Cheating on a Cheating Wife

Libby flushed the toilet, consigning her urine, feces and the sheets of toilet paper she had absolutely shit all over to Melbourne's sewer systems where they belonged. "You will be on a stricter diet this week Jeff," Libby declared as she walked over to the sink and washed her hands. "And gain any more weight, and there really will be trouble. I fucking mean it, I will not have a fat husband. Is that clear Jeff?"

"Yes, of course Libby, I'll try harder to lose the weight," I promised. I looked at my wife as she dried her hands. "Now, how about you come to bed sweetheart? You must have had a long day?"

"I will be going to bed, but you have something to do first," Libby said. She pointed at the toilet, with the cistern having just refilled and I looked into the bowl I had scrubbed earlier in the day. Now there were massive shit stains all over the white porcelain, courtesy of my wife's really big and messy poo.

"The toilet cannot be left in this state, and as I had to clean the one downstairs you will be cleaning all my shit off this one." Libby thrust the toilet brush at me. "Get on with it."

Libby flounced out of the bathroom and to bed, as I collected the toilet cleaner from under the sink and set to work scrubbing my wife's smelly and stubborn shit stains from the toilet. Some of the poo was very hard to remove, and the foul smells of Libby's bowel movements filled the entire bathroom. I was too scared of Libby's temper if I sprayed any toilet freshener around to ease Libby's toilet smells causing her to get upset, and had to breathe through my mouth.

Continuing to clean away Libby's shit from the porcelain, I thought about Todd. Did Libby ever sit down on the loo and take a shit in front of him? When Libby went to the toilet for a poo at work and made a mess of the toilet, would she ask Todd to clean it for her? Knowing Todd, he probably would be delighted to get some toilet paper and wipe Libby's stinky, shitty arse for her if she demanded it, or clean her poo stains from the toilet with his bare hands.

I then thought about myself. Earlier this evening I had been spying on the teenage girl next door, getting my rocks off thinking about what she looked like on the toilet. Perhaps cleaning a dirty and smelly toilet into which my wife had shit everywhere was some sort of punishment for my perversions towards Montana?

Finishing the unpleasant task so no more of Libby's poo remained in the toilet bowl, I went to bed. Libby was already asleep, taking up two thirds of the bed as she snored gently. Making sure not to awaken her, I slid into the remaining third of our Queen Size bed and turned off the light. What would tomorrow bring?

*

I had always enjoyed exercise even before I met Libby. I enjoyed it all the more when I first met her and we went running, swimming, cycling or worked out together. Now, I dreaded exercising with my super-fit wife. The Melbourne Friday morning was a beautiful one dawning sunny and warm, and the songs of the magpies and laughter of kookaburras filled the fresh air tinged with eucalyptus.

However, as I pounded the pavements with Libby behind me barking instructions, I wasn't having so much fun. I didn't have much fun when we returned either, when Libby decided we had not exercised enough and ordered me to do sit-ups, push-ups, planks and burpees with her, me feeling my wife's acid tongue when I began to tire and couldn't keep up with her. She called me a homosexual. Well I guess when Libby described me as a faggot -- or a 'fucking faggot who gave her the shits' to quote my foul-mouthed wife directly - she meant homosexual rather than a bundle of sticks or a forgotten meat dish from England.

About the only redeeming point was that at least my wife -- attired in a fitness top that bared her midriff and naval, shorts so short she might has well have gone out in her panties and white running shoes -- looked hot as she ran along with her boobs and ponytail bouncing up and down.

After separate showers, we dressed for work and went downstairs into the kitchen. On Friday I had to go into the office to review my work with my colleagues and bosses, and have meetings and the like, so I wore a shirt, tie, trousers and shoes. I didn't mind, at least I didn't have a list of chores from Libby to do that day.

I sat at the table watching as Libby meticulously measured out my wheat-germ porridge, skim milk and fresh fruit, then we sat in the kitchen together barely speaking, Libby texting on her phone the whole time and ignoring me. At one time I saw the display on her phone and the name 'Todd Patrick'. Of course Todd, who else would it be?

Libby had already gone when I left for the day, and I had timed my departure well. Walking down the road to catch her bus to high school was Montana. Only she was not alone, with her was another hot 18-year-old girl in her school uniform, in the attractive red-haired form of Montana's best friend Bailey Baxter.

