An Ultimatum Shatters a Marriage

© 2021 by T.S. Fairfield. Uploaded to Literotica.com; The author reserves all rights. No further use or dissemination without the author's expressed permission.

This is a work of fiction, and all participants are aged 18 or older. You must be at least 18 to read this.

Check the 'tags' before reading, as some themes, language, ideas, opinions, beliefs, imagery, conclusions, characterizations, dialogue, depictions of sex/violence, and obtuse film or cultural references might hurt your feelings or offend your sensibilities. Just remember: "Quae nocent, saepe docent!"

This work represents one person's views on an alternative lifestyle and is presented solely for entertainment purposes. A full version of Grammarly was used to edit this work within the limits of that program. There are some errors within, due to my inability to secure an editor or even a good 'second set of eyes', for final perusal. (I work well in collaboration, so if you are interested, email me; lousy pay, great hours, hilarious side-bar conversations!)

Feedback is not only welcomed but encouraged, and each comment will be thoughtfully considered, except for obvious trolling. Finally, I try to respond to all direct feedback in a timely manner.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Present Day

My wife and the mother of our two children sat across from me in one of the private consultation rooms at my attorney's office. She'd asked for this one-on-one meeting a mere six days before our divorce was final. Gone was the bluster of the new, sexually liberated Cara. She wore minimal make-up, and her hair was back in a simple ponytail. Her slacks and blouse resembled a grade-school teacher's workwear. Cara's shape was trimmer, softer due to weight loss, and foregoing foundational lingerie. Jewelry consisted of a watch and a simple, matching earring-pendant set. Cara's selection of jewelry was well-considered since all had been significant gifts from me earlier in our marriage.

Absent was the Cara I'd grown to dislike and finally hate. Her eyes were now clear, and gone was the perpetual look of disdain that bordered on a sneer which she'd worn for months. The voice belonged to the woman I'd married over twenty years ago. Most importantly, she was able to look me in the eyes.

"Ian, thank you for coming," Cara said softly. Her smile was almost demure. "I wanted to talk to you before the divorce is final." I merely nodded. Her confidence waned, and she looked away for a moment, then recovered. "First, I've never apologized for what I did to you, to the kids, to me, and our families. Please, I offer you my deepest apologies. I've apologized to them profusely, but there is still so much hard feeling and anger, but I'm sincerely working on all of it.

"I realize that I've hurt you most of all." Cara bit her lip as tears flooded her eyes. "I used our love as a weapon against you when I told you to either put up with what I wanted or leave. Now, it breaks my heart to think about how you suffered before I pushed you too far. Even worse in my mind are the times I came home with the filth and stink of my lovers on me, and you made love to me as if I was the still your clean, faithful wife..." Cara broke down sobbing.

I watched, part of me wanting to hold her because I still intensely loved this Cara, as much as I detested the other one. However, looking at her from the steel-reinforced, impermeable survival shell I'd built around myself since those dark days months ago, all I could do was grab the box of tissues and toss them over to her. The box plopped by her, and she looked up, startled. Her unguarded eyes were hurting and broken. Cara grabbed two tissues and said, "Thank you, Ian."

Watching her cry tugged at me on two levels. Inside my hard survival shell, the thinking was, 'Suffer, bitch!' The part of me that loved the old Cara, the one I would have given my life for, wanted to hold her and kiss away those tears. One of the incredible things about the human mind is how it storehouses every aspect of life, all of it retained for one single purpose: survival. Images, feelings, memories, and things that still haunted my dreams clouded my perception of the woman sitting before me.

As she wept, those memories of her laughing, sneering, and bragging about her extracurricular sexual activities returned, still hurtful and humiliating. These torturous mental images culminated with The Night when shit went sideways with us. That was the night when Cara finally extinguished enough of the love I felt for her that it was possible to shed her entirely. My love of self and children finally tipped the scales in favor of acting upon her ultimatum. The answer to Cara's cruel ultimatum was now part of our shared history.

How had all this shit started? It began as fantasy pillow-talk, but fantasies becoming real and destroying a good woman and a marriage are rare. So, the truth is more complicated. I guess the fantasy was the fuse, but an old college friend of Cara's, Donna, lit the fuse. She was on marriage number three at age 43 to an older guy who let her take lovers. She told Cara that his second wife divorced him because she wouldn't cuckold him.

