74 comments/ 134658 views/ 26 favorites She Said I Was the One By: anothermarrieddude Note: I have been a fan of the site for a few years. For the most part, I'm content to read. Though they are not typically "spank" material, I have found that I have most enjoyed the "unhappy" Loving Wives stories. I'm not sure why they appeal to me, but whatever. I certainly don't pretend to be a writer and I'm sure there are numerous mistakes in this one. I wasn't patient enough to find and editor, so I hope the result doesn't make it completely unbearable. I wanted to have a story end the way I kept hoping they would and wanted to have the husband react in the manner I have described in this story. That is my sole reason for writing it. If you don't enjoy it, but like this "genre", I would encourage you to read the fine work of K.K., Ohio, DG Hear, Dr_Know, Just Plain Bob, Harddaysknight, Blue88, and thecelt. No doubt there are others that write similar kinds of stories and I'm sure I'm leaving some out that I have enjoyed. ----------------------------------------------- My name is Mark Fisher. Denise and I have been married 12 years. They have been good years, for the most part. Obviously, as in any marriage, every minute of every day wasn't ideal, but then who could make that claim? Denise and I both have our quirks and have learned to either be amused by one another quirk, or at least ignore them. If you could put a picture in the dictionary beside the word average, it would be me. I'm a little on the short side at 5'6 ½" (hey...I need that ½) and weigh in at about 170 pounds. I'm not looking for opportunities to show myself off in a swim suit, but neither have I relegated myself to wearing only black clothing and vertical stripes. I have dark hair and blue eyes and have learned that facial hair isn't my look. Nor do I have any tattoos, piercings, etc. Basically, I'm Beaver Cleaver all grown up and in the 21st century. I guess you could say I'm a little on the quiet side. I've always wanted to be that "life of the party" type, but I'm just not that guy. I have to work really hard at parties to find things to say and don't know what to do with my hands. Denise, on the other hand, is a knockout. She stands at a statuesque 5'10" and weighs in the 140s, though I'm never sure quite exactly where in the 140s. Her breasts are essentially the perfect size and shape for her figure at 36C. She has dark blond hair and green eyes. Picture Bridget Sampras (formerly Wilson) from the Adam Sandler movie, Happy Gilmore. Her best feature by a mile, though, is her legs. Now, I'm a "leg man", but I have to think any guy that sees Denise in a skirt and heels will have a very tough time getting that picture out of his head. They are long, but more importantly, perfectly shaped and proportioned. Now here's the really great part. She can walk in heels. Most will know what I'm talking about when I say that. There are ladies who manage to stay upright when wearing heels. Then there are ladies who can walk in heels in a manner that allows them to avoid calling negative attention to themselves. Finally, there are ladies that can walk in heels. Not only can they walk gracefully, but these ladies quite simply seem to have an aura about them that makes them seem out of reach of mortal man. The manner in which we met was nothing short of every guy's dream meeting....unless they happen to be The Bachelor. I was on my way home from Atlanta to Chicago where I had been on business for a couple of days. I work for Computech and have a very exciting job. I sit I a cubicle and process TPC reports. My job seldom requires travel, so I kind of enjoyed it when I did unlike many business travelers. On rare occasion, a report wouldn't coincide with the monthly projections the branch sent to the bosses and I'd have to go to the branch to help with the reconciliation. Guys, do you know how when you get on a plane, you start to look for the most attractive flight attendant....or nearby passenger in a pinch....just so you can mentally check the block of having identified her? Well, I did, and that was Denise. She came toward me and I immediately had decided she was now among the 25 or so ladies on my top-ten-hottest-women-in-real-life list (not to be confused with the top-ten-hottest-celebrity-women list). Well, the flight got under way and after a few minutes, I pulled a book out and started reading, and eventually got engrossed in my book. After 45 minutes or so, I was startled by a voice originating from well within the confines of my personal space, but couldn't turn toward it because I'd have bumped into my new friend. Now, in most cases, when someone you don't know is that close to you, it's uncomfortable at best. In this case, however, it was a female voice. "I know this is probably very inappropriate, but I just have to tell you that you're the most gorgeous man I've ever seen in my life." To say I was stunned would, of course, but a huge understatement. It was even more stunning, however, because it was none other than Denise, who had said it. Unfortunately, she immediately continued heading up the aisle after making such a mind blowing declaration. Frankly, I was both excited AND incredulous. She was gone. Had I even heard her correctly? How was it possible such a traffic-stopping beauty would even notice a guy like me? I asked the lady travelling next to me if she had heard that and she responded in the negative. What do I do now? Anything? I decided to be Mr. Smooth. Being that I have exactly zero game, I wasn't about to screw this up...assuming "this" was even an opportunity TO screw up. So...I did what any real man would do. I pulled a business card out and held it so that there was no doubt Denise could see it when she walked by and know it was an invitation to take it, but if she didn't take it, I would still be spared my dignity. I know. You're impressed, aren't you? I'll be giving a clinic after the story. Well, Denise DID, in fact snatch the business card on her way by (you already knew that's what was going to happen, didn't you?), and unbelievably, called me a few days later. It turns out, for those that don't know it, that flight attendants are not really constrained by geography in their dating lives. Denise lived in Denver, with a few other flight attendants in a "crash pad", and I lived in Chicago, but it was easy enough for her to come on days off to spend time with me...which she did. For the life of me, I can't figure out and still can't what she apparently saw in me, but she swept me off my feet. On our second date, as I was returning her to her hotel room, she asked me to give her a few minutes, then come up for a while longer before going back to my place. Well, when I got to her room, she answered the door wearing an absolutely GORGEOUS white lacy teddy and white thigh highs with very tasteful heels. Needless to say, one thing led to another, and I was shortly engaged in what was, up to that point, the best sex of my life. I won't say we did everything there was to do, but we hit most of the standard stuff. The thing that truly rocked my world is the ease with which she orgasmed and how vocal she was when she did. I was very convinced that they have to have heard her several rooms away. We spent a wonderful evening together and I finally left very late to head back home. She left the next morning, but the next day, I had a dozen red roses delivered to me at work along with a quite steamy note. It happened, gentlemen. Believe it. You'd think that I would have moved mountains to make sure Denise stayed with me and that our relationship progressed wouldn't you? Not me, though. Oh, no. I was VERY cautious. -------------------------------------------------- You see, I had been married once before. I'm not proud to say I cheated on my ex wife, Amanda, which, eventually had a lot to do with our marriage ending. In spite of that, however, virtually everyone that knew us both was amazed that I even tried to stay in the marriage at