Interdiction

This is a different take on the "Wife tells husband she is going out on a date" story. There is really not any sex in this story, so if you're looking for that you won't find any. This is also NOT a BTB story.

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Chapter 1

My wife, Sherry, thought that I didn't know about her plans. She thought I was stupid, or at least ignorant of her burgeoning love affair with her co-worker, Todd. She believed that I would allow her to cuckold me and that I would put up with her fucking him so that I could remain her husband.

She had another thing coming.

Little did she know, that I had been suspecting her for some time. I had noticed the changes, the tell-tale signs of infidelity, things like frequently working late, sexy upgrades to her wardrobe, more aggressive sex, and losing all interest in all of the things about which we used to care. I tried to talk to her about it on several occasions, but every time I did, my concerns fell on deaf ears.

Sherry, of course, denied that anything was amiss. She said it was just my insecurity and my possessiveness working overtime. So, I had little choice, but to hire an investigator. I refused to remain blind to the truth. I would never tolerate my wife cheating on me. I had made that point abundantly clear from the start of our relationship and reiterated it many times over the ten years of our marriage.

So, it was with mixed emotions that I sat in the office of Jake Sloane, Private Investigator, and received his report. I felt relief when he made it clear that Sherry had not been unfaithful. However, that relief was short-lived as he added the word "yet." As he explained it, my wife was having a romantic affair. It just had not progressed to something sexual, but that was only a matter of time.

It seems that Sherry and Todd were what might be called "work spouses." I hated that term. Sherry had only one spouse: me. Some may find the expression cute and harmless, but to me, it implied that she had an intimate relationship with someone else. Well, as it turned out, she had precisely that.

According to the PI Report, Sherry and Todd had lunch together every day, just the two of them. They would hold hands and sit close together. He provided numerous photographs of the two of them hugging, even sharing the occasional kiss. I was enraged by what I saw and wanted to choke the smug prick, Todd.

In addition to lunches, the lovebirds would work late together frequently, even though there was no valid reason to do so. It was as if they wanted to avoid going home to their respective spouses and milk as much "us time" out of each day as possible.

The PI told me he had been able to monitor Sherry's emails and texts. I knew it was highly illegal, and I would never be able to use it in a divorce. But, in our state divorcing for adultery was possible, but difficult. No-fault divorces were much easier, and for that, I didn't need to use the proof anyway. I just wanted it for my purposes. Sloane refused to give me copies of the actual messages. He wouldn't even let me see them. Instead, he offered me a summary of what they contained.

He assured me that at no time had my wife talked disparagingly of me. On a few occasions Todd had tried to belittle me, but Sherry wouldn't let him. Well, I suppose it could have been worse. The emails and texts confirmed that they were romantically involved, though neither had professed their love. Their conversations were very sexual, bordering on sexting. Todd had sent my wife pictures of his cock, which she was thrilled about, reciprocating with shots of her bare tits. As far as Sloane could tell, she had not yet sent any pussy pics.

As I was sitting there in his office, thinking about my next steps, Sloane hit me with the worst news yet. Todd's wife was going out of town to visit her mother for a three-day weekend. The paramours decided to use the opportunity to meet and consummate their relationship. The only thing in their way was me. They weren't sure how they could spend the night together if I were still around. Since I wasn't going out of town, it would be nearly impossible to get away with it.

They had considered a variety of plans. One was to tell me that Sherry was going on a girls only trip for the weekend. She was afraid I would talk to one of her friends and find out the truth. She didn't want to enlist anyone to create a viable cover story, so that idea was out. Next, they considered getting me to go out of town. I bitterly laughed when I remembered Sherry suggesting that I organize a golf trip with my buddies. I wasn't interested, which shot that option down, too.

Finally, they came up with a novel, but direct approach: honesty. Todd believed that I was a cuckold in the making and that I would do anything to keep Sherry as my loving, happy wife, including let her have a "fling" with another man. Somehow, he got Sherry to believe that by fucking him, she would be helping to improve our sex life and our relationship. He convinced her that all she had to do was tell me what she had planned to do with Todd and I would give in and let her do it.

