Many thanks to those who offered comments and constructive criticism on my previous stories.
For those who want to say this or that would never happen, remember this is my universe, a place where nearly anything can, and often does, happen.
At least on paper...
Please refer to my profile for more on my personal policy regarding comments, feedback, follows, etc.
And please remember, this is a work of fiction, not a docu-drama...
*
I laid in bed next to Rhonda, my wife of five years, and tried to process what it was she just told me. We had just finished a rousing bout of sex and were cuddling in the afterglow when she hit me with it.
"Jimmy," she said. That was me, of course -- Jim Carson, Jimmy to my friends. "What do you think about trying something different?"
"Like what," I asked. We often tried new and different things to spice up our sex life, so this wasn't too unusual. But what came next threw me for a loop.
"Well," she began, nervously, "how would you feel about being my cuckold?" What the hell was this all about, I asked myself. Of course I knew what the term meant, but I wanted to hear what she thought it meant.
"What?" I asked. "What's that?"
"It's where you watch me have sex with another man," she said.
"Not no, but hell no," I said emphatically.
"Why not?" she asked. "Don't you think it would be fun?"
"It might be fun for you, but not for me," I said. "Where did you get such a crazy idea from?"
"I've seen it in some of those stories online," she said. "And Renee, my friend from work, says it's a blast."
"You mean, the woman who's now on her third husband?" I asked. "That Renee?"
"She says that it's done wonders for her marriage and her husband loves it," she said.
"So what are you telling me? Is it that I just don't ring your chimes anymore, or that you want some extra dick on the side?" I asked. "If that's the case, tell me now so we can get a divorce."
"Nothing like that," she said. "And I don't want a divorce. You're the best lover a girl could want."
"Then there's no need to bring anyone else in, is there?" I asked.
"Just think about it, okay?" she asked. "Please?" There was absolutely no way in hell I was going to go for something like this, and Rhonda knew it. But I also knew her. Once she got something in her head, it was almost impossible for her to let go of it or admit she was wrong. I decided to play it cool for a while and find out what was really going on.
And what was it with these stories she talked about? Sure, we liked to read stories on the Internet sometimes or watch a little porn to liven up the evening, but we also knew all that stuff wasn't real. I decided to check into this a bit as well.
"I'll think about it," I told her, lying through my teeth. "But don't push me, okay?"
"I won't, I promise," she said. Right, I thought to myself. We kissed each other and settled in for the night.
Try as I might, I had a very difficult time sleeping. I thought back over our marriage. I met Rhonda after I returned from my four-year tour in the Air Force. During my service, I attended college part-time and had finished my two-year networking degree before my discharge. I went to work for my father's IT consulting firm and Rhonda worked at an insurance firm that hired us to upgrade their servers.
At the time, she worked in the front office and was our company's "go-to" person. She's the one who acted as a "buffer" between me and my crew and her company's management. If we needed access to something, she was the one who provided it and escorted us to where we needed to be.
I was finishing up late one afternoon, when she poked her head into the server room and informed me she was heading out for the day. Her and a couple of friends were going to grab some drinks, so she asked if I wanted to join her. It sounded like a good idea at the time, so I went.
We had a great time, sharing stories and dancing and ended up dating for several months. We fell in love and got married a few months later. The next five years were terrific for us. By now, I was a senior engineer in my father's company and she was in line to become the next office manager. We held off having children until we were in better shape, financially.
I had thought about mentioning that to Rhonda, but decided to hold off when she laid this on me. I eventually fell asleep, but ended up tossing and turning most of the night.
The next day started like any other. I woke up, took a shower and shaved as Rhonda went downstairs to make breakfast. I went downstairs and was greeted with the smell of bacon and coffee. As I walked into the kitchen, Rhonda had placed a nice plate of bacon and eggs on the table for each of us. I grabbed a cup of coffee and we ate breakfast as normal. Rhonda had the good sense not to mention the issue, but it nagged at me nevertheless.
I finished my work early in the day, but my head hurt from all the bullshit Rhonda had laid on me. Nothing seemed to help, not even the two ibuprofen tablets I took that morning. I was rubbing my temples, trying to ease the pain when my father walked past my office.
"You okay, Jimbo?" he asked, standing in the doorway. "Jimbo" was my dad's nickname for me, and he was the only one I allowed to call me that.
"Got a massive headache," I said. He walked in and closed the door.
"Everything alright, son?" he asked. I shrugged my shoulders. "Things okay between you and Rhonda?" I shook my head.
"I don't know, dad," I said.
"What do you mean?" he asked. He listened quietly as I told him about our conversation. He waited until I finished before speaking.
"You need to nip this thing in the bud before it gets out of hand," he said. He was right and I knew it, but I just didn't know where, exactly, to start. "Look, you're all caught up so why don't you take the rest of the day off," he said. "Don't do anything rash. Take some time and see what you can find out about all this. If you need some help or need someone to talk to, I'll be here for you, okay?"
"Thanks, dad," I said. "I just might take you up on that offer." I knew he had it rough when he and Mom divorced eight years ago when I was in the service. He never talked about it, and no one ever pushed the subject. All I know is that it changed him dramatically. "Is this what you went through with Mom?" I asked.
"Not exactly," he said. "Why don't you come by the house sometime this week and we'll talk, okay? Tell Rhonda I need your help fixing the lawnmower or something." I laughed. Dad was one of the smartest people I knew, so the idea that he would need my help fixing anything was far-fetched.
"Sure, Dad, that sounds good," I said. "And thanks."
"You're welcome," he said, smiling. "Now go, get on out of here. You're no good to me with a headache." I left and went home, halfway expecting to see a strange car in the driveway. Fortunately, there wasn't, so I pulled into the garage and went into the house.
I took another ibuprofen for my headache and went into the den, where we kept our computer. I needed to find out what Rhonda had been up to, and I figured this would be the best place to start.
I opened her web email client and scanned through the messages. Most of it was spam, but there were a few emails from Rhonda.
Most of the email exchanges were, at least to me, mindless drivel. Talk about the latest chick flicks or the latest office gossip -- that kind of thing. Nothing to get worried about. But one email thread concerned me.
"So have you talked to Jimmy yet?" Renee asked.
"Not yet," Rhonda said in response.
"Why not, girl friend?" Renee asked.
