What To Do With Lynnette? Ch. 02

Some readers have already made up their minds that Lynette's husband Jerry is going to 'wimp out', and grovel to get her to come back so he can become a voyeur and watch her continue to cheat. The tendencies some of you believe I have to wimp out may not necessarily apply in this case though.

Not everything turns out the way we think or even hope it should. This story will turn out the way it does because it's the way the real events happened. Sometimes the good guy loses, and the bad guy wins, but I don't think who's right and who's wrong is as important as what each person does with the hand of cards that's dealt to him or to her.

This story is simply a recitation of life as it happened for good or bad. If you can't live with the possibility of a bad ending, don't take the chance by reading it. If we thought there was a good chance that something we considered doing would come out bad, we probably would choose to do something else, something safe and guaranteed to end happy.

I confess that I try to shoot for the woman's point of view more than I do the man's, but that's only because I think we men are usually too judgmental, and still apply a double standard; maybe this is my way of applying a counterbalance through some sort of affirmative action, Good honest people don't always come out on top; even people who make mistakes can survive if they learn, should the world deny them the rigth to happiness because of their survival?

I love character and the other things in life that come from overcoming adversity no matter what it is, or who it is. I'm not a moralist, or a hedonist. I believe we all have the capacity to resolve troubling issues in our lives with those around or close to us; issues that sometimes seem insurmountable when we live by a rigid standard that seems more important itself than the people who are subject to it.

This doesn't mean I'm against rules and standards, it just means that the spirit of the law sometimes has to be considered, along with the letter of it. A lot of people believe there is only black and white to any issue or opinion, there is no grey. I disagree, I'm that guy who always comes up with the 'well...what if' to the question. That's because I believe we are almost always better off if we find a way to fix something, than we are by throwing it out and replacing it. The thing we lose with the cut and switch method is everything we learn from the process of problem solving. Cutting out the bad cuts out all the good we learn as well. I guess I'm just an incurable fixer, but then this story isn't about me. Maybe it's time to find out what Jerry thinks.

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When I looked into the curio cabinet, just past the archway leading into the dining area and off the bottom of the stairway, and tried to focus on the reflected image in the cabinets mirrored back, I couldn't believe what I thought I was seeing. Brian Reynolds, a workmate of my wife's, who I had met only a minute before was almost kneeling down behind Lynn and either he or my wife had apparently pushed the skirt of the thin summer dress she was wearing all the way to her waist. I could clearly make out the length of her naked straining leg and hip as she stood with her legs obscenely spread while Brian fucked I presume several fingers in and out of her open pussy.

Even though I found it hard to believe what I was seeing, I wouldn't say I the idea that something was going on between them was completely new to me. Suspicions had already given way to certainty, and I knew my wife was having an affair. I had been numb forever it seemed, at least since the final night she was in Orlando during her last business trip. The trip was to a trade show for the company she worked for, she had even invited me to go along, but my work load wouldn't permit it. I've wondered often during the time between that night and now how things might have taken a different course if I had gone along.

We had been married for more than 6 years, and it seemed to me like our marriage was as strong as or stronger than anyone's we knew. Our relationship had been tested when we mutually agreed to start a family and discovered that was not going to be an easy process. Both of us had been medically tested, and nothing was discovered in either that would account for our failures in conception. Somehow the notion materialized in our fertility consultations that Lynn's womb was not a receptive environment for successful fertilization.

We spent all we thought we could afford on everything imaginable for the better part of three years, but nothing worked. More complicated procedures would cost tens of thousands of dollars, and without guarantee, and without insurance to cover the majority of the expense; they seemed far beyond our capacity to handle or hope for.

I thought the disappointment was equal for both of us, but Lynette seemed to show it more than I did. To escape, she buried herself in her career and continued to enjoy constant success. I felt almost mired down in mine career track. I was a software engineer, and it seemed that even though there was plenty of work, the business community I was in was highly competitive and the buy-outs and mergers were so rampant there was always an underlying note of insecurity and competitive pressure to survive. Pressures were always applied to meet objectives, and the idea of moving up the ladder to become a project manager seemed almost masochistic.

Communication, and even caring between us seemed to be more strained and less genuine, and sex as a result became less frequent and exciting as well. When we were first married, we were naïve; both of us came from very conservative roots. Neither of us doubted that the other came to our wedding night virtuous so the awkward issues of experience, or lack thereof came into play, but we were both patient and tolerant as we grew together.

Early on in the bedroom, due to my inexperience mostly, I think I may have appeared provincial in our effort to talk about the things we did or thought about doing to give each other pleasure. I recall that I was rather outspoken one time about how I thought oral sex was perverse and unacceptable in any loyal and loving marriage. Now I wonder how I could have come across so high and mighty, I have always tried to be tolerant of others at least, but more than that, I've learned how important it is to have open, honest expressive communication with those closest to you. Failure to honestly consider another's point of view fairly and without judgment closes the door on everything, not just the subject of a particular issue in question.

