I put down my phone, feeling terribly disappointed. “Bugger,” I said.
“What?” asked Layla. “What did he say?”
I sighed. “The inspection found dry rot,” I said. “A whole lot of it. Kent said we should withdraw our offer immediately, as it’ll cost literally tens of thousands of pounds to deal with.”
Layla stared at me. “So … we’re back to square one.”
“Yup,” I confirmed.
“Well bother!” said Layla. “I really liked that house! I suppose we should start looking at some others, then.”
I nodded. “Kent says he has a few other options lined up. He can show us a couple of them on Wednesday if we like. I’m not sure if Damon will give me the day off, or half a day maybe … but I’ll ask.”
“Okay,” said Layla. “Now, back to Geoff.”
“Oh yes,” I said, recalling our topic of conversation before my phone rang. “Dad says Uncle Geoff’s in town for a conference, and needs somewhere to stay for a couple of nights. He’s offered him the sofa.”
“Comfy,” Layla remarked. “When are we expecting him?”
“Imminently, I think,” I said. “He’s been in his conference all day, but he should be on his way here by now.”
“Do you think I have time for a bath before he gets here?” Layla asked.
“Oh, probably,” I replied. “But it doesn’t matter if he gets here before you’re done. Dad and I can keep him entertained.”
“Okay,” said Layla. “But can you tell me a little about him? So I’m not caught unprepared?”
I shrugged. “He’s 48 years old … wait … sorry, 49. Divorced – twice! Used to be a GP, but got burned out and quit to become a lorry driver of all things. That lasted, oh, five years I think? Then he got back into the medical field, doing hospital administration. He’s a clever chap – very well read – but he has a bit of a wandering eye apparently … hence the ex-wives! Bit of a charming rogue, I suppose. His second wife caught him in bed with his first wife, believe it or not!”
“Wow,” said Layla, looking intrigued. “Okay, well I’m off to have my bath then.”
As she left our bedroom, wearing nothing but her panties, I found myself fretting about Geoff’s visit. When Layla and I visited Grandpa last weekend, within half an hour Layla was naked, and Grandpa was rubbing his genitals all over hers. While Grandpa did have a legitimate reason for getting Layla to shed her clothing, I had little doubt that he had deliberately steered the situation to his own advantage. I could hardly blame him for that; what heterosexual man could look at Layla and not want to see her naked? But that just made me feel all the more worried about Geoff, a notoriously virile and charming man with a track record of infidelity. What cunning plan might he employ in order to get Layla naked and play with her luscious body?
I resolved to be on my guard. Geoff was one man who, I was determined, would not be touching Layla’s pussy – with his penis, fingers, or anything else.
I went downstairs, and found Dad still doing the dishes. “Need any help, Dad?” I asked him.
“No, no,” he said. “I’m almost done, and Geoff should be here very shortly. Hmm – do you want to open up a bottle of wine…?”
I shuddered. “No thank you!” I said. “Last time I did that, Layla ended up giving my reprobate boss a naked lap dance.”
“Ah yes,” said Dad with a chuckle. “Point taken. No wine then. I’m sure Geoff would fancy a can of lager though – would that be acceptable?”
“Sure, I suppose,” I said. Then I sighed.
Dad smiled. “She’s quite a handful, isn’t she?” he remarked.
“Hmm?” I said.
“Got to watch her around other men,” he elaborated.
“Oh,” I said glumly. “Yes. You included, I might add! You’ve always got your hands on her – and your tongue in her mouth. Why I agreed to that, I don’t know…”
Dad shrugged. “What can I say?” he said. “Your wife is a generous woman, and she seems to enjoy it as much as I do. What am I going to do, refuse her? When she’s offering me her lips?”
I sighed. “I know, I know. But do you have to reach into her panties and feel her bottom and pussy while you’re kissing her?”
“I’m sorry, I just can’t resist!” said Dad. “She likes it! She told me she doesn’t mind at all when I do that.”
“I wish she would mind it,” I grumbled.
Dad dried his hands off, then he came over and patted me on the shoulder. “Never mind,” he said sympathetically. “Soon you’ll be in your new house, and I won’t be around for those goodnight and good morning snogs.”
I groaned. “What new house?” I said. “It’s full of dry rot, apparently. Kent’s advised us to withdraw our offer, and it seems like we’d be mad not to. It’ll cost tens of thousands of pounds to fix the dry rot.”
“Oh, that’s awful – I’m sorry,” said Dad. “I’m sure a new house will come along soon. But you know, the two of you are welcome to stay here as long as you like. Your contributions to the monthly mortgage – and other bills – are very helpful, and cheaper for you than they would be in a house of your own.”
“And you’d miss kissing and groping Layla,” I remarked pointedly.
“That I would,” Dad said with a grin.
“I don’t know, Dad,” I said uncomfortably. “I’ve been looking forward to being independent.”
“I know,” he said. “But think about it. Talk it over with Layla; see how she feels about the idea.”
I nodded. “All right,” I agreed. But I really had no intention of continuing to live in Dad’s house indefinitely. I wanted to get Layla away from him as soon as possible; I was really tired of seeing him tongue-kissing her while feeling around inside her panties.
Half an hour later, Dad and I were watching television when the doorbell rang. “Ah, that’ll be Geoff!” said Dad.
I went to the door with Dad, and smiled as Uncle Geoff came in. “Hi Geoff!” I said.
“Lindsay, me old mate!” said Geoff, shaking my hand and clapping my shoulder. He was like a younger, taller, better-looking version of Dad. “Nice to see you. Where’s your lovely bride?”
“Upstairs, having a bath,” I said. “She’ll be down shortly.”
“Good!” he said. “Haven’t seen the two of you since the wedding. Still can’t get that dress of hers out of my head. Wow!” He whistled.
I rolled my eyes, and nodded. “Yes, it was … eye-catching,” I acknowledged. Rather too eye-catching, in my opinion; the vicar had been concentrating so hard on avoiding looking at Layla’s chest that he had muffed half of his lines.
