Corporate Bodies - Pt 03 - Reality free porn video

Chapter Ten

The hour after Andy led me out of the room and into the waiting crowd passed in something of a daze.

The study door closed behind us with a clunk, leaving Amanda alone to deal with the messy physical aftermath of her unexpected copulation. The emotional aftermath would have to wait. As Andy and I passed into the main room, the expectant guests turned to greet me.

Then, with a short speech and much backslapping, my promotion to Junior Partner was announced.

Had my head been in the right place, I would have enjoyed the many and sincere congratulations that came my way. But it wasn’t. Stunned by all I had just witnessed all I could do was smile dumbly and try to feel the goodwill around me.

A glass of champagne was thrust into my hand. I downed it almost in one. It was immediately replaced and as I sipped the second more slowly, I noticed my wife slipping out of the study door and trying discreetly to make her way around the crowd to the ladies’ room. She was unsuccessful in this, the eager wives of other partners drawing her reluctantly into the crowd where more champagne was thrust upon the pair of us.

Amanda looked very uncomfortable indeed, though she had fixed her make-up almost perfectly and was playing the happy, supportive wife as well as her traumatised body and newly unfaithful mindset would allow. Only I could see the pain and sadness in her eyes, especially when her warmly congratulating female friends told her over and over again how lucky she was to have a confident and successful man like me for a husband.

The expression on her face when her eyes caught mine was enough to prevent me being anything but humble.

Eventually, I had to escort her to the ladies’ room myself before being drawn into the celebrations once again. She remained there for a long time before emerging. Twice more in the next hour, I saw her head to the ladies' again but at the time, didn’t grasp the significance.

It was after midnight when we drove home together. Amanda sat silently in the front passenger seat for almost the entire journey, her body language making it clear that conversation with me was unwanted. We were nearly home before I could contain myself no longer and spoke hesitantly to the huddled form in the seat alongside me, staring through the passenger window and into the darkness of the night.

“Are you okay?” I ventured.

It was a pathetic start, but at least the ice was broken.

“How the hell do you think I am?” Amanda snapped. It was uncharacteristically aggressive, but I deserved it.

“I... I’m not sure,” I stammered.

The response was immediate and shocked me.

“You just watched your boss fuck your wife to save you from jail, and you’re not sure if she’s okay?”

She was hissing with a passion I had never seen before. I had hardly ever heard her use the ‘f’ word, let alone with such venom.

“Amanda I...” I began but she cut me off.

“And I’ve got to let him fuck me every week for God knows how long until you’ve paid back all that money! You’ve just turned your wife into a whore, and that’s all you can say is ‘I’m not sure’?”

“I’m so sorry. I’m really, really sorry. I just don’t know how to say it.”

“So it seems!” her voice was quieter now but hard and controlled.

There was a long pause. I didn’t dare speak; anything I might say would almost certainly be wrong.

“Still, you’re the Big Man now, you’re the Junior Partner,” Amanda eventually said bitterly. “Did you enjoy all the congratulations and back-slapping?”

“How could I have done anything else?” I protested, trying weakly to defend myself.

She ignored me completely, staring me angrily ahead as her voice became even colder.

“You just stood there drinking champagne while I had to try and stop your boss’s semen trickling down the back of my legs. In front of everyone!”

Oh my God! Of course, all those times had she tried to escape to the ladies’ room!

Christ! Andy must have left one hell of a lot of cum inside her.

“I’m so, so sorry,” I repeated, trying hard to keep the car straight on the road. “I don’t know what else I can say. “

“It doesn’t seem to have crossed your mind that he didn’t use any protection and I’m not on the pill!”

“Jesus, Amanda!” I gasped.

She was right. In all the excitement and humiliation, it really hadn’t occurred to me. But it was true; after my vasectomy, we hadn’t had to think about birth control at all. Andy had fucked Amanda bareback and cum copiously in her entirely unprotected body.

“Think about it now, ‘Junior Partner’!” she hissed angrily. “Do you like the idea of your wife getting knocked up by your boss?”

We travelled in silence for a few minutes, my mind spinning. On top of all I had just seen, could she really be pregnant too?

“It’s not my fertile time,” she said eventually, calming down a little. “I’ll get the morning-after tablets first thing tomorrow, and go back on the pill properly next week, okay?”

“Thank you,” was all I could manage to say.

There was another pause followed by a long sigh.

“It looks like I’m going to need birth control for a long time now, doesn’t it?”

Her words, though justified, hurt badly. But I breathed a silent sigh of relief as we drove home in silence, the air in the car pungent with the smell of recent sex.

Once home, Amanda immediately took herself upstairs. A minute later I heard the shower running. I made fresh coffee in the kitchen then carried two mugs upstairs along with two large brandies. As I entered our bedroom, my wife had just come out of the shower and had a large white bath towel wrapped around her lovely slim body.

“Do you feel any better now?” I asked, offering her the tray.

She chose the brandy, drank it down in one gulp then grimaced.

“I feel cleaner,” she replied, sitting on the bed. “On the outside at least.” She shrugged. “I guess this is something I’ll have to get used to.”

“You have every right to feel angry,” I said, ashamed.

After taking off my jacket and tie, I sat close by her on the mattress. She smelled fresh and clean, but her face and chest were still flushed from her recent orgasms.

“I think I deserve the whole truth now, don’t you?” she asked quietly but firmly. “Absolutely everything.”

She was right and I knew it. In truth, it was a relief to get it all off my chest; to confide in her all the stratagems and subterfuges I had used. Andy’s investigations had been very thorough indeed, but even he hadn’t uncovered all of my illegal efforts.

