75 comments/ 134704 views/ 52 favorites 6-4=3 By: StangStar06 Hi folks, those of you who don't like longer stories should probably skip this one. Mikothebaby and I have done two or three shorter little gimmick pieces for the last few and we wanted a chance to stretch out and do a story with no ghosts or goblins or tricks. We wanted a story about people relating to each other or not relating to each other and how it affects their relationship or lach thereof. There aren't really any perfect people in this story. A lot of you may not find anyone to like among all of the characters. In order for people who don't like long pieces to feel comfortable I've broken this little drama up into three acts so they can readt them separately. Of course, all three acts are here in one big giant piece for people who want to read the whole thing. You don't have to read it all in one sitting, we didn't write it that way. As usual next week's story will be completely different and probably shorter. Thanks to mikothebaby for editing all of these words and turning them into a readable story. If you hate it, it's not her fault she didn't write it, she just gussied it up. SS06 * * * * * * This is more of an equation than a story. It's a situation although mathematically, it's a subtraction problem, but the emotions involved make it a bit more complicated. Well...you'll see. * * * * * * Act one: Grouping Ryan and Melanie Ryan I stepped out of my used Mercedes C 250. I looked around the parking lot of the motel to see if anyone was looking at me. For the money I paid for the very cheapest car of the Mercedes line, I could have bought a far nicer Cadillac, Audi or BMW. But for me only a Benz would do. I enjoy asking for my keys in a loud voice and saying, "It's the Mercedes." There's something about that which let's everyone around me know that I drive the best. Therefore, by association it gives them the impression that I am a cut above the average bear. I am all about making an appearance. Most of the people I deal with for any length of time know that I'm more about style than any actual substance. I know that in most facets of life, appearance is everything. Ninety percent of the time, if I look like I know what I'm doing, or look like I belong in a place, everyone there believes I do. It started out in high school. I was the third string quarterback. I never played a snap in any game my entire four years there. But, I wore the uniform and worked out hard in the gym to make sure I looked good in it. For that, I got the status afforded to all of the guys on the team. I got the respect that all of the members of the team got and I even got a cheerleader girlfriend. I got all of those things, not because I was a great athlete, but because I looked like I was. I ran into a problem in college when, at a practice, the coach decided to go for a practice game. Ha made up two teams of mixed first and second string players and had them play a game. I had never even bothered to learn the play book. When the center snapped the ball, it came so fast and so hard that it knocked me on my ass. My head hit the ground and I suffered a concussion. Luck was on my side though, because everyone assumed that I'd slipped. I milked the concussion for the whole season and simply didn't return to the team the next year. While at college, I dated a number of women. I got a lot of first dates and a respectable amount of sex, but very few second and no third or fourth dates. That all changed when I met Melanie Parks. I made Melanie my reason for living. I put all of my attention on Melanie. I pursued her, I wooed her, I screwed her and in the end I imbued her with the title of wife. She would be the woman I'd have for the rest of my life; or so the story was supposed to go. Melanie Parks was a moderately pretty girl. She was moderately smart as well. She had medium length brown hair and blue eyes. She had extremely nice, although not giant breasts. Her ass and legs were world class though from running track for most of her life. She was extremely average or perhaps just a shade above. Melanie was one of the sweetest, but also most romantic women I knew. What attracted me to Melanie wasn't her pretty face. I also wasn't attracted to her nice body, her caring attitude or her sweet disposition. Melanie didn't look like a million bucks in clothes any more than any other woman did. Melanie didn't fuck like a minx and she couldn't suck a golf ball through a garden hose. What attracted me to Melanie so desperately was behind her and it wasn't her muscular ass. I was attracted to Melanie's...father. Herb Parks was CEO and largest stockholder in Parks International. He had built the company from the ground up into one of the few domestic chip manufacturing plants that could compete with the Asian market vendors. Parks International was worth its weight in gold. The only thing Herb Parks loved more than his company was his family. He gave his wife and daughter anything they wanted. He gave us a huge wedding and even gave us a house to live in. The most important thing was that he also gave me a job at a very good salary that I would probably never lose. The opportunities for advancement were unparalleled. The best thing about it is that I really don't have to be good at anything. As long as I look busy and keep looking like I'm doing something, I'm safe. And with Melanie talking to her daddy and telling him that I need a better job every so often, I'll keep rising in the company. Eventually, one of two things will happen. Either Herb will decide to retire and leave me in charge or he'll die and leave the company to Melanie, which would still leave ME in charge. Another thing that I've learned from the football fiasco is to always have someone to blame in case of catastrophe. And to also stay friendly with a few people who actually know what's going on. That way if I need to make a good showing, I can get them to coach me and make sure I come out looking good. As I said before, Melanie is a really nice girl. She's sweet and pretty and all of that, but she's a little bit boring for my tastes and I have to really work at it to stay awake with her during sex. I actually started cheating on her before we got married and I've continued to do so ever since. It took about three years for her to catch me the first time. She was distraught and upset and I told her that I'd been drunk. That works really well for women, but for guys being drunk actually cuts down on your ability to perform. But Melanie believed me and took me back. I promised her that I'd never drink unless she was with me anymore. It hurt me a lot. I had to fire my secretary. She was a really hot blonde with incredible boobs. But somebody had to take the fall for me being caught and she was as good as anyone. Since then, I've been much more careful. I can't afford to have Melanie get angry at me. As boring as she is, my future is tied to her. Lately I've been considering getting her knocked up. That would, after all, make it a lot harder for her to dump me if I get caught again. The problem is that I'm still too young at thirty five for that "Daddy" tag. But we'll see. As I look around the parking lot, I spot her and she waves at me. She's young, blond and happy. Almost the opposite of my wife's middle aged, dark haired, dour faced appearance. She starts walking towards me and then slows down. She already knows the game. We can't be seen going into a room together. I got the keys earlier and she watches as I go into the room. She looks around herself and then when the coast is clear slowly walks up to the door. Anyone who is only casually watching us won't assume that we're here together. All they'll remember is that a guy went into a room and then a few minutes later, a woman went into a room. Most won't even take note of the fact that we went into the same room since they won't have seen us together. As soon as the door closed, she was on me. That was one of the things I loved most about Tabitha. She was aggressive when it came to sex. She didn't play any of those stupid fucking games that women play. She didn't spend hundreds of dollars on lingerie that would only end up on the floor and forgotten anyway. She didn't try to set a romantic mood with candles or incense and all of that other retarded bullshit. She didn't need to pretend to be demure or innocent. We both knew what we came here for. She wanted it just as much as I did and there was nothing to gain by playing stupid games the way my wife still did, even after being married for all of these years. "Suck my titties," she proclaimed as her greeting. She quickly opened her blouse and had obviously either taken off her bra earlier or simply hadn't worn one. My wife could never have gotten away with that. Even though her breasts weren't huge, she couldn't go around without a bra without attracting a lot of attention. Tabitha's barely more than a mouthful sized pert breasts stood up without any support and her nipples were tiny enough that they didn't stand up much even when hard. But all I had to do was to touch them and she was screaming. She pulled her skirt up around her waist and I pushed her back onto the bed and I was in her all the way up to my balls. She gave a single grunt and then started forcing her hips against my abdomen. At the same time, I did my best to ram her through the cheap motel bed. Our grunts, our sweat and the smell of sex permeated the air in the room. I don't know why her slick tunnel excited me so much. Surprisingly, even though younger, she wasn't as tight as my wife, so there had to be more to it than just the act of sex. But I was enjoying myself too much to even think about it. After a blissfully short period of time, her body stiffened and went slack. She smiled up at me as I continued pounding away at her until I too, slipped off the edge of my own personal cliff. * * * * * * Melanie My name is Melanie Dewberry and I'm lonely and depressed. I don't understand it. My life was not supposed to turn out this way. I guess everyone says that. When we're young, we all imagine that we're going to be a famous athlete or a movie star and it just never happens for most of us. The few people who do become movie stars or sports legends probably wanted to be something else too. I guess I can't complain, it's just...I don't want to be rich, or famous, or anything like that. I just want one small thing. I just want to have someone who loves me and I want to love him right back. I'm married to Ryan Dewberry and my marriage just doesn't feel like that. I feel like I'm alone all of the time, even when we're together. I met Ryan while we were in college and we've been married for thirteen years. I thought that our love would only grow over time and we'd get even closer together, but it hasn't been like that. Lately I've been remembering the warning one of my college roommates gave me about Ryan. When I first met him, I wanted to know all about him. I wondered why he dated so many different women but didn't have a steady girlfriend. So I asked her because she'd dated him. She said that he had just enough bullshit for one date. After that, his charm wore off and very few women wanted to see him again. He looked really good in his clothes, but he was mostly a stuffed shirt. I should have taken her warning more seriously. At first, Ryan was very attentive and very caring. He was romantic, he was sweet, and he was everything a girl wants. At the same time, he was definitely a man. He was into football and cars and all of those grown up, little boy things. But almost before the ink dried on our marriage certificate, Ryan began paying more attention to his job and to trying to impress my dad than he did to me. Almost from the beginning, he was staying at the office late and working extra time. I felt that he should have been working extra time on improving our marriage, but I didn't say anything. Perhaps I should have. It wasn't long before I stumbled onto the fact that he had another woman. When I confronted him about her, he admitted it. He told me that he'd been drinking while they celebrated landing a new account and things had just gotten out of hand. After that first time, she'd blackmailed him into continuing it. She'd told him that if he didn't continue to see her, she'd tell me about it and I'd probably divorce him. I don't know how, but I let him convince me that it would never