all. They definitely didn't feel I was the bad guy for having cheated. Don't get me wrong...they didn't condone it, but DEFINITELY understood it. Amanda had NO interest in sex once we were married if she could realistically avoid it. Let me make at least a half-hearted attempt at excusing myself here. Being that I'm the author, I get to try to paint myself in a positive light. I was proactive and sharing my concern with her regarding our lack of sex life. I finally went so far as to tell her that I'd find what I needed elsewhere if I didn't start getting it from her. She steadfastly refused to spend the little money we had wisely, but yet didn't want to work outside the home herself. In short, Amanda was a shrew. I can't say that she was materialistic per se, but she DID want the white picket fence, mini van, etc, etc right away and without contributing to the finances herself. Well, I cheated... eventually felt guilty and told her... enjoyed purgatory for a few years thereafter before we admitted to each other that it just wasn't working and wasn't going to work. -------------------------------------------------- Well, with the bad taste of this marriage in my mind, I was enjoying Denise, being only human, but also trying to hold her at arm's length emotionally-speaking. She was having none of that, however. She wanted marriage. I STILL don't know what it was about me. I mean...we're talking about a lady who had plenty of opportunity to date professional athletes and very successful business men. I was earning a living, but that's about it. I practically pushed her away telling her that I know women prefer taller men, and even if she thought it was ok now, that eventually she'd be embarrassed about my height. Let's face it. Most women, most of the time will list tall as one of the things that they particularly like in a guy....usually even first. I really didn't think much about it except that she, herself, was tall. She said all the right things to make me think she was one of the minority that truly didn't care. I'm not the most charismatic guy around and pointed that out to her as well. I just didn't want her to think she "could have done better" at some point down the road. Don't get me wrong. It's not that I have low self-esteem or anything. I'd rate myself as a 6 on a scale of 1 – 10. But I felt Denise could easily have had her choice of 8s and above. Again, she convinced me that I was the one...and the only one for her. Eventually, I started to think that I was going to have to marry Denise or lose her, so I chose the former. It's not like I was kicking or screaming, either. It was a great marriage for quite time. Utopia in the good times. Frustrating, at worst, in the bad times. I had finally come to accept that she loved me for some reason. It was still amusing to see people stop their conversations and stare at us when we came into a restaurant. She was 6'1" in heels, which she often wore and with which I was fine. Me, of course, a towering 5'6 ½' and could almost be that guy that comes into a room and causes everyone turn and ask one another who left. The sex remained good. We engaged in the fruits of marriage at least a couple of times every week. We didn't have all that many marathon sessions anymore as almost always happens after the first couple of years, but I think that I was attentive to her and she was to me. There were very few times either of us felt unsatisfied as far as I know and I had definitely asked her to feel free to communicate her needs with me. Now...finally to what brings us here. Looking back, I'm not sure I'd have noticed even if I were looking for a problem. The only real difference in our schedules and in the way that Denise interacted with me was that calls to her would go to voice mail every now and then. Of course, now I can say that was something different, but I thought nothing of it at the time. I seldom called when I knew she was in the air because, what's the point? When I DID call her, she would answer 90% of the time. Now it was more like70% of the time. Her birthday was coming up, and I thought it would be a great opportunity to surprise her by being at her layover hotel when she arrived in New York. She was going to have 36 hours between working to Newark from Dallas and the working back to Chicago. It was the Christmas season, so being the romantic and smooth guy that I am, I thought an evening and brunch in New York with the whole Rockefeller Center thing would score me big points. I was excited as I made the plans. Unfortunately, I had to leave a day earlier that I would have liked in order to get on a flight. (Those who have "non-rev'd" will have had the opportunity to enjoy scheduling travel like that, but hey....like anyone is going to listen to us complain.) Well, I arrived in Newark on Tuesday preparing to twiddle my thumbs for about 20 hours or so. I figured I'd stay at a Comfort Inn that first night to save a little money, but I couldn't find anything with any vacancies that didn't look pretty scary, so I just went downtown and got a room at the Radisson, which is the hotel the airline used for crews that were staying more than 18 hours before their next flight. I felt a little guilty about spending the extra money on that, but there wasn't much I could do. I tried to reach Denise in Dallas on her cell, but it turned out to be one of those times that she didn't answer. I walked around until I found a Starbucks and got a venti (I'm only vaguely aware that they have other sizes), skim, Cinnamon Dolce. I tell you this because I have no doubt that you're keenly interested, at this point, what my coffee beverage of choice was on that particular evening. I decided to head back to my room and get some sleep, excited about surprising my wife the next day. I tried to call her again and got her voice mail again. It was a very interesting timing coincidence, however, that I heard a phone ring with a familiar ring tone in the small crowd just ahead of me....at exactly the same time I was trying to call Denise. Coincidence, you say? Well, as it turns out....not. My heart started pounding as I tried to get an angle to where I could see for sure if my wife was just ahead of me on the busy streets of beautiful New York when she was supposed to be in Dallas. My heart went from pounding to turning very cold and very heavy when I did manage to get an angle sufficient to confirm that my Denise was about 20 feet in front of me and much too close to a striking man to be anything other than a romantic relationship. In fact, they kissed one another a couple of times in the short span of time I had noticed them. Somehow, my latte just didn't seem quite strong enough anymore. I made sure to stay within sight of them while also making sure they didn't see me until I decided how to proceed. Now, at this point, there are many differing philosophies on what to do next. Let me weed at least a couple of them out by saying that Denise and I had never discussed the possibility of an "open marriage" or any other version of bringing others into the relationship, nor did I have any interest in that. As far as I was aware, neither did she. As I continued to think about it, I continued to follow them at a discrete distance and they eventually made their way back to the hotel into which they were supposedly checking in tomorrow. I didn't follow them onto the elevator, so I don't know they were sharing a room, although, would it really make much difference to me if they weren't? I guess it might have in one way, but it would not have made the betrayal any less real. I sat in the lobby for a few with my head spinning and, eventually, made a decision. I had no idea how long this had been going on...assuming it was what it appeared to be. I decided that, if there was a chance of saving our marriage, then it would be important for me to know whether this happened to be a one time occurrence, or whether it would continue. Additionally, it was important to me to see if she would tell me