08/21/2016 21:58 in voyeur
Following are a trio of short stories resulting from interviews. None have sufficient depth for a standalone tale but all have facets that it would be a pity to lose. The three stories respectively are Beef, Family Ties and Three card trick.
When I married Amanda three years ago I knew that she had been with a load more guys than she admitted to. I mean, with her kind of looks, especially that fabulous figure, it was obvious that she must have been very popular. So although her sexual experience was vastly greater than mine, I was just grateful that it was me that she happened to fall in love with. I felt so lucky that she had chosen me; it was very easy to make concessions. For example, right from the start Amanda said that she intended to carry on going out on Friday nights with the girls and young women that she worked with. I would have preferred for it to be just the two of us seven days a week but for the sake of a peaceful life I raised no objection.
My wife's best friend from work is called Carole. She is another fabulous looking woman and when I see them standing side by side, it is hard to decide which is the best. I do know that on Friday nights when Carole arrives, all dressed up in her disco gear to pick up Amanda for their evening, the sight of her short skirt, high heels and tits almost hanging out, makes my pants feel extremely tight. But perhaps it is not so much the sight of Carole as her reputation that turns me on.
One night when we had been married some fifteen months, Amanda arrived home slightly less inebriated than usual. Reaching out for the hot drink I had prepared for her she remarked, "I don't know where Carole finds the nerve. Over the last six months I don't think there has been a single Friday that she hasn't finished up getting shagged by someone - if her husband ever finds out he's going to go absolutely bonkers."
I was shocked. I knew that they danced with men and got chatted up but I had no idea that things could go further than that. "And what do you do?" I asked suspiciously.
"No more than most of the other girls," she told me blithely.
"And what exactly is that?"
"You know. A bit of snogging and get my tits felt up but I've never let any guy put anything more than a couple of fingers inside me. I promise that I never will, so you have nothing to worry about."
That was more than enough but something made me ask, "Are you sure that you have never done anything else?"
Amanda looked uneasy and then admitted, "Well on two occasions I tossed the guy off but it was only to get out of a difficult situation - it was either that or risk getting raped."
I did not like any of this one little bit and I told her so. I finished by saying, "When I agreed to your Friday's out with you friends it was because I thought I could trust you. Now I feel betrayed."
"You are silly. Can't you see that it's just a laugh, a harmless bit of fun? Do you know, the best bit of the evening is in the taxi coming home when we all pull the guys we've been with into tiny little pieces. It's hilarious. If any of them heard what we say about them, they would want to just curl up and die."
It must have been fear of appearing to be a prude compared to the other apparently permissive husbands that caused me to accept her standards. I do know that from then on her Friday nights out were a constant torment as I sat at home wondering what she was doing.
In addition to her regular Friday nights, Amanda had evenings nights out. It started when she mentioned that a girl at work was getting married and asked if she could go on a mid week hen night for the bride to be. I agreed then that she could go on any hen night that cropped up but thought it would be a rare occurrence. The trouble was that Amanda worked with a large number of young women and one or other seemed to be always getting spliced - usually after cohabiting with the guy for two or three years. The morning following one Thursday day hen-night, Amanda was so badly hung over that I rang her place of employment claiming illness as the reason for her absence. By the time that I arrived back from work she was just about recovered but had still only bothered to knock me up a scratch tea. During the evening she seemed to be in a funny mood and I got the impression that she was busy thinking instead of watching the TV programs. Late on during a commercial, she said suddenly, "I don't think that fidelity is all that important - do you?"
Now I thought she was talking about 'high fidelity' to do with midi-systems so I told her, "I don't know all that much about music."
She laughed. "I mean staying faithful. I think that if two people really love each other like we do then if they sleep with other people occasionally it doesn't matter at all - for instance, I wouldn't mind at all if you wanted to have sex with Carole."
"Yes really - you do fancy her don't you?"
"She's all right," I said.
"Come on, it's more than that. You fancy her like crazy - I've seen the way you look at her."
"Carole has a smashing figure and she is very good looking - it's quite natural to like looking at her," I admitted what was impossible to deny.
"Well she fancies you too, did you know that," Amanda declared looking at me challengingly. "She said that if I ever want to get rid of you then to point you in her direction. She is a very sexy girl"
"Did she really say that - I mean in those very words?" I asked, very thrilled despite my pose of being disinterested.
Amanda hesitated and then told me, "What she actually said was, 'If you ever need a break from Derek, I'll open my legs for him any time'. So now you know, what are you going to do about it?"
"I don't know. I never have cheated on you and up to this moment, I hadn't planned to."
"Never - you mean you haven't even thought about it?"
"No - have you?" Turning the question round caught my wife completely by surprise and she blushed bright red. I immediately put two and two together, "That other hen night you went on - the one for Avis where her boyfriend dumped her the next day. You were somehow involved in that weren't you? The way that your pals giggled and whispered, I thought then that something had happened that I was not meant to know about."
Amanda let her breath out with a rush and said a bit too willingly, "OK, I'll tell you everything that happened. Right from start Avis hung around the band and didn't join in the laugh at all. Then when the strip-o-gram that we had ordered arrived, we told her that there was someone wanted to meet her but she stayed by the stage saying, 'If it's some manky male stripper you can play with him yourselves.' So that's what we did. I look a bit like Avis, particularly from the side, so he performed to me as if I was the bride to be. I smeared the baby oil on his chest as usual and let him rub himself suggestively against me. The point of these do's is to get pictures of the girl who is going to be married, doing things that are a bit naughty. The idea is to get a laugh by flashing the snaps at work and also threatening to show them to her husband at the wedding reception - so when Avis wouldn't play we had to forge some pictures with me pretending to be her."
"When the guy finished had finished his act he offered to pose for some extra photo's and someone suggested that, because Avis had been such a cow, we should get a picture of her with the strippers cock in her mouth and then really show it to her boyfriend. Everybody agreed so I put on a bride's head-dress someone had brought. It hid most of my face while I did it. There was nothing for you to be upset about because the guy's cock was only in my mouth for a moment." Amanda paused, bobbed her head from side to side as she thought back and then said, "Well possible thirty seconds because there was a bit of messing before they got the camera to work."
My wife obviously missed the horror in my voice because she qualified quite happily, "Well certainly not much more than a minute. It didn't taste very nice, in fact it burned my tongue - I think he had put something on to keep it stiff during his act."
