My name is Katrina Starnes. My husband, Dale, calls me Kat when he is being affectionate. I know it seems boring when I put it like that. I sometimes feel like I am a boring person that few people would want to know. I'm not sure I can explain what came over me several weeks ago. This probably sounds like I'm justifying my actions. Perhaps I am to a degree. I felt bored. I felt restless. I guess I wanted the thrill I felt with sex when I was younger. We had never really been adventurous in our love-making; more predictable than anything else. It was usually one of three positions; missionary, cowgirl and reverse cowgirl once in a while. Once the kids went away to college, I thought the frequency of our love making would increase. The stress of Dale's job killed that notion. Actually, it nearly killed our love life as well.

Forbidden fruit; is that what Icarus was thinking about when he flew toward the sun? I wanted more. I wanted the thrill back, so I searched for it. What I found, I found in spades. All sorts of personal ads wanting to get with somebody like me. I made sure I hid my browser history from Dale. I reveled in this guilty indulgence of mine, reading personal ads seemingly directed at me, or at least somebody like me. It took my breath away; it made me feel desirable again, made my pussy feel damp again. But the thrill I felt dimmed again as I realized I couldn't possibly answer those ads. The risk was too great. I would probably get caught and publicly exposed in my estimation. The thought of that kind of public humiliation among friends and family was too great to bear. No, to my great shame now, I thought it would be better if Dale were caught in some tawdry affair. If that were the case, I could separate from him and possibly divorce him and be free to pursue the thrill of sex I had set up on the pedestal in my mind. Fool that I was being at the time, it seemed so simple, so elegant a solution. I would find somebody to seduce my husband!

In my naked desire to grasp that thrill of sex again, I devised a plan to place my own personal ad. I planned this scheme in my free time and set up my own subscription on the website for personal ads. Deciding I could not risk anybody discovering my identity, I would use just the first initial of my name and the current year for my user id and would just use K as a signature. I hand wrote what that ad would say and in my shame shredded it for fear that Dale would find it and question me. Late one evening after Dale had gone to bed, sitting in front of my computer in my pajamas, I typed in my personal Seductress Wanted ad.

The cursor blinked and blinked while my heart pounded in my chest. I thought I heard Dale on the stairway wandering down, I closed my eyes and clicked on the submit button as my pulse quickened, frantic to navigate away from the website I was on. But now the ad was submitted. I resolved not to look, not to watch or wait for a response, and closed the browser then and there.

I felt guilty the next day and resolved to not look for a response, but was weak and looked anyway. I should have deleted the ad, but I didn't. I'd check whenever I thought there was no danger of Dale seeing me, and quickly close the site down if I heard him moving around. There were quite a few responses from men wanting to know if I was available, wanting to know my height, weight, and age, wanting to know my body measurements. I deleted them all because I didn't want to be the unfaithful one; I wanted Dale to be unfaithful. The irony of that never occurred to me.

Once or twice I received responses from women I presumed that cuckqueans should have their heads shaved and be marched around nude in public. I had to look up that term. I deleted those as well. I didn't want to participate in Dale having sex with somebody else, so it didn't make sense to be called that. There were also a lot of responses asking Dale's height, weight, and age. I didn't reply to any of those, but I didn't delete them yet. I didn't understand why it would matter, but I wondered if I should reply to any of them. Maybe as a last resort, but I was close to giving up on the personal ad. Then one evening, I found a succinct response from J. It wasn't demanding, it didn't deflect, just seemed to be a simple yes. Could this be the answer I was wanting? Was I ready to take the plunge? It wasn't really a plunge though, was it, because to go further, I would have to respond again to at least ask for a meeting?

Once I sort of decided that this response was going to receive a reply, I needed time to assess and reflect on what I was doing. I think in the movies they call that a "gut check." I started a list of pros and cons, but shredded it fearing it would be found. I waffled back and forth, even while at work. I was distracted and my co-workers probably noticed my distraction. My boss told me in so many words to get a grip. I knew just one way to put it out of my mind, so three days later, I replied to J. Since I only work part-time, I spent most of the next couple of days off at the computer waiting for J to tell me where and when we should meet. That evening after Dale had gone to bed, I checked my computer one more time and her instructions were waiting for me. I sent confirmation and quickly scampered up to bed afterward.

"Dale, are you still awake?"

"Yes Kat. Why?"

"You've been working late so much lately. Are you going to be working late Thursday also?"

"Probably will be. What's up?"

"I'll be having dinner and drinks with a co-worker after we finish for the day and I won't have time to prepare dinner for you."

"Okay Kat. Good night love," as he kissed my forehead.

I turned the nightstand lamp off and lay down. A few minutes later I heard his light snoring, but I couldn't sleep and stared at the ceiling until my eyes adjusted to the dark and I could count the whorls in the paint texture, but eventually I slept.

