Wesome

This story has been submitted as part of the "Sharing is Caring" event.

Off the bat, thanks to Black Randi for putting this event together. I get to rub elbows with so many other authors. It's great to have things like this happen, and I'm happy to participate. This is the first story I've submitted as part of a a larger event. There are certainly better stories out there from some Literotica heavy hitters, so I do appreciate those who take a chance on mine.

Normally I'd give somewhat of a background for how this story came to be. Since this event has a theme, I assume readers know the type of story they are reading. For new folk, I always do provide a bit of life experience in every story. That said, this is fiction.

Here's how the story starts. I have a job that provides a comfortable income. My wife Jill also has a job even though we don't need it, but extra income is always nice. Our two kids have college paid for without needing loans. We can all take vacations, and our retirement is secure. We don't have our own jet, but we don't need to worry about finding that next Groupon either.

The names of our kids aren't important to this story, neither are our jobs, exact ages, or where we live. I won't be fleshing out any details that have no bearing here. I'm not ex-military, don't have awesome hacking abilities, not in the Mafia, or some kind of martial arts ninja or super lawyer. I have no extraordinary skill set, so my mundane hobbies are also irrelevant, as are the childcare arrangements, school hours, and other details that took place so this story could happen the way it did. I'm protective of my kids, so I don't like talking about them unless they impact the story.

As Joe Friday often said, "Just the facts."

For you sex fiends out there, Jill is attractive. Not a knockout, not a bombshell, but attractive. She's sexy in the girl-next-door way, and she's aged well. When we went to a ten-year high school reunion, most of the "hot" girls hadn't. Jill had. Medium sized tits, a firm ass and a good face have held up well.

Then there's me. I'm not "gotta fuck him material" at all these days. I never really was, but I wasn't Quasimodo either. Not unattractive then, but much less attractive now. I look like a man past my prime. There are hair issues. I have a receding hairline, but a ton of body hair to compensate. I had the body hair from an early age, but it's exploded as I've gotten older. Jill seems to like it though. One of my favorite memories is not of sex, but of being in bed together and hearing her voice as she snuggled into my chest after a hard day.

"I just need my warm fuzzy right now."

With that comment, she made me feel ten feet tall. As for the rest of me, I am in fairly good shape for my age, and been told I still have a nice butt. My cock is average (I've used a ruler and done the research), so that part of me is not any woman's fantasy.

As to our sex life, Jill and I both had had a few partners before we met, but neither of us hit double digits. Most of the experimenting we did was with each other. As far as past experiences went, we were on the same level. Again, nothing relevant as far as an individual experience goes that the other partner didn't have.

What is relevant to this story though, is people owe me favors. I'm what people call a "nice guy." I'm the guy that you can call to bail you out of jail at 3:00 in the morning. I'm the guy who will lend you money, although I always consider it a gift when I do. If no one pays me back, I'm not angry. The ones that who pay me back, I file away in my brain. The ones who don't ... one and done. Jill always liked that about me, it never caused a problem in our marriage.

Jill works with Susan, and Susan is married to Paul. Both are around our age, and they have no kids. Well, Paul has one from a previous marriage, but they have no kids together. Susan wasn't able to have them, and she had no desire to adopt for maternal reasons, or adopt some kind of Cambodian orphan for dubious reasons. Again though, that detail is not relevant to this story.

We'd gotten to know Susan and Paul over the previous two years. Jill liked Susan, and she was her 'bestie.' Jill told me that Susan was bisexual, which at the time I just took as an interesting fact. That's not odd; I have gay coworkers. While I'm not attracted that way, I do understand the prurient interest in a sexuality I don't understand.

All I said when Jill told me that was, "Huh. How interesting." What I didn't say, was it did put thoughts in my brain. Not of her and Jill, but of Susan and a bisexual woman I created from whole cloth in my mind, because as far as I knew, Jill wouldn't go for that. Jill was as far from exploratory sex as a housewife from a 50s' television show.

While my mind rapidly was creating a mini movie of Susan and a woman ripped from the pages of Playboy, Jill said, "But it's completely open with her and Paul. Paul is fine with that, as long as he participates. They have a rule that nothing happens without the other partner involved."

