My Wife, Butch, and ME

I really wanted to listen to my white devil, but the red devil made some good points. I fell asleep that night vowing to look around, but by morning, when Susan kissed me bye and danced out the door in such a good mood, I just couldn't imagine any problems for us. In hindsight, I guess the old saying about love being blind is true. No man wants to think his wife might be up to no good; at least I know I didn't.

My happy home life made it intact for two more weeks after that. I had pushed all doubts to the back of my mind and just went with the flow. Monday and Thursday nights were still sex night for us, and every weekend was our time. Susan seemed to go out of her way to plan something I liked, and sex was always on the menu. It was like Susan's mission was to kill me, and she decided to do it my screwing me to death.

And then the screw tightened a few more turns. It was Tuesday, Susan was supposed to be working late, and I didn't really want a cold cut sandwich for supper, so I decided to pick up some Chinese food. I think I could eat my weight in shrimp fried rice. As I stood in line at the Empire Restaurant, I heard my name called.

"Oh hi, Joan," I turned to see one of Susan's co-workers standing two places back. "Sorry, I didn't see you come in. I see you lucked out tonight."

"Lucked out? What do you mean?"

"Don't you have to work late on Tuesdays?"

"Late?" Joan seemed puzzled. "We haven't worked late in months."

Before I could question her further, the clerk called for my order and by the time I finished with him, Joan was deep in conversation with another fellow, so I left with my mind abuzz. How could she not know about Susan having to work late? She had been doing it almost every week, starting right after our anniversary.

I'd have probably remained willfully dumb, if not for what happened on the way home. The Chinese place was out by the interstate, all the way across town from the place Susan works. I was waiting to pull back on the road, when my headlights lit up the car passing in front of me. I didn't get a really good look but damn if the woman on the passenger side didn't look an awful lot like Susan, and they were headed down toward, what we call, "Motel Mile."

Well, I wanted a closer look; but I had to wait on a string of traffic. Finally I got a chance to pull onto the road. Knowing I was way behind my prey, I juiced it; but before I'd gotten a hundred yards down the road, blue lights were flashing behind me, and a very unhappy looking cop was standing beside my window.

"What did I do, Officer?" When you're dealing with a cop always, always be polite.

"May I see your driver's license, sir?"

I'm a firm believer in respecting the law; there have been far too many reports of confrontations after traffic stops. I knew this cop that stopped me; knew he had a chip on his shoulder fully equal to the chip carried by some white cops, so you better believe everything out of my mouth was preceded by, "Yes Sir, or No Sir." I gave absolutely no reason to take offence and he didn't. When he saw I was respectful, he acted likewise, but he also didn't get in a hurry. Looking back at it, I would probably do the same were our roles reversed and I had nothing to do until my shift ended.

After what seemed like hours, but my watch, which I kept glancing at, thought it was only fifteen minutes, he finally he tore off a ticket. Handing it to me, he said. "Be careful now Sir." He walked back to his cruiser and I headed down toward the motels hoping maybe I could catch a glimpse of the car I thought Susan was in.

I rode through every parking lot, but had no luck. Finally I gave it up as a bad cause and returned home. I noticed the only light was in the foyer and our bedroom.

"Hey, Honey!" Susan's voice greeted me. "Where you been? I've been waiting to get ahold of my baby," She caught me in a bear hug and planted kisses all over my face. I was so shocked at seeing her here at home I guess I just stood there for a few moments.

'How the hell did she beat me here.' I thought. 'Maybe it wasn't her that I saw. There's no way they could have checked into a motel, much less do anything, and get back across town to pick up her car and then beat me here. Apparently I was mistaken.'

"Just out to pick up some Chinese." I held out the bags. "Shrimp fried rice—want some?"

"If you're sure you got enough. I didn't take time to stop to eat; I was in too big a hurry to get home to my baby."

We locked into a kissy-mouth session. Man was she hot! I worked my hands under the hem of her dress, lifting it to allow me to grasp her firm buns. After a bit of this playing around, I tried to get my hand on her pussy, but she twisted away claiming she was dirty and needed to wash.

