Incest/Taboo With a Little Help From my Friends

When I finished and went inside for a drink, the house was quiet. I looked for Linda and found her asleep on the sofa. I assumed she hadn't managed much rest the previous evening.

I washed up and went into the small room where we have our desktop computer. I turned it on and logged into Face Book. The first thing I saw was a message from a friend of mine from work. I didn't usually use Messenger, but I clicked on the icon.

"Jim, you should look at Jane Freeman's page. It's about you and Linda. I hope it's all bullshit," was the entire message. With a feeling of dread, I entered Jane's name in the search and found her immediately. I went to her homepage.

It only took me a few seconds to find the post to which my friend had referred. Jane had a rambling description of her evening at the swank 'Chez Pierre Restaurant' and the surprising turn of events. She never mentioned Linda, or Marc LaValliere by name, but that was just about the only thing she had omitted from her recount of the evening.

It seems that one of her female friends was approached by a famous football star while dining and was asked to dance. After a few dances, she excused herself to go to the ladies' room and never returned. Her friend's husband briefly searched for her until another friend of his wife's explained she had left with the famous athlete.

I decided I might dodge the bullet aimed for my heart since, after reading it twice, I saw that no names were mentioned. Then I read some of the replies. A woman whose name was unfamiliar to me commented that she had seen Linda Bennett dancing with Marc LaValliere for several dances. A bit later, she noticed Linda's husband was standing by his table alone. Linda was nowhere in sight, and neither was the famous Marc LaValliere.

That was all it took. Dozens of comments about Linda, Marc and me, or any combination thereof were quickly posted! I skimmed the comments and came to the conclusion that most of those posting had determined I was a cuck wimp. Linda was an easy lay. Marc, on the other hand, was a great tight end and a lucky bastard.

So much for Linda being able to trust her friends! I was disappointed, but not surprised in any way. People love to talk, and Linda had given her so-called friends plenty to talk about. Oddly, I felt worse about the names they were calling Linda than I did about my new nicknames. It was slightly easier, although far from pleasant, to be considered a wimp than to have my wife, the mother of my children, called a whore, a slut, a skank, or at times, all three.

I worked in marketing for a large company and knew a lot of the tricks on how to shine shit, but this was beyond anything I had ever encountered. How could I protect my wife and kids? Hell, should I even try? Linda had fucked more than a football player, namely our marriage. It was floundering in deep shit.

My boss at work had always preached that we need to think outside the box. I sat at the keyboard for half an hour before an idea began to take shape. It wasn't a solution so much as it was directing the conversation. Linda and I would suffer greatly, but why shouldn't we? Somehow, Linda had determined it was okay to fuck a complete stranger, albeit a famous one. Somehow I had given her the impression I would forgive her for doing it. Was she right? Could she shit all over me, humiliate me in such a horrible manner and then be forgiven? It seemed unlikely at the moment.

I decided to risk it all. Linda had no qualms about fucking the slick bastard and humiliating me, while seriously risking our marriage. Why was I being so timid? Hell, I was already pretty well fucked. In a divorce, she would get custody of the kids, alimony and child support, along with the house. I'd just get shit upon some more, but by the legal system this time.

There really was no reason I should worry about anything. My wife, her lawyer and the legal system would team up and become the perfect storm. I should consider anything short of winding up seriously injured, or dead, as a victory. I was well and truly fucked, so I tossed caution to the wind.

Basically, I had nothing left to protect, or to fight for. Linda had emasculated me in public. I was being called a fag cuck, so why not run with it? Let the chips, and the shit, fall where they may. I opened my page and began composing. It took me half an hour to list everything I wanted to say, but I felt I had pretty well covered things by the time I hit the 'enter' key.

It was Sunday and we always went to Linda's parents' for dinner. I was done showering and in the process of putting on clean clothes when Linda came into the bed room.

"Why didn't you wake me up? Now I have to rush or we'll be late for dinner," complained Linda as she began to undress.

"Since you fucked away most of last night while enjoying the best sex of your life, I thought you and your abused pussy could use the rest," I replied calmly. "Who gives a shit if we're late or not? Your mom loves you, so she'll forgive a slight transgression like being a few minutes late for dinner."

"I know she'll forgive me," retorted Linda. "The issue is why we should make her hold dinner for us if we don't have to. It's simply being considerate."

"Do you mean to tell me you think of yourself as considerate?" I snapped at Linda.

"I try to be. You're still upset about last night. You know I couldn't tell you I was leaving with Marc. You would have made a big scene and embarrassed yourself, along with me."

