It wasn’t guilt that that caused this revelation, or being caught, it just felt that I should, you know, ‘do the right thing.’  Although, I really didn’t give a fuck if I was honest. The charge that ran through my body was far too strong to worry about apologises.

We had been invited round to my boss’s house for dinner during the build up to Christmas. When I say he was my boss, what I should have said was that he is paid more than me and he does less work. He knew that, hence the invitation.  I told my wife we had to go which she said was fine. To be honest, if I had said that the local looney party representative had asked us out she would have agreed.  Her interest in me and my world had disappeared long ago after the holiday in Spain, and the alleged incident with the flamenco dancing instructor.  She always denied it but I saw the state of her knickers in the make shift laundry bag in the hotel. He had created an oasis in that desert of a vagina I can tell you.

Tony, my boss, had said the week before,

“Hey pal, why don’t you bring that lovely wife of yours over to mine for a few drinkies and a spot of repas du soir?”

He had this really fucking annoying habit of using French words after his last holiday in Normandy.  I mean, it’s not as if 16000 allied soldiers landed in 1944 and suddenly started swapping words instead of bullets is it? Such a twat.

Anyway, of course I accepted.  For starters it was the polite thing to do and secondly saying no would have only produced an alternative date.  It never occurred to me that he actually liked me and asked me because he really wanted to.  On reflection I can’t remember him ever having a conversation with anyone at work beyond passing pleasantries, whereas I on the other hand shared a few pints on Thursday over a game of darts, and paid my lottery money to Gary each week.

“Maybe this week sunshine with all be millionaires!” Was the standard catch phrase.

We never were.

It was last Friday we went to dinner. We took a bottle of red and white, plus a bunch of flowers for his wife, Sheryl, whom we had never met.  My boss had spoken about her. ‘Punching above my weight’ he would sometimes throw in to conversation.  I assumed he was probably right considering it was him, however, I did wonder what kind of woman would marry him.

We arrived 5 minutes late, having waited at the corner to delay our arrival as my wife thought it rude to turn up on time!

“Jesus Christ, does it really matter.” I asked her?

She just looked at me as though I wasn’t there before finally striding off in a dress to short for her legs. It was at that point I realised there were not enough domestic accidents in the home.

We were met by my boss before we could ring the bell; ‘he’s keen’ I thought to myself.

“Welcome to Casa-TonySheryl” He boomed as he threw open the door waived us in.

Having pumped my hand vigorously he turned his attention to, my now fawning, wife.  He embraced her like a long lost friend and kissed her on both cheeks.

“Sheryl my love, out guests are here!” He called out.

I admit that I expected a mixture of Kathy Bates in Misery and the She Devil  to walk through the door.  Instead I got just the Devil, with long brown hair, green eyes and dressed is a short, but not distasteful, dress. She was SO amazingly sexy. Having glided over to my wife she held her hands and kissed her on the mouth.

“Hello.” She said.

My wife’s face was a picture and I knew straight away she was turned on by the overt sexual behaviour. She was not alone!

Dinner passed in a blur of wine and Sheryls’ laughter, and my boss chatting up my wife!  I had not seen this side of her in a while. He on the other hand was the same at home as he was at work – a trier. He did everything he could to be the perfect host and still managed to be annoying.  I finally left the table for break and when exiting the bathroom on my return, I was met by Sheryl.

“Only problem with one bathroom, you have to cross you legs until the persons finished. I would have pee’d my knickers, if I had any on.”

She went into bathroom leaving the door open.

“Watch me.” She called out.

Lifting her dress she stood astride the toilet and lifted her short dress.  Just a small patch of dark hair covered her clit. I stared as the water slowly seeped through the folds of her skin before breaking through into a stream.

“All done, off you pop!” She said smiling.

With dinner finished my wife offered to help clear up, but was told not to be silly.

“Go and sit with Tony, I’ll get your husband to help me and Tony can get you another drink”

Having spend 15 minutes with Sheryl’s arse rubbing against me everytime squeezed past me, my cock was straining in my trousers.

“Want to fuck me?”

Lifting her skirt up and bending toward the sink she stood astride and pushed her arse up.  What was I supposed to do?  I mean, my grumpy wife next door  and this beautiful sight on offer. I admit now I acted in haste without any thought of being caught.  Even so, the desire got the best of me and I fucked her, hard and fast as though my life depended on it. I came with such force I had trouble keeping upright as my legs shook so much.

No sooner had I zipped up when both my wife and Tony walked in.

“She’s obvious been working you hard, you’re very red in the face, not used to being that close to sink I’ll guess.” Said Tony stupidly.

“Ha,ha,ha,” I blurted out. “Yes the water was hot, lots of dishes, many dishes, you have a nice….sink. Good sink, does the job well, the sink, does…..

But through all my garbled monologue I couldn’t fail to notice my wife’s gaze. She seemed to be focused on the floor, or my precisely Sheryl’s shoes.  Tony too was now focused in the same direction. I looked at Sheryl’s shoes, closed my eyes for a few seconds, and then looked up at Sheryl. In unison we both looked down as yet another large blob of spunk hit her black shiny pointed shoe.

Like I said, I should have apologised, but deep down, I-really-didn’t-give-a-flying-fuck.