I would suppose that, in the minds of some, I’m not really all that nice of a person because I cheated on my wife and for the most stupid of reasons: She cheated on me first. Today, I wouldn’t even go there but back then, it seemed like a good thing to do before I found out that it wasn’t… but let me tell you what happened…
I began to suspect that something wasn’t right; every time I wanted sex from my wife, she had a boatload of excuses, from being tired to telling me she was too tender for sex due to her underwear chafing her. None of her excuses made sense – well, not completely – but the excuses were coming at times where shit just didn’t add up, if you know what I mean. Even back then, I knew that what you suspected was one thing and that what you could prove was very different… and I had a great deal of suspicion and zero proof. This went on for a while and when we did have sex, her behavior was more than suspect; see, women think that they can have sex with someone else and their man would never find out and probably because most guys aren’t that observant and they don’t know what to look for but I figured it out, letting my observations build up until I had enough “probable cause” to confront her with my suspicions.
Oh, hell, yeah, she categorically denied that she was doing something wrong but I leaned on her, hammering her with my suspicions and observations until she folded like a wet paper towel and confessed that she had been fucking other men behind my back. I was surprisingly calm; any other guy having his suspicions confirmed would, sadly, beaten his woman unmercifully. Oh, I was pissed to no end but not to the point where I was going to start hitting on her; for one, my mother raised me better than that and, for the other, while this was a very bad situation, it wasn’t worth going to jail for. I sat and listened to the details of her infidelity because I really wanted to know why she felt the need to do this and, of course, if I had anything to do with her decisions in this. Oh, shit, yeah, it was hard to listen to but I knew I had to hear all of it… and I did… and I was already plotting my revenge.
I eventually learned a lesson that a lot of people learn: The way to deal with this situation isn’t going out and committing a revenge fuck; not only does that actually compound the issue but the only situation where two wrongs make a right is in mathematics. Even though something in the back of my mind was pointing this out to me, fuck no – I’d been cheated on and, worse, it wasn’t even because of anything I did or didn’t do so, uh-huh, was I ever gonna teach her a lesson and give her an idea of how ugly a feeling it is! Before she even finished talking about what she had done to me – and to us as a whole – I not only knew what I was going to do, I knew exactly who I was going to do it with – all I had to do was put it all in motion and, of course, pick the right moment for my revenge.
The woman I picked to help me exact my revenge was one who made no bones about the fact that if I wasn’t married, she’d fuck me nine ways to Sunday and all I had to do was go to her and say, “Hey, do you remember telling me that if you had the chance, you’d fuck me?”
She said, “Yeah… and I meant that shit, too!”
I said, “Well, here’s your chance!”
She was out of her clothes so fast that I was kinda surprised she didn’t hurt herself in the process and once I got undressed, it was on. In retrospect, it was weird; I knew what I was thinking but, at the same time, I don’t know what I was thinking about. I was angry and I had even asked myself whether or not I was about to fuck this woman just because I was angry but, nope, there was some lust – okay, a lot of lust – for her as well and I knew – or I thought I knew – that because I wanted to fuck her and my lust for her was genuine, that took my being angry and set it aside… which, of course, it didn’t but I couldn’t see that at the time; my need for revenge was blinding me to a great many things, things that would be revealed in short order.
We went from kissing each other as if our lives depended on it to going down on each other and, yeah, I can easily admit that it was damned good, from the way her pussy tasted and the way she came so easily right down to the way she sucked my dick, sucking it like she wasn’t afraid of sucking dick, as evidenced by the way she made me explode in her mouth even though I had the presence of mind to warn her that I was gonna lose it. Not only did she make me lose it, she didn’t stop sucking me until I was good and hard again.
But after I busted that first nut, there was something… ugly and sickly poking around in my mind; it was telling me that I just fucked up big time but, honestly, while I was aware of this, I wasn’t really paying too much attention to it because she was still sucking my dick and I was still eating the stuffing out that pussy. She said, “Come on, put it in me, baby!” and I actually wrenched my back a little because of how fast I got into position to enter her and, whew, my dick slid into her like a hot knife through butter; she gasped, I gasped, and we were humping away at each other like it was illegal.
