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Acts of Infidelity - Judy & Sam - Part 1

Did she cheat thirty years ago? Did she fall pregnant? Will he ever know the truth?

This is Sam’s story though the words are mostly mine. He has lived with it for most of his married life.

It’s an unusual tale. You might think it’s based on little or no hard evidence but remember that suspicion and jealousy are never objective. Far from it; they are deeply personal, needing only the flimsiest of evidence to work their evil tendrils into the minds of their victims and torment them horribly.

And though by no means conclusive, the evidence here is by no means flimsy.

For most of his married life, Sam has lived with the suspicion that early in their marriage, his wife Judy cheated on him. He suspects that she was seduced by an attractive but notoriously philandering colleague from work, slept with him on at least two separate occasions and if Sam’s worst suspicions are true, might even have become pregnant by her lover.

Like many in the medical field, I know only too well what goes on in hospitals and at conferences when the sun goes down and the alcohol flows, especially to those who aren’t used to such intense an environment. I have seen with my own eyes the surprising people that take part in such activities. Believe me, marriage is no barrier to nocturnal adventures.

That alone gives extra credence to Sam’s fears and suspicions in my book.

Ever since then, Judy has consistently avoided answering any questions about the incident. Sam has never had the courage to force the issue to a conclusion so it has remained unresolved throughout most of their marriage.

I hope you enjoy the story. All the names except one have been changed – I’m going to let you try and guess which one – and all the places too.

But the events are exactly as they took place.

Remember as you read it that, however weak or strong you believe its basis to be, the fact remains that it has tormented a man for over half his life.


The room is dark; the bed stands in a low glow of light.

I stare helplessly at it, unable to speak, unable to move, unable to drag my eyes from the bodies writhing on the clean white hotel sheets. In front of me and oblivious to my presence, Judy, my wife and the mother of our two children is lying on her back, her pale, slender legs open wide in obscene invitation.

Between those inviting white thighs I see the smooth, athletic, ebony-skinned body of a man. His back is towards me, his face hidden, his buttocks clenching and unclenching rhythmically as his strong thighs drive his long, thick, black cock rhythmically and relentlessly into my wife’s vagina to the accompaniment of the bed’s creaking springs.

Squeak-Squeak! Squeak-Squeak! Squeak-Squeak! Squeak-Squeak!

Her familiar female voice sighs with increasing pleasure. Judy’s hands are on the man’s back, their paleness contrasting sharply with the darkness of his skin. Her fingers spread wide, her nails are digging into the flesh of his long smooth waist and hips pulling him desperately, deeper into her body with every powerful stroke.

Squeak-Squeak! Squeak-Squeak! Squeak-Squeak! Squeak-Squeak!

I watch, frozen to the spot as, unaware of my presence, my wife surrenders herself completely to her lover. It is not the first time the pair have mated; the relaxed ease with which their two bodies have tuned into each other speaks of physical familiarity and deep sexual compatibility.

Squeak-Squeak! Squeak-Squeak! Squeak-Squeak! Squeak-Squeak!

The man is in no hurry; his pace is measured, his strokes deep, his concentration intense; focussed on the pure physical pleasure of their copulation. Beneath his powerful dark frame, my wife’s eyes are open wide; her head rolling from side to side in the grip of pure ecstasy, her red hair half-concealing her pretty face, her mouth gaping as she writhes and moans, impaled on the man’s invading cock.

Squeak-Squeak! Squeak-Squeak! Squeak-Squeak! Squeak-Squeak!

He senses her climax approaching; his pace quickens to bring her to orgasm yet again. I move in closer, still unnoticed, my eyes fixed on the two lovers; at the point where their pulsating bodies have become one.

Judy’s entrance is stretched tightly around the man’s long, thick shaft, the mighty pole of muscle glistening with her vaginal juices as it plunges into her over and over again. At the base of his shaft a white ring has formed where those most feral of female secretions have been churned to foam by the force of repeated penetration.


