Upstairs Downstairs Ch. 01

Upstairs Downstairs

Part 1 of 2

"Fuck me, harder. That's it baby, my god you feel so good."

These are the words that I hear from my wife as I sit downstairs jacking off while listening to her. I can't believe how turned on I've been over the last two weeks since she started bringing Shawn home, listening to her getting the fucking of her life.

The weirdest part is not just how much it makes me cum when I listen to her, but that I've never heard anything so erotic in all my life as right now, hearing the sighs and heavy breaths escaping her lips, the words of encouragement to her lover, then the inevitable orgasms that consume her. As she begins to cum again, I shoot my load all over my tiled back patio, feeling like I might almost black out in the process.

I hate the feeling I have right now after I'm done, with strong feelings of guilt and more than a bit of shame. I know I have no real reason to be feeling these emotions, but I do. What I'm struggling with though, is why the fuck am I enjoying this so much?

Before you think that I've got a cheating slut of a wife, I don't. It's not like that. In fact, this entire predicament is probably mostly on me. It's currently summer in the year of 2011 in Buffalo, New York. My name is Dave Thomas, I'm a 27-year-old financial funds manager, or at least I was. Let me explain.

I'm a 5'11 fit looking white guy with light brown hair and a decent build, although I wouldn't call myself muscular or buff, just in shape. I got married to my longtime girlfriend Marianne just after I finished college, I was also newly employed at a financial funds management firm here in Buffalo, New York. Marianne also graduated college and landed a job as an accountant for a large firm in downtown Buffalo a year later. Everything was looking good for us; we were enjoying life and each other.

Six months later we decided to take the plunge and buy a house. It was a massive step for us, especially since we had very little cash in the bank at the time. We found this beautiful split-level home in the suburbs, and we decided to buy it. I say we, but it was mainly me pushing for it. Marianne was cautious about us getting into so much debt so early, especially as we got the loan without using a deposit.

My famous last words to her were that it was going to be fine, that house prices were going to continue to rise throughout the rest of 2008 and beyond.

Yeah, that didn't go so well. After the financial crash in mid to late 2008, house prices plummeted as people lost their jobs and defaulted on their loans. I was one of those to lose my well-paid job, and we struggled to make payments on a house that was now worth way less than the loan we were repaying. I also struggled to find any job in the finance sector, and had to settle for working two jobs, one as a courier driver during the day and the other as a bartender on Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights to try and help make ends meet. Thankfully, Marianne was doing well in her job and had even been recently promoted.

To make things worse, we couldn't walk away from the house like so many others did as I didn't take the higher interest rates on the mortgage to include that option, our only option would've been to sell the house. We would still then owe a heap of money after it sold for way less than we bought it for unless we then claimed bankruptcy too, which was not an option for us. No, we decided we were going to stick it out, we loved the house, and we would need somewhere to live anyway.

But to say that the financial mess we found ourselves in due to my miscalculations of the market made it hard on our relationship is a bit of an understatement. Somehow though, we struggled on through to the end of 2009, but by early 2010 the stress was starting to take its toll.

We found ourselves arguing a lot, and our sex life had gone from good to bad. A big part of the issue was me, if I'm being honest. The guilt I felt for putting us in this position, then losing my job and my career, I felt like I was letting my wife down. Not only did I have house payments to make, but I was still paying off my college loan debt as well. College for a career I could no longer get a job doing, in Buffalo anyway. I was depressed, I felt ashamed and like a complete failure, I was blaming myself but somehow that eventually manifested in me arguing with Marianne more often than not.

Not that my wife was completely faultless in my eyes either, perhaps she should've understood better what I was going through, even if she was going through it with me. I don't know, but we were soon at a breaking point. The hardest part was that deep down I knew I still loved her and felt that she still loved me too. But being in our mid-twenties, neither of us were very good at expressing that. By the summer of 2010 we decided to split, as our marriage was no longer working, and we needed some time and space from each other.

