38 comments/ 60216 views/ 14 favorites Evil Cheating / Strong Response By: amyyum I've always been smart – except when it comes to matters of the heart. As early as third grade I remember my teacher, Mrs. Grimes, telling me "Amy, honey, there is no reason to cry over Brad Hamilton not liking you. Little boys can be jerks. You're the smartest kid in class – use your brain, not your emotion." I tried to listen to her advice – I guess not very successfully. All through High School and college I usually led with my chin in relationships. You would think that someone who was valedictorian of not only her High School but her Ivy League University class would be able to figure out not to do that, but I never did. Most of my romantic relationships ended badly. It wasn't that I was not attractive – most guys would consider both my body and my face to be in the top 20-25% of women my age, although no one would ever beat down my door to get me to do swimsuit modelling – and the three guys that I had had sex with (before graduate school) never complained about my enthusiasm or performance. Apparently I was either not too lovable, or too needy, and things never seemed to work out. Even though I was not much of an athlete, in addition to getting great grades I excelled in something else throughout High School and college. I was an accomplished actress. I had the lead in many school plays, and in summer stock. Although I never wanted to be a professional thespian I honestly believed that I had the talent to become one if I really wanted to. When studying for my MBA I came up with the idea for a great new business. It required several people with different abilities in order to get off the ground, but it was a sure thing if properly implemented. I got one male (Patrick) and one female (Brenda) classmate, each with vastly different areas of expertise, to join me in a start-up as soon as we got our MBAs. I had stopped looking for a mate and instead hooked up with a fuck buddy (Chalmers) in graduate school. I got the seed capital that we needed from my fuck buddy Chalmers, who had dropped out of the MBA program because he got bored with it and he had so much family money that he didn't need to work. I got 55% of the stock in our startup and the other three got 15% each. By two years after our company got off the ground we were extremely successful. Chalmers, the money man, had already gotten all of his capital back and was enjoying substantial dividends for not having to do anything except show up for an occasional board meeting and treat Brenda, Patrick, and me to a lavish dinner or weekend. Brenda and Patrick were great in their jobs, and I flourished as the CEO and idea person. It was then that I met Todd. I ran into Todd at some conference – I don't even remember what it was about. He is my age and the best looking guy, for my tastes, that I had ever seen. While he had a college degree he apparently wasn't very motivated because he was the lowest level person from his company that attended the conference. Todd lived in the closest city to where my business was; it was only about twenty five miles away. I was shocked and thrilled when called me up after the conference and asked me out because to my way of thinking he had the looks and charm to get virtually any girl that he wanted. I never had fucked a guy on the first date before – in fact not on the second, third or fourth either, for that matter – but he was so goddamn sexy and my reaction to him was so strong that we ended up fucking in his car on the first date. I had never been fucked in a car before, either. Our second date was the day after our first one. We just went to dinner and without even bothering for desert or coffee quickly went to my apartment. On a bed, instead of the back seat of a car, he was all time. I had my first orgasm when he just touched my clit with a finger. I had my second when he gave me a "shocker" (two fingers in the slit, one in the shit; two in the gash, one in the stash; or dozens of other euphemisms). I had my third when his tongue touched my clit while a finger still remained in my pucker hole. The fourth came as soon as his perfect cock unceremoniously penetrated my pussy. A fifth orgasm, so mammoth that it rendered me temporarily unconscious for the first time in my life, resulted from him injecting what it seemed like was a pint of cum into me. Before Todd and I got out of bed the next morning – a Sunday – we had had virtually no sleep, but he had had three orgasms and I had had so many that I couldn't count them all. I was on cloud nine when he told me "You made me cum harder and with more enjoyment than any other women in my life. It seems like your pussy fits my cock perfectly, and your pelvic action is all time! Plus, you could suck