Cuckold club

To Have and to Cuckold Pt. 03

by Ginger

07/24/2016 00:31 in blowjob


THE PAST: Josh met a sexy woman named Mel in a nightclub. She turned out to be everything that Naomi was not. He quickly started developing feelings for her and they became close. In an unexpected twist, Naomi realized that she stood a good chance of losing Josh to this other woman. That potential loss made her see just how much she cared for him. She made him an offer that she thought he couldn't refuse. However, things were different than they had been. To her surprise and dismay, he not so gently refused her proposal.

Josh's elation was short lived. He found out that Mel's feelings for him were deeper than he anticipated. His conscience wore on him because he knew that he was now the perpetrator instead of the victim. He was now in Naomi's shoes. Deep down he knew that he did not - could not - love Mel, no matter how much he wanted to. His heart was already taken.

Eventually, he did the only thing he could do. He let Mel go.

THE PRESENT: With the help of his big sis, Josh begins to ascend out of the quagmire that he allowed himself to sink into...



I may not have been in love with Mel, but it sure felt like a big part of me was missing without her around. When she walked out of my life (okay, when I pushed her out) it was like she took all of the fun with her. I retreated into my shell and stayed there for days.

I didn't even go to see Naomi to let her know that Mel and I were finished. Part of it was childish. I didn't want to give her the reprieve from her jealousy. But there was also a part of me that was wondering if I made the wrong decision. Of course there are many out there who would say, "Duh! Of course you made the wrong choice". In the end though, it wasn't really my choice to make.

You see, for me it wasn't a choice of Mel or Naomi. My heart made that choice long before I met Mel. The decision boiled down to me. What kind of person did I want to be? Was I the kind of person who would string a girl along that had feelings for me just because it made me feel good, knowing that I was in love with someone else? Would keeping her around hoping for the slim possibility that I could develop feelings for her be better or worse than setting her free to find someone who would love her and only her?

I did have mixed feelings of relief and jealousy knowing that Mel was the type of girl who would only stay single as long as wanted to be. Any man lucky enough to catch her would have to be a complete idiot to let her go.

Me included.

Still, the questions lingered. Some of them I knew the answers to, others were elusive.

Could I have fallen for Mel if I hadn't met Naomi first? Absolutely.

Why did Naomi have such a hold on my heart? No fucking clue.

I didn't know then. I honestly still don't know now. I don't think I ever will. That's what's so frustrating about love. It isn't logical, but it makes perfect sense. It often hurts but it feels great. Craziest damned emotion.

"It is remarkable how similar the pattern of love is to the pattern of insanity." That Merovingian knows his shit.

After a few days of living like a hermit, I decided to go see Naomi. I definitely had to talk to her. Was I ready to talk about being exclusive? Not sure. But we needed to sit down and talk about something.

I didn't bother calling or texting her because I didn't know what to say. I just figured that when we were in the same room we'd figure it out.

I should have called.

When I got to her apartment, I knew something was wrong. I felt it. My ears didn't actually pick up the familiar sounds of her moaning until a few seconds later. Even through the door, I could sense what was going on in that apartment. Naomi is not a quiet lay.

I almost retreated and slinked away. Almost. But my rage started building up. I'm sure part of it was residual depression of Mel leaving, but I could not contain it. I balled up my fists and hammered on her door like I was the police.

I heard the activity on the other side of the door cease. There was a moment of silence before I heard Naomi yell out, "Who is it?"

I didn't even answer. I banged on the door again. The light in the peephole disappeared, which let me know that Naomi was looking out of it.


The door opened and Naomi stood there in a bathrobe, which she held closed.

"What's wrong baby?"

I pushed past her into her apartment and laid eyes on a naked man sitting on her couch with a condom covered erection that stuck straight up in the air. The condom was glistening with what could have only been her juices. His forehead beaded with perspiration. When he saw me charge in he immediately tried to preserve his modesty by covering himself with one of her pillows.

Now my rage had reached epic proportions. I was pissed when I heard her having sex. Seeing the undeniable evidence of a naked guy that was still ready for action was a different thing.

I swallowed the urge the beat him senseless. I turned to her, and in a voice that I'm sure was menacing, told her, "We need to talk,"

Her eyes flashed defiance. Knowing Naomi, I shouldn't have expected her to shrink down in intimidation.

"Josh, I'm busy. You should've called."

My anger needed a place to vent. It was like steam filling an enclosed pot with the lid tightly in place. The lid was getting ready to be blown off.

I turned to him and said, "Dude, you don't wanna be here. Leave."

Had the guy not been in the awkward position that he found himself in, he might have posed a threat. But he was at three distinct disadvantages. The first was the amount of homicidal rage that I was feeling. The second was having him sitting down while I was standing, and the last being a touch of latent homophobia that is present in most straight men. No man wants to have to tussle with another with his balls hanging out.

Naomi stepped between us and held her hand out.

"Josh, you need to leave. We'll talk later."

This did nothing to calm my rage. Until this point, considering the level of anger I was feeling, I was being pretty calm. That was over


My voice echoed down the hallway of her apartment building. I'd completely forgotten that the door was still open. Neighbors started to open their doors and subtly inquire about what was going on in 312G.

"Steve sweetie. You better get dressed."

His face flashed with genuine concern. "I'm not leaving you here with this guy."

Naomi tenderly stroked the side of his face. "Don't worry. Josh isn't going to hurt me. I'll be fine."

He didn't look convinced. His eyes still scanned me warily as he weighed his options. I grilled him, daring him to make a move.

"Josh! You wanna talk. Fine. Go out in the hallway and wait for us to get dressed. Your only other option is for me to call the cops and have you removed!"

I knew she was serious, so I reluctantly went out in the hallway as she slammed the door behind me. Ten minutes later a sullen looking Steve strode past me using big angry steps and disappeared out of the building.

I walked into the apartment to find her sitting with her arms and legs crossed. Her eyes told me exactly what was on her mind.

"So you want to talk? Start talking!"

By now my anger had dissipated - a little. But I still had this need to attack Naomi. I took the seat across from her and leaned my elbows on my knees. I wiped my face with my hands.

"So you're still sowing your royal oats, huh?"

She sat there and smirked at me.

"Really? You disappear from my life for weeks at a time with that fucking bimbo. Then for the past, I don't know, two to three days you won't return any of my calls or texts. Now you want to show up out of the blue, kick my door in, and get angry that I'm not celibate?! Get over yourself Josh!"

She did have a point there. I could admit that to myself. But I was not going let her know that!

"Oh please! We both know that YOU of all people aren't going to be celibate!"

"FUCK YOU JOSH! In case you forgot, I wanted to be exclusive with you. But you had some need to rub that skank in my face, talking about psychoanalysis and exploding...whatever! YOU CHOSE HER! So why don't you run back to Miss Tea and Crumpets and leave me the hell alone!"

The mention of the day I threw Mel in her face squelched my gusto. It reminded me that I used her to exact karmic justice on Naomi. I didn't really intend it for that purpose, but that's what happened. Images of Mel crying on my doorstep let me know that I was not an innocent party in this heartbreak drama.

"Mel and I broke up."

I looked up at her expectantly. I don't know what I expected. Remorse. Sympathy. Maybe a little empathetic sadness. But she just looked at me, waiting for me to continue.

"You aren't going to say anything?"

"What do you want me to say Josh? I'm sorry? Because I'm not. That fucking British bitch wasn't right for you anyway." I then heard her mumble, "Probably wasn't even her real accent." The fact that she was jealous enough to get catty did give me pleasure.

