Shattered

She could see he was listening.

"When we'd seen him a few times, and you started to get angry—finally, thank God—and realize that you weren't to blame one bit? Back then we talked about the difference between fantasy and reality, and how just because you had fantasies about ... about me and other men, didn't mean you ever wanted us to do anything about them in reality.

"Well in my session I suddenly got it—" and now she was crying, feeling as terrible as when it had hit her two days earlier, "—it suddenly hit me that that's exactly what I had done. I was the one that forgot that fantasies aren't for real."

She was sobbing. "God knows you told me, 'I could never stand it if you actually had sex with anyone else, Suzanne'—I just conveniently managed to overlook that. And to go ahead and be a stupid, selfish bitch."

She couldn't say any more, she was crying too hard. She hoped like crazy that Rich would take her into his arms, but he didn't move. She looked at him and his face was sorrowful.

"Yeah, that's about right, I guess," he said finally. "You forgot about fantasy and reality, you forgot what we agreed—you forgot a lot of stuff you should have remembered."

He finally slid over and put his arms around her, letting her cry against his chest. "And now I'm left feeling like I'm not enough for you—like maybe I've NEVER been enough for you. Even though you tell me it isn't true.

"But if it isn't true, then WHY, Suzanne? Why the hell did you do it?"

She didn't have a good answer, and in any case she was crying too hard to say anything.

**********************

It had been a fantastic weekend. They'd driven up to Chicago, stayed in a nice hotel, seen two Reds games at Wrigley Field. Suzanne was bored by baseball but enjoyed going occasionally with Rich, because she liked seeing him having such a good time.

And they went to a musical on Saturday night, and ate a fancy brunch on Sunday before they drove back. And they had sex three times.

No, Suzanne thought—we didn't only have sex, we really made love. It was a fine line, but she was sure of it. We were so close, and it felt so relaxed and loving. The first time was Saturday morning. Rich was eager to get out to the ballpark early, but Suzanne came out of the shower, dried herself without putting anything on, and dragged him back to bed, him protesting, the two of them laughing and kissing.

On Saturday night after the show they'd stopped for a couple of drinks, and when they got back to their room they had a long fuck: rolling around kissing and touching, and then 69—the first time for that in many months, since long before she cheated—and then finally she rolled him on his back and rode him cowgirl until she came like crazy, and then lay on him kissing his lips and his face and telling him how much she loved him.

And the next morning they did it slow, spoon-fashion lying on their sides, taking their time. Rich loved more than anything to hold and caress her breasts, pull gently on her nipples, and she closed her eyes and cooed for him. She felt safe and warm and loved. She felt happy; and she felt forgiven.

And now they were headed back down I-65, not saying too much, smiling at each other. She was holding Rich's hand, stroking the back of it, talking about having just soup and a quick salad when they got home.

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Love you," she said. He smiled at her and said, "love you."

**********************

On a Friday night in November they had their worst fight in months, when he came back from a three-day trip to Louisville. They'd been getting along better and better, and Suzanne was so eager to welcome Rich home with a night of sex. When he stumbled through the door, exhausted from his long drive, all he was thinking about was dinner. Dinner, then maybe a shower, and bed.

But there was no food in sight—just soft music on the stereo, and Suzanne's voice calling to him softly from their bedroom. When he got there he stopped dead.

There were candles burning on both night tables. A tray of appetizers and a couple of champagne glasses stood on the side table, with a bottle in an ice chest. The pillows on the bed were pushed to the side, the bedspread was on the floor and the sheets were rumpled, looking like the aftermath of a couple of hours of sex. And there was Suzanne, in a long silky red nightie, posed on her side, one leg up and bent at the knee. The nightie had slid up her thigh and he could see her pussy, looking wet and swollen. The room smelled like candles and sex.

"Hi baby," she said in a low, breathy voice. "I've been waiting for you."

"Have you?" His voice was harsh, and it shocked her. "Or did you spend the afternoon fucking some guy in our bed, so you could give me sloppy seconds?"

"Rich, I—"

"Maybe more than one guy—how would I know? All I know is that you look like a whore!"

He turned and stormed back out of the house. He was livid, out of control. Suzanne jumped up and ran after him, calling his name; but he was in the car in an instant, driving away.

