Mistakes

"Sit down, Gary," I said as we entered and he stood at the door of the living room, a sizeable tent in his trousers and an eager expression on his face. He looked puzzled, but went and sat down. Rachel sat next to him and took his hand.

"Gary you tricked me," I began, showing my annoyance. "You knew full well that I wanted to talk with you before making any moves with Rachel. It was stupid of you to send her out without warning."

"But-"

"Just listen Gary," said Rachel. "Rod and I have done nothing tonight. We went somewhere and had a talk - the talk you should have been having with Rod. We don't think you fully understand the risk you're taking here."

She looked at me. I continued.

"Once this starts it's out of your hands. So far you've organised Rachel and me, you've been in charge, but once you give the go ahead, you will be powerless."

"I know," he said, "that's part of the buzz."

"What Rod is saying," added Rachel, "is that when you've had your fun and want it to stop, I may not want to stop, and if that's the case, be sure of this Gary, I won't stop. You need to be very clear about that. Rod may give me an appetite for sampling a lot more men and if that's the case, I won't stop."

"You should also consider that your relationship with Rachel will never be the same after this," I put in. "It could damage it beyond repair. You are taking a big risk here, Gary. Personally I think you're making a huge mistake. We wanted you to understand that clearly. This could wreck your life together."

"That's a bit heavy, Rod," he said with a confident smile. He knew he was far better looking than me. "It's just a bit of fun between friends to enhance our love life. That's all it is. You get to have sex with a beautiful woman, I get to experience all the cuckold feelings, and Rachel gets sex from two men instead of one. Everyone wins; no one gets left out.

"I know that Rachel won't leave me, we have too deep a relationship for that to happen. It'll be ok! So don't worry you two, nothing bad will happen, believe me. I've read a lot about this, and it is exciting. Rachel will always come home to me and get some really hot loving after you've had her. Ok?"

"Ok," I said, "but don't say I didn't warn you."

With that I stood up. Rachel came to me and kissed me on the lips. I heard an 'Oh, yeah!' from Gary.

"Saturday evening?" I asked her. "Six thirty?"

She nodded and smiled.

"Great!" Gary commented.

We went to a Symphony Concert on the Saturday, her favourite composers as it turned out.

"You know he wanted to watch me getting ready for you?" she laughed. "Though you won't see them, I've got the sexiest bra and knickers on under here, and stockings! I never wear stockings. He had the biggest hard on and tried to take me, but I told him to lay off - this was for you first. He took it well. I told him not to play with himself while I was out." Another laugh.

"You're beginning to enjoy this!" I said with a grin. "Be careful. Keep to the plan."

We spent the interval plotting an account of what we'd done in bed that evening.

We had walked side by side to the concert hall, but on the way back to the car, she tucked her arm in mine. I looked at her and smiled, and she smiled back. No comment from either of us, but a tacit agreement that walking like that was allowed.

When I dropped her off, she kissed my cheek and said she'd had a wonderful time. I went home and took care of my erection.

On Monday morning she rang me at the office to tell me he'd been like a man possessed after she told him the story. He had been disappointed that 'I'd used a condom', but her efforts with her vulva had fooled him.

Two weeks later I got tickets for a play at the Exchange Theatre, and again Rachel was delighted. At the interval, I asked her if she wanted to talk about what we 'did' tonight, but she said she could take care of that. Once again she excused herself after the performance and attended to herself. We didn't mention Gary all night.

As we returned to the car she took my hand and we walked hand in hand. Every now and then she gave a little squeeze and smiled at me. I smiled back, and the agreement that holding hands was legitimate was again tacit, but when I dropped her off at her house she asked me to walk her to the door.

"Gary will be watching," she said quietly. "Kiss me hard."

So I did. My arms went round her and hers were against my chest, holding me off. Even so she had an immediate effect on my nether regions, and as her hands went round my neck she pressed and ground herself against me, so I knew she could feel it, and suspected she wanted to feel it. Eventually we withdrew our tongues and broke the embrace.

"Thanks," she said with a smile I could not interpret, and went inside. I hobbled back to the car and drove home, immediately stripping off in the bedroom and relieving my frustration manually once again.

