Old Country

First, I tripped during one of my easygoing jogs one evening during my second week back and, as I lay there on the ground, I could smell the soil under the new turf grass next to the sidewalk and remembered that same smell from that night - like that of freshly-turned earth - wafting off the guy. I had already remembered that my assailant was a very large man, and he was alone. Finally, I remembered something about hearing the guy say the word, "Wife." After a week of this, I began to make notes to myself in order not to forget the details later.

When I called the police and told the detective who was handling my case about what I was able to recall, he surprised me. He straight out asked me if I was having an affair with a married woman, as the attack on my testicles was telltale of an attack by an enraged husband for that type of insult. I assured him that I was happily married and that I had NOT been messing around with anyone else - single, married, or even divorced.

Needless to say, when Luanne returned from her latest southern sojourn, after her two weeks away from me, I was horny as hell! She seemed to be too and, after giving me one of her patented scorching hot kisses when she got in the car at the airport, she put her hand in my lap and did not move it away from my erection all the way to the house.

WOW!! Did we ever have the hots for each other by this time!!

When we got home that night, we did not even wait to get Luanne's bag out of the car. We were in the house and headed upstairs before the motor for the garage door opener had finished closing the overhead door.

"Oh, Glenn, Baby," Luanne panted, "It has been soooo long. I need you; right now!" And, with that, she removed her last remaining items of clothing-lace panties and matching bra; the rest of her clothes having left a trail from the kitchen all the way up the stairs. She lay back on the bed, spreading her legs, raising her knees, and fingering her slit.

I was so on fire at that point, from all the touching of my cock through my clothes on the way home from the airport; and from watching her gorgeous ass as it had swayed in front of me during the ascent to the upper floor of the house. I was surprised that I had not cum spontaneously in my pants before now.

Within seconds, I was between Luanne's legs, pumping my rock-hard shaft in and out of her very wet honey hole while I kissed her neck. She moaned loudly in my ear as she held me down over her. She bucked her hips up so that her pelvis smacked mine by gripping my thighs in a death-lock with her heels and pulling me to her repeatedly. It only took a couple of minutes for her to begin to moan in ecstasy. In all the time we had been together, Luanne had always been a moaner and never a screamer. I only lasted a few seconds longer, as her pulsing, gripping pussy milked me like a machine on a cool morning at a Wisconsin dairy farm.

Luanne held me after our climaxes, while we let our pulse rates drop a bit, and would not let go; all the while telling me that she loved me. Finally, she relaxed and my cock slipped out of her pussy, leaving wet love traces all over the sheets.

A little while later, upon my return from taking a leak, I entered the bedroom to find Luanne on all fours with her ass pointed toward me. She was looking over her shoulder at me, arousal written all over her face again.

"Fuck me, Lover. I need you to fuck me again!" Luanne hissed at me. This was only somewhat unusual; rarely did she offer to let me do her doggie. In fact, we had never done anything much more adventurous than missionary and an occasional doggie in all our time together - not by my choice, though. Luanne never asked for more. I had not ever wanted to push things sexually with her; and we both seemed to be satisfied sexually, even with our limited repertoire. And there had never been any arguments about our sexual escapades.

I moved behind my wife's sexy body quickly, since Little Glenn had suddenly felt the need to put on another burst of energy. Holding Luanne's hips with my hands, I bent my knees slightly in order to facility alignment. Once I felt her fingers take my tip and get it centered, I pushed in smoothly, eliciting an, "Ooh, yes," from Luanne. This episode lasted about five minutes, bringing Luanne off twice with the shivers and moans, and a groan from me with several mind-blowing blasts of cum from the tip of my cock deep inside her grasping pussy.

Later, as we just lay in each other's arms, after both of us had cleaned up, I heard Luanne sigh.

"What is it, Sweetie?" I asked softly, kissing her hair on the top of her head as she lay with her cheek against my chest.

"Oh," here Luanne paused for almost five seconds, "I ... I just love you. That's all."

