The Douche Valve Kit

Whenever I, Dale Curtain, read stories on porn sites, or real life situations reported in sensational press accounts, about a husband or wife being clueless about their spouse's extracurricular activities I snicker to myself. "They must be the least observant people in the world, or simply don't care," I would always say to myself, sometimes laughing out loud and causing my wife Haley to ask "What's so funny Dale?" My standard response is "Life and people are strange," but I never told her what the subject of the story or article was. If she inquired further I made something up like "Some guy invented vacuum shoes and he got stuck on his roof for five hours," or "some anthropologists say that Cleopatra wasn't Egyptian," or "a guy who was moving called a tree service to place his cat with since they had 'Cat Rescue' as one of their services on their website," all either made up or some trivia that I learned long ago. I was never sure why I didn't tell her the real reason why I was laughing.

Haley and I met in college and got married shortly after I got my MBA and she graduated undergraduate school with a degree in finance. It was basically a standard courtship except for one thing -- as soon as we got serious she told me that she never wanted to have kids.

"Why?" I asked.

"First of all I don't really like kids, secondly they ravage your body, and third I enjoy the freedom to do what I want without being tied down to them," she replied.

I made all of the arguments about why kids are great, how they enrich your life, yada, yada, yada, but that had no effect on her. I had to make a decision then to give up my plan to have two or three little rug rats and devote myself to Haley, or breakup right then. Since I really enjoyed Haley's company and since she was a sexual dynamo, I eventually chose her.

Choosing Haley was not without problems, however; she was so scared of accidentally getting pregnant for a while we used several forms of birth control because she (and her entire family) was as anti-abortion as she was anti-kid -- go figure! Finally, just before we got married she found a birth control pill that she called "Rollo" that was supposedly 100% effective, and had no side effects for her, so from then on we only relied on the Rollo pills and we were as sexually satisfied as bonobos.

***********

When Haley turned 30 she suddenly decided that she needed to be in better shape; I thought that she was already in great shape, and certainly not more than a couple of pounds over her wedding day weight, but she started a rigorous exercise program. She went to the gym on Monday and Wednesday at noon, ran Friday morning, and went to the gym again on Saturday morning. She was as regular as clockwork unless she or both of us were out of town. I sometimes went with her to the gym on Saturday morning and found it a pleasant experience.

One side effect of her exercise regime was that her libido -- which had been normal since I met her -- increased significantly, as well as her energy when we were fucking or making love (which we naturally seemed to alternate between). Obviously I had NO complaints with that since my libido had usually been slightly higher than hers before she began her exercise regime. My sex life was great.

About three months into her exercise regime her 31st birthday was coming up and since she didn't like surprises I asked her what she wanted. Her answer surprised me.

"I want to install a douche valve kit in our master bathroom shower stall," she smiled.

"What the fuck?" was my surprised -- not angry -- response because I had never heard of a "douche valve kit" before.

Haley carefully explained to me that more and more she liked having a clean pussy and that normal showers just didn't do it for her, and buying one-time use douche bottles or bags was wasteful and unpleasant, and she sometimes forgot about them. Since she showered every day she wouldn't forget to douche if there were a douche valve in the shower stall and it would be easier. "Plus, you really like eating my pussy, don't you Dale, and if it's nice and clean you'd eat it even more, which would make me happier, and then make you happier, and so on, and so on," she cackled.

Anxious to please -- and yeah, I did like eating her pussy -- I asked her what specifically she was interested in. Not surprisingly an advertisement attached to an email from haleycurtian@... just "happened" to appear in my folder the next day.

The only thing about the ad that surprised me was the cost; it obviously was a high class unit, but it also needed to be installed by a plumber (I'm handy around the house but do NOT do electrical or plumbing -- too much of a chance for a disaster). The high class unit alone cost $520, and by calling and negotiating a deal with our normal plumber it still cost $275 for installation. Having Haley happy was worth it, though.

