77 comments/ 297413 views/ 63 favorites She Did Me a Favor By: jack_straw I might be the first cuckold in the history of fucked-up matrimony to actually send his wife's lover a thank-you card. Honest. I really did. I'm almost never sick, but there was a particularly nasty strain of flu going around the office where I was working one Thursday morning, and I was showing the symptoms rather vocally, so rather than infect the whole room, my boss sent me home. It was around noon, and I figured my wife, Beth, could nurse me properly, get me the chicken soup I needed, take my temperature and generally fuss over me before putting me to bed. When I pulled onto the street where I lived and approached my house, I noticed a green pickup truck parked in the driveway. I really didn't think anything of it at that particular moment; I couldn't think of anything except how awful I felt. The vehicle wasn't familiar, and since it was taking up space where my beat-up SUV normally sat, I parked by the curb. I went in through the garage, which opened into the kitchen. There was no sign of Beth in the kitchen or the front den. At that point, a queasy feeling unrelated to the flu began to build in my gut, especially when I approached the back of the house, where our bedroom was located, and began to hear the telltale sounds of sex. I tiptoed toward the door, which was cracked ever so slightly, and peeked in. Well, of course, I saw Beth on her hands and knees with some slim fucker I'd never seen before kneeling behind her fucking her for all he was worth. And was she ever loving it. "OH GOD! FUCK ME WITH THAT BIG FAT COCK!" she wailed. "Come on! Give it to me!" "Unh! unh! unh!" the man grunted incoherently. I was looking at them from behind and they were so wrapped up in what they were doing that they didn't see the door crack open. I gazed in fascination as Beth's udders swung obscenely under her body, as her ample butt cheeks rippled with each incoming thrust. My reaction was strange. Part of me, obviously, wanted to go in there and break up their party. But another part of me was just numb. I should say here and now that I was NOT aroused. When you love someone for as long as I'd loved Beth, the sight of that person cheating on you is not a turn-on, if you're wired normally. And I was – and always had been – a person who took fidelity seriously. In the space of a heartbeat, the time it took Beth and her boyfriend to come violently, I had an epiphany, a moment of clarity when my future suddenly spread out before my eyes. I made a decision in that moment that my life was changing, for the better. I took out my cell phone, pushed the door open, raised the phone – with the camera mode on – and took about four really good pictures of the startled lovers. Having gotten visual evidence of my wife's adultery and that of her lover, I turned on my heel and walked briskly out of the house the same way I had entered. I stopped and grabbed a screwdriver on my way out of the garage, then casually used it to poke large holes in two of the tires on the asshole's truck. I know, it was childish, but it was the least I could do. Then I got in my SUV and drove off, though not before jotting down the license plate number of the pickup. It was the first day of the rest of my life. As I drove more or less aimlessly, I thought about what I'd just seen, and I realized that it had been brewing for a long time. I had no idea how long Beth had been cheating on me, whether this guy was the first or just another in a string. It didn't matter, because, truthfully, I didn't care. I guess at this point a little background is in order here. My name is Peter Thornhill, and at the time of this story I was 48 years old and had been married to Beth for exactly half that time. At one point, we were passionately in love. Indeed, it was almost love at first sight. We met not long after I graduated from college and started in with a major manufacturing company located in a mid-sized Midwestern city. I had been raised in western Nebraska, and I had hoped to find something closer to the mountains, where I had camped just about every year as a kid. Beth was from the city where we had lived the entirety of our married life. I honestly can't pin down when my marriage turned to shit. It was a very long, very slow decline that wouldn't have been noticeable to the outsider. But it was there, and I could sense it toward the end. We all have dreams, and mine was to live in the mountains and write the great American novel. I think Beth's big dream was simply to land a husband and raise a family there in her hometown. You know how dreams usually go. They fall apart on the rocky shoals of reality. And the reality for me was that I ended up stuck in this nondescript Midwestern burg writing computer programs for the same company I'd started with after college. I got to a certain point on the corporate ladder and then got lost as more ambitious men and women passed me by. Part of my problem was I wouldn't cut corners. I was a perfectionist where my work went, and I didn't suffer fools who took the easy way out. Another part of my problem was that I got to be so good at my particular job that I was indispensable in that position. As a result, I got passed over for promotions, although I did get regular raises and occasional bonuses. But the other part of my problem was that I had a fairly passive personality. I was content to go along to get along. And that extended to my marriage. Don't get me wrong; Beth was a nice-looking woman, with dark brown hair and an ample figure, and I had always loved her. She never quite lost all of the weight she gained having our two children, but I still thought she was sexy. And, apparently, so did someone else. We bought a house not long after we were married. It was in a decent neighborhood, but certainly not the high-rent district. The house was built in the 1960s and some of the things in the house hadn't been replaced in all that time. So we gradually replaced one appliance after the other, with no particular rhyme or reason, and we were always fixing this and patching that. We always talked about buying something better, but after refinancing the mortgage as collateral for loans a couple of times, we found we'd priced ourselves out of any chance of selling it. In other words, what it would have taken us to pay off the loan and get something better was more than the house was really worth. We could have sold it for less to someone as a fixer-upper, but that still wouldn't have solved the problem of finding someplace better to live that we could afford. And then there was the problem with our children. Three years into our marriage we had a son, Jason, four years later came a girl, Laura. These kids were the poster children for why adults in the animal kingdom sometimes eat their young. I tried to be a disciplinarian, as much as I could, but Beth's idea of discipline was to give them whatever they wanted. And she refused to let me spank them for any infraction whatsoever. The consequences were pretty drastic. Jason was lazy, disrespectful and slovenly; Laura was a neurotic nymphomaniac. They learned at an early age how to play Beth and me against each other to get what they wanted, and as a result, we lost control of them by the time they became teenagers. Jason was about to lose his sixth minimum-wage job since (barely) graduating from high school. Seems employers like for their workers to show up on time and in a reasonably presentable mode of attire. They're funny that way. He was living in a dumpy old house in town with three of his slacker buddies, and I was pretty sure he was – at the very least – smoking pot and drinking a lot. Laura was about to flunk out of high school altogether because she couldn't keep the MP3 player out of her ears long enough to pay attention to anything in class. She was also dating some scuzzy college guy with tattoos all up and down both arms. Beth was a nurse, and at some point in her career, she decided she liked the night shift. So on the days that she worked, I'd get home about 5:30, we'd sometimes have supper, then she'd leave for work around 6:15. As a result of our conflicting schedules, we spent less and less time interacting with each other, and our sex life began to dry up. Oh, we'd make time for each other once or twice a month, usually on a weekend afternoon when she was off. It was decent sex – there is no such thing as bad sex – but it was pretty vanilla. We'd get naked, feel each other up for a few minutes, I'd climb on top, we'd hump for about five minutes, I'd come, then I'd get her off with my hands. Once in a blue moon, Beth would get horny enough to want me to fuck her ass, and I cherished those all too rare moments. But as for oral sex, forget it. She didn't like the taste of my cock, or my mouth after I'd gone down on her. Still, we got along OK until about 18 