Another BobWrongerer Story

Her husband wasn't home, again. She wonders if he will home be in time for dinner.

Sally sighed, put her car in park, gathered up her armload of stuff (purse, lunch box, water bottle, phone, backpack...well you get the idea) and opened her car door. She put one leg out, leaned back, flipped down her visor to check herself out in the mirror. All good. She headed into her house.

It's been a long week for Sally...again.

Bob arrived, parking next to Sally's car. He got out of his car, pulled out his briefcase, locked the car and as he was walking away from the car, checked his phone. He responded to a text, then deleted it.

Bob had had another tough week. He's had suspicions, concerns and worries. You can see it around his eyes. It is weighing on him.

Stress, the body's response to things being inflicted upon it. Bob's life is stress-filled. Life and death shit. Big stakes. It was all coming from his personal life. Things with Sally weren't right. Somewhere in Bob, his soul was being crushed.

"Hey," Bob said, kissing Her. It was a quick kiss on the lips. No passion, a very mechanical kiss. When they were first married, Sally had laid the law down. She required a kiss on her lips from him, coming and going. Every time, no exception. Sorta like being required to kiss the Queen's ring.

"Why you running late?"

"Traffic."

Bob reached in the fridge, grabbed a beer and headed for the TV room.

Sally just didn't know what to make of Bob's behavior these days. Sally thought back to when it was good. Really good. Sad to say, it was a long time ago. A small smile crossed her lips as she remembered their early passions for each other.

Bob walked into the kitchen, opened the fridge, got another bottle of beer and headed back to his TV. He didn't even look at Sally as she fixed dinner.

Bob sat in front of the TV. He wasn't watching it, really. It was just a place for his eyes to go as his mind raced. He knew. What he didn't know was what he would do about knowing.

They had a quiet dinner. The conversation was stilted, and answers longer than a single word were rare. After dinner, Bob returned to his TV and Sally abandoned the dining room in favor of the kitchen.

This was their life now.

************

The "conversation" was nearing an end.

There wasn't much more to say that hadn't already been said.

She screwed up her face, as she looked into his eyes. 'One more shot at it,' she thought to herself.

"Give up, you just can't win." She paused, judging the situation, very keenly observing the impacts her words were having before she continued. "More than that, as I have repeatedly said, I don't want a divorce, and when you think about it, neither will you."

She looked pleadingly in her husband's eyes. He only needed to look at things with just a different set of "assumptions".

"Bob, we are good together, and we are good for each other. I love you, and you know you come first, always. We have always talked and been open and honest with each other, no matter what. We promised each other that right from our start. So, now, here I am, talking with you. I haven't done anything...yet."

She sat back, watching his reaction. She had skillfully played her hand.

"Have you any candidates?" His voice was calm, but he was feeling pretty beat up. This whole conversation was out of the Twilight Zone, but it did explain a lot as to why his wife had been so distant and dismissive of him.

"Yes, but only one," she said, looking him directly in his eyes.

From Bob's point of view, at that exact moment, shit got way beyond way deep and way serious. Bob didn't like it, no not one little bit.

"Does he know he is your "candidate"? asked Bob.

"We have talked," volleyed Sally.

Those words, coming out of her mouth, shocked Bob to his core. Bob's coffee was now cold and bitter. He took a sip, not taking his eyes off his wife.

"You talked!??!" Bob exploded. "Jesus Sally, you put him before me, before us? Fuck!"

Sally pulled back as Bob's true and deep--like, from his toenails deep--anger was given voice. Bob was getting pretty hot under the collar. He really needed to withdraw and gather his wits. That, or open a major can of whoop-ass on Sally. Bob, was concerned, as pissed off as he was, if he started, he didn't think he could stop.

"I have to think, and, and I need to get to the office." Bob said, though clenched teeth, heading out the door.

"That's totally fair. I love you," Sally said to his back, just before the door slammed.

Now that's a tough fuckin' way to start a day. Yep, that type of conversation pretty much portends a pretty shitty day.

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

As Bob drove into his office his head was a complete mess. He had not seen this coming. This is so not my wife, thought Bob. This shit was way outta left field.

Now, Bob always considered himself to be a thoughtful man. A reasonable man. Hell, he even considered himself as a progressive, open-minded, civilized man. However, Bob discovered he was, in fact, when it came to his wife, a very, very unreasonable man, a primal man. Sally was Bob's wife. Full stop. There was no way Bob was going to put up with this. It was just not going to happen. Period, end of discussion.

