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SUNDAY, MARCH 11, 2007.

Travelling back from visiting cousin S****** this afternoon, the car broke down. It couldn’t have happened in a worse spot. I was taking the usual short-cut across country when the engine cut out on a quiet lane leading to the village of B. Of course, completely lacking any mechanical aptitude or knowledge about the internal combustion engine, I had no choice but to ring the RAC. Giving our location as best I could I was told that it would probably be at least an hour before anyone could attend. Well it was a bore but we had no choice, not that Marie took it as stoically as I.

To placate my wife I raised the bonnet saying I’d check if anything was obviously wrong but she knows my lack of car maintenance skills as well as I do. While I was staring helplessly in the bonnet a black BMW pulled up and a guy climbed out asking if we needed any help.

“It’s OK. I’ve called the RAC,” I told him.

“My husband’s totally useless with cars,” Marie said to the guy.

“I might as well have a look. You never know it might be something simple,” he smiled at her.

Having been on a visit to my cousin Marie was dressed quite sedately for once. However it was an unusually mild and sunny day for the time of year and the knee length figure hugging black dress she wore, displaying her curves to advantage, had ridden up well above the knee. While driving I’d been very aware of the outline of my wife’s suspenders beneath her tight fitting dress and I guessed the BMW driver was aware of the same thing. My wife was sitting sideways in the passenger seat and he was certainly looking at her legs while they chatted.

Anyway, he tore himself away to look under the bonnet of the car, soon saying, “Oh it’s just the **** come loose. I can fix that,” his technical terminology meaning nothing to me.

In less than two minutes the car started.

“There, I told you he was useless!” Marie exclaimed, now perched on top of a gate and displaying more leg than was strictly necessary.

I rang the RAC to cancel the visit but was told the engineer was nearly here now; his previous call having proved a quicker job than expected, so it might be as well if he checked the car over anyway.

“You’re useless,” Marie said crossly. “Now we’ve got to hang about here unnecessarily.”

“Tell you what; I live just up the road in B. Why not come and have a coffee while your husband waits for the RAC. He can pick you up from there,” the guy said, to which Marie gave her assent.

I walked over to his car with them, irritated by the rather excessive amount of leg my wife displayed on climbing in beside the guy.

Once the mechanic had been, looked my car over and pronounced it OK, I signed his paperwork and set off for the village. I soon found the street but having driven the length of it without seeing the house number he’d given me parked at the end and walked back, assuming I’d missed it. Well I still couldn’t find 15A and decided to try 15. A woman answered my ring and I explained my predicament, suddenly realising that I didn’t even know the guys name. However I described him and his car as best I could and she exclaimed, “You mean Toby, he’s in K**** Court not K**** Street. You must have misheard the address.”

Thanking her I was about to walk back along the street when she said, “Toby’s bungalow backs on to our house and yesterday’s strong winds blew a section of the fence down. You can take a short cut if you like.”

She showed me where to go and I soon found myself walking along the side of Toby’s bungalow. Glancing in a window I realised it must be his bedroom for there beside the bed was Marie, getting dressed. At that moment Toby came in, stark naked, and said something to her before going out again. I was astonished to realize that in the time it had taken me to get there, they must have had sex!

Continuing to the front door I wasn’t surprised when he took a long time answering the bell. Toby eventually opened the door, fully dressed but looking decidedly flustered.

“Marie’s just popped to the loo before continuing your journey,” he told me, explaining her absence.

Letting us out a few minutes later there was nothing in his demeanour to indicate that he’d just fucked my wife.

It turned out that Toby gave me the wrong address on purpose, to buy more time!

* * *

MONDAY, MARCH 19, 2007.

Since taking over the family business I’ve steadily built it up and one result of the growth means more trips away. Marie, as she’s done today, now accompanies me quite regularly. It’s only for one night this time but she fancied a change of scenery.


Returning from my walk after the evening meal I met a young guy along the corridor plainly having just left our room. He smiled in passing and on entering the room I found my wife naked on the bed where he’d left her.

“Who the hell was that?” I demanded.

“Oh just some guy I met.”

Having picked the guy up in the bar she didn’t even know his name and xslot my wife’s casual and nonchalant attitude about having been to bed with him shocked me.

