Audrey Ch. 01

When a couple achieve a breakthrough with a relationship issue, it's tempting to believe that things are 'fixed'. This is what happened with Becky and Bryan Sandford. In the year following the intense two-day period they came to refer to as 'The Night of the Great Fuck' (as told in The Domestic Equality War), their day-to-day life seemed less arduous and sex became an almost nightly occurrence. In short, they couldn't keep their hands off each other.

But one of the uncomfortable realities of human nature is that when something is good, we tend to take it for granted. It takes a highly conscious person to continually appreciate what is working in their lives and not focus on what might be missing -- and neither of our protagonists could be accused of being highly conscious people. They were a man and a woman in their thirties, intelligent and well-meaning, loving parents to their five-year-old daughter, Tara, and perhaps doing better than most. But both had massive egos and their new ability to communicate with each other--both verbally and sexually--became the kind of pride which can so easily lead to complacency and arrogance.

One night, husband and wife were in bed together, both enjoying the afterglow of some languorous lovemaking. Becky was lying on her side and Bryan was spooning with her, his still-hard cock comfortable between the cheeks of her buttocks, his hand covering her breast. He felt the woman nestle her body into him, like a cat making itself at home on his lap. She let out a deep, satisfied sigh and they lay quiet for a while.

'Bryan?'

'Hmm?'

'Do you like being married?'

'I like being married to you.'

'Oh, good answer.'

Bryan contracted his arms, squeezing her body hard enough to hold her immobile. He put his mouth to her ear and when he spoke, his voice was cold.

'I didn't say that to score points.'

Bryan felt the woman's body go tense as she realised she was being rebuked. He felt her breathing speed up, along with her heart rate. He knew she was becoming wet. When she spoke, she used her scared little girl's voice.

'Darling, I'm sorry...'

'Becky, why did I marry you?'

'Because you love me?'

'Try again.'

'Because you wanted my cunt...'

'That's better.'

'And you wanted to knock me up...'

'And?'

'And you want me to be your slut...'

'Lift your leg, please.'

Becky instantly obeyed, holding up the raised limb with a hand under the knee. She whimpered as Bryan manoeuvred himself behind her, his erect cock seeking her gash. It brushed against her swollen vulva and she let out a groan.

'You're dying for this, aren't you?' he said.

'Yes...'

'You really are my slut.'

'Yes...'

'Say it.'

'I'm your slut!'

Bryan plunged in. His cock was buried up to the root and Becky let out a cry, her hand still holding up her leg. He fucked her with firm, hard strokes, her cunt so wet, it made squelching noises. The sound turned both of them on and suddenly, without thinking, Bryan said:

'By the way, I'm fucking Audrey next week.'

Becky screamed and wet the bed. Bryan's cock was engulfed as she thrashed and shuddered, burying her face into the pillow to scream as she was hit by orgasm after orgasm. Bryan held her tight, part of him in awe at the sheer beauty of a woman in total abandon, another part wondering what the hell he had just unleashed.

*************************

'Audrey' was one of the mothers who patiently waited in the playground at home-time at Tara's school. Neither Becky nor Bryan knew her real name, but she reminded Becky of Audrey Hepburn from Breakfast at Tiffany's and Bryan had instantly known who she was talking about. She had a little boy called Max who was in Tara's class, black-haired and dark-eyed like his mother. That much they learned from their daughter. The woman had a penchant for the kind of white socks and round-toed shoes usually worn by Catholic schoolgirls, with a strap across the foot ending in a buckle. She stood waiting like a schoolgirl too, feet together, all prim and proper, her hands clasped modestly in front of her. Yet her fine-boned face and petite, slender figure definitely belonged to a woman and Becky reckoned 'Audrey' would be an absolute whore in bed.

It was all speculation, of course. Becky and Bryan enjoyed talking sex and one of their favourite topics was guessing who might be good in bed and who not. Bryan would make up imaginary encounters, sometimes telling Becky he had cheated on her, and his stories would make her good and horny. But as they lay sprawled over each other in the sweaty aftermath of Becky's latest multi-orgasmic fit, he found himself trying to remember when she had ever reacted quite like this. As he pondered the subject, Becky's hand flopped around and finally found his. She gave his fingers a squeeze and when she spoke, her voice was hoarse.

'I want you to promise me something,' she said.

'What?'

