Our Arrangement

Mark and I grew up in a small tightly knit religious community. Our families were neighbours who regularly attended the same church, sent their kids to the same school and spent much of their time in each other's company. The result was that Mark and I were kind of thrown together, but that was fine. We liked each other from the start and always had similar interests, and over time our childhood friendship became deeper until it was accepted and encouraged by everyone that we should get married, and that is what happened when we both eventually reached twenty-one.

Of course, the constraints placed upon us by our devout parents meant that neither of us could even think of having sex before we were actually married, although I was surprised to find that Mark found the stricture much easier to cope with than I did. Every time I got what he thought was too amorous he would gently extract himself from my embrace and remind me that we had to wait. So wait we did and I went to the altar a virgin.

We had arranged our wedding to correspond with a promotion that Mark had been offered in the nearby city, the intention being that we would begin our married life at the same time as he began his new job and so make a completely fresh start. Both he and I were happy about that, mainly because we would start life together out from under the stifling control of our deeply religious families. Their pious devotion was neatly illustrated when we returned from our honeymoon and found that our new apartment had inexplicably grown a crucifix screwed to the wall of our bedroom. By unspoken agreement we took it down and consigned it to the depths of a cupboard. Out of respect we couldn't quite bring ourselves to throw it out altogether.

The honeymoon had not been a success. Of course we had enjoyed ourselves as any young couple would when let off the leash at a beachside resort, but in the bedroom it was a different matter. For the first three nights Mark and I tried to make love, but to put it in a nutshell he couldn't get it up, or at least he couldn't keep it up. We put it down to the tensions of being newly married and left nature to solve its own problem. But the result was that I returned from honeymoon still a virgin, not at all what I had expected.

Things did improve a little when we settled into our new home, but it was only a little and it took nearly three weeks for me to lose my unwanted virginity. We didn't indulge in the abandoned nights of unrelenting passion that I had envisaged. In fact sex was rare in the beginning and didn't get any more frequent as time went on, and even then it was about as unadventurous as it could possibly get. The problem for me was that now that I could have sex without feeling guilty I wanted to explore it, to try things, even things that people might regard as being a bit kinky, but there was no chance of that with Mark. I even had to remind him that there were more positions available than the missionary one, not that it made much difference. If it hadn't been for the fact that, like me, Mark wanted children, I don't think he would have been bothered if we never did it at all. Don't get me wrong, we were warm and affectionate with each other, it was just the sexual act bit that gave us trouble. Not once did I orgasm with him, that came only when I masturbated on my own, but I needed the simple physical contact that came with lovemaking and being married in church meant I couldn't look elsewhere.

Then about eighteen months after our wedding came a bombshell as far as I was concerned. We were still making love even if infrequently and we weren't using any precautions and so as time went by I expected to get pregnant, but I didn't. Without saying anything to Mark I went to see a doctor who sent me to a clinic who ran some tests, and gave me the one outcome I definitely didn't want. Apparently I have both an abnormal uterus and underdeveloped fallopian tubes and so I never would get pregnant. I didn't tell Mark - I daren't. I was pretty sure he'd either stop having sex with me completely or even walk out on me altogether, and I genuinely didn't want either. It did occur to me that my inability to conceive left the way open for me to get my sex somewhere else, but I took my marriage vows seriously and I didn't want to break them.

Of course the frustration I felt from insufficient sex and the secret I was keeping from my husband made me irritable, which in turn put a massive strain on our relationship. The end result was that I took to sulking and he took to going out on his own.

But then a strange thing happened, he suddenly seemed much more content with life. I tried to figure out what had so unexpectedly made him so much happier because it certainly wasn't me, and as a result I got suspicious. My initial thought was that he'd found another woman, but his lack of interest in sex made me abandon that idea almost as soon as it entered my head. But then one day I found out by accident that he wasn't going where he'd said he was and my suspicions about another woman were triggered once more. I decided to follow him.

