I know it’s a cliché, but I fell in love with Claire the first moment I saw her. It was in the college book store where I was in my senior year and she was a sophomore.

As an engineer type, I’m not usually impulsive, but I walked over to her and said, “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Will you please go out with me?”

She calmly crossed her arms under her perfect little breasts and looked me over from head to toe. Then, for several seconds her penetrating blue eyes looked into mine, and she finally said, “OK.” We were nearly inseparable from then on. We fucked like rabbits every chance we got.

This woman was made for sex, tall and slim but curvy enough to drive any man crazy with desire, and with endless legs. Even her pubic patch was neat and compact, framing the promised land. I love to bury my face in it and inhale the scent from her nearly always wet and ready pussy.

One year later we got married. The ink was barely dry on the license when we discovered she was pregnant. She left school with no regrets; she loved being in a family way. By then I was working as a designer for a local architect firm and doing well.

Motherhood came naturally to her, she would play with our son endlessly, and four months after our first boy was born she was pregnant again. Child-bearing filled out her body to perfection. She stayed active throughout and became a classic MILF. I was crazy in love with her and with our little family.

I could see her across a grocery store parking lot, carrying a bagful and my dick would start to get hard. Seeing her bend to take clothes out of the dryer guaranteed that I would be fucking her within five minutes. She never refused me or pleaded tiredness.

Once a healthy number two was born we decided that we needed better birth control, so I took the hit and got snipped. After that it was “Katey bar the door”; we fucked in every room in the house, in the car, the back yard and on picnics with the babies.

One of my secret pleasures was watching other men do a double take on seeing Claire out and about. You could almost see their cocks getting hard in their pants as they stopped what they were doing and gaped. But she was mine alone.

She would sometimes be approached by a man if she was alone. If he was polite, she would let him say his piece, then thank him and explain that she had a husband who took care of her every need. I have never seen anyone more comfortable in her own skin than Claire.

I occasionally would come upon such an encounter; she simply would introduce me and we would go on our way. I often heard, “lucky bastard,” muttered as we left. I always knew that I was punching well above my weight class with her.

When the boys started school, Claire went back to night school to finish her degree and get her teaching certificate. Those evenings were special for me to have the boys to myself; when she was around, they were hers alone.

After that she began to work part-time as a teacher's assistant, then when they were in middle school she became a full-time teacher. She taught Math and coached girl's gym and volleyball.

Our sex life had to adapt to her new responsibilities and having teen-aged boys around all the time. Finally, they both went off to college, the house was all ours and we reverted to our old horny, in-love selves for a while.

Then I began to notice that Claire had acquired several outside interests. She took up yoga, and signed up for evening art classes and went out with the other teachers for drinks once per week or so. I took this as empty nest syndrome and since I was busy with work took it in stride.

One day after she left for her yoga class, I noticed that she had left her mat behind. Not knowing if it was critical for her I chased after to bring it. Her car was not at the center when I got there, nor was she in the class. I made a mental note to ask about it, but then went to work and forgot.

A couple of other times she was quite late getting home after her art class. Then there was the time I was near her school at noon and decided to take her to lunch. She was nowhere to be found.

Finally came spring break and she said that some of the teachers were planning a several-day trip to the coast for sun and fun. I had too much work to consider joining them, although she had not invited me.

Claire virtually attacked me the night before they left and was extremely loving and sexual the next morning. She managed to get me hard after breakfast and gave me a quick blowjob before I left for work. Her oral skills were definitely improving.

“That should hold you until I get back; I don’t want you being tempted by those cute interns in your office while I’m gone.” I went off to work a happy camper, until the next day when I encountered one of Claire’s fellow teachers who, I was sure, was on the trip with her.

We chatted for a few minutes. “Not going anywhere on break?” I asked, not wanting to tip her off that I was becoming suspicious that my wife had invoked her name as a beard.

“No, we have to deal with kids in school all year, I don’t need to hang with them on vacation. Most of us teachers stay home.”

