tagLoving WivesThe Epiphanous Spouses Pt. 01

The Epiphanous Spouses Pt. 01


This story is provided from a husband's perspective and certainly does not reflect the mundane experiences of my own journey through the joys and travails of marriage. It could be classed as something other than a Loving Wives tale but I think it fits the genre reasonably so. It is not a tale of an unwitting cuckold or a recollection of burning the dastardly bitch although there is cuckoldry and a bitch or two represented. It is rather long and being presented in multiple parts over a few days of submissions. It is also fiction and not a recount of any real life experiences in my life or in anybody else's life that I know of. I have taken literary liberties with certain aspects of the tale so if there are those who declare "Ayah, there is no way that could have happened like that!" well, perhaps you are right.

I am going to leave anonymous commenting open for now but will probably delete those comments that are not constructive and adding to any fruitful discussion. The story developed via character arching and was written free form i.e. without plot outlining and I have not submitted it to a peer editor.


Part I

"Sometimes you just have to trust in the kindness of strangers."

That's what he said to me when we parted. Of course, we were no longer strangers having been united by the comradery of those who serve together. I had saved his brother's life many years ago. There was no medal or acknowledgement other than the satisfaction of saving a fellow from a certain death knowing he would have done the same for me if the circumstances were reversed.

He turned his shoulder and said "David, it's already done so no turning back."

I merely nodded and climbed into my truck, dropping the window down to watch him climb back into his little foreign chariot and we parted company on that deserted lane. I pointed myself toward home or what I could call of it now. It still had walls and a roof and comfortable furniture. There were still pictures of the kids who had recently gone off to college. Of course, just as importantly, there was my wife of 25 years, Marylyn.

She had aged well over the years just as I had. Both of us were fitness buffs and loved the great outdoors. Our diets were fresh and our interests were active. We looked, for a word, quintessential. That is not the word of a braggart in this case. We just made every effort to live active lives and take care of ourselves over the years. Both of us were 45 years old, trim, lacking grey hair and with active and healthy libidos.

I pulled into the yard and everything still seemed as it were earlier. Roses were in bloom, the grass was freshly mowed and the neighbors were happy. They were always happy, she more so than he. I think she strays on the side. Call it practical experience. Marylyn was like that, all happy, exuberant, and excitable, except recently as in the last 6 months or so. Don't take that the wrong way. She has always been a happy personality. That's why I married her or at least that is one of the reasons. That is why I have decided to stay married to her, because I know who she is at heart or at least I thought I did.

Her exuberance seemed to shift those 6 months or so ago when she began her dalliance with a Mr. Roger Morgan, of the Morgan Bankers family. Marylyn had been rather hastily promoted into the executive administers role working directly for Mr. Morgan shortly after she moved onto the executive floor. She acted surprised at the quickness of the promotion and I suppose I paid little attention at first. Then the meetings interfered with several of our outings. The dinners excluded the spouses. There were the occasional weekend trips into the offices. After a couple months, Marylyn began accompanying Mr. Morgan on short overnight trips. I suppose the worse evidence of all was the myriad of photographs and streaming video recordings gathered by the investigators I hired after the first month.

There is something about cheaters that almost all observers note. They never think they are going to get caught so they let their guard down or never raise it in the first place. In this case, the ramparts lay unassembled from the very beginning. All that was needed to observe the adultery was to lift the lids of one's trusting eyes. For my dear Marylyn, her breach was observable to anybody who wished to look her happy way.

Mr. Morgan and my wife appeared to have an odd dominant/submissive relationship. They were completely professional and appropriate together in public however, let the drapes be drawn and his brutish nature prevailed and her compliant personality was revealed. He took her with force. She submitted to it without question and from all appearances, their sexual relationship was always centered on his taking her married vagina with his rather large phallus. There was almost never any foreplay and if there was, it was for his pleasure. She would suck his cock or try to at the least but it almost always came down to her opening herself for him as wide as she could, in the same position, and being taken hard. The sex lasted little more than 10-15 minutes each time.

