34 comments/ 68852 views/ 33 favorites Security Clearance By: imhapless I'm Brian Banks; I'm kind of a weird dude. I have borderline social anxiety, I am about as athletic as a potato, and I have no interest in drinking, sports or any other "male bonding" type of activities. I'm decent looking and thin, despite the fact that I never actually "work out," but my major attribute is that I'm smart. Actually, I'm really smart and unlike many smart people I'm also perceptive. Despite my borderline social anxiety disorder, and the fact that I skipped a grade in elementary school, because of the neighborhood I lived in and the schools I went to I was not behind when it came to sex education. I lived in a neighborhood that was lower middle class; I don't know if it was because of that, but there were lots of sexually active females around my age. I lived at home during college because one of what is considered to be one of the top five engineering universities in the world was just a ten minute commute from my house. In exchange for helping the sexually active females in my neighborhood with their homework, taking take-home tests for them, or tutoring them in various subjects both in high school and when they went to community colleges, I got tutored myself. The "tutoring" I received was in sex. I was almost always sexually satisfied between the ages of eighteen and twenty one, and more than half of the females I tutored, and who tutored me, seemed to be genuinely satisfied with my sexual abilities too. I was the beneficiary of so much "instruction" because I quickly gained a reputation for being patient and discrete, as well as smart. I was able to relate to my female companions on their intellectual level so that they easily understood the subjects that I helped them with. I was always kind and gentle with them during sex, and I never, ever, ever told anyone else that I had sex with any one of them, although I'm sure that they told each other. I had sex with eleven different women during this period, most of them multiple times, although I never had a "relationship" with any of them. It was a strict -- even if very desirable -- trade, information for pussy. Not always pussy. One young vixen introduced me to the pleasures of titty fucking, and another to anal. There was only one woman -- she always went by her street name of "Jezebel" rather than her real name, "Whitney" -- during this time period that I didn't treat gently. However, that was not because I wasn't trying to be nice to her. Jezebel is my age; she is a big woman, as tall as I am and at the time probably outweighed me by five-ten pounds, although she wasn't fat. Most of her extra weight was in her tits and muscular thighs. While her face was just ordinary, everyone who knew her -- including me -- thought that she had about the most Aphrodite-like body possible. Any guy who wasn't enthralled by little women with little tits would consider Jezebel's body "consummate!" Jezebel was very sexually active since she loved sex and could get just about any guy she wanted to fuck her. She was also athletic, and played softball and basketball in several leagues. While not particularly academic she wasn't stupid and had more ambition than most people in our neighborhood. Her primary goal was to own a porn studio or website. I tutored her mostly in math and business matters that would help her work toward that goal. Jezebel told me -- and I believed her -- that I was the only guy she let fuck her bareback, because she was sure that I had no STDs. She was the first woman ever to ride me reverse cowgirl, and almost ripped my dick off as she bounced up and down while at the same time massaging my balls. When I fucked her doggy, she kept yelling "Harder, fuck me harder, you bastard," no matter how much effort I put into it. She seemed to enjoy it; but whether she was faking an orgasm or it was real she always let out a primordial scream when I came in her, and told me afterward that it was great. Jezebel was the only one of my women "acquaintances" whoever fucked me without having me provide her some academic service first. Six times -- I remember exactly how many because they made an indelible impression on my socially awkward psyche -- she simply called me up during the night and asked if I needed a good fuck. When I showed up at her apartment in response to her calls she delivered -- in spades. I never fell in love with Jezebel, but I sure did like her, and would have done anything for her even if she didn't fuck me in return. My senior year in college I invented a readily programmable, encrypted, sophisticated proximity detector. It's kind of like the EZ-pass system used on many toll roads in the United States, only specifically for secure systems. Various forms of my detectors were adopted by corporations with proprietary systems, many government agencies both State and Federal, and the military. I actually had to get a security clearance to participate in the patenting of my own inventions. As a result of my inventions I got gobs of money in patent royalties and set up two companies to sell the products to different markets, and to research new products. Because I have no managerial abilities, and am interested only in inventing and engineering products, I had my attorneys set up a web of shell and holding corporations that owned my two operating companies and hired people to run those corporations. I owned all of the stock in the ultimate holding company, but someone would have to be really sophisticated and spend days searching in order to find that out. I never used my web of companies to cheat on taxes, but some were located off-shore just to make it more difficult for anyone who was looking at ownership to find me. The only people who knew that I was the ultimate boss were the CEOs and CFOs of my two operating companies. To everyone else I was simply the salaried head of the new product engineering department of one of the operating companies. By the time that I turned twenty four I had all of the mechanisms set forth above set up and was looking for a long term relationship with a female. Things were difficult for me because of my borderline social anxiety and since I was no longer trading my brain power for sex, but after going through a number of on-line dating sites and diverse social groups, when I was twenty six I finally met someone that I was smitten with and who was interested in me. Allison was probably the best looking woman who ever showed any real romantic interest in me. In addition to a beautiful face she had a very nice body, highlighted by a pair of boobs that I considered world class. They were -- to my tastes -- just the right size, texture, and firmness, and were topped by puffy nipples! I LOVE puffy nipples! Although we had a fairly conventional courtship, looking back on it I now see that it was more superficial than most. I guess I was so enamored with her looks -- and especially those awesome tits -- that I overlooked some things that many would consider important in a spouse. One thing that I did notice at all times during our relationship, however, was her total lack of interest in my work. She never asked anything about it, seemed bored and feigned a total lack of understanding if I ever brought anything about my work up, and was totally devoid of curiosity whatsoever. Allison's lack of interest in my work was actually an advantage when it came to a pre-nuptial agreement. Gail, one of the attorneys that helped me set up my corporations -- and someone who I greatly respected -- insisted that I get a pre-nup. In fact when I was wavering back and forth about a pre-nup once I had asked Allison to marry me and she had accepted, Gail threatened to quit working for me if I didn't present Allison with a pre-nup. Gail drafted a pre-nup that was very simple and not onerous. It simply provided that the only thing exempted from community property was any stock, interest, or royalty related to any company or patent that either of us owned more than 10% of as of the date of the marriage, or even acquired during the marriage. Allison had her father review it and then signed it without even questioning me about it. Sex with Allison was always very good. Sex with her was especially good when I fucked her tits. I always had my most massive orgasms when I fucked those perfect orbs, and she always had an orgasm too, though not as large as when I fucked her pussy. She could get me to do almost anything she wanted to if I got to fuck her tits! I had been married to Allison for about two and a half years, and we already had our first child, a beautiful little girl we named Amber, when I ran into Jezebel on the street during a quick, solo, trip to my parents' house. I had offered to buy my parents a new house in a fancier community, but they were people with a simple life style and many friends in the neighborhood, so they declined. Jezebel looked good; she hadn't gained a pound since I saw her last, and was better dressed than at any other time that I had seen her. We went for a cup of coffee and she told me about her newest venture, and I told her the same story that I told everyone