tagLoving WivesNo One Won

No One Won

bySlirpuff©

Revenge sometimes can be a double edge sword. Wielding it around carelessly can do the intended damage sought but can also hurt the person doing the wielding. In this case we both got permanently hurt.

No one won or got anything out of it other than the lawyers either time. Both of us ended up looking like assholes while alienating most of the people around us. If I had to do it over again, I wouldn't have done what I did, but I probably wouldn't have married Jean either. Nevertheless, it did happen and now we're going to have to live with what we both did. As I said, no one came out a winner.

I'm not even sure why I did it. That's what I told myself when it happened the second time. I guess facts be known, I just didn't have the common sense to stop it and never in a million years did I ever think I'd get caught, but I did. Something about a text message, that I never saw come in, that was inadvertently read by my wife. After that, I was screwed so to speak.

Rhonda was just so, hell, I don't even know what to say, other than there was something about Rhonda that drew me to her. Tall, lean, smart, with an incredible sensuality about her. Her skin was chocolate brown, and she wore her black hair cropped short. She wasn't what I'd call a true beauty but had an aura around her that hypnotically drew me in. She was the editor assigned to me by the publishing company Anderson and Davis who were printing my children's books. She was going to edit my book chapter by chapter as I finished them. Rhonda was picked because she conveniently lived in the same state and would touch base with me once a month to both pick up my new work and go over what she'd finished. You would think listening to me babble on that I had a shitty marriage and was unfulfilled sexually in my marriage, quite the contrary. I loved my wife Jean and had a beautiful daughter April, who I adored. How could I have been so stupid?

My wife and I had been married for just over four and a half years. She works for Connor and Edwards, a large accounting firm based out of Atlanta. She had started there the year she graduated from college and was coming up on five years with them. We met the same year we both graduated college at a Barnes and Noble bookstore of all places. She is an avid reader who always seemed to have a book in her hands. I had graduated with a degree in English Literature and was researching books on teaching. We were in the same long checkout line, started talking and that night had our first date. She was going out with a 'hunk' as she referred to Dennis, but didn't like the way he treated her or talked to her at times. It didn't take me long to win her over. I treated her like I would want to be treated by a girlfriend and soon Dennis was history.

If I were to describe Jean, I could probably sum it up by saying she was very pretty. She wasn't a knockout, not that I am anything to rave about either, but was easy on the eyes as they say. At about five foot five, she wore her dark brown hair short, had hazel eyes, and a nice figure. She was about a 34B and even though she had a slim waist she was what people would say a little hippy not that I cared. Jean was very smart and a wiz with numbers. She wasn't boring and dull like most of the accountants I'd known but was vibrant and full of life. Whatever in the world could have possessed me to cheat on her?

I'd like to say I romanced her and she fell head over heals in love with me but it didn't happen that way. We started to go out and she just kind of took over. She was the one to push the dates and after six months was the one to ask where we were going with our relationship. I thought it was a match made in heaven, we were so much alike or so I thought.

"Steve, I think we should get a place together," is how the conversation started one night. "I love you, you love me, and hell, we're spending almost every waking moment out side of work together. We could probably save a ton of money moving in together." She was right about that one.

"How about this? Why don't we get married?" To make a long story short, I proposed, she accepted.

She had a ton of friends and had three bridal showers and two bachelorette parties. Her new friends at work threw her a small bachelorette party but the people she grew up and went to school with threw her a huge bash at one of the local watering holes.

"Don't wait up for me because I know I'm going to be late," she said putting her outfit together.

"Maybe I should wait up, how about if you're too drunk to drive?"

"Ann is driving tonight because they told me that we're going to be partying until the sun comes up." And they did just that. I finally fell asleep at just after twelve and when I woke up at four o'clock she still wasn't home. I got up at seven to use the bathroom and found a semi-clad Jean in the bed next to me. She didn't move until sometime after two in the afternoon.

"You alive?" I asked when she finally got up.

"Not sure, I think I am," she moaned.

"You must have had a great time by the looks of you."

