June Cleaver?
My story starts off in much the same way as many, I suppose. A friend called me at work one afternoon to ask if we could meet for coffee. There was something he needed to talk to me about. Paul Jameson and I had been friends from high school. Although we weren't best buddies, we always got along well, and had socialized a lot over the years. He always had a kind word, regardless of the situation. If he wanted to get together, I'd be there.
"Sure. When and where?" I told him.
We met the next morning at a little restaurant down the street from my office. After a bit of chit chat, he came out with it.
"The reason I wanted to talk to you is that I'm pretty sure Stacey is fooling around on you." That caught my attention. Stacey and I had been married for eight years and a bit, and as far as I knew, we were doing great.
"I was at a meeting at the Hilton two days ago. The meeting ran fairly late, so my boss decided to spring for dinner for he and I and our client. As I walked through the restaurant, I spotted Stacey and a guy in a booth,and they were acting very friendly. Inappropriately so. If you two have recently decided on going the open marriage route, you can tell me to bugger off and mind my own business, but..." He paused and waited for a response that wasn't forthcoming. "Anyway, I though about it and decided that, as a friend, I should tell you. I'd want you to do the same for me. I'm sorry, man..."
To say I was stunned would be an understatement. I thanked Paul, and walked back toward my office in a daze. I didn't accomplish much the rest of the day, but rather sat and thought about how and why she might do this to us, and more importantly, what I was going to do about it.
I tried to recall if there had been any signs that something was amiss. The frequency of lovemaking in our marriage had dropped somewhat over the years, but thinking about it, I couldn't say that there had been any recent changes in the way she acted towards me. Was this something that had begun very recently? Could it have been something completely harmless, something she might have an explanation for? I hoped to find out soon.
You sometimes hear of a couple who have fallen into a situation like this, and one spouse goes to great lengths to document the other's infidelity. Private investigators, electronic surveillance, and the like, but I knew right off the hop that I wouldn't need to do any of that. I was going to confront Stacey that evening. Stacey could never lie if asked directly. It just wasn't in her nature. Then I thought, she's had to have lied to me at some point for this to have happened. It may be that she hadn't lied, but had simply omitted to tell me things. That I wouldn't put past her.
The one thing I was really concerned about, if our marriage fell apart, was the issue of custody of our daughter, Reilly. She was my special sweetheart, my pride and joy. She was only three, but she was a smart and pretty girl already. What would happen to her?
I arrived home at six as usual. Stacey picked Reilly up at daycare at six, and was usually home shortly afterwards, unless she had a client to see in the evening. Being in real estate required that my wife work evenings quite often. I wondered if the 'date' that Paul had witnessed was originally set up as a work evening, or had I been duped in some other way. I couldn't remember which nights she'd worked, it happened so often.
I started supper, and a few minutes later Stacey and Reilly arrived. Stacey greeted me with her usual smile and a tender kiss, while Reilly wrapped her arms around my legs and begged me to pick her up and spin her around the room, as I did every evening. Stacey helped with supper and we ate quietly, except for Reilly's chatter. Once our little girl was put down for the night, I asked Stacey to join me at the kitchen table.
"I saw Paul this morning for coffee. He called me because of something he'd seen a few nights ago at the Hilton."
Stacey's expression changed to one of concern.
"He said that he saw you in a restaurant booth with a man, and that you and he were making out. What's going on?"
"I...I... He was just someone I know..."
"Come on, Stacey. You can do better than that. What's his name?"
"Serge. Serge Drabinski. He works for the company that manages our signs."
"Did you fuck him the other night?"
"Jesus, Matthew! What kind of question is that?"
"One that I want a truthful answer to."
"Oh, God! I knew that this would happen." she paused and looked at me as if searching my face for a sign as to how I'd react. "Yes, I fucked him."
"You bitch!" I snarled. "How long has this been going on?"
She closed her eyes, and tears ran down her cheeks. "With him, about a month..."
What do you mean, with him? God! Are you fucking someone besides him?"
She simply nodded and stared at the floor.
"Yes."
