The Wrong Man

I realized - this is how you differentiate sex from making love. Emma must have felt it, too; because afterwards she held me tight and whispered, "I love you."

Years later, at two different social events, I had the opportunity to meet her two previous boyfriends/lovers; they were both slightly feminine, very non-threatening preppy types. After meeting the second 'boy' I had to wonder what first attracted Emma to an ex-college football player; someone so radically different from the others.

During that first summer we made love every few days, Emma controlled her emotions when it came to sex, therefore it wasn't an 'after every date' event. It was probably the fourth time we were in my bed when I turned her around onto her stomach and started to play with her perfect ass.

"We're not doing that!" She sounded angry.

"We're not doing what?"

"That! I don't want anything in my butt."

"I wasn't going there. Haven't you ever done it with the guy from behind?"

"No, that's how dogs do it."

I laughed. "Well, they do call it doggy, but humans have been doing it this way forever. And there's a good reason for it. Please, just relax and let me show you."

Emma seemed reluctant, she was tense, but I took my time; I slowed down and spent the next ten minutes or so massaging her back and shoulders. By the time I raised her on her knees she was very wet. I put a little saliva on my cock and entered her. I reached forward and fondled her breasts; Emma surprised me by letting out a groan.

I let go of her breasts, grabbed both halves of her gorgeous butt and started pumping in and out. As expected, the head of my cock was swollen and massaging her g-spot just right. Emma's groans grew louder, her fists clenched the sheets and much to my surprise, she actually started to rock back and forth in response to my motion. I squeezed her ass cheeks and lifted so that my balls were smacking her clit.

That's all it took; there was no denying that Emma was orgasming. The muscles in her vagina gripping while simultaneously flooding my cock with her juices. Emma buried her head in the pillow letting out a muffled scream. I didn't slow down; I gripped her butt and pushed in over and over, harder and harder. Within another minute I felt my cock swell longer and wider before releasing my own orgasm with the head against her cervix. One, two, three, four, five; each spasm felt incredible. Emma fell forward on her stomach, I collapsed on her back.

I rolled off before moving by her side to kiss her neck and massage her shoulder. Emma turned her face to me; there were tears in her eyes. "Jeff, that was wonderful. Thank you."

My hand moved to the back of her head and I brought her lips to mine. For the first time I spoke the words, "I love you." This was the start of our true love affair.

Very slowly, Emma opened up to trying new positions, but she never became vocal - no dirty talk in bed; and it took almost until November before she'd even consider receiving or giving oral sex. Whatever conservative upbringing she received never fully disappeared.

By the time summer ended, Emma and I were very 'exclusive'. I spent most of my weekends during her senior year traveling the sixty miles up to Princeton. We spent Thanksgiving at her parents' condo off Central Park. Although not openly hostile, the coolness emanating off her mother was apparent, but I assumed I'd eventually win her over, most people respond positively when I try to be friends.

Emma spent the winter break with me visiting my parents. Emma showed no sign of discomfort during the week we stayed at my parents' home, a small but comfortable Craftsman style popular in their suburb of Columbus. My folks liked Emma and she reciprocated.

Emma's parents didn't throw up roadblocks while we dated during her senior year. In retrospect, I think Lois and Jonathan Taylor assumed this was a passing fancy for her, I was her first exclusive relationship to last more than a few months. Their approach was to sit back and let it die out naturally, this approach always worked in the past, no reason to assume it wouldn't work for the schmuck from Ohio.

By June we were engaged. With a decent income and a relatively stable work schedule at TMG2, I asked Emma to marry me and she accepted. Emma appreciated we would be living in Philadelphia, visiting her parents in Manhattan wouldn't pose a hardship.

Now that I proposed and Emma accepted, her mom went into a panic and started the full court press to get Emma to change her mind. Emma stood up to her mother; insisting I was the one and she was getting married. Her mother eventually acquiesced, helped plan the wedding, but never stopped trying in very subtle ways from undermining our marriage. I didn't know how serious she was until much later.