“Have you eaten?” Dad asked. “We’ve had our dinner, but there’s leftover chicken stew if you want it.”
“No, I’m fine thanks,” said Geoff. “I stopped at Wetherspoons on the way here. I’d love a drink though…”
“Carlsberg?” Dad suggested.
Geoff grinned. “You read my mind.”
A few minutes later, we were all sitting in the living room, chatting about the seven wonders of the ancient world, of all things … when Layla entered the room, and the three of us men all forgot how to talk, or breathe.
Now, as much as it pains me to see Layla, wearing some form of inappropriately skimpy clothing or other, getting ogled and catcalled and groped by other men, there is no man on the planet who is prouder of his wife, or more grateful and amazed at how lucky he is, than I am, when Layla walks into a room and all jaws hit the floor. It was with mixed feelings, therefore, that I watched Layla enter the living room wearing nothing but skimpy white panties and a flimsy little sheer blue babydoll nightie.
She giggled, then raised her hand and waved at us, setting her unfettered breasts jiggling beneath the gauzy material of her negligée.
“Layla!” I gasped. “What are you … where did that come from?”
“Daddy bought it for me,” she said, looking down at her chest. “Do you like it?”
“Jesus!” said Geoff.
“Well … yes,” I admitted. “But I’m not sure this was the time or place for its debut!”
“I just had a bath!” said Layla defensively. “I thought I might as well get myself ready for bed, even if I’m staying up for a little while yet.”
“You look amazing!” said Dad. “I think that nightie suits you very well.”
“I agree!” said Geoff. “Goodness – what a lovely surprise!”
“Come and sit down,” said Dad, patting the middle of the sofa, between himself and Geoff.
“Um,” I said, not keen on the idea of Layla sitting between them. “There’s also this chair…” I vainly gestured to the empty armchair to my left, but Layla was already blithely walking over to the sofa.
As she sat down, she smiled up at Geoff. “Hi Geoff,” she said. “How are you?”
I rolled my eyes. Layla was a sucker for compliments, and never seemed to get tired of them. This had served me very well during our courtship, but it was a double-edged sword: other men could very easily catch her attention with a few pretty words. This stemmed, I was sure, from her prepubescent childhood, when her two older brothers, Julian and Clive – both lean and wiry athletes – had teased her routinely for being overweight. Her nickname throughout childhood was ‘Chubbs’, which I thought was terribly cruel. She was fortunately no longer bothered by the name, which Julian and Clive both still used for her on occasion, but she did still seem to crave kind words about her appearance.
Geoff chuckled. “You’re a lucky man, Rory, to have such a beautiful daughter-in-law living with you.”
“Don’t I know it!” Dad agreed. “I’m ever so fond of her. She’s brightened this house up no end – and she gives me the most wonderful goodnight kisses!”
“Oh yes?” said Geoff, intrigued. “Well, enjoy it while it lasts. I’m sure they’ll be flying the nest pretty soon.”
“Perhaps,” said Dad. “The house they were hoping to buy has turned out to be riddled with dry rot, unfortunately.”
“That’s a shame,” said Geoff. “Still, plenty of other houses out there.”
“I was saying to Lindsay, though,” Dad continued, “they’d be quite welcome to carry on living here, as long as they want. Cheaper for them, cheaper for me … and I’d certainly enjoy having them around.”
“Really?” Layla asked.
“We can talk about this later,” I said hastily. I did not want Layla getting too keen on the idea.
“Oh, the two of them need their own place!” said Geoff, unexpectedly taking my side. “They need room to breathe, to grow … to raise their own family…”
“Yes!” I agreed. “Layla and I are very much looking forward to starting a family.”
Geoff laughed. “Well, she’s certainly wearing the right outfit to put you in the mood for it! I’m surprised you aren’t grabbing her by the hand and dragging her upstairs!”
Layla and I both blushed.
“They’re actually very discreet,” said Dad. “I never hear a peep out of them after they’ve gone to bed.”
“Ah,” said Geoff, nodding. “That’s very considerate of them, to keep it quiet for your benefit.”
I blushed even harder, and said nothing. We were quiet, of course, because we were not having sex at all. But I had no intention of sharing that with Dad and Uncle Geoff.
“Yes, I suppose it is,” said Dad. “Although there’s no need – it wouldn’t bother me at all. Good, wholesome activity – and I enjoy imagining Layla pregnant with my first grandchild.”
Geoff chuckled. “I think you’re making them uncomfortable, Rory.”
Layla laughed. “I don’t mind,” she said. “I like imagining being pregnant too! I’m looking forward to it.” She smiled fondly at me.
This gave me the courage to be uncharacteristically candid. “And I’m looking forward to getting you pregnant!” I blurted out.
Dad and Geoff both laughed. “How do you know she isn’t already?” Geoff teased me.
“Well I … uh…” I stammered.
“Are you actively trying?” Geoff inquired. “Sorry, I know it’s a personal question, but it’s sort of my field…”
“We’re … I’m not on the pill…” said Layla carefully.
Geoff nodded. “Do you have a good GP?” he asked. “And do you have a good obstetrician and gynaecologist yet? If not, you should really work on that – a lot of them are overloaded and not taking new patients at the moment…”
“Um,” I said, “Layla’s GP is in London – we haven’t actually got around to transferring her to mine…”
“I’m afraid I’ve always been a little anxious about going to the doctor,” Layla confessed.
“Oh!” said Geoff. “Well, you should really … when was your last checkup?”
Layla bit her lip. “When I was … fifteen?” she hazarded.
“Goodness!” said Geoff, seeming rather shocked. “Have you ever had a pelvic exam? A breast exam?”
Layla shook her head. “Never,” she confessed. “I … it’s not that I’m shy … obviously. It’s just that I’ve always had a bit of a fear of doctors and hospitals. Ever since I was little. I was in a hospital when I was five, going to the doctor with my mum … and I was playing in the corridor when this door opened, and a man in a hospital gown came staggering out, puking up blood. It terrified me, and gave me nightmares for years.”