Clearly, the asshole didn't know me, but what surprised me most was that Sherry bought into his bullshit. She had to know there was no way I would put up with it. If she didn't realize it, then she was mentally unstable.

Sloane told me that was all the evidence they had, so I took what he gave me and went home. I asked him to continue to monitor Sherry's messages and let me know if anything developed. On Friday, Sloane called and informed me that Sherry was going to confront me the following Monday after work. She planned to tell me that she was going to go out on a date with Todd that Friday night. This "date" would start dinner and dancing, but end with the pair spending the night in a hotel room, fucking their brains out. Considerately, she would return home to me on Saturday, or maybe Sunday, depending on how much sex they had.

Sherry and Todd had rehearsed her entire speech, and they convinced themselves that I would accept her demands. They knew I would be upset, even angry, at first. But, Sherry planned to assure me it was just a one-time thing, even though they both knew it wasn't. She would try to tell me that afterward, she would have sex with me as a reward for my being so understanding. Knowing that Sherry and I have not had sex in months, she assumed I would be so happy to have Todd's sloppy seconds, that I would accede to her desires.

How nice of them to think of my needs.

I only had two days to prepare for the confrontation. Sherry and Todd her jokingly referring to it as the "intervention." I would be damned if it would go the way she envisioned. I decided that I would turn their intervention into my interdiction.

Chapter 2

I spent the weekend going through scenario after scenario, trying to figure out what I was going to do and how I could fix my marriage. First I had to decide if I wanted to fix it. I wasn't sure if I did. As I thought about how I felt about Sherry, my plan of actions developed organically. I became resolved to deal with it directly and end things for good.

When we were first married, Sherry and I seemed blissfully happy. We spent all our time together, sharing everything that we went through in life. She was my best friend and my best lover. Somehow, that all seemed to fade.

Maybe, that's the way of all things. Nothing lasts forever. Perhaps my view of marriage was rather old-fashioned and idealized. I had thought we would be a team, going through life together, fighting side-by-side against the trials and tribulations that came our way. Sherry and I had both been married before, unsuccessfully. If this marriage failed, too, maybe the problem wasn't us. Maybe it was the institution of marriage itself.

How could people expect to maintain feelings, desires, interests, and passion when Fate insists on being fickle and finding ways to change everything and everyone? In a world of 30-second sound bites, rapidly evolving culture, social media, and instant gratification, maybe marriage, like the dinosaurs and compact discs, had become obsolete.

I thought, if Sherry wants to be with Todd, maybe I should just let her.

Then I snapped out of it and came to my senses. No fucking way was I going to let her cuckold me. I might not want her anymore, but I would be damned if I would let Todd get over on me by claiming my wife.

Fuck that.

I was ready to fight when my wife called me just after lunch on Monday.

"Hey Sherry," I began the call, "everything okay? You never call me at work, anymore. I hope nothing's wrong."

"Hi honey," she responded. Honey? Really? Did she use that epithet with Todd, too? "Nothings wrong. I just wanted to make sure you're going to be home on time today. I have something really important to talk with you about, so I need you to be there."

"Oh, ok," I replied, then added, "Yeah, that's good because I have some big news to tell you, too. I should be home by 5:15 or so. Will that work?"

She didn't answer right away. When she did, it was to dig for information. "Big news? Like what?" she asked.

"I'll tell you tonight," I said, then decided to end the call. "I hate to run, but I'm in the middle of my monthly report. I need to get it done so that I can leave on time. See you at home."

I hung up and walked down the hall to my boss' office to let him know that I was taking the rest of the day off. He was okay with it, which was good. I had a few things I needed to prepare for the interdiction.

Chapter 3

I was sitting at the kitchen table when at 5:27, I heard the garage door opening. I was nervous, but also very angry. I was trying hard to maintain a calm exterior, while my interior surged and raged with raw emotions. I had an open bottle of Sauvignon Blanc on ice with two glasses ready to go. Two minutes later the door opened, and Sherry walked in, alone, and dropped her keys and purse on the countertop.