For the next hour, we went through all I had done in detail, over and over again. This time I was completely open about how I had deliberately defrauded the company to give us the lifestyle we wanted for ourselves and our kids.

I tried to explain that there really had been a plan to repay the money – at least at first – but that it had all got out of hand, and now even those good intentions had been thwarted by being discovered.

Amanda’s incisive mind asked all the difficult questions I had dreaded. All I could do was answer honestly and directly. When I had finished, she could not believe I had been so stupid and now, of course, neither could I.

“You could still pull out of the deal,” I told her when she had asked all she wanted. “It might not end in jail.”

“Jail or no jail, it would mean bankruptcy,” she replied. “How could we live then? Everything would change. Think of the damage it would do to the kids if it got round that their father was a crook. No, there’s no way out of this apart from Andy’s deal.”

I hung my head in shame.

“Besides,” she added with resignation. “The damage is already done! I’m a whore now, aren’t I? I’ve been fucked for money. Have you thought how you’re going to feel about that because I have no idea how I’ll live with it!”

I reached across and held her hand. Her body tensed at first, then relaxed a little.

“You’re a wonderful wife and mother who cares about her family.” I insisted, very much aware that it was my actions that had put her in this invidious position. “What you were prepared to do for us is beyond belief!”

“What you did was beyond belief too,” she hissed.

“I know. I’m so, so sorry. I’d do anything to put it right.”

“He doesn’t want you, though. He wants me!”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“For Christ’s sake, stop saying you’re sorry. I know you’re sorry. I’m sorry! We’re all sorry!”

There was a pause. I tried to hold her hand, but she bunched them both into fists.

“What if it changes things between us?” she eventually asked. “What if you can’t bear to live with a whore? How will you feel when I come home afterwards, and you know what I’ve been doing? What if you can see the signs on my body? He’s going to fuck me every week for what could be years, remember that!”

“I swear, Amanda, I will never leave you or think less of you for doing this. If you’ll stick with me, I’ll stick with you, no matter what happens.”

“You swear?”

“I swear!”

I took her in my arms and hugged her as closely as she would let me. The towel fell away, and I could see her orgasm-flushed chest clearly. My heart and loins ached.

“They say Andy always keeps his promises,” I said in a vain attempt to comfort her.

“I guess we’re going to find out,” she replied quietly.

Chapter Eleven

Hours later, I lay awake, watching the clock on the dresser, counting away the night hours. Beside me, Amanda slept fitfully, exhausted but troubled.

What had I done to her and to my family? Had I really turned my wife into a whore? Had I really made myself a cuckold too?

Could our marriage possibly survive this onslaught?

My mind tormented me with vivid images of all I had seen that night; of my wife’s first-ever infidelity; of the look of shock on her face as for the first time in her life, another man’s erect penis entered her body. Of the extraordinarily conflicted feelings that flashed through me as I had watched myself both being cuckolded and saved from jail at the same time.

But the images that simply would not go away were those of my sweet, intelligent wife and the mother of our two children reaching orgasm after orgasm on another man’s cock in a way she had seldom if ever achieved on mine.

“Are you awake?” Amanda’s voice was soft and slightly dreamy.

“I can’t sleep,” I replied. “Can you?”

“Not really,” she replied. “I’m too mixed up, too confused.”

She sounded it too. In the stillness of the night, her entirely justified anger of earlier had completely gone, replaced by a wounded, insecure vulnerability that was as unfamiliar as the anger had been.

“I’m sure you are. I’m so sorry this has all fallen on you. If I’d known...” I began, but then stopped.

It had all been said already. Silence descended for a while then, just as I thought she had fallen asleep again, she spoke.

“How did you feel, watching me?” she asked in a low, quiet voice.

“What?”

“Did you enjoy watching me being fucked?”

“Of course not!”

Part of me was stunned by her continued free use of the ‘f’ word; something that had never happened before in all our relationship. My reply was automatic, but as the words left my mouth, I knew they weren’t true.

What was more, I was sure Amanda knew it too. My bright, intelligent wife knew that beneath the horror of watching her being fucked to orgasm by another man, I had found the whole thing incredibly, unbearably, almost frighteningly arousing.

This disturbed me more than I could understand; certainly, more than I could tell her.

“You didn’t even try to stop it happening. You just stood and watched him do it to me,” her voice was still soft, but the accusation was clear.

“I know. I don’t know what came over me,” I told her honestly. “At first it was shock, I guess. Then perhaps it was fear of breaking the deal before it had even started.”

“There was more to it than that,” she insisted. “The look on your face when he… when I…”

Her voice faded to silence. I gulped nervously, knowing only too well what she meant, but unable to say the words aloud. I could barely admit them to myself. To my shame, I tried to deflect some of the blame back onto my wife.

“Maybe I should have felt differently,” I replied nervously. “But we had both agreed it should happen, and once it had started; once he was actually inside you, it looked like you were really enjoying it. It didn’t look like you wanted me to stop it.”

Amanda shuddered visibly. I expected her to scream at me again but instead, she fell silent for a full minute.

“Was it that obvious?” she eventually asked.

I almost choked in shock.

“What?” I said once again, sitting up in surprise. “You mean…”

She nodded, her eyes unable to meet mine. There was a long pause. My heart was thumping in my chest as the terrible words came out of her sweet mouth.

“I did enjoy it. I didn’t want to; I thought I would hate it as much as I hated him. I didn’t want him to even touch me, let alone fuck me, but one he had started…”

“You just couldn’t help yourself?” I suggested.

I felt rather than heard her nod her head alongside me.

