After twenty years of marriage, you can read the signs. Cynthia was preoccupied much of the time. She had to work late a several times a month. Her interest in her family seemed perfunctory, at best. I had hoped it was a phase, or a chemical, or hormonal thing that women go through. After a few months of hoping, I decided it was time to learn the truth, regardless of the pain that went with it.
The agency came very highly recommended. They were thorough, discreet, and very professional. I met with a manager for an hour and told him my fears and suspicions. Then I gave him a pretty good chunk of cash I had stashed away over the years.
Originally, I was saving the money on the side to take Cynthia on a nice vacation for our twentieth anniversary. That was before the nagging doubts surfaced. Now I was spending the money on detectives to follow Cynthia and report any "inappropriate activity" back to me.
'Inappropriate' encompasses such a wide range of activities. The truth was, I wanted to know if she was having an affair, and the agency understood that was what I wanted to know. We used euphemisms because it was less embarrassing, but we all knew the deal.
"I have to work late tonight, Gil. Feed the girls and don't wait up for me, okay?" blurted Cynthia as she headed for the door. I dropped my spoon into the cereal, and then dropped a bomb in her lap.
"You can make me believe it's work when you do it with me, Cynthia, but I think it's anything but work when you stay out late and do it. Or do you get paid for it?" I asked calmly.
Cynthia stopped dead in her tracks. She stood with her back to me for the count of ten and then she slowly turned around. Her face was unreadable. That would have been more proof, if I had needed it. An innocent woman would have spun around madder than hell.
'Just what are you saying, Gil? Are you suggesting something?" she asked.
"Well, yeah! If it is work you're doing, you should get paid for it. We could buy a new car if you had been charging," I replied.
"For what, exactly, should I be charging?" she countered.
It was the old 'admit nothing till the other guy shows all of his cards gambit' she had mastered over the years. I had played a few of those games and my cards were going to be slow in turning.
"I fully expect you would know better than I, Darling. Do you want me to draw up a price list so you know what to charge?" I shot back. "I guess a hand-job could be $25, a blow-job about $50, standard sex $100 and anal could be $150. I never actually paid for it, but we have to start somewhere. Want to make any revisions?"
"Have you lost your mind, Gil?" snarled Cynthia. "Do you think I'm walking the downtown streets when I work late? You need to get some help. That was a really cruel thing to say."
"Are you telling me you are not going to have sex tonight?" I asked bluntly.
"That's for goddamn certain, not after the way you just spoke to me, asshole!" retorted Cynthia. "Not tonight and not the foreseeable future."
"That's good to hear, Cynthia. There's no excuse for you to come home late then, is there?" I reasoned. "As long as you're taking the night off, you can be home at a decent hour. I'll make dinner and you can help clean up afterward."
Cynthia just stood there, mouth open but no words forming. Then she turned and left.
That evening I was taking the roast chicken out of the oven when Cynthia entered the kitchen. One glance at her told me she had a change of heart.
"I guess I have been working late quite a bit lately. You and the girls deserve more attention, Gil," Cynthia admitted. "I'm taking you up on your offer. It sure smells good."
Cynthia was a very attractive 42-year old woman. Time had only improved her curves. She looked great. When she was in the right mood, she was a lot of fun. That was the first 19 years of our marriage. It was only the past six months that she had become distant and aloof. Before that she had been a wonderful friend, lover, and companion. That was what really made the present situation so difficult.
We had a pleasant dinner, as a family. As I listened to our two daughters talk with their mother, I realized how much she meant to them. They loved their dad, but they shared things with their mother a man can't really understand. Shopping is much like water torture. Talking about shopping is more agony than a man should be expected to endure. The three of them managed it throughout the entire meal!
When we went to bed that night, Cynthia slid in with only her panties on. That had always been a signal that she was looking for a little love. The thing was, I wasn't even close to being in the mood.
"I thought you said you weren't going to have sex tonight," I reminded her. "You told me not in the foreseeable future, as I recall."
"You were behaving so oddly this morning. Your comments were less than kind and I got angry," Cynthia confessed. "I thought about it and realized it was probably frustration on your part. We haven't had the time to be intimate in a while. That is at least partly my fault, Gil. I don't want you to think I don't love you."
"Then you do love me, Cynthia?" I asked. "It has been three weeks, two days since we made love. It didn't seem to bother you."
"Wow! You have been keeping track? I didn't realize it has been so long, but I will make it up to you tonight, okay?" she smiled.
"Are you saying you do love me, Cynthia?" I repeated.
"Of course I do! You are the only man I have ever loved, or ever will," avowed Cynthia. "You know that."