We went ten-pin bowling the following week, which got her in a fine sweat, and I delivered her in that state early to their place, the two of us walking from the Bowling Alley arm in arm. Again at the door there was the steamy kiss and the press against my chest and my groin. She moaned into my mouth and was panting when we broke, then she looked worriedly at me, turned and went indoors.

Two more weeks passed - the Easter Weekend, and I wondered if Gary's little excursion into cuckoldry had foundered. Then on the Friday of the second week she phoned me.

"He's going to the match tomorrow," she said, and waited.

"You want to meet?" I asked.

"I'd like to see you," she said, "Just to sit and chat. I can tell him we had a hot afternoon while he was enjoying himself."

"Come round to my place," I said. "I've nothing on tomorrow."

"I'll be fully dressed," she flirted, and laughed. It was a exaggeratedly dirty laugh and I realised my double entendre.

She was so beautiful when she arrived. She was wearing a short, short skirt, no tights and a crop top revealing a bare midriff and an adorable navel. She closed the front door behind her, turned and kissed my lips briefly.

"Hi!" she said. "You decided to get dressed then?"

"I thought it bad manners to expose myself to a married woman."

She laughed, but I saw a flash of worry cross her face.

When she sat down there was a lot of shapely thigh on view. I made it clear I was gawping at it and she looked shamefaced and gestured at her clothing. I didn't need my attention drawn to it.

"So I can go back to Gary," she explained, "show him what turned you on; how you took them off and ravished me!"

She giggled. Entrancing. I mean the giggle, not the thigh view. On second thoughts, that too.

I nodded; I was not complaining.

"I don't understand him," she said. "You know, you've been around someone for years and married as well and you think you know them inside out, but you don't.

"Roddy," she sat forward, the skirt riding further up her delightful bare thighs. "I'm not really comfortable with this, you know. I think you've gathered that. This is a side of him I don't like.

"He's extremely turned on, more than before, after he thinks we've been together, but I think it demeans him. I lie there and he bangs furiously away at me; I don't think he's aware of my feelings or notices my reaction or lack of it; it's a sort of frenzy."

"You want to call the whole thing off?" I asked, fearing the response. I felt disappointed that our meetings might be over. I loved being around her.

She thought for a moment.

"No," she said decisively, "I'm enjoying myself too much. Gary doesn't like classical music or the theatre, so it's years since I did either of those. It's been great."

She hesitated. "The only thing is, I feel guilty for using you like this."

"Don't," I said. "I'm enjoying doing these things with you, and if anyone's using me, it's Gary. Does he want to carry on?"

"He tried to get me to ask you to meet more than once in a week," she said wryly, "I refused. He moped for a day after that." She laughed at the memory, then became serious.

"You sure?" she asked with a frown. "I'm taking up a lot of your time."

"I'm sure," I said. "Why Gary - or anyone - would want to share you, I can't think. I wouldn't. But I'm not grumbling; I love having you with me. Now, in three weeks Bill Bailey is on at the Palace, want to go?"

We had discussed our favourite comedians during the interval at the Exchange, and he was one of her favourites. She was enthusiastic.

We played chess that afternoon. First game she beat me. Another game, and she beat me again. She looked apologetic, and I laughed.

"From now on," I said, "I leave all strategy to you!"

The afternoon passed peacefully and cheerfully. We did a crossword together. She wanted beans on toast for tea before going home.

At the door she kissed me. She kissed me at some length, as she had when acting on the doorstep for Gary, but there was no Gary in my hallway. I kissed her back - for goodness' sake, I'm only human! She had her arms round my neck and mine made contact with her bare midriff. She then looked puzzled at her own action, then gave a self-conscious half-smile. I just stood there.

"Thank you, Roddy, for everything," she said.

Again I said nothing, my confusion must have been obvious.

"Well, 'bye," she said, kissing me again but briefly, and turning, left me standing at my door, with the memory of that skin to skin contact. Hard again and in need of relief.

I spent the rest of the evening wondering what was going on. It took a while before I realised that of the many possible explanations for the kiss, only she could provide the accurate answer and I would have her all to myself at the Bill Bailey gig to find out. I put it out of my mind. I am good at that.

She phoned the following Wednesday, and invited me out for lunch. How could I refuse? We met at a middling restaurant and while we were waiting for the main course, she looked uncomfortable and then launched into an apology.