Suzanne collapsed into a chair and started to cry. What had she done wrong this time? The more she thought about it, the more she started to get mad. Yes, she'd cheated on him. Yes, he was having a hard time trusting her. But it had been MONTHS ago—hadn't she been patient and loving and apologetic, hadn't she done literally everything she could think of to make it up to him?

Goddammit, was she going to be paying for this FOREVER?

She got up and went back to the bedroom. Blowing out the candles, she left everything else as it was. She dropped her nightie on the floor, got dressed in a blouse and a pair of jeans, picked up her purse and car keys, and headed out. She briefly thought about a movie but she was too upset; instead she headed for the mall, thinking, "shopping. Shoes. DSW."

Rich pulled back into the garage about an hour later. He'd been driving around—thinking, taking deep breaths, trying to calm down.

He knew he'd overreacted. Probably "misreacted" would be a better word. Within just a few minutes of leaving the house he saw it clearly—how Suzanne had gone to a lot of trouble to welcome him home in a fun, sexy and loving way.

The trouble was, he knew why he'd reacted that way, and he was ashamed of it. He had to talk to Suzanne—to apologize, he guessed—and he wasn't looking forward to it.

Rich was surprised to see that her car was gone. He found the bedroom just as she'd left it, so he took the appetizers and the champagne back into the kitchen, put the bottle back in the fridge, made himself a salad and had that and the canapés for dinner.

When Suzanne hadn't returned by 9 pm he found himself yawning. He headed into the bedroom, stripped his clothes off, pulled the bed back together and climbed in. He wasn't happy about what he'd done, but in a way he was kind of relieved not to have to face her just yet. In just a few minutes he was fast asleep.

Suzanne returned around 10 with two big shopping bags. She saw Rich's car and took a deep breath, psyching herself up to have it out with him. But when she saw the kitchen, then found him asleep in their bed, she only got angrier. That motherfucker!

She ate some of the appetizers, then went and grabbed her usual nightgown, not the sexy red one, and headed off to the guest room, where she locked the door. She tossed and turned for a long time before finally falling asleep.

When Suzanne came into the kitchen the next morning she was loaded for bear. Rich had made coffee and was sliding a great-looking omelet onto two plates. He turned to her, a sheepish look on his face; but she didn't give him a moment to say anything.

"I'm going out."

"Suze, honey, I'm sorry. I know I owe you—"

"Did you hear what I said? I'm going out." She grabbed her keys and stormed out the door, aware that she was probably making things worse but secretly delighted that she could punish him a little.

Rich began to steam as he sat there, drinking his coffee and eating his omelet without really tasting it, thinking about throwing her half of it away. He decided instead to simply let it sit on the table.

Yes, he'd been horrible the night before—but didn't he deserve a chance to apologize? Had she forgotten what behavior had gotten them into this whole situation? What about the months of suffering he'd been going through?

Rich had planned to skip his golf game, to stay home with Suzanne and take his lumps. But there wasn't much point in that now, was there? He went and got his gear together and headed off to the club.

Things got worse and worse over the next three days. Suzanne felt justifiably angry; Rich was equally pissed-off that she'd blown off his attempt to apologize. When they next saw one another, on Saturday night, he made no second try, which only made her anger resurface. They exchanged a few brusque words, then spent the evening apart. To his annoyance, Suzanne slept in the guest room again.

On Sunday Rich made coffee and breakfast for himself alone, and ignored Suzanne when she came into the room. Their argument began with:

"Why didn't you make enough coffee for both of us?"

"Well, you didn't seem too interested in the coffee or breakfast I made for you yesterday."

Within ten minutes it had reached its height, with both of them yelling:

"Just how the fuck do you expect me to feel when you call me a whore?"

"Well, if the shoe fits..."

At that, Suzanne smashed her coffee mug on the floor. She ran back to the bedroom and slammed the door behind her. The couple didn't exchange a single word for the next two days.

**********************

When Suzanne came home from work on Tuesday she was surprised to see Rich's car already in the garage. Coming cautiously into the kitchen, she saw him setting the table. A big Greek salad and a pair of pizza boxes sat on the counter.

Quietly he said, "I was hoping we could talk tonight. If you're willing, we could eat and then go for a drive." He wasn't looking at her.