But Bob knew Sally well. She was smart, honest, good, caring...and damned stubborn. If Sally really wanted this to happen, it was going to happen.

Rock meet hard place.

"Damn," Bob muttered to himself, as he struggled to keep his attention on the road.

Bob sighed as he dug into the day's workload, pushing Sally and her shit off to the back of his brain. Bob often did this with intractable problems. He focused on the mundane, day-to-day shit, while deep in his brain the problem was being turned over and over. Like a Grandmaster chess champ, his mind ran out move after move, counter move after counter move.

By the time Bob walked in for dinner he had the beginnings of a plan. But, he needed more information. Going off half-cocked wasn't Bob's style. Bob believed that the first step in solving a problem was NOT even thinking of solutions. Bob knew if he jumped to "a fix", that would color what he knew with guesses and surmises. That's how you misled yourself and made mistakes.

So step one is: forget solutions, study the problem. Pull every loose thread, snoop down dark alleys and don't look at what you find with anything but scientific detachment. When you have clarity, you make your plan.

Then you strike.

After a very, very quiet dinner, Bob and Sally sat down in the large family room to chat.

"Sweetie, I have thought about what you said you want. I have some questions I'd like to get your thoughts on, okay?"

She nodded, watching him intensely.

"First, just to put it out there: I don't like this." Bob paused, gathered himself. Damn this was hard, he thought. Then he plunged ahead.

"Now, if you are determined to see this through, I have, as I said, some questions. You have someone in mind? Who? Does he know you are married? Is he married? If so, does his wife know? Is this a one-time thing? Will it be an ongoing affair? Do you plan to continue this behavior with more and other men!?"

Bob looked at his wife.

Sally looked at her husband.

*

A very pregnant pause entered the conversation.

*

"Well, let's see," Sally said. "Ok, I get you don't like this."

"Excuse me, Sally. Just to be clear, I do not support you doing any of this. Period," said Bob, forcibly.

"Ok, ok, I get it, you don't want this. I understand that, Bob. As to your questions, right now, I have only one man in mind: Sam Rager. I hadn't really thought about having other men. As to your other questions, yes, he knows we are married. I'm just not sure if he is, so I can't answer about his wife." Sally took a breath and continued on. "I don't think so. I'm not sure, and I hadn't considered that, so I'll have to get back to you on that point."

"God, Sally, you are really killing me here!" Bob broke down and started to sob.

"There there, sweetie. It will be alright. Trust me, it will be good for us." Sally leaned over, hugging her husband.

"Sally, I just don't see how this is in any way good for us," Bob said, tears streaming down his face. Each of her words were like rusty, jagged knifes plunging into him and twisting and twisting and twisting. The pain, for Bob, was monumental.

-------

A chill settled over Bob and Sally's house that night. Bob slept, fitfully, on the living room couch. Sally, slept a bit better. She was troubled by Bob's pain, but not enough to lose much sleep over it.

The next morning Bob didn't look well; he was sorta green around the gills. Sally, reasonably well-rested, was perky that morning.

"Good morning, darling husband." Sally smiled at Bob as she poured him some coffee.

"Sally, I have been thinking and I need more time to process. Let's talk again tonight. You will not do anything until we have talked, right?"

Sally took note of Bob's tone. It was just a tiny bit harsh. When she looked into his eyes, she saw a flash of his pain. That caused her tummy to flipflop a bit.

"Of course, Bob!" Sally cooed, and gave Bob a small, sad smile.

--------

Bob headed to work in a self-contained fury. A casual glance at Bob would have given nothing away of the seething white-hot anger that was building within him. However, were one to look into Bob's eyes, one would have clearly seen the volcano was about to blow.

Now Bob and Sally truly loved each other. They were each other's best friends. They would have served as THE example of a fully-functioning, self-aware couple that the marriage therapists would have pointed to as success. Well, up until now that is.

Bob walked into his house that night. Bob was hurting. He felt like a cornered, wounded animal. And Bob was mad as hell at everything and everyone. To say Bob was in a rotten mood wasn't even scratching the surface.

As soon as Bob saw Sally, he launched his missiles.

"So what I have done that is so wrong that you want to spread your legs for Mr. Sam Rager? Am I not a good enough lover? Don't I take good care of you? What does he have that I don't have? Why do you want to hurt me? Do you want a divorce?!!?"

Sally returned fire.

