My Wife, Butch, and ME

For the first time I heard the story straight from the horse's mouth about how he'd raved and raised hell when he caught his wife with her lover. He'd kicked her out with a few hundred dollars and her clothes; he'd put her on a bus without listening to anything she had to say, just watched the bus carry her away. The tears were rolling down his cheeks when he told me the last picture he had in his mind of her, was that of her crying face pressed against the window, her hand waving a feeble goodbye, before he'd turned and walked away.

"Bo," he'd said in parting. "Eben dou I caugt dat asshole later n he ain't ben seed atter dat, it ain't made up fo de loss. I tought bout dat woman eber day since, an I kick ma ass eber time. Now git off yo ass n win dat gal bak."

I must admit I didn't get the advice I expected, but I think I left Georgia a much wiser man. Unk was right, why should I act like a pussy and just give Susan to that SOB? She's loved me enough to marry me at one time; I sure as hell wasn't going to give up without a fight.

The first order of business was finding out just why Susan would even consider screwing another man.

During the two hour drive back home, I kept asking myself, "Just what had I done wrong?" I realized was far from the perfect husband, but was I really that bad? Okay, maybe I didn't help as much as I could around the house, and yeah, I did complain when she wanted me to watch a chick flick with her, but was that so bad? Maybe it was the way I always tried to get out of going to weddings, or how I always wanted to eat at the Cracker Barrel every time we went out.

Before we started dating, she went dancing every Friday night at the American Legion Hut, and I couldn't dance at all. She'd talked me into taking her a few nights, but I got jealous when other guys looked like they were trying to fuck her right out there on the floor. I never really said anything; however after a few nights of me just watching, and her joining me at the table while others had all the fun, she finally suggested we do something else on Friday nights.

The other major suspect in cases like this was sexual problems. Now I always thought we had a pretty good sex life, even before she started her Monday/Thursday night 'fuckathon' we been getting it on twice a week, usually. I'd read someplace that was actually better than average for couples our age. The next question to hit my mind—the age old question haunting every man since Adam—was she faking it?

I would have bet the farm that she wasn't. So what the hell was the matter? Why wasn't my love enough for her? Could I do anything about it? Damn right I could—at least I could try. By the time I pulled into my driveway, I was determined to fight for the love of my life. I'd be damned if I'd roll over and play dead while some lousy bastard stole my wife.

Trouble was I had to be careful how I handled things. If I came right out and accused her now, she had two options: Either deny the whole thing and stop seeing him, or tell me to go to hell and continue cheating—at least that's the way I saw it. While the first sounded good, it'd probably result in her resenting me and later, when she felt my guard was down, finding another stud.

I chose instead to use just enough hints to make her wonder what I did know, while I began to change the things about me I thought would help me win her love back; and I'd start right now. Backing out of the drive, I made a dash to the nearest Publics for two T-Bone steaks and all the trimmings. When it was time Susan to get home, I had the potatoes baked, the onions and mushrooms sautéed and waiting, a green salad waiting for us to fill our plates, and the meat was ready to pop on the hot, built in grill we had installed, when we remodeled the kitchen last year.

I met her at the door freshly showered, shaved, smelling of her favorite aftershave, 'Woodlands' and dressed like we were going out. I had heard her car, so I was standing ready, and when the doorknob turned, I pulled it open jut as she pushed. Just as I planned, she literally fell into my arms, and I put everything I had into our first kiss of the night.

"What on earth...?" She was absolutely stunned. "Who are you and what did you do with my husband?" she asked, when I finally released her.

I guided her toward the bedroom; I didn't want her to see the kitchen just yet. At the door I patted her on her behind and said, "Quick now, shower and get into something more comfortable while I throw something together for dinner."

She shook her head, "Just give me a few minutes and I'll be there to cook something eatable."

I had the meat sizzling by the time I heard our bedroom door open again and footsteps in the hall. "Something sure smells good." She said. Right after that Susan walked in the kitchen where I had the dinette table decked out in a white tablecloth, the food arranged on the longest countertop, and the room was awash in candlelight.

"What is this?" She stared at the sight greeting her. "Who did you kill? When are you going to prison? How..." Words seemed to fail her.

