Chapter 2

Claire's revelations stunned him. Scott sat and stared off into the distance, seeing nothing except prurient images of his loving wife fucking other men, faceless men right now, except for Josh. His mind roamed over the past. He tried to remember situations that would have given her an opportunity for a quick, nasty and exciting fuck, a one-time, never-to-be-repeated fuck, as she put it, but the past was rife with opportunities, too many for him to select any one circumstance with the slightest degree of accuracy. If his marriage continued, and at that point he seriously doubted he could keep it together, he knew she would have to tell him everything - in detail, at least with the detail she had expressed in her "fantasy" last night. He couldn't spend the rest of his life imagining her with other men engaged in quick, nasty fucks. Whether his imagination would exaggerate or fall short would not matter. Unless he knew everything, he wouldn't be able to keep their marriage together.

He sipped his coffee and looked down. He had another erection. It poked up at the sweats he wore, and it throbbed. Why? How could he detest the thought of Claire with another man so vehemently but still be excited about the situation at the same time? He sighed with exasperation when he realized his libido continued to betray him as much as Claire's infidelities.

He still felt weary, but he needed to do something, something to take his mind off the pornographic images that kept flashing into his thoughts. He jogged some mornings. Perhaps exercise would clear his mind. He hesitated. Claire had rushed away in tears. Should he go to her? No, at that moment he would only make her cry again. They needed to somehow control their emotions, both of them, and talk, tell each other about how they felt about everything. She had to listen to him, and he would listen to her, and maybe somehow they could fashion a solution to the problem together, create a course of action they could both live with. She still loved him, she professed, and curiously, he believed her. He knew he still loved her, would love her regardless of what course their marriage would take.

He pushed himself to his feet and walked out the front door. He started slow, but the damned images continued, so he picked up the pace, forced his mind to hear only the sound of his shoes slapping the sidewalk, forced his mind to see the barren trees and clear blue sky, forced his mind to feel only the roaring in his ears and the cold, crisp air pumping in and out of his lungs. And finally the images went away.

Claire didn't equate love and sex, she had told him - another revelation. He wasn't certain what that meant, but she believed she could be unfaithful and still love only him. They looked at the world around them differently. His world, he knew, was the more normal, standard view of things, but Scott was wise enough to realize other viewpoints had validity. The question in his mind was whether he could live with the knowledge of her infidelities, both from the past as well as those in the future, because he also realized she would probably avail herself of a future "opportunity".

He returned a half-hour later and found her back in the kitchen nursing another cup of coffee. She had dressed and dried and brushed her hair and put on some makeup, and except for slightly swollen, red eyes, she looked so lovely his heart went out to her. She seemed happy to see him. Had his absence frightened her? Had she feared he had left her? No, she knew him better than that. She knew he would need to talk their problem through before deciding what they would do about everything.

She smiled and jumped up as he plopped sweaty and out-of-breath on a stool by the kitchen counter.

"I have fresh-squeezed orange juice," she said and without asking poured him a large glass from a pitcher. "Another cup of coffee?"

"Yes. I took a run." He reached for a dishtowel lying on the counter and wiped his face.

"I noticed." She handed him the juice and poured him another cup of coffee. She sat back at the kitchen table. "Scott, you said you didn't like me anymore but you still loved me..."

"No, I said I didn't like you as much as I did. I still like you. You are still my best friend, Claire." Which was true - a best friend who had betrayed his trust.

Her face softened and she looked relieved. She patted the table to her right. "Sit here next to me, Scott. We need to talk."

"I'm sweaty. I should probably take another shower."

She smiled. "I like you sweaty. I like the way you smell right now. It reminds me of your odors after we make love sometimes. Come here - next to me, please."

He shrugged and moved the coffee and juice to the table. After he settled in the chair, she took his hand in hers.

"I love you, Scott, more than you can imagine. I don't want our marriage to end. I love you and little Katy. The two of you are my life. I fucked up, I admit, big time. I let my nature rule my actions, and I'm very, very sorry. I hurt you badly, I know, and I hope someday you can forgive me. I promise I will never be with another man again. I sincerely and honestly promise I will never be unfaithful to you again."

She had used similar words in their marriage vows, but...

"I wish it were that simple, Claire. I truly do, but even if you keep your promise, other problems must be dealt with. You mentioned one of them - your nature. Sometime in the future another opportunity to be with another man will develop, an opportunity where I would never find out, even from a third party, that you had been unfaithful again. I've lost my naiveté, Claire, and my trust."

