Opening up

(Author’s note: So this story is a greatly enhanced version of his response. Let’s call it “Based on a true story.” I’ll try writing in from his perspective.)

I had been transferred to Cleveland a few months before this happened and my wife, Monica (Shortened to Nicka after the Bill Clinton affair), and I were renting a house in an old neighborhood while we gave ourselves a chance to look at houses and neighborhoods. Nicka hadn’t been able to find full time work after our move, though my promotion more than made up for that financially.

On this day, I unexpectedly got the afternoon off and pulled my Mini into our tiny garage from the alley behind the house. I walked 30 feet across our “back yard” and up the back steps. Our entrance was through a back porch and into the kitchen which had been upgraded 20 years ago.

I wasn’t trying to be quiet, but I guess I didn’t make a lot of noise. I heard a woman moaning and for a second thought it must have been a soap opera on the TV. But as I made it through the dining room I began to think it was no TV program. “What the fuck,” I muttered to myself. And there they were, in the living room, Shana, the woman who lived next door with her husband, sprawled crookedly on the sofa, and Nicka, with her head and one hand buried between Shana’s legs. Both were naked. “WHAT THE FUCK?!” I exclaimed.

Both women jumped to their feet and grabbed articles of clothing to try to cover themselves; even Nicka did that. Shana held a tee shirt over her boobs that didn’t go much past her belly button down below. I was immediately furious, “You’ve been cheating on me! And with a girl!”

“I’m so sorry. Oh Norman. I’m so sorry. But it isn’t the same is it?” she begged.

Shana cowered in a corner while we argued. Funny thing is, I hardly noticed her shaved pussy. She couldn’t escape, I realized, because I was practically standing on the pile which made up the rest of her clothes. Shana was a petite, slender girl with black hair, and small but not tiny tits that were the perfect size for her small frame.

“You told me you weren’t really bi. You only experimented, you told me,” I continued to blow off steam.

We’d been arguing for a few minutes when Shana began moving closer – to get to her clothes? “It doesn’t have to be all bad,” she offered seductively. And I realized she was reaching for my crotch, not her clothes. Nicka’s head whipped around and stared, mouth agape, at Shana. Shana’s tee shirt dropped to the floor and she pressed her boobs against my arm.

“What the …,” I started to mutter.

“Shana!” Nicka exclaimed.

“Fair is fair,” Shana added.