John and Veronica


Caution: This Erotica Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Cheating, .

Desc: Erotica Story: Veronica has her own ideas how a marriage should work.

I had just gotten home; it was Friday, and I was looking forward to the weekend. My wife was waiting for me. Not waiting for me as she usually did with a smile and a peck, but fidgeting—and seemingly determined about something. Something was up, and it didn't look good.

"Hi honey," I said. I stopped and looked at her. "Something wrong? Where are the children?" It was Friday and the kids should have been home.

"The children are with mom until Monday. John, I have to talk to you. I have to tell you something, and I need you to listen and to try to understand. Oh my this is going to so be hard," she said looking down.

She saw my concern and tried to reassure me. She said, "It's not something bad, but—well—it might be hard for you to get where I'm coming from, at least initially. But, if you think about it and if you love me; you'll at least try to understand. Can you do that for me?" she said. Her voice was almost pleading.

"I guess so. I will try to understand," I said.

"Thank you," she said. "John, it's something that's been on my mind for a long time. Something that at first may sound dumb, strange."


"John, I want to have sex with other men."

"Huh?" What?" I started to laugh, but the look in her eyes did not invite humor. I stopped. "You're serious, aren't you? You're divorcing me, is that it?"

"No-no-no!" She cried. "I love you more than anything. I will never leave you, John. You can be sure of that. This is just something that I need to do. Since I just flat refuse to cheat on you, to sneak around, I need you to try and understand my need to—well—do this. I need you to agree to allow me this chance. Can you understand what I'm saying?"

At first I was speechless. But then something else began to take over inside of me; it was anger. "Understand? No, I don't understand," I said. "And, I don't agree to any such thing."

"John—I—I—I'm going to do this whether you like it or not. I was hoping I could get you to understand this need I have. I have never cheated on you, and I am not going to do so now. I am letting you know up front. I promise to take precautions and to deny you nothing in our bed. But..." She could see my mind was wandering. I wasn't hearing her anymore, or maybe I was; I just wasn't reacting like she thought I should.

"John Mason, are you hearing me? This has nothing to do with us. Nothing, am I clear?" She paused and watched for my reaction. I didn't move. I just sat there staring. I appeared to be all but catatonic. My wife of seventeen years had just destroyed me and expected me to actually like it, or at least tolerate it. I didn't and I wouldn't, not ever!

"John? I need this. I am getting to the stage in life where I really need this; please understand. I was a virgin when we married. I have never known another man. I hardly even ever made out before I met you. I really, really need to know what it is all about, sex I mean. The difference the—I don't know. I just need to try it. It's only about sex, not love, never love except with you."

I continued to stare. I was afraid to say anything; I wanted to kill her. My wife wanted to explore other men. Not even a man, but men. The most shocking part of the whole mess, and it was a big-ass mess, was that she expected me to be okay with it.

"John, say something," said his wife.

"Veronica..." I couldn't finish. I rose and headed upstairs to the bedroom, our bedroom, what had 'been' our bedroom, now it was nothing to me. I was sick and broken spiritually, my body was devoid of sensation, I was giddy with fear. It had only taken her fifteen minutes, maybe less, to destroy our marriage. I sat on the bed thinking, or rather trying to think. I knew I had to get out of the house and away from my wife, a wife that was about to cuckold me. And, she was going to do it—how had she phrased it—whether I liked it or not!

I had been a marathon runner in college. Running or long range walking always helped me to clarify my thinking. I decided to walk, to walk far. I changed out of my suit and into loose-fitting jeans, a Henley, and my two-hundred dollar running shoes. I grabbed my wallet, a cap, and my sun glasses. I went back downstairs.

Veronica was still sitting where she had when she announced her plans to experiment sexually with other men. I stood for a moment staring at her once again; she seemed a stranger to me. I looked back at her, my hand on the doorknob, "Who are you?" I said. I turned and walked out the door.

"John! Where..." Her words were lost as I slammed the door hard behind me. I moved at a rapid pace. I was already past the neighbors' house when I heard her yelling for me to come back and talk to her. She caught up to me and ran-walked beside me until she was out of breath.

