Cyprus Affair

Note.

The dictionary defines Cuckold simply as a man whose wife has committed adultery. However, in recent years a more restricted definition has gained widespread acceptance, meaning specifically a husband who is aware of his wife's infidelity but chooses to tolerate it. This particular tale is an almost classic example of the making of a modern cuckold and is worthy of reading on that basis but those in search of only the more raunchy paragraphs might be advised to look elsewhere.

Cyprus Affair

I answered the phone to hear a woman's voice ask, "Has David Thwaites got an appointment to see you on Wednesday afternoon?"

"Who wants to know?" I stalled. The nature of my research required strict confidentiality so I preferred to conduct my interviews on a one to one basis with nobody else knowing anything about it.

"I'm his wife Beth, Beth Thwaites," she said straight away. "Dave is going to tell you how I cheated on him while on holiday and I wondered if you might like to hear my side of the story first. I spotted that he had marked your advert in a magazine and then, doing a bit of detective work, I found that he had left Wednesday afternoon clear in his appointment diary for no apparent reason - it was enough to put two and two together. Can I come and see you?"

Had I been busy I would have refused. So many of my interviews had been conducted with only the cuckolded husband that hearing from only the occasional errant wife would not produce any meaningful statistics. However, I had Tuesday completely free and I was a bit intrigued. "I can give you a couple of hours from 2 p.m. on Tuesday," I told her.

Beth Thwaites was a very long way from being unattractive with the kind of rounded figure that I really appreciated and I would have placed her a good four or five years younger than the thirty-two years she later admitted to. She was wearing a dress with the length and fit striking the exact balance between tarty and staid. I watched intently as she crossed her extremely shapely legs, but the businesslike way she did it, showed that there was no interest in striking sparks off me. This was completely understandable but it didn't do much for my morale. Feeling no need for a relaxant, I gave Beth a straight forward refreshing drink and then sat back smiling pleasantly as encouragement for her to begin the story. "I had sex with a guy in Cyprus while my husband was stuck in Germany," she said.

"I gathered the important part of that from the telephone," I told her gently. "To start I am more interested in the background detail - that is knowing about you, your husband and how you were feeling about the state of your marriage before this happened."

"We have been married for ten years and have two children, eight and six. Dave has a very good job and provides us with a high standard of living so I have no grumbles about that at all. He is also an exceptional father and I believe that he also considers himself a good husband. His job is a large part of the problem because he enjoys it too much and I am often left feeling that he thinks more of his job than he does of me. He's always travelling round the country and abroad, so on average he is away from home for at least three days every week but is always home at weekends. When Paul was born he stipulated to his employers that he would only work weekends when there was a desperate crisis and since then it has only happened three times. This means that he is able to give the kids quality time every Saturday and Sunday but between his work and the children, I tend to get left out. I also suspect that he uses work as an excuse to get out of things he doesn't want to do. For example, when I want to go somewhere that he is not keen on, something to do with his work always crops up to stop us going, no matter how long it has been arranged."

Mentally I ticked off 'resentment' - a very common factor behind infidelity. "Did this Cyprus incident happen out of the blue?" I asked. I was trying to subtly find out if there had been any previous unfaithfulness or even any leanings that way.

"Yes completely out of the blue. All my marriage I have never even considered going with another man, well not seriously," Beth confirmed, but then blushed, put a hand up to her mouth and said, "Oh God, I suppose I ought to tell you about that."

I nodded encouragingly. "It was about five years ago," Beth began. "We were friendly with a couple called Howard and Emma Forester - he was a company director, they had a very big house and were always throwing extravagant parties. Now David had a thing about Emma and was always saying how much he admired her. She has a vibrant very beautiful face and to my mind 'admire' was another way of saying that he fancied her. I didn't mind the fancying but I found it niggling to be constantly told about it. Anyway, at one of the parties David paired up with Emma as he usually did and the pair sat talking exclusively to each other but then suddenly they disappeared. I was immediately suspicious and checked all the downstairs rooms without success and that only left the bedrooms - I intended to check those as well but before I could go upstairs Howard collared me. He grabbed my arm, muttered what sounded like 'sauce for the goose' then bustled me into the library saying, 'Have I shown you my new Benedictine panelling?' I had already seen it, everybody had and he knew that - so getting me into the library showed that he knew Emma was out of the way and also indicated that he too thought she and Dave were at it somewhere upstairs."

