Role Reversal

"Oh yes - he's coming back next week to finish off - so if you are passing the house that day, it might be an idea if you didn't call in. Now if you don't mind Peter, I am going to sleep, I'm very tired."

Samantha did fall asleep almost immediately. I didn't - I don't think that I slept a wink all night.

I put down the following Wednesday as the start of my sickness. I had rearranged my day so that I only had a few calls - and those in the relatively local area. Before leaving for work I almost emptied my briefcase and crammed the binoculars in instead. By lunchtime, I was parked a little way down the road from my house and at just before two Rory's pick up pulled into my drive. I got out of the car and watched over the fence from the concealment of a bush as he started to unload some equipment. The bastard was whistling and he had the tail up look of males the world over who know they about to get their end away. I had a manic urge to leap into the garden and hit him - but he looked as hard as nails and the fear of being badly bloodied kept me on the safe side of the fence.

As soon as he had carried his tools to the rear of the house I nipped into the drive. Darting from bush to bush like a thief in my own garden, I preceded to my planned hiding place the far side of the garage. This was to a strip of no-mans-land that separated my garage from the one on the adjoining property and once in there I could not be observed from any direction. When the chain saw started I moved to a position that in theory should have allowed me to see the bottom of the garden but a rhododendron bush blocked my view. I could not see him working but I was pretty sure that he was alone.

Sure enough, after less than fifteen minutes, Samantha came into view carrying a glass in each hand. Not many paces away from me she stopped, called out to him and then waited until he joined her. Together they walked back towards the house. Taking a bit of a chance I emerged from my hiding place and moved to a spot from which I could see into the conservatory but although I waited a few minutes they did not appear. It was obvious that they had gone straight to the bedroom, so in a bit of a panic, I dashed back between the garages.

I intended to get onto the roof of the garage, which vantage point would allow me to see into the spare bedroom - hence the binoculars. With the garage roof being lower than the bedroom window there was no chance of seeing the bed but I was confident that I would witness some activity. After a bit of a struggle due mainly to the need to make no noise, I heaved myself onto the roof and looked eagerly towards the bedroom, only to find that the curtains were drawn. For a moment I could have given way to tears but then I had a better idea.

Once more on the ground, I walked boldly round to the side of the house, stepped into the flower bed and stood with my back to the wall immediately below the bedroom window. I could hear them talking - not actually what was being said but I could clearly hear the sound of their voices. Then I could hear the bed, at first just twangs and groans as they changed position on it. That always was a noisy bed and had we entertained overnight guests more it would have been replaced a couple of years ago but now I was glad that we had not. Gradually the sounds developed into a rhythm and soon I had no real need of my favoured listening position because I'm sure that the sound of the bed must be audible in the next street. On top of all that I could still hear my wife's cries of passion.

My heart was pounding like a steam hammer, the tightness in my throat made me fear I might choke and my prick was so stiff it seemed possible it might burst through the material of my trousers in search of freedom. It was akin to the adrenaline rush of walking into a bedroom with a new woman but magnified many times. I was in total torment but at the same time I had never felt so alive in my life. When the noises from above fairly suddenly subsided, my legs would no longer hold me and I slid down the wall until I was sitting on the soil. I felt far more exhausted than if I had actually participated in that sexual extravaganza.

I continued to hear mumbled voices and other unidentified sounds from above but I think that for a while I was in a daze. After what my watch told me was only a twenty minute gap, the bedsprings resumed their cacophony and I forced myself back to my feet to endure a replay of what had gone before. I got so agitated this time that I became seriously concerned about the state of my heart - but just before I was certain that the coronary would strike at any moment, the frantic bedroom activity came to a natural conclusion. This time I sat almost comatose for over an hour before renewed movement by my wife and her lover indicated that they were going for the triple. I think that I must have lost touch with reality because at this point I realised that there were only forty minutes to my only important appointment of the day and that was scheduled to take place thirty miles away.

