Too Great a Temptation Ch. 01

PREFACE:

This is the first of a five-part series of erotic stories about a marriage in trouble. They were inspired by and are based upon a letter that appeared in July 2005 in Annie's Mailbox, an advice column written by Kathy Mitchell and Marcy Sugar, longtime editors of the Ann Landers column. It is distributed to newspapers across America by Creators Syndicate, Inc.

The letter was written by Clueless in New York, who recently discovered that his wife of many years has a secret life of which he was previously unaware. His wife is a businesswoman who travels extensively out of state, and in the course of these trips, she has become involved in several extramarital sexual affairs of long standing. His question to the column is whether to confront his wife with this knowledge or pretend that he is still unaware of her activities while on the road.

The advice given to him in the column is to tell his wife what he has discovered and request that she go with him for marriage counseling. Ms. Mitchell and Ms. Sugar close with the admonition that the wife, "needs to put her marriage first, and that means making it more important than her job, which apparently provides too great a temptation.

These stories look at this wounded marriage through the eyes of both parties. They make no moral judgments upon either the husband or the wife, although there is no debate about who is the guilty party. Nevertheless, the stories avoid demonizing the wife, while at the same time they do not exonerate her for her behavior.

The dates that appear at the beginning of each chapter correspond to a meeting with the couple's (fictitious) marriage counselor, a Dr. Jessica Newton, and the commentary in each part reflects the couple's situation, plus their thoughts and attitudes, at that particular time.

While providing explicitly detailed descriptions of the wife's encounters, with an eye toward sexually arousing the reader, they also seek to finds ways of understanding and explaining why an otherwise loving wife would willingly jeopardize her marriage for the sake of sexual gratification.

If you are not comfortable reading about a wife who willfully cheats on her husband, or if such stories anger you, remember that no one is holding you hostage, and you are free to move on to something a little more to your liking.

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JUNE 27, 2005

Howard's story

It was raining that Saturday, washing out my plans to spend the day doing yard work.

Still, when I'm home alone on a weekend, as I was that day a little more than a week ago, I like to make myself useful around the house, so I decided it was time to tackle the basement. It hadn't had a good, thorough going-over in at least seven, maybe eight years, and over that time, boxes of junk had accumulated.

I was home alone that weekend because my wife, Shelley, was in California on business, and wasn't due back for several days. We've been married 31 years, and we've both worked, with the exception of when she was out having our younger son, very early in her career.

I'm head of the loan department for a bank, while Shelley works for a major manufacturing corporation based in midtown Manhattan. I used to work in the city, as well, but about 12 years ago, I sought a little slower pace and took a job with a bank located closer to our home in suburban Westchester County. We've had this house for 25 years, it's fully paid for, and I always thought it was a happy, cozy home.

I'm pretty quiet and mild-mannered by nature, and the slower pace suits me. Shelley, however, is a lot more outgoing, a lot more assertive and a lot more career-oriented. She started with her company right out of college, and has moved steadily up the ladder.

Seven years ago, she received a promotion to a junior vice-president position, which she currently holds, and that job requires a fairly significant amount of out-of-state travel.

Shelley goes on business trips about every four to six weeks, sometimes more often, usually to Chicago, Washington D.C., Miami or Los Angeles, places where her company has major clients that she is required to visit periodically. The lengths of the trips vary, from a couple of days to four or five days.

Shelley and I met when I was in high school, when I was a junior, and she was a freshman, which at that time was junior high. It was love at first sight, at least for me.

She was (and still is) a natural blonde, with penetrating steel-blue eyes, a ready smile and a lean, compact body that she works hard to maintain. She's now 49 and looks at least 10 years younger.

We were a matched pair all through her high school years, and it's a wonder she didn't get pregnant before she did, not long after she graduated from high school. We were hot for each other from the beginning, but we managed to wait on sex until right before I was started college, after we'd been together for two years.

