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- Nov 22, 2025
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- 298
The Story
My parents convinced David to take me back into the house, not as a wife, not as a lover but as a tenant. That was when I found out that my 60 year old plus parents still had a very active sex life.
In between moving out and coming back David and I had worked out the finances. We split the savings and agreed he would keep the house and pay me monthly what he could afford now that he had picked up all the mortgage without my salary. He would have some rent from me whilst my share of the savings lasted or until I could get a job. He should be able to keep up payments with the rent I paid him. It meant he wouldn't be able to pay me much for my share of the house. It did mean the money was going round in circles. I was okay with that.
That fitted in with my plan. It suited me that he didn't sell the house. I wanted him here where I could find him and not moving away. The first morning Dave had some paperwork for me. One was a rental agreement detailing how much I paid, and it stated I had no claim on the house. The utility bills will be split in half when they arrive. I signed it agreeing to without arguing.
The other piece of paper he laid in front of me were some ground rules which I agreed to, although I didn't intend to stick to some of them, there was a bit of wiggle room in there. I would basically pay rent and sleep in our daughter Julie's bedroom. It was much more feminine than our son Jack's. The other rule we had agreed on was the division of labour. We would each cook our own meals, wash the pots we used, do our own washing, he would do the bins, house repairs and the garden, whilst I kept the house tidy, we would wash and get our own cars serviced. He emptied a kitchen cupboard for my food and half the fridge, so we had our own place for our food. He still had his own beer fridge, he allowed me to put my white wine in there.
The rules were simple, if slightly one sided, well, very one sided. There were still over five months to run before the divorce was final. But David decided we were now free agents and did not have to wait for the divorce. I think he wanted to punish me. It worked. I was absolutely certain there was no way he was going to stop the divorce. He warned me more than once that if I had sex with another man, he would divorce me, and David, bless him, keeps his promises when he can. He can definitely keep this one. I have no say in the matter. I am not allowed to bring a man into the house, but he could bring a woman. There were other things, but they didn't matter, anyway I had no intention of bringing a man back into this house, I had no intention of sleeping with any other man except David. If he brought a woman here after what I did to him, I would just have to suck it up. I didn't think he would do that and rub my face in it. He was just too nice a bloke.
We were both getting on a bit, neither of us would see two score year and three again. Neither of us were ugly. In fact, as I had found out, I did scrub up rather well, as did David when he could be bothered. Dave was a good-looking, humorous, intelligent, polite man, he would probably not have too many problems picking up a divorcee or something of that nature if he tried.
But I had a secret weapon over every other woman on this planet. I've known David for over 25 years, we had produced a family together. I knew him, his likes, his dislikes. What turned him off, cheating wives obviously, but what turned him on, and I would play to them, but I would have to be careful. He would recognise any ploy of mine to get back together. Probably the only person I had to worry about was my ex-friend Sophie who promised him a revenge fuck for my cheating, which was ironic because she was the one that suggested I cheat on him. Mind you I don't think Dave, with what he knows now would not put his cock within a yard of her pussy.
It had crossed my mind that perhaps she pushed me that way so she could get a night with my husband as part of her open marriage. That would have broken one of the rules that she and her husband, Tony, had agreed to as part of their open marriage. Not with anybody they know. However, in our discussions in the past she had shown me she had scant regard for those rules.
I spent all my time looking for a new job. I had several interviews. There isn't much call for electronic engineers in our town. Apart from the one I had to leave because I slept with Claude Wetherby against company policy. I had to broaden my search area. I had offers of interviews through various job sites that had received my CV, but they were out of the county, and they would have meant moving away. That did not fit in with my plan to get my husband back. It had to be somewhere I could travel daily.
For the first two weeks I worked hard keeping a distance between me and David. Initially I watched the television in my room, rarely leaving it apart from mealtimes and to do housework which was mainly when David was at work. Most of my time I spent job hunting.
David was working long hours on his latest project. He designed the interior of ambulances with all that electronic equipment. He didn't tell me what his current job was. I think he buried his mind in his work after what I did to him. Also, the overtime money would be useful to pay me for the house. But after two weeks I decided the time was right and I started doing little things by pouring him tea or coffee when I made one for me. Well, that is what house mates do for each other.
One night after about a month Dave was going to be particularly late, he had texted me to tell me. Although I had no right, I had nagged him earlier about not telling me when he was going to be late, I admitted to him I still cared for him, so it was cruel of him not to let me know when he was going to be late in case something had gone wrong or he had an accident. That's what house mates do for each other.