about it. I decided to go back home and not tell her...for the moment...that I'd been there. As I thought about the situation on the way home, I tried to imagine what I would think about it from a hypothetical perspective. It seemed that thinking of this situation in those terms would help me figure out the ultimate best approach. I decided I would never want to know about this happening (if I had my choice) under a couple of circumstances: 1. It was a one time or a short-lived affair; 2. She later truly felt sorry about it and ended it; and 3. She genuinely loved me and desired me, sexually, above any others. If that were the case, my first choice would be to remain blissfully ignorant if I could. Since I DID already know about it, I wanted to see if those conditions might play out that way. Denise got back home from work on Friday and seemed reasonably happy to see me. I thought I might have noticed a hint of guilt coloring her interactions with me a time or two, but it could easily have been my imagination. In the next couple of weeks, I tried some do-it-yourself detective work. Though I didn't find a mountain of information, I did find a couple of emails that made it pretty clear that this wasn't their first time spending quality time together. I didn't get the sense that she was in love with him, for whatever that's worth. Ok...not much. I tried my best to play the loving husband and think I must have succeeded because she didn't ask what was wrong or anything like that. I have to say, it was VERY hard to make myself "perform" the couple of times I needed to do so, but pulled it off somehow. She went to New York again about 3 weeks after the one in which I had planned to surprise her. Needless to say, I was nervous. I didn't know who this guy was, but it was a reasonable guess that he lived in New York. I decided I wanted to see for myself how my lovely wife interacted with her friend, so this time, I made arrangements with the layover hotel near LaGuardia to get a key to her room to "surprise her". Obviously, they don't normally just hand out room keys, but she was my wife and I was able to document that, so no problem. I got to the hotel and decided to wait in the lobby behind the ever popular newspaper for her to arrive. In spite of overwhelming evidence, I was still hoping. I know...pathetic. Denise got there around 4:00 in the afternoon, and sure enough...about an hour later, my new best friend arrived and picked her up. They kissed deeply and he groped her ass and I had a very tough time keeping my lunch down. When they left...presumably for an early dinner, I went up to her room and let myself in. Thankfully, the closet was one that not only would allow me to hide inside with a pretty reasonable certainty of not being seen since I could stand against one wall and be mostly hidden by the shadows and the clothing she had hanging up, but I could also see the bed at least a little bit. Time is cruel in these situations and it went both incredibly slowly, but passed all too quickly if that's possible. I heard the lock whir at about 9:15 and they came into the room. It was really more like they fell into the room because their hands were all over one another. They were both completely naked in a manner of minutes and she was kneeling in front of him and sucking his cock in a manner that would have made a porn star proud. I immediately noticed that, while my cock is at best average in size, his was at least a little above average. My guess would be that my 5" was probably comparing pretty poorly to about 7" or 8". The hits just keep on rolling. He moaned and talked to her at a steady pace. That was devastating to hear. To that point, I hadn't noticed her being any more enthusiastic with him than she was with me or being any louder or doing anything that she didn't also do with me. He ate her pussy slowly at first, and then picked up speed and she gradually moved from soft moans and groans to thrashing and loud, dirty talk. She Said I Was the One Ch. 02 Part 2: Denise's Story Copyright 2009, All Rights Reserved Author's note: I was overwhelmed by all the kind words shared in feedback. Though, I hadn't planned to do it, I offer this story as a result of "popular demand". I do enjoy a good sex story as much as this next guy, but this isn't it. Those looking for sex...or revenge, for that matter...won't likely enjoy this story. ____________________ Hello. My name is Denise as I'm sure you already know. Mark is....was?....my husband. He was my world from the day we met. Let me tell you a little about me and about how this mess came to be. I guess I should first describe myself to you. I am 5'10" and weigh 148. I have dark blonde hair and green eyes. My breasts are 36B, which I guess is not noteworthy one way or the other, though I'm certainly satisfied with them. My legs seem to get the most attention, particularly from those that are fans of legs. One of the things that I have taken the time to learn to do is to walk well in heels. I know a lot of ladies think they can walk in heels, but very few look truly comfortable and confident doing so. It truly presents a markedly different picture of oneself, in my opinion, but I digress. I have always been confident, but not arrogant, and have been fortunate enough to not get tangled up in some of the more shallow and petty issues that are so prevalent, particularly with younger people. I'm smart and reasonably articulate, but also down-to-earth, and approachable. I think most men that have a reasonable level of confidence would feel comfortable approaching me and having a conversation and would enjoy it. Obviously, being tall and attractive, there are many that would assume I'm "out of their league" and choose not to approach me. On one hand, that doesn't bother me, since I don't seem to have any problem making friends and finding interested and willing men to date. On the other, I wish it were not so because I don't like to think of myself as shallow and it would disappoint me to know that someone else might without giving themselves a chance to know otherwise. I never really knew my biological dad...or "sperm donor" as my brother, Jeff, and I like to refer to him. We grew up on the outer edges of Tucson. My mom went through a series of husbands, none of which were remotely close to filling the role of a father to Jeff and me. You may get the wrong impression about my mom. She had a very hard time holding a relationship together, but she was and is my absolute best friend. She is one of the smartest and most articulate ladies I've known. I love having a discussion over a cup of coffee with her. Unfortunately, she has never had a lot of ambition in terms of her career or the standards she sets for herself in men. I had a normal social life in school. I wasn't one of the "popular crowd" in high school, but probably could have been if that kind of thing interested me. I think I was lucky to have been "mature" enough at that time that I allowed myself to be young and felt that boys and relationships could wait until later. I wasn't Uninterested in them. They just weren't my priority. I had what seemed to be a normal amount of interest from boys, though my friends told me that I had more than my share. Like many teenage girls, I lost my virginity to a boy who was a year ahead of me in school and had neither the knowledge nor interest in making the experience pleasurable for me. I finally started to understand that boys were particularly interested in me my last year or so of high school. Being pretty tall, I guess I stood out, and maybe the boys started to have a chance to catch up to my height by that time. Though, I didn't and still don't consider myself "high maintenance", I did take the time to dress nicely as well as wear a flattering hair style and use cosmetics in a tasteful manner. All in all, I guess you'd say that I didn't have the easiest childhood, but there were many that had it worse. I'd rank myself highly in terms of how I looked, intelligence, and