Who Owns Paige?

by Just Plain Bob

Copyright© 2011 by Just Plain Bob

Sex Story: He was given a choice.

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Heterosexual   Cheating   .

Paige and I have been married for a little over twenty-five years. We are both in our mid-forties and we both work. Paige went back to work when our kids grew up more because she needed something to do than because we needed the money. We belong to the Fraternal Order Of Eagles; I bowl on Thursday nights, Paige has a woman's garden club meeting on Tuesdays and we play cards with some friends once every couple of weeks. On weekends Paige always seems to want the grand babies over so she can spoil them rotten. In short, a nice middle-aged, middle class couple that nothing exciting ever happens to. Or so it seemed.

Paige may have been a slut all of her life and just didn't know it, but when the slut in her surfaced it came on like gangbusters. What was most surprising though was that for years I didn't know about it and then when I did find out, it turned out that in the end, I didn't care.

Our youngest son had just moved out and it didn't take us long to find out that Paige needed to find something to do or she was going to go crazy. She started to read the want ads and she went out looking, but there wasn't much out there in the job market for a woman whose skills for the last twenty years had consisted of child rearing and house keeping. It took her a while, but she finally found a job as a file clerk for a local electronics company. Paige has always been an organizer and she was naturally good at the job; so good that she ran herself out of work and her boss started looking for other things for her to do. Pretty soon she knew quite a bit about running the office and she became a jack of all trades, sort of like the bosses Girl Friday, and Alan (her boss) began using her for outside events.

There were always seminars being held, trade shows to set up and prepare for, customer open houses and the like. Two or three times a month there would be cocktail parties for this, that or the other and Paige got to where she was the "go to" girl when these events needed to be organized and arranged. As a result there were nights during the week that she would come home late and be dead on her feet and I would always run her a hot bath, give her a back rub and try and help her relax after a long, hard day. The years went by and life seemed to be good; Paige and I were happy with our jobs and with our lives in general and then one day late in June I found out that Paige had a secret.

There was a trade show at the Sheraton that was running for two days. Paige had spent the better part of a week setting it up and getting it ready. At the end of the first day she had come home whipped, really dragging, and I had offered to run her a bath and give her a back rub. She told me that she would pass on it that night, "I'm really beat honey and I'm going straight to bed. I need the rest because tomorrow is going to be a very long day for me." She went up to bed leaving me in the living room feeling, for lack of a better word, somewhat strange. I didn't know what it was, but something was different, not necessarily right or wrong, but different. Paige just wasn't acting like herself. Nothing that I could put my finger on, just something was different.

The next morning at breakfast Paige told me that she would probably be late coming home and not to wait dinner for her. When she wasn't home by nine I went ahead and took my shower and got into bed. I slept pretty soundly and when I woke up the next morning I was surprised to find that Paige wasn't in the bed with me. She wasn't downstairs in the kitchen either and so I looked out the window to see if her car was in the drive - it wasn't. I wondered if maybe she'd had one drink too many at the cocktail party that follows the show and had decided to take a room rather than try to drive home. A call to the hotel showed that she wasn't registered. I called a couple of other area hotels and she wasn't registered at them either. I was just about to call the police and see if she had been in an accident when her car pulled into the driveway. I stood in the kitchen and looked out the window and waited for her to come in the house, but Paige just sat in the car. I waited five minutes and when she didn't get out of the car I went outside to see what was going on. She was sitting in the car crying and when she saw me coming she locked the car doors. I tried to get her to let me in, but she wouldn't and I wasn't going to stand in the driveway and create a scene for the neighbors to see so I turned and went back into the house, called work and told them I had a family emergency and then I got a cup of coffee and sat down to wait.

It was just a little over a half an hour before she came into the house. She walked into the kitchen and with one look I knew she had been fucked by some one else and rather soundly from the looks of her. She stood there looking at me, tears running down her face, and then she turned and left the room. Normally I tried to comfort her when she cried. Normally I would have rushed up to her, taken her in my arms and asked where she had been and was she all right, but normally she didn't come home with dried cum in her hair and with cum stains and runs on her nylons. Then there was the fact she had been gone all night and had obviously held off coming home until she thought I'd gone to work and wouldn't see what she looked like. The last time I had seen a woman who liked like that was in my second year of college when a bunch of us had gang fucked the girl friend of another guy at a party.

One of my virtues, although in this case it may have been a fault, is that I am slow to anger and I sat in the kitchen and thought about what Paige's appearance meant. Oh, it was obvious what she had been doing, but for how long? Since she had gone back to work? Since she had become the party coordinator or was that night the first time? Or had she been doing it our entire marriage? Other thoughts: Why had she done it? Had I somehow driven her to it and if it had been going on for a while how had she kept me from finding out? I wasn't going to get any answers sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee, but should I confront her now, or wait until later. Waiting would give the anger time to build, but would give Paige time to compose herself. If I went up there now I would be somewhat calm, but she would be crying and possibly hysterical. I heard the shower start to run and decided I would give her time to clean up. I would go up fifteen minutes after the shower stopped.

She was sitting on the bed in a robe when I went into the room. There were no chairs so I sat down on the floor and leaned my back against the wall and waited for Paige to say something. She couldn't meet my eyes and for several minutes there was silence in the room and then she said, "So now you know."