With great willpower I forced myself to the car and set off. In retrospect I belief that during that journey I was a menace on the road and it is not really surprising that, having managed to get there in time, I still lost the sale. The meeting had been shorter than expected so, where in other circumstances I would have returned home, I now could not as I did not know how long the randy woodsman would continue servicing my wife. So I had a meal I did not taste, drove back slowly, hung about some more and finally pulled into my drive at a safe eight o'clock. With my hand on the door latch, I realised that I could not face my wife just at that moment so I went to the bottom of the garden to settle my composure. I could see that there were still at least three big branches waiting to come down and the ground was littered with those he had already felled.

Samantha smiled happily as I walked in. She looked exactly the same as usual except that her eyes were rather bright and she was wearing a high necked blouse that I had not seen for a long time. "Has he been then?" I asked trying to sound very casual.

"You know that he has," she said. I swallowed hard, believing for a moment that I had been seen earlier but she went on, "I just noticed you down the garden checking on what he has got done."

I grasped the bull by the horns. "Was it as good as last time?"

"Better. Knowing you were not going to burst in gave us more time and we also started off knowing a bit of what the other liked."

"Did he make you cum more as well?"

My wife gave me an impatient look and asked, "Peter, what is this. Do you want me to tell you everything we did in graphic detail - is that it?"

I wanted to say "'YES, YES, a thousand times yes,' but instead I shook my head and said, "No, of course not. I just wanted to know that you had been all right. He'll be back next week then."

"No, he's not coming anymore. That's it."

I was disappointed. I was actually desperately disappointed and I turned the emotion in to anger, shouting, "That's not fucking good enough. The job isn't half finished and his crap is all over the place for me to clear away. I thought that these people were meant to tidy up after themselves." I paused for breath only to see Samantha gazing at me in amazement. "Well I hope you didn't pay him," I said, ending my tirade rather lamely

"I certainly did pay him and I also gave him a big tip - he was worth it."

"Then why isn't he finishing the job?"

My wife sat down and without looking at me said softly, "Because I sent him away - it was too dangerous. I knew that I could easily get addicted to him. Peter, I do want experience of other men but I don't want a passionate affair with any one of them. I couldn't take the risk that I might find myself running off with him and end up living on a council estate or worse."

"So what are you going to do now - wait for another super stud to knock on the door?" I asked rather cruelly.

"I have been sitting thinking about that and I have decided to start going to a gym to try and get my figure back. I can go during the middle of the day when there are more buses running - it shouldn't affect you at all."

I heaved a sigh of relief. The events of the afternoon had exposed a part of my character that I did not recognise and I did not like it at all. The weeks that it would take Sam to get in shape were a reprieve because I knew that the gym was safe. Elise had told me that there was a strict 'no-fraternising' rule between staff and clients due to a masseuse once caught turning tricks with a consequent police involvement.

Six weeks later Sam was looking far trimmer and I had not cheated on her since the night of my denouement. OK, I am going to be honest - I had intended to skip this bit but this is meant to be the whole truth, warts and all. Up until the advent of Rory I did conscientiously stick to my promise to be faithful and in the week between his visits I was too concerned with my feelings about what my wife was doing. But after he got his marching orders, I thought to myself, 'Get back in the old routine and perhaps Samantha's activities won't get under my skin so much.' So on my first night away that week, I picked up a neat looking girl, treated her to a nice meal on expenses and then took her back to the old room intending to claim my reward. But it didn't turn out like that because, for the first time in my life, I couldn't get it up. The girl was very understanding bless her. "Don't worry about it," she said, "- it's always happening to me. Perhaps I pick the wrong sort of men."

When alone I rationalised it away, finding a load of excuses to explain how it could have happened. For a start it was meant to happen to all men sooner or later and there was no reason why I was immune. In addition, I was tired and undoubtedly trying too hard in attempt to eradicate the memory of my wife's casual sex partner. I was actually away on this trip for two nights in succession covering that area, so the next night, following the principle of getting straight back on a horse after a fall, I finished up in bed with another tart. It happened again. There was no sympathy that time. My intended conquest was extremely scathing and I can vividly remember the expression 'prickless wonder' being used. It was total humiliation. Thinking back, I think the truth behind my failures was that my heart had not been in it with either woman. Intuitively I knew then that the only female I would ever sleep with in the future would be my wife. I cursed those pointless years of womanising for Samantha was the only woman that I wanted.

