"Have you ever thought about having sex with another woman?" Leah asked me out of the blue one evening. The question completely blind-sided me; we had just finished making love for the second time that night and were snuggling and, I hoped, resting up for a third go.
Maybe if we'd been an old married couple, our sex lives stagnant and repetitive, the question wouldn't seem to have come as out of the blue as it did. We were young, though – I was 25, Leah 24 – and had been married all of a year and a half. Besides, our sex life seemed to be wonderful. We were basically still on our honeymoon, making love at least once and often two or three times every night and many times even during the day as well. It wasn't just the missionary position, either; hell, it hardly ever was the missionary position. We hadn't gone through the Kama Sutra or anything, but we both seemed ready, willing and even eager to try close to anything anytime anywhere.
"Never, Leah," I said, pulling her on top of me so I could look into her face. She was on her elbows so she could look down on me and I quickly kissed her on the mouth. "Never. You're..."
"Aaron, wait," she said. I swear for just a moment there was a flicker of something resembling annoyance on her face but then her smile almost blinded me so I figured it was just something I'd imagined. "I just ... look, neither of us were virgins when we married." Her face turned sad and so vulnerable, I just wanted to crush her in my arms and never let her go. "Heck, we weren't virgins when we met. I just want to ... I don't know ... I guess I just want to make sure there aren't any more 'wild oats' to sow, you know? I mean, I love you with all my heart and I'm secure enough in your love to be able to separate sex and love if you wanted to ... you know..."
"Lee," I began, holding her tightly and nuzzling my face into the crook of her neck. I gave her one of those gentle, nibbling kisses she so loved and whispered into her ear. "I don't want to. I am completely happy with you. I fell in love with you the moment I met you. You're all the woman I will ever need in my life. I don't want any other woman because, let's face it, any other woman would absolutely pale in comparison with you."
I could swear I saw that look of annoyance again, but she almost immediately lay down on me as her arms wrapped themselves around my head so I couldn't be sure. Her nimble lips found my ear and nibbled on it lovingly. "I'm glad. I just don't ever want to lose you. I want to make sure I can satisfy your every desire."
Chuckling, I moved my hands down to her ass and ran a finger up and down the valley. "Well, if you want make sure I'm completely satisfied, there is one thing we haven't tried..." I said, laughing. I swear it was a joke; I'd only had anal sex once and I'd hated it. It was too tight and, not to be immodest, but I have a rather large cock; I didn't think there was a woman on the planet that would feel comfortable putting Little Monster in their heinie and ... well ... I really, really wasn't into hurting my partner. Especially not the incredible woman I'd married.
I met her junior year at, of all things, a frat party. I played football, offensive guard, in both high school and college so naturally I joined the Phi Gamma Omicron – the athlete's fraternity – in college. We were having a kegger – illegal, since only a handful of us were actually 21 or older, but this was college – when I almost had a heart attack as she walked through the door.
She was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. Her long, flowing hair was the color of honey, her face that of an angel but it was her eyes that drew me in and wouldn't let me go. They were the color of the sky on a cold winter day, so blue that I felt like I was floating inside of them. Some guys go for legs or breasts or butts, but all I needed was a beautiful face and I was hooked. And hers was achingly beautiful. Oval face, aquiline nose, thin, expressive lips ... she was wearing a mid-length coat so I had no idea what her body looked like but I knew in that instant that I had to have her and, if I could, I'd never let her go.
She was taller than many females – 5'9" at least – but I looked on that as an asset; at 6'8" I towered over most men, let alone women, and sleeping with a short girl could occasionally cause logistical nightmares. Her breasts were on the small side, certainly not the biggest ones at the party, and her butt was perhaps not as rounded as many of the women there ... but I couldn't take my eyes off of her. She had come with two other women and I moved in almost as soon as she cleared the door. I simply had to meet her.
Two and a half years later, just after she graduated with a degree in English and a year after I had graduated with a degree in Software Engineering, we married. When I started college, I'd hoped to get into the pros when I was done – what football player doesn't – but I was never even drafted. I'd like to say it was because I'd blown out a knee or suffered some other crippling injury but the truth was that I just wasn't good enough. Sure, I was strong enough – no one could ever beat me in squats, dead lifts or presses – and I was quick ... but not as quick as many other players and I relied too much on my strength and not enough on technique. I could probably have caught on at some team's practice squad but I knew that was all I'd ever be, so I left.
I went to work for a nearby software firm that was less than an hour away from campus as I waited for Leah to graduate. When she did two years later, after we married, we moved to a city an hour from her home town. I got another software job – I loved computers – at a computer games firm and Leah started teaching high school English and speech and for the past two years our lives had been almost idyllic. We were still living in an apartment and saving for a house and we'd decided to wait until we were financially secure before we had kids but there wasn't anything either of us wanted for, really.
I was pulled out of my recollections when Leah pulled away from me and rolled onto the other side of the bed, her back to me.
"I told you that isn't going to happen," she huffed. "That's exit only so quit pestering me about it."
"Baby," I purred, snuggling up to her back. "It was just a joke ... I don't even want that, really..."
