Stacy McCormack and I have been married for the past eighteen years; I'm Julian McCormack. We'd been boyfriend-girlfriend, or fiancés for an aggregate of six years before that, if you count high school, and I do. And, yes, that makes our common age thirty-eight if you're figuring.

Stacy back then, when we were freshmen, was a dolly as far as I'm concerned. Five-nine, slender, silky brunette hair, and an hourglass figure even at her then age of fourteen. She has filled out a little since those early days, but she's done so in ways that have enhanced her looks rather than the other way 'round. Then there is me:, five-five; also slender back then, a bit of a paunch now but only a bit; sandy hair, somewhat thinning now; and all of my other moving parts in relatively good order.

Stacy's an interior decorator for Merlyn Home Furnishings. Me, I'm an electrician for Carter Construction, a trade I learned on the job and expanded my knowledge of in junior college. Financially we do okay. Her forty-K and my eighty has been enough. So, no, money hasn't been a problem for us. In fact our childless marriage has been pretty much problem free until this minute.

He was banging her good and proper. And, he was doing it on my bed; well, mine and Stacy's.

"Stacy?" I said. My tone, I was sure, sounded as disbelieving as had to be the look in my eyes. "Are we divorcing?" Their gaze snapped around and brought me into focus. She looked at me, wrinkled her brow, and sighed.

"Go downstairs and wait, Julian. I'll be down shortly," she said. The stranger on top of her was smirking—and not pulling out of her. If I'd thought I had a chance against him, I would have wiped it off, the smirk that is; but I didn't have a chance (He was well over six feet and at least two hundred pounds), so any revenge I might seek to secure in any future world would have to wait for much improved circumstances. But wait downstairs as she'd ordered me? Not hardly.

I might be just a union shop electrician, but I am an avid reader. Sun Tzu's Art of War was actually in my tool box: strike first, fast, and leave 'em baffled and bewildered. I left and headed for Carmen Mendoza's shop to get the ball rolling. We'd see just how her arrogance would play when she was served: Carmen was a lawyer.

Carmen was an old high school flame who I'd dated during a temporary break up between me and Stacy; that had been in our senior year at Middleton Prep. Carmen'd gone to state, gotten her JD, and passed the state bar. Had her own shop now. She handled mostly lightweight criminal law; but, I knew she'd take care of me. Besides, I figured I might need her investigative skills which I knew to be top drawer.

"Quit that goddamn smirking, Gerald Crabtree, and get dressed. I've got to go downstairs and sooth some ruffled feathers.

"He'll be in the kitchen, so you go out the front door and try to be quiet doing it. I don't want him to see you," said Stacy.

"So what if he sees me? He's already seen me, kinda totally, if you know what I mean," said Gerald.

"Yes, and that was unfortunate. I am not going to be rubbing his nose in it. Just do as I ask, okay?" she said.

"Okay, okay. No problem," he said.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Stacy immediately noticed that the front door was wide open.

"Gerald, wait here for a second will you?" she said. He nodded; he'd noticed the open door too. She disappeared into the kitchen. She came out seconds later.

"He's not here. He's left. Gone somewhere," she said. "This is not good. I knew he'd be in a snit. But..."

'Yeah, he probably needs a drink. I would," he laughed. "He'll be back. You might wanna give him some space for a couple of days. I mean before you lay whatever on him."

"Yeah, maybe," she said. Her look spelled worried.

I wondered if my disappearing would bother her. Realistically, I figured it would. I don't know what she would have been saying to me if I'd stayed around to hear her out, but I'm sure I wouldn't have liked it, of that I was dead-mortal-lead-pipe-cinch certain.

I signed for the motel room and was just picking up my little tote bag, when my cell went off. It was her; well, it figured to be. I answered it.

"Julian, where the hell are you?" she said.

"Why in hell do you care? But to answer your question, away from you," I said.

"You need to come home. We need to talk," she said.

"Why? Somebody else has already taken my place in your bed. Whaddya need me for?" I said. Oh, and a little young for your wasn't he? I mean you robbin' the cradle as well and screwing me over?"

"Nobody's taken anybody's place. And, I'm not screwing you over either. You need to come home so we—I—can straighten this out. Okay? Please." She said.

