She Stole My Wife

This is the first episode in an extended story about Jimmy and Andrea. If the ending feels abrupt, it is because it isn't really an ending. There is always another episode waiting to happen.

*

She came to bed late that night. I remember her walking in the room, her body silhouetted against the light from the hall way. I could tell she was wearing her special robe, the red silk one with the royal blue collar and lining that made her body glow like the embers of a fire. She turned to close the door, and her backlit silhouette changed form as it began to bask in the subtle moonlight that spilled in from the large glass door that led from our room to the little deck outside. As she turned into the light, she revealed her bosom nearly bursting from a sexy black lace bra, and her sexy long legs posed provocatively in a black lace panty and thigh high stockings.

It might seem cliché to think of a sexy woman approaching her long term lover seductively, dressed like this, but it was not usual in our routine. Tonight was a rare night. She was rarely interested in initiating anything sexual beyond a quickie, or permitting any kind of acceleration of the kissing/heavy petting process. She never cared to set a romantic stage, and lingerie was rarest of all. Still, after all these years, my heart leapt at the sight of my every day Andrea. Even first thing in the morning, before the hair fixing and the makeup that preceded each work day, she was beautiful. She was the most to me, even at her worst, but dressed like this she was irresistible. She was the love of my life, and in over three decades of being in love, I still couldn't keep my hands off of her.

She walked to my side of the bed, and settled into a deep luscious kiss. I wrapped my arms around her smooth skin under the soft silky touch of the light robe. She rose to her knees above me, and lowered the robe off her shoulders. The moonlight looked even more beautiful then.

I felt her cool hands slide my shirt over my head and my pajama down my legs. I was as hard as I had ever been. Before her hands had finished their work disentangling my feet from my pants, I felt her mouth slide over my throbbing erection. The new warm and wet sensation intensified my throbbing, and her tongue soon settled into a rhythm of play egging it on. She lightly grazed the skin with her teeth, and had me writhing in pleasure on the mattress. I placed my hands behind her head and caressed her as I moaned, letting her know how good it felt.

Oral sex was even more rare than lingerie with my Andy. On the few occasions she had consented, I was always scolded before she started about the consequences of coming in her mouth. She always did it with an air of reluctance on a birthday or after I had done something special for her that she felt a need to thank me for. It was always a short lived, unenthusiastic passion-free act that left me wondering "Why bother?"

Tonight was different. She approached tonight like she had approached bathing my children when they were babies. She was tender, slow, patient and caring. Though entirely out of character, I didn't complain, because it felt like nothing else ever had. Just as I felt the stirrings of my climactic eruption, I warned her she had to stop. I expected her to pull right off as she always had, and finish me with her trademark aggressive hand job. Her idea of jerking me off had always been my least favorite sexual endeavor. She was always vigorous, sometimes to the point of painful. She was always in a hurry to finish me off so she could get on to bigger and better things. Hand jobs were generally to be avoided, and I had learned early on during her time of month and pregnancies, that it was best to jerk off myself to avoid the illusion of being horny rather than to allow her to "take care of me." However I could never decline or avoid them when they were attached to an oral sex prelude. However, this was different tonight also.

"Don't hold back, Jimmy, you can cm in my mouth tonight."

I'd like to tell you I just couldn't bring myself to do that. I'd be lying. As soon as she said that, I pressed on the back of her head, and helped her into a rhythm of pumping on my dick. Her tongue accented each action swirling and licking as it passed. Within seconds, I moaned loudly as I spewed my semen deep into her eager mouth. She swallowed, and then kissed me deeply, tonguing me with the residue of my own seed.

"Don't think that's all there is, Jimmy. Don't plan on sleeping just yet."

She kissed me again, then went to clean up.

When she came back, she rolled me on my stomach, and began to massage me. All the things that made her hand jobs stink, made her massages amazing. She rubbed jasmine scented oils deep into my skin, working the muscles from neck to toe, carefully kneading the tension from each one. When she rolled me back over again, my flaccid cock had already forgotten it had been exercised once, and was sleepily reconstructing itself into a ready to party erection. She rubbed down my stomach, but skipped the groin area, concentrating on my legs and feet again. She scraped her fingernails the length of my legs as she shifted her attention back to the groin, where the reconstruction of my hard cock was now complete.

