A Final Twist of the Knife

Far too hastily. "It was good, then?" I asked.

Audrey replied before I realised I should have asked her what she had expected.

"Yes, it was, Darling but I don't want to go into detail about it, so please don't ask me. It was just an opportunity to satisfy my curiosity about what it was like for a white woman to have sex with a coloured man, nothing else and it certainly had nothing to do with you."

I couldn't help myself. "You say it has nothing to do with me," I exclaimed. "Spending a night being fucked by a black man definitely does have something to do with me," I told her quite vehemently. "And I definitely don't expect it to ever happen again."

I got a long, very concern stare before my wife said anything. "I'm sorry, Darling that it's upsetting you as much as this." I'd seen the look she gave me before, daring me to say anything in reply. Whenever I had ignored that look I'd always lost the argument, so I stared back as defiantly as I could.

With a shake of her head. "I'm going to bed," my wife announced.

As I watched Audrey go upstairs to our bedroom, I felt totally isolated. The one thing I had hoped for was that my wife would include me in the aftermath of her night with Stephen by at least telling me something about it.

My last job was to make sure everything was locked up and turned off. This meant that unless we had decided to have some loving time together, I was last in the bathroom and in bed. Apparently, nothing like that was going to happen tonight because Audrey was already in bed. Well, at least she was sitting up in bed.

As soon as I joined her I was pulled into a very warm kiss. "Stephen was very nice to me, Darling but it was just sex with a coloured man. It was something I needed to experience to understand why so many of the white women in my magazines had black husbands or partners. I wish I knew why I needed to know, but now I do. So please, Darling can you put it out of your mind?"

After fifteen years of being married to Audrey, I was quite attuned to her way of expressing things. I would try and put it out of my mind; what concerned me was having experienced it, would my wife be able to put it out of her mind?

Before I said anything, I was drawn into other even warmer kiss. Not a, make love to me kiss, but still very nice.

"Beverly, I don't mind if you want to turn over and go to sleep," I told her. After everything she had done and said the idea of being intimate with my wife was less interesting than usual.

"Thank you. I am a bit tired," she added as she snuggled down the bed. Then she reached for me. "I would like a cuddle, Darling."

My wife got her cuddle but that was all as she was soon fast asleep. Not me, I had too many unanswered questions.

The next night we did make love though I found myself making comparisons as much as concentrating on pleasuring my wife. Not knowing what to look for nothing stood out but my overall feeling was that something was different.

Two weeks later and her night with Stephen was becoming a dull memory as was my concern that something was different. By the end of the month everything was almost forgotten. I say almost because Audrey was still reading her celebrity magazines just as avidly.

For the next month our home, working and sex lives were good, at times even very good. The following month I noticed there was a restlessness about Audrey. This became particularly apparent when we were making love. I felt that Audrey was trying to get more out of me than I could give her, and it was getting worse toward the end of the month.

Then Audrey told me she had invited Beverley and Travis to join us for dinner at the Hudson House Hotel. "I thought it would be nice to spend an evening with Beverley away from work, and introduce you to her husband."

And to thank her for introducing you to Stephen, I thought. No, she would have already done that at work.

"When have you arranged it for."

"Well, I was going to arrange it for this Friday but Beverley said that Saturday would suit them better."

We had been to the Hampton so I knew there was a dance floor in the middle of the large dining room. "What time?"

"We should be there by seven, for a drink before dinner," she told me. 'I've also bought a new dress for the evening, I hope you like it, Darling." Even though my wife didn't show me the dress I did like the kiss she gave me.

When I saw Audrey in her new dress I was stunned. It was so elegant, yet more revealing than any I had seen her in before. The red colour seemed to add a touch of sensuality to her. When we met them at the bar of the Hampton, they both stood up to greet us and I soon found out that Beverley's husband wasn't with her but another man was.

"I'm very sorry, Audrey, but Travis couldn't be here," Beverley apologised. "I hope you don't mind, I invited Sloan to join us."

