18 comments/ 87033 views/ 3 favorites Donovan's Rewarding Revenge Ch. 01 By: ErotikWryter Brandon Tolman sat on the well-used toilet within the confines of the dingy, yellowed bathroom. With sickened thought, he wondered how many prostitutes and how many illegal drugs had passed through the small motel room, located off the six-lane main highway running through Salt Lake City, Utah. As he sat, trying to empty himself of the many liters of alcohol he had consumed over the past three days, he watched a cockroach scurry alongside the worn, dirt-engrained shower stall. Feeling all the more queasy, he quickly steered his head into the old washbasin, but could only dry-heave with disgust. Outright disgust. Not necessarily of the conditions of the room, but of his situation, his life, and how everything changed in such a short instant. 'But, was it really in such a short instant?' He thought, as he peered through the open doorway of the bathroom to again realize that this was no wicked, tormented dream. No, the situation he was in was no figment of imagination, for it was a matter of fact - very real, and a very harsh reality. "What have I done?" He whispered, with sickness. "What the fuck have I done?" Though the past few days felt like one long, tumultuous, never-ending day, it had been a grueling four days since it happened. And, other than the first day, Brandon had been on a drinking binge ever since; desirous to rid his mind of the hurt, fear, and humiliation that he had felt. The pit of his stomach felt empty, yet was soured by the caustic alcohol poisoning that remained in his system. His hands trembled with anxiety, proving to Brandon that he was distressed and needed some help of some kind, or something. He didn't know, though his mind raced in several patterns of thought, trying to get a grasp on it all. "What the flying fuck have I done?" He again asked, with a heightened tone. Brandon finished his duties on the toilet, all that he could muster for the moment, and staggered queasily into the one-room rental. His eyes gazed around the room, attempting to make some sense of the confusion of his now-present circumstance. In one corner, next to the disheveled bed, was a faux cherry nightstand, probably made of the highest quality particle board. It's veneer top had several burn marks, some of which were intentional, others by burning cigarettes, joints, or whatever former occupants had smoked. It's drawer front was missing, and Brandon could see an old, barely worn Bible laying amongst complimentary writing pads. To the other side of the bed, an old 1970's table that Brandon had found to be extremely unstable, barely capable of holding the pizza box that contained one last hard piece of nutrition. Brandon thought that he might have ordered the pizza about two days ago, but wasn't confident of his assumption. Next to the wall, facing the end of the bed stood a dresser, all its drawers unoccupied except for Brandon's few change of clothes. It didn't match any of the other few pieces of furniture that occupied the room, it's wood color being a completely different hue of brown. Yet, Brandon supposed that it sufficed for the moment. On the dresser, a TV that had been locked to the wall, with a thick braided cable. Brandon mused that the piece of shit wasn't worth stealing, knowing by experience that it had only two volumes of sound: mute, or loud. It's volume buttons were missing and the remote could perform only one function: turning the TV on, or off. Complimenting, or looking odd next to the TV, stood a small refrigerator, with a warming plate on top of it. Brandon hadn't actually used the warming plate, but did try it to see if it worked. Surprisingly, he was tickled to know that at least one of the burners worked. It was a far cry from what Brandon had gotten used to and the lifestyle that he had lived over the past five years of his marriage. In fact, just four days ago, he had it all and then some. He couldn't have wanted, or needed anything more - in a materialistic sense. And, taking a second glance of his current living condition reinforced the blatant ignorance of his own actions. 'How could've I been so fucking stupid?' Brandon thought, shaking his head in mesmerized disbelief. Just four days ago, he was living in a lifestyle of prominence, security, career opportunity and marital, material wealth. Though he was only twenty-four years old, "he" owned a beautiful rambler situated in a new construction development. The home was only two years old, and custom built for he and his wife, Paula. Every facet, and every architectural aesthetic was determined prior to construction and built to exact specification. After all, his wife's father owned a residential architectural firm, and his wife's mother was a very prominent interior designer. By the genes that must have been given to her through the conception process, Paula's skills honed in a natural manner. She was artistic - able to naturally sketch and draw, color coordinate, and provide harmony throughout each room and area of living space. She was also business oriented - capable to realize priorities of tasks, management of assets and day-to-day operations. Due to a tragic event within the first two years of Brandon and Paula's marriage, Paula became a non-voting officer of the board of operations of her father's firm. At that time, her