Another Amy Story

Like other cheating wife stories, I’ll start in the middle.

D-Day:

The IT company I worked for had just finished a successful project and most of the staff including me had been dismissed early and had headed down to their favorite bar. I had skipped the bar and arrived home almost at my regular time. Amy’s car was in the driveway along with a car I didn’t recognize. Since our condo only had two parking places, I had to hunt for a place to park which made me angrier. Add the pouring rain on top of that.

My wife’s sex noises could be heard throughout the condo as I entered. I did what any other literotica reader would do, I put my phone in video mode and sneaked upstairs. The door was wide open, my wife’s clothes began in the middle of the stairs and her panties lay on the threshold to our bedroom.

Amy was on her back with her legs wrapped around some guy I never saw before. By his skin color I assumed he was southeast Asian. I was lost in indecision. Killing him crossed my mind, so did leaving. It was my fucking condo that I bought months before I met Amy.

Then Amy started getting that face she makes when she’s coming. I loved that face. It pushed me over the edge so many times during the three years we were married. I realized my dick was getting hard. I am not one of those men who get off watching their wives fuck other men. Amy was the most beautiful woman I ever met, turned both men and women’s heads every time she entered a room, and I was proud to say she’s mine. Except for today.

But why waste a hard dick, especially since my future sex life was going to suck. I took out my cock and started jerking off. The two lovers were lost in their own bliss and didn’t notice I was standing there until I started coming. I made sure the first shot landed right on the wife stealer’s mouth. The second shot landed on Amy’s face.

The wife stealer’s reaction was something I expected. I think involuntarily his tongue reached out to catch what was dripping down his face and his eyes flashed open. He freaked out seeing my cock a few inches away from his face, jumped up and started yelling “What the fuck man.”

Amy lifted her head, took my cock in her mouth and started sucking the rest of my come out of my cock.

I yelled back at wife stealer, “You’re asking me what the fuck when I find you fucking my wife? Get your shit and get the fuck out of my house before I go get my gun.”

He started putting his pants and shoes on saying, “Sorry man, I didn’t know she was your wife.”

“You are truly a scumbag; you may not have known she was my wife, but you had to have seen the rings and known she was somebody else’s wife. Don’t ever let me see you again.”

Amy had thrown some sweats on and started loading her suitcases.

“I’ll be at my moms,” she said. “I’ll stop by during the week and pick up the rest of my stuff. I know it don’t mean shit, but I am sorry. “

Amy turned and left, picking up the clothes she had littered the stairways with as she headed out.

I stood on the top of the steps for a long time wondering what just happened.

Later I found myself sitting in the kitchen nursing a glass of scotch still wondering what the fuck just happened. My brain was in a constant loop with useless questions like ‘how many times’ ‘how many guys’ ‘how long had I been a cuckhold.’

None of that was going to get me anywhere. What I needed was a plan, so I started outlining what I needed to do, bank accounts, credit cards, a lawyer.

I called my boss, gave him the PG version and told him I needed a few days off and a lawyer. He was sorry to hear about it. Since we all worked for the same company, he knew Amy well and was surprised. He had never seen any indication that she was overly friendly with someone or stepping out. He gave me the number of a lawyer he used on his divorce that specialized in mediation. As long as we didn’t have a lot to argue about, he could save us a lot of money. Amy and I didn’t have a lot to argue about. We owed more on the condo than it was worth. Both our cars were leased, and our savings account was usually empty.

In the morning, I called the guy and was able to see him late that morning. He invited me over for a short introductory meeting. His office was very plain in an older office building. His secretary looked old enough to be his mother and I latter found out she was his mother. I laid out my complaint and reason for wanting a divorce. I offered to show him the video and he refused to look at it.

“I am not that kind of lawyer,” he said. “If your angry and want to extract your pound of flesh you are in the wrong place. I’ve done those types of divorces before and want nothing to do with that. But if you and your wife agree to the divorce, and agree to the splitting of assets, then it’s a really simple process and much cheaper that seeking retaliation.”

