Confession Of A Confused Husband

This is all an exercise. It really is. I want to confess but I am not sure what for. I have done nothing wrong and shouldn't be the one who feels such a need. But I do. It has become a compulsion. I am embarrassed at the things that I do and of my thoughts when I think of . . . it. Maybe if I simply tell the story, I could gain a measure of relief. They call it cathartic, right? But who would I tell this to? A friend? No, no, no. For all the obvious reasons. So I will tell you. And I will call you "Reader". Please excuse the generic term. I know you are a person and have a real name but I just don't know it. And I am begging you for your thoughts. Please write back when you can. So here goes . . .

Dear Reader,

Without any prelude, the story is this:

After 12 years of marriage and 15 years together, Sylvia and I separated two years ago for a total duration of two months. The children were the primary concern and we decided that custody should be joint. As not to interrupt their schooling we agreed to the unusual arrangement that, on a monthly basis, Sylvia and I would alternate living in the Long Island home. The other of the two would live in the New York City apartment during that time. The children would live, at all times, in Long Island but could visit the spouse staying in the apartment on weekends if there were no conflicts such as soccer games or engagements with other children.

For the first month, Sylvia stayed in Long Island with the children and moved to the apartment when my month in Long Island commenced. After the second month of the separation was completed and I was about to move back to New York City, we decided to reconcile and have been together ever since. The arrangement was becoming too taxing on all involved.

We immediately enrolled in couples' counseling with one of the finest professionals in the field. During the course of one of the initial meetings, the therapist said that there was to be no discussion of our two months apart as this wasn't an example of how to deal with our problems. He said that any other people we dated during that time need to be permanently cut from our lives. I commented that wasn't applicable to our situation as we have only been apart two months. But Sylvia was silent. Her silence and eyes showed a guilt and my rage began to mount. Both the therapist and I gazed at her until she blurted out, "I saw one person. I didn't think we would ever be back together and wanted to move on with my life." The therapist stopped her there and said there was to be no talk of it but my blood had come to a BOIL. I don't remember anything of the rest of the session or of the next few days. I couldn't work, eat or sleep and became OBSESSED with finding out about this person Sylvia had been seeing. I resorted to technical sleuthing.

If there was evidence to be found, it would reside within Sylvia's email account to which I had no access. Sylvia is also rarely without her laptop and doesn't log into her account from any computer except her own. When we were both home, I began asking her to send me pictures or documents to my business email account just as I knew she was about to leave the house. Usually she took her laptop with her. Other times she shut it down. Other times she navigated away from her email account and the password was not retained. She noticed one time that I was a little too interested and close when she was logging in and was very guarded for the next couple of months. I was trying to eyeball her password but didn't catch it.

Then, about four months later, she was leaving for the day to visit with her mother. I asked her to send a particular picture of the children taken by one of our friends and sent to her account as she had her car keys already in hand. She said she would do it when she returned but I made up an excuse why I had immediate need. She relented and when she was about to shut down the laptop, it began some type of software update and she wasn't able. Thinking the laptop would click off after the update was complete, she left it to shut down on its own. The second the door closed, I pounced and was able to discontinue the update and, when I did so, the Firefox window was open but not at her Yahoo account. My fingers were nervous as I hit the backwards arrow until I was in her email box. When I attempted to navigate to the main inbox screen, I fully expected to get a notice that the session had expired or a pop-up requesting password information. But I didn't.

I knew Sylvia was an email queen but wasn't prepared for the amazing number of sub folders and her complicated cataloging system. My first stop was her Sent folder which was empty. Then, one by one, I started meticulously going through each and every sub folder. In an innocuous sub folder labeled with the name of one her charitable groups, I came across an email from a one "Michael C." with a subject line that read "Robert and Cindy's Party". The date was two days after she moved to the New York City apartment. While still on the Michael C. email, I clicked the From button on the top and when the order was rearranged, there were approximately 100 emails from Michael to Sylvia.

I was now in a jealous and angry rage as I began reading each email word by word and slowly analyzing every phrase. I didn't realize this until I began reading but the email on the top was the oldest and as I descended the communications were progressively more recent so I was reading a story from the beginning. What I read caused such a WHITE HOT fury that it melted my perspective on everything and has left me as I am today.

Robert and Cindy are old friends of ours. Robert was a business partner and also my attorney. He and his wife Cindy live in SoHo in an amazing converted artist loft. I gleaned that they happened to be having a party the very first evening Sylvia had moved into our New York City apartment to begin her one month stay and Cindy issued her a last minute invitation. It turns out Michael C. was an associate in Robert's firm. He was invited to the party because Cindy wanted to set him up with a daughter of a friend. The friend's daughter was a no-show but, under circumstances that weren't made clear from the communications, Michael C. and Sylvia exchanged personal email addresses at the gathering. Michael did not use his work address but, instead, a Gmail account.