months before this incident, when she started turning bitchy on me. She'd always been a little moody, but I guess when menopause hit, it hit her hard. Soon, she was finding excuses not to have sex – at least not with me. Maybe it was a headache, maybe she was tired, often she went to bed way before I was ready. Etc., etc., etc. And she was always finding fault in something I'd done, or not done. Looking back on it, the signs were there, I just didn't see them. I'd sometimes call the house during the days when I knew Beth should have been up and around, and I'd get no answer. Sometimes, she'd stop in for drinks with some co-workers at some all-night bar that catered to night-shift workers. A few times, she'd come home on weekends when she'd worked and immediately start a load of laundry, like she had something she wanted to wash before I could see it. Everything pointed up to Beth's adultery, but like I said, it really didn't matter. So let's review. I was stuck in a dead-end job in a nowhere town, I was living in a rundown house that was overpriced, my sex life was in the toilet, my bitchy wife was cheating on me and my children were budding delinquents. What would you do? Probably what I did. Actually, the very first thing I did was go to the walk-in clinic to see about my flu. I got a steroid shot and a prescription for an antibiotic. Feeling a little better, I went to Wal-Mart to have my prescription filled and to buy some things I'd need – toiletries, a hotplate, a small pot, some soup and sodas – then I drove all the way across town and got me a motel room. I had stopped at the bank on my way to Wal-Mart and gotten out some cash to pay for a place to stay for a couple of days. Once I got settled in, I sat down and wrote out a game plan for the next few days, while I heated a can of soup. I ate as much as I could take, put the rest in the mini-refrigerator, crawled in bed and crashed. It was dark when I awoke, and I was a little disoriented until I remembered where I was and why I was there. I was still weak from the flu and, really, I was too dazed by my illness and the shock of seeing Beth like that to really absorb what had happened. I heated up what was left of the soup, drank a Sprite and watched a football game on TV, then went back to bed. I did check my cell phone and saw a dozen calls from Beth. I smiled grimly at that. Let her sweat, I thought. I woke up the next morning feeling quite a bit better. The first thing I did was call the office to tell them I wasn't going to be in to work. My boss's secretary answered the phone, and after I told her why I'd called, she told me that Beth had called all afternoon hunting me. "She did, did she?" I said. "If she calls today, and I imagine she will, just tell her I've called in sick and won't be in today. That'll at least get her off your back." "Pete, where are you?" she asked. "Let me put it this way, and see if you can figure it out," I said. "I'm not at my house. OK?" Then I hung up. I had made it very plain, I thought, that I no longer had a home. I had thought a lot about my course of action, and the more I thought about it, the better I liked it. I really couldn't be mad at Beth. I mean, it was pretty obvious that she didn't want to be married to me any longer. For some reason, she wanted something I couldn't give her, whatever that was, and I wasn't going to hold her back from whatever it was that she wanted. She wanted to fuck other men? Fine. I'd give her the freedom to do so, and I'd free myself in the process. But I still had some work to do. There were going to be consequences for both Beth and her lover, nothing terribly drastic, but consequences nonetheless. The first thing I did was call the Motor Vehicle Department to tell them I was interested in buying a pickup truck, but I'd lost the owner's phone number. All I had was the license plate number, plus the make, model and color of the truck. The friendly woman on the other end of the line cheerfully gave me the man's name and address. My next move was to call a friend of mine who was a lawyer and obtained the name of the best divorce attorney in town. I called that worthy, a lady, as it happened, and scheduled an appointment for 1 o'clock that afternoon. I showered then, and went down to the lobby for a very light breakfast, then went to the bank. I had two certificates of deposit that I'd bought a number of years earlier. I cashed those in, withdrew half of the money in our joint savings account and half of what little there was in the checking account. I put most of the money in a new checking account that I opened in my name only, along with a bank debit card, and still walked out with a little over $4,000 in travelers checks. I spent the next few minutes calling credit-card companies to cancel all but one of my cards and have the accounts put in my name only. I also paid up the balances on each of those cards. The one I generously left for Beth I didn't bother paying on. Let her worry about that one. Next, I went to a branch of the public library, where I bought some computer time. I took the four images I'd taken on my cell phone, downloaded them onto an e-mail address I had and printed out two copies of each one. I have to admit, they were very clear and explicit. Then I looked up information on the fellow who'd been with my wife the previous afternoon, one Clark Slater. I found out he was married, so I jotted down his wife's name. Then I put a copy of the pictures with a note attached letting her know where I could be reached for more information and put them in an envelope with her name and address on it. I went to the post office, bought some stamps and mailed it to her. Then it was time for my appointment with Grace Shaw, the attorney. I told her what I'd done and what my plans were, and she just nodded her head when I showed her the pictures. Her first question, however, was one of caution. "Divorce seems like a pretty drastic step on such short notice," she said. "Are you sure you don't want to try to work it out?" "What's there to work out?" I said. "My wife has a lover, and I sure don't want to stand in the way of true love. I have some places I want to go, some things I want to do with my life, and staying here with a cheating slut wife isn't in those plans." In the end, I agreed to a legal separation, for 90 days. The divorce papers were drawn up, and if after three months, I was still determined to end my marriage, then the papers would be filed and Beth would be served. "Now, if you go forward with the divorce, what sort of settlement do you want?" Grace asked. "I've already taken half of the liquid cash in our bank," I said. "She's got a 403B that she's paying into from her work; she can keep that, but she also doesn't get any of my 401K, either. She can keep the house. The mortgage is in her name anyway, and I don't want it. If she does sell it, though, I want half of all proceeds from the sale." "OK, Mr. Thornhill, I guess that about covers it," Grace said. "I'll look forward to hearing from you in about three months." My last stop was to the office, but not to work. I walked into the Human Resources Department and asked about what would be involved in taking early retirement. I had 26 years in with the company, so I had a good bit of retirement built up. I was told I could begin drawing on my retirement pension when I turned 60, which was 12 years away. I frowned at that, but brightened when I asked about cashing in my 401K. Of course, the lady at HRD strongly discouraged that, because of the hefty tax penalty I'd have to pay. Nevertheless, if I wanted I could get an immediate cash-out of approximately $65,000, if I chose to do so. I thanked the lady, and headed back to my motel. I was tired, and after fixing another pot of chicken soup, I went to bed and slept for nearly seven hours. It was after midnight when I awoke, and I knew I now faced the hardest part of my day, going back to the house and collecting my things. Beth was supposed to be at work, but I wasn't sure if she'd actually gone in to work. As it turned out, she hadn't. Beth was asleep when I slipped in quietly, and the house was silent; apparently Laura was so concerned about my whereabouts that she'd gone out like she always did on Friday night. I wondered if the kids would even miss me when I was gone. Probably not. The first thing I did was get what I needed out of the garage: tools, camping gear and other assorted useful items. I went into the little office area and got my laptop, plugged it in and downloaded some files from the home PC onto the laptop, then carried it to my vehicle. I had a couple of boxes with me that I loaded with CDs, along with a portable player, a lot of books and some mementos that meant something to me, including a few pictures – though none of Beth. After I loaded that stuff up in my vehicle, I got some suitcases out and walked softly into my former bedroom. I was about halfway finished with packing when I heard a small gasp behind me, then Beth's voice. "Peter, where have you been?" she said. "I've been worried sick about you." "Have you now," I said, trying to keep the anger out of my voice. "What are you doing?" Beth said. "What's it look like I'm doing?" I answered sarcastically. "P-p-packing?" Beth said in a trembling voice. "Give that girl a gold star for brilliance," I said. "Peter, I'm so sor..." she started, when I stopped her. "Beth, I don't want to hear your excuses or your apologies," I said. "It really doesn't matter why or how, or even who, although I do know that much. You want to love someone else, fine, I'm letting you." "But I don't love him," she began, "I love you. I don't want him; I want you." "Could have fooled me," I said in an acidic tone of voice "Sounded to me like you wanted him pretty badly yesterday afternoon. Let me see if I can recall the exact words. 