Surrogate

"I know that Gary is a very passionate man. He told me that he'd be perfectly OK with doing what he called the five finger samba, but I knew that with my problem with my epiglottis that I could not dare try to perform oral sex on Gary.

"I knew he wouldn't want to, but I was frightened that he would stray, that he would have sex with someone else. Start an affair and perhaps even leave me. He assured me that he wouldn't and though I believed him, I still worried.

"I mentioned the problem to Beth when we were sat drinking tea one Sunday morning, I think you and Gary were out playing a round of golf, and she suddenly blurted out: 'I can help out, if you want. I can be your surrogate with Gary!'

"At first, I thought she was joking, but then she convinced me that she wasn't. We chatted about how we could bring it about. A couple of days later we mentioned the idea to Paul. He was in favour of it, of course.

"Pretty early on we decided that you would never be OK with the idea of lending your wife out, even if it were in such a good cause, so, and it pains me to tell you this, to admit to it, we decided to keep you in the dark on this.

"I am really so very sorry about that. But we were so sure that we could arrange things so that you would never know, that it wouldn't hurt you at all. But now, well, you are very hurt. We can all see that. The revelation that you tried to take your own life, well, that makes me feel so badly about what we did."

Paul glanced up, and then looked back down again. "When did it begin?"

Sally answered him: "It was twelve months ago. We decided that the first time would be at a barbecue that we held. If you remember it was a gloriously hot summer's day, we cooked and ate the food and we lounged by the pool and we drank. We... I am now somewhat ashamed to say that we spiked your drinks with something to put you out, to make you sleep. And, once you were asleep, Gary and Beth stood up. Beth came to you, kissed your head, whispered that she loved you and then she and Gary walked into the house, hand in hand. Before they entered through the patio doors, Gary turned and asked me if I wanted to come with them and watch? I said that it would be unwise to leave you alone, as you'd been drugged. They nodded and went indoors." She paused, the memory haunting her.

Paul looked even sicker. "Then what happened?"

She shook herself before continuing: "I stayed with you, I thought I owed you that much, at least. I held your hand and I stroked your head, I apologised to you for what we were doing to you, with your wife. I think I even cried, a little bit. I suddenly felt very guilty. After all, you were there, so very vulnerable. You were our good, very good, dear friend and we were betraying your trust.

"I felt it was my duty to watch over you to make sure nothing bad happened to you. I mean, how would we had felt if we'd all been indoors, with me watching my husband fucking your wife, and you'd come round and staggered into the pool and drowned? Or had choked on your own vomit?"

Paul shook his head. "Maybe it would have been better if I had just died, then? After all, if I'd died at your poolside I'd never have known that Beth was sleeping around on me."

Beth gasped: "But I don't want you dead! And I am not sleeping around on you; I am just sleeping with Gary."

Paul again shook his head. "Sleeping around in the plural or the singular is still sleeping around."

Paul stared directly ahead. "What happened, that first time?"

Gary and Beth exchanged glances. "We left you with Sally, then we went in doors and we made love in the guest room. I didn't think it fair on Sally to use our marital bed," said Paul.

Paul looked at them, before speaking again. "What happened when you came out?"

We walked back to the back garden; Sally was sat at your side, holding your hand."

Paul whispered, "Did you laugh at me when you saw me?"

"No!" Shouted Beth. "We didn't! What makes you think we'd do that?" She sounded distressed.

"That's not true, Beth," Sally's voice sounded tired. "When you came back to the poolside, you both did laugh at Paul. I told you off, and you both became quite contrite. You explained that you laughed mainly out of embarrassment, but also because you found the sight of him, lying there, dozing in the late afternoon sun, amusing."

She looked at Paul, pensively. "Why did you ask that? Did you have a reason?"

He told them off the recurring dream of being near water, and people laughing at him.

They looked at him, they were all stunned and somewhat ashamed of themselves.

He shook Sally's hand from his. "I can't believe that you would risk my life by drugging me! For fuck's sake! None of you are medically qualified! You could quite easily have killed me! Didn't you stop to consider that?"

They shook their heads, obviously they hadn't thought about that.

Sally took his hand, again. "I am sorry, Paul. I really am. We didn't think that your life could be in danger. Gary had bought the drug from a reputable online source, so we did our best to protect you, protect your health."

