My Wife Butch And Me

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I wrote this story to please me. If it should please you also, that's icing on the cake. Since I'm always trying to improve my writing, I welcome all comments regarding the story, good or bad. Don't waste your time on the personal insults. If you are wise enough to actually offer ways I can improve, or point out something I should have done different AND how I should have done it, I'll be eternally grateful. My thanks to those who have made just such suggestions over the years.

*****

You want to know if something really loves you? Turn it loose. If it returns to you, it really loves you. My words seemed so wise back when my son was agonizing over his pet coyote pup rejoining its wild cousins.

Well, they came back to bite me in the ass the day Susan, my wife of twenty-five-five years, told me she loved another man as much as she loved me.

How do you react to those words? I wanted to hit her, or maybe just kill the other guy, kick her ass to the curb, but we didn't have a curb and I realized I didn't want to face life without her by my side, so I'd better think before I went off halfcocked.

Maybe, before I just drop something like that on you, I should go back to the beginning, or at least to the point when the world was young, we would always love each other, and live happily ever after.

Susan and I went to high school together...maybe I should rephrase that—we attended Jones High School at the same time. Besides sharing a lot of classes, she didn't know I existed.

The same couldn't be said of me. I was the nerdy kid who was a math whiz and a straight A student—you know the kind—the little bastard who always ruined the grading curve. No, I was too chicken to ask her out, but that didn't keep me from jacking off while looking at her picture in the yearbook. Man! Was she something, all dressed up in that cheerleader's outfit.

As you can probably guess Miss Susan Berry was the most popular girl in our class; the sweetheart of the school's star quarterback, Butch Andrews. Every girl in school was green with envy and jockeyed for 'Best Bud status'.

Yes, Susan Berry was completely out of my class. That's why I was dumbstruck the day she approached me after school. "Can I ask you something, Jack?" I'm sure the angels in heaven must have sounded just like that.

"Uh-uh sure...I guess." Was that really me? How could I sound so stupid? I mean, I could barely get those words out. Finally I managed to mutter, without sounding so juvenile, "What can I do for you, Susan?"

Well, it turned out that she needed help with her math class. "You simply must help me, Jack. You're the smartest boy in the class, and the only one I'd trust in a spot like this." She turned on that million dollar smile, fluttered those dark eyelashes and I was hooked. If she'd asked me to fight the entire football team, I'd have gotten my ass kicked, but I'd have torn into them, tooth and nail.

To make a long story short, we spent over an hour each day alone in her room while I drilled the most beautiful girl in the world, to me at least, on the finer points of math. I thought we'd become good friends, especially since Susan agreed to have a soda with me at Maxey's Drugs. This was back in the days small town drug stores still had a fountain and was the teenage hangout. Tame huh?

By then I was losing much of my shyness around girls, thanks to Susan, so one memorable day, when we were having a soda, I finally got up the nerve to go for it. "Susan", I said, trying to portray a confidence I didn't feel, "Would you do me the honor of being my date for the prom?" Yeah, I really got it out without stumbling over the words.

Sweet little Susan smiled and gently took my hand. Holding it in both of hers she answered. "You're sweet Jack, and I'm sure we'd have a good time, but I'm already going with Butch. You do know we're a couple, don't you?"

"Guess I forgot," I muttered, gathering up my books. I just had to get out of there. "Anyway, it's been a pleasure helping you and I'm sure you'll do well on the math exam. See you around." As I pushed out the front door I heard giggles and someone ask Susan why 'the nerd' would dare ask such a thing. I never did hear her reply.

Anyway, we finished the school year, I went on to study engineering at Clemson while Susan got a degree in nursing from Carolina. Butch had spent a lot more time studying football than any required subjects, so when his Dad's job transferred him up north, Butch and the rest of the family followed.

He'd hung around home until his family got settled in from the move and then joined the Army and stayed to make a career of it. Since his parents were no longer there, he never came back to Jones Corner until many years later.

I ran into Susan at a Carolina-Clemson game in our junior year at college. When I asked her to have one of the great milkshakes, Clemson's Ag Section sold, she agreed. From that humble beginning the rest, as they say, is history. Susan actually seemed to like being with me and if she didn't drive up to Clemson on weekends, I went down to Carolina. Weekdays, we burned up the phone lines between Clemson and Columbia.

