Infidelity And Retribution

This is a twist on the cheating spouse story. Malcolm is hurt and deceived by his wife's actions in taking a younger lover, so he embarks on a course of revenge – not against her – but against those closest to her lover. This may not morally endear him to many readers, but could any man say that he wouldn't achieve the satisfaction of doing the same?

As with all of my stories, there are detailed descriptions of intense sexual activity between consenting adults. If this is likely to offend you, do not read on.

Do not waste your time and energy in telling me that I am a misogynist … I most decidedly am not. I do really love women … this is just a story about a man who decided to cheat back. It didn't happen to me, but I heard about it … it may or may not be true, you be the judge.

Chapter One

My name is Malcolm Anderson … last week I celebrated my 40

th

birthday with my family … my attractive wife Jill and our two children, a daughter 15 and a son 17. I will not name them or the city we live in to protect the family's full identity.

Jill and I are what, these days, is called a power couple. I am a very successful banker, specialising in consumer loans. Jill has reached the heights of the TV industry, being producer and director of the country's most successful TV soapy. Our parents and our kids, as well as aunts, uncles and cousins, helped me celebrate my big four-0 on a Saturday afternoon. My wife even rescheduled the weekly script meeting for her TV series, just to make it a great family celebration.

Here I am, only one week after that great party, sitting in my large garage, out at the back of the house, sifting through bags of accumulated stuff that, to my mind, is destined for the Rubbish Dump. I had designated this Sunday morning to be clean up day, rounding up what I considered to be bags of rubbish from all over my house and I was now sorting through it.

I rummaged through a black plastic bag and found a few items that identified the contents as mainly pertaining to Jill's work.

'I better leave this lot for her to go through,'

I thought to myself. But something on a sheet of paper near the top of the bag caught my attention and I dug around a bit deeper.

'What the hell is this?'

I asked myself as I scanned through what appeared to be pages and pages of e-mails, stored in a blue folder.

I read a part of one of the e-mails out loud to myself, "Randy, I never expected a man's tongue could have such a reaction on me. Seriously, a man going down on me has never before triggered such a fire inside me. You could see how violently I came and you were the one solely responsible for that. How does that make you feel, Randy? I would think pretty good. You have developed an art in the way you use that magic tongue of yours. You've hooked me, no man has ever made me cum like that, you glorious hunk."

I searched to the top of the page, looking to see who had written this and to whom. I immediately recognised my wife's e-mail URL as the sending address, but I was at a loss to identify who stud69 @ etc. etc. might be. I checked the date … my wife had sent it six months ago. I shuffled through the thick pile of pages, stopped at another. The date on this one was only ten days ago.

It read,

'My beautiful Randy, it breaks me up that I won't be able to see you this weekend. It's Mal's 40

th

birthday and all the family is coming over. It will be hard going without my weekly dose of your wonderful thick cock. I don't know how I will get through next week. Randy my love, the only consolation for me is that by being forced to exist without having you fuck me stupid this Saturday, my need for your hard driving cock will be twice as great by next week. So you better be up to it, Saturday's matinee will be so much more intense.'

"What is this?" I asked aloud, "Saturday matinee … your wonderful thick cock … fuck me stupid … Jill doesn't talk that way, she couldn't have written this. And Saturday's, she has the script meeting every Saturday to prepare for taping the next week's scenes. She surely wouldn't have time to be doing something like this with whoever this Randy character is."

I leafed through the pages, there must be over a hundred and the messages were similar on each e-mail page. It was bizarre to me that my wife – who I thought to be my perfectly devoted and loyal wife – would write such lurid messages of enjoying sex to another man.

'What's more,'

I pondered,

'why would she run such a risk by printing them out and leaving them in a bag in our home?'

I put the blue folder to one side and rummaged deeper into the garbage bag. There I found a red folder and opened it up, discovering another thick sheaf of A4 pages. At the top of the top page, I saw that the sender this time was that same stud69 email address and these were all sent to my wife's work e-mail. These must be the other half of this clandestine relationship.