the chrome off of a trailer hitch." "You bring out the best in me," was my smiling reply. I quickly fell for Todd, and apparently he for me, since we got married within six months of our first of many Saturday-Sunday fuck fests. He wasn't perfect because he was not particularly motivated and lacked passion for anything except fucking – but he was charming, pleasant, and easy-going in addition to being a sex God, so I jumped at the chance to marry him. His main drawback was his mother. His father had died at an early age, and he was close to her. She was a very attractive woman – considering how good-looking her son was that wasn't surprising – but a total bitch. Despite my intelligence, wealth, and much better than average looks I apparently wasn't good enough for him in her eyes. However, since she lived about a thousand miles away, and didn't have much money, fortunately I didn't have to deal with her face-to-face more than two or three times a year. When it became clear that I was going to marry Todd my business partners had a come-to-Jesus meeting with me. "You're going to have to have a pre-nuptial agreement," Patrick told me flat out. "Why is that?" I naively inquired. "We can't have anything affect the company; you can never know if a relationship will end in divorce no matter how rosy it is, but you can't let a divorce destroy or complicate what we have here," Brenda sternly admonished. Chalmers wasn't too concerned because he had so much money from other interests. He was distressed, however, that once I started dating Todd that I never hooked up with him again. Sometimes I wonder if his initial investment was just to facilitate our occasional fuck fests. After a talk with our company attorney, who was even more insistent than Patrick and Brenda were, if you can believe that, I presented Todd with a pre-nup that the attorney had drafted. I was very pleased when Todd wasn't particularly non-plussed by it and signed it the day after I gave it to him. It provided that if we divorced for any reason that he would leave with everything that he brought into the marriage plus $1 million or 50% of my non-business assets acquired during the marriage, whichever was less, but not less than $200,000. No alimony was to go from either party to the other. In no event would Todd have any claim to anything associated with the business. I bought a house just before we got married, and Todd moved in with me and got a new job in the city my business is in. I thought that the first three years of our marriage were great, including sex an average of five times a week. Todd and I jointly decided to start a family on our three year anniversary, but got more than we bargained for when I got pregnant within a month of when I went off birth control. When I started to get really, really big I had a sonogram and found out that I was having triplets. There were no multiple births in either my family or Todd's, and we weren't using fertility drugs, so that was shocking news. By the time that I was seven and a half months pregnant I was incapacitated. We had to hire a housekeeper-cook and I had to conduct business from my bed, including having my secretary at my house most of the day Monday-Saturday. Fortunately, I had a fairly normal delivery – as normal as you can have when you spit out triplets – and our two little boys and little girl were all healthy. I was out of commission sexually for about five months counting both before and after the babies' deliveries. While Todd lamented that he was thrilled by becoming a father and took it surprisingly well considering our active sex life up until I was about six months pregnant. We had to hire an experienced full time nanny because three active babies at the same time is way more than two inexperienced people can handle even if we didn't have jobs. After the kids were a year old Todd lost his job. I was a little suspicious about that because I never had any inkling that it was in danger, but never made any inquiry about it. His attitude about it was more positive than negative. "Say, Amy, do you mind if I become a house-husband? While Mrs. Jensen is a good nanny, wouldn't you rather that one of us be the primary care giver for our kids? Rather than looking for a new job I should assume the most important one of all, taking care of the kids." We had no money problems. My company had become the industry leader in a few short years and we had more than we could reasonably spend despite the fact that we had already fully funded all three kids' college education accounts. Since I didn't find out about the Navajo Indians until much later, after a few days thought, and detailed discussions with Mrs. Jensen and Todd I agreed. He became a full time caregiver, and we put Mrs. Jensen on part time, about