He Fucked My Girl Ch. 08

So it was the right time to end it with Ricky. It bothered me she found him so hard to resist. But he'd be deployed away soon, and then it would be over with him.

The next month was hard. Jen was withdrawn. She was dealing with breaking up with a man she liked a lot, even loved somehow. I was supportive and understanding, but mostly I gave her space. For her part she never mentioned Ricky to me, not wanting to hurt me. I guess we were both healing.

I guess I hoped Jen would still be as exuberant and full of life as before, when she'd been dating Ricky. I hoped she'd be as lively and cheerful with me, as with Ricky. But of course that didn't happen. Although we were still technically newlyweds, we were long passed the infatuation period of our relationship. Jen lost that extra bounce in her step, and it really bothered me. I didn't say anything to her, but I found myself wishing our relationship could be the rocket blast high flying romance she'd had with Ricky, instead of the slow and steady relationship ours had always been. In truth, I think I was more afraid Jen would crave what she'd had with Ricky.

But we were healing and the weeks passed. Don't get me wrong, we held hands and snuggled and kissed, we talked and laughed and made love. We loved each other, and things were getting better and back to normal.

I have to admit I missed the excitement of the Game. Jen was as pretty as ever, and male heads turned wherever she went. I got a charge seeing other men look at her, and she got hit on all the time. She wasn't as outgoing as before, though, when she might have spent a few minutes flirting with a guy before politely turning him down. Often in the past she'd flirted right in front of me, which really turned me on. But she was more reserved now.

I missed that part of her. And I have to say it affected our sex life. We still made love as much as before. But it was plain vanilla sex, if you know what I mean. The kinkiness and edginess weren't there. I hoped it would come back over time, after we'd both healed some more.

So that's how it stood as of 2 months and a few days after Jen broke up with Ricky. And then it all got turned upside down. That's when Jen got a call from a distraught Melody. Paul had been killed by enemy fire in Afghanistan.

Of course, Jen went over to help comfort Melody. Other friends of Ricky would be there, and none of them (including Melody) knew the whole story. Out of respect for Ricky, she didn't wear her wedding rings. As far as those people knew, things had just not worked out and Jen and Ricky had broken up.

When Jen returned later that day, I asked if Ricky had been there, and whether they'd spoken. She said yes to both questions. I asked if he'd hit on her. She said yes again.

This was a good example of the ass Ricky was, using Paul's death as a chance to hit on Jen. What bothered me was how disturbed Jen seemed by seeing Ricky again. I asked her if she'd been tempted by his offer, and she said she'd spent most of the time by Melody's side. Our love making that night was more frantic and urgent than it'd been for a while, although there was no pillow talk as we made love.

The funeral was the next day. That morning Ricky called. He'd been given the job of driving Melody to the funeral. He asked if Jen would come along to help comfort Melody. I knew what Ricky was up to but what could I say? As it turned out, Melody (being from Minnesota) didn't have many girlfriends in NYC, and I knew it would be a great comfort to her if Jen was by her side. I told Jen she needed to do it (anyway she was already planning to go to the funeral), so she agreed.

Jen dressed in a simple knee length black dress, black hose and low heeled pumps. She didn't try to dress up but she still looked spectacular, since she looked amazing no matter what she wore. Ricky picked her up from our apartment, but he didn't come in farther than the foyer. I couldn't stand the thought of seeing him, much less shake his hand. Jen gave me a big hug and kiss, and then she went with him.

When she got home that night she was quiet. She hadn't fucked Ricky, I could tell. But I knew Jen as well as one person could know another. She wore what I called her "cum face." She was aroused beyond belief. Her pussy ached. She needed fucked. She was like a drug addict, and she desperately needed a hit. And I knew it wasn't me she needed, it was Ricky. The thing was, I needed it too.

I sat down with my wife and we talked it over. The rules were simple. They'd fuck at our loft, never at his apartment. She wouldn't sleep with him, he'd leave after they fucked. She would not have any contact with him outside our apartment unless I knew about it, no telephone calls or even texting. There would be no dating, just fucking. Also, he had to wear a condom, he would never again ejaculate into my wife.

He came over the next weekend. Honestly I couldn't bear to see him, so I left before he arrived, intending to see a movie or something.

But I couldn't stay away. Even though it felt like watching a train wreck happening, I was aroused beyond belief, and a part of me rejoiced at what was happening.

I heard their moans as soon as I walked in the door. I didn't need to see to know Ricky was giving my wife everything I couldn't. I could tell just by her moans. I'd never made her moan that way, not once in all the years we'd been together. I knew if I walked into the bedroom I'd see the same thing I was hearing. My wife in pure sexual bliss, getting kissed and fondled and fucked better than Ricky than anything she'd ever gotten from me.

I walked into the bedroom. Jen was under Ricky, and he was fucking her long and slow, rotating his hips, hitting her clit and g-spot, and she was moaning and writhing under him, her arms around his neck pulling him down to her in a long passionate kiss.

