Chapter Twenty-Four

Saturday morning dawned bright and sunny as if nothing had happened to darken our lives. The world still turned, the kids still needed taking to their sports activities and Amanda and I started the day as if the extraordinary events of the last two days had not taken place.

The terrible anger of the previous evening had resulted in wild, passionate sex as if both of us were trying to expunge the memories of all I had seen, and all Mandy had done in Andy’s office.

Neither of us able to wait, there was no foreplay; no romance, no oral sex given or received. Instead, our bodies came together with a brutal, feral energy that burst from deeper within us than I at least was prepared to contemplate.

Amanda had thrown herself into our copulation with lust and energy that had been all but missing since her first fucking by Andy, tearing at my clothes as I stripped away hers and meeting my barely controlled lust blow for blow.

As more and more of her body was revealed, I could see the faint but unmistakable marks of Pamuk’s assault that it still bore. There were small bruises around her waist and hips where his fingertips had gripped tightly, pulling her bodily onto the powerful forward thrusts of his cock over and over again. There was a sore pink patch at the tip of the cleft between her buttocks too, presumably where his wiry pubic hair had ground hard against her soft skin as her anus was brutally penetrated from behind.

My wife knew this and knew I had noticed, but she was undeterred. Indeed, there was fire in her deep blue eyes as she stood naked before me, challenging me as if demanding to know what I proposed to say or do about it.

To my shame, I said nothing. Far from driving me away, this clear evidence of her recent infidelity simply drove me on to even greater efforts in my lovemaking – though that is hardly an appropriate word for the violent, passionate coupling that followed on both sides.

I fucked my beautiful, intelligent, half-whore of a wife fucked me – or perhaps she fucked me - with a frenzy I hardly recognized as my own, slamming my cock into her already-sore and still-swollen vagina with a violence I had never suspected lay within me.

Driven by perhaps the most basic male instinct to assert my claim over her body, spurred on by my wife’s unrepentant attitude and the cruel, taunting gleam in her eyes, I took her like a man possessed.

Amanda offered no resistance as I almost dragged her towards the bed, kissing her hard on the lips, my tongue thrusting deep into her mouth as our teeth clashed clumsily. She responded in kind, sucking and biting as her own tongue writhed over and around the invading creature.

My hands moved to her small firm breasts as we kissed, crushing them cruelly in my fists. She gasped, then grabbed my head in both hands, pulling my mouth away from hers and directing it towards her tightly gripped globes.

Taking her right breast far into my mouth, I sucked on and bit into its long, dark nipples. Amanda gasped again and raked my shoulders with her nails as began to nip her teats between my front teeth, pulling and twisting them as my fingers kneaded and pinched the smooth pale globes on which they stood increasingly proud.

Amanda bore it all, sucking me with a passion and energy I had not seen in her for many months then complying with every demand I put on her. On her back, on her knees, astride me and beneath me, my unfaithful wife allowed me free, unfettered rein over her well-used body.

I took full, cruel advantage of the opportunity, hammering my painfully erect cock into her from every angle I could imagine, and with a force that had never before featured in our lovemaking. Like a crazed demon, I fucked her face and breasts, but most of all her well-used vagina, her slit still gaping wide between angry red, freshly shaved outer lips.

The only time she objected was when I rolled her onto her front parted her legs with my knees and for the first time in our relationship, tried to thrust my cock through the tight ring of her battered, still slightly gaping anus and deep into her rectum; the darkest of her caverns and the one into which I had never ventured.

Once, twice, three times she took my swollen head firmly in her fingers, directing it away from her bruised sphincter and into the gaping mouth of her vagina once again, thrusting herself powerfully backwards each time as if to ensure no diversion from its intended target would be permitted.

“Please! Not there!” she hissed into the pillow. “I’m too sore!”

Frustrated at being denied her back passage, I fucked her loosened vagina even harder from behind, my mind filling with images of Andy and Pamuk, the two men whose erect cocks had succeeded in going where mine had failed.

Had they looked down on the same long, smooth back and flowing blonde hair? Had they gripped the same tight, athletic waist and hips in their fists? Had they pulled her bottom back onto their cocks with every powerful thrust as I was doing now, barely giving a thought to her pleasure or pain?

And what had her tight rectum felt like, wrapped around their thrusting cocks, gripping them tighter and tighter until they had ejaculated deep within her body?

Brutal it might have been, but my assault of Amanda’s body was successful. For the first time in many months, my wife actually climaxed beneath me, her vagina clamping hard on my cock as she began to cum, biting hard on the pillow to stifle the animal noises that escaped from her open mouth.

Driven by jealousy this powerful, the strength of my climax and the volume of my own ejaculation that soon followed hers were as intense as any in my life, before or since. I became almost violent as it struck, thrusting my spurting cock into her as if in a passionate determination to re-assert my supposed rights over this incredible woman’s well-used body.

