The Truth and Nothing But

We were a success story.

Birgit and I married ten years ago. Both of us were relatively recent arrivals in Australia. Birgit came from Sweden; I am from Germany. Starting with nothing and no certain prospects, we are now both in secure, well-paid careers and have acquired a house, two children, a circle of friends and with it, all the hallmarks of middle-class respectability.

Yet, in our beginnings, there was neither the wish nor the hope of anything like the above. In old-fashioned terms, we met in sin and carnal lust. I, perhaps less so than Birgit.

I was corresponding with a girlfriend back home, trying to persuade her to join me in Australia. I considered myself engaged but still let Bruno and Janice, his girlfriend, arrange a blind date for me. Bruno and I were childhood friends and came to Australia together.

My blind date was Birgit, a work colleague of Janice with whom she shared a flat. She was twenty-two years old, a brunette of medium height, with an hour-glass-figure and lively manners. But Birgit was engaged to a Danish mining engineer she met in Melbourne on one of his biannual leaves from his outback mining site, and therefore in need of a no-obligation partner.

Within a week we were illicit lovers, engaged in a wild-fire sexual relationship for a full year. On two occasions her fiancé was on leave and Birgit spent the time with him, only to return to our sinful trysts with an abandonment of all restraints and inhibitions. Through Janice, I heard that Sven was religious; he left Birgit sexually unsatisfied and bored.

Birgit and I had a great sexual affinity, and we eventually fell in love too. We suddenly decided to end our other relationships. We happily married each other and as equal partners and contributors were successful in building our future together.

With our disreputable past, we carried fewer illusions about sexuality and faithfulness into our marriage than most. I, for instance, had never any sense of ownership over Birgit or believed that I could or should control her behaviour. It did not mean, of course, that I did not care or react.

Birgit was a beautiful, sensuous, sexually alive woman that did not keep her physical allure and sex appeal under a bushel. While she was too much a conformist to be openly promiscuous, she liked men and flirtatiously responded when she sensed their desire. It amused me, for instance, that with older men she liked to combine her freely displayed physical attractions with the sweet manners of an innocent, admiring, little girl.

I still believe, however, that her faithfulness, to use the conventional term, lasted as long into our marriage as did mine.

The first breach Birgit still covered by silence.

During a term break, we had gone to Sydney to visit and stay with Bruno and Janice. They had married and Bruno's job had taken him to Sydney.

On the second-last day of our stay, Michael, our son, then seven years old, and I went for a day's fishing. Bruno offered to take Birgit into town for some shopping. I assumed, and Janice expected that Bruno would drop Birgit off and go to work. When, however, they came back together in the evening in high spirits, Janice was visibly upset.

And I was almost certain that Bruno had, finally, fucked Birgit in some motel and that she had been willingly complicit.

To me, while shocked and hurt, it came as no surprise. Bruno and I had been friends since childhood. In growing up, he had always considered me his wingman and been rather unduly 'interested' in my female companions.

Birgit, he had openly lusted after. He had groped her on occasions and she had allowed him to do so. I had never presumed the right to forbid what she chose to allow.

Whatever I felt on this occasion, I said nothing. Janice was seething. When we left the day after for our drive home, she asked to come with us to Melbourne. She had suddenly decided to visit her mother.

We broke our return trip in Eden, staying overnight in a motel. Janice and Michael shared a room. She and Birgit had hardly talked all day. I was tired from driving.

Birgit, however, on this night wanted to be, what only can be called, comprehensively fucked. So, she was; just as she always needed to be hen Sven had to return to his mine.

It was a frenzied, drawn-out, brutal fuck, accompanied by her senseless whispers and suppressed whimpers; finishing, for both of us in a bone-shaking orgasm with her nails raking and bloodying my back.

I never asked. For me, her sexual ardour the day after her 'shopping'-excursion only confirmed what I knew. Was our orgiastic, frenzied fuck fuelled by my anger, by Birgit's guilt or by our joint arousal about her having finally fucked Bruno?

During the rest of the drive home the next day, her cheerful and chatty mood contrasted with Janice's sullen silence. Birgit thought she had answered my unasked question. She was pleased about my unspoken answer.