The sound of my wife’s voice as she cums rattles round my ears; my nose and chest fill with the unmistakeable, pungent aroma of the woman I love in full, unconstrained orgasm.

At no time in our eight years of marriage has my sweet wife; the mother of our two children come anywhere close to this level of sexual pleasure before.

Squeak-Squeak-Squeak-Squeak! Squeak-Squeak-Squeak-Squeak!

“Oh my God YESSSS!”

As Judy thrashes beneath him, the man’s thrusts grow faster and less controlled and his buttocks clench harder and more frequently. Her hands grab wildly at his hips again then grasp the rumpled sheet beneath her bottom, bunching it in her fists as another massive wave of orgasm washes over her, making her entire body shake.

“Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!”

My wife’s orgasming body is beyond her control now, completely compliant and obscenely open as her sweating, grunting lover approaches his own climax.

“Mmmm! Mmmm! Mmmm! Mmmm!”

There can be no doubt what is about to take place but I can do nothing but watch silently as my wife is taken completely and willingly. The man’s strokes become faster and erratic; I see his rhythm break completely, his powerful ebony body going into full spasm as before my eyes a mighty male orgasm strikes and strikes hard.


This man’s large, round, black-skinned head rises until his dark eyes stare unfocussed at the ceiling. His face screws up in an agonising blend of pain, pleasure and triumph as he claims the ultimate prize and begins to ejaculate deep in my wife’s eager vagina.


Judy cries out in ecstasy as the insemination of her unresisting, completely unprotected, sweet, pale, body begins. Her legs rise and wrap themselves around her lover’s thighs, her arms fly to his strong, thick neck and shoulders pulling him onto her as she binds herself tightly to her impregnator, their mouths pressed together, tongues entwined, her pale, slender, feminine body merging completely with her lover’s muscular frame in a tangle of black and white limbs.

Mine no longer, she is his as completely as a woman can be.

I try to shut out the terrible images but it’s futile.

With my eyes open all they see is my wife desperately craving her lover’s seed, I see her body open wide for him, her deepest, most feminine places entirely unprotected by pill or by plastic. I see him taking her willingly, easily, completely before my watching eyes.

I can’t bear it any longer. I close my eyes tightly but there is no escape. Waiting inside my head are vivid images of the creamy, sperm-filled torrent that is even now cascading from the smooth rounded head of his cock and into my wife’s eager, pink passage. I see sperm in their millions, frantically swimming within her body, wriggling their desperate way towards the pink doughnut of her cervix, plunging through the hole in its centre and into the dark chamber beyond.

I see them spreading through her womb, seeking the tubes through which my wife’s egg must pass. I see them thronging, fighting, struggling to be the one that succeeds. I see the single egg, huge and intimidating as it moves towards the writhing mass. I see them attacking it, trying to force their way through its outer skin. I see them striking from all sides, over and over again.

Then in horrible slow motion I see one strong sperm force itself through a crack in the egg’s surface and into its core. I see its head breaking through and its tail detaching. The egg glows with the energy of creation as the first seconds of new life begin; its surface goes smooth, denying entrance to remaining would-be invaders.

It rolls into the warmth of my wife’s womb, settles against its meaty wall and sticks.

It has happened. My sweet wife Judy has just been made pregnant by another man.

I open my eyes. Time has stopped. There is no movement on the bed.

Judy’s lover is lying frozen between her spread thighs. Only she and I are aware. Still clinging to the man whose child she now carries, her legs still around his thighs, her arms around his neck. Their mouths part and she looks over his shoulder towards me, her cuckolded husband.

Our eyes meet and lock onto each other. A warm smile of contentment and satisfaction crosses her pretty face. She knows what has happened deep within her and is happy. Her mouth opens. Her lover’s erect cock still within her, her womb filling with his seed, their bodies still united as one, she speaks my name.


