Lisa in the Bedroom

It was the hottest night of sex we'd ever had, and I made sure to thank her, both that night as we fell asleep and the next morning, over a nice relaxed brunch. She beamed and blushed a little, and said, "just trying to keep my man happy!"

****************

Again--what's the problem, right? The wife in sexy lingerie, her best blowjob ever, a hot night of fucking, and the problem is ... what?

That's certainly how I felt at the time. But ... things kept happening.

About two weeks after the champagne blowjob, Lisa surprised me in the shower. I'd spent most of Sunday doing yard work and I was tired and sweaty. My hair was full of shampoo and my eyes were closed when I felt a momentary draft, and then my wife was holding me from behind, pressing her lovely breasts against me, kissing my neck.

"Okay if I help?"

Needless to say, I didn't seriously consider replying, "no, I'd rather shower alone." We hugged and kissed, and soaped each other up, and played and giggled. And when we were clean, and I had a big honking erection, she bent forwards and put her hands on the wall and said, "could we try it this way, Tommy?"

Again, do you think I said, "no thanks?" I used my hands to find her opening and slid my cock slowly into her, all the way to the hilt, as we both groaned at the same time. And then we fucked, and it was fantastic. Intense, almost animal, unlike anything Lisa and I had done before. She started pushing her ass back, slamming against me. For awhile I didn't push too hard, afraid of hurting her; but then she got me so worked-up I grabbed her hips and thrust into her as hard as I could, and we both came at nearly the same time, staggering.

I was wiped, and I had to lean against the wall to keep from falling. I could feel Lisa's legs trembling. I pulled out of her and turned her around and held her, her face against my chest, kissing her hair. We rinsed off without a word, and then I dried her gently with a big bath towel, picked her up in my arms, and carried her to bed, where we lay down and fell asleep, sweetly locked in each others' arms.

A few days after that, I started hugging and kissing Lisa after dinner and said, "up for a little fun?"

"Sorry, Tommy, my period started this morning."

I started to say, "okay, honey, that's fine," because she never wanted anything to do with sex during her period. But to my surprise she continued, "how about if I take care of you tonight?"

She led me into the bedroom, got us both stripped down, and gave me a wonderful massage, culminating in a gentle hand-job that had me panting. I thought she'd finish me that way; instead she gave me another blowjob. No fancy tricks like champagne or anything, but she took her time, showed plenty of enthusiasm, watching my face to see how I liked it, and again she let me shoot my cum into her mouth and swallowed it all, grinning proudly at me when she was finished.

About two weeks after that, we were doing it in missionary position when Lisa's fingers started roaming around my ass, tentatively dipping into my asshole. We'd never gone anywhere near ass-play, either hers or mine, because it had made her very uncomfortable. She didn't even like to talk about it.

So I was surprised--and aroused--by her exploring fingers. As I pumped harder, getting ready to come, she continued to tease me there, and at the last few strokes she slid a finger a couple of inches inside me. I bellowed and shot my sperm about nine miles up into her. And as I lay there, gasping on top of my sweet, sexy wife, I began to wonder: what the hell is going on here?

On my way to work the next morning I thought hard about it. The frequency of our love-making hadn't changed dramatically--it might be up a little bit. But Lisa's openness to new things was startling. It wasn't just openness, either--she was the one taking the lead.

Our sex life had recently featured 3-4 new pieces of lingerie, after Lisa saw how much I loved the red nightie. One time when we were getting ready to fuck and I assumed we'd do it in missionary position, she rolled onto her right side, pulled her left knee up towards her chest and said, "can we try it this way, Tommy?" So I slid into her that way, my chest against her side, and fucked her hard. We both liked it a lot.

I also realized that Lisa wasn't as quiet as she used to be in bed. In our first few months as a couple I had to listen carefully for the changes in her breathing, or the little gasps, to learn what excited her. But lately she'd been sighing, groaning out loud a little, saying "oh, Tommy" or even "yes, YES!" as she approached a climax.

I started making a mental list of all the tricks Lisa had introduced. She'd given me a reverse blowjob, lying on her back on the bed with her head hanging over the edge while I stood on the floor. That gave me a fantastic angle into her throat, and it was a weird thrill to feel my balls rubbing across her face while I gently thrust into her mouth.

