She was a free lance consultant who took only one job after we were married, then stopped working completely. Once confronted, she gave an age-old excuse: 'You're never home, and I get lonely.'
I don't know when she started cheating, but eventually she started fucking the contractor who put in our new bathroom. Ours was an all too familiar story: I was the sole breadwinner, working long hours in sales to support the fixer-upper home we bought, and to provide a good standard of living for us. The divorce actually came four years later, not because of any attempts at reconciliation, but because we were both getting on with our lives and were lax about it. It was in the summer of 2004, a few months after my separation and bifurcation of assets from my cheating ex-wife of thirteen years. I have made no embellishments to make it a more exciting read. This is the true recounting of the first time a man's cock ever touched the inside of my mouth, with as much detail and in-the-moment sexual chronology as I can remember twelve years later.