Finally, after we'd been dating for five months with nothing more sexual than a lot of hot petting, I decided it was time to take the next step; it was time to make sweet little Susan a woman. Yeah, I was just that stupid; having always respected her and putting her on a pedestal, it didn't cross my mind that she'd have more experience than my four times with one girl, the first two of them were the thing TV comedies are made of, while the last two times I managed to hold out long enough to rock her world before filling a Trojan.

I planned it all out. I knew the perfect spot out by Lake Hartwell. We packed a tent and everything we might need for a weekend stay. I even made sure to pack a dozen condoms of different brands; you can't be too careful, you know, and I'd heard some girls preferred one brand over another. The trip was perfect; beautiful weather, beautiful woman in a skimpy bikini and me. What more could a fellow ask?

We spent the first day swimming and sunbathing. I liked the sunbathing best for I got to rub on the suntan lotion; especially the first time. I started with her back, moved down to the place her bottoms covered, then skipped to her feet and started north. I could feel her come unglued as my big hands covered every inch of her bare skin.

Finally I didn't stop at the bikini line; instead my fingers touched her secret place and it was like an electric shock shot through my body. The way she started squirming when my fingers slipped beneath the material, she must have felt the same. Before you could say boo, I had two fingers massaging her slick passage and she was groaning and begging me to stop teasing her. From then until we broke camp late Sunday afternoon we went through all but two of the condoms and I was completely head over heels in love.

It was getting dark as we drove back to her campus, soft music filled the car and Susan sat close to me, her feet propped on the dashboard, her short skirt showing leg and just a bit of white panties. God was in His heaven and all was well with the world—then things got better.

"I love you Jack," she whispered just loud enough to be heard over the music. Her hand worked my cock out of its cloth prison and she fondled me all the way back to Carolina. Twice I blasted my cum all over her hand.

******

Now fast forward twenty-two years. That's the year we celebrated anniversary number twenty with a party. Charlie, our son and the apple of Susan's eye, came home from Clemson to help celebrate. Tina, our daughter, was a struggling sophomore at N C State. She was torn between majoring in studying and partying and still hadn't found a way to balance the two. I might add, Tina was a big time 'Daddy's Girl' and had me wrapped around her little finger.

I mention this party because it was the first small black cloud on horizon, a harbinger of the hurricane that was destined to shake my life and almost destroy my marriage. If not for the love I had for my kids, especially Tina, it would probably have swept my old life out to sea.

Up until this time I would have sworn our marriage was solid, that nothing could come between me and Susan. I mean we had it all—adequate money, good friends, a solid religious life, I was a Deacon and she taught Sunday School. You know the type folks I'm talking about; the folks who can be counted on to support any charitable event, whether it's a Bar-B-Q cookout to raise money for a good cause or a community get together to clean up an old person's yard, or what have you. If there was a need we were there

So what happened? Nothing really earthshaking at the time, but the morning Charlie was due to arrive home from school, Susan answered the ringing phone. "It's Charlie," she declared, switching it over to speaker.

"Hey Mom," I heard Charlie ask, "Is it okay if I bring a friend along? He says his dad grew up in our town and he'd love to see it."

"Of course Charlie, the more the merrier; I have lots of work to get the church's Social Hall ready, so an extra pair of hands is always welcome." Both Susan and Charlie laughed at that, but I knew there was a lot of truth to it. Before the party tomorrow night, she'd have those boys and me worn to a frazzle decorating the hall to meet her standards.

Three hours later the front door opened. "Where's everybody?" Charlie's voice boomed. "Your number one son is home!" We could hear footsteps approaching the kitchen, where Susan and I were working. She turned just as Charlie grabbed her in a bear hug. I had my hands messed up from readying Bar-B-Q hash, so I just observed the homecoming instead of joining them.

