One Step Behind

"UH! UH! UH! UH!"

Marcus' muscular chest was pressed hard against my wife's back as he fucked her, cruelly crushing into the mattress the full, rounded breasts that had fed our three children. Caroline's hands were stretched outwards and upwards, her fists opening and closing as her pleasure mounted.

Creak! Creak! Creak! Creak!

"UH! UH! Oh God! Oh God!"

I couldn't move, I couldn't speak, I couldn't breathe but most of all, I could not tear my eyes away from the scene before me. My oldest friend was fucking my wife hard, relentlessly. She was responding with a passion and desire I hadn't seen for decades, turning her head hard round so her lover could kiss her deeply on the mouth as she became more and more aroused.

Creak! Creak! Creak! Creak!

"UH! UH! Oh GOD! Oh GOD oh GODD!!"

This was the Caroline of old; the Caroline I had first fucked in London; the Caroline that had been such a tiger in bed during our early, pre-children days. At Marcus' obviously expert hands, the years and reservations had melted away, leaving the hot, passionate woman I had married fully exposed and available.

Creak! Creak! Creak! Creak!

"UH! UH! Oh God! Fuck me! Fuck me oh God fuck MEEEEEEE!"

And then she came and came hard. Before my helpless, watching eyes and impaled on my best friend's cock, my sweet wife reached the kind of orgasm I had only dreamed about or seen in porn. Not even in our youngest, most adventurous days had my own appendage produced the body-flexing, lip-biting, leg spasming climax that I witnessed that afternoon.

"OHHHGODDDYYYEEESSSS!"

Caroline's hands reached back, her fingernails digging hard into Marcus' thighs and buttocks as he hammered himself into her helpless, prone body mercilessly, driving her from climax to climax until with a wail choked off in her throat, she reached the highest peak of female arousal I had ever seen; far beyond anything she and I had achieved between us.

The speed with which it had all happened and the outrageous things I could not stop myself from watching had completely stunned me, but as the pace of Marcus' thrusts increased and my wife's cries grew louder and wilder, it began to dawn even on my dazed mind that the action on the bed would soon reach its natural and messy conclusion.

Creak! Creak! Creak! Creak!

"CUMINMECUMINMECUMINMEEEE!"

Soon, Marcus' cock would start to throb and pulse within Caroline's vagina. Soon, his back would arch, his face would grimace, his body would go into spasm and he would do as she had demanded; fill her with his seed.

Creak! Creak! Creak! Creak!

"CUMINMENOOWWWW!"

From where I stood, my eyes glued to the bed, I could not see whether the supposedly huge cock plunging in and out of my wife's body was clothed in latex, but from the passionate way she begged for insemination, I guessed not.

Creak-creakity-creakity-creeeeaaak!

Then before my eyes his rhythm broke, loud hoarse grunts burst from his open mouth and Marcus' much-desired ejaculation began.

Frozen to the spot, all I could do was watch and imagine as before my eyes, millions of tiny, live and lithe sperm erupted from the end of his cock in a torrent of warm, sticky semen and began their desperate journey into Caroline's womb in search of one of her eggs.

"GOD YES! YES! YES! OHMYGODYESSS!"

With a dozen slow, powerful thrusts that drove her bodily up the bed, Marcus delivered his load deep into my wife's eager, accepting body. Her legs opened grotesquely wide to receive it, her hands clasping first him then the bedsheet tightly, her lips seeking and finding his as the two lovers reached a pinnacle of mutually orgasmic insemination.

Then reality began to strike.

As the movements on the bed faded to a breathless stillness, suddenly I became aware of my secret voyeuristic presence, and the real possibility of discovery finally hit me.

I can honestly say that at that moment, the idea of breaking in on their tryst, discovering them in flagrante delicto and bringing their affair to a sudden end, never even occurred to me.

All I could think was that I needed to get away, and to get away quickly before I was caught.

Chapter Fifteen

It makes no sense now, but for me at that moment, the shame of being discovered as a voyeur far exceeded the need to remonstrate with my unfaithful spouse and her lover.

