Stacy and Julian Mccormack

by Matt Moreau

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Cheating, Wimp Husband, Cuckold, Humiliation, Slow, .

Desc: Erotica Sex Story: She has a young lover but assures hubby that it doesn't make any difference. Hubby is more than dubious.

Stacy McCormack and I have been married for the past eighteen years; I'm Julian McCormack. We'd been boyfriend-girlfriend, or fiancés for an aggregate of six years before that, if you count high school, and I do. And, yes, that makes our common age thirty-eight if you're figuring.

Stacy back then, when we were freshmen, was a dolly as far as I'm concerned. Five-nine, slender, silky brunette hair, and an hourglass figure even at her then age of fourteen. She has filled out a little since those early days, but she's done so in ways that have enhanced her looks rather than the other way 'round. Then there is me:, five-five; also slender back then, a bit of a paunch now but only a bit; sandy hair, somewhat thinning now; and all of my other moving parts in relatively good order.

Stacy's an interior decorator for Merlyn Home Furnishings. Me, I'm an electrician for Carter Construction, a trade I learned on the job and expanded my knowledge of in junior college. Financially we do okay. Her forty-K and my eighty has been enough. So, no, money hasn't been a problem for us. In fact our childless marriage has been pretty much problem free until this minute.

He was banging her good and proper. And, he was doing it on my bed; well, mine and Stacy's.

"Stacy?" I said. My tone, I was sure, sounded as disbelieving as had to be the look in my eyes. "Are we divorcing?" Their gaze snapped around and brought me into focus. She looked at me, wrinkled her brow, and sighed.

"Go downstairs and wait, Julian. I'll be down shortly," she said. The stranger on top of her was smirking—and not pulling out of her. If I'd thought I had a chance against him, I would have wiped it off, the smirk that is; but I didn't have a chance (He was well over six feet and at least two hundred pounds), so any revenge I might seek to secure in any future world would have to wait for much improved circumstances. But wait downstairs as she'd ordered me? Not hardly.

I might be just a union shop electrician, but I am an avid reader. Sun Tzu's Art of War was actually in my tool box: strike first, fast, and leave 'em baffled and bewildered. I left and headed for Carmen Mendoza's shop to get the ball rolling. We'd see just how her arrogance would play when she was served: Carmen was a lawyer.

Carmen was an old high school flame who I'd dated during a temporary break up between me and Stacy; that had been in our senior year at Middleton Prep. Carmen'd gone to state, gotten her JD, and passed the state bar. Had her own shop now. She handled mostly lightweight criminal law; but, I knew she'd take care of me. Besides, I figured I might need her investigative skills which I knew to be top drawer.

"Quit that goddamn smirking, Gerald Crabtree, and get dressed. I've got to go downstairs and sooth some ruffled feathers.

"He'll be in the kitchen, so you go out the front door and try to be quiet doing it. I don't want him to see you," said Stacy.

"So what if he sees me? He's already seen me, kinda totally, if you know what I mean," said Gerald.

"Yes, and that was unfortunate. I am not going to be rubbing his nose in it. Just do as I ask, okay?" she said.

"Okay, okay. No problem," he said.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Stacy immediately noticed that the front door was wide open.

"Gerald, wait here for a second will you?" she said. He nodded; he'd noticed the open door too. She disappeared into the kitchen. She came out seconds later.

"He's not here. He's left. Gone somewhere," she said. "This is not good. I knew he'd be in a snit. But..."

'Yeah, he probably needs a drink. I would," he laughed. "He'll be back. You might wanna give him some space for a couple of days. I mean before you lay whatever on him."

"Yeah, maybe," she said. Her look spelled worried.

I wondered if my disappearing would bother her. Realistically, I figured it would. I don't know what she would have been saying to me if I'd stayed around to hear her out, but I'm sure I wouldn't have liked it, of that I was dead-mortal-lead-pipe-cinch certain.

I signed for the motel room and was just picking up my little tote bag, when my cell went off. It was her; well, it figured to be. I answered it.

"Julian, where the hell are you?" she said.

"Why in hell do you care? But to answer your question, away from you," I said.

"You need to come home. We need to talk," she said.

"Why? Somebody else has already taken my place in your bed. Whaddya need me for?" I said. Oh, and a little young for your wasn't he? I mean you robbin' the cradle as well and screwing me over?"

"Nobody's taken anybody's place. And, I'm not screwing you over either. You need to come home so we—I—can straighten this out. Okay? Please." She said.

