My Wild Wife

by RichardGerald

Copyright© 2016 by RichardGerald

Romantic Story: What happens when a husband discovers a past his wife has hidden from him.

Tags: Ma/Fa   Romantic   Heterosexual   Fiction   Slow  

A brief story with no hard sex and no BTB. You have Michael K to thank for cleaning up my grammar. I would like to thank Vickie for her work on my last story. I forgot but please accept my belated thanks. All comments welcome. If you send comments privately, remember I can't reply if you don't give an address.

I met my wife Jessica one Thursday while she was studying for her Master's of English Literature at SUNY. Until recently, I thought that Thursday was the luckiest day of my life. I'm a bit of a nerd as most people see right away but Jess, as everyone calls her, is a stunning brunette with sea green eyes and a swimsuit model's body.

I was at the University only to take an advanced Calculus course. Calc has always been my weak subject. I'm a day trader. Before you get the wrong idea, I make a good, if modest, living. I have my own trading algorithm that I developed over the last ten years. I was brushing up my skills at SUNY when I ran into the beautiful Jessica.

I mean that literally. I ran into her and knocked her over. As I helped her up off the University Quad, she actually smiled at the clumsy jerk I am. We headed to the Starbucks in the library building so I could make a meaningful apology. It was there that I got Jessica's reason for being in the Quad where she could be run over by clumsy me.

"I'm Jessica by the way," she said taking a seat.

"Matt, Mathew Turner," I replied.

Jess was a creative writing graduate from the University of Iowa. It is a very prestigious program, but eighteen months after graduation she was still getting only minimum wage job offers. Her dreams of being a writer fading, she had returned to school for an advanced degree that would allow her to teach. Instead this nerdy guy met the beauty who somehow managed six months later to talk her into marriage.

I did one positive thing for Jess' career, I got her into editing. I still believe that some day she will be a great writer, but I convinced her that freelance editing would be a good start for her career. I am proud to say that I was right. After we were married and she started freelancing, a small publisher noticed her work. They gave her full-time employment as a fiction editor.

Jess loves her job, and she has been getting some feelers for her own work. I guess that is where the trouble started. Jess had to spend a week in California, not really a big deal since we had been separated before during our five-year marriage. The problem was that it was the week in June that we had planned to attend some real estate open houses. The Condo where we lived was a rental in North Greenbush near to all the strip malls. The owner had relocated back to Florida in 09 but the real estate market after the crash was too poor to sell.

Now that the market had revived, the owner decided to sell the Condo, but his price was way more than we wanted to pay for a two bedroom on the wrong side of the river. Jess and I decided to look for a real house; one where we could start our family now that we were ready.

On Saturday morning with Jess in Los Angeles, I started the house hunt. The plan was that I would look at what was available and collect the information. Then Jess and I would go back and look over what seemed promising. I set out with my little home inspection kit—a pen light, small screwdriver, stud finder, and miscellaneous tools. Hey, I said I was a nerd.

If you don't know how these open houses work, there is usually a realtor or two present representing the owner. They will walk you through and then give you some free time to poke around while they grab the next prospect. I was in the basement/family room looking at a water heater installed in a utility closet.

"You know what you're looking for?" A tall, handsome fellow said.

As I turned to him, I was struck by how familiar he looked, but I could not place him.

"No, but I bought a book on what to check out when buying a home," I said showing him the little paperback.

"Frederick Hunter, but they call me Rick," He said holding out his hand.

"Matt Turner," I replied taking his hand.

We briefly discussed the merits of the home we were in and came to the mutual conclusion that it was overpriced. He had done some checking, and informed me it had been on the market a while.

"Over mortgaged I believe. It might be a good short sale prospect," he said.

We discussed the various aspects of short sales and the fact that my current needs made that particular approach impractical for me.

"Takes far too long. My wife and I need to move in three months."

"Well, I'm single, and while I have just moved here, I'm in no rush. I can put up with the cramped apartment for a year if I must. What I need is a good deal considering my cash situation," Rick said.

He asked where I was going next, and we turned out to have virtually the same list. Normally, I would not have taken up with a total stranger, but he looked so familiar, and a little bell seemed to go off in my head when I heard his name. I was sure that I had never met him, but yet I still felt that I knew him somehow.

At the next house we were shown around by a cute little blond. She had to be at least five years younger than me and my companion of the moment. I sensed more in the smile she gave my new friend than the standard agent come on. After the little tour, she and Rick split off so he supposedly could get some more financial information on the house.

The property was not huge. It was a three-bedroom starter house, but in a neighborhood with larger more recently built homes. The furnace was thirty years old, but I noticed immediately that the duct work was new. The homeowners had added central air conditioning.

