One Wounded Seagull

Adultery in the marital bed

The Friday morning meeting finished early - half the mothers didn't turn up so most of the topics were deferred to next month's meeting. I drove home thinking about what the pair I had left there together would be up to. I had a fair idea that it was likely to be very intimate.

Did I really want to catch them at it? I realised that, strangely, yes I did. I didn't want it to be happening. But I wanted to be there when it was. I don't know why. Moth drawn to flame? That was me.

I parked in the carport and made my way into the house. Any doubts on the way home I may have had about what they would be doing were immediately dispelled. The female member of the pair was noisy. Her high-pitched cries of Uhhh-Uhhh-Uhhh- echoed down the hallway from our bedroom. (I knew that the man with her, my husband, was not very vocal during sex. It was only just prior to climax that he would become noisy, panting heavily, and finally groaning a loud Ahhhh as he ejaculated. I couldn't hear any sound from him, so I assumed that they were not yet in the throes of orgasm.)

I walked down the hall and through the open door to our bedroom. The sight that greeted me was of a very white bottom, a female bottom, rising and falling; the whiteness of her bum accentuated by her tan lines. Her white bottom also contrasted with the darker skin tone of my husband's hands pulling firmly on each cheek, so that her anus became a major feature of the display as she straddled him and bounced up and down.

As I stood there I felt strange twinges of arousal. I didn't want to be turned on by the sight before me, but it was incredibly sexy. I had never before watched another couple having sex, and I stood transfixed just inside the door near the foot of the bed. The marital bed. They were having sex on our bed.

Neither of them saw me - her long dark hair hung down shading them both. And I knew that my husband always focused hard on my face during sex with me, so he would surely be watching her facial expressions as best he could right now and would be unaware of my presence.

Her cries and the sound of their two bodies slapping together filled the bedroom. She was energetic as well as vocal. My gaze focused around the junction of their two bodies: Her perineum's smooth skin separating her vagina from her anus. Her vaginal entrance with its rim rolling inward as she dropped down and as the shaft of my husband's penis disappeared up inside her. The rim rolling outward again as she rose up and her sheath seemed unwilling to release the intruder. His shaft slick and coated with her creamy secretions. His testicles in their scrotal sac nestling at the junction of his thighs. His legs pressed tightly together, which he always said increased the pressure he felt inside as he was about to come.

I tore myself away and retreated down the hallway into the lounge room. I sat there for a while, listening to the sounds of their mating. There was a short period of silence and then a few indistinct words, followed by Oh, Yesss, and her Uh—Uhh—Uhhh slowly returned to full volume. They must have changed positions. Was this some sort of sexual gymnastics they were engaged in? I wondered how many positions they would try before one or the other or both made it to the Big O.

I had to sort out my thoughts. My insides were churning from what I had seen and what was still happening. I almost walked back to the bedroom to see what they were doing - which sexual position were they trying now? But I didn't want to be affected like that. I told myself I mustn't become a voyeur.

I left the lounge room and went out into the garden. I stayed out there wondering. What did this mean for my husband and me and our future together? I had known for a couple of days that despite my misgivings it was likely to happen.

I also knew that I had no right to say that it shouldn't.

*******

My own infidelity

What I am relating here happened almost half a lifetime ago. I was 36, Luellen wife of Donald (still am) and mother of three children aged 7 to 10 (they are adults now with kids of their own).

A few years earlier, when I was 33, I had returned to the workforce for a year to supplement the family income. Over that year I became fascinated by Ray, a man I met at work, and in the last twelve weeks we engaged in a torrid extra-marital affair. In the Loving Wives story

Lue to Lucy and Back

I chronicled how that year unfolded and the effect it had on me, on Don, and on the relationship between us as husband and wife.

Both Don and I had rather conservative upbringings. Don started to change before I did, and as he entered his mid-30s his interests and his reading shifted from various forms of technical literature to the pop-psychology of the 1970s era. He became a close follower of the ideas put forward by authors on rational-emotive thinking, transactional analysis, self-actualisation and similar concepts that were very IN at the time.