mother and father were involved in a fatal accident, causing a Trust to be actualized, and the operations of the business to be transferred to Paula's control on the grounds that she graduate, Bachelor level, with at least two majors: Architectural or Interior Design, and Business. Whether or not she chose to satisfy the Trust's requirements, Paula had been Willed to receive 100% of her parent's personal assets, minus Probate costs and the associated costs of death. Considering that a Will and Trust had been re-created after Brandon and Paula's marital vows, Brandon had been included within the contents of the legal documentation, but had to suffice a minimum marriage of at least 84 months of marriage to Paula. If, and only if he were to retain the marriage between he and Paula, Brandon would have received, or been Willed ½ of Paula's parent's personal assets, and ½ of Paula's share of the business ownership of her father's firm. Of course, the biggest and most meaningful word of all considerations of the Will was the two-letter word, "if." As of late, and currently, "if" was the word that Brandon could only repeat to himself time and time again. It wasn't just the material aspects of the situation either. It was more than that, for he knew that he lost every aspect of what he knew and had accepted to be a part of his life. For all intents and purposes, he knew that he lost his wife, his job and the home that he had "owned" with his darling wife, Paula. "God damn it!" Brandon furiously screamed, throwing the worthless remote control at the wall. "That fucking asshole stole it all from me!" Whether he could psychologically accept the facts or not, Brandon was consciously aware that he made a poor choice of actions, beginning a little less than one year ago. And, even though he tried to sell himself on the idea that everything "happened" four days ago, he could not deny that he was responsible for setting himself up, several months prior. And, though he wanted to blame his wife, and the black man who took her from him, he could not erase the knowledge of his own crowning. For, after all, Brandon presented his lovely wife, home and lifestyle on a silver pewter platter for the black man to partake, and the black man did hungrily devour the offering, and took the pewter plate, too. 'What is she doing with him, right now?' Brandon wondered, while caressing his own flaccidity, wanting it to become hard and controlling of his irresolute patterns of thought and indecisiveness. After all, though he could not control what had already occurred to him, he felt in control while he masturbated to the thought of his beautiful wife spreading her incorrupt legs for the black man's tool of superiority. And for the moment of his trial, he so desperately wanted to have some control, and wanted to stroke himself, as he had done so many times in the past. Reminiscent of the audible, sexually charged sounds of his wife and the black man together, Brandon could only sum enough courage to at least try to give his wife a telephone call. His now hardened dick gave him some want, or desire to face the truth and be in control. Though his dick was hard at first, he dialed the number of his own home, and realized that his phallus gradually softened with fear, hoping that no one would answer - though he wanted someone to answer, though he hoped no one would answer. His thoughts and ideas were strained, wishy-washy for something. What was it? What was he going to say? How would he repent to his wife? Why was he calling her? 'Oh shit! I better hang up the phone!' Brandon thought, just as the other end picked up. "Hello?" A man answered, most likely the black man. "Um," Brandon quivered, "is Paula there?" "Yes." The man replied. "Who is this?" "I'm Brandon. I'm Paula's husband." "Oh yes. How the fuck are ya?" "I'm alright. But, is she there and can she talk?" "Nah man. Sorry. I just got done fucking your wife and she's taking a shower. Of course, I know that you don't mind, because you approved it long before she even knew." Brandon tightened up at the thought, knowing that it was true. "Can she give me a call when she gets out of the shower?" "Sorry. No can do. I'm taking her out on a nice date - something that it sounds like you never bothered to do." Brandon could only cringe and remain silent. His dick was beginning to harden once again, wanting to be stroked. "But, hey - I gotta tell ya… your wife's pussy is so tight. Damn man, I can't believe you were literally giving her away." The black man laughed. "Too bad you weren't there to see your wife suck my black dick, and watch me fuck her like she's never been fucked before." Brandon tried to regain his composure, "But, I was there, kinda." "Yeah, you were. You were in the other room, tied to a chair and could only hear it. The funny thing is - you never was able to watch, and that was what you had wanted, wasn't it?" Brandon remained speechless. "Your pretty little wife loves my black dick" the black man stated. "And come to think of it, I'm beginning to love your wife." Brandon could only stutter, "Will you have her give me a call?" The black man laughed, "Yeah. Whatever dude. If I remember to tell her." With no further comment, the man hung up the phone. Brandon could only sit in his motel room, listening to the silence of the other end of the telephone line. His now-hardened dick