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Tom tries to come to grips with what has happened

d glass of wine (the last of the bottle) I began to tell him

"Wanna tell me about what's bothering you, Diane?"

For some reason I started to deny anything was wrong, but I paused, and then began to cry, "Oh, Bob ... I'm so ashamed. Please don't hate me...."

"Whoa, I don't hate you. I'd never hate you, Diane. Now tell me what's wrong."

It was like undergoing a root canal, but slowly, all the events of the past days haltingly slipped from my mouth. My little rebellion against Christy Canyon.

That drew a small smile from his mouth.

The face at the window, watching us. Put a sudden startled expression on his countenance.

And when I related Fiona's admission of guilt and subsequent invitation to watch her and her husband an astonished look crossed his face and I broke down and began crying again.

Bob had his arm around me, saying "There, there," over and over.

I blurted out that I had accepted her invitation and gone over. That I had watched them fornicating; that I had cum while watching them; that I had come home and after pizza and beer I had seduced him again while gloating over the fact that I had the real cock in my mouth and Christy Canyon was merely a celluloid ghost, doomed to repetitive, never ending rounds of regulated fucking.

"But I don't want to lose you, Bob. I love you!"

"It doesn't sound like you've done anything to be ashamed of," he said softly.

"But ... but they want me to go over there again --- tonight! He wants me to watch them --- inside their house --- in the same room!"

"If ... if that's the worst thing you do in our married life, Diane, I have no problem."

"What!"

"Was that the reason you did what you did the last two nights?"

"Yes," I replied in a small voice.

"Did you enjoy watching them?"

"Yes," my voice seemed even smaller.

"And you want to do it again?"

"Yes .... I ... I've never done anything so wild, so erotic. I don't think I'll ever be so tempted again. Something in me is telling me to go. To participate if asked, but I won't go if you tell me not too."

"Is John bigger than me?"

"God, no. You must be two or three inches taller."

I was stunned when he started laughing at me.

"No ... no, I meant his dick. Is it bigger than mine?"

"Oh ... no, dear. If anything, he's a bit shorter than you. Otherwise I'd guess you're about the same."

"So ... tell me in detail just what they did while you watched."

I did my best to recount their every action. I saw him grow hard at my words, and knew he was thinking it was him fucking Fiona while I watched. I was surprised that it didn't offend me, and added some details that may or may not have occurred to sustain his interest. I felt somewhat like Scheherazade regaling the King with fanciful stories in order to stay my execution.

I knew Bob wanted me then and there. I could see it in his eyes and the way he kept licking his lips. The bulge in his trousers was even more proof that he was ready to fuck me silly. But he poured himself a double shot of scotch and drank half contemplating me with a serious expression on his face.

"You have my permission to go. You don't need my permission, but I think you'll feel better if I give it. You know, umm, no recriminations after, and all that stuff."

He swallowed the remainder of the scotch and there was no reproach in his eyes.

"Bob!" I cried out painfully, "You don't understand."

"No, Diane, you'll always regret it if you don't do this. So let yourself go. I can live with it. Hopefully it will make our marriage stronger than it already is."

I was crying, tears running down my face, ruining my makeup. "If ... if I go over there ... he's going to fuck me. And it's possible that he'll make Fiona and me do things with each other," my voice was completely flat. "Is ... is that what you want?"

"It's not what I want, Diane. It's more a matter of your personal need, or needs. You can rest assured that I love you and will continue to love you after this. You're not in love with him, are you?"

"Lord no! I hardly know the man, Bob."

"But you have this .

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