The lawyer asked me to send a text to Amy, not a phone call, a text, telling her that a lawyer was going to contact her. Not my lawyer but a lawyer.

Last night I slept in the guest room, so I went home and started washing the sheets off the master bed. I thought about burning the mattress but definitely did not have the money for a new one, so I just flipped it over.

The lawyer called me back in the afternoon and said he spoke to Amy. All she wanted was her car and a time to come back for the rest of her stuff. I agreed. We set up a time and date where I would stay late at work so she can get her stuff. We also set up a time when I could come into his office and sign the papers. He would set up a different time for Amy so we wouldn’t have to see each other.

Four years earlier:

Right out of college I took a job with an IT company. I was a programmer. The interview process was grueling and long. I almost took some other offers while they went through the process. They finally offered me a position, the starting salary was disappointing, I had already passed up better offers, but they offered a very nice signing bonus and full relocation benefits. The rest of the benefits package was also very generous.

On my first day my boss assigned me to a project from hell. The thing was way behind schedule and was full of invisible bugs.

“Sorry,” he said. “The company is on the edge of scrapping the whole thing. If you can save it, you’ll be famous. And if you can’t, you’ll be like everybody else.”

I barely went home that week and weekend, going through the software and trying to identify why it was crashing. The problem was it never crashed in the same place twice. That first Saturday morning I met Amy at the in the break room while waiting for the coffee pot. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever met.

Beautiful women don’t code so I didn’t think she was working in any of the groups associated with my project. We chatted while waiting for the coffee to finish brewing when she told me she just started and was assigned to the QC area of my project. As I said I was surprised, and I felt sorry for her. Good looking women were generally not taken seriously in IT.

Later in the afternoon, Amy came to my office and told me she found the problem with the code. Yes, I was surprised. She had sheets and sheets of code printed out and showed me where there was an extra space in several of the subroutines. She had already gone through the entire program and removed the extra spaces, and it seemed to run flawlessly. The hardest part of the process was trying to maintain my focus and some extra space between Amy and myself.

When my boss came in on Monday, I presented him the complete package. He was shocked and sent it over to one of the other QC groups to verify my claim. I also explained that Amy had found the errors, not me.

There was a big celebration on Friday. They presented me with an award and a nice bonus check. I called up Amy to the podium and announced that she was really the one who saved the project. I also told my boss that she deserved at least half the bonus if not the whole thing. I was adamant and he said he would give Amy a bonus in the same amount.

As I learned, the norm for this company was to take a half day on Friday and celebrate at the favorite bar. I was sitting there drinking some scotch while several of my coworkers offered congratulations. I had not realized it before, but the owners had bet the company on that package and if it failed, so would the company and we would all be unemployed.

As I was getting ready to leave Amy came up to me and said, “You didn’t have to share all your glory with me. I’m very content to sit in the background.”

“Amy, it was all your glory in the first place,” I said.

We sat and had another drink. Her ride was leaving so she had to go. I may have been in love.

The other benefit of my success was a promotion to a manager position. My boss also got a promotion, so our reporting relationship didn’t change. Workplace relationships are fraught with danger these days. I would never do anything intentionally wrong, but it was so easy for things to be misconstrued so I always tried to maintain a safe distance from Amy.

Our interactions generally revolved around polite greetings at the coffee pot or her involvement on a project I was heading. But I began to notice that other men were crossing whatever imaginary line my feeble brain could come up with. And I knew my logic was tainted with jealousy.

I brought my troubles to my manager, carefully explaining that I had feelings for Amy that I refused to act on, but I thought other men were wading into that grey area. He called in the admin in Amy’s group and asked her to keep an eye on Amy.

We agreed to meet a week later.

The following week she presented a list of seven men that spent inordinate amount of time at Amy’s desk, one guy who was always trying to look down her blouse and one guy who was very handsy and she would frequently see Amy squirm when he was near her. My boss called HR who was located in California, and they had someone in our office the first thing the next morning. I was not included in the conversation.

