Remembered Acceptance: a Sequel

Remembered Acceptance: A Sequel

The following is a sequel to ConPulsion's recent story, "

Remembered Acceptance

," about a husband who comes home to find his wife had just spent the afternoon having sex with a neighbor. The story finishes with the impression that the husband is willing to share his wife with other men. This tale picks up where his story stops.

I would like to thank ConPusion for giving me permission to write this sequel. I also want to thank those who have offered comments and constructive criticism on my previous stories.

And now, the disclaimers:

For those who want to say this or that would never happen, remember this is my universe, a place where nearly anything can, and often does, happen. At least on paper... In addition:

Characters in this story may participate in one or more of the following: Smoking, consumption of adult (meaning, alcoholic) beverages, utterance of profanities.

All sexual activity is between consenting adults 18 years of age or older.

Statements or views uttered by the fictional characters in this story do not necessarily reflect the views or opinions of the author.

Please refer to my profile for more on my personal policy regarding comments, feedback, follows, etc. (Yes, I DO moderate comments) And please remember, this is a work of fiction, not a docu-drama...

...

To say I was stunned at my wife's last question would be an understatement. I had just come home from work to learn that Julie, my wife of 22 years, had just spent most of the afternoon screwing George Jackson, the widowed semi-retired lawyer who just moved into the neighborhood six months or so ago.

She admitted that she had fucked him four times and wanted me to know about it. But that wasn't all.

"I want you to let me share my pussy, my cunt," she said with her hand on her exposed and well-fucked crotch.

"You want me to let you continue fucking Mr. Jackson?" I asked, not believing my ears. But then it got even worse.

"Nearly right, darling," she softly said. "I want you to let me share my pussy, my cunt with Mr. Jackson and, and also with other men. Please, darling will you let me?"

I looked at her as she massaged her shaved crotch. I had a difficult time processing what she had just asked. She wants me to let her continue fucking Jackson and... other men. I recalled that day 23 years ago when we were just 19. We had just finished fucking each other when she asked, "When we are married, would you share me, if I asked you to?"

I remembered my answer to her at the time: "If you always fuck like that I'll probably need to share you." Of course, I was being sarcastic at the time and the subject never came up again. We married shortly afterward, raised two wonderful children and I thought we would spend the rest of our lives together. So much for the plans of mice and men, I thought.

The thing is, Julie could still fuck like she did when we were 19, even though we didn't have sex nearly as often as before. My mind was in turmoil when she snapped me back to reality.

"You remember what you told me before we got married?" she asked quietly.

"Yes, of course I do," I said. "But I was being rhetorical at the time. You do know what rhetorical means, don't you?"

"Of course I do, Tom. I'm not stupid," she said.

"Really?" I asked. "So now, after 22 years of marriage, you expect me to become your willing cuckold, is that it?" She had the decency to look somewhat ashamed at that. "Have you already sampled other men besides Jackson? Are the children even mine?" Her head snapped up and her eyes grew wide.

"How can you even ask me such a thing?" she asked.

"You've already put the horns on me, Julie," I said. "It's not an unreasonable question. I'd like some answers. How long have you been screwing Jackson? And have you already slept with other men besides him?"

"The children are both yours," she said. "I have not been with anyone else except Mr. Jackson. And I told you we've only been together four times."

"You never answered my question. How long?"

"Okay," she said. "It started a couple months ago, when you were in Dallas."

"And you expect me to just sit here and be your willing cuckold?" I asked, pressing the issue.

"Something like that," she said.

"So, how does this work, exactly? Do I help you get dressed for your dates? In clothes and jewelry I paid for. Am I supposed to guide his cock inside you, then sit and watch you fuck him, then clean you out after he cums inside you? Seriously, I want to know what you expect," I said. Her face lit up and she smiled listening to my questions.

"Yes," she said, nodding her head. "That would be so hot, wouldn't it?"

"Maybe for you," I said. "Frankly, it makes me sick to my stomach. Tell me, what do I get out of this?"

"You get the pleasure of cleaning me out and you get a happy wife who will do anything to make you feel good," she said.

"Except for being faithful to me," I said, feeling disgusted with what she had just told me.

