Loving Wife, Unlovable Husband

For a time I used to live in lodgings and my landlord was a complete arsehole; but my landlady was just dandy. Pete and Rose they were called. Pete wasn't a bad sort when he was sober, but that was not very often. Even when he was drunk; which was pretty much every night, he was not too bad, as long as you don't mind dragging an overweight fifty year old upstairs to bed, because he couldn't walk. Couldn't walk, couldn't talk; couldn't do much of anything, except sleep.

Rose was lovely. She was 47, attractive, well preserved, always nicely dressed; her style was sort of classic, with a slightly sexy twist, and she had the softest, most winning eyes. She deserved a lot better than what Pete had let himself become. They were typical of so many couples as they come to middle age. Rose had kept her end up well and taken care of herself, while Pete had just stopped caring and dressed like a scarecrow and allowed himself to degenerate into an excuse for a human being. That's why I say he was a complete arsehole. How could a man married to a lovely woman like Rose neglect her so? The man was a fool; but what do I care about that? I was the one who profited by it. It was no wonder that she made a play for me soon after I had moved in.

Rose was friendly right from the moment I moved in; Pete was not unfriendly; just uninterested. He would grunt and I took that to mean 'good morning' or 'how are you', but that was as far as the conversation went. Rose was friendly, but a little formal when Pete was there. I don't know why she took such care, because as far as I could see, his awareness of what was going on the world didn't stretch beyond what's on the telly and how many cans of beer had he got and were there enough of them in the fridge cooling?

The room I rented from them was next to their bedroom. I found it difficult to get to sleep the first week strange bed, unfamiliar surroundings. I never heard any noise coming from their room during those nights.

I wondered what it was about middle age, one of those nights when I lay in my new bed not hearing any noises coming from their room next door. Women blossom and men go to seed and develop hobbies that involve strange items of equipment, long hours spent in damp garden sheds and seeing as little of their wives as they can manage. Meanwhile their wives go on caring and wearing nice clothes and maybe they develop hobbies and interests too, to fill up the lonely, empty hours. So I concluded that the hobbies of middle aged men were a substitute for the sex they were no longer much interested in, while the hobbies of middle aged women were a kind of sublimation of their feelings of frustration for the sex they craved, but didn't get; at least from their husbands. And as I thought about it more, I thought of some of the hobbies and handicrafts that women of a certain age took up, such as knitting and embroidery and how they all involve putting long, thin, sharp implements into little holes.

It was not long before this train of thought arrived at thoughts of Rose. The more I got to know her, the more desirable she became. Once Pete had gone out to work, she sprang into life. She was warm and friendly and chatty and flirtatious in the discreet and low key way that is intended to gain a response that will confirm to her that she still registers as desirable, but not so strong that it invites an actual pass. Then after I had been with them for about a week, and Pete had gone off somewhere; the pub probably, and I was sitting in the living room reading a book, she disappeared upstairs for about fifteen minutes. It seemed a little odd, for even after such a short time there, we had established a little routine. Pete would go out and Rose would sit and chat with me.

She came back after the fifteen minutes or so, and she had changed her clothes and put on make up. There was something a bit different about her. Her outfit was less classic and more sexy than usual, and the make up of brighter colours. She looked gorgeous and I don't think I did much of a job of hiding the pulse of desire that shot through me when she walked into the living room.

'Are you going out?' I asked her; 'you look like you are dressed to go somewhere nice.'

'I hope I am,' she said.

We started to chat and our conversation flowed easily and she asked me if I had a girlfriend. I told her that I hadn't.

'So you are all alone, then?' she said.

'Well, not really; I mean, I have plenty of friends at college and I chat with you and I like that.'

'You do!' she said, as though there might have been some doubt about the matter.

'Of course,' I said, 'you have been so friendly and made me feel so welcome and so comfortable here.'

'Good,' she said, 'I'm glad.'

Then she asked me about college and friends and going out and socializing. She said I didn't seem to go out much.

'I do usually,' I said, 'but I'm a bit busy now with exams coming up and anyway, I have been enjoying getting to know you, so there was no need to go out.'

'Really?' she said.

'Yes.'

'I don't go out much.'

