Becoming a Slut Wife: Sarah

[Author's Note: Thanks to Just Plain Bob for giving me his permission to add a chapter to his story, "Becoming a Slut Wife: Sarah". This conclusion follows immediately from the Epilog at the end of his Chapter 6. Please read or re-read Just Plain Bob's story before you read this. If you hate my chapter, please blame me and not Bob.]

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As Tim rubbed her back with lotion, Sarah sat and worked on the puzzle. After a few minutes she put it down and said, "Baby? Why did you ask me if I'd ever been unfaithful?"

"I was just wondering if you'd tell me the truth, after all these years. I didn't think you would, so I'm not surprised—I was just curious."

Sarah suddenly felt cold. "What do you mean? Of course I told you the truth."

Tim sat back down on his chaise and smiled at her. "Let's just say your version was a bit . . . incomplete, Sarah, don't you think? I didn't hear you mention the name of Brian Tyler, my old boss."

Sarah could feel her face turning red, but she tried to stay as calm as possible. Tim was looking at her steadily, but with a smile on his face. He didn't appear angry, certainly not enraged.

"Honey, I don't really understand what you're talking about. I remember Brian, of course, but ..."

"Sarah." Tim took her hand. "I've known about you and Brian for years. Since right after that business trip I took. You remember when I had to go away for two weeks in a row?"

"Lover, I . . . don't know what you're talking about." Sarah felt the fear welling up inside her. She tried to sit quietly.

"Oh, you don't?" Tim was still calm, but he'd stopped smiling. "Maybe I can remind you. Room 312 at the Hampton House? Tuesday afternoons? And then there were the two weeks in our bed, while I was away?"

Sarah just stared at him. She didn't dare move, didn't dare say a word.

"Oh, and of course all those Christmas parties when you thought I was so drunk. Well, some years I was—but sometimes I was just making it easier for you to have your fun."

Sarah realized she'd been holding her breath—she was about to faint.

Tim squeezed her hand gently. "Breathe, honey," he said. "After 20 years I'm not angry anymore. I'm certainly not going to do anything to hurt you. You're still the lovely girl I married, and I want to grow old with you."

Sarah realized she was starting to cry. "I . . . didn't know you knew anything! I never wanted to hurt you, baby!"

He nodded. "I know that. It took me a while to figure it out, but I did. Brian helped me a lot, actually."

The look on her face, of total shock and incomprehension, actually made him laugh.

"He had a whole speech, Sarah—about women and curiosity. About how some women just need to experience acting like sluts, experimenting with different men. He told me he'd said the same thing to you, actually."

Sarah shook her head, trying to clear the mass of confusion in her brain. She'd gone from shock and fear through relief and bafflement all in a few seconds, and was finding it hard to think.

"Tim . . . I'm so sorry, baby! God, you must hate me!" Before she knew it she was sobbing. Tim moved to her chair, cradling her gently in his arms.

"It's all right, Sarah," he said, over and over, letting her cry until she finally began to calm down.

When she sat back and looked at him her face was a mess, with streams of tears running through the suntan lotion on her cheeks. He went to the pool, dipped a corner of his towel to get it wet, and then returned and mopped her face.

"Tim, I . . . I don't know what to say. I am so sorry."

"I've forgiven you, baby. A long time ago. I found my own way of dealing with it."

"What!?" she cried. "You mean you . . . cheated too?"

"Yes, baby. Quite a bit."

Her heart felt frozen in her chest. She had loved him with all her being, with every inch of herself, and he'd cheated on her?

"You . . . bastard! You lying, cheating son-of-a-bitch!" She leaped to her feet, grabbed her bag and headed for their room.

When Tim entered five minutes later he found Sarah lying face-down on the bed, sobbing into a pillow. She felt his weight on the bed as he sat beside her, and then his hand gently stroking his back.

"It's alright, baby", he said in a soothing tone. But she lifted her head and angrily cried, "just go away!"

After a moment he stood up from the bed, and after that she heard the door open and close quietly. She cried even harder.

They were sitting poolside at the resort's outdoor restaurant, watching the sunset as they waited for their dinners to be served. Sarah was calmer; she'd had a good cry, taken a long shower, brushed out her hair, put on one of her most becoming dresses and made herself up carefully.

