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Subject: How I found out about my cheating wife
From: bert <bert@bert.net>
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Date: Sun, 30 Apr 2006 00:03:19 +0000
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===================
How I found out…..
I could sense that something was different between us, something was not
quite right. After two years of marriage, the newness of our
relationship had worn off, and the excitement of being together had
turned into more of an obligation. There was now a distance between us,
a gap that had somehow grown noticeably greater just in the last few
days.
We were both working long hours at our jobs, trying to stand out as high
performers, and hoping for quick career advancement. The strain of this
sustained effort took its toll on our relationship, and we were most
often too tired to do much more than say goodnight when it was time for
bed.
But all that changed for Michele. One night, she came home from work
much later than usual, and she didn't call, as she often did, to say she
was running late. The difference tonight was her energy level. Instead
of dragging herself into the bathroom and then flopping into bed, she
almost flew through the house, with a smile and a spring in her step.
I got up from the couch and headed to bed, and I heard the shower
running. She usually just pees and puts on her cotton nightshirt before
crashing, but here she was, getting in the shower. I heard her say,
"I'll just be a minute. I just need to wash off a layer of work
stress." She never showered before bed before, except when coming home
from volleyball. Why just tonight, then? Something was not quite
right.
She bounced out of the shower in her robe, and went into her walk-in
closet, emerging in her cotton nightshirt. Things were looking more
like normal again, and she went off to the kitchen for a glass of water
before bed. I was already in bed, but decided to take a quick leak
before sleep. I got up and went into the bathroom, which also contained
the tub/shower. I closed the door, lifted the seat, and started to pee.
I looked up and saw something that made me do a double take. There was
a very sexy pair of panties and a sexy bra hanging from the hook on the
back of the door. "Whose were these?" I thought to myself.
Michele has never been very feminine when it comes to her underwear.
It's always been cotton full briefs and a plain white cotton bra. I
have bought her a couple of sexy things to wear in the past, but she was
not excited by them in the least. She said that she wouldn't even try
them on, and that they would make her look cheap, so she asked me to
return them. "What were you thinking about when you bought those?" she
asked sarcastically. I guess she just wasn't in the right mood for
romance.
Well, my attention was now on these items, hanging there, a foot from my
face. I saw a lacy white underwire bra, front hook, with push up pads.
Hanging in front of it was a pair of white silk panties with a lace
trim. I touched the bra, and felt the push up pad. Yes, it was not my
imagination; there it was, really there. I felt the silk on the
panties, and admired the high cut legs and shiny texture. Then, my eye
caught a glimpse of something else.
I looked more closely at the crotch of the panty, where there was a
cotton shield sewn into the silky panty bottom. There was something
there, not quite the same color as the cotton, and it seemed to have
some sort of texture to it. I felt the crotch with my thumb, and it
felt a little wet and sticky. If I didn't know better, I would have
thought that it was a dab of cum. I gave it a sniff, and smelled a
musky odor that could have been just the residual perspiration from a
long day of wearing the panties, but I wasn't sure what this discharge
was all about. Was she getting another yeast infection? I flinched at
the thought of that, since that would put yet another damper and time-
out on our already too-infrequent sex life.
I got back into bed, and debated whether or not to ask her about the
wardrobe change. She came back from the kitchen, yawning and dragging
her feet, and flopped into bed. She was clearing showing me that she
was tired, and when she does that, there is no room for conversation,
especially for conversation of a possible sexual nature. I let it go
for now as she pulled the covers over herself and rolled over, away from
me, mumbling "G'nite, honey". That was the clear signal to leave her
alone and let her sleep.
When I got up the next morning, I went to take a leak, and noticed that
the bra and panties were no longer hanging on the back of the bathroom
door. Sometime during the night, she must have remembered them, and
slipped out of bed to put them away. Or did I just imagine them there,
or see it in a dream? Who knows?
Nothing else unusual happened along these lines for the next week. I
made an effort to try and watch her undress after she got home from
work. She has always been a bit shy about that, and when she caught me
looking at her undressing, she shut the closet door tight and said, "I
need my privacy, you know." I saw only the outline of her regular
cotton bra under her top, and there were only her cotton panties in the
hamper when I did the wash later that week.
The next week, she had to go out of town on business. On the day she
left, I went to work at my regular time, while she stayed home and
finished packing, since she was headed directly to the airport from
home.
We talked for a few minutes each night while she was gone, and
everything sounded all right. She had an evening flight back, and the
connection into Dallas was late. She made the plane for home just in
time, but her suitcase didn't make the last connection. When she got
home, she said that the airline would deliver the suitcase to the house
tomorrow. We went to right to bed and to sleep, both of us again tired
from a long day.