throbbed with pain, thinking of his wife and the black stud that was with her. He unzipped his pants slowly and started to masturbate. Soon, he would climax as he had done in many times past. Soon, he would re-gain control, but for now, he just needed to think about his wife, and her black lover. Donovan's Rewarding Revenge Ch. 02 After stroking himself to ejaculation, Brandon wiped the semen from his stomach using a sock that he had previously worn. And, though he felt guilty for masturbating to the idea and knowledge of Paula being speared by the black man's tool, Brandon had regained a certain sense of composure. Additionally, he was now relatively sober and could think in a sensible, clear manner. Or could he? With all of the occurrences as of late, Brandon could not focus on one issue, for his mind constantly changed thought. What was he going to do? Why did he get himself involved with it? What caused it? Why did Paula actually go for it? How did the black man know where to find Brandon and Paula? How was the black man able to talk to Paula, and melt her into bed? Most importantly, succeeding the preceding thoughts, Brandon could only wonder, 'Why did my sick fantasy actually come true?' As he lay on the motel bed, partially naked, with his now lifeless penis drained of brain distorting thoughts and fantasies, Brandon reminisced of the very beginning. Thinking back to his teenage years, he remembered Paula at her then-age of fifteen years old. It was the first day of his junior year of high school and Paula's first day of being a high school student. He and she shared an industrial arts class that combined the art of design and drafting with the function of construction / woodworking. Being a junior and being knowledgeable of the high school's corridors, Brandon had found his way to the classroom without trouble and had seated himself amongst three friends at a 4' X 8' workbench. While waiting for the final bell to ring that signified the start of class, Brandon curiously opened and closed the drawers of his bench space and paid little attention to the classroom doorway. Just prior to the bell, Brandon's friend, Ian, caught the attention of Brandon by the sully remark, "Damn! Look at that piece of ass." As he looked toward the door, Brandon saw his future wife for the first time, though he did not know that she would be. At first glance, he was turned off by Paula's choice of first day of school attire, making her suave, prim and uppity. "Yeah, whatever." Brandon scolded. "She's dressed like a freakin' attorney. She doesn't even belong in this class." The other friend, Dustin, teased, "But if she's a slut who cares?" Mandy, one of Brandon's best friends spoke in baby talk, "Oh, look at lil Miss Perfect scared and lost. She needs her Daddy to help her find her seat." On second glance, Brandon found Paula's timid poise to be cute and sexy. Though she tried to hold herself out as confident, Brandon could see that the new sophomore was not in her comfort zone, and was probably thinking that she was too overdressed for the class that she had signed up for. In fact, as he stared at her, he noticed that she looked around the room to locate a seat, then looked down at her clothed body to realize that her skirt and top did not conform to the peers of her new classroom. Being confronted with the final bell, Paula desperately searched the classroom to find an available seat in order to sit down and reduce the attention that she felt was focused upon her. With no other choices made available to her, she appeared to calmly walk toward a workbench that consisted of three others that were definitely not within her clique. And, though she may have appeared to be comfortable, Paula's mind was filled with anxiety and uneasiness. Brandon commented, "She is cute, though." With no apparent reason, Mandy disciplined Brandon. "Anyone can see that she's a bitch, Brandon. And, if you think that she would have anything to do with you, you're as stupid as a chick flick movie. Get off of it." Brandon smiled at his best friend, "Yeah, you always have known what's best." "I know." Mandy smirked. "I'm the reason why you are who you are." As with all first day of school classes, the teacher provided the general expectations of the school year's synopsis, and required the new students to take a pre-test of their particular skills and interests. It was a non-graded test, and only served for placement purposes. On the following day, the teacher indicated that he had reviewed the previous day's test, and would assign seats appropriate to the test results. By his teaching experience, he had found that a team effort between two students usually resulted in a much higher curve of learning. Thus, he assigned students according to their strengths and weaknesses. Overall, he made every effort to balance a team effort, pairing one individual of sub-standard with another individual of high standard and vice-versa. To the best of his abilities, the teacher sought to pair an artist with a woodworker. To Brandon's dismay at the time, he was paired with the bitch that would later become his wife. To Paula, she had no opinions and was sort of content. She was neither disappointed or pleased. Yes, she did find Brandon to be kinda cute, but he certainly wasn't a boy of her dreams. And, as she had been raised in a conservative environment, she