It was at this point that Jerry produced a wallet and flicked it open to reveal a head and shoulders portrait of his wife Eleanor. Instantly I was back standing in a queue at a supermarket checkout and avidly watching a woman at the next checkout whilst hoping Zoë would not notice the focus of my gaze. It was a very hot day and this very attractive woman, wearing a generously low cut top, kept bending over her trolley to transfer items to the moving belt. I was sweating profusely (nothing to do with the humidity) and my seriously stiff penis offered great opportunity for embarrassment when I tried to move. From then on every week I kept a special look out for this very desirable woman but although I spotted her most weeks she seemed to have switched to always wearing sweaters. This was possibly better news because I was unlikely to find myself in such fortuitous juxtaposition at the checkout again and the sweaters did afford a very arousing view of those glorious tits. Sometimes, when she had just come into the store or if we passed near the cold display, the disturbance to the smooth curve of her breasts showed that she had to have nipples like cherries. Forcing these memories back into their box, I asked my new friend, "When and where do you do your shopping?"
For a moment he was startled by the change of subject and then said with a laugh, "Asda, every Saturday morning, the same place and time as everybody in the world - or that's what it feels like when I'm in there."
"That solves it," I told him. "Zoë and I shop there then too and I can remember seeing your wife in there - fairly tall (I almost said 'with beautiful breasts' but switched in time to 'I think she wears sweaters a lot'). Am I right?"
"That must be it," he agreed, pleased that we had solved the mystery, "Do you happen to have a picture of your wife on you?"
I produced my own wallet, pleased to have the chance to proudly display my own lovely Zoë. This too was a head and shoulders but after only a glance, Jerry said enthusiastically, "Oh yes, doesn't she always wear high heels and very tight trousers?" There was an awkward pause for a moment and then we exchanged complicit smiles at the fact that, although we could barely remember each other we both were able to instantly recall the physical attributes of the others spouse with almost photographic clarity. "We are both very lucky men," he concluded and I was happy to concur.
In some strange way a bond seemed to have formed between us. After a couple more pints, Jerry looked at his watch and said, "The evening is still young, what say you to finding ourselves a couple of willing wenches to keep us warm through the witching hour?"
"I thought you said that you were happily married," I shot back - I was almost prudishly shocked. "Maybe you didn't actually say that you were happily married but you definitely inferred it. Or did I just assume?"
"I am very happily married so you are not wrong - just coming up to seven years of marital bliss in fact. That does not mean that a bit of relaxation goes amiss when I get the chance. It's probably not the same for you but I spend an average of three nights away from home in some anonymous hotel. If I hadn't found a pleasant way to pass the time, I would have gone crazy long ago."
Even if I lived his life I doubt if I could behave like that because I loved Zoë far too much - my conscience would be too much to bear. It is too late to claim that I never looked at another woman because the anecdote related above would prove me wrong, I certainly looked (and often) but doing was a completely different matter. Why should I when for me Zoë was the most wonderful woman in the world? Petite with short black curly hair, she always wore high heels to compensate for lack of stature but these also served to enhance her most striking feature. I am a connoisseur of women viewed when walking away and I can say that my wife has the most perfect arse that I have ever seen. Her breasts could be larger but Zoë cleverly distracts from this deficiency by wearing tight trousers to enhance her prime asset. I am well aware that she receives more than her fair share of lascivious glances from passing males and most of the time this fills me more with pride than jealousy. I politely declined the invitation but stressed that I didn't want to spoil his fun. Jerry grinned and confessed that he might just manage to do without sex for one night, going on to suggest that we got ourselves blathered instead - and that is what we did.
Zoë and I bumped into the other couple at the supermarket a couple of weeks later - ironically standing in adjacent checkout queues. (Unfortunately Eleanor was wearing a sweater). Jerry greeted me like a long lost friend and suggested that we all four meet up in the café for a coffee. The two wives hit off straight away, forming a sisterhood and automatically combining to treat Jerry and me as errant small boys. From then on we became firm friends, eating out together, going to the theatre and socialising at each other homes, on an alternating weekly basis (whenever Jerry was available). They had a very nice house with a pool in the large garden but, as we only visited in the evening, we never got a chance to use it.
During these evenings Eleanor frequently wore low cut gowns so I have had plenty of opportunity to feast my eyes during the two years we have been friends. Jerry in his turn continued to fancy my wife - once I saw him standing slightly behind Zoë flexing his hand in frustration as he fought the desire to grasp her buttock. Over this time the two women seemed to grow closer together having found a natural rapport while Jerry and I maintained only a surface camaraderie, being basically two completely different types of men
So of all the many women that Zoë might have chosen to consider having a lesbian affair with, Eleanor was the obvious candidate. "Tell me about it," I urged, smiling encouragingly.
"I think it really started when we all went to the Turkish bath last week. It was not very busy so Eleanor and myself were the only two in our part of the women's section. After a while I became aware that she was staring at my tits too much. I had looked at her, not just her breasts but all over but I did try to make it casual. She is probably not a natural blonde because her bush is nearly as dark as mine and it is not really a bush because she has trimmed it to a narrow strip. I think that is to do with her bikini line because they do holiday abroad a lot and of course they have that pool. I suppose that I did look at her breasts a lot because they really are lovely and she's got these fabulously large nipples. The point is that she caught me looking. I got terribly embarrassed and looked away but nothing was said."
Zoë blushed at the memory and asked me to get her a drink before continuing. "This afternoon I drove round to see her as I usually do since it turned out that she and I have the same half day from work.
We chatted just as normal but it was different, kind of strained. Then suddenly, Eleanor sat forward and told me very seriously that she had been very happily married for seven years, that Jerry was very good in bed and that he had a very nice sized fat cock. I didn't understand why she had told me that but I came right back and pointed to her that we had been extremely happily married for five years and that you were a fabulous lover - I didn't mention that we both wished you had that bit extra down there."
That last was said with a small smile and reflected a familiar topic. During the first year after the wedding (or possibly while we were shacked up for those few months beforehand), Zoë was standing naked admiring herself in the mirror when she said, 'I could be very happy with my figure if I only had a couple more inches on my bust.' 'I would be happy with just an inch - as long as it was on the length of my prick,' I told her. 'So would I,' she came back like a shot, we both start laughing and since then it has been a kind of running joke throughout the marriage. [After that first humorous slur on my manhood Zoë had tried to make amends by saying, "You are a bit thicker than average and a shorter thicker penis is always better than a longer thinner one." I seldom brought this opinion back to mind because of the inevitable implication that she was a connoisseur on the subject]
My wife took a gulp from her glass. "Eleanor suddenly stood up. I don't know why but I did too and next thing she has grabbed my arms and is pulling me against her. We must have embraced dozens of time before without noticing the body contact but this time I was very aware of how our breasts were pressing together; in fact I was conscious of her whole body. Then she kissed me. We have often kissed on the mouth before but not with lips parted and she has certainly never pushed her tongue in my mouth. It was as if I had been connected to the electricity supply because I felt sparks and tingles going off all over my body. I started kissing her back and we must have snogged for a solid ten minutes without coming up once for air. During that time she stroked my tits and I squeezed hers but it was when I felt her unhooking my bra that I suddenly saw sense and broke away. Eleanor thought she had got me, so she was a bit put out and asked why I didn't want her to make love to me anymore. I told her that I did want her to, I wanted it desperately, (I was so wet), but I said that her being a woman didn't make any difference because it was still infidelity and I had promised never to cheat on you. She asked if that was it but I said 'not necessarily' but I told her that I would not do anything else with her until I had spoken to you."
"What did you think I would say?"