“I wondered whether that was it,” I continued. “I’ve never seen you cum as hard as that in your whole life! Not once in all our years of lovemaking have you come anywhere near the orgasms Andy gave you!”

“It’s true. I’ve never felt like that before.”

“And at the end, when he came, you wanted that inside you too, didn’t you?”

There was another movement, which I took for a nod.

“You were reaching out for him, pulling him into you, wrapping your legs around him...”

I felt her shoulders move again, and realised she was crying in the darkness.

“Darling,” I whispered, holding her stiff body tightly.

“Are you disgusted with me now?” she sobbed.

“Why would you think that?” I asked, stunned.

There was a long pause.

“Because I’m disgusted with myself.”

I had not been expecting this. Anger, yes. Resentment and accusations; of course, but self-disgust?

“That’s ridiculous,” I insisted sincerely. “You could never disgust me. Never. You did what you had to do. We agreed, there wasn’t a choice, was there?”

“But I should have hated it,” her voice was getting louder and more emotional. “It’s bad enough being fucked at all; I shouldn’t have let it happen like that. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to enjoy it so much.

“I feel dirty, I feel soiled, disgusted. I feel ashamed.”

She continued to sob. I squeezed her tighter.

“Amanda, look at me. It’s good that you enjoyed it. I’m pleased you got so much pleasure, “I whispered, though it was an outrageous lie. “It would have been far worse if you’d hated it, wouldn’t it? You mustn’t feel guilty. I’m the guilty one here.”

“Do you really mean it?” she asked through her tears. “You still feel the same about me?”

“Of course, I do.”

It was a lie. No man’s feelings could possibly remain unchanged after all that had happened, especially if he was responsible for the whole sorry thing.

She cried a while longer, her chest rising and falling under the duvet.

“Will you make love to me?” she eventually asked.

“You really want me to?” I asked, surprised.

“I need to believe you still love me,” Amanda replied, her deep blue eyes full of pain. “Even though I’m soiled now.”

“I will always love you, no matter what you have to do. I swear it,” I insisted, this time with more conviction. It was nothing but the truth, after all.

“Then will you? Please?”

In reply, I rolled over and gently mounted her battered body, raising her nightdress to her waist. Her long legs parted for me and a moment later I was positioned at her entrance, ready to penetrate her recently violated vagina.

Even in the darkness I could see how puffy and distended her outer lips had become, how raw and open her slit still was and the dark hole of her gaping entrance.

“Are you sure you want this?” I asked.

“I need to feel you inside me,” she replied. “I need to know we’re still... still us!”

I gently pressed myself forward, my very-erect cock parting her inner lips. She gasped and wriggled her hips. I pressed forwards again, opening her entrance and smoothly penetrating her well-used vagina.

Amanda winced as I entered her, the discomfort clearly greater than she had expected. I backed off immediately, but she pulled me towards her again.

“It’s okay,” she whispered.

“But it’s hurting you...”

“Please. I need you!”

Slowly and carefully, I pressed my hips forward, driving my erect cock deeper and deeper into my wife’s vagina. There was no hint of resistance; I slipped full-length into her in a single smooth thrust. As I bottomed out inside her, my pubic hair ground against her mound.

Amanda winced again and bit her lower lip hard as my erection found its place within her body.

“Sore?” I asked. She nodded.

The pain was clearly visible in those deep blue eyes, but there was something else there too; something new and for both of us, entirely unexpected.

What in God’s name had he done to her? Amanda and I had enjoyed passionate, energetic sex many times, but I had never left her as raw or open as this. Her usual tightness was completely gone, her dark cavern loose and slippery around my shaft.

My head span as, for the first time in my life, I tasted the bittersweet pleasure of sloppy seconds.

The vagina in which my cock now lay, and which until that night had known only my erect cock, had only hours before been fucked hard by another, much larger, much more effective tool. Worse, another man’s semen pervaded the strong-smelling juices which even now surrounded my rock-hard shaft and swollen head.

I knew some men fantasised about becoming a cuckold; of letting or even watching their wives have sex, make love or be fucked by other men.

I was not one of them.

My contempt for Mike when I learned he had actively brought about his wife Yvonne’s infidelity with Andy, had been absolute. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined anything like this could happen to me; to us.

Never had I imagined that before my horrified eyes, I would become a cuckold myself, helplessly watching my wife’s fidelity being torn from her, then eagerly taking whatever leftovers her lover chose to leave.

And yet there I was. There we were. The deed had been done and could not now be undone. My heart ached and my stomach churned as images of the night’s terrible ordeal flashed through my mind.

The shame weighed heavily on me, the emotional pain was almost unbearable, but despite this, there was no denying the extraordinarily arousing sensations that were flowing through me, radiating outward from my groin.

“Be gentle, please!”

I was as loving and as gentle as a husband could be with a wife he had just watched being fucked by another man. My natural male instinct was to fuck her hard and violently, to reclaim the woman that had been taken from me, to reassert my position as Alpha Male in the household.

But it would have been entirely the wrong thing. Fighting hard against those feral passions, I thrust myself as calmly and rhythmically as I could, in and out of my wife’s semen-smooth, gaping vagina. She was too open and too wet to provide the tight stimulation I would normally enjoy, but my arousal was as high as it had ever been, and after less than three minutes of slow, smooth strokes, I added my own spermless semen to the remains of Andy’s cum that must still have been inside her vagina, if not her womb.

“You didn’t cum,” I said as I withdrew from her body and rolled alongside her.

“It’s okay,” she said.

But I could tell it wasn’t okay at all. After the orgasms Andy had delivered, I wondered whether she would ever cum with me again.