"Not yet," she whispered into my ear, and she swung her leg over my head, and lowered her pussy to my eager mouth. As lukewarm as she was about giving head, you might expect that she wouldn't expect much orally. Fair is fair, right? Well no, not with Andy. She taken the old adage "All's fair in love and war." and spun it to her own use for years. To her, it read, "Nothing's fair in love and war." Andy was an eager recipient of oral sex, and often a demanding recipient. Failure to deliver, especially on the grounds of "Why you and not me?" resulted in weeks of no sex. She could live with that, but I couldn't, so delivery was always prompt, enthusiastic, and on demand.

She rode my face like a quarter horse, positioning whatever part of her pussy most needed attention on my mouth or tongue with the exact desired pressure and motion. I knew how important it was at moments like this to just lie back and enjoy the ride, even if it was me who was being ridden. I did, and soon my cock was again throbbing, begging for attention. I winced when I felt that attention materialize from her hands, but this time they were as gentle as a spring rain. They brushed the skin lightly all around, teasing it. I began to twitch and reach for a stronger touch b following her touch with my hips. My tongue continued to work feverishly along her labia, spin little circles around her clit, and dive deeply into her oozing sex. If I tried to lighten its touch, mimicking her hand play, she ground her hips down onto me, practically suffocating me in her sex.

She came as she ground. As she did, she rocked back and forth on my face. I inhaled deeply at every chance, barely noticing the lack of air due to the intoxicating effect I was feeling from the combination of the smells, tastes, sounds, and heat of her climaxing body stacked above and pressing itself upon my eyes, nose mouth and ears. As her orgasm subsided, she turned around, and my view changed from one of her luscious ass cheeks to one of her bosom swaying, as she recommenced my sexual suffocation from a 180 degree reverse angle. This time as she rocked she alternately grabbed my ears and my hair, using them as handles to control the angle and pressure my head exerted behind my eagerly servicing tongue and lips. In no time at all, she was cumming again, only this time, before her waves of orgasm had exhausted themselves, she slid her hips down my body and pierced her pussy with my steely cock, which had been largely neglected since she had rotated her body on my face.

I entered her quickly and to the hilt. She sat there undulating her hips, grinding them down to force me as deeply inside as possible. This was a fucking to remember, but I didn't care why it was happening, I didn't care to know anything other than the animal lust that had consumed me and apparently my very horny and inspired wife. Her humping soon became hard and fast, but I was a long way from my second ejaculation. The second time never came fast for me, and was always a source of pleasure and challenge. It was pleasure to me that I could keep experiencing seemingly never ending sex, and a challenge for her to see how quickly she could accomplish her goal.

As she kissed me deeply, she drove her tongue all over my mouth. Then as she broke one last long kiss, she grabbed me by the hair again, pulled me eye to eye, and said, "It's time to cum. Cum in me now."

She said it quietly, but in a sure commanding tone, and unwilling to break the spell and spoil the moment, I did. My orgasm released such energy, that I was amazed she could stay connected to me. She held on tightly as I thrashed and spasmed all over the bed. I must've actually roared, because she covered my mouth with her hand , and giggled as she approached her own orgasm. We continued to twitch and cling to each other for what seemed an eternity, but finally settled in each others arms as our heart rates slowed and my erection subsided while still held warmly in her pussy.

Eventually we lay back onto the bed, spent. As our breathing slowed, and the afterglow of our passion melted towards the drowsiness of a comfortable satisfied sleep, she rolled herself over and looked me deep in the eye. I smiled. She didn't.

"Jimmy," she began but hesitated, never breaking her gaze. She often found herself at a loss for words.

"Andrea, you know I love you! Whatever it is, you can tell me."

"I want a divorce."