"I want to apologise for my behaviour on Saturday," she said, colouring up beautifully. "I mean that kiss. It just seemed so natural after spending the afternoon with you and having such a good time. I forgot myself and I don't want to give you the wrong idea."

"Don't worry about it," I said, "I enjoyed every moment of it. Who wouldn't enjoy kissing a beautiful woman?" I winced at my cheesy remark, but she seemed to like it.

"Why thank you, kind sir," she flirted and returned the cheddar, "and I loved kissing this handsome man."

"Still," I said, "Perhaps it's not such a good idea; I don't want to come between you and Gary."

I expected her to say that I wouldn't, but instead she stared into my eyes, saying nothing. We broke the stare and ate our lunch, talking about everything else, everything but that.

There was no meeting that weekend, apparently they were visiting her parents. I visited mine in retaliation.

She phoned early the following week, and asked if we could have an evening in at my place. I obviously agreed and said I would cook for us. She laughed and said she would tell Gary I was cooking for her and he would have to get his own supper. We agreed Friday.

I cooked my own version of stew and dumplings, using red wine and balsamic vinegar, along with boiled baby potatoes, sauteed carrots with cumin and ginger, and buttered french beans. She was very appreciative of the food and about the home made chocolate torte and cream to follow. She had quite an appetite that girl, and not a pound overweight.

We watched a DVD of some romantic film, I think it was 'Pretty Woman' (no comment) sitting side by side on the sofa, my arm round her and she snuggling against my chest. At the end of the film, she sighed, kissed my neck sending shivers through me, and said she should be going.

She paid a visit to the bathroom, "To rough myself up."

I wished it could be for real (or at least that I could watch), but kept my unrealistic and immoral desires to myself. On leaving, this time she hugged me with another brief kiss and she was gone. I felt relief. I got relief.

Bill Bailey was his usual surreal self and very, very funny as well as brilliantly musical. His musical talent is amazing. Afterwards we went for a drink, so that Rachel could use the ladies to 'roughen up' herself.

"Wonderful show," she enthused, "I don't understand why Gary won't go; he'll watch a DVD of a comedian, but he never wants to go to a live show."

I said nothing, but I wondered if there was anything Gary liked doing at all! Everything Rachel and I had done, Gary didn't like doing.

"Next week," I suggested, "Perhaps if it's fine we could go for a drive and perhaps a bit of a walk in the hills?"

"I'd love that," she said. "Gary can't see any fun in walking, though he'll spend an hour at the gym running on a treadmill. I'll enjoy a hike. By the way, the team are playing away next week; he'll be gone all day and won't get back until late."

She would come to my place on Saturday morning.

When one goes hiking in the hills of Derbyshire, the Peak District, there is little room for considered speech. It is the effort of climbing, of the wind, of the walking. One does not do it arm in arm, or holding hands. So it was when we stopped at a pub after the hike, she began to talk, looking apprehensively at my face for my reaction.

"Roddy," she said earnestly, "Gary and I had a row last night. I told him I was going to spend all day with you while he was out, and for the first time he flipped. He said I didn't need to spend all day with you, all I was supposed to be doing was having a quick fuck and then come straight home. He said we were getting too 'pally', and he didn't want me seeing you any more. He told me - get that - told me to ring you and cancel.

"I shouted it was all his own fault. I didn't want a quick fuck, I wanted a good time. He had been warned, and no way was I going to cancel. I'm afraid I told him you gave me something he didn't. If he wanted to end the arrangement he had to do it with you, and that I'd carry on seeing you unless you agreed to stop.

"So I think," she finished, "He'll be coming to see you."

My spirits dropped. I knew I'd miss her time with me. We talked and talked about what we'd enjoyed and all sorts of other things. Still I had been expecting it as she ratcheted up the time spent with me at his expense, largely, she told me, to provoke him into precisely this action.

"Rachel," I said quietly, "I'm sorry. I never wanted this in the first place and I know you didn't. We haven't broken your marriage vows, though I have to admit, some of those kisses were disturbing and came close, but we have deceived Gary, and I'm still not sure I'm comfortable with that. I've enjoyed our time together more than with anyone else that I can remember. You are a wonderful companion.

