Hi. My name is Sam. I'm married to Sarah whom I assume you have read about in her story, "A Weekend Away," and in the earlier series titled "Forbidden." A Weekend Away should be treated as a part of the Forbidden series as this posting should be, this being the fourth posting in the series of stories involving Sam and Sarah.
Since Sarah has seen fit to tell you her side of the story I thought it only fitting for me to tell you my side of the story. I'm not going to tell you everything from the prior postings but suffice it to say, I'm deeply in love with Sarah as she is with me, but neither of us have been able to avoid engaging in extra marital sex with someone we found attractive, her with my best friend and roommate from college, Liam and me with my tennis mixed doubles partner Kelly. Neither of us has fessed up to our sins, but as you will see in this story each of us had reasons to suspect the other of misconduct.
It was the socks in the bed clothes that gave things away to me. As you know from the Forbidden series I was away on business in Chicago when Liam dropped by to visit. I had expected Liam but I had not expected to be detained in Chicago for another day. When I called to tell Sarah I would be delayed she told me that she had spoken briefly to Liam and that he had to leave town early.
I would later learn that was a lie. Liam was actually at our home when Sarah and I talked and she was already half naked after listening to Liam tell her how beautiful her breasts were. Once they knew I wasn't coming home that day they spent the afternoon and evening screwing in virtually every room in the house and in virtually every position imaginable.
So how did I learn this? It was Liam's socks that gave it away. Liam had left the next morning and Sarah, having no intention of admitting her guilt to me, had carefully cleaned up the house, including throwing the sheets from the bed in the wash. When I returned home later that day we spent the late afternoon and all night doing exactly what she and Liam had done the night before. It was great sex. The next morning I went to work, sleepy and tired from a marvelous night of fucking my wife. When I returned at the end of the day she was fixing dinner and asked me to change the bed clothes (which we had messed up pretty badly the night before).
"No problem."
"The clean sheets are in the dryer," she told me.
When I removed the sheets from the dryer a pair of men's socks fell from them. I didn't think much of it immediately. I just made the bed and tossed the socks in my sock drawer. But during a bit of middle of the night insomnia I started thinking about the socks I had found in our bed clothes. They were argyle. I don't wear argyle socks, never have. But I knew someone who did wear them--Liam. Liam always wore argyle socks. I used to tease him, telling him they made him look like a middle aged lawyer. Sarah was sleeping soundly and I was wide awake trying to come up with an acceptable explanation as to what Liam's socks were doing in the bed clothes my wife had washed just before I got home. I even got up and used the light on my cell phone to look at the socks in my sock drawer. Yup, they were exactly the same as Liam had always worn. The obvious conclusion--Liam, who I had known even back to my college years to be a rake and a seducer, a man who could and would talk almost any woman he found attractive out of her clothes and into bed for a quick lay or more, had lost his socks while in bed with my wife. I concluded that Sarah had lied to me and that she had spent the evening fucking with my old college friend.
I said nothing to Sarah in the morning. I could have confronted her with the socks, but Sarah was clever. She didn't get a PhD and a job as an Assistant Professor of English Literature for being in the slow learner group. She would come up with some clever explanation and leave me at best uncertain and feeling guilty for having doubted her. I tucked the socks farther back in my sock drawer and went to work with the intention of confronting Liam by phone. Liam was a talented photographer and a world class seducer, but dishonesty wasn't really a part of his skill set, especially with me. Liam would tell me the truth.
And he did. I called him before I got to the office the next morning. When confronted with the evidence of his seduction he told me the whole story--how he had arrived at our home by cab to find Sarah just returning from a run; how he had offered to return to the airport when he learned I was not due back from Chicago until late evening; how Sarah had insisted he come in for a drink and then had grabbed a quick shower, returning in short shorts and a T-shirt, but braless and without panties; how he had convinced her to show him her tits which he thought very beautiful; how he had listened to her standing in our kitchen wearing nothing but a pair of loose shorts which weren't long enough to cover the bottom of her ass while she lied to me about his being present after I told her I wouldn't be home that night; and how they had then fucked each other repeatedly all over our house.
