Shock Discovery

I sat staring wide eyed with shock at the TV screen, though I was staring at the screen I wasn’t really taking in what it was showing any more. Lord knows how long I sat in that numbed state, but it was only the ‘clunk’ and auto-rewinding of the tape in the VCR that brought me semi-back to my senses. The tape had been leant to me by a work colleague and he had said that it had been shot by a friend of his the previous weekend, I’d known the contents were porno when I took it from him and had actually looked forward to watching it while my wife was at her sister’s. When the tape had started the action was already underway and I had been both intrigued and turned on by the scene of a mature, but damned attractive woman being fucked by three guys at once. What with all the action going on around the woman it wasn’t possible to see her face properly until the guy in her mouth came then moved away.

That was the point at which I had gone into shock, the woman being fucked and showing every sign of enjoying what was being done to her was none other than my wife of 25 years, Ruth! Ruth had been a virgin when we’d married and although I had not been I wasn’t what could be called ‘experienced’, but I did enjoy sex. Only Ruth had not been that enthusiastic about the act, nor had her attitude changed with time, 25 years on and we still only made love once a week, with the lights out and in the standard missionary position. I had tried to broaden our lovemaking, but Ruth would have none of it, which left me mostly wanking away on a nightly basis in the solitude of the bathroom. So was it any wonder that I was stunned at the sight of my wife who had denied me so much pleasure over the years enjoying the attentions of a group of men in every orifice of her body. The irony was that despite my supposedly higher sex drive I had not cheated on my wife once in all our years of marriage, and I’d had plenty of opportunities along the way let me tell you, but I had loved her too much to betray her in that way.

“Fuck it!” I cursed into the empty room.

As the minutes passed my shock turned towards anger and a deep feeling of betrayal, oddly I found myself thinking that discovering my wife’s infidelity would not have been so bad if she’d shared some of her sluttish actions with me. Getting to my feet I did what any cuckolded male does in such a situation, I grabbed a bottle of booze, which, under normal circumstances, was also something Ruth rationed me on since she claimed not to like the smell of booze on my breath. Looking at the bottle of whiskey in my hand I felt anger bubbling up in me even more, normally what was left in the bottle would have had to last another full two weeks, but not that night. That night I poured a full tumbler of the fiery liquid and drank it down in four hefty gulps that left me coughing, but it did the trick in that the last of my numbness faded in the heat of the liquor. Looking at the blank TV screen I swore and poured another tumbler full of whiskey then sat down and started the tape going again.

This time I watched the tape all the way through, it was only an hour long and the taping had clearly started well after the fun and games had got under way and was still going on after the tape ran out. I watched, seething inside, as my wife catered to the every whim and desire of the men with her, in all that had been four men with only three in view at any one time. She’d sucked them off, a thing that had caused a row between us the one and only time I’d suggested the idea. They buggered her, they took her singly and in groups and in every conceivable position and she had appeared to love every damned moment of it. By the time the tape came to an end I was so mad I could have committed murder yet at the same time so depressed that I could have taken my own life.

“Damn the bitch!” I cursed semi-drunkenly.

Then a thought came to me, the tape had been shot the previous weekend at a time my wife had told me she was going to see her sister, she was supposedly at her sister’s again that night, but was she? For 25 years I had trusted Ruth, but now I had to know, was she where she had said she would be or was she off being royally fucked again? Picking up the phone I dialled the number for my sister-in-law, after a couple of rings it was answered by my brother-in-law.

“Tom?” I said into the instrument “It’s Bill, can I speak to Ruth.”

“Ruth?” came the reply. “We weren’t expecting her tonight Bill.”

“Oh, I thought she said she was going to visit you.” I responded choking back the bile in my throat “I must have misheard her. Maybe I was thinking of last week.”

“I don’t think so, hang on.” Tom replied.

He must have put his hand over the mouthpiece, but I heard his muffled shout to his wife to which she must have replied.

“Still there Bill?” Tom said a few moments later “Mary says Ruth hasn’t been over for four weeks now, she was wondering if she was okay.”

“She’s fine,” I said between gritted teeth “I’ll let her know Mary’s worried about her when I see her.”

“Okay, thanks.” Tom responded.