twenty hours a week. You may legitimately ask "What do the Navajo Indians have to do with that?" I'll tell you. Anthropologists were long puzzled why the Navajo's had about four times the incident of albinism that they should have had. In doing a detailed study they found that the albino men were treated specially, and did not have to go out to the fields or hunting during the day like the rest of the Navajo men. That gave them a sexual advantage. Stupid me! Apparently Todd did albino Navajo men proud. I didn't catch on until the triplets were four years old; since I was getting serviced an average of three times a week by Todd and he never outwardly changed his attitude toward me. I was fat, dumb and happy (that's just an expression; actually I was far from fat, having gone back to my pre-pregnancy weight of 120 pounds in my five foot six inch frame within six months of delivering the kids). The details of how I caught on to Todd's dalliances are not particularly important. They did include an anonymous tip from a former paramour who had been jilted by Todd, a review of his cell phone and email records, and a few overheard conversations. As I guess is normal, at first I rationalized the evidence, but eventually realized that he was fucking around and not too discretely at that. I came home one morning after the kids were in pre-school specifically to catch him in the act; and unfortunately was successful. He was just about to start fucking a naked woman named Cheryl – in our bed, no less. I went ballistic and smacked her good. Fortunately she smacked me back so that we both ended up with facial trauma otherwise I probably would have been arrested for assault. Todd's reaction once the cunt was evicted was shocking. He bluntly told me that she was a better fuck than I was after I had the kids and that if I wanted him to stay around that I'd have to accept a couple of sessions a week with her, or maybe someone else. Unfortunately I got a real surprise when I immediately filed for divorce, tried to get Todd evicted from the house that I alone owned, and joint custody of the kids. Todd got a decent lawyer who argued that he was the children's primary caregiver, which is something that I had agreed to years earlier, and that he should get sole custody. Our state had recently passed an "equality in marriage" or some such act which the family court judge that we were assigned interpreted to mean that I got no preference whatsoever as the mother, breadwinner, or wronged party. Further, in view of my episode with Cheryl where I had smacked her, that I should be the one to move out until everything with the divorce was settled. I didn't like the male judge's attitude. "What the hell do you mean that I have to move out of the house that I own and paid for while he gets to fuck whomever he wants in it?" I screamed. "Mrs. Simmons-Pratt, sit down and shut up or I'll hold you in contempt," he blared. "I already hold you in contempt so that will make us even," I snarled. Fortunately I had a good attorney that the Judge liked and he intervened and at least kept me out of jail, although I was fined $500 (BFD). Even more fortunately my attorney suggested that we hire the Judge's daughter – a local attorney – as co-counsel so that he would have to recuse himself and we would get another judge. I jumped at that chance. With the new judge I was able to get visitation rights whenever I wanted, including getting custody during the weekends. Todd was making the divorce as difficult as possible, however. I'm sure that his goal was to get a more favorable deal than the ironclad pre-nup provided, and was using the initial ruling and attempt at sole custody of the kids as leverage. I knew that he legitimately loved the kids, and they him, so I never even attempted sole custody – I was happy with joint – but he was being a real shit about it. The first judge's daughter turned out not to just be a good hire because it got him off the case – she had some real insight into handling a contentious divorce. Among the many things that she told me was to pretend that I was trying to be conciliatory, and to suck in my pride and act like I had forgiven Todd even though there was no way that I was going back with him. She also had some good ideas about how to approach just revenge, although nothing like what I eventually came up with. I did "make nice" with Todd, including even once while his cunt Cheryl was present. I even "apologized" to the cunt, though my fingers were crossed and my stomach in knots when I did that. I was, after all, a thespian and this was the most important performance of my life. While the divorce continued I was always pleasant to Todd, and though he still was, as far as I was concerned, being an ass, at least we were able