Gary spoke up: "Look, we also did our best to protect your marriage, too. I, well, we all talked and we realised that if you weren't getting any exclusive time with Beth, that this might hurt your marriage, so we made sure that we never had sex at your house, only either here, or at work, or in a hotel room. And we worked out that we should let Beth be yours exclusively, every weekend."

Beth chimed in, then: "And that's why I began the idea of you and me only having sex at weekends, because I did not think it right with my husband following my lover in bed with me, doing it, I mean having sex with me on the same day. Because, as hard as this might be for you to accept, it was never a cuckolding thing, this... relationship... of ours, mine and Gary. It was something separate from our married life. There was never any intention to humiliate you, in any way. You must believe me, you must believe us!"

"Fucking, hell!" Muttered Paul, loudly. "You just don't get it! How fucking patronising and condescending of you three shits! You allowed me to have the full and exclusive use of my wife at weekends, after you had been banging her like a rusty gate all through the fucking week? Shit! Don't you realise, Gary, that having my wife 5 days a week to my 2 made this whole thing fucking utterly unbalanced and completely unfair on me? Even if I had agreed to this, had known about it?

"And you say it was not your intention to humiliate me? Well, with you two fucking on Beth's desk, with your poor secretary knowing what you were doing, with her seeing how broken my discovery of you fucking around on me made me... hearing the nasty, vile things you said about me... how humiliating was that, do you think?"

Gary shook his head. "Sorry, that shouldn't have happened. And what I said about you being Beth's pathetic husband, I didn't mean it. That was just silliness on my part."

Paul looked at him, then scanned his eyes to the other two, settling his gaze on his wife. "And the kicker is, most people at work knew even before I did." He saw their surprised expression.

"Oh, yes. Beth, there was your secretary, she knew. And I have wondered why people on the shop floor were whistling that Laurel and Hardy theme, the March of the Cuckoos when they saw me? And why some people took to nicknaming me Cookie?

Beth looked bemused. "I'm sorry, honey, I don't understand... why'd they do that?"

Gary went red in the face and Sally gasped. Sally said: "Oh, my God! That's... dreadful! How could they have known?"

Paul replied: "Because you weren't as careful and as discrete as you should have been, were you? And for your information, Beth, they were mocking and deriding me as a cuckold, humiliating me without me knowing why!

"And even people who didn't know, they thought I'd been demoted because of the fact I kept having to go out to act as a useless shadow on lots of sales and engineering calls. Well, now they'll be able to surmise that the real reason I lost all my interesting project work was because my boss wanted me out of the way so that he could fuck my bloody wife!"

He stood up. "I am sorry. I can't cope with this, any more. I am going home."

Beth stood up too, making a move toward him. She looked anxious. "You are looking after yourself, Paul, aren't you? You are feeding yourself?"

He gave her a withering look. "Yeah, right! Like you care a fuck about me!" Beth gasped and choked back a sob.

He turned to Sally, who was now standing slightly back from him. "Sally, despite your part in this, I do feel sorry for you. I really do. You thought they were only doing this so she could be your sexual surrogate, right?"

Sally nodded. Paul continued: "But that's not actually true now, is it? They are having a hot and torrid love affair. They aren't fuckbuddies, any longer, you poor idiot! They are lovers! Hot blooded, cold hearted lovers!"

He stormed out of the house and returned home.

Chapter 4

The next several days were something of a blur for Paul. He saw no one, spoke with no one. He unplugged or turned off all the phones.

He had drunk the drinks cabinet dry and was sat at the kitchen table, a mug of water in front of him, when the doorbell sounded. Automatically, but less than willingly, his feet moved to the door. He hoped it was the Mormon missionaries or the Jehovah's Witnesses' as he could tell them to go away. He hoped above hope that it wasn't Beth, or someone he knew.

When he opened the door he was shocked to see his Secretary Rhonda standing on his doorstep. Actually, he wasn't sure if she was still his secretary. He didn't know if he still had a job and cared even less, for that matter.

"Can I come in, please, Paul?" she asked, kindly.

"Yes, sorry Rhonda, where are my manners? Sorry. Please come in."

Rhonda closed the door behind her and she looked at Paul and could have wept at what she saw. He was scruffy, unkempt and smelt like he was in desperate need of a shower. And he looked thinner.

Paul ushered her into the lounge of the house, somehow it didn't seem like a home, any more, she sensed this.