Her parents' attitude made my recent choices difficult as well. Should I make myself available to spend more time with my wife, who now had her own career? Or spend that time busting my butt at work to become a 'C' level manager at my company, earning the position and income she would be proud of, and maybe showing her parents she hadn't made a mistake in choosing me for her husband?

It's the same choice so many young professionals face; not many find an ideal balance.

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Emma mood hadn't improved by the time she returned Monday from her parents' house after that second weekend. I decided to wait until the arrival of the other Jeff's letter before approaching her and continued to sleep in the guest room.

I also did something I swear would never do; I read her emails. While Emma was showering and getting ready Tuesday morning, I opened her laptop and signed on to her email program. There were too many to read in a short period of time, I attached an external hard drive and dumped the contents of her inbox and other folders (of course, like a great majority of computer users, Emma failed to remove the emails after they were deleted). I did have enough time to read two emails from her mother before shutting down her laptop and knew further reading would produce some fascinating revelations.

After Emma left for work I spent an hour reading; I felt terrible violating Emma's privacy, but there was little choice; her mother and I were in a war for Emma's mind and our marriage - all's fair, right? Plus, the emails proved I was right to be concerned. In one, her mother encouraged Emma to transfer to her company's New York office and move to the city. There was also an email from some guy, Grant Martin, that alluded to a dinner party at her parents' that they both attended and the desire to begin a correspondence.

As frosty as our relationship had become, reading Emma's emails gave me great hope for our future. In answer to her mother's biting comments, Emma professed her love for me and her hope our marriage would survive. Her mother was equally adamant that there was little hope; in more than one email she made mention to my confession regarding Sharon Roberts, basically telling Emma I must have cheated on her with Sharon and "who knows how many other woman including this latest" referring to the note from Teri.

Emma's only email to Grant Martin was a reply to his email; she reminded him she was married, hoped our marriage was salvageable, and asked him to respect her wishes to be left alone.

I spent my free time on Tuesday reading through all this. I came home Tuesday night in a good mood which only improved when I checked the mail. There was a letter from the other Jeff; he must have really wanted this to all go away. I ripped open the envelop and there it was - a notarized statement confirming that he was the Jeff who had owned the book and left the note from Teri inside. He even apologized for the problems it caused.

Emma came home that evening to grilled steaks, tossed salad, and a bottle of Merlot. We ate before I handed her the letter from the other Jeff. As Emma read the letter, her eyes misted. She came up out of her chair, sat in my lap and kissed me.

"This makes me very happy, Jeff."

"Almost as happy as I am to have you in my arms again. It's been too long."

"Then take me to bed and let's make love."

I picked her up, carried her up the stairs and laid her down on the bed. The urgency of the situation prevented either of us to consciously recognize that the window shades were still open, the street light shining through the window illuminating the room. I quickly stripped Emma of her shirt, pants and panties before removing my clothes. Emma lay on her back waiting expectantly.

It had been too long since our last time together; I decided we both needed the physical and emotional act of lovemaking more than sex; so rather than spend time on foreplay, I moved between her open legs, my cock was rock hard and Emma was wet and ready. She held my cock to guide it in. We stopped. The light from outside made her eyes shine, maybe moisture from tears; whatever the reason, she was as beautiful as I've ever seen her, as beautiful as the day I lifted her wedding veil to kiss my bride all those years ago.

We kissed with our eyes open, then I started to move slowly in and out of her vagina, our tongues playing with each other's at the same time. Body, mind, soul; this was lovemaking. I gripped her waist and did my best to get the head of my cock as far as I could inside her; trying to tickle her cervix, not ram it, just make her know I was there at the entrance to her womb.

When I felt her shudder, I knew this was the time to let go. My brain split in two; one half releasing endorphins filled with love toward this woman, my wife; the other half couldn't help but play the silly Beatle's tune, 'Come Together'. Where did that come from?

This act of love was only the first of three couplings during the night. The second was a more energetic, physical fucking. Lots of time paying with Emma's nipples, her teasing the head of my cock with her tongue, me reciprocating with my tongue teasing her clit, ending with me taking her doggy-style, my thumb in her ass while pounding away; probably only the fourth or fifth time she even let me near that precious brown hole of hers.