If I had not been so happy that she was home again, and worn out from our love session this evening and had been paying attention enough to her hesitation and had followed up, maybe - just maybe - I might have asked the right question. Only weeks later did I get the answer that helped me to realize the need for the question in the first place.

-

The ivory tower in which I had been living did not necessarily crumble down around me, as generally seems to happen when a husband discovers that all is not perfect in paradise. In my case, though, that tower did begin to develop a few cracks in the foundation about a week-and-a-half later, four days before Luanne was scheduled to fly back down to Birmingham for another two-week stay.

I routinely update our monthly expenses on my computer using a utility program that accompanies the tax preparation software that I use each year. This utility program allows me to enter Luanne's and my legitimately deductible expenses and keep track of them electronically. That way, when it comes time in March and April, at which time I get the chore of preparing tax returns for Uncle Sam and Uncle John (our current Governor), the tax program can just electronically 'inhale' the information about all our deductible expenses in a blink.

Luanne's travel and the apartment in Birmingham, that she maintained as a second residence in order to do her job, constituted legitimate major business expenses, well in excess of the two-percent adjusted gross income threshold. Thus, we were able to save some big bucks on taxes, provided we kept track of the expense details.

Luanne routinely maintained electronic copies of the receipts for all of her associated business expenses, while scanning the printed or mailed paper copies at her office into PDF files and storing them on her Surface tablet and then emailing them to me at the end of each week. By the previous Friday, the mid-week Friday, she had still not forwarded her expense file to me by email.

I realize now, after the fact, that, if I had not been so task-focused at that point on that Wednesday morning, I may not have discovered the evidence that proved that my wife was hiding a part of her life from me, evidence that changed my whole outlook about our marriage and our life together.

That Wednesday morning, Luanne had been checking email, weather, her favorite blog sites, and whatever else she checks before leaving for her workplace when she's here in Cincinnati in the morning. But, for some reason, she had absent-mindedly left her tablet computer on the counter on the way out the door. I did not have to be at work until mid-morning today, and I had a couple of hours to kill before I had to leave. I had grinned to myself at the idea of missing the early morning traffic slow-downs on the approaches to the bridge over the Ohio.

Seeing Luanne's computer on the peninsula-shaped counter in the kitchen, I realized that now would be a good time to reconcile her most recent expense files before she had to leave town on Sunday. I awakened her Surface computer and flicked my finger across the screen in order to bring up and open her documents files. My finger accidently tapped on another application icon and it brought up an open web browser in which I could see some of Luanne's email.

I did not know then if it was a good thing or a bad thing that I dwelled for a couple of seconds longer than I normally would have on what was open on the screen. Now, however, in hindsight, I realize that, even if I had just pushed on by and skipped those few seconds of perusal of what was on the screen in front of me, I still would have only been delaying the inevitable.

It was the email address names that caught my eye. Luanne was receiving quite a few messages from an email address called 'BamaBoy06.' When I opened one of these messages out of curiosity, I did not even get into the text of the message before I noticed that Luanne was using an email account that I did not know that she had opened, using the name 'OhioBabe08.'

What the shit was this all about?

Well, I guess that you can imagine, by now, that the electronic conversations I was moving through that morning had nothing to do with Luanne and me. But, they sure had everything to do with Luanne and some guy in the Birmingham area calling himself BamaBoy06!

You know how you read about the emotions of the husband moving through what amounts to the grief cycle when he discovers that his wife has been seeing another man, one who evidently (based on some of the steamy stuff I was reading there) causes her not just to moan during sex, but to scream? Well, that did not happen with me.

I went really quickly from shock to anger, and then to sadness and disappointment; and then back to a simmering case of simply being pissed off.

So, this guy, this BamaBoy06, evidently had the talent to get Luanne sexually wound up in bed and could get her body humming to a level that I never could. At least that is what I determined from the few emails that I read before quitting in disgust.

