Inferidelity Ch. 03 - Sleaze

This is the first of three endings to the Inferidelity series.

As a preview, the other two endings are titled "Burn" and "Family."

I may also write a prologue to this chapter about Patel, from Nicole's perspective, titled "The Six"...but my ambitions are loftier than my available free time. Just ask "Fit Mom" and "Bets" fans :(

I look forward to your feedback, and seeing as this is the Loving Wives category, I'll enjoy your comments that utterly degrade me as a human being :)

Thank you for your patience, and I hope you enjoy this installment! More will be on the way.

--

It had been five days since I had last seen my wife.

One Saturday afternoon, weeks after she'd received the huge bank deposits, she turned to me while she wiped down the kitchen counter.

"I have to go work for Patel tomorrow."

I slowed a bit as I put away the dishes. I resumed my normal disposition and acted disinterested in what she said, in keeping with our little game.

"I'll be gone for a bit."

I closed the cabinet and walked to the other side of the kitchen and said: "Ok."

Continuing to be the "strong silent type" was getting more and more difficult. I still couldn't imagine what he wanted from her in exchange for such large sums of money. The rest of the day she seemed deeply relaxed and content, like she was at peace. Her face was at ease and her eyes were droopy, almost sleepy, with a small smile across her face. I remembered her wearing a blue camisole with jean shorts as he walked out the door. Days later, it pained me to know I didn't say a word to her as she left. I wasn't sure if she was going to run errands, walk to get the mail, or any of a number of things. I naively thought I would be invited along for whatever Patel had in store for her.

After the first few days, I panicked and checked the location of her phone through an app. The battery had died a day beforehand at an address inside an extremely wealthy gated community. I frantically dropped our daughter off at my mother's and drove to the location.

I was parked across the street beneath a glowing street light, peering into the windows of a massive mansion through a pair of binoculars I had fortunately kept in my trunk for watching baseball games from the cheap seats. The house was alight with activity and full of people, apparently having some kind of epic party. Young men and women, many in incredible shape and wearing expensive clothes, enjoyed drinks and conversation. Booming music came from a pool area where dozens of people danced and talked. I searched the windows until I was shocked to see my wife's face fall into view. If my description of events after this sounds bizarre or far-fetched, believe me, for my wife, or at least who she used to be, it was completely out of character. Nevertheless, I was punched in the gut with a new reality when I focused the lenses and watched her operate.

Except her panties, she was nude, and a hand of a man I couldn't see was fingering her under her panties as they spoke to one another. It was so shameless the way she stood brazenly in front of the huge window that aligned the top of the house, her full body on display to anyone on the street as she shared her thinly veiled pussy with a stranger. Their conversation was lively, and as I tried to steady the binoculars so I could get a better view, she threw her head back and laughed deeply. When she brought her head down, I could see her eyes droop and her mouth fall agape as he stimulated her towards an orgasm. It was apparent she was melting from his touch. Then, another man walked up, tall and muscular with a big smile, nude with a half erect and sizable cock. He grabbed both of her incredible breasts, squeezed hard, and pulled them tight away from her chest, causing her to wince. The man who was fingering her withdrew his hand and walked away, acquiescing to her new friend. She turned and, with a big smile, hugged him. They started to kiss each other with intent in long, passionate movements. Her hand found its way behind his head and she stroked his neck with affection.

I put the binoculars down and began to walk down the long boulevard. I had seen enough.

--

My adrenaline had left me in a daze. When I regained some composure, I was walking down my third or fourth hallway, surrounded by people I could only describe as "alternative." Garish tattoos, open nudity, pills taken in plain view, traces of cocaine on tables in open areas. At least three of the bedrooms I had walked past contained people, sometimes multiple people, engaging in sex acts. Loud, booming music was ambivalent. On the occasion one of the nihilists looked my way, they seemed bewildered that a suburban-looking dad like myself was in their midst.

I finally came to the area of the massive home where I believed my wife could be. It was a master bedroom, or one of the master bedrooms, with vaulted ceilings and ornate crown molding. There must have been two dozen people inside it, coalescing and talking over drinks and drugs. I pushed my way in and peered inside to see my wife beneath a hulking, heavy-set white man with a gold chain around his neck. He was pounding into her relentlessly as she wrapped his legs around him and dug her head into his shoulder. With people walking in front of my point of view, I struggled to see if he was wearing a condom. Inside of an hour, I had seen three men have intimate sexual contact with my wife. I was about to meet a fourth.

