Ralph plunged his cock into Debbie's pussy as she buried her face in a pillow conveniently placed on the large sofa. This muffled her moans of pleasure as Ralph demonstrated remarkable stamina and control. As he fucked her, he ran his hands over her ass and back, enjoying every inch of Debbie's voluptuous frame.
"Jesus! Your ass is perfect, Debbie," groaned Ralph. "Your skin is a smooth as glass." As he spoke, his hips kept a steady rhythm.
"Hmmmm," was Debbie's only response as she synchronized her ass gyrations to her lover's movements.
"In fact, your ass is so nice, I have to have some of it right now," he laughed. "You'll love this, Baby."
With that, Ralph pulled his sticky cock from Debbie's soaked cunt and placed his cock on Debbie's anus. His left hand had gathered a fistful of her hair and he began to push.
"No!" blurted Debbie. "I don't want you to do that, Ralph. I don't do anal. Please stop."
Ralph's grin got even bigger as he pushed harder, knowing from experience that an ass can only withstand so much pressure before it will yield to a determined effort.
"You do now, Babe," he laughed. "Relax and it won't hurt as much. You'll get so you like it."
"No!" yelled Debbie as she moved her ass to the side. "I told you not to do it. Now let me up, Ralph," she insisted.
Ralph twisted his hand in Debbie's hair and pulled her head back, stretching her neck uncomfortably. He took his cock in his other hand and placed it at her rosebud again.
"Hold still and relax, Babe!" barked Ralph as he pushed his cock head into her ass. "This will make you my woman from now on."
"It hurts, Ralph. Please stop!" pleaded Debbie. Then she broke into tears as he pushed further into her bowels.
The only sounds in the room were the grunts Ralph made with each push and Debbie's quiet sobs. Finally, Ralph pushed in as far as he could and held still as his ass cheeks flexed. It was obvious he was depositing his sperm deep in Debbie's ass. After a minute of remaining very still, he gradually withdrew his cock. As it came free, a slight popping sound was heard.
Debbie turned her head as far as her position would allow and glared.
"You miserable bastard!" she spat. "I told you not to fuck my ass and you did anyway. What is wrong with you?"
"I'm not your goddamn husband!" Ralph snapped back. "I don't have to worry about making you happy, or mad. That's why I like fucking married women. They can't go crying to hubby, so they just take it. Half the time they invite me back in a few days for another round. You bitches are so desperate for a strange cock you'll do anything."
"You miserable piece of shit!" snarled Debbie. "I don't need your cock, or your goddamn attitude. Get the fuck out, now!"
"I'll leave when it suits me, cunt," chuckled Ralph. "I might want you to suck my cock again so I can fuck that ass one more time."
Debbie climbed off the sofa and stood up. Contempt filled her eyes as she glared at her lover.
"That will never happen again! Now get the fuck out before Kevin gets home and finds you... Kevin!" gasped Debbie.
I was sitting in my easy chair watching and listening to the little comedy/tragedy unfolding before me. They had been so lost in lust that my arrival in our living room had gone unnoticed. Ralph and Debbie both remained frozen, waiting for some explosion from me. I refused to follow the script that had been written about the time Kane and Abel were making headlines. I simply sat there and watched them.
Eventually they became aware of their nakedness and started grabbing up their clothes. Kevin jumped into his jeans and practically ran to the door and was gone, still carrying his underwear, shirt, shoes, and socks.
Debbie sobbed and walked, head down, to the bathroom. I heard her crying over the sounds of the shower. I picked up the remote and turned on the game. I had planned on working all day Saturday, but I had forgotten about my alma mater's game with Notre Dame. I decided that half a day Saturday would have to be enough for my boss and returned home, only to find my married neighbor from down the street rutting with my wife of 18 years. My initial response was violence, toward Debbie, and Ralph. That little voice in my head warned that the consequences of that would be far-reaching and unpleasant for me. I took a deep breath and then took a seat. I was amazed that they had not noticed me sooner. Perhaps I should have turned the game on right away?
Debbie must have spent an hour in the bathroom before she finally emerged. Was she walking a little funny, or was that just my imagination? Or my hope? She went into the kitchen and started rattling pots and pans. Then I remembered that she had invited her parents over for dinner. If I were she, I would be quite concerned what her cuckold husband would tell her parents. About the end of the third quarter she finally came into the living room. I pretended to find the commercial for pizza extremely interesting.
