An Unfaithful Wife



6/13




We maintained our social lives, what there was of them.  I had
nearly none by now.  Between maintaining my work load and
re-habituating myself to serve Cassie's desires, time was in short
supply.  I'd never been especially gregarious anyhow -- I went to
other people's houses, and dances or parties at the Club, mainly to
accompany Cassie.  I had no male friends now, and didn't need any. 
I'd chat with the husbands of Cassie's friends, feel bored, and
wait until she judged it was time to go home.

A Saturday rolled round when it was Cassie's turn to host her
all-women's bridge club, and she asked me as usual to help her set
up the tables and fix some of the snacks.   I did.  Usually I'd
then leave the house and go to a movie alone or something, so her
friends could gossip about husbands and work and recipes and lovers
uninhibited by one more mere husband.  But this time I was
expecting an important fax, so I had to close myself in my study to
await it.
  
I 'd just gotten it and looked it over when I heard a loud crash
and thump from the game room in our finished basement where the
tables were set up, and then women's voices speaking excitedly,
then laughing, using words like "shame" and "pity" in tones as
amused as concerned.  Then I heard Cassie's voice calling me.  I
trotted down the stairs to confront an odd sight -- the dozen or so
women there had returned to their card games, concentrating
intently on their hands, but the snack table in the corner had
collapsed, strewing plates of little sandwiches and canapes and a
bowl of pasta primavera all across the floor.   Cassie motioned me
over.

"Honey," she whispered.  "We can't delay this crucial phase of the
tournament long enough to clean up that mess over there.  Would you
be a dear and do it?  And then pick up a party platter and pasta
salad from Aldo's down the street, so I'll have something to serve
when we next take a break?"  She gestured toward the trash and
clutter regretfully, but then the woman next to her bid something
and she immediately returned to study of her hand and the cards on
the table.

"Sure," I said, though she was no longer listening.

For the next twenty minutes I made repeated trips up and down the
stairs, carrying plastic bags full of ruined snacks, gathering up
shards of serving platters, sweeping residue, setting up a new
table, carrying down fresh plates, napkins, and forks, and
arranging them as attractively as I could.  Then as asked I walked
to the small gourmet delicatessen at the end of our street to get
more food.  On my way back I heard a two tone whistle of
appreciation behind me.  Shocked, I realized I'd been walking with
the hip-rotating wiggle and limp wrists Cassie loved.  

I had to keep it up all the way back to the house, of course --
give whoever had whistled no satisfaction that I'd heard him, and
certainly don't turn around so he could see I wasn't female.  But
then worse.  As I brought down the fresh cold-cuts and salads and
arranged them, I realized I'd undulated my rear and moved my arms
loose-wristed unawares the whole time I'd been clearing and
carrying away the spilled food.  And still was.  I'd been moving in
the extravagantly feminine way I always moved when at home.  As I'd
passed among these women for the past half-hour or more, my pelvis
had been rocking seductively with my butt pushed way out.

"Thank you honey, you're a dear," Cassie said, looking up from her
game for a moment.   Some of the other women paused to look at me
appreciatively too, then returned to their play.  One or two smiled
at me more warmly than I might expect, and one seemed amused, I
assumed because men don't usually lay out plates and napkins and so
on with such care.  Had any of them noticed my exaggeratedly
girlish movements all the while I'd been down here cleaning up?  

I asked Cassie that after they'd left.

"How could they not?" she replied absently, adding up columns of
small sums related to everyone's standing at the end of the day's
proceedings.  

I felt a jolt of apprehension -- my secret life was now out, known! 


"With all that walking and bending down and straightening up again,
especially when you were walking up and down the stairs?  You were
moving like a swimwear model, all slink and wriggle, almost no
bones at all for that matter, except for your usual one, and that
one's always tucked away when you wear those tight pants.  Roxanne
asked if you were rehearsing for a night in a gay bar.  The other
women thought it was cute, though not something they'd want their
own men to imitate."

I was appalled.  Cassie's friends thought she was married to a
queer?  Mortified, I could barely murmer, "I'm sorry I embarrassed
you, sweetheart!"

"Oh, you didn't," Cassie said, still busy with her pencil,
unconcerned.  "Only yourself.  I explained how come you were that
way, and they asked a few questions, and that was that!"

"You explained?  What did you explain?  What kinds of questions?"

