Wife cuckolds blustering husband with his friends

I know I didn’t do this right. I probably wouldn’t do it again, but this is how it happened and was probably the most likely result under any circumstance.

Jim and I had been married 21 years. At the time Jim would have told you it was a great 21 years. I would have said so too, but I’d have been lying. Marriage was what I expected. My parents were married for 50 years. I don’t really remember them being affectionate towards each other. That was where we were.

He and I dated for 12 months before we got engaged and we were married 3 months later. He was a good looking, hard working man. He was forceful and opinionated in the way he talked and acted, at the time I saw it as a strength and not a detriment.


Jim had a good government job and provided us a nice middle class life. We weren’t rolling in money, but we’d just paid off our mortgage early, we could afford new cars every 5-6 years, we had money for the girls college, and could splurge on a nice vacation every other year. We had Jim’s pension and did good enough in savings that we had some investments and owned 2 rental houses.

We had our girls and things went along normally. I settled into marriage. I was a stay at home mother. I raised my kids, kept house, and made dinner. Our marriage was what I thought marriage was. Actually what we both thought it was.

We had friends, mostly my friends, parents of kids my kids went to school with. We were invited to BBQs and sometimes went out with other couples. His friends were a few guys he worked with and one or two of the husbands in our group. The girls got older and after the girls were 16 I took a part time job working in a small boutique owned by a friend. Life went on.

During this time Jim put on about 40 lbs. I kept my figure. I was proud of it. I hit the gym 2-3 days a week, did weights, and swam. At 5’4, 130, shoulder length auburn hair, I still turned a head or two. I was always mistaken for being in my 30s. When the girls hit high school, every once in awhile they would mention that a friend thought I was hot. Their girl friends would often tell me I was pretty. In our social circle there were a few of us wives who kept their figure, but most hadn’t.

During our marriage one thing bothered me often. We didn’t really communicate. Jim lectured. I did what was needed to manage the house. Jim was opinionated and very judgemental. What seemed strong when I was young, became just obnoxious as I got older. His opinion was right and anyone who disagreed was stupid. It made me sad when he went off. Some of the topics were interesting or, if it was about things that happened in our social group, I would have liked to have been part of a discussion. It was always Jim lecturing.

it was always something. When a local boy got arrested for pot, Jim railed about it being his parents fault and that they were bad people who couldn’t control their child.

He’d say, “I would show that kid what for and he would never do that again,” or, “I’d throw that kid out. See how much pot he can afford on his own.”

Then he’d look at me and say “It’s a good thing we raised our girls right. They would never do such a thing.”

I wouldn’t reply. He wasn’t looking for a reply he was just lecturing. I’d laugh inside since I was pretty sure our girls now 18 and 19 had smoked pot once in awhile when they were in high school.

When a neighbor’s girl got pregnant. He would go on about how his girls knew that they shouldn’t have sex at that age and how their parents couldn’t control her. Why were they letting her date that boy anyway. He’d say he would have slapped the kid and sent him running or scared him with his gun. How he’d use his gun to force the kid to, “Do the right thing.”

All the while I’d be thinking about how I’d put the girls on the pill at 16 after having long discussions with them.

These lectures would go on for days. As long as the topic was a hot part of the neighborhood or work gossip he would go on.

The worst rants were when someone’s marriage ended or was in trouble. Our group like any other had its share of couples with problems. He would throw blame everywhere.

“He’s such a wimp. He doesn’t know how to handle his wife.”

“She was always a bitch.”

“She’s just a whiner.”

“He’s an ass.”

In almost every case of divorce the man moved out.

“I wouldn’t move out. It’s my house. Why should I be the one to move?”

Sometimes he’d go on about their sex life.

“I bet that guy couldn’t satisfy her. She needs a real man,” or, “She’s frigid, I bet she barely has sex him him. I would leave too.”

One time a woman took her husband back after he cheated. They’d stayed together. He’d go off about once a cheater always a cheater and how stupid it was to take the loser back.

It was funny and maddening to hear this. Our sex life was what I expected. We’d have sex 2-3 times a month. If I was lucky I’d have an orgasm during sex about once a month. We had 2 positions. Him on top, me on top. When home alone, I had a vibrating friend I visited at least 3-4 times a week.

We didn’t do oral. Funny thing, I would have, I probably would have done a lot of things. He just never asked, I never offered.