'When you have sex with another woman--'

'Becky...'

'--I want you to tell me. And I don't mean a "confession". I want you to fuck me and then tell me all the details of the sex while you fuck me.'

'Becky, I'm not going to do that.'

'Why not?'

'Because...'

Bryan's mind stumbled around, looking for an answer that didn't sound like it came out of a church pamphlet. Becky let go his hand and reached for his cock.

'Bryan...' she said. 'You're rock hard.'

'I can't help that.'

'I know. That's the point.'

Becky moved to lie on top of him, as though he were a giant rug. She leaned on his chest and looked down into his face, a wicked glint in her eye.

'I know you, Mr Sandford,' she said. 'And under all that self-righteous, Nice Guy bullshit is an Alpha Male who wants to fuck other women. I'm not suggesting you go out and fuck everything that moves. But a woman like Audrey? I think you'd love it.'

'Becky...'

'Promise me.'

'No.'

'Promise me!'

'Becky, I can't make a promise I can't reciprocate!'

'What are you talking about?'

'I don't want you having sex with other men.'

'Then I won't.'

Bryan opened his mouth to say, 'But that wouldn't be fair', then changed his mind. Even in his head, it sounded whiney and Becky had a look in her eyes that he knew well. It was the look of a woman who would claw a man's face off if he showed weakness. Plus, who was he kidding? He was massively turned on.

'I tell you what,' said Bryan. 'I want you to fuck me as though you're Audrey. If you get me to come inside you, that seals my promise. But if I don't, there's no deal. Agreed?'

Becky smiled.

She pushed herself up and repositioned her body so that she was astride her man. She moved her hips so that her vulva pressed teasingly against his cock, the lips of her labia opening slightly. Bryan's hands found the smooth skin of her thighs and he looked up at his woman's beautiful smiling face.

'Close your eyes,' she said.

*************************

Becky arrived at the school five minutes before Tara was due to be let out. The school building was like a lot of giant metal and glass shoeboxes arranged on a grey asphalt playground full of waiting parents, mostly mothers. Standing near the glass-panelled door with the ladybird poster was 'Audrey'. She wore a beret the colour of cinnamon with a white scarf and was smaller than almost every woman around. Becky went straight up to her.

'Excuse me,' said Becky. 'But are you Max's mother?'

'Ye-e-es.'

The other woman had large brown eyes and they were looking a little worried. Becky quickly said:

'Well, I understand from my daughter that he has a thing for trains.'

Becky had no idea why she said that. It was the first thing that popped into her head, based on an offhand comment by Tara that Max was always drawing steam engines. But 'Audrey' laughed out loud, her eyes now merry and self-deprecating. It turned out that Max was crazy about trains, had bedding and wallpaper with trains, not to mention books, DVDs and toys featuring the likes of Thomas the Tank Engine. Becky couldn't have come up with a better icebreaker if she had hired a private investigator.

That short interchange was the beginning of Becky's campaign to befriend the other woman. Her real name was Sarah Kettleman and she was a single mother. She said very little about Max's father, other than that they were divorced and Max had never met him. Perhaps unsurprisingly, she was a former Catholic schoolgirl, having received a private education and later acquiring a degree in English. She was well-spoken and articulate, but Becky had the feeling Sarah played up the 'posh girl' a little bit too much, as though she had something to prove. It perhaps explained why she was always standing alone while the other mothers chatted, and indeed Sarah seemed glad that someone was finally talking to her.

Fortunately for Becky, Tara and Max got on, so she and Sarah could meet up for play dates and coffees. Sarah earned her living as a freelance writer-slash-content developer, so most of her work was done via her laptop and she had flexible hours. 'I do most of my best work in the evenings,' she told Becky. 'Besides, what else is there to do?' Her self-proclaimed dating history was dismal.

Bryan stayed in the background throughout this process. He introduced himself to Sarah at the school and would exchange polite words as they waited for their respective children, but he kept conversations to a minimum. He would also listen in silence when Becky talked about 'Audrey', but never ask any questions. Becky initially put it down to a reluctance to show too much enthusiasm to his wife about the prospect of fucking another woman. But as time passed and Bryan never said a word, Becky began to wonder.

One evening, Bryan had his feet up on the couch reading a novel when Becky came in and sat by his leg. She pulled the book from his hand, put the bookmark in before closing it, and then held it captive on her lap as she looked at him. He gave her an ironic smile.