I'm nervous at work and home until Thursday rolls around. I have to concentrate throughout the day on thinking about what I am doing and what I should be thinking about at the time, but I'm distracted wondering what this person I am meeting will be like. Will I like her, will it matter? Will I be able to go through with what I've set in motion? I assure myself that even if I should back out, I've made no promises so far. J has asked for none either, so maybe it will be okay. I try to picture her, and silly me, all I can do is picture another me. What seems like a thousand times; I wonder what I've gotten myself in for. My desires override my feelings of guilt. Is it wrong to desire a better sex life?

Thursday after work, I bought a bunch of white carnations from the grocery store so that I've got one for the meeting. The rest I think I will keep in the kitchen. I think about buying a salad to eat, but I'm scared that I will drip the dressing on my dark green suit. I opt for a simple protein bar instead. The butterflies in my tummy don't want much nourishment anyway.

As I walk in to Barbarossa's, I scan the crowd for somebody else carrying a carnation. But it is crowded, and I get ushered to a booth before I can see one. I order an old fashioned, maybe it will calm my nerves, but I want to be careful not to drink too much since I haven't had much to eat. I'm fairly confident I can nurse the old fashioned through the meeting without finishing it.

While waiting for my drink, an absolutely adorable girl wanders from behind me and displays a carnation. I think, "Oh my God," she's almost young enough to be my daughter! IF I had gotten pregnant in high school, she'd probably be the same age as my oldest! I had expected somebody closer to my own age, so now I'm really nervous. I'm not even 50 yet, but I feel kind of old now. She tells me her name is Jessa, and I tell her mine. I stare at her and wonder if she really would seduce a man almost old enough to be her father. I've heard that some younger women are turned on by older men. She's self-assured, confident and brash. I like to think I am confident, but I believe she is more so than I ever would be.

My drink arrives and I'm still trying to think of what to say to her. What should one say to somebody about seducing their husband? I'm at a loss for words, but I stumble through a couple of niceties. She's getting impatient and about to leave and I blurt out my desire. I'm confessing to this slip of a girl why I want her to sleep with my husband. Yet, she seems to accept it at face value. She tells me she might want to keep sleeping with Dale after I divorce him. It wasn't something I had considered previously. I search my feelings, which I'm beginning to suspect at the moment anyway. I think I can accept what she is suggesting, but I can't say for certain.

Jessa suggests a spa weekend and I agree thinking that if I don't go along with it she might walk away and I'll not achieve what I want. I suggest a location that I've heard my co-workers mention, a Holly Springs Creek Inn and Jessa set up a reservation on her phone. I'm not really sure why we need another conversation about his seduction, but maybe she's right that I need to think more about it. If nothing else, I could use a bit of pampering the spa weekend will provide.

On the way home while I contemplate the weekend outing, I start feeling a bit wicked and soon a warming tingle in my core. It had been a while since I had masturbated, and I was starting to get in the mood. In the bedroom, Dale is barely awake when I get in. I get cleaned up and ready for bed by putting on one of my slinky lacey nightgowns. Dale is unfortunately already asleep, so I roll my nipples between my thumbs and fingers to get them tingly and hard. The heat starts to build up, blood engorging my clit. I pinch it lightly and it turns hard also. As the folds of my vagina get damp I run my fingers up and down my slit, brushing my moistness over my hardness there. I rub it more vigorously and my slit opens in expectation of being filled. I almost reach for my vibrator, but decide to use just my fingers to avoid waking Dale. I'm close to the edge when he rolls over in his sleep and throws his arm across my chest. It stretches the lace of my nighty tautly across my rigid nipples and the sensation pushes me to my orgasm, the first in several weeks. I sigh in relief and soon turn so that Dale is spooning me.

I woke up still feeling a little bit excited. Dale was up and already off to work. I didn't have to be out the door for a while yet so I used my vibrator until I had enough of an orgasm to mellow me out. I guessed that being naughty was making me horny. I'd have to be careful about being so aroused in the evenings with Dale around. I wouldn't want to explain to him why it was so. But I had to think of some explanation for the approaching weekend away. My high-school friend Marla came to mind. She had moved away years ago, before I married Dale, but we had kept in touch sporadically throughout the years. She and Dale had met once or twice, so he would have a face to put with the name when I dropped it. I worked it in to the conversation over dinner Saturday after laundry, yard work, errands and chores were done.

The rest of the time leading up to the spa weekend was mostly uneventful, but I think I might have been more horny than usual. The batteries in the vibrator had gotten old and needed to be replaced and the spares didn't last long either.

I had the day off from work that Friday, so I spent most of the day picking out what I might want to wear over the weekend. Swimsuit, hiking apparel, pajamas and some casual evening wear, which was jeans and pullover. It was only going to be 2 nights, so I there was no need for much beyond that. I called Dale at work when I left and he told me to have a good time with Marla. It made me feel naughty again, so I had to switch underwear before the drive to Dahlonega.

