It was Sunday afternoon and I was doing yard work while I waited for my wife, Margie, to return from her work seminar in Denver. She had ridden to the airport with a coworker and was due back any time. Margie was a chemist. She worked for a large pharmaceutical company. She very seldom traveled for her work, but this was one trip she couldn't avoid.
The company has been working on a weight loss pill for years and Margie was deeply involved in the project. The company was flying everyone even remotely connected with the project into Denver to brainstorm for a few days. It seemed a competitor was rumored to be already testing a similar project. Competition is intense in the drug industry. One patent can be worth billions, so the powers that be were cracking the whip.
I saw the car pull into the drive and watched Margie get out and head for the house. I pulled the lawn mower into the garage and parked it. I had missed Margie and was eager to see her, and maybe even a little more than just see her. I went into the kitchen.
"Hey, traveling girl! How about a hug?" I asked as I walked toward Margie with my arms spread. "I missed that hot body of yours!"
"Sit down, Jim. We have to talk," Margie stated calmly. "There are a few things we need to discuss."
This wasn't what I had expected. Margie was usually all hugs and kisses after we'd been apart for a few days. She was a scientist, but once her motor got running, she was a dynamo. She now acted more like she was transferring data or something.
"What's up, Darling?" I asked nervously. "Did I leave the kitchen a mess? I was going to take the garbage out, really. I just forgot it, but I'll take care of it right now."
"Jim, this has nothing to do with the house or anything you did," responded Margie. "There's no easy way to tell you this, so I'm just going to give it to you straight. We need to get a divorce."
My mouth went dry and my heart started beating like crazy. I looked at Margie to see if it was a joke, but she never joked about anything like that. She was deadly serious. Still, I had to hope.
"You're kidding me, right? I'm not sure what you're angry about, but I can fix it if you tell me what I did, Margie. I sure don't want a divorce. I'm stunned that you would suggest it. What's wrong?" I demanded.
"You are a strong, proud man, Jim. You deserve to be with someone that is devoted and loyal to you. Anything less would be unfair to you and would never work. You'll be better off without me. It's because I love you so much that we must divorce," she concluded.
"Do you realize that you are making no sense, Margie? For a scientist, your logic is pretty weird. If you love me so much, why don't we stay married for another 30 years, or at least until I kick the bucket," I reasoned. "It's a good thing when a wife loves her husband, Darling!"
"It is if she remembers how much she loves him and remains faithful to him," agreed Margie as I suddenly felt my stomach turn. "Jim, I slept with Boyd Wilkins last night."
Now I really felt ill. I knew Boyd. He worked with Margie and always seemed like a nice guy. At least before he tapped my wife! I was pretty sure he was married and had some children, and they were younger than our two kids in college. Were they both going to get divorced so they could be together? How come I never saw it coming? Had I buried my head in the sand? Was I the king of denial?
"Do you love him, Margie? Is that what this is all about? You and Boyd? You're tossing me to curb because of him? Was the sex that incredible?" I demanded as I conjured visions of the balding, and somewhat pudgy, Boyd Wilkins possessing some kind of super stud abilities.
"I really don't even remember it, Jim. I certainly don't love Boyd. Right now just the thought of him makes me physically ill," Margie admitted. "It's done, however, and it can't be undone. I woke up this morning naked with Boyd sleeping next to me and I could tell that I had sex at some point. I wouldn't accept that behavior from you and I sure as hell won't accept it from myself. You deserve better, much better!"
"I'm having just a little trouble following you, Margie. If you don't love the guy, if he doesn't even turn you on, why did you sleep with him? Why do you want to leave me?" I asked in an effort to clear my confusion.
"I don't exactly want to leave you, Jim. I want you to have the best possible chance at happiness and that dictates that we separate. You've heard that old saw, once a cheater, always a cheater. You can't trust me. I can't even trust me, so we need to divorce," stated Margie.
"Isn't this a bit drastic, at least spur of the moment?" I suggested. "Could you explain every thing to me so I can understand your decision, at least?"
"A whole bunch of us got together yesterday afternoon for a little relaxation. It was like a party to celebrate the end of three pretty grueling days of brainstorming. It should be called blame storming! We made very little progress, except we agreed everything was someone else's fault. You know that I never drink unless you're with me, Jim. I'm just not capable of intelligent, rational thought after several drinks. I proved that again, yesterday," Margie sobbed as she finally began to lose her scientific demeanor and allow her emotions to surface.
