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Divorce

By: Jeremiah Erratica



One day I came home from the brokerage house where I work to find a letter on my dining room table. It was really just a note from my wife stating that she was leaving me and for me to await a call from her lawyer that she wanted a divorce. I read the note over and over trying to comprehend what it meant. After a while I got up and went upstairs only to find her closet half empty. This settled my mind down a bit and I read the note with a bit more certainty that the message she sent was true. It was a chilling note, no love, best wishes or good luck, just her scratchy signature at the bottom.

I tried to think back over the last couple of weeks to discern if there was any sign that could have led me to this conclusion, but I couldn't recall a single event. We had argued a bit lately mostly about my workload, which was substantial, along with the underlying complaint that we had fallen off drastically in the bedroom department, moreso her doing than mine. I recalled that the last few days she had appeared distant and unfocused, but had not attributed it to anything out of the ordinary. What a fool I had been to not see any signs. I reached over for a glass of juice, but a twitch of understanding sent the glass off the table to shatter on the floor. I knew trying to pick it up was foolhardy and I cut my finger more than once grabbing for the loose shards.

I wandered upstairs like a zombie going through my daily ritual, undressed and donned my jockstrap, shorts and a t-shirt in order to run my three miles. As I ran I began sorting out the situation and decided that I needed a lawyer myself, so I made my way over a couple blocks to see if Dan and Carolyn were home. He was a lawyer and acquaintance and would be as good as anyone to handle the matter. She and I had only been together for two years and I had made my money in five so she couldn't claim the entire 50% of my money.

As I was running the last rays of sunlight were filtering through the sky and I swear I could see Carolyn silhouetted against the backdrop of the hedges. As I approached I noticed that she was in a running suit as well and I admit I scared the hell out of her sneaking up, not to mention sneaking a peak. She was a tall girl with a fabulous ass and a modest topside and her hair was streaked the way schoolgirls do it these days.

"John, what a surprise." She reached up and moved a lock of her hair. "I was looking to, I mean I was getting..."

"Hey Carolyn," I put on a convincing smile. "Is Dan around, I might have some business to discuss with him." Now she did smile and stood legs apart, hands on hips, looking me up and down. It appeared her glance remained on my crotch too long for comfort.

"Yes Dan's right inside," she took my arm in a familiar fashion. "Let's go on in and discus your situation."

She led me up the driveway, nearly panting as we entered the porch. Then she swung the door open and I stood stock-still, barely able to believe my eyes. There in the living room I saw two men and they were double fucking a woman, one from behind one from the front. The woman was tied to a low table by her wrists and ankles, her back was covered with crisscross marks and they were pummeling her good. It took seconds before I realized that the woman was my wife and she was getting the fucking of her life. My cock involuntarily began to rise at the perverse sight before me. I felt a sultry breathe at my ear.

"Sorry, but Dan already has a client," I turned and noticed Carolyn brandishing a whip in one hand. "It looks like wifey will want that divorce after all." I kept staring as she licked my ear. "She's been cumming and cumming all day." I felt a hand enter my shorts from behind and a finger snake into my asscrack. "You know there are other alternatives to divorce." Her finger jammed up my hole to the knuckle and the whip handle applied pressure on my neck until I found myself on hands and knees, still staring at the spectacle. My wife was now making grunting sounds against the dick that was rammed down her throat.

"Perhaps we could come to some arrangement," her finger began pumping in and out of my asshole and I, embarrassingly, began raising my ass up to meet her thrusts.

"Dan likes a nice tight asshole every once in a while," she raised the whip handle from my neck but I was frozen in place, "and I like my very own bitch to play with too." The whip crashed down on my shoulders, the finger continued to pump and my jism streamed down onto the floor below me.

Divorce



Molly looked at her paper in disgust. 

Typos. Typos. Typos...

No wonder they called her the 'typo queen' in Literature 300. She bloody-hell never spell-fucking-checked anything!

"I give up," she yelled at her stupid image in the mirror. All she wanted was an A in the course but she lacked the basic decency to do the simplest things. Like feel excited about going to class. Or care to check her papers.

Okay. So the teacher was a drone. He made everyone fall asleep with his monotonous nasal lectures. And when he wasn't teaching he was nagging. Still, there was no excuse for her typos. That's how an A grade paper ended up with an F. 

She looked at the F which summed up her f-ing life, and understood why Van Gogh had sliced off his ears. Life simply sucked. And if that was not all, nothing mattered anymore.

Her husband of many years had just told her he wanted to leave. And she was mourning the loss of a lousy sexless ten year marriage. At 34, nonetheless, and with no kids to show for it, either. 

"I guess it's good-bye then," Matt had put a hand on her shoulder, just before getting into the car with a smug smile. 

"Yes," she had replied, praying to God she would not cry in front of him. At least not until his car was out of sight.

What she wanted to say, was: "Please don't go, Matt. I beg of you." But, those words never came out of her mouth, and she wouldn't have let herself live if they had. All she knew now was that her life was worth nothing anymore, now that he was gone. And she was still trying to understand why.

It was not that he had found anyone and fallen out of love with her that made him go. It was her. Just her. SHE wasn't sexy enough. SHE didn't light his fire. SHE failed on every level to make him happy. So, as a man he had to let her know.

"I need to be free. To meet more women. To have sex. You know, I love you, but I'm not in love with you anymore and I want that in my life," he told her one day during dinner. Just like that!

It's was too hard a blow. Just two years...

She had just started to get used to his quirks -- the way he snored, left the towel in a pile on the ground after a bath in spite of her constants request not to, forgot to take the garbage out in the morning, or let the dishes pile up in her absence. But when he kissed her, she forgave him for messing up her life like she had never imagined. And she wasn't even sure why. She could taste his mouth and it was a strange kind of closeness. Yet, his familiar toothpasty kisses had an odd way of saying "I love you" like no other words.

Two years was too soon.

"We can try new things in bed," she had offered, when he didn't kiss her like that anymore. She went to the lingerie store and bought a few strange things she'd never considered before. Thongs. Belts. Knee high socks. Ruffled feathery god-knows-whats! No more of those granny undies for her, anymore!

Anything for more toothpasty kisses! But nothing seemed to break the spell. He just grew colder, meaner and more distant.

SEX -- that word became a part of someone else's life, not hers, as she stayed up nights in her new bedroom and old study trying to think of how to go on. Sometimes, when she was really low, she slept on the warm rug with a blanket, next to the fire, and imagined people who slept on rugs next to fires but who actually made love. 

How she wished she could be one of them... It amazed her how bad her luck had been. After all, everyone else she knew had families -- had love.

As she wept, she was sure Matt could hear none of her crying, however. HE was probably in deep sleep, happily carrying on with his life, because that's what he was: HAPPY. That's what he had told her, anyway. Ever since she had moved to the study on her own volition, he had announced how happy and free and accomplished he was! How everything was going just as he had hoped for in his life -- omitting the "now that you're out" part. 

He beamed in the morning as he went to work. He beamed when he came home late at night. The only time he frowned was when they had dinner in the same room, or sat to watch TV. After a while, it made her feel ugly. And she didn't do it anymore. 

That was the thing about the relationship. Before the marriage he had treated her like a rose. Now he treated her like a thorn. Or worse, a dog. 

She had never been neglected before. In fact, the reason why she married him is because she felt loved with him. Other men she knew did not gloat over her like her did. They did not call her 'beautiful' and if they did, she had not noticed. They didn't have cute pet names for her, like 'honey'. She wasn't anyone else's 'world'.

But now she was the ugliest person she knew. A married woman who had become boring to her beautiful husband. Whom no man would hit on because she was spoiled goods – taken, married, done.

And yet, she wasn't quite sure why he had lost interest. What was wrong with her? 

Men still complimented her on her looks or her attire, even if they did not flirt. She was quite stylish. A bit of a trend-setter at work, where everyone dressed either like they were going to a Halloween party or like they were in drag. A bank was no place for people who wanted to live life. And she made no attempt to fit in. 

People at work depressed her. But she was full of life. Yes...she had no excuse to be morbid. She had it all. She had a man to go home to, unlike all the ugly spinsters at work. A man who wasn't just any man. He was her best friend. Her confidant. Her lover. Because THEY were HAPPY!

But he didn't seemed to think so. 

Now in her study as she rolled up in her flannels and polka-dot granny undies, she suspected that he was having an affair. Checked his computer for clues. Maybe an online affair. Maybe a name in a phonebook. But nothing. Then again, maybe "she" was from his work. People spent more time at work than they did with their families. Why not? But then she knew all the women at his work, and they didn't seem interested in him, or it didn't look to be so. She could think of one woman he was interested in – a Greek. But she didn't seem interested. 

But maybe it was not necessary for the woman to be interested for him to lose interest in her? He had told her, after all, that he was not in love with anyone. That he was, however, attracted to every woman. How he wanted to have sex with every woman who tempted him. 

"Yuck!" she shuddered, trying to get the image out of her head, as she lay there on the rug feeling sick of herself.

She couldn't understand him anymore. He certainly wasn't the sweet boy who had courted her through college. That shy boy was gone. In his place had appeared an egotistical smut she really cared nothing for. And, as his car drove away this finally occurred to her. And for once in her life she knew whom she would miss the most. 



Divorce Among Friends



The couples began arriving at my house just shy of a half an hour late, despite the fact that I had asked for them to get over to the house this evening by seven. I guess each couple had been trying to jockey its arrival time so that they would not be the first to arrive. As a result, the cars for two of the couples arrived at the top of my driveway at about the same time, at twenty-five after seven. My dad's truck, with him and Mama Connie, my stepmother, arrived just five minutes later.

I was still in the living room, trying to ask about drink preferences for Larry and Angela Klugh and Roy and Mary Jo Chastain, when Dad and Mama Connie came on in the front door without knocking or ringing, just as they had always done. While I was getting the drinks for the first two couples, Dad came back to the kitchen, retrieved two beers from my fridge for himself and Mama Connie, and followed me out as I brought the others' drinks out to them.

I'd already started working on a Bud Black Crown just as my visitors had begun to arrive. After ensuring that everyone was as physically situated and comfortable as possible, I sat down in my easy chair, facing all of them across the coffee table; except for Dad and Mama Connie, who sat near the piano, off to the right side as I faced the others.

Conversation to this point had been limited to simple courtesy greetings and responses, along with the minimum information passed among each other to determine drink preferences; adding their thanks for the courtesy. The emotional mix of sadness, grief, anger, and humiliation of the overall situation in which I now found myself, my family, and my friends this evening sort of put the brakes on the idea of trying to engage each other in any form of light conversation; no talk about kids, clubs, work -- especially not about marriages; most notably mine.

You see, I had had my wife, Jamey, served at her work place this morning for divorce on the grounds of adultery. She had not called me frantically, as some other wives might have done in that situation. I guess she had taken one look at the two pictures of her and Doug Stevenson in the throes of sexual ecstasy as Doug eagerly plunged his dick into her cheating cunt in doggie position (out of the couple of hundred that I had received from my PI) that I had included in the packet -- along with the transcription of extracts of some of their intimate conversations (also courtesy of my PI).

Evidently, Jamey had decided to follow my written instructions to pick up the bags that I had packed and left on the front porch, containing those items that she would need for an immediate move to wherever she would be staying temporarily (my grandfather had left me as the sole owner of the house when he had passed away before we were married, six years previously; and I had changed the locks after she had left for work this morning).

I had told Jamey in writing that I was putting the rest of her things, along with most of our (till now) mutually-valued items, in storage out on East Brainerd Road, just east of downtown Chattanooga. I had not heard from her at all, except for one sheet of paper she had evidently stuck in my storm door when I came back this afternoon that said simply, "I'm sorry."

****

Whatever conversation was going on in the room ceased when I finally spoke and all eyes fixed on me as they began to absorb what I said.

"I had my lawyer arrange for serving Jamey with divorce papers at her work place this morning."

I did not say it loudly or with any noticeable anger in my voice. But that one statement had the same effect as if I had shouted it at the top of my lungs. The all stopped talking and turned to stare at me. For a second there, all motion stopped as well. I was sure that word of my action had reached at least the two wives, but both husbands probably knew as well what I had done today before I spoke.

I was looking generally at a point relatively in the center of mass of all of them, so that I was not looking at the expression on any of their faces. I really did not care who was displaying awareness, shock, surprise, innocence, or the lack of any of those emotions.

This meeting tonight was not so much about announcing the dissolution of my six-year marriage to Jamey as it was to outline the path of my life in the near future -- "going forward," as the President and other Washington politicians liked to say in their speeches, in order to look as if anything they were doing was moving toward some sort of "goodness" in the immediate future; it was a silly Washington-focus-group-approved expression that meant absolutely nothing.

"Clint," my dad finally said, after about five seconds of silence, "are you sure there was nothing that you and Jamey could have done before having her served? Or, maybe, even now?"

When I did not answer immediately -- trying to hold in my anger and frustration over several situations developing concurrently this evening -- Mary Joe Chastain (naturally, as she was the most gregarious of the bunch) said, "Mr. Hood, as well as I know your son, you can bet that he weighed all the alternatives before doing what he did to Jamey." She placed her hand, the one not holding her glass of water, softly against Roy's arm, as her husband slowly nodded his head while pondering what he had just heard in silence.

Under other circumstances, I might have been grateful to Mary Joe for voicing a recognition of my emotional juggling abilities -- but, not tonight!

****

Just three months ago:

"Yeah, Clint," Roy said to me, in response to my observation, "it sure looks like a clandestine rendezvous to me too."

Roy and I were enjoying a beer together after watching one of the many basketball games on the big screens at Buffalo Wild Wings. I had just commented on the appearance of some hanky-panky in the far corner.

She -- an early-thirties bottle blonde -- had come in just short of an hour before with two other ladies. He -- a late-thirties guy with a nice suit and wingtips (definitely out of place in a sports bar) had come in alone just ten minutes ago.

Given the quickness with which he had vectored over to the corner of the room after getting his drink at the bar; and as quickly as she had detached herself from her group to join him in his corner; they had obviously either arranged this earlier, done this before, or both. Seeing the rings on each of their left hands, it was obvious that they were married, and other indications led one to be more than just a little certain that they were not married to each other.

"Hey, Roy," I had asked him, as I pondered the recent changes that I had noted in Jamey's level of affection and interaction with me -- and not for the better, I might add. "What would you do if you knew either one or both of those cheating assholes and you spotted them out in public like this?

"I mean ...sure, there's the risk of telling the aggrieved spouse and having the one that you tell getting angry and trying to 'kill the bearer of bad news.' But, don't you feel that the poor guy -- in the case of the cheating wife -- or the poor woman -- in the case of the cheating husband -- needs to know?"

Roy was not originally from Tennessee; he had only moved here from New York after graduating from Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute and being hired by the Department of Energy at Oak Ridge National Laboratory. He had eventually left ORNL and had come to Chattanooga after being hired by a local engineering firm four years ago. We had met, right after he and Mary Joe had moved here, at a book-signing that our wives had brought us to at Barnes and Nobel in town. We had discovered that we lived in the same neighborhood; dinner invitations were extended; and Jamey and I had added them to our list of compatible couples among our mutual friends.

Thus, having known Roy for a few years now -- and recognizing that he still had a lot of the New Yorker in him -- I was not really surprised by his answer. "Naahh! Too many complications. Anyway, the truth always comes out in these matters in the long run. Why ruin a good friendship by having a bad memory associated with you permanently?"

"So," I riposted, "you would just let it be and not say anything at all? What if it was the wife of a close friend? Would that not count for something?"

Roy rolled his glass between his hands on the small elevated table on which we had been enjoying our wings and drinks, thinking about his response. Then, he said, "I guess, if it was a good friend -- ya know, a close one -- and not just an acquaintance from work or other social connections, I might reconsider and try to let the poor guy know."

I was smiling at the very Southern influence that his wife, Mary Joe, was having on Roy just to get him to bend even a smidgen on his 'don't-get-involved' attitude ingrained in him since his childhood, growing up near the Red Hook section of Brooklyn.

I asked him, "You'd want to know if it was Mary Joe, wouldn't you?"

"Never happen," he bristled. Then he took a quick drink and banged his glass on the table to show that he was irritated with me; simply even for considering that his loving wife might stray.

"Easy, Boy," I said. "We are only what-if-ing here, ya know? I ain't making no accusations. I'd just like to know that my friends had my back if ... you know ... they ever ... well, saw ..." deep breath, "Jamey ... was doing anything inappropriate behind my back."

I took a swallow of my beer. "Ya know what I mean, Verne?"

Reference to the old Ernest P. Worrell commercials with Jim Varney caused Roy to laugh and drop his previously antagonistic stance at what I was saying. I laughed with him to let him think that everything was sunny and bright. But there was a growing darkness inside of me that I was not going to be able to conceal for much longer.

****

The silence following my announcement concerning my arranging to have Jamey served today, and Dad's and Mary Joe's short rejoinders, continued for a few more seconds until I broke it myself.

"I also had her asshole boss served with papers announcing my suit of him for 'Alienation of Affections;' and I had another set of papers served to their local vice president for their company's not enforcing their own rules about behavior of a sexual nature between married employees who are not married to each other."

I paused to get my thoughts together before continuing. I needed to say what I had to say in the proper sequence. I did not want to lose my rhythm, nor did I want to spoil the upcoming surprise.

"He was not very happy, especially when confronted with information supplied by my PI that substantiated that many of his employees there, including a couple in management positions, knew about the ongoing sexual relationship between my wife and her immediate supervisor, but did not say anything -- except among themselves in break-room gossip."

The expression on my face had no doubt gotten darker and darker as my anger grew at the memory of what had happened; along with the extent of collusion by her co-workers' silence in my wife's affair with her boss. The other couples in my living room wisely chose to remain silent and let me continue to vent.

"Yeah; funny thing about 'Alienation of Affections' lawsuits; they are not allowed any more here in Tennessee. But, because I had photographic evidence and eyewitness statements that corroborated that Jamey and that asshole had shared a room in Charlotte, North Carolina, during a qualified business trip three months ago, the judge that I found in Mecklenburg County, covering Charlotte, let my attorney process the suit from there. It seems that the locals there get a cut of all the legal fees associated with the suit, whoever wins."

"Man, Clint," said Larry, "you must really have a hard-on for that company to reach that far for a lawsuit!"

"Oh, it goes farther than that, my ... friend," I said, still angry, but recognizing that several relationships were about to change significantly ... and permanently, after tonight.

I picked up a leather-bound fold-over portfolio from the coffee table. From it I took out a manila envelope. I glanced at it to ensure that it the mark showing that it was the correct one, and tossed it so that it would slide in Roy's direction across the coffee table.

Roy took the large envelope, looked at his wife and then at me, and, with eyebrows raised, said, "What's this, Clint?"

"Take a look, Roy," I said simply. I was literally lifting the heels of my feet off the floor so that I would not be tempted to stand up and go over and beat the shit out of him and bitch-slap his stupid cunt of a wife.

As he opened the flap and removed the contents, his eyes widened and his lips fell open as he started to breathe rapidly.

"Consider yourselves served, Friends," I said quietly, though I wanted to be screaming at him.

"What ... you ... are you out of your mind?" Roy said, as he tried to steady his breathing.

"Roy, Honey," Mary Joe said, now sitting up, concerned over her husband's reaction to what he was reading.

Roy was now glaring at me and was apparently too upset to formulate an answer to his wife, so I helped him out.

"That is formal notice of my intent to execute a law suit under the statutes of the State of North Carolina for Alienation of Affections against Mrs. Mary Joe Chastain for, and I quote, 'malicious conduct that contributed to or caused the loss of affection...' yeah, them's the words; and they go on to say that, 'as a direct and proximate result of the negligent, wrongful, and reckless misconduct and behavior of Mrs. Mary Joe Chastain, the plaintiff -- that would be me -- has suffered damage to the affection and consortium with my wife.'

"In other words," I continued before the formerly bewildered Mary Joe -- now the very angry Mary Joe -- could say anything; "you, Mary Joe, knew what was going on -- having gotten a firsthand statement from my wife -- and chose to cover for her, maybe even encourage her, and not to inform me."

"You son of a bitch," Mary Joe said to me, now that she had gotten her wits about her. "'Alienation of Affections?' Me? I am not her lover. Serve this to that guy, Doug, that she has been screwing!"

I looked at her with a venomous scowl on my face and said, "Mary Joe, were you aware that Jamey and I shared a love that existed between us prior to her relationship with Doug?"

Mary Joe was slightly confused by my question, but she nodded and, ever the big-mouth, said, "Sure. You two were almost sickening as to how sweet you were to each other. It was obvious that you were in love. But..."

I interrupted and continued, "Has the marital love that Jamey and I shared been compromised, alienated, and possibly destroyed as a result of her relationship with Asshole Doug?"

Mary Joe sighed and said, "I suppose, but..."

I carried on, "And did your conduct, by your not telling me, as well as the direct conduct of this Doug guy, in his inappropriate sexual actions with her, contribute to or cause Jamey and me the loss of our affection? And you knew, or should have known, that Jamey's conduct with Asshole Doug would cause the alienation between her and me."

"Look, Clint," said Roy, now attempting to stand up for his wife, "you need to get real on this. We have been friends for a couple of years now. You are accusing US of being the bad guys in all of this, when it was your wife and that boss of hers that ..."

Mary Joe was now getting riled and interrupted her husband. "Anyway; you have no way to prove your claim about any of this; and, like you said, there is no such law covering this in Tennessee."

"Ah," I said with a deliberately condescending tone and expression, "but, as I said earlier; there is tort law for this in North Carolina."

Mary Joe did not respond right away, as she tried to gather her thoughts for her next counter attack against me. Before she could say anything, I said, "Remember the girls' week in Nag's Head?" I raised my eyebrows as I asked.

Mary Joe paused and her eyes narrowed as she tried to recall the trip she had made, along with my wife, Jamey, their friend, Angela Klugh -- now sitting next to her, and even my own stepmother, Mama Connie.

Jamey and I own a timeshare condo in Kissimmee, Florida -- (note to self: need to nudge my lawyer to take care of getting Jamey to take the timeshare in the settlement, since those damned things are otherwise too hard to get rid of normally). We also belong to a timeshare swap consortium that allows us to trade our yearly "vacation week unit" at our place in Kissimmee for the use of another unit at one of the consortium's member resorts elsewhere in the U.S.

Just about three months ago, right after she and Asshole Doug had begun to do the nasty, Jamey, my wife, had arranged a girls' week at a resort in Duck, North Carolina on the Outer Banks -- all of the small communities in that area being referred to collectively by the locals as 'Nag's Head.' Jamey, along with Mary Joe and Angela, had arranged their vacations to allow them to go together.

At the last minute, I had recommended that Jamey invite my stepmother along, for what I had hoped would be some 'adult oversight.' I was already having lots of misgivings about Jamey and her growing signs of an inappropriate relationship with her boss. The PI had already been on the case for at least two weeks, at that time, and I was concerned about Jamey's conduct whenever she would be away from me for a week -- even with two of her contemporaries along. Mama Connie, who does not work outside of her and Dad's home, had readily accepted the invitation to go along with the younger ladies.

"What about Nag's Head?" Mary Joe asked.

I did not answer her directly. Instead, I raised my hand, in which I now held the remote control for our state-of-the-art stereo entertainment system. With one click, I let her know just what I had found out from my PI -- with authentic audio accompaniment.

The transcript of what was about to play had been included, per my request, in the packet I had given to Roy. But it has such a ring of authenticity to it if one can actually hear the damning conversational evidence from the source. I introduced what they were about to hear by saying, "This was recorded from the adjacent vacation condo's patio, separated by privacy fence, via the use of a high-quality parabolic microphone."

(Sounds of seashore noises and a few cars, with the occasional sound of children at the pool on the other side of the condo)

Mary Joe: "You're not really doing that, are you? I thought that you and Clint were ... well ... good."

Jamey: "Oh, we are! It's just that this is so exciting and wicked, being with Doug. I know that it won't last; I will get my taste of the forbidden fruit and it will all be over soon, and I will continue to be exclusively Clint's forever after."

Mary Joe: "Until the next time, you mean ..."

Jamey: "Oh, there is not going to be a next time. This is the ONLY time; believe me, Girlfriend. Once I break it off with Doug, or he drops me before then, that will be it. I will have gotten my head back on straight, I can go off the pill, and Clint and I can finally get down to the business of making babies together; just as we had planned."

Mary Joe: "I ... I just don't know, Jamey. This is so unlike you. I couldn't do anything like what you are doing to my Roy. He would be humiliated, he'd be angry, he'd wonder if he were as much of a man as the guy that I was cheating with ... speaking of which... Are you with this guy because of ...?"

Jamey: "Oh, no. Clint is a much better lover, and he has a much better package than Doug does. It's just the excitement of the situation and the ... difference, I guess. And the thrill of being wicked just once before I finally settle down to enjoy the rest of my life with Clint."




Divorce Among Friends



Mary Joe: "Which may not be long if he finds out."

Jamey (now with a moment's hesitation): "You're ... you're not going to rat me out; are you?"

Mary Joe (with a sigh that -- even with the fence and fifteen feet of distance -- could not be missed by the PI's microphone): "No. I am not going to rat you out. But, I am not going out of my way to lie either. Do you hear?"

I clicked the remote, stopping the playback. During the playing of that excerpt of their conversation weeks ago in North Carolina, I had alternately watched Mary Joe's expression get gloomier, and Roy's get angrier.

"You bastard!" Roy said to me. "You had no right to eavesdrop and record my wife! I ought to sue you myself for invasion of privacy or ..."

"SHUT UP! Like Ronald Reagan said in the Republican primary debates in 1980, I PAID FOR THIS MICROPHONE! I also was the paying owner of the timeshare swap. And, because I suspected Jamey of cheating, I had also bought a second resort 'week' that I put to use as a timeshare owner by 'gifting' it to my PI. So he had every right to be there and record 'nature sounds of the beach.' It is just too bad that my cheating bitch of a soon-to-be ex-wife and your more-than-willing-to-cover-for-a-cheater wife happened to be talking while my PI was testing his nature-sound recording equipment on the patio next door to their -- well, my -- vacation unit."