"Well, you know what they say -- 'happy wife, happy life.' You do want me to be happy, don't you?" she asked.

"Of course," I said. "Because our marriage is all about whatever YOU want. Whatever makes YOU happy, isn't it? And what I want doesn't really matter, does it?" I asked, using the same tone I used to use when correcting our young children.

"Of course it does," she said. "That's why I'm asking you."

"Funny, you didn't ask me two months ago, before Jackson fucked you the first time," I said. "Tell me, how did that happen, by the way? Did he use drugs? Did he hit you with a slut ray or something?"

"Don't be silly," she said. "He saw me working in the front yard that day and asked where you were. I told him you were in Dallas for a couple days on a business trip so he asked if I'd like to go out for dinner with him. I agreed, and we went to a real nice steak house, then he took me drinking and dancing. The next thing I knew, we were in a hotel room."

"And what? You were rendered powerless, unable to say, 'no, I'm a married woman?' Or did you just not care?"

"Well, I did have a few drinks," she said. "And you know how horny I get when I've had a few."

"I see. You remember me asking you where you were that night? I tried calling the house phone, but it went straight to voicemail. Same thing with your cell phone. Remember what you told me? That you were asleep when I called and didn't hear the phone? That was a lie, wasn't it?" I asked.

"Well, only technically," she said. "I was asleep when you called."

"In a hotel room with George fucking Jackson," I snarled. "So, you not only cheated on me while I was busy with Dad putting together a very lucrative deal for the firm, you lied to me as well. What about the other times?"

"I only did it when you were away," she said. "I went to his house and spent the night. I forwarded the house number to my phone and made sure I answered it when you called. So you see, I never took any time away from you at all."

"So, you slept in his bed while I was out working to secure our financial future. Is that right?" I asked. "Tell me, did you ever give me sloppy seconds?"

"No, I would never do that to you," she said.

"Did you at least use any protection?"

"He said he was clean and had a vasectomy," she told me.

"Uh huh. And of course, you believed him. For all you know, he could have an incurable disease, which you would have passed on to me," I said. She looked at me, shocked.

"No, I would never do that to you," she said. "I love you."

"I'm relieved to hear that," I said. "I'd hate to think what you would do if you disliked me."

"What kind of a person do you think I am?" she asked.

"You really don't want me to answer that, do you?" I asked. "So, explain to me what makes you think I'd even be willing to accept something like this?"

"Well, first, because you love me," she said. "George says guys like you..."

"Guys like me?" I asked, interrupting her. "What do you mean, guys like me?"

"He says you're a beta and all betas like to see their wife get fucked by another man," she said. "He even showed me some stories online about guys who get off on watching their wives with other men."

"I see. And you read these stories, thinking they were real. Am I right so far?"

"Well, I read them, and figured there had to be some truth to it," she said. "And I thought that if you really love me, you'd be okay with me entertaining other men."

"What if I decided to entertain other women? Would you be okay with that?" I asked. Her eyes opened wide at that.

"Of course not," she said. "You're my husband. I'd divorce you in a heartbeat if you cheated on me." Then her face changed as she suddenly realized the hypocrisy she just displayed. "Oh, God," she moaned. "I've screwed up royally, haven't I?"

"Yes, I'd say you have," I told her.

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

"What do you think?" I asked in response. Tears started falling as the realization hit her.

"You're going to... divorce me?" she asked through her tears.

"I'd say that's a pretty safe bet," I told her. "I suppose lover-boy probably told you he'd help you destroy me if I filed for divorce, didn't he?"

"Y...yes, he did," she said. "He told me he'd help me. Said I could get the house, half of our assets, even part of the business and your retirement."

"I suppose you forgot about that little document my father had us both sign before we got married," I told her. My father wisely had us sign a prenuptial agreement to protect my assets, which included the trust fund I inherited from my grandparents and my part of the family business. The house we lived in had belonged to my grandparents, but was placed in a trust before they died. My parents let us stay in the place provided I handled the maintenance and taxes on the place. The agreement also included a clause that said in the event of infidelity, the guilty party walks away with nothing other than his or her personal items -- no maintenance, nothing.