“Good heavens!” said Dad. “How awful for you!”
I had heard the story before, but it was just as disturbing this time. “I’ll be there with you,” I promised her.
“It’s a shame I gave up my practice,” Geoff remarked. “I’d have loved having you as a patient, Layla.”
Dad snorted. “You’d certainly enjoy giving her a breast exam, I’m sure,” he said.
Geoff grinned down at Layla’s chest. “Who wouldn’t? And heck, Layla, I’d be more than happy to give you one now, if you’re nervous about going to the doctor for it. I’m no longer licensed, but I’m perfectly capable of doing breast exams. At the very least, I can give you an idea of what to expect, and if there are any issues, I’ll find them.”
“What sort of issues?” I asked nervously.
“He means lumps,” said Layla. “Breast cancer.”
Geoff nodded. “Regular exams are important. Best to catch these things as early as possible.” He took hold of one of the strings tying the two sides of Layla’s negligée together, and began to tug on it gently.
Layla looked over at me. “Maybe I should…?” she said. “Even if I have to go to a doctor for a breast exam anyway … it would be nice to be sure that he or she won’t find anything.”
I could see the wisdom in this, but I was not keen on the hungry look Geoff was giving Layla’s chest as he continued pulling on the string. As the loop of narrow ribbon closed, then popped through the knot, the flimsy nightie fell open a little. Geoff hooked a finger around the loosely intertwined strings, and deftly pulled downwards, untangling them. “It won’t take long,” he said. “Then you’ll have some peace of mind.”
“I don’t know,” I said unhappily. “Why does it have to be here, and now?” I had resolved not to let anything like this happen … and yet there was Geoff, about to expose and fondle my wife’s breasts!
“No time like the present,” said Geoff. “Why wait?”
“I just,” I protested feebly. “I think…”
But Geoff was already pulling the two sides of Layla’s nightie apart. “Let’s have a look at these beauties,” he said.
By rights, Layla should have been outraged that my uncle had basically just undressed her. But she simply giggled! And then turned toward him!
“Here, you can lean back against me,” said Dad, turning himself, then taking hold of her shoulders.
Layla leaned back against Dad’s chest, and Geoff took hold of her breasts with his big, powerful hands. As he gently massaged them, Layla looked over at me, and smiled. I gave her a half-hearted smile in response, but I was not happy about how casually and easily he had talked her into a breast exam. Nor about how relaxed and contented Layla seemed to be, given that my uncle was fondling her breasts – and not in a particularly professional manner!
“God, these things are perfect,” he was saying, while squeezing and caressing them, and rubbing her nipples with his thumbs. Was this how a breast exam was supposed to look? I somehow doubted it.
Layla giggled. “Are you checking for lumps?” she asked. Clearly she was not fooled any more than I was, but she seemed far less bothered by it.
Geoff cleared his throat. “Sorry,” he said. “That was just a preliminary visual and tactile inspection. This is the exam.” And he proceeded to carefully knead every part of both breasts, even feeling up into her armpits. This part did look professional, and it made me feel a little better.
“Let me get this off your shoulders,” said Dad, pulling Layla’s negligée down her arms. After she had extracted her hands from the arm-holes, he folded up the garment and then tossed it behind him.
“All clear!” said Geoff finally. “Not only are your breasts possibly the most gorgeous I’ve ever seen, Layla … they are also perfectly healthy.”
“Thank you!” said Layla happily. “That’s a relief to hear.”
“Now,” Geoff continued, “if you like, I can do the same for your nether regions. I dare say a pelvic exam, given by someone you know and in the comfort of your own home, might be less of an ordeal than one given in a stark and clinical doctor’s office, by an unfamiliar gynaecologist, with medical posters adorning the walls around you.”
A pelvic exam?? Now he was blatantly trying to get his fingers inside Layla? This was exactly what I was hoping to avoid!
“Look!” I protested. “A breast exam is one thing, but a pelvic exam … that’s way more intimate!”
“Yes it is,” Geoff agreed. “Which is precisely why it would be more pleasant for Layla to have it here.”
“But she’ll have to have a professional one in a gynaecologist’s office anyway!” I objected.
“And you want her to have to go through that unprepared?” Geoff inquired? “Naked, afraid, in the hands of a stranger? Without knowing what to expect?”
Blood rushed into my cheeks. “No, of course not,” I said.
Geoff reached out and took hold of the sides of Layla’s panties. “Let’s get these off you,” he said, slowly pulling them down her hips.
Layla stared at him, wide-eyed, her breasts rising and falling as she breathed deeply. But she made no move to stop him, and I mournfully speculated that on some level at least, she was excited and aroused by being undressed by Geoff, knowing what he was planning to do to her.
“Lift your bottom,” he instructed her, and at this point she hesitated, looking over at me.
I was surprised. She was asking for my permission. I had expected her simply to comply, to let Uncle Geoff take her panties off, spread her legs, and stick his fingers in her. But no – she wanted my permission to proceed. That was unexpected, and heartwarming.
But it was also stressful. If I gave her permission, I would be consenting to everything that would inevitably follow: the indecent exposure of her pussy, the groping, the fingering. But if I refused, then I would be giving Layla the message that my discomfort with the situation was more important to me than her well-being, and her level of anxiety during her future visit to a gynaecologist.
I knew what I had to do. Doing it, though, was hard. Pursing my lips, I gave Layla a slight nod. That nod would, I was sure, cause me a lot of distress over the next few minutes, but I felt I had to put Layla’s needs first.
She instantly looked relieved, and happy. Lifting her bottom off the sofa, she leaned back harder against Dad’s chest as Geoff pulled her panties around her buttocks, then down her thighs. He reached down over the front of the sofa, scooped up Layla’s legs, and swung them on to his lap. Then he pulled her panties down to her ankles, and over her feet. Grinning at her naked pussy, he tossed her panties to the edge of the room.