Saying my goodbyes I hung up, drained my glass and poured another tumbler full of whiskey. Seething I got up and stalked around the room while I drank, I had no idea what I was going to do about this situation in the long term, but I knew that night there was no way I would be able to sleep in the same room as my wife. Lurching upstairs I made up the bed in the spare room, grabbed some pyjamas and tossed them on the bed then went back to the living room where I continued drinking until almost one in the morning. It was the sound of the front door closing that brought my sorrowful binge to an end, my ever-loving wife Ruth was finally home.

“Good God Bill,” Ruth exclaimed almost the moment she entered the living room “you’ve been drinking, you know how much I hate the smell of whiskey.”

“Don’t bloody worry,” I retorted draining the last of my whiskey “you won’t have to put up with the smell of it; I’m sleeping in the spare room.”

Before she could get over the surprise of my comment I pushed past her and went upstairs to bed. A few minutes later Ruth opened the spare room door catching me in the process of fighting with my trousers.

“What the hell has got into you Bill?” she asked angrily from the doorway.

“Leave me alone woman … oof.” I replied just as angrily as I fell onto the bed.

Kicking my trousers across the room I glared at Ruth with murder in my heart, she was staring at me as though I’d slapped her in the face. Her reaction was understandable since I had rarely raised my voice with her in all the years we’d known each other. She opened her mouth to speak, raising a hand I swore at her, her face paled and she rushed from the room, with what sounded distinctly like a sob, leaving the door open behind her. Staggering across the room I slammed the door shut then almost fell into bed where I dropped into a drunken slumber that was filled with dreams of my wife, a group of men and them all pointing and laughing at me while they fucked.

“Oh God.” I groaned awake somewhere around eight in the morning.

My head was pounding, my mouth felt as though it was full of cotton wool and my teeth itched and all these sensations increased as I slowly sat up. Goodness knows how long I sat on the side of the bed with my pounding head in my hands, but eventually I began to feel somewhat alive, dragging my aching body to the bathroom I took a long slow shower with an aspirin chaser and headed back to the main bedroom to get dressed. As I dressed the events of the previous night flooded back to me and the rising anger dispelled the last of my hangover. When I eventually made my way downstairs I could hear Ruth moving around in the kitchen, I was in no mood to confront her, but I needed coffee.

“Well,” she huffed as I entered the kitchen “what was all that about. I don’t know what got into you Bill.”

Glaring at her I made myself a coffee then sat at the kitchen table, as I sipped at the hot brew my wife carried on talking giving me a full frontal lecture about my conduct of the night before. As her nagging lecture went on my anger grew hotter and hotter until I finally reached a breaking point.

“Shut up!” I shouted at her and flung the half full cup across the room to shatter on the wall opposite.

“Bill!” Ruth gasped, her face going ashen.

I looked at her standing there pressed back against the work surface as though in horror and for a moment my anger faded a little. At 45 Ruth was even more beautiful than she had been when we had first met, her shoulder length black hair didn’t have a trace of grey, and her figure had become softer yet in a sexy way. My eyes moved slowly down then up her body noting her perfectly shaped 36 inch bust, the gentle inward taper of her waist and the flare of her hips. I’d virtually worshipped this woman for 25 years, I’d put up with her ways, put up with the difference in our sex drives, virtually gave up drinking to please her. Then the memories of what I’d seen on that damned tape flooded back and my anger flared back up again. Wordlessly I crossed the kitchen to her, took one of her arms in a painful grip and all but dragged her from the kitchen to the living room.

“Bill,” she protested as I all but threw her onto the couch in front of the TV “what the hell has got into you!”

“Don’t say another word …” I said in a low voice, then added “bitch!”

“Bill!” she gasped.

“Shut up or I swear …” I spat at her, half raising a hand as though to strike her.

Ruth shrank away from me with fear in her eyes, I had never struck her before, but she must have sensed that I was crazy enough to do violence at that point in time. Shaking her head she looked at me as though I were a total madman, which perhaps I was that moment, despite that she didn’t stay quiet.

“Bill,” she almost whispered, “darling, whatever it is that’s wrong we can get you some help. We can work it out darling. What is this all about Bill, please tell me.”

“Don’t you dare use the word ‘darling’ to me,” I spat at her “you damned slut! You want to know what this is all about do you? Well I’ll show you!”

