Mid Life Crisis

I lay fighting tears and hoping to sleep for quite a long time but then found a reason to hope. Some years before, an exceptionally attractive student teacher joined the school staff. She was said to be freshly married but within her first month she rang me at home on a Saturday evening saying how much she fancied me and describing in graphic detail all the sexually lewd things she wanted to do to me. We talked for nearly two hours and ended up with me arranging to go round to her flat the following afternoon while her husband was away. It would have been easy to tell Anne I was going to play golf.

By the next day I had come to my senses and rang to cancel. I avoided her at school from then on and later that year she was sacked after being caught having sex with a sixth former. I did not physically betray my wife but knew that had opportunity been available during that long conversation I would certainly have committed adultery and it was this knowledge of my own fallibility that had made it relatively easy to forgive Anne's historical infidelities, given the spontaneous nature of both seductions. My hope came from the fact that if I had baulked at setting out in cold blood for a sexual assignation, my wife might do the same.

The next morning I woke to find myself alone in bed. I shaved, ate some toast then went out to get some Sunday newspapers. These I placed on the hall stand then searched until I found Anne ironing in the utility room. I would have liked to just look at her for the rest of the day in case I was about to lose her but, after exchanging a few sentences, I forced myself out in the garden for a couple of hours, where a combination of the warm autumn sun and concentrating of different tasks managed to lighten my mood a trifle.

We shared lunch but talked only about the garden and other neutral subjects. I had accepted that, despite my hopes, Anne intended to follow through with her arranged infidelity. I wanted to get down on my knees and plead for her not to go but foolish pride prevented me. Instead I avoided the subject completely and so did she. Afterwards she went upstairs to the bathroom and I retired to my study to work through school papers detailing the latest government changes to the National Curriculum.

Later in the afternoon, freshly bathed, my wife started preparing the Sunday dinner and Chloe appeared in the later stages to help her. This left me alone with Andrew and I took the opportunity to tactfully question him about his cousin. "I don't like him and it's only pressure from extended family in London that made me agree to let him move in." he told me. "He upset some drug dealers down there and has moved north until the heat is off. I feel very uneasy being around him which is why I was so keen to move in here." This information definitely did not help my peace of mind.

We ate a pleasant meal with desultory general conversation to which both Anne and I contributed far less than usual. When the plates were empty, my wife made her excuses and disappeared upstairs leaving us three to clear the table and fill the dishwasher, after which the young couple went back upstairs to their flat. During the next couple of hours I tried to read the as yet unopened Sunday newssheets but found that the printed words on the page totally failed to reach my tortured brain.

Exactly on eight o'clock Anne appeared and stood in front of me with a small overnight bag on her shoulder. She looked absolutely gorgeous but it hurt to know she had gone to so much trouble for another man. At forty-three her face totally belied the passage of time but her body undeniably now showed maturity; however I far preferred the full breasts and rounded hips of her current form to that of the very pretty but rather skinny girl I married. My instinctive desire was to rush forward and embrace her in my arms but I sensed that she had already withdrawn herself mentally from me.

On other occasions over the years when heading out she would pose and ask 'How do I look?' but now she said simply, "I'm almost ready, I just need to ring for a taxi. I'm certainly not leaving my car parked on the street overnight near that place." But then, seeing my surprise she explained gently, "I can hardly expect you to take me to him."

"For the last quarter of a century, whenever you have gone anywhere without your car I have driven you there and I see no reason to change that now," I said proudly.

We rode in silence until I pulled to a halt outside the gate leading to Andrews flat. I scanned my mind for something appropriate to say but quickly rejected the whole range from the generous 'I hope you have a wonderful time' to the more casual 'Have fun'. Even the sincere and truthful 'I love you' seemed too laden with reproach in this context, so I said nothing.