was a virgin girl with little sexual thoughts and no experience. So, she cared less of her peer associate and really didn't think anything of their pairing. On the same thought, she knew that she had to take the class, based upon her father's advice, or order. If she had it her own way, she knew that she would have opted for a drawing / art class that would have placed her in an environment of people that she could actually associate with. At the time of their pairing and assigned seating, Brandon looked at his classroom partner with some hesitation, yet found that she held a marvelous beauty. Petite in form and body, Paula stood about 5'1" and weighed maybe 110 pounds. She had long dark brunette hair, flowing to the middle of her back, curled. In lovely contrast, however, she had a half-inch strand of hair that was naturally lighter than the rest, almost auburn. Her eyes were pretty; hazel in color with light brown eyelashes that accented the perfect eyebrows that she kept trim and plucked. Brandon noticed a cuteness about her and was charmed that while she spoke, her nose would kinda wiggle a little bit, almost like a soft bunny's nose, though not as prominent. And, when she laughed, her little nose would scrunch a bit, just enough to make the moment that much better. Her mouth was small, appropriately perfect for her petite face, with lips that were naturally blushed a shade of darkened red. Brandon also noticed that Paula wore little make-up, allowing her natural beauty to be revealed, though she would blush her cheeks lightly. Though she had certainly not been gifted in Nature's breast department, her breasts were supple and firm, appropriate for her body size and weight. By Brandon's assumption, he guessed that they were probably about 30B, though he wasn't completely sure, for he certainly wasn't going to come right out and ask his new classmate to tell him her breast measurements. The classroom pairing was absolute, and perfect for the Brandon and Paula team. She could draft / draw like a gifted artist, whereas Brandon was lucky to create a stick figure to look like a being. On the other hand, he could construct and use shop machinery very well, whereas Paula didn't know the difference between the shop tools, their uses, and their operation. Together, they were able to work as a team within the classroom and as they got to know each other, they got closer. Within inner circles, Paula was known as the "Leg Clamped Bitch", or "Miss Chastity" depending on what circle one would be a part of. And, though she was known of within many of the high school cliques, she was not really a part of any particular following, or stereotyped group. Though she was secretly popular within the circles, Paula was not an outgoing, overall popular girl. She had a few close friends, but she was reserved and had often come across as a bitch. Many high school males tried, without success, to get her on a date with hopes of getting her panties off. Yet, she remained chaste and rather confident about the rule that she would not and could not date until she had turned sixteen years of age. Brandon too, was not a part of any particular high school group. But, though Paula was strikingly gorgeous, and known by all peer groups, Brandon had not been afforded the same looks and was kind of average. He certainly wasn't butt ugly, nor was he extremely handsome. Instead, he was just Brandon. Overall, he held a cuteness, but a female would not fantasize about him, and if Brandon were to want a relationship with a girl, he would have to use his charm and communication rather than his looks. In another sense, he was not like Paula, for he was not a virgin and had many sexual thoughts. Beginning with the day that he and his neighbor friend, Kim, had played "doctor" at a young age, combined with the sexual encounter that he had with her at his age of 14, he was sexually active for the most part. Kim wasn't Brandon's only score, either - for he had experience with two other girls. And, as much as he could, he often viewed pornography. In its due time, Paula became close to Brandon and trusted him as a friend, and found him to carry a certain charisma of charm and looks. Though she was sort of shy to do so, she asked him to help her clean her father's business office, letting Brandon know that he would be financially rewarded for doing so. In another instance, she invited him over to her house for Monday night "Family Home Evening" - a Mormon religion tradition that occurs every Monday, and allows for family get-togethers. Overall, her intent was to try to be a missionary, and attempt to "convert" Brandon to her faith, and convert her parents to accept him as a possible suitor, though he was not a Mormon. Paula was falling in love with Brandon, and she knew that she was. Brandon was falling in love with Paula, and he knew that he was. Yet, neither knew each other's thoughts. Succeeding her sixteenth birthday, Paula asked Brandon to a youth church dance, that was sponsored by her religion's Ward. In the Mormon religion, a Ward consists of a group of people, living relatively close to the church house, allowing for a community centered atmosphere. For the most part, a Ward teaches the religion's principles, but allows the Ward's bishopric to care for it's particular community needs as is appropriate. Further, the Mormon religion