Layla was now naked, and angled a little awkwardly. “Let me change position,” said Dad, kicking his slippers off. “Can you sit up, Layla?” As she did so, he lifted his left leg up behind her, turning toward her and inserting his leg between her and the back of the sofa. “There,” he said, reclining against the armrest behind him. “You can lie back against me.”
As Layla lay back, Geoff lifted her knees up and apart, spreading her thighs and exposing her vaginal opening to his gaze. A dizzy sensation came over me, and nausea gripped my stomach, as I watched Geoff gleefully bend over my wife’s pussy, raising his fingers to plunge them inside her.
But first he popped his index and middle fingers into his mouth, wetting them with his saliva. Then he lowered them, and placed them on Layla’s pussy. “First,” he said, “we need to get you nice and juicy inside, so it will feel pleasurable rather than painful when I insert my fingers.” He started gently rubbing her vulva, avoiding her clitoris for the most part, as Layla tilted her head back and closed her eyes.
“Rory,” said Geoff, “if you wouldn’t mind helping, a nice breast massage will also help to get her juices flowing.”
Dad smiled, and reached around Layla to grasp her breasts in his hands. Sensuously caressing and kneading them, he trapped her nipples between his fingers, pinching them softly. Layla moaned.
Geoff was now stroking her clitoris directly. Layla was arching her back, Dad was massaging her breasts, and I … I was sitting in my armchair, hunched over, fists clenched, watching my dad and his brother pleasuring my wife. It was not fun, and as much as I wanted to look away, I kept telling myself that it was important for me to know everything that was going on.
It was taking a toll on me, though, this kind of thing. The mental images of Kent fingering Layla, Layla bouncing up and down on Damon’s lap, Grandpa’s naked body lying on top of Layla’s, and thrusting away … they haunted my dreams and my waking thoughts. Whenever I tried to masturbate, I would try to imagine Layla beneath me, begging me to enter her, telling me how good it felt … but every time, without fail, some horrible image of Kent or Damon or Grandpa would pop into my head, ruining my fantasy and sending my temperamental cock back to shrivelled sleep. I had not been able to cum in almost two weeks now, and Layla, out of politeness and sympathetic understanding, had stopped offering me hand-jobs.
Geoff now slid his two fingers into Layla’s vagina, pushing them deep, eliciting a sigh of pleasure from her, and a mini-retch from me, which I turned into an unnecessarily elaborate throat-clearing. Sickened, I turned my head away … but after a few moments, I realised that this was rather cowardly of me. Reluctantly I turned back, and saw that Geoff was now slowly thrusting his fingers in and out of Layla, while she sighed and moaned with pleasure.
“Is this a valid part of the pelvic exam?” I asked uncomfortably.
“No,” Geoff replied – a startlingly candid admission. “Right now I’m just taking my time, pleasuring Layla, helping her to become at ease with this situation. The more she enjoys it, the less traumatic it will be … and the less she will dread going to a licensed gynaecologist. You want her to enjoy this experience, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I conceded, my stomach churning.
“Then would you agree,” he went on, “that I should take my time, and focus on giving Layla pleasure, and not worry too much about getting on with the exam?”
“I … I suppose so,” I said miserably, hating the fact that I was giving him the go-ahead to molest my wife without even examining her. I could hardly argue with his reasoning, though – it was sound enough.
Meanwhile, Dad was still fondling Layla’s breasts. “What a perfect body my daughter-in-law has,” he sighed. “It’s such a privilege to fondle her like this.”
“It is indeed,” Geoff agreed. “Now, let’s give her a nice orgasm.” He started rubbing her clitoris with his free hand, and increased the speed of his thrusting fingers.
Layla’s moans quickly escalated in pitch and volume, and her body began to writhe uncontrollably. For two whole minutes her arousal intensified, until with a scream of ecstasy she arched her back up high above the sofa, while Geoff continued rapidly finger-fucking her. After a while he slowed down, and Layla collapsed like a rag doll on his lap.
“Whew!” said Geoff, pulling his fingers out of her and sucking them clean. “Seems like you enjoyed that, eh Layla?”
“Yes!” she gasped, sweat beading on her brow. Her whole body was glowing with passion; her pussy lips were puffy and swollen.
“Well, you can just lie there and recover for a while,” said Geoff. “Anyone fancy watching some telly?”
Dad pulled up YouTube and began to browse. “Would I Lie to You?” he suggested.
“I don’t know,” said Geoff. “Would you?”
“I mean the programme!” said Dad. “Have you ever watched it?”
“Can’t say I have,” Geoff replied indifferently.
“Oh, you’ll like it,” said Dad. And so for the next hour or so, we watched Rob Brydon et al. as they quipped their way through round after round of their amusing parlour game.
All the while, Layla remained naked, leaning back on Dad with her legs, slightly spread, resting on Geoff’s lap. Geoff’s hand remained on her pussy, occasionally stroking it slowly and sensuously, while Dad’s hands remained on her breasts, gently massaging them from time to time.
I remained in my armchair, pretending not to notice. It was not that I had lost the will to object to their cavalier treatment of my wife … it was more a case of inaction being the less stressful path. How would I even justify a complaint at this point? Nothing they were doing was different from what they had been doing before, with my permission. Indeed it was less bad. My main objection was that it was going on, and on, without stopping … but the longer it went on, the more foolish I was going to feel if I suddenly said, “Hey! What are you doing?”
For a few moments I was inclined to be upset at Layla for permitting the groping to go on like this. But after brooding on this for a while, I realised that she was probably in the same boat as me: how could she object now, when she had not objected to worse than this before? So I began to feel sorry for her instead. And to feel guilty that I had been dwelling on how this was all negatively impacting my own well-being, without considering how it was affecting Layla’s.
I sneaked a peek at Layla, just in time to see Geoff reinserting his fingers into her vagina, having pushed her knees apart again. Somehow, during the last few minutes and without my noticing, he had moved a few inches to his right, and lifted Layla’s bottom on to his lap. He looked over at me, and I hastily averted my eyes, not wanting him to think I had seen what he was doing, and done nothing about it.