She was completely nude, nothing on. That was another rule I had. I forbid her from wearing lingerie with him, and certainly no hose, and no heels. She would not dress up for him, she'd wear only a robe. Maybe it was petty, but I wasn't going to give him that. Of course, Jen by herself was any man's wet dream, and short of putting a bag over her pretty face I couldn't do anything to hide her incredible natural sexiness. But it seemed both me and Ricky had a leg fetish, and by god Jen was going to wear stockings and high heels only for me.

Ricky gave Jen an incredible toe curling orgasm, and then he came too. They held each other after cumming and then he began to kiss her lips and cheek and whisper in her ear. "Okay, that's enough," I said immediately.

Reluctantly, Ricky pulled out (I was pleased to see he wore a condom -- the sack was full of his cum), and then he got dressed and left. I didn't let him even give Jen a goodbye kiss on the cheek.

As we'd already agreed, Jen took a shower while I changed the sheets. I didn't want any evidence of Ricky having been there. We held each other in bed and talked. She said the sex was really good, but not as good as before. The rules made the sex kind of artificial, although she was quick to say she agreed with the rules.

I knew what she meant. I don't think girls can separate sex from feelings. The sex is better if the girl has some feelings for the guy. My rules had taken all the feelings out of it. Honestly, it wasn't as exciting for me either. I realized the gut wrenching and jealousy I always felt fueled my fantasies, made them more intense and exciting. The rules took all that away, it was like Jen was using a dildo, and how exciting was that?

But what else could I do? I couldn't let it get out of control like last time.

Jen and I made slow love after talking, and she fell asleep with me spooning her.

We did this same thing the next 3 weekends. Sex might not have been as good, but it was good enough that Jen still wanted Ricky, and clearly he wanted any contact with her he could get. For my part, I was looking forward to the day Ricky got deployed, I was sure Jen would get over him then.

Melody threw a remembrance party for Paul. It was a time for his friends to get together and laugh and joke and celebrate his life. Jen told me Melody was having a hard time getting over his death, and her therapist suggested she throw this party to help her healing process.

Jen went to the party, but she went by herself, not with Ricky. As far as his friends knew, they were still broken up.

She came home late that night crying, falling into my arms. I knew it before she said it. I knew by how she looked, how she smelt. She'd let Ricky fuck her.

"What happened?" I asked, surprising myself with my calmness. She told me everything, in a sobbing rush. Ricky asked to speak to her alone, just for a minute. She agreed because there were so many others around; she felt safe in the crowd. They stepped into the den. They were alone, but the rest of the party was just on the other side of the door, she could hear their voices.

They sat down and Ricky took her hands. He said he loved her, he was broken up inside, he couldn't live without her. He was practically begging, and she felt terrible for him. She hugged him to console him, and before she knew it they were kissing. Then his hands were inside her dress, and then she was on her back with him inside her.

She admitted she wanted him as much as he wanted her. She returned his kisses, she tugged at his pants and stroked his cock, she opened her legs, she guided his cock into her pussy.

When it was over, she hurriedly dressed feeling guilty and ashamed. When they opened the door the rest of the party clapped. The guys slapped Ricky on the back and Melody kissed Jen and said "I'm so happy you're back together again, you two were meant for each other." Jen had been set up. It had been a celebration for Paul, but also Ricky's friends had wanted them to get back together. That's why no one had bothered them in the den, everyone had been in on the plan (with Ricky being the ring leader of course).

I looked down at Jen's legs. Her stockings were laddered. So much for my stupid rule about not wearing stockings for him.

"Did you let him cum inside you?" I asked.

She looked down shamefaced. "Yes," she admitted.

"So, did it work? Are you his girlfriend again?"

She began to protest. "Mike, baby, I ..." But then she realized they'd been no bitterness in my voice. No anger on my face. Instead, she saw ... excitement. "His friends think we're back together again."

"Are you?"

She paused, then hesitantly asked, "Do you want us to be?"

I looked down at her thigh again. I traced the run in her stockings. "I guess Ricky liked seeing you in these." She didn't say anything.

I traced up her leg, pushing her skirt up. Her lacy stocking top came into view, and pushed her skirt higher until I saw her bare skin above. Then I saw her stocking was attached to a garter strap. She'd worn a garter belt to the remembrance. She hardly ever wore garter belts. Only when she wanted to be extra sexy. Had she expected -- hoped -- things to turn out as they did?

"I think you want to date Ricky again," I said looking into her eyes. "You want the romance as much as the sex."

"Baby ..."

"Please don't call me that," I said practically winching at the name. "Until you're over with him, you can't call me that."

I saw hurt in her face. Good! This had to hurt her some too.

She rubbed my arm. "Mike ... where does that leave us?"

"I don't know," I said honestly. "I guess, go out with him if you want, be his girlfriend."

She rubbed my arm more, and looked into my face, looking concerned. Then she straddled my legs and took my face in her hands. "Is that what you want?" she asked softly.

She felt my erection. I was so hard it hurt. She reached down and pulled me out, and then guided me into her. She felt loose and wet. She slowly rode me up and down. In moments I lurched and came inside her. It was the best orgasm I'd had in months.

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

By unspoken agreement, she didn't tell when she was going out with Ricky. She would just ask "Are we doing anything tonight?" or "Do we have plans Saturday?" or "I'm staying over with a friend, okay?"