"Would it be reasonable to think that if you loved me you would be faithful to me, totally?" I continued.
"Absolutely, Sweetheart," she answered. "Why are you asking these questions? You seemed to suggest this morning that I was having sex with someone, and it sounds like you are again tonight."
"You are totally faithful to me, Cynthia. You like being married to me and don't want to play the field?" I pressed.
"Yes! I am, but I am really beginning to resent your line of questioning," snapped Cynthia. "You've spoiled my mood."
"That's a real fucking shame," I growled back. "These may put you back in the mood. They're quite stimulating!"
I had reached under my pillow and pulled out a manila envelope and tossed it in front of Cynthia. I saw her hand tremble as she picked it up and slid its contents out.
Cynthia gasped as she looked at the pictures. She was the star, along with one Kurt Dugan, a fellow teacher at the local elementary school. They were in color and the quality was excellent. Her lips appeared to be cherry red as she wrapped them around his hard cock. You could see the moisture around her pussy as he readied his cock for entry. She had to admit they were good!
Cynthia quickly looked at the picture and flung them toward the wastebasket. The she started crying. I wasn't feeling all that well either, but my tears had already been shed. I sat in bed and waited. It took almost ten minutes, but Cynthia finally stopped her sobbing and was able to speak.
"Gil, it was just a fling. I don't love him. I love you! Please forgive me. I'm so sorry!" she blubbered.
"You just agreed that if you loved me, you would be faithful to me. Now you're telling me you can fuck around and still love me. I'm having a little trouble following your logic, Cynthia," I admitted. "Which is it?"
"I was lying to keep you from being hurt! The sex was just that. No love, no real connection. It was a biological function. That's all," she reasoned.
"You mean like shitting all over me is a biological function? I shouldn't take it personally?"
"Gil, please think this over before you do anything rash," pleaded Cynthia. "I could lose my job. Kurt could lose his job, and his marriage. His parents are our neighbors. All kinds of terrible things could happen!"
"Is this something you just realized, Cynthia, or did you expect to have all those things happen when you were caught?" I demanded. "Whose fault would it be, if you and Kurt were both fired, both divorced, and both embarrassed in front of your families? Whose fault, Cynthia?"
"Ours. Kurt's and mine, really," sobbed Cynthia. "No one would blame you."
"Was the sex that good, that much better than with me? If it wasn't love, was it about great sex?" I suggested.
"It wasn't better, Gil. It was like when we first dated. It was exciting. He isn't better than you, just different. I'll tell him I can never see him again, okay?" Cynthia begged.
"What the hell kind of prick do you think I am? It would pretty damn selfish to stand between you and some great sex, wouldn't it? I've had a couple weeks to think about this situation and I've come up with a solution," I replied.
"My God! You've known for a couple weeks? You never let on. I had no idea!" moaned Cynthia.
"Actually, I've been suspicious longer than that. I have shut you off for three weeks and two days. Sadly, you haven't noticed. That speaks a lot about our situation, doesn't it? If I hadn't been so bitchy this morning, it may have gone on for years with Kurt getting all your best, and me getting shit upon."
"I wasn't thinking straight, Gil. I didn't mean to neglect you. It would never have gone on for years, I swear. It was just a fling," assured Cynthia.
"Interesting comment, Cynthia. How long is the shelf life of one of your affairs? What is your average? A few months? A year? Several years?" I asked angrily.
"Gil! I have never been unfaithful before Kurt! I am not a common slut that jumps from bed to bed. That may sound strange at the moment, but it's true!" Cynthia retorted. "This was my first, and last, affair. We didn't have any time frame, but we both knew it was a temporary thing, nothing long lasting. He'll understand when I tell him I can never see him again,"
"There you go again, Cynthia. You are painting me to be pretty bad here. Did I say anything about ending the affair?"
"Wha... what do you mean, Gil? You have the pictures. The jig is up. It's over between us, I promise. Give me the chance to show you how much I love you, please!" cried Cynthia.
"I've given you almost twenty years and I'm far from convinced, Cynthia," I replied. "How long do you think it should take? I'm lucky if I have another thirty years left."
"Gil! I don't know how long! I hope a few months or a year. I'll do anything you ask. It could be a new start for us."
"That would be something new, for me. From the pictures, there really isn't much that could be new to you. It might be new if you did it with me, but you are a very experienced woman now. It would be difficult to find something new for you, wouldn't it? I bet you could teach me a few things that you've learned, couldn't you?" I suggested.