'Oh God, fuck me with your big fat cock.' Isn't that about it?" Beth just buried her face in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably. I looked at her evenly. Whatever brief flash of anger I'd had was gone, replaced by ... I'm not sure. Pity? No, not that. Disdain? Maybe a little. Disgust? Yeah, a bit. But mainly, I realized that the biggest thing I was feeling was emptiness. I realized in that moment that I didn't have any feelings for her whatsoever. I just didn't care any more. I finished packing and let her sob into her pillow. It wasn't until I started out the bedroom door with the suitcases that she jumped off the bed and tried to stop me. "Wait!" Beth cried. "Don't leave me, Pete, please. Can't we work this out? Please? I'm sorry, it wasn't anything; it was just sex." I just stared at her silently as I carefully extricated myself from her clinging arms and walked to the front of the house. Beth followed me, sobbing hysterically. I pointed out the notice of legal separation sitting on the kitchen table, among the dirty remnants of that night's pizza dinner. She Did Me a Favor "I'll be back in three months, mid-December," I said. "If I'm still thinking then like I am now, I'm following through on a divorce. I will let you know, generally, where I am, but I'm leaving and I'm not sure yet where I'm going to be. Goodbye, Beth, I'll see you around." "PETE, NO!" Beth cried as I walked out the front door with my suitcases. I didn't look back as I climbed in my vehicle and headed back across town to my motel room. The next day was Saturday, so I slept in. When I got going, I packed up what I had in the motel room and checked out. At $85 a night, the motel was a little steep, and there was a place near my office that catered to visiting business people. They had long-term rates that were considerably cheaper than the average motel. For approximately $45 a night, I rented a clean room for two weeks that had a nice little kitchenette, Internet cable access and a large television that had pay-per-view porn movies – if I was so inclined. I did sample the sexy wares being offered on the TV, but mostly I kicked back and engorged myself on football all weekend, doing absolutely nothing else, then went to work the next Monday morning. The first thing I did was walk into my boss's office and hand him my letter of resignation, effective in two weeks. Needless to say, everyone at the office was stunned. I'd been there so long, and in the same job, that I guess I'd become part of the landscape. My boss, for one, was in a panic. He spent the whole two weeks trying to talk me out of retiring, but I was adamant. On Tuesday of the first week, I got a call from my daughter. It was a rather enlightening conversation. "Daddy, why are you leaving us?" Laura asked. "You'll have to ask your mother that," I replied. "She said to ask you," Laura said. "OK," I said. "Thursday afternoon, I caught her in bed with some other man. I was sick with the flu, took off work early and there she was. I've got the pictures to prove it." "Wow!" Laura said. "I didn't think she had it in her. Well, that explains why she's been so weepy. Daddy, she's a basket case. She just sits around crying and cursing herself. You know she called in sick all three days this weekend." "Look, tell your mother to get a grip on herself," I said through clenched teeth. "If she thinks she can guilt-trip me into coming back to her, she's very mistaken. I've already put in for my retirement, and a week from Saturday, I'm out of here. After that, what she does, what you do and what your derelict brother do are none of my concern." "Well, shit, I love you too ... Dad," Laura cried. "Hey, you never gave a flying fuck about me before now, why should you start now?" I said. "You're just afraid the gravy train's fixing to roll out of the station." "That's not true," Laura said a little pensively. "We ... I need you. You're the only one in this house with any sense, and I don't know what's going to happen without you." "Oh, I'm sure you'll manage," I said. "Look, Laura. I'm sorry about what I said. That was mean of me. I'll be in touch, and I'll be home for Christmas. OK? I love you. Really." "I know, Daddy," she said with a sniffle. "I love you too." Jason never did call. I had a pretty busy two weeks. Beth tried to call any number of times, but after I hung up on her a few times, she got the message that I didn't want to talk to her. Her friends from work tried to get me to at least see her, but I refused, and I said so in pretty harsh terms. Turns out Clark Slater was a nurse up in the unit where Beth worked, and they'd had been fucking around together for about six months. Most everyone I talked to said they thought he was the only one she'd stepped out on me with, but they didn't know for sure. I very pointedly told all of them how much I appreciated them telling me what my wife was doing behind my back. They didn't have much to say after that. I got a call in the middle of the first week from Clark Slater's wife, and apparently, Beth wasn't the first nurse – married or otherwise – he'd been able to tap. But Beth was going to be the last, at least while he was her husband, because I had finally given her the solid proof she needed to show him the door. Funny, but I never heard from Clark, either about Beth or his ruined tires. I had an awful lot to do before I left my work behind. I had to train someone who could handle my job until they hired a full-time replacement. I had to get my 12-year-old vehicle serviced. I had to scout around for a broker who could set up my 401K in a private account. And I had to get with HRD about my severance pay and cashing in my remaining sick time. I spent most of my down time watching TV, fooling around on my laptop or shopping for things I would need when I left town. I also visited a few of my friends, all of whom expressed their disbelief that Beth really would cheat on me. All too soon, the second Friday arrived, my last day of work, and with it came a little sense of regret. I'd put in 26 years at that company, and I'd made a lot of friends there. At lunch that day, my boss called our department together and we had a little retirement party, and that's when I finally lost my composure. I was trying to give a little thank-you speech when I suddenly broke down and cried, the first time I'd cried over anything in years. I wept both because I was leaving and because of the circumstances that had driven me to my decision to retire. I had kept myself so busy over the previous two weeks that I hadn't given myself a chance to let out the emotions over Beth's betrayal, and seeing my colleagues gathered in my honor was just too much for me to overcome. But I got over it pretty quick, especially when Marci Glover came over to me and invited me to an after-work gathering with a few of them at Chili's. Of course, I said yes, even though I made it clear that I don't drink. Marci was a fellow computer geek, but she was a damn good-looking geek. She was in her early 30s, a tall, blonde divorcee with a 10-year-old daughter who was spending the weekend with her father. And as she told me that, she gave me a very smoky look. I'll admit, that kind of confused me. I mean, I'm not bad looking; in fact, I look considerably younger than my years. But stud-muffin I'm not, or at least I didn't think I was. I'm a little shorter than average, about 5-foot-9, I wear glasses, I have a little bit of a belly and while I'm no weakling, I'm no fitness freak, either. But I was about to find out that I had more sex appeal than I'd ever imagined. There was a group of seven, three women and two men besides Marci and myself, and for once in my life, I was the man of the hour. We sat for several hours drinking beer – well, I had tea – and told stories about the plant, about the town, about each other. In the midst of the festivities, we also took time to have dinner. As the night wore