When I got to the Inn early I entered the lobby to wait for Jessa. At 7:55 P.M., I assumed I was going to be stood up, but I wasn't about to walk away without enjoying the spa so I got in line to check in. I was startled when Jessa hugged me from behind. I had forgotten that she was rather demonstrative in the bar. She hugged me at Barbarossa's as well, but this time it was full body, not across my shoulder like that time. I feel her nipples at my back and I wonder if she is in a perpetual state of arousal. I bite my lip to stop from asking. She's talking a mile a minute and asking me if I need to eat something and she's practically jiggling and bouncing.

I ask if she's manic and I immediately regret saying anything. She's buoyant and I'm nervous. I need to get a grip, just like my boss told me to. Only my boss isn't here, and I'm certain she wouldn't approve of what I'm doing, so I end up getting flustered. All I can do at this point is follow Jessa's lead. And Jessa seems to be a take charge kind of personality. Soon after, I am stunned to learn that Jessa has only reserved one room for the both of us. I must have lost my mind, because now I'm being buffeted around unsure of where to go and what to do. Jessa has taken charge of me, and I'm only along for the ride.

The rest of the evening, though I am almost old enough to be this girl's mother, I'm being told what to do and where to go as if I am the child and she the mother. It's all so confusing and she's so assertive and persistent. I stare in awe at her boldness, her easiness with nudity, her nakedness, her birthmark. I don't feel the fog start to lift until we are in the hot tub and she is rubbing my shoulders and neck. But afterward in the room and in the shower I am once again off balance around her. I wouldn't be comfortable with my nudity in front of my daughter and yet Jessa seems to expect it. She seems to be sex personified and I feel like a moth gravitating toward flame.

I feel drunk before I even have my first glass of champagne and eventually tell her Dale's name. Did I just commit to introducing Jessa to Dale? I have moments of lucidity in between moments of being overwhelmed by sensuality. I feel like I've tethered myself to a shooting star and I'm being towed around the solar system in her wake. I start feeling groggy after a while and she tucks me in to bed. I almost object that I don't have my pajamas on, but then her hands are kneading the tension from my neck and shoulders. I can't resist how soothing and relaxing it is and I start to drift off to sleep. I don't even mind that she's spooning me. I was reminded of my teen-aged sleepovers with my best friend Marla when we would cuddle and talk for hours about this boy or that; whoever happened to be our crush of the week.

Sunlight filters through the window shade and curtain when Jessa's arm moves across me. I gasp as her finger nails lightly scrape across my left nipple which turns into a pebble as her palm cups my areola. I can't tell if Jessa is still asleep or awake and I'm afraid to look to see if she is watching me for a reaction when her knee moves toward my belly and her thigh slides over my hips and rests across my pelvis. I've neither had nor wanted to have another woman be sexually intimate with me before, so I am shocked when the heat starts building and my body eagerly anticipates more. When Jessa started grinding against my hip bone with her pussy getting slick and slicker by the moment all I could do was concentrate on breathing. My sex wanted attention and wanted filling. I was half way to an orgasm when she straddled me with her wetness.

My resolve to remain clear headed and just converse with Jessa the rest of the weekend was blasted to smithereens on the trail when she kissed me like no one else ever had. Luckily another trail walker interrupted before it went any further. But by then my thermostat had been set on high and my blood was simmering through lunch when we returned to the room. My resistance was nil when she started kissing me again. I couldn't believe how horny she got me with her lips and then devoured me with her mouth. Dale had more than a few times given me wonderful cunnilingus, but Jessa, vixen, seductress did things to my pussy with her lips and tongue that I never thought possible. She probed and prodded, nibbled and chewed until I was quite out of my mind and it seemed like my orgasm would never stop.

I awoke that evening before Jessa did and managed to climb into my pajamas, flannel armor, as if that would stop her or protect me from her mouth. I was half exhausted and felt as if another round would put me in coma for the duration. After I dutifully entered my contact information into her phone, she let me sleep until morning.

We were both ravenous and ate every last morsel of the breakfast supplied by the inn. Jessa and I decided to meet for lunch at The Cheesecake Factory in Alpharetta before the last leg of our homeward bound journey. Over lunch we talked more and she texted me her address, all of 6 miles away from my house. I learn that she works about the same hours Dale does, though she doesn't usually work much past 40 hours a week unlike Dale. She says that she has been known to pull late hours for deploying a production change to a database, whatever that is. The kids will be coming home for the summer break soon, but we plan a shopping trip to take advantage of the summer clearance sales a month from now.

Dale is out in front finishing the yardwork when we arrive home. "How was Marla Kat?"

"She cancelled at the last minute," I say. "But Jessa was checking in at the same time as I was, and we got to talking. She's a really sweet girl and I think we are going to be friends."

"I take it this is Jessa that followed you home?" Dale wipes his sweaty and grimy hands on a shop cloth and offers a hand shake.