teaches family values, and wants its single members to meet and become to know a potential mate. On the other hand, the Mormon principles of meeting a mate does not include sexual activity, nor does it allow for sexual activity prior to marital relations. Upon Brandon's acceptance of her invite, Paula was absolutely thrilled. It was, after all, her first date. Upon the night of she and Brandon coming up close, Paula found an intense desire within her virgin innocence that she had not experienced before. She wanted more, but she did not know what she wanted. Did she want to be kissed? Did she want to be held? What did she want? After the dance, Brandon drove her to her house. And, though she did not know why, she reached out to kiss him. And, with Brandon's acceptance, he kissed her back, allowing his tongue to enter her mouth and his hands to press her against him. Though she did not know what she wanted, she did know that she wanted more. 'More of what?' she asked herself. After Brandon's leaving, Paula went to her room and undressed - readying herself for bed. With some dismay, and with a lot of confusion, she realized that her panties were wet, caused by her virgin vagina's appetite. She realized that she wanted something more, and knew what she wanted. She wanted Brandon to take her precious virginity. She knew that she wanted something to soothe her itch. She wanted it and needed it. Four months later, and after talking with her friends and Brandon, Paula allowed her Brandon to take her innocence. And, though she was filled with a certain sense of guilt, she felt cured, and wanted more. After graduation from high school and with more than three years of a relationship with Brandon, Paula was ecstatic when Brandon proposed marriage. Though her parents were not necessarily pleased with Paula's love toward Brandon, due to the fact that he was not a good Mormon boy, Paula's parents accepted the idea, and sort of supported their only daughter's choice of a husband. Thus, Brandon and Paula were married at her age of eighteen and his age of nineteen. At first, their marriage was perfect in a sexual sense. Like most new marriages, sex was a constant. Yet, as the months progressed, Brandon reverted to his knowledge of porn and sexual ideas. He didn't mean to, for he knew that his wife was a treasure, but he felt a sense of lacking. He felt, in his own mind that Paula deserved more, for whatever reason he thought. He felt, after all, that he wasn't everything that Paula had wanted. He knew, deep in his mind that his wife was absolutely gorgeous and she deserved a man to please her. He knew, deep in the roots of his thinking that he was not capable to help her be a woman. He knew that he wanted her to be special, for she was a special woman to him and he wanted her to feel. Feeling nauseous once again, Brandon slowly lifted himself from his motel bed to relieve himself of the sickness that he had placed upon himself. The day was going to be very long, and he would be depressed by the choices that he had made. After all, his prized wife was now with a black man, just as Brandon had fantasized. Donovan's Rewarding Revenge Ch. 03 Thoughts: They come and they go; and a painted picture, or a camera portrait speaks a thousand words, exponentially increased by the thoughts of the viewer. In Brandon's mind, his thoughts were filled with pictures of his wife, Paula; each thought increased by his knowledge and experience of her. And, though he could write more than a million words to describe her, taking hundreds of hours to write and read, the thoughts within his brain consumed less than five minutes of thought, after he had tried to contact her on the phone. Unfortunately, for Brandon, the black man answered the telephone. As he knelt beside the porcelain toilet bowl, and as he had originally wondered, Brandon thought of his wife and what she was doing with the black man. Still, and even more, he wondered why Paula was taking a shower so relatively early in the morning and where the black man was planning to take Paula on a date. ----------------------------------- After speaking to Brandon, Donovan set the cordless phone into its charger with a smirk on his face. For, after all, he lay naked in the marital bed of the husband and the pretty wife, Paula. Beside him, the husband's petite wife, also naked, was snuggled next to him - her hand upon his chest and her leg resting upon his abdomen, her pussy slightly splayed and her soft pubic hair touching his black skin. In its due time - within the next hour, or so - Donovan knew that the white wife would soon awaken completely and mount herself on top of him to allow the head of his dick to touch the opening of her youngish, tight and soothing love canal. Of course, his lengthy dick would harden with the wife's invite and she would politely slide herself onto his dark, black pole. "Who was that?" Paula quietly and sleepily asked. Donovan stoked the long mane of her brunette hair, smoothed across her soft back and patted her soft ass, "Your husband." "Oh." She nonchalantly responded as her cheek found its way upon his dark, warm chest - snuggling ever so closer. She caressed his neck with several small kisses, working herself onto his chest, desirous - yet too sleepy to love his beautiful, meaty black dick. Donovan kissed her cheek, letting the young, petite, white wife