else about being a salaried employee. Jezebel was setting up a porn website, but was having trouble with the finances. I subtly inquired about it and found that she only needed $25,000 more to get everything running the way that she wanted it. I told Jezebel to meet me again in one week, same coffee shop, same time, and I might be able to introduce her to an investor. She was really excited about that, and gave me a big hug and sloppy kiss on the cheek when I left. I thought about it for a week. $25,000 was a blip on the screen to me, and despite the "questionable" nature of the business she had her heart set on, I still had a soft spot for her. A week after our first meeting we met again, and this time she looked even better than she had before. She was wearing more revealing clothes that made it clear that she still had the same consummate body that she had when I was lucky enough to pork her when I was in college and she was in community college, but her face and hair looked better than they ever had before. The coffee had no sooner been placed in front of us when I handed her an envelope with $25,000 cash. Jezebel was bowled over. She actually started crying -- something I would have never expected of someone with such a tough exterior. Jezebel offered to give me an ownership interest in the website -- I politely declined, saying that I just wanted this to be a gift, and I did not want any ownership interest. She rubbed her hand on my thigh and offered to fuck me better than at any other time in my life. With her body and motivation I do believe that she would have delivered on her promise, but I politely declined that too saying that I loved my wife. "Your wife is one lucky bitch," Jezebel said through some more tears as we parted. "If there is anything that I can ever do for you, just ask and it's done!" she said in all earnestness. "Become a great success!" I said with a big smile, and then gave her a tight hug. I was a little distressed that I got a huge hard-on when I hugged her, but broke off my hug as soon as I felt my pants tent. She was polite enough not to say anything about it. Allison and I had two more children, a second girl, Whitney (no I did not name her after Jezebel, but readily concurred with my wife when she suggested that name), and then a boy, Jerry. While sex with Allison was always good, over time I got to see that she was actually pretty shallow and materialistic. She had other good qualities, however, and I really did love her, the only woman that I had ever loved. Even more important to me, she had given me three wonderful children. Amber, twelve at the most relevant point in this story, had her mother's beauty and the best aspects of Allison and my personalities. She also was as smart as I was, testing at the same genius level that I did, but infinitely more social. Whitney, ten, was also a beautiful girl, although unfortunately for her she got some of my features that -- while not homely -- weren't in the same class and Allison's or Amber's. However Whitney was the most caring, loving, and empathetic person I had ever been around, and could light up any room just by her presence. She also wasn't hiding when brains were passed out. Jerry, eight, was simply a fun-loving little boy. I don't know where he got it -- maybe somewhere on Allison's side of the family -- but he was a real jock. I developed an interest in baseball and basketball only so that I could talk sensibly with him about his favorite pastimes. He never had a bad word to say about anyone, always seemed to be in a good mood, and got along well with both of his sisters, and they with each other. You would think that with such wonderful children that I would consider Allison a great mother. Unfortunately, that was not the case. The main conflicts that Allison and I had were about raising the children. I'm not sure what it was -- maybe it was simply the green-eyed monster of jealousy -- but Allison had a poor relationship with Amber. She was overly strict with Amber, and sometimes cruel in her comments. I had several blowups with Allison right in front of Amber when Allison treated her badly because I just couldn't take it. It had gotten to the point, by the time that Amber turned twelve, that Amber would never go anywhere with her mother unless I also was going along. This was a real problem when one summer Allison wanted to take the kids to a lake house her family had for a week when I had to work. It took all the persuasive power I had to get Amber to go along, and a real confrontation with Allison to make sure that she would be pleasant to Amber on the trip. Although Allison was better with Whitney and Jerry than she was with Amber, she had her moments with them too. Also, despite the fact that Allison was a stay-at-home mom, I probably spent as much time with the kids as she did since she always seemed to have one event or another to go to, and the time I spent with them was usually much higher quality. So, now having been married about fifteen years, with three great kids, a wife that I dearly loved and enjoyed sex with although we didn't have a "perfect" marriage, I was driving home from the airport after a one night business trip. It was about one p.m. Even though I had told Allison about my complete itinerary, based upon my phone call to the family the last night she had not -- as usual -- paid any attention to it, so I didn't know if she would be home to greet me or not. If she was, I was hoping for some "afternoon delight" in the form of a titty fuck before the kids got home from school about 3:30. I was at a stop sign, getting ready to turn right onto the through street that I live on, when a car I recognized went by. It was Roger Mayberry's distinctive red Corvette. The top was down and he was readily visible in the driver's seat, playing with the radio dial as tunes blared out through his custom speakers. Roger Mayberry was one of the top sales people in one of my corporations, dealing primarily with military sales. He had as good an understanding of our technology as any non-engineer could be expected to have, and had an easy manner with people. Like virtually all of our employees he had a top level security clearance, even higher than most because the military applications of our technology were even more sensitive than any others. "What's Roger doing here at this time of day?" I naively asked myself. Since the street I live on is a through street, I didn't even consider the fact that he might have been at my house, about two blocks away. I just wondered what business occasion could bring him to this end of town. Within a minute or so I had pulled into my driveway, walked into the house and not seeing Allison on the first floor, walked up the pretentious winding staircase that Allison loved and "had to have," up to the second floor. My shoes on our marble hallway floor made a distinctive "clap, clap" as I approached the open master bedroom door. When I was about ten feet from the door I heard a sultry voice say "Did you forget something, Rog, or did you decide to make another sperm deposit?" In shock I entered the master bedroom and there was Allison, naked, lying on her back with her legs apart and a creampie oozing from her pussy. When she looked up between her splayed legs and saw me her smile quickly turned to distress and she half-screamed "Oh, Brian -- shit, I'm so sorry!" Unfortunately, within a nanosecond my mind had completely comprehended the situation and feelings of anger, disgust, anxiety, hate, and fear had whizzed around my brain at warp speed. I'm sure that I stood there frozen with my mouth agape as all of the other emotions rattling me combined into a single sensation. A bleak, dark, overpowering, pall of sadness descended upon me. I remember stumbling backwards a few steps, but nothing else until I awoke in the hospital. A monitor apparently alerted the nursing station to my awakening because a nurse came running into my room seconds after I opened my eyes, followed about a minute later by a doctor. "How are you feeling, Mr. Banks?" a cute middle-aged nurse with the name tag "Nancy" innocently asked. "Like my head is in a vice," I moaned. "We're so happy to see you awaken so quickly," she gushed, grabbing my wrist and looking at a monitor next to my bed at the same time. "Why am I in a hospital and how did I get here?" I asked just as the doctor walked in. "Mr. Banks, I'm Doctor Petra," a short and very pleasant female Indian doctor responded. "Let me look in your eyes and then I'll answer your questions," she continued. With Nurse Nancy still holding my wrist Dr. Petra took some sort of light source out of her pocket, and without actually shining an intense beam into my eyes shone the light source back and forth, and moved my eyelids and the skin surrounding my eyeballs with her soft yet firm hands, for a good two minutes. When Dr. Petra straightened up the nurse released my wrist. They both smiled and Dr. Petra said "Mister Banks, you suffered a concussion. According to your wife you tripped on something in your bedroom and fell backwards onto the marble floor in your hallway, and hit your head on the stone. You