Chapter 1: Ben
Caution: This Drama Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Reluctant, Cheating, Cuckold, Pregnancy,
Desc: Drama Sex Story: Chapter 1: Ben - Anonymous letters plants doubts in a marriage.
It was early on a Friday afternoon and I was driving home to have a long talk with my wife Catherine. I was extremely nervous and anxious to continue our previous talk concerning that latest proof that I had already disclosed to her about her cheating. It was three days now since I had placed the proof of her infidelity in front of her. Every time that I tried to discuss the matter with her, she would either go into a fit of crying proclaiming her innocence or she would just run to her room and lock the door behind her.
For the last three days I hadn't accomplish much work in my office. Most of my time having been spent thinking about the events of the last few days and also those of the last six months while pretending to work. Then, this morning, I came to the conclusion that as soon as I was going to arrive home from work that day, I was going to insist that she admit her infidelity toward me. Then I was going to divorce her.
The closer I got to our house, the angrier I became. Six months ago, I had confronted her with a similar incident — though not as evident — and I demanded that she explains herself to me. It had ended in a terrible argument, which had almost ended our marriage. Now I had an even more solid proof that she had been cheating on me. I knew that there was absolutely no way for her to explain everything without admitting that she was having an extra marital affair.
As soon as I parked my car into our driveway, I knew that something was wrong. For one thing both garage doors were opened and her car was gone. When I got out of my car, I discover that the door leading to the house from inside the garage, was wide opened.
Entering the house I got another surprise. In the kitchen I saw a disorder that I had never seen before. Empty boxes were everywhere on the floor and on the table. A half-empty roll of duct tape was lying on the floor next to the table and near it was near a pair of scissors. On a chair was a pile of clothing while the kitchen counter was covered with pots and pans. But what intrigued me the most was the fact that the pots and other items weren't dirty. Everything was clean and dry. It occurred to me that much of the content of the cupboards had simply been taken out and most of it left on the countertop.
All of a sudden it hit me like a brick at the back of the head, Catherine had left me. Yes that was the only explanation. She had packed those things that she wanted to take with her and left in a hurry. Suddenly my thoughts went to my daughter Chantal.
I climbed the staircase in a hurry and ran to my daughter's room. Once again, even though I was half expecting it, I was shocked to see all the drawers open and empty. She had taken our daughter with her and I had no idea where she had gone.
Catherine parents were both dead, her only sibling, an older brother, was living at the other end of the country. Where could she have gone? Why exactly did she run away from me with our daughter? Well, I had planned to divorce her of course, but I wanted my daughter back and my wife had no way to know what I was planning to do.
Of course we had a big problem, I had practically accused her of cheating on me. I had been willing to talk to her about the whole thing — but certainly not forgive her — and even let her explain herself to me. But she had refused to admit what she had done, instead she kept on denying everything.
When I looked into our bedroom I wasn't too surprised to see the degree of disorder there also. All the drawers of her bureau were opened and empty, even the door to her walk-in was wide opened. All her things were gone. No dresses, no slacks, no shoes, she had taken everything with her. It was as if she had never been living with me in our house for the past seven years.
Tears were now freely flowing down my cheeks as I slowly went down to the living room. After pouring myself a large drink, I went to sit in my favorite chair so as to think. Then my eyes came to rest on the picture of my wife and daughter on top of the shelf over the TV screen. The picture had been taken the previous summer; it was on the day that my daughter turned five.
Catherine was wearing a light green, knees-length skirt with a white blouse on that day, she had just turned twenty-eight the previous week. Her shoulder length, auburn hair, matched perfectly with the green of her skirt. Even the green ribbon that she had around her head and under her hair at the back, matched with her fair complexion and the rich color of her hair.
Anyone could tell by looking at that picture that she was an extremely beautiful woman, but of course I was the only one — at least I thought so until recently — that was familiar with her voluptuous and exiting body.