I was relieved that she hadn't brought Todd with her. That would have complicated things. I smiled.

"Hi honey," I said, repeating the term of endearment she had used earlier in the day. "Welcome home. Do you need some time before we talk or do you want to jump right in?"

She was taken aback by my immediate desire to talk. I guess she figured we would get to it eventually, and wasn't ready to get into it so quickly. I wasn't going to let her get the upper hand. I wanted to keep her on her toes and unprepared. She had everything she planned to do and say worked out in detail, so I had to be as disruptive as possible.

"Uhh, I wasn't expecting you to be sitting here waiting, but yeah, I guess the sooner we get started, the sooner we can go on with our evening," Sherry said as she walked over and sat down across from me.

"I'd like to go first with my news if that's ok with you. Do you mind?" I asked rather forcefully.

"Uhh, no," she said, hesitantly, "that's fine."

"Good, would you care for a glass of wine?" I asked. I didn't wait for her to answer. I poured us both a glass and placed one in front of her.

"Yeah, that would be great," she said letting out a sigh as she raised the glass and drank half. I topped off her glass as soon as she put it down.

"So, this is something that I've given a lot of thought," I began. "I'm not going to beat around the bush. There's no sense in dragging it out." I paused, deliberately, trying to build the tension. It worked. Sherry sat forward in her chair and stared at me intently.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I want a divorce," I stated directly, then waited for it to sink in.

It took about three seconds. Sherry's face gave away her thoughts and emotions. First, she was confused, like she didn't understand the words I spoke. Then, the realization of what I said sunk in and she was shocked. Fear and concern quickly replaced surprise. She was worried that I might know about her affair with Todd.

"Why?" she asked, afraid of the answer.

"I don't love you anymore," I said. It looked as if I had stabbed Sherry in the chest.

"You what?" she asked, struggling with my declaration.

"I fell out of love with you, Sherry. I don't remember exactly when I stopped loving you," I lied. I knew precisely when.

"It's been a long time coming. I tried to ignore it for as long as I could. But lately, it's just been harder and harder not to face the truth."

"What are you talking about?" she asked. She looked like she was going to cry. I was surprised by her reaction.

"Do you remember when we first got married?" I asked. "Remember how we spent all our free time together. If we went anywhere, the grocery store, a movie, to the mall, anything, we did it together. It was like we couldn't stand to be apart."

She nodded. "I remember," Sherry said.

"We both had jobs, but we would make a special point to have lunch at least twice a week. And, we couldn't wait for work to get over with so that we could rush home to be together. I missed you so much every day and looked forward to coming home to you, kissing you and more often than not, making love to you.

"We shared our hobbies. You got me to attend those silly pottery classes with you. Did you know how much I loved doing that with you?

"I thought you hated doing pottery," Sherry said, staring at me.

"It wasn't about the pottery; it was about sharing an experience with you," I told her. "I loved every minute of that. I enjoyed watching you do it and helping you with it. I was in awe of your enthusiasm. It was the same with painting those damned Christmas village buildings."

We had bought about a dozen of these little unpainted buildings that we painted together to make a display for Christmas. It was tedious, but we had a blast doing it.

"Yours were always better than mine," Sherry said.

"Remember how many nights we spent together here at the table dabbing paint on roof tiles?"

Sherry nodded again.

"I loved you so much then. We also spent hour upon hour coloring those big posters you picked up on the trip to Myrtle Beach. That was long before adult coloring books were all the rage. We still have hundreds of those colored pens. But, like our love, they've all dried up."

Sherry cringed visibly. "My love hasn't dried up," she fired back defensively.

I ignored her and pressed on, "All our friends used to talk about how envious they were of us. We did everything together. We would take long walks, daily, holding hands. If I needed to run to the hardware store to get a refill on trimmer string for the weed whacker, you would come with me. If you wanted to go shopping for clothes, I'd tag along and wait for you outside the changing room."

"Yeah, but you hated that!" she challenged me. "You would be on your phone constantly. You weren't looking at the clothes with me."