Now she looked up at me, and a sly grin spread across her face.  "I
told them you like to move like that.  That it gives you access to
all sorts of  new feelings about your body, and you love some of
them.  That's true, isn't it?"

"I guess," I said.  "But think of the disgrace!  They'll tell their
husbands and so on, and I'll be a laughingstock!"  

Now Cassie's broad smile warmed everything in my vicinity.  "Oh,
sweetheart!" she said.  "I hope so!  Wouldn't that be wonderful? 
No more trying to measure up to other men.  No more fears about
anyone discovering your little kinks -- you'd know that everyone
expects you to show them, that they're you and need no apology. 
That you can mince anywhere if you wish, use any gender mannerisms
you choose, and feel confirmed in them by everyone else's eyes. 
I'd think you'd love that, in a way!   And of course there's
nothing to feel ashamed about.  They all thought that walk of yours
very attractive.  They all said so.  And I do too!"

"Attractive to whom?" I asked truculently, feeling utterly lost. 
"To men?"

"Mainly, who else?" she replied, coming forward to kiss me.  Then
with her forearms lying relaxed across my shoulders, she looked me
directly in the eyes and added, "I don't know how any man could
ever resist that ass, the way you move it.  We all agree that Mr.
D is very lucky!  And that you are too, to have Mr. D pay you the
attention he does.  The ladies all envied you when I brought him
down to show them."

"You did what?!!"  My jaw dropped!  I felt absolutely destroyed!

She ignored my distress.  "I told them how you practice being a
girl with Mr. D.  How sometimes it's an inner gay man, but mostly
it's your inner girl, but either way Mr. D helps you feel complete. 
Then we all had quite a chat about men who would rather be women,
and I learned lots of things about my little bridge group.  Some of
the women intend to buy Mr. D replicas to use on themselves, but
not only on themselves."  

She kissed me again.  "Thank you again for your help, darling. 
This card party was an enormous success, and all because of you,
and we're all grateful.  I do love you!  Now let's get to bed and
finish cleaning up in the morning."

I was so deeply depressed she could sense she hadn't reached me. 
So she added, "I wonder if there's a way you can do me while Mr. D
does you.  We haven't tried that yet, have we?  It could be
heavenly!" 

What could I say?  We did.  It was.


**************


The word must have gotten out.  At her next office party I sensed
a different attitude toward me.  The women who knew I was Cassie's
husband looked at me interestedly, surmise lifting an eyebrow here
and there, I thought.  Some of the men seemed to smirk.  I was
trying extra hard not to move my hips, because I was wearing a
brand new pair of stretch-flannel pants Cassie'd bought me to go
with a short form-fit jacket with no buttons, she called it a
"bolero."  The pants were so tight they had neither pockets nor
fly, only a side zipper to preserve their perfect fit around my
hips and rounded buttocks and the flattened front of my tucked
crotch.  "It's very in," Cassie said when I commented that it
looked a little fey.  "'Metrosexual' they call it.  It suits you."

Cassie's law clerk Clarice gave me a delighted high sign from
across the room as she checked out my tight pants, then came over
to congratulate me once again on my cooperative attitude toward
marriage.  "It's remarkable how freely you each respect the other's
desires.  Cassie's never been happier," Clarice said.  "And she
says it's all your doing!  I must say, when married people actually
encourage each other to satisfy their own needs as individuals, no
matter what kinds of needs, well, that's rare.  You must both be
very happy."  

I thanked her, though baffled by what she meant.  Other people
heard, and may have thought she meant more than merely my
willingness to wear tight pants resembling women's pants and a kind
of Spanish dancer's jacket.  Again, I couldn't tell what they were
thinking.  

Other people also went out of their way to tell me how cheerful
Cassie seemed lately, how effective in her work, and how she
constantly credited me as her "one-person support group."   They
inquired after my own line of work and asked other questions to
ingratiate themselves.  One young man said he'd heard good things
about me and asked if I was "seeing anyone," which baffled me,
because I'd just been introduced to him as Cassie's husband.  I
supposed he meant new clients.  But most people questioned me only
pro forma, not interested enough to await answers.  Other people
already knew the answers and ignored me, or so it seemed.  Cassie
was now chairing the firm's personnel committee, the one that
determines hiring and annual bonus policy, so maybe that was why I
was no longer an anonymous bystander?   Whatever, I no longer felt
anonymous.  Instead, I was a little uncomfortable.

