My wife is stunningly beautiful. She has high cheek bones, piercing blue eyes, and a full, pouty lips that look like they were made for sucking cock; a face that could launch a thousand ships. She is tall and slender with firm enhanced breasts that make her look fantastic in the tight-fitting clothes. I had always felt lucky that she married me because, while I'm not bad looking, she is in a different league. When we are out together, I often catch men staring at her.
Soon after we were married, it became apparent that she wasn't as interested in sex with me as I was with her, and it became a struggle to get her to have sex more than once a week. When she wants to, she gives fantastic head, but my blow jobs were seemingly limited to times when I did something that especially pleased her, as a form of thanks, such as when I bought her jewelry or other expensive gifts. During the week, she would often stay late at work and claim she was too tired to have sex when she got home, but most Friday nights, she would have what she called a "girls' night out", which she said helped her to unwind from her hard week at the office. She would tell me not to wait up for her, but I didn't mind, because I knew that on those nights, she would come home tipsy, and I would get lucky. Invariably, when she finally got home, she would climb in bed naked and then wake me by grinding her pussy against my thigh while kissing my neck. She would whisper in my ear, "Baby, I'm horny. I want you to eat me," and I would go down on her, reveling in her wetness. I would lick and tongue fuck her until she was ready to explode. Then she would grab my hair and fuck my face until she loudly came all over it. Only then would she let me fuck her. I was usually so excited that I would come in a matter of a few minutes and after cumming, I would be so thoroughly spent that I would usually fall back to sleep within minutes.
We had been married for a little more than 5 years before I figured out that she was cheating on me. One Saturday, I was going through the laundry looking for a receipt that I had left in a pair of pants when I noticed a pair of pretty lace panties that I had given to my wife a couple of years before, but that I had never seen her wear for me. Looking at them closer, I noticed that the crotch contained a large white crusty patch of what was obviously dried cum. Digging further through the laundry basket, I found a second pair of sexy French lingerie in a similar defiled condition. She had not recently worn those panties for me either. I knew then that she was fucking someone else.
How could I have been so naïve? I thought of all those nights that she claimed to be working late, or that she was stopping off on the way home to have a drink with some co-workers, and, of course, all those Friday girls' nights out. The girls' nights out where she would tell me not to wait up for her, but that I looked forward to, because I knew that I would get lucky when she finally got home.
I confronted her with the evidence and demanded an explanation. At first, she tried to deny it, but I begged her to just tell me the truth. So, she did. She told me that she had always been wild, starting in high school when she was a cheerleader who was known to be an easy lay to the jocks and then in college as a sorority girl who had a similar reputation with the fraternity boys. Her promiscuity continued after college, but shortly before meeting me she had resolved to settle down. She told me that when she met me, I seemed like the perfect guy to marry. I was kind, considerate, intelligent, funny, financially stable, and faithful; in other words, everything that most women would want in a husband. She had resolved not to jump into bed with me on the first date like she usually did with men she dated, and had, in fact, made me wait six weeks before she had sex with me.
