Her tears fell again. She was not trying to manipulate him. She knew the answer would crush any man’s masculinity. She knew he would realize she had been lying to him for years, and honesty was paramount to him.
She nodded her head, unable to speak.
“So you faked every orgasm for over ten years when we made love. Every penetrative orgasm.”
She nodded again, “But it does not matter! I love you! I did it because I love you!” She was not shouting, but her voice and emotion was elevated.
Jeremiah simply watched them for a moment while he considered the situation. They grew even more uncomfortable as a result, but he was in no hurry.
Feeling her position even less sensuous and increasingly obscene… she felt having her ass and genitalia up in the air, in front of her lover’s face, only made the insult to her husband worse, Donna asked, “Can I move now? Can I get dressed?”
Jeremiah merely shook his head no.
Another minute and he finally spoke, “I am going downstairs. I will sleep down there tonight. I have some thinking to do. You appear to be closer to this guy than your husband. So, you two stay up here. Sleep, fuck, I don’t care. But I want you both here in the morning so we can talk.”
David asked, “Is that a good idea?”
“I am not going to hurt you. Hurt feelings are not worth prison.”
David sought another out, “What if we get hungry?”
“Eat her.” With that, Jeremiah turned and descended the stairs.
Jeremiah paused at the base of the stairs. He considered how to spend the rest of the night so he could decide the next phase of his life. He decided he would spend the rest of the night in his study. Plenty of books, a comfortable couch, a computer, and a small fridge / freezer where he kept his liquor.
He went to the kitchen and collected a few snacks and nonalcoholic drinks. In the study, he shut and locked the door. He took a bottle of Beam from the freezer, poured himself a healthy dose, and sat heavily into a leather chair.
He exhaled and sighed deeply. “Fuck.”
Taking out his cell phone, he sent a text to Donna. *I will be in my study. You and your man have access to the kitchen. Do not harass me until after 9 AM tomorrow.”
Donna immediately sent back, *Thank you. He is not MY man. YOU are my man!!*
Jeremiah never saw her response. He had already turned his phone off.
He stared out the window as the turn his day had taken played out repeatedly in his mind. He was determined to maintain his stoicism in the face of such drama and stress, but it was not easy.
The absolute bliss on his wife’s face while she experienced waves of orgasms from that monster cock ploughing into her, the way her body responded by trembling and convulsing uncontrollably stayed in his vision.
He realized he knew very well what she looked and felt like when she faked an orgasm. NOW he knew what she looked like when she had real, bonafide, soul wrenching orgasms. Even if the orgasms he gave her with cunnilingus were authentic as she swore, they had been nothing like what he had witnesses upstairs. Which meant, he supposed, he would NEVER know what she felt like having those violent orgasms.
FUCK.
He sipped his whiskey. He wanted to get blind drunk. He also did not want to get drunk. He wanted to be in control. So, he sipped.
He was experiencing a plethora of conflicting emotions and thoughts. He was angry. He was sad. He was envious. He was aroused. She had lied to him for years. Even if it had been a kindness, it was a betrayal. She had enjoyed much more pleasure than he could provide with another man. Some damn punk. And that SOB got to feel her as she lost it completely in ecstasy.
He wanted to go upstairs and throw that dick out of the window to his death. He wanted to somehow learn how to make her feel that way with him, not big dick. He also knew neither was going to happen. He wanted to leave. He wanted to watch. As difficult as this was for him, he did not want to deprive her of the sex he had seen her getting.
He was flushed with frustration, he was hard as a rock and leaking pre-cum. He was determined not to masturbate, because it felt like some kind of admission of defeat.
Fuck.
There was a knock at the door, followed by Donna’s sweet voice. “Honey, we… I mean… I ordered pizza. Do you want some?”
He stood and walked to the freezer, refilled his tumbler, then returned to the comfy leather chair. He took another sip and remained silent.
“Honey? You need to eat.”
He took another sip and remained silent. He told her to give him time. Of course she had to push it. He thought “fucking controlling bitch” but then admonished himself. She was trying to suck up. He remained silent.
“I’ll leave some in the fridge if you want some… we’re going back upstairs so you don’t have to see us… ME…” He heard her sob. He remained quiet.
He had brought enough snacks into the study with him. Yes, he wanted the pizza. But… fuck her. Fuck them. He took another sip.
Eventually he drifted off to sleep.
Sometime during the night he was awakened by her orgasmic screams and the bed squeaking upstairs. Apparently she did not feel so badly about her infidelity to stop fucking the guy. The sounds went on for over an hour. He thought his dick would burst it was so hard. He was not opposed to masturbation, he did occasionally. But he’d be damned if he was going to jack off for relief while listening to someone else fucking his wife.
Morning came and he was again awakened by his wife’s voice. “Honey, we made breakfast. I mean, I made breakfast…”
She tried to start a conversation while they ate. Jeremiah held his hand up to silence her. So, they ate in silence. The breakfast was good. Jeremiah could not place what was different about the scrambled eggs, but it was obvious Donna had not prepared them. Hers were good, but these were better. Great. Big dick could cook too.
Thankfully they were all clothed. But he did notice Donna had been correct. He did not normally notice men’s junk, but there was no concealing that fucking trouser snake.
After breakfast he quietly cleaned his own dishes, poured himself another cup of coffee, then went and sat in the recliner in the living room. When Donna and David joined him, they found the only place for them to sit was together on the couch. It was a symbolic placement that Donna did not want, but Jeremiah had ensured happened. The lovers sat pensively waiting to find out what he had to say.
Jeremiah had tried to expend any emotion in private. So again, he spoke flatly, business like. He addressed his wife, “Before we discuss anything else, I need to know whether there is any point. Since obviously I am odd man out, I need to know if your affair is a precursor to leaving me. Are you planning to divorce me? If so, there is not really anything to talk about.”
A tear ran down Donna’s cheek. She spoke softly, “You are not the odd man out, you are my husb…”
He held up his hand. He was not interested in her self-serving defense right now. “Divorce or no divorce?
Donna shook her head emphatically, “No, I do NOT want a divorce! I love you.”