I could see why. With Libby at age 39, women in their 30s and 40s wanted to be like her, and younger women and girls wanted to be like her when they were older. Older women wanted to recapture their looks and figures of younger years. For men of her own age and older she was hot, and for younger guys she was the ultimate cougar. She boasted a number of celebrity clients, and their endorsement of her training methods, diet and lifestyle added to her star status. Libby had authored two best-selling books and was working on a third, the money pouring in from book sales, product endorsements, sponsorships and the family gyms boosted Libby’s personal wealth well into the millions of dollars.
Of course, Libby was a very busy girl and needed an assistant, and this was how Todd came into the picture. I had no objection to my wife having a hunky young male personal assistant, but when I first met Todd I found myself hoping he was one of those good looking guys who to the disappointment of girls whose knickers got damp whenever he was around turned out to be gay. Todd however clearly wasn’t a homosexual, otherwise he would have stayed out of my wife’s panties, which most definitely turned wet from a bodily fluid other than urine, period blood or sweat when she was around Todd. And my wife shouldn’t be letting any guy other than me get into her panties in any case.
I picked up my phone and looked at the unwelcome picture of the unwelcome third party who had come into our marriage in recent years. On 26th April Libby had posted a message on social media wishing Todd a happy 23rd birthday, saying it would have been her late great-grandmother’s 123rd birthday.
This of course meant Todd was born on 26th April 1992. By chance I remembered what I did that day, which was a Sunday. I was aged 16 back then and it was a long weekend for Anzac Day. With a group of friends from high school we caught the train to Geelong, where we had lunch and looked around the city and walked around the foreshore, then went to an Australian Rules football game where my team the Lions were thrashed by the Cats at Kardinia Park, before catching the train back to Melbourne.
Libby, also aged 16 at the time also remembered what she did that day in April 1992, given that it was her great-grandmother’s 100th birthday, and the family had a big party for the elderly lady and presented her with a telegram from the Queen congratulating her on her centenary.
So the guy getting into my wife’s knickers and turning me into a cuckold was born when Libby and I were in our mid-teens. In many ways this was worse than if Libby was playing around with a guy our own age. Libby was actually old enough to be Todd’s mother. Well, medically old enough, but if Todd was Libby’s son then the act resulting in the arrival of Todd nine months later would have to have taken place when she was aged 15. And of course, 15 gets you 20 in Australia so the father would have been in big trouble with the police and law courts.
I thought about what Todd and Libby had been doing in the hotel room in the city in the morning while continuing to sniff the cunt stains on my wife’s knickers, before returning her dirty panties to the clothes hamper where they belonged and going into my study. The home office on the ground floor of our house was Libby’s office, and one of the upstairs bedrooms was my office.
Since 2012, I had changed from being a high school teacher to a different job writing curriculum for the Education Department. Most days I worked from home, only heading into the office once, sometimes twice a week for reviews and meetings. I started my computer and tried to set to work, but the only thing I could think about was Todd.
I kept thinking about how Todd started kindergarten the year Libby and I commenced in our careers as high school teachers. He could have been one of my students in social studies at high school in the late 2000s. As recently as 2010 he would have been a VCE student. Now he was my wife’s personal assistant and humping her arse off any chance they got.
Again, I brought up an image of Todd on my phone, obsessing over the fit, handsome young man. Given he was the assistant of a beautiful, glamorous and famous woman he fawned all over her, practically bowing down to her and kissing her feet. He did just this with Libby when they were having sex, and Libby and I had also engaged in some foot fetishism during the increasingly limited times she made herself available to me. Todd was a sycophant and a simp, no wait a minute. He was without doubt a sycophant, if Libby asked Todd to jump he would ask her how high. But simps by definition don’t get into the pants of women they suck up to, whereas Todd’s cock had been up Libby’s cunt more times than I cared to even imagine.
In many ways Todd was the male equivalent of a mistress, however there was no real male equivalent to a mistress kept on the side by a married man. I guess toy boy was the most appropriate description, given Libby was 16 years older than her younger male lover.
With toy boy Todd there to assist Libby on the work front, she needed somebody to assist her on the home front. What better than a house husband who worked from home? When I was still teaching Libby and I had tried a cleaner, but Libby had personality clashes with each of the three we tried, so this was abandoned.