I had the plumber do the installation two days before her birthday when she was at work and I took a morning off to be at the house, so it was ready when she got home. She was thrilled, and after she used it that night before she came to bed she put a little strawberry syrup on the insides of her pussy lips, spread her legs as she lay on our bed naked, and gave me a come-hither smile and wag of her finger.

That night was the best male-on-female oral of both of our lives; she came twice with the power of a stick of dynamite. When I fucked her afterward my dick felt like it was porn star big and hard (just an illusion, but so what) and our synchronous orgasms were so powerful that it was the first time in our experience that we both blacked out for a short period of time.

As we fell asleep with her head on my shoulder and she mumbled "I love you," before I transitioned to dreamland the last thought to cross my mind was "So what if the douche valve it cost almost $800 -- this night alone was worth ten times that!"

**************

The only way that I can rationalize my lack of observancy over the next several months is to concede that my brain wasn't functioning normally because of the all-time great sex with Haley. After the first few nights Haley used her douche valve attachment only after we had sex, whether it be the next morning or if we had sex in the middle of the day after that. Her gynecologist told her that it was not good to overuse it, and since after the first few times she really only wanted to use it to clean out seminal fluid, she restricted herself to that.

Normally Haley would get up early on Friday, give me a kiss and make sure that I was up, do her run, get ready for work, and then go in herself. She usually had a long run and I get ready quickly because I don't eat breakfast and I'm wide awake as soon as I pop out of bed, so I was never home when she got back from her run. On a Friday about two-three months after we had the douche valve kit installed, however, I had an overseas call that would probably last a long time, so I decided to just do it from home.

The overseas call -- and then follow-ups with other people in my company at various locations -- took a long time. I believe it was well over two hours before I was finished and just as I started to walk through the kitchen to my car Haley came into the kitchen from our side door. She was really surprised to see me. "Dale, why are you still here?"

"Oh, I had some calls I had to make so I thought that I'd just do them from home. I see that you're pitted out -- but not as sweaty as I thought that you'd be."

"I always do a cool-down walk; but you should see me on really hot days," she smiled in response.

Something about her smile didn't sit right with me.

As I opened the garage door and got into my car I got suspicious. I really didn't have good cause to be suspicious -- except that her run took well over two hours, she was more nervous about seeing me than I would have expected, and while she was sweaty she was more flushed than sweaty and it was a hot day even if not "a really hot day."

While Ronald Reagan is often attributed as coining the phrase "trust but verify," ironically the first known use of it was by Vladimir Lenin. Regardless of who said it first, I subscribe to it. I waited in my car a block away from our house in the opposite direction that Haley would use to go into work, and when I saw her car leave I drove back home.

I wasn't sure what I could find that would tip me off as to what she had done, but two things piqued my interest. First, the workout clothes that she had worn -- shorts, top, socks, bra -- and panties -- were already churning away in the washing machine. Second, there was no evidence in our bedroom but when I looked in the master bathroom shower stall the douche valve was in a different position. It has two off positions, one a right turn from fully on, and the second a left turn from fully on. I was certain that it was in the right turn position when I showered the previous evening and we hadn't had sex then. It was now in the left turn position.

Obviously those two factors -- even assuming that I was completely correct about the second one even though I could have been mistaken -- wouldn't hold up in a court of law, but they were enough for me to go into "verify" mode.

**********

Nothing changed in our house the next two weeks; except that when I woke up the next Friday morning after my suspicions were aroused I raced to get dressed, got on my bicycle and followed Haley. Fortunately she wasn't out of sight when I got outside and my bike was positioned ready to go. I followed her discretely a block away. She ran at a decent pace -- she really was in good shape -- for about a mile (1600 meters), maybe a little more, and then ran up a driveway to the back of a large house. I wasn't fast enough -- given how far behind her I stayed to make sure that she didn't see me -- to see her actually enter the back door of that house, but I was able to confirm that she was in it by peeking in the window in what looked like a den in the back of the house. I saw Haley there with a tall guy who looked like a college kid -- maybe 19 or 20 years old. They were either wrestling (doubtful), dancing (also doubtful), or in the initial phases of having sex (likely). They disappeared below my line of sight after a couple of minutes so I left.

