My Wife Melanie

(Part 2 of 3)

Over the next few weeks I persuaded myself that it didn't happen. My wife never sat in the darkness of her co-worker's car while I watched a dumb movie. She never violated the sanctity of our marriage with her soft lips and his...well it didn't happen. Melanie is a woman of refinement, a real lady. She just wouldn't do something like that.

And yet the thought of her doing just that, in terrible detail, kept popping into my head.

The next occasion of my troubles was teacher professional services day. For years without fail Melanie would attend the mandatory morning sessions, have lunch with her staff and then skip the afternoon electives. I would take the day off and we would do something together. This year though she told me to go ahead and work that day. There were some afternoon sessions she wanted to attend, related to her certification.

I knew that was pure bullshit but I played it cool. I didn't request the day off work but instead called in sick. In the late morning I drove a friend's borrowed car to the school district offices and staked out the parking lot. Sure enough she emerged from the building promptly at noon, practically arm-in-arm with none other than chemistry teacher Tom. They got into his car, a Dodge Challenger, and I followed them to a motel near their school.

I watched through the lobby windows as they checked in and got on the elevator. There were only two floors so I went in and got a room on the second. I had no way of knowing what room they were in but when I walked the upstairs hallway I saw just one Do Not Disturb sign. That had to be them. Unfortunately it was two doors down and across the hall from me.

I wasn't sure what to do next so I left my door cracked and watched. An hour went by and I was about to give up when the housekeeper arrived on the elevator. I asked her to let me into an adjoining room, offering her a version of the truth along with two hundred dollars and a promise not to make any trouble. Shortly I was making myself comfortable in a chair and cautiously putting my ear to a glass pressed against the wall.

It was a bust at first. I could hear muffled conversation, some laughter, random clicks and clinks. At times I could hear Melanie's voice distantly but clearly. Tom's lower voice came through only as a murmur. But I didn't really care what he had to say anyway. It was kind of boring though I guess it was better than hearing a bunch of grunts and groans. Again, I was just about to give up when I heard two somethings fall heavily into the bed on the other side of the wall...and heard one side of a conversation.

"...murmur...murmur...murmur..."

"Yeah, I want to try everything."

"...murmur..."

"I don't know. Everything?"

"...murmur murmur..."

"What? No way. I've never even done THAT with my husband."

I could guess what THAT was and thankfully she wasn't going for it.

"Do you have something we can use as lube?"

What the fuck?

"Well, good thing you planned ahead."

Oh fuck. This was fucked up. I was in a panic. I wanted to yell, beat on the wall, beat down their door, do anything to stop it from happening. But could I have stopped it? Clearly she was Tom's girl now, not mine. If she wanted him, wanted THAT, then I could delay the inevitable but I couldn't stop it.

"Okay, so how do you want me?"

I took the glass away from the wall and stretched out on the bed. I felt sick...and, sorry to say, I was turned on. It was like I looked forward to it happening even as I dreaded it. Despise me if you want. I certainly despise myself for it. But the thought of Melanie, my prim and proper wife, assuming the position, getting herself ready to...to submit to...to being...being sodomized. It was...what is wrong with me? At the same time I was mortified. If only it could be me there with her.

Part of me wanted to put the glass back up, to hear her moans while her lily ass is abused. To hear the dirty words she says as her virginal anus gets stretched. I imagined the look on her face when she realizes...what is wrong with me?

I couldn't listen in though. They were about to do the most private, intimate act I can imagine and who deserves to be spied on during that? Even if I were the best of husbands, which I'm not, and she were the worst of wives, which she is not, even then she would be entitled to some privacy.

I hated her. Still, I hoped he would be gentle with her. I wished I could at least comfort her. But she could never know that I know. I got the fuck out of there.

Why in eight years of marriage had I never tried weird sex like that with Melanie? I've put it in a girl's ass before and LOVED it. Sheri, the girl who almost broke up my marriage...no, that's wrong...the girl who I almost broke up my own marriage over, had a very talented ass. She was proud of it, rightfully so. We didn't do it all the time but it was a real treat when the stars lined up that way.

There were a lot of things Sheri would do that I didn't do with Mel. Didn't do them with Mel not because she wouldn't do them, but because I didn't ask. In my mind there were things you did with your wife and things you did with your...your slut? Is that how I thought of Sheri? I guess I felt it was OK to treat her that way since I didn't really care about her. Is it fair that I treated her that way? Clearly she felt she deserved better from me.

Did I avoid doing those things with Mel because I thought she was too good for it? More likely, I didn't want her to know that I was capable of treating a girl like a fuck toy. I guess that's why I went to Sheri, so I could have my way without feeling guilty about it. I felt guilty now, especially since someone else was treating my own wife like a fuck toy.

If I had been more honest about my desires, if Melanie was into being treated more like a sex object, would it have strengthened the relationship more than weakened it? Would it have led me to resist the siren's call?

