Chronicles of a Shared Wife Ch. 14

We do have a chat about it but as usual Chris plays it down, suggesting I perhaps saw some washing blowing around on the line.

Washing my arse...I know who it was...and I suspect he does too.

The back garden is fully enclosed by a high wall on two sides and tall hedge on Toby's side, only way in is the bungalows own side path which has a big gate at the front end, unlocked.

But a stranger wouldn't know that, and someone would have to have prior knowledge of what we were going to be doing that night.

This encounter brings a new dimension to my worries, again the troubling question...why would any mother want to listen to their son fucking his girlfriend?...let alone watch them?

And even more troubling, why would the son want his mum to listen or watch?

This knowledge does affect how I feel about Chris and from this point on our friendship changes. Gone are the days when I used to look upon him as this sweet innocent naive guy, there appears to be a much darker side to him.

Yes I have played my part in 'corrupting' him. But I believe this thing with his mum may have already been there and just needed the right kind of catalyst...namely myself.

So, as our friendship enters this difficult phase I wonder, rather worryingly, what will happen next.

And as it turns out I don't have long to find out, I'm about to quite literally make a discovery that will ultimately bring to an end my time with Chris.

**

It was a cold wintry night in mid December, I was back in Chris's bedroom...but only because he'd put curtains up at the big french windows.

This was only the second time since the 'peeping tom' incident.

We'd been doing it at our house for the past couple of weeks. But Chris never felt comfortable there, what with the possibility of John or one of my sons discovering us.

Everything was going fine, Chris seemed more like his old self. We'd just been on his bed having some good old missionary...my favourite. It had been a long session with my young lover now in full control of his old premature problem and able to easily go the distance, and then some.

I'm laying there in the afterglow while he leaves the room to retrieve another cold beer from the fridge.

Listening to his footfalls receding down the corridor...and then another noise...subtle... but there in the background.

I've heard this noise in the past, in this room. Not paid much attention before but this time for some reason it piques my curiosity.

Laying there listening, off in the kitchen I hear Chris opening the fridge door...there....there it is again...a sort of buzzing noise in this room close by, above the bed.

Sitting up and looking around, not seeing anything that takes my interest at first...but then...

High up on a book shelf something catches my eye, standing up to investigate, reaching up and moving a model of a star wars tauntaun, something partially hidden behind.

Grasping hold of the item, my heart beating faster with the realisation of what it is...a mobile phone.

It's been placed carefully on the shelf with the back facing outwards and angled down, turning it around my mouth slowly drops open...I'm looking at my bare legs and feet on the screen and a slowly pulsing red 'record' light...it appears that Chris has been secretly videoing us.

I'm actually more surprised and curious than angry, initially.

He has taken revealing still pictures of me before and also one short video of us fucking, he knows im ok with it so why do it covertly?

Stopping the recording, I examine the phone in more detail.... It has a black front and pink case, clicking onto the menu I see what made the buzzing noise, two text messages, it must have been put on silent vibrate.

But it's when I see who the messages are meant for and thus the owner of this particular phone...that I really become concerned.

As the realisation hits me, Chris appears in the bedroom doorway, his relaxed and happy look being instantly wiped off his face.

"What are you doing with that?....how did y..."

Interrupting him while holding up the phone between us, "Who's phone is this?"

My serious look and tone, tell him I mean business.

On confronting my dominant side Chris predictably goes scurrying for the comfort of submission, initially feeding me a lie.

Staring at the phone he says, "It...it used to be mum's but she gave it to me."

He's swallowing frequently and looking nervously from the phone to me and back again.

I know Chris is lying because one of the text messages appears to be from a friend of Barbara, asking if her son is still going out with that 'older lady'.

"Don't lie to me...who's phone is it?...Chris?"

My words are louder this time and contain genuine anger, I can feel myself beginning to tremble with the adrenaline surge.

Chris seems to flinch, swallows again then in a quiet meek voice, "It's mum's."

He goes to sit down on the bed, perhaps expecting me to join him but I don't, I'm still in shock as this warped situation unfolds before me.

All this time I've suspected first Barbara of eavesdropping and then Chris of secretly helping her and now I have proof.

Chris begins to apologise and this quickly descends into a sort of breakdown, he becomes almost hysterical.

To the point where, despite my anger I soften a little and sit down next to him.

