Why was he so excited? The idea flashed through his mind that he was aroused by being in bed with a stranger, a different woman, just as beautiful as his wife Emily but bolder, sexier, willing to break the rules. He remembered again how they had fucked the previous afternoon, before he found out about what she had done with Bob. Clearly the time with that other man had pleased and excited her, so that she was ready to ride his cock frantically when he came through the door.
Then he thought: maybe she would have ridden anyone’s cock, she was so hot, so ready.
By now he was fully erect and couldn’t help stroking his member a couple of times. He pulled the sheet down, off of Emily and then pulled her nightie up, exposing her hairless pussy. What beautiful, taut thighs! It was hard not to think, too, about the big, strange cock that had pushed its way past those lips, deep into her. Had they used a condom, at least?
Phil leaned forward and kissed Emily’s labia. He knew that this would wake her up, but he couldn’t help himself. When his lips met hers, her body quivered, but she didn’t say anything. With his fingers, he parted the outer lips and ran the tip of his tongue up one side and down the other, exploring the folds that the stranger’s cock had rubbed and stimulated. As he did this, she became moister. After circling around inside for a while, he kissed her clitoris, which was beginning to rise. He sucked it between his lips and squeezed slightly. Meanwhile, he had reached back to hold his stiffening rod.
Emily now opened her eyes and looked down at what he was doing.
“My God, Phil, this isn’t like you, first thing in the morning! What’s got into you?”
He stopped sucking and looked her in the face. His expression told everything. He was glaring at her with anger and lust.
“The question is, who got into you? But you don’t have to answer. I know. His name is Bob!”
She didn’t even look surprised. “So, what are you going to do about it?”
“I’m going to fuck you like the whore you are!”
He pushed her legs further apart, and drove the purple head of his cock right between her lips.
Emily’s clit was now engorged. She closed her eyes and lay back into the pillow. Her mouth opened slightly and her breathing was faster.
“Is this the way he did it? With him on top? Or did you ride him?”
“We did everything,” she answered. “But the second time it was doggy style. That was the best.”
The second time? Phil was so angry he was trembling. The veins in his neck were swollen and it was an effort for him to spit out his words.
“You whore! You want to be fucked from behind, you’ll get it!”
He pulled out, grabbed Emily by the hips, and flipped her over as if she were simply a rag doll. Then he tugged her hips upwards so that she was on her knees and he drilled his cock between her swollen dark red lips.
Emily was ecstatic. Phil’s usual style was lackadaisical, with minimal energy. Now he was not making love. He was fucking. She loved the results and she let him know it.
“Yeah, fuck me! Finally you got the idea! This is what I need! Fuck me like your whore. Fuck me like everybody’s whore!”
The encouragement worked. He was beyond excited. This wasn’t his wife Emily he was screwing, it was someone else, someone new—a dirty, nasty slut who had kept herself hidden for these three years they’d been together.
Emily had reached her right hand back to push her hand into her crotch so that she could rub her clit. For several minutes there were only the sound of panting, the slapping sound of Phil’s thighs and balls bouncing off of Emily’s cheeks, and the squishy noises of his cock sliding in an out.
Several times Phil felt the convulsive waves of Emily’s orgasms as her body stiffened up and then relaxed again. Finally, with a huge groan, he shot several spurts of cum into her vagina.
Then he collapsed on the bed next to her and closed his eyes.
They panted for a few moments. Then Phil said, “Did you at least use condoms?”
Emily laughed. “Of course not. This wasn’t planned. Next time I’ll be prepared.”
He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, then he sprang up on his elbow and looked at her with horror.
“The next time! The next FUCKING time? What are you talking about?”
“Look, honey, don’t get all excited. Nothing’s set up yet. I’m just saying that I should be prepared, that’s all. It could happen again. Besides, you lost nothing at all. I even changed the sheets, as I guess you noticed. What you got is air conditioning and a couple of really hot fucks.”
It was quiet for a while. Phil digested what she said. He wasn’t expecting this. He thought she might cry and beg for his forgiveness. He didn’t know what to say.
“But that was prostitution! You can’t deny that. You provided sex for money, for $400, to be precise.”
“It wasn’t in cash. It was barter. It’s no different from being married, you know. Women provide sex and men bring home their paycheck, right? That’s the tradition.”
She continued, “Besides, I’m subsidizing your public-interest career. If you had a corporate law job, we’d have plenty of money for air conditioning, fancy new cars, and all those things. So Bob and I helped you out. Please note that you slept in the cool air that he provided, thanks to my bargaining.”
Phil was nonplussed. He just lay there for a while, pondering the situation. Meanwhile, since it was Saturday morning and they were for once in no hurry, Emily decided she wanted more.