"Not before we eat." I got down two plates and began dividing the food. She seemed happy as she busied about, setting two places. For my part, I wondered why she thought she needed to wash before I touched her; after all, how many times have I licked all over her labia, even after we'd just finished a round of hot sex. I guess the soaked panties, I did manage to feel before she twisted away, had something to do with my unease. I vowed to investigate further before she jumped in that shower.

I made sure I finished before Susan so, when she took her last bite, I grabbed her hand and was pulling her toward our bedroom.

"Wait, Jack. I really need to wash up. You don't want me all smelly from a day's work."

"Honey, it's just you—your aroma—the woman I love more than life itself. I don't care what you smell like, I need you now." I continued pulling her along toward the bedroom.

To be truthful by then I was thinking I'd been wrong about the woman in the car, but that didn't mean she couldn't have been doing the dirty someplace else. Given her reluctance to allow me to feel her up, coupled with Joan's remark about the overtime, I was pretty sure I'd find her full of cum.

Joking and trying to keep things as playful as I could, I continued to work on every trigger point I knew she had. My efforts were rewarded; her protest diminished until finally, with a groan that sounded like, "What the fuck?" she fell back on the bed, her arms reaching for me.

"Come on, Big Man. You asked for it—it's yours." She pulled her knees up and spread them apart as I knelt between them. "Right there," she moaned, guiding my stiff member to its goal.

Normally I work my way in so as not to hurt her, but tonight she was so juicy it sank to the hub with my first shove. That night I'm pretty sure I got her off three times before I could hold off no longer. She may not have had a load of cum in her when we started, but she sure did when we finished. I don't think I've ever felt closer to her than I did as we fell asleep that night. We were naked, cuddled tightly, and sleeping wrapped in the soiled sheets, since neither wanted to get up long enough to change the sheets.

I had the next day off; with nothing to do but hang around, drink coffee, and watch TV, I felt like I was on vacation after Susan left for work. Then I turned the channel and a documentary about cheating wives popped on the screen. I channel surfed, looking for something else, since the cheating wives thing just gave me the heebie-geebies; and yet much like a moth to a flame, I found myself drawn back to it.

The people on the screen were describing the early stages of their breakup and I watched in horror as they ticked off, point by point, almost exactly what I was experiencing: a drastic change in sex habits, wife being mysterious about phone calls, claiming to work late, and then the final nail in the coffin—dressing up fancy for girls night out.

The only thing I didn't see on that show was the wife wanting more sex with the husband. In our case, Susan was more loving to me than she had been in years. Naw—I had to be wrong—Susan wouldn't do that to me—would she? Of course not, not my sweet Susan. Just to prove to myself I wasn't worried I gathered up my fishing gear and went to my friend's fish pond.

That was a waste of time; not one fish nibbled my bait and I couldn't sit still because I kept thinking about that woman in the car last night. I finally gave it up as a lost cause. When I got back home, I was no better; I stomped through the house, roaming from room to room, with a jumble of thoughts running through my mind. Finally I ended up in Susan's sewing room.

Sitting down, on a chest she kept in there, I studied the room. Hanging on one wall was the Sombrero she'd bought during our one trip to Tijuana. Next to it hung a baseball cap with a patch reading "Bite Me Bait and Tackle Shop" from Alaska. I smiled as I remembered the kick Susan got out of that silly thing. She just had to buy one for each of us; mine had long since disappeared, but not Susan's. She kept everything that reminded her of anything.

Bingo! That it! Susan throws nothing away that has any nostalgic meaning at all. Ergo, if she was fooling around the stud would most likely have given her some expensive gift to show her how much more considerate he was than her bum of a husband. If I knew my Susan, she'd have it hidden someplace; all I had to do was find that someplace.

One by one I ticked off the possible places and just as quickly eliminated them. Attic—naw, she never goes up there—too much chance of seeing a mouse. Our bedroom—a possibility, especially in her side of the walk-in closet, or maybe in her chest of drawers—we both had one. Yeah, our bedroom was really big, thanks to us having re-modeled an old house, one built back before the turn of the twentieth century. She dearly loved that old place; so did I. It would break my heart to lose it.