The tape was still in the VCR where I had left it the previous night, turning the TV and VCR on I set the tape playing. Ruth looked at the screen and frowned, clearly she didn’t immediately recognise either the action or those involved.

“Is this about porn?” she asked looking up at me.

“Just bloody well watch it,” I snapped back “you’ll see soon enough what this is about.”

She looked back at the screen in time to see the cock being removed from the woman’s mouth and the man stepping away. Ruth gave a strangled gasp and went whiter than snow, for a long minute she stared at herself being fucked on the TV screen then looked up at me with horror written in her eyes. Shaking her head as though in denial Ruth opened her mouth as though to speak, but nothing came out.

“You wanted to know what this was about,” I growled, “now you know. Now you fucking know!”

Tears were suddenly streaming down Ruth’s face, she tried to speak again but all that came out was a wracking sob.

“All this time,” I went on “25 bloody years and all I get is an occasional quickie from you, but you seem quick enough to fuck everyone else!”

“No!” she cried out “Bill, please I’ve never …”

“Don’t fucking lie woman,” I cut off her words “there you are doing it, look at it, right there caught on tape fucking three or four bloody men in ways you’ve screamed at me for even hinting at. How bloody long has this been going on? How long?”

“Bill, it’s not like that, you’ve got to believe me!” she pleaded.

“Believe you!” I laughed wryly “That’s a joke. I’ve bloody believed you for 25 years only to find out that you’ve been betraying me. What was it, I was a good meal ticket but not good enough to fuck? Did you ever love me at all Ruth?”

My words were cruel, but I was hurting and she was the cause of that hurt. But having spoken the words I did begin to wonder about our relationship, had Ruth ever truly loved me? Looking at her crying her eyes out on the couch I wondered whether her tears were from guilt or from having been caught.

“Well?” I snapped when she didn’t answer me “Damn it Ruth, you tell me it’s not like that, but that tape gives the lie to your words. Look at yourself, look at you taking those men in ways I’ve could only dream of and loving it! How the hell did you expect me to feel after seeing this side of you?”

As I spoke Ruth was shaking her head in denial, in the background the sounds of her pleasure came from the TV speakers. As I drew to a breathless halt Ruth came from the couch and knelt in front of me, her face raised pleadingly to look at mine.

“Please Bill,” she finally managed to sob out “that tape, it isn’t the truth.”

“Jesus!” I exploded “What kind of a fool do you take me for? Are you trying to make me believe that’s not you lying there being fucked by some guy I have never seen before? Christ woman, you’re practically begging him to fuck you!”

“You have to let me explain,” Ruth wailed “please Bill you have to listen.”

“You still haven’t answered my questions,” I spat back “Did you ever love me Ruth?”

“God yes!” she cried out “I love you so much it hurts at times.”

I had been looking right into her eyes as she spoke and through her despair I saw something else.

“Hah!” I responded a little uncertain for the first time “And that’s how you show it? And how about how long this has been going on?”

She looked down as though avoiding my accusing glare, but then her head came up again, her eyes looking right into mine.

“Four weeks.” She said in a low sobbing voice.

The room seemed to spin with her admission, my knees suddenly felt weak and I stepped away from Ruth to collapse into an armchair. She looked at my retreat from her with even greater despair, tears brimming and flowing in a steady stream as she knelt on the living room floor like an abandoned waif. The anger in me had vanished to be replaced by depression, my eyes became blurred and when I rubbed at them my fingers came away damp.

“Bill,” Ruth spoke quietly through her sobs “those things … that tape … I didn’t do it all willingly.”

As she spoke her voice sounded in an orgasmic cry from the TV, I glanced at the screen then looked back at her.

“Sounds like it.” I sighed “It seems I was never man enough to make you happy. I suppose the best thing is for me to …”

“NO!” she almost screamed “No Bill, don’t say it, I’d die if you left me.”

“And how do you think I feel right now.” I retorted feeling anger bubbling up again “They” I said waving at the TV “seem to be able to make you happier than I ever could, what do you think that says to me? ”

Ruth collapsed in near hysterical crying on the carpet and all I could do was sit there and stare numbly at her. Five minutes passed before she looked up at me again, even through her despair she looked beautiful.

