I took Raul's phone number from the grinning secretary, and passed a shamelessly
dressed woman on the way out.  A pregnant woman should not wear a see-through
dress without under garments, I don't care how good she looks.  Cynthia would
have given her a piece of her mind.

For the remainder of the day, I thought about my task.  My task was nothing short
of turning my wife into a whore for the company, but I'd have to make it seem
like it was her own idea. I had one thing going for me, Cynthia loved the company
and my future in it.  She loved the house, the neighborhood, the schools, and the
fact that her family lived nearby was a major plus for her.  If I lost my job,
we'd have to start over, sell the house, and move.  I had marketable job skills
in one limited field and my only hope of securing work, meaningful work, would
require a move to Yuma, Arizona or moving overseas.

I thought about dumping everything in Cynthia's lap and letting her come up with
an idea, letting her make the tough decisions. She wanted me to move up as badly,
if not more, than I did.  I could picture her saying, "Well, if we have no other
options, if there is no other way, we must do what we must do."  I could also
picture her ranting and raving, threatening law suits and police action, going to
the media, and wanting to confront Mr. Killinger in his office.  I decided the
direct approach was too risky. Near day's end, I called Raul.

Raul talked more sophisticated than he looked.  He was an educated man, and by
his claim, a great dancer.  All I had to do was arrange a date to go dancing. 
He'd pick us up and take us to his club.  I'm sure he meant his club as in his
favorite.  He also told me to make certain she wore a dress, the shorter the
better, and no pantie hose.  That was it, just set the date for Friday, and he'd
handle the rest.  He did say it wouldn't hurt if she were under the impression
that he would be my future boss, and that his report would influence company
decisions regarding my career advancement.

I decided to play that up as much as I could, but he acted as though it weren't
necessary or all that important.  I'll say one thing for him, he was very sure of
himself and cocky.  Talking to a man who was absolutely certain he could seduce
my wife was strange.  Working with him toward that goal was stranger still.

By the time I arrived home, I was horny as hell.  Cynthia never looked sexier,
though she had no makeup on, and wore old jeans and a sweat shirt while she put
the finishing touches on dinner. I couldn't resist.  I came up behind her and
pressed close, nuzzled her neck with little kisses.  I then reached around to cup
her large breasts in my hands.

Cynthia shook free, then turned to scold me with a sauce-dripping ladle, "Bill,
for crying out loud.  There are kids running around that could march in here and
see you doing that.  You know I hate that behavior in private, much less out
where the kids might see."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, but you look too damn sexy to resist."

She strode past me with a pot of beans and said, "I do not look sexy.  What have
you been doing?  Oh, honestly, Bill, you have an erection.  Go take a cold shower
or something.  Go, before the kids see it."

This was par for the course.  Public erections were a big sin in our house.  The
boys get them all the time, but we ignore their boners.  I took a shower.

After dinner, after the kids left, I said, "Honey, I'm being considered for
advancement and a move to the executive office building."

"Bill, no?  Really?  Oh, Bill!  This is fantastic.  I'm so proud of you."

"Not so fast.  They're just thinking about it.  There's this one guy, Raul
Serantini, that seems to hold the key.  I managed to get in to see him today, you
know, to buddy-up."

"Brown nose, you mean.  You wooed him didn't you?  He loved you, I know he did."

"Not exactly.  He seemed more interested in you than me."

"Me?  Why me?"

"He saw you somewhere."

"I don't recall meeting any Raul.  I'd remember a name like Raul."

"He didn't meet you, he saw you?  Evidently, he liked what he saw."

"He did, huh?  What did he say?"

"Oh, he just went on and on about how you look exactly like Jackie Smith.  He
wanted to know all about you.  He obviously has a thing for Jackie Smith."

"Well, that can't hurt us.  So, what did he want to know about me?"

"Personal stuff, Cynthia, very personal if you ask me."

Cynthia smiled and sat up, leaning forward on her elbows, saying, "Yeah, like how
personal?"

Frankly, I was surprised by this reaction.  She seemed to want something juicy. 
I was winging it anyway, so I said, "He wanted to know your likes and dislikes,
hobbies, interests, that sort of thing, but what floored me was when he started
prying into our sex life."

"Oh, he did, did he?  What exactly did he want to know?"

"You know, how often you want it.  Your favorite position.  What you like
best--vaginal, anal, or oral."

