Two Birds with One Stone

I completely understand that posting stories in the Loving Wives category of Literotica puts a writer in the crosshairs of the toughest critics on this site, especially since about early 2017. I don't know what happened at about that time, but I know that scores dropped off considerably since then and the comments have gotten rougher.

I've got broad shoulders, however, and continue to post here because I like the challenge. I get that Loving Wives is more weighted toward BTB than RAAC, and almost any kind of a cuckold story will be dragged down. Still, every now and then I've gone off the deep end and taken some chances, and in most cases been crushed for them, although some have considered the attempt.

A lot of people didn't get my last effort, but a few did, and their comments were especially good ... and funny. So as a salute to those who made my day, I say thank you. You will see your "curtain call" several times within this story.

Rrrriiinnnggg!! Rrriiinnnggg!!

Son of a bitch! Got the house to myself, the game on the big screen, two cold ones down and more sitting in the mini cooler right next to my La-Z-Boy, and someone's calling on the phone. Better not be one of those asshole sales calls, or a robo-call. Someone's getting their head bitten off.

It was about 8 p.m. on a Wednesday night. My wife, Traci, often worked late on Wednesdays, and I always made plans for a night out of fun or a relaxing night in. Tonight was a night in. I put away a medium meats pizza from Papa John's earlier with a couple of beers, then turned on the Cubs game and started to unwind with some more Coronas. I had two more in the little cooler next to me and another six in the fridge in the kitchen. This was going to be a good night. The wife would walk in around 10, take a quick shower and we would be spooning by about 11. Wednesday was a quiet night at the Avendales'.

This phone call, however, was going to ruin my karma. I just knew it. But being the responsible guy I am, I answered it anyway. Turns out it was Chel Tremaine, the wife of Traci's boss, Jacques, who was practically hysterical. Seems Jacques had a heart attack while he was working with Traci, my wife, who called 911, and the paramedics had transported him to the hospital in bad shape. Chel told me Traci went with Jacques in the ambulance, and would need a ride home as Chel intended to stay as long as Jacques needed her. I told her I was on my way, and wished the best for Jacques.

Jacques had been Traci's boss for 22 years. She had started working for his software company right out of college, and had moved up to where she was now his right-hand man, so to speak, as well as his "work wife." I was already dating Traci when she went to work for Jacques, and through the years our families have had occasion to do things together. He seemed to be a good guy, Traci said he was a fabulous boss, and he took good care of Traci in the paycheck department as well.

Jacques, a citizen of France, is 10 years older than Traci and me at 55. He is a handsome guy who works out and has a decent body for a guy his age. He's a dynamic personality, the center of attention in a crowd. Both men and women gravitate to him. I understand that God has a plan for all of us, regardless of how well we take care of ourselves, but I have to admit to being surprised that Jacques had a heart attack.

I parked my car in a visitors' lot just off the emergency room, walked in, and asked about Jacques. I told the nurse at the desk that I was the husband of the woman who came in with him, and I was also looking for her.

As I said this, I noticed a pair of EMTs just off to my right. One quietly tagged the other on the forearm and whispered, just loud enough for me to hear, "Cuck's here. Wonder which way this'll go."

Although he was looking in my direction, I had no clue as to what he was talking about. I didn't know what a "cuck" was, nor did I really worry about it. I was just looking for Traci.

Five minutes later, Traci and Chel both came out of a room, tears streaming down both faces. They spotted me and headed over, and we embraced in a group hug.

"He's gone, Rick," Traci half-wailed as we hugged. "He died a few minutes ago. Doctor said it was a massive heart attack. He's gone."

I was stunned into silence as the three of us hugged in the hallway, both women bawling hard.

Chel, also a French citizen, had been married to Jacques for 35 years. They had married when they were both 20 and had come to this country when Jacques got a job with an
American software company at the dawn of the computer age. They have a daughter, Aimee, who is three years older than my daughter, Allison, who is 18, and the girls look enough alike that they could be sisters. Jacques treasured Aimee. This was going to be very hard on her, I thought to myself.