Our sex life was always good. I'm tall, athletic, and have three things in my favor. First, I have a decent size cock which Cara loves. I am also a born pleaser, and Cara's satisfaction has been a massive turn-on for me. My psychologist tells me that Cara eventually construed this as submissiveness and used it against me. Finally, I am totally uninhibited with my wife, which Cara also tried to twist into this made-up, submissive, compliant persona.

Cara is about a foot shorter than me, at 5'3". She added a few pounds when the kids were born, and I never noticed those few pounds because, at 42, she's got this beautiful, voluptuous shape. Her legs are long for her height, and she's got the most delicious, rounded butt that makes me weak-kneed. She hates her 34B breasts, but they've got these long sensitive nipples which I use to drive her crazy. Her best feature is Cara's pretty, heart-shaped face, with a perfect cupid's bow mouth and large, blue eyes framed by shoulder-length auburn hair.

The bottom line with Cara was that she was never satisfied with her body. To her, any one flaw far outweighed the outstanding majority. I truly loved everything about my precious wife, but I never felt that my words and supporting actions carried much weight with her. As a result, Cara struggled for approval from others. I hoped that as she matured into her forties, she would learn to love herself as much as I loved her.

Almost One Year Earlier...

Late the previous year, Cara began to change sexually, but it was for the better. She'd always dressed very business-like but with a stylish flair. In her sexier manifestation, her hemline came up, the top two blouse buttons came loose, and all the bras she bought were to accentuate her bustline with a wisp of lacy cleavage showing. Her lingerie went from mom-style to lacy to downright calendar-girl. Her heels went up a couple of inches. Our sex life went from being good to great. Cara attributed it to an early-40s awakening. I never questioned it, which in retrospect, was foolish. In my defense, Adam never saw past Eve's charms to notice the warning label on that apple.

Cara, who was a group leader in the financial services company where she works, occasionally traveled or had events she'd attend after work hours. Overnight, she went from bitching about these duties taking away from her family time to embracing the 'networking opportunities' and 'team-building' they represented. Almost overnight, Cara looked forward to her travel, and when she came home from any of these events, I would practically get raped.

Being the prototypical trusting, blinded-by-love, clueless husband, I thought I was the luckiest man alive. Upon her return from a business trip, I would joke that if she weren't careful, she'd accidentally fuck me before she dropped her suitcase. Then, at her company Christmas party, a couple of people in her work group seemed to go out of their way to joke with me but in a very personal, almost snide way. Nothing overt but just frat-boy innuendo stuff. Both of these guys were at least 10-years younger than Cara. I chalked it up to drunk and stupid.

All this time, Donna was never far away. One night, Cara invited her, and I initially presumed her husband, over for drinks outside by the fire-pit. It was soon clear this younger man, probably in his mid-thirties, wasn't her husband, Chuck. He had one of those silly names that I can't recall, and his biceps appeared larger than his I.Q. The whole thing had an awkward, embarrassing feel to it.

After they left, Cara read my body language and said, "Spill it, honey." She was slipping into one of her new sheer nightgowns. "I told you she dates other men with her husband's blessing, didn't I?"

I nodded as I watched her with growing excitement. "Yes, you did, baby, but it feels just weird to me."

Cara laughed wickedly. "Ian, we've played that fantasy a lot, and it seems to turn you on!" She playfully pinched my nipples as I shrugged off my loud Hawaiian shirt. "Come on, admit it! You get turned on by it. Now imagine Donna taking her date home and fucking in front of Chuck." Her hands went immediately to my growing erection, and Cara grasped it in a way she would not have just months ago.

She pushed me against the wall and proceeded to give me one of the greatest blow-jobs ever. Her eyes never left mine, and she would stop sucking while she used both hands on me to take me right to the edge. She would say things like, "Imagine me sucking you like this while another man is fucking me!" or "What if I was doing this to another man, and you were getting to watch?"

