No Secrets
My wife Carrie is not the type of woman to end up with a guy like me. I consider myself to be fairly handsome, but as I already mentioned, I'm clueless and even a bit awkward around women. I feel a little nervous any time I have to talk to a woman, which makes it hard for me to communicate with them. But somehow I ended up with a gorgeous, intelligent, and talented wife.
I think it must be because we were best friends since second grade. She moved into the neighborhood one day, spotted me playing outside, and decided then and there that I was the man she would marry one day. And when Carrie decides she wants something, she gets it.
One of the reasons why I feel so comfortable around her is because I never really thought of her as just a woman. Growing up, she was a good friend, nothing more than a girl that I could hang around with after school and during the summer. Sure, we played the "I'll show you mine if you show me yours" game a couple of times, but we were too young for it to be anything more than idle curiosity about the difference between boys and girls. When we were ten, we shared our first kiss, then promptly forgot about it because it wasn't as fun as playing tag or climbing trees or throwing around a softball. Later, when we grew old enough to start thinking about the opposite sex, we were so comfortable with each other that we never thought of each other as anything more than platonic friends, although she had already told me years before that one day we were going to get married, and I just assumed that that was true.
We never had an official first date because we spent so much time together anyway that our dates just grew out of our playtime. I never really thought of it as romantic until I was about sixteen and her older brother Seth decided to have a talk with me about my intentions toward his sister. He didn't really like me back then, probably because he was a little overprotective of Carrie.
Ironically, the "interview" started me thinking about her as more than just a friend. Until then, marriage had seemed like an eternity away, something that would happen to us much later in life. For now, we were just friends who had no real commitment to each other but happened to enjoy spending time together. Once Seth started me thinking that there could be more to our relationship though, I began to look at Carrie in a new light.
I can't claim to know what was going through her head at the time, but I do know that as soon as I was ready for the second kiss of my life, she was more than willing to accommodate me.
From that point forward, we were officially boyfriend and girlfriend. It just seemed like the natural progression from our childhood friendship, and it came as a shock to no one. It was as if everyone already knew that we were a couple, and we were simply the last ones to find out.
Being a typical horny teenage boy, I was always thinking about sex, and of course my thoughts immediately turned to Carrie. But she was a good girl, and aside from a little groping in the back seat of my parents' car a couple of times, she was completely chaste. We had both been raised in religious families with strong morals, and although I was perfectly willing to cheat a little on those morals, she insisted that she would not go all the way until her wedding night.
I took her up on the offer. Two months after we graduated from high school, we got married. I'll be the first to admit that at the time I wasn't thinking with my head, at least not with the one on top of my shoulders. I suppose I was in love with her, but mostly I was just eager to get her into bed.
Then a miracle happened. Despite the fact that we didn't know what we were doing, despite the fact that I had married her mainly so that I could finally lose my virginity, our marriage lasted and we stayed together.
It wasn't easy. Affording college and having time to study was difficult, especially when Carrie got pregnant and gave birth at nineteen to a beautiful baby girl. But she loved the experience, and insisted that she get pregnant again as soon as it was practical. Two years later she had a second daughter, and two years after that, a third. I was a little disappointed because I had hoped for a son that I could throw around a football with or take to baseball games or roughhouse with like I couldn't do with my little girls, but my daughters were all so adorable that I really had nothing to complain about. Carrie was the love of my life, but Amber, Linda, and Chelsea came in a close second.
Our sex life would normally be categorized as "none of your business," but because of the nature of this tale, it's pointless to try to hide anything. Carrie and I enjoyed teasing and pleasing each other, and foreplay sometimes went on for hours. We experimented with various positions, but because we had always been a cuddly family, we usually went back to the traditional missionary position, with Carrie on top riding me as our second favorite.
If there was one thing lacking, it was fantasy. You would think that a published author would come up with all kinds of fun role-plays, but Carrie and I never spoke of our sexual fantasies, and therefore we never role-played.
For my part, that was probably due to shame or embarrassment. From what I understand, my fascination with incest is not uncommon, but I was also raised in a traditional conservative home, and naughty thoughts like that were never to be mentioned. That reluctance carried over into my married life, so I kept my "shameful" secrets to myself, even in the bedroom.
I had no way of knowing if Carrie had a similar reluctance to share her fantasies, but she seemed content to leave role-playing out of our sex life, and we never really felt it was a big loss. We loved each other, and that was enough.
