tagLoving WivesThe Fate of Her Lovers

The Fate of Her Lovers


Chapter 1

My wife, Juanita, set across the breakfast table from me, just as we had for the last twenty-four years of our married life. It was a Thursday morning in late September and the leaves of the trees in our backyard had begun to turn various shades of yellow and tan. She was enjoying that view through the window of our breakfast nook, while I read the morning paper. It was a familiar scene in our empty nest for the last two years since our youngest daughter got married and moved out.

Occasionally, we'd discuss an interesting news story as we ate, so when I flipped the page and saw the article about a man being found dead in a local cheap hotel, it intrigued me. I read it, noting an all-to-familiar name. I read all the details with an intense fascination to see if it could be the man I thought it was. It did seem possible; however he was a former coworker of my wife, so I needed to ask her if it was possibly him.

"According to this article, a man was found dead in a hotel room last night. His name was Darren Scott; didn't you used to work with a Darren Scott, dear?"

Juanita made a noise as she took a sharp intake of breath. "Yes, a few years ago, but it might not be the same person," she forced herself to be calmer.

"The paper says he was thirty-four and lived across town on Drury Lane, with his wife and three kids. Does that sound like him?"

"Yes...yes it does," she replied a little more nervous. "Does it say how he died?"

"Yes, he was in room thirty-two of the Seaside Motel—you know that sleazy rent-by-the-hour motel. He was tied to the bed, castrated, and had his dick shoved into his mouth. The police think it may have been the work of a jealous husband, but are not ruling out..."

Juanita had covered her mouth with her hand and ran from the kitchen towards the bathroom. I had a satisfied smirk on my face, because Darren had gotten his, and now Juanita was reaping the emotions that run through your mind when it seems that a former lover of yours was brutally murdered by someone thought to be "a jealous husband."

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

My mind rolled back over our life together; we met just out of college. I was hanging with some friends in a bar and she was there with some of her friends. Juanita wasn't the prettiest one of the bunch, but by far not the ugliest. My buds slowly paired up with her group, and we ended up chatting and one thing lead to another. Seventeen months later, we were married.

We had a normal marriage, a few ups and downs, a son, Bryan, after a year and a daughter, Amber, two years after that. They are both married and one lives in a town an hour away, while my son lives about three hours away in the other direction. We lived our lives making time for baseball games, basketball games, piano lessons, and other after school activities. Neither of the kids were good enough to get a scholarship, so we were still paying off their student loans (and would be for the next seven years) which kept us on a fairly tight budget. Neither Juanita nor I worked jobs that required much travel nor overtime, so we knew where the other one was, because we were usually at home with the kids, doing things as a family. So, there we are, I'm Jack and 47 to Juanita's 46, and we're still in decent shape. She says I look better now than I did when we met; I think the same of her, as the few pounds she added to the curves in all the right places.

It was only a week ago on Wednesday, that I was rummaging through the "junk drawer" in my wife's dresser, looking for the sewing kit to fix a seam in my lucky bowling shirt, when I saw a red leather bound book. It had the words "Dear Diary" on the front and I couldn't believe that Juanita still kept her old diary from when she was young. I wondered if it covered the time when we met and what she had to say about me. I cautioned myself that it may not be very flattering, as I was more infatuated with her, than her with me, at first.

I was shocked when the date on the top of the first page was March 15, 2011, only two and a half years ago! My curiosity piques, I began to read how a younger English coworker of hers, a Darren Scott, had begun to flirt a lot with her. She was concerned that he may be trying to seduce her, but wrote "that will never happen." She noted that as a mid forties woman, it made her feel young and attractive again, and she didn't realize how much she missed that kind of excitement in her life.

She wrote that the reason for this diary was that she was bursting at the seams to tell someone about this, but she couldn't tell anyone because several of her girlfriends had bragged about over the boundary flirting to her, and she always chastised them severely for even considering to flirt back, knowing how easily these things get out of control and end in a messy divorce. Obviously, she couldn't confide in her husband on this subject, hence the diary. She promises herself to keep it light and never let things go too far.

