I sat staring wide eyed with shock at the TV screen, though I was staring at the screen I wasn't really taking in what it was showing any more. Lord knows how long I sat in that numbed state, but it was only the 'clunk' and auto-rewinding of the tape in the VCR that brought me semi-back to my senses. The tape had been leant to me by a work colleague and he had said that it had been shot by a friend of his the previous weekend, I'd known the contents were porno when I took it from him and had actually looked forward to watching it while my wife was at her sister's. When the tape had started the action was already underway and I had been both intrigued and turned on by the scene of a mature, but damned attractive woman being fucked by three guys at once. What with all the action going on around the woman it wasn't possible to see her face properly until the guy in her mouth came then moved away.
That was the point at which I had gone into shock, the woman being fucked and showing every sign of enjoying what was being done to her was none other than my wife of 25 years, Ruth! Ruth had been a virgin when we'd married and although I had not been I wasn't what could be called 'experienced', but I did enjoy sex. Only Ruth had not been that enthusiastic about the act, nor had her attitude changed with time, 25 years on and we still only made love once a week, with the lights out and in the standard missionary position. I had tried to broaden our lovemaking, but Ruth would have none of it, which left me mostly wanking away on a nightly basis in the solitude of the bathroom. So was it any wonder that I was stunned at the sight of my wife who had denied me so much pleasure over the years enjoying the attentions of a group of men in every orifice of her body. The irony was that despite my supposedly higher sex drive I had not cheated on my wife once in all our years of marriage, and I'd had plenty of opportunities along the way let me tell you, but I had loved her too much to betray her in that way.
"Fuck it!" I cursed into the empty room.
As the minutes passed my shock turned towards anger and a deep feeling of betrayal, oddly I found myself thinking that discovering my wife's infidelity would not have been so bad if she'd shared some of her sluttish actions with me. Getting to my feet I did what any cuckolded male does in such a situation, I grabbed a bottle of booze, which, under normal circumstances, was also something Ruth rationed me on since she claimed not to like the smell of booze on my breath. Looking at the bottle of whiskey in my hand I felt anger bubbling up in me even more, normally what was left in the bottle would have had to last another full two weeks, but not that night. That night I poured a full tumbler of the fiery liquid and drank it down in four hefty gulps that left me coughing, but it did the trick in that the last of my numbness faded in the heat of the liquor. Looking at the blank TV screen I swore and poured another tumbler full of whiskey then sat down and started the tape going again.
This time I watched the tape all the way through, it was only an hour long and the taping had clearly started well after the fun and games had got under way and was still going on after the tape ran out. I watched, seething inside, as my wife catered to the every whim and desire of the men with her, in all that had been four men with only three in view at any one time. She'd sucked them off, a thing that had caused a row between us the one and only time I'd suggested the idea. They buggered her, they took her singly and in groups and in every conceivable position and she had appeared to love every damned moment of it. By the time the tape came to an end I was so mad I could have committed murder yet at the same time so depressed that I could have taken my own life.
"Damn the bitch!" I cursed semi-drunkenly.
Then a thought came to me, the tape had been shot the previous weekend at a time my wife had told me she was going to see her sister, she was supposedly at her sister's again that night, but was she? For 25 years I had trusted Ruth, but now I had to know, was she where she had said she would be or was she off being royally fucked again? Picking up the phone I dialled the number for my sister-in-law, after a couple of rings it was answered by my brother-in-law.
"Tom?" I said into the instrument "It's Bill, can I speak to Ruth."
"Ruth?" came the reply. "We weren't expecting her tonight Bill."
"Oh, I thought she said she was going to visit you." I responded choking back the bile in my throat "I must have misheard her. Maybe I was thinking of last week."
"I don't think so, hang on." Tom replied.
He must have put his hand over the mouthpiece, but I heard his muffled shout to his wife to which she must have replied.
"Still there Bill?" Tom said a few moments later "Mary says Ruth hasn't been over for four weeks now, she was wondering if she was okay."