As Marcus' softening cock was slowly withdrawn from my wife's spent, satisfied body, their happy, post coital kissing and pillow talk began. As he rolled onto the bed alongside her, panting, I backed away as silently as I could, padding across the landing and down the stairs, then retraced my steps out of the back of the house and along the street to my car.

I needed to put time and distance between me and the unfaithful, deceitful couple on that bed.

I needed time to think.

I sat in the driver's seat, heart thumping, gasping for breath, trying to make sense of my terrible discovery.

My wife; my sweet, innocent Caroline; the mother of our children had been cheating on me with my oldest friend. There was no doubt; I had seen it with my own eyes and heard it with my own ears. I had even smelled their infidelity.

And she had loved every moment of their illicit copulation. She had cum longer and harder than I had ever seen her cum and had welcomed his semen into her body as freely as she had ever welcomed mine.

There was no way of telling whether this was their first time together, but it was crystal clear that my wife had been an enthusiastic participant in the performance.

Was this it for us? Was Marcus going to beat me one last time? Had I just witnessed our marriage coming to an end?

One thing I knew instinctively: no matter what Caroline had done I did not want that to happen.

But how should I behave? What should I do? What could I do?

It was far too late to burst in and catch them in the act, but could I just ignore the flagrant breaching of trust and vows that had taken place and carry on as if nothing had happened? Surely that would only result in it happening again.

My mind was spinning.

In the end I took the coward's way out, blinked back the tears that were forming in my eyes and began my long journey north, driving far too fast and feeling far too upset.

I was halfway to Scotland before I realised that I still did not have the file I had needed so badly.

And that throughout the whole dreadful incident, my cock had remained as hard as it had ever been.

***

The next forty-eight hours passed slowly and like a nightmare. For six and a half of those hours, I was driving Northwards, alone, with nothing but my memory and imagination to torment me. I tried listening to the radio, to music and even to audiobooks to distract myself but it was hopeless. No matter what I did, vivid images of the woman I loved being fucked and inseminated by my oldest friend came flooding back.

But it wasn't just the terrible things I had seen that afternoon that returned. No, that would have been much too easy. Images I had kept buried for decades now began to join them; memories right back to my schooldays returned with a sharpness and precision I was sure they didn't have at the time.

Above all, images of Caroline's extraordinary defloration so many years ago filled my mind; of the way she had held my hand the first time her lovely soft body was penetrated, of the way our eyes had met and our fingers interlocked as her virginity was torn from her.

And in the months that followed, of the way she had looked and sounded as she had been fucked by Marcus so many times as alongside them I had claimed what at the time had seemed the greater prize of Annabel's slender, athletic body.

I arrived in Scotland too late for dinner in the hotel's restaurant, so went to bed hungry. Too fragile to hazard a voice call, I sent Caroline a text message assuring here I had arrived safely then turned out the lights and tried to sleep.

It was hopeless. Every time I closed my eyes, the images returned, along with endless questions.

How long had they been lovers? They were too comfortable together for what I had seen to be their first fuck.

How many times had they fucked? From the way their bodies had merged in tune on the bed, they were clearly well used to each other's needs and desires.

And who had made the first move? From what I knew of her, I couldn't imagine it being my wife. But then I couldn't have imagined the woman she had become being fucked so passionately by anyone.

Perhaps even after decades of marriage, I didn't really know my wife at all.

How could I have missed their affair beginning? Was I really that stupid? That unaware?

Now of course, Caroline's change in lifestyle and her sudden loss of interest in sex with me made complete sense. Her desire to look and feel more attractive in the company of an attentive, good looking man should have been obvious too.

Had her loss of interest in sex with me corresponded with their first mating and a desire to conceal the evidence? Or had there been signs on her body for much longer which I had been too stupid, too trusting or too distracted to understand?

But above all, why had I been so helpless in the face of rampant, undeniable infidelity happening before my very eyes? Why had I been unable to react in any way? Why had I stood there frozen instead of breaking in on the two lovers, sending my rival packing and reclaiming the woman who had vowed to be faithful only to me years ago?