She raised her head slightly and told me not to talk so loud and then went racing towards the bathroom. I think I saw a lung and kidney in there before she flushed. Two days later she was almost her old self again.

We had a small ceremony three weeks later with about fifty people, mostly close friends and family.

Even though we'd done it before we got married, I think she tried to wear it out the first couple of weeks after our wedding and honeymoon. I wasn't at all surprised when she came up pregnant, though she sure was. I had found an empty box from a test kit in the trash the week of our wedding but no test stick. Condoms weren't a hundred percent foolproof, after all. Was I pissed? Hell no! I was glowing at the prospect of becoming a father.

Like any good expectant dad I did the Lamaze classes and was in the delivery room when April was born. She was the type of baby dreams are made of. She slept all night, hardly ever cried, and was almost never fussy. As I said, she was the kind of baby mothers dreamed about having.

I read to her every night from the first day we brought her home from the hospital. I didn't matter that she couldn't understand a word I was saying—it just brought me closer to her. Jean didn't mind either when I took over the night feedings or when I changed her dirty diapers but drew the line when I tried to help at breast-feeding. I found out playing with her other breast while she was feeding April was no help at all.

We had done it a couple of times a week almost all the way up until April's birth. Even though most of the time our sex was pretty vanilla, every once in a while Jean would let me get a little crazy especially after she had a few drinks. After two glasses of wine, a blindfold, or tying her hands to the headboard were okay with her and more than a few hot outfits kept our sex life fresh.

When I told her that I was considering writing a book for children she was totally supportive. Even though I was stuck behind the computer for hours for several months she continued to encourage me. Finally I finished my book after many months. Jean read it and said it sounded good to her. I, on the other hand, thought it should be considered for a Newberry. I found out soon enough I was no Hemmingway. Microsoft Word didn't catch even a third of my mistakes. Most were so flagrant that I felt like an idiot after submitting it to a publishing company and having them tell me to at least clean up the spelling and grammatical errors. I paid two of my smartest high school students fifty bucks each to go through it at least twice. I resubmitted it and to my surprise they said with work it was good enough to publish. What did they mean with work? That's when I was introduced to Rhonda.

Thank God it didn't cost me anything because Rhonda must have spent a month redoing this or that in my story. I thought it sounded good before, but after she was done with it, it sounded great. It was a short book and I didn't make a hell of a lot of money from it, but it was a start. They said I had potential and were willing to work with me on my next two books. They permanently assigned Rhonda to edit my material. So began my downfall.

"How's the story progressing?" my wife asked me one night at dinner.

"Okay, I guess, but it's coming a lot harder and slower than the last one. I just hope I didn't have just one book in me."

"You know, it wouldn't be the end of the world either, would it? You work hard all day at school and deserve some down time, don't you think?" My wife really was a gem. "Well, if you're not too tired, how about a little fun tonight. Maybe I can give you a few things to write about," she said, starting to unbutton her top.

"It's a kid's story, but then again maybe I'll write a story about a wife who seduces her husband and gives him a night of wild sex." I started chasing her around the kitchen table.

"Easy tiger," she said. "Right now I need to get April ready for bed. Why don't you pick a short book this evening to read to her. I have a feeling we're going to be doing a lot of research later for your next story."

We had a great night of lovemaking. After kissing April goodnight and turning off the light I found my wife lying on the bed. She was wearing something pink that covered basically nothing. Within five minutes it was on the floor and Jean was straddling my waist. I did my best to hold her upright as she rode me. For the first time in a long time we did it twice. The first time was raw passion and the second was gentle loving. When I asked if she was up to once more she just kissed me and said, "Not in your wildest dreams. You should be satisfied with what you have." I was, but figured it couldn't hurt to try for more.

When I was far enough along with my next story I made an appointment to meet with Rhonda at my house shortly after four o'clock in the afternoon. The kids were dismissed from school at three and I normally was home by four. I got my first three chapters ready and glanced over them once more to see if I could see any obvious mistakes. It seems my big problem was that when I read my own work I wasn't reading what was on the paper, more so what I thought I had written. So much for me being my own editor.

