****** Ex-Wife Takes What's Hers by Muscle Man ******
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Ex-Wife Takes What's Hers


Our divorce had been a messy one, to say the least. My ex-wife Cathy, a raging,
mean-spirited alcoholic of 44, had taken the house, the car, and even my
antique baseball collectibles in the settlement. I was left to live by myself
in a one-bedroom apartment on the outskirts of town. That's a small price to
pay, I thought to myself, to be rid of this woman and end 5 years of misery.

And I was making the most of my new freedom. I'm only 27 (17 years younger than
Cathy), very attractive, and had begun dating again. Work was going great, and
now that I was rid of the dead weight of my marriage, my outlook on life was
brighter than ever. Then, unfortunately, things changed for the worst.

Cathy, for all practical purposes, was still in love with me. No, she was
obsessed with me. It was I who had insisted on a separation and divorce, and
she resisted until the bitter end. After all, she probably thought I was just
bluffing. Our 5 years together were marked by her incessant drinking, which
affected Cathy in very adverse ways. She grew increasingly bitter and violent,
and thought nothing of attacking me completely unprovoked. It wasn't unusual
for me to report to work with a black eye or bruised jaw, which I casually
explained away as flag football games gone awry.

And her sexual appetites were insatiable, particularly when she was drinking.
She would jump me in the shower, the hallway, the stairwell. Despite my pleas,
she would fondle me under the sheets in the middle of the night merely hours
before I had to go to work. Saying "no" to her only served to irritate her, and
she would continue stroking me until I was hard enough for her to mount and
ride me to several orgasms.

My best friend and confidant, Dave, encouraged me for years to seek a divorce.
And, eventually, I followed his advice and set out on my own.

Then the letters and phone calls started. They were innocent enough at first,
but grew annoying when the tone became violent and threatening. Cathy would
call me, tell me she loved me and wanted to get back together, and I would say
no and hang up. Then she'd call again. And again. I always knew when she was
drinking as her words would be slurred and her language was more belligerent.

Frequently, I would find letters and notes on my car when I would leave for
work. She would write things like, "If I can't have you, then nobody will" and
"If you won't take me back, then I'll have to take what's mine." They were
always cryptic, yet I was shaken enough to secure a restraining order against
her. That, however, only seemed to piss Cathy off, although it did seem to slow
down the calls and letters.

One night, however, I returned from work and found my apartment door slightly
ajar. Thinking maybe I had just accidentally left it open, I did a quick
inventory of my apartment and found nothing missing. So I forgot about the
matter and stripped down for my nightly shower. I remember the warm water felt
particularly soothing that night, as I pondered what my new life will bring.
Most importantly, I was excited about a new life without my ex-wife Cathy.

And then it hit me. I felt sensations of cold air on my wet body, which I
thought unusual since the bathroom was normally very hot due to the steam from
the shower. Wait a minute, I thought to myself. I always shut the bathroom door
when I shower. How the hell could it get open? Swinging the shower door open to
investigate, I encountered a startling vision: Cathy was in my bathroom, and
she was brandishing an 8-inch hunting knife.

"Hey, lover boy, did ya miss me?" she said, ogling my naked body. "I sure
missed you, especially that wonderful cock of yours." The smell of alcohol
immediately hit me, as did the disheveled appearance of my one-time wife. Her
sandy blonde hair was matted and partially covered her blood shot eyes. She
wore blue jeans, sneakers, and an old yellow sweatshirt. I could tell Cathy
wasn't wearing a bra as her rather ample breasts bounced when she talked, and
her pronounced nipples protruded from her shirt. Having been married to her for
5 years, I knew that when her nipples protruded to freakishly long proportions
she was ready for sex.

"Hey, what the hell!" I screamed at her. "Get the fuck out of my apartment, you
bitch." Cathy only bit her lip and laughed. She had the hunting knife, and she
and I both knew she was physically capable of gutting me alive with it.

"I don't think so," she said, grinning. "You're still my husband, whether the
law recognizes it or not. And as my husband, you have certain duties. And there
are certain things that I'm entitled to." Cathy glanced down at my now-hard
cock, and I knew exactly what she was referring to.

"Uh, I don't think so," I retorted.

"Yeah, I think so," she said, waving the knife in front of my face. "Not get
your ass into the bedroom, and I mean now!" Without hesitation I did as she
said, and she instructed me to lay down on my back on my bed.

Pulling out two foot-long cords of rope, Cathy tied both of my hands to my
headboard. Now I was naked, completely exposed, and unable to even move. And my
captor was enjoying the show.

"Oh, god. You don't know how long it's been, lover boy," she said as she slowly
peeled off her sweater, her heavy, sweaty breasts swaying from side to side.
"I'm really going to enjoy fucking you, just for old time's sake." Within
seconds she had kicked off her shoes and blue jeans, and her familiar blonde
triangle of pubic hair was slowly making its way to my head.

"Okay, baby, first I want you to eat me out. And do a good job, because I want
to be good and wet when I fuck you." I did as she said, first nibbling on her
clit and then massaging her slit with my tongue. Judging from her audible
gasps, Cathy was enjoying every second.

"God, this is just too much," she said, as she scooted down my body and raised
herself up to straddle my cock. "I've got to have it, and now!" Then she
lowered herself down on all 7 inches. Before long her blonde, swollen, wet
pussy was gliding up and down on my shaft. She started slowly, then built up
momentum as her ass pounded my balls violently up and down, then down and up.

Although my hands were tied, I desperately wanted to cup her magnificent
breasts and chew on those amazing nipples. Even though I was being raped, I
could never resist the sight of her nipples as they jutted from her chest like
two long bullets.

"I'm . . .just. . .taking. . .what's. . .rightfully. . .mine," she panted as
she continued riding me. I was well aware that in our last year of marriage, I
had deprived her of a lot of sex. And she was making up for lost time.

After one hour of screaming, mind-numbing sex, Cathy decided she had enough and
untied me. Before she left, however, she revealed a cam corder that was
carefully hidden under a pile of clothes. Cathy had taped the entire thing, I
thought to myself. That bitch!

"You see this, lover boy?" she said as she held up the tape. "If you even THINK
of reporting this to the police, I'll make sure every member of your family and
all your friends have a copy. Just so they can see you get raped by your ex-
wife. And, if you want to make sure this tape is never seen by anybody, you
have to fuck me whenever I come by. If you don't give me my fill of your cock
on a regular basis, this is for the whole world to see."

So my life with Cathy continues. . .

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