Jessa bypasses his hand and throws her arms around his neck in a hug as if it's a normal occurrence for her to hug any old sweaty and grimy man. Dale looks perplexed but accepts it graciously without shrugging it off, though he doesn't appear to know what to do with his hands. That is probably how I would react if I was sweaty and grimy from yardwork and she hugged my neck. It brought a smile to my face. I think she might be made of Teflon. I take her on a tour through our house after she lets go of Dale's neck.

Over the next month we'd get together for coffee or tea and a couple of times Jessa asked Dale to help her with hanging a shelf up at her place. She told me she made passes at him but he seemed to slough them off so nothing became of that. When she took me shopping, like we had planned earlier, she wrangled her way into the dressing room with me. Teasing me as she was wont to do; Jessa made me hot and flustered and a bit damp between the legs. Back at her place, I was even weaker willed than on our spa weekend and unable to resist her ministrations until I passed out again from cumming so much. When consciousness was regained, I had to scrub all of her glossy lip prints off of my torso before going home. My desire got so bad that I started to daydream excuses to go see Jessa just to have her drive me wild with her tongue, but Dale's big project ended and I was left with fantasizing.

Eventually Jessa started coming to our place frequently and teasing us both with tender caresses. I don't know how Dale wasn't affected like I was but I ached for her when she left for the evening. Dale also increased his attentions toward me and tried to make up for time lost because of his project. Though my husband and I had sex more frequently after that I felt guilty comparing the way he licked me to the way Jessa licked me; comparing the way his hand felt cupping my breast to the way hers felt cupping my breast. His mouth just didn't seem to have the hunger for my sex the way Jessa's did. I was becoming thoroughly debauched, but I didn't care. Jessa was my friend and I wanted her friendship and I wanted her love and I wanted her sex.

Shortly after the kids returned to college from the summer break, I found time to spend another weekend with Jessa; a weekend in which we explored each other; with our tongues, with our fingers; until I thought I knew her body almost as well as my own. I finally understood the term friends with benefits.

September 30th, a Monday evening, I am preparing to start cooking dinner for Dale and myself when my cell phone rings. Jessa is calling, "Hi dear," I answer the phone, "What's up?"

"I'm lonely," she says in what sounds almost like a sob.

"You sound depressed. What's going on?"

"I need you. Can you come over?"

"I was about to make dinner, do you want to join us?"

"No. That will just make me all teary and snotty. Please come over? I need my best friend."

"Okay, I'll be there in a bit," as I finish the call.

I look up at Dale and say, "Dale dear, I've got to go take care of Jessa, she's about to melt down it sounds like."

"Okay Kat. I'll order a pizza so you'll have something to eat when you get back."

He kisses my cheek as I'm setting aside my apron and drying my hands. "Thanks, Dale."

I grab my wind-breaker and car key fob and head out the door. This is the first time I've heard Jessa sound anything other than buoyant, so I'm starting to worry. It doesn't take long to get there, but I'm anxious just the same. I park my SUV behind her Cooper and the sun starts dipping below the horizon. She gave me a key to her townhouse a couple of months ago, so I let myself in. She's not in the living area. I head back to her bedroom and find her face down on the bed. I set my purse and jacket on the dresser and sit next to her. I start rubbing her shoulders, "What's the matter?"

"It's my birthday today."

"Why didn't you tell me? I would have made you a cake and had you over for dinner!"

"I didn't want to make a big fuss. I never wanted to make a big fuss about my birthdays. Usually my mom or dad show up, but they couldn't make it this year." She sniffles a bit.

"You know Dale and I would make a fuss over you if we had known."

"But I didn't want to! I'm 30 today! I've got big girl panties! I was fine all day long, but it just hit me this evening... the big three oh."

"Oh, dear, it looks like it turned into a bigger deal than you thought," I say as I drape my shoulders across hers and stroke her arms. "Dale was going to order pizza. Are you sure you don't want to come over?"

"I'm sure, just hold me," Jessa says as she turns over in bed and wraps her arms around me and drags me further in. It's not the most comfortable position, so I straddle her belly tucking my knees beneath me. "Mmmmmm... thank you," as she hugs me tighter and starts kissing my neck. It's not long before her breath and kisses are starting to make me tingle. It also seems like she is starting to feel better too when she holds my cheeks in her hands and trails kisses from my collar bones up the middle of my neck to my chin. I feel my passion stirring again. She's captured me with her lips once again and I'm melting into her embrace. I can't stop my moan as her hands glide down the sides of my neck and gently start unbuttoning my blouse. My back arches and my cleavage presses against her lips as they make their way down. My breathing is heavy now, my nipples engorged and wanting attention. And they aren't wanting long before attention they get.

"Aahhh," I pant and try to get hold of her hands as they roam across and around my breasts, "wait... hah... hah... wait..." I try catching my breath, "It's your birthday girl... hah... hah... shouldn't I be making you feel better?"

"What makes you think your panting is not making me feel better?," she says as she grins coyly at me.

"Oh, you little devil you," as I bend down and bite her ribs at the base of her breast which causes her to squeal in delight and a fit of laughter.