"She's South African." I said, thinking for some reason that the correction was meaningful. Naomi looked at me like she wanted to lodge something sharp in my sternum.

"Big fucking deal. She's still a tramp."

Hearing her attacking Mel angered me. Of the three of us, she was the least culpable.

"Well, at least she didn't cheat on me."

"I never cheated on you either Josh. I was always honest with you. I told you from the beginning about who I am and what I want. You knew exactly what you were getting in to."

"SO WHAT NA!" I shouted as I stood up. She didn't even flinch. "Knowing is different than feeling. Knowing didn't stop my fucking heart from breaking!"

I didn't want to get emotional, but I couldn't help it. The feelings were there, buried very close to the surface. They'd been there for a while now.

"How do you think I felt every time you went out with another guy? How did you feel when I was out with Mel?" I asked her. Naomi sighed as she deflated. Understanding reached her eyes. I think that for the first time she actually looked at this from my point of view.

Slowly, she got up from the couch, came over to me, and wrapped her arms around my neck. She kissed my cheek and held me in a warm embrace.

"I'm really sorry Josh. Not about her, but about hurting you."

We hugged for a few more minutes, just enjoying the feel of each other.

"I've missed you baby." Her breathy whisper in my ear took away all of the pain that I'd felt. Her lips met mine. It started soft at first, but soon we were making out.

I started to try to lead her into the bedroom, but she broke the kiss when she realized my intentions. I was confused at first, but then I looked at the couch and remembered that not too long ago she was having sex with another man.

"Do you want anything to drink?" She changed the subject as she went to the kitchen.

I told her yes and took a seat on the couch. She returned with two waters and handed me one as she sat next to me. We both took leisurely sips as we looked at each other.

"Don't you even want to know why she left?"

"No. Not really." She said with a triumphant smile. She was enjoying this a little too much. I watched her take another sip of her water and marveled at how gracious and beautiful she was. I could tell that she knew that I was looking at her, but she didn't feel uncomfortable in the slightest.

"It's your fault you know."

"Really? How's that? How did I make little miss Tattoo run off?"

I paused because I was building up the courage to say what I needed to say. My heart was practically in my throat.

"She left because I couldn't fall in love with her. I...I'm in love with you."

She froze mid sip. Even from behind the water bottle, I could see her shocked expression. Time stopped for me. Seconds and minutes no longer existed. I realized that I wasn't even breathing.

Was this what Mel felt like when she whispered those words to me? God, what if Naomi reacts like I reacted? No wonder Mel was so hurt!

Naomi slowly put the water on the coffee table in from of us. "Wow Josh. I"

I wanted to sprint out of there and throw myself off the nearest high point. Didn't matter what it was; bridge, skyscraper, a really tall fucking tree. I just wanted to end it all.

That is until she wrapped herself around me like an anaconda.

"I-I think I love you too Josh." She let go of me and sat back, looking into my eyes. "No, I know I do. I love you Josh."

From then on we were pretty much the stereotypical exclusive couple. I introduced her to my parents (that was an exercise in how much they could embarrass me in one evening). I met her friends (not happy that most of them were guys). But she introduced me as her boyfriend, so I was okay. There were a few shocked faces and jokes amongst her group; they often made references to me being the cowboy that finally broke the wild steed.

Naomi and my sister got really close. They even talked on the phone a couple of times a week. I found that a bit curious, but in a good way. It could have been that they were so similar that they just automatically liked each other, but I think that Naomi was the sister that Trina never had and vice versa.

You will probably notice that I mentioned nothing about Naomi's family. When we became close, I noticed that she never talked about them either. When I spoke to her about meeting them, she said that her parents were dead. I asked about siblings and she changed the subject. She clearly didn't want to talk about it, so I was left with no other choice but to drop it. Maybe I shouldn't have. But I was young, happy and in love. Delving into her past didn't seem pertinent enough to disrupt that at the time.

Another decision that shaped our future. Que Sera Sera.

I spent so much time at her apartment that it seemed only logical that we get a place together. At least it seemed only logical to me. She still had that ridiculous need to assert her "freedom" though. She didn't use it to have sex with other guys, but it was always a battle to get her to act like we were a couple. I had to constantly fight with her for the smallest expressions of love and commitment.

I do agree that things were moving pretty fast with us. For Naomi, it was warp speed. It was just that I was so into her that I was all in. She often put the brakes on and told me that we needed to slow down.

I don't know why I was pushing things as hard as I was. I think deep down I was trying to cement my place in her life. We had such a rocky start, and she was so hesitant about moving to the next step that I was a little insecure about where I stood with her.

Not to mention that she was the biggest flirt in history. But I knew that she was faithful. One thing about Naomi was that she was honest about her shit. I questioned her about her interaction with other guys frequently, and she was always upfront with me.

Was he flirting with you? Yes

Did you flirt back? You know I did.

Are you attracted to him? Yes. I think he's hot.

Would you fuck him? If it wouldn't hurt you, yes. In a heartbeat. But I know that it would hurt you, and I wouldn't do that to you.

Also, she rarely said , "I love you". These things always made me doubtful about us.

Remember, I was a perennial victim. Having a victim's mentality doesn't only mean that you tend to blame outside forces for your problems. It also means that you always expect to have problems; therefore, you create a lot of your own issues through self-prophecy.

My insecurity and her reluctance to make progress was a constant source of tension between us. We'd argue time and time again over these things. I'd attempt to move forward, she'd give a little but after a while pull the emergency brake.

I know most of you are wondering, why stay with her? If it's that hard to be together, why not cut your losses and move on?

Well, because it wasn't hard to be together. The stuff I mentioned were the only bad parts of my relationship with her. The good parts? Ah yes, the good parts. She got me in a way that no one besides Trina understood me. It was uncanny how she would always know exactly what I needed without me uttering a word. For instance, there was one time when I was extremely pissed off. I had no idea what made me so irritable. I was snapping at her about little things and I couldn't really figure out why. Finally, without a word, she just left. I was about to call her to apologize, but she returned 15 minutes later with a Snickers bar. I looked at her with a face that was clearly a question mark when she smirked at me said, "Josh, you aren't you when you're hungry". Those of you who have seen a Snickers commercial know what I'm talking about. We laughed for at least 10 minutes over that one. But I realized that she'd figured out that my blood sugar was more than likely dropping. Instead of just telling me to get something to eat, which probably would have started more arguing, she diffused the situation with humor, all the while giving me what I really needed.

That's just one story. There are many. We were good together.

I felt safe with her despite the fact that it would take a natural disaster for her to say those three words to me. However, she showed me in so many ways.

For one, given her "need" for freedom, the fact that she was willing to give it up for me was in itself remarkable. And in case you're wondering, she was faithful. Could she have been lying about it? Sure, anything's possible. But I don't think so. Naomi wasn't the kind of woman who felt like she had to lie about what she did. She'd always been up front with me and told me the truth, whether I liked it or not.

So she gave me no reason to distrust her. For those of you who feel that I shouldn't trust her because of how she was, let me ask you something. Would you want your significant other to judge you by who you are now, or who you were when you weren't together? For someone like me who has a "colorful" sexual past, the answer was easy.

After months of battling with her to get a place with me, I was at my wits end. To my surprise, she finally agreed that we should move in together. By this time I'd known her for a little over a year and a half, though we'd only been an official couple for about 8 months.

It was an adjustment for us, but I really think that the bigger adjustment was on her part. She was so used to being on her own and having her space that it was a real culture shock to be sharing with someone else. But I could tell that she was trying.