On that evening, I made my dinner, but I made too much. When Dave got in, I could see he was tired. I hoped he had not stopped off at the fish and chip shop on the way home. He hadn't, when he came in, I told him I had cooked too much, and he could have what was left over. It was Stew and Dumplings. I told him there was only one dumpling left. He helped himself. Stew and Dumplings is not one of his favourites, but it was certainly something he liked. I made it just the way he preferred it, big square potatoes, a gentle sprinkling of mixed herbs with thick gravy. No onions.
When he sat down, I went to his fridge and took a bottle of his beer. I got a beer glass and a bottle opener and placed it in front of him. He would have to pour it himself. There were beer cans in his fridge, but it was more effort for me to bring a bottle and the glass and more effort for him to open it and pour it, in some way we were working as a team.
I smiled at him and went to bed.
The following morning, I was up early. When Dave came down, I was sitting at the kitchen table with my laptop. He still looked tired. I was just checking emails. He thanked me for dinner last night. I let him know there was plenty of tea in the pot if he wanted one. He helped himself. After he had sat down, I asked him if he wanted toast or cereal for breakfast. I didn't give him a chance to answer. I went to his cupboard, got his bread and popped it in the toaster. Then I went and got butter and marmalade from his fridge, a knife and a side plate and put it in front of him. He would have to butter his own toast. When the toast popped up, I put it on his plate and left taking my laptop with me.
We settled into that breakfast routine. It was comfortable for the next week. That is what I was aiming for, comfortable. I didn't cook him another meal, that would have been too contrived, and he would see straight through that.
The following week my television broke. I was about to watch one of our favourite programmes that we used to watch together. I told David my telly had packed up, and I suspected a fuse and asked if I could borrow one? He told me I knew where they were and to help myself, I did. It wasn't the fuse, oddly enough. It was never going to be, I'm an electronics engineer. I know how stuff works and how to make it not work. The television programme was about to start, and I asked David if I could watch it with him as my television wasn't working. He agreed, and we sat at each end of the sofa. During one of the adverts, I went to make some tea for both of us. It's what we would have done in the old days, but we would have sat closer together. Whether he noticed my ploy or not, I don't know, he didn't say.
We still never ate together.
I know he went out a few times. Mainly with mates from work. I didn't smell any ladies perfume on him when he got home. The only time I went out was to see my parents and I made sure that my mother let him know where I was. She would phone him to see if I got home alright. I had been asked to go out with some of my ex-workmates, but I declined. I think they wanted to pick my brains on the project they were working on that I'd had to leave. I did invite them around to the house for coffee and on more than one occasion some of my former fellow engineers were there when Dave got home.
There was never any mention of what happened to the man I slept with, Claude Wetherby. It appears he just disappeared off the face of the earth as far as my colleagues were concerned after an initial shouting from the CFO's office. What stuck in people's mind was the comment from the CFO. "And don't expect to get invited for Christmas lunch, now get out!" Claude disappeared after that and was never seen in the office again. I think people put two and two together, came up with four but were too polite to ask.
I had a couple of job interviews; there wasn't much in our local area. It appears I was too experienced, and most people wanted somebody younger and cheaper.
Then I got a job interview for a company that was a supplier of assembled components for Bright Electronics where I used to work. It wasn't much of an interview, more of a chat between engineering colleagues, they asked my opinion on some of their ideas, I gave them answers. What surprised me was they offered me the job there and then.
I had a feeling that something was a tad off. That was sort of confirmed when I left the building with a skip in my step my new boss said. "Oh, by the way Nigel Wetherby sends his regards." Nigel Wetherby, CFO of Bright Electronics and the father of the man I had spent the night with. I wasn't sure how to take that, perhaps it was an apology for his son seducing me. But Wetherby junior could not take all the blame, a large portion of it was mine. I had pushed that event to the back of my mind. It was something i wanted to forget, I didn't know whether to cry or laugh on my way home.
With my parents' help I had managed to keep my car, I was planning to sell it and use the bus to get around, but it didn't come to that. That was part of the reason my father used to get me back into Dave's house. He was on a bus route, they were not.
The job was as a production manager, not what I had done in the past, but the brief was to improve reliability of the circuit boards we produced and reduce the costs if possible. It didn't pay as much as I got at Bright's but there were opportunities.
I decided it was a good thing.
David knew I was going for an interview and when it was due to finish. He sent me a text and asked me how I got on. I decided to keep it close to my chest. I just replied. "It went okay."
After that I sent him a text message. "Are you home?"
He texted back. "No leaving in 10."
"I'm hungry. I don't want to cook. Can I bring something in for us both?"
He replied. "Okay, make it simple."
"Sorry, fancy a Chinese, but I don't have enough money, can you sub me?"