That earns me an evil grin as she adds, "My turn!"

She attacks my right nipple with her mouth and I feel her teeth gripping just tightly enough to stimulate but also keep me from yanking away and her tongue starts flicking my tight little bud until all thought is driven from my head and all I can do is pant and squirm and squeal and get wetter and wetter between my legs. Once she is done dominating my nipple and my brain knows it is a brain again she relents.

Somehow she is now on top of me. I don't remember how that happened.

"Hey. Do you want to help me open my birthday present?"

"You bought yourself a birthday present... I can't imagine why you need my help opening it."

"Because silly, I need you for the surprise on your face at the reveal!"

I raise one eyebrow at her and wonder if I can feign surprise upon seeing a sex toy, "Okay?"

"Goody," she exclaims and jumps off the bed and opened her dresser drawer. Turning around, Jessa is holding a strip of black satin, narrow with slightly variegated seamed edge. "Let's get this on you sweetie."

Jessa ties the blindfold around my head which is filled with a mixture of apprehension and anticipation. Afterward, she gently pushes me back down flat on the bed. Her hands brush the shoulders of my blouse further exposing more of my upper body. She cups my breasts again and teases my nipples into hard buds.

I feel her fiddling with the button at the waistband of my shorts and I ask, "I thought you were going to get your present?"

"I will, but I'm hungry for cheesecake and you happen to be the only cheesecake handy," as my shorts and panties are slid passed my bum and down off my legs.

"But," and I'm soon panting when I feel her mouth engulf my clit and Jessa sucks and swirls her tongue round and round inside reaching for my g-spot. My vagina is getting so wet and the edge of my orgasm approaches.

Jessa stops for a moment, "wait there, and don't touch yourself," as she leaves the bed. I hear rummaging sounds from her closet and my hips are undulating and I won't be able to wait much longer. "Oh my, it looks like my present has already opened itself," and her fingers enter my parted slit and bring forth a moan from deep in my throat when they slide in and out against that most sensitive spot.

I shudder from my first orgasm around her still moving fingers, and the heat quickly builds up again. When she says, "You can look now," I spasm once more but manage to raise the blindfold up off my eyes. I look down at her kneeling between my legs still working her fingers in and out to my next orgasm. Then she removes her hand from my still throbbing mound and starts rubbing my juices along the shaft of a dildo I've seen before, though not in actual use. It's a nine inch tentacle shaped dildo that I haven't even imagined using. It's mind boggling to behold, but what's new is that Jessa is wearing a harness holding the base of this dildo against her mound and aiming the tip at my oversensitive sex.

"Oh God, help me, I'm about to be raped to death by a tentacled demon child," I cry.

Jessa pins my mouth as I wail in pain and ecstasy from the sudden overstuffing of my love canal. My squeals and moans are muffled as she sucks them out of my throat while I taste myself, my sex on her lips and tongue. My hands clench the sheets. The tip of the tentacle tickles my cervix and sets me thrashing about underneath. Jessa then started grinding against me and with every stroke I'm feeling the bumps and ridges and whorls stretching my blood engorged clit. I have I don't know how many rapid fire climaxes when Jessa reaches her climax and I feel her squirting orgasm drenching my thighs. My eyes roll back into my head and I explode in one last gut wrenching orgasm that hurts so good I'm seeing only flashes of white light.

Once the euphoria wears off and I start feeling uncomfortable still being impaled by that monster dildo I tell Jessa, "Happy birthday dear. Now please move." Unfortunately, she moves to start grinding her hips again.

"Oooof, owwww, not that way, let me up, it hurts," I complain.

"I'm sorry Kitty Kat. I hope you had as much fun as I did," as she extracted herself and dildo from me.

"There should be a limit on that kind of fun. Now, promise me you won't ever use that thing on me again. You've almost split me in two. I'll be sore for days."

I lean over and kiss her, "Do you feel better about your birthday now sweetie?"

"I do, tons better."

"Come on then, let's get a shower."

It's almost 3 weeks later that I get the text message from Jessa. The text that would signal I should come to her place and catch Dale in her bed. There's no going back on it now, no chance to cancel the plan to have her sleep with Dale. I'm not really feeling remorse over it; it's just that I realize the finality of the moment; when things change to after from before.

Like the thunder that rolls through the north Georgia hills and sneaks up on you in a flash, I realize then that I lied to myself all those months ago that I was not a cuckquean because I wasn't interested in watching them have sex. It was a seminal moment for me to realize that I had just been cucked and it was nobody's fault but mine own. I don't think I had ever experienced an existential moment before that.

I would be expected at Jessa's townhouse in about 10 to 15 minutes time. Maybe it was time to reassess whether I was still unhappy being married to Dale; time to reassess what I really wanted from this moment on. My best friend had just had sex with my husband. Correction, my best friend and my lover had just had sex with my husband. My husband had just had sex with my best friend and lover. Correction, my husband and lover had just had sex with my best friend and lover.