could have died, but your vital signs are good and your concussion likely not as severe as we were afraid it might have been." Instantly the pall of sadness came crashing on me again as I recalled what had precipitated my backward stumble. My eyes widened and I loudly moaned "barf bag!" Fortunately Nurse Nancy had quick reflexes, and some sort of container -- though not a "barf bag" -- was under my chin in a flash. Despite not having had lunch that day I barfed up what was in my stomach, mostly bile. Once my stomach was completely emptied I laid back. Nancy put a cold compress on my head, and Dr. Petra did another examination. When she concluded that she announced "I am very surprised by your regurgitation, Mr. Banks. That could indicate a more severe concussion than I had hoped -- but there are no other signs of it." "Could my reflex reaction have been the result of remembering an emotional crisis that precipitated my fall?" I asked, already knowing the answer. "Yes, that is very possible," Dr. Petra mused, stroking her chin. "Did you have such an emotional crisis?" "Yeah!" was my surly reply, "I didn't react well emotionally to seeing another man's semen leaking out of my wife's vagina," I snorted. After a moment's delay I was actually quite proud of myself for not using "cum," "cunt," or "fucking," in my soliloquy. Still, you wouldn't know it by the shocked look on the faces of my medical attendants. "By the way," I sarcastically continued, before I could get an expression of pity from either of them, or before they fell backwards themselves, "where is my faithful bride?" Security Clearance "Uh, well, she was here but went to pick up your children from school," Nancy replied, beginning to regain her composure. I looked at the clock. It was 3:28, so she probably was picking them up right then. "Have you eaten recently?" Dr. Petra asked, an ashen look still on her face. "Not since about eight this morning," I replied. "Since your regurgitation was obviously emotional and not from your concussion, I strongly suggest that you get something in your stomach. Especially before your wife returns with the children," she said. "You don't think that I'll simply barf it up again when I see her?" I asked. "No...I don't," Dr. Petra responded, "as long as it is something innocuous. Nurse Jenkins, could you please have the kitchen rush a bowl of oatmeal up here?" "With cinnamon and raisins, no brown sugar," I said turning to Nancy and trying to be as pleasant as possible. The oatmeal was delivered within five minutes. I quickly finished the bowl, and felt a little better by the time that Nancy came back into my room and said "You have visitors." In rushed my three sweethearts, each one trying to be the first to get to me. "Darlings, don't touch Daddy's head or neck," I giggled as I tried to hold all three of them in my two arms. They were all talking at the same time, each more animated than the other. Despite my physical state and emotional condition I had to chuckle; a true laugh would probably hurt, but a good chuckle was definitely called for. I hardly noticed Allison I was so busy talking with the children. It was clear that Amber had been crying, but now that she saw I wasn't at death's door was clearly perking up, and the other two were all smiles. Allison stood at the door with a bemused look on her face. As I chatted with the children, I avoided discussion of my injury as best that I could and instead directed the conversation to their activities yesterday, while I was out of town, and today. Allison interjected a few times with questions or comments, but I simply ignored her, and never made eye contact with her. After about fifteen minutes of gaiety I noticed Nancy say something to Allison. A minute later Allison announced "Children. Daddy is still hurting and has to get better, so we need to leave. Kiss his hands goodbye, and we'll visit him tomorrow again." The kids slobbered over my hands and as they left waved goodbye. Amber was clearly in a better place than when she arrived, and Jerry seemed fine, but now -- getting a good look at me in my hospital bed from a distance -- Whitney was starting to tear up, and turned her head abruptly as she left, obviously trying to disguise her tears. After the children left Allison called out to them "Meet Mommy in the elevator lobby. I'm going to talk to Daddy a few minutes." Allison turned and approached me. I hadn't had time to fully plan what my reaction was going to be, and obviously I did not have it in my power at the present time to effect the scenarios that I had already thought of. Therefore I just closed my eyes and listened. "Brian, I, uh... I'm so sorry that you had to see me like that. I never wanted you to find out. I'm sorry I'm, uh, well, not the wife you have the right to expect me to be. I'm really hoping that when you get better we can talk this out," she told me, with a hint of both moaning and sobbing in her voice, though clearly no real crying. When she got absolutely no response from me she said "Maybe you'll feel like talking tomorrow. If you do, just call me." Her last statement was telling in itself. She obviously had no interest in coming to see me in the hospital -- I would have to solicit her and have a "talk" with her, otherwise she wasn't showing up. Dr. Petra came in again about twenty minutes after Allison left. After another examination she said "You don't look too distraught after a talk with your wife." "I didn't talk with my wife," I deadpanned. "However, although I still have a deep sadness for the loss of my previous life, I'm quite sure that I will be able to transform my emotion into action. I won't be throwing up again." "That's good," she said with a smile. "Doctor, how long do you think I have to stay here?" "I insist that you stay one more night, after tonight, but after that if your checkup is good you can leave. But you have to restrict your activities for at least a week, and definitely no going into your office for at least three or four days. I insist!" she replied, in as firm of a voice as a five foot tall female can muster. "I promise," I chuckled, then reached out and grabbed her hand. "That is I promise on the condition that you do NOT tell my wife that you will release me in the morning on Friday. Obviously I can't ask you to lie to her, but if she even cares enough to ask can you imply that I'll have to stay until Saturday?" "I think I can do that," Dr. Petra laughed, "as long as I don't have to flat out lie in response to a direct question. I'll tell Nurse Jenkins the same thing." I ate a full dinner, called my parents -- who for apparently obvious reasons Allison had not contacted -- called my assistant at his house, and asked for a legal pad and pen. That night I was feeling too out-of-it to write up the things I had to do, but I would definitely be ready to start planning my course of action the next morning. Allison showed up with the kids again about 3:50 on Thursday afternoon. As I had predicted, she didn't bother to come and see me earlier in the day, and I sure wasn't going to call her, although Nancy said she did call the nursing station once to inquire about my well-being. By the time that the kids got there on Thursday I felt much better. That wasn't just because I was healing, but because I had a completely productive day. I had several people from my office come to see me, as well as my attorney, Gail, who had done my pre-nup, and my parents had lunch with me. Nothing I did had anything to do with my research in proximity sensors, however. It all had to do with planning the rest of my life outside of work. After a wonderful half-hour with the kids, as I had instructed Nancy earlier in the day, she came in and said that I needed my rest. Allison did the same thing as the first day, but this time I didn't close my eyes when she talked to me. "Darling, you never called today to have me come and talk about our situation," she said in a soft voice. "I guess I wasn't important enough for you to see if I was alive or dead unless I called, huh?" I shot back, trying to minimize the sarcasm in my comment, but probably not succeeding. "That's not fair, darling," she softly replied. "I didn't want to bother you if you didn't want to talk." "I'll probably want to talk this weekend -- darrrlllinng" I said in a snarky voice, "after they release me." "Brian, again, I'm so sorry. I really hope that we can move past this," she mumbled. Then she held my hand and kissed it. I gave no reaction whatsoever. "Bye," she demurely said as she gave a small wave when exiting. Of course it was not lost on me that she never said that she loved me, or that she was going to end her affair with Roger Mayberry, and the only indication of real sorrow that I could sense was that she got caught. The rest of the 10% of my plan that I hadn't perfected yet would be easy to come up with now. Just before visiting hours were up, Allison's father and mother came to see me. I was a little surprised until they subtly revealed the reason for their visit. Apparently Allison didn't think that it would play too well if she was the one to threaten me with loss of the children if