Interrupting my distraught young boyfriends ramblings I firstly calm him down with quiet words of reassurance, then ask, "You gunna tell me what's going on here?"

Chris is swallowing almost continuously, red faced and looking so anxious, when he speaks his words are quiet and have a slight tremble, "She...she just wanted to watch...that's all...just wanted to see us."

Swallowing myself now, this is unreal.

"So all this time...when I've suspected her of spying on us...it was all true wasn't it?...and the figure in the garden?...that was her?"

Chris is nodding.

"I knew it...I mean right now...I don't fucking believe what I'm hearing but I still knew it."

Chris begins apologising again, then says something strange, "We knew you wouldn't want to do it...so the phone was the next best thing."

Knew I wouldn't want to do it?

Just when I think it can't get any worse, "What do you mean?...Chris?...look at me...what do you mean?...wouldn't want to do it?"

Chris stares down at the floor for what seems like a long time, appearing to gather his thoughts, or perhaps courage to say what comes next.

Then, beginning to look up at me, he drops a bombshell, "Mum...she wants to watch...you know...while we do it..."

Interrupting once more, my mind beginning to spin with the knowledge of what he's trying to say, "Wait...you mean... be there in the room with us while we..."

This time Chris interrupts me with a growing excited response, quickly leaving his anxious state behind, "Yeah...yeah exactly..."

Now I see a flash of something in his eyes that I really don't care for, it doesn't look like the Chris I know at all, "...it's kind of kinky really...when you think about it..."

Chris continues, explaining in an overly enthusiastic way what would happen, what they would both like to happen.

And throughout his eager description, he seems unable or unwilling to read the shocked expression I'm wearing, as the true sordid details are laid bare. Perhaps it is the sheer excitement at what he's proposing that blinds him to the extreme nature of what he's saying.

I see within him a rapid and dramatic change of character reminding me very much of when I act out his pee fantasies...Mr Hyde...we meet again.

What I'm hearing and seeing leaves little doubt that there is much more to Chris than I ever realised, still waters do indeed run very deep.

I sit there and listen wide eyed to a very excited and animated young man revealing his latest ultimate fantasy, a fantasy shared with none other than his own mother.

Chris tells me it all started after that first incident when Barbara had been discovered in the hallway apparently home from work early.

After I'd gone home she'd had a little chat with Chris in which her true intentions of eavesdropping were revealed.

This is the part where any normal son would have been horrified and probably walked out in disgust, but how Chris explains his reaction to me reveals a very unique bond between mother and son.

They both openly talk about the matter, each becoming more aroused as the conversation continues. Their interaction reminding me of conversations I've had about sex with my friend Rita.

During this initial conversation Chris agrees to help his mum listen and watch while I am with him. But in later intimate 'chats' with her, things go much further and this is when their shared fantasy takes shape.

It all comes out, everything, Chris seemingly oblivious to my increasingly agitated and shocked state.

But I don't stop him, I have to hear everything.

Chris doesn't hold back, he's so excited that watching his animated behaviour is actually quite scary.

Their ultimate goal is for Barbara to be present in the bedroom while we do it. But it gets much worse, even though Chris knows that I have no bi tendencies he enthusiastically suggests that after we have finished he watches me...with his mum.

Apparently she is bi curious and fancies me as her first 'taster'. Chris even proudly points out that no actual incest would take place as it would be mum watching son then son watching mum, he delivers this information in a way that is obviously meant to appease me.

However, it's not the incestuous aspect that repels me, rather the fact I've been lied to and my intense dislike of Barbara.

At some point, my mind, already reeling from the volume of bizzare information it's taking in, reaches overload...and something snaps.

Suddenly standing up off the bed and going to get dressed, quickly.

Chris is so obsessed with describing this fantasy to me that he initially fails to realise what I'm doing.

Only catching up when I'm almost fully clothed, he suddenly goes silent, causing me to look around while buttoning my blouse up.

The fervent look has gone from his face, replaced by a sort of bewildered stare, as though coming to from a trance...Chris...back in the room.

Now, on realising I'm leaving, he returns to hysterical mode.

Between the begging for me to stay and profuse apologising I manage to get a few words in, telling him that I can't deal with this right now and need to leave.

Also I take the phone with me, informing Chris in no uncertain terms that he'll have it back when I've deleted anything to do with me.

My last view of him, in that place anyway, is a naked Chris stood in the hallway, promising me he can change.

