A Little Variation

I'd like to thank Randi for her editorial help with my story. Any subsequent mistakes are mine alone. I'd also like to thank Literotica for hosting this event. This is a work of fiction, artistic licence has been employed, so any relationship with UK/EU laws is not guaranteed 100%.

"A little variation". At least, that's what she told me. It would be nothing more than a little variation in our love life, she said. Nothing to worry about, nobody would be hurt, nothing would have to change. Or so she said.

Besides, she would make it up to me, she assured me.

I demurred, but she was insistent. And she got her way, eventually.

Oh, sorry! I'm getting ahead of myself. Please allow me to introduce us to you. My wife is (or was, it does get a little complicated in the telling, but please bear with me) Mary and my name is Timothy Beattie.

We had been married for six years, both fairly attractive, both in our early 30s, no children, not by choice, just one of those things, and we lived a very good life.

Mary worked as the PA for a polymath genius (at least, that's how he liked to self-describe) who was a qualified Medical Doctor and something of an International medical supplies business tycoon. His name was Ellery Hoylake, and he was married but, according to Mary, He had a very sick wife named Chloe whom he apparently doted on, but who had been ill since the early days of their marriage.

I operated a range of websites and made an exceptionally good living from the adverts that were on the sites.

Mary began telling me tales of how woeful his life was. Wife is very poorly, wife can't do very much, wife rarely goes out, wife is obese, wife and he do not have sex, etc.

Wait! What? Why the hell was she telling me all this stuff?

Eventually, after several weeks of going round the mulberry bush, Mary put her cards on the table. She wanted to sleep with Ellery and would I be okay with that?

She explained that it would be a great kindness on my part to allow her to sleep with him, because the poor dear darling man had not had much sex in two decades because his wife Chloe was disabled and obese.

"How is that our problem?" I asked her.

"He seems to have opened up to me and I know that he fancies me and I feel that it would be great if I could offer to help him out a little, by sleeping with him."

She must have seen the look on my face because she quickly added: "Oh! No! Don't think that it would be a permanent thing! That's the last thing he or I would want!"

I nodded, but I couldn't believe the shit she was spouting.

I asked her what was wrong with him hiring paid escorts? It was as if I'd suggested telling him to put his dick in a mangle. "Oh, no, Tim! That would never do. If it should come out that Dr Hoylake was associating with any old Tom, just think of the bad publicity! Far better if I, his Personal Assistant, helps out there, I think."

I supposed she must have gotten the expression 'Tom' from a detective show on the TV, because nobody we knew would refer to a prostitute as a Tom.

Over the next several months she badgered me relentlessly, in turns she was the ice queen, or alternatively a raging nympho who couldn't get enough of my loving. As if!

Eventually I weakened and asked her how she would handle the arrangements. I know, I should have been stronger, tougher, but I loved her and I'd been worn down after months of her constant badgering.

"Well," she replied, thoughtfully, "we would have to make sure it was very discreet, that nobody else got to know of it, at either my workplace or any of our friends or people in our social circle. I think Ellery and I should take a week's break in a nice country hotel."

"What does his wife think of this?"

"Well, she obviously isn't happy with the idea, but as she never puts out for him, she can't really be too shocked by the arrangements."

"So, you and lover boy are going to leave her all by herself, sick, alone and brooding? Fuck, Mary! That's damn callous! That can't be right!"

Then Mary had one of those "lightbulb" moments. "Hey! I just had a great idea. Why don't you spend the week over at her house? That way she wouldn't be lonely and all by herself."

I tried to point out how wrong that idea was, but once inserted inside Mary's cavernous skull, nothing short of dynamite would shift an idea.

And so it was, seven days later, I was packed to spend a week with a fat disabled woman, and my wife was packed and made up to the nines for her week long assignation. Funny, I never recalled her making that much of an effort when we went out on dates.

I tried to kiss her on the lips as she stood in the hallway, admiring herself in the mirror, but she pulled away, giving me an empty air kiss, instead. "Sorry, darling! Don't want to spoil my lipstick or my make up!"

That actually hurt me.

I let out a breath and said: "Please, let's not do this. Stay here, phone Ellery, tell him you can't come."

"I can't do that, Tim. Just give me this one fling, share me just this once and then it'll be out of my system and we can carry on as before. As I promised, I'll make it up to you."

