Betrayed

My lovely wife of 31 years, Terri, moaned again as the long, hard, thick invader slid in and out of her sloppy wet cunt. Her passion and vocal encouragement stopped only when she suddenly gasped and held her breath for what seemed far too long, only to shake uncontrollably and let her breath out in long sharp hisses. I knew intimately that sound and that body language! She had cum again for the third time, while the seemingly machine-like pistoning action of this cock continued relentlessly. It seemed to be oblivious to its effect on the quivering, mindless body it was invading. The relentless cumming caused her pussy to exude copious amounts of the earthy-smelling cream which made the ride smoother and easier. So much was produced that it slid down her pussy and into her ass crack, to pool on the previously clean white sheets which Terri had carefully prepared earlier in the day. Judging by the way it slid so easily, she had also freshly shaved her whole groin area as well.

When she had recovered, she said in a hoarse croak, "C'mon baby. I want that monster in my ass for a while. My pussy has had enough for now!" Terri went to turn over to allow easier access to her well-lubricated pucker hole, but instead found her legs quickly lifted up to shoulder height and the rock-hard cock lined up with her ass. Here it paused and slowed to an excruciatingly slow speed to enter almost in slow motion. This caused more moans from Terri, who lifted her hips, or at least tried to, to make the entrance more dramatic and quick. The large bulbous head pushed slowly forward and hesitated briefly to give her 'backgate' sphincter muscles time to accommodate to the stretching. With the ready-made lubrication from her pussy and the eagerness to comply, Terri's ass swallowed the monster fairly quickly, again to moans of pleasure and encouragement. "Yessssss!" was all I heard her hiss.

This was the signal for the pistoning action to resume. This time though, Terri was given the absolute full length of cock as deep as it could go, each and every thrust. Judging by the clean glistening surface of the cock as it emerged each time, Terri had prepared for this as well. An enema must have happened earlier that afternoon along with her other preparations! That's Terri! Always well prepared! Again, she orgasmed. The same cessation of breath followed by uncontrollable shaking and hissed outlet was a sure sign that Terri was in passion heaven. How much more of this could she take? I had never witnessed this level of pure wantonness before.

While she was in the throes of her sixth orgasm (it seemed), the cock slid effortlessly from her now open and stretched ass opening, straight into her still sloppy pussy. This sent Terri completely into Lala land! Six long deep strokes into her pussy... withdraw... six long deep strokes into her ass. Terri could not even hold her breath anymore to cum. She was just a blithering, slobbering, spasming, moaning, crying mess! Her existence was absolutely consumed by the extreme pleasure she was experiencing. What brought it to an abrupt end was when the cock, accompanied by grunts of animal pleasure, spewed forth copious amounts of creamy white cum which was distributed evenly between her ass and cunt. While this was happening, one hand crawled up to her sweaty, flushed breast and roughly pinched a nipple and pulled it hard, painfully hard, to its limit.

Terri screamed, shook so badly on the white king bed that she physically lifted off the bed in a manner which reminded me of someone being electrocuted in a horror movie.

Then she fainted.

There was silence, broken only by a long satisfying sigh by the owner of the cock.

Which wasn't me! Not me! The cock which had so convincingly undone my wife, did not belong to me.

I had just witnessed, unobserved, what my lovely wife did every Tuesday afternoon while I was at work. This time was supposedly her 'workout' time at the local gym which she visited twice a week.

Taking a step back...

I am a primary school teacher, so have very predictable work commitments. At school at set times with each Tuesday afternoon staff meetings which always went to 6pm. This meant I was always home by seven. Terri was always very tired on Tuesday evenings, because of her gym 'workouts', so I usually prepared dinner while she showered and made beds, etc. Tuesday was also her 'washing day' so she always had clean linen on the bed on Tuesday nights and a washing machine full of soiled linen.

