Ellen's Business Trip

When Ellen, my wife of twenty-three years, returned home from a business trip to Chicago, there was something different about her, something strange. She just wasn't acting like herself. I found out why after supper that night when she handed me a glass of Scotch and told me that there was something she needed to tell me.

"Something happened at Vickie's."

Vickie was Ellen's life long best friend. She lived in Chicago, so Ellen had stayed with Vickie and her husband while there. "Okay" I said.

"I never thought I'd ever have to tell you something like this, or that I would ever do what I did, gezzz, honey, I'm so very sorry." Her eyes welled up and tears began streaming down her face.

I went to her and hugged her and said in my most consoling voice, "It's okay. Don't torture yourself. Just tell me and get it over with."

"I was unfaithful." And she burst out bawling uncontrollably.

Of course, by that time, I knew it had to be something like that. I couldn't think of anything else that would have her so upset. I didn't really have time to think about it. Ellen, my wife, the woman I loved, and my best friend for so many years needed me to remain calm and help her through what she was feeling. There would be plenty of time for me to be hurt and upset later.

I handed her my glass and instead that she take a drink. "You met someone and things just a little carried away. Is that what happened?" I asked her after she'd calmed down a little.

She didn't answer other than with a shake of her head, so I asked "What then?"

"With Vickie and Carl . . ."

"I see." I lied. Actually, I didn't see at all. My mind was whirling in an attempt to find some meaning to her words.

Of course, to understand my inability to comprehend what she was trying to tell me, you need to know that Ellen is one of the most sexually conservative women I've ever known. She was a virgin when we got married. It had taken almost three years before she had learned to relax enough to enjoy receiving oral sex. It was another two years before she got me off with her mouth, and even then, she pulled away and didn't get even a taste of my cum. That was the extent of our sexual variety, even on the day she was making that startling confession.

I took a deep breath and did what any level-headed man who loves and adores his wife would do. I said "Dear, I want you to finish that drink—all of it. It will help you calm down. And then I want you to go up and take a shower. When you're finished and calmed down, you can tell me what happened. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be feeling right now, but I'm glad you told me. I'm sure we can get through this if we do it together."

"I love you so much." She said as she started to cry again.

"I know you do, and I love you. Now drink up and go take a shower."

"Okay." She sobbed.

* * *

I was sitting in the swing on the back patio when Ellen appeared. I was a little surprised to see a full glass of Scotch in her hand. She rarely drank, and when she did, it was usually a mild screwdriver. "Feeling better?"

"A little." She said as she sat down beside me in the swing.

"Do you think you can tell me about it now?"

"Yes, I need to. I need to tell you everything."

"Okay, whenever you're ready, take your time and start from the beginning."

I didn't look at her, but could see her out of the corner of my eye as she tipped up the glass and took a big drink of Scotch. Then, after she'd finished shuddering and was able, she began:

"It was my first night there. Jackie and I were just sitting in their backyard having an after-dinner glass of wine, and then another and then another. We were just talking about old times and laughing. Carl was out bowling. He's on a league. Anyway, I lost track of how many glasses of wine I'd had.

By the time Carl got home, I was very tipsy. It just snuck up on me, I guess. The next thing I knew, we were drinking Margaritas. I should have known better. I'm such an idiot."

"So you got drunk. You've never been able to drink."

"I know, that's why I should have known better. Anyway, Jackie suggested that we go for a swim. I told her I didn't have a suit and asked her if she had one I could borrow. We're close enough to the same size. But Vickie and Carl both just laughed and said that they never wore swimsuits. They preferred skinny-dipping."

"I can't see you doing that."

"Me either, and I told them that. So they just took off their clothes right there in front of me and went for a swim. I should have gone inside and went to bed right then, but I couldn't. I was . . . I just couldn't. I just sat there, watching them, and sipping more Margarita like a total idiot.

Every few minutes, one or both of them would get out of the water and walk right up to the table and take a drink from their glass, standing naked right there in front of me like it was nothing. Carl didn't even try to hide his . . . he was turned on."

"Hrm, I see."

"Yeah, so did I." She let out a little chuckle, which told me that the Scotch was calming her down—way down."

"They kept teasing me for being too shy to join them, telling me I was just being silly and that I should loosen up and have some fun. Of course, there was no way I was going to do that. I was really tipsy, but not totally smashed—not enough to do that. But watching them like that was having a strange effect on me. I started feeling really turned on, especially when they were standing in front of me like that.

I must have had two or three more Margaritas, and then finally, one time when Carl was still in the pool and Vickie was standing at the table insisting that I join them, I did. I can't believe I did it, but I did."

"So, you took off your clothes and went swimming with them?"

