An Ending and a Beginning

Latisha smiled, picked some items off of her cart, moved her cart into a storage room, and off we went. We had a very pleasant conversation on the way – any conversation once we got there wouldn't be pleasant. When we got near Room 208 Latisha told me what she was going to do, and I told her to get her ass out of there as soon as the door was opened.

With a clever ruse, Latisha kept on knocking on the door despite the protests of the female voice from inside telling her to go away. Finally, a perturbed Joan Britton opened the door and started in on Latisha when I pushed the door open and walked into the room. Joan was yelling at me and didn't even notice Latisha beating it out of there.

When I walked into the main part of the room, there was Alan, lying on the bed naked with his dick at attention. His face lost its color when he saw me. I snapped a quick photo of him, then one of Joan. She tried to grab my cellphone out of my hand – big mistake. I hit her with my shoulder into the wall, and then took off. Since she just had a flimsy bathrobe on and no shoes I didn't think that she'd follow as I ran out the side entrance and then went around to the other wing of the hotel and up to my suite. I put on the interior locks so that no one could enter even with a key.

I called the airlines, booked a flight for first thing the next morning, threw all of my clothes into my suitcase and Alan's into his, put his cellphone, passport, and wallet in my purse and was about to call the bellman when I heard a key in the door. Alan's entry was barred by the two interior locks.

"Amy, honey, let me in. I know things don't look good, but we need to talk."

"Get out or I call security," I yelled.

"Listen, honey, let's be reasonable. We can work this out."

Instead of calling the bellman I called security and told them that an unauthorized person was trying to get into my room and I needed two security guards right away, because I thought that he was getting violent. When I heard them approach Alan outside the room he was pleading that this was his room.

I opened the door enough to talk to the security guys. "Thank you for coming gentlemen. Please check with the front desk and you will see that this room is in my name only – Amy Wilton," I said, holding out my passport. One of the guards – the same one who had been with Dr. Dutra and Latisha when I was being tended to – smiled, took my passport and got on his radio. After a minute he confirmed that the room was in my name only."

"But I'm her husband," Alan whined.

"I don't know this man – does he have an ID?" I asked, knowing that all of Alan's IDs were in my suite.

"Do you have an ID sir?" one of the security guys asked.

"It's in my room – see, I have a key," he replied holding up his key.

"I lost a key today and he must have found it," I snarled. "Confiscate it," I ordered the security guys.

They did confiscate the key and after some more pleading by Alan and disclaimers by me they led him away. Just before they did I grabbed the main security guy's arm, mouthed "Thank you," and slipped him two $50 bills. I was sure glad that I had brought $1,000 in cash with me on this trip!

Within an hour I had checked out after making sure that the key to my room would be changed. The bellman had delivered my bags to a cab that was going to take me to another hotel right next to the airport, Alan's bags were going to be boxed up and sent to his parents' house (that was expensive, but worth it), and the front desk clerk and bellman were very happy with the excessive tips I gave them from the cash in Alan's wallet.

From my new hotel room I called the credit card companies for the cards that Alan and I jointly held, and the one card that he held in his name, and told them that the cards were stolen, just in case Alan remembered any of his numbers (which I doubted, but why take a chance). I still had one solely in my name with a high credit limit.

The first thing that I did when I got back to the U. S. was to shred Alan's passport, driver's license, and credit cards – and any other card that I found in his wallet – and destroy his cellphone (after copying his exchanged texts with Joan). I figured that it would be at least three days before he could get back to the U. S. without his identification or credit cards, but I had a lot to do.

I had all of the furniture that was mine – 90% of it – moved out of our house and into storage except for the few items that I needed for a small apartment that I rented. I installed unobtrusive video cameras at select locations in the house and replaced my two prized possessions – a pair of antique Tiffany lamps, one worth about $40,000, and the other about $3,000 – with replicas that I left at the house. I had the locks changed by an employee of my locksmith company.