I sat back and took a breath before continuing. "And, the judge in Charlotte was very sympathetic to my case, since that conversation ALSO happened in North Carolina."

Roy was very pissed now. "Well, you can just take these papers and shove them up your ass, Bud. I am not letting you take my wife to court and embarrass her in public; even if it does take place over in Charlotte."

I smiled and pulled another large envelope out and slid it toward him. "Oh, she won't be the only one who is embarrassed in public ... BUD!"

Roy angrily picked up the second envelope and almost tore it as he pulled out the documents contained therein.

It only took him a second before he stood and I could actually see spit fly as he shouted, "You son of a bitch! You have GOT to be insane!"

"You are served as well, Motherfucker," I said as calmly as possible; even though I was even more angry at Roy and his role in this whole mess -- as he was about to find out.

"What do you mean by 'Intentional Infliction of Emotional Distress'?" Roy shouted.

I smiled at him and said, "In essence, in those states that do not allow for law suits under the rubric of Alienation of Affections, they often have provisions for suits against those who cause 'Intentional Infliction of Emotional Distress,' abbreviated as IIED -- and Tennessee is one of them.

"This is where I sue you for, and I quote, 'outrageous conduct with the intention of causing -- or reckless disregard of the probability of causing -- emotional distress on the plaintiff -- that would be me; and that the plaintiff suffers severe or extreme emotional distress; and that the actual and proximate causation of the emotional distress by the defendant's outrageous conduct,' unquote -- the defendant being YOU, Asshole!

"Emotional distress can mean mental distress, mental suffering, or mental anguish. It also includes all highly unpleasant mental reactions, such as fright, nervousness, grief, anxiety, worry, mortification, shock, humiliation and indignity, as well as physical pain. Believe me; my attorney and I have gone over this extensively and I have studied it well."

"When did I ever do anything like that to you, you shit?" Roy shouted.

I raised the remote again, and said, "How about at the Wagon Wheel, where you know that I am a regular ... YOU SHIT! I knew that, with as big a mouth as Mary Joe had, she would at least have to tell you what she had learned about Jamey's infidelity, so I asked the PI to keep track of you two and what you said about me as well." I clicked the remote and the sound system gave off the distinct sounds of a busy bar, from which we could all hear Roy's unique Tennessee-touched New York accent contained in his loud voice. The context of the recorded dialog would easily lead the listener to believe that Roy had been sort of 'holding court' during the event.

Roy: "Yeah, she's out banging her boss and the dumbass is sitting at home; fat, dumb, and happy."

Mary Joe: "Roy, please; I told Jamey we would not tell on her. If you don't shut up ..."

Another male voice: "And you say your friend is named Clint? Is that Clint Hood, the guy who comes around here about three times a week? He plays darts and pool with me and couple of friends of mine every now and then."

Roy: "Yeah, that's him. And he really is a friend ... a stupid friend, but still a friend. He's fun to keep around to beat at golf and to be able to talk about as he gets his ass cuckolded by his old lady and her boss."

At this, the audio Roy led the bar crowd in a rousing round of derisive laughter.

I clicked the remote and looked at him. "Well ... Friend! I guess I must be a WHOLE lot of fun to keep around and make fun of with a crowd in which I am pretty well known, since I spend quite a bit of time there in my down time ... Well, I used to. Now, because of Jamey's actions, and YOUR big mouth, I am going to have to find a new hangout where I can enjoy a beer and some pool and darts, along with whatever NEW friends I might make ... after I sue your ass, that is, and drop you as a friend.

"OH, that's right ..." I said with a crude grin, "I've already done that."

I held up another document that was not in an envelope. "This is the preliminary report from a therapist that my lawyer got for me and whom I saw last week. Yeah, he pretty much authoritatively says that I am suffering emotional distress in the form of mental anguish, grief, anxiety, mortification, shock, humiliation and indignity; and all of that has contributed to the beginnings of acid reflux that constitutes evidence of the degrading of my physical pain."

Roy and Mary Joe were standing now; both of them angry and embarrassed, but silent.

I said to them quietly, "Feel free to show yourselves out; and I will see you in court."

Roy was still shaking in anger, so Mary Joe gathered up all sets of the documents with which they had been served this evening. She touched Roy's elbow and he looked at her. She mouthed, "Let's go," and they started toward the door.

Roy went out first and Mary Joe looked back before leaving. I heard her say quietly, "I'm sorry," just before I heard the storm door close softly on its hydraulic closure.

****

Several weeks before:

Swat!

Larry Klugh's smooth stroke and easy follow-through made me jealous every time I saw him with a driver in his hand. The drive off the tee that he routinely nailed often made up well enough for his lousy wedge shots and the rest of his short game; so he could usually carry the day on the course when we played.

We were at the driving range, each hacking away at a bucket of balls and carrying on a friendly conversation. I was very much in need, at this point in my life, of the company of friends and some diversionary activity and conversation.

Larry and I had met and shared a couple of courses over a decade ago in college at UT Chattanooga, and had maintained a good relationship over the years. It had not grown really close until each of us had joined the same country club right before he and Angela got married. I had received an invitation to their wedding, and, a year later, when Jamey and I had tied the knot, I had reciprocated by inviting him and Angela to attend ours. Since then, we had gotten to the point that they were another of our favorite couples with whom we could associate and relax together and share life experiences.

"I'd dump the bitch and burn her at the figurative stake," he said as he looked up to track the progress of his ball, now in flight toward the 300-yard marker.

"Okay, but how do you handle the fact that, even though she is a cheating, conniving, and lying cunt, with whom you have invested years of love into the relationship; love that just does not die overnight ... or even over months, or possibly years?" I was trying to feel my way along here emotionally. I had already discovered enough about Jamey's infidelity to determine that she and I were soon to be history as a married couple.

But ... God ... as angry as it made me; it was still painful as well. I really had loved Jamey with all my heart; and, truth be told, I still did -- despite her cheating. I just needed to hear the opinions of some other people that I knew and trusted, so that I could do what I needed to do and not feel so ... so ... isolated, I guess.

"Simple," Larry replied as he placed another ball on the tee fixture on the mat beside mine. He rose to talk to me before addressing the ball, and said, "Well, not really so simple, I guess; the poor guy would probably go right on loving her for the rest of his life, to some degree. But, the sensible guy applies one of the basic economic rules of business -- never try to recoup a sunk cost or throw good money after bad; with the expectation of getting back to the same point you were before the situation started to go bad in the first place. It never happens."

Pausing before he lined up his driver, Larry asked me, "Why all this interest in cheating spouses all of a sudden? You're not ...?"

"NO!" I answered quickly. "I ... just ..." and then I lied, "heard rumors about some dude where I work; that his wife might be hooking up with some Jodie on the side. And I was just wondering what to tell him if he asked my opinion about it. So, I am asking several friends what they think about it as I sort out in my own head just what I would say; that is, if I said anything at all."

This seemed to mollify Larry. He simply nodded and addressed his ball. Then he made another one of those beautiful drives that made me absolutely crazy with jealousy.

****

Larry looked at me sympathetically now as we all heard Roy and Mary Joe's car start outside at the top of the driveway that sloped down to my house. Angela was quiet and looked at the center of the coffee table.

Condensation on the glasses left there had dripped down to the level of the coasters, but did not threaten to roll off onto the finished wood. I suddenly recalled how Jamey would pitch a hissy fit at me for getting moisture spots on the wood furniture.

Mama Connie quietly asked Dad if he wanted another beer. Dad shook his head, 'No,' and looked at me with his own version of a sympathetic look.

The silence was finally broken by Angela, as she said, "So, Clint; not only are you divorcing your wife; you are divorcing your friends as well?" Her tone was not overly condemning of me, but it was definitely not in the category that one might call supportive.

"Angela, you and Larry are Catholic, right?" I asked, surprising the both of them with the seeming non sequitur.

"Yeah, but what has that got...?" Larry answered for his wife; a mildly confused look on his face.

"Are you familiar with the Catholic view of Excommunication?" I asked.

"Yeah, it's where the Church puts you out..." began Larry.

"No," I interjected. "I may be 'just a Methodist,' but even I know that the Catholic Church considers that one of its members actually excommunicates himself ... or herself ... by withdrawing voluntarily from actions, thoughts, and practices that would normally keep him or her in full communion with the rest of the Catholic faith community."

I leaned forward as I continued. "Formal excommunication by the Church is really just public recognition that the culprit has voluntarily separated himself or herself from full communion with the Church in the first place.

"In the case of divorce proceedings," I said, now steering the analogy around to the case in hand here tonight, "the court simply recognizes formally and publically that one or both parties have already withdrawn from full participation in the marriage.

"What I am doing, in my suits against Roy and Mary Joe, is simply getting the courts to recognize formally ... and, hopefully, as publically and embarrassingly as possible for those two assholes ... that they voluntarily withdrew themselves from my friendship by what they did; both the acts of commission as well as the deliberate acts of omission as they relate to covering for the actions that led to my divorce from Jamey."

The others sat silently for a few seconds as they tried to absorb what I had laid out mentally. The silence was then broken by the swish of the next large envelope that I tossed on the coffee table. Larry looked up and caught my expression of sorrow as my eyes locked on his. His brow furrowed, giving him a quizzical look, until he saw my eyes shift pointedly toward Angela as my mouth tightened into a thin line.

Angela suddenly looked terrified and shifted her eyes from me toward Larry, with an imploring look in them. I guess she suspected what might be in that cursed envelope.

"Are you divorcing us too, Clint?" Larry asked sadly, as he looked down at the envelope; then at Angela; and then at me.

I opened my mouth to speak, but my words caught for a second and I had to blink away the start of tears. I knew this would be painful for my friend. But, if I did not carry through with my plan, then I would be just as guilty as those whom I was confronting tonight. I would also be such a hypocrite.

"No," I finally answered and then I cleared my throat and said, "Just her." I now looked pointedly at Angela and she had her eyes closed and just shook her head, as if she could ward off what was coming by denying it.

"What do you mean ... 'Just her,' ... I ... what ... Angela?" Larry was very much taken by surprise.

All Angela could say at that moment was, "No, no, no, no ..." softly over and over.

"I'm sorry, Larry," I said, "but you need to hear this." With that, I clicked the remote to activate the next recording that was cued up.

(Sounds of waves and an occasional sea gull; then the sound of the closing of a sliding patio door; evidently to keep the air conditioning from getting out and the mosquitoes from getting in)

Angela: "Hey, Girlfriend; why are you sitting out here all alone on such a beautiful evening? Thinking about how much you miss Clint?" Pause... "Or how much you miss Doug?"

Jamey: "Shut. UP. Girl!" (Sound of patio chairs sliding). "I was just thinking that I might have screwed up big time by confirming Mary Joe's suspicions about Doug and me."

Angela: "You mean you told her?"

Jamey: "Well, I just confirmed it when she asked. She already seemed to have it all figured out. But she said she would not let on."

Angela (after a very audible snort): "Right; as much of a blabbermouth as Mary Joe is, you can bet that she will tell Roy right away; she just won't be able to contain herself, knowing that juicy bit of gossip. And, as for Roy..."

Jamey: "If that happens, I expect Roy to follow the 'Man Code.'"

Angela: "'Man Code;' what do you mean?"

Jamey: "Roy will keep what he knows from Clint in order to keep from having Clint hate him for being the bearer of the bad news."

Angela: "I hope you are right." Pause ... "Anyway, you know that I have not told anyone else since you told me about it that first time you and Doug got together."

Jamey: "And I appreciate it, Girlfriend. But, I expect part of your motive in helping me is payback for my helping you after you let your little situation almost get out of hand."

Angela: "Oh, Jamey; believe me when I say that I am truly grateful for you helping me out at the New Year's bash at the Country Club. I don't usually drink that much; and, if you had not helped me get cleaned up after you caught Javier and me fucking out behind the Pro Shop that night, then Larry would have divorced me for sure. And I am sure that he would have dug up the fact that Javier, as CEO at the club, had been arranging our meetings in the club's guest bungalows for almost a year."

I clicked off the recording. Cue the crickets and the bullfrogs for the next fifteen seconds. Then cue the sound of Angela's breathing getting heavier and louder as she approached the point of breaking out into big sobs.

Larry simply put his face down in his hands as Angela reached out ... but did not touch her now-tortured husband ... all the while, softly saying things like, "No, Larry ... it's not ... I mean ..." She could not form a coherent sentence; she was so surprised and -- I could only hope -- ashamed.

"Is the transcript of that in here?" asked Larry, looking up at me finally ... thankfully, with a look that did not seem to accuse me; but appeared to be devoid of any emotion at all.

"Yeah," I said softly, "as well as a CD-R with a copy of the audio, and a signed and notarized affidavit from my PI as to its authenticity."

"Thanks, Clint," Larry said at last, with only a quick glance at his wife before he stood and extended his hand to me. "You are a true friend to tell me; don't worry about me being mad at the messenger.

"Let's go home, Angela; you're going need some time to pack," Larry said as he began walking to the door, evidently not worrying as to whether his wife-of-the-moment would follow.

Angela looked at me and, despite her anguish at the almost certainty of losing her husband soon, displayed savage fury in my direction. "Satisfied, Asshole?" she asked with venom before turning to follow Larry out.

I don't believe she could have heard me when I said, "No; not really," softly.

****

The Previous Week

"If she is being as blatant as that; then, I guess, the best thing is to dump her ass while you are still young enough to try again, once things settle down for you, I mean."

I had just laid out my plan to divorce Jamey to Dad and Mama Connie, and swearing them to secrecy until Jamey could be formally served. Assuring them that my PI had given me enough data to make my case many times over, I informed them that I was planning to have her served in the following week; and have her moved out of my house as soon after that as possible. Thank God for Granddad's good sense to leave the house to me when he died -- and in my name only -- before I had married Jamey!

I was only about halfway toward my decision about what to do with our erstwhile so-called 'friends.' So I held off on telling my parents about that.

Looking back, I could see that Mama Connie had been a good match-up for Dad after Mom had died as a result of that drunk driver when I was just four. Mama Connie had lost her first husband in Operation Desert Storm in the nineties and she and Dad had met at a charity dinner. They had dated for over a year-and-a-half before they had finally tied the knot. Can you imagine being the best man at a wedding when you are not even seven yet? My dad and I had laughed at the pictures contained in his and Mama Connie's wedding album, especially with the one noticeable dip in the line of heads in the group shots of the wedding party that included me.

"Are you sure that you two can't work your way through this ... unfortunate set of circumstances, Clint, Honey?" Mama Connie asked sincerely. Unable to have children of her own, and with me being an only child, I guess she was trying desperately to keep me and Jamey together long enough to fulfill one of her most sought-after goals in life -- to have grandchildren to help fill the void of not having her own children.

'Unfortunate set of circumstances?' I thought. Just what was that about? I had just told her that Jamie had been cheating on me with her boss for months. That was not 'Unfortunate;' it was 'Deliberately Despicable!'

"I'm afraid not, Mama Connie," I told her as politely as I could. "If it were just a flirtation that had not gotten sexual, and if she had not gone to such great lengths -- not only to hide it from me -- but to get others to help provide cover for her affair -- No. We are done. I'm sorry."




Divorce Among Friends



****

Mama Connie had gotten up to help straighten up the living room by taking the glasses left by my once-very-good friends. She had wiped the moisture from the coasters and stacked them as well.

She was on her latest trip to the kitchen, when Dad told me what he had finally gotten up the energy to say.

"Well, Son; you are definitely burning your bridges here. You have served Jamey with a petition for divorce; two of your friends with suits for 'Alienation of Affections;' and one for 'IIED.' Does that just about cover it?"

I know that he was just trying to be matter-of-fact about things, while adding just a touch of levity in an effort to try to lift my spirits. He was probably certain that he had instilled sufficient degrees of survival instincts in me -- physically in the woods when I was a boy and a teen; and emotionally as I had matured under his mentorship. The confidence in his face showed that he was certain that everything would turn out well in the end.

That's probably why he blanched and almost dropped his beer bottle when I pulled out and handed him my last envelope; and said, "Almost."

****

It was now completely dark outside, with the light atop the tower on Lookout Mountain blinking off in the distance, along with the glow of the city on the horizons.

I reached the top of the driveway, heading for my truck, so that I could find a new bar to settle into for a couple a beers away from my house. I glanced back at the house and looked through the front picture window. Dad had the contents of the envelope in his hand, which included the transcript of one other conversation that my PI had recorded during that fateful week out at the Outer Banks. His look was a combination of incredulity and anger; Mama Connie's was one of anguish and misery.

I started up the big Cummins diesel engine and pulled away from the curb, not worried about leaving them at the house. I knew Dad had a key and would lock up when they left.

****

Author's Wrap-Up:

Yeah, I know. Almost none of this stuff would pass a sanity check in an actual court of law.

But, I am not an attorney; nor -- as they say -- do I 'play one on TV.' But, there is enough of stuff on the internet to provide a survey or an overview of various tort actions that may be considered in situations of 'Domestic Non-Tranquility,' so to speak.

It is truly amazing to read some of the seemingly over-feminized reasons given by legal analysts in the majority of states that have done away with 'Alienation of Affections' as a reason for suing others involved in an affair leading to divorce. They claim that it is only a 'revenge' tool for the so-called 'evil' husband to get his ounce of blood out of someone contributing to his losing his 'property,' as those bashing men for supposedly still having medieval attitudes toward the wife's place in a marriage still assert. They go on to claim that any hopes at possible forgiveness and reconciliation would be dashed by the efforts of the spouse to exercise his revenge through use of 'Alienation of Affections' law suits; also claiming that such cases polarize everyone and leave a scorched-earth result that affects all parties, especially any children involved.

Interestingly, there are still only a few states that retain 'Alienation of Affections' as a tort action: Hawaii, Illinois, North Carolina, Mississippi, New Mexico, South Dakota, and Utah. Most of the others allow the tort measure known as 'Intentional Infliction of Emotional Distress.' That comes as close as you can to the 'Alienation of Affections' action, but is much stricter in its definitions of what constitutes the case for the plaintiff.

Anyway, that's my story. I hope that you enjoyed it. In this case, it was not so much 'Burn the Bitch' as 'Burn the Enablers.'

Regards,

Flavian

THE END



Divorce and Future - Passed



Hi Folks, Thanks for the reaction to last week's piece, both positive and negative. Whether you realize it or not we really are trying to improve and are listening to your comments and views. This time out I had an idea in mind, but I also wanted to see if I could bring it in with fewer pages. I had to cut out a lot of the things I wanted to do, but I think it still turned out okay. As usual please let us know what you think of it and also tell us what you liked or didn't like so we'll know when we're on the right track. Some of you won't like the ending here and others will but that's normal by now, right? And lastly but by no means least I'd like to give thanks and credit to the incredible Mikothebaby for editing this story. She really makes what I do easy. all I have to do is jot down whatever pops into my head in a somewhat legible fashion and she takes it from there.SS06

* * * * * *

Getting over a divorce is always rough. In terms of emotional stress, they say that it's the equal of actually having your spouse die. I actually think that it's worse. I'm not a psychiatrist or any kind of professional counselor but I'm sure I'm right. Let's compare the two. When your spouse dies, you lose the person that you've lived with, loved and been emotionally attached to for whatever period of time.

After a divorce, the exact same parameters are in effect. The difference is, when a spouse dies, whether it's due to illness, accident or even foul play, you aren't left with the paralyzing self-doubt that a divorce brings. You don't spend months or even years wondering why you weren't enough or good enough for her. You don't spend a long period of time afraid to try with someone else purely out of fear that the same thing will happen.

There's also the fact that when your spouse dies, you don't have the pain of wandering into your favorite restaurant and seeing them with someone else. If you really loved that person, seeing that has to be one of the worst feelings you'll ever have.

Anyway, my name is Jake Reed and I'm just beginning to get over my divorce. First, I should tell you that my divorce wasn't one of those bitter drawn out things with both parties scratching and clawing for dominance and a bigger share of the marital assets.

My divorce was the kind that you don't very often hear about. It was warm and caring and filled with a lot of love. I didn't divorce Sarah because I wanted to. I divorced her because she broke my heart and left me no other choice.

Sarah also seemed to truly regret cheating on me, but she knew the kind of person I am. I value loyalty above everything else and her betrayal was the end. As much as I loved her, I still need to be able to look myself in the mirror every morning and respect the face I see looking back at me. So when she fucked her boss, she also screwed up any chance of us staying together. The child that resulted from their union only made it worse.

Sarah, who refused to marry the bastard after their affair and barely has anything to do with him, doesn't have a great life. That isn't my fault. I pay my child support on time and I'm actually a few months ahead of schedule. In my profession, your reputation means a lot so I can't afford to be labeled a deadbeat dad.

Sarah is also very liberal about visitation rights. She never tried to block me from having access to our daughter who is three years old now. She allows me to visit my daughter whenever I want to see her. It's still very hard for me to go to Sarah's apartment though. Every time I see her, I'm reminded of how much I love her and how special she was to me. There's also the problem that no matter how cordial we are to each other, everyone always assumes that I'm the bad guy here. Even people who know what really happened seem to think that this is my fault. I guess I was supposed to simply look the other way and pretend it never happened.

Almost everyone I know seems to think that if your spouse only cheated once that it's acceptable. I'm supposed to just say, "Okay babe, you've burned your get out of jail free card. Now you have to actually honor the promises you made to me."

But, if you can let it go once, why can't you live with it twice? Maybe three times should be the limit. And then for some people with extenuating circumstances there really needs to be a bigger range, right? Nope, that's not what I signed up for. I never once cheated on Sarah and I never would have. So, as much as I miss her and as much as I still love her deep down inside of my heart, I had to say goodbye.

In the end, it was her actions, not my refusal to accept them that tore our family apart. I still buy her a present at Christmas and her birthday without fail and she does the same. She also buys me a present for Father's day, but I'm unable to reciprocate. Mother's day is just so hard for me because her new kid just reminds me of what I lost and what we could have had.

The worst thing of all happened when I picked Tina, our daughter, up to take her to the zoo a couple of months ago. Sarah's kid follows my daughter around all over the place. I guess that's to be expected as he is her half brother. Anyway, Tina came over to me and hugged me and wanted to be picked up. "Daddy, pick me up," she said. The little boy, following her, came right up behind her and called me Daddy too. I almost lost it.

I hate leaving him behind when I take Tina out and though Sarah understands, it's hard on her. I'm still hearing from our mutual friends that she misses me and that she occasionally cries about our breakup even though it's been over a year. For some reason, she also named her son Jake, after me. She said it was her way of getting back at his father and it had nothing to do with me. But it ended up working out the other way. Her ex-boss just sends a check every once in a while and pretty much has nothing to do with the kid.

I guess the bleeding hearts out there are thinking that the kid had nothing to do with breaking Sarah and I up, but every time I look at him, I see the son I always wanted with Sarah and now will never have. What can I say, it's a truly fucked up situation.

Over the past few weeks, I've realized that I have to get my head out of my ass and move on with my life. No matter how much I loved Sarah, there is no going back there. But also I figured it would be a good move for her too. If she saw me starting to date and get out, maybe she would too.

Tonight had been pleasant but strange. My date for the evening, Mildred Henderson, is a beautiful woman. She has those classic features and that beautiful mane of blonde hair. She's very fit and very petite but I found myself comparing her to Sarah all night. I also found her losing in every category. On paper, Mildred is more attractive than Sarah, but to me she's nowhere close.

Even when I considered the date over, she was ready to go into extra innings. Surprisingly, it was me who wasn't ready to pull the trigger tonight.

I was sure that it would take a while before I was ready to have sex with someone other than Sarah, but it would happen eventually. I just had to get myself ready. That was what I had on my mind as I drove my 2012 Mustang GT back to my condo. I loved the car's low growl and I loved the view through the hood with its power tower partially obscuring my vision.

I also loved the fact that the car had so much power that I was always just one toe twitch away from a speeding ticket and an astronomical increase in my insurance rate. Driving a Mustang has always been a little bit like being Spiderman. Every time you get into the car you remember that, "With great power comes great responsibility."

Actually, buying this Mustang after my divorce had been one of the things that I did to restore my sense of confidence. I've had others but this one is the most powerful. There are only two things I can name that make me smile every time I see them. One is this car and the other is my daughter.

I locked the car and headed for my condo. Hearing the reassuring sound of the alarm system arming itself let me know that my baby would be safe from most of the dangers she'd face while we were separated.

Suddenly, a shadowy figure separated itself from the potted trees around the entrance to my building.

"That car is a fucking beast!" she said. In the shadows I couldn't make out her features. I could tell that she didn't mean to scare the shit out of me but she did anyway.

"I guess I really didn't remember it being so visceral and so powerful," she said. "You are really not going to like this at all."

I was immediately on my guard. I stepped away from her. I wasn't stupid enough to think that just because she was a female that I'd be able to beat her. For all I knew she could have a gun or a taser. I wanted to keep some distance between us, just in case.

As I stepped back, she moved forward.

"And that woman you were with tonight," she continued. "That bitch wants you badly, but it's never going to work so you may as well call her and dump her."

"She's a really nice lady," I said. "The problem was with me. I'm probably just not ready to get back into the dating pool yet."

"The problem is that there's only one woman that you're ever going to be comfortable with," she said.

"Look lady," I snapped. "Maybe you should let me handle my own life."

"Maybe I can't do that," she said. "Maybe I know better than you do what's good for you."

I started laughing and told her good night.

"Can we go inside and talk about this?" she asked. "This really isn't the way I foresaw this. Really, I'd imagined that we'd be hugging by now or you'd be really in shock."

"Are you out of your mind?" I asked. "I'm not letting some strange woman into my home. How stupid do you think I am?"