I did things to let her know how much I appreciated her, which always made her smile. I was a decent cook, while she was the take out queen, so I occasionally made sure that we ate something that was actually prepared in our kitchen.

Naomi would have episodes where she would get claustrophobic with me around. Everything pissed her off at that point. She'd snap on me about the smallest things; chewing my gum too loudly, laughing at stupid commercials, leaving the toilet seat up. Okay, that last one is apparently a legitimate gripe amongst women, but you get the picture.

I had learned her moods by then, so I knew when she needed space. I learned that the best approach to this was to make myself scarce by hanging out with friends. So I would make up some plans that I "forgot" to tell her about and disappear. She protested for appearances sake, but it was half-hearted.
I would know when she was ready for me to come home. She would call me and complain that I Ieft her there by herself while I went out to have fun with my friends. Of course, this would be hours later. We both knew that she enjoyed it when I left, but instead of saying "thank you" she made it my fault. Her accusations never packed any real venom, and we both knew that this was her way of saying that she missed me. So I let it slide. I would let her know that I was on my way home and apologize for "being so selfish".

She made sure to punish me repeatedly for my thoughtlessness.

I asked her to marry me when we were walking in the park one day. I made it sound like some off the wall suggestion. She stopped walking, looked at me and said, "No."

My heart broke, but I tried not to show it. I pretended like it was just a suggestion and tried to change the subject and start walking again, but she grabbed my arm.

"I said no because you weren't really asking me. When you are serious about proposing to me, you will buy a ring, make some extravagant subterfuge to throw me off, and then surprise me in front of dozens of other people by dropping to your knee."

"Will you say yes?"

She pretended to think about it. "I don't know. I guess you'll just have to ask to find out."

So it came as no surprise when I dropped down to one knee at a Christmas party held at my parents' house and asked her to be my wife. In case you're wondering, she said yes.


THE PRESENT - September 2015

For the first time in days, I feel the urge to get out of my sister's basement. I look at my half eaten, soggy sandwich and my stomach growls. The fact that I actually think about finishing it makes me realize that I am hungrier than I thought.

It's around midnight, so I silently creep upstairs to see what I can find in my sister's fridge. As I nimbly make my way into the kitchen, I hear something that makes me pause. My body stops moving as I perk my ears to recognize the noise. I hear it again. It sounds familiar, yet foreign. Oh fuck! It's a moan.

Slowly, stealthily, I take baby ninja steps towards the sound. As I turn the corner, I almost lose what little I have on my stomach.

Right there, on her living room couch, my sister is getting ploughed by a muscular ass. I can't really see her fully. All I see of her is her socked feet above his shoulders, and her small hands on his thighs. He is standing with his legs apart for leverage, so I also get the added view of his dick savagely invading her as his balls bounce off of her. The lewd sound of wet, slapping skin fills my ears.

"Fuck me Jerry! Make me take that dick!"

I stand immobilized. It isn't eroticism that keeps me there; after all, she's my sister! It is pure shock.

She finally opens her eyes and sees me. She has a moment of that Exploding Noema Syndrome that I mentioned earlier. That moment passes quickly though, and she launches Jerry off of her.

"Oh my God! What the fuck! Josh! Get out of here!"

My mind and body are on two different wavelengths. I try to scramble out of there, but trip several times before getting my footing. Once I'm safe in the confines of the basement, my mind replays everything that I saw. Much to my chagrin.

Above me, I hear frantic movement across the floor, which by my guess is them hurriedly getting dressed. When it calms down, I figure that it's time to face the music and get this inevitable awkward encounter over with. Time isn't going to make it any less uncomfortable.

"Are you guys decent?" I yell out as I open the basement door. I have to make myself stop from laughing when I hear my sister's embarrassed voice answer me in the affirmative.

I lose the battle of not laughing when I enter the living room and see them sitting on the couch with a gap between them big enough to fit me in. That is funny enough, but upon further inspection, I see the reason why. There is a big wet spot on the cushion that they are avoiding.

"If you guys don't mind, I'll be sitting over here. You know, where it's dry." I say, pointing to chair across the room. Trina covers her face in embarrassment. I know that I shouldn't enjoy this as much as I am, but this is the first real laugh that I'd had in a week.

"How's it hanging Jerry?" I joke. My sister looks like she is ready to pass out.

"What do you want Josh?" She quickly interjects, not even giving Jerry a chance to answer my obvious set up. Her voice is stern, but with her cheeks are flushed. Her normal assertive Trina-like demeanor is gone. I rarely see her like this, so it's a real treat for me.

"I just came up here to get something to eat sis. Don't want my sugar to get too low. You did make a promise you know." I smirk at her, still enjoying the discomfort that she is feeling.

Trina glowers at me with a look that should have shot lasers through me. My feigned innocent expression does nothing but antagonize her. As it is supposed to.

For some odd reason, the happy couple just aren't in the mood for loving anymore. They say their goodbyes and Jerry finally leaves, giving my sister a peck on the lips.

Gee, I hope it wasn't something I said.

As I watch the exchange between them, I am struck by the way Jerry looks at Trina. It is very reminiscent to the way another man had looked at her once upon a time. The way I looked at Naomi before all of this. Like nothing else matters.

"Good seeing you Jerry." I shout as he makes his way out the door. By now he is less embarrassed about the situation. My sister is still unable to look me in the eyes, but Jerry is actually smiling about the whole thing. I guess there are worse things that a guy can get caught doing than fucking the shit out of a pretty girl. He gives me a head nod in response. "Later Josh."

With him gone, Trina shoots daggers into me with her eyes.

"I've been trying to get you out of the basement for days. You pick NOW to get your head out of your ass?"

Irony can be funny. Well, at least to me it is. Trina looks less amused.

"Well, how was I to know that his head was in your ass?"

Her face screws up as she throws something at me. I don't know what it is, but it sails in another direction, missing me completely.

"Ewww. Gross Josh. Do you kiss Henry with that mouth?"

"Do you kiss YOUR kids that that mouth? I'm sure it was just doing worse things than mine."

"Kiss my ass Josh!" Her words don't have any ire in them. In fact, there is a smile creeping on her face, like she is finally conceding to the fact that she was caught with her pants down. Pun intended.

"No thank you. That's Jerry's job." I yell out as she strolls into the kitchen. She returns with two cokes and hands me one. I guess sweaty, raunchy sex can build up a thirst. After a couple of sips she gives me a serious smile.

"I am glad to see you up and at 'em."

"Yeah. I may have to fight the urge to stick a rusty fork in my eyes, but other than that I feel better. Well, as good as I could feel with a wife who fucks other people."

She nods sympathetically and takes another sip. "You gonna talk to her?"

The only response I can give is a shrug of my shoulders. Things get awkwardly quiet for a moment until I ask, "What's it like sis, you know, with him gone?"

By "him" I was referring to her late husband and my niece's and nephew's father. Carlos was a cop who was shot in the line of duty while doing a routine traffic stop. He didn't realize that the beat down Honda that he pulled over for speeding was stolen and had a trunk full of drugs with a driver on his third strike.

"Lonely. Fucking lonely." Now it's my turn to nod.

"Do you ever get over it?"

She sadly shakes her head. "No. Never. Especially when little Carlos looks so much like him. There isn't a day that goes by that something doesn't remind me of him. I used to play this game with myself where I try to imagine what Carlos would do or say when the kids did something good like come home with a good grade or something bad like rub bubble gum in each other's hair."

I selfishly start thinking about what my life would look like without Naomi in it. I don't like the empty void feeling that follows that thought.

"Does Jerry help?"