I was a happy man. I was in love with the perfect woman, and I had three daughters who adored me. As an author, I worked from home and set my own hours. I was successful enough to afford a decent house with nice furnishings, with plenty of time off for vacations in the summer. I was completely devoted to my family, and I would do anything for them.
That was why it was so devastating when I began to suspect that Carrie was having an affair.
It was the classic scenario. A thirty-something woman loves her husband but there's something lacking in the bedroom. In our case, it was fantasy. At thirty-five, Carrie was absolutely gorgeous, the type of woman who just kept looking better with age, the type of woman that any man would jump at the opportunity to have an affair with. She was the complete package. Even after bearing three children, Carrie had a knockout figure. Her brown hair was stunningly gorgeous no matter how she wore it; even just after she stepped out of the shower as it hung limply about her shoulders, it was beautiful. She had the most gorgeous, deep blue eyes that always seemed to hold a smile even when she frowned. Speaking of frowns, her lips were just the perfect size; not too big and not too small. Carrie wore only the lightest trace of makeup because she didn't need it. There was a certain natural beauty about her face that could never be duplicated even through multiple layers of cosmetics on other women. She turned heads wherever she went, and I loved to walk beside her holding her hand to show off that she was all mine.
At least, that was what I believed, right up until the day that she returned from vacation with our daughter Chelsea.
I know I had no right to complain, considering what I had been doing with our other two daughters. Once they had seduced me, I was lost. I might not have shared in any of the blame the first night, but it didn't take a bunch of scarves and fishermen's knots for my girls to get me in bed the other nights. In fact, we didn't miss a night until Carrie and Chelsea came home. I was addicted to sex with my daughters, and they were addicted to sex with their dad.
Unfortunately, Carrie's return threatened to put an end to those activities. I had mixed feelings as I watched her walk up the sidewalk to the front door with Chelsea right behind. I was happy to see her, of course; even with my girls to keep me company I still missed her. Mixed with the joy, however, was a touch of regret at not being able to get intimate with Amber and Linda anymore, though we had spent some time the previous day plotting ways to get Carrie and Chelsea out of the house on occasion so that we could have fun. Surprisingly, I also felt relief. Even if I never got together with Amber and Linda anymore, it would just mean no more blows to my conscience. I could resume normal sexual relations with my wife, without having to worry about it being immoral or wrong. I half wished that that would happen, that Amber and Linda would grow out of this stage.
As soon as Carrie reached the front door, I wrapped my arms around her and gave her a big kiss. I wondered what Amber and Linda thought about that; would they be jealous, or would they accept it as just a normal occurrence like they were used to before everything changed?
Chelsea, at least, wasn't willing to let her mother get all of my attention. As soon as Carrie and I parted, my youngest daughter leaped into my arms. For a girl on the verge of becoming a teenager, she could certainly act like a child when she wanted. Perhaps she knew she could get away with it because she was the baby of the family. And of course, she knew she had her father wrapped around her little finger. The whole family was cuddly, but Chelsea took it to the extreme. She was a daddy's girl, and wouldn't let me forget it.
Like her sister Linda, Chelsea had dark brown hair, but while Linda's was straight, Chelsea's was curly. For some reason she hated those curls, but I thought she looked adorable. Chelsea had great big brown eyes that always seemed so full of childlike wonder at the world around her.
I held her for a few seconds, then set her down gently, spending almost thirty seconds laughing and trying to pry her arms from around my neck. Chelsea's signature move was what we jokingly referred to as a crocodile hug, because once she got hold of you, she never let go. I finally managed to free myself from her grasp, then she skipped into the front room to give similar crocodile hugs to her big sisters. Linda, of course, wasn't content to just get away; she had to turn the whole thing into a wrestling match, and we watched in amusement as the girls engaged in playful combat. Chelsea finally got bored and separated from her big sister.
"So how was your vacation?" I asked Carrie.
Surprisingly, she didn't answer right away. I glanced at her and for a moment thought I saw a look of worry on her face. Then that moment passed, and she smiled. I wondered about that look, but figured that with how clueless I was, I would probably never figure out what it meant. "We had a lot of fun, didn't we, Chelsea?"
"We sure did," Chelsea replied. "We ate out every night, and went to movies, and swam in the hotel pool, and went shopping, and Mom bought me a couple of new dresses that you'll have to see."
"I look forward to it," I smiled.
"I'll go unpack the car," said Carrie, turning toward the door.
"Oh no you won't," I insisted. "You've had a long drive, and I'm sure you're exhausted. You go sit down on the couch and let me handle the luggage."
