Hard Lesson Learnt Pt. 03

This is the third part of my story. As usual, it will make more sense and give a better understanding if you have read the previous chapters.

Apologies for the delay in publishing this part but the life I am now living took various twists and turns and allowed me less free time to write about it.

The story is largely true, but names and locations etc. have been changed for privacy, and timescales have been edited to help the written story flow.

To summarize the events so far, I was a happily married and successful businessman. My wife, Rachel, is beautiful and sexy, but a little sexually naive, and way out of my league. We had a decent sex life, but I got diverted by watching and reading too much porn, which revealed some of my kinks. I then tried to convince Rachel that we should try those kinks to improve our sex life. She dabbled with some of my suggestions, but thought some others were extreme.

I then got caught up with an out of character, extra marital encounter with a stunningly attractive, supermodel like, employee, who was drunkenly thinking that sex with the boss might lead to an easy life at work. This employee, Hayley, had also revealed an underground life as a Home Website/OnlyFans porn star, a fact which I had mistakenly revealed to a hormone driven, masculine, alpha male, friend/client of mine. Due to her alcohol induced amnesia of the night that this all happened and with my friend/client, Gary, promising to keep quiet about the information he had, this whole Hayley situation had been put to bed. Or so I thought.

Gary had recently WhatsApp'd me numerous screenshots and videos that he had taken from Hayley's online sites. After looking at the content, several times, I had deleted them and asked him not send any more. I needed to not get hung up on this stunning woman, and concentrate on the stunning woman that I had at home, who loved me and supported my kinks to make me happy, even though she felt that the vanilla sex life that we had before was quite enough.

On the Monday following Gary's messages, I arrived home from work at my normal time, looking forward to seeing Rachel, who hadn't been in to work that day, and spending a relaxing evening at home. What greeted me as I opened the door though was a whirlwind of tears and fury, unlike anything I had ever seen from her. She was screaming, "You cheating son of a bitch, how could you, who the fuck is she?" I was totally caught off guard and didn't know what to say. My mind immediately went to my night of indiscretion with Hayley, when she had shown me her pussy, made drunken moves on me and I had responded by finger fucking her, licking her pussy and cumming in my boxers.

I was trying to gather my thoughts while Rachel was stepping towards me and shouting, "Well? You shit, who is she?" My thoughts were saying that it must be the Hayley incident, as there had never been any other instance of me being even close to cheating, but at the same time, how did she know? It wasn't possible. I was feeling pressure to answer, but my brain couldn't compute what to say, so I just burbled, "How do," came out first, but I stopped myself from incriminating myself, and managed the much more controlled and open question, "What..... What do you mean?...... Err,.......what?" Way to think on my feet!

"I knew you wouldn't deny it," she shouted, "anyone that is stupid enough to cheat on his wife, but then take pictures of the woman, posing for him and sucking his dick, is too stupid to have an excuse ready, or to deny it!" Now I was confused, "What pictures, I didn't take any pictures!" I said. Now there, in my response, was an admission that I had done something, but that I didn't take any pictures of the deed. It was something that Rachel didn't comment on at the time but was stored forever as my admission to cheating, as it would be brought up numerous times in the future. All she said was, "Really, not these pictures then?" and thrust her iPad toward me.

Now here is a life lesson for those, like me, that use technology but don't look too deeply at it. I now know, which I clearly didn't at the time, that the standard setting on WhatsApp is, for any photo or video media content that arrives on that platform, to automatically be saved to the Photo folder of your phone. A folder that I didn't check often. In turn, photos in this folder, automatically get uploaded to the Cloud. In our case, everything goes to Google Photo's. And there, in the Google Photo's App, on Rachel's iPad, were all the pictures and video's of Hayley, naked and in action, that Gary had sent me last week. Including the one that Rachel was now pointing at, with a shaking finger, Hayley blowing a cock and looking at the camera. Clearly Rachel didn't recognize that it was Hayley from work, or that this wasn't my cock which, although partly obscured, was clearly bigger than mine.