"Sup bro," asked a muscular hulking beast of a man standing before me. He was nude, covered in tattoos, and sported an unkept beard and a manbun. His eyes looked like faded glass and he held a small handheld bong of some kind. It didn't smell like the weed I remembered from college, but rather....burnt paper mixed with bleach. Something inside it was...illicit, to say the least.

"Hey," I said, trying to see my wife through the fray.

"Who you here with?" he asked. I shot him a confused look. "Everybody here is in the industry yo, invite only. Who do you know?"

When he mentioned the "industry", I looked to see two men in the corner with expensive looking cameras, filming not only my wife but the rest of the room.

"Uh, I'm with Patel," I said, saying the only name I knew that might past muster.

"Oh, sweet," he said, "He hangs out at Dugan's clubs a lot, funds a lot of tapes and scenes. Good dude. Looks like Dugan is having a good time," he said, motioning with his head towards my wife and her lover. Apparently Dugan was the owner of Patel's favorite strip clubs. A heavyset, balding strip club manager was chemically bonding with my wife.

"I actually just got done giving her a ride myself," he said, his glassy eyes indicating he was as high as a kite, "She takes it raw, and gets into it, like...genuine-style and shit. She must be new."

When I looked down, it was like my brain started to cry. His slowly shrinking cock was slicked and had this tiny, white bead of cum on the end of it. There was something disturbing on a deep level knowing the almost quaint bead of cum resting on the end of this clearly troubled man had been connected to a gob he deposited inside of Nicole. His hands, his drugged-out, hairy face, hovering over her...working into her. I felt myself getting feverish, almost panicked.

He walked away from me and I peered to see where he was heading. In the corner, Patel was clothed but jerking his erect cock through an opening in his fly as he watched Nicole pant like a dog in tune with an invading cock. I looked back as my wife started to wirth in an orgasm, succumbing totally to this greasy, awful "Dugan" who was pistoning in and out of her. When I looked back, Patel was looking straight at me with a blanked, angry expression. The man I had spoken to looked more than a little peeved that I had lied to him about being invited by Patel. Before I could be "bounced," I hurriedly left the room and made my way out of the house. It must have taken me at least twenty minutes to escape from its twisting hallways.

When I got back to my car, I peered at the same window I initially peered into when I arrived. I didn't see anything of interest. I drove home in a state of despondence and a quiet, private terror.

--

The entire next day was a daze. I had confirmed my wife was, in a sense, "safe," but I didn't feel she was my wife anymore. Hours upon hours, for days, all of those men...who was she? What had she become? How could she have ever agreed to this? Whatever our fantasy, swinger play, hotwifing...whatever we had done before...this was something else. This was just blatant cheating, and on a grandiose level. And did she expect me to just not react? To play this cool, to keep that fantasy going? Was she insane? We were so far past that madness...

Around five o'clock. I got an email from an anonymous sender with a video file attached to it. The subject was blank, the message read:

"first edit, some behind the scenes! u think you better than 'bad' men don't u, stupid pervert. u use me, i use u."

I could glean that this was clearly from Patel. Inferring that my wife, at some point, had informed him of why she was allowed to have her liaison, was a given. Patel was fucking pissed that we found him "inferior" and, man oh man, had he found a way to tear me down. Like a schmuck, I opened the file.

It began with a gorgeous, bright, well-shot 4k scene of a nice driveway. A car pulled up from a distance, and it took me a moment to recognize it as my wife's SUV. It was surreal to see her exit, wearing the same blue camisole and jean shorts she had worn the day she left our home. With a bright smile on her face, she walked up to Patel, who waited at the door for her, and they embraced in a hug. The cameraman followed them inside.

There was some "hey baby, how you been" talk and some light petting and longing looks between Nicole and Patel. As they talked and looked into each other eyes, I had a sneaking suspicion they shared something with gravitas beyond what I had seen the night of the swim party. I surmised it was the look a woman gives a man willing to give her a fortune for something sexual. The "Dugan" character walked up with two women and a man by his side, and had a hearty hug as well. He openly ogled my wife's breasts and made some lewd comment, to which my wife and the others in the room laughed. Everybody was just so...friendly.