we divorced, so she had her parents do it. "Allison has told us about her big mistake," her mother said while holding my hand. "Oh, really -- what's that?" I sarcastically asked. After a long pause her mother replied, "You know it very well; it's what precipitated your accident. I just hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive her, Brian. You're such a good person and loving father, and I know that it would destroy you to not be with your kids every day." "You're certainly right about that, Ruth," I said in a somber voice. Being somber was just an act. The most important thing in my plan was to get sole custody of the kids. After a few more minutes of perfunctory conversation after Allison's parents had delivered the message that I was certain that their daughter required them to deliver, they left. Any doubt about what I was to do was gone. Friday morning Dr. Petra gave me another exam and then signed my release papers. "Remember, take it easy for at least a week," she said. "Scout's honor," I said, giving my approximation of the Boy Scout salute; never having been a Boy Scout I don't know how close I came, but at least she laughed. I thanked Nancy and offered her a $500 cash tip which she was required to refuse; so I gave her a cautious hug instead, and left with my assistant, Jack, by 10:00 a.m. Getting some revenge on Roger Mayberry would be very easy -- I could just have him fired. But that wouldn't be revenge enough for me. What I needed to do was to ruin his career. If he just got another job in a related field, at almost the same salary, what kind of punishment would that be? What I needed to do was make sure that he lost his security clearance. That would make it impossible for him to get a job with anywhere near the compensation or prestige that he presently enjoyed. After consultation with Gail and a divorce specialist that she recommended, and after obtaining Roger's bank account information from Payroll since his paychecks were direct deposited, the next thing that I had to do was to see Jezebel. Why her? She would help me ensure that I got sole custody of my kids! My assistant drove me to Jezebel's office, but I had him wait in the car. Even though Jack would be read completely into all my plans, I needed to talk to Jezebel alone. I had called ahead, but Jezebel still acted surprised and excited to see me. "Whoa there, Jezebel," I laughed as she hustled her big beautiful body toward me. "I have a concussion, and I can't give you the big hug that I'd like. Can we just kiss each other's hands?" "You bastard," she giggled, "you probably got the concussion just so that I couldn't maul you." We exchanged hand kisses, a very unsatisfactory greeting, but it would have to do. Jezebel looked good. She was dressed very stylishly, but professionally, and looked like she hadn't put on a pound since she was eighteen; although her tits looked even bigger than I remembered. They probably just seemed bigger because I hadn't seen her in the last ten years and didn't remember how big that they were. There was a little gray in her hair, but it actually softened her features; yeah, she was still the consummate sexy woman. "Come into my office," she demanded, grabbing my arm. After expressing my joy at seeing Jezebel again, I got right to the point. "I need your help, Jezebel," I said, my sadness rearing its ugly head again. "Anything, Brian," she said, holding my hand. "You have no idea how much I want to help you, no matter what it is. You helped me achieve my dream, so as long as I don't have to kill someone, I'm all in!" That comment, and her big smile while delivering it, did more to lift my sadness than I thought possible. "OK, you asked for it," I chuckled. I didn't leave out any detail in what had happened and the aspect of my reaction that I needed her help with. This included telling her how important my kids were to me, and I even showed her photos of them. When she heard that my middle child's name was Whitney she stopped cold. "You named her Whitney?" she gasped. I knew what she was thinking, and there was absolutely no reason -- in view of the present circumstances -- why I shouldn't guild the lily. "Yes, named after my favorite person from my pre-marriage days," I replied with a big smile. She got choked up, started crying, and in between sobs moaned, "You bastard, the only two times I've cried in the last ten years are because of you!" I smiled, squeezed her hand; "Hey, tears of joy are great; I could use some now." "How can I help deliver them?" she asked, wiping away her tears. "I need you to put porn featuring my wife on your website, and make payments to her bank account for them!" Once she got over the initial shock, we discussed the situation fully. She had plenty of good suggestions, and one spectacular one. "You have to be sure that this is never traced to you, and someone might find out that you and I had a previous 'association,'" she said. "Is that what you call it, an 'association?'" I laughed. "Shut-up," she giggled, "It's my turn to tutor you. I have a friend that can do this, on a pay porn website even more popular than mine, no questions asked. All you have to do is funnel cash to him that he'll in turn deposit it in your wife's bank account. Let me call him right now." In a four minute phone conversation with her friend Jezebel had it all arranged. She told me what format the porn videos should be in and that whatever cash I gave her she would give her friend, and the same amount of money would be deposited in Allison's account. "Also, my friend will need your wife's signature on a contract that includes a release-- can you trick her into that, or forge it properly?" "I can," I replied. "I'll email it to you today," she replied. "Wait until tomorrow. I'll set up a new email account at the library specifically for that purpose, and email you with it once she signs," I grinned. I was on a natural high as I was getting ready to leave Jezebel's office. I risked pain by giving her a gentle kiss on the lips when I left. I was pleased to see that my concussion had not stifled my cock's reaction as I got a legitimate stiffy just from one tender kiss on the lips with Jezebel. Fortunately, shortly after we got married my wife had insisted on a credit card just in her name, and also a bank account only in her name. I never bothered to check them before, but I would now. I would have no problem getting the numbers from documents that she left lying around in the den at home. I had a lot going for me in effecting my revenge. Bank account numbers from both Roger and Allison, Allison's credit card number, enough of my own money to finance anything that I wanted, and Jezebel's help. Also, my assistant, Jack, was completely loyal and I could rely on him to do anything. I need to say something about Jack; he is my assistant, not my secretary. He is my highest paid employee, aside from the CEOs and CFOs of my companies. Although he has an engineering degree and is great at crunching numbers and making technical improvements to my hair-brained schemes, he also is willing to do anything to help. That's why he picked me up from the hospital and waited for me at Jezebel's. One other thing -- he was a Division I football player in college and started at middle linebacker his senior year. He's six feet two and 245 pounds of almost pure muscle. He has trouble getting suit jackets that he doesn't rip the arms out of. Things related to my revenge could go wrong, but I had planned carefully and had to be optimistic. After Jack dropped me off at my car at my house -- I didn't go inside to see if Allison was home -- I ate lunch, and then called Allison's cell. "Hello, darling; I'm so glad you called. Would you like me to come visit you?" was her sing-song greeting since my cell number was obviously displayed on her caller I. D." "That won't be necessary," I said without any warmth whatsoever in my voice. "I got released early and I'll go pick up the kids then take them for milkshakes. We'll be home about 5:30. " "Oh, dear, I must make a nice homecoming dinner for you," she gushed, trying hard to sound upbeat. "Now don't spoil their appetites..." I cut her off. "Thanks for the parenting advice," I sarcastically replied. "See you at 5:30." The kids were excited to see me, inquired about my health, and were all bubbly about their activities. They were even more thrilled when I told them we were going to get milkshakes at the local malt shop, something that they all loved. After all four of us were well into our shakes I opened up to them. "Kids, I want you to know that some things are going to change in the future, and that none of it is your fault," I started out in a low key, matter-of-face manner. That didn't fool Amber one bit. Without hesitation she more than anticipated what I had to say -- she extrapolated from it. "If you and Mom get divorced I'm living with you," she blurted out. "Are you guys getting divorced?" Whitney asked. "Now let's not jump the gun, here," I said, trying to reassure them -- especially Whitney who had suddenly gotten a hang-dog look. "Mom and I are having some issues, and I don't know how it's going