"No, I wasn't," I agreed. "I didn't care about what you picked. I thought you were beautiful in everything. I was there to be with you. I could have stayed home and watched sports.

"We would talk about how the other women in the neighborhood all got together to play bunko or have girls nights out, but you never wanted to go. Do you remember what you told me about why you didn't participate?"

Sherry wiped a tear from her cheek. "Yes, I remember."

"You said that you didn't want to go hang out with a bunch of hens when you could hang out with me instead. Many nights we would cuddle under a blanket and watch You've Got Mail."

"I love that movie," Sherry said fighting back the tears.

"We must have watched it at least a hundred times," I said as I refilled her wine glass, again.

"I still want to watch it with you!" Sherry cried out. "I don't want to get a divorce!"

"I thought we would grow old together, taking cooking lessons, doing ballroom dancing, or just laying in bed reading books, anything, as long as we were with each other. But, we've drifted apart, Sherry."

"I don't know when it started, exactly," I said, looking deeply into my wife's eyes. "We went from lunches two or three days a week to a weekly lunch date."

That had been Sherry's doing. She had told me one day that she didn't have time to take lunch outside the office so often. That had been a lie. She still was eating outside; only, she was choosing to do it with someone else.

"Then before we knew it, we stopped having lunch together completely. I started joining my coworkers for lunch. In time, I found myself enjoying their company, probably too much."

I was exaggerating, but I was going out of my way to avoid casting blame Sherry's way. I didn't want to put her on the defensive and start fighting back. This conversation could very quickly deteriorate or turn into a pissing match. That was not my goal, not yet, anyway.

"Then, getting home early to spend time with each other stopped being as important. We found ourselves working later and later. When we did finally come home, we were often distant or distracted.

"Why didn't you ever say anything about it?" Sherry asked. "If I had known it was important to you, I would have tried to have lunch with you more often or not work late so much."

"You're right," I said, agreeing with her, even though I did bring it up many, many times. "I wish I had been able to figure out why being with me wasn't important to you. Maybe if I had, I could have changed or done something so that you would want to spend more time with me. I think I failed, badly, in that regard."

I was making it seem like I was taking responsibility for our drifting apart. This was far from the truth. I knew that if I hit Sherry with Todd first, we would not get through the discussion without it becoming ugly. I'd never get her to see my side of things. It would be me being a controlling, jealous asshole. Before I revealed what I knew, I wanted her to remember what we had and to think about her role in destroying it.

"Gradually, we stopped doing almost everything together. You started going to your girls night out parties. I started going to poker nights. You would go to the spa on the weekends. I would go golfing. Sherry, we could go days without even having more than a superficial conversation about the weather or the latest news.

"Our sex life started to suffer too. Often we were too tired or not in the mood. When we first got married, we couldn't keep our hands off each other. We would have sex four or five days a week, often multiple times a day. I would fondle you while you were cooking, and we would skip dinner and fuck all night. We'd go out to the hot tub all the time, always getting into some naughty fun. We haven't even turned the hot tub on in over a year."

"I didn't think you wanted to have sex anymore," Sherry countered. I have no idea where she got that idea. I think she was rationalizing her behavior by trying to make it my fault.

"Oh, God, no," I said with a chuckle, "I never stopped wanting to have sex. I'm every bit as horny now as I was ten years ago. I just stopped wanting to have sex with you." I knew that would cut deeply. She had thought that she had rejected me sexually, and here I was telling her that our lack of sex was because I didn't want to fuck her. I could almost laugh if I weren't hurting so badly.

"What??" Sherry asked, her voice cracking. I don't think she expected me to say that. "You didn't want to have sex with me?"

"I lost all interest in fucking you," I said point blank. "You were a cold fish. You would just lay there. You never wanted to do anything exciting or remotely naughty. It felt like you wanted it to be over quickly, so you could go back to something more interesting, like knitting. The whole time, I still wanted the weekend-long sex marathons like we used to have. Hell, you didn't even want me to give you orgasms. Sex with you was boring, Sherry. You didn't even realize it, but the last few times I fucked you, I faked cumming just to get it over with."