My Wife Cheated

This is a re-post

*****

It was about thirty minutes earlier than I usually got home, but my boss and I both ducked out early on that Friday.

An SUV I didn't remember seeing before, was backing out of my driveway as I turned into it. Carol, my wife was in the front passenger seat. The rear passenger window opened and the head of my ten-year-old daughter, Cheryl, appeared. I opened my window, smiled and waved at her. But instead of her returning the smile and wave, I heard "We hate you!" as the SUV headed down the street. Somewhat taken aback, I wondered what brought that on. Oh, well, I'd find out when they returned. I pulled into the garage, got out of my car and went in the house.

Carol and I had been married for 12 years. It was her second marriage. Her first lasted only two years and ended when she walked in and found her husband cheating ... in their house.

It was my first marriage and I was not a cheater.

When I talked to her earlier in the day, Carol had mentioned needing a couple of things, so when I saw them leaving, I assumed they were going shopping. I also assumed that since she was in the passenger seat, one of her friends was driving.

I went to the kitchen, pulled a beer from the fridge, went to the living room, sat, turned on the TV, sipped my beer and relaxed.

I finished my beer, looked at my watch and figured I had time for a shower before the girls got home.

After showering, I went to our walk-in closet to get some clean clothes.

I put on a pair of jeans and went to the den to watch some more TV. I sat in front of it for several minutes but couldn't focus. Something was wrong but I didn't know what it was. I went back to the bedroom and looked around. Noticed nothing. To the bathroom; noticed nothing so started out. Stopped. Looked around again. Carol's bathrobe wasn't hanging on the back of the door. Must be in the laundry. Started out. Stopped. Where was all the makeup and girly stuff on her side of the counter? Shook my head. Walked out. Looked around the bedroom. Nothing amiss. Went to the closet. That's it. Most of her clothes were missing. I never noticed it when I was in there before. I just stared at the empty clothing rods. I literally backed out of the closet and went to our shared dresser and opened the drawers on her side. All empty.

I almost ran to Cheryl's room. Virtually all of her stuff was gone; clothes, toys, even her bedding.

Now in a panic, I went through the rest of the house. A couple small porcelain statues, an antique clock, and three oil paintings were missing. On the kitchen counter, unnoticed before, were her keys, phone and credit cards.

I picked up her phone and opened it. Nothing. Everything that could be erased had been. Checked our computer. It was gone. Checked the desk. Opened the safe. Jewelry gone. My birth certificate, Social Security Card, some documents from my parents' estate, my few rings and watches, and some jewelry which had belonged to my mother were there. Marriage License, ripped to shreds. There were also the documents pertaining to our house. On top of them was a note in Carol's handwriting, 'It's all yours.' The note was paper clipped to a Power of Attorney (POA) for selling the house.

What had she done? And why?

I went back to the bathroom where I had left my phone while I showered. I opened it. All my stuff was still there. Tried to log in to our investment accounts ... no luck. Tried to log in to our bank accounts ... no luck; credit cards the same thing. All the passwords had apparently been changed.

I called her parents to see if they could shed any light.

"Hello," answered her father.

"Have you heard from Carol?"

"Of course."

"Where is she?"

"We don't know. All we know is that you turned out to be another no-good piece of shit and will never see her or Cheryl again. She couldn't stand to face the humiliation of another divorce, so she took Cheryl and left."

"Why? What's going on?" I was in a daze and my mind couldn't absorb what was happening.

"You know good and well 'what's going on.' Don't ever call here again."

I stood looking at my phone before I put it down. Then back to the office and frantically searched through every piece of paper in, on, and around the desk. I even dumped the paper shredder to see if there were any unshredded hints there. By midnight, I had still found nothing. Sunrise found me going through all of the papers for the third, fifth, or tenth time ... I'm not really sure how many times I combed through them. Or the closet. Or the attic. Or the garage. Or her car.

With the exception of a few remaining clothes, she had done a good job of ridding the house of any sign of either her or Cheryl.

