For a long time, Stacey suspected that her husband was having an affair and tonight was the night she was going to catch him. For nearly a month she had come home to find her husband sitting and sweating at the kitchen table, with his shirt buttoned improperly and the whole place smelling like sex. It didn’t matter how hard she tried though, no matter how quickly she sped home, no matter how quietly she’d sneak up the driveway, she could not catch him in the act. She would always find him the same way and no matter how hard she looked, she could never find the skank, whoever she was. But tonight was different, she’d told her husband that she would be a bit late coming home, only she wasn’t even going to work at all. Instead, she was sitting in a hire car on the other side of the street, ready to catch him balls-deep in some whore.

 

Stacey’s husband returned home from work at around five o’clock, about the time he usually would, two hours before the end of Stacey’s work day. Hopping out of the car, he looked about sheepishly before turning his key in the front door and sneaking inside. A few moments later the blinds in the front living room snapped shut, followed by the blinds in the bedroom. This was it, Stacey knew, she was going to catch him, she just needed to wait until the mistress arrived.

 

Two hours passed by slowly as Stacey sat and yawned at the front of her house. Sitting still for so long was starting to get to her. There’d been no sign of someone approaching the house and she was starting to lose faith in her plan. On a normal work day she would be arriving home at any minute now, yet nothing had happened. The idleness had left her with plenty of time to develop different theories regarding the ways in which her husband was cheating. Maybe he had a secret tunnel that he snuck her into the house through? Maybe she had arrived really early and had let herself in with a key that her husband had left her? Or maybe she’d simply been let in through the back door? The thought suddenly made her sit bolt upright in her seat. Did the blinds of the living room window just flutter? She could be in there right now!

 

Throwing open the car door, Stacey bolted across the front lawn and shoulder charged the front door. A sickening crack reverberated throughout the house as wood splintered and the door gave way, sending Stacey crashing into the hallway. For a brief second she thought she heard the sound of a stifled moan. She was furious. The house was dim and it took a while for her eyes to adjust as she darted down the long hallway to the kitchen. Behind the door she could hear the familiar slapping sound of skin on skin. She was going to murder the slut that had corrupted her husband, and then she was going to burn her husband alive. Yet when she flung the door open, her jaw dropped as she caught sight of her husband standing stark-naked in front of the oven with his dick in a carved-out leg of ham…

 

For a while now Trevor had begun to suspect that his wife was growing suspicious of him, which made things difficult when it came to his favourite after-work pastime. Jerking off. Since they’d gotten married five years ago, Trevor’s wife had become more and more involved in her work and the idea of sex, and having kids had began to slowly drift out of the window. What this meant was that Trevor suddenly had a lot of spare time on his hands and an ever-growing pair of overripe testicles. He was horny all the time, but the thought of cheating on his wife made him sick. It wasn’t her fault that she was good at her job and was excelling at everything they threw at her. She was basically paying their mortgage all by herself. Cheating was bad, but there was no harm in slapping the ‘old fella’ about every afternoon or so. As long as his wife didn’t find out, he didn’t have to worry about her feeling obsolete when it came to his happiness. He’d simply keep it all a big secret. It shouldn’t be too hard as his wife didn’t come home until late and plenty of other guys he knew did it often and got away with it.

 

At first it started out with just a few sessions in front of the laptop, with some quality pornography open in an incognito window and a tub of Vaseline nearby. But then things began to spiral. Soon he found himself researching male sex toys and other pleasure items, only he couldn’t buy any as his wife monitored the credit cards. Sometimes he sat naked in the dark, with his eyes closed and his headphones on, his dick in his hands and his ears being raped to the sound of hardcore moaning that he’d downloaded online. That method got thrown out however, when his wife had come home early and almost caught him. He’d only just had enough time to pull his clothes on and flick on the light upon hearing the car pull up. He’d missed a few buttons on his shirt though, causing his wife to search about the house for some mistress she suspected he had.

 

Soon after Trevor’s close call, things became difficult. He knew she’d become more vigilant, coming home a little quicker and sneaking silently up the driveway with the engine turned off.  He was becoming less certain on when exactly she would get home, which only made things all the more thrilling. What didn’t help however was that he’d almost exerted all his different masturbation methods. Most things didn’t cut it anymore. It had been a while since he’d properly gotten off.

 

One particular morning everything seemed to change and Trevor finally got his big break. He’d watched a movie the night before where one of the main characters had tried to fuck a pie and the film had given him the idea that maybe the same thing would work for him. Heading downstairs for breakfast, he was disappointed to find that they did not have any pies in the fridge when he opened it for a sneaky peek. They did, however, have a leg of ham that looked quite soft. All he had to do was wait until his wife was out, heat it up a little, carve a hole and he’d be ready to go. He’d have to be careful of course, make sure she was going to be at work all day and pretend that he’d eaten the ham for lunch.

 

With his plan laid out, Trevor stood at the kitchen counter waiting for the kettle to boil for his morning coffee. In the next room, he could hear his wife arguing with the office over the phone. To his delight she came in a little while later and announced that she would be kept a bit late at work that evening. As she gave him a kiss and walked out of the front door, she missed the little fist pump that he gave to himself. Tonight would be the night. The ham was almost winking to him from behind the fridge door.

 

That afternoon, Trevor returned home from work as quickly as he could and looked up and down the street to make sure he wasn’t being watched. His wife could have spies anywhere. Everything seemed clear, the only thing in the street being an empty, white sedan parked across the road. Carefully he unlocked the front door and slipped inside, drawing all the blinds in the front rooms of the house. He estimated that he had roughly three hours before his wife returned. With that much time, he decided that he’d delay things a little but by putting on some porn and getting himself warmed up. He’d then stick the ham in the oven once he was fully ready to go and warm it up a little for what he hoped would be an experience almost as good as sex.

 

An hour later, Trevor found himself waking up suddenly from a powernap. He’d fallen asleep in front of the laptop, the once-entertaining porn having made him drowsy after a hard day’s work. His penis hung limp out the teeth of his fly. His heart jumped to his throat. Did he still have time to carry out his master plan? He looked at his watch. He had maybe an hour before his wife got home. Quickly he got up and flung open the over door, chucking the ham in soon after at one fifty Celsius. It should be warm enough in about ten minutes. Still a little panicky from the shock of waking though, Trevor couldn’t help but do a final check of the street. Peeking through the blinds in the living room, the coast was still clear.

 

Once the timer went off on the oven, Trevor couldn’t wait any longer. It had been way to long since he’d felt the joy of an orgasm. Flinging off his clothes, he grabbed the ham out of the oven and carved the closest thing he could to a vagina. Inserting himself, he stifled a moan. Somewhere in the distance there was a loud crack, but the pleasure was just too real. Before he knew it he was facing his wife, the sweating ham the only thing covering what was left of his dignity.

 

Trevor and Stacey now attend regular marriage counselling. Things should be fine between them from now on, their counsellor advises, so long as Stacey makes an effort to understand her husband’s needs, and as long as Trevor can refrain from having sex with dinner.