Reluctant Cuckold (40 page)

Five minutes later, the music was still playing loudly and I was sitting on the living room couch with my head in my hands.

How could I have been so stupid? Good fucking God, what have I done? Mike is going to fuck Ashley tonight … in my own fucking bedroom … in my own fucking bed.

I felt sick to my stomach, and like I might cry.

I got up and sat down outside my bedroom door. But the music was so loud and there was no space between the songs.

I thought of Ashley saying, “I really like Mike” earlier at the bar.

Finally I got up and lay down on the living room sofa. It was after three, and I had to work tomorrow.

What have I done? I wondered. I just let another man lock me out of my own fucking bedroom and he probably just fucked my wife in our marital bed.

I hadn’t been man enough to stop him. I should have broken things up and taken Ashley home as soon as I’d seen them kissing at the bar.

What would Ashley think of me now?

Will everything between us be different when I wake up tomorrow? Did I throw my marriage away tonight?

I woke up on the sofa in a hangover haze. I saw Ashley’s dress over the foot of the sofa and realized there were sounds coming from the bedroom. It was 5:15.

I knew what was happening as I walked back up to the bedroom. I could hear the bed creaking. Ashley was moaning, “Oh God.”

It was all too obvious. I was listening to my wife getting fucked. I heard Ashley’s voice as I sat in the hallway by my bedroom door. “Oh God, Mike, oh yeah, Mike.”

I wiped my eyes and listened to her moan—to the hard ball-slapping sounds of intense fucking.

What the fuck are you doing, dude?
I said to myself, as I pulled my dick out through the fly of my boxers.

The ball slapping grew louder and the pace increased.

“Oh God, Mike, oh yeah, fuck me baby!”

“Yes, Mike, yes Mike, oh my God, Mike, I’m cumming, baby!”

Suddenly, I came. I didn’t even have time to cup it. It landed on the carpet. I searched my pocket for a tissue.

But Mike was continuing to fuck my wife.

I put my forehead in my hand and felt a visceral knot in my stomach.

“Oh God, I love your cock, Mike, I’m about to cum again.”

I wiped tears from my eyes.

“So am I, Ashley,” I heard him say, “I’m so close, baby.”

“I’m cumming, Mike, oh God, I’m cumming, Mike!”

“Oh fuck, yeah Ashley, so am I, baby, oh yeah, here it comes.”

“Oh Mike, oooh Mike.”

“Oh fuck, right inside you, baby.”

The sounds from the bedroom quickly receded.

I didn’t want to get caught listening by the bedroom door. So I stumbled my way back to the couch and lay there, my heart racing. Didn’t Ashley know they’d wake me? Did she not even consider that? Or did she not care that I might hear her wake-up-fuck with Mike—in my fucking bedroom—in our fucking bed?

I heard the shower turn on.

Twenty minutes later, I heard footsteps and pretended to be asleep. I felt Mike looking down on me. Then I heard our apartment door shut.

I lay there in the quiet for a while, wondering what I could possibly say to Ashley. I tiptoed up the hallway and saw her sleeping. I showered in our other bathroom, so as not to wake her.

As I was about to leave, I stared at her sleeping—the woman I loved more than anything in the world.

“It’s seven-thirty,” I said. “You’re going to be late for work.”

“I’m calling in sick today,” she said.

“Are you OK?”

“Yeah, but hung over and super-sleepy. And I haven’t used one sick day this year. It’s fine.”

“OK,” I said, “well I’m gonna head off now.”

“How are you?” she asked.

“I’m OK.”

“You sleep OK?”

“I’m hung over, too, but I slept OK.”

“Where did you sleep?”

“The sofa in the living room.”

“It’s not bad, is it?”

“What?” I said.

“That sofa, I’ve napped there a lot. It’s pretty comfy.”

“It was fine,” I said.

“David?” she said.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. And I understand.”

I looked at her puzzled, expressionless.

“Come here and give me a hug,” she said. I leaned over and put my arms around her. The blanket fell slightly, exposing one of her breasts. Then she gave me a kiss and said, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Ashley.”

“Have a great day at work,” she said.

There was no way in hell I could even remotely have a great day at work.

I was a zombie and sick to my stomach.

After a meeting my boss asked, “Are you OK?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I’m just not feeling well.”

“You sick? You want to go home?”

I ended up leaving a little early, but I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t know what to say to Ashley or what she would say to me. I went to Central Park and found a bench in a secluded area. Ashley was the most precious thing in the world to me, the one woman I couldn’t see living without. What kind of meek little pussy would I seem to her now?

I thought about her comments in the morning. Telling me the sofa was comfy. Did she expect me to say, “Oh yeah, super comfy, I loved it, best sleep in years.”

And what was she thanking me for? What did she mean, she understood? Understood fucking what?

Doesn’t she know I’m aware she got fucked last night? Does she really think I went from having the door shut on me to peacefully drifting off on that couch? She doesn’t think I was so drunk that I was unaware of what was happening in our bedroom, does she?

I thought of what she’d cried out—“I love your cock, Mike”—personalizing it, as he fucked her.

Fucking Mike, that asshole.

Thanks a lot, Mr. I’ll help you with this bro.

What a stooge he’d made of me. He’d played me, pretending to be my friend and confidant.
Like yeah, Mike, thanks for the fucking insight
.

