I Got Home Early

I had finished up a job across state early and was getting home a day sooner than expected. I hadn't told my wife just because I'm a little ornery I guess and I wanted to surprise her. Looks like I was the one to get the surprise.

I turned my pickup off of the quiet country road and made my way up the long curved drive to our secluded cabin home. As I reached the side of the cabin where I sometimes temporally park my truck I could see another pickup parked out back in front of my studio. "Who the hell is that," I thought to myself. And why is he parked out back in our private space.

Gears started turning in my brain and two reasons came to mind, one someone is pilfering around my studio and wanting to help themselves to my tools and such and didn't want there to be any chance their truck would be seen from the road. Or, perhaps they were helping themselves to something else. Noticing my wife's car parked in it's usual place, I became concerned that this could be a bad situation, she might be in danger, or something else.

I parked by the side of the cabin, slid out of the cab and made my way to the side door, slipping quietly into the house. No one was around as I made my way through the kitchen and into the living room.

I was definitely getting an uneasy feeling about the situation, something just didn't feel right. The quietness of the house was unnerving, where was my wife, is she alright.

Then, in the intense quietness, I heard a low sound that seemed to be coming from the rear of the house, down the long hallway where our master bedroom was located. It was a soft moaning sound, like someone maybe in pain, or was it more sexual? I began to shift my mood from confused and concerned to defensive and aggressive.

At this point I thought of the little 380 that I always have in my pocket, but that seemed inadequate for the developing situation and retrieved the 9mm that I kept by my recliner.

At this point I should explain why there are guns everywhere in my house. As eluded to earlier, we live in a very secluded rural area in the south. There are lots of wonderful friends and neighbors around us, but unfortunately there are the others too. Druggies and dipshits that would rather steal from their neighbors than work for themselves. There was an incident, not too long ago, where an ass wipe strung out on meth or some shit crashed through a random family's back door with the family in the house. Luckily the ass wipe was addled enough by the crash that the homeowner was able to kick the shit out of him and hold him until the cops got there. It takes a while for the police to arrive way out in the boonies like this so we all take precautions to defend ourselves in an emergency. So I always have a gun in easy reach.

Now back to the story. As I made my way down the hall the moans became louder and more intense. I stopped at the closed bedroom door and listened. "Oh yessss," I heard a breathy woman's voice say. "Oh god," she continued, "Fuck me!"

Well, I guess she's not in pain I thought. I tend to get very calm in intense situations, it just seems that I've always been this way since I nearly killed a person in my teens due to anger. It scared the shit out of me and I swore to never let that happen again.

I listened and could hear the bed springs squeaking along with more moaning, grunting, and other sexual expletives. It's time to put a stop to this shit.

I very quietly turned the door knob and eased the door open. There was my beautiful wife of more years than I care to think about, naked, on her back, her legs spread in the air and some guy laying between them fucking the shit out of her pussy.

It was surreal, I had a hard time processing the reality of the situation. This was the woman that pledged her eternal, undieing loyalty to me. She said there is nothing lower than cheaters and if she ever caught me cheating she would set me on fire in the bed. This situation seemed just a bit hypocritical to me now.

The head board was against the far wall and with them so intently focused on their lust and pleasure, I was able to slip into the room and take a defensive position in the left corner of the room.

Show time! I chambered a round in the Sig, a very distinctive sound that is a real attention getter. The dickhead between my wife's legs suddenly stopped and slowly turned his head towards me. "What's wrong?" my wife asked.

At that point he saw the muzzle pointing at him, his eyes became saucers and his face went ashen white. At that same moment my wife saw me and screamed,"Oh god, no! John, don't!" (Not my real name).

Dickhead began easing off the far side of the bed, holding his hands up in a submissive surrendering position. "Don't shoot, man. I'm sorry!" "Do you think your apology means anything to me right now?" I asked.

My wife had crawled up against the headboard and was hugging pillows around her and staring at nothing. "Please, man. It just happened. I didn't mean to hurt anyone." babbled the dipshit. "Well, I guess you failed miserably at that didn't you?" I replied. "You had best gather your shit and get the hell out of my house while you still can."

He gathered up his clothes and headed toward the door. He paused and turned to my wife, "Laura..." he started to say. I cut him off, "If you say another word to my wife it may very well be the last words you ever say." And his ass was out of there.

I waited a few moments, looking at my wife who seemed somewhat incoherent or even comatosed, until I heard his truck speed away.

"Now what do I do?" I thought to myself. I clicked the safety on the Sig and walked out of the room, leaving my wife in the same state she had been in since she was caught and closing the door behind me. I walked into the kitchen, got a beer from the fridge and went to my recliner in the living room. I settled back, secured the Sig and put it back in it's place and waited to see where my day goes from here.

I clicked on the TV and began watching some documentary about ancient Rome and tried to process what had just happened. After a considerable amount of time, I heard the bedroom door open. Then I heard the hall bathroom door open and water began running in the tub and the door closed.

There was apparently a Roman Empire marathon on The History Channel as I learned all about Hadrian's Wall, Pompeii and now was well into The Colosseum. I had retrieved several beers from the fridge by this point and was feeling relaxed, well briefed on ancient history and, strangely, almost normal.

