Payback Pt. 01

I parked in our driveway, as I was getting out of my car I saw my sexy wife Ruth jogging towards me.

I waited by the back bumper for her, her wavy straw blonde hair flowing behind her, braless boobs bouncing; as she got closer, I could see her face light up, her smile broaden, but what really caught my attention was her erect nipples ... that proved how happy she was to see me.

I set down my computer bag, "Hello hon." I opened my arms.

She put her arms around my neck, as mine went around her waist, I lifted and twirled her as we kissed, I set her down. "You're a bit sweaty."

She giggled her big blue eyes gazing seductively up at me,

"I went for a run." She picked up my computer bag.

"I'll get you a beer, you sit on the deck, and I'll quickly shower." I patted her behind as I followed her inside.

"I'll join you; I like getting into those hard-to-reach places."

"Brock, I'm rather tired, I had hard day ... errands ... housework" she kissed my cheek then moved toward the bathroom, "Can we order in? I've been so busy all day."

"Sure hon, what would you like?"

No reply she was closing the bathroom door.

I nodded, but something about this seemed off, this really isn't like Ruth at all.

I removed my suitcoat and tie, got a cold beer, went to the deck.

I shrugged it off as stress of her day; everyone can have an off day.

I admit, I was put off, I'd been anticipating our usual sexually intimate Friday evening. Ruth had never turned down sex on a Friday... that was our tradition, so to speak.

Our Fridays had become special; a home cooked meal, wine, movie night, cuddle on the couch, usually leading to intimate sex whether right there on the sofa, on the floor, or a fun, giggling chase into the bedroom.

As I sipped the cold beer, confusion turned to a feeling of gratitude to my life.

I wondered if she was just changing things up, brushed me off playing hard to get; should I strip off my clothes and join her, lift her arms above her head and take her passionately, forget about supper for an hour or two.

The thought aroused me, I dismissed it though, she really did seem to want me to leave her alone.

BUT ... it's Friday, our time, I chugged my beer, gazing across our back yard, I had to justify that nagging feeling in my gut. That uneasy feeling of suspicion; something didn't seem right.

Why wasn't she home? She always makes supper on Fridays; never turned down intimacy.

Then my arrival home scenario hit me, why hadn't I seen her running as I drove down the street on my way home, I dismissed the thought, maybe something had me looking the other way.

Then another WTF thought; why on a Friday, how strange for her to leave the house to go for a run in a dress and sandals ... and braless, none of that added up; but my mind disregarded it all as paranoia. Yet everything seemed slightly tilted.

That beer went down fast, I got another, thinking about what Ruth might prefer for supper.

Ruth worked 10 hours 4 days a week as a data entry programmer at an insurance company, had Fridays and weekends off. I worked 8 - 4 weekdays as a research analyst for a large law firm.

When Ruth came through the patio doors, holding out a replacement cold beer, my arm went around her waist, I playfully pulled her to my lap, "I know what I want for dessert, been thinking about your sexy body all day."

I thought it unusual she was wearing a jogging suit now, and a dress earlier when she was running.

My fingers ran up her thigh, I used my teeth to tug down the zipper on the front of the jogging jacket. I nestled my face in her cleavage, a gentle motorboat on the soft warm flesh, she put her fingers in my hair, and I nibbled until her nipple was erect.

Ruth tipped my head up for a French kiss.

As she pulled back. "I'm starving, did you order?"

"No, but I know what I want to eat." My mouth returned to the protruding nub, and my forefinger rubbed her camel toe.

Ruth twisted away, pulled her phone from her waistband,

"I'd like Mexican," She tapped the keys on her cell phone, as she walked away.

I felt like I'd been slapped in the face, HARD. Ruth never turned down my sexual advances before, never ... and on a Friday the one day we've always been promiscuous.