"We carried on for several hours. I really don't remember when it was over, or how I got to my room. When I woke up this morning, my pussy had been used and Boyd was snoring next to me. I screamed and he woke up," continued Margie. "He was even more horrified than I was. He has three children in high school and a wife he adores."
I listened, but I had to wonder about Boyd. How bad does a guy feel when he wakes up next to an attractive woman? Most guys are able to deal with that difficult situation.
"He looked at me, and then at his own nakedness. Then he ran into the bathroom and vomited. It wasn't very flattering. I have to admit that. I heard him crying and calling his wife's name over and over. He's an emotional wreck today."
Maybe these real smart types are different. Seeing Margie nude sure isn't something to make a man pray to the porcelain gods! What a hell of a mess she had gotten us into. I began to transfer my fear of losing Margie into anger at her betrayal.
"Well, that's just great, Margie. You go away without me for the first time in two years and you get your brains fucked out by some super nerd. You tell me you don't remember it at all, and the next morning the very thought of slipping you the salami made him physically ill. Is that about it?" I asked viciously.
"You've pretty well summed up the fucked-up mess I made out of our marriage, Jim. I take full responsibility for it. I'll stay with my sister until I can find a place of my own. If you want to smack me around before I leave, I'm quite willing to go along with it," cried Margie. "I'll pack a few things and leave right away."
Goddamn! What does a guy do when his wife admits cheating and wants to punish herself, as much or more, than the husband wants to punish her? It was like the dentist in "The Little Shop of Horrors". How much pleasure can a sadist get hurting a masochist? I wanted to be the one deciding she had to leave. I wanted to be the indignant spouse, throwing insults and curses at her for cheating. She denied me that therapy by being so brutally honest about her stupidity. I just sat at the table trying to make sense of everything.
It was less than ten minutes later when Margie returned with two suitcases. I could tell she had been crying, but she still wasn't going to cut herself any slack.
"Since I'm the one that ruined the marriage, I'll move out, Jim. I won't ask for much in the divorce. I'd like to have half the savings and whatever keepsakes my family has given us over the years. You can accuse me of infidelity and I won't fight it. I would ask that you think about it first because you'll destroy Boyd's life if you do. He probably deserves it as much as I do, but his wife and kids don't," reasoned Margie. "He said he was going to try to keep it from his wife and hope she never finds out. That's a brilliant scientific mind at work."
I stood up and looked into Margie's eyes. She had been crying and she looked terrible. This was taking its toll on her as well. Why did she have to do it?
"This is your last chance to kick the crap out of me, Jim. I have it coming, but I won't allow it after today. I have to start my new life tomorrow. You'll feel better if you give me a black eye or something. I think I'd feel better, too. No woman should ever do such a horrible thing to a loyal, loving husband, as I did to you."
"Goddamn it, Margie," I growled. "I'm mad as hell, so you'd better not even suggest it. I feel like beating the shit out of you right now!"
"See, Jim. You prove my point. You're a man, not some spineless pussy that hits women, regardless of the provocation. You're able to do the right thing, even under a great deal of stress. I fucked up the first chance I got. You deserve better, Jim. You deserve a lot better," concluded Margie.
I took the heavier bag from her hand and carried it out to her car and placed it in the trunk. She put her second bag in and I slammed the lid down. Margie touched my face with her fingertips for a second. Then she got into the car and drove away, leaving me standing in the garage, blubbering like a baby.
I couldn't sleep more than a few minutes at a time. I was up before the sun and was at work nearly an hour early. I went to work because I had to do something. The problem was, I couldn't concentrate and hardly accomplished anything.
I went home to an empty house and my heart ached. I had been alone while Margie was in Denver, but it was different. I knew she was coming back so I was relaxed and content. Now that I knew Margie wasn't coming home, I was depressed and pensive. What had happened to my life? What the hell could I do to get it back on track? I chewed on these questions but couldn't begin to answer them.
Around seven, the doorbell rang. I didn't want company and I considered staying in the kitchen until whoever it was gave up and left. Then I realized how pathetic I was acting, so I opened the door. Standing on the stoop was Margie's sister, Judy.
"Could I come in and get some of Margie's things?" she asked softly. "Margie didn't plan very well and forgot some clothes and toiletries that she needs. Are you okay, Jim?"