"So, you're kicking me out with nothing?" she asked through her tears.

"That's the agreement you signed," I said. She shook as she sobbed on the floor in front of me.

"But where will I go? What will I do?" she pleaded.

"I'd suggest you pack some things and go stay with your parents for now," I said. "I also suggest you get yourself tested for STDs, then start looking for a job. I promised your parents I'd take care of you, and I have for 22 years. I'll call them and let them know you're coming over. And if you're smart, you'll stay away from George fucking Jackson." I stood up and put my jacket back on.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"To collect my balls," I told her. She looked at me, confused. "It's a guy thing. I don't think you'd understand," I added. "I expect you to be gone by the time I get back."

I grabbed her purse and took her checkbook, ATM and credit cards and house keys. The credit cards would get canceled first. She still had a couple hundred dollars in her wallet, so I let her keep that. When I came back to the front room, I grabbed her left hand and pulled off her wedding and engagement rings.

She was still sobbing on the floor when I walked out of the house. Jackson lived a few doors down from us, so it wouldn't take me long to get there. I pulled out my phone and called Julie's parents. Her father answered the phone.

"Hey, Tom, what's up?" her father, Barry, asked.

"I hate to say this, Pops, but I'm kicking Julie out and she needs a place to stay for a while," I said.

"Wait, what?" he asked. "You're kicking her out? What happened?"

"She's been cheating on me with one of the neighbors and expected me to share her with him and other men. That's just unacceptable to me, so I'll be filing for divorce," I said.

"Do you have proof of that?" he asked.

"The guy was in my house when I got home. They had just finished up when I walked in. Then she hit me with her demand that I let her make me a willing cuckold. As much as I love her, there's no way I can allow that to go on," I said.

"So I take it you're going to use the prenup against her?" Barry asked.

"Yes," I said.

"That'll leave her with nothing," he said.

"Her car is paid off, so she has that. Of course, she can have all her clothing. But other than that, yeah, she'll pretty much have nothing," I said. "So, she'll need a place to stay for a bit until she can get back on her feet."

"Damn," Barry said. "And there's no way around this? I thought you two were doing well."

"I thought so too, Pops," I said. I loved Julie's parents as my own, and took to calling her father "Pops" after we got married. "Turns out she's been cheating on me for a couple months now. And she expects me to just accept it," I added.

"That stupid girl," he said. "Of course she can stay here as long as she needs, Tom. I'm so sorry this happened."

"I am too, Pops," I said. "I'll talk to you later." We said our goodbyes and I walked the rest of the way to Jackson's house. When I got there, I looked at the front door before ringing the bell. I was fuming when I left my house but had calmed down a bit since talking to Julie's father.

I decided to play it cool and see how Jackson responded. I started the video app on my phone and put it in my pocket, knowing the camera lens would be just above the pocket. He must've seen me at the door, because he opened it before I could ring the bell.

"What do you want, cuck?" he asked with a smirk on his face.

"We need to talk, Jackson," I said calmly.

"Are you armed?" he asked. I lifted my jacket and turned around so he could see I didn't have a gun. "Alright, come on in," he said, eyeing me warily. I went into the house and looked around. It was sparsely furnished and I noticed there were no photos anywhere. In fact, there was nothing to suggest he even had a family.

"Want something to drink?" he asked. I shook my head.

"No, thanks, I won't be here that long," I said.

"Alright, so say your piece and get moving," he said.

"Julie tells me you were married once," I said.

"Yeah. Wife died in a car crash a few months back," he said. "I came here to get on with my life."

"So, tell me something, Jackson. What would you have done if you came home from work and found your wife fucking another man in your house?" I asked.

"That's easy. I'd kick his ass then divorce the bitch," he said with a wicked smile.

"Julie tells me she wants me to share her with you... and other men," I said. He laughed at that. "Was that your idea?"

"Yeah, it was," he said. "You know, your wife is the best fuck I've ever had. You're a lucky man, you know that? Having a piece of ass like her around. You don't deserve to have something that good all to yourself."

"And that's all she is to you, isn't she? A piece of ass. Something to get your rocks off with," I said. He shrugged his shoulders.