You can pay thirty thousand for a new furnace or get the same for five. The difference is what you need with it. This house had all the extras. All it needed was a new heating unit. The old furnace was hurting the sale price, but realtors rarely advise a furnace replacement to sellers. I marked it as a definite for Jess to look at because the old furnace should get us a discount.

I found Rick exiting a half bath off the living room. The real estate agent was right behind him, and she was adjusting her skirt. It did not take a genius to guess what happened in that bathroom.

Rick and I looked at three more houses and then broke for lunch at a chain sandwich shop. As he sat across from me, I could not help, but ponder how I knew him. Rick Hunter had a significant physical presence with a sure and captivating manner. He was the kind of man women fell all over themselves for.

"What did you think of that little realtor this morning?" he asked.

"The one you had in the bathroom?"

"You noticed."

"It was a bit obvious," I said.

"Sometimes you just know looking at a woman that she wants you and is up for it."

"I noticed she wore a wedding ring."

"The married ones are the easiest. If there is little chance of her getting caught there is nothing to hold her back. Women use sex as a control lever on a man, but if she already has someone permanent all she wants from you is to scratch her itch," he said with a smirk.

"What about the husband?"

"How is he hurt? He wasn't using her that minute, and we are long past the era when women need to worry about pregnancy."

"What about STD's?

"I always carry condoms and stick to the high-end part of town."

"Does it often happen like that?"

"No, I am not usually that casual, but I'm new to town and making friends. I take it you are one of those men who tries to keep his wedding vows. I noticed your ring, and you mentioned a wife," he said, nodding his head toward my left hand.

"Yes, I have a wonderful wife, and I wouldn't risk my marriage for anything."

"You are fortunate. I only came close to marriage once. She was the wildest woman that I ever knew and the best in bed. I couldn't keep up with her. She had everything, both beauty and brains, but there was something special that drew men to her like a magnet," he said a wistful look overtaking his features.

"What happened?"

"She said no. My Jess said no. She had her reasons as she explained then. She said that I was not the kind of man to be faithful to one woman. It was one thing to fuck me and half the studs on the Iowa campus, but she wanted to settle down, be a one-woman man, have babies, and live a normal life."

"To tell the truth, I can't see how a woman who could take three men at once and pull trains three days running would ever settle down to a monogamous life. I suspect she did not like my finances. That's the problem with smart women. They make good decisions," he said with a sad little laugh.

I almost had how I knew him. The little bell was ringing in my head.

"You asked a woman who enjoyed multiple partners to marry you?" I asked.

"I'm not the kind of guy who normally likes to share his woman, but you have to understand the situation. This woman could turn a man inside out sexually. In bed, she had no equal. When I met her, she was a freshman. I was in my third year of what became six at Iowa University. I was on a tennis scholarship. I planned and actually did turn pro eventually."

"At first, she was inexperienced. No virgin, of course, some pimple faced high school boy had relieved her of her cherry, but she was wonderfully inexperienced when I found her. The first time, I took her to bed she wowed me with her eagerness. When I showed her what more we could do together, she showed me how much she was ready.

"This was a woman who was truly open. When I brought a second woman to the bed, she near fucked us both to death. It was a short and welcome step to her doing two men at once. She proved to be without limits. If you wanted to do something, all you needed to do is ask."

The bell had truly gone off. I knew him from a series of photographs. My mother-in-law kept albums of my wife growing up from infancy through University. The last set of pictures were my wife's graduation from the University of Iowa. I had spent time with Mom while I courted Jess looking at the albums. There were pictures of Jess and her old boyfriend, Fred. Jess never spoke of him, but my mother-in-law did once when Jess was not present saying how glad she was that her daughter had turned the tennis bum down.

I did not believe the things that he was saying, or even if true that they applied to my Jess. Yes, he was certainly the man in the pictures. Yes, Jess attended the University of Iowa with him. They knew each other, but that was it. My wife was not a wild woman. She did not have sex with multiple partners.

We made sweet love together. I did not come to the marriage with a great deal of experience. I had only two previous liaisons before Jessica. They were brief, and the sex was rather vanilla. In my marriage, I had tried to introduce varying positions and even a little kink. Jess would only go so far and then she shut me down.

"We don't need all that. Come make love to me. I want more from you than sex," she would say. This was the most wonderful woman in the world, so of course, I complied.

No, what he said did not apply to my woman. My Jessica was not like that.

"I can't wait to see her again. She lives around here but is away at the moment. I'm hoping we can get together next week. I guess she is married now. 'A good guy, ' she tells me, but I still have hopes of tapping that sweet ass again. She has a great fuckable ass. Never saw a woman who enjoyed anal more. But we should get back to the house hunt. I have talked enough about my little seahorse," he said.

