Nine Inches Beats 20 Years

Something more

I am a not only a very bad judge of character, but apparently I don't know a damn thing about love either.

I just watched my best friend from college drive away from my house with my wife, theoretically never to be seen by me again.

Things sure seemed a lot different 48 hours ago when this weekend started. Then I was worried that my wife, the love of my life for 20 years, wouldn't get along with my old college roommate, who was going to stay at the house for the weekend after visiting my city on a business trip. Larry could be a shithead on occasion, and my somewhat proper wife, Traci, didn't brook too much shit from people who thought a lot of themselves.

Traci was going at be at the house alone with Larry for about an hour until I got home Friday evening, and I could have seen a shitstorm brewing for the whole weekend if something went wrong in that hour. But I had warned Larry to be on his best behavior until I got home, then if he wanted to be a dickhead, at least I would be there to run interference.

Larry and I had roomed together for our last two years of college, and he was as close to me as a brother at that time of my life. But we had gotten jobs on opposite sides of the country, and as we had both gotten married and raised kids, we just hadn't ever visited, although he had stayed in touch by phone. When his business sent him here for a four-day conference, he called me and asked if we could get together. I didn't hesitate to invite him to stay for the weekend, even though I knew Traci probably wouldn't be too happy about it.

So when I walked in the door Friday evening, I was relieved to see Larry and Traci talking from the opposite ends of our sofa in the den. He was wearing sweats and a golf shirt and looking totally comfortable with a beer in his hand, and Traci looked like her usual beautiful self in a fairly tight pair of white shorts and a somewhat tight red stretch top that I like because it clung to her big tits. Traci is 45 but looks 35, with long blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes. She is somewhat of a gym rat and has the body to show for it. I am a lucky man, and from the look on Larry's face, I could tell that he could see it.

Traci looked a little red in the face when I entered the room and went over to Larry for a man hug. I then turned to her for my welcome-home kiss and hug, and for a brief second there I thought I picked up the same smell on her hair that I got from Larry when we hugged. I surely must have been mistaken, I thought to myself, because that much transfer couldn't come just from a hello, nice to meet you hug, if Traci even hugged Larry. Anyway, I went upstairs and changed into gym shorts and a T-shirt and then came downstairs and grabbed a beer from the fridge, plopping down in my La-Z-Boy across the room.

Larry and I continued to drink and kibitz while Traci fixed us a sumptuous meal. Not only is she a looker, my Traci, but truly a fabulous cook as well. Larry and I gorged ourselves at the table, then returned to the den to watch a movie. Traci rejoined us when she finished in the kitchen, again sitting at the other end of the sofa from Larry. We watched and talked through a movie on Netflix, and briefly discussed giving Larry a tour of our fair city tomorrow morning. At about 11, I got up and said I was tired, but told Traci she could stay and keep Larry company if she wanted, since she normally was more of a late-night person than me. I fully expected her to join me, however, seeing that she appeared to be no more than comfortable at best with Larry, so I was more than a little surprised when she said she'd sit up with Larry for a bit. At that point, my "Spider senses" started to tingle, but never in our 20 years of marriage had Traci ever given me even the slightest reason not to trust her completely.

I hit the bathroom and turned in, but instead of falling asleep almost immediately as I usually did when I went to bed by myself, something didn't feel quite right in my brain and I couldn't fall asleep. So 20 minutes later, just to reassure myself that I was being a paranoid idiot, I got up, put on my robe and headed for the den. Walking barefoot on the carpeted floor, I didn't intentionally try to sneak up on them, but I was moving silently, and I assumed they must have been watching TV, because I didn't hear any conversation going on. Just as I was about to enter the room, I noticed Traci wasn't sitting on the far end of the sofa anymore, from where she would have seen me. Instead, she was seated facing Larry on his end of the sofa, with her left hand on the very large bulge in his sweatpants. They were staring intently into one another's eyes, and she appeared to be stroking him through his sweats. I had forgotten that Larry's dick was about nine inches and thick, having seen it repeatedly since we were roommates for two years in college and often changed in our room in the dorm together. It wasn't something that mattered to me, and I had no reason to ever bring up the subject with Traci. Apparently, however, it now mattered very much to Traci.