Having one by one considered possible places she'd hide something, my thoughts came back to the room I was in. What better place to put something she didn't want me to see? This was the first time I'd been in here in years, and if I wasn't bored to death, yes, and worried too, I wouldn't be in here now. I arose and poked around, first pulling one drawer open, then peeking in a box or maybe checking a shelf, but I found nothing.

Finally I turned to sit back own; just like that an idea popped into my head; the thing I'd been sitting on was a Cedar Chest—and what did women do with a Cedar Chest? They kept things they didn't want to part with in them.

Okay! Now to look inside, but it became immediately clear that was easier said than done; the damn chest had a lock and naturally it was locked. Now all I had to do was find the key.

Finding the key was a lot easier than I expected. My first thought was to check the cabinet under her cutting table. I didn't have to go that far. Right on the apron of her sewing machine's cabinet was her box containing all kinds of supplies, such as thread, buttons, scissors, and yep—right there on top, as if she'd recently used it, was a key.

My hands were unsteady as I attempted to fit the key in the lock. One turn and I heard a slight click; the chest was opened. I must admit to being nervous lifting the top. What would I find—the end of my life as I knew it, maybe? Still I had to know; the devil you know isn't nearly as bad as the devil you suspect exists but you don't know what shape he takes.

Inside I found a neatly arranged lift out tray. I pulled up a low stool and started my inspection. The first thing I opened was a box like watches come in. "How sweet,' I thought, 'she kept the box from first watch I ever bought her.' Tenderly I lifted the top. I couldn't have been more surprised if a rattlesnake had been inside. I was staring at a watch from our past—the watch Butch, her old boyfriend had given her.

Back when we first married, I'd been extremely jealous. Memories of when I gave her a replacement watch flooded back.

"I've got a perfectly good watch, Jack. Why did you waste money on this one?" She turned my present over and over in her hand before stopping to read the inscription, 'To my loving wife, Susan.'

"You're my wife now, Honey. I know it's silly, but I can't stand the thought of you even owning something another man has given you."

"Silly Man!" She made a big show of removing her old watch and replacing it with my gift. "If it means that much to you, I'll get rid of everything Butch has ever given me."

I saw her drop the watch in a wastebasket along with a pile of letters, all wrapped neatly with a pink ribbon.

"See, all gone." She came to me; her hands started caressing my face before I wrapped her in my arms. "I'm all yours, Jack," she whispered, "For now and forever—yours and only yours." We kissed passionately while grinding our pelvises together. Before we broke apart, as I remember it, my cock was rock hard.

"You believe me, don't you?" she'd asked, while I was stretching her out on the floor.

I was getting hard again, just remembering the way we'd made love and how good it had felt. Of course I'd believed her, but now—right before my eyes was proof I shouldn't have been so quick to believe in Santa Clause. More determined than ever, I continued my search. That's when I found those letters she'd dropped in that trashcan so many years ago.

They were still tied in that pink ribbon, but it looked like it had been tied and retied a few times. My hands shook as I pulled the bow apart. What was Susan thinking when she last tied this bundle of heartbreak I now held in my hands? A quick glance through the stack showed they were all old news. The post mark on each one was from our high school days. I retied the bundle as best I could, and then putting it back in its place I continued my search.

"Hello, what's this?" I thought, lifting a second bundle of letters—this one wrapped in a blue ribbon and the handwriting was Susan's. These were obviously the love letters she'd sent to him back in the day. "What is she doing with them?" I wondered. The letter on top answered my question.

"My dear Susan" it began. He continued to explain how his family would be doing a lot of moving and that he didn't want her letters to get lost in one of the moves. "You please keep them for me until we meet again. I love you Susan, I always have and I always will." He ended with "You're on my mind when I fall asleep every night. Especially I remember that last night down be the lake—the moon, the wine—the blanket—and just my beautiful Susan—naked— in the moonlight."

"Damn!' I thought, 'This guy knows just how to push her buttons.' I was tempted to read more letters, but they were all from before she and I got together and I figured they were none of my business. I knew if I had any old letters from way back then, I didn't by the way, since I'd never received one, I sure wouldn't want her reading them. Besides, I was looking for something current; something that would show if she was cheating or not.