Moments later I heard another soft sob.

“Amanda,” I urged her. “Talk to me! Please! You know you can tell me anything! Anything that will make you feel better! Tell me how much better he was in bed if it would help! I could see it was good for you!”

“That’s just the problem,” she finally said, gazing up into the darkness and taking a deep breath. “It wasn’t just good; it was unbelievably good. It was like nothing I’ve ever experienced before!”

Her eyes were wide open now, staring blindly into the darkness.

“Perhaps that was because it was new; because you had only ever done it with me before,” I suggested.

“Maybe,” she replied anxiously. “But whatever the reason, it was by far the best sex I’ve had in my whole life. I never dreamed sex could be that good! Never! He made me feel... Oh my God! ... like nothing I’ve ever felt before!”

My mind was spinning now. What had my loving, lovely, previously innocent wife just told me?

But she hadn’t finished.

“Can’t you see? I’m ruined now! I never expected to feel this way with anyone! I never knew I could feel this way at all! If that’s what having sex with Andy feels like, I’m not sure I can ever turn my back on it. Part of me wants it even now! Part of me needs it badly! Part of me wants him to fuck me again and again!”

“Oh my God, Amanda! What are you saying?”

She looked me full in the face, her deep blue eyes glowing in the darkness like I had never seen before.

“Amanda!” I exclaimed, astonished. “My sweet Amanda…”

“That’s just the point,” she interrupted. “I’m not just your sweet Amanda anymore. After tonight, part of me has changed, maybe forever. Can’t you see that?

“You mean…”

“I mean part of me isn’t dreading seeing him next week. Part of me is looking forward to it!”

“Amanda!”

“It’s true,” she started into my eyes. “Right now, part of me actually wants to be Andy’s whore!”

Chapter Twelve

I woke later than usual the next morning after a few hours of troubled sleep. It took a moment or two for the reality of our new situation to rush in on me. The bed next to me was empty and I could hear the shower running close by. My wife must be ridding herself of the last remnants of evidence of her infidelity and the messy copulation with me that had followed last night.

Last night!

Was it really only hours ago that I had set off for the party, full of excitement and expectation, my sweet, innocent, beautiful wife at my side? The night had brought so many changes, it was impossible to know or even guess what might happen next.

I lay on my back and tried to gather my thoughts.

On the positive side, after years of hard work and careful planning, I was definitely now a Junior Partner in the firm. It had been formally announced and would be very hard for Andy to back out of. Ahead of me lay a considerably higher salary, a huge year-end bonus, car, holiday, pension, and of course the social and professional status that went with it.

What was more, the ‘unofficial loans’ I had awarded myself over the past years could be paid back over time and the threat of being jailed for fraud was, for the moment, lifted.

Of course, it meant I had to back Andy’s position with the Board on the major takeover events that were planned for the coming years, but I would probably have supported him anyway just out of loyalty.

But there was a downside to this ‘deal with the devil’ that was hard just to think about; let alone accept.

Few husbands could be happy with the idea of their wives sleeping with another man at all, let alone on a regular basis. But as if that wasn’t bad enough, Andy and his extraordinary cock had apparently done such a comprehensive job of fucking my wife that she had reached heights of orgasm more extreme than she had ever dreamed existed and had never come close to achieving before.

And I had watched it all happening right in front of me.

Amanda’s confession in the small hours that having experienced such incredible sex once, she was now worried she wouldn’t be able to live without it would be difficult for any man to hear, harder still for the husband of a bright, intelligent, stunningly attractive woman who had up till then known only one lover.

The sound of the shower in the bathroom came to an end. I shook my head to clear the remaining fuzziness as the en-suite door opened and Amanda entered the room looking sweet and innocent with fresh white towels wrapped around her slim body and wet hair. She looked tired too, but otherwise there was little to indicate the momentous change that had occurred in our relationship.

“Oh! You’re awake,” she said.

Her tone of voice wasn’t exactly affectionate, but it wasn’t angry either. It reassured me, though I didn’t deserve it. I looked at her closely, seeking signs of the emotional turmoil that had so surprised me in the night. But there was none; she was moving and talking with her usual confidence, a confidence that belied the tearful self-doubt and self-disgust that had wracked her during the night.

“How are you feeling now?” I asked, pulling off the duvet and perching on the edge of the mattress.

“Sore and confused,” she admitted with a frown. “But getting better. I’ve been for a run. It’s amazing how the fresh air helps give a clearer perspective.”

“Is that perspective good?” I asked apprehensively.

“I’m not sure. I learned a lot last night; a lot of it about you. I didn’t like some of it at all.”

I hung my head. If our marriage wasn’t over, it had to be damaged at the very least. In many ways, I knew I deserved to be abandoned to my fate, but my wife’s next words suggested this wasn’t what she had in mind.

“But to be honest, I learned a lot about myself too, and I didn’t like some of that either.”

“Do you think we can get through this?” I asked, hoping against hope that her co-operation with Andy meant that she still cared enough for us to stay together. “Do you still want to?”

“I’ve thought about it a lot,”” she replied.

“And come to a decision?”

She sighed deeply.

“I don’t see that I have much choice. I can’t face losing everything we’ve built together, even if it wasn’t honest. And there’s the kids too, I can’t let them get hurt. But it won’t be easy.”

“That’s a serious understatement,” I snorted.

“It won’t be easy for either of us,” she said coldly. “I can’t ever again be the person I was before last night, physically or emotionally. And I won’t be able to think of you the way I used to...”

Oh God! My heart began to sink as I waited for her to finish.

