What started as a blissful matrimony spiced with glee, bliss and ecstasy soon morphed into a bitter tale of hate, betrayal and denial. Funke was my incredibly beautiful wife of eight years. Tall, smartly carved with twin mammaries that caught my phallic fantasies in perpetual ecstasies, was a lover, friend and sister. I had met her through a mutual acquaintance, Sola in one of our church singles program. She was deeply effacing, charming and churchy. Her spirituality, combined with her spiritual vivacity caught my roving attention all through. I drew closer, and with time, initiated a friendship that would eventually morph into courtship, then marriage.
Funke was by no means flirtatious or sexually incontinent. As a matter of fact, I met Funke a virgin, unsullied and untainted. Our wedding night was one of glory and blissful stories. I had kissed Funke gently, guiding her through the intricacies of lovemaking. Her reluctance, reticence and sheer diffidence showed that she was not the type exposed to the sexual. My kisses gently morphed into caresses as I carefully exposed her heaving breasts which i sucked thoroughly. Through moans and sighs, she let out gasps of satisfaction. She held on to my back tightly as I rammed her with strokes that took away her virginity. In hours, we lay exhausted, sharing gists and toasts to a marital future of glee and bliss. Her shyness gradually gave way to exuberance as she learned to ride me and suck my cock. Soon, she was not the shy virgin retiring to my arms after the first round. She grew to love the sex and the styles, the sweats and the smacks as we repeatedly fucked each other in different positions.
Things began to take a terrible turn after the birth of our first child, John. It got worse with the birth of our second child, James . It all started with Funke’s sudden sullen looks during sex. Her initial burst of energy and climactic ooze of satisfaction changed into winces and grimaces of dissatisfaction all through. Each time we had sex , she wanted more. There were moments I came back from work, exhausted and famished, craving sleep. Funke would just have none of it, baying for sex. She held on to my dick perpetually. Even after cumming, she immediately wanted me back to action. I didn’t take it too seriously, until she became non committal about our sex life.
Funke suddenly became addicted to her phone. Her WhatsApp became her new haven, as she clicked and typed away while we lay on the bed. She became cold and icy towards me, unwilling to initiate sexual advances. She then began to receive strange phone calls , many of which she refused to pick around me. Her movements became awkwardly unpredictable. When she isn’t staying late into the midnight chatting, she is not coming home at all, giving all sorts of excuses for staying over at work. And when I asked what was wrong, she was unintelligible and irascible. I then decided to seize the bull by the horn.
I began to pay closer attention to her phone. I watched her as she decrypted her phone password. On a particular night, she dozed off while chatting. I picked up her phone and immediately went through her WhatsApp chats. The first chat contact tickled my attention. The name was “Heartbeat” My heart skipped in multiple beats.
“Who on earth could be funke’s heartbeat? “, I wondered. This was not my number. She changed my contact to “Segun” years ago.
I clicked on the chat. And met the shock of my life. There was my wife’s last conversation, just minutes before she dozed off..
“ I can’t wait for you to fuck me again. I love the way you spank and make me squirt. Please don’t stop. I love you baby. Savour my pussy for tonight”…I clicked on the image directly attached to the message.
There was my wife’s pussy, glistening in its gripping totality, exposed to a man that was not her husband. Alas, Funke had been cheating on me. But I needed to catch her red-handed.
I scrolled through the chat further. The date for her dick appointment was there. “Tomorrow evening 8p.m Hilton Hotel. I promise to give it to you in grand style”, hear “heartbeat” response was heart-rending
The following morning, Funke woke early and began to prepare for work.
“Segun, I won’t be coming back today. We have a strategy review session at the office headquarters which could take us the whole night. Please, help me pick James and John from school in the afternoon”
With that, she stormed out. Few minutes to 8pm, I parked somewhere far off the hotel, where I could have a view of all entries and exits. Some few minutes past 8, I saw my wife drive in. Stepping out of the car, she walked towards a man who came out of the hotel and gave him a sizzling kiss. At that point, my instincts took charge. I took out my phone and took a snapshot. She entered the hotel with him. I had seen enough.
The following day, Funke came in , ostensible exhausted.
“Good morning Segun. I had a very stressful day at work and I need a lot of rest”
“ Really?I responded. This obviously did not look like you at work “, I continued , pushing the phone to her face as she saw my caption of her kissing another man.
For all of our professed love and matrimony , I had at least expected a level of penitence, shame and sobriety. But what came, like a torpedo , hit me below the belt.
“ So have you been following me around? Have you been that jobless You have no shame at all. That man fucks me well, in styles, in shapes and never gets tired of giving it to me. All you do is complain, get tired and never last long. If you don’t know, he has been there for me since the very first months. For your information, he is James and John’s father. You are merely a guardian!”
I couldn’t believe my ears. Funke had to be joking. I could live with the fact that she cheated. Afterall, she had alleged my reduced sexual energy as a factor. But the fact that I wasn’t the legitimate father of the kids meant a lot. It was too weighty to be ignored. John was 7 and James was 3. The fact that Funke had been cheating on me with the same man for over 7 years was enough trouble. I couldn’t bear not being the father of my kids.
Instantly, I held on to her.
“Funke, please tell me its not true”, I lamented
“It is”, she reaffirmed, as she stormed out of the room.
There was shame, trepidation then catastrophe looming. I summoned courage and conducted paternity tests on my John and James. Alas, our DNA results did not match. Funke has officially applied for divorce, citing irreconcilable differences. Apparently, she is dumping me for the Father of James and John.