Did My Wife Fuck Tyler Jones?

This is a re-post

This is a work of pure fiction. All names, locations, and situations are figments of my imagination.

***

Do I believe her when she admits it or when she denies it?

It had been a fun evening. We ate dinner at a nice restaurant then we decided to go downscale a bit and went dancing in a bar neither of us had ever been in; The Foggy Coast Bar. We both worked in an upscale place further from downtown. We had heard that the drinks at The Foggy Coast were honest, the music good, and the dance floor big. I never tired of spending time with her and tonight was no exception. As a matter of fact, it was more fun than usual because she had been drinking. She rarely has more than two drinks during the course of an evening, but tonight she had four. I don't know what brought on the desire to drink that night, but as I said, it was fun. She was a happy drunk and I was curious to see how her being drunk would affect our sex that night. I was looking forward to finding out.

We both love to dance and had done our share. As usual when we went out, she was hit on by several men who wanted to dance with her. And, again, as usual, she turned them all down.

As we left the bar, she struggled with her coat, hit herself in the head with her purse when she had it in her hand and tried to put that hand through the sleeve of her coat and got frustrated when it wouldn't fit. Then she tripped going out the door and fell into my arms. I caught her and she looked up at me. She tripped a couple more times, but we made it to the car.

"You're my hubby, right?" She asked as I struggled to get her in the car. I was beginning to think that sex was probably out for the night.

"Yes, I am," I said, laughing.

"I fucked Tyler Jones," she said then giggled.

"What did you say?" I looked at her and she had passed out.

I got her home and put her to bed. I had undressed her often over the previous three years and it never ceased to amaze me how nice her body was. She liked sleeping in the nude so I left her like that. Tonight was different, however. As I undressed her, I couldn't help but wonder if Tyler Jones, whoever he was, had undressed her and put his hands on her breasts, her ass, or her pussy. If she had fucked him, did she also give him a blowjob? She loved giving them. Did he cum in her mouth? If he did, I know she swallowed. She loved to swallow.

I didn't sleep much that night, but she did. She didn't wake up until noon the next day.

I had just brewed myself another cup of coffee. Actually, brewed is too strong of a word. I put the little pod in the individual cup coffee maker and pressed the button and coffee filled my cup. I then added some Bailey's to it and sat at the kitchen island sipping on it. It was my fourth cup of the day. My normal limit is two.

Lenny, Short for Lenora, came stumbling into the kitchen still naked. She put her own pod in the coffee machine, put her cup under the dispenser and stood waiting for her cup to fill. When it did, she picked it up, walked and sat on the stool beside me.

We sat there deep in our own thoughts drinking our coffee. I spoke first.

"Who's Tyler Jones?"

"What?"

"Who's Tyler Jones?"

"Uh, I don't know."

"Are you sure?"

She just looked at me. "Why?"

I took another sip of my coffee before I spoke. "Because last night before you passed out you told me you fucked him."

"I what?"

"You told me you fucked him."

"Andy," That's my nickname. Andy, short for Andrew. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

I'd known Lenny for almost four years. We had been married for the last three, well, almost three. I was a bartender... still am, as a matter of fact. She was a server at the same establishment. I had worked there over a year before she started. We tried to work the same shifts, but it didn't always work out that way. Sometimes I worked days and she worked nights, and vice versa.

Shortly after she started working there, she and I had our first date. Less than a month after that, we had sex for the first time and have had it at least four times a week since.

I just looked at her.

She spoke. "Goddamn it I was drunk and we've both seen enough drunks to know they are subject to say anything."

And most of the things they say are true, I thought.

We sat in silence finishing our coffee.

"I'm going to get dressed." She said with an attitude as she took both of our cups and, as she normally did, washed them and put them on the sink to dry. I always enjoyed watching her do that because her tits jiggled as she washed them and I loved watching her tits jiggle. But that morning she washed them with more vigor making her tits jiggle more; but I didn't appreciate it. In my mind, I saw Tyler Jones with his hands on them bouncing them back and forth.

