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While Marie went out to the car Doug held me back. "I'm keeping these as a trophy," he smirked, fishing a pair of Marie's knickers from his pocket.
"I've fucked your wife twenty seven times in eleven days," he went on, seemingly boasting of his prowess. "While you haven't had it at all."
Doug's laughter followed me out to the car.
We were both very quiet during the journey home, Marie I suspect already beginning to regret her fling with Doug.
SATURDAY, AUGUST 9, 2003.
Marie has been subdued all week, no doubt suffering remorse of conscience over her indiscretion with Doug.
SUNDAY, AUGUST 10, 2003.
I wanted sex this morning and Marie, though obviously reluctant, obliged. It was a disaster. Within seconds of entering her I came, depressingly unable to keep the image of Doug's backside pumping away between my wife's thighs out of my mind. A waste of a condom really as it had taken me longer to put it on than fill it! Obviously it did nothing for Marie but I think she was happy it was over so quickly, not being at all in the mood.
(Further extracts to follow.)