For full disclosure here, I have an average-sized 6-inch dick, and at least until this very moment, Traci always seemed happy with it. She would usually get off once or twice on my cock while we had sex, which we still did two or three times a week.

At this point, Larry leaned over and kissed my wife passionately on the lips, and she didn't resist in the least. She also continued to stroke his big salami. I stood there watching, completely gobsmacked.

When they disengaged lips, Traci held up one finger to Larry, and got up. At this point, I made my way back to the bedroom and slid back into bed, pretending to be asleep. Traci opened the door, and at that point I thought that this horrible sequence of events was over, and she was coming to bed, but instead she padded into the room quietly and took a look at me to make sure I was asleep, then padded back out of the room. As I got up and listened through our bedroom door, I heard some quiet talking, then I heard the two of them walk in to the guest room, where Larry was staying. At that moment, my heart broke. I knew she was no longer mine; she was his. Twenty years - gone. Just like that.

I resisted the overwhelming urge to throw up right then and there. I also resisted the urge to run in to the guest room and shoot both of them, or kick the shit out of both of them. Yes, it would have felt good, but at that point it didn't fucking matter. The act itself, which I could have stopped, was not the point. What mattered was the fact that she agreed to the act, agreed to cheat on me, agreed to throw my love away, at least long enough to commit adultery, agreed to betray my trust. Sure, I could have stopped the act, at least for now, but I wasn't going to be able to watch her 24-7-365, and if she could break my trust with one, what difference would another be? Sure, she would cry and beg forgiveness and maybe even mean it right now, but a trust broken once is easier to break a second time ... and more.

As for Larry, I couldn't believe that he would do this to me, a guy who was practically a brother. Maybe that's why his first wife, Tiffany, divorced him 15 years ago, and why wife No. 2, Marguerite, also hit the trail. How could I not have seen that coming?

So instead of charging into the guest room, I picked up my phone and turned on my home security app, and watched the inevitable while the system recorded it for posterity. It didn't take long for Larry to have my wife naked, with her big tits in his hands. She took his sweats and underwear off and started jerking on that big stick, leaving his golf shirt on. A minute later she was on her knees, trying to fit as much of that python down her throat as she could. After what seemed like hours but was probably only a few minutes later, he lifted her off her knees, laid her down on the bed and started rubbing her clit with his hand, eliciting what looked like a moan on camera. She was already dripping wet, it appeared, and he then went for it, pushing his big dick in an inch at a time so she could get accustomed to his large size. She came violently on his monster at least twice that I could see, and I could hear her muffled cries of pleasure through two doors. Yes, I watched the whole show, about 15 minutes worth, until he pumped what must have been a gallon of semen inside Traci's pussy. Tears fell from my eyes the whole time as I just couldn't comprehend what I did to make this happen, other than offer a long-time friend my hospitality.

They lay in bed together for about 10 minutes, and I could see they were talking. Traci then got up and headed into the bathroom. I shut the security app, crawled back into bed and pretended to be asleep. She quietly crawled into bed on her side about five minutes later. I kept my back to her so she couldn't see my tear-streaked face, but I didn't fall asleep the entire night. Judging by her breathing, she went out like a light five minutes after she came to bed. I guess a good fucking will do that to you.

Traci got up at about 7, took some clothes out of her closet and quietly went into the bathroom. She didn't realize I was awake. I waited until I heard her leave the bathroom and head for the kitchen before I got up, put a robe on and headed in also. There I encountered she and Larry, both fully dressed and getting ready to head out somewhere. They both must have felt emboldened by last night's tryst.

"Are we going somewhere?" I asked innocently, even though I wasn't dressed to go anywhere.

"Uhhhmmm ... Larry and I are just headed over to Starbucks for a latte. We'll be back in a bit, OK?" Traci quickly answered before hustling Larry out the front door.

