Another little 'we need to talk' type story, so you can probably guess roughly where it will be going. Hope you enjoy the ride, but sorry, as usual, no graphic sex.
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"Dave," she mumbled. "We need to talk. There's something we need to sort out."
"Sure Gwen," I answered, glancing up at my wife with a grin. "What's up?"
"Put that bloody newspaper down for a moment and listen to me," she snapped, catching my attention, though in all honesty I was still rating Arsenal's chances against Chelsea that weekend. Let's be honest now, the newspaper was suggesting that maybe Walcott might not be fully fit after his knock last week.
"Yes dear," I relented, folding the paper in my lap, even though I kept a good hold onto it, hoping that she might not notice.
"Last Month," she stated simply, and stood there staring at me.
"What about it?" I replied in all innocence. "It was bloody hot."
"That week end," she went on.
"What week end?" I queried, though already I felt an unease flowing over me.
"You know damn well what week end," she spat out. "The week end when you and your damn three friends went off on that bloody, stupid, so called, fucking, invented, childish fishing trip."
"Oh that week end," I replied, limply, the newspaper falling from my hands. Chances were, I could be in trouble! "What about it?"
"I know!"
"You know what?" I squirmed.
"I know what you did," she stated, glaring at me.
"We went fishing," I flustered, somehow knowing that I was on a loser, but floundering for something to say.
"And the last evening," Gwen demanded, and I knew I was lost.
Fuck it!
I'm a partner in a small speciality building business. There's me, the so called brainy one with the qualifications, Ted who sorts the paperwork out, and Mike and Nick who provide the brawn and the on site know-how, and cajole our construction teams into doing what they have to do, faster and maybe better than they otherwise might.
We're a bit of a mixed bag but we get on fine and the four of us and our other halves have become pretty good friends.
Last August, the four of us guys had gone off on a long week end fishing trip, though in all honesty Ted was the only one who knew one end of a rod from the other. We floated around on some sort of boat, three of us more interested in keeping the beer cool than what bait we were using, and most evenings saw us downing pints, down at the local pub.
Then we got to the final night, didn't we!
"Let's go into town," suggested Mike. "There's a bit more life at the coast and we could have some fun."
"Not sure I'm feeling up to it," I protested, but I was over-ruled, and to be fair, I wasn't exactly that upset about it.
So there we were, all done up in our casual finery, and trying to act as we had when we'd been in our twenties a decade or more before. The beer was good and plentiful, the music loud and generally terrible, but the scenery pretty interesting.
"Bloody hell," growled Nick as a pretty slim little teenage girl flounced by us wearing a wisp of a mini skirt that she didn't ought to be bending over in, and an excuse for a top that covered her tits but otherwise did little to restrain them. "I wish I was ten years younger."
"More like fifteen," piped up Ted with a chuckle. "Even then you wouldn't get a look in."
"What about this one then," I interrupted them indicating yet another young girl who made the first one look almost overdressed, her shorts leaving the greater part of the cheeks of her bottom on display and her top fighting a potentially loosing battle to contain her plentiful and bountiful breasts, which were swaying around as she walked towards us and threatened to sway right out of her top.
"Damn!" exploded Ted.
"Double damn," Mike added. "Are them nipples real, or has she got some wine corks stuck on her tits?"
Nick and I simply glanced at one another and agreed with them. These young girls were out to enjoy themselves and were dressed to make sure that their clothes didn't get in the way.
Now probably nothing further would have happened, three of us being happily married and Mike, though single with a special girl back at home, but we hadn't allowed for the hen party.
Hen party?
Well sort of.
Yes the resort catered to all sorts and that very evening there was a group of four, thirty something girls right there celebrating one of them getting her divorce. Weren't even sure which one it was, as they all seemed to be wearing a wedding ring when they rolled up at our table and asked, no demanded, that they join us.
"Sure," Mike agreed, gathering a few chairs from the table next door, and none of us thought to argue.
"What are you four doing here then?" asked the big buxom blonde.
"Fishing," laughed back Mike, not offering any further explanation.
"Ok, so you've hooked me handsome," the blonde responded, quite blatantly lifting her top to flash her bare tits at us, but him in particular. "What are you going to do about it?"
To our surprise, but maybe not to hers, Mike promptly stood up, took her arm and wandered off with her, and that was the last that we saw of the pair of them that night.
