He Wanted This Not Me

As I stepped through the front door, anxiety washed over me like prickly heat. The assured confidence and empowerment I had felt earlier in the day began to fade around the edges. I had been so confident about my actions when it happened, but my moral compass flickered as I entered our marital home, suggesting that I had done something wrong.

My husband smiled warmly when he met me in the hallway, but I sensed something was off with him, too. There was an awkwardness between us, as if we had become strangers in the hours of my absence. His strained expression blended love, regret, and shame - not a delightful combination to boost my confidence.

Robert hugged me and held my hand almost desperately.

"Hi, Rebecca. How was Karl?"

"Hello, Robert. Let's go upstairs and talk, sweetheart."

"Okay."

In our bedroom, I kissed him softly and held his hand, wringing his trembling fingers, anxious, wondering if I'd done the right thing.

He wanted this, not me.

But it felt so right, and now it feels so fucking wrong.

I flipped off my stiletto heels while my husband stared thoughtfully at the floor. I waited for him to mull everything over and consider his position while rubbing the back of his hand with my thumb, trembling from head to toe.

Eventually, Robert summoned the courage to look at my face. He pursed his lips, and his eyes sparked like a lightning rod when struck - his manifestation of jealousy.

He looks uncertain and jealous.

Oh fuck! What have we done?

Robert's eyes narrowed, and his brow furrowed as he prepared to ask a question, the answer of which I feared he may not like. When his voice croaked, my heart thumped loudly, so damn loud that I thought it might crack a rib or explode. My mouth was parched, as were my lips, until I licked them.

He coughed, wet his lips, and took a deep breath.

"Did you do it, Rebecca?"

"Yes, honey."

"May I see, please?"

"Of course."

With shaking fingers, I lifted my dress hem. Robert's eyes sparkled excitedly as he stared at my thighs. His cheeks burned, and his chest heaved as it fed a choking sound at the back of his throat.

My husband was suffering the most significant dilemma of his life.

Robert knew he'd lost his wife - at least partially. There was no going back from Karl for either of us, and I knew there would be other lovers, too, some already occurring to me. My husband stared at my panties for a whole minute, and I imagined the dark staining on my white cotton fronts that must reveal I had done as he asked - no, as he begged.

A desperate look flickered when Robert glanced at me; his eyes reflected my terror.

He doesn't know what to do.

I nodded down to my panties.

"You do it, sweetheart. We must create rituals and boundaries."

"Okay."

My husband's trembling fingers felt icy and stiff against my skin when he slipped them inside my underwear waistband. I panted, closed my eyes, praying for my salvation, then opened them and stared at my husband, terrified of his reaction once everything he had wished and begged for was confirmed.

Robert paused with his fingers holding steady between my skin waistband, my panties not fully eased open, at least not enough for him to glance down and inspect my shame inside them. He sniffed deeply and smiled.

My husband's demeanor suddenly changed, and he seemed confident.

"I'm not afraid of what I will see inside your panties, Rebecca."

"It's Karl."

"I know."

"This is what you wanted, honey."

"I know. The anticipation of this moment and my jealousy while you were gone almost killed me, but now, knowing he fucked you, I feel calm and happy, like a place in my soul is finally eased.

"How do you know for sure I did it?"

"I smell your lover. Karl is ingrained in you, and the scent comes from your soiled underwear."

"Take a look and see our shame."

"I'm not ashamed, Rebecca."

"I am."

"You shouldn't be."

"I like feeling this way."

My husband peered down and pulled out my panties. I bent my knees slightly, spreading them to fully expose my shame - a thick layer of my lover's semen coating the double lining of my panty gusset. I stared down with my husband, inspecting the tawdry mess that soaked into the fabric, staining it. More of my lover's glistening white cum leaked from my well fucked hole, matting into my inky black pubic bush.

Robert licked his lips and glanced up at me, his nostrils flaring wildly because intense emotions consumed him. He smiled weakly, nodding with an expression I took to be his approval.

"You did it, Rebecca."

"Karl fucked me three times."

"Was he good?"

"He is an amazing lover."

"Was he better than me?"

"Oh god, please... not this, Robert."

While staring at me with fiery, excited eyes and a look of utter joy, my husband slipped an index finger into my pubic bush, feeling around the sticky, wiry hairs until he found my slit, parting both swollen, soaking-wet pussy lips.

He slid his finger down my creamy furrow, inserting it inside the gaping pussy hole my lover had relentlessly fucked in every position, in every room of his apartment. Karl squirted his seed inside my pussy three times, so I was a sloppy slut. That didn't bother my husband, who fingered me while pleading for more details about the day I spent with a lover.

"Was Karl better than me? Please... I want the absolute brutal truth, Rebecca."

"At fucking me - yes, he was much better and far more considerate. You'll work harder when fucking me now."

"I will."

"You really must, Robert."

"And what about his cock size?"

"His cock was longer and thicker than yours - more satisfying, much more filling, and he had the stamina to keep going that you lack."

My husband sighed, getting off on my sexual satisfaction, something that was a problem in our marriage until today. Now, he seemed eased into a happier place, absolved of all responsibilities for being my sexual partner.

"Thank you, Rebecca."

"Are you happy now?"

"Yes... but..."

"But?"

"I want to reclaim you."

"I want that too, honey."