Confession

I met Emma at a party. I was in the last year of my PhD, studying Maths and Physics with a special interest in superconductivity. The party was a regular occurrence but although there was always booze and a bit of weed no-one got drunk and there was very little messing about. It was a crowd of friends and acquaintances from uni and we enjoyed long relaxed discussions, generally into the early hours of the morning.

I noticed Emma the moment she arrived. She was an exceptionally attractive girl and although not exactly revealing, her clothes were very much designed to accentuate rather than hide her superb figure. She parked herself on the fringe of my group and, while not making any verbal contribution, she listened attentively to everything that was said. I kept sneaking glances at her and admit that I possibly held the floor far more than I usually do.

As time passed the group gradually whittled down, some heading home and others finding somewhere to kip, until she and I were the only ones left. We carried on chatting for a long time until at the end I tentatively asked if I could take her for a drink sometime, even though I would never normally try so date a female so far out of my league. She said, "Why not tomorrow?" and ten months later we were married. It was the start of an idyllic wonderful six years.

Some months into our relationship, laughingly referring to how we met, Emma said, "If I had realised what kind of party it was I wouldn't have gone but once there I became fascinated by what people were saying, especially you. You explained everything so clearly that even I could understand. I only agreed to date you because I wanted to hear more of your ideas but quickly realised that you were the nicest, most intelligent and lovable person I had ever met and I knew I had to hang on to you."

I found a good job in research and for the first four years of marriage Emma worked in admin for an insurance firm. She then changed jobs to work in human resources for the local branch of a national sales organisation, (I can't be more specific because her firm could be too easily identified). She now earned a significantly larger salary but the down side that she was required to spend two nights away from home every year attending the annual sales conference. I found these absences hard to deal with.

As I said, life was perfect with the very first cloud on the horizon appearing in the weeks leading up to her most recent time away. It got particularly bad during the last month when she often appeared preoccupied and I almost felt that she had withdrawn from me. I could only think that it was the impending trip causing this effect but then she had returned from the two previous conferences seeming positively invigorated.

I somehow got through the two days without her although it felt worse than before but perhaps that was just my memory playing tricks. My reward was that when she arrived home the sun had come out because she was completely back to normal, happy, smiling and with a positive glow about her. She smothered me with love but in bed asked to be excused sex on the grounds of tiredness. Faced with my obvious disappointment she kissed me tenderly and promised that during the whole of the following week she was going to give me the best sex of my life.

What a week it was. Every day she wore one on my favourite outfits, prepared a favourite meal and made bed into a fantasy time. We must have gone through our full repertoire of positions and activities and I reckon that my cock was in her mouth more often during those six days than the whole of the previous six months. On the Friday we went out for a very expensive meal but so perfectly cooked that it was worth every penny.

On our return from the restaurant I poured two glasses of wine then, taking mine I sprawled on the settee, feeling that everything was well with the world but when she picked up her drink, instead of taking it to her usual chair, Emma joined me on the settee. Swivelling round to face me and looking deep into my eyes she said softly, "I want to say that I love you with all my heart and that these six years of marriage have been the happiest of my life."

I started to mutter reciprocal words but, talking over me, my wife went on, "I had to tell you that now Jim in case you don't believe me later. You see I've got a confession to make."

Not taking this seriously I grinned and asked light-heartedly, "Is that a small confession or a big one?

"Big," she said, letting the word hang in the air.

I can usually get Emma to smile easily but this time her face remained worried, even tense. "Come on," I joshed, "Surely nothing can be that bad."

"I'm afraid it is, you see I've lied to you right from the start of our relationship. I let you believe that I had only had sex with three men and that's not true at all."

I was a bit surprised but not shocked by this news. I think most girls downplay their sexual history to a potential life partner and I had always been a bit dubious about her admitted trio of lovers. "So how many - a dozen?" I said, deliberately guessing high so that she could make it sound better by coming down.

Emma shook her head sadly, "More. A lot more, I don't actually know how many and what makes it worse is the kind of men a lot of them were. If I wasn't actually in a relationship I'd go to bed with just about anybody just to see if they had what I was looking for."

I'm sure that my face now looked as grim as hers. "And what was that exactly?"

"A big cock, I was hung up on well endowed men."

I most definitely did not fall into that category so I remained silent not knowing quite what to say. Emma reached out to almost touch my hand but then withdrew her fingers, "Let me try to explain," she said quietly. "In the dark with no visual element, I don't think there is a lot of difference between female bodies and I reckon a man's potential pleasure from intercourse is in the range one to seven. In contrast men can be physically very different, so a female pleasure range is zero to ten and can even go negative but to hit that top score needs a talented lover with a nice large cock. Well the second guy to fuck me was just that. He finished up treating me badly but after that I was always looking for someone to make me feel the way he did."

In the past, when I heard it argued whether or not 'size matters' I always privately reasoned that logically it must but I had never heard the rationale described so graphically. "What do I score?" It was the obvious question.

"Four, occasionally five."