"Very," she said. She stepped out of the darkness and in the moonlight I was able to distinguish her features for the first time. I really couldn't tell much about her body shape. She was on the shorter side and maybe just a bit chunky, but that could have been the clothes.

I looked at her features and gestures. She bit her lower lip in a gesture I'd seen a million times. My ex-wife does that and though I've never told her, it was one of the sexiest things on earth to me. This woman had a lot of my ex-wife's features but she was older than Sarah. Sarah is going to turn thirty two on her next birthday. This woman was probably no younger than thirty five or forty.

There were also other problems. Sarah has green eyes. This woman has brown eyes that are somehow familiar to me though I've never seen this woman before. Her hair color isn't like Sarah's deep auburn either. Her hair is brown but that could be dye.

Her nose is also wrong, but somehow still familiar. Her mouth, though, from the lips to the way she moves it is one hundred percent Sarah. I was sure I knew this girl. I started trying to remember

Sarah's cousins. I knew that Sarah only had one sister and she too was far younger than this woman.

"Jeezus Daddy," she said. "What's taking you so long?"

I looked at her again and the first thought that went through my mind was that the woman was crazy. My daughter, Tina, is only three years old. I'm thirty three. This woman is at least thirty five or forty. That means I was born when she was seven or eight. There is no way possible for me to be her father.

"I'm not your father," I snapped.

"Holy shit," she said. "You have no idea how badly that hurts. That has to be why Jake is so screwed up. Daddy, look me right in the eye and tell me who I am.

I got closer to her though I was still afraid that she was planning something. I looked at her and she smiled. I took her hand and looked at it.

"That's cheating," she said. Tina has a small birthmark on her left wrist and there it was. But it was more than the birthmark, it was the way she stood. The way she smiled, her eyes, her lips, everything told me that this woman was somehow my three year old daughter all grown up.

My heart started beating much faster. I thought that I was going to pass out. For a few moments, I thought that perhaps I was going crazy. Maybe this was all just a dream. Maybe the idea of fucking some other woman had knocked me out and I was imagining this whole thing.

But she just stood there in front of me, smiling. Then she reached out and just grabbed me. I guess she had taken me so unawares with her revelation that my shock overcame my preparedness. But she didn't attack me. She just wrapped her arms around me and hugged me.

"God Daddy, do you know how much I've missed that? We haven't done that in a very long time," she said. "I'll need you to do that a lot more times before I die."

"Tina, what do you mean before you die?" I asked. "What is all of this about, who are you?"

"Daddy, can't we please go into your house and talk?" she asked. I slowly nodded. I knew that by everything I knew about life in general that there was no way I should be taking some strange woman into my condo, but somehow it just felt like the right thing to do.

Once we got settled, she quickly jumped up and ran into my kitchen and grabbed two bottles of soda and a bag of chips. "Can we sit on your balcony?" she asked. I nodded and we moved outside.

"The air is so weird," she said. "It's still natural air isn't it?" I looked at her bizarrely and started to rethink my decision to let her in.

She twisted off the cap of her soda and took a sip. Her entire body shivered. I smiled. I always had the same reaction to a sip of Pepsi.

"Oh my God," she said. "I can't believe this shit is still legal here. Daddy, don't let me drink too much of this. I don't need to be high while I'm trying to reason with you."

Again, I just shook my head and smiled.

"Okay, first off, I have to tell you that you are not going to believe most of what I'm going to tell you," she said. "But all you have to do is take one look at me and you'll know. You already know in your heart who I am. But I have to convince you to do the right thing. I'll only be here for a very short time. Maybe twelve hours at the most. And I'd really like to see Mommy too, and myself and Jakey as well."

"Daddy, if you haven't figured things out yet; I am your daughter. I am Tina Elizabeth Reed. I'm your daughter with your wife, Sarah Jane Reed. The only thing is that I'm from forty years in the future. A lot of things have changed in my time. Daddy, throughout history there are several people who were pivotal in making sure that things in the world didn't get out of hand. In my time we are facing the end of humanity."

"Hold it stop. Wait just a fucking moment," I said. "I've seen this movie a hundred God damned times and it never ends well. This is the point where you hit me up for a donation to help you create a time machine or some shit to save the world right?"

"No Daddy," she smiled. "I already have that."

"You have a time machine?" I asked.

"Of course," she said. "Well, it's not really a time machine. It's an iPhone app."

I looked at her like she was crazy. "They still have iPhones forty years into the future?" I asked.

"Daddy, ever since the 50th president back in 2036 it was decided that since corporations have all of the legal status and rights of individuals that a corporation should be able to run for president. Apple became president in 2040 and ever since then, every US citizen is issued an iPhone implant at birth. Anyway, the time machine app is, of course, illegal and you have to jailbreak your iPhone to install it. Jakey invented it. That's part of the problem and it's also why you're the only one who can fix this."

"Tina, if you are my daughter," I said. "Please don't bring that boy up."

"Daddy, there are some things that you really need to know," she said.

"Can you start out with the point about how you're dying?" I asked.

She smiled. "You really do care about me don't you?"

"If you are Tina, I care more about you than anyone else in the world," I said.

"Then why the hell did you desert us?" she asked.

"Tina, are you crazy?" I asked. "I visit you at least once a week if not more."

"You do in this time period," she said. "Later on in life you're going to be very different. Can I get back to this?"

"Anyway, in my time there are a lot of things that are different. Shit, Daddy, I don't have time for this. I'm just going to show you," she said. She grabbed my hand and dragged me, the soda and the chips back inside my condo and then outside. She led us over to my Mustang.

"Perfect," she said.

"Wait, let me guess. You're going to use my Mustang as a time machine like that Delorian in back to the future, right."

"That De whosis in what?" she asked.

"You know in the movie back to the future they used that Delorian sports car to go fast enough to slip into the time stream?" She was looking at me like I was crazy when she was the one talking about fucking time machines.

"I figure that Delorian did zero to sixty in about nine seconds. My Mustang does zero to sixty in under five seconds so the initial acceleration should get us into the time stream much faster."

"Daddy, time travel isn't about velocity, it's about the correct application of tachyon particles," she said. "Besides I'm not going to actually take you into the future. I'm going to project 3-d video holograms onto your windshield so you'll be able to see what my time line is like."

"Shit," I said loudly.

"What's wrong Daddy?" she asked.

"I really wanted to get a glimpse of the 2052 Mustang," I said. She screwed up her face curiously.

"Okay," she said. "Before we do this, take me to see myself."

"Tina, it's almost midnight," I said. "And isn't there some kind of law about different aspects of the same person being in the same place at the same time setting up some kind of time paradox and destroying the space time continuum?"

"Daddy, you have got to stop watching all of those old sci-fi movies. That is the biggest crock of horseshit I've ever heard. I've actually gone back and spoken to myself several times. I even gave myself a hug once, when I thought that I really needed it. What you're telling me is that whole bunch of crap about two instances of the same physical matter being in close proximity at the same time destroying the world, right?"

"Well, uhm right," I said. "They said that in Star..."

"No Daddy, it's just not true. Anyway, I want to see myself as a baby, so let's go. But I'll tell you what. If there are any seismic disturbances or the weather changes as we get closer, I'll back off."

We got into my car and I had to put her seat belt on for her. She smiled at me.

"Oh yeah, you guys don't have inertial dampeners yet do you?" she smiled. "This is so cool."

Her smile evaporated when the car took off. She gripped the seat as if her life depended on it. As we went down the ramp to the freeway traffic was light so I hit a button and my radar detector came up. I shifted gear and put my foot in it.

"Daddy, why are we going so fast?" she screeched. "Isn't this illegal? What is that thing on your dashboard? Can you please slow down?"

"Sweetie, we're barely doing a hundred," I said. "We haven't really opened her up yet."

"Daddy, I don't want to die yet," she said. "Please slow down. I feel like my face is going to come off. And I'm being pushed back against my seat."

"Yep," I said. "Don't you love it?"

"No," she said. So I slowed down to seventy miles per hour. She still didn't look very happy.

"Tina, am I still driving too fast?" I asked.

"Yes Daddy," she said. "This vehicle isn't even computer controlled. You're piloting it yourself manually. What if something happens or you get distracted?"

"Sweetie, how fast do you drive in your time?" I asked.

"During President Obama's second term all manual vehicles were limited to forty miles per hour," she said.




Divorce and Future - Passed



"You're shitting me?" I said. "There is no way I'm voting for Barack Obama again. First he neutered the Camaro when he bailed out GM. Then he neutered everyone else."

"Who the hell is Barack Obama?" she asked. "I'm talking about the president, Sasha Obama."

"Holy shit," I said. "His kid grew up to become President too. Didn't he do enough damage?"

"Tina, I love you honey but I can't drive forty. Even Sammy Hagar has trouble driving fifty five, but forty...I may as well get out and walk.

Eventually, we got to Sarah's building. We parked nearby and Tina held up her hand. Her hand started to glow and she pointed her finger at the windshield. The projection on the windshield showed what was going on inside of the building. When she found her mother's apartment she zoomed in and I saw Sarah sitting there on her sofa. She appeared to be reading a book. Tina moved to another room and we saw her half brother asleep in his crib.

"He looks so innocent, doesn't he?" she asked. "It's hard to believe what he's going to do to us."

"What?" I asked.

"We'll talk about this later Daddy," she said. Then she switched rooms and saw herself. She was sleeping in her room, holding tightly onto a teddy bear. As she watched herself she turned to me.

"You still have it don't you?" she asked.

"What?" I asked again.

"Mom always talked about you," she said. "Even, after you stopped visiting. She always told me that there were three things that always made you smile. Seeing me, seeing your Mustang, whichever one it was, and seeing her. She told me that she knew your marriage was over when you stopped smiling when you saw her. She was sure that it meant that you didn't love her anymore."

I let my head drop. "You still love her don't you, Daddy?" she asked. "Even now that you're starting to date other women, you still love Mom."

She scanned back to the living room where Sarah had her feet folded under herself while she read her book. Tina zoomed in again and I felt even sadder. Sarah was actually looking at a photo album. I recognized t from the cover. It was a bunch of pictures we'd taken when there were only the two of us, before we even had the kids. I wondered why the hell she'd want to waste her time looking at picture of the two of us together.

As if she could read my thoughts, Tina answered my question. "Because she always told me that it was the best time in her life," she said. "She never had to share you with anyone else, not even Jakey and me."

"Honey, this is kind of depressing for me," I said. "Can we move on?"

"Sure Daddy, I've seen what I needed to see anyway," she said.

We pulled away from the building and I found a secluded spot in the woods away from people.

Tina held her hand up and I stopped her.

"Honey, does that hurt?" I asked. She looked at me strangely and smiled.

"Of course not, Daddy," she said. "Everyone has all kinds of implants. Some are cosmetic, some are functional."

She grabbed her soda and pointed her hand at the windshield. "How's that Daddy?" she said. "That's my baby. The family tradition lives on, right?"

"What the hell is that thing?" I asked. She panned around the object.

"It's some kind of car isn't it?" I asked. "The wheels are so tiny. God damn it, the whole thing is tiny. Please don't tell me that my daughter drives a Toyota." I looked at her as if I was ashamed of her.

"Daddy," she spat angrily. "I just showed you what you wanted to see. She scanned around to the front of the car and there emblazoned on where the grill would be if the car had one was a horse. It didn't appear to be running."

"Please tell me this isn't what I think it is," I screamed.

"Yep Daddy," she said. "That's my brand new GMFC Mustang. It's a Shelby."

The car looked like a smart car with a Mustang sticker on the front. "Kill me now," I said. "Just take a gun to my forehead and shoot me now. Who is GMFC and why are they making Mustangs?"

"GMFC is General Motors Ford Chrysler, Daddy," she said. "Back in 2020 they got tired of all of the competition with the other car companies. They all just merged and ran everyone else out of the business. They're the only car company around now, except for the boutique manufacturers."

"Shoot me now," I said.

"Okay Daddy," she said. "What else do you need to see before I start with my presentation?"

"Show me what the cities look like," I said. I watched what looked like a scene from a shopping mall.

"Tina, show me something exciting like a major city, not a shopping mall," I said.

"Daddy, that's New York City during rush hour," she said.

"But why does it look like a mall?" I asked.

"We built domes over all of the cities over twenty years ago," she replied.

"Where are all of the cars," I asked.

"Daddy, very few people actually need cars anymore. Public transit is faster cleaner and more efficient," she said, sounding like a campaign ad for mass transit.

"What about personal freedom and the pioneer spirit that built this country?" I said.

"Well you're free to do anything you want that there isn't a law against," she said. "And you're free to explore the entire world via the transit tubes. At least during my time you can."

"Where are all of the different kinds of people?" I asked. "What about differences."

She looked at me like I was insane. "Daddy, what are you talking about?"

"Tina, where are the fat people, where are the black people, where are the old people? Every God damned person in that crowd looks the same."

"Daddy wait, I'll explain it to you," she said.

"How come no one is short?" I asked. "Who the fuck do they bully in school?"

"Daddy, no one is bullied," she said. "Bullying is a felony. Anyway, back when you were a kid society looked at it as being odd or wrong to marry a person of a different race or faith, remember?" she asked.

"By the time I was born though, it wasn't big news anymore, it became normal. By the time I was in my teens it was fashionable to be in a mixed relationship. Over the next twenty or thirty years there were so many mixed marriages, that at least here in America, everyone has black or Hispanic or Asian relatives. After a while, all of the racial characteristics just blended in. So there are no more dark skinned blacks. There are no Asians with almond eyes anymore. We all kind of look the same. Then, of course, doctors do DNA mapping during pregnancy so children who would be born shorter than optimal or taller are fixed before they're born. Everyone is also given a metabolic implant in their preteen years that stabilizes their metabolism."

"It analyzes their weight and gives them an appetite suppressant if they're in danger of becoming fat or makes them hungry if they're below their optimum weight. Realistically, the only differences between people now are hair coloring and since that can be dyed on a whim...Well it's like you said everyone with the exception of the older people, all kind of looks the same."

"I guess that's why most of the big stars and super models all want to marry older people. There are so many variations between them and variety is the spice of life Daddy."

"Oh, they also banned alcohol, tobacco, caffeine and all stimulants as well as all sweeteners," she said taking a healthy swig of her Pepsi. "This is so good. I can't believe it's still legal."

"Shoot me now," I said. "I really don't want to be alive in your time."

She moved to a different scene. It showed a large house on the outskirts of town. An older man who was still in very good shape slowly jogged around the perimeter of the property. At certain intervals he passed armed guards who all nodded politely to him and then shook their heads when he passed.

"Who's that Tina?" I asked. "Why does it look like his house is sequestered away from the rest of the city?"

"Because it is Daddy," she said. "He has enough money and enough power to just say Fuck you, to the rules and the laws. He does what he wants when he wants."

As we watched, he finished his run and a couple of young beautiful model types threw themselves at him. They seemed to be arguing over who he spoke to and who he wanted to spend time with.

"Okay, I want to be him," I said. As I watched, I noticed that he seemed to have everything anyone could wish for but he wasn't happy. The two women did everything they could to get him to notice them but he barely paid them any attention.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd swear that he was depressed," I said.

"Very good Daddy," she said.

"I don't get it," I said. "What the hell is he depressed about?"

"He did the dumbest thing in the world and lost everything?" she said.

"Let me guess," I said. "Some dumb assed merger fell through and now instead of five billion he's only worth four. Fuck him, he's a moron."

Tina burst out laughing and actually touched my shoulder the way she does now as a child.

"We'll come back to him Daddy," she said.

As I looked, the screen changed again and I saw a grave site. She pointed at a headstone and I saw the name on it. Seeing the name on the marker pissed me off.

"What the fuck is this?" I asked. The name on the marker was Jake Reed Jr.

"Did I have another child somewhere down the line?" I asked.

"No, Daddy," she said.

"So you're telling me that Sarah's kid is buried with my fucking name?" I hissed. "I'm sorry Tina. I love you more than I'll ever be able to show but I hate that fucking bastard of hers."

"Why Daddy?" she asked.

"Because every time I hear about him or see him it's like a slap in my God damned face. And he's a reminder of what his father stole from me."

"What did his father steal from you?" she asked.

"My wife, my marriage; he just stole everything," I snapped.

"Think about that too Daddy," she said.

"Should I be keeping a list of everything we're going to get back to and everything I'm supposed to be thinking about?" I asked.

"If you want," she said. Even as she said it, the screen changed and it showed another grave site. As she zoomed in on the headstone, I had a totally different reaction this time.

Even in my time we'd been divorced for over a year. I don't know why I started crying when I saw Sarah's name on a headstone. I cried even worse when I saw the inscription and I looked angrily at Tina.

She held up her hands. "She made me promise," she said. The inscription read "Sarah Reed."

The second line said, "Finally a good wife." The last line read, "An embarrassment no more."

"That was the way she felt for her entire life after the two of you broke up," said Tina. "And Daddy, you did this to her."

"Don't blame me, young lady," I snapped. "Your mother's actions are responsible for what happened to us, not me."

Tina started laughing again. She waved her hand and then showed me a different grave site.

"What the hell are we playing Tina, name that grave?" I asked. I looked at the headstone anyway. It was Kenard Davenport, Sarah's boss and the bastard who got her pregnant. I smiled.

"What happened to that bastard?" I asked. "Why does his grave look so old?"

"He just disappeared," said Tina. "A lot of people think that Jakey had something to do with it. But he didn't. Davenport actually died after Jakey did but before him, really."

"Tina that makes no fucking sense," I said. "How could he have died after Jakey but before him?"

She started to talk. "Let me guess," I said. "We'll get back to it."

The screen showed a room with an old woman on a bed. I could see that it was Sarah and that she was far older than she is now. She was talking to Tina.

"It doesn't make any sense that your father and I should live longer than our baby," she said. "But I'll be with him soon and maybe your father will be with us in a few years."

"Mom, the way things are going now, we're probably all going to be dead soon. Half of the fucking world is already brain dead thanks to Jakey's creations. Mom, why didn't you ever tell Daddy the truth?" asked Tina.

"Honey, what good would that have done? I hurt the man I love more than it is humanly possible to forgive. What if he had forgiven me? Then he'd have been a laughing stock for the rest of his life. As much as it hurt me, I deserved it," she said.

"Yeah Mom, but did I deserve it. Did Jakey deserve it? I really think that's what twisted the two of them."

"Promise me that you'll never tell him, Tina," Sarah said. "Jakey's dead so it won't help him now. All it'll do is hurt your father even more. So promise me that you won't tell him."

Before Tina could answer, Sarah slipped away. I couldn't help it. I started crying again.

Tina looked over at me. She could see that I was not taking any of this well. Maybe it was harder on me than she'd anticipated.

"Tina, can we just get to the bottom line, here?" I asked. "I'm sure you didn't travel back in time just to make me feel shitty, or did you?"

"Dad I..." she began and then hesitated. "Dad, you told me several times so far that you didn't want to live in my world." I nodded.

"Well Dad, you already do," she said. "But you don't have to. You alone, of everyone on earth, have the potential to stop this from happening. For the past few weeks, I've been moving both forward and back in time and everything hinges on you."

"Tina, what are you talking about?" I asked again. I was beginning to become frustrated.

"Dad, in every age, there are a few people who shape the direction the world will go in. Henry Ford put the world on wheels. A few years later it was the air age with the Wright brothers. Bill Gates, later on, didn't usher in the computer age, but his company shaped the computer age. There had been computers before and software before, but Microsoft took computers out of the hands of the eggheads and put them in everyone's living room and then in their pockets and now they're under our skin."

"Daddy, Jakey did that in my era. My brother was a twisted genius. And he changed the world. If Jakey had been a little less twisted, things would probably have gone in a different direction. But the way things are now, or at least the way things are in my time, Jakey is dead and the world may not last another twenty years beyond him."

"Before I came back here, I went forward into the future, but we'll talk about that..." she began.

"Let me guess," I smirked. "We'll talk about that later."

"Anyway, Daddy, Jakey, like you, was driven and brilliant. But where you took your tragedy and focused all of your intellect on business and making money, he used his in a different way. The two of you are like opposite sides of a coin. You became bitter and finally sad because of what happened. So after a few years of dating women like the one you had last night, business just became your reason to live. You concentrated on making money above everything else. Years later, when all of the bitterness was gone you were just a sad, lonely, old man. You have all the money in the world but no one to spend it on. You know or assume that everyone around you is only there for the money. You buy and sell people like most people buy food. The thing you long for the most is the people you really love. But they're gone."

"Jakey, on the other hand, is just like his father. He has the ability to concentrate on one thing to the exclusion of everything else. Stemming from his childhood, the one thing he wanted most was to be loved. It was the thing he was denied as a child. His mother was broken and his father never spent any time with him at all. He longed for his father's approval. So he took the thing he wanted and in trying to create something for himself, he changed the world forever but it just grew beyond his ability to contain or control it."

"How is that similar?" I asked. "And why are you linking me and that boy together. I have nothing to do with the fact that his father neglected him. Davenport was an asshole, we all know that. You can't expect me to try and fix things that he fucked up." 

"Daddy, God damn it," she screamed. "I don't have time to keep leading you through this with baby steps. Yes, Davenport was an asshole. But you're a bigger one. In fact you may be the biggest asshole on the planet. You, Daddy, not Davenport are the reason we may all be dying."

I was taken aback by the fury in her voice.

"What did I do?" I asked.

"Well, for one thing, you keep fucking interrupting me," she snapped.

"Daddy, Jakey started experimenting in robotics and artificial intelligence when he was only twelve. At first, he made silly little things like his talk box. That thing made him rich. It was a box that he could actually talk to. It was a very rudimentary AI. It would access the internet and get information and hold actual conversations with him. He could ask it questions and it would answer them. For a boy with no friends and no one to pay any attention to him, it became his best friend. Then he started working on bodies. Because of his brilliance and his success with the AI, he was able to set up partnerships with several other inventors and use or license their products. I remember going back to Mom's house when I was about twenty. I was in college by then and Jakey was still at home. There was a woman with him. Dad, I sat in the same room with her and was amazed at how beautiful she was. I thought that she was just trying to latch onto Jakey because of his brains."

"When I tried to talk to Jakey about it he just smiled and called her into the room. He asked her what she would do for him. She told him that she'd do anything he asked. Jake asked her if she would take a knife and slit her throat. She nodded her head. Jake handed her a knife and I swear if I hadn't grabbed her, she would have slit her throat."

"When I grabbed her wrist, she was still trying to fight me to cut her throat. She was stronger than hell and Jakey was just standing there laughing. Finally, he told her to stop. And then he did the weirdest thing. He told her to shut down and she just slumped to the floor."

"My little brother, by the time he was seventeen years old, had made himself a companion robot that was so realistic, that I couldn't tell the difference. Of course, she was a one of a kind. She had a pulse and she was warm to the touch. She also had the benefit of full AI. It would be years before robots like her were widely available. Jake had made her in conjunction with a sex toy company. After I understood what she was for and what she was, I looked at her more critically and I could tell. But over the next ten years, Jakey got richer and richer and his robots got better and better."

"Besides the sex robots, Jakey's company made labor saving robots and work robots and all different types of robots. Things finally got to the point that robots were doing most of the work for most people. We began to get fat and lazy. Jakey helped us again. He started programming the robots to take care of us. So if you need to get out and get some exercise your robot would make you ride a bike or run. Think about it. Your robot would actually DVR your favorite TV shows for you, then it would make you get your fat ass out there and ride your bike. Daddy, after a while no one had to work or think or do anything. The robots even make the robots. So very soon after that, the robots began to make the higher levels of decisions that people were simply to jaded or too disinterested to do. We're taken care of like idiotic children."

"Like you Daddy, Jakey had the ability to look at things and see the big picture. He realized that things had gone too far and that he needed to turn the whole thing off. But the robots had evolved. It wasn't like in Terminator. There was no "Judgment day," when the machines became self-aware and took over the planet. It was very subtle but also far more inclusive. The AI computers, the ones that controlled banking and the roads and traffic and manufacturing and food production and logistics, all became networked so they could serve us more seamlessly. Five years in the future from my time, no human had to work anymore. Ten years from my time, the human race has devolved and our intelligence and creativity had taken a marked step backwards. Fifteen years from my time, humanity tried to take back control from the machines and lost. Twenty years from my time was blocked, I literally couldn't go there or any further. Perhaps that was the limits of the technology I inherited from Jake, or perhaps there's nothing left of the world, I really don't know, but Daddy, you're the only one who can save us from this."




Divorce and Future - Passed



"Why me?" I asked. "What does any of this have to do with me?" I asked.

Tina flashed the images on my windshield back to the sad old man and his two blonde bimbo companions.

"Those women with the old man," I said. "That's why he doesn't care about them. They're robots aren't they?"

She shook her head sadly. "No Daddy," she said. "They're human. They're two twenty year old women who love you. You just aren't capable of returning their love because once you lost Mom, once you lost the only person you really wanted to be with and found out the truth, you were simply incapable of loving anyone."

"Me?" I asked. "That old man is me?" She nodded.

"Okay, so I'm a sad old man," I said. I was doing my best to cover my shock that I was the old man in the video. "I still fail to see how the rest of this is my fault. You should probably be talking to Davenport."

"Wouldn't do any good Daddy," she said. "Davenport will disappear very soon. His body will never be found. And he really has nothing to do with all of this anyway."

"But you said that your half brother went crazy from lack of love and attention from his parents. I have nothing to do with that directly. Okay, your Mom loved me. And I have to admit it. I still to this day love her. How does that make me responsible for what your half brother does?"

"Daddy, I'm breaking a promise to Mom, by telling you this, but in the end if you're happy it won't matter. Jakey isn't my half brother. He's my brother, Daddy. I don't mean that I call him that, or that we grew up together. He is my actual, physical DNA matched sibling. He is your son, Daddy. In my time you didn't find that out until after he was dead."

"But your mother never..." I began. "She didn't know did she?"

"Yes Daddy, Mom knew from the beginning," she said.