At 8:00 AM, I called the police, but received only sympathy. In that it appeared that she chose to leave of her own free will, they could do nothing; but they would make a report of my call. Then they wished me good luck. Big deal!

I stumbled through the rest of that day; and the next. I called all of our friends that I had numbers for. Same with her friends; then my friends. I was limited as to who I could call because I didn't have all of their numbers on my phone and her phone had been wiped clean.

I walked around our neighborhood and knocked on doors asking about her. Then I got in my car and drove to those friends I couldn't walk to. I called both of her brothers and received only threats of violence if I ever called them again.

On Monday morning, I called my boss and filled him in; then I called our investment counselor. He was surprised to hear from me. "She cleaned out the account, Sam," he said. That's my name. Sam. Samuel Conley. "Last Friday. She told me that the two of you had decided to move and that you had gone on ahead. I had no reason to doubt her."

I headed for my car to get to the bank.

At the bank, I found out that there was nothing left in any of the three accounts; checking, savings and vacation fund.

I had nowhere else to go, so I went to work and sat in my boss's office. We talked for a long time. The same thing had happened to his sister several years ago, but her husband had come home three weeks later with most of what he had taken with him.

His advice was to "Sit tight and wait her out." Whatever 'snit' she was in would be over soon.

The police told me that since she apparently left of their own free will I was pretty well screwed. My only recourse with Cheryl was to get a court order requiring Carol to not keep her away from me. But since we had no idea if they were in the same state, no court would issue such an order. As regarded the money, my understanding was that if we filed for a divorce, I could sue to get half of it back.

I sat for three months. I moped, fretted, and cried. I received neither word nor hint about them; nor from them. Cheryl's school could only tell me that Carol had taken her records. I went to her parents' house twice. The second time I was kicked off the property and told that I would be arrested the next time.

At Christmas, I sat down the street from their house for three days hoping Carol and Cheryl would show up. They didn't. It was a depressing holiday season; especially after I put up outdoor lights and decorated a tree in anticipation of them coming home.

I had hit absolute bottom and was both mentally, and physically exhausted. Then I remembered an expression I heard once. '"Get busy living or get busy dying'."

I was tired of acting like I was already dead.

"Hey, boss. I need a vacation," I said as I marched into his office.

"When and how long?" So we discussed vacation options. He and his wife had been on 12 ocean cruises; some lasting as long as three weeks. He convinced me that on a ship in the middle of some big body of water, where, when you looked around, all you saw was more water, you could spend days doing nothing.

Two weeks later I was on my first ever ocean cruise. I sold Carol's car in order to pay for it, but what the hell.

I drove to Galveston on departure day. It was the first time I had seen a cruise ship up close. That sucker was huge!

I was onboard less than 12 hours and discovered that if a man wants to meet women, cruise ships seemed to be the place to do it. Not that I was looking; but you didn't really have to look. They were everywhere. Of course they were everywhere off the ship as well, but onboard the ship, they seemed more ... accessible? More willing to chat? Something. It must be the environment, but whatever it was, it was palpable.

The first night at dinner, I was seated at a table for six. Besides me, there were two married couples and a single woman. We went to the live stage show as a group afterward. The single lady, Grace Windham, and I sat next to each other at dinner and again after dinner at the show. The cast performed shows twice an evening. Grace liked the show and wanted to stay and watch the second performance. I was pleasantly surprised at how good it was and asked if she minded company. She didn't so we watched it together.

The next day was a "Sea Day." Grace and I saw each other by the pool and hung out together for a couple of hours.

Dinner that evening was formal. I didn't have a tux, so I wore the only suit I brought. Again, I was seated at a table for six; one married couple, one elderly gentleman, two women, and me. Everyone but me was dressed formally and looked great. They were all experienced cruisers and referred to formal nights on board as "Prom Nights." We were scheduled to have two "Prom Nights." The two women were friends and traveling together. They were attractive, witty, and a bit risqué in both demeanor and language. They made it clear that they went on cruises to party and have fun. I spent most of my time talking with them and vice versa.