Both she and Tim had avoided anything besides small talk while they had a drink and ordered their meals. Now she took a deep breath.

"Tim, how did you find out about . . . me and Brian? I did everything I could to be careful. The one thing I was so scared of was losing you!"

He smiled at her. "At first I just had suspicions. I couldn't believe it, though. I knew you loved me, and I though our sex life was great.

"But there were a bunch of clues. And then, Brian told me."

"What?!" she gasped.

Tim smiled at her. "I guess I need to explain that, don't I?"

"It began at one Christmas party, when you were as sexy and as teasing as you've ever been. I watched you torture every man in the room, including me.

"When we got home the sex was crazy—you'd never been so wet, and I was completely wild. But the next morning, when I was sober again, I started to think about how funny you tasted when I ate you. As hard as it was to believe, I was pretty sure I was tasting cum, and I knew it wasn't mine.

"So I thought about the evening, and then I remembered you went to the bathroom a couple of times and were gone rather a long time. All that was enough to make me wonder.

"Then on Monday, Brian couldn't look me in the eye. I'd been working for him almost three years, and he'd never been so uneasy around me. I began to put two and two together, but it was just so impossible! I was pretty sure I'd been satisfying you in bed—you sure had been satisfying me.

"Anyway, on Tuesday at lunch time nobody could find Brian, though he usually left word of where he would be. And the next Tuesday it happened again. That second time, I called to see if you were free for lunch, and nobody in your office could find you either. And when I asked you that night what you did for lunch that day, you told me you'd just had a sandwich right at your desk.

"I'll tell you, Sarah, I was pretty upset! But I didn't know anything for sure. All I knew was that every Tuesday Brian was nowhere to be found, and no one knew where you were either. I checked up on you for each of the next four Tuesdays, and no one could find either of you. Then you'd come home at dinner time, freshly showered and tasting of toothpaste! And all this time, Brian was still acting strange around me.

"The worst for me were all those phone calls when I was out of town on that two-week trip. You'd never been all that interested in phone sex, and then night after night you were groaning and gasping and grunting away, telling me you were playing with yourself. I didn't believe you, but I didn't have a way to find out the truth.

"That is, until I came back from San Diego. I marched right into Brian's office my first day back and said, 'Brian, I'm thinking of leaving the company—and I'll be taking Sullivan's account with me.'

"Well, that account is worth nearly $4 million a year, and there's no way Brian could afford to let it go. He looked shocked—he asked me why I wanted to leave, and what it would take to keep me.

"I told him I wanted a 20% raise, and that he had to tell me how long he'd been fucking you."

Sarah nearly choked on her drink. "You SAID that to him?"

"Yup. I bluffed him—I told him I'd caught you and you'd confessed to me. I said that if he didn't tell me everything you two had been doing, from beginning to end, I was walking out with Sullivan's business.

"So he caved. He told me all of it: what he did at the Christmas party, the Tuesdays, bringing Dave into it, and the two weeks of him spending the night in our house, in our bed, fucking the hell out of you."

Tim grimaced, and Sarah cringed. "Even now, Sarah, I've got to tell you—that part hurts a lot. In OUR house, with my boss, while I'm out trying to make a living for us . . . ."

"I am SO sorry, baby," she said quietly.

He sighed, looking thoughtful, and then went on.

"I pretty much went crazy. Brian was terrified; he begged me to go out for a long walk and calm down. He swore to me it wasn't as bad as I thought, and that he'd explain it all to me after I cooled off for a couple of hours.

"When I came back he told me how much you loved me, how every move you made was calculated so that I would never find out and be hurt. And he talked to me about slut women—because he'd known a couple before you—and the way they just needed a few cocks to experiment with. Then, while I was still trying to take that all in, and wondering how I could possibly stay married to you, he told me about Anna.

"Anna was another slut he'd 'discovered'—she worked in another part of the office, and he'd been banging her for about six months, though it had slowed down almost to nothing. He said she was just like you: happily in a relationship with a boyfriend, but driven by lust and curiosity to experience other men. He said I should give her a call."

Tim paused, and Sarah asked, "so did you?"

"Yes, that very afternoon. I called her up to my office, politely offered her a seat, locked the door, and said, 'Anna, I want you to suck my cock.' She was on her knees in front of me in five seconds.