"I note that your tone is a whole lot different than a little while ago when you arrogantly told me to go downstairs and wait till you and your fuck buddy were done cuckolding me," I said. "And, for the record that does equate with you screwing me over."

"Well—I—I mean I don't know what..." she started. She gathered herself. "I didn't mean to sound—arrogant—bad," she said. "I was just surprised to see you. You weren't..."

"Supposed to catch you and the asshole you were fucking. Yeah, I figured that much out myself. You'll need to be talking to my lawyer, not to me directly from here on out. Mine'll be in touch soon. Bye," I said. I hung up.

"He's contacting a lawyer," she said, as she sat heavily down in the chair.

"At least he answered the phone," said Gerald. "You want me to stick around? I mean in case..."

"Huh? No. If he were to suddenly decide to come back and find us together. No, no, that would not be good," she said.

"No, I guess not," he said. "Stace, if it comes down to that, I mean divorce, I could maybe help you, but I'm not yet licensed..."

"Yes, yes, I know," she said. "But, I don't want a divorce. Eighteen years of marriage—happy marriage actually—precludes that. Damn it why did he have to walk in on us like that?"

"Well, he did. You thought he wouldn't be back until tomorrow. His parents, right?" he said.

"Yes, mom and dad McCormack needed him for something. They're moving, they needed him for the whole weekend, or so he said. I guess their plans changed."

"You caught some guy screwing her? Really?" said Carmen Mendoza.

"Yes, and she had the brass cajones to tell me to wait downstairs till she was done," I said.

"Brass? I'd say more like Titanium," said Carmen.

"Yeah, well, whatever," I said. "Anyway, how soon can you serve her?"

"Next Friday work for you?" she said.

"Yes," I said. "Can I sue the asshole too?"

"Probably not a good idea. Alienation of affection is a toughie and most likely not worth the time and effort, let alone the cost. But, if you want, I can try," she said.

"Okay, I'll let you know before the end of the week on that one. Would that be okay?" I said.

"That will be fine, so long as you do not want them served at the same time," said Carmen.

We talked a little longer, and made a date for dinner the following night. Well, she was an old flame of sorts.

I wasn't ready for it, but I should have at least expected something of the sort. Well, I didn't expect it, so she nailed me.

"Son, you have a visitor," said my mom, Gladys McCormack. It took me about four nano-seconds to deduce who it had to be. I was trapped. My mother would never allow me to shine the woman on regardless of her crimes against me. It's not the way either she or I were raised. I sighed.

"Okay, mom. Send her in." I said, unenthusiastically. She nodded and by that I mean she nodded gravely. Eleven seconds later the woman was standing there, and mom disappeared.

"Hello, Julian. I have tried everything to get you to talk to me. This was my last resort. Please, hear me out. Please," she said.

"What is there to say, Stacy. You've replaced me. I saw it. I believe it. That ends it," I said.

"Wrong—wrong—and wrong!" she said, and that with emphasis.

"Hmm," was my brilliant retort.

"Julian!" she said, in a begging tone.

"Get to it, Stacy. I'm here. I'm trapped. You've got me. Lay it on me," I said. "You know: the why, the who, the how long for starters. She took a deep breath.

She nodded. "Okay, Julian. But first I want to apologize for treating shabbily. I didn't mean to, but looking at it now, I guess I did," she said.

"Yes, you did mean to. It's clear to me you hold me in contempt, and figure you can do anything you want to me and get away with it. That your reasoning is flawed, however, goes without saying now.

"And yeah, you did treat me shabbily," I said. She sent me a 'please' have mercy on me look. "Oh, and since this is likely the last time we'll be talking without lawyers, the truth and nothing but, okay? Please." She nodded.

"Okay, okay then. The why: I need a larger cock than you've got. You're so small, and well, I just needed something bigger; you know, on the side."

"Well, I did say I wanted the truth didn't I," I said, wondering if I'd ever be able to get over my current feelings of humiliation.

"The who? His name is Gerald. He's a law student, last semester actually. And, Julian before you start calling him names. He's a nice guy," she said.

"Yeah, I'm sure. And, just so you'll know, for him, asshole is about as nice as it's going to get. And nice guy? Yeah right, nice enough to steal my wife away from me," I said, about as sarcastically as I could. She gave me a look.