"SEAHORSE," I said trying to keep my voice under control

"Yea, she has a seahorse-shaped birth mark in a very intimate place. Shaved down there, very proud of that little scarlet mark ... Hey, you all right?"

A set of icy fingers had gripped my heart. My Jessica had a birthmark just above her vulva that had the shape of a little sea horse.

I'm, I'm fine. Let's go look at houses," I said.


My trip to California had been completely successful. I'm Mrs. Jessica Turner, the newly appointed senior fiction editor of Bradley Milton Books. It's a small publishing house but a good one. The promotion came as a surprise. I was only expecting to meet in person with the people I had been teleconferencing. They threw me a small party to celebrate my new job.

I took the opportunity of being in LA to meet a literary agent who had expressed interest in the first three chapters of my novel. She was very excited by my work, and we signed a representation agreement. Yes, it was an exceptional trip with only the one little blip.

My Husband Matt was very distant when I spoke to him on the phone Saturday night. I called him again on Sunday, and he seemed a bit better but still cool, not the loving husband I had known for the last five years. I let it pass because I was due to fly out Monday night, after my last meeting. Matt's behavior was troubling and so unlike him but I would deal with it when I got home.

I had picked my husband very carefully. In college, I had been a bit wild. However, I promised myself to be better. I was not going to end up unhappy like the other sluts and whores that I hung out with. When college was over, so were my wild days or more accurately nights. I was looking for a good steady man to love me, and be a good father to my children.

I first saw Matt on the SUNY campus where I was taking education courses. He didn't notice me. That's a bit of an ego flattener when you can't get a man's attention. This had not happened to me before. Well, I soon arranged to have him run into me. I planted myself behind one of the inverse curved columns as he was walking by and just as he passed, I stepped out.

With the fish on the hook, all I needed to do was reel him in. I had been observing Mathew Turner for some time. He checked all my boxes. He was reasonably good looking, taller than me, kind to a fault, and financially sound. It was only the last qualification, I worried about. A friend at the car dealer where he bought his rather conservative Acura SUV had pulled his credit report.

Matt paid cash for most things. He seemed to have money, but his occupation was not obvious. After dating him, I learned where his income came from. I was a bit concerned but as I grew to know Matt, I became sure he was a prudent man with money. By then I had developed real feelings for my big gentle man. He was very intelligent, and rather fun, in a quiet way.

My man was no great shakes in bed which I found out by seducing him on our ninth date. I played the good girl even as I maneuvered him into bed. He knew very little, and it was easy to conceal my past. We made pleasant love. No marathon sex romps. There was no oral or anal for him but plenty of oral for me.

So it was no great lust between us, and on my side no love crazed girl. I was not going to be ruled by my cunt or my heart. I loved him with my head and hoped all the rest would follow. I quickly saw that on his side he was totally in love, both with me and the idea of us. He was a man who was meant to be married, and he would be happiest in that state.

The tone of his phone calls were very troubling. Something had happened. I hoped it was not some financial setback. I wanted to buy our first home, and I was set to start making a family. As soon as we closed the contract on the house, the birth control pills were history. It was a mutual choice to start a family, but be real, the final decision was mine.

I had it figured out. We both worked from home. I put in long hours between editing others and writing my novel. Matt had more time to devote to raising children. He was a genius who worked from 6 a.m. until 3 p.m. I could work the afternoons and evenings. Ours would be a truly shared parenting.

Yes, I had my life planned going forward. Did I miss the wild sex? Well, of course, I did. Not a day went by that I did not get that itch women feel so much more than men. It isn't all or even mostly sex. It's that new man desire— to unwrap him like a present, to feel him, and learn his little differences. The chase, the hunt, and the seduction that men mistakenly believe they control.

I missed the wild parties and the occasional dalliances with multiple partners. But I had traded that for so much more. Loving just one man is hard, but rewarding. I also kept my man in the dark about my past. It was nothing that I felt he needed to know. What man needs to know the details of his wife's former sex life? Matt certainly would derive no benefit from comparing himself to a long list of my former sex partners. He is a good man, the man with whom I had chosen to spend the rest of my life. To me, that was all he needed to know.

As the plane handed, I was feeling good. Whatever the problem was with Matt, I felt sure we would see it through together. Albany is not a big airport. It's a short walk to the baggage check. I smiled as I saw him there waiting for me by the bag carousel, but he did not smile back. Something was definitely wrong.

I wrapped my arms around my husband and gave him a big kiss that he half-heartedly returned. He turned as the luggage from my plane began to slide down the chute.

"What's wrong baby?" I asked.

"Nothing," he replied.

His answer did not reassure me. It did just the opposite. Whatever was bothering him was serious.