self-confidence if I can say so without seeming arrogant. I attended college at the University of Arizona (who could have seen that one coming), majoring in Spanish and doing reasonably well with grades, though not well enough to graduate with honors. I graduated in the requisite 4 years without any real idea what I wanted to be when I grew up. Though I dated and had a couple of long term relationships, no guy came along that was a priority for me. Thankfully, I found that sex was, in fact, a pleasurable experience since a couple of my boyfriends were considerate lovers. You may have noticed I use the term pleasurable rather than comparing it to fireworks or anything of the like. I definitely enjoyed it and wanted it to be part of my dating relationships...and even wanted it in general, but still hadn't met anyone with whom I really felt the "fireworks" type of chemistry. It was frustrating not to know what I wanted to do for a career. So many others seemed to have everything all neatly planned out, but I just couldn't settle on what would interest me on a daily basis. I took pride in my appearance and was definitely good with people. I felt like I was reasonably smart, but didn't feel like I had any particular talent or interest. A couple of my girlfriends, Laura and Maggie, and I decided to take a trip to a city which we had never visited before after graduation to celebrate. Maggie wanted to go to San Francisco, Laura wanted to go to Chicago, and I couldn't decide. Both cities had great museums, great food, and of course, great night life. In the end, we decided on San Francisco, since we figured there was more of a chance any or all of us could visit Chicago sometime in the future. We had a great time planning our trip and researching flights and all the things that go with taking a vacation with friends. Time seemed to pass so slowly those last few weeks of school, but eventually we graduated and the time for our trip arrived! I hadn't been on a plane in so long that I remembered very little about the experience. I find that interesting now because I had the time of my life...and all before we landed in San Francisco. Maybe I'm like a little kid, but that simple flight was great fun for me and the crew on the aircraft was so nice and so professional that I was inspired. So much so that now I knew what I wanted to do for a career! We had a wonderful time in San Francisco, but I wasn't able to enjoy it as fully as I would have liked because I was anxious to find out how I could apply for a flight attendant position as soon as I got back. I know it probably seems silly for those with high powered careers, particularly if you have to travel for your job and look at it as a chore, but different strokes as they say. I unpacked when we got back and threw my dirty laundry in the general direction of the washing machine, then immediately got online and started to find the web site of each airline that I could think of and started to apply. As it happens, having a college degree, while not making me an "automatic" certainly made me very competitive. Being fluent in Spanish also gave me an edge. Between those two, my application got the attention of the flight attendant recruiters at three of the airlines which I applied and I had a phone interview with each of them! The first occurred within a couple of days of applying and the next two were scheduled the following week. I'm sure glad it turned out that way because I was completely unprepared for the first interview. I had confidence in myself and was just convinced that I would do a great job if they just gave me the chance and told the interviewer as much. It's an interesting thing, though. Can you believe that every other person they interviewed felt the very same way and told him something very similar? I guess my looks wouldn't help me any in a phone interview. Yes....I was now very much aware that I could use my looks to my advantage if I chose to do so. I never made a point to do it, but if that helped me and all other things were reasonably equal, who was I to complain? Armed with my newly and painfully acquired interview experience as well as the memory of questions I thought the other recruiters were likely to ask, I started doing "homework". I now knew that most of my interview questions were likely to start with, "Tell me about a time when...., or "Give me an example of....," so I was in fairly good shape to prepare and didn't take anything for granted. After a number of hours practice, I felt like I was in better shape for the next two phone interviews. Apparently, I was right because I did very well on both! I was invited in for in-person interviews with both airlines. As you have likely concluded, I did get at least one offer. Actually, I got two and chose the one that seemed to allow me to interact with Spanish speaking passengers a little more often, thus giving me the feeling that my years in college were worthwhile and my degree was being used. Everything is seniority-based with airlines, so those of us from the most recent training class got our choice of those bases that others had left for more desirable locations. We were all excited just to be going to work and even the "undesirable" locations were major cities and great as far as we were concerned. Since I finished near the top of my training class, I got my choice of Denver and Cincinnati and chose Denver. If you're not familiar with how things work with flight attendants and living arrangements, usually several get together to rent an apartment or house which is referred to as a "crash pad". There are usually postings for openings in crash pads to be found in the crew lounges in the cities where appropriate. A two bedroom apartment might be shared by 4 flight attendants because there are seldom more than 2 there at a time. Obviously that means you only get ½ the dresser drawers, closest space, etc and have to pull your bedding off if you're going to be gone over night. It also means that there are occasions when you have to sleep on the couch. Overall, though, it works very well and it saves a lot of money. I was lucky enough to see a posting for a nice house. While there were more roommates, there were still some nice things like a private back yard, more bathrooms, etc that made it a little nicer than an apartment would have been. Work was as fun as I had hoped it would be! Sure...I WAS working, but for some reason, it was still fun flying. Obviously, I didn't get to see any of the cities to which we flew most of the time, but there were occasions when we had longer layovers and the airline would put us up in areas that allowed us to take advantage of the locale in those situations. I met a lot of really nice people. Of course, there were certainly plenty of passengers that were difficult for one reason or the other. As you can probably guess, men tried their luck with me quite often. Most of the time, I just rolled my eyes when I was sure they wouldn't see me. I had to treat it as a joke while in front of them unless they became truly obscene, which was seldom. It never ceases to amaze me why men think women will respond to some of their absurd pick-up lines. Do they really think we're not smarter than that? There were some men that I dated, and even had one relationship that lasted several months. His name was Simon and had recently moved from Australia to Denver to start a new division for his company there. On paper, he SHOULD have been the one. We had great sex. In fact, to this day, he may be the one man, who has excited me more than any other from a purely physical perspective. He was smart, good looking, treated me well...pretty much the whole package. I don't know what it was that was missing, but he must have felt it, too. After a few months, we started to drift slowly apart and neither of us seemed to mind or make any effort to stop it. A "girls night out" would become a higher priority for me. A work project that could have been put on the back burner for