One of the things that I loved about her was her ... never self-conscious, usually careless attitude about her attractiveness. She had a straight forward approach to people. She was slow to realize the sexual heat she generated ... that men couldn't help loving the opportunities to study the lovely shape of her breasts moving under her thin blouses or observing her revealed nipples as she bends over in her busy activities as a housewife/hostess.
Her skin white as fresh milk, her hair dark red or auburn depending on the angle of the light falling on them. Her teeth so straight and perfectly white made her smile so friendly and engaging. Her eyes, oh yes her eyes ... they are the color of the green of the forest and so warm when she focused them on you. Her long legs, slim, very shapely rising to voluptuous hips and an ass that cupped enticingly, and pussy lips that gathered around the seam of her jeans or shorts.
In my younger days I had been the jealous type of boyfriend; those days were long gone (so I believed) with the passage of those years of solid marriage
We had been married for seven years now and our love life had always been very active. For the last six months, after we finally got over that terrible argument after an incident where facts were never explained to my complete satisfaction, we had been making love almost every day.
I loved my wife and I am still very much in love with her. But now the two persons that were the most important in my life (my daughter and my wife) were gone and I had no idea where they were.
My daughter Chantal is almost six and she was supposed to soon be starting school where my wife is working as a replacement teacher. She means everything to me and she was the main reason that I didn't push things further with my wife when I confronted her with the second anonymous letter that I received six months ago.
As for my wife Catherine, well I love her as much as it is humanly possible to love a woman. We were married as soon as I graduated from university. I was twenty-two at that time and she was twenty. She had been teaching for the first year of our marriage only to stop the last two months of her pregnancy with Chantal.
My wife is an outstanding woman, both in appearance and in character. I have never seen a woman with hair like hers. Her dark, silky auburn hair fall like a curtain on her shoulders and when she turns her head too fast it will swing in a most spectacular manner as their momentum will carry them around her head.
When she looks at you with her large emerald-color eyes, you get the impression that she is looking into your very soul. Over the years I realized that I would never be able to lie to her because of those eyes that seem to read your most private thoughts.
Then her delicate aquiline nose, which its tip and lightly covered with freckles, gives her the appearance of being much younger than she really is. But the feature that I like the most about her face is her plump sensual lips that tempt me to kiss her all the time. As for the rest of her body ... well it is just about perfect. She is tall with long straight legs ending in a round buttock that wiggle spectacularly when she walks. As for her breasts, they are high, firm and more than enough for me.
But mind you, she has the character that matched the color of her hair. She is much too quick to react sometimes and she definitely can hold a grudge for a long time when provoked. She probably has Irish blood in her.
This is the main reason that I didn't push things too much the last time I confronted her about that letter that almost wreck our marriage. After all, I wasn't completely convinced at the time and she did deny everything. But now, with this third letter, the proof that I had against her was rock solid, at least I though so.
Without really realizing it, I began to recall the series of events that led to the mess that I was in now.
It had all began about seven months previously. I remembered that day well since it was the day that I received at work the first in a series of three letters. It was on the day that my company signed the big Baxter contract.
I am the owner of a profitable business which import art and sells it back in this country. I have twelve employees working for me and my business is very healthy and profitable.
Catherine had quitted her full time teaching job when our daughter was born and even though she was often talking about getting back to teaching again, she hadn't done so yet. But she sometimes still worked as a replacement teacher since she wanted to keep in touch with her profession. On those rare days that she replaced sick teachers, her friend Lucie, — who had recently separated from her husband and was now living with another man — would come to our house to stay with our daughter.
Yes, I could still recall the tragedy of that sad day as I sat in my office. I was checking my afternoon mail that had just been placed on top of my desk. When I opened the small while envelope with no return address, I got the surprise of my life. Inside was a rectangular card on which a single sentence was printed.
"I love that star shaped mole that your wife Catherine has under her left nipple."
The first time that I read that message, two words got most of my attention, 'Catherine' and 'nipple'. For long seconds I remained frozen, the full impact of the single sentence didn't register immediately. Finally I read it again and gradually the implication behind the words sank into my mind.
