Time for a Trade-In

A quickie. 750 words. No graphic sex, co car chases, no gun fights.

*******

They were going at it hot and heavy when I walked into the house. The bedroom door was open, so I could hear the bed thump the wall as whoever-he-was pumped in and out of my wife. There was no mistaking it. The moans, squeals, and words of encouragement were loud and clear.

I went into the kitchen and grabbed a beer, then sat down in my recliner to watch the end of the Cubs game. Shit! They were losing again. So, what's new? A shriek from the bedroom reminded me of one thing that was new. Well, new as far as I knew.

I had arrived home at the usual time after work, so the discovery had been intentional. Talk about delivering a message!

The Cubs were down to their last strike. I had to laugh - I heard the fucker in my bedroom grunt as he came into my wife just as the umpire rang up the batter with a called strike three. Game over.

A couple of commercials later the sated couple came out of the bedroom, naked, with big grins. Maggie tried to look startled when she saw me sitting there, but she wasn't a very good actress and I already knew it was an ambush.

"Paul, you are home," she managed to get out before the asshole pinched her butt cheek and made her jump. "I'm sorry you had to catch us like this. It isn't what it looks like. It was only sex. This is the first time. I'm sure we can get past this. I just had to find out what sex with another man would be like. Ouch! (Her lover had pinched her left tit, grinning.) It doesn't mean a thing."

Her words faded and her voice dropped off as she realized that I was not mad, was not upset, was not crying. I wasn't really even paying attention. This pissed her off.

"What the hell, Paul?" she yelled. "I have just finished fucking this man in your bed. I'm standing here naked with another man's cum dripping from my pussy, and he's standing here dick-out with a shit-eating grin on his face, and you don't seem to care."

"Well, darlin', If you've run out of cliches, it's my turn to talk. I'm a car salesman, so I tend to see things through a car salesman's eyes. Love and marriage are kinda like buying a new car. At first it's all shiny and has that new car smell, and you can't wait to drive it around and show all your friends.

"Girlfriends and wives are the same way at first - she's young and pretty and she's all smiley and fresh, and you can't wait to introduce her to all your friends. Just like you make up excuses to drive your new car, you want to spend all your time with your wife. Just like you want to wash your car, you want to fuck your wife three times a day. And it's just the same for her with him. He's the handsome young stud with the bright future.

"But after a while your car gets a couple dings in the doors from careless clowns in parking lots, and the tires wear down a bit, and the windshield wipers get streaky, and kids track mud onto the floor mats and drip chocolate shakes onto the leather seats, and you come to realize it's just an old car.

"Spouses are the same way. Her boobs start to sag, he snores at night and comes home smelling like beer. You've heard all of each other's stories, and the little quirks you used to think were cute are now just annoying.

"So, there comes a time when it's time to trade that car you loved for a shiny new one. And I guess we've reached the time to trade in the old partner and shop for a replacement. Sometimes if the car has been very special, you feel a pang when you leave it on the used car lot, but the excitement of a new car soon erases that. Moving on is natural. So there's that.

"And then, too, there's the fact that I have no interest in staying married to a woman who would fuck a worthless loser like Kenny Payne, there. My God, what a fucking disappointment. I thought I had picked a better model car - um - wife."

He pulled out his phone. "Janie - Ready to take a test drive?"