This story is an homage to Matt Moreau. Well, kind of. None of the characters in this story are based on any of his.

KingBandor kindly gave the story a read, and pointed out a few mistakes that I corrected.

“Danny, this isn’t something that needs to affect us. Not in any real or meaningful way. It’s something completely outside of us.”

You’re probably wondering why my bride of twelve years just made that statement to me just now.

Thirty minutes earlier I had walked out of my office building, where I work as a CPA for a medium size accounting firm, to walk a couple of blocks to the diner I frequented a couple of times a week to grab a quick lunch. Across the street from my work they were building a new eight story office building. There was a food truck there with a long line of construction workers waiting to order.

Seeing the long line, I assumed the food must be good so I decided to get something from the food truck instead of the diner. That one impulsive decision snowballed into a dramatic change of the path my life was on.

I grabbed a beef burrito from the food truck, and once again made an impetuous and unwise decision for them to “make it spicy.” Apparently, the gastronomical constitution of my 5’8, 150 lb. frame wasn’t built to partake in the same dining habits of construction workers. To make a long story short within minutes the burrito felt like a hot tornado in my stomach, which made me rush home to the privacy of my personal toilet for what I knew would be a long, arduous and unpleasant experience. This was to be the second mistake of my afternoon, but there were several more to follow in that afternoon from hell.

Parking my car haphazardly on the street, I rushed around the strange car in my driveway, and hastily rushed up the stairs to use the bathroom attached to our master bedroom. Running halfway into my bedroom, I was stopped short with the sight of my wife riding cowgirl over a rather large man. It was rather ironic that when she told me “it’s something completely outside of us” he was still inside of her. Although, thankfully, she was tactful enough to stop bouncing up and down on him.

She was atop him, facing the headboard, with her back to me. However, her husband’s unexpected appearance wasn’t enough to unhitch her cunt from his cock. But his surprised look in my direction made her twist her back slightly towards me. It was in that position that she addressed me.

My mouth agape, I continued to dumbly stare at them. The shock temporarily sealing my anus shut tight enough to keep the tornado contained. As she and I continued to wordlessly stare at one another, every couple of seconds her hips would gyrate slightly in a semi-circle grinding her cunt on his cock. That in turn would elicit him to jerk his groin up, pushing his cock further into her. I must have interrupted them at a particularly animated moment, and they seemed unable or unwilling to completely disengage.

The shock must have started to wear off, because my bowels started screaming at me once again. I rushed to the bathroom, slamming the door behind me and barely made it to the toilet before all hell broke loose.

For the first few minutes I had to focus on the pressing biological interplay between my bowels and the toilet. This gave me a much-needed reprieve of having to deal with what I had just witnessed. Unfortunately, the reprieve was short lived. Fifteen minutes after entering the bathroom, I steeled myself before opening the bathroom door to deal with my errant wife. I was hoping the large man had made his exit so that I could deal with her without his interference.

No such luck as he was still there. He was standing on the left side of the bed pulling down his shirt, with the lower half of his body completely nude. Shelly was just getting out of the bed from the opposite side, still completely naked. Obviously, my being in the next room hadn’t been enough of a hindrance to stop them from continuing and finishing what I had so thoughtlessly interrupted.

As he was putting on his shirt, Shelly walked past me over to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, molded her nude body into his and reached up on her toes to kiss him on the lips. While she was looking up at him and adoringly kissing him, he was looking sideways into my eyes, challenging me, with a large smirk on his face. Finally, she backed away and went to his left side, keeping her right arm around his waist. Now they were both facing me. Him half dressed, her still completely nude. He wrapped his left arm over her naked shoulder. With his hand dangling down he possessively grabbed her left breast.

Shelly looked up at him adoringly and giggled, “Tom, you’re so bad”. She put her own palm on top of the hand holding her breast, and gave it a squeeze.

Looking at me, Shelly’s tone changed to slightly more serious, “Tom, I need to talk to Danny. I’ll call you later, ok baby?”

