You Can Love Too Much Ch. 01

Life as I knew it ended about six months ago, only I was too stupid to see it at that time.

I had just discovered my wife, Traci, was cheating on me with a younger co-worker of hers, after hinting (now I see it!) about wanting to have sex with him for a couple of months.

I was devastated -- gut-punched -- and disoriented when the PI I hired confirmed what I suspected. My wife of 30 years was the love of my life, and now, for some reason, decided that after all these years she needed sex from somebody else in addition to me. What the fuck?

Like most guys who are happily married, I trusted my wife completely. She worked less hours than me, and so had free time on her hands occasionally to run errands, or take in a movie, and usually, without provocation, would account for those times in recounting her days to me when I got home in the evenings. I started to get a funny feeling when she stopped telling me about her days, especially when there seemed to be some times that she seemed to be have holes in her days. I probably let the feeling linger a little longer than I should, though, but I trusted her totally.

It was completely by accident that I caught a whiff of aftershave on her hair and her blouse. I had come in a little earlier than usual, and I snuck up behind her in the kitchen as she was putting her stuff down on the kitchen table. I gave her a strong, quick hug, with my face in her hair, and that's when it hit me. That wasn't my aftershave.

I started keeping closer tabs on her work schedule, and I paid particular attention when she said she was going to be running some errands after work. I actually took off from work a couple of times, rented a car and hung around in her office's parking lot before following her. The third time I did this, she went into a small restaurant bar on the north side of the city, went up to the bar and was soon joined by a young man who looked to be about 25. It was about 3 in the afternoon, and this certainly didn't look like a work meeting, especially since my wife doesn't have a job that requires her to leave her building for meetings.

I immediately drove home, got on the Internet and looked up private investigators in the area. Spoke to the first one I called, gave him the particulars, and then poured myself a stiff drink of Canadian whisky.

When she walked in the door a little after 6, she said she was surprised to see me home from work so early, but she didn't seem bothered at all that I was there. She did do a quick scan of her clothes, though, before moving forward to give me a kiss. I made sure I got a hug as well, and noted again the aftershave on her hair was not mine ... and was that a hint of cum I was tasting on her breath? (Never having tasted it before, but from reading descriptions ...)

As a big fan of Literotica, I've noted that the writers are partial to all the guys pounding their women during sex, and all the guys can last for at least an hour, and every woman always cums during intercourse and has bite marks and hickeys from the sex. I know that most of this is absolute bullshit, but if such were the case, it probably would have been much easier to spot the signs of fucking around.

As a big fan, I've always been partial to a good revenge story, where the cuckolded husband goes scorched-earth on the unfaithful bitch. I always figured that would be the way I'd go if something like that were to happen to me. In reality, however, when the PI confirmed what I'd already suspected, I almost immediately threw out the scorched-earth scenario. I LOVED the woman. While I was furious over what she did, I didn't want to lose her. I had to convince her to stay with me and drop this little bastard.

The PI's confirmation came about three weeks later, with photos and video even. The kid was just average looking with an average body and an average-sized dick. Why him? I know why he would want her. Despite her 51 years of age and a bit of chunkiness, she still is a very sexy beast, with large, impressive breasts and a confident manner.

In the meantime, my wife and I had continued to enjoy our twice-weekly sex sessions, which usually consisted of me using my fingers and mouth on her pussy for about 45 minutes worth of screaming orgasms -- at least six -- then a very exhausted Traci letting me have her pussy for about 10 minutes, until I came hard inside of her. According to her, our sex was great, wonderful, even mind-blowing -- but, apparently, not wonderful enough that she wasn't getting some on the side.

Two weeks after I got the PI's report, I finally got the nerve to confront her, doing so while we were getting ready for our usual Saturday night fun. We were both naked and excited, so I figured this was the best time to catch her with her defenses completely down.

"Do I look stupid to you?" I asked simply.

Oh yeah, I caught her with her defenses down, all right. She looked stricken at first, then recovered enough to ask me what I was talking about.

"So I do look stupid. You're actually going to pretend there's nothing wrong."

At that point, Traci dropped her head, and in a barely audible voice said, "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry!" I screamed at her, my rage getting the best of me. "You mean you're sorry you got caught! You've been fucking with that little piece of shit for months now! And I've got proof. Want to see the photos?"

At that point she actually had the nerve to get mad at me for spying on her. I didn't take kindly to that, and actually threatened to get my gun and go shoot Nick's dick off. At that point she backed off, and said the four words no husband wants to hear: "We need to talk."

And that's where I made my biggest mistake. Instead of grabbing the gun and killing the bastard, or walking out in a rage, I listened while she talked, and I let love get in the way of doing the right thing -- for me, at least.

She started off by telling me she loved me as much as ever, and this thing with Nick certainly had nothing to do with love. They had been harmlessly flirting in the office for months when one day, on a Thursday after a great lovemaking session on Wednesday, she was still horny and got carried away. Their sex was great, too, and when the opportunity presented itself again a few days later, she went for it again.

Although she said she felt guilty as sin both times after, between our sessions and her sessions with Nick she was wired sexually, and decided she didn't want this feeling to end. She had been faithful to me for 30 years, but now at this point she realized there was more out there, and she wanted to have more. Cliche alert: it was just sex; she only loved me, and she hoped I would go along with this.

I was torn between rage and nausea.

"You can't do this to me!" I yelled. "I love you. Either you love me or you don't!"

I was so mad I was shaking. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think straight. I got dressed and left the house.

I drove around our city for about two hours, just driving. When I finally went home, she was waiting up for me. The tears in her eyes looked genuine, I had to admit to myself. But I still couldn't wrap my head around the fact that my wife wanted to have sex with another man in addition to our sex life.

We didn't have sex that night, nor for about two weeks after that.

The next day after the reckoning, I left work early and went to see a divorce lawyer. Plans were made for the equal division of our money and liquid assets, since we had each put into those accounts, and I was going to give her the house, which was paid for. I just needed to sign the paperwork when it was done, and she would be served. My heart was breaking.

It was pretty quiet at the house, too, except for the fights we had on Tuesday and Friday night, after she got home from her sex sessions with Nick. I'm talking divorce here, and she's having great sex with a 25-year-old stud and coming home with disheveled clothing and a smile on her face.

At no point in either fight did she ever say anything that made me think she was going to stop the shit, so I asked her point blank on Friday night. She looked stricken, and then said that of course she wasn't going to stop the affair. It was great sex, just like our great sex, and she didn't see why she had to stop. It was just sex with Nick, not love like we had, but it was great sex and she wasn't going to stop. I couldn't believe what I was hearing, and then I cracked. She asked me to consider letting her have her fun with Nick, and we could continue to have our fun and our love. I said I would consider it, and while we didn't make love that night, we fell asleep in each other's arms.

So Traci and Nick did their thing on Tuesday and Friday nights, and Traci and I did our thing on Wednesday and Saturday. I asked her a few things about him and what they did, and found out that they usually had two sessions because he could recover quickly, but that I was still better with my hands and mouth. While I wasn't happy with the situation, I at least still had my Traci, and for her part she seemed very happy with the way things were going. Why wouldn't she be happy?

I put the divorce talk on hold, and became a knowing cuckold. What a fucking idiot.