I got very little sleep that night. I lay in bed, mind racing, thinking about what had happened last night...and, obviously, very likely the night before. My loving, sweet wife had snuck downstairs, in my own home, and given my college buddy a blowjob. And swallowed his cum. And then come back upstairs and fucked my brains out. And I had watched it happen!
I wasn't sure exactly how I felt about everything. I was angry, sure, and a little hurt. But I was also surprisingly turned on by the thought of my wife having this side to her, this dirty, slutty side. How did this happen? Was this the first time something like this had happened? Was she going to do more? Why hadn't I said anything, and instead just watched it happen? And I certainly couldn't complain about the sex for the last two nights, it was wild, passionate and exhilarating. Should I confront her? Should I ignore it? Do I want it to go further? My wife seemed to be facing none of these demons, as she slept peacefully beside me, dreaming who knows what.
The next day was Sunday, and I spent most of it doing yard work and jobs around the house. My wife took the kids to the park, and Randy spent the day watching TV and working out in our basement exercise room. We all had dinner together again, and the evening passed uneventfully. We watched a Sunday evening baseball game together, and then Amy and I told Randy we were heading up to bed. We went through our normal evening routine yet again, reading quietly next to each other. My eyes were on my book but I couldn't concentrate on the words on the page. Was she going to go back down there again tonight? Again my wife waited for a half hour or so until my usual time to turn out the lights, turned to me and said, "I'm going to go make sure Randy has everything he needs, be back in a minute," and grabbed a hair band from her nightstand, putting her hair up in a ponytail as she slid out of bed.
"Ok sweetie, you are such a good host," I said, trying not to sound overly suspicious, trying not to let on what I had seen the night before.
This time I was determined not to fall asleep, but I wasn't sure I was prepared to see what was happening downstairs again, so I sat there, in the darkness of our bedroom, on the cool sheets of our marital bed, and waited. Forty minutes passed, and I heard her quietly walking up the stairs and creeping towards our room. As she opened the door and entered, heading for the master bathroom, I flicked on the bedside lamp. She looked at me, apparently a little surprised that I was still awake. In the illumination of the lamp, I could see that she was flushed, sweaty, and had a shiny, sticky substance around her lips and on her chin.
"What took you so long down there?" I asked, unable to hide my suspicion and frustration at this point.
"Oh I was just making sure he had fresh sheets, and he wanted a glass of water," she lied, unconvincingly.
"Come here for a second," I said.
"I just need to run to the bathroom, I'll be in bed in a minute," she replied.
"Amy...come here, please."
She slowly walked towards me, apparently unaware of the evidence left behind on her face, or her disheveled appearance.
"What is that on your face?" I asked her pointedly.
"What? Oh, um...while I was down there I got hungry for a late night snack so I had an ice cream bar..."
"Amy...I saw you last night. I know what happened. What the fuck is going on?"
She immediately burst into tears and climbed into bed next to me, burying her face in my chest, and saying, "I'm sorry, Mike, I'm so sorry, I'm such an awful wife, I'm so sorry."
"Just tell me what happened," I said, with a mix of sympathy and anger, and my own guilt at having watched and said nothing the night before.
"Well, Friday night I went down to get him a blanket, and he was there, sitting in his boxers. And as I was getting things ready for him, his...thing, it slipped out the slit in the front. And I know that all the girls at school had talked about him, and said how...big he was, but I had always just figured that was just gossip and rumor. But Mike...its huge. He wasn't even hard, and it was still at least 6 inches. And thick, and...I couldn't stop looking at it. And...he caught me staring at it."