But how exactly could we break up? Neither of us could afford to move out and still make house payments. Also, neither of us wanted to sell the house and take a massive loss on the price we paid. Instead, we decided on the only good option open to us, we would both stay in the house, but I would move downstairs and live in the third bedroom while Marianne stayed upstairs in our main bedroom.

This option seemed to tick all the boxes; downstairs had a games room with the second bathroom along with the third bedroom. I turned the large games room into my living room, while Marianne used the regular living room in the main part of the house. Our house actually has three levels, the main level has the garage, entrance, kitchen, laundry and living room. On the right-hand side of the main level off the living room, the house splits into a T-shaped upstairs/downstairs arrangement as the land slopes away on that side of the house.

We have half stairs from the main level that go upstairs to the main bathroom, second bedroom and the master bedroom, which faces the back of the house with a small balcony overlooking the backyard. The other half stairs go down to the second bathroom, games room and third bedroom which faces out to a small, covered patio under the upstairs balcony. So, my new bedroom is now directly below the bedroom I used to share with my wife.

Marianne uses our car to go to work while I catch the buses, I didn't want her waiting for buses at night in the city or walking the block or so home in the dark. We would often find ourselves together in the kitchen in the mornings or after work, making our own coffee or meals. We were seemingly getting along a lot better once you take sharing the same bedroom with sex and forced intimacy out of the equation. I know that sounds strange, but we tend to argue a lot less now, dare I say that we are happier right now just being good friends rather than husband and wife.

When we both agreed on our separation, I pointed out that with our arrangement it might become difficult if one of us started dating someone new. This seemed to take Marianne back a little, I don't think she'd given any thought to either of us being with someone else, just that we needed a break from each other. She agreed though that we'd have to both be discreet if it happened. That we wouldn't often have other people staying overnight and they definitely wouldn't be living in the house. That we'd be conscience of the other's feelings.

I guess both of us thought that there's still a chance that we might get back together as husband and wife, and we didn't want to do anything that might jeopardize that in the long term.

I was the first to bring someone home, about three months into our separation. By this point it had been well over six months since I'd had sex with Marianne, and I was getting desperate for some relief. One of the perks of working as a bartender is that you become a viable option for women out drinking who are looking to hook-up. Her name was Cynthia I think, or Sylvia. Anyway, I brought her home at the end of my shift on a Friday night, after 3am. The sex was pretty forgettable, she was a little too drunk and I was a little too tired. I sent her home in a cab before Marianne was up and about in the morning.

About a month later I brought home another woman named Tasha, again meeting her at the bar I worked at. She was a real little firecracker, I enjoyed sex with her way more than the previous girl, and she was noisy in bed too. At first, I wanted her to keep the noise down, so as not to upset my wife sleeping upstairs. But as we got into it, I soon forgot all about Marianne as I enjoyed fucking the hell out of pretty little Tasha.

Marianne didn't say anything about how noisy we were when I spoke to her in the kitchen the next day, she acted like nothing had happened. I did wonder if she was just putting on a brave face, trying to not let me know if it annoyed her that I was enjoying fucking someone else.

Tasha came back for a good number of encore performances over the next two months, but then she stopped showing up at my bar and we lost touch. Over the Christmas period I met a sexy woman named Beverly Tate. She's a year younger than Marianne at twenty-four and had just begun working as a waitress at the bar with me. She's working to pay off her student debt like me, and like me was struggling to get a job in the career of her choice.

In many ways, Beverly reminded me of Marianne, they even looked very similar. Both stand at about 5"5 with light brown hair and hazel eyes. Beverly is slightly thinner than Marianne as she likes to jog a lot, she has a cute ass and nice b-cup breasts.

Marianne is still fit though, just more toned and not quite as skinny as Beverly. Marianne also has bigger breasts, sporting full c-cups and a slightly rounder ass that I think looks fantastic too. I also think that Marianne is a little prettier in her face as well, but no one could ever deny the similarities in their appearance.

