water from the tap.
Where could Esther be? This seemed so unlike her. He turned a light on in the den, began to sift through the day's mail. Maybe she'd gone out with a girlfriend who'd picked her up, he considered, maybe . . . Suddenly, he heard three abrupt bumps, apparently from the second floor, and then he thought he heard his wife's giggle, faintly, from a distance. Almost he called out, "Esther?" but then - he never comprehended why not - he resisted the impulse and remained mute. He stood still, attempting to discern if his senses were playing a trick on him in the empty house, and half a minute later, there were more bumps, as if someone was steadily hammering a piece of wood against a wall. This required investigation.
He climbed the front stairs gingerly on his strained leg, and when he reached the landing he found the hallway to be as dark as the first floor, illuminated only by a glint from the guest bedroom around the corner. The bumps came more regularly, in a rhythmic beating, and suddenly he sensed, rather than heard, a sharp feminine whimper pulsing in time with the thuds. When he reflected on the discovery, he knew he hadn't made any conscious effort to be silent, but neither had he done anything to make any noises other than the creaks that result from walking on carpet in an older home.
He approached the guest room, an open door, and then he viewed the bed. Reclining upon it, in profile, was his wife, her blonde hair swishing bestride her flushed face, her head resting on a pillow, her substantial breasts crowned with tawny aureoles and gently tumescent nipples. Her legs were folded upward at the hips, touching her abdomen, and spread wide. Between those limbs, facing her, also entirely unclothed, was a portly gentleman kneeling on the mattress, hairy at the chest and legs. It was entirely too obvious the man's penis was firmly inserted within Esther's sex, and as he thrust the rod into the woman, the bed moved, resulting in first the thumping of the bedstead against the wall, and secondly an excitation in the wife's body, precipitating the groans from the woman, timed with the rhythm of the strokes.
If either turned their head they would have seen Neil, but Esther's eyelids were pulled tight in indulgence, and the man, who's body was slightly askew to the door, seemed much too intent upon his quest. Neil witnessed the infidelity, somehow unwilling to disturb the proceedings, pulled back into the shadows, but remained in position to observe the couple's sport. Further examination revealed the man's left hand was adorned with a golden wedding band, and the cock he was using to pleasure the woman was sheathed in latex. Neil had no idea who he was, couldn't ever remember meeting such a person, wondered under what circumstances he'd met Esther.
The woman shifted slightly, pulled her legs tighter to her chest resulting in a perfect target for the man's penetration, and her moaning became earnest; from the thousands of times he'd possessed that body, Neil recognized she was in a state of orgasm, responding to the plunges of the man within her. Seconds later the man moved his hands from her hips to a more supportive posture on each side of her shoulders, stretched himself, and with visceral grunts stiffened. Neil discerned this stranger's seed was being released, spurt after spurt, deep within the woman below him.
The movement of the lovers slowed, and before they could realize they'd been spied upon, Neil, as quietly as possible, backed from the iniquitous den and departed down the steps and from the house, got behind the steering wheel of his car. He knew he needed to get away, run from the new reality of his life, and he suddenly recognized he was terribly parched. He drove to a convenience store, poured himself a frozen drink, and surprised himself, when the cashier asked, "How are you?" by responding, "Fine." 'Fine' was the last word, he realized, that described either his physical or emotional state.
What to do now, he wondered. He couldn't go home, not yet, he wasn't going to interrupt the couple. As he drove he wondered, what they they doing? After they'd finished, did they dress, or did they lay together for a time, perhaps regaining their strength for another tryst? It really didn't matter, did it? The specifics of the act seemed far less important than the actuality of it. Neil drove the car to a glen by the side of a river, parked in the darkness, allowed his mind to reflect on the transmuted state of affairs.