Once we took the plunge, though, we were insatiable. Shelley was (and is) a firecracker in bed, an energetic lover who has never denied me anything I wanted sexually. I went to college close to home, so that I could be close to Shelley, and we fucked just about every chance we got. She is all the woman I've ever needed.

Getting pregnant only postponed Shelley's college ambitions for a couple of years, however, because once I graduated from college and went to work, I dutifully put her through college, the way I had promised her father I would when we married.

We had our second son not long after she graduated from college, then she had her tubes tied and set about making a career. I was a little disappointed, because I was hoping to try for a daughter, but Shelley has always gotten what she wants, and she was adamant about not having another child.

Our two boys are grown now, with wives and families of their own. Our older son, David, is 30 with a son and a daughter, and our younger son, Jason, is 24, with a son born less than a year ago. We take a lot of pride in them, and we dote on our grandchildren.

Both of our sons turned out well, although Shelley wasn't as big a part of their lives as most moms, one reason why I decided to get a job closer to home. I am far more domestic than she is, and I don't mean that in a negative way. It's just the way our marriage evolved.

As I sit here and try to figure out what went wrong, I've put all of these little pieces together from our past and come up with some vague explanations for why she did what she did, but they really aren't sufficient.

Certainly, I'm not the young stud I once was, not that I was ever what you'd call a stud. But when I was younger, I had a full head of thick brown hair, now gone gray and thinning rapidly. I've always been told I was nice-looking, and I guess that hasn't changed.

However, over the years I have put on about 25 pounds that no amount of yard work will take off, and I haven't been inclined to spend a lot of time at the health club, the way Shelley does.

Occasionally, I'll go with her to the club and walk the track, while she attacks the Stairmaster and the treadmill, but that's the extent of my interest in exercising. That's mostly because she prefers to get her workout in during the evening, after she gets off the train from work. I'm usually at home by then, and not all that willing to get back out.

Our sex life, though, has remained pretty good, or at least I thought it had. We still make love two or three times a week, which I thought was quite good for a man of 51. I guess in terms of our respective biological clocks, I haven't been able to keep up with Shelley, but I never got any indication from her that she was less than satisfied with our sex life.

So I was working in the basement that rainy summer afternoon, trying to clear out some space, when I came across a box that had been sort of hidden away in a corner, under some bags of old tax receipts. When I opened the box, I saw that it contained some of Shelley's work documents, including her logbooks.

Now Shelley is very meticulous about her life, and she's very well organized, especially in relation to her job. So she keeps detailed logs of everything she does on the job, day in and day out, both in the office and on the road. And, as I was soon to learn, she doesn't leave anything out.

I honestly wasn't snooping, because I had no reason to snoop. Never in the whole 31 years we've been married have I had any reason to suspect that she was cheating on me.

I mean, Shelley has always behaved in a loving manner toward me when we're together. I have never heard any whispers of scandal about her, no "knowing" looks, no anonymous letters or tips, nothing that would have led me to believe that my wife was anything other than a happily married mother and grandmother.

We are very well thought of in our community, and we have a modest circle of longtime friends who think we are the perfect couple.

So I wasn't in any way suspicious about Shelley's job-related activities. But I was curious to see what was in her logbooks, since she has never been one to talk a lot about the details of her job, especially when she travels. After what I discovered, I can understand why.

Each logbook covered a calendar year, beginning in 1998, when she got her promotion, so I started there. At first, the log entries were pretty mundane, details about meetings with clients and contracts with companies she was dealing with here in New York, then in other cities.

After about six months, however, I noticed that whenever she was in Chicago, one man's name kept showing up, a Louis Bertelli. I read with concern, then mounting alarm, then dismay as the entries became more and more intimate.

It started with routine meetings in his office, then progressed from there to dinner at her hotel to late-night meals at fine restaurants to nightclub visits until I finally came across the entry that began the process of shattering my world.

It was dated in early November, about eight months after her promotion, and it was quite detailed...