Over the next few weeks, she laments that her children don't need her anymore and it was only going to be worse after Amber got married and moved away. She also commented that I'm as boring as staring at a picture of an albino cow in a blizzard. She notes that I joined a Wednesday night bowling league recently and she hardly notices when I'm not there. She complains that if this is all she has to look forward to in life, she'll just go crazy!

I looked up from the book, and rhetorically asked aloud, "Why didn't she say something to me? I had no idea it was so bad for her? I'll have to think of something to spice things up a bit..."

Then I went back to reading and my mood went from sympathetic and sad, to angry and hurt. She began to rationalize how having a one-time fling with Darren would add a little spice to her life. She added that I could benefit as well. She had other reasons, which were all bullshit of course, why she should do it, but just once.

Finally, she decided that if she was very careful and discrete, she could do this dastardly deed "for our benefit," and not get caught. They planned and agreed to meet at the Seaside Motel, room thirty-two after taking the afternoon off. She had all these romantic notions of how this and that would be, after being lead down the path to marital destruction by a silver tongued, experienced player and wife-seducer.

Reality had a rude awakening planned for her. We don't live in an immaculate home, as we were the neighborhood home where all the kids came over to play. Our home was usually cluttered with toys, video games, sports equipment, or whatever they were doing that day. The kids would pick it up, of course, but keeping the "neighborhood playhouse" spotless would've taken too much time from being with our family. We were clean, but not "Mr. Clean" clean. Room thirty-two of the Seaside Motel, which was about thirty years past its prime, was far below even our definition of a clean hotel room. Juanita immediately began to worry about bugs, and if the sheets were replaced after the last occupants. She was very detailed and descriptive of this event.

Lust pushed all those thoughts form the forefront of her mind as Darren began his physical seduction. Soon, they were naked and doing the horizontal mambo. When she started to get fully aroused, Darren began to talk, "I bet old Jack can't fuck you this way, can he?"

She didn't know how to respond, so she ignored him, concentrating on acting more aroused to help Darren's ego. "That feels so good...keep doing it!"

Darren would not be denied, "Jack doesn't do it for you anymore, does he?"

"Jack does fine...let's not talk about him right now..."

"If poor old Jack did it for you, you wouldn't be here with me, would you? No, you'd be at home in bed with him. I bet he can't even get his little wimp dick hard anymore, can he?"

"Please, leave him out of this...I'll start feeling guilty..."

"You can feel guilty later! Right now, you're my sexy bitch, and I'm fucking you like you haven't been fucked in years!"

To make his point, he thrusted several times extra hard and deep, forcefully reaching spots that Jack hadn't touched in a long time. "Oh, yes!" She yelled, jumping up two steps on the ladder to orgasm. "Yes....YES!"

Darren took this to mean that she was now on board with the "let's denigrate the husband" train. "That's right, baby! I'm fucking you like Jack never could—and you know it!"

Juanita was hearing what he said, but thinking more of her own arousal, absent mindedly repeating, "...never could..."

He heard her reply and took it up another notch, "When we do this next time, we should do this in your bed and let Jack watch to see how a REAL man satisfies a real woman like you! He'd just sit there and play with his little limp dick when he saw what I'm packing! I'd make him get us drinks between rounds of fucking your brains out! I might even make him wear a sissy maid outfit! If he did good, I might even let him suck me hard for the next round..."

Darren plowed her deep and froze his thrust deep within her as he released his load. Juanita had been so shocked by his talk that she'd lost all arousal and was getting queasy thinking about his sick fantasy involving Jack. As he quickly rolled off of her, she got up to go to the bathroom.

"Was it good for you babe?" he inquired dreamily.

"It was until you started talking shit about Jack! If you ever talk about him like that again, I'll bust your balls so hard that they'll make Humpty Dumpty's fall look like a five piece puzzle! You have disappointed me in so many ways this afternoon..." She searched for words.

