“I’m sorry,” she finally began.
“Okay.”
“I cheated, then I lied to you about it, then I lied more when you caught me. And I wanted to tell you the whole truth.”
“I already know most of it. I saw the messages.”
“Okay. What else do you want to know?”
“Honestly…nothing. I can’t see how knowing more would help anything.”
“What can I do to make it up to you? Can I make this any better?”
“I don’t know what to say, Theresa. I’m not sure how to deal with this. I’m not even angry anymore. I just wished you had talked to me sooner.”
“I tried. But I think maybe I didn’t try hard enough, honestly. I just wanted some excitement, some thrill to make me feel alive again. And I hurt you and our marriage in the process.”
“Yeah.”
“What do you want? Do you want a divorce, or do you want to work through this?”
“I don’t really want to tear our lives apart, or put our kids through this. I don’t want to lose you. But I also don’t want to continue on the way we have been.”
“What if we started actually doing what the therapist suggested? Talk to each other, go on dates without the kids, have sex regularly. Would that work?”
“It’d be a start to rebuilding something good.”
“Okay…” she paused. “I…I want to know if you want a pass. To get even with me.”
“What?”
“My friend Jan suggested it. She said it worked for her and Alan when they were having a hard time after her affair.”
“You want me to fuck someone else?”
“Yes.”
I hesitated, unsure of what to say. “Oh god…” she said with a dawning realization. “When did it happen?”
“Last week in Australia.”
“Was it…how did it happen?”
“I don’t think we should talk about this.” I turned to leave the room, and she grabbed my arm.
“No…” there was an odd gentleness about her touch. Her tone was almost pleading. “Please. Tell me. I’m not mad. I just want to know.”
I started to talk. I told her about the meeting and the buildup. She listened, seemingly transfixed to every detail. As I got to the part on the beach, she started to get flushed. She loosened the strings on her crop top, and pulled it off. I noticed she was wearing one of her nice, sexy black lacy bras instead of the mom bras she had been favoring so much lately. “Keep talking,” she urged, as she began to unbutton my slacks. I was slightly weirded out, but told her about the drinks, the drugging, and instead of acting repulsed like I had assumed she would, she pulled out my hardening cock and began sucking it. “Keep going,” she prompted, and as I began to talk about the sex, she pulled off my pants and shoes, then straightened up and began fondling my prick with one hand as she ditched her underwear, hiking up her flowy skirt as she mounted me quickly and sank down on my pole. She was incredibly wet, which was a bit shocking, as it normally took a bit of foreplay and pussy licking to get her there, but as she pistoned up and down on me, she undid her bra, shoving her small breast into my mouth, and said, “Did she fuck you well?”
“God yes, so well.”
“How many times?”
“Three that night and once the next morning.” She moaned and made me take my shirt off, running her hands over my pecs.