And ever since that terrible discovery, why had I been tormented by an erection so hard and so constant that only repeated masturbation and ejaculation could subdue it enough for me to get a few minutes' sleep?

***

Considering I had passed a largely sleepless night and had forgotten the most important file, my meeting the following morning went well. I was invited back for further discussions doon, but the biggest benefit for me was that, for a blessed ninety minutes, I had to concentrate so hard on my work that my newly discovered cuckold status was driven from my mind.

Indeed I was half an hour into my return journey before the memories and questions returned, but when they did, they returned with a vengeance. In only a few hours' time, I would be back home with her and our kids, in the very house where only a day before I had witnessed her cheating.

Then another thought struck me. Why did I think that I had seen the end of their copulating? Why wouldn't they be taking maximum advantage of my absence and still be together? Had they fucked again and again after I had run away?

The kids would have come home after school, so it was unlikely Marcus had stayed the night in my bed, but that didn't mean he hadn't visited Caroline again once they were asleep.

And once the kids had gone to school this morning, what was to stop my best friend and my wife simply going back upstairs and carrying on from where they had left off?

Was Marcus' cock even now inside my wife's vagina as I drove the long, long way back home?

Oh my God!

What would I find when I arrived home?

How would she greet me?

How would I react given all I had seen?

Would her body still show the signs of recent, passionate sex?

Would she let me close enough to find out?

Would there be evidence of his presence in the house? In my bed? In my wife?

And why, oh why was my cock constantly and consistently hard?

Chapter Sixteen

"Hi! You've made good time!"

The pretty, familiar face that greeted me as I walked into the hallway of our house was smiling and welcoming.

"Daddyyyyyy!"

The two kids ran from the TV room and into my arms. I hugged them tightly as Caroline went into the kitchen to put on the kettle and put the dinner into the oven. Once their duties to their returning father had been done, the two teenagers ran back to watch yet more of the box set that was all they and their friends were interested in.

I joined my wife in the warm, bright kitchen, feeling deeply unsettled but trying to conceal the fact.

"I hoped you'd be back early," Caroline said. "The kids have eaten but I waited so we could eat together. How was the trip?"

I explained it had gone well but that another visit would soon be necessary. She seemed pleased at this prospect, but it might have been just my imagination.

"How did the cycling go yesterday?" I added.

Caroline frowned.

"A washout. Literally," she told me.

"You didn't meet the guys?"

"We met them okay, but the weather was so bad that a ride was out of the question. Marcus and I had to find something indoors to do instead."

I did not let on that I knew what that 'something indoors' had been, or that it had also involved a ride, but I also refrained from asking what they had actually done. Caroline seemed relieved when she realised that the question she had no doubt dreaded was not going to be asked, but I couldn't have borne watching my wife lie to me so very obviously.

"How was Marcus?"

"Disappointed of course. I think he had looked forward to the ride as a means of letting off steam. He has so much energy."

I laughed inside; I had seen some of that energy being burned off in our bed, along with a fair few calories of my wife's too.

"Have you fixed another date?"

"We'll meet again same time next week," she replied overly casually.

"I meant for him to go cycling," I smiled as naturally as I could.

"Oh. I'll leave it to the boys to work out their diaries themselves," came the unconvincing reply.

We ate dinner together as normally as we had for the last twenty years, me filling in the details of my trip, Caroline avoiding telling me anything at all about how she had spent the last two days.

I observed her carefully throughout the meal for any tell-tale signs of infidelity but could see next to nothing. She was wearing a blouse with a higher neckline than usual but that could just have been coincidence. Indeed, there was so little to see that for a moment I began to wonder whether the whole thing had been some weird kind of dream.

But then the swelling in my trousers reminded me of what I had seen.

We watched the TV news together in our usual, separate chairs, then went up to bed. After more than six hundred miles of travel in two days, and a sleepless night in Scotland, I was far too tired for sex.

But as usual, it was not on the menu anyway.

I was however, not too tired to notice that the bed in the guest suite had clean sheets, the windows had clearly been open a long time, or that my wife avoided being naked in my presence and had chosen a high-necked nightie despite the warm night.

