Inexorable Consequences

Note to readers:

This isn't a tale of revenge. I've come across stories here of wives straying, getting involved in a steamy, exciting affair, their husbands are aware but powerless--or unwilling--to intervene. Perhaps telling himself he relishes her newfound happiness and sexual freedom? Or maybe he feels trapped, facing psychological blackmail, coercion, or the threat of exposure as a public disgrace or a scorned spouse, a humiliated man? Meanwhile, his wife's relentless emotional manipulation--"I love you, I'll always come back to you, I'll always be yours"--clashes with the reality of her newfound passion she's discovered in another's embrace. She might even believe her own words, but I'm skeptical. More likely, she cherishes the lifestyle--her house, her car, and the freedom enabled by a compliant, devoted partner who sustains her while she seeks sexual thrills outside of her marriage. The husband clings to her declarations of love, tells himself he supports her happiness, all while desperate to hold onto the remnants of his former life and keep the woman he married. Together, wife and lover mock the prison he's trapped in, once her cherished husband, now reduced to a pitiable fool.

These stories may not start that way, but they seem to end there.

Not this one.

This tale was actually inspired by several recent news articles. It is fiction, however, with all the characters being 18 or older.

*****

Chapter 1

I sat at the table, sipping my morning coffee. The sounds of playful copulation filtered down from my own marital bedroom to the kitchen, where I sat. The giggling and sensual squeals of my wife, the grunts and coarse comments from her fresh and exciting young lover. I closed my eyes for a moment and recalled how I arrived here.

It started with a troubling phone call. I was at work, and my cell rang. It was from the high school where my wife, Beverly, taught part-time and where my youngest son, Nathan, was finishing up his senior year. Concerned, I excused myself from my meeting and took the call.

"Um, hey. I should not be calling you, but I felt it was necessary to inform you that a complaint has been filed against your wife for inappropriate behavior with a student. She was warned, and the student moved to a different class," the voice said. "You need to do something".

"Who is this?" I asked. "What was she accused of?"

The line went dead. I called back, and the number went to the main office. I spoke to the receptionist, then the head principal, but was informed that personnel reports were confidential. They didn't know who placed the call.

The rest of that evening was fixed in my brain, in great detail.

At dinner that night, I waited until Nate left to go work on homework (video games more likely) and casually asked, "Has anything exciting happened at work today?"

Bev was my age, nearly 40, but fit and sexy as ever, with her powerful legs from our frequent tennis games and her slim waist, lithe and elegant, even with her large breasts. Looking incredible in her tight tennis whites, somehow even more so in the colorful sundresses she favored at this time of year. Light brown hair, with bleached highlights from the sun. I was fit, lean, and brown-haired, nearly 6 feet tall, but I was the lucky one; she was my world.

Bev came and stood behind me, putting her arms around me. I'd noticed she'd been much more affectionate these past few months, as Nate's graduation got closer. We'd be empty-nesters soon. I was looking forward to starting this part of our lives together, all of our sacrifices, and hard work as a couple, finally paying off.

"No, just the usual pre-graduation chaos, last-minute rush, I guess," she sighed. She held me close, then whispered into my ear, "I'm looking forward to getting Nate off to college, then having the house to ourselves! Oh, the things we'll do!"

I smiled at the alluring suggestion, my misgivings about that mysterious phone call almost forgotten.

Just then, Nate came bounding down the stairs and out the front door. "Chad! Over here," we heard him call. Chad was Nate's bud; the last half of his senior year, they seemed inseparable. It was an odd friendship. Nate was the only one of his brothers who showed little interest in sports, being into books and video games. I played baseball and soccer in college and was eager to interest Nate in any latter activity. It wasn't until Chad appeared that Nate finally got a position on the school's track and field team, to my relief.

At least it got him out of the house a few afternoons each week.

Chad was a few inches taller than Nate, and where Nate was a little stocky and dark-haired, Chad was lean, wiry, and sported a mop of curly blond hair, a persistent tan, and green eyes. I thought his hands, feet, and shoulders seemed too big for his body, but he was friendly, and Nate had him over constantly. Unlike Nate, he was a mediocre student. He had been held back a year in junior high, so he was older than his peers at 19. He didn't play school sports either. Instead, he and Nate played Frisbee golf, hacky sack, and other time-wasting activities. I recognized Chad's "type" from my time in the Army: a resentment of authority and an overall mental laziness, immature, self-important. Not a bad kid, but the discipline of a team sport or even boot camp would have done him wonders.

