A Good Wife Shouldn't Cheat

"Not so as I could tell. There's only three of them anyway, and two are fresh out of college. I don't advertise anymore. Nothing sexy out of the house. That got me in enough trouble already," I reminded him.

"Good. We can wait for you to get home before you wear any of your special outfits again," Marty said. "Wanna give me a little suck?"

"Again?" I laughed.

"If you don't mind."

I didn't. Not for my husband. It took a lot of work, but I got him up, and the loving was sweet and romantic. He never even finished, and neither off us got off, but sometimes that doesn't matter. Just being loved was more than enough.

~ * ~ * ~

I lived for those weekends. I thought about it constantly before he arrived. I went out and bought a few things I knew he'd like, sexy panties, a garter belt and stockings. A short dress, that had my mother raising her eyebrows when I put it on. I was feeling self-conscious about my belly. It was really starting to show, but I hoped the leg show would put Marty in a good mood.

He arrived, and took me straight to my room. He was very appreciative of my new outfit, and when I apologized for spending money we could hardly afford, he told me he never minded my buying sexy stuff. He didn't even remove the dress, just flipping up the back, pulling the gusset of my panties aside, and throwing me a hard fast fuck. God, that was delicious!

I was a little embarrassed to go down and chat with the parents, his hot cum soaking my panties through, and leaving a wet spot on the back of my dress. He took me out that night, no parents this time, and we went dancing after dinner. I made sure to give him a few glimpses of the top of my stockings and it was like old times.

I admit, normally when I go out, I get hit on, but I guess the belly was a little off-putting. I only had a few men ask me to dance, and I only accepted with one of them. He was a nice guy, telling me how beautiful I was, and how my pregnancy made me glow. He even put his hand on my belly, telling me what a lucky man my husband was, and wishing me a safe pregnancy and a healthy baby.

Marty was drinking, not too much, but enough to be getting frisky. I needed the attention, and danced on his fingers in the dark of our booth, coming for him twice that night. I was stone sober of course.

"I need you honey," he whispered, his hand back in my panties, making me moan.

"I'm yours, Marty. Anytime, anywhere. Let's go home so I can ravish you."

He didn't put up a fight, and he was sober enough to handle giving me what I needed twice, making me scream into my pillow.

I hated being away from the kids, and four weeks without sex was rough, but the moments we had together were amazing. My fears were easing. My man loved me, and wanted me. Five more months and my nightmare would be over, my penance paid.

In the early dawn hours I had to get up to pee. I couldn't resist sucking him back to life. I rode him while he was barely awake, and opened up to him gleefully when he went back for seconds before the alarm went off. Life wasn't perfect, but moments of it were, and that was one.

~ * ~ * ~

I was heartbroken, nervous and upset.

I hadn't even had a chance to hold the baby. They said it was best that way. They didn't want me bonding with it, but hell, I'd carried it for nine months. Of course there was some bonding.

I knew the adoptive parents were good people. They'd been very generous, and picked up all our bills that weren't covered by insurance. They had good jobs, and were young. They seemed very much in love, and I had no doubt they'd be good parents. They were outside when the baby was born, and they both came in to thank me afterwards, in tears, telling me it the most beautiful baby boy they'd ever seen. They were going to call him Stephen.

My Marty wasn't there. He said he couldn't stand the thought of seeing the bastard's baby. I guess he still was a little angry. He had promised to come by the next day while I was in recovery, and he'd stay to take me back to my parents until I was healthy enough for the long drive home.

I was anxious to see him. It had been two months since his last visit. They'd been stretching out longer and longer in between, and the last two times we hadn't made love. He'd let me suck him off the previous time, but we were almost like strangers when he'd stayed eight weeks earlier. I knew what it was. He hated that baby. He refused to touch my belly, and as it got bigger and bigger I could feel the tension growing between us.

I thought it was wrong. None of this was the baby's fault. He had done nothing wrong. I was doing a good thing, and my child was going to have a good life with two very loving, well-off parents. I guess Marty still didn't see it that way.

The calls had been getting shorter, and the kids skipped a lot of them. I could feel a distance growing between us, and it was tearing me up. I couldn't wait to get home.

~ * ~ * ~

When I woke in the hospital room and saw him standing over me, I couldn't help but start crying. I was an emotional mess, I know, but finally my life was going to get back to normal.