The next day, things at work went well for me, and I came home a little
early to catch up on chores. I wasn't expecting Michele home for at
least a couple of hours. After I parked the car in the garage, I saw
that next to the back door was her suitcase, where the airline had
dropped it off during the day.
I brought the suitcase in and set it on the bed. Something in my brain
rang a little bell, and my intuition said that I needed to see exactly
what was in the suitcase, based on the little incident with the lingerie
in the bathroom last week.
I opened the suitcase locks with the spare key, and popped the levers to
open the suitcase. Inside, there were her business suits, but under
them, there was something I hadn't seen before. It was a short, black
cocktail dress. I took it out and held it up, and couldn't believe my
eyes. The Michele I know would never even consider wearing something
like this, not even to some high class cocktail party. It was very low
cut, with a built-in bra and a flirty chiffon skirt. Next to it in the
suitcase were a pair of three inch black patent leather heels, and
inside one shoe was a pair of black pantyhose. It certainly looked like
she dressed up for some occasion that she didn't mention. She had never
dressed like that for me, though. It's almost always pants and
pantsuits. I can't even get her to wear a skirt and heels when we go
out , much less a sexy short dress like this one.
I looked a bit further into the suitcase, and found three bra and panty
sets, all of them lacy and sexy. I'd never seen those before, nor had I
ever seen her wear anything feminine and sexy like that. She has always
been comfortable in that boring cotton granny underwear of hers that she
has worn since before we were married. But the most surprising
discovery was a cream-colored silk and lace teddy. I looked at it
closely, and the silk was wrinkled as if it had been slept in. Had she
actually worn this? My fingers moved to the snap crotch, and I brought
my hands to my nose and smelled the gusset. It had the strong, pungent
odor of female body fluid, and my imagination ran wild with the thought
that she had somehow gotten really aroused while wearing this teddy, and
got it wet it with her juices.
I felt confused and suspicious by these discoveries, but I knew that I
just needed to put things back like they were, re-lock the suitcase and
pretend like I had no knowledge of any of this possibly incriminating
evidence. So, I replaced the items, and left the locked suitcase on the
bed for her to unpack when she got home.
I figured that I would hang around the bedroom once she got home, and
see how she was going to handle the unpacking. When she got home an
hour later, she saw the suitcase on the bed, but she said that she was
too worn out from yesterday's trip and a long day today to feel like
unpacking tonight. She set the suitcase in the corner by the bed, and
got ready for sleep. I watched her through the gap in the partially
closed door to her walk-in closet, and saw that when she took off her
pantsuit, she had on the same old cotton underwear that she always wore.
So, something certainly was different about what was going on today
compared to what went on during her trip.
She slept late the next morning, and I had to get to work, so I missed
out on the suitcase unpacking. That afternoon, she called me at work
and said she needed to stay an hour or two extra, and asked me to hold
up making dinner until she got home. I left work at my usual time, and
got home to find my curiosity still aroused by the suitcase contents.
I went to her walk-in closet and began poking around in the mess of
boxes, plastic storage bins and gym bags that were in there. She was an
athlete, and had several gym bags for her volleyball, running, softball,
tennis, etc. I looked in a few boxes with no success, then thought to
look in a gym bag that I hadn't seen her use in a while. I pulled it
out from under a pile of folded sweat pants, and unzipped the top. I
pulled up the grey sweat pants that were on the very top of the
contents. What I saw then was difficult to comprehend at first, but
then it hit me: here was her stash.
There were several sets of bras and panties all neatly folded on one
side of the bag. I pulled out a bra, and saw that it was a demi-cup
push-up that must have barely covered her nipples. The matching panties
were French cut, and were made of silk with a lace trim. Under this set
I had just removed was the white bra/panty set that I saw hanging on the
back of the bathroom door a week ago, judging by my recollection of its
color and style. Wow! I would have never thought that she would ever
own this sort of sexy lingerie. Of course, my suspicions were raised
even further now, since now I knew that she was clearly hiding this
stuff from me. I knew there must be a reason for this sort of
deception, and it must be about some wilder side of her that she was
hiding from me.
The rest of the contents of the bag were along the same lines: two lacy
teddies (neither one was the cream color that I had seen in the suitcase
the day before) and several pairs of expensive pantyhose (Hanes Ultra
Sheer), still in their store boxes. Also in the bag was one pair of
black three inch heels with ankle straps, and the same black pumps I saw
in the suitcase before. No sign of the dress or lingerie from the
suitcase, though.
