CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I woke up on the couch in the office, confused, and then in a panic. After I realized it was Sunday and Ashley was in Connecticut, I calmed down—slightly.
There was a half-empty bottle of gin beside me.
I checked the call history on my cell and was relieved to have only spoken with my brother. I had vague recollections of what happened after that. I remembered going into the “Cuckolds” room when the “My Wife” room was full. I had a real sinking feeling.
I made my way over to the computer, which was on screen saver mode. My chat dialogues were still open. The last one was some guy asking if I was still there. That was at 5 a.m.
I looked at my “sent” emails folder.
I had sent photos of Ashley and me—on our wedding day and our honeymoon.
I felt like throwing up.
Then I noticed I had two new emails. The subject line of the first read, “Show this to Ashley”; the guy’s cock was in the attachment. The second was a returned photo of Ashley at our wedding. The sender had blown his load on the photo—right on her face.
I put my head in my hands. I could still taste the fucking gin in my throat.
Then I read some of the still open chats and cringed. I had given out our names, ages, and how we lived on the Upper West Side.
I began furiously skimming through the different chats I’d had the late night before …
I would make Ashley say ‘thank you.’ Could you handle that, Dave? The last wife I fucked couldn’t stop thanking me in me front of her husband.
So you cried when you found out. Haha … pussy!
He got you real good. I’m sure her friend was talking shit about you in the bathroom!
I would love to turn your wife out! You’ll lose all confidence when I’m there!
I bet her friend laughed as she sent you upstairs like you didn’t matter —because you fucking didn’t.
They wouldn’t let in you the bathroom as your own wife was being fucked.
I can see how that would be humiliating, very humiliating.
All these people know your wife slutted for another man.
Her friend must think you’re a wimp, probably sensed what kind of man you are,
I’m going to fuck Ashley and humiliate and degrade you in front of her.
I’m going to take Ashley right the fuck in front of you.
You’re gonna sit in a fucking school-boy chair and take it.
You’re wife’s going to see you jerk off as I fuck her.
Ashley’s going to look in your eyes as she blows me.
I love breaking another man down—stripping away his manhood in front of his wife.
The look of defeat on his face as I fuck the woman he loves and cherishes.
I love virgin cuckolds …
Your wife’s pussy will become my property.
You’re done fucking her, ‘2-pumps and done’ boy.
You’re gonna be serving us breakfast in your bed with an apron on, bitch!
She’s going to be my fuck toy.
Your cock whore wife is going to dress nice and bimbo slutty for me.
You’re going to watch as I use her, and you’re going to clean her up for my use.
Ever eat a creampie, boy?
I’m going to humiliate you completely. Is this understood Davey?
I’m going to bitch you out first. Make you my whore, and have you show up at my apartment wearing Ashley’s lingerie.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” I said as I went to the living room. These guys had pulled their own online Jim Murta on me.
I opened the email again from the guy who sent me a photo of his cock and lined the image up against Ashley in her bikini. His cock was in a different league than mine. And he had gotten off on belittling me, personalizing it, talking about fucking Ashley in my apartment, right in front of me.
I thought of the guy who jerked off and came over my wife’s face in the photo on our wedding day.
All these guys verbally taunted and humiliated me …
They wanted Ashley …
They’d fuck her in a heartbeat …
They’d fuck her right in front of me …
After I came, I just sat there catching my breath, thinking, what have I been reduced to? This is all your fault, Jim Murta. Did you have any idea what your actions would do to me? You’ve got me talking to strangers, masturbating looking at other cocks, imagining that they’re yours.
****
“I just had a stare-down with a cow,” Ashley said when I picked up my cell a half hour later.
“You what?” I replied.
“We took a drive this morning—Julie and Bob dubbed me their ‘fresh air fund kid’ for the weekend—so they saw this cow by the side of the road and they’re like, ‘Look Ashley it’s a cow.’ ”
“Yeah, and—?”
“Well, they pulled over, and I walked right up to him by this fence, and I was like, ‘Hi cow, I’m Ashley.’ ”
“And he was like, ‘Hi Ashley, I’m a cow?’ ” I replied, still dazed.