"So you sneaked out, leaving me to deal with the humiliation and embarrassment? You believe that was considerate?" I practically snarled.

"It was better than Marc laying a beating on you if you tried to stop me from leaving with him, so yes! It was considerate of me to not let you know my intentions. You'll get over it before long. It was just sex. You're the man I love. That's why I didn't want to see you get hurt," explained Linda with what I considered bizarre logic.

"Interesting," was my measured reply. "You think you saved me from being hurt when you went to his bed and fucked and sucked him all night? That was some sacrifice you made for me. I feel way better now."

"It wasn't a sacrifice and we both know it. It was something I had to do and you trying to stop me would have ruined that magic moment. I'll never see him again, but I'll always have great memories. It was a perfect night," concluded Linda.

I didn't speak to Linda on the ride to her parents' home. We picked up Emma and Tommie on the way. We were met with absolute silence when we entered Linda's parents' house.

"Mom? Is something wrong? Have you been crying?" asked Linda with concern as she hurried to her mother's side. "Is Dad okay?"

"I don't think he is," replied her mom. "I didn't expect you here tonight. I thought you would probably be going out with your boyfriend again."

"My boyfriend? What are you talking about?" demanded a suddenly irate Linda. "Did Jim talk to you about last night? He shouldn't have said anything."

"My friend, Brenda, told me about another friend's Facebook page where you were mentioned, quite often. It was all about you leaving Jim and spending the night with some basketball player," managed Linda's mom before breaking down completely.

"I don't know what anyone said, or wrote, but I never left Jim," asserted Linda. "We're still happily married, aren't we, Jim?"

"That might be a bit of an exaggeration," I admitted as Linda glared at me. "I would like to clarify that it was a football player, not a basketball player, and Linda was exceptionally happy this morning."

By this time our two kids were aware something was very wrong. Grandma was crying her eyes out and Mom was giving Dad the stink eye. Once Linda's stare left me and saw the sadness in the kids' faces, she went into Mom mode.

"We'll take the kids and go home, Mom. I'll call you during the week. Don't believe everything you hear, or read on Facebook. Jim and I are happily married and I certainly don't have any boyfriends. Let's go, kids."

It was a chilly ride home. Linda spent her time reassuring the kids that their parents were happy and everything was going well. By the time we got home, both Tommie and Emma seemed more relaxed.

Once she had heated up some leftovers, the kids had eaten and were finally in bed, Linda decided we needed to talk. She always believed the best defense was a good offense.

"Why did you tell Mom you weren't happy in our marriage? That just made her more anxious. What in hell did she read on Facebook? Who said I have a boyfriend?"

"I think she probably read Jane's Facebook page. The term several posters used was 'fuck buddy,' not boyfriend. Your mom was being polite."

"Jane posted about Marc and me making love? She'd never do that!" protested Linda.

"Technically, the post was about Marc fucking the shit out of you. The word 'love' never appeared."

"I turned my phone off last night and forgot to turn it back on," realized Linda. "I need to check my messages."

I knew the shit would be hitting the fan, so I found something to do in the kitchen as Linda turned her cell on. Over the next several minutes, I heard groans, curses and sobs from Linda as she caught up on her messages.

About ten minutes later, she slowly walked into the kitchen. Her eyes were red and puffy and her nose was running. She looked as miserable as I had ever seen her.

"I was surprised that Jane had posted about me leaving with Marc. I thought my friends respected me more than that. The thing that really hurts is the shit you posted on your page. How could you humiliate me like that? You have no idea how much that hurts."

"Actually, I do. You did the same thing to me about 24 hours ago."

"That wasn't intentional," protested Linda. "This is just your ego talking. I never wanted to embarrass you. That's why I sneaked out without making a scene."

"I'm sorry if my posts embarrassed or humiliated you. That certainly wasn't my intention. I was just caught up in the moment. You're the woman I love and want to spend my life with," I replied, but without sincerity.

"How could describing how great it was for you to have a wife who was fucked by Marc LaValliere not humiliate me, and you, for that matter?" demanded Linda.

"The cat was out of the bag, so I felt I needed to get ahead of the story. I didn't want to look like a man with a wife who would totally disrespect and humiliate him in public. I decided to play the willing cuckold rather than the betrayed husband. Cuckolds stay married, while betrayed husbands dump the cheating bitch wife as soon as possible," I explained.

"But describing how much I enjoyed Marc's bigger cock? How he wanted my ass? How I swallowed his cum, and how it was a little bitter?" shouted Linda. "Have you lost your mind? You made me look like a slut!"

