The Adulterer

'You fucked my wife.'

I wondered when he'd find out.

He was bound to, sooner or later, I suppose. But I always thought, safety in numbers, right? I mean,

everybody

fucked his wife.

It's not like we had an affair or anything. We just had a fuck. Didn't really last long enough to be worthy of the name. But that's not an excuse, is it. When he's accusing me. I just put it in, wiggled it around, spunked up her and pulled it out. All over in a couple of minutes.

Wasn't in her long enough to make a lasting impression. Doubt if she even remembers what my cock felt like. So don't be too harsh on her.

I can still remember what her pussy was like though. So hot I thought she was on fire inside. And wet? Never knew a girl who was so slippery between the legs. I wanked over her for years afterwards, remembering that feeling, my cock inside her body, slithering around in her juices. Jeez, it's making me hard again now. That's what she was like.

I expect you know that, though, don't you.

But I guess you can be harsh on me. It had lasting effect on me all right.

If that's what husbands get angry about. If it's the effect more than the deed that splits people up.

I mean, loads of married women get the hots for another guy. Most won't ever say anything. They just ooze in their knickers, maybe have a little fingering session when they're alone. If they get it bad they may have lots of sessions. But technically they're not being unfaithful, until there's some kind of sexual contact.

Find me a woman in her prime who hasn't wet herself thinking of Robbie Williams or Ricky Wilson, hasn't fingered and cum thinking of Gary Barlow's cock in her pussy. Impossible, right. But hardly unfaithful.

A snatched kiss when no-one's looking? Is that infidelity? It's not divorce, is it? A kiss and a grope. Technically, she's holding his cock if she never unzips him, but it's not

adultery

, is it.

He might get a finger in her, if her skirt is short enough, and let's be honest, some of the stuff your wife used to wear couldn't be described as dresses or skirts, could it? A decorative border, maybe. Anyone could touch her if they wanted to. And a lot did, either in passing, hello, how are you, is it okay if I slip a finger in you as long as I whip it out before your husband sees me -- or in a dark corner, with a tongue in her mouth and two fingers in her pussy.

Amazing little pussy. So hot and wet. I know I keep repeating myself, but it really was extraordinary. But tight, so you really had to

push

that first finger into her. Everybody said so. But your cock just slipped in, whoosh, all the way up inside her with one push

Now that's infidelity, and possibly divorce, I admit. But only possibly.

Modern times, right? Lots of couple forgive a momentary slip-up, even when it's a cock slipping up a pussy.

A long-running affair is something else, That's it, marriage over.

I didn't have that.

I just had that one moment of delight. She seemed to like it too. Even though it wasn't long enough to make her cum. But in the circumstances she can't really have expected it, right? Not like that.

Point is, you'd hardly divorce her on the basis of what I did with her, the quickest quickie of all time.

But I was part of her long-running affair with the entire world. She had sex with other guys so often I truly think she qualifies as a nympho. Experts say that word is meaningless. No such thing exists.

All I can say is they never met your wife.

Sorry and all that chap, but honestly, she was mad for it, like it was a drug, or she was drugged. Does female Viagra exist? No, because there's no need for it. But if it did, that's what it would be like.

Hello, what's your name, fancy a fuck?

Or, hello, I'm horny, take me outside and fuck me.

She did that so often it stopped being shocking

The truly shocking thing was that you never noticed.

I mean, everyone knew,

everyone

. And everyone fucked her. If a guy hadn't fucked your wife everyone assumed he was gay. But you didn't realise. What were you doing for 10 years? Are you stupid or did you just let her get on with it?

Did you know, all that time, and pretend not to?

It never seemed that way.

You were a happy cuckold. Ignorance is bliss and all that.

Bliss for the rest of us was up your wife's skirt and in her knickers.

Here's a thing. Hardly anyone I know fucked her in a bedroom, or lying down. She didn't have affairs. She had fucks. Hundreds and hundreds of fucks, in all kinds of different places.

