Allen, my husband, had seen me talking to one of my coworkers at the end of our shift. He was picking me up because my car was in the shop. He saw me chatting amiably with Rick, and on the basis of that he’d imagined this elaborate affair Rick and I were supposed to be having and hassled me nonstop over dinner.

“You’re wrong. Just wrong.” I shoved back from the table. “I’m not fucking Rick!”

But by then, after more than an hour of Allen’s haranguing, I’d had it. I went to grab my coat.

Allen followed me to the front door. He didn’t try to apologize, just kept on with his baseless accusations.Enough,I thought, and went out the door. I stormed down to the corner, flagged a cab and disappeared into the city night.

The whole thing left me shaking. It was so unlike Allen. We’d had four good years of marriage. I had never cheated on him, and so far as I knew he’d been faithful as well. What had gotten into him?

As the cab took me downtown I wondered if maybe he’d slept with someone, felt guilty as hell about it and was perversely taking it out on me.

I hadn’t even finished dinner, but I wasn’t hungry anymore. Instead of hitting a restaurant, I went to a quiet, posh bar. The decor was soothing, the music soft jazz. I sat at the polished bar and ordered a cocktail.

The first sip calmed my rattled self, but I was still dismayed by what had happened. Allen had described my “affair” in such detail: Rick had flirted with me, and I’d flirted back, a bit shyly at first. Then I got bolder, and he responded. Soon we were casually touching at work and trading fraught looks. Then we moved on to quick kisses in the supply closet. After that, Rick was groping me and I was rubbing the front of his pants —

“Excuse me, are you all right?”

I blinked. I’d gotten sucked down into Allen’s fantasy, playing it in my head as if it had really happened. For a second, I felt a ridiculous twinge of guilt, like I’d really felt up Rick through his khakis.

The handsome man who spoke sat two stools away. He was nicely dressed and had an honest, open face. I regarded him for a moment, then — as if we were in a film noir — said, “I got troubles.”

He chuckled. It was a pleasant sound.

“That’s why we go to bars,” he said, holding my gaze. “My name’s Perry.”

Give him my name? Why not?

“Josie.”

After that, we talked. Perry moved over to sit next to me. I didn’t get any kind of skeevy vibe off him. He was an interesting conversationalist and a very good listener.

I nursed my drink and found myself divulging the whole situation to him — what my husband had wrongly accused me of and the intricate scenario he’d apparently sketched out in his imagination.

“It baffles me,” I said, shaking my head. “I mean, Allen’s never been jealous like this before.”

Perry looked thoughtful and asked, “Are you sure? He’s never, well, hinted at the idea of you having an affair before?”

I bristled at his question and asked, “What do you mean?”

He raised a placating hand as he said, “I’m not being a wise guy. It’s just — I was in a relationship with a woman who did the same thing to me. It seemed to happen out of the blue, her accusing me of cheating on her, which I wasn’t. She had it all mapped out in her mind, same as your husband.”

I was more baffled than ever and asked, “What does it mean?”

“When I thought back,” Perry explained, “I realized Brenda — that was her name — had been dropping hints about me having an affair for weeks. I had thought she was joking. Then I remembered how she’d get this gleam in her eyes when she spoke about it. I finally figured out the idea turned her on. She wanted me to go have sex with someone else.”

My jaw dropped. In that same instant, I snapped back on things Allen had said over the past months. Yes. Hints. Supposed jokes. And yes, he had seemed aroused by the idea. Did he literally want me to fuck Rick?

Well, he was a good-looking man.

“Did you do it?” I asked with breathless curiosity. “Did you cheat?”

“Yes. I slept with somebody else. And she knew it.”

Huskily, I asked, “Was she happy you did it?”

“She was ecstatic. It was the fulfillment of a long pent-up fantasy.”

I sat in stunned silence, absorbing what I’d heard. It all made sense. In fact, nothing else explained Allen’s behavior.

Finally, I looked Perry over — really looked him over. He was definitely handsome. I’d shared intimate details of my life with him. Could we share something else as well?

It all seemed so clear, but did I dare?

I leaned toward him, put my hand on his leg — well up on it, near his crotch.

“Perry, would you like to make my husband a very happy man?”

