Wife Wants Experiences

Mom

I was attacked as soon as I walked into my mother's kitchen. "What kind of man are you," my mother demanded. "Jean said you left her last night without even trying or attempting to fight for her. We didn't raise you like that."

My mother stood with her hands on her hips, giving me the stink eye. I suppose that I should have expected that. She loved Jean like the daughter she never had. Of course, every time she says that, my sister Sheila gets up and leaves the room. She and my mother have been at odds since Sheila hit puberty and stopped letting her mother dress her like a baby doll. In the ensuing 16 years my lovely sister has tried every fashion that seemed designed to set my mother off: punk, goth and torn clothes fashions I don't even think have names.

"Did she tell you why I left?" I wondered what story Jean might have fed my mom.

"Yes, she did. She said she feels like life is passing her by, that she needs more experiences while she's young, before kids and life ties her down. I understand that -- I could have had a real career if your father hadn't swept me off my feet and kept me barefoot and pregnant." I could see mom starting to tear up.

"Mom, you've had two kids -- that's not exactly being kept barefoot and pregnant, especially since your youngest is 28 and has been out of the house for 10 years. You could have had a career more than two decades ago." I chastised my mother. She is one of those that always thinks she could have done great things, if only she had had the chance. Sheila and I used to joke that talent might have been handy to have, as well. But she was a great mother. "Besides, did she tell you the experiences she wanted was other men's cocks?"

My mother looked shocked, but apparently not at Jean's desires. "You don't have to be crude, Scott. Show some respect and civility."

Now I was shocked. "Mom, are you so desperate for grandkids that you don't care who Jean screws, as long as she gets pregnant?"

"No, of course not. But sometimes sex is just sex, and you don't throw away five years of a good marriage without fighting for it." That was accompanied by more stink eye from Mom.

I think at this point, my jaw hit the ground. I couldn't believe she had just said that. "So, if Dad needed more experiences, you'd be okay with that?"

"Oh, grow up Scott. Do you think your father has been faithful for 35 years? With being stationed overseas when he was in the service, and all the traveling he's done for the company since he retired from the military? Get real. And do you think I've always sat here on my hands, waiting for his return? Life's too short. Both he and I have tried to enjoy life as it came, and our marriage has been healthier for it."

I plopped down on a kitchen chair. I was flummoxed. These were my parents? I really didn't know them.

"You get back home and fight for your wife," my mother continued. "She loves you and you know it. You can work through this."

I sat quietly for a moment, processing my thoughts. Then I got up and put my arms around my mother, hugging her.

"No, mom, I can't. We're done. Whatever you and dad have may work for you, but to me having a wife slutting around isn't a marriage. Nor would it be a marriage if I were to run around with other women. That's not what I got married for."

I kissed her forehead. "I'll try not to judge you and Dad, your life and marriage is yours and seems to work for you. But I've got to tell you it saddens me to learn that your marriage vows are so flexible and open to situational ethics and convenience. But it's not for me."

My mother started weeping, either from frustration at my opposition or from sadness at the destruction of my marriage. Or maybe for the loss of my good opinion of my parents. "But you and Jean are so happy and perfect for one another, how can you let that die?"

"I haven't. Jean has. I had expectations of what marriage should be, which we talked about before getting hitched. Jean claimed the same expectations, but now claims that my expecting her faithfulness forced her into agreeing with me for fear of losing me. Now five years later she thinks I should be committed enough to accept her slutty desires? To save what? A marriage apparently built on lies, sustained by lies and with a future that looks to be full of more lies?"

"But she loves you, Scottie. This doesn't change that. You can make this work. Just give the girl a little leeway and things will go back to normal. You'll see." Mom patted my chest in emphasis.

"Mom, you and Jean think this is all about her love for me. You forget that she's killed my love for her. I have no desire or need to 'save' our marriage. It's done. If you want me in your life, you'll recognize that. If you keep pushing Jean on me, or have her around when I'm here, then we'll be done. Do you understand me? Done, Mom, like my marriage is done."

She looked at me wide eyed. "When did you become so rigid? You've always been so easygoing and good natured. Now you just sound angry and self-righteous."

"I am angry. Thank you for finally recognizing that. My wife has told me her desire is to be a slut and me a cuckold. Why shouldn't I be angry? And self-righteous? You think my belief in my vows and Jean's vows is an unfounded certainty? You think because they mean nothing to her, and apparently less to you and Dad, that I shouldn't believe that they have meaning to me?"