Shelley's story

You can put a gun to my head, and I still won't be able to tell you exactly why I started cheating on Howard.

There are a lot of reasons, and none of them by themselves would have been enough to push me into adultery. But all together, they built up an unstoppable momentum, to the point where I freely and willingly chose to enter into a series of sexual relationships outside of my marriage.

Let there be no mistake. I was the one who decided to step out on my husband. I wasn't coerced into these relationships, I was relatively sober when I took that path, and by now I have made them such a part of my life that I'm not sure I can give them up, even to save my marriage.

First of all, let me stress that I have never stopped loving Howard. He's a kind, sweet man and I have spent many a sleepless night listening to him snore, knowing that I was betraying him. He was the first and only true love of my life, he's the father of my children and we've made a home together for 31 years. He's supported my career every step of the way, and, honestly, he doesn't deserve this.

But the plain, unassailable truth is that I need more sex than I can get from him. I have always had a very high sex drive, even when we were younger and he was a lot more vigorous. He's always struggled to keep up with me sexually, and now the discrepancy between our respective sexual urges is quite pronounced.

While I am right now at or close to my sexual peak, and have been for several years, he's well on the downslope, and has been for several years. And he just can't satisfy me the way my other lovers can.

Oh, he tries, and I do love him for it. He hasn't given up, and that's to his credit. When we make love, it's nice and I get a lot of affection from being with him. But he can't stay up like he used to, and when he comes, that's it. He's through for the night.

I have now come to need SO much more than what he can give me, more than he could ever give me, and I think that was true even at the start. I need more than just nice, sweet lovemaking for 10 minutes two or three nights a week.

You see, I don't make love with my other partners. No sir. They fuck me. They fuck me hard, they fuck me good, they fuck me long and they make me come, over and over and over. Then they fuck me again. It's just raw animal passion, and they always give me all I can handle and more.

No way Howard can match that. Truth is, sex with Howard hasn't given me an orgasm in over 10 years. Used to, he could at least get me off when he went down on me, but over time even that has failed to light my fuse.

I love my husband, but the lust I once felt for him has pretty much died. Having been taken to the heights of ecstasy, having experienced what truly awesome sex is all about, and having gotten it on a pretty regular basis; I just can't get a charge out of Howard's pedestrian sexual prowess.

If that makes me a bad person – a slut, if you please – then I guess I'm a slut.

Honestly, however, I did not set out to cheat on Howard, and I have tried hard to keep him from being hurt. I don't have any lovers in the city – no workplace romances for me – nor do I mess around with anyone here at home. When I'm home, I belong to Howard, and I truly enjoy being in his company.

But on the road, it's a different story. When I'm traveling on business, I become this sexual creature who can't get enough. I've done things in other cities that would curl the hair of our conservative, suburban friends, if they were to somehow find out.

Like I said, I didn't intend to cheat on Howard, but a potent combination of frustration and temptation made me ripe for the plucking, and Louis Bertelli swiftly and skillfully seduced me not long after I started going on these out-of-town business trips.

Louis is the CEO of one of our company's major suppliers, and he is a powerful, dynamic person. Frankly, he's one of the sexiest men I've ever encountered.

He's tall, probably 6-2, maybe 6-3, and lean, well built, with a dusky complexion and a full head of dark hair with just enough gray to give him a distinguished look. I've never asked him his age, but I'd say he's about my age, maybe a little younger. But he is much, much more virile, and far more aggressive than Howard could ever be, and I believe that's what ultimately attracted me to him.

I think we both knew from the first time that we met what was going to happen. There was just this sexual energy that crackled between us from the moment I first met him.

I had been in my job about four, maybe five months, and his company was my first really big account. Dealings with Louis' underlings had not been going well. I think maybe they thought that because of my relative inexperience, the fact that I was a woman and due to my eagerness to bring in the account, that they could lowball me.

I had some flexibility on how low I could go in order to land the contract, but the numbers they were insisting upon were ridiculously, unacceptably low. I refused to be intimidated, so we seemed to be at an impasse.