***

Since then, I have read many stories about cuckolded husbands; how they had always dreamed of watching their wives or girlfriends with other men; how they enjoyed the humiliation of being compared unfavourably with their partners' lovers in terms of cock size, or technique, or Alpha Male status.

They might be true; they might not. All I can say is that for me, finding out that the mother of my children was being fucked by my oldest friend was a truly baffling, surreal experience full of contradictory emotions.

I honestly did not know what to think or do about it.

I most certainly had not fantasised about Caroline being fucked by other men; I had already seen that when we were teens and knew what it was like. As far as I knew I had had no hidden desire to be humiliated either in her presence or outside it. I had not always wanted to be second place in her life, or to be bound in chastity as other cuckolds seemed to desire.

But there was no denying that, far from being outraged at the betrayal that the two adults closest to me had inflicted, I had found it massively arousing at the time and to my distressed bewilderment, continued to find it so.

It was that inexplicable fact that prevented me from having it out with my unfaithful wife and her lover straight away.

Looking back, this was a serious mistake; the longer I delayed confronting them with what I had seen, the harder it became to do so. And of course, the harder it became to confront them, the more I delayed doing so and a vicious circle of prevarication and denial developed.

There really was no limit to my attempted self-deception. I told myself lie after lie:

I had not really seen what I thought I had seen; and if I had, there must be a perfectly innocent explanation.

Caroline had not really been in our bed with Marcus; it had been some other woman who looked the same.

His cock had not been inside her vagina; they had been performing some strange kind of yoga or exotic exercise.

My wife had not been begging him to fuck her and inseminate her; I had mis-heard her words entirely.

After all, our lives were continuing exactly as they had before, or at least they appeared to be, so it simply couldn't have happened, could it?

Even as I lay awake night after night with my head spinning and my cock unbearably and resolutely hard, I knew I was deluding myself both about what had happened and how I felt about it. Eventually I had no choice but to be honest with myself; Caroline really had cheated. Marcus really had been fucking her; I was a cuckold.

But being forced to accept that my wife had cheated did not in any way relieve my distress or end my denial. Hopelessly I searched for other ways to delude myself:

Perhaps it had only been a one off and I had been unlucky enough to witness it.

Perhaps it was all over; the two of them had simply got carried away after a difficult morning and had done something they both regretted.

Perhaps they were full of remorse and determined never to let it happen again.

As straws to cling onto they were weak, but they took time to think about, and made confronting the pair of them even later and even more difficult.

It was around four o'clock in the morning five days after my terrible discovery that I realised there was only one option; I had to try and catch them doing it again. If I could not catch them fucking, I could tell myself it was all over, try to forgive them and move on. If I did catch them, then I would know for certain and could confront them straight away without appearing weak for having waited so long.

Caroline had said their next date was the following Thursday. I resolved to take time off work and find out once and for all what was going on.

The best-laid plans of mice and men...

Chapter Seventeen

So began the most degrading, most shameful period of my life. For the next few weeks, I took the same afternoon off work and spied on the two lovers as they carried on their affair. I felt dirty and disgusted with myself as I did it, but completely unable to prevent myself from watching my wife cheating on me.

Not only that, I took steps to make the terrible task easier; oiling door locks and hinges, studying which floorboards creaked and which didn't; inserting matchsticks into the guest suite door's hinges so it could not be properly closed. I even put a few slabs down on the gravel path outside to deaden my footsteps.

And to my delight all my preparations paid off. The very next Thursday afternoon as I approached our house on foot, I was positively elated to see Marcus' car parked in our driveway. I followed my previous route through the silently opening back door and along the corridor to find Caroline once again naked in the bed, being fucked slowly and comprehensively by my oldest friend.

'Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh!'

This time she was on all fours, her pretty face towards the headboard while Marcus, his back towards the door, hammered into her vagina from behind. Her full breasts were hanging down beneath her chest, rocking back and forth with every powerful thrust.

Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!

'Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh!'

For the moment safe from discovery, I watched intently as my wife surrendered completely to her lover's assault. Her head rose and fell as spasms of pleasure rippled through her, and the room filled with the sounds and smells of copulating bodies.