“Bill,” she croaked “they did make me … climax …, but …”

“But what?” I snapped at her.

“But I didn’t want them to!” she cried out “They used me Bill, they …”

“Used you?” I said in disbelief “Christ Ruth, that excuse might work if it had been the once, but you went back for more!”

“I had to!” she cried out “Don’t you understand, I had to keep going back, I had to keep doing what they wanted.”

“Because they satisfied you like I never could.” I commented with a sigh of sadness.

“No!” she protested “Because they threatened to tell you about … all this.”

Her voice faded out with the last three words, I stared at her not knowing what to think. Looking at the screen I saw Ruth enthusiastically sucking away on a man’s prick; looking at my wife I saw her crouched on the floor in tearful sorrow. I just couldn’t seem to think straight, but she seemed to be saying that she had been blackmailed into sex with these men.

“What are you saying Ruth,” I asked feeling confused “that you were blackmailed into this?”

“Yes!” she cried, “That is exactly what I am saying.”

“What the hell could they use to blackmail you Ruth?” I responded sharply.

“That I had sex with one of them.” She virtually whispered, then went on in a rush before I could comment. “But I don’t remember it happening Bill, I swear it! All I know is that I went to a bar to get a soft drink before going to see Mary and woke up in a strange man’s bed … naked … and … oh Bill, he told me I’d begged him to do it, he said he had three friends as witnesses.”

Her desperate words had the ring of truth about them, but I was still unsure, though Ruth had never given me reason to doubt her before, or so I had thought. Had she been doped with one of those date rape drugs the media is always full of or had she picked this man up for her own reasons? How could I tell if she was telling me the truth or not when she had been with the man and his friends at least three times since that first incident, when she had lied to me on at least three subsequent occasions. Part of me wanted to believe her, but that damned tape was going in the background and her joyous cries made my doubts all the stronger. Then a thought occurred to me.

“But how could he blackmail you” I asked “if he didn’t know anything about you?”

“But they did know,” she sobbed, “I think he must have gone through my handbag while I was asleep, but he knew who I was, where I lived and about you. Bill he swore he would tell you everything about that night if I didn’t see him again.”

“So why didn’t you tell him to stick it,” I demanded “or tell me yourself come to that?”

“I couldn’t,” she cried “I knew it would hurt you and I never wanted that to happen.”

“Christ!” I exclaimed “And you don’t think I’m hurting now? You’ve lied to me already Ruth, don’t you think that hurts? How many times have you met this man and his friends?”

“I’ve only met his friends twice,” she sobbed “but I’ve been with him four times including that first time.”

“So you’ve lied to me at least four times,” I sighed “and God alone how many other times before that ...”

“No Bill,” she gasped out “I’ve never lied to you before! I beg you to believe me, I’ve never done anything like this before and I didn’t want to do it now, but Roy swore he’d tell you about … about … he swore he’d tell you if I didn’t go along with him.”

“Jesus Ruth,” I snapped at her “didn’t it occur to you that every time you saw the man his hold on you became tighter?”

“I know,” she sobbed “but after the second time I was in so deep I couldn’t think of anything else to do. Bill. I was so stupid, but I was desperate to keep you from being hurt and now everything is falling apart, this is my worst nightmare come true!”

“What happened the second time that put you in so ‘deep’?” I asked dreading the answer.

“I … he took pictures of me … us,” she sobbed out softly “while we were …”

“Ruth,” I said sharply “just tell it from the start. Start with how this second meeting came about?”

Slowly, with long pauses Ruth told me how this man Roy had telephoned her during the week, how he had used that first night, which Ruth was adamant she did not remember, to make her meet him on the following Saturday afternoon. He had got her to go to his flat and had met her at the door dressed only in a pair of briefs. She had gone into the flat and followed him to the bedroom with reluctance then had accepted a glass of wine with equal reluctance. Roy had apparently barely let her sip the wine before suggesting she got ‘more comfortable’.

“When he said that,” she said so softly I had to lean forward in my chair to hear her “I froze up. Then he reached for the telephone while reciting our number, I knew he meant to ring you and I knew I had to do what he wanted. Bill I had no choice, you have to believe me dar …”

“Don’t even think that word,” I cut her short “just get on with it.”