I’m still frozen, staring impotently at my pretty wife’s freshly-fucked, newly-impregnated body.

“Are you all right Sammy?”

Judy’s mouth is open but the voice I hear seems to come from somewhere else; somewhere alongside me. I’m confused. There on the bed, still entwined around her lover and the father of her newly created baby is the woman I love so much. I turn towards where the voice seems to be coming from.

“Sam! Are you all right?”

I blink. My wife’s face is only inches from mine but it’s different from the face on the bed; it’s the same face but older; a more familiar face; a concerned face.

Puzzled, I look back towards the bed but the two lovers have gone; the bed has gone too. The room is moving.

“Sammy! Sammy! You’re having a nightmare again.”

This time when I open my eyes I am in the bedroom I have shared with my wife for so many years, I am in the bed in which we sleep together every night. Judy is beside me. My heart is thumping in my chest. I am sweating; panting and my cock is painfully hard.

Gradually, reality returns and the terrible events in my dream and the emotions they induced begin to subside.

My lovely wife is right; I have had a nightmare; another nightmare.

Judy knows I have a lot of nightmares; she knows when they started; she knows how they upset me. She knows how best to deal with me when they happen. She knows how to wake me gently, how to calm me; how to settle me back to sleep. She knows better than to try and talk them through unless I tell her I need to.

But that has never happened and never will.

What my sweet wife does not know is that I do not have lot of nightmares; I have the same two nightmares over and over again. For nearly thirty years the same two terrible scenes have tormented my waking and sleeping hours.

Tonight’s nightmare was the worst though the other is little better. Its setting might vary, the details might change but the characters and the outcome are always the same.

When the nightmare temporarily ends, my wife is carrying another man’s child.


‘Suspicion torments my heart. Suspicion keeps us apart. Suspicion – why torture me?’

Even the radio torments me. Four hours later when the alarm rang out, switching on our local station and waking Judy and me for our normal day, those words of Elvis Presley filled the room and ran around my head, bringing back memories of my broken, nightmare-filled night.

Alongside me Judy, my wife of thirty-eight years, the mother of our two grown-up daughters and the woman I loved more than any other in the world lay dozing. Her sweet, pretty face, framed by her red hair lay eyes-closed on the white cotton of the pillow.

It was hard to imagine this lovely woman taking centre stage in the dream that had broken yet another night’s sleep but that was how the last thirty years of my life had been tormented. For nearly thirty years I have desperately wanted to know the truth; perhaps to put my misery to rest but have been too afraid to ask.

Suspicion is a terrible thing. Suspicion combined with cowardice is far worse. A single conversation with my wife all those years ago might have freed me from decade of distress, mistrust and anxiety but, perhaps fearing the truth, I had never summoned up the courage to make that conversation happen.

The price of that cowardice was high; I had lived the last thirty years believing that on at least two occasions the love of my life had cheated on me. I strongly suspected she had become pregnant by her lover too but could not be sure of either of these things.

Whether the pregnancy had terminated of its own accord or she had brought it to an artificial end scarcely mattered. Though our marriage had been long and happy, the fact remained that I could not be certain Judy had been faithful to me and now it was far too late to find out.

I had few worries that that our two daughters were mine; the incident that sparked my doubt had taken place long after they were born but the idea that a third child – a stranger’s child might have been conceived within her soft, feminine body was almost too much for me to bear.

Although weeks or even months could pass without the question forcing itself into my troubled mind, in the end it always returned. Now I knew the suspicion would never set me free; it had tormented me for thirty years and would probably torment me the rest of my life.


The oldest of three boys and three girls, I grew up in a blue-collar home. My mom was a stay-at-home taking care of all six of us until around 1975 when I graduated from high school, and at the tender age of eighteen moved out on my own.

Believing myself to be so grown-up, I got myself trained at the local University and was credentialed as a paramedic; one of the first two hundred to achieve the brand-new licensure in the state of Pennsylvania. After that I worked for a private ambulance company, the only EMS provider at that time.

