MY WIFE AND THE NO-GOOD LYING SCUMBAG

CHAPTER 1

My wife Jennie and I had always enjoyed a fantastic sex life, beginning when we first met during our senior year of high school. If anything, she was more aggressive and much hornier than I was. She was tall—almost five feet ten inches—and slender with fantastic symmetrical C-cup breasts and a tight muscular ass to die for. She reminded me of the swimsuit models in Sports Illustrated and I wasn’t the only boy in high school who thought that. Jennie was Homecoming Queen and voted most popular yet I was the only senior she ever dated—what incredible luck. I thought I was the luckiest guy in the world when she agreed to go steady with me. I had always considered myself ordinary—six feet, 170 pounds with unruly light brown hair and pale blue eyes in contrast to her natural blond hair and sparkling green eyes.

I was thrilled when she agreed to attend the same university as me. My parents weren’t rich; I had to attend a state school. It was good, but it wasn’t Harvard or Yale or even Williams or Amherst. It was just SUNY—the State University of New York at Albany, reputedly the best of the state universities in New York.

Jennie’s parents weren’t rich either, but they had more money than mine. They had two cars to our one and they got a new one every three years. Ours had to last for at least six before Dad would even think of replacing it.

Jennie had new clothes several times a year. I wore mine until they didn’t fit then they went to my younger cousin or to Goodwill. In spite of the differences in our socio-economic status she loved me and I her. Her love made me determined to work harder to become successful. I toiled like crazy throughout our college careers, working nights as a watchman—a job that enabled me to study between tours of the factory—while attending full-time. Most days I got by on four or five hours sleep, but it prepared me well for the rigors of work after graduation.

I earned a degree in accounting and asked Jennie to marry me on our graduation day. She accepted immediately. Even our parents agreed that we were made for each other. Like most young couples we struggled at first, living in a tiny studio apartment and eating cheap liverwurst and bologna sandwiches because we couldn’t afford anything better. Those years of hardship and denial forged the bond between us, making us stronger as individuals and a team.

We made love almost every night when I wasn’t in graduate school for my MBA. Even then we managed a quickie before falling asleep naked in each other’s arms. Jennie was often the initiator and I doubted there was anything she wouldn’t try. She loved it all.

Jennie had worked in retail sales. The money wasn’t great, but it was a help until I had earned my MBA and began my climb up the corporate ladder. After five years with the firm I got my first really big promotion and my first really big raise, almost doubling my salary. Jennie was able to quit her job. If anything we made love even more often. She wasn’t tired as often and she wasn’t on her feet all day, either. I thought everything was great. We even talked about starting a family.

Then about three months ago everything changed. I remember the Thursday night like it was yesterday. I walked in after a long day at work anticipating that Jennie would strip my clothes from my body and rape me the way she did virtually every day, fucking me until neither of us could stand. That was why we always had dinner late—we needed time to recover before eating and another wild session in bed before retiring for the night.

Instead, I went to hug Jenny and she turned away. “I’m sorry Tim, but I have a terrible headache. You don’t mind if we take a day off, do you? I promise I’ll make it up to you tomorrow night.”

What could I say? I accepted her comment, expressing concern for her well-being. “Are you up to cooking? Want to go out for a pizza or maybe bring in Chinese?”

“Oh, Tim—you’re so good to me. Thank you, darling. I’ll be okay with just a little rest.” I kissed her cheek and led her to the couch where I helped her to put her feet up and lie back, her head on one of the decorative pillows. She stayed there for an hour, eyes closed, before getting up to fix a simple dinner of burgers. She still seemed distant after dinner and I wondered if I had done something wrong—something to offend her. For the life of me I couldn’t think of anything. Our relationship was back to normal the following day. I put my concerns out of my mind.

But they returned the following Thursday when Jennie once again begged off, this time because of an upset stomach. The following Thursday she gave me another excuse. I was sure then that something was wrong.

The following week she had physical concerns on Tuesday and Thursday although we made love as usual on the other days. Tuesday and Thursday became regular days off from sex and there was always some new reason. I didn’t complain, but I knew I had to do something. Mostly, I knew I had to do it for Jennie.
I took an hour for lunch on Friday. I was entitled to an hour, but rarely took the full sixty minutes. Most days I worked at my desk, eating my sandwich and drinking my can of Pepsi while I toiled on my computer or reviewed some report. Instead of lunch I went shopping; it’s amazing what one can find in the Yellow Pages. The drive to the store took me about ten minutes—almost as long as it took me to reach my car in the parking lot. Surprisingly, I was approached by a clerk as soon as I entered the store. I explained what I wanted and why. The clerk showed me two options—one for $150 each and another for double the price. Both were tiny considering their capabilities. “What’s the difference, other than price?”

