Why Me?

by

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Cheating, Cuckold, Humiliation, Slow, .

Desc: Erotica Sex Story: The complications for this guy were more than remarkable.

We're the Fowlers: Dana and Gordon. Common age thirty-one. Married right out of high school: that makes thirteen years ago as of the first of next month. Dana's a beautician, learned the trade on the job working for Julia's Styles, a shop catering mostly to ladies with blue hair. I'm a short haul truck driver for Drummond Trucking, freight haulers. I'm never gone more than one day in a row, and most times home by five or six every night.

Maybe this would be a good place to describe us a little, physically that is; I mean before we get into the story per se. Dana's slender; tall, at five-eight; and pretty. Me? I'm a shade under five-seven; stocky, at one-seventy-five; hard bodied and strong—I bench 315 for reps. Did a little silver and golden gloves when I was younger. Did pretty good too, made it regional finals when I was seventeen.

At any rate, lookswise, and otherwise, Dana's way out of my league; but none of that's ever been an issue; well, until lately. Okay, and sex...

Sex between Dana and me has been good ever since we were seniors in high schools. I got her cherry, and she got mine the night of homecoming. But sex between us now is more than problematical, and I do mean more than! Oh and we have one daughter, Jessica, my pride and joy.


"I love you, Gordie, and no one else. Always have always will. But..." she'd started.

"But, what, Dana? What's all of this about? Why did you come down here today?" I said.

She'd called my cell a couple of hours earlier and had made a date with me for lunch at one of the stops I was making that today. We were seated in a not too tacky café just outside of town. Burgers downed, and the iced teas refilled she'd morphed from pensive, and mostly uncommunicative in any real sense, to nervous and anxious.

"Gordie, I have a lover. I needed to tell you. I don't want you finding out the wrong way, and so I made the decision to out myself and put it out there for the two of us to talk about," she said.

I suppose I hadn't really heard her, or having heard, her words had not registered with me, with my conscious mind. "Huh?"

"I have a lover, Gordie. He's a nice guy. But, just a part time thing. You know on the side. No threat to us, no threat at all. But, that said, I know you may see things differently than they in fact are. Anyway, I had to tell you," she said.

I was finally coming to grips with the meaning of her words. I was suddenly sick to my stomach. "No threat to us? What does that mean?" I said. She seemed to relax at hearing my words—that is—my tone which an outside observer might have described as matter-of-fact. I wasn't raving. I figured that had been the reason she wanted to out herself in a public place instead of at the house: she was afraid I might lose it. Well, and while that was not an impossibility; I probably wouldn't be doing that being the kind of person I thought myself to be.

"It means that what he and I do, in the best of all possible worlds, will not have any effect on you and me at all. I do not want a divorce. And, I repeat, I love you, not him. And, I am here to beg you to accept my proposal," she said.

"Proposal?" I said. I was pretty sure my less than boisterous reaction to her pronouncement was making an impact; I just wasn't sure what kind.

"Yes. After we leave here today, I am hoping that things between us will still be good. And, while I know it's going to be impossible for you to forget what I've told you; that's kind of what I am hoping you will try to do. Or, if not forget, which as I say I know would be hard, at least ignore what I've told you. I need you to consider what I said today as my being honest and up front with you and not a slap in your face, at least not that," she said.

I found myself feeling very calm almost detached from what she was saying, roiling stomach or no. The love of my life, my high school sweetheart had betrayed me. The mother of our thirteen year-old daughter, Jessica, was risking it all to fuck some other man—how did she say it—on the side. Calm, yes, I was calm, weirdly so at least outwardly.

I'd figure out what I was going to do sooner or later, but for the moment, I needed solitude.

"I see," I said. "Well, okay, I guess we'll be talking some more later." I could feel my voice beginning to crack, but I was still holding it together. "But, before you ask, I don't know what I am going to do right at the moment," I said. And, the truth was that I didn't. I loved her, and I loved our daughter; and whatever I decided to do would have to take into account those two very cogent realities.

"Okay, honey. Just please consider that I do love you, and I am praying that we can make it through this," she said. She rose to go. No kiss, no hug, she just rose to go; and then she was gone. And I was left to the rest of my day and my thoughts.


