[This story was sent to me by a guy I was starting to see back in 2008. We never fucked, but he did listen on the phone to me fucking someone else. He had pet guinea pigs. Yes, he was an adult. Because a lot of time has passed, I feel completely justified in posting this. Yeah, I'm a bad person.]
The first time he caught her cheating, they had only been together for six months. They had been living together in a modest, attractive apartment for three months, and both were so deeply in love that they kept in nearly constant contact with each other. There were many days where the love notes, emails, quick phone calls, and text messages numbered in double-digits. Both felt luxuriously secure in their relationship.
She was in the shower when her lover sent her a text message. She always kept her cell phone on vibrate, and always deep in her purse. She often missed phone calls because she could not hear the phone, which had annoyed him in the past. She had always explained her preference by saying she was bothered by the way people turned to look whenever a cell phone rang. He understood, because that annoyed him, too.
Uncharacteristically, she had left it on the desk earlier that day while she was paying her bills. It rattled so loudly now against the wood that he went across the room and grabbed it not to surveil her, but only to silence it. Her mother called all the time.
It blinked the words, “New Message: Jonathan.” He became overwhelmed by curiosity, his blood pressure rising, and flipped the phone open. To his horror, the words, “cant wait to feel your pussy again sweetie,” were printed across the screen in neat Times New Roman.
She explained that he was just a new guy at work. He was cute, and a little flirting got out of hand. She carefully explained that he was not a threat to their relationship, and that it was a one-time thing. She even added that she regretted it now, since it had hurt him. She apologized profusely, and swore her emotional fidelity constantly for the next several days. He eventually came to realize that she was right – nothing had changed in their relationship – and had all but forgotten the hurt he had felt within a week.
His trust was somewhat damaged, however, and their barrage of love notes and phone calls swelled in intensity. He no longer trusted her at work, and made a point to contact her almost every hour just to keep tabs on her. Although he now had a burning desire to know what she was doing every minute of the day, he felt comforted by the fact that they so easily survived what would have ended so many less-confident relationships. Their sex was more intense than ever due to his masculine drive to outperform any competition, and they slept together every night, curled up comfortably.
He gradually became preoccupied with the idea of her having sex with Jonathan, though he didn’t notice the change in himself for some time. He thought about Jonathan every time they had sex. He thought about Jonathan every time she came home from work more than ten minutes late. He often visualized their bodies intertwined, and eventually began thinking about those images while they made love. After a particularly charged lovemaking session a couple of months since her infidelity, he admitted his preoccupation to her.
“So that’s why you’ve been working so hard in bed lately, is it?” she asked.
“I guess so. I don’t know. I sort of don’t like the idea that I get turned on by the thought of my girlfriend cheating on me, but it drives me crazy.”
“Want me to keep doing it?” she asked, biting her lower lip, smiling slightly.
“Is that some kind of half-joke? That’s not funny,” he said, pursing his lips.
“No honey, I promise, it’s a total joke. I don’t want to hurt you.”
[To be continued ….]
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