Happy Birthday, Sweetheart

In hindsight, it was pretty obvious that something was going on, but then I'm a typical guy in that sometimes you've got to smack me on the back of the head with a two by four to get my attention. I don't worry about much. I wonder if my team is gonna make the playoffs. I worry about my two girls, who've moved out to live on their own. And sometimes I have to remember important things, like picking up my wife, Mar, after work, because her lemon of a car is in the shop again. I had to do that, and if I forgot, I'd be in deep shit. We went directly from her office to Sharon and Bob's, her parents.

Each year, in mid-January, my in-laws invite the whole family over for a big meal to celebrate their two daughters' birthdays. They're only a week apart, so it makes sense to throw one party to celebrate both Lee's, which falls on the 14th and Mar's which falls on the 21st. Mar is short for Marilyn, by the way, and her sister, my sister-in law is Lee.

This year was no different except that Paul, Lee and Claude's son, was absent. He'd finished his degree and had entered the workforce last summer and was now working as a junior engineer at a mine in Brazil. Obviously too far to travel for a birthday party. Our two girls, Michelle and Heather, as I mentioned had recently moved out of the house to be on their own, but still lived in the small city where our folks has settled in the fifties.

An evening at Mar's parents' place was always an enjoyable one. As was usually the case, we started off with a glass or two of Bob's excellent homemade wine. Bob isn't of Italian heritage, but had grown up in a big city neighborhood where Italian was the first language, and had learned how to make a killer red from a neighbor, who must've been a master of the art. After the first couple of glasses the conversation flowed easily and laughter was the order of the evening.

After a half hour of gabbing and giggling, Sharon indicated that it was time to get herself into the kitchen. Everyone volunteered to help, and while some went off to perform their assignments, others waited to do tasks that were to be done just before dinner.

Sharon gave me a short list of items to bring up from the basement pantry, while Lee and Michelle helped out in the kitchen. I had no trouble finding the first two items, but the bottle of cranberry juice proved to be elusive and I was just about to head upstairs without it when I clearly heard Mar's familiar chuckle from just over my head. I looked around, and there it was. An open heating grate in the ductwork overhead. I went over the house layout in my head, and decided that I was immediately below the bathroom.

I could hear the shuffling of feet and then Mar spoke, "...nice and hard...".

A male voice, obviously Claude's, said, "... thinking about your hot little pussy."

"No pussy for you tonight, stud. Let's see what else I can...

There was more shuffling of feet, then a groan. "Oh, Jesus Christ, that feels good. ...suck it..."

I was stunned. My wife was sucking her brother-in-law's cock right over my head, and what's worse, they done more, judging by what I'd just heard.

In a flash of insight, the odd signs of the past several weeks became clear. The hang-ups, several times a week, whenever I answered the phone. The wrong numbers, or so she claimed, whenever Mar answered it. The numerous trips to visit with Lee after work, or in the evening. They'd been fucking, and I hadn't a clue.

"Oh fuck, I'm gonna come... Oh shit,here it comes, baby!"

"Son of a bitch!" I thought. "I'm gonna kill the prick."

I got halfway up the stairs when I stopped. "No, hold on." I thought to myself, "That'll just make this messier than it already is. I've gotta think..."

I'd been a scrapper as a teenager, drinking and picking fights every weekend, and usually winning. I finally outgrew that destructive behavior when I figured out it wasn't getting me anywhere. My friends had grown up and stopped encouraging me, and some didn't bother with me anymore. My antisocial behavior was costing me, big time, so I just stopped doing it. Sure, I had to defend myself occasionally, but what really cinched it was meeting Mar. She knew about me and fighting and told me that if I ever got in another fight she'd dump me like a bag of week old doughnuts.

I slipped back down the stairs and picked up the two cans that I'd found in the pantry and went back upstairs with a heavy heart and a racing mind.

When I got to the kitchen, Sharon was lifting a huge baked ham out of the oven, and Lee was dressing a bowl of salad greens. I poked my head into the dining room, and there were Mar and Claude starting to set the table.