"Let me make this perfectly clear for you; you are never getting your hands on me again! You will never speak a word to anyone of this regrettable episode, either. If you do, your wife will hear about this, and I happen to know that you'd have more to lose from a divorce than I do! Think about how much child support is for three kids for the next ten to twelve years! She'd have the house on Drury Lane and you'd live on 'dreary lane!' I can't believe that I've risked my marriage and happy life for you!"

She slammed the door to the bathroom where she quickly cleaned up and got dressed. If she needed any more reinforcement of how cheap this place and her affair was, the screaming of the woman in the next room was easily heard through the walls, as she encouraged her lover to "fuck me deeper!" She wondered if they'd heard as her and Darren as he ran Jack down.

She went home, showered and cried the rest of the afternoon. "When Jack came home," she wrote, "he asked why I was so sad," which she blamed on Amber's moving out after the upcoming wedding. She felt bad lying to me, but couldn't let me know how she'd betrayed our vows and especially how she'd gotten so little in return. She commented that she got what she deserved out of the affair, and vowed that she'd never do it again. She couldn't stand the thought of how much she could've hurt me by what she'd done.

She promised to turn over a new leaf and be a better wife to me, in every way she could think of—including adding an occasional blowjob. She noted that she hadn't given me one in close to five years (pretty close; it was on our twentieth anniversary when we stayed at the Deluxe Suite at the Ritz). She was going to be more attentive and fix my favorite meals more often. Even though I'd never know why, she was going to make it up to me.

How fucking great! The bitch cheated on me, and I remembered how she was so good to me, like she described, during all the chaos in the months before Amber's wedding. When I had complimented her on it, she said that she was caught up in the romance of the wedding and wanted me to know how much she loved and appreciated me. The lying bitch was just trying to relieve her guilt! Well, at lest she'd learned her lesson, or had she? I read on...

- - - - - - - - -

Being the concerned husband that I am, I folded the paper, put it on the breakfast table, and went to check on her. By that time, she was sitting on the edge of our bed with a tissue. "So, I can assume by your reaction that it was the same guy? I didn't think you knew him all that well. How close were you?" I asked, twisting the knife a little.

"He was just a guy that worked with us for a while. He wasn't the nicest guy in the office, but he didn't deserve that kind of death. I was thinking of his wife and kids, as well. They didn't deserve that."

"From what the article implied, he was a serial womanizer and the list of suspects is as long as your arm—if they can ever find them all! What they didn't deserve was a father and husband like that! Now his wife can find a real man to care for her, like I've cared for you and our kids all these years." I used the phrase 'real man' and from the shiver she made when I said it, the meaning was not lost on her. "Since you seem to be alright, I'm off to work."

I leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek since her head was still lowered where she couldn't look me in the eye. There was a happy spring in my step for the fist time in a week as I went to work that day. Ain't Karma a bitch?

Juanita noticed the light steps as I left and made a mental note to keep a closer eye on me, wondering if I knew anything about their affair, if you could call that one afternoon disaster an "affair."

Chapter 2

It was Thursday morning again, and gradually we had settled back into our routine. I no longer noticed the sidelong glances Juanita gave me occasionally as we watched the boob tube for several days after the scene last week. A few more leaves had fallen from the trees in our backyard.

Juanita commented, "The weather is supposed to be good Saturday, so you need to get some of those leaves raked up before they get too deep."

"I agree," I said as I sat down in my chair and picked up the paper. "I already had it on my schedule this weekend."

"How was bowling last night? It was late when you got home and I was too tired to stay up any longer."

"I did okay with a 225, 178, and a 231. We won by only three pins, so we held onto second place. Sorry about it being late, but it was Jeff's birthday and we stayed to have a few beers with him."

I unfolded the paper, and on the bottom of the front page, there was an article of another man found dead. The headline was, "Serial Killer Feared." I quickly scanned it with much interest as it was very similar to the one last week.

"Geez, I can't believe that it happened again. Listen to this, they found another man killed similar to your friend. This time, he was found in his apartment, though. He was castrated again, and this time, they shoved it up his ass. What do you make of that, dear?"