Whoever had written this message knew about the mole under the left nipple of my wife. That person even knew that the mole was in the shape of a star. Until then I was sure that I was the only one that had been allowed to look at it. It goes to say that I was flabbergasted.
I wasn't able to do any work after that. I told Josianne my secretary, that she was not to disturb me unless it was something very important, then I just sat there trying to get over the shock and thinking about what I should do next.
Who the hell could have send me that letter I told to myself? Catherine and I had married a month after her graduation, we then moved to the East Coast soon afterward. Since then I knew that she had never met any of her old friends, none of them even knew where we were living now.
Try as hard as I could, there was no way to explain how anyone could know about that mole that she had under her nipple. I trusted her completely and I knew that she would never cheated on me, beside she was always home with Chantal our daughter and never went out by herself. We even went shopping together every week.
At first it had been my intention to show her the letter, but I soon realized that it would only create friction between us. After all she probably couldn't explain the note more than I could. So even though I was very disturbed about that message and what it implied, I figured that it would be better if I simply forgot the whole thing and at the same time kept my eyes opened in the future.
It took me several days to finally forget the letter and things slowly went back to normal after a week or so. Catherine and I were still having sex four or five times per week and we were a very happy family.
I must mention here that sex with Catherine was special. We hugged and kissed for a long time before penetration and when we were finally ready to copulate, our love making went on for a long time. Catherine sometimes gave me oral sex before we made love, but she never swallowed and she would go down on me only after I went down on her. As for her rear hole, it was the only part of her body that was out of bound to me.
About two months after I received the 'mole letter', it was a Friday afternoon and once again and I was busy opening my mail for that day when I noticed a large manila envelope in the pile. The address was hand written in block letters and I couldn't see any return address anywhere on the envelope. It didn't seem to be heavy enough for its large side but I could tell, judging by its thickness, that there was something beside sheets of paper inside.
For a few seconds I had a flash recall of the 'mole letter' that I had received previously. My hands became damp suddenly and they were trembling as I manipulated the envelope trying to discover indices of its origin.
At last I carefully cut open one end and looked inside. It contained a standard size sheet of paper and a black cloth which at first, I couldn't immediately identify. But as soon as I pulled the black piece of cloths out of the envelope and dropped it on my desk, I knew that the envelope came from the same bastard that had sent me the 'mole letter'.
There on the top of my desk was a black, French-cut, pair of women panties. They were very similar to those that were in the set of panties and bra that I had bought for my wife the day we that went shopping together the previous week. She hadn't even had had the opportunity to wear these two items for me yet.
It goes without saying that I was shocked. As I sat there too stunned to move, I felt my anger building up inside me.
Very slowly and with a complete lack of eagerness, I proceeded to pull out the sheet of paper still inside the large beige envelope. I knew that whatever was written on that paper was going to cause me much pain and it was also going to have a deep impact on my life.
There was only a small paragraph printed on the sheet of paper. I began to read it.
"As you can see, I kept a souvenir from my recent meeting with your wife. It surprised me to discover how noisy she could be when she is in the grip of passions. She still has much to learn when making love but I am eager and willing to teach her."
It was a good thing that I was alone inside my office at that moment. My anger and rage was such that it would have been impossible for me to hide my anger. But angry at whom? Had Catherine really been cheating on me?
I remained seated too stunned to move, trying to breathe slowly so as to calm myself. Finally I got hold of myself and I began to think more rationally about what was happening to me.
I kept telling myself that my wife would never cheat on me. Those panties certainly didn't belong to her. Someone out there was trying to destroy my marriage and I was falling for it. One thing was certain now though, I was going to talk to her about the 'mole letter' and show her this last message that I had just received today.
Once again I read the paragraph that was neatly printed, then I focused my mind on the black undergarment on top of my desk. It sure looked like it matched the set that we bought from Victoria's Secret at the mall. When I took it in my hand and examined it, I noticed that stitched nicely with fancy red thread at the back on the waist band, were the words 'Victoria's Secret'. Then I saw something else also. There were crusty white stains over the gusset and on the back. Then it finally hit me, those whitish stained had been cause by the ejaculate of a man.