Tom looked slightly down at her, smiled and graciously nodded. He then turned to face me once again, with the same smirk on his face that seemed reserved for me. Both his facial expression and body posture seemed to be challenging me to make a verbal objection or take a physical go at him. He had at least 6 to 7 inches of height, and 60 to 70 pounds of muscle on me. We both knew who would come out on the short end of that confrontation. I’m ashamed to say that I was the first to break eye contact and look away.

He laughed at that and once he finished dressing, he walked towards the bedroom door. He went out of his way to bump his shoulder against mine, jerking me slightly back.

He turned around before exiting the bedroom, “Babe, why don’t you pack up some stuff and come and move in with me like we always talked about?”

“Tom, please go. I promise we’ll talk later, ok?”

“Ok, Ok. I’ll wait for your call, babes. If you have any trouble with the little man, let me know and I’ll be right back. Don’t forget about Saturday ... But now that he knows, just spend the whole weekend with me.”

Shelly was looking directly into my eyes, as she answered him, “Tom, we’ll get together at some point for sure. I’m not sure about spending the whole weekend together yet though, baby. I’ll let you know. But you don’t have to worry about Danny here. He’s as gentle as a kitten, and as loyal and loving as a well-trained little puppy.”

Tom laughed at that, “You’ve told me over and over again about how little he is. He has his pants up so I can’t see what you call his little dicklet. But the rest of him is so little his little dicklet has to be as small as you say it is.”

Shelly chuckled at that, but for the first time I thought I saw her blush, “Tom, honey, please, you’re not helping. Please go now and let me talk to my husband and get him to see how things are going to be from now on. Please go now, ok?”

“Ok, ok!” With that Tom turned and finally left.

My wife was not only cheating on me, but there was no contrition, no shame, no I’m sorry’s. And she was scheduling her next get together with her lover right in front of me. Hell of a thing for a husband to walk into. My only hope was that my indigestion had done a number on my brain and I was hallucinating this whole farce.

Interestingly, once her lover left the room, Shelly thought it was finally the right time to cover herself and put on her robe.

She and I were staring at one another intently when I heard the front door close, hoping behind Tom. Neither one of us said anything. Me, because my brain still hadn’t wrapped itself around the scene I had walked into. Knowing her, she was waiting for me to be the first to fold and acquiesce to her once again.

Over the years I had always given in to Shelly. She had always gotten her way. I was always too weak when it came to her. After several minutes of staring each other down I was the first to break once again.

“How long?”

She gave me a little smirk and dismissively said, “How long doesn’t matter, Honey! You’re asking the wrong question.”

“Oh, and what is the right question?”

“The right question is am I leaving you. How does this affect us? Do I love him? Do I not love you anymore?”

“It looks like you’re going to be asking ‘the right questions’ and providing all the answers too Shelly ... Ok, I’ll play along, are you leaving me?”

“No, honey, I have no intention of leaving you if you play your cards right and don’t overreact to this. What you saw has nothing to do with us. It’s something completely outside of us. It’s something I need in addition to us, not instead of us.”

The practiced way Shelly said this, and the fact that this was pretty much a reiteration of the first thing she said when I first caught them, made me realize that this was a well prepared and rehearsed speech by her. Maybe she had anticipated being caught one day, or had planned on preemptively laying all of this out on me at some point.

“He said you guys planned on moving in together. How do you plan on moving in with him without leaving me?”

Shelly waved her hand dismissively, “Danny, forget about all that. He keeps on talking about us moving in together, not me. He’s my main man when it comes to sex, but you’re my main man in every other way. So, forget about the stuff he said. I’m not leaving you, and he and me are not moving in together. I need you both, not one over the other, ok?” Shelly finished that with an exasperated sigh, as if frustrated with having to explain herself repeatedly to two petulant and dense children.

“Ok, you’re not planning on leaving me. That would mean that you’re leaving him!?”

