Dirty Underwear

How do you know if your wife is cheating on you? Is it
a change in her mood? Does she leave the house in the
evening? Does she always want to go out with the girls?
Or, any number of the other hundreds of things to look
for? Mine is just a gut feeling.

I came home from work and she was on the phone. The
second I came in she said, “Gotta go, he’s home, bye.”
That’s it, which gave me this terrible gut reaction.

I thought about asking her who she was talking to but
she could say anybody, even a telemarketer. Thinking
like this couldn’t just come into my mind, could it? It
must have been in my conscious memory somewhere. I
didn’t want it there. I didn’t like it. I am not good
with change. I’m a more old fashioned leave it alone
till it breaks type guy.

Ann and I (I’m Jon) have been married going on
twenty-four years. We have four kids, two grown and two
teenagers. We don’t have a lot, but what we have is
ours. Don’t really owe anybody. We have a small house
but it’s paid for. Our cars aren’t the newest but there
are no payments. We probably have a few credit card
debts and that’s about it. We’re an average American
family and try to live within our means.

We work, eat, do a few things as a family, take care of
the house, do the school thing. That’s going to
everything your kid belongs to: sports, band, scouts
and any other thing they’re involved in. We sometimes
even have dinner together, which is a rarity nowadays.

Our sex life is probably like most people our age, once
every two weeks or so. I wish it was a lot more but it
takes two to tango. Ann hasn’t been much into dancing
lately, pun intended.

Because of my stupid gut, I’ll now have to be on the
lookout for any odd signs from Ann. It’s like I don’t
trust her anymore and for no reason. I’m just hoping my
gut feeling is only indigestion.

My problem is that I’m no super sleuth. I don’t know
much about the video cameras, phone bugging stuff,
whatever the hell that is, and I’m not rich enough to
hire a private investigator. Especially since I don’t
have the slightest clue what I’m looking for.

Ann handles all the finances so I have no idea what
she pays or when she pays it. If I start going looking
through all the bills, she’s going to want to know why.
What do I tell her? My gut hurts so you’ve been fucking
around on me? Boy, I bet that would go over big.

Our marriage seems normal, what ever that is in this
day and age. We met while in our twenties, dated about
a year, and then got married. She pops out a kid about
every two years. I got tired of the pop outs so I had a
vasectomy after the last one.

Well, this was one of those days where we all, the two
teenagers, my wife and I, have dinner together. The
kids talked a little about school and Ann talked
about her part time job at the library. After the last
two kids entered high school she was getting bored and
got a job at the local library. She was part-time and
her hours were irregular.

Maybe that’s one of the places I needed to check out.
But how do I do that. I can’t just take off work and
sit in fJont of the damn library to see who she talked
to. It would be everybody who walked into the damn
place. She’s the librarian.

Tonight she was going to her girls’ card club so I
guess I could start my private investigation after she
leaves. I would have to follow her in my old truck. I
could hardly afford a rental like they do in the other
stories.

I left minutes after she did. I knew where she was
going because she told me and left me a number where I
could get hold of her if I needed her.

I lost her or rather she lost me in the traffic so I
just drove over to Marge’s house where the card game
was supposed to be. When I got there I saw Ann’s car
among others in fJont of the house. I waited a few
minutes to make sure no one else was coming and then
got out of my truck, which I parked a couple of houses
down, and walked up to one of the windows and peeked
in.

When I looked in, I saw two card tables with four women
around each one playing cards. It was another dead end
so I slowly backed up to return to my truck and stepped
in a pile of dog shit. “Damn-it,” I said softly and
continued to my truck. I had to clean the shit off my
shoes before getting in my truck. Damn! It stunk.

When I got home I went into the clothes hamper and
looked for her bras and panties. Good, she hasn’t
washed clothes this week. As I pulled her panties out
of the hamper I felt the crotches and brought them up
to my nose. Damn, they stink; I don’t care what you
say. Panties sitting in a hamper for a few days stink.
It’s not the same as being horny and going down on your
woman. Everything smells good during sex. This was a
few days later.

I looked through her closet for anything that looked
out of place. Then I carefully looked through all her
drawers in the dresser. I found nothing. I located the
bills file in the filing cabinet. I went through all
the bills in the files. I didn’t find anything out of
the ordinary. She was good, for a cheating wife she was
excellent. I got on the computer and put in her
password. She told me what it was; we had it posted
next to the computer.

I went through all the e-mails which was kind of stupid
because we had a joint account and we both used the
same e-mail address. I couldn’t find anything. Here I
was for the last three hours looking for something and
just couldn’t find it.

When I read these stories on the computer, they find
all sorts of shit. Phone logs, motel bills, soiled
panties, hang ups on the telephone. They hire private
investigators. They plant phone listening devises.
Follow or have their wife followed. They find nude
photos, VCR tapes, and even catch strange men in their
bed. My Ann must be good, really good.

As I was starting to put everything away, the door
opened and in came Ann. I had her dirty underwear in
my hand when she saw me.

“Okay, Jon, time to talk. You followed me to Marge’s
and then I saw you staring in through the side window.
The window was open and I heard you say, ‘Oh, shit’.
Did you step in some dog crap? That’s where they let
their dogs do their business.”

“Now I come home and you smell my dirty underwear. If I
didn’t know any better, I’d think that you don’t trust
me. Do you think I’m cheating on you, Jon?”

“I don’t know, Ann, I have this gut feeling. I’ve had
it all day.” I replied.

“Come over here, Honey, and let’s talk.”

“Were you reading erotic stories on your lunch hour at
work again,” she asked.

I nodded, “Yes”.

“Were the stories you were reading, ‘Cheating Wives’
stories,” she asked.

“Yes,” I replied.

Then she asked, “Did you think about me while reading
these stories?”

“Of course I did,” I replied. “Then I came home and you
were on the phone, and you said. ‘Gotta go’ and hung
up.”

She looked at me and smiled. “I don’t know whether to
be mad at you or just hug you,” she said.

I looked at her and said, “Please don’t lie to me, who
were you talking to when I came in?”

“Your mother,” she replied. “She calls me most everyday
as you know.”

“Jon, have I ever done anything at anytime for you to
be suspicious of me and not trust me.”

‘No,” I replied. “It was just my gut feeling.”

“Honey,” Ann spoke, “You’re a trip. If I didn’t love
you so much I’d be mad. You are my man regardless of
how weird you are. I love you with all my heart even if
I don’t say it regularly. Maybe we don’t make love
often enough, but we can remedy that.”

Then she took me by the hand and walked me into the
bedroom, locked the door, dimmed the lights and then
started undressing me.

I lay on the bed and watched her strip. When she was
naked she climbed up on top of me and inserted my hard
cock into her pussy. God, it felt good. She rode me
like a bJonco horse. I couldn’t hold back any longer as
I shot a load deep into her pussy. Then I heard her
squeal and press down on my cock.

She got off me, smiled and kissed me. “Do you feel
better now?” she asked.

“Ann,” I replied, “you’re the greatest, but what
about my gut?”

She smiled and started laughing, then said, “Take two
Rolaids honey, you have indigestion.”

Then she looked at me and said, “Honey, stop smelling
my dirty underwear. That’s nasty.”


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