What CAN a man expect from a wife who had had sex with his best friend? What can one do, when they discover the truth and realize that everything is taken away from him?
Some may feel excited about watching a wife being fucked, used by a stranger or friend…
But what about those who don’t? What about those who had devoted almost their entire life to the family, to love and only ask for loyalty and trust from them…
What about those who lose their wife to some measly asshole, just because, oh, he was better built and thicker/longer in length inside his pants?
What happens to those men who have a cuckolding wife?
…. I didn’t want to think further. My relationship with my wife Chelsea has gone from bad to worse over the past few months. No matter what she did to win my trust or loyalty back, It was almost hard to accept her forgiveness, when those brief memories continue to replay again and again in my head.
Those words.
The moans, the screams, the smell of sex that disgusts me. . . .
Each time when I see her, I imagine her lips on Roys, her touch that is given to him willingly. . .
And frankly, why can't I just divorce that bitch and get it over with?
Cause I deeply love her. Cause I. . .
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let us say, that I hoped that maybe, just maybe, affection and care would ascend through the needs for lust, and the sins of sexual desire.
But who am I fooling? The biggest fool here is obviously myself. Can she merely say goodbye to Roy, just like that? Can she really ask me for forgiveness when she had been lying to me for all these years? I know there are places where I can't match up to. . . certain attributes or traits, but does that mean that she has the right to betray a pledged, for the sake of her own needs and desires?
And all in the end, I'm still wallowing in the aftermath left by her and Roy. Sarah is innocent, but a resulting consequence of Roy's personal involvement into my life.
Not my blood. Not my child. And does that give me, me, the right to abandon someone I have kept close to me for all these years, just because she is not my own blood?
. . . No. From another perspective, she is the one that would be injured the most if word of this leaks out. And as someone who had looked after her for all these years.
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. . someone who raised her, played with her, cried with her. . .
Sarah. . . .
. . . .
So, what to say now, after all those times during that occasion? The time that I caught Chelsea with Roy, and their affairs behind my back. .
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.
?
Each time when I see Chelsea, I could see the disgusting affair continuing in her eyes, those look of lust, compassion, whenever she averts her gaze and especially when Roy is nearby at work. Even when I'm at home, I can tell how they're secretly meeting each other elsewhere, somewhere. . . her notes that she's shopping, her false flattery to win over my trust again. . . . the faint smell of masculine oder when she comes back late at night. . . .
The false smile, the fluttery looks from Chelsea when she's alone, near the phone. .
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.
…And Roy’s snobbish attitude, by his gloating persona. I really wanted to hurt him. Bad. Yet, if word got out about this. . . especially to those under my supervision, to those that I lead in my R&D Division. . . . .
Laughing stock. That is what I would be. In this world, there is no one that would give sympathy for those who have fell, or those who have been backstabbed.
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In this world and society, there is only criticism. . . is it not?
In a viewpoint, Roy had control over me because of my wife.
He had fucked her.
He had used her.
And she loved it. Every damn, single second.
And I didn't do anything about it.
I was sick of it.
I am tired of it.
Can someone really understand the torments one has to go through, to wait for a miracle from a false salvation?
No one but the person experiencing it.
Maybe it was this type of conceptual thought that I loathe. . .
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that I loathed so deeply. . . .
Maybe. . . because I was so bitter inside from that moral thought that I didn’t notice Sarah coming up to me one day when I got home late at night. The weather was terrible, especially at winter time. Even though I personally like the season of winter…believe me. Driving a car on frozen ice is not a fun thing to experience.
I had parked the car in front of the garage, taking my time getting the keys out. Turning off the engine, I looked through the windows at my once home. My home now has become a desolate, alienated place to me. My home was the couch in my office, a barren room fitted with only a table, a desk with PC, and a small window overlooking the parking lot in my company.
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I didn’t notice Sarah in her sweater and jacket walking up to the car, a frown on her face. Obviously something had happened between her and my wife, but I didn’t care anymore about what my wife did.
Let her ruin herself in the end.
Still lost in bitterness, I jumped slightly at the sudden knock at the car’s window.
Was I that lost in my daydreaming? Jeez….