A few minutes later the whole group sat down for a wonderful feast, but I didn't taste it at all. From time to time I glanced at Mar and Claude to see if I could detect any interplay between them, but they kept it cool and barely looked at each other. At one point, I thought Claude looked at me with a bit of an "I'm banging your wife" smirk, but it was likely just my imagination. I gritted my teeth and put a smile on my face, but inside I was raging.

Claude and I had gotten along well, ever since Lee moved back to town from the west coast with a new husband in tow, over twenty years ago. He wasn't a bad guy at all, or at least I hadn't thought so until now. We shared a passion for sports, including golf, which we played together once a week through the season, and both considered working on old cars our number one hobby. He drove a restored '56 Chev ragtop pretty much all summer long, while my '52 Olds business coupe had been a work in progress for the last eight years and was still waiting for the big block I'd rebuilt to be dropped into place. We'd been good friends, but that was now done.

Everyone raved about the food, as always, and before too long, a very sated group of people sat around the table.

For the past several years it had fallen to me to start off the after-dinner festivities with a toast to the birthday girls, which was followed by one from Claude, to our mother-in law and her always excellent meal. The bottle was passed around and everyone topped off their glasses. They looked at me, waiting to raise their glasses.

I'm rarely impulsive, but tonight I knew I needed to get things out in the open, so I stood and raised my glass. "A special toast this year, to my loving wife, Mar, a woman who, and I'm sure Claude will back me up on this, gives a damn fine blow job."

The reactions were as you might expect. Mar's face, first lit by a smile, became beet red in an instant as her wineglass crashed to the table. Heather, upset at the indignity of the remark, but not comprehending the implication, simply shouted at me. "Dad!" Lee's smile turned to an angry scowl directed at Claude, and Claude had what's best described as an "Oh oh, I'm in deep shit" look on his face.

Two heartbeats after I spoke, Mar leaped to her feet and dashed to the kitchen, followed a few seconds later by her mother and Michelle. Claude slid his chair back as if to make a quick getaway, but was frozen on the spot by a terse "Don't you move, buster!" from Lee.

"Don", my father-in-law asked, "Son, just what the hell are you talking about?"

Before I could start, he turned to Heather, "Sweetheart, why don't you go see if your Mom and Granny could use some help. This might be be more of an adult's conversation."

Heather, insulted, replied. "Gramps, I'm twenty one years old. I know what a blow job is. But I don't understand..."

Heather stayed put and all eyes turned to me. I quickly related all of the odd events of the past three weeks, and then told them about the revelation through the ductwork. Heather's eyes were as big as saucers as she understood her mother's indiscretion.

Looking at Bob, I asked, "You must know that you can hear anything that's going on in the bathroom if you're standing in front of the basement pantry, don't you?"

He nodded. "It's been that way since Butler, the plumbing and heating guy, decided to cut an extra outlet in the duct after he installed the new furnace, That was in '95, so it's been like that for almost twelve years now."

I continued, "It was very clear from the conversation, that this wasn't the first time they'd been together."

I paused and turned to Claude. "Am I correct?" He didn't say anything until a sharp elbow in the ribs from Lee got his attention.

"You son of a bitch", she snarled at him. "What's been going on?"

With a look of resignation on his face, he spoke, "It started about two weeks ago. Not long after you," he looked at Lee, "had your shifts changed at work".

Claude looked at me, and then back to Lee. "You know how Marilyn and I always flirt. We've done it for years, and it's always been harmless, you know, just for fun. Well, Marilyn stopped in at the house to drop off something for you, I don't remember what..."

As he was about to continue, the kitchen door opened, and Mar, quite obviously being herded along, came into the room, followed closely by her Mom and Michelle. Her eyes were red from crying. She looked around the room at everyone until her gaze settled on me, and she burst into tears again.

"Don, I'm sorry" she sobbed.

Sharon guided Mar to her seat next to mine, and as she fought to get herself under control, she reached out and grasped my hand. I guess it was the tears, because I felt sorry for her, but only for a second or two. I gave her had a gentle squeeze and then moved it to her own lap. She reached out again and I pulled my hand away. That prompted another series of sobs until her Mom quietly shushed her and told her to be quiet.

Since Mar, Sharon and Michelle had missed out on the start of Claude's confession, I recapped for them. Mar had stopped crying and was starting to get herself together. I didn't want to set her off again, but I needed to hear the story from her rather than from Claude, so I asked her. "Mar," I asked her, "What happened then?"