We overheard Chad tell Nate he had a new Frisbee golf disk, and they ran off to the park to try it out. Bev whispered in my ear, "They'll be gone for at least an hour. Do you want a warm-up for later tonight?" We were in our room at the speed of lightning. I was on my back, my pants hurriedly kicked off, while Bev worked my dick with her mouth. She never used to offer oral sex, but recently it seemed she could not get enough, and I was too much of a gentleman to complain. Afterwards, I'd have a few hours to recover before bedtime, then Bev and I would share a passionate evening together.

That's what usually happened, these past few weeks at least.

A little while later, Bev and I lay together comfortably. I was just about to take a nap when my phone buzzed. Nate texted us that he was walking to the sporting goods store to buy a new Frisbee disk like Chad had. Looking at my watch, I estimated he'd be an hour, returning around 9 p.m., and I texted him back to see if he and Chad needed a ride. Nate replied, "Yes, please, just me. Chad has already left."

I shrugged. Nate was fine on his own. I heard Bev's phone buzz, and I assumed Nate had sent the same message to her. She kissed me and said, "See you when you get back. I love you!"

On the way back, Nate asked to be dropped off at the park to practice with his new disk. It would be dark soon, so I tossed him my keys and said, "You drive home. I could use a walk." Nate grinned gleefully at the chance to drive, catching the keys in midair. I smiled and started to jog home.

Walking up to the house, I heard a noise. I approached my detached garage curiously, slowly, seeing motion in the window. As I got closer, I heard Bev's voice.

"Oh, god! Fuck me! Harder! Yes!"

I crept up to the window and looked inside.

My wife, Bev, was face down, bent over my vintage Mustang, her colorful, red and orange sundress pushed up over her waist, her pink panties on the floor, her legs spread, every energetic thrust lifting her feet off the floor.

"Yes! I love that cock! Fuck me!" She begged.

Chad was on top of her, his shorts pulled down over his ass, one hand under her dress holding her breast, the other holding his cell phone up, while he grinned into the lens.

Taking selfies, fucking my wife.

"Do you want this cock?" He sneered at her, driving it deeper.

"Oh, fuck yes! Yes!" she replied, panting and breathless. She started to cry out with each thrust.

"Are you coming on my cock?" he asked.

"Ug, ug, oh! Fuck me! Yes, make me come!" she pleaded in between screams and gasps.

"Come for me, married whore! Whose pussy is that?" he demanded.

"I'm yours! This is your pussy! Fuck me, please!" she cried, her climax ripping through her.

"Tell me I fuck you better than your husband!" he demanded. "He can't make you come like I do!!"

Bev tried to catch her breath, but Chad's pounding was relentless. "Say it!"

Bev replied with a flood of praise for Chad. "I love your cock, Chad! It's so big! So hard! You fuck me so deep! Oh, god, yes! You fuck me so hard! I feel you fill me up! God, my pussy feels so good when you fuck me!"

"And your husband?" he spat. "Has he ever made you come?"

"No! I come on your cock! Fuck me!" Her body shook as she spoke.

Chad stopped, holding his cock so just the tip penetrated my wife. "Say it, say what I want to hear," he urged her. He hovered with his phone near her face.

"No!" she cried out. "Don't stop! Please fuck me! OK! I only come with you! On your big cock! It fills me up; your cock feels so good inside me! So much better than my husband! So much deeper! My pussy stretches out for your cock! Please let me come! I need to come on your big cock! I don't even feel his dick inside me anymore! I can't come on his pathetic cock!"

"I don't feel anything with him! Please! Fuck me!"

Satisfied, Chad started pounding her vigorously until her staccato screams merged into one long desperate shriek, her body shaking.

"Take that cum, you whore! You married whore!" he taunted.

Chad grunted and tensed up, holding his body rigid for a moment, before relaxing. Quickly, while she lay there panting and in a daze, he pulled out of my wife and stood up, his throbbing cock exposed, still dripping a sticky rope of semen off the end. No condom, I noticed. It was surprisingly long, thick, and heavy for such a young man. He disrespectfully wiped it off on her dress and then tugged up his shorts, pushing his phone into his back pocket.

