Wife Needs More Pt. 02

I seemed to be constantly horny after that. At work, I would often think of her at her work with Jason, and images of her fucking and sucking him were always lurking just underneath my attention, or obsessing my attention. I could hardly concentrate on any task. Daily, I found myself desperately stroking one out in a toilet stall, as quietly as I could, imagining them fucking on our bed while I watched. She was right. I wanted it badly. But the sexual thrill it gave me was directly proportionate to the fear and anxiety it caused me.

--

About a week or two after acquiring the mirror, she had a night out with her friends. Girls' nights out were always hellish for me, waiting, wondering, imagining. I'd have to stop myself from calling a cab and going out, trying to find her. To catch her.

But I told myself that I could trust her, that we were totally open with each other, and I suffered through.

I tried not to imagine the possibility that maybe she was with Jason. That she'd arranged to meet him. I still hadn't mentioned her suggestion about taking a 'baby step' with him, and she still hadn't brought it up again, though I sensed she had been on the verge of doing so more than once.

I tried to forget the fact that she was ignoring my texts. Let her have a break from me and focus on spending time with her friends. I had a few drinks to try and calm myself. I had been trying to watch my drinking - it had picked up a little lately - but I figured I had a pretty good excuse, needing to anesthetize myself slightly against the pain of my jealousy while my nympho wife partied at the club with her girlfriends.

She was pretty drunk when she got home, late. I was in the living room where I had been trying unsuccessfully to focus my attention on a movie.

"Hey, baby," she said, her purse and keys clattering on the table by the door. She wobbled precariously on one leg while taking her shoes off.

"Hey," I said, going to her. "Have fun?"

She gave me a wet, very sloppy kiss, breathing her hot, boozy breath on me. I could smell cigarettes, too. I found myself trying to detect the taste of cock on her, but couldn't. I broke off the kiss.

"Laura..." I said.

She looked at me with a smirk.

"I didn't fool around on you, I promise," she said, reading my thoughts, then she kissed me again, and started rubbing my crotch. "But I wanted to. There were these two hot guys both giving me attention and dancing with me at once. It was really hot. One of the guys would be like, dancing up against me from behind, pressed up against me. I could feel his boner in my ass crack. And the other guy danced facing me, close, his hands on my hips. He tried to kiss me, but I turned away, and then left them on the dance floor. I had to, all the girls were there and they could see me. Kim, was like, 'Oh my god, Laura, you are so fucking bad!' She has no fucking idea, does she, baby? Let's go upstairs - I want to get fucked by those two young studs."

I stopped her.

"Laura, listen. I just want you to know. If you were ever to fool around, if you were ever like, too drunk, and impulsively did something, I'd want to know. We could work through it."

"Jake, I haven't fooled around on you, I promise. Come on, let's fuck," she said.

"I could handle it, okay?" I pressed on, wanting to be clear, and for her to believe me. "That's not to say: 'Go ahead, you've got one freebie that I'll forgive you for.' It's not a hall pass. But know that if it happened, you could tell me and that I could handle it. But lying and concealing shit could kill our marriage like a fucking bullet."

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Jake, I'm not fucking lying or concealing anything, and I don't deserve to be fucking accused," she said.

"I'm not accusing you of lying or concealing. I'm just saying, you wouldn't have to - I could handle it, and I'd want to know."

"You could handle it?" she asked.

"Yes."

"You could handle it if I fucked another guy?"

"I don't want you to, and I am asking you not to, but if it happened I would want you to tell me so we could work through it. Yes. I could handle it."

"Well, if you could handle that, then you should be able to handle it if I bring Jason home one single time, and give him one little blowjob, then, shouldn't you?"

I sighed.

"Laura."

"What?"

"For fuck's sake, Laura, we've been through this shit," I said, almost shouting at her in frustration. "I'm fucking sick of it. You are not so fucking dense that you can't get it through your head."

"Oh, I'm fucking dense, am I? Gimme a fucking break. You're all mad that I want to suck a guy's cock? You get off on it. So just fucking man up and tell me when you want me to bring him home and suck his cock while you watch and stroke your little dick."

"Jesus Christ, Laura. Listen to yourself," I said. "Is that how a wife talks?"

"Who gets to decide how a wife talks, Jake? Apparently not the wife, according to you."