Seeing me break down, Marty took my hand. "Are you Ok? Should I call the nurse?" he asked

I shook my head. "Now that you're here, everything's going to be fine. Thank you, honey."

He nodded, and leaned over kissing the top of my my head. That's not what I wanted! I wanted him to kiss me, kiss me for real. Show me the passion I missed and needed. Everything was going to be better now!

"The Doctor says you can go home after your checkup."

"Home? With you?"

He looked uncomfortable. Was he still thinking about the baby? It was gone now. Part of my life, abandoned, for my family.

"To your parent's first, remember. Until you're better. You need some rest. We need to pack you up. We shouldn't rush this, for your sake. Your health comes first."

He was right, of course. I remembered how weak I'd been after our kids, and I'd been younger then. He pulled my things together, and left the room while I had my last checkup. I glanced around at the flowers, from Marty, from my parents, from the nice couple who now had my child. With the green light from the doctor, my husband walked beside me, holding my hand, as they rolled me out in the wheelchair. My parents were waiting for me, and I got big hugs from them. They'd been so good, helping me, helping us. I owed them, and loved them, but I'd be happy to be out of their house and back to my family.

Marty stayed with me that night. He was kind and gentle. Of course I was in no shape for sex, wouldn't be for several weeks, but he let me service him with my mouth. I was so glad to feel him respond to me after the last few months. He caressed me, brushing my hair, whispering that he loved me. I was almost in tears when he finally filled my mouth.

It felt to good to fall asleep in his arms. I'd missed that so much. The intimacy I'd lacked for far too long. I still noticed that his hands never wandered lower than my breasts, but they were nicely filled. I'd have to milk them for a while, they were already feeling full and sore.

The next day we sat and talked. He brought me up to date on the kids' lives. I told him how I'd finished my schooling and passed my certification. He was proud of me, and it wasn't just words. I could see it in his eyes. A look that had been missing all to frequently in the last few visits.

"Are we going to be Ok, Marty?" I asked.

He nodded. "I love you. You love me, don't you?"

"Of course! You shouldn't even have to ask!"

"I'm not going to find out about more lovers from your past, am I? There's not going to be any more mystery men? You won't be showing up pregnant in the future, will you?"

Each question was a like a slap. Yes, I had fallen, but it only been once. I was a good wife. I made a mistake while drunk, but I was paying the price.

"No Marty. It was only the one time, and I was drunk. Sam had seduced me, and I fell for it. I know better now. No man will ever do that again. Never again will I drink to the point where I can be taken advantage of. I'm sorry, baby, but I swear it won't happen again. I hope you believe me. I'll be a good wife." I said it earnestly, hoping he'd read the truth in my eyes, my words, my tone.

He nodded. "I want to believe you, honey. More than anything. I'm going to try, but I have to confess, I have dark thoughts sometimes. Your lover wrote me a letter from jail. He said terrible things. Things about how you behaved with him. How you responded to him. Things you did. On our bed. To me."

Oh God! How could he? I felt the tears welling in my eyes. "I was drunk, Marty. I . . . I did some bad things, I know. But I love you and he meant nothing to me. I don't know what he said, but I swear, it was only a moment of drunken sex, and I'll make it up to you."

"Is it true you came for him over and over? That you begged him to fuck you. Did you really scream your pleasure, laying beside me, making fun of me, telling me what he was doing to you."

It wasn't good. To hear him say it seemed so wrong. Yes, I'd loved it, but it wasn't my fault. That damn Sam and his ungodly huge cock, and the things he could do with it. What woman wouldn't have responded? "Baby, I don't even remember much of it, I was too drunk. You have to believe me. I would never knowingly hurt you. I wouldn't insult you, I love you."

I wasn't sure he believed me, but he left it alone after that. Once again, I slept in his arms, after doing my best to prove with my mouth the was the one for me. I hoped he could let it go. It was over. It had to be over. I'd made a mistake, and paid my price. We had to move one.

