The Computer Course

The first part of this story describes sexual activity between a middle aged husband and a younger man. It can be found in the Gay Male category.

THE COMPUTER COURSE -- AFTERMATH

I arrived home from work at the usual time and not seeing my wife around, I poked my head into the kitchen to be greeted by a most delicious aroma. Helen was busy tipping sliced vegetables into a pan.

"That smells good, and I'm famished" I said happily. "How long have I got before you serve it out?"

"I'm doing your favourite. I hope that you will still feel like eating when it is ready," she told me mysteriously.

"Half an hour?" I guessed the answer to my unanswered question. When confirmed that I had the usual leeway I went upstairs to switch on my PC. It had become my habit to spend this period checking on my E-mail. The normal pattern was disrupted when I found my screen saver flickering on the screen but I just assumed that I had forgotten to switch off the previous night.

However, on touching the mouse, I found that a file had been opened. The title blazed out at me -- 'The Computer Course'. I went cold all over because I knew for a fact that I had not accessed the file for over two weeks. A noise from the door made turn to see Helen casually leaning against the wall watching me. "Is it true?" she asked.

"No -- of course it isn't. I made it up. It's just a story," I blustered.

Helen nodded. "Just a story?"

"Yes -- just a story," I confirmed with what I hoped was a casual laugh.

"All the product of your imagination?"

I just nodded, congratulating myself on having weathered the storm.

"That does give rise to another question," she said quietly. "What inspired you to write such filth? How long have you been thinking about that kind of thing? Have you been a secret homosexual all of our marriage and finally felt driven to put your foetid fantasies into words?"

"No," I stammered answering only the last of her questions.

"There are only two alternatives. Either you have put a great deal of thought into doing that sort of thing or the story is true and it was something that just happened. I think the first is far worse."

"The story is true," I confessed.

"I am not going to ask any questions -- heaven knows, you have left little enough to ask. I'm going back downstairs, your dinner will be out in five minutes." At the door she paused and added, "Don't even consider deleting that file -- I have printed some copies whatever you do."

Glancing at the paper hopper of my printer with a feeling of despair, I estimated that there were now probably four hard copies of my shame in existence. During these few minutes of grace, I tried desperately to devise a strategy but the best I could manage was to keep my head down and be as obliging as possible until it all blew over.

At the dining table, Helen asked how I intended to spend the evening and I reminded her that the computer game I had ordered was amongst the items of that morning's postal delivery.

"If you think you are going to be playing with that then you have another think coming," she told me flatly. "I want you where I can see you -- not upstairs sending E-mails to your pervert friends and scanning the internet for pornography."

"Honest, I don't do that. I only want to tryout the game."

"Forget it because I have other plans for you. You are going to spend the evening doing all the house work that you have only pretended to do over the years."

"I'll do anything you say," I muttered humbly.

"You will if you want to stay married to me. The galling thing is that I have always been loyal to you and it has not always easy. When I think of the chances that I have had -- and with men whose prick is a damn sight bigger than yours."

"How do you know that?" I ventured foolishly.

"That's for me to know and you to worry about," she said smugly. I remained silent but Helen continued, "On second thoughts, if I leave it like that your devious mind will work out some justification for your gross behaviour. I can say that I have never done anything to be at all ashamed about."

As Helen had anticipated, my appetite had deserted me and I merely toyed with the food on my plate. Clearing the dishes she observed, "You should have made most of that because it is the last favourite meal or even hot food that I will prepare for you. In fact you are not going to get anything that you like for a very long time. I am going to really punish you. You are going to find out exactly how much your escapade has upset me."

As promised I spent the evening scrubbing and polishing, with my wife constantly checking that I had done it to her satisfaction. I wondered how long this purgatory would continue before I had expiated my sin -- or she became bored of punishing me. A week? a month? -- even then I realised I was getting off lightly because I had delivered perfect grounds for divorce.