Cynthia looked at me. I could see she was attempting to decide if I was serious or not. Was she considering taking me up on my suggestion! When she looked away, I could see she had realized it wouldn't be smart to propose anything at the moment.
"I have the impression that you felt you would be able to talk, and fuck, your way back into my heart and life when, not if, you were caught, Cynthia. You said it might take you up to a year to make it up to me. Am I that shallow? You think I'm that pussy-whipped? I can see you have no idea what you've done to me. The problem is, I can also see that revenge, or whatever it may be called, would hurt a lot of people and not really be worth my effort. I am not going to take that road."
"What are you going to do, Gil? I'm a few years from my pension and Kurt has over ten years to go. We need our jobs! I need you and the girls, and he loves his family, too."
"Please save that shit for someone that doesn't know the truth, Cynthia. You told me this evening that a person would remain faithful to someone they loved. I can only surmise that you and Kurt do not love your respective spouses, or families, by your own admission," I concluded.
"Gil! You have to believe I love you with all my heart! It was one mistake in over twenty years. I'm only human," cried Cynthia.
"You seem to feel that you should spend a few minutes in the penalty box and then get back in the game," I observed. "Are couples that remain faithful their entire lives inhuman, sub-human, or superhuman?"
"What are we going to do, Gil? What are you going to do?" asked Cynthia.
"Here's how it's going to be. If you can't accept my terms, we divorce immediately, the school board learns of the affair of two of its married teachers, as do the families of both offenders," I began.
Cynthia remained quiet as I laid my cards on the table.
"You're having great sex, so keep having your affair with lover-boy. I don't want to be the cause of an unsatisfied libido, at least not again. I've been to blame for that for almost twenty years and the guilt is tremendous.
"You are to meet with him twice a week, as you have been. I just don't want you to fuck him in my bed, or my house again. You cannot tell him that I know what a prick he is and that he's been fucking you. This doesn't sound too bad, does it?" I asked. "Essentially, you will do as you have been, except you won't be sneaking around and cheating."
"You will be his lover, whore, slut, dream-girl, or whatever you consider yourself to be. You will always keep me informed as to where and when you are fucking and sucking him. In return, I will help you keep your secret and not reveal your adultery to the world. Is that fair enough?" I asked.
"You want me to keep seeing him? What kind of husband would do that? Do you have weird sexual fantasies or something?" Cynthia wondered out loud.
"I'm sure I do, but they don't involve you anymore, so rest easy," I smiled. "I think you planned on fucking this guy until I found out. Then you expected me to have a shit-fit and then forgive you. I don't want this to go as you expected. Even if it's gone better than you expected, it isn't what you thought would happen. That's my goal at this time. We have an agreement then? You don't tell Kurt I know, and you keep putting out for him. And you never lie to me again?"
"This is really weird, but count me in, Gil. I don't see what choice I have, to be honest. How long will this go on?" Cynthia asked.
"I would say one year from today, or until I decide you have to end it, whichever comes first," I replied.
"Okay, I'll do it, but no one would ever believe this," marveled Cynthia.
So began the great experiment. I had given the entire thing a lot of thought. I had loved Cynthia without reservation, and she had betrayed me badly. I needed to make her see what she had done, and tossing her sorry ass out would have had all kinds of ripple effects on the kids, and even Kurt's family. I knew his parents, his wife, his kids, and destroying their lives was not a worthy goal. Besides, it was always an option I retained, if it came down to it.
Cynthia was very nervous around me for a few days. That was to be expected, though. I am a patient man. One evening she told me that Kurt wanted to get together with her on Saturday. His wife was taking their three kids to visit her grandmother for the weekend. She was returning Monday, so Kurt was not making the trip with her.
"I think we can work something out, Cynthia. Suppose I take the girls someplace for the weekend? You can spend the night with him and fuck him silly," I suggested. "We'll tell the girls you have to work and can't come with us. See how much better this is than sneaking around?"
"Sure, Gil. It'll work. Where will you take the girls?" asked Cynthia.
"I was thinking of going to Philadelphia. We'll go to the museum, see Independence Hall, have a dinner in one of those great restaurants and maybe see a show," I mused. "We'll see a few more sights Sunday and come home. You should have Kurt fucked out by then, don't you think?"
"I wish you would find a new way to phrase my meetings with Kurt, Gil. And why can't you do that stuff when I can make it, too?" whined Cynthia. "They're all things I like to do."
"We're both adults, Cynthia. You fuck the guy. He fucks you. You suck his cock. You get the idea. Don't get indignant at this point," I snapped. "I am taking the girls to get them out of your hair, even if it's your pubic hair."