"Mom, Dad, this is Andy, my best friend from School." I couldn't see who Charlie was talking about from my position, but I had a good view of Susan, and I'd have sworn she'd have collapsed if Charlie hadn't been there to support her. Alarmed, I quickly wiped my hands and rushed to my wife's side. Then I saw what had startled her.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Jones." A smiling young man offered his hand. He was well over six feet tall, obviously an athlete, probably a football player, and I'm sure any woman would call him handsome, but that wasn't what knocked Susan for a loop—he was also a carbon copy of Butch Andrews, Susan's old boyfriend and, I suspect, her first lover.

I must admit, Susan recovered quickly. After she welcomed the boys, she started barking orders like a Drill Instructor. She kept us men jumping the rest of the day and the next morning, until finally everything passed her inspection.

"Wow, Mom!" Charlie said as he wiped his sweaty brow with a dish towel, which his mother immediately snatched out of his hand. "If I knew you'd work us like that, I'd have at least warned Andy. I bet he'll never accept another invitation to come home with me."

Usually Susan gives everybody she meets a through interrogation about family—where they are from and what they do. That's why I was surprised she didn't ask Andy about his father. There was no doubt in my mind, from the first, that Andy had to be Butch's son, and when he said his last name was Andrews that cinched it. My wife's old boyfriend's son was staying in our house and she hadn't asked a word about his father—strange...

The anniversary party was a great success, all seemed to have a good time, and my ass was dragging by the time we got home afterwards. All of us went straight to bed, swearing we'd sleep till noon. I didn't quite make it till noon, because nature had me up at three. That's when I realized Susan wasn't in bed, so after relieving the water pressure I went searching for her.

Approaching the kitchen, I heard voices; Susan and Andy were sitting at the counter; both were sipping on a steaming cup of something, probably tea. Hot tea is Susan's favorite drink, so I was sure she'd try to make a convert of Andy. She tried with everyone else who stayed with us for more than a few hours. She insisted it was healthy; me—I figured if that's what it took live longer; I'd just take my chances.

I could hear that she was questioning him about his father—where he lived, what he was doing, how his mother was, and such stuff. Susan looked surprised when I stepped into the light. She quickly twisted her stool so she was facing the counter instead of Andy. I'm not the jealous type, but judging by the way she blushed, I did wonder just how good a view Andy had.

"Hi Honey, Andy and I were just getting acquainted. You know how busy it's been around here. We wouldn't want him to go back thinking we weren't social, would we?"

"Anything special you were talking about?" I poured myself a half glass of orange juice, and then leaned upon the counter facing them.

"Nawww, she just wanted to know about ..."

"How he was doing grade wise." She broke in.

I know you're thinking I'm about as sharp as a butter knife, but at the time I was so sure of Susan's loyalty I didn't give it a second thought. I suppose knowing Susan was a flirt, she loved to tease young guys, but that's all she did—tease, so I chalked the incident up to Susan being Susan.

*****

That brings us up to today, a little over two years after the party. Our sex life was really good for the first eighteen months or so after the party. Did I say good? I should have said GREAT! I don't remember just how long after the party took for what used to be regular married sex turned into 'Oh my God!' sex. This woman, who'd never think of doing anything you'd call kinky, turned into a sex machine.

First she started wanting to do it doggie style, whereas before, missionary in the bedroom with the lights on, was about as wild as it got. From doggie our routine expanded to oral sex; suddenly she could give a blowjob that would make Linda Lovelace jealous. After that she wanted to try anal, which I really didn't care for but as they say, "It's a dirty job, but someone has to do it." I mean she was fucking me so much that when I sat down for breakfast, it seemed I saw a pussy instead of a plate of ham and eggs before me. In fact, the only break I got was the nights she worked late.

I'm sure you heard the old saying about not looking a gift horse in the mouth; well I was enjoying the new Susan so much I didn't ask why, I just ate a lot of steak and eggs so I could keep my energy up—that and thanked the Lord for giving me a woman who loved me so.

Then about six weeks ago, a funny thing happened, or I suppose I should say a strange thing happened. You know how it is, a guy goes along fat, dumb and happy, accepting things as they com—and all of a sudden, something clicks. Something makes you ask, "Why?" My something was walking into the bedroom where Susan was on the phone with someone. Her voice was low, like she was afraid of being heard, but I managed to hear the words, "mess up my marriage" before she realized I was there.

