A Little Story Of Love And Betrayal. free porn video

I don't doubt that reading a bank statement has bought unhappiness to many people. It's almost certainly a common thing, probably caused disasters far worse than my own. But that didn't help -- not one bit.

I was just sorting through some papers on my wife's desk at home, trying to find whether she'd paid the phone bill or something similar, something quite ordinary and innocent. That's when I found it, lying there under a pile of bills and other things.

A bank statement, from Barclays as it happened, and I probably only noticed it because we do all our stuff with HSBC, and the blue colour on the heading just caught my attention. I guess she'd chosen another bank to keep it hidden, which was ironic really, as it was that difference that led me to taking note, and flipping through it.

First I checked the name at the top, and it read Jenny Mathews, so no surprise there, but the address I'd never heard of, somewhere in the West End of London, way south of Cambridge where we lived.

Next I checked the figure at the bottom, s*******n thousand five hundred and forty six pounds, a tidy balance, but where had it come from; I had no idea. Then I looked at the list of transactions over the last three months, and was staggered at the regular large sums of money that had been going into it. Six hundred pounds one day, over a thousand a week later, then eight hundred just six days later, and so it went on.

Now I make a good living from my business, and was used to largish sums of money, but Jenny only did a bit of part time work for some public relations company, an occasional afternoon, or more likely an evening, at the most a week end, standing in for someone at some function or other, and even then mainly only for the fun of it, as it didn't pay a fortune.

It was when I scanned the list of payouts that I was really thrown, as there; every month was the same sum of money taken out by standing order, five hundred and sixty seven pounds. The sum sounded worryingly familiar.

I walked over to her cabinet, a fancy old fashion rolled top affair from the late nineteenth century, opened it, and got out my wife's banking file. She was always very neat and precise Jenny, and I knew exactly where to look as we shared everything, no secrets between us. Or at least there hadn't been till then. I found the HSBC statements, and scanned through them quickly till I found what I wanted, having no compunctions about going through her bank details, as she showed them to me regularly.

There it was in black and white, her salary from the agency, five hundred and sixty seven pounds every month!

I was lost, absolutely lost. It seemed that Jenny was paying herself her own salary from her own bank account.

Why the hell would she do that?

Did she really have a job at all?

Where on earth did the money come from in the first place?

Was this something to worry about, and was it any of my business?

Like hell it was. What was Jenny up to?

I grabbed the Barclays statement again, and studied it in more detail, realising that virtually the only money ever withdrawn seemed to be the monthly payments, whereas the payments in, were sporadic, frequent, but with no pattern to them. It then occurred to me that there was an awful lot more money going in, than coming out, so I looked back at the balance at the bottom of the last page.

bloody hell!

It wasn't s*******n thousand five hundred and forty six pounds. I'd missed a zero, and it was one hundred and seventy five thousand, four hundred and sixty.

Fucking hell!

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My name is Jim Mathews, I'm thirty-eight, quite presentable, and run my own computor business, where I employ two other people. My wife Jenny is twenty eight, ten years to the week younger than me, and to my mind just about the right age difference. I give her my maturity, such as I have, my experience in life, and a very comfortable life style. She gives me her relative youth, her beauty, which she has in abundance, and all the fun in the world.

We both give one another our loving, both spiritually and physically, without reserve.

We are both, without doubt, after three years of marriage, still head over heels in love with one another, as I had been since our first date.

I'd been up in London for a meeting with a guy to discuss some deal with Google, and I was sitting in the Hotel bar afterwards, thinking about the possible advantages of going along with their idea. Then Jenny walked in, and my insides flipped. It's not that I didn't have a girl friend, in fact I probably had too many, but none of them were that special. Somehow I knew that she could be special, but only if I could get to know her.

Jenny was five foot six tall, slim, with nice shapely, tanned legs that seemed to go on forever, from the dainty high heels on her feet, till they disappeared under the very short cocktail dress that she wore. She had longish dark hair, and deep brown eyes with a cute little turned up nose. My dream girl wasn't a classic beauty, but she didn't need to be, and every man in the place must have been eyeing her up, all no doubt with similar thoughts to my own.

She simply oozed breeding, elegance, confidence, fun and sex, and not necessarily in that order.

I'm sure everyone watched her as she looked around, nodding to the receptionist who obviously knew her, no doubt a regular resident.

Then she looked straight at me and my insides did a somersault, as her soft brown eyes melted away any doubts that I wanted her.

I smiled back, and acknowledged her, wondering what the hell to do next, but didn't have to worry about it. A smile that would have lit up the street outside flashed across her face, and she walked towards me, her hips swinging lightly to emphasize her shapely body, her breasts, ample, but not too large, swaying in time with her steps, suggesting that maybe, just maybe, she didn't have an awful lot on underneath that dress.

" Hi, you must be James," she said to my surprise.

"Jim, not James," I replied, my voice perhaps a bit hoarse.

"James, Jim, what's the difference?" She laughed, and I wasn't about to argue with her.

"May I sit down?" she asked, in her rather clipped very British upper class, but very sweet accent.

"Of course, of course," came my urgent response, leaping up to pull the chair back for her.

Even the way she sat down showed class, as if she had been taught how to do it at some posh finishing school.

I wondered, why me? What had I done to earn the attention of this dream on legs of a woman? How on earth did she know my name?

"I'm Jenny," she said. "Sorry I'm late, but I got held up. Thanks for waiting."

She then looked at me, and asked, "Are you OK Jim?"

I was. I was fine, but she later laughed as she told me that I had looked totally shocked.

I recovered quickly however, and within moments we were engaged in gentle banter, delighted to discover that we shared so many interests, the same music, tennis, Indian food, and believe it or not even rugby. Jenny was an educated woman, and could speak about a whole range of subjects, unlike the semi bimbos that I had been with lately.