I read part of the first message,

'Pumpkin, your cunt is like a liquid velvet-lined sleeve that sucks my cock into it and won't release me until I have pumped my life-giving nectar into your vital parts, giving you the energy to exist through another week. Every day without experiencing your carnivorous cunt is like being consigned to a prison away from all life's necessities. I crave for our Saturday's together.'

"What a load of crap," I muttered to myself out loud, then looked around me to check that neither my wife nor kids were close enough to hear my disgust at reading the thoughts of this man whom I assumed must be my wife's lover. But who was this Randy with a pompous stud69 title? Obviously a pseudonym and I assumed that Pumpkin must be his name for my wife, since I had noticed on all of her e-mails to the lover, she had signed them just P.

'What am I going to do about this … and how long has this been going on?'

I mulled over these important considerations.

'Why would she be so blatant as to leave these around where I could find them? Although, she didn't really, I did have to climb up into the top of the closet to get this bag down. She must have thought they were well hidden. But still, why leave such damaging evidence of an affair lying around?'

My next task was to try to find out when this had started. I sifted through both folders, finding the earliest dates that seemed to be common in both. It looked to be 18 months ago. In fact, this earliest e-mail from my wife to Randy read:

'To tell you that I was surprised would be an understatement when you took me around the back of the set last night. What a strong young man you are, to be able to hold my body up like that and still give me two of the most powerful orgasms I have ever felt. I am going to call you Randy in case anyone should find this message. Only I will know your true identity. I know I shouldn't put anything like this in writing, but I had to tell you how wonderful and alive you made me feel. That was so exciting, I have never had sex like that, suspended in a man's arms, clinging on to him while his magnificent thick cock plundered me. You know I am going to want it again – and again – and maybe even again. When do you think we can get together next? Randy my love, please don't boast to anybody else on the show that you fucked the director. I cannot afford to have any friction on the set. You truly are my leading man.'

'You are my leading man,'

I questioned,

'does that mean her lover is the leading man in the series? That would make him Jeremy Jackson, but surely not … he's only late twenties, maybe thirty at a pinch. What would Jill and a young stud like that have in common? Stud, there's me calling him a stud, because his looks do fit the mental picture one would have of a stud. Maybe that's why his e-mail is stud69.'

I continued scanning through the pages, speed reading the paragraphs, trying to confirm the identity of the man who had captured my wife's affections.

'The prick, I'll teach him a lesson if I can establish who it is. Surely they have been careless in one of these messages.'

At last, I found a reference to the lover's 29

th

birthday and how Jill was going to give him his present when they met on the following Saturday.

'Your clue is it's something that you've wanted to do with my body since we met. I have decided that you have earned the honour of taking my sole remaining virginity. At last, my darling Randy, my arse will be all yours. No man, not even Mal, has been inside my virgin arse. I am a little bit scared, but I know you will be gentle. I have saved this something special just for you. Treat it with care.'

'Oh shit no, the number of times that I suggested to her that we try something like that, and she goes and gives it away to this young prick. Well, at least I now know that his 29

th

birthday was on August 5, so I only need to check Jeremy Jackson's bio on the soap's website to check his age and birth date.'

I carefully put everything back where I had found them in the bag and walked back into the house to switch on the computer. I passed through the kitchen where my wife was cooking. "What are you up to, Mal?" she asked cheerily, even giving me a peck on the cheek as I went by her.

'How could she do that, how can she still be so warm and friendly to me when this time yesterday she was in the arms of her young lover, muttering things to him, like I have just read, as if he is God's gift to married women.'

I wanted to blurt out something hard and aggressive and vengeful, but I held it all back for now. "I'm just getting some rubbish ready for the tip, honey."

"Oh great, I must have some junk under the stairs, don't leave until I've dug it out, will you, darling?"

I went directly to the computer and clicked on the website address of my wife's TV production. I went to the bios of the star's section and there was the grinning face of the very handsome young actor, Jeremy Jackson.

