That first email was a shocker. It was like, "We know who you are, and we know your wife is cheating on you." I felt like a spy whose cover had been blown. There was only one way to describe my feelings -- absolute, total betrayal. A cuckold club? Who told them I was one of them? My slut wife? They called themselves a support group. Since when do cuckolds have support groups? Talk about ludicrous. Even as I sneered at the concept, I clicked 'Reply' and 'Send.' In less than a minute, I received the time, date, and place of the orientation meeting. It proved to be a very smart move.
My life hasn't changed much -- Sally is still bed-hopping -- but at least knowing I'm not the only man with an unfaithful wife had made it bearable. I went to my first evening meeting two months after the orientations. I guess they keep you away from the night meets to see if you have the guts to stick it out. I heard five speakers that first night. Man, they really opened my eyes. Here I am at my second night group, and I'm talking first.
"Hi, I'm George, and I'm a cuckold."
"Hi, George."
My wife and I manage an apartment complex with two hundred or so units. Generally, she runs the office, and I take care of the maintenance. We got the job right after we graduated from college. We didn't have much money or credit, so when we saw the ad that said free rent, we called immediately. I was very surprised we got the job with no relevant experience. We couldn't afford a deposit on an apartment. The little money we had went for minimum basic furniture like a bed and a breakfast table Our style could be called 'early thrift shop.' Things have improved for us over the past five years. As we acquired newer and better things we gave the old stuff back to the thrift stores.
Sally deserves much of the credit for our early success, although I would have preferred she used a different sales technique. Part of our pay was a commission for each new tenant we rented to. You guessed right. Every time a man came in, she would take him to the furnished sample apartment. I thought it was rather strange she would have to go back to that unit right after she did a showing. The tenant turnover was high enough to keep our commissions above average for the management company as a whole. I suppose I shouldn't complain considering the fiscal benefits I have enjoyed. I'm sorry; I'm getting ahead of myself.
I should tell you a little about us so you can understand how things happened the way they did. We met in college, freshman English if I remember right. We hit it off immediately. By our third date, we were ready to hop into bed. Her parents were less than thrilled when she brought me home for spring break in our sophomore year, but they tolerated our sharing her bedroom. Her mother confided to me later that she and Sally's father had done the same thing when they were in school. Her parents made them use separate rooms. Sally's dad came around when we became engaged in our junior year. We got married when we were seniors. By then it was too late to get married student housing, so we finished school in our dorm rooms.
Sally is a very foxy lady. Her shoulder length light brown hair frames her heart-shaped face. She has high, wide cheek bones, jade green eyes, a natural smile that shows her perfect teeth. Her hourglass figure could turn my grandfather's head; in fact, it has more than once. He once commented he wished he was twenty years older so she wouldn't bother him so much.
I've probably known what's going on for about a year. I work in the office, too, from time to time. We have a pair of walkie-talkies to communicate around the building. She lets me know when she's leaving the office, and I go in to cover until she gets back. Usually she calls me when she is taking a prospective new resident to see the sample apartment. I know how to handle payments, show prospects around, do leases, etc. Many times both of us were doing rentals at the same time.
It was last June, I think, when Sally paged me to cover the office. When I got there a woman in her early twenties was just turning away from the office door. "Can I help you with something?" I asked her.
"I'm looking for the manager," she answered. "I need an apartment."
"My wife and I are the managers," I said. I took her into the office and had her fill out an information card. Her name was Carrie.
She was single, in her mid-twenties, and earned a lot more than Sally and I do. Her attire didn't hide much. Her halter top put a lot of her tits on display, and she had a lot to display. Her skirt covered her ass and not much else. She was every bit as beautiful as Sally. Change hair color and facial features a little bit and they could be twins. "What size apartment are you looking for?" I asked when the card was completed. I had trouble making eye contact with her.
"A one-bedroom will do," she said. "Would it be possible to see one?"