* * *


Greatly surprised when Mr. Burridge rang the office and said he needed to see me urgently. Eric owns a company working in similar fields to my own, albeit with considerably less success. He has often blamed me for his own failures, sometimes accusing me without justification, of using contacts on the Council to gain business at his expense.

I have heard on the grapevine that his company is in difficulties and possibly closing, hence my surprise. Mr. Burridge’s request for a meeting with me is quite without precedent.

Having no great desire to meet the rather obnoxious Eric, I am though intrigued to know what he wants and told him I can spare twenty minutes tomorrow afternoon when I shall be the only person working, it being a Bank Holiday. I need to catch up on some paperwork, chiefly for the new presentation.


The meeting with Mr. Burridge left me feeling shattered. I’d better try and write down our conversation as best I can.

Mr. Burridge started off by telling me that while giving his son a lift a few days ago, the lad pointed to a woman out shopping and told his father she was the one he was screwing.

“I’ve known for some time that my boy’s screwing some married piece – good luck to the lad, I say — but wouldn’t have guessed in a million years that it was your missus. Or that you know all about it,” he said.

I felt myself go hot and cold as the import of what he said sank in.

“I don’t suppose you’d want it to get about that you’re the compliant husband of my Gavin’s bit of stuff,” he went on grinning broadly. “But don’t worry, we’re leaving for the states in a few days and I won’t breathe a word to anyone.”

Still feeling dazed and confused I started to mumble my thanks but he cut me short, adding ominously, “Just so long as you agree to what I want.”

“What’s that?” I asked, automatically assuming it was something to do with his business.

My assumption proved to be both silly, his business is closing down after all, and naïve.

“What I want is to fuck your lovely little wife on the marital bed like my boy’s doing.” Mr. Burridge said, standing up to perch himself on my desk.

“Gavin hasn’t been to the house,” I corrected him. “It only happens at the community centre.”

“Maybe at the beginning. In recent months he’s been giving her what for in your own bed,” he beamed. “My lad pops over to your place to shag your missus at every opportunity, five or six times a week he says, and she’s only too keen to fetch him in her car.”

Completely taken aback by his words I remained silent and he went on, “The deal is this. Tomorrow afternoon I’m coming over to your place and fucking the arse off your missus. You’d better persuade her it’s in both your interests to play ball. Tell her otherwise the world will know she’s spent the last sixteen months or so spreading her legs for a lad nearly half her age.”

With that he’d gone.

Astonishingly Marie wasn’t as devastated as I by the knowledge that our secret is in danger of coming out, and even admitted to feeling a bit excited by the idea of being forced to submit to Mr. Burridge; of being in the position of having no choice but to allow the guy to do as he wanted with her.


Assuming I’d be sent away when Mr. Burridge arrived I had my car keys in hand, thinking I might as well go to the office and do some work. That wasn’t his idea at all though.

“Your staying here and watching,” he smirked. “I want you to see everything I do to your wife. You can start by lifting her skirt and showing me what’s underneath.”

I hesitated but briefly, I really had no choice but to obey the guy.

Marie just stood there, actually smiling at the bastard, while I raised her skirt.

“Very very nice, pale blue panties and stocking clad thighs, lovely,” he drooled.

Sitting down he urged her on to his lap, Marie crossing her legs as she obliged. Clamping his hand to my wife’s stocking top he entwined his fingers in her suspender, grinning at me the while.

“Uncross your legs, sweetheart,” he instructed, Marie promptly obeying.

“Good girl. Your going to do everything I say, aren’t you?”

Mr Burridge was stroking her inner thighs above the stocking tops as she nodded her assent.

He was in no hurry, evidently enjoying himself as he kissed and caressed my wife while observing my own discomfort. Actually I was erect and hoping he wouldn’t notice, although there wasn’t much likelihood of that, it creates after all only a minimal bulge in my trousers!

Instructing Marie to stand, he then said to me, “Now you’re going to strip your wife down to her stockings and suspenders, ready for me.”

I haven’t had such contact with her for years and found myself growing more xslot Giriş and more aroused while undressing my wife.

“Now sit and watch,” he said, practically pushing me down onto the chair.

