This is the first story I've published on the Literotica site, and I'm both looking forward to and anxious about feedback. There's no sex in this part. Speaking of parts, I haven't finished, but wanted to go ahead and publish; I anticipate 3 or 4 installments. This one came pretty quickly; I wrote most of it in one sitting, then edited it for a couple of days. If the rest comes as easily, I should be able to post at a rate of about one per week. Speaking of editing, I looked at the list of editors, and was kind of overwhelmed, so opted to publish this without the help of an editor. If anyone has experience with an editor whose skills seem to match up with the style and faults in my writing, I'd be happy for a recommendation.
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I had dinner waiting for Ellen to get home from work. I knew she had plans for the evening, and wanted to talk to her before she left. Our girls, Alyssa (14) and Sophie (10) had set the kitchen table, and were finishing their homework in the dining room, where we rarely ate, and they usually worked. In theory, Ellen and I split cooking and cleanup duties, but it seemed to me that lately I'd been doing more than my share of both. I didn't really mind, since I like cooking, and I think I'm better at it than Ellen. I don't love washing dishes, but again, I think the kitchen is cleaner after I'm finished with it than it is when it's her turn.
I'm Dan: 46 years old, 6 feet, 2 inches tall in my dress shoes, 220 pounds; I have a dad bod. I still have all my hair, which is darkening from blond as I age; green eyes, no facial hair, tattoos, noticeable scars, etc. Since you already have a pretty good idea of where this story is going, I figured you'd want to know, so you can decide whether I deserved what she was doing to me; and I admit, I could have spent an extra hour at the gym a few days every week, like Ellen, but I preferred to see my kids at breakfast, and to be home when they got out of school (my job allows me to arrange my schedule to do that) and help with homework, and, as often as not, make dinner. With Alyssa, who increasingly sought the privacy of her room, rather than hanging around with Sophie and me, I had already started to lose the parent-child intimacy that I so loved; and I knew that Sophie, who follows her sister in all things, wouldn't be far behind. I had figured I could always get back in shape when it was just Ellen and me; but I miscalculated.
Ellen, a few years younger than I am, at 43, is an attractive woman. She's not a raving beauty, but when she goes all out with clothes, hair, and makeup, men definitely notice her. You want her details? 5 feet, 5 inches tall, 140 pounds, chestnut hair, brown eyes. C-cup breasts, which are still pretty perky, and really nice legs, courtesy of good genes and regular exercise.
You probably want to know how often we had sex, too. Like it does for most couples who both work, frequency had slowed down after we had the girls; if I'm honest, I'd have to say once a week, on average, usually Saturday nights. I will say that I always tried to be a generous lover, and that I loved eating her pussy, and could always get her to come that way, and we didn't always do the same things, in the same order. But yes, it had become somewhat routine. Again, if you think that means that I deserved for her to cheat on me, then we'll just have to agree to disagree.
What else? Work, right. I'm a college professor, anthropology. I have tenure at the R1 (that's top-tier research institution, in case you care) university that supports our little college town. I have a couple of books to my name, a long list of articles and conference publications, and, from what I can tell, I'm pretty well regarded in my field, which focuses on the role of language in culture. Ellen has a catering business that she runs, along with her partner, and close friend, Meg. For the first few years it wasn't much more than a hobby; recently, though, she's been making pretty good money.
(Yes, I know I said I think I'm the better cook. Meg might agree; cooking is what she brings to the partnership. Ellen handles the business side of the business, and she's pretty good at it.)
So, as I was saying, I was waiting to talk to Ellen. She arrived in a rush, dropped her coat and bag, kissed the girls, and me, and hurried us all to the table.
"You know I have that thing with Meg and her sister tonight, hon," she said to me. It wasn't really a question.
"Yes," I said.
"I'm sorry to eat and run like this, but I have to shower and change before I go." She ate a few bites, then put down her fork. "And I know I owe you for cleanup. Do you mind?"
"No," I said. "But I need to have a quick word with you before you go."
"OK," she said, "we can talk when I get out of the shower." She was already getting up from the table, making sure to grab her bag on her way out.
"That's fine," I said. The girls and I finished eating, as we did playing a game we have where we analyze the lyrics of a popular song, and play around with the cultural implications; given the content of most contemporary music, that means talking about sex, but I've never seen any reason to be squeamish when it comes to talking about sex with the girls. I figure they're already talking about it with their friends, anyway. Sophie offered a recent hip hop song that the boys in her class had been sniggering about. Alyssa, I noted, had some pretty good insights; she'd make a good anthropologist.
The girls helped me clear and load the dishwasher; I'm a clean-as-you-go cook, so we had the kitchen looking good before Ellen was out of the shower. I went upstairs to wait for her to come into our bedroom.
She came out of the bathroom looking pink, trailing a cloud of steam that smelled of flowers and coconut oil. Her hair wasn't wet; I guess it would have taken too long to dry it. She really was in a hurry to go to him. I watched as she pulled a matching bra and panty set from her underwear drawer, and put them on. "What did you want to talk about?" she asked.
"I wanted to ask you not to go out tonight," I said.
"What?" She turned around, seeing me for the first time. "Why? I promised Meg. I can't let her down." She turned away to step into her closet.
"Ellen, could you stop what you're doing for a minute, and talk to me?" I said, raising my voice a little, but not enough so that the girls would overhear.
She came back out of the closet holding a blouse I had never seen before; as she put it on, I saw that it showed off her arms and breasts to full effect.
"Sit down," I said, then added, "please." I patted the bed next to where I was sitting on it. She sat, still looking at me.
"If you want to save our marriage, you will stay home tonight, and work on our problem with me. And you have to start by being honest with me. If you can't do that, then I don't see how we can stay together."
"What are you talking about? Dan, honey, what do you need me to be honest about? I tell you everything."
"I need you to be honest about what you're not being honest with me about right now," I said, calmly. "I won't tell you what I know, and what I've guessed, because I need you to tell me of your own accord. I've been waiting for a while for you to do it on your own, but I've lost hope of that happening. This is our last chance. Tell me what you haven't been telling me."
Her face got red. "Are you accusing me of . . . of . . ." I guess she couldn't say it out loud, even now. "How dare you! What right do you have to insinuate that I haven't been honest with you?" She stood up and walked back into her closet.
"I have the right any man has whose wife is keeping secrets from him. Do you deny that you have been?"
