Hell School

Chapter 20

"Did they say that?" she said, shyly, incredulously. I grunted, nodding my head, as I kicked my shoes to the floor.

"And you...? You were listening?"

"Yeah," I gritted, my jeans coming off in a rush. I dragged my shorts down, over my distended erection. "I was mad, at first, then – I thought about you, and them, and them – taking off your clothes and feeling your t**s and your ass – and then laying you down on the tarpaulin and spreading your legs... "

Somewhere along the line, Joan had pulled off her shorts and panties and was naked on the couch, legs apart, her hand between her thighs, her middle finger stimulating her c******s. Her head was thrown back, her tongue running round her lips.

"Come and f**k me, Kyle," she gasped, hoarsely. "Come on – pretend you've watched them feeling my bare t**s and sliding their c***s up me, one by one. Come and... aaaaagh!"

I plunged my rod deep inside her wet gaping cunt and felt the tight slippery muscles grip and massage it as I began to ride her hard, my mouth fastened on to one distended n****e.

"This... was... how... Louie... wanted... to... fuck... you," I gasped with each stroke. I knew I was taking liberties with the truth, but I wanted her to think of someone else on top of her – a new c**k – a young, tireless one which could f**k her into oblivion.

"Yes," she gasped. "And Donald, too!"

For a second or two, I thought – "Who the f**k is Donald?" – but then all coherent thought deserted me as the red mist rose and rockets and stars went off in my head and I made one last desperate plunge up my writhing, gasping wife before my c**k finally twitched uncontrollably and the volcano burst forth.

I seemed to come for literally ages and almost passed out completely with the intensity of my o****m. To my shame, I had no idea whether Joan came or not. When I returned to my senses, I was sprawled on top of her and my limp d**k was hanging helplessly between her thighs.

Joan's arms were clasped round me, tightly – a fact I noted with intense relief. Never before had our lovemaking encompassed the notion of Joan letting another man have her and, now that I had returned to a post-orgasmic sanity, I was very unsure as to how she would take the idea that such a thing could excite me.

It never occurred to me that she could be worried about how I would react to her getting turned on by the same thing and I don't know what might have happened if the phone hadn't rung at that moment.

It was the call I had been expecting – from the office. I was surprised they had managed to cope this long without me – and very relieved they hadn't called twenty minutes earlier! By the time, I had finished the call, the boys had been brought back, hollering for something to eat, and Joan was back in the kitchen – back to being a normal wife and mom.

She went to bed early that night, and I guessed she was a little disturbed at the turn our lovemaking had taken that afternoon – as, indeed, was I. I sat, alone, thinking about the incredible excitement I had derived from the picture of the three moving men stripping my lovely wife in the back of their van, then taking turns at f*****g her, each in his own special way. I was also incredibly turned on by the way Joan had joined me in my fantasy and, as I thought about it, my hand stroked the sensitive underside of my erect c**k, through my trousers, then I had to release it, and I m*********d to o****m, thinking of my wife gasping in ecstasy as another hard c**k plunged between her willing thighs...

But, in the following days and weeks, I remained very confused about why I should feel like this, and more than a little guilty. For her part, Joan didn't seem to want to go into that territory again, and, even though I was tempted, during our - more frequent, now – bouts of lovemaking, I managed to restrain myself.

Then, about three months later, we were shopping in the local mall, with the boys. It was a Saturday afternoon, and we were taking a break for an ice-cream for the boys, and coffee for us. Joan was queuing at the counter, with our tray, and we were sitting at a table. I noticed a tall dark guy, at another table, watching Joan, with a peculiar intensity in his gaze.

As though she felt his stare, Joan turned and met his eye. She smiled, and mouthed 'Hi!' at him, then her eyes flickered over to me, and I saw a pink tinge of colour on her cheekbones. The guy, too, looked a little embarrassed as he smiled back, and I thought his face was a bit familiar, though I couldn't place him.

When Joan returned, she didn't mention the encounter, but I noticed her eyes drifting over, more than once, to where the guy sat, on his own. Something told me that there was more to this than met the eye, but I didn't say anything. Joan's manner seemed a little forced, then she relaxed and, when I looked again, the guy had gone. During the course of the afternoon, this strange episode remained at the back of my mind, and I kept worrying at it, and trying to remember where I had seen the guy, before.

After the boys had gone to bed, Joan and I were having a little late supper, on our own. We weren't saying a lot and I was thinking more and more about the incident in the afternoon. I decided to find out more.

"Who was the guy at the ice-cream parlour?" I asked, suddenly, as though he had just come to mind.

"Which guy?" came the automatic response. Like all women, Joan always answers a question with another question.

"He was sitting at a table while you were at the paydesk – you said 'Hi' to him."

"Oh – that was just Donald – the laundry man," said Joan. This time, there was no hint of embarrassment – but the guy's name hit me like a thunderbolt, and I recalled where, and when, I had seen him before. He had turned up on moving-in day – he was the one Joan had been talking to when I was listening to the removal men discussing her.

And – his name was the one Joan had cried out when she was on the point of o****m, imagining herself being well and truly f****d by some one other than me!

I remembered how he had been gazing down her cleavage, then admiring the sway of her sexy bottom as she walked back to the house. I felt my c**k begin to stiffen and I was glad we were sitting at the table. But I tried to remain 'cool'.

"Oh," I said. "I thought I recognised him. Wasn't he the guy who came the day we moved in?"

Joan's cheeks coloured, but they always did that when one of us mentioned that day. I'm sure, like me, she couldn't think of it without calling to mind our mind-blowing s*x on the couch in the den.