We didn't talk much that day or that evening at work. Some people believe that living and working together puts a big strain on marriages, but it hadn't seemed to in our case. Until now. The next two days were the same. Very little speaking, no touching and no sex. At work, it seemed to me that Lenny was spending more time than necessary with some of her customers; but maybe it was my imagination.

Finally, I said. "Okay I've had enough. I either want our life back or this marriage is over."

"I agree," said Lenny. "I'm tired of you looking at me like you're wondering when I'm going to take the next customer out back and fuck him, so say what's on your mind."

"Okay. 'In vino veritas'."

"What?"

"In wine lies the truth. Almost every civilized culture in the world has a saying similar to that because they have all experienced the fact, THE FACT, Lenny, that from the mouths of children and drunks you will hear the truth. You said, 'I fucked Tyler Jones'. You had no reason to say it and I've never suggested you've slept with anybody else since we've been married, but there it was plain as day, out of your drunken mouth 'I fucked Tyler Jones'. If it was before we were married, that's okay. If not, we have a problem."

"Then we have a problem because I don't know why I said it or even IF I said it?"

"What do you mean 'if' you said it? Of course you said it. Why would I pick that name out of thin air and lie about something like that?"

"Tell me why I should believe you, Andy. Apparently, you don't believe me, so it appears we have a stalemate," she said.

"Yeah, I guess we do."

The stalemate continued for another week. For the first time since the beginning of our relationship, we didn't have sex.

We both had cars. Older model cars because we were saving to buy a house, but I was planning to surprise her with a new car for Christmas. That week, because of the stalemate, we had driven to work separately. On Thursday when I got to work, I kept waiting for her to show up, but another server was working Lenny's usual tables. I called the night manager over. "Gill, why is Kathy working Lenny's tables?"

"Because she called in this morning and took the day off."

"She didn't tell me anything about it." I said.

"Maybe the two of you should communicate better."

We were busy and I couldn't call her so I waited until it slowed down. I took a break and called her. No answer. Right to voice mail. Nine-thirty at night and she didn't answer her phone. I looked up to see Gill headed my way.

"Gill, Lenny doesn't answer her phone. I think I better go home and find out what's going on."

"That's a good idea. She just called and quit. Said she wouldn't be back."

"I have to go." I was on my phone as I took my coat off the hook and buttoned it against the cold air. She still didn't answer.

I unlocked our apartment door and went in. She wasn't there. A search of the apartment found that some of her clothes and her makeup case were missing.

It was almost midnight when I called her parents. "Have you heard from Lenny?" I asked when her father answered.

"We have."

"Where is she?"

"Probably at Charlotte's, Andy. What's going on?" I gave him the short version. "You two better get your act together before it's too late."

I called Charlotte. She and Lenny had been best friends since they were three. No answer, so I left a message. "Please ask Lenny to call me."

Obviously, the stalemate had been broken and she had made the first move. I kept going over in my mind what I could have done differently and always had the same result. Nothing.

She got drunk and said what she said. I believe I reacted the way the average husband would have.

I lay on our bed and tried to sleep. No luck. I got up and tried to eat. No luck. About mid-morning, I called her brother.

"Sorry, Andy. The only thing I can tell you is you really stepped on your dick."

I called Charlotte again.

"Hello, Andy." She said.

"Have you heard from Lenny?"

"I have."

"Do you know where she is?"

"She's here with me."

"May I talk to her?"

"Not right now. She's really pissed and disappointed that you don't believe her."

"Believe her when? When she says she fucked him or when she denies she fucked him?"

"Don't be an asshole."

"Asshole? What am I supposed to do? Tell me what I'm supposed to do?"

"You can believe her."

"Goddamnit, I just asked you do I believe her when she admits it or denies it?"

"You need to get your shit together, Andy, or your marriage is over."

"Get my shit together? She started it. She needs to prove to me she didn't fuck this guy."

"Exactly how does she do that?"

"I don't know. Take a lie detector test, swear on a stack of bibles, something... anything! I don't care how she does it."

"Bullshit. Maybe you should prove that she did it. Innocent until proven guilty. Right?"

"But she fucking confessed!"