One of his favourite books was

Jonathan Livingston Seagull

, and after reading it he consumed everything else he could find that had been written or said by the author Richard Bach. He was particularly impressed by what he called the seagull philosophy:

"If you love something, set it free. If it's yours, it will come back to you. If it doesn't, it never was."

When I confessed my infidelity to him, it was the ultimate test of his belief in that philosophy. But Don did love me, he did set me free, and after a while I did come back.

He took me back in spite of what I was doing. I had initially lied and hidden my unfaithfulness. It was only when he asked me directly if I was having sex with Ray that I admitted it. Don's response at the time was: "You're a free person and I can't control what you do, just like you can't control what I do." At the time, I didn't think through the full implication of that statement - the sting was in the tail.

Before my affair with Ray our marriage was only just OK. It had become stale. Then, while Don was letting me be free, sex became exciting again. It was not only the sex I was having with Ray, but also the sex within our marriage. Don saw what I was doing as positive: "Letting him have half of you has given me a wife who is twice as sexy and twice as exciting as she used to be."

Important though that was, there is so much more to a marriage than just sex. A little while after my affair came to an end, I looked back and guilt crashed down on me. What I had done was wrong. As well as that, I couldn't clear my mind of thoughts about the risks I had taken. I could have lost the man and the family I loved, and it would have served me right.

Don was lovingly supportive; he helped me through my guilt. He continued to express the belief that what I did was not wrong. It was good for us and we couldn't have kept going as we were before Ray came on the scene. "Don't blame yourself. What you did was not wrong. Somebody had to do something. You did it and I'm glad you did."

After Ray disappeared out of our lives and as time went on, we both continued working on our relationship. We settled back into a loving marriage within a loving family.

And then . . . . .

*******

Don turned the tables

Our business had become very successful since we recovered from the downturn that had taken me back into the workforce. Don was now out working with clients all week while I did the administrative work at home. He was building a professional reputation which also led to him being in demand as a speaker at conferences. One contract required him to be away from home interstate at a conference venue for several days each month.

"Tell me about Kylie. What's she really like?" I asked Don one evening at home. Kylie was a coordinator with the conference company and she managed all the workshops and speaking sessions which involved Don. I dealt with her over the phone quite frequently as she organised dates, travel, accommodation, equipment and payments. She impressed me as remarkably efficient, very friendly and very easy for me to work with.

"She's a big girl. Not fat, but big." He replied. "She looks like you would expect her to from talking with her. She dresses smartly and she's always busy. She has a very tidy mind, always making sure that everything is in its place. Everything has to happen exactly the way it is supposed to."

For him to comment on the way somebody dresses was surprising. Don himself cultivated a sort of academic look, just slightly scruffy and only wearing a suit and tie when he absolutely had to. "Yes, I suppose I would expect her to dress well." I said. "How old is she?"

"She's only 22."

"Good grief! I would have thought she was at least thirty." I really was surprised. It wasn't only her competence, she spoke and sounded like an older woman rather than somebody in her early twenties. Our phone conversations often roamed off into other areas and I knew that she lived with her boyfriend, and she had worked for the conference company for several years. We also shared jokes about how slack Don was and the need for both of us to run around after him to make sure that he was in the right places at the right times.

A few weeks later I received a Friday morning phone call from Kylie with the final arrangements for the workshop Don was scheduled to conduct on the following Monday and Tuesday. We sorted it all out fairly quickly, but Kylie didn't respond when I made one of my flippant comments about Don and his state of disorganisation. That evening, I said to Don "Kylie didn't sound her usual self this morning. Is anything wrong?"

"Not that I know of Lue," he replied. "Sometimes things don't go quite according to plan up there and she likes to be on top of everything so that nothing goes wrong. It's her tidy mind. She gets worried easily." Don doesn't get 'worried easily' and I sometimes wonder if he really understands why others might concern themselves about things. His world is very rational - you control what can be controlled and you learn to accept what you can't control.