"Wow."

I was amused by that. Jill and I had quirky friends. And we all were friends.

Paul and Susan came to our house. We went to theirs. We did things together. I liked them both. Paul and Susan were always complimentary toward Jill about how she looked, and I never felt bothered. I felt like it was just two people giving my wife her due. I also complimented Susan on how she looked, and didn't have to lie. Susan was stroking hot, not that I'd ever say that, or admit to having masturbated thinking about her a time or three. Paul is a good-looking guy (from what I've been told women find attractive), but Susan was clearly next level attractive between the two of them. I had no problem acknowledging Paul was a chick-magnet though. We all had that level of comfort.

My job didn't often involve travel, but once a year we had a training seminar. Jill and I always swapped phone calls every day I traveled, and I had no more reason for suspicion during that time than any other time. There was only one night I called her that and she didn't respond.

"Hey love, guessing you're away from your phone. I'm up, call me back when you can."

She didn't call back that night. I just assumed she'd gone to bed early or the phone wasn't charged. It was my last night there. I'd see her the next day, so I wasn't worried. Not something to be worried about. The worry came when I arrived home.

Jill was acting... weird when I got back. I couldn't put my finger on it, but she seemed more interested in my trip than ever before. It was just a normal trip. I wasn't sure why she was asking about it. In hindsight, I realized a lot of those questions came up when I asked her about her week. There was also a mention by each of the kids about having a sleepover with a friend on a weeknight. That wasn't odd. What was odd, is that by coincidence they both had theirs on the same night. It didn't click for me at the time that had been the night Jill hadn't been available for my call.

The signs were small, so it wasn't any one thing. It was the accumulation. Paul gave me a big hug the next time we were together after that trip and said, "I love you, man." That was strange. He normally wasn't so effusive. It only happened once, but the rest of our times together felt "off" somehow. When we interacted, I was hearing double entendres that didn't seem funny to me. I love a good joke, but some of these jokes didn't make sense. It was like everyone except me was in on it. Also, when Jill laughed, it seemed more like a nervous laughter. At the time, I chalked it up to her not getting the joke either and being polite.

To make a long story short, I wasn't even aware I was suspicious, but a foundation had been laid. I can't say I was prepared when Jill woke up and said she was sick, but without that something in the back of my mind, I would have just ignored it and just made sure the kids got off to school okay. I never would have questioned it, but the previous night, she showed no signs of coming down with anything. Then that morning she was suddenly sick. My radar was suddenly on full alert. I kissed her head and told her, "Maybe I should also call in sick to work and stay with you."

She responded with, "No, I'll be fine."

I could have insisted, but I was worried I was being paranoid. People get a bug, it's not like she was vomiting or coughing up blood. So I said, "Okay, I'll call to check up on you. If you're not feeling well, I'll rush right home."

She said, "Oh, I might be asleep."

"Well, if you are, I'm coming home to nurture you."

I said it with a smile. At that point, I didn't know anything, but I did want to plant a seed. Not sure if it was to prevent something from happening, or to make sure she assuaged my fears by answering my texts. Yeah, if she was sick, I was being a terrible husband. I knew that, but my anxiety was getting worse.

I regretted my choice on the drive to work. This was ridiculous, I had anxiety and I should have just brought it up. I had almost nothing to go on, other than the recent unusual hug from Paul and Jill being off. It was enough to send my mind down some dark and twisted roads at an accelerated rate. As soon as I got to work and went through the morning greeting motions, I closed the door to my office. My mind was racing. I didn't want to distrust my wife, but I did. I picked up the phone. A picture was starting to form, and I wanted to send that picture into the shredder.

I was a bit manic. I called Paul's work, and was told he was taking a "personal day." This added kerosene to my mental agitation. Next I called Susan, and at the time, I was thinking she might possibly have the same concerns. If what I was beginning to suspect was true, she might help as a voice of reason or confirm I wasn't off base here. Turned out, she was "out for the day."