Judy was Margie's younger sister and I had always liked her. We had an easy friendship. I had always teased Margie that if anything ever happened to her, I'd be all over Judy in a New York minute. She had never been married although she had several long-term relationships over the past twenty years. She must have seen that I was coming unraveled.
"No, Judy, I'm not okay," I answered. "My wife of 24 years goes away for three days and winds up in bed with some goddamn home-wrecking pinhead. Then she comes home and tells me she's divorcing me because it's the best thing for me. How the hell can I be okay?"
By the time I finished my rant, I had tears trickling down my cheeks. I felt really embarrassed and turned and walked back into the kitchen and sat down with my head in my hands, trying to regain my composure.
Judy came up behind me and gently rubbed my shoulders. Neither of us spoke for a few minutes. The clock sounded really loud as the silence dragged on. Finally, Judy moved around the table and sat across from me.
"Jim, I don't know what to say to you," she began. "Margie showed up yesterday in tears and told me she had been unfaithful to you. I thought you had thrown her out. Then, after what seemed to take forever, I got the story from her. If I didn't know my sister, I wouldn't believe anyone could do what she did."
"Yeah, she's a pip, alright," I managed. "Is she going to be with that Boyd now? Is that what this is all about? Are they going to move in together?"
"Good God, no!" exclaimed Judy. "She went and quit her job today, Jim. She didn't want to ever have another thing to do with that geek. She doesn't have a lover, or even a close male friend, except for you. She just feels that what she has done is so horrible, so unforgivable; that she cannot stay married to you. It's hard to believe, but it seems to be true."
"That damn Boyd is still married! He didn't confess to his wife. She's happier than a pig in shit right now. They probably had "welcome home sex" like I was hoping for," I whined. "Why did she have to rub my nose in her fucking affair? Why didn't she try to cover it up out of consideration for me?"
"This is becoming surreal, Jim," observed Judy. "My sister cheats on you, just one time, because she had way too much to drink. You had no way of knowing it, but her sense of outrage at her own actions were so great that she tells you about it immediately. Now you bitch that she didn't keep it a secret and let you go on thinking she was a faithful wife. Do you see how weird this all is?"
"What's weird about me not wanting my nose rubbed in my wife's affairs?" I demanded. "Your goddamn sister is weird, not me!"
"Well, from where I'm sitting, you both seem pretty damn weird to me. She should have never told you about it. I told her that. She should have come home and been the best wife you could imagine, and hoped you'd never find out," Judy replied. "On the other hand, you should have been glad learn she's a cheating bitch. If you had found out six months down the road, you would've tossed her ass out so fast her head would spin. She saved you the pain and embarrassment of going through that scene."
"Sure, she was thinking of me. That's why she fucked that egghead, wasn't it?" I shot back.
"No, Jim, she wasn't thinking at all when she did that terrible thing. Once she was able to think, she thought about you and what she should do for you. She's convinced that the best thing is to remove her self from your life," stated Judy. "She had too much respect for you to make you an unknowing cuckold, a man whose wife sleeps with other men and has no respect for her husband. It's like she wants you to have the best of everything and she doesn't feel that she qualifies."
"Well, she seems to be right about that," I agreed. "I don't deserve a cheating slut wife. I've always been faithful to her, even when I had to travel alone. I should have a wife that practically worships me. I work hard and stay sober. I worked my ass off to make this house what she wanted, and to make her and the kids comfortable! How does she repay me for all my sweat and toil?"
"Jim, that's almost exactly what she told me! There is no argument here. You both agree that she shouldn't have done what she did and that you deserve better. That's why she feels she has to divorce you. Margie thinks she ruined your life and caused you to waste too many years already on her cheating ass."
"Goddamn it, Judy!" I flared. "She's your sister. Why don't you try referring to her a bit more kindly? You're making her out to be a whore or something. We both know that isn't true."
"You two are the strangest pair of divorcing spouses I've ever seen, you know that!" Judy threw back at me. "She won't let me speak poorly of you and now you're sticking up for her. What the hell is wrong with you both?"
"Just because we're civilized doesn't make us an oddity," I pointed out. "There's no reason to call the mother of my kids nasty names. I don't like it, okay? What did you say about me that annoyed her, anyway?"
"Oh, the usual consolation stuff. I told her she'd probably find a man that understood her one mistake and could get past it. I told her she could find a man that would treat her better, have a better income, be a better lover, and a better golf partner for her couples league," replied Judy.