Which was when my mind said to me, “Well, it is illegal – what the fuck are you doing? You know you shouldn’t be doing this!” I started to get a really sick feeling in my stomach that was getting harder to ignore; I felt myself shift into some kind of auto-pilot; I was still banging the shit out of that pussy… but now in a very detached way because my conscience succeeded in getting my full attention and I can’t even begin to tell you what it was telling me except to say it kept pointing out how wrong I was and in every way it could imagine – and there were a lot of ways. I don’t know if she even noticed that something was going on with me; she was too busy having a great deal of fun fucking back at me, cursing lustily with her legs locked tightly around me and her nails digging in to my back; I could feel her pussy contracting around me each time she came and, honestly, she pretty much deafened me with her very loud proclamations that she was cumming. Between my second wind and the utterly horrible feeling swirling around in my head, I wasn’t even close to busting a nut in her – in fact, my conscience was suggesting strongly that I just stop and go no further but, ah, I don’t know, that just didn’t seem right, if that makes any sense – so I kept going until I finally creamed her… and it felt anything other than good.
I’m locked in place by her legs and arms; my cock is still twitching and shit even as it starts to shrink inside her; she’s telling me how much she enjoyed fucking me and other nice things… and the only thing I could think of was, “What the fuck did you just do?” I felt so sick to my stomach it wasn’t funny; my conscience didn’t help matters any, either, taking the moment to remind me that, uh, you probably got this woman pregnant and then showing me all the fucked up shit that would cause. I finally withdrew and we cleaned up and got dressed; I was listening to just how pumped up she was and the more she talked about how good the sex was, the sicker I felt because I was now fully aware of the fact that I just used this woman to do something that I shouldn’t have done in the first place and, yeah, there’s a reason why they say the following things: Revenge is a dish best served cold and when you’re plotting revenge, first, dig two graves.
The guilt was hammering me like a Cat 5 hurricane; it was consuming me so hard that I wanted to throw up. I couldn’t wait to leave her and head home and, honestly, I don’t know how I managed to tell her that I had one hell of a time with her and not sound fake in doing so; my mind was so fucked up that I even agreed to get with her again the next day for more of the same – and my conscience took that as another reason to kick my ass even harder. I don’t think I got too far from her crib before I was bending over and throwing up all over the sidewalk; I even had a “funny” moment in thinking that anyone who saw me yakking all over the street (and myself) would think that I had had too much to drink. I eventually got my shit together enough to make it home; thanks to my well-executed plan, I knew my wife wouldn’t be home so it was no biggie for me to get cleaned up and to start the load of clothes that were waiting to be washed. But that also meant that I had time to think about what I’d done and if I had anything left to throw up, I would have done just that as my guilt beat me like the proverbial redheaded stepchild… until I asked myself, “What the fuck do I have to feel guilty over?”
The self-justification process kicked in and the simple – and very stupid – reply that came back was, “I wouldn’t have done this if she hadn’t done it first! She betrayed me – she betrayed us and everything marriage stood for! All I did was get even!” Yep, for a guy as smart as I was, I was also pretty stupid, too – but it would be a few years in the future before I’d fully realize just how stupid that justification was. Later that evening, when my wife got back home and the kids were put to bed, we made love (or fucked, take your pick) and I didn’t have that triumphant feeling I thought I’d have, you know that, “Hah! You have no idea what I was doing while you were gone!” kind of thing. Still, my revenge wasn’t complete because stage two of my exquisite plot was to tell her what I had done and why I had done it… but, first, I had to go get more of that pussy because I stupidly promised I’d come back and get some more of it.
And I did, too; truth be told, it was even better than it was the first time and more so when she wanted me to pull out of her pussy and finish in her ass. And I was into the sex with her… but not really; I knew that the only reason why I was in bed with her was because I told her I’d be there… when I shouldn’t have said that, but my mind was totally out to lunch when I agreed to fuck her again… oh, man, what a mess this is turning out to be! After the second go-round, she finally got around to asking me what made me remind her that she wanted to fuck me – and I told her why; I actually thought she’d get pissed off with me to learn that she was a tool for my revenge… but she wasn’t pissed – in fact, she was damned sympathetic and even said, “Man, that’s so fucked up – but I ain’t complaining ’cause I finally got to fuck you!” – then gave me a rather nice blow job to take home with me.