"Then why didn't she?" I started.

"Because Daddy, she loved you so much. She spent the rest of her life loving you. She just never moved on. She couldn't. She didn't want you to stay with her when you didn't want to because of a baby. As bad as you leaving her hurt, it would have hurt her more to have to look at you every day knowing that you weren't together because you felt the same way she did, but because you had to be there for the baby."

"But..."I said quietly.

"Daddy, she simply was incapable of doing anything to hurt you. She considered what happened to her enough pain for you to go through to last your entire life. She didn't want to add to it. You do know that she called you her husband until the day she died, right?"

"If she loved me so God damned much then why did she cheat on me with her boss?" I asked.

"Daddy, Mom didn't actually cheat on you," she said. "She was set up by Davenport. They went out on that business trip and Mom never trusted him or any man around her. Even when they were having dinner with the clients or their colleagues, Mom never drank anything harder than soda. And she always made sure it was from a fresh sealed bottle. Daddy, Mom woke up the morning after one of those business dinners and found Davenport in her bed. She knew that he'd had sex with her and the first thing she did was grabbed the glasses off the table and put them in her suitcase. When she got home she had them tested and found out that the drinks were clean."

"Several of her colleagues from work had heard about what happened and started to proposition her, because they thought that she was doing things like that regularly. It took her years to find out what had happened and by then the two of you had gone your separate ways. Finding out only depressed her more. It turned out that Davenport had seen the way Mom was about her drinks. He drugged her food."

"Of course, Mom, being the way she was, when she came home, she came clean, as much as it hurt her. She told you about it. Daddy, you went ballistic, I'm sure you remember that. And I know that you were hurting too but you just didn't think about it. Would a woman who wanted to cheat on you just come crying to you and tell you it had happened?" I looked at the floor.

"Daddy, Davenport didn't get Mom pregnant. She was already pregnant when she went on the trip. She just didn't know it at the time. Jakey is your son. But you were so angry at Mom that she just never had the chance or even the reason to tell you. You realized it later in life. But by then, it was just too God damned late to do anything about it. Think about it. Your wife, the woman you love, was basically set up and date raped by the man she worked with. It was orchestrated by her boss. Instead of getting support and caring from the man she loves, she got anger and scorn. She lived out her life thinking about how she hurt you instead of by being loved by the man that she never stopped loving."

"Jakey, your son, grew up without a father's love or example to teach him what kind of man he should be. His mother was so broken hearted by losing the love of her life, that she also neglected to show him any love. To get the love he wanted most of all, Jakey had to try to manufacture it. His relationships with people were tenuous at best. He just never trusted people. He put all of his trust in his machines. In the end he was disappointed because, first, he found out that programming, no matter how sophisticated, simply isn't love. And the robots he put his trust in ended up killing him to prevent him from taking them offline. Now the entire world may be at stake. But Daddy, it isn't too late."

"So you want me to jump forward in time with you and fix your brother?" I asked.

"No Daddy," she said. "That wouldn't be a good option."

"Good," I said. "I'm still crying over what Ford plans to do to the Mustang in 2015. It looks more like a Taurus than a Mustang. They're going to destroy my car's image for the sake of modernization. I'm really not ready to see that thing they call a Mustang in your time period." She laughed.

"So what you want me to do, is to go back in time with you and prevent your Mom from cheating on me then?" I asked.

"No Daddy," she said sadly. "I can't let you do that either."

"Why not?" I asked. "We could make it so that none of this happened. That might save everything."

"Daddy, I've been there," she said. "The version of you back then had his head so far up his ass that he couldn't do anything but spout bullshit. He kept telling me that there was no reason he'd ever take a cheating whore back. If she was a real woman, she never would have let herself get in a position where someone could take advantage of her."

Looking at my daughter, I could see that she was telling me the truth again. And I remembered several drunken rants where I'd said almost exactly those words to friends of mine who were trying to help me get over Sarah.

"Maybe I could go back in time with you and meet my former self and explain it to him myself," I suggested.

"God damn it Daddy," she spat. "No time travel for you."

"Why the hell, not?" I asked. I wanted to travel to a different time. I'd seen her. I knew that it was possible and I really wanted to experience it. I'd been a sci-fi nut all my life, I love technology and I wanted to see the future. I also wanted that God damned Star Trekky feeling of going back to the past and feeling superior and better than the people of that time period. I could just see myself whipping out my iPhone and completely freaking out the people in the eighties. Just before I beamed back to my time line, I'd do that Mr. Spock hand thingy and say, "Live long and prosper." Shit, I could invent Dos Equis. I really could be the most interesting man in the world. My own daughter was trying to deny me my chance at time travel.

"Because I love you Daddy," she said. There were tears running down her cheeks. "One of us is enough."

"Daddy, Tachyon particles are lethal. They eventually kill all living tissue that they come in contact with. Time travel is deadly. That's why Jakey abandoned his research in that area. I'm already riddled with cancer."

I just looked at her and realized exactly what she must have gone through over the past however long she'd been jumping back and forth through time.

"So why did you?" I began.

"Damned if I do, damned if I don't, Daddy," she said. "On one hand, my world is about to end. My family is torn apart. Robots are trying to protect us into the grave. When we try to take control of our lives back they won't let us, because they don't think we're capable of taking care of ourselves anymore. They'll kill us to be able to continue to take care of us. Like some kind of psychotic baby sitters. Even if the world wasn't ending, which it is, I'd rather die than live like that."

"I have no world to go back to. Even if I didn't have the cancer, that world would end before I lived out my life. On the other hand, if you fix things here, that time line will never come to pass. With your gift for business and the way that you care about people, tempering Jakey's genius even if he does the robotic thing, it'll never get to the point where the robots totally rule our lives. Jake won't have to go to that extreme because he'll have all of the love he needs growing up. Shit, maybe he'll go into a totally different field. I'll grow up in a different and better world. Maybe even one where I can fall in love and have babies."

"Daddy, if everything goes well and you handle your end it will be as if I never existed. The version of me here will grow up happy and well-adjusted and so will Jake. You and Mom will grow old together and live out your lives happier and the whole world will be a better place."

"But Honey, I don't want you to not exist," I said.

"Daddy, that' so sweet. And it's the next thing I need to talk to you about," she said. "You've always loved me so much that I could feel it. I need you to share that love with Mommy and Jakey. And please don't try to make the version of me from this time line like me. Let her grow up her own way. Maybe she'll dye her hair pink and drive a Camaro, but she loves you and she's your daughter."

"Shit," I said. "If Ford fucks up the 2015 Mustang like the stories I saw in the internet, maybe I'll end up driving a Camaro."

"Seriously Daddy," she said, shaking her head. "But this part is important. You can't tell anyone about me or what's going to happen in the future."

"But Honey, if I can't tell anyone about you then how can I make things right with your Mom?" I asked.

Tina just started laughing hysterically. "Daddy, that's the easiest part of all. That woman loves you like there's no tomorrow. If you just showed up in the middle of the night and told her you wanted to ram a telephone pole up her ass, she'd try it for you. Don't worry. I'll be watching you for a few moments while I get ready for nothingness."

"What do you mean nothingness?" I asked.

"Daddy, I'm on really strong pain-killers for the cancer. If you're successful, when I do my next time jump, I'll just jump into nothingness. I won't exist anymore. My consciousness will be blended with the version of me here and my time line won't come to pass. On the other hand, if you're not successful, I'll jump back into my fucked up world. I'll have to try something else, but every jump gets more painful. Maybe you'll be almost successful and I might need to do one more little thing in which case you'd probably see me again. If I came back before I did this time, you wouldn't remember me. If I came back after this one you would. So, hug me goodbye Daddy and hope for both of our sakes that you don't see me again. I'd really like to get my rest. There are a few surprises that I've put in place for you, so look out for them."

I hugged her long and hard and she smiled. The she got out of my Mustang and held up her hand. It started to glow from inside and she waved and was gone.

I looked at my watch. It was almost two a.m. I shrugged my shoulders and got into my car. I drove back over to Sarah's apartment. I waved at the doorman. I'd been here a few times at night so I knew both the night guy and the daytime doorman very well.

I knocked gently on Sarah's door because I didn't want to wake the kids. There was no answer. Then I realized that it was very late. I tried calling her. The phone rang three times before she answered it. "Jake, what's wrong?" she asked. The concern in her voice was very clear. I guess since I never called her unless it was about the kids, she thought that something major was wrong.

"Sarah, I'm standing outside of your apartment," I said. I heard the phone drop and the next thing I heard was the sound of the locks being taken off of the door.

She opened the door looking very sleepy. I walked into the apartment and she just kept staring at me. I took her by her hand and led her back to the back of the apartment. I went into Tina's room and kissed her on the cheek. Then I went into Jake's room and kissed him too. That did get a reaction from Sarah but she didn't say anything. I took her hand as I closed Jake's door and led her to her bedroom.

I pushed her down on her bed and started kissing her. She melted into my kisses. She grabbed me by the back of my head and tried to suck my tongue out of my throat. As I kissed my way down her cheeks, down her neck and onto her breasts, she sighed contentedly.

I licked both of her nipples alternately and she shivered in anticipation. I began to finger her through her nightgown and she pulled it up to give me access.

I quickly pulled down my pants and shorts and gently entered her. It had been so long and it felt so good that I couldn't believe it. Our coupling was very frenzied with both of us reaching a climax far too soon. When I looked at us in the mirror, I had to laugh. I mean there I was still in my shirt and socks. I was lying next to Sarah who had her hair messed up and her nightgown bunched up around her neck.

She was crying.

"Sarah, I'm sorry," I said. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, Jake," she said. "I loved that...I missed it so much." I leaned over and gently kissed her cheek.

"Next time it'll be better," I said. "But tonight was about something else."

"Are you saying that this is going to happen again?" she asked. "When? I want to be ready for it."

I looked at her strangely. "Sarah, I think you have the wrong impression," I said.

Her face fell. "I should have known," she said. Huge crystalline tears dropped from her eyes again and I kissed them.

"Honey, you're acting like this is a booty call. Like I'll just drop by and want to have sex with you. That isn't what this is about," I said.

"Then Jake, what is it?" she asked.

"Sarah, don't ask me why or how, but I know everything. I know what really happened to you and I even know how. I know about Jake. I know that Davenport isn't his father. This isn't about us getting back together for sex occasionally. This is about me apologizing for not realizing that you'd never do what I thought you did. This is about me thanking you for loving me as much as you do and about me letting you know that even though I was being an asshole, I love you just as much. This is about me telling you that I want us and our kids back together again as a family and I don't give a half a God dam what anyone thinks about it. Even if we have to move away to another town or whatever, I want us together again. Is that okay with you?"

She was speechless. She just nodded her head and hugged me. I pulled her to me and we went to sleep locked in each other's arms. When I woke up the next morning, with my arms still locked around Sarah there were two small faces staring at me in shock. Tina just smiled with a knowing look on her three year old face. Jake smiled too in shock.

"Daddy, I had to help Jake get out of his crib," said Tina. "I had to tell him you're back."

"Back," said Jake, aping his big sister. I held out my arms to him and he tried to toddle over to me and fell on his butt. I picked him up and he smiled. "Dadda," he yelled.

All of the noises and movement woke Sarah up. She looked over at me and smiled the biggest brightest smile I'd ever seen.

"I was afraid that I was dreaming. I didn't want to wake up and have it go away," she said. "But you're really here." She hugged me again.

"I have one thing to do today then we're going to go shopping for a house," I said. "You and I do have to have a talk though."

"Anything you want, Honey," she said.

"No Sarah, anything WE want. What I wanted to talk about was that I'm going to stop paying your alimony soon," I said.

"Of course, all you had to do is ask," she said.

"Sarah, don't you want to know why?" I asked.

"Nope," she said.

"Sarah, because you don't have to pay your wife alimony," I said. She just smiled. Then she realized what I meant.

"Jake you can't," she said.

"Why not?" I asked. "Are you turning me down?"

"No never," she said. "But people will..."

"Skip them," I said.

"Kip dem," said Jakey.

I left the house leaving Sarah happier than she'd been in a long time. And so was I. I had my family back together and had gained the son I never knew I had. It was like all of the sadness and anger I'd been carrying around with me just vanished. But in its place was a new anger.

I drove to the building that Sarah had worked at when we were married. I waved to all of the guards and several people that I knew. I went up to her old office. I actually knew the woman who'd replaced Sarah as Davenport's assistant.

"Hey Connie," I said. "How's it going?"

"Great Mr. Reed," she said. "How's Sarah...oops forgive me. I shouldn't have asked that."

"Connie, Sarah is great," I smiled. "We're looking for a new house."

"You guys are back together again?" she asked. I just nodded.

"It's good to see that things worked out...for someone," she said.

"Connie, maybe you should get your job in the secretarial pool back," I said.

"Fat chance," she said. "I've asked him several times, but he won't let me go. And if I made a stink about it, he'd probably get me fired."

"Well, he's expecting me," I lied. "He called and told me he had some of Sarah's stuff and I wasn't going to let her end up alone with the bastard." I intended to kick Davenport's ass. He was a lot bigger than me but I was going to hurt him.

I walked into the office and he looked up at me with surprise on his face. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Do you remember my wife, Sarah?" I asked.

"Didn't you kick her to the curb, just before she quit?" he asked.

"You mean after what you did to her?" I asked. He looked at me again more seriously.

"Are you wearing a wire or something?" he asked. "Anyway, I have no idea of what you're talking about and you have no proof."

"You drugged her food," I said. "You knew she was paranoid about someone getting her drunk so she never trusted you enough to drink around you. But no one ever thinks about the food."

I saw his face pale and I knew that Tina had been correct. While he was sputtering and trying to think of a plausible denial, I punched him in the face as hard as I could. I felt the flesh under my punch move as his nose flattened and erupted in blood. At the same time, I saw the anger break out on his face and his expression change to rage.

Unlike in the movies and on TV, he did not fall down on the floor knocked out by the force of my righteous blow. He didn't roll backwards destroying his chair and shrink back from my fists of fury.

What he did do was to get a really pissed off look on his face and smile as he stood up towering over me. "I'm gonna fuck you up," he said calmly. He was so calm in fact that it scared the shit out of me. His words had the ring of truth to them. And looking at him I was sure he'd make good on the threat. At least Sarah loved me and she'd know that I either died or got my ass beaten badly trying to defend her honor.

"It's pitiful isn't it," I spat. "Someone as big and strong as you, with a job like yours is so pathetic that he has to drug a woman to get laid." The expression on his face got even angrier as he came towards me.




Divorce and Future - Passed



Suddenly, behind him I saw a familiar flash of light. "Sorry, Daddy, I forgot one thing," said Tina from behind him.

"Wha..." he said turning around.

"I love you Daddy," said Tina as she wrapped her arms around Davenport and both of them blinked out of existence.

I remembered her words when she'd shown me his grave. The date on his headstone had been today's date. I really thought that I'd killed him. But then she did say that he just disappeared.

I walked back to his outer office.

"I really don't have time to wait for him, Connie," I said. "If he ever shows up can you just tell him that I came by?"

"I sure will," she said. She got up and walked into the office and looked around for him. She knocked on the door to his bathroom and opened it when there was no answer.

"I really thought he was in there," she said as I left.

From that day on, my family and I were fine. A few years later, an aunt I never knew about left me nearly a half million dollars in her will. I knew it was the other Tina. I used the money to start my business. I called it Reed and Son Enterprises. We specialized in business facilitation.

For his eight birthday, I bought Jakey a robot. He looked at me as if I was crazy. I asked him if he wanted to take it back and exchange it. He nodded his head and off to the toy store we went. He ended up with two toys in place of the expensive robot. He got a scale model Mustang and a baseball bat. He now plays first base for his high school team. I go to every game and as many practices as I can. He wants to go into our family business after college.

Years later, when the subject of that birthday came up in conversation, he told me that he didn't want me to think he didn't appreciate the robot, but it gave him chills. He thought it was kind of creepy.

Sarah and I had two more kids before we settled in to enjoy our lives together. I take it easy and let Jakey do most of the day to day running of the business now. He got married to a blonde woman who looked a lot like those two I had in the future, but he's happy and in love so who am I to question it. 

Tina got married right out of high school. She's now a fat and happy suburban house wife with two screaming kids and there are still no robots. Ford did fuck up the Mustang in 2015, but I couldn't bring myself to drive a Camaro. I just buy and rebuild older Mustangs.

I guess unlike a lot of unhappy, miserable, divorced guys, I was lucky. I got a chance to look at my divorce and the future...And I passed on both. For me the divorce was awful and the future sucked. Life is good.

The end

* * * * * *

Okay as a parting shot, let me explain the title. There were so many of you who didn't get the play on words in the title for the story "Hindsite" that we decided to explain this one. This story is basically a tribute to the story "Days of Future, past" For those of you who aren't familiar with it. It's a classic X-Men story. In that comic, an older version of Kitty Pryde comes back to our time to warn the X-Men about the future. Our story is called Divorce and Future-Passed. Because the protagonist gets a look at his divorce and the future and he decides to pass on both. 



Divorce Annulled



I was working in the den when he finally got home. I suppose I should have been upset that he'd missed dinner and was three hours late for a movie we'd agreed to go see together. But we weren't doing together much these days. We'd already been through years of the too-comfortable daily routine that inevitably ground down to monotony, replaced by the big mood swings, the fireworks, and the fallout; everything but the divorce, I guess. I wasn't sure what we were waiting for. Maybe each of us hoped the other would pull the plug so the one who didn't could pretend dignity. There wasn't much else left.

I didn't even pretend to listen for his car anymore, and was so engrossed in editing my first attempt at film that I didn't hear the door or his footsteps coming down the hall. I jumped when his calm voice, from the door behind me, cut through the background music of the Dave Grusin CD.

"I'd like to talk with you," he said.

"I'll be at a breaking point in another forty-five minutes or so," I mumbled, not bothering to look up.

I jumped again when his arm came over my shoulder and hit the computer's power button. A window came up and asked if the file should be saved. He hit the Enter button, the file saved, and then the computer winked off.

I swung around on my chair and glared at him. "That was uncalled for."

"In the dining room, please." He turned and walked out.

"I was in the middle of editing that piece." I followed him, more curious than angry. I didn't believe there was much he could do to anger me anymore. I'd lived with anger for so long; even I was sick of it and had refocused the energy on building a new career.

The curtains in the room were still open, framing the dead night beyond. He'd turned on the chandelier and the room blazed with its light.

He was seated at one end of the dining room table. The chair adjacent to his was pulled out. I sat in it. His briefcase lay next to his elbow and he opened it and pulled from it a file.

"I'd like an explanation," he said. "I believe I deserve that much."

I was lost. "An explanation? For what?"

He laid the file folder in front of me, aligning it precisely with the edges of the place mat beneath.

I looked at him, but he only sat, with his chin in his hand, looking back at me.

He was quite calm and without emotion. There was none of the recent sanctimonious judgement in his voice and I had no hint anything was amiss.

I opened the file folder and felt my stomach twist in a nauseating contraction. In the center of the file was a neat pile of photographs. My hands went damp with the kind of flop sweat I hadn't experienced since my high school prom and they trembled as I rapidly flipped through the stack. I felt the heat flood into my cheeks and tried to think what to do. I re-stacked them and quickly closed the folder on them as though with the action I could erase their existence.

"God," I said stupidly without looking at him, "how did you get them?"

"They were mailed to me at work," he said. "Fortunately, Doris respected the 'personal' stamp on the envelope and didn't open it first."

I thought I might throw up. "Ty—" I said.

"When were they taken?" he said.

"Tyler—I'm sorry, Ty. I never meant—you were never supposed to—I didn't—"

"When were they taken?" he continued as though he'd asked if I'd noticed the weather that morning.

"Look, maybe we'd just better call it quits, and have done with all this." There would be no chance for mediation now. Better I pull the plug and let the whole soggy mess swirl down the drain. I almost felt relieved. I started to stand.

"Sit down," he said and suddenly his voice was filled with emotion.

Surprised, I sat.

"I asked you," he said in the quiet way he expressed rage, "when the photographs were taken."

He did deserve an explanation. I met his eyes then. They were cool, detached.

"You were on the New York-Boston junket."

"Four months ago in June."

"Yes."

"Where were they taken?"

"A man's home."

"A man's home." He picked up the file folder and centered it on his place mat. "The photograph's were taken in a man's home."

"Yes."

"What man?"

I cleared my throat. "I don't know his name. He calls himself Steve."

Ty's eyes seemed colder. "These photographs of you were taken in a man's home. But you don't know his name."

I looked down at my hands clenched together in my lap. The diamond in my wedding band needed cleaning. I touched it, miserable. I didn't think there were any words I could say. I nodded.

"This man who calls himself...Steve," Ty opened the file folder and pulled out a snapshot. He studied it and then held it in front of me. "Is this his cock you're sucking?"

"Ty—please—I'm sorry—"

"Is this...Steve's...cock in your mouth?"

"Yes," I said.

"How did you come—excuse the pun—to suck on Steve's cock in his home?"

I twisted my fingers, helpless to save him from further hurt. "He was my...birthday present."

Somewhere in the house, a faucet dripped a single drop every few seconds. I counted eight drops before the phone began to ring.

Ty laid the photograph down in front of him, pulled his cell phone from his briefcase, and flipped it on. "Hello," he said. His eyes did not leave the picture.

"Yes," he said, and picked up the photograph again. "Yes, I did."

He listened.

"They seem quite self-explanatory, though your note was enlightening, too...yes, yes; I'm very interested in the details. I may have a proposal for you soon. May I get back to you?...Yes, I have your number, thank you."

He punched the phone off, and placed it back in his briefcase, his eyes still on the photograph. "You were explaining about Steve—your—birthday present?"

"Must I continue?"

He looked at me. "I think you must, yes."

He made me nervous. Ty didn't lose his temper easily. In the years we'd been together I'd seen him lose it three times, and each event remained a vivid memory. "It was Sherri and Gail. They knew we were having...problems...and I think—"

"What sort of problems did they know about?"

"They could see for themselves what we were going through, Ty," I said carefully. "They are my friends. We talk about our lives, and I never lied to them."

He smiled. "You never lied...to them."

Carefully, I said, "I never lied to you either, Ty."

We watched each other.

"Go on," he said.

"They knew you were going to be gone for my birthday, and I think they felt sorry for me. I guess I'd been babbling 'poor me' a lot." I pulled at the ends of the fringe on my place mat. "I didn't know anything about it. They took me out to lunch. We ate, drank some wine, and they had balloons and flowers and presents, and there was this envelope. With a gift certificate." I tugged hard on one thread that was longer than the others. "It said 'a four-hour session with Steve.' I asked them what it was for, and they giggled and joked about how Steve was going to give me the make-over of a lifetime."

I sighed. "I thought that meant hair and make-up and I never felt less like going for a make-over. But, they were insistent, and after all the trouble they'd gone to, not to mention the money they'd spent, I didn't want to hurt their feelings. They delivered me right to his doorstep. There wasn't much I could do, but go in."

Ty picked up another photograph. "But Steve didn't do hair and make-up."

My voice seemed to come from far away. "No," I said.

"How did he explain himself?"

"He was matter-of-fact about it. 'My business is to provide safe sexual experience and experimentation. We have four hours together.'"

"How did you respond?"

"I thought he was joking! I thought, the girls have really outdone themselves this time and are having one off at my expense. But he didn't laugh—only watched me sort it out and put it together, and then I realized—and I wanted to leave. But the girls had driven off, and when I asked to use the phone to call a cab he said he'd be happy to let me use the phone—if I'd talk with him for at least fifteen minutes first."

"What did you talk about?"

I pulled so hard the thread snapped. "He asked a lot of questions."

"Like what?"

"What I...liked...past experiences...fantasies...things like that."

"What did you tell him?"

I began to shred the thread, pulling the weave apart with my fingers. "I don't know, I can't remember, Ty."

He plucked the thread from my fingers. "I think you remember word-for-word, and that's how I want to hear it."

Suddenly weary, I rested my head in my hands. I didn't have the strength left to pitch another battle.

"If I can't get it from you, I'll get it from Steve," he said.

I snapped upright, "You wouldn't!"

"Oh, yes," he said, and picked up another photograph. "I will."

I crossed my arms across my chest and leaned back in the chair, away from him. It was going to be a long night. I thought we'd been through the worst, but this was going to be a new low. I knew he was just getting warmed up. "He asked how often I had sex. I told him we used to have sex a couple times a week, but that it had been...some time...since we'd last...he asked how long...I said three months...he asked..." I lapsed into silence, remembering my initial embarrassment at Steve's intimate questions.

"He asked?" my husband prodded, doggedly.

"He asked...how often I...masturbated...I said I ran hot and cold...he asked me to explain..."

"You masturbate?" my husband enunciated the syllables with some precision, as though it were the first time he'd heard the word.

I'd been married to the man for eleven years and thought I could read his every expression, but I couldn't tell what he was thinking. "Sometimes," I said, faintly.

He looked at me, but he had gone someplace away from me. "When do you masturbate?"

"Well, it's not like I have a schedule—I just—do—when I—" I was having difficulty remembering words.

"When you—what?"

"When...when I'm...aroused, I suppose."

"And your arousal runs hot and cold."

I fidgeted in my seat, trying to find a comfortable position in an increasingly discomforting conversation. "Yes."

"How did you explain it to Steve?"

"Sometimes, I don't think about it for weeks...and other times..."

"Other times?"

"It seems about all I can think of...like I'm..."

"Like you're, what?"

I felt warmth spread across my cheeks. "In heat."

My husband laid down the photograph and took a long look at me. "Do go on," he said.

"He asked when was the last time I masturbated...I told him that morning...'Before that?' He asked." I swallowed, my mouth felt dry. "I said...'The previous night'...'And before that?' He asked...'That morning'...'So,' he said, and then he smiled at me, 'you're currently in heat.'"

