Let the Punishment Fit the Crime

The emails chronicled how Bert maneuvered her from friendship and lunches to long lunches where they went to the Museum of Modern Art. Modern Art is one passion that Jean and I don't share. When she finally succumbed to his seduction one afternoon and allowed the kisses and caress to get intimate, he deflected her guilt and overcame it. He convinced her that nothing bad really had happened and tempted her to meet him again with tickets to a small gallery show that she desperately wanted to see. Then, a few weeks later he was able to finally complete her seduction and get her to meet him at a motel.

The emails also chronicled his efforts to subtly exert control. A good example of this was the way he got her to change the way she dressed. As their friendship grew and developed, Bert started his efforts to change how she dressed. He flattered her shamelessly as he told her how good she looked in certain outfits. Through his compliments he gradually got her to shift her clothing tastes to more closely match his desires. Occasionally, he would throw in the pointed compliment. How she looked great in that color skirt, but how it would look even better if only it was . . .. Hell, he even used me to get what he wanted as he told her how much I would enjoy it if she got some new sexy underwear and nightgowns.

The emails clearly showed the effort that Bert had put into seducing Jean. The remaining question was why. If I hadn't known Bert or talked to Kay, I might have believed that this was a simple case where Bert had fallen in love with Jean and had pursued here not caring that she was married.

It was the emails to his other women that convinced me otherwise. They were the real eye openers. Bert had had a total of four affairs: Jean; his secretary; Mindy, the wife of one of his co-workers; and the wife of a guy from Bert's country club. Kay clued me in. The co-worker was a guy who had beaten Bert out for a job a few years ago and the guy from the country club had opposed Bert's application for membership. Of the four affairs, three were with women married to men against whom Bert held a grudge. This was far too great of a coincidence for me to swallow.

Kay's hypothesis that he used his affairs to get revenge on people he didn't like seemed to be true. Bert seemed to get a perverse enjoyment out of cuckolding his enemies. To Bert, the affairs weren't about love or affection but about control. The more control he could exert, the better he seemed to like it. His emails to his other lovers showed the extent to which he tried to control them and unknowingly humiliate his enemies. He had tried some of the old cliches by asking his lovers to give their husbands sloppy seconds or cream pies.

Mindy, in particular, seemed to share his tastes. She eagerly accepted his suggestions on ways to further humiliate her husband. I didn't know if she was just playing along with Bert, but she made it clear that she had lost her respect for her husband. She even agreed to deny her husband sex unless he Okayed it.

To my relief, Jean had shot him down totally, the one or two times he had hinted that it would be exciting to do something that might act to humiliate me or possibly affect our family. She refused his suggestions that she shave for him. When he tried to convince her to change her perfume she wouldn't do it because I had helped her choose her old scent and it was my favorite. She flatly rejected to even consider his suggestion that they spend the night together at our house while I was out of town on a business trip and the kids were at their grandparents. Jean may have betrayed me by having an affair, but she remained conflicted. Even before I discovered the affair, her emails were full of angst and doubts.

Kay also gave me a copy of the files that had been encrypted on the computer. These were the final nail in Bert's coffin. Bert liked to take pictures of the women he was having affairs with and had some pretty explicit shots of him having sex with his secretary and the other two women he had seen.

Thankfully, there weren't many shots of Jean. The one time he had suggested taking photographs, she flipped out. He did have some candid shots of her undressing that he must have taken without her knowledge, but at least I didn't have to look at shots of her fucking the asshole. The worst I saw was a shot of her lying nude on the bed in a hotel room. He must have taken it from the bathroom. She had just had sex, but at least she didn't have the look of satisfaction I saw on her face after most of our lovemaking sessions.

It took me almost a week to go over the evidence Kay had discovered. By the time I finished, both Kay and I agreed to start bringing matters to a close. Kay had enough hard evidence to send Bert packing with just the clothes on his back. To her, the pictures were the final straw. She refused to sleep in the house with him any longer.