Doesn't matter now. I dropped the ball and another man is scoring the touchdown.

At this point you are probably wondering why I don't throw her out, or throw myself out, or throw myself off a bridge. The fact is I love her. Even after her betrayals I love her. And when you love someone they have power over you. I was determined to win her back. And I wasn't going to do it by waving the evidence in her face. And I wasn't going to do it by fist-fighting her boyfriend. I've known her a long time, know what makes her tick. What I needed to do was to prove myself the better man just like when I got her to marry me.

I kept myself cheerful and friendly. Moping around isn't attractive. Mel was a little mopey for a few days and I told myself she was feeling guilty. Good sign? I paid her attention but not too much. Didn't want to crowd her. I was present but gave the appearance of aloofness. Periodically I engineered little excuses to be nice to her:

"This was on sale at the market. It's your favorite flavor right?"

"I'd like to try growing my own herbs. You mind if we go to that garden center you told me about?"

"Hey, it's the anniversary of our first date so I got you a rose just like back then. Corny right?"

Seem like a lot of trouble for a woman who let another guy paint her insides? Well, it's my life. I think she's worth it and while she is still in my life, still in my bed, I still have a chance and I have to take it.

At the same time I was working on myself. I hit the gym every lunch time, sometimes taking off the afternoon to run, bike and swim. I ate nothing but proteins and salad. I even got some of that workout shake that retired athletes push on late night TV. You know, the kind they say "She'll love it too."

I was determined that our next date night, if there was another date night, was going to be special. I would insist that we make love properly. And if we weren't going to do that then why bother? Assuming she agreed to this then I was going to...well...fuck her brains out.

As it turned out I didn't need to give her the ultimatum. She was so ready that our date night started out as date afternoon. We were making out like teenagers. Our hands were all over each other. By the time I got her panties off her pussy was drenched.

I was in good form too. Gave it to her long and hard. Heard sounds out of her I hadn't heard in a long time. As she got close to her finish line she wrapped her legs around me and started thrusting her pelvis to meet my strokes. She came with a shout. I loved it!

Glad to say, I was just getting started. I stood back and enjoyed watching her roll over on all fours. Taking her ivory cheeks in my hands I gave them a couple of long squeezes. I could see her dainty little sphincter winking at me. I was relieved to see it no worse for wear after her little transgression. That is so Melanie...even after that her bunghole looks prim and proper.

She looked like a statue, a horny statue, on her hands and knees, back arched, legs spread. I stuffed myself into her pussy and quickly worked up to an aggressive pace. I was feeling good and had no plans to wrap up early tonight. Mel continued to respond positively and I ran my hands all over her back and hips, felt up her tits, ran her long brown hair through my fingers.

She leaned forward and lowered her chest until her head rested on one arm. I liked that. Then she reached her other arm down between her legs, between my legs, and started caressing my balls while I pounded in and out of her. I really liked that. A gesture so lewd and so caring, it felt fantastic! I found myself building up to the most epic of orgasms.

Then my stupid brain interfered. A most unwelcome vision popped in my head. I saw my wife bent double just like she was but it was on a cheap motel bed, the hand between her legs fondling another man's balls while he...while he fucked her in the ass, while her pathetic husband cringed in the next room. My pace faltered and to my horror I felt myself start to go soft.

"Noooo..." she moaned, disappointment tingeing her voice.

Was this the end? My last chance to assert myself, to make her mine, gone in a sad limp anticlimax? I couldn't let it happen. I had to find something in myself and fast. Lust and pride abandoned me. All I could find now in my heart was anger.

"You fucking bitch!" I cried out and grabbed a handful of flesh on each of her hips. A fresh wave of arousal washed over me and I started hammering away at her wet cunt, yanking her back toward me as my hips slapped loudly against her ass.

"Ohhhh..." She moaned, "Ohhhh..."

Could she possibly be on her way to a second climax? Could this be happening?

"Ohhhh...ohhhh...OHHHH..."

I was hard as rock but could hardly even feel my dick by this time, except where her fingertips danced along where it met her pussy lips. I held back as long as I could but finally finished with a breathless, chest-bursting orgasm.

But I didn't stop. I kept fucking her and she didn't stop me. Instead she pushed herself up on her arms and howled. Then she screwed herself back on my cock and bucked up against me. Then she pitched forward onto her belly and twitched convulsively, arms and legs askew. I had never seen anything like it.

I lay down beside her and she rolled to face me, resting her forehead against my chest. We lay there in each other's arms until we caught our breath.

"That was..."

"Yeah."

She sighed heavily.

"I've been neglecting my guy."

"Your guy loves you."

"I love you too."

Another heavy sigh.

"It won't be much longer."

I didn't reply, just enjoyed the feeling we were sharing.

I was thinking that the long ordeal was just about over.

I was mistaken.