"When I'm on trips, sometimes I call you at night and the line is constantly busy. When I do get through and ask, you tell me you've been online," my husband said with the pleasant manners he reserved for strangers. "What exactly do you do online?"

I stood. "I'm thirsty," I said, and walked into the kitchen.

I got a glass from a cupboard. The crystal was heavy and cool in my hand. I went to the sink and turned the faucet on. With both hands, I held the crystal beneath the faucet and let the cold water fill it, until the water spilled over onto my hands. I leaned against the sink and looked again at my ring. I set the glass down hard on the counter, and tried to pull off the ring, but even in cold water, it stuck.

In the dining room behind me, my husband's voice cut through the sound of the running water. "Dana," he said.

I jumped. "Yes," I said. I picked up the glass and gulped water. "Coming."

I turned off the faucet. With a dishcloth, I blotted the outside of the glass and then my hands, and with excessive care, carried the full glass back to the table.

When I sat on it, the chair felt stiff and unforgiving.

The photographs lay across the width of the table in sequential rows.

I did not look at them.

He waited.

"Sometimes," I said, "I'm doing research for my projects."

He waited.

"Sometimes...I chat."

"With men."

I sipped more water and cleared my throat. "Yes."

"Sexual chats."

"Yes."

"Do you masturbate after these chats?"

"Yes."

"Do you masturbate during these chats?"

I ran my fingers over the glass. "Sometimes."

"How long have you been having sexually explicit chats online?"

"I don't know—maybe a year?"

"And phone chats? Have you ever talked with any of these men?"

My throat seemed paralyzed, and I had to try again before I could speak. "Two."

"Did you tell all this to Steve?"

I laid both hands flat against the table to steady myself, and exhaled. My body suddenly felt alien and out of balance. "Yes."

"What happened after he asked you all these questions?"

"He...asked me...if I was...wet."

"Were you wet?"

"Yes."

"What, then?"

"He...told me he was...going to...fuck me like I'd never been fucked before."

Ty looked at the photographs. "You were visibly aroused."

"I couldn't help it—it just—I wasn't—" I pressed my hands against the surface of the table. "Yes."

"He didn't wear a condom."

"No."

"Did he discuss this with you?"

"He asked if I used protection."

"You told him I do. But, you don't."

"Yes."

"How did he respond?"

I stared at the table. "He told me that he was going to fill my cunt with his cum so that when I left I'd be dripping with it."

"Did that excite you?"

"Yes."

"Stand up."

"What?"

"Stand up."

He grabbed hold of my arm and pulled me, roughly, to my feet. He kicked my chair away, his arms circled my waist, and he fumbled with my pants.

I didn't understand.

Shocked, I realized he had unbuttoned and was unzipping my pants.

"Ty," I said.

His thumbs dug inside the waistband and in the next moment as I began to resist, he stripped down my pants and panties, exposing me.

"Ty," I said, in disbelief, "stop."

"You're wet just telling me about it. You've soaked your panties right through," he said. He placed a hand on the back of my neck and applied his weight to push my head right down onto the table. "Spread your legs," he said and, when I didn't move, levered his knees to force mine apart.

"Ty—don't do this—"

I heard him unzip his pants, and tried to stand, but his entire weight was on my neck and the thought came to me that he might actually hurt me.

"All these years. I believed I married the girl next door," he said, and then he shoved his rigid cock up me and began to fuck me with savage force. "All these years. When the reality is—she's quite the nasty little slut."

"No—Ty!" This was not the man I had married either. This man frightened me.

"I've got a lot of fucking time to make up," he said and rode me with deliberate, hard, deep strokes. "I'd forgotten how tight you are, and Christ, but you are wet." He put a hand between my legs and began to stroke me. "He must have really enjoyed you."

In spite of myself, when I felt his fingers on me, I cried out.

"How many times did he fuck you that day?"

It was impossible to remain still against those fingers.

"How many times?"

"Three," I said.

"How many times did you cum?"

"Seven," I whispered.

"You must have been good," he said, "because he wants to do you again."

"What?" I said, shocked motionless. "What did you say?"

"That call I took. That was Steve. He sent the pictures because he wanted to ask me if he could use you again," my husband continued to fuck me, "on a regular basis." 

I moaned and rotated my hips, suddenly in an agony of need, wedged between his fingers and cock.

"I'm thinking about it," he said, pressing the full length of his cock into me, "but I'll want to be there so I can watch." His fingers stopped moving, "Jesus, your clit just went rigid." He squeezed it, hard.

I moaned. "Ty."

He grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled until I had to arch my back. "Do you know what happened when I opened that envelope and pulled out those pictures of some stranger fucking my wife, Dana?" He held me, speared on his cock, while he spoke quietly into my ear. "My cock got hard. I can't remember my cock being so hard." He pulled back, almost pulling out of me, then rammed the length of himself in, his balls slapping loudly against me. "There was my beautiful wife. Her legs tied open. Her wet cunt spread wide. Your cunt was hot pink, Dana, and so swollen. You were obviously in great need. You already had some jism leaking out of you—and there was somebody else's stiff dick ready to fuck you."

I was very close to the edge and couldn't stop squirming. I moaned, my tits painfully flattened against the tabletop.

"And then, it was fucking you. His cock. Up my wife. I thought I might have to jack off right there in the office, looking at those photos of somebody else's cock up my wife's cunt." He took his hand off me.

"Ty—please—"

"He shot his cum in you," he said, and I felt his cock spasm. "I want to watch him shoot off in you." He said and his body went rigid as he came.

I felt enflamed, my body hot, swollen, ripe.

He stood panting over me until his cock went limp enough to slip out. I heard him zip himself up.

"Well, well, well," he said.

I stood on legs that shook. "Ty," I said and turned to him.

He was looking out the window at the end of the table. "Seems you've already got another audience."

Through our picture window, our next-door neighbor stood silhouetted in his. He was obviously watching the tableau we had unwittingly presented.

"Shit," I said and tugged at my shirttails in a panic to cover my nakedness.

"No," my husband said. Facing the window, he slammed me tight against him, and ripped the shirt down off my shoulders.

"No!" I shrieked, struggling to pull away.

"I want to show him how nasty my wife is," he said and bit my neck while he pulled the cups of my bra down, exposing my tits. He pinched my erect nipples. "Spread your legs for him."

"Please don't do this to me—"

"I know how much you need it." His fingers returned and began to stroke my clit with light slow strokes. "I want my slutty wife to perform for my neighbor."

I knew I must be displayed in the most lewd fashion but couldn't seem to think beyond the feel of his fingers against my engorged clit. I cringed from shame, but couldn't move from his fingers.

"Make him hard, my little slut," he breathed into my ear. "Make him so hard watching you that he's gotta take it out and stroke it for you."

"Oh, god, Ty."

"You know, I intend to publish Steve's pictures of you on the net."

"Nooooooooo—"

"Yes, baby. Just think. All those men you chat with can jerk off looking at your wet cunt. My wife's nasty wet cunt."

"Oooooooooooooo—"

"That's my nasty girl. Fuck my fingers. God, I love you like this."

I came on an explosive wave that roared through my body, leaving me shattered, whimpering, shamed, on unsteady legs.

"Consider this a reconciliation, Dana," he whispered as he braced me against his body. "Same marriage, with a whole new set of rules. But this time," he ran his hands possessively down my body, "I'm writing them." 



Divorce Behind the Orange Curtain



Joyce Randall's cell phone rang. She raced across the bedroom, the towel flapping about her mature body. She cursed as she noted the name of the caller, Ex-husbeast. Stealing her nerves for the battle that was sure to come, she hit the answer button. "Yes, Jason, what is it now?" she demanded.

"I'm running a bit late. Work has been frantic this week," Joyce hated the whiny tone. It was terribly unbecoming on a man, a supposedly adult male, a professional who got paid well to manage other people's affairs but could never seem to manage his own. She waited silently, dreading what she knew was coming next. "Perhaps we could re-schedule this. Next weekend I have a yacht race for a client and the following weekend is mine anyway. But things should lighten up in a month or two."

Joyce counted to ten mentally before replying as calmly as possible. "No, Jason. We cannot reschedule your weekend with your children. The boys are expecting you. And the baseball game you have been promising for two months. What's more, you are not the only one with a life, you know? I actually have plans." 

She drew in a deep cleansing breath before continuing, "Plans I will not reschedule or postpone so you can spend another weekend with the blond bimbo of the month. So turn your car around. Grow up and be a man. A father. We will see you in half an hour," without waiting for any response she hung up the phone.

Life in the OC. Orange County divorces sucked sometimes. Yes, she had managed to keep the house in Seal Beach, just two blocks from the ocean. Yes, she received enough alimony and child support to live reasonably well. But none of that was adequate compensation for putting up with Jason's continued bull shit.

Dropping the towel, she stared at her figure in the mirror. In her clothes, Joyce had a body that could stop traffic. Despite giving birth to two children in less than two years, hours spent in the gym had paid off. Her legs were toned and tanned. There was no sagging in her triceps. She made certain of that, childhood memories of playing with her grandmother's chicken wings haunted her still. 

But it was what she saw when she stood naked in front of the mirror that haunted her more. Her thirty-eight double 'D' breasts that she showcased with low cut tops and push up bras had scars beneath them. Worse yet was the massive horizontal scar that bisected her taut abdominal muscles. Naked Joyce feared she looked far more like Frankenstein's monster than the aspiring starlet she had been fifteen years ago. 

Damn, the gene pool that meant her pale skin scarred more easily than most. Damn too the ravages of time and two pregnancies that had necessitated the plastic surgery to repair sagging skin and muscles that not even hours in the gym could melt away. 

And damn the self-centered bastard that she had married. After the boys' births, he had barely touched her for months at a time, complaining constantly about her muffin top and sagging breasts. Until in desperation, Joyce had consulted a plastic surgeon. The man was one of the best. And to be fair, he had warned her that there might be excessive scarring. But to Joyce it seemed a small price to pay to save her marriage. Except that it had not. Jason merely turned from complaining about the sagging to cruel remarks about the scars. Then she discovered that he was having affairs. It had been the end.

Now she was faced with a dilemma. Clothed she was still a beautiful woman. More than striking enough to attract men's attention. But with Jason's recriminations echoing inside her mind, vanity kept her from dating and more importantly from engaging in the active sex life that her body craved as it approached sexual maturity and the peak that should bring her pleasure beyond her wildest dreams.

At least until she met Blair. When her youngest son Thad had started kindergarten in the fall, Joyce had her mornings free once again. It was nice to no longer have to pay childcare just so she could work-out or shop. But those activities did not fill the new longer hours. 

Besides Joyce was tired in many of ways of the shallow life that surrounded her. The small town girl from East Texas was revolting at the excesses all around her. There had to be something more than lattes, hairdressers, the latest fashions and exercise trends. 

So Joyce did something that would have shocked her friends. On one of the rare weekends when Jason did not weasel out of taking their sons, she had sat down with a notebook on the beach and thought long and hard about what she wanted to do with her life. What she wanted to be now that she was grown up. 

One thing kept coming back to her, the creative writing classes that she took in high school. She had enjoyed them even more than the drama class that eventually drew her away from that place. She had even won a couple of competitions. But it had been years since she had written anything. She was though an avaricious reader, especially of romance novels. Her Kindle was her constant companion.

She came up with a plan that weekend. She would join the local romance writers group and take a few classes. She would give it a try, write a few things and see what happened. Joyce was overwhelmed with her success those first few months. It seemed she was natural. The critique group that she joined loved her stories. She had thought about submitting them to publishers, but the thought of another rejection was too terrifying. Then one of her new friends mentioned indie publishing. The woman had already self-published six books and as she said was making a nice little allowance. 

Joyce decided to give it a try as well. She took several of the stories she had written and polished them up a bit. Her friend offered the name of a graphic designer that would create covers and format the books. But Joyce was not happy with the final results. So she decided that she wanted to do it herself. She had bought a software package and tried her hand at it. It was a complete disaster. By the time she picked Thad up from school she was frustrated. Her head was pounding and her temper was short. Joyce was not a woman to be stopped so easily. She signed up for a class at the local community college, determined to best this obstacle as well. 

Blair was the instructor. A good decade younger than Joyce, he was the complete opposite of Jason. His dirty blonde hair hung well past his shoulders. The surfer tan on his face disappeared beneath a beard. And his slim build looked as if a stiff wind would blow him away as her grandmother would say. 

They had not hit it off. The kid, as Joyce thought of him, might be brilliant at computers but he was a lousy teacher. By the end of the first class, she was even more confused than she had been...and the migraine headache was back with a vengeance. She had walked out of the class an hour early and sent a scathing email to the dean of the college demanding her money back. Instead she had been invited to attend a meeting with the dean, the IT department head and Blair. Her comments about his teaching methods, or more accurately lack there of, had been well received. She had been asked to work with him from a student perspective.

She was shocked after their first meeting over coffee to discover that she actually liked the 'kid.' He had been eager to listen and take on board her suggestions. He had also been eager to stare at her cleavage. The attention of a younger man was flattering, especially to her battered ego. She had even worn out a few batteries with her toys fantasizing about teaching him more than just how to teach. But she knew that it would remain within the realm of fantasy. She had not taken a single lover since the divorce and she doubted that she ever would. Her fantasies and writing would have to be enough for her. It was better than the ridicule of another man when he saw her naked.

But all that changed the final afternoon that she and Blair were to meet for coffee and lessons. He had shown her some of the new handouts that he was working on. Then he had went to order their drinks. Joyce was trying to flip to the next handout when she accidentally brought up a Yoogle search for CFNM. It was not a term with which she was familiar. Thinking it was related to graphic design she had clicked on a link.

What came up shocked her. CFNM actually was an acronym for Clothed Female/Naked Male. She discovered that it was a fetish within the femdom or female dominant sexual culture. By the time that Blair returned with their iced lattes, she needed cooling off. He noticed her blush and was embarrassed to have her discover his secret. She had mumbled something about ' to each his own,' as they returned to their work.

Over the next couple of weeks, Joyce found herself Yoogling the term more than once. She discovered not only some amazing stories about it, but a few porn videos as well. It was something that appealed to her on so many different levels. The idea that she could engage is great sex without having to take off any clothes was liberating.

So too was the idea of being dominant. It was not something she had ever considered before. When she came to Los Angeles, she had quickly lost her small town prudishness. Her sex life before the ex-husbeast had been great, well their first few years before the boys came long were not so bad. When they had dabbled in the BDSM thing she had been as a sub or submissive. Joyce was not that same young woman though. She had fifteen years of emotional abuse from her husband, the lost dream of making it in Hollywood and a ton of anger to work off. The idea of a willing lover who took that anger was appealing as well. 

The problem in her mind had become how to meet such a person. Until the morning when she received the email from Blair thanking her for all her help, telling her how well received the changes had been with his new class. As much as Joyce hated clichés, it had been like a light bulb going off. She had learned about CFNM from Blair, so obviously he was at least curious about it. She had immediately replied. Telling him how glad she was that she could be of assistance, she asked if they could meet again that she wanted to talk to him about a story she was working on and needed his thoughts.

Their meeting was enlightening. After they overcame the initial discomfort of such an intimate subject, Blair had opened up. He was in fact a twenty-five year old virgin, who fantasized about CFNM almost constantly. He even sheepishly admitted that he preferred older women, MILFs as he called them. Joyce had smiled at the admission, although she kept up the pretense that it was all research for one of her 'Mommy porn' books. She thanked him politely for his time and honesty. She also asked if he would mind proof reading what she wrote, an expert opinion of sorts. He agreed with a deep red blush staining his tanned cheeks.

The next two weeks were fun as Joyce sent him almost daily emails. Sexual fantasies that were thinly veiled references to the two of them. Blair had responded to the first few very professionally, making salient comments on how the young man in the story would act or feel. 

But then like a dam giving way under the pressure of flood waters, it had all been swept away. The email he had sent last week opened simply, "Thanks for the best jerk session of my life. Your story is amazing." It had been the opening Joyce had been looking for. She responded that the next time he wanted to jerk off to one of her stories the least he could do was email a picture of it. 

Dozens of increasingly naughty emails had danced across cyber space this week as they teased one another. Including that picture of Blair jerking off just as Joyce had requested. In fact, she had tested the waters of his obedience by demanding a video. He had complied. Knowing that her sons were scheduled to visit their father this weekend, Joyce had suggested that they do a bit of 'hands on' research this weekend. 

Reaching into the closet she drew forth the Freddy's bag that contained the outfit that she had picked out specifically for tonight. She supposed that she should wait until after Jason picked up the boys before she got dressed in it. Taking it out of the bag, she held the black leather and lace bustier up. It had garters hanging down. Inside the bag were the black fish net stocking and matching leather skirt. She had foregone the thigh high boots thinking them a bit over the top, but she owned a slightly shorter version that would do. 

The other purchases in the bag were for Blair though. A whip and rather sterile looking contraption that the sales clerk assured her was the latest in chastity devices. A demonic smile played at her pink lips. She knew who she wished she could lock up in the damned thing...and it was not Blair. 

But that got her thinking. Who said she had to wait to get dressed? With the sheer red blouse in her closet, the outfit was perfectly respectable. Well, maybe not respectable. But it was something that she would wear out with friends. 

Checking in quickly to make certain that her sons were packed and ready, she began to get ready herself. The blow dryer whizzed as her long blond hair took shape. She took care with her make-up before squeezing her breasts into the bustier. Their golden globes rose high above the black leather cups, which barely covered her areolas. 

She pulled up the stockings, fastening them. Then she pulled up the tight leather skirt, zipping it on the side, before pulling on the red blouse. She left it open, hanging about her, free flowing like her attitude this night. She finished off by zipping up her leather boots.

Standing in front of the mirror, she smiled at the woman that she saw there. She looked as confident as Joyce felt at that moment. "Screw you, Jason." Smoothing down the skirt, she reached in her jewelry box for the diamond pendent that he had given her for their last anniversary. It hung perfectly between her breasts, accenting them. "You aren't the only one that can get a twenty something blond bamboo anymore." 

The door bell rang just as she was admiring herself in the mirror. Her oldest son yelled that he would get it, but stepping into the hall Joyce told him to check on his brother and grab his bags. He rolled his eyes as she told him she would get it herself.

Walking down the stairs, she threw open the door with a snarky grin. "Glad you could make it after all, Jason. Give my apologies to the bamboo." Her smile broadened as she noted the look of shock on Jason's face. 

"You're looking..." his voice trailed off as he sought the right word.

"Amazing. Hot. Fuckable." She supplied a list. "And you, Jason, are looking like a fool."

They did not have time to continue their conversation as their sons came barreling into the foray. The next couple of minutes were a buzz as their sons chatted incessantly about the weekend, the game, their school and anything else they could think of. Jason suggested that they get into his convertible while he and their mom had a word, which elicited another eye rolling moment from their son, but he ushered his brother out to the car anyway.

"Joyce, if you care to join us for the game tomorrow, I have an extra ticket," he offered with a smile.

"I was serious earlier. I have other plans, Jason. So enjoy your time with the boys. I'll see you back Sunday at seven." Her hands on the door to close it, she added, "Oh, and don't bring them back early this time, this weekend is not PG rated." She slammed the door shut before he could comment.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Joyce felt playful as she entered her bedroom. So far this weekend was more than she could have hoped for. But she noted that it was almost a half an hour before Blair would arrive. And she needed relief before that.

Reaching into the drawer, she pulled out her favorite vibrator. It was eight inches long, encased in neon pink rubber and had a little nub that worked her clitoris as she plunged it inside her throbbing cunt. And to make it even better, it had little beads that spun inside the shaft, rubbing against all the right places. 

It had gotten a lot of use in its lifetime, but unlike men, it never let her down. She loved the damned thing, she thought as she brought it to her full red lips and kissed the head. Even though she kept it meticulously clean, she could smell the slight hint of pussy, her pussy. "And you don't even require me to suck you to get you hard first," she teased the inanimate object.

She sighed happily as she lay back on the fresh red sheets and spread her thighs. She reached inside each cup of the bustier and pulled out her tits. Her manicured nails pinched and pulled at the nipples until they stood erect, until she was whimpering and moaning, until her pussy was wet and begging for its turn to be touched.

Only then did she slid her right hand slowly down the cool leather of her outfit, down to the edge of the skirt. She pushed it higher upon her thighs. Her pussy was bare and open, no panties, not even a thong. Her fingers danced across her mound, rubbed lightly across her clitoris as she reached for the dildo. Her sighs turned to moans as she slide it deep inside her wet hole. 

Behind her closed eyes danced images, erotic images, of her taking back her life, her sexuality. Of being served and serviced by her young boy toy. Would she make him lick her pussy for hours until his tongue grew tired, dry and numb? Or maybe massage her feet, they did ache from these ridiculously high heels? Or perhaps he should only be allowed to watch from a chair across the room as she did this? As she brought herself to a powerful orgasm. His own little cock straining helplessly in the chastity device. 

"Yes," she cried out. "Yes," that was it. She could feel her orgasm building the dildo touched bottom in her depths, the nub buzzing happily against her clit. She plunged it in and out for several minutes as she thought about him watching her pleasure herself but unable to do the same. 

Joyce gave herself several orgasms until her legs fell open completely, limp from the exertion. Her breathing was ragged and her heart pounded so loudly that it echoed around the room.

"Damn, if nothing else happens this weekend, that was the best fucking orgasm I have had in years," she smiled as she turned down the vibrator, but left it buzzing on the lowest setting inside her cunt. She thought of the Woody Allen quote, "Don't knock masturbation - it's sex with someone I love."



Divorce Can Be Good for You



CHAPTER 1

Nigel Summers hurt. Finding out your choice of woman doesn't love you anymore -- if she ever did -- hurts. Being divorced by her hurts. He fucking hurt all over. He'd lost his job -- he'd become too sad-faced and was depressing his team said the boss when firing him.

Surprisingly Nigel didn't have time to brood or run in front of an eighteen-wheeler. The boss of a rival firm Sunrise Management called and said he heard Nigel had been fired. They had become acquainted attending regional meetings and national conventions.

"Want a job?"

"Yeah."

"A little more enthusiasm would be appreciated."

"Oh sorry. Yes Cliff, I need money."

Cliff who'd been divorced three times said, "You've going through post- divorce depression. Find some chick and fuck her ass off and your sense of manliness will come rushing back."

"Are you thinking of your sour-puss daughter?"

"You lay one finger on her Nigel, and you're dead."

Nigel laughed...for the first time for a very long time he laughed and Cliff said he was pleased he'd got Nigel's motor going.

The pay and conditions were an improvement on Nigel's last job with Allied Management Services, where he'd supervised twenty people providing management services to small companies. This time he had a team of thirty-three people. 

As Cliff would have expected Nigel to do he wrote to all eight-four of clients his previous team was servicing to thank them for the relationship he'd enjoyed establishing with them and gave the name of his new firm. At no stage in that letter did his solicit business and thereby face possible legal repercussions. All the same, twelve of those clients advised Nigel's former employer they were switching to Nigel's new employer. Cliff handed him a $10,000 bonus and said, "Now get supervising my friend; I regard you as a prime employee."

Cliff looked at some hookers, thinking of what Cliff had said about fucking himself out of depression, but he was nervous about their level of hygiene and them thinking about money instead of concentrating on the job in hand (or mouth).

He was in the supermarket when a big fat bitch rammed his trolley and snarled get out of the way of a lady. Nigel was too astounded to bad-mouth her. Still in the same aisle another woman locked trolleys with him. Fury leapt to control him. He opened his mouth but she got in first. 

"Oh excuse me. My bad driving. I was looking for mouth wash."

Cliff said, "It's okay. Here let me get this sorted."

There was nothing to untangle of course because the trolleys were designed to be collusion tangle-proof. He made a bit of a show of pulling them apart and Mrs Shopper said, "Oh, you look very strong."

"Gym and running," he said modestly. "Coffee?"

He had no idea why he said coffee.

"Well I was going to have one."

Have one what?

"Come on," she smiled and walked to the side of the supermarket that opened into a coffee shop that Cliff couldn't remember ever seeing before. Perhaps he was dreaming.

Mrs Shopper -- she was married, he'd seen the rings -- was reasonably attractive, a little too thin for his tastes but she appeared to bubble. He liked women showing personality.

They parked their trolleys.

"I'm Shona."

"Oh hi Shona, I'm Nigel."

She chose coffee and a cream cake and he coffee and a piece of fruitcake.

They sat and she said, "This is very nice."

He didn't even nod.

"Are you attempting to pick me up?"

He didn't know what to say so nodded.

"Oh god."

Nigel felt concern so asked, "What?"

"I thought it would never happen to me. I think these things you see. I thought the prerequisite was a big bust and strong-looking hips?"

"Women who look more petite are very okay."

"Oh really?" 

Shona followed Nigel home. As he unlocked the door and she went in she said, "I enjoy fucking."

Well, Nigel thought, it that didn't lift his depression what would?

Shona did an almost passable strip for him while he unbuckled. She then filled her mouth with him and they were underway. He lifted her on to the table, she still wiping her mouth, and they both watched his long thin cock enter her until his balls squeezed against her, under her pussy.

"Oh my goodness, that was so erotic," she said. "My husband and I only do it on our bouncy bed."

That comment increased Nigel's length slightly and then watching her tits, found quite unexpectedly that small tits bounced. That little erotic discovery hardened him to absolute maximum.

"This is lovely," Shona puffed. "Much better than I usually get at home."

He later carried her to the sofa where she hunched up on to her knees and he gave it to her doggy. Tired, he then lay on the sofa and she rode him cowgirl, doing a great job and to his surprise got him away one more time.

Nigel ran a bath for her and then made lunch.

As she was leaving Shona said, "Goodbye Nigel. We won't do this again. I just had to try adultery. I'll remember this as one of the greatest days in my adult life."

"You're a lovely woman Shona and worked your heart out. Thank you. I too have had a great day."

And then she was gone. Nigel thought he was too tired to feel depressed. It had been his best Saturday in years. Well, he thought, if a brief relationship like that can be that great, divorce might be good for you.