Beth paused to light her first cigarette and then continued, "Howard had bought the panels at an auction of fittings from a stately home that was going to be demolished - they were reputed to have come originally from a monastery and said to be well over four hundred years old. He had them fitted down one wall of his study, the opposite side was bookshelves and the only other furniture in the room comprised a large red leather chesterfield and an absolutely massive, highly polished, mahogany desk. Howard was obviously set on revenge and so was I - I was also very drunk. I was wearing a long white silk evening dress slit to the hip, so I quite calmly removed my knickers and put them in my handbag, bunched the skirt of my dress up around the waist and asked, 'Where do you want me?' The chesterfield was the obvious place but I thought the desk might be a possibility. Amazingly he wanted a knee trembler with my back against the panelling. Now Howard is a big man with plenty of extra poundage due to drink and good living. Though doubtful, I let him lift me up and dutifully wrapped my legs round him but as he lurched against the wall, the carving on the wall panel dug into my bum and it hurt like hell. He might have got his dick into me but I don't know - I was in so much pain from behind that I was unaware of other sensation. He made two or three desperate thrusts but was gasping like a stranded fish, his face had gone very red and his eyes were bulging out. 'I think you better put me down Howard,' I suggested gently and he did."

The memory caused a smile to flit across Beth's face. "As soon as my feet were on the floor Howard staggered but before he could fall I caught his arm and helped him to the chesterfield. Looking down I saw that his now very limp penis was still sticking out through his zip but at that moment I heard the study door opening behind me. So blocking the view of anybody coming in through the door, I very quickly pushed his dick back where it belonged and even managed to pull the zip most of the way up but when I turned it was to find my husband and Emma staring at me. I explained that Howard had suffered a dizzy spell but said I had managed to get him into his study before any of the guests noticed. Dave in turn felt a need to tell me that they had been out on the veranda with Ted Lomax discussing the stars and that they were now in search of a book on astronomy. That is how the incident passed off but I couldn't help thinking that had Howard not felt a need to sexually defile his religious panels, our respective spouses might have walked in on us happily humping away on the chesterfield. Afterwards I preferred to think that Howard never got his thing in the slot and I excuse my involvement as a drunken misunderstanding."

"Were your husband and Emma any less innocent?" I asked.

"They were pure as driven snow. A few days later I came right out and asked Dave if he would like to screw her. He said, 'God no - she's far too thin for me. Actually it's because I don't fancy her at all that we get on so well. She has a fantastic mind and I enjoy talking to her. The trouble with talking seriously to a woman is that you can't look into her eyes for too long without it seeming to mean something and it's even worse to keep glancing down at her tits - and if you avoid looking at all, it appears insulting. I can talk to Emma for ages without the spectre of sex rearing up and spoiling everything'. So you see I was completely wrong about everything," Beth concluded.

"Has he ever cheated on you?"

"I don't know do I - he has got every opportunity in the world being away from home so much. From what I hear, guys who work away a lot do get their oats at least from time to time but I honestly don't believe that Dave does. I'm sure that I would know instinctively. He's not into sex much at all - when we first met he was a tiger for it but since the kids he has gradually lost interest and really only does what is expected of him. I have to say though that he has been a lot keener since Cyprus. I've thought about this a lot and I think it is all to do with adrenaline. People who get their adrenaline fix some other way have less need of sex - work is my husbands mistress not some other woman. His work is a constant ego trip for him - always walking onto a site and being the one man who can solve all their problems. He is always telling me how marvellous it is being the man of the moment."

"Forgetting Howard, I find it difficult to believe that you have gone through ten years of marriage without even contemplating infidelity. Almost all women in my experience do at least daydream about it."