I sat stunned as she chatted on her phone; in my mind a beast reared its ugly head, a grotesque demonic dragon, shot fire and screamed, 'she cheated' and for the first time in my life the thought of Ruth cheating on me was raised, but based on her behavior today, it was the only thing that made sense.

I felt like throwing up, the love of my life, all we'd accomplished over the years, why would she throw it away; I couldn't wrap my head around that; surely there must be another explanation.

I sensed a shift in our Friday night connection, undistinguishable but there like a dense fog. I was second guessing everything I thought I should say or do, so I waited for her to initiate anything, nothing she seemed content to be alone in her own world; any attempt I made to be intimate was thwarted.

We were silent, like the air was heavy, too thick to speak. We'd always had something to share, our conversations were always easy, especially on Fridays.

The silence was deafening and scary; the distance between us might as well have been an ocean.

{Oh Ruth, please say it isn't so.'}

I set the takeout on the coffee table; Ruth returned from the kitchen with plates and utensils.

Ruth didn't sit beside me on the sofa after filling her plate, which further fueled my sickening concerns.

She put down her plate to read a text, she never placed importance on her phone before.

Giggling, she tapped the keys, replying to a text. Ruth noticed my expression and offered an explanation.

"Oh, Mary just sent me a cute doggy video." Ruth giggled often during the several minutes they communicated.

I finished eating, I took the containers and dishes to the kitchen, Ruth remained enthralled with her cell phone, like a teen with a high school dance approaching.

I returned to the sofa, with a bottle of wine and 2 glasses, I worked the corkscrew, Ruth put down her phone, "Why don't you invite the guys over to watch the game tomorrow? A few girls from work wanna have a girl's night, a few drinks, just a fun evening of bonding with coworkers at the bar."

Again, I was suspicious, something seemed more than just a bit off at this suggestion; her delivery, the way her voice quivered, the lack of eye contact when she presented it.

I poured the wine, thinking, doubting her, maybe I'm reading too much into it; why have I instantly lost trust with my wife?

BUT... my gut was knotted with an unfamiliar ache.

The timing? Like isn't a night out with coworkers planned in advance to allow people to make arrangements? This spontaneous get together with coworkers was just planned now? on their day off? ... for the very next day, not next week? My Spidey senses tingled, I wanted to grab her phone and assure myself she was being truthful.

Today had too many subtle behavior nuances, but nothing about her behavior sat right in my gut, my curiosity piqued, my mind went to the dark side and suspicious paranoia was forefront.

The evening was tense, unlike any before. What little that was said was non emotional and without any intimacy, like BFF's small talk, not partners, not a married couple, not like lovers.

Ruth went to bed like any other night; not like a 'Friday night.'

We cuddled briefly, she kissed me, turned, snuggle bummed me and went to sleep.

I felt like crying as I believed my world as I knew it was crumbling.

I lay in the dark, struggling, my mind replaying today, nothing added up with any reason other than she cheated.

Had I been missing the signs of our marriage failing.

I had my suspicions a few times over the years but ... maybe I ignored the real signs. I hear all the time about wives cheating because they feel ignored, and when someone else pays them the special attention they seek, the lines of morals and marriage vows and values blur; then innocently, slowly they get justified and crossed.

I continually made certain to not let that happen to my relationship, I was attentive to Ruth, listened attentively, we dated, we often role played to keep it spicy and interesting, we had our Friday nights, we had a strong relationship ... didn't we?

That ominous doubt loomed large.

I tightened my embrace on Ruth, nuzzled her neck, I needed to feel her warmth for my pacification.

I ran through the inventory of our years together. We made love 2 or 3 times a week, we had weekly date nights, I was always attentive, conscientious, our conversations were open, honest. I always devoted myself to understanding and discussing her feelings and always put her first. I felt confident I was better than most husbands; today's actions, tonight's behavior, just didn't make sense. If she did have a weak moment and cheated, she could admit it; we could survive it.

I let Ruth sleep in, hoping it was just stress of a bad day, and we'd make up for last night by staying in bed all morning.