As I joined her in near-simultaneous orgasm, biting my lips to silence my own climactic grunts, I wished with all my love and lust that the semen I was ejaculating deep inside her body still contained the sperm needed to make her pregnant and truly mine once again.

And then it was over.

Amanda fell forward into the mattress then rolled onto her side of the bed, panting for breath, her face and chest both pink. Sweating and with a sorer cock than I had known for years, I lowered myself alongside her.

No words were spoken. None were necessary; our actions had said all that needed to be said. The fury of her resentment and my jealous anger were for the moment, spent.

With our kids asleep close by, neither of us had been able to let ourselves go as freely as we needed, but for me at least, it was the most passionate but most deeply disturbing copulation I had enjoyed for many years.

And Amanda had been an enthusiastic participant every step of the way. Except one, I corrected myself.

Following so quickly after her ordeal with Pamuk, Amanda was exhausted by her experience with me and fell asleep without dressing or even cleaning the sticky evidence of our copulation from her slender frame and hairless vulva.

I lay awake alongside her for a long time, severely troubled. Although at the time it had felt simply amazing, there was no escaping the fact that since her enforced infidelity, Amanda’s bedroom performance had been transformed. Always a delight to make love with, my sweet, pretty wife had acquired stunning new sexual skills that at times had literally taken my breath away.

The woman I had just fucked so hard and who had fucked me every bit as hard in return, had looked like my wife and had spoken like my wife; she had even smelled like my wife, but in bed had been very, very different from the woman to whom I had believed I was married.

I began to understand what she had meant when she told me that sex with Andy had been better than she had dreamed sex could ever be. If this evening was anything to go by, it had been better than I had dreamed it could be too.

I had just been given a glimpse of what my wife could be like in bed with the right man.

I had to accept that the right man might no longer be me.

***

Amanda had been sore when our lovemaking had started and was sorer still the morning after, but despite this, as we went about our usual Saturday morning chores, her demeanour was astonishingly normal. I could see she was walking stiffly, and her frequent, visible wincing when sitting down or bending over was a constant and painful reminder to us both of all that had occurred, but she said nothing.

As we shared a coffee at the kitchen table mid-morning, she was very much Amanda again. No one seeing us together would have guessed what had happened over the last forty-eight hours; even I found it hard to believe at times, but I knew how important it was to keep up appearances.

The fiction that Amanda and Mandy were two different personalities had to be maintained if our marriage was to survive.

Once again, I understood what an extraordinary woman my wife was. Her ability to compartmentalize her life was uncanny. When she was Mandy, she could be as much a whore as she needed to be without shame or regret and, as I had twice witnessed, often with considerable enjoyment.

When she was Amanda, Mandy the whore simply didn’t exist.

I smiled as she told me once again what my duties were as far as the kids’ sporting commitments were concerned. It was banal, normal and just what we both needed. It did indeed look like we might have come through another major watershed in our lives still together.

The definition of what ‘together’ meant for us had been forced to change a great deal over the past half-year. To my constant amazement and relief, though Amanda’s enforced infidelity had seriously strained our marriage, it was still far from broken. Perversely, it sometimes seemed to have actually united us, at least in a determination to progress my career as far as it could possibly go, and through whatever means were available to us.

The problem of the stolen money still remained. Despite the payments I was making to Andy, at this rate, it would be at least two more years before I had paid off even half of the unofficial loans I had unilaterally taken from the Company. My stomach churned as I realized that, if I couldn’t find a faster route out, Andy would have fucked my lovely wife over two hundred times before our agreement came to an end.

This was something I couldn’t bear to contemplate. Another plan was clearly needed and urgently too but no matter how hard I tried, nothing with even half a chance of success had so far come to mind. I had, therefore, resigned myself to a prolonged period as a reluctant but helpless cuckold.

Having lost control over one part of my life, the need to assert myself in others became overwhelming. I resolved to throw myself into my work with an even greater passion than before; to run, cycled and train in the gym with renewed energy. To be the best, most involved father to our kids that I could be.

No doubt my psychologist wife could have explained in exhaustive detail, but for me, all I knew was that having had my position as Alpha Male in our bedroom taken away, I needed to feel that some form of sexual dominance still existed in my life.

I no longer had first call over my wife’s amazing body; those deep blue eyes no longer focused only on mine in moments of passion but despite her newfound desires and sexual prowess, I still hoped that this painful period of infidelity would only be temporary. I still believed that Amanda and I could once again be the close, loving, faithful couple we had until so recently been. I still prayed that an opportunity for escape from our predicament would present itself before the damage to our marriage was too great to heal.

There was no sign of any of these things happening any time soon. I badly needed a distraction if I was to keep my jealousy under control and remain sane.

