Cheating Wife & Cucold Husband #10

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I dedicate this story to Walter from Southern California.

Author's Note: This is a true story with a happy ending for Jay but a sad ending for Ruth. Even though Ruth was wrong for doing all that she did to Jay, he was wrong for doing all that he did to Ruth. Instead of divorcing early on, they allowed the marriage to continue and while she cheated on him, he cheated on her. Their open marriage worked until Ruth was bringing her work home with her and waving her sexual affairs not only in her husband's face but also in their neighbors' faces too.

*

Always suspecting her of having sexual affairs behind his back, Jay catches his wife, Ruth, red-handed and naked with her young lover, Chris.

The only fly in his ointment, the only thorn in his side, and the only pain in his ass, was his drunken whore of his not so loving wife, Ruth. Some loving wife she turned out to be. A woman who has sex with every man in the neighborhood and beyond but for him. Rejecting him, her own husband, she does sexual things to men she just met that she's never done with Jay. How dare she? Why would she? What's wrong with her to mistreat him in such a bad way?

A selfish, self-centered bitch, she was such an annoying, argumentative cunt. He needed to get rid of her. He needed to divorce her drunken ass. If she wasn't yelling and screaming at him, she was droning on and on about some nonsense that happened yesterday, last week, last month, last year, or years ago. When she's unable to drink in the way she'd like to drink and get drunk whenever he was home, she was mad with anger and mad with lunacy. She was on edge from her withdrawal from alcohol and he's on the verge of finally divorcing her. Enough is enough.

Always belittling him, instead of complimenting him, she had a way of making him feel small and insignificant. Even though he was successful in his career, she made him feel like a loser. When she was the one at fault in the failure of their marriage, she had a way of turning everything that was wrong with their relationship around and pointing the finger of blame at him. How dare she? How could she? More importantly, why did he allow her to get away with that bad behavior for all of these years? Maybe he was more than a sap. With her nothing but a cheating, drunken wife, maybe he was a cuckold husband indeed.

Always throwing it back in his face to start the same argument all over again, she never forgot the slightest provocation, the smallest transgression, and/or the one unthinking, insensitive comment he made against her. Finally now, after all of these years, he saw through her ruse. She started the same, never ending argument because she wanted him out of the house. Whether going to work or traveling, he'd think twice about coming home early. She didn't want him there. She just wanted his money. It was always only about the money.

"Money, money, money," he said mumbling under his breath.

He thought of Pink Floyd's song, Money, from the album Dark Side of the Moon. Then, he thought of ABBA's song, Money, Money, Money. He thought about the band Dire Straits, Money for Nothing. Seemingly the world had gone made with money. Everything and everyone was all about money.

Forget about love, if Jay didn't have money, he didn't have love or in his case, if he didn't have money, unable to pay his escorts, hookers, call girls, and prostitutes, he wouldn't be having sex. Forget about money, if he didn't have money, he'd have nothing and no one. Then, on the flipside of that coin, if he had too much money, instead of being happy, he'd be sad. Obviously with neither of them happy and with neither of them having any close friends, people only wanted them and liked them for their money. Whether it was his wife, his daughter, his employees, or the women of the night that he had sex with, they all wanted his money.

"Money, money, money," he mumbled under his breath again.

Once she was in a mood for a fight and started her shit, able to block her out, especially when he was sitting in the living room wearing his headphones, he no longer listened to her drunken diatribe and poisonous pontification anyway. Yet, unable to cut the tension with a knife, it was so thick with hatred, the atmosphere was poisonous. Surprised she never tried to murder him in his sleep, without her even saying a word, he could feel her lunacy, her anger, and her rage.

His safe harbor was not when he was at home but when he was in his car, at work, on a plane, or in a hotel room. His loving person was not his wife but a call girl, an escort, a prostitute, or a hooker. He received more interaction, intimacy, and sex from female strangers than he ever did from his supposed loving wife. Even though the never ending line of women of the night made him feel good, as soon as he returned home, his wife made him feel bad. He felt so free when he was traveling the country and the world to only feel so trapped once he returned home.