Okay, I thought, we'd been a little drunk that night--maybe that explained it. But what about the night we were fooling around and she suddenly led me outside to the patio, and had me do her bent over the table? It was a dark night, but the neighbors on either side could have easily heard us. That was hardly the behavior of my wife the preacher's daughter!

By the time I got to work I'd started to be worried. What might better sex at home mean? It could be that Lisa was just loosening up, as she got more comfortable being my wife and the ties that bound her to her upbringing weakened. But why now? Why so suddenly? We'd been together more than four years, with a pretty limited sexual repertoire, and I hadn't been complaining. Then within a period of a couple of months, Lisa was making a high-speed transition from "girl next door" to "sex kitten."

As unlikely as it seemed, and as much as I knew she loved me, I couldn't get past the possibility of an affair. It seemed crazy--I kept telling myself that. But then another part of me responded, "yeah, well, but her new sexual adventurousness is pretty crazy too, isn't it?"

I had broached the question with her once or twice, after she suggested something new and wild. A week or so after she explored my ass I tried the same thing with her--carefully. We were making love on our sides and I caressed her ass, then experimentally touched her rosebud, expecting her to tense up. And she did, a little--but then she moaned and pushed her ass back towards my fingers, inviting me to go further. I worked my pinky all the way inside her and used it like a little dildo as we humped each other, and Lisa seemed to love it.

When I brought it up, later that evening, Lisa's reaction seemed a little too chirpy.

"Just trying to keep my baby happy!" she said, smiling at me; but I sensed some tension behind her eyes, something she wasn't saying to me.

"I'm already happy, Lisa--you know that, right?" I said. "I mean, you don't have to do anything special for me."

She came and sat on my lap, kissing me. "I know I used to be kind of a stick-in-the-mud, in bed I mean. And you've been so sweet with me, so patient. I guess I just decided it was time for me to, I don't know, spread my wings a little."

Something wasn't right--I could tell. But I didn't push her any further, just kissed her and told her how much I loved her.

****************

But I was uneasy. Uneasy enough to do something about it. I began by paying more attention--to Lisa's schedule, to the things she told me about work each day, to what she said about her friends or co-workers. I kept track of who she had lunch with, which days of the week she tended to be out of the shop a lot, and what days she seemed to be more or less into sex, or more or less "experimental."

And after nearly two months I'd come up with: zero, pretty much. Lisa was never home late from work--or not more than about once or twice a month, and then it was only a half-hour or so. We always hugged when we first saw each other, and she never smelled either of sex or of a recent shower. I'd quietly checked 2-3 months of our phone records and hadn't found any mysterious numbers she'd been calling. I went through her purse one night, and the address book she kept in it, and came up with nothing that shouldn't have been there.

It DID seem that Tuesdays were sexier than our other weekdays--like many working couples we had most of our sex, or at least our more relaxed sex, on the weekends. Weekday sex tended to be more routine and sometimes just a quickie. But Lisa had initiated sex on most Tuesday nights for the past few weeks, while I couldn't remember that having been a pattern in the past.

Moreover, some of her "tricks" had made their first appearance on Tuesdays. So for lack of anything better to try, I focused on that day. I casually asked her as much as I could about her schedule on Tuesdays, without tipping her off to my suspicions. I called the shop several times on Tuesdays--to ask her to an impromptu lunch, or discuss dinner plans, or even just to say hi. And I dropped by once in a while, with the excuse that I'd been running an errand nearby.

Once when I came in and Lisa was out on a delivery I chatted with Angela, the other manager of the store. I was very discreet, just asked "how's business," and so on; and I learned that in the past couple of months Lisa's delivery schedule on Tuesdays seemed to have picked up.

"I never thought about it before," she said casually. "Tuesday's not usually that big a day, you know? Lots of things right at the end of the week. But lately it seems as though she's been doing a lot of running around on Tuesdays."

On my way back to work that day I wrestled with my feelings. It still seemed absolutely crazy that Lisa could be stepping out on me. Nothing in her behavior or attitude suggested that she was bored; or angry; or felt contempt for me. She was still the loving, even adoring girl I'd married.

On the other hand ... SOMETHING was going on. And I certainly wouldn't have been the first unsuspecting husband to learn that his wife had been hanging horns on him.