"Good, god, Bill.  You didn't tell him the truth, did you?"

"Well, yes.  I had to say something."

"Oh, Bill.  Can't you see?  He wanted stuff for fantasy.  He wants to fantasize
me as he thinks Jackie Smith is.  You blew it."

"What should I have said?"

"You should have fed his fantasy.  You know what men think about her.  She does
everything and always wants to do it.  All you did was put distance between me
and her when you should have strengthened that connection."

"By lying about you?"

"He'd never know the truth.  It's none of his damn business anyway."

"Well, to be honest with you, I did lie a little."

"Oh, what did you tell him?"

"Well, I told him you love oral sex."

"That's good, Bill.  What else?"

"I said you adore the feel of semen on your body."

"You men.  I don't think any woman adores something slimy and sticky on their
body.  That's good, though.  I'll bet he liked that.  What else?"

"He asked if you like going out in short dresses without pantyhose.  I picked up
that he liked that idea, so I said you never wear pantyhose, and sometimes, you
don't wear panties.  I told him you like the feeling of being totally naked under
a short dress."

"I do have that fantasy.  How did he react when you told him that?"

"Honey, he went nuts.  He got the biggest erection I ever saw. Raul has a
reputation as a lady's man, and he has a huge endowment.  I never saw a crotch
bulge like he had when he tried to picture you naked under the dress he saw you
in.  He actually told me what he was thinking."

"What was he thinking?"

"He went into this fantasy about walking up behind you, lifting your skirt, and
doing it to you in a public place."

"Oh, Jeez!  That's my other fantasy - being taken in public."

"How come I never knew this, or that you fantasize going out without panties?"

"I don't share my fantasies, and I do go out without panties sometimes.  That
isn't a fantasy.  Shocking, huh?"

"I think it's great."

"You do, huh?  I thought you'd be upset.  I just do it as a cheap thrill.  I'm
not out trying to lure a man to my bed or anything."

I smiled to put her at ease and said, "Come on, Cynthia, with the skirt lengths
you wear, someone had to see."

Cynthia blushed, smiled, then said, "Oh course people saw.  I mean what would be
the point if no one could possibly see. That's where the thrill comes in, knowing
a man can see I'm not wearing any panties."

"I don't believe a man can look at your vagina and not do everything humanly
possible to get you in bed."

Cynthia's demeanor suddenly became somber and reticent as she said, "Sure, they
try."

When Cynthia is in the mood for sex, we play this game.  I accuse her of sexual
misconduct or pry into her activities.  If she waves it off, or gets pissed off,
I know she's not going to fuck me.  If she looks guilty and somber, I know she's
willing.  All I have to do is keep her going and she'll confess to anything she
can dream up.  We usually end up in a fight that ends in me forcing myself on her
and taking sex, or her making up for telling me a lie that upset me and giving me
an I'm-sorry fuck. Either way I get fucked.  I pressed on.

"Cynthia, there's more to this, isn't there?  Don't worry.  I won't be angry.  I
know it was innocent fun."  I put a big smile on my face to ease her fears and
said, "Come on, out with it. You've been busted, girl."

"God, Bill, you're sure taking this well.  How come I never saw this side of you?
 Do you know how much I've dreaded this day?"

"You were a bad girl, weren't you?"

"Yes, Bill.  I've been a very bad girl, more times than I want to admit.  It all
started when we put Angie in pre school.  I have the house to myself.  You're
gone all day and never come home unannounced.  The kids are gone and I don't need
to worry about them popping in.  I found myself alone with my vagina.  My vagina
made me do bad things, Bill, very bad things.  In our bed, even."

"I got up and went to her.  Cynthia wasn't sure what I was up to, so she
stiffened and brought her hands up in ready defense.  I took her in my embrace
and hugged her warmly.  She slowly relaxed as I said, "Honey, I understand.  I'm
not jealous or upset. Furthermore, I have no intention of trying to stop you from
doing it again, or making you feel guilty about doing it."

Cynthia had never encountered that type of response from me, and was quite taken
aback.  She said, "Bill, are we talking about the same thing?  Do you understand
what I mean by doing it?  Bill, I let men make love to me in our bed, our marital
bed."

"I know sweetheart.  It's all right."

"Bill, I'm not talking about one or two or even ten.  I'm talking about twenty or
thirty in the past six months, and many of those guys have been back for
repeats."

