Am I a bad person for cheating on my wife? I guess it depends on your perspective. Maybe if I tell you the story, you’ll have a little sympathy for this simple blue-collar guy. Some of you may even be a little jealous.
My wife, Margaret, and I have been married for eighteen years. That’s long enough for all social taboos to break down within a marriage, which means if you have to fart, you fart. It also means trading romance and lingerie for perfunctory sex and baggy pajamas.
All of which was fine by me. I love my wife and the comfort of our relationship, as does she. I enjoy every part of the routine of our daily life. After eight hours at the office, I come home, kick back in my chair, crack open a beer, and watch one of my TV shows. My wife works evenings so I have the house to myself until midnight and by that time I’m in bed snoring.
On Saturdays, my wife and I have a date night that usually ends up with both of us passed out drunk on the couch. Every now and then we have sex. On Sundays, I watch football or go fishing. In other words, we are living the dream.
My wife and I make pretty good money. We have a house in a gated community in South Florida with a big yard and a screened-in pool. The only thing bigger than my wallet is my beer gut. I’m kidding. I’m actually in pretty good shape for a man in his early forties who doesn't get much exercise. Probably because I have a full head of thick blonde hair while most men my age sport heads that look like cue balls.
About six months ago, my wife mentions that her niece, Lydia, is graduating from college.
“Great,” I said. “Send her a card and a C-note. Which one is she again?”
My wife rolled her eyes. “My brother Terry’s oldest daughter. You literally see her every Christmas.”
“I do my best to tune your family out during Christmas. Especially the kids.”
“Oh my god, you are such an old man.”
“Says the woman dressed in a muumuu at noon on a Saturday.”
My wife then explained that she mentioned Lydia’s graduation because Lydia was hoping to spend the summer with us before starting college.
“Why?” I asked, sipping on an ice-cold Miller Light.
“She lives in Ohio, Nick. You know, the land of dreary skies? I think she wants to enjoy the sunshine for a change.”
“I have an idea. How about, no.”
“Jesus, Nick, you are such a fucking curmudgeon. Anyway, it’s too late because I told her Lydia could stay with us. She’ll be here next week.”
I was livid. Teenagers are noisy and make messes. They require attention and spend all day staring at their stupid phones. My routine would be ruined. And forget about walking around the house in my underwear!
I learned a long time ago that my wife always wins arguments so I canceled date night, got drunk, and passed out in my Lay-Z-Boy recliner.
The following Friday, I got home from work and cracked open a beer. On my way from the kitchen refrigerator to my recliner, I heard a noise coming from the pool. Rap music.
Holy hell, here we go, I thought to myself.
There, through the back sliding glass door, laying in the sun by the pool, was eighteen-year-old Lydia. I shook my head in disgust as I walked to the living room, turned on ESPN, and settled into my recliner.
My wife wouldn’t be home for seven hours but I was already dreading the inevitable interruption to my blissful do-nothing Friday night.
Sure enough, Lydia walked into the house about an hour later. I was already three-beers deep, halfway through another viewing of True Grit, and in no mood for conversation.
“Hi, Uncle Nick,” Lydia said with a little wave. I grunted out an acknowledgment without making eye contact, hoping she would go away.
“Are you hungry?”
“Listen, Linda….”
“Lydia.”
“Listen, Lydia, you’re going to be here a while so it’s best to lay some ground rules.”
I had my speech mentally prepared.
“I work very hard and I need my quiet time, so you should become very self-sufficient and learn to do things on your own because I’m old and set in my ways. Okay?”
“Oh. I think you misunderstood me, Uncle Nick. I am about to make some dinner, and was asking if you were hungry so I could make you dinner too.”
Surprised, I looked over at Lydia with a skeptical scowl. Margaret hadn’t cooked me dinner since she started working evenings three years prior.
“I could eat,” I said with a shrug of the shoulders.
Thirty minutes later, Lydia brought me a plate of spaghetti and meatballs and said, “Do you want me to bring you a beer too, Uncle Nick?”
“Sure,” I said with one eyebrow raised. Obviously, my wife had told her niece to get on my good side. It had to be a ploy. Teenagers are worthless, lazy creatures with no ambition and a penchant for mischief.
When I was finished eating, Lydia collected my dirty plate and brought me another beer.
I could get used to this.
The following night, Margaret went out with some friends from work, which meant I avoided two date nights in a row. Three was my personal best. It also meant another night alone with Lydia.
I was watching reruns of Hogan's Heroes when Lydia appeared out of nowhere carrying a bag of potato chips and a bowl of dip. She set it on the end table next to me and asked if I needed any laundry done.
Lydia added, “I’m also going to cook dinner again tonight. Would you like me to make enough for both of us?”
“Yeah, sure,” I said, still hesitant about my niece’s true intentions. I mean, how long could she keep this up and what was her end game?
For the next two weeks, Lydia continued to take care of me. Not only did my routine remain uninterrupted, but I was also eating delicious meals and didn’t have to get out of my chair to grab a fresh beer out of the fridge. My clothes were the cleanest they’d ever been and the house was spotless. I started to dread the end of summer and Lydia’s inevitable departure for college.
