They were actually going at it in the bushes. We'd gotten to the picnic early and set up the barbecue. The rest of the employees, having arrived pretty much on time, were socializing and drinking and having a gay old time.

As third man in the company of Silver and Silver Mfg., that is Benjamin and Rodney Silver, I was the barbecue man of choice. At S&S we manufacture a plethora of household goods, mostly electrical appliances. It wasn't all me of course doing the cooking, I was a high mucky-muck in the company; so I did enlist the help of Jim Conroy, our sales manager and Mary Cousins, our HRO chief; still, again, in point of fact the barbecue pit was traditionally my very own fiefdom at these get togethers which was fine with me.

Jane, my wife of fifteen years, and I always arrived at these dos early and today was no exception. Jane was a housewife, had never worked a day of our married life together. But for our company picnics she always contributed the German potato salad and some other dishes as the mood struck her.

I could see her, Jane, now carrying on with my immediate boss, Rodney Silver over by the tree line. They were laughing up a storm. I was feeling good. Well, that is I had been. I had been until I'd gone looking for my wife who had earlier, without my noticing, gone missing.

I'd handed the barbecue helm over to Jim, and like I said, I'd gone looking for her. Carol Bisbee, the big boss' secretary—Ben Silver, Rod's older brother, was numero uno in the company—pointed me to a copse of shrubs across the park as the direction in which she had seen her heading with some others. At least she thought that that was the direction that Jane had gone.

My woman had been gone for a good forty-five minutes before I'd started hunting her down. It'd been a full hour before I'd found her, and I wished I hadn't. They—she and my boss— were in a small open space hidden behind some bushes. She was naked and lying on her clothes. His pants were pulled down around his knees, and his cock was buried deep inside her cunt.

I was stunned. I was angry. And, mostly, I was sad. I'd headed back to tend the barbecue I'd left in Jim's hands.

My stomach was roiling. Taking over from Jim, I did my best to concentrate on the nothingness of the job at hand: making really good hamburger patties.

It was about twenty minutes after my discovering them that the two adulterers showed up. Breaking away from him, she came to me.

"Hi honey, doing a good job?" she said. She was smiling to beat the band.

"Okay, I guess," I said.

"Nonsense, you make the best burgers in the county. That's why you always get to do the barbecuing," she said. I thought it sweet of her to let me know how appreciated my burgers were.

I didn't say anything or even look at her. She sensed that I had something on my mind. She asked.

"Something wrong, big guy?" she said. Now, I did look at her.

"I don't know. You tell me," I said.

"Huh?" she said.

"I guess you have to be the one to tell me if sex with me is still at least okay," I said.

She paled, but gathered herself. "Roger! Why on earth would you say something like that?"

"Well, since you feel the need to fuck my boss, I just wondered if there was anything left for me. I mean in your heart—and—your plans," I said.

"What are you talking about? Are you nuts?" she said.

"I saw you, in the bushes, a few minutes ago. He was fucking you, and you were encouraging him," I said.

"Oh my god! Oh, my god! Roger, what are you going to do?" She was looking furtively around to see if anyone was close enough to figure out what was going on; there wasn't. "It's not what you think, really," she said. I just stared at her. I didn't say anything. She wheeled around and started walking away from me. Her gait was purposeful.

I saw her go to him. He was kind of far off, over by the kids' swings giving his little boy Aaron an assist, a small push. His wife, Elise Silver had not come to the party, had one of her own to go to as he'd told me the day before./

I saw her talk animatedly to him. His head suddenly snapped around, and he looked in my direction. I held his gaze for some seconds before he turned back to her. Oddly, she stayed where she was as he came towards me. I flipped a burger I was tending just as he approached.

He looked over at Jim who was sipping a beer a few yards away. "Jim, could you take over for Roger for a couple of minutes, please." Jim came over and held out his hand for the spatula. I gave it to him.

My boss headed off toward the tree line to our right. It was clear that I was supposed to follow him. I did.

"Roger, I don't know what to say," he said. Of course I knew he was about to say a lot. Well, I assumed he was.

"I guess you caught us. Jane said you did. Whaddya gonna do?" he said.

"What can I do? Nothing," I said, answering my own question.