“But the only chance we have of getting through this is if we face it together.”

The relief was palpable.

“I’m so, so pleased you said that,” I replied, relieved beyond description.

I hugged her and kissed her on the forehead, holding her damp, near-naked body tightly in my arms as if she might change her mind and try to escape. She didn’t relax into my embrace, but she didn’t fight it either.

“You’re an incredible person, Amanda.”

“I just hope that I’m right!” she said when I eventually released her from my grip.

“I’ll do anything! Anything you want!” I promised.

She smiled at me wanly, dropped the towel from her naked body and reached into her dresser for underwear. As she turned, I saw her vulva with its golden triangle and my chest went tight. Her outer lips were still very red and puffy, her labia still distended. Andy’s fucking must have been extraordinary.

To my surprise and shame, a thrill passed through me as I stared at the evidence between her thighs.

To my horror, my cock began to harden too.

As she fastened on her bra and began to pull on her tightest jeans, I slipped into the bathroom before my wife could see the shameful swelling in my sleep shorts.

*

An hour later, shaved, showered and breakfasted, in a nearby town where no-one would recognize us, I sat in the car while Amanda sneaked into a small pharmacy. She emerged twenty minutes later with two courses of the morning-after pill, one dose of which she took immediately.

Having dropped off her new designer dress at a backstreet dry cleaner to have the marks from her post-coital semen leaks removed, we headed off to the grandparents’ house to collect our two young children.

Thank goodness for kids!

We had promised them a trip to a local science park that Saturday and a promise like that to children cannot be broken, however bad their parents are feeling. Over breakfast, we had been dreading the trip after all that had happened, but in truth it was a real boon. Faced with two excited youngsters, two doting grandparents and a lot of really interesting exhibits, we were too occupied with our immediate surroundings to dwell on our problems and to my astonishment, the day flew by very pleasantly.

We ate an early dinner at the grandparents’ house too, so it wasn’t until later that evening when we were back home with the kids tucked up in bed that the house fell silent and the strange new atmosphere returned.

“Are you okay?” I asked for the umpteenth time that day.

We were sitting in the lounge in front of the TV. I for one had no idea what programme was playing, too lost in my own thoughts.

“Ye-es,” Amanda replied, the answer obviously being ‘no’.

“Are you having second thoughts?”

“Well, I’m not looking forward to Wednesday, if that’s what you mean!” she said.

“You might enjoy it as much as the first time,” I said bitterly.

“It’s not that,” she replied, oddly detached. “However good or bad it feels, that part’s just physical.”

It was going to feel good and we both knew it.

“I’m really worried about the strain it will put on our marriage,” she explained. “I’m worried how you’ll react knowing I’m sleeping with your boss every week. I’m worried how you’ll feel and how you might change.”

I already had a good idea how I might feel, but shame prevented me from telling her.

“And I don’t know how I’ll feel having a regular lover, if that’s the right word.” She laughed hollowly. “Though there won’t be any actual love involved, however good he is in bed.”

The same thoughts had occurred to me too, but I had not gone beyond the guilt, shame and worry stage. Having seen her reaching new heights of orgasm with Andy, it was impossible not to worry that my wife might quickly become disillusioned with my own amorous efforts.

“I don’t want to go through all this, just to have our marriage break up anyway.”

“What can we do?” I asked helplessly. “Everything you say is true, but we only have one way out. If I’m in jail, what would that do to our marriage?”

“I know. I can’t see any way of avoiding sleeping with him either,” Amanda replied. “But we might be able to limit the damage it does.”

“How?” I asked, looking into her deep blue eyes eagerly. “You have an idea?”

“It all depends whether I can do for myself what I would advise other people to do,” she replied enigmatically.

“Tell me, please,” I asked, desperate for anything that might keep my lovely wife mine.

“Well in psychology, there’s something called dissociation,” she began, immediately more comfortable when talking about her undeniable area of expertise. “It can mean a number of things, but in this case, it would mean trying to separate the things I’m going to have to do with Andy from the relationship I have with you and the kids.”

I was very sceptical about this psychological mumbo jumbo but could see that my wife was convinced - and she was probably the cleverest person I knew.

Not probably, I corrected myself; definitely!

“Go on,” I said, trying not to let my doubts show.

Amanda explained her idea in baffling detail. Cutting through the reams of jargon, her plan was to build on Mandy – the highly sexual alter ego that had unexpectedly emerged during the extreme heights of her orgasms with Andy.

She would try to convince herself that all the unwanted but unavoidable sexual activity was happening to Mandy the whore, and not to Amanda the wife and mother.

It would be Mandy visiting Andy every week for their appointments, not Amanda. It would be Mandy being fucked hard every Wednesday afternoon. Mandy could do anything he demanded of her, and enjoy it too, as had happened in Andy’s office.

Afterwards, Mandy the whore would simply disappear, letting my sweet, untarnished wife Amanda resume her home life with me and our kids.

“It sounds a bit unlikely,” I said doubtfully. “Can you really separate the two personalities so clearly? I’m not sure I could.”

“Well, you’re going to have to!” she snapped. “It won’t work unless you do it too. Unless you treat Amanda exactly the way you always have, and let Mandy be Andy’s whore, then the strain on me and on our marriage will be intolerable.”

“What makes you think it will work? It’s a lot to ask from both of us!”

“I’m a Psychology graduate, remember?” she said impatiently. “If we can both keep Amanda and Mandy compartmentalized; really keep separate in our minds, then we might just have a chance of keeping Andy from destroying our relationship.”

I felt unconvinced and must have looked it.