I couldn't believe the whole horrible business. "Are you telling me that Avis lost her future husband due to a photo that you degraded yourself to provide?"
Amanda laughed gaily at my wrong conclusion. "It was nothing to do with the photo. Roy dumped her for spending that night in a caravan with three guys out of the band."
Nothing more was said just then but the subject was not finished in my mind. I felt vaguely uneasy with the niggling impression that I had been bamboozled. It was not until we were lying in bed that my suspicion crystallised. "Forget the stripper. Have you cheated on me since we were married?"
Amanda answered categorically, "No Derek, I have not cheated on you with anyone at all since we were married, I promise."
I heaved a sigh of relief and snuggled down preparing for sleep until a little devil in my mind asked, 'Why didn't she just say no - was there a reason for that very precise answer.' "What about before we were married?"
"That wasn't really cheating," she said. "For a start it wasn't planned and I don't even think that I enjoyed it."
Jerking up in bed I switched on the light and turning to my blinking wife I accused, "So you have had full sex with someone else."
"I suppose so but there's no point asking me about it because I don't remember a damn thing."
"When and who the fuck was it?"
"It happened on my hen night before we got married when I stayed the night at Carole's. You remember I didn't want any sex stuff like strip-o-grams so we just had a straightforward pub-crawl. Well Carol's younger brother Pete drove us all from pub to pub. All night he was coming on to me making saucy remarks and I teased him back - I thought there was no harm in it. But later he came into my room and got into bed. I was too pissed to stop him and we did it. I don't know if I passed out first or whether he did. If I hadn't woken up lying in a wet patch the next day I wouldn't have remembered anything about it."
"Pete! What is he now - hell he couldn't have been any older than fifteen at the time."
"No he was over seventeen or else he wouldn't have been able to drive but that's the point Derek - if I was going to pick someone to cheat with it certainly would not have been him. That's why I think that it doesn't really count."
I lay awake for a long time thinking about it. The sickening thing was that I could see her point of view but that left me in the helpless position of knowing that she had been fucked by someone else and yet I was not able to fully blame her.
When I woke next morning it was to find my wife lying looking at me, (I rather suspect she had given a nudge to rouse me from sleep). "Have you decided what you are going to do about Carole?" she wanted to know.
"I expect that I will go and see her sometime - after what you told me last night I'd be a fool not to."
"What about tonight? I know that her husband Wilf is taking a lorry to the far side of Europe this afternoon on a five-day round trip. Anyway, Carole is expecting you - she says she can hardly wait."
I would have liked to think about it a lot more before acting but wilting under Amanda's pressure, I said, "OK, I'll go round to her house about eight o'clock."
Amanda gave a satisfied smile and then, speaking as if the idea had just struck her she said, "If you are going to be screwing Carole and having a load of fun, it entitles me to see other people as well."
Now although I had agreed to visit Carole it did not mean that I had to misbehave so I was trying to work out what I should do and only half listening to what Amanda was saying. "Yes - I suppose it does," I said.
"I've got this guy coming round tonight - I'll introduce him to you before you set off to give Carole a good time."
"Guy - what guy?" I demanded, startled back to full attention.
"He's the male stripper from the other night - he's called Beef'."
"What did you get up to that night, have you already been messing with him?"
"I did nothing at all. I didn't kiss him and I didn't touch him - we just chatted a bit after he had finished his turn."
"And what exactly is so special about Beef?"
"Well he's got loads of muscles and he has got a ten inch dick."
At that I laughed and shook my head disbelievingly. "It's true," Amanda insisted. "He let the girl who is getting married measure it and then Carole insisted on measuring it as well just to make sure. Carole says it was all him, perfectly genuine every inch - and she really did give it a good feel."
"No it's not on. You can forget it and I will forget all about Carole. I don't want you seeing him."
"Why not for God's sake. It's only a one off - you'll see Carole a lot but I am only going with Beef once."
"The size of his bloody cock, that's why. You might get addicted to it or others that big."
"Derek," Amanda said patiently, reaching out and grabbing my hand, "What is your favourite white knuckle ride on Blackpool pleasure beach?" When I told her she asked why I didn't want to ride on it more than once a year. I muttered something about expense and distance to travel. "So suppose that you have a fortnight's holiday in Blackpool, would you go on it every day?"
"No - only when I got there and then probably again just before I left."
"So why not every day?"
"Because that would spoil it. I would soon get used to it and that would spoil the thrill."
"See, that's just what I mean," Amanda said triumphantly. "I would like to know what a very large penis feels like but only occasionally. You needn't worry about me running off with someone who has a bigger prick than you. That's not what it is all about."
That analogy was so apt that I could easily understand what she was saying and agreed that present arrangements could stand. "I'll clear off round to see Carole before your friend arrives," I suggested, trying to be tactful.
"No that's no good," Amanda said in a sudden panic. "Beef won't do it if he hasn't got your permission. He says that he always insists on that to prevent having irate husbands chasing him."
"Always? How do you mean always - you make it sound as if he does it all the time."
"He does. He says that the stripping is only his shop window and his main income if from women who pay for him call and screw them at home. Beef says that it difficult to do with the really old ones but he charges them the most money."
"You mean you are actually paying this bastard to screw you?" I asked incredulously.
"Don't be silly. That is how he picked me up. While he was doing his performance and the others were messing about with him, he kept grinning at me and winking. Then later he came up and said he would give me a freebie if I wanted. He said he didn't do that very often but I was 'a right little cracker'. Nobody has ever called me that so I made a date for him to come round tonight."
For some reason this little story made me feel a lot better about the whole thing and I felt a thrill of anticipation knowing that I really would be slipping between Carole's creamy thighs. Amanda was very pleased that I had given the go ahead and started smiling happily. But then she looked a bit serious and warned me, "You will have to be very careful about seeing Carole again after tonight because Wilf has threatened that he is going to castrate the next man he catches her fucking about with."
I was rather sobered by this news but knowing that for coming night he would be safely out of the way, I spent the day on a mounting high. Part of this was the anticipation of enjoying sex with the delicious Carole but there was also a great deal of excitement in imagining a ten-inch cock being pushed into my wife's cunt.
My wife's professional stud arrived dead on time. He was nicely over six feet tall with a tanned handsome face and a crew cut. Despite the weather he was wearing a body warmer that left his muscular arms bare, while lower down, his very tight blue jeans revealed what it euphemistically called 'a well packed lunch box'. When Amanda introduced us, my resentment and jealousy melted under the impact of his friendly grin. He stuck out his hand saying, "You are a very lucky man to have such a lovely wife."
