Playing with Fire

I took a taxi to the airport, and only as I waited to be called to board did I allow myself to think again of what would have happened at the club.

In all probability, my wife had been fucked by several men. At best, she had been naïve. Just possibly, she had gone intending to experience what she had seen other women do. I needed to work out how I felt in either case, and how I should handle my wife's naïve, or intended, infidelity.

I felt hurt, disappointed, let down, angry, and betrayed.

I pictured her at the club, and then pictured her doing what she would be doing as the plane flew at five hundred plus miles an hour back to London, and grey cloud below petered out to green land far below. My wife would be picking up our children.

There was no way I could do anything else except accept what had happened, and work from there. I was not going to end our marriage. If you play with fire, as we had been doing at the club, then you cannot scream too hard if you get burnt. Maybe Sarah's arrangement with her husband made more sense. Maybe if I had gone to her room, I would feel less betrayed by my own wife.

The kids were still up and excited when I walked in. Two bedtime stories later, Louisa and I stood in our kitchen sipping wine, and I finally asked her how the club had been.

My wife just laughed.

At the time, I did not really get her sense of humour, but describing all this now, several weeks since the event, I guess that I can see the funny side of things.

Louisa then saw that I was not laughing with her, put on a more conciliatory face, set down her wine, came over to me, wrapped her arms around my neck, and leant into me with all the softness of her womanly body, asking me if I had really thought that she would have gone to the club without me. She had sent Rebecca home, switched off her phone to tease me, and watched some of the girly shows on television that she did not get to see when I was home.

Then she asked me what I thought she had done.

For a moment I was mind-blown. All my angst had been unnecessary. All my imaginings were just that, imaginings. No one had groped, fondled, sucked or fucked my wife while I had been away. I was just relieved that I had turned down Sarah's offer to sleep with her, or my guilt would have been too much to bear.

Just the same, it might feel good to tell Louisa what I thought, or feared, had happened, not in the kitchen, but later, as I did, upstairs, once I was between her legs, and my cock was back where it belonged. I shared with her as well, my encounter with Glaswegian Sarah, omitting what had happened in the lift, but telling her about the pussy flash.

Louisa asked if I had been tempted, and I said that of course I had, but that I had not gone there. She kissed me in gratitude for that, telling me that she hated the thought that I would ever sleep with another woman, and asking what I would have done if she really had gone to the club, and let someone fuck her there.

I told her the truth, that I would have learned to live with it, that I loved her, and would still love her, even if that had happened, and my wife gave me another lingering kiss, grateful for that love. Right then, I felt so close to her, and not just because my cock was still rock hard and deep inside her.

Louisa gave an impish smile. Maybe, she suggested, she should actually do what she had pretended to, and go there on her own, just to see what would happen if I was not there, if I was right about the reception she would receive.

For putting that thought in words, I fucked her long and hard.

The office in Aberdeen got sorted out. The guy I had identified as a weak link was given notice, receiving three months' salary and a cardboard box with his personal items already packed.

Rebecca babysat for us the following Wednesday, and Louisa wore the bodysuit. She looked superb. She certainly got the attention that she deserved, looks and surreptitious comments. She seemed more confident than usual, if that was possible, or maybe it was just my imagination working overtime.

Certainly, one group of guys, late twenties, in business suits with neat white shirts, open collars, five of them in all, seemed very interested. They waited for an hour or so, just watching us, as we had a drink or two, wandered around a little, and watched some other people, until Louisa excused herself and headed to the bathroom.

One of the guys came over, casually, nothing pushy, asking if I would like to watch them with my wife this time. I turned down his invitation, but registered the last two words that he had said. He backed off, hoping that I had not minded him asking, and Louisa came back to join me a few moments later.

In one of the rooms with a vinyl mattressed bed, Louisa gave me an exquisitely prolonged low job, before we traded places and I fucked her. We got an audience. Two couples, and five single guys in business suits, one of whom I recognised. It was just the kind of turn on we enjoy, more so, since I was wondering if the guys behind me had fucked my wife the week before.

Back at our house, Louisa checked on the two kids, and I gave Rebecca the forty pounds that covered the four hours we had been away. She thanked me, and when I asked her about the week before, she told me not to worry. Louisa had given her fifty pounds when she got back.

I guess when you play with fire,... but then I have always loved that my wife is hot.