"He's not trying to steal me away from you. But, how long? I wish you hadn't asked that," she said.

"But, I did," I said.

"A little over a year," she said. I looked her in the eyes. I was stunned, almost speechless.

"A year," I squeaked, finally.

"And, it hasn't affected us—you and me—in the least," she said.

"You mean until now," I said. "Because it sure as hell has affected me now!"

"Julian, think about this logically. Do not let this—thing—ruin us. We are a team you and I. A team always plays better when they help each other out; you know that. That's what I'm asking for here, Jules. Let me help you out here. Help you to understand where I'm coming from," she said.

"What? I'm not sure whether you got that out of Yogi Berra's almanac, or some drugged induced nightmare. But whatever and from wheresoever, it doesn't even begin to make any sense," I said. "How in the hell do you expect to make me happy that you are fucking around on me! And, as for me understanding where you're coming from, truth is I already do."

"Huh? What?" she said.

"Yes, you want to fuck him and you want me to be okay with it. That's the bottom line, or did I miss something in the translation?" I said.

"Well..."

"Yes, or no?" I said.

"Neither," she said. "I don't expect you to be okay with it. Of course I don't, not in absolute terms. But, I would hope that you might be willing to give me the gift of your understanding, and to allow, maybe grudgingly allow, me to have this little bit on the side." I started laughing. Well, it was funny. She was freakin' serious. She was.

"Jules?" she said. "Stop that laughing. Stop it right now."

"Sorry, but you're funny," I said.

"Look until—well—until now, have we been good?" she said. I frowned.

"Yeah, I guess, until now. But, now is not before if you get my drift," I said.

"Look, Jules, could you see your way clear to do something for me," she said. She was almost pleading.

"Yeah, and what would that be," I said, "suck your lover's cock for him; you know, get him ready to screw you?" I was definitely not laughing now.

"No. Go to bed with me, you screw me, and then let me tell you about an idea I have. Whaddya say?" she said. She caught me up with that one. I was horny, boy was I. Playing back in my mind the scene, him screwing her, was hugely erotic in a perverse sort of way. What the hell, I already had the divorce in the works. It might be a while before I'd be getting any, so why the hell not.

"Okay to the first part. You've caught me at in a weak moment, well, a horny moment," I said. She smiled.

"I want my handsome little man to be weak when it comes to me." She grabbed me by my ear and led me to and up the stairs of my parent's house.

She stripped quickly and I was only seconds behind her. Her bald mound set fire to my libido. I knelt and she came to me, but, she turned around.

"My butt, worship it," she said. I flushed. I leaned in and kissed her butt cheeks. "Spread my cheeks little man and lick my anus. Do it now." I complied. I'd never done it before. I figured he must have done her that way, but who knew. She leaned forward grabbing hold of the chair's seat and spread her legs wide.

"You good and hard yet, my dear little fellow?" she said. I choked out a yes.

"Good. You've lubed me up nice. Now fuck my butt," she said. She'd surprised me; she'd never let me have her butt before; labeled me a pervert for even asking the one time I had. But, this was no time for questions. She was offering; I was taking. I stood, adjusted myself, and pressed into her. She had to reach back and guide me, but I gained a lodgment.

"Now, screw me nice and slow. I want it to last a bit Okay?" she said.

"Yes, yes," I said.

It took a while but I had her three times: once in the ass, twice in her pussy. Jesus she was hot. I lay beside her in the afterglow suckling on her nipples. She said that it tickled, my suckling, but made no move to stop me.

Several things happened as a result of her allowing me the mercy fuck, and that was exactly what it was. One, I got her ass, that had never happened before. Two, she enslaved me: I had to have her pussy and ass and tits. I had to. And, lastly, I agreed to allow her to talk to me, to try and convince me to allow the status quo, and to not go for a divorce.

"So, it was good for you then?" she said.

"As mercy fucks go it was real good," I said.

She sighed. "Okay, and so what if it was a mercy fuck. I got off which did surprise me. You usually can't do that for me, but tonight you did," she said. "Anyway, you can have mercy anytime you say. Can't that be enough?"

"I don't know, Stace. I want you for me and me alone," I said.

"And, you have me for you alone. But, that doesn't mean there won't be times when I want the big dick to thrill me for the moment—a moment uncomplicated by emotional attachment or any sort of permanency.