“From what I saw, when Andy was fucking you, it was the most important thing in your entire universe. I’ve never seen you cum so hard before. You won’t easily put all that out of your mind just because we call you a different name!”

“Please,” she begged. “Don’t talk about it like that. I know what happened to me. I know what I said and what I did, and to be honest it really scares me! I didn’t know I could feel like that, or cum like that, or lose control like that either. I’m still trying to come to terms with the whole thing, understand? That’s why I need Mandy!”

I stared at her face, flushed pink from the memory of what Andy and she had done.

“I’m trying to keep our marriage and our family intact,” she growled, suppressing her anger to avoid waking the kids. “You don’t have a choice. You’ve got to help me do it! Don’t tell me it won’t work; it’s got to work!”

“I’m sorry,” I said, ashamed. “I know you want the best for us; believe me, so do I.”

“So, you’ll try?”

“Amanda, if it’s what you want, of course I’ll try. I’ll do anything at all to get us through all this!”

There was a pause in which she seemed to be carefully assessing both me and my words.

“You must promise me solemnly that you will never ask me what happened when I see Andy,” she eventually said slowly and precisely. “It’s fundamental. If Amanda doesn’t go to his apartment, then she can’t know what goes on there. Only Mandy will know, and we’ll try and make sure you see as little of her as possible. Can you do this? Can you promise?”

I thought for a moment. It sounded weird. I couldn’t see how she could possibly keep the two entities separate in her mind; after all, it would be the same body being fucked…

But, if it really was what she wanted, what choice did I have? After all, it was my fault we were in this situation and it was my future as well as hers she was rescuing.

“Of course!” I replied, hoping the doubt wouldn’t show in my face. “I’ll do anything to make it easier for you. For us both.”

“And above all, you must never, ever try and see what goes on. I just couldn’t bear it if you saw me... saw her again.”

“I promise, I swear!”

She smiled. It was the right answer.

Later that evening we made love. For me, it was simply beautiful.

Amanda didn’t reach orgasm, but she assured me she had enjoyed it and happily, she looked as if she had.

Chapter Thirteen

Monday passed almost as if nothing had happened. We woke the kids, got ready for school and work then went off to our separate schedules. In my case the day was dominated by the changes my new promotion had brought about; a new office, more staff, a Board meeting in which Andy smiled contentedly at me though to be fair in every other way he behaved exactly as he had been the previous week. There was nothing in his demeanour to suggest he had conquered my wife and now had such a hold over me.

After work things were, as usual, hectic with after-school activities and dinner so it was only late in the evening when I noticed something different.

I was putting my toothbrush away before joining my wife in bed when I noticed an opened pack of birth control pills in the bathroom cabinet. My heart stopped and as the implications rushed in on me, the butterflies returned to my tummy again.

As I climbed under the duvet alongside Amanda I whispered:

“You’ve gone on the pill…” I began but she cut me short.

“Shhh! They’re Mandy’s, okay?”

I understood. Mandy didn’t answer questions, so I had better not ask them.

It was Mandy, Andy’s whore who was preparing her body to receive regular and copious amounts of his sperm-filled semen, not my lovely wife Amanda. It was Mandy who had to worry about getting pregnant. I had to understand that and live with that.

Not surprisingly I had difficulty getting to sleep.

*

Tuesday passed uneventfully too. My new role at work was going to be even more demanding and time-consuming than my previous one, and for less reward too, I thought morosely as I set up the transfers from our bank accounts to start the process of returning the ‘borrowed’ money.

Fortunately, I had little time to think of these things because the new EU deal was starting in earnest and as its new Guiding Partner, I had a lot of work to do. The contract was by no means won, and there were a lot of negotiations to manage over the next six months, not least with the Turkish government. I could see my work cut out for me for a long time ahead but was confident I was up to the task and, thank God, it did help take my mind away from our new and unwanted domestic situation.

Amanda taught in school all day on Tuesdays, and the kids had yet another after school activity on the run-up to Christmas, so as we lay side by side in bed that evening, I had almost forgotten the fate that awaited her the following afternoon.

My wife clearly hadn’t forgotten and insisted on going over with me the logistical arrangements for picking up the kids and what to do with them during her appointment.

It seemed that the new rules allowed us to discuss preparations for her absence, but nothing about what Mandy would be doing while Amanda was away.

I was learning the new rules fast, but in case I ever forgot our fate, the slowly decreasing number of birth control pills in the pack in our bathroom served as a powerful reminder.

*

The first fateful Wednesday dawned bright and fresh, with no ominous storm clouds or drizzling rain to suggest the importance of the day’s planned events. I awoke after a restless night to find Amanda already sipping tea.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

“Apprehensive,” she replied. “I’m just glad I’ve got a busy morning at school and lots to do with my thesis to keep my mind off it.”

“I bet. I’ll pick you up at three-thirty, right?”

“I could drive myself.”

“I don’t think your car should be seen outside his apartment too often. Besides, I want to support you as much as I can as it’s your – um, Mandy’s first proper...”

My voice faded.

“Mandy’s first proper fuck! Say it like it is!” she said coldly. “It’s not a date; Mandy’s been ordered there to be fucked!”

“Chances are she’ll love every minute of it.”

It was unkind, but my wife’s brutal words had brought the day’s terrible events into my brain with a vivid brutality, sending a wave of quite unjustified bitterness through me.

“That’s not the point,” she countered angrily. “Whether Mandy enjoys being fucked or not is irrelevant. She’s doing it reluctantly and entirely because of your pathetic dishonesty, remember?”

I was ashamed but knew that this was Amanda talking. I suspected Mandy would feel very differently when Andy’s cock penetrated her that afternoon.

