able to put my life back together.
It occurred to me that Joanie might have conspired with John to create the story. That it might all be a put-on. Even if she hadn’t sucked him off, she was pretty enough that he might be willing to cooperate with some zany scheme just to please her. But that just felt unlikely. He’d really been scared at first and desolate at the end when I suggested it was likely a one-time thing.
No, I just had to accept it. My wife, angrier with me that I could have imagined, had gone across the street and blown our neighbor. She’d gagged on his cock, swallowed his come, and taken a load to the chest.
Even worse, if the story about John was true, then so too was probably the one about Cody. On one hand, that one wasn’t as bad. I didn’t like Cody, but I never really gave him much thought ordinarily. On the other hand, it was worse. He was my half-brother after all, and she’d actually fucked him.
Okay, so what did I think about it? And what was I going to do about it? The first question was actually, weirdly, as hard as the second.
I was angry. Furious even. I mean, my professional life was falling apart… our professional life, actually, since I was the only one with a salary, and instead of being supportive, my wife had decided to throw the hissy-fit of all hissy-fits. No matter how much of a jerk I’d been, and I was a big enough man to admit I had been one, it didn’t justify her global-thermonuclear-war level of massive retaliation.
But I was also sad, and frankly concerned. Sad that I’d driven her to this, if indeed I had. And concerned because, well, this wasn’t like Joanie. That was the whole fucking point. I could easily see Stacy doing something like this, although Joanie’s response seemed a bit extreme even for my sex-crazed, queen of bad judgments ex-. Could this be some sort of mental illness? PMS on steroids? A bi-polar episode? The onset of schizophrenia? It didn’t seem that way. She was too calm and collected, too in control when I’d seen her. Too deliberate in her taunts. And yet, this was so out of character to be baffling.
And that out-of-characterness of it was also, weirdly, and I do mean weirdly, sort of, I don’t know, hot? Talk about being careful what you ask for. I’d asked for her to behave like a slut, and bam, that’s exactly what she was doing. I presume that was exactly the point of her little demonstration, but if she expected me to recoil in horror, she’d miscalculated as well. While I didn’t particularly like the idea of her being with other men, the idea of her being suddenly so over-the-top sexually was, weirdly, and I do mean weirdly, appealing.
If she actually enjoyed herself, and if she and I managed to reconcile, then this might all work out. Of course, that was a lot of “ifs,” and right now, I didn’t even know where she was or what she was doing.
Again as if on cue, I heard her keys rattling in the lock of the front door. I reached up and turned on the light behind me to avoid startling her. I’d been sitting in the dark.
When she walked into the living room, I was oddly disappointed. No party dress, no smudged lipstick, just Joanie in yoga pants and a tee shirt.
“Coming back from the gym?” I asked.
“I guess you could say that,” she said with a smirk.
And then I knew. I had another story coming my way. I managed to bite back a smile. I hadn’t yet decided what to do about all of this, so best maintain the status quo .
“Had another date?” I asked neutrally.
She regarded me closely, trying to see if I still doubted her story. I noticed that her eyes were drawn and tired. All of this messing around was taking a toll.
“Something like that.”
“Are you going to tell me?”
“Hmmm, do you want to know?”
I shrugged. “Why else would I ask?”
“So you believe me now?”
“Of course. Why would I doubt you?”
“I would have expected you to be more upset,” she challenged.
“And I
It occurred to me that Joanie might have conspired with John to create the story. That it might all be a put-on. Even if she hadn’t sucked him off, she was pretty enough that he might be willing to cooperate with some zany scheme just to please her. But that just felt unlikely. He’d really been scared at first and desolate at the end when I suggested it was likely a one-time thing.
No, I just had to accept it. My wife, angrier with me that I could have imagined, had gone across the street and blown our neighbor. She’d gagged on his cock, swallowed his come, and taken a load to the chest.
Even worse, if the story about John was true, then so too was probably the one about Cody. On one hand, that one wasn’t as bad. I didn’t like Cody, but I never really gave him much thought ordinarily. On the other hand, it was worse. He was my half-brother after all, and she’d actually fucked him.
Okay, so what did I think about it? And what was I going to do about it? The first question was actually, weirdly, as hard as the second.
I was angry. Furious even. I mean, my professional life was falling apart… our professional life, actually, since I was the only one with a salary, and instead of being supportive, my wife had decided to throw the hissy-fit of all hissy-fits. No matter how much of a jerk I’d been, and I was a big enough man to admit I had been one, it didn’t justify her global-thermonuclear-war level of massive retaliation.
But I was also sad, and frankly concerned. Sad that I’d driven her to this, if indeed I had. And concerned because, well, this wasn’t like Joanie. That was the whole fucking point. I could easily see Stacy doing something like this, although Joanie’s response seemed a bit extreme even for my sex-crazed, queen of bad judgments ex-. Could this be some sort of mental illness? PMS on steroids? A bi-polar episode? The onset of schizophrenia? It didn’t seem that way. She was too calm and collected, too in control when I’d seen her. Too deliberate in her taunts. And yet, this was so out of character to be baffling.
And that out-of-characterness of it was also, weirdly, and I do mean weirdly, sort of, I don’t know, hot? Talk about being careful what you ask for. I’d asked for her to behave like a slut, and bam, that’s exactly what she was doing. I presume that was exactly the point of her little demonstration, but if she expected me to recoil in horror, she’d miscalculated as well. While I didn’t particularly like the idea of her being with other men, the idea of her being suddenly so over-the-top sexually was, weirdly, and I do mean weirdly, appealing.
If she actually enjoyed herself, and if she and I managed to reconcile, then this might all work out. Of course, that was a lot of “ifs,” and right now, I didn’t even know where she was or what she was doing.
Again as if on cue, I heard her keys rattling in the lock of the front door. I reached up and turned on the light behind me to avoid startling her. I’d been sitting in the dark.
When she walked into the living room, I was oddly disappointed. No party dress, no smudged lipstick, just Joanie in yoga pants and a tee shirt.
“Coming back from the gym?” I asked.
“I guess you could say that,” she said with a smirk.
And then I knew. I had another story coming my way. I managed to bite back a smile. I hadn’t yet decided what to do about all of this, so best maintain the status quo .
“Had another date?” I asked neutrally.
She regarded me closely, trying to see if I still doubted her story. I noticed that her eyes were drawn and tired. All of this messing around was taking a toll.
“Something like that.”
“Are you going to tell me?”
“Hmmm, do you want to know?”
I shrugged. “Why else would I ask?”
“So you believe me now?”
“Of course. Why would I doubt you?”
“I would have expected you to be more upset,” she challenged.
“And I
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