I asked her as a question. But I knew she wouldn’t have an answer for that, so I let her off the hook. “How is the trip? Are you teaching those people anything?” I tried so hard to cheer my voice up.
“Uh, Yea, I am, I am teaching them lots. I should be home by Saturday sometime,” She answered. I could tell she was trying too. .
“I miss you Abigail. You are my girl, you know that don’t you? Come home to me safe and sound, please.” I paused but just for a second. “Honey, Sam is getting cranky,” I lied, “I have to go. Call you tomorrow.”
I set the phone down. I knew but I didn’t want to know. I refused to say it out loud as I felt my heart rip apart.
Abigail was home one day, and I was off work. She wanted to cook for us, which scared the hell out of me. At one time Abigail was a good cook, but with all her travel she didn’t have much time to practice. She started looking around for her phone when she asked, “Roy, can you get me my phone out of my purse? The recipe is in it.”
“Sure” I said, the only proper answer one is allowed to give his wife. I opened her purse and looked on top; I didn’t see anything. I started to dig inside of it and pulled it up with two boxes of condoms… They were not our brand, and a few of them were missing. I cringed and picked up her purse and brought it to her.
“I have a rule, Abigail I don’t go into a woman’s purse, there are things in there no man should even know exist.” I tried to play it off as funny. I had gone into her purse before, so she looked at me funny when she took the purse.
The condoms were on top of the purse where I left them after digging in it to find the phone. So, when she opened it to look in, I saw her expression change dramatically. She quickly located her phone and took it out. She looked back at me and said, “That sounds like a good rule, Roy.”
I went to my study while she cooked. I turned to my laptop and typed in, “How do you know if your wife is cheating?” Of a twenty-question survey, she had five of twenty hard on. The other questions and answers actually gave me hope. Abigail still talked about “our future” with me, instead of talking about “hers”. She didn’t hide or keep her cell phone from me. She had never accused me of cheating; except for the Gloria incident many years before, I had never had to defend myself. She never bad-talked our marriage. Actually, she commented how wonderful it is and I am. She always looked good and there had been no change there. She was still a fountain of information and love. And she always listened and talked to me.
. I took a long time to think, and then I realized, I didn’t want to lose my wife. I loved her. I knew I would be more miserable without her than with her. So, this is what I surmised:
She was fucking other men. She was a very sexual woman and I couldn’t be enough, especially when she was away for work, so she was just filling the void. The sex with other men was not making love. Just like the men at school, she was just getting her rocks off; that was it. She wasn’t doing it around town, only out of town on trips, so none of our friends would ever find out. At least, God, I hoped they never found out. So, there would be no humiliation like I see in some cuckold lifestyles.
And one more thing. I knew, with all my heart, that my wife loved and respected me. Just me. She may fuck other men, but she loves me. As long as she didn’t start to have an affair and fall in love, I would be ok.
I decided one more thing. If I didn’t say it out loud, then the cheating wasn’t real. So, I decided that neither me nor Abigail would ever say a word. I wouldn’t allow it.
I started to go back into the kitchen with my new resolve, but Sam starts to get fussy, I walked to his playpen where I’d left him and changed his diaper. I looked at him closely and wondered for a moment… was he mine? I laughed to myself. He looked just like me, so there was no doubt he was my son.
Life went on and I kept with the denial. If I don’t say it aloud it isn’t true.
Abigail always took great care of me. One day she had gotten home and instead of dragging me up-stairs and more or less raping me as she always had since she’d gotten her latest job, she kissed me at the door and walked in being very coy and innocent. I instantly knew something was wrong. I was, believe it or not, keeping up with her cycle, and I knew she wasn’t due for almost two weeks. So I knew that her cycle wasn’t the reason. I tried to seduce her, but that was one of the very, very few times she refused me.
Her refusal made me frightened. We ate a nice dinner that I prepared, since her cooking skills weren’t well practiced After dinner she waited until I looked tired, and actually tried to sneak upstairs to go to bed. I let her think she was getting away with it. However, I snuck into the bedroom just at the right time.
She had just taken off her bra and was about to don a “don’t even think about touching me” flannel nightgown when I cleared my throat. She instantly turned and tried to cover her breasts. But she didn’t do a very good job. There were three suction bruises, two on one and one on the other.
I walked to her with a forced look of compassion, and slowly kissed her. Then I backed away and looked at her breasts. “Baby, just look at you, what did you do; fall down the stairs?” I asked. Then I bent down and kissed each of the hickies several times each. I then kissed the nipples and raised my head up and kissed her. “You need to be more careful. I am just glad you weren’t seriously hurt.
“I will be, trust me. I will be much more careful.”
I then led her to the bed and made love to my wife. I guess I was reclaiming what was mine, because I spent a lot of time on her breasts that night.
Three years later, I was making love to my wife after another trip one where she had been gone for almost four days. I hated her long trips. As I made love to her, I noticed it felt different. I came deep inside of her and then, I fell to the side, not wanting to lay on top of her. I held her in my arms.
“That was wonderful, Roy!! Wow.”
I smiled a huge smile. “You know you are pregnant, don’t you,” I said as sort of a question. I heard her stifle a laugh. But I knew that she was in fact pregnant. “I am not pregnant,” She stated.
“I will buy an E. P. T., and if I am right what do I get?”
She smiled. “You always like to pretend to rape me, don’t you?”
I loved to role play with my wife, and that one is one of my favorites. “Tenant, landlord?” I asked.
“Sure,” She answered.
“Three times, not the same day?” I asked, digging for more information.
“Sure,” she said confidently.
“I will be right back.”
“Hey what do I get when I am right?” she asked.
“Little chance of that… Anything you want. For a month. I will be your slave in any way that you want,” I answered as I walked out the door to get an E. P. T.
Forty-five minutes later, she was white as a ghost staring at the pregnant symbol on both E. P. T. s.
She was white not because she had to pretend to be molested by me three times, but because, and I knew this then and more so now, she wasn’t sure whether the baby was mine. That worried me a lot. But I let it go. As long as the baby was somewhat my color, I could deal with anything else. If the baby was black or even Hispanic or something, I didn’t know if I could handle that. I could handle being cuckolded so long as she didn’t humiliate me doing it. If the baby so obviously didn’t look like me, it would kill our marriage.
I held her all night long. I think she cried some, and I pretended they were tears of joy even though I knew they were from fear. I tried to reassure her that I was her rock, and everything was going to be ok…
Six months later, she gave birth to my pride and joy, a little girl. Abigail told me to name her. My smile couldn’t have been bigger, “There is only one name that comes to mind when I see someone this beautiful… Abigail.” I said. “We will call her Abby though. So, we won’t get confused.”