Then her mobile rang, she excused herself and answered it. I heard her say, "No I'm here............ No he's here as well......... Couldn't be, he's here with me.......... Oh dear, Oh Golly....hang on a mo."

She looked at me quizzically, the smile returning to her lovely features, and I stared back.

"Were you expecting me by any chance?" She asked.

"No. But I'm very pleased you arrived," I replied cheekily.

"You're not James Green at all, are you?"

"No, I'm Jim Mathews."

"Oh shit," she said as she giggled, and lifted her mobile " Cock-up!" She said into it. "I was late and I've got the wrong James...or Jim actually."

Her use of profanities with her posh accent was wonderful. Sounded so out of place, yet so natural. She turned her head and half covered her mouth so that I could not make out the next few exchanges between her and whoever was on the other end of the line. I just knew I was going to lose her in the next few minutes, and desperately tried to think of something witty to say the moment she ended the call.

Then Jenny looked back at me, still holding the phone, that smile, verging on a grin, spreading back across her face.

"No he's quite cute actually," she said into the phone, but staring straight at me, making sure that I could hear. "Rather good looking in a rugged sort of way."

I think I may have blushed.

"OK then. Give him my apologies. Next time he's in the UK maybe," and she finished her conversation, slipping her mobile back into her bag.

"Well then," she said. "Looks like I've missed my appointment.... Never mind it'll keep."

The smile never left her face. "Assuming you're free this evening, what do you fancy doing, and how about we do it together?"

I refrained from telling her what my first choice would have been, and suggested that we had dinner. She readily agreed and that's exactly what we did. The best meal of my life, and I hardly noticed what we eat. I was already under her spell.

Jenny told me about her job in PR, how she set up meetings, arranged discrete functions, helped her agency to put people together in the right place at the right time. She obviously loved it, and I was already hoping that she could love me as much.

After the meal I walked her back to the taxi rank, overjoyed to see that there was a small queue, and that I would have more time to chat, and this time to hold her.

I put my arm around her and she snuggled up, sliding her arm around my waist, and cuddling up to me. I kissed her lightly on the cheek, and she returned the favour, just the sweet smell of her sending my senses into overdrive.

Then she looked round, manoeuvred me between her and the others in the queue, put her arms up around my neck, and pulled me down till our lips met.

Heaven!

Just the briefest of touches, but it was like discovering the land of milk and honey. And I had the honey in my arms.

I got carried away, and almost disgraced myself, as I kissed her more hungrily, running my hands over her back, feeling the soft curve as it descended down to her bottom.

"Hey! Hang on. Hang on," she cried, and then laughed. "Give a girl a chance can't you. We've only just met."

I drew back, disappointed, but not really. Frustrated, but not really. This was some special girl and worth the effort, worth the wait.

"Sorry," I apologised. "Got carried away," and she giggled deliciously yet again.

"Slowly," she said. "Kiss me slowly. It'll be worth it in the long run."

Christ I was lost, and I think it was then that I fell in love with Jenny, my wife.

That was it on our first accidental date. I suggested we might go back to my hotel for a nightcap, but she'd have none of it, teasing me that I was after a little more than that, and that a first date was just too soon.

"Can I see you again?" I asked, and she teased me again, humming and haring about whether it would be worth it, all the time holding on to me, holding me against her beautiful slim body, and sending me crazy with desire.

"OK." She relented at last, shrugging her lovely shoulders. "I'll ring you; what's your number?"

"I don't trust you," I said, a bit boldly. "You give me yours and I'll ring you."

"No can do Jim," Jenny replied quietly. "I don't give my number out, especially to hansom strangers I'm afraid. I'll ring you."

We made a compromise and agreed to meet the following Tuesday, too long for me, but the earliest she could manage.

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What was I going to do about this newfound knowledge about my wife's affairs? Why did she have all this money, and where did it come from. Sure her parents were rich, owned an estate down in Kent. Hunted, shot pheasants, and owned a fair share of one of the smaller merchant banks. One that had survived the aftermaths of the big bang as well, so obviously the family was well connected. There was no reason why my wife wouldn't have money, even sums like that, but where had it come from, and why in obscure if substantial sums?

It had to be something to do with the public relations company she worked for, but really, I had no idea.

I'd ask her.

I just knew I couldn't. If she was hiding it from me, then there was a reason, and I had to find out that reason whatever it cost. I have to admit, it frightened me a bit. Though it seemed impossible, it seemed that Jenny seemed to be mixed up in some shady deal or something.

I had to go down to London a few days afterwards, so I looked up the address on the statement.

It was a swishy area, and reeked of money, old money, just the sort of place Jenny's family would feel comfortable in. At least that relaxed me a little.

I looked at the brass plates on the door, but none of them meant anything, just a couple catching my eye, 'Corporate Agency' and 'Golden Circle Agency', the others all being accountants or stockbrokers by the sound of them.

I waited around for a while, but nobody arrived or left. No joy there.

I had drawn a blank and didn't know how to proceed. All I could do was confront her, but that didn't appeal at all. She was hiding something from me, and now it seemed possible her family were involved. I had to find out what, and perhaps more important, why.

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Our second date was memorable, and I remember quite clearly what she wore. The tight denim jeans and white sweater would have looked good on any attractive woman, Pierre Cardin just has that ability, but on her it was stunning. I'm sure it was for women like my wife that designers like him got their inspiration. It was a woman like my wife perhaps that launched a thousand ships.

We went to the theatre, then on for a late dinner. It was superb again. No idea at all what we eat.

Afterwards the two of us strolled down the banks of the Thames, arm in arm, like lovers have done throughout time, and I sort of assumed she would come back to my hotel. She did, and I sort of assumed she would come up to my room. She did, and I sort of assumed that she would join me in bed. She didn't! She wouldn't!