I could honestly deny what she suspected, "No, Honey, those aren't mine, I didn't take those pictures, that's not me!"

"Liar." She said, "who is it?" she asked again.

"Err, I don't know." I lied. I didn't think that revealing that it was Hayley would help my case, or how I had found out about her other activities.

"Bullshit, they can only have come from your phone."

"I don't know how. Gary sent them to me last week. I didn't take them, honestly."

"Show me!" she ordered.

"I can't, I deleted them, but it's the truth. That cock is too big to be mine, you know that!"

"Maybe, or maybe it's the camera, or maybe you get bigger for her because she does what you like!" She was still shouting.

"No, honestly, I didn't take them and that's not me."

She came back with, "You deny the photos, but you don't deny that you cheated on me."

"But no, I love you," was all that came out. I hadn't been able to lie and deny cheating.

The tears erupted again, "you piece of shit, get out!" she said as she walked across the lobby entrance and grabbed a case that had been standing by the wall. "There are clothes in there for work, you can go and stay at a hotel." I told her that I wanted to stay and talk, but she insisted that I go, she couldn't talk right now and needed time to think. I tried again, but the anger was swelling back up and rage was pushing the tears away. She started repeating, "Get Out, Get Out!!!" until I caved, picked up the case and went out of the door. It slammed hard behind me.

I put my case in the car. I wondered, while doing that, when had Rachel found the pictures. She had taken the time to pack a case and bring it downstairs, how long had she been waiting by the door, building up her fury. For a while, I just sat there, trying to understand how I had suddenly ended up thrown out of my own house and at risk of losing everything that I hold dear. I felt physically sick and was torn between going back in to the house to try and convince her all was OK, and giving her the time and space that she had asked for. I decided on the latter and headed off to find accommodation.

I took a room in a nice hotel on the far side of town. I wanted to be away from home and work, to reduce the chances of someone I knew seeing me and asking questions. After I had settled in to the room I tried to call Rachel, I wanted to try and talk and reassure here that I hadn't taken any photos and that Gary had sent them from some website, for no apparent reason, other than his obsession with women. I decided if the cheating question came up, then I would word my answer carefully and hopefully avoid admitting to anything. I could just insist that I hadn't screwed anyone. That part was true.

It didn't matter, she rejected the call, then followed it with a message telling me not to call her. She didn't want to speak at the moment, she would call me if and when she wanted to talk. I replied, telling her that I loved her and telling her again where the photos had come from. She didn't reply.

I went to work the next day as normal, trying to appear that nothing was wrong with the world. I hoped that Rachel might show up, and I could steal her away for a talk, but she didn't. I messaged her a couple of times and again, in the evening. She didn't reply to any message. Each day was a repeat, I didn't see, speak or hear from her. I struggled to concentrate on work and kept my door shut, explaining that I had some important work to do and should be disturbed as little as possible.

I did speak to Gary, later in the week, and told him what a shit storm he had created with his messages. He apologized at first and said that he hoped we could sort it out. He then asked me to let him know what happens, but there was a tone in his voice, almost hopeful. I thought that he is probably hoping we fail, and he would try and 'console' Rachel. I wouldn't put it past him.

By Friday, with no word from Rachel, I was getting very stressed, fearing the worst, and decided to take action. Despite her instruction, I had to go and talk to her. She needed to be convinced about the photos and, if it came to it, I might have to admit to what I had done, so that we could at least try and move past it.

I finished earlier than I normally would and drove to the house. On the outside, everything seemed normal, I parked and walked up to the front door. It was my house, but I didn't feel like I should just walk in. Maybe, I was traumatized by the last time that I just walked in., so I pushed the bell. It wasn't long before Rachel opened the door. She was in her slobs, a gray baggy tracksuit, with her hair scrunched up and wearing no makeup. The redness and puffiness around her eyes, that was very evident on Monday, had gone.

I steeled myself for a reaction, but she just said, "Oh, you'd better come in." and turned and walked away. I shut the door behind me and followed her to the kitchen. "Do you want a coffee?" she asked. I was a little surprised how calm she was, but I could hear that her tone was still downbeat. I just said, "Err, yes please." and she set about making it.