Pausing at the open front door, "I'm sorry I can't do this...I have to go." Then turning and closing the door behind me, walking down the garden path for the last time.

**

Arriving back at our house, John instantly knows there's something wrong. After we embrace I begin relating to my hubby what has transpired that night.

He is as shocked as me, who'd have thought it...meek and mild Chris certainly has a peculiar relationship with his mother, quickly earning him the nickname Norman from John. The weird behaviour I describe reminding him of Norman bates from psycho.

Then we check the phone...

It is immediately apparent on reviewing the footage that our intimate time together has been under surveillance for a while, there's video going back quite a way. There are lots of short clips filmed in the hallway, a shiver runs down my spine as we watch Barbara's view of slowly, carefully, walking down the hallway towards Chris's bedroom.

Pausing outside, so close, on the video we can hear my moans of pleasure and the squeak, squeak, of bedspring.

There's footage from the garden too, several short videos shot on different dates. We see the path that goes down the side of the bungalow, one of the gates being opened by a disembodied hand, Barbara's hand, then very slowly creeping towards the french windows. I've been filmed lots of times before but seeing myself being secretly filmed from the garden like this makes me feel self conscious and embarrassed, as well as downright freaked out.

John seems to be enjoying the footage, watching young Chris ravage his wife. But for me? I just feel sick knowing who is doing the filming.

After viewing most of the videos I delete them.

I am acutely aware of the hypocritical aspect here, me, getting angry and upset for being secretly filmed having sex. We have videod without their knowledge, men being intimate with me in our bedroom. We've done it several times and even captured Chris on camera a few times.

So now I'm getting a taste of my own medicine and perhaps I deserve it, fair enough.

However, the fact that the person secretly filming me is the guys own mother, kind of makes my case for being upset a little more valid.

In the coming days after I stormed out of Chris's home, I was inundated by emails, text messages and phone calls from him. All begging forgiveness and apologies.

Initially ignored, my conscience developed an appetite.

Deep down I care for Chris. And as such, I felt I owed him a face to face meeting, at least to hand Barbara's phone back.

Not sure of what venue to choose, wanting somewhere on neutral ground and a public place, it's Chris that actually suggests the café where our first 'date' took place.

On arrival the place is nicely quiet, in stark contrast with our first meeting...what seems like so long ago.

I won't go into detail as to what was said between us.

Suffice to say and that briefly, he was apologetic but also resigned to the fact I was no longer 'that' part of his life.

I gave him the phone back and we agreed to stay friends, nothing more.

And there, in that small café, where it all began...it ended.

End of chapter 14.

Epilogue.

We kept in touch, emails mainly, the odd phone call.

Our special bond survived the end of the physical relationship and we flourished as friends, albeit distant ones.

I encouraged Chris to join a dating agency, one of those online things.

By early spring the following year he was dating, not much, just the odd date here and there but it was something.

Knowing his past I felt so guilty for leaving him but I just couldn't do it, every time I looked at him I saw her...they came as a pair.

It's strange how people drift in and out of your life. They seem so important at one time and then they are gone.

I suppose all good things come to an end. We had a good run, did lots of exciting things together.

Our communication became less and less as both Chris and myself had other things to occupy our time.

Suddenly I realised it had been months since I'd heard from him, then a year.

Looking back, perhaps I overreacted, a knee jerk response from me due to the shock of being secretly filmed by Chris's creepy mum Barbara.

Incest is a very popular fetish which I fully understand, my first crush was for my own uncle, so I'm no stranger to the subject. Although Chris claimed there would be no physical incest between him and his mother, it's my personal belief that what they proposed was a kind of watered down version.

And when you think about it, if I had have agreed to be intimate with Barbara, straight after her son had finished with me...

This learning experience gave both myself and John a new respect for people and we never filmed anybody else covertly, always asking permission from them first.

As for Chris? A happy ending?

Well in this case yes.

He went on several dates with girls his own age, none of them amounting to anything. Then we kind of lost contact for a while, personal commitments etc.

The next time I saw him he was holding hands with a much older woman, perhaps in her fifties. She was there with him and Barbara.

She looking lovingly at her son and his new girlfriend.

It made me wonder.

What was going on behind closed doors in that bungalow?

There's a song by Charlie rich that always reminds me of Chris...and his mum.

No one knows.

What goes on...