My conscience was fucking with me… but not as badly as it had the day before; it was time to put Phase 2 into action and tell my wife what I’d done and why I did it. On the one hand, I just couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when I told her, to see the hurt and pain eating into her, just like it did to me; I couldn’t wait to blast her ass with my reasons for cheating and to let her know that it was her cheating that brought all of this about. Oh, this was going to be so fucking sweet that I was practically bouncing off the walls with anticipation; she had hurt me and I was mere moments away from hurting her right back…
My telling her had the expected results; I had her in tears as soon as I told her that I had fucked “P,” and it was even sweeter since she knew “P;” oh, lawd, she was beyond furious and I was all kinds of rotten motherfuckers and, yep, I was actually enjoying her discomfiture and even said, as she was throwing shit all over the place, “Now you know how I felt, huh?” But as I sat there watching her have the hissy fit to end all hissy fits, it wasn’t all that enjoyable any longer; I’d hurt her, to be sure, but I found that there was really no pleasure to be had and I started feeling rather lousy about it. She finally wore herself out ranting and raving and, as she sat and cried, I found myself thinking about all the ways I could have – and should have – handled this without compounding the problem by doing what she did; I even asked myself why I didn’t think about these alternatives before I exacted my revenge?
When she looked at me and said, “I don’t know why I deserved to be treated like this!” I pretty much went totally ape-shit – but got a grip on myself quickly and answered her statement with, “What, did you really think you were going to do something like this and I wasn’t going to do something about it? Would you have preferred that I did what other motherfuckers would have done and put your ass in the hospital?”
She didn’t have anything to say about that other than to say, “I’m sorry;” I said I was sorry, too, but kinda/sorta not really; I was now fully aware that I shouldn’t have done what she did but you know how it is: Once you do something, you cannot undo it… and the pussy was good despite the circumstances that allowed me to get it. My wife asked me if I was going to keep fucking “P” and I said, “That depends on you; if you’re gonna keep giving it up to other dudes, then I don’t see where you leave me much choice in the matter unless you wanna get divorced…”
Well, she didn’t want that to happen and, truth be told, neither did I. A very uncomfortable silence descended upon us as we both thought about all of this; I knew I was thinking a whole lot of shit and, in that moment, I wasn’t sure what she was thinking so I was surprised when she finally said, “Let’s go to bed…” and, as you might expect, we had some hellified sex and, man, it was so weird because as we went at each other like it was our first time together, we were both talking about how good and/or bad the other people we had fucked were. I remember lying in bed afterward, totally and completely sated and watching my wife snoring away and thinking why shit had to get to this point; I thought about all the things that could have – and somehow should have – taken place so that (1) she wouldn’t have felt the need (or been so gullible, by her own admission) to cheat on me and (2) I wouldn’t have had that knee-jerk reaction to respond in kind. I lay awake with the sure knowledge that I did not want to go through this again… but also with the knowledge that, yeah, I had fun fucking “P”… but I shouldn’t have had fun; I shouldn’t have further broken the rules just because she did. I wound up staying awake all night because thinking about this whole thing gave me such a headache that nothing I wound up taking could touch.
The next couple of days were business as usual… but not really; there was a tension between us that hadn’t gotten any better… but it hadn’t gotten any worse; I knew that something had to be said about it so that I/we would know what our next steps would be or if we were going to last long enough to have any next steps. We finally started talking about it again and it became clear to me after a few more days of talking that the next time someone came along and enticed her out of her panties, she wasn’t going to tell them no for very long and I told her this, too, because it was the truth as I was beginning to understand it and even when she said that it wouldn’t happen again, I could hear in her voice that she wasn’t very confident. The situation had a devastating effect on us – not even any doubts about that – but instead of building a wall between us, it opened the door for other illicit pleasures and instead of us looking at it as rule breaking, it was more like we were in the beginning stages of making our own rules.
Today, I look back in-depth at that moment and wonder about my behavior (more than hers); I can recall the sheer rage and fury I felt to have my suspicions confirmed and the evil laughter taking place in my mind as I plotted my revenge. In a way, I’m kinda ashamed of myself because I didn’t once stop to think about whether or not my revenge could make a bad situation worse, that I thought – and like a lot of people in this situation might think – that an eye for an eye was the best way to handle the situation. I could and should have been smarter but that doesn’t change the fact that I wasn’t and, given how things turned out later, maybe it was a good thing that I wasn’t as smart as I should and could have been although I knew that violence wasn’t the answer, that’s for damned sure. I used to sit and wonder how things might have been different had I not reacted the way I did… but I gave up trying to work it out because the stark reality had already set in and there was no sense is trying to believe that things would have turned out better – but knowing that they could have been a lot worse.
Sometimes, life really is a bitch and some of the lessons life teaches you can be rather harsh… but as you’ve seen me write hundreds of times, it’s not that you make mistakes – it’s what you do about it that, ultimately, will make all the difference in the world. And things, it seems, always happen for a reason…
Gotta check on dinner now… see ya!