'I'd kind of guessed that,' I said.

'I don't get the chance much.'

I didn't want to ask her why, because I already knew the answer and I didn't want the conversation to turn to Pete, and her woes with him. That was not going to be much of an aphrodisiac.

I had realised what she was up to and that the somewhere nice she was hoping to go to was not somewhere outside. I was one hundred per cent up for it, and everything I had said so far was intended to show her that. She was still tentative though, and I had to be sure that she was really up for it too; and not just still flirting with the possibility. If I misjudged things and moved on her and she didn't really want it, everything would be spoiled and I would probably have to move out.

'When you go out somewhere nice looking like that, Rose, you will turn a few heads,' I told her and made sure I made strong eye contact as I said it.

She blushed a little, but she was very pleased with the compliment. I had shown my hand. I had told her, even if indirectly, that she was attractive. To make sure there could be no ambiguity, I added

'You are a very attractive woman Rose.'

'Thank you, kind sir!' she said, recovering the flirty Rose I had grown to want.

But I was not going to give it to her on a plate. She had opened the game with her sexy outfit and her grand living room entrance. I had let her know that I liked her. Now she had to make her next move. The tension between us was rising tangibly and that was a great part of the pleasure, and I wanted to keep that going a little longer yet.

'Why don't you come and sit over here on the sofa?' she said nervously. 'That old armchair of Pete's is so uncomfortable, I never sit in it.

I made eye contact again and said 'ok', and I stood up and went over to the sofa and sat down next to her. She had made her move and committed herself. I had to respond quickly, otherwise we would sit there next to each other in awkwardness and embarrassment, until the moment had died and one of us; no doubt her, would get up and mumble something about tea. So I turned to her and said

'I want you, Rose;' and as soon as the words were out, my lips were on hers and we were kissing each other hungrily. In another minute we were both naked and without even being conscious of undressing ourselves and each other. I remember that she was wearing very alluring underwear; low cut bra, skimpy panties and stockings and suspenders. There were pale green.

Afterwards we chatted comfortably and amongst other things, she told me that she had never cheated on Pete before, but that she had often wanted to.

'Yes, I wanted to,' she said, 'I wanted to do many, many things, but I was loyal and maybe I'm too conservative for my own good, or maybe it was just lack of opportunity...' she trailed off.

I did not say anything. I did not want to insult him; well, no more than I already had by fucking his wife. But then, he didn't seem to want it.

The awful daring of that moment's surrender became decisive for Rose. After that afternoon she was another woman altogether, a quite different version of herself; a new Rose. She was more confident and earthier, and of course after that first time, we were having each other every time Pete went out; and it was not long before we were doing it when he was in the house too. Rose just got wilder and wilder, and I was eager to follow wherever she went. It was always somewhere nice, very nice.

That first time we were both quite nervous at the beginning, but then when I was inside her we found each other's rhythm and our lovemaking was delicious.

Afterwards, she told me that I was the only other man besides Pete that she had sex with, and she was only my third. We lay naked together there for an hour or so, until she looked at her watch and said that Pete would be home soon, so we had better get dressed.

We got into a routine. Pete went to work or the pub and we had sex together. It got better every time, and we got more and more adventurous. We were both quite inexperienced, but together we discovered the pleasures of sex, and tried more and more positions and places to do it in, and practiced oral sex on each other. To me, it was a schoolboy's dream come true; to discover the world of erotic pleasures with a lovely mature woman; for her a whole new lease of sexual life afters years of Pete's neglect.

One evening, after we had been going for about a month, she shocked me. She has been getting more and brazen with every session, and she was dressing more sexily and acting more sexily, and although she was not doing that when Pete was around, she was just different, and anyone but him would surely have noticed. She shone with a new confidence and there was a glint in her eye. And I was the same.

That evening I was up in my room studying and at about ten I went downstairs to get myself a drink. I looked into to the living room to say goodnight to her and she was sitting on the sofa looking very fed up, and Pete was out cold in the chair. Normally she just left him there when she went to bed. That evening, though, she said

'Can you help me to get him up to bed? I want him out of the way.'

Taken aback and not really getting what she meant, I said 'what?'