Five minutes later, at the end of an episode, I resolutely turned back to face Geoff. He was now slowly thrusting two fingers of his left hand in and out of Layla’s vagina, while rubbing her clitoris with the fingers of his right hand. She was moaning softly, her eyes closed.
“Good grief!” I snapped. “Can’t you leave her alone, Geoff? You’ve made your point with the pelvic exam; enough is enough!”
He chuckled. “It’s all part of the desensitisation process, Lindsay,” he said. “The more Layla gets used to feeling a doctor’s fingers inside her, and the more positive an experience she has with that feeling, the more she’ll enjoy going to the gynaecologist. But if it bothers you so much, I will certainly stop.” He pulled his fingers out.
“Thank you,” I said, a little surprised that he had stopped so easily.
“Well, I think I’ll go to bed,” said Dad. “I’ll fetch some blankets for you, Geoff.”
“Thank you,” said Geoff. “It’s a little early for me to be going to bed though; do you two youngsters fancy watching a film with me?”
“That sounds nice,” said Layla, sitting up and swinging her legs off the sofa. “Perhaps I should put my panties back on, though, otherwise you’ll be fingering me all the way through!” She giggled.
I ground my teeth at this; Layla was no doubt correct, and I was glad she was taking action to prevent Geoff from continuing to finger her, but I was not happy with how lightheartedly she was treating his casual molestation of her vagina. It confirmed for me that she really did not mind him doing it.
Or did it? Perhaps she was simply trying not to antagonise him by making a fuss about it, and choosing the most diplomatic path to preventing him from continuing. Yes, this was likely it.
“No need for that,” said Geoff cheerfully, however. “I was going to take an armchair, so the two of you can cuddle up on the sofa.”
This was so unexpected that my jaw dropped open. “Oh!” I said in surprise. “That sounds … brilliant!”
Dad left the room, Geoff got up from the sofa, and I sat down next to Layla. As she snuggled up to me, she said in a low voice, “Maybe you can finger me during the film instead!”
I laughed nervously. “Um, I don’t know about that,” I said. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable doing that in front of Geoff.”
“Why not?” she inquired. “He didn’t hesitate to do it in front of you.”
“I know,” I replied. “But I’m not like Geoff!”
“No,” she said, nodding. “You aren’t.” She kissed my cheek. “And I love you just the way you are.”
I smiled at her, happy to hear those words. “I love you too,” I said.
I put my arm around her, and she snuggled up to me. And that is how we watched Slug Feast, a rather terrible horror movie that we found on Netflix and decided might be amusing. It was not; indeed it was quite disgusting, and I cringed to see the horrific fates that befell some of the female characters.
As the end credits rolled, I turned to Layla. “I’m so sorry, darling,” I apologised. “That must have been such uncomfortably viewing for you!”
She laughed. “A bit!” she admitted. “But I’m fine – really. It was just a movie.”
I nodded. “Shall we go and get ready for bed?”
“Absolutely,” she said. Getting up from the sofa, she retrieved her panties and negligée from the floor, and put them back on. “Goodnight, Geoff.”
“Goodnight, Layla!” said Geoff, smiling. “And goodnight Lindsay. Sleep well, both of you.”
Layla and I went upstairs, and got ready for bed. Afterwards, as we lay in bed and cuddled, we could hear Geoff taking a shower.
“Quite a character, isn’t he?” said Layla.
I shrugged. “I suppose. Women certainly seem to like him.”
Layla said nothing for a moment. Then, “I’m sorry I didn’t try to, you know, stop him…”
“It’s okay,” I assured her. “I’m not upset with you. I mean, clearly you enjoyed what he did to you, because he’s apparently good with his fingers. But just as clearly, he was taking advantage of you. I’m sure he was right that it’ll help prepare you for your next visit to the doctor or whatever, but he needn’t have taken it so far. He was obviously just having some fun with you – but there was never a clear line between fingering that was benefiting you, and fingering that was just for his own pleasure. I don’t blame you for not knowing when to tell him to stop. Heck, I didn’t know, and my judgment wasn’t being impaired by having my private parts stimulated!”
Layla kissed my shoulder. “Thank you,” she said. “It means a lot that you’re so understanding.”
I gave her a squeeze. “Likewise,” I replied. “You’ve been extremely understanding about my, um, lack of ability … to … um…”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” she said. “And … I was wondering … do you maybe want to go and see someone about it? Like, a sex therapist?”
I shuddered. “Layla, I don’t want to discuss our sex lives with some stranger! I’ll fix it … I’ll get better. In fact, let me try again now – I’m sure I can…”
“Hush,” she whispered, stroking my back. “Don’t try to force it – you know that won’t work. Don’t pressure yourself. Just take your time, and when you next get horny, let me know, okay?”
I slowly relaxed. “Okay,” I said, sighing with resignation and relief. “Good plan.”
Half an hour later, I was lying wide awake, while Layla slept beside me. I reached out for my phone, picked it up, and switched it on. I googled ‘sex therapists near me’, and scanned the results with a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. Then I switched to YouTube, did a quick search for ‘busty secretary downblouse’, and pumped my cock while I watched one of the results. Layla stirred, and I stopped. Then I quietly slipped out of bed, and went to the bathroom. There, I took my cock out, massaged it back to life, and pumped it until it was fully erect. At last! Now, if only it would stay up…
I left the bathroom, only to hear footsteps coming up the stairs. I froze, and my erection collapsed. Then Geoff appeared. He looked surprised to see me. “Hi Lindsay,” he said in a low voice. “Can’t you sleep?”
“No, I, um,” I said, flustered. “I just needed the loo.”
He nodded. “Well, I’m glad you’re up. It seems I can’t get to sleep on that sofa – it’s just too short for me. I can’t get comfortable, and it’s just going to kill my back, I know, if I have to spend the night on it.”
“Oh dear!” I said. “I’m sorry to hear that, Geoff. Would the floor be any better…?”
