The Misunderstanding

It was a staid meeting on a late spring, Tuesday afternoon in a high-rise office building in Raleigh. The three o’clock afternoon break rolled around as a temporary relief from the tedium at hand. The attendees rose gratefully from their seats, stretched, refilled coffee cups, and relaxed.

I rose with the rest of the attendees. My function was to provide legal advice to two tech companies in Research Triangle that were merging their businesses. This meeting was to hammer out the final details. Things were going quite smoothly. It was just a routine and very stodgy business meeting.

I made the dull six-plus hour drive from my home in Atlanta yesterday. The meeting was scheduled to last through Thursday afternoon, and I would then make the same monotonous return drive home Friday morning. It was just a profitable but dull week in the life of an commercial business lawyer.

I excused myself and went to the men’s room at the start of the break. As I returned to the conference room, I stopped in the hall briefly to check for messages on my phone. There were a couple of minor questions from the Atlanta office that could wait until later and one from my wife, Julie.

As I headed back into the meeting, I dutifully glanced at Julie’s text to see what she wanted. My jaw dropped in shock as I read my wife’s stunning, terse missive.

The message began with a caricature of a grinning, red she-devil placing a rack of horns on a doleful-looking man sitting on a stool. Julie is an author and a skilled computer graphic artist who enjoys making computer art work. This had the hallmarks of some of her tongue-in-cheek clip-art renderings.

The text under the figure read simply: “You said you fantasized about me with other men. Okay, you have your wish now, my little cuckold. Details in email.”

I sat through the rest of the day’s meeting on tenterhooks. I didn’t want to explore Julie’s email on my phone while sitting in front of other people in the meeting. It would have to wait, but I was dying to know what in the world was going on with my wife. This sounded insane.

My emotions were in a roil. Red hot anger and green-eyed jealousy raged in furious competition with one another. My wife was screwing another man and letting me know about it by text while I was 400 miles away; how else was I supposed to feel?

At the same time I was utterly humiliated and embarrassed. My bile boiled, and acid indigestion clawed at my throat. I broke out in a sweat, and my face felt flushed with shame. I realized that I had probably stupidly triggered my wife’s adultery.

A month ago, as Julie and I sat in rocking chairs on our back porch one Friday evening, we consumed several stout Manhattans, well above our normal limit of one. We were talking about sexual fantasies, and both of us became pretty uninhibited under the influence of old man Barleycorn.

Somewhere in the midst of that free-ranging and unfettered discussion, I remarked that she was such a sultry little minx that I would love to just sit and watch her having sex with another man. I am not sure what triggered that observation. However, under the influence of the alcohol, the idea of her undulating and whooping in passion while I simply sat and watched seemed to be incredibly sexy at the time. What a dumb idea.

Julie just laughed and said, “Pervert! That’s not ever going to happen.”

Then with a quizzical smile, she asked, “That would certainly be fun for me, but honey, why in the world does playing the cuckold seem like fun to you?”

I shrugged my shoulders and said nonchalantly, “I don’t know. I enjoy observing you when we have sex and especially when you have an orgasm. I guess that is all; you’re just fascinating to watch when you are in the throes of it. Even, like now, just imagining you entwined passionately with a lover strikes me as highly erotic. Sexy nudes are a big part of the art world in painting and sculpture; maybe it is all wrapped up in some kind of genetic awe of the public sexuality of the female.”

Julie looked at me curiously and just said, “Oh,” in a thoughtful tone.

I forgot about the incidence until now. Obviously, Julie took it under further and more serious advisement.

When the meeting finally ended at 5:30, I begged off of going to happy hour and dinner with the gang by lying that I had a memo to get back to the office tonight. I hurried back to my room in a swivet and opened up my private email account on my laptop. As promised, there was an email from my wife.

It read: “Honey, you shared your fantasy about me being with another man, which was surprising and, I must admit, a little unsettling. Nevertheless, it was your personal fantasy so I’m not judging. We all have our own peculiar sexual peccadillos. You listened to mine sympathetically. So fair is fair, I’ll indulge your fantasy too.”

“Well, this morning I stopped in Starbucks for a Latte after making a run to the post office first thing after it opened. The line at Starbucks’ was long at that time of the morning, and I got to chatting with this very attractive man in front of me. His name is Jim, by the way. He got one of those super big blueberry muffins and a gourmet Columbia-bean coffee, paid for my Latte, and graciously invited me to join him while we drank our coffees.”