I found it hard to comprehend. Our sexual life was one rich with foreplay, tasting, teasing and bringing each other to a place of sheer joy. Well, that was the case until six months or so. Her interest dropped off a bit and over a period of 2 or 3 months had diminished to just once a week for a rather bland missionary fuck. By that time, I already knew with the evidence I had as to the real cause for concern.

So we continued and my investigators continued. The conversations between Mr. Morgan and my wife revealed a very manipulative man and a woman who for whatever reasons succumbed to that manipulation. It struck me as completely out of character for her. Something seemed strange about that. I could not see Morgan leaving his wife and giving up so much for what he was getting so that could not be it. I couldn't fathom why she would give up what we had for what he offered. While he might have the Morgan name, the far greater wealth in that family was from his wife. He was a rather well compensated employee of what was a privately held company with the Morgan family wealth distributed between 6 brothers and 2 sisters. As banks go, it was a medium size operation and not a colossus. Mrs. Morgan see Stanhope, on the other hand, was worth many millions, much of it in family trusts. I knew this because I work for Mrs. Morgan's father as one of his senior financial advisors. No, Mr. Morgan was playing a game with Mrs. Marylyn Stone, one that she could not hope to win. On the other hand, this was a game I had the patience for.

Mrs. Morgan and I went to high school together many years ago. She was a couple grades ahead of me so we didn't have any kind of relationship but our interactions were pleasant and she always seemed eager to chat. I might not have had any girlfriend relationship but I certainly spent more than a few times with Sister Palm and her five sisters imagining how such a relationship might go. Since working for Mr. Stanhope, we had interacted a considerable amount over the years although I tried to keep our discussions professional and with no hint of impropriety.

Marylyn began transferring funds to her own account. Not large amounts at any one time, just enough to modestly grow her balance. She had consulted a local attorney and apparently had planned to proceed with Mr. Morgan's advice. I didn't know how much of this was due to Morgan's influence or her willful desire to divorce me. That depends on how much dominant control Morgan had on Marylyn. None of that mattered to me, of course. Our real finances were already well protected and beyond any tangible interference of the paramour. Through it all, Marylyn continued as if nothing was amiss. Our dinners were always pleasant and cheerful. Her dress was always neat and attractive. There was no outward clue she was being led down a path of marital upheaval.

That is the odd thing. It was as if there was a train locomotive coming right at her and her pleasantries were a screen blocking her from the reality of her moribund station. Surely she must know the wreckage that waits at the next turn? The investigators reports continued and their plans began to take shape. She would have me served one evening unawares and depart for an apartment arranged by Mr. Morgan, taking leave of our 25 years of wedded bliss. None of it made any sense based on my observations of their times together. I suspected something sinister but I had nothing to help tell me what was really going on.

I watched one of the new videos one evening a couple weeks ago. She was stripped naked and standing before him. Marylyn has the perfect lithe body, toned from years of exercise yet here she was presenting herself to what was comparably a fat oaf. He was a fat oaf with a fat large cock protruding from beneath his fat belly. Were these not serious matters, laughter would have been an appropriate response. I watched as he slapped her face and forced her to her knees where he roughly inserted his fingers into her opened mouth. Another hand groped and twisted the tender nipples that I had caressed for so many years. He abused them bringing pain to her face. I didn't understand this but at this point, for now, I did not need to. Forcing her to her knees, he sodomized her mouth for a couple of minutes. When finished with that, he waved her to the bed where she opened herself obscenely and he mounted her savagely. When he was done spilling his seed deep inside her, he dismounted. It was a mechanical performance mostly, lasting no more than 10 minutes. She scurried to the bathroom and came out wearing panties and a bra. Minutes later she left for what was probably her office.

For me, the question to explore, once everything falls into place, is how did Marylyn find herself in such a foreign circumstance? I would have to ask her that question when convenient. Now was not the time.