on, I was sitting next to Marci and it became rather obvious that she was coming on to me. She was sitting real close, putting her hand on my thigh, or on my arm. I couldn't decide whether she was just doing that because she was drunk or whether she was serious. Finally, about 9 o'clock, we started drifting our separate ways. I wanted to get an early start the next day, and got up to leave. Then I looked over at Marci and I saw that she really shouldn't drive home, so I offered her a ride. After getting hugs and handshakes wishing me well, I walked Marci out to my Explorer. When we got in, she moved in real close to me, put her hand on my thigh and gave me a penetrating look. "I'm really not all that drunk," Marci said. "I just wanted you to give me a ride, and not home, either." "So, where do you want me to take you?" I said, deliberately playing dumb. "Take me to your motel," she said, and she pulled my face around and kissed me hard and deep. "Marci, you don't have to do this," I said when we broke apart. "I mean, yeah, I'm lonely, but I don't want any sympathy." "Sympathy's got nothing to do with it," she said. "Pete, I've had the hots for you ever since I started to work there, and I've finally got a chance. I'm not passing it up." "You've had the hots for me?" I said. "Come on, Marci, look at me. I'm a fat, gray-haired old man." "A fat, gray-haired old man with a nice big cock," Marci said, running her hands over the swelling bulge in my pants. "In the first place, you're not fat. In the second place, your hair makes you look sexy. In the third place, you've very good-looking. And in the fourth place, you're one of the nicest men I know. You're one of the few men in that building who's never made a pass at me, or any of the other gals, for that matter. Trust me, we've noticed. You've always been a gentleman." "I've always been a married gentleman," I said, with just a trace of bitterness. "Look, you're going off tomorrow, and you deserve some TLC before you go," Marci said. "Now, are you going to take me back to your motel and fuck me or not?" I laughed then and started up my vehicle. Truth is, I'd had many a fantasy about Marci Glover, but I always figured she was out of my league, and besides, I was a married man who believed in fidelity. Technically, I guess I was still married, but I was already legally separated and in my heart I knew my marriage was over. Marci Glover was offering me her body served up on a platter, and I'd be damned if I was going to pass it up. We were all over each other the moment the door to my room closed, kissing wildly, our hands caressing each other's bodies. In no time at all, I was feasting my eyes on Marci's slender body as she sat back naked on the bed. Her tits were just about perfect, plump enough to hang nice and pretty on her chest without sagging. Her butt was firm and she had a clean-shaved pussy that was dripping wet. I slid two fingers into her pie as I climbed on the bed and kissed her feverishly, my cock like an iron bar. But I knew what I wanted, at least initially, and I quickly had Marci on her back with her legs spread and my mouth on her cunt. I swirled my tongue around in her hole, lapping up the flow of juice that boiled out to cover my mouth. I licked her like a dog, rolling my tongue around her clit, sucking on her sex like I was giving mouth-to-mouth resuscitation and generally making a pig of myself. Marci was panting and gasping as I brought her to a rapid climax. "Oh, God, Pete," she wailed. "Your moustache feels sooooo gooood on my clit. Keep ... on ... doing that." I actually felt her cunt start to palpitate as she arched her back, caught her breath then trembled in a terrific orgasm. "Jesus, Pete," she panted. "Come on up here and fuck me, big boy." I was ready to do just that. It had been over a week since I'd let myself come, and then only in my own hands, so I was in need. I got up on my knees between Marci's widespread legs, aimed my cock at her drooling hole and slid right on in. For a few seconds, it felt weird to put my dick in a pussy that didn't belong to Beth, but that feeling passed and I quickly set up in a brisk back-and-forth rhythm as I lay across Marci's sweaty body. It was different, however. Marci was a lot more active than Beth had been, at least with me, and her pussy was considerably tighter, with less-pronounced labia. I took note of those differences in passing, as I churned my cock in Marci's body. We held each other as we worked together for our mutual pleasure. I could see on Marci's face that she was building toward another climax, and I was getting close too. As I hurtled toward my orgasm, I whispered something in Marci's ear, and she gave a throaty laugh. "Honey, you can do anything you want to me," she said. "Especially that." I smiled as I picked up the pace, until Marci's body stiffened, and she threw her head back in pleasure. I felt the cum boil over in my scrotum, and a second before I came, I jerked my cock out, slid my body over Marci and exploded in a huge cumshot all over her face. Marci gasped and squealed as I laid two thick ropes of semen over each eye and either side of her nose. I hosed her forehead, shot a wad in her hair then finished by stuffing my cock in her mouth to shoot the last few drops down her throat. She looked up at me hotly as she sucked the last of my cum from my cock, rolling her tongue over the head. I fell back on the bed and gazed as Marci sat up, showing me her cum-streaked face. Then she carefully, seductively, scooped as much of my cum off her face with her fingers as she could, licking off my juice with a relish that sent a shiver up and down my spine. "Thanks," I said. "Beth would never let me do that. She thought it was demeaning." "I can see where some women might think that," Marci said. "Personally, I love it. It is so hot, so sexy, to watch a man shoot his cum on my face. I think it's a sign that he thinks I'm nasty, which I am ... in certain situations." We lay back on the bed and rested, then I fucked her again, this time a little more leisurely. I finished with Marci on her knees fucking her doggy-style, and after I came, we fell asleep together. We fucked one final time with the pale light of dawn filtering through the drapes, then we got up, showered and dressed. Marci helped me pack, then I checked out and drove her back to where he car was parked. Before she left, she gave me a very soft kiss, then she stared into my eyes. "Pete, all I can say is your wife's an idiot," she said. "She doesn't know what she's thrown away." "Well, I guess sometimes you get used to someone, and get in a rut," I said. "I probably let things slide too much from my side. You know how it goes." "Yeah, I guess I do," Marci said. "Pete, I hope you find what you're looking for, but if you ever decide to come back here for any length of time, look me up. I guarantee I'll treat you a hell of a lot better than Beth did." "Thanks, Marci," I said. "I'll stay in touch. You never know what's gonna happen. You take care, OK?" "You too," she said. "You be careful." And with that I was off. I put my vehicle on the interstate headed west and I didn't look back. I was headed off alone to travel the country with no plans, no itinerary, no agenda. I had some places out west I wanted to see, some things I wanted to do, but I had no particular schedule. I would go wherever my nose led me. It was something I'd wanted to do for years, but had never been able to do. Either I couldn't afford it, I had family concerns or work concerns. Now I had none of those things holding me back. My first destination, however, was my old hometown. I wanted to spend a few days with my folks, who were starting to get on up in years, and I wanted to see some old friends. I ended up seeing one I hadn't counted on, and it was a delicious experience. My parents were disappointed to hear that Beth and I were splitting up, but my mom also said she wasn't surprised. "She just hasn't seemed very happy the last few times you've been here," Mom said. The following Monday, I was in the supermarket picking up some supplies for my trip, when I heard my name being called. I looked around and a big smile creased my face as I saw a wet dream from my past. It was Dolores Valdez, a curvy chick that I went to school with. She was actually a year behind me, but we'd always seemed to have a class or two together every year, and we got to be friendly. At the time, Dolores was a hot number who was a little too fast for me, but time had slowed her down a little bit. She had learned the hard way that the fast life wasn't always the good life. But time had still been generous to her, because she was still a stone beauty. If anything, age had made her better looking than when she was in high school, softening her features and adding a little padding in strategic places. She was little shorter than average with thick, dark