The Letter - Sex Stories

The Letter

I pulled onto the driveway and rummaged for my house keys. “Hmm, I wonder what’s for dinner,” I thought as my stomach growled. It had been a long day at the office and a none too pleasant one at that. The current spate of redundancies had us all on edge and the latest victims of the cutbacks had been given their marching orders that day. No-one was safe and I dreaded being next. Thank goodness work was done for another week. The weekend beckoned, time away from the constant stress, time at home with my gorgeous wife….and food. Opening my front door I sniffed the air. “Oh,” I grunted, disappointed. I was starving and was used to being welcomed home by the mouth-watering aromas of Jess’s cooking. She was a fabulous cook, it rated highly amongst her many talents, and the smell of her delicious homemade food usually greeted me the second I opened the door - not that night it seemed. The house smelled of furniture polish and disinfectant but nothing edible. “Jess? You there?” I peered into the kitchen. Nothing, she wasn’t home. That was strange. Jess worked part-time and was usually home long before me. Perhaps she’d taken on overtime? She’d had a lot lately and she never turned it down. Yes, that would be it. There’d probably be a message on my phone but as my stomach was protesting again I didn’t bother to check. My hunger needed to be satiated as a matter of priority. Tossing my jacket onto a breakfast bar stool, I yanked open the fridge and emerged with a sizable slice of ...

... quiche and a bottle of beer. That would do nicely. I plonked myself down at the kitchen table and began eating. That’s when my eyes fell upon the envelope sitting on the counter beside the toaster. It was a letter; hand-written, no stamp or postmarks. Ah-ha! I snatched it up thinking it was a note from Jess explaining why she was late but one glance at the writing on the plain white envelope made my heart sink. The letter was written in Jess’s untidy scrawl all right but it was addressed to “Robert”. That was bad. Jess hated the name Robert. The only time she used it was when she was pissed off with me. Crap! Why was she annoyed with me? What had I done? I loved my wife and during five years of marriage we’d never fallen out, not seriously anyway. So what was this about? Only one way to find out…taking a deep breath, I ripped the envelope open and extracted a single sheet of paper, neatly folded. As I opened it out something clattered to the floor and bounced off under a chair. It was a memory stick. “What the…?” The letter was written in Jess’s distinctive, messy handwriting but it was scruffier than usual. It had obviously been written in haste. Not a good sign. Biting my lip I began reading. “Dear Robert, I love you. I always have and always will, but sometimes my dear you really fucking piss me off…” What? What did that say? I read her opening line again to make sure I wasn’t seeing things. No, my beautiful, sweet wife really had written that I pissed her off. Damn! A wave of ...