I made waffles, sausages, coffee, and squeezed fresh orange juice, I woke her by brushing a few blonde locks behind her ear and a light kiss on her cheek.

"Made you breakfast in bed, sweety." Ruth stretched, yawned, fluffed her pillows, and leaned back half sitting against the headboard, adjusted the covers.

I set the tray on her lap.

"This is nice, Brock, did I forget an important date?" She grinned and picked up her coffee.

"No, I just wanted to show I still love you, nothing special."

She smiled cut a sausage, cut a waffle, skewered them, and put them in her mouth nodding.

She ate silently.

I was expecting more, at minimum a hearty thank-you.

The plate empty, she set it aside.

"I gotta pee," she flipped the covers aside swung her legs out and hastily trotted to the bathroom.

I sat, waiting, hoping when she returns, she'll allow me to be promiscuous and last night can be forgotten.

Ruth returned, went directly to her closet, picked a bright, flowery summer frock, and took it to the bathroom.

Ruth was never shy, always teasingly dressed in front of me.

Was she intentionally avoiding me?

Damn that nagging monster, 'Ruth's cheating' resonated yet again.

'Another indication your marriage is over.'

I took the tray to the kitchen, my heart hurting.

Should I confront her? Tell her we can work through this.

All day, Ruth either ignored my advances or brushed them aside with uninterested comments. What happened to my Ruth? We'd never gone 3 days without making love, and certainly never 2 days in a row without intimacy, especially a Friday and the weekend.

I spent most of the day sipping beer on the deck, accepting the fact Ruth cheated.

I pondered what to do next, deciding if I confront her, wait to see if it was a one-time thing, or ignore it and continue on as if I don't care. If she admits it, can I forgive and move on, or will jealousy always be there?

I BBQed some ribs for supper. Ruth was once again obsessed with her phone.

I was loading the dishwasher when Ruth appeared, "I'm heading out for the night with the girls."

I turned, wiped my hands. Ruth looked extra sexy tonight, maybe it was because I was so horny; maybe that was her game, withholding, making me desire her more.

I moved to her, took her into my arms, "Your gorgeous, not just tonight, you always turn me on," I gave her a passionate kiss, I wanted her to feel my energetic desire.

Her response wasn't as I'd hoped, she was almost mechanical, like she was obligated to kiss me.

She turned and left without speaking, that dagger in my heart just twisted; I could feel my insides churn, tears welled up, I took a beer to the sofa.

I was once again mulling over what to do when my 4 buddies showed up to watch the game. I welcomed them, the distraction was nice for a bit; but I had some more important personal stuff going on that needed attention.

Once the game started, beer and munchies covered the coffee table, the odor and fog of weed in the air, my mind returned to focus on my severed relationship. The game and bros held little concern, no attention nor desire to participate.

I grabbed my keys; "Guys I gotta make a beer run."

I rushed to the location of her cell phone tracking app, it was a large, converted warehouse, the neon sign on the top of the building in pink and blue cursive, was scripted as if being written, slowly spelled 'Club D'ananas' and a bright, flashing yellow and green pineapple.

There were several cars in the large parking area, there was a suited doorman, and well dressed, distinguished looking people entering.

I sat for a brief moment; ok, maybe my imagination has gotten a bit carried away, Ruth is, as suggested, simply attending a bar with coworkers, harmless fun, they'll likely drink a bit too much; but Ruth is a loyal wife, I trust her.

I have the feeling that comment seemed an awful lot like I'm trying to convince myself.

I rush back home, no one noticed me enter, the guys are all yelling, our team just scored.

After the game, a couple guys stayed we had a couple beers and a joint, chatted about the game and guy stuff. I cleaned up the empties and put away the left-over munchies, took a shower and crawled into bed at almost midnight, wondering if I should wait up for Ruth.