"She gave me the best blowjob I'd ever had from anyone besides you," he smiled, "and then I fucked her three times: on the desk, on the floor, and over a chair from behind.

"I was so angry and hurt, and it just turned into lust. I thought, 'if Sarah can fuck around, so can I!' And it felt good, Sarah. By the time I was done with Anna—and she made it clear she'd be ready for a repeat any time—I was calmer.

"The next day Brian and I had a long talk. He pointed out that I had three choices: divorce you, confront you and make you stop, or let you go on fucking him and Dave. I knew I still loved you—angry as I was, I couldn't imagine life without you, baby—so option one was out.

"Brian and I agreed that confronting you and making you stop was dangerous. You'd be incredibly guilty and sorry, and you'd stop—but would you be able to stop completely? What about the next time an attractive possibility for a quick hot fuck raised its head? I'd spend the rest of my life worrying about you, and what you might get into. Above all, who you might hook up with who could really hurt you or take advantage of you.

"Brian pointed out that it was only him and Dave doing you—I knew both of them well enough to know they'd never hurt you in any way. That seemed better than the alternative. I hoped that you would get it out of your system without other, perhaps more dangerous men getting into the picture. Plus, it would allow me to do my own slutting around, with Anna and whoever else turned up."

He stopped for a minute, and Sarah stared at him. She was truly at a loss.

"But then, what about the week you followed me? If you knew everything that was going on, why snoop around?"

"Simple. You weren't just doing Brian and Dave any more—Dave was having you do his clients as well. Part of my deal with Brian was that he had to tell me absolutely everything about what you were up to, while pretending to you that he'd never said a word to me about it. In fact, it was my idea for you and Brian to resume your Tuesdays together. I wanted to know what was going on, and Brian was my source.

"But those gangbangs with clients worried me—who knows what that might have led to? So I decided to scare you a little. I took the week off to follow you, and I had Brian warn you about it. Then I made sure that my rental car could be clearly seen from your office.

"I thought you'd start being real careful, and restrict your extracurricular activities to inside your office. And that's just what you did. I didn't anticipate that you'd cut Brian off, though—he was very disappointed, and I just laughed at him!"

Sarah continued to look at her smiling husband, feeling confused and afraid. "Baby, I just don't understand how you could have lived with this—how you didn't come home and throw my ass out on the sidewalk!"

"Believe me, Sarah, I thought about it. But I loved you, so much. And I kept thinking about how loving and affectionate you were, how great our own sex life was, how very happy you made me. You clearly weren't fucking around to hurt or humiliate me—quite the opposite, you were trying hard to make sure I never knew.

"After a few days I was able to accept that Brian was right: you were going through a slut phase, and my best hope of keeping our marriage together was to let you do it."

They were silent for a while as they finished their coffee, and Sarah said, "can we get out of here, Tim? I feel like I have years of making things up to you to do, and I'd like to get started.

They were lying in bed, the sheets rumpled around them and the bedspread on the floor. Tim was on his back, with Sarah tucked against him, idly playing with his limp cock.

"Sorry, baby, there's just no more life in that boy—you've fucked it all right out of him. I thought he was done for tonight after the third time, but you proved me wrong."

Sarah sat up and kissed him hard. "How long did you keep whoring around with Anna?"

"For a couple of years—but only on and off. As you know, you were taking it out of me pretty good at home, and since I wasn't traveling any more I didn't get too many opportunities to rest up! She and I would do it in my office every couple of weeks. Then after a while she finally married her boyfriend, and they moved away."

"Were there others, baby?"

He kissed her. "Yes there were, from time to time. I was very happy with what we had, Sarah—I still am. But the occasional opportunity came up, and since I suspected that your arrangement with Dave was continuing, plus the Christmas parties with Brian, I saw no reason not to take advantage."

"Nothing serious, I hope?" Sarah looked concerned, and Tim pulled her to him gently for another kiss.

"Never. It was just fucking, just for fun, like you and Brian and Dave. You are the only woman I've loved, if you don't count Becky Armstrong in the first grade."

She smiled, starting to feel sleepy, and snuggled up against him. "How many were there, baby?"

"I'm not sure I remember, to tell the truth. I counted up a few years ago, just for the hell of it, and I came up with sixteen."

"SIXTEEN?!!"