I find myself in a most interesting situation. My wife is screwing another man and I am screwing that man's wife. I'm not supposed to know about my wife and the other man, she doesn't know about me and the other man's wife, but the man and his wife know all about each other, but the man doesn't know that I know he knows about me and his wife. Confused? So was I for a while.
To understand the circumstances that led to the situation we have to go back ten years to the time my wife and I decided to move from a large city to a small town. While living in the city we formed the habit of going out every Friday night for dinner and for breakfast every Sunday morning. We decided that we wanted to maintain that same life style in the small town, but there was a problem. In the city we had literally dozens of restaurants to chose from, but in the small town, only six. It did not take us long to discover that of the six, only two were worth going to. Both were open seven days a week, but one was only open for breakfast and lunch while the other served all three meals. We got in the habit of going to one for the morning meal and to the other for dinner. As is common in small towns you get to know everyone, if not by name at least by sight and you find yourself saying hello and good morning to people you have never met, but see all the time.
One morning, about eight years after starting our breakfast routine, we were sitting in the restaurant when a man and woman we had never seen before came in and took the table opposite us. The man was nice looking, but nothing exceptional; the woman on the other hand was something else. A five foot one inch bleached blonde with a set of 40DD's, she had every male eye in the place on her. She had on enough makeup for six girls, and had on so much gaudy jewelry that if she'd fallen down it would have taken a crane to get her back up. I didn't realize I was staring until my wife kicked me under the table and said:
"You had better put on a seat belt before you fall out of that chair."
The woman exuded sex, in a slutty way, and it didn't matter how hard you tried to avoid looking at her your eyes always came back.
During the next year we saw them maybe three out of every five times we went into the restaurant and eventually reached the good morning nod stage. We never again saw her looking as trashy as she had the first time, but it was still hard to keep your eyes off those tits. My wife took to referring to the woman as my "girlfriend", you know, "Don't look now, but here comes your girlfriend" or maybe, "It's your lucky day sweetie, your girl friend just got here." My wife really milked it, once going as far as to ask me if I wanted to change seats with her so I could get a better view. I do have to be honest - I did enjoy looking at the woman and it didn't piss off my wife, so I did.
One Sunday morning as we sipped our coffee, having just ordered our meal, my wife sat up and waved someone over. I gave her a look and she said:
"The place is full and there isn't any other place available, they can sit with us."
I turned to see the man and woman heading our way, the 40DD's leading the way. My wife smiled at me and asked, "You want her sitting across from you or next to you?"
I snorted and said, "Either way I lose. Across from me she'll think I'm rude for staring, and next to me I won't be able to see them."
When they reached our table Candy said:
"We've seen you in here so often that we ought to know you and it doesn't look like you'll get seated anytime soon, so why don't you join us?"
They accepted and introduced themselves as Fran and Joe. Following the introductions we got down to exchanging information; Fran was in real estate and Joe was a mechanic for the local Ford dealer. Immediately a friendly rivalry developed between Joe and me, him being a Ford man and me being a dyed in the wool Chevy man. Candy and Fran also found some common ground and we engaged in small talk until our meals arrived. It turned out that they only lived four blocks from us and they loved to play cards. Following breakfast, as we all got up to leave, Candy invited them over for dinner and cards some night and Fran said she would call later in the week and set up a night to do it. On the way home I asked Candy why she had done that and she had laughed at me and said:
"Just another opportunity to embarrass you, my love."
We had them over on the next Friday and it turned out to be worse than I expected. We all liked double-decked pinochle and we were pretty much the same caliber of player so to make things interesting we swapped partners after every game. That meant that in one game out of every three Fran sat across from me. The problem was that she was wearing an extremely low cut blouse and her tits drove me to distraction and made it very hard for me to concentrate on my cards - and everyone at the table knew it. Every time I got paired with Fran we got beat. At the end of the evening we decided that we would like to do it again and the following Friday found us at their house.
Fran greeted us at the door and I knew immediately that I was in trouble; she was wearing a mini skirt and a tank top and she didn't have on a bra. The first game was Candy and I against the home team and Candy and I won. The second game was Joe and I against the girls and the guys won. The third game paired Fran and I, but before the game started Fran got up and left the room coming back a moment later wearing an overcoat buttoned up to the top:
"Now maybe I'll have a chance to be on the winning side."
Everyone broke out laughing, except me of course, I just turned beet red.
The card games and dinner became a weekly affair and each week it seemed as if Fran went out of her way to embarrass me, and she usually succeeded, much to the merriment of Joe and Candy. One night, about four months after we started our weekly dinners, I was in the kitchen with Fran helping with the dishes. She turned to me and said:
"Have you figured it out yet?"
"Figured out what?" I asked.
"That I enjoy teasing you with my tits. That it turns me on so much that I practically rape Joe as soon as you are gone."
I admitted that I'd not caught on and she turned to me and pulled her blouse up. She was bra-less and I saw her nipples for the first time - the things had to be an inch long. She laughed and pulled her blouse back down, "Let's see you concentrate on your cards now."
The following Monday I found out that Candy was fucking Joe. It was lunchtime at work and I joined two guys at a table in the cafeteria. They were talking about sexual prowess and Tom said:
"Take my brother-in-law now. He's got the sexiest looking wife in town, she's got world class tits, at least 40's, but is she enough for him? Nah! He's got two broads on the side and every day at lunchtime he grabs a van, he works at the Ford dealer, and he picks up one of his honeys and they spend the lunch hour in the back of the van. One's a blonde and the other is a great looking redhead with legs that go all the way up to her ears. Both of them are married, but the poor saps they are married to don't have a clue."
I sat there, frozen to my chair, and I've no idea why because it could have been anybody else, but I had a very bad feeling about it. Joe worked for the Ford dealer, Fran had world class tits, and Candy was a red head with very long legs. The rest of the day was not a very good one for me. When I got home that night I observed Candy, looking for any sign, anything that could confirm or deny what deep inside I prayed would not be true, but of course I saw nothing.
The next day I left work at lunchtime and drove over to where my wife worked and parked where I could see the front door and the parking lot. Her lunchtime came and went, but nothing happened. Must have been the blonde's day I thought. I did the same thing the next day and with the same results. I'd been there fifteen minutes on the third day and had just about convinced myself that Candy wasn't the redhead when a Ford van with dealer plates pulled into the parking lot. My heart sank when Candy came out and got in. I followed them to the zoo parking lot and they parked in the back of the lot away from all the rest of the cars. I parked where I could keep my eye on the van and no one got out. I thought I could see the van rocking, but it may have just been heat waves coming off the pavement. Forty-five minutes later I followed the van back and watched Candy get out and then lean back in and kiss the driver. I followed the van back to the dealership and was in position to see the driver when he got out - it was Joe.