Catching A Cheater

To the literary purists – This is a short story specifically designed to fit on one page. As such, there is no character development and no witty dialogue. I am not writing the next great novel. To everyone else, I hope you enjoy.

How do you know if your spouse is a cheater? They protest too much, say they could never, would never, but how do you really know? Now my wife has asked (accused) me in the past. I finally began to wonder about her. Then I remembered a story that left me the perfect opportunity to test her faithfulness.

It seems that one time, shortly after I had met her, she was out at a bar and someone in my same profession, with the same first name, had left a business card where she was seated. She claims she initially thought it was mine, not knowing me well at that point. Thus, I launched the plan to use an alias to test her.

I decided to write an email, with a random name, claiming to have seen her in a mall parking lot and asking the people around me if they knew her name. I pretended to have found out not only her name, but where she worked. I then sent the email to her at her workplace and waited for a couple of responses...one at home telling me she had received a random note from an admirer, and then wondering if my alias would receive a response from her. No report of any correspondence was forthcoming, so now it was a waiting game to see if she was interested in replying to the communication.

Well, it took about a week, but one day my alias had a response in the inbox. Now since no one else had the email address, it was apparent where it came from. She was vague in her response, since I had not said I had met her, but she showed an interest in exploring a further chance to get together and know her secret admirer.

Disconcerting. She was willing to stray, and not with someone she had even met. I struggled with the emotions of deceiving her and her apparent potential infidelity. It was now full speed ahead and the need to get to the bottom of the situation. My alias quickly replied, saying I had been on pins and needles awaiting a response. I indicated I would be back in town shortly and suggested we meet in a public place to see if we had a connection and avoid suspicion. She suggested an upscale bar and my alter ego responded with a "meet you there, in a sport coat with a red rose". The plan was in motion.

I had recruited and pre-qualified three gentlemen to play the alter-ego and now had to coordinate schedules to keep this deception moving forward. All were a bit younger, handsome and charming, so there should be no hiccups there. My first choice was available, so we arranged a date and I made room reservations for him.

Then I set about seducing my wife from my phantom email account. I proposed a number of scenarios, from vanilla to spicy. Initially, she was a little aloof, but apparently began to crave the excitement. After a night of numerous communications, she was ready to meet and agreed on the date. Again, no mention of this at home, but she was all of a sudden very jumpy around the house. I wondered what her plan to get out of the house would be and soon found out. She "reminded" me she had a weekend work event that would take her out of town that she claimed she had mentioned to me several weeks ago. Total Bullshit.

As the appointed weekend arrived, she packed and told me she would be leaving about noon Friday to the meeting. I shrugged it off, knowing full well her ultimate destination. I checked in with the appointed surrogate to confirm he understood the terms of our agreement and was pleased when he responded he was excited to be a participant. He was fully aware of all the correspondence as he had been copied on everything. I gave my wife the usual goodbye kiss in the morning, wishing her a successful conference and to enjoy her time away from home.

I spent the day as usual, knowing they hadn't planned to meet until 6PM. Then I got antsy. Would she? Wouldn't she? Had I chosen the right guy? The answer came a little after 9PM in a text from the guy. She had beat him to the bar and had a drink when he arrived, very unlike her to be at the bar alone. He had recognized her from the photos I had provided, but ignored her in keeping with the fact he hadn't met her. He ordered his own drink, glancing around the bar, finally saluting her with his glass. She finished her drink, ordered another, and sashayed over to the stranger with the red rose.

A quick peck on the lips. They sat next to each other, knees touching. He looked in her eyes, put his hand on her thigh and started a romantic banter. As she became consumed in his spiel, he slid his hand higher and higher up her thigh, finally reaching where her panties should be. Except they weren't. His hand slid to her bush and he slipped a finger into her dripping slit. She sighed. He leaned in for a real kiss and was rewarded with a sloppy, wet smack. Their tongues dueled. As the bartender silently said "get a room", he paid for the drinks and escorted her out.

The rental car in the parking lot provided a temporary sanctuary and they took advantage of the opportunity, making out furiously. My wife came humping his hand with two fingers inserted, rubbing her G spot. She unzipped and fished out his cock, sucking it to fullness before straddling him and impaling herself. He was already primed and proceeded to pump his load into her as she clenched down and had a second orgasm. The main event loomed ahead. He started the car and drove to his hotel.

She was now committed, her story being that she would be at a work retreat all weekend leaving her no reasonable explanation to return home early. It seems the excitement of the tryst was overwhelming her. Her willing companion led her to the elevator and up to his room, groping her the whole way. He opened the door for her and she lustfully attacked him as he stepped in. He grabbed her by the back of her neck, kissing her hard. He slipped her dress and bra off her shoulders as he kissed them. She was putty in his hands. Soon her dress was pooled at her ankles. He unclasped her bra and she was naked except for her shoes in front of another man for the first time in 20+ years.