Life was busy but fun. I was making my bay in the world. I had a job, I had a uniform, I had status. All I needed was a girl to provide the more basic, physical aspects of life.

Marie was to be that girl. The same height as me and about one hundred and thirty pounds, she had a really cute face, a nice body, was flirtatious and always happy with a glass in her hand. In most respects she was the opposite of Judy in almost every way.

She was somewhat spoiled too, always wanting this or that. At the time this was fine with me because I was getting what I wanted most from her; what any young man would want; her pussy and her mouth.

Marie was happy to provide it too, especially her mouth.

My God! Marie’s mouth! She was the only woman I have ever been with who could make me climax in her mouth from oral sex alone. Other women had tried over the years but she was the only girl that ever succeeded.

Boy could that girl suck cock! She loved it and she just loved the taste of sperm.

Marie really knew what sex was about, too. I was quite swept off my feet by her. A year later I proposed and to my delight she accepted and we were engaged to be married.

But there was to be no happy ending.

Cutting a long and painful story short, her sex drive proved to be too strong and despite being my fiancée she still carried on having sex with other men. It wasn’t just the one man either. I suppose she was a bit of a groupie at heart; loving hockey with a passion that she simply could not resist the two IHL players who came her way.

I should have seen it coming; she had a big heart as well as open thighs. She had never denied me anything I wanted from her, so why would she deny them?

When I found out I was enraged and three months later we broke up. I was badly hurt; I had trusted her and she had betrayed that trust.

Perhaps my suspicion and insecurity began there.

In an attempt to forget some of the pain, I buried myself deeply in my work. Around that same time, women were beginning to qualify as paramedics too. I ended up working with a few female paramedics; a couple were even my partners on the long twenty-four hour shifts so as a young man I got to see a lot of panty-clad bottoms during the night.

Some of them resulted in illicit fucks as well. But all this changed in 1978 when I first met the cute, redhead girl that was to become my wife.

Judy was a student nurse; she had just finished her first year and was working in the emergency room as a clerk. I was on the second shift from two o’clock in the afternoon until eleven.

I will never forget the first time I set eyes on her. Pale-skinned, freckled and with very curly red hair, Judy was and still is strikingly attractive, both in appearance and in her sweet personality. As cute a girl as I could imagine, she made a very deep impression on me straight away; something just clicked inside and I desperately wanted to know more about her. Getting her to agree to a date took a lot of work and a little assistance from her colleagues but to my delight and astonishment, in a remarkably short time she had reluctantly agreed to give me a try.

As she didn’t know me very well, our first ever date was with other couples that I worked alongside. The plan was to go to the movies, but first we were going to stop off and have a beer. Nothing unusual there, but unknown to me, Judy didn’t drink. At first I thought she didn’t quite trust me and was making sure she could keep in control of the evening but she explained that, thanks to her mother’s religious background, she had never tasted alcohol.

It took some time for her to relax but eventually she did drink an inch or two of beer while I downed two of my own before we were all off to watch the movie.

The date was a success, at least successful enough for there to be a second, then a third.

Then we were officially dating. I was a very happy man.

The child of divorced parents, Judy had grown up with her mother in a very conservative household, attending church regularly, but thanks to her parents’ circumstances, moving home regularly too. Brought up simply, she was delightfully open and refreshingly naïve, trusting and believing what those around her said.

With every week that passed I fell for her deeper and deeper but it wasn’t until later that Fall when she moved out of the nursing dorm that our relationship took the biggest step forward of all.

Judy and a girlfriend had moved into a house that was owned by some people from her mom’s church. Compared with the chaos of the dorm it was wonderful to have some privacy. In the dorm, everyone knows who’s having sex with whom, where and when – and there was a lot of sex being had all around us, believe me!