He grimaced. “Too hard, even with blankets. I tried it.”
“Oh,” I said, not sure what else to suggest.
But Geoff, it seemed, had an idea of his own. “I hate to ask this of you, Lindsay,” he said, “but could you maybe take the sofa instead? You’re shorter than I am; perhaps you’d find it more comfortable.”
I was rather taken aback. “Um,” I said, “well … I have actually slept on that sofa before … but heck, Geoff, I’m sleeping with Layla now! Can’t you ask Dad to swap with you?”
“He’s almost as tall as I am,” said Geoff. “And he went to bed ages ago – I’m sure he’s long asleep, and I don’t want to wake him up.”
“But you can’t swap with me!” I told him in exasperation. “Where would Layla sleep?”
Geoff shrugged. “She doesn’t need to move.”
I now saw where he was going with this. “Geoff!” I said sternly. “Do you really expect me to let you sleep in the same bed as my wife??”
“Why not?” he asked. “It’s just for one night, Lindsay – I’ll figure out another option for tomorrow. And I’ll try to disturb her sleep as little as possible. I’m a pretty quiet sleeper, I believe.”
“That’s not the point!” I said hotly. “You’ll … you’ll finger her! And worse, probably!”
Geoff smiled, and laid a hand on my shoulder. “Lindsay,” he said. “Yes, I’ll probably finger her. How could I resist? But I’ve been doing that all evening, and you barely batted an eyelid. A little more fingering isn’t going to make much difference – to you or to her. But if you’re worried about me fucking her – which I could understand, given my track record – let me assure you that I am no rapist. I’m not going to try to fuck her in her sleep. Heck, I wouldn’t fuck her at all without permission; that’s not my way. And honestly, I won’t finger her for very long. What I really need is sleep, and I intend to get plenty of it, in that bed of yours. So come on – do your uncle a favour, eh? Please?”
I wrung my hands together in anguish. “Geoff,” I said plaintively, “I … I can’t let you. What kind of a husband would I be…”
“A trusting one?” he suggested. “Come on, Lindsay, have a heart. That sofa will be the death of my back. Let me sleep in your bed, with Layla.”
“But what if she wakes up?” I said desperately. “And finds you in bed with her? She’ll be scared!”
“Crikey, mate,” said Geoff. “You don’t think I’d get in bed with her without her permission, do you?”
“But she’s asleep!” I protested.
“I’m sorry about that,” said Geoff. “But she won’t be all that deeply asleep yet. Let’s wake her up, and ask her if she’s okay with you and me swapping beds for the night. If she objects, I’ll go back downstairs and just suffer through a sleepless night.”
I thought it highly likely that Layla would not be thrilled to be woken up, and this would make her less than sympathetic to Geoff’s plight. “All right, let’s ask her,” I grumbled. “See what she thinks.”
“Thanks Lindsay,” said Geoff. “You’re a saint.”
We quietly entered the master bedroom, and I went around to Layla’s side of the bed.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“Oh – you’re awake!” I whispered in surprise.
“I heard you and Geoff talking,” she said sleepily. “Wass going on?” She propped herself up on one elbow, then reached over and switched on her bedside light. Squinting up at me, then at Geoff, she blinked a couple of times, and rubbed her eyes.
“Geoff,” I said, “insists he can’t sleep on the sofa. It’s too short, he says, and it’ll be back for his back.”
Layla swayed slightly, her eyes half-closing. “That’s no good,” she muttered. “Does he want another pillow or something?”
“He wants to sleep in this bed,” I told her grimly, “with you.”
“Oh!” said Layla in surprise. She blinked again, and sat up straight. Then she looked up at Geoff, her brow furrowed. “Are you serious?” she asked. “What about Lindsay?”
“He can have the sofa,” said Geoff. “I know it’s a pain, but it’ll just be for one night, and I think he’ll cope with the sofa better than I. He’s shorter, for one thing, and younger – he doesn’t have my back issues.”
“And you want to sleep in here … with me?” Layla asked, as if hardly believing it. I was having a hard time with it myself.
“Yes,” said Geoff. “If that’s okay with you.”
Layla turned to me, with a quizzical expression. “Is it okay with you?” she inquired.
“Not really!” I replied candidly. “But I said I’d check with you. I suppose I’ll survive a night on the sofa if I have to. But I don’t like to think of Geoff sleeping with you.”
“Yeah, I’m not surprised,” she said. “Will he behave himself?”
“No!” I replied indignantly. “He says he’ll definitely be fingering you!”
Layla looked up at Geoff, smirking a little. “Of course he will,” she said. But then she shrugged. “But he’s done plenty of that already. What the heck, I don’t care. As long as he lets me get some sleep.” She lay back down, and closed her eyes.
I stared at her, shocked. I had been hoping she would point blank refuse – and then I would have been off the hook. I could have said to Geoff, “I’m sorry; I tried.” But apparently Layla was okay with it! And now … it was really going to happen. Geoff was going to spend the night with her, in our marital bed, and I was being banished to the living room sofa.
Geoff was already climbing into my side of the bed. “Much appreciated, both of you!” he said, pulling back the duvet to uncover Layla. He grasped her panties, and began pulling them down. “You won’t be needing these!” he said, with a dirty chuckle. Layla did not resist as he tugged them all the way down to her feet, then tossed them off the bed. “Might as well get rid of the nightie too…” He tugged on one of the ribbons, untying the bow at the front. Then Layla, with a little giggle, partially sat up in order to help him get it off her. The negligée followed her panties on to the floor.
Geoff now took hold of Layla’s knees, pushing them up and apart, exposing her vaginal opening to his lustful eyes. But then he looked up at me. “Still here, Lindsay?” he said. “You don’t need to be. Run along now.”
“Right,” I said, shaken out of my paralysis. “Um … goodnight, darling.”
“Goodnight babe!” she replied, gasping as Geoff sank two fingers back into her vagina.