It was three years later. We had another child. Michael was now ten, Martin two, and Birgit was back at work. It was for the mid-year term break that Birgit decided on a ten-day holiday on Fraser Island. With her claiming that she needed a break, I suspected from the outset that she did not want to go on a family holiday with the children and me. She knew that I would not be keen to go to a beach resort. I had no liking for the sea, sand and surf and the associated crowds.

So, acting with a show of partly justified truculence, my wife went to Fraser Island on her own. She returned tanned, glowing, in high spirits and an aroused sexually adventurous mood. The holiday had done her good and things were for a while much better between us.

In chatting about her holiday, she mentioned in passing that a chap, Ian, had taken her, and others of the group she was with, sailing.

In January we again went to Sydney. Thinking about what had happened three years ago I was not eager. Birgit, however, insisted. She made the arrangements and I could find no acceptable reason to object. Bruno and Janice welcomed us as before.

On the day after arriving, it became clear what had drawn Birgit to Sydney. It was not Bruno.

Ian, Birgit's Fraser Island acquaintance turned up on Bruno's and Janice's doorstep.

No explanation needed to be given, how Ian knew that Birgit was in Sydney and where and when to find her. They obviously had been in contact since Fraser Island. I was sure, that they were lovers, that they planned to continue their affair and had decided to confront me with the unadorned truth.

I was taken aback. Away from home with the children, as a guest at Bruno and Janice, I was in no position to take a stand and make a scene. I was, as a responsible adult, in no position to walk out of my marriage there and then.

Birgit had banked on it that vulnerable and exposed as I was, I would have to accept her affair with Ian as a fact. Which I shamefacedly did.

For the following Sunday, Ian invited all of us to go sailing. Bruno and Janice declined. So, it was Ian, Sue his wife, Birgit, I and Michael that went. Janice had offered to look after two-year-old Martin.

Ian's small boat was not moored but 'parked' on land at a yacht club in one of Sydney's northern inlets. On helping Ian to manoeuvre it into the water, I split the sole on one of my feet.

After a short sail, we settled down on the beach for a picnic lunch prepared by Sue. I, tender-footed and injured, lay in the sand all afternoon like a stranded whale while Ian sported with Birgit in the water and played ball with Michael.

Sue did not join in their merriment and kept me company.

When Ian drove us back to Bruno's place, I learned that Birgit had accepted their invitation for a barbecue-party; with some of their friends, they said, for tonight. Birgit immediately offered to come with them to help prepare for the party. Before leaving, she hugged me in the presence of all, hummed and hawed, and asked me to patch up the cut on my foot and come later.

I did not. Janice took one look at my foot and decided that Bruno must take me to the North Shore Hospital. And indeed, the gash needed to be disinfected and required stitches. We returned home from the hospital's Emergency Department at two in the morning.

Birgit had not returned. Neither had she rung.

Ian brought her back in the morning. Everybody had had too much to drink to drive Birgit home, so she stayed overnight. It was plausible, not to be argued with.

Ian was a pleasant enough guy. He was in his early forties, of medium height, beginning to get chubby, with thinning hair. He was tanned and seemed fit. Sue, during our afternoon of sitting together, told me that Ian owned a sheet-metal plant that prefabricated casings and ducts. At this stage, I had not seen their house but his car and boat and everything Sue said suggested that they were moderately wealthy.

Sue was nice; unaffected, well-spoken, with easy, relaxed manners and a good sense of humour. She said she was a working girl; had at nineteen joined Ansett Airlines as a stewardess, and had flown all over Australia for twelve years until "Reggie", Reginald Ansett, the airline's owner, "decided to get rid of the old boilers".

She had met Ian on one of her flights. When she lost her job, Sue grinned, "Ian took pity and married me".

Sue was quite attractive, taller than Ian, slim, small-breasted, and long-legged with a nicely shaped bottom. But, unlike Birgit in her bikini, she appeared ill at ease in her one-piece bathers. She seemed to enjoy talking with me more than joining the frolicking display of Birgit and Ian.

Sue and I, as if we agreed on it, did not mention Birgit. She knew what was going on. So, what role did Sue have in this play staged by our partners?

Mine, I knew. I had been cast the fool!

Midweek, Ian turned up one evening and collected Birgit for an outing, again returning her the next morning. Janice and Bruno were intrigued but I explained nothing. Bruno, after fucking Birgit last time, was no longer a friend to confide in.