She got home after 2 am, no biggie, I'm not sure if I dozed off and she woke me, or I was still awake waiting. I expected her to be a little tipsier than she appeared.

I guess she assumed I was sleeping and went straight for the shower.

I wait a few moments and as I've been horny all weekend, I decide I'm going to sneak in for a little playtime in the shower with my wife.

I got there just as the water turned off, the shower door opened, I stepped to her.

"Brock," she jerked upright, eyes wide, I startled her, she instantly grabbed a large towel, holding it in front of herself. "What are you doing, you scared me?" She wrapped the towel tightly around herself.

"I put one arm around her waist, the other around her shoulders, I pulled her to me and kissed her intimately.

"Oh. babe I'm so tired, please let's just cuddle."

Again, like a slap in the face she's resisting my advances.

As I stepped back, disappointed, but accepting. I thought I saw red streaks on her lower back and bum in the mirror reflection where the towel left her exposed.

"Ok hon, how was the girl's get together? Did you have a good time?"

"Yes, it was exciting, I enjoyed it even more than I expected." She turned out the bathroom light, waited for me to leave, and followed me to bed.

She behaved shyly, turning off the bedside lamp before getting into her night clothes.

We spooned; she fell asleep quickly. I couldn't get the curiosity of those marks I thought I saw in the mirror reflection out of my head. I carefully got my cell phone, holding it under the covers I turned on the torch, lifting the covers up slightly with my phone in hand, I carefully lifted her top higher; red streaks, welts crisscrossed on her lower back and ass cheeks.

Whoa a sharp gasp escaped me, I knew instantly what caused them, but couldn't believe Ruth would do that.

I felt that intense knot in my stomach again, that monsters head 'told you.'

I thought I'd have to run to the bathroom to hurl. I felt hit by a bus, all my suspicions are true, the evidence is obvious. I clicked a couple photos, even did a short recording for some unknown reason. Maybe to verify it for myself in case I don't believe what I saw come morning.

Ruth, my devoted, loving wife ... definitely cheated, and lied to my face... she's a submissive to who?

Unable to sleep I got out of bed, grabbed a beer, and went to the sofa.

Was she participating voluntarily?

Maybe someone is blackmailing her, torturing her; that's why the secrecy?

What is going on in Ruth's life?

Ruth's laptop was right there on the lower shelf of our coffee table; seemingly beckoning me.

I would never have betrayed our trust and checked her computer before tonight. Somehow it seemed right, my protective instincts as a husband, justified me looking. If she's doing this against her will, I could save her.

If she's participating willingly, she's betrayed me, and our trust has already been broken. I opened her laptop; she never changed her password.

I found nothing incriminating as I searched, I needed to see her phone texts to pacify my paranoia of an affair concerns.

I was about to close her laptop, and a folder titled 'Mary pics,' caught my attention.

The first pic was a nude male body, no head, well no face, the semi erect male penis had a rather large purplish head. I was fairly sure that wasn't Mary.

After comparing several poses of the male, ones with faces, the muscle-bound male was named Murray. He rented the house 4 doors up the street, I heard he was divorced, worked at a gym, he moved in 4 months ago, so this might be brand new, maybe even a one-time fling; that would explain her apprehension these past couple days, GUILT.

He certainly could be forcing Ruth against her will.

I continued flipping through the abundance of photos, Ruth posing in lingerie, and nudes, some in our house, some with the same background as Murray. In another subfolder I find several selfies with them together, intimate, raw, pornographic. Too many for this to be a one-time fling.

Obviously, they have been fornicating for a while; I was sick to my stomach, 'how long' came to mind, as did why?

I quickly dismissed the why, as his body was that of a superb Alpha male model. Large muscles, including the one with the purplish head Ruth seemed to enjoy immensely in many Kuma Sutra positions.

I surmised his body was what was most likely Ruth's initial attraction.