I nodded. "Okay, I'll hold you to that promise. But you do realise that if you go through with this, our marriage will never be the same again?"

"It'll be fine," she said. "Trust me! I'll call you in seven days' time and let you know what time I'll be back home on that day. But let's not keep in touch during the week. That'd be too weird."

She walked out to her car, put in her luggage, a huge amount for only one week, I'd thought, and she drove off to her assignation with only a brief wave to me, her husband.

I put my smaller bag into my car, checked our Nest doorbell system on my smartphone, set the alarms on the house and locked it up. I'd already keyed the address into the satnav, so I quickly found my destination, which was only a 10-minute drive away.

As I stood on the doorstep of their house I asked myself why the hell I was putting myself through this, spending a week with the obese disabled wife of the man who would soon be fucking my wife. The only answer I could come up with was: "misery loves company."

I rang the doorbell, and what happened next was incredible. The woman who opened the door was fairly obese, but she also had the prettiest face of any woman I had ever seen. Including Mary.

"You must be Tim. Come in, I've been expecting you. Cat got your tongue?" she said with a grin.

As the door closed behind me I replied "Sorry! I was miles away. I was momentarily staggered by your beauty."

She looked dubious, but I hurried on "I always wondered if any woman could be like Helen of Troy and truly possess a face that could launch a thousand ships and burn the topless towers of Ilium.

"And now, now I know your face could do just that!"

She blushed and giggled: "Oooh, Christopher Marlowe on a first date! That, I like.

"Though this isn't going to be a date, really, is it?" Her voice was low and melodious.

"What do you think of your wife being with my horrible husband for a week?"

"Not much, to be honest, but she badgered me and badgered me over a period of months until I caved in. What really hurt me this morning was she wouldn't even kiss me, in case it spoilt her damned lipstick and her make up."

Chloe playfully puckered her lips and said: "You can kiss me, instead!"

I leaned toward her, steadied myself against the wall behind her and kissed her on the lips.

It was just as if someone had hit me across the back of the neck with a wet sandbag. I saw from the widening of her eyes that a similar effect had been felt by Chloe.

Without being asked, I kissed her again.

I gently took her face in my hands and began probing her mouth with my tongue as she responded with alacrity.

After what felt like an hour, but was no more than a minute or two in reality, we broke our kiss.

Chloe took my hand and said: "I think we'd better take this upstairs."

I followed her and I realised that although she had a fairly shapeless dress on, perhaps to hide her body, that she possessed a large but absolutely stunning arse.

She stopped for a second on the stairs and my rampant cock poked her bottom. She squealed with laughter and said: "What the heck is that?"

I suddenly remembered some more of the poem about Helen of Troy and quoted it to her, with suitable amendments:

"Sweet Chloe, make me immortal with a kiss. Her lips suck forth my soul; see where it flies! — Come, Chloe, come, give me my soul again. Here will I dwell, for Heaven is in these lips."

I could see from her neck that she was blushing.

"I was going to take you into the spare room, but you can sleep with me in my and Ellery's bed!"

We walked into the room and she swiftly pulled off her dress. I was stunned, to be honest. Yes, she was somewhat obese, but suddenly I realised that I wanted her very, very badly.

My cock was so hard that it felt painful in the confines of my trousers.

"You can't get me pregnant, I have inoperable fibroids."

I murmured my regret at this and I moved toward her, smelling a delicious intoxicating perfume. I said: "What's that I can smell?"

A look of worry crossed her face. "Oh! I'm sorry! That's my body odour. It repulses Ellery."

I shook my head. "Then Ellery is a prize knob! You smell absolutely gorgeous! It's driving me wild with lust!"

She giggled as she stripped off her underwear whilst I hurriedly divested myself of my clothing.

I realised that she had an absolutely enormous pair of pendulous breasts and I knew I wanted to watch them swing as we made love. I climbed on the bed and laid down on my back.

She quickly realised what I wanted and she clambered on top of me. She took hold of my cock and aimed it at her vagina, sliding it over my cock, totally sheathing it in her hot silky moistness.

I was in utter bliss. She began to ride my cock, sliding up and down, it was tight and like a hot moist velvet sheath gripping me.