Not that we didn't enjoy ourselves, and not that I didn't manage to persuade her out of her sweater, her beautiful firm breasts being everything and more than I could ever have hoped for, as I squeezed them gently, played with her nipples, licked them and even sucked them, till she gasped out in pleasure.

She grabbed me, kissed me passionately, forcing her tongue in between my lips, twirling it around mine, the very taste of her sending me into a trance. I caressed her breasts, rubbed them, squeezed them, and played with them unmercifully, relishing the silkiness of her skin, the hardness of her nipples, and the exquisite perfection of her body. I slid my hand down, over her breasts, down past her flat tummy, and found the top button to her jeans, so tight round her hips, but so inviting.

My fingers started to undo the top button, and she gasped, cried out, her hips already gyrating, thrusting herself up to my hand.

Then she stopped.

Just like that, realising perhaps how far we were going, and what it would lead to.

" No, please no," she whispered, holding my hand, but without the resolve to actually push it away. "I'm not ready. Not yet, please don't."

It was maybe the most difficult decision I ever made in my life till then. I stopped, pulled back, but left my hand where it was, hovering over her pubis, not daring to lower my hand down onto it even though it was still covered by the denim crotch of her designer jeans.

She made no attempt to stop me, almost daring me to defy her, looking at me imploringly however, trusting me not to.

Then the moment was over, and we cuddled up, kissing and holding one another tightly.

bloody hell, we were adults, me in my thirties, and her into her twenties, but she wasn't ready, not yet.

I asked what the problem was, if there was indeed a problem, and she nodded, whispered yes, and then burst into tears.

What can you do?

If you love the woman, and by then I undoubtedly did, then you accept it. I held her tightly, stroked her hair, spoke to her calmly and told her that everything was OK.

We lay there like that, and my passion died slowly down, only my love for her remaining. A good hour later she sighed, and eventually got up, apologised, and tears started to run down her cheeks again.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered. "I'm in such a mess, such a fucking awful mess, you've no idea. No idea at all."

I pulled her tight to me, the tighter the better, to make all her problems go away, and eventually, for the time being at least, they did.

"Thank you Jim," she said at last. " You are the most wonderful man."

She kissed me, and everything seemed fine.

We stayed there cuddling for some time, but it had to end, and I found myself escorting her out to the taxis yet again. One in the morning and still no sex, but I'd never felt so bloody good in my life.

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I thought about confronting Jenny with the problem of where all the money had come from, and why was she paying herself.

At best it could be from her family, maybe cash they were stashing away from the taxman. That took my fancy for some time, but it was too easy, too convenient, and I knew there was more to it.

I had no other explanation, nothing at all, just a knot building up in my stomach that not all was as it seemed, and that I was in for a major shock, though even then, I did not imagine how big a shock I was in for.

I followed her one evening, all the way to London, when she was off on one of her jobs for the PR firm, keeping her Audi carefully in my sights to see if she really did go to the hotel where her company had set up some meeting or other, or whether she would slip off to meet someone sinister.

But no, there she was, pulled up outside the correct hotel, good as gold, elegantly stepping out of her car, and handing the keys to some attendant. Nothing to get upset about, and several hours wasted by following her all the way down from Cambridge.

What a bloody fool I had become. I resolve to just ask her, the explanation would surely be quite simple. I'd ask her that very night, when she got back, however late it might be.

But she didn't come back that night, and woke me in the morning, the ring of the telephone bringing me back into the real world, away from my tormented sleep, as I raised myself from the sofa where I had spent the night waiting for her return.

"Hi Jim," she chirped, as happy and bright as a lark. "Sorry, got really tied up in some discussions last night, and the company paid for a room at the hotel for me. Went well though. Be back before lunchtime. How about lunch at the bull, and I'll tell you about it?"

"Why didn't you ring me last night?" I demanded. "I've been worried."

"I did," she said with concern. "But there was no answer.... I left a message."

I looked down and sure enough the message light was flashing on the phone. She must have rung when I was on my way back from London, and I hadn't noticed when I'd come in, with all the other things on my mind.

I agreed to meet her at the Bull, but I was still confused. I felt the world closing in on me. I didn't know what to do, or what else to say.

The next week I followed her again, feeling like a traitor, hating myself for the distrust that I felt, and the thoughts that were permeating my brain.

Our third date was a defining moment. I'd looked forward to it like an adolescent, hoping against hope that all would go well. Hoping that I might get her into bed, but even more than that, praying that the date would go well, that she would be happy, and that the awkward tensions of our previous date would not resurface.

We met in neutral ground, half way between London and Cambridge, at a lovely little Inn that I had discovered some months before. It was an inspired choice, and Jenny was relaxed from the start, everything I could have wished for, from the moment she turned every head in the place when she arrived, till she whispered in my ear at the end of our meal.

"Do they have rooms here Jim?" She asked, and my prayers seemed answered.

It would be difficult to describe how wonderful that night was, but I'll try. I was no virgin by a long, long way, but it seemed that I had discovered one, a rare find in one so beautiful, already into her twenties. She was so nervous as I undressed her, as if I had been the first one to ever do so, shivering as I undid her dress and allowed it to drop to the floor, breathing in deeply and holding her breath, as I unclasped her bra and slipped it off her, and whispering "Oh God. Oh, my God," as I slid her tiny lace panties slowly down her long slim legs.

I rested her down back on the bed, determined that if it was to be her first time, then she would never forget it.

I caressed her naked body, marvelling at the softness of her supple young skin, and the firmness of her breasts. Smiling as Jenny snatched at my hands to stop me, then quickly withdrew them again, unsure of how to behave.