Actually, I was very good with them taking off, because I had work to do and figured I only had 90 minutes, two hours tops, assuming that they were going to stop somewhere and have sex. I quickly got dressed, jumped in my car and headed to our bank, where I immediately closed our joint checking and savings accounts and opened a new checking account in my name only. The savings account money I took in a cashier's check. I also closed the credit card we had at the bank and opened a new one in my name only. It helps to have some friends who have gotten divorced, because I knew exactly what to do. I also called my other credit card company and had our limit dropped to $1,000 over our current balance, just in case Traci needed to get something when she was out and about with Larry - something like an actual cup of coffee. She would be annoyed but not too suspicious if there was a problem with one card, as long as the other still worked.

I got back to the house in about an hour, and, as I figured, they still weren't back. They finally showed up about two hours after they left, both looking a little red in the face and somewhat breathless, like they had been taking a long, brisk walk on a spring morning. Yeah, right. I continued with my stupid act.

"What, you didn't bring anything back for me" I asked.

"Aahh ... what was I thinking?" Traci replied, trying to look apologetic.

Traci and I took Larry to our city zoo and our city art museum, then out to dinner at one of our better restaurants. Throughout the entire day they kept shooting each other looks when they thought I wasn't looking. I wasn't sure if I wanted to strangle both of them or laugh at them for thinking they were putting one over on me.

I again got up at 11 to go to bed, and as I figured, Traci again didn't make a move to come with me. I turned the app on and hit record while I lay in bed trying to keep my breathing regular. About 30 minutes later, Traci quietly entered the room and came around to my side to make sure I was asleep, then quietly left again when she was satisfied with my act. After she left, I got up and threw some shorts on, and waited quietly in the dark until I heard them start up their act. Then I quietly crept into the kitchen and found her purse.

Apparently, she and Larry didn't use all of their time out fucking this morning, because she must have hit a debit card machine and stopped someplace to get online and buy an airline ticket. I removed the five crisp $100 bills from the bank envelope, carefully replacing them with pieces of newspaper so it would feel full, and replaced both the envelope and the e-ticket back in her purse. The lousy bitch, I ranted to myself as I crawled back into bed: not only was she cheating on me, but apparently she was going to run away with him after just two days. After 20 years, I must really suck at this husband thing.

Traci and Larry took their darned sweet time on this go-round. It sounded like they actually did the deed twice, with a small break in between. I didn't watch this time around; didn't need to, although I did record it. She quietly crawled into bed about 2, went back-to-back with me and fell asleep again within five minutes. Again, I lay awake the entire night.

About 8 I heard Larry in the bathroom. When he was done, I heard him stop briefly in the kitchen, then I heard him leave the house; I'm guessing he was going to wait in his rental car. Traci got up just a little after he left, quietly gathered some clothes in her arms, reached into the closet for a suitcase and went into the bathroom. That was my cue to get my shorts on and wait by the front door.

Traci was lightly made up and dressed casually in jeans and a top as she left the bathroom, and judging by the way she was carrying the suitcase it was already packed. She didn't see me sitting in a living room chair about 10 feet off to the side of the door, and was about to reach for the handle when I quietly but firmly spoke up.

"You mean after 20 years I don't even merit a simple good bye; not even a 'fuck you, bastard'; nothing."

At least I had startled her, and she literally jumped back from the door.

"Bob... I ... I ... You know?"

"Obviously."

It took every ounce of willpower to keep my calm exterior. I had the upper hand in this little scene, and I was going to wring every bit out of it.

"Really, Traci? Twenty years and this is how you end us?"

"I love you, Bob, I really do, but you wouldn't understand, so I was just trying to make it easier on you," she stammered.

"Well how goddamned considerate of you, Babe," I said evenly.

She started to say something, stuttered, stopped, tried something else, stuttered some more, and just wound up sounding like Porky Pig.

"Enough. Time for you to go. Lover Boy will be very nervous right about now," I said.

Traci looked shocked. She hadn't considered this scenario, apparently.

"You're not even going to ask me to stay?" she muttered.

"Nope. It's pretty obvious to me you don't love me, so why would I want you to stay? If I'm lucky you'll get run over by a bus in LA."

She did the Porky Pig thing again. I pointed to the door. She left.