As a temporary measure, Kay was staying with a co-worker who had an extra room. She had told Bert that she had agreed to help out a friend that had been injured and needed temporary assistance. Her plan was to stay away until her attorney finalized the divorce proceedings and got a restraining order kicking him out of her house.

As for me, I was still conflicted. The emails had convinced me that Bert was the one who had caused the affair, but the level of intimacy that she had allowed him did bother me. Jean's one redeeming grace was how she had struggled to keep limits on the affair to keep it from affecting our marriage or me.

Jean's angst eventually convinced me that she did still love me. I decided that it would be worthwhile to at least attempt to save my marriage. I wasn't expecting it to be easy, but I owed it to the kids and to myself to at least make an effort.

The only decision to be made was how to bring everything to a close in a way that would further our goals. I still wanted to teach Jean an object lesson on how even a limited affair or hidden friendship could hurt her marriage and affect her relationship with me. I wanted to drive that lesson home so hard that she would never be tempted again. Once she learned that lesson, I would confront her and show her the evidence Kay had given me about Bert's other affairs. I don't think Jean would be too happy when she realized how and why Bert had been manipulating her.

We also wanted to figure out someway of getting some payback on Bert. Sure Kay and I discussed some vicious fantasies of taking our revenge out of Bert's hide, but they were just dreams. Let's face it; I was a typical modern man. I hadn't been in a fight of any kind since I left eighth grade. I'm not a black belt nor have I ever been in the Special Forces or the Seals. I didn't own a gun and hadn't shot one since summer camp. Physical payback was not a realistic option.

I will admit however, that Kay's idea of cutting his balls off with a dull rusty knife did have a visceral appeal.

Ironically, it was Jean's fear of getting caught that created the opportunity for me to teach her the lesson. It also caused her to do something incredibly stupid. After I "almost caught them", Jean flatly refused any effort on Bert's part to set up another lunch. She told him point blank that she could not risk meeting him because I might find out.

Somehow Bert managed to twist her fear around. If the danger was that I might catch them if they went somewhere public, then the solution was obvious, they would meet to have lunch somewhere private. Somewhere I couldn't possibly catch them. It took him some time, but he finally got her to agree to meet him at his house for lunch on a Saturday. He told her it was perfect because Kay was staying with her friend. Even worse, he convinced her to lie to me about where she was going by telling me that there would be no danger of my catching her if I was stuck home watching the kids. He even suggested the cover story of needing some time alone after a hard week at work.

When Kay and I discovered their plans, we came up with a counter. Kay was going to get one last piece of evidence; photographs of Jean entering her house. Then I was going to break up the lunch. I was going to call Jean's cell phone with a frantic message that I had been called into work immediately to deal with an emergency. I hated to ruin her plans, but she needed to get home immediately. I couldn't get to work because I was stuck home watching the kids.

The best part of the plan was the follow up. For the rest of the weekend, I was planning on spoiling Jean rotten. I was going to "make it up to her" for ruining her plans. I figured that Jean's own guilt would serve to punish her. Every time I mentioned her desire to get away it would twist the knife. It would remind her of her lies and deceit and pile on her guilt. I figured that by Monday morning, she would be miserable.

On Monday, Kay was going to lower the boom on Bert. He was going to get served with the divorce papers and restraining order at work. Monday evening, I was going to come home and tell Jean all about it. I was going to tell Jean that Kay had been suspicious of Bert for a long time and had hired an investigator who had gotten evidence of multiple affairs.

If the guilt hadn't made her miserable, then I was sure that the knowledge that she was about to be discovered would do the trick.

Jean built a base for her story all week. Every night when she came in she fed me another horror story about her week. Work had been hell, they had been short shifted and the floor had been loaded with demanding patients. I might have had some sympathy if I hadn't known that Bert was feeding her ideas and pushing her to ask me. Finally, on Friday night after the kids went to bed she asked me. Jean never would make it as a poker player; her anxiety levels were through the roof as she fed me her cover story.

"Hal, I've got a big favor to ask you." She said nervously. "After this week, I really need to get away by myself for a few hours. If I stay around you or the kids, I'm afraid I'll take it out on you. Can you watch the kids for a few hours tomorrow while I take some time for myself?"