He dreaded coming home to her. Hoping she wasn't there but staying over some man's house that she was fucking and sucking, he dreaded even seeing his wife again. Instead of loving her, he hated her. He hated the disappointed and intolerant look she always had on her face. He hated the sound of her voice. The sound of her voice was like having to listen to ten, obnoxiously loud women all talking at him at the same time. Truly, with his wants, needs, and feeling not making her list of important considerations, everything was always all about her.

After having watched so many reruns of Ozzie and Harriet, Father Knows Best, The Donna Reed Show, Leave it to Beaver, and the Walton's, he had imagined living that life with his wife one day. Only, his home life wasn't a made for TV family show. Even though he comfortably lived the good life in a big house in suburbia, because of Ruth, sometimes he felt as if he lived in Hell. He even checked his address to make sure that the number on his house wasn't 666.

Ruth was a drunk and a whore. He wished she'd leave him. He needed to leave her. He wished she'd go for good. He needed to go for good. He wished she'd die. She made him wish he were dead. Only, if he had to see her in Hell when he died, then he wished he'd live forever.

* * * * *

Because of his upbringing and how he perceived a marriage should be, he had an impossibly difficult time making the final decision to divorce her. No one in his family divorced, not his grandparents, nor his parents, nor his brother, nor his sister. Even though they were all unhappy, miserable actually, for the sake of the house, the children, and money, they stayed together as they vowed to do. Only, he wanted something more than dread and misery. He wanted love and happiness.

"...Until death do you part," he said shaking his head in sadness.

No doubt, the end of their marriage would have happened years ago, had he not quit his job as a college, physical chemistry professor to take a more lucrative position as the President of a Fortune 500 company. The fact that he traveled so much and was seldom home, made their relationship much more tolerable. With him not home to listen to her shit, he'd be off having sex with young women in the way that she'd be home having sex with young men. Quite by accident, with her doing her thing and him doing his thing, their marriage had morphed from the worst marriage possible to a dream marriage.

Just as Ruth became impossible and his marriage became intolerable, he was on his way out the door to the airport to catch a flight. Just as he thought he'd go mad having to listen to Ruth talking to him and complaining at him, he was living out of a suitcase in some hotel or motel with a paid escort by his side. Then, whenever he returned home from traveling, a happy ending he enjoyed having, he imagined her not being there. He imagined coming home to an empty house. He imagined living alone or living with a woman who truly loved him for the man that he was. He wouldn't even care if Ruth took all of the furniture, just as long as she'd leave and never return.

"Bye! Good riddance! Don't worry about the door hitting you in your ass, I'll just kick your ass to the curb," he imagined saying to her.

A fantasy he had when on his way home on the plane, he wished she'd pack her bags and takeoff with some, young guy she had been fucking and sucking. Immediately changing his mood from being content to being angry and to being anxious, he spotted Christopher's car parked across from his house. His first impulse was to flatten his tires or to concoct some sort of flammable, chemical solution that would combust as soon as he started his car.

Having to give him credit for that, at least he didn't have the gall to park his car in the driveway. He just hoped they weren't up in his bedroom. Judging by the light in the front of the house, he figured they were still in the living room having sex or sleeping after having sex and after getting drunk. Whenever he went away, she was always drunk. While he was working to give her the lifestyle she had grown accustomed to living, fucking, sucking, and drinking was what she did the entire time he was gone.

"God, I'm such a sap. If she's not the epitome of a cheating wife and if I'm not a cuckold husband than I don't know what is," he said talking to himself while sitting in the back of his cab.

Explaining why they've all been so standoffish lately, the neighbors seeming all knew his wife was having extramarital affairs with men whenever he traveled. How could they not know with the men in and out of his house whenever he was away? People aren't stupid and with Ruth complaining to anyone who'd listen, they all knew that she was unhappy. Besides, with some of her boy toys staying overnight whenever his daughter wasn't home, how could his neighbors not know that his wife was cheating on him? As if she was a dirty dog, with her always drunk and howling at the moon, a bitch in heat, always there were men sniffing around his wife. At the chance of bedding a MILF, an older woman, a cougar with a hot body, there were always young men ready and willing to exchange booze for sex.