"Laura, listen. If you can't fucking work out the difference between fantasy and reality, then I don't know what to tell you."

"I understand the difference, Jake. Fantasy is when something makes you really horny but you're too fucking chicken shit to actually do it."

"Fuck you."

I was shocked at myself. I had never said this or anything like it to Laura before. We were both silent for a second.

"Fuck me? Really? Fuck me? You know, Jake, if you weren't so fucking repressed, you wouldn't have left the first part of that sentence unsaid."

"And what was the first part of that sentence, Laura?" I asked, walking straight into it.

She came up close and spoke her next words close into my face. "Laura, I want to watch other guys..." Then she silently mouthed the words: fuck you.

With that she turned and staggered up the stairs.

"Very fucking clever, Laura," I shouted at her. "Clever girl."

--

I awoke on the couch the next morning to her sucking my cock. There is no better way to wake up than with a woman's mouth on your cock, as anyone who has done so knows - it sets everything in the world right. We didn't speak, but seemed to communicate plenty physically, sexually. After she had finished me, and I came on my belly, she cleaned me off with some tissues she had ready, and snuggled up next to me.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean the things I said last night. I guess I can be kind of a mean drunk," she said.

"Yeah, kind of," I said. It felt petty. "It's okay, I forgive you," I said, and kissed her forehead. "How's your head?"

"It's fucking pounding. So, I think I should get double points for that blowjob," she said.

"Sounds fair."

She rested her head on me and ran her fingertips lightly on my chest.

"I was just drunk, you know that, don't you Jake? I was being stupid and selfish. I promise I won't ask for it ever again."

So far, so good...

--

Laura resolved to take a long break from drinking after that night, so I wasn't sure if I should mention that some of my friends wanted to go out with us the following weekend, but I figured I still had some points to spend with her even after the blowjob wake up, and maybe she'd agree to be the designated driver and save us the cab money. She agreed without complaint, seeming to want to win back some goodwill from me.

It was a good night, lots of laughs and drinks. Two other couples, plus my friend Hal, whose wife was away on business. We hit a few bars, dancing, talking, laughing, telling stories we'd told a million times.

Closing time came too soon. I was having a good time, drinking a little too much, but not wanting it to end yet. Hal seemed to be in a similar mood and suggested we all go to his place, which was within easy walking distance and where he had lots more booze. It sounded like a great idea to me, but the others begged off, citing babysitters and morning obligations. I looked at Laura, and I guess I still had points to spend, because she just said, "Fine. Okay, just for a bit."

Hal and I had been friends since we were teenagers, so we had an easy rapport and lots in common, despite not seeing much of each other since we each got married. He poured me a cocktail from his well-stocked bar, and then he suggested throwing on a Metallica concert DVD while we drank and talked. We were both big Metallica fans back in the day (though I thought, and still do, that they went steadily downhill starting with "...And Justice For All"). We all sat together on his sofa in front of the TV, drinking (except for Laura) and chatting, and the next thing I knew, Laura was barking in my ear from behind the sofa: "Jake, wake up."

"It's time to go, come on," she said. I had nodded off, apparently.

We said our goodbyes, Laura a little bruskly, I supposed because she was annoyed at me for having passed out, and then we were out and into the car. She seemed a little nervous or distracted, and we didn't say a lot in the car. Even taking into account her understandable annoyance, there seemed to be something else on her mind. I began to wonder if something had happened - how long had I slept? It didn't seem long. But I started to get a bad feeling. I looked at her, but she didn't return my look.

"Something you want to tell me?" I asked.

She gave me a 'What are you talking about?' look.

"No, I don't think so," she said. "Why?"

"How long was I out?"

"Not long. I don't even like Metallica, and I wasn't drinking, so I had no interest in sitting there watching you sleep and Hal drink. What?" she asked, looking at me.

I just shrugged.

She laughed. "Oh, I see. I am suspected," she said, smiling. "Well, he is very handsome. And charming. And with that big, tall, athletic body, and those big hands... I bet he's really packing."

She caressed my thigh.

"Is that what it is? You want to know if we fooled around while you were sleeping?"

"Laura," I said.

"Do you want me to say we did?" she asked, giving me a sexy look. "Would you like that?"

"Laura, seriously," I said.

