Once a Slut...

Beth watched me as I finished dressing. Seeing her ready smile, I was haunted by thoughts of Jen. This girl obviously knew my wife, and was important enough to her for Jen to bring gifts and share stories. I couldn't have found a way to hurt Jen more if I'd tried.

Given the situation, there was little more I could do than thank her and be on my way. Fully clothed, I said goodbye to Beth and headed to my car. As I drove slowly home, my inner demons tormented me. It had turned out that I was truly married to a saint. But would she stay married to me once she found out what happened?

I knew from prior experience – not with infidelity, but with life generally – that Jen would be guided by her heart and by her faith. I seemed to recall that the Bible frowned on divorce, at least in the New Testament. But I was pretty sure that Jesus had given an exception in cases of unfaithfulness. And I felt like the most unfaithful man in the world.

That raised the question: WOULD she find out what happened? The guilt that I was experiencing was almost palpable. It felt like black oil filling up my chest, eager to drown me and put me out of my misery.

I had to get clean, and I had to come clean. I parked in our garage and jumped out of the car, heading to the bathroom for a long, hot shower.

As I undressed and threw my clothes into the washer, I determined that the only palatable course was a complete confession. I couldn't live with unspoken guilt – it would eat away at me and at our marriage.

As I adjusted the water temperature in the shower, I contemplated how to approach my confession to Jen. No matter what approach I pondered, the subject matter would be ugly. I feared the hurt that it would cause for Jen. She had been through so much in her life, she didn't need this sort of grief from me.

"I've fuckin' BLOWN it," I said to myself. I was at my wit's end.

For the first time in many years, I got down on my knees with the intention to pray. But I didn't know how. The stream of hot water coursed over my body as I struggled to find a way to talk to God.

"If you're up there, I need you now, man," I whispered. "I've REALLY fucked up – pardon my French."

My heart ached for what I'd done. I hadn't just broken my vow to forsake all others. I had broken my vow to love, honor and cherish Jen. I had failed to trust her, despite her complete honesty and forthrightness with me since before we were married.

Salty tears began to flow from my eyes, washing down the drain with the shower water. My shoulders began to heave with sobs as I realized the true depths to which I'd sunk.

"I need your help, God," I said out loud, the shower still beating out its rhythm on my head, back and shoulders. "I need to know what to say to Jen. I need her to know how sorry I am. And I need YOUR forgiveness."

My burdened soul felt suddenly lighter. Still wracked with remorse, somehow the guilt seemed to diminish. I knew I had been wrong, but I didn't feel hopeless. I'd confess to Jen, but no matter what her reaction, I had a sense of peace in doing the right thing. The water from the shower, coursing over me, seemed to take some of my inner scum with it down the drain.

A short while later, I stepped out of the shower and dried off with a towel. I got dressed and waited in the living room. I rocked back and forth in the wooden rocker, thinking about what I should say to her. What COULD I say?

* * * * *

I heard the security chime ring as Jennifer opened the door from our double garage.

"Honey, I'm home!" she called out to me.

She arrived in the living room a few seconds later. She could immediately tell that something was wrong. I stopped my rocking.

"What is it, baby?" she asked with compassion. I could see the empathy written in her eyes, flowing forth from her body language.

At first, I couldn't speak. I looked down at my shoes, silence gripping my tongue. I closed my eyes. A tear threatened to squeeze past my eyelid, but I clamped it shut.

Jennifer came over beside the rocker and put her arm around me. "It's okay, baby," she said comfortingly, "it'll be all right."

Not when you hear what I've done, I thought.

"No, it won't, Jen. I'm a major fuck-up."

"No, you're not. Did you – lose your job?"

I shook my head and grunted with a half-hearted laugh. If only it were that easy, I thought.

"Then what is it?" Lines of worry creased her brow, spoiling the natural beauty of her healthy, glowing skin.

"I failed to trust you, Jen. I followed you to the Pink Kitty. I thought you were – working there," I confessed.

Jen looked momentarily shocked, then smiled at me. "It's okay, baby. I understand that you'd be worried."

"It's – not just that," I continued, "there's more."

"Like what?"

My chin began to quiver. Tears stung my eyes. I could hardly breathe. I didn't want it to be true. But it was.

"I thought you were having sex with other men there. I pretended to be a client, so I could talk with one of the girls about you. Her name was Amber."

"And did she tell you what I've been doing there?"

"Yes, she did. After..."

"After what?" Jen queried.

I looked down at my shoes. I didn't answer her at first.

"Bill... after WHAT?"

"I was crazy with anger over what I thought you were doing, Jen," I explained, "and Amber thought I was there for sex – or else that I was a cop. She wanted me to prove to her that I wasn't a cop before she'd talk to me about you. She made me – show her my cock."

"Omigosh, Bill. And DID you?" The strain was beginning to show on Jen's face.

"At first it was just to get her to tell me about you. But then she started playing with it, and that got me hard. Before I knew what was happening, I was paying her to have sex with me. I somehow rationalized that having sex with her for money was justified, since I thought YOU were having sex for money..."