But I didn’t dare say anything.

*

My day at work was almost unbearable. Despite a busy schedule, I could not stop remembering how my wife had looked when Andy had first fucked her and imagining how she might be later that afternoon. To my shame, the terrible internal torments resulted in an almost permanent erection that tangled in my pants and kept its dreadful presence constantly in my mind.

God alone knew what was going through my wife’s mind. Her behaviour gave me few clues when I arrived home to take the kids to their grandparents for a few hours, then take my wife to her appointment. The atmosphere was tense, and by the time I pulled the car to a halt in the car park outside Andy’s apartment at five minutes to four, we had exchanged only perfunctory, one-or-two-word replies.

The journey itself had passed in complete silence. What on earth could I say to my wife and the mother of my children as I drove her to be fucked by another man? The etiquette books were strangely silent on that subject.

Instead, as we drew closer and closer to Andy’s apartment, my chest grew tighter and tighter, my heart thumped louder and louder, my cock became painfully hard and tangled in my underwear, and I became angrier and angrier at my helplessness.

I pulled into an empty space and switched off the engine. We sat in silence for almost a full minute before Amanda looked at her wristwatch and drew in a deep breath.

“Mustn’t be late; not for the first appointment.”

It was the longest sentence she had spoken to me since breakfast. My anger broke out.

“First what, Amanda? Say it like it is, you told me.”

My reply was hard and bitter, using her own words cruelly back at her. It was cruel and unjustified, but I couldn’t help myself.

She simply laughed hollowly at y obvious discomfort.

“Okay, Mister Junior Partner. If you insist, Mandy mustn’t be late for her first fucking, must she?”

A bolt of pain passed through me. Although I had asked for it, the words were still painful to hear.

There was another long pause during which I took a last long look at my wife. Dressed in a short black cocktail dress over dark lacy lingerie, and with her long blonde hair tied back, she looked sexier than I had seen her since that terrible first evening. Her extraordinarily long legs were once again clothed in black silk stockings and she wore high black heels on her dainty feet.

It was ridiculously formal for four o’clock in the afternoon, but simply stunning.

As I looked, the full realization that my wife had dressed sexily for her lover, struck home hard. During the next two hours, this lovely woman - my own sweet wife – was going to be fucked half senseless by my boss Andy’s massive cock.

Although it was my stupid, dishonest actions that had put her in this situation, she had accepted her fate. Bathed, shaved and now on the pill, she had prepared herself to enjoy or endure two hours of whatever pleasures or pains Andy had in mind.

A small whimper of unhappiness escaped my mouth.

“Will you be okay?” she asked.

“You’re sure you’ve got everything you need?” I said, avoiding answering.

She nodded and glanced at the small suitcase behind her.

“I think so.”

“If you want to back out...” I began.

“We’ve been through all this,” she interrupted impatiently. “This is the only way out. You know it; I know it and Andy knows it. Let’s not prolong the agony.”

She put her hand on the door and pulled the lever. It swung open and she stepped out, retrieving her case from the car’s rear seat.

“I’ll be back at six,” I said, grasping her hand almost in desperation. She leaned into the car and kissed me on the cheek as I whispered: “Good luck... Mandy!”

“Thanks. I’ll be back before you realise it,” she said.

Then, drawing herself to her full, impressive height, she turned and without once looking back, walked along the path to the apartment block’s main door. There she pressed a button on the wall and spoke into a stainless-steel panel.

A moment later I heard a faint buzz, my wife pulled the door open and stepped inside.

A moment after that, Amanda was gone and somewhere inside the building, Mandy had arrived.

As the door slowly closed, I felt a sudden urge to leap out, run after her, pull at the door before it could lock and drag her back to the car. To rescue her from her fate in the way I had completely failed to do at the party when Andy had first fucked her so very, very hard.

But I was weak and remained in my seat, gripping the edge of the steering wheel with all my might.

Chapter Fourteen

For the next two hours, it was hell on earth!

At first, I drove back home, but could not settle. Everything reminded me of Amanda and what was going on at that moment. Her coat and bots in the hallway, her academic books in the study, her apron and handbag in the kitchen.

Far worse awaited me in the bedroom, where the sight of her clothes on the bed and in the closet brought new agonies. Terrible images flashed through my mind; of the way she looked as she entered the building, of the look on Andy’s face when he realised the treat he had in store; of him stripping the sexy dress she was wearing from her body or worse, of her voluntarily baring herself for him.

I had to get away from it all.

Our poor dog had already been walked twice that day, but I dragged him outside on yet another tour of the neighbourhood, wondering with every step what was going on in that apartment.

Had they kissed?

Was she naked yet?

Had he fingered her as he had done at the party? There had been no concealing the way she had enjoyed that!

Had she spread her long, slender legs to let him into her most private places? Or had he opened her forcibly, exposing once again the vulva that by rights, only I should ever have seen?

Was his cock in her pretty, sweet mouth? Was his tongue inside her weeping slit? Or even both at once?

Was she on her back on the bed? Or on her knees on the floor? Or perhaps bent over a desk or table?

Had he penetrated her yet? Had that long, thick cock once again found its way into her sweet, tight vagina, only the second time in her life that any cock but mine had been in that special place?

And of course, had she already had one of those incredible orgasms that I had been astonished to see in Andy’s office? How could she not be affected after feeling pleasure as intense at that? How could she possibly remain the wonderful wife and mother she had been only a matter of days ago?

Could our marriage really survive this clinically planned and executed infidelity? Would we really be able to separate Mandy the whore from Amanda the wife and mother afterwards?

