I just read through the relevant parts of this thread. You guys gave me great advice. It was EXACTLY what we needed to do and pretty much spot on with what my counselor is encouraging.
THANK YOU.
It couldn't get through to me at the time. Its embarrassing to read my defenses to phantom attacks. Thank you for continuing to try.
I haven’t been able to face or speak to Harry yet and I’m not going to push that, but I’ve talked to Sally on the phone several times. Sally’s sister is so active in the lifestyle she has a nickname. She is headmaster and host to sex parties under her pseudonym. It turns out Harry and Sally were inspired by her but had never been with another couple before, only another man. They don’t have the internet so I doubt they read the codes conscientious swingers live by regarding unprepared couples. I’m still not happy with them as Sally said they’d talked about it for months before actually going through with it, a benefit their lust was unable to grant my wife and I. Nonetheless, they were simply drunk and overexcited about their first real “swing.” I’m pretty certain they hadn’t talked about the ramifications their lifestyle might have on the couples they “have.”
I'm going to copy and paste a bit from something I wrote earlier below. Details of what lead to our current healing process.
---
We surmised that we’d been taken advantage of, that Harry and Sally meticulously rolled out a plan to get their rocks off and we had been their victims. The therapist we saw latched onto this. My wife had been raped in front of me, she said, and I recognized it, hence my terror and trauma and flashbacks. Not only that, but Harry targeted my wife because I was a sensitive and trusting man; because he could, “Do anything he wanted to her and knew you wouldn’t stop him.” I went home devastated. My wife was positively chipper and I was cramping her style. My prying and desperate attempts to reconnect climaxed with her shouting, finger pointed at me in rage, “I GOT RAPED AND YOU JUST SAT THERE AND FUCKING WATCHED!!” I smashed a lounge chair we had on our porch and threw it out into the road. It was one of two lounges we got on our wedding day. It broke my heart to return to the porch and see only one chair. I wanted so much to undo what I’d done to the chair, we loved sitting in these chairs together on the porch. I ruined it. And her. Because I didn’t just sit there and watch, I facilitated and encouraged the whole thing.
We saw a second doctor the next day, a real psychologist this time. He spent 25 minutes on my wife's rape before he brought up psychosexual trauma and flashbacks, at which point she directed his attention to me and I broke down. The next morning my wife said it wasn’t rape because, “When it was hot, it was hot.” and raised the question of a threesome with her and another woman. I put a shotgun in my mouth the next morning. My brain had never been so split in two. I honestly believed my wife had been raped and I sat back and watched, and that my wife had been unfaithful and dishonest. Both things at once, whole heartedly. There was pain coming from too many directions for me to know how to fight it or stop it. I got an emergency counseling session. The counselor assured me I wasn’t crazy and encouraged me to talk with my wife about what happened, that there was truth to be found; that there were differences between us that would answer the question of why the night had gone the way it did. It didn’t take long.
My wife admitted she was interested in Harry beforehand. She noticed him noticing her the last time we got together and played cards. The night of the foursome he’d asked for permission to enter her in a whisper, she granted it to him. I wanted to leave her then and there but I couldn’t. She was crying so hard, she said she didn’t know how much her deception was hurting me. She didn’t know what she was doing. That night I got out the shotgun, my counselor told me to get it out of the house. I emptied it, the shells popped out on the bed we’d moved into the living room for me. It spooked my wife. I thought I was okay but I laid on the couch and my wife couldn’t find me. She was blurry and I was more catatonic than I’ve ever been in my life. She was holding my face and trying to get a better angle. She started crying. “Where are you!? Where are you?! You look like an old person! DID YOU TAKE THAT BOTTLE OF ZOLOFT!?!” I didn’t. She called my name a few times then took me to my parent’s house. The next morning I told her to leave, I didn’t care where. She went to my sister’s house. I told my parents what happened. They were hurt. I went to my sisters. My wife wasn’t willing to let go of her defensiveness. The defensiveness that led me to believe I was instrumental in her rape, the defensiveness that almost killed me. But I think I drove her to it.
---
Also, many won't believe it, but I never did what I said I did in high school and college. I thought maybe claiming I did would make people relate and come forward or recognize themselves. I'm actually a very sensitive and considerate man. I despised people who did that stuff.