"Son of a bitch! You told her that?" I asked angrily. "We won our league two out of the last four years! I had one of the lowest handicaps they've ever seen. Why the hell are you poisoning her with shit like that?"
"There you go again," complained Judy. "That's exactly what Margie said. She even added some bullshit about you how you were a great lover and she could never find anyone better. She said that you were very good at your job and provided for the family better than she could have ever hoped for. She even tried to tell me that you were the kindest, most loving man she had ever known, and any man she had ever met paled in comparison to you."
"She said all that about me? I guess she does appreciate some of the stuff I've done around here. She did her share, though," I added grudgingly. "She picked all the colors, the furniture, the floors and the wall coverings... shit! She decorated the whole house. If it had been up to me, we'd be living in that little ranch house down on Elm Street. She's the one that knew better than to settle for less. Now this place is worth a good buck."
"It's a beautiful house, Jim," admitted Judy. "I was thinking that as long as Margie needs a place to stay, we might be able to make a little trade, so to speak."
"What the hell are you talking about, Judy?" I asked. "This house is worth double what yours is. We sure don't want to trade with you!"
"You didn't let me finish, Jim" Judy responded nonplussed. "Suppose Margie and I trade places? You've always had a thing for me. I could move in with you. Margie could stay at my place. I'd be very good to you and faithful as an old dog. My tits are bigger than Margie's and I've learned a few tricks over the years on how to please a man. You wouldn't be alone and Margie wouldn't have to look for an apartment or a house. Everybody wins."
I just sat there and starred at Judy. Could all this weird shit be happening? How come I never noticed what a sick bunch of puppies made up Margie's family?
"Are you kidding me? What the hell is wrong with you? Did I say I wanted bigger tits? Then everything would be fine? Margie's tits are so much better than yours that's its not even funny!" I laughed cruelly. "I'm sure as hell not going to trade down! What is wrong with you?"
"It seems like a good idea to me, Jim. Margie went on for hours over what a great husband and friend and lover you are. As long as you're dumping her whoring ass, why not have me take her place? You have no idea how good the sex with me can be!" bragged Judy.
"Do you think that sex is all there is to a relationship? Could you ever raise two great kids while working full time? Do you think you could ever keep this house as good as Margie while earning the kind of money she used to make?" I scoffed. "Shit, Margie can satisfy me every which way while making a shopping list in her head. You have no idea what she does for me in bed, so don't assume you're better. Nobody is better than Margie!"
"I don't understand you, Jim. The whore cheated on you. You can't trust her and you know it! She's a slut that can't keep her legs closed!" Judy practically yelled. "You need a woman that will love you and that you can depend on and trust, not some whoring piece of trash."
"Goddamn it!" I roared. "Get your ass out the door before I throw you out! What the hell kind of sister are you? Margie would never say a bad word about you, and you've pulled some real boners over the years! If I ever hear you call her any of those derogatory names again, I'll slap your face, and I'd never strike a lady. Margie made one mistake. She's been the perfect wife for 22 years and one fuck-up doesn't mean she's a slut or a whore. She's got more class in one finger than you have in your whole pathetic body. Now get the hell out!"
I was furious! Somehow, even in my anger, I noticed that Judy didn't seem very frightened of me. I had just threatened her with bodily harm and I was livid. Judy just looked at me and nodded her head like she knew some secret about me. Maybe I had confirmed her suspicions that I was a miserable prick and a woman beater. I didn't care what she thought as long as she left.
She got to her feet and went out the door. I started pacing back and forth in the kitchen. I was so agitated I couldn't sit. I wondered what Margie would say if she ever knew what a backstabbing bitch her sister was. I never would have guessed it if I hadn't just witnessed the entire fiasco. I was pissed!
I had calmed down a lot, but I was still pacing half an hour later when the bell rang again. I felt my anger start to build again as I headed for the door. Judy had forgotten to get Margie's stuff and she was probably back to get them. I jerked the door open and saw Margie!
"Judy just told me that you threw her out of the house! I sent her over to get some of my things and you tossed her out? Is that what happened?" asked Margie but with less anger than I would have expected.
"No, I didn't. Well, I did throw her out," I admitted, "but she had it coming. It wasn't like that exactly."