I was not actually any more successful in bed with Sam but the reason was different. With the hotel females it was a total failure to get aroused but I certainly got a very stiff erection at home. The trouble was that I could not use it, for the moment that I moved to commit the deed an instantaneous shrivelling turned my penis into a limp piece of gristle. The problem was all in my head - knowing the reputed size of the tree feller's chopper, I feared that Samantha would make an inevitable comparison and I just could not bear the thought of her asking, "Is it in yet?"

I thought for a very long time about what I should do and 'kill myself' came pretty high on the list.

Eventually I decided that I had to go back to the start and pretend that Sam and I had just started seeing each. All the other women could then be mentally relegated to previous sexual history as could the two men that she had opened her legs for in the past month. To do this I decided that I had to woo her, engage in an old fashioned courtship with lots of kissing and declarations of love but sparing on the sex. To help the illusion it seemed logical to stay celibate for a couple of weeks. Combining this with conscientiously finishing all my household tasks and being generally nice to be with, would I hoped do the trick. So I set off fairly confident that I could gain my two ends i.e. overcome my sexual hang ups and convince Sam that I was such a good and loving husband that she would abandon her designs on other men.

After three weeks of this regime, one Saturday afternoon I decided to do some house maintenance, hoping to earn extra brownie points so went into Mosby to buy the stuff I would need. I was working my way round a gondola when who should be standing on the other side but Howard. For a very long second we just stared at each other and then I said, "Howard I'm so sorry. I've been a real bastard. I don't know what came over me - I must have been out of my mind."

"It's OK, don't worry about it Pete," he told me. "I've watched Elise coming on to you strong for years and it is amazing that you managed to hold out for so long. It's Sam that I am upset about. I can't forgive myself for telling her about you and then taking advantage while she was upset. It was a dastardly thing to do."

"Well you shouldn't be upset. Samantha made quite a point of telling me how much she enjoyed doing it with you."

"Really," he said, sounding very surprised.

"She actually enthused about you," I said, laying it on a bit thick, "And I got the definite impression that it happened more than once - that doesn't sound like a woman who has been taken advantage of."

Howard visibly relaxed and said with a touch of pride, "You know, that's the first time for years I've been able to manage that."

"So how are things?" I asked, lost for anything else to say.

"Well Phillip and James are certainly missing your two. They can't understand why we have stopped going to each others houses and it is hardly something that is easy to explain." I just nodded, completely without a suitable response but then Howard said, "Oh you mean Elise - well she's carrying on the same as always but I have come to terms with it now. She's is younger than me and to be honest I don't think I'm very highly sexed, so it is understandable. "You weren't the first you know - not by a long way. Over the years she must have been with dozens of different men but always until now it only happened when she was away pretending to be working - I check her appointments diary and only half the nights she spends away from home have anything to do with her job."

"She possibly doesn't write every appointment down in the diary."

Howard shook his head. "Lots of times I rang her hotel room when she should have been there but nobody answered and most times she did speak to me I was sure someone was in the room with her. Once she couldn't have covered the telephone mouth piece properly because I distinctly heard her say, 'Keep still for a minute can't you - it's my sodding husband'. Anyway, she's admitted everything now. Before it was the wondering that got to me but from now on she has promised to tell me what she gets up to and I can handle that far better."

When I got home I related the early part of this conversation to Sam. "The poor man I shall have to ring him and set his mind at ease properly," she said immediately.

"You don't intend to....."

"Definitely not. No, I'm just going to suggest that we can still drop the kids off at each others houses. There's no need for adult contact but it is a shame for the kids to lose out over something that is not their fault. I know that Callie in particular has been asking the same sort of questions as Howard's boys."

