Could I Be Wrong?

Completely fictitious story. Any fictitious sex is between consenting fictitious adults.

"Inconceivable!" Vizzini, "The Princess Bride"

When we married, I thought he would be my man, partner, hero, lover, best friend, and soulmate for life.

I always assumed I'd be a loving and faithful wife, true to her man through thick and thin, never even looking at another, much less betraying my vows and my marriage.

The first time I saw "him" we'd been married eight years and were thinking of starting our larger family. I paid him little mind, but there was something... mysterious, naughty, and calculated about his lingering gaze, I knew I'd put it out of my mind and ignore his undressing me with his eyes.

I was certain my husband was overreacting when he warned me to be careful of this predator, a man known to steal wives and bed them as so many trophies. I would never fall for such toxic masculinity. I was a wise woman of the world, who loved her mate and would never be duped. I was grossly offended that my spouse thought so little of my strength.

The first time he fucked me, I was mortified that I'd fallen prey to his advances. His timing was perfect, right after one of our rare marital fights, part of which he witnessed at a social gathering. Hubby left town on business the next day for a week, I was still in a huff when this skilled hunter stopped by for a "supportive chat." Sixty minutes later I was on my hands and knees in our marriage bed being fucked senseless by this conniving snake I let into our garden. After he left, I vowed it would never happen again and was certain of my self-discipline.

After the third romp of the week hubby was gone, in the front seat of his Audi R8 convertible, I told him I was done. I didn't know what came over me or why I'd been such a fool to fall for his machinations, but my man would be home tomorrow, and I was going to end this torrid sexual liaison immediately. He smiled a wicked smile and said, "sure."

I was certain my loving husband never suspected a thing. Clean sheets, horny wife in sexy lingerie, a bottle of his favorite Napa Cab and night of hot sex when he came home. My confidence in my ability to use my womanly wiles to pull the wool over his overly simple view of the fairer sex was brimming over. I hadn't been caught.

My pride led me to believe I could keep a lover on the side and my beloved would never find out, never know of my betrayal. Two or three times a month for almost a year I let loose all my carnal desires with my stud. Hotel rooms, his private office, obscure and remote parking lots and even my marriage bed on occasion were all points of explosive sexual rendezvous, so convinced was I that hubby was blind to my cheating.

I was certain the deputy sheriff who approached me, asking for ID, and then gleefully announcing, "You've been served" must have made some dreadful mistake. My loving spouse would never do such a thing, humiliating me in front of my co-workers and boss, perhaps putting my employment at risk.

I knew as I drove home in tears that if I could just get him to listen to reason he'd give in and forgive me. My confidence in my ability to manipulate and control him would win that day, of this I was sure. Words and phrases like "soulmate, meaningless sex, growing old together, starting our family" coupled with uninhibited sex, even giving him my ass, which up until this point had been reserved only for my lover, would put him in his place and allow us to forget such an awful idea as divorce, moving on with our marriage.

I was shocked to hear his proof of my infidelity after I thought I'd been so careful, so smart, so smug. He'd known for six months but had delayed while he built his strategy and made his plans. There was no way he was correct in his claim we hadn't had sex in over two months because he couldn't abide the idea of touching me while I gave myself away to a man about whom he'd warned me, and I'd so glibly believed couldn't persuade me to abandon my promises to be true to my loving spouse.

He couldn't have been smart enough to track down our raunchy sexual escapades, but there in living color and black and white were dozens of photos that could just as easily been published on a porn site. Doggy style with my hair being pulled and my ass spanked. Riding him dressed up as a schoolgirl. At his condo in his favorite, my nurse's outfit. And in our marriage bed wearing my upstairs maid uniform all while getting my brains fucked out. It was impossible he had such evidence.

No, no, no, it couldn't be that my good and kind man would send all this information to family and friends, beginning with my parents and siblings then extending as far as friends we knew in college. He'd never subject me to such public shame.

There was no way his bespeckled puny lawyer was better than my man-hating take no prisoner's female shark. I would get the lion's share and make him rue the day he crossed swords with me.

This couldn't be happening!!! The judge can't be siding with him and his mousy legal counsel. It was impossible that he'd keep the house and seventy-five percent of the assets. I was hearing words like "iron clad pre-nup and wanton disregard for marriage, and disgraceful behavior," but they weren't registering. This had to be a nightmare and I'd wake up any minute.

My now ex-husband would meet me in the hallway and listen to my final apology which I'd make sound so sincere. He'd then begin to forgive me and eventually take me back. After all, men really are so weak.

Since my ex was gone from the courthouse in a flash, ignoring my cries to, "Wait a moment so we can talk," I'd call my lover and move in with him. He was better anyway, and I'd show my former spouse just how pathetic he truly was.

I hung up the phone in disbelief. My paramour had just laughed and laughed at the notion that he'd take me in, and we'd be together. It wasn't possible that he just told me, "I was a fun fuck while it lasted but he wasn't into used goods." I didn't just hear him say I could whore myself out for decent money to some folks he knew upstate.

Alone? I couldn't be alone. It made no sense that almost everyone I knew, except for my mother, refused to even talk with me. It was unfathomable that even my dear mom, while being kind, wouldn't let me move in with her.

I'm standing in a parking lot, isolated and lonesome with a positive STD report from my doctor in my hands... Inconceivable!

In retrospect, I think I may have been mistaken.