"Listen, Nicole, so happy to have you here," Dugan said. He voice was hoarse like a chain smokers and his skin was blotchy and red, "Just so you get what we're trying to do, it's the whole 'origination' thing we talked about over the phone."

My wife nodded in agreement, "Uh huh,"

"Basically, here you are....fresh. Just fresh as a daisy," he said, smiling. Everyone laughed. "And we've been trying for a long time to, you know, get someone from a stable, good Christian background, someone who's been totally monogamous, Suzy Homemaker, all that bullshit...get her in the door and track her, six scenes a day for a week, so her fans can watch her become a superstar. Two releases a month that's...two or three years of storylines plus bonus footage, lots of hot sex for our fans, you know? So this is such a cool opportunity for you, for us, we're so excited that you're here."

She nodded, "I'm happy to be here."

"Cool," Duggan govelled, "You nervous? Our fans are gonna love that body."

She flashed a huge, white smile, "Yes, very," she said. Everybody laughed.

"Hey, listen," Dugan said, stepping forward. With zero warning, he reached out and lightly teased her nipple through her top, "Let's get close, it'll make you less nervous..."

When she didn't relent, he reached in from the side and took her tit in his hand and started teasing her nipple. In typical Nicole fashion, her eyes dropped and she started breathing with intent. The ultra high quality of the video was surreal...it was a woman I'd lived with and loved for so long, but she seemed realer than real. I felt myself getting aroused watching her allow herself be mauled by this low-life.

Duggan lauged.

"Yea, baby, you get tuned up real easy," he said, "Come here,"

He leaned in and gave her a hard, aggressive kiss. It felt so sleazy that he had seen her ogling Patel only moments earlier, and here he was sharing the same woman....my wife.

"Fucking nympho, for sure, Patel was right," he muttered. He kissed her again as he palmed her other breast through the light material of the camisole. The girls in the room ooed and awed at them as they went at it. Duggan pulled away and adjusted her shirt. "I've met superstars like you before. Ten seconds and you're already in love. Look at that babyface....mmmph"

The camera captured my wife's lustful, devoted gaze perfectly. It made me sick that my wife's secret was out. After a simple kiss in the store during the second liaison she had with another man, she was practically ready to leave me for him. Obviously her affections for Patel were still alive and well. And now, a human rodent like Duggan knew she could be touched by any man and bow completely to his will. I just knew he was bearing his claws and was digging in. Knowing they had made love in that crowded room that night at the house made the prelude all the more dreadful.

Dugan beckoned for them to start the shoot and the group left the foyer of the mansion. The scene faded out.

--

When it faded in, it was a scene that I'm ashamed to admit I've seen before. Some porns start with a "casting couch" interview. The star sits and talks about their lives and their sexual preferences, fully clothed, before the action starts. Since this was a rough cut, it began with Nicole sitting silently as various crew members prepared everything.

Once again, the sheer detail of the 4k footage made my wife's face come alive. I could see every freckle and blemish on her cheeks, the type of rogue she'd put on her lips, but most importantly I could see the faraway look in her saucer-sized eyes. She was still put together, innocent, and cognizant of her surroundings.

The backdrop was a massive, sunny half-moon window with lush greenery peering in from the outside of the estate. She sat on a beautiful sofa that had to cost at least ten thousand dollars. When the camera panned out to focus, a bed and sound recording equipment were laid out a few steps away from her position. As she had a moment to mentally prepare herself, I could tell she was questioning if she was making the right decision. Dugan started off the interview, breaking her from her contemplative daze.

He started off asking her about her name, where she was from, if her hair was its natural color, if she had ever done a "scene" before. When he asked if she was married, and if she had a child, I was beyond appalled when she gave our real first names and went into detail about how we had met, how our love life had been, and the quality of our relationship.

"Do you love your husband?" Duggan asked.

With enthusiasm, she nodded. "Yes, very much."

"Christian?"

She nodded, reaching into her camisole to reveal a crucifix necklace her grandmother had given her when she graduated high school. Sunlight flared off her wedding ring as she held the cross towards the camera.