Lucky for me she wasn't expecting anything more than a quickie. In the circumstances. So the fact that it was all over so fast wasn't embarrassing. It was essential, really.

Oh, I'd have loved to fuck her properly. If we'd had a bit more time. Who wouldn't. She was slim, pretty, funny and smouldering. You could tell she liked a fuck even before you spoke to her. Once she looked you in the eyes you knew she wanted you. It was just a question of timing.

I know, I know, she looked at everyone that way. But I think she genuinely did want to fuck everyone. If you were a guy, she wanted your cock, and you knew.

Knew that she was going to fuck you, someday, somehow.

But I'd have cum just as fast if we'd gone to bed, with all the time in the world. Quicker, maybe, with a bit more kissing and touching. I bet she looked like one of the world's leading supermodels lying around in her exotic lingerie. Stockings, of course, and little wisps of lingerie. Touching herself, perhaps, while she waited for me to undress. A finger slithering around on all that expensive underwear. Wet underwear. Clingy wet underwear. Transparent now, as she teased her lips through the material.

I'd probably have spunked up the wall before I reached the bed.

Definitely wouldn't have lasted any longer with my cock in her. Although she wouldn't have had to wait for round two. Body like that, I'd have been hard again in a couple of minutes. Ten years ago, almost, so I was much younger then.

I was one of the first.

She didn't have confetti in her hair, or anything, but you weren't really established as a married couple either. But even I knew I wasn't

the

first.

She'd already fucked all of us, all your mates, long before I slipped my grubby hand up her skirt. She asked me to, mind, invited me to have her. It's not like I propositioned her first. I wouldn't have done that to a friend. But when a woman tells you to fuck her, it's hard to refuse. Especially when she looks as gorgeous and horny as your wife.

We'd all talked about it, when you started dating. It was just boys talk then, a horny fantasy hidden under the jokes, wondering if she had a full shave or a landing strip? Pretty little pussy, or full lips? Did she swallow? Or even suck?

Then you got married, and something changed. Some of the guys just stopped playing the game, stopped joining in. Never really noticed until I met a guy who worked in her office. He said he'd fucked her. Just casually, like he was saying oh yes I went to the pub with her. Except he fucked her.

I must have looked surprised.

'We all have,' he said.

By all he meant everyone she worked with.

She was a bit of a legend for going off into the stock cupboard with guys. Really. Such a corny old joke, but that's what she did. Leaned back against the wall and pulled up her skirt. Sometimes knickers, sometimes commando.

Knickerless meant you weren't the first.

She always took them off before a fuck. Saving them for later, she'd say. So she could go home to hubby all clean and tidy, she said.

It's not the kind of secret you can keep to yourself, is it?

I had to tell the guys, and most of them called me a liar, or the bloke she worked with a liar. But a couple of the quiet ones stayed even quieter. Except one.

'It's true,' he said. 'I fucked her. Exactly the same way. Not in the stock cupboard at work. But here.'

We were in the pub, so that sounded unlikely.

'She was next to me at that table over there,' and he pointed to it, 'and as she got up to go to the Ladies she whispered in my ear. Follow me, she said, and squeezed my cock, one hand under the table. None of you noticed. So I followed her.'

And?

'She went outside and bent over a car bonnet, just like that. Pulled up her skirt and said fuck me. So I did, obviously.'

Obviously.

We all agreed we would have done the same. Most of us asked what it was like.

'Amazing. She was all wet and ready, and so excited she started cumming as soon as I was in her.'

But there was a reason she was so excited. Bent over the car bonnet that way, she could see in through the pub window.

'Looking him in the eye she was, while she fucked me.'

Him being you. The hubby. She deliberately stood where she could see you while she did it. And it made her cum pretty much instantaneously. As if the idea excited her more than the deed.

'She did that to me.'

The second of the quiet ones had spoken up.

'Not outside a pub though. In the bathroom at your flat.'

He was looking at me.

'My flat?'

'New Year's Eve.' We met at yours before we went out.'