All Suzanne wanted to do was throw her arms around him, but she held back. "That would be okay," she said.

They ate somewhat nervously, exchanging a few low-key sentences about work, and people they knew. Then they straightened up the kitchen, got their coats and headed for the car. Rich made a point of holding the passenger door for Suzanne.

He parked in the lot at Allerton Park. "Okay if we walk up and sit at the point?" She said sure. There was a scenic overlook that they both liked, with some comfortable benches, and usually nobody was up there.

It was very dark, and the stars were shining. They sat in silence for a while, both burrowed into their parkas.

"I was a complete asshole, and I'm sorry."

"Rich, I—"

"No, please, Suze. I actually have a confession to make, and it's going to be hard for me, so let me get it all out, okay?"

He watched her face and she nodded, curious.

"So," he said, "obviously this has to do with the cheating, and my feelings about that—but that's only part of it. When I came into the bedroom on Friday and saw you like that—

"Shit, honey, when I thought about it later I realized how nice it was, and how much trouble you'd gone to—but at the time none of that even crossed my mind. I saw you, in that amazingly hot nightie—"

He smiled at her; and then the smile disappeared and he hunched forward on the bench, staring straight ahead.

"The very first thought I had, just for a split second, was 'fuck—she's been fucking somebody else again.' "

She gasped. "Rich, I would—"

"Shhh. I know. I know." He took her hand. "I know you wouldn't—I know you didn't. I'm just telling you what flashed through my mind."

Rich let go of her hand again, and turned away from her. "But here's the hard part. This is why I got so crazy."

There was a long pause.

He said quietly, "it excited me."

More silence. Then suddenly he sprang up and began pacing around the bench.

"It got to me, thinking that you'd been fucking someone else and waiting til I came home to shove my face in it—maybe even literally. Maybe you were going to ask me to dive in and lick him out of your pussy.

"It brought back all our fantasy games, after you found out about the porn I'd been looking at. And I was horrified by my thoughts. What the hell was wrong with me?! Nothing in my entire life had ever hurt me like those photos of you and Brad—and instead of being disgusted I was getting a hard-on from imagining that you'd done it again?"

He kept pacing, his fists clenched, staring at the ground.

"It brought everything back. My cuckold fantasies, the games we played, how turned-on and frightened and confused they got me, and then your actual cheating. And it all swam around in my mind until I wondered what the hell was wrong with me.

"After all this time I was suddenly back to feeling like I somehow turned you into a cheating slut, like I let slip that it's what I secretly wanted. That despite all your apologies, all the time with Dr. Ross, all our conversations, you knew deep down what I was—

"Some kind of fucking wimp who wants his wife to cuckold him and then rub his nose in it." He was breathing hard as he paced, as if he'd just climbed two flights of stairs.

She wanted to jump up and hug him, kiss him, reassure him—but Suzanne waited.

He finally slumped back down on the bench and looked at her, his eyes tormented. "After everything that's happened, how can I still be turned-on by these thoughts?"

Looking down at the ground he said, "what kind of man am I?"

They sat for a while, and then Suzanne slid over so that her leg and shoulder were pressed against him. She put her gloved hand on his.

"Let's start with the last thing. You are a strong, kind, loving, thoughtful, generous man. You stand up for yourself, and you stand up for me and look out for me.

"The kind of man you are—the kind of husband you are—isn't about what fantasies you have, Rich. It's about the way you live your life, the way you treat me, the way we are with each other in our lives.

"I am so sorry that the nice evening I planned got ruined by what came into your mind—" He tried to interject something but she kept going. "—but it doesn't matter. What matters is you and me."

She took both her hands and pulled him around a little so she could see his face.

"I made a mistake I'll never, ever make again. I had sex with someone else. For the rest of my life I'll feel sorry, and for the rest of my life the only guy who will touch you is me.

"And if you still have those fantasies, and we decide to explore them—carefully, once in a while—then great. It doesn't mean I'd ever really let another man near me. And it doesn't mean that you're a wimp or a loser or a cuckold."

"If we don't, that's absolutely fine too. Vanilla sex with my strong, loving husband is still the best I've ever had."

