Heather and Ed

Ed, the husband, watched Ed, the lover, put his cock into Ed's wife. It was awkward--the two of them having the same name. But then again Sheila, Ed's wife, had joked that when she and her paramour were fucking she could yell out things like "Oh, Ed, give it to me!" and she wouldn't feel so guilty.

Ed the husband was standing about six feet from the foot of the bed. A fair, safe distance. Because Sheila's legs were already in the air he could watch Ed slide it into her, just beyond his clumped-up big balls. Ed, wearing nothing but microfiber panties, pulled the vee-front down and began stroking himself. He moaned, breaking his vow of silence, but no one seemed to hear, or care. The two in bed were moaning now themselves.

This was a dream come true for Ed. A fantasy realized; consummated. And soon enough, it was hoped, the other Ed would be bringing Sheila to a blissful, screaming climax. Or two. At least that's how Ed advertised himself.

"What about this guy?" Sheila had asked, less than a week ago.

Ed didn't mind looking at a guy's junk, but he had no feel for how good-looking, or not, a guy was.

"No dick pic," Sheila added.

"No?"

"I'm gonna email him back," said Sheila, shifting forward on her chair a bit. "See what else he's got to say."

Ed had a hard-on in his PJ's. He was breathing hard. "Tell him to send a dick pic."

"I will. Don't worry."

Now the cock was real and it was sliding in and out of Sheila, much to her rhythmic delight. Who would have ever thought that their only child Heather, off at college now...that her once-dreaded absence would be so...so liberating! It had opened up doors that had been closed for...years!

"Maybe we could do that thing you've been talking about."

"What thing?" Ed had asked.

"With me and other men."

That had stopped Ed in his proverbial tracks. He swallowed. His cock was getting hard. "You...?"

Sheila shrugged. "Why not? Give it a whirl."

"You're...serious?"

Sheila had looked over her left shoulder at him. "Deadly." Then: "Why don't you get on your little internet horse and find some men? Men looking to fuck a married woman. Use some of those boudoir shots you took of me last year, for my birthday. You still got 'em, right?"

All Ed could do at that moment was nod.

"Find me a man with an average brain and a big cock. Nobody crazy though."

"Well...," Ed started to protest.

"Well what?"

"Nothing. But...I have to know about this. You're, like, serious? You really want me to do this?"

"So now you're getting, what, cold feet?"

"Not at all. I just..." Ed looked at his wife. "It's a big deal."

Sheila shrugged. "Not really. It's just a fuck. Once or twice a week." Adding, "You can watch."

"I...?" Ed was cumming in his pants. He wondered if his wife could tell.

"Get on it," Sheila advised, while leaving the scene. "Keep me posted." She turned back, index finger raised. "No dick pics. Not in the first reply. Make sure you tell 'em that."

"I...will," her husband said, sounding utterly deflated.

Ed and his libido waited until the next night to begin composing the ad. For the past twelve hours it had been virtually all he'd thought about. Now he previewed it to his wife, who, standing over him arms folded, gave a few instructions, made a few revisions. "And you didn't say no dick pics," she reminded him.

"Oh, right. I'll add that now. Then post it?"

Sheila screwed up her still semi-pretty face. "No! It's Monday night. Wait until Friday. No, Thursday. Post it Thursday night. Right? Isn't that when we're gonna get...?"

"I guess," Ed the husband replied, sounding like he'd never read, let alone posted, an ad on the sex personals before. "I'll post it Thursday."

"Let me take one last look at it before you do. I'm not sure about one of the photos..."

"I can cover up your face," Ed offered.

"No. Who cares? We don't have any friends. Who's gonna recognize me, my mother?"

And with that Sheila headed off to bed. "See you in the morning," she said.

Come Saturday evening they'd received 46 replies. Four were multiples. Fully twenty of the guys had included dick pics. OUT! Twelve were one word, or two or three, replies. Out with them, too! That left about ten to consider.

Four never replied back. Two provided what looked like Photoshopped cocks. And Sheila, taking control at the helm, whittled it down to a decisive two. One plus an alternate. To the latter she wrote:

"Really appreciate[d] your response. I've decided to go in a different direction for now however. But please please stick around! If the other guy doesn't work out your [sic] up next for sure!"

Sheila signed it Heather. A name she'd always fancied. Hell, it was the name she--they'd--given their daughter.

Ed the lover arrived nearly on time the following Saturday. He drove a white pick up truck. He was thirty-something, medium-tall, stocky build--like a linebacker. His hands were rough--calloused. He worked construction. Worked outdoors. Had a deep tan.

"I'm Ed," Ed said to Ed the lover. "Heather's upstairs getting, um, ready for you."

Ed the lover entered warily. He was glancing around. What kind of scam IS THIS?