to intelligently discuss things having to do with the children, and I think that he honestly believed that I didn't hate him. Now it was time to implement my revenge on him; while I despised the cunt Cheryl since I had long ago found out that she was only the latest of many, going back to when I was pregnant and sexually unavailable, I didn't need more than token revenge on her to satisfy my blood-lust. If you have money it is surprising what types of revenge you can take, when you can buy or get done almost anything you want, especially if you know the right people. By my own admission my plan was viscous – but Todd made me realize that you need to fight evil with evil. Any apprehension that I had about doing what I was about to do was overcome whenever I thought about the callous way that he treated me when I discovered his cheating, and the fact that his cheating had started while I was pregnant with his kids! By extensive research I found out about a less-than-honorable compounding pharmacy in Maine that was being prosecuted for a number of violations of consumer protection laws. The pharmacist-owner needed money badly for his legal defense. I made one call on a first burner phone to tell him what I wanted, a second call on a second burner to confirm that it was available, and then in a professional disguise personally went to see him so as not to leave any electronic trail. He was happy to make up what I wanted for $25,000 in cash; an almost tasteless and colorless compound in liquid form that would cause abdominal and back pain, weight loss, nausea, and diarrhea, while not resulting in any adverse long-term effects. Todd had several habits that were more like addictions. The most important to him was to have a single malt scotch every day, specifically Aberlour 14. It's nose, palate and finish are so powerful that even if the compound I bought wasn't tasteless it would have been virtually impossible to detect. While Todd had the key-operated locks on the house changed he forgot about the garage door and the keypad from the garage into the house. I waited until he was out on Tuesday, went through the garage, and poured some of my newly acquired liquid into his single malt Scotch. Saturday when I went to pick up the kids for my weekend with them Todd didn't look too good. "Todd, what's wrong? You really seem to be ailing," I said in as sincere a tone as I could muster. "I have pain right here," Todd replied, pointing to his abdomen, "and my back hurts like hell." "Do you have nausea or diarrhea?" I inquired with seemingly even more concern in my voice. "Yeah, I've had some episodes." "Have you lost any weight – you look thinner," I continued with a frown. "I haven't got on a scale, but my pants are looser," he moaned. "Todd, you need to go see a doctor." "Cheryl says I'll be fine," he mumbled. "Since when is she some fucking medical expert," I said under my breath after making sure that the kids were traipsing around the front yard and out of earshot. When that got the expected angry look from him I immediately apologized. "I'm sorry, Todd – I shouldn't have phrased it like that. But you are the primary caregiver of our kids, and I can't have you dying on them. How about if I have Betsy Granger give you a call?" Betsy Granger is a doctor and an old friend of mine who Todd has met many times and hit on at parties for free medical advice relating to the kids. Todd's angry look disappeared. "OK... that can't hurt, I guess." "Do you have anything for your nausea?" I asked. "No, not really – that just started yesterday," he replied. "I'll be right back with something," I responded. I hustled the kids in the car and then drove them to the local park for twenty minutes, before promising to take them to the zoo. I already had a bottle of over-the-counter nausea medicine which I had doctored with my special liquid. I drove back to the house, told the kids to wait in the car, and went back to the front door; Todd answered, but only after three rings. "Sorry to disturb you, Todd, but I got what is supposed to be the best anti-nausea medicine. Let's get some in you," I said, almost pushing past him to go to the kitchen. "Is this really necessary?" he asked "If this doesn't help you may have a serious problem," I said, pretending to break the seal on the cap, and then pouring out two ounces in a glass. "Drink this," I said, handing the glass to him. Todd drank it and made a face. "Doesn't taste very good." "Wash it down with some of your precious Aberlour 14," I said without hesitation, "that makes anything taste good, doesn't it?" "Yeah, I will....thanks." "See you Sunday right after dinner, about 7:00 p.m.," I chirped as I walked toward the door. "Feel better." I pumped my fist as I scurried to the car. After the kids