happen again. With the teeth taken out of her blackmail, he fired her and we stayed together. Staying together didn't really help us. We continued to drift farther apart and for the last few years, I really believe that I should have spoken to the woman before I let her be dismissed so hastily. Ryan has been the perfect husband to all appearances. When we're out in public, he's attentive and we hold hands, but it really rings hollow because when we're not in public, we rarely see each other. Ryan is always at work. He even goes in on Saturdays when the plant is closed. He asked me to pick his new secretary, to make sure there was no recurrence of the previous incident. The woman I picked is sixty years old and fat, but very adept in secretarial skills. I don't know what I expected. Maybe I was unrealistic. I expected my husband to make an effort. I thought that maybe it would be like it was in the beginning and that he'd try to win my love back; or at least to try to prove to me that his mistake was a mistake and that he loved me. I didn't get either. It was more like...no harm, no foul, business as usual. For the past few years, I've felt more like I was the one who'd made the mistake. Actually, I felt like I've made two. The first one was marrying him to begin with. The second mistake was in taking him back after he cheated. I'm not a spoiled princess or a diva. I'm not very hard to please. I don't need or expect expensive presents or anything like that. I've been there and done that. I grew out of that kind of thing before I hit my teens. My father owns and runs a very successful company, so I was spoiled as a little girl. But as I got older, I'd already learned to judge who my real friends were and who was just out to use me for my daddy's money. It's funny when you think about it. In many ways, Ryan seems like that type. I guess the only difference is that Ryan works all of the time to get his money. By the time I hit my teens, I realized that what really made me happy was when my daddy or my friends spent time with me or the way they treated me, not what they bought me. All I expect from my husband is that he treats me like I matter. I want to know that he loves me. I really don't think that's out of the box. For the past few weeks, I've had the feeling that Ryan is playing his game again, so I hired an investigator to find out for me and if possible get me the evidence I'd need in the event of a divorce. This morning I was heading for a meeting with the investigator. He'd called and told me that he'd found something for me. I hoped that I was just being paranoid. But deep down inside, I already knew that something was going on. I think that in some ways we're all connected. We're especially connected with our close friends and family. So when something is wrong, we get flashes, and my flashes were telling me that my husband was betraying me yet again. The investigator was an older guy. He was bald on top and he had sagging cheeks. He looked kind of like a Basset hound in the face. His sad expression already told me what I needed to know but maybe...I hoped that maybe the sadness his expression conveyed was just the way he looked. Maybe this guy would look like that even if he won the lottery. "Mrs. Dewberry," he said. "I guess there's no easy way to say this. You were right. Your husband is meeting another woman. He's been pretty careful. It's almost as if he's been caught before..." "He has," I said with almost no emotion. The tears welling up in the corners of my eyes and the sick feeling I had in the pit of my stomach belied the stoic tone of my words. I felt like I wanted to die. I wondered who she was and what she had that I didn't. Why did Ryan choose her over me? What did she do for him that I wouldn't do? "Anyway, he's covering his tracks well. It was hard to catch him. He's meeting her in motels and he's paying cash for the rooms. He uses a different motel every time. I wonder what he'd have done when he ran out of motel rooms. She's not his secretary and as far as I can tell she doesn't work for your father's company at all. That was pretty smart. Usually, they pick someone they work with. After all, they spend at least as much of their time on the job as they do at home." He shook his head as he looked at me. "I have pictures and a log of their activities. I even have a video and a lot of audio tape. He's a pretty randy guy. They meet up at least four or five times a week. He's even met her more than once in the same day a couple of times. She lives in a trailer park about three miles from your father's plant. She works in a gas station. The funny thing about it is that your husband has no idea that she has a husband and four kids of her own." "I spent some time following her around too. She's only twenty three years old. The husband has no job and he isn't above cheating on her from time to time. Maybe she sees your husband as some kind of white knight in shining armor. From the way they talk after sex, she has the idea that your husband is going to take her away from her drab life. She's trying to slowly come around to bringing up her kids. Either that or she's going to just leave the kids with the husband when your husband finally takes her away from it all." "On the other hand, your husband sounds like it's just pure fun and games. He obviously has no intention of divorcing you. From his latest demands on her for wilder and rougher sex, it seems as if he's winding things down. This may run out of steam on its own or it may explode and get far worse. Anyway, all of the evidence is there in the folder. If you really love this man, you probably don't want to look at the evidence. In my experience, when you actually see your spouse cheating on you, it makes it a lot harder to try to salvage the relationship." For a while neither of us said anything. He looked at me with what had to be pure pity on his face. "Are you married Mr. Smith?" I asked. I was sure that he wasn't. After all, doing what he did for a living had to make a man jaded and less willing to see the good in people. Besides with looks like his how would he find someone? Would he put an ad on craigslist with the heading "Man seeks woman. Must love dogs?" Surprisingly, his sad, dog-like face brightened. He smiled as he said, "Yes." And my entire world got a little bit darker. If this sad faced man could find happiness and I couldn't; what the hell was wrong with me? Even the way his face brightened at the question told me that not only was he married but that he was deeply in love with his wife and had absolutely no doubts about whether or not she loved him back. I had to look at the sad faced little man differently then. Maybe I, not he, was the punch line in some cosmic joke. I reached for the envelope and took it off of the table with trembling fingers. I left the office and drove home. The miracle was that I made it without killing myself or some other motorist because I truly don't remember driving at all. I walked into my house. My house was beautiful, but it wasn't a home. Everything around me was shiny and bright and modern, but it wasn't a home. To be a home there needed to be love in it and there clearly wasn't. I was just exhausted. The whole thing was just emotionally draining. I couldn't even work up the strength to cry. As I sat down on the sofa, I heard a slight chiming sound. I looked around and realized it was my computer letting me know that I had an email. I logged onto my account. The message was from my online pen pal. 6-4=3 I hadn't heard from him in a couple of days and I'd been worried. We usually chatted and emailed each other at least daily, if not more often. Although I'd never actually met him in person, he'd helped me through a lot of my darkest times. I could always count on him to allow me to vent my anger and frustration at problems I was having. There had been a few times when I'd been really angry at Ryan and tried to paint all men with the same brush and I'd lashed out at him too. He'd never gotten upset with me. He just accepted it, changed the subject and moved on. He had a way of sending me things like online cards or jokes that cheered me up. Perhaps part of my sadness over the past few days had stemmed from not hearing from him. I read his email quickly. He'd sent me another virtual bouquet of flowers and a joke. God I wish that Ryan was like him. He always tried to cheer me up no matter what. I imagined being married to someone like that and got a little wet between my legs. It was a really novel idea. A man who thought that being with his wife and making her happy was a priority in life. I wonder who came up with a bizarre concept like that. I looked at my instant messenger and saw that he was online. I quickly messaged him. I waited for a couple of minutes and he got back to me "Hi," he typed with a smiley face after it. "Where were you?" I typed back. "Sorry, How are you?" he typed. "Really down," I typed. "My asshole husband is at it again. He's fucking some twenty year old, trailer trash bimbo. I guess I am getting old and he wants someone younger and fresher." "You're on drugs," he typed back. I was about to start typing again. But another line of text appeared. "I did a bad thing." He typed. "Not possible," I typed back. "You're too nice." "I did a bad thing to you," he typed. That really made my heart lurch. Maybe all men were scum. "What did you do?" I asked. My head was spinning. My husband is cheating on me. I don't have many friends and now the most important one of those, a man I'd never actually met, was admitting that he'd done something to me too. When would it end? 'I googled you," he typed. "I know it was wrong. We've been friends now for over a year and I was curious about what you look like. Your Facebook page came up and there were a couple of pictures of you. You're beautiful and your husband is crazy." I was stunned. I sat there wondering when the last time that Ryan had paid me any kind of compliment was. "Sorry," he'd typed. "You're silly," I typed back. "Why didn't you just ask? I'd have sent you a pic." "You're married," he'd typed back. "That wouldn't be appropriate. I didn't want to lose my best friend because she thought I was a stalker." "Ha ha ha," I typed back. "Hey, don't forget you're married too. We wouldn't want your wife to get the wrong idea. What if she found a picture of me on your computer?" He didn't type anything back. I just stared at a blank screen. I thought that maybe he didn't get my reply. I remembered that he was at work; maybe he just had a problem to handle. "Are you still there?" I typed. "Gotta go," he typed almost immediately. His avatar on my messenger showed that he was offline. Perhaps there was a problem he had to handle. I'd check on him again later. The funny thing was that ten minutes before, I'd been totally depressed. It was funny, but spending a few moments on a computer chatting with a man I'd never met had cheered me up immensely. He thought I was beautiful. I began to wonder all kinds of things. Did he really mean it? Or was he just trying to cheer me up? I began to wonder after all of these months and all of these messages we'd sent back and forth, what he looked like too. The sound of the house phone ringing took me out of my thoughts. I picked up the phone and answered it still smiling. As I waited for the person on the other end of the line to say something, I wondered how the hell a guy I'd never laid eyes on could make me smile. "Hi Honey," said Ryan over the phone. "I just called to tell you that I'll be working late. I didn't want you to worry about me or go to a lot of trouble with dinner." "Fine Ryan," I said calmly. "Tell Tabitha I said hello." I heard the phone drop and a lot of static. It sounded like Ryan had dropped his cell phone and damaged it. I hung the phone up and it rang again within a minute. I picked the phone up and he started whining before I said anything. "Melanie, Baby, what are you talking about?" he asked. "My secretary is old and her name isn't Tabitha. I don't know anyone named Tabitha." "Sorry Ryan," I said. "I guess I made a mistake." "You had me scared for a moment there," he said. "There's a lot of that going around," I said. "I'm standing here looking at a picture of you sticking your dick in some trailer park queen and the audio tape I have of it clearly sounds like you called her Tabitha." "But uhm...ahh," he said. "We