"Oh, I am sorry, I wanted Gordon to meet Travis" my wife gushed. Then she turned to me. "You can meet Travis another time, can't you, Darling," my wife stated, assuming she spoke for both of us.

As I shook his hand I wondered if this had all been contrived for my benefit. I took some comfort in that he didn't look like my wife's type. He was a big, powerful man over six feet in height, almost intimating with broad shoulders and chest. He was also very dark brown with strong West African features.

As the evening progressed from the bar to the restaurant I found him easy to talk to He had an opinion on many subjects that I was also interested in. Even so, I found it hard not to wonder why he was here and not Travis. With the meal over and the coffee served it was time for some dancing. I love dancing with my wife so I invited her onto the dance floor. Foxtrots were being played, possible my favourite dance because I also enjoyed the music.

Audrey seemed to have enjoyed the foxtrots as much as I had because when she thanked me she also gave me a hug and a very nice kiss before I escorted her back to our table.

Almost as soon as we sat down I realised that the seating around the circular table had changed and I was now sitting next to Beverley. I didn't think anything of it because I assumed that Sloan and Beverley also been dancing. We had hardly say down before Audrey was engaged in a conversation with Sloan and Beverley was asking me a question.

"How are things with you, Gordon?"

"I'm fine, thank you, Beverley," I replied courteously.

"Got over your problem with Audrey and Stephen?"

I hadn't expected Beverley to asked about that because I was now more concerned with my wife's restlessness. "Well, if you must know, something is bothering me."

"That's a shame, Gordon. I hope it's not spoiling the sex between you and Audrey?

'That's a bit personal, isn't it, Beverley?"

Ignoring my comment, she cocked her head. "What's bothering you, Gordon? Want to tell me about it, I'm a good listener?"

So, I spent several minutes telling Beverley my concerns about Audrey's increasing restlessness.

"Gordon, I think you know why," she told me after she'd reached for my hand and squeezed it firmly.

"Then she's told you why she's restless."

"We talk about a lot of things, Gordon."

Then I asked her about what had also been bothering me since Audrey had become restless. "Does Audrey talk to you about Stephen?"

She answered my question with a brief, "No, Gordon." Then she spoke about something completely different. "I still remember what it was like for me after I spent my first night with Travis," she told me without saying anything more about my question.

"What's that got to do with my wife's restlessness?"

"It's the same for nearly every white woman after she's slept with a coloured man."

Suddenly I got the message. "Are you telling me that my wife restlessness is because wants to sleep with another black man? But I told her I never wanted it to happen again."

"Gordon, calm down," Beverley told me. It was then I realise that my wife and Sloan had left the table. When Beverley griped my hand I instinctively turned back to her. "They're only dancing," she said. I turned back to the dance floor and saw them.

"Gordon, does it bother you watching them dancing?" she asked, after I had watched them for several minutes.

They looked good together. As I watched them it was apparent that he was a good dancer. My wife was still a few inched shorter, even in her heels, and seemed so much smaller than him. Watching them together I realised I had every right to be concerned when he was introduced to us. It was now obvious to me that Sloan was here to be more than a dance partner for my wife.

At the sound of Beverley's reassuring voice, I turned back to her. "It won't be nearly as bad for you the second time."

It took me a moment to realise what Beverley had said. "But I told her never to do it again?"

Beverley's look straight at me and her hand tightened its hold on mine. "Gordon, be honest with yourself. You always knew what your wife's restlessness was about."

"No, I hadn't always known there was going to be a second time," I told her. Now though, I had to admit to myself that I had known what my wife's restlessness was all about. I was going to ask her why it wouldn't be as bad this time, but the band ended the set and Sloan was escorting my wife back to our table.

After she had settled down, Audrey turned to me and took a firm hold of my hand. "Sloan is a very good dancer," she said. "But you know that, don't you, Darling because you were watching us." Then she placed her other hand on my cheek and kissed me, fondly. "I saw you talking to Bev." She stroked my cheek. "Have you been talking about my restlessness?"

As I looked into the eyes of the woman I loved so much. All I could do was nod.

"Good, Darling then you know why Slone is here instead of Travis."

