Subject-Unfaithful husband punished by wife who takes a lover. Husband finds bi-sexual lover and initiates an affair to punish wife.
Yeah, I know you are right about that, I guess we got married too young. I knew Marianne had a serious relationship with Dexter Johnson, our High School Quarterback but they broke up when he went off to college. I was working in Dad's record store on Main Street and Marianne would come in from time to time to shop the oldies section. She was a beauty. You can't blame me if I was always there to lend her a helping hand although what I wanted to lend her was something else, more like a helping finger or a swollen cock.
Neither one of us were college material. I was business orientated and Mary Anne was a Secretarial major in High School. She'd worked part time at Hampton's Law Office and Mrs. H had offered her a good full time job when she graduated. So, what the hell, who needed to go to college?
We started dating that year. She was easy. It wasn't a question of first or second base. We were fucking in the Shankwell's Drive In Movie Theater on the first date. Yeah, it's a weird name but that is where we were, shanking. Marianne wasn't any virgin, but I was and she was the answer to my prayers. She looked a lot like Demi Moore back then, same hairdo. No, not Demi as the nude pregnant covergirl, that came after. Anyway, when Marianne missed her period for two months running I was happy to walk her to the altar. We skipped the honeymoon to save the money. Well, we were two poor kids, ok?
We lived for a time in the apartment over my dad's garage. We stayed there for three years until Dad started having heart problems. He was advised to move somewhere warmer. That was when he made me the manager of the record/music store and he and Mom moved to Saint Petersburg in Florida. They told us that we could move from the garage apartment to live in their old house provided we kept it up and sent them a thousand each month. Of course Dad was still in for a percentage of the store's business but all thing said, it was a sweetheart deal.
I started to expand the inventory from just records to selling musical instruments. Vintage guitars had always been a hobby so I offered up a good part of my collection. I was surprised when people started bringing me in vintage stuff to buy. I also took on some newer Asian Guitars that were quite good, especially for beginners. The distributer who was overstocked just sent me an assortment of colors and styles with easy payment options.
All of a sudden, money came easy, I was doing very well at the store and my wife was bringing home enough to keep us more than afloat. Our daughter was healthy and Marianne's sister moved in to the garage apartment and served as a nanny. So life was working out pretty good. But all good things come to an end.
My sex life had taken a strong decline after the baby was born and as the years passed it just got worse. About twenty years out my daughter was off in college leading her own life. I was now entering into my forties. My wife had put on a bit of weight and the wrinkles were making her look like my mother-in-law. I was luckier, I hadn't changed much, a little bit of age seemed to wear well on me. My hormones were still popping me an erection but you can't live on internet porno and jerk off lotion alone. My wife was as open to sex as a nun, maybe even less. She just wasn't into it anymore. We hadn't had sex in three years, and it was drunken sex at that.
What do they say, "The idle dick is the devil's workshop?" Well, something like that?
Of course when Sally Dubois, who was a friend of my daughter, applied for a job as a sales girl at the store, I was smitten. Sally, nineteen years old, became my new employee and with her employment she brought her youth, two really big tits, a great ass and fab legs that showed nicely under her short tight skirts. She started coming in to work looking like she was far too attractive to even be there. Business picked up, lots of young guys would buy whatever she was selling. She would wear those tight blouses and my cock was in perpetual erection whenever she came near. I had a hidden advantage, she liked older men, me in particular. Of course she noticed how my cock saluted her. She wasn't stupid!
The shit, or should I say the tit hit the fan when she offered to help me complete the night inventory. I spent most of those nights with her skirt up over my head. You gotta admit, shaved pussy is a real turn on. Pretty soon I realized, one evening a month was not enough. Of course after we tried to finished up the paperwork in the afternoon. We'd start early. Then we went out to dinner together and wore out the bed over at the Starlight Motel two towns over. Of course I always slipped Sally extra cash for the extra workload, sometimes I even deposited an extra load before we called it a night.
Now at this point you probably figure I got the sales girl pregnant? Nope, after my wife gave birth she insisted I get my tubes tied or snipped, whatever it's called, so I was barebacking Sally in every orifice she possessed. This gal just loved sex, taking it in the ass, even a titty fuck. I was in heaven.
I had heard way back some nasty gossip. They said that my wife Marianne was a blowjob queen. There was a story I'd overheard at a school reunion between two drunken ex jocks who described how after a big football win, Marianne who was just 18 at the time, how she and two other cheerleaders blew the team and the three coaches. They even blew the retarded 18 year old water-guy, but not the school mascot who was a Billy Goat. That was the drunk's punch line. They sure laughed it up.