should probably talk about this. I'll be home on time after all, okay?" "Nokay Ryan," I said. I never raised my voice. I stayed calm and cool. "Perhaps it would be a good idea for you to check into one of those motels that you've been using with Tabitha until I'm ready to speak to you." "But Melanie, you don't understand any of this," he said. "I'm going to explain it all to you as soon as I get home." "Ryan, I've already told you not to come home," I said. "But you can't kick me out of my own house," he yelled. "I'm coming home." "I've already called a locksmith," I said. I was looking for one on the internet even as I spoke to him, so it wasn't that big of a lie. "Besides, in most divorces the woman gets the house anyway. And then there's the fact that my parents bought this house for us Ryan and if you remember the deed it was very specific. It says Melanie Parks and husband. After our divorce, you won't be my husband Ryan. This has never really been your house, it's been our house." "Melanie, we really need to talk before this gets out of hand," he mumbled. "Ryan," I said. "It's already out of hand. Call me in a couple of days, Ryan and we'll talk." "But Melanie," he whined. "Ryan, right now, I'm very upset. This isn't the first time you've done this. Last time you swore it would never happen again. So call me in a couple of days when I've had a chance to calm down." I hung up the phone. I did call a locksmith. It took him over an hour to get there. I had him change the locks on all three of the doors in the house. I also had him change the lock on the garage door and even recode the remote for the big door. I also called the alarm company and had them reset the password for the home security system and recode the remotes for it as well. I decided that the very best thing for me would be to sit down and figure out what I really wanted to do with the rest of my life. At thirty five years old, I was at a turning point. Should I try to salvage what I'd built over the past thirteen years or should I start from scratch before it was too late? * * * * * * Sandy I was in a good mood and I probably shouldn't have been. I thought I was smarter than the average bear and I was, but then again bears are pretty dumb. My husband, Ben, had just left to go to work. Every morning, I watched him stuff himself inside of another female and enjoy himself immensely. Some days I thought that she was his true love and I was only here to cook and clean for him and one day when the timing was right, to bear his children. That fucking Mustang was really his soul mate and I was just along for the ride. Anyway, as I watched Ben drive away, before the echo of his loud ass exhaust system had died, I sent out the signal. It was subtle and you had to know what to look for. I took off the red sweater I was wearing and draped it over the railing on my front porch. Then I turned and walked into my house. Within a few moments of the door closing, there was a very soft knock at the side door. I opened it and my across the street neighbor, dressed in running gear slipped in. Without a word he headed down into my basement. "Am I the only one coming or just the first?" he asked. I shrugged my shoulders and smiled at him. "I miss the days when it was just you and me fucking up a storm," he said. He picked up the remote and pointed it towards the big screen TV on the back wall. "Nick, don't," I said sharply. "You mean to tell me that it's okay for me to fuck your pussy and your mouth any time I want, but I can't watch Ben's fucking TV?" he asked. "Nick, I think you have the wrong idea," I said. He'd pissed me off, but before I could say anything else, the door opened and Greg and a couple of his friends came in. Greg looked at me and grabbed my tits. As he rubbed them, he pushed me back towards the couch. He saw Nick but didn't say a word. Greg and Nick knew each other but weren't really friendly. The odd thing about it is that they were both friends of Ben's but didn't socialize with each other. The only reason they were both here now was because they were both fucking me. There had been several occasions when both had shown up at the same time and there had been incidents in the past. I'd made sure they realized that if there were any problems, I'd cut both of them off. For that reason they knew enough to behave. Besides, they knew that they'd need each other because on the average morning, I could fuck both of them under the table and then take a shower, make dinner and give my husband all he could handle. Greg had brought two guys that he worked with along with him. I'd had both of them in previous locations. One was an older guy, the other was a younger, black guy who was still nervous about being here. As I allowed Greg to push me down onto the soft sofa that I'd already put a large beach towel over, he continued to rub my tits. He gently opened my blouse and pulled them out of my bra and began sucking them, first one and then the other. The three other men were getting undressed and watching Greg warm me up was already having an effect on them. Any guilt I felt began to fade as my nipples elongated. I rubbed Greg's dick through his pants and he moaned. He pulled one of his hands away from my breasts and reached for my pussy. At the same time, he slid his body up mine. My eyes were closed and I was trying to pull my panties down when I felt his lips touch mine. My eyes snapped back open and I pushed him off of me. "What the hell is wrong with you?" I asked. "Are you crazy? Get out of my house." "I'm sorry Sandy," he snapped. "It was just feeling so good. I lost my head. It won't happen again." "If it EVER does, you'll never touch me again," I said as coldly as I could. "I have a problem," I said for the benefit of all of the men in the room. "I need far more sex than one man can give me. But make no mistake about it. I LOVE my husband. I ONLY love my husband. We can have sex as often as you want it. But it is only sex. It is only a physical act. There's nothing personal about it. Kissing is an intimate act that is shared between people who are in love. So as stupid as it sounds, if you try to kiss me, you have to leave." I looked around the room and saw four men standing around feeling embarrassed all of a sudden. The four rampant hardons had wilted and they looked like a group of school boys whose teacher was scolding them. I started rubbing my pussy and they all got back into it as if nothing had ever happened. Nick got onto the couch with me and stuck his dick in my face. I opened my mouth and started gently sucking on the head of it. The older guy that Greg had brought with him wasted no time getting between my legs. He really wasn't going to enjoy this. At his age, he should have learned to pace himself. But then at his age, he was only good for one nut anyway. He pushed his dick into me and started humping away. At first, I didn't feel anything. But after a while, just the friction began to make my body react. I looked up and he had the biggest smile on his face, but I felt empty. I didn't wonder about the man. I didn't know his name and truthfully, if I passed him on the street I probably wouldn't recognize him. He was only a dick. My body reacted to being fucked the way a runner's does to a run. If you don't do it you feel strange and you get irritable. What I was doing with these guys was like training. It just got me ready for the big event. On the other hand, sex with my husband was special. That was what I trained for. Ben had the ability to just lift me completely out of my body when we were together. Ben could walk into our bedroom and I just reacted. My nipples hardened instantly when I saw him. Ben made my pussy drip and my breathing quicken without even touching me. When we kissed, I tried to suck his soul out of him. Ben is my world. I seriously doubt that I could live without him. Just thinking about him had caused me to start producing more juice and my pussy was soaking wet. The old man fucking me started pumping me even harder. He really thought that he was ringing my chimes. "Oh yeah fuck me, baby," I moaned involuntarily. "Fuck me Ben. I'm yours." The old man stopped abruptly and his dick shrank. The other three all laughed at him as they realized what had just happened. "Fucking bitch," he spat. "Don't get mad Frank," laughed Greg, as he took the old man's place between my legs. "Look at it the way it is. It's a win-win situation. You get some really good pussy. She gets to use you as a human dildo while she thinks about her husband." They all laughed at that and Greg was telling the truth. After a couple of hours or so, they'd all go home and tell their wives that they'd had to stay late because the morning shift guys were late again. They'd crawl into their beds and go to sleep with a good feeling and dream about the fun they'd had fucking me. I'd take a shower and clean the house and make dinner. Then I'd soak in the tub just to make sure that I was extra clean and get ready to ring Ben's chimes when he got home. For the next couple of hours, the guys did their best to wear me out and failed. They bent me into every position they could think of and used my pussy like they owned it. I lost count of how many blow jobs I did or how many times they fucked me. I think I actually came once or twice but they were small orgasms at best, not like the ones Ben gives me. With Ben, it almost seems like I'm having a stroke. I lose control of my motor functions and I can feel my pussy clamping on his dick. It feels like my body wants to squeeze every drop of fluid he can muster. It's as if my body is trying to overwhelm my birth control implant and make a baby every time he's in me. With these guys, it's just rubbing. If they keep rubbing my pussy long enough, sooner or later I get off. But it's just not the same. "Huh?" I ask. I come out of my thoughts just in time to notice that Greg is fucking me again. The other three guys are getting dressed and they're all looking at me like I'm crazy. They're all shaking their heads and they have that tired but happy look like they just ran a marathon. If things keep up this way we may need to add a few more guys. "Whose pussy is this?" grunts Greg as he pounds me as hard and as fast as he can. "Ben's," I answer without even thinking about it. "Well, thanks for letting me use it," he retorts just as he collapses onto me. Just as his dick starts to spurt inside of me, I roll over and push him off. "Don't come back for a month," I snapped. "What?" he asks. "You're safe. You can't get pregnant. You've got that thing in you." "Don't act stupid, Greg. No one gets to cum inside of me except..." "Yeah, I know," he said angrily. "Fucking Ben..." "Make it two months," I said. "Maybe if you have to only fuck Betty for a while, you'll appreciate what I'm giving you." "You do this more for Betty than for me anyway," he said. "Just get out," I said. He looked really hurt. If I didn't know any better, I'd have thought he was going to cry. I'd already decided that I was done with Greg. The two month thing was just to ease the blow. Greg didn't realize it but he was actually right. "Sandy, I need to tell you something," he said. "Let me guess," I said. "You're feeling guilty about what we're doing, right? You think we should come clean and tell Betty and Ben what we've done, right?" He looked at me as if I had rocks in my head. He stood up straighter and stuck out his chest. "Sandy, I know that this didn't start out in a good way, but..." he paused and I could tell that what he was about to say was terrifying for him. He looked me straight in the eyes and said, "Sandy, I love you. I think I should divorce Betty and you should divorce Ben and..." The sound of my laughter blocked out whatever he was going to say next. He turned red and his eyes showed anger, pain and several other emotions. I realized then that I'd been right. I needed to get Greg out of my life. I'd read all kinds of stories about how people snapped and got violent in situations where they'd been humiliated or driven past their tolerance for emotional stability. I decided to soften the blow to keep him from doing something we might both regret. "Greg, we need to talk about this. I do have feelings for you, but I really and truly love Ben. I can't even pretend that I'd give him up, but we need to talk about what you're feeling too. Forget about the two months," I said. I