We live in a nice big house in a town called Tunbridge Wells in Kent (for those of you who don't know where Kent is, it is the bottom right corner of England just below London) from where I commute daily up to London to work in a bank in the City. I have a high salaried job so Susan does not have to work and by her own admission she loves looking after our six year old boy Tom and his little sister Jenni who is three. Our lives, by necessity, were routine - as was our lovemaking; although our bond remained strong.
Physically, Susan had blossomed from the skinny teenager I had dated in school and then married after we had got together again after university, into a beauty who turned heads and stopped traffic wherever she went. Whether she was aware of her powers of distraction I do not know, but what I did know was that I had the perfect Wife. I, on the other hand, was looking more and more like a typical bank employee every day; my hair was thinning and receeding, I needed thick glasses to read and my white puny body rarely received any exercise. This was the inevitable consequence of leaving for work at six-thirty in the morning and not getting home until eight pm.
It was clear that things needed to change in our marriage and it was something Susan said one night that started everthing off. It was a Friday night and we were both tired, I had arrived home late after a difficult week in the bank and little Jenni had been unwell which had kept Susan on the go all day. All we wanted was a pillow for our head and a good night's sleep, I thought - but not my lovely Wife it seemed.
"When did we last make love David?" she asked as we lay our heads down together.
As I removed my glasses for the night I pondered and then remembered. "It was after Ken and Joan's party. We were both a bit worse for wear."
"That was two months ago," she replied, "and since then neither of us has had the inclination. It's not just you, it's me too."
"Well, I am not the most dynamic Lover am I," I admitted, "or the most endowed."
"I know and it is not all your fault, but we need excitement David," she said, as she took a hold of my hand and placed it between her legs onto her soft damp crotch, "I need ... I need ... Oh I don't know what I need."
I had realised a long time ago what Susan needed and had badly needed for a long time. "You need a replacement," I said quietly.
"A what?"
"A replacement, for me, down there!"
Susan lifted her head from her pillow and turned to me. "What are you saying Dave?" she asked. Her own voice now very quiet.
"It's bloody obvious. I'm not doing anything for you that you need in that way."
"Wait a minute! Are you actually saying that I should take a Lover?" she asked incredulously.
I hadn't thought my big idea through and the rawness of her question and the word 'Lover' threw me for a second. "Yes! ... No! ... I don't know," I stuttered.
She looked into my eyes, searching for any serious commitment to what I had suggested, and saw none. "I'm a busy housewife with two small children and a husband," she snapped, "so don't be so bloody silly."
So that was it. My stupid, barely thought-through idea had been summarily dismissed as 'bloody silly' by Susan. I didn't know whether to feel insulted or relieved; either way I was ready to sleep but as I closed my eyes my lovely Wife said, "We'll talk again in the morning." Suddenly I was wide awake.
Saturday morning breakfasts at our house are always leisurely affairs and Susan and me usually take the opportunity to chat for a while after the kids have gone back upstairs full of milk, Weetabix and mischief. I poured another cup of coffee for us both and waited for her to talk, that's if she remembered what we had said.
"Was that a serious suggestion of yours last night," she said offhandedly as she sipped her hot coffee.
I wasn't convinced by her apparent disinterest; I could see the pretty red colour of her cheeks that gave away the fact that she had obviously thought about my idea - a lot.
"I guess so Sue," I replied, "but I haven't thought about how it would happen or how it would work afterwards. It just seemed a good idea when I said it; but we certainly need something, don't you think?"
Susan stared into her coffee and thought for a second or so. "We have two beautiful children Dave and everything we would ever want. Why would I want to jeopardize that? And what about you?"
"What about me?"
She reached out her warm hand and placed it over the back of my own in reassurance. "How would you feel knowing that I have strong emotional feelings for another man? And how would you handle the fact that I spend long nights in his bed with his manhood inside me and our naked bodies giving and taking pleasure from each other? And when I come home to you smelling of sex with his sperm still inside me. You know how I get sticky knickers with just your little squirts let alone a real man's deposit."
"I truly don't know," I replied honestly, ingnoring the slight on my reproductive qualities, "but I guess I would handle it in my own way."
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| "... but I guess I would handle it in my own way ..." |
"And what would we say to the kids when I go on dates with this man. How do we explain to them that Mum now has a Boyfriend and won't be at home as much as she used to," she continued.
"That would be down to me to lie convincingly," I replied, "and they are still young so it could become normal after a while."
Susan eyebrows furrowed as she thought further and then asked, "And where would I find this magic stud David? Your friends? I think not! And I don't know anyone at the school gates that would even remotely qualify under such a heading."
"So you are saying it's all too complicated, and the answer is no," I said, noting that she was still pondering on what we had discussed in our conversation.
"I am not saying no, but I am saying that it is tricky," she replied, "I have an idea however."
At those words I felt the floor fall away. In all truth I had expected her to put the whole thing in the 'too difficult' drawer in her mind and just say no. I dreaded asking my next question, but asked it anyway. "And that is?" I said in a trembling voice, fearing her answer.