"Now I know what?"

"You saw me. Are you telling me you couldn't figure it out?"

"Oh I figured out pretty quick that you had been fucked by some one and probably by more than just one, but I don't know why, how, who, where, when, how often, how long and God knows how much else."

She still couldn't look at me, "The how long is since three months after I started my job. The why is because I'm a slut and I'm hung up on a large penis. The who is my boss Alan and how often, where and when is whenever and wherever we can and whoever he tells me to do."

"What you are telling me is that you are pretty much the company whore."

She stared down at her lap, "Pretty much."

I should have been mad enough to scream, holler, rip and tear after hearing what she had just confessed to, but for some reason I wasn't. In fact I was feeling almost indifferent. As I uncoiled from the floor and stood up I said, "Too bad. You should have told me sooner. I could have used a good whore to satisfy some of my customers" and I left the room. I went back downstairs, grabbed a tie and my suit coat and went on into work.

I didn't get a whole lot done. I just sat in my office, stared out the window and pondered on the worth of a twenty-five year marriage. I'd always thought it a worthwhile thing, but I guessed that it must have been pretty much one sided because Paige sure hadn't valued it. I thought about what she had told me, especially about being a slut for a big penis (funny thing about Paige - she never used the words 'cock' or dick'). I'd never known that about her. Mine isn't all that huge, but given what I'd seen in the showers after gym class and what I'd seen in the Army I considered myself at least average. And I'd always thought we had a better than average sex life for a couple our age. We didn't follow a schedule, like only on Tuesday and Friday, and the frequency did vary, but if you were to take a monthly average it would come pretty close to four times a week with actual couplings being two and sometimes three times on those nights. But the one thing I really couldn't get a grip on was the fact that she was so hung up on a big dick that she could be told to go and fuck strangers and that she would do it. I called my lawyer and made an appointment to see him. He didn't do divorces, but I was sure he could give me a good recommendation.

I was surprised to find Paige there when I got home that night. I don't know why, but I thought that she would be gone. Not necessarily moved out, but wanting to avoid me. I was even more surprised to find her fixing dinner. It was almost like she had decided that this morning had never happened. She had wine on the table with the meal and we killed one bottle while we ate in silence. When she got up and opened the second bottle I asked, "What's this all about?"

"It is an attempt on my part to get you in a mellow enough mood that you will sit and listen to me while I try and save my marriage."

"Why would you want to do that? I don't have a big dick as you well know."

Like I said, Paige uses the word penis, never cock or dick. So when she said, "This isn't about cock size, this is about love" she caught my attention.

"What I have been doing is wrong, but I can't help it. I'm addicted to Alan's cock. I'm so addicted that I do almost everything he tells me to do just so I can keep him fucking me. But I don't love Alan - he is an obnoxious asshole and except for when he's fucking me I can barely stand him. I love you and I've never loved anyone else but you. I love being married to you and I love the way you love me and if all possible I want to find some way to hang onto it. I'm not stupid; I know that what I've done has hurt you, but I'm hoping that you loved me enough to at least try and see if we can't work something out that will keep us together."

"You going to stop seeing him?"


"Then I don't see what we have to talk about."

"We have to talk about us, not about him."

"You've spent twenty-five years with me and you don't know me well enough by now that you think you can talk me into sharing you with another man? Hell, from what you've said I wouldn't be sharing you with another man, I'd be sharing you with herds of them."

"So? You have been doing it for years now and it hasn't hurt you or our relationship."

"But I didn't know then."

"So now you know, so what? Have you seen any less love and affection from me since I went to work? Nothing has changed between us, nothing!"

"It has changed the way I look at you now. I don't see you as a wife and mother anymore. When I look at you now all I see is an unfaithful whore."

She gave me a long look and then she sighed, "Well, at least I tried. I'm sorry that you can't see that what I did hadn't hurt us one little bit until this morning" and she put down her wineglass and left the room. I sat there twirling my wineglass and looking down into the ruby red liquid for a long time after she was gone.

I slept on the couch that night and I was awakened the next morning by Paige kissing me on the forehead as she left for work. In my partially asleep state I thought I heard her say, "I love you baby and I'm sorry" but it could have been my imagination. It was another long day at work and for all the time I spent at work I didn't get much accomplished. I spent most of my time thinking about Paige and what she'd said. Regardless of what she had done she was right in that I had not seen any noticeable loss of love or affection since she had gone to work, but my wife as a slut for some asshole with a big cock, how was I supposed to handle that? And what the hell was wrong with Paige that she could expect me to handle it and to live with it? It just did not make any sense. The other side of the coin was how do I turn my back on twenty-five years of a great marriage? For that matter if I walked away from Paige where would I find some one else who could be as perfect a fit for me? The more I thought about it the more confused I became. In the end the only decision I made that day was to cancel my appointment with the lawyer.

Paige wasn't home when I got home and I didn't really know what that meant. Except for the nights of trade shows, seminars and cocktail parties she always beat me home. She always told me ahead of time when she had them scheduled and except for the one two days previous she hadn't mentioned any others. She finally got home around eight o'clock and went straight upstairs to the bedroom. I almost followed her, but at the last second I didn't. The first thing I would have said was, "Where have you been?" and things would have gone downhill from there. And besides, given what I now knew about what she had been doing, did I really want to know?

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