“Basically nothing, but don’t tell my boss I told you that. The expensive one is a ‘brand name’ in security; the other is our store brand.” Thanking him for his help I bought three of the cheaper models, paying cash I’d collected doing taxes for several private clients. I had planned to save the money for a vacation, but finding the truth seemed a more pressing priority at the time. It was just after one when I returned to the office. My supervisor asked if everything was okay. It was rare that I was away from work during the day.

Jennie and I made incredible love that evening as she rode me to three long and deep orgasms. She held me for several minutes after before rolling off, lying back on her pillow and falling asleep almost immediately. She was sound asleep, her breathing slow and measured when I got up. I did this all the time—chronic insomnia—so there was little reason for concern.

I donned a tee-shirt and a pair of running shorts before tip-toeing down the stairs to the garage. Using my laptop as a server the first device was connected to our home network fifteen minutes later then I installed it in the far corner of the roof over our front porch, exactly as the clerk had instructed me with the video going straight to a site where I’d established a free account. I could pull up the video at any time using my laptop or my phone. The camera was tiny with the lens nothing more than a short thin cable of optic fiber. The bulk of the mechanism was mounted on the outside just under one of the gutters with the lens aimed at the front door and the microphone located on the bottom of the tiny box. It was motion activated and should last with the existing batteries for at least two weeks—more than enough I thought.

Once it was set up I tested it, walking in front of the door then checking the site from my laptop. I was actually surprised at how well it worked. I’m hardly the handiest with tools and my experience with computers is limited to accounting software and programs like Excel, Word, and Power Point. Five minutes later the laptop was back in my briefcase and I was back in bed.

“Insomnia again, honey?”

“Yeah, I had a can of beer. That usually works.”

“I think you work too hard. You have too much stress.”

“You’re probably right. Good night, Jen—I love you.” She leaned over to kiss me then rolled over and went back to sleep. Yeah—stress—and guess who was the cause of that.

CHAPTER 2

I didn’t have to wait long to get results. The first video I watched was a group of Mormons. Jen appeared to be cordial, but sent them on their way in less than a minute. Later that day several Girl Scouts in uniform sold her a few boxes of cookies. I wiped them from the computer’s memory, looking forward to tomorrow—Tuesday.

Being Monday night I knew that we’d have mind-blowing sex once I was home. I stopped off at Wal-Mart to buy some toiletries, but stopped on the way out to buy some cookies from several Girl Scouts at a table by the entrance. I knew that Jen had just bought some, but I couldn’t show that I knew without giving away my secret. I opened the door, calling out my usual greeting, “I’m home, Jen.”

She appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, but what she was wearing wasn’t meant for cooking. Her flimsy black apron barely covered her large firm breasts. The hem of the skirt barely covered her pussy and totally exposed her ass. She wore nothing under the apron. “Hmmm…wonder what you’ve been cooking up.”

“I can tell you what’s warmed up…for you.” She leaned forward to expose her cleavage. Peeking down the apron’s skimpy top gave me an excellent view of Jen’s hard nipples. She walked to me, untying the apron as she did. I had barely dropped my briefcase to the floor when she was all over me. Her fingers almost tore the tie from my neck as I dropped my suit jacket to the chair. My shirt and tee fell to the floor as I pulled Jennie to me. I loved the sensation of her soft smooth skin against mine. I always had and I knew I always would. I just hated the idea that she might be sharing that sensation with another.

Jennie had her hands on my belt as we engaged in our first kiss of the evening. Her tongue came quickly into my mouth, wrestling fiercely as my slacks and boxers fell to the floor. Jennie broke the kiss then moved down quickly to help me out of my shoes, socks, and clothes. While she was down there she lifted my growing cock with her tongue. I watched in fascination as it disappeared into her mouth a second later. Jennie loved to suck my cock and, of course, I loved it, too. She sucked on me for several minutes until my knees were weak then I pulled out and lay on the floor right in front of the open picture window where anyone passing by could easily see her moving over my body.

