By Likegoodwinecopyrighted July 2011
Your votes and constructive comments are appreciated as they will help me grow.
Thanks to Blackstallion21 for his fine editing
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Chapter 1
The last few months have been a real eyes opener for my wife and me. Yes, size does matter!
My name is Peter Smyth - with a y - and I am 37 years old. Up till two weeks ago, I thought that Maryanne and I had a very nice marriage. After 12 years of married bliss and three children, 10, 8 and 5 years old, our love life was a bit predictable but filled with a lot of love and affection.
We were still two good-looking adults although not fashion magazine material, that's for sure. I am a bit less than 6' tall and weight 190 lbs. I have a little padding around the waist, but nothing too obvious. Maryanne is 5'4" and weight 140 lbs., with the same extra-padding that goes with our somewhat sedentary lifestyle, our diet, and -- for her - giving birth to three kids.
And while we are on the subject, my penis is average in length (6") and width. So there is no reason my wife would find it impossible to deep throat me although she rarely did that in the last 10 years.
Maryanne has been a bit distant lately, constantly nagging at me for absolutely no reason, getting irate over the smallest things and being totally irresponsive in the bedroom. We had our share of dry spells in our marriage, but now it was worrying me. This is without mentioning the many cases of blue balls that I developed in the last month when my only relief was self-induced.
When confronted with the situation one evening, after the kids were in bed for the night, Maryanne denied at first that anything was wrong. But when I kept pushing her, she finally admitted that she was a bit concerned with a serious matter at work. When I offered to talk it over with her, as we often do when we are dissatisfied with our professional life, she simply brushed me off, saying that the issues would settle themselves in due time. I let it drop. In retrospect, I should have pushed harder, but it is now wishful thinking.
One Friday evening, Maryanne asked me if I would mind keeping an eye on the kids the next day, as she had to go to work for a few hours. That was a weird request. It happens once in a while that we have to work on Saturday and the other is always left in charge of the kids.
"No problem, Honey!" I answered. "Will you be back by lunch time?"
"No!" she said evasively. "As a matter of fact, I will be going to work in the afternoon, not the morning."
"Yeah, sure!" I said.
And the matter was dropped. I tried again later to entice her for a little cozy time in the bedroom but Maryanne was too tired.
We slept late the next morning, well as late as our 5 years old boy would allow. Shortly before noon, Maryanne went upstairs to get ready for work. When she came down, I was in for a surprise. Instead of coming in the kitchen were I was getting a little lunch ready for the kids, I heard her go straight for the front door.
"I am on my way, Honey. See you later!" she yelled, and I heard the door slammed shut. I looked by the kitchen window. By stretching a bit, it is possible to see the driveway. The sight that greeted me was astonishing. Normally, when we go to work on Saturday, we dress casual: running shoes, jeans, t-shirt, sweater... Maryanne was wearing one of her nice close fitting black dress that she keeps mostly for our nights out, and some black lacy hoses. What the Hell!
I tried to reach her on her cell but it must be turned off because each call went to voice-mail. And I was stuck home with the kids. Later, after feeding the kids and giving her time to drive to work, I phoned there.
"Sunrise Insurance, Sam Morgan speaking!"
Sam Morgan was the new office manager, coming from the head office three months ago. I never met him yet.
"Hi M. Morgan. I'm Peter Smyth. Would it be possible to speak to my wife, please?"
There was a silence for a few second on the line.
"Hum... There is no Mrs. Smyth working here. You must have the wrong number. Sorry!" he finally said before hanging up.
What the...! I dialed again.
"Sunrise Insurance, Sam Morgan speaking!"
"M. Morgan, It's Peter Smyth again! I know that you are new at the office, but I am trying to reach Maryanne, my wife. She's been working for Sunrise Insurance for the last 14 years."
"Ho! I'm sorry. No, Mrs. Blair is not in yet. I expect her any minutes now," was his simple answer, an answer that swept me off my chair. I said thanks and hung up.
I couldn't believe that Maryanne was going under her maiden name at work. What was the meaning of that? She has been Mrs. Maryanne Smyth for the last 12 years for Christ sake. I was about to phone back a third time at her work when a commotion erupted in the back yard. Kyle, our youngest, had made a fall and he was crying, holding up his hand that had taken the brunt of the fall. I took care of him, making sure it's was nothing serious, and he went back outside a few minutes later.