Our school principal had a surprise visit from the area inspector, so unexpectedly called off the staff meeting today. I went back to my classroom and finished marking for the day. It was still only 3:30. On a whim, I decided to go home and prepare dinner early and maybe do some remaining house tidying, etc before Terri returned from gym. She had steadily been growing more distant recently and I thought that a candle-lit dinner and relaxed atmosphere with no urgent house logistics might spark some intimacy and re-light the fires of passion between us. As a long-term type 1 diabetic, my ability to maintain an erection was severely compromised. Most of our sex was limited to me masturbating Terri with fingers and sometimes tongue. Her attempts at getting me off usually ended with me taking over and wanking off myself because her hands became sore, or she was tired after cumming. I had resigned myself to this over the years as the complications of diabetes steadily got worse. I did not think it a real problem, as all of our love-making from early marriage had been at my instigation. Terri retained that 'Catholic guilt' about anything carnal, ingrained through a childhood religious education system. Sex was pleasurable most of the time for her, but try as I might, she never lost herself into the passion of it. She never felt inclined to want to try new things at all. The question at the end of most of our sessions was usually, "Did you enjoy that dear?"

It was me who taught her how to masturbate. It was me who was always suggesting different ways of spicing up our sex life, only to be met with, "No. We can't do that." As I said, I was resigned to that fate in our marriage. Surely marriage was about more than just sex? We seemed to get on fairly well, apart from the occasional heated arguments, usually about some money related issue. Recently though, I had noticed her becoming more and more distant from me, often belittling me for my lack of sex drive and failure to initiate any sex at all. She increasingly wanted to control all aspects of our lives and became hard-headed and argumentative when she didn't get her way. I wrote most of it off as the usual rough and tumble of marriage relationships and tried to continue as normal, trying not to provoke unwanted arguing, hoping that it would sort itself out eventually. I was a patient man!

Today, I arrived home as I usually do, by parking in our garage which was a long way from the house. This garage positioning was done so that when our children were young, and were in bed, no car noise would interrupt their sleep. Their sleep time was precious, not only because it kept them healthy, but it also kept us sane! We had quiet time to recharge while they did! I parked and leisurely walked up to our two-story house. Terri's car was there, but it always was on 'workout day', as she said that she preferred the bus then. My head was already in the 'time to clean-up' space as I quietly entered the back door. I am a bit of a handyman, so every door hinge and moving component of our house was well maintained and quiet. Nothing annoyed us more than banging doors or squeaky hinges!

The first thing I noticed was that Terri's handbag was still on the kitchen bench. "She'll be pissed!" I thought. Terri was a stickler for having her purse especially, always close at hand wherever she was. This anomaly corrected my clean-up mentality and I started to notice other things. Her gym clothes, mostly a form-fitting leotard and large towel were on the floor next to the kitchen bench. "What?" I thought, still not fully registering the nasty implications. Then I heard noises coming from our bedroom upstairs. I know the noises that my wife makes when she is having an orgasm and part of me first thought that she was at last using the vibrator that I had bought for her some years ago. But that was swiftly put aside by the knowledge of who my wife was and her ingrained attitudes towards sex. We designed our house to have a parents' retreat upstairs with the rest of the house, including the kids' bedrooms downstairs. "Maybe Terri became suddenly sick and was upstairs," I innocently thought. I carefully and quietly walked up the carpeted stairs. Again, house designed for minimum noise... sleeping kids, etc. I was about to call out to see if she was alright and could I get her anything, when I almost tripped on some shoes on the steps. They were men's shoes!

They weren't my shoes!

Nor were the long trousers, shirt, singlet and socks strewn up the remaining stairs, interspersed with Terri's panties and bra- her sexy ones which only came out during wedding anniversaries! I am not a slow learner, just trustingly unaware that anything like this would be possible. At this point, my logical brain was at odds with the sum amount of marriage experience with its underlying reliance on innocence, trust and belief in the loyalty, love and commitment of the marriage partner. I paused. My skin became sweaty and my blood pressure dropped while my heart momentarily lost its rhythm. Was I having a low sugar episode? I had to sit down on the stairs and regain myself, or I would have fallen down the stairs in a dead faint. "No!" was all I could whisper over and over.