I opened a plastic keeper in the corner, removed a layer of bed sheets
lying on the top of its contents, and there was the rest of it. I saw
the black dress, the black hose, the cream color teddy and two bra/panty
sets. This must be the dirty laundry stash. I'll bet she runs this
over to the cleaners or does some wash while I'm not around. Quite a
little plan she has going here. I put everything back in its place and
went to the kitchen to get a beer, and to sit and think about this all
might mean, and what to do next.
My jealous thoughts turned to spying on her. While she worked late at
least one day a week, she also played sports on other nights. I
imagined that her regular sports schedule would allow her time to do
things other than sports if she chose to use it as a cover. Her regular
volleyball night was on Thursday, so I had an idea.
I'm a pretty sharp technical person with electronics, so I went out and
bought a miniature wireless microphone and a hand-held scanner. I tried
it out, and found, as I suspected, that the scanner's superior
sensitivity allowed me to hear the wireless microphone clearly at a
range of over a block. I thought that the two small hearing aid
batteries should power the microphone for at least one day's worth of
monitoring.
I got up early on Thursday morning, and went to the kitchen to perform
my task. I took an Exacto knife, and carefully slit the lining of her
purse. I turned the microphone on, and inserted it into the gap in the
lining. I used a small piece of duct tape to hold it firmly in place,
and a piece of double faced carpet tape to close up the small slit that
I had made. I turned on the scanner, and tested the channel. It was
working fine, and the microphone was placed high enough in the purse to
pick up the slightest sound I made. I was ready.
That afternoon, I came home from work as usual. I called her at work,
and she said that volleyball was still on for tonight, and that she
would be going out for a beer or two afterwards, so don't wait up. I
told her to have fun, and that I was going to run to the grocery store
for a few things, then come home and watch some TV. She said goodbye
and we hung up. Then I got into action.
I drove to her work, and parked near her office building. I was still a
few blocks way, but close enough to where I could still see her car. I
waited until she came out. She walked to her car, got in, but did not
head toward the Rec Center , where the volleyball games were held.
Instead, she drove off in the opposite direction, leaving the office
complex and heading into a residential area.
I followed at some distance, and at one point lost sight of her. I
thought I saw her car turn into a side street several blocks up, and I
took a chance that it was her. I passed by the street and turned at the
next block. I pulled over and switched on the scanner. The signal was
strong, so I knew I was close by. Over the scanner, I heard her car
door slam, and I also heard the unusual sound (for her) of high heels
clicking on the concrete. I didn't see her closely as she left the
office, so I didn't notice if she had changed clothes there before
leaving. I suspected that she did, now.
She continued walking for another minute or so. I supposed that she
parked intentionally a distance away from her destination. Then I saw
her, a block away, on the same street that I was parked on now. I
panicked, and wondered what to do next. If she got much closer, she
might recognize my car, even though it was a common make and color. But
just then, she turned and walked up a driveway and to the back of a
house at the far end of the block. I could see her clearly enough to
tell that she was NOT wearing what she wore to work today (an ugly brown
pantsuit), but instead was wearing something I hadn't seen on her
before: a short black skirt, with a dark blouse and a suit jacket to
match the skirt. She also had on black hose and those strappy heels
that I had discovered earlier in the week..
I heard a door open and close, and heard a kiss, then another, then a
moan, almost like purring. He said that she looked great tonight, and
she replied that she didn't have a lot of time tonight, so could he just
pour some wine and then we can get to it. There was no conversation
after that, and she didn't say his name, so I had no clue as to who he
was. There was something that sounded like more kissing and touching,
and then I heard them walk across what sounded like a wood floor and
heard a door squeak open. It was clear that she had carried her purse
with her into what I assumed was the bedroom, since the noise of their
movements over the wireless microphone was still loud and clear.
It sounded like they almost broke the bed when they fell onto it, and I
heard her start to moan and breath a little heavy. She said, "Oh, touch
me, touch me, baby!" and he replied, "I love it when you wear stockings
for me."
"That's not all I wore for you tonight," she responded. There were more
kissing and breathing noises, combined with the rustling sounds of
clothes coming off. He must have been impressed by whatever she had on,
since he said next, "Oh, baby, you look so hot in that!" The bed
creaked a little more, and then he said "God, you're so wet!" She was
breathing hard now, and said, in a breathless voice, "Fuck me, fuck me
now!"
There was no more talking after that. She was moaning, keeping time
with every stroke. After about five solid minutes of hearing him slap
his balls against her pussy, I heard her begin the little grunting,
choking sounds she makes when she comes. Then, she surprised the hell
out of me by vocalizing her orgasm. She never has said a word with me,
just a few grunts and she was done. But with this guy, she was
uninhibited, and cried out over and over again, "Oh, fuck me, fuck me,
fuck me, oh, oh, oh!"