"Huh?" he said.

"Me divorce her? I get raped by the court. And again, if I quit my job? I'm screwed there too. I'm forty-eight, too old to start over. So, I guess there is nothing I can do," I said. "Anything else, mister Silver?"

"Uh—no—I guess not," he said. I turned and headed back to the barbecue pit.

I didn't smell divorce in the air as far as her having me served was concerned. And, I knew that Rodney, at age forty-five, wouldn't want to be looking to get a divorce from his wife, Elise Silver, since her mother; the missus Alice Barrington, the widow of Marshall Barrington of hotel fame, was the power behind the throne if there ever were such a thing. She had been the actual founder of S&S Inc. some twenty years earlier when brothers Ben and Rodney had come to her with a an idea for a new firm: a good idea as it turned out. At any rate, I knew I had time to figure things out.

I knew what I knew, and I knew that wouldn't change with me getting all upset and angry and problematical. No indeed, I intended to do nothing for the near term. I would get along with Jane, make no waves that would overtly threaten Rodney, and generally be mister good guy, mister more than reasonable guy. Hell, I still needed her. The question was, did she still need or want me?

We pulled into the driveway just as true dark settled in around us. The ride home had been mostly silent.

"I'll unload the car. Okay?" I said.

"Yes, better now than tomorrow, Sunday," she said. "Tomorrow will be just for us to hang out, unless you'd rather us do something else," she said.

"No, I have nothing on tap at the moment. But, I'll think it over," I said.

"That'll be fine," she said. She was watching me closely. So far we'd not so much as mentioned the happenings of earlier in the day.

I came in through the front door. I could hear her doing something in the kitchen. I headed for the bathroom. I needed a shower; I smelled like barbecue.

It was some little while before I joined her in the dinette where she'd decided to situate herself. She had a jug of martinis set out and was nursing one. She poured me one, dropping the olive into it, as I took my seat.

"I thought we could have a drink or two and talk," she said. "Or not."

"Whatever you want, Jane. I'm easy," I said.

She sipped her drink. I followed suit. "Rog, you okay?" she said.

"Sure. I guess so," I said. Jesus, she looked pretty at that moment—and—sexy. I wanted her even though I knew she still had his spunk inside of her.

"You're not hurt? Oh, heck, of course you're hurt. I mean seeing me—us—like that. I am very sorry for that, Rog, sincerely." I nodded. "Anything I can do—well, just ask. I mean it."

"I do have a question," I said.

"Yes?"

"How is your doing him going to affect us?" I said. "I mean..."

"It won't affect us at all on my account, Rog. I know I made a mistake. I know you have a right to be angry. I'm surprised you haven't gotten angry already. Anyway, like I say, I won't let what I did affect us. And, I promise to make it up to you," she said.

"Okay," I said. I wanted to ask the next question in the worst way, but I was afraid of the answer. She asked and answered it herself.

"Roger, I know you are wondering if I will do it with him again. I'd like to be able to say that I wouldn't. But..."

"But, you will," I said. She looked away, and then looked back at me and nodded.

"But Rog, it will not affect our love life, nor will it interfere with any of our future plans. I promise you that. Can you understand what I'm about here?"

"I don't know. Not much I can do about it. I guess I'll just have to see.

"You say it won't affect our love life. If I were to say, I want you right now; I mean right now, what would you say?"

"Rog, I'd say yes, of course. But Rog, I haven't showered or douched. I don't think..." I stood.

"Come on," I said. "I want you now."

"Rog? Are you sure. I mean I can take a shower first..."

"No, I need you right now," I said. She rose from her chair and started toward the hall. I took hold of her arm and coaxed her back to the table. I turned her around and bent her over it.

Going to my knees, I flipped her dress up and pulled her panties down and off of her. She spread her legs wide for me. She relaxed as I stood once more, dropped my pants, and pressed my cock, all five inches of it, into her pussy. I began seesawing in and out of her. She looked back at me and smiled. I took my time. I managed to give her an orgasm just as I came myself, a very rare event for us. She started to straighten up as I backed out of her, but I held her in place. No words were spoken. She relaxed once more.

