Free Husband Dot Com by Ann Dunn Page A

like I would send strange men pictures of my shaved buttercup if I got ticked off at them! A married man did not deserve a wife if he was pulling those types of outlandish stunts.
 
    A few weeks went by, an d I was still coughing up blood-soaked feathers from my bird cage being rattled. Trent and I fell asleep together once again, and hours later, I shot right out of bed like a rocket. I was in the middle a horrible nightmare that black snakes were surrounding my feet! I was hitting the sheets before my eyes even opened— the dream was so vivid. I could feel the heaviness of the snakes twirling around my ankles. I automatically hit the left side of the bed with my arm and it fell into emptiness. Trent was gone. I flew downstairs to find my resident pervert on a live sex site that had a black snake as the main logo. It was as if my subconscious was screaming, “Wake up from denial town, girlfriend!”  The entire thing was surreal to me. He was such a sneaky guy who had me on eggshells even in my sleep. It was a terrible omen that my dreams had to make me aware of the problems that affected me in my waking hours.

Much to my horror, I would wake up quite often and not find Trent in bed with me, but online and virtually sexing it up with strangers. He even had a webcam so that he could put on amateur live sex shows when I wasn't home. I reluctantly became a part-time investigator in my own marriage. Trent thought it was nothing and was angry at me for being upset with him. I felt stabbed in the heart. He had met me online, so naturally I felt threatened by his behavior. There was nothing stopping him from meeting local sex partners behind my back.
    I knew there had to be more dirt on that mysterious whore lady. So, I we nt through the garage and snooped inside his suitcase. I found his video camera hidden inside of an old white shirt. I was a nervous wreck when I ran inside to plug the damn thing in. I sat at the kitchen table watching Trent, some skank bitch, and a gross middle-age man having sex in a cheap hotel room. They were actually taking turns screwing her while the other one watched! I was hysterical, not laughing, but rather, crying! I threw the camera down on the Italian tile and it smashed to plastic smithereens. I sat there with a chilling numbness until Trent came home from his softball game. He said the threesome happened way before we ever met. He was pissed off that I broke the video camera, and I was outraged over seeing him behaving like a full-fledged human sausage and loving his three-way action. There was no way that I could lie to myself anymore about his torrid past after witnessing that video firsthand.

Trent’s past was garishly decorated with random sex encounters at human swap-shops. He frequented sex clubs in South Florida as a part of his normal weekend routine—before I came trotting along. I never understood that, because he was not blessed with a spectacular member or anything. The visual of him walking around naked in those secret clubs like a proud peacock seemed curiously odd to me. If I were a man, I’d never prance around in my birthday suit in public unless my Johnson was slapping both sides of my knees. Apparently, Trent wished he still was living the naked life during our disastrous new marriage. He promised me, with tears in his eyes, that he was over that phase of his “sex obsessed” life.

I daydreamed about more children, family cookouts, and theme park vacations. I wanted to skip down Main Street in Disney World at midnight, holding hands and sniffing cotton candy. Oh, and I also wished for a passionate sex life. Unfortunately, the naked ghosts from Trent’s past rolled around in our king-sized bed with us! Our minds and genitals were in very different places, and yet we were sleeping under the same golden comforter.
    Nothing in my life made sense anymore. That empty excuse of a man had ruined my life, one porn experience at a time. How could I ever feel secure with