rubbed his face affectionately. "Call me tomorrow and we'll talk about this and see if we can figure out something that works for all of us." He smiled and put his clothes on. Just as he got ready to walk out the door, he looked back at me. "I really do love you, Sandy," he said. "I'm forty years old, not some kid. I know that you love Ben. And Ben is a really good guy, but I love you too." As soon as he was outside of the door, I locked it. I watched him get into his car and drive off. He lived on the next block. I started laughing so hard I almost peed. There was no way I'd ever even consider divorcing Ben for Greg or any other man alive. I didn't want to see Greg get hurt. I didn't want to see his wife, Betty, who was a friend of mine, get hurt either. The whole situation was getting out of control. As I headed upstairs for a shower, I thought about the whole fucked up situation. As the warm water and fresh smelling shower gel coated my body, I thought back to my college days. I'd been pretty innocent at twenty. I'd been taking liberal arts classes because I didn't have a clue about what I wanted to do with my life. Then I met Steve. Steve brought me out of my shell. I'd messed around a few times and I wasn't a virgin, but Steve introduced me to regular sex. Steve was the first guy I went out with where it was a foregone conclusion that when we got together that he was going to get some pussy. There was no let's go out to a movie. It was more like, let's go out to a movie, first. After a few months together, we no longer went out at all. He just came over to fuck me. We went to a party at his house once and we left the party and went up to his room. After he fucked me, we were lying on the bed and I was still horny. I didn't often get off with Steve. He was pretty selfish when it came to sex. He usually got off IN me and then got off OF me. I was lying there frustrated when I noticed his roommate watching us. The itch in my pussy was awful and Steve had started snoring. His roommate got bolder and stepped into the room. When I didn't say anything, he came over to the bed. He reached out very slowly and I knew what was going to happen. The itch in my nether regions over rode my morals and my sanity. I was torn by my need for satisfaction and the fact that my boyfriend was asleep on the bed beside me. But by the time his fingers touched my pussy, the debate was over. He gently stroked my vaginal lips and skirted my clit teasing me. Then he stuck his index finger slowly inside the hole and I knew I'd go crazy before too much longer. 6-4=3 When his finger bumped my clit, my legs closed around his hand involuntarily and I grabbed his dick. He stripped off his clothes and climbed on top of me. He started fucking me and I fucked him back as hard as I could. I felt terrible about what I was doing but I needed it so badly. It only took five minutes before he stiffened and grunted. He pulled out and shot three big blasts of sperm on my stomach. He got up without saying a word and another guy started rubbing my legs as Steve snored right next to me. He pointed at himself and then at my pussy and I nodded my head quickly. I was even closer to an orgasm and even more frustrated. This guy was bigger and filled me more than I'd ever been filled in my life. That was when I learned that size might be more filling, but it didn't mean it would get me off. As the guy pumped and wheezed on top of me with another guy waiting and rubbing his dick as he watched, I noticed a dick in my face. Steve was awake. He didn't seem angry. He just wanted a blow job, so I gave him one. Over the next hour or so, five more guys fucked me. When they were done, I got up, put my clothes back on and walked home. Steve didn't say a word to me. He also didn't call me for a couple of days. I thought that he was really angry at me and I felt awful. I felt like the whole thing had been my fault. I didn't blame Steve at all. No decent guy wants to have a girlfriend who fucks an entire fraternity, one guy after another. Since he hadn't called to break up with me, I was sure that I still had a chance. I decided to make a special dinner for him and apologize for my behavior. I'd swear to him that it would never happen again. I bought all of the ingredients for the meal I planned and went over to his house. One of the guys who'd fucked me let me in. I told him that I needed to use their kitchen. "Whoa, dinner AND pussy. That's a great combo," he said. "I can't wait." "It's only going to be dinner," I said. He looked at me with an expression on his face that told me he didn't believe me. Guys came and left as I cooked. One guy came in and grabbed my breast as I cooked. I moved his hand and he smirked at me. Another guy tried to stick his hand in my pants. I grabbed a knife and let him know the error of his ways. He just laughed. Then I heard it. I heard Steve talking to a couple of the guys. "Dude, she's back. Do you think we can do it again?" "I don't see why not," said Steve. "Seriously, why do you think I started going out with her anyway? I mean duh. She's not nearly as pretty as any of the other girls I date. Shit, we don't even date. I took her to the movies a couple of times, but since then I just go over to her house and fuck her. Apparently, I don't even have to do that anymore. She's bringing the pussy to me now. She's better than pizza. I don't even have to pick up the phone to have her delivered." "Maybe after a while, she'll pay me. Wouldn't it be funny to have her come over here and suck my dick and then pay me? And I'd use the money she gave me to take Wendy out." "The little bitch is probably upstairs in my room with her pussy wet and her legs spread," he laughed. They all laughed with him until I stepped out of the kitchen in tears. "No, the little bitch is leaving," I said with as much dignity as I could muster. "Wait Sandy," he said. "Since we're all here, why don't we all have some fun?" "Steve, I don't want to be that kind of girl. I had sex with you because I thought we had something. I don't want to become the kind of girl who screws the football team or does gang bangs. I don't want to become that kind of girl." "Too late," he smirked. "You already are. You might as well enjoy it." I started crying again and ran out of the house. But Steve was right. The damage had already been done. The story had already gotten all over the school and had been embellished and exaggerated. All kinds of guys started asking me out and they all expected to fuck me. I just stopped dating. After a few months, I was so sick of the inside of my dorm that I was going crazy. Both of my roommates had moved out, leaving me alone in our room. I started dating just so I didn't have to be alone. I picked a guy that I thought was really nice. It didn't help. He brought me home after we ate and his hand was under my skirt as soon as we got back in the car. I hadn't had sex in months and I was horny as hell. So I told him he could have me but I begged him not to tell anyone. We went back to his dorm and he fucked me. He pounded me like I was a low class prostitute. He bit me and twisted my tits. I knew I'd made a mistake. His roommate showed up when he was done. "No," I said. "Fine he told me. I'll just show everyone the pictures I took of you licking Mike's dick like it was a lollipop." In the end, I had sex with four guys and they told everyone anyway. The next year, my senior year, I moved back home and finished my degree at the local college. Everything that had happened had been a terrible blow to my confidence. At the same time, I began to wonder about things. I didn't date or even speak to guys, but I found myself thinking about what had happened. Even when I masturbated, I fantasized about being taken over and over by large numbers of men. After graduation, I took a job as a secretary for an older guy who ran a print shop. I wasn't a good secretary but I made up for it by giving him what he wanted. A couple of times he'd paid me extra to go out with an important client of his. I didn't see any harm in it. I wasn't dating anyone and had no intention of doing so. There was also the fact that I craved sex, so I'd probably have been finding someone to fuck anyway. Life has a funny way of slowly moving us in directions we never intended to go in. In less than two years, I'd morphed from a fairly inexperienced girl to a sex crazed cum slut. I no longer liked the woman I looked at in the mirror. But just when I thought things were the worst they were ever going to be, my boss took me out with him to meet a client again. That was when I met Benjamin Phillips. My boss would usually take me out to dinner with a customer. At some point, he'd get an emergency call and leave me with the client, who'd have agreed to drive me home. We'd finish dinner and I'd get the client to take me back to his hotel or some other place, where we'd get what we both wanted. From the first moment that I laid eyes on Ben, I wanted him. And I knew that something was different. In most cases when I saw a guy, I was neutral. With Ben, I was out of control. I wanted to know everything there was to know about him. At the same time, I had to go to the ladies room and take my panties off because they were soaked. I dominated the conversation and my boss kicked me under the table trying to get me to shut up so he could talk business. When the emergency call came, I could hardly wait. I had all kinds of scenarios in my head about being on a bed with Ben fucking the shit out of me. It didn't happen. When my boss asked him to drive me home, he told him that he had a meeting with another printer scheduled but that he'd pay for a cab for me and wait with me until it arrived. The next day I was distraught. Not only did we not get the job, I didn't get Ben. In fact, I didn't see Ben again for almost a year. I was in the same restaurant with another client and my boss had left. The client was an asshole but I was going to fuck him anyway. In fact, I was going to fuck him and the two guys he'd brought with him. The guy was already hinting about me going to his motel with him. I just needed to get him to bring his friends around. Then I noticed Ben walk into the restaurant. He was with a couple of other men and a really beautiful woman. They ended up sitting not too far away from my table. As the client droned on and on and started to ramp up his innuendos, my focus was on Ben. "Hey, pay attention girlie," shouted the client. I was depressed. I wondered who the woman was and what she was to Ben. "I think I'm going to go home," I said. "Not if you want my account," he said. "Your boss told me that..." "Sandra, isn't it?" he said. "I just thought I'd drop over and say hello. Is there a problem?" The twinkle in those brown eyes wiped out everything going on around us. "It's Ben Phillips," he said. "I own Phillips Personal logistics remember?" He was crazy. There was no way I could ever forget him. "Is that your wife?" I asked. "She's a client," he smiled, looking at me strangely. "Could you possibly take me home or are you double booking meetings again?" "When your business is done, why don't you join us," he said. "I'm done. I'll join you now," I said waving goodbye to the asshole sitting across from me. I followed him back to his table while the assholes I'd left bored holes in my back with their angry stares. Watching Ben work was amazing. He operated totally differently from the way my boss did. He honestly talked about his business and the services they could offer. He tried to find a way that they could work together that would benefit both him and his clients. The hard thing was the headache I got. I figured that since I had two eyes, I'd use one to watch the bitch sitting at the table with us. I couldn't take the other one off of Ben. The woman was using the business meeting as a screen. Her real interest was in Ben. She was doing all of the bullshit that high school and college girls do. She laughed at everything he said, whether or not it was funny. And she took every opportunity to touch him. She also went out of her way to either build herself up or compliment him. She licked her lips and flipped her hair at least twenty times while we were there. She never realized how close to death she was. I was so close to clawing her eyes out that I could already imagine her obituary in the paper the next day. In the end though, Ben told her that he