Okay, I'm normally naive and trusting where my personal life is concerned. Coincidences are often just that, but Susan, Paul and Jill all not at work? Best case scenario, a surprise party. However my birthday was months away, so was my anniversary, so was... anything. After learning Susan wasn't there, I talked to my boss and told her I needed to go home because I wasn't feeling well. I can only imagine the way I looked at that moment, because she not only agreed with me, but suggested I should go to a hospital.

Coincidence? Karma? Luck? A lot of things could have happened differently. I didn't hack a phone, didn't hire a PI, didn't do any cool James Bond stuff. What I did do, was drive to Paul and Susan's house. Jill's car was parked in the driveway. Seeing that, I parked up the street. I walked to their home. The rest of it came down to timing.

The door was unlocked. Was it because they always kept it unlocked? Were they not being careful, or was it just a habit when at home during the day? Were they too excited to care? They could have been in the living room. If they were, and had been doing anything, it would have been ugly. If they weren't, but sitting and having a conversation, I'm sure they could have told a story that justified it, one I wanted to believe. That wasn't the case.

I walked into a silent house. There was no sight of anyone in any common area. I was quiet, although I was convinced my heart has beating loud enough to be audible. I finally heard voices, coming from the bedroom. The door was closed, but the room wasn't exactly sound-proofed. I got closer, but it didn't take me long to realize one of those voices was Jill's. As I said, the door was closed, so I had no idea who was dressed, undressed, or in-between. They weren't exactly whispering though. I got closer and I listened. At this point, I was still really hoping for some other possible explanation than what I was suspecting.

Then I heard my wife say, "So sorry I didn't dress for this on the outside, but wait till you see what I have underneath."

Rational thought left my head for a few seconds, and emotion took over. Whatever was going on, I wanted it to stop. I wasn't ready to burst through the door, but I did want to throw a wrench in things somehow. Did she have her phone with her, even though her purse was in the living room? I wasn't sure.

I pulled mine out, my fingers trembling, and texted her. "Worried about you, should I come home?"

I heard Paul's voice, "Oh, I'd like to see the show."

Susan, "Let me help you undress."

And then, "Hold on. Oh shit, it's Garret."

Yes, she did have her phone.

Susan said, "What did he say?"

Jill said, "He's worried about me; guess because I told him I'm sick."

Paul said, "Tell him you're fine. My cock is a cure-all."

At least Susan had the sense to realize an inappropriate comment for the situation. "Paul, quit being an ass."

"Just joking."

Jill's voice came next, "I can't ignore it, Garret will come home if I don't answer. I need to respond."

Paul, "You can say you went to the pharmacy."

"Shut up, just shut up for a moment."

That's when I knew to get out. Again, lucky on timing. I silently went out the front door, closing it behind me, as I sort of ran to where I parked my car. Okay, it was more like speed walking. My eyes were on my phone, waiting/hoping for the next text. As I held it, I realized my hands were shaking a bit. I nearly dropped it when her next text came.

"Baby, am good. Thank u for checking. Back to sleep. ♥"

When I got that, I was down the block, out of sight from the house. I texted back using as few words as possible and while I appreciated predictive text like never before, "Told boss taking sick day. Be home to care for you. ♥"

At this point, I knew one of two things would happen. She'd call it off, race to get home, or our marriage was over.

"No baby, don't do that."

"Already on my way. ♥♥♥"

Here's a relevant logistical fact. For me to get home from work, took longer than for her getting home from Paul and Susan's place. I was going to beat her back, but she didn't know that. I also felt my head start was likely increasing, as her responses to text were less quick than mine. I imagined it was because she also was having conversations with Paul and Susan.

"Baby, no. Don't take off time from work."

"A done deal. On my way. See you soon."

Her response came almost immediately.

"See you soon." She must have cut and pasted that.

This is the part where you can call me vindictive, and that's not entirely wrong, but it's not entirely accurate either. I could imagine the scramble to explain why she needed to leave immediately to Paul and Susan, and that part gave me some perverse momentary pleasure. I was also terrified. I didn't know at that time if she was regretful or just fearful. I wanted to know if I'd stopped something from happening, or heard something that was just about to happen, or about to happen again.