"I know," she said and her enthusiastic expression turned lackadaisical. Her entreaty and promises had failed.

"And I can't just forget about the past," Scott continued. "After you rushed away in tears, I sat here at this table, and images of you with other men - faceless men, except for Josh - flashed through my mind. I can't live without knowing everything, every detail, Claire. My imagination is as active as yours. I would spend the rest of my life creating lurid scenes of you with other men. I'd invent circumstances that never happened, and over time, the images would eat at my love for you and eventually destroy the strong, positive feelings I have for you."

Her eyes widened. "Surely you don't want to hear every lurid detail of my past flings?"

"Yes I do. I need to know everything, Claire, and you can't leave anything out, and you can't sugarcoat anything to try to minimize the impact. If you want our marriage to continue, I'll need to know everything. Once I know everything and can put my imagination to rest, I believe I can experience a catharsis and fold you back into my arms again. Without such a catharsis, we're finished."

Fear struck her eyes. "Can you handle the details, Scott?" she asked anxiously.

"I don't know. If I can't our marriage will end. This is the only chance we have, Claire. I'm sorry. I wish it were otherwise."

She sat considering his request. She shook her head and started to speak, but then clamped her mouth shut. Finally, she said, "Okay. I'll tell you everything, every detail, but I have a few conditions, too."

"Such as?"

"You must promise not to leave me until I've told you everything."

"Granted."

"And I want some time to tell all - say a month, maybe two."

"All right."

"And I want you inside me when I tell you about each event."

"I understood the first two conditions, but not this one."

"You mentioned my nature, Scott. You, too, have a peculiarly instinct. You become excited when you think of me or see me with another man. I don't understand this part of you any more than you understand my need for a different man from time to time." She smiled. "Besides, telling all will be painful for me, and I'd rather have you excited and inside me than sitting across a table from me gazing at me with a shocked, accusing expression."

He considered her comments. She was correct. Like her, he didn't understand why he became aroused when he thought of her with someone else, but he did. He couldn't deny his nature any more than Claire could deny hers.

He nodded. "Okay, I accept your conditions. About this time frame of yours, do I have the right to request a session?"

"Yes, but I also reserve the right to deny the request. There will be times, Scott, when I just won't be in the mood to tell all."

"I understand because there will be times I just won't want to listen. Katy will be with your parents until this evening. May we get started this morning?"

"Of course."

"And I have another request. Will you please tell me the events in chronological order?"

She scrunched up her face. "I'll try, but won't promise."

"Fair enough, but this morning I want to know about the first time."

She nodded and pushed herself to her feet. Holding out her hand for his, she said, "Let's get started."

He had insisted on a shower before they began. She reclined on the bed naked, waiting for him and feeling anxious, but curiously aroused, too. This might work, she thought. If she told him everything...

But could she tell him everything? A couple of times, even she had wished she had denied her nature and had detested her sluttish behavior afterwards. That's why she had refused his request to tell everything in chronological order. She could tell him about the first time. It had been fun and nasty and exciting, but the second time...

She'd skip the second time for a while.

She heard the shower suddenly go silent. He would join her soon, would slide his wonderful cock inside her and listen to her first bona-fide confession. She touched herself, spread the lips of her pussy and lightly brushed her fingers over her labia. She masturbated frequently and wondered if Scott still masturbated. With the current open sexual climate between them, she could ask him, she knew. Perhaps they could masturbate together. She had played with herself for other men in her past, and watching a man stroke his own cock until he spurted his juices into the air excited her. Her pussy was damp, but not wet, but her clitoris had peeked out slightly from behind its hood. With a wet finger, she rubbed it tenderly, and her eyes rolled back in her head.

"That's sexy," Scott said.

Her eyes snapped open, and she guiltily jerked her fingers away from her cunt, like a child caught in some wrongdoing. Then the humor of situation struck her, and she laughed. She had no reason to feel guilty about touching herself while she waited for her husband to join her in bed. Christ, in a few minutes she would inform him about the first time she had fucked another man after they had married. Besides, he had just informed her he considered her fingers busy on her cunt sexy. Reaching again, she spread the lips of her cunt and watched him as he gazed at it, watched as his lovely cock lengthened to half-hard when she shoved a finger inside as far as it would go.

"Do you still masturbate, Scott?"

"Yes, once in a while." He chuckled self-consciously. "Old habits die hard."