“Cracking bush!” Mr. Burridge exclaimed, running his fingers through my wife’s pubic hair while standing to the side, thus ensuring I could see. “No hesitation in opening your legs either,” he added, sliding his fingers between them.

“My lad told me your wife’s cunt is always sopping, and he’s right!” Mr. Burridge exclaimed. “I was going to have her on the marital bed but that will have to wait until tomorrow.”

Rapidly shedding his clothes he told Marie to climb on the table.

“On my front or back?” she inquired.


Once Marie was in position, bottom perched on the edge of the table, Mr. Burridge, who insisted on being called by his surname throughout so I’ll continue to do so in my Journal, lifted her ankles and held them high and wide.

“Now take my cock and place it inside your wife’s cunt. I want you to see it going all the way in,” Mr. Burridge beamed at me.

Having no choice but to comply I took the bastards penis in my hand and while he spread the lips of Marie’s vulva, lodged it inside. We were both staring down at Mr. Burridge’s penis as it slowly disappeared inside her. Once it was fully embedded he leaned forward to cup and squeeze Marie’s breasts. Straightening up again he flashed me a triumphant grin and said, “Now stand there and watch closely while I fuck your missus.”

And that’s precisely what happened. Despite the fear of gossip, after all there’s no guarantee he won’t talk about all this, I actually found it one of the most arousing and exciting moments of my life. It proved very difficult not to masturbate as I watched Mr. Burridge’s penis drilling in and out of my wife, accompanied by her usual shrieks and cries.

“I’m coming!” he exclaimed suddenly, buttocks clenching. “Shooting my load deep inside your wife the way my boy has dozens of times before me.”

Afterwards it amused Mr. Burridge to order me to wipe his penis clean with tissues and I did so, my own penis remaining erect.

Directly he’d gone I masturbated, having little choice but to relieve my pent up emotions.

SUNDAY, APRIL 8, 2007.

Contrary to expectations I didn’t see any of today’s activities.

“Clear off out of the way now,” Mr. Burridge said when I opened the door to him. “And don’t come back for ages. I’ve got a lot of time today and I’m looking forward to spending it playing with, and screwing, your lovely little wife.”

Pausing long enough to grab my car and office keys, thinking that I might as well go and do some work on next weeks presentation, I left the house and heard Mr. Burridge’s evil sounding laugh as he bolted the door. Locked out of my own house! Well at least I got a lot of work done ahead of Tuesday’s presentation.

Fortunately Mr. Burridge had gone by the time I arrived back home so at least I didn’t have to see his gloating face again. He assured Marie he’ll say nothing to anyone about the weekend’s activities or her affair with his son, before departing for the States tomorrow. Can I rely on his discretion I wonder? Not wanting to jeopardise his own marriage is perhaps a better guarantee of his silence than anything else but only time will tell.

I asked Marie what had happened, what sort of things they’d done, and she teased me about wanting to hear all the salacious details, commenting that it obviously turned me on to see her with other men.

She’s right! I don’t like to admit it, even to myself, but it does excite me to watch her with other men. I seem to gain some sort of vicarious pleasure from the experience; if I can’t satisfy her myself perhaps watching another guy do it in my place is the next best thing.

My wife had showered following Mr. Burridge’s departure but wore only a robe which kept parting as she moved about, offering tantalising glimpses of bare flesh.

“Come upstairs, I know what you need to do,” she told me.

In the bedroom Marie slipped out of the robe and turned to show me the marks of Mr. Burridge’s teeth on her bottom. “Do the love bites excite you?”

“Yes,” My voice sounded hoarse.

“Get your cock out and toss yourself off then,” she said, her coarse turn of phrase both shocking and exciting me.

Marie was on the bed, legs wide apart, by the time I’d shed my trousers and underpants. Staring at my wife’s vagina, a vagina that far too many men have enjoyed, I began masturbating. On impulse I asked her to describe the things Mr. Burridge had done to her, using vulgar and graphic language, such talk sounding strangely exciting coming from her lips.

“Use four letter words,” I urged her.

My wife laughed and plunged straight in.

“You would hardly have got out the end of the street before Eric was licking my cunt,” she told me.

“Oh god,” I groaned, hand pumping rapidly at my penis.