hair, expressive brown eyes and a body that was all tits and ass. She had moved back to town after divorcing her second husband, and was an assistant manager at the store. She lived alone in a small house in a quiet neighborhood not far from her daughter's family. We chatted for a few minutes, getting caught up with our lives. When I told her I was divorcing my wife, her eyes lit up. "I'm off tomorrow," she said in an inviting tone of voice. "How would you like to have dinner with me?" "I'd love to," I said. "Any place in particular?" "How about my place?" she said. "It's been awhile since I fixed dinner for a man, especially an old friend like you." I arrived at Dolores' place about 7 'clock the next night to find her dressed in a tight red dress with spaghetti straps and her face quite tastefully made up. The dress was tight enough across her chest that it supported her tits, but it did nothing to hide the indentation her fat nipples were making in the dress' material. My younger brother, who lives nearby, had given me a Viagra pill when I told him who I was seeing. He said I was going to need it, and it looked like he was right. I entered her small, but tidy little house and was assaulted by the aroma of enchiladas cooking in the oven and other assorted Mexican treats being prepared for dinner. I was about to discover that Dolores was a terrific cook, but I also learned that she was a skilled conversationalist. While waiting for dinner to finish cooking, we sat in her living room, real close, and got caught up with each other's lives. She was very understanding about what had happened to me, but also about what had happened to Beth. Dolores had wrecked her first marriage by cheating, but her second marriage had fallen apart because her husband was cheating, so she was able to give me some insights from both sides of the fence. It didn't make me feel any better about it, but it did help. Dinner was something special – enchiladas, tostados, rice and the best flan I've ever tasted in my life. "How do you stay as slim as you do when you cook like this?" I asked as I pushed my bloated belly away from the table. "Oh, I only cook like this on special occasions," Dolores said with a laugh. "If I ate like this every day I'd be as wide as I am tall." We retired to the front room then and sat real close on the couch again. We talked for a bit, getting around to why she'd invited me over that night. "Because I wanted to do something I never got a chance to do when we were in high school," she said. "You were always so nice, so cute, so sexy, but I knew I could never have you then. Mama and Papa wouldn't have approved of me dating an Anglo. You know, it's very ironic, very sad. They had no problem with me fucking around with all these cholos, these gangbangers, as long as they were Mexican. But a nice white boy? Forget it." "But you don't have that problem now, do you," I said as I brought my face real close to hers. We kissed then, and I lost myself in her full lips and active tongue. Dolores was acting like a hungry woman, a woman who hadn't had any in awhile, which amused me. She got a little teary when I asked her how long it had been since she'd had a man. "Too long," she said. "When I came back here I made a vow that I wasn't going to let my past trip me into stupid relationships, but memories die hard in a small town. If I had five dollars for every time I've been propositioned in the past year by somebody I went to school with, I wouldn't have to work. That's why this is so special for me. You never looked down on me back in the old days, and you'd have never made an improper advance if I hadn't invited you here. I know you. You wouldn't." "Doesn't mean I wouldn't have thought it," I said with a chuckle. "Believe me, Dolores, I shot a lot of cum back in high school imagining myself fucking you." She Did Me a Favor For some reason that just melted her, because she whispered something in Spanish and then she was all over me, kissing me deeply and working her hands over my body. She quickly got my sweater off, and the T-shirt I had under it, then attacked my pants. In less time than it takes to write this, I was naked on her sofa and Dolores was standing in front of me unzipping her dress. It fell to the floor and I know I stared in utter reverence. Her glorious tits stood out like small torpedoes, capped by fat areolas and long, stiff nipples. But what absolutely riveted me to the sofa and made my cock spring to immediate life was the space between her legs. Dolores Valdez had the thickest, prettiest pubic bush I've ever encountered on a woman. It was dark, like the hair on her head, and it spread from her abdomen all the way to her butt. Not only did it frame her juicy pussy like a portrait, but it gave her pink rosebud a nice border. The whole effect was enhanced by the garter belt and hose she was wearing, and the heels she still had on. I idly stroked my throbbing cock as she leaned over and offered me her tits. I figured my cock would be OK long enough for me to enjoy Dolores' breasts. I reached up and fondled the hanging globes, twirled her nipples between my fingers then brought them to my mouth and suckled her like a baby. Dolores gasped then moaned as I worked her tits with my hands and my mouth. After a few minutes of acute breast worship, I slid a hand down between her legs and stroked her wet pussy. It was steaming, and her clit was already red and exposed. On a hunch, I got my fingers nice and juicy then slipped them further back and circled her asshole. Bingo! Dolores growled in pleasure and ground her crotch to my hand while she leaned further over and kissed me frantically. "I want you there," she said lustfully, and I wasn't going to argue, because I wanted her there too. But first, she wanted me in her pussy. She was ready to come, and I was ready to give her a fucking she'd never forget. Dolores straddled my hips on the couch while I held my cock straight upright. I sort of wiggled it around in her hole until I found the right spot and we came together almost like we'd been doing it forever. She slid down on me and I thrust up into her, and within the first few strokes she had her head thrown back in wanton ecstasy. "Ah yeah, baby, good cock," she panted as her climax came to a quick crescendo. "Good lover." Hearing that kind of praise from a woman like Dolores, on top of the experience with Marci, was a real boost to my ego, reaffirming that I had plenty of gas left in my tank, no matter what Beth might have thought. We worked like a machine as Dolores began to jerk and moan in her rampant climax, ending with a sharp cry as she crashed over the top. As I felt her body shudder, I reached behind her and slid one finger from each hand between her butt cheeks. I managed to gather enough of our commingled juices on my fingers to rim her little browneye. Dolores kissed me wildly then, and whispered in my ear that she wanted me to fuck her ass now. I grinned from ear to ear as I lifted her off my body and rolled out from under her. She was leaning over the sofa, head down and buns up. I just marveled at the succulent ass that was about to be at my disposal. A lot of black guys I know say most white men don't appreciate a nice, wide booty, and that may be true in most cases. But right then I understood what they meant, because Dolores had a butt that any black man would drool over. It was just plump enough to be meaty, but it was firm. I shook myself out of my reverie and reached a hand between her legs and smeared a generous helping of pussy juice over her anus and slowly let my middle finger penetrate her sphincter. Dolores gasped then growled as I began to slowly finger-fuck her ass. I gradually picked up speed, then eased a second finger in there and started to open her up a little more. I was captivated by the way her wisps of hair defined the target area as I worked a third finger in her butt. She couldn't stand it. "Holy fuck, Pete!" she cried. "Fuck it, fuck my ass. I want you in my ass. Now!" Never let it be said that I don't give a hot woman what she wants. I held my cock at the base and swirled the head around the entrance to her pussy, just to get a little more lubricant on me. When I was satisfied that my cock was juicy enough, I lifted myself up and pressed the head to her anus and slowly pushed. It didn't take long before I popped past her tight ring and slid all the way into her ass. As I did, I cried out at the exquisite feeling of Dolores' ass enveloping my cock, and Dolores screamed in absolute rip-roaring passion. She hurled her butt back to get as much of my iron rod in her ass as I possibly could, and she was foaming at the mouth in a steady stream of unintelligible Spanish gibberish. I gripped her butt hard and gave her what she obviously wanted, a really hard reaming. As I fucked Dolores' ass with a runaway lust, I reached under her body and