Near the end of the day I knocked on the office door of Bob Mathis, my supervisor, and spoke to him for a few minutes about my schedule. Basically, I asked if I could take some half-days off on Tuesdays, and make up the hours by staying late on other days or coming in for half of Saturday.

I explained that I was doing some kitchen remodeling and it was hard to do on the weekend when Lisa was home--much easier during the week when I was alone.

I didn't want to push it and ask for the whole day--but I was a valued employee and Bob accepted my request without a second thought. I figured I'd watch Lisa some mornings and some afternoons, until I figured out when (if ever) she was up to something I needed to know about.

****************

I hated to rent a car every seven days, but I didn't see any other way for Lisa not to spot me; so I bit the bullet and paid the $35 each week, hoping I wouldn't have to do it for too long. I didn't.

Trying Tuesday afternoons first, I followed Lisa for three weeks. At least half the time she was in the shop, working on arrangements. And when she did leave in the truck it was for routine deliveries: hotels, the hospitals, occasionally a private home. I made careful note of the addresses, but she never went to the same house twice and was never out of the truck for more than five minutes.

Was this good news or bad? Was I crazy, a foolish suspicious husband who saw Bigfoot lurking behind every tree? Was I chasing the Loch Ness monster?

I had no idea--but I was in too deep to stop. Besides, on the second Tuesday afternoon I'd spied on Lisa--and found nothing--I came home at dinnertime to the biggest shock yet.

The kitchen was empty, except for a note that said "waiting for you upstairs." And what I found in the bedroom was Lisa, stark naked, sliding a vibrator slowly in and out of her pussy while stroking one nipple with her other hand. (Needless to say we'd never had a sex toy in the house before--and I'd NEVER seen her masturbate. Just talking about the subject in the past had embarrassed her.) Her eyes were a little glazed and her hips were making small circling motions as she gazed at me.

"Sorry, baby, I wasn't gonna start without you but you're a little late..."

I wasted no time getting my clothes off and Lisa into my arms. We kissed and touched while she kept playing with the vibrator. She wanted me to plunge it into and out of her pussy while she blew me--that took a little re-arranging, with my feet up near the headboard, but it was worth it! As my vibrator work got her more and more excited her sucking got more and more intense. Finally she pulled away from my dick, panting and gasping, as the vibrator and my tongue on her clit brought her off in a screaming orgasm. It was the most intense one I'd ever seen her have.

"Come here," she said, pulling me on top of her, and I started to fuck the hell out of her. We were doing it missionary, banging against each other, when she surprised me again. "Hang on a minute, baby," she said, pushing me gently off her.

She arranged herself with her ass right at the edge of the bed and moved me around to stand between her legs. "Now come inside me again," she said, and handed me the vibrator.

So I went back to fucking her, rubbing the vibrator all around her clit, and she went crazy. She bucked and humped and cried out and her pussy spasmed around my dick, and I fucked her like mad for as long as I could--which wasn't very long--before shooting into her with a loud cry of my own, and collapsing on top of her.

"That was intense," I murmured, and she just kissed my neck and squeezed me in her arms.

I raised up on an elbow, after a few minutes, and said, "Lisa--is there anything ... I mean, you've been so ... "

And her face seemed to tighten, just a tiny bit, almost imperceptible, and she said, "just trying to make things fun, honey. I really love you." And she pulled me back down, my face against her neck--as if to make sure I couldn't keep looking into her eyes.

Holding me like that she said, "it IS fun, isn't it? I mean, you don't mind ..."

"Baby, it's been unbelievable!" I kissed her neck. "I have always loved making love with you, but you've been ... it's been fabulous!"

She giggled happily, and held me tighter.

So I switched to following her on Tuesday mornings. I mean, you can see why I didn't give up checking on her, right?

****************

And, sadly, it didn't take long. Much of her Tuesday mornings was spent in the usual way: at the shop, or making deliveries to the hospitals or the hotels, or occasionally a house.

But there was one house--at 238 Sanderson Lane--that she visited for four consecutive Tuesdays. And she was there at least an hour each time, sometimes an hour and a half.

And she didn't deliver any flowers--just rang the doorbell, waited until the door opened, and stepped inside.

****************

Probably three times would have been enough for me, or even twice. But I just couldn't believe it. I kept thinking it had to be something else, something innocent. And I kept going back.