one evening would tie him up. Finally, I saw him with another woman on one of our girls' nights out as we sat at our favorite restaurant/bar having the requisite margaritas and discussing the latest gossip about who was sleeping with what pilot now. Two things immediately struck me. Even though we hadn't officially committed to exclusivity with one another, I hadn't been dating other men and was put off that he would date other women. And...in seeming direct conflict with that mentality, it struck me that I really didn't even care. I know that probably doesn't make sense. It was like I should have been outraged, so I was intellectually, but not emotionally. I made it a point to go up and say hello and he had the good grace to act mildly embarrassed. I think we both walked away from that exchange with the understanding that we were over. I didn't hear from him again and didn't expect to. Neither did I call him thereafter. As I have alluded, I was never "looking" for someone since I just assumed it would happen when it happened and I was enjoying my life as an attractive, single lady. When I first saw Mark, I simply melted. I know that sounds trite, but I truly did. I don't know what it was about him to be honest. You know how there is "just something about" someone? You can't put your finger on it, but they just hit you like a ton of bricks. Well, that's what happened to me when I met Mark. I guess many women would "rank" him as a 6. He was a little more attractive than the average guy, but not to a degree that every woman in the place would turn their head. I say this in an attempt to be objective because my heart immediately started to pound. I'm sure you read how we actually met in Mark's story and that's pretty much how it happened. I remember being very nervous for the first time ever when I called him. I almost chickened out, but after telling my mom about him and what happened on the phone that evening, she encouraged me to do it. Her reasoning was if I had the nerve to make that comment to him on the plane, then calling shouldn't be any scarier. She was right as it turns out. We both stumbled a bit here and there as we "felt one another out" on that first phone call, but as we continued to talk, Mark made comments here and there that were just hilarious. I know some people may not have understood his jokes because his sense of humor was pretty dry, but I "got" him and we had a great time talking! The one issue that was a little bit of a challenge as we developed our relationship was that Mark was concerned that I might eventually "figure out that I could do better". I was really surprised and impressed...if that's an appropriate characterization of it...that he could express that concern and yet, not seem to be in any way insecure. You already know that I'm tall for a lady and many consider me to be especially attractive while Mark was somewhat on the short side and though incredibly attractive to me, maybe closer to average for some. He was clearly very secure in himself, yet quickly acknowledged that he felt most women preferred men taller than he was. Though I guess that's true, it was never a big deal to me. Whether because of how I acted around him or simply because of spending enough time together, I guess Mark eventually felt more comfortable that my feelings for him were genuine. I was VERY in love with him. You're probably curious about how the sex was and I'll answer that this way. Though I'd had my share of partners by this time and a few were skilled and attentive lovers, no one....and I mean NO ONE had come close to making me feel the way Mark did. Oh...his cock wasn't any bigger than average at most. He didn't have any special technique. He, himself would point these kinds of things out to me on occasion. What he DID have...or maybe I should say....WE had together, was an unbelievable mental and emotional connection. Mark commented from time-to-time that 90% of sex occurred in the head and that, if partners had good chemistry and were mentally and emotionally in tune; the remaining 10% couldn't help but be fantastic. That makes sense, but I'm not sure I'd have bought it unless I had experienced making love with him. I know it sounds cliché, but that's exactly what it was...making love. As I'm thinking about it, I'm suddenly struck by that thing that was always there with Mark, but I couldn't put my finger on until now. It was the look in his eyes when he was making love with me, and especially when he came inside of me. The eye contact communicated with me at a level I just can't explain. Interesting how I enjoyed it all those years and just now can put my finger on that one specific special part of our experience together. Don't misunderstand...it was ALL special, but that one "ingredient" may what be brought it all together for me. Since I know you're wondering, we enjoyed a wide range of sexual activities together. We experimented quite a bit, but settled on mostly pretty "vanilla" kinds of activities as those we both enjoyed most. I can't think of anything I would NOT want to do with and for Mark. Certainly, there was nothing that was of any interest to him that I wouldn't do and he was very pro-active about making sure that we explored anything I might want to try as well. For example, I thought I'd enjoy role playing, so we experimented with that a little bit. It turned out to be ok, but definitely nothing I enjoyed any more than our other activities. Mark loved to see me in heels and thigh highs. He said he loved my sexy legs and couldn't get enough of me showing them off for him, which I was very glad to do. Mark finally felt comfortable enough that he was "the one" for me after almost 2 years of dating, that he asked me to marry him. Of course, I immediately said yes! Other men had never really been especially important to me and more or less ceased to exist all together once I met Mark. He lived in the Chicago suburbs and, of course, we moved there since, I could commute to Denver for work. Being a flight attendant certainly has its advantages. I was gone over night between 1 and 4 nights a week, and we missed one another terribly on those nights, especially after we got married. He didn't make enough money for me to quit work, however, and I couldn't think of anything I'd rather do. Flight attendants make very little money, of course, but it was enough to contribute sufficiently to the household expenses and we certainly enjoyed being able to travel together as a result of my job. All in all, we had a fantastic life. We had a nice little home. We both felt like we eventually wanted kids, but neither had a great deal of urgency about it. Of course, we had disagreements on occasion and were both guilty of taking the other for granted once in a while, but I never felt genuinely unsatisfied and neither did he as far as I know. One of the things that was very special for us was drinking a latte together at Starbucks. It seemed like that was "our" special time when we did that. If we had something we needed to discuss, we'd go to Starbucks and find that corner space with the two armchairs side by side and an end table between. You know the spot I'm talking about. Mark would prop his feet up on the stool and we'd work through whatever we needed to. It was like Starbucks gave us clarity. Yes...I continued to draw attention from other men, and frankly, occasionally other women, but would politely let them know that I'm sure they noticed that I was married. And further that the 60s stereotype of the stewardess didn't really apply anymore, and then to cover all my bases, that I was VERY happy with my man. I really can't tell you when things started changing...if you can call it that. I suppose every committed couple that stay together long enough eventually get "used" to one another, don't they? It's not fair and in NO way accurate to say I got bored with Mark or with my relationship. I don't think it's even fair to say that I started to take him for granted. I think the best