Yes, the sheer eroticism and forbidden nature of it caused me to explode into my wife's mouth. Instead of swallowing it, she kissed me, which is something that's always turned on both of us. For me, being the pleaser I am, the way it excites Cara is what does it for me. Tonight was no different, and I ate Cara to several orgasms before we fucked twice, finally falling asleep in each other's arms.

The truth was that the sex was amazing. At that time, though, I wasn't aware of the present cost nor the future skyrocketing cost of our 'great sex'.

It was a Friday night in mid-March because the famous Shakespeare quote bubbled up later. Sarah was on a trip with a friend's family, and Scott holed up gaming at one of his friend's houses for the weekend. Cara texted me about six o'clock and told me to order pizza that she was running late, but she didn't indicate how late. My return text was unanswered. A little before eight o'clock, my wife got home, dropped her briefcase on the coffee table, and straddled me right there on the sofa. She knew the kids' plans, and while this behavior was a little extreme, even for the new Cara, it wasn't out of character given the past weeks.

As she straddled me, I reached under her skirt and realized she was panty-less. Cara saw my expression and said, "They're in my purse! Now, get out your cock, and let's fuck!"

What followed was an intense fuckfest, beginning with Cara straddling me on the sofa and ending with her on the ottoman. Immediately, she grabbed my face and pulled it to her steamy, cum-filled cunt. Her expression was wicked! "Eat me! Clean me out!" She ground her sopping cunt into my face and hissed, "This fuckin' turns me on like you can't...". Cara's first orgasm was already sweeping over her. Her hands painfully gripped my hair as she used me as a human sex toy!

For the next fifteen minutes, Cara was uncontrollable as she orgasmed repeatedly. We finally finished on the floor, and as we recovered, she kissed me passionately and deeply. Her beautiful brown eyes, both relaxed and intense, held me firmly as she said lowly, "Ian, baby, that was the best sex we've ever had." She caressed my cheek lovingly. "I've never come like that before, baby. Ever."

When I helped her stand, Cara's legs were shaky. My sweaty, disheveled wife put her arms around me, looked up, and said, "I love you so much, Ian. Please, baby, never, ever doubt that." I was so satisfied and in love with this sexy, early-forties woman that I took those words precisely at face value.

That next evening, Saturday, I took Scott to the indoor shooting range, where Cara usually joins us. That night, she informed me some of her team members wanted to get together for a few drinks, and she'd meet us later, at home. While this was unusual, the first quarter was coming to a close, so it was normal for her team to meet informally and discuss their Q1 accomplishments. I was only puzzled because it was a last-minute thing.

Cara left the house ahead of us, and I was surprised that she dressed for a night out rather than what she usually wore for her team functions. I laughed and joked, "Damn, baby! Should I go with you? You look like you might need protection!"

Cara smiled and kissed me. Turning to Scott, she said, "Keep an eye on Dad. Those ladies at the range always devour him with their hungry little eyes!" As she grabbed her keys, she said, "Don't get too relaxed, big boy! I have plans for you!"

Scott looked up with big eyes and said, "Dang, Dad. If that wasn't my mother, I'd mention that she was one hot lady!"

Again, I was clueless. Cara was like a video game with new features unlocked every day. I wondered how I could be this lucky! As I slumbered on, events were unfolding that would drive me towards The Night.

After we returned from the range, Scott and I spent about two hours cleaning our pistols and the long guns we'd shot. Around ten-thirty, one of his friends called and asked him to spend the night, which meant playing an online video game. I told him to go, and after he wrangled some snack money out of me, he took off, leaving behind an empty house. I waited in sexual anticipation for Cara to return. I even wondered if Scott's going was his way of ensuring us a place all to ourselves.

A little after eleven, Cara walked in, looking unkempt and walking unsteadily. Her eyes didn't focus, and even in her inebriated state, she managed, "Noooo, issht not like you think." She put two fingers against my lips to silence me. "No, honey. I got a ride home, Maria did, see." I smelled the alcohol, cigarettes, sweat, and the aroma of sex.

I sat her on the couch, and Cara immediately took me in her arms and said, "Fuck me, baby! Fuck me good, husband!"

Sensing something was wrong, I pulled away from her. "Cara, you're a mess. What the hell happened tonight?"