~ * ~ * ~

It was another six weeks before I was ready to go home. Six difficult weeks, full of weeping and self-guilt. Giving up the baby was hard on me. Not having my family was even harder. When he arrived, I was already packed and the car was loaded. I was eager to leave. I was feeling better, and the doctor said I could have sex again, but I had to be careful. I'd been practicing my exercises, I wanted it to be good for Marty. He didn't need any more reminders of what had happened, and a loose, sloppy pussy wasn't a good start. Besides, I didn't have much else to do. I even bought a little device to use, and practiced holding it in my pussy for several minutes, squeezing my muscles tightly around it, making it dance up and down. I'd been doing it for more than three weeks, and was seeing the results already.

He only stayed for a few hours, long enough to eat a meal, say goodbye to my parents, and start the three hour drive home. I didn't even get a chance to show him my new tricks, but figured that once we got home was soon enough.

He seemed almost as nervous as me. I needed him. I was tempted to tell him to pull over and get a room, so we could make love and get that out of the way. It had been long, too long. Almost six months by my count.

As we got closer to home, I could tell he was anxious. I tried to calm him.

"Relax, Marty. It's over. I'm home now. We can go back to being the loving family we've always been. I screwed up, and I can't take it back, but it's over and done with. Now I get to spend the rest of my life making it up you."

"There's been some changes, Jackie," he suddenly blurted. "It . . . it wasn't planned. You were gone so long, and I was lonely, and you weren't there . . ."

I started to get dizzy. I was afraid I was going to faint. He couldn't be saying what I thought he was, could he? Surely, after all I'd gone through."

"I love you, Jackie. You're the mother of my children. We've had seventeen mostly wonderful years together. I . . . I was hurting, and lonely."

God he sounded so pitiful, making excuses. "What have you done, Marty?"

"I didn't mean for it to happen. I swear. It was an accident really. I was drunk one night, crying in my beer, missing you. You have to believe me." He was slowing down as we drove into the neighborhood. "I don't know what to do. I love you, and you'll always be part of me, part of the family."

"What, Marty?" I almost screamed. I was clutching the door handle so tightly my fingers ached.

"Don't think I don't love you, Jackie. Even after everything you did to us, cheating on me, and carrying that bastard's child. It isn't because I don't love you. I do, I just don't know what to do now. It's all so complicated."

The bastard was driving me crazy, frightening me. What was complicated? Why wouldn't he just spit it out? I was hyperventilating, trying to calm down as he pulled onto our street. "Tell me Marty, just be honest with me. I deserve that much. I was honest with you."

That was probably the wrong thing to say. "You were honest with me? You didn't even tell me what had happened until you knew you had to because of your damn pregnancy. Sam was over at our house all the time, laughing behind my back, both of you, until you finally confessed your cheating. Even then you tried to play it down, keeping secrets. How was that honest?" he snapped. I saw his hands clutching the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white.

"I told you I'm sorry, and we're past that now. What's going on Marty? Please tell me. You're making me nervous. I'm scared."

He seemed to deflate, sighing deeply. "I didn't want this," he murmured. He turned into our driveway, and moments later our children came tearing out of the house. For a moment I forgot our issues, and opened the door to receive their hugs. My babies. I'd missed them to much. They had grown, they looked so different. I hugged them and kissed them until they finally released me and took me by the hand, one each.

"Don't leave again Mom," Donna said. "I know Grandma needed help but we need you to. You were gone so long!"

I was about to answer her, when I looked up and saw her. That tart from across the street. She was dressed casually, but I could just tell. She didn't have the look of a visitor. She looked like she was protecting her home, like I was the guest. She had the decency to look embarrassed for a moment, but stood aside and held the door open for me. Her little one was parked behind her, watching me as if I were a criminal, and intruder in her home.

Perhaps I was.

I looked around for Marty, and he was following, head down, my bags in his hands. I needed to talk to him, but my children were pulling me forward, into the living room, encouraging me to sit. I saw concern in their eyes, and realized that they knew the issues. They were trying to bury them, but it was clear. Still, it seemed they had missed me, and wanted me there.

I didn't know what to say. I was torn up. I wanted to scream, to shout, to cry. But I had to think of my babies. I opened my arms to them, and they hugged me. Even Eric, who thought he'd outgrown hugs years ago. "I've missed you," I said.

"Don't leave us," Donna whispered. "You can't leave us again."

"I won't," I promised, wondering if it were true.

Marty stood in front of me, holding out a glass of wine I sorely needed. He handed it to me, his look almost begging for understanding. "I love you, Jackie," he said haltingly. "We . . . the kids, all of us, need you."