She looked at me as if pleading not to have to tell what she'd done, in front of her family, but I held firm. "Go on."

She blew her nose again. "I stopped off to return a casserole dish that I'd borrowed from Lee, but she wasn't home. She'd had her shifts at the hospital changed the day before and was working 3 to 11." She paused to wipe her eyes and blow her nose again.

She continued, "Claude and I were talking, flirting a bit, like we always do, and all of a sudden, completely out of the blue, we were kissing. It didn't last long, and I felt very guilty, and more or less ran out the door. I'd calmed down by the time I got home, and I didn't think much more about it until the next day at work."

"I'm ashamed to say that, by the next day, I was excited by what had happened, and gave in to it, and after telling you I was stopping to see Lee, I went back. Claude knew why I was there, and before too long, we were," she paused and took a deep breath, "having sex. You know the rest."

The tears started again, and Sharon pushed the box of tissues at her.

She was sobbing, "Don, Lee, I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I've been a weak, thoughtless person."

It was Lee's turn to speak. "It took two of you to make this happen." She turned to Claude. "Do you remember telling me years ago, that if I ever stepped out on you, you'd dump me in an instant? Do you remember that?" she demanded.

Claude hung his head. "What can I say, Lee. ...the thrill of the forbidden. I'm sorry we gave in to it."

I'm sorry, too, Claude." Lee turned to her mother. "Can I stay here tonight, Mom? I need to think."

Mar turned to me. The question was there, in her eyes. I held out my hand. "Let's go home, Mar. We need to talk."

It didn't sound good for Lee and Claude, but I had no intention of making any decisions without a long talk. I was angry, very angry and hurting badly, but I still loved my wife.

The drive home was quiet. We didn't talk much, and what we did discuss centered on the next day's work schedule. Once home, we sat down at the kitchen table, and shared a beer. Mar was still having trouble looking me in the eye, and it wasn't long before she started to cry again.

"Can you ever forgive me, Don? I pray that you can, because I couldn't live without you. I'm so stupid and selfish. All I was thinking about was getting off on the thrill."

I didn't answer, which increased her distress.

"Please tell me you won't leave me. Tell me that you still love me, please!"

I though about her question and with a heavy sigh, answered, "Yes, Mar, I still love you. I don't like you very much right now, and I'm so angry, so thoroughly pissed off at you, that I think we should just call it a night and not talk any more. We'll talk tomorrow. I don't know about you, but I know I'm gonna have trouble sleeping, so I'm going to use the spare bedroom. Good-night."

I was right about not sleeping well. I lay there in the dark, somewhere between wakefulness and sleep, and in my mind's eye, I could see Mar and Claude naked, with arms wrapped around each other, rolling between the sheets on a bed, which was, for some strange reason, situated in her parents dining room. My mind was draped with the red veil of anger. Sometime around four I was finally able to shut down my reeling mind and drift off into a fitful sleep to the sound of Mar's crying.

Work sucked, big time, the next day. I was tired and my imagination was still running rampant. All I could think about was Mar fucking Claude, and it kept my wrath at a peak. I knew I had to do something to defuse the situation, or it could end our marriage, and that was something I really didn't want to happen. You hear of spouses who become hateful when one of them cheats, and I could understand that, but it wasn't me. I'd been head over heels in love with Mar for too long, and it wasn't something that I was willing to let go, at least not trying to work it out.

A half hour before her quitting time, I phoned Mar and told her that I was bringing Chinese take-out home, and that I expected her to be there when I arrived, though I was sure she would head straight home after work.

That evening, sitting across the table from her, eating dan-dan noodles with black bean sauce, I was still steaming, and I'm sure she could tell.

"Don, I'm sorry..."

I exploded. "God damn it, if I hear 'sorry' one more fucking time I'm gonna walk out that door and never come back!" I could normally keep my temper in check, but not tonight.

She cringed, tears trickling down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry, too, Mar." I tried to breathe deeply to calm myself. "This is eating my guts out, and I can't let it go. I don't know what to do. At every turn, all I think about is you with your legs spread wide, and your brother-in-law between them, screwing the hell out of you. I'm haunted by it."