Jean must have been nervous; she broke all the rules for effective lying. When I didn't say anything, she continued to ramble giving me details I wasn't asking for. She was going to go off for a walk in the park and then maybe have a quiet lunch or take in a movie.

I could have made her crack with a word, but that wasn't the plan. To tell the truth, she didn't seem all that excited about what she was doing. If I had shown any hesitation or suspicion or suggested a family alternative, I think she would have backed down and agreed to the change readily, but I didn't give that chance. I readily agreed to her request.

After I said yes, Jean did her best to wear me out. I'm sure it was her guilt in lying to me. Even if she was fooling herself in her justifications for going over to Bert's house, she couldn't forget the fact that she had lied to me all week. Subconsciously she knew that she was going too far again.

Although Jean is not a passive lover, most of the time, she lets me take the lead. That night, she was the aggressor. When I rolled over as if to go to sleep, Jean started to cuddle and give me not so subtle hints that she was ready to play. When I ignored the hints, she took matters into her own hands, or mouth as the case may be and wasted no time in getting me hard. Then she pushed me onto my back and started to ride for all she was worth.

That first time was just for me. She didn't try to prolong it or even try to get off herself. When I tried to slow her down she wouldn't let me. She demanded that I fuck her hard as she pistoned up and down on my shaft. Between thrusts she told me that she wanted me to get a quick one out of the way so I could fuck her long and hard later.

With the way that she was milking my cock, I didn't last long. I started to lift my hips thrusting up to meet her on each stroke. I could feel the tingle in my balls telling me that I was getting close. With a grunt, I lifted her off the bed and exploded into her.

Jean barely hesitated. When she felt my orgasm, she continued to rock for as long as I was hard enough to continue. When I slipped out, she gave a little cry of dismay and slid down the bed to bring me back to life. She didn't do this often, but over the past few months it had become part of her repertoire on evenings where she wanted to make it special for me.

It took her a few minutes, but she was able to revive me. Every few moments, she would pull back away from my shaft to smile up at me and ask me how I wanted her. Doggy style? On her back with her ankles beside her ears? Back in the saddle? Each suggestion got nastier. When I was ready, I told her to get on her knees.

My choice was to take her from behind. I wasn't sure if I could maintain my mien of ignorance about her plans if I was lying on her looking into her face as I pounded into her. It was easier for me to stare at her back grinding into her hips as I pulled her hard against me. I loved her, but knowing that the hot sex was the result of her guilt for lying was getting to me.

The first fuck had taken my edge off so I was really able to give her a workout. I wasn't being gentle, if anything I was ramming her hard in an effort to work off some of my anger. Jean didn't object. She winced at some of my harder thrusts but encouraged me to fuck her harder, as if the pain gave her some atonement.

That night, for the first time in our marriage, I didn't care if Jean got off. If I could have left her hanging, I would have, but she managed to cross the finish line just before I spurted. As I came down, I pulled out of her and collapsed beside her exhausted. She snuggled into me and whispered she loved me.

The devil inside me made me push her buttons just a little. "Wow." I moaned as I rubbed the sweat off my brow. "That was something. What did I do right to deserve a night like this?"

Jean looked at me and smiled. "Nothing special. That was just for being the best husband I could ask for."

"Are you sure it isn't because I said I would watch the kids tomorrow so you could have some time for yourself?" I inquired.

At my words, she froze and the guilt painted her face. My question hit far too close to home for comfort. I ignored her reaction as I zeroed in on one last dig before I left her to swing in the wind for the rest of the night.

"Don't you know by now that I'm glad to do stuff like this for you?" I murmured into her ear. "You are a wonderful wife and mother whoalwaysputs us first. I'm glad to be able to do something for you once in a while. I love you more than life itself. I don't know what I would do if you weren't by my side."