I remained frozen for long seconds still trying to calm myself.
The more I though about all of this, the more insecure I became. I knew that I was going to confront my wife now about this whole thing. But first I had to find out if these were the same panties that we had bought while together at the mall. I now had too many questions to ask her to forget everything like I had done with the 'mole letter'.
My wife supposed hidden mole, the black panties, the cum stains and even the fact that this bastard knew that Catherine is very vociferous when she makes love, were too much for me to simply dismiss everything. There might be something behind all of this and I made up my mind that I was going to have a very long talk with my wife as soon as I got home
That dark day was the beginning of the end of my marriage.
I was a little late in coming home after work that day. Even though I wanted answers, I was less than eager to talk to her about this urgent matter.
As soon as I entered the house with the manila envelope in my hands, Catherine immediately noticed that there was something bothering me. It might have been the fact that when she threw her arms around my neck, I turned my head away so that she couldn't kiss me on the lips.
"What's wrong Ben? Did you have a bad day?"
Instead of replying to her, I went to the refrigerator and I got a can of beer. She had followed me into the kitchen and as soon as I went to sit at the kitchen table, she quietly sat in front of me. I then placed the large envelope in front of her and at the same time I began to tell her everything.
"Two months ago I received an anonymous letter at my office address. Inside, there was only one sentence written on a small card. Whoever sent the letter wrote that he loved the star-shaped mole that you had under your left nipple."
Catherine brought one hand over her mouth in a reaction of shock as she looked at me straight in my eyes. Was she acting or was it spontaneous? Frankly I couldn't really tell which.
"Surely you are joking Ben." She said as I watched the colors drained from her face.
"This in not all of it. Today I received a larger envelope and it contained a pair of black panties accompanies by another note."
Saying this I motioned for her to look inside the envelope in front of her. I watched her nervously pick the envelope and reach inside to pull both items at the same time, the black panties as well as the sheet of paper.
She examined the panties and she looked at me with an expression of horror on her beautiful face. I couldn't tell if she did recognized them or not. Then she read the note and again she looked at me, this time she had tears in her eyes.
"This is all a joke Ben, is it?" Tell me it's a joke.
"I sincerely wish that it was a joke Catherine, but this is no joking matter dear wife. Can you explain the meaning of this? How can anyone know the existence of that mole when I am suppose to be the only one that is seeing your breasts? Worst still, how come a man has gotten possession of your panties. Because I do presume they are yours."
"But ... I don't understand Ben." She was crying now and her bottom lip was trembling.
"Only last week, when we went to the mall I bought this set of black bra and matching panties for you. You do remember do you?" I was almost shouting now.
"No! No Ben. These are not mine. Let me prove it to you I will get them for you they are still in the drawer of my bureau." Saying this she ran upstairs to her room.
For long minutes I heard her pulling open and closing drawers after drawers. She finally came down slowly with her head bent and empty handed, she sat back at the table in front of me.
"They are not there. I don't understand any of this Ben." All of a sudden she went into a fit of crying with her head resting against her arms on top of the table.
I waited about five minutes until she had calmed down a little. Then I said to her.
"I suppose you can't explain also the fact that someone knows about the existence of that mole. Catherine, have you done things behind my back that you shouldn't have?"
Her reaction was completely unexpected. I had been expecting another fit of crying as well as apologies where she would proclaim how sorry she was. Then after much crying I figured that she would explain how and who had seen her breasts and gotten his hand on her panties.
I really didn't think that she had cheated on me beyond showing her breasts or at the worst letting a man touch them. As for the panties, I figured the same man had somehow taken them from the drawer in which they were. I simply could not visualize Catherine having sex with another man.
Instead, she suddenly got up and left the table. As she did so, she turned toward me and said in an extremely harsh voice.
"If you have such a low opinion of me then there is no need for me to remain in your presence. Take the roast out of the oven yourself, I am going into my room where you won't have to look at me."
Before that day, I had never seen Catherine so angry in my life. People often say that reddish hair people with freckles usually have a fiery temper, but until then I never had been a witness to this facet of her character.
