Journal Extracts Ch. 05

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 11, 2005.

I have chosen well. The picturesque, very old looking hotel is not far from the Royal Shakespeare Company's Theatre, where I have tickets for a play and a special backstage pass afterwards. We will be able to meet; and hopefully get the autograph of, one of Marie's favourite actors, something she doesn't as yet know about.

It's a surprise Anniversary present; married 10 years ago today. I planned the long weekend break in Stratford-upon-Avon carefully, choosing the plush five star hotel and booking a room with four poster bed. Oak beams and antique furnishings abound. Marie is smitten from the start, particularly with the four poster bed!

The manager was hovering about reception when we checked in and I didn't miss the way he ran his eyes over my wife's body. In the past it never used to bother me, guys eyeing up my wife, flattering in some respects, but she wasn't susceptible to their attentions then the way she is now; Marie often used to laugh about guys clumsy attempts to get her into bed. So when I noticed the manager fawning over her while I signed the register, alarm bells rang.

Leaving Marie to unpack I popped out to have a quick look at the theatre and on my return found the manager in our room. Here we go again, I thought to myself.

"Bob's just checking we have everything we need," Marie explained.

Bob already! A stocky guy in his early fifties, the manager soon left and I asked my wife if he'd tried anything on.

"Well he did pat my bottom," Marie laughed.

LATER.

Well the play was brilliant, we both enjoyed it and Marie was thrilled afterwards to be able to go backstage and meet the leading actor. Whisky in hand he greeted us wearing a dressing gown and having just removed the greasepaint still looking a little flushed. Marie was plainly overawed to meet this powerful and striking personality, now sixty, who has enjoyed a long and distinguished acting career in films and television besides the theatre. We probably didn't have long so I asked him if he'd sign our programme, Marie seeming almost rendered speechless by his presence.

"Of course," he replied, signing his name with a flourish, "Although I usually like to autograph a ladies anatomy."

"What about my tits, would you sign them?" Marie asked, suddenly coming to life.

"Of course, it would be a real pleasure," he smiled.

She quickly pulled the top off over her head and reached back for her bra clip.

"Allow me."

Standing up BC, I'll just stick to his initials, moved smoothly to my wife's rear and with an impressive dexterity unclipped and removed Marie's bra. I was aware of the guy's hands sliding across my wife's breasts, perhaps an accidental touch but more likely deliberate, as he removed it. Back in his chair facing her, the actor exclaimed, "What magnificent tits, just the size I like them! May I be permitted to kiss those exquisite nipples?"

His question was addressed to me but it was my wife who replied. "Yes of course, J*** doesn't mind, do you dear?"

"No I suppose it's OK," I told him.

Leaning forward the actor kissed each of Marie's nipples in turn, steadying himself with his hands on her thighs.

"I suppose you'd like the full backstage tour now," he said to me.

"Yes, that would be great. I've been looking forward to it."

"What about you?" he asked, patting my wife's knee.

"Yes, I suppose so," Marie replied, not sounding very enthusiastic.

"Maybe you'd rather stay here and listen to a few of my anecdotes while your husband does the tour?" he again patted her knee.

"Oh yes, that sounds much more interesting!" she exclaimed.

Going to the door he called to one of the junior players and asked if he'd mind showing me around.

"No problem."

"Don't be in any hurry, give J*** the full tour," BC told the guy with a wink.

Well, once upon a time I might have been naïve enough to think nothing of Marie staying behind. As it is I left the actors dressing room knowing full well my wife would have sex with him in my absence. In fact he was already untying his dressing gown cord as I closed the door.

Anyway I thoroughly enjoyed my tour of the theatre, seeing all the backstage areas and little known nooks and crannies, which according to my guide few people had ever set eyes on.

Back in the corridor outside the actor's dressing room my guide smiled and said, "Sounds as if I've brought you back a bit premature. Might be as well if you stay out her for the time being. See you."

I thanked the guy for a very informative tour, well aware of the 'oohs' and 'aahs' emanating from the actor's room. Nodding towards the door my guide said, "I wouldn't worry about what's going on in there. The bastards got something none of them can resist. He's fucked hundreds, probably thousands, of women so your wife is just another notch on his bedpost."