On a burner phone I called Joan's ex-husband (her second), Tom Britton, who I had met maybe half a dozen times over the years. I asked him to meet me for dinner. "I want to talk to you about Joan," I said.

"That fucking cheating bitch?" was his instant reply. "Why do you want to talk about that whore?"

"I want to find a way to hurt her!" was my reply.

"When and where," he cackled.

The next night I met Tom for dinner. He was a font of information. After finding out everything that I could about Joan I asked him point blank "What would really upset her without me getting physical and going to jail?"

Tom grinned. "I can't guarantee the not going to jail part but there are four items she got in the divorce that she holds dear. Two are really hers – the other two she stole from me in the divorce by lying through her teeth and she considers them her victory trophies."

"Maybe I can get them back for you," I chortled.

The next day Tom had photographs of four items hand delivered to my office. A Faberge egg, a diamond bracelet, a bronzed pacifier, and a pair of gold antique cufflinks.

I confirmed with the bitch's office that she was still on vacation, then about ten in the morning I gave my longest term and most trusted employee at my locksmith business the photos that Tom Britton had sent to me, as well as Joan's address. He stopped off at a new warehouse where we were installing locks for all sorts of interior and exterior doors, and snuck out the back into a car that I had waiting for him so that his truck was always clearly visible to the security camera in front of the building. He came back with the four objects by three that afternoon.

We destroyed the photos, and the latex gloves and shoe covers that he wore in Joan's condo. I called Tom on my burner phone and made arrangements to meet him at the bank where his safe deposit box was. All items had been wiped down for both DNA and fingerprints, and put in opaque plastic bags. Tom was as happy as a pig in poop when I delivered them to him just outside his bank. I told him "Be sure never to contact me again; except that if there is an emergency buy a burner phone and call my office. We don't know each other."

"Who are you?" he joked just before he disappeared inside the bank to put the sacred objects into his safety deposit box, cackling like an agitated hen.

**********************

Alan did not take being locked out of the house or the missing furniture well when he returned to the U. S. five days after I left him in Anguilla. The hidden cameras at our house caught him breaking a window to get in, cursing as he went around the house, and smashing my fake Tiffany lamps with a baseball bat. When he arrived back at work the next morning the process server with my divorce papers was waiting for him. His call from his office to my cell phone was not pleasant.

"What the fuck is going on, Amy? Are you trying to ruin my fucking life?" he screamed.

"Actually Alan, I'm trying to improve your 'fucking life' by allowing you to fuck anyone you want to – not that that stopped you when we were married."

"What was that shit of taking my passport, wallet and cell phone and leaving me stranded in Anguilla? You'll pay me for all of the trouble and expense you caused for me in getting back to the U. S."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Did someone steal your I. D.s?" I replied trying not to sound too smug. "And why couldn't your fuck buddy Joan help you out?" For this last zinger I did not suppress my smugness.

After some more swearing and name calling by Alan I said "Listen, asshole; do yourself a favor; jus sign the divorce papers as is. Oh, and by the way, I'm coming to get my Tiffany lamps sometime this weekend. I don't know how they got left behind when I removed the rest of the furniture."

"Someone broke them," he snickered. "Maybe the same person who 'stole' my I. D.s in Anguilla."

Of course the difference was I had him on DVD smashing my "prized possessions," while he couldn't prove anything about me taking his cell phone, wallet and passport.

********************

Although I had gotten some sweet – though not totally over-the-top – revenge on Alan and that bitch Joan, I was not feeling so good. I couldn't believe the blow that Alan's cheating was to my ego. While I knew I wasn't the sexiest woman alive, I thought that Alan thought that I was great in and out of bed. I was feeling sexless and vulnerable.

Despite some piss-ant maneuvers by Alan and his attorney, the divorce proceedings moved along as smoothly as could be expected, especially when he was caught in a lie at his deposition about smashing my "prize" Tiffany lamps. Getting a formal separation agreement signed by the judge about two months after the papers were filed was a big deal for me because I was reluctant to fuck anyone else if it could come back on me, and I was getting really horny. With the separation signed by the judge, that was no longer an issue, and despite my lack of self-confidence I knew that I needed to get in the saddle again.

