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I have to admit I was an arrogant asshole to my wife on more than a few occasions.  Usually after a long day of work, when I got home I didn’t really want to spend a half an hour talking about what a good deal she got at Target or how long it took her to get her nails done.  She was a stay at home mom, and sometimes I had a hard time listening to how much spilled out of a diaper or whatever.

I came home on a Monday night, grabbed a beer, kicked off my shoes and started watching football.  She started in with her shopping adventures and I was trying to listen to a replay, so I snapped at her to be quiet.  She got a little pissy, and went to the kitchen.  After halftime, I realized what a jerk I was being.  I tried making up with her, but she was being a royal bitch.  I checked in on dinner, and she basically told me to make it myself.

So, I grabbed my keys, and took off rather than put up with her BS.  She called the cell and asked where I was going, and I told her anywhere away from her.  She launched in with the nagging and moaning, so I just hung up on her and didn’t answer any of the next twenty calls she placed to me.

I called my friend Kev and we decided to grab some fast food and go back to his apartment to watch the game.  After the game was over, we got to talking, and then decided to go to a strip club for a couple of hours.  The strip club was a real trashy place in an industrial part of town, and the girls there weren’t the best I had ever seen.  But, it was cool hanging out with Kev.  We both got a couple of table dances and a few beers.  It was fun.

Around 11 I called my wife and said I was on my way and not to worry.  Her voice sounded throaty and the only thing I understood her saying was Happy Anniversary.  I instantly felt bad because I had forgotten our anniversary.  There was nowhere I could get flowers this late, so on my way to the house, I grabbed a couple of flowers from the garden and figured I could use my charm.

The kids were in bed and the lights were out, so I creeped into the bedroom.  She had the bathroom lights on and she was sitting up in the bed.  I sheepishly handed the flowers to her, and said happy anniversary.  She was not pleased.  She said I smelled like cigarettes.  I told her I went to a sports bar and was just hanging out with Kev to unwind and not be so stressed.  Her cheeks were red, but she wasn’t crying.  Her breathing was fast, and she was talking kind of low.  “You’re an asshole going to a titty bar on our anniversary.”  Feigning shock, I said, “What?  We went to a sports bar, babe.  I swear.  You can call Kev and ask.”  She replied, “Then where you get all the glitter from?  And the lipstick smear on your sleeve?”

I took a long pause trying to come up with something.  I said, “Okay.  I am sorry.  I didn’t realize it was…”  She cut me off and told me to stop explaining.  I sat next to her, and she took a swing at me.  I grabbed her by the wrist and told her to relax.  Let me explain.  She tried to swing at me again, so I pinned her arms down on the bed and then she started bucking like a wild horse trying to get away.

Suddenly, I felt a solid blow to the side of my face and nose that dropped me to the side of the bed.  I thought she somehow twisted her leg around to kick me.  I tried getting up, but I kept stumbling at the side of the bed.  My nose was pouring blood, and my head was spinning.  I had a concussion I would later figure out.  I was straddling the end of the bed on my knees and holding my nose to try and stop the blood.

I felt Michelle undo my belt and pull my pants down.  She pulled my boxers down.  The next thing I felt was her swinging the belt on my lower back and ass.  It was like I was drunk, and I couldn’t defend myself.  I slipped down to the floor, and she was still swinging at my legs and back.  I got in a fetal position, and she eventually stopped swinging at me with the belt.  My ears were ringing, and then from the dresser mirror, I saw a figure in my room.  There was a black guy sitting on a chair near the corner of the bedroom.  He must have been the one who knocked me down.

Michelle and he were talking and looking down at me.  I couldn’t make out their words.  The next thing I know, she is on her knees between his legs taking off his basketball shorts.  After she pulled off his shorts, she stood in front of him and started grinding her ass on him.  She had on pj bottoms and a white tank top.  It was like she was giving him a table dance, except his shorts were at his ankles.

He reached up and started groping my wife’s chest.  She didn’t have a bra on, and I could see his black fingers going under her tank top.  Then he held her by her hips and pulled her down on his dick.  He put his thumbs at the tops of her pj’s, and in a flash she was stepping out of her pj’s revealing white lacy thong panties.  She started grinding her thonged ass on his dick, and you could sense his stimulation.  My wife was really turning him on.  Then my wife took off her panties and placed them on his erect cock.

It was like my wife’s panties were a little flag, and his black cock was the flagpole.  She walked over to me in nothing but her tank top and said something about enjoying the show.  I was still a little groggy.  She then climbed onto the sides of the chair and while facing me lowered herself onto his dick.

The contrast of his purple-black dick entering my white wife’s velvety pink vagina was startling.  His dick was enormous and thick.  Her pussy was small and tight.  His skin was a deep black.  Her skin was a creamy white.  He had a think layer of curly pubic hair around his legs and pubic area.  She was clean shaven.

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I was so not looking forward to going on this business trip. Usually I get away with a trip in the middle of week that essentially shortens my workweek. This time it was a Monday morning meeting in Texas of all places. I left on the trip with a female coworker who was pleasant enough in passing, but really grating on the nerves after sitting with her for 10 minutes. So, I am sitting at the airport talking about nothing with Alexandra – no, I’d rather not be called Alex – when my wife calls to see how I’m doing. I told her about Alexandria and how it’s going to be a long trip. She laughed and said for me to have a nice trip and call her first thing in the morning to start her day off the right way. I hung up smiling. She always knew the right things to say.

We’d been married for almost 3 years. I met her when we were paired for a beginner yoga class on the first day. We stayed partners for the rest of the lessons and got married about a year later. Neither of us had been married before, and she never had even been the slightest serious before. Turns out she was engaged to an asshole who I met one day in the parking of lot of her work. I was picking her up for lunch, and before I went into her office, he walked up to me and handed me a sealed envelope. All he said was, “Take care, buddy.” He walked around the end of the building and one protection order later, we’ve fortunately never heard from him again.

I thought he was serving me with papers or maybe he was giving me religious stuff. So, I opened the envelope up right there next to my car. To my horror, there were forty-two 5×7 sexual pictures of my wife with this man. I should have stopped after looking at the first one. In the first one, she was on her knees giving him a blowjob. On her left ring was a wet engagement ring with a nice sized diamond.
That would be our first real argument. She never technically said she was engaged, but she sure gave that impression. In retrospect, I don’t know why it bugged me so much that she never told me. We both had lives before we met. Not only was she defensive about her past engagement, she was pissed at me for looking at all of the pictures.

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