Neil replayed the movie his mind had recorded. How Esther fondled her partner's arms and chest, assuming the intent manner that indicated her pleasure at the circumstance, the way she'd encouraged him to implant the intruding cock as thoroughly as possible. The man's phallus seemed no larger than average; of course, Neil had not been able to observe if he was circumcised or not since the thing hadn't disgorged itself from its repository. He wondered at how intent the man seemed to be at his expedition into Esther's body, for Neil had never witnessed another couple making love. Was it love? Was his wife, Esther, in love with this man she'd allowed to infiltrate the most private part of her body? Or was it a simple amusement, a diversion meant only to satisfy a craving that he, Neil, was unable to quench?
And he wondered at his own physical reaction. Surprisingly, he hadn't been particularly outraged or angered. In fact, there was some scrap of him that actually savored the appalling tableau. He was dumbfounded that while he viewed the transgression, he'd been in a state of sexual agitation, his own tool rigid as he watched another man master the body he'd previously believed belonged only to him. And now, sitting in the darkness, watching the nearly full moon reflecting into the river, he was again inflamed. He rubbed the annoying tool through his trousers, considered unzipping and kneading the thing until he also disgorged, but denied himself the torture of self-abuse.
Why wasn't he angry, he wondered. His wife was unfaithful, an adulteress! Was it because they'd been 'unfaithful' to each other many times in their fantasies? It was typical for them to talk about other potential partners as a form of foreplay. Esther enthusiastically participated in the reverie, telling Neil over the years of her daydreams about other men, real and imaginary, and Neil willingly played the part of these other debauchers. And Neil realized this wasn't the only other man who'd ever had her, for in their honeymoon bed neither was virginal, each of them having had multiple mates prior to meeting each other as young adults. Was it so different that someone screwed her after the vows, when others did it before?
Neil remembered a throw-away line he'd once given a chum in a bar when he'd been asked what he would do if he found Esther in bed with someone else: "Depending on the circumstances, I'd either ignore it, congratulate her, or join in." And now, Neil needed to make a choice between the three. Actually there was one additional choice, but he wasn't going to make a scene, threaten Esther with a divorce.
Oh, they would have to discuss it. One way or another, Neil would have to let Esther know he was aware of her infidelity, and she would have to answer some hard questions. Was this her first disloyalty, or were there other men before this one? How long had her affair (affairs?) been going on? Did she intend to continue it, now that she'd been ensnared in the transgression?
Indeed, he wondered how Esther wanted him to act. If he took a broadminded view of it, would she tolerate indiscretions of his own? He'd never actually done anything, he'd been technically faithful, but there'd been others. Neil's recalled the coworker who'd gotten divorced, flirted with him at the office, and once after drinks she'd invited him up for 'coffee' after he'd driven her home. He knew then that if he'd accepted, the two would have sex, and he declined only because he thought it was the 'honorable' thing to do. He'd always regretted his decision, and now, under the current circumstances, he lamented the choice even more.
He thought again to a time, after their marriage but before children were born, when they'd been friends with a rather wild couple. One drunken evening the four played strip poker, Esther was down to her panties and the couples swapped partners for a little kissing and fondling. Neil always felt that, with a bit of encouragement or, perhaps, a little less cowardice, it would have gone all the way. But somehow, it stopped before any actual coitus between strange mates occurred. Later, he'd discussed the episode with Esther and she'd confessed she'd been watching and waiting for Neil to take the other woman. If he had, she asserted, yes, she would have willingly let that other man have her. And, in retrospect, Neil didn't think any lasting harm would have been done to their relationship. But, for one reason or another, even though they met often with the other pair, another opening never presented itself, and so they'd remained faithful to each other. Or at least, Neil had. With Esther, not so much, apparently.
Neil wondered if Esther would be interested in wife-swapping at this stage of their life. He'd heard tales of it, and figured if they decided to try something like that, there must be ways to contact other like-minded couples. The Internet made such things so easy, he imagined. But, perhaps, this was a serious thing for Esther, and casual sleeping around might be repulsive to her. And, really, he didn't quite know how he would take to it, either.
Neil looked at the dashboard clock, realized it was now about the time he would normally arrive home. With a resolution not to bring up the information he was now in possession of, he drove the mile or so to his abode, parked in the same spot he'd occupied before, strode gimpily through that same door he'd entered not two hours previously. This time, however, the house was bright with lights, the entrance unlocked. He found Esther in the den, garbed in slacks and simple white blouse, no external emblem to indicate she was a hussy.
