An Ultimatum Shatters a Marriage

Cara noted my facial expression, and her eyes widened. Through clenched teeth, I responded, "Well, if you weren't out getting fucked by your boy toys, you might figure into some of the parenting decisions around here! When you rolled in drunk, fucked, and babbling, you sure never asked about our son!"

Cara raised her hand as if to slap me, and the expression on my face stopped her. She lowered her hand and said, "I'm going to clean up, and then we need to get some things straight around here!"

I said, "Maybe douche with some gasoline while you're at it."

She sneered at me, and as my wife walked away, Cara gave me the finger. She said, "I haven't heard you complaining about our sex life the last few months, have I?" It was her echoing laughter that filled my head with homicidal thoughts.

I was at the kitchen table when Cara walked in dressed in a long, jade-green robe. Her hair was still wet, and she'd removed her make-up. Despite the apparent hangover, my wife looked confident, her bearing almost cocky. That was when I was violently struck by how much my wife had changed. It was as if a fog blew away, and I saw her in all her sordid reality. That sick feeling returned.

Cara poured herself a cup of coffee and grabbed her purse. She dug inside for a few moments and looked up, startled. I had to suppress the smile lurking behind my eyes. "Have you seen my phone?" she asked, panicked. Without waiting for my reply, she grabbed her keys to check her car and then suddenly realized her car wasn't at home.

I said, "It's probably in Maria's car, or you left it wherever you were, doing whatever you were doing last night."

"No, damnit. I paid for an Uber with my phone, right outside. I was drunk but not that drunk." Cara said. Then she paused and said, "Wait, Maria did bring me home! Shit!"

"I guess you're getting your many rides mixed up, Cara." I drained the rest of my coffee, stood, and said, "Well, while you're tearing apart the house looking for your phone, I'm going to shave and shower."

"No! Sit down, Ian! I'll find my phone later. I'll use the phone locator on my laptop! What I have to say needs to be said, now," my wife shouted.

"Calm down. I'm right here!" Dropping back into the chair, I said, "Let's talk."

Cara took a moment as if calming herself. "It's as simple as this, Ian. I'm having sex with other men. It's something I need, and I'm not giving it up for anything." She laughed breathily. "Look what it's done for our sex life, darling. We haven't fucked like this ever, not even as newlyweds. Try to tell me that it hasn't been the best."

I nodded and said, "You're right, Cara, the sex is wonderful, but I'm not prepared to take sloppy seconds and clean up after your fuck buddies, which I think is the big attraction for you. You get off on doing that shit to me, don't you?"

Unfazed, she responded, "I can't figure you, Ian. I'm willing to share this experience with you, make you my loving cuckold husband, and you can't handle doing something that you've been doing for months without realizing it!" She stood and leaned against the refrigerator. Her body language was strong, and her demeanor was imposing. Now was Cara's big play. "It's like this, Ian, you have two choices. Take it like it is now and participate with me, or we're done."

Her intense eyes bore straight into me. "This is my life, and you can either be part of it or not!" Cara poured out the coffee dregs, washed her mug, and put it in the dish drainer. As she walked past me, Cara said, "Think about it, Ian and let me know. I have a date this afternoon, and you can be part of it, darling. You can help me dress for him, or you can mope around like a little bitch. But you need to choose."

I showered and shaved in the guest bathroom before going back to my study to plan my next moves. However, before I decided on a next move, I had to figure out if there was anything I could do to bring my wife out of this mental state or whatever she was in at present. While I pondered my uncertain future, I saw the home phone's 'line' light come on.

My desk phone has an interesting feature where you can answer it on mute without clicking in on the line. Cara's voice was low, like she was afraid I was eavesdropping. "...and it's nowhere. I was so drunk last night, and I thought I paid for an Uber with it."

Donna laughed. "Honey, it was the Uber from Club Carmel to Jason's you paid for. Maria brought you home."

"I remember now, but I embarrassed myself in front of Ian," she explained. "I called her, and Maria looked. My phone's not there. Not outside, here, either."

Donna said, "If he took it, there's no way he can get into it. Get on your laptop and find it."

"I tried, and the phone has vanished. There were pics I wanted to text my husband to get his attention, and then that thing at Carmel happened!"

"Shit, Cara, it's just a damn phone. Report it lost and get another one, girl. Your stuff's all on the cloud." Then, Donna asked, "Anything come from that scene at the club?"

