I sort of knew that my wife was screwing around on me, but I couldn't prove it. When Jackie and I had gotten married, she had told me that she didn't have a lot of sexual experience. Two boyfriends in college, and one when she started working; that was it. Then we had met, fallen in love, gotten married, and started the rest of our lives together.

Jackie has always been somewhat reserved, somewhat conservative in her lovemaking. The most way-out thing she had ever done was go down on me, and she had only done that after having gotten stinking drunk at my office Christmas party. She'd told me that it was my Christmas present, and had proceeded to give me sloppy, ineffectual, amateurish head that showcased her inexperience. The next morning, when I had brought it up, Jackie had broken down and cried, making me promise never to bring it up again.

In the six months since Christmas, however, something has been going on. Jackie has had a certain... coolness towards me that I couldn't explain or understand. Jackie is a graphic artist, and she works at home. She has cilents visit her all the time, and I'd never worried about her straying at all. Jackie is, or at least, was, very straightfoward and direct. I thought that I would have known if there was a problem, but her pulling away from me was so gradual and subtle that I didn't notice it at first.

But then I realized that something was going on. Whenever I touched her, Jackie stiffened. She sounded different when she talked to me; there was less passion in her voice, more friendliness. It was as though we were settling into the middle years of our marriage after only eighteen months. That's when I knew, or at least suspected, that someone else was giving her what she needed between the sheets, what she had started to deny me.

Unlike my wife, I had a fair amount of sexual experience before getting married, so I wondered what, if she was having an affair, she was looking for in her lover. What was he doing for her that I couldn't?

I decided to find out. I told my wife that I had to leave on a week-long business trip. Instead, I booked myself into a local motel, and then started watching my house from a rental car parked about five hundred feet away.

The first day, nothing happened. I stayed in that car for almost eighteen hours, until I saw the bedroom light go off. No one had come in or out of my house, and I was beginning to think I was crazy. The next morning, however, I discovered that I had been right all along.

About nine in the morning, a sporty little roadster pulled into my driveway, and a man got out. He was young, tall, handsome, and...well, sexy. As far as me looking at other men goes, I'd say he was a damn fine looking dude. So that was it, I thought. I wasn't handsome enough for Jackie anymore.

A little cloud of depression settled over me, and I decided to invesitage further. After all, this could be a client. There could be nothing sexual going on at all, I told myself.

Creeping around the back of the house, I looked in the window to Jackie's studio. There was no one there. The back door was open, and I entered the kitchen. Standing in the front hall, I cocked one ear, and was slightly dismayed to hear the sound of lovemaking coming from the upstairs bedroom. Judging by the sound, it was coming from the guest room, not our bedroom. At least Jackie had the class not to sleep with this guy in our bed.

Slowly, quietly, I ascended the stairs. I wanted to catch her in the act, so she would have nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. I rounded the landing and made my way down the hall. The angle into the guest room was just right. I could see everything in the mirror over the dresser.

Jackie was standing next to the bed; her lover was behind her, running his hands all over her breasts under her shirt. Jackie's head was leaning back, her neck arched, as she kissed his throat and face. Jackie was wearing a t-shirt and cutoff shorts, and the man wasted no time in disrobing her. Naked, my wife dropped to her knees, fished the man's penis out of his pants, and then eagerly went down on him, sucking and licking his rod and balls. I was astounded, watching my prim and proper wife suck and lick this dude's jewls like she loved it. Her face was a blur as she took his entire length into her face again and again, her hands on his ass, pulling him into her for lunge after lunge.

He came after ten minutes of what looked like superb head, painting her throat with his cum. My wife stood, and they kissed, and then she got on the bed, spread her legs, and started masturbating for her lover. I was immediately annoyed and jealous; I had asked Jackie a thousand times to do this for me, and she had always refused. Somehow, this man had managed to convince her to do the things I wanted her to. It made me feel like less of a man.

Jackie brought herself to a wet, toe-curling orgasm in a matter of minutes. Her lover had undressed completely while watching her, and when she was done he climbed between her thighs and sank himself inside her. I watched in detached amazement as this man rode my wife for over an hour, in a variety of positions, all over the guest bedroom. They ended up screwing doggy style, another thing Jacke was reluctant to do for me. Jackie's face was a twisted mask of pleasure and concentration as her lover moved in and out of her. I found myself aroused (hell, I'd been hard almost the entire time,) and I had to fight the urge to whip it out and stroke myself off right there.

Another thing that was making my annoyance mount was the fact that Jackie had been very, very vocal during the entire encounter, begging her lover loudly to do all sorts of nasty things to her that I'd love to do if only she would ask me! The fact that my wife was cheating on me was not nearly as annoying as the question WHY? It wasn't like she *had*to go looking for this stuff; all she had to do was ask, and I'd do it to for her as long as she could stand it!

That question was answered in the next ten minutes. Her lover finished, jerking himself out of her and drizzling his load over her body. My wife giggled under the spray, rubbing him into her body. They kissed long and lovingly, and then her lover stood to get dressed, leaving my wife to watch him from the bed, idily fingering herself. There was a smile of satisfaction and contentment on her face, something that I felt I could put there, given half a chance.

Then it happened. The man reached into his back pocket, and before my amazed and confused eyes, withdrew three one-hundred dollar bills and placed them on the bedside table. He stooped to kiss Jackie one more time, saying softly, "Same time next week?"

"Sure thing," Jackie said, kissing him hungrily. Her lover... customer...turned to leave, and I ducked into the bathroom, shutting the door as softly as possible. I heard him go downstairs and out the front door, and I followed him as quietly as possible.

I returned to my rental car and sat staring at the house for close to an hour. So many thoughts were whirling around inside my head; had my wife been a hooker before I married her? Was I her meal ticket? Her safety net for when she got old and couldn't get any more customers? What the fuck was going on here?

I needed more information, so I continued to watch the house for the rest of the week. I counted over fifteen different men entering the house, and each time I checked Jackie's studio; only one was a customer, and it was apparant that Jackie was trying to seduce him. He might have been married, gay, or both, but he wasn't having any of it. Jackie pouted, and he left.