"I told you to get it together Andy, or your marriage is over." She hung up.

'Maybe you should prove that she did it.' That's what Charlotte had said. At eleven, I called in to work. Gill was not there but the day manager was. I told him the story and that I needed some time off.

He had already heard part of it from Gill. "How much time?"

"At least a week, maybe more. I have a lot to figure out."

"Well, you and Lenny were scheduled to be shifted back to days next week but we can make do for a while. Take two weeks. We'll charge it to your vacation time. We'll see about more if you need it. I'll clear it with Gill."

The first two days I was off, I struggled to make sense of my new world. I tried calling her a few times but without success.

'Maybe you should prove that she did it' kept going through my mind. I developed a plan... it was a desperate plan, but it was a plan. I went to the library and looked up every high school yearbook for the year she and I graduated and two years before and after. I read every word on every page of every book looking for any reference to anyone named Tyler Jones. It took me three full days but I found three of them.

At home, I looked online to see if their schools had reunion committees. They did. They also had bios of everyone and where they were now and what they were doing. They even included places of employment for most of them.

The first Tyler Jones worked in Washington, D.C. so he would be difficult to chat with. His bio showed that after graduation he went to The Ohio State University and immediately after graduating from there went to Washington to intern for some member of congress. The other two still lived locally. One sold cars and they named the dealership. Some car salesmen, I understand, tend to bounce around like some truck drivers, never staying long in one place so I didn't know if he was still at the same dealership shown in his bio.

I stood in the customer service area of the automobile dealership listed as being Tyler Jones' place of employment. One of the mechanics walked by and I asked him if Tyler Jones still worked there. He did. Then I asked the same mechanic to point him out for me if he was around. He wasn't on the showroom floor, but was outside talking to a prospective buyer.

I thanked the mechanic and left. I knew I was taking a chance but I left and returned shortly before they were scheduled to close. I was lucky; he was still there. When he left, I followed him. He stopped at a local watering hole not far from the dealership and went in.

I waited a few minutes and followed him in. There was an empty stool beside him and I sat.

As men at a bar will, we started talking. "I'm Andy Buckles." I stuck my hand out for him to shake. I watched his face to see if I detected any sign he recognized the name.

"Tyler Jones," he said. We ended up spending a couple of hours chatting and buying each other drinks. This went on for two more evenings. Drink and chat. This guy was smooth. I got the impression he could talk anybody into anything. I bet he sold a lot of cars. He was funny, sharp, and handsome. I almost liked the guy. I decided that too many evenings in a row could look strange so I stopped for a while. I still had some time off so I looked up the third Tyler Jones.

This guy was a TV News producer but I couldn't get into the TV Studio to see him. I made a copy of his senior picture and, like I did with the other Tyler Jones, sat outside where he worked to see if I could spot him. It was after nine in the evening on my second night of watching that I recognized him. He had gained about a hundred pounds, but it was him nevertheless. There was a car waiting for him and he got in it, leaned over and gave the driver a long, slow kiss. They broke that kiss then kissed again. Then the driver started to pull out. He turned his head to look over his shoulder to check traffic. At that point, I eliminated that particular Tyler Jones as a possible sex partner for my wife.

So back to concentrating on the other Jones. During the course of our bar conversations, I learned that he had been divorced for almost three years and had two children. The divorce was basically his fault. He had a drinking problem and his wife got tired of it so she kicked him out.

He missed his kids and didn't see them often. He still drinks, but maintains that he hasn't been drunk since right after the divorce. He deduced that he was drunk all the time because she drove him to it. She was hot and the sex was as well, but she 'drove me fucking crazy so I drank a lot' he told me. He's a lot happier not being married.

"Look at all the people on the Andy Griffith TV show," he said. "They were all happy except one. Do you know why? They were all single. The only unhappy one was Otis and he was married so he stayed drunk."

At times, I almost forgot who he was. His personality was a winning one. If he was telling anywhere near the truth he had more pussy than any five men I know... at least according to him. But I still had to find out if one of those pussies belonged to my wife; and if it was, why would she pick him to fuck? Why would she need to pick anybody to fuck? There had never been any indication that she was unhappy with our lives or our sex routines. I certainly wasn't unhappy with either.