"Can I get you a drink? A...a beer, something?" Ed so nervous his voice was still shaking.

"It's, like, your wife?"

Ed nodded. Hurriedly.

"And she looks just like her pictures?"

"Even...better!" Ed the husband heard himself laugh.

"How much longer?"

"For...?"

Ed the lover waited. He'd slid his hands halfway down the crescent pockets of his jeans.

"Just a minute. Down in a minute," Ed the husband once again hurriedly answered.

"I'll take a beer then," Ed said, sliding to his right onto the nearest bar stool. A little of the tightness seeming to have left his linebacker's body.

"Oh, baby, you look great!" Ed said moments later, swiveling toward his date who'd just descended the stairs. "HOT!"

Ed the husband, meanwhile, while the other two cuddled, removed his shirt and then his pants. His feet were already bare. He had an erection in his bikini panties.

Sheila--Heather--interrupted the lovey-dovey stuff long enough to say, looking over Ed the lover's left shoulder at Ed her husband. "He's gonna watch."

"I don't give a shit," said Ed, between smooches. "Long as he keeps his mouth shut..."

It HAD been a cuckold ad, after all.

"He will."

"Better."

"If he doesn't...," said the temporary Heather, "we'll kick him out."

"Out of where?"

"The bedroom."

"Let's go."

"Follow me. Hon," she added.

About ten minutes in Ed the husband's phone rang. It was downstairs. It was their daughter calling. HER ringtone. The one she'd insisted on installing, along with a smiling pic, on her dad's phone. Heather was a daddy's girl.

Ed ignored it--as did, most emphatically, the two in bed. But then it rang again, a minute later, and Ed was forced to pull up the vee-front of his panties and--quietly--leave the master bedroom and the mayhem on the bed and rush downstairs. Nearing 50, he was out of breath when he picked up his cell and said:

"Darling! Yes?"

Ed the father could see the frown on Heather's face as she said, "What's, like, going on down there?"

"Nothing. What do you...mean?"

"A friend of mine...remember Anthony? He stayed with us, like, a few weeks ago? Tony was, like, poking around on the internet and he, like, saw mom's pics. Online."

Ed the father swallowed. Anthony.

"Anyway she showed 'em to me and...it's mom!"

"Heather, I..."

"What's going on down there?"

"It wasn't your mom. I'm sure of--"

"It was mom! Those, like, stupid boudoir shots you took of her for her, like, 50th birthday or something."

"It wasn't--"

"It's some kind of cuckold site! Is that what you are, dad? A cuck?"

"Heather, please. I--"

"Is there, like, a man in bed with her right now?"

"Don't be, like, ridiculous, Heather. You're--"

"With you watching the whole thing? GROSS!"

"Heather, I'm down in the kitchen right now."

"So, like, ergo...mom's upstairs with some guy?"

"No! NO! Your mom's...at the mall. She--"

"Who is that!"

Heather...the fake Heather that is, had just descended the stairs, all the while cinching a kimono around her shapely bulk.

Ed, looking deathly pale, endeavored to cover the mouthpiece of his phone while whispering, loudly, looking past his wife at the other Ed, the lover, his cock limp, drooping, but still oh-so long, and thick. "It's...Heather!"

Sheila's brow knitted. "What's she want? Let me speak to her."

"No!" swiping the phone away in an upward arc.

"Mom?" a detached voice cried.

"Who's Heather?" asked the fake Ed.

"Our daughter," Sheila drily replied.

"You're both, like, named Heather?"

"Heather?" said her mom, having grappled away the phone from her pantied husband. "What's the problem, honey?"

"I thought you were at the mall."

Heather, Sheila that is, glared at her husband before saying, "I just walked in the door."

"They're both named Heather?"

"Who's that in the background? That MAN."

"That's your dad."

"No it's not! Don't try to bullshit me, mom! I saw the ad!"

"You're imagining things, Heather."

"Her name is Heather, too?"

"Look," Heather's mom declared, in her official voice, "you're hysterical now. Why don't you take a chill pill and...," a glance over her shoulder at the other Ed, "...call me back in, like, an hour. Two hours," she hastily corrected.

"Oh, is that how long it takes him to--"

"Gotta go now, honey. Bye!"

Sheila slammed the phone down. Sighed. "Can't I have one good...?"

"Heather," said Ed the lover, approaching her false self from behind, "let's go back upstairs and do the deal."

"I'm dying for it," the fake Heather practically cried. Then, to her silly husband in his--her--panties: "Turn it off, will you? Your phone? For the next couple hours...?"

"But..."

"Turn it off or you can't watch..."

The fake Heather was being pulled away. Ed the father's phone was already ringing again.

He turned it off and trailed the pair of manly buttocks, and balls, up the stairs. Ed was getting hard again.