It was dark when he went out, and as he went out on foot I had no trouble tailing him unseen. One thing was certain, he wasn't heading for the local bar as he had said, in fact the direction he took didn't seem as though it would take him to any accepted destination at all. Then it became more mysterious when he abruptly turned right and walked into the secluded car park of our local library, deserted after hours, and even more so when I got to the entrance just in time to see him jump into the passenger seat of a strange car. This is it, I thought, hiding quickly behind another car. But then I saw that it was a man rather than a woman who was driving. Back to the drawing board. Now what was he up to?

I shrank back into the shadows, rethinking my misgivings and mentally apologising to him and wondering what to do next. At that moment I suddenly saw the two men lean towards each other and kiss! It was only a quick peck before the driver started the car, but it was on the lips and that was enough.

Everything, and I mean everything, suddenly fell into place, the reason why he found sex with me so unappealing, the reason why he'd happily waited until after our wedding to do it all, and the reason why he'd been going out alone of an evening. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry, whether I should be angry or just relieved, but at least now I knew. The truth of the matter was that Mark was gay and he would never really want me, and with that appalling realisation the tears suddenly began to flow.

I kept out of sight until the car containing my husband and the man I assumed was his lover pulled way, and then I leaned back against the car park wall while I waited for my head to stop spinning and my tears to stop running. Now what was I going to do? I could understand why he'd never said anything before. He would have been an outcast, in the literal sense, if he'd come out to his ultra-religious parents and maybe he thought that being married would 'cure' him of his inclinations. But that didn't answer my question, what was I going to do now? Divorce was out of the question, our religion simply didn't allow it and we would both be ostracized by our families, even though neither of us really shared the strength of their beliefs.

In any case it was only our sex life that was awry, the rest of our relationship was fine. But it was obvious to me that I couldn't go on as things were, it was driving me crazy and it could never get better. It was okay for him to take a lover but all that did was sentence me to a life of effective celibacy. The answer, I thought, was equally obvious. If he could take a lover then so could I, and if he didn't want to tell me, then I wouldn't tell him. It was an answer born of anger and bitter betrayal, but the more I thought about it, the more obvious a solution it became. The next time I was presented with an opportunity, I decided, I was going to take it. After all, as I saw it the marriage vows that I held so dear had already been broken, smashed by my husband in following his unnatural inclinations. I was free to do as I wished. It wasn't an easy decision, mainly because although I can't say I loved Mark anymore, he was my partner, my husband, and a dear friend, and he was also my first and so far only sexual partner. Going to bed with someone else was not a step I would take lightly. I leaned against the wall and wiped the tears from my eyes, sniffled loudly and set off to walk home - alone.

But it's not as easy as that, is it? As I walked I deliberated. Did I really want to take a lover; did I really want to cheat on my husband, regardless of his behaviour? I couldn't even be absolutely sure that he was gay or that the man in the car was his lover, even though it seemed so obvious. By the time I reached our apartment block I was so confused I didn't know which way to turn. All I knew for sure was that I didn't know anything for sure. And then the thought of me waiting alone in our home while he was out satisfying his urges brought the tears back and by the time I pressed the button for the lift I was sobbing quietly again. When the doors opened I walked blindly forward and reached out for the button for my floor.

'Hold on a minute.'

I'd heard the voice and the clattering of feet up the foyer steps but it didn't really register that it was someone else wanting the lift until the doors began to close again. Instinctively I put out my hand to stop them just as a dark haired man flung himself in beside me.

'Thanks.' He gasped, and then he saw my tear stained face. 'Hey, are you all right?'

I nodded mutely, trying to sniff back the tears.

'You don't look all right. Are you sure everything's ok?'

I looked at him for the first time, recognising the man who lived on the next floor, directly above us. 'No.' I blurted out, tears flooding down my face again. 'My husband doesn't want me.'

'He's left you?' He asked, jumping to the wrong conclusion. 'Gee, I'm sorry.'

'No' I shook my head, sobbing openly. 'I almost wish he would.'

'Hey, come on. You can't mean that.' His voice was full of concern and his arms opened. I fell into them, burying my face against his shoulder. 'You've had a row; it'll be over by tomorrow.'