My disbelief turned to anger, an emotion I am not used to. I am usually a quiet, calm, controlled man. Being a teacher, handling thirty different children all day enhanced that in me many years ago. But now that failed me. Adrenalin kicked in and I saw red for the first time in my life. I hadn't even been in a real fight with anyone before. These feelings were completely alien to me. Still, with all of these strange feelings invading my system, a macabre sense of curiosity made me gently and quietly proceed up the stairs and into our two-way wardrobe. One door into the bedroom and another into the upstairs bathroom. By making my way through the ensuite bathroom, I could then go into the large walk-in robe which then connected to our bedroom. At the bedroom door of the wardrobe, I could see clearly into the bedroom. The robe door was slightly ajar and at just the right distance that I could see the bed. I felt like I was watching a horror movie! The actions and plot were all pure Californian porn, but the identity of the main female lead character transformed it into a horror flick! I was on remote control. I could not look away. You know, the knowledge that some graphic gruesome scene was about to play out on the screen, but you keep watching anyway!

Then I saw it. Actually, I had been hearing the moans and grunts all along, but my mind hadn't registered the sounds of passion coming from our bedroom after the initial discovery. It was overloaded with pure rage and disbelief.

I could see the whole scene played out before me in every graphic detail. The raw animal sex sights, smells and sounds came at me in a rush. The hairy ass of some stranger moving in and out between two shaved pale legs with toes pointed to the ceiling. Terri's legs! Him grunting and moaning on each entry. Her eyes closed tightly and brow furrowed, as if concentrating extremely hard on a problem. Her mouth set open with an 'Oh' shape. Her hands trying desperately to hang on the stranger's arms, seemingly to pull him in closer, urging him on. His head tilted downward staring at Terri's tits. Those beautiful tits that I thought were only for me to see. His grunts and loud intakes of breath in time with his thrusts. Her pussy stretching and slurping with each withdrawal and thrust inwards. I don't know how, but my mind allowed me to detach from the scene before me just long enough for my logical brain to suggest I take out my phone and record what I was seeing. Would a sane, logical man do that? I would need this footage later to convince myself that all of this was real and that I was not in the middle of some nightmare. I would need this to confront Terri about what I was seeing. My hands shook and the action of taking out the phone was almost automatic. What I was experiencing was too surreal. Strangely, it was the act of recording the scene which triggered some sense of calmness in my overloaded psyche. It provided the disconnect which allowed my subconscious to cope. I had watched porn before, much of it with Terri when we were younger, but less so while the kids were growing up. "What if the kids found it?" she would always say and rightly so!

The falseness and poor acting of most porn was enough to be able to detach from any sense of reality during the flick, but it was usually titillating enough to get both me and Terri into a mood physically and psychologically for a good session of love-making. While she would never admit it, she liked what she saw usually and the resulting effect on her usually dry pussy told the truth unerringly. She would always be sopping wet after watching some porn, especially softcore porn. Our love for each other providing the catalyst to change pure animal sex, such as it was, into love-making in its purest form. However, this was strangely different. My hand held the phone, while my eyes were glued to the moving act of betrayal playing out before me. This was not some plastic-enhanced well-paid bimbo spreading her legs for some bronzed, well hung stud with a perfect smile and clean feet, over-dosed with Viagra and grunting in some language other than English! This was my wife. My lover. My life-partner. The one whom I trusted beyond doubt. The mother of our grown children. The sexy fortyish woman who worked out, helped neighbourhood charities and said she loved me beyond all else! This was betrayal. Betrayal at the most primal basic level. It wrenched the guts out of me. Literally! I had to stop recording, quickly creep downstairs and back out to the garage where I puked. My body purged the contents of my stomach while my mind wished for a similar purging of the sensory torment that I had just endured.