way to say it is that I felt comfortable....too comfortable. The reality is that I only know it now because of my ad nauseam self-analysis that occurred too late. She Said I Was the One Ch. 02 Mark remained very attentive to me. I'm not saying he always treated me as if we were newly dating, but if he felt the same as I now guess that I was feeling he sure didn't show it. I still got the occasional flowers for no reason. He still made an effort to take me out to nice dinners and give me a chance to dress up and "primp". There would be occasions when he would tell me that he felt we needed some romantic time and would surprise me with a long weekend or a massage and a particularly long and attentive love making session. Interesting now, that I appreciated the effort, but never thought much about what was behind it. Was he having some of the same feelings as I was, but was making more of an effort to be pro-active about keeping the spark alive? We had been married about 11 years when I met Don. Some of the rest of the flight crew and I were having dinner on a layover in New York one evening. I seldom drank at all, but was having a glass of wine with my dinner when he came into the restaurant with a couple of other men that looked like they were having a business dinner. He immediately caught my eye, which was unusual. I wasn't staring at him. I don't think I was, at least. But, as I was looking at him, he made eye contact with me. It was at that time and the next few moments that I now know I lost my marriage. Don was about 6'3" and trim, but not skinny. He was dressed in a very expensive looking suit with shoes and accessories that looked as though they were made specifically for him and for the suit he was wearing. He was in his mid 40s, I later learned. Quite simply, he was everything that 90% of women picture when they picture a mature, very attractive man. Every block was checked. If meeting Mark hit me like a ton of bricks, my first impression of Don was being hit with one brick, but perfectly aimed. That either makes sense or it doesn't, but I'm not sure how else to describe it. My co-workers and I continued with our dinner and I made a cursory effort not to keep looking at Don. It seemed like every time I did look in his direction, he was looking at me, too. The way he looked at me was.....predatory...but somehow without being threatening or crude. I felt myself shiver, and yes, start to get wet. I noticed he was wearing a ring. Why did I even look? It shouldn't matter, should it? I had a pretty widespread reputation among my co-workers for not giving any man the time of day. Obviously, those who shared my morals regarded that favorably, while those who did not chose to see it as me being something of a prude. I was among a group of the latter this evening and they had noticed Don as well. They also noticed the looks that passed between us and commented. I brushed their comments aside, but was unable to brush the growing feeling of excitement and sexual tension I was feeling aside. Since we had an early flight the next morning we didn't have time to go elsewhere after dinner, so we chose to remain and have an extra drink at the restaurant. As a result, Don's group finished their dinner and got up to leave before we did, but Don met my eyes and went to sit at the bar and ordered a drink. His back was to me at that point, but the look that passed between us said all that needed to be said. He was waiting for me. My co-workers noticed my flush and noticed Don sitting at the bar, now by himself. They found excuses in the next 20 minutes or so to drift off, probably back to their rooms. I tried to make it look good, by walking toward the elevator with Sandy, who was the last to leave, but made some sort of excuse about making sure I left a tip at the table and told her to go up without me. If there was any excuse for sticking around to this point, there definitely was not for what I did next. I went directly up to Don and sat down beside him. "I have to admit to never being in this situation before," I said. "What does one say?" "There are rare occasions such as this, I think, when one doesn't have to say anything, although I guess knowing one another's names would be in order." "Well, I'm Denise, then." "And I'm Don. I hope you'll consider it my great pleasure." "And you, mine." Don put his hand on my lower back and I did nothing whatever to stop him or even discourage him. Clearly, I had checked my brain at the door. My heart was pounding so hard, I was sure that anyone within 10 feet of me could hear it. We continued to exchange personal information in a very sexually charge little bubble. I learned that Don was married, though not happily as I was, and yes...I know what you're thinking. That we would go to bed together was never really a question. Don simply laid claim to me as if it was pre-ordained and the thought of it being otherwise never even occurred to me. It was about an hour later that we went up to my room. I won't go into all the details other than to say Don was the most physically skilled lover I had ever experienced. He was all that Simon was and more. He didn't touch me mentally and emotionally like Mark did, but his cock was bigger and he clearly knew how to use his cock, hands, and tongue to please a woman. I lost count of how many times I orgasmed. My phone rang at one point, and I saw that it was Mark and didn't even have the heart or grace to be embarrassed that I had another man's cock in me at the time. Of course, I didn't answer it. When Don left, I gave him my email address and cell phone number and we promised to meet again when I came back to New York. Needless to say, I made it a point to influence my scheduling in such a way as to come back every chance I got. Don and I began an affair that lasted for over a year. We never really discussed divorce. Though Don wasn't happy in his marriage, divorce wasn't a realistic option for him. It never occurred to me to consider it, either. Though Don rocked my world, sexually, that didn't take anything away from what Mark did for me or certainly how I felt about him. The strange and tragic thing was, even though, I obviously kept my affair a secret from Mark, the thought of stopping never even occurred to me. The thought about consequences never occurred to me. I loved Mark as dearly as I ever had and withheld nothing from him either physically or emotionally. I guess that somehow I allowed myself to subconsciously believe that I had two separate lives....yes....I know what you're thinking. ************ I broke down when Mark walked out our door. There are no words that can describe my anguish as I saw him leave. I knew when he came out of the closet in New York that my life was probably over. Interesting, that Don was the furthest thing from my mind at that point. It wasn't until our discussion he described to you that I started to get some sense as to the depth of hurt I had caused him, and suddenly, it was if I had just waken from a dream. Had I actually done this? Was this me? The questions started flowing as I sat there on my living room floor: What made me dishonor my husband as I had done? Did I really love him? Could I truly love him to have done what I had done? Was it possible I loved Don even though it hadn't occurred to me before that I might? If I did, did that somehow mitigate my unfaithfulness? Why......why hadn't I stopped to think...even for a minute about the possible consequences of my actions? Mark was right about one thing for sure. My reaction to getting caught was simply that. I was sorry to have been caught and was reacting very strongly to that. Even now I knew that telling him I was sorry that it happened wouldn't hold any water. Clearly, I had a lot of work to do if there was any hope of saving my marriage. Saving my marriage? I almost laughed a very bitter laugh as the thought occurred to me. Mark as much as told me that he wouldn't consider it. These thoughts and a million others of the same ilk