The next morning he took a call.

"Hi, it's Debra"

"Hello Debra," he said cautiously. "Do I know you?"

"You know of me."

"Well that's fine. How may I help you?"

"Dad said you were interested in me."

Nigel's mind clicked over.

"Are you Cliff Nixon's daughter?"

"Yes."

"Why would Cliff have told you that?"

She laughed and said, "You described me as a sour-puss. He knows no-one else who'd have the guts to say that to him and thinks you are the stimulus I need."

Nigel said Cliff had identified him as suffering post-divorce depression.

Debra said in her father's experience that would pass. "I'm allowed to take out the launch today if you know about boats. He understands you do."

"Yeah, I ran a 31-foot cruiser but had to sell it along with other assets as part of the divorce settlement but I got to keep the house."

"That's why divorces are bad for you; I keep telling dad that. I'm the product of his first marriage."

"Well tell me about the boat."

"A 48ft aft-cabin motor yacht with twin diesels and set up for laid-back cruising."

"A mate has something similar and my non-boating ex and I went away on a couple of vacations alone and being cooped up together like that is probably what started the divorce."

"I love boats."

Nigel said sourly, "And I'm suppose to like you because you do?"

"Go to hell."

"Wait! Give me some rope. You know I'm still bitter."

"Very well. Meet me down a berth X38 at Westgate Marina at 10:30. Just bring sunnies, a jacket and your nicest disposition."

"I think I can managed that. Are you sure this is okay with your dad?" 

"Just a moment."

Nigel heard Debra say to someone in the background, "He had a 31-footer and took a pal's 48-footer away on a vacation. Are you happy about that?"

"Yeah. Take my card to refuel when you return and check the water tank."

That clearly was Cliff's voice. 

"Take condoms dear," called a feminine voice. 

What the hell?

Debra returned to talk to Nigel. "Yes, dad's happy. Don't be late."

Some distance off Nigel spotted her on the deck. She ignored his approach, pulling on a shirt to cover her top but he saw enough to know she was well packaged. The legs below her bikini bottom looked good enough to drool over.

"Hi Miss Nixon." He thought she needed winding up.

"Debra thank you. What's the heavy stuff in your bag?"

"Vodka and martini mix."

"Step aboard sailor," she smiled. "You look better than I expected. I've only seen you in the distance when I come down occasionally to your floor."

"Does this mean I'm in line for promotion already?"

She didn't answer so that told him what this was about. Cliff wanted it to happen but she was not sure and wanted to check him out.

Fuck her; no way was he going to step back. "If you think I'm going to pee in your pants and do other groveling to get a desk on the executive floor you are wasting your time."

She said nothing but her face burned.

"Or is it you want to cut my dick off for dare to call you sour-puss? I've glimpsed you with Cliff around town."

"Did it occur to you I just wanted a day out on the water, that my step-mom has bullied dad to help weed her garden and I could find no one else available at such sort notice to crew, so dad suggested you?"

"Oh sure, that's very plausible. I'll buy it just to make you happy. Why haven't you got the engines warming up?"

"I was leaving that to you." Then she colored and said no that was a lie. She'd forgotten to do that. "That's why dad insists I always have someone knowledgeable to go out with me.

"Your write a checklist to your mind and before you know it, it becomes second nature."

"What?"

"Do you cook?"

"Of course I do." 

"Do you cook from recipe books?"

"Rarely."

"Why not"

"Because..." She stopped and said oh very clever. "I cook without looking at books because I have written as you call it the steps to memory."

"You know, with you saying that with grace, we may surprise ourselves by finding we are compatible."

"I'm not having you as chief operations manager unless you are."

She colored and swore.

"That's unladylike. I led you into making that admission. Could we leave office politics aside and just have a great time out on the water. Do you fuck?"

Debra's eyes narrowed. "You are setting out to make me dislike you. Why?"

"The truth is I'm hoping your are into casual fucking and you are a sour-puss because nothing much it going right for you. I thought I could provoke you into properly firing your boilers because unless that happens nothing much will change for you."

"Dad said you'd provoke me."

"Your father only looks stupid Debra."

She looked ready to swing one on him but then her shoulders relaxed and she smiled.

Nigel said, "Go start the engines Debra while I'll go into the saloon and mix us a drink."

"Aye, aye captain."

Nigel looked around and in the aft stateroom smiled, noting a 6-pack of condoms along with hairbrush and comb and her makeup kit beside her open handbag. He made the martinis and took them up to the front enclosed fly bridge.

"Thanks, do you want to take her out?"

"No, every time you do it is practice. Just slow everything down to give yourself time to think beyond what is happening."

"My father says exactly that."

"As did my father to me."

Debra looked at him unflinchingly. "You appear to be a prick, but underneath might be okay."

Nigel kept his face straight and leaving his drink unfinished in the holder said he'd go down and cast off, leaving the bow line intact awaiting her instruction.

* * *

Debra Nixon was thirty-one and behind her were two broken engagements because the males had turned out to be treacherously unfaithful. As with Nigel, she had a master's degree in business administration. She was aware he was thirty-three. Her father had agreed to promote Owen Fordyce to replace the retiring chief operations officer but then her father had hired Nigel and then three weeks later, when they were due to offer Owen the promotion, her father had started talking about preferring Nigel. She'd told him that as CEO it was her decision but her father had said oh yeah, she'd better re-read her contact that stated all senior appointments required the approval of the executive-chairman.

She'd sworn at him and her father just laughed and that is when he said Nigel had called her a sour puss. It took her father some time to calm her down. She'd enquired amongst people she knew well in Nigel's department to build up evidence to show her father was backing the wrong horse but the feedback was surprisingly in Mr Smart Ass's favor. On another tack, when enquiring with the director of finance she sent Debra figures indicating the earnings in billings per person had begun an upward curve in that department. She looked as his CV and his degree was arguably of higher quality than hers and his performance at university outmatched hers.

On Saturday night when visiting her parents for dinner, Debra talked to her father about the vacancy and said she was prepared to accept Nigel if she thought he and she could be compatible.

He'd said did she mean emotionally or professionally. She'd colored and said emotionally because it appeared he was very competitive and she didn't want to risk being engaged in never-ending conflict.

"Why don't you take him out on Ocean Spree; she's free tomorrow because your step-mom has me on gardening detail. There's no better place to find out things about a person when out cruising without other distractions."

She'd agreed with that and so had called Nigel to see if her was available to cruise with her. 

Now Debra had the shocking thought, remembering she'd left things out of her handbag on the bed beside it. What if he'd gone into the master stateroom and seen them?

"Could you take the helm please? I need to go, um, to the bathroom."

"Sure, what heading?"

"Um, just sail our present course and keep clear of other craft."

She went into the aft stateroom and cringed. Even from the doorway she could see the familiar shape of a pack of condoms. She went into the bathroom and peed in shame. God, what would he think of Miss Whore?

She went up to the fly bridge.

"Um, can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he said, scanning on both sides and straight ahead, as a good helmsman should do.

"D-d-did you g-go into the m-main stateroom."

His reply blew her away. "Would you prefer me to lie or to tell the truth?"

She swallowed. "Would you like another drink?"

"Yes please, coffee."

She scuttled away.

In the galley she thought god the guy was good. He's answered and she didn't have an answer to his counter-question. At first she though of course he'd been in the cabin and seen the condoms and just as she was nodding acceptance of that she thought, what if he wondered what the hell was she talking about?

Debra clutched the sides of her head and groaned, She then recalled her father saying when out cruising with some one without other distractions there's not better way of finding out about a person.

Well?

She didn't know. Perhaps some men seeing the condoms would have bared their teeth under such questioning and have said something like, "Am I about to get lucky?"

She groaned and then thought perhaps he didn't know anything about condoms. Well that was straining credibility wasn't it?

She then had an even worse thought: He was demonstrating his superiority over her.

With a heavy heart she went up to the fly bridge.

He smiled at her and she felt cobwebs falling away.

"There's a bay up ahead. So you want to anchor and we can swim or fuck or even talk about you promoting me?"

Had he said fuck? She opened her mouth and bleated, 'Yes, let's anchor and talk about your future."

"Why are you denying me your cunt?"

Debra was certain her hearing hadn't malfunctioned but no way would she ask what had he just said.

"Here -- give me my coffee and take the helm."

She obeyed.

"You have great tits and a great ass Debra."

Her mouth went dry but she managed, "Thank you Nigel."

"I like fucking; do you?"

How the hell could she answer that?

Nigel put down his coffee cup and moved in behind her. With incredible ease he pressed against her, his hand shot down under the bottom of her shirt, into her bikini bottom and a finger went into her wetness. "Oooh, you're more that ready."

"P-please. Let's anchor."

"Oh sure, we don't want to run a $300,000 boat aground while you're fucking me legless."

"N-Nigel. Please take over," she whispered, as she convulsed and creamed his hand, unable to believed she'd just done that. Normally she'd whack herself a good ten minutes with a vibrator to get that result.

Four minutes later he dropped anchor and backed off at just over idling speed until confident sufficient chain was out and the anchor was set. He shut down everything and turned to Debra. She was on the wrap-around lounge seat and stroking a bared tit.

Nigel felt he was responsible for her condition and that she might be distressed about it.

"Er, can I be of assistance?"

Debra raised her arms for him and groaned.

He allowed her to wrap her arms around him and he said, "I don't wish to take unfair advantage of you."

"Just fuck me you idiot," she groaned.

Nigel fumbled with her shirt buttons. She sighed and pulled her unbuttoned shirt over her head. He pushed her bikini top under the mass and started licking flesh and nipple. She groaned and pushed his head in hard so he bit a nipple, quite hard and she groaned, "Yes, yes" and fumbled beneath him to undo the sides of her bikini bottom and that was tossed on the deck.

He smelt pussy.

"I smell aroused pussy."

She giggled and told him to bury his head in it.

Well the undressing, mutual maneuvering and encouragement continued until at last he sank seven inches of throbbing cock into her. They both groaned.

"Are you protected?"

"Yes," she groaned and ask was he clean. He said he was sure as he could be and at that she began thrusting against him.

She was a good fuck... expressive without screaming, actively pushing back and squeezed his balls when she wanted him to come.

Debra stood up afterwards, cum and her juices running down her thighs and said, "You asshole, you took advantage of me."

"Twice I asked if you were sure you wanted it."

"I was emotionally over-charged." 

"That's how most women want to be when fucked, especially with a new guy."

"Well I didn't."

"That's bullshit Debra and you know it. Go down and have a shower and a nap. I'll get us home."

When Nigel docked he checked the stateroom and she was still asleep. He made everything shipshape and wrote her a note. 'I had a lovely day. Thank you except for the time at the end when you turned on me. Fuck the promotion. I could never work with a bitch. I'll lock the rear door and push the key through the ventilator screen just above it. The key should land on the floor.'

Early on Monday morning Nigel was called to the executive chairman's office.

"What have to say for yourself?"

"Nothing except to say your boat is in good nick, well maintained."

"Debra said your sexual attention to her was unwelcome."

"Did you question her closely?"

"No but I'm interested in what you have to say."

"I have nothing to say."

"I could fire you."

"That's your prerogative.

"Damn you Nigel, you are making it so difficult to me. You show no guilt, you provide no defense. Whom am I believe?"

"Your daughter expects your loyalty. May I go now?"

"Yes, back to your office. No way am I firing you."

"Thank you sir?"

"Thank you sir? What's happened to you calling me Cliff?"

"I'm uncertain that I have your trust sir."

Cliff bellowed, "Get the fuck out of my office. I know what this is about. My daughter can't handle you."

Well you have to be up very early in the morning to catch Nigel Summers out, Nigel thought, winking at the executive-chairman's startled PA who must have heard the boss shouting. 

Nigel went to his office, scribbled out his resignation and went to HR and left it with the receptionist. He then went home, packed and within the hour was driving off to stay with his mother's baby sister Milly and husband Uncle Robert.

Aunt Milly, only seven years his senior, had practically no tits so passed almost unnoticed by her nephew when they were together at family functions. He drove the 280 miles to their home and she was delighted to see him.

"You'll stay won't you -- please say please?"




Divorce Can Be Good for You



"Okay, where's Uncle Rob."

"In Europe -- he's been gone three and a half weeks with another two and a half weeks to go."

"Er, perhaps I should stay at a hotel?"

"Why? You never look at me. What have I to fear?"

Nigel said, scratching his butt, "Uncle Rob has been away three and a half weeks you say. You may be getting horny."

"Me horny -- what's that?"

That convinced him it was safe to stay. Messing with Aunt Milly... his mother would kill him!

During dinner and clearing away afterwards they acted like they always had, friendly with Aunt Milly doing most of the talking. She prepared to go to bed early and he thought he would as well. She kissed him goodnight and said it was wonderful having his company. Nigel was put at ease even more, decided the kiss had been so light he'd almost described it as fragile.

In bed, holding on to his rising dick for comfort, he switched off his light and lay back to think of the mess his life was in, just as he'd thought it had been coming right.

"Nigel?" came the whisper.

"Yes?" he croaked.

Aunt Milly turned on the light and padded over to him. Her hand snaked under the light bed cover and encircled his erection... his hand and the free one had shot rapidly to rest behind his head to masquerade with the innocence of a monk.

"Oh good," she said, licking her lips lasciviously. She smiled at him and the smile disappeared as she stood back to pull her nightdress over her head. The nipples on the tiny tits were big, her reddish bush was left to go wild and her smile was huge.

"I'm so happy you've come here Nigel."

Nigel's heart lifted: someone wanted him. So when she climbed up and straddled him he guided in the seven inches she hungered for, a smile coming to his face although he saw no personal enjoyment in this for himself.

Then he thought hello -- when getting your rocks off didn't bring joy?

Aunt Milly puffed away and threw her head back when her nephew begin to participate and reached up to tweak both nipples. That contact made him thicken and she groaned and that encouraged him to buck. She leaned on to him and rammed her tongue into his mouth. Aunt Milly knew to do that?

Now Nigel groaned.

She moaned and said she was coming and squeezed her knees against him and Nigel shot more than a goodly amount into her, gasping and believing his face had turned purple.

She staggered out of bed and leaning over him said. "Thank you darling boy" and kissed him, her mouth was so slack it was like being kissed by an oversize tit.

"Go and have a pee and come back and I'll hug you through the night."

The joy on her face satisfied him hugely. Nigel was aware his depression was dissipating and that sent a surge of blood to his dick. As Aunt Milly back into against him in the dark and felt it she said happily, "Are we ready to go again?"

They fucked twice more after dawn and rising late Nigel smacked her ass and yawned, saying he could eat a horse.

"We can walk down to the diner...but I'll only want coffee and a piece of toast," she said. But hit by the fresh air and keeping up with the faster pace of her nephew Aunt Milly ended up having ham and eggs, two pieces of toast and coffee and a refill, quite astonishing herself.

"I feel rejuvenated."

Carving his way through a steak, Nigel said, "What you want to do is to divorce Uncle Robert and find yourself a toy boy. You fuck really well."

Aunt Milly turned beetroot when the waitress, around her age and arriving with the coffee pot, said to Nigel, "What a lovely thing to say to an older woman."

A day later Aunt Milly announced she couldn't stand the pace so they reduced to sex once a night and once some mornings. Nigel had already been shifted to her bed. They went out every day to lunch and out again for dinner, often after going to a movie. They went to the city art gallery and the museum, where Aunt Milly had never visited, and went for drives away from the city.

When Nigel left for home after a week, Aunt Milly hugged him, cried a little, and said although she'd been living at home she fancied it had been like being on a wonderful vacation with an illicit lover. "Thank you, thank you Nigel, you wonderful young man."

"It's been good for me too Aunt Milly and I truly mean that. Please don't kill Uncle Robert with your rejuvenated sexual demands."

She laughed and kissed him modestly, just like any aunt would do to a departing favorite nephew. Her son was at boarding school and her daughter was a freshman at college.

Cruising along at a comfortable speed Nigel accepted it had been good messing around with Aunt Milly. She'd needed company and being needed had helped him. It was as if she'd helped to fine tune his emotions, getting them assembly in correct order again. It was as if a page in his life had turned.

CHAPTER 2

Just as Nigel was turning into his driveway he spotted Mrs Williams from across the road waving.

"I collected your mail from you," she said. "I'll pop over with it."

He waved and garaged the car. It had been a mistake keeping the house -- it had too many memories with his ex wife.

"Here you are love," Mrs Williams puffed. "Mainly commercial circulars I'm afraid."

"I really don't need a mailbox." 

She laughed and he said, "Are you still selling real estate?"

"Yes."

"Well would you like to see this house for me? I own it outright."

"Yes of course. I'll give you a call Monday about the appraisal. We can fix a time."

"Any time Monday would do, but phone first."

"I really appreciate this opportunity, thank you Nigel."

She walked away and Nigel scratched the back of his head. Did he really want to leave here? Of course he did! "You are the new Nigel -- don't falter now that you have found yourself again."

Eh?

He grinned and went to the study and checked the calls on his cell phone that he'd left behind. There were fifteen calls over five days -- all from Debra Nixon. And then nothing. He grinned, the bitch was desperate to say sorry, calling three times a day, hoping to avoid being kicked in the butt by her father who'd snarled -- "Get him back or else!"

Just on dark the front door bell went. Ah, it would be Debra. She'd cry and plead and they'd end up fucking... er, he and Aunt Milly had hit it hard again last night, their last night together, and really he was feeling less than keen. 

Nigel opened the door. Cliff Nixon thrust a bottle of whisky at him and he brushed by and said, "Let's have a drink. I could have been more diplomatic when we last talked. I'm sorry. I knew I should have been more sensitive, knowing you felt kicked in the ass by the divorce and then kicked again with Debra throwing an emotional wobbly at you."

"It's okay. I think all that shook the cobwebs and now a week away has cleaned my mind. I honestly think my life has turned to a new page."

Cliff said he hoped it had. "Um glasses and ice -- water if you need it."

"Oh yeah. So you put Debra to work to find me and she failed and now you attempted to do it for her."

"What are you talking about? Debra and I have scarcely spoken about you. When I told her you had resigned she shrieked and screamed as you expect women to do and then sent for Owen Fordyce with my consent and after taking to him we jointly announced him as the incoming COO."

"Then what about all these calls she's made to me?"

"What calls?"

"Fifteen calls over five days."

Cliff said he knew nothing about that. She was going around like a sick calf all week, bawling out people and crashed her car and had gotten offside with her mother.

"Bad time of the month?"

They laughed.

"You could say that," Cliff said. "Her mother thinks Debra has found someone good enough to care about but too late."

"Have you struck you head on something?"

"God you know how to give lip. Listen, I'm staying right out of this. I've just called here the last three nights hoping to find you to say sorry and to ask for your advice."

Nigel grinned. "Cliff Nixon wants advice from me? You have hit your head."

"Listen to this asshole. We now have taken twenty-one clients off Allied Management Services and have had job applications from eleven of their field consultants."

"Jesus."

"What do you make of that?"

Nigel didn't hesitate. "Other clients that originally screwed up my letter have heard about the drift across, and are now joining it. As Allied looses clients it is terminating the contracts of its field consultants handing those clients."

Cliff nodded. "Exactly."

"Your business is ticking over, your daughter if proving more competent that you expected and you're bored. So you want me to kick-start you. Okay you pay me ten grand to work by day and half the nights preparing a takeover plan and an integration plan to present to your bank showing how your company can succeed in running an enlarged business if given loan money to present Allied an offer it can't refuse. Your payment includes me accompanying you for talks with your bank and then, should that succeed, to sit down with you and your team to negotiate with the Allied team."

"What about price?"

"You get that for us. Tomorrow you invite Cyril Banks of Allied to lunch and ask him if he's interested in selling. I can get update info on his current financials from an insider sympathizer and from that we'll see just how much Cyril has added for goodwill. Then we make our calculations, knowing that his goodwill is deflating but that he can't yet accept that."

"So, how long will this take?"

"Make an appointment for us to meet bank officials on Monday week. Have you done anything about accommodating all those extra people?"

"Yes, I spoke to my landlord this morning. He has another building three months away from completion. They are about to start leasing space so I said I could take the lot or almost all of it provided he didn't penalize me for canceling my current contact."

"How could he refuse that reasonable request?"

"That almost the exact words he used."

"Good. Well Cliff. I'll start working on this in the morning so this is enough whisky for me. Brief your finance director to give me any info I request. I also need to be back onside with your daughter. Please request her to invite me to dinner tomorrow night."

"She won't do that."

"Debra wants to apologize."

"Oh yeah," Cliff smiled.

"Um for extra bait just mention your takeover proposal and say I'll brief her fully tomorrow night."

"Yeah, that's the carrot I need. It means I won't get my head bitten off."

"Fucking women can be so cruel when they get over-emotional."

Cliff snorted and said, "You can say that again."

"Fucking women can be so cruel..."

Cliff slapped Nigel on the back and they laughed like good buddies.

Next morning Debra's PA passed on the dinner invitation to Nigel and gave the address of Debra's apartment. 

* * *

Debra was dressed as if going to the opera; she was in full regalia. She'd opened the door and neither of them had yet said anything. They just stood still, staring. Tension was building. Nigel fancied he knew how to break the impasse without either of them bleeding.

"Kiss me and say you're sorry and allow me to hug you."

For a few seconds he thought he'd screwed up but then again she might be fighting herself.

Debra suddenly whimpered, launched himself at him screaming she was so sorry and they locked into a kiss and he threw his arms around her and she went "Hmmmmmm."

Game over.

Debra led Nigel into the room smiling and saying she couldn't believe she's miss a person so much in just a week's separation... "Not even my father."

"Well your father doesn't fuck you, at least I hope not."

A horrified look gripped Debra until he hastily smiled and said easily, "Just joking."

"Christ Nigel, go easy with me on that kind of joke."

Actually it seemed to relax her.

"Have you been staying at hotels and fucking the barmaids working the late shift?"

Nigel said as if stunned, "You've made a joke."

She looked at him seriously and said, "No, that was conversation."

Not knowing how to reply Nigel simply said (carefully), "I stayed at my aunt and uncle's home in Stillwater."

"Weren't they there?"

"Yes," he lied or was that only a half lie? Not that it mattered because she asked, "Enjoy yourself?"

"If was a big of a grind -- all activity but I feel I've come home feeling more like my old self."

"Dad said you described it as feeling a new page had opened for you."

"Yes, that's how it feels."

"Depression is so difficult to manage, even with best medical treatment."

"I thought fucking you helped me."

"You did? Oh god and then I treated you like that, acting like a crazy woman because I'd figured it would take at least four dates before you considered me worthy of seducing, that you'd have to get your mind right first."

"I thought all women knew what men were like."

"Well I don't about that. And I am rather protective about who gets to have a piece of me so it all just seem to come to a head for me emotionally on the boat, beginning with you having a finger into me so easily at unbelievable speed. I-I was just not ready for it."

"So I was to blame."

"Oh Nigel, I'm sorry. I didn't want to make it sound that way. Could you please just accept that I was tentatively aligning up with you and you swept me off my feet and I became emotionally over-charged."

"Sure, I find that acceptable and you've apologized and it's all behind us and no hard feelings. Just let me know when you are ready to fuck me again."

"Oh Nigel, I've been telling you I'm one of those women who needs the softly, softly approach."

"I understand. Just tell me when you want a piece of me again."

Debra sighed. "Dad's told me he's thinking about a takeover and that you'll fill me in...er... you'll elaborate."

Nigel grinned and the nature of his grin colored her cheeks.

"I'll get drinks and we'll sit and you can spell it all out. I understand he's engaged you to be planner/facilitator."

"Yeah, if that's okay with you?"

"God yes, business politics is not my forte. I just enjoy managing a smooth-running show."

"Then I'll have to be kept on to manage the integration?"

"May I just say I've spoken to dad about that?"

Later as Nigel stood at the door ready to leave, Debra, weaving a bit, smooched him and whispered, "I won't object if you decide to stay the night."

Nigel patted her ass affectionately and he said some other time when he felt she truly was ready.

* * *

Twelve weeks later the takeover was completed with those in the two workforces chosen to stay on integrated in the one building. Everything ticking over reasonably well, although it would be months before people would be ticking over smoothly because in a takeover that's how people react.

Debra was fucking the ass off Nigel by then, although Nigel had to admit he could have been confused about that. He only had to blow into her right ear and she'd roll over for him, legs apart. It even worked in a movie theater the once he'd tried it and that had been embarrassing because they'd been thrown out. He was under the impression she loved him because she kept telling him that. As far as he was concerned he paced around the apartment they were leasing whenever she wasn't at home.

Debra and he were ready to have a quiet wedding as soon as his marriage was dissolved. According to Debra that time couldn't come fast enough because she wanted the title Mrs Summers.

God, there was no accounting for some women's tastes. But then again perhaps not. He'd thought Debra could have done much better than taking up with him but her mom told him confidentially that Debra simply 'fell to pieces' when Nigel wasn't around. "I think she loves you more than she even loved her dolls, and that saying something."

That sort of talk gets to a guy's ego. It really does. He told Debra that the night her mom had told him that, "I want you to have our baby." Even that was embarrassing. They were in a restaurant and Debra gurgled and rolled over, pulling up her dress for him. They go to that restaurant a lot these days and they have their own table -- in an alcove where other diners can't see them.

Oh,there's been a development. Debra is pregnant and is waiting for the right moment to inform Nigel he's in full working order.

THE END



Divorce Celebrating Party



Many thanks to Dennis for the editing of this story.

*

My pretty common-law wife, Helene, was wearing a sexy dress with a short skirt, which gave a good view of her nice legs. She was standing in the kitchen waiting for a taxi taking her to a "Divorce Celebrating Party" held by a Jenny, one of her best friends. Divorce party sounded as a strange event in our Scandinavian town that is why I asked her, "Why this sexy outfit for that stupid party. Please don't collect any foolish ideas for your own divorce party there." 