Her tits were bouncing all over the place, mesmerising me with their gyrations. She frowned. "I'm sorry about my tits getting in the way, they are far too big. Ellery wants me to have them reduced in size, to make them more 'normal' as he puts it."

I paused in my thrusts, I gently took her breasts in my hands in turn, kissing the nipples. "Please don't ever let that prize idiot damage your boobs! They are so absolutely gorgeous, you mustn't let him have them reduced in size."

She grinned down at me; "Are you a boob man, Tim?"

I nodded. "Well, I wasn't ever what you'd have called a boob man. I mean, yeah, like most chaps I do love boobies, but until I saw your breasts just now, I never knew how much I did love breasts. Unless it's the fact that they are your breasts that make them so special?"

She laughed: "Oh, boy! You are so full of compliments! Ellery never is, but bugger Ellery! No thinking of our stupid spouses; let's be here for us in our moment."

She recommenced sliding up and down on my cock and after what felt like a glorious eternity, my orgasm overwhelmed me and I lifted her from the bed with the strength of my orgasm it was so powerful.

At that moment, she shut her eyes and made a series of cute little grunts, signifying her own orgasm.

She started to get off me, but I gently held her arms and said: "My erection isn't going away. Please, let me continue to love you?"

She settled back down and we continued to make love until I spent myself again. We cuddled each other and we fell asleep snuggled together.

When I awoke, I saw that Chloe was watching me, with a faint smile on lips. "Had a good nap?" she asked me.

"I certainly did. Would you like me to make love with you, again?"

She nodded her head. "Yes, please. This is the most sex I have had in, well, since I don't know when."

This time we did it missionary position. She said something that made me very sad. "Are you sure you want to face me? When we used to do it, Ellery always took me from behind."

"I prefer being able to look at your face and gaze into your lovely brown eyes, Chloe. When I told you how beautiful you are, I meant it. Mind you, you do have a sexy bottom, too" I added.

She relaxed and smiled and we commenced making love. This time she came with such a force that she squirted as she again grunted prettily and her eyes rolled into her head.

She burst into tears. "I'm so sorry! What must you think of me? I just wet myself! Ellery got so furious with me when that happened."

I kissed her nose. "You didn't just wet yourself, you had a very powerful orgasm, a totally different matter. And if Ellery doesn't know the difference between a woman having an orgasm and a woman wetting herself, well, he can't be much of a Doctor. Or a husband."

She stopped crying and we got up and showered. By then it was 3PM and we were both hungry, so she whipped up a very tasty scratch meal for us.

We watched some TV and chatted until bedtime and after another vigorous round of fucking (we put bath towels on the damp patches) we went to sleep in each other's arms. We'd make the bed in the morning, which is what we did.

The next morning over coffee and Danish pastries, we sat in the lounge and discovered that we had a mutual guilty pleasure. We were both huge fans of the Jeremy Kyle Show.

That morning's episode was the usual fayre of cheaters and thieves busted with lie detectors and DNA results throwing up evidence of affairs, ancient and modern.

They were mainly screaming, shrieking lowlifes who came from sink council estates in South Wales, London, Merseyside, Oxford, Nottingham, Bristol, Glasgow and the West Midlands. Chloe and I loved every raucous minute as Jeremy Kyle, his two muscular security guards (headed by Security Steve) and his consultant psychotherapist, Graham Stanier, who was in charge of the aftercare team, tried to make sense of the mayhem that was a typical episode of the Jeremy Kyle Show.

This episode was a bit different, as they had a drug addict who seemed to be genuinely contrite and willing to take the assistance of a drug rehabilitation centre under the watchful eye of the programme's resident medical expert, Dr. Arun Ghosh.

We discussed the programme and laughed at how our spouses hated our love for it. We decided that yes, in general, they were both a bit anally retentive over it.

As well as being a week of sex and Jeremy Kyle, it was a week of discoveries of what arseholes our spouses really were.

For example, when I showed Chloe my websites (I took a few minutes each day to update them using their Wi-Fi), she was fascinated by them. "I didn't realise how complicated it would be, especially seeing as how Mary told Ellery that it was just a hobby of yours bringing in some beer money."

"Oh, she did, did she? She earns £40k as Ellery's Personal Assistant. My websites bring in, on average, more than twice that amount. So she was talking out of her behind!"