Damn; I really am a cuckquean. There are people out there that would shave my head, tie me naked to a pole and parade me about in public and slut-shame me. The thought made me kind of sick to think about. I told my boss I wasn't feeling well; I needed to go home. I clocked out and left work. Instead of going home I turned toward Jessa's place. The distance and time were ticking steadily downward and I hadn't decided what I wanted to do yet.

I parked in a visitor spot available in the townhouse common area and shut off my SUV. It wasn't a long walk to Jessa's and I still had the key she had given me so I let myself in. The light was low in the living area when I entered. For some unknown reason my attention is caught on the first door of the hallway. A door I had not ever seen open in all the times I had been here. An innocuous little sign on it read -- Jessa World. Why was I curious about it all of a sudden? Maybe I was just delaying the inevitable as long as possible. I stopped and peeked through the door. Jessa is so sensual it makes sense that the room labeled Jessa would look like a sex toy shop. I marveled at the sheer variety of toys and lubricants all organized in cases on one side of the room. The tentacle toy she had used on me once had been sort of intimidating and painful enough. There were a couple toys on her case shelves that I thought would possibly cripple me for life. With my curiosity now satisfied, I quietly closed the door.

In Jessa's bedroom Dale is sprawled across her bed; she is presumably in her ensuite bathroom; the door is closed. What flashes through my mind upon seeing Dale is not that he had been unfaithful, but rather any other of a half dozen times or more he might have walked in to see me lying there exhausted and sleeping with sex juices drying on my pussy.

It clicked into place; I knew then what I must do. It would be painful, oh so painful. But like a Band-Aid, it's better to rip it off quickly all at once.

"Dale, wake up!" my voice just loud enough to rouse him from his sexual stupor. I see guilt wash across his face as he tries to cover himself. I pull his clothes up off the floor and hand them to him, "Get dressed. We're going home."

I look at the bathroom door and I can tell that is where Jessa is hiding, so I step over and open it up. She is startled and slips; landing on her butt with a wet splat, "I can explain."

"No need," I reply. My poor dear Jessa - best friend and lover - sits naked on the floor at a loss for words. I look back at Dale; lightly grasp his fingers and whisper, "I'll meet you at home. We need to talk dear." He nods lightly and turns toward the door.

"But," she stammers and stops.

I pause, my voice almost catching in my throat, "Be well Jessa. We're going to reconcile and we won't be seeing you again." There, Band-Aid ripped off, here comes the sting.

"What? Why?" Jessa pleads.

"We need to concentrate on each other without you pestering either one of us for sex," I tell her as gently as possible. I think this will be stinging her as much as it is stinging me.

Jessa quickly crawls forward and clutches at my dark green suit skirt, the one I wore when I first met her. "I can be good. I need you, I need Dale, please, don't do this."

"My dear Jessa," and I stroke her cheek which confirms that this is stinging her as much as me for her cheeks are wet with tears, "As wonderful as the past weeks have been, as sexy as you are; I have no doubt that given enough time you can be good. But there's just no other way to do this."

I tell myself to be firm and not give in to my wretched crumbling heart. I force myself to walk out after leaving her house key on the kitchen counter. My eyes are watery and stinging on my walk back to my SUV. I am determined to make it all the way home before the waterworks start, and I just about do. I parked in my driveway and couldn't see to go in for crying.

When my tears subside for the moment, I get out of my vehicle and metaphorically hitch up my big girl panties determined to get through the rest the day without crying. It's useless of course, I know I will be bawling and blubbering at least once more before the day is done. But time to face the music. One way or another, Dale deserves an explanation and an apology for my behavior for the last few months. I dread it terribly, but we won't be able to heal until I manage to do it.

When I walk in, Dale is sitting at the dining room table staring at a glass of water. When he becomes aware of my presence, guilt clouds his features again, "I'm sorry Kat. I'm not sure why I did it.... But I slept with your friend Jessa. Maybe you can forgive me, if not today, sometime?"

Ugh, coward that I am, my craven nature is tempted to just tell him it's okay and not tell him anything else. I quail at the thought that I have to tell him that all of it was my fault, that I put her up to it. I'm afraid that he will be severely pissed at me and tell me to leave, or walk out and divorce me. I curse my luck. I curse my cupidity, whatever possessed me to lust after something other than my husband.

"Say something Kat."

It startles me out of my introspective state. I hang my head in shame and mumble, "I'm sorry too Dale," and that's all I manage to get out before tears start welling up in my eyes again.

"Hear me out Kat. You've got to try at least to forgive me! I still love you; this was just a moment of weakness!"

Shit, I'm even screwing up my apology and he thinks I'm saying something else. I walk over and kneel beside him, wrapping my arms around his mid-section. I start bawling but manage to blurt, "It's my fault!" I'm still stinging from walking out on my best friend and lover, Jessa. I'm stinging from needing to tell him that I put Jessa up to seducing him. I'm still stinging from needing to confess that Jessa was my lover before she was his. I'm feeling so fucked up not knowing where to start and I can't seem to get anything past my tears. My tears are steadily making a puddle in his lap.

