The Yosemite Shoplifter

The only sound you could hear was the very soft and gentle squish of his hand as it made it's next trip up his shaft from his balls to his cock-head. It wasn't a long trip, but he took it leisurely.

I had no idea if Sherry had been sitting there for a minute or an hour, and if Charlie had acknowledged Sherry's presence in any way, I hadn't seen it. He seemed oblivious to her being there, and she didn't seem to notice me standing watching from the hall.

And so it went. It was probably just a few minutes, but it felt like an eternity. There was an intensity in the air. Finally, the tension was broken when the movie came to an end. No closing credits. Just the logo of the porn studio that had published the film.

Charlie still had not cum, but suddenly the trance was broken, and you could tell that he suddenly sensed Sherry's presence if not my own. No words spoken, just a meeting of the eyes between Charlie and my wife. He still had his dick in his hands.

Charlie slowly got up from his chair, reached down for Sherry's arm and pulled her first up out of the chair. She went willingly but passively -- moving to the hall like a sleepwalker.

They brushed past me without eye contact or acknowledgement.

Within a few minutes, I began to hear the unmistakable sound of sex breaking the perfect silence of the morning. Movement. Moaning. The creaking of the old bed on the even older groaning floorboards of the cabin.

Part of me wanted to go back to the bedroom then. To participate. To watch. To just be a part of whatever it was that had been going on between the two while I slept. But I did not, sensing that something was going on there that my presence could not enhance but might possibly destroy.

It did not last long. Perhaps 7 minutes maybe just a bit more. The urgent pounding of the bedsprings, groans of the participants and soon enough the gasps of orgasm. Then nothing for a few minutes. A return to the unearthly quiet of the mountain morning.

I sat quietly for as long as it would take. I had a role to play here which was to sit and wait.

Sherry had made a cuckold of me before. Leaving me out in the hall or downstairs while she entertained. When she did this, it was a power game. She flaunted her infidelity - not just daring me to object, but literally rubbing my nose in it.

I fully expected that she would come out and invite me in to help clean up the aftermath of even just bend before me and present her filled sex for me to deal with. My submission and small humiliation was part of the mix that would make her pleasure complete.

The first few times it had happened I was confused and momentarily repulsed, but with time I had realized my role in all of this, and I denied Sherry nothing just as she gave me her all. So I sat like the good little husband as my wife got fucked. I waited in my anticipation. Excitement for the humiliation of what came next.

Finally, she emerged from the bedroom, fully naked and looking spent. A disturbed and slightly haunted look on her face.

I was not subjected to a submissive role though. Instead she slipped into the kitchen to set the coffee pot to going, then into the bathroom to eliminate whatever deposits Charlie had made. She returned to the kitchen, then a bit after to the living room with two cups of black.

We sat for a bit as we took our first sips. Nothing was said. I found myself confused. I had expected to play a role in her infidelities, To be her good little submissive husband. Somehow it hurt more that this time I had been denied a place in the ritual. I guess I looked perplexed.

She looked at me and provided a simple explanation. "It was weird." A few more sips from her cup then "I don't think I liked that." I waited for more, but that was all that she said.

She wrapped a blanket from the couch back around herself and walked out the door into the morning light taking her coffee with her. She took a seat on the deck. I thought about following her, but the vibes were wrong, so I left her alone to her thoughts.

An half hour later, Charlie walked out of the room, clothed and ready for the day. He didn't say much -- particularly about anything that had happened with Sherry -- and seemed ready and perhaps even eager to get moving down to town. He mentioned he had an open ticket and planned to take advantage... I assumed that meant he was going to try to hop a flight back to his home country.

I stuck my head out the door to ask Sherry if she wanted to go to Mariposa and she just waved me off. It would be just the two of us for the trip.

I was in a funk from the evenings' lack of sleep. Though Charlie tried to be talkative, it takes two to tango so he eventually stopped. He hadn't showered and he smelled of sweat and sex, even in the drafty confines of my soft top jeep. I should have felt sorry for myself, but for some reason I felt sorry for him.

I felt bad for the guy as I pulled over to drop him off. I slipped him enough money to take a bus back toward SFO airport if that was where he wanted to go. He got out of the car in the middle of town, saying a simple thanks and walking in a direction away from the valley I called home. I didn't wait to see what happened next.

I returned to the cabin and both of us called in sick from work. Sherry was quiet that day and for a few more after. A post trip crash -- it happens. She bounced back to normal over the next several days, but she never talked about the evening at all.

About a year after all this happened, I got a letter from Charlie thanking me for the loan and the hospitality. I never heard from him again and the whole small event slipped from my memory.

I was corresponding with someone recently about the old days of living in the park, and it brought Charlie back to my memory. I remembered the mystery of what happened behind that bedroom door. I knew something had happened there, but Sherry would never talk about it. I felt it was time to learn the truth.

When Sherry passed, she left bookshelves' worth of diaries and notes written over her lifetime. Journaling for her was a lifelong passion. I have been told before I should not dig into those, but it's all I really have left of her. I went looking to fill in the blanks of what happened that morning.

My memory is not what it used to be, so there was no way I would remembered the date or even the year, but I remembered a few key world events going on that the time and started around those dates. It took a lot of searching, but I found her entry for the day and date.

The entry only served to confuse me more. From her diary: "Last night we invited the demon home to play. He raped my soul. God have mercy on me."

It is among the shortest entries in her diary and stands alone to describe the event. No other entries mention him at all. I chalk it up to the psychedelics we were on.

I found nothing more on what happened and still wonder. At this point, I won't know what happened until I meet Sherry again in the next life. It's on my list of things we need to talk about...