* * * * *

With his wife a real cum slut, just for curiosity sake, he wished he could have measured all of the cum his wife had swallowed over the years. He wished he could have measured all of the cum that young men ejaculated in her mouth, in her hand, in her pussy, and no doubt, in her ass. No doubt, he probably could fill a 42 gallon barrel of the hundreds, maybe even thousands, of men's cum that she's sucked and fucked over the years. Only, to make matters worse, what she willingly does for other men, she refused to do for him. How dare she so disrespect him by denying him sex? Strangers she just met, men who aren't her husband, and men who don't mean anything to her in the way that he obviously doesn't mean anything to her, she gives them sex when she won't give him sex.

Hard to believe but true, never had she sucked his cock. Nope, not once, never, ever had she taken his erect prick past her lips and in her mouth. Never had she allowed him to fuck her in her ass, not that he would as anal sex doesn't appeal to him. Yet, maybe he would if she allowed him to fuck her in her ass. He couldn't even remember the last time he ejaculated in her pussy. Unable to even remember when they had sex last, it's been years since they had sex. Thank God she denied him sex, actually. He'd probably get Herpes or worse from sticking his cock in her.

She didn't even have to confess for him to know she had been unfaithful. It was obvious to him that there was something going on behind his back. With his daughter, Kim, on his side and always in his corner, overly protective of her father against her mother, no doubt feeling conflicted, she sometimes told him all that had happened when he was traveling and not home. Kim sometimes overheard her mother's telephone conversations or had seen men coming to the door looking for her mother. Brazen enough to do so, some of these men think that they can just show up at his front door at any hour of the day or night looking for Ruth and looking for sex.

"Ruth! Ruth! Open the door. I brought booze," said more than one of her lovers. "I'm horny. I need to fuck you. I need you to blow me. Ruth? Hey Ruth! Open the door."

Always it ended with the neighbors calling the police and her lover being arrested for being drunk, disorderly, and disturbing the peace. If only for public appearance sake, he wished she'd be more discreet. He wished she just leave. He wished she'd just die.

With the neighbors suspecting his wife of being a cheating slut and a cock sucking whore, her being an unfaithful wife was one thing but her being a cunt by rubbing his neighbors' noses in her dirty laundry was something else. Moreover to actually see Chris's car parked in front of his house while knowing he was inside of his house with his wife and no doubt inside of his wife was demoralizing, emasculating, and a blow to his ego. Obviously, with him still there at this late hour and probably too drunk to drive home, he was Ruth's overnight guest. Now forgetting about work and his trip, all he could think of was his wife fucking and sucking Christopher and God knows who else during the time he was away in Japan on business.

* * * * *

Jay hated the man. He hated that Chris was in his house when he wasn't there. If it wasn't enough that Chris was sexually using his wife, he hated that he may be touching his things and going through his personal, private stuff. He hated that he was getting from his wife what she denied giving him. It's not fair that she fucks and sucks all of these men when she doesn't suck and fuck him. With him supporting her, that's just not right. If she wants to have her nasty, drunken affairs that's fine with him but the least she could do is to suck his cock, allow him to cum in her mouth, and allow him to treat her as the whore that she is.

Torturing himself by thinking of all the dirty and nasty sexual details they were doing behind closed doors, he wondered if Ruth allowed Chris and all of her men to feel and fondle her breasts while fingering and sucking her nipples. No doubt, she does. Of course she does. Why wouldn't she deny them feeling and fondling her breasts while fingering and sucking her nipples in the way she denies him feeling and fondling her breasts while fingering and sucking her nipples? She's proud of her breasts. She loves her big, shapely breasts.