“Mmm, not so much. He looked more puzzled, like, ‘Who is this girl, and why is she so excited to see me?’ ”
“So did you form a special bond with your cow friend?”
“No, I motioned to pet him and he gave me a look like ‘Don’t even think about it.’ ”
“Oh well, did he at least give you a ‘moo’ ”?
“Nope, I felt kind of gypped … but we’re heading out to her uncle’s farm now. Maybe I can try milking one and bring a big jug back.”
“Sounds good,” I said. “We’re pretty low on milk, but I’ll scratch that off my grocery list, since you’ve got that covered.”
“So what are you up to today?” she asked.
“Kind of a mellow morning,” I replied, “just doing some work, about to go to the park.”
“OK,” Ashley, said. “Well, I’ll probably have dinner up here, so I won’t be back till late.”
****
I still had a hangover, and so decided to fix myself a small drink, in a hair of the dog kind of way.
Then I saw a new message.
I realized I was still logged in.
“Hi Dave, I’m Mike, 32, so what brings you to the room?”
I thought about not replying, but then figured I could always just click him off. “I just learned the term ‘cuckold’ and was checking the room out of curiosity.”
“What are you curious about?”
“Well,” I typed, “someone had suggested I check out this room, but I just don’t get the mentality of the guys here.”
“LOL,” he wrote, “yeah, it kind of runs the gamut. Who suggested you check out the room?”
“Some guy I met online last week in the ‘My Wife’ room. But I’m not a cuckold or anything. I was just perusing.”
“Of course,” he replied, “why did this man refer you here, do you think?”
“I had mentioned my wife had recently cheated.”
“I see,” he wrote. “How have you been handling it?”
“It’s been the most fucked up thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“I’m sorry to hear you’re upset. May I ask what happened?”
He kept asking questions, but he was different from the night before. He wasn’t insulting, but rather, understanding. A half hour later, I had pretty much told him the full story.
“I can see why that would have you out of sorts,” he wrote. “How are things now?”
“Ostensibly good,” I replied, “but we’ve both kind of swept it under the rug.”
“Do you think that’s wise?”
“Probably not,” I said, “but I’ve felt a bit paralyzed.”
“That’s very understandable, and emotions are raw, but communication is essential. Do you feel you can trust her?”
“I can’t trust her like I did before.”
“So is it fear that has you paralyzed?”
“That’s certainly part
of it.”
“And what specifically scares you?”
“Her telling me she wants to leave me, or doesn’t love me, or wants a divorce.”
“Has she hinted at that?”
“No, she told me that she appreciated how understanding I’ve been and that she loves me.”
“OK, that’s encouraging and reassuring right?”
“Yeah.”
“Good,” he replied, “but it sounds like you still have more questions. What’s your wife’s name?”
“Ashley.”
“OK, so it sounds like you have unanswered questions for Ashley?”
“Yeah.”
“So why haven’t you asked them? Out of fear?”
“I guess so, yeah.”
“Fear of upsetting her or fear of what she might say?”
“I just don’t want to drive her away.”
“Makes sense, I get it. So what would you ask Ashley if there were no repercussions?”
“I want to know the rumor or story in full, the details her work people know.”
“So you would like her to give you the full story of that night?”
“Yes, but I don’t know how I could handle it coming from her.”
“But hearing additional details would be erotic for you, right? I mean, it has turned you on thinking about that night?”
“Yeah, and I know how fucked up that sounds.”
“It doesn’t sound fucked up. You learned of another side of Ashley’s sexuality and after the hurt and the shock, it began to excite you. That’s a very common male reaction.”
“Not in the men I know,” I typed. “No guy or friend of mine would react that way.”
“Don’t be so sure, Dave. You would be surprised, believe me.”
“Well, I’ve talked to guys online who’ve had similar reactions, but it’s a skewed sample for sure.”
“Trust me, Dave, it’s a lot more common, and you’d be surprised what goes on behind closed doors. So, you masturbate thinking about your wife in the bathroom?”
“Yes.”
“Very common,” Mike replied, “and I want to get back to
that … but it seems to me you’re looking for reassurance. What would you like to hear from Ashley?”