Michael C.'s initial communication was generic, deferential and brief. He said it was wonderful meeting her last evening, he hopes that he didn't bore her or prevent her from talking to her other friends and concluded the missive by asking her out on a date. Sylvia's reply was telling. She was flattered but reticent and pointed out the age difference. She told Michael C. that she was 39 when, actually, she was 41. He was 25. He accepted the polite rejection and the two of them decided that they could be friends.

Over the next couple of days, Sylvia poured out her heart to Michael C. mostly concerning our crumbling marriage. She pointed out my failings as a husband and a person. She alluded to an affair that she suspected me of having. I never knew that she knew. It was short lived and inappropriate but it did happen. He listened intently and offered only obvious advice but she seemed appreciative to receive it. She used the word "lonely" more than once. I know that Michael C. read that to mean sexually lonely although he didn't say it. She said how we had drifted apart in all aspects of our lives. She didn't expressly say in the bedroom but I know Michael C. understood the implication.

They agreed to meet for dinner one evening. Michael C. must have taken this to mean that the nature of their relationship was changing and he tried to make out with her at the end of the evening. Sylvia, flustered, turned and grabbed a cab home. Michael C. was EXTREMELY apologetic. He emailed her to express his regret. She accepted his apology and they emailed each other many times into the early morning hours, the last email was at approximately 3 AM thanking Sylvia for acceptance of an invitation for a meeting that each agreed would be a first "date". He was successful in convincing her that spending her time in mourning a terminal mariage wasn't going to improve the situation. He noted that she was lonely because she was afraid of allowing anyone else into her life. She said the mishap of that evening was on account of not being ready just yet. When asked if she might be ready the following day, she responded that she would be. I was witnessing the seduction of my wife.

The emails slowed in frequency and substance. They must have been communicating more by phone and in person. His messages had gone from playful to suggestive. He had a habit of emailing her after each date and after a few he lamented that fact that she was not willing to be alone with him out of fear of what might happen. To counter the allegation, she accepted an invitation for dinner at his apartment. He said he wasn't a chef but would put forth his best effort.

The email following the dinner made it clear that they were engaged in some heavy petting, that she allowed him to, at least, partially undress her. Michael C. bemoaned the fact that she rejected his invitation to spend the night. He said he never wanted someone so badly and asked when she was going to host a dinner for the two of them at OUR APARTMENT. Without hesitation, she offered a date in two days time. When he cheekily asked whether he should bring along pajamas, she cheekily responded "only if you want to". The next email down was from him and dated the day after Sylvia hosted the dinner. It was painful to open because I knew what was coming. He thanked her for an evening of bliss. He had awoken that next morning in our bed. Michael C. was late for work and contemplated Robert's reaction if he told him the real reason. This was excruciating to endure but not nearly as much as what would follow.

The emails had slowed. The ones that remained were more practical than insightful. Terms of endearment, such as "honey" and "sweetie" were liberally tossed around. The children went to stay with Sylvia in the City one weekend midway through my one month custody out in Long Island. After the children had gone to bed, Michael C. and Sylvia began emailing. He convinced her to move to the room furthest from the children to have phone sex with him. She eagerly complied.

Not being completely satiated, he started emailing her later in the evening to say that he was masturbating while looking at pictures of her. Sylvia's reply was nothing more than typed out giggles. Then he started emailing one photograph at a time with not so clever catch phrases. He always typed in a casual manner. I will do my best to recreate the not so clever tag lines in a parenthetical and in quotes followed by a description of the picture.

Photo No. 1 ("ggaawwdd, you look hhaawwtt") - Sylvia is indoors and sitting on a big cushioned chair. The location appears to be a small club. She is highly made-up and wearing a low cut, black button down sleeveless top, a very short black mini-skirt, black stockings that are roll-up as the elastic top is visible at the skirt hem and black heels. She is smiling.

Photo No. 2 ("a little tipsy, are we?") - Sylvia is in our apartment. Her legs are scissored up and down with the backs of her knees on the arm rest of our love seat. Her head is leaning on the other arm rest with her body across. She appears to be a little drunk and is raising a glass of white wine in the air. She is barefoot and wearing only what appears to be a white body stocking. The body stocking looks to be a fine mesh and her dark areolae are plainly visible. The picture doesn't show this but if she were in a different position, I am certain that her closely cropped dark brown pubic hair would also be visible. I have never located this garment though I have looked for it. This was the only one of the photos likely not taken the same night as Photo No. 1.