Shelly shook her head with a frown on her face.

“Honey, you’re not paying attention. I just got done telling you that this has nothing to do with us. That I need this. You heard me promise Tom that we’ll be getting together this weekend. Just because I don’t want to move in with him, doesn’t mean I don’t want him. What made you think I have any intention of breaking things off with him?”

That food truck must have been a portal to some parallel universe. This can’t be the same woman I’ve known for nearly twenty years and been married to twelve. Was she always this insane or has her gray matter been fucked out of her?

“I remember you making certain promises to me too, honey. You know little ones like forsaking all others kind of thing. Do you remember those, because if you don’t, we have it on a CD I can play back for you?”

“Stop being silly, Danny! I’m not leaving you and I’m not breaking up with Tom. The sooner you accept that the better off everyone will be.”

So, I guess I was the problem, being obstinate about not sharing my wife. We weren’t getting anywhere fast here.

“Shelly, again, how long and more importantly why?”

“Honey, I told you already that how long doesn’t matter. How does you knowing that help you accept things and help you wrap your head around this whole thing? And I’ve already told you why.”

“Shelly, who said anything about me accepting things and wrapping my head around any of this shit!? And, no, you haven’t told me why dammit.”

“First of all, don’t you dare raise your voice at me, Danny. I’m doing my best to patiently explain everything to you. So, don’t you dare get snippy with me little man. Do you hear me?

“And, yes, I have told you the why. I just didn’t get into details about it to spare your little feelings and your male ego. I told you that it’s something that I need. Look, Danny, you’re a pretty boring guy. There are a lot of great things about you, but being good in bed isn’t one of them. Bottom line you don’t do it for me in that department, you never did. Tom could’ve been nicer about how he said it, but like he said you’re pretty small down there. On the other hand, Tom is all man. He’s like a god in that department.

“You saw him, honey. You saw how big his cock is. And on top of that he’s 6’3 and you say you’re 5’8. I’m 5’10 barefoot, and in heels I tower over you. He’s big and broad and he’s got muscles all over. You saw how big and manly he is, Danny. He makes me feel like a woman when I’m with him...”

“Then why the fuck are you still here? Why don’t you just pack up your shit and go after him?”

“Danny, you need to calm down. This isn’t getting us anywhere. I’m not going to deal with you until you get over your snit. You need to get over yourself and get with the program little man. You need to see that nothing has changed between us.

“I’ve been seeing Tom for almost two years now. You never knew it and it never bothered us. Now that it’s in the open I’ll probably see him a little more, but just a little more and maybe a weekend here and there. We’ve been wanting to do that for a while now, but to spare your little feelings we’ve been keeping things on the down low. No more!” Shelly finished of her tirade with an exasperation like she was remembering all the times my existence has been a bane in their ability to express their lust for one another.

She calmed her tone down and changed her tactic, “But, baby, that just gives you more time to pursue your own hobbies. You’re going to see this is good for us. This isn’t something that’s going to hurt us at all unless you make it.”

I was seeing Shelly in a completely different light for the first time since I first laid eyes on her in the seventh grade. All these years, I had put together a story in my head of who she was. But I was starting to see that the story was an illusion that was strikingly different than the reality of her.

In a calmer voice, “I’m asking again, Shelly. If I’m so boring and useless in bed, why are you with me and not going with him. It sounded like if you’re available he wants a relationship and a commitment with you. Why are you still here?”

“Honey, look there are areas that Tom excels in. Like being fun and being a sex god. There are areas you excel in. You’re very loving. You always put me first. You’re a great provider. You have a good job that my girlfriends are jealous of and wished their husbands were more like you. You have your areas, and Tom has his areas. I want you both. I don’t want him instead of you, and I don’t want you instead of him, ok. I WANT YOU BOTH. Why is that so hard for you to understand?”

“What does he do?”

Shelly mumbled something really fast. So, I asked her to repeat herself.