squeezed her tits. That lit the fuse on another convulsive climax, as Dolores rolled her head around in a sexual frenzy. I was getting closer and closer to a meltdown, and I increased my pace to a peak. Just about the time Dolores was ripped by another orgasmic twitter, I felt something like nails explode out the end of my cock as I came deep in her bowels. I flooded Dolores' backside with a staccato burst of cum that quickly oozed out from around the base of my cock. I pumped her full of semen until I was finally drained, then I pulled my cock out and felt a chill roll through me at the way her anus stayed open for a couple of seconds and the way cum flowed out of her gaping hole. Then I collapsed onto her back and gave a laugh of utter contentment. That moment was the first time I thought about thanking Clark Slater for setting the events in motion that had led me to that point. Thanks to Clark, and his tawdry affair with my wife, I was free of my comfortable, but boring life in a nowhere town. I was free of an increasingly loveless marriage and a chaotic family life in a decaying house. I was free of a job that had long since ceased to challenge me in a large corporation where I was lost in the shuffle. I was free to go anywhere, do anything and fuck anyone I wanted, and I couldn't have done that with a clear conscience had I not caught my wife and her lover in the act of adultery. After catching our breath, Dolores and I retired to her oversized bathtub, one of the few extravagances she'd indulged herself since returning to town, where we spent a long time bathing each other in between kissing and licking and sucking. We ended up fucking again right there in the bathtub, then retired to her bed and fucked again before we finally passed out from well-sated exhaustion. I spent the next day visiting with my family, then I set out in earnest the following day. As I drove, I reflected that it had been exactly three weeks since I'd caught Beth and Clark, three weeks that had completely changed my life. This trip was the first step in living my new life. Over the next three months, I wandered the western half of the country, seeing places I had only read about. My first stop was Mt. Rushmore, then I spent a couple of days exploring the site of the Battle of Little Bighorn. I walked the grounds and communed with the ghosts of Custer and the Seventh Cavalry, and with those of Crazy Horse and his warriors. After that, I drove to Jackson Hole and camped out for a week and a half while I toured Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons. I had to laugh when I got my first look at the Tetons, thinking that the Frenchies who named them must have been awfully hard up to see women's breasts in those jagged peaks. From there, I drove up to spend some time in northern Idaho, camping on the banks of Lake Pend Orielle. I had been there once before, when I was a teenager at a Boy Scout Jamboree in 1969. In fact, my fellow scouts and I were among the few Americans who didn't see the first moon landing because we were camped well away from televisions. While I was there, I fished the lake and hiked the trails, enjoying the cool mountains of the northern Rockies. When I awoke one morning in late October to three inches of snow on the ground, however, I knew it was time to move on to more temperate climes. I went to Seattle, then down the Pacific coast through Oregon to spend some time in the Napa Valley – and yes, I did sample some of the excellent wine that the area produces – before going to Yosemite for several days. After that, I visited an aging aunt and uncle in the Los Angeles area, and he helped me achieve a long-held desire to see Southern Cal play UCLA in the Rose Bowl, one of the truly big rivalries in college football at one of the most historic stadiums in the country. I also took a day to spend at the beach in Venice, getting an eyeful of all the California hardbodies that hang out there wearing very little. I was in a gift shop across the street from the beach when I saw a postcard and got the wicked idea of sending one to my wife and her lover. It showed four very nubile, very scantily clad babes together with the heading that read, "Greetings From Venice Beach." I wrote a note on each one thanking them for fucking around on me, so I could take this trip. Then I sent one to the house for Beth and one to the hospital for Clark. That was the weekend before Thanksgiving, and it was time for me to get to where I really wanted to go. My best friend from high school lived in Durango, Colo., a beautiful mountain town not far from the Four Corners. He and his wife had started a small business and they needed someone to help with computer marketing and other cyber-arts. It was perfect for me. He owned a small house that he'd been using as a rental property where I could stay, and he offered a flexible work schedule that would allow me the freedom to go wherever I wanted whenever I wanted. I had spent a lot of spare time on the road doing a lot of writing, and I had the makings of a pretty good book. I simply wrote about myself and my trip and why I was doing it, along with other pertinent reflections. Once I completed my business with Beth and settled in Colorado, I'd have time to polish my work. It was all about the changes in a middle-aged life as a result of one disastrous event. I didn't know it that Monday when I headed east toward Colorado, but my life was about to change again, in a completely unexpected way. I had been in Durango a couple of days when Chris, my friend Kyle's wife, announced that she had invited a friend of hers over the share Thanksgiving dinner with us. This woman lived alone, Chris said, and didn't socialize much, but Chris hated the thought of someone being alone on Thanksgiving, so she had extended the invitation and it had been accepted. Funny how life pivots on little decisions like that. Maybe I would have met Maureen McDermott anyway, once I moved to Durango. But who knows what might have happened in the interim? Perhaps she'd have decided to move on, or maybe someone else would have swooped in and knocked her off her feet. I don't know. All I do know is that when Maureen walked through the door of Kyle and Chris' house, my stomach did a shimmy, and before the day was out I was determined that I was going to make her mine. I saw a woman in her mid-30s who was quite tall, at nearly six feet, and slender, but not bony. She had a pale complexion peppered with freckles, flaming red hair cut very short, and soft green eyes that were an enchanting blend of mischief and sadness. And when she opened her mouth to speak, it sounded like a symphony of leprechauns. Yes, she was a full-blooded native of Ireland who had come to the States with an Irish dance troupe, one of these Riverdance groups, and had settled in Denver. She had moved to Durango about a year earlier after breaking off an engagement to be married two days before the wedding. Seems she had caught her groom-to-be at his bachelor party in the act of fucking a stripper who had been hired for the night. She hadn't intended on crashing his party, but she and a couple of her girlfriends had been on their way to breakfast after their hen party when she happened to pass a strip club and saw her fiancé and his group coming out. One of the girls from the club was wrapped around her betrothed, and she had decided to follow them to see what happened. It had been an emotionally scarring event, one more blow in a life that had seen plenty of them. Her father had been an alcoholic who beat her mother until they fled him when Maureen was 15, after he'd started beating on her. Even then, she said, her father stalked them relentlessly until the police finally stepped in and he was charged and convicted of spousal abuse. She'd subsequently been raped when she was on holiday in London when she was 22, and she'd had her heart broken several times after that, culminating in her fiancé's betrayal. I think the reason we hit it off so well was because we understood what betrayal was all about. Over the previous weeks of traveling, I had thought a lot about Beth and what she'd done, and I couldn't get past the inconsistency of her protestations of love for me with the image of her in bed with another man. She had betrayed me and our marriage, and I didn't have a clue as to why. I had been telling myself all along that I didn't care, but that wasn't entirely true. I did care. I wanted to know what had happened to the love we'd once shared, why Beth had felt she was entitled to take a lover on the side, knowing how I felt about fidelity. I did keep up with what was going on back home, mostly through e-mails to and from Laura, who seemed to have decided at this late date to repair our relationship. She was plainly worried about Jason, who had indeed lost his job and was begging Beth to let him move back in. I spoke