"No Jim, no," she murmured as my fingers toyed with the narrow, neatly trimmed strip of pubic hair that nestled at the top of her legs, but made no attempt to impede me, her thighs shaking uncontrollably as she lost the battle with herself to keep them tightly closed.

Jenny gasped with delight, as I slipped one finger down onto the wonderful warm folds of her vagina, clenching her teeth and grabbing tightly at my arm as it slid deliciously through into wet fleshy slit beyond.

Her breathing was heavy and rapid, her eyes closed, as my finger explored even further, running slowly up and then down her moist furrow, her body jerking almost out of control as I quite deliberately stroked and played with her swollen clitoris.

"Jim... Jim... please Jim," she whispered huskily, but the rest was lost, as a shudder ran through her lovely body, that could only have been one thing.

Her body relaxed, and she lay back, opening her eyes at last, looking up at me with an expression that said only one thing.

"I love you Jim... I really love you," my woman stuttered uncertainly. "I think I'm ready now.... Please be gentle."

I stood up, and started to undress, Jenny watching me, then blushing and turning away in embarrassment, as I slid my underpants hurriedly down.

Gently easing her legs a little wider, I knelt on the bed in between them, and leant forward, in no hurry, cupping her breasts, and kneading them firmly, enjoying the hardness of her erect nipples, jutting out from the softness of her silky flesh.

Jenny was staring up at me, a startled look in her eyes, like a kitten who had been surprised when at play, uncertain if it was in danger. Then her eyes dropped, nervously, looking slowly down my naked body, breathing in suddenly as if in fright, when she caught sight of my erect cock hovering just inches from her exposed pussy, her thighs closing up protectively, only my legs preventing them from doing so.

"Oh Jim. Are you sure?.... Will it be alright?.. Please don't hurt me."

I leant further forward, and kissed her gently on the lips.

"It'll be OK my love," I promised her. "I'll be gentle... It'll be OK."

At the first touch of the tip of my hard cock against the softness of her pussy, she shuddered, her legs clamping even more tightly against mine as her body instinctively fought to protect her sex from me.

Jenny arched her back and pushed at my arms, gripping them tightly as my cock slid slowly through the slippery folds, and rested at the entrance to her vagina, where I held it, savouring the moment, confident there was no going back.

"Yes Jim... Do it now...For God's sake do it now," she cried, and I saw a tear rolling down her cheek, as lust took over from her fear, and at last she willingly spread her legs open wide.

"Oh Jim it's wonderful... It's.... oooh... Oh my God... Oh Jim."

Her lovely body went taught, and shuddered under me, as I slid my cock slowly but deliberately through into the warm depths of her.

"Wait, hold it there," she called almost in panic, as I started to withdraw. "I beg you hold it there."

I did so and Jenny groaned, this time her turn to savour the moment, and then slowly started to grind herself carefully against me, her chest rapidly rising and falling as she panted for breath, getting used to me inside of her, whimpering with pleasure, as each small movement sparked off a new sensation inside her.

Slowly, carefully, I took back over control from her, withdrawing just a little, then pushing gently back in. Withdrawing just a little more, then returning to her depths, each stroke gradually gaining in length and vigour, till she took up the rhythm, matching my thrusts with her own movements, squealing in pleasure as I made love to her, and she returned it in full........

We lay silently in each other's arms, relishing one another's nakedness, both satisfied and contented.

"Thank you Jim," Jenny whispered into my chest, "Thank you my love."

I kissed her, and told her how much I loved her as well.

"I needed that Jim," she said after a few moments. " I've needed that for a long time, and I'm just so glad it was you."

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The second time that I followed Jenny was even easier. I knew the hotel where her meeting was scheduled, and I let Jenny get ahead, arriving half an hour or so after her, and wondering what the hell I was doing there, and quite what was I going to do.

I slunk into the reception area; terrified that she would spot me, having no idea what explanation I could possibly make for my being there. She wasn't there of course, why should she be, so I made my way to the bar, peeping in, already having decided that this was all so stupid, so c***dish, and that I would leave immediately if she wasn't there.

But Jenny was there, in the bar, chatting to some guy. She was sat with her back to me, but I knew it was her, and the man she was talking to looked American, much older than Jenny, maybe in his late fifties, expensively dressed, and impeccably groomed.

I felt the tension draining out of me, as I realised that he was exactly as he should be, a rich client of the agency, obviously some businessman that she was discussing some arrangements with.

I felt such a fool, cursing myself for suspecting that Jenny had been involved with some man, though I hadn't even allowed myself to admit to those thoughts till that moment.

What was I to do then?

I was still no nearer to the truth about the money, but at least my main fear had been allayed, and she wasn't having an affair. Maybe this guy was something to do with all the money she'd been hiding away, but I was no super sleuth, and had no way of progressing further.

Go home, I thought to myself. Just go home and stop being so silly. Another few hours wasted, driving up to London and back, just because of my stupid doubts.

Then Jenny stood up, and my stomach went tight. She looked fabulous and so sexy in a tight black mini dress that just skimmed below her bottom, leaving her long slim legs so bare, and moulding round her body so that even from across the room, I could see she couldn't possibly have been wearing a bra.

The tightness in my middle gripped tighter, but it wasn't how gorgeous my wife looked, but that I'd never seen that dress before, and it certainly wasn't the smart grey skirt suit that Jenny had left our house in, just a few hours before.

My chest went tight, but I told myself I was being silly again, unreasonable, why wouldn't she change for an evening meeting? Why shouldn't Jenny look sexy to impress an important customer?

Then she laughed at something he said, and smiled at him, our smile, the one that would light up the street outside. The smile that I always imagined she reserved for me. Worse, she reached up to him and put her hand on his chest, playfully, coquettishly, not the sort of gesture a woman would make to a business client, not unless she knew him well... Very well indeed!