Beth nodded. "You're right. I suspect that a lot the women I know do a lot more than daydream about it. None has ever admitted it to me straight out but there are always lots of hints and innuendo. Recently a famous Welsh pop star was at my health club during the day. That night my pal wished she had been there earlier and then went on to say, ' I'd be the first to throw my knickers on his stage - he can have me anytime he wants'. This might have been just light-hearted wishful thinking but she said it far too intensely. I could not help thinking that a woman who would so easily want to open her legs for an admitted but unattainable sex symbol was likely to do the same for real with some lesser mortal that she happened to fancy. The point is that up to that remark she had given the impression of being very happily married."

At this point I refreshed Beth's glass and then suggested that she might like to move onto the holiday part of the story. She took a sip of her drink and started, "Early on in June I took the kids to visit my parents. While they were playing in the garden my mother told that she and my father had taken a chalet at the coast for two weeks in August. 'The thing is that we would like to take the children with us this year if that is all right with you,' she said hesitantly. I had no objections but when I did not answer immediately she put her hand on mine and added, 'It is a good opportunity for you and David to get away somewhere completely by yourselves. Your dad and I think it might do the pair of you a world of good.' I suddenly loved the idea. My mind immediately went back to the honeymoon and I thought that a combination of sun, sand and hopefully a lot of relaxed sex might allow Dave and me to recapture something of what we had lost. When I got home, Dave was not averse to the prospect and as he had nothing major lined up for any time in August he said he would book himself holiday time the next day. The travel agent found us a very good deal for two weeks in Cyprus and the future looked very bright."

Beth gave a wry grin. "The next two months were marvellous full of anticipation and buying holiday clothes but the day before we were due to fly, while I was actually busy packing, David got a phone call. When he finished talking he told me that he had to fly to Germany instead of coming with me. He said, 'It will only be for three days and then I can join you. We will still have eleven days together and I'm sure you can amuse yourself until I get there'. I was livid but he claimed that it was one of those rare critical occasions. So I caught the plane to Cyprus by myself. I did not make friends with anybody on the way there but I reckon I was probably rather surly and uncommunicative. At the hotel I got the luggage to my room then had a meal in the restaurant. Afterwards my only plan for the evening was to unpack everything and then go to bed but I suddenly thought 'Sod it, I am certainly not going to mope in my room until Dave arrives.' So I unpacked just one little dress, put on more make-up than I usually wear and took myself down to the bar."

"All by yourself, that was a bit brave of you."

"Not really. I was quite bold when I was single and was always prepared to go to a bar or dancing by myself if I hadn't a girlfriend to go with. I actually enjoyed it that way - there was more a feeling of power. Within minutes of arriving I could pick out not only the guys I might fancy but also the ones most likely to make a move on me. Going into the hotel bar it was exactly the same and it felt as if the intervening years had not happened. I felt young again. Straight away I felt the eyes on me and spotted some half a dozen guys that I was likely to have to contend with. One was the typical Latin lover, big and good looking with black curly hair, another obviously did weights because he had his biceps and a good part of his chest on display, two were rather anachronistic medallion men and there were another pair whose bold gaze told me were players. At that point I favoured the Latin."

"Can I have a little bet on which one you chose?"

"You'd lose," Beth said. "I had taken a spare stool by the bar, mainly so I could study the room in the mirror. A young guy on the next stool that I had not noticed asked if he could buy me a drink and I accepted, mainly to gain a bit of breathing space. He introduced himself as Costos and said that he was a fisherman. I was not particularly struck - black curly hair but not very good looking, (mainly due to a rather swarthy complexion), average height, average build and his English was a very long way from being fluent. I would possibly have dumped him as soon as politeness allowed but at that moment Mr Latin lover crowded in on my left side, showing complete disregard for the fact that I was talking to Costos. That blew his chances with me and I squashed him with one of the old put-downs that seemed to leap quite naturally back into my mind. I think that Costos was aware of the others breathing down his neck because he said, 'I know a much nicer place to drink than this.' I think it was the pleading look in his eyes that made me go with him."