We were back at his place 15 minutes later. I threw myself on him as soon as we were through his door. He met my desperate kiss, grinding against me as we staggered to his bed. My hands tore at his clothes as he flung mine away. Soon, we stood naked together at the foot of the bed, on the brink.

Time froze. The excitement raging through me came to a crescendo and held there, exquisite and intense. Instead of mauling him, I leaned in and softly, tenderly put my lips on his. He kissed back with equal gentleness, and I savored the contact. Our lips brushed. Our tongues emerged leisurely, dancing delicately together.

I ran my hands over him, going slow and feeling the contours of his muscles. He, too, caressed me, trailing his palms down my back and over the hemispheres of my ass. His fingers sank softly into my flesh, and a purr filled my throat.

Together, in perfect coordination, we slipped onto the bed and lay side by side, facing each other. The delicate touches resumed. He grazed my stiff nipples, and I stroked his tight abs, letting my fingers wander lower. I brushed his cockhead, finding a pearl of pre-come perched on the tip of his shaft. I scooped it up with a fingertip, brought it to my mouth and lapped it off.

As the heat grew between us, our pace became more frenzied. Our movements became more urgent. He mashed his mouth on mine, and I speared my tongue violently against his. His strong hand closed over my breast, squeezing hard.

I writhed against him, reaching between us and clutching his hard cock. When I pumped his shaft, he growled, and the animalistic sound further inflamed me. He broke our kiss and moved his mouth to my neck. Then he shifted further down and began sucking on my tits.

I jammed one breast against his mouth, then the other. He bit down on my nips, and the hint of danger and hurt brought a cry of joy from me.

When he kissed his way farther down my body, I realized what he was doing and eagerly rolled onto my back. I spread my legs, and he hunkered down between them. My pussy was slick with need. He shifted his head into place, and a tickle of warm breath made me shiver.

His tongue came out and swiped along my pussy lips. My hips bucked, and he parted me, his delving tongue wriggling inside me. It felt so good. I reached down instinctively and grabbed a handful of his hair. I humped my pussy against his open mouth.

He homed in on my pulsing clit. His tongue tip batted and stroked my bud. Pleasure rose and swelled inside me. My fingers tightened in his hair, and I jammed myself on his face until I heard a raw howl — and realized it was me. My climax lit up every part of me. I gushed my juice into his mouth as the room spun.

Well, I had to pay him back for that, didn’t I?

I levered up, got Perry onto his back and settled down to suck on his cock for a while. Lying between his muscled legs, I scooped up his lovely balls and kneaded them gently. I licked up a fresh bead of his pre-come, making him moan and shudder.

I closed my lips over his crown and started sucking my way down his shaft. My tongue traced every vein that stood out on him. His masculine flavor filled my mouth. Down and down I went, until his knob entered my throat. I adjusted my gag reflex and continued on until I’d sucked him to his balls.

I held him like that for a moment, showing off my cocksucking talents, then I started bobbing my head. I loved the texture of him, how soft and hard his flesh was at the same time.

Men are such a wonder. For the past four years, I’d had only Allen. Perry was someone new and — I admit — exciting. I hadn’t considered sex with another man since the day of our marriage vows. But at that point, I realized how desperately I’d wanted a stranger’s touch. Maybe my husband had sensed that.

Up and down I went. Saliva dribbled from the corners of my busy mouth. I was lost in the scent and sensation of the blowjob. I would have sucked him until he’d unloaded in my mouth, but Perry apparently had other ideas.

Gently, he pried me off him. Blinking, I found myself on my back. Perry — and his spit-shiny cock — loomed over me. I hooked my hands under my knees and pulled my legs up. In a voice I didn’t recognize, I told him, “Fuck my pussy and my ass! Fuck them both!”

I’d given him full access, with my knees practically up at my chin. A feverish look came over his face as he plunged his cock into me, taking my pussy first. He slammed home, bottoming out and forcing another cry from me. He took up a hammering rhythm, our bodies smacking together. Already supercharged, I felt my climax tearing through me, taking me to the heavens and then leaving me in free fall.

What brought me back to earth was the fantastic sensation of his cock reaming my ass. He started out easy, with lots of lube, but I told him to fuck me hard. Soon he was pounding me, and when his jizz started spewing, I came with him, recording everything in my mind. I would tell Allen every detail when I got home. After all, it was his affair, too.