Thanks to GToast for editing this story.
*
"Yeah, fuck you bitch! You got exactly what you deserved," Michael said out loud as he sat at his computer.
With a smug smile on his face he clicked back to the new story list and began searching for another.
"I've got time for one more 'burn the bitch' story before Frannie gets home."
Every evening Michael sat at his computer and read stories from his favorite erotic fiction website. He was especially into reading stories about wives that cheated and the revenge their husbands took. He couldn't get enough of them. Sometimes he would pump his fist in the air and say "all right" out loud at the story's conclusion. Once in a while he came across a story that didn't end the way he wanted and he got upset and angry. When that happened he left a long dissertation about how a cuckolded husband should treat a cheating wife on the feedback area. And he was not above calling the author a wimp or an asshole whenever he disagreed.
Michael, to put it lightly, was a Loving Wives Maniac.
Now there's nothing wrong with being a fan of erotic fiction. It's even OK if you prefer one genre over another. And there certainly isn't anything wrong with having an opinion about what you read. It's just that Michael went overboard in just about everything he ever did in life and being consumed by the Loving Wives erotic fiction that he's been reading for the past few months was just another example of his compulsive nature: A nature that will one day get him into a lot of trouble.
What Michael didn't know was that day was rapidly approaching.
Michael's eyes were glued to the screen as another husband came home early from work to find his wife fucking the next door neighbor. His attention was so focused on the story that he didn't hear his own wife come in the front door downstairs.
"Hello? Michael? Yoo-hoo, where are you?" Fran called at the bottom of the steps.
"SHIT!" he said under his breath. He looked at the clock and saw that it was 10:45 PM. "Damn, lost track of time again." He closed down the website and walked to the top of the stairs. "Hi honey. You're home a bit later than you said. Have a good time with the girls?"
Fran walked up the stairs and said, "Yeah, a great time. You wouldn't believe what my idiot little sister did tonight. Right now I'm tired, I smell like smoke and I'm a bit tipsy so I'm just going to take a shower and go to bed. I'll tell you everything in the morning."
Fran blew a kiss at Michael as she walked past him into the bathroom and closed the door. Michael just stood in the hallway looking stupid.
"Damn, no pussy again tonight," Michael said under his breath as he walked back into the den and turned off the computer. "That's the second time this week. Shit, last week she had that special project at work that kept her there until midnight. And the week before her friend Marcie was sick. In the last month my right hand is the only action I've seen. What the fuck's going on here?"
Michael turned and walked downstairs, the sound of his wife humming in the shower faded into the distance. "I need a beer."
Brew in hand, his butt firmly planted in his leather recliner and the living room TV on, with the sound turned down (of course), Michael started to do something that he was ill equipped to do. He started to think.
"All right Michael, what the fuck's going on?" Michael always talked to himself when he was trying to solve a difficult problem. It would have looked incredibly weird if there were anybody else in the room but he was alone and could do whatever weird stuff he wanted. "In the last two months Frannie has been coming home late two or three nights a week. She's always too tired or too drunk to give me a blow job. The only sex we've had was that night two weeks ago after the movie with her sister and that dick-weed husband of hers. Even then she really wasn't into it. I had to do all the work. I called her at work last Monday and her secretary said she was in a meeting. When she called back she was on her cell phone and she was out of breath and I could swear I heard a man's voice in the background. That's the third time I couldn't get her at work. And her new gym membership sure is paying off, but for whom? Sure she looks great but I don't see her ass and tits nearly as much as I want. Let's see... what else? Oh, yeah, I almost forgot the new clothes and underwear. Why wouldn't she tell me she bought all of that sexy underwear? Probably because she knows how I feel about putting it all on her credit card without asking. I just wish she wore it when we went out, seems like she only wears it when she goes out with the girls. I'm not sure I believe that bullshit excuse that she's just trying to make her friends envious. What's... going... on... here?"
Michael's voice trailed off. His head tipped the side. The beer slipped out of his hand and onto the carpet. It was only a minute before the gentle snoring started.
Like an explosion, Michael jumped up out of the chair wide awake. He was standing there with his eyes wide open and his mouth agape. "That bitch is cheating on me!" he growled to the empty room. "I'll fucking kill her!"
Michael turned and started up the steps but stopped when he thought better of it.