I waited for her to speak, I wasn't sure how to start now that I was here. I actually felt a little scared. "I thought you'd have been round sooner than this," she said, "where have you been? Have you been with somebody else?"

"No, there isn't anyone else. I've been at work and the hotel every night, waiting for you to call, but I needed to see you."

"Where's your case?"

"Still at the hotel, I came straight here from work, but I didn't decide until this afternoon."

She thought for a moment, then said, "Ok, you'd better call them and tell them that you aren't coming back over the weekend but to hold your room, you'll be back next week." I felt the need to clarify, "I'm staying for the weekend, but then need to go back?" I asked.

Her response made sense, and gave me some hope, "Yes, I've done a lot of thinking this week, and before you say anything, I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to try and work out what is true and what are lies. I think that we are going to be OK, we have some things to work out, but I think we will be OK." I felt relief, I took a full breath in, which seemed like the first time all week, and there was a weight off my shoulders. It's a phrase you here used, but then that it exactly how I felt.

She carried on, "Despite that, I am still not ready for you to move back in. Maybe this time next week, we will see. You turning up today though fits with the story I told Claire, next door. You know how nosey she is, well she caught me outside yesterday and asked where you were and why your car hadn't been here all week. Pretending to be concerned about you, but just digging for any potential gossip to spread. I just told her that you were away at a work conference for a couple of weeks. If you stay and go back to the hotel on Monday, it will look like you are just back for the weekend."

I nodded an agreement, "Okay, I understand. But, can I just say.", she cut me off. "I said that I don't want to discuss it. I have my thoughts on what you may or may not have done. You know what you have done, but I don't want to hear it from you. We will both be at home this weekend, but I still need time, so you will sleep in the spare room, and we'll avoid each other as much as possible in the day, and you head back to the hotel on Sunday afternoon. We'll then see where next week takes us."

I quit while I was ahead. She had said that she thought that we would be OK and while I was disappointed that things clearly weren't back to normal, I could survive another week with the hope that we could work things out.

The weekend went, as she had asked, with little contact. Separate rooms, upstairs and down. We offered each other drinks if making them. She fixed her own food without asking me, and refused when I offered to prepare something for her. Late afternoon on Sunday, she came and found me, "You should go now, I've put some fresh clothes in a bag. Please don't call me or message this week, complete radio silence, I think I know where we are headed, and we should be okay, but I still have some thinking and sorting to do. I will let you know when you can come back home. Not a minute before."

I was a little disappointed, I had hoped that I wouldst have to go back to the hotel but, I wasn't surprised, so agreed. She swerved my attempt to kiss her goodbye and led me to the door, where a holdall sat, presumably with my fresh clothes. She opened the door and stepped back, gesturing me out, saying, "I'll call you," and she shut the door behind me. Claire was on the front next door, looking over the bushes, I smiled and waved, calling out, "Hi, nice to see you, but I can't stop, I've got to make tracks back to the conference," and headed to my car. At least I had had a chance to back up Rachel's story.

I tried to focus a bit more on work this week, thinking it would make the time pass quicker, which it did. Twice I noticed Rachel's car appear in its usual parking spot. I didn't actually lay eyes on her, but hoped that she would come and speak to me. She didn't. I assumed that she was both, getting some work done, and keeping up appearances.

I had heard nothing, and we were now at Friday lunchtime, I had been getting more and more concerned as the week passed without contact, then, early afternoon, I got a message on my phone. It read, "Dave, what I found and suspect was very difficult for me. It has taken a lot to process, but I think I am now in a place where I can see the way forward. I still love you and don't want to say goodbye. I want us to work on the future, a new us! To that end, I want you to do exactly as I say. Leave work now and head to the hotel. Shower and shave, 'everywhere', check out of the hotel and come home. Be home at 7pm on the dot. If you are early or late, there will be consequences. Just reply 'Yes' if you understand and agree."