And above all, it was all my fault! My stupid, stupid fault!

I could feel big tears of regret and remorse welling up in my eyes. I tried hard to blink them away, but they kept on returning.

I thanked God the kids weren’t home, or they would have thought their father had gone insane.

But nothing lasts forever, though it might feel like it. At long last, my watch told me it was time to collect Mandy from Andy’s apartment. I returned home, settled the dog with one of his toys, washed some of the redness from my face and set out in the car.

At six o’clock, as agreed, I was sitting in my car outside the door to the block in the exact same place I had dropped her off. My stomach was churning horribly as I watched the car’s digital clock count down the minutes; five fifty-nine; six o’clock; one minute past; two minutes past; three minutes past...

At four minutes past six, the back door of the car was pulled open sharply, making me jump. A small suitcase was thrown onto the back seat and a moment later, the front passenger door was opened, and my wife flopped heavily into the seat alongside me.

We sat in silence for a few seconds. Amanda’s body was tense; her long, slim legs pressed tightly together, her hands on her knees. Her head was lowered and her long blonde hair, now freed from its bonds, fell like a curtain concealing her face from me.

For a moment I was struck dumb; what does a man say to his wife when she’s just been fucked by someone else? Fortunately, the decision was taken out of my hands.

“Take me home!” she said, her voice cold.

“Are you okay?” I asked, my voice trembling, then added questioningly, the name “Mandy?”

She nodded.

“Don’t look at me. Just get me home quickly. Please!”

She didn’t speak another word throughout the journey to our house. I tried not to stare, but my curiosity was unbounded so I took every opportunity I could to glance across as I drove. I even angled the rear-view mirror so I could watch her more closely.

Mandy was wearing the designer dress she had arrived in, but from its still-pressed look, I guessed she had not worn it for long during her appointment. Her long, slender legs were bare; her black stockings gone. Her knees remained tightly pressed together, and she fidgeted uncomfortably throughout the journey. Her hair was ruffled too, and from the little I could see in the mirror, her make-up was either smudged or gone.

But what struck me most was the vivid pinkness of her flushed face and chest. This could only mean one thing; Andy had taken her to those extraordinary heights of orgasm once again. My wife had cum recently and cum hard, a fact reinforced by the powerful aroma of recent sex that, by the time we reached home, had filled the car, my nostrils and my brain.

At one point when I looked in the mirror, I saw tears running down both her cheeks. I reached across to squeeze her hand and console her, but she swivelled herself away and refused my touch.

No sooner had the wheels stopped turning in our driveway, than she was out of the car and half-running to the house. Carrying her suitcase, I unlocked the door. She pushed past me, ran across the hallway and up the stairs, leaving me to inhale the heady aroma of expensive perfume mixed with a woman’s orgasmic vaginal juices.

It made my head spin.

Barely a minute later I heard the shower running. It ran for a long time.

*

It was a full half hour before Amanda came downstairs, during which the kids had been returned, happy and well-fed, by their grandparents. Dressed in jeans, a tight, high-necked sleeveless top and completely devoid of make-up, she looked the sweet, innocent, pretty wife and mother that she had been until so very recently.

“How are you now?” I asked.

I handed her a glass of wine, hoping she wouldn’t notice the painful, persistent swelling in my pants. She took the glass rather more eagerly than usual.

“I’m okay,” she replied, downing half the wine in a single sip.

“Was it…” I began.

“Please stop!” she interrupted loudly, then carried on in a more measured voice. “Sorry, but Mandy’s gone now. I don’t want to remember or even think about what happened to her. Please don’t ask me anything about it. If I can’t keep the two separate, then you won’t either and...”

She didn’t need to finish. I understood, though it was almost more than my frustration and curiosity could bear. But I bit my tongue hard and resigned myself to remaining in frustrated ignorance and studying her as closely as I could without incurring my wife’s justifiable wrath.

Her still-flushed face and slightly stiff gait were the only indications that anything had changed, but they were enough to push my imagination into overdrive. Nothing could distract me; everything I read, or heard, or saw on TV reminded me that something terrible had happened. Not even helping with the kids’ homework or the trickiest of work papers could take my mind from the fact, and my body did nothing to help, maintaining an almost priapic erection throughout the whole evening.

Meaningful conversation was impossible. Unsurprisingly, the rest of the evening passed in stilted, awkward, trivial exchanges of words.

At bedtime, Amanda changed into her long nightdress in the bathroom, which was not her usual habit. Try as I might – and believe me, I tried hard - I could not see whether the rest of her body bore any marks of her fucking.

Of Mandy’s fucking, I corrected myself.

For a long while, I thought my wife couldn’t sleep. I lay awake, my cock still unbearably hard, waiting and hoping that she would want to talk about her ordeal, if indeed it had been one. But if she was still awake, she kept the fact to herself and did not say a word.

The frustration was unbearable. In the end, I had no option but to go to the bathroom and, for the first time in many years, masturbate in front of the mirror in semi-darkness. I was so aroused by visions of my wife orgasming under Andy’s onslaught again, that it took barely two dozen strokes of my hand to bring myself to a spurting, knee-trembling climax.

Physically relieved, I wiped the sticky, pale cum from my hand and the mirrored glass, then pulled my shorts back up and sneaked back into the bed where Amanda was still asleep - or at least, pretending to be.

Eventually, a long, agonising time later, I did fall asleep.

The terrible day had ended. Mandy’s first fucking was over, and I was still married, though whether to Amanda or Mandy was by no means clear.

What was clear, was that whatever she had experienced in that apartment, it would have to remain a mystery to me.

And that it was all my fault.