and I had a full day and I got them dinner and to bed in a furnished house I had rented, reading them only one story they were so tired, I called my good friend Betsy Granger. "Hi, Betsy; how come I caught you in on a Saturday night? I was expecting your voicemail," I chuckled. "I was on call until just an hour ago, and had two emergencies today, so it's lucky that John and I had no plans because I'm too tired to do anything except get the foot massage John promised me," she chortled. "Well I sure don't want to keep you from that – but I have a problem. Can you give me a couple of minutes?" "Sure, Amy – shoot!" "Well I saw Todd today and he looked horrible. I wouldn't give a damn except that he is the primary care giver for our kids, and I really need for him to see a doctor, but he's not inclined to," I said in my most serious voice. Evil Cheating / Strong Response "What are his symptoms?" Betsy asked. "Abdominal and back pain, weight loss, nausea and diarrhea. I'm not about to play doctor, but I did look them up on the Internet and they all point to a number of serious conditions," I replied in an even more solemn tone. After a pause Betsy spoke. "I'm not an oncologist, but from what I know the most serious real possibility is pancreatic cancer, especially since this came up suddenly, didn't it?" "Oh shit – pancreatic cancer! Yeah, his symptoms did come up very suddenly; he was fine last weekend and real sick today. Can you give him a call and tell him to see someone? Low pressure, of course." "Sure; is his number the same as your previous home number?" "Yes. By the way, isn't Tim Roberts an oncologist?" I subtly inquired. "Yes; but will Todd go to someone he knows?" "Todd doesn't know him, even though you and I do. Maybe you could recommend him." "I'll suggest that to Todd since I know that Tim is a great doctor," Betsy replied. "Thanks so, so much, Betsy, I owe you one – now go get that foot massage – but call Todd first," I laughed. "You slave driver," Betsy giggled in reply. "Will do." My next call, on yet another burner phone, was to a local doctor who had lost his medical license and who – like the pharmacist I had worked with – was also desperate for money. I had hired him for $1,000 cash up front, $5,000 more when his job was done. "Dr. James; this is Ms. Jones. You will likely shortly be receiving a call from Todd Pratt on the 3287 burner phone that I gave you. You know what to do," I said into the receiver. "Yes I do know what to do; I'll report as per your instructions," James replied then hung up. After a delay long enough to be sure that Betsy had called Todd I called him. "Todd, did you talk to Betsy?" "Yes...groan... I just got off the phone with her." "What did she recommend?" "She...cough...groan... said that I should see an oncologist; Tim somebody." "Tim Roberts?" "Yeah, I guess...groan." "You're in luck. I have his emergency number since I recommended him to another friend a few months back and since Betsy and I both know him and his wife from college. Now write this down – Todd, do you hear me, write this number down and then call him!" "Oh – OK – let me get a pen... OK, ... groan... go ahead." "His emergency number is xxx-xxx-3287. Call him – you're the caregiver for our kids, you have to do it for them! Got it!" "xxx-xxx-3287; I'll call right now. Thanks," Todd replied in a weak voice. Early afternoon on Sunday I got a call from Dr. James on my burner cell. After we exchanged terse greetings he got right to the point. "I visited Mr. Pratt at his home yesterday. A woman who introduced herself as Cheryl was also there. I inquired about his symptoms, gave him a thorough examination, suggested that he take some more nausea medicine, drew some blood, got his health insurance information, and told him that I'd put a rush on the blood work and get back to him Tuesday." "Had they checked Tim Roberts out on the Internet?" I asked. "Yes, as you expected they had, which gave me instant credibility. I guess you were lucky that there is no photo of him on his website," James replied. "Luck had nothing to do with it. Tim is a great guy, and doctor, but due to an accident when he was in college his face is not one that would inspire confidence in potential patients, so I wasn't surprised that he never posted a photo on his website," I responded. "Whatever," James obnoxiously replied. "Did Todd ask what he might have?" I inquired. "Of course; I asked him if he wanted me to be straight with him. When he replied 'Yes,' I told him that it most likely was pancreatic cancer and if that was the case that he only had only a couple of weeks to live." "What was his reaction?" I asked, trying to hide my glee. "What you would expect. He slumped down in his chair, mumbled something like 'Oh Shit,' and then closed his