I gave her an exaggerated bow. "If Madam will start fixing her plate, her steak will be done shortly."

She stood a few moments, just looking from the food to me. "I didn't think you had it in you," she finally muttered, before starting to fix her salad.

"Why?" she asked after we'd put the food away, and the dishes were in the dishwasher, and we were smooching on the sofa. "What have you been up to, that you felt it necessary to get on my good side?"

"Can't a guy show his sexy wife he loves her without having done something wrong?" I tried to put on my best 'rejected little boy' look.

Later I led her to our bedroom, leaving a trail of discarded clothes marking our progress.

"Whoops! Let's not forget tradition." I scooped her up to carry her naked body across the threshold.

"Silly, this isn't our honeymoon and I'm not a new bride." She might have been protesting; I'm not sure; it was hard to tell with all the giggling and leg kicking she was doing.

I almost lost it when I stretched her out on our bed. She was still the most beautiful woman I knew, and as I looked into her eyes and thought about why we were at this point, I felt tears running down my cheek.

"You crying, Honey?"

"Maybe—but they're tears of joy. It's been a long time since we made love on a Friday night—too long." I didn't miss the concerned look that flashed across her face; apparently she'd just realized it was her night to be with the 'girls'. I guess I'd really shocked her when she first arrived home. Now she was torn about what to do—stay with me or run to her lover. When she pulled my mouth to her breast, I knew she had made her decision, if only for this night.

That was the end of the talking, well maybe there was some moaning—no, correct that, there was a lot of moaning. I started kissing the her nipples, worked my way to the top of her head, and then reversed my path back to the nipples and on to her labia, with a stop at her bellybutton. She really liked my probing tongue there almost as much as when I carefully parted her curly hair and started probing the inside of her moist lips. Finally, I teased her little clit from its hiding place, and she started thrashing about and begging to quit teasing and put it in.

I finally knelt between her widespread legs, and she bent her knees, offering my hard shaft its target. When my purple crown touched her slick labia, I tried to take it easy with her, like I usually do. She surprised me by locking her legs around my back and giving a mighty thrust, she took me in all the way. Remembering her cheating, I threw tenderness to the wind, and drove my seven inches into her as hard and fast as I could.

"Yessss" she screamed. "Give it to me, Honey." She was meeting me stroke for stroke. "That's the way I like it" she muttered into my ear while her nails raked cross my back.

It was one of the strangest sessions we'd ever experienced. We were simply two animals rutting; each taking their pleasure with no regard for their mate. Different, yes—would I like it to become our regular routine, definitely not; but at this moment it was great. Strange thing is, she seemed to like rough sex too, something I'd never dreamed of.

I felt like superman, like my cock was made of steel; we'd been pumping away for god knows how long, Susan had appeared to have orgasm after orgasm, and I still hadn't felt that tingle which precedes my own climax. We were panting like a couple of dogs chasing a cat on a hot day, sweat was pouring off our bodies, so much so that the sheets were soaked, and still we continued pounding away.

All this time, Susan was moaning and muttering sweet nothings, begging me not to stop. I have to admit, although I'm normally quiet during sex, I realized that I too was keeping up a steady chatter about how good it was and how much I loved her.

Just as she gave one final shudder and lay still, her breath coming like a guard who'd recovered the football on his on ten yard line and managed to stay ahead of the pursuit all the way for a touchdown, I felt the first rumbling that announced my volcano's immediate eruption. I've read stories where the hero brags about shooting quarts of cum, and of course we all know that's a bunch of crap, but I will say I pumped shot after shot into her. The first pulses felt like they were tearing my balls out, but after that things were normal.

I started shrinking; her grip on my shaft, which by the way I'd never felt it being that strong before, relaxed and I slipped out of her. We lay side by side, her head resting on my shoulders, neither of us saying a word, until finally I broke the silence.

"That was heavenly, Susan, and I'll be damned if anyone going to steal you away." Oops! I didn't mean to let that slip this soon. I wanted to put the rest of my plan into action while she still thought I suspected nothing.

"What do you mean—steal me away?" She'd propped up on one elbow and was looking at me strangely.

