Puncture

Editor: Techsan

*

I kissed Harry, my four year old son, goodbye, said "Cheerio," to my parents and walked out to my car. It was only forty minutes from home where Sarah, my wife of five years, was waiting for me but half-way there I pulled into a lay-by on a deserted country road and switched off the engine. From the boot of the car I removed a claw hammer, then went to crouch in front of the front near-side tyre. Lest I be accused of sheer stupidity this early in my story, I should point out that I had selected the tyre most in need of replacement.

From the pocket of my jacket I removed a single three inch nail and this I very deliberately hammered into the tyre. The time was seven thirty in the evening, not long after the clocks had gone back, so this small exercise was conducted more by feel than by sight. It was at this point that I encountered the first snag in my plan because, although there was a rush of air as the nail went in, the metal effectively sealed the hole preventing any more from escaping. I thought that I had everything I would need placed readily to hand but now I had to root round for a pair of pliers and a torch. Thankfully, using these I was able to wiggle the nail until the tyre began to noticeably deflate.

The task complete, I got back into the car and lit a cigarette. I was trembling all over. It was almost fifteen minutes before I felt sure that my voice would betray no agitation but I then dialled my home number on my mobile. "Sorry love, bit of a snag, I seem to have picked up a puncture," I told my wife. "I've an idea it might be a nail so I'm going to have to change the sodding thing. It shouldn't take me too long if the garage hasn't virtually welded the wheel nuts on like they did last time. If Matt gets there before I arrive, try to keep him amused. I won't be very long."

I had won my wife on the rebound so to speak. She had been going out with a guy called Terry for almost three years, had been engaged to him for six months and was only three months away from the wedding when he dumped her and married someone else. Sarah's parents were rather fanatical Christians with strict moral views and they had not only brainwashed her with their principles but also managed to leave her extremely naive.

I met her only weeks after the end of her romance and, not being the pushy type myself, I was happy to lend a sympathetic ear. We just hit it off and I very quickly realised that I was serious about her. It was at that point that Sarah felt the need to confess to me that, despite her strict upbringing, she was not a virgin.

"I had sex with Terry twelve times," she told me. "Before we were engaged I always said 'No' but afterward I felt I had to give him something although my parents would kill me if they knew. The trouble was that Terry was soon not satisfied with just making love and wanted to do all sorts of disgusting things. I wouldn't let him and I also punished him for asking by not letting him have anything the next time we had the chance. Then not long before we would have been married, this other girl turned up pregnant saying it was Terry's and he believed her. She had been in my class at school and had a terrible reputation even then. It seemed he had been having sex with her all the time we were engaged and probably before as well. The upshot was that he married her instead of me. A friend of mine who knows a lot about this girl says that the odds against the baby really being his are roughly five to one."

Sarah's relative innocence was irresistibly attractive to me because I was also very inexperienced. I used to be an athlete specialising in the 800 and 1500 metres and all my spare time was devoted to training right from early years at school. I was a champion runner at school and it was this success that drove me to try and take it further. Every night I was out running, doing distance work to build up stamina and fast laps for speed. In addition there were the long sessions in the gym, mainly on weight exercises for my leg muscles. I got as good as I could possibly get but I think I lacked real natural ability because no matter how I tried I was always a couple of seconds off the times that would have raised me to national level and the chance of real money.

So when I finally gave up and returned to normal life I was both shy and inept with girls. I did have girl friends but a lot packed me in for 'being too slow' and those that I tried to be more adventurous with wouldn't let me. A friend once advised me, 'Never ask girls if you can do something because they will always refuse - just go ahead and do it. Sometimes you will get your faced slapped but the majority just lie back and enjoy it.' Maybe this friend had the answer but I never tried to put this into practice because it was at this point that I met Sarah. Nowadays from what I hear, girls open their legs as readily as shaking hands (except with me).

As I saw it, I stood little chance of ever meeting another girl so nearly 'almost a virgin,' so not liking the idea of having a wife who had done it with dozens of other guys, I asked Sarah to marry me. We were spliced six months to the day from the date of her aborted ceremony.

I haven't mentioned that Sarah is very attractive. She also has a lovely figure, is a very good cook and has a modest, very loving nature so by all normal criteria I was an exceptionally fortunate man. Being married was heaven and I honestly believed that the cuddling, kissing and making love were all that I could ever want. Some might say that we were like kids playing house and had we had a more adult approach to marriage it is likely that Sarah would not have fallen pregnant so quickly.

The traumas of a new baby are well-documented and I have to say that Harry was far from an easy child. Even when the tiredness of broken nights had receded into the distance, Sarah never seemed to stop wearing her 'mother' head. For example, we always had our bedroom door open so that we could hear him in his cot but then Sarah became bothered when it came to lovemaking for fear that he could hear us. It was because I felt neglected that I bought a PC and of course, once I had one, I gravitated to the Internet.