didn't really see any way that he could help their company. Their needs and the services his company offered didn't overlap in any significant areas. As we watched her and her colleague walk away, I got more depressed. There was simply no way I could compete with a woman like that. It had been enough of a blow to my ego finding out back in college that I wasn't pretty enough for some men. But comparing myself to another woman and losing in front of a guy we both wanted was simply humiliating. He dropped me off without making a move and I was sure that I had no shot. I watched him drive away leaving me with my tongue hanging out and my panties dripping. I was so sure that I'd never see him again that I cried. I also lost my job. The clients were so upset about not getting what my asshole boss had assured them was guaranteed pussy, that they hadn't given us their business. The next day, a huge flower arrangement showed up at my apartment followed by Ben himself. We started dating after that and it took weeks to get him between my legs where I wanted him. And it changed my life. Ben didn't fuck me, he made love to me. I had so many orgasms that I almost blacked out. And he didn't just do me and run back to his life. He stayed the whole night and I fell asleep wrapped in his arms. I woke up the next morning to find him staring at me. He told me how beautiful I was. No one had told me that except for my dad. Over the next few months we grew so close that I knew that I could no longer function without him. Fortunately, I didn't have to because he loved me too and we got married. How could that fool Greg ever hope to compete with that? I shivered as I realized that my trip down memory lane had used up all of the hot water and the shower was freezing. I dried off, dressed and got dinner started. Two hours later my life took a turn for the worst. Ben came home and he looked like a balloon with most of the air let out of it I wondered what could have happened since the morning that was so bad. Ben barely said a word to me. For the first time I could remember, he didn't kiss me when he came in. When I pressed him about it he tried to act like everything was fine but I know Ben. Then I found out my answer. Immediately after he ate, he headed out to the garage. I peeped in on him and saw him with his car jacked up and only his feet sticking out from under it. I should have known that it would take a problem with his precious Mustang to have him acting that way. * * * * * * Ben I couldn't hide in the garage forever, but I gave it a damned good try. There was nothing wrong with my Mustang...well okay there was some dust on it. I took care of that inside the garage with my Turtle Wax Ice quick detailer and a microfiber cloth. What I really needed was time away from Sandy to get my thoughts in order. I was doing fine under the circumstances. I mean when you consider the morning I'd had, the fact that I hadn't committed multiple murders speaks well of my character. The fact of the matter is that I was still in shock. I'd just undergone one of those life altering traumatic experiences that you read about it the newspapers and magazines so much. And God Dammit, it wasn't fun. If you'd asked me about traumatic experiences yesterday, I'd have told you that people who had them were full of shit. In the old days people had tough times and got bad news all the time and they didn't die from it. They just shook it off or walked it off, or they rubbed some dirt on it and moved on. But the point of the matter is that they didn't let those things ruin their lives. I'd have told you that people today were simply softer than our ancestors and they just couldn't handle tough times. As of today, call me soft too, because I had a traumatic experience and rubbing some fucking dirt on it wasn't going to do shit. I hurt so badly that I wanted to go running home to my mother, but she'd passed a few years ago. I wanted to go and curl up in the fetal position in my bed but that would only put me in the clutches of the person who'd hurt me...or one of them any way. So I did the next best thing. I hung out for a while with the only other person, place or thing that I derived comfort and solace from; my Mustang GT. I knew that my car loved me, even if the woman who'd sworn to didn't. As I hid outside in the garage for the next few hours, I did everything I could to avoid going into the house. Once my car was shiny clean, well shinier and cleanier since I never actually let it get dirty. And yes, I meant cleanier, even though I just made that word up. Shit, I even washed my car while it was stored for the winter in my heated garage under a premium car cover. Anyway, after I washed the car, I jacked it up and lay down on my padded creeper under the car, just in case Sandy came out to the garage looking for me. There were several times when she walked into the garage and called out to me and even asked when I'd be done. I simply picked up a wrench and tapped the frame of the car, as if I was actually doing something and told her it wouldn't be much longer. Once, she even asked if I needed her to help me. I wished with all of my heart that she could help me. But I don't think that anyone could erase what had happened this morning from my mind. It was like something out of a bad porno movie. I came back home about thirty minutes after I left. Somehow, I'd forgotten my phone and had made it almost to work before I remembered it. Since most of my contacts were stored on the phone, including my newest potential clients that I hadn't transferred to the file on my work computer yet, I had to have the phone. I knew that it was mostly just laziness, but I needed those numbers so I headed home. Just for shits and giggles I decided to go in the side door and scare the hell out of Sandy, but it was me who got the surprise. As I passed the basement windows, I saw movement. I looked in and saw Sandy naked in our basement with four men, two of whom were friends of mine. Well, former friends anyway. I guess I should have stormed in and gotten my hunting rifle and shot all of them. But at the time, I was just shocked into inactivity. Let's face it, I'm not Rambo and I'm not the terminator either. Actually, Rambo had a heart attack a while ago so he really isn't Rambo anymore either. And the Terminator is probably more likely to be out fucking some maid or someone else's wife than he is watching his own marriage go down the tubes. What I really did was to go back to work. I don't know why, I guess maybe there's comfort in the familiar. Maybe I needed a place where I could think. It took me hours of thinking to decide what I wanted to do. I love Sandy. From the bottom of my heart, shit, she was my heart. More than that, she was all of those things that they talk about in those cheesy women's romance novels to me. There is nothing I wouldn't have done for her. Sure, Sandy isn't a raving beauty, but that isn't why I fell for her. Sandy is kind of an onion. She has so many layers that there's always something new to learn about her. But after nine years of marriage, this is the first layer that I haven't liked. Sandy is on the short side and I guess her face is average. But she has truly beautiful eyes and a smile that makes her look prettier than she actually is. Her brown hair is short and curly and makes her look younger than her thirty five years would suggest. Her boobs are small but nice and her ass is a little bit bigger than it should be to be perfectly proportionate. I should also admit that I like her ass. Not a day goes by that I'm not grabbing it or slapping it. I think the thing that Sandy hates most about her body is her legs. Over the years they've gotten bigger and she has a bit of cellulite on her thighs. I could care less. Sandy's ass and those thick legs in a tight skirt, or a sheath dress could make a priest give up altar boys. There have been too many times that we've gone out to a dinner or a movie and I dragged her home and bent her over the hood of my car because I couldn't wait until we got inside the house. Another thing is that Sandy is hands down the best sex I've ever had in my life. Her pussy isn't the tightest one I've ever been inside of, but it's the way she moves her hips and the way she gives me everything she has. There has never been anything that I wanted to try that Sandy was hesitant about or said, "No," to. I guess I know why now. The one thing that was apparent as I watched Sandy and her lovers was that she was clearly in charge and willing. As I watched her straddle Greg and move her ass up and down caressing his dick the way I loved to have her do to me, I could see that she wasn't being forced to do any of it. If anything, it was the men who were having trouble keeping up with her. So much for my self esteem; and so much for any illusion that I'd ever been anywhere near close to being enough for her. I threw my breakfast up all over the grass on the side of the house. When I finally went into the house, it was well after midnight. I took the longest possible shower I could and then quietly walked down the hall. I'd planned on sleeping in the guest room and telling her that I hadn't wanted to wake her. The repairs had taken longer than I'd thought, but had to be done because I couldn't have safely driven the car without doing it. It would sound good or at least possible. And Sandy knew that I loved my car, so she might buy it. Of course, all of that went up in flames when Sandy opened the bedroom door and pulled me inside. She was naked and pulled back the sheets so we could get into our bed. One of the things that you have to understand about Sandy and me is that we had a very vigorous sex life. That says more about her than it does about me. Most guys would have sex every night if they could. It's usually the wives that are the limiting factors. Sandy had no limits, so over the nine years that we'd been married, we'd had sex far more times than we hadn't. It was unusual for us to go to sleep without doing it at least once unless one of us was sick or out of commission. 6-4=3 So when I rolled over and said, "Goodnight," Sandy got the biggest smile on her face. She thought I was playing some kind of game. "Oh, playing hard to get," she laughed. "No, Sandy," I said quietly. "I don't want to get got." She reacted as if she'd been slapped. Her face fell and her breathing changed. She snuggled against my back in the darkness rubbing her naked tits against my back. She put one of her arms on my top leg and very slowly let it slide to the front where it accidentally brushed against my dick. If she was hoping for some kind of activity, she was disappointed because she didn't get so much as a partial rise out of me. "I'm exhausted," I said. "I'm sorry, Honey," she said sadly. "Can you at least roll over this way? I can't get to sleep without your arms around me." I rolled over into the position she wanted and tried to think about my predicament since sleep didn't seem to be in the mix. I knew that I needed a lawyer. I also knew that I'd need a very good one and that the guy I used for the business didn't handle divorces. As I thought about that, Sandy was busy. She'd pushed her ass cheeks back against me to the point that my dick was trapped between them. She raised her top leg to allow it to move further forward and contorted her body until the head of my dick was at the entrance to her pussy. My hands also found themselves on her breasts with her hands on top of them. She was pushing her ass forward and back towards me and the heat she was giving off had started my dick to inflating. I got up suddenly and went to the bathroom. She was shocked. When I opened the bathroom door she was standing outside of it and clearly pissed. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she snapped. "We've been apart all day long. The first chance I get to be with you, you just..." "Sandy," I interrupted her. "What do they call it when a man tries to coerce or force an unwilling woman into sex? There's this really nasty word for that. It begins with an "R," and ends in "APE." "I have no clue of what you're talking about because for as long as we've been together, I've never been unwilling," she quipped. "I love having you touch me and having you inside of me more than I love breathing. I need you Ben. I need you all the time." Tears started to fall down her cheeks. And for a fleeting moment, I felt bad. Then the pictures of her taking on four guys one after another, sometimes two at a time, flashed through my mind and I got sick again. "This is about that stupid fucking car again, isn't it?" she asked. "Every time there's some minor little thing wrong with that car, you go crazy. Remember when you got that scratch on the bumper and walked around pissed off at the whole world until you got it repainted? Remember how for the week that you didn't have that car you were miserable because you thought they might park it outside of the paint shop and it might get wet?" She was getting more and more angry and her voice was getting louder. "Fuck that car, Benjamin. You're married to me, not it. You're going to have to make a decision and soon," she yelled. She grabbed one of the pillows off of the bed and a blanket and threw them at me. "Go sleep with your fucking car because you're not sleeping with me," she said and she just stood there naked and glaring at me. "You WERE always more important to me than the car is," I said. I picked up the blanket and headed for the guest room. I could hear the sound of the bedroom door slamming and later on, the sound of Sandy crying. I didn't know whether to go and try to comfort her or to simply start crying myself. It wouldn't have made much sense though because we were crying for different reasons. She cried because she thought I preferred a car to her. I cried because I loved her and she obviously preferred other men to me. Either way, we wouldn't be married for very much longer, so I also cried for the death of my marriage and my happy life. * * * * * * Part two: Regrouping Ryan The first thing I did when I woke up the next morning was to call the house to see if Melanie would let me come over and get a few suits to wear to work. It would be too embarrassing for me to have to go to work in the same suit I'd worn yesterday. I looked around me in the early morning darkness. The glare of the vacancy sign in the cheap motel provided all of the illumination I needed. I'd had all kinds of trouble going to sleep with that fucking sign shining in the window last night. But to be truthful, maybe the problem wasn't the sign. Maybe it was the fact that if I hadn't totally fucked up my life, I'd come pretty close. Women just ruined everything. I didn't understand Melanie. There had to be something wrong with that woman. It was all of those stupid ideas about romance and all of that bullshit that was ruining my life. All she ever talked about was the fucking house and having a baby. We were too young for all of that. I wanted to enjoy life before I settled down and got boring. If my life and happiness weren't tied to her, I'd seriously tell the bitch where she could shove all of that bullshit. Maybe it was time for her to have an accident. The problem was that I couldn't do it right now. I was going to have to spend the next few days walking around on eggshells around her, waiting for her to cool off and calm down. Then I'd have to listen to her bitching about what I'd done. Then I'd have to spend a few weeks kissing her ass to get us back on good terms. What a waste of time. Of course, Tabitha would be history by then. But truthfully, I was getting tired of her anyway. I really think that Tabby saw me as husband material. She truly believed that her pussy was so good that I was going to divorce Melanie and move her into a better house and marry her. Somewhere above that youthful, pneumatic booty and those pert little tits, deep inside of that thick skull of hers, there was a tiny little brain. That tiny little brain could only lock onto one or two thoughts at a time. Most of the things she did, like breathing and fucking, were automatic. She didn't have to think for them to happen. Surely one of the at least fifty times that I'd explained to her how Melanie's father owned the company I worked for must have sank in. But she still really didn't understand why it was so important that I stay married to Melanie. She kept saying the same stupid God damned things. "She ain't gave you no babies yet. You need to dump her old ass." She'd said that at least ten times. What the hell made her think I wanted to have kids? What I would miss about her was how willing she always was and how ready for my dick that pussy was. I didn't have to waste time romancing her or trying to get her in the mood. We had no need for foreplay. She was like some kind of sex computer, just plug and play. But apparently I'd plugged and played too often. The worst thing about it was that Melanie had been really pissed this time. The last time she'd caught me, we'd had a lot of angry words and I'd had to fire my secretary and let Melanie pick the next one. But this time, she'd actually thrown me out of the house. I needed to tread carefully and get my ducks in a row. If my marriage ended, so too would my job. There was no way I'd get another job on the same level with the same salary. I would also have a very tough time finding a job where I had to do as little actual work. For the most part, my job consisted of waking around looking like I was doing something and taking very long lunches. I guess I'd really reached middle age finally. I was too young to really settle down and have kids, but at the same time, I was too old to go out and try to start my career over again. I needed to fix the problems in the marriage. Of course, I was not totally without resources or strategy. In fact, I already had a plan in mind. I'd give Melanie the next few days to cool off and then I'd hit her stupid ass with my full court press. I might even have to break out my secret weapon and go nuclear on her. That's Nuke-u-ler for those of us who follow George W Bush. You see, I was still in control of this marriage. I had Melanie by the short and curlies. I'd give her a few days to spit and vent and make all of her threats and angry moves. Then I'd call her pretending to cry. I'd tell her how much I missed her and how I'd realized after a few days without her that I just couldn't live without her and I'd do anything for another try. We'd take a vacation together to get away from all of the pressures I faced at work all of the time. I'd use every cheesy romantic trick that I'd ever seen in any movie to get her back on track. And if that didn't work...if none of those things were successful, I'd ask her for a talk. I'd tell her it was time for us to make the big decision. I'd take her over to the playground where there were always tons of smelly, sniveling, snotty, spastic, sneaky, slimy, shitty little kids, swinging, screaming, swearing and generally caterwauling all over the place. I'd point to the cleanest, quietest and probably most useless one of them and tell her that maybe it was time for us to try and make one of our own. But the problem was that Melanie didn't pick up the God damned phone. It rang and rang and rang. There were three possibilities for that. The first was that she was so upset that she'd started screening my calls. The second was that she'd turned off the ringer and the voice mail was full. The third was that maybe she wasn't even there. That was my nightmare scenario. Maybe Melanie had gotten so pissed at me that she'd gone home to stay with her mommy and daddy and was even at that moment telling them about all of the terrible things I'd done to her. If that was the case, then I would already have been fired. The only thing I'd have to do would be to go in to work to have them actually deliver the bad news. I had no choice. I got into my car and drove over to the house. When I pulled up to the house, I felt a pang of sorrow. I looked at the house and all of the others on the block. It is a really beautiful house. The landscaping around it is perfect although I didn't have much to do with it. Melanie did a lot of work around the house to make it look that nice. She even cut the grass herself instead of just hiring a service. There were some things that she hired out, but most of the yard work Mel did. There were a few of our neighbors who'd come over to help her out from time to time and she helped them too. But I really didn't get involved with that kind of thing. I'd never be able to afford a house like this one even on my salary. It's funny, but I'd never really appreciated the house until I couldn't go into it. This house and its ritzy address was a big part of my image. Perhaps I should take a bigger interest in its upkeep and the neighborhood. It's strange that Melanie knows all of the neighbors and we get invited to all of the little get-togethers they hold but I've never gone to any of them. Melanie sometimes goes alone, but I've never gone. I don't think any of my neighbors could pick me out of a police line-up, let alone know my name. I walked up to the house and stuck my key in the lock to open the door. Well, I tried to anyway. For some reason, my key didn't fit. I tried the door on the side of the house and couldn't open that one either. I rang the bell and heard the sound echoing through the house. A passing police car saw me and pulled into the driveway behind my car. "Can we help you sir?" asked the first officer out of the car. He'd obviously looked at my unkempt appearance and didn't think I belonged in this neighborhood. "Nope I'm fine," I said. "Can we see some ID?" he asked. "Why do I have to show you any ID when I haven't done anything?" I asked. "This is my house. I'm going to have your badges when this is over. Just watch me." Both cops got a pissed off look on their faces and drew their guns. This was all going sideways fast. They wanted me to comply with their demand to produce ID. I wanted to refuse because I hadn't done anything wrong. At the same time, I'd threatened their authority and threatened to take away their badges. They simply weren't used to citizens who wouldn't blindly comply with their wishes. Both sides were saved from unpleasantness by the timely arrival of Melanie. She walked up the driveway and walked right past me and the cops. They looked at her strangely while she opened the door and went into the house. She came back seconds later with a big fluffy towel and wiped the sweat off of her forehead and started on her arms and legs. I noticed the way the two cops looked at her. Her long tapered legs and tight ass that had just the right amount of jiggle to it, held them both spellbound. Her breasts had gained a bit of heft to them over the years and even though they didn't stand straight out from her rib cage any more, they were sizable and very nice. "Is that why you guys came here?" I asked. "To ogle my wife and bother me?" "Ma'am, are you married to this guy?" asked one of the cops. "For now, officer," she said coldly. "We saw him skulking around your house," said the officer. "He walked around the house trying all of the doors and he's dressed like a fucking bum. We were suspicious. So we asked him for ID and he refused." "The reason he's dressed like a bum is because he stayed out all night and probably slept in some cheap motel," said Melanie. "The reason he tried all of the doors was because his keys don't work anymore because I had a locksmith change all of the locks. We're getting a divorce." "Sorry sir," said one of the cops. "But you have to admit from our perspective this looks fishy." "Officers, could you perhaps stay for a while to ensure that things don't get messy," said Melanie. I wondered what the fuck the bitch had up her sleeve. I couldn't believe she'd changed the locks on the house. She'd told me she was going to, but I hadn't taken her seriously." "Melanie, they don't need to stay," I snapped. "I've never in our entire marriage even raised my voice to you let alone my hand." "Yeah but we've never been through something like this before," she said. "The last time you cheated on me it never went this far. This time it's serious and I have something for you that might make you angry. It's actually a good thing that you came by here right now. It will save us some time." "Wait a minute," said one of the cops. "I mean no disrespect, but are you telling me that you cheated on HER?" "I do not have to discuss my personal life with you officer," I said. The two cops were on the verge of laughing at me. They looked at each other in that way that people who've worked together for a long time can and both nodded. "Well buddy, you've changed my mind," said the same cop. "I'd started to feel