With that comment, I kissed her one last time and rolled over to go to sleep. With some satisfaction, I could hear her breath catch as she tried to avoid breaking down. I had gotten a good start on my plan. By the end of this weekend, I wanted her to be convinced that she didn't deserve me for a husband. I wanted her to feel like a total shit.

The next morning, Jean was still feeling bad. She even made a few tentative overtures to stay home, but I cheerfully brushed them off as I piled her guilt higher. I insisted that she take the time that she needed and not to worry about me or the kids.

I maintained my facade as she slowly got ready. Her clothing reflected her reluctance. She pulled out an older pair of underwear and a utilitarian bra she hadn't worn for months. The jeans and shirt that she wore were old and comfortable. She didn't dress to impress Bert.

With a final forced smile she kissed me and told me that she was going. As she hugged me, she searched my face for any sign that I didn't want her to go. I struggled to maintain a cheerful mask of bland ignorance. The part of me that has jumped to her defense over the last sixteen years wanted to comfort her and stop her from leaving, but I steeled myself to let her go. She needed to learn her lesson.

It wasn't until she slowly turned away and walked out to the car that I let my feelings show. Sadness filled my eyes as I watched her car pull out of the driveway and slowly wend its way down the street. With a sigh, I pulled out my cell phone and called Kay. She was already in position hidden down the street from her house.

Kay answered the call on the first ring. "Hello?" She inquired.

"Hi, it's me." I responded sadly.

"Don't go soft on me now, Hal." She warned in exasperation at the tone of my voice. "You know we have to do this. She needs to be taught a lesson too. You need to follow the plan or else it won't work. So, is she on her way?"

"Yeah, she just left. Is everything set? Do you have a good view?" I responded trying to pull myself out of my self inflicted doldrums.

"Yup," Kay responded. "I have a perfect view of the street, the front door and the garage. It's going to be a piece of cake to get the shots we need."

"Great. Give me a call when they get there and you get the pictures." I was trying hard, but the whole thing bothered me. At some level I felt like a cuckolded bastard. Regardless of why I had done it, I had just knowingly let my wife leave the house to meet another man who had already hung the horns on me once and was actively working to do it again.

Kay could sense that I was still having a hard time. "Hal, remember, Bert's not going to get a chance to touch her. We've got it all planned. Besides, I'm right down the street. I promise you that if she isn't out the door running after you call her, I'll walk in on them. I promise you, nothing is going to go wrong.

"Hal, you've got to pull it together before you call her. If she hears you sounding like this, she'll figure it out. If you want her to learn her lesson, we need to let her sweat for a while."

When I didn't respond, she went on determinedly. "Look we'll talk about this some more when I see you at the office in a little while. I'll call you back as soon as she gets here."

"Right. Hopefully, this will all be over with soon. Bye."

I hung up the phone and stared at the wall thinking about what Kay had just said. Jean's attitude that morning had made me reconsider whether the plan that Kay and I had concocted was necessary or workable. Jean had not acted like someone who was looking forward to being with her lover. Rather, she had dragged her feet as if looking for a way out.

The question was why. Was it just guilt or was she finally getting a clue that her clandestine relationship with Bert was affecting our marriage. Had my comments last night woken her to the fact that she was betraying me even if I didn't know about the affair?

I couldn't be sure. I needed to keep with the program. Jean's lesson had to be so severe that she would have no chance of ever forgetting it.

I was still staring at the wall, thoughts running circles aimlessly in my brain reflecting on how my life had gone to shit when I was startled back to reality by the phone. It was Kay; Jean had arrived and had entered the house. Kay was going to stay in position to get more photos of Jean's leaving.

The plan called for me to wait for ten minutes or so before I called. If I called too soon, it might tip Jean off that something was up. I didn't care if Bert suspected something, but Jean was already spooked. I needed her to believe that my call was a coincidence, not a deliberate effort to break up a suspected tryst.

The next few minutes seemed to last eons. I sat there tensely staring at the clock willing the second hand to move faster. Intellectually, I knew that nothing was happening between Bert and Jean, but tell that to my heart. My mind was filled with images of Jean tearing off her clothes the second the door closed.