Chad then helped Bev up. She stood on shaky legs but took his head into her hands and kissed him. Seeing her kiss him was somehow more painful than watching her get fucked. It made everything more real, more devastating, as if she had feelings for him--this wasn't just a physical affair. Then I saw her pick her panties off the floor and turn to leave, glancing to ensure our family car wasn't in the driveway before walking up to the house.

I don't know how long I stood there watching, stunned, but I suddenly realized I wasn't breathing. My chest was painfully tight, my face flushed, and I felt dizzy. I sat down on the sidewalk, my back against the garage, trying to catch my breath.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Chad starting down the path back to the park, where I had just come from. He turned and saw me, stopping in his tracks. Then, he grinned and came over, brazenly sitting next to me.

I looked over at him, scowling. I could have easily killed him, right there. Reached over, grabbed his skinny neck, and twisted. Grabbed him by his blond curls and pounded his skull into the concrete until there was nothing left. There are so many ways to do it.

"I guess you saw everything, huh?" he started, calmly. "Don't worry, it'll be our secret, as long as you don't do anything crazy," he added.

I glared at him. My army training allowed me to remain stoic. My face relaxed, giving away nothing. People often dislike silence and will eventually fill it, confessing freely.

"Your wife is a fine fuck. Her pussy is really tight!" he told me boldly, then grabbed his crotch and added, "If you've got the right equipment!' he smirked.

"It's not all bad for you. Bev tells me I really get her motor running, you're in for a hot time tonight!" he quipped smugly.

Chad casually leaned back, looking at the clouds floating by. "She loves to fuck! Right? I mean, she needs it. She's crazy for my cock! Ever since that day at school, she wants it more and more! And I aim to give her as much as she wants!" he said, "As often as I can! I mean, that pussy is too good to give up!"

He squeezed my knee playfully. "Better me than some stranger, right?" he got up, turned to help me up, then loped off down the path, calling. "See you soon, Mr. Watson!"

I stood there, stunned.

Catching her cheating, I could handle. We lived on a military base long enough that lonely wives were caught fairly often, women unprepared for the stress and challenge of a soldier's life, seeking comfort in another man. Eager young men are always ready to take advantage of opportunities. I could have beaten him up for what I caught him doing, spent my 30 days in jail, he'd learn his lesson, and life would go on.

No, for me it was worse than that.

This was not an "I got drunk at a party" or "I ran into an old flame at the high school reunion" fling. This was "He fucks me better than you and has been fucking me for weeks." I just heard her climax with him. She made sounds I've never heard her make before--uncontrolled, passionate, almost involuntary sounds--while she was in the throes of ecstasy. Begging for his cock, pleading for him to get rough, the way she relished his vulgar and sordid name-calling and teasing, and her begging for more. Giving him more than she ever gave me, as she told him over and over.

That was hard to hear. The wife I thought I knew.

But the worst part was her words about me. I heard her debase me, degrade me--her husband--and demean and humiliate me in front of a youth our son's age. Those words she said, she offered up freely. She shamed me as her partner, as her husband, to a young man, a stranger, a nothing.

That felt like a knife in my heart. The words Bev said echoed in my ears, ripping my soul into pieces. It didn't matter if they were true or not. She had uttered them, out loud, to her lover. Listening to her, I felt like I'd died, like I was a hollow corpse. We'd been married almost 25 years now, and everything I thought I knew, thought I loved, was betrayed, exposed as false. I felt as if my skin had been ripped off.

I knew I should confront her and put a stop to this immediately, but my head was spinning. I needed time to think. I saw him take pictures. Did she know?

Just then, I heard Nate pull up in our car. I put on a brave face and met him at the door. We went inside, and by that time Bev had cleaned up and changed into a clean blue and white dress, I noticed. The three of us talked and played a board game together until bedtime.

As if nothing had happened.

I closed our bedroom door and started to take off my clothes. Bev came over and wrapped her arms around me, but when she touched me, I involuntarily recoiled.

"I've been looking forward to this all day," she cooed into my ear, her hands reaching down to squeeze my ass. I shook her off.