I think my face must have dropped badly because my wife hurried on to say, "But that's not the whole story. There is the other side of sex, fondling, teasing, pussy licking and pure imagination. You cannot be bettered in that department, so if you add your two scores together you actually come out better than a lot of men with huge cocks who only know how to poke a girl."

That sounded fine but I felt sure she only said it to save my feelings. "I don't understand why the kind of men they were made it worse?" I asked, mainly for something to say.

"In a normal male female interaction, men chase women and that puts her in charge. On the other hand large cocks are in short supply so men gifted that way are in demand and females chase them instead of the other way round. With most men like that it goes to their heads, they become rather arrogant and feel no need to restrict the more selfish side of their characters. Some turn into real bastards"

"If that was what you were looking for, why the hell did you marry me? From what you've just said, I was the last thing you wanted," I asked feeling suddenly very dispirited.

"Jim I fell in love with you because of what you are, largely because you are so different from that kind of male. I may have been chasing sexual highs but I wasn't happy, in fact most of the time I was miserable and totally disgusted with myself. It was like an addiction. I deliberately sought out dominant arrogant men and let them treat me like shit just because they offered the kind of sex I needed."

Once in a waiting room while glancing through one of the cheaper newspapers I spotted a picture of a well known, rather flamboyant, tycoon standing with his arm possessively round the waist of an exceptionally attractive woman. The contrast between them was startling because she was an absolute stunner and he had to be at least twenty years older than her. The caption which stated that they had just got married went on to point out that she had made her name as one of the top performers in the porn film industry. Although it was very obvious what he was getting out of the deal I did wonder how he felt knowing that his new wife had been fucked by so many men. That thought stuck in my head until I finally decided that he possibly derived a degree of titillation from the fact. The question now was whether I could do the same or would my current feelings of jealousy overwhelm me.

"Did you find your ten?

Emma nodded ruefully. "Yes one, he was called Baz. He was a real swine but I couldn't say No to him. He didn't work and got in lots of fights but he always had stacks of cash. At first he treated me well and I enjoyed the fact that he was a bit of a local celebrity but then he started getting more and more possessive and it deteriorated fast. It got so I couldn't even look at another lad without the danger that it would get him beat up but on the other hand, there were several times after we'd gone to a party together when Baz would blatantly take other girls up to a bedroom, leaving me just sitting there feeling like a fool."

"You put up with that?" I asked incredulously, finding it hard to believe that the female she described was the same woman I knew and loved.

"I did for a long time because I didn't want to lose the sex but in the end I told him that I didn't want to see him anymore. I was even prepared for violence from him but he just said 'Fair enough'. I knew it was too easy and a couple of weeks later he was knocking on my door. I let him in and we went to bed.

From then on for nearly two years that's how it was. Sometimes I didn't see him for three weeks or a month then there he'd be, if it was nice weather I'd find him sitting on the wall outside my flat. We fucked whenever he wanted even when I was dating other guys."

A sudden memory of an incident prompted me to ask what this Baz looked like and my question drew the description, 'Tall and kind of rangy with a rather poor complexion and long dirty yellow hair that he wears in a pony-tail'. This was just what I didn't want to hear because the picture confirmed what I suspected.

By our three months anniversary of going out together, Emma and I still had not yet had full sex but that night I thought I was on a promise. However, when we arrived back at her flat, the above described individual was sitting outside. Seeming a bit flustered Emma said 'I think I know him, wait here and I'll see what he wants.' They spoke for a couple of minutes before he wandered off and Emma returned to say that the guy was looking for someone from another flat. We went inside but my hopes of carnal pleasure disappeared when, almost immediately, Emma complained she could feel a migraine starting. Assured that the only remedy was dose up with pills and try to sleep it off, I had kissed her goodbye and left, feeling concerned but disappointed.

"Have I ever seen this guy?" I asked, already guessing the answer.

My wife nodded. "It was Baz that I spoke to outside my flat that time. I'm sorry love; I didn't intend this to come out." Up until this point she had told her story in a flat, matter of fact way but now she looked uncomfortable as she said, "I knew what he wanted but I told him straight out that I wasn't going to have sex with him any more, because you were special and I thought we might get married. He said 'No problem, I'll go,' and I heaved a sigh of relief – but then he said that first he was going to introduce himself to you and tell you about all the things he and I had done together'. I was in an impossible position so I told him to come back in an hour."

"How long did he stop?"

"All night."

This was another bad answer. The morning after the migraine I was worried and rang early to see how she was. Emma had assured me that she was fully recovered but I was not convinced, partly because her voice sounded funny but mainly because her words had been interspersed with little sharp intakes of breath that I had interpreted as pain. Now that I could see a quite different explanation I had to ask, "Was he going anything while you were talking to me?"

Emma looked down at her glass. "I don't remember."

"Was he doing anything?" I repeated firmly.

"Yes."

"What exactly?"

Emma looked me straight in the eyes. "Jim, why ask when you already know. His cock was in me when the phone rang so I asked him to keep still until I'd finished talking to you but he didn't."

I felt as if I had been punched in the guts but at the same time was aware of a perverse flood of sensation to my penis. Over the years while chatting with other males, when similar situations have been mentioned in stories and anecdotes, everybody thought it hilarious and I admit that I could also see humour when I was not the butt of the joke.