eyes." "What was the woman's reaction?" I asked, this time for sure not really hiding my glee. "She looked more disgusted than concerned," James replied. I had to cover the mouthpiece of the phone to stifle my laugh. "Thanks, Doc. After you call him Tuesday with his confirmatory blood test results I'll bring you your cash, as agreed." "Can you bring it all in twenties?" James inquired. "I'll bring it any way you like it – plus a bonus for a job well done," I replied and then terminated the call. When I dropped the kids off Sunday night Todd looked even worse. "God, Todd – you look like Hell. Have you made an appointment with a doctor yet?" were my first, 'concerned,' words. "Yeah, I saw one yesterday, the Roberts guy Betsy recommended" he moaned. "I really need to talk, Amy; can you put the kids to bed first, I feel like shit." I pretended to be surprised. "OK; sure...as long as Cheryl isn't here." "She isn't and won't be back tonight," he mumbled without making eye contact. "Right," I replied, laughing on the inside but retaining my composure on the outside. I hurried upstairs, got the kids ready for bed, read them two stories, and then went back downstairs. Todd was slumped over on the couch. "What gives, Todd; what did the doctor say?" Todd sighed. "I won't know for sure until Tuesday, but the doctor said that it's probably pancreatic cancer." "What?" I yelled. "That's fatal!" "I know," Todd moaned, with tears forming in his eyes. "He said that I had about two weeks to live if it is pancreatic cancer." Falling back on my thespian roots tears welled in my eyes. I went and sat next to Todd and held his head against my chest. In the past this would have turned me on and my pussy would already be leaking. Now it sickened me, but "the show must go on." I just sat there patting Todd's head as he quietly sobbed. "When will Cheryl be back?" I asked with a gentle tone. "She said that she got an emergency call from her Mom; but I think my illness is too much for her to handle. I don't know when she'll be back," he sobbed. After a pause I asked "What shall we do about the kids? Can you take care of them?" Todd's sobbing was now more dramatic. After a long delay he sniveled out "I can't do what I need to do as a father. Can you take them; at least until I find out for sure about my condition?" "Of course, Todd; we have to do what's best for the kids. Let me make a few calls right now; can you just lie on the couch? Do you want a Scotch?" I said trying to suppress a snicker. "Thhh...anks, Amy; yeah, a Scotch would be great." I made him another Scotch and watched him drink it and then pretended to be on my cellphone for the next half hour. When I got off I somberly said "At least some good news. I can stay home tomorrow and get help for the kids for the rest of the week. I probably should stay in the guest room tonight so that I don't have to wake up the kids. If the news is bad I'll arrange for hospice care for you, OK?" With a glazed expression Todd looked up at me. "Thanks, Amy." I helped him to bed, got my overnight bag out of my car, and quickly fell asleep in the guest room, despite how giddy I was that my plan was working perfectly. The next morning I made breakfast for the kids, made sure that Todd took more of his spiked nausea medicine, then took the kids to my rental house. I worked from home Monday and Tuesday, with help from a temporary nanny, Mrs. Jensen having resigned from Todd's employ when she found out about (and reported to me) his affairs. Once former doctor James called me on Tuesday to tell me that he had told Todd that the blood test confirmed that he had pancreatic cancer and that he likely had about two weeks to live I had the nanny watch the kids, put on my professional disguise, and drove to James' house. I parked a block away and walked up to his door and rang the bell. When he answered I handed him a brown bag. "$5,000 cash, in twenties, like we agreed, plus a $1,000 bonus in fifties for a job well done," I said trying to disguise my voice. James got a big smile on his face. "This really helps me – times have been really tough since I lost my license. If you need me again, let me know." "Will do," I replied, then turned and walked away. I removed my disguise and went to see Todd. I had to pound on the door for five minutes before he answered – I didn't want to go in through the garage because I didn't want him to know that I had access to the house. When he answered it was clear that he was emotionally drained. "Did Dr. Roberts call you?" were my first words. "Yes.... I have two weeks to live," he blurted out between sobs. I comforted him as I led him to the living room couch. "Is Cheryl here?" "No, she left; she said that she had to go see her Mom, but I know that that cunt deserted me. I never