The compliment would have had more meaning had not the sole purpose of his visit been to 'have' her as well. All the same, having met him, I was a lot happier with the situation than I thought I would be. Amanda suddenly disappeared into the kitchen. She was possibly following his instructions because when we were alone he gave me a long look and asked, "Are you sure that you are all right about this?"
Despite a sudden temptation to pull the plug on the whole thing I reassured him and this prompted the question, "Is there anything that you would like to know?"
There was one question that I could think of to ask. "When you are stripping, do you have to put something on your dick to keep it stiff?"
Beef seemed a bit surprised by my query but then he smiled confidently and told me. "Some do - they use a lineament that generates heat but I don't need to. Just looking round a room full of female faces and knowing that I can have any one that I want is enough to keep me fully aroused. Believe me, some of them are really beautiful girls."
"Yes and no," he said ruefully. "Even the young ones are often willing to pay for it but it's the old biddies who have the real money and I do have to find the rent."
There developed an awkward silence between us and possibly just to fill it Beef explained, "I don't usually do strip-o-gram work, I'm actually taking a week's break and only performed on Thursday to help out a mate. I'm more used to doing my act for a whole roomful and not just one drunken tart with her mates."
At this point Amanda came back, gave me a big kiss and told me to have a fantastic time. The affection in her kiss was genuine but it was obvious that she was eager for me to leave. I desperately did not want to go and it was by making myself think only of what was going to occur in Carole's bed and not my own, that I made it out of the door. On the way round to Carole's house my mind was filled with erotic images of what I hoped would come to fruition during the night ahead and by the time that I was happily ringing the bell my prick was stiff as a poker. After a moment the door was wrenched violently open and a very large man stood there snarling "YES?"
The very obvious terrifying fact was that Carole's husband must have cancelled his trip and my mind flashed back to a half heard lunchtime news bulletin about French farmers blockading the ports again. The silly smile faded from my face as my brain worked rapidly. "I've got a message for Carole," I stuttered. "Amanda has got flu and can't get round tonight."
Inside the house, Carole jumped in to support my story saying, "Yes Wilf, Amanda and me were going to...er...Bingo."
Wilf stood and stared down at me slowly nodding his head, then suddenly reached out and grasped my jacket just under the chin. One handed and with the greatest of ease he lifted me until I was dangling with my face no more than an inch in front of his. "OK," he said. "But tell Amanda that next time she should come herself or use the fucking telephone."
With that he opened his fingers and let me drop. I landed in a heap but immediately began to scuttle crab wise away from him down the path. Wilf stood and watched until I reached the gate and then slammed the door.
I walked home humiliated, frightened and desperately disappointed because I knew I lacked the courage to ever capitalise on Carole's promised sexual hospitality. My mind was so engrossed with these thoughts that it was not until I was standing outside our flat that I realised I could not go in. And it was bloody cold.
I looked up at the windows of our second floor flat to see that the bedroom curtains were drawn but the light had been left on. After some time spent wandering up and down trying to decide what to do, my fingers were so numb that I dropped the cigarette that I was trying to smoke. It was this that decided me because I realised that I needed a far thicker coat to survive the hours until Beef decided to leave. The next moment, I was fumbling my key into the lock. My intention was simply to grab some extra clothing but once inside, as everything seemed quiet, I could not resist the temptation to pour a large glass of whiskey, purely for inner warmth. It was only fair that I should have got out of there as quickly as I could but it is amazing how weak willed I had become thinking of the bitter wind outside. So I sank into a chair and sat sipping at my glass, allowing the central heating to gradually thaw me.
After about ten minutes, the bedroom door opened and Amanda ran out naked to grab two cans of beer from the fridge. It was not until she was returning to the bedroom that she saw me sitting there and stopped. "Wilf was at home when I got there - I think his trip must have been cancelled," I told her quickly before she could speak.
"Shit - I was banking on having all night." Amanda stood there with a mixture of annoyance and indecision her face but still looking undeniably extremely erotic. After a moment she muttered, "Hang on" and disappeared into the bedroom carrying the cans. There was a quick muttered conversation that I could not catch and then my wife poked her head round the door to say, "Beef says he usually charges an extra twenty if husbands want to watch but he'll let you come in for half price."
It was preposterous. What husband in his right mind would pay ten pounds to watch his wife being fucked by another man? But then the alternatives were hardly attractive. I could go outside and freeze to death in the street or I could remain seated where I was and just listen. But I was sexually supercharged from the events of the day and it was this factor that influenced my decision - I got out my wallet and walked into the bedroom with the correct denomination bank note clutched in my hand. They were sitting side by side on the pillows, naked and drinking their beer. Amanda looked up at me, smiled and said happily, "You haven't missed much love - we've only had a quickie so far."
To set the scene, I can say that I live in a mining village with Connie my wife of ten years and our two sons aged seven and five. Elsewhere in the village, my mum and Jim my father still live in the cottage where my younger brother James and I were brought up. Avoiding the pit, I work as a draughtsman and the wages enable us to live in a reasonable semi-detached house. James has done better in life than me, mainly because an influx of cash from somewhere enabled him to go to university. He now lives in a luxurious new detached house some ten miles away with his glamorous wife Elsa.
Just after Saturday lunch, Connie glanced at her watch then jumped up saying, "The boys will be safe playing next door for the afternoon so I'm popping into town love, I should be back in a couple of hours."
I was not bothered because this was a chance to watch a game of football on the box without fear of the usual interruptions. Twenty minutes later I was sitting in front of the set waiting for the match to start with a can of lager to hand and the newspaper on my lap. So I was not exactly pleased when my mother knocked on the door and walked in but I forced a welcoming smile onto my face and switched the television off. "You by yourself?" she asked.
I reported that Connie had popped out for a couple of hours and asked if it was her she had come to see. "No - it's you I want a word with - I'm glad that you are alone because it is rather delicate."
"Come and sit down, I'm all ears," I invited. Despite the disappointment at missing the match I was intrigued, mainly because I had never seen my mother with such a tense look on her face.
"How do you feel about your dad? Be honest - don't just say what you think I want to hear."
"I do love him but at times I not sure that I like him very much," I told her honestly.
"What exactly don't you like - I thought that he has always been very fair with you?"
