Yes, that's me. A member of that ever growing group of men whose wives stray on a regular basis. Helen and I have been married for several years and, right from the start, I knew that there was never going to be a way to stop her going with other Men. A strong woman, my wife, she knows what she wants and usually gets it. A little younger than myself, her 5ft 10 height and voluptuous figure make her an imposing sight. Her blonde hair, deep blue eyes and pretty face ensure that she is never short of male admirers.
Of course, I knew all this when I married her and so there would be no point in complaining even had I wanted to. But really I don't want to. The situation suits me just fine! At least, the situation did suit me just fine - recently, that situation has changed a little.
Ordinarily, I would be quite happy to wait for Helen to return from a night out on the town and then relate to me all the details of the man (or sometimes men) she'd picked up. I'd lie there in bed enthralled as she spared me no detail: the size of his manhood; where they had done it; the type of intercourse they had enjoyed - oral, anal, vaginal etc. - these were just some of my unasked questions that were so graphically answered.
But then one afternoon we had a huge row. I called her a slut and a whore (nasty, I know, but I thought a fair assessment!) And she inevitable retaliated citing my inaptitude in the bedroom.
"I know how to fuck!" I exclaimed, my pride stung painfully. "It's just difficult with a slut like you!"
"Don't you dare call me a slut!" She retaliated, "only men that can make me cum can call me a slut! When was the last time you performed well enough to give me an orgasm, you pathetic wimp?"
I was crushed. She'd hit the button that she knew would cause me the most pain. It was true of course, apart from me being "under average" in the size department, Helen had never climaxed with me. I doubted if any of the very few women I had been with had either. Helen could see she'd won the argument. Her voice became softer, more compassionate
"Look, I know its not entirely your fault, but you don't have to have a big dick to make a woman cum, you know?" As I looked at Helen, her face seemed to light up with an idea.
"I know," she continued, "what you need is to be shown how to fuck properly. And I think I know just the man!"
I was still mortified and didn't much like the direction in which this conversation was heading.
"I'm not about to go to a sex education class for anyone!" I yelled
"Phil, you're missing the point. Don't you want to make me happy?"
"Yes, of course I do, but -"
"No buts, no excuses. Let me organise this for us," Helen was calm and serene, almost whispering. "You already know I go with other men, I've never made a secret of it, have I? All I'm proposing is that, instead of me telling you what happened, you see for yourself and learn from it!"
There it was. Her idea laid out plain and simple: Watch her have sex with another man. Helen could see my hesitation and once again her voice returned to that of a harsh orator.
"You must do this, Philip. It's the only way to save our marriage. If you refuse, then I'm gone."
By the time that I realised my lack of choices, Helen was already dialling her latest lover's number.
The situation had been explained to Carl as clearly and succinctly as it had been explained to me and he was already on his way over. The butterflies in the pit of my stomach fluttered as I waited in the spare room, with Helen, for his arrival. To say that I was nervous would have been understating my feelings hugely. I found it difficult to keep still and kept crossing and uncrossing my legs as I sat in the high backed chair that had been arranged for me close to the bed. Helen, of course, was as calm and collected as always. She had prepared herself for Carl with a long, luxurious bath followed by the careful application of her make-up and the adornment of an expensive perfume. This completed, wearing only a pair of thong panties, she lay on the bed awaiting Carl's arrival.
"That's okay, Phil, you can look at my tits." she said as she noticed me staring at her heavy breasts. She had been idly circling the nipples with her fingers, leaving them perky and a little swollen
My heart nearly missed a beat when I heard the front door open and close. It seemed that Carl had his own key. A brief stab of jealousy stung me as I briefly wondered how many times my wife and her lover had made love in my house; in my home; probably in my bed!
Panic and bile rose in my throat as I listened to the heavy footfalls enter the lounge downstairs and the tinkle of glass as Carl obviously helped himself to my drinks cabinet.
"Undress down there, Carl," Helen called breaking the eerie silence, "Come to me naked, honey!"