"Why would you think that?" I asked. "How does that make you look like a slut?"

"You're shitting me, right?" demanded Linda angrily. "All those things are the definition of a slut, Asshole!"

"I'm a little confused. If those actions define a slut and you did them all, doesn't it follow that you must be a slut, especially since you did them with a man you had just met? What's the problem, exactly?"

"You really are a little man," snarled Linda. "Just leave me alone. You can sleep on the couch."

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, I sprinted for the stairs. I took them two at a time and raced into our bedroom. By the time Linda made an appearance, I was snuggled into bed with my eyes closed.

"I said you need to sleep on the couch!" stated Linda firmly.

"Fuck you, slut. This is my bed. I'll sleep right here."

"I'm not going to sleep on the couch, and don't call me a slut," insisted Linda as I opened an eye slightly just to be certain she wasn't carrying a weapon.

"I have to admit I was much more concerned about your wishes before Marc LaValliere fucked the shit out of you," I stated calmly. "I'm staying in my bed. You can sleep where you want, like you did last night."

Linda huffed, sobbed and sniffled as she prepared for bed. I hadn't slept much the previous night, so I fell into a deep sleep while she was going through her suffering routine.

The next night wasn't much better. Linda was in a quiet rage when I walked in the door after work. "Everyone at my work was asking about my weekend. A couple people even asked about Marc. One woman wanted to know just how big his cock was. I hope you're happy."

"Happy? Fuck happy. I had a football sitting on my desk when I got to work today. When I returned from lunch, a LaValliere jersey was lying on my desk. Bob Jefferson, the dickhead, suggested I get a cuckoo clock. You've got your problems and I've got mine, so leave me the fuck alone," I replied angrily.

"So you're beginning to see the consequences of your actions?" responded Linda with a sneer. "Maybe you'll think a little before you post shit on Facebook."

"I humbly submit that this would not be a topic of discussion if you'd been able to keep your legs together. We're dealing with the fallout from you being a cheating slut wife, not from my attempt at blogging about it."

I went into our living room and played with the kids until dinner was ready. The kids jabbered throughout the meal, but Linda and I were not speaking to each other. We did try to chat with the kids.

Linda put the kids to bed shortly after we finished dinner. I heard her go into the bedroom and slam the door once the kids were asleep. I finished cleaning up in the kitchen before logging into my Facebook account.

Fifteen minutes later, Linda stomped down the stairs. "You wrote that I had to get tested for STDs and HIV? You're ruining my life. Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is for me? My own mother agreed that it was a good idea! Why are you being so childish, selfish and self destructive?"

"Let's look at the situation. We went out for a nice dinner with friends. A famous athlete told you he was willing to fuck you if you could sneak away from your husband, which you did. He proceeded to fuck the living shit out of you all night, giving you who knows how man orgasms and the best sex of your life.

"Meanwhile, I was tossed under the bus, left holding the bag and completely fucked, metaphorically speaking, of course. The eight people we were with knew you left me to get fucked; fucked much better than I ever could. Explain to me how that wasn't childish, selfish, and as is now quite evident, self destructive?"

"I was just trying to have a good time, one fling in a lifelong monogamous relationship," insisted Linda. "You wrote and posted that shit to hurt me. I wasn't trying to hurt you."

"You keep saying that. Maybe you believe it, but it's a crock of shit," I replied as I considered Linda's words. "You knew I'd be humiliated. You admitted as much when you told me you were surprised at how well I was taking your night long fuck-fest. You anticipated me being very upset, yet you made the choice to fuck that asshole anyway.

"You claim I'm hurting you on purpose, but the pain you caused me was simply collateral damage. It was unavoidable if you were going to experience his big cock. Now you think I should not make any choices that cause you pain, simply because... I just realized I have no idea why you think I would consider your feelings in this."

"I'm your wife! You're supposed to protect me, take care of me. What you're doing is hurting me," replied Linda with a whine.

"You expect me to carry out my husbandly duties after you discarded your wifely obligations? You have the nerve to try to take the high ground?" I demanded angrily. "It may not seem like it, but I'm doing this for us. It's the only chance we have of staying together."

"Are you crazy? You're making me hate you. How could your cruel words and actions make me want to stay with you even one more night?"

Rather than respond, I headed upstairs to bed. I wanted to be sure she couldn't lock me out of my bedroom. I wasn't in the mood for symbolic gestures.

The next night after work was less confrontational. "I made an appointment with our doctor today to get the blood tests. That seems to be the one thing everyone who makes a comment on your page agrees on. I realize now that I should have made Marc wear a condom."