Then, I heard the bathroom door open. As I waited, my wife slowly emerged from the hallway wearing her heavy robe, her head bowed like a slave girl approaching her master. She crossed the living room in front of me and sat in her matching recliner next to mine. Still looking at the floor, I could see her mouth was pinched in a grimace and her brows were drawn down. She was going for the perfect display of guilt and sorrow and, I might say, was doing a pretty decent job of it.

"I'm sorry." were the first words from her mouth. "You sure didn't look sorry when I walked into the bedroom earlier." I replied. She began to sniffle and sob quietly, "I made a horrible mistake; I didn't mean for this to happen." "You mean getting caught?" I asked. "No!" she barked, "I mean winding up in bed with him." "Really, so it was all just a big mistake?" "Yes," she exclaimed forcefully. "Tell me," I inquired, "Did you suck his dick?" She nodded as she sobbed. "Did he eat your pussy?" I asked. Again she nodded her head. "Well, you sure had a lengthy and involved mistake, didn't you?" Her sobbing turned into full scale blubbering and crying.

The archaeologists were exploring the gladiators quarters just outside the Colosseum and that took me away from the horrible reality of my life for a few seconds. I guess I was looking for anything to help me escape from having to deal with this unimaginable situation.

As I said earlier, my wife was the last person that I would ever expect this from, there was no indication of her being unfaithful that I had ever noticed. I guess most cheated on men say that. Given our ages and length of our marriage I thought I had escaped this situation, I guess not.

"How long has this been going on?" I asked. She actually side eyed me with an expression of, how could you ask that. "No... No! This was the only time I have EVER done anything like this." "Forgive me if I doubt your sincerity." I replied. "John, I love you, I always have and I always will!" she exclaimed. "Funny way of showing it." I thought to myself.

"So, who is that guy and how did this happen.... and I want specific details?" I asked. "His name is Allen, he's a professor at the university." she replied. My wife teaches a few classes at a nearby university. "Allen's classroom is near mine and he stops by a lot to discuss curriculum and things going on at the university. He sometimes flirts with me and it made me feel attractive that a young, good looking guy was flirting with me. Today we had a social departmental meeting off campus at the Mexican restaurant and I ordered a small margarita. Allen teased me that I deserved the jumbo size and told the waiter to bring it to me on his tab, I started to protest but the waiter was gone.

A few minutes later an enormous margarita was set in front of me and everyone laughed and applauded. We all proceeded to talk and laugh and have a good time. I sipped on the drink and among all of the talking and laughing I didn't realize that by the end of the meeting I had drank the whole thing. I think they had mixed it extra strong because when I stood up I realized I was a bit tipsy.

Allen caught me and steadied me on my feet." "Damn Laura, I didn't mean to get you drunk." he said. "I'm OK." I lied. "I need to get home." "If you're going to drive home I'm going to follow you to make sure you get there. Take it slow and easy and I'll be right behind you." "OK," I said, "That's sweet of you.

As I stepped out into the fresh air, I seemed to straighten up a little and I got home with no problem. Allen pulled around back next to the garage and got out to make sure I got into the house alright. It seemed as though I had some kind of relapse as I walked into the house because I stumbled and weaved, Allen caught me and helped me into the kitchen. There we stood, me drunk and in the arms of another man and my husband away on business. I giggled at the absurdity of the situation. Allen asked why I was giggling and because of the alcohol. I told him." He turned to face me and wrapped his arms around me, bent down and kissed me on my lips, a deep passionate lingering kiss, his tongue flickering in my mouth." "A bit too much information. Laura, you're not helping your situation you know." I firmly stated. "I'm sorry, John, but that's what happened, it was a mixture of the alcohol, the situation and my weakness that led us to the bedroom." she replied.

"And you did it all, what about your asshole, did he fuck that too?" I asked. "No." was her quick reply. And then there was a long silence. Laura has always swore that she has not been with another man since she met me. So much for that track record.

"What am I going to do?" I thought to myself. "What are you going to do?" Laura quietly asked. She had always been the better half of me, I was not complete without her. She was my best friend, my partner in life, my lover, my everything. And she had betrayed me. I guess that is gone forever.

At that moment, Laura jumped up spun around to me, dropped to her knees and buried her face in my chest, "Please. Please, please forgive me! I love you, I can't imagine life without you. I was stupid and weak and made the worst mistake I could ever make. I'll do anything to make it up to you!" She blubbered to me.

"Oh shit," I thought as I felt my heart struggling with my mind. She is my love and my life, the very essence of my soul and she is hurting, I can't bare that. I wrapped my arms around her and rested my cheek on her head as she sobbed. She slid her arms around me and squeezed me tightly as the sobbing lessened.

"I will never forget the sight of another man between my wife's legs fucking the shit out of her. Nor will I forget hearing my wife begging another man to fuck her," I stated. And she started sobbing louder, again. "But I do love you and always will and, after all of these years, I can't imagine my life without you.

She seemed to hold her breath for a moment. "I don't want to be without you, but we can never be what we were," I began, "but, if you want, we can try to move forward from here. Take it a day at a time and try to rebuild what we once had." She raised her head to face me, her red, blood shot eyes gazing into my soul. "If you can eventually forgive me, John, I swear on my life, I will work every day to make this up to you."

Maybe I'm a fool, but love makes us do crazy things. I have loved this woman since I first met her as a seventeen year old high school girl. She is my life and she is worth giving her a second chance.

The archaeologists were finishing up with the Colosseum, I wonder where we were going next as I hugged my beloved wife.