Rhonda was at least five foot nine. She didn't have to look up at my five foot eleven inch frame to look me right in the eye. We sat at the kitchen table, Rhonda glancing at the pages making notes. That's when I first started noticing or should I say studying her. She wasn't bony but didn't have extra ounce of fat on her bones. She had large brown eyes that were set quite far apart on her face. Taking a guess, I gauged her age to be about thirty but I could have been five years off one way or another. Then it hit me. It was the one thing that drove me nuts whenever we were together and eventually doomed my marriage—it was her scent.

I really noticed it on her second trip. We were going over a few changes she'd made and we were almost close enough to touch. It was a little warm, though not hot enough to sweat. I don't know if it was her perfume or what, but it smelled wonderful. I found myself inhaling deeply whenever she moved in close. What the hell could it be? It was sweet but had a heavy musky sharpness to it. I almost asked what she was wearing but I figured that was too personal a question. After going over the first three chapters we briefly looked over the next four before Rhonda said that she had to leave.

"Your work is very new and refreshing," Rhonda told me, and began putting everything into her briefcase. "However, you're starting to repeat certain word more than once in a paragraph. Use dictionary.com for other words that may also be acceptable. You're still new at this and have a lot to learn but you have a future if you can stick with it." I thanked her and showed her out.

I sat at that damn table taking deep breathes inhaling what she'd left in my kitchen. When Jean came home about twenty minutes later she said that it smelled musty in the kitchen. Then she sprayed Lysol to get rid of the smell I'd been enjoying. So our monthly meetings went.

By chapter fourteen I'd turned up the temperature in the house by two to three degrees. I always had a cold beverage but was now lounging in shorts, a tee shirt, and flip-flops. I also noticed that Rhonda's dress became more casual also with shorts, sandals, and a lightweight top. Finally I had to ask,

"What is that wonderful perfume you're wearing?"

"Steve, I'm not wearing any perfume. For some reason most perfumes don't smell very good on me."

"Well, then it must be your deodorant," I said with a little laugh. Then she shocked me.

"Nope, it can't be that either since I never wear any. I hardly ever sweat and I hate to clog my pores up with any chemicals." She smiled.

"Well, Rhonda, if you don't mind me saying it, you should bottle your essence because you always smell fantastic." I was going to say erotic but didn't want to push it. I didn't need a sexual harassment lawsuit on my hands, but she did smile.

We sat next to each other through all twenty-four chapters and went from diet soda to glasses of wine during our proof reading sessions. I was developing a great set of lungs as I continued to drink in her essence. It was when I started thinking about what she'd taste like, that I got myself into trouble. It started with a casual hug and then a kiss on the cheek. When we finished my first draft I told her I was taking her out to dinner, with my wife of course. When Jean couldn't get a sitter on such a sort notice she told the two of us to go ahead without her.

"You sure hon? Maybe we can drop April off at my parents or yours."

"Don't be silly. You two are probably going to talk shop anyway and a night alone in a hot bath is what I'm planning." We kissed and after I changed clothes Rhonda and I headed out.

I was the perfect gentleman throughout the whole evening until she suggested a dance after dinner. It was a slow song and I had a hard on like you wouldn't believe. I held her close, closed my eyes, and for the first time I didn't think about Jean. She pulled me in tight I about lost it when she smiled and licked my ear.

"Is little old me doing that to you, Steve?" she toyed with me. She moved one of her legs between mine, and we were now almost screwing on the dance floor. When she reached her hand down and gave it a squeeze, it was all I could do to not shoot off. I knew I was in trouble.

We ended up in her room and I finally got to taste what I had been smelling for the last couple of months. I think I licked every square inch of her body as I drove her over the edge at least twice. Wrapping her legs almost around her head, Rhonda told me to pick a hole and to play with the other. I started with her pussy but ended up shooting in her ass while playing with her clit. One more oral session, a long shower, and I was on my way home.