I always watched as she dressed for her dates with him. But we didn't talk about him or even speak his name. I always got hard watching her dress. Sometimes she'd open a package and pull out a new dress or new lingerie, and I'd know she'd bought that special to wear for him.

I saw changes in the way she dressed. She usually wore her hair down, which is how I liked it. But on her dates with him she almost always wore her hair up. There were other things. Her skirts got a little shorter and her heels a little higher. She wore more off-the-shoulder tops. Sometimes she went braless. She wore pantyhose under jeans. She bought cowboy boots! She looked sexy as hell in those boots with jeans and short skirts, but she'd never owned any before.

One good thing, Jen definitely had the extra bounce in her step again. Sometimes I'd see her smiling and humming to herself. It hurt since I knew it was because of Ricky and not me. But I benefited from it too. She became her bubbly flirty self again, and flirted more than ever with other guys. I think she flirted with other guys for my benefit as kind of a payback. It worked too, it never failed to turn me on.

When they first started dating again, when she got home from a date she'd shower, brush her teeth, and put her rings back on before coming over to me. One time though, I couldn't stand it, not with her looking so freshly fucked (and she always came home from their dates looking that way). I grabbed her and pushed her onto the bed and fucked her, smelling his cologne in her hair and neck, tasting his cum in her mouth, feeling her loose pussy, feeling his ring pressing against my chest as we kissed. After that, she stopped taking showers after her dates with him, waiting instead until the next morning after I'd used her freshly fucked body as much as I wanted.

They went out more often than just Saturday night, sometimes going out Fridays and Wednesdays, sometimes going out more. It seemed the more Jen saw him, the more she wanted to see him. They couldn't get enough of each other. I hurt when she was gone, and the fact she spent so much time with him hurt me more. She sensed that, so when she was home she always paid extra attention to me, holding my hand, giving me hugs from behind, kissing me, falling asleep in my arms. Pretty much, when she was home she was always in contact with me, even if we were just hanging out watching TV or reading the paper and it was our hands or hips touching.

Sometimes my hurt got the better of me. It usually happened when she went out with him two or even three nights in a row, or when she spent the night with him. My hurt and depression built up the longer she was away. It wasn't just the sex. I mean, by that time it was clear he was the better lover, I couldn't satisfy her sexually as good as him.

It was the emotions that really hurt. She fell more in love with him each time she saw him. At least that's what it looked to me. Sometimes I'd catch her looking off into the distance, a smile on her face, and I'd know she was thinking about him. When he called or texted her, her face always lit up. If they had a date planned, then she'd wake up that morning all excited, and stay that way all day long. If she wasn't seeing him that day, she didn't seem as happy.

Sometimes I thought about divorcing Jen. That's how much it hurt, how bad it got. But then I'd realize the hurt wouldn't go away if we divorced. It would make it worst, unbearable, because then I wouldn't have her at all.

I guess people might think her relationship with Ricky would make me love her less. But it did the opposite. I realized even more how much I loved her and needed her. Life without her was unimaginable.

Despite all my hurt, their dating and fucking kept me aroused constantly. People not into hot wife and cuckold fantasies won't understand this, but that's how it was. After their dates, we'd fuck and I'd always asked her the same questions, "Did Ricky fuck you good?"

"Does he fuck you better than me?"

"How many times did he make you cum?"

"Does he make you cum better than me?"

I always asked the same questions. Jen always answered like it was the first time, instead of getting annoyed or acting bored by the same questions. I guess since I gave her freedom to do what she wanted with Ricky, she paid me back by playing along.

But those were the easy questions, the ones during sex. The questions after sex were harder. In bed lying on our sides, looking into her eyes, I'd asked, "Last night, did you sleep in his arms?"

"Yeah. You know me honey I like that."

"Yeah," I said knowing she liked to be spooned when she slept. We never called each other baby anymore. Sometimes she called me honey. I didn't stop her; it was something.

"Does he still say he loves you?"

"Yes."

"Do you tell him you love him?"

"Mike ..."

"I want to know."

"Sometimes," she hesitantly admitted, but then quickly added "but I told you, I don't love him like you."

"Not like me," I repeated. Then I added bitterly, "Maybe you love him better than me, the same way he fucks you better than me."

"Mike, no," she soothed, rubbing my chest.

"Do you tell him you love him before you go to sleep?" I snapped. "And when you wake up?"

"Mike ..."

"Tell me, I need to know!"

"Yes."

"Which one!"

"Well ... I mean ... both."

I usually don't go down this road. It hurts too much. Sometimes I get taken over by the dark side of the force, I guess. Usually, she's able to soothe me with her words and caresses, and she ends up on top of me slowly fucking me, caressing my face, assuring me she still loves me.

You might think I hate her, but I don't. I understand her intense attraction and addiction to Ricky. I'm addicted to my own fantasies. The problem is, I know -- I KNOW -- she's going to leave me to be with him. I know it in my heart. That's the day I'll die, the day she leaves me. I won't kill myself, I'm not like that. But I'll die inside.