“I had planned to take my Latte home and get back to the grind of writing on my new novel – the one I have been working on these last six weeks. You know how those publisher deadlines have a nasty habit of slipping up on me!”

“But then I remembered your fantasy of me with another man and thought I could tease you a little bit about my having coffee with a good looking hunk like Jim. Did I mention Jim has blond hair, blue eyes, and is built like a Hollywood macho man? Whoo Hoo!”

“I only intended to flirt a little with Jim. Nothing serious. Harmless stuff. Just a little naughty something to stir up your cuckold fantasy and whet your male jealousy for our mutual amusement over a drink upon your return.”

“Jim shared his muffin with me, and we chattered away like magpies. And then Jim got refills of our coffees for us. They really have delightful coffee at Starbucks. Anyway, Jim is a really sweet and witty guy. Very easy to talk to.”

“Then your cuckold fantasy popped up in my mind again. It was like a wild colorful, kaleidoscope of swirling, sexy images running rampant in my mind’s eye. Well, it is your fantasy request, so why not!”

“I don’t understand your take on this cuckold stuff, I must admit. But if it turns you on, it is all okay with me. Don’t worry about me; this is all for your enjoyment.”

“Well, one thing just led naturally to another, and I brought Jim home with me instead of the Latte like I originally planned.”

“Goodness me, I certainly enjoyed your fantasy! That well hung stallion smothered your wife’s hot lips with fiery, passionate, probing kisses, sucked my tits until I squealed for mercy, licked and fingered my steaming pussy to orgasm after orgasm, and then deeply plowed and thoroughly seeded my personal Garden of Eden. It was all done to my utter and complete satisfaction time and again.

“Between his fingers, tongue, and dick, I lost count of how many orgasms Jim bestowed upon this old gal. Hmm, hmm, that boy Jim had your stodgy ol’ wife singing the Hallelujah Chorus at the top of her lungs for over three hours. God, what a stud, and such stamina!”

“Okay, now I have given you an installment on your fantasy. You are now officially a cuckold. I’m not sure why that is a fun for you, but your fantasy request has been fulfilled in spades! Turned out I had much more fun obliging you than I expected. – Love Julie”

“PS. I have a date with Jim tomorrow too. He’s stopping by after work for happy hour – and the happy in happy hour is not referring to alcohol! So enjoy!”

“PSS. You said you wanted to watch. That’s not possible since you are in Raleigh and your wife is getting fucked in Atlanta. It is too distracting to try to zoom, film, or get still shots when I am having this much fun. Instead I attached some drawings I did from memory. I am sure that vivid imagination of yours can fill in all of the missing details. That should do the trick for you! Ta Ta.”

Two files were attached to the email. They were Julie’s skillful computer drawings. Julie had won awards for her computer graphics in college, and these were detailed and lurid.

One drawing showed Julie with legs splayed open and a man with his face buried in my wife’s pussy as he kneels at the side of the bed. The man appears well toned but is largely obscured by my wife’s shapely legs clenched around him. His obviously muscular arms loop around Julia’s thighs and lock over her abdomen. No doubt he is trying to restrain my wife’s passionate thrashings. Julie’s hands are clenched in the man’s hair pulling him into her. She is half raised with her eyes squinched shut and mouth open in an “oh” of orgasmic delight.

Over our courtship and marriage I have been very generous with gifts of jewelry to Julie. Last Christmas she asked for an armoire in which to store the jewelry, and I obliged with an expensive cherry chest armoire. Julie’s drawing showed the armoire in the background behind my wife being eaten alive by Jim. She made her point that the physical ravishment of my willing wife was taking place in our marital bed.

Julie is the literary type and delights in allegory and metaphors. In Julie’s creative style, the armoire in the drawing represents this marital pirate’s rapine and plundering of my nuptial treasure trove while I sit helpless in North Carolina.

The other figure attached to the email is from above with the man now in the missionary position on top of Julie. He is industriously fucking my wife whose arms and legs are wrapped around her stud. Here, his massive broad shoulders, powerful thrusting hips, and well toned physique are on graphic display. I fear I compare unfavorably against this hunk of male machismo. Julie is looking over his shoulder grinning up at me and winking.