"What do you want?" I asked. "I'll abide by your decision, but personally I think that if you were to continue with me, it will harm your relationship with Gary very badly. You made no vows to me, only to Gary."

She was silent for a few moments. Then she sighed deeply.

"You know I don't want to stop, don't you?" she said sadly. "We have had so much fun, but I knew it couldn't last. I share your misgivings about our deception. Gary was so excited at first but the excitement has been waning. So I suppose..."

That was my answer.

"I'll take you back home," I said, standing. She stood and we left the pub. It was mid-afternoon. I drove her back home, and she invited me inside the door. She stood in close, and put her arms round my neck, so I held her waist.

"You won't tell him what we've really been doing, will you?" she begged. "No matter what he says or how much he riles you?"

"You think he will?"

"I think he'll want to re-stake his claim to me as his wife, and reduce you to a fuck-toy."

"I'll know he's wrong," I said. "I wasn't your lover, let alone your fuck toy - or his, come to that."

"I think you've been-" she abruptly changed tack, "I've loved your friendship and your companionship," she said. "We had a good time, didn't we?"

"Yes, my darling, we had a really good time. In fact, I think we've got a lot closer than if we had slept together. I've loved being with you, and sharing so much."

Her eyes filled with tears. "I'll miss you," she mumbled. "I'll miss you a lot."

"Me too," I said.

"Kiss me?"

We kissed. This time it was unashamedly sexual, passionate and erotic. I could feel every contour of her body, and she, I am sure, could feel every inch of my solid erection. It was open-mouthed and our tongues duelled with each other. Her hands were round my neck, tearing through my hair, playing with my ears, and neck, and mine were stroking her back. She kissed my neck and I kissed hers, nibbling at each other. Eventually we parted and this time we were both panting from the emotion and lust we had engendered.

I turned and left the house, walking briskly back to the car, carrying all before me. Thankfully there were no neighbours to see my trousers. I did not look back. I felt guilty as hell, and hoped she did.

The following Wednesday I got the phone call at work.

"Rod, I want to see you. Tonight." The tone was belligerent.

"You know where I live."

"Not there, neutral ground."

"Where then?"

"The usual pub."

"Ok, eight thirty."

He disconnected.

I got there first and bought my pint of bitter, but did not buy him a pint, not knowing if he was driving.

I had finished my first when he arrived half an hour late. He was going to get a taxi home, so I got him a pint for himself and another for me. The pub was quite empty, Wednesday being a slack evening, so we were able to sit by ourselves a good distance from anyone else.

There was no general chat; he got straight down to it.

"Rachel and I have had a chat about you, and we've decided to call your meetings to a halt."

I found his use of pronouns interesting after my conversation with Rachel, but I nodded, saying nothing. There was nothing to say on my part, though Gary obviously felt the need to say more.

"She never really wanted to do this with you, you know."

"Neither did I," I replied. "This was your idea. I seem to rememb-"

"Don't tell me you didn't want it!" he growled. "You've been fucking her for weeks. I know how good she is. You did want it."

"We told you at the beginning. I did not want to do it and neither did she, for the damage it might do to your marriage. Obviously I've enjoyed my meetings with her since, and so has she!" I had to get that dig in. "But it was you that wanted it. It would never have happened if you-"

"Yes, I know," he interrupted, testily, "I wanted the experience. Well, I had it, and enjoyed it until you started wanting her to stay longer and longer."

"Gary," I snapped, "No one wanted any of this but you. You are the cause of this. Don't try loading any of this on me. If she asked me to stay longer, do more, I agreed. If she wanted to go home, I took her home. She called the shots, and I assumed so did you. None of this would have happened if you hadn't had your perverted little fetish."

I drew breath and then carried on, having grown angry. "You want to stop Rachel seeing me? Fine. I really don't care. You're the one with his knickers in a twist. You had a perfectly happy marriage. You still have a beautiful and loving wife and you bugger it all up and what for? Some batty cuckold theory; more excitement for you, you selfish prick.

"So if she enjoyed our time together, and wanted to stay longer, what of it? Isn't she entitled to that? You were getting your rocks off on it, why not her? Why not me? I'm telling you I don't care what the pair of you do from here on.