"It's the way he once treated you that bothers me," I told her. When I was ten, a gang of us used to creep up on cars in a local lover's lane. On one occasion we watched a rocking car with steamed up windows for well over an hour and when the couple eventually emerged from the back seat, I was shocked to see that the male was my father. Then some years later as a teenager, I had taken a girl to the privacy of a motel car park and just happened to be in the right place to see my dad emerge from a cabin with his arm round a neighbour's wife.
"You mean his other women?"
I nodded mutely - I had not realised that she knew.
"Come on Gary - what did you see that has been upsetting you all these years?"
In a rush I blurted out the two incidents mentioned above and then added, "I know that dad is kind and sometimes very funny but I always thought that if he could betray you with other women like that he must be a bastard underneath."
Mother laughed. "You're being a bit silly - they didn't bother me and there were more than just a few. I actually welcomed them because they got your dad out of my hair so that he only pestered me when I wanted to be pestered." She paused and then suggested, "Make us a cup of tea love and we will have the little talk that I think we should have had a long time ago."
When we were sitting comfortably clutching our mugs she began, "Jim is very physical - he's the kind of man who would have liked to spend all of his life in bed, if you know what I mean. I loved the way he was until you came along but then for some reason I lost a lot of my sex drive and that's when your dad started playing around. Most men are not like him, they may talk about sex a lot but it is actually not at the top of their list of priorities - football, beer, fishing and whippets fill their minds far more of the time. In contrast and contrary to opinion, women are aware of sex far more, not least because they can never go anywhere without some male looking at them in a sexual way."
She stopped to light a cigarette and went on, "Most women lead pretty boring lives, at home looking after children and even if they do have a part time job it is usually pretty tedious. So they end up going to bed hoping for a bit of hanky panky to brighten up their day but the husbands are either too drunk or talk about their pet hobby for ten minutes then roll over and go to sleep. Now men like women to take the initiative in bed occasionally but if their wives keep pestering for sex, they start getting suspicious. I know of at least two innocent women who ended up divorced because their husbands got paranoid about them screwing other men. On the other hand I know loads of still happily married women in this village who found someone discrete to give them what their husbands were failing to provide. That is where your dad came in. Since his accident in the pit when he turned to plumbing, plastering and general odd jobs he has kept a lot of marriages on track - on quite a lot of his call-outs, the work was only pretence to get him to visit."
"I've done him an injustice," I said, feeling ashamed that I had condemned my father without really knowing the facts.
"Do you want to make it up to him?"
When I nodded she said, "Your dad is in a bit of a bad way. Over the last five years he has aged badly, his limp is far worse and he had to give up his handyman work in case he lost his disability allowance. That means that he can't get women any more. On top of that, since my hysterectomy two years ago there has been nothing at all from me in that direction. Can you imagine what it must be for a man such as your father condemned to living like a monk? He's started having really black depressions and I can see him shrivelling before my eyes. I love him and I can't bear to see him like this so I have decided that the only answer is to find a woman for him."
"You mean a prostitute?"
"No definitely not. After what he has done Jim would find having to pay for it even more humiliating than doing without. No what we need is an ordinary woman who would be willing to be nice to him occasionally - a bit of cheering up when he needs it. What do you think this woman should be like?"
The question was too vague for a realistic answer but, just to show willing I provided, "Reasonably attractive and probably quite a bit younger than him."
"That's good - and married. If she was single it could possibly get a bit out of hand."
It was my turn so I added "Discrete."
"It would also be best if she knew who he was - better still if she already liked him."
"Whoever it is, she will need to have a very generous nature."
"That is exactly what we want," my mother said excitedly, "Who do you know like that?"
I pretended to think and then shook my head. "Sorry mum, my mind's a blank. You know a load more women than I do, can you come up with anybody."
"There are one or two who might do at a pinch," she said, " - but the only one who really fits the bill is Connie."
For a moment I was stunned by the suggestion but then I realised that it had to be a joke and this started me chuckling. "Yes, she is about perfect," I agreed. "Just what the doctor ordered."
I continued laughing at the ludicrous idea and only slowly realised that my mother was not joining in the mirth. She waited until my jocularity had petered out and then said, "So?
"You can't be serious."
"I have never been more serious in my life Gary, your wife is the logical choice?"
I had no option but to bluster. "I don't see why it has to be Connie. I mean, if we are considering family for this, why not James's wife? Elsa is younger, they haven't any kids and although I hate to say it she is a lot better looking than Connie."
"There are two very good reasons why she is out. Don't ever breathe a word of this to James but Elsa is already having an affair with a guy at her health club. Apart from that your father doesn't like her - he always refers to Elsa as ' that toffee nosed tart'.
When no other alternative sprang to mind, I was reduced to muttering, "Well I don't like it - not one little bit."
"Connie and your dad always have got on very well, when he sets her giggling the way he does, I just know that he has said something cheeky to her. They have such a natural rapport that there would not be anything awkward or nasty about it if they got together so I don't really see why you should object."
"She's my wife and he's my father."
"I can understand why it might take a bit of getting used to but your dad needs help badly, so what do you say Gary?"
"It doesn't matter a damn what I say - surely it is what Connie says that matters."
"I have already spoken to Connie and she is all for it," my mother told me smugly.
"I don't believe it."
"You've got to believe it - Connie has only gone into town now to give me a chance to speak to you on your own."
My mother leaned forward and said softly, "You remember those neglected wives that I mentioned; well Connie feels that she is one. All the same, she is determined not to be unfaithful if she can possibly help it but she is finding it very hard. About a fortnight ago she got very emotional and said to me, 'Mum, sometimes I get so frustrated that I feel like going and selling myself on Watmough street.' Connie is a very troubled woman."
"I didn't know," I mumbled.
"I doubt if James' marriage will last another three years, so my only concern is saving yours. If Connie ever cheated on you I know how much it would break you up so we must prevent it happening. She is a very good wife and I know she doesn't want to be unfaithful but unless we do something she won't be able to stop herself having sex with another man sooner or later. If you want to know the truth Gary, I devised this whole plan to help Connie out - your dad is really the answer not the problem."
I started to weaken. "So how often do you think it should happen?"
"Just occasionally - say once a month. That would give Jim something to look forward to and also let a bit of the steam out of your wife's boiler."
"I'm not saying yes until I have spoken to Connie but if she is as enthusiastic as you say then I agree," I conceded reluctantly.