She sniffed, "What can I do to help us get past this? I'll do anything you want. Anything. Just tell me."

We sat silently for a long time, Mar blowing her nose occasionally, and me fuming.

Finally, I spoke. "I want you to tell me why. Why did this happen?"

She looked at me timidly, "I guess that's a reasonable question, and one I've been trying to answer myself. Maybe if I tell you, it'll make some sense."

She paused and looked at me for just for a second, then looked down, unable to hold her eyes to mine. "I know this is going to sound like an excuse, like I'm trying to evade responsibility for what I've done, but that's not it at all."

"We've been married for twenty-four years and our relationship, at least as far a sex is concerned, isn't as exciting as it once was. You know this, because we've talked... and tried things to spice it up. And don't get me wrong, I wouldn't trade the relationship we have now."

She held her hands over her face and started to sob again. "I hope we still have a relationship, or can get it back. I hope I haven't broken it. I'd die without you." She sat for a few minutes and gathered herself together.

"Our relationship is different than it was early on, it's more love and less lust, and I'm fine with that. But sometimes, I miss the lust that we had. Don't you?"

I nodded.

She continued, "I'm not saying lack of excitement prompted me to go back to Lee's that afternoon, but I'm sure it..." She looked at me, then asked, "If we can fix this, can we try to have a little more lust?

I nodded again, then it hit me. Would lust help dissolve the anger? Could I get past the anger and fuck my unfaithful wife? Would it bring us closer and help the healing process?" I was skeptical, and I decided to wait to suggest it, wanting to see how I felt after we talked more.

She looked me in the eye, "One thing I have to say, I want to be absolutely sure that you know this..."

I waited. "My... indiscretion... with Claude, had nothing, not the slightest bit, to do with your ability as a lover. You're the best, and always will be."

"So why did you go? Was it really just the need for a little excitement?" I asked.

She shrugged her shoulders. "As I said earlier, I really haven't figured it out. The lure of the forbidden was certainly there. I'd never felt it before. It's like a drug. Add some thoughtless daydreaming, and no consideration for the consequences... I think it boils down to me being selfish and thoughtless. "

"OK", I told her. "let's move on to something else, and I know you're going to think I'm weird, that I'm being a masochist, but I want you to tell me about your trysts with him. Everything. All the details."

She looked at me quizzically. "Really?" I don't know if I can. I'll be so... embarrassed is the wrong word, but you know what I mean."

"Really," I said firmly. "I'm spending way too much time imagining the two of you fucking..."

She cringed at my choice of words, but I carried on, "and that's what's making me crazy, fueling this ache in my guts. Maybe by replacing the pictures in my mind with reality, I'll be able to let it go."

"What if it makes it worse?" she asked.

I shrugged. "How much worse can it get?"

She nodded. "I said I'd do anything to try and save us, so if you want to hear about it... well, I'll try my best."

She sat for a minute, maybe longer, putting the words together. "You know about the quick kiss at Lee's house when I went to drop off the casserole dish. Well, at work the next day I wasn't all that busy and found myself daydreaming about what happened. Rather than feeling guilty as I had earlier, I replayed what had happened over and over in my mind, and suddenly realized that I was very horny. I remember thinking about repeating what had happened with Claude, and how exciting the idea was, because it was illicit, forbidden. I was ashamed and aroused at the same time."

"I decided to go by Lee's to see her, knowing I was only fooling myself. I really wanted to see if Claude wanted to take the previous day's kissing experience further. I wasn't thinking that we would have sex, but did expect to kiss some more and perhaps do a little petting. When I got there, he had just arrived home himself and invited me in. We sat down together on the couch and talked, very briefly, as it turned out, before we were kissing. It wasn't like the previous day, however, I didn't run out the door after a few seconds. We ended up stretched out on the couch face to face, and while we kissed, he ground his crotch into mine, and I could feel his hard-on pressing against my belly. His hands were all over me, squeezing my tits, my bum, everywhere. As he went up under my blouse and slipped my bra up so he could squeeze my nipples, I reached down and stroked his cock through his slacks. It was very hard and there was a wet spot on his pants."

"It was at that point," she looked at me with some uncertainty, "that I knew we were going to...fuck."