She flinched away from me angrily. "It wasn't funny. I'm tired. Let's go to sleep."
It turned out she was tired for 10 days. It was the first time we had ever fought. EVER.
Since we'd met there hadn't been more than a day that we'd gone without making love; now we'd gone 10 days barely even talking to each other. I wouldn't want to say that we were over-sexed but ... well ... we were. After 3 days I was almost crawling up the walls and by day 10 I was ready to say the only three words that women love to hear: "I am sorry."
On Wednesday, the 11th day of our fight, I told my boss I wasn't feeling well – which, trust me, wasn't a lie – and left a bit after 10am. Leah's lunch period was 11:20 with a free period after so I had time to stop and get her a dozen red roses and a large box of chocolates. I pulled into the high school parking lot just after 11am, figuring I would have to wait 15 or 20 minutes before heading in when I noticed that the parking lot was almost empty and the campus was strangely quiet. I'm not sure what I was thinking –I knew it wasn't any kind of holiday but maybe the kids had a day off for one of those teacher conferences that happened a few times a year – but I parked up front and, carrying the roses and chocolates, made my way into the building.
It seemed to be colder inside than out and I noticed the administrator behind the desk was bundled in a coat. She had a full head of gray hair, cut short to her shoulders. She looked a bit familiar, but I couldn't place her.
"Excuse me," I said, my eyes looking around curiously. "I'm here to see Leah Tyler?"
"Hi," the woman said, stretching the word out as she glanced up my frame. Her eyes widened in surprise. "Oh ... I'm sorry. You're Leah's husband ... I thought you were one of the workers. I'm Cyndi McCaan – we've met a few times at some of the school functions. I don't think Leah's here but you're welcome to check her class room." The older woman quickly opened and scanned a book on her desk. "She's in 27C, go out the doors, take a left, take another left at the first hall and a right at the second hall ... that'll be hallway C and I think she's the 2nd or 3rd door on the left. I haven't seen her, though, but maybe I missed her. We had a problem with the boiler Monday night – this whole place is heated with radiant heat – and we had to call school off. Most of the teachers stayed home although one or two came in for books or grades or what have you."
"Oh," I said in surprise. "She didn't say anything ... but, well..." I held up the flowers and chocolate ruefully.
Cyndi just laughed. "I figured it was something like that. I've been married for 22 years and as soon as I see Clyde with flowers or chocolates I know he's done something wrong."
"Okay," I chuckled. "I'll just check her classroom if you don't mind."
"Not at all," she continued laughing. "Be my guest. Left from here, left at first hall and then a right at the second hall."
"Thanks," I smiled as I left.
Leah's door was locked up tight and the lights were off. Her classroom, like just about everything else about her, was neat and orderly. There were some posters, a few murals, a big desk in front, books in back and little desks lined up neatly in rows in the middle. Her desk was neat and orderly and nearly empty, a little picture of both of us, laughing on what looked like our honeymoon, on one corner, a stapler and pencil holder filled with pens on the other.
I headed home feeling a bit better. I'd rather apologize at home than at work but I was willing to eat crow anywhere if it meant we could bring this fight to a conclusion. Besides, being at home we could have make-up sex.
Except, she wasn't at home and, as near as I could tell, she hadn't been home since leaving this morning. My job started at 9 – I worked 9 to 6 – but the high school's first class was at 8:05 so normally she left 30 minutes to an hour before me. Leah wasn't much of a morning person while I was, so our work schedules had resulted in some good natured ribbing from time to time.
I bit the bullet and called her but it went to voice mail. I was just about to leave a message when I glanced at the calendar and my whole body went numb. Without thinking and without leaving a message, I thumbed the off button on my cell phone and read the calendar again for the third or fourth time.
Leah teaches English and Speech. This year, she'd also volunteered as an assistant with the school's interscholastic speech and debate team; it meant a little less time at home some days but she was so thrilled and enthusiastic to be doing it that I was happy for her when we discussed it. The problem was that the team met on Tuesday and Thursday from 4:30 to 6:30 with competitions two or three times a month on Saturday; as a matter of fact, it had been after a Saturday competition that this whole argument had started. So, if school was closed yesterday, where had Leah been until 7pm? Sure, we hadn't been talking but she should have been home early yesterday ... not coming in the door a bit after 7pm. Maybe the team had met at the library or something; I knew there was a competition this Saturday at a high school 40 miles away ... maybe they needed to prepare for it.
I hit the speed dial for her phone again and again it went to voice mail. I didn't leave a message, just hung up and hit it again. I was about to hit end again when she finally answered it.
"What, Aaron?" she snapped. She seemed out of breath and I could hear what sounded like low music and voices in the background.
"I ... I..." I was caught a bit off-guard. I figured she was screening her calls or something so I really hadn't expected her to answer. "I ... I miss you. I just wanted to tell you that I'm really sorry and I don't want to fight any more."
She sighed but it seemed she was still slightly out of breath. "I'm sorry, too, sweetie. I just ... well, I felt you were pressuring me and it made me angry."