I was flushed, and I found myself with a stiff cock in my pants from
listening to my otherwise not very sensual wife lose herself to this
guy's cock. I was breathing hard and a little dizzy, and I had what I
think was a panic attack. I shut off the scanner, started the car, and
drove home, shaking from the shock.
I got home somehow without getting into a traffic accident, and went to
the bar and got a lowball glass and poured about three fingers of Jack
Daniels. I sat in my chair, stunned. I sipped the bourbon, and
wondered what to do when she came home. Unable to cope with this any
more, I just went into the bedroom, got out of my clothes and went to
bed.
I was awakened some time later by her arrival at home. She was trying
to be quiet, but I was a light sleeper. She entered the bedroom, wearing
her volleyball uniform and carrying her gym bag. I stirred and sat up
when she turned on the closet light. I asked, "How was volleyball?"
She replied, as if well rehearsed, "Oh, we lost, and we went out for a
beer afterwards. I need a shower." She put the gym bag away and went
into the bathroom. I watched the door close, then heard the water
start. I jumped out of bed, and went to the closet. Her gym bag was
there, near the rear of the closet, beneath her shoe shelves. I pulled
it out and undid the zipper.
Her brown pantsuit was on top in the bag. I removed it, and there was
the black skirt, blouse and jacket I saw her wearing on the street. I
pushed that aside, and underneath it I discovered a black bustier,
complete with garters. It was a front zip, with stays all around and
underwire push-up bra cups. I picked it up, and immediately smelled the
perspiration from it. My hand went inside it, and I could feel the
dampness in the fabric from her sweat. She must have gotten quite a
workout, judging by how damp and smelly it was. Then I saw the black
nylon stockings. I remembered her lover commenting about the stockings,
and I guess the bustier was her little surprise for him. The black
stockings were made of very sheer nylon, and I noticed some darkness
around the thicker stocking tops where the garters attached. I felt the
dark area, and it was wet and sticky. I brought it up to my nose, and
recognized the unmistakable smell of a man's cum. His juices must have
run down her legs and onto the stocking tops.
Here I sat, in her closet, stunned, confronted by the undeniable
evidence of her infidelity. I quickly regained my senses, realizing
that she would be out of the shower very soon. I carefully put the
items back in the bag, placed it back under the shoe shelf, and exited
the closet. I just got back under the covers when I heard the water
shut off.
I tried hard to get my pulse and respiration back to normal before she
came out of the bathroom. Thank goodness that only the closet light was
on, and not a bed lamp, or my flushed condition might have given me
away. Anyway, she opened the bathroom door and walked back into her
closet wearing a towel. She changed into her nightshirt, turned out the
closet light and climbed into bed.
"Long day, good night, honey," she whispered as she rolled over and
fluffed her pillow for sleep. I pretended to be asleep and said nothing
in reply.
I felt sorry for myself. We hadn't had sex in two months, and when we
did, it wasn't all that good. She wasn't much into foreplay, so she
never really allowed herself to get her motor going. Instead, she had
me use lubricated condoms (I guess because she never got very wet) and
then just sort of laid there and allowed me to pump her until I came.
The last few times, I even had to fake that, since it just wasn't
working for me either. Yet, I had heard this same woman, not three
hours ago, slamming her pussy up against a pair of pounding balls, and
crying out with a crushing orgasm. Where had we gone wrong? What have
I failed to do to keep her? My overloaded brain forced me into a fitful
night's sleep.
The next morning, it was as if nothing unusual had happened. I showered,
dressed and left for work, leaving her still in bed. I was lucky to
have another easy day at work, because I was totally distracted by the
events of last night. When she called in mid-afternoon to say she would
be working late again, I just OK and see you later, like some sort of
zombie. I left work early, since I wasn't getting anything done, and
headed for home.
I got in the door, poured myself a drink, and sat down. After a few
minutes, my curiosity got going again. I was wondering what she did
with last night's clothes, and if there was any other evidence that I
had yet to discover.
I headed to the closet, now more confident in what I might find there.
I looked for the gym bag under the pile of sweats, and it was still
there. I got it out, and opened it up. Inside, I found both pairs of
high heels, and all of the lacy underwear that I had previously seen.
All three teddies were now in there as well, so it looks as if she had
time to do her wash since her trip. I looked up at her rack of suits,
and pawed through her dry cleaning bagged items. There, carefully
tucked under a suitcoat, was the little black dress, now cleaned and
hung up. The black skirt and coat she wore last night was also hung up
there, mixed in with her other work clothes. Since all of the items
seemed to be accounted for, I was assuming that tonight she really was
working late, and not off somewhere with him.