Shaking myself up, I turned my head and looked in mute wonder at Sarah, leaning slightly forward with her face close to the window, her breath fogging up the outside exterior glass. Her eyes locked contact with mine, and both of her hands were rubbing each other in front of her chest, trying to keep warm.
Innocent. That’s the only way to describe Sarah’s actions.
“Dad…I need to talk to you. ” She began in a hesitant voice as I began to get out of the car. Her eyes were solemn, uncertain in question. I blinked, not knowing what’s going on. Did Chelsea tell Sarah about me not being her father? Did Sarah know? Did Sarah wanted to say that he’ll stay with Roy, her true father and move in a new family with her mother, leaving me?
What was it? And finally…the biggest question.
Do I want to know?
“Can I….
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talk to you alone about it?” She questioned, motioning towards home.
“It’s about mom, dad. ”
Great. Just great.
"And you two. "
Ah?
“What about it?” I responded.
"It's just. . . . "
By this time, I've reluctantly opened the door to the house and moved in, with Sarah following close by. Locking the door afterwards, I repeated her question.
"It's just. . .
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. ?"
"Dad. . . you and mom have been acting strange recently. . . " She murmured, while we both went up to her room for some private talks. Chelsea evidently wasn't at home, and from past logic, I was fairly certain that she won't arrive back until tomorrow, from the complaints I've heard from Sarah a few weeks ago.
She sat down on her bed, while I sat next to her, giving a distant gaze toward a small picture of me, her, and my wife down in the beach a year ago. . . .
And we were all so happy then. .
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. .
"You know?" Sarah continued, hands pressed on her laps while she murmured. "The house is so quiet lately. . . . you at work, and mom being gone for so long. . .
It's really lonely. . . . everytime when I come back from school, and see that the house is so.
. . " Her voice trailed off.
"Sarah. . . . I. . . "
. . . Okay, so I was neglecting my daugh - Sarah -- for some weeks. .
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. and it was true that I was using my own work to distract myself away from the things that were plaguing me. . but--
"What happened, Dad. . ? We were all so cheerful and happy a few weeks ago. . . . . what happened. . . ?"
Are those tears I see near Sarah's eyes, or is her involuntary shudder near the shoulders. .
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. . . . ?
She was rubbing her eyes distractedly, a little curling up downwards as she gave some small sniffs, clearly results of. . . .
And me, looking from such a position. . . what can I do, but to hold her and hug her close, as she sheds some tears on my shoulder. . . ?
I tried to comfort her, but seeing her in such a frail state, what can I do?
What can I do.
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. . ?
"Sarah. . . . shh. . . it's all right. It's all right. . . don't cry. .
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. . "
"Dad. . . . I feel like you and mom are separating. . . . . is that why its so lonely. . . ? Dad.
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. . . "
"No! No. . . we're not separating. . . . "
Like hell it isn't, but at an age like her, sometimes blocking the truth helps more than to expose it directly.
"Shh. . . .
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it's okay. . . . I'm here. It's okay. . . " I whispered, nuzzling my head against her forehead a little bit. Unknown to me, the close contact of my hug over her body is slightly improper, if not indirectly arousing to some extent. I've been neglecting my own sexual drives for some weeks, determined not to fall under the same category or commit the same act that my wife had done with Roy. . . and with all that sexual drive on hold, coming into contact with Sarah is awakening my libido from the closeness of our touch.
Maybe the contact was one out of compassion.
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Or is it because that she's sad, that I feel this pain, this need to stay close to her?
Whatever the case, my logical thoughts were being clouded. Her tearful eyes were still being shed, and without exactly realizing what I have done --
I kissed her.
On the lips.
Her body stiffened in slight surprise, but I had my eyes closed. It was a light kiss. . nothing too obscene nor harsh, and after a few seconds, I felt her push back, her lips touching mine, brushing against mine. . . .
Just a kiss.
This is probably the time that I momentarily lost my train of thought, and that I committed the. . . .
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the. . . .
To be continued --
. . . . . . . . . . .
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. . . . . . . . . . . .
Okay, so I intentionally left the next section out (ergo, the sexual actions out) and depending on the comments, I'll continue where I left off later.
So, comments, anyone? Part three will come up soon!
.
