The Note

My still very attractive wife of thirty two years has a habit of penciling out on a piece of throw away paper, the message she intends to send via birthday or thank you card. She then edits this written message on that piece of throw away paper before writing in ink, her final version on the actual intended card.

Invariably she asks me also to edit her penciled version. She writes a beautiful original message and I rarely have need to edit it but she always tells me to read the initial version before she commits it to pen and paper. I never could understand the need for my reviewing the note. I have had to work to accept this quirk of her personality.

Now you might understand my reaction when, while dumping the trash cans one Sunday evening, one of her notes floats away from the trash can onto the garage floor. This particular piece of nondescript three by five crumpled paper, opened somewhat as it floated to the floor. It lit with the penciled message side up. I picked it up, as I would any piece of trash intending to deposit it into the large trash barrel which is the final container for the garbage company to pick up once a week one Monday mornings.

As I leaned over to pick it up, my eyes could focus on the message with which I was not familiar. In fact, it was one I had not seen or edited. This was quite unusual as she is very particular and demanding that I edit her every birthday, thank you or call back note. That's just her personality. I think it is a bit over kill but I have accepted it as reflecting her feelings of insecurity. She has other minor quirks of behavior which confirm to me her deeper disturbed needs for intense social conformity.

As a result she is inhibited in a number of areas of her life. This is especially true of her extremely conservative dress. Our relationship has been strained on many occasions because she just can't "cut loose" and have fun for the sake of having fun. She is always worried about what others will think of her. She, on the other hand doesn't mind the house being in a major degree of chronic disarray. That is until neighbors, family or friends are expected. At that point she panics and becomes unnecessarily demanding that I either straighten it all up immediately or give major assistance to picking up, dusting etc. Hopefully you get the idea. It is okay with her if the house is littered with yesterdays or last weeks newspapers and candy wrappers if it is just me and her here. But God forbid if even a delivery person should see the messy house.

Even if one of our three married children returns for a short visit, this sudden need for appearing "proper" takes over everything, replacing every activity until the house is neat. They know the mess I am forced to live in and her reaction to their impending visits. This leaves me with the distinct feeling that I am not as nearly important as the occasional delivery person.

She cleans the house and dresses up only for others. Hubby (realdoc) doesn't count it seems to me. Her dress is so conservative that the only skin visible is on her face and hands. Even her legs , including her ankles of course, are covered at a minimum with hose. This has gotten more pronounced over the last few years. "Old people shouldn't show off their wrinkles" is a frequent reply to my request for a more modern outfit. She has a beautiful body but refuses to show it off, even to me in the privacy of our secluded home.

Back to the fallen piece of paper. I read with increasing interest the note she had written and then slightly altered.

The note read as follows:

"Dearest Hal,

I awakened Friday morning to quite a

beautiful surprise!

Thank you for the beautiful blue

See through nightie. I will take it on my next vacation

trip and wear it for you to again ravish my needy body

when I see you again next month.

How thoughtful of you.

I shall always remember our intimate special times. You fill me full to overflowing. smiles.

Your gift(s?) are always so appreciated

And our special times so full filling.(wink)

Again, thank you, my love.

Sherrie."

She had made a few minor changes but the message was very up front and transparent to me. I suspect you can interpret it also.

There was no date on the note. This was not unusual as all her initial notes were without dates. Now I empty the trash exactly once one week no more and no less. I do this religiously every Sunday evening prior to the Monday morning trash pickup. The note had to have been written this past week. I looked again at the penciled note. On the other side was another note: take check to Curves. I remembered that yesterday (Saturday) she reminded me that she had gone to exercise at Curves on the previous day (Friday) and also paid them their monthly fee.

I thought back to last week. I had been out of town on business from very early Thursday morning until very late Friday night. Yesterday we had gone grocery shopping then eaten out. She always seemed pleased to have me arrive home. Last Friday was no exception. A sterile kiss on the cheek is all I get. I have given up trying for anything more. She always has prepared a weekend "Honey do" list for me. I guess that one had already disappeared into the garbage container. Everything was accomplished that was on it. I didn't look for it.

Our children have long since left our house. That leaves just Sherrie and me. Sherrie had moved out of our common marital bed seven years ago. Then three years ago we purchased a smaller town-house in a nearby bedroom community. She insisted on having her own bedroom and bath. "You snore!" was her excuse. I didn't and still don't. I had set up a sound activated recorder several nights at bedside. It caught my occasional cough and turning in the bed but no snoring. Sherrie just said I didn't test enough nights. Three nights was plenty for me to convince myself that snoring was not the problem. Then she said I get up at night to pee and that wakes her up. I don't get up since I quit drinking a glass of water with my nighttime blood pressure medicine. Just a sip will get it down. Regardless, of all arguments and pleadings, I was cut off from all intimacies such as snuggling and sex. As a result our communications went to hell in a handbasket.

Our sexual relations had already stopped at that point, having tapered off over the previous several years. This was cause for a serious disagreement but I lost out. I believe she cheated me out of my spousal rights as surely as if she had been actively cheating with another man. When I told her this she really hit the ceiling calling me a pervert and mentally whacky. I was left with accepting her as she had become, argue incessantly, or leave.