"She's fine," I said between gritted teeth "I'll let her know Mary's worried about her when I see her."
"Okay, thanks." Tom responded.
Saying my goodbyes I hung up, drained my glass and poured another tumbler full of whiskey. Seething I got up and stalked around the room while I drank, I had no idea what I was going to do about this situation in the long term, but I knew that night there was no way I would be able to sleep in the same room as my wife. Lurching upstairs I made up the bed in the spare room, grabbed some pyjamas and tossed them on the bed then went back to the living room where I continued drinking until almost one in the morning. It was the sound of the front door closing that brought my sorrowful binge to an end, my ever-loving wife Ruth was finally home.
"Good God Bill," Ruth exclaimed almost the moment she entered the living room "you've been drinking, you know how much I hate the smell of whiskey."
"Don't bloody worry," I retorted draining the last of my whiskey "you won't have to put up with the smell of it; I'm sleeping in the spare room."
Before she could get over the surprise of my comment I pushed past her and went upstairs to bed. A few minutes later Ruth opened the spare room door catching me in the process of fighting with my trousers.
"What the hell has got into you Bill?" she asked angrily from the doorway.
"Leave me alone woman ... oof." I replied just as angrily as I fell onto the bed.
Kicking my trousers across the room I glared at Ruth with murder in my heart, she was staring at me as though I'd slapped her in the face. Her reaction was understandable since I had rarely raised my voice with her in all the years we'd known each other. She opened her mouth to speak, raising a hand I swore at her, her face paled and she rushed from the room, with what sounded distinctly like a sob, leaving the door open behind her. Staggering across the room I slammed the door shut then almost fell into bed where I dropped into a drunken slumber that was filled with dreams of my wife, a group of men and them all pointing and laughing at me while they fucked.
"Oh God." I groaned awake somewhere around eight in the morning.
My head was pounding, my mouth felt as though it was full of cotton wool and my teeth itched and all these sensations increased as I slowly sat up. Goodness knows how long I sat on the side of the bed with my pounding head in my hands, but eventually I began to feel somewhat alive, dragging my aching body to the bathroom I took a long slow shower with an aspirin chaser and headed back to the main bedroom to get dressed. As I dressed the events of the previous night flooded back to me and the rising anger dispelled the last of my hangover. When I eventually made my way downstairs I could hear Ruth moving around in the kitchen, I was in no mood to confront her, but I needed coffee.
"Well," she huffed as I entered the kitchen "what was all that about. I don't know what got into you Bill."
Glaring at her I made myself a coffee then sat at the kitchen table, as I sipped at the hot brew my wife carried on talking giving me a full frontal lecture about my conduct of the night before. As her nagging lecture went on my anger grew hotter and hotter until I finally reached a breaking point.
"Shut up!" I shouted at her and flung the half full cup across the room to shatter on the wall opposite.
"Bill!" Ruth gasped, her face going ashen.
I looked at her standing there pressed back against the work surface as though in horror and for a moment my anger faded a little. At 45 Ruth was even more beautiful than she had been when we had first met, her shoulder length black hair didn't have a trace of grey, and her figure had become softer yet in a sexy way. My eyes moved slowly down then up her body noting her perfectly shaped 36 inch bust, the gentle inward taper of her waist and the flare of her hips. I'd virtually worshipped this woman for 25 years, I'd put up with her ways, put up with the difference in our sex drives, virtually gave up drinking to please her. Then the memories of what I'd seen on that damned tape flooded back and my anger flared back up again. Wordlessly I crossed the kitchen to her, took one of her arms in a painful grip and all but dragged her from the kitchen to the living room.
"Bill," she protested as I all but threw her onto the couch in front of the TV "what the hell has got into you!"
"Don't say another word ..." I said in a low voice, then added "bitch!"
"Bill!" she gasped.
"Shut up or I swear ..." I spat at her, half raising a hand as though to strike her.
.... There is more of this story ...