respond by allowing him to kiss her lips. "Go to sleep, baby." "Mmm, I love the way you treat me." "I couldn't have done it without you, girl." Paula sleepily giggled. "Or, without Brandon?" "Yeah. Without him, we would've never met." "Yes. Cheers to Brandon." She answered, too tired to care, and ready for a cat nap. As Donovan watched Paula close her eyes for more sleep, he was amazed at her beauty and could not believe that he had been so fortunate. And, yet - it was handed to him. While Paula slept, Donovan thought. He didn't quite remember the exact date that he and Brandon had met online, though he knew that it wasn't more than one year ago. Within a couple of weeks after their meeting, Donovan sent Brandon a hyperlink to a website that provided interracial pictures and movies, exclusively. Donovan is a self-made, successful man. At seventeen years of age, he entered the Army as an infantryman. By his choice, he had volunteered for Special Forces duty and became a highly-decorated, well-skilled, and physically chiseled "Green Beret". And, if it weren't for the fact that Donovan had impregnated a Colonel's white nineteen year-old daughter, he would still be a soldier of excellence. But, Donovan was sidelined by the Colonel's abilities to wreak havoc on his upstanding military record. Thus, by the Colonel's choice, Donovan was discharged from the Army, and the Colonel's daughter's seeded womb was aborted of Donovan's masculinity. Upon his discharge, the former Staff Sergeant Webb attended driver's training toward a commercial tractor / trailer truck license. At first, he drove for the company that had paid and sponsored his driver's training. With some time, Donovan had become independent, acquiring several tractor-trailer combinations. While out on the road, he had developed a fee-based interracial web-site and was able to manage it and benefit from the fees he had charged for the web-site. Thus, Donovan was not in need of money, nor was he in need of a job. Further, he was able to go wherever and whenever he so chose. As an internet webmaster, and business owner, Donovan would often peruse the chat rooms to analyze the market of prospective clientele. Overall, he wanted to investigate what the "real" people wanted to see. For the most part, he realized that many white husbands were online, fantasizing to watch their own wives service a black man. To further understand the phenomena, Donovan disguised himself as an online member and was able to chat "one-on-one" with a variety of sorts. Ever the business seeker, he would reference his own web-site as an excellent locale for pictures, groups, etc. Though most of his online conversations had become "standard type" of fantasy / cyber chat, Donovan had become quite interested in one, particular husband's story and wife. To Donovan, the husband's wife seemed to be a prize. And, after a few months of chat with the husband, whose name was Brandon, Donovan finally persuaded the husband to send a "G-rated" picture of his wife, Paula. When he first opened the picture attachment, Donovan was dumbfounded that a husband would put such a caliber wife on the meat market. She was young and very beautiful; and Donovan remembered that Brandon had stated that she was virgin until the husband had taken her innocence her age of sixteen. Donovan also recollected that Brandon had stated that they had no children. To Donovan, the pretty white wife was still practically a virgin, especially as it related to his meat's size and girth. Without much explicit thought, he did find himself to become very hard, at the thought of Paula. When he opened the picture attachment, Donovan was delighted to find a picture of the wife in her wedding dress. As the husband had indicated, she was comparatively young, and very attractive. By the picture, she was a petite, long-haired brunette with curls that extended to the small of her back. Her eyes were hazel green with curly eyelashes and plucked eyebrows. Her nose, centered almost perfectly upon her face accented the pout lips of her mouth, colored by the red lipstick that she wore for her wedding. Her smile bared her perfectly aligned white teeth and revealed the joy that she was feeling at the time. Her breasts appeared to be small and supple, yet perky. The wedding dress fit the lily wife perfectly, allowing the sexiness of her curves to show, while maintaining a certain chasteness of not revealing the deeply hidden black-loving slut within. After a few more months of intensified online chat and in consideration of all the things that the husband had wrote, combined with the picture that Brandon had sent, Donovan felt fairly certain that Brandon was being real. Further, if the husband were, in fact, being real, Donovan felt that he himself should pursue the ideas before Brandon had advertised his pretty little wife to another man. Desirous to advance the situation, combined with their current online chat, Donovan sent an instant message to Brandon: >send me a video of your wife Brandon replied: >a video? like what kind? >send a video of her undressing for me >mmm... i'll bet she'd luv to undress for you. i've been telling' her a lot about you. >then - send a video and send me the pair of panties that Paula wears when she undresses >you'd like that wouldn't you? >you bet I would. I've been wanting to see your wife naked ever since