Away she went and the next time I saw her was slight after half past two in the morning when she was back. I pretended to sleep and could hear that she after undressing in the bathroom fell down on the bed and was a sleep in a minute. 

I knew that the bar where Jenny held her stupid party always closed at one o'clock, that was why it was obvious Helene had been somewhere else at least for one hour, probably longer if she had left the bar earlier. That got me suspicious. I waited a few minutes to be sure that she was sleeping before I went to the bathroom where her clothes were thrown in a pile. I found her panties, which looked soiled in the crotch. That was why I took them from the pile for further investigation later on. I also noted that there was only one of her expensive eardrops on a shelf. 

During the breakfast Helene looked a little worn out but said she was fine. When I asked her about the party she replied, "Rather boring with not many people at the bar. Short of guys for dancing; I danced only a few times and was home rather early I think".

What a shameless lying bitch. Now I was almost sure that she had fucked somebody during the night and lost her eardrop while fucking. A friend of mine had trapped his cheating wife by finding traces of semen in her panties with the help of a detector kit he had bought from a mail-order company. A phone call to him and his kit was used again after the work. 

As I suspected, we found trace of semen in Helene's panties and she had obviously been fucked during the divorce party.

It was a sad day for me. All my plans for a marriage and a happy future with Helen had to be cancelled. I really hated cheating because of painful experiences in the past. My first wife had an affair with a married fellow worker less than one year after the wedding and our divorce was terrible mess. 

To my great luck I had met Helene, a single mom who had been dumped by her husband of three years. She and her son had moved into my house four years ago and I had been very happy together with her. We had been talking about a wedding, children and adopting her son Oscar. 

Depending on the circumstances my dear Helene now had very limited chances to avoid being dumped. I decided to wait a while to see if she regretted and confessed her cheating with some sane explanation of been drugged and raped.

Of course, she noted that I was in bad mood and tried to cheer me up with sex when we went to the bed at the evening after her party. She got a real surprise when I, for the first time in our relation, refused her sex offer and the same thing happened even the next evening. Helene didn't mention her missing panties but ought to been thinking about some connection about my refusal to have sex with her.

Friday I rang her best friend and fellow worker, Linda. Even she had been at the Divorce Party, so I went straight to the matter asked her whom Helene had fucked after the party during that party night. When she pretended to know nothing I got nasty and told her that she had a simple choice, "Tell me about Helene's cheating or I will tell your husband what you did with a Ronny at the last Christmas party."

After calling me names, Linda told me she only knew it was a blond guy by name Lars, who had eaten lunch together with Helen several times during the last weeks. It was Helene who had suggested he come and sees her at that pub where she had neglected all warnings from the others when leaving the pub with him. 

Linda knew about the missing eardrop and said that Helene, though she got several new warnings from her friends when she had promised to see Lars in his apartment for a couple of hours after work on Friday. Helene had said she had agreed to pay Lars with some sex for getting her expensive eardrop back and Helene wanted some exciting bonus sex with that well equipped Lars.

On Fridays Helene left her job at one o'clock and since I worked to four on Fridays, Helene had some hours free for her planned cheating. But that Friday I got off from the job at noon because I was curious to see what Helene would do. I knew that Friday morning her eardrop was still missing and she would probably go to Lars for some sex and her eardrop just as Linda had told me. 

At one o clock I was watching the parking lot at Helene's job and when she went away I tailed her car. She went straight to a big newly built house with expensive apartments and parked there in the visitors parking. I parked my own car at a back street, used the spare key to Helene's car and drove it home to my driveway. 

Back home I used my cell phone to ring our home phone because I suspected it to be switched over to Helene's cell phone. It was and when Helene took the call, she pretended to be at home cleaning the house. I told her some mumbo jumbo about the reason for my call that I would be delayed one hour at the job.

Once again she had lied to me. 

Twenty minutes later I rang the home phone again and when Helene, after a while, replied with her cell phone, I asked her if she was still at home and she replied, "Yes, of course I am." 

I told her, "Good, Important matters have happened and I'll be at home in three minutes with nice cakes for an important celebration, fix some coffee." 

Then I switched off my cell phone. I was sure Helene felt trapped in her lies and began to suspect that her cheating could have a very high price tag.

Of course, I will never know how she reacted to my call and it must been even worse when she saw that her car was missing. I can only presume it must been close to panic. If she still cared about our relation, she had to understand that her lying about been at home when I called her would be very difficult to explain and that the future would be quite different from what we had planned.

However, just in case she still cared about me and wanted do a desperate try to get me forgive her, I expected her to come home within something between fifteen to thirty minutes. How right I was, about twenty minutes later a black Hyundai Tucson with blond guy and Helene stopped on the street outside my driveway. 

When she saw her car on the driveway, she and the driver screamed a few seconds to each other before Helene opened the passenger side door. That gave me time enough for a rush to the driver side where taking the guy by surprise and since he did not have his seatbelt on, it was easy to drag him out from the car. 

Now with him down on the street I gave him several hard hits in the face and hard kicks on the body and his balls before I threw in him to the back seat. Then I shouted to the now horrified Helene "Take this damn garbage away from here and don't you dare be back here before tomorrow. I'll pick up Oscar at the daycare and take him to your parents." 

I could never understand why Helene, who had envied Jenny so much for her divorce, wasn't happy at all for her own newly gained freedom from me. Though she was free now to do what ever she wanted to do, date and fuck as many different guys as she wanted, she for some reason wasn't happy at all. Instead of having her own celebrating party, her friends told me that Helene cried and sobbed for days.



Divorce Hurts



My wife Jan called my office and told me she wanted to go have drinks and dinner to celebrate our 10th anniversary. I readily agreed, and told her I would meet her at our favorite bar after work. I also told her I would make dinner reservations at one of the upscale restaurants. 

After work, I drove to the bar, noticing that Jan’s car was parked in the lot as I walked in. 

She was seated at the bar with an old friend whom we hadn’t seen in a while. I walked up to the bar and shook hands with Jim, then kissed Jan hello. She returned the kiss by holding me tight, and whispering “Happy Anniversary!”

I asked Jim how he and Carla were doing, and knew right away that something was wrong. Jim proceeded to tell Jan and I that Carla had been acting funny for the past few months, and he had decided to find out what was wrong. 

He then told us that he had followed Carla one night when she went out, and had caught her with some guy in the back seat of their SUV doing the “Big Nasty!” 

Jim said that he didn’t confront them at the time, but decided that he would keep it to himself until the right occasion. Then he said that a few days later, Carla went out one night and he followed. Sure enough, she went to the same place, met the same guy, and ended up in the back seat again!

He said that he decided to confront them this time, so he walked right up to the SUV, knocked on the window, and watched them scramble to cover up. He then snapped a picture of them naked. When he opened the door, he spoke only to Carla, telling her that her belongings would be in the driveway when she got home. She was crying and shaking, and begged him to not leave her. He responded by saying, “I’m not leaving, you are!”

With that, he drove straight home, packed all her stuff, and put it in the driveway. 

My wife Jan is very tender hearted, and I could tell that she was upset by what Jim had told us. We had been friends with Jim and Carla for 8 years, and Jan and Carla had become quite close over the years. Jan said, “I had no idea that she was screwing around! I guess I didn’t know her as well as I thought I did!” 

Jim responded,” I guess I didn’t know her either.”

Jan told him that she was very sorry, and if there was anything we could do to ease the pain, all he had to do was call. 

We continued drinking, and I could tell that Jan was getting a little tipsy. She kept talking about Carla, and as she talked, she was touching Jim on his arm, and on his thigh.

Now let me tell a little about Jan. She is slim, 5’4”, long blonde hair, great tan, 34c tits, firm ass, and great legs. She has never been one to flaunt her charms, but, I had always envisioned her being a walking sex machine, wearing sexy clothes, and showing off her body. Unfortunately, the only time she ever did this was in the summer when she wore her bikini around the pool at home or at the beach. This is as close to showing her assets as she ever got!

As we continued talking, Jim told us that this had been a tremendous shock to him, and that he had never thought that Carla would do something like this to him or their relationship. He told us how lucky we were to have the relationship that we had. 

Jan was getting a little soused, so we decided to go to the house. She asked Jim if he would like to join us and have a nightcap. He declined at first saying that he just wanted to be alone. Jan would have no part of that, and told him to get his shit together and follow us home. He finally agreed and we left the bar. 

On the ride home, Jan was feeling a bit frisky, and started rubbing my cock. She unzipped my pants and released my hard cock, rubbing it up and down, then finally going down on me and sucking like it was the last cock on earth. 

I started to feel the pressure build, and told Jan to quit until later, as we had Jim following us, and we would have to be presentable when we got home. She whined and said, “I want you to come!” I said that we would finish later. 

She sat up and started unbuttoning her dress, exposing her sexy bra. Then she reached around and undid the snap on her bra, slid the straps off her shoulders and pulled the bra off. I wondered where she was going with this, but she just buttoned her dress back up, and got presentable as we pulled in the driveway. 

When we got out of the car, Jan had her bra in her hand, and was twirling it around. Jim saw her doing this and said, “Do you need help putting that back on?”

Jan laughed and said, “I may never put it back on!” 

We walked in the house, and I said that I would make us a nightcap. Jan said, “Why don’t we drink them in the hot tub?” Jim responded by saying that he didn’t bring a suit and Jan told him to just go in his underwear.

When I finished making the drinks, Jan told us that she was going to the bathroom and for us to go ahead and get in the tub. 

We had been in the tub for a couple of minutes when Jan came walking out in her thong bikini. I could tell that Jim liked what he saw, and that Jan was enjoying the attention he was giving her. 

She stepped in the hot tub and I handed her the drink. As she slid down into the hot water, she said, “You guys are topless, so I think I will be too!” 

Then, I knew, Jan was toasted! She would never do anything like that with anyone else present. 

She moved over to me and said, “Untie the straps, I want to feel free!” I obliged, pulling the top above water and tossing it on the deck. 

Jim couldn’t really see her tits, because it was dark and she kept them below water level, but he was sure trying. 

We talked for a few minutes, always going back to Jim’s problems with Carla. Jan was feeling sorry for Jim, and asked him if she could give him a hug to ease the pain. 

Jim readily agreed, and Jan moved over to him, putting both arms around his neck and pulling him close. I knew Jim could feel her tits on his chest, and he looked at me with an embarrassed look on his face. When Jan pulled away from him, he said, “I don’t think I could take another second of that!” 

Jan wanted to know why and Jim told her that he hadn’t had a woman that close in a long time, and he wasn’t sure what might happen if she stayed that close much longer. 

Jan giggled and said, “How long has it been since you saw some boobs?” Jim responded, “It’s been over three months!”

With that, Jan said, “Wanna see mine?” Jim responded that of course he wanted to if it was ok with me! Jan said, “Aww, he won’t mind!”

Granted, I had always wanted her to be sexy around other guys, but in the 10 years that we had been married, she had never even shown the slightest bit of skin when around others. I didn’t think she would do it. Boy, was I wrong!

Jan slowly and seductively rose above the water line, crossing her arms in front of her tits, and moved right in front of Jim. Then she moved her arms slowly to the side, letting her hands cover her tits. Jim was watching with wide eyes, and Jan was enjoying the attention he was giving her. She asked, “You want to see more?” Jim could hardly talk, but managed to nod his head and mumble “Yes!”

Jan then cupped her breasts and started rubbing her nipples between her thumb and forefinger. 

She then asked him if he would like to feel them and he almost jumped at the opportunity. She moved closer and moved her hands so that he could touch. Jan put her hands on Jim’s shoulders, then let them slide down his chest. All the while, Jim is squeezing and rubbing her tits when I noticed that Jan’s hands had slipped below water level and were moving underwater. I assumed that she was rubbing his cock. 

After a minute of this, Jan pulled away and moved back over to where I was, asking if I wanted to play with them too! I immediately cupped her breasts and pulled her up to where I could suck the nipples. I let one hand slide down her stomach and under the thong bottoms, rubbing her clit. 

Jan was getting turned on, and told us that she had to go to the bathroom. After she got out of the tub, and was walking back to the house, she turned and motioned for me to come in the house. I told Jim that I had to mix another drink, and trying to hide my hard-on, got out of the hot tub and went to the house. 

Inside, Jan was waiting, and as soon as I got in the door, she almost attacked me. She told me that she was really turned on, and needed relief. I said, “That will have to wait until our friend leaves because it wouldn’t be fair to him since he hadn’t had any in several months, unless you want to give him some too!” 

She said, “I will play with him until he comes, but I won’t fuck him!” I told her that she could do whatever she wanted.

I mixed the drinks and went back to the hot tub. Jim wanted to know what took so long, and I told him that Jan was horny and wanted to fuck. He just laughed and said, “Don’t let me bother you.”

When Jan came back to the hot tub, she stepped down into the tub and immediately moved over to where Jim was, and straddled him, rubbing her tits on his chest, and grinding her pussy into his hard cock. She said, “Jim, why are you so hard?” He just laughed and said, “I wonder!”

She continued rubbing on Jim, letting him feel her tits, then moved over to me and said, “Your turn!” 

I immediately freed my hard cock from my shorts, pulled her up, undid the strings on the thong bottom, slipped the thong off and threw it out on the deck. Then I lowered her onto my throbbing cock, feeling the tight walls of her pussy sliding up and down. Jan was letting out soft moans as I went deeper and deeper. When I had it all the way in, I noticed Jan reach over to Jim and pull him closer. 

Then she reached for his cock, telling him to take his shorts off. He did and Jan pulled him closer and told him to stand up. 

When Jim stood up, Jan grabbed his dick and pulled him to her mouth, slowly licking the head, then sucking in about 3 inches of his hard cock through her beautiful lips. 

This was about all I could stand, and I started pumping her faster and faster, knowing that I was going to come pretty soon at this rate! 

She was sucking Jim’s cock and fucking me saying, “I have always wanted to do this!”

It didn’t take but a couple of minutes and Jim told her that he was getting ready to come. She breathlessly said, “Come in my mouth!” I knew from the blow jobs she had given me that she liked the taste of cum, and I knew she was going to have an enormous orgasm if he came in her mouth. 

She no sooner got that out of her mouth and Jim started to come. Jan started shaking, and was pumping Jim’s cock as fast as she could, while fucking me faster and faster. Then she exploded, letting out a whimper, then a low scream. 

I felt my cum welling up, then releasing. God it felt good and I was a very satisfied man. 

Jan lifted herself off of me and moved over to Jim, giving him a little kiss and saying, “Thanks, that was fun!” 

Then she moved over and kissed me whispering that she appreciated me letting her do that and that she loved me! 

It was getting late, and Jan suggested that we get out of the tub and dry off. Jim said that would be a good idea, but, only if she stayed naked. 

Jan giggled and said, “O.K., but you have to stay naked too!”

We went into the house and I told Jan that I thought she should dry us off while we dried her off. She jumped at the chance!

As she was drying Jim off, she lingered around his cock and said, “I hope this has taken some of the hurt away from your problems.” Jim said, “I have forgotten my problems, I just wish my wife had been as open as you!” 

Jan told Jim that anytime he was hurting over his divorce, to come over and we would see what we could do about relieving him again!

Jim came over a few times after that, and Jan lived up to what she told him, but, she never fucked him. I asked her why and she said, “I save that for you and I!” 

Well, needless to say, this was an excellent way to celebrate our anniversary, and I love my wife more and more every day because of this. We have never had a single fight since that night, and our sex life is better than it’s ever been!



Divorce, Italian Style



Public conveyance dropped Lucia off into the sea of humanity at 5th and Broadway. For two blocks she was swept along by the flow of the post lunch crowd until she side-stroked her way to the entrance of the Forbes building. 

Lucia pushed her way through the circular door and left the din of the big city behind. The cavernous hallway echoed the tapping of her four-inch heels as they struck the polished marble floor. 

From behind, Lucia was impressive. She was a shapely 28 year-old and liked to show it. Her thin, black pencil skirt accentuated her tight posterior and highlighted each curve as she moved. The hemline fell to just above her knees, exhibiting sexy, elongated calves through her sheer nylons. 

Lucia's auburn, shoulder-length hair shimmered and swayed just a bit as she walked toward the building directory. 



Office of Jason Whitlock, Attorney at Law

Room 510 



Lucia stepped out of the elevator on the fifth floor. She was headed toward her initial appointment related to filing divorce proceedings. At first Lucia feared there must be something wrong with her. Gradually she came to realize it was the man she married. For some reason his libido had taken a nose dive. She was still young and very sexual. She wasn't about to die on the vine so, much to her dismay Lucia decided to initiate a divorce. 

She was ten minutes early and decided to freshen up a bit in the ladies room. Standing in front of the ladies room mirror Lucia thought, "How could that bastard spend so much time with his video games? Oh well, his loss." 

Lucia admired her well-proportioned 5' 5" frame. She knew her hot Italian attributes were attractive and liked to use them to her advantage. She touched up her ruby red lip gloss, gave a confident toss of her auburn curls... then undid one more button on her candy striped blouse. She made sure just enough cleavage of her 36 D's was revealed. 

Lucia approached the receptionist's desk and announced her arrival. 

"Hello, I'm here for my 1:00 p.m. appointment with Mr. Whitlock. My name is Lucia Barducci." 

"Yes, of course Mrs. Barducci. I'll let him know you're here." 

The receptionist presented as a very attractive Asian woman of about 35 years. The collar of her dark red satin blouse stood upright, framing her neck in exotic fashion. She was mysterious, she was sexy, and Lucia felt herself uncomfortably attracted to this woman. 

Inside the office, Jason Whitlock sat behind his carved wooden desk glancing over the records of his client. He smiled as he looked at her picture, thinking she was very young and had her whole life ahead of her. If things worked out, he knew he would be the one to help her get through this difficult period.

Over Whitlock's intercom came the announcement, "Your one o'clock appointment is here. 

"Thank you Sarah, show her in please." 

Lucia walked into the office and the door shut behind her. She was impressed by the decor which appeared to be almost Gothic in nature. Two walls of books ran from the floor to the ceiling. On the wall to her left, Lucia observed dark and mysterious looking paintings that she couldn't quite interpret. To Lucia, the handsome man behind the desk dressed in formal suit and tie, was possibly thirty years her senior. Still, she could tell he took care of himself. He wasn't muscular in a body-building way, but he was fit and appealing. 

Whitlock smiled and motioned with his hand, "Come in, please... have a seat, Mrs. Barducci." 

Lucia took a seat in one of the two leather wing chairs that were positioned at slight angles in front of Whitlock's desk. The chair had a hard straight back and was not at all comfortable. The construction of the chair caused Lucia to sit upright and made her breasts strain at her tight blouse. As Lucia crossed her legs, her skirt came to about half way up her thigh revealing her soft, creamy flesh just above her nylons. 

"Now, Mrs. Barducci..."

Lucia interrupted, "Please call me Lucia."

Lucia had always been a confident... perhaps some would say, outspoken woman. She intended to make it known she was soon to be independent as well.

"Yes, of course. Lucia, tell me about your situation. You appear to be a young and desirable woman. Why is it that you would like to file for divorce?"

"Thank you Mr. Whitlock. I'm sure you can understand when a woman needs a man, but he isn't interested in her... well, the relationship just isn't very satisfying... if you know what I mean. I have a lot to offer a man both intellectually and physically..." 

As Lucia spoke, Whitlock's attention drifted off to other thoughts. This attractive young woman sitting before him was very sexy. He imagined what it would be like to caress and suck on her beautiful breasts, and to have her sweet lips slide up and down his cock.

With these thoughts, Whitlock's hands moved to his crotch. As Lucia talked, he began rubbing himself to the degree that a rather large tent appeared in his pants. Fortunately he was behind his desk which covered all evidence of his desire. What he could not hide, and what he was not aware of was his rapid breathing and the appearance of perspiration upon his forehead. 

"... and so Mr. Whitlock, you can see I'm really looking to start over... Mr. Whitlock... Mr. Whitlock. Are you alright?" 

Lucia was very concerned about her lawyer's apparent discomfort. She sprang from her chair to offer him assistance, but was shocked by her discovery as she went around to Whitlock's side of the desk.

Seeing Whitlock's hand grasping the outline of a very big cock, Lucia exclaimed, "Oh, Mr. Whitlock! You're a very naughty man. I just don't know what to think." 

The fact was that Lucia secretly admired older men. She was attracted to their knowledge and experience in and out of the bedroom. They had power, patience, and stamina... and this one came with a big package! 

Whitlock was caught red handed as it were, but he would not allow this sex object of his affection to perceive him as compromised and embarrassed. 

"Err... uh... no Lucia, it is you who has been naughty," said Whitlock in a very authoritative tone. "You've used your physical assets to play upon my sympathies." 

Sensing this man liked to be in control of younger women, Lucia apologized in her most demure voice.

"You're right Mr. Whitlock. I'm so sorry I took advantage. Perhaps I went too far." 

With a glint in his eyes and a thin smile on his lips, Whitlock postulated, "Perhaps you did not go far enough." 

Although this tantalizing repartee was beginning to excite Lucia, she maintained an air of composure. 

"What do you mean, Mr. Whitlock?" 

Surmising a change in Lucia's attitude, Whitlock took a bold chance.

"What I mean is I want you to take off that revealing top and get on your knees." 

Lucia thought, "Should I walk or run out the door?" 

She decided her answer would be neither. Another fact unknown to Whitlock was that Lucia liked to suck cock. Big or short, young or old, any variety of multiracial fuck poles... it just didn't matter. What did matter was that Lucia had a very special talent, and she knew it. She loved to please a man with her oral ministrations and loved it when he shot his load down her throat. 

Lucia felt herself control gratifyingly slip away as she submitted to this man of power and influence. Somehow she felt safe with him.

Standing about two feet in front of Whitlock, Lucia quietly unbuttoned her blouse and let it fall to the floor. Her black lace bra adorned her beautiful round breasts. She was so young, they were so firm. Just the top of the bra cup brushed her areola and hid her nipples. She smiled as she saw his hands begin to rub his crotch once again. In this somewhat exposed position, Lucia obligingly got down on her hands and knees. 

"Come here" said Whitlock, in an intonation which seemed somewhere between a command and a request.

Lucia crawled on all fours over to Whitlock, posing in a submissive posture between his legs. 

Whitlock unzipped his pants, smiling proudly as he displayed the virtual image of his very hard shaft poking at the material of his boxers.

The hunger grew in Lucia's eyes as Whitlock reached down into his shorts and began to stroke himself.

As he stroked even harder, Lucia bit her lip and unconsciously circled her hips with the thought of Whitlock's fully engorged cock buried deep within her, in her mouth, in her pussy.

Whitlock moaned as he watched this once controlled woman, now turned into a squirming, cock whore.

Looking up into Whitlock's eyes, Lucia placed her hands on his knees and silently pleaded, "Please release your cock, I'm so hungry for your cum."

As if reading Lucia's mind but to torture her just a little more, Whitlock slowly pulled the hem of his boxers down... further... still further, until his large, rock hard shaft sprung free from its cloth prison. Lucia's naturally bright eyes lit up even more, as a greedy smile spread across her face. 

"Tell me what you want, Lucia."

"I want to suck that big juicy cock of yours, Mr. Whitlock. I want to hear your moans of pleasure as I swallow you whole and make you shoot your hot load deep into my throat." 

Lucia could see the trail of translucent precum sliding down the head of Whitlock's throbbing cock. Wide-eyed, she placed both her hands on his stiff meat and leaned forward to take it into her mouth. 

Whitlock had other plans. He stopped Lucia just as she was about to devour his rigid manhood.

To Lucia's surprise and consternation, Whitlock pushed the intercom button and said, "Sarah, come in here."

The secretary entered the room and walked around to the business side of the desk. There she saw Lucia on her knees with Whitlock's cock in her hands.

"Lucia, I believe you've already met my wife, Sarah. Sarah, Lucia wants to suck my cock. What do you think of that?"

Although she didn't remove her hands from Whitlock's stiff shaft, Lucia did look up at Sarah like a little girl who had got caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

Sarah placed her hands on her hips, looked down at Lucia, smiled and said, "I think she would do you real good sweetie, and I'm going to watch the whole show."

As if plotting out a scene in a play, Sarah assumed a director's position. 

Pointing with her index finger to a spot just beside her Sarah said, "Lucia, I want you to get up and stand here while you remove your skirt and nylons."

Doing as she was told, Lucia took her position and began removing the articles of clothing. As she did so, she became embarrassingly aware of a large wet spot in the front of her white cotton panties. She began to remove them but Sarah told her to leave them on.

While Lucia busied herself, Sarah told her husband to remove all his clothes and lay in a supine position on the floor.

"Mmmmmmm... yes, I think he's ready for you, you little cock whore," stating the obvious as Whitlock's shaft was standing enthusiastically at attention.

"But, my dear you're going to have to work for my husband's cock."

Lucia felt somewhat degraded and humiliated that Mr. Whitlock and his wife had put her in this situation. She also knew she wanted very much to be a part of this scene and she would give it her best... but what did Sarah mean by working for Whitlock's cock.

"Lucia, I'm going to sit over here in the corner while you sit on my husband's face. He's going to eat that sweet little pussy of yours with your wet cotton panties still on. If you make my husband's face wet enough, I'll let you suck his tortured cock. The rest is up to the both of you to improvise for me." 

As stated, Sarah took her place in the corner and watched as Lucia straddled Mr. Whitlock's head, slowly lowering her soaked panty clad cunt onto his waiting mouth.

Whitlock savored the fragrance of Lucia's woman scent as the vapors of her wet heat enveloped his face. He grabbed Lucia's ass with both hands and began to slide her back and forth over his open mouth. He didn't need much help as she quite willingly rocked her hips forward and back. The feeling of her cotton panties on the sensitive flesh of her pussy was causing involuntary spasms of Lucia's swollen clit.

"Oh yes... Mr. Whitlock... eat me... please eat my wet, fucking pussy."