Jennie moved to straddle my hips as I ran my cock head, oozing slippery pre-cum, into her slit. She was wet—she was always wet—as I pressed home. My cock was big, but not huge. I’d never measured it—that would be silly—but I thought it might be about seven inches long and it must have been pretty thick. Jennie’s small hand could barely reach around it. Somehow she always managed to fit her tight pussy around it and tonight was no exception.

Jennie leaned forward to kiss me and held the kiss even as her body rocked into mine. Jennie had what I thought was a big clit. I’d never had sex with another woman and I never wanted to, however I had watched plenty of porn so I had a good idea what an average clit looked like. Most of them looked kind of like a baked bean hidden under a fold of skin. Jennie’s looked like a tiny cock over her sensitive labia. She loved to rub it into me. I loved to stroke it like I was jerking her off. Either way, she always came explosively. Usually, she came more than once—three and four times most days. That was one of the reasons why I couldn’t understand that she’d cheat on me. I prayed I was wrong.

I wasn’t. My heart sank as the camera showed a man knocking on the front door just after one on Tuesday afternoon. He was obviously older and looked somehow familiar as Jennie greeted him with a kiss, ruining the rest of my work day and possibly ruining my life, too. They said nothing, but moved quickly into the house. The camera activated itself again around 4:30. I wasn’t pleased to see him adjusting his belt and pulling his zipper up as he exited our house. For the first time in my life I wasn’t eager to get home to my wife. Instead, I went to a bar, not so much to drink, but to think—how to get more on my cheating whore wife and her lover.
 
I trudged in about 6:30, more than forty-five minutes late, but I didn’t apologize nor did I ask for sex. I wasn’t surprised that Jennie didn’t offer it either. I was silent through dinner and after, too. “Are you okay, Tim?”

I was so tempted to let her have it, but I needed more information before I did. “Just some problems I had a work, Jen,” was my reply. “Sorry, but I’m not in the mood tonight.” She came around the table to kiss my cheek. I wanted to run to the bathroom and wash my face. I felt filthy.

“If you don’t mind, I have some shopping I’d like to get done. I won’t be long…probably less than an hour.” She kissed me again and grabbed her purse from the kitchen counter. She was out the door a minute later. I followed as soon as I saw her car drive down the street, walking to the garage to open my trunk. I removed the second camera. After signing on to the home network I headed to our bedroom. The problem was where to hide the small rectangular box that held the guts of the device. I looked around for a few minutes before finding the solution. It was so simple; it was right in front of my face.

Back to the garage I went, this time to my workbench. I found the two-sided carpet tape there and cut a piece about three inches long from the roll. Standing inside my closet I applied it carefully and tightly to the wall just above the right-hand side where the sliding door closed. I carefully pulled the protective paper from the tape and pressed the camera box into the sticky surface. The thin fiber optic lens fit nicely into a tiny space between the end of the track and the vertical side of the doorway opening. I had to twist the lens a bit to center on the bed, but I was done installing and testing more than ten minutes before Jennie returned. I was in the shower when she walked through the front door. I still had one more camera, but I wasn’t quite sure where to place it. Then I had an inspiration.

I had read a story online in which an FBI agent had found cameras and bugs in his home’s smoke alarms. I wondered if I could do that. I almost laughed as I thought of installing the device right in front of Jennie. I made a mental note to stop off at Home Depot on my way to work tomorrow morning.

CHAPTER 3

I spent most of my lunch hour on Wednesday removing the guts from a smoke alarm and replacing them with the camera’s battery, electronics, and transmitter. The job turned out to be even easier than I had thought once I had removed the works from the rectangular box. I installed it that night after some mediocre sex with my sweet wife.

“What are you doing, Tim, she asked as I brought the step-stool into the living room.

“I’m replacing our smoke alarm.”

“Why? Doesn’t that one work?”

“Sure, but I thought we should have one that detects carbon monoxide, especially with the fireplace right here in the living room. I read recently that there have been some deadly accidents, especially when the fire burns down. I want to be sure we’re safe.”

Jennie responded by coming up and kissing my cheek. “No wonder I love you so much.”

“Yeah, right,” I thought as I unscrewed the old and dumped it into the trash. Five minutes later I was able to test the picture in the living room. Rather than a continuous video I set it to take a picture every second when activated. There was no sound this way, but I thought I’d be lucky to get even a week’s activity because we used our living room a lot. Most of it would be useless, but I thought I might be able to get something worthwhile.

I was looking at Jennie’s friend walk into our house on the following Tuesday afternoon when I phoned a client. He was a cop—a detective–in nearby New York City. “Question, Steve—is it possible to find out someone’s identity from their license plate?”