flooded my mind the remainder of the afternoon and evening as I continued to sit there. I felt sorry for the hurt I cause Mark, but mostly, I felt sorry for myself. I woke up early the following morning disoriented and very sore. I eventually fell asleep right there in the floor and it turned out that was not very comfortable situation from which to wake up. My eyes were swollen and scratchy. My clothing was disheveled. I was a complete and utter mess. One thing hit me with a sudden clarity at some point in my mini-pilgrimage of self-pity. As impossible as it seemed, Mark DID allow for reconciliation. I had to hope he would honor that, even if he, too just felt it was impossible as he more or less said that he had. I had to act and act quickly. I didn't know what I had to do, but I did know I had to do something. I thought back to some of what Mark had said yesterday. I had never fully and truly appreciated it until now, but I can now say that it's one of the things that I truly had always loved about Mark. He processed and communicated things very objectively. He wasn't insensitive or devoid of emotion, but he had a knack for boiling things down to the issues that really made sense with people. He had often said that he was an amateur sociologist. He loved simply watching people in the mall, airport, and restaurants, whatever. I latched on to his comment about me having reacted to being caught for both a reason to try to contact him as well as to try to buy myself some time. I called his cell phone hoping to reach him, but knowing I would not. The husband never answers his phone in this situation in Literotica stories, does he? I think it must be a rule of the universe. "You have the wrong number, Denise. I wouldn't guess that Mark is anywhere near Don in your speed dial." The shock of hearing his actual voice instead of his voice mail greeting rocked me as I thought 'Of course, I wouldn't have Don in my speed dial" and "I can't believe you answered' seemingly all at the same time. "M....Mark? " "Yes? Who did you think you'd get when you called this number? I assume you want the name of my lawyer so that you can give it to yours, but I don't have one, yet. I was planning to get one today." "Oh my God! No! That's not why I was calling, Mark! I wanted you to know that some of what you told me yesterday actually sank in. I'm sure that it will all sink in eventually, of course, but I wanted you to know that, even though you aren't really and realistically allowing for reconciliation, I want to make the effort to be worth a second chance with you. I understand I have a lot of work to do and a lot of thinking about how I could have betrayed you this way. I know I can't realistically even approach you to talk about it until I have, but I want to and I hope you'll give me the chance to do that." There was a long silence at the other end of the line as I held my breath. "Denise.... You say you're hearing me, but clearly, you're not. Let me put it another way. Remember our discussions before we were married in which I expressed the concern that you might get bored or tired of me or figure out that you could easily find someone "in your league?" Well, clearly you have done that now. I have no idea why you're engaging in this charade that you still want me, but I don't believe it. I told you yesterday that you need to go and be with Don now." "Don is NOT what I want and he's married anyway." "Sorry, but it doesn't work that way. You're still not getting it. YOU...DESTROYED...ME! Do you think that because I'm not crying and not asking you 'why' that it means you hurt me any less? You have demonstrated that: I don't satisfy you sexually, you're not attracted to me, you don't respect me, and your marriage vows don't hold any value to you. Nothing you can say will change any of that because your actions have already proved it. One thing I DO still have is my pride and I will NOT sacrifice that just so that I can live my life wondering when it's going to happen again or if you're thinking about him." By this time, I was shaking. I had genuinely hoped that he would at least let me try, but it seems that the conditions he had laid out as being impossible really were impossible in his mind. "Mark, I wish there were something I could say or do that would take it all away." "Denise it's clear to me that you do not understand the magnitude of the situation. Let me leave you with these couple of thoughts. I can't say I don't love you anymore because I can't just turn it off as much as I wish I could. Having said that, love is an emotion, but it's also a choice. I don't know how long this has been going on, but I do know that at some point, you made a choice to betray me. Either you made it consciously and may have even made some attempt to rationalize it, or you made it subconsciously. There is no way that I can compete with Don or anyone else that is new and exciting to you after we've been together for as long as we have. Clearly, you're not to that point, yet, but eventually, Don will be in the same boat that I am in that regard. What's going to happen at that point? Are you going to cheat on him, too? " "Oh...and one other thing...do you really think that our sex life has remained as new and exciting to me as it was at the beginning? It has not because it can't. Here's how I chose to address that in case you're curious. I tried hard to keep the romance alive and keep the excitement going for both of us by being spontaneous, making time for us, and making you feel sexy and special. Additionally...in those times that I found myself in situations where I was attracted to another woman and there seemed to be mutual interest...and there have been a few... I chose you. Every time. You chose Don, Denise." "Goodbye Denise!" Suddenly, so many things came into focus for me with those words. I am truly embarrassed by my actions in total, but one of the things about which I'm particularly embarrassed is the fact that it never even occurred to me that Mark may have an interest in cheating or an opportunity to cheat. How thoughtless and arrogant I've been. I tried, for a moment to picture walking in on Mark with another woman and my heart broke. Peculiar isn't it? Just the thought of it broke my heart. Because of my actions, he had to live the real experience. I realized that my faithfulness for most of our marriage wasn't a result of a great marriage, though we certainly had that. Nor was it the result of any great moral character on my part. I simply had never been interested in all that many men. Every time I had been interested, I had acted upon it...even when I was happily married. I don't like myself very much at the moment. Yes...that's stating the obvious. I have always taken some sort of pride in making good decisions and maintaining a focus on important things, but it seems I never learned one of life's most important lessons. Interestingly, it's a lesson that most adults try to teach their children when they're very young. Most of us can truly have anything we really want. We just can't have 'everything' we want ....nor should we. She Said I Was the One "Bring that beautiful cock up here and fuck me with it, Don!" Don, needless to say, was not shy about helping out in that regard. They went for the old stand-by missionary position as she reached for his cock and grabbed it, and then fitted it to the opening of her sopping wet and glistening pussy. He slid it to the hilt and it was like a firecracker went off inside of her. "Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me hard! Omigod, no one can make me feel like you do! Your cock reaches places that my husband has never been! FUUUUUUCCCCCCKKKKK Meeeeeeeeeee!" I'm pretty sure that last part was an orgasm. I watched for almost 2 hours, and simply cannot describe the grief that I felt. It literally overwhelmed me. I could literally FEEL the emotional pain. A couple of things became very clear to me. First was that I didn't sexually satisfy my wife, though I had always