“He’s a delivery guy.”

“Ahh, I’m starting to finally see the big picture here.”

She smiled at this hopefully, put her hands on her hips simultaneously crooking down the left hip, and tilted her head sideways like it’s about time I got it. God who is this woman.

I went into the walk-in closet and grabbed a suitcase. Put it on the bed and started packing up my shit.

“What do you think you’re doing, Danny?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? You won’t leave so I’m leaving. You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going to put up with you spending my money, and then going off and fucking him. Have you fucking lost your mind or were you always this dumb? I’m leaving and will be seeing a lawyer and divorcing your cheating ass from here to Sunday.”

“You’re not going anywhere, Danny. And nobody is getting a divorce. You even try for a divorce and I’ll take you for everything you got and leave you penniless little man. And you’ll be paying me alimony for the rest of your life. So, you’ll still be paying me and I’ll still be fucking Tom. Except you won’t get any pussy. So how is any of that any good for you?”

God, why are the stupid and uneducated the surest about what they think they know.

“Shelly, you forget that I’m a CPA. I’ve had a lot of clients go through a divorce over the years and I’ve dealt with how that’s affected them financially. You work part time so I’ll have to pay you some alimony for a couple of years or so, but the judge is going to tell your lazy ass to get a full-time job. And yeah, we’ll split up what we have, but that’s not much because you go through money like beer goes through a kidney. But after that you’ll be stuck with the shit money you make and the little big dick brings home on his paychecks.

“So, don’t make any threats about shit you know nothing about. Go fuck yourself.“

I finished packing and left the house. I got myself a room at an extended stay. I was angry and an emotional mess.

Looking Back At What Went Wrong ... Putting Together A One Year Plan

I called in sick the next day. My stomach had gotten better, but my soul was now very sick. Luckily it was Friday with the weekend ahead of me. Another lucky break was that it was October. The tax extension season now over, this was the slowest time of the year for me. By December we would start gearing up for the new tax season, with the first four months of the year being the busiest in my line of work.

I found a little bar close to the motel I was staying at. I was feeling extremely sorry for myself. The more I drank, the more I pictured Shelly and her big dicked paramour fucking on our bed. Then they both turn to me and make fun of me while they kept on fucking. I didn’t need a wild imagination to do that. It was fairly close to the reality that I had witnessed.

I felt like a complete loser with nothing to offer to the world, especially to a woman. Shelly had told me that I was useless in bed. But to me, and I guess to any guy, that translated to being useless period. My bartender was a guy named Matt. He was a small man, maybe an inch or two shorter than my 5’8.

At first, he patiently listened to my tale of woe, which was very helpful. However, he stopped being helpful when he went from being a listener to being an advisor. He said that guys like us needed to accept our situation. We didn’t have that much going for us. We needed to accept our shortcomings, and accept living life as a cuckold.

That I would never find another woman like Shelly again. And even if I got lucky and did find someone as good as her, she would do the same thing to me anyway. So, I might as well save myself a lot of grief and crawl back to Shelly, beg for her forgiveness, lick her ass, and hope that she would take me back. He repeatedly put a lot of emphasis on “licking her ass.” Seemed to be some kind of fetish for him.

He told me about his story. Apparently, he had a background in psychology, but preferred working as a bartender instead. He said that he preferred using what he had learned in his psych classes every day with his patrons.

He told me that the same thing had happened to him. His wife was cheating on him, but that he wasn’t lucky like me. One day he went home and his wife told him that she was divorcing him to marry her lover, and for him to get out of the house.

So that I was lucky that my wife still wanted me. That I was being an ungrateful bastard for looking a gift horse in the mouth. That I was looking at this all wrong. There is a lot of pleasure in the psychological and emotional pain my wife was bestowing on me. That I should crawl back and beg her to take me back and allow me the privilege to eat the cream pies her stud was leaving inside of her. And yes, he did bring up licking her ass once again.

