### Day 1 - *The Husband*
Friday. 3.15pm. For the past hour and a half, my work colleague Hayley and I have been in mine and my wife's bedroom fucking each other's brains out.
Just as we're finishing up I hear a car pull up outside.
"Fuck!" I gasp, looking out the window, "Emily's home!"
My Friday afternoons with Hayley have been a regular fixture for well over a year now. Thankfully we both always park around the back of the house as a precaution for this eventuality.
We dart quickly down the stairs, our clothes tucked under one arm, scurry through to the kitchen and out the back door. My heart is racing, I feel nauseous, but for a brief moment - as we slip through the back gate - I feel like we're going to getaway unseen. I then realise my mistake. I've left my trousers upstairs. I tell Hayley to leave and head back inside.
When I get back up to the bedroom I hear voices coming from the front driveway. I look through the window and see Emily talking with two men. She seems upset.
They follow her into the house and I hear them walk through to the living room.
"You can't," Emily pleads, "He's going to be home any minute. Please go. Please."
"That's half the fun though isn't it?" one of men laughs.
My heart starts racing. What the fuck is going on? I ask myself.
I retreat back into the bedroom and open the Ring app on my phone. I can now see and hear everything that's going on downstairs.
"Please..." she continues to beg, "You can come back tomorrow."
"The quicker you shut up and do as you're told, the quicker we can leave," the man tells her.
He unzips his jeans and pulls out his cock.
"Please..." she pleads, one final time, as he pushes her down onto her knees.
Seconds later he is invading her mouth. I watch in disbelief as he grabs the back of her head and plunges himself deep into her throat. Her hands come up to his thighs, and she makes a feeble attempt to push him away.
"What the fuck are you doing?" he spits. His right hand swipes hard across her face.
As she gasps for air, he walks over to our TV and rips a cable out from behind it.
"You clearly can't be trusted," he laughs as he binds her hands behind her back.
What the fuck is going on? I ask myself again. Who the fuck are these scumbags? I look over at my old cricket bat, leaning against the wall. I step towards it and pick it up, squeezing it tightly in my right-hand, as I prepare for the impending violence.
Just as I move towards the door the man asks his counterpart a question that stops me dead in my tracks: "Are all your teachers sluts like this?"
"No," I gasp outloud to the empty room, "That can't be..."
I examine the other man more closely. For the first time I appreciate his young age.
"You reckon we've got time to fuck her?" he asks, smiling broadly at his friend.
"Fuck, yes," the older man replies.
He throws her face down into the carpet. She whimpers as he starts roughly tugging down her trousers.
"Please," she begs, "Don't do this now. Come back tonight."
The man stops and looks at his friend.
"Tonight?" he asks, "When tonight? And where exactly?"
"After he's asleep. I'll...I'll meet you in the garden."
The two men nod at eachother, and the older one starts to untie her hands.
My head is spinning. Why is she negotiating with them like this?
They leave - slamming the front door behind them. With Emily now fumbling at the TV cables - trying to make the living room look undisturbed - I take my chance to creep out.
I somehow keep my composure, make it to my car and leave unnoticed. For twenty minutes I drive around before heading back home.
"Emily?" I call, as I enter the house, "I'm home."
"I'm just having a quick bath," she shouts from upstairs, "I'll be down in a bit."
I walk into the living room. There's no evidence that anything has happened.
A short while later we are eating dinner, and she is complaining about her day at work, like nothing has happened.
"Are you OK?" she asks, "You seem very quiet?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," I answer, as cheerily as I can possibly manage, "Just a bit tired."
We head up to bed at around ten o'clock. I pretend to fall quickly to sleep.
"Babe," she whispers softly an hour or so later, shaking me gently by the shoulder. I continue to feign a deep sleep, and she tip-toes quietly from the room.
I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling as she creeps down the stairs.
Why is she doing this? I ask myself, over and over.
I try with all my might to stay where I am. Whatever is happening in the garden is not something I need to see, I tell myself.
I manage to hold-out for about ten minutes before climbing out of bed and walking down the hall to the spare bedroom. I look out of the window and into the back garden.
Emily is bent over our garden table. She is naked. The younger man is fucking her hard from behind. His friend sits on a chair, his feet up on the table, casually smoking a cigarette, while tapping away at his phone.
"Fuck," the younger man groans.
"Don't fucking cum in her before I get my turn!" he is warned, by the older man.
"Get on your knees," the younger man tells Emily, as he pulls out his cock.
She spins around and drops down, as instructed. A heavy jet of cum shoots out of his cock, covering her face.
The older man starts laughing.
My stomach flips. I'm going to be sick. I dart towards the bathroom, collapse to my knees and my insides explode.
What the fuck is going on? I ask myself, as I catch my breath. This can't be real.