Realizing she still didn't get it, I silently went and changed my clothes. I spent a few minutes on Facebook before being called to dinner. I was cleaning up the dishes when Linda stomped into the kitchen.

"You want me to get a pregnancy test? I told you I was probably safe. I'm certain I was," stated Linda emphatically. "Posting that comment was just being petty and spiteful. You really are an ass."

My work environment was miserable as one might expect. When a man shows a weakness around other men, they close on him like a pack of wolves. I was the constant butt of jokes and nasty comments. It was a real test of my discipline and determination to make it through the work day. It seemed to get a little worse every day.

The next night when I came through the door, Linda was waiting for me. "I managed to get a doctor's appointment for this morning. I had all the tests done, including pregnancy, although I'm sure I'm not pregnant. It was pretty embarrassing. The doctor and his staff all knew why I needed the tests. They never said anything to my face, but I heard snickers and giggles in the hallway.

"It'll take a few days for the results. I need to ask you a favor. If Marc did give me a disease, or get me pregnant, could you please not post it? He's not really a bad guy and it would embarrass both of us."

I looked at her like she had two heads before I turned and walked away. She was still claiming the fucker was a nice guy. Nice guys don't fuck married women. It's called a fucking deal breaker.

Once the kids were done eating, I produced some swabs and told the kids to open their mouths. As I swabbed them, Linda suddenly realized what I was doing.

"Jim! They're yours. You don't need to test them. I read that suggestion by that damn Harry. He was never your friend before this problem came up. Don't listen to him now," pleaded Linda.

"It's pretty important to me that I'm certain they're mine," I answered icily. The kids looked and acted enough like me that I had no doubt about their paternity, but I still felt like Linda didn't get it. She hadn't come to terms with the severity of her actions. She was in denial, blaming the ensuing shitstorm on me, but never admitting making a bad decision and never thinking ill of her football player.

Friday was a particularly bad day at work. The guys were trying to get in the mood for the weekend by hammering away at me. I did sense that some of them were tiring of the way I was treated, but they were in the minority.

"It's getting hard to get my work done," admitted Linda once she put the kids in bed and returned to the kitchen. "Men keep suggesting we sneak away for a blowjob or a quick fuck. Why do they think I'd even give them the time of day? At least Marc is famous, rich and good looking, but he was a mistake. I see that now.

"Would you be willing to just hold me tonight? I don't expect you to want anything more, especially before my test results come back, but we've been fighting all week and I'm tired of it. We never went to bed mad, at least not before I went to bed with that jerk. I miss my husband."

I held Linda until she fell asleep that night. It wasn't easy for me. Every time I thought of touching her breasts or hips, I saw Marc Fucking LaValliere playing with her tits and feeding her his cum. It was all I could do not to choke her as she slept.

It was a relatively quiet weekend. I did some chores, played with the kids and caught up on lost sleep. Linda did pretty much the same thing. I was torn apart seeing Linda and not feeling the desire to touch and hold her. I knew I still loved her, but the disrespect she demonstrated toward me was simply too great.

Monday was more of the same at work, but I had built up my defenses and didn't allow it to bother me much. Bullying requires a victim who responds in a certain way and I refused to be that victim. The pleasure of riding my ass was diminishing, as I knew it would.

That evening, there was a knock on the door just after dinner. Linda was putting the kids in bed, so I was alone when I answered it. A man in a suit with a briefcase stood waiting for me to ask him in. I motioned with my head for him to follow me to the kitchen.

"Mr. Bennett? I'm William Morris. I represent 'Helping Hands', a local charity which helps kids in broken homes pay for school necessities."

"You're soliciting?" I asked in amazement. "You look more like a lawyer than a solicitor. Get it? A lawyer, not a solicitor?"

"It was very funny the first time I heard it, about 30 years ago. I am a lawyer. I'm here to offer you a substantial payment to stop your negative references of Marc LaValliere in print, over the internet, or anywhere else."

"You want to give me money to stop mentioning what an asshole your asshole client is? Is all the negative publicity affecting your fund raising?" I asked with no attempt to hide my grin.

"That and the email you sent to our sponsors, clients and directors," admitted the barrister. "You've hampered our efforts more than I care to say. I'm here to offer you ten thousand dollars to cease and desist. Does that interest you?"

"Not much," was my reply. "Your fucking client used his fame, wealth and good looks to seduce my wife, thereby turning our lives into living hells.