Instinct was kicking back in. I had learned the hard way that I could never bad-mouth any of my in-laws to Margie. She was fiercely loyal to her family. She could bitch and complain about her relatives, but my ass was grass if I even so much as agreed with her observations. I worked to think of a reason for asking Judy to leave without revealing the vile names she had called Margie. I was having a hard time with it.
"Margie, she said some things that I didn't like and I was losing control. This whole thing has been hard on me and I'm under a lot of stress. I thought it best if she left before I said or did something I regretted," I answered weakly.
Margie looked so beautiful to me. Her clothes weren't new and her eyes looked dark, but she was a stunning woman. I tried to swallow the lump that kept plugging my throat as I waited for her to lower the boom on me. Seeing her again was painful for me.
"Did she call me a slut, Jim? Did she call me a whore?" demanded Margie. "Did she tell you that she'd sleep with you and give you great sex? Did she tell you she had better tits than I do?"
"Margie, I don't remember what all was said," I lied. "It might have been a little like that. I'm pretty hazy on the conversation because I was so upset."
"That's funny. Judy was able to tell me word for word what you said about me," revealed Margie. "She said you told her that I had class and that I had been the perfect wife for 22 years. You told her I was a wonderful wife and lover. You told her I did a great job with my career, the kids, and the house. You said all that about me, didn't you?"
"Well, is that so wrong? I meant it all, too. I don't care how you try to convince me otherwise, Margie. You've been a wonderful wife, way better than I could have dared hope those many years ago when I asked you to marry me. You've only messed up the one time. It was only once wasn't it?" I asked, practically begging Angie to tell me it only happened once.
"Yes, it happened once, and that is too often. I've been thinking and talking a lot with Judy since I left yesterday. I did you dirt, Jim. That is something I will never accept or excuse. Almost as bad, I denied you the right to decide what you wanted to do with my cheating ass. I was the one that screwed up and I tried to be the one to determine what the punishment should be.
"That was unfair, Jim. I realize that know. I don't expect you to forgive me. I can't forgive me. I do want you to tell me what you want to do about my stupid, unacceptable actions. It's your call, Jim. What do you want me to do? What do you want to do with me?" asked Margie with tears rolling down her cheeks.
"Now that's more like it! I'm the husband in this house and I'll decide what punishment is handed out. I want you to take off your skirt and panties and lay across my lap!" I declared. "I have decided what to do with your "cheating ass" as you called it.
"What did you say? You want me to remove my skirt and panties and lay across your lap?" she repeated.
When I was a kid, I always preferred a plain old ass whipping to a series of embarrassing talks about how my actions disappointed my parents and how sad I made them. As I got older, I received more lectures and fewer physical punishments. I came to realize that when the spankings were over, the debt was paid. That was so much easier to deal with than the guilt and embarrassment of psychological punishment, which had no actual official end. It just went on until the misdeed was forgotten. Margie wasn't going to forget her misdeed, so I decided to get it over with and move on.
Margie didn't need me to tell her what she did wrong. She didn't need to have the burden of her actions hanging over her head for the rest of our days together. She needed closure and so did I. It may sound cruel, but I believed it would actually be the kindest way to rectify the mess she had created. She needed me to forgive her and to somehow demonstrate that I did.
In our entire marriage, I had never even come close to striking Margie, regardless of how angry she made me. Another of the lessons I had learned growing up is that men never hit women. The difference here, I reasoned to myself, was that I wasn't angry. It was, therapeutically speaking, better than the alternatives.
"You just said that it was my call, Margie," I answered as I removed my belt from my pants and held it up for her to see. "You will be punished for your actions, as you should be. This is not an angry reaction. This is a corrective measure and you do have an option. You can accept your whipping as an errant wife should, or you can leave and we can get the divorce you seem to feel is necessary."
"Are you saying that you want to tan my hide as punishment for my indiscretion? Once you do that, you'll love me again? You'll keep me?" asked Margie in disbelief.
"That's exactly what I'm saying, except that I never stopped loving you, Margie. If you'll come over here and accept your medicine, I'll show you just how much I do love you," I promised.
Margie was a real firecracker in bed that night. She hugged me, she cried on me, she promised me undying love and devotion; she rubbed her sweet breasts in my face and against my chest. At least, she did that when she wasn't sucking my cock, or riding it! She had to be on top, of course, but in a few days, she'd be able to bear my weight again. We both looked forward to that.