Jennifer immediately burst into tears. To her credit, she didn't go completely ballistic, or try to harm me in any way. But her shock and disappointment were obvious. She turned away, her shoulders heaving with her sobs.

Finally, she spoke. "I probably deserve this, after all I've done..."

"No, you don't deserve it at all," I replied quietly.

She blinked rapidly a couple of times to clear the tears from her eyes. "I understand it's probably always been hard for you to trust me," she said, "but to go and have sex with – with someone ELSE – to get EVEN with me..." She began to sob again.

"I feared the worst, baby," I replied, "and somehow, I let down my guard. It seemed at the time like it was okay to lash out and just let go – an eye for an eye, so to speak. But lashing out is never the best way to respond to anger. Especially when you're wrong about the thing that made you angry..."

"No, lashing out isn't the right way to go – even though it's what I want to do RIGHT NOW." She raised her fists as if to beat them against my chest, then dropped them at her sides. She began crying again. She looked so helpless, so vulnerable.

I put my arm around her and cradled her head to my shoulder. She instinctively pulled away.

"And, Bill – to do it with one of the girls I'm trying to REACH..." Tears streamed forth once more.

"I really didn't KNOW," I defended – but there was no defending what I'd done. I hung my head in shame, next to hers, where it was buried against my shoulder. "I'm sorry, Jen. I really AM," I whispered in her ear.

Jen lifted her head and looked me in the eye. She paused, then spoke softly and slowly.

"I believe you – and I forgive you, Bill," she said, choking back tears, "but I'm not strong enough to survive going through this seven times, let alone seventy times seven, like Jesus said I should be willing to do. Are you sorry enough to keep your cock in your pants for anyone but me?"

I nodded my head vigorously. I'd always been faithful before today, at least physically. My experience at the Pink Kitty showed me that while unfaithfulness has its pleasures, it doesn't lead to genuine happiness.

"Are you sorry enough to trust me, no matter what?" she asked tremulously.

"Yes. You're a BETTER person than I am, Jen. You're a GOOD woman," I said sincerely to her.

She smiled faintly, then shook her head. "Sweetheart, NONE of us is GOOD. That's why we need God's forgiveness – His grace."

I felt a warm, tingly feeling begin to emerge from within. "I think I'm beginning to understand that. I was thinking about it a lot when I was in the shower before you got home. I asked God to forgive me."

"You DID?" she said with a look of incredulity.

"Yeah. I knew I'd done you wrong, and that I needed your forgiveness. But I felt like I needed – MORE..."

Jen's smile reached from ear to ear. "You needed God's forgiveness, too – DIDN'T you?"

"Yeah, I did. YES – I really DID." Holy shit, I thought – I'm on the brink of becoming a holy roller. But it felt GOOD.

"I won't push you, Bill, but I think God's working on you. And I know He can bring good out of this horrible situation. I believe what His word says in Romans 8:28 about that."

I didn't really know what she was talking about, but I knew that she forgave me. And it felt like God forgave me too. I had a lot to be grateful for. I grinned at her sheepishly.

"Bill," she said, "it's the forgiveness that matters. We all fuck up sometime, to varying degrees. Invariably, it hurts people we love. But it hurts God most. The great thing is that His love is bigger than our fuck-ups. And because He's working in me, my love is greater than your fuck-up."

Somehow, that all made sense to me, without sounding holier-than-thou. I'd seen it consistently in Jen's life, even though I knew she was by no means perfect, even as a long-time born-again Christian.

She grasped my hand, and to my tremendous surprise, she placed it on her breast.

"Jen – what are you doing?" I asked dazedly.

"Showing you that I forgive you, Bill – totally and without limit."

I felt her hand on my penis, rousing it from its slumber beneath my jeans. "Are you SURE, sweetheart?"

"I've never been surer, Bill. For better or worse – 'til death do us part."

I wrapped my free hand around her shoulders and pulled her close to me. My lips closed hungrily over hers. After a languorous kiss, I leaned back and looked into her crystal blue eyes. "You don't have to prove anything to me, Jen. I trust you. I know your forgiveness is real."

She smiled, then laughed tenderly. "Maybe YOU don't need this, darling, but I do. I need a total release, the kind only my husband can give me." Her hand groped my crotch again, starting to stroke me through the fabric.

I kissed her cheek, then her neck. I nuzzled her cleavage. My hands slid down to her bottom. I rubbed her supple, rounded ass cheeks gently through her soft cotton pants. She pressed her body against mine.

As we slowly undressed each other, eyes feasting hungrily, hands roving frantically, kisses planted tenderly, legs spread invitingly, tongue licking lovingly, cock thrusting heatedly, pussy pulsing excitedly, I was filled with a new respect and trust for my lovely and loving wife, my life's partner.

I was just beginning to learn the real meaning of love. I had failed to trust her, and I had violated her trust for me. But somehow, she found a way to show grace, to truly forgive. As we reached a mind-bending, cock-spewing, pussy-clenching, toe-curling climax together, I silently gave thanks for undeserved blessings. Somebody upstairs was looking out for me.

THE END

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