My Cheating Husband Ch. 03

The morning was tense for Brad and me. I was secretly looking up exercises to burn calories fast, how to properly diet and portion my food, helpful tips for weight loss. Meanwhile, my husband was glaring at me staring at my phone. "So," he huffs, "What, uh... What are you doing on your phone there?" he questioned, offended. Is he jealous of my phone or something? I thought.

I was embarrassed about going to the gym, and I felt like I could keep secrets too if he was himself. At the very least; so I joked, and said in a matter-of-fact tone I was watching porn. Brad scoffs, knowing my disdain for porn and the fake actresses, the whole vibe. So he asked again more seriously. "None of your business," I replied. In a fit, he lunged forward, trying to take it! I was genuinely appalled by this, jumping back. How dare he try to take my phone away? I felt anger bubbling inside of me as I saw him staring daggers into me.

"I am your husband, Emma, I have a right to know if there's something going on I should know about." Where the fuck does he get on about that? He's the one cheating, and oh how I felt the burning desire to blurt that out. But I beat that strong desire deep down. I just pushed my chair out, storming out of the house with my car keys. He yelled behind me that he's sorry. My husband tried to rush me while I was going to my car, but it was no use. I was steaming in the driver's side, buckling and engine revving towards the gym.

I got a few texts from him apologizing, how he knew how dumb that was, and to please come home. I didn't bother, I need to sweat out my anger. I changed inside the lady's locker room and ventured out in a loose long t-shirt and spandex pants. First, I wanted to get some cardio in. Next, maybe some weights to build muscle. Then, maybe cardio again; I don't know, I haven't exercised since high school when it was a requirement. I'm really just hoping I do this right.

My insecurities and anxiety overcame my anger as I step inside the intimidating iron jungle. I couldn't recognize what half the equipment did here, so stuck to the treadmill. My anxiety made me self-aware and more in tune with my surroundings. Which person was on what machine; what they were saying, if they were talking about the fat, lard whale on the treadmill. In the corner of my eye, I noticed a fit convivial older woman making stops, chit-chatting with the other sweaty gym-goers.

That's when she came up to greet me, catching me off-guard. "I'm not some weirdo," she laughs, totally not being weird right now. "I'm a personal trainer for this gym. If you need help just let me know," she smiled warmly.

"Actually," I heaved, stepping off the on-going treadmill. "I do. I'm new here, and, I wanted to get fit but I don't know how to start," I admit shyly.

The woman reaches a hand on my shoulder, and the other to offer as a handshake. I grab hers, and she replies, "You're already starting. My name's Lynn-lemme show you the basics about losing weight I think you'll benefit from." She takes me under her toned, chiseled arms and relays to me what every newbie should know. She tells me it's mostly about the food and not the exercising. Dieting and how to replace unhealthy food cravings with healthy ones; getting rid of bad eating habits such as eating past 8 PM, especially heavy meals; eating irregularly, and snacking more. I'm fascinated at how ignorant I was to my lifestyle and how it's so unhealthy and self-destructive.

"Now... You don't have to tell me if you're not comfortable, but what's your motivator. Why do you come here," she asks.

Normally I'd probably lie and say, "To get a beach body," or something generic. But Lynn seemed was getting so personal felt so genuine, I confided to her in secrecy. "My husband," I sighed. "Is... Cheating on me," I mumbled.

"Oh..." Lynn trailed. She offered a hug and I took it as I felt tears prickling. "I understand," she coos as she rubs my back. "It's so hard to accept that than actually admit it, but you're not alone, dear. I was a victim, too. With my own sister," she revealed. Lynn leaned back, looking at the floor. I could tell in her spaced-out eyes she was reliving those life-changing moments when you find your spouse wasn't who you thought you married. "Funny enough, that's how I got into this," Lynn chuckled.

"After the messy, vile divorce, I was in a rut. Was so depressed I couldn't get up out of bed. I felt like how you do now. My shit ex-husband took my friends and sister along with the house; felt like the whole world was against me. Thank God we have family, though, and I got full custody of my daughter. Turned around my life for the better. My parents refuse to talk to my sister again until she apologizes; still, after a decade, doesn't think she did anything wrong," she scoffs. I listened intently as it seemed she herself needed to rant to someone. "It's unbelievable how people are. Just shows you how vile some can be, pretending to be loyal; when they're just a wolf in sheep's clothing." At this point, we were in somewhere more private to talk. "Do you have a family?" she asked.

I nodded. "Mother, father, sister, a whole extended family, but... I don't really talk to them anymore," I shrugged. I answered the question I knew was coming up. "My mom was emotionally abusive towards me," I recounted. "She was so bitter, always tearing me down. Even my father never really acknowledged me. Sometimes I just thought I was a burden," I laughed in melancholy. "It's why we had a small wedding with only my husband's family and friends being present."

"What about your sister?"

I thought about her briefly. "Eh... We didn't really have much of a relationship. She was kind of stand-offish, but didn't go out of her way to be a bitch like mom. We had a 10 year age gap. She was younger, and had a different schedule than mine. Maybe that's why we never connected? I dunno. All I know is, right after earning my diploma, I took an internship at the company I work full-time at now."