My guide departed and I remained in the corridor aware of the grins from passers by who seemed to know it was my wife we could hear being fucked in the actor's dressing room. Yet another humiliating experience for my records.

Not long after her cries died away the actor opened the door and ushered me inside. He had regained his dressing gown but Marie remained stark naked, looking flushed and very pleased with herself. Would my wife be as pleased with herself if she knew she was just the latest in a very long line of his conquests? I wondered.

"I had to give it to your wife doggie style, which did nothing for my knees," the actor told me, massaging them. "She didn't want to smudge the autograph."

"Let J*** massage them for you. He won't mind will you dear?"

I was annoyed by Marie's presumption and the position she was placing me in but just nodded my assent.

The actor looked surprised for a moment but then smiled and said, "Why not," untying and opened the dressing gown while stretching his legs out.

Kneeling, I began tentatively massaging the actor's knees while he relaxed in his chair, trying all the time to avoid the sight of the guy's penis and the knowledge that it had just been inside my wife. To top it off my guide chose that minute to enter the room and burst out laughing when he saw me in the ignominious position. Marie, who was still naked, made no attempt to cover herself up and the guy ran his eyes up and down her body while delivering a message to BC. She was completely brazen, even seeming to enjoy the affect her nudity was having on my guide. By the time he left, my wife had perched herself on the dressing table and sat there, legs apart, fully exposed to his gaze!

* * *

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 12, 2005.

Saw an unexpected and shocking side of my wife today.

After breakfast I went out to have a look at the town, never having been here before. Marie stayed at the hotel to shower; she'd slept late following her excitement with the actor last night.

Approaching our room on my return I met the manager walking along the corridor. Seeing me he smiled and said, "Don't be shocked she asked to be left the way you'll find her. Said you'd enjoy the view."

"Sorry?" I was puzzled by his cryptic remark.

"Your wife. She asked to be left tied down and helpless, with my spunk dribbling out of her gaping cunt. Just the way you'll find her. The bondage was my idea, leaving her to be found by you, hers," the manager told me before going on his way laughing uproariously.

Dashing to our room I was astonished and shocked by what I found. Marie was spread-eagled on the bed, wrists and ankles tied to the four posts, her body arched upwards by what seemed to be about three pillows beneath her bottom. She was fully exposed and helpless. My wife's gaping vagina was indeed covered in the manager's semen, a copious amount, just like he said. Stunned, I stood there staring between Marie's legs until she murmured, "Go on then, I know you want to."

Slipping my trousers and underpants off in double quick time, I knelt on the bed preparing to mount her.

"No not that. Play with yourself," she admonished.

"You're not in a position to refuse," I pointed out craftily, my penis almost touching my wife's vagina by this time, a vagina it hasn't penetrated for, well far too long.

"No but you're a wimp who daren't disobey," she snapped.

Marie seems to know me better than I know myself because I meekly backed off to masturbate. I did however remain kneeling on the bed and when I came my semen spurted down to join the managers coating her vagina.

"Get some wipes and clean your mess up," she snapped and I did so immediately.

It was perhaps unfortunate that the manager chose that moment to return.

"I thought I'd better check that you're OK Marie. I hope hubby's not giving you a hard time. Still it looks as if he knows his place," the grinning guy said, on seeing me cleaning my wife's vagina.

Marie joined in his laughter at my expense and asked him to untie her while I went to wash my hands. Returning from the en-suite I found them sitting on the edge of the bed, Marie massaging her wrists while his hand rested between her parted legs.

"I think I can say without fear of contradiction, that I gave your wife a bloody good shafting while you were out for a walk," he said.

"You did that," Marie smiled at him, "I hope you haven't forgotten what you promised for tomorrow."

"No chance of that. I'll see you at nine-thirty."

"What was all that about tomorrow?" I asked when he'd gone.

"You'll find out in the morning."

Noticing the dark smudges on Marie's breasts reminded me about the actor and I was shocked to realize it had only been twelve hours or so since she had intercourse with him.

"Once upon a time you'd have been scandalized by the very suggestion that you could commit adultery at all, let alone have sex with two different guys in twelve hours!" I exclaimed, remembering Marie's catholic upbringing and her rather shy demeanour when first we'd met.

"Yes and it would have been three if you'd had your way," she snapped.