He thought I was running low on cash, well I was, most of the money I had was tied up in savings and I couldn't have instant access to it.
I was on tender hooks waiting for his reply. I know Chinese is his favourite. Then I got it. "Okay, go overdrawn, I'll transfer money when I get in to cover it. But it's only a loan." If I hadn't been sitting outside the Chinese in my car I would have danced a jig. I know exactly what he likes. Whilst I was waiting for the food, I popped across to the small local supermarket and picked up a cheap bottle of red wine.
David was home when I got there, plates were set on the kitchen table. I carried in the bag of food and held up the bottle of wine saying. "I got the job. I start a week Monday. I hope you don't mind. I splashed out a little. It's only a cheap bottle."
What surprised me was the smile that lit up his face. I felt he was genuinely happy for me. That was the first time in about 7 weeks we ate together. That made me happy too. We sat there and I told him all about the interview and my new job and what I knew of it so far.
I sat there looking across the top of my wine glass at the man I loved. Yes, I was being conniving, but I never actually told any lies. This man had not left my heart; I might have left his, after what I did. But he was still firmly embedded in mine, I had to be here with him to make it up to him for the pain I caused, to help him heal.
He sat there eating the food and drinking the rubbish wine. He was the happiest I'd seen him for a while. That was what I wanted, the man sitting opposite me to be happy.
I had to backhand a tear away. I think he noticed, he looked up at me from his dinner and smiled.
When we finished, I cleared away the plates, there were not many. David took the wine and my glass through into the living room, he fetched himself a beer. It was a Friday night he would have more than one. I thought I might approach him tonight but decided that was not a good idea.
David had turned the television on but there's nothing there that interested us. My television was still broken. I told him some more things about my new job, he seemed genuinely pleased for me. Then I said to him, "I think my old CFO, Nigel Wetherby had something to do with it."
I wondered how he would react to the name Wetherby. Nothing, that was good.
It was Saturday evening, David was sitting in the conservatory reading. It looked like a specification or a data sheet. He was making notes on a pad. He had been at work all day. I asked him if I could link to the printer as I had my new contract to print out, to be signed and returned. He said I could, that was good. It was all queued up anyway, I went back to my laptop and pressed print.
After it had printed, I took the papers and walked into the conservatory. He smiled as I walked in. I lifted up the contract and said. "I have you to thank for letting me stay here and for your support. You've been good to me, you never shouted at me, you treated me with respect and like an equal. Your quiet support has meant so much to me. I want to thank you properly."
I laid the papers down, walked across to him and took the sheet and the notepad from his hands and put them on the windowsill. I reached for his belt and started undoing it, it was plainly obvious to him what I wanted. He grabbed hold of my wrists. Looking at me, saying, "No, we cannot do that, we're separated."
"Who's going to know?"
"You could tell the court?"
"Why would I do that? If I do that, it will set the divorce back months and you will throw me out, trust me I will not tell anyone." I tilted my head to one side. "The only risk is old Mr Jones next door putting his head over the fence and sees us and reports us. He puts his head over the fence four or five times a year, so yes, it's risky, but one that we can manage. I don't think his cat will tell on us either." He smiled. By now I had managed to get his zip undone and my hand in his trousers. I could feel his cock getting hard.
And I was wet, that was when I realised how much I wanted this.
I managed to free his cock from his trousers, he lifted his backside so I could pull them further down, and there it was. I couldn't help it. I took it in my mouth all the way. I heard him groan; I looked up at him with his cock in my mouth. He likes it when I do that. But he couldn't see, his head was back, his eyes closed. I pulled my mouth off, moved up and slipped my legs either side of the chair, pulled my knickers aside, straddled and slid onto him. Bloody hell it felt good. I dare not say it out loud, but him inside me was better than Wetherby.
My eyes were closed. I was just enjoying the feeling as I moved slowly up and down. I felt him grab hold of my waist and he slid us off the chair onto the floor.
He started screwing me long and slow, I wrapped my arms and legs around him. I didn't want him to leave, he picked up speed. It was hard and deep.
His head was on my shoulder as he rammed into me, I felt myself coming. I was going to scream, it was so good. I was grunting, he knows what comes after the grunting is generally a scream and I mustn't, someone would hear and work out what was happening. "I'm coming." I said. He eased himself back and clamped his hand over my mouth, partly blocking my nose. That was it, one thrust deep into me and I screamed into his hand. I hung around his neck, my legs round his waist, not wanting to let him go. I felt him shudder as he came. He removed his hand. I took a deep breath.
I heard him mutter quietly. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have blocked your nose."
It was my turn, I rolled until he was on his back with me on top. He was still inside me but starting to wilt. Looking up at me he said. "Go on, say it."