I’ve said in another story that I dislike business travel. Sure, one can occasionally visit interesting places or meet interesting people, but for the most part, it’s long workdays with little time for any form of relaxation. I used to work as an engineer in an aerospace firm, but now I’m more of a manager and handle administrative red tape. As such, I travel much more now than I used to, leaving my wife at home alone.
Julie and I were both virgins when we were married more than 30 years ago and she has been faithful to me during all that time. She looks remarkably good for a woman in her early 50s. Sure, there is a bit of sag in her small tits and bubbly ass, but nothing that detracts from her wonderful figure. Men still find her attractive and “fuckable.”
The only real hitch in our marriage was when I tried to convince her to have sex with another man. During foreplay, we had used fantasy scenarios of her giving other men blow jobs and sometimes having sex with them, but I never actually asked her to do it until once when we were on a vacation in Miami. We were fucking hard after a full day at the beach looking at all those bodies ripe for sex. She was on top when I suggested going to a club that allowed nudity and seeing if we could find a willing man to come back with us. She freaked out and called me a pervert. “There is no way I would ever do that. My sexuality is my marriage gift to you and is precious to me. It should be precious to you, too. I would never share it with anybody else.”
Needless to say, I never brought it up again. Then a situation happened when I went on a business trip to San Antonio one March that changed everything for us. There was a full day of scheduled meetings on a Tuesday, so I flew west to San Antonio on the preceding Monday night and was scheduled for an early flight on Wednesday morning back east.
No sooner had I checked into my hotel room that Monday evening and flopped down on the bed than Julie called me. “There’s a problem with the internet. I can’t get the laptop or iPad to connect.”
“Have you talked to the internet vendor?”
“Yes. It’ll cost $75 for a service call.”
“Shit. Well, Guy should be home for spring break. I think he returns to school next week. Why don’t you call over to Ron and Shirley’s and see if he would come over and take a look at it. If he can’t do anything, then we’ll fork over the fee and have the vendor make the service call.”
Ron and Shirley were our next-door neighbors. Guy was there only son, who was a junior at the local university, majoring in something related to computers. A strapping young man with a thin, but athletic build, he seemed rather mature for his youthful 20 years and always acted like a gentleman. He seemed the logical choice to check out the internet.
“Okay,” Julie said, “I’ll give them a call.”
“Let me know what he says. Love ya, babe.”
“Love you, too. Talk to you in a minute.”
She hung up and I settled in. It was about 7:30 pm CST, so 8:30 back at home. Still not too late to call over to Ron and Shirley’s. I was considering whether to order room service or check to see if any of the other meeting attendees were in town and available for some dinner, when Julie called back.
“He’ll come over later tomorrow morning and take a look at it.”
“Excellent. No worries then. I’m going to get some food and call it a night. I’ll talk to you in the morning before I start my day.”
“Sounds good. Love you, honey.”
“Love you too, babe.”
I called Julie the next morning at 6:00 am CST, knowing she would be up and around at 7:00 am EST, just to check in with her. Then I went to breakfast and on to the meetings. After the day’s meetings ended, I called Julie again to check in and see how the internet saga was going. It was about 8:00 pm her time.
“He hasn’t shown up yet,” she said in a rather frustrated tone.
“What?! I thought he would have been done by now.”
“Nope. I haven’t heard a peep from him, either. Uh. Hang on a second. I think he’s at the door now.”
“Great. I’m on my way to dinner with some folks. I’ll call in a few hours to check in and see how it went. Love you, babe.”
“Love you, too.”
I went off and had dinner with a large crowd of coworkers, customers, and support people. Returning about 10:00 central time, I called Julie, knowing it was quite late at 11:00 pm eastern. “Hey babe. How did it go with the internet?” I asked when she answered on the fourth ring.
“It’s fixed,” she said softly. Something was off in her voice. I heard a barely perceptible sniffle.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Her voice sounded like it was about to crack. Almost like she was on the verge of tears.
“Honey? Something’s wrong.”