"Trust Gloria," giggled the slim dark haired one. "She's such a slut."
"Mike's not married," pointed out Nick.
"Gloria's husband need never know," giggled the slightly overweight one, and that about set the tone for the rest of the night, as our conversation became more and more salacious and raunchy as the evening wore on.
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"Aren't any of you wearing a bra?" Nick demanded, his sixth, or was it his seventh beer having long since loosened his tongue.
"No bras and no panties," squealed back one of them. "We made a pact to go out for the night with no underwear."
"Prove it," challenged Ted, and bugger me if they didn't, all three of them, right there in front of us, and in the middle of that pub to boot.
"Do that again," called out Nick as the three of them, giggling like schoolgirls, pulled their short skirts back down.
"Come back to our hotel and we'll show you more than that," promised the redhead, probably the prettiest one of the bunch and the one that had been making up to me.
We refused of course.
Like hell we did.
Seven pints of best bitter did the talking, and with three pretty women with their tits hanging out and without a pair of panties between them decided the matter for us, and five minutes later we were paired off and strolling arm in arm with our chosen one back to their rather sleazy hotel ten minutes down the road.
"Look lads," I whispered to the other two when we had found ourselves alone when the girls went off to the toilet together. "We'll just stay half an hour or so -- OK?"
"Yes," agreed Ted. "Mess about a bit. A bit of slap and tickle and we'll be on our way."
"I'm with you there," Nick went along with us. "If my Jilly ever found out then she'd cut my dick off."
Seven pints of beer or thinking with our little brains, it didn't work out that way, and the early hours of the following morning found the three of us slinking guiltily away wishing like hell that we'd stuck to our promises. To be honest, wishing we'd never agreed to go fishing in the first place.
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"And the last evening?" Gwen demanded.
"What about it?" I played for time.
"Those four sluts you picked up?"
"Oh them."
"Yes them," she snapped at me. "Want to tell me about them?"
"Well Mike went off with one of them, Gwen," I tried to head her off, not knowing how much she actually knew, and not even dropping Mike into it as he wasn't actually married.
"And the redhead?" she questioned me and I knew there was no longer any point in trying to be evasive. Best to just come clean and hope for the best.
"We'd had too much to drink honey,' I relented. "I'm not denying something went on, but I don't remember too much."
"So you admit it," Gwen snarled angrily. "You went to bed with that redhead and fucked her all night long."
"That's not completely true," I replied honestly, trying to stay calm. "I did maybe mess around with her, but the state I was in, it was over and done with in a couple of minutes, and then we both dozed off."
"And the next morning?"
"No way," I protested, honestly. "When I woke up I felt awful about what had happened; ashamed of myself. Besides she didn't look nearly as attractive as she had the night before."
"Would it have made any difference if she had?" My wife quizzed me, her face an unreadable mask, and leaving me with an unenviable task. Should I give her the politically correct answer, or tell the truth.
I went with the latter.
"I'm not sure," I admitted quietly. "I'd like to think not. I doubt that I could have forgiven myself, Gwen, so I'm just glad I didn't."
"As it happens I believe you Dave," I was relieved to hear her say.
"Thanks honey," I smiled uncertainly at her. "We can get past this. We both love one another and have a great marriage. I'll do what it takes Gwen, honestly.
While I struggled for more words to plead my case she just stood there staring at me, till at last she broke the silence.
"Don't think you're getting off that lightly you bastard," Gwen informed me, her voice frighteningly calm and precise. "I'm meeting with the other girls this evening to discuss what we're going to do."
"They all know?"
"Of course they do you fool," she retorted, her temper flaring up again. "How the hell do you think I found out?"
"One of the guys spilled the beans?" I asked. "Which one? Who opened his mouth?"
"That's for us to know and you to worry about. I'm meeting up with Kim and Jilly and hopefully Mary, Mike's girlfriend. We're going out for a night on the town and we might be back late."
"For God's sake don't do anything silly Gwen," I pleaded. "Two wrongs don't make a right."
"We're not planning to, but who knows, and your opinion doesn't count any more. We're meeting to discuss what to do about you four and how to make you pay."
"Please don't do anything that we'll both regret Gwen," I begged her. "It won't help; anything but that."