Cassie had been off working the room, asking a question here,
looking concerned there, smiling and touching people elsewhere. 
She came up to me as people were beginning to leave to tell me that
something had come up, she had to stay on and take care of it, I'd
better just go home without her and plan on having dinner alone. 
"But I'll bring home dessert," she said.  "How about a cream pie?"

Did she know what she was saying?  "Good," I replied.  "But we came
here together.  How will you get home?"

"Oh, no problem, this man I'll be with will give me a lift when
I've taken care of his little problem."

I was sorry I'd asked, and I spent the next few hours home alone in
an exquisite state of anguish.  When Cassie finally arrived she did
indeed have a cream pie with her, a leftover from the snack table
at the party.  But we didn't get to eat it until the next day,
because on her arrival home she immediately threw herself onto the
couch with no hesitation, and flung her legs wide open, and said,
"Honeybun, eat me!"  

And so I did.  I knelt between her legs like a courtier and lapped
up all the clotted, rich juices that were running out of her.  A
real cream pie, the other kind?  "I've been thinking about you all
day," was her explanation as I nuzzled into her twat and scooped
out the viscous  blebs.  "And all through that party.  Especially
the way you look in those new pants.  Even now, when this man I was
with told me I'd finally satisfied him and he was ready to sign on
as a regular, I thought of you and of this moment, and of your
marvelous face pressed so deep in my pussy, and ....  Ahhhhhhh! 
Oh, love!  Ohhhh!"  

I licked and lapped and guzzled her, now as aroused as disturbed by
the thought that I might this very moment be devouring someone
else's sperm.  Then just as I thought I was detecting that
distinctive flavor, when I was almost sure, Cassie let loose and I
found myself swallowing mouthful after mouthful of pee.  It never
stopped!  She simply poured herself into my face as she crested on
the peak of her second orgasm.  "My love!" she cried out.  "My
beautiful love!  Oh, you're wonderful!"  And she peed on and on,
and I swallowed all of it.  My belly swelled with pee and my bosom
with pride.  I loved possessing so much of her.  Meanwhile any
evidence of someone else's cum was washed away,

When we were done, I stood up with my face hopelessly smeared, and
Cassie smiled at me for the first time since she'd arrived home. 
"I had a bladder near bursting," she said.  "And you swallowed it
all?  That's really amazing!  No submission too low for you, is
there, honey?"

I didn't think that remark was respectful.  I told her so. 

"Well then, get your pretty little ass upstairs," she replied,
unconcerned.  I decided she'd been drinking.  "I've delivered my
message to your mouth, and now Mr D needs to deliver another to
your pussy."  

This was rude, considering how devotedly I'd tried to please her,
and I told her so.  She immediately apologized.  I realized that
she might be having the same kind of problem with me I'd been
having with myself, seeking to satisfy desires you don't altogether
respect.  

But I did what she asked of me anyway, and I got my pretty little
ass upstairs, because I wanted to.  In fact my hips and butt
undulated obscenely as I mounted the stairs, because I knew she was
watching me, and I wanted to send her a message too.  "Oh, God! 
You sweet darling!" I heard her call out in appreciation from down
below.  I smiled to myself.

And she delivered everything she'd promised.  Not fifteen minutes
later all of Mr. D's accumulated messages to my pussy had been
delivered repeatedly, and Cassie's pussy was listening attentively
to my own prick's declarations.  Finally, there was no doubt about
the sperm in her -- mine.  She fell asleep exhausted while I was
still licking myself out of her and into my tummy.  There was more
of me than I'd anticipated. 


***********


"Surprise!  Look what's waiting for you in the spare bedroom!"

I'd been out buying a new computer screen for my study and Cassie
was already home.  I'd seen her car in the garage, and when I
walked in through the back door I found her waiting for me.  Her
face was flushed with excitement and she looked altogether
delighted with herself.  Proud of something, though I couldn't tell
what.

"I had a light afternoon today, the first in weeks, so I decided to
go shopping.  For both of us.  For me, a new bathing suit," she
explained.  "Summer's coming soon, and a girl can't be too
well-prepared what with all those chances to wear light clothing or
hardly any and be seen.  Then I found something just marvelous in
the first store I walked into, and I bought it then and there!"