I gave serious consideration to the latter. Due to my strongly held religious views on marriage, I had accepted the new norm of sleeping solo. I rapidly became not only her handyman, but my own. Gradually I came to prefer her absence. We had slipped into this less than optimal buddy living arrangement against my will and better judgment but felt I had no alternative. I suggested marital and or sexual counseling but these were rejected forthwith on multiple occasions. Each time was associated with increasingly loud vocal rejection. I came to believe that life was actually better the less we saw of each other. This made avoiding the pain of having a beautiful room mate who was off limits to emotional and sexual sharing much more tolerable.

I still worked regularly but with fewer total hours and significantly fewer overnights away from home for the past four years. I now had breakfast at home and usually got home well before five pm having avoided most of the evening traffic. Lunch hours disappeared of course. These welcome work changes came about after being promoted to a senior position four years ago. Our income was more than adequate especially now with the promotion plus our three kids out of college and living independently.

Essentially we were like long time acquaintances living together. I would say we shared a lot but that really wasn't true anymore. We had shared for the first twenty five years but the past few years became an increasingly dry desert emotionally. Sherrie had never worked so her sharing the burden of the household activities was now relegated to some charity work, exercising, watching television and fixing an evening meal. Of late, this meal had become simply a TV dinner with small side salad. In my mind, she had retired from home making, child rearing and husband satisfying. I couldn't understand how she could go without sex as she demanded of me. I wondered if her pussy was as dry as the desert we lived in.

She had a gynecologist but never discussed or revealed what they talked about or if she took replacement hormones or whatever women take in her age bracket. She refused to talk about sex, arousal, menopause or anything about her body with me. Maybe I was lucky as my friends told me of the numerous complaints there wives had with hormones, sleep, weight gain and depression all arising, seemingly, from their empty nest syndrome.

So where does this leave us. It was an uncomfortable living arrangement but with familiarity of a mutual past history of thirty some years and shared children. Otherwise we lived separate lives. Mine was work, exercise, music and stunt flying as a hobby. Hers was whatever she did while I was out earning the way for the two of us. I had never given any previous thought that she might be fooling around as she, in our early years had been so insecure acting She continued dressing very conservatively. There was no change in fear that others might see her with a hair out of place or a speck of dust in the house. My friends sometimes commented on how "proper" she was. She dressed sloppily around the house and, to my way of thinking, did a piss poor job of housekeeping. Still, she had kept herself in really good physical shape. Whenever, on those rare occasions, I got to see her partially undressed, I saw a beautiful sexy body. It was body I longed for but that was off limits to me.

I frequently told her I missed sex with her but her reply was, "Well we are getting older and I have no need for that anymore".

Somewhat angrily my reply was usually something like, "Well I still have needs and I hate to just masturbate in private because you refuse me".

"Honey, have I ever refused you?"

"Yes, on many occasions. It is usually not an outright refusal necessarily, but always and excuse or an unfulfilled promise as in 'tomorrow I promise'". Of course tomorrow never came.

Somewhat angrily she replied, "Honey, I will lay down and spread my legs on your bed and allow you to get off in me if that's what you demand of me. Just remember you always make a mess in me and then I have to shower to clean up. You just wipe off your dick and are ready to go. You have no consideration for my hygiene. You think I smell good but I know I always stink down there, especially when you're done with me.".

"Sherrie, the biggest turn off in the world is to have an unwilling, non participating and submissive wife while the greatest turn on is to have a sexual partner who enjoys and wants sex and actively participates. Something you have not done in years".

"Jon, I cannot will myself to want sex. It is over for me."

"Does that mean that I have to look elsewhere for sexual gratification, Sherrie?"

"I thought you told me you masturbated to get your jollies. Is that not enough. You are getting old also and shouldn't be thinking about sex all the time."

Thus it went. I did think seriously of finding a willing and needy partner but my religious background and beliefs about infidelity were just too strong. She told me many times, also, that she considered infidelity as being wrong. I was now beginning to think that she had been telling that to me for my benefit, not hers

So here I am standing at the trash can with this disturbing note, trying to sort out what it all meant.

Having read many stories "on line" in Literotica in the "Loving Wives" section and how husbands always did all the interesting electronic investigations or hired a P.I., I wondered how I should proceed. Of course, I never thought such fiction would ever become reality in my life. I wondered how terribly difficult and expensive all this was going to be. In these stories the investigation was usually a large part of the story and frankly, I enjoy that part a lot. I'm part industrial investigator as part of my job. Now I thought I was going to have to go through all those things the other authors so cleverly described. I mean, GPS's and hidden microphones. I had looked at the tiny cameras and knew I could never hide one in our house without her finding it. She had eagle eyes for the smallest changes.

Then there was the confrontation. I wondered how I was going to manage that. Of course, I had condemned her already on just a flimsy note. It certainly seemed pretty damning to me however.

I decided not to confront Sherrie, at least not immediately. More information was needed to confirm my suspicions. I actually began to look forward to the search and investigation. I decided right then that I wanted a well built case before doing anything like a confrontation. Our relationship was still important to me.