Amy was interviewed first followed by the nine men. Touchy feely was interviewed last and was escorted from the building carrying the cardboard box of shame. The peeker was suspended for a month but never came back and the other seven received letters to their files. Neither one of those two guys were a big loss.

Amy was waiting for me the next day in my office, she had a cup of coffee for me on my desk.

“A little birdie told me you were responsible for yesterday’s blood bath. I could have handled it. I don’t want to draw attention to myself.”

“When they promoted me to manager, I had to take all these HR courses on-line or in California. One of the things I learned is that most women feel exactly like you do. ‘They can handle it.’ But my responsibility as a manager is to make sure it doesn’t happen and if I see anything that stinks, I had to report it. I saw you trying to crawl out of your skin one day when that guy had his hand on your shoulder and had to do something.”

“Why did you drag the admin into it?”

Amy smiled while I turned fifty shades of red. She was like a lawyer who knew the answer to the question before it was asked. She was enjoying watching me squirm.

“Go ahead and spit it out,” she said.

“Amy, obviously you are very beautiful but also, I find you incredible intelligent. Finding the missing space on that program and all your other contributions since then… brains and beauty puts you way out of my league.”

“So, is that why you wanted someone who didn’t have feelings for me to take a closer look? And that’s what we’re talking about here, your feelings for me right?

"Don’t I get to decide who’s in my league”

Jesus this woman was smart and not afraid to use it. We sat there in silence staring at each other.

She stood up, put her hands on my desk and said, “I have to get back to work. Since we do not have a reporting relationship, you can take me to dinner Saturday night and we can finish this conversation then.”

Then she walked out of my office leaving me stunned. I don’t think I accomplished anything meaningful the rest of the day. She had asked me out and I hadn’t been on anything close to a date since college. What to wear, where to go, what time were just a few of the questions cycling through my head. Amy sent me an email telling me the name of the restaurant and what time I should meet her there. I did a recon mission that night to determine what I should wear.

On Saturday evening, I was pacing my living room, trying to not to leave too early and trying to think what we might talk about. I got to the restaurant early anyway and was enjoying a glass of scotch when she came in. God, she looked beautiful in the dress she wore, not overly sexy but way better than the jeans and sweatshirts she normally wore at work. We stood in line waiting for our table and Amy whispered into my ear to put my arm around her.

There was some small talk before we ordered and as our meal came, I asked her what she liked to do on her vacations.

She smiled at me and asked, “Did you read that is some book about how to make small talk on a first date?”

“Actually, I thought it up all by myself,” turning very red.

“Good looking and suave, maybe you’re out of my league.”

We both had a good laugh, and it turned out our families vacationed in the same small shore town for years and odds were we must have run into each other in town or on the beach at least once.

Amy was toying with her desert, and I was sure neither one of us wanted the evening to end. I wasn’t comfortable with inviting her back to my place. I never expected that to happen, so my condo looked somewhere between a dorm room and a bachelor pad. I remembered there was a promenade along the river near the restaurant and invited Amy for a walk.

We held hands as we walked, and I was feeling like I was 14 and taking my first girlfriend to the movies. While holding her hand I steered her to one of the benches and we sat down.

“You wanted to finish our conversation from Wednesday.”

“Yes, I do want to thank you for stepping in on that creep. He did make my skin crawl. But the problem is I also have feelings for you, ever since that first Saturday when we were working on that project. I was having fun, getting closer and closer to you and you kept trying to maintain a professional distance. Eventually it will get out that you were really the person who called HR and that may prompt some wagging tongues if we started dating. Not that I give a flying fuck about wagging tongues, but you’re the up and comer. How will it affect your career?”

“I never thought about that. First, I never thought you were in my league and second, I really didn’t have any choice but to do the right thing. May I suggest that we continue dating and keep things low key in the office until you agree to marry me?”

“Pretty confident there. Are you going to invite me back to your place tonight and seduce me?”

“I never had any plans along those lines and if you saw my condo right now you would never marry me.”