"Really?" I said, my interest in her purchases rising almost to the
level of hers once I heard it what it was.  She had a fabulous
body, scantily clothed or naked.  "Go put it on, if you aren't
already wearing it under that gray business suit!  Show me!  What
a marvelous surprise!" 

"Oh, the bathing suit isn't the suprise," she said.  "Though it's
more daring than anything I've ever worn before.  I don't know how
you'll feel about my appearing in it at the Club.  Well, yes I do,
that's why I bought it!  I want it to drive you mad.  It's a yellow
thong Bikini, just two postage stamps up top and one more below. 
Very attractive, or anyhow it will be when I'm in it.  It's hardly
there at all.  I thought about all those unattached men who hang
around the pool after tennis, those tanned, muscular types, you've
seen them, and I thought about you, and then I couldn't resist! 
It'll drive you crazy!  In fact, I've made a plan for my first time
wearing it there.  You'll stay in the shade and watch.  I'll act
very demure and proper, even though I'll be practically naked, and
I'll circle the pool once and then settle into a chair and stretch
out and close my eyes.  Then I'll wait to see which one of those
tennis studs talks to me first.  I bet it'll be Jerry.  He's always
been a little aloof, but I hear he's gotten much more friendly with
the other wives since his own got tired of him tomcatting around
and left him.  And the gossip since my card party does pretty much
have it that you're exploring your gay side and I'm being
neglected."

"You don't correct that impression?" I asked.  Not that I was
anti-gay or anything, but because, quite simply, I'd tried to
fantasize being gay and failed even to register as bisexual.  I
just wasn't.  It was only as a woman, or a self-degraded and
effeminate but hetero man, that I could deal with those phone calls
and with Mr. D.

"Oh, no!" Cassie said.  "The girls are all so envious of me now,
being married to a man as understanding and solicitous as you are. 
If they thought you were straight and available they'd all try for
a piece of you.  And you're much to precious to share!" 

I was not happy to hear this.  But Cassie was committed to doing
this to me, this kind of thing, for my own sake as she said, so I'd
feel utterly mortified, then helplessly jealous, then flattered,
bound closer to her as I was hooked more firmly by the perverse
pleasures of each.  And she'd succeeded.  She could make me feel
fretful and yet peculiarly submissive these days with just a
glance, and it was all incredibly arousing.  I had to admit it, our
sex life since she'd set me on this journey had been fantastic. 
But if her bathing suit wasn't the surprise, what was?
  
"I'm looking forward to seeing the bathing suit," I said, quite
sure I wasn't, but there was a titillated streak in me eager to
taste the humiliation when "Jerry" made his moves on her.   "But
what's the surprise for me?"  I looked around for evidences of
something, an empty carton or wrapping paper, and I suddenly
realized that Mr. D was missing.  His harness was no longer
attached to the back of the chair where each morning I bent down to
suck him off.  Was that my surprise?  She no longer wanted me to
register in my own mind as a compliant cocksucker?  The novelty,
her pleasure in seeing me debased, had worn off?  Did she intend to
wear the harness herself from now on?   

"I told you, it's in the spare room!  I'll come with you."  She
looked like a cat with a mouthful of canary, gleeful and utterly
unapologetic.

So the two of us together went upstairs and down the hallway to the
guest bedroom.  The door was closed, which was odd because we
always leave it ajar when the room is unoccupied.

"Is someone in there?  Is someone visiting us?"  I asked her,
reluctant to put my hand on the doorknob and intrude on anyone's
privacy, even in my own house

"Yes and no.  Open the door, honey!  It's a present for you."

I opened it and was stunned!  Just inside, standing calmly by the
bed with one hand resting on the nearby bureau, looking directly at
me, was a devastatingly handsome but stark naked man!  There was an
enormous erection poking out of his pubic hair, a prick rising even
higher than his navel!  He looked at me impassively, listening
patiently as I tried to mutter incoherent apologies for intruding
on him, quite untroubled by my disarray as I turned to leave and
found Cassie in the way.  It took me a moment to realize I was
wasting my breath.  He wasn't at all bothered or embarrassed. 
While I tried to back out the door past Cassie, he didn't move,
just continue to stare at me with a fixed, friendly expression. 
His cock remained at full mast, implacable. 

It came to me all at once.  He wasn't real!  He was a dummy!  I
turned bright red with embarrassment, though I had no idea why.