Connie got home about fifteen minutes after my mother left. She looked at me expectantly and asked, "Has your mother been?"
"Yes, she's been," I replied, keeping my face dead-pan.
"Did you talk?"
"And what did you say?"
"I told her that if you want to go to bed with my father, I'm not going to stop you - but I still don't understand why the hell you would want to."
"If I don't do something soon I think I am going to burst. I told your mother how I felt and when she suggested that going with your father might help, I agreed with her."
"Going with," I mimicked, "You make it sound so innocuous when what you are talking about is letting him fuck you."
"Well it probably will be pretty innocuous," Connie defended herself. "Your mum says that although Jim might have been a bit of a lion once, nowadays he has very little energy and even less stamina. So it could all be a lot of nothing much but it just might do him good - I'm not at all sure what benefit there will be for me. I can imagine that the excitement of thinking about it might be a lot better than the actual thing."
I could see that she was very determined so the only thing I could do was try and understand her point of view. "Please explain what got you so dissatisfied in the first place," I asked.
"Gary my life consists of taking the kids to and from school, doing a bit of housework then sitting about with nothing to do except remember what life used to be like as a teenager. When you come home you don't really talk to me and two evenings you are out anyway, once to night school and once to your local history club. I could put up with all that if you made a fuss of me in bed but most nights you just roll over and go to sleep."
"Why didn't you let me know that you were not getting enough sex?"
"Apart from acting like an outright whore, I couldn't make it more obvious. I wear sexy night-clothes, lots of perfume and I flaunt myself in front of you but you look right through me. Unless it is one of the rare occasions that you happen to have the urge, I'm just wasting my time."
On very dodgy ground, I tried to quickly change tack. "You know that you can have a night out yourself - how many times have I tried to get you to go to a disco or something?"
"Gary, there is one very simple reason why I dare not go out by myself - I know that if I do I will almost certainly open my legs to some guy or other before the evening is over."
That simple statement shook me rigid because I suddenly saw the magnitude of the problem.
"All right, if it will help, I agree," I surrendered.
Connie jumped forward and kissed me. "I love you," she said. "We can talk some more later if you want but right now I have to dash next door for the boys. See if you can dig some fish fingers out of the fridge."
I didn't really want to talk about it so there was no later discussion except that I mentioned my mother having suggested that Connie might see my dad once a month. Connie said she thought once every two weeks might be better and I didn't argue. I also asked when the first time was likely to be and my wife told me that she would let me know.
Early evening, the following Wednesday I was reclining in my chair and trying to listen to the sports news over the sound of my sons playing war games on the carpet when I glanced up to see my mother hanging up her coat. At that moment, right on cue, Connie appeared looking rather dressed up. She knelt between the two boys, kissed them and said, "I am going out so as a treat for you two, Grandma has come to get your supper and put you to bed." Then standing she gave me a quick kiss and murmured, "See you tomorrow. Please don't worry and remember that I love you."
Before I could react she was gone and I was left with the sound of my mother explaining, "She's gone to say hello to your dad."
"But wasn't I meant to be told before this," I protested.
"Maybe, but we thought it was better this way - it gave you less time to brood." As she spoke, my mother bent down and extracted a bottle of whiskey from her bag. "I thought we might have a little drink together when the children are safely in bed."
"But Connie just said that she would see me tomorrow, I thought that this was only going to be for an hour or two."
"It probably will be quick, I bet they probably spend more time playing dominoes than anything else," my mother told me calmly. "Anyway, would you really want your wife walking back here alone in the dark, not to mention me going home by myself?"
The next hour was spent sorting out sleeping arrangements - I did the decent thing and surrendered our bed to my parent and brought down bedding for me to make do on the couch. More time was taken up bathing the kids and getting them to bed and then I joined my mother in front of the television set. She quickly turned the sound down and for the rest of the evening kept my mind occupied with her reminiscences of my childhood, without a single reference to either my wife or father. We drank steadily (or I did) and by the end of the evening I was absolutely blotto. I can vaguely remember her tucking me in on the couch as if I was a child again.
Connie got home next morning just as I was about to set off for work nursing a throbbing head. I looked at her enquiringly but could not ask. "Your dad is great - he really made me laugh," she said. For some strange reason that remark made everything all right."
Throughout the next fortnight I knew that this exercise was going to be repeated but it did not bother me. I think that I had half got into my head the idea that Connie was giving my dad companionship and a boost to his morale with no sex involved. When the appointed night came she helped this impression by just wandering off quite casually after tea as if it was no big deal. This time my mother brought no booze and nor did she feel the need to keep my mind occupied, so we watched TV and drank a bit of wine that I provided. Knowing that his grandma was again staying the night, my youngest son begged to sleep in her bed. As she was agreeable, I was able to kip down in his bed and during all the future similar nights I had no more recourse to the couch.
The following night in bed with Connie, she suddenly said, "You don't take after your dad at all do you?"
"Not much," I agreed. "When I was young, I convinced myself that I must be adopted because I had not got the same family resemblance as James and I never understood why he was named after my father and not me. In the end my mum showed me a picture of her father and it was easy to see that I have inherited everything from him."
"Yes James does look more like your dad than you do but I have always thought that he looks a lot more like your Uncle Arthur."
"I've never really noticed but then Dad and Uncle Art are very much alike," I responded and then after a pause I asked, "When you said that I'm not like Dad, did you mean in a specific way?"
Connie hesitated as if wishing that she had never opened the subject but then she said reluctantly, "His penis is quite a lot bigger than yours." This statement seemed to hang in the air, so as if trying to cover up, she rushed on, "And he's very experienced."
Before I could formulate a response to this the sound of snoring told me that she was asleep (or pretending to be) but it was a long time before I managed to join her. Those few words had brought sex back into the equation and destroyed the cosy illusion that I had created for myself.
The following day the weather was exceptional so I decided to cash in some flexitime and start the weekend early by leaving work in the middle of the afternoon. My main idea was to pick the boys up from school but as I was half an hour too early I called at home first. Walking in I was shocked to find my father sitting in my chair, reading my newspaper and clutching a pint mug of tea in his hand. "Don't worry son, I will be out of your way as soon as I have drunk this," he said affably.
I was not at all pleased but I forced a smile onto my face and told him, "Don't hurry - I'm popping out to the school in a minute or two." But then, hurrying into the kitchen, in a completely different tone of voice I asked Connie, "What the hell is he doing here?"