We showered after that, but neither of us were sated, we started with her sitting on the sink, me pounding her with her left leg on my shoulder and her right leg wrapped around my waist. I picked her up and carried her to the edge of the bed. While I stood between her legs, I did my best to drive my hips.

"Jeff, I'm finished. I can't cum again. Don't wait for me. Just give me your sperm, baby. Let me feel you cum again, love."

"Make me cum, babe. Tell me what I need to know to make me cum."

Emma read my mind, "I love you Jeff, I'll always love you!"

That's all it took.

We lay there after finishing, both of us catching our breath and getting our heart rate back to normal. I couldn't tell what Emma was thinking, especially after the past few weeks. Despite Emma's declaration of love during our lovemaking, I worried and wondered if the last hours of passion meant something was about to change. The optimist within me felt that maybe we could start working on our marriage and a family; after recent events and until this evening, I would have wondered whether this had been a "good-bye Jeff" fuck for old times' sake. Emma was quiet and I decided to wait her out.

"Would you like a glass of wine?"

"Yes, Jeff. There should be a bottle of Chardonnay in the frig. Could you pour me a glass, please?"

"Sure - any water?"

"No, I don't want to be up peeing all night; just the wine, thanks."

I walked down to the kitchen and poured her wine and grabbed myself a beer. I placed the wine on her nightstand and bent down to give her a kiss. I could see the determination on Emma's face as I laid down next to her.

"You don't know what it's like, Jeff. To wonder whether your mother and father love you or whether you're just another society fashion accessory.

"Think how differently you were raised. How your mother and father greeted me into their lives, even the first time I met them. Then compare that to how my mother and father relate to you."

I interrupted her, "They never liked me."

Emma gave me her 'look' - the same whenever I interrupted her.

"You think that's only you? How many times have you seen any warmth toward me, their own daughter?"

I had to admit it was a rarity, but only assumed it was as a reaction to her marrying me. I kept my mouth shut and nodded for her to continue.

"Now imagine you're a young girl and that's how your parents react to your presence. And when you turn ten you're sent off to boarding school. I never thought they didn't like you; I only assumed they were treating you the same as they've always treated me; with cold indifference."

"Tell me Emma; what does this have to do with our love and marriage? Why is this suddenly important to you?"

"Because three or four months ago my mother called me and we went out to lunch. Mother said she wanted to 'reconnect' and was sorry for how distant we've become. She was throwing an emotional lifeline to our relationship and I admit, I wanted it. Since then she and I have spent more time together; she's told me how proud she was regarding my graduating Summa Cum Laude from Princeton and has been very complimentary regarding my career.

"I told Mother we were thinking of starting a family. I admit she advised me to wait. Mother said that's what derailed her career, when Father insisted on her getting pregnant. She feels she was too young to have a child, it's one of the reasons she feels we've never been close. She blames Father for that and said you were doing the same to me; making me lose my individuality and any self-fulfillment."

I was taken aback by this last statement. "Emma - this is just too ironic. Last year, you are the one who brought up starting a family. When I hesitated, you decided we should get a dog to 'test our paternal instincts', is how you put it. We got Sampson and a few months ago I came to the realization that we were ready, that we'd make great parents. Now your mother is saying I want you pregnant and barefoot in the kitchen?"

"She didn't say that!"

"It's the same thing. Emma, it sounds as if Lois is driving a wedge between us. We, yes we, talked about starting a family." I was starting to raise my voice, never a good thing; Emma reacted.

"Mother only wishes the best for me!"

This was the second time in two weeks Emma used those exact words. I remembered a movie, 'The Stepford Wives' in which all the wives were docile slaves to their husbands. Was I suddenly dealing with a Stepford Daughter?

"I need this Jeff. I need a relationship with at least one of my parents. You've been spoiled all your life; two loving parents, three loving siblings. I need my mother in my life."

I almost asked, "what about us?" but knew better than to ask because in the mood Emma was in right now, she would interpret this as being selfish on my part. Plus, I had to be careful; the last thing I could afford was to tip my hand regarding anything I learned from reading her emails, but I had to ask.