to Beth a couple of times, briefly, but whenever she started to get weepy or tried to apologize, I cut her off. I did promise her that I would sit down and listen to her when I got back. It wasn't going to change anything, but I wanted to hear what she had to say. Nothing was going to change my mind by then. I had made my decision on what I wanted, and I wanted to live in Durango. As a result, I spent three weeks getting settled in my new home and helping Kyle and Chris with their business. And I was spending a lot of time with Maureen. We talked long and deep Thanksgiving night, about everything, to Chris' amazement and delight, and when I walked with her out to her car, we sort of looked at each other and we kissed. There wasn't a lot of passion in it, but there was a lot of promise. Over the three weeks I was there before I returned home – or, rather, my soon-to-be former home – we dated probably a dozen times, and we got more and more intimate. I knew I had to be careful because of Maureen's past. She had been hurt badly by men, and she was wary of being hurt again. But the more I got to know her, the more I realized that despite her history, she was a woman with a hot-blooded nature. She was a dynamite kisser, with lips that were just full enough to enjoy and a tongue that knew what it was doing. Waiting was excruciating, because the more time I spent with Maureen, the more I wanted her. She was so sexy, so sensual and, yes, so needy, but I understood her need to be cautious, and I respected her desire to take it slow. My patience was rewarded the weekend before I was scheduled to head back to finish my business with Beth. Kyle and Chris wanted me to get a real taste of Colorado, so they planned a four-day ski trip. There's a nice ski resort right outside Durango, and Purgatory is real close, but they wanted me to enjoy the whole ski experience. So they pulled some strings with a friend of theirs in the real estate business who helped us get a nice two-bedroom condo at Telluride, about 70 miles away. I was having dinner with Maureen one night a few days before we were to leave, when the subject of the trip came up, and she asked what she should bring. I just kind of stared at her, and she gave me a Mona Lisa smile. "You knew I was going, didn't you?" she said. "I was hoping, but I didn't know if it was my place to invite you or not," I said. "You know the condo only has two bedrooms." "And that's a problem how?" she said, smiling a little wider. "Are you sure?" I said, taking her hands and looking deep into her eyes. "Very sure," she said. "I knew you were the one I've been looking for all my life the first time I met you. I know you, know your heart. You're a good man, Pete, and you deserve to be happy. I think I can make you happy." Did she ever. We drove up to Telluride on a cold, clear Thursday morning. The early winter snows had been heavy in the high country, so we figured the skiing would be good, and it was. I had been skiing once before, a long time before, when a group of us from college spent a week at Vail. Maureen had been once before the previous season with Kyle and Chris. Despite that limited experience, Maureen and I took the one-day ski school that was recommended before we tackled the slopes on our own. Once we'd been taught the basics, she and I had a blast going up and down the mountain. We prudently stayed away from the black slopes, the expert trails, but we did try a few of the blue trails, the intermediate slopes, and found we could handle them with a fair bit of skill. It was bracing to spend the time out on the mountain with a woman I grown to care about quite intensely. I wasn't sure yet if I was in love, or if she was in love with me, but we liked each other a lot, and we were comfortable in each other's company. We ended that first day sore and tired, but it was a good kind of soreness and a pleasant tiredness that comes from having a lot of fun. The four of us ended up at a nice, modestly priced restaurant for our post-ski dinner, and we toasted our rapidly cementing partnership, in every sense of the word. When we got back to the condo, I showered, then sat back on the large waterbed with a book I'd been reading while Maureen took a long bath. I was toying with the idea of joining her, but decided not to be pushy. I wanted her to make the first move. I'm glad I did. She came in the bedroom smelling like peach blossoms, clad in a long, moderately heavy robe. She stood just inside the door and smiled at me. Slowly, she undid the sash of the robe and let the sides fall open. "See anything you like?" she said, her soft Irish brogue sounding ever so sexy. I just nodded as I feasted my eyes on Maureen's tall, trim body. My God, she had a flat stomach, legs that seemed to go forever, beautiful little A-cups on her chest and a thick, but nicely trimmed thatch of hair between her legs that matched the flaming color of the hair on her head. I rolled off the bed and walked up to her, my cock leading the way as it tented my sweatpants. I let my hands softly caress her body as we came together and kissed slowly, with a smoldering passion that was steadily mounting. It was like we were in a dream world as I softly slid my hands over her stiff pink nipples while she pulled my T-shirt off and lowered my pants to free my cock. I slipped the robe off her shoulders and we stood together naked, our eyes signaling our approval of what we saw. We walked to the bed then and lay back, our bodies sliding together. Like magnets, our hands quickly found each other's sex. I slipped my hands between the dewy lips of her pussy while she softly stroked my rampant cock. Unlike my two previous encounters, with Marci and Dolores, I didn't feel the urgency, the need to get on with business. We sensed, instead, that we had all the time in the world to explore each other, to love each other. She Did Me a Favor We kissed again, and this time when we broke apart, Maureen gently pushed me on my back then started kissing and licking her way down my neck to my chest, pausing to lick and nibble on my rock-hard nipples before continuing her way down my stomach. Eventually, she was laid out flat between my legs, my cock hot and hard in her hand. She stared at me, boring her sparking green eyes into mine as she gave my cock a slow, loving tongue bath. When she had every bit of my throbbing shaft covered with her saliva, she slowly opened her mouth and drew me in. Our eyes remained locked together as she slowly sank my cock into her mouth, until she had about half of it, then she started working. Up and down, she moved her mouth on my dick, her tongue a dervish as she gave herself to me. When I was younger, before I met Beth, I had fucked a few girls who could actually suck me to the root. Maureen couldn't do that, but she still gave me the best blowjob I've ever had in my life. It was so slow, so sensual, so erotic, the way she used her lips to apply just the right amount of pressure to drive me utterly wild, the way she used her tongue to excite every nerve ending I had down there. I might have been content to let her finish me with her mouth, but not then. I wanted to love this woman completely, so I gently pried her mouth away from my cock and pulled her up to me. We kissed again, this time with more passion then I rolled her onto her back and got up on my knees. As long as I live, I'll never forget my first sight of Maureen McDermott waiting expectantly for sex. She lay back on that bed, her eyes misty with lust, her legs open and inviting. I slowly ran the head of my cock between her juicy lips and I was rewarded by a soft gasp, her mouth open in want. Gently, I aimed the head of my cock to Maureen's opening, and as I leaned over to gather her in my arms, I slowly, but steadily drove my cock into its new home. "Ohhhh," she panted softly as I started fucking her at a deliberate pace. Maureen is not a particularly vocal lover, so I quickly learned to pick up the little sighs, the soft gasps and the muted cries that signaled her mounting arousal. But if she didn't react in a very vocal way, she sure made up for it in body language. From the very first moment I entered her, Maureen's hips were moving in a sultry pattern, her legs were working feverishly around my butt and up the small of my back and her arms drew me into a circle of lust. I could see her eyes closed in reverence, her lips moving wordlessly and I felt her body begin to tremble as her climax came to a head. I wanted to get there together, and as our mouths met in a furious lip lock, I started to pick up my pace, drilling my cock in her tight hole faster and harder. I could tell Maureen was getting close from the way her legs wrapped themselves tightly around my back, the way sweat broke out all over her body, lending a slickness to our lust that sent us soaring even higher. I couldn't hold back much longer, and I didn't