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Sometimes, it’s hard to tell if a wife is faithful. I found out about Debra fucking her boss only because I was keeping tabs on her drinking.
We were in our late twenties, five years married and still much in love. At least I was. We both worked. I was a professor of English at the community college. Debra, an impeccable dresser, was an assistant manager at the local office of HQ&W Advertising.
As a result of encouraging my students to write, I talked myself into keeping a journal on my computer. Daily, I recorded household occurrences, including my wife’s comings and goings. Especially how much she drank. Debra had a drinking problem and I tried to help her keep it under control.
That’s how I came to notice the change in Debra’s behavior. More and more, when she worked late at the office, she came home smelling of alcohol. For the past six months, she had been coming home loaded. And with her clothing increasingly disheveled.
One night, when she arrived after midnight, I remarked, “Honey, you look like you’ve been sleeping in that pants suit.”
My wife took offense. “Mr. Thompson and I had to work like hell, thank you. For a big client. Presentation’s tomorrow.”
“And, you’ve been drinking again. I can smell it.” She shrugged as if it were unimportant. “John had a couple. I did too. So what?”
I wanted to talk but Debra went frigid. She claimed she was tired and tromped off to bed. So I sat by myself, figuring what she might have unintentionally given away. I mean, when she referred to Mr. Thompson by his first name. I figured ‘John’ might be more than a drinking buddy. The idea nagged me all that night.
The next morning, I looked up private investigators in the phone directory. The D. R. Phelps Agency advertised fifteen years experience. Discreet, the ad said. Had covert audio and video cameras. And affordable. I called.
Don Phelps answered his phone in person. In a face-to-face appointment that afternoon, I told him about my wife. Debra’s drinking and how cold she had acted when she came home so late. I told him how much I loved her and of my suspicions. “The next time your wife says she has to work overtime,” Phelps said, “let us know.”
That happened two weeks later. My wife called me at my campus office to tell me she would be working late again. I notified Phelps. He told me he’d put the HQ&W office under observation.
It was late when Debra came home that night. I smelled the liquor across the room and her clothes were more than a little tousled. “Another rush presentation?” I asked.
She stopped a moment. “Aren’t they all? It was a bitch!” “I thought we might talk a little.” “Jeff, I’m sorry. I’m pooped.” She yawned, maybe to prove the point “I’m going to bed.” I felt hurt but kissed her good night as she passed by. I could hardly wait to hear from Phelps. To find out what had actually happened. He called me at my campus office the next day. “I’m finishing the report on your wife’s activities last night.”
“What went on?” “It’s all in the report.” “When can I get it?” “This afternoon, if you wish. My office. Can you make it here by three?” My last class ended at two thirty. “I’ll be there,” I said.
I drove my Accord downtown, reaching Phelps’ office at three. His receptionist ushered me in. Phelps went straight to the point. “Mr. Jones, I regret to say that your suspicions were justified. Last night, your wife engaged in sexual intercourse three times.” He paused. “As you surmised, it was with her boss, a Mr. John Thompson.”
I nodded. “She’s his assistant.” Although I had suspected it, confirmation of Debra’s infidelity came as a blow. Especially fucking three times when were seldom doing it more than once. I had tried to be a good husband and found the way she was acting hard to believe. “Are you absolutely sure?”
He handed me the written report and a computer disk. “It’s all here. And there’s video on the disk. Check it out for yourself.”
I accepted both and flipped through the typed pages. I felt my stomach sink. The description was graphic. “Can you tell me how long this has been going on?”
Phelps shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.” “This really hurts,” I said. “I mean, finding out your wife is unfaithful for sure. Right now, I’m wiped out. Ready to go home. What’s the tab?” Phelps quoted a figure that was high, but not unreasonable. I handed him my credit card which he took out to his receptionist.
When he came back in the office, he must have noticed how depressed I was. As he returned the card, he said, “Mr. Jones, take everything slow. Don’t do anything rash.” I probably bared my teeth. “How would you feel if it were your wife?”
“When you came to me, you told me you were in love with your wife but unsure of her. Disregarding the affair, has your wife done anything to indicate she’s unhappy with you?” I was shocked. “No, by God, but isn’t adultery … extramarital sex … enough?” “How long has the Thompson fellow been manager at you wife’s branch?”
“Not long,” I answered. “He transferred in two, maybe three months ago.” “And how long have your wife’s clothes looked suspicious?” I thought about it. “Longer than that,” I said.
”Was she an assistant to the manager before Thompson?’ That’s when it became apparent to me. Debra’s had not limited herself to Thompson. She had at least two lovers. I nodded miserably. “At first glance, Mr. Jones, you wife seems to be exhibiting addictive behavior.” I looked up.
Phelps explained. “I think she may be addicted to both alcohol and sex.” “I was aware of the alcohol addiction. I’ve tried to help her control her drinking. What does sexual addiction entail?” “Sex on the side and other things to boost her ego. Generally, being unfaithful.”
“Because she wants to?” I guessed. He shook his head. “No, she may need it. To make herself feel good.” “What about me?”
He shrugged. “Perhaps she’s too embarrassed to tell you.” “But why would she choose someone like Thompson?” “Probably because he was handy. I don’t think your wife’s choice of men is meaningful. Do you want me to run a quick check on Thompson? It may put your mind more at ease.”