"Jules, I want you to come home to me. I want you to forget about doing anything rash. I need you, Jules, for all of the things you do for me—including fucking me, and that regularly. Please, Jules, come home and be mine," she said. I was sorely tempted. And, as it turned out, so sorely tempted that I gave in. I would call Carmen and put the divorce on hold.

"Been a few days, missed you. So, how did it go last Wednesday?" said Gerald.

"Good—maybe. He's staying at the house again, and he's fucking me every night," said Stacy. "Your idea to let him have my butt was key. At least I think it was. He sure likes it for damn sure. I'm kinda tender back there at the moment." He smiled.

"I thought that that would get his juices roiling," he said. She snickered.

"Yeah, well they're roiling. I'm a living testament to that more than defensible fact."

"Is he doing any better at getting it done?" he said.

"Sort of. His first night back he made me cum--twice. It had been so long since he had; well, I was surprised," she said.

"And since?" he said.

"Oddly, no; close, but no. I was sure he'd figured it out, but again no, he hasn't. But, I'm hopeful," she said.

"And me? Where do I stand," he said.

"He hasn't brought you up, and neither have I. He knows I'll still be seeing you and that you'll still be doing me, but he's kind of adopted an out of sight out of mind stance at least for now," she said.

"Whew, that was a close one," he said. "I was sure I was getting my walking papers."

"No, no you're not, but..."

"Yeah, I know, if he ever makes an issue of it, and makes you choose..." he said.

"I'm sorry, Gerald, but yes; I'd have to go along with him. He and I, well, we have too much invested in each other after all of these years, and that even though we don't have any children. But, if everything breaks right, well, then we'll be okay."

"So you say you've decided to give her another chance," said Carmen.

"Well, kinda. I've moved back into our bed. The sex is the best ever, but how it will play out over the long haul, well, I'm not sure," I said.

"Hmm, I gotta say, Julian, that I'm surprised. Has she stopped messin' with the other guy, this Gerald," she said.

"Not sure, she doesn't bring him up, and neither do I. Kinda the elephant in the room if you get my drift. But, in truth, I think she is still seeing him, just not rubbing my nose in it," I said.

"Julian, I have to say, this can't end well. Women that have tasted strange and liked it rarely go back. And, I mean damn near one hundred percent of the time. They have to have it. Even if they actually do love their husbands, they still have the need—not just the want but the need—to play. What I'm saying is, that if you are not good with it or capable of getting good with it, her playing, that you will eventually be filing those divorce papers."

I looked at her. "Carmen, let me ask you, do men ever get used to it, allow it, become okay with their wives playing?" I said. She gave me a sad look.

"Some do, but not too many. And, among those that do, most take up playing on the side themselves. Kind of what's good for the goose and all," she said. "I don't see you as being one of those. But, you tell me. Could you do it?"

"You know, I just don't know," I said. "I've been asking myself that question ever since I went back. Not getting an answer either not yet." She nodded.

We were getting along, and I was all but certain that she'd cancelled on good 'ole Gerald at least twice because of spur of the moment plans I'd come up with. She hadn't complained, but there'd been a look. The look was kind of a "Well, if you insist" look.

I was doing my damnedest to measure up, measuring up being the operative term.

It'd been three months, maybe a little more, since our almost breakup. I guess she figured that I wasn't too worried about Gerald anymore and that she might could lay it on me to lighten up about him—them.

"Honey, can we talk? Would that be all right?" she said. My eyes narrowed.

"I'd rather not if it's what I think it is you want to talk about," I said.

"Please," she begged.

"Why do we have to talk about it? We've been doing okay, haven't we?" I asked.

"Yes, we have. Better than okay, actually. And that's not going to change if I can help it," she said.

"Okay, so again, why do we have to talk?" I said. She began to fidget. She clearly wanted to say whatever it was she wanted to say, but was weighing the wisdom of such a move. I wasn't making it easy for her.

"Honey..." she started and stopped.

"Yes," I said.

"You know—I mean you're aware that I've been..." she ran out of words again. I stared, waiting.

"Fucking him?" I said. She looked away.

"I didn't know. I was hoping not, but well, I figured you probably were," I said. I knew my expression was stony. "I guess you might say that I appreciated not knowing."