She gives me a slight laugh and she looks up dreamily. "Jerry's great. He helps. He's funny, sexy as hell, and really sweet. But he's not Carlos."

I have to agree with her on that. Carlos was one of a kind.

Trina worked for the DA's office when she met him. Still does in fact. Carlos Senior, my late brother in law, had the hots for her from the moment he saw her. He often joked that the first time he saw her ass in a fitted pleated skirt he knew he would marry her.

He pursued her big time. He would drive up to the office a few times a week when he was patrolling just to ask her out. He wasn't even subtle about it. She turned him down on almost a daily basis. At first.

As time went on, it became a cat and mouse game. Carlos kept coming back, bringing flowers, leaving notes on her windshield, waiting by her car for her to get off work. He even found out her telephone number and her address (wouldn't be much of a cop if he couldn't). He just would not quit. I believe that my sister fell for him long before she finally gave in and went out with him, but she just got a kick out of him chasing her. She acted annoyed by his pursuit, but she could have stopped him if she REALLY wanted to. When she finally did accept his invitation to dinner "just to shut him up" he told her that she would never regret that decision. Until he got shot, she never did.

When she got that distressing phone call, little Carlos was one years old and she was 8 months pregnant with Callie. When she gave birth, Carlos' death amplified her postpartum depression. All she wanted to do was sleep. She didn't clean the house. She didn't take a shower. She just slept. If it wasn't for my mother stepping in and practically living there for months, I'm not certain that Carlos and Callie would still be with her.

Carlos was like a big brother to me. I looked up to him. He had this aura of confidence about him that just drew you in. He wasn't what most people would consider tall, dark, and handsome. He had a rough look to him. But he was funny as hell and could charm the pants off of...well, my sister. There was just this way that he carried himself that made him a natural leader.

Even my parents, who were always judgmental about Trina's decisions, loved Carlos from the moment they met him. It was like he was born to be in our family. That's why his death hit us so hard. Not only were we grieving for Trina, but we also felt the loss. Of course Trina suffered the most. She had two kids , one of whom would never meet her daddy. She had to make funeral arrangements. She had nosy people who constantly wanted to talk about what a shame it was for a cop to get shot doing something so routine, all the while trying to pump her for details on what was happening with the case so that they could run back to the rumor mill with fresh information. It was a long road back for Trina.

She hit rock bottom with depression. Little by little though, I saw my sister crawl her way out of it. When she started dating Jerry, I knew the worst was behind her.

"You are one strong cookie Trina. It takes a lot to hold you down." I say as admirably. She smiles at my compliment before she gets up and makes her way up the stairs to her bedroom. As she passes me she lovingly rubs my head.

I can't just leave it at that sappy moment though.

"Why were you two in the living room? You know that's what bedrooms are for?"

She laughs as she stopped a few steps up. "Cal was having nightmares so she slept in my bed. There's no way to get it on with a 12 year old next to you. I figured that you would still be wallowing in your misery downstairs. Of course, being the true pain in the ass that you are, you can't even do that right. You always have to find a way to ruin my fun."

"You're welcome."

When I hear her bedroom door close, I sit in the silence thinking about my own life. What would life look like if I had to continue without Naomi?

Fucking lonely indeed.


THE PAST January 2007 - March 2010

I would love to say that married life was all that I dreamed it would be, but it really wasn't. We all tend to romanticize what life would be like with our spouse. You know, sex in all parts of the house, intimate nights together, finishing each other's sentences, and whatever other cliché you can think of.

But those of us who are or have been married know the real deal. Those clichés of marriage last for about the first six months to a year. We all know what the term "honeymoon phase" is. Then the warm and fuzzies of love start to wear off and you realize the other realities of life.

Nothing brings this home more vividly than watching your wife take a shit with you in the bathroom. Her foul stink fills the air as you gasp for breath. She, on the other hand, insists on having a deep emotional conversation with you while she is dropping the deuces. When you reach that level, you know the honeymoon phase has passed.

And that's before you put a bun in the oven. Once you fully consummate your wedded bliss with an infant, you are in it for the long haul.

Henry was born in April 2009, just over two years after Naomi and I said I do. He was the most perfect baby that was ever made. Really! I'm not biased when I say that. He really was the best looking baby in the entire world. I saw him in the nursery when Naomi was knocked out after 10 hours of heavy labor. Let me tell you, anyone who says that all babies are beautiful needs to be slapped in the mouth for lying. I looked at a lot of those screwed face crying machines and I knew that they were going to be the target for bullies in the coming years.

When we took Henry home with us, we were scared shitless. Here we had this perfect, precious life that we were responsible for. His future was going to be a direct reflection of us.

Naomi selflessly gave her resignation to her job to become a full time mom. By that time I made enough at my job to support us. Sure we had some major adjustments to make as far as our spending, but all of our bills were covered from my check alone and we still had sufficient money for the other stuff.

Naomi's pregnancy was a very difficult one. She came down with Gestational Diabetes during, so she gained about 80 pounds. She was always lethargic and would run out of breath easily. Just moving from the bedroom to the living room was enough to wear her out. By the time Henry was ready to come, she was begging him to get the fuck out of her.

After he was born, I assumed the weight would go away. It didn't. Her sexy figure seemed to be a thing of the past. She did not take that too well.

My sister and mother tried to make me understand what a hard time she was having, but you are better off teaching music to a monkey. What did I know about post-partum? The only thing that I got out of those discussions was that I needed to be patient with her. They told me that the best thing that I could do was to try to reassure her and tell her that I still found her sexy and enticing. I tried to do that.

The problem was that I didn't find her sexy and enticing. Sounds cruel but true. It wasn't about the extra weight that she put on. It was that her attitude changed with the weight. She was no longer the confident, sassy woman who I met. She was often moody, depressed, and irritable. A lot of time it was no fun being around her.

Life with her wasn't really unpleasant. It was just boring. There was no spark. I still loved her with all of my being, but being away from her was often easier than being with her.

That Christmas, I made the gesture that actually was the first raindrop of the coming storm. I knew that she was having an issue with her weight. I knew that it caused her endless amounts of stress and depression. So, being the loving husband that I am, I bought her a treadmill.

Not sure you know much about women, but apparently I didn't know dick. This gift caused her to run out of the room crying and have my mother and sister stare at me open mouthed like I just set Henry on fire.

"Tell me you aren't really this dumb, Josh?" My sister asked me as my mother left to go console my wife. My dad just sat there with a bewildered look on his face that said he was just as confused as I was.

"I thought it was a good gift." He mumbled as he and Jerry shared a shrug.

"God! Now I know I'm adopted. There's no way I share any genes with you two." She huffed exasperatedly as she stomped off into the direction my mother and Naomi went.

My gift, as thoughtful as I thought it was, reaffirmed my wife's belief that she was unattractive. To her, I was letting her know that I agreed with her by giving her a means to GET ATTRACTIVE. Women. Go figure.

The chaos died down and things returned to normal, but that put a bug in Naomi's ear. Next thing I knew, she'd ordered DVD's teaching you how to get in shape, started watching the cooking network to learn how to prepare healthy foods, and joined Jerry's gym with him taking her on as a client.

I guess I haven't really mentioned Jerry much at this point, except to say that he was Carlos' replacement. Well, that's not fair to either of them. There really is no replacing Carlos. But Jerry was the man that made my sister smile after a long time of pain. He was golden with us.

He was a part time personal trainer at the gym that Trina goes to. He'd met her when she was still married to Carlos. He hit on her, as did a lot of the other guys, but she made it clear that she was in love with her husband, who was a cop. For some reason, guys back off instantly when they hear that part. Smart guys do, anyway. Probably scared of the gun.

