Abuse by the Muse

Abuse by the Muse, Chapter Four

Thanks again to MikePaulWrites for his keen editor's eye. (And I hope you'll read his many excellent stories on this platform!). Gotta say it again: there's some dirty low-down cheating in this story and NO RETRIBUTION! So yes, our protagonist puts up with a highly unacceptable circumstance. If you find that notion intolerable, you might want to choose any of the other fine tales that Literotica offers, but don't say you weren't warned.

Chapter 4: Bumble and stumble.

"About me," I'd written on my Bumble profile. "Coffee snob, movie buff, graphic design whiz and yoga enthusiast. Married guy in an open relationship looking for a new friend with benefits for great conversation, mutual respect, and a shared no-strings adventure."

Within three days of posting, I had a promising match. Amanda lived about 30 miles away, just north of our Millport home in the town of Cloverdale. It was perfect: close enough for an easy drive, far enough so we wouldn't be too likely to be seen by friends and neighbors. We met for lunch at a place in her town and we exchanged our stories.

She was a high school English teacher. She'd been married for three years before she discovered her husband's serial affairs. Not just a single infidelity, but several, as it turned out.

His lies had become brazen, and when she finally saw through them and had incontrovertible proof of his betrayals, she felt like a fool. There was a bit of violence, a restraining order, a messy divorce that was finalized over a year ago. A friend tried to set her up with someone, but there had been no spark there. Too nervous to try the bar scene (and there wasn't that much scene to be tried in Cloverdale), she'd remained celibate until now. I liked this woman. Smart, sweet, pretty in a very different way from Tippi. When I suggested a Friday night date, she accepted.

Despite the success of our first meeting, Amanda seemed nervous when we met for dinner at the Appleby's down the street from Cloverdale's Hampton Inn. I had already registered at the hotel and left my overnight bag there. Amanda had hers with her. She was a bit overdressed for Appleby's in a sexy burgundy dress, its soft merino wool clinging to her skin and accentuating her generously apportioned contours. She was not a slender woman, but the curves of hips and the volume of her breasts had a sexy, pillowy quality, and as I walked behind her to reach our table, my eyes fixed on her ample butt and my penis stirred in anticipation. I knew it wouldn't take much to arouse me but just for an extra edge, I'd borrowed a Cialis from one of my colleagues and I popped it to give myself a little more confidence. I had visions of a long, sweet night of sex.

We both tried our best at feigning nonchalance over our plates of Appleby's bland food. She offered to split the tab, but I insisted on taking the check. She had taken an Uber to the restaurant, so she rode with me as I drove the few blocks down Highway 20 to the hotel.

We stepped past the bored-looking front desk clerk and took the elevator to the fourth floor. We walked side by side down the green-carpeted corridor to our room. Once inside, I reached out to pull her close against me in a light embrace. I kissed the top of her head, her neck and finally, her lips, opening my mouth and gently pressing my tongue against hers. We stayed in that embrace for a long minute, and then I slowly reached behind her to unzip her dress. She remained passive, her breath heavy, her eyes wide. The dress slipped off and pooled by her feet, leaving her in a lacy black bra and panties. As I started to unbuckle my belt, she began to noiselessly cry.

I stood still, unsure if I should reassure her or just let her have her moment. I felt helpless in front of this sweet, weeping woman. I had no playbook to refer to.

She finally whispered, looking away, her eyes turned toward the floor. She seemed to shudder, drawing in her shoulders and covering her lace-covered breasts with her arms. "I'm sorry, Drew, I don't think I can do this."

I said nothing.

"It's not you, not at all. It's just that it's been so long that my body feels frozen. I'm not ready yet. I thought I was. Honest. But I just can't. Not yet."

I tried not to betray my frustration as I offered some reassurance. "It's okay, Amanda. Are you sure?"

She didn't answer. She just turned away and nodded her head. "Please don't hate me. You're a nice guy and I hate to do this to you, especially after you've gone to so much trouble. Let me help you pay for the room, at least."

I refused. "No, Amanda, I don't want you to do that. What would you like to do?"

Amanda bent over to pull up her dress. "Could you give me a ride home? I mean just to drop me off," she added, making clear that she wouldn't be inviting me for a nightcap. "Or maybe I could just take another Uber."

"No, no. I'll drive."

We drove in awkward silence through the tree-lined streets of Cloverdale, the little town's quiet broken only by her directions. I pulled into the driveway of a white wood-frame house, small, neat, as unassuming as its owner. She took both of my hands in hers before she got out, leaning forward and planting a chaste kiss on my cheek. "I'm sorry, Drew. But thanks for being so understanding. You're truly a gentleman, and I'm deeply grateful." And with that, my big date was over.