'Something bothering you?' he said.

'Audrey thinks you don't like her.'

'Her name's Sarah.'

'Bryan, don't get all self-righteous with me! We both know how much you'd love to fuck her!'

'Yes, but not at all costs.'

Becky's face darkened.

'What does that mean?'

'Listen,' said Bryan. 'What you're doing right now is called "grooming".'

'No, Bryan, it's called seduction. It would only be grooming if you did it.'

'Sarah thinks you're her friend.'

'I am her friend!'

'And yet you want me to have sex with her?'

'Bryan, if you'd heard all the dating horror stories I've heard, you'd realise how much of a favour we'd be doing her!'

'We?'

'Yeah, well ... she's not the kind of woman to shag a friend's husband behind her back. She'll have to know I'm in on it.'

'Becky, you're making her sound suspiciously like a good person.'

'She is a good person!'

'Then why are you...'

Bryan's voice trailed off. He looked at his wife nonplussed. Becky's expression was serious, even earnest.

'You really don't see it, do you?' he said.

'No, you're the one who doesn't see it.'

Becky reached out and took his hand.

'Do you remember the Night of the Great Fuck?' she said.

'Of course.'

'And do you remember the kind of marriage we had before that night?'

Bryan looked down at the slender hand holding his. Yes, he remembered that all right. The slender hand gave a tug to indicate its owner wanted his eye contact again, and he gave it to her. Becky's eyes were hard and determined.

'I never want to go back to that,' she said.

'Neither do I.'

'Then stop trying to talk me out of this! And stop trying to convince me we're doing something immoral! Sarah is a grown woman of twenty-nine who has a child of her own and is running her own freelance business. I think we can trust her to make up her own mind, don't you?'

Becky let go his hand and resumed holding his book hostage. Bryan frowned and stared at it. Becky drummed her fingers on the cover.

'I know what you're thinking,' she said. ' "People Wouldn't Approve". Well, this is our marriage and we decide what happens in it! And if we decide to invite a woman into our bed for a night of sex, that's nobody's business but ours. Right?'

'Yes, I agree,' said Bryan.

'Do you want to have sex with this woman?'

'Of course I do.'

'You're not going to chicken out at the last second?'

'I think you already know the answer to that.'

Becky gave him a long, appraising look. Then she smiled and held out the book. Bryan reached out and she pulled it back at the last moment.

'I'm going to invite Sarah here for dinner,' she said. 'Just the three of us. And if something happens, it happens. And if it doesn't, it doesn't. Agreed?'

Bryan looked her in the eye for a long moment. Then he moved forward, put his hand behind her head and pulled her to his mouth. He kissed the woman long and deep, communicating with his lips and tongue how turned on he was and how much he loved her. Becky melted in the intensity of his kiss, sighing in dreamlike surrender. By the time he was finished, her eyes were unable to stay fully open and she looked at him in wonder. He smiled and held up the book.

'You ... bastard...' she murmured.

Bryan gave her a quick kiss on the mouth. Then he gave her thigh a slap.

'Go on now, get out of here.'

'Are you sending me away?'

'Just for a half hour,' he said. 'I want to finish my chapter. And you need to invite Audrey to dinner.'

*************************

Becky organised the dinner for a Saturday evening and asked her parents to take Tara for the weekend. If something did happen with Audrey, it might spill over into Sunday morning and she didn't want any awkward situations. She also laundered the bedding during the week so that it would be fresh by Saturday.

Bryan let her get on with it. He had his misgivings but at the same time, he couldn't deny the effect this was having on her sex drive. Becky was insatiable. She needed daily fucking -- sometimes more -- and her growing shamelessness was a wonder to behold. Bryan would see his woman sprawled out naked over the bed or floor and think that he had never seen her look so beautiful. Playing the Alpha Male in bed had an effect on him too. At work, he stood up straighter, spoke more assertively, and held eye contact with both men and women way more than before. People took him seriously. It was a good time for both of them.

When the evening itself arrived, Becky cooked while Bryan cleaned the house and laid the table. Becky had bought candles, some fat ones and a few thin ones for the candleholders and told Bryan to place them around the dining area of their kitchen-dining room.

'Are you sure?' he said. 'We don't want to give Audrey the wrong idea.' He winced. 'I mean, Sarah.'