“Are we talking about an accident?”

I debated whether or not to tell the truth. After hesitating a few seconds I did. “No, Steve—I think Jennie is screwing behind my back and I’d like to know who.”
“Technically, no, but I have a few friends at Central who owe me some favors. Get me the plate and I’ll find out who it is. Do I get anything out of this?”

“Yeah, I’ll be forever grateful and you’ll get your taxes done free this year. I’d do it longer, but there’s a limit to how much I can hide from my bosses.”

“You’ve got a deal. Truthfully, I’d do it for nothing. I hate cheaters.” We spoke for a few more minutes before I thanked him. It was another typical Tuesday evening with Jennie creating yet another excuse to avoid sex and me acting stupid, “blindly” accepting whatever she said.

I made an important decision on Wednesday. I would act tomorrow afternoon–Thursday. I had to—this whole mess was tearing me apart. Just before leaving for the day I advised my boss that I had an important doctor appointment with Jennie the following afternoon. Naturally, he agreed after inquiring about her health. I gave some vague answer about “woman problems” that he accepted as I walked out to my car.

Jennie greeted me with her usual enthusiasm. I feigned mine. She fucked me again on the living room carpet. I was somewhere else mentally throughout, even when I came into her hot tight cunt. I hated the idea that someone else was in there violating all that was sacred in our marriage. She kissed me then rose to finish the preparations for our dinner. I walked straight to the shower to wash her filth from my body. I remained silent throughout dinner in spite of Jennie’s repeated attempts at conversation. It was during dinner that I had an idea to bring this affair to a close even sooner than I hoped.

I ate breakfast with Jennie Thursday morning. My mood was lighter. I joked and laughed with Jennie, apologizing of my dark mood of last night. She kissed me good-bye with a smile and waved as I drove away. I smiled, too, knowing that I’d be back even sooner than she thought.

I worked through the morning, leaving at noon as arranged to go not to the doctor, but to Starbucks where I could use their free wi-fi. I waited until I saw the man ring our bell and Jennie receive him with her usual kiss. I thought again that I recognized him, but where? My laptop went to the car’s adjacent seat as I drove swiftly away. He had parked as I hoped with his car—a BMW 700 Series sedan– in the driveway, the front bumper almost up to the garage door. I pulled in behind him, my front bumper nudging his rear. He couldn’t remove his car until I removed mine unless he was willing to destroy it which would justify my calling the cops. I noted his license plate although I doubted I’d need it now.

Leaning against my front fender I opened the laptop and connected to the house’s network. I pulled up the video of them in the living room first. The series of pictures was clear as Jennie moved into a long embrace, but surprisingly, she was not smiling. She appeared reluctant, even as he led her up the stairs to the bedroom. I would have thought she would have led him—how interesting!

Walking quietly I slipped through the side door into the garage for my softball bat. I hadn’t played in a few years, but I thought it might come in handy now. From the garage I silently unlocked the door to the mud room and advanced to the bottom of the stairs undetected. I could hear scuffling upstairs and Jennie saying, “No…please not again…please.” I’d heard enough.

I practically leaped up the stairs and rushed into our bedroom. I grabbed the man’s hair and pulled him off my wife before he could penetrate her. I rammed the end of the bat into his gut and I would have taken it to his head had Jennie’s pleas not stopped me. “Tim! Don’t…he’ll have you fired!”

I looked at her in disbelief. Then it all fell together. I finally recognized my wife’s “lover.” He was Simon Alcott, a multi-millionaire client we’d met at a company dinner almost four months ago. He had seemed taken with Jennie that night, but I had dismissed his attentions as simply being enthusiastically polite. Apparently, his attentions were more serious than I had thought. I moved to the floor to kneel on his neck. I could have strangled him, but I didn’t. He was older and weaker than I was and I had almost a gallon of adrenalin racing through my arteries. “Tell me about it, Jennie. Tell me everything.”

She cried and gasped as the story began. “I was home here almost three months ago when he came to the door. I didn’t think anything about it because we had met him at your annual dinner. He seemed to be polite, but when he reached the living room he turned and pushed me down. He told me that he had invested millions with your firm and if I didn’t cooperate he’d make up some story about you to have you fired. He told me that he’d do it if I even said a word to you. I was terrified so I let him. No shower could make me clean enough after he left. I didn’t want you after he had forced me, Tim. I felt filthy. I’m so sorry.”