The thought that it could be a friend of her father's flashed through my mind, an old family friend maybe, like an uncle. But I was clutching at straws, and when Jenny reached up, stretching on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek, my world started to go black. A dark rage come over me, only getting worse as he bent down and returned the kiss, but directly on her lips, the two of them holding it for longer than any Uncle and niece had a right to.

The prick. The bastard. The cheating fucking bastard. I'd kill him.

But I could only stand there and watch as Jenny played up even more to him, cuddling up to him as he put his arm affectionately around her, grinning at him, as she so often did to me, as he patted her bottom, moulding her gorgeous body into his, as he squeezed her tightly.

I couldn't breath. I needed air, but I couldn't leave. Couldn't pull myself away from the dreadful scene being played out before my eyes. They kissed again, this time with even more feeling, and Jenny, my beautiful sweet Jenny, seemed blissfully lost in the company of this unknown man.

"Can I help you sir?"

I looked round, and there was some uniformed flunky, questioning my right to be there. Questioning my right to watch my beloved wife make out with some bastard stranger.

"Fuck off!" I shouted, far too loudly.

It all got out of hand after that, and he called for help, three of them manhandling me out to the back entrance, as I watched Jenny going off with this stranger, laughing at his no doubt stupid bloody jokes, running her hand up and down his back, and making no objection as he reached down and cupped the cheeks of her arse, squeezing it, as if he owned it, his fingers curling round the bottom of her skimpy dress, and stroking the bare flesh at the very top of her thigh...

I found myself on the floor in a back alley, a few scratches on my face but no serious harm done. I made my way back to the front, and stormed back in, determined to confront her, to find out what was going on.

But the security guys caught me again, threw me out on my ear, threatening to be less gentle if I didn't bugger off, unwilling to listen to my pleas that my wife was in there with another man.

I slinked off, searching hopelessly up at the windows, wondering which set of curtains they were hidden behind, and the thought of what that bastard was doing to my Jenny, my dearest Jenny, tearing at my soul.

What hold did he have over her? Where did the money come into this?

Damn it!... Fuck it!.... The money didn't matter any more. My wife Jenny was in there somewhere being fucked by her lover, and I was powerless to stop it.

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After that last date, things went wonderfully. I felt like a teenager in love again, and it just never seemed to go away. Jenny seemed the same, and I met her parents, who seemed overjoyed that at last someone had won her heart.

We were married six months afterwards, the biggest wedding I'd ever been to, or ever likely to, all paid for by her wealthy parents, who seemed more interested in making a good show, than anything else.

I vaguely tried to find out if she had some troubled past experience, why she had apparently still been a virgin in her twenties in this day and age, but she didn't wish to discuss it, promising to tell me all about it one day, and we were so happy, so in love, that it didn't seem to matter anyway.

The first six months were bliss. Unless you worked for me of course, in which case it seemed that nobody could get much sense out of me. It didn't matter, as everyone was happy for me, even my competitors so touched that they didn't take too much advantage.

Like hell they didn't!

It came as a wake up call, when we lost a big account, and I had to put a lot more effort into my business, not that I neglected Jenny however. But she felt the difference I supposed. Lost a bit of her spirit, and acted a bit down.

"What's up Jenny love?" I asked for the tenth time, not really expecting a sensible answer.

She looked at me, sighed, and at last told me.

"I'm a bit bored," she admitted. "Not with you, not at all, your wonderful."

I smiled back at her, happy to hear her say it even though our lovemaking had waned considerably over the last few months.

"I need something to interest me. Keep my brain working. Maybe I could do a bit of work for my old agency."

She'd stopped working for them just after our marriage, and had seemed happy, but it was true that just lately there was obviously something missing in her life.

"Would they take you back? Have you asked them?" I ventured, thinking it might be a good idea.

Jenny smiled. It was that smile, and I knew her mind was made up, and that I had no argument, even if I thought of one.

"They've rung me every month since we were married. They're desperate for me to go back," she sung out. "I've sort of suggested that I might go back and do a bit, just part time."

It was settled. The following week she went back up to London to see them, and started a few days later, doing some afternoon meeting thing for them.

She came home that evening full of smiles, happy as Larry. She'd had a great day, and all was well again. The Mathews household was back on track.

I had nothing to complain about, as Jenny rediscovered her zest for life, and the energy for sex. Even more than before, though I wouldn't have thought it possible.

Jenny had always liked straightforward sex previously, which I put down to her lack of experience, shying nervously away from anything out of the ordinary. But from then on, she became liberated, totally, prepared to try anything, only sucking my cock still being off the menu, but often demanding that I eat her sweet little pussy, which she had never been keen on me doing before. It was surprising how naturally good at it all she was, and how much she loved it.

I had no idea why I deserved this unrivalled pleasure. I didn't worry about it, and I just enjoyed it. The next two years or so were incredible, the earlier problems having disappeared. We spent every possible spare moment together, and I pined when she was out for the evening, even more so when she was away for a whole weekend, in Paris, New York or where ever. But her job took her mainly down to London, and when ever I could, I tried to arrange something, so that I could meet her down there and have lunch, before she disappeared off for the evening to some function or other.

Then I found that Bank statement, and it all changed.

I couldn't believe she was cheating on me, but the evidence was there, I'd seen it, I'd seen her kissing and cuddling up to her boyfriend in the hotel. I'd seen his hand on her arse, his fingers disappearing up under the back of her short dress. Christ they were only an inch from her pussy, and there was no doubt in my mind that they had ended up inside it not much later on. The thought of that bought tears of frustrated rage to my eyes.

How could she do this?

How could she betray me like this?

What was so special about this American guy?

What did he have that I didn't, a bigger cock or what?

Dammit, he was twenty years older than me, thirty years older than her.