You know, I didn't even think about what I'd done until late the next day. I must have still been up in the clouds somewhere remembering every second I'd spent with her, then I crashed big time. A text message saying what a wonderful time she'd had only added to my shame. What the hell was I doing? People got divorced for what I had done last night. I promised myself it would never happen again, but it did.

School was shut down the week of Thanksgiving. Rhonda asked if I had finished the last two chapters and Table of Contents because her boss was trying to get it ready to go print just after the first of the year.

"I'm done with everything but haven't gone over the last grouping more than once."

"Well, why don't I come up on Wednesday and we can finish the last two chapters, review the rest, and send it off to the office from your place. This way I'll get paid, you won't have to worry about it anymore and can have a relaxing holiday." It sounded good to me. Thankfully she didn't mention what had taken place between us the last time.

At dinner I gave Jean the good news. "A week from Wednesday the book will be put to bed. We'll have a relaxing Thanksgiving and Christmas with a few extra bucks to spend this year. I was making a couple of thousand dollars as a base and extra if the book sold over so many copies, which the first one should eventually do. I didn't want to get Jean's hopes up so I just told her the five thousand I was going to receive would be it.

We started at just before nine o'clock in the morning and Rhonda really pushed it the first couple of hours. We made very few changes and shortly before one thirty it was done.

"Steve, I need to use your bathroom," Rhonda said getting up from her seat and stretching.

"It's down the hall on the right," I told her feeling pretty good about finally finishing my book. I watched her walk down the hall and started putting the book back together again. I never even heard her come back.

I think it's time we celebrated, don't you?" I heard her say behind me. I turned around and my mouth dropped. She didn't have a stitch on.

"I started to say, "Rhonda, I can't do this," but she covered my mouth before I could get it all out. She was all ready working on me before I knew it and I was coating the inside of her mouth before my brain finally caught up with what was happening.

Lips, tongues, fingers, were all in play for the next couple of hours. I licked and ate her shaved pussy while she talked dirty to me.

"You know what that smell is you liked so much is? Well, since I hate to drive I spend those two hours playing erotic cd tapes and play with myself with my vibrator. I would turn it on low, slip it in and could usually get off a couple of times before I got here. It's nowhere near as good as that talented tongue of yours, but in a pinch it works. So, what you smelled on me was sex, pure and simple. I never realized that I smelled that strong until I saw how nuts it was driving you. I thought I'd be wearing you like a second skin you were getting so close to me," she said pulling her own lips apart as I lapped at her pussy. I was right about one thing—she tasted as sweet as she smelled.

The second time she climaxed over my face she cried out, "No more." She was getting sore and so was my tongue. We never even screwed this time. We took a shower together and within a half hour she was ready to leave. We kissed at the door and Rhonda told me to let her know when I started my next book. I washed my face once more, sprayed the room with Lysol and opened a few windows to air the place out.

We exchanged a few texts back and forth and I told her there would be no repeat of our last time together. I told her that it had been memorable but that I loved my wife and didn't want to screw up my marriage anymore than I'd all ready done. She said she understood.

It was just after the first of the year. I was working in the garage when the text message came through on my phone that was sitting on the kitchen counter. Jean was fixing April's lunch when the beep went off. Without thinking anything about it, she picked up the phone, read the message and in a New York minute my life and marriage ended.

There was so much screaming and crying for the next three hours I never had time to catch my breath. I'd like to say I was politely asked to leave but what really happened was for my own safety I packed a bag and went to a motel along with the cell phone that had ended my happy life.

"Just wondering if you had started your next book? Missing that golden tongue of yours. Don't think my pussy will ever be the same," was the text from Rhonda that ended it all.

I spent the next two months begging, pleading, and crying but to no avail. I was a louse, a cheating bastard, and Jean wanted nothing more to do with me. I asked for a second chance. I begged her to go to couples counseling. I pleaded and crawled on my knees saying I'd do anything and I did mean anything to get her back. Nothing worked. I was served. The reason was spelled out in capital letters, ADULTRY.

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bySlirpuff© 102 comments/ 78070 views/ 16 favorites

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