Marylyn continued making her moderate withdrawals to her "secret account" and I continued monitoring her. One odd thing I did notice while working with Mrs. Morgan's father was how little respect both he and Mrs. Morgan seemed to have for Roger Morgan. The elder Mr. Stanhope had no regard for the man when he talked of him and Mrs. Morgan just berated him whenever his name was mentioned. Apparently, the marriage was not especially on sure footing

In the meantime, Marylyn continued her daily routine. Mr. Morgan continued to fuck her brutally and I bade my time until the anointed witching hour. The day of that hour was to be the coming Friday. It is a wonderful thing for an investigator to have a friend in an opposing legal office. It makes matters so much more manageable. For all concerned, I was just the happy, contented cuckold waiting for his slaughter at the legal trough.

I should add that initially I was not so patient and understanding nor was any plan to proceed evident in any of my thinking. In fact, I could have been easily convinced to kill both of them and be done with the matter. This whole thing was shocking. To be truthful, something in me snapped and I had an epiphany of sorts. My concept of marriage shifted to that of an obligation to be preserved in spite of the unfaithfulness. To understand that, you have to know my concept of marriage. It is always for better or for worse and when worse strikes, a way has to be made for it to continue. That's what I did.

"David, good morning. I trust all is well with you."

His voice brought back old memories, mostly good.

"I am doing well John. I'm certain you are as well. I talked with Stephen yesterday and it appears they love the new house."

We exchanged pleasantries for a few moments. Stephen and I served together during the Kosovo air command mission in 1999 based out of Italy. He was a pilot and I was his navigator. Without going into the details, I pulled his unconscious body out of the Mediterranean after a not so fortunate joy ride over Albania and he has been overly grateful ever since, not that I minded. His wife Cindy is a marvelous cook and we make excuses to visit them in sunny California when we can.

John is Stephen's older brother and somewhat of an odd character although as nice a man as one could ever know. He is retired from the Navy now after 30 years and is one of those kind of men who never really want to talk much about their career. We never really knew what he did. He was just gone a lot. In any event, we never pushed him and were content to enjoy his company when he was around.

Shortly after I discovered Marylyn's peccadillos I confided my troubles with Stephen. If any man would understand, it was he. Cindy is his second wife. The first was a real live blood sucking Dracula of a bitch. She humiliatingly cuckolded Stephen and nearly ruined him financially. The paramour was an old family friend and by the time it was over, the family blood was everywhere. It was an absolutely brutal divorce and a public spectacle of the nth degree. Two years later, the couple was found at the bottom of a ravine along California's coastal highway. Both Stephen and John went to the funeral and sat in the parking lot toasting shots to the unfortunate beloveds until Sheriff's Deputies encouraged them to move along.

Upon learning the particulars of my troubles, Stephen was quiet for a long time before proceeding.

"So David, given your views on marriage and divorce, I don't see you letting this outside bastard take her from you and since you can't legally stop her from leaving, the choices are somewhat narrowed, yes?'

"My friend, you are, as usual, right about that. I have always taken my vows seriously and of course, you know my view on divorce. The problem, as I see it, is how to remove the fucker from my life and do it in such a way that she knows beyond any doubt, any fucking doubt, that leaving me is never an option for her, not in this manner anyway. Now, to be honest with myself, I'm not going to kill her or hurt her or even force her to stay. I have been in love with the woman for 25 years and I know beyond any doubt she still loves me too. As I've explained, the god damn kinky fuck she is into has plucked her right out of reality."

Stephen tipped his beer up and finished it. His lips turned up into one of his famous grins and he placed his hands on my shoulders. OK, he was problem solving.

"David, do you trust me?"

I nodded.

"Good, then we're going to save your fucking life. I need to talk with John first but if you will trust us with the details, we going to make this OK."

I nodded again, not knowing what in the world he had in mind but I trusted him. We were closer than brothers. Marylyn and I had traveled to visit with Stephen and Cindy over the weekend so the women were minding the culinary quarters as we tended to the beer and spirits. All other things aside, it was an enjoyable weekend and after a couple further discussions with Stephen, we parted company being none the wiser regarding what he had in mind. It didn't matter. If Stephen told me he would handle something, I knew without doubt he would and would have my interests at heart. I never let myself forget that over the coming months and that comfort steadied me for what I knew would be the great ruin of my marriage as well as its rebirth.