In the bedroom later, instead of getting straight into bed, Helen put on a fashion show for herself, trying on the various items of erotic underwear that she had accumulated over the years, and admiring herself in the mirror. Just watching I became incredibly aroused. I just hovered, afraid that I was to be banished to the guest room and not daring to get into bed without permission. The finale came when she stood in front of me completely naked, cupped her breasts in her hands and jiggled them as if weighing a pair of melons, then observed. "Not bad, even though I say it myself. I'm sure that there must be some man somewhere who will still fancy them."

"I still fancy them. I fancy you as much as I ever did. Nothing has changed," I said eagerly.

"Hasn't it?" Her tone voice was ambiguous. It might have been uncertain as if needing reassurance or it might have contained an icy resolve.

I optimistically opted for the first interpretation. It was obvious -- she was afraid that I had become totally bent and needed to know that I still desired her as a woman -- hence the flaunting of her body in front of me. I smiled secretly to myself -- everything was going to be all right.

In bed I rolled to her and grasped her breast, seeking out the nipple between thumb and forefinger with the intention of working the old magic. "Take your filthy hands off me," she hissed. "I don't know where you've been." There was a pause and then said, "No -- the trouble is that I know exactly where you have been."

Severely chastened I lay silent. I continued lying like for along time until Helen's steady breathing suggested that she was asleep. My prick was still very stiff and it was beginning to ache intolerable. I started to stroke myself, not really masturbating, rather just seeking to ease the pain.

"Keep your hands off yourself as well," came a voice out of the darkness. "I very nearly made you wear gloves. I'm warning you -- if there is any more movement from your side of the bed, a wet patch on the sheet in the morning or even a suspicious stain, then you are out of here."

For the rest of the night I lay with hands clenched rigidly by my sides and it was almost dawn before I finally found sleep. The next day it was the same -- an evening of hard labour, a tantalising fashion show followed by a frustrated sleepless night. Following nights repeated the pattern until I was in a state of total torment. I tried lying on my stomach but had to constantly change position. "For God's sake lie still and let me get some sleep," Helen complained.

"I can't. My prick is killing me - it's agony. I am going to go crazy if I can't cum."

"All right -- if that is the only way I am going to get any peace."

"Thank you," I gasped rolling nearer to her. I did not think I would be allowed to fuck her but I hoped that she might help me.

Helen was quick to disillusion me. "I'm not touching the disgusting thing if that's what you think."

It didn't matter -- I had half expected this. I took hold of my throbbing member and gave a long sigh at the relief that just the touch of my hand afforded. "Not in the bed," she ordered. "I do not see why I should lie and listen to you abusing yourself. If you must do it then go and sit in the chair."

Panicking in case my wife changed her mind, I jumped out of bed and groped through the darkness until I found the chair. I leaned back with eyes closed anticipating the blessed relief to come - and then the light came on. Helen was lying watching me with dispassionate eyes. Despite this ultimate humiliation I had to choice but to persevere. Very quickly, a stream of spunk jetted from my cock, reaching almost to the bedroom door. Immediately the light went out again. "You can clean that mess up before you come back to bed," Helen ordered. It took me a long time crawling in the darkness, clutching a handful of tissue and feeling for the sticky trail, before I was confident that all evidence had been removed.

The next night on entering the bedroom, the first thing I saw was a gigantic vibrator lying on the bed. There was no show, Helen was obviously too keen to try her new toy for as soon as the light went out the buzzing started. "Just because you are being punished does not mean that I have to go without," she told me in justification.

A little while later, after a noisy orgasm, she said, "This really is nice and big. There must be a man somewhere with a dick this size." Then she laughed and added, "If we found one, I wonder who would want him most -- you or me?"

I endured the same thing for the next five nights with similar taunts but then I surrendered. As soon as I got home from work, I said, "I give in. I will do all the work that you say to make amends but I just can't stand the rest. At least let me move into the spare bedroom until I am forgiven. Haven't I suffered enough?"

"You haven't even started suffering. Anyway, how can I possibly forgive you when I don't understand why you did it. Explain."