When I phoned again at work, there was no answer, the call going to their answering service. I kept phoning, with the same result. My mind was in turmoil. I wasn't able to shake the dark clouds that seemed to be gathering over my marriage to Maryanne.
I had plenty of hours to think back about the state of our married life. Maryanne's change of attitude toward me was at the forefront of it all. I had a feeling that she didn't love me anymore. She never said a word to that effect, but taking into account that she now goes under her maiden name, that she dressed extra sexy to go to work on a Saturday and that she isn't where she is supposed to be, I was sure that she was having an affair and that I was on the way out of her life.
I was crushed! My life with Maryanne and the kids was everything to me. Unlike some colleagues, my work came second in my life priorities; my wife and my kids always came first. But now I was facing the obvious fact that my marriage was crumbling all around me.
Yes, our marriage wasn't perfect, but I couldn't understand that she would betray us -- the kids and me - like that. Asking for a divorce is one thing I could understand. It would be painful, but I saw it happened to many couples over the years. However, going behind my back with some jock was downright hurtful and mean.
I couldn't believe she would do that. I could swear on my mom's grave that Maryanne still loved me. I had to keep my calm. There has to be some explanation and I would ask for it, that's a given. I just had to take care of the kids and wait.
By the time Maryanne made it back home, around 7 o'clock - no phone call to say that she would be late for supper - I was raving mad. Only the presence of our kids made me keep my anger in check when she came through the front door. One good look at her, no make-up left, her hair disheveled and without her hoses and it was obvious: she had just received a good fuck.
She stopped in her tracks when she looked at me and saw the obvious anger written all over my face.
I came to her and told her out of the kids' earshot: "After the kids are asleep, we will have a serious talk".
She didn't say a word, guilt covering her from head to toe, and she rushed upstairs. Minutes later, I heard the shower going. I went upstairs. The bathroom door was locked, but a coat hanger had it opened in seconds. Maryanne was in the shower and her clothing lay in a pile on the floor. Or what remained of her clothing. There was no bra - I don't even know if she was wearing one this morning -- no hoses, and no panties - I didn't know either if she was wearing panties this morning. No panties? I checked the dress again, and there it was, discoloring the blackness of the dress: cum that had dripped from her pussy, probably while she was driving home.
For the rest of the evening, there was a frosty silence between us. Even the kids sensed that something was wrong because they were also kind of subdued all evening. At 10PM -- "Come on Dad! It's Saturday!" - the kids were put to bed and Maryanne and me ended up alone in the living room.
I sat on the armchair while Maryanne was on the couch looking at me with sadness and guilt. Before I even uttered a word, she started crying.
"So?" I asked icily. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
"I don't know what you mean?" she mumbled.
"Oh, come on! You go to work on a Saturday wearing your nicest outfit, a bra, your panties and some panty hoses. You're not at work where you are suppose to be then you come back, no panty hose, no bra and no panties, dried semen all over your dress and you rush to take a shower," I growled. "You're behaving like a dirty slut in front of the kids and we are lucky that they are not older than they are. Why did you do that to me?"
"I'm sorry Peter!" she said listlessly, her head hanging low. "Everything got out of hand."
"For Christ sake, Maryanne!" I shouted. "Can't you at least acknowledge our 12 years together before going to fuck around? Couldn't you simply ask me for a divorce and helped me preserve some dignity instead of acting like a slut? Do you hate me that much?"
She raised her head at the 'D' word.
"No, no! It's not what you think Peter!" she said. "I don't want a divorce. I love you, and I love the kids and I don't want to lose you."
"You're kidding me!" I said. "You go get yourself fucked and you think that I won't divorce you? You think I will ever be able to hold you in my arms without the urge to crush your windpipe? You think I will ever be able to make love to you, knowing that you are fucking around on me? Are you nuts?"
"Please, Peter!" she answered. "Let me explain".
"Explain what?" I yelled jumping from my chair. "Explain what a good fuck you had? Explain how my failings pushed you in another man's arms? If we weren't so strapped for cash, I would be already checked in a motel room somewhere, you cheating bitch!"
"I was just curious Peter, that's..." she started to say.
"Oh yeah! That will ease my pain," was my sarcastic retort. "I was curious to see how it would be fucking other men behind your back. Maryanne, where you curious to see my reactions to your whoring?"