After the fourth time I just sat there, watching from a few houses away as Lisa's delivery van drive away. I just sat--and thought.

My wife was cheating on me.

But she loved me--was crazy about me!--and I loved her.

But she was cheating on me. An hour a week with some guy--or woman?!--in a house on Sanderson Lane.

It had to be something else! But what? Why would she be going there every week and keeping it a total secret? I mentioned that I'd been keeping careful track of her life, asking her lots of casual questions about her schedule, friends, work--and she'd given not the least hint of this regular "appointment."

My mind cycled through a variety of possibilities: an aerobics class. She's taking dance lessons. Meeting an old boyfriend. Shit, no! Making a quilt as a surprise for my birthday. Being blackmailed for sex. Why?! Visiting the child she gave up for adoption when she was 16, or with a long-lost sister she never knew she had.

The trouble was, none of the innocent explanations convinced me. And the fact that my once-repressed wife was now stretching our sexual boundaries with such zeal kept pointing me back towards the worst possible conclusion: she was fucking someone else.

And out of guilt, or some desire to make it up to me, she was bringing home all the new tricks her lover was teaching her and teaching them to me.

How do you think I felt about THAT? To say the least, it made me view all the fun we'd been having in a different, much more humiliating light.

****************

I realized I'd been sitting there more than an hour after Lisa left, lost in my unhappy thoughts. A red Miata pulled up to the house, and a tall, long-legged, gorgeous brunette in tight jeans and a Miami Heat jersey strode up to the door, rang the bell, and disappeared inside.

Motherfucker! Some guy wasn't content to just bang my Lisa every Tuesday morning, he had another cookie lined up as well?

Suddenly all my confusion, all my drifting thoughts and indecisiveness were gone. I was pissed. I was fucking furious!

I drove straight back to Lisa's shop, roaring through some yellow lights and even a couple of just-red ones. Lisa was at the back when I entered, adjusting some cut flowers in the refrigerated case. She turned and smiled broadly at me.

"Hi, baby, what's--"

I strode forward and took her by the arm, ignoring her startled look. "We're going for a ride. Angela, please excuse Lisa for a little while, it's kind of an emergency."

"Tommy, wait, what's going on?" She resisted me a little as I pulled her towards the door.

"You'll see, just come on."

"But--" she resisted me, and I pulled harder. "NOW, Lisa!"

Confused and frightened, she came along with me. I opened the door of the rental car and she turned, saying, "Tommy, where's your car?"

"This is a rental--I'll explain later. Just get in." She complied, watching me with fear in her eyes.

I swung the car out into traffic and headed back towards Sanderson Lane, my jaw set tight in anger. Lisa made several attempts to speak to me, to get me to tell her what was going on, but all I would say was, "you'll see soon enough."

She gave up and sat back, making sure her seatbelt was on--I was driving pretty aggressively. It wasn't until I turned onto Sanderson that she stared at me and tried again.

"Honey?"

"Oh, now you know where we're going, do you? I guess you've been down this street often enough!"

She started to whimper. "Baby, I'm sorry, I know I should have told you. It was just that--"

"That what? That maybe I wouldn't be so happy about you getting a little on the side? That I don't really see myself as the cuckold type?"

"What?" She stared at me, utterly dumbfounded. "Tommy, I ... I don't think you understand what ..."

"Oh really?" I shouted. "I think I do, actually! And you're about to see that you're not this scumbag's only plaything, either, in case you had any illusions about that!"

The red Miata was still in front of the house, and I swerved in to park right behind it. I jumped out of the car, ran around to Lisa's side to pull her out, and walked her briskly up the path to the front door.

"Tommy, you're making a big mistake--it isn't what you think at all!"

"Oh, isn't it? Well, we'll get to the bottom of this soon enough!" I rang the doorbell, waited five seconds and rang it again. I did this seven times, bursting with rage and impatience, before the door opened and an attractive Latina woman in her late 30s looked at me curiously. I could see the tall brunette from the Miata standing just behind her. They were both fully dressed.

"Yes, what do you--Lisa! Hi honey, is this your husband?" She smiled at me warmly, not the least apologetic or abashed. Then she turned back to the brunette and said, "I'll see you next week, okay Monica?"