What a losing streak! I thought. Turned down by my wife and a Bumble date. I was beginning to believe that I couldn't get laid in a brothel.

I had to make a choice: go back to the hotel and spend the night alone there. I had paid for it, after all, and it would save me from driving an hour on that winding county road back to my home. Or, I could bite the bullet, take the drive and sleep in my own bed. Tippi had been clear that she'd be spending the night with Tyler in Cutler City, and if I were going to spend a lonely night alone with my right hand, better to do it, I thought, in the comfort of my own bedroom. I opted to take the drive.

The rain started up again as I made my way home. The goddam rain. It seemed so incessant that year, thegray days and bad weather like an accompaniment to the drab turbulence my life had become. I kept the radio off as I drove, my ears tuned to the soft whoosh of the wipers sweeping my windshield.

The black asphalt glistened in the light of the street lamp as I turned onto our street. It was almost 10:00 pm when I pulled in front of my house. The sight of Tippi's car in the driveway sparked both surprise and a bit of dread. Did I misunderstand? I thought she'd been clear: She said she'd be at Tyler's house while I was at the hotel having sex with my new Bumble fuckbuddy. Maybe she'd changed her mind and stayed home? The Cialis I'd popped was kicking in, and I felt my cock swelling just from the thought I might get lucky.

I eased my Prius alongside her car and closed the door quietly, cutting across our lawn to our front door. It wasn't locked. We seldom locked our door when we were home. Our neighborhood generally felt safe. Our home felt safe, except for now, when I didn't quite know what I would be facing.

I saw Tippi's purse on the table and then, shit! I saw a man's jacket hanging from a nearby dining room chair.

Now, there was a new set of choices. I still had the hotel room key card. I could turn around and leave, drive an hour back to Cloverdale and stay there. Maybe I could just drive aimlessly for a while, come back when they'd be sure to be asleep. Or maybe I could sleep in my car. Uncomfortable, yes, but it was an option. Better yet, I could curl up on the couch and greet them pleasantly in the morning. I could quietly jerk off on the couch. I had to do something about my Cialis-enhanced condition.

To my shame and embarrassment, I didn't do any of those things. Instead, I took off my shoes and tiptoed up the stairs towards our bedroom. Halfway up, I could hear their sounds, Tippi's heavy breathing, Tyler's grunting, the bed moving beneath their combined weight. As I drew closer, I could make out Tyler's voice, hear his words.

"Oh my God, Tippi, this feels so good. You like my cock moving inside you? Is it filling you up?"

Tippi was not an especially vocal lover, so I was surprised when she answered in complete sentences. I sat down on the floor next to the bedroom door, my back leaning against the wall, my legs in a half-lotus position. I could feel the wool of the carpet on the floor, the long runner that Tippi's mom had bought on a vacation in Turkey. My fingers brushed against a dust ball that was nesting beside the floor's molding. Funny how my mind wandered: Neither of us were especially attentive housekeepers, though Tippi's seeming nonchalance towards housework was surprising, considering the near-antiseptic Scandinavian neatness of her parents' home.

Tippi's voice pierced the bubble of my thoughts.

"Yes, yes, yes....Keep going Tyler, just like that," she moaned. "Yes, yes, yes! Fuck me! Keep fucking me. Yeah, it's filling me up! Do it, do it, do it, do it! Yes! Your cock feels so good." The bed's headboard was tapping against the wall that separated me from the bed. It was tapping out a rhythm, a kind of drumbeat keeping time to their fuck session. The drumbeat grew faster, a rapid and steady beat. Rap, rap, rap: the sound of Tyler's hips knocking the headboard against the wall. I swore I could hear the sound of flesh slapping flesh adding to that percussion.

Sitting with my legs splayed out before me, I was overcome with grief and shame. My mouth got dry and my eyes watered. I had turned into a voyeur, listening to my own wife getting fucked by her lover in my own bed. There was nothing new about them having sex in my house. I had seen them in the kitchen just days before. But somehow, their tryst in my own bedroom, in my own bed, took this infidelity to a new dimension. Was he using my pillow? Would I smell him on the bed tomorrow? Does the room retain the spirit of the things that happen there? My thoughts were a kaleidoscope of emotional calamity. I could hear my own heartbeat, thumping loud and fast, my breath shallow, constricted.

Tyler rasped a command. "You love it, don't you Tippi. Tell me you love my cock." Rap, rap, rap.