There was a long pause until I asked quietly, "Was that the only time."

There was such a long silence I almost thought that Emma was not going to answer but then she said "Before Baz left that morning I made him swear never to bother me again and for over six months he honoured that promise until he somehow found out about our wedding. Then a few days before the day he rang me and said he'd found an old video we'd made of me sucking his cock. He said that he was going to wrap it up and post it to you as a wedding present. I pleaded with him not to and he told me the only alternative was for me to buy it off him. He said I could easily guess what his price would be and he knew it was one I would enjoy paying."

My mind was racing. It was obvious where this was heading but I couldn't see when she had any opportunity during the hectic days before the wedding.

Emma solved the mystery when she went on to say, "My hen night was the only time when I was legitimately away from you. I'd invited four girls from work and Sylvia, the only friend that I've stayed in touch with from before you and I met. Well I told Syl my problem and she worked it out for me. On the night, we all six went out but brought the evening to a close slightly early then she and I went round to Baz's place in a taxi. I collected the video, gave it to Sylvia then and went back inside to him. Two hours later she hired another taxi to come back and collect me but had to wait outside for half an hour."

At that point my lovely wife stopped speaking and looked searchingly at me, for the first time trying to gauge my reaction to her story. I had already made my decision but, trying to get my words in order, I gained time by retrieving the wine bottle and very carefully refilling both glasses before saying magnanimously, "I don't care. I still love you as much as ever and I won't let this make the slightest bit of difference."

Instead of the expected look of relief, for a moment Emma looked totally disconcerted but then realising my mistake she said, "Jim, that wasn't the confession. What I just said was more of an admission. I told you that first in the hope it might help you understand what I've still got to say.

I was ashamed of my past life but I had nothing to be guilty about, apart from the two times I went with Baz while I was with you and I only did that because I was terrified of losing you. It was blackmail."

Knowing that I needed to prepare for more revelations I took a large gulp from my glass but Emma seemed also to have become preoccupied with her drink and I had to prompt by saying, "But there is something you are guilty about?"

Emma nodded but then qualified by saying, "It's not exactly guilt but I know that what I've done will hurt you and I feel bad about that. When we got married I swore that I would never cheat on you. I honestly believed it at the time and for four years I didn't put a foot wrong even though I was always getting chatted up. Just occasionally it was by a guy I knew would be good in bed and that used to cause a small ache but I was never seriously tempted. Then I joined the sales firm. It was just before the annual national sales conference in London and with it being a last minute booking they couldn't get me in the same hotel as everybody else. I travelled down and in the evening I went down to the bar but it was empty except for two elderly couples. I sat there for a whole hour, missing you, feeling lonely and thoroughly miserable. Then a guy came in. I can't remember what he said to me or what I said to him but within half an hour I was in his room."

"Just like that," I said incredulously.

"Just like that," my wife echoed. "It was as if I had just slotted straight back into my old life. He was just what I needed. We got very little sleep and the second night we met up again to fuck some more."

I didn't want to know but still found myself asking, "What did he look like?"

"I don't remember but I do know he had a very nice cock. I'm sure he was a real operator because he played me like a musical instrument. I think the moment he saw me he knew instantly that I was ripe and ready to be plucked."

I remembered those two days vividly. It was the first time we had been separated and I missed her terribly. One night would have been bad enough but two was a nightmare. I suffered from the lack of her presence but the thought that she might be cheating never even crossed my mind.

"I would never have guessed. When you got back you seemed so pleased to be home, completely natural without any sign of guilt."

"I didn't feel at all guilty, that was the strange thing," Emma told me honestly. "It happened so far away that it seemed completely divorced from our life. I wasn't pregnant and I was pretty sure that I hadn't caught anything so I didn't think I was hurting you. There was no way you would ever find out and it scratched an itch that needed scratching so I was able to argue that it was actually good for our marriage that it had happened."

I could almost agree with her theory. I know that I found what she had just told me far less upsetting than the story about the Baz character. The London affair seemed to have no connection with me where in contrast the other bastard had effectively taken her right under my nose.

"By the time the next year's conference came round my excuses no longer seemed convincing and I promised myself not to make the same mistake again," said Emma continuing her story. "I resolved to always stick with the crowd to avoid temptation but at the very first opportunity found myself sneaking away to where I knew there would be men on the pull. I went with a different man each night that year and neither was particularly spectacular but I did get that special thrill of going into a bedroom with a new man for the first time."

By now I had a heavy heart because this was no longer something which would be easy to forgive. After the above revelation Emma seemed to run out of words and I let the silence stretch to two minutes or more before suggesting, "And this year. What happened last week?"

My wife's eyes met mine but suddenly she seemed to be looking at me from a distance as she said, "All this past year I knew I was going to do it again. As the time drew closer I felt more and more exited but I found it increasingly hard to look you in the face. Somehow I knew it was going to be special and it was. Well I met a guy called Jeff and it was fantastic. On the fucking he scored at least a nine but he was also good on the whole sexual experience. It has got to be the best two days of my life."