Up to now, I was pretty sure that she was guilty — to a certain degree — of doing things that she shouldn't have, but now I was beginning to have serious doubts.
For the next few days we practically didn't talk to one another except if it was about something that couldn't be avoided. Of course our sex life was nil. Very gradually, as the days went by, she began to soften up toward me. After a couple of weeks, things were almost as they had been before but not quite.
Our sex life wasn't yet at the point where it had been before that terrible day. We were having sex, but instead of the three or four times per week as it had been before this whole thing began, we were doing it about once a week now. Even then I could tell that Catherine wasn't enjoying it as much as she did before.
Of course we no longer talked about the 'mole letter' or the black panties. In my mind, I now had serious doubts about the whole thing and I figured that it would be best to forget everything since I didn't have substantial proof of her cheating. It took another couple of months for our sex life to get back on track and when it finally did, it was as if we were both trying to catch up for the lost time.
Gradually, the frequency and the intensity of our lovemaking reached a peek never attained before. I was extremely satisfy with my sex life now and more important still, Catherine seemed very happy also and all thoughts of the two anonymous letters were far behind us.
Then one evening, I got a pleasant surprise when I began to explore my wife's voluptuous body. As soon as my hand reached her vagina I discovered that she had shaved her pussy hair completely.
"Wow, what a pleasant surprise? I have the impression that my hand is exploring a teen. Is that legal honey?" I said jokingly.
"Of course silly. You have been asking me to trim my hair down there for years. So I decided to trim and shave it today. Do you like the feel of my pussy the way it is now?"
"Yes! Yes, I love it. You should have done this a long time ago baby. It feel so smooth and so inviting."
"I first had to removed the surplus hair with scissors then I finished the job using one of your razors to shave myself completely. I had to be careful so that I wouldn't cut myself. There is only one small spot that I didn't dare to shave since I couldn't reach it with my right hand and I was afraid of cutting myself. Touch there on my right lip."
As she said this, she took one of my fingers with her right hand and proceeded to move it just on the inside edge of her right lip. Indeed, I could feel a small patch of hair where she hadn't shave.
We made love for almost two hours that evening. I first went down on her and after she had had a long orgasm my mean of my mouth we went into a 69 position and it was her turn to make me cum in her mouth. She eagerly swallowed every drop that she sucked from my erection and later, when I had recovered enough, we made love in the missionary position which is Catherine favorite position.
For the next two weeks we were just like a newly wed couple. Our love making was almost a daily affair and we even began to seriously talk about giving our daughter a little brother or a sister.
Then at the beginning of the third weeks after she had shaved her pussy, I received a third anonymous letter.
By then I had practically forgotten the two previous ones. I figured that someone was jealous about our happy marriage and somehow — by means that I still couldn't explain to myself — had gotten information about my wife's mole and had also gotten his hand on her panties or similarly panties, then sent them to me.
I know that this might sound like a very poor explanation, but I was then and still am, completely in love with my wife. So I suppose that any excuse to save my marriage was acceptable to me.
As soon as I saw the now familiar hand printed writing of the letter which my secretary had placed on top of my desk with the rest of my daily mail, I knew exactly what it was. It was of the same small size as that of the white envelope of the first letter. Even the color of the ink of the printed letters was identical as the two previous letters. Of course there was no return address at the back. The only difference with this letter from the first one, was the fact that this one had a small bulge in the middle of the envelope. It appeared that there was something having a certain thickness inside the envelope.
For long seconds I debated in my mind whether I should simply throw it away and not even bother to read the sinister message that I knew was inside. It occurred to me that once I would open it, my life was going to change for ever.
With trembling hands, while my heart began beating extremely fast behind my ribs cage, I slowly cut the edge of the envelope with my letter opener. In the back of my mind, I somehow knew that what I was about to read was going to destroy my marriage. So every second that I managed to delay the inevitable was one more second that I remained happily married to Catherine. Slowly my fingers reached inside the now opened envelope and I pulled out a small rectangular card.