The girls shared the same height and slim figures with large breasts, but Bailey's typical redhead fair complexion and green eyes contrasted from brunette Montana's brown eyes and more olive complexion. Despite the difference in looks both girls had hot teenage bodies to die for, and were equally pretty facially.

Montana always had plenty of friends both female and male, but it was Bailey who was her best friend, or best friend forever to quote teenage girls directly. Like with Montana herself, I had seen Bailey grow up into a young woman too over the past 12 years.

I waved to the girls as I drove by, and they returned the gesture, their smiles making them look even prettier. Two really hot 18-year-old girls in identical blue school uniforms of a blouse, short blue tartan skirts, white knee-length socks and black Mary Jane shoes was a distracting sight, and I nearly drifted into a kerb when I reached the roundabout at the end of the street, but fortunately corrected my steering just in time so no harm done. If I had hit the kerb and damaged the car, I might have attracted a bit of attention from the police had I explained that I was distracted by two teenage girls in school uniform. I might well have found myself on a register, with an order banning me from going within 200 meters of a school, a curfew and having to check in at a police station three times a week.

The day at the office went pretty well, but my good mood faded when I turned into my driveway and saw a vehicle only too familiar parked on the front lawn. It was a large four wheel drive utility vehicle with personalized number plates that read 'The Todd'.

Young male drivers of these type of cars drove them like they owned the road -- I had seen a similar vehicle cut across three lanes of traffic without indicating on the Westgate Bridge one time with the driver giving obscene hand gestures to those who beeped him - and Todd was no exception.

Parking my car next to Libby's in the garage, I looked at the unwelcome four wheel drive as it sat there on my lawn, seeming to mock me. I would have loved to get behind the wheel of a massive monster truck and crush 'The Todd', preferably with Todd still inside it but of course I could not do this. I had to bite my tongue like I always did.

In many ways these vehicles were penis extensions for the young men who drove them and were a menace on the roads all over Melbourne, but this wasn't true for Todd. He had a massive penis that would put a bull elephant, rhinoceros or water buffalo to shame, a penis only too well acquainted with my wife's vulva.

I wondered if Todd was fucking Libby in the house at the moment, but doubted it. Although pretty audacious, Libby knew I was due home around now so presumably nothing too bad was going on at the moment.

As soon as I stepped inside, I could hear my wife's giggling laugh and Todd's stupid guffaw coming from the living room. I walked in there and several things caught my eye.

All six feet three inches of Todd was lounging on the couch opposite from Libby like he owned the fucking house, his tee-shirt and shorts accentuating his muscle tone and his manhood. His feet clad in running shoes were resting on the coffee table. I wasn't allowed to put my feet on the table, Libby never permitted it, but Todd obviously got an exception from this strict rule.

Libby was sitting barefoot in an armchair dressed in a white blouse and a black miniskirt just that little too short for a woman of 39-years-old. The top buttons of her blouse were open, and one could see her white bra and her cleavage. Her knees were slightly open, showing the white fabric of her knickers to Todd, and the young man seemed to be enjoying the view up the skirt of a woman medically old enough to be his mother.

"Hi Todd, hi Libby," I said, going into the living room.

"Hi Jim," said Todd, giving me the smug look of a man who was screwing another man's wife.

"It's Jeff," I said.

"Jeff, oh yeah, that's right," said Todd dismissively. "I keep forgetting."

"Hi Jeff, Todd and I are just doing some planning for the trip to Adelaide for the fitness convention in two weeks," said Libby, explaining Todd's presence. "You hadn't forgotten, had you?"

"No, hadn't forgotten," I said. Five days in South Australia with Todd and squad in tow. Would my wife behave herself? I doubted it.

"Jeff, there's some low fat coconut water for you in the fridge," said Libby.

"Thanks," I said, going into the kitchen fridge and taking out the glass, sipping at the slightly white colored liquid and taking a sip. It was so bland that I might as well have been drinking distilled water. I thought again about how I was allowed to drink a single small bottle of beer tomorrow, and opened the fridge in anticipation.