"Not yet. I'm walking on eggshells, but I guess he doesn't know how to bring it up with Ian. I threw myself on my sword and told him I'd make it all right."

"Babe, you know I got your back. If shit comes down, I'm in your corner," Donna promised. "How about your car? It's still outside Jason's condo, so when I pick you up at one, I'll run you by there to get it."

"Sounds like a plan," my wife said distractedly. She sighed and said, "Well, I gave Ian the ultimatum, so we'll see."

"Damn, Cara, how'd he take it?" Donna asked excitedly.

"Not good. His little feelings are hurt because I've been giving him sloppy seconds and second-hand creampies, but he won't deny that we've been fucking hotter than ever. I mean, ever, Donna."

"Been that good?" she asked.

"Yes, oh yes, it is," Cara gushed. "It's unbelievably mind-numbing doing this with Ian!"

"Better than it is with our guys?"

"Yes, Donna." Cara drew a ragged breath and explained, "It's so good with Ian because he's got this beautiful cock, and he worships me, girl, plus I love him with all my heart." She paused. "I just hope that, you know, I haven't made a big mistake."

Donna started to say something, but Cara continued, "The scary thing is that Ian is what makes this stuff so exciting. What I'm trying to say is that fucking other guys means nothing. It's the sensation of Ian being part of it that makes it so perfect. Now, thinking about him knowing about the other men and participating is almost too much to handle. Right now, Donna, I'm shaking from being so turned on!"

Donna laughed. "Damn, you are one hot bitch! Don't worry, honey. Men are all alike. Just lead 'em around by the dick. He'll realize that what he's been doing in ignorance for a long time, he can continue with quite easily. When Ian's fully into the lifestyle, he'll be so much easier to control. Stop worrying, Cara," Donna assured her.

Cara said, "I need to run. I asked him to help me get dressed for my date with Jason, but Ian went off to pout. I was so looking forward to that. I was so turned on thinking about my beautiful husband pulling on my stockings, selecting my lingerie, and rubbing lotion on me, all for another man! Oh, Donna, I need Ian with me on this!"

Donna gushed, "Yes, dear, it's so exciting! When Chuck helps me dress, we're both so horny we can't stand it. Just wait, Cara." After a thoughtful pause, the blonde added, "This evening, when you get home, get him in bed and tell him in detail everything you did with Jason. He'll be eating out of your hand if he's not so turned on that he's eating something else!" Both women laughed.

They said their goodbyes, and I waited to disconnect until they hung up to not risk a terminating 'click' into the line.

The 64,000-dollar question concerned the incident at Club Carmel! It appeared somebody caught her doing something, but who? The other takeaway from this call was understanding that I was the key to Cara's attraction to this lifestyle. That gave me a considerable measure of control, but how to use it to my advantage was a more complex question. These revelations joined the long line of other thoughts, fears, and unanswered questions tearing me apart.

I was in the family room when Cara came downstairs to wait for her ride. Of course, I wasn't supposed to know this, so I feigned ignorance. "So, Cara, are you really going out to fuck around on me?"

Irritated, she responded, "I'm no longer hiding it from you, Ian. You can get on board or get out."

Angry, I rose and approached her. "So, nearly twenty years of marriage means nothing to you. Our love means nothing. Our wedding vows are meaningless. Is that right?"

"Honey, you're acting dramatic. My feelings for you have never been stronger, and our marriage has never been this strong! So, I don't know what you're talking about!" she insisted, her eyes intense and angry.

"Love?" I asked. "Love is fucking other men and rubbing your husband's face in it, literally and emotionally? A strong marriage is one containing an ultimatum? How about if I want to fuck around? How about that? Let me take a shot at Donna!"

Cara turned on me and put her finger on my chest. "Just a minute, Ian! You fuck around on me, and we will have some big issues!"

My sharp laugh caught her by surprise. It slipped out as I was overwhelmed by the absurdity of it all. "Oh, Cara. The irony, or should I say hypocrisy, is stunning. It's as if you can fuck anything that walks, and I must blindly accept it or leave the marriage, but when I mention going outside the bonds of holy matrimony, you become a puritanical maniac!" Cara stared at me, stunned.

Donna pulled into the driveway. Cara tried to kiss me on the lips, and I turned my head in disgust. She looked like she was about to cry. I said, "Instead of running out to fuck somebody, maybe you need to stay here and talk about this insanity."