I sat up, my feet on the floor so that she couldn't see my face. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to hide my feelings right now, not after an event that should have belonged to just the two of us, but I now knew she shared with another man—a man who had no right to her body. Of course the libertines would say she had just given him her body, and that it was hers to do with as she pleased. To that, I say, "bull Shit!" We promised our bodies to each other, and damn it, she had no right to give it to him.

Aloud, I said, "Oh you know, it's just a figure of speech. What I should have said is, love you dearly and I don't want to lose you.

She got up and came around to stand in front of me. Bending, she gently took my face between both hands; she remained in that awkward position for what seemed like forever. Finally, she smiled, kissed my lips, and whispered, "Jack, you never have to worry about losing me. I promise." Grasping my wrist she tugged me upright and started toward the bathroom.

"Time to shower, Stud, you smell like you've been in a French Whore House." she said, pulling me into the shower with her.

"How do you know what a French Whore House smells like?" I asked, stepping under the cascading stream of warm water.

"I read a lot."

"Damn good writer, if he writes so vivid you can smell it." I teased, while soaping her body and scrubbing. She spread her legs to allow me to get the important place. After that, she returned the favor.

We snuggled together, my back to her while her nipples seemed to bore into me. As bad as I needed sleep, it took a while for my mind settled down. How could she possibly be as loving as she was tonight and do what I knew she was doing? It just didn't make sense. For two nights in a row now, she'd fucked me—no that was the wrong word—we'd made love, not just fucked; there was no doubt in my mind about that. Everything was made better because this was Friday night, the night reserved for Lover Boy.

"What're you laughing about?"

"Nothing, I was just thinking, let's go to sleep." I'd bet he was one pissed off camper, I thought as I dropped off to sleep.

Sometimes later I awoke with a start. I thought it must be time to get up, but the red LED's on my bedside clock said I'd only been asleep less than a half hour. I reached a hand over to pat Susan, only to feel sheet; she wasn't there. I rolled out of bed. I could see a dim light coming from the living room and padded down that way; I hadn't bothered to slip on my bedroom shoes.

I heard her talking on the phone before I got there. A phone call—this time of night? Really? I retraced me steps back to the bedroom and lifted that phone as gently as I could. Apparently she didn't hear me because they continued talking.

I heard the middle of Susan's comment. ". . . I know we had a date, Baby, but what could I do? Jack was in the mood."

"I was in the mood also, Suzi Q. Why do I have to be the one to go without?" The guy on the other end of the line sounded like he would break down crying any second.

"I know Baby, but you know we don't want Jack to find out about us."

"I reckon you'll leave me high and dry every time your husband gets in the mood, huh?" His impatience was clearly coming through. "Hubby calls and Susan runs to him. That sure isn't the Susan I knew in high school."

I only knew of one high school sweetheart of Susan's. She confirmed my guess with her next words.

"Butch, I told you when we started seeing each other again, that my husband always came first. If you can't live with that, we just as well break up right now."

"Awwww, Suzi Q, don't you love me any more—don't you like the way I make you feel when we're in bed? Didn't you say I brought you to peaks your husband couldn't?"

"Yes, I did. . ."

Those three little words made me want to throw the phone done and throttle my wife. I'm glad I didn't and that I waited to hear her next words.

". . . but I didn't say I liked how you made me feel better than how Jack does. It's just different; that's all. If I could, I have both of you in my bed every night . . ."

"I'd go for that. Why don't you see what Jack thinks? That way, when he finishes getting what he needs, I could take over."

"You're out of your mind. Jack would never go for that."

"But would you?"

"Well" A long pause ensued, "Maybe it would be nice, two men trying to outdo each other. . . ."

"Why don't you at least ask him?"

"Maybe later, but now isn't the time."

Damn right, I thought, now isn't the time, not before I get to put my plan into action. I didn't want to give Susan an ultimatum—not now. The way I saw it, if I did, she'd breakup with Butchie Boy, but she'd resent me and sure as hell there'd come a day when another stud would 'make her feel what I couldn't' again. No, I wanted my wife back as exclusively mine, but I wanted it to be her idea. Now wasn't the time for a showdown.