For a long time I was perfectly happy flicking from porn site to porn site, taking all the free tours. Looking at all the pictures certainly got me very aroused but believing that to masturbate would be disloyal, I finished up in bed feeling even more frustrated. Then almost by accident, I finished up on a site with a vast library of erotic stories and what I read was a revelation to me. It was 'all that you want to know about sex' and I was astounded to realise how little I actually did know. I learned one hell of a lot but my most galling discovery was to see how very restricted my own sex life was compared to the fortunate men who were featured in the stories.

I never saw my wife naked and she always wore a cumbersome nightie in bed. I could play with her tits as much as I liked but her cunt was a very different matter. She did not refuse to let me touch her there completely but invariably kept her legs so close together that the most I could insert was one finger and that not very far in at all. When it came to actual copulation, the old missionary position was 'the only decent way to do it' and even here you might have thought that she had a physical disability which prevented her legs spreading very wide. Generally in the middle of the act she panted a little bit and for five years of marriage I was able to convince myself that this was an orgasm.

Now had Sarah been unquestionably frigid my only option would be to settle for a puritan home life and find my sexual kicks elsewhere but I had good reason to believe that this was not the case. You see, Sarah had dreams of a definitely erotic nature. She always denied dreaming when I questioned her but her behaviour in bed when asleep left no doubt in my mind. At some point during every night that I managed to stay awake, she went into dream mode and sometimes her thrashing legs awakened me even when I had drifted off.

When dreaming, Sarah put her hands behind her head and lay with her legs so far apart that it was almost the splits. Then, for sometimes as long as an hour she would breathe heavily, groan and move her pelvis in an unmistakable rutting motion. As final confirmation, those times that I dared to tentatively sneak my hand between her legs, I invariably found her twat to be extremely hot and wet. Is it any wonder I became convinced that I was married to a sexual powerhouse trapped inside a lovely but brainwashed exterior?

The question was how to jolt her out of the straight-laced prison that her parents had built around her. One night, inspired by an internet story and remembering the maxim ' Do - don't ask', I crawled up the bed and forced the head of my stiff cock against my loved one's lips.

Sarah angrily pushed it away shouting, "Don't tell me you are turning into another pervert like Terry - that is exactly the kind of filthy thing he always wanted me to do."

Another night when my wife was in the midst of a right royal shagging session with her personal incubus, I tried to replace the seductive sprite with my own very stiff organ. The trouble was that Sarah woke and in the transition from sleep to wakefulness she switched instantly from wanton to puritan mode.

"What do you think you are doing, Alan?" she scolded, " - you know very well that this is not one of the nights I let you do it."

Less adventurously, I often took advantage of her dream state to get my hand between her wide flung thighs. Several times I managed to work up to three digits inside her juicy twat and enjoyed the sensuous pleasure of feeling her unknowingly humping my fingers. The big snag was that if I was too rough or did things too suddenly she woke up to tell me that I was technically guilty of assault. My claim of being asleep myself cut little ice for Sarah simply said, "I don't care if you are awake or asleep, if I can't go to sleep without fear of being molested then it is time to seriously consider having separate beds."

Attacking on a different front one evening at no little expense, I brought home a pornographic video but the moment that Sarah realised what it was I was forced to immediately remove the offensive cassette from the house and return it unseen to my source. I decided that the problem lay with me or the inevitable effects of marriage and familiarity. If you would secretly like to do something but had big reservations, it had to be hard to try it for the first time with someone who you would be walking round a supermarket with the following morning. On the other hand it must be far easier if you would either never see that person again or only in a similar sexual context. The inescapable conclusion of this line of logic was that I needed to introduce a third person into the equation.

One evening when Sarah was in a good mood, I gradually worked round to the subject of wife swapping.

"What would be the point?" she asked with genuine puzzlement.

I decided to lay my cards on the table. "I think that we could get a whole lot more pleasure out of sex than we do," I told her frankly. "I do see though that after so long it is hard to suddenly start doing something different even though we might both secretly fancy the idea. With strangers we can try whatever we like with no recriminations because we never need see them again."

"But where does love come into it?"

"It doesn't. Love is what we are sharing now, darling, sitting here happily with our boy asleep upstairs. Sex is the pleasure that can be gotten from the body and I'm sure that we have no idea what we are missing. Sex and love can be combined but it is not at all necessary."

Sarah sat quietly and for a fantastic few moments I thought she was considering what I had said but then she shook her head. "No - this is just a trick to let you have it with other women and get them to do those things that I am too shy to try."

Despite my disappointment I got a boost to hear that it was shyness rather than distaste that inhibited her. "You're wrong," I said. "It is not necessary for me to go with the wife - I would be satisfied just for you to have sex with the husband. That is what real love is - I would be happy for you to have sex with another man because I know you would get a lot of pleasure out of it. I really wish you would."

Sarah just said, "You really are a very strange man," to terminate the discussion but I took heart from the fact that I had managed to bring up the subject without her getting angry.

A few days later in a public convenience, one of the items written on the wall read, 'I will fuck your wife while you watch'. This seemed to be the answer because, with no other females involved, I could not be suspected of ulterior motives - so I rang the number provided. I was very impressed by the businesslike way the guy on the other end conducted the conversation because I felt it showed he had done this sort of thing before.