But first, there was Yvonne to deal with. It couldn’t be put off any longer.

I dutifully performed all my domestic chores as instructed and Saturday morning’s activities proceeded with their usual smoothness. As eleven o’clock approached and there was a two-hour lull in the children’s taxi-driving obligations, I took the dog’s lead from the wall and watched him go crazy with excitement.

“Another walk?” Amanda asked, looking up from her ironing.

“He’s been fractious all morning,” I replied. “He needs wearing out a bit.”

She grinned at me.

“Rather you than me. I’m still shagged out. Where will you go?”

I loved her accidental, almost Freudian sexual allusions and grinned back, but Amanda didn’t seem to realize what she had said.

“The Country Park probably. There are a good few steep hills there. That’ll fix him!”

“Have fun!”

***

Fifteen minutes later I pulled into the car park, the dog bouncing off the car’s walls and roof in excitement. When I opened the tailgate, he ran in crazy little circles until I could get him on the extending lead. Five minutes later we had passed through the large deer-proof fence and were working our way up the steep hillside.

As we rounded the first corner a short, plump figure holding a long dog lead was standing alongside the path, waiting. It was Yvonne who had obviously planned to accost me in the quietest spot on the only route into the park.

I could feel the tension in her body. She was dressed as she would usually dress to walk the dog; her plump figure covered by tight black leggings, a long jumper, jacket and knee-high boots. Her dark hair had been brushed until it shone; indeed, she would have looked very pretty indeed had her face not been so pale and her expression so worried.

“Hi!” I said greeting her warmly.

“Hi!” she replied but without her usual enthusiasm.

“How are you?” I carried on as normally as I could.

I noticed she made no attempt to kiss me on the cheek as she would usually have done so I bent over and kissed her instead. She smelled sweetly of bath oil and light perfume.

“I’m okay. Thanks for… for coming,” she began.

“You look good!”

“She frowned, “I haven’t slept much since Thursday.”

“I can imagine,” I grunted. “Shall we…?”

We walked on through a side gate and onto a little-used path through old woodland. The trees were thick, the path private and secluded and for a few minutes, we walked in silence as our two dogs showed how pleased they were to see each other in the usual doggy ways, totally ignoring their two owners.

“I thought it was you that night,” she said after a long pause as if summoning up her courage.

I made no attempt to deny the fact.

“I’m surprised you could tell, you looked so...”

“Please don’t!” she interrupted. “This is hard enough for me as it is!”

“I’m sorry.”

There was a pause. It was going to be a morning of pauses.

“How long were you watching?” she eventually asked.

“Long enough, I’m afraid.”

“You saw…?”

“Pretty much everything that happened on the bed. You were already tied up when I arrived.”

“Jesus!”

Small tears began to form in the corner of her eyes.

“Does Mike know?”

There was a long pause this time.

“He knows I see Andrew, but he doesn’t know anything about what we do.” She stopped in her tracks. “And he mustn’t ever know! Never!”

She looked up at me with a strange pleading look on her face. Then she burst into tears.

“Please don’t tell anyone! Please! I’d do anything… anything to keep that secret. Please!”

“Hush, Yvonne,” I said quietly, slipping my arm around her shoulders in a rather weak attempt to comfort her. “I haven’t mentioned what I saw to anyone yet; no one at all; not even Amanda!”

“And you won’t? Promise me you’ll never tell anyone!”

I ignored her question and held her until she recovered a little composure. We began to follow the dogs again and after a while, I moved the conversation on a little.

“Those… those things he was doing to you,” I asked a little hesitatingly. “Is it… what YOU like to do? Is it what you enjoy? Or is it just what Andy goes in for? Is he abusing you, Yvonne?”

I tried to sound concerned, but of course, my main motive was to find out if my own wife had endured or enjoyed such brutal but effective attention at Andy’s hands. The thought had of course brought another unwanted and ill-concealed erection to my trousers.

Fortunately, Yvonne appeared to take my questions at face value. She blushed, staring at her feet as she replied.

“No! It’s not Andrew, he’s lovely. It’s… it’s me. Once I get started, I just get carried away. I can’t explain it but when he does those things to me – when he hurts me - it makes me feel sexy and attractive again like I’m getting a man’s attention like I used to.”

“Does it hurt? Badly I mean?”

“Not badly. It does hurt but it’s not like real pain at all. It feels… I can’t describe it, it’s… amazing! It makes me feel… attractive – maybe even exciting again!”

The idea of needing sexual pain to make her feel attractive and interesting was far beyond my limited imagination. Amanda could no doubt have explained it in great psychological detail, but she was the last person I wanted to be involved in this sordid little episode.

“Sometimes I feel it’s what I deserve,” Yvonne mumbled into...