"I don't care, honey.  I mean that."

"One guy meets me here every Thursday afternoon.  Today is Thursday.  He refuses
to use a condom.  Another man's semen is in my vagina and you're still hugging
me.  There's something wrong with this picture; can you figure out what it is?"

I held her at arm's length to make eye contact, then smiled and said, "The
picture has given me an erection."

She glanced down, then smiled and said, "How do you feel about sloppy seconds
from your wife?"

"Do I have to use a condom?"

With a devilish gleam, she said, "Yes, you know I'm not on the pill.  You might
get me pregnant, and I don't want to risk that happening."

I smiled equally devilishly and replied, "If the lady doesn't want my baby, then
I guess I'll wear a condom."

Cynthia took me by the hand and dragged me to the bedroom.  My normally very
reserved and quiet wife was suddenly very aggressive and talkative.  She mounted
me and let out a barrage of vile phrases and words that I never heard cross her
lips, phrases such as:  "Fuck my adulterous pussy," and "Screw my cheating cunt."
 And my favorite, "Stir up my lover's sperm with your little rubber-wrapped
dick."

I saw Cynthia have a climax for the first time, then saw her apologize with her
eyes after recovering from it.  She pushed herself up on straight arms with her
hands resting on my chest, my cock still hard inside her wet pussy because I
hadn't cum. She got serious and said, "I think I'm crazy, Bill.  There's
something wrong with me."

I said, "Why, just because you cheated?"

"No, because I like to torment the only man I ever loved or ever will love.  I do
that to you on purpose, Bill, and I can't stop and don't know why.  I want to get
off  of your penis right now after having had my climax and leave you suffering. 
That's sick, Bill, but I want to make you suffer."

"Then get off."

Cynthia looked into my eyes, trying to understand me, but eased off slowly.  She
sat back on her heels with my rubber encased erection between us.  She looked
over my rigid member with mischievous eyes and said, "Don't you hate me, Bill? 
Can't you see I'm enjoying this?"

She was indeed.  Her fingers were stirring her supposedly spermy twat while the
fingers of her free hand rubbed her clit.  I'd never seen Cynthia touch herself,
much less masturbate.  I stared at her working fingers, admiring her sexy pussy. 
I never had a good look at Cynthia's pussy.  She always hid herself from me,
especially the fleshy parts between her legs.  She was now displaying them to me.
 She was wet, but I saw no evidence of sperm I'd stirred up.  She said, "Say
something, Bill."

"I don't hate you, Cynthia.  I love you.  I always will, no matter what you do."

This excited her even more and she frantically frigged her cunt, saying, "You
don't know what you're saying.  I let everyone fuck me without a rubber but you,
Bill.  I don't care if I bear you another bastard child.  That's right.  Angie
isn't yours.  She is the product of my first cheating act.  I fucked your father.
Angie is your father's baby.  She's your sister, not your daughter.  Oh God! I'm
cumming!  Oh fuck, yes!  Yes!  Watch me cum, Bill.  I cum for everybody but you,
darling."

Cynthia climaxed in a dramatic show of passion.  She fell to the side then rolled
onto her back beside me.  She looked up to me with sad eyes and said, "I'm sorry,
Bill.  I had to tell you, but not that way.  This has been eating me alive
keeping it in. Before I knew it, I was saying it."

"So, it's true?"

"Yes.  I'm afraid so.  You hate me now, don't you?  I don't blame you.  I hate
myself.  It's not your father's fault.  I seduced him when I knew I was
ovulating."

"No, I don't hate you.  I told you, I will never hate you no matter what you do. 
I don't blame Dad.  The poor guy drools around you.  He never stood a chance."

"He was easy.  So, what now?  I think I need professional help. I want to stop
doing these things, and I want to stop tormenting you.  I want us to have a
normal sex life, but I can't stop these crazy drives.  One day, I'll drive you
away or into another woman's arms.  When that happens, I'll curl up and die."

I hugged her close and stroked her cheek, saying, "You're not going to have to
curl up and die, because I'm never going anywhere, and I don't look at other
women.  I only want to be tormented by you."

Cynthia sat up and turned to look at me.  She said, "Honestly. You've never
cheated?"

"No, never.  I don't even flirt."

"And nothing I do could drive you away."

"No, Cynthia, nothing I can imagine."