'Surely Mrs. Jackson didn't call her son Jeremy, that must be a stage name,'

I thought as I searched for his birth date. There it was, August 5, born 1980.

'Twenty nine years old, just a kid! The bastard, rotten young stud shit! And it says he was born Jeremy Alan Jackson. What's' more, the shit is married, been married two years to Nicole Richards, says here they met in high school.'

I closed the computer down and headed back outside. To avoid again passing by Jill in the kitchen, this time I cut through the laundry. The basket of dirty clothes waiting for my wife to put them into the washing machine caught my eye.

'I wonder if she would be careless enough to leave the evidence lying around. Maybe, if this affair has been going for 18 months, she has become careless.'

I looked around to ensure that neither Jill nor the kids were nearby and then I began sifting through the clothes hamper. I was nearly to the bottom of the container before I pulled out a pair of my wife's panties … they were her only panties in the hamper so I assumed they must have been from yesterday. I checked the inside of the crotch and, sure enough, they were caked with what looked to be an ample quantity of dried cum. Yesterday would have been her

Super Saturday

with Randy, making up for having missed the one before because of my 40

th

birthday party.

All the signs were there. I went back into the garage and continued poring over the contents of the e-mails. I had become so absorbed in reading the lovey-dovey mush transmitted between the two that I almost didn't hear Jill approaching. I just managed to get the folders back into the bags as my wife entered the garage and dumped some items that she had brought out from under the stairs.

"We're never going to use any of these again, darling. Will you take them when you go to the tip?"

"Yeah sure!" I answered, finding it hard to be civil toward my wife after all that I had just read.

"What's the matter, darling, you seem distracted," she asked, coming right up close to me, so close that I could smell her perfume. She was standing beside the chair I sat in, bending over me, an affectionate hand on my back.

"No, I'm fine, honey," I forced himself to smile back at her. She moved around to stand directly in front of me, between my legs, hugging my face to her clothed belly. "I know what your problem is, you're not getting enough good loving. Is that it, darling? Would you like to slip into the bedroom and we'll have a matinee?"

'Matinee, damn her … I had never heard her refer to daytime sex as a matinee before. But there it was, the word she used regularly throughout her e-mails to Randy.'

I cringed at hearing her address me similarly to the way she writes to him – her lover,

'How can she do that, talk to me like she talks to him … without any guilt?'

I wanted to pull away from her affectionate hold.

"So what do you say, Mal? You haven't answered me, don't tell me you're losing your horny disposition. You've always been such a randy bugger. Are you going to knock me back for a quickie?"

'Cheating shit, now she was even using that word randy … the word by which she identified her young lover.'

I pulled myself together, "Sorry honey, maybe when we go to bed tonight. I'd feel a bit awkward doing it with the kids around."

"Never seemed to bother you before, still it's your call. I could have done with a bit of your stiffie."

'Stiffie … where did she get that word, it had never been in her vocabulary before her affair. And how could she be wanting it today when, according to her e-mails, her Saturday lover fills all her needs, even her newfound anal preference, according to that birthday e-mail.'

Jill looked around the mound of rubbish bags in front of her husband, "Are you sure these are all rubbish, darling. Should I go through them just to make sure?"

"No, no!" I was quickly insistent, "I'm only discarding stuff of mine."

"Well, if you say so. It's just that I've got some personal stuff stored away in bags like that. I'd hate to think that you might discard some stuff that is precious to me."

She turned to go and I watched the movement of her still great arse in the summer dress, although the only picture I could conjure up in my mind, was of her bare arse filled with Randy's thick cock. Damn! I realised that Jill might now be heading to the closet to check whether her bag of stuff was still there. I had to get her black garbage bag of incriminating e-mails back into the closet. I called after her as she headed back into the house, "Tell you what, Jill, we will have that quickie. I want you right now."

"Oh really, what made you change your mind?"