"I love you," Carrie said with a smile, then gave me another peck on the lips.
I spent the next fifteen minutes bringing Carrie's and Chelsea's suitcases into the house. Carrie had never learned the art of packing light, and she was a horrible influence on our daughters. I could fit a week's worth of clothes into a small duffel bag, but sometimes it seemed that Carrie had to pack at least one suitcase per outfit. Not that I minded, of course. Unpacking the car gave me time to think. Specifically, I thought about that momentary expression I had seen on my wife's face. Despite my cluelessness around women, I had been married to her long enough that I could usually tell when something was bothering her. It had seemed like she wanted to tell me something, but then decided against it. That meant something had probably gone wrong. Unfortunately, identifying that look as a sign of trouble was as far as my perceptiveness went. I had no idea how big or small that trouble was. Maybe she had been involved in a minor fender bender. Maybe something more significant had happened. At any rate, I figured she would get around to telling me eventually, and likely trying to coax it out of her would be futile.
I also worried a little about Amber and Linda. They were too smart to come right out and confess what they had done with me, but they tended to go a little overboard when they got excited and I worried that they might let something slip in a fit of teasing.
In fact, I needn't have worried. They did get a little excited as they had Chelsea tell them all about the vacation, but they remained discreet about our own adventures. The closest call we had was at dinner. I had grilled some steaks on the backyard barbecue so that Carrie could rest instead of cooking supper, and during the middle of the lively discussion at the table, Linda said in her most flirtatious voice, "Daddycums, would you pass me the steak sauce?"
Somehow, amazingly, I kept from turning beet red. I handed the condiment to her without giving anything away, hoping that no one had picked up on the nickname. Unfortunately, I heard Chelsea giggle and I knew there was no taking it back now. Chelsea confirmed it a moment later when she asked in a similar tone of voice, "Daddycums, would you pass me the peas?"
I wanted to groan, but with a Herculean feat of willpower, managed to avoid it. All three of my daughters, however, burst out in a fit of giggles.
That ended all hope of preventing the nickname from sticking. Chelsea, of course, had no clue as to the true meaning of it; she just thought it was a cute and funny pet name for her father. That didn't stop her from using it, though. Throughout the entire meal, I was assaulted by an endless barrage of "Daddycums, would you pass me this?" "Daddycums, would you pass me that?" Daddycums just wanted to get through the meal and go hide in the cave downstairs.
I glanced at Carrie several times during dinner, noticing that she wore an amused look on her face. That gave me at least some comfort; she didn't suspect a thing.
Unfortunately, even after dinner the girls wouldn't let me escape to my lair. They grabbed me by the hand and dragged me into the living room, where they sat me down on the couch and claimed spots next to me, and in Chelsea's case, on my lap. I suppose I could have made up some excuse about needing to work on my novel and insisted that they let me get back to work, but truthfully, despite the embarrassment I was enjoying myself too much. Here I was, the center of attention for my three beautiful young daughters, all of whom were so very nice to cuddle with. Chelsea curled up against my chest like she had always loved to do. I knew she was getting a little too old to be that affectionate with her father, but I really didn't have the heart to tell her to stop. As long as she wanted to be my little girl, I would be happy to oblige her.
Carrie took a seat nearby, still with that amused expression on her face at our daughters' attentions toward me. "I wonder what's gotten into the girls?" she asked aloud.
"Chelsea's probably been missing me and wants to make up for lost time," I remarked, "and she's being a bad influence on her big sisters."
"All those times we've been a bad influence on her, it's her turn now," Amber grinned.
"I'm sure Daddycums doesn't mind the attention," said Linda.
I shrugged. "Oh, I don't mind. After a long day alone in my den, it's kind of nice to spend time with my girls." I tried to sound casual, trying not to reveal just how nice it felt. Not that I would do anything with Linda and Amber right there, of course. Not in the presence of Carrie, who would probably kill me if she caught me in the act. And definitely not in front of Chelsea, who was far too young to be exposed to that sight.
Even without a sexual component to the activities, I still enjoyed just sitting there and cuddling with my daughters. It was hard not to feel a warm and fulfilling peace with my little girl curled up on my lap with her head resting against my chest as I held her there in a loving embrace, especially when my other daughters lay their heads down on my shoulders. When I glanced at Carrie to see if I could determine her attitude toward our daughters' sudden affectionate gestures toward their father, I noticed that she had that same distracted look on her face that she had before, and I wondered what was going through her mind. Had something happened during the vacation?