'Yeah, we're going to have to watch that,' said Becky, as she opened the oven to check the roast potatoes.

The doorbell rang precisely on the appointed hour. Husband and wife exchanged a glance, then Bryan went to answer the front door.

Sarah stood on their doorstep, feet together, toes apart, and wine bottle in hand, making Bryan think of a ballet student going to a party after practice. Her black hair was piled elegantly on her head, held in place by a tortoiseshell hair grip. Her lipstick and mascara made her look faintly seductive without being overdone.

'Hello, Bryan,' she said in her soft, posh voice.

'Good evening,' he said, stepping back. 'Please come in.'

'Is my car going to be all right out there? I saw a "resident's parking" notice.'

'Yes, but that won't kick in until eight in the morning. So ... so yes, it's all right.'

He had nearly said, 'So unless you're staying the night...' and only just stopped himself. Bryan smiled and ushered the lady inside, closing the door and hanging up her coat. She gave him the bottle of wine and he led her to the kitchen-dining room where Becky was busy at the cooker. Sarah went straight over to join her, the two women embraced, and then started talking like old friends as Becky made the finishing touches to dinner.

Bryan watched the two women chatting away. They were utterly charming together. He had never thought of his wife as tall, but standing next to the petite Sarah, Becky looked like a Russian athlete. When she lifted the lid off a pot, Sarah had to go on tiptoe to look inside. Her skirt lifted and Bryan saw legs and ankles so slender, they would fit perfectly into his large hands. He put the wine bottle on the table and left the room.

Upstairs in the bathroom, Bryan splashed cold water on his face and patted the back of his neck. Then he sat on the edge of the bath and stared at the floor. He was shocked at how badly he wanted this. At the moment Sarah went on tiptoe, he'd felt a lust so intense it short-circuited his brain. He would have to concentrate to behave normally, to treat her like a dinner guest.

'Come on, Bryan. Snap out of it.'

He went to the sink and splashed more water on his face. Then he dried it with the roughest towel he could find and, after a few deep breaths, took himself downstairs to join the women.

The dining room was lit with candles and the table was laid so that Bryan sat at the end with a woman on either side. Becky's idea. She had cooked chicken chasseur with roast potatoes and string beans in butter, and she served the food as Bryan poured the wine. The three of them tucked into the meal and before long, everyone relaxed and the conversation became lively. Sarah had some hilariously fucked-up stories about being a Catholic schoolgirl and there was also a spirited comparing of notes about the teachers at the school of their own children.

But as the evening wore on, Becky found herself grow increasingly restive. Bryan was being a great listener, of course, and Sarah was really opening up to him. But Becky had expected him to be a little more flirtatious -- something he was good at -- and he simply wasn't doing it. Becky had tried dropping in the occasional suggestive remark herself, but the last one had bombed horribly and she didn't dare try another one. She wanted to kick Bryan's leg under the table. They were on the after-dinner coffee and the way things were heading, Sarah would be saying, 'Thank you for a lovely evening' and that would be it.

They had finished a bottle of red wine and were onto the second. Becky saw that Sarah's glass was empty and moved to refill it.

'Oh, no, thank you,' said Sarah, interrupting what she was saying to Bryan. 'I still have to drive home.'

'You could stay the night,' said Becky. 'We have a spare room.'

Sarah looked uncomfortable. Becky turned to her husband.

'Right, Bryan?'

Bryan gave her a quick, angry glare. Then he reached for his own wine glass and, with finger and thumb on the stem, began turning it this way and that.

'Listen, I don't want to spoil a lovely evening,' he said, 'but this is the first time I've got to meet Sarah properly.'

'Bryan!'

'No, he's right, Becky,' said Sarah. 'I'm really touched that you feel this comfortable with me, but you and I have spent a lot of time together and that's not true of me and Bryan. It wouldn't be fair.'

Becky swallowed what she was about to say and nodded in pretend agreement. Still, she was frustrated and she refilled her own glass to commiserate with herself. Meanwhile, Bryan turned to Sarah and said:

'I'm glad you're not offended.'

'Why would I be offended?' said Sarah. 'This is your home! I'm just glad that you don't dislike me!'

'You thought I disliked you?'

'Well...' Sarah twiddled with the stem of her wine glass. 'Whenever I saw you at the school, you would be kind of distant. I was worried that you disapproved of my being friends with Becky.'