"God no, Bob. I don't want a divorce!" she yelled, stamping her foot. "I just...I have a...kink I want to try! Jesus Christ, Bob, it's just a walk on the wild side. Grow the fuck up!" Sally was getting fed up with Bob's foot-dragging. This was going to happen and Bob better get with the program!

"Okay, okay, okay, let's both calm down," said Bob, who then took several deep breaths. He continued. "Sally, okay, you say this is for YOUR kink. But, we are married. That automatically makes me involved. Further, I will not have my wife slutting around!"

"Bob!!" Said Sally.

"Shut up, and let me get this out Sally. If you are going to do this, I have some ground rules. First, I meet this Sam Rager. I want a clean bill of health, no STD's, and yes, he will wear a condom, at all times. Mouth, pussy and ass. You will have sex here, in our bedroom, in our bed. It is the safest most discreet place. I will be present to ensure that you are not hurt."

Bob, eyes bulging, the veins in his neck popping, his face red with fury he leaned into Sally's personal space and continued his rant.

"These are non-negotiable. Your safety and our reputations demand it. If you are going to cuckhold me, well, it's going to be under my rules. Period!"

Bob marched out the front door, slamming it behind him. It rattled all the windows in the front entry hall. Bob drove away in a blind fury.

It was about 3 a.m. when the Uber dropped a completely smashed Bob on his front lawn. Sally, who had waited up for Bob, rushed out of the house in her nightgown to help the drunk-off-his-ass, puking husband of hers into their house. It took her a while to get him up to bed and tucked in. It was a pretty painful experience for Sally, as she listened to the very drunk Bob, sob, and then bargain and threaten and plead and sob some more all the way to bed.

Sally looked down at her husband. He was hurting so very badly, but, sad as it was, she knew it couldn't be helped.

The good news was that he wanted to be there to "protect" (watch) her and Sam! Even more important, he had come home. That confirmed her thoughts (hopes and dreams) of Bob secretly wanting to be a cuckold. It was just as Sam had predicted. Sally knew at that moment she had won. She took a deep breath. She felt at ease. The hard part was over; soon it would be time to have some fun!

The next morning, as Sally was pouring poor hungover Bob some coffee, she spoke.

"Bob, your concerns and rules are both understandable, and acceptable. When you come home tonight, we can get the ball rolling. I love you sooooo much!" Sally said in a perky way with a great big dazzling smile.

Bob sipped his coffee, burning his tongue, looked even greener and just lowered his head, letting his pounding headache wash over him with its pain and misery.

Bob dragged his sorry ass to work.

Around 11, Bob's phone rang, it was Richard Hardcase, Bob's PI.

"Hello, this is Bob, how can I help you?"

"Bob, Dick Hardcase here. We have the lowdown on Sam Rager. First, that's not his only name."

Bob made notes as Dick rambled on, each new fact Dick tossed out, just another slap in Bob's face. As Bob hung up the phone he idly thought, "Enemy of my enemy..."

That night when Bob got home, Sally was dressed to kill. She had Bob's favorite meal hot and steaming, waiting for Bob. She rushed over to Bob, giving him a kiss with tongue and grabbing his cock. She smiled, backed away, and spun around.

"You like?" Sally gave Bob her "you're gonna get lucky, sailor" smile, then handed him a martini.

They had a lovely dinner. Sally was so attentive, so happy, it almost made Bob hurl. After dinner Bob smiled and had apparently thawed toward Sally, as she tugged him upstairs to their large master bedroom suite. She slowly walked across the McMansion's master suite to their bed, beckoning Bob to join her.

Once he got close, she pulled his pants down she dropped to her knees and gave Bob an exquisite blow job. It hardened angry Bob's cock right up.

Sally climbed on the bed, lay back spread her legs showing off her pussy (one of her best features she had always thought) and said in a cool sexy way, "Bob, take your pussy!"

Bob leapt on Sally and thrust deep into her with all his pent-up anger and pain. Hey, if she was gonna offer. Bob really tore Sally up. He fucked her pussy raw, then he started in on her ass. For the last act, Bob grabbed Sally by her long hair and slammed his cock, fresh from the ass, into her mouth. He slammed his cock into her throat. Sally was squirming and gagging; Bob used both his hands to grab her head and aggressively jammed his last inch in.

Then he took off face fucking Sally. For what seemed like forever to Sally she made noises, "gourr slloppp, ooorrr, guguguuu". Bob jackhammered his cock home, treating Sally as just a collection of holes. His last thrust drove cock savagely into her face, he went deep into her throat and exploded. Bob held her head tight to him until his cock softened. Sally squirmed, unable to breath.