I didn’t know which way to turn. But I felt a need to know. “Yes, I’d like to find out what’s going on.” “Okay,” Phelps said. “I’ll run a report on him and get it to you in a day or two.” We shook hands and I went home. That night and the next few days, nothing happened between Debra and me. Including sex. We were coolly formal to each other.
When the report on John T. Thompson arrived, I studied it. Thompson was good looking. His picture was impressive but he was not as handsome as the previous manager. Further, he was middle aged and fifteen years older than Debra. The report described him as ambitious, a hard worker who was married and had two children. He had been with HQ&W for twelve years and was on the way up. It was expected he would soon be promoted and transferred to one of the larger offices on the coast.
That caused me to do some thinking. When Debra’s previous lover had been transferred, she had let him go and stayed with me. Then she had taken his replacement as her lover. Suddenly, Phelps’ diagnosis seemed right. It was a sexual addiction that was causing my wife to act like such a slut. And, being on the pill gave her the chance to do it without the risk of pregnancy.
I suddenly found Debra’s affairs with her bosses less than threatening. Instead, they became turn-ons for me. When Thompson was transferred, I sensed Debra would find another lover. My wife’s sexual addiction was fulfilling my wildest fantasy by causing her to fuck other men. Having finally admitted this to myself, I now felt an urge to share it with her. I planned how to become part of the action.
A week later, Debra phoned to say she would have to work late again. I checked my computer to see what had happened in the past on that date. Exactly four years earlier, we had left for a great weekend at the beach.
I set up a ruse. To celebrate that anniversary, I bought a dozen long-stemmed roses and a fifth of Southern Comfort. Then I bathed, added a touch of English Leather, dressed in a robe and waited in the living room for my wife to come home.
When Debra came in the front door that night, I greet her with the flowers. She accepted them but asked, “Hey, why the roses?”
“To celebrate the anniversary of our trip to the beach. It was exactly four years ago today.” “Thanks,” she said and gave me a peck on the cheek. I smelled the alcohol on her breath and the musky aroma of body odor. “But aren’t you overdoing it?”
“I also have a fifth of Southern Comfort.” That caught my wife’s attention. Her eyes lit up. “Really?” “You and me,” I said. I filled two glasses with ice cubes and poured the liquor over them. Just what she liked. I handed a glass to her.
“You’re going to let me drink this?” “Tonight’s different. We’re celebrating.” I could tell Debra was pleased, though puzzled. She sat beside me on the sofa as we drank.
She became more appreciative as one drink led to another. I started romancing her and, in spite of an initial hesitancy, my wife made no protest as I stripped her. I soon had her naked, on her back, on our sofa. When I took out my cock and put it in her, it slid in as if her vagina had been greased. The result of Thompson’s sperm, I decided. “You’re hot tonight,” I said.
Debra gave me a big smile. “Or do you already have cum inside you?” Her face showed sudden surprise. “Jeffrey! How can you say a thing like that?” “There’s something gooey inside you.”
Her face flamed a brilliant red. “Was it you and your boss again?” “Jeff!”
“Did you get intimate? I think I smell him on you.” She turned her face away.
“Debra,” I said, “I know you’re having an affair with John Thompson. Did you let him fuck you tonight?” She tried to push me away. “Let me up!” “No.” I held her down.
She grimaced. “Why are you doing this to me?” “Because I had a private eye track you two weeks ago. He gave me a video of your fuck session with Thompson.” Debra froze, like in suspended animation.
“Three times. And Thompson didn’t even use a condom with you.” That’s when she started crying. I turned tender and tried to brush away the tears. “Don’t cry.” “What are you driving at, Jeff? A divorce?”
I shook my head. “No, Thompson’s married and subject to transfer. He’ll likely be sent to the coast in a year or two. Then you’ll find someone else for a lover.” She turned her face up and looked at me. “Doesn’t that make you mad?” “To the contrary, Debra, I’m thrilled by what you’re doing.”
She frowned. “Really?” “You’re being a naughty girl.” “I’m being unfaithful.”
“I’d always fantasized you fucking some other man. Now, I find it’s happening. With a married man who’s destined to be transferred. What could be better?” She remained silent, watching me. I pushed the envelope. “Did you enjoy your fuck with Thompson tonight?”
She hesitated, but then opened up and confessed. “Yes.” “Did you let him shoot inside you?” She bit her lip and nodded.
‘Did you like taking his sperm?” I asked. “If you must know, yes!”
“Good,” I said and smiled. “Now, I want you to take mine.”
She suddenly pulled me to her and we deep kissed. Then she said, “Turn over,” and we rotated so she was on top.
She pushed down on me and I felt her cunt clamp my cock. When she started moving again, her tight vagina was literally pulling on it. She was hot and so was I. It was only a question of time. When I came, I spurted deep inside her, adding my load to Thompson’s. It was our best sex ever.
Then my wife mumbled, “God, Jeff, I love you,” before she collapsed. I held her while she drifted off to sleep.
I don’t think Debra is used to taking care of two men in one night. But she’ll learn. Best of all, my fantasy’s come true. I’m looking forward to great sex with my slightly unfaithful wife.
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