I read the email several times and examined the pictures with a sinking feeling. Then I poured a stiff scotch from the room’s mini-bar. I needed to talk with Julie. This has gotten way out of hand.

I didn’t mean for her to really do it. It was just an intriguing idea for an imaginary sexual fantasy to talk about among ourselves while consuming adult libations. She wasn’t supposed to go out and actually fuck somebody for my fantasy.

I have to put an end to this nonsense right now. I picked up my cell phone and called Julie. There was no answer, and it went to voicemail. I hung up and sent a text for her to call me right away; it was critically important.

A couple of minutes later, a chiding text popped up on my phone from Julie: “No, no, no. The wife is in charge. At least, my research on cuckolds said this is what should really turn you on. The studies all say you have to squirm and twist in the wind as you imagine me warmly welcoming Jim between my thighs. You know I will be screaming passionate encouragements to him while he fucks your wife silly. That is supposed to be the fun part for you.”

“I won’t be taking any calls or responding to texts or emails from you during my steamy little affair. You can’t stop it or change your mind now; it’s too late. As I understand it, you are supposed to enjoy the mental pain and suffering from your wife openly fucking another man. I’m just trying to give you what you want, dear. We’ll discuss it all when you get home Friday. Enjoy your fantasy! – Love Julie”

I am stuck at this meeting tomorrow. We made very good progress today so I can tell them I have to cancel out Thursday. Then I’ll drive home tomorrow night and bring this misunderstanding to a close. My wife is getting laid by another man, and this has to stop. What a total screw-up. Talk about a misunderstanding!

At 1:30 the following afternoon in the midst of my meeting, my phone vibrated with a text from Julie. I surreptitiously glanced at the text which read: “Hi Dear – I couldn’t wait. Went downtown for a delightful nooner with Jim at the hotel next to his office. Goodness me, I just can’t wait to serve up another generous piece of your wife’s ass for Jim at happy hour tonight when we will have more time to be very, very naughty. Hope you are enjoying your fantasy as much as I am. Much Love – Julie” The text closed with a smiley face emoji and a winking face emoji.

I desperately pushed the meeting along as fast as I could while I imagined what my wife had just done and was getting ready to do again shortly. The meeting drug on until four o’clock before I finally got on the road back home to Atlanta.

About five I reached Greensboro and couldn’t help but think Julie should be welcoming her stud stallion for a very aerobic happy hour about now. In my mind’s eye, I kept seeing the emailed drawing of Jim enthusiastically fucking my wife while she grinned and winked at me. I felt a hot burning in my face, whether from fury or shame, I could not say.

I struggled through the onerous traffic, knowing my wife was busy, no doubt very busy, with her paramour. I picked up my pace dodging through traffic when I could and keeping an eye peeled for highway patrolmen.

Whatever time I made earlier by recklessly rushing through traffic evaporated in the tangle of Charlotte rush hour. At about seven, my phone dinged that a message had arrived. I stopped at the next rest area and read the text from my wife “Honey – OOOOH my, that is all a girl can say after that happy-hour!! Will email details for your enjoyment later. Need a nap now. – With Love, Your Very Naughty Wife!” It closed with a kissy face emoji.

I got back on the road with renewed determination to get home ASAP and straighten this fiasco out.

Feelings of inadequacy swept over me. From Julie’s drawings it was obvious this guy Jim was an absolute Adonis. He was obviously hell on wheels in bed, and my wife cannot get enough of him.

I am no slacker in the physical appearance department or in my mastery of the bedroom arts, or at least so I always believed. Now, I am being bested in both by this male satyr who has bewitched my wife. I slammed my fist on the steering wheel and pulled my hair in frustration as I drove. It did no good. A better man was fucking my wife’s lights out in my absence. And worse, she was loving it!

I pushed on through the darkening night, traveling well above the speed limit. About eight-thirty I stopped at a Wendy’s for a bathroom break, coffee, and a sandwich. They had a good Wi-FI signal so I used my laptop to see if Julie had sent her email about the latest shenanigans with Jim.

I was desperate to find out details about my wife’s illicit affair, or was it a licit affair since I more or less pushed her into it? Regardless, discovering more details about her fucking Jim was akin to picking at an itching scab. The process stings cruelly, but you just cannot help yourself and must pick away despite the pain, shame, and stupidity of doing so.