Cara slipped back into her new persona, blew me a kiss, and said matter-of-factly, "Time for talk is over, dear. See you around six." As I watched her walk away, my heart broke into a million pieces. I could deal with her betrayal's ancillary emotions, but the loss of love and real intimacy was what cut me to the core. Right now, I needed sleep, and it had been a little over 30-hours since I'd slept. Even with the coffee in me, I was asleep within ten minutes of hitting the futon in my study.

It was just getting dark when I heard the front door slam. A minute later, I listened to the study door open and smelled my wife's perfume, freshly applied. Cara whispered, "Come upstairs. I want to talk to you, honey." Then, she was gone.

As much as I wanted to hate her, twenty years and my intense love for her, albeit bruised and hurting, led me upstairs. First, I stopped in the guest bathroom and washed my face, and brushed my teeth.

The fading, early evening light from the master bedroom windows lit the room in a cold, dim light. Cara said gently, "Come lay beside me, Ian." She patted my spot. I stretched out facing her, a pillow scrunched under my head. "Honey, please make love to me. Remember how wonderful it's been? Nothing has changed, except you know about it now. I can make it so hot for you today that you might melt, baby!" Her eyes were soft and sexy.

"Knowing makes it different," I said. "Before, I thought the passion you brought to bed was for us and because of us, our marriage, and our love. But now I've learned I was the second act, the closer, the clean-up man, in every sense of the word."

This moment was when Cara acted on Donna's suggestion. I knew what was coming, so I let it happen. I needed her to pour salt into the wound to create the anger and fuel the rage, which would allow me to break the bonds of love that bound me to her.

She began, "I wish you'd been there watching. This young guy, Jason, oh baby, he makes me so fucking wet. His cock's no bigger than yours, but he feels so different. It's hard to explain, but he fucked me senseless. Every time I came, I thought about you, darling." She reached for the crotch of my jeans, and Cara's eyes widened. "Ian! You're not..."

I pulled her hand away. "You're right, darling, 'I'm not' anything but hurt, angry and disgusted. You see, Cara, I came up here hoping you'd play this fucking, cruel game with me because I need you to kill the incredible, blinding love I have for you. Tomorrow, I'll check back in for another treatment because soon, my dear, I'll be done with you and can cleanse my soul of the madness and poison you've brought into our marriage!"

Cara sat up, alarmed, and said, "No, Jason! Please!" The color drained out of her face when she realized her mistake. "You're the reason I'm doing this! It's no good without you! You're the spark that sets me off, baby!" she wailed.

I laughed coldly. "Nice going, dear wife. I'll bet that if you accidentally called one of your fuck buddies Ian while in the throes of passion, you'd all have a big laugh!"

"Ian! You're such a laid-back, sweet guy. You know you can do this! You just won't admit it, godammit! It used to turn you on when we fantasized about it!" she shouted. "Try it! Please, Ian! For me! For us! Don't you love me?"

I stood in the bedroom door and yelled back, "When it was a fucking fantasy, it was sexy and fun! Nobody gets hurt or used or demeaned or humiliated in a fantasy! Nobody unknowingly gets their wife's lovers' leftovers in a fantasy! Nobody gets an ultimatum to let their wife fuck other men or get the fuck out of the marriage in a fantasy, Cara! It's now fucking real, and you made it that way! Reality hurts people, or don't you get it?"

I slammed the door as I left the bedroom, and there, standing on the top tread of the stairs, was my daughter, open-mouthed, staring, her eyes filling with tears.

"Daddy! No! What was...?" Sarah sobbed.

"How long...?"

"Long enough, Daddy!" She ran crying to her bedroom and slammed her door.

I barely made it to the guest bathroom before I once again emptied the bile from my already empty stomach. I trembled as if caught in an Arctic gale. A few minutes later, I felt a small hand on my shoulder holding me, and the other hand wiped my face with a warm washcloth. My daughter slumped on the floor beside me and held me as she and I cried.

I slept in the guest room that night. Sarah apparently told Scott what was going on, which made breakfast around the kitchen table tense. Cara was red-eyed, probably from crying and lack of sleep, and both children were quiet and sullen. I finally said, "We all need to take a deep breath and step back." I looked at my wife's impassive face and back to my children. "Mom and I are going through a rough patch right now, and I know we said some things last night, but there's more to it than that. So, let's all..."