No. I did not reach for the bottle of Maker's Mark, as some of the guys in this situation that you read about do. Yes, I was pissed, but surprisingly not overcome by despair or any of that other emotional 'downer' crap I hear and read about from guys who discover that their wives are running around on them. I just poured another cup of black coffee and then tried to make some sense of what I needed to do next.

Well, obviously, I was not going to stay in a marriage with a cheating wife. Yes, I was still sad and disappointed, but I was also already thinking about the 'what next' phase of things. Guys tend to be problem solvers and process-oriented. This appeared to be a pretty easy problem to solve; simply get a divorce and move on. That answered the question about the process as well; get a lawyer, have her served, and move on with my life, hoping to find someone to replace Luanne in my heart and life while I am still in my late twenties, so that I can get on with the business of having a family somewhere down the line.

Did my love for Luanne die at that point? No. Of course not; I had loved and still did love Luanne, and I guess I felt more disappointment than anything else; but anger was running a close second to disappointment at that point. And my anger extended not only to Luanne, but to this asshole in Birmingham who had helped her to cause my problems.

Curiosity was running third.

Why would she seek comfort in the arms of another man in the first place? Why would she deceive me all these past months? Could it be something as simple as the quality of the sex?

Was I not man enough to satisfy her sexual needs sufficiently that she could not wait just two weeks each month to have me 'tickle her fancy?' Did she need something that I could not provide; financially, emotionally, or sexually?

Or could it simply be the stresses of her job that led to all of this? Oh, there were plenty of other questions that I would need to have answered and I was developing new questions in my mind as every second passed.

I knew that I needed to protect myself legally in case she decided to take action to divorce me. And I had to confront her, at some point in all of this, about her need for 'Southern Comfort, ' so to speak. But I could not corner her now; not until I knew more. But I had to ask myself if I really needed to know any more than I already knew. I mean ... her emails told me quite enough to decide on divorcing her; she had cheated and given her body to another man sexually. Did I really need to know any more than that?

Things were not as warm around our apartment that evening, or for the next three days. Luanne asked me several times what was causing me to be so down and withdrawn.

Yep. I lied like crazy.

I told her that the economic situation was causing everyone at my company to worry about the long-term stability of our jobs. Then I put on a fake smile and said to her, "I would hate to be out of work and not be able to support you, Sweetie." Then I gulped before continuing, "And we would not want to start having children at a time when we could not provide for them, would we?"

Luanne displayed what I thought at that moment was a very sad expression as she glanced away from me and looked at the far wall. Then she took a deep breath and I watched as she deliberately pasted a smile on her face; one that was definitely forced.

"Well, Honey; you know that I make a pretty decent living from what I do. Once all this split living is finished in a year or so, we should still be okay financially," Luanne said, now looking at me with what I would describe as expectation and hope written on her face.

That night, the Saturday night before she left on Sunday, we made sweet love, despite everything that I had discovered earlier. I felt sad that this beautiful woman, in whom I had invested my emotional future, could be so seemingly devoted to me, yet so duplicitous.

As I drove her out to the airport the next day, our normal bright conversational pattern was replaced by a strange silence in the car. Luanne's left hand reached out to lie gently on my right thigh as I drove, but she said very little and I only spoke in response to her.

As I stopped in the Departures lane to let Luanne out, she gave me one of her megawatt smiles and leaned in for her goodbye kiss. It was super hot, as usual. I knew from all these indications that she loved me; you just cannot hide that. But, inside, I could not understand why all the other shit was going on.

-

I hated the idea of divorce, even though I knew that it was the logical next step. I had seen it rip families completely apart and wring everyone out to dry financially.

Fortunately, Luanne and I were not overly in debt. I had paid off my college loans at around the turn of the previous year. Luanne still had a couple of years to go on hers, but, with the hefty income she was drawing down in her job, that should not be a problem for her. Living as we did in an apartment, we had not gotten to the point of home ownership yet, so our debt situation beyond student and car loans was not that great.