When I got home I not only checked the position of the douche valve but put a thin piece off tape on it. If the valve were moved the tape would be detached.

Haley's washed running clothes were wet still in the washing machine when I got home, and the tape was broken on the douche valve.

I quickly learned who lived in the mini-mansion that Haley had visited. It was owned by Harold and Vivian Foster. From the deep dive that I had a PI do I found that out Harold and Vivian had basically a marriage of convenience. They essentially lived separate lives, except when they appeared in public together at various events. Harold was the chair of the county commissioners in the county that our town was located in, and Vivian was a hot shot high profile lawyer.

Harold and Vivian had two kids; a younger son Sean who was 18 years old and apparently very smart since he was a freshman at Princeton, and a 20 year old older son Winston who went to the small college a few towns over from us and came home every Thursday night since most of his friends were still in his home town. Vivian must have had Winston when she was a teenager because she looked young in the recent photo that the PI scared up.

The next Friday I was ready. I told Haley that I was out of town Thursday night and first thing Friday morning -- as soon as Harold and Vivian were gone and Winston unlocked the back door for Haley -- I snuck into the Foster house and planted two mini battery operated cameras in the den, hoping that that was where they always had their liaisons.

After a flushed Haley left the Foster's House Winston obviously went upstairs to shower. He had locked the back door, but hadn't set the alarm, so I broke a window in the back door, went in, removed the cameras, and left.

************

The question was what to do now. I'm not the cuckold type; I seek revenge when I'm wronged; but I don't go off half-cocked. I had to think carefully about what to do.

Even though I continued to have sex with Haley -- I no longer made love to her, but she was a great fuck and there was no reason why I should go without while she was fucking around on me -- I started noticing more details about her dealings with me. I noted a low level of disrespect that had seeped into her interactions with me. It was probably due to the fact that she had "put one over" on me. That angered me almost as much as her cheating.

Then an absolutely diabolical plan hit me. It was outrageous, over-the-top, insane, and probably immoral and illegal, but once it seeped into my brain it was like a boulder rolling down a mountain -- it couldn't be stopped.

I found a disgraced pharmacist who was out on bail and whose trial wouldn't start for a few more months. He was immoral and hard-up for cash so he was easy to convince to provide me with the information I needed. After a payment of just $1500 -- which he needed for his legal defense -- he gave me a good supply of St. John's Wort, and how to use it to render birth control pills ineffective.

For another $1500 the pharmacist got me an experimental drug called TDI-11861 which is an effective male contraceptive as indicated by a juried article published by Cornell Medical School in Nature Communications on February 14, 2023. TDI-11861 hadn't been approved by the FDA, although the developers noted no adverse side effects, but I didn't mind being a guinea pig for a good cause.

The very night I got the drugs from the pharmacist I started spiking Haley's food and drink with St. John's Wort and taking TDI-1181 myself. I was a little worried that Haley's douching might flush out Winston's sperm but after reading a dozen articles on the subject I found that douching was ineffective for birth control unless it was done within a couple of minutes after intercourse -- and Haley still had to run a mile home after riding Winston's cock and cuddling (which is what my video showed).

************

It didn't take long -- it was only about two months -- before Haley threw up one morning. During those two months whenever Haley showed some sign of disrespect I merely smiled inwardly. As soon as Haley threw up the first morning I called her mother and told her that I thought that Haley was pregnant -- Haley refused to admit it herself. Her mother was there by the next evening.

It was her mother that insisted on the drug store pregnancy test -- actually two of them. One showed a big "+" sign, the other double vertical lines. Haley and her mother went to a clinic the next day -- after Haley threw up again -- and the doctor's test confirmed that she was pregnant.

Having her mother with her insured that even though Haley had always been anti-abortion, she would remain so.

I immediately stopped taking TDI-11861 as soon as I found out that Haley was pregnant.

