I read it for perhaps the tenth time, "Dear Diary, this afternoon I stood in my bedroom closet finger fucking myself while watching Angela's big tits swaying back and forth over my husbands face."
It was by far the most interesting entry my diary had seen in quite a while. Why was a thirty-six year old woman in her closet playing with herself? That's the story.
My husband has a thing for big tits, the bigger the better, and he has been like that since the day I met him. He buys magazines that feature big-breasted babes and I can't tear him away from the TV set when Bay Watch is on. Given Matt's penchant for big boobs I have never figured out why he even dated me, let alone married me, since I am basically flat chested. Well, not really flat chested, although 34 B cups are really not all that big. The total package isn't all that bad; I still get a lot of wolf whistles when I'm out and about. I have a nice firm butt (hours spent on the Stairmaster) and I've been told my legs are great, but big tits I ain't got. I've learned to live with Matt's boob obsession, I'm even amused by it, and I never pass up an opportunity to take a dig at him when I catch him eyeing some babe showing a mile of cleavage. He always blushes and gets a guilty look on his face, but he never stops looking.
When Jack and Angela moved in next door I knew things were going to get interesting - Angela had at least 40 DD's. My first clue was when Matt ran over to help them unload their U-Haul truck (I couldn't even get him to take out the garbage). A couple of hours later he brought them over and introduced me to them and told me he had invited them over for dinner since all of their pots and pans were still in boxes. From that day on Matt became Jack's new best friend and he spent a remarkable amount of time over at Jack and Angela's house on one pretext or another. I had no idea if Jack and Angela had any idea of what was going on, but I certainly did. Did I care? No, not really. I was not an insecure person and I knew Matt was always going to come home to me, it's just that he had this thing about tits.
Summer arrived and the first bloom of my flowerbeds caused another change in my husband. For the first time in the five years since we had lived in the house I did not have to beg Matt to go out and "please cut the grass." Every Saturday and Sunday Matt would be out in the yard weeding the flowerbeds, cutting grass, trimming bushes and hedges and spraying fertilizers and insecticides. I'm sure that the fact that Angela sunbathed in a string bikini every day the sun shone had a lot to do with it, but who was I to complain - the yard hadn't looked that good in years.
Fall brought cooler weather that put an end to Angela's sunbathing, but it also brought football. I had become accustomed over the years to the fact that when football season arrived Matt would plant himself in front of the TV on weekends and I might as well consider him gone for the day. I learned early on not to make plans for the two of us to do anything that started before eight in the evening. This year was different only in that Jack was also a football nut and so Matt spent most of his weekend planted in front of Jack and Angela's big screen TV instead of ours. Not, of course, that I thought Angela had anything to do with his being over there.
Winter arrived and with it the first indication that something funny was going on. It was at a holiday get together at Jack and Angela's and I was on my way from the dining room to the kitchen when I saw Matt with his hand on Angela's ass and she wasn't in the least bit upset about it. In fact, she was smiling at him. This bothered me and so I kept an eye on the both of them for the rest of the night. About two hours into the party I saw Angela go into the kitchen and a minute or so later Matt followed her. I casually headed for the kitchen and when I walked in I caught them kissing. Matt saw me and broke the kiss, "Mistletoe" he said, and pointed to sprig in Angela's hair.
"I thought he'd never notice" Angela said, "Every other man here has."
I smiled, got a drink of water, and left the kitchen. I began to wonder if I was over-reacting to the situation. It could just be simple flirting between two people who knew and liked each other, but something about the situation nagged at me.
I have never had a suspicious nature, but in the coming months I began to watch Matt and while I never actually caught him at anything, I did see several things that led me to believe he and Angela had a thing going. My suspicions were confirmed on a day early in March. Matt had taken a few days off from work to do some things around the house and I came home to find spots on my bed sheets that I just knew had to be fluids from two people who had been making love. I knew they hadn't come from Matt and me because I had changed the sheets that morning after we had made love. I decided that I needed to catch them in the act which meant that I had to set up a situation that would make it easy for them to do it in our house and not Angela's.
The plan I came up with was simplicity itself. On Friday night I asked Angela if she would come over in the morning and help me lay out a quilt pattern. Then I arranged for my sister Barb to call me on Saturday morning about a minor family problem needing my assistance. Telling Matt to call Angela and tell her not to bother coming over, I faked leaving the house and got myself into our bedroom closet. I was gambling that Matt would either not make the call and just let Angela come on over, or call her and tell her the coast was clear. And that's just what happened. Ten minutes after I took my place in the closet I could hear the two of them laughing and running up the stairs. Angela burst into the room with Matt right behind her. He caught her, tossed her onto the bed, and then jumped on her. They rolled around laughing and acting like a couple of teenagers and then Angela pulled away from Matt and started taking off her clothes, "Hurry lover," she said, "I want your cock in me."