Sara had long suspected her husband of cheating on her during his business trips. He never objected to Saturday stayovers, and always seemed to be traveling with a woman. She was not the confrontational type, but she had a passive-agressive nature and a vengeful streak. He didn't get the message when she was cold or refused sex, which only made her more sure - surely he couldn't resist me after a week away!

Jim was in fact an unusually faithful man, and had been confused at his wife's behavior of late, but he followed ancient wisdom. If you don't know what's bothering her, and she's acting like a bitch, buy her something nice and apologize for not paying her more attention. At least that would help his chances of getting laid - it had been two months now!

When Sara got the flowers from her absentee man, she figured he now knew of her suspicions and hoped to win her forgiveness, but he got the flowers all wrong, and there was no note other than "Sorry for not being there for you, I'll be home soon." She twisted it all in her head until she was livid. Then she called an old high school girlfriend and went out to a bar to dance or hook up, or come what may.

Jim had thought it all through. He sent the flowers, not wanting to put all that he had to say in a little note, and had gotten out of the last part of his trip, so he was arriving home Wednesday night for a long weekend where he and Sara could work things out and make things hot between them again. He had brought chocolates, and a wine, and he came to the house at 7:45 pm, surprised to see a pickup truck in his driveway. Without really suspecting anything, he decided to park up the street a ways and see what was up. He peered in the living room window to see a few empty beers, the remains of a simple dinner, and a couple pairs of jeans!

Sara kept telling herself this was no worse than what Jim was no doubt doing, and though her conscience kept telling her she had no proof, she had made up her mind, and as man learn, a woman's mind, made up, cannot be changed but by an act of God. She had kissed the rugged guy from the country bar several times tonight but this was the first time she threw herself into it, and while he pawed at her ample breasts, and she scratched at his slightly hairy back, they managed to pull off one another's tight jeans without losing step. He backer her into her room, where he literally ripped her blouse open, popping buttons all over the room, and immediately flipped her cups over to expose her pert nipples. He began devouring them, bringing a low keening moan from her lips, as she came closer to the release she now ached for, and she held his head to her urgently. He slid his fingers under the narrow band of her bikini style panties, and his calloused fingers parted her dripping wet slit.

Jim's heart beat madly, and his mouth hung open, not only at how willingly - nay, lustily - his wife made love to this stranger, but at how different he was from Jim. Did she hate him? Was their whole marriage a sham? Why would she do this? He wanted to break the window, rescue her, but it was obvious as the hairy cowboy shed his shirt and went down on her, ripping the expensive satin panties off - panties Jim had picked out with her only a year past - she wanted no rescuing. In no time at all, she was arching her back and rolling her eyes in a way that Jim knew well but had seen far too little of lately. He wanted to leave, to get a hotel room and figure out where to go next, but he was riveted. He started thinking of the guy as "Clint", and was shocked as his squeamish wife took Clint's thick manhood in her mouth. Minutes seemed like hours and finally, he was actually relieved to see his wife trying to swallow Clint's plentiful come. He sprayed her face, and she laughed! Sara had never let Jim come in her mouth, and here she was, acting the total slut. They lay there, spent, kissing occasionally, and when Sara made to send him home, Clint got pushy. He was forceful, TOO forceful, and Jim almost came in to actually rescue her when she slapped him, but he just shrugged, and got his things. Clint left in short order, and Jim watched his wife as she fell asleep in front of the TV, an unfulfilled, defeated look on her face. He didn't know what to do, how to broach the subject, so he went to work, and called Sara to see if she'd confess.

"Hi love, how are you?"

"Ummm, fine I guess." came her cold reply.

"So... did you get them?"

"The flowers were pretty Jim." Long silence. "You know that's not what I want, Jim."

"So what DO you want, Sara?" he almost spit, his anger finally surfacing.

"Oh forget it. I want you home, and... I want things back to how they were when we were still hot for each other."

"Sara we can get that back. We can put aside whatever we've done to hurt one another, and start new," Jim pronounced, figuring that if he gave her that prompt, she'd have to spill her guts, or he'd call her on it. Stupid man, did he hear himself?

"Aha, I knew it. Don't hurry coming home, Jim. Goodbye!" Click!