On Sunday morning I bundled the kids into the kombi, Don put his luggage in the back and I drove to the airport. We waved him goodbye at the drop-off and I drove home with the kids. These 2-day workshops were intense. Don always phoned me on Sunday afternoon after he arrived and while he was setting up before the participants arrived. Then there would be no contact until Tuesday evening after all the participants had left and he was tidying up and winding down. He would stay overnight, then on Wednesday morning he flew back and I collected him from the airport.

This time the Sunday afternoon phone call was about Kylie. The reason she had sounded distant during our phone conversation was that she and her partner Greg had split up. He had been her first true love and she was shattered by their separation. Don said "I have suggested to her that she try to get some time off from work so she can come to our place with me on Wednesday and we can help her get over it."

'Get over it.' That was typical Don. In his rational world:

If something goes wrong, you have a bit of a think about it.

If there's something you can do, and if you want to do it, you do it.

If there's nothing you can do, or if you don't want to do it, you get over it.

(There's no sense in upsetting yourself about something you can't control.)

I agreed with him that it could help her to get away for a while and coming down here would be good if she didn't have family up there or anybody better to talk it over with. Don said her family was down here anyhow. I told him to let me know on Tuesday evening what Kylie had decided to do.

The usual time for Don's Tuesday evening phone call came and went, so I called the venue at 9pm. I was put through to Don's room and I asked whether Kylie was coming with him tomorrow. Don said that she was. I said "You didn't call me at the usual time, and I was wondering what was happening." Don said that he had been talking with Kylie and hadn't got round to making the call.

"So what are you planning to do?" I asked.

"Kylie has packed her things. She is staying with me here tonight and we'll both come down there tomorrow."

How do I react to this? My forty-year-old husband is about to share his room overnight with a 22-year-old woman. But there was nothing that I could do about it. And considering the things I had done only a few years earlier, how could I object anyhow? So I said "OK, I'll pick you both up from the airport at 10 tomorrow. Seeya."

Don said "OK. See you then."

We hung up. I wondered: 'How close is the relationship between Don and Kylie? Is it entirely platonic?'

Don had never had a sexual relationship with another woman; had he had an opportunity and had my affair with Ray provided an excuse for him to take it? How would I react if Don had an affair with Kylie? There could be no answers to those questions, so I finally drifted off to sleep struggling with my dilemma.

There was nothing I could do but wait and see what happened when they were down here together.

*******

Kylie & Don . . . . . and . . . . . Me

When I drove into the airport pick-up area on Wednesday morning, there was one couple who really stood out from the crowd. The tall bearded man in cotton slacks and unbuttoned safari jacket contrasted with the striking young woman standing close beside him. Kylie too was tall - she came well above Don's shoulder. He had described her as "big, not fat"; I would have used the word 'statuesque'.

Kylie's long mane of dark brunette hair hung loose and had been brushed till it shone. She wore a flowing floral-print blouse and skinny jeans, with calf-high boots completing the look. She was attracting several admiring glances from both male and female bystanders.

I pulled in to the kerb, Don put their luggage in the back and opened the side door for Kylie to climb in. While she and I said a quick "Hi" to each other, Don climbed in to the front passenger seat. We leaned across to each other for a quick welcome-home kiss and I pulled out for the drive home.

On the way home I asked my usual "How did it go?" and Don spoke about a few things that had happened during the workshop he had been facilitating. Kylie said "Don goes into a zone on Sunday night and he doesn't come out of it until Tuesday night. Everything he does is totally concentrated on the people in the workshop. I watch him for those two days and wonder how he stays so focused."

After we had lunch and before the kids came home, we sat down and talked about Kylie and Greg. Things had not been going well between them for several months and Greg wanted to move over to the west where he could get a well-paid job in the mining industry. Kylie had her own career with the conference company and didn't want to move. There was no work for women in the mining towns. Greg said he was going anyhow and he had moved out of their flat to stay with his parents until he could arrange to move to the west.