"I caught sight of you with the sunlight coming from behind that dress you're wearing, the outline of your legs and your panties and that untouched arse of yours turned me on. How about I meet you in the bedroom in a couple of minutes. We'll go in separately so it doesn't look suspicious to the kids."

"Now you're talking, Mal, see you in there." I watched her go, knowing that I needed to get her into the bedroom to prevent her checking the hall closet. She appeared not to register any reaction to my use of the words

'untouched arse'

, yet she would know herself that it was no longer untouched by a male organ. She just never expected me to know that.

I followed about thirty seconds behind my wife and stopped off long enough to return her black plastic garbage bag, containing her incriminating e-mails, to the closet.

Then I entered our bedroom and closed the door behind me. I was alone with my wife for the first time since discovering that she had been cheating on me nearly every Saturday for the past 18 months. Could I do this … could I really get into bed and make love with my sneaky, conniving, cheating wife?

I had followed so soon behind her that she was still standing beside the bed taking off her watch. Her dress and bra had already been discarded and she looked up, wearing only her panties. "Do you want to be the one to take these off?" she asked teasingly, her thumbs tucked into her waistband.

"No, looks like you've got it," I told her, removing my shirt as I went to my side of the bed, unbuckling my belt. She shed the panties down over her hips and clambered into bed totally naked.

"Ooh, I like this, darling … we never do anything impromptu like this. We need this sort of spontaneity to keep our marriage fresh."

I found myself dwelling on every word she said, comparing the words she used with what she really must mean, given that she was now committed to a lover. I kicked my trousers away, dropped my boxers and was surprised to see that I already had half an erection.

"Umm, what have you been reading out there in the garage?" she teased.

"What do you mean?" my guilt-laden over-reaction nearly bringing me undone.

Jill looked at me with suspicion, "Only that you're already half big. I wondered if you'd found something raunchy to read that would make you randy."

'There she was again, using her lover's nickname … damn her!'

Looking down at my semi-erect cock, her observation made me curious. Indeed, why would I be in an aroused state after reading of her infidelity with Randy. There should be nothing to get turned on about in learning of your wife being with another younger man.

She slid her body into my arms when I got into our bed. I didn't feel like making love to my wife, given the revelations that I had just uncovered in the garage. But I was here to keep her from checking that her secret stash was still in the hall closet.

Her face and her parted lips told me that my wife wanted to be kissed, so I reluctantly obliged. While I felt that I was being hypocritical in kissing my wife, the melding of our tongues did wonders for my hard-on that had now sprung up to full erection. Wanting this done quickly, I rolled my body on top of Jill's and pushed my legs between hers.

"Boy, what's the rush?" she asked, anticipating a longer foreplay that was normal for us.

Undaunted, I used my fingers to place my hard round knob at her vaginal opening and pushed.

"Can you give me time, darling? I need a minute, we're doing this from a standing start."

Shutting out her voice and ignoring her request, I thrust my hard-on into my wife without care or concern. She grunted at the premature entry and tried to adjust her legs around mine to open up her passage.

I had gotten it all the way into her vagina with only limited moisture. Still not caring to wait for her body to react, I pulled back and thrust hard again, sinking it once more to the hilt.

"Oh Jesus, Mal, what's got into you? Please, not like this … you're always so gentle and caring."

"Not this time," I told her as I quickly got into a hard driving rhythm with my cock. Jill was forced to make the most of a bad situation, hanging on for the ride. She didn't have to put up with it for long. My single selfish pursuit this time was getting off inside my wife … and the quicker the better.

Jill was even more stunned when she felt my cum blasting at her uterus … too soon it was over. I guessed that she wanted to say a lot to me, starting with how could I be so uncaring, so thoughtless in ignoring her needs. But she held back, watching my face. She had never seen me like this in all the years we had been married. She wouldn't like what she saw here in our bed this Sunday. I imagined that she would be thinking,

'Just as well for Randy,

it's just a shame that I've got to wait all the way until Saturday for him to do me like I deserve to be done.'