I knew, of course, that she got 'hit on' virtually every day she worked, but I never had cause to think she took any of it seriously or acted on it.

I'd had enough time off work and was ready to go back. I called and was told I was on day shift and could start back the next day. I worked a full shift and it felt good to be back although I caught myself looking around trying to find Lenny waiting tables.

I still made an effort to talk to her, but to no avail. I was beginning to wonder if she was doing anything to help save the marriage. I also wondered if she was going out with other men.

One night I was off so I sat outside Charlotte's house and waited. Lenny and Charlotte came out, got in Lenny's car and left. I followed them but got caught in traffic and lost them. I went back to Charlotte's house and waited. They came back about three hours later loaded with packages. I got out and approached them.

"Lenny. Lenny. We have to talk."

"The only thing I want to hear from you is an apology. Otherwise stay away from me and quit stalking me or I'll get a restraining order.

"Lenny, please, listen. I have a couple of options we can talk about."

"No, you fucking listen. Apologize or stay away from me. Those are the only two options I'm interested in."

With that they went in the house. I got in my car and left.

I was still working days and decided to go back and spend more evening time with Jones. He was there about half the times I was. I supposed he came in when he didn't have a pussy to go to.

It had been several days since I had seen him and we greeted each other like old friends.

One evening, we watched as a couple came in. We watched because the woman was nothing short of spectacular in every respect. If there is a perfect figure, she had it. If there is a perfect hairstyle, she had it. If there is a perfect dress, she was wearing it. Okay, she was almost wearing it. It showed more of her than it concealed. Low cut in both front and back... really low cut. Her nipples were clearly visible trying to poke holes in the dress. Like the lyrics of the old song, 'She was hotter than a two-dollar pistol'.

Neither one of us said anything as we watched them cross to a table and sit. When she did, she crossed her legs and the slit in her dress revealed a leg almost up to her hips. I suddenly remembered how long it had been since I saw bare legs and stiff nipples. My dick got hard.

"Holy mother of God," Jones barely whispered.

"Amen," I responded.

"I've had my share of women but, shit, she is probably the nicest thing I have ever seen." He called the bartender over. "Who the hell is that?"

"That's Mike and Vicki Hairston. He's one of those personal injury lawyers you see on TV. Once in a great while they come in here for a drink or two. He just likes to show her off to those of us in the unwashed masses."

I hadn't paid any attention to him because of her, but now I looked and did recognize him from his TV ads.

Jones spoke. "My ex-wife is no slouch, but the closest I've ever come to having something as nice as that," he nodded in the direction of Vicki Hairston, "started a few months ago."

"Started?" I asked.

"Yeah. I stopped in a place I'd never been before. My waitress was hot. Not in the same class as Vicki over there, but hot. My first time there was okay. She and I chatted a bit, but nothing else. She was wearing a wedding ring, but that had never stopped me before. Lots of married women are looking for strange dick. Some of them don't even know it, so I try to help them along, and convince them that every woman needs a different man once in a while. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. I asked her if she was happy in her marriage."

"Of course, but it seems we never do anything other than work and go home. Sometimes dinner and dancing. So sometimes when he works nights, and I work days, I go out and party.

"As soon as she told me that, I knew I was going to fuck her. Women who go out alone and party when their husbands are working are my favorites. Subconsciously they are looking to get fucked; it's just a matter of time and opportunity." He took a sip of his drink, then continued. "By the fourth time I was there, she had agreed to meet for a drink. That drink date led to other short dates. We had dinner a couple of times. We even went out dancing. That girl would rather dance than fuck, I believe. And when we danced, oh, my God. It didn't happen at first, but later she rubbed herself all over me and when she felt my hardon, she rubbed harder.

"And it was interesting because we did the same things she said she and her husband did and she seemed perfectly content.

"We have to be careful because of her husband, so we only see each other when they work opposite shifts. If he works days, we see each other then. It was when he was working one night that shit really got hot."