He probably had designs on Ashley the moment I stupidly sent him photos. Show me more photos Dave.

OK, Mike, here’s some more. Oh and here’s all Ashley’s biographical info complete with interests, favorite books, you name it. Oh and you want time alone with her? OK, sure, I’ll step outside for twenty minutes.

How easy I had made it for him. I’d fucking handed my wife to him on a silver fucking platter. God, the fucking power he must’ve felt. He probably knew he was closing the deal as soon as he was inside our apartment, the place where I lived—looking at photos on our walls, symbols of the life Ashley and I had built together.

And then he took the most sacred symbol—our marital bed—and fucked my wife in it. Mike had humiliated me in front of my own wife. He took the most precious thing in the world to me—my wife’s pussy—and fucked it as his own.

What did the future portend for us now? How could I look Ashley in the eyes? How could she not view me differently? How could last night not have untold significance for us, our relationship, our marriage? She hadn’t just let him fuck her last night, drunk. She’d let him give her a sober wake-up fuck as well.

I would be going home in a few hours. I kind of hoped she simply wouldn’t bring it up. I could play dumb. I could pretend I was too drunk to be aware of what happened.

Ashley was showing Mike the bedroom and they both crashed, and then so did I. The living room sofa seemed as good a place as any. I hadn’t been able to keep up with the party. Maybe they briefly cranked tunes, and then saw me on the sofa. And Mike was too drunk to go home, so he just crashed on the bed.

I could have slept through this morning. Ashley doesn’t know I heard or was listening by the door. I could say something vague like “Did I help take your dress off?” and she could say, “Oh my God I barely even remember that.”

Maybe we could write it off as just some weird, drunken night.

Tired and numb, sitting on the bench, I suddenly got a text from Mike, saying, “Hey buddy, u around for mtg up after work & touching base?”

Fuck you
, I thought,

I let his follow-up call go to voicemail.

“Hey buddy,” he said, as I finally listened to his message, “I got a text from Ashley, but I don’t want to respond without talking with you first. Let me know if you’re around to meet up.”

Good God, I thought, what did Ashley text him?

There was no choice. I had to know. I had to meet him.

“In a mtg,” I texted back, “how’s seven at the bar we hung out at?”

“See you then,” he replied.

I texted Ashley that I had to meet a client after work.

She texted back, “K, I’ll be here.”

I got to the bar a half hour early. I needed a drink and some time to think before Mike arrived.

Mike had pulled far more on me than Jim Murta ever had. Mike raised the stakes, upped the ante into the stratosphere.

It was still so hard to mentally process. It felt un-real. Mike had engineered a meeting, used my information to push her buttons, and used my bed, my bedroom to fuck my wife—relegating me to sleeping on the fucking couch.

I wondered if Ashley had called Tamara today with details. Would Tamara say, “I’m really impressed with the way Dave handled sleeping on the couch so maturely”?

I thought of punching Mike, but he’d probably end up kicking my ass.

Mike had a broad smile when he walked over and insisted on hugging me.

“So, how ya doing buddy?” he said as he sat beside me. “What you drinking?”

“Stella,” I replied.

“Could we get two Stellas?” Mike said, and threw down his card.

“So how you doing bro?”

“OK.”

“Were you as tired as I was today?”

I nodded.

“Yeah, bro, I hear you. I was dragging for sure.”

“You OK?” he continued, “you seem a little shaken up.”

“I’m a lot shaken up,” I said, “can you freaking blame me?”

“I totally understand, man, it’s a very normal reaction.”

“Normal is nowhere near how I feel right now.”

“It’s gonna be OK, buddy. Relax, everything’s gonna be fine.”

“What are you saying? Everything is not fine.”

“Chill bro, don’t worry,” he said, “cheers.”

I clicked my glass mechanically with his.

“You said Ashley texted you?”

“Yeah, I want to get to that. But first, just talk to me Dave. I’m here for you. I really am. What’s the matter? Were you surprised or blindsided by what happened last night?”

“Yes, you could say that. Blindsided, yeah, I was blindsided.”

“Didn’t expect it would happen so quickly?”

“I wasn’t expecting this to happen at all, Mike. I thought this was about getting inside her head.”

I looked around to make sure we weren’t being overheard, before saying, “I didn’t know it was about you trying to get inside my wife’s pussy.”

“It was about getting a read on her. And it turned out she was open to being with me. You said you wanted to know. Now you know. Now you have a baseline from which to go forward.”

“What does that mean? Baseline? I know what the word means, but what do you mean?”

“Dave, if it hadn’t been me, it would have been someone else. It was just a matter of time. Only you wouldn’t have known about it. At least she wasn’t running around behind your back. Or embarrassing you like that guy did. You don’t want that, right?”

“No.”

“Well, now you can begin to embrace that part of her sexuality and show that you support her, that you’re there for her, that your love is unconditional. You do love her, right? You don’t want to lose her?”

“Of course I love her. I told you the first time we talked that the thing that scared me the most was her leaving me. Do I love her? Are you kidding me? You know I do.”

“Then you need to continue to show her that. And you did last night. By letting her follow her bliss. Letting her be who she is. Letting her explore her adventurous side. She’s a very attractive young lady who is starting to bloom sexually. What’s so wrong with that?”

“What’s wrong with it?” I asked. “She’s my wife, for one. Do you realize what my friends or family would think if they knew what happened last night?”