They sat some more. She said, "and now—would it be all right to ask you to take me home? I'm freezing my ass off out here!"

**********************

They were careful with each other, sweet, a little tentative, for a few weeks. They made love frequently but cautiously, with an awful lot of looking at one another, and not so much abandon. Understandably, under the circumstances.

And then one Saturday Rich came home around 4 pm, after spending half a day at the office catching up on some paperwork, and he had a bottle of their favorite red wine in a bag. He found Suzanne and said, seriously, "how about if we share this at dinner and then, uh, maybe we could play a little tonight."

They both took it easy, and the wine helped. Mostly it was vanilla sex, with gentle foreplay and lots of kissing; but when he was inside her Rich said, "is it good, baby? Do I fuck you as good as Teddy does?"

Suzanne froze for a second; then she carefully said, "oh baby—you're so good! Teddy is good too, but you do me so well. Fuck me harder!"

She could feel his dick swell as he pounded her fiercely, groaning next to her ear.

"C'mon, baby, make me forget him! Give it to me!" And then she was too excited to figure out what to say next. They smacked against each other and Suzanne grabbed his ass and pulled him into her on each stroke and soon they were coming against each other, groaning, twisting, and it was a great orgasm for both of them, really hot.

A good twenty minutes later, with Suzanne lying dreamily in Rich's arms, he said, "that worked out okay, don't you think?"

Without lifting her head she murmured, "I sure loved it, baby." And then, sitting up, looking at him seriously, "but all that matters to me is that you feel happy and safe.

"We can play a little, like tonight, or we can leave it alone and just be Rich and Suzanne—that's more than enough for me. Let's just make sure we're careful about it, so nothing in our games starts freaking you out."

"Agreed," he said with a smile. They kissed a little more, then snuggled up and fell asleep.

**********************

Over the next few months they experimented with the game—when and how to mention "Teddy," what would be okay to say, what Rich might feel would be going too far. Suzanne was always the one putting on the brakes, double-checking with her husband, making sure they were communicating.

And then on a Wednesday night in April, she came into his study where he was sending some emails. She pushed back his chair, smiled at him as she sat down on his lap and twined her arms around his neck, gave him a kiss, and said, "baby, I've been thinking about something ...."

They tried it on Saturday ten days later, after several conversations to make sure everything was clear. When Rich came home after his golf game, there was Suzanne on the bed as she'd been back in November: pillows on the floor, rumpled sheets, the red nightie slid up her thigh to reveal her swollen, wet pussy. Rich stood and stared, as Suzanne smiled sleepily at him.

"He just left about ten minutes ago, baby," she whispered. "I couldn't stop coming and coming—I should be exhausted, but I really want more." She oozed off the bed, came over, and started stripping his clothes off, while he held her and buried his face in her hair, smelling her scent.

When he was naked she laid him down on the bed on his back and started licking his cock, which was already half-erect. "Thank you so much for letting me have him, baby," she said, between licks up and down his cock. "Teddy was SO good tonight!"

When Rich's dick was standing up rigid she straddled him and slid her pussy up his chest towards his face. "I'm so wet, honey, would you?..."

The wetness was flavored KY—plus Suzanne's own juices from a quick workout with her dildo—and they both knew that. Nonetheless she said, "lick some of his stuff out of me, honey—that would be SO hot!" She pressed her cunt to his lips and moaned as he grabbed her by the hips and pressed his tongue deep inside her.

Rich licked and sucked, stroking up and down her labia, sucking on her clit, while she wriggled against him, one hand stroking her nipples.

"Yes, baby, suck him out of me! That is so good...."

He didn't stop until she'd had an explosive orgasm that nearly made her fall off his face. She crouched over him, gasping, catching her breath, while he stroked her back gently and kissed her thighs.

Too impatient to wait any longer, Rich pulled her around on her hands and knees and got behind her, his cock smacking against her ass. "I want you now," he grunted. He was very excited. Suzanne arched her back and lay her head down, and without waiting he pushed all the way inside her. They both groaned.

Rich started stroking smoothly, not wanting to come too fast. At first they were silent, but then Suzanne began murmuring to him.

"Oh baby, it's so good! Can you feel his stuff in there? Can you feel Teddy's cum all over your cock? How is it to be the second dick inside me today?"