The events of this story really started after we'd been married for only two years. We'd dated for two years before actually tying the knot, although I'd been 200 miles away at college for a large part of that time. Looking back, I was cringingly naïve at the outset. I genuinely believed that we were so suited to each other, and so in love, that we would never have a serious falling out.
Gayle was two years younger than me with a body that never failed to stir me --small pert breasts, with nipples that became rubbery firm when aroused, cold, or sucked between my lips; a beautifully trim, shapely arse, athletic legs and a neat pussy that I'd happily lick for hours. Topped off with blue green eyes and dark silky hair, I was very happy.
I thought we were fairly adventurous, although with hindsight I realise it was probably no more than most young couples would cover exploring. We had sex outside a few times, took photographs, read and watched some porn together, tried dressing up (Gayle, not me!) and used sex toys. She wasn't keen on sucking my cock, and certainly would not let me cum in her mouth.
I enjoyed everything, but gradually things petered out. I now realise that she wasn't getting as much out of sex as I was, and she quickly tired of each thing we tried. With dispassionate hindsight (again), this included sex with me generally. Her keenness on her vibrators should have been a big enough clue. We almost never had sex without her augmenting it with one toy or another. Stupidly, as I was pleased I'd found something she liked, I bought her a wide variety and encouraged their use rather than trying to improve our lovemaking together. It was years later that she told me that I'd never got her to orgasm without using buzzing plastic. I'd thought she'd cum almost every time -- usually more than once. I didn't have a clue.
Sex was becoming a non event at the same time as Gayle went back to college to gain some job skills. Sex was basically a solo event. Gayle clearly enjoyed college and in the evening would chat about her day and the people she'd become acquainted with. The increased cheeriness she conveyed did not make things any better between us and any semblance of a sex life came quickly to an end. She was becoming less and less satisfied with her home life, and with me, and this coincided with increasingly frequent references to someone called Dave at college.
Over an incredibly short period our relationship turned cold and distant, until one morning when we were lying in bed with an expanse of no-man's-land between us, Gayle spoke without any preamble.
"What would you say if I said I wanted to sleep with Dave?"
I froze, I didn't move, blink, or even breath. I was filled with terror and felt physically sick. It was as if I'd been told I had a terminal illness, with only days or weeks left to live. My marriage, the life that I had built, my security were falling into a chasm.
Yet at the same time my cock was instantly hard! I was academically intelligent. I had a degree and professional qualifications. I was practical. People came to me for advice and support when they were in trouble or needed help. But at the same time I'd always been overruled by my dick, even when I could see the sheer folly of it. My sex drive always trumped sanity, even if it was perversity against something as precious as my marriage.
I lay still, other than the stiffening of my cock, of which she was unaware, I made no response. I didn't know what response to make, although my mind was in turmoil.
"Well? Aren't you going to say something?"
I didn't reply, but with nerves trembling, knowing I could never undo what I was about to do, I slid my hand across the sheet. I took her hand and brought it back, and placed it on my rock solid cock.
She left her hand there for a long 5 seconds.
"Why?"
What answer could I give? I didn't know myself.
"I don't know. It just makes me horny". Fuck I was pathetic!
"You wanker!" She said it conversationally, with resignation, then she swung her legs out of bed, pulled on some clothes and went downstairs and left the house. Oh Christ, what had I done?! But she was right. Even as I wondered if my marriage was over, with all that entailed, I took my cock in my hand and beat off -- twice!
* * * * * * *
It was late afternoon when she came home. Crazily, artificially we did not speak This was really adult! I broke first.
"Where did you go?"
"Out!" I'd expected belligerence, but it still hit me in the gut. I couldn't help but ask:
"To see him?"
"Yes." Two questions, two one word answers. I was like a boxer that kept leading with his chin.
"Did you sleep with him?"