Jim thought back over what they'd said and decided he was no good on the phone, so he slept under his desk. In the morning, he threw himself into his work, not explaining to anyone why he was there. During lunch, he felt a growing emptiness in his heart. He packed up from work, and dashed home. An hour later... noone was home. It was only 2pm, so maybe she went shopping or something. He called a few of her favorite boutiques and the salon. No information, but he felt sure thay would never help his cause. Girl power or whatever. So he plopped himself on the couch and waited. For reasons he may never understand, as it got darker, Jim decided to move his car to the local overnight lot, hike back, and keep the lights as she had left them. He ordered takeout, but chose to put it out in the outdoor trash when he was done. At 9:30 that Thursday night he heard an engine and saw headlights. He went into the darkened bedroom and watched out the window. An hispanic man, two inches shorter than Sara, escorted her from his Fiero GT. Jim heard them open the door, all breathless conversation.

"Sara, Sara, you are so bonita, so linda, I enjoyed dancing with you!" She was dancing? "You move your hips so nice, I never saw a white woman learn the Salsa so quickly!" Salsa dancing!?

"Pedro, you make it so easy to learn, I never knew if it was true about Latin men and their... lovely rhythm!" Jim ducked back into the closet, closing the door most of the way, and heard only muffled grunts until the door to their bedroom popped wide, and Pedro gently lay his wife down on the bed, looking her over, and caressing her body like a work of art. Jim was ashamed to admit he learned a few things watching Pedro bring Sara to orgasm three times, and though it was a jab to the gut seeing her open her legs for him, he was proud that she insisted on a condom. He was fucking her for the second time that night, smooth and confident, when she peeped. "Ohhhh, that's my ass, Pedro!"

"Shhh, darling, let me know if anything feels bad, but trust me I only want your pleasure!" Jim risked all and peeked his head out to see Sara straddling Pedro sideways their legs intertwined, as his fingers twisted inside her virgin nether hole.

Sara felt guilt rise as she explored another area she'd never let Jim try. She realized this was largely due to her prudishness, but he had grown awfully complacent, never taking control the way these men did. She was so hot, and so loose, by the time Pedro pressed his rather small cock to her ass, she actually moaned and pushed back to help him impale her. In no time, she was cumming like mad, and Pedro had his way, he was cumming, bareback, inside her. No risk of pregnancy this way!

Jim was shocked to find he was hard as a rock throughout the process, and by the time Sara and Pedro came, he was jerking himself off into one of her silky slips. He came a few moments after them, and stuffed the soiled linen in a blazer pocket of his in the closet. The closet was quite large, and he eventually dozed off, just as they did.

Jim was sad that morning to hear Sara and Pedro enjoying breakfast, taking this second affair more seriously. When she left for work, he showered in his own house, dressed, and went to work as well, morosely and with no plan. He didn't even call her that day. What could he say? Instead, he went to her work, and waited. At 6:30 that Friday night, he watched her leave with a coworker. Mindy, the girl's name was. Mindy looked like a tramp, and could not have been over 20. Jim was glad he'd decided to follow them because they took Mindy's car, and ended up at a dive. Jim waited in the parking lot. Less than an hour later, he was glad to see Sara dragging Mindy out. His wife was obviously objecting to the low class. Had she been groped, or hit on? Had she liked it? Jim was getting hard again, as he followed them once again, to a little townhouse in the next town, apparently Mindy's place. There was a party going on there, it appeared. Apparently Mindy's roommates had invited more than a few people over. The women stayed parked for some time, then began driving again. Jim could tell they were headed to his home before long, and opted to zip around them by the back way, luckily not getting pulled over. He parked around the corner and dashed through the bushes to let himself in the back right as they pulled up.

Jim was finally getting control of his breathing and his heartbeat when the door opened, and Sara led Mindy into the family room. Jim was in his favorite closet again, and was pleased to see them arrive at his bed so quickly. He had his cock out, confident he would get a great show, and when Sara bashfully initiated a kiss, and Mindy responded by forcefully sucking her face, he had to stop touching himself so as not to blow too early. Sara was a classic beauty, a bit prudish looking but with long slender legs, creamy peach skin, a formidable C-cup rack, and a tight worked-out ass with shapely hips. Her eyes were a striking dark brown and her hair was medium length with a nice wave to it.