She stood there for a minute hoping for some sort of recognition from me. Finally she walked closer to my chair and cleared her throat.
"I had invited my parents for dinner. Do you want me to call and ask them not to come?" Debbie asked in a quivering voice.
"No, not at all. Their fiftieth wedding anniversary is quite a milestone, wouldn't you say? How many couples stay married that long?" I hoped she might sense a little irony in that.
Debbie sobbed and returned to the kitchen. Just as the game ended, her parents rang the bell. I opened the door and welcomed them with big hugs and hearty congratulations. An hour later we were sitting at the table, having dinner. Our two daughters had come home from their weekend jobs at the local mall. We all toasted Deb's folks. I felt I was quite eloquent.
Debbie's mother asked Debbie if she felt okay at least twice because she was so subdued. The rest of us had a good time. I certainly had no intention of upsetting Debbie's parents, or my kids, by bringing up the afternoon delight I had witnessed.
As always happens, the day finally ended and bedtime swept down upon us. I brushed my teeth and slid into bed. Again Debbie spent an unusual amount of time in the bathroom. I pretended to be asleep when she pulled back the covers on her side and climbed in. I was on my side, facing the other way.
"Kevin, we have to talk," she whispered as she gently shook my arm.
I rolled over and looked at her for a minute. I waited for her to say something, but she didn't.
"So talk, Debbie. Otherwise, I'll go back to sleep."
"I want you to know I really love you, Kevin," she sobbed. "I made a huge mistake and I beg you to forgive me. Please!"
"What mistake was that, Debbie? I have to know what you are talking about before I can say I forgive you, don't I?" I reasoned.
She gasped at my question. "You know very well what I am referring to, Kevin."
I was not the one that was caught cheating. I was the offended party and I would be damned if I was going to put up with any fucking attitude.
"Go to sleep, Debbie, or else say what the fuck you want to say without a bunch of goddamn pronouns and euphemisms," I replied. "I am not going to try to guess what you are evading and grant you a blanket pardon. As far as I know, you could be talking about denting the car, gambling our savings away, spreading malicious gossip, or wearing white after fucking Labor Day."
She was shocked. As in many marriages, Debbie, as the wife, was usually the one to point out my, the husband's, mistakes. I was the one on the defensive most of the time. Did I fix this or paint that? What the hell was wrong with my relatives? Why couldn't I avoid embarrassing her when we were out? Why didn't I get a raise?
I had probably spent, on the average, an hour a week since we were married, trying to defend and explain my words and actions. It wasn't that Debbie didn't have some valid points. It just seemed impossible to make her happy. That had ceased being my goal. I got to the point where I just wanted her to be quiet and leave me the hell alone.
"That thing with Ralph this afternoon was a horrible mistake. I am so sorry and I am begging you to forgive me," Debbie pleaded.
"I am moving my lips, Debbie, but don't seem to be hearing me," I countered. "The word 'thing' is rather vague. Tell me what 'thing' you are talking about and why you feel it was a mistake."
I had to give her credit for not giving up. She looked at me and started in again.
"I deserve this, I know," admitted Debbie. "I had sex with Ralph this afternoon and you saw us. I am so very sorry about it and I want you to forgive me."
"I will try this one more time," I responded. "You are extremely vague. I am not sure if it is deliberate, or not. Are you sorry because I saw you having sex with a fucking asshole? Or are you sorry you were fucked by the asshole? Or both? Why are you sorry, Debbie?"
"I am sorry I did it, had sex with that miserable bastard. I am sorry you saw me getting fucked, too!" she sobbed.
"Now can you tell me why you are sorry? Would you be sorry if I had not come home until the usual time? Would we be having this conversation if I hadn't witnessed Ralph's prowess as a lover?" I demanded. "Would you keep on fucking him till you were caught or till he tired of you? You wanted to talk, Debbie, so please try telling me something. Tell me exactly what you want and what is bothering you. Tell me who else you have fucked, or will fuck. Tell me how many times you and Ralphie-Boy have gotten it on. That would be telling me something I don't know but would appreciate knowing."
.... There is more of this story ...