I think that Anne also had trouble finding an exit line. She partly opened the passenger door but remained in her seat staring forward for a long moment then turned to face me. Her gaze found mine and her body swayed slightly forward as if intending a kiss but then turning abruptly, she exited the vehicle and walked quickly up the short garden path. She did not look back. For at least a minute after she disappeared from sight behind the front door I continued to stare at where she had been but then let in the clutch and drove sadly away.

On earlier occasions when I had dropped my daughter outside her boyfriends house in the middle of the day I had only been aware of several streets of large Victorian terrace houses, most in a fairly run down condition. Now as I made my way home in darkness, the scantily dressed females on every street corner indicated the true nature of the area and I was thankful that Chloe at least had now no reason to go there.

Back at home I drank hoping to find mental oblivion but despite consuming more than double my usual quantity, I remained determinedly sober. In the end I gave up, had some black coffee and went to bed resigned to contemplating the horror of my situation. The first question I asked myself how I should behave when she returned and this brought the immediate realisation that I would welcome her with open arms. Unfortunately this inevitably suggested that I was prepared to accept my wife's ideas on a more open system of marriage.

In favour was the fact that her earlier infidelities had done our relationship no harm and that, now after assimilating the knowledge, I was fairly easily prepared to leave them in the past. Analysing myself I conceded that I could put up with future flings in the same way if I only learned of them after the event but countless painful days like this yet to come was an intolerable prospect.

This conclusion meant that I had to abandon the marriage unless perhaps I could I start deriving pleasure instead of pain from her adventures. I had heard of men who did but found that hard to understand. The only possible explanation for complaisant cuckold husbands was that, at least initially, they had unselfishly sacrificed themselves so that their wives were able to enjoy pleasures that they were unable to provide and if you have provided pleasure by proxy perhaps you were entitled to also enjoy that pleasure, if vicariously. I should mention that the train of thought needed to reach this rationalisation actually took far longer than the summary might suggest.

With no more arguments to occupy my mind I was no longer able to hold at bay mental pictures of Anne with her lover. It is easy to understand why females are attracted to large male sexual organs because, even as a man, when watching porn if the male protagonist is less well endowed (even though still bigger than me), I derive decreased excitement from the whole event. I like big breasts but find that beyond a certain optimum size, further increase rapidly reduces desirability and wondered if the same was true with women and cocks. Possibly not because my wife was most certainly enthralled by this guy's apparently enormous python.

Knowing what must be happening at that moment caused three radically different emotions that seemed to succeed each other in rapid succession and not always in the same sequence. There was intense arousal caused by the primitive nature of the carnal image in my mind, there was gut tearing jealousy that another man was enjoying my wife's lovely body and there was black rage that this man had stolen her passion if not her affections away from me. These emotions began to overlap until all were present at the same time and then something weird happened. I moved onto a completely different mental plane, an ecstatic plane, divorced from time space and even reality.

Next morning I woke in almost zombie mode and went into my usual morning routine on automatic pilot, shaving, eating, and going in to school. I managed to take the morning assembly but in my office, after dealing with two items of mail, I decided I was incapable of functioning and returned home. I let myself in but had only removed my jacket when Anne walked into the room. I had assumed that she would go straight to work after her night of sin so was surprised to find her there. I think my face must have lit up on seeing her because she stepped back defensively and I was in fact about to rush forward and embrace her. We stood frozen facing each other until I broke the silence by asking, "Well?"

"I never dreamed that sex could be so good," she said and I could see the truth of that statement on her face.

Her words were like a knife to the heart but, remembering my night time resolve to try to take pleasure in her pleasure, I suppressed my natural reaction and said, "I'll put the kettle on and you can tell me all about it."

My wife shook her head. "I'm staying with Jerome a few more days but I will be back by Sunday I promise. I didn't expect you to be home so I've written you a note."

For the first time I noticed a packed holdall by the side of a chair. "So you haven't even time to talk to me now," I said bitterly.

"I'm sorry but Jerome is picking me up, I think he's outside now," she said, as a loud blast from a car horn confirmed her belief. Anne grabbed her bag and almost ran to the door but there she turned and asked," Please try not to let Chloe find out where I am." Then she was gone.