After the pregnancy confirmation by the doctor I got snippy. I told Haley that I had gotten a "temporary vasectomy" (there is no such thing) and even showed her a medical form I had manufactured to that effect and demanded to know who she had been fucking.

It took Haley a week of both her mother and me beating on her before she identified Winston Foster as the possible father. We immediately went to court to get a paternity test ordered. Despite Vivian's complaint the judge allowed it when Haley filed an affidavit reporting her sexual hookups with Winston. Of course Winston was determined to be the father.

I didn't use the video I had of Winston and Haley fucking; that was just a backup plan after I came up with my get-her-pregnant scheme.

I kicked Haley out of the house so she went to live with her parents. I also filed an alienation of affection case against Winston (it probably would go nowhere in our state but there was no appellate court decision definitively wiping it out), and made it known that I was about to go public with the information.

Fortunately I did not jump the gun on going public with the information.

Shortly after I sued Winston and let the steps I was going to take to publicize it be known, my doorbell rang at 10:00 p. m. on a Thursday. When I answered the door it was Vivian Foster.

Vivian Foster is not a fuzzy, cuddly, woman. Her public persona is that of a tough bitch, and many people who litigate against her consider her an Orca in the courtroom. However, even though many males who know her despise her they would love to fuck her.

Vivian rocks a business suit jacket and skirt, and blouse, as well as any 39 year old (her real age at the time; I was 32) in a four state area. Her firm round butt and sculptured thighs would probably give some older men heart attacks; if not her big rack and slim waist might. While her face isn't classically beautiful -- it is too stern for that -- there is no arguing with the fact that she is exotic looking and has an intriguing bone structure. While she had to know that I knew who she was she felt obligated to introduce herself.

"Mr. Curtain; I'm Vivian Foster, Winston's mother. Do you mind if I come in?"

"Certainly not, Mrs. Foster; please come in. May I take your cape?"

"Thank you," she said as I gently but leisurely removed the cape from her shoulders. "May I get you something to drink?"

She looked a little perplexed, and not being one to hide what she is thinking said "I'm surprised that you're as cordial as you are, Mr. Curtain. Yes, I'd love some Drambuie if you have any."

"I certainly do Mrs. Foster; and there's no reason for me not to be pleasant and cordial to you. You have done nothing to wrong me, Mrs. Foster. Your above-the-age of majority son and my wife are the only people who have wronged me," I said with a smile. "Please have a seat while I get you a drink and one for myself."

I got myself a club soda but made it up to look like a vodka tonic, and I gave her a very generous pour of Drambuie.

We sat facing each other in my living room just talking generally, first about a couple of art pieces I had in my living room that I was very proud of and only was able to afford because I caught the artist at a bad time in her life and before she became really famous, and we talked about Vivian's work -- although I only called her Mrs. Foster and she only called me Mr. Curtain and neither of us offered to be called by our first names.

When talking with Vivian I made no attempt to hide the fact that I appreciated her appearance -- especially her long sculptured legs, which she continuously crossed, and re-crossed, pausing a short period of time before each re-cross to provide a view of her thighs and maybe even a brief camel toe sighting.

Finally after about twenty minutes of chit-chat -- and one refill of our drinks -- and once she had fully established that I was intrigued by her physical appearance she got to the point.

"Mr. Curtain I truly would love to solve the problem my son has caused you -- or at least minimize its effect on you. I'm sure that you can understand that while he made an enormous mistake in having an affair with your wife that I need to do whatever I can to protect him. I was hoping three things; that you might see fit to drop your suit against him, talk your wife into not having him named as the father on the birth certificate, and keep everything out of the public eye as much as possible," she said, staring into my soul with her eyes that were the color of the bluest water in my experience.

"Mrs. Foster, I hope you understand that your son's activities have caused a great disruption of my life. I used to have loving sex with my wife six or seven times a week," an exaggeration but it had the desired effect of raising Vivian's eyebrows, "and now I am deprived of female companionship. It's driving me crazy. Plus unfortunately I am not a nice and forgiving man; I am having great angst in dealing with my situation."