Well, after Carlos' death, when she tried to move forward with her life, she began to work out with vigor. It helped her forget. She was having trouble sleeping with Carlos' spot empty, so she worked her body to exhaustion until she could no longer stay awake.

Jerry stayed clear for a while, as he knew what had happened to her husband. After a while the two of them began talking. Being that he was shut down previously and considering her recent loss, this time he didn't hit on her. He just talked with her. I don't know what he said to turn the tide in his favor, but I know that one day she surprised him by asking him to come over her house when the kids were being babysat by my mom. He came there expecting to go out on a date, but she dragged him inside and practically raped him. Repeatedly.

So they started off as friends with benefits. In Trina's mind, they stayed that way, though I think that she's seriously deluding herself. He spends time with the kids a few times a week, he comes to all of our family functions, neither of them are seeing anyone else, and my parents are fond of him. I actually think that my mother secretly lusts after him, as I see her silently appraising him every time he lifts something heavy. But that is just conjecture on my part.

The only thing that even hints of friends with benefits is the fact that she refuses to move in with him or allow him to move in with her. By the time my son Henry was born, they'd been - whatever they are - for about 3 years. Callie was 5 and little Carlos was 7. Little Carlos vaguely remembered his daddy (he was only 1 so his memories are mostly stories that he heard about his daddy), and Callie never knew him. Jerry was all they knew. Hell, they called him "uncle Jerry".

It was at this time that he brought up the subject of moving in together. She flat out said no. She said that she was not remotely ready to move another man into Carlos' home, nor was she entertaining the idea of leaving it behind. She said he could either deal with it or stop calling. So he backed off.
Anyways, Jerry worked with Naomi 3 times a week, though she went to the gym every day. He also helped her come up with a meal plan that worked better for her.

As the months went by, the pounds came off. It seemed like every time the number on the scale changed, a little bit of the old Naomi came back to us. She became more vibrant. She was sexy. Most of all, her confidence was returning.

Then, one day, she called me at work. I thought something was wrong because she hardly ever called me during the day. She told me that I needed to hurry home.

Panic had me breaking the sound barrier as I pulled into my garage. When I busted through the front door, I was greeted by a wife wearing the sexiest lingerie I'd seen her wear in a long while. I definitely noticed the difference in her body. While she wasn't like she was when I first met her, she was miles from where she'd been after Henry's birth.

We fucked right there on the living room floor. Then the kitchen table. Unfortunately, I ruined her lingerie as I removed it from her body a little too "impatiently".

Later on that night, I was unable to wipe the goofy grin off of my face. Neither was she. We just kept passing these secret looks to each other as Henry seemed oblivious. Once in bed, I asked her about my good fortune.

"What brought that on?"

"Did you like it?"

"Hell yeah!"

She flashed an appreciative smile that let me know that she was happy that she pleased me. She was still having a little trouble with her confidence, so me being turned on by her was a big ego boost. But I was about to find out that I wasn't the only reason that she was getting her groove back.

"Please don't get mad when I tell you this. Jerry told me not to say anything, but I've never lied to you and I won't start now."

This raised my alarm. "What happened?"

She got an uncertain look on her face as she said, "Some guy hit on me today."

Immediately, my jealousy burned. I knew she saw it in my eyes, because she started talking quickly.

"It wasn't anything really Josh. He just told me that I looked hot and that he would really like to take me out."

This did nothing to reduce my jealousy.

"And what did you say?" I asked, perhaps a little too accusingly. She shrank back and looked a little hurt.

"I didn't say anything Josh. I didn't have to. By then Jerry approached the guy and told him that I was a very good friend who was also the wife of another close friend. He said that he takes it as a personal slap to his face when people bother his friends. He hates getting slapped. It makes him angry and causes him to do rash things. Rash, violent things. The guy slinked away so fast I thought Jerry had vaporized him."

Did I mention what a great guy Jerry is?

I still sat there sulking. The memory of this great afternoon was blown to pieces. Naomi snuggled up to me and started rubbing my chest to comfort me.

"Josh, you have no reason to be jealous. I had no inclination to go out with that guy. Honest. I was just so turned on by the fact that someone actually found me attractive. It made me feel pretty again. I needed your dick inside of me."

This did calm me down some and I allowed her to snuggle me.

"If you weren't married to me would you have gone out with him?"

She thought for a moment and I felt her shaking her head on my chest. "No. He wasn't really my type. But it did feel good to at least have some guy ask."

That put the matter to rest and we both drifted off into a slumber.


BACK TO THE PRESENT - September 2015

The next morning, after I stumbled upon my sister giving it up so eagerly to her "not boyfriend" I decide that it's time that I return to work. I'd used up all of my sick days and then took some personal days, so it was time to get back to the world.

Being back among the living is very refreshing. After only seeing the walls in the basement and having no encounter with any humans besides my sister and her kids (and Jerry of course, but I'd blocked that out), I find that I practically absorb the energy of others and feel a little revitalized.

Tom, who is my closest colleague at work, catches me up on the trouble calls that were done in my absence and what was done to fix them. He also shows me what maintenance and repairs are still open tickets, and the time timeframe that we are expected to complete them in. He even made out a spreadsheet of what needs to be done on what day. Once he is finished giving me the low down he welcomes me back and we get to work.

I like working with Tom. I don't like him as a person in particular. Its not that I dislike him, per se, it's just that he has little personality. For him, it's all business all the time. I know nothing of his personal life, and he stays clear of mine's. Even now, when I'd been gone an entire week, he makes no reference to it. He just kept things going until I got back, and lets me know what I missed. While we may never go out and get a beer together, as far as work goes we are a well-oiled machine.

So I dive head first into work. How cliché is that? The poor cheated husband drowns himself in work so that he can forget his troubles with the missus. Well, it's a cliché because it works.

Before I knew it, the sun had set and Tom was biding me a good night as he heads out. I hadn't even eaten lunch. Damn, Naomi would kill me if she found that out.

I kick myself for thinking about her. Who cares what she wants?

When I make it to my car and start the engine, I just sit there. Suddenly, I am confused about where I'm going. Am I going back to my sister's house, or should I head for home and face the inevitable. When I was hiding out in Trina's basement, it was easy. Now, being out in the world, I am forced to think about my life and what needs to be done.

When you are done being the victim, maybe you can get off your ass and out of my basement and take your life back.

Trina's voice breaks through my subconscious loud and clear. She'd spoken these words to me last night as I wallowed in my shit. They hurt at the time, but now the wisdom packed into them give me pause.

Suddenly, my decision is easy. No longer a debate, I pull out of the parking lot and make my way home.


THE PAST - March through July 2010

After that unexpected sexual bout with my wife, I was looking forward to more wonderful adventures. Unfortunately, things returned to the humdrum way that they were before that. Naomi continued to work out with Jerry and was still getting results, but the fire of that day hadn't resurfaced. Sure we had sex occasionally, but it wasn't how it had been. Naomi rarely (okay, pretty much never) initiated, and the Olympian performances of our "pre Henry" days were a distant memory (that amazing day with the lingerie being the notable exception).

Since I knew that the ignition source for that explosion of sexual desire was the lust of an admirer, I tried to use that to spark something similar. I asked her if anybody else hit on her lately. She laughed and said that Jerry pretty much scared the shit out of that guy, and therefore set an example. Men went out of their way to stay clear of her, even when Jerry wasn't there. She didn't sound disappointed by this, but there was a certain lack luster way that she spoke about it that made me sad.