Without asking for names he enquired about my situation and then listed his own virtues, cock length, stamina and specialities before stating what he would not do. Ruled out completely was any involvement by me. I said that I would think about it but almost promised to ring again. However, driving home, the very obvious truth struck me - Sarah was far less likely to do things with a stranger but with me watching than she would with me by myself. So another great plan bit the dust.

It was so frustrating because all that I needed was a single spark. But then the word 'spark' struck a chord and I kicked myself for not having thought of it sooner. I knew a guy who was perfect for the job. Before explaining I will digress to mention a conversation that happened at my office. We were discussing the TV program ER when one chap said, "I am usually very jealous but if I found out that my wife had enjoyed a fling with that George Clooney, I don't think it would upset me at all. Part of the reason is that he comes over as a really nice guy but the main thing is that I could understand why she did it." Now Matt Greenboro, softly spoken and coincidentally also an American, is not quite in that league of good looks but if people were sorted into boxes, he would certainly finish up in a box not too far from the film star.

Although from the USA, Matt had lived in this country more or less permanently for the last five years. The previous year he had been at the firm where I work for three months putting in computer systems and during that time I struck up a good rapport with him. He wore a very wide band wedding ring and when I enquired about his wife he laughed and told me that he was not married and only wore the ring as a ploy. Later on I asked how he managed to have a sex life as he was constantly moving about the country with three months here and three months there.

"I seduce young married women so the moving about suits me perfectly and that is where the fake wedding ring comes in," he said.

I immediately queried this, saying that I thought a wedding ring would handicap seduction and anyway, surely young married women were the hardest category of females to seduce. Matt grinned and told me the following.

"First, the ring gives them a false sense of security, especially when I lay it on how happily married I am. It hides the fact that I am coming on to them until it is too late. Seducing young married women is actually as easy as plucking ripe fruit off a tree providing that you choose the right ones and are prepared to spot the potential behind unwashed hair, no make-up and sloppy clothes. I specifically target mothers whose only or youngest child has just started school. When a couple first marry they fuck like rabbits until the wife gets pregnant and then it all changes. There are broken nights, shortage of money and the wife is responsible for the child all day every day for the next four years and that is extremely tiring in itself.

"Eventually the child starts school and the young mother finds that she has six hours every day to herself. At first she welcomes the freedom but with no established pattern of activity for the new situation, it is not long before she starts to get bored. Around this time she begins to feel like a woman again instead of just a mother but has no motivation to do anything about it. Hubby is no help because he has been on short rations for so long that he has forgotten that life was ever any different so he just keeps his head below the parapet and carries on in the same sweet way."

"Enter the seducer," Matt said dramatically but lessened the effect with a cheeky wink. "In the morning I go along to a junior school and stand amongst the mothers and children waiting to be let into the reception class. Having picked my target I find something to enthuse about in her child and this invariably leads to an exchange of pleasantries and I am asked if I have a child in that class. At that point, I look embarrassed and admit that I am standing there under false pretences, explaining that I miss my wife and two kids back in the states whom I have not seen for three months. I say that watching other small children eases the pain and then I generally flash this photo."

The snap that Matt showed me had himself and a rather attractive woman posed with each balancing a small child on their knee - it looked a very happy family group.

"It's actually my sister and her kids but it has earned me one hell of a lot of sympathy over the years," Matt grinned, his disarming smile seemed to lessen the cynicism.

"So they say, 'You poor man, I must take you home to bed and make you feel better,' do they?" I quipped.

"I don't work quite that quickly," Matt admitted. "The following night at home time and every night until I spot her, I hang about outside the school gates. When I see the mother I have zeroed in on, I just wave and say something about not being able to stay away from the place. Nothing more - it sounds like a small thing but in some strange way it establishes the fact that we know each other. So the next morning outside the classroom I can quite openly approach her and start talking. If she has smartened up or put on some lip-stick I know right then that I am on to a certainty. When she has handed young Johnny or Sue over to the teacher I suggest that she might like a coffee. Alternatively if the weather is bad and she has not got transport I offer a lift and bring up the subject of coffee en route. Very few refuse and a lot, not wanting to be taken somewhere smart in their scruffs, prefer to take me to their homes for the coffee. Even those who are cautious the first time take me home with them the next.

A psychologist recently claimed that he could take any reasonably compatible man and woman at random and put them in a situation where they would inevitably finish up screwing. His law states that 'the availability of opportunity makes sex irresistible'. It works. I know because having made first base I've never yet come away without scoring a home run. The fact that I am always moving on is a big help because it does away with any fear the woman might have about getting stuck with an involvement. I also reckon that I do the husband a big favour because I put a spark into their sex lives that would have possibly taken years to burst into flame otherwise - if ever."

"Are there any women that your conscience would not let you seduce?" I remember asking.

"None at all. What is there to feel guilty about? As I said, I'm convinced that I actually do the husbands a really good turn."

As I said, that conversation occurred a year previously but the significant fact was that Matt was back at my firm and half way through a new three month contract putting in a new small system and updating the earlier one. Matt was the ideal solution and the only problem that remained was working out exactly how I was going to introduce this temporary colleague into my wife's bed.