We each had investments through our work-related 401(k) plans, but the biggest investment that would be disrupted by all of this would be the emotional investment we had both put into our relationship. And I felt as if I could never recoup what I now considered to be almost four lost years.

I got a referral for a good divorce attorney through one of the guys at work who had gone through the ordeal about two years before. Evidently, the divorce business was booming in our area, because I had to wait three days to get an appointment for two hours of his time.

"Are you sure that reconciliation is not possible?" Mark Helmond, my attorney asked me, as we were filling out all the questionnaires and other forms necessary to begin the divorce proceedings. "Do you believe that counseling might help? I just ask because, if she contests the divorce, seven times out of ten, the judge in the case rules for mandatory counseling."

I took a breath and considered what he was asking. After a couple of more seconds, I responded. "No. I know Luanne. And I know that this is not a case that will be one of bitter fighting over money or other assets; hell, we don't have that much. And it is not that we do not love each other. It's just that I cannot remain married to a deceiver; a manipulator; a cheater. And I am pretty sure that, when I confront her, she will not fight about this."

"Okay, then," Helmond sighed and went on, "it should not be too difficult then. If you want the easy way out, we will file a petition for Dissolution of Marriage under the Ohio no-fault provisions. I presume that this is what you want; right? Otherwise, we can go for a petition for Divorce, using Adultery as grounds for the action." He was just giving me the options, I know. Everything I could read from his body language told me that he thought I would be better off simply going for a no-fault dissolution.

I might have still been pissed at the situation in which I had found myself, but I was not entirely stupid. I knew that it would be better for me financially, emotionally, and with respect to time and the ability to get on with my life, to take the easier option. I nodded to him and told him to go with the no-fault dissolution. I did not hate Luanne; I just hated what she had done to me ... to us.

We finished up and he stood to shake my hand. I would have very probably left Mr. Helmond's office and gone on with my life, awaiting the outcome of the dissolution proceedings, if his PA had not buzzed him at that moment.

"Mr. Helmond," came her voice over the intercom speaker, "I am sorry to interrupt your meeting but I have Paul in the outer office and he says that he needs to see you right now."

Helmond sighed and said, "I apologize as well; I guess it is good that we are finished with our business. The PI that I use in contested divorce cases is working on some time-sensitive stuff for me in another case and we need to get it resolved. I will be in touch."

And, with that dismissal of me, Helmond shook my hand and ushered me to the door to his outer office. A handsome man in a nice suit and a runner's body - not the image I had of the unshaven, overweight, poorly-dressed PI that I had from TV and reading - stood anxiously in the outer office and passed quickly around me and into Helmond's office as the PA showed me out of the main door. I had planned to leave and go about the rest of my daily business; but something made me stick around.

I stood in the hallway outside Helmond's office for about ten minutes, waiting for some reason. I had not planned to consider using a PI for my situation, since I was not going to Divorce Luanne for Adultery, and I did not figure that I needed any additional evidence. Hell, I had enough in the emails that I had surreptitiously forwarded to my account on the day that I had first discovered her deception.

But the nagging curiosity still lingered for some reason. Why? Why had she really done this to us? What was this lover of hers in Alabama giving her that I could not?

And, hell, I still had a bit of residual soreness in my ribs from being on the receiving end of one hell of an ass-whipping a couple of weeks earlier. Did that relate to all of this? I still had flashbacks about that big dude smacking me upside the head and my waking in the hospital later with sore ribs and bruised balls.

"Excuse me," I said to the PI, that I had earlier heard addressed as Paul, as he left Helmond's office suite and turned down the hallway in my direction.

He glanced at me, then beyond and around me (possibly assessing the situation for potential threats; he WAS a divorce investigator, after all, and people could get might angry and hold grudges in these cases), and back at my face once he was satisfied there was no reason for alarm.

"Yes, can I help you?" he asked.

"If you have a few minutes, I would like to talk to you about hiring you for something," I told him.