I believe now that many of the things I was taught to condemn and avoid while I was growing up in a conservative home, like oral or even anal sex, can be acceptable and healthy in an exciting sexual relationship, if they are enjoyable to both and are shared between faithful loving partners. After having made a judgmental stand on the issue of oral sex, the right or wrong of it was obscured by the inflexibility of my initial firm position. Lynn had accepted and supported my leadership, but when I started to take a more liberal personal view of things I thought I couldn't show her without loosing her respect.

I became curious and hen fascinated by the uninhibited expression of sexual desire that seems to be advocated as the norm in today's society by the media, and almost envied people who could do outlandish sexual things without fear of criticism or consequence. I honestly thought most of the 'wild' behavior we hear about was actually staged commercial enterprise, not real people acting out and giving way to lusty urges. I wished real people could be disarming, daring and throw caution to the wind, but knew realistically that was very likely.

I wanted sex to be more exciting, and hotter between Lynn and me, but didn't know how to make it happen, also the issues over our failures at getting Lynn pregnant rose up between us. She became moody, morose and outright depressed, so it seemed like she started to resent sex. I took it personally and thought she was finding me less sexually attractive. When I felt less desired, I felt selfish if I always took the initiative in sex, and when, on increasingly rare occasions, Lynn would fight through her funk and try to start something, I wasn't responsive. I thought she wasn't really excited by me, and even accused her of offering pity sex to help me out. To say our sex life was suffering, wouldn't be an understatement, we were hurting, but neither of us would admit it.

When she started to have more success in her career, and got more recognition and attention, it showed in the way she carried herself and dressed. Things really started to bother me when I interpreted all of that as evidence Lynette was starting to behave more sexually. I took notice of the way she dressed and the things she wore. She was starting to buy more sexy underwear from Victoria's Secret, and women to men that they never wear those things for themselves or for comfort, they wear them for men to see and appreciate or to turn men on; she wasn't doing much to show off to me at home, so I thought the worst of it rather than add my own whistles to her ego.

Her skirt length moved up to a few inches above her knees, and I didn't think it was just due to the current fashion trend. She started getting up from bed, well after I had settled down and was supposedly asleep. I didn't think much of it until it happened several times in one week. When she didn't return to bed for quite a while one night, I slipped out of bed and quietly made my way down the stairs to see if she had fallen asleep somewhere. The living room was somewhat dark because the lights were off, but at the same time it seemed lit up by the lights from a street lamp and a full moon.

I wouldn't have suspected her being in there until I heard a soft but alluring moan. At first I couldn't tell if it was the sound someone with a tummy ache, or something else; the sound was familiar and very personal. I peeked my head around the corner and was shocked to see Lynn stretched out along the couch, half reclining with both feet almost to the floor and legs spread wide. She was completely naked and masturbating with urgency; she was obviously very close to orgasm, and I couldn't take my eyes off of her as she pumped the fingers of one hand deeply into her wet sex and pinched her inflamed clit between her thumb and two fingers of the other.

Her gorgeous firm breasts heaved with her labored breathing while she rushed to the climax she seemed to desperately need. I watched, spellbound while her body seemed to lock in a series of spasms while a tremendous orgasm rippled over her flesh. She seemed locked in the intensity of that cum for ever and whispered nasty sexy things to herself through tightly clenched teeth. It was one of the most beautiful sexy things I had ever seen. Complete natural lust with no commercial pretense. She obviously was learning to love sex and knew how to make all her feelings come alive with her own fingertips.

I was captivated and mesmerized, and at the same time jealous, wondering who she was fantasizing about. I couldn't imagine myself as the object of her lusty imagination and was tortured with the need to find out whose face was painted on the canvas of her dreams.

During the days that followed, I watched Lynette much closer and even started to inspect her soiled laundry for any tell-tell signs of sexual activity. I was amazed to discover so many different and very sexy pairs of panties she had that I had never taken notice of. Several times I was able to examine them shortly after she took them off and usually they were still damp. I couldn't tell if the juices came from her own excitement of if some had been provided by another man, and I became obsessed with the need to know for sure.

I had made it a point to smell my own sperm so I could make sure I was familiar with any characteristic odor, and couldn't place that odor on any of her lingerie no matter how hard I exercised my own imagination. I hadn't found anything that would conclusively point to Lynn cheating on me, but somehow, deep down inside I was certain she had, and the thought of it hurt beyond description.

One night she came home visibly distraught and on edge. I thought maybe there had been a blow-up at work or maybe she had a close call in the commute that had frightened her. She was still upset the next morning and although she left for work as normal, when I did, I think she came home early and spent most of the day at home inside. One of our neighbors had asked me if she was feeling well. When I seemed confused about the question the neighbor said she had seen her come back home still early in the morning, and then later that morning when the neighbor stopped in to check, Lynette answered the door looking like she had just gotten out of bed.

Lynn seemed on edge for several days until she started getting up again at night, and I watched her masturbate wildly in front of the open window, daring anyone outside to watch her cum. This was definitely serious sex that didn't include me. Still I found no evidence of infidelity in her panties other than what seemed to be her own arousal.