Judy’s conservative background made her far too shy and anxious to go much further with me when a ready audience was present so I was relieved, delighted and very excited that magical evening when she first asked me to stay the night with her in her new house.

Despite being considerably more experienced, I was nervous as a teenager. Judy was wearing a bib-style overall in brown corduroy with a white T-shirt underneath. I remember the two of us in her room, me snapping the shoulder studs and pulling the front flap down to expose her breasts.

I caressed them, too small and firm to need a bra, and with hardening nipples.

There were a couple of snaps in the hip area too; I quickly unfastened them then pushed the entire bottom half of her overalls down until it fell to the floor around her ankles.

Judy stepped nervously out of her fallen clothes, her hands on my shoulders, looking me anxiously in the eye.

It was going to happen!

A moment later I had stripped down to my underwear and we were lying side-by-side on the bed, kissing and touching each other intimately. As her arousal grew stronger, her nerves began to calm. I remember her hips writhing against my searching fingers, I remember the dampness of her panties as I fingered her through the thin cloth.

After a long time touching each other, I rose on my knees and laid a long line of kisses across her soft tummy, all the way down to her panty line. She gasped and her body went tense. Giving her no time for second thoughts, I quickly covered her pussy with my mouth. The potent musky scent made my head spin and my cock harden in my underwear.

I half expected her to react and push my head away but she didn’t. Instead, Judy reached into the leg of my shorts, grabbed my tightening balls and began to massage them as my mouth went to work on her panty-covered pussy.

From the shock that pulsed through her body it must have been one of the very first times she had ever felt a man’s mouth between her thighs. But however baffled her mind might have been, her body was responding with powerful feelings of pleasure, lubricating for all it was worth, the heady aroma filling my mouth and mind.

A few minutes later she was lifting her bottom up off the mattress and I was sliding her soaking wet panties down over her smooth, pale buttocks, along her slender white thighs and for the first time in our relationship, revealing the prize hidden within.

As long as I live, I will never forget the first time I exposed my wife’s pussy, quite unlike any I had ever seen before. Just clasping my eyes on the coarse, thick, fiery red triangle of fur was almost enough to make me cum on the spot. Full and untrimmed, its curvy strands glistened with the juices of her arousal and the scent of that young girl in heat was enough to make my head spin.

I spread her legs with my hands and began to explore the wetness of her orange-red vulva. Judy was oozing juices; far more than I had experienced with women in the past. Inspired by the smell and taste, it did not take long for my tongue to find her clitoris…

I took it into my mouth, holding it gently between my teeth, rubbing the tip of my tongue over its swollen tip.

Judy’s orgasm came hard and fast, her body writhing, her soft legs clamping on the sides of my head as her pussy wept into my mouth. She came again but it was still not enough. Abandoning her clit I rose over her, seeing her nervousness but determined that tonight would be the night.

My heart thumped as I pushed her knees up towards her breasts and lined my cock up against the opening of her pussy. There was a moment’s pause then with a huge surge of excitement, I entered Judy’s body for the first time.

Boy, she was tight! Though not a virgin, her vagina gripped my cock like a vice. Even with her extraordinary wetness I had to work my modest-sized cock back-and-forth, sawing my way into her body until finally I was fully inside her.

Though no stranger to pussy, as I bottomed out inside her for the first time, I knew I was lost. The feelings that surged through my body as Judy’s inexperienced vagina closed tightly around my painfully-erect cock were like nothing I had known before.

And as my wiry pubic hair ground against her fire-covered mound and my swollen head pressed hard against the entrance to her womb, I knew this was different; that this was special. Being inside her felt like magic; perfection; as if we had been made for each other.

Then we were fucking like there was no tomorrow. Exploring each other’s bodies with a vengeance, making love for what seemed like hours, my cock penetrated her soft, pale body many times before I could hold it no longer and finally reached a full, messy climax inside her.

“Are you okay?” I asked anxiously when it was all over and we were lying in each other’s arms.