The way she told me left no doubt in my mind. I only had one reply that made any sense. "But I love you."

"I know you do, and I love you too, my Darling." It was almost embarrassing the way she kissed me in front of Beverley and Sloan. Then she stroked the cheek she had previously kissed. "Just remember what Bev tells you, Darling because I am now going to leave with Sloan." My wife kissed my cheek again. "I'll text you before I get a taxi home."

As I watched, they both stood up and with his hand on the small of her back, Sloan ushered my wife out of the restaurant. I then felt Beverley standing next to me. "I'd like to have a dance with you, Gordon," she said and I stood up almost undecided whether to dance with her or chase after my wife. I ended up dancing.

When the dance ended, I wanted to leave but Beverley insisted we went back to the bar for another drink.

"Sloan will treat her very well," she told me when we were seated. "He is really just a big softie," she added. Then she went on to tell me about him and offered some more advice to help me deal with my wife when she returned home.

"When she returns home hug her, kiss her and then take her to bed and fuck the shit out of her." Was the best part. "Doesn't matter how much she protests, just do it," she told me. "Afterwards, made love to her. Then you can ask her about her time with Sloan and make her give you some details." She added.

"Why should I want any details?" I asked.

"Because you can use them to imagine what your wife is doing the next time she is with coloured man. The last thing you want to do is try and ignore what you know your wife is doing. Let your imagination have free reign using everything she has told you. Stimulate yourself until you have to have relief."

I almost asked her if she meant I should masturbate thinking about them. "Really," I exclaimed.

"Yes, Gordon, really," she replied with a knowing grin. "That and everything else I have told you will make it easier. I know other husbands who have been in the same situation as you and this advice has always worked for them. I also know that Audrey will do everything she can to help you get over any feelings of inadequacy, which are quite natural for any husband to have after his wife has been fucked by another man, black or white."

When I left the hotel, not having any idea where Sloan had taken my wife, I was somehow grateful that I had Beverley as a friend.

Alone at home that night, I tried to do everything Beverley had suggested. My problem was that Audrey had refused to tell me anything about her night with Stephen, so my imagination was as limited as my memory of what he looked like. Did I feel inadequate as a man, or as a husband? No, I just felt lost in a situation I didn't really understand or seem to have any control over.

I now accepted that there was always going to be a second time and I was certainly there would be many more times. I also knew that the third time would come much quicker than the second time.

What I also knew was just how much I loved my beautiful wife. It's said that a woman's hair is her crowning glory. Audrey's soft waves of auburn hair has so many shades of brown and gold within it, it had always been her crown of glory, setting off her beautiful face.

A face I loved with her deep, blue eyes and lips so full and soft. I shuddered at the thought of where those lips were now. My horror continued as I thought of him touching her body.

Her wonderfully warm, firm, smooth body. How much I adored her full, soft breasts and her nipples that can become hyper sensitive after only a few minutes of being fondled. Her legs, that were still amazing. She loved me to massage them, especially her feet and the backs of her knees. Sometimes I could make her come just by giving all my attention to the backs of her knees, with a little help from my fingers in her pussy.

Her wonderful pussy, my pride and joy. Her pussy with its soft, sensual lips that opened so beautifully with the encouragement of my tongue. Well it had been mine. Right now, like the rest of her voluptuous body, it was another man's pride and joy.

Audrey returned home by taxi mid-morning on Sunday. I was waiting for her wearing just my dressing gown and hoping I still had it in me to get my cock hard enough to do what Beverley had told me to do and fuck the shit out of her.

She fought quite valiantly for a few minutes but I had no intention of letting her resist me. I was not going to be inadequate however much my wife protested. When it was over I knew I had achieved something, whatever it was. My cock was limp, my balls were empty and there was still the love making part of my repossession to be achieved.

Instead, I left the bed with my wife spread out wide on the wet, crumpled sheets. Her eyes were closed and my ejaculate was oozing out of her pussy. The love making would have to wait till tonight.

Perhaps because Beverley had spoken to her, but that night Audrey did tell me something about her night with Sloan.