The note explained that Jerome was moving abroad almost immediately and that she was only making the most of him while he was still available. She also mentioned contraception saying that her old diaphragm was still a good fit. (After Chloe was born my wife became allergic to the pill and had used a diaphragm for some eight years until I had the snip.) Anne obviously considered her absence as merely several one night adventures crammed together but to my mind she had left me and this invalidated my new resolve to allow her occasional sexual freedom. Perhaps she would try to call it a break because 'taking a break' seems par for the course for couples nowadays, with both partners generally grabbing the opportunity to jump in bed with someone else.

This new development gave me greater clarity of mind and, resigned to a solo future, I went into stoic mode. At school I got through the rest of the week with ruthless efficiency and at home maintained the house, read and watched selected TV programs. I had three moments of weakness, all late at night, when twice I found myself surfing for porn without a conscious decision to do so and on one occasion found tears streaming down my face for no immediate reason.

Honouring my wife's leaving request I left extra plates and mugs out in the kitchen, moved Anne's car slightly each day and left the shower running whenever I knew Chloe was likely to come downstairs. Also, guessing that Saturday would be difficult, I made space in the garage and hid her mother's car in there for the day so that she would appear to have gone out shopping..

I was sitting reading the newspaper on Sunday when Anne walked in. She was not wearing make-up, her hair was unwashed and I had never seen her looking so tired. "You are back then, "I said coolly, "For good?"

"Only for tonight, I've got to go back to him tomorrow but I don't really want to," my wife reported in a flat voice.

"How do you mean 'have to'? You don't have to do any fucking thing you don't want to," I said angrily."

"Jerome says I now belong to him and I don't want him hurting you or Chloe, he has already threatened and I know he's capable. He only let me come now because I said I could get hold of some cash."

"If he is holding you there against your will, I'll see what the police think about it."

"Please don't," Anne begged, "That would only make matters worse and it is only for a few more days. He's got a big deal on Wednesday that's going to make him tens of thousands and once he gets the money he's catching the first plane out of the country. He won't want me then and even is he does he can't force me onto an aircraft. Now please can I take a bath and get myself clean. I'll tell you everything then, I promise."

Anne eventually reappeared, looking more herself, but she had lingered in the bathroom and by the time we had grabbed a quick lunch, Chloe had already come down to give her usual assistance. So it was the evening before, holding a glass of wine, my wife began her story.

"That first night was totally wonderful. The first few times he pushed his cock in I felt almost as stretched as I did when Chloe was coming out. It hurt as much too but there was the same element of pleasure mixed in. Instead of straining for an orgasm I seemed to be cumming continuously and when he took it out I felt so empty, craving to be filled again. I thought I had landed in paradise and I wanted to stay there forever."

Anne paused to take a large gulp from her glass. "That's how I still felt on Monday morning when you saw me but I was just being greedy. If I hadn't said I would return to him Jerome would have let me go then. As it was, the moment we got back to the flat he fucked me hard. I was still bruised and tender from the night before and needed him to be gentle but Jerome didn't care. There was nothing else to do in that flat so he fucked me every two or three hours throughout the day and the days that followed. It got so I only really enjoyed it when I was riding him. I'm not saying there wasn't still quite a lot of pleasure near the beginning but by the end of the week I couldn't help cringing every time he forced my legs open. The only way I could gain some respite for my cunt was to get him to cum in my mouth."

"What exactly is this deal?" I interrupted to ask.

"Jerome is going to Bolton on Wednesday and expects to finish up with loads of cash. I also know he's got a locked bag that he keeps under the bed. He keeps getting cocaine out of it but whether the bag is full of drugs I'm not sure. Oh yes, and the reason he is up here is because some gangsters are looking for him. So you see it will all be over in a couple of days, three at the most and I'm sure I can put up with Jerome fucking me for that long, especially after having a bit of a rest tonight."