"No, Jake," she said. "Fuck, come on. I didn't fuck your friend while you were there sleeping on the fucking sofa. Or at any other time. Jesus Christ."

She took her hand off my thigh, annoyed.

"Did you do anything with him? Did you kiss?" I asked.

"For fuck's sake, Jake," she snapped. "No. Don't blame me because you drank too much and passed out. You know, you are drinking too much, lately."

"You're right," I said. "I'm sorry."

She put her hand on my thigh again.

"It's okay," she said, smiling. "But maybe ease back on the drinking, okay? Take a break from it with me."

I nodded. She was right.

We were quiet for a while, as she caressed my thigh and drove.

"You think he's handsome?" I asked.

She looked over and studied me a moment, and smiled slightly.

"He's a little handsome. A bit dense. And a fucking Metallica fan, but he's... he's a little sexy," she said. Her hand travelled up my thigh to my crotch. "Do I detect a stirring? Does the beast awaken?"

I granted her a little smile.

"I do have to admit, I wondered if he had a big dick. Have you ever seen it? Like in a locker room or something? No? Oh, you are getting big now."

"Well, it does tend to do that when you rub it," I observed.

"Mm-hmm," she said, dismissively. "In your inebriated state, are you gonna be able fuck me when we get home?"

--

We went straight to the bed before brushing our teeth. We made out a while, and she was very aroused. When I went to go down on her, she stopped me.

"Just fuck me. I want you in me," she said.

It got me a little suspicious.

"I need to get a little harder. The booze. Licking your pussy always makes me hard."

I was beginning to dread what I might discover as she brought her feet in and spread her legs for me. There was not much light, but enough to see from the street lamps outside. She was very wet, but there were no signs of the cum I was dreading, at least on the surface. I licked her up and down, along her inner and then outer labia, which she loves as a prelude. I spent a little time on her clit and was rewarded with some lusty moans and a hand run through my hair. I drew back and spread her open with my fingers, and didn't see anything incriminating. Bracing myself, I slipped my tongue inside her.

Laura moaned.

"Find anything, baby?" she asked.

Apparently I wasn't being as subtle and discrete as I had thought.

Regardless, I shoved my tongue into her as far as I could, exploring. Having never tasted a man's cum, I had no idea what to expect to taste or feel if it was there, but, to my great relief, I didn't detect anything different from her usual pussy taste.

"Oh, fuck, baby," Laura moaned. "That feels good. Is my pussy making you hard yet, baby? Would it help you get hard if I pretended that I sucked Hal's cock? That I let him fuck me? Can you taste him? Oh, yeah, fuck me with your tongue. Shove your tongue where he shoved his big fucking cock."

I was getting much harder. I lifted her thighs up high, tilting her hips back, giving me a better angle to fuck her with my tongue, and really gave it to her, mashing my mouth against her, sliding my tongue deep into her. She clutched my hair with both hands.

"Oh, fuck, baby, that's so fucking hot. You're so good to me when I'm bad."

My jaw was getting sore, so I took my tongue out of her and began licking rapidly, sloppily, with uninhibited lust, up and down her crack. Up past her clit and down past her asshole.

"Oh, god, Jake. You get so fucking turned on when I fuck other guys. I love it, oh, fuck, okay, come stick your cock in me now. Fuck your naughty wife. I need more cock."

I released her legs, and was about to mount her, when I was overcome with nauseau. I stumbled to the bathroom and was sick.

--

I was alone in bed when I woke up. I was hungover, of course - I felt like shit. Sympathetically, the sky had sent rain, which spattered sharply against the bedroom window. My head pounded as I ran my memory through the events of the night. The bar, with everyone there, then to Hal's with Laura. Metallica on the TV. Then the car, and home, fooling around, my face buried in Laura's crotch.

Laura saying: 'Can you taste him?'

Fuck.

Rewind: me passing out at Hal's.

Laura saying: 'Shove your tongue where he shoved his big fucking cock.'

Laura saying: "You get so turned on when I fuck other guys."

I sat up with my heart racing and put my pounding head in my hands.

Did I taste him?

No. It was okay. Laura was just helping me get hard with our usual fantasy play.

'Would it help you get hard if I pretended...'

