This story has very little sex. Please be forewarned.
*
Neil always recollected how, on that Thursday evening, even before he'd known how his fate had already changed, he'd sensed the transformation as he walked in the door.
Esther's auto was parked outside in the short driveway as he approached their urban home, and so he parked on the street, tightly packed between a Chevy and a Honda, and limped across the street, up the three wooden steps to his porch and then four paces to the front door. Strangely, it was locked. Could it be that Esther had walked to visit a neighbor? Unlikely, it had been a running battle all through their thirty-two years of togetherness; Esther simply didn't lock the door unless she was going someplace in her automobile.
The foyer was dim, the only luminescence entering the room from the street light through the curtained window, the first floor felt empty, and a brief foray on his injured ankle showed him nothing to disprove his initial perception. Damn that hurt, he thought as he stepped on a threshold between the den and the downstairs toilet. He'd really wrenched his leg when he'd fallen three feet off the ladder. The boss wanted to take him to the Emergency Room, but he'd resisted, and they'd made him go home to rest the leg. It was the first time he'd ever taken any unplanned time off in over a year and a half working part time for the store in the mall. Neil grabbed two Advils from the medicine chest, popped them into his mouth and drew a glass of water from the tap.
Where could Esther be? This seemed so unlike her. He turned a light on in the den, began to sift through the day's mail. Maybe she'd gone out with a girlfriend who'd picked her up, he considered, maybe . . . Suddenly, he heard three abrupt bumps, apparently from the second floor, and then he thought he heard his wife's giggle, faintly, from a distance. Almost he called out, "Esther?" but then - he never comprehended why not - he resisted the impulse and remained mute. He stood still, attempting to discern if his senses were playing a trick on him in the empty house, and half a minute later, there were more bumps, as if someone was steadily hammering a piece of wood against a wall. This required investigation.
He climbed the front stairs gingerly on his strained leg, and when he reached the landing he found the hallway to be as dark as the first floor, illuminated only by a glint from the guest bedroom around the corner. The bumps came more regularly, in a rhythmic beating, and suddenly he sensed, rather than heard, a sharp feminine whimper pulsing in time with the thuds. When he reflected on the discovery, he knew he hadn't made any conscious effort to be silent, but neither had he done anything to make any noises other than the creaks that result from walking on carpet in an older home.
He approached the guest room, an open door, and then he viewed the bed. Reclining upon it, in profile, was his wife, her blonde hair swishing bestride her flushed face, her head resting on a pillow, her substantial breasts crowned with tawny aureoles and gently tumescent nipples. Her legs were folded upward at the hips, touching her abdomen, and spread wide. Between those limbs, facing her, also entirely unclothed, was a portly gentleman kneeling on the mattress, hairy at the chest and legs. It was entirely too obvious the man's penis was firmly inserted within Esther's sex, and as he thrust the rod into the woman, the bed moved, resulting in first the thumping of the bedstead against the wall, and secondly an excitation in the wife's body, precipitating the groans from the woman, timed with the rhythm of the strokes.
If either turned their head they would have seen Neil, but Esther's eyelids were pulled tight in indulgence, and the man, who's body was slightly askew to the door, seemed much too intent upon his quest. Neil witnessed the infidelity, somehow unwilling to disturb the proceedings, pulled back into the shadows, but remained in position to observe the couple's sport. Further examination revealed the man's left hand was adorned with a golden wedding band, and the cock he was using to pleasure the woman was sheathed in latex. Neil had no idea who he was, couldn't ever remember meeting such a person, wondered under what circumstances he'd met Esther.
The woman shifted slightly, pulled her legs tighter to her chest resulting in a perfect target for the man's penetration, and her moaning became earnest; from the thousands of times he'd possessed that body, Neil recognized she was in a state of orgasm, responding to the plunges of the man within her. Seconds later the man moved his hands from her hips to a more supportive posture on each side of her shoulders, stretched himself, and with visceral grunts stiffened. Neil discerned this stranger's seed was being released, spurt after spurt, deep within the woman below him.
The movement of the lovers slowed, and before they could realize they'd been spied upon, Neil, as quietly as possible, backed from the iniquitous den and departed down the steps and from the house, got behind the steering wheel of his car. He knew he needed to get away, run from the new reality of his life, and he suddenly recognized he was terribly parched. He drove to a convenience store, poured himself a frozen drink, and surprised himself, when the cashier asked, "How are you?" by responding, "Fine." 'Fine' was the last word, he realized, that described either his physical or emotional state.
What to do now, he wondered. He couldn't go home, not yet, he wasn't going to interrupt the couple. As he drove he wondered, what they they doing? After they'd finished, did they dress, or did they lay together for a time, perhaps regaining their strength for another tryst? It really didn't matter, did it? The specifics of the act seemed far less important than the actuality of it. Neil drove the car to a glen by the side of a river, parked in the darkness, allowed his mind to reflect on the transmuted state of affairs.
Neil replayed the movie his mind had recorded. How Esther fondled her partner's arms and chest, assuming the intent manner that indicated her pleasure at the circumstance, the way she'd encouraged him to implant the intruding cock as thoroughly as possible. The man's phallus seemed no larger than average; of course, Neil had not been able to observe if he was circumcised or not since the thing hadn't disgorged itself from its repository. He wondered at how intent the man seemed to be at his expedition into Esther's body, for Neil had never witnessed another couple making love. Was it love? Was his wife, Esther, in love with this man she'd allowed to infiltrate the most private part of her body? Or was it a simple amusement, a diversion meant only to satisfy a craving that he, Neil, was unable to quench?