"Are you even aware that you've now been unfaithful to me with no less than eight guys?"

That seemed to sober her up but she soon took the wind out of my sails by saying, "Yes, all better lovers than you and with much bigger cocks."

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 13, 2005.

It seems that Doug can be credited with arousing the sleeping giant that is my wife's sexuality. Marie seems insatiable nowadays as testified by her impatience for Bob's arrival this morning. There's little doubt in my mind that she will continue to take lovers and in all honesty I'm not to sure how I feel about that. It's impossible to deny to myself any longer that I get turned on by watching my wife having sex with some other guy, and perhaps discretion is the most important and worrying aspect. In some respects rather timid and conventional I certainly wouldn't want Marie's infidelity to become known back home!

When Bob arrived he kissed my wife, making sure I could see the familiar way he ran his hands over her bottom and breasts, before telling us to follow him. I sensed from her excitement that Marie knew where we were going but was surprised when Bob led us to a sort of fitness room right down in the basement. I hadn't been aware that the hotel had one, only interested in the theatre I suppose.

"This is it then," he indicated a pommel horse in the centre of the room.

"Great!" Marie exclaimed, "It looks ideal."

She began undressing while Bob adjusted the height of the pommel horse, lowering it to thereabouts the minimum setting. Naked but for stockings and suspenders, my wife then bent right over the saddle of the pommel horse, commenting that the height seemed perfect. I could only stand and watch in amazement while Bob tied her wrists to the two uprights, before doing likewise with her ankles. He then stepped back inviting me to admire his handiwork.

My wife was tied down over the pommel horse, rump high in the air, looking helpless and vulnerable but obviously very excited by her situation.

After undressing Bob spread Marie's buttocks saying, "There look at that, a choice of holes."

My wife squealed when he teased her anus with a finger tip, commenting, "I think I might use this one today. It looks very inviting."

"No," I sort of croaked.

"You don't get a say," he jeered, "I can use your wife any way I choose. That's the deal, right Marie?"

I think she answered in the affirmative; it wasn't easy to tell because he was fingering my wife's vagina with one hand, anus with the other, by this time and she groaned and moaned almost continuously.

"Why don't you want me to give it to your wife up the arse then?" he went on while I stared almost in disbelief at the three fingers now drilling in and out of her anus.

When I failed to reply he taunted, "Bet it's because you've never had it that way, right?"

"Yes," I murmured wistfully, affording him much merriment.

"What I ought to do know is make you put my cock in your wife's bum hole," Bob teased, "but you'll have to stand outside and make sure no one comes in to use the facilities. We don't want an audience."

I hesitated, watching Bob coating his erection in lubricant, torn between a desire to stay and watch but not wanting to put myself through the humiliation.

"Hold her cheeks apart then, before you go," Bob said.

Just the touch of my wife's bottom was enough to excite me but I groaned nonetheless when he began inserting his penis into her anus.

"You've done your bit; now go outside before anyone comes in. If any guys arrive before I've finished I might invite them to make use of your wife in the same way."

I don't know if Marie's loud cry was caused by Bob penis driving deep into her anus, or by his words, words which sent me scampering towards the door. Pausing in my passage through it I gasped to see Bob gripping the two handles of the pommel horse as he drove in and out of her viciously. My wife was yelling almost deliriously as the guy bum fucked her hard and fast but I knew in my heart she loved it. I stepped out into the passage, quickly pulling the door shut on the horrific sight. I couldn't close my ears though and Marie's wild yells and cries were ringing out and echoing along the corridor for upwards of fifteen minutes. Fortunately no one came to use the room.

When a very hot and sweaty looking Bob opened the door he ushered me inside with the words, "Come and see how I've opened up your wife's bum hole."

I gasped when I saw Marie's anus, gaping wide as he said, with Bob's semen coating it.

"I might have given her some rough treatment there but she loved every minute of it, didn't you Marie?"

"Oh god yes, it was fantastic!" my wife exclaimed, despite her bruised and weary looking body.

Bob, who was dressing rapidly, gave my wife's rump a mighty slap bringing forth an excited squeal, saying, "I'll leave you to untie her. Don't hang about though, because somebody's bound to be along soon."

With that he'd gone. I stood staring at my wife's bottom, automatically rubbing the front of my trousers.