He didn't understand and I fought to find a way to explain, needing to tell someone. 'Nothing like that. He doesn't want me... You know... He doesn't want me in bed.'

'Then the man's a fool.' He pulled me closer. 'You're beautiful.'

'He likes other men.' There! It was out. I dissolved into tears once more.

'My god, that's not something that's going to change.' His hand was stroking my back. I knew it was only a commiseration stroke, but it felt nice just to have someone care. I instinctively pushed myself closer.

'I know.' I told him, snuffling. 'But I can't leave him.'

He didn't ask why I couldn't, he just held me close as we carried on up. The lift jerked to a stop at my floor, but it felt so good in his arms that I made no effort to get out and I held him tight until the doors closed again. I just didn't want the contact to end. As the lift set off for his floor I turned my head and looked into his warm brown eyes. 'I bet you're sorry you asked what was wrong now.' I hiccupped an attempt at a laugh.

'And miss the chance to have a gorgeous girl snuggled up against me?' His smile was for real. 'No way.'

We just gazed at each other for a few seconds and then we were kissing. I don't know who made the move, I think it was probably me, but suddenly our mouths were locked together and I was moaning deep in my throat. We pulled apart when we ran out of breath and just stood, still in each other's arms, and gazed at each other in shock.

'What did that?' He asked quietly.

I shook my head. 'I don't know, but it was nice.'

Our next kiss was longer and even more eager, and this time our tongues played together as well. We squeezed each other closer, I felt myself squirming against him, wanting to press myself into him, my hands roaming around his back. He was caressing me too, his hands stroking me, wandering around my back, right down until one hand cupped my bottom. I moaned my pleasure. I didn't want it to stop, in fact I wanted it to go on, longer and further. I was unexpectedly turned on. I wanted this man, this near stranger, and I was pretty sure that he wanted me too. My hand ran around to front of his jeans and explored until I found his cock. He was hard, really hard, his erection pushing vainly at his fly as if trying to escape. I ran my fingers along, feeling its length through the denim, but then he pushed me back, holding me at arm's length.

'Wait.' He gasped. 'Do you know what you're doing?'

'Oh yes.' I told him, nodding frantically.

He opened his mouth to answer, but just then the doors slid open again on his floor and he dropped his hands, feigning innocence as we looked round. We were looking at a curious and entirely unconvinced elderly couple. The man smiled knowingly and tipped his hat as they entered. I was going to answer, to make some excuse, but my companion abruptly grabbed my hand and pulled me out, hauling me almost bodily along the corridor.

'If we're going to do it.' He told me, not needing to specify. 'At least let's get somewhere private.'

I knew what I was going to do; I was going to have sex with another man. But then, I giggled to myself, so was my husband and that made it equal. It would not be wrong to say I needed it. I needed to have a man inside me, a real man, one who was having me because he wanted to not because he felt obliged to.

I wouldn't have believed any woman who had told me before that night that she was desperate to be fucked, but I was, absolutely desperate. By the time we were through his door and into his hallway I was fumbling crazily at my clothes, and by the time he led me through the bedroom door I was more undressed than dressed.

'Hey.' He gasped when I began reaching for his jeans. 'Take your time.'

'I can't.' I told him, meaning it. 'I haven't got time.'

'If he comes back, he won't know you're here.'

He'd thought the time limitation was because of my husband. It wasn't, it was because of my own sudden, desperate need.

'I don't care.' I gasped, unclipping my bra and throwing it onto the floor. 'I just want you.'

Moments later I was naked on the bed and all my clothes were scattered all along the way from the door. I watched him undress, more sedately than I had but still hurriedly. Even so, it gave me the chance to take a good look at my soon-to-be lover.

I'd seen him in the building of course, and half noticed that he was handsome, but now I looked him over properly. He was somewhere in his late twenties, I guessed, average height but muscularly built and with a kind of Mediterranean look about him, dark haired, olive skinned and much more hirsute than Mark. But what drew my eyes most, when he was finally naked, was the long stalk of a cock that grew from the dark curly nest of hair in his groin. That was what I was most interested in. I spread my legs ready for him.