thought I had. Second was, though the may love me...or thought she did, she certainly had some feelings for my new friend, Don. I decided that I had seen enough. Of course the tears running down my face might have helped in my decision making process. I stepped out of the closet and just stood watching them for a minute before they noticed I was there. I seem to have caught their attention at the same time and Denise shrieked and covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh my God! Mark!" She started sobbing immediately and covered herself. Don just looked up at me as if he didn't have a care in the world. Many men in this situation would have been very angry...rightfully so. Many men would have inflicted as much pain as they could on the man lying on top of their wife, or...at least attempted to do so. There are also men that would have started yelling and screaming at their wife, though I hope they would not raise a hand against them in violence. Me? I was just hurt beyond words rather than being mad per se. I had a sense of despair that was so overwhelming, that I couldn't begin to adequately describe it. He hadn't promised anything to me. He certainly didn't know me. Denise, on the other hand, had promised to love, honor, and cherish me. She had promised to forsake all others. I simply turned around and walked out the door and got the first cab I could find to the airport. Needless to say, my brain was mush all the way back to Chicago. I took the first flight out even though the only available seat was in first class. I was vaguely aware of my cell phone ringing periodically, but it never occurred to me to answer it. Who did I want to talk to right now? I called my boss first thing in the morning and made arrangements to take the rest of the week off. As always happens in Literotica stories, he was very supportive since I had been a solid performer, and indicated that they would get along fine without me for the short term. That afternoon, Denise came into the house very subdued. I was sitting in my chair staring straight ahead trying to determine what the first step might be to move forward with my life. "I'm so sorry, Mark. I know that doesn't begin to cover it, of course." I simply looked up at her and then looked away. There was a long period of silence as I felt, rather than saw, her continuing to look at me. When she apparently couldn't stand the silence anymore she came to me and started to put her arms around me. I immediately jumped away. For some reason, that seemed to cause her to become even more upset. "Oh my God, what have I done?" she lamented...I assume to no one in particular. I still hadn't uttered a word. What could I say? A man is entitled to a fair amount of self pity at a time like this. I didn't want to drink and dull the pain. I wanted to feel it. I wanted my guy to wrench. How silly of me to think that someone like her could ever be content with someone like me? (Yes...more self pity.) "Mark? I know this is a ridiculous question right now... but... do you think you could.... I mean, is there any way you could find it in your heart to forgive me? Not now, of course... but some day?" That question confused me, I'll admit. I turned to look at her with what I can only assume was a genuinely puzzled expression on my face. I sensed that she noted my puzzlement. "Forgive you?" "Yes. I know I don't deserve it, but I'll do anything for as long as it takes...." "Forgive you? Why would you care about me forgiving you? Now that I know, you can be with him. I assume that's what you want. I assume the only thing that has kept you with me before an attempt not to hurt me by leaving, right? By the way, I don't really know or care how long it has gone on, or who he is, or anything like that. Frankly, none of it would matter much, would it?" "God no, Mark! I want to be with you! I know my actions don't demonstrate that very well, but that's all I've ever wanted since we met!" She broke down at that point and wept openly. "Denise, I don't even know how to respond to that. Do you remember that I heard how you talked to him as you were fucking? Don't you think I understand now that I clearly haven't been meeting your needs, but that your boyfriend, Don, has been? I know my cock isn't big enough for you by listening to the two of you together. I also noticed he was quite tall. Remember me asking you to make sure you could live with me being shorter than you? I was ok with it, but clearly you were not. Do you not think I have an OUNCE of pride? Why would I, or any man, consider staying with a woman who clearly is so attracted to someone else? Why, Denise?" More weeping. "He isn't ½ the man you are! I want you. I don't want him. I've already told him so." "Well, you'd better call him and tell him you've changed your mind, then. I simply don't believe you when you say that. If he isn't ½ the man I am, you wouldn't have fucked him once, let alone for who knows how long. No, Denise. I need to be the center of the universe of my woman as you have been for me." "Mark... I don't know why I did it, but I never wanted you to be hurt. You ARE the center of my universe!" "Denise, this is ludicrous. There is no way I'll believe you. Your actions have proved just the opposite. I TOLD YOU I WOULDN'T BE ENOUGH FOR YOU, REMEMBER? (ok...I may have been getting upset with her at that point) Use a little common sense here. Why would I believe you have an interest in staying with me? Would you if the situation were reversed? You've been caught, so you're emotionally charged as a result of that, but think about it. If you could magically be with him now instead of me...and if no was hurt in the process.....would you take that option? I think you would. If you're honest with yourself, I think you would, too. "Please don't leave me! I couldn't take being without you! Please make it up to you, Mark!" I was very convinced, at this point, that Denise was simply reacting. It's not that she wanted me or didn't want him. She was just feeling the trauma of getting caught and this was her natural reaction. "I'm leaving, Denise. Surely you didn't think you could have an affair and I'd stay with you...especially after what I saw and heard. I will leave you with some thoughts on the potential of us getting back together, should you decide you're interested. I didn't say if you ARE interested. You need to really think about this....for a long time. There are four things that have to happen if we would ever have any chance of getting back together. I will NOT get back together and have anything less than a loving, mutually fulfilling, and vibrant relationship. You have to PROVE all the following to me. Note that I'm not saying show me or tell me. By prove, I mean that you truly have to make me believe that none of the four issues the least bit in doubt. You must: prove you love me, prove I can trust you, restore my dignity, and prove that I satisfy you." "If we were to ever be in a relationship again...which I'm assuming will not be the case, you need to communicate more proactively so that nothing like this ever happens again. I thought...and fairly so...that you were satisfied with our sex life before. Clearly I was wrong. Why did I not have a chance to address that before you went elsewhere? I had every right to expect to have that opportunity, but you deprived me of that, partly because you didn't communicate with me the way wives are supposed to communicate with their husbands!" I was exhausted after that tirade, though I never yelled or screamed. Ok...I came close once. "How can I do all that? Tell me what it will take and I'll do it." "I have no idea. If I did, frankly, I'm not sure I'd tell you. It's up to you to figure out IF you want to and HOW you're going to do it, if so. Since I assume you can't make all that happen, Denise. I want to thank you for the illusion of a great and happy 12 years together." I walked to the door and paused only briefly without looking back as I left our house and our life.