It didn't end well. But the journey wasn't without its highlights.
I had dated Carol, the ex, for nearly five years before we married. We had met in high school. I had reservations about marrying her, which is, I suppose, common. But she had raised (practically) several nieces and nephews and, having come from a large family, could cook great for such a young woman. She deplored that her brothers cheated on her sister in laws. And she was HOT. Compact and curvy in all the right places, five-foot two, 34B-25-35. Lovely face. So, we married.
A daughter was born after a year. Money was tight but we were happy. Our sex life, while routine, was satisfying. She looked great nude, she would swallow (sometimes!) and her pussy tasted great! We would watch adult movies on occasion and very little was off limits.
When our child was about a year old, the wife's sister told her about a job opportunity in the building where the sister worked. It was a clerical type job at a courier company that was expanding from it's Florida roots to north Georgia and Carol could get in on the 'ground floor.' She hadn't worked since the birth of our child and was looking to go back to work.
"Donna said that it starts at $9 an hour and I'd be working directly for the manager!',
Carol told me. "And he asked Donna if I was good looking...' Red flag number one, but I wasn't too concerned. By this time we'd been together nearly seven years and she had never given me any reason to be jealous. And we could certainly use the money.
'I can understand them wanting an attractive women in the office,' I said, 'and they'll have that for sure. And you're competent , too, so they should be happy.' This was true. Carol was a hard worker: Not much on abstract thought but once she learned a task she was as reliable and conscientious as they come. 'And the money will surely come in handy,' I added truthfully. That she would ever stray was the furthest thing from my mind.
Things started out well enough but the hours were long. I accepted it without a thought. She was being paid overtime and our domestic life was unaffected. But slowly, things began to change. Her dress for work became increasingly sexy and revealing. She began regularly coming home at 7:30 instead of 6 p.m.. Frequently, she would have to call her boss about 'business' once she got home and would have to go to our room and close the door 'so the baby won't interrupt.'
I worked only a short distance from her office and sometimes had reason to go by after work. I would need to get the baby's bag or get money to pay the sitter. On these occasions her boss, Mark, who was a tall, dark, Latin man, obviously very attractive to the opposite sex, had become progressively obsequious, all "buddy-buddy" even though we didn't really know each other. I was beginning to become suspicious. The frequency of intimacy was dwindling and she had become impatient and less affectionate.
Then it happened. The call. It came late, after she would normally have been home.
'Ed, I'm going to be real late,' began the call. 'We were expecting a delivery but the driver is broke down in Unadilla and I have to go with Mark and drop him there so he can swap the load and drive the truck back to Atlanta. We can't leave here until the last driver finish loading which will be after 9, so no telling when I'll get home.'
What a long night. I didn't sleep a moment.
Around dawn she arrived home, in soiled white denim jeans and a t-shirt. Not what she had left in.
'Where did those clothes come from,' I asked bruskly .
'They're Donna's...I couldn't help Mark swap the load in a dress,' she replied indignantly. 'You know she's closer than here to my work and her house is on the way to Unadilla, too.' The logic was faultless. Perhaps everything was exactly as she said. There was still hope. 'Anyway, I have to get a shower and go back to work now.'
'WHAT!?! NO WAY!!' I cried. 'You haven't even slept!'
'I slept about three hours going to Unadilla and anyway, I'll get home early tonight,' she replied.
'Well, how about some attention before you go back to Atlanta? We haven't had sex in at least two weeks!' I'm sure that I sounded pathetic.
'OK, but you need to be quick, so I can get in the shower and go.' It was a relief to say the least. Finally, some long awaited intimacy.
I stripped quickly from the underwear in which I had slept and pawed at her clothes in an effort to help her quickly undress. Once I had her on the bed, I moved down to eat her pussy since the lack of foreplay might make for an uncomfortable entry.
'No, don't do that,' she said. I was taken aback for a moment. That was always something she enjoyed and had never refused. 'I haven't had a shower since yesterday.' Again, I accepted the logic. A man can, after all, convince himself of anything if he wants to.
I positioned myself at her opening and, prepared for a bit of work, pushed slowly to enter her. I needn't have worried: She was as loose and wet as a $2 whore. I've read that a woman will quickly return to her normal size after sex, regardless of the size of her partner. Since that day, I have totally disregarded that myth.
'DAY-UM!' I mumbled as I reached balls deep.
'What's wrong?' she asked defensively.
'Nothing,' I lied. Never in my life had a felt a pussy so well used. I finished my business quickly. She was totally detached during the sex and when I finished, off she went to the shower.
I didn't have to go to work until later, so after she left I went through her laundry. The crotch of her panties were full of cum. She must have wiped many times, but there was just too much to prevent some from leaking out. I was sick.
Later that day when she came home, we argued about her job and whether she was in love with her boss.
'You're crazy,' she said, 'he's married and I am too!'
'Then why were you gone all night and come home with your pussy as loose as if you'd been in a gangbang?'
'I've always been loose for you,' she spat back, 'get over it.'
Later that week she told me that she needed some time by herself, to think. So on that Friday night she packed an overnight bag and left.
When she got home Saturday morning I asked where she had gone and what she had done.
'I met with Kay from the office. She's going through a divorce and we ate, drank and hung out.'
'Whatever you say, but I don't believe a word of it,' I said flatly.
She wouldn't even look at me. Later, she had to 'call the office.'
I suppose that she realized that the cat was out of the bag and later that week, she moved out, going to live with her sister and leaving our daughter with me. It was a difficult time.
But eventually, I surmised, the wife of her boss became aware of the affair and he broke it off. The company's Atlanta branch never made money and closed. She came home, tail between her legs, maintaining that she had never been unfaithful.
After that things slowly went somewhat back to normal. Then one night she turned to me and said, 'I slept with another man.'