We did indeed. But only for an hour or so. Though it was pretty crowded. A guy and a girl could go missing and nobody would notice for a few minutes. And apparently that was all she wanted. A few minutes. In and out a few times, spurt, spurt, spurt, and finish. Which, according to quiet one #2, was all she got.

'I just went to the bathroom and there she was, sat on the loo with her knickers round her knees. I said sorry, and started to back out.'

'I wondered who it would be,' she said.

'Sorry?'

'I left the door unlocked deliberately. I just didn't know who would come in. You can lock it now.'

She stood up, lifting her skirt as she turned round to bend over the washbasin.

'Hurry up.'

'Her pussy wasn't just on offer, it was aiming at me, waiting impatiently.'

'Are you going to fuck me or not,' she asked.

What's chap supposed to do?

Same as all the other chaps have done, before and since, of course.

It's not an excuse, I know. Being one of many.

But that's what we all told ourselves. And each other. So we all knew who had fucked her. It was like a club. Membership open to all. Just wait your turn to be invited in.

'How did you get yours,' he asked. Not angry. Scornful.

'The 02.'

He looked puzzled.

'Miley Cyrus, remember?'

His frown lifted. 'I thought you were going to say Westlife. She already had someone at Westlife, so you would have been her second. Or he would.'

'It would have been me for sure. Who was second, I mean.'

'How do you know that?'

'It wasn't

at

the 02, it was afterwards.'

'Afterwards?'

'On the train.'

His eyebrow went through the roof. Then he remembered the DLR journey across town, so many revellers on board we were packed in tighter than the commuters were in rush hour. Couldn't move. Could hardly breathe. And almost stopped completely when I felt her unzip me.

It had to be her because I was right behind her, pressed up so close her body wriggled against me as the train jumped and jolted. Maybe that's what started her off. Whatever. She pulled my cock out and as the train went over a bump she lifted herself over it so it was sticking up under her skirt. I could feel her pussy, all hot and wet where the tip was touching it. One more jolt, and in it went. I didn't need to move a muscle. The swaying train carriage fucked her gently with my cock, fucked me gently with her pussy.

One more jolt and off I went, spraying away like a hose.

I didn't tell him, not like that.

'She just got my cock out and sat back on it. Hundred per cent honest, we were so jammed in I doubt I could have stopped her if I'd wanted to.'

But I didn't and I didn't.

'She was talking to you the whole time,' I reminded him, as if painting her in a bad light would shine a good one on me.

He was one body removed from us, looking at her from 45 degrees, and talking about which bar we should go to when we reached the West End. She only gasped when the train jolted, and nobody would have guessed she had my cock in her. Especially since it was only there for a couple of minutes max.

He didn't really remember the journey, or where he stood in relation to us, or the conversation he had with his wife. Why should he? it was just a quick ride on a train. I was the one having a quick ride in his wife, with every detail of what happened seared into my memory. Instant recall even now, a decade later, or whatever.

'When did you find out?'

'About you, or about the rest of them? The whole thing?'

'Both, I guess.'

'More or less caught her in the act. Then I hired a detective, and found out she was shagging on an industrial scale. That was a couple of years ago.'

He looked at me for a moment like a man who was going to kiss me or kill me. Men don't kiss much, do they.

'I didn't know about you until you told me just now. Not for sure, anyway. But I thought it was worth asking. Because of the others.'

'What are you going to do now?'

He smiled, and pulled his phone out pf his pocket, fingers flickering on the glowing screen.

'She fucked so many people there's no point in trying to get revenge, or even being angry about it. Except you guys. You were my friends. That's different. And you're a small enough target for me to be angry with. Nine of you, in all. This was the ninth.'

He waved the phone in the air

'Now I've got this, I can do

this

,' and he pressed some more buttons.

'There. I've sent nine different recordings -- confessions,' he corrected himself, 'to nine different women. How you explain to your wife about what you did with my wife is up to you. Same for the other eight. And if any of you happen to see my

ex

-wife again, tell her she's not the only one who can play detective,' and he pocketed his phone.