“Call me a whore again! That was fun. It was the first time ever—not even Bob called me a whore.”
The sheets were pulled down, and Emily could see that what she said had had an effect. Her husband’s wet half-deflated member perked up.
“You know what Bob said? He told me that his ex-wife used to work in a sex shop, and on her breaks, when she didn’t have to stay at the cash register, she would go back to the booths and go into an empty one next to one that was being used and make her mouth available for blow jobs. So she had a lot of practice and was really good at it. But he said that I was even better!”
Now Phil’s cock was almost fully erect, but the expression on his face looked like one of sheer pain.
“Don’t look so miserable, baby! Just let me work my magic.”
Emily bent over Phil and took his rigid penis in both hands. It was already well lubed with her juices and his own cum, so she stroked up and down several times, then gave each of his balls a few little licks with the tip of her tongue.
“You and Bob are about the same size, but his cock stands out more because he’s shaved away all his pubic hair. It’s funny that until yesterday I didn’t have much basis for comparison.”
A little tear fell sideways and down from the corner of Phil’s left eye, then another.
Now Emily was circling his purple cockhead with her tongue. Phil’s abdomen tightened and his pelvis thrust his cock upwards, then let it fall back down. He could hear little licking noises, but his eyes were closed. In his head he pictured Emily doing this to Bob’s hair-free erection and the emotional pain mingled bizarrely with the intense physical pleasure. Phil began to think he was going insane.
Emily paused and lay down on Phil’s left.
“Come on, baby. Roll over and slide it in from behind. I don’t have to get on my knees for you to do that. You can just lie behind me.”
Phil really wanted to fuck her. His mouth was dry and he felt as if there were an electric current running through his body, somehow converging on his prick. He rolled over and stuck his erection into her pussy. Emily groaned with pleasure.
“Mmmm! Nice!”
She took his right hand in hers and moved it down into her crotch. With her fingers, she took his middle ones, and rubbed their tips in circles against her clit.
“Mmmm…perfect. Now just say ‘whore’ again and again!”
Phil had no difficulty saying that. He said it again and again and again—“God, what a filthy cheating whore you are! What a whore!”--, but it became more and more muffled as his tears flowed freely. He came, suddenly, with a sob.
Later, after they dozed off for a while, he got up and made coffee and put out the muffins from Kaminer’s Bakery on the table. Emily came out to the kitchen, rosy and clean from her shower, with her wet brown locks all tousled. She looked so innocent and wholesome!
At this point it seemed to Phil that there was nothing more to say for now. Every accusation and objection and even insult just rolled off of Emily or, perversely, excited her.
“You know, the thunderstorms cooled things off enough so that we could enjoy the outdoors. Let’s head to Laurel Creek. I’ve heard it’s nice.”
So after breakfast Emily packed a picnic lunch and they headed to the nature preserve. Loading the lunch in the car would have been easier if they could have pulled Phil’s car up to the kitchen door, but the driveway was a disaster. Not only was it impassable, but it channeled rainwater right into their basement, which was an unusable fungusy hole.
During the afternoon, Phil found himself thinking that he had just had a really, really vivid bad dream. Emily was sweet to him, snuggled up to him, kissed him on the neck, rubbed against him like a kitten. She couldn’t possibly have had sex with a stranger the day before, just to get the AC fixed.
But the idea haunted him. And he realized that Emily hadn’t done it just for the AC. She had done it for the sex. For the cock—and for the tongue in her mouth and the fingers probing her private parts. Private? Could he still call them “private parts”?
They stopped and bought some hamburger meat and some hot dogs and some summer salads so that they could make a quick meal when they got home. Phil even found a couple of bottles of really cheap read wine in Trader Joe’s.
Feeling frisky when they got home, Emily changed while Phil grilled. She put on a pair of opaque black leggings with no panties underneath and just pulled on a sleeveless t-shirt, one just like the one that had such a fabulous impact on Bob. She jiggled her way out to Phil on the deck and handed him a glass of wine.
He was looking her over just the way Bob had the day before. Men! They are so simple in some ways! So interchangeable!
Just then, the doorbell rang.
“I’ll see who it is,” said Emily. “Maybe those Jehovah’s Witnesses came back. No one else would show up at this hour.”
As he flipped the burgers, Phil heard a loud male voice at the door and Emily’s laughter. The screen door banged.
“Phil, guess who’s here! It’s Bob! The hero who saved our AC!”
A large bald man in Bermuda shorts and flip-flops came out onto the deck. The muscle shirt showed off both tattoos and very buff arms.
“Hey! You’re the lucky guy! You’ve got the hottest wife in Georgia, man, and that’s no bullshit!”
Before Phil could think of what else to do, he was shaking hands with Bob, who was holding a large brown paper bag under his left arm.