Maybe it was someone she worked with, but he looked well off, so perhaps it was her boss, and I seemed to remember her saying that one of the directors was an American. However close a working relationship, bosses aren't allowed those liberties, not unless there's something going on. My mind went in circles, till I felt like bursting into tears. Maybe this had been going on for some time. Maybe that's why she wanted to go back to work for them.

Maybe... Oh damn it. I didn't know what to think.

It was a Thursday, the morning after I'd been thrown out of the hotel, and I just couldn't take it any more. I'd heard Jenny's car arrive home in the early hours, and I wondered how many other times she had come home this late when she'd been with him, without me knowing, when I was fast asleep.

It was sometime before she came up to bed, and even in the gloom I could make out that she'd changed into her night gown already, maybe showered in the spare bedroom as well, maybe so that I wouldn't detect the smell of her lover on her, or find traces of his cum on her body in the morning.

I was livid, but determined to hold on till the morning. If I was going to throw her out, then tough on her, but if it was me to be walking out the door, then the early hours weren't too welcoming.

I still preyed that there'd be an explanation, and that in the morning she'd laugh about it, and tell me about the stupid prick trying to take advantage of her.

She snuggled up to my back, but I pretended to be asleep, refusing to be aroused from my slumbers, even though she cuddled up close, wrapped her arms around me, and kissed the back of my neck. Then she slid her hand around and took my limp cock in her hand, teasing it, to bring it alive, but even without me trying, it didn't respond, neither it, nor me being interested. I doubted whether we would ever be sleeping together again, never mind making love.

It was with some relief to me that she eventually gave up, probably to her as well.

She wouldn't have to pretend any more.

The next morning I was up and dressed long before her, but then I hadn't had such an energetic evening, as she had no doubt experienced.

"Hi sweetie," she called out as she breezed into the living room, her loveliness almost making me change my plans. "How are you this morning?"

I didn't reply, just sat there impassively my heart thumping, and she looked round at me, the cup in her hand crashing back to the table as it slipped from her hand.

"What on earth happened to you," she cried. Her concern could almost have been genuine, the two bruises that had been added to the cuts on my face the second time I'd been thrown out, were obviously a bit of a surprise.

Jenny made to run to my side, but I held my hand up to stop her. Maybe the look on my face had more to do with it.

"What's up Jim? What happened?" She demanded urgently.

"I got thrown out of a bar last night." I replied tersely.

I didn't get the response I expected, but I should have foreseen it.

"What? You? Thrown out of a bar," she squealed in her oh so English accent. "You stupid man you. What did you do get drunk or something?"

She looked at me and grinned, almost giggled as she imagined me, the pillar of respectability, getting thrown drunk out of some pub. " Hope it wasn't the Bull Jim, we're supposed to being going there tomorrow night."

The grin on her face died as she realised I wasn't smiling back. From now on I would begin to enjoy this little discussion, and in some small way, I would make her suffer for what she had done to me.

"What's up Jim?" She asked simply.

"Sit down," I instructed. "You may need to."

I waited a few moments, savouring the tension in her face. She knew something was up, but had no idea what. Now the shoe was on the other foot.

"It wasn't a pub I was thrown out of, it was a bar. A hotel bar."

Hotel bar? What hotel? One in Cambridge?" she asked, unable to understand where this conversation was going.

"Not Cambridge... London. The West End, sort of Knightsbridge way."

I noticed a quiver on her lips, no more than that, but mention of Knightsbridge shocked her. That's where she had spent the night.

"Which hotel?" She asked, but she had already dropped her gaze. I guess she knew what was coming.

"The Grand Central," I said calmly. "It's just off the square. Maybe you know it Jenny? ...Maybe you've been there?... Recently maybe?"

Jenny ran her hand across her brow, and then looked up, trying to force a smile to her face. She didn't know how much I knew. Christ, I didn't know how much I knew.

"Ok, so I was there last night. I was working," she whispered, and then spoke louder, more confidently. " Christ Jim you knew I was going there. I told you so. I always tell you where I am going.... What's this all about?"

"It's about who you were with," I answered, still calm outwardly, if not inside.

She looked straight at me, not sure what to say. "A client, just a client," Jenny said at last, but her voice wavered. I think she already knew she had lost.

"And do all your clients get to feel your arse?.... Do they all treat you as if they own you?... Do they all get kissed like they were your lover?... Do they all get to stick their bloody fingers up your fucking pussy," I threw at her, losing my calm completely.

Jenny looked at me, and her face dissolved, then she burst into tears.

I should have felt triumph, but all I felt was heartbreak, our heartbreak. I still loved her you see. I resisted the temptation to rush to her, cuddle her, and tell her it was all OK, to not worry about it. It was too late for that.

I waited, as there was no way that I was going to say the next words. What she said next could just make a difference.

After a while, she looked up, and whilst still sniffing back the tears, said, "I love you Jim." Then burst out crying again, the grief wracking through her whole body.

I again waited till she settled down. Again waited for her to speak first.

"What did you see Jim?" She asked timidly.

"I'll tell you what I saw you bitch. I saw you smile at him and kiss him. I saw you stroking his back, and him fondling your backside, which you didn't seem to object to. I saw the two of you going off arm in arm towards the stairs with his hand half way up the back of your dress. That's what I saw... I suppose you were off to his bedroom. Am I right?"

Jenny looked at me sadly, sadder than I could ever remember seeing her. She opened her mouth to deny but, but stopped, knowing it was a waste of time. Then she nodded her head, just enough to acknowledge my fears to be correct.

The look in her eyes was one of utter despair.

"I suppose you fucked one another. Fucked away all night, and then had the damn cheek to come back here all covered in his cum, smelling of him."

"That's not true," she wailed back. "I didn't come back like that. I showered before leaving the hotel. I'd never do that to you I promise."