Kylie believed there was no way back to how she and Greg had been before, and she didn't think that she wanted to now that Greg had done what he had done. Her emotions were mixed. She was angry: "I hate him. I hate him for what he has done to me." But she was also feeling rejected because he had walked out on her without trying to understand her needs. It had been her one committed relationship and her only experience of splitting up. She doubted herself: "Was it me? What did I do wrong that he would do something like that?"

She was grateful to Don for his friendship and his advice. "Talking with Don has helped me so much. He said that there was nothing to be gained from looking back, I have to look forward now. But it's scary. Greg was the only real boyfriend I ever had. We were together for so long and I have never really been on my own."

Don dismissed her concerns: "There's a lot of blokes out there who are a lot better than Greg. They'll be pushing each other out of the way to be first in line." I had no doubt that he was right about Kylie's attractiveness to other men. She was strikingly beautiful, and obviously intelligent. But I had friends who had made hasty decisions when on the rebound from a failed relationship so I cautioned her to take it slowly.

When the kids came home, Kylie played with them and read books with them. Then, after dinner when the kids were in bed and Kylie was set up in the spare room, Don and I went to our bedroom. It was our first chance to talk privately since I had collected them from the airport. I wanted to know what had happened on Tuesday night when they had stayed together.

Don said they had talked long into the night about Kylie and Greg and what she planned to do. He thought that she had made up her mind about her next moves and she would get over the break-up fairly easily. I said "Did you sleep with her?" It just bubbled out of me. Somehow, I needed to settle the turmoil that had been inside me since I phoned him and he had told me that she was staying the night with him.

"Yes, I slept with her," he said, "but I didn't have sex with her if that's what you are asking. It was literally just that; we slept together in the same room. There were twin beds."

"Would you have done it if she would?" I asked.

"Not last night," he said, "she had been crying and she was upsetting herself and it wouldn't have been good for her or for me."

We left the conversation hanging there. Don had an early start tomorrow and wanted to sleep. We didn't make welcome-home love which we usually did after he had been away. I dozed off determined that I would talk with Kylie tomorrow while Don was out and see if I could find out what her intentions were.

After Don and the kids were gone on Thursday morning, Kylie spent an hour or so on the phone arranging to spend the weekend with family and friends. While she was doing that I tidied up and did some admin stuff. Then we went out together and did some grocery shopping. All through the morning I tried to hide the tension I was feeling, but Kylie seemed blissfully unaware that there might be anything to be concerned about.

After we had lunch together I said to her "How are you feeling about Greg? It can't be easy having something like this happen after all that time together."

Kylie seemed remarkably at ease with the situation. This was somebody who Don said had been shattered and was crying on Tuesday night. She now seemed to have, in Don's words, 'got over it'. "I've been thinking about things Don talked about," she said.

As she talked, it was clear that she was smitten by Don and was impressed by his ideas. "He's a wonderful man. He is the most together person I have ever met." She recited his philosophy of the seagull and said "It must be so liberating for you both." Liberating? Both? I had been 'liberated' once. Was it now Don's turn?

Kylie continued: "Greg is free now and I know he won't be coming back. And I've decided I wouldn't want him back anyhow. He probably never was mine. Not like you are Don's and Don is yours."

What did she mean by that? Had Don told her how I came back to him after he allowed me to be free? Had he told her about my affair with Ray? I didn't know how to explore that without telling her what I had done, and I didn't want to do that. I hoped Don hadn't told her, and if he had, I certainly wouldn't want to discuss it with her.

In bed that night I asked Don "Did you tell Kylie about Ray and me?" Don said that of course he hadn't; it had nothing to do with her. I told him that I thought she was infatuated with him and that she had picked up on his ideas about the seagull to dismiss Greg from her mind. "I think you are who she really wants," I said.