Chapter Three - Playing Away
It is said that money can't buy happiness but before that statement is accepted you need to define and decide what makes you happy. After a lifetime of just scraping by and making do with second-best I have just come into a small fortune (for me, that is) and now, by definition, I'm very happy because Helen and me can now properly indulge in doing the things which we both adore.
You see, pure and simple, I am a willing Cuckold and my Wife Helen knows just how much I revel in the humiliations she piles upon me when she cheats by breaking the most sacred of the vows we took when we wed, aka the seventh commandment, 'thou shalt not commit adultery.' However, since our wedding day some 25 years ago our commitment to religion has faded somewhat and, anyway, it's not really cheating because she does it with my full knowledge and encouragement. Indeed, we have over the past year or so developed 'rules' that set the scenes for her to imaginatively express her infidelity and now I have money the rules and the scenarios can be expanded to accommodate our wildest fantasies.
My new fortune came by virtue of a win on the National Lottery. Prior to my win Helen had some rigid ideas about managing our money and the household budget and she had no idea that I indulged in the expense of a weekly ticket. However, her negative attitude to such extravagances was soon forgotten when I shared with her the news that I was a winner. Indeed, the turnaround in her thinking was almost comical when I further revealed it was a major win and that very night she straightaway pretended she was a high-class hooker and rewarded me with a 'mercy fuck' when we got to bed. (I only just about put my little dick in her before I was spurting like a fountain inside the warm cavern of her cunt. Worth every penny, I thought!)
Once the change in our fortunes had properly sunk in our first extravagance was to visit a travel agency and arrange the flights for a vacation in Barbados that we had long dreamed of taking; a fantasy that had been triggered following the first time we had hosted Caribbean men in our home and their invitation when they left for Helen to carry on enjoying herself by spending time in their homeland. (I have related this in a previous chapter so will not repeat the circumstances here).
My wife, as a first step, contacted Dale (her favourite 'student/lodger') through e-Mail to arrange our accommodation. I was copied in on the correspondence and was able to see that she grudgingly confessed to him that I would be coming too but, bless her, she made no mention of our new-found riches or that the side-lining of me in her making these arrangements was all part of our 'game'; another new rule that added to my feelings of humiliation and inadequacy. As I read the messages my cock twitched in anticipation of what all this was leading to.
The travel agent was very good and quickly found flights to match our plans along with freely offered advice as to the best airline to choose; timings; transit to and from the airports involved, etc. The final piece of advice was to ensure that we were seated on the left side of the cabin so that after the long trans-Atlantic flight the magical sight of the island could be fully appreciated as we prepared to land. Helen gave me no choice when she said that she would have the window seat.
This was a whole new world for the pair of us for we had never before travelled long-haul. We settled into our seats - a row of three - and with Helen in her window seat I found myself sandwiched between her and a large black fellow who it turned out was returning home after an extended stay in UK. Once airborne we were quickly climbing out over the sea and with nothing to look at other than the cloud layer below Helen began a conversation with our companion. Initially they talked across me but then after a few minutes Helen told me to change places with him so that she didn't have to, "strain her neck," she said by explanation. I duly complied and thereafter was ignored and excluded from their chatter as she began her familiar routine of flirting laced with suggestive remarks and innuendo. I was almost too embarrassed to listen.
Drinks were served quickly followed by a meal and once the 'debris' had been cleared away the cabin lights were dimmed and we settled down to spend a few hours of taking in the in-flight entertainment. I found a movie to watch but Helen declared that she wasn't interested in looking at anything but, rather, would take a nap. Her new-found friend said this was good advice and the pair of them reclined their seats and snuggled down under the provided blankets. As they got comfortable they both somehow contrived to face each other and as they both closed their eyes I saw movement and as they shuffled around their blankets became overlapped. I was not fooled by the obvious charade that they were actually sleeping for from my viewpoint I could see movement under the covers and it soon became apparent to me that Helen must be massaging him as I watched the rhythmic rise and fall of the thin blanket in the area of his groin. I initially feigned interest in the movie but increasingly transferred most of my attention to looking from the corner of my eye as my wicked wife was obviously masturbating her companion under the cover of the blankets. I listened as his breathing became more laboured as time passed by and with my movie long ignored I watched spellbound as he suddenly stiffened in his seat and the bulging blanket above her hand became suffused with a wet darkness that could have only have resulted from his ejaculation as he climaxed. He sank back in his seat with a sigh and Helen leaned closer to him to give him a soft peck of a kiss on his cheek. She opened her eyes to look at me with a satisfied expression on her smiling face. I could only shake my head in disbelief that she could be so brazen, so soon into our adventure.
It was a few moments later that she sat up in her seat and announced to nobody in particular, "I need the toilet". Her companion (we never did learn his name) stirred and the pair of them raised their seats back to the upright position and with a little confusion they untangled themselves from the blankets and smoothed their clothing. Without an 'excuse me' I was pushed aside as they both clambered past me into the aisle. Helen then tossed me the sodden sticky blanket saying in a theatrical manner to her new friend, "Looks like 'somebody' spilt their drink. You can have Gordon's when we come back."
My humiliation at being once again be treated by Helen in this off-hand manner was compounded by the suspicion that the visit to the toilet was nothing to do with needing a Pee but rather her needing relief of another kind. So it proved as I watched them make their way toward the toilets by the galley. She pushed open the door and stepped inside and without any hesitation her dreadlocked friend slipped into the cubicle behind her. I glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed but seemingly everyone was either engrossed in their little seat-back screens or were asleep. I decided to follow their path and in seconds I was outside the door feigning nonchalance as I leaned against the dividing wall.
So began the charade of my own as in sight of one of the cabin crew busying herself in the galley I tried to give an impression that I was queuing and waiting to use the toilet myself. I hoped she didn't notice that I had my hand inside my pocket and was trying to restrain my erect cock that was tenting the front of my trousers.