"Yes. But we weren't doing anything, just swimming and splashing each other like kids—just having fun. But after a while, it didn't bother me anymore—being naked in front of them. I mean, they were naked too, so it didn't seem like such a big deal after a while.

Before long, I didn't think anything about getting out of the water to go for another sip of my drink, and then even later, all three of us were just sitting at the table drinking more."

"And you were still naked?"

"Yes." She answered in a reverent tone, her remorse clearly evident. "Still naked and . . ."

"And what?" I prodded her.

"I loved it, David. God! I can't believe I'm saying it, but it's the truth. It made me feel so free and uninhibited and alive. Every nerve in my body was alive. I didn't have to be shy about being naked or seeing them naked. It all seemed so natural and okay.

Anyway, Jackie started teasing Carl about his erection, and telling me that she was going to have to take care of him before the night was over. And then she told me that he never got, in her words, 'a raging boner' like that when it was just the two of them skinny-dipping. She said me being there was causing it and that I should take that as a compliment. And then both of them began telling me how sexy my body looked, how nice my breasts were and things like that."

"They were playing you like a fiddle, Ellen. You do know that, don't you?"

"I know it now, but I didn't then. I don't know if it was the alcohol or the situation or what, but I really enjoyed what they were saying. It really turned me on and I didn't want them to stop. I wanted them to keep looking at me and saying those things. It made me feel good and special and sexy . . . especially sexy. God, I did feel sexy. I've never felt that way—not like that.

It wasn't long after that we started playing a little game—well, sort of a game. We took turns standing in front of the other two, and the two who were sitting down would have to say nice things about the one's body that was standing. We had to say everything we liked about it and why. It was fun after I got the hang of it, and got over being too shy to say things.

After we'd all taken a turn, and Vickie stood up for the second time, Carl started feeling of her breasts and saying how nice they felt. And then he told me it was my turn, and he pulled my hand up and placed it on one of her breasts and told me to describe how it felt.

Anyway, it wasn't long before they were both doing the same thing to me, and then me and Vickie were doing it to Carl . . ."

"I get where the game is going, El. Now just tell me where it ended."

"You won't believe me if I just tell you like that. You won't believe that I could ever do those things. I don't believe I did those things, so how could you?"

"You were drunk."

"In the beginning, yes. That's a handy excuse. But I wasn't drunk the next morning or the next night. I can't blame what I did on being drunk those times."

"Okay, I'm sure I can guess the rest."

"No, David, you can't . . . not in a million years, you can't."

I turned to look at her for the first time, studying her face. I was surprised when she didn't look away. She boldly met my stare and resisted the urge to divert her eyes as she whispered "you can't".

"I know what a threesome is, El. I've never been in one, but I can imagine what goes on."

I was taken aback when she began slowly shaking her head, you can't imagine . . . not all of it."

"It can't be that bad." I assured her. "Just tell me and get it over with."

Her whole body slumped and she finally looked away, "You don't want to hear all of it. You'll never be able to look at me the same way again."

"If you don't tell me, I'll always wonder, and I'm sure my imagination will come up with things that are a lot worse than what you actually did."

But again she shook her head slowly, "No . . . it won't. It can't."

"Don't bet on it." I said, my tone reflecting my frustration for the first time.

"You really want to know all of it?" She asked in a sad, resigned voice.

"Yes, I need to know, and then we can start working past it."

She sighed and mumbled "Would your imagination dream up me sticking my tongue in Vickie's ass while Carl fucked me?"

Her words hit me like a sledgehammer. I couldn't respond, so I didn't try.

"Would your imagination dream up me with a mouthful of Carl's cum, sharing it with Vickie while we French kissed?"

Holy Shit! I was speechless.

"Would your imagination dream up me sucking Carl's cum out of Vickie's ass? Would it dream up me fucking Vickie with a strap on dildo while Carl fucked me in the ass? Would it dream up your wife on her knees in the bathtub letting Vickie and then Carl urinate all over her, including on her face and into her mouth? Is that enough, or do you want me to go on?"

I was a zombie by the time she asked that question. I felt myself rise out of the swing and look down at her, her defiant eyes meeting mine without blinking. I uttered the only words I could "And you weren't drunk?" She shook her head.

I didn't know how to respond, so I turned and went into the house. I needed a drink. Hell, I needed a lot of drinks.

* * *

I was sitting in the den guzzling Scotch when Ellen appeared in the doorway. "There's one more thing I have to tell you."

"There's more?" I asked, totally dumfounded.

"Yes, just one more thing, but it's worse than anything I've told you so far."

"I can't imagine what could possibly be--"

"I loved it, David . . . all of it." And she turned and left without waiting for me to respond.

* * * The End * * *