I heard Larry's rental car leave the driveway. I was feeling pretty good about the confusion I had sewn in Traci's mind, and the deficit I put in her wallet. Didn't feel guilty one bit. Fuck her.

Twenty minutes later I headed to the hardware story to buy three new door locksets and a new remote for the garage door. After installing everything and making sure it worked, I sat down in my La-Z-Boy to make the toughest phone call of my life: I had to tell our 18-year-old daughter that her mother cheated on me and left.

Layla is a beautiful child - the absolute spitting image of her mother, in fact. She came along two years after Traci and I were married. We tried to have more after her, but for whatever reason it was not to be, so at our 10-year anniversary mark, Traci had her tubes tied. That at least meant no more condoms for me or birth control pills for her, and we were both a lot happier about that - or so I thought until Friday, that is.

When I called Layla it was barely 9 on a Sunday morning, so she knew something was up. She asked, I answered affirmatively.

"Pumpkin, your mom walked out on me a little bit ago. She spent two days screwing my old college roommate, then she left with him about an hour ago. I just thought that you should know from me first ..."

"What!!???!!" she shrieked. "You let Mom fuck your college roommate; then you let her leave with the guy!!??"

"No, that's not what I said. I didn't let her have sex with Larry. She did it on her own, after I went to bed, but I caught them ..."

"So you beat the shit out of both of them!?" she yelled back at me.

At this point I spoke very slowly and deliberately. Layla was not exactly lucid at this point.

"No, Baby, when I found out about it, I just them continue. The fact that your mother wanted to at all meant that I already lost her. Neither one of them knew I knew at that point. The leaving, however, was something they came up with on their own. But I found out about that, and your mother and I had an interesting conversation before she left.

"Pumpkin, I don't want to put you in the middle of this. I want you to continue to love your mother. You don't have to like what she's done, just so you and I are good."

"Well, I think she's a whore, Dad. And you don't have to put up with shit like that. Didn't you just want to punch your friend's lights out?"

"Everybody will get theirs, Baby, in due time."

After I hung up from Layla, I called over to Traci's parents. Up until this minute I have always gotten along great with them, but I figured that was about to end. But at least I wanted them to have my version, because who knows what Traci was going to tell them.

As I figured, Traci's folks didn't take the news well. After all, she is their daughter. But when they started flipping me shit, I went for the mother of all kill shots: I emailed them a screen grab from the first night tryst, a photo of their precious daughter with about half of Larry's big dick in her mouth. Since I didn't get a response back, I had to figure the conversation and our relationship was over.

Monday I got a hold of an attorney recommended by a divorced friend. His attorney got the shit kicked out of him by his ex-wife's attorney, so that's who he recommended to me when I called Sunday for his opinion. Thanks to the generosity of my boss, I was able to meet Janna Wilhelm on Thursday of that week, and my impression of her was that I wouldn't want to cross her.

I live in an at-fault divorce state, so I was able to ask for the moon when I filed for divorce on the grounds of infidelity. And my shark was more than up to the challenge. I wound up with the house and 75 percent of the marital assets. Traci tried to argue that she wasn't making the money she made when we were married, but Ms. Wilhelm correctly pointed out to the court that Traci gave up her job to move to California, and didn't deserve to have me bail her out for a bad financial decision.

Despite the fact that Traci fought the divorce, it still only took me six months to get free. Then came the real hard part: overcoming the nagging doubts that I didn't cut it as a husband. I mean, I thought Traci and I had a great marriage, and it took only two days for that to fall apart. TWO FUCKING DAYS!

While the divorce was in progress, I didn't have much of a social life. I mostly stayed home, and when I ventured out, I certainly wasn't in the mood for female companionship. But even after the divorce was final, I just didn't have the heart to be looking for companionship. Without a doubt, I was a broken man, and even I could figure that one out, so I looked up a good therapist. Turns out she was manning the bar at a place called Chuck's, a small hole-in-the-wall place that featured hard rock, high-end liquor and a clientele that seemed to be moving up in the world and was more than willing to have new fish to fry with their wise-ass comments.