"I note that your tone is a whole lot different than a little while ago when you arrogantly told me to go downstairs and wait till you and your fuck buddy were done cuckolding me," I said. "And, for the record that does equate with you screwing me over."

"Well—I—I mean I don't know what..." she started. She gathered herself. "I didn't mean to sound—arrogant—bad," she said. "I was just surprised to see you. You weren't..."

"Supposed to catch you and the asshole you were fucking. Yeah, I figured that much out myself. You'll need to be talking to my lawyer, not to me directly from here on out. Mine'll be in touch soon. Bye," I said. I hung up.

"He's contacting a lawyer," she said, as she sat heavily down in the chair.

"At least he answered the phone," said Gerald. "You want me to stick around? I mean in case..."

"Huh? No. If he were to suddenly decide to come back and find us together. No, no, that would not be good," she said.

"No, I guess not," he said. "Stace, if it comes down to that, I mean divorce, I could maybe help you, but I'm not yet licensed..."

"Yes, yes, I know," she said. "But, I don't want a divorce. Eighteen years of marriage—happy marriage actually—precludes that. Damn it why did he have to walk in on us like that?"

"Well, he did. You thought he wouldn't be back until tomorrow. His parents, right?" he said.

"Yes, mom and dad McCormack needed him for something. They're moving, they needed him for the whole weekend, or so he said. I guess their plans changed."

"You caught some guy screwing her? Really?" said Carmen Mendoza.

"Yes, and she had the brass cajones to tell me to wait downstairs till she was done," I said.

"Brass? I'd say more like Titanium," said Carmen.

"Yeah, well, whatever," I said. "Anyway, how soon can you serve her?"

"Next Friday work for you?" she said.

"Yes," I said. "Can I sue the asshole too?"

"Probably not a good idea. Alienation of affection is a toughie and most likely not worth the time and effort, let alone the cost. But, if you want, I can try," she said.

"Okay, I'll let you know before the end of the week on that one. Would that be okay?" I said.

"That will be fine, so long as you do not want them served at the same time," said Carmen.

We talked a little longer, and made a date for dinner the following night. Well, she was an old flame of sorts.

I wasn't ready for it, but I should have at least expected something of the sort. Well, I didn't expect it, so she nailed me.

"Son, you have a visitor," said my mom, Gladys McCormack. It took me about four nano-seconds to deduce who it had to be. I was trapped. My mother would never allow me to shine the woman on regardless of her crimes against me. It's not the way either she or I were raised. I sighed.

"Okay, mom. Send her in." I said, unenthusiastically. She nodded and by that I mean she nodded gravely. Eleven seconds later the woman was standing there, and mom disappeared.

"Hello, Julian. I have tried everything to get you to talk to me. This was my last resort. Please, hear me out. Please," she said.

"What is there to say, Stacy. You've replaced me. I saw it. I believe it. That ends it," I said.

"Wrong—wrong—and wrong!" she said, and that with emphasis.

"Hmm," was my brilliant retort.

"Julian!" she said, in a begging tone.

"Get to it, Stacy. I'm here. I'm trapped. You've got me. Lay it on me," I said. "You know: the why, the who, the how long for starters. She took a deep breath.

She nodded. "Okay, Julian. But first I want to apologize for treating shabbily. I didn't mean to, but looking at it now, I guess I did," she said.

"Yes, you did mean to. It's clear to me you hold me in contempt, and figure you can do anything you want to me and get away with it. That your reasoning is flawed, however, goes without saying now.

"And yeah, you did treat me shabbily," I said. She sent me a 'please' have mercy on me look. "Oh, and since this is likely the last time we'll be talking without lawyers, the truth and nothing but, okay? Please." She nodded.

"Okay, okay then. The why: I need a larger cock than you've got. You're so small, and well, I just needed something bigger; you know, on the side."

"Well, I did say I wanted the truth didn't I," I said, wondering if I'd ever be able to get over my current feelings of humiliation.

"The who? His name is Gerald. He's a law student, last semester actually. And, Julian before you start calling him names. He's a nice guy," she said.

"Yeah, I'm sure. And, just so you'll know, for him, asshole is about as nice as it's going to get. And nice guy? Yeah right, nice enough to steal my wife away from me," I said, about as sarcastically as I could. She gave me a look.

"He's not trying to steal me away from you. But, how long? I wish you hadn't asked that," she said.

.... There is more of this story ...

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Cheating / Wimp Husband / Cuckold / Humiliation / Slow /