"That's terrible! Did this guy have a family?" she anxiously asked.

"No, he was a single guy named Thomas Reardon; he lived close to where you work on Bleaker Street. Did you know him?"

She made a mad dash for the porcelain throne. I smirked again, probably a little bigger this time, but no one was around to see it.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

As I continued to read her diary, she detailed more of what she did to feel better after her affair and then noted that since I was totally clueless, that she should back off before she raised my suspicions. She then had plenty to write about as the wedding approached. Shortly after the wedding, the entries became more mundane and sporadic to the point where there were only two in the whole month of August.

I was about to give up when they began to mention another man, recently divorced, was giving her compliments, a pattern I recognized, but she didn't seem to. Maybe he was slower and more subtle than Darren had been. Yes, Thomas Reardon entered my wife's life, and after less of a struggle with her conscience this time, since she'd gotten away clean and "paid her dues." It was early October when he was first mentioned, as well as how young and desirable he made her feel. He even brought her a flower for her desk a few times. She told him that she'd have to tell everyone that Jack sent it to her, or rumors would fly. He was okay with that, as she deserved them no matter who got the credit for sending them. Smooth bastard.

By Halloween, she'd agreed to meet him for a one time fling in his apartment. He lived nearby on Bleaker Street, and they could make it there for a quick nooner without taking anymore time off that she'd have to account for later. This time, he was trying for an extended affair, so he pulled out all the stops. He had rose petals on the bed, soft music playing, and candles burning in his darkened bedroom. He took more time with the seduction than Darren and she had her first orgasm as soon as he plunged himself into her. She had two more love explosions before he came, and they barely made it back to work on time.

She reminded him that it was just a once-in-a-lifetime thing, but with a lot less resolve than we she said it before they had "made love."

I looked up from the damned book...she used the term "made love!" They didn't fuck like she did with Darren, she fucking "made love" to him! I was already in an angry confused state about her giving in to a second lover, but this fucking took the cake!

It turned out that he kept up the assault on what was left of her virtue and three days later, they did it again on a Friday. They met again on Tuesday of the next week, but it wasn't all romance and roses like the first two meetings. This time, he demanded that she suck him hard for a second round. It seemed that it was over way too quick for both of them, but he was young (at twenty-eight) and he knew he could get it up again, but it would be quicker for their tight schedule if she'd blow him.

Reluctantly, she did and felt a little cheaper for the experience, but had four orgasms before returning to work that day. She opined that you give a little, you get a little. On subsequent meetings, it became part of their routine.

On their sixth get-together, he asked if he could have her ass. She quickly and firmly said no, that she'd never given that up for anyone and she wasn't about to start now. The next time, Thomas believed that the blow job thing worked because he was so forceful about it, so he thought a little force should be all it took to get what he wanted.

As she was coming down from her second orgasm, he pulled out of her, slapped some of the nearby opened jar of KY on his dick, and shoved it into her ass two inches before she knew what was happening. When she started to protest, he covered her mouth with his other hand, and began to work his dick around gently into her bowels. She was still on a sexual high, and began to relax, as his luckily thin dick worked deeper into her until she felt his balls against her ass. It wasn't as bad as she had imagined, but it was in no way as pleasurable as having it in her pussy.

Then he began to pound her tightest hole like a madman, filling her ass within less than a minute. He got up, washed his cock in the bathroom and returned to have her suck it hard again. She hesitated, but he assured her that he'd washed it thoroughly. She had one more weak orgasm after that, but felt more like a piece of meat than a lover. When he took her ass the next time they got together, she decided to end it with Thomas.

She went on to comment that this became a full fledged affair that was supposed to be a short fling, and she regretted that, but she didn't regret the romance and the wonderful feelings she had for their first few meetings, until he became controlling and obsessed with anal sex. In her guilt she says that she considered giving her ass to Jack, as part of the atonement process, but feared that it might make him suspicious to offer it to him after vehemently refusing it for all these years.

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