should have cheated on you, Amy – I'm so sorry," he said while bawling so much that it was almost unintelligible. "Yeah, I'll bet you're sorry now you fucking asshole," I said to myself while continuing to offer words of encouragement out loud. After about a half an hour Todd had settled down. I brought him another drink of his spiked Scotch, then said "Todd, we have to talk about the kids' future." "Amy... I... this is hard to say... I don't want to continue the divorce; I'll die married to my kids' mother," Todd moaned. "Todd, you're illness has made it so that you're not thinking straight. Anticipating the bad news, let me tell you what's best for you, the kids, and your mother; OK, Hon?" The word "Hon" almost choked me. "What, Amy?" "We both sign divorce papers immediately that indicate that the $1 million you get from the pre-nup automatically vests; you leave all your assets, which are really just the $1 million and your personal possessions, in your will to your Mom. If we don't do that, and stay married, then your Mom will get nothing when you die," I said in a serious voice. After a pause Todd got as big a smile as he could muster and said "You'd do that for me and my Mom?" "Hon," I replied, again almost choking, "I know how much your Mom means to you, and there is no reason for me to be mean to you now that you are on death's door." "Thanks, dear," Todd responded, misty eyed. "To make sure that the kids are probably taken care of we should have joint custody for three weeks, and after that I have sole custody, and if a miracle happens and you live longer than that, you have liberal visitation rights. Of course I'll bring them to see you ever day," I said, squeezing Todd's hand. After he smiled the best he could and said "Thank you... you're wonderful," I said "how about another Scotch to ease your pain." The next day I got Todd, with his attorney present, to sign the divorce settlement and his new will leaving all his money and possessions to his mother, or if she pre-deceased him to his kids. I added a proviso that I would pay for his hospice care until he died or no longer needed it. The papers were filed with the Court the next day, and my female attorney who was a judge's daughter made sure that they would be expedited by the clerk of the court. I also deposited a check for $1 million into an account just in Todd's name. I moved Todd into a fake hospice care facility that same day. I removed from the house the spiked Scotch and nausea medicine and disposed of them many miles away, and replaced them with new bottles from which I poured out the same amount as was gone from the disposed-of bottles. When I brought the kids to see Todd the next day I had some "good news" for him. "Todd, I've paid for your Mom to be here tomorrow. Even better, I've been searching the whole world for someone who's got an experimental treatment for pancreatic cancer, and I found something. A doctor in Romania has a chemical that either cures it within ten days, or kills you within two. Are you game to try it?" "Hell yes!" Todd virtually screamed. I got the fake release papers for the "experimental treatment" prepared and signed by both Todd and his Mom, and gave the fake hospice doctor a saline solution to inject into Todd. The fake experimental drug protocol called for Todd to be injected five days in a row. I made sure that they used really dull needles so that it would inflict maximum pain on him. It took ten days for the chemicals that I had been plying Todd with to be purged from his system. Since he was weak from three weeks of inactivity he didn't really start feeling better for another four days; by then he had had a "miracle" recovery. I continued to treat Todd nicely. I had him move into the house that I had leased since the rent was paid up for two more months, and I didn't want him to get suspicious about his illness or miraculous recovery. I even tried to be nice to his mother, which got a little easier since she had been changed by the situation and became only a half bitch instead of the total bitch that she had been since the day I met her. Finally, I gave Todd visitation rights every weekday. I would get the triplets ready for preschool in the morning and the nanny – who I now had on full time – would drive them to school. Todd would pick them up from school about noon and have time with them until four p.m., at which time he would drop them off with the nanny; I would get home about 6:30, at which time I would have dinner with them, and with the nanny's help get them in bed by 8:30. I don't know exactly what Todd's motivation was but he was making a concerted effort to be nice to me too, including calling me every day to tell me that he had dropped the kids off. He even begged to go with the kids and me