Judy thought for a moment before replying.

“I loved it,” she eventually said.

“I came inside you,” I mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be!” she smiled, kissing me on the lips. “That was the best part. I loved it when you came inside me. I loved feeling your sperm spurting against my cervix.”

“Well I loved putting it there,” I smiled, the most contented man in the state.

I hadn’t noticed that Judy had not come anywhere near orgasm and at that time had no idea that, on my cock alone, she never would.


So our relationship progressed and progressed happily as did our sex life. I was only the third lover in Judy’s life. Though she didn’t like to talk about it, over time I discovered that she had lost her virginity at the age of seventeen – relatively early for our generation – to an older, divorced man whose children she used to babysit. It had been consensual if reluctantly so but as a result her hymen had been broken long before she and I got together.

Many times I wished it could have been me claiming that most precious prize.

Since then her sex life had been limited to a handful of penetrations by her only other lover; a man more her age who, reading between the lines, saw her more as a means of getting himself laid than a potential partner in a relationship.

I suppose that makes me her first and only proper boyfriend. With that responsibility, I did my best to enlighten her about the world of men and I have to say she was a good student, if rather conservative in her appetites.

We moved in together and were married two years after that.

Married life was good. At first, our sex life was pretty good too, making love four or five times a week. If our first sex together was a life-changing experience, I can tell you that making love to a woman who has just publicly given herself to you, body and soul is on a different plane.

Admittedly most of that sex was missionary but with the occasional doggy-style as a treat. Less often Judy would take my cock in her mouth but would never let me cum there.

In contrast, most times we made love I would go down on her, with, I have to say, some pleasing results. On those occasions she became very excited and very wet, her vulva rich with a musky scent that even today can make my nostrils flare and bring an immediate erection to my trousers.

Judy’s climaxes have been few and on the rare occasions she does reach orgasm, she tends to go silent rather than passionate and loud. Although over the years she has reached climax on my eager mouth and tongue but she is most likely to cum when I use my hands to stimulate her directly. Though rare, for me these moments are precious. I love the scent of her when she cums and adore the smell of my fingers afterwards – a smell that can linger for hours as a souvenir.

I’m embarrassed to admit that in thirty-eight years she has never reached orgasm on my cock.

Sadly her bottom has always been out of bounds in every way; no touching, no licking and I was not allowed even to think about anal sex.

“It’s an exit only,” she would scold if I ever came too close.

But despite this apparent lack of interest, Judy could be relied on to perform her duties as a wife and we made love most weeks, occasionally twice as our life together moved on.

We bought our first house and did our own remodelling, making it ours. A real homemaker, Judy put in some great touches to make it look cute. But of course life isn’t all roses and like most couples we also had some rocky times.

When angry, Judy can have a temper as fiery as her hair. We fought many times, never physically but we did yell and scream things that we both regretted in the following days. A few times I even threatened to leave but however painful it felt at the time, I suppose it was all part of learning to live with each other.

Work was going well for both of us too. I had been promoted to Supervisor and Judy was working in a specialty nursing area. This was unheard of at the time and shows just how rapidly she was progressing. Recent graduates usually needed four or five years’ experience before they were allowed to be doing the things she was now doing on a daily basis.

Our income thus increased, we bought our second home. This one needed no fixing-up and had a nice inground swimming pool, three bedrooms, a full basement, a two-stall garage and a beautiful landscaped yard.

I could hardly believe it was really ours.

By then, the ambulance company I worked for had been purchased by the hospitals in the community, of which was one that Judy worked at. The hospital terminated the employment of the previous owner and to my delight, put me in charge of all EMS operations for the county.

Now I no longer had to work regular twenty-four-hour shifts, moving to a more bearable Monday to Friday, eight till five o’clock. Judy on the other hand was working the second shift from three in the afternoon till eleven at night. Sometimes she would get home as late as two in the morning if things in the ER were especially busy and she had to finish up. This wasn’t a recipe for a good life together but most couples have to struggle in their early days.