That night I took my husband to bed and made love to him hoping this would ameliorate the problem. It did zilch. I think for the first time in our marriage, I felt no love flowing toward me during the act. It was as if he were someplace else.

I went to sleep puzzled and unsatisfied. I awoke the next morning with a clear head and a terrible thought, "Is he having an affair?"

No, that seemed an impossibility but maybe a one-night indiscretion that was now torturing him with guilt. I felt white hot anger in that instant. I had never conceived that I could be a jealous woman, but just the thought of another woman's hands on my husband, and I was ready to do bodily harm. What could he have done and with whom?

An instant later, I regained control of that she-cat within. I realized how a sensitive man like my husband must be suffering. He was too good a man to cheat without paying a very high emotional price. I needed information and I needed it fast. But how to get it?

Matt had been up for hours working on his computers. He has half a dozen separate screens monitoring stock exchanges across the globe. At 11:30 a.m., he would break for lunch.

"Honey, could you get us some wonton soup?"

"Can't you order it?" he responded from the spare bedroom we used as a mutual office.

"It will do you good to get out and get some air. Take a break, you'll feel better for it.'

Reluctantly he acceded to my wishes. The moment the door closed, I was at work. I'm really not the suspicious type of woman. But I have concerns for my husband that run deep. I knew his every password. It took just moments to search his email accounts for evidence of someone else. Nothing. Next a call to the cell provider for a call and text history that would take them a few hours to compile. I made as through a search of the condo as a few moments allowed.

In short the only thing I took from the exercise was a nice hot bowl of soup. If something had gone on in my absence, I could not find it. But whatever had happened related back to Saturday, of that I was sure.

Around five-thirty, my cell rang. Matt was in the kitchen fixing dinner. He is the cook. My mother strove to teach me the culinary arts with little success. Matt was great in the kitchen. I cleaned and did the laundry. We had a marriage of equals where I was the most equal.

"Hello," I said.

"Hi Jess," Fredrick said.

"Fred, why are you calling me?"

"Hey, it's Rick. You know I hate to be called Fred."

He did hate Fred. He felt it made him sound weak. My attitude was that Fred suited him and yes he was weak. In fact, he was very weak. I had walked all over him when we were together. He had only one asset of value to a woman like me, and that was between his legs.

"Same question, whatever name you use. Why are you calling me?"

"I want to see you, as I said last time I called. I'm in town, we need to get together."

"Like last time, the answer is NO. I'm married."

"So bring him along or better still invite me over so we can meet."

"NO to that, but I guess lunch for old time sake will not hurt. Friday 11:00 a.m. at County-Line by the University."

Fred or Rick, as he liked to be called, was part of my past. It had been an exciting past and one I would love to continue but not at the cost of what I had. I was an adult with adult responsibilities. I had a husband and soon with God's help children to care for. I had a good career and a chance to be a published novelist. I was living the dream and had no wish to descend into a nightmare.

County-Line is an unusually shaped place. A long virtual windowless box that ends in a wall of glass at the far end which then opens to an elaborate outside serving deck. Sit at the street end and you are hidden from view while in plain sight. You are highly unlikely to be seen because everyone looks the other way but if you were spotted you would not seem to have been hiding.

I had chosen the place when that idiot Fred first called knowing that sooner or later I would have to meet him. My concern at the moment was not to complicate the difficult situation that had developed with Matt. I always went grocery shopping on Friday. Matt made the list, and I did the week's shopping. I would just take a little longer that day.

Matt continued in his funk Wednesday. We had no sex Tuesday, but that was not unusual. My good girl image and my problem required that I keep my interest in sex to a minimum. I let him initiate it and usually turned him down every other time. I could not go too far with my husband without risking my self-control.

I needed him to need me and desire me but I had to hold back for fear of where too much sex might lead. I know that seems self-centered, but my therapist had advised me how difficult my addiction could be. I had been seeing her almost from the day I married Matt. He knew about her, but not that it was the fear of losing him that had driven me to seek help.

On the one hand, I felt sure and confident in my marriage but something inside kept telling me that unless I was careful I would not keep my husband. My therapist urged me to come clean with my spouse, but I could not bring myself to that point. After all, Matt would never know. I would never show him that wild side of my sexuality, and by keeping it in check I avoided losing control.

My immediate problem was the possible infidelity of my husband. I was at my wits end. I had convinced myself that it was a single one-time thing. It had to be. The alternative was both unthinkable and unacceptable. Moreover, whatever he had done, I had to know. By Thursday, I decided that I would confront him with it Friday evening.

I would take my husband out to dinner at his favorite restaurant and get him loose on wine. Poor Matt didn't hold his wine well. Later in bed, I would corner him and make him think I knew more than I did. Hopefully, he would confess some minor indiscretion that we could easily put behind us.

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