Just then one of the EMTs came over to me, and asked me if I was Traci's husband. I said I was, and he handed me Traci's purse, telling me she left it in the ambulance when they arrived at the hospital. I had separated myself from the crying women, and as I took it in my left hand I thanked him and shook his right hand with mine. I then started to wrap the dangling strap around the purse to get it out of the way when I thought I saw a bra stuffed into the middle. That didn't make any sense to me, so I took a second look, and sure enough, there was a bra tucked into the purse.

Things were so crazy when the women came out of the room wailing that I never really took a good look at Traci. She was indeed braless, I noticed. That was odd, I thought to myself.

I don't know how much longer we stayed at the hospital with Chel before she decided she needed to leave. Aimee was going to get in from her university in the morning, and Chel decided she needed to get some sleep. I drove Chel home, then took Traci and me to our house. I figured I could help both women get their cars tomorrow, Chel from the emergency room lot and Traci from the work lot.

Traci didn't said a word to me when we got in the door, heading right up to the main bathroom and getting in the shower. She joined me in the family room about 20 minutes later, her eyes red and swollen from all the crying. She sat on the sofa, and I got out of my La-Z-Boy and joined her, pulling her in for a tight hug. She was breathing raggedly, and I felt her body wrack with sobs. I wanted to ask her about the braless thing, considering she was supposed to be working with Jacques, but I didn't have the heart to go there with her tonight. Instead, I quietly held her for another 20 minutes, until she said she was tired and going to bed. It was midnight, so I figured I would turn in with her.

I called in for a personal day the next morning, and after getting a shower and shave, I offered to take Traci to the office to her get car. She suddenly looked gut-punched and started to stammer before taking some time to breath and calm down. She asked me to take her to Chel's instead, and they would get a cab and go to the office and get some of Jacques' things. Then Traci would drive Chel to the hospital to fill out some paperwork and collect Jacques' personal effects. I offered to help, but was quickly rebuffed.

That actually worked out pretty good for me. I needed to find the EMTs who handled the emergency last night and get a couple of questions answered. After dropping off Traci at Chel's and getting a brief update on how she was doing, I jumped back in the car and went straight to the hospital. I quickly was able to get the name of the EMTs who handled the emergency, and was told where to find them.

I found my targets at the fire station that I was directed to, and they remembered me from the night before. I looked at the one who had handed me Traci's purse, his nametag listed him as Gage, and asked him directly where the run had started.

For the second time in a short while someone stammered out an answer to me.

"Wh-wh-what do you mean?" he asked, suddenly eyeing me suspiciously.

"My wife and Jacques were supposed to be working, but you didn't pick them up at Softel, did you? Isn't that why you referred to me as 'cuck'?"

"Oh, shit! Jesus buddy! I didn't mean anything personal," he said, raising his voice. "It's just that we've seen enough of these runs where the two people checked into a room aren't husband and wife, and when the shit hits the fan we're the bad guys. Shoot the goddamn messenger!"

"Easy Gage. I'm not trying to stick you with anything. I'm just trying to get to the truth. I had to look up 'cuck,' and I didn't like what I saw, but I don't figure that's your problem. Apparently it's my problem if you tell me you picked them up anyplace other than Softel."

"We started the run at the West Side Hotel," Gage answered. "Seems they were about 15 minutes into it when the guy just grabbed his chest and keeled over on your wife. She actually had to push him off of her to get to the phone to call 911, and in the meantime she gave him mouth to mouth.

"He was barely alive when we got him to the ER."

I had the truth. I didn't need more. I thanked both of them and left. I could feel them watching me with pity in their eyes as I left.

My mind was reeling as I drove home. Traci was fucking Jacques when he just about died of a heart attack. How long had this been going on, I wondered. Then, it struck me -- actually thunderstruck me: our daughter Allison and their daughter Aimee didn't just look alike by coincidence. They were sisters! Traci had been fucking him for at least 19 years! How could I not have seen this before now?

What a fucking, trusting idiot I was. She and Jacques worked late at least once a week, sometimes twice, and then there were the occasional girls' nights out or work crew out nights. Was she fucking him all those times? What about on the business trips they took together?