bad for you, because buddy, I've been where you are. Being a cop makes it pretty hard on a marriage. So yeah, I've been where you are. We were going to leave because even though this pretty lady asked us to stay, there's been no complaint made and we have other things to do. But you've been such an asshole about it that we're going to stay anyway." "Great," said Melanie. "Would you guys like a glass of lemonade or a cup of coffee?" "Coffee would be great ma'am," said both. "I'll be right back with it," she said. "And I'll have something for you too Ryan." I must be missing something because it looked like Melanie was flirting with those two dirt bag cops. Maybe that was just a part of her making me eat crow. Another thing that was bothering the piss out of me was the way she looked. Maybe I'd taken Melanie for granted. Or maybe I'd simply resented her because all of my supposed success was based on her and in some way I needed to prove that I didn't need her. But the fact was that for a middle aged woman, shit for any aged woman, my wife was fucking hot. Those legs and ass had always been spectacular, but her boobs looked incredible in that sports bra. I was jealous as hell that those cops were ogling her rack and she was bending over to let them get a better view. Melanie came out with the coffee and I noticed that she'd only brought two cups and the serving tray with milk, cream and sugar. She gripped a file folder under one arm and handed that to me. I opened the folder and exploded. "What the fuck is this?" I screamed at the top of my lungs. "That is your copy of the divorce papers," she said. "You don't have to accept these since they're not official copies. You have to be served by a bonded officer of the court. I wanted to give you a heads up. All you have to do is sign them and we're divorced. Of course, there will be a waiting period for the documents to go through the court system and be rubber stamped by a judge. Then there'll be another waiting period for the divorce to become final. But needless to say, you'll be a free man as soon as you sign those. Roughly six months from now you'll be legally free to marry Tabitha." "But, I don't want a..." I began. I saw my life, my image, my cushy assed job and my future all going down the tubes. "Also in the package is what I needed the officers here for," she continued, as if she hadn't heard me. "There's a copy of the restraining order that keeps you at least a hundred yards from my house." "What!"...I screamed again. "Since you didn't know about the restraining order yet," she said. "I think it's only fair to allow you back in the house while these strong, manly officers are here to supervise you. But from now on you have no business here. Anything that you can't take with you today, will have to be picked up at a later date with our lawyers present. So Ryan, take any and everything of yours that you can fit into your car because you won't be allowed back into the house after this without notifying my lawyer." "But Melanie, I love you, Honey. I don't want a divorce," I said. "Can't we talk about this? I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It won't ever happen again." "That's exactly what you said last time, Ryan," she said. Her eyes were starting to tear up and her voice broke. "Get a lawyer, Ryan. We have to go over the settlement. I'm not asking for anything. I only want the house. You couldn't get it anyway since it was a gift to me and my husband from MY parents. If I had died, the house would have become yours, but since we're divorcing, it stays with me. I don't want any alimony or any payments, Ryan. My advice is that you sign the papers quickly. Any judge we went to would probably have you working and paying me for the rest of your life. I don't want to hurt you or take all of your stuff away from you. I just want to get over how badly you've hurt me and move on. Hopefully, I'll find someone someday who wants to be married to me and who wants to spend time with me instead of working all the time and screwing every woman he can get his dick into." The cops looked at me like I was a piece of shit and Melanie turned and went into the house. I realized then how badly I'd hurt her. I think that was the first time I'd actually thought about how Melanie felt about something since I'd met her. Every thought that had gone through my head since I met her had been about what I wanted and how she could be used to get those things. I don't think I thought about her as a person even once. I'd even used the possibility of us having a child as a bargaining chip, when all along Melanie had truly loved me. Even now, all I saw was what moves I'd need to make to get the marriage and my career back to where I thought they should be, just so I could keep my job, my lifestyle and my image intact. I was sure that if things had gone the way I'd wanted them to, I'd probably be back to cheating on her as soon as it was possible. But after listening to her and seeing her blinking back the tears, I felt differently. She really loved me and I'd hurt her. 6-4=3 The worst part of it was that when I saw the way the cops looked at her, I suddenly realized that Melanie was beautiful. She was far better looking and also built better than any of the women that I'd cheated on her with. And where most of those women just wanted to use me for something, much like the same way I used them, Melanie loved me. Her only complaint was that she wanted to spend more time with me. I realized, all of a sudden, that I was about to lose the most important part of my life for a girl who wasn't half the woman Mel is. "Melanie, I won't give you a divorce," I screamed into the house. "I'll fight it with everything I have." "Meanwhile, back at the ranch," said one of the cops. "Let's go get your clothes, buddy. We don't have all day." "Yeah. Chop chop," said the other. They sat there on my porch, drinking my fucking coffee, smirking at me and ogling my wife. I was pissed. But I still needed my clothes. I also needed to talk to Melanie. I needed to know if she'd told her parents yet that we were getting a divorce or not and whether or not I still had my job. I was determined to win her back at any cost. Nothing that I wanted had ever been taken from me in my life. Melanie was not going to be the first thing taken away from me either. If she wanted a fight, I'd give her one. I moved all of the clothing and all of my toiletries into the car. I had clothes in the trunk, the front seat and the back seat as well. The cops were looking at me crazily. And I could hear them mumbling. "Jeezus, why the hell does he need so many clothes?" asked one. "Is he some kind of fashion model or something?" "Shit, the bastard has more shoes than my ex-wife," said the other. "Are we sure he cheated on her with a woman? I mean I'm just saying. God damn his wife is hot. How much hotter could any woman be? Maybe he cheated on her with..." then they noticed that I was listening to them. "Ah, sorry sir. We're out of here. Thanks for the coffee," they said. Then they got up and got back into their squad car. A couple of houses down the block they chirped their siren and pulled over one of the neighborhood kids who was riding his bike. "Hey there, Speed Racer. Slow it down," snarled one of the cops as they drove off. * * * * * * Tabitha I remember being really pissed that morning as I got ready for work. I put on the smock that I always wore to work. For today it would be really good camouflage, because I was wearing a pair of shorts that showed my entire ass. The shorts were mostly just a waistband with pockets attached in the back and they were as small as a G-string in the front. I knew that Ryan would love them. I lifted the smock in the back and turned around and looked in the mirror I applied some lotion to my ass to make it look smoother and gave it a little shake. I'd had to become more extreme as I got to the home stretch. I didn't want Ryan to lose interest, before I got him to marry me. It was especially important now that his fat, old wife wanted a divorce. I had no idea how long divorces took but very soon Ryan and I would be married. I guess now would probably be a good time to tell him about the kids. Maybe I should break it to him gently. I'd start out by telling him that my daughter was sick. Then I could show him a picture of her. She is a really cute little thing. After he got used to the idea of Suzy, I'd break it to him that I also have three boys. Those little bastards were going to take some getting used to. They tended to destroy or piss on everything they came close to. I wasn't even sure that all of the boys were Joe Bob's. Someday I was going to have to get a DNA test done and then sit back and figure out who their fathers were. It really made no difference though, because they were all mine. "Where the fuck are you going with your ass hanging out like that?" asked my husband Joe Bob from behind me. "Since when do you care?" I asked. "Since we're still married," he said angrily. "Well that may not be the case for much longer," I said as I started brushing my hair. "Besides you've been fucking Lucinda for so long that it shouldn't matter to you if I give someone else some pussy. It's not like you're using it." "How do you know I'm not using it?" he snapped. "It's so stretched out from you squirting out four God damned kids that I don't even touch the sides when I'm in there anymore. Last week I got drunk before I came to bed and fell into your pussy. It took me the whole fucking night to climb back out and every time you pull your panties down, I can still hear the echoes of my screams." "Like I said, you probably won't have to worry about it for much longer," I told him. "If things go my way, I'll be leaving this fucking trailer park and you far behind me. You might want to make up your mind whether you want custody of the kids or you want them to go with me and you just have visitation rights. You should get some say in that, since SOME of them probably ARE your kids." I turned away from him with a smirk on my face. I know that what I'd said had hurt him, but he'd hurt me too with all of the things he'd said. In all of our time together, Joe Bob and I had argued a lot of times. We'd yelled at each other and we'd screamed at each other and we'd even given each other the silent treatment a few times. But none of those prepared me for what happened next. "What do you mean SOME?" he spat. "I don't think all of them are yours," I said matter of factly. That was my last coherent thought. He spun me around and punched me in the face as if I was a man instead of a barely five foot tall, one hundred pound woman. My head bounced off of the back wall of the small bathroom and I slid down the wall to the floor. I vaguely remember Joe Bob standing over me as if he was getting ready to hit me again. "You fucking whore," he screamed. Then he spat in my face. "I knew that both of us played around a bit because when you've been with someone since you were both barely out of diapers, things get stale Tabby. I thought that we were both just spicing things up, but I have never run off on you or those kids. There have been days when I was drunk out of my mind or so pissed at you that I couldn't see straight but I've never stopped loving you. And yeah, I know our life isn't perfect. Neither one of us has any kind of education and there aren't many jobs available but I've never run out on you and I've always done the best I could." "So yeah, I fucked Lucinda a few times, but I always wore a condom even when she didn't want me to. And I never left you for her even though she wanted me to. And I never touched Lucinda until I found out about you fucking half of your customers at the station. All of this shit you've been talking lately about leaving me has really hurt me Tabby, but I stayed. And now you're telling me that one of or some of the people I love most in the world except for you may not be mine. You're telling me that you not only played around but that you let some guy or guys knock you up and have been letting me think their kids were mine all of this time?" Even though I was dizzy, I could hear his voice break and I could see the tears in his eyes. "Fuck you, Tabby," he spat. "I'm sorry I hit you, but I just lost control." Joe Bob was crying uncontrollably by then. "I loved you Tabby. I won't stand in your way." He turned and ran out of