Triple Tales

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.