Then life changed forever. I remember the moment clearly.

I was lying on the floor in the living room one night when Judy walked in, she had a strange look on her face that worried me.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, anxiously sitting up and turning towards her.

“What makes you think something’s wrong?” she replied enigmatically.

“You look different,” I said. “You look worried. Is something wrong?”

“That depends on you.”

”What do you mean?”

“I mean it depends how you feel about becoming a Dad.”

That was a truly amazing night! Judy persuaded one of the Lab Techs at the hospital to draw blood and a short while later confirmed that she was indeed pregnant. I was astounded; I had had no idea that she even suspected she might be pregnant. Judy told me she had suspected for a while but didn’t want to tell me until she was certain.

A Dad! I was on cloud nine.


From then on, family and work life became hectic. Our daughter was born, followed not many years later by a sister. We both progressed at work too, my own career consolidating and Judy being promoted to Department Manager in the Operating Room in which she worked; quite an achievement at her age.

Unfortunately this required her to continue working shifts.

As a former shift-worker myself, I knew how the unsocial hours tended to make close-knit teams out of those who were obliged to work them. Normal friendships and family life outside work were difficult if not impossible to maintain so relationships more intense than normal often develop between work colleagues.

These intense working relationships often spilled over into physical relationships too. Some even taking place during working hours. My former life as a paramedic had shown this clearly - indeed in the past I had taken part in a good number of such transient, opportunistic encounters.

And Judy went to work in this kind of environment every day. My life of suspicion was just beginning.

I have no evidence that Judy succumbed to temptation during that period of our marriage but the opportunities for her to do so would have been many. Not infrequently the ER team would have to stay late or even overnight because of an unexpected trauma. Other times there might simply be a high volume of patients that needed to be cared for.

Often after those long afternoon shifts the group would go out for drinks together. Judy herself avoided alcohol but as part of a close-knit team, would always go along for appetizers and a soda, and to hang out with her workmates. It wasn’t unusual for her to get home around two o’clock in the morning by which time I and the kids would be asleep.

Every so often we would lie in bed, and like with most couples the subject of our previous lovers would come up. At least I would try and learn more about Judy’s past. Knowing which other men had known the same amazing feeling of her soft tight pussy around their cocks and what went on after hours was a major turn-on for me.

Around that time I used to buy Penthouse Forum Magazine, too. My favourite stories were always the ones in which married women had sex with men who were not their husbands. To be honest, at first I found the idea of cheating a little repulsive but the more I read, the more the demon inside me got to work, wearing away at my resistance, making me more and more aroused until watching my wife with another man became a the most important focus of my fantasies.

Sometimes I would even pluck up the courage to talk to Judy about it, asking if she had ever imagined sleeping with someone else. She always said no but there was something about the way she answered that suggested otherwise.

When I asked if she would fuck another man if I told her it was okay, she always said she would never dream of it but despite her insistence, I still had my doubts.

Meanwhile Judy realised just how much the idea used to turn me on, making me fuck her really hard when we had been talking about it. For a while she even started actually using the words fuck, cock and pussy, especially when she knew I was getting close to coming.

Feeling her lips close to my ear and hearing her say those dirty things would always push me over the edge.

But that was unusual. Working the hours we both did was not an ideal way to live a marriage – still less to keep an active sex life going. Our lovemaking became unexciting and increasingly infrequent.

It was particularly difficult when children were involved but we loved each other, our careers demanded it and the level of trust between us then was high.

But all that began to change too when the Devil arrived in the shape of Doctor Brandon Johnson; BJ for short.

At over six feet tall, BJ had a good five inches on me and had a fit, powerful build to match. In his previous job he had been a teacher, then had trained as a physician and got himself board-certified in emergency medicine.