"John, where are you going. You—we need to talk. I love you. I am not doing this to hurt you. There is still an us, really. I love you. Please come back. John..." She gave up; I think she'd collapsed on the sidewalk, but I didn't turn to see; I couldn't look at her. She was in no way able to maintain the pace I was setting. I could still do a marathon in under three hours no sweat. Soon I was two blocks up the street, and she was no longer anywhere to be seen. I turned the corner and changed gears: I went into overdrive, as I called it, I was cruising; I could go forever at this pace and maybe I would.

We'd met in college. She was handing out cups of water to participants in a 10K tri-meet. I had won the race that day. I had won, I later told her, because I was trying to get back to find her before she got away from me. I had caught her just in time, just before she would have been lost in the crowd of fans, family members, and supporters.

We'd hit it off immediately. She was a secretary to the dean of the business school. She'd never finished college, but she had managed to land a sinecure of a job because of her attention to detail and her ability to navigate around the printed word. I was a grad student at the time in Electronics and Computer Science, a double major.

We dated for six months before we had sex, and it was mind blowing. Though a virgin the girl could fuck and she loved it. It never occurred to me at the time, but she was a natural born slut, there were signs; she just never became one.

Four Months after my graduation, and fourteen months after we'd met, we married: I was twenty-six, and Ronnie was a year older than me at twenty-seven. Yes, and I'll say it again, she was still a virgin at age twenty-seven.

Calli and John, Jr. came along in years nine and ten of our marriage respectively, and we prospered. Ronnie was still a secretary for the dean, and I was working as a computer systems engineer for Peters Ltd., a company that was doing cutting edge research and development for the military.

My boss, and the owner of Peters Ltd., was Bill Shuler, a sixtyish bachelor with an almost manic work ethic. Bill and I were not merely boss and employee; we were close friends.

Veronica and I had now been married seventeen wonderful years, or so I had thought; that is I had thought that they had been wonderful. Evidently Veronica thought otherwise.

During the past several months, Ronnie had become, well, antsy. No biggee, just kinda short with me on occasion and less often with the children as well; this last had caused a couple of pretty heated arguments. Being short with me was one thing, but not with the children: I wasn't going for that. I considered that she might be going through the change of life. I wasn't much up on female biology, but I was aware of some things. I had been meaning to check into it more, but I just never got around to it. Now, as I walked, I wished I had.

"I don't know where your brother is, Roberta, Bobbie. He just up and walked out of the house and I haven't seen him since 5:00PM Friday," said Veronica. "That's why I called you. I've been frantic. I'm really worried, Bobbie. Bobbie, what am I going to do!"

Roberta Mason could have been my wife's twin, and they had more than once been taken as sisters. Both had flowing red hair, curvaceous figures and the cutest freckles that any man could want. Roberta was maybe an inch taller the Ronnie at five-seven, but otherwise they were near clones of each other. But Bobbie was very different in personality. She was tough minded, slow to speak unless challenged to do so, and still single at age forty. No, she wasn't gay, but she liked being independent, and so she was.

"Are we talking about our John, my brother?" said Roberta Mason. "This is not like him."

"We had a little tiff, and he just up and walked out. I tried to get him to talk to me, but he wouldn't," said Veronica.

"Ronnie, we'll find him. I don't know what you two argued about, but if he walked out on you, and his children, it had to have been something pretty bad. I don't suppose you'd like to enlighten me," said Bobbie.

"It's personal," said Veronica. "And, it was certainly nothing that should have caused him to leave us! I told him a dozen times I loved him. Why can't he get that through his head!"

"Well, I don't know, but when we find him, I'm gonna find out. Anyway, you waited long enough to call me. He's had two days head start," said Roberta. Her words carried a hint of sarcasm. The two sisters-in-law got along well; but Roberta, a psychologist, always felt that Veronica was a little ditzy.

"Which way did he go?" said Roberta. "He was on foot, you say. What was he wearing?"

"He went east toward Baxter. A dark green tee-shirt and jeans. A Cubs baseball cap too, I think," said Veronica.

"His coat?" prompted Roberta.

"No, he wasn't wearing a coat."

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Cheating /