I wanted my wife back. I hadn't totally realized that anything was missing in our marriage until she attacked me that day. After that, I yearned for a return to that. I mean, I knew that our situation wasn't the same as it had been before Henry, but we all live life gradually and learn new realities without knowing that we did. Then, something happens and we realize that things had changed without our noticing. That had happened to me. To us.

The key to getting her back to that was to make her feel sexy again. The old Naomi was confident in herself. Remember, I told you that she was sexy and she knew it. Her knowing it was very important to her being sexy. It was a symbiotic relationship of sorts. She knew that men wanted her and that affected how she acted. She never really sought out attention from guys, but she knew that she would get it nonetheless. It became one of those things that just happened because she was so sexy. Now, she used that as a barometer to how sexy she was.

So I set out in my campaign to make my wife feel sexy. I started groping her whenever I passed her. She was shocked at first and didn't know how to handle it. A few times she even asked me if I was feeling okay.

"I just can't keep my hands off of my wife's sexy new body!"

You know what? It worked! She began to get into the flow of it. She would bend down a few seconds longer when she was looking for something in the fridge, or stick her chest out a little bit further when she was reaching over my head to get something. There were times when we did everything short of drugging Henry to get him to bed early so that we could ravish each other.

Things went on like that, and life at home was fun once again. But we all know that good things cannot last. I started to notice that she was falling into her funk again. My gropes started to irritate her and no longer turned her on. We still had sex, but the wild sex that I'd grown to enjoy started to become sparse.

One night when we were laying down in bed I looked over at her reading a book. My eyes scanned her like they did every night and I admired her. Her legs were getting some tone in them, and her waist was looking really trim. I noticed some definition in her arms. She was really hot! But when I got to her face, all I saw was sadness.

"Sweetie, can I ask you something?"

She looked at me and laid her book down on her lap. "Sure honey."

"Are you happy?"

She looked confused for a second and asked, "Why do you ask that? Of course I am."

"It doesn't seem like it."

Now she put her book off to the side and scooted down on the bed until she was face to face with me.

"Why do you say that Josh? "

"I don't know Na. You just seem so far away from me. Ever since Henry was born you just don't seem like the happy fun loving Naomi that I married."

For some reason this put her on the defensive. On a side note, in the book of things not to say to somebody who has had a baby 15 months prior, please include this.

"Of course not Josh. The Naomi that you married didn't have a kid with her all day. The Naomi that you knew had a job and people to interact with. Of course she was 'fun loving'."

Now it was my turn to get defensive. "So it's my fault? Is that what you're saying?"

Her face softened and she rubbed my arm. "No sweetie. It isn't anyone's fault. It's just life." She kissed me on the cheek to reassure me and rolled over to get some sleep, but my mind was moving. My wife was unhappy, and I couldn't stand it. Worse still, there was nothing I could do to help her.

After a few minutes of silence, I said, "Why don't you go back to work?"


"You say that you were happier when you were working and didn't have to take care of a kid all day. What if you went back to work?"

Now she rolled over to face me again. "Who would watch Henry?" I noticed that she didn't reject the idea.

"I'm sure we can find a baby sitter. My mother is always complaining that she doesn't see him enough. If we put our minds to it I'm sure that we could figure something out."

She seemed to perk up a bit. "I haven't worked in a year and a half Josh. Who would hire me?"

"You aren't going to find out until you start looking."

We talked for hours about how we would go about this. The more excited she became, the happier I became. By the time we dozed off, it was a forgone conclusion that we'd begun "Operation Get Naomi a Job".

Over the next few weeks Naomi was on a mission. She'd updated her resume and talked to several headhunters. There was a little disappointment when she asked her old job if they had any openings and they told her no, but she was not to be denied. A minor bump in the road.

Before my eyes, I saw the spark returning. I knew I made the right suggestion when I watched how she glowed. She didn't even have a job at this time and she was practically floating. This vibrancy hadn't translated to the bedroom yet, but that was okay for now. I knew that the uninhibited Naomi of the past was just brimming beneath the surface. I just had to be patient and wait for her to emerge.

In our initial exuberance, we overlooked the fact that the economy was still reeling from the great recession and jobs were hardly abundant. The reality of our country's crisis became a real thing to us.

Frustration started to set in a couple of months later when she was still unemployed. She'd been on 4 interviews by then, one of them coming down between her and another woman. When they chose her instead of Naomi I came home to an irritable wife who all but bit my head off at the slightest word. She apologized later, but I was beginning to worry.

Her workouts continued, and by now she had a body that easily rivaled Mel's (don't tell her I said that). I was in a constant state of horniness whenever I saw the slightest bit of skin on her fabulous body. We were having some sex, but it was uninspired. She hardly ever had a big orgasm. It wasn't like she was a cold fish. She responded to me and I could see that she enjoyed our time together, but she never had any of the body convulsing explosions that she used to have. They were the kind where she would clinch up and moan, but hardly ever make any sounds in the decibel range that she used to.

When I asked her about it, she would let me know that she enjoyed our sex just fine. We weren't those two young uninhibited people anymore. People grow up and relationships evolve. The important thing was that we were together and loved each other. All of the other stuff was superfluous.

No matter what she said, I was not comforted. In fact, this broke my heart even more. It was like she'd given up. She didn't even act like she missed it. I think that Naomi was in a form of denial.

My sister got the idea that Jerry should talk to the people at the gym to see if they needed a female trainer. I gave him some before and after pictures of Naomi to show. Once they saw her transformation, they were practically begging her.

She would be working on the days that Jerry did not. This would end their time working out together, but he'd stop being her trainer long ago. They enjoyed their time together, as they'd gotten to be friends.

The first few weeks she worked, nothing changed. She was happier and more vibrant, but in the bedroom things remained the same. That is until the day she called me at work and told me to hurry home. Déjà vu.

She didn't even bother with the lingerie this time. That just saved us some money and made it easier for us to get started, though my clothes seemed to be fastened a bit too securely. Once again, we tried to fuck each other into unconsciousness. When we were done, we were nothing more than a pile of sweaty flesh.

"Who hit on you today?"

The question just came out. Surprisingly though, I wasn't even jealous. It was more curiosity than anything. She seemed hesitant at first, but when she saw that I wasn't angry she opened up and told me about a client. She'd been helping him for a couple of weeks and he was grateful. She said that he was very sweet when he asked her out to get some coffee "just to thank her" so she was equally sweet when she turned him down.

This was actually the day of conception for "The Game".


THE PRESENT - September 2015

The engine idles softly like a purring kitten as I sit in my driveway. The trip from the parking lot at work to the doorstep of my house takes 20 minutes without traffic. Seems like a relatively small timeframe, yet it was enough time for my mind to tell me why going to my sister's house to hide out for a couple more days was a viable option.

The problem is not that I'm afraid of Naomi. I'm actually more scared of what I will say or do. I don't want to face the situation that we were in. I don't want to hear her explain it to me. Naomi is a very honest person. If she tells me something, I don't have to wonder what she really means.

If she were a liar or generally an evil bitch, confronting her would have been easy. Hell, she'd already be packed and moved out. The problem I have is that she isn't evil. She isn't a liar. She is one of the most loving people I know. Sure, she can be selfish at times and very controlling, but she would never intentionally do anything that would hurt anybody - especially me. She doesn't say it much, but deep down I know for a fact that she loves me.

My problem is that when I talk to her, I will have to address the fact that I am not a complete innocent victim in all of this. This situation is not a case of the clueless husband versus the narcissistic wife. My time at my sister's house made me realize that we share blame in the status of our marriage.