I poked around a bit more, but did not find any other hiding places or
unusual items. Finally, turned toward the plastic keeper, where I knew
the soiled clothes were hidden. I pulled it out, and took a big breath
and let out a sigh. I popper the cover, and removed the bed sheets
again. There it was, the black bustier that I saw briefly last night
when she got home. Next to it were the black nylon stockings as well.
I took the bustier and stockings out, and brought them onto the bed,
where I could see them better in the light from the window.
I examined the bustier, taking my time now, since Michele wasn't due
home for several hours. It still smelled strongly of perspiration, and
it was still damp on the inside. On the outside, in front, a few inches
from the bottom, there was a large dark area. I felt it, and smelled
it, and I knew at once that it was a cum stain. Up near the space right
between the bra cups, there was yet another spot, and it too was easily
identified as another cum stain. That bitch! She would never, ever
let me cum on her when we made love! She said it was nasty. Now, here
was the proof that she not only permitted it, but must have encouraged
it.
I looked next at the stockings, and spread them out across the
bedspread. I could see the drip lines on the stockings, how his cum
must have run down her legs as she stood up to take off the stockings
and bustier. I had a sudden flash, and I went back in her closet to the
hamper. Her volleyball uniform was there near the top, and right under
it was a Lycra sports brief that she usually wore under the tight
fitting volleyball shorts to firm up her tummy a little and look good in
the shorts. I lifted the sports brief up and out of the hamper, and
returned to the bed.
In the strong sunlight, I could see what I had feared I would find. In
the crotch of the brief, which she wore home as a part of her disguise
after her tryst, was a large, sticky mass of cum. Judging by the
amount, the guy must have pumped her full of his seed more than once,
and then it flowed out as she was driving home. I guess she didn't
think to hide this brief, since she probably figured that any wetness
might have dried up long before wash day, which was several days away.
Looking at this cum-strewn mess, I found myself getting very aroused. I
touched my hard cock through the fabric of my pants, and I felt a rush
of hormones flood through my blood. What came over me next is something
that I can't explain, but something that I suppose made sense, given the
energy-charged circumstances and my extended period of Michele-imposed
celibacy.
I found myself getting out of my clothes, and standing next to the bed,
naked. I need to add that Michele was a rather large and big-boned
woman, and in many ways about the same size as me. I took the bustier
and wrapped it around my chest. I started the zipper at the bottom,
sucked in my tummy and chest, and pulled it up tight. I could feel the
stays in the bustier holding tightly to my sides, chest and tummy.
Then I sat down on the bed, and took up a stocking.
Having had some experience with stockings and garters from previous
girlfriends before I was married, I knew how to roll up the stocking
until I could just get my toes into it, then gently roll it all the way
up my leg and thigh. It fit surprisingly well. After doing the same to
the other stocking, I then stood and attached the garters. My cock at
this point was made out of wood and standing straight up.
To complete the indignity, I picked up the sports brief, bent over (not
an easy thing to do in the bustier) and stepped into it. I pulled it up
over the stockings, all the way up to my waist, and I could feel the
wetness of his cum on the bottom of my balls.
I fell back onto the bed, on my back. I pushed the sports brief to one
side and extracted my hard cock. All I could imagine at that point was
how she must have felt, with him mounted on her, in her, pumping her
pussy and slapping his groin into her hot clit. I could hear her crying
out again, saying, "Oh, oh, fuck me, fuck me, oh, oh!". I had my cock
firmly in my hands now, and I was stroking it like the madman I was.
The sensory overload from the bustier and its stays, the nylon
stockings, the Lycra panty and the wet cum at the base of my balls drove
me into a frenzy. I was breathing hard, getting dizzy, then I exploded
into my hand, and the cum shot out and over onto the stockings. It was
by far the most powerful orgasm that I had ever experienced up to that
point in my life. I felt completely spent, and I just lay there, with
my cum-covered hands still gripping my cock.
I came back to reality eventually, and looked over what I had just done.
Instead of feeling guilty about wearing her clothes and using her
infidelity as a stimulant, I felt like it was a payback for what she had
done to me, and I deserved the pleasure I got from it. I got up, went
to the sink, and began to clean up after myself. I took off the sports
brief, then the stockings, then unzipped the bustier. I gathered it all
up and replaced it, back in the plastic storage container where it
belonged. Then, I took a long, hot shower and scrubbed myself all over
in an attempt to cleanse myself of the pain and guilt.