As she softly spoke these words, Lucia heard a deep guttural moan from the corner of the room. Jolted just a bit from her dream-like state, Lucia turned to see Sarah sitting completely naked from the waist down, furiously fucking her pussy hole with two fingers. Sloppy wet noises emanated from Sarah's cunt and her eyes seemed fixed in a glassy stare upon the action taking place before her.

Lucia's excitement was heightened by Sarah's voyeurism. With her fingers, Lucia slid the panty material to one side of her crotch. "Suck my clit 

Mr. Whitlock. Suck me and lick me while your wife watches and fucks herself."

Much to Lucia's delight, Whitlock followed her orders well. His tongue darted in and out of her love tunnel while alternately caressing the sensitive flesh of her inner pussy lips. He loved the taste of her sweet honey as it washed over his face and dripped into his mouth. Now Whitlock focused his frenetic tongue movements on Lucia's engorged clit.

"Oh fuck yesssssss, Mr. Whitlock. Mmmmm...ohhhhhhh..." Lucia's tummy was twitching in spasms now. Her breathing became more rapid as Whitlock's licking turned to sucking. Lucia's copious juices were unable to quench the fire she felt in her clit as it slipped between Whitlock's lips. Lucia was getting close to cumming and she wanted to make sure Sarah saw her writhing in ecstasy as she drenched her husband's face.

The action between Lucia and Mr. Whitlock did not go unnoticed from Sarah's point of view. She was stroking her clit with wild abandon, moaning and muttering, "You fucking bastard, eat her pussy... ohhhhh... suck her clit... my god, ohhhh, my god, I'm going to cum... I... ohhhhhhhhhh fuck yesssss." Sarah never took her eyes off Lucia as she rubbed her clit, bucked her hips, and fell back on the floor in a puddle of her own juices.

Whitlock began jacking his own hard cock with one hand as he continued his sucking assault on Lucia's throbbing clit. Lucia was right at the edge. Her tension was building in her pussy, her breathing was uncontrolled, her thighs tightened around Whitlock's head. Then she felt it... that little tingling, electrical sensation that signaled the point of no return. As if to give her one final push over the edge, Whitlock captured Lucia's clit in his mouth, sucking it one last time and licking just the tip of it with his tongue.

"That's it Muh... Muh... Mr. Whitlock... "Lucia grabbed Mr. Whitlock's head and pulled him in hard against her exploding pussy. "You're making me cum. Ohhhhhh, fuuuuuuuuuck." Lucia's head snapped back. Her voice trembled and shook. She moaned and gasped for air. Her tension overflowed, and as one orgasmic spasm after the other racked her body, she came on Whitlock's face with a torrent of hot, wet, juices.

Whitlock continued to jerk his cock while Lucia slumped forward, completely spent. Sarah recovered from her orgasm and crawled over to her husband, covering her hand over his to join him in his masturbatory movements. "Take your pussy off my husband's face, Lucia. I want to see how wet you made him. Let's see if you earned the right to suck his cock."

Once Lucia was sitting beside Whitlock, it was obvious she had in fact done her job. Whitlock's entire face was wet and slick with Lucia's translucent bodily fluids. "Mmmmmmmm, very nice you little cum slut. Now come down here and suck my husband's pole." 

Lucia needed no further encouragement. She had been deprived too long of the taste of this older man's gorgeous and experienced fuck machine. She also knew that Whitlock had been hard and deprived of cumming for quite a while. Lucia would have to be careful not to put him over the edge too soon. She positioned herself between Whitlock's legs, her hands on his naked thighs. "Okay, I'll take over from here," Lucia nodded at Sarah with a smile on her face.

Sarah backed off to watch as her husband continued to hold and masturbate his cock. While he did so, Lucia slowly rubbed her hands up and down Whitlock's thighs bringing them closer and closer to his swollen ball sack. Whitlock moaned as Lucia cupped his balls in one of her hands and began to lightly suck on them. At the same time with her free hand she gently removed Whitlock's hand from is cock and replaced it with hers. 

Lucia now began to stroke Whitlock lightly as she gently held both of his balls in her mouth. "You fucking cock whore," Whitlock moaned. With these words of degradation, Lucia felt her pussy reawaken with warm fluids moistening her inner lips. A similar action was taking place around Whitlock's saliva-soaked balls as Lucia's chin dripped with the overflow. 



Another form of overflow was leaking from Whitlock's circumcised cock head. The clear precum caused the vermillion cap to glisten as it trailed down his rock hard shaft. Lucia needed to taste it. Now. With her hand on his erect dick, she guided it to her mouth. Lucia delighted in the taste of Whitlock's salty liquid as she slowly slid her pursed lips down his shaft.

Again Whitlock moaned, "Oh fuck yessssss... suck me you filthy cum slut." Again, Lucia felt humiliated. Excitement welled up inside her and her hand went directly to her engorged clit. As she rubbed herself toward her own pleasure, Lucia felt Whitlock's cock pulse on her lips. She knew he was getting close and with a big suck and a loud popping noise she removed his member from her mouth.

Selfishly, Lucia wanted to enjoy this experience a little longer. Still administering to the need between her own legs, Lucia continued to play with her clit while she slapped Whitlock's stiff shaft against her cheeks. "Thwack... thwack... thwack." Every stinging slap caused Lucia to squeeze her legs together a little tighter which in turn, made Whitlock moan in sweet agony.

This entire scene was being appreciated by Sarah who was lying close to her husband's side. She seemed to relish in and be excited by this beautiful, young woman giving her husband head. Her eyes darted back and forth between her husband and Lucia. As she watched she played with her wet pussy, moaning and sighing as Lucia's actions caused Whitlock to edge closer and closer to losing control. "You bitch! Put that cock back in your mouth," she ordered Lucia.

Lucia smiled gratefully, and hungrily devoured Whitlock's cock up to the hilt. Now she began her jacking motion as her mouth slid up and down on his shaft. Occasionally Lucia stopped briefly to rub Whitlock's cock head on her lips as if she were applying lip gloss. Smacking her lips Lucia moaned, "Ummmmmm... ohhhhhh... mmmmm... you taste so good Mr. Whitlock."

Whitlock gasped and Sarah cried out, "Oh my god, now! You fucking bitch. Suck his cock, hard. I'm fucking cumming". She could contain herself no longer. She brought herself to a tremendous, shaking orgasm, squirting her juices a foot or more in front of her. The thought of being watched and humiliated brought Lucia to her own uncontrolled orgasm. Her hand pressed against her mound as her clit throbbed in total release. 

Even as her tummy was jolted with orgasmic spasms, Lucia's experienced lips were in full pleasure-giving mode. She swirled her tongue around Whitlock's head and bobbed up and down on his shaft. She worked her magic well, and gently raked her teeth back down his shaft and up towards the head. She began to suck harder, making her cheeks hollow with the pressure and rubbing her tongue in the little valley that makes up the ridge on the very tip. Whitlock began circling his hips and Lucia knew he was getting close. He grabbed her hair with both fists and began vigorously fucking her mouth. Lucia flicked her tongue across Whitlock's cock head one last time and that was all he needed. Lucia sucked purposefully as he spilled his warm, salty seed onto her waiting tongue. She lapped it up and eagerly swallowed his explosive load, then licked the drops that were on her lower lip and chin.




Divorce, Italian Style



By the time Lucia had returned to her feet and put on her clothes, she had regained her composure and most of her self-confidence. Lucia seemed to have returned to the more controlled woman as she presented earlier. She was also amazed that the older man with whom she had exchanged most pleasurable sensations had returned to a state of tumescence in such a short amount of time. As Whitlock lay on the floor playing with his rigid penis, it was Lucia who this time, gave one last direction... to Sarah.

"Sarah, it's time for you to pleasure your husband's cock with that exotic Asian pussy." Sarah understood. She may be hopelessly kinky, but she knew how to take care of her man. The last thing Lucia saw as she closed the door behind her was Sarah sitting reverse cow-girl, riding her husband's fully engorged fuck tool.



Divorce Puts Son In The Middle



It was two months before I graduated high school when Dad walked into my room. He told me he needed to talk to me about something. I knew things weren’t going well between him and Mom. He told me he was leaving Mom and then he asked me for my help. To top it off, he said there was a reward for my help, but wouldn’t tell me what.

That was two weeks ago. I didn’t think I was going to get a chance to help Dad. That meant, no reward probably. I called Dad and told him. Instead of being angry, he told me to be patient. There was no hurry, he said. Yeah, easy for him to say.

All I knew was that every time I looked at my Mom over the past two weeks, I didn’t see the same person I had know for the previous 18 years. It didn’t help at all with the kind of pressure Dad was putting on me. I had to get away and went to a friend’s house for a few hours on Friday afternoon. When I got back, I found Mom in the living room.

I felt a bit like a spy, as I felt the adrenaline course through my body. Dad wasn’t in a rush. I was. For all that happened, Mom was sitting in front of the TV, smoking a cigarette and drinking a beer.

“Mom, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, baby?” she said with a smile.

“Are you glad Dad is gone?”

Her face changed a bit as she thought about the question. “No I wouldn’t say I was glad, more relieved.”

“I don’t understand?

“I’ve known your father was going to leave me for a long time now. He told me many years ago that his Dad had stayed with his Mom until he graduated high school. He made reference that he just might do the same,” she told me.

“So you are glad?” I asked again.

“No, Matt. I’m not glad. I loved, and still love your Father very much. But I have known he wasn’t happy. I guess all I can do is hope he finds what he is looking for,” Mom explained.

I decided to go straight to the question I needed answered. “Is it going to be a messy divorce?”

“Nope. All he has to do is give me the papers and I’ll sign him away free and clear. At this point, better for me to just get on with my life. What about you?” Mom asked.

“What about me?”

“What are you going to do? I know you have gotten along better with your Dad than you did me. You going to leave too?” she asked.

Dad had told me I was welcome to join him at his new place. And ever since my last visit I certainly wanted too. But another part of me couldn’t leave Mom alone.

“No, I’d like to stay here, if that’s okay?”

“Suit yourself. I didn’t have much of a hold on your father and he took off, I have less of a hold on you,” she responded sipping her beer.

“What do you mean?”

“Well at least with your Dad, I knew what he wanted. Sex. He used to complain that I didn’t make him happy. We did some things when we first got married and after a few years it stopped. I knew he didn’t like that. It was just a matter of time.”

I just sat there sort of dumbfounded. I had the information I needed, that Dad would not have to deal with a messy divorce. It would be easy for me to go and claim my reward, but something in the back of my mind lingered. Mom had walked into the kitchen and came back with two beers, handing me one of them.

“His loss though.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“It’s your Dad’s loss. He never read the signs. He thought I had stopped doing what he wanted. I just changed tactics and he never caught on. He could have done whatever he wanted with me if he had just done it. He always wanted to know if I wanted to do it or if it was okay. Just didn’t fit. I always told him, you can’t rape the willing, and Lord knows, I was always willing.”

“I’m confused. What are you talking about, Mom?”

“Oh I used to get drunk, like I am now, and your Dad and I would play some sex games. I was his sex slave. It was really a lot of fun. He was really good at using me and getting me off.”

I sipped my beer and tried not to look shocked.

“Oh don’t look so shocked. Your Mother and Father are just like anyone else. People like different things. I liked it when your Dad dominated me and forced me to do things. If he had just learned how to control me better, he would still be here now. Probably waiting for you to go to your room so he could have his way with me. Oh how I do miss those times,” Mom admitted.

I wondered just how much of this Dad knew. If it would matter.

“Does Dad know this?”

“Nope,” Mom said.

“Shouldn’t you tell him? I mean it might save your marriage. Do you want me to tell him?”

“I figure he already has some other ass lined up to spank. No reason to spoil his fun at this point. I’ll be fine. Your Dad’s main problem was he let me talk too much. Better things for a mouth to be doing,” she said with a laugh.

I went to my room and dialed Dad’s number. I told him Mom would give him his divorce without any problems. He asked me if I wanted to come over and get my reward. I told him I would be by in a bit and hung up. I tossed around the idea of telling Dad what Mom had told me. Why would she tell me those things if she didn’t want me to tell him?

I drove across town to the house Dad had rented. It was at the end of a cul de sac and had a large yard. I was surprised about that since he hated to cut the grass, but it looked very neat. I walked up to the door and rang the bell. I waited for perhaps thirty seconds and rang the bell again. Finally the door opened up and there stood my Dad.

“Matt. Great, you made it. I think you’re gonna like this,” he said holding the door open for me.

“So you think Mom will be cool about the divorce?” he asked.

“Yeah. I think so. She said she knew for awhile that you would probably go.”

“It’s not like I kept the fact that I wasn’t happy with her a secret. She had her chance to make things right and didn’t. Her loss,” he said.

I started laughing at his comment. The same as hers. I was just about to tell him all that Mom had told me when Dad started talking again.

“I got somebody I want you to meet. Now, this may be a bit of a shock, but it’s all cool. Trust me,” he said leading to a door which opened to the basement stairway.

I was shocked at what I found. Tied in the middle of the room was a woman, actually more like a girl. Maybe 25 at the most.

“This is my new slave, Misty. We have been spending a lot of time together and now she lives with me. Misty loves me and all I do to her, don’t you, Slave?”

The girl was tied with her arms above her head, the binding looped through a hoop that kept her on her tiptoes. She was naked except for three things. A collar, a mask and a gag in her mouth.

Dad’s hand landed on the girl’s bare ass with a loud smack. “Answer me bitch. You like what I do to you, don’t you?”

The girl’s head nodded up and down.

“You see, Matt, I have a thing for submissive women. I enjoy having them to do for me and for me to do things too. I’ve been training Misty here now for several months. She has come a long way, but has a few more things to learn. She gets to learn something new today,” Dad said with a sneer.

Dad picked up some type of leather whip and walked behind where the girl was hanging. I couldn’t help but think how erotic the scene was. After my conversation with Mom I knew two things. Dad was into this and more importantly, the girl was too.

“You gonna do as I tell you, slave?” Dad asked as he set the whip to her ass.

The girl’s head nodded up and down furiously.

“You know if you don’t, there will be hell to pay,” Dad told her whipping her smooth ass again, leaving several red welts where the leather met skin.

Dad lowered the hook the girl’s arms were on. Once unhooked she immediately went to her knees with her head down. Dad moved to her and removed the blindfold and the gag and gave the girl a drink of water.

“Stand,” he said and the girl sprang to her feet, my eyes fixed on her breasts as they bounced into their own place.

“This is my son, Matt,” Dad introduced, “You will obey him as you would me. You will call him Sir. Do you understand, slave?”

“Yes, Master I understand,” the girl replied to my Father. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir. Is there anything I can do for you?” she asked me.

I must have had a look on my face, because my Dad started laughing at me.

“He’s a bit new to this,” he said to the girl, taking a nipple between his fingers and pinching it hard enough to make the girl winch from the pain.

“Go get us a couple of beers.”

“Yes, Master,” she said and was gone.

“I know it seems weird, but it’s a hell of a lot of fun. You just have to find the right woman,” Dad explained.

“And Mom wasn’t the right woman?” I asked hoping not to breech some unseen line.

“She tried, but no where as good as this one. Maybe with better training. But she turned cold and well, to hell with her. Don’t have to get this one drunk either,” he said.

Dad’s slave girl returned with two beers and a bowed head. Dad led me to a seating area of two couches and motioned for me to sit. He lit a cigarette and motioned for the girl. She immediately got on her hands and knees in front of him.

“Nothing better than to drink a beer, smoke a cigarette and have a slave suck your cock,” he told me. He tapped the girl on the top of the head and spoke one word, “Suck.”

The girl opened Dad’s shorts and pulled his dick out and began the most enthusiastic blowjob I had ever seen. She slobbered and bobbed her head up and down, fucking Dad’s cock with her mouth. Whenever Dad had a free hand he used it on the back of her head to guide her in her efforts, occasionally holding her head all the way down on his cock.

Dad tapped her head again. “Stop.”

The girl pulled her mouth free and sat back on her feet. She wiped her mouth with her hand and dad offered her the beer.

“Time for your reward, Matt. And time for this one’s next lesson,” Dad told me.

He again tapped the girl on the head. “Suck Matt’s cock.”

The girl moved on hands and knees to where I was sitting. She worked on my pants until she freed me. She began to lick and suck at me. I was already half hard and in no time she had me at full mast.

“Damn, boy. Your shit’s bigger than mine is. Good, make her work harder at it. Help her out there boy. Hold her head and move her face on you like you want her to do it. You can’t expect a slave to know how you like it at first,” Dad instructed.

I held the girl’s face in my hands and basically continued to let her do what she wanted. It felt good but, something was missing.

“Let me show you. Slave, over here.”

The girl let my dick plop from her mouth and wave in the wind coated with her spit. She crawled to Dad and as she took him in her mouth, he grabbed two handfuls of her hair and pulled tight. He then started to piston her mouth back and forth over his cock.

“That’s it, suck it bitch. Make my cock happy with your mouth or I’ll whip you so bad you won’t be able to sit down for a fucking week,” he grunted at her.

He pumped her for a couple of more minutes, not even caring that I was in the room. His hand left her head and he began to pinch one of her nipples.

“Almost there, bitch. Ready for a hot load of cum?”

Dad didn’t seem to wait for an answer. His one hand pinched and pulled at the girl’s nipple as his other hand held her head down on his cock.

“Fuck yeah. Swallow it all, slut. Drink your dinner down, you fucking whore.”

I was surprised at the way he talked to the girl. Even more surprised when I heard her groans as my Dad pumped his load down her throat, her neck making obvious gulps to catch every drop. When Dad finished he pushed his slave away and she sat back gasping for air. 

I thought about the one, almost blowjob that I had gotten in my life. She didn’t let me cum in her mouth and I ended up with little more than a wet hand job. I quickly realized what I had been missing.

Dad tapped the girl’s head and pointed to me. With an obvious grin, the girl moved over and slowly licked up and down my still hard shaft. Her eyes were fixed on mine as I watched her work.

“Just sit back and enjoy if you want. She’s sucked me for over an hour before I finally let her have my cum. Make her work for it,” Dad told me.

I did let here do as she wanted. She seemed to be enjoying her work very much. Her mouth would nibble on my shaft and when she put her mouth over the head she would hum a bit. A real hum job. It was more than I could take and I held her head gently in my hands as I worked my hips up and down off the couch. Dad’s little slave took it all and groaned deep around me as I started pulsing, blasting my own load into her mouth. 

She surprised me as she pulled her mouth away and with little effort spit a mouthful of my cum back on my cock, only to suck it up again. When she was done, Dad called her over to him.

He patted her on the head. “Good girl. I am so very proud of you,” he said.

The girl smiled and laid her head on Dad’s leg, but kept looking at me.

I thanked my Dad and he promised that he would need my help with further training of Misty. I took my leave full of an awareness I didn’t have earlier. I drove home wondering just what Dad could make that girl do. I pulled into the driveway and went inside the house. I had forgot about my Mom. I suddenly and for no real reason felt guilty for what I had just done. She was still sitting and watching TV.

“Have fun?” she asked.

“What!?” I asked.

“Did you have fun? Where did you go?”

“Oh. I just went for a drive. Clear my head,” I said and suddenly felt embarrassed by my own comment.

“Good. A man should always have a clear head,” Mom said with a grin.

Did she know? How could she know? I checked my pants to make sure I had my zipper up and it was.

“Can I get you another beer?” Mom asked.

“Sure,” I replied, thinking I needed another one.

Mom came back and handed me the beer, but when I took it her hand slipped over mine. I looked up at her and she smiled at me before sitting back in her chair. I sipped my beer and things started to fall into place in my head.

“Switch that to Speedvision,” I told her motioning to the TV. I knew she hated any kind of car show, but she changed the channel anyway. I quickly finished my beer.

“Would you get me another beer?” I asked without looking over to her.

“Certainly,” she said as she rose and made her way to the kitchen.

As she came back, I could feel my heart beating hard in my chest. I don’t know if it was the beer or the excitement, but I felt a bit lightheaded. She handed me the beer but I took it with my other hand and took her hand in mine.

“Why don’t you sit here. I could use a good back rub,” I said quietly.

Mom didn’t say a word but sat down and began to run and knead my back muscles. We had crossed a line. I knew it and she knew it. What I didn’t know was what I could get away with, or where to really start.

Mom must have sensed my predicament. She moved around to almost in front of me.

“I can do this better without your shirt,” she said as she began to unhook the buttons.  

Once they were all loose, she removed my shirt completely. She went back to rubbing her soft hands over my skin. I needed to try again. To make sure. Something that would let me know I could do anything with her, to her. With her approval.

“Get me a cigarette.”

She brought the pack and handed it to me. I didn’t take it so she removed one from the pack and placed it to my lips. She then flicked the lighter and held it so it would light. She sat the pack down and moved for an ashtray, siting it within easy reach of me. Mom then sat back down and continued the massage.

“I think I would rather watch something else,” I commented.

Mom quickly got up and retrieved the remote control and offered it to me. She got a drunken twinkle in her eye when I didn’t take it.

“I think you need to punch that code in. The one that unlocks all the good channels that I know you have on here,” I told her.

She punched some buttons and then selected a channel. In seconds the wide screen TV was filled with a man and a woman fucking loudly for the camera. 

“Is that okay?” she asked me.

“It’ll do for now,” I said with a renewed sense of confidence. One last test. “But it would be better if you were nude while I watched.”

Mom turned to face me and I sat mesermized as she began to remove her clothes. Once she was naked I moved forward and let my hands roam over her body. To my surprise she was in excellent shape for a woman of 42. Her tits were nice and large and while sagging a bit, didn’t feel to be too floppy. My next surprise was to find her mound shaved smooth.

“I hope you like it that way,” she said breathlessly as my hand slipped between two very wet pussy lips.

“Yes I do. Very much,” I told her. “I think maybe you should finish undressing me now.”

The woman that up until a few minutes before was my mother was quickly on her hands and knees working to remove my shoes and socks and then my pants. I stood as she pulled my pants and underwear down. I was already hard and took my cock in my hand.

“How do you like this?” I asked.

“It’s wonderful. I haven’t seen one that large in person in a very long time,” she said as she remained on her knees looking at my cock swaying back and forth in front of her.

I rubbed it across her face and as it passed her lips she kissed the head. It felt great to be young as I realized I had just dumped a load down Dad’s new slave less than two hours ago. I also remembered what he showed me and what Mom herself had said.

“Suck it,” I ordered.

Mom’s face tilted forward and her mouth engulfed me to the root. At the moment, I couldn’t see why Dad had a problem with Mom. It was different from Misty, Dad’s slave, but still good.

“Suck my balls now, slave.”

Mom held my cock up out of the way and stroked me with her hand as her mouth opened to let my balls drop in. She could only take one and took turns bathing both. I could see the precum start to form on the tip of my cock.

“Lick this off,” I demanded.

Mom dutifully took the head in her mouth and bathed it with her tongue.

“Get it good and wet and then wrap those tits around it.”

She slobbered and spit on my cock and then sat up and moved her tits around my shaft. She worked them up and down and watched to see if I was enjoying myself.

“Pinch your nipples and suck the head each time it pops up,” I told her.

Her finger pinched at her own nipples and on each stroke as my cock rose from her tit flesh, she sucked the head between her lips. I thought about where I would be if I had only known about this sooner. It made me a bit angry. And then I remembered what happens to bad slaves.

I pushed Mom back, knocking her to the floor. I grabbed her arm and pulled her to the chair.

“Get across the back of that chair, right now. Spread them fucking legs. Wider,” I demanded of my Mom.

Once she was in position I pulled the belt from my pants. I took a few gently swats at her ass and saw no response from her. I increased the force and tempo and enjoyed watching her legs tense with each strike. I could hear her gasping as the pain from the whipping set in.

“Who do you belong to know, bitch?” I asked.

“You.”

“Who?” I asked hitting her hard with the belt again.

“You, Sir!”

“That’s better,” I told her as I draped the belt across her back.

I took my hand and ran it along the crack of her ass until I found her soaked pussy. It was true, she really did enjoy being used and abused. I stood between her legs and lined my cock up with the soupy mess between her legs. I inched forward until I was past her hole, the shaft soaking up Mom’s cunt juices.

“Put it in, slut. Show me how bad you really need cock.”

Her hand sneaked back and took hold of me and she held it still as she moved herself around to let me in. Once the head was in I pushed her hand away and held on to her hips.




Divorce Puts Son In The Middle



“Beg for it. Beg for my cock to fuck your cunt.”

“Please fuck me,” she said.

“Not good enough,” I told her as I hit her ass with the flat of my hand.

“Please, sir. Please fuck me,” she meekly begged.

“Still not good enough, slut.”

“Oh please, sir. Fuck your slave’s cunt. Use me and make me your own. My cunt hole belongs to you to use as you wish. But sir if I had one and only one wish right now it would be for your huge cock to be inside me right now.”

That was good enough. I rammed all the way in with one powerful stroke. I could easily feel her pussy cumming, the muscles pulling tight against me. I pulled out and pushed in deep again and felt her quiver yet again. Then I could wait no more. I began pounding my cock into Mom’s wet pussy. As I fucked her I pushed her legs against the coarse material of the chair. I reached around and found both nipples and began to pinch and pull on them. 

“Oh yes Master. Fuck me good. Use my slave cunt. Of fuck yes.”

The words from my Mother’s mouth were too much for me. I grabbed her hips and pushed in deep and held her as my balls began pumping another load. This one into my Mom's slave pussy. 

As I pulled out, Mom’s hand shot between her legs and then she turned around and kneeled and began to lick my cock clean. It appeared to be something she really wanted to do as she licked and slurped all the juices from our fucking from my cock. As she sat back I moved back to the couch and sat down.

“Sir, would it make you happy for me to kneel on my hands and knees in front of you so you can prop you feet up and watch your cum dribble from my hole?”

I just nodded, realizing there was much for me to learn about having a slave. I also realized I knew the perfect teacher.