Her facial expression was the one drunks get when they're trying to think. Cara's face pointed towards me, but her eyes were focusing somewhere behind me. She did that facial scrunch and eye closing so characteristic of drunks when they're trying to focus their eyes and can't quite do it. "Nothin' happen't tonight, baby!" She smiled and started grabbing at me again.

"Cara, this wasn't a team-building, was it?" My pulse was hammering in my head. "Damn, it! What's going on?"

She thought for a moment and said, "Shit, mister buzz-kill, it was a fucking girls' night."

"Damnit, Cara!" I reached down and grabbed her legs, and her faced exploded in a lusty smile, anticipating our usual frenzied fucking. However, I pushed her back onto the sofa and looked between her legs. Cara's panties were missing, and her cunt was freshly fucked. "What the hell is this shit?" I yelled.

Desperately, Cara cried, "Baby, please. Just fuck me! Shoot your load into me too, and make me yours, like you have all the other times! Oh, please, I need this so bad right now!"

With those words, the awful truth hit me, and suddenly a hundred obscure, unrelated bits of information came together. It was like a video of a shattering window run in reverse! My first reaction was to run, but my legs just collapsed, and I sat heavily upon the floor. The next thing was a flood of revulsion, and nausea hit me like a tidal wave. It took me a moment to identify the scream in the room as mine.

I locked myself in my study, where I went through the entire gamut of emotions and feelings all alone. That's the hell of these things: you are on your own. I was flying solo through clouds rife with F5 tornadoes. Unless you've sampled this bitter cup, served up intentionally by someone you love more than your own life, you cannot imagine how it feels.

I had nearly twenty years of being married to one woman who had turned into another person in the last few months. Tonight, I had seen the prohibitively high cost of our new and more excellent sex life! About three in the morning, I went back into the family room, and Cara was curled up asleep on the sofa, still in her party clothes.

Her phone was in her purse, and I knew her swipe pattern, so I opened it. I figured she'd already forfeited any further trust between us. Inside, there were all kinds of texts and a couple of videos that finished ripping out what few remaining insides I had. Back in my study, I started writing down names and phone numbers. I either took photos of the texts or forwarded them to my phone. I ended up with over 30 photos, two videos, and a ton of information. I plugged her phone into my computer and backed up all her pictures and videos onto my hard drive, which proved to be a treasure trove when I looked at them later.

When I couldn't crack her personal email, I took a chance and went to "forgot my password." Sure enough, the backup contact was her cell phone, so the email service texted me the new password. In that program, I reset the password and selected my phone as the backup for a forgotten email password.

I opened her email program on my computer and hit the mother lode! Some of these emails were from her two boy-toys at work, along with her immediate boss. A number had originated from company computers. Donna was all over the email, too. By this time, I was barely holding it together.

It was all I could do not to read these emails in great detail, especially when I saw my name pop up a few times. Scanning these messages, it was clear that much of our new, more-intense sex life was the fact that Cara was cuckolding me. I figured out my wife especially loved it when she came home and either gave me sloppy seconds or, worse, had me go down on her. Donna playfully called this latter Cara's "creampie surprise." These revelations were the last straw, and I became violently ill, puking my guts out in the attached bathroom.

About daylight, I heard someone in the kitchen. Entering, I saw Cara unsteadily trying to make coffee. She stared at me, and I just walked back into my study and shut down my computer. There's a side door with a small porch, and I stepped outside to get some fresh air. In the flowerbed are several rocks I picked up in the Big Bend over the years, and I knelt and pulled up a big chunk of lava I'd brought home around fifteen years ago. I dropped my wife's iPhone on the porch and smashed it with this 350-million-year-old piece of the earth's fiery mantle. The shattered phone and all the betrayal and soul-shattering reality it contained went into a shallow grave under that old stone. Symbolically, I was burying a hell of a lot more than a damned shattered iPhone!

I heard the door open behind me, and I refused to look at her. "Ian, we need to talk."

I stood and turned suddenly, and Cara stepped back in surprise. "No, shit, dear wife!"

Cara's face took on a self-satisfied smirk. "I've made some coffee. Apparently, Scott is gone. Do you know anything about that?"

"Yeah, he's at Matt's house," I said.

Then, she had the unmitigated gall to say, "Aren't those two boys spending way too much time video gaming?"