"How did he take it?" said Hiram Rogers.

"Honestly, I'm not sure. He didn't lose it like you thought he might. He just said that we'd be talking later," said Dana. "But, I made one big ass mistake, I just walked out. I didn't kiss him or hug him or anything. I guess I was just trying to retreat as fast as I could before he did lose it."

"Really? I'm surprised. Most husbands would either cry in their beer or lose it big time. But, you say he was just kind of matter-of-fact. You think he might be playing on the side himself? I mean..." he started. She gave him a look.

"What? Uh—no. Not my Gordie, not even," she said. He nodded, but looked dubious.

"I don't know. The way you say he reacted just doesn't seem normal to me," said Hiram.

"Well, if there is one thing I'm sure of is that Gordon Fowler would never cheat on me," she said. The hypocrisy of her words didn't seem to register with either of them.

"Whatever, I think it's time we did our thing," he said, smiling. "And, you and I will be talking later too." He began to strip. She matched him garment for garment.

Naked he moved to her and began exploring her body with his hands. She giggled as his fingers invaded the cleft of her buttocks and poked obscenely at the sphincter of her anus.

"Looking for some candy to go with your whipped cream," she mocked.

"Absolutely," he said. Pulling his fingers from her behind, he licked them clean. "Nice." She smiled her appreciation.

"Hmm, my turn," she said. She went to her knees and took hold of his eight inch penis. Stroking it a few times, she leaned in and let it slip between her lips. She began sucking on it. He jerked spasmodically as the sensation rocked his sexual world. Ready, he pulled her up, and turned her around. She leaned over the seat of the chair in front of her and spread her legs wide for him.

He poked at her pussy and gained an almost immediate lodgement. He began seesawing in and out of her. She grunted and moaned and dribbled spit down her cheeks as he took her. As usual he was able to last some minutes: long enough for her to stiffen announcing the arrival of another shattering climax, the main reason she was cheating on her husband. Her Gordon could never give her what her Hiram did. Guilt? Yes. If she had to choose, and she hoped she never would: Gordon Fowler was way better than Hiram in every other way but in bed. The climaxes that her Hiram gave her were irreplaceable. God how she feared the conversation she would be having with her husband just a few hours hence.


"No, Jimmy, my dad would never allow me to date a senior in high school; so just eat your heart out," giggled Jessica Fowler. "Just forget it."

"Okay, Jess, but I like you a lot even if I am four years older than you. And, I'd have no problem meeting your dad and asking his permission myself," said James Colby.

She watched the captain of the Central High football team walk off and away from her. Too bad, she thought, he's hot.


I was done early, but decided not to go directly home. I needed a drink. I needed it real bad. The Hard Hat, my favorite watering hole, was but fifteen minutes from the house, and the bartender Christina Mosely loved me and took care of all of my alcoholic needs.

I was hardly even seated before my favorite brand of Tennessee refreshment was in front of me. "Thanks, girl, I figure to need a few of these before the night is over," I said. She looked me askance. I knew she'd be probing for more info before too long.

I sat there sipping my drink and trying to figure how I was going to handle the disaster of my domestic situation. I knew I'd have to go home sooner or later. But, what then? What should I do or say to her when I did. And what about my junior high school daughter. Did she know? Should she know if she didn't already? Would she take her mother's side or mine? Mine I decided, at least in the short run.

And, who the hell was she fucking. It just occurred to me that I had asked almost no questions about her liaisons. I would be. But, when I did, would she be forthcoming or try to keep me in the dark? I had never hurt her or anyone outside of the ring, and that had been when I was a kid. I was still in shape working out as I did four days a week at Maximo's gym. Dana knew I could fight, but she'd never actually seen me. She had seen my trophies; they were at my parents' house upstate. But, I'm not sure she actually knew what I could do. Thinking about it, though, that might have been another reason that she outted herself: to keep her lover from being beat like a cur dog. But, then again, who really knew? I sure didn't.

"So, hot shot, you have that look. Wifey giving you trouble?" said Tina.

"You could say that. She informed me today that she loved the hell outta me, but that she'd taken a lover on the side, and hoped I didn't mind," I said.

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Story tagged with:
Cheating / Cuckold / Humiliation / Slow /