"I knelt behind her, and gazed at her cunt; it oozed cum and pussy juice. I began cleaning her out with my tongue. I had never been so turned on in my life. She started to turn around and stand, but I pushed gently on her back wordlessly urging her to stay bent over and submit to me.

Watching her with him had been a self-revelation. A revelation that was still unfolding. I didn't know where it was going to go, or how it would end. But, whatever happened, it was sure that nothing would ever be the same between my wife and me again.

She shuddered as at least two more orgasms shattered her reserve. I helped her back up and kissed her deep and hard. As I broke the kiss, she gently pushed me back a little. She looked deep into my eyes. Her expression intense, confused, questioning.

""Roger, what's happening to us?" she said.

"Damned if I know. Honestly. I have to think. What I am sure of right now is that we are not done. Let's go to bed," I said.

We fucked three more times that night. The one thing I can claim without a fear of contradiction is my staying power: stamina I had, more than most guys for sure. That said, I'd always had a problem getting her off. I didn't know if it was the length of my dick or the way I brushed her clit or what, but I could screw her all night and never get her off. She did make it on rare occasions, but only on rare occasions and on those nights she was more exhausted than I was; like she was the one that made it happen not me. At any rate, on this night, we fell asleep in each other's arms satisfied, and I'll be damned if I knew where all of this would end.

"Say that again," he said. "I mean I want to hear it all again because I don't believe it,"

"I don't blame you. I don't believe it either. But it's true. Roger was turned on, crazy turned on, from seeing you screw me. I have to tell you; he was better than you. This time he was better than you. He doesn't have your equipment, but Jesus did he have enthusiasm," she said.

He was slowly shaking his head from side to side. "The upside of all of this? said Rodney.

"The obvious upside, Rodney my dear, is that we don't have to worry about him outing us to your wife or kicking me to the curb," said, Jane.

"Dare I have the temerity to ask what's next?" he said.

"Frankly, I haven't a clue. I think the best course, for now, is for me to give him some time, a little space and let him find his equilibrium. Then, and only then, hint at some games of one kind or another. And before you ask me, no, I have no clue what game to suggest to him," she said. He nodded.

"Jane, no disrespect, I like the guy; but is it possible that our Roger is some kind of wimp?" he said. She smirked.

"I don't think so, but I really do not know. This is all so off the charts—I just don't know," she said.

"And us?" he said.

"We'll have to cool it for a while," she said. "But, I think that if we're careful—and I mean careful and patient—this may work for us, and maybe him too. It's worth a try." He nodded his agreement.

"Okay, just keep me in the loop. You know I love you, and I need you as much as he does."

"It shall be so," she said.

I was back at work Monday, and I was early. I wasn't giving anybody the slightest of reasons to fire me, remote as I was sure that possibility was. Plus, I wanted to make sure the guy who was helping my wife cuckold me wouldn't feel threatened. I knew his wife would destroy him if he were outted, but in that case I would without a doubt lose my job and I'd be screwed over too. No, I had to just put up with their shit and keep on keepin' on.

"I'd be ignoring their little liaisons in the future. I just hoped she wouldn't be rubbing my nose in it. I didn't think she would be, but who knew for sure.

I was tending to the report I was putting together for the quarterly sales figures when he came up to me.

"How's it going, Rog," said Rodney.

"Okay, almost done. I'll have the report on your desk by day's end," I said.

"Good, good. I need them for my report to the big boss," he said. I nodded.

"But on another note, we okay? You and me?" he said.

"Sure, I guess so. You?" I said.

"Yes, yes, of course, but you know..." he said.

"Mister Silver, I'm not going to make any waves. But—if you do her in the future, I'd appreciate it if you were discreet. It would be kinda humiliating if others..." my voice trailed off.

"Rog, you have nothing to worry about. I can promise you that," he said. I noted he hadn't said he wouldn't be screwing her, but he hadn't said he would be either. Just that I didn't have anything to worry about. I nodded.

For the next two months I was more than sure that I was the only one to use her cunt. Could I have been wrong about that? Maybe, but not likely. I worked where he did, and he was available to me the entire day. And since I went home immediately after work each day, and she was there when I got there each day, I don't know when she could have slipped out to him. Maybe lunch hours, but that would have been a helter skelter thing, and not too satisfying for either of them. No, she was cooling it for a while at the least. But then all of my thinking on the subject came to naught. She told me she was going to him. Nothing like being up front about things I suppose.