So much for a comfortable satisfied sleep and basking in the afterglow of passion. Talk about out of the blue! One minute we were making passionate love, and the next she was ending life as I had known it. Twenty six years of marriage and four years of dating came crashing to a halt in four little words. I could feel my face muscles skewing my expression into the same "What the ...." Look I usually reserve for incredibly stupid things drivers do on highways.

Andrea's words had clearly blindsided me. She was so much more than a lover and wife, she was my best friend, my only true confidant, my most honestly voiced critic. In every way she was my other half. I could never think of keeping secrets from her. She was the only friend I could share them with. She washed, I dried. I cut the grass, she trimmed and swept the walks. I washed the cars, she vacuumed the floors. Our entire life had been divided into the two sides of a balance that now was suddenly tipping and dumping its contents all over the floor.

We had everything in life. Beautiful kids, a nice home, secure jobs, and even a nice vacation home at the shore. We did everything together. We worked for the same local school system in the same department. We finished each others sentences. We were the first person each would turn to as a collaborator on a project. We loved the same foods and movies and music. We both loved concerts and dancing, and dabbled in painting.

Two kids were grown and out of the house. The youngest was autistic, and would probably be living with us for a long time, but at 16 had become quite independent and was functioning well in the community.

"I know this is going to be hard, but I want a divorce."

I just couldn't imagine what brought this on. Part of me was aching to know, but for the first time in thirty years, I couldn't read her thoughts. She was so beautiful. Her brown hair had thinned and was whitening, her hips had spread with the glory of three childbirths, and her waistline had spread as our habits became less active, but the face under that hair line still melted me when it lit up with a smile, the hips swayed sexily whenever she moved, but especially when she drew looks on a dance floor, and her figure still made me aroused whenever I looked at it, which was whenever she was around.

"How can I understand this Andrea, it's coming out of nowhere! I deserve better!"

Then she smiled. One of the few things about her that was irritating was the way she smiled when angry or nervous. This was not the smile which accompanied humor, or even the smile of a tease after she got the best of someone. This was her father's smile, the one he used to say you missed curfew, or you couldn't have the car.

"Jimmy, you are my best friend, and the love of my life. You are the father of my children, and I will always love you for that...."

"This sounds rehearsed, Andy, you've been planning this!"

I had interrupted her rhythm. She let out a sigh of surrender, and abandoned her planned speech. I could see in her face recognition that she was going to have to dig deeper. A tear came to her eye. She took a deep breath or two to gather herself. I remember her learning to use deep breathing to control her nerves as part of the Lamaze classes we took before our daughter was born 24 years ago. There was nothing this woman could do that I didn't understand completely, so a divorce was especially bizarre.

"I love you. I always will. I just don't see myself growing old with you."

That hurt. Growing old with her was my only wish, my dream.

"When we met and dated and married, I was on fire for you. I couldn't keep my hands off you. I needed to be near you. I had to be touching you all the time, even if that just meant my foot against yours. Now I just don't feel that electricity."

She paused, but obviously had more to say.

"I need to."

The last couple of years she had cooled sexually. We had always been very active, and I had done everything I could to satisfy her. I gave her oral until she demanded I stop. There was no part of her I wouldn't kiss! I did anything she wanted, any way she wanted it. She loved to have me slowly kiss down her body, tenderly circling her nipples, never sucking, and spending a great deal of time touching and kissing the silky underside. She loved me spending a great amount of attention kissing and licking the very base of her breasts where her bra irritated her all day. She would guide my hand to her pussy as I did this, and loved it when I gently cupped her entire vulva, holding it in the palm of my hand.

I knew she loved foreplay gentle, so I never rushed it. I took time massaging her until she wriggled her lips around a finger, her signal that I was welcome to explore. I would spread her lips open, tracing them lightly with the invited finger, and let my lips continue their journey down her body. Her breathing would intensify as I kissed through her pubic hair. She kept her hair trimmed in length, but otherwise natural because she loved the feeling of her pussy being approached. When I could feel her wetness build, I would spread her lips and let my tongue lick slowly. When I finally moved to her clitoris, he would explode. Sometimes I would follow that by teasing her anus as she came down from climax, and that would send her right back into spasms that I could feel in her sphincter as it twitched on my fingertip. At that point she would whisper at me frantically "I need you in me NOW." I would slide up bring my rock hard penis to her dripping pussy. She would grab it, pull me in, and command me to cum now. If I didn't cum right away, she would buck like a bronco, whispering "Fuck me! Cum now!" until I did.