"Honey, I—we've, he and I—have cut way back. Honey, he fills a need that I have, and, as I promised you; I have not nor will I ever let it disrupt our time together, yours and mine."

"Our time together?" I smiled, I had a thought. "Our time together has disrupted your time with him sometimes hasn't it," I said. Okay, I was fishing.

"A few times. I don't begrudge those, not even," she said, apparently trying to reassure me that we were good in spite of those, what, inconveniences. I nodded.

"So why the need to discuss any of this. I liked it better with me not knowing for sure. Now I do, and it's going to be uncomfortable for me now knowing what you really want and that our time together is just a matter of you showing me mercy, not you actually wanting me," I said.

"Oh my God!" she said. "No! You must not think like that. It isn't so. I do want you. I do need you. I couldn't live without you. Really!"

"You still haven't answered me?" I said.

"Huh? What?" she said. She'd clearly lost her train of thought.

"Why the sudden need to rub my nose in it. I was happy in my ignorance. So why?" I said.

"Honey, I wasn't trying to rub your nose in it. Truly. I just want to clear the air, and be up front with you. Ever since that one time; well, I've been nervous that you might rethink things and do something, well, rash," she said. I could hear a "but" or an "and to" in there somewhere, but she seemed to be skittish about laying it on me. I decided to take a flyer and press the issue.

"Do I hear a 'but' in there somewhere?" I said.

"Well, maybe a small one," she said. My eyes narrowed to mere slits. She swallowed hard.

"Okay?" I said.

"Well, Gerald is graduating with his law degree at the end of the month. And, since we kinda knew that you knew that we were still doing it—on a rare occasion..."

"And?" I said, as she hesitated yet again.

"Well, Gerald asked me if it would be a good idea to ask you for a big favor, but not really all that big of one actually," she said.

"A favor. A favor for my good buddy Gerald?" I said.

"Please, honey, I'm just trying to be up front with you. Get your permission for, you know, the favor, " she said. I was becoming exasperated.

"What favor, Stacy! Spell it out!" I said.

"Well, like I said, he's graduating from the university. He wanted me to ask you if it would be all right if I went away with him for a few days after the ceremony. It's a long weekend, Memorial Day weekend actually. We'd be leaving that Friday evening and returning the following Tuesday morning," she said. I sagged back in my chair. She had balls, so did he, an I'm not referring to the anatomical kind. I smiled; I had to smile.

"Four days. You want to leave me here alone for four days," I said. She did the smart thing and shut up. But, I had an idea.

"Okay, I guess I can live with that, but you owe me, and don't plan on me being okay with it ever again. You good with that?" I said. Her mouth dropped open.

"You mean you really are okay with me going," she said.

"Being okay with it is an overstatement. But, I'm willing to allow it, this one time," I said.

The fact that she'd come to me and asked me showed me that she was more than skittish about the possibility of losing me. As much as she wanted her king sized cock, she evidently wanted me more. Well, that was the hope.

"My main problem, since I'd been looking the other way about her fucking him anyway for months, wasn't her weekend of fun away from me. Oh no, it was the possibility that my rival wanted more from her than her body per se. It might be that he was falling for her. The question then became was she falling for him? After her junket with him I figured to know. As much as I wanted her and loved her both true facts; it could be the beginning of the end of us.

That night the sex between us was outrageous. She said that since she'd be gone the best part of four days that I had to do her four times. Silly, of course, just an excuse to make me cry uncle, but I was more than up for it. A piece of ass like Stacy was one in a true million; and that was both a good thing and a terrifying thing. And, if I was privy to that great truth, so likely was her future Clarence Darrow. But, no matter what, if she came back to me and kept her word; well, then I would begin the process of weaning her away from his dicksmanship, and that with a high probability of success. If not, well, I would have eventually lost her anyway. I figured this little experiment, gamble though it most certainly was, was worth it: I wouldn't be wasting my time hoping for a positive outcome that would never come.

"He went for it?" said Gerald. "I can't believe it."

"Yes, and that without much of a fight. That kinda bothers me. I mean why didn't he argue with me. I figured I could convince him, but he gave up awfully easy. I mean he is kind of a pussy when it comes to me, but him giving in so easy..." she paused in mid-thought.

"Maybe he's just a realist who knew you'd be going whether he liked it or not," said Gerald.