I guess the first thing was to do a chronological investigation. Next was a search for this blue nightie I had never seen. Then to find out who this "Hal" guy is.

Let' see, it is now Sunday evening. I got home night before last. She had paid a bill and gone to exercise at Curves that day before I got home. I had left early Thursday morning, the day prior. That left Thursday night, the only night for any illicit liaison. Then Friday morning was mentioned in the note. Apparently this Hal person had departed sometime early Friday morning having left the blue nightie as a gift for my wife before she got up. It took little thought to conclude that the blue nightie was still in my house somewhere. I would need tolook for it in private. I wondered where she had hidden it. I wondered how many hours it would take to find it.

Now, what about her saying she would see him next month when she took "vacation". I had not heard about any such vacation. Was she planning to go away for a while? Was this meeting him to be when I was to be out of town next month? Was her "vacation" to be some other time apart from me? I was now very interested tracking and documenting in her subversive activities. Either way, I apparently had time to plan my monitoring activities.

I slipped the note into my pocket and considered looking carefully through the trash for other clues. This was not the time to do that as I wanted her to be gone when I undertake this more thorough search of the house. What other clues might I find? When would the search for this "blue nightie" gift she had received begin?

I finished with the trash and took it to curbside. Afterward,

Fortunately, I was not otherwise engaged when she announced she was going down to Walmart to finish up some last minute shopping. I knew what that meant...at least two hours were to be mine alone to search the house. Not much time but enough to begin at least. I wondered where to start the search for the "nightie". Hopefully I would find it and maybe have time to replace everything back to normal before she arrived back from shopping.

As she drove away, I began my search immediately. First I went to her bedroom and her into large walk-in closet. Amazingly, a beautifully wrapped gift box, complete with retied colorful bow was just inside her closet door. What a trusting soul she was. I hardly ever went into her bedroom unannounced or uninvited so she must have thought I was still the clueless cuck. The gift box had an attached gift card that drew my immediate attention.

On the card, clearly written and quite legible, was the following:

My dear Sherrie,

I saved this and gave it

To you as a parting gift

For a most memorable night

In your bed. You are a wonderful

Lover. I remember with great affection

Our most satisfying times together and look forward to many more in OUR future.

Please wear this for me next time.

(smiley face heart drawn in with an arrow through it)

I Love you and your beautiful body!

HAL

There is was, plainly revealed. My anticipated hours of searching and monitoring suddenly had vanished. I now knew almost everything I needed to know. I gently pulled the scotch taped note off the gift box and placed it safely in my pocket with her thank you note.

I opened the gift box gently. It top was a little tight as if it had never been removed. Even the gift tissue covering the " nightie" was carefully placed. Could it be she had not yet looked at it? I doubted that as she had thanked him for it. I removed it carefully and held it up to look at it. It was the appropriate size for Sherrie. C plus 38 busts and short. In addition, it was a see through gown and just long enough to cover her butt and pussy. I could imagine how sexy she would look with it, providing she was willing to take advantage of it's beauty and see through capabilities with nothing on underneath it. My mind wandered as I visualized her dark buff and dark half dollar sized areola with her permanently protruding nipples seducing any who viewed her in it. Then I remembered, it was for her lovers benefit, not mine. I felt a flush of anger and disappointment. Then came the full impact!

My heart was crushed, now knowing that I would never see her in this for my benefit. She had been and continued giving herself to another man, not me, her husband to whom she had promised her life and exclusive sexual contact. She had given away what was not hers to give away; her body. She belonged to another man in body and maybe in soul also.

Anger took hold of me as I wept in despair. Then hope came to my rescue. I was soon going to be free of my promises to her and to God about fidelity to her. I was going to be sexually free to once again enjoy a willing and participating partner. Yes, free indeed but how to preserve my financial freedom also? This meant trips to my lawyer with its legal expenses but those would be a small price to pay in comparison to the saving of my financial future when free of Sherrie. I now saw the bright side to a dark problem. If only I could pull it off. Meaning emotionally mostly.

I replaced the gown and the tissue. The box top and the ties were carefully replaced and the box returned to its original place and condition, less the note from Hal, still in my pocket. I knew she could not ask me if I had seen it. Let her worry a little. All this had taken a sum of ten minutes. I was comfortably seated in front of my computer in my den when she returned.

Next stop was to look for clues as to who this Hal person was. I found her address book easily. Left in plain sight on her small writing desk in her bedroom. I thumbed through it and quickly found one Halbert Halversen. It appeared to have been in her address book for some time. She conveniently included his cell phone number and email address. She had presented me with a treasure trove of information with practically no effort on my part. I could hardly believe she could be so stupid or naïve. Then again, I wasn't allowed in her bedroom and had voluntarily not entered in several years. That is until tonight. I guess she had thought I would never find out and thus have no need or desire to come into her private room. One little note had really spilled her cherry cart. I am sure she was unaware of my discoveries and I intended to keep it that way for the time being. I took her address book to my home office and scanned the incriminating page and both notes into my computer documents and secured the file with a password. Her address book was carefully replaced in its original location.