I couldn't vary the routine. It was always the same. If I did, she would physically move me to the prescribed step in the pattern. It was dependable but as happens with most routines, became boring. It seemed I was doing all kinds of giving, while receiving what amounted to a quickie. She knew I loved oral too, but she hated putting my cock in her mouth. She did reluctantly on special occasions, but it was always a couple of kisses on the side, 2 or 3 quick pumps in her mouth, and then "I don't want you too excited yet." She would follow this by immediately initiating "the routine."

She loved anal stimulation, and for a while enjoyed a variation on the game, where she would turn her back to me in bed, whisper "tease me" and push her anus back against my hard cock. Just as I would get excited and the head would gain entry, she turn, kiss me and whisper "lick me!" close into my ear. Back to the routine!

The idea that I couldn't electrify her, after years of submitting myself to her familiar drill was painful. I had to sit down.

"So you need something new and different?

She just nodded her agreement.

"So who is he? Do I know him?"

"There isn't another man! I wouldn't do that to you! You have been an amazing husband, you are a terrific father, and you're my best friend! I couldn't ever be satisfied with another man!"

I felt only moderately better. We had always told each other the straight story, and I had no reason to doubt she was doing so now.

"So you're not having an affair?"

"I didn't say that."

I guess I couldn't read her as well as I thought. I guess I did have reason to doubt. The trust that we had built our entire life on was a sham

"Its Kim Morgan."

I didn't think it was possible to be this badly blindsided twice in one day. Kim was the librarian at Andrea's school. She was well liked by all. She was friendly, dynamic, and projected an image of big tough and free from the Harley she drove to school to the wild trendy hair cuts she wore.

"Jimmy, Kim is everything I need right now. She is gentle and loving, and she sends that electricity through me like you used to."

My mind raced to all our pillow talk through the years. She had always been interested in bisexual fantasies, but always shut them down saying it would never happen, and that she took her marriage seriously. I guess that was all out the window.

She talked to me for hours, trying to explain. She never realized that I wasn't talking back. Everything she had to say just convinced me that there was nothing I could do to fix or fight this. It was a done deal. I felt betrayed. I had invested 30 years in our relationship, 26 years on a marriage, all the while hearing from her how important our vows were, how jealous she'd be if I cheated, how I was everything to her, her entire world.

My mind raced through all of the "should haves." I should have taken a pass on marriage. I should have read the sexual signs sooner. I should have gone out for some extra-curricular fun while I was young. I should have dated girls for their big tits and adeptness at blow jobs and kinky sex. I shouldn't have traded all the supposedly shallow delights for the opportunity to have a beautiful life with a woman who wanted to grow old with me.

"Damn," I thought. "What am I thinking? I wouldn't have had my kids or those amazing years with Andrea."

"Andrea, do you remember when you broke up with me for a month in college, when you were afraid we were going too fast? Do you remember me telling you I never wanted to be with someone who didn't want to be with me? Do you remember me telling you I would never let you see me lick my wounds? I still feel that way. You get what you want: your divorce."

"The house is mine, that was in the pre-nup your dad made us sign. You'll want custody of Jeffy. You wanted a third child so badly, you promised you'd be doing the lion's share of raising him, and I'm going to need the time to re-build my life. Relax, I'll be very involved, but you'll have custody. You can take whatever furnishing you want before the divorce is final. I intend to throw away anything we acquired together, however the items I have from my family are out of bounds. They were mine outside the marriage. Now pack and get out."

"Jimmy, we have to work some things out. You know we're broke. We can't go to Dad for help, he lost everything he had in that investment scheme he sold us on as well. I don't want to move and it would kill Jeffy to not have us together. You can't afford to pay your share of our bills and the mortgage. You'll lose this place! You'll lose our home, Jeffy will be crushed."