So now, we approach my witching hour. On Monday, I received a call from John to meet with him at a park along the river. We discussed the timing of Marylyn's divorce filings. When not traveling, they were getting together at an apartment Morgan had rented not far from his offices. It was to be her new home when she consummated her break from reality. John merely absorbed it all, smiled softly and told me we would meet again Friday afternoon after Marylyn and Morgan concluded another of their perverse copulations. It would be prior to her having me served that evening in our home.

To say this was becoming bizarre would be understating it. I was becoming further detached with each day of the week. Wednesday brought a completely unexpected event.

"Good day, Mr. Stone. This is Sarah Stanhope. How are you doing this morning?"

OK, that call was unexpected. I never addressed her as Sarah nor did I know she used her maiden name. I paused for a moment and then replied.

"Ma'am' I am doing fine. What can I do for you?"

"Well, first you can stop with the ma'am business, David. I think I was only 2 or 3 years ahead of you in school. You should call me Sarah, OK? That is what you used to call me those years ago."

"Ok. Sarah it is. What can I do for you, Sarah?"

"Good, right to the point. Can you break away today to meet me for lunch at Daddy's place? "

When the boss's daughter wants lunch at the boss's place, the answer is expected.

"Of course I can, Sarah. What is the occasion?"

"We have some personal business, David, something the two of us can discuss when you arrive."

"OK, I will arrive at Noon."

"Wonderful. I will see you then. Goodbye, David."

Her husband was fucking my wife and I worked for her father and now I am having lunch with her to discuss personal business. Perhaps she needs her portfolio realigned. When I arrived at the Stanhope residence, I parked off to the side next to the carriage house as I usually did. This time I walked to the front of the house and rang the bell. Elizabeth, one of Mr. Stanhope's personal assistants, answered the door and ushered me to the veranda where Mrs. Morgan, Sarah Stanhope now, was seated and waiting. She was always an attractive woman, full figured with just a few soft pounds to augment her femininity. The pale yellow dress she wore openly displayed those breasts and her cleavage, accented by a single strand of white pearls. She was a picture of feminine money. For the life of me I could not figure out why any man would abandon such a woman but then my own wife was abandoning me for a brute. She rose from her seat with a huge smile and hugged me.

"David, I am so happy you could come today. Come and take a seat here. Elizabeth will see that we are served shortly. So David, How are you and Daddy doing with the Landskill developments?"

Landskill was a condo development along the river that Mr. Stanhope had invested in a couple years ago and we just broke ground on it three months back. I could not fathom that Sarah had me out here to discuss that.

"It is going well. We have started the pouring already and I think the contractors told us we are running about a month ahead of schedule at this point."

She looked down at her lap and turned her eyes up to mine and whispered

"You know about it, David, right?"

I peered back trying to take the next step in the conversation but couldn't. She continued.

"I'm certain you know about him, David. Our people discovered a couple of other investigators who were monitoring their activities. I can only assume you know and if per chance you do not, I will certainly confide in you."

I nodded.

"Good, or as the circumstances might indicate, not so well. The miserable shit for brains has been fucking her for months now. I should say, using her because for the life of me I cannot understand why anybody would consider what he does a good fuck!"

She glanced down and then peered up with considerable more fire in her eyes. I raised my hand and interjected.

"Sarah, if you know this much, then my own investigators were not as discreet as they should have been and I shall have to have a discussion with them. In any event, yes, I have known for some time and in fact I suspect she is ready to leave me."

"David, I wanted to share something with you."

She pushed a small laptop toward me and started a video. When it started, it showed Roger Morgan leaving the apartment with the door closing behind him. Marylyn was lying on the bed in her usual position and I could see his seed leaking from her used cunt. My anger started to rise seeing this in the presence of another. Then I watched as she sat up and began softly weeping. In earlier videos she had always left first and always composed. This was different. I watched as she rose and retrieved her phone from her purse which was sitting right next to where a camera had been placed to capture the scene. It was a different view than those we had. It was at bed height behind a side table on the wall. Her abused pussy and then her ass filled the screen as she retrieved her phone before returning to the bed. Sitting down, she punched a number.

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byMainefiddleheads© 58 comments/ 43319 views/ 33 favorites

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