Warning: This story contains self-hatred and self-destructive behaviour, watersports, anal, cuckqueaning, lesbianism, submissiveness and monetary slavery. If you find any of these not to your taste, please turn back. Otherwise enjoy.
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I loved my husband so much. I would have done anything for him, forgiven him anything, except infidelity, or so I thought. That was until the school reunion and he met Liz. Liz had been my biggest bully in the school. One of those perfect, popular, beautiful girls who saw your imperfections and called you out on them, drove them home to make you feel so utterly inferior to her. She must have loved the sense of superiority over everyone, especially with the cadre of yes-girls who'd follow her around and boost her ego by cheering on her degradation of their classmates.
I still was overweight. My husband was sweet enough to say he loved my curves, but I still felt inadequate when I looked at other women. Seeing Liz brought back those crushing feelings of worthlessness and self loathing that she'd inspired in me all those years ago. Watching from across the crowded room her flirting with my husband and him flirting back, unable to take his eyes from her cleavage, my jealousy jumped in to overdrive. Despite my weight I still had tiny, almost non-existent boobs, something I'd been mocked mercilessly for at school. My husband drooling over Liz's cut me so deep in my abdomen I felt like I'd die from shame. I took some deep breaths and held back the tears that I hadn't cried for years. Despite all this time, all the building up of confidence from becoming a professional, an adult, all those years of body image repair my husband had performed when he'd praised every tiny imperfection of me, I felt exactly like I was back in school, invisible and worthless, and a thought hit me; I didn't deserve my husband.
He was handsome and clever and kind and sweet and so, so selfless when it came to me and my pleasure. He would spend hours between my thighs, eating me, fucking me, eating me again. He had amazing stamina and would make me cum so hard, so many times. I never understood what he saw in me. I always felt inadequate with him, and I'd cling to him afterwards and beg him never to leave me. He, in turn, would reassure me and kiss me and love me. My insecurities were silly and I knew it. Everyone and their dog could see how devoted he was to me. But these insecurities came again in full force seeing them together.
I didn't deserve my husband at all. I was fat and ugly and had no boobs. I was an emotional wreck, constantly in need of reassurance and attention. Seeing such a confident and beautiful woman together with my husband... They just seemed so right together. My heart broke and bled all over my insides, which in turn cramped up and made me feel sick. I walked out of the old school building and to the car where I sat until my husband finally found me.
"What's wrong, darling love? Are you ok?"
His concerned face came close and the scent of him filled my nostrils. I'd been stewing with horrid emotions, imagining them in a heated embrace, finding a dark corner and fucking each other's brains out. Maybe he wouldn't come back to the car, maybe he'd go back to her place. Maybe he'd never come back at all. That's what I deserved.
"Honey? Love?"
I reassured him, telling him I had cramp, I was feeling unwell and had needed fresh air. He could see not everything was right, and as he drove us home, he kept begging me to tell him what was wrong. I kept up my charade.
I obsessed about it all night, barely sleeping at all, imagining that judgemental bitch having my husband at her beck and call, him being as sweet and giving to her as he had ever been with me and more so. I imagined him doting on her, bringing her drinks, massaging her feet and caressing her back. I imagined him pleasuring her with his amazing tongue and gorgeous cock and I punished myself with these thoughts. They felt weirdly good, and I masturbated to them, cumming again and again to thoughts of my husband belonging to another woman.
By morning I had barely slept at all and I called in sick to work. I felt and looked a wreck and my husband suggested I go see a doctor as he caressed my neck and pudgy, ugly tummy in gentle soothing motions. I promised I would and he left with many kisses and professions of love.
I felt guilty. Not for lying to him, but because I felt like I was stealing something much better from him. I loved my husband more than anything and he deserved so much better than me. My mind went back to Liz and him the previous night, chatting and flirting in the easiest manner possible. I hated her deeply for how she made me feel, but she had been right all those years ago, I was fat and worthless, especially compared to her. She was what my husband deserved. At least to try. He could have her sometimes and then I'd feel less guilty about having him. She certainly had seemed interested enough.
I started searching for information about her, where she lived, where she worked and finally found a contact number. It took a couple of hours to work up the courage to actually ring it and get my head around what I would say to her. When I managed to actually press the green call button my heart was in my throat and my bladder felt ready to burst. It rang and rang and I felt a moment of relief at the thought that she wouldn't pick up and I'd tell myself that I'd call again later but of course I never would because the whole thing was insane and I'd probably be over it and thinking about how stupid I was to even consider sharing...
The ringing stopped and her voice came over the line.
"Hello?"
There was something massive in my throat, my brain froze, I couldn't breathe, what the fuck was I doing?
"Jerry, if that's you heavy breathing at me, I swear to god..."
"Uh, um, uh..." I stuttered, "Hi, um, it's..." I took a deep breath and tried again. "Hi, Liz, it's Melissa from school?" I hated how unsure and pathetic I sounded, but I pushed on. "I saw you last night at the reunion, but didn't get a chance to chat?" My voice lifted, turning the statement into a stuttering question.
There was a moment's silence as Liz tried to recall who I was and then I heard it click and the inevitable confusion. "Oh, right, Melissa, right, how are you doing?"
"Not bad, not bad, just thought it might be nice to get together for a cup of coffee and catch up some time." I tried to sound normal, but my voice felt strained.
"What's up Melissa?" Liz sounded deadly serious now and cold shivers ran up and down my spine.
"It's nothing, there's just something I thought you might like I wanted to give you. I mean, there's something I want you to have and, ugh, I can't do this over the phone. Do you mind coming over? It's really important to me and I think you'll appreciate it."
"Ok, ok, I can hear it's important, though why me..."
"It just has to be, I promise it will make sense."
I gave her my address and she agreed to come that afternoon. Then followed hours of panicked cleaning and tidying. We hadn't had much time over the weekend to do the house because of the reunion and all the associated shopping for dresses and accessories. It felt weird, like I was cleaning the house for Liz, not for myself. It made me work harder, imagining that she would scrutinise everything. After cleaning the house for Liz, I cleaned myself for her, though there wasn't much I could really do. I would never look beautiful.
I settled on a loose fitting summer dress. It wasn't too hot outside but it was passable for indoor wear. I showered and did my hair as nicely as I could with my hands shaking the way they were. Make-up was out of the question thanks to my nervousness. When the bell went I was a complete wreck and my legs almost went to jelly under me. I rushed to the front door and tried to compose myself. The bell went again, impatiently. I turned the knob and pulled.
Outlined by the afternoon sun was a radiant vision of beauty and elegance that put my meagre preparations to so much shame that they wanted to crawl away into the dark sewers where they clearly belonged. I lowered my eyes, unable to look at Liz, her lovely clothes that fit her perfectly, her flowing blond hair, her gorgeous make-up and bone structure. I was a monster, an ugly beast.
"Come in," I mumbled, and she strode purposefully past and into the living room.
I closed the door behind her and gestured to the sofa.