“Eric nibbled and sucked xslot Güncel Giriş my clitoris while fingering my anus, pushing his fingers in really deep, and by this time I was licking and sucking his lovely big cock. I was sucking Eric’s balls when the first orgasm hit me and had to spit them out quickly.”

I came in my hand at that point, the image of my wife sucking the bastard’s balls, filling my mind. Marie’s words, so out of character, excited me so much though that I urged her to continue.

“Well look at me, look at my cunt, and image Eric’s big cock filling it,” my wife urged, really entering in to the spirit off things.

I groaned at her words and Marie laughed before continuing dreamily, “It felt divine when Eric fucked me, his lovely cock sliding in and out of my cunt while his tongue did the same to my mouth.”

I was becoming more and more worked up.

“When Eric came his hot spunk flooded my cunt and I simultaneously exploded in orga ,,,” my wife’s voice tailed off when she realised I’d come in my hand again.

“We must do this again,” Marie said, kissing me before leaving the room.

I felt shattered by what had been a humiliating and embarrassing experience, but knew she was right, we must do it again. I also know without a shadow of doubt that I want other men to fuck my wife, perhaps lots of men!

* * *


With a crisis developing on one of my major contracts I’ve had to delegate the presentation in Lincoln to my wife. I’ve completed all the groundwork and Marie knows the business well enough to deal adequately with the presentation in my absence. She actually went off more than happy with her responsibilities, looking forward to a couple of nights in an hotel.


Rang Marie at the hotel to find out how the initial meeting had gone but the receptionist told me there was no reply from her room. It was pretty late and I assumed she wouldn’t be out but rang Marie’s mobile in case. It must have almost gone to voice mail before she answered, her voice sounding a bit muffled.

I asked how the meeting had gone and Marie, sounding impatient, assured me that there was nothing to worry about; the company directors had seemed impressed with the presentation.

Reassured I mentioned ringing her room and getting no response, asking a little diffidently, because I know she doesn’t like me prying, where she was.

“If you must know I’m in bed with a lovely man I met down in the bar after dinner, and whose fingers are currently doing exquisite things to my cunt.”

I heard a masculine chuckle in the background as I exclaimed, “Oh, I might have known!”

The guy must have been listening to our conversation because an American voice suddenly boomed in my ear, “Hi buddy, your wife’s just been giving my balls a good suck, a nice present to take back to the States tomorrow.”

“Well your tongue in and around my cunt felt just as good,” Marie’s voice cut in.

Again he chuckled.

“Marie reckons your OK with this buddy and has she’s ready to be fucked we’re hanging up.”

“Just a minute, I haven’t finished talking to my wife.”

“No time now buddy she’s pulling me on top and in two seconds my dick will be deep inside your wife’s cunt, think on that while in your lonely bed.”

“Don’t hang up, let me listen,” I urged and they laughed but at least the phone was left on.

I heard it being placed on what I assume was some sort of bedside cabinet and almost immediately my wife’s voice called out, “Oh yes, lovely.”

There were various rustling and creaking sounds, indicative of copulation, and the American voice grunted, “My dick’s right inside now Marie, do you like it?”

“Oh yes, yes!”

There was no more speech then, just male grunts mixed with female cries, and to my shame I masturbated to the sounds of my wife being fucked in the hotel room all those miles away.


Unable to contact Marie today. No response from her room and her mobile was switched off. Presumably she’s enjoying herself.

FRIDAY, APRIL 13, 2007.

Well we’ve been awarded the contract so Marie’s trip was a very successful one. Of course the reason I was unable to contact my wife last night is that she was with a man, not the American as I’d assumed but the Managing Director of the firm we’re doing business with, at his house. It may explain the ease with which she acquired the contract! I suppose at some stage in my dealings with the company I shall have to meet the guy who yesterday twice fucked my wife, which could prove embarrassing with him assuming he cuckolded me with her. At least he doesn’t know I’m compliant about my wife’s liaisons, having little choice in the matter.

When, in response to my request this evening Marie related the details of her latest conquest, stretched out on the bed with her legs apart to cater for my onanism, I was so turned on by her tale that I asked her to write it up in my Journal. She would capture the essence better than I and reading it in her own hand will I think prove a greater turn on for future readings.

(So it is that the following is transcribed from my wife’s entry. I think I’ve just about managed to decipher her handwriting!)

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