However, I stopped short. There was no beer to be seen. I looked again in case I had put it on a different shelf or Libby had moved it, but both bottles were missing. I heard Libby and Todd laughing in the living room and thought again. Did they have beers when I came in? Thinking back, I swear I saw them with beer, but couldn't be sure.

Only one way to find out. I walked into the living room, stopping short as I saw both Libby and her toy boy lover raise a bottle each to their mouth and take a drink of beer. My beer!

Libby noticed my presence in the lounge room. "Anything wrong, Jeff?"

"Um Libby, is that my beer you and Todd are drinking?"

Libby shrugged her shoulders, and looked at me. "Yes, we were thirsty. You can buy some more."

"I'll get some at the shopping center tomorrow," I said.

"No!" snapped Libby.

I was surprised. "Excuse me?'

"You're not allowed to buy any more beer until scheduled, and that's in two weeks' time," Libby asserted. "And only then if you lose that extra kilo and a half. If you put on weight Jeff, you lose your treats. You should be thanking Todd and I drinking the last of this beer and helping with you keep to your diet."

"Well, I guess I'll buy some more in two weeks when I lose that weight," I suggested meekly.

"You guess right," Libby said, staring me directly in the eyes letting me know who was boss in this house.

To emphasize this, she raised the beer bottle to her lips and took a gulp, and a smirking Todd on the couch did the same. Having consumed his beer -- technically my beer but as Todd was fucking my wife I don't think he would have felt too bad about drinking my beer as well -- Todd let out a burp so loud that the panes of glass in the living room windows seemed to rattle. I honestly thought he had thrown up on the floor so massive was his belch.

He and Libby thought this hilarious and through her giggles my wife said, "You think that was loud Todd, you haven't heard anything yet."

With that my wife opened her mouth and released a massive burp, way louder than the one that had come out of Todd's mouth.

"Fuck Libby, how did you do that?" Todd exclaimed, he and Libby laughing hysterically at their belching after drinking my beer like a couple of teenagers who had found the beer keg at a party.

I retreated upstairs to get changed and went into my study. I don't think my absence was missed by either my wife or her toy-boy lover who sat drinking my beer while thinking about the next time he would get into my wife's knickers.

*

To my utter surprise, Libby made herself available to me when we went to bed, long after lounge-lizard Todd had driven away in his huge four wheel drive that matched his ego. It was she who instigated it, and I was not sure why. Maybe she felt bad about Todd and her drinking all my beer? Maybe she wanted to give me more exercise to lose that extra 1.5 kilograms and sex was a good start? Or maybe she was horny for Todd but unable to get it off tonight without looking suspicious, and I as her husband would substitute for her younger lover?

I didn't waste too much time speculating, I knew I was going to get into Libby's knickers and that was something I definitely wanted to happen. Undressing down to our underwear, Libby barefoot and wearing a white bra and white bikini-style panties, and me dressed in only green underpants, we made out on the bed. Libby's hands touched my erection through my undies, and I felt my wife's tits through her bra and her bottom and the outline of her pussy through her panties.

Sliding off my underpants, I watched as Libby took off her bra to show her tits and her knickers and my erection rose as I saw my wife's blonde pubic hair, her pussy and her bare bottom. After more fooling around, Libby jerking me off and me finger-fucking her up her fanny with my fingers getting covered in sticky pussy juice as well as teasing the sensitive skin separating her vulva and her anus, Libby lay flat on her back and spread her legs wide, showing off her snatch to me.

I got on top of Libby to mount her and pushed my erection deep up her hot, wet and sticky cunt, my manhood filling Libby's vagina nicely, my wife gasping as I entered her. I fucked Libby in the missionary positon, and while it was obviously was pleasurable, it was some of the most vanilla, Patrician sex one could imagine.

While I had grown to detest my domineering wife's loud voice and foul mouth, years ago when we were younger it was a real turn on when Libby got going during sex, screaming and shouting and swearing, turning the air blue. Tonight she just lay there with her legs open as we fucked, staring at the ceiling. We were like a church-going married couple having sex in 1955 than a copulating couple in the modern day.

I had little doubt my wife was wishing it was not me on top of her but her younger lover Todd, and that stung. However, as I pushed deep inside Libby, I found myself fantasizing that it was not my wife's twat I was fucking, but the tight teenage twat of young Montana next door. And it wasn't the first time during sex with Libby that I had imagined I was having sex with Montana instead.