She had started to travel more frequently after promotions, and when I examined her clothes when she returned, I still found very little. Some of her lingerie seemed clean and fresh as though she had never even put it on, or if she had, she didn't keep it on for long. She had a new bikini that she bought for swimming, but it was skimpier than anything I had ever seen her in before, and in spite of the jealousy I felt at her being seen by other men in it, I was aroused at the thought of how sexy she must look in it as well.

One night, just before she went to Orlando for the trade show, she got a call on her cell phone late at night. We were in bed, and the phone must have been set to vibrate because I didn't hear it ring. She slipped out of bed and went over to the patio door that opened onto the deck of our second story bedroom. We often opened the drapes after the lights were out at night, because in the winter time, if there was much snow, wild deer would come down from the hills near by and eat from the dormant bushes close to the ground around our home, and it was interesting to watch them while we were cuddled up in our bed.

Lynette moved in front of the glass doors to talk in a whisper and I shifted silently beneath the covers so I could clearly see her. I could hear her mild protest, that didn't sound convincing and the hushed whispers of pretended shock in her quiet voice. She turned to look at me, and when she was convinced I was still fully asleep, she lifted her nighty up and slipped it over her head, then she dropped it silently to the floor. She was completely naked and her skin shown from outside lighting and the moon that night. My cock stiffened from looking at her, but I was upset and hurt that someone else, on the other end of that call was being involved in this act of intimacy, not me.

She turned back to face the outside and got right next to the glass so she could be easily seen if anyone was there. I wondered if the caller himself, assuming it was a man, was right outside. She seemed to be following his instructions as she started to stroke and play with her body. Her breathing deepened as her arousal increased; she was standing so close to the glass and to me that she was almost daring me to speak and discover her. It seemed that the idea of being caught by me was almost part of her excitement.

The caller must have given her directions because she left the room, and glided down the stairs into the front entry, and then she turned and went toward the kitchen instead of her customary frigging zone in the front room. I had gotten out of bed and was cautiously following behind her when I saw light from the refrigerator illuminate the dark room.

After a moment, the door closed and the light disappeared, and soon after I watched the nude body of my wife move into the front room. She went to the couch and lay back on it like I had seen her do before and spread her legs widely. Then I saw what she had removed from the fridge, a large cucumber, probably 10 inches at least in length, and quite big around as well. Following more instructions, she held it between her legs and slid the tip of it up and down the gooey wetness between her fatly aroused pussy lips.

I suppose like most men, I had fantasized about watching something like this before; always with some nameless vixen too aroused to wait any longer for a man to come and take her, or to care for her need, never had I imagined seeing my own wife in this scene. I had never thought until recently that I could watch openly, without being discovered, the live sexual performance of an excitable woman, but even after six years of marriage, I felt insecure about my abilities to seduce a woman and inspire this kind of sexual display. It was painful to wonder who it was that performed that role better than me, but my cock was rock hard even though I felt anger and jealousy directed at her partner in lust.

I watched a she forced the large cold shaft of the cucumber into her sex. Deeper and deeper each succeeding stroke. As she fucked herself with the fat green monster I felt as though her fingers were wrapped around my own shaft pumping it towards climax, and I imagined the feeling of her warm wet sucking womb on my erect organ, drawing my sperm all the way from deep within my balls. I couldn't resist the impulse to slide my hand inside my pajama bottoms to feel my pulsing cock and I shot load after load of cum into the cloth while I watched her body tense and shake in violent orgasm.

I was ashamed at my own arousal at a time when I was immersed in jealousy and righteous indignation over my wife's obvious emotional adultery, and knew I had to find out for sure exactly what was going on behind my back. If she was having an affair or being unfaithful, I felt I needed to have the damming evidence in my hand when I finally confronted her.

It almost surprises me as I look back now, that I hadn't considered or even thought of divorce before then, even though I felt betrayed. I should have felt justified, but divorce was such a foreign consideration in any of the conversations we had had in our marriage and in direct conflict with the commitments we made and renewed along the way, that it just simply didn't occur to me then, that it could be an option.

I went back to bed that night, and the next day life went on for us in the uncomfortable way it had come to be. I continued to search for evidence of faith or disloyalty everywhere I could. I searched computer files, personal planners, the laundry hamper and credit card transactions, and came up with nothing. It was right after the cell phone cucumber incident that Lynette was scheduled to go to Orlando for several days to help with a trade show. She seemed unusually excited by the trip as she made her preparations, and because she was in good spirits, life had been more pleasant all around. She was more sexually excited as well and we made love passionately several times during the days and nights before her departure.

One morning she called me from Orlando near the end of her trip, and asked what I had called about the previous night. She apologized for not returning my call until the next morning before she gave me the opportunity to tell her that I hadn't called. It all made me wonder why she would have had to wait until the next morning to return a call anyway. Did she ignore the red message notification light on her phone all night, or had she been somewhere other than in her room? When I pressed her, she had a hard time finding a reasonable explanation.