"And I dare say what you knew about me had gone from my fuckwit, I mean darling husband, to you via your dearest wife?"

I chuckled. "Yeah, something like that."

On the morning of the last day of our week together, she seemed down. "What am I going to do when he comes back, later today? What are you going to do when your wife comes back?"

"I don't know, exactly, but there's one thing I do know, despite whatever they might think or say, I'm not going to give you up. Damn it, they opened both our marriages up, so whatever goes down is their responsibility! Their fault!"

She nodded and said: "I'm glad you said that. It's the way I feel, too."

We were sat at the table in the kitchen and she was looking more and more pensive, until finally, she spoke. "Please, don't be angry with me, but I want you to do something for me. When I suggested it to Ellery, once, he said he was shocked and horrified and he slapped my face and called me a little whore and threatened to throw me out."

"Please remember Chloe, I'm not like him."

"OK... When I was a young girl at University someone got hold of a porn video. The one scene I remember vividly was of girl who presented a bowl of breakfast cereals to a man who ejaculated all over the cereals and then he made her eat the entire bowl of cereals, but especially his spunk.

"Please, I want you to do that for me!"

I was shocked, to be frank. But only shocked, mind you, not horrified. As evidenced by the fact that her super kinky idea had given me a massive hardon.

She said: "I have shocked you. I shouldn't have mentioned it. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise. You surprised me, but if that's your kink, I'm all up for helping you get the cream you want on your breakfast cereals. What about doing it now?"

She grinned, got herself a small bowl of Cheerios and added some milk.

She looked at me, expectantly.

I took my cock out and got her to lick the tip a couple of times before I commenced masturbating until I was able to ejaculate all over her cereals.

I slowly fed the bowlful to her, making sure that she took every bit of my load, as she had requested. I found it an incredibly erotic experience.

Eventually, when the bowl was empty, I gave her an open-mouthed kiss and faintly tasted my own spunk, plus the Cherios. Well, there was a first time for everything. Probably the last time, too, but...

"Oooh, kinky!" she said as I disengaged.

"No, I just thought one good turn deserved another," I replied, with a grin.

"Please, cuddle me! I need to be held!" I sat her on my lap as best I could and we cuddled for several minutes as she trembled, until she calmed down. I think her being able to play out in real life a fantasy she had harboured all of her adult life was quite a cathartic experience for her.

We then took our coffees into the lounge and watched the Jeremy Kyle Show. We then watched the Good Morning show, even though we both thought Holly Willoughby a bit irritating and we were both creeped out (unfairly, I know) by Philip Schofield, the other presenter, but there was something on the show in which we were both interested. I forget what, now.

Not long after the show ended, my mobile phone rang. It was Mary. Shit. I put it on speaker phone, and used the record hot-key.

"Hello, Timothy."

Hello Timothy? Not even my late mother had ever called me Timothy. Well, hardly ever.

"Hello, Mary."

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, Mary, I'm fine. And you?"

"I'm well, thank you."

"What time will you be arriving at the house, today?"

She hesitated and, as they say, he or she who hesitates is lost. "Well, I won't actually be coming back to the house today. Ellery has just managed to get a special deal on a holiday villa in the Azores and he has it booked for six weeks."

I felt a cold, unpleasant feeling in the pit of my stomach. "The Azores? The Azores where we were going to book a holiday later in the year? Those Azores? Did you talk about our holiday plans with Ellery, by any chance?

"Yes, I think I did. And yes, those Azores. But it's okay, you and I can still holiday in The Azores later on in the year."

"Actually, no, Mary. The idea of the holidaymakers' equivalent of holiday sloppy seconds really doesn't appeal to me."

"Timothy! That's a horrible thing to say."

"It's how I feel. Presumably you're already on your way to the airport?"

"Yes, we're almost there. We stopped at a Motorway service station for a quick break."

"How long have you planned this holiday?"

"As I said, it was a spur of the moment thing. Ellery had a chance to book it and that's what he did."

"No chance of you coming back now and meeting me at the house?"

"Sorry, no. That's not possible. We'll talk when I get back."

"Yeah, sure we will."

"Oh, Tim! Don't be like that!"

"Like what? Anyway, what's Ellery got planned for Chloe? Is she supposed to wait alone for six weeks for him to come back? Especially seeing as he told you how badly disabled she was?"