"What is she doing here?" I asked. It was stupid, I know, but I couldn't help myself.

He blushed.

"Is . . . is she—"

"I tried to tell you in the car. We should talk privately after dinner. Let's get your things put away, and give you a chance to relax," he said.

Relax? Without knowing what the hell was going on? What was the chance of that?

"Jackie? Could you help me in the kitchen?" Marie called out. My nemesis. The evil bitch that was trying to steal my man, wreck my marriage, taking my place in my home.

Donna looked up at me nervously. "She's nice, Mom. She really is."

Sure she was. Man stealer. I released my kids, and went to confront her. She'd be lucky to leave my kitchen alive.

She was making a gravy for the roast, and handed me a wooden spoon. She looked as nervous as I felt. She should be. There was a special place in hell for women like that.

"I'm sorry," she said. "We never meant for it to happen."

I dipped the spoon into the gravy, running it along the edges of the pan, then through the middle. "What is 'it'?" I asked. "What happened? What the hell are you doing in my kitchen?"

"It was after one of his last trips out to see you. He always came back so happy, but that time he was depressed. In a terrible mood. I only wanted to help him. I swear, nothing had happened until then, we were just friends," she murmured. She was mashing the potatoes by hand, using way too much butter.

"What happened?"

"We . . . we drank too much. He cried on my shoulder, and I heard the whole story for the first time. We drank almost three bottles of wine. I don't know how it happened, but I woke with him in his bed—"

"My bed," I reminded her.

"Yes, your bed. We didn't mean for it to happen, we were drunk. I'm not like that. I swear."

"Of course you're not," I sneered.

"Please believe me. It was one time, it was never going to happen again. I felt so horrible. We tried to pretend like nothing was different. I was still helping, preparing dinners, doing some cleaning. He was good to me, and I wanted to help."

"Help yourself, don't you mean?"

She sighed, and turned to me. "It was wrong. I know it. And I'm sorry. But it is what it is. I'm part of this family now, the family you abandoned to carry some bastard's child. Do you really think Marty should have to be celibate because of your selfish decision?"

"It wasn't my decision! I could have been here. He sent me away," I hissed.

She glanced toward the doorway, speaking softly. "You fucked another man. You got pregnant. You decided you wanted to carry his baby. That was all you. I picked up the broken pieces you left behind. I watched your kids, took care of your husband, and stopped this home from collapsing. He needed me. They needed me."

"They don't need you now. I'm home. Why don't you go back to your house now and leave us alone?"

She turned and checked the roast, which had been settling after taking it from the oven. "I am home. I sold my house. Tommy and I live here now." She sighed. "I don't want to make a mess of this. We should talk later, with Marty present. Just understand, I'm willing to do what it takes to make this work for you."

"Great. We'll pack your stuff after dinner."

She glared at me. "What I mean, is, I won't make you pack and leave. There'll always be a place for you here in my home."

I was seriously thinking of going for her, but she had that damned carving knife in her hand, slicing the roast. The kids chose that moment to enter the kitchen, and the moment was lost. Dishes were carried to the dining room, and before long we were eating.

The conversation was awkward. The meal seemed to last forever. I was drinking heavily trying to deaden the pain. Marty was no better, and we polished off two bottles of wine, before the meal was finished. Eric was gone as quickly as possible, and I heard the tell-tale sounds of his gaming leaving the room. Donna's face was buried in her iPhone, as she left the table. Marie started clearing the table, and I wanted to tell her to sit her ass down. This was my house. She was the guest.

Marty took me by the hand, and dragged me to the back of the house. I stumbled a little, and realized I'd had to much to drink to handle the conversation we needed to have. We walked into our bedroom, and I saw my bags on the floor. At least that was settled. He took me in his arms. "I do love you, Jackie."

I was angry, hurt, and lost. I was also drunk. I hugged him back. "Are you sure?"

He was undressing me. I could feel his need, hard, pressing against me. That couldn't be faked. He kissed me fiercely, while stripping me. I felt helpless under the barrage of his myriad hands. So many hands for one man. Then we were in bed, his lips on my breasts, his hands reclaiming me. I groaned as he opened my legs, and felt a moment of fear before he entered me, slowly, filling me. Well not quite filling, but it felt good.