Unfortunately my cock seemed to have become persona non grata in my wife's puss after the first few years we were married. By this time in our relationship. I couldn't have gotten a blow job out of her if I gave her a new car, which I did. I didn't get a blow job even though I asked. If I wanted a blow job I'd have to go find someone and pay for it. Instead fate smiled at me and sent me my new employee. Sally answered for any pleasures I'd missed. She just loves cock, in particular mine. She'd go down on me in the back office of the store as soon as there was a sign of an erection coming, even a twitch of wood and she'd jump the gun. Did I mention she said she was in love with me? Yeah, I know what you're thinking. They always say that. Well, me too.
It was our inventory night and we'd finished up and the two of us were fooling around at the Starview Motel over in Ardmore when there came a loud knock on the door.
"Who the fuck is that?" I said.
No response, except more heavy knocking.
I opened the door, figuring maybe my car as blocking someone, and who was it? My god damn wife.
Marianne just looked into the room spotted me in my underwear with my cock sticking out and Sally in her bra, with no panties and my wife just muttered,
"I figured!" and stalked out,
She never mentioned it to me but next thing I knew a few days later when I came home from work, I found all my stuff moved into the extra bedroom, even that few copies of some nudie mag that I'd hidden in my underwear drawer were right there laying under my pillow. Now I was sleeping alone. In a way I didn't mind. As far as the wife and me, we were like two non-speaking mutes.
A friend of mine, unasked, tried to intercede. He came back with this pretty quote.
"He fucked with me," said the wife, "and I will fuck on his ass."
Lovely speech, but what did I expect? And this was the bitch who never wanted to have sex with me. Now she was hot to trot. It was as if she'd had a super injection of estrogen mixed with Spanish fly. She went on a diet, had her hair dyed blond and began to go to the gym over on 4th Street. Pretty soon she leaving at night all dolled up and stinking of perfume and was coming home late smelling of pussy and dick.
Since she had her new Mustang she could go wherever she wanted, by that point I really didn't care. This arrangement left me free to pursue any piece of pussy I wanted. Pretty soon I was fucking three different gals a week. More than that was too much. I needed a day in between to recharge the old hairy balls.
A few months later my wife and I had a meeting of the minds over at our lawyer office and we agreed not to divorce but to have an open marriage. The rules were simple. We could have whatever sexual affairs we wanted but we were not to rub the others nose in it. We were not to bring any partners home and we were to be discrete so none of our friends or neighbors knew about our arrangement. It was at that time she let in slip that she had one steady date and wasn't interested in picking up guys in bars.
The agreement was fine with me. The cost of a divorce would have cost me half of everything and I was better off in the present circumstances. But I was a little, to say the least curious to know who this steady paramour was. I got a friend with a vehicle which she would not have recognized, to pick me up at work one afternoon and being winter it got dark pretty quick. The darkness was a pretty good veil for what I had in mind.
We followed her red Mustang Convertible when she left the house and about 20 minutes away she pulled into a darkened driveway. She got out of her car in her high heels and entered a small brick house. I wrote down the street address and the number of the house. The next day a little investigation of the county assessor's internet page told me who the house was owned by. It turned out to be a Winston Faygler.
Now that name was familiar, then it dawned on me. I got out my old high school yearbook and there he was, Faygler was our high school art teacher. I had always thought, when I'd seen him in the hall, that he was a gay, I mean most artist are, aren't they? Not that I cared, but I was surprised my wife was visiting this guy, a full 20 years older than she was. Then I remembered how art was her favorite subject back then and I think she had once said Faygler was her favorite teacher. Yep, there in the old high school yearbook was a photo of the two of them. Him with his arm around her shoulder while she was holding some picture she'd painted.
Ok, now I had a plan. I had received a mailing from the adult school network and I'd thrown it in the garbage, but after rescuing it from under some trash, fortunately I was able to dry it off with a hair dryer so I was able to read it. Yep, there was Faygler, teaching the adult art class on Wednesday nights. Hmm, that was the one night that my wife always stayed home. Now I knew why.
I was a little late for the start of the term but his class was not filled. I registered for his class using my first and middle name. No one seemed to notice. I bought some watercolors and stashed them at the office under some drop cloths that we used when we had to repaint the store. On Wednesday night I showed up at Faygler's class with an entrance slip and next thing I knew I was painting. Since I had never studied under him he didn't know me from the past. Faygler greeted me with a big smile and introduced me as a new student to the class. Then he handed me a poster of an outdoor scene.
"You can paint whatever you like but most of the students like to use the posters as an inspiration to paint from."
It seemed like a good idea.
So for the next few weeks I kept my mouth shut and painted. Me and some old guy were the only men in the class, the rest were mostly housewives gushing over Faygler but he seemed to hang out with me and the old guy more then I would have suspected. A few more weeks into the class I stayed around late and when everyone had left I casually said to Faygler,
"Hey teach, can I offer you a beer?"
"Sure," said Faygler.