If it were important, I figured, she would tell me; I wouldn't push her. Let her have her secrets. I had plenty of my own, after all, and mine were sure to be far worse than hers. I hated keeping things from her, but how could I tell her that I had been having sexual relations with our own daughters?
With both of us distracted by our thoughts, we didn't talk much later that night as we got ready for bed. Usually after a separation of several days like that, we were both eager for some hot sex, but Carrie didn't seem in the mood, and in fact neither was I. It felt hypocritical to expect her to please me when I had been unfaithful to her, and that guilt spoiled the mood for me. Instead, we just climbed into bed, gave each other a quick good-night kiss, then turned off the light.
Naturally I found it hard to sleep, and as I lay there awake staring up at a darkened ceiling, I wondered if Carrie was lying there doing the same. Whatever bothered her, was it enough to keep her awake like me? Or was my guilt-laden imagination playing tricks on me? Maybe she had no secret after all. Maybe her distracted look and unwillingness to engage in a little bedtime hanky-panky could simply be explained by physical exhaustion. A long drive home could do that to a person; after a road trip I always needed a long rest.
Although I still had my own guilt haunting me, that thought calmed me. Yes, my wife probably just needed a good night's sleep, and tomorrow she would be back to her usual cheery self. Taking comfort in that belief, I shut my eyes, and after a long time, even managed to fall asleep myself.
Some time during the middle of the night, I awoke to find my wife sitting at the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. I reached up and put a loving hand on her shoulder, noticing immediately how tense she felt. I recognized that tenseness; I had felt the same way the night I realized my daughters might not be as wholesome as I had thought.
"Honey, what's wrong?" I asked gently.
"I can't sleep," she replied.
"Is everything okay? Did something happen during the vacation?"
"Please, I can't talk about it right now," she said. That surprised me; usually Carrie came to me with all her problems, big or small. In fact, she was sometimes more willing to talk about them than I was willing to listen.
I let my hand gently massage her shoulder. "It's okay," I said. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. But if you do, I'm here for you. You know that, right?"
"I know, and I appreciate it. You're a good man. Sometimes I don't think I deserve you."
"What kind of talk is that?" I asked. "If anything, you deserve far better than me. I consider myself the luckiest man in the world to be married to you."
Carrie sighed, then lay back down in the bed and curled up next to me. I wrapped my arm around her and held her to me.
"Get some sleep," I told her. "Everything seems a lot worse when you're tired, but I promise you, if you get a good night's sleep, it will all feel a lot better in the morning."
"I don't know about that," she said. "But you're right; I shouldn't stay awake all night worrying about something I can't change. I love you. I really mean that. Promise me that no matter what happens, you'll always love me too."
"Of course I'll always love you. There's no reason whatsoever to doubt that."
"I know. I just need to hear you say it sometimes. Good night."
"Good night."
I should have taken my own advice. I should have just gone to sleep myself. But the conversation had unnerved me. I might have been blowing it way out of proportion, but it sounded like Carrie was worried about something that made her doubt my love for her. For an instant I felt a surge of panic as I suspected that she had somehow found out about what I had been doing with Amber and Linda, but that disappeared as I remembered something she had said. "Sometimes I don't think I deserve you." Whatever was bothering her, she wasn't blaming me for anything.
I figured I was probably completely wrong, but I could come up with only one conclusion. Carrie doubted herself. There was something wrong with her that made her worry that my love for her was not strong enough to get past it.
Had she discovered she had a fatal illness? No, that could only be true if she had gone to the hospital at some point during the vacation, and a detail like that wouldn't have gone unnoticed by Chelsea, who had had plenty of time to mention it. Granted, Chelsea probably hadn't been with her mother every second, but...
For the second time in two weeks, I felt a chill run down my spine. Chelsea had been happy and energetic from the moment she arrived home, which meant that whatever was bothering Carrie wasn't bothering Chelsea. Whatever had happened, it must have happened when she wasn't around. Carrie had gotten into some kind of trouble, and her daughter knew nothing about it. I could only imagine one possibility, no matter how much I tried to deny it. My wife had had an affair.
I didn't get much sleep that night. I felt hurt and betrayed, but worse than that, I felt like a hypocrite for being mad at her. After all, hadn't I done far worse? How could I condemn her when the greater sin was mine?
