The Game

This is a story board. Please, if you don't like wife-watching stories, don't read this, don't vote on it, don't send me nasty emails, and don't waste either of our time.

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I first learned of my wife infidelity on a rainy day in October. I sat in the chair near the fire place, one hand on my setter's forehead, patting him dearly, and another hand tapping nervously on the arm of my chair.

I will not lie: I was upset, and even slightly angry. But after twenty years of marriage, I was also neither surprised nor shocked. Dana had, after all, been a great mother, and, most of the time, a wonderful wife. She was forty five. We were twenty when we met. She had been true to me and the kids, I knew she had. But now that they were in college, and I was working sixty hours a week, could I really blame her?

Well, yes and no.

She never actually told me of the affair. I discovered it. I went looking for a spare pair of car keys in her pocketbook, and noticed it: A piece of tissue stuck together, and smelling like, well—semen. When I unwrapped it, there was a used condom stuck in the tissue. The Trojan was wrinkled and oozing, with a hair or two here and there. I held it up, looking at the tip, filled with a copius amount of his ejaculate. Whoever he was—and I had no clue—he wore the extra large brand.

Good for her.

But we did use natural birth control, too. On the safe days, no condoms. Did she play as foot loose and fancy free with him, too?

And there I sat, on a Friday night—Dana was working late, I thought—and holding a used condom up to the light, her condom, with him still in it, evidence of their encounter.

I scratched my pooch on the head. "What now?" I said, and he licked my hand, almost knowing. I do admit to oddly smelling it, him, her, them, and the smell was intoxicating. I found myself with an erection, and also very proud my wife was able to find a well-endowed lover. Somehow, I expected nothing else of her.

That night, I fell asleep, and heard Dana come home. She slipped into the bed, trying to catch a quick look at me under the blankets. She hesitated, then turned off the light, kissing me quickly before she did so. I wanted to put my arm around her, to nuzzle her neck, but I was afraid of what I might find.

The next two weeks passed quickly, and without incident. I was able to track the nights that Dana came home late, and tried to match them with our fertility calendar. I never did find another condom, and she only asked me once if I had seen her pocketbook. I became obsessed with my thoughts. I became obsessed with my wife being such a sexual person. Did she hate me? I honestly didn't think so. She was just tired. She was just bored. But who was her partner?

When I went to the gym, I was wondering if it was this person or that person. When we went grocery shopping, I was watching who she smiled at and who she said hello to.

In the locker room, I looked at the naked men, staring at their penises and testicles, wondering what it looked like hard—was he the one she enjoyed?

On our safe day, she came home from work late, and I was sitting up in bed, reading. She walked in, kicking off her high heels and red blouse, and quickly went into the bathroom. Her firm legs quickly covered with a towel.

"Hey there," I said.

"Hi, sweetie," she responded, quickly pecking me on the cheek, before disappearing into the shower.

When she climbed into bed next to me, I curled behind her and kissed her neck and pressed my erection into her back. I started to slide my right hand between her legs.

"Oh, baby," she said. "I'm so tired", pushing my hand away.

But I knew better.

Days past, but the suspense was killing me. I wanted to confront her. I needed to know. When she came home from work, she had a present waiting for her: A used condom on her pillow.

I said hello to her while I was in the kitchen making supper, waiting for her to emerge from the bedroom.

I wasn't sure what her reaction would be. Would she come out screaming? Would she be angry I knew?

After five minutes of hearing nothing, I stepped towards the bedroom, and pushed the door open. Dana was on the pillow, sobbing.

"I'm so sorry," she cried. "I am so sorry."

I stood there, hands in my pockets, and stared down at her, her make-up running.

"How long has this been going on?"

She continued crying.

"Do you love him?"

That, of course, was the question I really needed to know.

She turned and looked at me for the first time, and eyeliner running down the side of her cheek.

"No, I don't love him," she wailed. "I love you. I know you don't believe me, but I—"

I sat on the bed next to her, stroking her jet black hair behind her ears. I bent over and kissed her on the cheek.

"Then why?" I said. I knew the answer. I just wanted to hear her say it.

"It's just sex," she said. "Nothing more." She pulled a tissue and blew her nose. "Do you want a divorce?"

I shook my head no. "No," I said, holding her tight.

"Really?"

"Really. You don't love him?"

"No," she said. "I swear, it's just physical. Please believe me."

I was fully accepting of her affair. Truthfully? It actually even turned me on. Could I stand the thought of watching her have fun? Of watching her have sex with someone else? Of being such an intruder into my wife's "other" life?

"Who is it," I said. "I must know."

"You don't know him."

"Is the sex any good?"

She looked up at me. "Are you nuts?"

"I want to know," I said, "is he, well—you know—is he hung?"

"Jeff—I—"

"Yes or no?"

Dana wiped a tear from her eye and tried to laugh. "Yeah, you could say that."

"Listen," I said, tossing her the phone. "Invite him for dinner."

"What? Are you nuts?"

"Invite him," I insisted. "He's fucking you. Can't I even meet him? Tell him to come over for dinner. I'll pretend I don't know anything."

She hesitated.

"Invite—now."