The thing is, I knew without a doubt that if we could just reach an agreement that we could do some profitable business. Our respective industries are so compatible and our companies are so much alike that I believed that if we could just agree on a price that everything else would fall into place.

Finally, in frustration, I insisted on a personal meeting with the CEO, hoping he could bring his company around.

To say I was dazzled by Louis' sexual magnetism would be an understatement. I could actually feel myself getting wet just from the way he fixed his dark eyes on me as I first walked into his office.

But I didn't get where I am in the business world by letting my emotions get the best of me, so I quelled my budding arousal and got down to making my presentation.

I have to admit, I dressed for success, wearing a snug business suit with a skirt that didn't quite reach my knees. I gave him just enough of a look at my slender legs to make him sit up and take notice, without being overtly flirtatious. I've always known just how to dress for any occasion, and I'm extremely skilled at skirting that fine line between showing just enough and showing too much.

I made my pitch, and when I was finished, he asked some questions and I gave him some answers. By the tone of his questions, I believed I had made some serious inroads, so I left the prospectus with him for his perusal.

On my way out of his office, he came over and shook my hand warmly, and held the touch just a split-second longer than normal.

"Thank you so much for seeing me today, Mr. Bertelli," I said, with a slight flutter in my voice.

"Please, call me Louis, Miss Gaines," he answered smoothly.

"It's Mrs. Gaines, but please, call me Shelley," I said.

"Shelley, then," he said finally. "We'll be in touch."

That night, I flew back to New York in a horny daze, and when I got home, I practically attacked poor Howard. I woke him up out of a dead sleep by sucking his cock up to full hardness, then I climbed on and rode him like I was some out of control cowgirl.

But he was so tired that he kept losing his erection, until I finally gave up and let him roll over to go back to sleep.

Then I fished out my vibrator and imagined that it was Louis Bertelli's cock. It didn't take me long until I was thrashing on the bed in one of the stronger self-induced orgasms I can ever recall having.

Two weeks went by, during which time I kept trying to tell myself that I was a happily married woman and that I shouldn't be having these wicked fantasies about Louis. I finally told myself that I was acting like a schoolgirl and that a powerful man like Louis Bertelli wouldn't be interested in me.

But the moment my boss came into my office and told me to run home, pack a bag and catch the red-eye for Chicago, my stomach did cartwheels and my pussy lurched in response.

The next day, I met with Louis and his board of directors, and repeated the pitch I'd made two weeks earlier. I also noticed that the bean counters who had treated me with such disdain earlier were now falling over themselves to be solicitous of me.

I knew right then that I had the contract, but we didn't reach an agreement right away. Nevertheless, after the meeting, Louis invited me to lunch, and that's when he really started working his charm.

Honestly, being in his presence was intoxicating. He was a smooth conversationalist, skilled at eliciting information from seemingly casual questions, and I was dazzled by his sexiness.

By the time we left the restaurant and I got in my taxi for the trip to the airport, he knew just about everything about me that he needed to know.

About three weeks later, I flew back to Chicago for the purpose of nailing down all of the loose details and getting Louis to sign on the dotted line. I was there for the better part of a week, and after the third day, we had an agreement.

To celebrate, Louis and I had dinner at my hotel, and it was quite apparent by then that we were on a fast track to seduction. Dinner lasted quite a long time, and I had several glasses of wine, so I was feeling very mellow, very sexual.

Finally, Louis sat back in his chair and fixed me with an even gaze. I felt a lustful shiver run through my body from the way he looked at me.

"Tell me, Shelley, are you really happily married?" he said. I hesitated before I answered, and I think that's when he knew he had me.

"Y-yes," I said slowly. "Yes I am. I love Howard and we've been together a long time."

"But you're not satisfied, are you," he said pointedly. I just stared at him, because I had never revealed the inner workings of my sex life with Howard.

"How do you know that?" I asked, then quickly wished I could have taken the question back.