'I want to do it; you know...sex!' She mouthed that last word silently. 'I feel so horny this evening.'

It must have been because we had not done it that afternoon. Pete had said he was ill and he had stayed home from work that day. I didn't fancy carrying that fat drunk git up the stairs, but for the prize it would be worth it. I could barely keep my hands off Rose by then, and any opportunity to have her I was not going to turn down. It was a struggle, but between us we managed it.

As soon as we were back downstairs in the living room, we were on each other like a couple of wild cats. It was only afterwards that I got worried about him waking up.

'That was a bit risky!' I said to her.

'I know,' she giggled, 'but it made it more exciting!'

'Yes,' I replied, 'but, well, what we're doing is not good, in a way.'

She looked angry for a moment. 'I don't care!' she said, 'I've put up with his drinking for five years now. He was great 'til then; and a really good father. But look, he has problem. I know he has problems, he's ill; I know, but I'm not an old woman yet, and I deserve to have a bit of fun. We're not going to stop.'

'I know, but I feel better when he's not here.'

'He never wakes up. I know it. He!ll never catch us. And it excited me more; you fucking me with him in the house, upstairs.

The Rose of that first afternoon would never have said that.

It was the only time she ever mentioned the moral dimension of it, so I didn't mention it again either; and so evenings of screwing became the dessert to our afternoon main courses.

In any other circumstances it would have been recklessly mad, but he just remained oblivious. Maybe he knew, but didn't care. One way or another, he never said or did anything that gave us pause for thought.

We got bolder and bolder; or she did, and I followed...somewhere nice, always somewhere very, very nice. We had each of us unlocked something in the other. She started buying dildoes and vibrators and she would masturbate with them shamelessly on the sofa for my delectation. She bought sexier and sexier underwear, abandoning her old preference for tasteful pastel colours and wearing reds and blacks and sheers and fishnets and see-thrus and even a black sheer bodystocking with a hole at the crotch. And I responded by getting cock rings and an Arab strap. She loved those! Then she had her nipple pierced, and then her clitoris.

One night, after dragging Pete upstairs and a couple of hours of fucking, we were sitting and drinking wine and suddenly she said

'I want to do it upstairs, in the bed.'

'But Pete's up there asleep,' I said, in exasperation.

'That's what I mean. I want you to fuck me while he's lying there next to us, oblivious.'

It was reckless. It was mad. It was magnificent. I agreed to her wild suggestion immediately. We almost ran up those stairs and I think my cock was in her pussy the moment we were in the bed. We fucked madly and in position after position and he did not even stir.

She wanted it doggie style. She positioned herself at a right angle to him. Her head was inches from his stonach. Had he been sentient, he would have been able to feel her breath on his skin. I got behind her and eased my cock into her and she gasped loudly and as I began to slide in and out of her she cried out

'Yes, yes, fuck your beautiful cock all the way up Auntie Rose's pussy!'

There was enough light in the room to see what was going on, and beyond the curve of her back and her mop of dark hair, I could see Pete lying there, comatose. Suddenly I noticed movement around the area of his crotch and I thought for a moment that after all he did know what was happening and he was enjoying it. But I looked closer and saw that it was Rose's hands. She had pulled his cock out of his underpants and she was stroking it. It was flaccid, but she was no doubt doing her best.

'What are you doing?' I said

'Playing with Pete's cock!' she said between her sighs and gasps.

'Are you crazy?' I said.

'No! Just so fucking horny! This is the best fuck I've ever had. Don't stop. Don't stop. Fuck me, fuck your Rose, fuck her hard.'

I pushed into her even harder and she eased herself forward and her head started bobbing up and down. The crazy bitch was sucking his cock. Her husband was lying in the bed dead to the world and her lover was screwing her doggie style and she was sucking that dead to the world husband's dick. I could barely believe it, but I was too lost in Rose's pussy to care anymore.

Soon I felt her body tense up and she had the most violent orgasm. There was only one way that I could respond and I exploded into her, filling her beautiful vagina with my warm sperm.

We stayed like that for minutes and she kept on sucking Pete's knob, but he still didn't move a muscle.

'We had better go downstairs,' I told her.