Yes, I was startled. Who wouldn't have been? And, oh, she was dressed very nicely.

"Honey, I'm—I'm going to be seeing Rodney tonight. Please don't wait up," she said. I will make it up to you tomorrow. Okay?" I just stared, but said nothing. I turned my back on her and left the room

I went up to our room. I laid down and tried to sleep even though it was only 7:00PM. I heard her car start up and then I was alone.

I analyzed my situation some more. It had been my primary occupation ever since the day at the picnic. I had hoped that maybe the sex we'd been having had been enough; and, it had never been better. I know that was true for the both of us. But, for some damn reason, good was evidently not good enough. Was his cock supersize? Did he have that much more staying power than me; I doubted that. Did he smell better? Was he more romantic? What the fuck was it that made my wife willing to fuck him and essentially rub my nose in it like she did tonight?

Oh, I was sure, that she was of the opinion that she was just being honest and up front with me. But, her just informing me that she was going to go to him; well, that is the very definition of rubbing my nose in it. And that was the one thing that might end us, none of the consequences attendant to her activities or my risking dumping her withstanding.

I needed a drink. I got up, grabbed my coat, and headed for the liquor store. I pulled into the lot, and changed my mind. I headed for the Roundtrip, my favorite watering hole, instead. It had been a while since I'd been in, I twern't much of a barfly. But, tonight was special; well, I saw it as special. My wife didn't know it, but she had just declared our marriage open.

I hadn't had any strange since the day we'd said our vows fifteen years gone, and really a year and a half before that. But, now, at our common age of forty, I was seriously considering making the effort to find me some now. The odd thing? I wasn't even all that mad. I was sad, true enough, but not really angry. I loved my woman and the disappointment at her doing me like she was, was killing my heart, hence, my sadness.

I more or less surreptitiously surveyed my environs from my barstool. Mostly guys hanging out after a day at the plant. A couple of women were yakking with the bartender at the other end. There was a toy manufacturer nearby and I could tell from the logos on the work shirts of a dozen guys, half of them over by the pool table, that they worked there. I headed over to join the shooters. I put a couple of quarters under the overhang of the table's rails, nodding to the players, and waited for somebody to tell me it was my ups. I went back to the bar.

It was about twenty minutes later that I was called. The game was straight pool, my favorite, and it was call shot. I won the first game, but lost in game two. I hung around gabbing with the shooters for the next little while.

Everybody had a story to tell, and I told mine. Which by the way, was one of three just like it.

"Names, Nick, Nick Klaver," the guy said as he relinquished the table to the next up.

"Roger, Roger Carlyle," I said.

"So, you say your wife is out spreading for your boss," he said.

"Yeah she is," I said. She told me not to worry or wait up." Nick smiled.

"You thinkin' of doin' anything about it? Maybe getting' some strange of your own or divorcing her?" he said.

"I don't know. Yeah," I said, "maybe yeah."

"You want a little help in that regard?" said Nick.

"Help? What kind of help?' I said. There was that smile again.

"Be here tomorrow same time. I think I just might have a possible solution to your problem," he said.

Just then we were interrupted as a lady. It was a younger lady, maybe thirty-five, and pretty came up to us.

"You ready to go, Nick?" she said.

"Yeah, I am," he said. He turned to me one more time.

"Tomorrow, 9:00PM," he said. And he was gone.

I was home at around midnight-thirty. She was there too: upstairs changing. I came into the room and was met with a quizzical glare.

"And you've been where all this time?" she said. I had to smile. I mean the hypocrisy of it, the question.

"At the Roundtrip. Got a problem with that?" I said, more or less standing up for myself. She seemed to relax.

"No, I suppose not," she said.

"You suppose not? Hey, I'm an adult. I can do what I please, unless you know of some law that forbids it," I said. And, yes, I was being a little testy.

"But, since it's Q&A time, may I ask, how did your fuck go tonight? Was it good. You know, satisfying?" I said.