I wanted to hold my wife and comfort her, but I had more important work to do at the moment. I pulled Simon Alcott to his feet and, as I did, I kicked him in the balls not once, not even twice—I kicked him ten times, crushing his balls and causing him horrible pain. As bad as it was it couldn’t have been one-tenth—one-hundredth– what I had felt over the past months. He was still in agony on the floor when I turned again to Jennie. “Why did you kiss him? I saw you at the door and in the living room.”

She broke down completely. “He…he made me. He said…he said he wanted…to control me. He said he’d have you fired if I didn’t. I was terrified, Tim. I’ve been terrified for months. I hate him.”

“Well, Simon…what do you have to say for yourself? Couldn’t you find your own woman? You had to have mine? Well?”

“It wasn’t like that…honest! She came on to me. This was all her idea.”

“No, it wasn’t! I swear, Tim. He forced me. That’s why I didn’t want you after he was here. I was riddled with guilt and I felt so dirty.”

“She’s the one who started this with her flirting. She started it at the dinner and then she phoned me the following day to set up a date. We went to lunch and she said she wanted sex with me. That’s why I’m here.”

I knew now who was lying. “Unless I’m mistaken it’s almost impossible to phone you directly. I know I’ve tried more than a dozen times, but I could never get through. Even our CEO couldn’t contact you. He told me he always had to leave a message so you could call him back. So, explain to me how my wife who doesn’t even know the name of your company could phone you. Hmmm? You’re a lying fucking scumbag.” I kicked him in the ribs to make my point.

I left him lying on the floor as I rushed to console my wife. I’d never seen Jenny cry so hard, not even at her father’s funeral. She pushed her head to my chest as I held her closely. She cried for more than twenty minutes. I released her and walked to her rapist.

“I wonder how this would play with the cops. From what I know you forced my wife to have sex with you more than twenty times. Of course, you’d probably use your wealth to pervert the system or your lawyers would make my wife look like a total slut.” I couldn’t believe that he actually smiled. “That’s why I’m going to take care of you myself.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m going to give you a chance. Either you’ll tell me the truth or I’ll execute you myself. I’m just as smart as you are so I think I’ll be able to come up with a way to get away with it. How are your swimming skills? Wanna bet you’re not in my class? I’ll take you down to the beach and pull you into the water. You’ll be tied up and gagged, of course. It’s April—the beach is deserted and the water’s cold. I have a wet suit. You don’t. I could use my fins to take you out…say…four hundred…five hundred yards. By then you’ll have hypothermia. You wouldn’t even be able to struggle. I’ll untie you and you’ll be just another unfortunate drowning victim.”

“Okay…okay; I did it. I raped your wife. I forced her to do everything.”

“Kiss you?”

“Yes, I forced her to do that, too. Now, will you let me go?” I let him up and he staggered to the door. He was still bent over in pain as he stepped gingerly down the stairs to the front door.

He was just about to enter his BMW when he turned with a grin. “You’re not so smart, Healey. Now it’s just your word against mine.”

“Not quite, shithead.” I pulled my laptop from my car, booted it up. I logged on to the network and went straight to the site. Then I showed him the bedroom feed. His face and exposed cock were clear, but the sound was low. “I’ll bet that anyone who can read lips can tell exactly what you said. I’ll bet the cops could enhance the audio, too. Now—here’s some advice. Stay away from my wife. I have a gun and I’m giving it to her. I’ll take her to the range over the weekend and have her shoot maybe a hundred rounds, but maybe before that I’ll have a long talk with Robert about your business. I sure do hope he believes me because I’ll have to show him the video if he doesn’t. You may have fucked with my wife, but don’t even think of fucking with me.” I backed my car out of the driveway. He was gone in seconds. I pulled into the garage and returned to the house and Jennie.

“I’m extremely upset with you. You needed to trust me and you didn’t. Come here.” She was tentative, but I pulled her to me. There was shock in her eyes when I placed her over my knees. “You deserve to be punished. Are you going to take it like a big girl?”

“Yes…sir, I’m sorry. You’re right; I should have told you right away.” I pulled her slacks down to her ankles. Her panties followed. Jennie had tears in her eyes and I hadn’t even touched her. I spanked her twenty times, but not hard—not even hard enough to redden her skin—and when I was done I kissed each cheek once for each spank then I pulled her up to sit on my lap.