"I'll be with you in a minute," she mouthed at me as she strolled into the bathroom. Some minutes later I heard the toilet flush and she came out. The phone was in her pocket.

"What's up, Honey?" She hugged me, and then pulled my face down toward hers. Standing tiptoe, her lips captured mine and her tongue explored my tonsils. If she was trying to distract me, it worked. My cock rose to attention; when it poked her, she slipped a hand down to welcome it, and before long I had her stretched out on our bed. She lifted her hips to help me tug her pants and panties down. I tossed them aside with the panties still in her pants.

One thing I love is a hairy bush on a woman, and Susan's filled the bill very nicely. I dropped between her legs, kissing my way up from her ankles to that patch of curly hair, which I then parted so I could get to work on her puffy lips. She shuddered when my tongue rolled around her clit; her hands grabbed my hair and pulled me so tight I could hardly breathe.

She moaned and her body went limp with her first orgasm. "That was so good," she said after recovering for a few moments. "Now get up here and let me taste my juices."

Naturally I did as told. "My turn now," I said after a little Frenching. I pulled her legs over my shoulders, ran my cock along the full length of her slit several times, driving her wild each time the bulbous head touched her clit.

"Stop teasing me," she begged. "I need you now." Saying that, she shifted her hips enough to change the angle of attack, and my cock slid in her to the hilt. By the time I rolled off, she had had three more orgasms, by my count, and I was completely sated.

We lay there, side by side, just basking in the afterglow; each lost in the moment and loving it. As the moment magical moment faded into reality, I remembered the phone conversation.

"Who was on the phone, Baby?"

Susan seemed to hesitate just one beat too long before answering. "Just Louise."

"Yeah—what did she want?"

"Oh nothing, she was just asking about the Sunday School teachers meeting."

I think that's when the little light bulb flashed in my mind; first she ducks into the bathroom and now she thinks a moment before telling me what I suspected was a lie. Of course I didn't know, but I couldn't think of any way the words, 'mess up my marriage' fit in a conversation about Sunday School. I almost questioned her, but to tell the truth, I didn't want to sound like I didn't trust her. Especially I didn't want to start an argument after the screwing she just put on me. So I just filed it away in the back corner of my mind.

For some reason, after the incident of the phone call, our sex lives settled back into our old routine, with one exception, every Monday and Thursday nights Susan was insatiable. I mean we would often make love until one or two in the morning. I know some say you can't tell when a woman is faking it, but I swear I don't believe she was faking those orgasms. If she was, she deserves an Oscar for the best actress of the year. She never quit until I unloaded my balls, and sometimes she even tried to get me up again. As much as it hurt my masculine pride to admit it, my wife was more of a sex machine than I was. With age I found I could stay in the saddle longer—a lot longer; but once I blasted off, the days of the quick recovery were over. All I needed then was my beauty sleep, so I could make it to work on time.

One night, after a marathon session, when she still wanted more, she asked what happened, if I was feeling bad.

"I don't know what happened, Baby, but for some reason, you've been just like a young filly while I seemed to become more like an old warhorse." Man! We're having as much or more sex than when we first got married."

"Don't you like it?

"I love it," I assured her, "but I have to wonder what changed—why you seem so hot to trot lately."

"I gotta take care of my hubby or some other gal might scoop you up." Apparently she didn't want to continue that conversation because as she spoke, she was walking into the bathroom. The water ran for probably five minutes, and then shortly thereafter she crawled back into bed, saying "Hoowee, that hot shower hit the spot." Scooting her naked body so close there wasn't room for a bedbug to get between us, she gave me a one arm squeeze. "Almost forgot to tell you," she said, "I'll probably be late again tomorrow night. Boss got some special tax things he wants me to take care of."

In minutes she was asleep, but I still lay there, thinking. 'What the hell's wrong with you, Jack?' The little white devil on my right shoulder asked. 'You're getting more pussy than you have in years and you're questioning why? You're crazy.'

'Yeah,' the little red devil on my left shoulder countered, 'but why do the big nights come just before the days she works late? Tuesdays it seems she always has something to do that keeps her after hours, and Friday nights is 'girl's night out' and she doesn't get home till midnight. You better check into things, sucker.'