to come out. However, one thing that I want you to know is that no matter what we both love you with all our hearts and that you three beautiful creatures are not the cause -- in any way -- of our issues." Amber again shocked the socks off of me. "You love us with all your heart, but does Mom have one?" "Mommy loves us," Jerry piped up. "Don't be so sure, squirt," Amber shot back. Trying to be as diplomatic as possible I put a hand over one of Amber's. "Honey, I know that Mom loves all of you completely. Sometimes she just doesn't know how to show it. Let's not think ill of her, shall we, and let's hope that things work out." Whitney was quietly sniffling, but Jerry and Amber seemed to snap out of it completely, especially when Jerry asked, with eight-year-old earnestness, "Are you coming to my Little League came at noon tomorrow, Dad. It's against the Ravens, and I'm gonna pitch." "I wouldn't miss it for the world, son," I chuckled. "What events do you girls have Saturday?" I asked in the most cheerful voice possible, "I lost three days with my hospital stay and never got my normal Thursday update." By the time that we got home about 5:20 all three kids seemed sanguine. I made sure that at least one child was between Allison and me at all times during Allison's greeting since I didn't want any body contact with her. After the kids went to bed that night, I went into the guest room. "Don't you want to talk?" Allison asked. "I've got a splitting headache from my concussion, and I just need to take my pain pills and get some sleep. It will probably be fitful and I don't want to disturb you," I replied, gulping down two Tylenol that I passed off as prescription pain pills and then closing the door. "I'm available to talk anytime," Allison chimed as the guest room door shut on her. I was able to avoid any real discussion or intimacy with Allison both Saturday and Sunday without much difficulty, and was able to start implementing my plan. The first activities were easy. Using Allison's credit card, on Saturday morning I ordered two small high tech video cameras and motion detectors for express delivery to the house on Monday. At the library I printed out the porn contract that Jezebel had emailed me to the account I had set up for that purpose then immediately deleted it. I also printed out new beneficiary and health insurance forms from my company's database, attached the porn contract as the second to last item in the stack, and put tabs where Allison was supposed to sign them all. I knew that Allison would be in an accommodating mood on the weekend, but that it wouldn't last too long. I presented her with the documents on Sunday, told her that they were health, disability, and life insurance forms for work that just needed to be updated and that she and the children were co-beneficiaries of all of my insurance. I left the documents with her, telling her to read them at her leisure. Security Clearance I knew she wouldn't read them all, but would skim the first one or two. When she saw her name on the first two as a beneficiary she smiled, obviously believing that despite my aloofness I wasn't planning on divorcing her. With a big grin she brought the documents to me just a few minutes after I gave them to her. "All signed, darling," she chimed as she handed them to me while I was starting a card game with Whitney and Jerry. "Thanks," I said, and just flipped the documents into my open briefcase as nonchalantly as I could, and dealt the cards. I also called the CEO of the company I owned that Roger Mayberry worked for and told him to have the Federal Agency in charge of our security clearances to schedule security reviews of the five people in Mayberry's division. Because of the sensitive nature of our work we are subject to spot security reviews, just like some organizations are subject to spot drug testing, so none of the employees would know that it was their employer who had initiated the review, not the Government. Monday morning, after the kids left for school, Allison insisted on talking. "Brian, we can't ignore what happened. If we do it will eat at you and destroy our relationship," she started out while sitting across the kitchen table from me. I wanted to say "What relationship?" but refrained. Instead I said "Allison, my head is still spinning, and I have yet to come to terms with what I witnessed. I need my head on straight before we can have a completely meaningful conversation. I'm not going to do anything precipitous." "OK, darling," she replied after a short delay, obviously content if not pleased. "I hope that you get better soon, though. I really want to show you how much I care for you -- my boobies miss you." I smiled, which almost killed me, then said "I miss them too." That was a true statement; despite my antipathy for her at the present time I did love and miss her tits. "I have to go to the Country Club for a Social Committee meeting in about a half hour, returning about two so that I can get the kids from school. Will you be OK without me?" she said. In response to her question I wanted to say "I'll soon find out," but again restrained myself. "Have a good time, I'll be fine," I replied. She was making it too easy. About a half hour after she left the cameras arrived by courier. I called Jack and he came over and between the two of us we installed the cameras, on-off switches, and motion detectors, in the master bedroom in less than an hour. We handled all the equipment with latex gloves on so as not to leave any fingerprints or DNA. Then we had to direct the feeds to Allison's computer. While I'm great with computers, Jack is a whiz. "All we have to do is find her password and it will take me ten minutes to hook up the cameras to her computer. I have the most effective password cracking software on my laptop. I'll link mine with hers and get to work," Jack announced, while still wearing his latex gloves. After Jack started up the program he began to say "What we can do while this runs..." but was cut off by a "beep." "What's that?" I asked. "Is it malfunctioning?" "I don't think so.....Holy shit, it's cracked already," he laughed. "How is that possible?" I asked. "The software runs the one thousand most common passwords first before it employs the cracking algorithms. Ha, ha! Her password is 'princess,' the 28th most common password according to the software." "It figures," I chuckled. "She never listened to anything else that I had to say about technology, why would she have listened to me telling her to make her password arbitrary symbols." True to his word, within ten minutes Jack had the cameras recording to a file with a nondescript name on Allison's computer. After another five minutes he had it set up so that I could access the file from my office at any time that I wanted to, and could turn the cameras and motion detectors on and off remotely. Tuesday I went into work since I was feeling good, and turned on the cameras and motion detectors when I left. I made arrangements for a shell corporation that I owned in the Cayman Islands to make a transfer of $10,000 to Roger Mayberry's bank account. After that I was feeling good emotionally, and I was making good physical progress recovering from my concussion, so I actually did some real work. After the kids went to bed Tuesday night Allison approached me. "Why don't you come back our bed tonight? Your head must be feeling better if you could work today." "It is," I replied. "I almost feel normal." When I got to bed, Allison was bare. It is impossible for me not to stare at her puffy nipples when she's naked and she is well aware of that. She made eye contact with me while rubbing lotion on her tits, which of course made me rock hard. She gently reached through my fly with one hand while shinning my boxers down with the other hand. It was only a minute later when I was straddling Allison and reciprocating my cock back and forth between her magnificent orbs while she pushed them toward each other. Within another minute I had almost forgotten my disgust for Allison as endorphins started raging through my brain like the Amazon. She was making all of the right sounds and was licking the slit at the end of my cock with each forward thrust. She actually had her typical mild orgasm before I was ready to blow, and when I started groaning she grabbed my cock and sucked me dry. I was physically and emotionally exhausted as Allison curled up next to me and I fell asleep easily for the first time since I saw Mayberry's cum leaking out of her pussy. "I'm going to miss those tits," was the last thought that flashed through my mind before I fell asleep. Wednesday and Thursday I almost allowed myself to fantasize that Allison had realized how much she had hurt me, actually loved me, and would even break it off with Mayberry. Of course that didn't stop me from turning the cameras on when I was out of the house, or proceeding with my plan, because I knew that those thoughts were just fantasy, not reality. That was confirmed when I reviewed the video from Thursday afternoon. There was my "loyal" wife with her face with a look of ecstasy as she faced the camera and moaned while