"Paul, when did you last eat a meal?"

He looked puzzled. "I can't exactly recall. Last time I ate? Oh, I had breakfast with Beth this morn..." he shook his head, bewildered. "No, that was on the morning of my trip up North. When was that?"

"Oh, Paul!" she was horrified. "That trip of yours was last Thursday! You haven't eaten in seven days!"

She noticed a discarded biscuit wrapper on the table. "And you have just subsisted on biscuits and nibbles, haven't you?"

He looked at her... and suddenly he lost it. He did what he had been too ashamed to do before the eyes of those who had cuckolded him. He broke down in heart-rending sobs.

Rhonda hugged him to herself and allowed him to cry himself out. "Christ, you need this, don't you, you poor, poor soul? What the hell did those bastards do to you?"

He sat down on the sofa, she sat down, next to him. She noticed that he hadn't shaved in a week, that his hair was unwashed and that he smelt sour. The skin of his face, beneath his beard seemed to be hanging loosely. He had aged terribly.

He haltingly explained to Rhonda all that had happened, leaving out no details.

At the end of his story, Rhonda threw her hands up in horror. "The rotten, slimy, no-good bastards!" She shouted. "How they could treat you, someone they love, or claim to love, like that, God alone knows!

"You are coming home with me! Pack some clothes. And your shaving gear and a toothbrush! You'll stay at mine!"

When the arrived at Rhonda's house, Paul noticed how nice it was. It was cosy and it was a real home. Paul knew she was widowed and that her son lived in the States. He did something in Silicon Valley and had been there for several years, and, according to Rhonda, was doing all right for himself.

After he had showered and shaved, Paul dressed in some of the clothing he'd bought with him from his house.

"Sit down, Paul," she said, smiling at him. "I am going to get you to eat something. It's a dish my Granny Mary who was from Lancashire made for us, when we were ill. It's called pobs. Basically, it's bread in hot milk, with cinnamon and a bit of sugar. It's what they give you when you have been poorly and haven't been eating."

He took a spoonful, ate it and said: "Oh, wow! That's delicious!" He ate it cautiously, knowing instinctively that eating quickly might make him sick.

When he had finished she said: "I think the best thing for you would be to try and get a good night's sleep. Then I'll get you some breakfast. You can sleep in my spare room. I made the bed up while you were showering. We can talk in the morning. But now, it's time I helped you find some things out."

"Oh?" he said, intrigued.

"Yes. The problem with cheaters is that they even cheat on each other. I mean, it is quite possible that Gary is having sex with multiple partners. Had you thought about that? The fact that your 'loving wife' might have brought an STD home for you?"

"Oh, shit! No! I have to get myself tested at the STD clinic!" shouted Paul, obviously anguished by the thought. "Stop panicking!" said Rhonda, firmly. "We don't have to do that. I doubt you'll remember this, but my sister Dotty works at a medical supply wholesaler. I asked her to bring me a full STD home test kit. It will test for everything, including HIV. It's an experimental unit; you no longer have to send a sample away to the lab. It does it all for you overnight. It will give you, us, the results in the morning. I doubt you have anything, but you can never be too careful."

He kissed her cheek and whispered: "Thank you, Rhonda. Thank you so very much."

She used a stylus to obtain a sample of blood from a pinprick on his right arm, dipped a test strip in his blood and placed it inside the unit.

That night, for the first time since he had discovered Gary fucking Beth, he had a reasonable night's sleep and didn't have that horrible scene playing in his mind over and over.

The next morning after he had shaved and showered again, he sat down at Rhonda's breakfast table and ate an omelette with some toast. Another good, simple meal. He was pleased to be brought gently back into the habit of eating.

Rhonda showed Paul the results of the test on a printout from her laptop that was plugged into the home STD tester. "Thank God! I am clear! Oh, Rhonda! That's such a weight off my mind!"

She smiled at him and said: "Oh, I am just pleased I was able to help you."

He looked at Rhonda and it was as if he was seeing her for the first time. She was ten years older than he and Beth, yet he suddenly realised how beautiful she was. Then he noticed that her breasts were large, much larger than Beth's (who had a decent pair on her, it had to be acknowledged) and that Rhonda had a deep and rather inviting cleavage.

"What are you staring at, Paul?" she asked him, amused by his intent expression.