"Oh, you're home!" she cried, then, "You're limping. What's wrong?"
"I just twisted my ankle at work. No big deal."
"Are you sure, let me look at it."
"No, it's fine, really." He bent, as he always did, and put his lips to hers. He tasted her a whit longer than he normally did, searching for a remnant of her recent lewd collaborator, finding no trace but a tang of toothpaste. With a touch of the neck, he found cleansed skin, perceived a hint of moisture in the hair around her shoulder. Had she showered his scent away? The spousal kiss turned, with her willing participation, into one of common lust, the couple's cue sex was in the offing. Neil found, once again, that he wasn't repulsed at the thought that someone else had pilfered her body, but instead discovered it was an aphrodisiac.
"My, my," Esther allowed, "I think you want something."
"I do. Why don't you go upstairs, put something on. I'll be there in a few moments. Would you like me to make a drink?"
"A glass of the wine that's open would be wonderful. Don't be too long," she crooned.
Neil watched her ascend the steps, her full rump swinging seductively. In the kitchen, he collected flutes from the cupboard, realized as he was splashing the beverage the bottle, as far as he remembered, had been unopened when he went to work. Had she nakedly shared half a bottle with her lover?
Upstairs, he detoured to the guest room, that nest of vice, and found no trace remaining of the perversion he'd witnessed. The bedspread, the one that had been under her back, her buttocks, his knees, was smoothed, leaving no proof of the masquerade. No shoes were peeking from under the daybed, no condom wrapper lay discarded in the waste can. What did she do with that particular piece of evidence, he wondered. Just how careful had she been this time, other times?
Entering the master suite, he found her in a favorite teal babydoll. worn often for Neil's visual amusement. Had she garbed herself in it for the other man, too? Again, no matter, Neil was now aching for this impure woman. Down onto the bed he dragged her, not that she resisted. The opening kisses, the familiar foreplay felt no different to Neil than it had the last time he'd taken her, before he knew of her injudiciousness. When he performed cunnilingus upon her secret place, she enthusiastically spread her legs to make it easier for him, and even though he knew the other man had been there only a short time earlier, he sucked on the proffered clitoris, plunged his tongue into her vulva. A pungency seemed to invade it tonight, a displeasing sharpness of latex. He knew, of course, it was the residue of the condom that wrapped the prick that had been there earlier. Was this the first time he'd ever tasted such a flavor, he wondered, or was it just that he'd been ignorant of sourness before?
Esther relished the artistry being performed on her, and since Neil fathomed every niche of that body, understood just what she desired in a lover, she reached the plateau easily, went over the edge once, twice, perhaps three times. He rose above her, kissing her navel and nipples during his journey, and then, in a position much the same as he'd witnessed before, skewered his wife of decades deeply, shoved his own implement inside the crevice, felt the warmth surround him, and, like the adulterer he followed, streamed his own seed into the gulch of life. It took only seconds, just a few pushes, even quicker than the hurried, characteristic coupling the unadventurous lovers routinely engaged in.
Neil fell beside his wife, rolled onto his side and she, quite aware of the pattern of thirty years, turned away from him then waited for him to cuddle, his belly adjacent to her spine. "You seemed anxious. Is everything all right?"
"I'm fine," he assured her. "I've just been thinking, that's all."
"Do you really want to know?"
"Then, I've just been wondering if you might be thinking of having a lover. Someone other than me."
"What ever gave you that idea?" Esther sounded incredulous, but Neil, alert for nuances, realized she'd not denied her involvement.
"Nothing," Neil mislead. "There's a guy at work, he found out his wife was having an affair. I just couldn't help but think about you, that's all." He paused, holding Esther tightly, his hand stroking her belly, cupping a breast. Esther didn't reply. "If you were having an affair, I don't think I'd mind. If you were ever with someone else, I'd want you to tell me."
Another, very long pause. Finally, from deep within her larynx, she uttered, "Well . . ."