"The first time we were both naked I was amazed by how much bigger he was than me. Then when he wrapped his arms around me he was so gentle. Something else was also much bigger than I ever thought it could be."

"He had a large cock?" I suggested.

"Yes, a very large cock. Feigningly large," she emphasised to my concern.

"But it didn't stop you spending the night with him?"

I got a very wistful look. "No, it didn't."

Before I started to make love to my wife I asked her what else they did and she said it was more a case of what he did to her. Not only was he big, he was also very strong. She emphasised his strength by insisting on telling me how muscular his arms and thighs were. "One time when he was standing kissing me, he lifted me up and then lowered me onto his cock. We fucked like that until he came."

I wish she hadn't told me about the kissing part.

My wife then told me about other ways he fucked her. About how much he liked reverse cowgirl so that he could play with her butt. To me it sounded like all they did was fuck until I asked her if they did anything else.

"Of course," she replied quite indignantly. "He had to let me rest occasionally."

I hadn't noticed any difference in the feel of my cock in my wife's cunt earlier today, but then I wasn't paying any attention to such trivia. Now, while I was making love to her I did take notice and decide my wife must have been exaggerating.

During the next five weeks there was some normality in my life. Audrey behaved like the wife I had been living with for the past fifteen years. We ate together and spent evenings reading or watching television. We also went out for a meal on Saturday with friends or for a Sunday carvery.

We also fucked or we made more leisurely love, perhaps a little more often than we used to. The fucking though, never seemed to be as passionate as my wife had promised when I first agreed to her having interracial sex.

Then on Friday afternoon I had a text.

*I won't be coming home after work. Will text again Saturday morning. Love you*

This was the third time she had been with another man, and the first time that I didn't know who she was with. She returned mid-day Saturday and after I had fucked the shit out of her she told me he was black, very black she emphasised and in his thirties. All she would then tell me, even after I almost threatening to kick her out, was that every time they fucked he left her totally satiated.

Thank God, I thought, there was no mention of love.

The next coloured man she spent Friday night with, five weeks later, was in his twenties. "Not the biggest cock," I was informed. "But definitely the most regenerative." When I asked her how often he fucked her she gave me an almost embarrassed smile. "A lot of times," she almost whispered.

Something I had never asked her was how she found these men. When I did ask her, she told me they were all friends of Travis. "Beverley and Travis have an open marriage," she told me. "Don't worry, I know you would never agree to that," she added. Then she hugged and kissed me.

During the next nine months my wife had several more Friday nights and occasionally a Saturday night with her coloured men. As Bethany had suggested, I found that my wife's liaisons just become more and more acceptable until now they were as much a part of our life together as everything else. This meant that between them I was able to live life normally with my beautiful and very loving wife.

I knew there were men whose wives spent many more days away from home on business than Audrey spent with her men, and they were probably getting fucked even more frequently by men their husbands knew nothing about.

Then one Friday I had a text just before I left the office. *I will not be coming home. Bev will see you tonight. Love you*

As I glanced through it, I was so used to her not coming home on a Friday it was a moment before I realise what she had texted. When I read it again I couldn't understand it? Not coming home, what did she mean, and why was Beverley coming to see me?

Beverley arrived soon after I got home. As soon as I opened the door she flung her arms around me. "I'm so sorry Gordon, I had no idea."

"No idea," I repeated with some concern at the state she was in. "What are you talking about."

When eventually Beverley got herself together and both of us were sitting down, she told me about the phone call she had from Audrey yesterday evening.

It all came out, everything my wife had told her. How, that as well as all the black men I thought she was seeing, for the last six months my loving wife had also been seeing Stephen. "The first black man she went with," Beverley unnecessarily reminded me as she looked at me with such sad eyes.

After a pause, Beverley continued. "Audrey told me that she has resigned her job, Stephen has sold his business and they had move away, but she wouldn't tell me where they had gone."

Her sad look had turned to concerned as she was telling me all this. I was dumbfounded and totally speechless as we just stared at each other. Why had Audrey phoned Beverley and not me?