I wasn't sure what her promises were worth any more, so I went on.

"Then why did you get changed in the other room? Why didn't you undress in our room like you normally would?"

"I didn't want to wake you. If you were sleeping, then I didn't want to wake you up." Her response was immediate, had the ring of truth, but hardly excused her.

"And why was that?" I asked at last. "Because you didn't want me to know how late you were back?"

"Maybe." Jenny whispered almost inaudibly, after some moments.

"And not for the first time I'll bet," I shot at her, her silence confirming my accusation.

"What do we do now then Jenny?" I asked after another long silence, the only noise her sniffling, as she tried to control her emotions. I wasn't enjoying this as much as I'd hoped I would.

"I don't know Jim. But I do love you, only you. You're the only one."

" Oh yes Jenny, I'm the only one you love, but you make love to some other guy behind my back. That's really convincing. I really believe that."

"It was just sex, we didn't make love, not love. It was just sex. Fun, exciting even, but just sex."

"And there's a difference?" I questioned her.

She nodded her head. "Yes there's a difference, a big difference. Please Jim, understand there's a big difference."

I was in no mood to understand the difference, and was finding it harder to control my anger.

"This lover of yours'," I continued. "Who is he? How long has this been going on?"

"He's not my lover, I've told you he's not. It's not what you think Jim honestly, there's absolutely nothing between us, please believe me it's...."

"Shut up you stupid fucking cow," I interrupted her. "Stop making it worse. Stop lying to me, do you think I'm bloody stupid or something. Tell me now, how long have you been fucking him? Is it weeks or months, or maybe years?"

"I only met him last night," said Jenny suddenly calm, though the tears still streamed down her cheeks. "I met him at the hotel. Probably only five or ten minutes before you spotted us."

"Oh yes! And I'm supposed to believe that am I? I suppose he bought you a glass of wine, and got you drunk. Took advantage of you, you poor little cow."

"No it wasn't like that at all Jim," was my beautiful virgin bride's whispered answer. "As I said I was working.... He paid me to have sex with him."

Jenny's Story

Hi, I suppose you must all think I'm awful and I can't blame you. It broke Jim's heart when I told him the guy in the hotel had paid me for sex, that I was a call-girl. I tried to tell him I wasn't, that I worked as an escort Girl, but who was I k**ding, not even myself anymore. He called me a cheap prostitute, and that really hurt me. Made me cry. Some how I can't stand the word prostitute, and I just can't think of myself as one. A silly little difference in words maybe, but it had always allowed me to live with myself.

And cheap? ...No I certainly wasn't cheap, not by any standards. My clients were all very rich, and they had to be to pay me, and the commission my agency, Golden Circle took. Top politicians, sportsmen, Captains of Industry as the press called them, all sorts, and from all over the world as well.

Like the other girls I had regulars, once a month maybe, and some of them I'd known for some years, a couple before I even met Jim, though I prayed to God that he'd never discover that fact. There were British, American, Canadian, French, all sorts, quite an international clientele. Mostly it was when they were visiting London, usually on business, but they often invited me away for the weekend, and before I married Jim, sometimes a week or more.

Golly, that always cost them a packet, several thousands, but I guess I gave them good value. When I was with them, I was their girl friend, their mistress, loving and attentive.

For my clients I must have been the perfect girl friend, available on demand by way of a simple telephone call, to do more or less anything they wanted, and not there when they didn't need me. I never spoiled it by taking money direct from them either. That went through Golden Circle, and they then paid my cut, but since I'd got married, direct into my secret bank account. I never even touched any of that money, I couldn't bring myself to do so, and it had long since been nothing to do with money anyway. That is except for my so-called monthly salary which was then transferred to my normal account to cover up what I was up to, and I made a point of letting Jim see that on a regular basis to make sure he suspected nothing.

Then he found that damn statement; the man I loved so completely and desperately found it, where I had hidden it overnight, and my world collapsed.

I cried for a week, and my eyes were red with my grief. Jim had stormed out of the house, and he was crying like a baby. I couldn't believe I could have hurt him so deeply. It was stupid to think I could get away with it forever, and I don't know what I must have been thinking. It had just become my way of life. I'd been doing 'escorting' when I met him, and though I'd stopped for over six months after we got married, it was like a d**g, and I drifted back into it. I could claim I was forced, but that is too easy, and I don't deserve easy any more, I've lost my right to that.

I had no idea were he'd gone, where he was living, and despite my calls, he refused to speak to me, or even listen to me. I was desperate, almost suicidal, and though I understood his hurt, I knew he loved me, or at least had, and couldn't understand how he could cut me off so abruptly like that. I cut myself from everyone, and didn't have a friend in the world. I realised how my life style had provided me with so many so called 'Friends', but none I could confide in, not one single one that I could cry my heart out to. There was one of course, but he wouldn't speak to me, and who could blame him.

I'd turned down several 'dates', and told them I wasn't well. I must have sounded terrible on the phone, so I guess they believed me, and anyway I was in no condition to entertain any men. To my shame, even then, I never thought about telling them I was finished with that way of life. I hope it was just because I never thought about it clearly.

After about ten days with no contact, even Sarah at his office politely turning down my requests to be put through to him, I decided to go there. By then I'd stopped crying all the time, and my eyes had recovered somewhat, but despite applying my make up, I still looked a mess. Though I am quite pretty, I know I'm not naturally an outstanding beauty like some girls are, but I've always been able to make the most of my appearance, and I'd had the best education that money could buy. I do have a good figure, and I knew how to stand, how to walk, and how to hold myself, as I'd been taught by the best in the world at my finishing school in Switzerland. I'd taught myself how to laugh at men's jokes, and how to talk to them on subjects they would be interested in. I knew I had a dazzling smile, but I'd been born with that.