After dinner, the three of us went to the bar on the top deck. We drank and danced until one in the morning. The booze flowed freer, the dances got raunchier, and the conversation more frank and open. By one thirty I was naked and in bed with both of them. They told me they came to party and they weren't kidding. My first sex other than with Carol in over 12 years and I hit the jackpot.

I am a bigot. The thought of two men in bed together always leaves me kinda ... well ... turned off. But the thought of two women together never fails to give me a hard on. And reality was much better than the fantasy. I couldn't wait to kiss each of them after they tongue fucked each other and then I took my time as I tasted each pussy separately. And I cannot imagine any man not enjoying the eroticism of two attractive women sucking each other's tits; and I won't even try to describe the sight of two pussies rubbing together.

I know the normal temperature of the human body is 98.6 degrees; but the medical profession must be wrong. When I put my dick in the first pussy it may have been 98.6, but then I took it out and put it in the pussy next to it and I swear that pussy was at least 10 degrees hotter. After a few strokes, I switched back to the first and it was 10 degrees hotter still; then back and forth, back and forth, each time the new pussy was hotter. By five in the morning the three of us were sitting on their balcony watching Cozumel come into view. We went back inside and I received good-bye blow jobs from them.

By seven I was in my cabin and by five after seven, I was asleep. I never set foot in Cozumel.

I was standing in line that evening waiting to be seated for dinner thinking about the night before, when Grace Windham from the first night tapped me on the shoulder.

"Dining with anyone special?" she asked.

"I don't know. They may be." I answered.

"We have an extra seat."

"Thank you." I followed her in and sat at her table. It was the same group as before. The dinner was, again excellent as was the show afterwards. Two shows, in fact, because Grace and I watched both performances again. It was the same performers as before, but the show was completely different. Those people were talented.

After the second show, I thought having a drink would be a good thing to do. "Grace, would you join me for a drink topside?"

She smiled, "that would be nice."

We danced a couple of times and were sitting, talking, and enjoying our drinks when a handsome young man, who looked vaguely familiar, approached our table and spoke to me.

"Excuse me, sir. Would you mind if I asked this young lady to dance?"

I looked at him then at her and saw the gleam in her eyes, which told me that she didn't care if I minded or not she was going to dance with him. "Of course not," I said as I stood.

He took her hand and escorted her to the dance floor. I watched as they danced. It was as if they had danced together their whole lives and never once did he press his body close to hers in that horny, teenaged dry fuck way I did when I danced with her. I hated this young man because of his good looks, youth, class, and dancing ability.

Just as their dance ended, I had made up my mind to go back to my cabin and leave her to him. There were plenty of other "fish in the sea", so to speak. I stood as they approached. They were laughing and holding hands.

He pulled her chair out for her. Then he looked at me and spoke. "Thank you, sir."

I hated him all over again.

Then Grace slapped him on the shoulder. "Why weren't you ever this gentlemanly when you were growing up?" Then she looked at me. "Sam, this is my son, Michael. Michael, this is Sam Conley."

"Your son?" I asked, shocked. "How old were you when you had him? Five?"

They both laughed, then sat. "Actually, I was seventeen." I figured he was about 21 so that made her about three years my senior.

The three of us sat and talked for a long time. He was familiar to me because he was the lead male singer in the shows on the ship. I knew that was Grace's first cruise; they told me she took it because it was the last cruise on his six-month employment contract with the cruise line, so it would be her last chance to see him perform in this environment. In two weeks, he was to begin rehearsals for a new Broadway musical.

At three in the morning I left them still talking and returned to my cabin. We were scheduled to be in Honduras in four hours. In my cabin I showered and lay on my bed. I never set foot in Honduras either. These long, late nights were taking their toll.

Grace and I had dinner alone in one of the Ship's specialty restaurants that evening then watched her son in yet another show. He was an excellent singer and very accomplished dancer. No wonder he was going to Broadway.

After the last show, I escorted her to her cabin. I was invited in and didn't leave until almost ten the next morning.