I almost bent down to kiss her, but then decided against it, and simply turned and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind me. Feeling rather hurt and bereft, I went down the stairs, entered the living room, and lay down on the sofa, pulling the blankets over me.
Sleep proved elusive. It was not that the sofa was uncomfortable – actually I found a very comfy position quite quickly – but it is hard to settle one’s mind when one knows that one’s wife is currently being fingered by another man. For ten minutes, I thought that I had probably never been more miserable than I was right now.
But then, it got worse. I began to hear sounds coming from directly above me: the rhythmic squeaking of the bed in our room, a low rhythmic grunting that I assumed belonged to Geoff, and the higher-pitched, excited moans of Layla.
I clamped my hands to my ears. I knew what was happening, of course: Geoff was rubbing his cock up and down her pussy! Just like Damon and Grandpa had done with her. And Layla was too sleepy to stop him, no doubt. Not that she likely wanted to stop him; it sounded like she was enjoying herself immensely.
Why had I not refused Geoff’s request outright? I would have been justified in doing so. He had asked to sleep with my wife! I had been under absolutely no obligation to agree. And now I was bitterly regretting my generosity. That was it: I was just too nice for my own good. I had been swayed by my concern for Geoff’s back and for his sleep, and consequently I had let him take my place in bed with my beloved Layla. And now he was probably on top of her, his naked body on hers, her legs wrapped around him, his cock thrusting against her pussy, rubbing her clit, bringing her pleasure that I could not…
I angrily wiped a tear from my cheek. It was only one night! I just had to get through this night, and then things would be back to normal. Just one night.
The creaking of the bed, and the moaning and groaning, went on for another ten minutes. I was beyond livid by this point; I was on the verge of marching upstairs to physically pull Geoff off Layla, kick him out of our bedroom, and barricade the door.
But then, after a long groan from Geoff, the creaking finally stopped. Shortly after that, I heard muffled voices, briefly, but could not make out any words. And then, aside from an occasional creak, there was silence.
It may sound odd, but I went to sleep quite quickly after that – perhaps because, having concluded that Layla and Geoff had finished pleasuring each other, my subconscious mind figured that further vigilance was unnecessary.
I awoke the next morning to find Dad standing over me. “Morning!” he said, sounding surprised. “What are you doing here?”
I yawned, and the memories of last night came crashing back. “Ugh,” I said with a shudder. “Geoff couldn’t sleep on this sofa. Somehow he persuaded me to swap places for the night.”
“What?” asked Dad, stunned. “And … Layla?”
“Yes!” I said irritably. “He slept with her. And, if you please, undressed and started fingering her as soon as he got into bed with her – even before I’d left the room!”
“Oh wow,” said Dad heavily. “Bad luck, Lindsay. I … I don’t know what to say.”
I shrugged. “There’s nothing to say. It was just for one night.”
The sound of creaking resumed above us. Dad looked at me aghast, as the sound of the bed springs was joined by low- and high-pitched moaning. “Oh Lindsay…” he said, his face tragic.
“I know what you’re thinking!” I said hastily. “But that’s not what they’re doing. They’re just … um … having a bit of … fun … without actually … you know.”
Dad’s brow furrowed. “Lindsay, I hate to break it to you, but that’s the sound of two people having sex. Geoff is up there screwing your wife right now.”
My blood ran cold at the idea. “No he isn’t!” I insisted. “I saw it for myself, with Grandpa! Geoff’s just rubbing his cock on Layla’s pussy, really hard and fast. It’s enough to get both of them off, but although it looks and sounds like real sex … it isn’t!”
Dad gave me a long, sympathetic look. Then he nodded. “My mistake,” he said. “Obviously you know Layla better than I do. I’m happy to take your word for it. But … Grandpa? Really?”
I felt embarrassed. “Layla felt sorry for him, I think. Just wanted to do something nice for him.”
Dad chuckled, shaking his head. “She has a heart of gold, that girl of yours,” he said. “I still can’t believe she lets me French-kiss her multiple times a day, and fondle her breasts, bottom and pussy while I do it. Or that you tolerate it.”
“What choice do I have?” I grumbled. “It’s not like I enjoy seeing you do all that with her. But she’s a free spirit! She’s flirtatious, and exhibitionistic, and generous with her body … and that’s the woman I fell in love with. I can’t expect her to become someone else, just because the behaviour that I loved about her is now causing me heartache. I just have to learn to accept it when she does things like … well, like this.” I pointed upwards.
“You think that’s possible?” Dad asked sceptically.
“It has to be,” I said firmly. “The alternative is to go mad with jealousy.”
Dad smirked. “So you’ll have no objection if I feel up Layla’s pussy when she comes down?”
I shuddered. “I’d rather you didn’t!” I said. “But after everything I’ve said … no, I can’t object to that. But don’t expect me to say ‘Sure, go ahead Dad, have fun feeling my wife’s pussy!’ Because that would be really weird and degrading.”
Dad nodded. “I understand,” he said. “But Lindsay … what if the thing Layla wants from you – or needs from you, perhaps – is for you to take charge and claim her as your own? To march upstairs and into your room, and say ‘Hey Geoff! Get off my wife!’ You know … maybe if you stood up for yourself, she’d think more highly of you, and would be more cautious about what she lets other men do with her?”
The thought was intriguing. But it would involve a fairly stressful confrontation. “I don’t know, Dad,” I said uncomfortably. “What if it goes horribly wrong?”
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” said Dad with a shrug.
It was a trite old axiom, but it struck a chord. I clenched my fists. “You’re right,” I said firmly. “Wish me luck, Dad – I’m going upstairs to reclaim my wife!”
“That’s the spirit!” he said encouragingly.
I ascended that stairs two at a time, and burst into the master bedroom. And there was Geoff, on the bed on his knees, grasping Layla’s hips as he faced mostly away from me. She was on her knees and elbows in front of him, her breasts swinging as he pounded her buttocks with his hips.
“Hey!” I said commandingly. “Geoff! Stop that!”
“Not now, Lindsay!” he responded. “Give me five minutes.”