Well, "Seek and you shall find." My preacher used that phrase in several of his sermons, and it surely applied now. The next letter I found, it was partly under some other mementoes, was not from days gone by; this letter had a postmark from shortly after our anniversary.

"My dearest Susan," it began. "I was thrilled when Andy told me about running into you during his Christmas trip. Boy did that bring back memories!" There was a lot of reminiscing about the old days, which I skimmed over, but I sure stopped skimming on the last paragraph.

"I haven't forgotten that vow we made just before my family moved away." These words grabbed my attention. He continued, "I really didn't think we'd meet again, but now that we know we're only one town apart, do you think we can keep our promise to have one last fling, no matter what may have happened in our lives? Yes, I know we're both married, but except for lousy luck I'd have never moved away and today we'd be married to each other. Please give me a call at my office." A phone number was included.

I knew I had some decisions to make. Was I willing to put my kids through the trauma sure to result from divorcing their mother? I know some may say they are adults now—they won't be affected, but I think that's a lot of Bull. When my Uncle Ray and Aunt Martha split, their children were about the age mine are now, and they were devastated. To this day they can't have a loving relationship as attested to by three broken marriages each.

Charlie and Tina weren't my only concern; what about me? Did I want to live without Susan? I didn't have to think twice about that; the answer was a resounding NO! Was I willing to share my wife with another man; my answer at the moment was HELL NO! But then as I thought about life without the woman I love more than life itself, I just couldn't see me going down through the years without having her in my arms.

At least I didn't have to make an immediate decision. As long as Susan didn't know I knew, she won't start assuming I'm okay with it. Trouble was, where would I go from there? Who could I depend on for advice?

I'm a Christian and an active church member, but I wasn't foolish enough to go running to the preacher. My Uncle Ray did that, and by the next Sunday, the news was all over town. That's when it hit me. "Uncle Ray! He'd been through almost the same thing I was going though. I'd talk with him."

That's how I had wound up taking a day off and driving over to Georgia. I found myself sitting on Uncle Ray's porch sipping on a tall glass of iced tea while swinging and watching the carpenter bees do their best to drill holes in the hundred year old heart pine boards, that had made up the porch's ceiling.

"So you see, Unk," I said, after giving him the story as best as I knew it to be true. "I know you had something like this happen to you, so I'm asking for advice. What would you do, if you were in my place?"

If I was expecting a quick answer, I didn't get it. He just sat there, looking out over the corn field, saying nothing. He finished his glass of tea—I finished my glass of tea, we drained another, and he took the pitcher back inside to refill it. Returning to the porch, he poured us both another, turned his old rocking chair, with its sweet grass bottom, especially woven for him, around so we could look each other in the eyes. He still didn't speak right away; I was beginning to wonder if he wasn't going to answer, when I saw a tear roll down his cheek. He pawed it away with the back of his left fist, muttered something about acting like a damn girl, then started talking.

"Tink careful, Bo, Does ya really love hua?" Uncle Ray didn't have much schooling, but he was hell to get the best of in a business deal. "Tink real good, now." He waited for me to answer.

"Yes, I do Unk. I love her more than I've ever loved anybody before. Even now, being pretty sure she's cheating, I still want nothing but the best for her. I want her to be happy—I guess the thing is, I want her to be happy with me."

"Watcha see as yo opshuns?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "Well, I guess I can divorce her, or just pretend nothing is going on—just be her cuckold." He just stared at me and I kept my mouth shut while thoughts raced through my head. "I got a real problem with the cuckold part, Unk."

He chuckled for the first time that day. "Yea, I jus bet yu does." His face changed appearance, became suddenly hard—scary in fact. There was a story going around the family, that back in the old days, he'd beaten a fellow to death that he'd found with his wife. My guess was, I was looking at the last sight that fellow ever saw. I jumped at his next harsh words.

"Den wha the hell ya ain't winning yo woman back? Why ya tink ya gotta sit by lake a puzssy boy and let som otter fuker take ya woman?"

I won't bore you with a word by word of our discussion. Let me sum it up by saying Unk was all over my ass for not fighting to keep Susan's love. He reminded me I had won her love once and now had a lot of years head start on, as he put it, "dis no gud fuker she got da hots fu now."