Grace was an exceptional lover. She knew exactly what I wanted/needed, precisely when I wanted/needed it. When the cabin stewards prepare the rooms for the evenings, they close the drapes. Grace reopened hers. It was, of course, pitch black outside and the only things visible were stars. She slowly undressed herself moving with the grace for which she must have been named. Cabins on cruise ships are relatively small, but she used the available space well. She danced and stripped seductively like an experienced stripper might do. It took a long time for her to get completely naked.

When she was finished, she danced over to me and kissed me for the first time. It was long, soft, and slow. And hot. Then she started stripping me. She started slow, but I couldn't stand it. I nearly ripped my clothes off and pounced on her, but, fortunately, regained my senses and slowed down. I touched her, stroked her, massaged her, rubbed her, and kissed her.

I kissed her face, neck, and shoulders before I got to her breasts. I didn't just kiss them, however. I kissed, sucked, nibbled, inhaled, and chewed them. Then my tongued moved down her body and into her belly button then down further. Just before I got to her mound I moved my body so my head was between her legs and my tongue pointed at her pussy. I slowly moved toward her as she moved to me and when my tongue touched her she jumped. Her hips moved skyward and my head snapped back.

"Oh my god. It seems so long since I felt that," she moaned.

"Like it?"

"Fuck yes. More. Do more."

I stabbed and she jumped again. Stab. Jump. Stab. Jump. Over and over and with each jump came a moan. I stayed there for what seemed like a long time and loving every second. She was wet and her juices flowed freely and I lapped them up like honey. She had stopped moving by then and just lay there moaning with an occasional twitch when I hit a particularly sensitive nerve.

Finally it was time. I moved up her body and when I was directly over her with my arms extended, she reached for my dick and aimed it at her pussy

"Now, please, God, now."

And I plunged.

Her moan was low and long and her hips started moving up and down. And they continued moving. Slow, then fast, then slow again, then fast again. Who's fucking who? I thought as I stayed in my arms extended position.

Then I started moving. In and out. Fucking her with affection if that makes any sense.

"Oh, God, Sam. It's good ... so good."

I felt her heels dig into my ass as she pulled me into her when she exploded.

We slept afterwards. We were not aware when the ship docked in Belize, and for the third time I missed visiting a different country.

I went back to my cabin, showered and slept.

At dinner that evening, I didn't see Grace. I did see her the next day, however. We had docked in Costa Maya, Mexico and I was leaning over the rail, watching people leave the ship when I spotted her. She appeared to be with a small group headed for the pedestrian gate.

After a while, the number of people leaving the ship diminished, so I walked off and went through the souvenir shop on the dock. I caught myself thinking that "Carol would like that," or "Cheryl would love this," before remembering that neither was in my life anymore.

Over the next couple of days, we visited the Cayman Islands and Jamaica. I never got off the ship.

I had spent eight nights onboard and had fucked four different women including the night before. No wonder cruising was so popular for single men.

It was popular for women also. I saw Grace three or four times over the course of the cruise after our night together and she seemed to be having fun as well. Each time I saw her she was with a different man.

I'm going to have to cruise more, I thought on more than one occasion.

The evening before we were scheduled to dock back in Galveston, my cabin phone rang. It was Grace.

"Haven't seen you around much the last few days," she said.

"I've managed to stay pretty busy."

She laughed. "So have I. It's almost like I was back in high school."

"Why? Too much homework?" I chuckled.

"Yeah. I've pulled a couple of all-nighters, if you know what I mean. I had heard about cruising, but Christ, it's much better than I had heard. Michael says it is one long party in the crew area."

"I know exactly what you mean. I've had some all-nighters myself. It will be nice to get home and get some rest."

"Ain't that the truth." There was a pause before she spoke again. "Listen, Sam. You live in Lake Charles and I live in Houston. Any chance of us seeing each other after the cruise?"

I didn't hesitate. "I'd like that, but there are a couple of things you should know about me first. Why don't we have dinner and chat?"

At dinner, I told her my story and she told me hers. Pregnant young. Had Michael. She had been married once but not to Michael's father. Michael has a good relationship with his father and family. Grace had worked hard to provide a good life for Michael and his father did his share. She was rightfully very proud of the fact that he will be in his first Broadway show.