Erotic stories – Day for a White Wedding – Cheating wife

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Erotic stories,, day for a White ..What can I say? I was blindsided. My Maggie had just laid a big bombshell on me… make that two big bombshells on me.

“Mac, we need to talk.” She said as I came in from work. She was still dressed in her business suit from where she worked as an accountant. I was dressed in my coveralls from where I worked, overseeing my chocolate business.

I’m Angus ‘Mac’ MacDougall, and my wife is Margaret Sullivan-MacDougall. Yes, she hyphenates her last name. Pretty pretentious, if you ask me. But whatever. She goes by Maggie. I’m of Scottish descent, and she’s of Irish descent. Of course, that should have been my first clue that we weren’t really compatible, but shit! I was in love with her golden blonde hair and green eyes and rockin’ body at first sight!

We’d met ten years earlier when I’d just gotten out of the Army and we started college together. She was 18, and I was 22. I was using the G.I. Bill to get a culinary degree, and she was going for, of course, the aforementioned Accounting degree. For some odd reason, we hit it off.

It was probably that she was a chocolate connoisseur, and I wanted to make chocolate candy and cookies and basically anything chocolate, come to think of it. My Mom had a thing for chocolate, and so did a lot of women. It was a seller’s market, with chocolate always in high demand.

While most businesses do most of their sales at Christmas time, chocolateers can make bank all year ’round. Christmas, of course, but also Valentine’s Day, Easter, Independence Day, etc. et al. Valentine’s Day is in a dead heat with Christmas for chocolate demand, and my little chocolate shop/factory does better business at Valentines than Christmas, most years.

Oh, and I HATE my first name. Angus. Seriously, mom? You HAD to go and name me fuckin’ Angus?! I introduce myself as Mac to everyone. NOBODY calls me Angus, not even my wife. Ok, Mom and Dad call me Angus, but ONLY when they’re pissed off at me. Every other time, I’m Mac.

So Maggie had just told me that we needed to talk. I tensed up immediately, since EVERY GUY ON EARTH knows what those four words mean when strung together in a sentence. We know it and fear it. “We need to talk” has been the forerunner of break-ups and Divorces since the dawn of time.

So it was with a sense of impending doom that I sat down at he table and looked at her. I knew my world was about to come crumbling down around me. 10 years together. 8 of those happily married. Well, I had been happily married. I had believed the same of Maggie. I flashed through the possible reasons for what she was about to say.

Sex? No way! We had sex on a regular basis, usually 4 or 5 times a week, and marathon sessions at that! I NEVER failed to get her off multiple earthshattering times. We had a great sex life!

Money? Not likely. I was pulling down 6 figures a year net, close to a quarter mill after everything was settled with overhead, payroll for my employees, taxes, etcetera. We were doing very well here. Our combined income was close to $375K a year. We were NOT hurting.

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