have to. I felt Maureen's body tense up, soft but insistent gasps escaping her lips as her orgasm washed through her body in cathartic waves. As I felt her fingernails dig into the skin on my shoulders, I felt my scrotum lurch violently, and with a sharp cry I fell on top of my new love and spewed a volcano of cum deep into her womb. We were clutching at each other, kissing each other wildly as we spent our passion on each other. It seemed like I was never going to stop, but eventually I did, and it seemed like we gave a collective sigh as we slumped together in happy exhaustion. Maureen and I laughed softly, contentedly as we slowly drifted down from the orgasmic clouds. We held each other and slowly drifted off to sleep, spending the first of what I hoped would be thousands of nights together. The whole trip went like that. We tried just about every non-black slope on the mountain, toured the shops and cafes of downtown Telluride and made love every night after we got back to the condo. By the time we got back to Durango, we knew it was love. On the Tuesday before Christmas, I packed my SUV with a few suitcases and presents for one and all, then headed back east for a few weeks. I went by way of my folks' house, but didn't linger. I did visit Dolores to give her a present, but I didn't fuck her. I told her I'd found someone in Colorado that I wanted to commit myself to, and she smiled as she said she understood. "I'd have expected nothing less from you," she said. Marci Glover was much the same way when I got back to town and called her up for dinner. "I knew it wouldn't take long for someone to find you," she said. "You're too good a man to stay single very long. I'm glad you're happy." I did not stay at the house when I went back. It wasn't home any more, and I didn't want to give Beth any illusions. I did visit quite a bit, and it was cordial enough, but she and I avoided the elephant in the room until after Christmas. It actually wasn't a bad Christmas. Jason had convinced Beth to let him move back home, but she finally grew a backbone where he was concerned. He could stay but he had to pull his weight around the house. He'd come dangerously close to some serious drug trouble when he was living with his buddies, and apparently it had scared some sense into him, because he was talking seriously about entering a rehab program. Laura had really taken my departure as a real warning shot. She'd ditched the scuzzy boyfriend and was taking more interest in school, figuring out – as I had told her repeatedly in our e-mail exchanges – that without at least a high school diploma, her odds of getting anywhere in life were about nil. She had gotten a part-time job at a youth-oriented novelty shop in the mall, where her quirky dress and hipster attitude were put to good use. That left Beth. The day after Christmas, Laura was at work, and I gave Jason 50 bucks and told him to go have fun at the mall. Beth and I had serious business to discuss and we needed to be alone. I brought the divorce petition that I'd gotten from Grace Shaw and set it on the coffee table in the front room. Beth just stared at it with sad eyes brimming with tears. "I guess you've made your decision," she said. "I have," I said. "But I think I deserve some answers first. Why did you cheat on me, Beth? I know we had problems in our marriage, but if you'd been open about it, we might have worked through those problems." "I don't know," she said. "I guess I expected you to fight for me, fight for our marriage, that if there was a competitor for my affections that you'd do what you had to do. It just went too far. I was drinking a lot during that time, but that's no excuse. I let it happen, thinking that I could ... I don't know, have this little fling, get that itch out of my system. I really didn't think you'd give up on us that easily." "Beth, what was there to fight for?" I said softly. "You were bitching all the time, Jason was one step away from jail, Laura was a teenage mother waiting to happen, the house was a wreck, work was boring and then you started cheating on me. Honestly, what was there to fight for? And that still doesn't answer the question of why you decided to fuck another man behind my back, and then keep on fucking him for six months. That's something I just can't get my mind around." "I guess it was just the illicit thrill of a new cock, a new experience," Beth said. "It was a jolt of excitement in a boring life. I guess I just needed something more. But, Pete, you have to believe me, I've never stopped loving you. You were always the No. 1 man in my life, and you always will be." "I don't doubt that," I said. "Although I'm having some trouble believing you loved me when you were entertaining Clark, especially when you were finding excuses not to have sex with me. I may have been the No. 1 man in your life, like you say, but you were still paying a lot of attention to No. 2." "I'm so sorry about all of that," she said in a very small voice. "I guess I lost track of what was really important. So, do you hate me then?" "No, of course not," I said. "We had 24 years together, and a lot of them were good years. You're the mother of my children, bless their hearts, and I think in the main you're a decent person who got confused and made a costly mistake. No, I don't hate you, Beth, but I don't love you any more. That died the day I walked in on you and your lover. Maybe we just drifted apart and Clark saw an opening. Actually, I owe you my thanks. What you did provided the spark that allowed me to have a new life, doing things I always wanted to do in places I always wanted to be." "Well, it certainly agrees with you," she said finally. "You look great. You do deserve to be happy, I guess, and I ... I guess I deserve to be miserable." "Don't ..." I said as I watched Beth finally lose her composure. I didn't want to, but I went to her then and held her one last time, letting her cry. After she got calmed down, she signed the divorce agreement, and since we were in a no-fault state and we were divorcing on the nebulous grounds of irreconcilable differences, it would be final after 60 days. I stayed a couple more days, to pack up the rest of my things and to visit with the kids. I was still worried about Jason, but it looked like Laura was going to be all right. She had found her little niche in retail sales and she seemed to have gained a newfound respect for me. On the next to last day of the year, I said my final good-byes and headed off to settle in Durango for good. That was three years ago. Kyle's business started to take off in that time, and I found the variety of tasks I was asked to perform to be quite stimulating. I spent a lot of time polishing up my book and when I had what I believed was a finished product, I started shopping it around to publishers. I had to endure a half-dozen rejections before I found one that liked it. "Falling Up" got some nice reviews and managed to make the lower end of some best seller lists. It's on its third printing and still sells modestly. I'm working on a second book, a novel about Custer, and I have a computer full of odds and ends, essays and ramblings, that I may or may not ever get published. Doesn't matter. I'm expressing my creative side in a way I never did before. Maureen and I fell deeper in love, and eight months after we met, we were married in a small ceremony there in Durango. Laura came out for the wedding, and she and Maureen became friendly. Laura was promoted to manager of the store where she'd been working and seems to be doing well. A year ago, I was blessed with another child, as Maureen delivered a baby boy. You cannot fathom how much I appreciate a second chance at fatherhood. Beth hasn't remarried, although she does date some. She's filled her life with working on seriously fixing up the house, which gives her something to occupy her time when she's not working. We've stayed friends and we still talk occasionally, mostly about what to do with Jason. His commitment to sobriety didn't take, and he fell deeper into the spell of drugs. He's currently incarcerated after being convicted of manufacturing meth for sale with his old roomies. Our relationship blows hot and cold, but at least we have one. There are those who say adultery is a devastating thing, that it destroys lives, and I guess in one sense that may be true. It certainly destroyed my old life. But out of the bitter ashes of that betrayal came a new, far better life for me. I'm living the life I always dreamed about when I was growing up, in a place where I always wanted to be. That would not have happened had I stayed married to Beth. She did me a favor when she started cheating on me, and as a result, I was liberated to follow my own path. The best revenge is living well, and I'm living a pretty damn good life because of my ex-wife and her lover. Thanks, guys, I needed that.