I was used to heads turning when I walked into a room, and I adored it, almost came to expect it. But I didn't turn any heads that day, none at all.

"Christ Jenny, you look terrible," said Sarah when I presented myself at her desk. We had become quite friendly over the last few years, but she was normally the epitome of discretion, so my appearance must have really surprised her. "Sorry, Jim is not here."

"When will he be back," I asked, fighting to hold back another bout of crying.

Sarah looked at me pityingly, stood up, and took me gently by the arm.

"Come on," she said. "I'm due a break. Let's go and get a coffee somewhere."

Over coffee, actually I drink tea, she told me that Jim had seen my car pulling into the car park and had gone out through the back door, as I'd come in through the front. He'd told her we'd had a big bust up, but not why, which made me sigh with relief.

"He won't discuss it," she said. "He's in a terrible state. Do you want to tell me what it's about?"

"I can't," I replied. "But it's my fault, not his."

"That bad eh?" Sarah commented, with a knowing look.

"Worse than that," I replied. "Much worse."

"I think you need to find someone to talk to about this," she suggested. "Someone close to you, that you can trust."

It was good advice, but I had nobody. I was close to my parents, an only c***d, but how do you start a conversation like that? "I haven't mentioned it before Daddy, but I've been working as a prostitute since I left Oxford University, and my husband's just found out."

No, it just wasn't possible. I had nobody, and I'd have to work it out for myself.

But it didn't work out that way.

The agency kept ringing me, and eventually I had to admit what had happened. That my husband had found out.

"Oh dear!" They said, but that was about all. The last thing they wanted was to get involved in a marital argument.

Then a week later Rolf rang. Rolf was another of my American clients, nearly sixty, but in really good shape, a good lover, and I'd known him since before I'd met Jim.

We got on really well, and I suppose I did have some quite deep feelings for him, though nothing like I had for Jim. Anyway he was married, and once I'd even met his wife, though I was of course introduced as a junior business contact.

Rolf was one of only two of my 'dates' that I had ever given my telephone number to. I felt I could trust him.

"Sorry Rolf," I said when I heard his voice. " I'm not available at the moment. Might not be for some time."

"Golden Circle told me your bad news," he said back to me over the phone, and I burst into tears.

"You need someone to talk to, don't you," Rolf went on. "Let's meet somewhere. Maybe I can help."

" Oh Rolf, please no, don't ask me out. I'm in no state to give you what you want."

"Payback time," he said quietly. "Time I did something for you rather than the other way round. No messing around I promise. Meet me at the usual place..... No, not there. I'll come up to Cambridge. Where do you suggest?"

Five hours later, I was sat in front of Rolf, and he started to question me.

"Do you want him to come back?" He asked first, to which I replied that of course I did, but there seemed to be little chance.

"If not, then I would be more than happy to.... Well you know that Polly and me haven't been getting on so well for some time now, and I thought...."

I interrupted him, "Please Rolf, don't lead me down that path. I like you, OK, I love you in some way, but you're not Jim. Sorry but you're just not Jim."

Rolf nodded his head sadly.

" I expected that Jenny. Sorry but I had to ask. Had to get it out of the way."

I smiled at him. He was so sweet.

"Jim won't talk to me Rolf. He just won't talk to me. I don't know what to do. I don't understand how if he loved me, he could cut me off like that."

"And I don't think you've yet realised quite how much you have destroyed him, his whole world young lady." Rolf replied.

"But he just doesn't understand. It was just sex. Just something I need, the excitement, it's like a d**g and I don't seem to be able to exist without it. Going with a range of different men all the time. Not knowing who I'd be going to bed with from one week to another. I can't seem to explain it to anyone."

I poured my feelings out, explaining how even when I'd stopped after getting married, I'd ended up miserable after just six months or so, with only one lover, wonderful though he was, and as much as I was in love with him.

"Just sex was it?" Rolf asked.

"Yes there was never anything else, just sex."

"The way you smiled at me. The way you kissed me. The way you pleased me, just sex all the time was it?" Rolf asked.

He wasn't asking, he was querying whether I'd got my feelings right.

I thought about it. Remembered what it was like being with him. Remembered the feelings with which we had made love, yes made love, not had sex.

I was k**ding myself, and though it had so often been just sex with most of them, an adventure to take part in and forget, with Rolf, and a few others for that matter, it had been more than that. Far more.

"Do you remember how you reacted when you found out I'd gone with one of the other girls when you were on holiday Jenny," Rolf demanded gently, reminding me of how angry I had been. How I had shouted and screamed at him, sulked for a couple of weeks. Even been sharp with poor Jim who was so blameless.

"Can you imagine how Jim must feel now.?... Can you imagine how much worse it must be for him?"

I looked up at Rolf, and it came flooding in, the realisation of quite what I'd done to Jim. Quite how unspeakably awful I had been.

I started crying, but this time I wasn't crying for myself. I was crying for him, my husband, my love, and I cried like I'd never cried in my life before.

I was heartbroken, that I'd broken his heart.

Rolf took me gently in his arms, and rocked me tenderly, whilst I cried like a baby as he held me.

"I can't imagine what I can do, but I'll try," he whispered to me. "I just hope he thinks as much of you as I do."

I'd do anything, absolutely anything to have just a glimmer of a chance to win Jim back. I'd fight against my need to go with other men, and I preyed to God that I could be strong enough to resist it, to have the willpower to say no, I'm not going to do that anymore.

And I'd start straight away. Yes I would, straight away.

I'd tell Rolf to stop undoing the buttons of my blouse.

I will I'm determined I will.... I'll tell him to stop immediately.... Right now!... I mean it, right now.....Right now....I'll tell him to stop....

*

I wonder what happened next?