He paused, wondering how to deal with being found out. He decided that honesty would be the best policy. "Umm... I was looking at your breasts."

Rhonda giggled, and went a bit red. "Oh, really? These old things?" she made them jiggle. "I've had them for ages! And you've only just noticed them?"

"Oh, no!" said Paul, sincerely. "I have always noticed them, but I never realised how cute they are, before."

The situation was starting to run away, like a train that was suddenly gathering speed. Rhonda's mind was saying: "Don't stare at my tits! You are a married man and I am a widow!" Somehow those words didn't come out right. What she heard coming from her lips were: "Oh, Paul! Do you really like them? Would you like to see a bit more of them?"

He nodded, dumbly. Before the Little Miss Sensible side of her could hold sway, she swiftly pulled her top over her head, and Paul actually gasped as her breasts quivered and shook as they became free of the restraints of her top.

"Bloody Hell!" He shouted. "Rhonda, I was mistaken! Your tits aren't big! They're fucking HUGE!"

She burst out laughing. "You like?" she said, coyly.

"Oh, God, yes!" He enthused. "I hope you won't be offended, but... Rhonda, could you please take your bra off for me?"

She shook he head, which made her breasts shiver deliciously." No, I'd rather not. Gravity hasn't been kind to the girls. They tend to hang down a bit, now."

She saw him gulp rather like a dog in a TV cartoon. It was several seconds before he responded, with a tremor in his voice. "They... hang down, a bit?"

"Yes, they do. You sound as if you like that idea. Do you?"

"Oh, god, yes! I do! Please take your bra off for me. Please!" There was a touch of desperation in his voice that turned Rhonda on, if she were honest with herself.

"OK, but please don't be disappointed, OK?"

He shook his head muttering: "I won't be!"

The bra came off, was placed on the table and Paul stared at Rhonda's breasts as he sat before him.

"Please, lean forward for me!" he gasped out.

She did, and she noticed the look of animal lust in his eyes, and she suddenly realised that she was becoming sexually excited. Moist!

She made her breasts sway, from side to side. He gasped. And after ten years of totally celibate widowhood, Rhonda wanted a fuck. Now!

"Paul," she said, hesitantly, "you have fired something up in me. Could you please come up to my bedroom? I want you to make love with me."

Paul stood up. He looked at Rhonda, and she noticed that his erection was obscenely forcing a bulge in his trousers.

"Oh, God, yes, Rhonda! Please! Just lead the way!"

Within a minute they were in Rhonda's bedroom. Paul liked it very much and told her so.

He noticed a photograph of a smiling younger version of Rhonda with a handsome young man in an RAF pilot's uniform. "Is that you with your husband," he asked, casually.

"Yes. That's Pete and I. He was an RAF fighter pilot during the first Gulf war. Oddly enough it wasn't his service that killed him, he somehow developed COPD and he died in my arms in hospital. He was only 38."

Tears glisten in her eyes. She hadn't spoken to anyone about her Pete in a long while, so to be talking about him to a man she was about to have sex with was a bit bizarre, to be frank.

Paul sensed her inner turmoil. He looked at the photograph and said, gently: "He looked like a really good bloke. You must have been very happy together."

A look of pain passed over her face. She nodded, unable to speak.

"Pete need not worry," said Paul, sincerity colouring his tone of voice. "I'll treat you well, Rhonda. And I will never let you down or cheat on you."

Rhonda nodded. She walked round to the other side of the bed, picked up the photograph, kissed it and whispered: "'bye for a little while, Pete" and gently placed it face down on the bedside table.

She looked over at Paul, grinned and said in a husky whisper: "Make love with me. Please? And don't worry, I had my tubes tied after the birth of my son."

Paul nodded and Rhonda and he quickly stripped off and lay down side by side on the bed.

They kissed and cuddled for what seemed like an eternity and then Rhonda spread her legs and said: "Make me your woman, Paul, now!"

He climbed on top of her and slid his erect cock inside her vagina. She said: "Oh, that's good! Oh, God!"

Paul started to move back and forth, pushing into and out of her. But after only three minutes he began to come off inside her.

He shouted in frustration and panic: "Oh, no! Oh, Rhonda, I am so sorry. I came too soon!"

She shook her head and stroked his face with both hands. "Don't worry. Don't take your cock out of me. Just lay on top of me, suckle on my girls and let's see what happens, shall we?"