But what was most striking was that he also had the darkest complexion I had ever seen until then; jet-black skin and a large, handsome face with deep, dark eyes that felt like they were looking straight into your soul.

He had an attractive, magnetic, larger-than-life personality too that most of the nurses found irresistible. Rumour had it that the contents of his shorts were larger-than-life too and that the combination had helped him ease his way into the panties of a great many of those star-struck nurses.

Rumour also had it that he refused to use any form of birth control. That soon led to the standing joke that if a nurse ever left the hospital or went away on placement for a few months, she was said to be ‘having a black baby’.

Worryingly he lived only a few miles from us in an impressive house that faced a very large lake and sat about sixty feet above the shoreline.

Even I, a straight married male could feel the power of his attraction.

The problem started when BJ joined the ER team in which Judy worked. His schedule meant he was on duty for most of the shifts that she was also scheduled to work. As a result they spent long and often unsocial hours in each other’s company and not surprisingly developed one of the close working relationships I had feared.

On many occasions this would spill into the team’s after-hours socialising so they were spending time together outside work too.

My suspicions moved up a notch.

Once again, I have no hard evidence that anything happened between BJ and my wife at that time; I’m not even sure they were ever left alone after one of those shifts when the group went out.

But if he was true to his well-deserved reputation, there is a very strong probability that he at least tried to add Judy to his increasingly long list of conquests.

And he was seldom known to fail.

But these worries were minor compared with the incident responsible for the first of my recurring nightmares.

I remember the day well. Judy was around seven months pregnant at the time, her belly swollen with our unborn daughter. Like many pregnant women, her hormones had gone a little haywire; the positive side of this was her beautiful clear skin, bright eyes and glossy sheen to her curly red hair but there was a price to pay in terms of temper.

I wasn’t as good at handling this and had a bit of a temper myself. The result was that Judy and I got into one of the biggest, but silliest arguments of our marriage. It started in the morning and deteriorated quickly to the point where at ten o’clock, Judy stormed out of the house, got in her car, slammed the door and drove off.

I confidently expected her to come running home at any moment but she didn’t. Lunchtime passed with no sign of her either. The afternoon passed too.

In the days before cell phones I had no way of contacting her so just had to stay home and wait, worrying, wondering what on earth she could be doing for so long.

It was over eight hours later at half past six in the evening before she eventually returned, and I heard the familiar sounds of my wife entering the house. I was in the bathtub, totally naked when Judy walked in, her head lowered and her hands on her rounded belly.

“I’m sorry,” I said straight away. “I hate it when we fight.”

“I’m sorry too,” she replied.

My relief was enormous, made even stronger when she then added that now she had had time to think things over she could see how stupid the argument really was.

“Maybe it’s my hormones getting out of balance,” she suggested with a sheepish smile.

“Where did you go?” I asked.

“Down to the big lake.”

“What did you do there?”

“I sat in the car for nearly an hour,” she replied.

“But you’ve been gone all day,” I challenged her.

“I was thinking.”

There was something about her tone of voice that made me think twice.

“Were you all alone?” I asked suspiciously.

Judy’s body language changed; she looked very uncomfortable indeed.

“Um. Doctor Johnson drove past. I recognised his Porsche.”


“I think he recognised me through the window because he turned round and came back to see what was wrong.”

This was making me feel even more uneasy.

“What did you say to him?” I asked.

“This and that,” she replied awkwardly. “We talked for about a half an hour.”

“Then he left you alone for the rest of the day?”

Judy looked very uncomfortable.

“He invited me to his home for a cold drink.”

“And you went?”

Judy nodded; an awkward movement that unsettled me even more.

“And you stayed the whole day?”

She nodded again.

“Just talking?”

She looked away from me for a moment.

“That’s a long time to be talking, Coke or no Coke!” I frowned.

When she looked back the expression on her face was hard to read but it was all the explanation I was ever to receive about that day.

Worrying though this unexplained incident unquestionably was, the most worrying of all was still to come...




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