Still, the musty feminine smells of Libby's aroused pussy were a huge turn on, and it wasn't long before my orgasm swept over my body, my balls ejaculating a stream of sticky white semen out of my cock and up into my wife's pussy, the sperm spraying up past Libby's cervix and into her birth canal. However, as Libby had an IUD it prevented any sperm swimming around her uterus and up her fallopian tubes to find any eggs released by her ovaries.

Libby's IUD was great at preventing her getting pregnant and meant that we didn't have to worry about condoms or Libby taking the pill. However, it also meant that Todd got to hump my wife without a condom too.

As soon as I came, so did Libby. The toes on my wife's bare feet clenched, her legs flew outwards and she squealed as the orgasm went from her clitoris and through her vagina and up her rectum, a wave of sticky pussy juice saturating my groin and adding to the smell of vagina in the bedroom. I pulled my dick out of Libby's cunt, and admired her sticky crack covered in female wetness and residual semen.

Getting our breaths back post-coitus, Libby and I kissed and caressed before she said, "Shower time," and led the way into our bathroom on her bare feet, me admiring Libby's bare bottom on the way there.

Being in the bathroom with Libby for a shower after sex was much better than being in the bathroom with her last night, where she sat on the toilet and had a massive smelly shit while interrogating me about how I had gained another half a kilo when I was supposed to be on a diet.

Libby and I kissed and caressed under the warm water droplets, and watching my wife wash her boobs, bottom, pussy and anus was a turn on, so much so I could feel the stirrings of another erection. I watched the soap running down Libby's legs to her bare feet and the shower floor, and enjoyed seeing Libby's triangle of blonde pubic hair filled with suds and bubbles as she washed her cunt.

However, in my mind's eye Libby shimmered and vanished and was replaced with a naked Montana, the young girl washing her pussy in front of me. My imagination was struggling with one thing that I didn't know, and that was whether Montana had visible pubic hair. My wife had pubes because like me Libby was a Generation Xer and it was more common for middle aged women to have pubic hair. It seemed young women of Montana's age completely removed their pubic hair, but given Montana's like for retro-style things perhaps she was an exception and if one looked down the front of her knickers one would find a full bush of brunette pubic hair? It was fun to speculate, but I had zero chance of getting into Montana's teen panties, so I would never know for sure.

Our shower finished, Libby and I turned off the shower and dried off, Libby putting on clean white panties and an oversized tee-shirt and me boxer shorts before we went to bed. Libby seemed happy enough with sex tonight, but I knew that I was just a warm-up for what she had planned tomorrow evening with somebody else not me.

*

On Saturday mornings, we were always up early doing chores and it was the day where Libby prepared all her super-healthy food for the week ahead. I knew better than to go into the kitchen and bother my wife while she was concentrating unless I wanted to get screeched or sworn at, or have a zucchini thrown at my head which happened one time when Libby was doing this during her monthlies and I asked her a dumb question.

Today I noticed that Libby seemed distracted. She kept looking at the clock in the kitchen, her wrist watch and at the time on her phone, as though she couldn't wait for the day to pass. "What are you clock-watching for my dear?" I mumbled sarcastically when I was out of Libby's earshot. The question of course was 100 percent rhetorical. I knew very well what that wife of mine was eagerly anticipating, and it sure as fuck didn't involve me.

I went upstairs to tidy and dust my study, mainly because it was safer, but because there were more interesting things to see in garden of the house next door. Like us the Miles family had a swimming pool, and sometimes I would be treated to the sight of Montana, her best friend Annabel and other girlfriends of the pair from their school using the pool in warm weather. But as it was now into autumn, the Victorian weather was starting to cool off leading up to winter, so there were no nubile, barefoot teenage girls dressed in bathers and bikinis there today.

Instead, my attention went to the clothes line. There was nothing on it yet, but this changed very quickly when the back door opened, and out stepped Montana in a cute pair of short denim overalls over a white tee-shirt, sneakers and socks on her feet. She carried with her a basket of laundry.

From my position behind the blinds, I watched intently as Montana began to remove her clothes for the line. She was certainly a girl who liked routines, doing her laundry every Saturday morning without fail. And I was always there watching her hang out her clothes.