My instinct was to retreat and wait five minutes … but not today! Today I had come to fight! “No, Geoff!” I said forcefully. “I order you to stop doing that with my wife!”
“Order?” Geoff inquired, sounding a little breathless. “Lindsay, calm down. You’re obviously upset and I get it, I really do. And we can talk about this all you want … in five minutes! Now piss off, before I lose my momentum and this takes another half-hour.”
I wavered. Confrontation was never my strong suit. But I was fired up, and I was not about to let him dictate all the terms. “Two minutes!” I countered. “Finish up in two minutes, or don’t finish at all!”
“Fine,” he replied, without having looked around or altered his pace in the slightest.
Satisfied, I went back downstairs. “I gave him a two-minute warning,” I reported to Dad.
He stared at me. Then he pursed his lips for a moment, and said, “Good job, Lindsay. That’s the ticket.”
Two minutes passed. And then two more. “I think maybe they’re getting close…?” Dad suggested. Based on the increase in the pitch of Layla’s moans, and the apparent speed of their movements, I was inclined to agree.
Three or four minutes after that, it was over. Finally! I sat down on the sofa – I had been pacing back and forth until now – and waited for Layla and Geoff to appear.
Layla came down first – about five minutes later, and wearing nothing but a clean white pair of panties. “Wow!” said Dad, looking her up and down appreciatively. “Going topless now? I love it!”
Layla giggled. “Geoff’s idea,” she said. Then, as Dad took her into his arms, she leaned back. “Have you brushed your teeth?”
“I have,” he confirmed. “I learned my lesson!” And he leaned forward, kissing her on the lips. I looked away in disgust, grinding my teeth … but after a few moments I decided I really had to force myself to get used to this. To accept it. So I turned back, and watched with a sick feeling as Dad slid his hand down inside the front of her panties. Layla, her mouth full of Dad’s tongue, uttered a muffled moan as he played with her pussy. Then he pushed his hand further down, and I guessed he was inserting a finger into her vagina.
Layla broke off from the kiss, panting, and her eyes opened briefly. She caught my eye, and I half-smiled, but her eyes rolled back and closed again, and she moaned with pleasure as Dad rapidly slid his finger in and out of her. “Oh god…” she whispered.
Then Dad pulled his hand out of her panties, looked at his finger with a frown, and then grimaced. Crossing the room, he pulled a tissue out of the Kleenex box, and wiped his finger. I wondered what he had seen. Blood? Was her period starting? I had really no idea of when her last one was.
Layla walked over to me, bent down, and gave me a kiss on the lips. “Good morning, husband,” she said, before straightening up. “I’m going to have some breakfast. See you both in the kitchen?”
“Yup,” said Dad, and I nodded.
As I sat down at the breakfast table with my Frosties, Layla was at the counter, preparing herself some toast and jam. Then Geoff entered the room, wearing a t-shirt and his underwear. He walked up to Layla and gave her a slap on her left buttock, making her squeal and giggle. Then he hugged her from behind, and leaned over her shoulder. As she looked up at him, he kissed her, and the two of them tongue-wrestled for an unnecessarily long time. Although their backs were to me, I was fairly sure he was fondling her breasts with one hand during the kiss, while rubbing her pussy with the other hand.
I could not wait for him to leave.
He came over and sat down opposite me. “Morning Lindsay,” he said. “How did you sleep?”
“Fine,” I replied, frowning at him.
He nodded. “Good. Because I have to say, I slept like a baby. That bed is so comfortable! And I was thinking … I know I said it would be for just one night, but I’d really like to keep the same sleeping arrangements for tonight, if that’s okay.”
I stared at him. “Geoff!” I exclaimed. “You can’t expect me to give up the bed I share with Layla two nights in a row!”
“Why not?” he asked. “It’s only one more night. Then I have to go back to Watford, and I’ll be out of your hair for … oh, who knows how long? But for tonight, at least, I’d like another good sleep, and of course the pleasure of Layla’s company.” He looked up at Layla, who was staring at him, and winked.
I was by now very upset. “Geoff, I know you were rubbing your cock on Layla’s pussy last night,” I said, struggling to get the words out. I swallowed, and held my eyes open, hoping to dry out the moisture I could feel forming there. “I … I don’t like that, and I don’t want you to do it again.”
Geoff gave me a long look, and then he smiled. “Lindsay, if I promise not to do that tonight, will you let me sleep with Layla?”
I hesitated. I did not want him to sleep with Layla at all, of course. But I didn’t want him to sleep with her last night, either, and yet somehow I let myself get talked into it. This might be the best deal I would get.
“Okay,” I said reluctantly. “If Layla doesn’t mind.”
Geoff looked up at Layla, who blushed. “I don’t mind,” she said quietly.
“Excellent!” said Geoff. “Well, I can’t promise not to rub my cock on your wife, Lindsay – it’s just far too much fun – but for your sake, I’ll try to keep it to a minimum. Good enough?”
“Not really!” I protested, feeling like I was playing a game in which my opponent kept changing the rules to suit himself. “I want a promise! Or no deal!”
Geoff smiled. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep,” he said. “But think about it, Lindsay. Layla had a lot of fun with me last night, and frankly, she wants more of the same tonight. Are you going to deprive her of that? Are you going to cause her to resent you? And before you answer that, consider this. If you genuinely feel that you can give her a better time in bed than I can, then say so, and I’ll endure the sofa tonight. But don’t say so unless you absolutely mean it!” He smiled. “But if you think Layla will have a better time with me, then take the sofa yourself, and let me sleep with her.”
My stomach churned as I contemplated this. How much had Layla told him about us? Was he just guessing? Or did he know…?
I swallowed. “Um,” I said, “well, you know, you’ve had a lot of experience with women, so that’s not entirely fair… But, um, since it’s just for one more night, I suppose I can put up with the sofa again.”
Dad shook his head in disbelief. Layla looked at me with a sympathetic expression. And Geoff simply smiled. “Good man,” he said.