The Monday that the formal separation agreement was signed I was thinking about possible fuck buddies when Brian's name popped into my head. I dismissed him, however, because I couldn't believe that he was serious about wanting to get into my pants given the women he usually dated who were all younger and better looking than I was.

While still rolling around possible fuck buddies in my mind, I went to dinner at a nice little Bistro in town with Sherrie, a female friend of mine, on the Friday of the week that the separation agreement was signed by the judge. As we were eating our main course in walked Brian with a woman who looked like she had just stepped out of Cosmopolitan Magazine – only with bigger tits.

"Who's that guy?" my friend Sherrie asked with her eyes wide open.

"Cute, huh," I chuckled. "His name is Brian Winters. He's a player; that woman is an average date for him."

Sherrie spent the next few minutes talking about what she would like to do to Brian and what she would like him to do to her.

My distinctive infectious laugh at something that Sherrie had to say about Brian's cock quickly alternating between her pussy and asshole apparently caught Brian's attention. He looked around, saw me, said something to his date, and quickly came over to our table.

"Hi Amy," he enthusiastically said bending over and giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. "I meant to call you this week – I heard through the grapevine that you may be on your way to a divorce."

Sherrie kicked me under the table. "Uh, yeah, Brian. By the way this is my friend, Sherrie."

Brian barely acknowledged Sherrie but did smile at her and said "Hi." After his quick "Hi" he immediately returned his attention to me. "Well is the rumor true?"

"Yes it is, Brian; I'm legally separated as of Monday."

"Why didn't you call me? I thought that we had a deal," he said with a big enthusiastic smile.

"Well, I didn't know if you were serious..." I started to protest.

"I've never been more serious. If you're available tomorrow night I can cancel my plans."

"Uh...OK," I meekly replied, suddenly feeling my pussy leaking and my face getting flushed.

"Great – let me have your cell number and I'll call you tomorrow."

I wrote my cell phone number on a napkin – I hoped that my hand wasn't shaking – got another smile and kiss on the cheek from Brian, and he returned to his miffed date.

"You bitch," Sherrie giggled as soon as Brian was out of earshot. "You didn't tell me that he had the hots for you."

"Uh...well...uh," I stammered, "I don't know whether he does or not."

"I have to tell you, he does. I could tell just by his body language and the look on his face while you were writing down you cell phone number."

We eventually changed the subject, finished dinner before Brian and his still-miffed date got served their main course, and took off. "You lucky bitch," were Sherrie's last words to me.

I barely got to sleep that night thinking about tomorrow – hoping that I wasn't going to be disappointed. When Brian called at nine a. m. the next day, I figured that I probably would not be disappointed.

"Hi Brian – you're up early on this Saturday morn," I said with a lilt in my voice when I saw his name on the caller I. D.

"I was thinking about you," he chuckled.

"You bullshitter," I chuckled back. "I'm sure that you were too busy with your DD date to even think about me.

"After she saw me at your table, she wasn't particularly warm and fuzzy last night," Brian cackled.

"Sorry," I replied.

"Not a problem – she was plastic, not effervescent like you are. So what about tonight? Where can we go for a drink?"

"Uh – well – I was thinking. Do you have any wine at your house?" I sheepishly asked.

"Uh...sure. Want to meet here?"

"Yes, I would. What time would it be good for me to come by?"

"How about right now?" he excitedly said.

"Uh, no, tonight," I laughed. "How about 6:30?"

"See you then; do you have my address and directions?"

************************

I spent the rest of the day pampering myself. I had felt so shitty and inadequate as a result of Alan's cheating that I really needed to do something to prop myself up. A day at the spa where I got deep muscle therapy, a sugar foot scrub, a ninety minute full body massage, and a facial, lifted my spirits enormously. After I shaved and showered, I was ready for my evening of hope – hoping that it would return me to feeling sexy and confident. I saw no reason to wear any makeup except for light lipstick and eye shadow, nor any reason to wear any clothes except for a sundress.