her wedding pic. >yes. i think it is time to move this forward. but - are you gonna give me your address? >of course i will. i have nothing to hide. >okay. is there anything in particular that you wish my wife to undress from, for you? >what do you mean? >i mean, do you want her to undress from clothes, lingerie, a skirt, anything particular? >no - surprise me. watching your wife getting naked is good for me no matter what >okay - then send me your address Donovan sent his address to Brandon. Though Donovan did not have a residence due to the fact that his truck's oversized sleeper was his home, Donovan did maintain a business address for his trucking company and internet web business. Besides, for all intents and purposes, his business address was also his home address - for he maintained a relatively small studio apartment above the small office space of his business. In closing of their chat, Donovan wrote: >let me know when you send it. Brandon replied: >i will - i'll send you an e-mail on the day that i send it. >very well. i look forward to it and know that Paula looks forward to undressing for me. >oh yes... she does. ----------------------------------- Three days later, Donovan received an e-mail from Brandon indicating that he had sent the package to the address that Donovan had provided. Without hesitation, Donovan used his cell phone to contact his secretary, "Good morning, Julie." "Good morning, Mr. Webb." Julie answered. "Would you like your daily report?" "Yes, but let's hold off on that for now. Instead, and first of all, I want you to be aware of a package that will be delivered within the next few days, or so." "Okay." Julie responded while she took memorandum of her boss's needs. "Secondly, I need you to start looking and arranging for dispatches that take me closer to the cities of Denver, Las Vegas, Boise, Santa Fe, or Salt Lake City." "Oh?" Julie remarked, surprised. "Are you desirous to expand the operation westward? "No, not at this moment." Donovan responded. "When the package arrives, I want you to inform me immediately. Then, I'll have you forward it to me." "Okay." Julie answered. Four days later, Julie called her boss's cell phone. "Mr. Webb?" "Yes, Julie?" "The package that you were awaiting has arrived. But, sir?" "Yes, Julie?" "It doesn't have a return address on it. Is this package safe to open?" "First of all, Julie, I don't want you to open the package. Second of all, I want you to put the package in another box and send it to me, with our business as the return address for it. Third, I want you to overnight the package to me." "At your current location of Topeka, sir? "No. Send it to a Denver truck stop." "Any particular one, sir?" "No, just locate a decent truck stop within the Denver vicinity and send it, then tell me the address after you have sent it." The following day, Julie called Donovan. "Mr. Webb, I sent the package via UPS Next Day Air to a truck stop located off the outskirts of Denver. I called earlier this morning and received a Delivery Confirmation. Would you like the address and Tracking Number sir?" "Very good, Julie. Let me get a pen and paper." Upon signing for the package and opening it to review its contents, Donovan was not pleased. He did not appreciate being manipulated and he detested outright, blatant lies. Instead of receiving a video of Brandon's wife undressing for Donovan, Brandon sent a letter of apology and truth. It described that Brandon had a secret fantasy about his wife and that Paula knew nothing of it. It further indicated that Brandon enjoyed the fantasy, and wanted more, but wasn't so sure that he really wanted Paula to be with another man for fear of losing her. On the same token, Brandon indicated that he had bought a special pair of panties for Paula, and had soaked them with Paula's pussy juices - thus, Brandon hoped that a delicacy of Paula's panties might give Donovan a little more of Paula than what he had before. Donovan picked up the pair of panties and rubbed his fingers along the silk and inhaled the sweet scent of Paula's womanly fragrance. Though it was a nice gesture, it wasn't what Brandon had said he was going to do, nor was it what Donovan requested. Further, Brandon had lied throughout the entire process. Donovan would have his reward, or revenge. In the end, it would be his rewarding revenge. Donovan's Rewarding Revenge Ch. 04 After some thought, Donovan contacted his secretary, Julie. "Julie, this is Donovan." "Yes sir, did you receive the package?" "Yes I did. I need you to do a couple of things for me." "Yes, how may I assist you, sir?" Donovan spoke fast and assertive, "First, I need you to review the dispatches for our drivers, and tell me whether they are booked for the weekend. Second, I need you to tell me whether you've located a dispatch for me within the Salt Lake City vicinity - one which brings me eastward. Third, I need you to enter the website and account for all of our customers located in Utah. Fourth, I need you to locate the information, and have a report for me within the next hour." "Yes, sir. Is there anything else?" "No. Just call me when you have the information." "Yes, I will. But if I may provide you one answer now, sir?" "What would that be, Julie?" "I have already taken the liberty to confirm a pickup in a city named Ogden, which is a city approximately twenty-five miles