Susan smiled one of her most disarming smiles as she gave me the outline of her plan. "We make finding your replacement a game between us. We live normally as we have always done but if one of us identifies a potential Lover for me then we check him out and try to make a connection."
"Easier said than done," I remarked, "and what kind of man would he have to be?"
Susan bit her lip and marshalled her thoughts. "Good looking of course ..."
"Of course!" I said sarcastically, for which I received a playful slap on my arm.
"Shut up and let me think" she snapped, "this is serious. So I guess he would be a little older than me and not in a relationship. He would be good company, fun to be with, sophisticated but not pretentious, well dressed, nice car, good manners, a good dancer, great with the kids and most of all, respectful towards you."
"Would he have all his his own teeth?"
"Don't take the piss," she exclaimed laughing.
"There is one other qualification," I said.
"Like what? ... Oh that!"
Susan understood and laughed again. "Somewhere between seven and eleven inches would be nice."
"Slut!"
"Thank you kind sir," she replied with a giggle.
"And if he fits all the criteria and a connection is made?" I asked.
"Then you support me, encourage me, organize our dates or liasons and then get out of the way and let nature take its sinful and delightful course."
"Then who do we know who fits the bill," I asked, what was in effect a question to us both.
For nearly twenty minutes we considered my friends, her friends' husbands, work colleagues even the devastatingly handsome gay man who worked in Tesco. Nobody came to mind as a potential replacement; they were all too fat, too married, too ugly or just plain unsuitable. The disappointment on Susan's face grew at each rejection and even I felt a little sorry for her.
"Well I guess we shall have to leave it to chance," I said as my beautiful crestfallen Wife agreed.
It was late summer when we had had the conversation about 'my replacement' and as the warm weather turned into autumn and then winter neither of us saw or met anybody that would fit even the minimum of Susan's criteria. We decided not to search the internet as there are too many creeps lying in wait for the foolish; my Wife and children are far too precious for such a risk.
Our intial idea had been a good one, but nevertheless our marriage remained dull and the long winter evenings did little to help; it seemed that suitable men were hard to find in Tunbridge Wells. We spoke less and less about the matter and I thought the whole idea had just gone away like the summer leaves had on the trees. So it was because of this feeling of disappointment for Susan that I decided to give the family a treat and book us an early holiday in Crete; that beautiful big island off the South coast of Greece. It wasn't a cheap hotel and for a few extra Euros a night they would provide a baby-sitting service that would allow Susan and me a little time together as adults and not just as dull parents.
The flight from Gatwick was delayed so it was two o'clock in the morning when two very tired adults and two sleeping children booked into the shiny marbled Hotel Reception. We were still tired the next morning when we managed to find some beds by the playpool area and, after covering Tom and Jenni in Factor 50 suncream, we let them go and have a good time with the other kids in the shallow water.
We must have dropped off to sleep because the very next thing I heard was, "Does this belong to anybody," in a loud commanding voice.
I looked up, and above the pair of us was a big smiling Black Man who had a very happy little Jenni on his shoulders. Susan was up like a shot and apologized. "I'm so sorry," she said, "we didn't arrive until two this morning so we are all very tired. I hope she didn't bother you too much."
"Bother me? Hell no. She just wandered over and sat on the end of my sunbed," was his amused reply, "apparently her name is Jenni and she lives in a big house."
Susan's smile was one of amusement and great relief as the big man swung our daughter down from his shoulders and handed her over to her mother.
"So," said the big man, "what part of Kent are you from?"
"Wow! We don't get asked that much," I exclaimed in surprise as I got up from my sunbed to stand next to Susan.
Many people hear the Kent accent and think we are Londoners, but there are subtle differences that only locals recognize, so to hear someone ask that question was very much a surprise.
"Tunbridge Wells," I said, "and you?"
"I have a place in Westerham," he confirmed.
"Just twenty miles up the road then," I said.
"Yes indeed," said Susan, her eyes still shining with gratitude at the big man who had brought our little daughter back.
"Name's Raoul by the way," he said offering his hand.
"This is David my husband," Susan replied, her face colouring as she took in the size of the man standing close to her, "and that's our son Tom playing over there in the playpool, and I'm Susan. Jenni has already introduced herself I think."
"She has indeed," he replied winking at the three year old who then hid her face behind her mother's hair, "and I'm here with my brother Marcus and his Girlfriend, Clare. Their sunbeds are over there next to mine, but they haven't come down from their room yet. They like to wake early and get up late."
At this last comment, Susan's face coloured.
"Well it's nice to meet you all," said Raoul, "but it looks like my Brother and his Lady have just turned up. Perhaps we can meet up in the bar this evening for a drink."
"We'd like that Raoul," Susan replied quickly before I could think of an excuse not to.
For the rest of our first day we played with the kids, cooled down in the pool, waived to Raoul occasionally and just laid back and enjoyed the warm sunshine.
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| ... cooled down in the pool ... |
It was at six o'clock when we took the kids into early dinner and it was just nearly seven when we put the two very sleepy heads to bed and turned down the light.
Susan was already in the shower by the time I had settled them down and we dressed quietly in semi darkness. We were just about ready by the time Arianna, the baby sitter, appeared at the door to take over her duties.