"Maybe, but, I'm suspecting it's something a little less obvious. I just don't know what," she said.

"Well, whatever it is, you do have the go ahead, that is we have the go ahead. And we are going to make the fucking most of it," he said. She smiled her agreement.

"You look very good tonight," I said looking across the table at my dinner partner.

"Well, thank you for that, sir. A girl can never hear that often enough," said Carmen.

"Another glass of wine?" I said. Rubios always had first rate wine. She smiled and pushed her near empty goblet toward me for a refill from the bottle I'd ordered for our table.

"You know, Jules, I still can't believe you okayed her spending these four days with him. Jules, she's flat cheating on you. Yes, I think she does want you enough to stay married to you because you're safe would be my guess," said Carmen.

"Because I'm safe?" I said.

"Yes, she's an intelligent woman. She has to realize that not only is she a cheater, but so is mister studley. Add to that, that apart from his no doubt considerable dick, he is very much younger than she is. She must realize that her time with him is finite: he will eventually dump her for younger meat.

"Jules, so long as you are willing to put up with her playing, you will indeed be able to keep her. Still, there is the remote possibility that she might leave you for someone else with more money, but at her age she isn't likely to be attracting many with enough to warrant her leaving you. So, yes, you get to keep her cheating ass. Yippee-eye-o-kai-yay!" she said. I laughed.

"Bruce Willis would love you." I said. "You almost sound like you're jealous of her."

"You're a helluva guy, Jules. But, mostly, I just don't cotton to seeing you being beat up like this. You deserve better. But, then again, you're so damn pussywhipped that maybe not," she said. Now, she was laughing.

We talked, we drank, we laughed: I was beginning to like the idea that Stacy would be gone for the next few days. Helluva thing.

I walked her to her door. She turned, kissed me, and gave me a look. I knew the look.

She stepped inside her door and held it open, actually leaning back against it. I shrugged. I entered. She closed the door.

She gave me another look. I followed her into the kitchen. She poured two glasses of wine. We sipped them silently for a long two minutes.

"So," I said, "do I get to fuck my lawyer?"

"That's the plan. Your dick long enough to get the job done?" she said.

"My errant wife assures me that I do get her off occasionally, so I guess I can give you a tentative affirmative in that regard," I said. She smirked.

"Okay, little man, let us adjourn to the bedroom."

We were naked in record time. Her bald mound had me on my knees and worshipping her. I kissed it, I licked it, I pulled my face tight into it, and then I yanked her down on the floor beside me.

"There's a bed two feet away," she said. I looked.

"Oh, yeah, I almost forgot," I said. She pulled me up and onto it giggling the whole time.

We played a little with our hands. She splayed her legs wide and I mounted her. I slid in with only a little difficulty. I began screwing her slowly, then faster, then crazy fast. She pulled her knees back as far as she could, hoping, I suppose, that I would reach even deeper inside of her; I did my damnedest. She jerked and squirmed: she'd made it. I was as grateful for that as I was for any I'd ever been able to do. I just couldn't disappoint this woman. I just couldn't.

At that moment a hundred miles away there was a similar tableau in progress.

"What do you think he's doing right now?" she said to her man of the moment.

"Probably jerking off to a picture of you," said Gerald, laughing. She smiled up at him as he played with her breasts.

"You are so bad," she said, laughing. "You are so bad!" She closed her eyes and became pensive. Her thoughts were of her man, her good man, miles away probably crying in his beer. She'd have to be making it up to him when she got back; she was going to make damn sure he was a happy camper.

She felt his huge cock pushing inside of her. Her eyes shot open at the sudden interruption of her thoughts. "God you're big," she said.

"I've been told that," he said. He took her hard and fast. It was only the first of the evening she knew; it was all right if he left her hanging the first time.

Monday night was a marathon session for me and Carmen. She drained me. I couldn't be sure, but I was beginning to think that she wanted me to be unable to perform adequately for Stacy when she returned. I smiled at the thought. If nothing else Carmen had been the catalyst in the rebuilding of my self-esteem. Stacy had pretty much stomped it down; Carmen was at pains to build it up. A woman, women, had that power, the power to destroy and the power to rebuild. Men, all of us, were slaves to that very large reality; hell, it was nature.