"Do you think you could call her up and catch up? I feel like it's important for family to stick together and strengthen bond. It might help you if you have a shoulder to cry on and sisters are irreplaceable." I considered it. We didn't really have fights or arguments. Maybe there was room for a relationship, I perked. I hugged Lynn, and thanked her for all her advice and sharing her life experiences with me. She gave me her number and stressed that I call her if I need her for support, emotional or physical. I accepted happily, and drove home, switched out of my gym clothes.

I saw no other car in the driveway, but expected to see something. I was gone for maybe two or three hours, giving himself enough time to booty-call someone. I crept around the exterior of the house, focusing on where my husband and one of his other toys may be. I was revoltingly intent on catching him so much I was practically depersonalized. Was this even me, in the backyard, attentively watching a young woman squirming on the couch while my husband was in between her legs. I could only imagine how it felt to her, crying out in bliss as a married man lapped her young, taut pussy. I saw at this angle his cock twitching in anticipation as this girl smiled, lips agape and moaning. I'm invested at this deviance, wet and aroused, yet hand staying cupped on the glass.

Having had enough foreplay, she kicked my husband on the living room floor with her small barefoot. She crawled on top of him like a cat on its prey. She positions his cock under her and sinks down on it. The confident blonde intensely bucked her hips like a pro, riding my man like a horse. My husband gave her this possessing look and surprises her by flipping her on her back. He assumed control by pinning her wrists down and slamming his hips into her. High-pitch moans rang through the house and seep through the glass-door I'm watching from. I can hear, "yes! Yes! Yes! Fuck me harder!" Then-in one thrust-stops, pulls out, and reconfigure her so she's all on fours. They fuck like rabid dogs in heat, completely uninhibited. And yet, I come back to my senses and feel the weight of the situation falling on to me.

I couldn't continue watching like this, I felt. I sensed my stomach churning while I made my way to the front of the house. I sat on the sidewalk, mind aloud with so many cacophonous thoughts. I was just going to call up Lynn after I remembered the card she gave me, when a stranger interrupted me. I glanced to my right and noticed a worried, middle-aged woman standing above me. "Hi, I'm your neighbor. I know we don't talk much, but I'm worried about my daughter," she confided, extending her hand.

I stood and shook it, now in deep concern for her. "What does your daughter look like?" I asked, hoping I could help track her daughter and bring her back.

"Well, she's thin, blonde, average in height. She still must be wearing her school uniform, she attends a local Christian private school, and hasn't come home yet. It's been an hour since school let out and she hasn't texted me yet." I didn't let on, but I snapped in realization, putting two and two together. But maybe I was wrong, the girl my husband is currently banging could be any young blonde woman. To be safe, I asked for her age and a picture of her. "She turned 18 last week. Lemme get my phone, I take so many pictures of her," she says going through her pockets.

I reflect on what I saw versus what I was hearing. At the very least, she was 18, but obviously still doesn't justify his behavior at all. That's why I say at the very least. I chew my lip as she scrolls through her phone and reveals what she looks like. My heart sinks. She looks exactly like the girl inside my house. Suddenly, the neighbor's phone starts ringing in her hand. It's displaying my husband's phone number! But she doesn't know that because it's unsaved. She excuses herself and picks it up, hoping it's her daughter.

"Hello? Jessica? Oh my God, I've been so worried, I almost had to take my heart pills! Really? Well..." she sighs, fingers tiredly combing through her hair. "I'm glad you're safe and all, but you have to take better precautions next time. I know it's not your fault, but I expect better in the future. I'll see you at home. Love you," and hangs up. She turns to me, incredulous but half-smiling, "Well, that was just my daughter. She called me on her friend's phone to tell me her phone died on her way home and, wouldn't you know, the bus broke down. My goodness, I was so terrified," she laughed, relieved. If only she knew what was really going on behind closed doors. She thanked me for my help anyway, and watched her go back inside.

Curious, and a little angry, I return to where I was and found them deeply kissing in the foyer, embracing each other. The girl, Jessica, was now wearing her uniform while my husband was still stark nude. They shared a couple more deep kisses, not willing to pull away from each other but they do. She leaves with a confident smirk on her face after having a couple seemingly powerful orgasms with my husband. I sneak to the side to peek and watch her saunter her mom's house. I can only imagine how satisfied Jessica feels right now, thinking she got away with sleeping with another man, a married man on top of that (that is if she knows); how her mom still thinks of her as this innocent, virgin that wasn't just begging for my husband's cock.

Maybe she's sitting at the dinner table with her family saying grace, hands clasped together in prayer. Her thoughts are not with God, but how her married, older neighbor filled her warm tightness with his succulent inches. I thought about that in the steamy, warm tub, shower head pressed against my clit as I rubbed one out. I felt the stress in my shoulders melt after one hell of an orgasm. However, my heart sunk as this time tonight my husband turned his back to me in bed.