I had settled on a pair of cream coloured Chinos and a plain open necked shirt as evening wear, whereas Susan had a short white linen skirt and a black silk short sleeved blouse that accentuated her lovely bust. With her hair falling over her shoulders and her high heeled sandals she was a statuesque beauty who I was so proud to have on my arm when we walked into the bar. Suddenly the room went quiet - she has that effect on both men and women alike.
Raoul, Marcus and Clare had bagged a table by the stage and were quick to beckon us over to join them. After two extra chairs were dragged over, and after the usual introductions were made we both sat down around the table with me next to Clare and Susan next to Raoul. Drinks were ordered and we all started talking like old friends.
Clare was a beautiful brown haired young Woman who spoke with a London accent and for all of the time that she sat and talked to me (pee breaks notwithstanding) she never broke physical contact with her Boyfriend Marcus. It was obvious that the young couple were deeply enamoured with each other and that theirs was a very tactile relationship.
Across the table, Susan and Raoul chatted animatedly and their laughter could be occasionally heard above the general conversation and background music. The effect of the drinks and the sight of an excited and happy Susan was having an effect on us both. I could see that she and the big guy were enjoying each other's company and the pronounced outline of her nipples poking through the silk material of her blouse told me all that I needed to know. Susan and Raoul were attracted to each other, and I, along with everyone else in the bar that night, knew it too.
Clare, Marcus and I chatted happily for most of the evening about generalities mostly and I assumed them to be just a normal loving couple on holiday, that is until she dropped a bombshell that changed how I saw them both and Raoul.
"Marcus and I have a little boy about the same age as your daughter," she said to me just as the evening entertainment group of musicians were starting to warm up their instruments.
"Oh that's lovely," I replied, "do you have a babysitter for him."
"Oh no!" she replied, "he's at home. My husband is looking after him."
I thought I had misheard her. "I'm sorry Clare, but did you just say that your husband is looking after your son - at home?"
"That's right David," she replied as she took a sip of her cocktail.
I was in profound shock at hearing this news. How had this cozy arrangement come about? What kind of man is a husband who would look after the child that another man had put in his Wife? Did the man have any pride at all or did he love his Wife so much that he would endure any kind of humiliation?
"Oh dear David; I think I have just traumatised you," said Clare as she stared at me across the table with a compassionate look in her eyes. "But it's all quite normal these days. Maybe I'll explain it all tomorrow."
"Erh yes!"I replied, "that would be erh ...... nice!"
"Okay then! But in the meantime our two amoureux are on the move," she said pointing towards Raoul leading Susan out onto the dancefloor. Clare and Marcus then followed, leaving me to sit alone and watch the four of them and other couples gyrate to badly played bland pop music.
There was no getting away from it; my Wife was enjoying the company of another man. She had been chatting to him all night and now the pair were dancing together in a little world of their own. A world that became smaller as the lights over the dance floor dimmed and couples embraced and pressed their bodies together. Susan and Raoul were no different; his big strong arms wound around her as he eased her against his own hard body and she put her arms around his neck and pressed her breasts onto his chest.
It's an odd feeling for a husband to watch his Wife being seduced. It was clear to me now that this was happening before my eyes and for as much as I love Susan and want her to be happy, I was jealous too. I should have been outraged and cause a scene but I did not because she would have hated that and I knew I would be humiliated in front of everybody anyway. Besides, we had an agreement.
Eventually the lights came on and the music stopped; it was time to go back to the room and let our babysitter Ariana go home. Susan was as tired as I was and needed little persuasion to come back to the room but only after promising to drink with the three of them the following night.
"Clare said something very strange to me tonight," I said, as we walked back to our hotel suite.
Susan yawned and asked, "What was that?"
"She told me that she and Marcus have a little boy," I said, "but get this - he's at home being looked after by her husband."
"Nothing strange about that," she remarked.
"What do you mean?" I exclaimed a little more loudly than I should have at that time of night.
"Clare is Black Owned. She is Marcus's Mistress and they are here to give their little son a brother or sister. Didn't you notice her pretty ankle chain, and I bet there is a nice little ace of spades tattoo somewhere intimate underneath that thin dress she was wearing," she replied as she slipped the room card through the electronic door lock.
We thanked Ariana and looked in at the kids, who had their own little bedroom within the suite; both were fast asleep so we just threw our clothes off and climbed into bed. My head was still spinning with the information I had been given and the surprise of Susan's apparent knowledge of a way of life that I had never even dreamt could exist.
"But her husband," I whispered in the dark, "how does he cope?"
"He's a cuckold Dave," replied Susan between yawns, "and he is probably owned by Marcus too. Lots of couples are doing it to make their marriages happier. You know what they say, 'happy Wife - happy life'."
"Oh that's too complicated for me at this time of night," I said, "but did you have a nice time tonight?"
"Oh yes. Raoul is a nice guy. I hope you didn't mind that I danced with him."
"Not at all," I replied, "but I have one question."
"Can't we just go to sleep," she replied grumpily. "What is it?"
"Is Raoul my replacement?"