"Isn't he a darling, honey?  And he's all yours!  He's your dearest
friend from now on.  His name's Jerry, same as that guy I hope to
see more of at the Club.  Maybe soon we'll each have a Jerry in our
lives!  I can't wait to see you two get better acquainted!"

"Cassie ...!  What? ...How?" 

"He was in the back room at the swimsuit store, and he caught my
eye at once!  Handsome?  He's brand new, a buff model man intended
for exhibition in store windows, you know, dressed in the latest in
swimming trunks and coverups and joggers and the like.  What woman
could ever refuse him?  I couldn't resist, I had to have him!"

I began to realize what Cassie had in mind.  "Why the erection?" I
asked warily.  "He's seen too many beach bunnies?"

"No, silly!  You know perfectly well what that's for!  He's your
boyfriend now.  You'll live with him, even sleep with him when I
tell you to, and you'll suck his cock to make him feel good the
same way you did with Mr. D." 

Inadvertently I checked out his cock with my mouth in mind.  This
was more challenging, and more disturbing too.  This was a full
scale male.

And he'll make love to you, too.  He can do it even when I'm not
here to help, I'll show you.  I tried him out earlier this
afternoon, as soon as I got him home in fact.  God, an incredible
lover!  That cock is just marvelous, and so is his whole body! 
You'll see, you'll just love him.  He's a new kind of soft plastic,
as smooth and yielding as natural flesh, so he feels real!  And
I've had him improved.  He didn't have that cock when I bought him,
of course, they wouldn't sell many bathing suits if he did.  So I
brought him to the nearest sex boutique I could find and they
fitted him out with it, the very latest of "marital aids" as they
call them."  

It looked much bigger than Mr. D's.  I was well-stretched by now,
but I still wasn't sure about taking anything like that into
myself.

"And then they re-equipped him to be a perfect lover.  To feel
warm, if you should ever want to snuggle with him, but that's not
how he's perfect.  Listen, sweetie, you'll love this!  His ass is
counterweighted and spring-loaded and his torso is pliable.  So if
you thrust your rump or your groin at him he'll thrust back, really
ream you in return with that eternally erect cock.  The more
excited you get, the more excited he gets!"

My God!  A doll that fucks back!  

"Better still, he's loaded with a full gallon of the artificial cum
the boutique sells fetishists.  It's stickier and more authentic
than your salted honey and milk.  They guarantee you can't tell it
in your mouth from the real thing.  His balls pump it through that
tower of his and into you in just the right amount just about when
you get desperately eager and you've gotta have it, and in your
passion you hug a pressure point in the small of his back.  No more
awkward squeezing of Mr. D's balls.  Jerry here will always cum
when the time's right, the same way you do.  Isn't he perfect?"  

Cassie seemed to be waiting for a reply.  What did she want?  Was
this what she wanted for me?  I couldn't find my voice.  Finally,
all I could say was, "Yes, Cassie, he's perfect.  Where's Mr. D
now?"

"Oh, from now on Mr. D will sleep with me whenever you're spending
the night here with Jerry.  We may do a menage a trois, and I may
borrow him now and then for my own purposes, but Jerry's your
boyfriend, mainly.  So Mr. D's now mine.  You wouldn't want me to
get lonely and go looking for a real cock to take into our bed when
you're in here balling with Jerry, now would you?"

"No."  My mind was addled.  This was ... this wasn't right!  "Ah,
Cassie, can we go somewhere and talk?"

"How very dear!  Sweetheart!  You're already thinking of him as a
real man, aren't you?  But there's no need!  Jerry's now a member
of our family!  We have no secrets from him.   

I didn't know where to begin.  "You said you've had him?  You tried
him out?" I asked numbly.  She'd said just that.  Why was I asking? 
Finally, at last, she'd just confessed openly that she'd been
unfaithful to me after all, the very thing I'd been suspecting and
fearing and yet perversely desiring?  But with a clothing store
dummy?  Was it possible?  Why did I feel betrayed and yet excited? 


Her voice and manner lost their playful tone, and her concerned,
serious lawyer face looked at me.  "I don't think you understand
yet, honey.  You see the head of that cock of his?  It's
impressive, isn't it?  Well, I got your boyfriend home and I saw
that pillar standing there and I couldn't resist, I just had to
have something that huge inside me.  So I took him into our very
own bed and I wrapped my legs around his waist and Oh, God! he
fucked me nearly to death.  For maybe three hours, Hal!  The more
passionate you get with him, the more passionate he gets!  He was
magnificent!  From now on, you'll be feeling obliged to him, I
don't doubt it.  Understand me.  The tip of his cock is the new
head of our family.  Your job will be to service and cherish it and
to enjoy whatever it offers you in return."