I can hear the groans. No! It's not your fault! Why does the guy always have to blame himself in these stories? It's the bitch's fault! She cheated! Not you! You are the innocent party!

Trust me, I would love to put the blame completely on her. I so would. That's my nature, as I told you. If this were a StangStar story, I could look forward to the universe dealing out justice to the selfish clueless bitch by elevating my life and making her forever remorseful. If only.

But one thing that separates the victims from the victors is the consciousness that you always have a part to play in your destiny. You are the actor, writer, director, producer, and publisher of your story. Nothing that happens to you just happens. Somewhere down the line, at some time, there was a choice made that set your path in motion. Oh, you may have been unaware of the choice at the time. Or you could have been aware of the POTENTIAL of the danger but felt that you stood a good chance to avoid it. Either way, an act of your own doing sets you towards the consequences.

I turn the key and cut the engine. The silence that ensues lets me know that my choice to do this tonight is no longer just a plan. It's going to happen.

Okay Josh. Time to face the music.

My wife stands in the kitchen with her mouth hanging open as she watches me walk in the front door. I see her blink a few times as if she was trying to make sure that her eyes aren't lying to her. Things seem surreal at the moment.

"Daddy!" Henry's voice pierces through the tension as he sprints over to me. I often find myself amazed at times at how fast those little legs can carry him. He closes the gap between us and launches himself into my arms.

"Hey buddy!" I say as I scoop him up and kiss him. I almost have to kick myself at the thought that I've left him for an entire week with no phone call. It further bothers me that I was actually ready to go a little longer.

Some Dad I am!

Naomi slowly makes her way toward me. Her eyes are filled with both apprehension and relief.

"Hey Josh." She says, trying to sound like all is normal, but the crack in her voice betrays her. She sounds like she is ready to cry. I allow her to approach me and plant a tentative kiss on my lips. I would like to say that I did it for Henry's sake, but that's not being honest. It really feels good to put eyes on my wife again and touch her, no matter how much I want to hate her.

"I was just fixing Henry some dinner. Are you eating with us?"

Her body language is very timid and unsure. The fact that she asked me if I was eating there let me know that she is aware of the fragility of our relationship. That never even used to be a question.
"Yeah. Did you cook enough?"

"Umm, we can make due."

She goes about setting up the food that she has prepared. As our new norm since she had started her journey of self-improvement, we are having a fine, healthy meal. She'd baked chicken breasts (skinless), steamed broccoli and cauliflower, and a made a couple of baked potatoes. She hadn't planned on me coming, so we have to improvise a bit. She'd made extra chicken to take with her to work the next day, so I can eat that. There are always enough vegetables. However, I have to fend for myself on the potato. Luckily, through the wonderful technology that is the microwave, all I need is a few minutes to remedy that.

Its funny how things can turn around in such a short time. At one time Naomi never even set foot in the kitchen long enough to know what color the wallpaper was. Now, she was practically a wiz at fixing full course healthy meals.

As you can imagine, dinner is a somber event, at least where Naomi and I are concerned. Conversation is stilted at best between the two adults. If it wasn't for Henry trying to play games with the broccoli and having Naomi constantly correcting him, there would have been no talking at all.

After dinner is finished and we plant Henry in the living room to be watched by our 52 inch flat screen babysitter, Naomi grabs me by the hand and leads me to the bedroom. Keeping the door cracked so that we can listen out for our child, she sits on the bed and looks up at me with imploring eyes.

"Are you finally going to talk to me?"

For some reason, I feel the need to make this difficult for her. Don't ask me why I have to be a douche bag.

"What's to talk about Naomi? You fucked another guy behind my back, for weeks mind you, despite everything we had set up. You did what you wanted. Period. I've been trying to reawaken the old Naomi for months now. Well, here you are."


"No Naomi. I don't want to hear any of your bullshit about needing freedom, or exploring your wild side again. That's what the game was supposed to do. To give you what you needed without hurting us. I bought into it because deep down, I felt safe that you would always come back to me. Even when the game pushed me past my boundaries, I always had confidence that you loved and respected me. But you know what, my eyes are wide open now. I see you for what you really are."

Her eyes are watering up so badly that tears just stream down her face. Those fucking eyes! God, they kill me!

"And what am I Josh? A whore? Huh? Is that what I am?"

I want to say yes. I want to make her feel like a slut. But I know the truth. She isn't a slut.

"No Naomi. You're not a whore. But sometimes you can be a really selfish bitch."

She at least has the decency not to argue that point, which bodes well for her. Not that she has any leg to stand on, but it surprises me that she accepts that. This should calm me down, but it does the opposite. Her basically admitting it makes it real.

"God damn it Naomi! We had an entire game set up to prevent this shit! I wanted to let you explore your freedom. And I liked it. THE GAME WAS FOR BOTH OF US! FOR BOTH OF US! Now I'm left feeling like a fucking dumbass who can't keep his wife in check."

I'm pacing the room now. I notice her eyes on me, watching every step I take. Her sobs are audible now, but my indignant anger washes out any sympathy I would otherwise feel for her.

"Did you even think about me at all?"

Honestly, she shakes her head. That's my Naomi. Even when a self-serving lie would probably serve her better, she sticks with the truth.

"Why Naomi? Why?"

Her answer is loud gasping sobs. I sit on the bed next to her and listen to her cry her heart out. I don't reach out to her, I just let her get it out.

What is it about this one affair that hurts so bad? Is it the sex? Actually, no. Naomi had been fucking other guys for months now. Not many, but enough. I know about them. It was all apart of the game. We'd actually had fun with it. But this one, this one is different. The thing that set this liaison apart from the rest is the fact that this time it wasn't about the game - OUR game. She fucked this guy on her own accord, throwing away everything that we set up to make this work for us. These two lovebirds had planned rendezvous in which they secretly did God knows what. Despite her love for me, she was willing to do that. What made him so special?

Then, to top it all off, she kept it from me for weeks. She hid it. That was something that she NEVER did before, even when we weren't exclusive. That's the shit flavored icing on this fucked up cake.

"What made him so special Naomi? What was so different about him that separated him from the rest?"

She just shakes her head and continues to sob. I'm running out of gas here. Exhaustion is setting in. A week of barely sleeping but not moving is catching up to me, causing me to be lethargic. I just have one more question though; probably the most important one.

"Naomi, do you love him?"


THE PAST - July 2010 - January 2013

I noticed that my wife was coming home with amorous intent more and more. Her body was better than it'd ever been, and she felt on top of the world. Her confidence was sky high and it showed in every aspect of her life. She had that spark in her eye that I'd desperately missed.

The clothes that she wore to work became sexier and sexier. They weren't slutty or anything like that. Naomi had way too much class to be out there overtly flaunting her assets. They were just yoga pants or shorts that showed her excellent ass, and a sports bra underneath a tank top that was cut off at the waist to show her abs.

By the way she was coming home and victimizing my poor dick I could tell that it was greatly appreciated.

In bed at night, I would always question her about her day. It seemed innocuous enough, but what I was really looking for was details about the many passes that the guys were making at her. Any guy with a hot wife feels some sense of pride that she is wanted by other guys. Even if it is just to say, "I have this and you don't" we men like knowing that we have something that is coveted. There is a big difference between saying "my wife is beautiful to me" and saying "damn my wife is hot" and having everyone else agree. Say what you will, but having a wife who can get any guy she wants and having her choose you instead is extremely powerful.

When I would ask about her day, Naomi knew what I was really asking. Being the vixen that she was, she would drag it out. She'd start telling me about the uninteresting minutia of the gym. It was torture. She'd actually MAKE ME ASK if guys hit on her.