When she returned, Claire had a nice tan, and seemed quite mellow and contented. I asked about their activities and who was there. Guess whose name came up. Now it was becoming pretty clear that my wife was cheating on me.

I guess my chagrin must have shown on my face, because she came to me, took my face in her hands, kissed me, and whispered, “I missed you, take me to bed and fuck my brains out, you stud.”

For several weeks we pussy-footed around, being especially nice to each other while ignoring the elephant in the room. I went about doing my job and my husband duties with a constantly heavy heart. It was a blessing that I had a challenging project at work that I could immerse myself in for hours at a time.

She must have sensed something because she became like when we were younger, very loving and always ready for sex, sometimes aggressively initiating it like the old days. I have never been able to stay angry with her.

Then she made the fatal mistake; she went to yoga without her phone, that facilitator of shenanigans, and repository of secrets.

I heard the pings come from her bedside drawer and didn’t know what it was. I had never snooped into her phone, believing in her privacy, but this time I decided to look. Here is what I saw

Text 1:

“It’s nice having dinner as a family together again, but I miss your beautiful, warm pussy. My wife can’t hold a candle to you in bed.”

There was a second text: “Can you get away later this week?”

There it was, solid evidence. I ran to the bathroom and vomited. I needed to get out of there. I cleaned myself up and decided to go to the office. I put her phone in my pocket and took a bottle of scotch whisky with me.

I had lost my best friend and was not sure I could survive it. I was so out of it, it was a miracle that I didn’t crash my car on the way to my office. I was despondent.

I stayed at the office as long as I could stand, trying to decide if I should go home and confront her or go stay in a motel for the night. Finally, feeling that I had no choice, I went home. Claire was upset.

“Where have you been? I was worried about you and can’t find my…” her mouth dropped as I held the phone out to her. “You had it?” Then she looked at the screen and her whole body seemed to droop. “Oh,” was all she said.

For what seemed like an eternity we stood there, until she said in a subdued voice, “John, please come here,” reaching out her arms for me, the arms that had embraced me a thousand times, and now has been embracing another man for, who knows how long.

I couldn’t move toward her, I couldn’t move away. She wrapped her arms around me and held me, a rigid mass unable to respond or break the contact.

“I’m glad it’s out, now we can deal with it. It was nothing and it’s over. I have hated myself ever since.” Her words, meant to pacify me, infuriated me. I came out of my funk.

“Nothing? You destroyed, ripped up, a twenty-year bond of love and trust for NOTHING? What we had meant nothing to you?”

“I meant compared to what we have, our love for each other, it was nothing. I know that sounds feeble here and now but I have never stopped loving you.”

"Yet you needed to fuck someone else. Did you love him?”

“I suppose, in a way, but nothing like my love for you, and it’s over now.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“Only three months.”

“In this situation, I don’t think ‘only’ and ‘three months’ belong in the same sentence. Why is it over now?”

“Sorry, you are right of course. He went back to his wife, they were on a trial separation.”

“So he ended it, not you. And now he wants you back. Is he going to get you back?”

“No, of course not. I realize how much I risked before. I will never again stray, for him or anyone.” She took my hand and led me to the sofa; she sat and pulled me down beside her.

“John, you are my one true love; that has always been the case. I am not sure that I know how I let this happen.” She leaned her head onto my neck. “How can I make this right with you?”

“If I have any chance to forgive you and begin to trust you again, I am going to need to understand what happened, when and why. Can you talk to me honestly about it?”

“Of course, I’ll answer anything you ask, but some of it might hurt. Do you really want to know it all?”

“I don’t see how I could hurt more than I do right now, and I don’t, frankly, see how I will get over it. So, you need to decide whether you want to stay married to me or whether you want your lover back.” My anger was rising again.

“I love you, John, I love you, I love YOU! I will never love anyone else.”

“Did you ever tell him you loved him?”