We necked for a bit on the bench, Amy put my hand on her boob and said we’re not 12. I walked her to her car.

“I guess since you’re being such a gentleman I’ll have to take care of myself when I get home. And I have you to thank for this car. I had been taking public transit to work or bumming rides from my coworkers. With that bonus I was able to put down some money to buy a this.”

We kissed goodbye and I stood there for a long time wondering what just happened.

I don’t want to get into all the minutia of our dating, but on our third date, Amy invited me to her house for dinner on a Saturday. It was actually her parents’ house. Amy and her mother greeted me at the door, Amy handed me my favorite beer and directed me to go meet her father in the living room. In the living room was an old man, all hunched over, sitting in a wheelchair with a blanket over his lap. He looked like he was sleeping so I cleared my throat, and he slowly lifted his head. One eye was closed, and his face was all distorted. The blanket slowly slid off his lap revealing a gun in his hand.

He looked at me while waving the gun and in some weird drawl said, “Son, what are your intentions with my daughter?”

I didn’t have time to respond before Amy shouted out, “Dad, quit fucking with him or you’ll find yourself rolling down the hill with no breaks.”

I turned back to the man, sitting up right with a normal face with a big smile. He offered me a smile and said, “God dam women, never let me have any fun! Hi’ I’m Bill.” And he held out his hand.

“Glad to meet you sir, I’m Jack.”

“Amy said you were an old fashioned gentleman.”

Dinner was fantastic, her father and I got along great. We discussed the shore town we use to vacation in. He described the shore house they use to own. We usually rented a couple of houses down from them, convincing me even more that Amy and I crossed paths before.

After dinner, Amy and I were sitting on the small front porch they had. Every once in a while, I would see the barrel of the pistol open the curtains a bit. It was usually followed by a slap sound and an ouch.

“You could have warned me,” I said.

“What, that my father was in a wheelchair, I thought you would have to see it for yourself.”

“Not that he was in a wheelchair, that he had such a fantastic sense of humor. I almost peed myself at one point.”

“Sorry, he gets bored. He used to be and extremely active man, sailing, hiking and backpacking. On one of those hiking trips, he got bit by some tick and caught meningitis. Everyone thought it was lime disease and by the time they figured it out he was wheelchair bound for the rest of his life. Gone are the shore houses and the McMansion in order to cover some of the medical expenses. My mom quit work to take care of him. They sold the old house and moved here so I could help and give my mom a break once in a while. Sunday is my day.”

“I won’t be upset if you decided to leave, well maybe a teeny bit upset,” she added with a half grin half serious face.

I stood up, scaring the shit out of Amy and yelled through the front door, “Hey Bill, Amy is fucking with me!”

“I taught her well Jack.”

Amy jumped into my arms and gave me a big kiss.

Bill tapped the gun barrel on the window and said, “Jack, I would appreciate you put my daughter down. Who knows what the neighbors would think.”

It wasn’t long before Amy started spending nights in my house and the sex was fantastic. After the first night, Bill called me up wanting to know why his daughter’s cheeks were all flushed.

After the first year we were married, just immediately family was invited. It was a small wedding at Amy’s request. Her family just didn’t have money for anything extravagant. Amy still spent every Sunday taking care of her father and I usually tagged along. Bill and I would watch whatever game was on. He was a really nice guy and incredibly bright.

One afternoon, Amy gave Bill a bath and she couldn’t get him out of the tub. She asked me to help her and he threw a fit, shouting “No fucking way Amy, No fucking way!” He was getting more and more upset, and she finally told him ok. They would let the water out of the tub, dry him off and try again. It worked and once he was out, he demanded to go to bed. I didn’t see him again that night.

After D-Day

The whole office eventually knew Amy and I were divorced. The leachers were circling her desk like vultures and fresh meat. Amy called HR this time. Not only were a couple of guys fired but the whole unit had to attend sensitivity training to remind people what was and was not appropriate. As a rebound, all the men in the office avoided her.

I started stopping at a coffee shop, so I didn’t have to face her in the breakroom.