One thing gave me hope. She still loved me. She had said so herself. That meant that whatever had happened during the vacation, it was just a one-time fling and she had no intention of leaving me for another man. As long as Carrie was willing to stay by my side, I could find some way to get through this. Perhaps I deserved what she had done to me; it would be a fitting punishment for my actions. And in that sense, it was almost a relief to believe that she had done unto me what I had done unto her. It meant I was not the only one in the wrong, and sharing blame was at least sharing something. Although I still felt hurt, if I could find it in my heart to forgive her, perhaps she could forgive me too.
The first step, though, was confirming my suspicions, and that meant a confrontation. I certainly didn't look forward to that discussion, but I knew it had to be done. Unfortunately, finding the right time was the hardest part.
For several days I looked for an opportunity. Something always seemed to get in the way, however. Amber's and Linda's more affectionate attitude toward me meant they wanted to spend as much time with me as possible, so when I wasn't down in my den writing, one or both of them always seemed to find an excuse to grab my attention. Chelsea, possibly a little jealous of that attention I was paying her big sisters, insisted on taking her share, so between the three of them I rarely had a moment's peace.
Several times when I found myself alone, Carrie approached me as if she wanted to say something, then shied away at the last second. I couldn't blame her; I wanted desperately to talk to her too, but was afraid to start the conversation. And then the moment would pass, and one of our daughters would interrupt us.
Even alone in our bedroom at night, we hardly said a word to one another. Perhaps we both knew that once we started talking, it would lead to the conversation that we both wanted but feared. I could feel a wall of tension building between us, but though I hated it, I was afraid to make the first move to tear it down.
After nearly a week of drifting gradually apart, I finally made up my mind to do something about it. I would not let another day go by without confronting Carrie and revealing both our secrets. It would be painful, but it had to be done.
As if my resolve had conspired with fate, the opportunity finally arrived that afternoon. For the first time in days, Linda and Chelsea both managed to find something to do in their respective bedrooms at the same time. With Amber at work, that left Carrie and me alone with the privacy we needed. I dreaded this conversation as much as I dreaded the conversation with my girls two weeks ago. No matter how much I wished all of this would just go away, though, I had to get things out in the open. Carrie deserved to know my secret, and I needed to know hers.
I entered the bedroom, and found Carrie sitting on the edge of the bed, a worried expression on her face. How long she had been sitting there, I don't know, but there was no denying that something was bothering her. She didn't move as I sat down beside her, then when I wrapped an arm around her, she lay her head on my shoulder.
"Carrie," I said, "I think it's time for confessions."
She nodded, staring at the floor. That small gesture, though in one sense completely innocent, stung me. If she had been surprised at my announcement, it might have shown that she had nothing to confess. But the very fact that she accepted it without questioning meant that it came as no shock to her. I had held onto a tiny bit of hope that my suspicions were wrong, but that gesture quenched even that trace of hope.
Still, I would do anything in my power to salvage this marriage. I hated this mystery man that had come between Carrie and me; I was furious at him and furious at her, but if I could still save us by forgiving them, then I was willing to make that sacrifice. And if saving our marriage required giving up sex with my daughters, I was willing to make that sacrifice as well. They might be disappointed when I told them, but they were smart girls; they would understand that it was necessary to save our family.
"Before we begin," I continued, "I want us both to understand something. We are here to make things right. I'm scared of what's happened between us lately, and I want things back the way they were. If that means we have to confess things and forgive each other, then I'm willing to make the effort."
"So am I," she said.
"Then am I right in thinking you have something you need to tell me?"
She nodded again.
"So do I," I told her. "Carrie, I--"
"Wait," she said. "Please let me go first. I've been trying for days to build up the courage to tell you this, and I think now is the right time. But if I wait any longer, I think I'll lose the courage."
"Okay," I smiled. "Go ahead."
"You've probably guessed by now from the way I've been acting," she began, "that something happened during Chelsea's and my vacation."
I nodded; so far this was just what I had expected.
"The truth is, we weren't alone," she continued, confirming my fears. "I made arrangements with my sister to meet us there."
That surprised me; I had expected her to say she met a man there and had an affair with him. Why should I mind if her sister came along on her vacation? Her sister Molly was another beauty, two years younger than Carrie, divorced with no children.
"Molly and I... we... we spent some time together. Chelsea doesn't know about it; we let her run around by herself a lot of the time. She liked to go swimming in the hotel pool, which left Molly and me alone to get into trouble. And... we did."
So it was what I expected after all. Carrie and Molly had picked up a couple of guys at the bar or something, then taken them back to the hotel room.
"Carrie," I said, "I admit that this really hurts."
