This relatively short story is inspired by an article that I read on, you guessed it, the internet. People seem determined to share the most intimate of their personal lives with others on the internet. It does provide a degree of anonymity so that they can tell the story that they feel compelled to spill. This story is a bit of a sad story since it involves what was once a nice family with a good future. Then it was gripped with a need on the part of the wife to experiment to meet her desire to satisfy a fetish that she developed. It led to the end of the family.
I hope that some of you enjoy this story. Like I said, it's based on partial truth but has been embellished to make it a better read. If I have committed the crime of recycling names, too bad.
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Where the heck is that woman? I thought she was getting the kids ready for school today. Shit, the kids aren't up yet, fed, dressed, ready for school and I have to go. "Emma!! Where are you?" No answer. Cripes, she's not here. I went up to her bedroom and sure enough the room was empty. She hadn't come home. Again. Fuck! This shit has to stop.
So, you're asking yourself, 'what's going on?' Where the hell is the mother? Why doesn't the father know where she is? Why did she not come home? That, and lots of other questions, I suppose. I have questions too. Like, 'how the fuck did my life become this?' You see, the answer is not simple and straightforward. It happened over a period of about two years and now my life and our marriage, has become a shit-show. One that I have to quickly get fixed. I have to fix this for the benefit of my daughters. I have twin girls, aged six. They are in Grade 1 at school. They are blond-haired cuties that are my world.
The mother of those twin cuties used to be my world. Used to be. Now, not as much. She has other priorities. She has a boyfriend, now. She still thinks that she's my wife and still calls this house, her home. She spends little time here. Last week she spent two nights here. When she is here she sleeps in another bedroom now. I don't want her in the same bed with me, if I can avoid it. I can't look at her anymore. Not since her belly is almost nine months pregnant. Her boyfriend is the father of the baby she is carrying. She's very proud of that fact.
Emma works as a legal secretary for a large law firm. One of the lawyers at the firm, Gerald Evans, is her boyfriend and the father of the baby that she is carrying. Evans is very successful, makes a shit-ton of money and has a wife and three kids of his own.
Me, I'm John Stewart. I'm 32 years old and I'm a chartered accountant. I do mostly corporate audits and find places where companies can make improvements to how they do business in order to be more profitable. In reality I do a lot of work to find ways for companies to avoid paying taxes. Most companies would rather spend $2 to avoid having to pay the government $1 in taxes. It's work that, to most, is mind numbingly boring, but to my organized mind it's interesting. And I get paid well. Very well. Last year I made just over $150, 000, and I usually get a 20% bonus on top of that.
Emma is also well paid as a legal secretary and pulls in almost $70,000 a year. Her bonus is not as much but not bad all the same.
We live in a nice three bedroom, three bathroom house in the burbs with a small in-ground pool in the backyard. The mortgage is very manageable and will be paid off in about six years. I drive a Subaru Outback station wagon and Emma has a VW Passat that I bought used for her three years ago.
We live, or lived, a good life. That was until about two years ago. Now. Well, how do I describe our life? My life is...different.
My wife is not really my wife anymore. She spends most of her time outside of work at the apartment that her lover owns. She started seeing Evans about two years ago. At first it was spending extra hours at work, getting home late in the day. Then it was evening work. Then it was weekend work. Then it was trips away to meet 'clients.' Then it got obvious.
Then she just went out and told me not to wait up. Then she started spending all night out.
I knew a long time ago that she was having an affair with Evans. She hid it poorly.
I went to a divorce lawyer for some advice. The advice I got wasn't really advice. It was more a warning. That I would get royally screwed over by the courts. That Emma would likely get custody of the girls, and because of that the house. I would pay big to support everyone for many years to come. That and Emma would get to fuck around as much as she wanted to. I was a sucker, a chump. She screws around, and I pay for it. How fair is that? The courts don't give a fuck about fairness. They follow the law which says to divide things 50-50 unless there are kids and then give the bulk of all family assets to the custodial parent. Just because the custodial parent was the one that caused the marriage breakdown matters not one bit. Judges want to see cases get rubber-stamped and on to the next boring case.
So, I asked my lawyer, 'how do I come out of this on top?' Well, seems that there was no coming out of it on top. There was a only coming out of it mildly singed. Slightly burned as it were. Fuck! She was clear that the best plan was to do nothing and pretend that my loving wife was a loving wife. Right, like I was going to do that.
When I left the lawyers office I was a bit numb. What the fuck am I going to do? So, I went back to work and sat in my office for the rest of the day, in a daze. I went home that night to be greeted by Emma, who was making dinner, as if everything in her world was just fine. As if she was her former loving mother and wife self. I was greeted at the door with a kiss on the lips and the smell of food in the kitchen. The girls were working on a puzzle on the dining room table. Emma actually poured me a glass of wine and handed it to me. What the fuck!
This had to be a communist plot on her part. Sure enough. After supper and when the girls were in bed she said "Honey, we need to have a talk."
Seems that the talk was to tell me that she was pregnant by her lover, Evans. She was in love with him and was going to have his baby. "Are you leaving me?" I said, with a hopeful, but cautious note.
"Of course not Honey, I'm your wife. I love you very much. We have a family, and now it's going to get bigger."
Shit. I was really hoping that the cheating skank was going to move out and go live with lover-boy.
"So, Just how do you propose to deal with this baby?"
"Well, the same as how we dealt with when I was pregnant with the girls, of course." The look on her face said that she thought my question odd.
I was still very mystified, "Hmm, so, let me get this straight. You're pregnant by another man and plan to have his baby and figure that this child will happily become part of our family? Have I got that right so far?"
"Well of course, Honey. Why wouldn't this child be part of our family?"
How stupid did this woman think I was? Clearly, she figured that I was going to roll over and accept this child as my own. Well, that wasn't gonna happen. No fucking way.