Not all stories that start out with "Once upon a time" have happy endings. The characters do not necessarily live happily ever after as was the case in this one. It started as a fair tale that my wife tried to tell me, but unfortunately for her (or me — depending on how you look at it) I knew the game she was going to play.
Once upon a time there was a marriage planned. Elise and I had grown up together and it had always been expected, at least by our mothers, that we would marry when we were old enough. Our mothers were best friends since grade school, they had gone to college together, belonged to the same sorority and even thirty years after graduation the two of them were extremely close. My mom had married first and Elise's mom had been her maid of honor and then my mom performed the same function for Elise's mother. When I was born Elise's mother became my godmother and when Elise was born my mother became her godmother.
The day after Elise was born our mothers began planning our wedding. The families took vacations together, celebrated holidays together and for all practical purposes we may as well have been just one large family. Being young Elise and I had no inkling of what our mothers had in mind for us, all we knew was that we were close. It wasn't until we reached the age where boys start to be interested in girls and girls started looking at boys that we began to get some idea of what our moms had planned. If I became interested in a girl my mother found some way to break us up. If Elise became fond of a particular boy her mom managed to put a quick end to it. For school dances Elise and I always found ourselves maneuvered into going together. She was my date for my senior prom and I was her date for hers.
The break came when I graduated from high school and moved on to college. Elise still had one year of high school left so in effect we were separated and I was no longer where my mother could try and control my life although Elise was still where her mother could micro-manage hers.
Against my mother's wishes I opted for the full college experience. She had wanted me to live at home and attend classes, but I wanted to live in the dorms, join a fraternity and do everything else most young college students do. Mom tried to pressure me, but I was attending college on scholarships so she had no financial leverage.
Away from home and her influence I found girls and for the first time I could go some place and do something with a girl who wasn't Elise. I dated quite a bit and had a great time. I lost my cherry at a frat house gangbang and I even dated the girl who was that nights punch board. We hung together for almost two months before we each moved on to greener pastures. At a mixer I met the wife of one of the grad students who was a teaching assistant and while I was never sure of who seduced who, she did teach me to eat pussy and then was kind enough to spread the word that I not only did it, but was good at it. I became very popular after that and never went a weekend without a date that usually ended up in my bed or the girl's.
Life was good and then Elise graduated high school and came to college.
At first it was just a case of showing Elise around and introducing her to some people. She was living at home and quite frankly I didn't expect to se much of her. I thought she would embrace the freedom as I had and start dating guys, but she didn't. What she did was attach herself to me. Well, maybe not attach, but she was never far away. For the first month or so she just watched and then one day after I'd spent a weekend with a hot little redhead Elise said:
"What do you see in her? She has the IQ of a grape."
From then on it was, "Why do you waste your time on her, she's a tramp" or " I know you have better taste than to spend your time with that pig."
After about a month of that I finally said, "Elise, instead of hacking away at the women I date why don't you go find some guys and do your own dating?"
"I'm not interested in other guys."
"Why not, you turn lesbo or something?"
I got a very indignant "Of course not" from that.
"So what's the problem?"
"Me? How am I the problem?"
"You've always been the one for me. I don't want anyone else, I want you."
To shorten the story a bit the bottom line is that the mothers got the wedding that they had been planning since the day Elise was born.
Fast forward six years to the day I came home from work early. I'd had an appointment not far from the house and I decided to go home and not go back to work. It was a Friday and I thought that I would get a head start on the weekend. I heard the shower running as I came in the front door so I headed toward the stairs and then I stopped as I noticed something. A shoe, more specifically a 'Come Fuck Me' pump (right foot if I remember right) was on the bottom step. As I headed up the stairs I found the other shoe on the top step and two steps down the hall I saw a bra on the floor. Skirt and thong were on the floor just inside the bedroom door, but the major attention getters in the bedroom were the torn up bed, the box of Trojans on the bedside stand next to the tube of KY Jelly and the three used and tied off rubbers on the floor next to the bed.
My first impulse was to storm into the bathroom, pull Elise out of the shower, drag her into the bedroom, point at the evidence and then call her a whore. Following that I would drag her downstairs and throw her naked ass out of the house. But even as I was taking steps toward the bathroom a little voice in the back of my head was telling me to back off, to find out more. I wasn't going to find out what I wanted to know from Elise because now I didn't trust her. She had cheated on me so it was obvious that she would lie to me too.
I quickly and quietly left the house and found me a pay phone. The Yellow Pages gave me the number of a private detective and I gave him a call. He was able to see me that afternoon and I made a quick trip down to his office and told him the story. I agreed to his fees and handed him the keys to my house and then headed back home getting there at my regular time.
All traces of Elise's afternoon activities were gone and my freshly scrubbed wife met me at the door with a kiss. I know it was twisted of me, but I was curious as to how Elise would feel after having been fucked by someone else. I swept her up in my arms and as I carried her to the bedroom I said:
"I want dessert first tonight. Dinner can wait."
Once in the bedroom I stripped and then I began to peel Elise. For some reason she didn't seem as enthused as she usually was and then I pulled her down on the bed and mounted her. The entire time I kept my eyes on her face and I thought I saw a touch of fear, the "Will he notice?" kind of fear and then a smidgen of "Does he suspect something?" The last one was probably brought on by a big change in our routine. I always ate her pussy before we made love, but not this time and she had to notice and it had to make her wonder. I was curious to see what she felt like, but no way was I going to eat her cunt after some other dude had just dumped in it.
She did feel different, but I couldn't put my finger on why. She had obviously douched because she wasn't wet and sloppy and she didn't feel loose, but something was different. What I did find out was what a sick fuck I was. The image of the bedroom — scattered clothes, used condoms, torn up bed — made my imagination run wild. What if instead of one guy doing her three times it had been three guys doing her once? A whole list of 'what ifs' wandered through my head and excited me to the point that I came a lot quicker than I usually do.
The big surprise was when my dick started to go soft and then turned around and got stiff again before I even had a chance to pull out. I fucked Elise four times that night — fucked her, didn't make love, just fucked her — and we never did have dinner.
Saturday I took Elise out for dinner and a show and while we were gone the private detective used the key I had given him to enter our house and plant surveillance equipment. That night and Sunday I was I was after Elise like a starving man after food and the images in my mind kept my dick almost constantly hard. I kept remembering that torn up bed and those used rubbers and I remembered the gangbangs I'd participated in during college and I saw Elise on that torn up bed with eight or nine guys standing around waiting for a turn and it just kept me fired up. I think Elise might have been happy to see me go to work on Monday.
That week I fucked Elise every night when I got home from work, mostly to see if I could detect any evidence that someone else had already been there. Friday afternoon I was in the detective's office getting his report:
"His name is Rod Mallory and he is an unemployed aircraft mechanic. He arrives every day around noon and is there until about three-thirty. If he followed his regular schedule he is probably there right now. I'll need you to get your wife out of the house tomorrow so I can get my equipment and then around the middle of the coming week I'll be able to give you my final report."
As I rode the elevator down from his seventh floor office I noticed that I wasn't as fired up to get home as I had been since Monday. It was as if putting a name to the man who was fucking my wife had turned off the eroticism that had been raging in my head since the day I had found out Elise was an unfaithful slut. I don't know, maybe it was the fact that I had been getting seconds (although not sloppy) all week and not being able to tell that turned the switch off. Whatever the reason, the fire had gone out.
.... There is more of this story ...