My husband and I haven’t been the best of couples but, somehow, we have made our home a nest of true lovers. Through thick and thin, he has never left me in doubt of his love, care and commitment. But I don’t trust him with women. Even when he is not chasing them, women are always crushing on him. Kerry has it all. Sweet, suave, statuesque fluent and affluent, he has a dignifying dress sense and dizzying romantic courtesies that would keep any lady salivating.
Apart from his physical attraction, upscale lifestyle and comical appeal, Kerry is a workaholic behind close doors. Even after a decade of regular sex, I still moan like a lunatic whenever Kerry mounts me; especially when he suspends my legs in the air for optimum penetration. His manhood is thick when in full throttle. So, my unexpressed fear has always been that any lady that tastes Kerry’s sweet banana is bound to stay around him. My husband is endowed in all ramifications and particularly influential in bed.
We don’t agree on many things but we don’t disagree either. In most cases, when we have contentions we look at the intentions and the tension disappears. That explains my choice of ‘true lovers’ in describing our relationship.
For instance, early last month we took a decision to beef up security in our house in the wake of rising cases of burglary in our Estate, Gaskia Golden Court, Garki Abuja. We both agreed on the installation of CCTV but we disagreed on whether or not a camera should be placed in our bedroom. Kerry insisted and I concurred based on superior argument that a camera in our room would snoop on our cleaners who have access to our inner chambers. It was done.
Three days after the installation, Kerry and I left home together one Saturday morning. We drove in different cars and went in different directions. While I went to a salon to braid my hair, Kerry drove to a neighbourhood supermarket to buy some bottles of red wine, whiskey and champagne. He returned home early while I spent the whole day in the salon.
Two days later, I did a routine check of the recordings of the CCTV. I was shocked and shattered. Apparently, Kerry brought a woman home last Saturday while I was in the salon. Not just any woman but our neighbour’s wife, Jane. Unfortunately for him, it didn’t occur to him to switch off the CCTV before embarking on his adulterous romp.
In the 26-minute footage, Kerry was seen making a phone call. Five minutes later, Jane entered our living room, beaming with smiles. My husband hugged and kissed her passionately, pushed her towards the sofa. Jane quickly unstrapped her wrist watch and stepped out of her fitted short gown. Her round, robust hips stuck out atop her hot heels. Kerry slouched and held her laps, using his fingers to comb her curled pubic hair lusciously. At once, he led her into our matrimonial room. From the way Jane jaunted into the king size bed, it showed that she was familiar with my room. In other words, this may not be their first adulterous act in our bedroom. But this should be the most audacious.
Kerry inserted a finger into her pussy while sucking her nipples. Suddenly, he rolled off the bed, brought a pack of condom from his wallet and wore it on his turgid dick.
He kissed her again as he began to thrust from her backside. Jane twitched and turned her neck uncontrollably.
I cried bitterly as I watched my husband screwing my neighbour’s wife on our matrimonial bed. I began to wail when Jane took my towel from the rack, had shower and even used my body cream!
After watching the gory video of Kerry’s escapades, I vowed to fight dirty. I swore to share the filthy film on social media. First, I downloaded the footage into my laptop, later converted it to MP4 and saved it in my android phone.
I sent the clips to Jane through WhatsApp. I also sent it to my husband. Neither of them acknowledged my indestructible evidence. But they both read my messages. Soon, Kerry came back home, crawling on his knees. He begged me. I ignored his pleas. I just told him I was going to send the video to Mr. Gabriel Ilesanmi, Jane’s husband. Ilesanmi is not just our neighbour but he is also a member of our church. Jane and I sit together in our women’s meeting in our parish yet she had effrontery to commit adultery with my husband in my own house.
While Kerry continued to beg, my phone rang. It was Jane. ” I have nothing to discuss with you, Jane. You are nothing but a cheap harlot. I’m sending this video to your husband. I’m sending to the pastor” I said to her. And I hung up afterwards. She began to send messages, asking for forgiveness and blaming her debauchery on the devil. My reply was terse. ” Go and explain to your husband. “
Kerry paced up and down , worried, confused and embattled. He picked his car keys and stormed out of the house, without uttering a word.
One hour later, he returned, reeking in liquor. His grimace showed that he was ready to fight back. And he did. Kerry dared me to send out the video.
” If you send the video to her husband, Jane will be sent packing. For your information, I won’t allow her to suffer in vain. So, be ready to welcome a second wife… I will marry her and bring her home. The choice is yours. Forget this matter and we live in peace. Or send the video and have another woman in this house, ” he declared with a decisive frown.
My head started spinning. “What did he just say?” My phone fell off my hands. My heart raced in sudden palpitations and I began to sweat profusely. My voice quaked as I tried to speak.
Kerry repeated his threat and went out again, leaving me in more confusion. It was my time to cry. Tears gushed out of my eyes. The hunter has become the hunted. “What do I do now?” I began an emergency dialogue with my shadows. Send the video to Jane’s husband and allow Kerry marry her? No! I chose to forgive her. After all, I’m a Christian.