Dale puts his arm around my shoulders and strokes my hair. It consoles me enough to help me draw a damper on my crying jag.

"What did you mean by - We need to concentrate on each other without you pestering either one of us for sex?" Damn me, he was not supposed to hear that, "Jessa's made passes at me almost since she followed you home. Has she been making passes at you also?"

"Oh God... I'm so sorry Dale... we've been having sex since I met her at the spa weekend," I start bawling again before I get all the sordid details aired out. More truth needs to be exposed but my voice is getting raw and my eyes won't stop tearing.

"Huh..." I cling to him tighter afraid of being pushed away now. "I... uh... I did not see that coming."

After a few moments of silence he brushes my hair away from my eyes.

"Dale," my voice sounds gravelly to my ears, "I have more to confess."

I don't hear anything for long moments so I try to be brave and look up at his face to gauge whether it is safe to continue. He looks pensive, but he hasn't pushed me aside yet, so maybe he's ready, but I hesitate until he looks down at my face. His gaze softens a bit, "Tell me Kat."

I gulp; this damn Band-Aid is tougher to pull off than the last one, but I continue "I found Jessa through an adult online personal ad website." I blushed, although it may not have been evident considering how red and puffy my eyes were from crying. And now, just one last bit to yank off the wound; I rushed through the confession "I tried to find somebody to seduce you so that I could catch you and divorce you because of adultery, and I end up being seduced and I've changed my mind I don't want a divorce I just want you to forgive me." By that point my eyes had blurred and tears had started streaming down my cheeks again so I couldn't see how Dale took this revelation. I sobbed, "Please, please forgive me?"

I still couldn't see his face, but he cupped my ears in his palms and touched his forehead to mine so I thought maybe it would be safe to go on living.

"Come here Kat." He led me to the living room and we lay down on the sofa. He spooned me and cradled me in his arms until my sobbing subsided and we fell asleep, well until I fell asleep. The next morning I felt emotionally wrung out and hung over from crying, dehydrated too. I went to the kitchen and drained a full glass of water after filling it then filled it again. Dale made coffee and offered me a cup prepared the way I like it. We sat at the dining room table and he asked, "Where do we go from here?"

"In the interest of honesty, I think I should show you my login on the personal ad website and you can watch while I delete the account."

"Will you show me all of the messages also?" he asked.

I blushed at that but it was a valid request since I was resolved to hide nothing from him. I shook my head yes. After we finished our coffee; that is what we did. I logged on to the website and showed him my account and all of the messages I hadn't already deleted months ago. As I sat there wearing my shame like a rosy red frame, he browsed and read every last message in my account. He didn't ask any questions, but at the end he indicated it was okay for me to delete the account. I even checked the box in the exit questionnaire to delete all data including the messages. I also deleted the bookmark for the personal ad website.

I offered to show him all my text messages with Jessa and offered to delete those as well. Dale said he didn't think it would be necessary. Jessa had both of our cell phone numbers as well, and we couldn't stop her from calling or texting if she was of a mind to. "Just let me know if she contacts you again, okay Kat? If one of us is going to be talking or texting with her we should both be there. I doubt she would try to seduce the both of us at the same time."

My pussy got damp then and I blushed in response. "Oh God," I said, "Jessa can be relentless, she just might try it."

"You're kidding."

"No dear, you don't understand. She's a bona fide nymphomaniac. I think she would fuck a statue if it had a pulse, and maybe even if it didn't!"

"Should I try to take your mind off of her?"

I said, "Yes! Please!"

Dale stood up and was turning to go upstairs to bed. I grabbed his hand and said, "No, here, now," as I whipped off my panties and lay on the dining room table. "Use your mouth on me," I said huskily. I positioned my hips near the edge of the table in front of the chair he was in so that he could sit again if he wanted. Raising my hands I beckoned to him, ready to feel his lips and tongue on my sex.

"Did Jessa..."

And there it was. He probably wanted to know if Jessa had ever eaten my pussy on a table like this. My eyes began tearing and stinging again. Whatever had possessed me to assume he would be turned on by my urgency to have his attention? "Oh, Dale, it's too soon. It's too soon after I confessed my betrayal, isn't it?" I wept. I became a pathetic weepy mess lying on the kitchen table with my legs spread and no panties on. "I'm sorry."

Dale took my hand and pulled me up, sitting on the edge of the table. He picked me up and carried me back to the living room sofa, sat down with me in his lap and he hugged me. I cried more on his shoulder and he stroked the back of my head.

"Kat, Kat, maybe it is too soon. I found myself wondering if you would be comparing my performance to Jessa's, but considering what you confessed last night, maybe you have been for the past few months. I'm trying to forgive. I won't be able to forget, at least, not for a while."