Back in the living room I asked her

'Why did you do that?' Perhaps I was a bit jealous.

'Suck his cock?' she said.

'Yes.'

'Because I wanted to, because it was there, right in front of my face.'

'You're crazy,' I said and laughed.

'Maybe I am. I wish I had been crazy all my life. But I haven't. I wish I had.'

And now she was making up for lost time with a vengeance.

Then she told me how she had always fantasised about being had by two men at once.

'I dreamed of meeting another couple, like through a magazine or on the internet, or at a swinging club. And I wanted to be spit roasted.'

I was surprised she even knew the term.

'I wanted one man fucking me in my pussy and the other fucking my mouth. And the woman could diddle my bum hole or lick around my pussy while the man fucked me, or something.'

'Wow!' was all I could think of to say.

'And there's another reason. Pete does screw me. Once a month or so. Or he tries. It disgusts me; his fat bulk writhing around on top of me and trying to get his cock in me. But he never gets hard enough. So on top of being disgusting, it's frustrating. I wish he would leave me alone all together. Now I have my boy, he disgusts even more. I thought if I can de-spunk him now, while I'm enjoying myself, he won't try again so soon. Men need to be de-spunked every now and then; even ones like Pete. I did love him once though. I still love the old Pete, but he's gone now. This one deserves to lay in bed out cold while his wife gets fucked by her toyboy!'

We never did anything quite as mad as that again, but we went on fucking and sucking and kissing and licking every day until in the end I finished my studies and left college. Soon it would be time to move out. I had always thought that I would go back to my home town when I finished college, but that was before Rose. I was in love with her. My home town was two hundred miles away and I was not going to be that far away from my Rose.

We never talked about it, until one evening, afterwards (we were still going at it with the same passion and fury after a year as we had in those first weeks), she said

'You will finish college soon.'

'Yes,' I said.

'And you will leave.'

'Yes and no,' I told her.

'What?'

When I get a job, I will get a place of my own, but I'm staying here. I want to be near you, Rose. I love you.

She started to cry, and between sobs she said

'You beautiful, beautiful boy!'

When she had recovered herself, she said

'What about Pete. Do you want me to leave him?'

'I don't know, I hadn't thought about it. That's your decision to make, Rose. We've been doing it all this time and under the same roof. And it'll be easier for us if I have place. It'll work itself out.'

'I hope so,' she said.

The truth of it was that I didn't see how she could leave him. He had got worse and by then he was spending a lot of his time in hospitals and clinics. Ostensibly it was to get him off the booze, but he was far too gone. They would dry him out for a week or two, but as soon as he was sent home, he'd be on it again.

I got a job quickly after college, and I moved into a flat only ten minutes walk from their house. When he was in the hospital or the clinic, Rose would be at my place almost all the time. We went on for a couple of years like that.

In the end, she had enough of looking after him. She had done more than duty could demand. She left him. But she wouldn't move in with me. She got a place of her own; just down the road from mine.

Her leaving him didn't last for long though. She didn't have it in her just to abandon him, even though that was pretty much what he had done to her when he had started drinking. She kept the new place she had got, but she went back and took care of him when he was at their old home. She even went through the motions of the late middle aged couple, pretending that they would have a nice retirement together. But then she would come back to me and turn back into the vivacious and sexy and beautiful mature lady that was the real Rose now. She told me that Pete knew that there was someone else; and although he never asked and she never confirmed it, he knew it was me; and he was pretty sure, she thought, that it had started when I had lived with them. He didn't mind, though; he was just grateful that she did not abandon him completely, and he was honest enough to admit to himself that he had brought it on himself. When he had allowed himself to sink into the life of booze, he had left her and married the bottle. What else was she going to do?

However, there was more to her going back to him in the way that she did. Our sex life went off the boil after she officially left him, and it only returned to the old intensity when she went back. She needed the idea of him as still a part of her life, and in the here and now, to really let go and let rip in the bedroom; and all the other places we did it. And in all the things we have done sexually, and we really have explored some of the outer reaches of erotic and sensual pleasure, I am sure that the great moment for her was that night when she sucked Pete's cock while he slept like a baby in the bed while I was fucking her doggie style next to him.