My imagination plays a little film clip scenario in my mind, Ruth is out for a stroll in our neighborhood, she sees this muscular hunk working in the yard, shirtless, in cutoffs, his body glistening with sweat. Ruth slows her stroll, her stares linger a bit too long, he notices her, moves to her, introduces himself. They chat, the entire time they are flirting, both intrigued by the other's exquisite body.

OK, that answers the why, pure and simple animal attraction, the how long?

This many pics in different locations, they've been at it a while.

This changes everything.

Ruth betrayed me, us, our marriage, she chose to throw it all away, for what? A fuck with a hard body?

Maybe it started as a poor lapse in judgement, but Ruth continued, making conscious decisions to be with him, lying to my face, deceiving me, how long was she hoping to continue living a separate life, playing on both sides of the fence, selfishly satisfying an itch, a fantasy?

Hoping I wouldn't find out. Was she intending to go on forever? Did she expect to hide those whip marks forever? Was she planning on leaving me, is that why she changed this weekend?

That's it yes, he has dominated her; she's under his control.

Who has my wife become?

I was appalled, furious, I wanted payback, I need Ruth to hurt as much as I do right now.

I don't understand why, but I'm feeling a slight sense of relief; I'm sick to my stomach my wife is cheating, yet at the same time relieved she's feeling guilty, and the affair might be over? It can't be over, she lied to me tonight, went and got whipped, obviously had sex and wants to hide it from me.

I can't forget what she's done, I'm damn sure not about to forgive.

As I collect my thoughts more rationally, I can now rationally understand her behavior Friday, her running in a dress and sandals makes more sense, she was at his house and likely lost track of time and had to hurry home.

Prompting her guilt, her apprehension to Friday's normal activities was because she felt caught. If I'd been 10 minutes later, would she have pretended nothing was going on up the street; and proceeded with our usual Friday playtime?

By my suspicion after arriving home before her, she no longer felt her cheating was secretive, she sensed I knew and didn't know what to do.

I finish my beer and open another subfolder.

It's an advertisement from the Club D'ananas, the one she attended last night.

It's a swinger's club and last night was a casting call for anyone wishing to explore BDSM. I gasp, dropping her computer my hands cover my face, I gag, almost puke. I swallow hard, Murray introduced her to that, and she went willingly, knowingly.

The pang of pain in my heart hit like sword; my mind swirling, fury, anger, hurt, a whirlwind, no, a tornado of emotions towards her indiscretions.

It takes several minutes of trying to comprehend what just happened to my life.

I need to see her phone, read her texts, I need more information; I go to our bedroom, cautiously, stealthily, I move along Ruth's side of the bed, pick up her cell and covertly retreat to the sofa with it.

Immediately I affirm my assumption her friend Mary is actually Murray.

That cute doggy video she received earlier, doggy vid alright, it was Murray doing her 'doggy style.'

There's a clear pattern of escalating flirtatious messages starting about 5 weeks ago; quickly escalating by the accompanying pics similar to the intimate ones in Ruth's email.

Their sordid pornographic picture exchanging led to Murray changing his work schedule 3 weeks ago to also have Fridays off. Thus, their consummation acts 3 weeks ago on a Friday, complete with video.

Damn it, for the past weeks I was having his seconds.

There is also a plethora of pics from last Friday as they defiled, desecrated our marital bed, sofa, carpet, the patio, the kitchen counter, even the table.

I wasn't about to take this without a fight, I copied all the texts, all files, sent everything to my email account. I returned her phone to the bedside table, got another beer, and started plotting my revenge and our divorce.

She slept in past noon; I wasn't speaking, she could feel the tension. Neither of us spoke. Sunday was as quiet as Friday night and Saturday.

She donned her jogging suit and announced she was going for a run; I knew that was a lie and for some reason I didn't care.

When she returned 2-hours later she wasn't sweaty like she was running, but she did have that recognizable lingering scent of sex.

I consumed the remainder of the evening doing mundane things on my laptop and went to bed early and pretended to be asleep when she came in.