"Bullshit!" Sarah spat angrily and pushed away her cereal bowl. "I heard it all! Mom, I hate you right now!" she screamed. Indignantly, Sarah grabbed her backpack and said, "I'm out of here."

Scott didn't say a word except, "Wait, Sis. Can I ride with you?" She nodded, and as they walked out, Sarah placed a protective hand on her younger brother's back.

Cara and I just sat in sad, stunned silence. I managed a few bites of cereal and a cup of coffee, but this perpetually queasy feeling wouldn't go away. My health and sanity were fading rapidly.

Finally, my wife asked, "What are your plans, Ian?" Her expression was cold.

"I'm not sure." I pushed some cereal around my bowl, pondering. "What I'm not going to do is leave my home. Your ultimatum is bullshit, and I'm not leaving. Maybe you can move in with Donna and her loving cuckold husband, and y'all can play to your hearts' content. Then, the sewage you drag home would stay out of mine and the kid's lives."

Coldly, she said, "I could divorce you, Ian."

"Yeah, try it, babe! I'll countersue so fast for adultery that you won't know what hit you!" I barked. "At least two of your fuck buddies are married, aren't they!" The threat hung there between us.

"What proof do you have? My word against yours? And then if you press me, there's, 'Oh, yes your honor, he just got tired of his willing participation in my loving cuckolding of him and decided he wanted out! He never even asked me to stop, your honor, sir.'"

I wasn't going to get cocky and tip my hand about her 'missing' phone and her compromised email. Once Cara tried her personal email, I would be screwed, so before I went to work, I restored the recovery contact to her missing phone. She'd just have to wonder why her old password no longer worked.

After our usual Monday morning meetings and the previous week's recap, I went in to see my brother, Stuart, who's the president of our engineering company. I explained what was going on, and he said he wasn't too shocked. Everyone had noticed how Cara changed, but he had no idea it was that bad.

Stu advised me to see an attorney and see what my options were. In turn, I told him I had a doctor's appointment at eleven-fifteen to get checked for STDs and added that I needed to start adjusting some of my financial aspects. Stu also reminded me that since he and I had inherited our father's business before I married Cara, that she couldn't touch it.

I left the doctor's office about twelve-thirty, and while driving back to the office, my sister-in-law, Christine, who is Cara's youngest sister, called me. "Ian, I need you to meet me somewhere. I need to talk to you face-to-face," she insisted.

We agreed to meet at one o'clock at a small family café near her subdivision. Upon arriving, I saw that she was already parked, waiting for me. Christine, who was usually effusive, was restrained, her face tense. She was the youngest of Miles and Glenna Ford's four children and was tall like her father but shared some of her mother's alluring curves.

Eight years younger than Cara, at 34, Christine had been widowed three years ago when her husband fell asleep at the wheel driving home one night from a business trip. At home, she had 10-year-old fraternal twins, Jake and Marcie. Christine was as good and as resilient as any person I'd ever known. Overnight, the death of Jake Sr. pushed her from a comfortable middle-class stay-at-home mother to resuming her teaching career. Luckily, she taught at her children's grade school. Also, since Jake's death occurred on a company trip in a company vehicle, she received a generous settlement, as well as his life insurance.

After a warm but slightly subdued greeting, she led me to a booth away from the other patrons. We ordered coffee, chit-chatted for a few minutes, and then Christine asked, "How are you and Cara doing?"

I admitted, "Not good. In fact, it's pretty bad." Questioningly I asked, "Did she say something?"

"No, not Cara." She wore a look of consternation as she toyed with her napkin. "Not Cara. It was Dad."

"What?" I said, louder than I intended.

Christine rested her hand on mine as she explained. "Saturday afternoon, Dad was out with some of his old buddies from the service. You know Dad, normally the homebody. For some reason, they went by Club Carmel about four o'clock for a drink, and as Dad is going back to the restroom, he runs right into Cara. She was with another man and a couple."

This was sounding familiar, and my curiosity was piqued!

She studied me, a sad, plaintive look on her pretty face. "Dad said Sis had practically crawled down the guy's throat kissing him. You know our Dad. He pulled Cara off this guy's lap and marched her out to the parking lot. The bouncer followed them, and when the manager threatened to call the cops, he said, 'Call 'em! Please!' Her friend, Diana or Donna..."

"Donna," I clarified.

Christine nodded. "Donna, the brassy blonde. Anyway, Dad said that she and these two guys followed them outside, and Donna said Cara was just drunk and they were going to take care of her.