I was completely taken aback. I didn't know what to think. Here's my wife, who, until that morning, had been, in my mind at least, loving and faithful.
"Stacey, tell me, who else? How many men are involved?"
"I don't know." she whispered.
"What the...? You don't know? How could you not know?"
She took a deep breath, "Matthew, I have something to tell you." she paused, "and it's not good."
What came out of Stacey's mouth over the next half hour left me completely and utterly overwhelmed.
It had started in her teens. After a date with a guy who had persuaded her to give him a blow job, she began her life as a slut. That first mouthful of semen had triggered something in her that was still going on to today. At first she indiscriminately sucked every cock she could, and after once again being persuaded, she began fucking them as well. She was the round heeled girl of her neighborhood and her school. Once she started university, she smartened up and became more selective, but was never without at least two boyfriends, who never knew about each other. I had been one of those boyfriends.
When we hooked up again a couple of years later, and began to get serious, she made the decision to stop fucking other men. We were in love and she wanted to be faithful. Six months later, we were married, and things were going well. We were both working at jobs we enjoyed, and were making decent money for young university grads. About eighteen months after our wedding, Stacey had a call from one of her old boyfriends. The reason for the call was completely innocent. He was returning to live here, and wanted to buy a starter home for he and his new bride. He didn't even realize who he was talking to a first. It was when they were out looking at homes, together and alone, that it hit her. She had enjoyed his cock back then at school and needed to fuck him , and she did that on the new broadloom in the middle of an otherwise empty dining room.
That was the turning point. Afterwards, she found herself excited by the thrill of extramarital sex, and found men to feed her addiction easily. The only break came when she was at home for six months following Reilly's birth. Once back at work it started again.
"Well, I've heard enough." I muttered, and stood. I went downstairs and dragged a suitcase out of the storage room and brought it up through the kitchen.
"What are you doing, Matthew?" She gasped. "You can't leave me. I love you!"
"You've chosen a strange way to show it, Stacey. How the fuck can you say you love me when you've fucked half the men in town. How many of our friends have dumped their come in your cheating cunt? How many of my co-workers have cuckolded me? I'm outta here."
"But it was just sex with them, I never loved any of them. I only love you."
"Only sex? This may come as a surprise to you, but to me, physical intimacy between between and you and I is a huge part of the bond that holds us together. Apparently you don't feel that bond to me. I certainly thought that making love to you was an essential part of our life. I guess it just wasn't as important to you. Now get the fuck out of my way!"
The next day, I found a small furnished apartment, and while Stacey was at work, went back to the house and took the things I wanted.
In the days that followed, she called me at work, over and over again, but all she wanted to do was beg me, crying, to come home. I finally arranged to have our home number and her office and cell numbers blocked.
A week later, Glenda, Stacey's mom, called me, and asked me to come over for dinner on the following Friday evening.
"If Stacey's there, I won't be staying, Mom." Glenda assured me that it was not an occasion to try and convince me to get back together with Stacey. She just wanted to talk with me.
June Cleaver wanted to talk. I laughed, as I had a hundred times before when I thought of Glenda. She looked, with the exception of a current hairstyle, just like the Beaver's mom had, way back when. I wasn't old enough to remember the original program, but I'd seen enough re-runs to know that my tall, slim, and blonde mother-in-law was as much an elegant knock-out as the Beav's mom had been back in the late fifties. I wasn't the first one to make the connection, but I was the only one who regularly called her June. She pretended to be annoyed when I did, but I could tell she liked the attention I'd given her, ever since Stacey had taken me home to meet her.
When I arrived at Glenda's, she greeted me with a kiss as always. She got me a beer and we sat down, waiting for the chicken she was cooking to be done. I'd expected her boyfriend, Felix, to be there, but apparently he had a meeting to attend, and would be back later. Her husband, Gerald, Stacey's dad, had been out or the picture since Stacey was thirteen. They never talked much about him, and it didn't seem to be appropriate to pry.
We had a nice meal, as always. Stacey was a terrific cook, and she'd learned it all from her Mom. There was no discussion of the state of our marriage during dinner, but afterwards, we sat down on the couch.