She gave me a very unconcerned smile. "He's been doing a bit of work for us in the garden as a way of saying thank you."
"How long has he been here?"
"Not that long," Connie said. "Why don't you check what he's done, that should give you some idea. Anyway, he has promised to come again next week to get a bit more done."
The grass had been cut and a start made on clipping the hedge. I felt a bit guilty about my suspicion and ingratitude but said nothing when I went back inside. However, two days later we went as a family on our monthly pilgrimage to have Sunday tea at my parent's cottage. When I was alone with my mother in the kitchen she said brightly, "I bet you were surprised when you saw your garden - Jim was working on it from ten o'clock in the morning and he was absolutely knackered when he got home."
The fact that my father had undoubtedly spent at least a portion of Friday shafting my wife upset me badly but I was unsure exactly how to voice my displeasure. Logically I could not see how I could object to this daytime contact after having given permission for the fortnightly all night sessions. From one point of view the unauthorised afternoon could only reinforce the beneficial effects that we had set out to achieve. In the end I said nothing.
A fortnight later I had a Tuesday dental appointment and took the morning off work. I had a leisurely breakfast while Connie walked the kids to school and was enjoying a second cup of tea when she got home. A few minutes later I glanced out of the window to see my father, already stripped to the waist, striding across the lawn carrying a heavy length of timber on his shoulder. My first emotion was one of anger and a temptation to berate my wife but I controlled myself and said instead, "My father is suddenly looking very fit."
"He certainly is," Connie agreed contentedly, " - and he's nowhere near as decrepit as your Mum said he was going to be."
That proved that dad was sharing my marital bed on more than one day a week and if I was going to speak I should have done so then. Failure to do so condemned me to putting up with whatever they decided to do from then on. You may think that the following months were inevitably filled with mental torment but strangely that was not the case. Very quickly, the fact of Connie having lots of sex with my father ceased to have any real importance and I started to appreciate the very real benefits that I was getting out of the deal. Connie was no longer constantly irritable as she used to be and she had stopped nagging about me having left undone those things that I ought to have done. The garden was immaculate and all the outside maintenance jobs that I hated so much were being taken care of - although they did seem to take a very long time. Most importantly, my sex life improved.
Maybe it was simply due to my knowing that she was doing it with someone else but the fact was that I desired her a lot more. Before when Connie had tried to be gently seductive I had not noticed but now she was downright raunchy. One action that she repeated more than once when either naked or wearing nothing but a baby doll nightie was to stretch over the bed to reach something that could have been retrieved far easier by walking round. The sight of her buttocks and cleft to temptingly exposed set me on fire and yet I suspect that she was not consciously trying to arouse me. Best of all are the new things that she does to me in bed. At first these provoked a stab of jealousy but now I just enjoy the sensation and give no thought to how she learned the trick.
This last Wednesday after Connie had already set off for her official fuck, my mother arrived a bit late but she was bursting with news. "Elsa is pregnant and by my calculation it had to be conceived during the two weeks that James was working abroad. He's over the moon but then he hasn't realised yet - your brother never was terribly good at maths."
I made some appropriate remark and then my mother went on, "While we are on the subject, I've just come from visiting your Uncle Arthur. I had a bit of a fling with him you know, years ago - it was just after your father first started fooling around and I think I did it as a kind of revenge. Well Art is a very nice man and I'm still fond of him. He's been a widower now for over three years and he always was terribly shy. The thing is that he is really missing female companionship and I wondered if Connie might like to..."
- - - -
The male confidant in the next tale had no connection with Gary above but their stories contained a paternal element that was the similar. It was rather a coincidence because these two men had successive initial appointments and yet out of all my many others interviews, there were no other experiences that contained this particular factor.
I have called the story Three Card Trick but perhaps The Shell Game might have been more apt.
Three Card Trick
Almost every other husband that I have interviewed knew that he was a cuckold but this one only had very strong suspicions. Sam was in his late twenties, married with three children. He was not unintelligent but I quickly got the impression that he was finding his way out of a working class background. He wanted me to arrange a DNA test to prove that he was not the biological father of the middle child. I pointed out that I was an interviewer and not involved in remedial work but as the test was easy enough for me to arrange, I promised to help if his story justified it. In his own words, this is what he told me -
'When I started going with Mandy I thought that I was the luckiest man in the world because she is a really lovely girl. I would like to point out right at the start that she is living proof of how girls can get quite unjustified reputations. After a few weeks, when we did start having sex, she gave up her flat and came to live in the house I shared with my dad and younger brother - my older brother was away in the army. It was a good arrangement except that the only time I was alone with her was in our bedroom because at other times my dad or kid brother always seemed to be around. At times I wished that instead I had moved into her flat but that way we would not have been able to save anything like as much towards a house of our own. After a time we slipped up and got married before my oldest son was born. This rather changed the urge to leave because it was handy always having a baby sitter available. My young brother was always willing to take on this task but perhaps he was more eager to earn the five pounds that I always gave him.
One night I took Mandy down to the social club. We were sitting on stools at the back and just behind us there was a narrow shelf that I had put my beer on so that I could clap the comedian. When I turned to get my drink I suddenly noticed that the chap sitting on the other side of my wife had got his hand down the back of her jeans - I could even see his sodding fingers moving under the cloth. So I dashed round in front of him shouting 'Take you filthy fucking hands off my wife'. As soon as I did it I knew I had made a terrible mistake because he was a lot bigger than me and he looked as hard as nails - so pushing my glass in his face was really only self defence. Unfortunately the court didn't see it that way.
On the day I faced my GBH charge the injured party gave evidence on oath for the prosecution stating that he had been sitting minding his own business when I suddenly attacked him for no good reason. When it was the turn of the defence I told my side of the story and then Mandy was called to the witness box as corroboration. My council asked if she remembered the plaintiff interfering with her clothing and sexually molesting her to which Mandy answered quite blithely, "He probably did but I really didn't notice."
Now this did not do a lot for my case but it caused a lot of amusement and a gale of laughter went through the court, causing the judge to bang his gavel a lot to restore order. I did notice that the guy whose face I had spoiled didn't like this at all - I think he thought that everybody was laughing at him. My council must have picked up on this too because he immediately got the guy back in the witness box and started to goad him saying, "It must be a bit humiliating to you to find that the young woman you touched up was completely unaware of your attentions." The chuckles broke out again causing the bloke to go red in the face and shout, "It's a bleeding lie, she loved it - she was lapping it up." At that point I thought I might get away with Community Service but when it came time for sentence the judge said, "At the start of this case I had it in mind to sentence you to two years in prison. But having listened to the later evidence, I now think three months will provide enough of a salutary lesson. I trust that you will express your anger a different way in future."