One night, as Lydia was handing me a beer, I told her, “You know, I was wrong about you, Lydia. I thought you were going to be yet another worthless teenager but you’re very responsible and mature. Thank you.”
Lydia flashed the biggest smile I think I’ve ever seen.
The following day was a Wednesday. After getting off work about an hour early, I walked into my house and immediately noticed that Lydia wasn’t in her usual spot out by the pool. I walked to my bedroom to change clothes and when I entered the doorway, Lydia was just walking out of my bathroom. She was completely naked.
Covering herself awkwardly with her hands, Lydia said, “Oh! I’m sorry, Uncle Nick. Something is wrong with the shower in my bathroom.”
I quickly turned my head and shielded my eyes. “Oh geez,” I stammered. “This is how pornos start, Lydia. Go and put on some clothes.”
Lydia apologized again as she ran from the room.
Fuck me, I thought to myself over and over again.
I wasn’t angry at Lydia but the image of my niece’s nubile eighteen-year-old body was etched into my memory. Up until this point, I hadn’t noticed Lydia’s looks at all, but I knew right then and there that I wouldn’t be able to get the image of her supple nude body out of my head as long as she was living in the house.
Lydia was barely five feet tall with long curly red hair down to her shoulders and dark green eyes. Her body was voluptuous yet firm, the tan line of her bikini outlining the parts I wasn’t supposed to see. My niece's forbidden lady bits included a pair of perfect natural tits the size of cantaloupes, pink puffy nipples, and a bright red tuft of hair between her legs. Even the toenails on her cute little feet were painted bright red, like a cherry on top but on the bottom.
What really got me were the freckles that covered Lydia’s entire body. I’m a sucker for freckles. It’s one of the things that turns me on about my wife but Margaret’s freckles only cover her neck and chest.
Fuck me.
Then I noticed my cock was harder than being forced to sit through an episode of Sex in the City with my wife. Believing I could get the mental image of my sexy little niece's body out of my mind by tenderizing the tube steak, I took a hot shower and jerked myself off using a squirt of Head & Shoulders for lube. It worked for about ten minutes until I walked back out toward the living room and saw Lydia out by the pool in her red bikini.
Lydia was laying on her stomach, her young bubble butt sticking straight up in the air. The thin material was bunched up in her ass crack, fully revealing the full outline of her butt cheeks.
“Fuck me!” I said it out loud.
For the rest of the week, I felt like a perverted old man. Every time Lydia walked by, I stared at her jiggly freckled tits. When she leaned over me to set down a plate, her perfect teenage ass was the only thing I wanted to eat.
That Saturday, Margaret and I went out on our weekly date. The entire time, all I could think about was Lydia’s tits, ass, and freckles. When we got home, I fucked my wife like it was senior prom night. Margaret came twice and never once had to pull out her vibrator.
“Wow, what got into you tonight, Nick?” Margaret asked with a dumb look of satisfaction on her face. “You must have really liked my outfit.”
“Yeah, it was great,” I said. “First time I’ve seen it since last week.”
Inside I was pissed off at my wife. If she hadn’t invited Lydia to stay with us, my libido wouldn’t have been rekindled and I would have enough sense to keep creativity and stamina out of my marriage bed.
Margaret rolled over and said, “Now I’m going to expect this kind of treatment every date night.”
Fuck me!
The following week at work was a living hell. By Friday, I must have looked like my dog died because when Lydia saw me standing in the kitchen holding a beer, she said, “What’s wrong?”
She was wearing that goddamn tiny red bikini. Trying my best not to stare at her hard nipples poking through the material of her top, I said, “Long day. My boss is a fucking asshole.”
Without saying a word, Lydia leaned in and hugged me. Random displays of affection are not a thing in my house, so her kind gesture moved me. That is, it moved my pocket rocket into launch position.
Trying my best not to let my teenage niece notice that her dirty uncle had a giant boner in his pants, I gently pushed her away. I’m over a foot taller than Lydia and she was staring up at me with those big green eyes, grinning devilishly.
Could she feel my boner?
“Uncle Nick, can I ask you something?”
“You just did, honey.”
Lydia smiled at my stupid attempt at a joke. “The other day… When you got home and got out of the shower…”
Oh, geez, here it comes.
“Do you think I’m pretty?”
“Fuck, Lydia, I’m your uncle. I don’t know how to answer that question without sounding like some kind of pervert but yeah, you’re pretty.”
Lydia smiled and said, “I want to make you a special dinner tonight. Maybe it will help you forget about your day.”
After showering and getting dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, I grabbed a beer and plopped down on my recliner. Soon after, Lydia walked into the living room. My jaw about fell on the floor.
My niece was wearing a tight, short, sleeveless emerald green dress with a plunging neckline that showed off her cleavage. In four-inch black high heels, Lydia seemed quite a bit taller and more mature, and fire engine red lipstick turned her into the personification of wet dripping sex.
Lydia’s natural red curly hair fell in ringlets over her bare shoulders as she leaned over and reached out her hand.
“Come with me, Uncle Nick. Tonight we’re eating at the dinner table.”