Obviously, I replied 'Yes' straight away. I was so relieved that we seemed to have a future together, she had asked me to come home. I then thought through the wording, "a new us," "a way forward," and then her instructions. She had dropped some orders and mentioned consequences for failure. Also, the 'shave everywhere' instruction. I thought I knew the implication there, and, assuming I was right, I would be getting home to a dominant wife. I wondered how she had gotten from 'stricken cheated on wife', 'to come home to me, with sexual implications' wife.'

Whatever the route she had taken, I was sure I would find out, and the wording of the message, along with my hopes for what lay ahead, stirred some activity in my boxers. The quick and easy move to enjoying an erection was aided by the fact that 12 days since I had cum. While in the hotel, during the first week, I had been so anxious and depressed about our situation that there was no inclination to relieve myself. After last weekend, when there seemed more hope, I had considered tossing myself off, as my balls filled up and my need grew, but I felt awkward about it. Almost as if I would be cheating on Rachel while she was going through a tough time, so I abstained.

I popped out a group email to my PA and managers, advising that I was leaving for the weekend and would be out of contact, anything urgent would wait until Monday. Then I left. I drove to the hotel, straight to my room and in to the shower, after shaving at the basin. I considered Rachel's instruction to shave everywhere, which I took to mean my pubic hair around my manhood. This area was always well trimmed but never fully shaved, with a wet razor, however I took that to be the implication, so lathered up. I was very careful and did a pretty good job. Everything was clean as a whistle.

Once dry I sorted a clean Polo Shirt, my last one, and some smart slacks. I didn't want to wear denim jeans for my return home. I wanted to be smart for her. I then made sure everything was packed up. Other than the shave, the whole thing was done in a bit of a rush, I was exited. I then realized that I had a specific arrival time, and I was about 2 hours too early. I didn't know what to do with myself, I tried TV but could find no interest there, I sat on the bed, looked out of the window countless times and paced up and down, a lot. Time was moving very slowly, so I left the room and checked out of the hotel I had missed Check-Out for the day so had to pay an extra night. I didn't care.

I put the bags in the car and headed off, I wanted to get closer to home, so to avoid any unexpected delays. When I got near, I stopped at a little bar that we use now and then. My stomach was churning, I think I was a bit nervous, but also realized that I hadn't eaten all day. So I went in and ordered a bowl of fries and a beer to help settle myself. It helped, and I left to finish the drive home, pausing down the road, so that I pulled in front of the house at 6:59 and knocked on the door at 7pm precisely.

Rachel was ready and waiting, she opened the door straight away, and my heart melted. She was in a dark blue silk house coat, which stopped mid-thigh, there were black stockings, I assumed, and some killer high heals. Her hair was salon done, and her makeup, as usual, was understated and classy. She was a far cry from the woman in slobs who opened the door this time last week. I just said, "wow, you look gorgeous." She smiled and said, "thank you for the compliment, now come inside. We need to get started."

"Started on what?" I asked. She just raised her eyebrows and opened the door wider for me to walk in.

She shut the door behind me and walked past me, telling me to follow. I did, watching her backside sway, with the silk wafting back and forth across. God, I'd missed her, it brought in to focus how lucky I was and how stupid I was to risk losing her.

She walked through to the den and pointed at one of the loungers there, "Sit down Dave." It was an instruction, no doubt about it, so I did. I noticed that iPad was set up on a side table, which had been moved in front of the chair, it was in selfie mode, so I filled the screen. She stood behind it, reached around and pressed record.

She spoke clearly, "David, I had a very difficult time since you left the house at the start of last week. I have processed a lot of information in that time, had some revelations, and come to some conclusions about how our lives should be, from now on. First, though, I want to ask you, to confirm to me that you do still love me and that you do want this marriage to continue."

She was looking me dead in the eye, my reaction was instant and natural, because it is true, "God, yes I love you with all my heart and I never want this marriage to finish. I will do anything to make sure that happens."

"Good," she said, "That's exactly how I feel. Now, I'm recording what we discuss because I want a record of what we agree."

"Okay," I said, wondering what was to be agreed.