"Pretty much," he said. "And I intend to have that ass anytime I want. So you might as well get used to seeing me around. A lot. I might even bring a few of my buddies with me. Ever see a woman get made airtight? You know, a cock in her ass, a cock in her pussy and a cock in her mouth at the same time. I bet you'd love that, wouldn't you, cucky boy?"

"And you don't give a damn what happens to her, her family or her reputation, do you?" I asked.

"Why should I?" he asked as he shrugged his shoulders. "Find 'em, fuck 'em, forget 'em. That's my motto."

"You use drugs on her when you fucked her?" I asked.

"Of course," he said. "A little bit of Ecstasy gets 'em wet every time. I didn't have to today, though. Once she developed a taste for my nine inches, she was drooling for it."

"Well, Jackson, as I see it, I only have three options," I said. "The first one would put me in prison for life, so that's out of the question. I suppose I could sue you for alienation of affection."

"Yeah, except this state quit doing that a few years back," Jackson said.

"So I guess the only option I have is to kick your ass. How many times did you say you fucked her? Four?"

"Yeah, four times. Counting today," he said.

"So, that means I get to kick you in the balls four times. Once for every time you fucked her." He laughed at that.

"Are you shittin' me? You think you can kick my ass? Hah. Listen, cuck, you think I didn't check you out before I targeted your wife?" he asked. "I know all about you. Poor little rich boy, worth just over eight million dollars with your trust fund and your fancy office job, working for your daddy. Go ahead, make your move and I'll sue your ass for everything you've got. And I'll still fuck your wife whenever I want."

"So, you deliberately targeted my wife to get at my money, is that it?" I asked.

"Why not?" he asked. "You got it. I want it. I get what I want. So go ahead, make your move. After I mop the floor with your face, I'll file formal charges and sue your ass. And I'll fuck your wife while you're in the hospital."

"You think I'm stupid enough to attack you here in your own home?" I asked. "No, I'm talking about a public match. With witnesses. You and me, one-on-one, in the ring. I'll even make you a little wager."

"Oh really? What'd you have in mind?" he asked.

"Everything you own against my wife. I'm divorcing the cunt anyway, but that takes a while. If I win, you sign everything you own to me. House, car, everything. If you win, you can have the cunt. That is, if she still wants you. Are you up to it? Are you man enough to put up everything you own?" I asked.

"Are you serious?" he asked.

"Do I look like I'm joking?" I asked in response. He thought for a few moments before responding.

"Alright. When and where?" he asked.

"This Saturday. 8:30 pm. At Johnson's Gym over on Main Street. You, me, some witnesses and a referee. No weapons. No tricks. We fight until one of us can't get up anymore. The winner walks away with no repercussions. Still up for it?" I asked.

"I'll kick your ass, then fuck your wife right there in the ring, cuck boy," he said through gritted teeth. I smiled and extended a hand.

"Shake on it," I said. He took my hand and we glared at each other as we shook. "In the meantime, stay away from my house."

"You got it, cuck," he hissed. I smiled as I stood and walked out of his house. What he didn't know is that I had worked out at that gym for the last 20 years. Abe Johnson, the man who owned the gym, was a good friend of mine who taught me a lot about fighting. And not just boxing, although he taught me that as well.

We became friends in college and I helped him finance the gym when he first started it. After his own career ended, he decided that he wanted to work with inner city youth to help keep them off drugs and out of gangs. Over the years, he had become something of a hero to the young people in the area. I became his first paying customer, even though he offered to let me work out and train there for free. I smiled to myself as I walked back to my house.

When I got there, I noticed Julie's car was gone. Good, I thought to myself. I walked inside and saw a note she had left for me on the kitchen counter.

"Tom," the note began. "I'm going to my parents' house. I'm so sorry for everything. Please believe that I love you with all my heart and I never wanted to hurt you. I won't fight the divorce, if that's what you truly want. I only hope and pray that you can forgive me someday."

The letter was signed, "Your loving wife, Julie." I put the note back on the counter and pulled out my phone to call Abe.

"Are you fucking crazy, Tom?" he asked when I told him the story.

"Hey, with everything you've taught me, I can handle him," I said.