Her smile widened. "Tell me about it! My old habits have caused the mess we're in. Come here," she patted the bed next to her. "I want to watch you play with yourself. I'll start my first confession, and we'll masturbate together until you get the urge and put your cock inside me. Okay?"

He rolled onto the bed, but instead of facing her head to head, he lay on his side with his head toward the foot of the bed. "I can watch you finger fuck yourself better this way. Do you mind?" he asked as his hand wrapped his now hard cock.

"Not at all." Her fingers dipped inside her pussy and extracted some of her natural lubricant. She spread the moisture over her pussy lips and clitoris. "I remained faithful for about a year, Scott. I tried, I really tried to be faithful, and I passed up a number of opportunities until... damn, this is more difficult than I thought it would be." When his eyes moved away from her cunt to her face, she said, "Come up here and put your cock in me. I need the connection to continue."

He slipped into their talk-and-fuck position, and with some short, stabbing thrusts was finally fully inside her. His fingers replace hers at her clitoris.

"Until?" he inquired.

"Until the washing machine went caput. You told me to call a repairman, which I did, and when I opened the door to him, I couldn't believe the male specimen standing before me. He was about six four or five with wide shoulders and a deep chest - and young, in his late teens, I guessed, certainly not more than twenty. Blond hair and deep blue eyes. Handsome, but not too pretty - very masculine. Later that morning I deduced he was dumber than a post, but his mind didn't attract me, only his body. Knowing myself like I did, I took him to the washing machine in the utility room and left him to his task, purposefully putting some distance between us. It didn't take him long to discover the problem, and he stepped into the kitchen where I was seated with a cup of coffee. He informed me it would be cheaper to buy a new washing machine than repair the one we had. I asked if his company sold washing machines, and he told me they did and hurried outside to his truck for some brochures. Sitting next to each other at the table, we discussed the pros and cons of various machines, and our hands accidentally touched - knees, too. I knew by the way he looked at me he wanted me. And God help me, I wanted him. It had been a year, no longer, a year and a half, at least, since my last quick, nasty fuck. The air was thick in the kitchen, thick with lust. It emanated from both of us. He was talking about some damned washing machine when he locked his eyes on mine and suddenly went silent. He reached and caressed my cheek with his huge hand, and I melted. I caved in, Scott. All my promises to you and myself fled as if they'd never been uttered. Without knowing how it came to be, I found myself straddling his lap with his hands boldly roaming over my body while I plunged my tongue into his mouth and ran my fingers through his thick hair. And he was hard, God, he was hard. I felt his cock poking at me, and I grasped it in my hand over his trousers while moaning into his mouth."

"Jesus," Scott muttered. "My imagination would have never invented such a scene."

"Does it make you hot?"

"God, yes."

"Me, too."

"Go on."

"Are you sure? It gets pretty lurid, Scott." Not for the fist time, she wondered if his demand for details had not arisen out of a need for catharsis, but rather a prurient need on his part to relive each event. She could feel his cock throbbing inside her, and his fingers had pushed the hood completely up off her clitoris. She was soaking wet and very excited. Could she finish the confession before one of them climaxed?

"Continue," he growled.

"I was wearing a t-shirt, no bra, and he pushed it up and off and fastened his mouth on my tits. He had a large mouth. God, everything about him was large, including his hard cock. I had to see it, had to feel in my hands, inside me, maybe even in my mouth."

Scott groaned and stopped moving inside her.

"I jumped up off him and quickly unfastened his jeans. His cock was long and thick, as long as Josh's and as thick as yours. I stripped and straddled him again. He mauled my tits with his hands and mouth as I stroked his cock, and then I raised my hips and rolled the crown of his cock through my wet cunt. I was so hot by then, Scott. I could think of nothing but feeling that cock inside me. I didn't consider how you would feel or what my sluttish behavior would do to our marriage. At that moment, I considered nothing but my need for a quick, nasty fuck with this relative stranger. I settled down around his cock and whimpered as he rotated his hips up at me and sank the monster about halfway inside me. His youth and inexperience betrayed him then when he suddenly climaxed. He groaned mightily and grabbed my hips, jamming my cunt forcefully down over his ejaculating cock until I took him fully inside me. Surprisingly, I climaxed, too. As his semen spurted inside me, my cunt started to quiver, and then went into a full flutter when deeply inside me the wondrous sensations of an orgasm built and spread until it blossomed. No the orgasm didn't blossom, it literally exploded, and then washed over me finally relieving all the sexual tension that had been building since the repairman had arrived at our door."