Stretching luxuriously in my cozy bed under the warm duvet, I watched my wife, Victoria, through half-closed eyes. Just like the day before, she was up at the crack of dawn.
In the dim light, dressed only in a light silk robe that did little to hide her curves, she kept glancing back at me, clearly trying to make sure I was still asleep while she rummaged through the closet picking out an outfit. After twenty years of marriage, Vicki really should have known by now that I'm a pretty light sleeper.
Still, we'd lived a happy enough life together. We raised our daughter and watched her head off to start her own independent life—she's always been self-reliant, that girl. My wife and I both work at the same local waste management facility: she's in HR, and I'm a sanitation truck driver. It's a bit of a gritty job, sure, but it pays surprisingly well. You'd be amazed at the valuable things people throw away. Besides, it was thanks to the company that Vicki and I ever found each other in the first place.
My darling had already been working in recruitment for a couple of years when a young, fairly handsome guy decided to apply for a job—and as you've probably guessed, that guy was me. It would've been a sin to pass up an opportunity handed to me by fate itself, in the form of a tanned girl with a stunning figure and legs that went on forever. I couldn't take my eyes off her. While she processed my paperwork, blushing and acting shy at my compliments, I decided right then and there that she was going to be mine. Arthur is a man of his word; less than a year later, I was leading my bride down the aisle and sliding a heavy gold band onto her slender finger. Over the years, I never stopped feeling lucky. It's hard to find a woman so easygoing in daily life yet so wild in the bedroom—and believe me, I had plenty of experience in that department before I got married.
Anyway, we've been together a long time now; I've even started getting those silver "hairs of wisdom" on the top of my head. In all that time, she never gave me a single reason to doubt her loyalty. But that streak apparently ended yesterday. I had just taken some time off work to fix the leaky roof on our cozy little suburban home. Vicki had recently returned from a trip to Mexico with a girlfriend and was using up the rest of her vacation days.
You might wonder why I didn't go on the trip with her. The answer is simple: for a guy like me, there's no greater pleasure than bobbing in a boat with a fishing rod in hand, watching the sunrise and sunset. Throw in a cold beer and a sandwich, and it's paradise. All those overseas trips are for people looking for a different kind of adventure.
However, Vicki came back from that trip a bit changed. Maybe it was the tropical sun and the salt water, but she became even more attentive and eager to please, and her eyes had a spark I couldn't quite describe. Of course, I was happy about the change and hoped it would never end, but yesterday morning I suspected something was wrong when she slipped out of the house before dawn in a very suggestive outfit. She'd always been modest in her clothing choices, yet there she was in a fancy, short dress that showed off quite a bit of leg. I pretended to be fast asleep.
She returned an hour later, still glancing warily at me, quickly changed back into her usual nightgown, and ducked into bed.
All day I went back and forth on whether to ask her straight out where she'd been at such a romantic hour. In the end, I decided to play detective and catch her red-handed. It seemed obvious: my sweetheart was shamelessly cheating on me!
So here we were today. While I pretended to snore, my wife pulled on a pair of provocative stockings over her shapely legs, followed by a tight red skirt and a dressy white blouse. In that outfit, my dear looked more like a "naughty teacher" than a devoted wife. Casting one last cautious glance at me, Vicki quietly slipped out of the room and closed the door...
***
I was out of bed like lightning. I threw on some sweatpants and my favorite old t-shirt and bolted out of the house after her. There she was in high heels, hips swaying as she proudly strutted down the moonlit street. I followed, ducking behind bushes, already imagining how I'd let her lover have it before telling this cheater exactly what I thought of her. Soon, Vicki turned off the main road and headed into a small wooded area.
The winding path through the woods led to a small, quiet train station. As far as I knew, there weren't any commuter trains scheduled for this time of night. Where on earth was she going?
I didn't have to wait long for the answer. Walking up to the small station office where only one window was lit, Vicki gave a soft tap with her manicured nails. While I hid behind a massive oak tree, eyes wide with shock, she slipped through the door as it opened and clicked shut behind her. But as quick as they were, I saw who had opened the door: a big, bearded guy in a blue uniform. It was Mike, the station master.
"That lowlife! I just lent him my chainsaw yesterday to cut some firewood," I thought furiously, marching toward the building to demand an explanation in a much more aggressive manner.
But when I reached the window, I froze at the sight. Through the glass, that brute was doing things to my wife that you wouldn't even see in an R-rated movie. And then, something snapped in me. Instead of breaking the window and showing that scoundrel what's what, I couldn't stop watching. To my shame, I'll admit I actually liked what I saw. Not only that, but without even knowing why, I pulled out my phone and started recording. It turned out to be quite a film—about fifty minutes long.
As soon as she started getting dressed, I took off like a shot, not wanting to be caught.
***
I made it back to our house and wanted to dive back into bed, trying to catch my breath. My heavy breathing wasn't just from the run, though—I realized that pretty quickly. Suddenly, I saw my wife's phone on the coffee table. The screen lit up with an incoming message.
"Probably her lover thanking her," I thought, grabbing the device.
But it wasn't Mike; it was the friend she'd gone to the beach with. Reading through their chat, everything became clear.
It turned out Victoria had been feeling a lack of male attention for a long time. Even though I tried my best—better than many younger guys could manage—it wasn't enough for her. Her passionate nature wanted more. She'd held it in for twenty years without straying, but hitting her fifties, she felt she couldn't take it anymore. Following her friend's advice, she'd sought out a "professional" arrangement. All the while, she'd been praising me in the messages so much I almost teared up.
Judge me if you want, but I forgave her right then and there.
The front door creaked. I put the phone back in a flash and dove into bed. A few seconds later, my wife cautiously entered the room.
Peering through my eyelashes, I saw her standing by the mirror, admiring her reflection. If only someone could have seen that glow of a satisfied woman—she was absolutely blooming! Just moments ago, I wanted to tear her apart for the betrayal, but now I couldn't even bring myself to admit I knew about her escapades.
As Victoria changed into her nightwear, I cursed myself silently, telling myself I should kick her out of the house I built with my own hands and file for divorce after shaming her in front of the whole town. But I couldn't do it. I just couldn't. Mostly because I wanted her right then more than I ever had before. The moment she lay down, I pretended to wake up and pounced on the poor, startled woman like a wild tiger. She didn't understand what was happening, but she didn't have much time to think, because I made sure she experienced all that pleasure all over again, right there with me.
Surprisingly, she enthusiastically joined in the games, rising to the occasion as always. Afterward, she squeezed my hand with her small palm and whispered with deep gratitude:
"Good grief, Arthur! We've never been like that before! You're a beast!"
I just smiled and replied:
"It's going to be like this from now on. I guess I didn't realize what my wife was capable of either."
We fell asleep in each other's arms shortly after.
That day marked the beginning of a new life for us. I kept that "movie" as a little memento; it helps me remember not just my wife's hidden fire, but my own as well. Vicki's secret trips stopped soon after—there just wasn't any need for them anymore.
Take it from me, guys: give your wives plenty of attention. That way, the only person they'll have energy left for is you.
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