With her no longer allowing him to touch her tits or finger her pussy, he loved her breasts as much as he used to love eating her pussy. When they were dating and were first married, he used to bury his face in her bushy, brown pussy while reaching up to feel and fondle her breasts and pull, turn, and twist her nipples. She loved having her pussy licked and fingered. She had beautiful, shapely breasts, a large B, small C rack and he loved sucking on her nipples. Only, a long time since they had sex, he couldn't remember when she allowed him to have his wicked, sexual way with any part of her naked body. He couldn't remember when he felt her tits and fingered her nipples, never mind remembering the last time she allowed him to lick her pussy.

When he paid for everything, how dare she so blatantly disrespect him by having sex with others in his house of all places? When she denied him sex, how could she have sex with other men and not have sex with him, her own husband? When she acted like she doesn't even like sex, why would she suck and fuck other men instead of him? Maybe she loved sex but just not with him. Maybe with him not drinking with her anymore, she needed to be drunk to have sex with him. When he was good to her, kind with her, patient with her, and generous with her, what was wrong with him that she rejected him to have sex with others?

"You're no fun," she said to him more than once while she sipped her third martini and only stopped her drinking to eat one of her olives.

If how she lived her life was her idea of fun, drunk and whoring around, he didn't want any part of her fun. Memories that kept him sexually sated, he harbored the memories of having sex with all of those young, Japanese women. He saved the memories of all of those other women he bedded across the country. He no longer needed his wife to give him sex. Now, even if she offered him sex, just out of principle, hurt, stubbornness, hatred, and the shame of her having rejected him, he'd be the one to reject her.

Just once, in the way she always turned away from him in bed and left him horny and sexually frustrated, he'd love to turn his back to her and leave her horny and sexually frustrated. Only now that they had separate bedrooms, any time he wants sex, he'd masturbate himself while thinking of the all the women he had sex with and all the women he'd like to bed. Only, if ever he rejected her for sex in the way she always rejected him for sex, knowing her in the way he now does, she'd be spiteful. She'd be revengeful. She'd fuck and suck one of his neighbors or one of his friends just to upset him. If his brother and father didn't live so far away, no doubt, she'd have sex with them too. He was surprised she didn't have sex with some of his employees.

If he rejected her for sex, no big deal to her, she'd just get what she sexually needed from someone else. She had several longtime lovers that he knew about over the years, some were his friends and others were his neighbors? She had even gotten herself pregnant by another man, his neighbor and ex-friend, Jack, but fortunately, she lost the baby. He should have kicked her ass to the curb then. He should have divorced her ass then. Foolishly, he was willing for her to have the baby. Foolishly, he was willing to pay for the upbringing of someone else's child.

He wondered just how many other men she had sex with that he didn't know about. Elephants in his bed, in his head, and on his living room sofa, he never asked her about her affairs and she never volunteered any information about her lovers. He'd rather remain ignorant to all that she does when he was not around. He'd rather not know. The last thing he wanted to hear was her pillow talk about all the men that she fucked and sucked.

When they were together, they acted like any other, normal, married couple. Yet, even back then, strangely odd, even though she gave him sex, she never sucked his cock. Even though she was nearly two years older than he was, she preferred having sex with younger men. When they were first together, she had sex with him but that all stopped when he turned 30-years-old. She preferred having sex with men in their 20's instead of having sex with men in their 30's or older. Jack was her last exception to her rule of bedding younger men.

* * * * *

When his daughter was away at school for a while and he was working and/or away traveling, for all that he knew or cared, Ruth could have had a whole houseful of men. He wondered why she was even still with him, obviously for the money, the health insurance, and for the financial security. With him nothing more than her human ATM machine, the last straw was seeing Chris's car parked across the street. A visual reminder that he needed to divorce her, he was really done with her now. He'd see a divorce attorney in the morning. A longtime coming, after 25 years, their marriage was now officially over. He should have gotten rid of her years ago.

Fuming and feeling as if steam was coming out of his ears, not because she cheated on him but because she continually used him and constantly abused him, he was seething in the backseat of the cab. With her done with him years ago and with him finally done with her now, he didn't care that she was having sex with others. He didn't care that she was drinking herself to death. He didn't care that she was fucking and sucking his neighbors, his friends, and/or the small army of young men she picked up at the mall and God only knows where else and who else.