“No. I may have said that I loved his cock or the way he licked my pussy, or how he kissed, but not ‘I love you’.”

“But all of those things he did better than me.” A little bit of passive aggression seemed appropriate.

“No, not at all; it was just different, I had different needs. He came on strong and it made me feel attractive and desirable. I guess I’m not aging as gracefully as I should. Men don’t stop me in the street and compliment my looks like they used to.”

“When did he end it?”

“After we came back from Spring…” she stopped, realizing she was directly confessing she lied to me.

“Spring Break when you and the girls didn’t go to the coast together?” She looked down at the floor and mumbled something that sounded like “yes”.

“When did you two start this affair?”

“I wish you wouldn’t call it an affair; that sounds so calculated. We had been having lunch together for a while, and we became close friends but nothing inappropriate. We talked about our families and he told me about his marriage troubles; things just seemed to progress from there. Then one day he kissed me and confessed that he had feelings for me.”

“I reminded him that I was happily married, and declined his next couple of lunch invites. But he persisted and the next time he begged me to just hold him a bit. That time I returned his kiss. Before I knew it he was fondling my breast. It felt good so I let him push my bra up and caress me there. Are you sure you want to hear this?”

“I want to hear everything, to understand how you could do this to me, to us.”

“John, I promised to answer all your questions, but right now I want to make love to you, to show you that you are my man and will always be the only man for me.”

Her hand went to my belt and she slid to the floor between my legs. As she undid my pants, she looked pleadingly into my eyes. My cock was growing against my wishes.

She grasped my waistband and I lifted myself up for her to pull my pants and shorts to my ankles. The moment my semi-hard cock popped up she slid her lips over my glans and her hands grasped my ass cheeks and squeezed, pulling my cock into her mouth and throat. This was a trick that she had recently tried on me. I wondered where she had learned to deep throat; now I knew.

It felt wonderful, like it always had, until I closed my eyes. Then I saw an image of her doing this to someone else. She was suddenly trying to swallow a very large, very hard cock and trying to take it all into her throat.

Her saliva was dripping off him as she deep-throated his cock. She was enjoying herself totally with this faceless man. I saw her pussy and it was swollen and open from being fucked by his big cock. His cum was oozing out of her. I jumped up.

“You fucking slut! I bet you love sucking his cock, and I bet you let him cum in your mouth and you swallow it. Maybe his wife could use a lesson from you.” I pushed her away, went to the fridge for a couple of beers and stormed into a spare bedroom and slammed the door.

I drank my beer trying to calm myself down. I thought I heard her sobbing on the other side of the door. I got up to get another beer. When I opened the door, I found Claire sitting on the floor, tears running down her cheeks.

“Does his cum taste better than mine?” I asked as I went to the fridge.

Again I barely heard an answer. “No.”

“Who is he?”

“It’s not important. We will no longer even be friends; he will not exist for me."

"I’ll decide if I need to meet or talk to his wife. He must be a teacher at your school. You will probably see him every day. How can I trust that you and he won’t start up again? It’s clear he wants to.”

“Please, I don’t want to quit my job. You have my word that I will not speak to him except for legitimate work matters that can’t be avoided. And please do not call his wife; she has done no wrong. It’s not like you to inflict gratuitous pain on others.”

“Call him now and tell him that he must never speak to you again, period. Let him figure out how.”

“Right now? He is probably with his wife and kids now.”

“Not my problem. He found plenty of ways to communicate with you before. Let him figure it out.”

Claire was clearly unhappy about calling her lover in front of me and possibly his wife, but she pulled his number from her contacts list and speed-dialed. Then she deleted his name. The call went to voice mail.

“I’ll tell him when he calls back," which he did after a few minutes. I listened to her tell him that I knew about them and was very angry and hurt by what they had done. She told him that she was ashamed of herself and hoped she could repair the damage to our marriage. It sounded as if he understood the new rules and would comply.