“No, no.” A slight pause. “I was just watching the movie Beaches. You know how it makes me cry.” Beaches? She cried so hard when we saw it many years ago that she never wanted to see it again. Why would she watch it now, when I’m away from home? Something was not right. I figured that dwelling on it now would get me nowhere, so I moved on to enquire about Guy.
“Okay. So, Guy got the internet up and running again?”
“Uh. Yeah. No problem.” More sniffles.
“How long did it take him? Did he say what was wrong?”
“Not too long, I guess.” Sniffle. “He didn’t tell me what was wrong. I was watching the movie while he worked.”
“Alright, baby. It’s late and I know that movie took a lot out of you. Why don’t you get some rest and I’ll call you before I head to the airport in the morning.”
“Okay.” She was barely holding it together.
“Love you baby.”
“Love you, too.”
What the hell? She most certainly did NOT watch Beaches. But what could have her in such a state? Did something happen with Guy? It would have to wait until I got home. Trying to press her over the phone would not yield any good result. I had to be face-to-face with her.
The trouble was that my mind was racing all night long. I couldn’t sleep. I was both concerned and excited at the same time. Excited? Yes, because the most plausible scenario I could think of was that she had done something with Guy that could be construed as cheating on me. How do I know this? From one small experience that happened more than 30 years before, when we were dating.
We were meeting up one afternoon, but Julie seemed unusually sullen. I kept asking her what was wrong, but she would just snap back, “nothing.” Eventually, I coaxed it out of her. Apparently, she had met up with an old boyfriend from her high school days and they had kissed. She felt guilty, hence the short-tempered responses to my interrogation. She cried. Then she begged and pleaded for forgiveness, telling me that she really loved me and didn’t want our relationship to end. We were married a year and a half later. That’s been more than 30 years ago. I don’t recall being turned on by the episode at the time, but it has turned me on to think of it since then.
So, late that Tuesday afternoon, as I was waiting at the “Arrivals” curb of the airport, I continued to think about that episode, comparing it to Julie’s current behavior. They were undoubtably similar. I hadn’t been waiting long when she drove up and pulled close to the curb in front of me. I threw my luggage in the back seat, climbed in the passenger seat, and leaned over to give her a “hello”: kiss. She gave me a quick peck on the lips and then stared straight ahead while I buckled up. She pulled out and started driving home without so much as a word. It looked like she could burst into tears at any moment.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Fine.” She snapped.
“I don’t think so.” I responded. “When are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“Everything’s fine. I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”
In the interest of our mutual safety, I decided to wait until we were home before I pushed her further. Even then, after I had showered, unpacked, and come downstairs, she continued with the icy cold shoulder. She fixed dinner. We ate in silence. I cleaned up the dishes. She sat on the sofa in the living room, staring at the empty fireplace. That gave me an idea. Maybe a nice cozy fire would soften her mood a bit.
I started a nice fire, noticing that there were some burned out embers, put on some soft classical music, turned out the lights, and sat next to my beautiful bride. I put my arm around her shoulder. She leaned her head on my shoulder and burst into tears. “You’re going to hate me,” she said.
“I could never hate you,” I replied.
She lifted her head and, taking my chin in her hand, she turned my head to her and looked me straight in the eyes. “Honey, I have to be honest with you.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “Guy and I had sex.” The flood gates opened, and she sobbed as I pulled her head to my chest and smoothed her hair.
“Tell me what happened,” I said softly.
“Well, (sniff), Guy came over when you had called, about 8:00 last night. It was cold and rainy out. I was already in my pajamas because I thought he was a no show.” I should note that her two-piece pajamas consisted of a silky top and shorts. The top is rather clingy and accentuates her small, perky breasts and nipples. “He was soaking wet from his short walk over, so I didn’t take time to throw on a robe. I just let him in out of the wet cold. He apologized for being so late and gave reasonable excuses that I won’t recount. He said that he didn’t wear a coat because it was just a short walk over here, but there was a sudden burst of torrential rain when he was about halfway over. I told him that it was okay and to hang on while I got a towel for him so he could dry off. I also told him that he was welcome to build a fire in the fireplace if he wanted.