Right. It was fine. It was fantasy. Hal and I went way back. He was a bit of a cad, but he wouldn't have seduced my wife, at least not with me there, for fuck's sake. That would be crazy. All of this fucked up, perverse sex fantasy shit was getting to me. Maybe we needed to stop and clear our heads. Between my paranoia and the hangover, I was feeling like hot garbage. I had smoked a few cigarettes, too, which always made it worse. That's all it was.

So far, so good...

--

I showered and went down to find Laura cooking breakfast, the smell of coffee. She kissed me, smiling. She was in a good mood.

"How's your head?" she asked.

"Pounding," I said.

"Not surprised."

A memory of Laura saying in the car, "You've been drinking too much lately." True that. I resolved to take a break. Then another memory from the car.

Laura saying: "He's a little sexy." And: "I do have to admit, I wondered if he had a big dick."

I watched her as she moved about the kitchen in her pajamas, her full breasts, bare beneath her top, swaying with her movements. Her ass, which even the most unflattering pants were no match against, shapely and sexy beneath the loose fabric.

Did Hal see that ass last night?

Her hand closing around the handle of the frying pan, and giving it a shake. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Her lips closing around her thumb and sucking a bit of icing sugar off it before it wiping dry on her pants.

"What's up?" she asked, looking at me evenly.

I shook my head.

"Last night..." I began.

"Yeah, you were fucking hammered. Let's not do that again for a while," she said casually, before returning her attention to the stove.

I drank my coffee and tried to stop my mind racing.

Along with the breakfast, Laura, thankfully, supplied most of the chat, none of which required displays of attention from me other than the occasional nod or smile.

The rest of the morning, Laura did some housework and talked on the phone, making no complaint as I nursed my hangover with a bit of pot on the deck and then a couple of beers in front of the television. Rather than lunch or supper, I endulged in daylong grazing of snackfood, and then went to have a nap sometime in the late afternoon.

Laying there, trying to fall asleep, my thoughts kept running through Laura's behaviour not only of the previous night, but of the day that was now ending. Her cheerful mood, her complete, uncomplaining indulgence of my slothfulness all day. Perhaps a barely perceptibly elevated level of self-conciousness on her part. A concealed but constant alertness and watchfulness on her part to my behaviour and attitude towards her. You spend a decade with someone, day in, day out, you can tell when something is a little sideways.

Needing to shut my mind down and sleep, I eventually got naked and jerked off, trying my best to fend off visions of Laura and Hal fucking, without much success, and drifted to sleep.

--

Our gut is smarter about some things than our brains are. A mate's infidelity being cheif among them. Whenever it was, millenia ago, that some starry-eyed fool invented monogomy, you can bet safe money that some other frisky son of a bitch invented infidelity later that same week. Evolution, selecting for genes that succeed in getting passed on to the next generation, is going to favor those poor cuckolded bastards who have a reliably accurate gut feeling for when his mate has been fucking around on him - because then that guy can then remove his competitor (say, by bashing his smug fucking head in with a large stone). As for those whose gut fails to ring the alarm bell? They don't get their genes passed into the next generation. Instead, the guy who is fucking his woman uses her to carry his genes instead, and the genes of the poor oblivious sap who's been unknowingly cuckolded are lost to history. So we've gotten good at this shit as a species. If you've been getting a strong gut feeling that your woman has been fucking around on you, I've got some bad news for you, brother: you can stop trying to persuade yourself otherwise. She's almost certainly fucking around on you.

I slept only fitfully during my nap, and at one point, I woke up realising that I could remember what song was playing on the DVD when I passed out at Hal's, and what song was playing when I woke up. I sat up and grabbed my phone and checked the setlist online, knowing that that would allow me to figure out roughly how long they had let me sleep.

I navigated to the setlist and stared at the list of songs I had slept through.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

--

I was lying awake and still naked when Laura came to bed.

"Hey, lazybones, how are you feeling? Hangover gone?" she asked, slipping in under the covers.

I nodded.

"We okay?" she asked.

I tried a smile.

She snuggled in and lazily played with my cock. It responded obligingly. She kissed me, and then lowered the sheet and went down and put it in her mouth.

Why would she be giving me an unsolicited blowjob if I was the one who had behaved badly?

I allowed myself to enjoy it for a while, delaying the conversation I had determined to have with her. I even allowed myself the perverse, painful and erotic thrill of imagining it was Hal's cock she was sucking as I watched her.