"You sure you wanna know?"

"Yes, I wanna know."

"I don't might get jealous."


"Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you..."

Finally she'd tell me. Her voice would get really low and I'd have to get close to her to hear what she was saying. While she talked, her hand would snake inside of my pants and grab me softly. My breathing would increase as she slowly moved her hand up and down.

Then, she'd slide her body down until she was eye level with my cock, yet she would stare me in the face as she was stroking me. Looking down at her face as she talked and jerked me was intoxicating. I could feel her breath on my shaft as she spoke to me.

Next, she would lick me from balls to tip, all the while looking me straight in my eye. I would want to lean my head back and enjoy it, but I couldn't look away. I was trapped.

The finale would be when she took me in her mouth in between sentences, essentially giving me a blowjob while she told me her story.

"When I was showing him how to do squats..." slurp, slurp "...he purposely stood behind me so that he could look at my ass..." suck, suck "...I could see his eyes roaming over my body in the mirror..." slurp, suck "...then he tried to rub my thighs to see if he could feel the muscle..."

By the time she was finished, I would be ready to spray. But she wouldn't let me.

"Oh no you don't cowboy. I need this thing in me. You don't get to come until momma says you can. Got it?"


Well, momma didn't let me come until she'd had about three screaming orgasms. By the time sunlight peeked through the blinds, we'd probably had 5 hours of sleep between us. Life was good!

It amazed me how turned on I became from her getting hit on. When I look back on it now, I realize that it wasn't really guys coming on to her that got me hot. It was the power that she had over them. Knowing that I had a wife that others wanted made me proud.

Plus, I loved the way it turned her on. The confidence that it gave her spilled into other areas of our lives. She smiled more. The flirty twinkle in her eye was back. She even walked differently. Like an elegant cat, her movements were steady and purposeful. She was a goddess. She was MY goddess.

For a couple of years, things were looking really good. We were really happy. Henry was growing up, we had jobs that we liked, and we were loving and passionate with each other.

The day of conception of the idea of the game started with us using the guys flirting with her at the gym to spark our own desire, but we officially created "The Game" about two and a half years later, on our 6th anniversary. We were at this upscale Italian restaurant. Naomi was really feeling herself because she'd bought a new cocktail dress that hugged her waist, cupped her breasts, and accentuated her toned legs. It was backless, so she didn't have on a bra. I also knew personally that her thong left little to the imagination. All and all, she felt like the goddess that she was.

I noticed that the owner of the restaurant made a point of coming over to our table and personally introducing himself to us. He kissed Naomi's hand and she smiled at him seductively. She was in flirt mode, and he was lost in her power.

Over the course of the evening, I kept an eye on him. He always kept looking in our direction. I somehow doubted that he found me all that captivating, so my only conclusion was that he couldn't take his eyes off of my wife.

This did not escape her attention. She was shooting him flirty glances over my shoulder.

"Honey, that guy keeps looking at me and undressing me with his eyes."

I chuckled. "Really? Whew! I was starting to get nervous. I thought that he was checking me out."

She giggled and threw a napkin at me.

"I bet I can get this meal for free."

I was intrigued. "Really? You think so?"

She smiled at me and nodded, her eyes flashing with excitement. I'm sure my own mirrored hers. I pulled a one dollar bill out of my pocket and placed it in the center of the table.

"That dollar says you can't."

Knowing what a competitive streak she has, I knew that she wouldn't resist. I was right! She was absolutely amped! A playful smile played on her lips as a look of defiance crossed her face. Message received: challenge accepted!

She slowly slid her chair back, got up and sashayed over to him. I saw his eyes light up from across the room when he saw her approaching him. I sat back and watched, sipping my wine.

I don't know what she was saying to him, but I could read the body language. She turned her power on full force. Even from across the room I could see that she was a force to be reckoned with. He was lost in her presence.

Then, he hooked his arm as she grabbed it. The two of them walked towards the back of the restaurant. I began to be alarmed. I was about to get up and go with them, but she shot me a smile over her shoulder as he led her through the doors.

For the next fifteen minutes, I was a whirlwind of emotion. A flurry of questions barraged me. What was happening? Why did they leave? What was she doing back there with him?

My imagination started to run away with me. In my mind's eye, I saw my wife on her knees preparing to wrap her luscious lips around his erect cock. I reeled as I saw her giving him the mother of all blowjobs. I saw his head leaned back, his hands on her crown as she slurped him to conclusion. Oh my god! Would she let him cum in her mouth?

My jealousy raged. My stomach ached. My head spun. I found it difficult to stay seated.

I was curious. I was jealous. I was angry. I was thrilled, I was worried. All at once.

But there was something else too. Yes, I couldn't believe it. I was turned on! No, I didn't have an erection like some school kid. But I was getting hot.

I think the fact that I didn't know what was going on was erotic. I knew that my wife loved me, but I didn't know what lengths she would go through to win the bet. Deep down, I knew that she would never do anything to jeopardize our relationship. Yet, there was that nugget of chance.

That's what had me on the edge of my seat. That chance. That small window of uncertainty.

About fifteen minutes later, the two of them returned just as they'd walked out. As he led her back to the table, I inspected her. Was her hair disheveled? Was her dress on crooked? Was her makeup smudged. I'm not sure what feeling washed over me as I concluded that she looked just as put together as when she'd left. It was a mixture of extreme relief and anticlimactic disappointment. Why would I be disappointed? I certainly didn't want her to sleep with the guy.

"Thank you for the tour of the kitchen Antonio. You have a wonderful restaurant."

"The pleasure was all mine." He said as he kissed her hand. She blushed at his attention.

"And thank you for that recipe. I'll be sure to try it out for my husband."

It was like dousing a hot frying pan in water. I saw him visibly flinch when she mentioned me. Looking slightly disenchanted, he turned to me and gave me a stilted nod, as if he were forced to acknowledge that I was there.

"You have a stunning wife sir. You are truly a lucky guy."

She beamed as I gave him a nod in return. "I know I am. And thank you for giving her that recipe. I'm sure that I'll be enjoying it really soon."

Take that asshole! There was a certain sadistic pleasure that I took watching him walk away as if he were defeated.

"Come along dear. We should get going." She said as she smiled impishly. She gathered her purse and coat as we prepared to leave. Very coyly, she grabbed the dollar from the middle of the table and inspected it like she were checking to see if it was counterfeit. "By the way, Antonio was kind enough to comp our meal."



As usual I want to thank my editor for such a great job that he did. Nonethewiser worked hard helping me wade through a very complicated story. With all of the time changes and flashbacks, it was pretty jumbled in its early stages. He helped me sort through it all and come up with this. He may not have agreed with all of my choices for this story, but he worked hard regardless.

For those who have at least given me the benefit of the doubt and are still with me, I hope you will see that this story is more complex than the average "cuckold" story. I used the cuckold theme as a plot device to get to know the characters, but I didn't want it to consume underlying. Beneath the games that these two play there is real struggle to figure out what is important in love and marriage. Most of us who are married have gone through the setbacks that my couple are going through. You may have handled them differently, but every marriage has to find a way to survive on its own. That is why there are only two people taking vows, not everyone else.

Hopefully you will stick with it until the end. I think that you will be surprised. At least I hope so. Only one way to find out.

Next I have to credit another author. He is a well-known cuckold writer named Xleglover. I had to borrow a plot device that he uses in his stories. Those who are familiar with his tales know "The Game". I needed it because if fit what I wanted my characters to go through. My characters play a different game than his "Mike and Jen", but I still have to give credit where it is due. So there it is.

Thank you for reading.

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