She was hesitant, so he unbuttoned his shirt, unbuckled his belt, undid his waistband and slowly stripped out of his clothes. The full impact of the situation hit her. It wasn't so bad in the dim light of the bar or the shadows of the parking lot, but the lights in the room drove home the impact of where she was and what she was doing. He stepped forward and led her to the bed. She asked if they could turn out the lights and he honored the request, much to his chagrin.

His eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness with the help of the glow from the clock radio. He trailed his tongue up the insides of her legs, but before he got to her pussy, she stopped him and pulled him up, guiding his cock back into their combined wetness. Her blood engorged outer lips made the entry more difficult, but the juices dripping out allowed him to ease himself back into her. Even in the darkness he could see her wince from the intrusion. He held still.

When he began to stroke into her, he went very slowly, allowing her to adjust. I know her and at this point she is done cumming for the evening and just interested in letting him finish. He slips his hands under her ass, but before he can get any further, she clenches her cheeks tightly together, wraps her legs around his back and drives him deeper into her. He gets the hint, using the placement of his hands to leverage himself even deeper into her. She clamps her vaginal muscles tight and he explodes with a number of spasms.

My wife heads gingerly to the bathroom to clean up. That was when I got his aforementioned 9PM text, "Mission accomplished, seduction complete." My stomach, which had been doing flip-flops all day, flopped, triggering the switch that activates the wheels turning in my brain. As my wife cleaned up her mess, my mind was devising its own plan to clean up the rest of the mess she had made.

Since she would be gone another day and a half, I decided to invoke the 24 hour rule. That was the stupid rule the sports coaches tried to institute so they wouldn't get yelled at after a game. You were supposed to wait 24 hours and if you were still pissed, then you were free to express your opinion about how they coached. My 24 hours was spent trying to decide whether to pack her things and have them on the driveway, wait and see if she would come clean about her weekend when she got home and/or whether she would continue to pursue her affair. I eventually chose the wait and see options. I know, I'm not too bright sometimes.

While I was struggling with my decisions, my wife had apparently already decided to enjoy some sausage first thing the next morning and was rolling the head of her lover's cock around with her tongue. She has never claimed to be a fellatrix, says her jaw gets sore, won't swallow, keeps her hand on the shaft to control depth and prefers to finish with a hand job. I had clued him in on all this, recommending he finish between her tits, one of the few positions she allows. He gently rolled her onto her back, sliding his now slick cock into the valley between her tits and proceeded to deposit his morning load in long streams, leaving her a shiny pearl necklace.

They spent the afternoon strolling the town, eventually settling into a back booth at a cozy, little bar for happy hour. He continued to ooze charm, whispering her his intentions for later in the evening. She giggled and flirted. They had several drinks, touching each other intimately, before she silently unzipped his jeans and stoked his cock. He responded in kind, plunging first one, then two fingers into her waiting cunt. She felt him throb and quickly grabbed a napkin to catch his ejaculation. The aroma of their combined juices filled the booth. My secret agent zipped up, left money for the drinks on the table and ushered my giggling wife out the door.

Back at the hotel, they showered together, enjoying soaping each other, dressed and went for an exquisite meal at an elegant restaurant. Just as they were finishing dessert, a little group started playing soft music in the adjacent lounge. They found a table at the edge of the room and danced until the band took a break. My wife's new lover led her to an attached outdoor patio to enjoy the warm night cooled by a pleasant breeze. He escorted her to a dark corner and gave her a lingering kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck, he caressed her ass with his left hand as he grazed her breast with his right. She moaned, they kissed, he whispered as he moved his hands onto her bare back. It was time to return to the hotel room

This time there was no rush to strip off their clothes. They left on a soft light in the corner and slowly undressed each other, indulging themselves in caressing, exploring and touching each others most sensitive places as each piece of clothes came off. Eventually they stood naked and the caresses continued until he began to nibble down her body to her nipples, tracing his tongue towards her navel as she backed to the bed. Tonight she didn't stop him, and his tongue was soon tangled in her pubic hair. He flattened his tongue as he licked her, then flicked the tip across her clit. Using her fingers, she exposed herself more fully to him and he suctioned her clit into his mouth, still flicking her clit. The whole evening overwhelmed her and she writhed as she came, pushing his head away.