The first time that Mandy came to visit me in prison I was pleased to see Joe with her because he had not been home for two years. After that I got to hate the sight of him, not least because I could never talk to my wife alone. It was easy to see why she would find him attractive and I quickly got the idea that there was something going on between them. They were all over each other - well if not exactly that there was a definite body language and I always got the impression that they were sharing some kind of secret joke. Even my cellmate noticed. "I assume that's your sister-in-law who comes to see you," he said. "She's a gorgeous piece of cunt - I wouldn't mind giving her one myself." I did not tell him that she was my wife mainly through fear of mockery and I spent many sleepless nights imagining Joe and Mandy shagging each other's brains out with me unable to do a damn thing about it.
Somehow my solicitor managed to get me out after only a month. When I got home Joe's leave had finished and Mandy was so loving and eager that I decided incarceration must have made me paranoid. I was pleased when she turned up pregnant and forgot my suspicions about her and my brother until they all came rushing back nine months later. Counting back it was so obvious even a blind man could have seen that the baby was conceived when I was fifty miles away and desperately trying to avoid having my arse hole penetrated by perverts.
Looking at Elizabeth now it is easy to see that she is Joe's kid but Mandy won't admit it. I put up with the situation and have even got another son now but I just can't stop thinking about it. Don't get me wrong because I have no intention of splitting the family up. If my wife did confess I would forgive her and little Lizzie is a lovely little girl but it cuts me up thinking that I am spending my cash to bring up another man's bastard. Joe earns good money and if he made a reasonable contribution every month then I would be willing to let bygones be bygones. The thing is that if Mandy won't tell me the truth then I will have to prove it another way. I've been hearing about DNA testing but I don't know how to go about it. '
"I can arrange a DNA test easy enough but it is rather taking a sledgehammer to crack a nut and always involves a degree of unpleasantness," I told him. "Do you think that your wife might talk to me. Perhaps if I repeat what you have just told me it might make a difference, especially if she knows it will not mean the end of the marriage."
"I think she just might, especially if I told her that I had been to see a councillor who now wanted to speak to her."
So it was arranged. On the face of it Sam seemed to have a good basis for his doubts and I was rather intrigued to hear what his wife would say.
Mandy was undoubtedly a very attractive woman but with a distinctly common look and dressed in the figure revealing clothes that females of that type seem to wear with such flair. She had large firm looking breasts, her legs were exceptional and when she crossed them very deliberately she was well aware of the affect it had on me. While I was still trying to swallow the excess saliva in my mouth she said, "I know that you're not a councillor because I found your advert with a red ring round it."
"I also do counselling and at the moment I am trying to help your husband find peace of mind," I told her. "At the moment he wants me to arrange a DNA test to prove that he is not the father of your daughter. I was hoping to avoid that by convincing you to tell the truth in the knowledge that your husband does not intend to use what you might say as basis for a divorce action."
"What exactly will you be telling him?"
"The parentage of Elizabeth - nothing more."
The young woman in front of me visibly relaxed. "Tell Sam that he can have as many DNA tests as he wants because they will all prove the same thing - Elizabeth is his daughter." There was a long pause with Mandy looking at me under her eyelids and then she said in a much lower voice, "She is 100% his but the other two aren't. You don't need to tell him that do you?"
Flabbergasted is a word that I don't like to use but there is no other that describes so exactly how I felt. I was reduced to muttering, "Pardon?"
"You heard," she said with a grin. "I've been a bit of a naughty girl and I will tell you all about it for your research as long as what I say is in confidence."
I agreed to that condition, got her sitting comfortably with a relaxing drink and switched on my recorder. What follows is a direct transcript from the tape -
'When it came to sex I played around as girls do but possibly a bit more than most. Then Sam came along. He was not the most fanciable guy I've ever been with but he had a job in computers and that made him far better husband material than the brickies, labourers and ordinary unemployed that I had been putting out for until then. Well Sam was dead keen on me so I decided he would do. Now guys aren't too keen on marrying girls who have spread their legs for half the neighbourhood so I set out to create the right impression. I wouldn't let him have any - I told him that I wasn't that kind of girl. There was no point pretending to be a virgin but I said that I only did it with a guy I had known a long time but it would make a big difference if I was engaged. This made him even more keen but he didn't quite go as far as proposing."
So we went out together for a few weeks with lots of kissing and touching up but no screwing. I think I suffered from going without more than him because I do like it. One night he was taking me to a posh dance and I went round to where he lived with his father and two brothers - his mum had died years ago. His dad said that Sam was not home from work but he invited me in and made me a cup of tea. After an hour Sam rang to say that he had a problem at work but that I should hang on. So I sat there watching television - I knew that we could not make the dance but I thought he could still walk me home. At eleven o'clock Sam rang again to say he was very sorry but he had to work all night.
His dad offered to run me home so we went out and got in the car but he flooded the engine trying to start it. We had been waiting ten minutes to try the engine again when Len, that's his dad, said, "This is stupid, there is a perfectly good bed upstairs that isn't going to be used, do you fancy sleeping here and I will get you home in time for work tomorrow." I knew that my flatmate was away and I didn't fancy going back to a cold and empty flat so I agreed.
After some supper I went upstairs and as I hadn't got any night-clothes I had to get into bed naked but it was nice and cosy. I might have been just drifting off to sleep when I heard the bedroom door open. Clutching the cover to my chest I sat up and switched on the bedside light. It was Len in his pyjamas. He said he had come to check if I was all right and ask if I needed anything. I told him that I was fine but instead of going he sat down on the side of the bed and started talking. Now the way that he was sitting I could see right through the gap in the front of his pyjama trousers. The light from the lamp was shining in and I could not help noticing that he had an exceptionally nice cock and that it was very stiff. Well he kept waffling on about nothing until after a while he saw where I was looking and without a word boldly got hold of my hand and put it on his dick. Now I didn't mind playing with it because it really was a beautiful big penis and just tossing a guy off it hardly being unfaithful is it - but next thing he had got in bed with me? I couldn't say no and it was getting light by the time he went back to his own room. I don't think we stopped once in all that time.