I just stared.  She looked back at me in perfect earnestness for a
moment.  Then her playful manner returned, and she added, "Oh,
you'll service me too of course.  Because you're still the love of
my life, and I still can't conceive of any kind of life without
you.  But isn't this gloriously humiliating, that you're now second
fiddle to a dummy?  Jerry is now my personal assistant in helping
me achieve the goal that's dearest to me in life, and that's making
you the happiest man in the world.  Or maybe the happiest woman!" 


She walked over to the mannequin and clasped him around his waist,
raising one of his arms to rest lightly on her shoulder, and smiled
affectionately into his face.

"There'll be nothing indeterminate about the gender of any of
Jerry's partners.  That prick's too definitive.  You'll can end up
as either Jerry's boy catamite, a male fuck-toy's fuck-toy walking
around with a dazed, happy expression, and an asshole perpetually
shiny with KY and vaseline, or else as a voluptuous slut who can't
stuff him into her cunt often enough.  I myself hope he'll
encourage you to settle in once and for all as that sweet girl with
the tiger appetites, that feminine self you've been discovering. 
That you'll stay married to me but keep Jerry as your outside
lover, the man you see on the side.  I won't mind.  That's what
he's for.  But that's up to you."

I was still too stunned.  I couldn't think.  I just stood there.

"He's a great fuck, honey," Cassie added confidentially, as if
woman to woman.  "Trust me, I know!  You'll find out soon enough."

"You ... know!" was all I could get out.  I was still staggered. 
She'd fucked this man?  No, this doll?  This doll with a huge
prick?  He ... it was my rival?

"Yes, that's pretty heavy, isn't it?  I brought you a steady
boyfriend and then slept with him first?  Well, don't make it more
than it is, baby, there's nothing between us.  It was just sex --
I needed to know if he was good enough for you.  Believe me, he is. 
We'll be sharing him now and then.  Understood?"

She paused and waited for a further response from me.  There was
none.

"Well, seriously, honey, I don't hear you protesting or threatening
to walk out on me.  And that means you've accepted his place and
yours in this household from now on."  She grinned.  "This is just
kinky enough to appeal to you, isn't it?  Maybe you should do right
now what you've already learned to do in the presence of your
betters, when you see a superior cock?  Why don't you drop to your
knees in front of Jerry and ask him in your sweetest girl voice if
you can suck him off."

I still couldn't move.

Cassie's voice became more severe.  "We've been over and over this
scenario in our imaginations, Hal!  Haven't we?  A man fucks me. 
I tell you to suck the cock that's just fucked your wife, to show
there're no hard feelings.  You do that.  See how Jerry's rod is
still glistening?  Those are my juices on it.  I'd just barely
unwrapped my legs from him when your car pulled into the garage. 
We'd been fucking for hours, and I have no idea how many times we
both came.  Now it's your turn.  So on your knees and kiss his tip,
if you can reach it.  You know what to do.  Suck the cock that's
still wet from fucking me!"

I had no idea what to do, so that's what I did.  Kneel before him
and look up.  He looked down at me benignly, as if understanding
how I couldn't help myself, giving permission.  I seized that baton
and pulled it down toward my mouth.  It was warm.  It felt like
ordinary skin.  I licked the underside.  It tasted of Cassie, and
also the way I tasted when I sucked myself out of Cassie.  But this
wasn't me, it was Jerry.  Her other lover.  His cum, not mine.  I
was on my knees and about to suck a cock that had just cuckolded
me, and I still didn't know if it truly had cuckolded me, if a
dummy can ever really cuckold a real husband!  This was worse than
my worst fear -- it was certain knowledge, but also uncertainty
about that knowledge.  Both!  

Moreover, I suddenly realized, it isn't just self-betrayal.  Now
and then when I eat Cassie I'd be sucking Jerry's cum out of her. 
Equally humiliating!  If find the taste of sperm in there and I
haven't recently slept with with Cassie, there'll be no way for me
to know whose it is, Jerry's or someone else's.  Like it or not,
knowing it or not, I now had to share my wife.