north of Salt Lake City. Its primary destination is Detroit, with a secondary destination of Cleveland." "Okay." Donovan remarked, sounding somewhat disappointed. "I'm sorry, sir. Did you want me to cancel that confirmation?" "No - not at all Julie. You've done exactly what I've always told you to do - keep the trucks moving. Just call me back within the hour and let me know of the other issues of my request." Twenty-seven minutes later, Julie called Donovan, "Sir, I have the information that you requested." "Okay. What do you have?" "Cleve is in York with a pickup, heading to Atlanta. From there, he has a pickup with a destination of Chicago, and then he…" Donovan interrupted his secretary. "Julie, I appreciate your specifics, but I don't need all the details. I just need to know whether all of the drivers have work for the weekend." "I'm sorry, sir. Yes, all of the drivers are booked until Tuesday of next week, except for Johnny. He is in layover at Birmingham." Donovan thought for a moment. "Is there anything going westward that Johnny can pick up, and bring to the Salt Lake City area?" "I looked into that, sir. But, the closest I can send Johnny is Amarillo." "Okay. Confirm the pickup and delivery from Birmingham to Amarillo. From there, send Johnny to Ogden for the pickup and delivery to Detroit." "But, if I were to do that sir, Johnny would be empty load all the way to Ogden." "Yes, I know Julie. But, I'm authorizing you to do so." "Yes sir." "I don't want you to book me a load from the Salt Lake City area until further notice." "Okay, sir. Is there something wrong?" "No, Julie. Nothing is wrong. I just need a little time away." "Yes sir." "What about the other issue?" Donovan requested. "Sir, if you're not already aware, Utah isn't one of the mass markets that the website has flourished. In fact, I could only locate seventeen customers within that market." "That's alright, Julie. Any first names of Brandon?" "No." She responded, feeling like she was stepping into a land mine area. "How about Paula?" "No sir." "Any 'Bravo' or 'Papa' names?" "Yes sir. There are three." "What are they?" "Let's see… there's a Brian Christensen, and a Brandy Olsen, and a Paul A. Tolman." Donovan thought for a moment, then requested, "Bring up the accounts of Brandy and Paul. Tell me the history." With efficiency, Julie clicked at her computer keyboard without effort, typing the names and retrieving the information as fast as the computer's hard drive and mainframe could respond. "As I can see, sir, Brandy became a member one month ago and has a mailing address city of Layton. Paul has been a member for approximately ten months, and has a mailing address city of West Jordan." Donovan thought a little more, "What city is closer to Salt Lake City?" Julie responded, "As I can see, sir, West Jordan is a suburban community of Salt Lake City, whereas Layton is a larger city within it's own geographic area, close to that city of Ogden." "What is the e-mail address of the Tolman membership?" As Julie responded to her boss's request, Donovan realized that he had located Brandon and all of Brandon's secrets. With satisfaction, Donovan ordered his secretary, "Retrieve all the account information of the Paul A. Tolman account and e-mail the results to me. I want the name of the member, the address of the member, and all of his account history including every date and time that he entered into the website." "Yes sir." Julie responded. "Is there anything else?" "Yes Julie, there is - I want you to think about your work ethics." "Sir?" Julie feared, quivering on the other end of the telephone line. "I want you to take the rest of the week off, with pay." "Are you serious?" Julie enlightened, tears of joy in her eyes. "Yeah - you deserve it. But you need to forward the office phone to your home so that the drivers and customers can communicate if necessary." "Yes sir!" Julie remarked, almost dancing on her desk. "You have a great weekend, too!" "I will, Julie. You enjoy yourself." "I will Mr. Webb. I thank you so much." Julie hung up the phone and immediately started working toward the requests of her very strict, yet passionate black boss. Though she was raised in the deeper South, and though her father and husband abhorred the thought of her working for a black man, Julie did as she was required, for she knew that Mr. Webb was a man of excellence. Though she was only twenty-seven years old, no other boss had treated her with so much respect and no other boss had given her so much responsibility as Mr. Webb had. She only wished that her white father and husband would give her the same respect. She only wished that her white husband was as successful as Mr. Webb. She only wished that her husband was as black as Donovan. She only wished that her husband's dick was as lengthy and…. Coming out of dream state, Julie completed the requirements of her boss's request and sent the information of his request to his e-mail address. -------------------------------------------------- It was an early Thursday morning, and Donovan had reviewed all of the information that his secretary had sent. He had read the information, and had been driving an empty load toward Salt Lake City, from Denver. Yet, though his trailer carried no weight, his mind was filled with heavy thoughts. Upon his arrival to Salt Lake City, Donovan wrote an e-mail to Brandon.