Photo No. 3 ("can someone please turn down the a/c????????") - Sylvia has on the same top as in Photo No. 1 except that it is unbuttoned to her waist. The photo is only of her torso, chin to navel. She is wearing a black bra that clasps in the front but it had been pulled down so that her erect nipples are exposed peeking over the tops of the maniplated cups. Her nipples appear to be wet from his saliva. Sylvia has a petite and athletic body. She is half Latina and half Italian. She has a modest bust and shockingly long and bulbous nipples when engorged. She is extremely self conscious about her nipples in professional and social settings and often wears heavily padded brassieres not to appear chesty but to mask her noticeable bumps. This bra is thin and unpadded and she does not appear self conscious. Her bulging, dark nipples were a curiosity for me when we first met and they appear been that way to Michael C as well.

Photo No. 4 ("and what is so funny, young lady????") - Sylvia's head is thrown to the side and she is caught in mid-laugh. This was not a giggle but more like a belly laugh or a laugh of surprise. You might get this reaction if you blindfold someone and dip their hand into a jar of slime. She is sitting on our couch. Her top is completely open but on and her bra is dangling to the sides unclasped with her breasts unconcealed. Her arm is fully extended and as far from her body as it can be. Her fingers are wrapped around a hard cock so thick that the red fingernails on on her thumb and middle finger are about an inch apart even though she appears to have a tight grip. I can recreate the effect by trying to reach my hand around a .5 liter bottle of Poland Spring water. Of course Sylvia's hands are smaller, even with the nails, but it is the same proportion. And it is long too, Reader. He is uncircumcised, dripping pre-cum and has dark pubic hair.

Photo No. 5 ("are you sure this is good for my teeth?") - Sylvia is sitting on our couch. The photographer is standing. Her big brown eyes are looking up at the camera and his cock is in her mouth. Her lipstick is smeared on his shaft. The head and another inch or two of his hardness are across her tongue not visible.

Photo No. 6 ("open up and say...... hhhhhhhHHHHHHMMMMMMMM........ oh....... oH...... OOOOOOHHHHHHHH

") - The scene has shifted to our bedroom. Our light comfortor provides a backdrop. This is a close-up of Sylvia's unmistakably, manicured vagina. She is on her back and her legs are spread. Her panties are on but pulled to the side. Her dark folds are plainly wet and a bit of her slick pink opening is visible. Michael C.'s HUGE hard cock sits poised at the opening. He may have been sliding the head up and down her slit as the tip is glistening. He is not wearing a condom.

Photo No. 7 ("this is what you get when you are very good") - Sylvia is on her back on our bed. Her head is to the side and her eyes are shut tight. The thumb and index finger of her right hand pull at her taut right nipple. She looks flushed and sweaty. His one arm is visible and holding him up over her vulnerable body. I am sure he is fucking her in the missionary position although their genitals are not visible in the photo.

Photo No. 8 ("this is what you get when you are very bad") - The photographer extended his camera hand to take a side view. Reader, he is FUCKING her from behind on our bed. He is on the back stroke and I can see about half of the enormous cock he is about to plunge into her. She is on her knees with her ass in the air. Her butt cheeks are red like he had been fucking her that way for some time and with a degree of force. Or spanking her. Her arms are flat out in front of her and her face is buried in the comforter. Her modest breasts and hard nipples hang down.

Photo No. 9 ("sorry for the mess. next time i will be more considerate and cum in your mouth ; )") - The photo is of Sylvia's upper torso and lips. Her breasts and still hard nipples are covered with cum. She appears to have been rubbing the cum into her breasts with one hand. There is a pool of cum in the hollow of her neck and it is dripping from her chin and the side of her cheek. The head of his leaking cock is at the bottom of the picture. It appears that he sprayed cum all over her face.

From other emails, that were devastatingly graphic at the end, from both Michael C. and Sylvia, I learned that Sylvia expressed a sexual freedom with him that she never did with me. This guy, after a couple of weeks, had tread on ground that I haven't. For example, in no particular order, she (i) let him cum in her mouth, (ii) let him cum on her face, (iii) gave him a blow job in a taxi, (iv) let him talk dirty to her, (v) engaged him in phone sex and (vi) encouraged him to come over and fuck her whenever he was horny. He bragged about fucking her five times in one evening and giving her countless orgasms.

She said in one email that she was both sore and wet thinking about the previous evening. I also learned that he fucked her a couple of times after we had 'reconciled'. She finally ended the affair through an email message. He said he loved her. And she said that she loved him. She also said she frequently thought of him and his "smooth, 10 inch, thick toy" and wondered what might have become of them if circumstances were different. I have never brought any of this up to Sylvia.

So there you have it. You can draw your own parallels and conclusions. I am going to do no editing as I cannot stand the thought of re-reading this so if it isn't as polished as it could be, that is the reason. I look forward to hearing your thoughts.

Your friend,

Steve