An hour passed, then the door opened. It was Rufus, dressed now, their eyes met, they knew words were not necessary, or appropriate, they shook hands and then awkwardly Rufus said, “no hard feelings…?” Ian grinned, repeated the phrase, “no hard feelings!” then as his workmate left, he muttered “Monday then” and the door closed Quietly behind him. He made her coffee, his wife lay on the bed, legs still akimbo, seed dribbling from her body, and a glazed look on her face, he set the coffee down then climbed onto the bed and they hugged silently for a while, she kissed him meaningfully and whispered “thanks mate, that was special!” They made love, gently and with feeling. Nothing was said on the adventure till later that day, both needed time to rest and to think. It was May that brought up the subject when it seemed a bit more appropriate just before bedtime, after a long quiet evening in front of the TV. “Well Ian, how do you feel about your wife now, after her having slept with your. Even a single-celled amoeba could establish exactly what I was wearing underneath. The umbrella was a pointless addition to my attire, for whichever way I tilted it, I seemed to get even wetter. I crossed the road and stood under the nearest lamp post close to the bus stop.I waited. My phone pinged and I looked at the message from my husband, Brian. I smiled and bit my lip. My nipples were hard and erect; trying to punch their way through the thin fabric. I felt as if I was on heat. Although wet through and cold, parts of my body were pumping out enough heat to power the nearby houses.A car rounded the corner of the street and I waited with bated breath only for it to speed past me and into the darkness. A large splash of water from the tyres pounced at me and lapped at my feet. I watched men in black overcoats and raincoats rush past; heading for shelter in the nearest pub or coffee shop.Part of me couldn’t believe I was doing this and part of me was overexcited that I was. I felt.
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