"I still think we should tell the police, especially if drugs are involved. I would far rather that you didn't go back to him."

"That's the worst thing we can do," Anne insisted with a look of panic in her eyes. "These kinds of people regard informing to the police as an honour crime, we'd be looking over our shoulders for the rest of our lives."

In the bedroom, in a repeat of the night almost a week before, we undressed on opposite sides of the bed. It was an unpleasant surprise to see that her genital area was now shaved completely clean but far more disturbing was the state of her body. Anne was covered with bruises from bite and nip marks, especially round the nipples and there was a thin narrow semi-circular bruise across the tops of her breasts, obviously caused by his heavy gold chain. Instead of quickly concealing herself beneath the covers Anne just stood and let me visually examine her. There was an enigmatic expression on her face and I couldn't decide if she was proud or ashamed of her battle scars.

We got into bed but both lay close to our own side. I had no desire sex for and could postulate three possible reasons why not. One, I think I felt that she had been contaminated from contact with that vermin. Two, I don't think I could face my average sized penis being directly compared to his outlandish organ. Three, although not accepting for one moment that Anne was now his I didn't truly feel that she was still my wife. At some point before we fell asleep she whispered 'I love you' but for the first time ever I felt unable to respond.

Next morning we rose early. After breakfast I rang the school to say I would be in late while Anne reverted to her housewife role, efficiently dealing with tasks I had left undone and others which would set me up for more days alone. Even when there was little more to do, she kept wandering round, trailing her fingers over the furniture. The time was easing towards noon when the door bell began to ring and the continuous sound indicated that someone was keeping a finger firmly on the button. I went to the door and after taking the precaution of fixing the chain, I began to open it cautiously but the moment the lock had cleared the door burst violently open, tearing the chain from the wall and hurling me backwards down the hall.

A very tall angry looking black male strode in, snarling, "Where the fuck is ma bitch?"

"I assume that you are referring to my wife," I asked a touch haughtily and that was a grave mistake because he covered the distance between us with amazing speed and struck a pile driver punch to my shoulder. The whole left side of my body went numb and I fell to the floor but he wasn't satisfied, lifting me by the front of my shirt and pulling back his huge fist for a massive blow to my face.

Thankfully, at that moment Anne rushed forward shouting, "Leave him alone J, I overslept that's all. I was very tired."

Very reluctantly, Jerome uncurled his fist but before releasing me he warned, "If I find out you touched my hoe I'll be back, know what I'm saying."

When they had gone I tried to assess the damage but still had great difficulty moving my arm and it was late afternoon before I regained full use of my fingers. That evening I managed to see a doctor, got a sick note for the week and settled down to wait. Monday and Tuesday I had no expectancy and on Wednesday only hoped my wife might be back. Thursday I was prepared for her to walk in at any moment but was disappointed and Friday passed in the same nerve wracking way. However, just after 9 p.m. the door bell rang.

This time I sensibly looked through the peephole before opening to see my dear wife standing on the door step. As soon as the door opened she staggered in. I was shocked by the way she was dressed and totally horrified by the state of her face because her left eye was completely closed and a massive yellow and purple bruise spread down that cheek. Her dress had been cut so short that most of her thighs were on display and her breasts were almost hanging out. "If he comes after me please don't open the door and be very careful because I know he's got a gun," she begged.

I helped Anne to the bathroom with an ice-pack for her eye then while she bathed I ran up to knock on Chloe's door. Handing them a handful of cash and a credit card I said, "Please don't ask any questions but I want you both to grab what you need, then leave now and stay in a hotel until I tell you to come back. You can take your mother's car"

Chloe went straight into spoilt daughter mode but Andrew gave me an astute look and asked quietly, "Has this anything to do with Jerome?" When I nodded he coolly took charge and affected a speedy departure. In the time left before Anne reappeared, wearing different clothes, I went round the house finding potential weapons and leaving them in strategic places.