I had never fantasized about my wife having sex with another man. It wasn't a hidden kink of mine. Nevertheless, my cock twitched as I heard the sex sounds from my bedroom. God, I felt so twisted! There was intense jealousy, slight nausea, a sense of emptiness, as if a hole had opened up in my gut. The sensible thing would have been to sneak back downstairs, but I was rooted to my seat against the hallway wall. I couldn't stop listening. What's wrong with me?

Thevoices and the knocking sound grew a little louder, the rhythm of the knocking speeding up,

"I love it, Tyler. Fuck me hard. Uh huh! OOOOOHHH, right there! Just like that! I can feel it so deep inside me. Oh God!! Uh, Uh, Uh... I want you to come inside me." Tippi's voice came out as a gasp.

"Who fucks you the best, Tippi? Whose cock do you want inside you?

"YOURS, TYLER. YOURS! You fuck me so good! OhmyGodOhmyGodOhmyGod!!YES! YES! YES! AAAAAHGHHHHH!!!

Then:

Why are you stopping? What are you doing? Not there again, Tyler, it hurts."

"You loved it last time, Tippi. You came. Really hard. Just relax into it. Do you have any lube?"

"There's some in the drawer I. Drew's nightstand. Right next to you."

"What does Drew use it for?"

"Sometimes I'm a little dry when Drew and I make love. So, he puts some lube on both of us."

"You've never been dry with me, Tippi. Your pussy is always soaking.,.."

"You make me very wet, Tyler."

"Drew doesn't make you feel this way, does he, Tippi?

"Please, Tyler, don't talk about Drew!"

"Bullshit, Tippi. You know Drew doesn't make you feel this way."

I sat transfixed by the bedroom door, and though I never considered myself a voyeur or a cuckold, I couldn't help the rock-hard state of my medicated cock. The Cialis had helped make my arousal unbearable. I gave in to the impulse and unzipped my fly, extracting, with some difficulty, my swollen penis. I began to stroke it as I listened to the sounds. I began to conjure a visual to accompany the soundtrack of their coupling. It was like a videoclip playing inside my head.,

"Gentle, Tyler! Go slow! It hurts!"

"Just relax, Tippi. You know it'll be okay once I'm inside."

I could hear a groan, then a gasp as Tyler pushed through my wife's sphincter, penetrating deep inside her asshole.

And then she was breathing hard. "Uh. Uh, uh, oooohhhh!" In the imaginary video my mind was playing, I could visualize her hand making circular motions around her vulva, her fingers beginning to tweak her clit. Slowly at first, but gradually quickening her motions.

Tippi's breathing picked up speed. Her moans became more urgent, the words coming in. staccato bursts. "It's your asshole, Tyler. Oh, Oh, Uh, uh, uh! Fuck my ass, Tyler! Oh, Oh, Uh, uh, uh! Harder, harder! OhmyGod, OhMyGod! I'm almost there. Don't stop. Don't stop!"

Was she on her belly or was she on her back, taking his cock up her ass with her legs in the air? I guessed it was the latter. Tippi would be fingering her clit, that lovely little nub that protruded from its hood ever so slightly when she was aroused. She'd be fingering it, rubbing it, allowing its intense sensations to mitigate the pain of anal penetration, allowing the pressure on her G-spot to help her reach her plateau. Would she have an orgasm from Tyler's sodomizing?

My feelings of jealousy became mixed with a sense of outrage as I mused that Tippi and I never had anal sex. She had flatly rejected the suggestion whenever I brought it up. I had tried to coax her into it early in our marriage, but I had stopped asking. It seemed like it was never a possibility for us, and yet, here she was, allowing her lover to fuck here there for at least a second time.

Despite myself, I had become incredibly aroused by the situation; by the sounds, the mental images, thejealousy, and the humiliation. Almost unconsciously, I opened my zipper and eased my aching cock from its confines. I hated myself for becoming aroused by this outrage, this affront to my marriage. But my body's reaction could not be denied. I began to stroke my cock rhythmically, matching the breathing I heard from inside my bedroom. I jerked off as I imagined her asshole stretching to accommodate Tyler's cock.

Her breathing was loud, almost a grunting sound. "Uh, uh, uh!"

Without any conscious intention, my hand was stroking my cock in rhythm with her sounds. God, I felt like such a perv! But the emotions were overwhelming, the sensation incredible, irresistible.

And then came the words I dreaded in my worst nightmares, the words that confirmed all my worst fears.

"I love you, Tyler!"

Tippi's words hit me like a gut punch.

