Scott looked around the room. The New Year's Eve party clamored raucously with laughter and conversation. So far, the party appeared successful. To stay off the dangerous streets on this night each year, the neighborhood held their own party, which rotated every year to a different home. This year, Scott and Claire Dillon hosted the event.
He strolled into the kitchen to congratulate Claire. Her careful preparations and attention to detail had insured the success of the party. They had been married for seven years, seven wonderful years to Scott's mind, and with their cute, very loveable three-year-old daughter - staying with the grandparents, that night - they had created a loving family. Scott couldn't imagine being happier.
Successful with his own business, Scott had started building custom homes while in college studying architecture. He entered the business first as a designer, and then as a superintendent, and during his fourth year in architecture, he designed and constructed a house on his own on speculation. It sold quickly, and he started another, then another, and soon his business eclipsed the time he needed to finish his education. A late-night discussion with Claire - they had been married a year at the time - provided the direction for the rest of his career. He quit school and never looked back. He was already doing what he loved and wanted to do, and his efforts provided all the income he and his family needed. He wasn't rich, but he made an above average living - well above average.
Inside the kitchen, Claire stood looking perplexed and beautiful. Of course, she always looked beautiful. He had known from the first moment he saw her she was the woman for him. He met her while attending college after a stint in the military. She had finished college the year before and was teaching school. He had courted her because of her beauty but married her for her other qualities. She was a loving and giving woman, sexy and smart and full of joy. To Scott, she looked like a ravishing runway model, tall and slim with perky breasts and a small waist. Her hips were a touch wide for modeling, but great for bearing children, and he loved her firm derriere. She wore her dark hair long, and her green eyes never failed to dazzle him.
"What's the problem?" he asked while giving her a hug. He loved touching her, and whenever he could he reached for her if only to brush his hand on hers - or his lips. He loved her deeply and felt only pity for some men he knew who sought out women other than their wives for pleasure.
"We're running low on white wine," she said.
"I'll pop down to the liquor store and buy some more."
"Would you? If possible buy some already chilled. About four bottles should do it."
He gave her a quick kiss. "No problem."
When Scott returned, the driveway was blocked by another car. Groaning with irritation, he drove to the rear of his property so he wouldn't need to move his car until morning. He gathered the bags containing the wine he'd purchased and climbed from the car, pushing the door closed with his hip. It didn't close completely and barely made a sound. He set the bags down to open the gate, which swung wide silently. He had oiled the hinges the day before. Strolling through the gate, he elected to leave it open, too lazy to set the bags down again, but then he felt guilty. He returned and closed the gate. Manhandling the bags again, he moved across the lawn toward the side entrance of the house and suddenly noticed movement through the foliage, and then soft sounds - sounds of passion. He smiled. A couple of partygoers were making out in the gazebo, he assumed, and debated whether to continue around the foliage and interrupt them. He decided to peek around the bushes first. If they weren't too involved, he'd move by them without comment and pretend he had not seen them.
The woman was sitting astraddle the man's lap. They presented a side view, but in the dark Scott couldn't see their faces. They appeared dressed, but he was still indecisive, so he stopped and continued to watch until he could determine whether to move forward or not. The woman threw her head back and groaned softly.
She groans like Claire, Scott thought and smiled remembering how much he loved his wife's groans of pleasure. Peering through the leaves, he watched the woman rotate her hips. She's fucking him, he deduced. Studying the pair carefully, Scott noticed the man had his hands up under her skirt grasping her butt cheeks as he humped up at her. The tableau started to brighten as the moon crept out from behind a cloud.
Claire!
Scott's heart started to race. He abruptly felt completely empty as if all the blood had suddenly been drained from his body. His knees wobbled. Setting the bags to the grass before he dropped them, he tried to suck in oxygen silently as he peered through the foliage.
Josh! His neighbor and friend, Josh Whitten, was fucking his wife!
He felt numb. He tried to think but was so befuddled he could do nothing except gaze at his wife as she moved, pulling his friend's cock in and out of her cunt. He couldn't see where they joined. Claire's skirt covered them. She bent and mashed her mouth to her lover, and her hips sped up. Josh helped her using his large hands to lift and pull her down over him again.
Claire groaned softly and threw her head back. Scott watched as she shuddered through an orgasm, emitting sharp but still quiet sounds of pleasure. Josh grunted and pulled her tightly to him and his body jerked as he ejaculated.
Ejaculated inside my wife, Scott thought. He's coming inside her!
Claire collapsed on Josh's chest, and they cuddled briefly. They didn't speak, or kiss, merely held each other.
"I need to get back to the party, Josh," Claire said. "Scott should be back by now. I don't want him to come looking for me."
She pushed herself up off his lap, and Josh's erection bobbed in the dark, the moonlight reflecting off the bulbous head, shiny with his juices and hers. Scott noted he was large, an inch or two longer than him, he guessed, but not as thick. Claire reached to the deck of the gazebo and picked up her panties. Josh watched as she pulled them up over her gorgeous legs and let her skirt settle back around her hips.
"Meet me one day this week," Josh said.
"No. I don't want an affair, Josh." She strolled away without looking back.
Josh leaned his head back and sighed. With an evil smile, he pulled his pants up - they were down around his thighs - and fastened his belt. Scott's so-called friend lumbered to his feet and followed Claire inside, walking with a cocky spring to his steps.
In a matter of a few minutes, Scott Dillon's happy life had crashed down around him. Confused, not only because his wife had fucked another man but also because he suddenly realized he was erect, as hard as he had ever been. He sank to the grass and leaned against a tree. If anyone had told him Claire had been unfaithful or even capable of being unfaithful, he would have called the person a liar. His mouth opened and he sucked in the cold night air. His hands trembled, and his erection pushed painfully at front of his pants. The moon moved behind another cloud, and the black night surrounded him like a fog. He closed his eyes, and a tear rolled from one corner and slid silently down his cheek.
Was this the first time? Or had there been other times? Other men? Scott knew she had been a bit wild before he met her. She had admitted as much over the years, but he didn't consider her capable of the betrayal he had just witnessed. Why? Why had she betrayed him? Didn't he give her all the sex she needed? Did she need more than he offered? He couldn't remember refusing her, but then she rarely initiated their lovemaking. Perhaps she no longer loved him. She couldn't love him, not if she could fuck another man. Could she?
What should he do? Should he confront her? If he confronted her, would she deny or admit her infidelity? And other infidelities? With the loss of his naiveté, he realized if she could sneak out to the gazebo for a quick fuck with Josh, a man she didn't want to have an affair with, that surely there had been other times, other men.
And what did he want? Did he want a divorce? Did Claire? Too many questions, questions with no answers, especially with the state of his confused and stunned mind. He wiped the tear from his cheek. For the moment, he decided to ignore what he had seen. He needed answers to many questions before he could outline a course of action.
His erection had wilted, so he pushed himself to his feet and picked up the bags of wine. As he walked through the side entrance to the house, Claire turned toward him, and her eyes widened. Was she wondering if he had seen her with Josh? Now would be the time to confront her, he knew, now when she wondered if he knew her secret, but he wasn't prepared for a confrontation - not yet. He wanted some answers first.
"Someone blocked the driveway," Scott said calmly and placed the wine on the counter. "Two chilled and two warm, the best I could do."