I could feel my mouth forming a sneer, although I didn't want to sneer at my mother. "And I'm damned easygoing with things that are inconsequential or have no meaning to me, but why the hell would I be easygoing about my life, my future and my happiness? I'll be damned if I'll be easy going about that!"

I realized that I was now shouting at the top of my voice. My anger had me screaming in my mother's face. Her hands flew up to cover her mouth as her eyes widened and showed real fear.

I stepped back and rubbed my face, then clasped my hands together, as if in prayer. "I've got to go, Mom. I'll call you. Don't call me."

As I drove away, tears poured down my face. I couldn't breathe, trying to wrap my head around it all. Jean's desired infidelity, my mom's revelations of my dad's faithlessness and her, what? Sluttiness? I couldn't easily think of my mother as a slut, but she admitted, practically bragged about sex outside of marriage. Who were these people? I thought I got my values from them? Obviously not.

Sheila:

Trying to wrap my head around the ever-expanding collapse of reality as I knew it, I headed over to my sister Sheila's. Although she was 3 years my junior, from childhood she had a natural cynicism and dry humor that always helped me figure out any emotional turmoil. Plus, she was close to Jean, although they hadn't been that close, lately. I was surprised that that fact was just dawning on me.

When she answered her door, Sheila took one look at me and asked who had pissed on my rainbow. I told her and she didn't look shocked at all. She just nodded her head and waved me into her house.

"It's that Monica bitch," she said. "I tried to warn Jean about her, but she wouldn't listen. She just shut me out."

"Yeah. Jean told me that Monica assured her fucking other guys would somehow help our marriage."

"Help it down, into the ground," commented Sheila. "You remember Audrey Brier? My friend from the gym? Monica got into her ear and had her in a gangbang. Turns out Monica is bi, and wants friends to go party with. I thought Jean was too smart for that, but apparently, I was wrong. Bro, I sorry I didn't come to you when I found out about Monica. I just didn't think Jean would fall for that crap."

"What happened with Audrey?"

"She and her husband are moving away, to avoid Monica. But it was a near thing. They almost got divorced." Sheila went to the fridge and grabbed a couple of beers. "Sit -- I'll tell you the story."

"Monica can be very nice and charming. She talks you into going out for a Girl's Night, just dancing and having some laughs. I went a couple of times and had fun. But I noticed that the same guys were there each time, and they gave off a real creepy vibe. My skin crawled when one of them, Buckie was his name if you can believe a grown man called 'Buckie", touched me while dancing. I never went back after I realized they were a permanent part of Girls Night. Plus, I don't think as a single girl I was one of Monica's targets."

"Audrey told me that at first the girls' nights were fun, but after a while Buckie and his friends became more aggressive. She shut them down each time, but then one night the alcohol seemed to hit her faster, and she woke up in a hotel room, naked and abused. Abused everywhere. Monica was there, comforting her. The comforting included assurances that the film from the previous night's adventure needn't go public."

Sheila took a big draw on her beer. "They'd made a DVD of the action, which Audrey said had her with her face buried in Monica's crotch while Buckie and his friends plowed her." She paused. "Audrey showed me the DVD to see if there was anything legal that could be done. Scott, I don't think she was conscious in the clip I saw. There was some movement, but I think that was from Buckie ramming her doggie style. You can't see Audrey's face -- it was pushed up into the bitch's cunt.'

"I had to tell Audrey and her husband that they could pursue action, but unless we could prove she'd been drugged, it would probably not go anywhere other than having the DVD go public. Her husband was a real sweetheart. He believed his wife -- stuck by her and changed jobs. They're moving out of state and away from Monica and her friends."

I felt a flash of white-hot anger at my sister. "You knew all that and still let Jean go out on these girl nights, maybe get drugged..." Again, I was screaming at a family member.

Sheila started weeping, tears flowing down her face. "NO, BRO! I would never do that. I only found out about the gangbang and the drugs this week, when Audrey told me she was moving, and why. I was going to tell Jean all about it, and you all about it, but I wanted to talk to Jean first. And she's been ghosting me since I tried to warn her about how creepy Monica and Buckie were."

She looked at me sadly through tear-stained eyes. "Scottie, she wouldn't listen when I tried to talk to her about how perverted Monica and her gang were. I don't know how deep she is or was with them? What if they've already got video of her?"