Mayberry was pummeling the shit out of her, doggy style. A few minutes of it was all that I could take, although I did a review the entire tape at sixteen times normal speed just to be sure that she hadn't titty fucked him. Until I had Allison served with divorce papers titty fucking was all that I would be doing with her, and I didn't want to have that ruined by seeing Mayberry's cock stroking her boobs. While I had some elation knowing that the video was what I needed to try and get sole custody of the kids, my pall of sadness made a brief, and very unwelcome, return. "Why couldn't she just keep her legs together around Mayberry -- and who knows if there were others?" I rhetorically asked myself. Friday morning I uploaded Allison's Thursday afternoon fuck fest to the pay porn site, had $5,000 cash delivered to Jezebel, and by Friday night $5,000 had been wired from the porn site to Allison's bank account and the video posted for all paying customers to see. It was unfortunate that since the web site didn't have a release from Mayberry that they had to pixelate his face, but I was immensely pleased that the section of the web site that the video was available on was called "Slut Wives Fucking Behind Their Husband's Backs in Their Marital Bed!" How appropriate! In the next two weeks two more videos were uploaded to the porn site, two more $5,000 deposits made to Allison's bank account, and another $10,000 wired from another company in the Cayman Islands to Mayberry's bank account. I now needed to bring the hammer down before Allison and Mayberry got end-of-the-month bank statements and wondered what the fuck was going on. While I had the pleasure of fucking Allison's tits four times in those two weeks, despite her requests I avoided fucking her pussy. I did a good acting job by starting to tear up when she asked me to fuck her pussy and in a broken voice said "Uh, Allison, I'm not quite ready for...uh...that yet." When I said that she replied -- almost as if she was a real caring being -- "I understand, sweetie. Let me know when you're ready. Now bring that nice cock of yours over to Mommy's boobies." The day after the third porn video was available to the paying public Mayberry's security review took place. How it happened, I don't know (cough, cough) but the reviewer had an un-pixelated copy of one of the videos of Mayberry fucking Allison with him, as well as Mayberry's bank statement. Mayberry was the third person in his group to be interviewed that day, so I'm sure that he didn't know that his interview was the only "important" one. Since the CEO would be provided with a copy of the lie detector results, as well as the questions and answers, I got a copy of the interview transcript by the end of the day of Mayberry's interview. After Mayberry was hooked up to the lie detector and the preliminary questions were dispensed with, the reviewer nailed him. "Mr. Mayberry do you have any activities outside of work that someone might be able to use to blackmail you with?" "No, I don't think so," Mayberry responded, getting a stark movement of the lie detector's needle. "I'd like to show you a video, Mr. Mayberry," the reviewer continued, hitting a few buttons on his iPad. "Who is this woman that you were having sex with two weeks ago Thursday?" Apparently Mayberry's face was drained of color as he debated in his mind whether he should try to lie, or tell the truth, and which would be worse for his security clearance. I guess he decided to come clean. "Allison Banks." "Isn't she married to one of your co-workers, Brian Banks?" "Uh, well, actually Brian Banks works for a related company even though his office is in the same building as mine. It's a big building," Mayberry stammered out. "You never thought that having an affair with a married co-worker could conceivably lead to blackmail?" "Uh, I, uh, never really thought about that," Roger mumbled. "Have you received any payments from foreign entities since your last security clearance?" "Absolutely not," Roger indignantly replied. "Let me show you this month's statement for your bank account, Mr. Mayberry. What are the deposits from two different Cayman Island based corporations for?" There was a long pause. With trepidation in his voice Mayberry answered "I don't know! I've never seen this before. It must be some mistake!" "A mistake from two different Cayman Island companies that we have not been able to identify the ownership for?" the reviewer continued. "Yes, someone is setting me up!" Mayberry whined, obviously completely distressed. "Did someone fake the video of you and Mrs. Banks too?" the reviewer inquired, with what I'm sure was sarcasm in his voice even though he is supposed to remain dispassionate. After a handful of other questions, the interview was concluded. Mayberry said nothing when after detaching the electrodes from the lie detector the reviewer said "Mr. Mayberry, until you are told otherwise you are not to have any contact with anyone related to confidential and secret information. Nor are you to contact Mr. or Mrs. Banks, or either of the two corporations who deposited money in your account. If you do you will be prosecuted." I was feeling really good the night of Mayberry's interview; REALLY good. Allison sensed my mirth and was flirty with me after dinner. We went to bed as soon as we were sure that the kids were asleep. I knew that this would be the last time that I had intimate contact with Allison so I sucked her tits and rubbed her pussy, then slid my cock between her lubricated boobies and stroked more vigorously than I ever had before. I had positioned myself so that at the same time that I stroked that I could flick her clit with one finger, something that I had only done once before in the past. I shot a mammoth load onto Allison's chest and chin. She didn't have the chance to take me into her mouth, as she often did, to ejaculate since she seemed to be having orgasms from my titty fuck and from the stimulation of her clit, both at the same time. After we came down from our orgasms and were laying side-by-side snuggling, in a voice almost as sultry as the one she used for Mayberry when asking if he wanted to make another cum deposit in her pussy, Allison said, "Darling. How about we rest a while, then I suck you hard, then you stick that nice tool in my pussy." "Wow -- is she ever a good straight man," I laughed to myself before looking her in the eye. "Allison, I'll never again stick my cock in that cesspool masquerading as your cunt. Who knows how many dicks besides Mayberry's cum in it every week! NASTY!" The look on her face was priceless. After sputtering out "What the hell do you mean," turning red, and then blabbering nonsense -- with me laughing all the while -- she stormed out of bed and went to the guest room. I got the kids off to school the next day. I got nothing but icy stares from Allison. Once the kids were gone I made a phone call and thirty seconds later the doorbell rang. "It's for you, slut," I chuckled. "How dare you speak to me like that you asshole," Allison fumed. "I won't for much longer, cunt," I replied, now actually laughing. When Allison answered the door the process server handed her the divorce papers; all I heard was "Mrs. Allison Banks?" "Yes." "You've been served." In addition to the divorce papers were stills of her fucking Mayberry and the name of the porn pay website with a password that could be used for accessing it. "You didn't think that I'd find out about you selling your porno videos, you sleazy bitch?" I asked as she stood by the kitchen table dumbfounded. "Have you even looked to see what you look like on a porn website? That's your way to find out!" I yelled as she held the paper with the porn site web address and password on it. "I couldn't believe it when my assistant brought it to my attention. It's not enough that you disrespect me by fucking that asshole in our bed, but then you have to broadcast it, and make money on it?" "I...uh...what...I have no idea what is going on," she replied, tears forming in her eyes. "I'm taking the kids on a weekend trip," I announced while getting up. "Make sure that you hire the best lawyer that you can -- I'm sure that your professional porn earnings will help -- because you're going to need one." That same day Mayberry was fired, and escorted out of the building, and his security clearance revoked. About an hour before I was to leave to pick up the kids for the weekend my secretary called on the intercom. "Brian, there's a report that Roger Mayberry is drunk and in the parking lot, and yelling your name. Should I call the police?" "No, Sherri," I giggled, "Call Jack and have him come here right away." This was too good to be true. When Jack arrived we went to a window in our building where we could see where Mayberry was. It was at the location of one of the best security camera views. The way that he was teetering back and forth it was clear that he was drunk. We quickly came up with a plan; Jack went out one of the side doors and stayed next to the building just out of the view of the camera, and I boldly went out the front entrance. As soon as Mayberry saw me he yelled "You