I assume readers will get the tongue-in-cheek aspects of this. This is a sequel to
Wayward Ellen
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In the spring and summer of 1981, Ellen, my wife of three years, had affairs with two guys from two different companies. As soon as she got the second job, she dropped the first one -- or he dumped her - and she started up with the second lover.
She was either sloppy or brazen or maybe both, but she did a poor job of covering her tracks. Regarding the first one, I was once waiting on a corner on Greenwich Avenue in the Village when this guy pulled up with Ellen in the front seat of his car. They were both drunk and pawing at each other.
Then we had diner at a restaurant with her other equally drunk coworkers. Elephant and Castle; the place is still there.
To top it off, she threatened to leave me behind in our old Bronx apartment, while she went off for her "trial separation." That never did seem of make sense, because I was supposed to be able to visit her out in her new Brooklyn apartment for, well, conjugal relations. I should have known it was a red herring by the time of my birthday when she gave me a book entitled,
Old Brooklyn in Early Photographs, 1865-1929.
On the title page she had written, "Dear Paul: start finding your way around. Love, Ellen."
When we did finally move to Brooklyn, the second of her affairs went out of control. She would just disappear for a day, or three, and she never told me exactly where she went. I just had to find out more, so I went through the many typewritten drafts of letters to her sister in her desk drawer. As Erica Jong had written, "I've always thought that going through other people's mail is the lowest of the low, but jealousy will make you do strange things." Those unsent letters confirmed it.
On the advice of a male relative, I had given her an ultimatum: either she submitted to a long and hard hand spanking from me, or I would leave. Actually, I wasn't sure I could follow through on the second threat, but she complied with the first. One afternoon after work, I had her over my lap in the living room, her pantyhose and panties were down around her knees, and her big pale ass exposed to my thwacks.
The problem, if one could call it a problem, was that she liked it more -- a lot more -- than either one us had expected. I recalled the moaning sounds she had made, her statement during the session, "I'm so warm down there, I mean all over."
That was when I had felt her cunt and found it wet, fully lubricated. Eventually, she had straddled me and given me an enthusiastic cowgirl fucking. Pain in her behind became pleasure in her pussy. Of course, my intention to "discipline" her had gone sideways. But I wasn't that concerned back then; I figured I had saved our marriage even if the technique to do that had been inadvertent.
One day a couple of weeks later I was home from work about an hour earlier than was usual for me. Our apartment was on the top floor of a row house in the Sunset Park neighborhood of Brooklyn. It was one of thousands and thousands of more or less similar houses that had gone up all around the borough near the beginning of the century.
I opened the front door, went through a little foyer, and I was just at the threshold of the living room when I heard women's voices -- two of them, it seemed. I heard moans, little yips of pleasure, and softly spoken endearments.
For a second or two, I was confused; then I knew exactly what I would find. Our apartment had a railroad flat arrangement, with the parlor at the back, a middle room with no windows, and the bedroom at the front, facing the street.
I didn't hesitate, and I walked right into the bedroom. Ellen was lying face-up on the bed. She still had some of her work clothes on, but her jacket, pantyhose, panties, and shoes were on the floor. Her skirt was up around her waist.
Her best friend Doreen Hannity, was lying face down. It looked like she had come from work too, except that she was wearing gray trousers. Her white blouse and dark shoes were similar to what Ellen was wearing. The trousers and her panties were down around her knees, and I could see her compact little ass.
The main element of this scene was that Doreen's head was between Ellen's spread legs and she was eating out my wife's pussy. The latter was holding her lover's red hair and she was moaning loudly.
Some guys might have jumped in for a threesome, but I had a different plan that might be satisfying in its own way. It only took a moment for Ellen to notice me. "Oh my God." That was what people usually said in these situations, I supposed.
Doreen rolled over to Ellen's right side. She actually seemed fairly calm compared to the shocked look that my beloved spouse had. I got right into it, "Ellen, I told you what would happen if I caught you cheating again."
"But it's with another woman; that doesn't count."
"It certainly does count."
What was really bothering me was that she was again doing things behind my back. I hadn't even be invited for a three-way, although I probably wouldn't have felt comfortable with it anyway. The point was that Ellen was showing her disregard for me and it would only be a matter of time before she'd be doing it with guys again too. Only a little over two weeks had passed since my first warning and first attempt at punishment.
It was baffling why they were here instead of at Doreen's place a short distance away. Maybe it had started out as a platonic visit that had gotten hot and bothered.
Doreen suddenly said, "I'm going to go to the living room and have a cigarette."
Yeah, Doreen, that seems like a good idea.
She quickly got her clothes up and then she left the room.
Ellen had smoothed her skirt down and she was sitting against the headboard. I said, "You know that if you were unfaithful again, you were getting more than a hand spanking." She had actually liked that a little too much, I thought. "This time I'm going to take my belt out of its loops and whip your bare ass until it falls off."
"This is completely unfair, I haven't really done anything wrong."
"I just said this, girl-on-girl action does count. So get to the living room."
Ellen was soon in the parlor next to a roll-out bed that doubled as our sofa. I was surprised that Doreen was so relaxed while sitting across the room finishing her cigarette. I wasn't sure why she hadn't left yet. I could have told her to just go, but something made me decide against it.
I looked over at Doreen.
What, does this chick want to watch?
I caught her look and tried to decipher her expression, but I couldn't. Then a thought came to me about what to do about her. It seemed outrageously implausible but it was worth trying it.
"Doreen, you are responsible for this too. Get over there next to Ellen and take some discipline too."
Ellen was livid, "What kind of crazy stunt are you trying to pull? That's my best friend!"
However, Doreen sort of contradicted her. She calmly said, "I accept my responsibility in all this and I know I need to be punished too."
I said, "This is how it's going to go. First one, then the other, is going to get my belt applied across the ass, clothes up. Then the next phase is a session on the bare behind. Pants are coming down for that."
Ellen said, "This is outrageous. How dare you whip us?"
"It's that way or the highway. I'll be gone so fast it will make your head spin." I didn't mention the $300 per month rent (about $850 in today's money, but with the run-up in New York real estate, surely more than that). I meanwhile could look for another $180 apartment like the one we had just left. That would be $510 today but, again, really far more than that.
Actually, I didn't want to go through the hassles of moving now that I had just gotten here. It seemed that this one-off kerfuffle with the belt would solve all of my problems and Ellen would finally settle down.
It was time to instruct Ellen. "Okay, honey, this is the plan. Bend over and put your hands on the bed." This pull-out bed was also our sofa. There was a big mirror right there on the wall, so she was going to watch herself get spanked. She complied with my instructions even if she didn't like them.