"Risky."

"I know. When he started taking me down a maze of little back streets I got very nervous but we finished up in a tiny little bar frequented only by fishermen and where I think few tourists ever trod. All the customers were male except for two old Greek women sitting in a corner who looked like bats in their black dresses. Many of the men seemed to be friends of Costos, calling out good-natured remarks to him in their own language. We were drinking retsina and after only a couple of glasses I realised that I was having a very nice time. I seemed to have been accepted by these locals, so much so that at one point, Costos and three pals placed arms round each other's shoulders and performed a traditional Greek dance for my benefit. In quieter moments he told me of his parents, three brothers and one sister, his work and his plans for the future. He was a simple guy with limited horizons but I found that very endearing."

"Retsina can be a very insidious drink," I suggested.

Beth smiled at the implication of my remark but instead of responding she carried on with her story. "Suddenly my mobile phone went. I knew that it would be Dave so I went and stood outside. He talked for fully five minutes about how the German job was a massive cock-up, how nothing was where it should be and how it was a good job that he was on the job because the other two resident engineers on site knew sod all compared to him. Right at the end he asked what I was doing and I said I was in the bar, giving the impression that it was the one in the hotel. He then wanted to know what I was planning to do and I said that I would probably go to bed. That was the end of the call because he said 'Bye Love' but then added the words 'Be good.'"

I couldn't help smiling because I could see that being like a red rag to a bull. "I bet you were seething," I suggested

"You bet," Beth confirmed emphatically, "Those two words infuriated me and straight away I decided that I would let Costos fuck me if he wanted to. This was not a case of overwhelming physical desire and although I had been drinking a lot I was a long way from being drunk, so you can see that I decided what I was going to do quite cold-bloodedly. I had noticed that my companion had something reasonably substantial hidden in his pants but I honestly don't think that this was a factor. It was obvious that Costos did want to screw me but whether he would make a move in that direction was a different matter and I certainly wasn't going to lay it on the line for him if he didn't."

There was a pause as Beth looked at me defiantly before saying, "I expect that you're wondering why I used the F-word instead of a euphemism like 'make love' or 'sleep with'? Well there was not going to be any love and no certainty that I would actually sleep - but as it happens I did. I didn't feel at all guilty because I believed that it served David right. He told me to 'be good' - well I was better than that, in fact I was bloody fantastic."

"You have jumped a bit in the story," I objected.

She nodded. "I know. I rejoined Costos and we stayed drinking for another half an hour and then he asked if I would like a coffee. I said 'Yes' thinking he meant a nearby coffee bar but he took me to his vehicle - it was one of those funny Citroens that look like a kids drawing of a car. We went miles and finished up where he lives. It was only a shack near the beach, rather primitive but both comfortable and cosy. He did set some coffee going but we didn't drink it, at least not until a long time afterwards. We started kissing and pretty soon we were going at it hammer and tongs. I can't tell you what it was like to have the first new cock in me for almost twelve years except to say that it was wonderful. His penis was a good inch longer than Dave's and a whole lot thicker. He was also uncut where my husband is circumcised. When I was single I used to prefer the untouched kind. They were more interesting to play with and gave more sensation on the job but some were a bit dodgy to suck. That did not apply to Costos because I could not get enough of having his cock in my mouth. Honestly I got totally besotted by that gorgeous organ."

Beth had gone dreamy remembering but she shook her head and continued in a calmer voice. "Costos is also a far better lover than my husband, even compared to those early years when Dave was in his prime. My lovely Greek Cypriot was also far more basic in lots of ways - for example he calls my cunt a cunt instead of 'pussy', which is the word David always uses. Dave also now refers to my breasts as 'boobs', which I think is a completely sexless expression. He used to call them 'tits' at one time but I think he must have got brainwashed by political correctness over the years. That's one of the reasons I am sure he doesn't play around when he's working away - a husband screwing other women would never dream of calling tits 'boobs'."