Then of course he apologized profusely. I'm sure he expected me to yell at him but I didn't really say much. Based on his description of what happened, it was unclear as to who seduced who. Should I be mad at my wife or my former close friend? Or both? Liam had a history of seducing women, but he had agreed not to pursue Sarah even when we were in college, so had she seduced him and if so, why? And Sarah was of course subject to the same wedding vows as me. Liam had not tried to throw Sarah under the bus by claiming she seduced him, but he didn't exactly assume all of the responsibility himself.
The other reason I didn't yell at Liam was that I had my own ethical problems arising from the same wedding vows. I had been screwing Kelly, my cute little mixed doubles tennis partner, every other week or so for almost a year now and lying to my wife regularly about where I was after our evening tennis matches.
So no, I didn't yell at Liam. I just told him I was very disappointed with both of them and not to do it again. Then I hung up. I didn't get much work done the rest of the day as I stewed over whether to confront Sarah or not. How would that work if she already knew about Kelly? I didn't know if she knew but I did know that there was more than a little bit of gossip about us in the ladies locker room at out tennis club. An affair is like an old fish. It only stays a secret for so long and the year that Kelly and I had been carrying on was more than long enough for the rumors to have leaked back to my wife even though she didn't hang around the tennis club.
I couldn't go home that evening and confront Sarah with what Liam had told me because had a long standing commitment for a match in our tennis club's round robin mixed doubles. Kelly would of course be my partner. The match was at eight, but I had as I usually did, told my wife it was later hour and that I would work late and then go straight to the club. I didn't have time to go home and confront my wife about her illicit activity. I had a commitment for illicit activity of my own. Since I hadn't really decided what, if anything, I was going to say, I decided to keep my tennis date with Kelly.
Kelly had told me that her husband was in town this week so it was just going to be a tennis match tonight. Given my ambiguous feelings about my affair with Kelly and my wife's apparent affair with Liam I was fine with taking a night off from Kelly. But once our doubles match got going I was unclear about what her intentions for the night were. Every time I served she took her usual position at the net, leaning forward aggressively just far enough to the side to let my serve go by while still maximizing her chance of cutting off the opponents return with a sharp volley behind the partner of the service returning opponent. It was a classic doubles strategy. But there were two aspects of her posture that had nothing to do with tennis. First, it must be remembered that Kelly had a big pair of breasts that were barely covered by the low cut top of her tennis outfit. She was giving her opponent a great view of her extensive cleavage. I took my time with the serve and she assumed her boob flashing position as early as possible, even bouncing a bit to make sure they jiggled.
If I had been concentrating on my serve her effect on at least the male half of our opponent team would have been devastating. With some doubles teams even the female half of the opponent team could be distracted, whether from lust or jealousy was unclear. The problem this evening was that I was struggling to concentrate on my serve because while she was flaunting her tits at our opponents she was wiggling her barely covered ass at me. Sure women's tennis outfits feature a short skirt but Kelly's skirt was at the extreme of the acceptable range. Okay her legs were nothing like my wife's long sexy legs, but Kelly had a very attractive little round butt. Better than Sarah's? A question open to debate, but not when Kelly was standing less than 40 feet away wiggling her butt at me. She didn't need to do that to distract our opponent with her tits. She was doing it solely for my benefit and it was working. We lost the first set 6-4, but it was a squeaker.
The second set progressed much the same as the first until we found ourselves with our opponents leading 6-5. I was serving. If we lost this game the match was over. Before my first serve Kelly stood close to me to confer on our strategy. She leaned into me pressing her big soft breasts against my rib cage. "If you can lose this set I'll make it worth your while."
"But that will cost us the match."
"I know. There are other things we can do beside batting tennis balls around." she rubbed her tits against me making her message explicit.
"I thought both our spouses were in town," I said.
"They are, but I have other plans."
"What?"
"You'll see."
Kelly turned and walked to the net and deliberately wiggled her butt at me. I watched in lust and promptly double faulted, hitting both serves into the net. No need to worry about my opponents devastating service return. Love-fifteen.