Matt was a great deal of help. Though, just not quite in the way he intended. I went from feeling sorry for myself to getting angry. This guy was pathetic. He had experienced a major trauma in his life and his conclusion was to accept and incorporate it into a lifestyle. Like a woman who was raped, ends up fantasizing and searching for it. A weird psychological phenomenon of compensating and trying to try to come to terms with and take control of a major phobia. Instead of having the courage to fight that fear, he wanted me to completely own it and incorporating it into my life. I didn’t want to be that. That’s not the future I wanted for myself.

And what he was telling me was no different than a battered wife coming to a friend for advice only to be told that she didn’t deserve any better than to be a victim all her life. That she should make the most of it and enjoy the physical and psychological beatings her abuser was so graciously bestowing upon her.

If my only choices were between a life of loneliness on my own and a life of cuckoldry eating another man’s cream pies, both literally and figuratively, I would choose a life of loneliness where at least I can keep my head up high and look myself in the mirror without having to throw up.

I had a lot to think about, and the answer was not going to come from a bottle. And it certainly was not going to come from Matt. I realized the answers had to come from inside of me. I had to first figure out how I got here, and then figure out the future I wanted and how I can get there.

How I Got Here

The first time I saw Shelly was in the second period of the first day of the seventh grade. And it was infatuation at first sight. She had a bubbly extrovert personality, to my shy introvert one. She was also very pretty. And the new teenage body I was sporting, that came with the deluxe testosterone package, took notice of the little boobs that were poking out of her sweater, and the hips that were just taking form. She would grow up to sport a couple of D’s, and she had curves that would have made Marilyn Monroe envious.

I was too shy to go after Shelly, but we lived on the same street. We often found ourselves walking home from school taking the same path. We never walked together, or spoke more than a couple of words in class every now and then.

One day, midway through the eighth grade, I was walking about 20 to 30 feet behind her, on our way home, when a car drove into the driveway of the house just ahead of Shelly. He stopped short, blocking the sidewalk in front of her. I saw a middle-aged man talking to her through the passenger window. She kept shaking her head no to whatever he was saying.

Then as she went around the back of the car to continue walking home, the man opened the passenger door wide, jumped out and grabbed Shelly. He started pushing her in through the driver side door towards the front passenger seat. Shelly was screaming and resisting the best she could, but with his overpowering size and strength he was easily winning the battle.

By this time, I was almost up to the car myself. I dropped my lunchbox and backpack and ran around the car. I repeatedly hit the man in the back, screaming at him to let her go. He swung back, punching me in the face, which knocked me to the ground. I was hurting and shook up, but I grabbed on to his right ankle and wrapped my arms around it, tucking it between my shoulder and neck. I was trying my best to keep him from getting into the car behind Shelly and I yelled out, “Run Shelly, run!”

He pivoted his body fully around, pulled his left leg back, and kicked me in my upper body with his left foot. He achieved his goal of forcing my arms to let go of his leg. But I had achieved my goal as well. Shelly had taken advantage of his momentary distraction and had jumped out of the car to make her escape. By this point people were starting to come out of their houses wondering what all the commotion was about. With the prize lost and concerned neighbors coming out of their houses, he jumped into his car, backed up and sped away.

An alert neighbor had been cognizant enough to memorize his license plate number. A short time later he was captured. The police were able to link him to six abductions, rapes, tortures and murders of young girls. Last I heard he was still on death row awaiting his execution.

I didn’t go to school the next few days. I had a busted nose and bruised ribs. The emergency room patched up and bandaged my nose and ribs.

A couple of evenings after the incident, there was a knock on the front door of the apartment my mom and I shared. I opened it to find Shelly standing there, with a tall woman and a big man, who I found out later were her parents, standing right behind her. To make a long story short, they were there to thank me for what I had done. Her mother gave me a long tight hug with a tear running down her face. Her father shook my hand telling me what a stand-up young man I was. He then pulled me in for a tight hug of his own, enveloping me in his large frame.