There wasn’t a lot of romance or lead up to sex. No playful teasing. No hugs during the day. No making out on the couch. In fact, we rarely kissed anymore. Quick kisses hello goodbye. To initiate sex, He might roll over in bed, slide his hands up my chest and play with my breasts, and say “How ’bout it,” or maybe, “How ’bout a back rub.”

I never said no. I mean he never asked when I was sick or on my period, so for the most part I had no reason to say no. Plus, I liked sex. More would have been good, if it were accompanied by some flirting or romance.

My fantasies with my vibrator ranged from a romantic strong man winning my heart and taking me, to being picked up in a biker bar and used. He would die if he knew my fantasies or even that I had a vibrator.

So, given all this it often tied my stomach up to hear him talk about others like that.

At parties or get togethers he’d go off when he had an audience. Most people would either not respond or stand there nodding their heads in silence. He took this as agreement and would go on with his rant.

He of course didn’t see any of this. In his eyes he had the perfect marriage and life and I’m think to the outside world it looked that way. I often wondered how they talked about us when we weren’t there. Not expecting anything different, I didn’t complain.

On the other hand. I would talk to the wives. We were friends. We’d chat online, text, they’d visit the boutique. We stayed in touch. I would always hear at least the wife’s side of the story. I held the mother whose daughter got pregnant. I’d talked for hours with the woman whose husband left her. Most stories were sad, complicated, and not simplistic to deal with as Jim would think. They made me think about the communication in my marriage.

I think the one that finally set me off was when one of my friends had an affair. Afterwards they had stayed together and worked it out. She told me all about it. She wasn’t proud of it. Her husband was not a bad man. He just wouldn’t listen to her. She felt smothered and lost and she felt she was losing herself. They’d tried counseling, but he was convinced it was her. It wasn’t till the affair that he was shocked into paying attention. He didn’t want his current life or his marriage to disappear. They started working on it together.

Jim went on for months about how he’d never have stayed, that she was a slut. How he would have beat up her, or him, or both of them. He claimed he would kill one of them. He said he’d divorce her and take everything they had. The rant would change but he’d still rant.

Everytime he saw one of them, or saw them together he would start again. He’d call her a cheating bitch, and him a wuss. It was a lot to hear.

The second thing that happened was on one of our nights out. We were sitting in a pub type restaurant and I noticed a couple sitting at the bar. They weren’t really talking. I don’t even think Jim noticed. I watched for a while. Soon another guy came into the bar. He sat down next to her but leaving a respectful seat between them.

After a little while the woman and the guy started talking. He talked to the man the woman was with also, but mostly the woman. They became engaged in conversation. Then he moved from his one seat away right next to the woman. It was about then Jim noticed.

“Look at that,” he said. “It looks like he’s hitting on her. If that were me I’d tell the guy to take a hike.”

“Why?” I asked. “They’re just talking.” I knew it was a mistake as soon as I said it.

“Why’s he talking to her?” he started. “She’s obviously with that other guy. Most guys don’t talk to women unless they’re hitting on them.”

He went on about how disrespectful it was and how he’d punch the guy out and drag his girlfriend out of there. He’d make sure she didn’t disrespect him again. I just listened to him rant.

I just listened. There was no use in saying anything.

One Saturday night it came to a head.

Jim had invited 3 guys he worked with over to play cards. I’d met the guys and I didn’t mind. They were nice enough. They were polite to me and it was Jim’s home and he was welcome to have his friends here.

The night started out normally. I welcomed the guys and got some snacks. They sat around the table talking and playing cards while I went in the other room to watch TV. It wasn’t a party or anything. No one drank to excess. I was meeting people so, of course, I had on a nice pair of jeans, brushed my hair, and a little makeup, but nothing I wouldn’t wear to the grocery store.

Generally I could hear what the guys were saying. I usually didn’t pay attention, this time, one of the guys, Enrique, started talking about a friend of his who was getting divorced. He had to pay alimony and child support and was struggling to get back on his feet. The ex wife already had a boyfriend and they were moving in together into her, their, old house with her kids.

That set Jim off. He retold the story of our friend. He went on about how he would have beat the new boyfriend silly and have tossed her out of the house. I listened to this story again. I don’t know why, something just hit me.

I didn’t really have a plan. I went in the kitchen. Jim, Frank, Lloyd, and Enrique were all playing cards.

“Whatchya talking about,” I asked sounding innocent. I knew, but I wanted them to tell me.

Jim jumped in. He told me Enrique’s story about his friend. Then he went on and retold the story about our friends. He went on about what he would do to whom and how. The parts about hitting the guy or the wife really bothered me.

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