"Linda was the best wife, lover and friend a man could ever have. She's a great mother, a loyal friend and was a respected member of the community. Your client deliberately lured her to his bed with no interest or concern for her feelings, her family, or her position in the community.

"I felt like the luckiest man in the world every day we were together until your client, the fucking snake, slithered into our garden. Ten thousand dollars doesn't mean shit to me. I'd rather have my wife's fidelity than any amount of money, but that prick ruined that. You go back to that motherfucker and tell him I'll never mention him again, plus I won't name him in a suit for child support for the next 21 years or so, if I get a million bucks in my account by the weekend."

"That's ridiculous!" replied the lawyer immediately. "I'm authorized to go as high as twenty-five thousand."

"Well fuck you and the horse you rode in on," I stated with a snarl. "My wife's virtue was priceless, and your offer is an insult. It's two million, now, and I need it by the end of the week or you'll be reading about how I'm going to raise LaValliere's son to play for the fucking Patriots! Now get the hell out. I don't want to see you again unless you have the money in your hand!"

I ushered the sputtering man out the door and slammed it. Linda walked up to me as I turned around.

"I heard that entire thing. I really fucked up, didn't I? I had the best husband a woman could ever want and I pissed it away for a fantasy. His cock wasn't any bigger than yours. He refused to eat my pussy and he forced me to swallow his cum. It wasn't the night of incredible sex I tried to tell myself it was. I made a huge mistake, but I couldn't admit it, not even to myself.

"I'd rather have back my life with you than be with that asshole. I'm so sorry, Jim. I was wrong to disrespect and embarrass you. I just pray you don't divorce me, but I won't blame you if you do."

"That was a long time coming," I told Linda as I opened the refrigerator and pulled out a beer. "I won't make any promises about not divorcing you. You sure deserve it. Let's see how I feel in a week or two."

I received a call from Morris on Thursday. "My Bennett, my client is a charitable organization. As a member of this community, can we appeal to you to drop your extravagant request? Think of the children we won't be able to help if we were to yield to your demands."

"Did I look like I just came in on a load of fucking pumpkins?" I shouted into the phone. "I Googled you bastards. As near as I can tell your charity only helps a few kids. Over ninety percent of your budget goes for expenses, like huge salaries, vacations, conventions and promotions.

"If you want me to let that slimy bastard off the hook, cough up the two million before the banks close tomorrow. If you contact me again, for any reason but the wiring instructions, the price will go up another million. Charity, my ass!"

Friday afternoon I received a call from Morris telling me the money had been wired. I immediately logged into my account and saw a deposit of two million dollars! That shit sandwich LaValliere had served up was tasting a little better!

Linda was making dinner and the kids were playing in the living room when I got home that evening.

"Tomorrow, we're putting the house on the market," I announced. "I don't want to live here anymore."

"Where will I go?" asked a very subdued Linda. "What about the kids? Are you taking them away from me?"

"I was thinking someplace warmer, maybe Hawaii or Florida," I responded with a smile. "The kids will be going with us."

"What about our jobs? We don't have much equity in the house. How will we live, pay rent and buy food?" asked Linda. "It's not that I don't want to move away from here, but we have to be practical."

"We're going to start over. We have enough money to last until we get new jobs and find a nice house. LaValliere has managed to soothe my ruffled feathers to the tune of two million bucks.

"If you ever, ever pull a stunt like that again, you'll be picking shit with the chickens," I warned. "We were lucky this time, but I'm still pissed at you big time. Every piece of ass torn off you belongs to me. It isn't to be traded, loaned, borrowed or bought. Is that clear?"

"Very clear," responded Linda. "I guess my news doesn't compare to yours. My tests came back. I'm clean, not pregnant and horny as hell. Can you find it in your heart to give me a mercy fuck? You're being offered a two million dollar piece of ass just for the taking."

"Don't kid yourself," I replied. "It's a ten grand piece of ass. My marketing and negotiating skills made us the big bucks. You need to realize I'm going to be miserable to live with for awhile. Getting over your betrayal is going to take time. If I ever even suspect you're stepping out on me, I'll go nuclear."

"Don't worry, Jim. I learned my lesson. It was a hard one, but I always heard the hard lessons are the best ones. I want only to love and be loved by you. I'm ready to start over with you. It'll be an adventure."

"Will you miss your friends if we move a thousand miles or more?" I asked.

"My friends? They had me fooled," added Linda with a snort. "At the moment, you're the only friend I have. Now that I think about it, you're really the only true friend I've ever had, or need. I have one request. Please don't ever go back on Face Book."
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