I heard Susan hang up so I jumped back in bed and pretended to be sound asleep. I stirred when she crept back into bed, then turned to face her, flinging my arm across her chest, my hand rubbed her breast and then fell away, just like I was sound asleep.

"Sleep well, Honey," she whispered, cuddling up to me again. Soon I heard her gentle snores.

*****

That night marked the beginning of the 'Great Jack Makeover." I'd won her love once and I didn't intend to lose it now. Luckily I owned my business and had very good people working for me, so I could pretty well do what I pleased, up to a point.

I started watching my diet; of course Susan noticed that right off. "Just getting back in shape for my Honey," I teased, "Can't have some old boyfriend or any other stud steel my baby away, can I?" I'd didn't miss her clouded look, at those words. I fully intended to keep her off balance every chance I had. I also joined a gym, noticed what books she was reading and read them too. I made sure we went to more movies, always selecting the 'chick flicks' and making sure to take her out to dinner either before or after the show. We even went to an opera, over in Savannah.

Two other actions I took required help. As I said, I had some really good employees. Louise, a woman with a very trusting husband named Joe, was one of the best. She had once worked as a dance instructor at "Arthur Murry dance Studios" and was glad to pick up a few extra bucks. Every night Susan 'worked late' or had a 'girls night out' I had a dance lesson from Louise. Before any dirty minds get the wrong idea, Joe was always in the next room, watching TV or standing in the door, laughing his ass off at my feeble efforts. When I got too bad, he'd cut in and demonstrate how it should be done.

It was a slow effort, but having at least three hours and maybe four each week, except when just for the hell of it, I'd pull Susan to the bed as she was dressing for 'girl's night out' and fuck her until the wee hours of the morning. Now I know some will question how a fellow my age could perform so much, but the answer is simple. My workouts and losing weight helped a lot, and what that didn't take care of, just remember the old slogan, "Better Living Through Chemistry." Even before the 'little blue pills' hit the market, if you had the right connections, and I did, a Druggist could supply some wonderful medicine. I did my best to keep Susan too satisfied to really get into the swing of things with Lover Boy.

I'm sorry to say I wasn't completely successful. There were still the 'Tuesday night late work' and the Friday night out with 'the girl' but I managed to screw them up a few times. I have to give Susan credit; she never turned me down when I tried to kick things off. She really only initiated things on Monday and Thursday nights, but when I think about it, I kept her so busy the other nights she didn't have an opportunity.

I introduced Susan to cheating wives stories, on Literotica, and we often read them to each other. I confess to having to shake my head in wonder at the way she seemed to completely compartmentalize her life. We'd talk about how some men would encourage their wife to cheat while others wanted to kill over infidelity. I would always state in no uncertain terms I would not be a willing cuckold.

It was like she was two different people. She could talk about people screwing around without giving any sign she was doing the very same thing. As for me, I still thought the sun rose and set in Susan, and while I can't explain it, as long as I could tell myself I was doing something to win her exclusive love back, I put up with her getting a little on the side. I refused to screw up my chances by acting too soon. I guess I was becoming a two-faced son-of-a- bitch too.

I still believed the only way to keep her was for her to make the decision. If I forced the call, she might choose me, but I'd never be able to completely trust her. I guess I was living my advice to my son—that the only way to keep a wild animal as a pet was to let them go. If they returned to you, you could consider them yours. I felt I could pull it off as long as the knowledge of her cheating wasn't public

That crap worked for several more weeks, until one Wednesday morning when she bounced into the kitchen where I was just serving up pancakes and sausages. All bright eyed and bushy tailed, she laid a loving on me like it was my last day on earth.

"Guess what, Honey!" I hadn't seen her that happy in ages. "Guess who's getting a free trip to Honolulu?" I must admit I as happy for her, of course, fool that I was, I took the news at face value.

"You're joking—when?" Susan had wanted us to take a trip to Hawaii for the longest time, but we just never seemed to have the time and money at the same time. "Tell me about it!"

"We have a two day conference Thursday and Friday of next week; but that's not the best news—the company says it's okay for me to stay over the weekend and fly back Monday night. Isn't that great!!"