"Don't even think about it," She said, waking me up.

At that I quickly untied her, fearful that someone would indeed come in.

Back in our room Marie went for a long soak in the bath while I masturbated with the image of her over the pommel horse fresh in my mind.

* * *

MONDAY, MARCH 6, 2006.

I'd been walking the dog for a little over an hour when it came on to rain. Another couple of turns around the block and I'd return to the house.

Cold, and becoming increasingly wet, I sheltered in the porch after ringing the door bell. When, after about ten minutes, Martin opened the door and saw the rain he told me to take the dog round to the back and he'd let me in the kitchen door, "I don't want you trailing water through the house."

At the kitchen door he was in no hurry to let me in and by the time it opened both the dog and I were even wetter. Handing me a towel Martin said, "Dry my dog first then use the towel on yourself, you're not worth soiling a second one on. When you've finished bring two coffees up to the bedroom."

With that he left the kitchen and I set to with the towel, rubbing Martin's dog down vigorously. I managed to keep one end of the towel dry to use on myself once I'd finished the dog. While the kettle boiled I undressed, mindful of Martin's rule about me not wearing any clothing beyond the foot of the stairs while in his house. The coffee made I carried the mugs upstairs on a tray which I set down briefly to knock on the bedroom door. Martin's voice bidding me enter, I did so.

"Your coffee Sir," I said, using the deferential mode of address he expects.

"Put the mugs in their usual place and then tidy the room," he ordered.

"Very good Sir."

First I deposited Martin's mug on his bedside cabinet before walking round the bed with the other, trying all the time to avert my eyes from their recumbent forms. However, it proved impossible not to see my naked wife lying blissfully beside her lover, one hand toying idly with his penis. As ever Marie was glowing following their lovemaking.

(While Martin had been fucking my wife I'd been in the humiliating position of exercising his dog, a regular proceeding since they became lovers in early December 2005.)

While they drank the coffee I tidied the room, collecting their hastily scattered clothing to fold neatly on a chair. Symbolically perhaps, my wife's knickers were partially concealed beneath Martin's underpants and picking them up I felt the stirring of an erection. Hoping Martin wouldn't notice I turned away, pretending to be busy, until it subsided.

"Will that be all Sir?" I asked, hoping to escape the room.

"Stand in the corner and wait for the mugs. They'll be quite a lot of washing-up for you to do then."

Indeed I'd already noted the quantity of washing-up awaiting my attention.

I stood in the corner dreading but perhaps also wanting, the torment which I expected to follow; it is after all a regular proceeding.

After about five minutes they seemed to have finished their coffee and Martin said, "Now come and stand at the foot of the bed."

When he slid a pillow beneath my wife's bottom, thus raising her lower parts, I knew the ritual was about to begin. This practice, first introduced by Doug but eagerly pursued by some of her subsequent lovers, is something Marie enjoys. It might be seeing the affect, the power, her nakedness has over me that she encourages her lovers to do it. Whatever the reason, it's a sad fact that my wife derives great pleasure in seeing my humiliation at her lovers hands.

"Spread your legs and show hubby what he's missing Marie," Martin said, grinning facetiously at me.

My wife, always happy, indeed eager to oblige, did so and I had no option but to stare between her thighs. I experienced a pang of jealousy to see traces of Martin's semen visible in my wife's pubic hair and vagina. It was of course inevitable that my erection would return.

"Go on then, relieve your frustration with a wank. We know it's what you want to do," he jeered.

Humiliatingly I had no choice, my enforced celibacy demanding some sort of relief. Staring between my wife's thighs I masturbated frantically, not knowing if and when the view might be denied me by Martin's hand clamped to her vagina. Mercifully he allowed me to finish, it didn't take long, and I came in my hand to the sound of Marie's laughter and Martin's jeers.

"I leave my cum inside your wife's cunt," he taunted. "Now bugger off and do the washing up."

Popping across the landing to wash my hands I then returned for their coffee mugs, again knocking the door and waiting for Martin's permission before entering. Trying to ignore the sight of my wife sucking his penis I collected the mugs and returned to the kitchen and the washing up.

I'd just about finished when Martin entered the kitchen to be greeted enthusiastically by his dog.