fucking asshole, Banks, you're the one that got me fired and ruined my security clearance, I know it. I'm gonna kick your ass." I trotted, more than ran, to a place in camera view near where Jack was. I let Mayberry get close enough to hit me. Although it was only a glancing blow on my shoulder, I fell down like it was the most crushing punch in history. As Mayberry got above me ready to punch again, Jack came into camera view, grabbed Mayberry, and hit him once in the jaw with a forearm, just like he was an opposing running back. Mayberry went flying at least four feet backward, unconscious. Jack came over to me and helped me up, and I pretended to be groggy as I leaned against a car. Jack called 911 -- all of this activity in full view of the security cameras -- and the cops were there within three minutes. Mayberry was handcuffed to the stretcher that the Fire Department Ambulance took him away with, and one of the cops rode with him in the ambulance to the hospital. I filled out the necessary paperwork to press charges for assault, then picked up the kids and took off to a beautiful mountain resort for the weekend. I told the kids at the end of the weekend that Allison and I were divorcing. Amber seemed happy; the other two were surprising mellow about it, taking to heart my guarantee that we both would be as loving to them as possible. When we got back Sunday night Allison was not nearly as nasty as I thought that she would be. In preparation for a possible meltdown by her I had moved all of my most valuable possessions, and much of my clothing, to a controlled temperature storage facility. I had no intention of moving out of the house, however. Once the kids told her what we had done during our fun weekend she and I talked. "I know you set up this videoing thing, Brian, though I don't know how you accomplished it," were her first words, although with a more conciliatory tone than I would have thought. "No apology, no 'it was a mistake,' no 'please forgive me?'" I asked. "Just blaming me for something that it is clear from all the evidence that I did not do," I replied, trying to sound indignant in case she was recording our conversation. "I've been busy this weekend, Brian. I hired an attorney and a computer expert. Again, I don't know how you did it but you really covered your tracks well, and it's going to be hard for me to beat this 'unfit mother' rap you're placing on me. I'm hoping, however, that we can come to some resolution about custody." "Sure, we can, Allison. You give me sole custody and the house so that the kids don't have to move, and I'll give you liberal visitation. I'll also buy you a house for you and Mayberry to get your rocks off in -- have you heard he's not just out of a job, but out of a career?" "I don't want to share a house with Roger; it was never about that, it was..." she started to say. I cut her off quickly. "I don't want to hear it, Allison!" I snapped. I regained my composure and continued. "You can shack up with whomever you want. I simply don't give a shit. I'm merely making an offer." After a delay, and actually a tear or two, she continued. "Look, I know that you think that I'm a shitty mother, but I'm not. I love the kids with all my heart and I can't stand the idea of not living with them. I also don't see how it would be in either of our interests to slug it out in court. I know that you'll smear me in every way possible, and I don't have the stomach for it, nor do either of us want the kids knowing all of the details, or viewing the videos." "I agree that we don't want the kids finding out the details," I mused. "What do you propose?" I asked, truly curious. "My attorney suggests that we agree to a mediator. He says a former Family Court judge would be best. I'll go for sole or joint custody and you can do the same. We'll let the mediator review everything, including what the children's wishes are, and we'll go along with whatever he decides. That way we keep everything confidential, and we can get a resolution much more quickly," she replied. Actually I was shocked that she could be so reasonable. I think that she realized that I had a much stronger personality than she had given me credit for, since I'm sure that she had several long talks with Roger Mayberry. Security Clearance "Let's get a joint meeting with our attorneys early next week and hash out the details," I said. "I have only one exception to what you proposed. I will not under any circumstances go for joint custody. That is too hard on the kids, and I want sole custody. If the mediator orders it I'll go along, but only in that case -- I'm not proposing it!" I let Allison have the master bedroom while I slept in the guest room. I didn't tell her the reason why since I didn't want to raise the stress level, but now that everything was out there was no way that I was sleeping where Mayberry had fucked her. I didn't know if it was possible to get every molecule of his cum out of the sheets or mattress. Tuesday we had a joint meeting with our attorneys. We both instructed our attorneys to just do what we asked in a legal manner -- we didn't want them haggling. The contract that we came up with was a 50-50 split of all marital assets except what was exempted by the pre-nup (which was 90% of our wealth); the name of the mediator (an ex-Family Court judge known with a good reputation); when the hearing before him would be scheduled and when the mediator's secret ruling must be given by; the amount of child support I would pay if Allison were granted either sole or joint custody of any child; the amount of maintenance I would pay Allison for two years or until she got remarried, whichever came first; restrictions on her associating with Mayberry in any way if the children were present (she was insulted by this but said that she had no interest in seeing him any more so she agreed to it); agreement not to talk to the children in an attempt to in any way influence what they would tell the mediator; how much Allison could pay, at my expense, for a new living space (whether house, condo or apartment) if I got sole custody and she had to move out of our house; and what the specific arrangements would be if we had joint custody or what the visitation rights would be if either of us got sole custody of any child. It took all day to hammer out the details, but we got it done. The potential mediator was contacted the next day, he agreed to handle the case and on his compensation (which would come 50-50 out of our joint assets not subject to the pre-nup), and we even scheduled a briefing date two weeks hence and a hearing date four weeks hence. I didn't make Allison put it in the contract, but talked with her about it in private and we both agreed that neither of us would bring anyone else into our house while we jointly occupied it, and that after the custody arrangement was decided that the person who had to vacate would do so within two weeks. Also, I agreed to have my attorney threaten the pay porn site with a lawsuit if they didn't take her videos down, and would return the money to them. Of course this didn't take any effort at all. One call to Jezebel took care of it. Allison and I were actually civil to each other while we waited for the hearing. I never tried to influence the children, and to the best of my knowledge she didn't either, and we never made any mean, or even sarcastic, comments to each other even when in private. The only "nasty" thing that she did was to walk around the house topless when the children were asleep or not there. I knew why she was doing it, but in exasperation asked her once anyway. "I want you to get a real good last look at what you're giving up," she said while grabbing one of her boobs and bending its perfect puffy nipple up to her mouth and licking it. I couldn't help tenting my pants. She pointed to my crotch and said "I can see that it's working," then walked out of the room with a diabolical grin on her face. The day of the hearing I was nervous even though I was sure that I had the upper hand, and that the worst that could come out of it was joint custody. Since I badly wanted sole custody, though, I was almost frantic. The hearing went pretty well, although just before it was time for the judge to interview the children he made some comments that created a pit in my stomach. He seemed to be leaning toward joint custody. Before actually interviewing the children he threw us a curve. "I see that you have agreed to watch my interviews with the children by closed circuit TV," the mediator said. "I'm sorry, I can't agree to that. I apologize for not realizing that until just a few minutes ago, but that would destroy the necessary candor and trust I need to have with the children. If either of you can't agree to me meeting with each child in private, I'll have to refund your money and give you a recommendation for another mediator. Since the children's interviews were to be tomorrow anyway, a day that they're off school, let me know by then." I was almost tempted to say that I didn't agree and hope that we could get another mediator less inclined toward joint custody than this one seemed to be. My attorney