The next day, on an outing with the children to Sydney's Zoo, I tried to talk to Birgit. Her face stonily set, she just complained that I was not interested in the friend she had made. For the whole Sydney holiday and their arranged meetings, she gave no explanation or excuses.

It was cowardly but Birgit's brazen unconcern stopped me from asking her how she felt about me and how she expected me to react.

On Saturday Ian and Sue invited us for dinner. I would have, I believe, refused but Sue had rung me separately to ask me to come. Any pretence was dispensed with. Bruno and Janice were not invited, and it was clear that they did not expect Birgit to bring her children.

We accepted; Birgit, I was certain, with foreknowledge of what was planned and I with a mixture of anger and curiosity.

It was one of Sydney's sticky-warm January nights. All of us were lightly dressed. To avoid the pestering gnats, Ian decided that we should stay inside. Immediately upon arriving, he and Birgit paired off. Sue attached herself to me as if it was agreed on in advance.

Sue had prepared a light-cold meal of oysters, prawns, and salads. To fit the intimacy of the situation she had dished it up on a round table in their spacious kitchen and not in the dining room.

On standing around with our pre-dinner drinks, close to our partners for the night, I noticed how Birgit had slipped into her seductive-submissive little girl mode. She listened to everything Ian said with wide-eyed attention, giggled in response to his wit, reached out with her hand to give him an appreciative pat and, inadvertently, of course, in leaning in pressed her boobs against his arm.

Sue and I just talked. There was an amused smile playing over her lips. It was caused by what she sideways glimpsed and, perhaps, by my awkward discomfort and not by my rather laboured conversation. Being uncertain about what would happen next, I concentrated on my drink, watched, and was careful about what I said.

When we sat down to eat, Ian and Birgit demonstratively pulled their chairs close together. As he leant over to whisper something in her ear, he quite openly put a hand on her naked thigh. Birgit had dressed appropriately for a hot Sydney night in a mini summer dress, no stockings and, I was sure, no bra.

Sue, as hostess sat down last; also, much closer to me than our round-table arrangement would have forced on her. When our thighs touched, I did not draw away.

We enjoyed our meal and, with the second bottle of Sparkling our exchange of stories became quite lively. Ian talked mainly about sailing and holiday adventures, Birgit about her time in the embassies in London, and I about my experiences as a bell boy working in an international hotel. All our stories were tinged with suggestive details not of what we had experienced ourselves, but of what we had witnessed and observed.

It was Sue, however, that charged the atmosphere to a much higher erotic level. She told, with no saucy detail spared, about her years as an airline stewardess. She relished talking about her past, an itinerant life then so unusual for girls; away from the control of parents, relatives, and neighbours.

With great animation, Sue told about the wild parties at hotels at crew-change, sleep-over places in all parts of Australia, sexual peccadilloes among staff, adventures and romances with passengers, the competition which was the "flightiest crew" at Ansett and which of the girls' had finally made it into the "mile-high-club". Sue and her tale became as it progressed, infectiously sexier; I began to respond to the laughter in her voice, her delight in being racy, and the slinky rubbing of her thigh.

We had finished our meal. Sue grabbed our four emptied glasses, Ian a fresh bottle of Sparkling from the fridge and we adjourned to the living room.

In walking out behind them I observed how Ian's arm around Birgit's midriff rucked up her mini-dress. It revealed a flash of red, lacy panties I had never seen her wear before.

In the living room, Ian and Sue swiftly rearranged the setting by moving the coffee table's narrow end against their four-seater couch before placing glasses and drink on it.

Then Ian, on one side, sat down on the floor. Reaching up, he drew an unsurprised Birgit down on his lap. Her dress slipped up to her navel. Sue looked at me and with a sly grin said:

"Well, let's join the two sinners."

She slid down on our agreed-on side of the table. Leaning against the couch she stretched her long legs. Her loose shift had opened and gone askew. She smiled up at me and patted the floor.

I sat down feeling foolish. I was so obviously out of my depth. I needed to be helped into a setting familiar to the other three.

With drinks poured, we toasted, drank and somewhat fitfully renewed the banter from before. Soon, however, the talk across the barrier of the table ceased. Ian and Birgit were becoming more exclusively engaged with each other. They did not try to hide it.