I let the implications of that roll over me. Jean didn't seem stressed or put out. She appeared to be excited by the prospect of screwing other guys. Could she already be screwing Buckie? Or Monica? Or Both? I thought I knew Jean and thought I would be able to tell if something was going on. But then I never guessed the bullshit she and Monica had come up with.

Then anger took hold again. "No, Sheila, they've got no DVD of Jean, or if they do it's not one they're blackmailing her with. They don't need it. She's all on board with screwing all of them. And it doesn't matter whether she already has or not -- she wants to and you know Jean -- what she wants she thinks she's entitled to. She's going to fuck them, whatever the consequences."

"No, the only difference it makes is whether or not she's passed any diseases on to me. I'm going to get tested." I gave my sister a hug and left.

In-Law

I decided that I would go to Jean's doctor to get tested. It's petty, but I wanted her embarrassed. But the icing on the cake was, when I walked into the reception area, my mother-in-law was there, flipping through a 5-month-old PEOPLE magazine.

"SCOTTIE! What are you doing here? Are you okay? Is Jean okay?" I've never liked my mother-in-law. She's a nosey, gossipy bitch. Jean's father's not much better. They weren't crazy about me from day 1. I wasn't good enough for their daughter, she was too young to settle down, she hadn't experienced enough of life yet -- well, it seems that they were spot on about that last one.

I walked up to the receptionist, my MIL trailing behind me. Since she wasn't going to afford me any privacy, I nodded to the receptionist, but turned to face my mother as I announced in a voice meant to carry, "I'm here to get tested for any STD's that my cheating slut of a wife might have brought home from her gangbangs." Yeah, I know I had no idea whether or not Jean had or would indulge in group sex, but I thought it was a good bet and I was going for massive destruction.

I've got to hand it to the old biddy. She's not slow. She screeched and hauled off and whacked my face harder than I'd been hit, outside the service. "My daughter is not a slut! You take that back, damn you!"

I rubbed my cheek and chuckled. "Maybe you'd better talk with your daughter before you go defending her imagined purity." I turned to the receptionist. "Can I get those tests done, now please."

The poor girl just looked at me wide-eyed, nodded and scooted through the door to the doctors' offices. I'm sure the story would spread pretty quick through the place before too long.

Jean's mother sank into a chair, clutching her throat and fumbling for her phone. A nurse appeared and signaled for me to follow her. I leaned over and whispered to the bitch-in-law, "Just a juicy tale for you and your gossipy friends to sink their teeth into. Just wait till Mrs. Madronne hears about this! She'll probably have orgasms telling all your friends!" Mrs. Madronne was the biggest gossip in town and her best friend. The MIL's face was ashen white as I went to have the blood drawn.

I was back in my car pulling out of the parking lot when my phone buzzed. I saw it was Jean and let it go to voice mail. When I stopped for lunch, I played the message back.

"Scott, how dare you embarrass my mother like that. That's my doctor. How am I going to face him. God damn your fragile little ego. You're a little man, you fucking wimp. You're telling everyone that you're a cuckold? How's that good for your ego? Fuck you! Fuck you!" She hung up. I thought it was interesting that she didn't throw in any denials, just attacks on my manhood. I was beginning to really believe her infidelity was more than just a planned event.

I sent a text to my darling wife, not wanting to talk with her, ever. "Jean, you're a slut. Embrace it. That's who you've decided to be. And I'm not a cuckold. That's someone who accepts a slut for a wife. You may have noticed that that's not me. And I figured that your doctor should be aware what kind of cumdump he was dealing with during examinations. He might want to take extra precautions for his, and his staff's, safety."

"I also told the nurse that should any diseases show up, they might want to contact your lovers Monica and Buckie. I told them I wasn't sure how many other women or men you might have been gangbanging, but I was pretty sure that Monica and Buckie would turn out to be the vectors they'd need to contact for the full story."

After sending off that text, I thought I might as well make my day complete. I looked up the phone number and dialed.

"Hey, there, Mrs. Madronne. It's Scottie. I thought you'd like to know that the other day Jean asked me about opening up our marriage to her lovers, Monica and Buckie, and to their friends..."

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I know there will be complaints that Scott didn't talk to Jean and let her tell her side, complaints I don't understand. I think Jean has explained her side already. All else is sound and fury, signifying nothing. Damage control, which Scott had no desire to hear. What can of damage control can you have when your house has completely burned down? You can enjoy having the arsonist punished, nothing beyond that.