"I know," I replied, trying to listen intently to the background noise. "Honestly, though, it was just a joke."
"I guess I kind of knew that," she admitted. "Listen, I'm having lunch with some of the other teachers; we'll talk when I get home, okay?"
"Sure," I said, feeling better now that the fight was almost over. "Where are you guys eating at? Maybe I can join you?"
"In the teacher's lounge, silly," she laughed. My blood quickly went cold and suddenly, I didn't feel all that good anymore. "I have a free period after lunch but not all the teachers do. You know I'd love to see you but it's already 11:30. It'd be a quarter past 12 or so before you'd even get here and I have a class at 12:40. Just hold that thought, honey, and we can have some make-up sex when you get home, okay?"
"Alright, sweetie," I said, my voice sounding numb and alien to me. "I'll see you then."
So ... where was my wife and why the fuck was she lying to me? I was so angry and so hurt my hands were trembling with suppressed rage. I wanted to break something ... but I couldn't. Not yet. Not until I was sure.
We didn't even have an old-style telephone line. Instead, both Leah and I had cell phones; my company paid for my cell and got a great discount on a second line so we'd just added another cell instead of a hard phone line. The thing was, our cell phone carrier offered a service that would let me see where every cell phone on my account was; it was mainly for families so they could see where their kids were but it would serve my purpose as well. I went through the service startup screens on my Windows Phone and agreed to pay the $10 a month fee.
Leah was just over a mile from home in the opposite direction from the school. I refreshed a few times and the signal didn't move, so I was sure she was stationary. I hoped that she was just at some restaurant and had only been lying about where she was ... but somewhere in my heart, I knew better.
I hopped in my car and drove, a dot overlaid on a map of the area the only clue about where I was going. I followed the dot to a one-story, brick house about mid-way down a normal subdivision block; other than the trim being painted green instead of white, the house was almost identical to just about every other house near it. If I had any doubts about Leah actually being here, they were dashed as I pulled up. Her blue Honda Civic was parked just outside, under a tree.
I started to walk up to the door, unsure of what I intended ... but I just couldn't. Instead, I walked around the house, looking into the windows where I could. It was in the back of the house that I found what I was looking for, in a window with the drapes wide open.
They didn't notice me; they were too busy. My wife of the past two years was lying on one guy, with another slowly pounding behind her – either the two guys were fucking her pussy, and I couldn't see how two cocks could possibly fit in her tight cunt, or she was giving up the ass that had started our entire argument. Kneeling on the bed in front of her was a third guy, slowly fucking her face.
At first, I couldn't believe this was happening. I couldn't believe that my wife would cheat on me. They must have kidnapped her or blackmailed her or something. All of that was dashed when I watched the woman who I worshipped pull her face off the cock in front of her and, while using one of her hands to stroke him while the other held her up, licked at the cock she had just been fellating. Even then, I was praying that it wasn't what I thought it was ... but then I watched as she threw her head back and howled in release; I could hear it through the windows and for a brief second I wondered what the neighbors thought.
My cell phone had a camera built in – what cell phone doesn't anymore? – and I quickly brought it out and set it up to record. I was numb and cold and probably in shock. As I taped my wife bouncing her ass back at the two cocks buried in her I took greater notice of the three guys fucking her. It was then that I realized they were young ... too young. Something inside of me died when I realized they had to be going to the high school where she taught.
I'm not sure how long I stood there. The movie I recorded said it was only 8 minutes, 8 minutes watching my wife scream through two more orgasms, watching her drink down the cum of the teen-aged lover fucking her face, 8 minutes watching the boy pounding in her from behind pull out, his cock showing streaks of shit so I knew where he'd been, cumming all over her ass. It seemed like so much longer, though. It seemed like a lifetime.
My first impulse was to break down the door and kill the three teenagers fucking my wife. I even thought about how good it would feel to watch the life slowly die in her eyes just as my love for her was dying in my heart, her life ending as I squeezed her throat completely closed. I considered how good it would feel to cut her into small, tiny pieces and throw her all over that fucking room. I almost did it. My steps took me to the small double doors in the back of that fucking house ... but something stopped me.
Death was too good for her. No matter how long I managed to drag her death out, it would be over too quickly, too easily. No, I needed her to feel the pain I felt at that moment ... only I needed her to feel it for the rest of her fucking life.
I did trash her car. I carry a small pocket knife, just to open packages and stuff, but it felt so good when I slashed through each of her tires. I had a spare key and when I opened the door laughter almost bubbled up out of me when I slashed through the seats. I bent under the dash and ripped out as many wires as I could grab, then I popped the hood, grabbed the tire iron and really did some damage. I left that tire iron buried in her battery, though I was careful not to get any of the battery acid on me. I felt a tiny bit better at the end when I put my hands on either side of her hood and squeezed my arms closed; I spent high school and college in the weight room and, while I didn't need to, I kept it up when I graduated.
Then, just for effect, I smashed her windshield with the alternator I'd managed to break off her car – or maybe it was the air conditioning motor, what the fuck do I know? – and climbed back into my car.