"Yup, we go to service, twice a month."

"What's family life like? Getting a little bored with the same ol' same ol'?"

I was simply disgusted when she talked about what it was like to raise our daughter, the chores she had to do, and what it was like to be a parent. Anyone who saw this from our everyday life would be terrified of the details she was giving about her grade school teacher, our neighborhood, her grocery store. It was so bizzare to watch and contemplate. She ended the naive diatribe with something I still find off putting.

"My daughter is the number one thing in my life," she said with a big smile, "She's my world."

"Do you think you daughter could grow up to be a superstar like you?" Dugan said, followed by a chortled, deep laugh. The whole room laughed at his disgusting joke, as did my wife. I replayed her reaction two times more, and she seemed to genuinely laugh at his insinuation. What the fuck was wrong with her?

The next barrage of questions was typical for a casting couch porno. I'm a bit ashamed to admit...I'd watched more than a few.

"Ever done anal?"

Smiling, she replied: "No."

"Wow! Ever blown a guy while fucking another guy?"

"No."

"Jeez, what about blowjobs? Ever give one or are a prude?"

She politely giggled, "I do give them, yes. Sometimes."

"Do you let guys eat you out?"

She shrugged, "I dunno, I guess. My husband and I aren't really into it."

"Toys? Whips? Chains?"

"Nothing like that, no."

"Never, ever done a porno before, right?"

Her long, flowing hair shook as she enthusiastically nodded, "That's right, never before."

"That's interesting. How many men have you been with?" was Dugan's next question.

"Four," my wife said.

"That's a really low number."

She shrugged, "It was two until a few months ago."

"Wow...so only two guys and you're not even twenty-seven..."

Nicole blushed a little, "Thirty. But thanks."

"You're gorgeous. You're so fuckin' gorgeous. Look at those big blue eyes. Go on, tell us about your first fuck."

She sighed, "Boyfriend in high school. The relationship lasted like...three months. It sucked."

Dugan laughed, "Not a Don Juan like you wanted?"

Nicole nodded, "Pretty bad."

"What an idiot. I'm gonna fuck you like he should have. Look at me. I'm gonna cum in your hot pussy, understand?"

My wife looked at him with pale blue eyes and nodded.

"So then....next was your husband?"

"Yup."

"How's he in bed?"

She shrugged and moved her eyes around, "He's good."

"Does he still take care of business?"

She bunched up, "Mmmhmmm, yea, for the most part."

Duggan's voice got ominous, "But does he ring your bell? Does he go super deep?"

You could see the blood rush into her head, "He's good."

Duggan let the moment sit.

"Who was next?"

Now she was visibly flushed.

"My husband's co-worker."

"Whoa! Behind his back..."

"Not necessarily..."

My wife recanted that we were at a party and "one thing lead to another" with my approval, saving Patel from being labelled as a mark for our inferiority fantasy.

"Ah, so you guys are just prudes on the surface, I see, I see."

More canned laughter from my wife and her newfound best friends.

"And the next guy, after the co-worker?"

"My husband knew about him too."

"Your husband was ok with you being with both these guys?"

She nodded a little reluctantly.

"Nice, nice. So four guys...how many did you let cum inside you?"

She blushed a little, "All of them."

Her eyes drifted towards where, I imagined, Patel was sitting in the room. This confirmed to me that, after I had left the room at the pool party, he had finished inside her. Or so I thought...

"Even when you were swinging with the co-worker?"

"Yes..."

"Did your husband know?"

She shook her head, "Not every time."

I felt my heart sink.

"How many times did the first guy, the co-worker, how many times did he cum inside you?"

There was a long hesitation. "Six," she almost whispered, her eyes on the floor.

Six?! The way she said it so quietly, and with shame, made me fearful. But my inner perversion sent the shock of the cheap thrill shooting through my spine. It reminded me of the way I'd felt when I used to steal cigarettes from the gas station when I was a teenager. She was such a liar...

"Wow, that's hot. Did your husband watch?"

She sighed, "He was there for the first time."

"Ooohh, he was understanding, and gave you a taste. And you couldn't stop yourself from taking more of that strange dick."