Sue and I lounged close but not too close to each other on the floor sipping our drinks, exchanging a few words, and smiling questioningly at each other. She had placed one hand over mine which rested on the floor close to her leg, with both uncovered up to her thigh.

I had not touched her; I was in a state of semi-shock and left it to her to bring me into play if she, or they, as I suspected, had so planned. Eventually, Sue turned her empty champagne glass upside-down. She grabbed my hand to pull me up with her and said:

"Come on, Mark. Let's see what else is in the fridge. The night is young. Too young to run on empty."

We went back into the kitchen which with a wide, door-less opening adjoined the living room.

Sue did not switch on the light. I leaned against the sink while she selected a fresh bottle from the fridge and placed it on the table. Then she stepped up to me, put her arms around my neck and drew me into a long unrestrained kiss. Her legs parted enough to half-enclose one of my thighs to rub her crotch against it. When my hand slid down her back to press her even closer, she broke out of the kiss. With a throaty laugh, she rubbed her body full-length against me:

"Glad you made up your mind and I won't be missing out again tonight. Why should they have all the fun!"

Standing there against the sink, matters between Sue and I progressed quickly. She had declared herself ready for whatever the others were doing and held nothing back. When my hand slowly slid up her thigh, to her ass it found it bare. When I mumbled: -

"Lovely. You are dressed for a hot night? Or even a hot and naughty one?"

Sue kissed me in affirmation. Then, with a soft purling laugh, she said:

"I lived in hope, Mark. I like you. I have fancied you since we met last Sunday."

I knew it was not the truth. She turned her head to look out into the living room and so did I. They had switched on moody, subdued lighting. Ian was partly hidden behind the table.

In view were Birgit's legs, invitingly spread, her dark bush was covered by Ian's hand and no longer her red panties. Sue pressed herself hard against me. With her voice half-strangled with, was it anger, was it lust, she said:

"Look at them, they are at it again! What are we going to do? Join them? Do you want to watch Birgit getting fucked by Ian? Does such watching turn you on? Does it make you all the hotter then for fucking me, his wife?"

Sue broke out of our embrace. Stepping up to the table, with her back turned on me she busied herself with the Sparkling. Aiming the bottle to direct the cork to explode into the living room she grinned at me:

"I've seen all this before. If you prefer, I'd like to take you and this bottle away to a convenient bed. I've had enough fucking on the floor."

Sue moved in again for some more, serious kissing. She turned my face away from looking into the living room. After a while, she drew away. Reaching for the bottle and with an over-the-shoulder, "Are you coming?" she led the way across the living room to the hallway.

I followed.

In passing I saw that Birgit had mounted Ian. She was crouched over his body. Her dress was rucked up to her breasts and his cock was in her. I stopped for a moment to look, having never seen Birgit's beautiful ass move slowly up and down, fucking another man's cock. Although she was still silent and had not yet started to properly ride, the glistening wet white at the root of Ian's cock proved how ready she was to give him her all. She looked up but I avoided her eyes.

Sue took me to a spare bedroom and turned on a bedside lamp. She turned around, looked at me challengingly and lifted the bottle to her mouth for a swig of Sparkling. Putting the bottle down on the bedside table she started to sway her hips. She lifted her arms over her head and said:

"Well! Here we are. You saw them fuck already. Again! Let's get even. I am all yours. Or do you want to be mine; like her, me on top?"

The desire for her and an acceptance of the situation not of my making had almost replaced any anger. I bent down for the seam of Sue's shift and slowly peeled it off her body.

She was much more beautiful naked than she appeared when dressed or in her bathers: tall, slim, and well-proportioned, she had small, firm breasts with dark areolas and perky nipples; nicely rounded hips, long legs and shapely thighs rounded off by a sexy, firmly contoured ass with sexily dimpled buttocks.

As Sue offered herself so freely there was no awkwardness in our beginning. I suddenly felt that our sexual encounter, with me being the fool in their play, should happen in a light-hearted if not joyful mood.

Sitting on the bed I took a long look before I pulled her close. Putting my hands on her hips I turned her left and right and then around, grunting at her when she appeared to stiffen under my directing hands but then making prolonged, appreciative humming sounds as I admired every part of her closely. She had stopped struggling and swayed to be admired., Finally, after kissing her belly and bush, I declared: