“Would you like to order now sir?” I looked up.  It was the barkeep Sally had introduced earlier. He obviously found something very amusing. Perhaps it was the stained panties still lying on the table. Perhaps it was me, sitting there miserable and alone as my wife walked off with someone else.

He knew! He ‘had’ to know.  He called her by her first name when she came in and this was obviously where they held their little rendezvous. I closed the envelope I had just opened without viewing the contents.  Casually I picked up my wife’s panties, folded them neatly and put them in my pocket together with the envelope.

“Yes, I have an order?” Staring up into the smirking face I said quietly. “I would appreciate it very much if you would take that grin off your face and fuck off!”
 
His smile was replaced by open-mouthed surprise and I was left staring at an empty space. It was a mild release for the pent-up agonies I had nursed for the last few hours.

It felt very claustrophobic in there, I couldn’t think straight; I was suffocating. I had to get out, get some fresh air and do some serious thinking. I paid at the bar to a different barman, and left.

I pushed my hand into my pocket pulled out the tacky panties and dumped them in a bin near the door, then I made my way out into the night, around the side of the building to the MPV, praying that she would be there, but knowing that she wouldn’t.

Where was she, what was she doing now? My thoughts were running rampant, almost unbearable; was she fucking? Of course she was. Was she sucking him off again, now, at this moment? My head was buzzing with this roller coaster of a day. I remembered the envelope. It was probably a ‘Dear John’ I thought, I opened it. Photographs? No letter, just photographs?

I climbed into the car and switched on the light, no doubt in my mind what the subject of the pictures would be. I thumbed through the selection dispassionately, amazed at how calm I had become, with an almost analytical eye, as though the cunt depicted in most of the shots in glorious colour was not that of my wife. One showed the swollen labia, open and ready, the forefingers of a male hand pulling back the hood of her clit, exposing it red and raw looking, distended, alert, above the yawning crimson hole, glistening with moisture, that was evidently about to be, or had just been fucked.  That it was my wife there was no doubt. I could see her face in some of the shots and her ‘designer stubble’ in most of the others. She hadn’t lied about his penis either.  It was a weird appendage, crowned with what looked like the head of a big mushroom. I was developing a severe dislike for this man.

Another shot showed jets of cum that had been ejaculated onto her belly, a trail of cum hanging from the gaping mouth of her sex. The flash of the camera had lit up the inside of her abused cunt. I could see the greyish-white sperm inside her, contrasting with the redness of her cuntal passage. Yet another showed him wedged belly to belly up inside her. Another with his hand wrapped around his prick poised at her opening, a stream of whiteness spewing from the mushroom end into her. Then, turning to the next one my heart sank.  It was the one image I was praying I wouldn’t see. The bulbous head of his cock buried just inside the straining ring of her once virgin anus. In the picture a female hand could be seen.  Her hand! Pushing against his groin as though in protest against the unnatural assault. A futile attempt judging by the next photo, he was sunk right in ball deep, their bodies gleaming with the fluids from her orifices. It went on and on, each one superseding the last in its grossness, it’s explicitness. There was no doubt in my mind whose influence had generated them and whose hand was directing the action and taking the photographs.

Staring again at the pictures it suddenly occurred to me that I knew where they were. It wasn’t a hotel room or a car.  In some shots, judging by the upholstery, they were in a campervan or motorhome. The same motorhome we passed when we arrived! The same one she went into to get fucked while I sat at the bar worrying about her feelings.

I started up the MPV and drove to the other side of the building.  Twenty yards from the motorhome I switched off the lights, parked and sat pondering my options.  For a long time I just sat there reliving the events of the day, my eyes not leaving the illuminated windows of the camper.
I knew what I was going to do and once I had acknowledged that, the whole sorry mess began to take on a new perspective. It seemed so obvious. I had created this monster. I would be the one to destroy it.

I had pushed Sally into this and I could see now that once it had begun she had little choice but to let it run its course A terrible gamble but one she clearly thought was worth the risk, otherwise she would have gained nothing and lost everything, our marriage, her respect for me and most of all respect for herself. That she had found someone with a voracious unorthodox sexual appetite was my bad luck, but I was absolutely positive now that all things considered no matter who she had eventually chosen the outcome would have been the same, because what is invariably missing from this type of sordid little assignation is respect, responsibility and love. That is why he could do to her the things he did. He had no responsibility towards her, no love and no respect for her feelings. He could please himself what he did, then just walk away. Because of this fact it allowed the sex to be wild and unfettered with no accountability on either side. The onus lying squarely on the shoulders of  ‘El Burko’, me! Whereas I loved her, I respected her. I was responsible for her and cared deeply about her well-being and our partnership. Whether this commitment and accountability actually dulled our sex life would remain a subject for conjecture and after tonight no doubt hopefully the topic of intense future discussions. I laughed out loud.  She was getting fucked because of me! Now, the way I was thinking, she was getting fucked ‘for’ me? --- Fucking ironical isn’t it.

Okay, with that sorted out in my head I needed to find out for sure that she actually was in the motorhome. Climbing out of my vehicle I made my way across the park trying not to be too obvious and positioned myself between the camper and the shrubbery that surrounded the park and tried to peer, unsuccessfully through the blinds of a side window. I couldn’t see anything but I could ‘hear’ plenty. There was no mistaking the groans of my wife and her occasional Oh!----Oh!---- Oh!  I felt a pang of jealousy and dejection as I realized I’d never heard her groans of sexual passion from a distance before.

“Push down on it Sally? Right down!  That’s it! Now ride it! Fuck it hard! And all the while her mewing groans resounded through the van.

Why I wanted to see this, to actually see it happening I truthfully don’t know. At this moment I had a sincere hatred for this man who had taken my place, yet defying logic, I wanted to see him ‘in’ her, fucking her! To see what they did, how they interacted, but mainly I think I wanted to see how my wife reacted to him personally. This was madness!  Why, for Gods sake! I don’t know.

My heart was pounding. I desperately circled the van looking for somewhere I could see inside. This was totally out of character for me. What was I doing, creeping about like a bloody voyeur, a peeping tom.
If anyone had seen me sneaking around the van with a steaming hard on I’d have been locked up. I felt disgusted with myself but it didn’t stop me. I had to see them.

I noticed that the cab-end had curtains instead of blinds and when I got closer I could see by the side of the door that there was a gap between the drapes on the passenger side of the vehicle and a chink of light was emanating from the interior. I pushed my face against the window and peered in. Where I was standing I could see almost the whole internal length of the camper but that wasn’t the main thing that was occupying my vision just then.

There she was, naked, almost facing me, a couple of metres to my right, sitting impaled on the cock of a dark-haired man whose total attire was a pair of ankle socks. She had her feet up on the seat opposite, legs splayed, hanging wide and using her feet for leverage she was slowly working herself up and down on the shaft that was buried deep in her----arse, for pity’s sake. Her cunt was hanging open, in a lop-sided ‘O’ secreting her lust as she squelched down on him.

“Now push your fingers in your cunt and fuck yourself. Play with your clit and tell me when you’re coming”

“No! Don’t ask me to do that! Just fuck me please”

“Look at your cunt Sally,” he said as he sat there kneading her breasts, rolling and squeezing the nipples “push your fingers in your hole and start fucking”

As if in a trance she leaned over and looked at her swollen, mushy gash with his rigid piston lodged tightly in her straining arse below, then she watched herself as she opened and held herself wider with her left hand then fed the fingers of her right hand in up to her knuckles.

I swear I didn’t take my cock out. it was just there, in my hand. What the fuck was wrong with me? My wife doing unimaginable things with a stranger and me standing watching with my prick in my hand, this wasn’t me! I don’t do things like this I thought as I slowly slid my fist back and forth.

“I’m coming! Oh, God--- I’m coming! Oh!—oh!—oh!”

It was Sally, and she wasn’t kidding. I saw then what she had talked about earlier, that quite frankly, I didn’t believe, my wife ejaculate; her hand was working feverishly at herself; then suddenly a discharge spurted from her, coating her fingers and her shaking thighs. Then I joined her, my cock quivered in my hand then pulse after pulse of semen spattered the side of his van.

I heard the guttural groans of a male voice reverberate from inside. “My turn girl” he groaned. “I’m going to come! Keep your cunt open,” he said as he withdrew his glistening prick from her arse and held it at the mouth of her cunt. She stretched the lips of her labia away from the widening gash with both hands and stared down at the mess between them as thick globules of sperm spewed from the bulbous head and splattered her inner thighs and belched up inside and around her cunt hole.

Once I had cum I could not rationalise with the emotional turmoil that engulfed me. Sadness, jealousy, anger.  But the most disturbing was the undeniable underlying feeling of unrequited lust. I felt like an interloper. Like I did not belong to this act of intimacy between these two people, even though one of those people was my wife, yet, disturbingly, with a real deep yearning to participate. All of this only served to strengthen my resolve to end this nightmare now.
 
While these thoughts were seesawing through my mind I saw the man lift her from him, then, turning he ran his hand between her legs and offered it to her. She took his fingers into her mouth and sucked.

At first my sole intention was to get Sally regardless of her possible protests and take her home but even as I was thinking this I knew it was not the way to end it. I needed more.  We needed more. This episode had exposed a part of me I was never consciously aware of. I felt an uncanny need to explore this part, then to end this thing completely and totally. No strings. I’d seen all I’d wanted to see and soon, hopefully, we could walk away from it.

I made my way to the rear of the camper and rapped on the door. Nothing. Silence --- then a male voice with a typical response

“Who on earth can that be?”

He opened the door and stood there in nothing but his underpants. My immediate assessment, a man shorter than me, perhaps slightly heavier built, dark-skinned, a definite Romany look about him. He recognised me instantly.

“You know me then?” I said.

“Well --- er --- yes, I do!”

“Okay! Introductions over. Aren’t you going to ask me in?” I said, pushing past him. He made no protest as I made my way through the van.

No Sally? --- I opened a side door and --- there she was, sitting on a loo with a hand towel pulled over her nakedness, the nipple of her right breast impudently peeking from the side.

“Peter!” she squeaked, wide-eyed “What are you doing here? You know what I said!” trying to recapture some of the overbearing attitude she had shown earlier, but failing.

“I know what you said. You didn’t think I could just wait and hope did you?  Now you are going to listen to what I have to say” then a voice piped up behind me.

“I don’t think Sally wants you here, and I’d appreciate it if you would leave. Now!” he said with an attempt at conviction.

I turned and glared at him. “Up until now you have been nothing more than a ‘tool’” I said “ an instrument Sally has used in desperation to try to redress the balance for my thoughtless indiscretions. Believe me, if I were you I would be content with that. You are simply a pick-up, accept that fact.” I said pulling myself to my full height and leaning towards him.
In the step back he took, he relinquished credibility as an aggressor. It seemed he was allowing common sense to over-ride any desire he might have had for confrontation. His stare wavered and fell from mine, he looked towards Sally, still sitting there, looking ridiculous on the loo bowl.

“I have things I must say to you Sally, and I don’t think being crammed in here in this loo is the place to say it.”

With an elegant sweep of his arm my reluctant host ushered me through to the lounge area.

“Take a seat, make yourself at home” he said, with more than a hint of sarcasm. I walked through and sat down followed by Sally, still holding her towel and still with her nipple poking out. There had been a supple change in the psychological hierarchy I noted, and I had become the dominating presence. My confidence was easing into overdrive.

I looked directly at Sally as she perched herself on the edge of a seat looking decidedly uncomfortable as though she didn’t know quite what to do or say. It was then that I noticed he had covered his upholstery with a sheet. I smiled. I could well understand why, the way Sally had been ‘expressing’ herself lately.

“There are two men here Sally” I said “and though I hate to admit it, both know your body intimately --- don’t you think you can dispense with the towel?”

She looked first at me, then at him, then again at me. She removed the towel and placed it beside her on the seat.

I looked at my beautiful wife sitting there naked, her hands covering her pussy, her legs tight together, so lovely, so vulnerable. I wanted desperately to hold her to me, to throw something over her nakedness, to take her home, and yet, even as I thought this I was acutely aware of an underlying, unmistakable sexual tension permeating the atmosphere, almost tangible, compelling, urging. There was something I needed to see and do. ‘The Fifth Day’ wasn’t over yet.

I really didn’t think she was prepared for this turn of events, my sudden appearance at this point didn’t figure in her equation.

“What is it you want Peter?” she said resignedly.

“Simply for you to allow me to speak --- uninterrupted.” She raised her hand in a gesture of assent, leaving her other hand still covering her pussy. Staring directly into her eyes I began.

“What I did was thoughtless and selfish, never realizing or even considering the possible consequences of what it might do to us. To explain how I felt at the time. Tina was giving off sexual signals directed solely at me, and quite frankly I was flattered. Tell me honestly that you have never been propositioned and perhaps, at the very least, just wondered what it would be like. Well, I did --- but I crossed the line. The point I’m trying to make Sally; is that although what I did was wrong, it was not premeditated; it was not done to hurt you. It was an erotic adventure with an attractive woman, nothing more. No whispered endearments, no swearing of undying love, or to put it in layman’s language and to echo what you said earlier --- a fuck. If my head had over-ruled my hard, we would not be sitting here now, because believe me, between you and her, my love, there is no contest. I am not making light of what happened, as I have said a dozen times. You Sally, are my world, and I have no intention of living my life without you.”

“Now then” I said, lowering my voice and putting in as much emotion as I could muster. “Your response to my stupidity was something else. You knew what you were doing. You deliberately did what you did to hurt me. I cannot condone what you did, ‘are doing’ but I can understand it and I can forgive you.” Then I added “I also know you can forgive me and that you never intended going off with him!”

“Oh,” she whispered “and what makes you so sure of that?”

“You went to an awful lot of trouble to set this thing up Sally. I could be wrong, but I don’t think so. If you didn’t care for me --- really care, then you wouldn’t have bothered. But you did take a terrible gamble with what you did.”

I stretched out my arms and took her hands in mine. “Tell me I’m right, don’t take this thing any further Sally, please.  I think we’ve both suffered enough, don’t you?” Before she could reply he spoke up.

“I can answer that one!” he interjected “She’s already told me she’d never leave you.”

She looked a forlorn figure as she sat there, her lips quivering, her eyes full.

“Yes! You’re right!” she gushed. Her shoulders shook. “What a terrible mess we’ve made of things, you and I.”

“I don’t think so sweetheart, we can survive this and come out stronger” I smiled “if we are truthful we have to admit to becoming complacent, taking each other for granted, and our sex life had lost some of its zest, this is a blessing in disguise, this has given us a new lease on life?”

“How can this disaster help us?” she sniffed.

“Well,” I said “ in the past there were things I would have liked to have tried with you but was afraid to ask in case I upset you.” I leered at her. “But now!  After the eye-opener I’ve had, we’ve ‘both’ had. Watch out!”
I grinned. “There is a side to my lovely wife neither of us knew existed and by becoming aware of it, it exposed a side to ‘me’ I didn’t know existed.

“What do you mean?” she looked at me doe-eyed.

“Well, let me explain something first then you’ll see. When you hit upon this idea of revenge you made the lucky mistake of telling him you would do anything he asked whereby relinquishing control and with it responsibility for anything you might do, at the same time allowing him to be as perverse and outrageous as he wished.  Consequently it evolved into the most erotic episode of your life. Then it occurred to me that you really got off on having someone control your actions, and I mean ‘really’ get off!”

“I don’t think so?” she said with an element of doubt in her voice.

“I’m sure of it --- and I’ll prove it to you?”

“How can you do that?” she quizzed. I had the distinct impression she regretted having asked that question.

“By you answering honestly---and doing what I say---will you do that?”

“I’ll try.” She mumbled.

“Has he fucked you since you left me in the restaurant?” I thought the question would have unsettled her but it didn’t.  She looked at him then back at me.

“Yes.”

“How many times?”

“Once.”

“Did you cum?”

“Yes.”

“How many times?”

“I----I don’t know?” I raised my eyebrows.

“Three times I think.”

“He made you cum three times?”

“Yes.”

“How many times has he fucked you now?”

“Fifteen times.”

“He fucked you in the arse didn’t he?”

“Look! Peter, where are you going with this?”

“Just answer the question sweetheart---please.” She dropped her eyes and sat staring at her feet. I didn’t think she was going to reply, then almost in a whisper.

“Yes.”

“Open your legs” I said matter-of-factly “and show me your cunt.”

“What!” she said, wide-eyed “Here---now! You must be kidding. Clamping her legs even tighter together.

“Its okay to show a stranger your delights, but not your hubby?”

She seemed to realize the absurdity of it and with eyes darting from one to the other she slowly opened her legs.

“Wider Sally.” She was committed now and gradually a very swollen wet gash was slowly exposed.

 “Your cunt looks as though it’s been really busy!” I said, expecting a reaction, then as an afterthought. “Do me a favour Sally, and let me see your clit, I’ve never seen you do that?” A pink flush began to spread across her neck and face. I wasn’t sure whether it was embarrassment or sexual arousal. Again I waited for her protest but none came. Looking down at herself she placed the forefingers of both hands to the top of her gash and eased them upwards, her glistening clit, looking like a periwinkle emerging from its shell, curled out. Her fingers began a slow, sliding action gently back and forth. I watched as she applied pressure with her fingers and the pink little organ stiffened and stood out at least an inch long,

“I didn’t ask you to play with it Sally? You can’t help yourself can you? You enjoy being directed. Do you think I’m proving my point?” I queried.

“Mmmmm, I don’t think you’re proving anything?”

“I haven’t finished yet honey?” I turned towards our ‘host’. “You have been in an enviable position over the past few days, being allowed to manipulate my wife. How would you feel to be manipulated yourself?”
 
Both looked questioningly at me. I turned to Sally who still sat wide open with her little soldier standing at attention.

“I don’t want the spectre of the last few days to haunt us Sally. I want to ‘lay the ghost’. Up until now it’s been you and him. I have been excluded, making you a pair. ‘We’ are a pair. He is just something you used---- so we are going to use him again?” I glanced at him as he stood quietly, looking uncertain I thought and mildly amused.

“I’m doing the directing now----you okay with that?” with a puzzled look on his face he shrugged his shoulders.

“Suits me fine----lead on.”

“What are you doing Peter?”

“Laying the ghost sweetheart----just laying the ghost.” Then turning to him.

“Would you like to remove your underpants?”

He slipped out of them without hesitation. His cock hung there, semi-erect. A stranger looking monstrosity I have never seen. The pictures and Sally’s description didn’t do it justice. It was really very thick at the base, then about three inches from the head it tapered in quickly, crowned with a truly awesome knob that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a horse. He saw me looking.

“You must get some odd reactions to that?” I said.

“Oh I do, believe me. Trouble is, a lot of women can’t get past ‘El Toro’” he said, pointing to his knob.
 
Christ! I thought. He’s got a pet name for the bloody thing.

Then he added with a smirk. “Sally wasn’t one of them.”

“I only have your word for that?” I said.

“I took pictures----you must have seen them?”

“Oh I’ve seen them----but cameras can lie.”

Sally, who had sat quietly listening to the exchange, spoke up.
“Peter! You can’t mean---surely, you can’t want---no!!!

“I want to ‘see’ it Sally, to be part of it----this is ‘us’ using ‘him’.
I know now how horny you are. You’ll let him fuck you and I’ll watch. Now open wide honey, and lift up for him.”

She was every bit as horny as I thought. Looking directly into my eyes she raised herself up to him presenting her cunt wide and wet. He took no bidding.  He was on his knees between her legs and nudging at her pouting hole with the massive head of his penis. It looked an impossible task but he edged forward and pressed against the swollen crimson gash.

“You sure Peter?” she groaned. Gazing at me through lust-filled eyes. I smiled at her.

“I couldn’t stop you now if I wanted----could I? Looks like you’re fucked honey!”

I was answered by a long drawn-out groan as I bent and kissed her. I looked down to see the head swallowed by her cunt as she lifted herself up further to meet it. I saw it thickly force its way into her hole.
Then, in unison, they both started ‘The dance of Pan’ she raising and failing, he, his arse bobbing in rhythm to her thrusting.  Soon, too soon, her legs began to tremble.  She was going to cum.

“Stop!” I said. “Pull out!”

No argument, no protest, nothing. He just withdrew his cock, the huge crown slurping from her, covered in foam generated by their coupling and dribbling from her cunt.

“Oh! Put it in!” she pleaded. “Please put it in.”

I looked between her legs at the liver-red engorged opening that was mouthing its own plea, visibly contracting in spasms, vainly searching for something, anything to fill its aching void. In seconds I was naked. I tapped him on the shoulder. “My turn I think?”

He didn’t argue. He stood up, his cock a cudgel brandished in front of him. I eased down between her legs and suckled on her burning clit like a baby at a nipple.

Almost immediately her thighs slapped around my head and I could barely hear her familiar “Oh!---oh!---oh!” signalling her climax.
It gushed from her, soaking my chin and throat and chest in warm squirts. Open mouthed I lowered myself to the spewing vagina and tasted for the first time her salty sweet nectar. As her climax ebbed her legs opened. I raised myself from her and positioned my cock, rampant, at her cunt hole and pushed. Up I went into her scalding insides. I looked into her eyes, heavy with orgasmic lust. “I love you” I whispered and felt her cunt grip my cock in acknowledgement. “Suck my tongue?” I said and slid my tongue into her mouth. She ran her tongue around mine then drew it deeply into her, her head bobbing back and forth as if it were a cock. I began to move into her, slowly at first then quickening. It was too much for me. I couldn’t hold out much longer. I pulled back from her mouth to give myself more leverage for the home run. It was only then I noticed she had his penis in her hand and was wanking him off. He was on his knees on the seat as she pummelled his weird tool. I fucked her with a vengeance. I noticed as she wanked him he was edging closer and closer towards her head. Again our eyes locked, then, opening her mouth wide, without breaking her gaze with mine she sucked in the enormous knob.
Her bobbing action began again, her eyes never leaving mine.

“I’m going to cum!” he gasped.

Still looking at me her head kept on bobbing, never breaking the rhythm. I stopped fucking and watched, fascinated. His stomach drew in, he moaned deeply, his buttocks gripped and released, gripped and released, again and again.

Sally’s eyes still locked on mine as her head bobbed ceaselessly, her throat swallowing.  A single globule of gelatinous whiteness at the corner of her mouth, the only visible evidence that her stomach was receiving the contents of his balls.

That did it for me. Two pushes right up into her belly and I exploded.

We lay there panting, my head between her breasts. It was Sally who spoke first.

“Has the ghost been laid then?”

“I think so, do you?”

She kissed me. “I hope so, I truly, truly hope so.”

Strangely, not one of us showed any signs of embarrassment or awkwardness, as if, what we had done, was the most natural thing in the world. He offered us a drink, and then unhurried we all showered and dressed.
As we were about to leave Sally turned and spoke to him.

“You do realize I just used you, don’t you?”

“I think we used each other.” He grinned.

“—And I have no desire to ever see you again.”

“I didn’t think so.” He smiled. “I can tell you now Sally, that it was obvious to me from day one, how you felt about your husband.
In the days I have known you, you never once even asked my name. I was under no illusions about you and I. You offered me an opportunity no man in his right mind could or would resist, so what was a body to do?” he shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve enjoyed every minute of it. Good luck!” he added.

With his uncomplicated assessment of it, it seemed he wasn’t such a villain after all, just a randy opportunist with a weird prick.

We stepped from the van into the night and headed towards our MPV. I took Sally’s arm and guided her to the rear of the vehicle.

“What are you up to now?” she said. “Surely you can’t still be horny?”

“You never came when I was in you,” I said “ I want you to cum for me now!”

“What! Now---I can’t Peter. I can’t just cum to order like that. I’m shagged out!”

“Lift your dress up at the front and tuck it under your waistband. I want to see if I can do to you what he did?”

“There are still cars on the park, there must still be people about.” She said, peering about her.