“Aren’t married people supposed to trust each other?”

“Y…yes,” she gasped.

“Are we going to have any more secrets from each other?”

“No…never.” I held her then for almost an hour before lifting her from my lap and carrying her to the bedroom. I’d never wanted her more than I did at that moment and, apparently she had never wanted me more either. I pulled her slacks and panties from her feet. Her blouse and bra I ripped from her body. She pulled herself up the bed, spreading her legs wide in invitation, while I calmly removed my tie, shirt, and other clothes. I could tell that she was ravenous for my cock. Not surprisingly, I was rock hard when my boxers, my final article of clothing, left my body.

I moved to Jennie, savoring the touch of her skin as our lips met. A torrent of love and emotion escaped with our kiss. How relieved I was to know that she had been coerced. I swore that I’d get revenge on this bastard somehow. I’d think about that later. Right now I needed to concentrate on making love—sweet delicious love—to my wife.

I went between her legs and she pulled me into her impatiently, wrapping her legs around my waist tightly. I entered her in a single thrust despite her tightness, stopping only when I had bottomed out against her cervix. We moved together slowly at first as she adjusted to my girth then the dam burst. Jennie went wild on my cock, twisting and turning while she pulled my cock into her deeply with every thrust of her hips. Jennie may have had her faults, but fucking certainly wasn’t one of them. She drove me absolutely crazy with her movements…just like every other day. Our love making today was special. We had almost lost each other, but now we were found in each other–body and soul.

I’d always had reasonably good orgasm control, mostly from fucking Jennie a minimum of once daily, but nothing could hold me back today. I came much too early, but somehow I doubted that Jennie would object given the circumstances. Semen gushed from my cock until it flowed over her abdomen with every out stroke. I was exhausted when I collapsed onto Jennie’s chest, both from our physical interactions and the emotional stress of dealing with her “cheating.”

Jennie held me tightly as though she’d never let me go.

Eventually, of course, she did. We made love again—slower this time—and the sun had set by the time we were done. We were both starving, but we hadn’t the energy to make it ourselves. We phoned out for Chinese, the food arriving about thirty minutes later. I answered the door clad only in a pair of running shorts, giving the delivery man $30 for a $22 order and closing the door immediately so he wouldn’t get a look at my naked wife. I set up the dinners on the coffee table as Jennie spread a big beach towel over the couch. She was still leaking badly and my cock was covered with a combination of her goo and mine. Jennie opened the containers while I retrieved two Cokes and a couple of forks. When I spilled some pepper steak sauce on my thigh Jennie considerately licked it off. Later she deliberately dropped some General Tso’s chicken on her left breast. She looked at me and pushed the breast in my direction. That was the only hint I needed. I licked her delicate sensitive tissue from top to bottom.

“I only spilled a little bit over here,” she told me as she pointed with her fork.

“I wanted to be sure I got all of it.”

“Hmmm…maybe you should do it again…you know, just to make sure.”

“I will, but later when I lick you from your toes to your lips. I’ll lick you until I can’t lick any longer.”

“I’ll gladly accept, but only if you concentrate on a few areas I’ll show you. In return I’ll be glad to lick you wherever you want.” Jennie looked into my eyes and it was over. I pulled her onto me as I fell back onto the couch. I was hungry, but not for food; her hunger matched mine. She was on me in a flash, dropping onto my suddenly swollen cock in a single swoop.

I would have thought that we hadn’t made love in a month, so hungry for each other were we. We kissed and groped and fucked with wild abandon until we couldn’t even move. Jennie was lying on my body, our fluids leaking onto my abdomen and thighs when she fell asleep. I realized then just how much strain she’d been under. Mine had been horrible, but I doubted I’d suffered even one percent as much as she did. I thanked God for saving us—for saving our love. Then I realized that something my dad had told me was true: God helps those who help themselves. I cursed myself for not acting sooner and sparing Jennie her despair and anguish.

Jennie woke up about an hour later. I joked that she’d probably wake up much earlier in the morning. “I hope so,” she replied with that same hungry twinkle in her eyes.

“I’m not Superman,” you know.”

“Yes, Tim, you are. You’re my Superman.” She pulled me up and we scampered to the shower. Almost half our dinner would be spoiled, but I didn’t care. I had my love back. We went straight to bed once we had made ourselves clean then Jennie insisted on making us dirty once again. I had no trouble getting hard enough to perform. Maybe I was Superman, after all. We slept exceedingly well that night.

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