Wife plots revenge on cheating husband

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Welcome to my first attempt at a loving wives story. I’m finding it difficult to describe how it fits into the various types of LW tales, so permit me to describe what it is not. There is no cuckold, swapping, BTB, or RAAC. There is also very little sex. It’s just a quick story about a wife that deals effectively with a cheating husband.


Annie sat in the meadow with dynamite placed underneath her. Her fate seemed to depend upon the outcome of a tough conversation. Marcy Murray had the detonator in her hand as she looked out the window of the farmhouse at her husband’s true love. When her husband, John, arrived home, there would be decisions for him to make. His answers could determine the direction of an explosive ending.

Earlier That Week

For a Sunday in April, it was pleasant and warm at the Murray’s farm in central Ohio. The smell of spring flowers filled the air to Marcy’s delight. John, however, couldn’t stop sneezing. The hibiscus and the tulips aggravated his allergies and he was just thankful they wouldn’t be in bloom much longer.

Marcy gazed with the glow of spring fever at her beloved flowers, but noticed how their beauty put the old house to shame. John had fixed up the barn over the winter, but the white paint on the house looked dirty and was peeling off revealing that old ugly green underneath. Several boards clearly needed replacing, and a few shingles drooped over the edge of the roof.

She spotted Duke, their faithful black lab on the porch. It wasn’t too long ago that he would run to her whenever she was outside and greet her with rapid tongue and playful yips. She lamented that even her playful puppy was now an old dog. Her initial spring joy quickly dissolved and she felt older and a bit depressed.

“Good morning, Pastor.”

“John! Good to see you.”

Marcy and John Murray looked forward to church every week. They had lots of friends at the little Baptist church, and it was also the day they were guaranteed to see both of their daughters and their families. Their twenty-six years of marriage resulted in two lovely girls, a grandson by their oldest daughter, and a granddaughter on the way from their younger girl. It was the family tradition to attend church together and then feast on the Sunday brunch buffet at the Madison Inn. It was always the highlight of their week.

“You gonna keep me awake with your sermon this morning?”

“I hope so. You’re my visual barometer for how I’m doing up there.”

“Oh, I see our girls over there. I’ll give you your grades after the service.”

“Be gentle with those grades, John. We need more folks with the gift of encouragement these days.”

They started walking towards their family when Marcy shared an observation with her husband.

“Look, Honey. The young lady our girls are chatting with. Is that Cindi Shaw? She looks like that baby will pop out of her any day.”

“If I remember correctly, you had a similar look when you were having each of our girls. Seems like only yesterday.”

“When did we seem to get so damn old?”

Marcy waited for any response from her husband. His opportunity to say something like, ‘You’re still the prettiest girl,’ or some form of compliment was just hanging out there without being grasped. She heard nothing. There was no affirmation of his undying love or continued desire for her. The depression that was creeping into her seemed to deepen. ‘I must be as tired looking as that damn, old house,’ she thought. Only the youthful spirit of her children and grandson kept her from completely giving in to her foul mood.

After the service, the family was in line to greet the pastor when Marcy noticed Lucy Rawls trying to get her attention. ‘Darn,’ she thought. ‘What does the old busy-body want with me?’ She excused herself from the family and wandered toward Lucy in the front of the sanctuary where they would be alone.

“Lucy, what’s the matter?”

“Oh, Marcy. You know I don’t like to spread rumors, but I saw something with my own eyes that I think you should know about.”

‘Right,’ Marcy thought. ‘She’d rather start rumors than spread them.’

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