Dale was right of course. I realized right there that I had been comparing them both for months. If my affair had gone on longer I might have ended up calling one or the other by the wrong name. Jessa would probably have laughed it off. With Dale though, my marriage would probably have turned into cinder and ash in a flash. Now if it happens, there might be a possibility of surviving the mistake, of continuing to heal our relationship. That was my hope anyway.

Since the beginning, when I introduced Jessa to Dale, I called her my friend. It was a lie of convenience at first in my addle-pated desire for a change in my sex life. My sex life had already changed at that point though. I had been seduced by the seductress I had found to seduce Dale. It didn't take long afterward for me to actually think of her as my friend. Now I had to figure out if I liked Jessa because of the sex or because I really wanted a friend. I felt like a really shitty friend at that point in my life. Jessa had tried so very hard to please me and give me what I said I wanted. Then when my betrayal of Dale had finally sunk in, I turned around and betrayed her; walked out of her life to make amends with Dale. It was no wonder she hadn't tried contacting me again since that afternoon.

It took a few weeks before Dale and I felt comfortable enough to have sex again. We went back to our standard fare, missionary, cowgirl, and reverse cowgirl. It was satisfying and Dale was as attentive as ever, though now he couldn't get interested in giving me oral. I had no qualms about giving him head and licking and sucking his cock, so I made sure there was more of that in our sex life. I also practiced giving him hand jobs. I wasn't that great at it to begin with, that's why it was mostly practice. But it was another thing to spice up our love life. I was determined not to get bored with Dale as my only sex partner.

After about 3 months our life seemed to be settling into a new normal. Our sex life was getting fairly regular again when Dale kissed me on the mouth while I was panting away and getting close to my orgasm. All of a sudden my mind flooded with the memory of when Jessa had drilled into me using her tentacle dildo as a strap-on and it took me from nice safe loving orgasm straight to hang on for dear life I want to climax to death orgasm. I screamed my climax down his throat and bucked and shook under him like a brood mare being mounted by a prize stallion.

When we both had our breath again, Dale said, "Wow, Kat. That was a first!"

I burst into tears then, because it wasn't the first time like that for me, and now I had something else that I needed to confess because I hadn't yet told him about the night of Jessa's 30th birthday and how my heart was aching because I missed her so much. When he asked, I blubbered out my story as best I could.

It seemed to me that the parable of the New Wine and Old Wine Skin was rapidly becoming a fairly apt metaphor for my life. I, Katrina Starnes, debauched wife, was the new wine. Not as tasty as the old wine, the chaste, faithful non-debauched Katrina. Here we were trying to pour the new wine into the old wineskin, my old marriage to Dale Starnes. It doesn't work. The new wine will ruin the old wineskin, causing it to leak and spill the new wine on the ground. It was another existential moment for me. I was in a funk for days after that and Dale kept reassuring me that we would get past this too. I tried to thank him. I promised him I would be better eventually.

I asked Dale if he could see the light at the end of the tunnel, because I sure as hell couldn't. I was scared, I was lonely; I judged that I was unpalatable for Dale and unworthy of forgiveness. A week later Dale told me that we should go on a date, "Thursday evening when I get home from work, we will go out to dinner."

When Dale arrived home I was having a mild crying jag in bed because I couldn't decide what to wear on our date. The makeup I had applied a half hour ago was streaky and would need to be redone. I was afraid of disappointing Dale on our date. He sat on the bed next to me and rubbed my back, "Pull yourself together, Kat."

"I can't decide what to wear."

"Okay. Wear that charcoal gray pinstripe skirt and your Kelly green silk blouse. You always look great in that."

"It's one of the outfits Jessa picked for me on a shopping trip."

"Well, you've got to admit she has great taste in clothing, right?"

"So hurry up," he said and patted my butt, "or you'll make us late."

I daubed my teary eyes and said, "Yes dear. I'll get ready now."

It's about 8:45 P.M. when Dale parks his car near Barbarossa's and helps me out of the door. We slowly walk the short distance to the front door. I'm starting to wonder if I am going to need to make another confession this evening. When I walk through the door I see her. Jessa is sitting in a booth looking down at her table. I stop and can't take another step. Dale's hand is on the small of my back and urging me forward.

"But... Jessa is here. She might see us, we should go somewhere else."

"Don't you think Jessa has been punished enough darling?" He gestures the way forward saying, "Come on, our date is waiting."

Then I notice the carnation in his outstretched hand and my eyes grow wide even though I still can't bring myself to take another step forward. Dale edges past me and takes my hand. Gently he tugs me toward Jessa's booth. He stops there and places his carnation on the table next to hers and says, "J, I'm D."

I can't help myself any more, I have to say, "Mind if we join you?"

Jessa starts tearing up as she gets very emotional. She tearfully says, "I missed you guys," as her tears start dripping onto the table top. I sit down and cradle her in my arm. If I say anything I will get all snotty too, so I let Dale take it from here.