Two weeks later, I walked into the bar at the hotel where the whole thing started and there was Elise at the bar, possible sitting on exactly the same stool. My instinct was to back out but I had already been spotted. I have to say that the expression on her face was not one of pleasure but she was smiling as I strolled up to her. "Has the dust settled yet?" she wanted to know.

"Just about but I'm still doing penance," I told her. "What about you."

"Fine, in fact better than ever. Howard says that I can do whatever I like as long as I promise to tell him about it. It's a whole new set up. Howie doesn't poke me now which is a relief - I wank him instead. We lie there with me tossing him off while I tell him about my adventures; blow by blow - the dirtier it is the better he likes it. Sometimes when there is nothing much to tell, I remember stuff from the past and pretend it has just happened or I just make it all up - if I don't, I finish up with an aching wrist. It's all rather pathetic."

I could understand my ex friend's need to know but the rest of that seemed a bit suspect to me. There was something that I wanted to ask. She may have thought it a funny question but I blurted out, "Elise, when you are choosing a man to have sex with, how important is the size of his penis?"

Elise laughed. "Someone has been learning some home truths I see." Then more seriously she told me, "I can't deny that having a nice lump of meat inside her is a nice bonus for a girl but for me it isn't the only criteria. For instance, I think that finding a man who is good with his mouth is almost equally important and in that department at least dear Peter, you cannot be faulted. Now having said that, do you want to pop upstairs and have a quick thrash for old time's sake?"

The fact was I dare not risk another failure - so I shook my head. She grinned at me. "I can't say that I'm too disappointed. I'm in here hoping to bump into a certain hunky Dane - now he really does have a nice sized willy."

It was more and more easy to believe that Samantha I were at the beginning of our relationship because as her pounds dropped off, years disappeared to until I found her indistinguishable from my memory of the girl that I had married. I hated being away from home and my nights in hotels became very few in number because I was prepared to drive 150 or 200 miles if I could possibly get home before suppertime. I did start having sex but it was making love rather than sex. Although I felt desire all the time, in bed I limited myself to kissing and telling her how much I loved her but then would roll over and go to sleep. It was only on Saturdays that I allowed things to go further but even then spent ages on fondling and kissing with many declarations of love before I eventually rolled on top.

You cannot appreciate my restraint without knowing what a desirable woman my wife had become. Her figure was now superb. She had more than regained a slim figure because her body now had superb tone. I could swear that her breasts were bigger but perhaps that is illusion because they now thrust out proudly with absolutely no need for artificial support. It is hard to define but her whole demeanour seemed to have changed. I could see it in her confidence, in her posture and in her general attitude to just about everything.

It was working; there was no doubt about that. My wife now had a permanent contented look on her face; she burst into song at random and tended to laugh very easily. There was a vibrancy about her and a spring in her step. We were a family again. I took us all out at every opportunity, treated Samantha to romantic restaurant meals and even went so far as to shower her with bunches of flowers. This was what our marriage should always have been like.

After four months she happily told me that she had reached her target and on the coming Thursday would finish the routine she had been following. "I shall keep going to the gym as usual just to keep in trim but from now on there is no need to punish myself," she said. Knowing the reason that she had started at the gym in the first place I should have been depressed or at least uneasy but our marriage was now so good, there seemed to be no danger. I was confident that, even if her threatened promiscuity with other men had been meant at the time, it was now irrevocably committed to the past.

I planned a treat to mark the occasion. Rearranging my day to leave the afternoon free, I bought in the food and laid out a cold buffet complete with champagne, put up balloons and a banner saying 'Well Done' and after a great deal of ringing round, got hold of a very old record. Then the moment that my wife walked in with sparkling eyes and a look of great satisfaction on her face, I pushed the switch to allow the performer to sing his 'Congratulations'. Sam rushed to me to smother my face with kisses and say, "Oh Peter, you are the kindest most wonderful husband in the world." My last remaining doubt disappeared. We spent a lovely evening reminiscing about when we met and those first two years of marriage. By bed time, our rapport had been so good that I felt able to abandon my Saturday night only rule. If she had reached a target then so had I.