"Is there someone else, Emma?"

Emma sat up and looked at me square in the face, her eyes burning into mine.

"No, dammit, Jeff. There isn't. I would never cheat on you!"

I had to defend myself. "I worry with all these weekends to New York. I worry; you're an attractive woman and I know your parents lead an active social life. I know men are bound to be attracted to you and ask you out."

Had I said too much? Emma's reply didn't sound as if she was suspicious.

"I've only attended one dinner party that my parents held last weekend at their home. One of my father's employees was there, but you needn't worry, he wasn't there as a set-up."

I kept my mouth shut and only replied by putting my arm around her shoulders and giving her a kiss.

My beer bottle and Emma's wine glass were empty by now; I turned off my nightlight and we exchanged, "I love you's." I rolled over and shut my eyes, hoping for a little sleep to help forget my fears for a couple of hours. "So much for a magical reconciliation," I thought to myself.

The next evening I checked Emma's phone while she made dinner. Damn, two calls from her mother today, both lasting over thirty minutes. I was fucked.

During dinner I took a chance.

"Emma, would you like to spend the weekend on the shore? I could get a room on Fire Island."

Emma had the grace to look guilty.

"Sorry Jeff. Mother called today and she has two tickets to 'The Merchant of Venice' with Al Pacino. She asked me to join her Saturday night. Can we go to the shore next weekend, please?"

"Yea, sure. Next weekend."

At least I was sleeping in my own bed again; we slept together, but didn't make love.

Thursday morning I made a decision. I had my mother-in-law's and Grant Martin's email addresses and with these, the war was about to escalate.

What I did next would get me fired, unemployable with any IT department and maybe thrown in prison - if I was caught. I sent fake emails to Lois Taylor and Grant Martin; both emails appeared to come from a well-known online business and contained a link when opened would infect both of their computers with two different viruses; one virus allowed me to remotely access each computer, the other was a Keylogging virus which recorded everything typed into the keyboard, including user IDs and passwords. Grant Martin and Lois Taylor, like many people who have been scammed, would never know their computers were infected.

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Looking Back - Three - Getting Married

Our wedding was what anyone brought up in the upper-class would expect. Despite Lois Taylor's feelings toward me and her hostility to this union, it was her time to put on a show. My parents, brother and sisters were there with their spouses and children, but we kept the rest of our guest list to a minimum. Mr. and Mrs. Taylor showed no such restraint. Every Tom, Dick and Harry was invited and probably attended. What a farce.

One thing really surprised the hell out of me. Jonathan Taylor walked Emma up the aisle, he seemed to have a bit of tear in his eye; he gave her hand to me and for the first time said something directly to me. Quietly, so quiet no one else could overhear him over the organ playing Mendelssohn, he said, "Take good care of her, please."

That was it before he turned to sit next to the ice maiden, my new mother-in-law.

The reception was held at their country club. I did my best to smile at all the phonies that showed up to suck up to my in-laws. I think my mom, dad and siblings rolled their eyes hard enough and often enough to get whiplash. My dad, brother and two sisters' husbands cornered me at one point. My dad said it best. "Jeff, Emma's one hell of a sweet and beautiful woman, but good luck with your new family." All four of them laughed while raising a toast to my happiness.

The early years of our marriage were wonderful; some ups and downs, both Emma and I were enjoying success in our chosen careers and eventually managed a decent balance between work and play. I assume her parents called a truce; since we lived in Philadelphia, just far enough from Manhattan to make constant interruptions inconvenient, the truce held until just recently.

We recently even started to talk about children, but being the over-educated, over-compensated urbanites we are, we did what every couple in a similar situation does, we got a dog to make certain we were ready for parenthood.

Next came the big decision - rescue dog or pure breed? We probably spent as much time discussing our choices as we did the purchase of our first condo. In the end we compromised, which translates as - we got the puppy Emma fell in love with while spending a weekend touring the Finger Lakes wine country. Sampson was the most personable of the litter of a Lab mom and an unknown male.