"Um, I think I'm coming down with something. Maybe tomorrow night, OK?" I said, then I crawled under the covers and closed my eyes. I could tell she was still standing there, maybe a little stunned herself. It's not often a husband rejects sex with his wife, right? After a few minutes, I heard her sigh and turn the lights out as she pulled the covers over herself.

She turned to me and asked, playfully, "Your birthday is less than a week away. Nate will be in college at that overnight for new students, so we have the house to ourselves. Maybe I have something special in mind?"

I grunted sleepily, replying ironically, "Are you keeping secrets, Bev? I love your surprises." She leaned over and kissed me, saying, "I love you too!"

She tossed and turned for a while but eventually became still. I could not sleep, my mind racing with so many questions. When did this start? How often did they sleep together? Did she still love me? What if people find out? What do I do now?

There were other things, things that gave me chills while I tried to sleep. What if this got out? What would our families think? What would Nate and our other children think of her, of me? My friends, my work associates, neighbors? This could be a huge scandal, and it might follow Nate for years, haunting him, ruining his life. Oh, Bev, what were you thinking? Now Chad knew I'd seen them and done nothing to stop them, AND he had pictures! What if he tried to blackmail us? The more I thought about it, the more I felt trapped. Caged. Shamed by her wantonness. Cornered like an animal.

I replayed the event over and over in my head.

What did he do to her? Why did she seem to risk everything to be with him? She looked so ecstatic, so exhilarated when they had sex, and why didn't I have that effect on her?

That answer was the most irrelevant to the situation, but perhaps the most troubling to me. I felt sleepless too, as if I had to do something. I carefully got up, so as not to wake Bev.

I opened my laptop and checked our wifi router logs. I knew the devices that Bev, Nate, and I had, so I checked for connections today and easily found Chad's phone ID number and address. I searched for each time it connected to our wifi, then checked the dates and times.

There it was. His phone and Bev's were alone in the house when I was at work or on days when Nate had track practice. They had been together frequently, going back almost 3 months.

Shit.

It also seemed they had been texting each other for the same period. I could see the addresses but not the messages. As I examined the router records, I noticed that Chad's phone was also transmitting a large amount of data to one other address in particular. It was easy to do a reverse lookup. I opened the website. My jaw hung open.

"My_hot_married_whore" dot com.

It was a paid membership adult website. Trembling, I looked at a few of the free teaser pictures and videos.

It was her, my wife, Bev. Her face was mostly hidden, but I recognized her. Her voice. I identified our house, our bedroom, the basement, her classroom, and other familiar places.

I'd heard her audio already, on the video clips, the things Chad had her say. He'd also added captions to the still photos:

"Does your husband know you're a whore?"

"It would be a shame if your family saw you sucking my cock!"

"What would they say at church when they saw you come for me?"

"If you stop fucking me, I'll show everybody what a whore you are!"

Did Bev know about this? I checked the logs, and I didn't see her devices connecting to it, so she wasn't aware of Chad's hidden operation. Maybe his motivation for seducing her?

I felt drained, weary. Before I closed my laptop, I did a criminal search on Chad.

Some petty stuff, but a mostly clean record.

This could really hurt my family if it became public.

That was a few days ago.

Chapter 2

A distant noise from the driveway brought me out of my daze, my recollections, into the present, the morning after my birthday.

Quietly, I opened the kitchen door and invited them in. I indicated that they should take a seat and wait, and poured them both some hot steaming coffee. In silence, we listened to the sounds from my bedroom until it eventually grew quiet. It will be over soon.

As I stared into my coffee, I recalled the events leading up to last night.

Bev has planned a lovely dinner for my birthday, followed by a comedy show, then a late-night cruise along the river. We would hold hands, walk together, and talk about the future. It was going to be a hopeful and remarkable evening. I was looking forward to it, almost forgetting my troubles for a while. Almost.

I knew Chad was meeting with Bev more frequently now. Nate was still unaware of what his friend was up to.

Bev had no idea I knew. Chad was getting bolder but still kept our secret. I checked my wifi router daily, and sure enough, his phone was at my house while I was at work or out somewhere with Nate. After I'd caught them, I lost any interest in sex with Bev. Each time Bev came on to me, I made an excuse to avoid her. I could not keep that up forever.

A day or so later, Chad appeared in my garage one morning. I'd taken the day off to take my car in for service. Nate was at school.