After that day Shelly and I walked to and from school together. Even though she lived further away from school, I would walk over to her home every morning, and we’d walk to school together. And then I would return her back to her front door every afternoon.

But once we got to school, we went our separate ways, and hung out in two different groups. Shelly ran with the cool kids. I hung out with the geeks. I wasn’t necessarily awkward or weird looking. I was just more interested in the intellectual side of things. I was raised by a single mother who struggled every day to make ends meet for us. It was very important for her that I make something of myself. That I don’t end up struggling like her to make a living. So, I took school and getting good grades extremely seriously. Plus, I was no jock. Shelly liked the jocks.

Through the rest of junior high school and high school I watched Shelly date one jock after another. I should have known from back then that I wasn’t her type, but it didn’t keep me from desperately wanting her. We hung out together after school occasionally, and even made out a couple of times. But I wasn’t the one that got her cherry, and I never got anywhere past first base throughout high school.

However, I was the one that she would vent to about the jocks she dated. How they were all selfish, and that they were only interested in themselves and sports. Only if they were more sensitive like me, and that they listened to her like I did. How she wished that they were more like me. But when I would ask her the obvious, why doesn’t she date me instead. She would just smile at that and change the subject.

I got 97 percentile on the math section of the SAT and 86 percentile on the language portion. I got accepted to every university I applied to. But I ended up going to the nearby state university. That way I could continue to live at home and keep things cheaper. Between the scholarships, the financial aid and student loans, I was able to pay for everything myself without burdening my mom (my father had abandoned us when I was only three). And the part-time jobs gave me some spending money.

With no Shelly to pine after and wait around for, I dated several girls in college, and I had one long term relationship that lasted ten months. Thinking back on those relationships I had a major epiphany. I had sex with four girls before Shelly, and three out of the four the sex was much more satisfactory than with Shelly.

I decided to stay at the same university to get my MBA. It was the second highest ranked MBA program in the state, so I didn’t lose much by not attending a school further away. In my second and final year of the MBA program, Shelly was at my door once more, but this time on her own.

I asked her inside and we talked for a few minutes reminiscing about our past and discussing what we’ve been up to since graduating high school. She had kept tabs on me from mutual friends, and was aware about the university I was attending and that I was in their MBA program. We made a date for that Friday night, and that turned into more follow up dates. We got engaged 7 months later and got married a half a year after that.

I got on my laptop and looked up penis sizes. According to the charts I was right in the average range in both girth and length. I remembered all four girls I dated in college and how their pussies fit nicely around my penis. How tight their, warm and wet, pussies felt around my dick. How passionately they reacted when I had my dick inside of them. That was totally not the experience I had with Shelly. Not even the very first time.

That was epiphany number two. I didn’t have a small penis. I had a normal, average one that fit just fine with most girls. The problem wasn’t me. The problem was Shelly. She had a huge pussy. She had a cave for a cunt.

I remembered even the first time I fucked her I realized something was different. That she was too loose, but I was too infatuated with her. She had been the prize I had always wanted so I never paid much attention to it. And then in the ensuing years I didn’t think of it at all. Her cunt became my normal.

I loved her and I thought we had found other ways to satisfy ourselves. Most of the time I didn’t even cum from intercourse with her. More often than not I had to bring myself to completion using my own hand.

I almost always spent a great deal of time playing with her body and giving her oral before sticking my dick in. And she almost always had an orgasm or two from that. However, a large, loose, sopping wet cunt didn’t provide much friction for my average sized penis. Neither one of us was getting that much from the fucking.

I gave Shelly a lot of oral, before and after intercourse, but her reciprocation had ended before the end of the first year of our marriage. I never even paid much attention to it. I just figured she didn’t like giving blowjobs and I just went along with it. I loved her and I didn’t want to push her into doing something she didn’t enjoy doing.