'You sure about this?' He asked, gazing down at me. I could see his eyes roaming my nakedness.

'Oh yes, I'm sure.' I promised, holding my arms out to him. 'Very sure.'

Reassured, he nodded and climbed onto the bed, sprawling out alongside me and threading an arm under my shoulders.

'No.' I didn't want to wait and I certainly didn't need foreplay. 'Just do it.' I pulled at his free arm, trying to roll him over on top of me.

Just for a moment he resisted, and then he was on top of me and I felt the tip of his cock searching for my hole. I reached down, wanting to guide him into me, but I wasn't needed, he found his way in and pushed himself home, his rock hard cock sliding all the way up me in one glorious thrust. I'd got a man inside me, a man who wanted to be there. I wrapped my arms and legs around him and smiled as he began to move inside me.

'All the way.' I gasped. 'Don't hold back.'

I meant that he could come inside me, in fact I wanted him to, but I think his interpretation was that I needed it hard, fast and deep, and that's what I got. It wasn't a long fuck but I have never been fucked so well in my life. He rammed into me like a jack hammer, thrusting as hard and deep as he could and all I could do was to cling onto his back, take it and enjoy it. I did enjoy it too, it was just what I needed to bolster my flagging ego and it felt fantastic. As I said, it didn't last long, but maybe that was for the best, I don't think I could have stood it for long because I just wasn't used to being taken like that. Before I'd even got accustomed to the power of it I was swept away with a tide of pure pleasure, and then I heard strange whimpering moans, the sort I make just before I come. I was astounded to find that it really was me, I was going to come, my first ever orgasm that wasn't self induced. I was feeling a massive climax building and I could tell by my partner's breathing in my ear that he was getting there too.

We came almost together, with me being first by a heartbeat or two. I can't describe it, I'd never had a man pumping into me just as I was coming, but the sensation was incredible. It was as if we'd melted together in one hot surge of ecstasy. I'm pretty sure I gouged chunks out of his shoulders, but if I did it didn't seem to bother him, he just ploughed me until at last he was empty and I was finished and we lay panting together on his bed.

Then it hit me. I'd just committed adultery. I'd broken the vows I'd made to my husband in front of everyone. I panicked.

'I've got to go.' I told him, rolling from the bed and scrabbling around for my clothes.

'Why the rush?' He lay there naked and staring, sounding understandably puzzled.

'I've got to get home.'

I pulled on my clothes, not bothering about how I looked, and made for the door whilst he lay, still naked, and stared at me.

'Are you sorry we did that?' He asked.

'No.' I answered, meaning it but unable to reconcile what I was saying with what I was doing. 'I've just got to go.'

I pulled open the bedroom door and rushed out into the hall.

'At least tell me your name.'

His voice followed me and stopped me dead. I'd just had sex with a man and I didn't even know who he was.

'I'm Rachel,' I called back. 'Who are you?'

'Carl.'

I was through the door, into the corridor and making for the stairs back to my own floor before he could say anything else. My head was spinning almost as badly as before, but at least now I knew for certain I wasn't unattractive and it was surprising what a difference that made.

I sat in our apartment thinking about everything that had happened since Mark had gone out to meet his lover that evening and by the time he returned I'd got my head straight and I'd made a decision. I knew what I was going to do. It wasn't exactly honest or morally correct, but in the circumstances I figured it would make my marriage workable.

He could tell there was something wrong the minute he walked in through the door. This time instead of greeting him in the hall I sat quietly in the lounge until he came through, and even then I didn't say hello.

'What's the matter?' He asked. 'Has something happened?'

'You could say that.' I replied. 'Sit down, we need to talk.'

He did as he was asked, looking decidedly wary.

'I followed you tonight.' I announced bluntly. 'I thought you might be going to meet another woman, but I was wrong, wasn't I?'

He sat looking guilty and said nothing, but I suppose there was nothing he could say.

'You're gay, aren't you?' I wasn't asking, I was telling.

He still sat silently, but this time I was determined to get an answer, so I simply waited him out. I could see his eyes darting around as he sought a way out of his situation, until eventually he sighed. 'Yes.'