Unlike the other women, I didn't bring Beverly home on our first 'date'. Instead, we went out for a meal and then to the movies together on a Tuesday night when neither of us were working at the bar. I got along really well with her, and over the next three months we spent at least two nights out together a week and would usually end the night back at her place. Beverly wasn't that comfortable about going to my place however, the idea of having sex with a guy while his wife sleeps in the bedroom directly above us was something she wasn't happy to do very often.

I could tell that my relationship with Beverly grew progressively stronger over those three months we'd been together, and that she'd soon want more from me as well. The problem was that I still needed to make my house payments as well as my student debt, so I couldn't afford to move in with her and she knew it. Beverly soon came to the conclusion that it wasn't going to work for us while I was still living with and financially tied to my wife, so she finally ended our relationship at the end of March.

I felt depressed all over again, but not anywhere near the depths I'd previously been after losing my career and letting my wife down. This time I knew I'd get through it just fine; it'd just take a few weeks for me to bounce back.

As for Marianne, she hadn't slept with anyone since our separation over ten months ago now as far as I could tell. She didn't seem to go out much either, just occasionally going out with her friends, but more often than not she would have them over to watch a movie or for dinner. Going to the gym after work a few times each week was her only other outlet away from the house. I wasn't sure how my relationships with first Tasha, and then Beverly might have affected her, if they did, she tried hard not to show it.

As the weather started to warm up again, I again took solace in the occasional late-night hook-up from the bar, although these were mainly just one-night stands now. My courier job was starting to get to me as well, I didn't enjoy it very much and it didn't pay very well for the amount of time I spent doing it. I kept applying for jobs in finance but as time passes, my experience is further and further behind me now, which makes it even more difficult.

As summer started to roll around, Marianne finally decided it was time she got off the bench and decided to take to the field as it were. She did that in the form of her gym's co-owner Shawn Johnson, a thirty-two-year-old black Adonis. I never even knew that Marianne liked black guys, but I was hardly in a position to tell her who she should or shouldn't be dating after I've been bringing home numerous women over the last year.

I guess finally seeing my wife with someone other than me, and someone physically in better shape as well was a little jarring to be honest. I don't know if I was expecting that Marianne would stay celibate while I had my fun, but those times were clearly behind us now. Now it was her turn for some fun and I'd have to deal with it.

The first time I saw Marianne with Shawn, they were sitting in the main living room chatting and watching a TV show when I got home from my courier job. Nothing too romantic seemed to be happening as I said hello before making my way downstairs to take a shower. I wasn't working at the bar that night as it was a Wednesday, so after my shower I relaxed in my downstairs living room to watch a show of my own.

An hour or two later I heard them talking at the front door before he left, with Marianne then retiring upstairs. On Friday when I got home, he was over again. I quickly had a shower before heading out the door to the bar to begin my second shift. So, I had no idea if he was staying over, if they were getting more romantically involved, I really don't know.

By the time I got home at almost 5am, the house was dark and quiet, and his car was no longer parked out front. I didn't think much about it until late Sunday afternoon when he was over again. Three times now within a week, there must be something going on between them, surely. Marianne and Shawn were upstairs cooking themselves dinner when I crashed out on the couch downstairs, I was spent after having worked until almost 5am on both Friday and Saturday nights and then spending the best part of Sunday afternoon drinking with my best friend Gary.

When I awoke, my TV had turned itself off, and the house was silent, with no noise being heard from upstairs. I looked at my phone for the time, it was almost 11pm in the evening, I did sleep well.

As I stirred, I turned off the lights before I wandered through my bedroom to the sliding door leading out to my little tiled patio, sitting out on a chair I had there. There was a slight breeze in the air, it was a beautiful night to be outside. That's when I heard her for the first time.

I could hear what sounded like a deep sigh from my wife, then another. Then what sounded like her breath being taken away. Yes, it sounded like she was having sex, masturbating maybe. There were no noises coming from her bed, it was just the night's silence being broken by sharp inhalations of breath by Marianne upstairs. I realized her door to her balcony must be open to let in the breeze, it meant that I could hear her clearly from where I sat below.