How did Chel not know? I'll admit I can be a clueless bastard sometimes, but how could a woman be that clueless, especially with the girls looking so much alike. And Chel was always around the business, Traci noted, dropping in at all hours just to say hi to her husband -- or her. I thought they were good friends, the way it appeared. How could Traci do that to Chel?

Traci's car was in the garage when I got home. She was sitting in the family room drinking a glass of wine when I walked in. Apparently the look on my face told her I was unhappy.

"What's wrong, Sweetie?" she inquired.

Although I wanted to play it cool, my anger got the best of me and I couldn't hold back.

"How long had you been fucking Jacques?" I blurted out, venom dripping from my voice as my volume rose. "He's Allison's father, isn't he?"

Traci dropped her wine glass as she shot up from the sofa. "How ... how ... how could you say such a horrible thing to me," she screamed as she practically charged into me. She stopped about a foot from me, eyes glaring lasers, and if looks could kill, I would have been dead on the spot.

I wasn't about to back down. I was right, and I knew it. I held my ground, glaring back into those eyes. But I did cut my volume down, to practically a whisper, as I hissed, "Tell me to kiss your ass, but don't dare lie to me and tell me I'm wrong. I'll knock your fucking teeth down your throat if you tell me a lie!"

Never before in our 20 years of marriage and our relationship before that had I cursed at my wife, let alone threatened to do her physical harm. To say she was shocked was an understatement. Her mouth flew open as if she was going to respond, but then apparently she realized I was serious, and the lie died in her throat. She also took a quick hop back from me. Maybe it was the fact that I had flames coming from my eyes.

"You killed him, you know?" I said to her as she sat back down on the sofa, ignoring the spilled wine on the carpet. "The stress of cheating, together with the physical activity, was probably way too much for his heart. I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner, considering how much you two were fucking."

I could see by the stricken look on her face that I had hit a nerve. She looked down at her hands and fidgeted for what seemed like minutes, but in reality was probably only 10 seconds.

"Oh my God! Do you think I really killed him?" she asked quietly. "I wonder if Chel is thinking that, too."

"Why would Chel be thinking that ... unless she knew about the two of you. Did she know about the two of you?"

"She knew and approved almost from the beginning," Traci said quietly. "Sometimes she even joined us, especially when she came along on the business trips.

"She always told me she thought it was right that I should get pleasure from Jacques for being such an important part of his business success, and she was glad that he had me taking care of him in the office while she took good care of him at home."

It was my turn to take a seat. I felt dizzy, confused.

"So I was the one out in left field? The only one not in the know? What about Allison?"

"Allison has known for the last four years. She's good with it."

"Oh shit. Allison knows and she's good with it? Oh fuck," I howled.

"But that's actually not what I meant. Chel knows that Allison is Jacques' child?"

"Chel knows and she's fine with it. Aimee knows, too."

"Well I hope you all had several good laughs at stupid old Rick's expense. Even my daughter -- his daughter, I guess -- knew and didn't tell me. Fucking wonderful!"

I stormed out of the house.

I wound up driving to a local park and just sitting there for a couple of hours. Traci called my cell a couple of times, but I let the calls go to message. I just sat there and thought. I had always considered myself a smart guy, but when it came to Traci I was a complete dumbass. I never gave a thought to her cheating on me, and I trusted her so completely that I probably let several semi-obvious signs go right past me ... for at least 19 years. So fucking clueless. I wondered if there were others besides Jacques. A blizzard of thoughts was pounding my brain.

I left the park when it started to get dark and drove home. As I entered the house from the garage, I could see the small light on in the kitchen above the table. Traci sat in her usual spot with a cup of tea in front of her. She offered me a cup, but I declined and went to my liquor cabinet for something much stronger. I poured a scotch and sat down in my chair across from her.

"I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am for hurting you," Traci said quietly while looking down at her hands.

"I need to know the whole story -- now," I said, with more than a little edge to my voice. "You need to tell me how you could do this to me while telling me you loved me. You need to tell me if you ever really loved me ... and respected me ..."

