but heaven for Helen

I lust after my wife. After seven years of marriage, many men would love their wives, but I still lust after her. I think she is hot, I can picture her perfect skin, from the curve of her breast, the gentle flow to her waist and the sexy dip down to her sex. But is her face that has always captivated me. She has the most amazing brown eyes, wide like a babies, perfectly in proportion to her round face, framed by blonde hair, normally styled in a bob. She is my idea of feminine perfection. I swear she could wear a sack cloth and I would think she looked sexy.

Which is why its is killing me watching her with this guy, flirting with him at a table no more than 10 feet away from where I currently sit. If I thought it was confusing watching that video whilst she whispered in my ear, this is that times ten. I am overloaded with emotions - at it's base is fear - fear of losing her to this man. Then lust - there is a primal lust that kicks in when another male is after your mate, compounded by the stimulation of my cock being stroked by this beautiful woman whispering in my ear. And finally, like a cherry on a cake, a huge dose of humiliation due to Rachel and this stranger in front of me both watching this with me, understanding and knowing that my wife is doing this to me.

There is something deeply chastening the fact that this is not our secret, within our marriage, but that it is public, both in its setting and in front of others.

Of course my wife is oblivious to all this. She is having a wonderful time with this man. Not once looking in my direction - to all intents and purposes a couple on a date, having a nice meal in an overpriced, trendy restaurant. They look good together. In my confusion I can't help but mentally flog myself about why this is turning me on so much, why I am not manning up and stopping it.

Eventually, the sexy couple I am watching finish their desert and pay the bill. As the evening goes on they have been more and more flirty, holding hands, Helen hanging on his every word, flicking her hair which I know is 'tell' when she is feeling horny. He whispers something in her ear, and rises, walking confidently to the corridor that leads to the toilets. Two minutes later, and with deliberate casualness, my wife standing up, runs her hands down her dress to straighten it, looks across and makes eye contact with myself, winks and then walks towards the toilets.

The woman in front, who has never really stopped listening to Rachel teasing me through the meal turns around, ignoring me, to talk to Rachel "Oh my god, this is it, they're going to do it in the toilet. What a slut!"

"She's **** poor girl, she hasn't had any decent cock in a long time. Cucky here just doesn't cut it"

"Well she's going to get it now. He looks like he fucks hard, god, I bet he's hung"

I have had enough. It's the final straw and I am going to stop this. I get up, pushing Rachel out of the way. I stride towards the toilets. I have no idea what I will do when I confront them, but I know something will come to me.

The corridor is dimly lit, littered with people, I barge past and storm into the men's room. Not there, I check the stalls but nothing. I am conscious of time passing, how quickly he could have her skirt up around her waist and be entering her. I can picture it in my mind eye. It make sense that they would use the women's bathroom - it would feel more natural for Helen. Steeling myself I barge in, ignoring the complaints from angry women at this strange man barging in. I bang on the cubicle doors demanding to know where they are, calling out her name, Some women are looking at me smirking, accentuating my humiliation, but most are angry. But Helen is not here.

I'm starting to panic now. Angry women are threatening to call the police and I back out of there fast . It is only then I notice the corridor goes further back, through to a back room, a dancefloor. I walk through searching, but I already know the answer when I see the separate entrance for the nightclub.

They have gone... my wife has left with another man.

I stand, awash with emotions. Rachel is in on this - the must know where they are going. I rush back to the bar. I am going to give her a piece of my mind for her part in this, and find out where my wife is.

But she is gone also.

The stranger who has listened in all night is looking at me, laughing.