to the playground, zoo, or other kid friendly places on Sunday, the nanny's day off. After he helped me get kids ready for bed one Sunday after they had become ultra-cranky due to too much stimulation that day he didn't leave right away. "Can we have a Scotch and talk for a few minutes?" he asked. "I'll give you a foot rub if you still have some of my Aberlour 14 around?" "I think so," I laughed walking toward the liquor cabinet. "I'd think that you would have bad associations with that stuff from your illness, though." "No, actually, it was one of the few things – aside from your kindness – that got me through it. In fact I even bought myself a fifth of Aberlour 18 to celebrate my recovery," he said with a smile. "How much did that cost you?" I asked. "$75, I think; worth every penny," he continued as I handed him the one-third full bottle of Aberlour 14 that I had replaced the doctored bottle with. After he poured himself a tumbler of Scotch and me a glass of wine we went into the living room, I sat on the couch and put my feet up. He removed my shoes and started rubbing. It felt sooo fucking good that I literally purred. As he was working on me, while we each occasionally sipped our drinks, he started his "talk." "Say, Amy – I know that I treated you like shit and I have no right to ask, but do you think that it is possible that we might get together again?" Without even opening my eyes I said "Oh, right there, Todd – that feels good. What was it that you asked?" Obviously I had heard him but I wanted to inflict maximum pain on him by acting blasé; I had no intention of even seriously considering getting back together with him as a couple, but I did want something from him. With young three kids and a high pressure job I didn't have time to date, and not much desire to either since I had been burned so badly by Todd; but that didn't mean that my pussy didn't need attention. After a pause and some more foot rubbing, Todd said "Uh, what I asked, well, was, uh, even though I have no right to ask uh maybe we could think of getting back together." "What's wrong with Cheryl – I thought that she was your true love; oh yeah, on the ball of my right foot, yeah," I smugly and nonchalantly replied. "Well, this is embarrassing, but she turned out to be either really shallow or a gold-digger. I never heard from her again when she took off when she thought that I was terminally ill, and I have no interest in trying to contact the bitch." "Well you're a good looking and sexy guy Todd, and since you're not tied down with triplets I'm sure that you can find someone better than me," I replied, again without opening my eyes and as nonchalantly as possible. "Plus, I don't think that I could ever forgive you. You're a great fuck, but I don't want a romantic relationship with a cheater." "You have every right to be mad at me, and you're unbelievably awesome for seeing me through my illness; ... but maybe there's a way that I can make it up to you. "Oh yeah, what's that?" I asked, opening up my eyes for the first time. Rather than responding verbally, Todd started moving his hands from my feet to my calves, then to my thighs. Considering how long it had been since I had been fucked, and considering that Todd fucked me way better than anyone else ever had, I saw no reason to resist. It wasn't long before his fingers were in my pussy. It wasn't long after that that my panties had been removed and his tongue was on my clit. "God he gives great oral," caromed through my mind as I started losing control. I did lose it completely when he shoved a finger up my ass just as he sucked my clit into his mouth. After I came down from my first orgasm he put my heels on his shoulders then very deliberately inserted his cock into my cunt. I came again almost immediately, and a third time as he jettisoned a mammoth load of cum into me. Maybe he hadn't had a fuck for a long time too. A fourth orgasm ensued when he sucked my clit again as his creampie was leaking out of my pussy. After that night Todd and I have fucked on a regular basis. I usually even let him stay over on Sunday night if he promises to fuck me in the middle of the night. We average two-three times a week. I keep leading him on by pretending that I might take him back full time, but at this stage all I'm really after is his cock – and oral talents. I could never trust him again, so marriage is out of the question, and if I am honest with myself I don't really love him any more either. But how often can you get a super-talented fuck buddy who your kids love, and truly loves your kids in return? It will be traumatic – for Todd, not me – if I ever do find someone else that I fall in love with. In the meantime I'm enjoying being a Mom and business executive and getting regularly serviced.