My eyes welled up with tears as I heard the quickening of Tippi's rhythmic panting, her moans become deeper, louder, a noise from the deepest part of her as her orgasm arrived, rising from a rumble to a shriek. "Oh my god! Oh my god! Ahhhhh! eeeeehhhhh!!! Fuck Fuck FUCK!!!!"

Then there were no words, just a prolonged animal shriek that persisted for about 30 seconds.

The sound brought me to my edge, to a place where arousal and dismay blended seamlessly. My hand pumped furiously and brought on my own orgasm just seconds later, my cock spurting on the hallway carpet. I felt in my jeans pocket for a tissue but found none.

I could hearTyler's sounds as he kept up his pounding until, just a minute later, he grunted and yelled, "I'm coming, Tippi! I'm coming! There was a guttural sound from his throat, loud, almost a roar, like the sound of a very loud toilet flushing.

The room fell mostly silent but for thesound of some heavy breathing.

Tippi spoke softly. "Wow, that was amazing. You fuck me so good, Tyler."

In a flash of self-consciousness, I saw myself as a creepy, perverted voyeur, getting off on my own wife's debauchery. I didn't want to add to my humiliation by being caught in my position. I thought of tiptoeing down to the stairs and retreating to the living room, but something kept me riveted to my seat on the hallway floor.

And then, the door opened. Tippi stepped out into the hall and half-gasped, half screamed as she saw my hunched figure.

"Who the fuck? Drew? Is that you?"

In the half-darkness of the hallway, I could see her naked body, Her hands had instinctively covered her genitalia when she realized she saw my hunched figure. A sliver of moonlight from the window at the end of the hall silhouetted her body as she faced me.

"Yes, it's me. Tippi. It's okay."

"What are you doing here?" she asked. There was a tinge of panic in her voice. "I thought you were going to spend the night at the hotel with your new friend?"

"It just didn't work out. I couldn't make it happen," I said. I felt sheepish as I told her. I didn't want to go into any detail, especially when Tyler was lying in my bed just a few feet inside the door. I didn't need to add to the humiliation of my situation.

"Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry. How long have you been sitting here?"

"About ten minutes, I think. Twenty, maybe. I really don't know," I said.

The low-wattage night light in our hallway gave off the barest yellow glow and I couldn't see Tippi's facial expression in the near-darkness, but I could sense her concern. In my mind's eye, I saw her wrinkle her brow the way she did whenever she was worried. Her, lower lip curling slightly, her upper teeth biting gently down upon it. Her eyes would be narrowed in concentration. I could see it all without seeing it. I knew this woman so well. At least I thought I did. Was the Tippi I knew so well the same woman who was groaning and yelling obscenities just a few moments earlier? The discrepancy between those two people left me bewildered and impossibly sad.

"Did you hear us, Drew? Were you listening?"

I paused before answering.

"Yes," I said in a half whisper.

"Did you hear what we were saying?"

"Yes," I repeated.

"Sweetie, you know it doesn't mean anything. I get noisy when I fuck Tyler. I don't know why, but it doesn't mean anything. Please, please, don't let it get to you."

Tippi squatted down and joined me on the floor, leaning her naked body against mine and taking me by the shoulders. The moonlight glinted off her golden hair. She smelled from sex, of sweat and pungent female musk, an arousing smell I usually loved. It was different now. That sex smell was the product of her wild fucking with another man. It made me incredibly sad. It made me sick to my stomach.

I heard my voice get very low, almost a whisper, almost pathetic in its weakness. "You told him that you love him."

"Oh God, Drew. I didn't mean it. It was just sex. It was just raw animal fucking. I say anything when I'm coming. But it doesn't mean anything. I love you, sweetie. Only you."

"You don't talk that way when you're with me, Tippi." I said, my voice sounding painfully small, my eyes facing away from her. Then I turned back to face her, searching her face, hoping to find the truth of our marriage, where I truly stood at this critical juncture.

There were tears in her eyes and a furrow creasing her brow. "I'm so sorry, Drew. I know I keep saying that, but it's true. I love you so much. I don't know what I said to Tyler when we were having sex. But please, let's not have this conversation now. I'm so sorry you had to hear that. I never expected that we'd be in this situation. You knew I'd be with Tyler tonight."

"Did you have to fuck him in our bedroom? Couldn't you have used the guest room?"

"I tried to take him there. He said the bed was too small. He said we had to use our bedroom. I'm sorry."

"So now you do anything he tells you? Is that how this is working? I thought this artist-muse thing meant that you were in control."