"Look, Roger, Rodney is no threat to you or us. Okay. It's just a little playing on the side. And, for the record it's fairly rare, as I'm sure you have deduced," she said.

"You didn't answer my question?" I said, ignoring her analysis of what I knew.

"Yes, it was good, okay. No better than when you and I do it, but different. It's a matter of variety is all," she said.

"Well, okay then. I should tell you I did win twenty bucks at straight pool tonight. But, then, mores the pity, I lost it in the next Game. So, I guess it was sort of a good night for me too. I mean I did come out even if not actually ahead. You know kinda like my sex life, my marriage," I said.

She just glared at me. "Let's go to bed, she said finally. I'm tired and so must you be. It's late."

We went to bed, and surprise surprise she reached for my dick and it reacted traitorously. Stiff, as a five-inch long two-inch thick length of rebar, my little man reacted quite naturally to her sucking me off and swallowing it all. Oh, and the swallowing was a first!

"Well, that was a surprise," I said, seriously. She smiled.

"And there is plenty more where that came from since you are apparently being so understanding of my—activities," she said.

"Wait, wait, wait a minute. Are you saying that if I'm cool with you and him fucking up a storm that I will be rewarded? Is that what you're saying?" I said.

"That's exactly what I'm saying, young man," she said. I frowned, and then she did.

"What? What did I say?" she said, clearly wondering at my less than enthusiastic reaction.

"Well, and what If I'm not inclined to be reasonable. Then nothing for me? I can forget it? Is that what you're saying?" I said. She suddenly realized her faux pas.

"No, no, that is not what I meant. It's just that I do want you to be happy, and I thought..." she started.

"So, if I said to stop all of that stuff with him. You'd be okay with it; it wouldn't put an end to us or an end to my getting—what—rewarded?" I said.

"Roger, let me put it this way. No, my having sex with you is not conditional. Your tolerance, however, does inspire me to do more for you; well, like just now. Anyway, that said, I hope you will remain as tolerant as you have so far about my being with him on a 'rare' occasion," she said, emphasizing the word 'rare'. "Frankly, I have to say that I am surprised that you haven't gone off on me. And not just surprised, but grateful; I mean if I my say so."

"Yeah, right, tolerant that's me," I said, rolling over and going to sleep. I did have admit that the blow job had been state of the art, inspired by my wimpy ass tolerance or not.

I got there a little past eight. I'd broken it to her that I would be going out just as we'd finished eating.

"I'm gonna go play some more pool tonight, dear. I don't figure on being all that late," I said.

"You—going out—I mean you..." she started.

"Yeah, and thank you in advance for your tolerance," I said.

"Wha—huh?"

I had headed upstairs to get dressed. I didn't exactly dress to the nines, but I was significantly better dressed than I had been when I'd gone out the night before.

"You're wearing a tie to play pool," she said as I gave her a peck goodbye.

"Yeah," I said, and I was gone.

Nick was already there and standing in the midst of the pack of shooters waiting their turns and commenting on this or that shot as the occasion arose. I waved to him. He gave me a look and smiled.

He came up to me and waved me over to the bar. "Good to see you. I wondered if you were gonna show," he said.

"Yeah, well, I was curious," I said. "I mean as to how you figured to help me out of my situation. I gotta say so long as it isn't about breaking any law, I'm likely to be down for it,"

"No, no, nothing illegal," he said. "Got someone I want you to meet actually."

"Someone? A woman?" I said. I kinda half way figured it might be that.

"Hmm, yes, and a special woman if I may say so," he said.

"Hmm, I don't know. I mean, I am still hoping to save my marriage. I mean I know what I said Last night. But, heck I only met you last night let alone a new woman."

"And if you picked a woman up in a bar, you'd only have known her what, maybe even less than a couple of hours. Right?" he said. He had a point.

"Well, yeah, I guess that's so," I said.

"And this woman has been vetted, by me," he said. "And she is special."

"Special?" I said.

"Well, yeah," he said. "She's—well—she's my sister." All of a sudden I was losing interest fast. He saw my face fall and reacted.

"No, no. She's a princess, really," he said, "and very pretty."