As she started to dial, I left the room, and set the table for three.

There was silence for the longest time. I simmered the sauce, and Dana sat on the couch, still choking back the tears. I had no odea who was knocking on my door. My heart fluttered, still half mad. But I did have a right to know.

And the door bell rang.

Dana ran up to me. "Please, Jeff—"

Her eyes were pleading.

I pushed her aside, and opened the door.

There before me stood a tall blonde kid, about twenty, curly hair with a runners build. He was holding a small bouquet of flowers.

At least he had manners. And he didn't even know why I had invited him to dinner.

"Good evening, sir."

"Why good evening," I said, holding the door open for him. He was dressed in jeans, and an old Ford Escort stood in the driveway.

"Your name--?"

"Dave," the kid said.

"Hi Dave. I'm Dana's husband."

The kid played it cool, not breaking out in a sweat at all.

Dana walked around the wall. "Hi Dave." She walked around me, hand extended, shaking his hand. Oh, she was good. They acted like they hardly knew each other.

After we all sat on the sofa—actually, I let them sit together on the couch, and I chose the chair—we made small talk. Come to find out, Dave was a file boy in the law firm, and started there about six months ago. Every time I started to ask a personal question, like whether he had a girl friend, Dana gave me an evil stare and Dave started shifting I his seat.

I couldn't take it any longer.

"Well, Dave," I said. "I know dinner's almost ready, but can I ask you a question?"

he shifted again. "Sure, Mr. Sanders."

"Is she any good?"

Dana cut in—"Jeff!"

"Quiet," I said. Turning to Jeff—"Do you like fucking my wife?"

"Oh, Mr. Sanders—I" he hesitated and then stood.

"Do me a favor," I said, the boy now standing. "Will you take your pants down?"

Dana turned at me and glared. "I can't believe you, you asshole."

"I—I" He was at a loss for words.

"I really just want to see your cock," I said. "I know it's an odd request, but I want to see what my wife has been enjoying."

"Please, Jeff." Dana hung her head in her hands.

"It's okay," Dave said, touching the top of her head.

He undid his jeans, and let them drop.

A trace of blonde hair whisked down his belly, to a large patch of off-blonde pubic hair. His balls, also covered with light fur, hung low in a pink scrotum, and his penis, laying soft with a large mushroom head, was at least six inches long flaccid. He was tall and skinny, and his dick looked huge compared to the rest of him.

"Would you make him hard, Dana?" I said.

"Jeff—"

"It's okay," Dave said.

Dana turned and looked at me with those evil brown eyes, and then turned to look at the large hair penis just above her forehead.

She reached up, her small petite hand touching the shaft, and pulled him down to her mouth. The large pink head disappeared between her soft lips, and David sighed and rolled his eyes backward. She sucked him to a complete erection, and then withdrew her mouth. There the youth stood, completely naked, his erection about nine inches long, sticking out in front of him like a flagpole. A small drop of precum oozed from the head, which Dana noticed. She pinched the head of his penis between her thumb and forefinger, and wiped the precum on the sofa hoping I wouldn't notice it.

I had a flaming erection neatly hidden in my pants.

"Are you wet, sweetheart?" I said, looking at Dana.

"Fuck you."

"Yes or no?"

"No."

I made a move to stand up. "I want to see if your lying."

"Stop—" she said. "Yes, I'm wet."

Turnign to Dave, his erection still curved sharply upward, and leaking more precum, I said, "David—I want you to fuck my wife."

"Sir?"

"You fuck her behind my back. I want you to fuck her in front of me."

Dana didn't make eye contact once. But she knew I meant business. She stood, and slowly started to peel off her pants and shirt. By the time I got another glass of wine, she was facing him, naked, in my living room, and they were embracing. His erection was pressed against her flat, tanned stomach, leaving a trail of precum.

"Don't wait for me," I said. And Dana laid down on the floor, and spread her legs.

David looked terribly nervous, but he never lost his erection.

He climbed between her legs and mounted my wife. His small hips were moving in and out, while he was looking at me. After several minutes and laid his head down next to her and I knew he was getting ready to ejaculate. I crawled across the floor behind them, so I could get a better look. A patch of dark hair ran down his ass. I followed it with me eyes to where they were connected. He was balls deep in her and his once loose balls were now tightened in a patch of hair. I smelled her sweet scent, and reached over to touch his scrotum. His sack was cool to the touch, and his balls felt remarkably healthy and firm. That was just enough to push him over the top. I removed my hand and he pushed deep and grunted, coming like a bastard inside my beautiful little, dear Dana.

He held her for a few minutes, her chest red with flush, and then kissed her on the cheek. Slowly withdrawing, his cock was still semi hard.

"You may leave now," I said.

David quickly got dressed and left as quickly as he had come.

Dana laid there on the floor, and it was just the two of us. I looked at her soft pussy, the hair matted and emitting a new odor, the air thick with the stench of sex. She was laying there on the carpet, another man having just squirted his sperm in her.

"Is he gone," she said?

I looked out the window. "He's gone."

"We're going to get in trouble one of these days."

"Maybe," I said. "But it's sure a lot of fun. Meet me in the bedroom."

"You're on."