“Sally, I know this is what gets you off. It turns you on like a tap, till you can’t help yourself.”

“I’ve just had a shower Peter.” She said, already furtively looking around and lifting her dress. “I don’t believe this.” She was saying as she exposed her cunt.

There was enough light from the restaurant to make out the triangle of her bush, contrasted against the whiteness of her belly.

“Let me feel how wet you are.” I said my fingers parting the tacky lips of her labia. “This is crazy!” she said I slid two fingers into the damp heat and began working them.

“Is this how he brought you off?”

“No, he stood behind me.”

“Like this?” I asked as I lifted her dress at the back. “Then what?”

“He pushed his thumb into me.” She said opening her legs.

“Then what did he do?”

“He fucked me with it.”

“Like this?” I asked as I tucked my thumb between the lips of her pussy and began to wank her.

“No!” she moaned. “Faster.”

“Like this?” I said.

“Faster!” she groaned.

She was lying back on me now, my hand was a blur, I could feel the liquid walls of her cunt gripping and sucking at my thumb. She staggered half squatting, legs apart, closer to the car groaning with me following pounding the slippery gash. My arm began to ache; I couldn’t keep up the action. I began to slow.

“Oh please don’t stop Peter, fuck me with your thumb please, oh please!” she pleaded.

I had slowed markedly now when she pulled away from me. Her dress still tucked into her waistband she did something totally unexpected. Looking down at herself she spread her legs even further then her hand vanished between her thighs. The light was not sufficient enough to see in detail. I could here though. Her breathing became heavy and laboured.

“I thought you said you couldn’t cum again?” No reply, just her heavy breathing. Her movements became frantic, erratic. Her belly thrust forward. She was oblivious to me now. It was just her and her cunt. Her hand was slapping wetly against herself faster and faster accompanied by a long moaning wail. She staggered even closer to the vehicle.

“Ooohhhh Godddddd!” she groaned and whipped her hand away.

It hissed from her body like piss splashing across the rear bumper and down the wheel, then another spurt, then a lesser one. Her hand invaded her cunt again. Pummelling, pounding herself as yet another orgasm expelled from the mouth of her cunt. My cock was in my hand in an instant and my cum was mixing with hers on the car park. I was still finishing milking my prick when she knelt in front of me and sucked.

“A couple of things puzzle me Sally?” I said after we settled down in the car.

“What’s that honey?”

“Well, you said you wanted to emulate the four days I’d had. So if you weren’t considering leaving me for him----why did you have to have the fifth day?”

She laid her head on my shoulder. “It wasn’t for the reason I said Peter. I’m not harbouring any dark illicit thoughts about him. The answer is quite simple really. You work all week so it had to be today, Saturday, to set it all up. The problem was I realized I would be at his mercy again getting fucked and played with. It was just something I had to endure.”
She giggled her bubbling little laugh and squeezed my hand. “What was the other thing?”

“Well,” I said. “The amount of sperm he’s spurted up into your cervix, your ovaries must be floating by now. He’s got a pair of balls on him like a Brahms bull, I’ll be amazed if you haven’t got company.”

“If I have it will be ‘The Immaculate Conception’. That was the one area I had no desire to imitate what you and that woman did. I don’t think we would have survived that Peter----me waddling about with a belly full of another mans child. The child or children I have will be yours---ours. I don’t want it any other way. I love you, you big weirdo.”

We kissed and held each other for a long time. She sat back and studied my face thoughtfully.

“Four years of marriage and we never really knew each other did we?”

“No.” I grinned at her. “I never realized you were so fucking horny.” I kissed her nose. “I love it!” I laughed.

“Me too!” she countered. “Wow! Are we going to have some fun?

I fired up the engine and drove from the park.

“Sally?”

“Uh huh.”

“You did what you did because you loved me ---- right?”

“I suppose.”

“I’m really pleased you didn’t fucking hate me then.”

The car shook with hysterical laughter as we drove up the road ----home.

Somewhere in the distance a village clock chimed out midnight ending ‘The Fifth Day’.
 

Any correspondence and acknowledgements regarding my story would be most appreciated.