"Don't you dare doubt my love for you -- ever!" Traci said with an urgency in her voice. "I've always loved you, still love you. It's just that I also love ... loved ... Jacques. Some people think that you can only love one person at a time, but I know that's not true, because I loved two."

"Spare me. Get on with it," I said flatly.

Traci had joined Softel when the company was about a year old. As at many small companies, the few employees wore several hats, worked many hours and became close emotionally. It was an exciting time for her, and I remembered her telling me of the struggles during our dates. She and I had been dating about a year when she joined the company.

As the company got successful and grew, Traci became Jacques' right-hand man, so to speak. He was the dynamic face of the company, she was, in essence, the glue that held everything together. She was an excellent multi-tasker, and Jacques grew dependent upon her as his "other half." At the same time that the relationship was heating up between Traci and me away from the office, the relationship between Jacques and Traci was heating up at the office. It was almost as if her personal and work lives were running parallel, she noted.

Although Traci and Jacques kept it respectable in front of the rest of the office, she continued, away from the others they became even more attached, discussing everything from soup to nuts, from sex to politics. She was 24, beautiful, with an athletic body and long blonde hair. He was 34, a well-built man with long, wavy brown hair, an endearing smile, and an almost old-world courtliness. It was almost natural when they first made love on an old sofa in his office at the end of a long day, Traci remembered.

Because it felt so natural, Traci said she never had any guilt over sleeping with both me and Jacques, even when she and I got married a year later. It wasn't lust, it was a complete loving bond, similar but yet different to the one she and I shared. But she knew she could never tell me about it because of how I viewed infidelity. She loved both of us, and didn't want to give up either.

While I wasn't told of the affair, Chel was told by Jacques after about two months. When he and Traci figured out the affair was going to be long-term, he wanted to be completely honest with his wife, who had just given birth to the couple's first child. Chel and Aimee would always have the largest place in his heart, Traci said Jacques told Chel, but he wanted to keep a piece of his heart for Traci. Chel then invited Traci to spend a weekend with Jacques and her (I remembered her going away for the weekend under the pretense of an ill mother), and after that weekend, gave her blessing to the affair.

When Traci got pregnant several years later, it was Chel who took a worried Traci into her heart, and it was she who decided how the narrative was going to go if the child was indeed Jacques'. Since Jacques and I both had A+ blood, that took care of the easy part. And since I was almost never around both girls together by myself, when someone did notice the girls' resemblances, Chel or Traci almost always made some sort of flip remark about me "getting around," before laughing it off to sheer coincidence. Both women knew that if I had a chance to think about it, I might get suspicious.

Chel looked upon Traci almost like a younger sister, and was in fact proud of "Jacques' little family," Traci noted.

I sat dumbstruck during Traci's confession -- no, actually recollection -- as at no point did she express regret for what she had done, she was merely recalling events.

Traci stopped talking and looked at me like she expected me to say something. The only thing I could think of at that point was to ask if she and Jacques even took a break when we were first married and having sex virtually every day of the week. She looked sheepish and looked away before finally answering no.

"That was such an exciting time in my life. I had two handsome men who loved me and desired me, and I was extremely horny all the time," she said. "On the days where Jacques and I made love, I always made sure to clean myself real good down there in case we were going to have sex, too. Yes, sometimes you did get 'sloppy seconds,' but I tried to keep that to a minimum, and I never let you eat my pussy after Jacques and I made love."

"Awfully considerate of you," I mumbled.

"The funny thing is, after all these years, I never really compared the two of you sexually," she continued. "You were both good lovers, kind and attentive, and about the same size. It wasn't better sex with Jacques, just different, because of who each of you are ... were ..."

I have to admit that I was somewhat comforted by the fact that it wasn't just lust with a big-dicked stranger. But at the same time, I was hurt to the core by her admission that she loved him as well as me. I was raised to believe in one partner per person, one intimate soul for each of us. And while I might have been the one getting most of her intimacy, there was another out there sharing with me.