talked me out of it, especially since she knew of Amber's antipathy toward Allison, and how from past experience with the mediator when he was a judge that he gave credence to the children's wishes. Amber was only a year away from when, under state law, she could decide herself, and the judge was likely to give more credence to what she had to say than any other mediator we would. Before Allison and I left for home we met together with our attorneys and we all agreed to the mediator's stipulation. We also agreed we would not interrogate the children, afterward, about what they said. That night at dinner Allison did make some comments that I thought the kids would pick up on as her expression of a wish for joint custody. I just gave her a hard look, and didn't say anything in rsponse. Amber caught my eye and slyly smiled. The next day the mediator met privately with each of the children. Jerry's interview took only about twenty minutes. Whitney's took about a half an hour. Amber's took more than an hour. When Amber exited, when she was sure that Allison and her attorney were not looking, she gave me a thumbs-up. Per our agreement, Allison's parents took the kids out to eat after their interviews, with instructions to drop them back at our house about 4 p.m. After we broke for lunch, the mediator was ready to render a decision. We didn't expect that; he had another week, under the contract, to decide so there was no obligation to decide then. He didn't even want to hear the thirty minute closing arguments that the attorneys had prepared. "After reviewing all of the evidence available to me, and considering the best interests of the children as paramount, I award sole custody of all three children to the father, Brian Banks. I also find that under the circumstances the contract that was entered into by the parties before the case was submitted to me is reasonable and in the best interests of the children, therefore the case will be settled on exactly those terms. I will provide a certified copy of this summary decision on Monday for you to submit to Family Court with your settlement. Thank you for entrusting me with this matter and good luck in the future." Allison and I both cried -- for different reasons. The ride home was somber. I was in no mood to gloat, and she was despondent. My old enemy, the pall of sadness, had descended upon me again at the finality of the breakup of our family, even though it was on the best possible terms for me given that a breakup was necessary. That night, when we told the children, Allison was spaced out so I had to most of the talking. Jerry and Whitney were sad, and genuinely hugged Allison. Amber gave her a perfunctory hug. I said only nice things about Allison and told them what the visitation would be like. I bought another house for Allison in less than a week after the hearing, and she moved into it within the two week time period we had agreed to. The children and I helped her, as did her parents and brother, and we hired a moving company for the big items she was taking from our house (including the king size bed from the master bedroom). When the divorce was final a few months later I hosted a "victory" party at the house, to thank all of the people who had helped me, and for my closest friends and my parents. I did not indicate to the children what the purpose of the party was; just that it was a celebration in general. Amber, of course, who was now thirteen, had figured it out. Just before the guests were to arrive and I was making some last minute preparations in the den she came in and closed the door. She made me sit down then sat on my lap. "Daddy; how happy are you that the custody arrangement came out like it did?" a sophisticated question, even for her. "Why I'm very happy, Amber; why do you ask?" I replied. She broke into a big grin. "I knew it would work out when I talked to the mediator. I told him that I had seen Mom and that Mayberry guy having sex in our house when I came home ill one day, and that it had a terrible effect on me." "Did you see them?" was my startled reply. "What difference does it make, really? She was cheating, I would have refused to go with her if she was awarded custody of me, and I knew it was best for Jerry and Whitney to stay together with us. I just thought that you'd like to know," she concluded with a big grin. She kissed my cheek, hopped off my lap, and was gone. I decided not to ever pursue the matter. What I did pursue, starting with the "victory" celebration, however, was Jezebel. Jezebel came to the party looking like a million dollars. She immediately bonded with Jerry and Whitney. She played catch and pepper (a bunting and fielding game for baseball players) with Jerry for a good half hour. She was much better with that than I ever was! Jezebel sat down one-on-one with Whitney. I don't know what they talked about, but they were chatting and laughing for a good hour. Amber was more reserved around Jezebel than the other two kids were, but she also seemed to have a positive reaction to her, and they talked about fashion. Jezebel did not leave me out in the courting of our family. Half way through the party she isolated me in the den, grabbed my crotch and whispered "You no longer have an excuse for not letting me fuck your brains out. Have your parents stay with the kids tonight and come home with me. I promise that you'll still be alive when I let you return at ten tomorrow morning, although I can't guarantee that you'll be coherent." When she saw the look in my eyes she didn't wait for a verbal answer, planted a lecherous kiss on my lips, and then swung her hips in an exaggerated manner as she walked out of the den. Jezebel did nearly fuck my brains out that night. I had never had three orgasms in an eight hour period before, but I did that night. I made two enormous deposits in her pussy, and one lesser -- though just as rewarding -- one in her ass. I sucked on those monster tits almost constantly when we weren't fucking, and even though it was in a losing cause she tried to suck me hard again two more times. As I was leaving I said "Jezebel, I don't know what you see in me, but Goddamn it, I sure love being with you. Do we have a chance for a real relationship?" As she stared into my eyes she licked her lips. "What I see in you is a kind, generous, smart, giving, person with a great dick and a high libido. Why don't you take me to a resort the weekend of the 14th for three days, and we can see if we both want a real relationship. To be honest with you I'm tired of fucking around. I want a man who is mine and mine alone." She gave me another lecherous kiss then closed the door on me, saying "Get home to those beautiful kids!" Epilogue Two years after my "victory" party there have been a number of changes in my life. All three kids are well adjusted, happy, and thriving in school, social life, and activities. Allison has not done anything ugly, and has taken full advantage of her visitation rights, and has done nothing to abuse them. Amber now has a much better relationship with her than they had when we were a family. In fact Amber even went with her and the other two kids to Allison's parents' lake house for ten days last summer, and had no negative reports when she came back. My business is thriving and I'm making more money than ever. My ownership of the operating companies was inadvertently disclosed, however, when a report we filed with the government was sent to a number of employees who we didn't intend to have it. Even that has worked out, however, and no one treats me any differently than before. Roger Mayberry left town shortly after the victory party, and according to the only employee who still has any contact with him has an entry level sales job with an electronics firm on the west coast that does not deal in sensitive technology. The children have more than accepted Jezebel. All three look on her more as a friend than a mother-figure, and really enjoy her company. After two years of fucking whenever we could, Jezebel decided that we needed to be exclusive. Last month she sold her porn website and moved in with the kids and me. Although she doesn't want to get married, she wants only me and wants to perform friend/motherly duties for the kids while at the same time running a small specialty clothing Internet sales company out of an addition I had put on the house for that purpose. At the same time that the addition was being constructed, I also had the highest quality sound proofing installed in the master bedroom. I found that fucking Jezebel's tits is almost as rewarding physically as fucking Allison's was, with a lot less angst. Jezebel also wants to fuck essentially every day and never ceases to be able to get me hard within minutes whenever the mood strikes her. Last night, as I was pounding Jezebel's pussy doggy, while moving a butt plug in and out of her ass and still trying to watch her pendulous boobs smack into each other, I asked myself "Am I the most satisfied man in America!" Just then Jezebel started screaming and spasming in orgasm as I rocketed a full load into her pussy. "Hell YES!" came my answer, loud and clear!