the trailer. I tried to stand up but I was still too dizzy and too weak. I knew then that I had fucked up far worse than I'd ever imagined. I sat there feeling really bad for a few minutes and then I heard a voice. It was Ruth Anne Terwilliger who'd spoken. She lived in the trailer next door and was always stopping by to borrow things. I got the idea that the real reason she stopped by so often was because she wanted to borrow Joe Bob but it had never happened. I called out to her and she came in and saw me. She helped me up and practically carried me to her car. She was smart enough to know not to bother calling an ambulance. They never came out to the trailer parks and if they did, you could call them when you were twelve and die of old age before they got there. She took me to the free clinic a couple of miles away. We waited for about a half hour before someone saw us. He looked at my shiner and then at the bump on the back of my head. He gave me a small bottle of aspirin and told me I'd be fine. "Is that it?" I asked. "In your line of work, much worse will probably happen to you before you quit," he said. I looked at the way his face had screwed up when he said, "Your line of work." "I work in a gas station," I said. He laughed at that. "Sure you do," he said. "Don't worry about it. We don't judge. We get professionals in here all the time. And dancers too," he added as an after-thought. As he walked away, I looked at the way I was dressed and realized that I'd crossed a line somewhere. I was a mother of four who honesty didn't know who the fathers of all of her children were. I was dressed in a pair of shorts that were tinier than any bikini and wondering why a doctor would think I was a whore. I had alienated the man I'd loved since before I was in high school because he was doing the same thing I was, but at least he'd had the decency to use protection. Joe Bob hustled doing odd jobs and brought in more money than I did and unlike me, who spent most of mine on cigarettes, beer and clothes, he paid the bills with his. And I'd still decided somehow that I was better than the life we have. I decided that I deserved more than what we have. For some reason, I thought that I was special. Looking at that doctor and the way he looked at me, made me realize that I'd been prioritizing the wrong things. If I was going to get my family out of the trailer park, it had to be done with both Joe Bob and me working together. Maybe one of us should keep working while the other worked part time and went to school. Then the one who went to school could get a better job and move us into a real house or apartment while the other went to school. It would take time, but we'd wasted so much time already. We'd had our fun, now it was time for us to work. While our friends were busting their asses in college, we'd been making babies and moving into our trailer. Now, a lot of them had careers and great jobs and we were still living in a trailer and there were six of us now. I guess the thing that really made me think about it was the fact that I'd seen the devastation in Joe Bob's eyes. I also had to admit that all of this was my fault. Joe Bob hadn't started screwing Lucinda until I'd been at it for years. I'd often screwed guys who came into the gas station in motels, in their cars; anywhere that I thought I could get away with it. And I mostly did it because I just kept hoping I could find someone who wanted to fuck me so bad he'd give me another life. It took seeing the hurt in Joe Bob's eyes to make me realize that I really did love him and I was sure he loved me. When I got back home, we were going to have to sit down and have a really serious talk about our future and our marriage. Lucinda had to go, but so did Ryan and everyone else except for the six of us. "Do you want to go to the police station next?" asked Ruth Anne. I looked at her like she was crazy. "For what?" I asked. "So you can make a report, Honey," she said. "I know your husband hit you. He shouldn't get away with that." "Ruth Anne, I appreciate you bringing me down here, but can you just take me home?" I said. "But he hit you," she said. "And did you know that he's been..." "He's been screwing my cousin Lucinda, right?" I asked. She nodded. "Ruth Anne he's been screwing Lucinda for about six months. I've been cheating on him for years. He snapped when I told him that my four year old daughter and possibly my six year old son might not be his. He loves those kids. He probably loves them more than I do. I think I hurt him more than that punch hurt me." "Why would you do that?" she asked. She just stared at me like I had three heads or something. I had no answer, but I didn't need one because my phone rang and saved me from having to come up with one. * * * * * * Melanie As I stepped out of the shower, I heard movement from downstairs. I put on a robe and went downstairs. "Officers," I called out. "It's just me Mel," said Ryan. "Ryan, you shouldn't still be here. Remember the restraining order?" I said. "I just wanted to talk to you Mel," he said. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Isn't there some way we can stop this?" "Ryan, please don't do this," I said. "I need time to get my thoughts together. You need to get a lawyer. When we get our lawyers, they can arrange a meeting and we can work all of this out then." "But I don't want to work this out with lawyers," he said. "Why can't the two of us just sit down and talk." "Ryan, we did that last time," I said. "You broke my heart last time, but I loved you so much that I put my pride aside and gave you another chance because ever since I met you, I just wanted to be married to you. I know that no one is perfect. No marriage is perfect, Ryan. I thought that last time was just one mistake and it might even make us stronger. So I swallowed the hurt. And after a few months, you went back to the same pattern. I don't know if you were cheating on me the whole time, but I was always alone. You were always working or doing something that simply didn't involve me or us." "But..." he began. I held up my hand so he'd let me finish. "Ryan, my father owns the company and he has plenty of time for my mom. I see my father more often than I see you and we don't even live in the same suburb. We haven't had a marriage for a very long time Ryan. I can be alone all by myself. I even felt alone sometimes when I was with you. Your cheating on me didn't even really hurt because it was just another symptom of a marriage that failed a long time ago. Now you need to leave or I'll have to call the police." "Okay, Honey," he said sadly. "I don't want to upset you. So I'll go. But I'm going to fight with everything that I have to show you that I've changed. This isn't over. WE aren't over." "Ryan, if you'd cared this much during our marriage...it wouldn't be over," I said. As he closed the door, I felt a sense of relief. I slumped to the floor and sat at the top of the stairs, watching through the big bay windows in the front of the house as he drove away. I didn't feel a sense of elation. Who would be happy that their marriage was over? Even a marriage as one sided as mine had been takes a heavy toll on you when it dies. Your life changes forever and it leaves you all kinds of self-doubt. I wasn't an old woman yet, but I wasn't a hot, young chick anymore either. Men my age all wanted younger women. If I did choose to start dating again, most of the men I'd find would be either defective in some way which would explain why they hadn't been married before, or they'd be divorced guys who mostly just wanted some woman to fuck or at best an FWB relationship. I wanted neither of those, so my future looked bleak. I have several friends who are divorced and not a single one of them is happy...well there's Theresa. But she got divorced because her husband found out that she'd been cheating on him every time he left town on business. All she really wanted was to go out and fuck a lot of guys and now she has that, so she should be happy. But I still think that eventually she's going to regret what she lost and maybe I will too. I forced those thought out of my head. I was becoming depressed. I dropped my robe off on the floor and bounded into the office, my office now, completely naked. It felt kind of dirty to do that, but this was my house now, mine alone. Just thinking that started my mind analyzing every thought that I had all over again. The words I concentrated on were, "House," and "Alone." The word house threw me because I'd said this was my house not my home. I guess in my mind a house only becomes a home when you fill it with love and have someone to share it with. And that brought up the second word, "Alone." For the first time in my life, I was unsure about what my next step would be. I'd grown up with my parents helping me to make decisions about my future. In high school, my guidance counselor had told me how to get into a good college and even helped me decide which field I should consider going into. Before I left college and embarked on my journey into adulthood, I already had Ryan and we'd planned what we thought would be our future together. I had all kinds of possibilities in front of me and no clue of how to proceed. The one thing I did know was that whatever my future held, Ryan would no longer be a part of it. I sat my naked ass down on the seat of my office chair. Maybe that could be my future. I could be one of those women who worked in those online sex services. I could sit here naked in front of a web cam and flash my titties. They really had gotten bigger as I got older. I cupped them and posed in front of the computer screen that wasn't even on. I laughed as I realized that I could never do that. Ryan's lover, Tabitha, probably could and she'd probably be good at it. After all, she was sexy enough to take my husband away from me despite how much I'd loved him. Despite the fact that I thought the pending divorce wasn't affecting me badly, I realized then that it really had. I was definitely out of sorts. I couldn't for the life of me remember why I'd actually come into the office. I was unfocused and forgetful. I tended to lapse into periods of pondering my situation or wondering what I'd done that was so wrong that made my husband unable to remain faithful to me. As I thought about that, my eyes settled on the computer in front of me and I remembered that I'd come in here to see if my lawyer had emailed me. I booted the computer and opened my email program. As I scanned my message box I noticed an email from my online pen pal. I opened it immediately. The letter was beautiful. He had some type of email stationery with all kinds of flowers and smiling faces on it. It was like some kind of online card that he'd written a very personal message on. My eyes teared up all over again. The flowers on the email reminded me of another really shitty fact about my marriage. The last two times that I'd gotten flowers had been on my birthday and Mother's day. And both times they'd come from "B," as he signed his emails, not from Ryan. It was really touching and I think that we'd crossed a line then. I remember how he'd very tentatively asked me for my address. I think that both of us realized that we were taking a step that we probably shouldn't have taken. But I never once felt threatened by him. And I know that thousands of women all over the planet make the mistake of giving some guy that they met online their addresses and end up being stalked or hurt by them. But I thought I'd be okay. I guess I was so God damned lonely that even having a stalker would be better than the loneliness. Anyway, he repaid my trust by sending me a beautiful bouquet of flowers for my birthday. He hadn't sent a card, because he didn't want to put my marriage in jeopardy, as if he could. Ryan just assumed the flowers were from my mom and dad. Ryan had, of course, as usual, forgotten my birthday completely. But those flowers made my day. I spent most of the day wondering who'd sent them until I got his email that day asking me if I liked them. The next time that he'd sent me flowers was on Mother's day. It came as a complete surprise and was one of the most thoughtful things I'd ever seen. I tended to tell him everything in our letters. And I think that he was the only person who knew how badly I wanted a child. Ryan always told me it just wasn't the right time in our lives.