After what seemed like hours but in reality, probably only 30 minutes, I left our yard and started walking, to where I don't know, but I ended up in some park many miles from our house. There I washed my face, sat down and watched the recording. With the sound turned down, so as not frighten the children playing all around me, their mothers talking with each other on seats around them. Thankfully, none of them saw what I was watching. The destruction of my life and all I had grown to find normal was there in digitised reality on my phone screen. The destruction of our marriage. It was then that I cried. Stomach purged, now it was time for my emotions to let fly and purge my psyche in a similar way. I cried until a sound interrupted me. The warning beep of impending battery failure roused me from my sobbing. The park was empty. As empty as my soul. My body felt light, almost ethereal as I walked, no, floated back home. All the weight that grounded me and my life were taken from me, leaving only a walking shell. I felt like a balloon, floating along with the wind, held only by a string to stop from disappearing into the sky.

It was about 7pm; my usual staff meeting day return time. I was again at home, at my back door when Terri saw me. She immediately realised there was something wrong with me. The dishevelled shirt, red eyes and pale skin were dead give-aways! "Honey, what's wrong? You look really pale. Is everything all right?" She touched my shoulder in a compassionate motherly gesture, leading me to the nearby kitchen chairs. "I'll get you a drink. You smell like you just puked. Are you ok?" Her eyes told me that she was genuinely concerned. I couldn't tell her what really set me off. Not yet.

I just answered in a shaky voice, "Not really. Something upset my stomach. Maybe lunch. Sorry but I puked near the garage. I will clean it up later. Hopefully it isn't catchy. Lots of kids at school are away at the moment with a similar problem." I mumbled something else which I can't recall, but the gist of it was that I was taking a shower and going to bed.

Terri replied, "Ok hon, but take a container with you to bed. If you puke again, it might be on the nice clean sheets! Those damned sheets! They were clean, but now had been soiled by far worse than last night's dinner. They were soiled by the stains of pure betrayal.

I replied a little more forcefully, "It's ok. I will sleep in the spare room until I feel better." And wandered to the spare downstairs bedroom.

And that was it for the next few days. Terri was her normal self. I was on autopilot with work and slept in the spare room, "in case I puked again". I knew I couldn't keep up that excuse for long though. I eventually moved back into our bedroom, but had huge problems sleeping in this cheater's nest. Terri seemed oblivious to my unease and continued in her usual manner. Monday came and I had made up my mind about what to do. I needed to know if this was an on-going thing or was it a, stand-alone. I informed my principal that I would be having an 'unexpected medical procedure' the next day and he organised a temp teacher to take my class. Tuesday morning, I left as usual, but parked a few streets down the neighbourhood and walked back to our street. I knew the back entrances to the yards near our house and carefully, so I wouldn't be observed by any neighbours, made my way to our garage at the back of the house. There I changed into casual clothes and soft socks for walking quietly. It was then a waiting game. I remembered that there was no extra car at home when I arrived home unexpectedly last Tuesday, so I would not be able to rely on the sound of a car arrival to inform me of any 'visitors'. The bastard must walk here.

I crept carefully around our gardens until I was in a spot which allowed me to see our front door while being screened by the hedges and bushes we had planted for privacy from the road. I waited. Terri could be heard going about her chores, totally oblivious to my presence. Her confidence that the normal routine was occurring was obvious. Kitchen, washing up, dishwasher. Lounge, vacuuming and dusting. This went on until about 11:30. Terri then went upstairs. I could just hear the shower followed by a period of silence, followed by the flushing of the toilet. She came back down about 45 minutes later. Dirty sheets in hand, she deposited them into the washing machine. She was wearing her gym clothes and looked freshly showered and shaved. Even now, I could only stare at her slim petite figure. I loved it when she wore her gym leotards. They really accentuated her narrow waist and hips and her beautiful full breasts which still had that upwards perkiness usually only seen in teenage girls. The regular gym sessions really kept her looking at her best and she looked hot, I have to admit. She then opened the front door and left it open so that if someone came, they would not have to hesitate, but come straight in, I supposed. This didn't look good. My hope that what I saw was a momentary lapse into madness by Terri, seemed as if it was a forlorn hope! I didn't have long to wait. About 12:30 he came. I did not know who he was, but he had walked in from the left side of our front gate. My phone took about ten seconds of video which recorded side profiles and even an almost straight-on view of his face. He didn't hesitate. He was straight in and through the door. The next words I heard made my blood curdle.