“That it was an aberration. That she truly does love me, is happy with me, has no thoughts of leaving me.”
“Why don’t you ask her?”
“I did. She said she loves me, but I’m insecure.”
“OK, did you ask her why she did it?”
“Not directly. I asked if she got caught up in the moment and she cribbed that back to me, saying, ‘Yes, that’s what happened.’ ”
“How did the conversation end?”
“I couldn’t deal and I changed the subject.”
“Do you think she would have elaborated or wanted to explain more, had you not changed the subject?”
“I don’t know.”
“Have you told her that while it hurt, part of it was a turn-on for you?”
“No, I could never tell her that.”
“Why not?”
“I think she’d lose all respect for me. Or whatever respect she still has.”
“She might have more respect for you for being honest and open about your feelings and emotions. Did you ever think of that?”
“I don’t buy that.”
“Why not?”
“Because she would think it was off the charts weird. She humiliated me that night, fucking this guy with me right outside, and I react by masturbating. I can’t tell her that.”
“You don’t have to tell her that. You can tell her that part of you was turned on by her sexuality.”
“No,” I typed, “I just couldn’t. There’s too much to lose.”
“I understand, and I realize you’re scared and overwhelmed. But can I give you an outsider’s perspective?”
“Sure,” I typed.
“You have every right to be upset with her over what she did. And her mimicking back your rationale—that she got caught up in the moment—is kind of weak. But, even if she wasn’t honest that first night, she did admit to it when you asked. I know you didn’t like hearing the guy had a bigger cock than you, but you pressed the question, and she was just being honest. And maybe she had more to say, but you changed the subject.”
“I was flustered,” I typed.
“I understand that, Dave, but maybe realize you both have played a role in sweeping this under the rug. Ashley did eventually come clean, but you haven’t come clean with her.”
“How do you mean?”
“Ashley doesn’t know that part of it turned you on, or how much you’re consumed with it now, because you’ve shared none of that with her. You’ve become a lot more closed about it than she has. Honesty and openness is a two-way street, and right now they seem to be coming only from her.”
“I can’t tell her that.”
“That elephant in the room is only going to get bigger. Every day you don’t talk to her, you’re simply feeding that elephant.”
“Are you married?” I asked.
“No,” he replied, “but I have friends who have gone through very similar stuff.”
“How did it work out for them?”
“The ones who are together and whose marriages are stronger,” he replied, “were open with their wives.”
“I want to be honest with her,” I typed, “but it’s a very embarrassing thing to admit.”
“What’s embarrassing?”
“That I was turned on.”
“Well, the rumor was embarrassing for her, yet she still told you.”
“I think the only reason she told me was that she assumed I’d already heard.”
“Maybe so, but she didn’t run from it.”
“Eventually, no.”
“Where are you guys from?”
“Manhattan UWS.”
“OK, I’m from Brooklyn myself. So telling Ashley it turned you on is not something you feel comfortable doing?”
“No.”
“OK, so you want to find out if it truly was an aberrant ‘caught up in the moment’ event, or if she’s still seeing or wants to see other guys. Is that it?”
“Yes,” I said, “that’s a lot of it.”
“And the other part is you want to know the details, but that’s really not the critical part, that would simply satisfy your curiosity?”
“Yeah,” I typed, “I guess I want to know why she did it.”
“OK, so, the questions are why did she do it and does she have inclinations to do something like it again.”
“Yes, exactly.”
“I get it,” he replied, “so maybe you take what motivated her to do it first. That may well indicate if she’s inclined to do it again.”
“I don’t know what motivated her.”
“Dave, I’m just saying, in your next talk with her, you ask her questions that allow her to hint about her motivations. You don’t have to tackle the world the first time out. But you do need to start talking to her about this.”
“Yeah,” I said, “well, I think her friend had a lot to do with it. When she told the guy to whip it out, I’m suspecting Ashley was intrigued by his size.”
“Yeah, that may be, or maybe she was just being adventurous. Are you particularly small?”
“I’m like six.”
“OK, so you don’t have a big cock, but you’re in the normal range.”
“Yeah, but I told you about her ‘Just bigger OK’ comment.”
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