If you’d told me that the key to unlocking my wife’s sexuality would be a cheesy, poorly produced, badly acted porn movie about pirates, I would have done more than laughed in your face. I’d have paid for you to see a therapist. The very idea was absurd. Liz had grown up in a very religious household. A very traditional Catholic family. The sort that thought nearly everything was a sin. All of human nature was to be denied and shamed. Sex especially. Funny enough, she came fr

I stared out the window, sitting at the table, sipping my coffee, eyeing the house next door. It was hard not to picture Robert as some sort of sinister figure. Watching us through the closed blinds. Plotting. Spying. Our confrontation was still raw, itching at me. The man’s confidence was… unsettling. Liz’s hand touched my shoulder. Warm. Reassuring. Her lips touched the top of my head, and I caught the deep scent of her. Her skin. Sweat. The lingering smell of her sex. My e

I saw red. Things went black. The world became silent. I’m not sure how long I was like that, sitting frozen and staring into nothingness, but when it all came rushing back—the colors, the sounds—I was gripping the edge of the table, my nails digging into the wood. “Excuse me?” I muttered through gritted teeth. There was no way Rob was missing the vein throbbing in my forehead. Or how tightly my muscles were coiled. But he didn’t show a single iota of worry that I might jump

I stood quietly in front of the coffee machine in the breakroom. It was early on a Friday, and the office was quiet. Most people didn’t start getting in until around nine, but I always liked being early on Fridays so I could leave early. It was my routine. So much had been disrupted over this last year, holding on to one thing, even as small as this, that was consistent was invaluable. Early morning quiet in the office. Starting the coffee. Watching it percolate. Pouring a cu

I spent my day doing two things. Cleaning the house, and ignoring texts from Ash. I’d been neglectful of my duties at home over the past month since things started up with Ash. Not that house cleaning was an expected job or duty for me. Conner did plenty of that work too, but it was unfair to unload it all on him while I went out… ugh. All my energy had gone into deep cleaning the house. Dusting. Scrubbing. Scouring the bathtub to the point it was bleached white as if it were

I didn’t even bother to shower off last night. Could Conner smell it on me? Why did that make me feel like I was a teenager again, trying to hide the smell of pot or cigarettes from my parents. Conner wasn’t in bed when I woke up. He wasn’t in the house either. And I woke up at six. Much earlier than he needed to be at the office. The absence spiked such a visceral fear inside me that I had to rush to the bathroom, dry heaving into the toilet as I suffered a sudden and horrif

We were trying. I sat at the small table in our kitchen, sipping at my coffee, looking out the window. Our backyard was small, but nicely tended. Lovely flowers and shrubs. A tall standing birdhouse in one corner and an old oak in the other that gave a decent amount of shade in the summer. I’d spent a fair amount of time out there, Daisy by my side, doing the hard work to make it look presentable. Long outings. Sweat. Blood. A little love. In the days when we were a bit young

I’d watched the video almost a dozen times. There were probably more. But I couldn’t get past that first one. I watched my wife riding Ash over and over and over. There was clear disdain in her voice for him, but her body was submitting. Letting him cum inside her. The sounds of her pleasure… pleasure I’d once given her, now being given by another. It was stomach churning. It was also arousing. My penis may not have been responding, but I could still feel the stirring in my

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” I wanted to hammer down on the accelerator. To speed. It was past eleven. I should have been home hours ago. There was supposed to be a hot pizza sitting in the passenger's side seat. I should have been debating what movie to watch. Instead, I was pushing the speed limit, weaving in and out of what little traffic there was, keeping me from getting home to my husband. “Fucking Ash.” I grit my teeth, turning onto Rhoades Drive. Just a couple more minutes and

I was in my home office when Daisy got home near 1 AM. She didn’t see me. The lights were off, and I was sitting in the dark, a glass of Scotch in hand that I hadn't touched since I’d poured it an hour before. I was sitting on the small couch tucked into the corner of the office, deep in the shadows away from the bay window and the soft glow of my computer screen. She didn’t see me. But I saw her. Her hair was a matted mess, which she was trying to tame as she slipped through