I still didn't know much, so I wanted to see what she'd do. I parked my car on a side street, one she wouldn't see unless she was looking closely, and walked to the house. In hindsight, I felt a bit stalkery. I also felt, why am I feeling that? It's my home. And yet, it felt bad. Judge me accordingly. When she drove up, she wouldn't see my car in the garage.

I was watching the street surreptitiously from a window as her car pulled in. I went to our bedroom and closed the door, sitting on the bed. I waited as she no doubt hastened to get in as soon as possible, and jump in bed to show she was sick by the time I got home. I heard her running to the bedroom. She opened the door and her face went white.

I was quiet. I wanted her to speak first.

I was wondering what kind of rationalization she'd come up with. I was ready to destroy her flimsy alibi. She didn't even try to make one.

"I'm so sorry."

I didn't say a word for a few moments. I don't know what my face looked like, but whatever she saw, she knew I knew. Still I asked, "Sorry for what?"

"Having a threesome with Paul and Susan."

There it was. Imagine the worst case scenario in your brain, at your most paranoid, then finding out it is true. That's where I was. What I said was, "Okay, let's talk."

Jill sat on the bed, not as close as she normally would. There was distance between us now. I'm positive it was not because I showed anger. Nope, didn't show anger then. I wanted to know the details. I wanted to be sure. Sure of what? Sure it wasn't some kind of bizarre misunderstanding. I was still hoping for something else, even then. Extortion, blackmail, drugs, her being an undercover... anything.

It wasn't any of those. We talked. About everything. Nothing was held back. I didn't know what my feelings were at that point. If you've ever been there, you get it. If you haven't, you are either a sociopath, living a charmed life, or too young to be reading this. It was what it looked like, so we moved on to "Why?"

"I did it because I wanted that experience."

"What experience?"

"The experience of being with a woman."

"So why didn't you just do it with Susan?"

"I know this is crazy, but a threesome gave me permission. I couldn't do it with just a woman."

"Why didn't you ask me?"

"Because... because I didn't want you to judge me for wanting that."

I wish I could say I processed that, but I didn't. My response was immediate, and for the first time I raised my voice, "So let me get this straight, instead of bringing this up to me, and risking being judged some kind of freak, you decided the better option was doing it behind my back?!"

She didn't respond to me raising my voice. She just continued, like she had expected it, or wanted to just get it all out. "Yes. It sounds really stupid to say it out loud, but yes, yes, yes, that's what I was thinking."

What I was thinking was, "What planet were you born on? What man in the history of EVER has not been intrigued by a threesome?"

I didn't say that. I was trying to look like I was maintaining control, normally easy for me, but I was struggling to manage it that night. "So it was all about the experience of being with a woman. The part of being with a new guy wasn't part of your thinking?" I managed to say that without a quaver in my voice.

She took a moment to respond. "Yes, that was part of it, but not the main part. It was all a part of it, but I wouldn't have kissed him or played with his dick without her. It was all tied up in the experience. So yes, that was a part of it."

I almost died hearing the words, 'played with his dick'. At the same time, I was also a bit relieved. Jill didn't go for euphemisms. All sorts of thoughts raced though my brain, and somehow her not actually fucking, sucking or giving him a hand job was important. I just said, "Do you regret it?"

"Yes, I do. I enjoyed it at the time. But knowing it has hurt you, I wish I could take it back. I know I can't. I will do anything to make that up to you."

Again the words, 'I enjoyed it', were like a knife in my heart, coated with habanero sauce, except worse. I just said, "I need to know what happened."

She divulged every detail. As I feared/suspected, she had already done it. I just prevented the second time. Confirmation led to conflicting emotions and thoughts. It was only once. I guess that was ... something. I had no reason to think she was holding anything back, or would, based on my reaction then. She was going to tell me everything, but I wasn't sure I'd want to hear it all. If I did, there was a possibility I'd never forget those images in my brain. I know myself that well. I also wanted to know, so I asked her to continue.

Jill said, "I wanted to know if I could make a woman come."

I was a bit numb. My hands had stopped trembling some time earlier, I had no idea when. I didn't want to know the answer, but also did. "Did you?"