"But? I hear a 'but' in there some place," I said. He looked away, looked back, and his demeanor morphed from almost desperate to determined. I was reintrigued

"Man, Roger, well—she's a prostitute. But! She'd give it up, the lifestyle that is, for the right guy," he said. I was suddenly unreintrigued.

"Look, Nick, I ain't castin' any stones, but..." I started.

"Man, just meet her. You can go to the bathroom and leave by the back door if it gets too uncomfortable," he said. He looked desperate again, so much so that I just shrugged and said okay.

She was five minutes late for the presumed 9:00PM meet up. She was smiling broadly and being the consummate pro coming up to me and offering me her hand to shake. It was the same girl that had come the night before to pick him up. We shook. "Very nice to meet you," she said.

"Very nice to meet you too," I said.

I motioned for the three of us to take our seats. This girl was a star if beauty had anything to do with it. George Gordon, Lord Byron had written a poem about her two hundred years before she was born: "She Walks in Beauty." I'd seen her the evening before, but then she'd been in ragged jeans and a t-shirt, hair in a bob, and no makeup. That was not the case now. She looked like a million bucks.

I was so glad I had dressed up some before coming to the meet. "Roger, I'd like you to meet Camilla, my sister," said Nick. And just like that I was launched on a path that I had no business being launched on. But then again? Well, maybe this was fate.

The talk went on for some little while. No mention of Camilla's job. I wondered if she knew that her brother had outted her to me. It didn't matter an iota to me; I was fucking well reintrigued—again.

After the second round of drinks, Nick made his excuses, and I was more than grateful that he did.

"Like to change the venue?" I said.

"Sure, I guess," she said. The girl always seemed to be half smiling.

I took us to the Starfish, a seafood place with a mellow atmosphere, a piano man that was in to romantic classics.

"Nice choice," she said. "Come here often?"

"Used to, but since my wife; well, since my wife has kinda gotten into some things, not so much."

"Too bad," she said. "So you and your wife are on the outs?" she said. "My brother clued me about your situation." I nodded.

"Hard to say, but it looks like we're done. I'm having her served this coming week. Seems like she needs more than I can deliver, or maybe it's just variety that she's after as she told me. I need a one man woman," I said.

"So there it was. I'd laid it out there for her to pick up and run with it. She, Camilla, was most definitely not a one man woman. I mean by definition a prostitute was anything but.

She started laughing. Almost like she couldn't contain herself. "I said something funny?" I said.

"Well, kinda, yes," she said. "I know my brother told you some stuff. And one of the things that he told you was my career choice. Right?" she said. I know I was red faced.

"Yeah, kinda," I said.

"Look, Roger, I'm divorced. I'm thirty-seven. My man dumped me for an eighteen year-old budding model. I took up escorting to pay the bills: an old friend of mine is in the business, and I'm good looking enough to do okay at it, so I do. But, if I ever marry again, I will be a one man woman for the man that I marry.

"Now, I know we have just met, so all of this talk about marriage and one man women is way over the top and premature, but it does have the virtue of being out of the way and done with.

"Now, we can get on with having a good time, and you can get on with wondering how long it's going to be before you get to bed me. Oh, and it won't be tonight. You're not a customer, and I'm not in the habit of spreading for each and every guy I date. That all okay with you?" she said. I nodded.

"Yes it is. And frankly, I am more than glad that we got all that stuff out of the way too. And, I will be thinking about the other thing as well," I said. She smiled and giggled; she knew what I was referring to.

"So what do you do? Nicky didn't say much except that you might be available to date and that you seemed a serious guy," she said. "So who are you really?"

"Okay, all fair questions. I'm third man at Silver and Silver Industries. We manufacture housewares of various types. The pay's okay and the benefits high end. Been doing it since getting out of college a thousand years ago," I said.

"A thousand years ago? You don't look all that old," she said, laughing.

"No, I'm soon to be forty-one. Married—for now—no kids, pretty much debt free, and planning on moving on with my life if we divorce which, like I said, seems to be more than likely," I said.

I'd told Jane that I would not be especially late. That turned out to be inaccurate. It was after 2:00AM before I trudged up the stairs to our bedroom, undressed, fell half dead into bed—well, four manhattans do things to a man. Oh, and Jane? She wasn't home.