After hanging up my wife came to me and asked, “May I say something about this whole mess?” I nodded, too fatigued to rant anymore. She sat beside me and took my hands in hers

“I consider our life together and our marriage to be perfect, ideal. Our love is complete, our family is perfect, our sex is magical and satisfying. When Robert and I started to become close and I suspected we would be intimate, I considered it outside of us, you and I. It didn’t impinge on what we have, or affect it really.”

“There was no comparison between our love and what he and I did; I felt that we were bullet proof. I see now that I was wrong and that I have damaged the most important thing in my life. I want to fix it, but I’m not sure how. I need you to help me make things right again. I will die if you leave me, I mean it.”

Her impassioned plea hit home. I started to cry. She wrapped her arms around me and let me weep on her breast. “You made a cuckold of me, for god’s sake. I must be the laughing stock of your school. Does the entire teaching staff know about you and him?”

“Possibly. We may not have been as discrete as we should have. I can’t change that now, but I will make sure that everyone knows how much I love you from now on.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“Please don’t let a single indiscretion destroy twenty years of love and faithfulness. It will never happen again, with anyone. Robert and I just incrementally became more and more comfortable together, and then we crossed a line without really seeing it.”

“A single indiscretion, for three months? Is he better in bed than me? Is he a better lover?”

“No, no and no to your next question, his cock isn’t even bigger.” She chuckled. “But he is not circumcised; that took a little getting used to. Please, come to bed and let me make love to you, all this sex talk is making me horny.” I held back.

“Have you fucked him in our bed?”

“No, never. That would have been a bridge too far. He has not been in this house.”

I fucked her hard and long; with no foreplay, something I would never have done before. She made no complaint and even thanked me after. We were both worn out from the emotions; I slept fitfully.

I awoke in the wee hours, Claire wrapped around me snoring gently. That woman; World War III wouldn’t cause her to lose sleep. I lay still so as not to disturb her, but my anger began to rise again.

I asked myself, “How could she just sleep peacefully through this crisis, knowing how it is torturing me, what it has done to our marriage? But, of course she has been doing exactly that for months, every night knowing what she had done, intending to keep doing it. Before now, I would not have believed that she was capable of such conniving mendacity.”

I roughly pushed her off me and got out of bed. She mumbled a bit, rolled away from me and went back to sleep. I went to the kitchen and made coffee. While drinking it I decided that we needed a time-out.

I left a note telling her that I would be back later for my things and asking her to not be home. I went to the office where I sat thinking about the future. It looked bleak.

I waited until long after she should be at work before going home. There was a note on the kitchen table.

John,

I am so sorry that this situation has affected you so much that you would not even let me try to make amends. My heart is broken knowing that I callously may have destroyed us, and have damaged your self-esteem.

What a selfish bitch I have been.

I accept that you need to be away from me for a time, but you should not be the one to leave. I called my friend Connie and can stay with her until more permanent arrangements can be made. This is your home until you can share it again, I hope with me.

I will tell the boys what has happened soon but please let me do it. Thank you. Your loving and repentant wife,

Claire

p.s. Call me if you want to talk. We can’t let this break us apart.

My heart sank. The unthinkable had happened, my perfect world was gone. I’m not sure what I wanted to happen but this wasn’t it. My mind was churning a mile a minute. What had she done that I could not forgive? Could I trust her now?

If we stay together I can’t flog her over this ever again; she can’t keep apologizing forever. I will have to let it go permanently. She has taken the high ground from me; now I feel like the bad guy.

“Why does the woman always seem to come out the injured party? She groveled, I berated her and stormed away. What more can she do? I want to fight with her, punish her, but not have her leave. I want her to stay and take it.

Fuck, ‘I’m hoist on my own petard.’ I can’t live without her. She is, at bottom an honest, loving person and my one true love.”

I will call her and grovel, beg her to come back. That’s the only acceptable solution to this mess. Pussy power always wins in the end.