I then heard her giggle a little before whispering something, that's when I knew she wasn't alone. My wife was in bed with another man, a very large buff looking black guy at that. I then heard her almost squeal followed by a whisper again before a long loud groan escaped her lips. That's when I could hear the bed's headboard begin to knock against the wall.

Shawn is upstairs right now fucking my wife, Marianne.

It took me a moment to gather my thoughts, I knew this day would come, I just didn't think I would be hearing it when it happened. I felt a bit guilty just for listening to them, even though I hadn't intended on doing that when I came and sat outside. Did I feel angry? Regret? Remorse? Or did I feel happy that she was finally moving on? No, I didn't feel any of those things, I just felt a little numb.

That numbness then morphed into the feeling of me being a little confused, she's still my wife after all. I shouldn't be okay with her fucking someone else, should I? But that's exactly what I've been doing for the best part of the last year since we separated, and I'm sure she had to lay upstairs listening to me fuck one of the many women I'd brought home.

No, if I didn't want to hear her having sex, I could go back inside and shut my door, but I didn't. Instead, I sat back and listened, and that's when I realized something that surprised me completely, that hearing my wife's moans and sighs while she's having sex is one of the most erotic sounds I'd ever heard.

I can't remember my cock being so hard, straining to be released as it does right now, not that I was going to whip it out and jack off in the backyard where the neighbors might see me. No, I just leaned back in my chair with my head back, listening to the beautiful sounds escaping my wife's mouth as Shawn started to ramp up his fucking of my wife.

Along with the heavy sighs and moans, she also gave him the occasional words of encouragement as well, words like 'It's so good', 'it's so big', 'fuck me harder', 'oh my god' and "you're going to make me cum' as they continued. After about fifteen minutes of this, they still weren't relenting, I could tell that they had changed positions a few times and then got back into some hard and heated fucking. At that point, I really needed my own release, this was getting too much.

I stepped back inside my bedroom pulling the security door almost all the way closed. All the lights were out downstairs so nobody would be able to see me now as I released my belt buckle and dropped my pants to the floor. It didn't take me long, the next time I heard Marianne cumming, I shot my load across the patio tiles. My god did I need that.

After I cleaned up my mess and changed into my boxers, I could still clearly hear them fucking upstairs. I laid down on my own bed, looking up to the ceiling where just above Marianne was still getting what sounded like the fucking of her life. I felt ashamed for having jacked off listening to her fuck, but the worst part was that I was already hard again.

It's now been almost thirty minutes since they started and they're still going strong. I'm trying my best to not jack off for a second time, my own feeling of shame having reared its ugly head. But what was I to be ashamed of? We've been separated for almost a year now even if we still don't have any plans to divorce yet. And as far as the courts are concerned, we're still happily married, not having made our separation official whatsoever.

Add to that the number of women I've slept with over the last year, who was I to begrudge Marianne finally getting her fun too. She's always sounded sexy to me whenever we used to fuck, but laying back on my bed and being able to focus on just listening to her while she's having sex is a whole other dimension. The weirdest thought crossed my mind, that I wanted her right now more than I have in ages. I tried to shake that off as being a little crazy, but yet there it was.

Without thinking, I'd pulled open my boxers and began masturbating for a second time. As I could hear Marianne nearing yet another climax, I came hard once more. My god, I can't explain why listening to her enjoying sex is having such an effect on me. As I lay here, they finally finished, I could hear Shawn grunt loudly for the first time as he no doubt came on or in my wife.

I quickly dozed off to sleep, spent after having ejaculated hard twice.

I got up early on Monday morning, having a shower before heading up to the kitchen to have a coffee before leaving to do my courier gig. I noticed that Shawn's car wasn't parked out front, he must have left after they were done last night. Halfway through making my coffee, Marianne came bounding downstairs and entered the kitchen too.