"I can't explain because I don't understand it myself. I'm not gay. It just happened and I don't know why. It was something to do with Dave -- he is somehow special."

"If he is so special then I want to meet him."

"You can't"

"It's up to you. If I meet him then I might just understand. Anyway, there were two of you at it -- it is rather unfair that you should be the only one being punished."

That decided it. Even if it meant further hassle for me, I could not involve Dave in my wife's recriminations. "I can't get in touch with him. I do not know where he lives and I haven't got his telephone number."

"What about E-mail?"

"He might not even have a computer."

"Don't be stupid. He works for the same firm as you. Surely an organisation like that has an internal mail network."

"I shook my head. "I just can't do it," I said.

"Please yourself," Helen told me. "I have no intention of letting up on you until I have met him."

Next day at work I made contact. Helen had warned me not to let Dave know that the secret was discovered. It would have been difficult anyway for even the messages that I did send needed to be very circumspect -- the firm applied a very rigorous vetting policy on all telephone calls and internal mail. My message simply said: Need to see you re computer course applications. Alan.

The reply was even more succinct. 'Difficult.'

I sent back, 'Desperately important -- meet you half way' and was relieved to receive 'OK This Saturday, 2p.m.' naming a hotel in a town equidistant from our home cities. That evening I told Helen and she relaxed the pressure on me. During the nights to the weekend, there was still no sex but my hard labour was cancelled and a couple of nights I was allowed to try out my new game.

My wife insisted on ringing the hotel to make a reservation and when Saturday arrived, we drove down. We booked in and took a light lunch in the restaurant. When we had finished eating, I was instructed to stay in the bar for the next hour and not go back to the room until 2 p.m. This was better than I had hoped for because it gave me the chance to collar Dave when he arrived and warn him what was in store. I took one quick drink then lurked in sight of the car park entrance, looking constantly at my watch. I only needed him to arrive a couple of minutes early but was disappointed -- in fact I even risked running over for five minutes, so desperate was I for a quick word with my friend.

On returning to the room I was shocked by what found. Helen had changed into a dress that I had never seen before. It was very low cut and with an extremely short spit skirt. She was also wearing very high stiletto heeled shoes. The most extreme part of the outfit was her underwear -- if it deserved that name. It was easily visible through the slit as she moved and comprised little more than a thong over the crotch that seemed little thicker than a shoelace.

"What is this in aid of?" I asked.

"After reading your story, I thought I might need to look a bit sexy if I wanted to compete with your Mr Wonderful," she said and I had the distinct feeling that she was laughing at me.

"It's a bit over the top don't you think?" I said, trying to make my voice light to conceal an increased sense of unease.

"You're a model of decorum, I suppose."

I never did stand a chance with my wife when it came to verbal fencing so I decided my best chance of safety lay in silence. At that moment there was a quiet knock on the door. If that turned out to be my friend then I could not understand how I had possible missed him. Nevertheless I started to hurry towards the door when a cold voice snapped, "Stay where you are," and Helen strode past to do the honours.

The male outside started to speak but his voice died on seeing my wife and than he said, "I seem to have come to the wrong room."

"Dave, I presume," she said and I could tell from her voice that my wife had accompanied her words with a most alluring smile.

Helen stepped aside to let him enter and when Dave saw me his face broke into a wide lecherous smile and he rolled his eyes up towards the ceiling. It was obvious that he thought I had laid on a hooker for us to share. I spoke quickly to dispel this allusion. "Dave - can I introduce my wife Helen."

The smile died on my pal's face and his eyes flitted uneasily from side to side as he realised that he had walked into a situation. Helen laughed softly, "I know Dave. You're a bit confused because you didn't expect to find me here. Read this - I think it will explain far better than I can. Sit down, there is quite a lot of it." As she spoke, my wife handed him a printed copy of my incriminating story.

Rather bemused Dave started reading but at the bottom of the first page he stopped and looked accusingly at me. I could only meet his gaze for a moment before looking away. "Read on," Helen ordered. "I think you will agree with me that my multi-talented husband has quite a flair for description. He makes you feel as if you were there - but then of course, you were."

