cwcobblestone
Member
Posts: 303
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Here's a fantasy about my mistress and her old lover...
I peeked through the curtains yet again. Still nothing. My stomach fluttered. I
prayed for headlights but all I saw were streetlights.
Three in the morning. Was she staying at his place again? Would she come home?
If she did, would she be alone? With a sigh, I shut the curtains and slumped in
my easy chair, sad thoughts weighing me down ...
I suppose no cuckold ever gets used to his wife's infidelity, even though we
crave it, hate it, love it, curse it, wallow in it. Cassie and William are an
item; there's nothing I can do about that. I'm the one who asked her to seek a
lover in the first place, although I regret it now. Well, I sometimes regret it.
Sometimes, I love it. Always, I live it.
It's not all fantasyland. You get through life. You work. You watch ballgames.
You share tender moments. You laugh together.
But always -- always -- it's there. He's there, hovering over our marriage like
a well-hung ghost. Even when we're together, part of her is with him. And when
they're together, I don't exist.
If he's horny, she'll drop whatever she's doing to be with him. He texted her on
the night of our 10th anniversary and ruined the whole thing. She was relaxing
in the living room watching TV while I put the finishing touches on her favorite
dinner, shrimp fettucini with chocolate mousse for dessert. Just as I lit the
candles, his irritating ringtone blared from her Blackberry.
I seethed and listened to her end of the conversation:
"Hey, you! Nothing; just sitting here on the couch watching TMZ, about to eat."
There was a pause. "Why, you coming over? Shrimp fettucini; it's our anniversary
... he's making my favorite dinner." She giggled. "Okay, I'll tell him. Hmm hmm.
You too, babe. Oh, yeah! Hee hee!"
She hung up. "Hey, Al," she called. "William says he hates shrimp fettucini;
called it fag food. He's such an asshole. He said fix him a cheeseburger."
So on the night of our 10th anniverary, I fixed William a cheeseburger deluxe,
and he sat across the candlelit table from my beloved Cassie, making her laugh,
touching her arm, rubbing her leg. She ate my special dinner with him and never
gave it a second thought. Meanwhile, in the kitchen, I stood near the door,
eavesdropping on their laughter like a lovesick fool, ready to scurry forth at
the snap of a finger.
She called for a refill. He wanted more chips. I brought back their order, tears
welling in my eyes. Cassie clucked her tongue.
"Awwww. Poor Al. It's our anniversary, and mean ol' William horns in on your
action."
"What action?" William put on an angry face. "There better not be any action."
Cassie giggled. "Unless you call rubbing my feet action. But be nice to Al; it's
our anniversary." She flashed me a patronizing smile. "Happy anniversary,
honey."
"Yeah, happy anniversary, honey," William sneered before downing his take and
wiggling his index finger at the empty glass. "Fix that up for me, there, would
ya, Al?"
"Yes, sir."
I fetched his take and set it before him, my bottom lip trembling.
"Awww, don't be sad, honey." Cassie giggled. "At least you get to eat tonight."
"Yeah, I got to thank you for that steak; it was good as hell." William leaned
back in his chair and reflected on his most recent visit. "You should make more
food like that, Al, not shrimp fagg-o-letti, or whatever the hell that cuckolds brownie is."
I powerd a tight-lipped smile and nodded. William waved his hand at me. "Now,
get the hell out of here; I don't want you breathing on me while I try to eat."
Cassie playfully punched his arm. "Quit being so mean on our anniversary." She
looked at me and shrugged. "I'm sorry, sweetie. William's such an asshole."
He grabbed her shoulders and yanked her toward him, making her squeal. "I'll
show you an asshole." She pulled away and grinned in my direction. "Al, you'd
better get out of here before William takes a belt to your ass again."
I trotted out of the room and cried in the kitchen.
After our big anniversary dinner, he fucked her in our bed.
I sat in my easy chair crying that night, too ...
****
I stood and peeked out the window again. A pair of headlights sparked into view
and my heart leapt. Then the lights turned down Maple Street, and it felt like
someone kicked me in the nuts. I glanced at the living room clock. Quarter to
five. She wasn't coming home tonight.
Shoulders slumped, I shuffled off to our cold, lonely bed.
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