Coconut

"Hi honey," she said.

I could hear people talking in the background, laughing, the clink of glassware. Some country song was playing too loud. She wasn't in the office.

"Where are you?" I asked. "Why aren't you home yet?"

"I'm at a very nice lounge."

"What the hell are you doing there? Do you want me to come--"

"No, I don't. I have... I have a date."

I stopped breathing. My eyes lost focus. A date? There was only one thing a 45-year-old woman, who up until a second ago I thought happily married, meant by that.

"Whaaa...." I could not get the words to form.

"It's just one night. I will be home in the morning, then I will be all yours again."

"You... you want to cheat on me?"

"It's not cheating if you know about it beforehand," she said.

I regained my ability to speak and shouted, "The fuck it isn't. You get back home right now!"

"Please, dear. Try to understand. The kids are all gone. Our days are boring. This will spice up our sex life."

"No! It will not! Do not do this!"

"Oh, dear," she said reproachfully. "We have been married for 25 years. This will be just one night out of all those nights we have been together."

"Fuck you. If you do this we are done!"

She laughed. "After all we have been through, honey? I will be home tomorrow and tell you all about it."

She disconnected and I stared at the phone in my hand.

I called back but it went to voice mail. I began to shout at the beep but realized it was futile.

I needed to leave now, find her before she could do this. It would kill our marriage. Even the fact that she had set it up was going to do major damage to us.

I hated her right now, but I could not let her do whatever she was planning on doing with some picked up random asshole. She could get hurt.

I tried to find her phone, but it was unreachable. She had turned it off. Damn!

I thought about calling the police, then realized how that conversation would go. I would end up even more humiliated than I was at the moment.

I jumped up from the sofa and began to pace around the living room. How could she do such a thing? What had broken in her mind to make her think I would allow it, that I could overlook it?

No. Our marriage ended the minute I answered her call.

I sat down at the computer with a fierce determination. I felt like crying, but knew if I gave in to that emotion I would just melt and be useless.

I knew what needed to be done. I would Google a divorce attorney and set up an appointment. I would move half the money out of our joint account into a personal account I could set up online. I would go to my employer's benefits site and change my beneficiaries--

But I could do none of that. Fucking Comcast was dead. Spinning balls and timed out pages.

I cursed and ripped a sheet of paper from a pad. I started making a list of financial moves to make once the internet was back up.

I rummaged under the sink and grabbed the dark rum. I mixed a very strong rum and coke and drained it, then made another and took it to the bedroom. I lay down on top of the covers and mourned our marriage. I let myself cry.

I lay staring at the ceiling for a long long time. Then I heard her car in the drive.

I sprang up. I was momentarily excited until I remembered where she had been. Then I was burning hot with rage.

Had she called it off? Had he not shown up? Either way, it didn't matter. The cheating slut was going to be flushed out of my life.

I decided not to rush out like I was anxious. I would sit in my bedroom chair and wait. I dried my eyes and made myself impassive.

I heard her open the front door and go into the guest bathroom. I heard water running.

Isn't that what the cheating wife always does? Showers off her lover's drying semen, the sweat, the saliva?

But it was just the sink. Then minutes of silence.

She came into the bedroom.

She wore a sheer black blouse with no bra and a crimson miniskirt. I could see her large pink nipples as clearly as if she had been naked. Her four-inch black heels matched her top. She wore no stockings. Jesus, she had gone out in public like that? That getup had a specific message. It said I am available to fuck.

Where was my modest loving wife? This cunt had killed her.

She looked me in the eyes and lifted her skirt.

She wasn't wearing panties, either.

I started to hyperventilate. Her bush was shiny with some kind of liquid. Shit, I knew what kind. It was her lover's cum mixed with her cunt juices.

She reached down with one hand and spread her lips. The other hand went to a breast and squeezed.

Her pussy dripped thick white globs. I could smell her from across the room.

"He was thick," she said in a husky voice. She took her hand from her breast and made a circle with thumb and forefinger indicating his cock had the girth of a beer bottle.

I could take no more. The logical part of my brain wanted to tell her that our life partnership was dissolved, that the legal issues were going to be--

But the lizard caveman part of my brain was in control, and I jumped across the distance between us in a twinkling. I don't know how my pants came in that short distance, but they did.

I shoved her back onto the bed and lunged at her. My cock drove into her faithless cunt like a Viking's sword killing an enemy.

She squealed and shrieked as I slammed her.

"You cheating whore!" I grunted. "You fucking no good slut!"

She screamed. An intense orgasm gripped her like a seizure. Twenty-five years of fucking and I knew her cunt well enough to know when she came.

But she had never cum like that.

I thought maybe the guy with the massive cock had not gotten her off, just dumped his load and tossed her out. She did not feel stretched--

And that was enough to bust my dam. I thrust and drove and hammered into her as my balls erupted. Over and over and over and over....

I lay on top of her, both of us breathing hard as if we had just sprinted a mile.

This was the last fuck of our married life, I thought, with post orgasm clarity and sadness.

Then the bitch reached down between us to where I was inside her and brought up her hand. And jammed her fingers into my mouth.

I wrenched my head back, spitting. The cunt had pushed his cum into my mouth!

I reached my hand back to slap her--

She started to giggle.

It tasted like--

Coconut.

Images flashed in my mind's eye.

In the guest bath. A pile of clothes. A black blouse on top. A plastic bottle about the same girth as a beer bottle next to the sink. A plastic bottle of coconut oil.

"You--" I choked.

She laughed until the tears rolled in black mascara trails down her cheeks.

"You need to stop leaving your browser window open when you read dirty stories."

Oh, shit. That was why her patter on the phone had sounded so familiar. I got so mad I couldn't recognize the trope.

"So you didn't--" I whispered lamely.

"Of course not." She wrapped her arms and legs around me and tried to squeeze the life out of me. "I am not stupid enough to ever cheat on the best husband a woman could ask for."

"But... what if I had a gun and killed you when you came home? What if I had gone online and moved all our money? Or made stupid rage posts on Reddit using your real name?"

She kissed me. "High risk, high reward." As she said the word reward, she tightened her pussy muscles. I groaned. "We don't have a gun. And I unscrewed the cable coming into the house before I left. My 'date' was me drinking a Cosmo and bullshitting with the bartender down at the Tavern. I told her my plan. She thought it was romantic."

"Oh." The decompression from emasculated insane rage to relief was making my head spin. Literally. The room rotated for a few seconds.

"Do you think it was romantic?" she asked slyly.

"I'm not sure I would call it that."

She grinned into my chest. "I felt you cum. It was like a jet right into my cervix. It lasted a while. Felt like it felt good."

"It did. And you?"

She kissed me.

"Top ten all time."

I raised up on an elbow. "You do know that fantasies about sharing you with another man are just that, don't you?"

"I absolutely do," she said. "And I will never share you with another real woman." She winked.

I did not know whether this was going to put me off Pina Coladas.

Or make me crave them.