Julie’s email popped up. “Honey, I have to tell you that nooner at the hotel was quite the risque adventure for your staid old wife. I’ve never checked into a hotel in the middle of the day with a man and no luggage and then checked back out an hour later.”

“The girls behind the desk were smirking and giggling as we came and went. They all knew exactly what we were about to do and then knew exactly what we had just done. The cheeky blonde behind the counter even said she hoped everything went satisfactorily as I paid the bill. I just gave her a naughty grin and assured her that I found everything most satisfactory in every department and the service had been outstanding. We all started teasing back and forth.”

“I felt so naughty and scandalous; I behaved like a real Moll Flanders! One minute I was embarrassed to death; the next I was giddy with excitement. The whole time I was turned-on like I had latched onto a high voltage line!”

“I think the feminine sparring and the bevy of giggling females behind the desk were embarrassing poor Jim. He turned an attractive scarlet as our racy girl chatter and naughty double entendres shot back and forth.”

“Oh by the way, I charged the room on Visa so you even get to pay for my bed-sheet tango with Jim. I saved the receipt as a souvenir for your cuckold fetish collection or whatever.”

“And then, my goodness, that was some happy hour we had at home later in the afternoon. Oh, that Jim played your wife like a grand maestro. He plucked her every key to perfection until she was howling and begging for mercy. And then that crescendo! God, each time left your wife barely comatose, limp as boiled spaghetti, and unable to do anything but mewl happily and sigh in total contentment.”

“Well, I certainly re-horned you, my little cuckold. In very grand fashion this time! That boy is a girl’s dream fantasy in bed. He is just sooo virile and potent!”

“I am really starting to get the hang of your fantasy and am enjoying this game much more than I ever dreamed I possible!”

I attached two new drawings to tantalize your libido. See what you are missing being up there in Raleigh! – With much love from your very well-laid wife.”

Julie’s first artistic computer rendering showed a side view of Jim fucking my wife doggie style. He really is a big bull of a man with a noble, classic profile, a Romanesque nose, and strong jaw line. His hands are gripping my wife’s shoulders as he deeply impales her on his dick with his powerful, virile thrusts. His face is creased with a triumphant, gleeful smile as he defiles my wife with her happy consent.

My wife’s face is turned toward me in the figure. She is beaming at me with large, languid eyes and a happy, slutty smile with the tip of her tongue peeking out impishly. She is also giving me a thumbs up. It appears Jim’s servicing of my wife is meeting with her feminine approval.

The next artistic rendering struck me even harder, somehow. It showed only her hand and forearm clutching sheets in the obvious writhe of a passionate orgasm. The engagement ring and wedding band I gave my wife six years ago are clearly visible in this artistic rendering of my wife’s erotic flailings under Jim’s masterful virile ministrations.

I gulped down my coffee and sandwich and hit the road to Atlanta again. The hot coffee blistered the roof of my mouth, and the sandwich sat in my gut like an indigestible bowling ball. Anger, jealousy, and humiliation washed over me in successive and burning waves. I have things to straighten out at home.

A little after ten I finally pulled into our driveway, opened the garage door with my remote, and parked in the garage. I entered the kitchen, and across the way, I saw Julie leaning with crossed arms against the doorway that led from the kitchen and dining area back to the rear hall and bedrooms.

She wore a lacy, diaphanous gown draped on her hourglass and otherwise naked feminine figure. The gown was unfamiliar to me.

Judging by the lack of cloth material that incompletely covered my wife’s body between the short bottom and plunging, low-cut top, my wife’s lingerie did not cost the company much to manufacture.

My wife stared at me with an unflinching gaze and a thoroughly amused smile.

It seemed I was really seeing Julie for the first time with new eyes. She’s an athletic thirty-year old with shoulder length auburn colored hair who stands in at five foot four. Her hazel eyes change color from amber to green depending on what she wears and the ambient light which always lends a bit of exotic mystery to her.

With typical feminine self doubt about her appearance, Julie complains that her nose is too long, her boobs are too small, and so forth. In fact, she is a charming and well proportioned young woman who catches the male eye just by existing. I was fortunate that such a delightful creature had cast her fortunes in with mine and agreed to marriage six years ago.