Afterwards I started worrying in case I was pregnant but everything turned out all right. After having done it with his dad it wouldn't have been fair to keep saying no to Sam so I let him have me. Straight away he said he loved me and then he proposed. So I moved in with him and we both slept in his bedroom. It had all worked out very conveniently because the girl I shared a flat with let me know that she was not coming back and I couldn't afford the rent on my own. Sam was not very lucky because after only a couple of weeks I had to start a three month stint on the night shift. I'm a nurse and some like to work nights permanently but to make up numbers everybody else has to take a turn on the rota.
So I was at home during the afternoons and Sam's younger brother was as well because he was out of work. Danny was only seventeen but he is a big strapping lad. Almost straight away he started coming on to me but I told him he had no chance because I loved his brother. "If that's the case then how come you screwed our dad?"
It turned out that on that particular night he had his own designs on me and had been hanging about waiting for his father to settle down. He had seen Len creep into my room and knew that he had stayed for a very long time. Danny said that the noises he had overheard left no doubt about what we had been doing. He didn't make any threats but I think the possibility of him telling Sam was in both our minds. The end result was that I agreed he could fuck me just the once to make him the same as his father. The trouble was that he was built just like his father and for someone so young he was terribly good at it. From then on we screwed every afternoon but I did insist on using protection. Despite that I did end up pregnant. I had enjoyed five shagging sessions with Danny for every two with Sam so you can see what the odds where on who was the father. In addition the condom tore on at least four occasions with Danny (they were rather tight on him and he was far more energetic) but there were no problems at all with Sam. I had no doubt that it was Sam's brother's kid.
Sam insisted that we get married straight away and I didn't disagree. It was arranged very quickly with the only delay being a short wait while Sam's elder brother got leave from the army to be the best man. I could not believe my eyes when I saw Joe because he was gorgeous. He was in the paras so you should have a good idea what he looked like. Looking round at the reception I couldn't help thinking that Joe was really the best man there. When he claimed his kiss from the bride he slipped his tongue into my mouth - it was only very brief but it really made my toes curl and later, in bed with Sam I got off by pretending that he was his big brother.
I had a little boy and we called him Troy. As a wife and mother I decided to put my past behind me and start being a 'Goody Two Shoes'. Both Len and Danny had other ideas. Whenever either of them got me alone they would squeeze my tits and rub up against me but I have never minded being groped - it can feel quite nice and it doesn't do anybody any harm. I had enjoyed going with both of them but I wasn't married at the time. Life went on fine until Troy was nine months old and then we had a bit of an upset.
Sam had taken me to the social club - there were meant to be a couple of strippers and a good comedian on the bill. We were sitting on stools at the back of the room when the bloke next to me started getting very familiar - I think that I must have been with him some time or other. Unfortunately my husband happened to notice this guy's hand in my pants and he went absolutely crazy. There was an incident, Sam got arrested and later on he was given three months in prison.
The first night back after my husband had been locked up, Len came into my bedroom while I was still undressing but I sent him off with a flea in his ear. Then almost as soon as I was in bed, Danny came in, full of confidence and with his dick already hanging out but he got no change out of me either. It caused me to come off the pill though. For one thing they gave me side effects but the main reason I did it was to avoid temptation. The thought of going without for three whole months scared me silly and I knew that a craving for a nice stiff cock might make me behave recklessly. I knew how easy it was to slip up and I couldn't possibly get away with it twice so I was trying to make it too risky for me to open my legs to anybody. Two days later Joe turned up - he said he had just heard about Sam and had come to see if he could help. I would have liked nothing better for him to bunk in with me but he got some digs a couple of streets away.
I could not have managed without him. Joe hired a car and took me to visit Sam every time it was allowed. Other times he drove me and Troy into the country, bought us meals and generally acted like a stand-in father. The sex thing was in the air between us but we didn't. There wasn't the slightest bit of messing around - I didn't even let him kiss me because I knew that if I did that would be it. Sam could see how well we got on together and he didn't like. More than once when Joe had gone for a slash, Sam said, "What do you keep bringing him for?"
I told him flat, "It's Joe that brings me and if he didn't I'm damned if I would drag myself all this way on the bus with a baby." That shut him up.
The day after Joe went back to his regiment Sam was released unexpectedly and he burst into the bedroom as if he was expecting to catch me and Joe at it. Finding that he was mistaken he got me into bed himself and started working off a month's deprivation - I had got so desperate myself that I had resorted to sticking the hairbrush handle up there So I was as eager as he was. It just had to be my most fertile day of the month and the result was inevitable.
Nine months later Elizabeth was born. Well not quite nine months because she was two weeks premature and that's what has caused the problem. That might not have mattered if Sam had not noticed a small birth mark on the back of the baby's neck. Joe has one exactly the same and so has his father. I could see that it was just a family mark but Sam jumped to a more obvious conclusion and when he counted back nine months from the birth and arrived at a time when he was in prison there was no convincing him that I had done nothing wrong. Life went on and I'm not saying that he didn't grow to love our little girl but he is always on at me to confess.
When little Liz was five months old I went back to work again and they put me on nights straight away. I immediately came off the pill again for health reasons and because condoms made very little difference to Sam the few times that he was able to screw me. I spent the afternoons alone without being bothered - Len was at work and Danny had also gone into the army. Then one day Joe walked in. He said that there had been a court martial and he had been detailed to escort the prisoner back from the Middle East. He had taken him to Catterick and managed to wangle a couple of hours before he had to catch his flight back. I told him that I would make us a cup of tea but as I stood at the sink waiting for the kettle to boil I was trembling all over. I don't think that either of us drank a single mouthful because next thing we were in bed and going at it hammer and tongs. After a blissful two hours, Joe went for his plane and nobody but me ever knew he had called - but exactly nine months later Daemon was born. Well that's it - that is my story. I would rather that Sam never knew but if you can use it I don't mind.'
"Didn't Joe ever guess that he was the father of Daemon?" I asked.
"I'm sure that he has a pretty good idea but he isn't going to rock the boat. He's stationed in England now and I see him from time to time."
"We fuck like rabbits whenever we can but that is nowhere near as often as I would like. It does keep me away from other temptations though," Mandy told me frankly. Then she grinned and added, "I could be tempted by lots of other men because out the four males in Sam's family I really did draw the short straw - if you get what I mean."