He crawled up to spoon behind her, his aching cock slipping between her ass cheeks. My wife reacted rather quickly, rolling away from him, then throwing a leg over and straddling him cowgirl. She aligned herself and holding his cock, slid slowly down. She rode him for a while as he reached up and played with her tits. Tired of this, she assumed a reverse missionary position, with her legs between his, fucking him like she had the cock, rubbing her nipples on his chest. He was swelling inside her, she wanted to go for the big finish. Back up to cowgirl, he was almost there, thrusting to meet her downstrokes. She leaned backwards and that drove him over the edge. He filled her and lay exhausted underneath her as his deposit dripped out of her, covering his stomach and balls, pooling in his navel and oozing between his ass cheeks.

At home, the 24 hours were up and I began to draft the emails from my alias about what an incredible time it had been and wanting to meet again. Since as I wrote the drafts I had no idea the extent of the tryst, I composed several drafts covering a number of scenarios. I needed to be busy and keep my plan on track. She wasn't aware, but her only way out of this was to bare her soul with all the juicy details when she got home. I drifted off to sleep in the office chair.

My wife awoke for the second morning next to the man that was not her husband. Her mind raced to packing and leaving this weekend behind her. She crawled out of bed and used the bathroom. When she returned, her lover had awoken as well. She reluctantly slipped back under the sheets. His kisses were not met with any passion and he sensed that what he thought he had accomplished over the weekend was now gone. He persevered, determined to have one last sexual interlude with my wife.

He kissed her throat, between her breasts. She held him loosely and stroked his back. She didn't resist as he crawled between her thighs and entered her. She let him thrust away, then turned to the last page in her playbook. She began to talk dirty, telling him how good he felt, how it must feel to be in her warm, wet pussy, how he rubbed her clit. It worked, he sped up his attack, she pushed back to meet him several times, clamped her vaginal muscles and he finished deep inside.

She showered, paying special attention to attempt to get rid of any evidence of her indiscretion. Packed quickly, gave her new acquaintance several goodbye kisses and wasted no time leaving the room in her walk of shame. Shortly she was on the road home. Doubts rushed through her mind as she replayed the events, wondering if she had forgotten anything that would cast doubt on her weekend. Since she hadn't worn panties the entire time, there would be no stains to explain. But had there been any other transfer of fluid to fabric? Had her skin been marked in any of their encounters?

I hear my wife's car pull into the garage. I feel confident that I can hide my emotions until I reach a resolution of this situation. She rolls her suitcase into the house and announces she is home. I step out of another room and welcome her with a kiss, saying I didn't hear the garage door and it was good to have her back safely.

She rolls her suitcase to the bedroom to unpack. I go back to whatever I was doing in the other room, until I hear her ask if I can come in to the bedroom when I have a minute. I ready myself for her confession and apology and after a brief pause, step into the bedroom.

She has undressed and is under the sheets. She claims to have been missing me and wants to show me how much. I start to undress while she turns on the radio. I slip between the cool sheets, wondering the last time she had a cock in her. She attacks me, sticking her tongue down my throat before grabbing my cock and sucking it into her mouth. Once I'm nice and hard, she slides up, impales herself on me and feeds me her nipples. I let her ride a while, eventually rolling us over to pound her mercilessly. She is not faking as she cums and takes me with her as I unleash my pent up frustration into her well used cunt. I compliment her for her performance.

We recover from the glow and before she can leave to clean up, I casually ask how the meetings went. Without missing a beat, she says they were very productive and there were many good sessions during the weekend. I'll bet. She rolls out of bed and heads to the bathroom.

After she heads to bed for the evening because she is "exhausted from the conference", I email my contact for the details. After he lays out their escapades, I let him know I am going to try to lead her on again and set up another meet. He is enthusiastic, but only cautiously optimistic based on the way the morning went. We'll see.

The next afternoon I shoot out the email about what a fantastic weekend and that it should happen again. Will she take the bait? Sex with a stranger was STRIKE ONE, not being honest and sharing when she came home was STRIKE TWO, would she agree to another getaway? I knew this decision was going to be harder if she harbored any regrets and expected an extended period and some serious coaxing before her reply. I was stunned when she replied almost immediately that she wanted another experience. STRIKE THREE.

I contacted my three candidates and arranged a weekend they were all available, rented a suite and began the arrangements with my soon to be ex-wife. She agreed to the date and I let everyone know we were a go. The plan was different this time. I needed her original partner to make sure she got good and drunk on tequila before he brought her back to the room. The other two would be there and the three of them were to have their way with her and I was encouraging them to take her anal cherry. The plan worked to perfection and at one point they were having a three way with her.

Since she didn't know any of them, it would be impossible to press rape charges even if she could convince anyone that it was without her consent. By the time the booze wore off the next morning, the guys were long gone. She was awakened by a knock on the door by a deputy. In her haze, she believed he was there to take her statement, until he handed her the divorce papers.