"I know," she said. "I'm so sorry. I wish I had never done it."
"It's going to take me some time to get over this," I told her, "but I know one thing. We were meant for each other. I'm not going to let this get in the way of our happiness."
"So you forgive me?"
I sighed. "I'm in the process of forgiving you. Like I said, it's going to take some time."
"I understand. You're being very understanding, perhaps more understanding than I deserve."
"Just answer me one thing," I said. "Who was he?"
"Who was who?" asked Carrie.
"The man that you... well..."
"What man?"
"The guy you had an affair with."
Carrie's eyes opened wide with shock. "Is that what you think?" she asked.
"What? But if we're not talking about an affair..."
"No, you have it all wrong. When I said that Molly and I got in trouble, I meant... with each other."
I stared at her for a second, trying to figure out what she meant by that. Then it hit me. "You had an affair... with your own sister?" I asked, astonished.
Carrie nodded. "Look, there's more to this than what I've just said. I secretly invited Molly along because I needed to talk to her. To confide in her. It's just that... well, the talking turned to something a little more intimate.
"But that's not when it started. Since I've already confessed this much, I might as well tell you the whole thing. When we first got married, I wasn't as chaste as you thought."
"What?" I asked. "But... you were a virgin. I was there, and I'm quite certain--"
"Yes, I was technically still a virgin. But that doesn't mean it was my first sexual experience. When we were teenagers, Molly and Seth and I used to fool around. It never went as far as intercourse; mostly we just fondled and groped each other. We gave each other orgasms with our hands. You know how Seth never really liked you back then? It was because he was jealous. When you married me though, he finally realized that you were good for me, so he was willing to give me up.
"But the problem is, I miss those days. I always tried to be the good girl, but I've got so much... I don't know... let's call it naughtiness... bundled up inside me that I need to let out. I love you, I love having sex with you, but we never really get naughty, if you know what I mean.
"So that's why I called Molly. I needed someone to give me advice about my unnatural desires, but once we started talking..."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. This confession of hers not only put my mind at ease, it actually sounded like an opportunity. The thought of my wife having an affair with another man sickened me, as hypocritical as that was, but after seeing my daughters engaged in that kind of lesbian lust, I felt nothing but a sexual thrill at the thought of her with another woman, especially her own sister. And now that I knew she fantasized about incest, suddenly my own indiscretions didn't seem so bad. I still had to confess, but most of that weight was already gone.
"Please," she told me. "I have to know what you're feeling. Can you ever forgive me for being unfaithful to you?"
"I forgive you," I said, taking her hands in mind and giving her a loving smile.
Her eyes widened in surprise. "Really?" she asked. "Just like that?"
"Yes, just like that," I replied. "I want there to be no secrets between us, which means I have my own confession to make. And when I do, you'll understand why I can forgive you so quickly. On second thought, I won't explain; I'll show you."
I rose from the bed and helped her up as well. Hand in hand, we descended the stairs down into the basement. I brought her into my den, where I had her sit down in front of my computer.
"What--?" she began.
"You'll see," I told her, then turned on the computer. After waiting for it to boot, I immediately went to the Internet and browsed to one of the sites where I had uploaded my naughty stories. I typed in my user name and password.
"You see the login ID I used?" I asked her.
"Daddycums," she said. "Isn't that what the girls have been calling you lately?"
"Exactly. They happened to discover my secret identity, but that's a discussion for a different time." I had planned to confess my online activities first to ease her into the bigger confession about my affair with my daughters, and this little hint would force the issue later if I lost my nerve or my resolve. There was no going back now.
As soon as the welcome screen appeared, I selected the "Your Stories" button. The list of all my naughty stories appeared, exposed to my wife's eyes for the first time.
"You wrote these?" she asked.
"Yes I did. Now, I'm going to leave you alone for a while. Part of my confession is giving you the opportunity to choose how to respond. Notice I'm leaving you logged into my account. That gives you the power to delete any or all of my stories, or even have my account closed. I have accounts on other sites too, and if you want, I'll give you the same opportunity for the others. From now on, that's the way it's going to be. If you have a problem with anything I've written, go ahead and delete it. I won't keep secrets from you anymore."
"I don't understand," she said.
"Read a couple of my stories. Then you will."
Carrie nodded, and I left her there to do as she wished. I walked up the stairs and plopped down on the couch, both nervous and relieved. My greatest fear had been alleviated and my second greatest looked like it had the potential to do the same, but there were still plenty of things to worry about. I wondered just how my wife would take this discovery.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.