When Bob let go of Sally's head, she slumped to the floor, sucking in deep deep breaths.

Sally's face was ruined, mascara ran from her eyes. Her hair had that "just fucked" look, snot dripping from her nose, drool from her lips. Sally was a fucked-out mess.

Sally looked up at her husband, but she did not see a benevolent loving face looking down at her. She saw a cold face, an angry face, a face that shook Sally to her core.

"Sally, it's pretty odd, but the idea of you being used by some ass...oh...another man, apparently turns me on, imagine that."

Bob walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. His rage? well, let's just say Bob was still just getting madder and madder.

Sally, still lying on the bedroom floor realized that maybe, just maybe she might have pushed things along a little bit too fast. But, she needed to have faith, this would all work out okay. Sam had assured her. She smiled. God how she loved how Bob had fucked her, just like Sam had promised he would.

"Oh, this is going to be fun!" thought Sally. Her smile grew bigger thinking of Sam's other promises.

The next day was Saturday. Bob and Sally were on their way to meet Sam for lunch. Sally had it all set up at one of the fanciest joints in town. When Bob and Sally arrived, Sam was already at the table. He had ordered drinks and lunch for everyone. He stood as Bob and Sally walked up.

Sam ignored Bob, but made a lot of noise to and about Sally; how happy she could meet him for lunch, what a nice dress she had on, how great her hair looked. He pulled out a chair for Sally. As Sally sat down, giggling, she looked like a school girl on her first date.

They both totally ignored Bob, who just stood there watching the two love birds in the middle of the crowded upscale restaurant.

Eventually, Bob sat in the unoccupied chair. Sam and Sally continued to chat and laugh. Bob, red-faced, sat in quiet rage.

When the lunch came, it was shrimp cocktails for Sam and Sally, followed by steak tartare, all washed down with a bottle of champagne. Sam hadn't forgotten Bob; he was offered a breadstick to go with his house salad, no dressing. On the upside, Bob's ice water had ice in it.

Finally, Sam turned to Bob and said, "It's your meeting. What do you want?"

Bob looked into Sam's eyes. "Sam, my first question is do you know Sally is married?"

"Oh, of course I do. So what? It's just you she is married to. That's nothing for me to concern myself with."

"You know I object to this?" said Bob, his rage just bubbling below the surface.

"Look, Bob, that doesn't matter either. I get to choose, you don't. Too bad so sad."

Sally giggled and slapped Sam's arm playfully. "Now Sam, you promised to be nice to Bob."

"Bob, just a couple of quick points for you. Sally told me about your, eh, conditions. For the record, I will fuck Sally anywhere I want, any way I want; after all she is my slut. I will never wear a condom, and if Sally gets pregnant, well that's on you and her to deal with. I, of course, will fuck Sally in your bed in your home. Thanks for the invite. Now, scram Cuckwannabe, and on your way out, pay the bill."

Sam turned away from Bob and played kissy face with Sally.

Bob didn't know what he had expected from Sam, but this wasn't it. Frankly, Bob's brain just stopped. It was a good thing seeing that they were in the middle of the fancy restaurant. Bob didn't make a noise. He didn't move. He was afraid that if he moved he would kill someone.

Soon after that, Sally looked away from Sam and saw Bob. His face was hard. Sally knew Bob, this had gone on long enough. If Sally were to push just a bit more she knew Bob would lose it. She looked back at Sam, then at Bob.

"Sam, it's been a lovely lunch, thank you so much for it. I will see you later. Bob, come on, let's go."

Sally insisted Bob pay for the lunch on their way out.

As Bob drove them home, Sally went on and on about Sam. Sam this and Sam that. How big his cock was. How pretty his cock was. Bob was a bundle of raging fury. As they pulled into the driveway Bob put the car in park and turned to Sally.

He just looked at her. She just kept on jabbering away. After about five minutes Sally realized they were home, parked in their circular driveway and Bob was just looking at her.

She turned to Bob, "What? What?" Sally said to Bob.

Bob spoke in a very calm low voice. Sally had to lean towards Bob to hear his words.

He said, "Honey, you were right. I am totally energized by you and Sam. The way he treated me, how he just took and didn't care about me. I was less than an afterthought to him. And you, hanging all over him, in public. Well, I can tell you that really revved me up. I have never felt this way before.".