Not wanting to look at me and not daring to look at my wife, Dave returned his attention to the printed sheets. Where he had scanned the first page quickly, he now seemed to read extremely slowly. I went to the other armchair, deciding that I would rather feel less awkward sitting than standing. Helen lit a cigarette and continued to pace backwards and forwards a few paces in front of him. Eventually he finished reading only to start tapping the pages back into perfect alignment on his knee. My wife stopped this activity by holding out her hand and this gave my friend the opportunity to glance again at me. Without the need for words his eyes plainly sent the message ' You stupid bugger'.

Helen stepped closer to him and said seductively, "Don't worry Dave, I'm not upset at you. I only want to clarify some details from my husband's very explicit story. Would you stand up for a moment." He had no choice but to oblige and they finished standing face to face with less than an inch separating my wife's thrusting tits from his chest. Looking up into his face she said innocently, "Alan claims that your cock is like that of a Greek God - is that true?" Then, without giving chance for him to answer she reached out to cup his genitals and give them a gentle squeeze.

Dave looked around wildly - but not at me. I was a bit put out seeing my wife touch a man in that area even through the thickness of his trousers but at the same time I was glad it was his turn to be tormented instead of me. But her next actions shocked me to the core. "I agree - you do feel pretty substantial in that department but I do need a visual check." As she spoke, without waiting for any reaction from her victim, Helen undid his belt and then pulled down the zip allowing his trousers to fall around his ankles. Possibly because he had expected to find me alone, he had neglected to wear underpants and now his cock sprang up in full erect glory.

Without hesitation, she reached out to grasp and then run her hands silkily up and down the shaft.

I was watching the petrified expression on my friend's face and was startled to find my wife looking over her shoulder at me. "You were right my darling. It really is beautiful," she said. "I can fully understand now why you couldn't resist the temptation to put it in your mouth."

I sat frozen in disbelief as she mimicked exactly everything that I had described, then parted those luscious lips that only belonged to me and took his throbbing cock deep inside her mouth. OK - so she had made the gesture, punished me but surely enough was enough, she couldn't possibly be planning to go through with it. I had quite forgotten my own words, that having started to suck his gorgeous cock I had found it quite impossible to stop. With mounting horror and a twisted feeling growing in my gut, I watched her working on his penis with an enthusiasm that she had never shown with me. Despite the horror, despite the jealousy I realised that part of the physical distress was due to my own prick being agonisingly stiff.

Dave was standing almost immobile, eyes closed and head tilted towards the ceiling but it was obvious that he did not know what to do with his hands. Time seemed to stand still as, with pounding heart, I watched the blow-job carried to its inevitable conclusion. With Dave moaning and my wife's throat gulping, the weeks of frustration combined with the trauma of watching my faithful wife happily swallowing another mans cum, caused me to deposit a pool of semen on the inside of my pants.

Helen stood and turned towards me. There was spunk coated all round her mouth with on strand dangling from her chin. There was a look of defiance in her eyes as she started to walk in my direction. For one dreadful moment I thought that she intended to kiss me but instead she bent down to snap open her handbag and extract a tissue, which she used to clean up her face. I could not believe what I had just witnessed. My faithful wife for more than a score of years had just fellated another man - an action that she had not done to me for longer than I could remember and then only as part of mutual oral sex. To be more exact, I doubted if she had actually swallowed my cum more than three times during the whole of the marriage - and if I remembered correctly, all of those times were before we actually tied the knot. My wife had administered a pretty harsh punishment for my misdemeanour but I consoled myself with the thought that this had got to wipe the slate clean and restore normal marital relations.

My friend had turned sideways and was rather shamefacedly trying to push his prick back inside his pants. "Don't bother Davey boy, you and I are going to take a shower," Helen told him cheerfully. "I'm sure that is the next thing on the agenda."

"But.." Dave started to protest. I think he was as anxious to escape as I was to see him leave.