I didn't really know specifically what Brian did for a living or how successful he was, so I was a little surprised at the upscale neighborhood that his condo was located in. Brian looked great when he answered his heavy decorative walnut front door. "Hi there, sexy; you're sure looking good," were his initial comments as he held my hand and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

"Flattery will get you anywhere," was my unoriginal but honest reply.

Brian was a dynamo in getting me a glass of wine, pulling a few simple hors-d'oeuvres out of the oven, and making sure that I was comfortably seated in his plush living room. I felt pampered, yet anxious. There really was only one thing on my mind; so after the third time that he asked if I was comfortable I stood up and walked over and sat next to him.

"Brian, you don't need to solicit my good will. I am the surest thing that you have ever had. I have to be honest with you. Alan's cheating has made me feel inadequate and non-sexy; I'm hoping that you'll change that for me overnight." That was probably the boldest and most vulnerable statement that I had ever made in my life. I stared into Brian's eyes as I lightly stroked the side of his face.

I guess that my admission and gentle stroking released the animal in him. He quickly removed the wine glass from my hand, lifted me off the couch, and planted a lascivious kiss on my lips as his hands roamed over my entire body. Once he realized that I had no undergarments on he mumbled "Fuck yeah, fuck yeah," about ten times in a row as he lifted my arms up and broke his kiss only long enough to pull my sundress over my head.

The next thing that I knew I was on my ass on his couch as he was burying his tongue in my anxious pussy as he held my thighs apart with his hands. I swore a blue streak as he kept alternating his tongue and finger action on my clit and G-spot, occasionally pinching one of my puffy nipples. My first orgasm was intense. I screamed and pulled his hair – I hope that I didn't hurt him, but he sure didn't seem to mind.

As I was coming down from my first orgasm, through my bleary eyes I saw Brian stand and remove his clothes. When his boxers came off and his rock hard cock was exposed the bleariness left my eyes. "Let me have that fucking thing," I growled as I crawled off the couch, got on my knees and stuffed his cock into my mouth while I started massaging a heavy testicle with each hand. Brian bent over and played with my puffy nipples as I alternately tongued, stroked, and licked all three of his fantastic external sex organs. They were just the right size and texture for my purposes.

I let up when I thought that Brian was close to getting ready to blow; he pulled me up to my feet and then I jumped on him and wrapped my thighs around his waist and my hands around his neck. He held my ass up with one hand and used the other to align his dick and my pussy. When he penetrated me I let out an "ooooooooooooooohhh" and my nervous system caused me to spasm. After a few thrusts in that uncomfortable position he shuffled toward the couch and then almost pile drove me into the soft cushions. His cock was buried deeper than any in my experience.

The position that we were in on the couch was surprisingly comfortable and allowed me to buck back as Brian pistoned in and out of my pussy. When I started squeezing his cock with my Kegel exercises-enhanced strong pc muscles he almost instantly jettisoned rope after rope of cum into my pulsating cunt. Endorphins flooded my brain, my nervous system seemed like it was fried, and I let out a banshee scream before I collapsed.

Brian stroked into and out of my basically lifeless body for another few minutes while I gazed up at him through half-opened eyes. When he pulled out he laid next to me and pulled me tightly to him. After a few minutes he moved my face away from his chest, looked me in the eye and with a smile asked "What in the hell was that? Do you have a vice grips in your vagina?"

I simply giggled. "That was really fun, and just what I needed. Thank you so much, Brian."

"This must be a Bizarro world," he chuckled. "A sexy minx gives me the best fuck of my life and thanks me; what's next, is someone coming to the door to give me a million dollars?"

"Thanks for saying that, Brian, that's really nice of you," I replied convinced that he was just saying it to make me feel better. "Maybe I should leave now."

"You think you're just going to fuck me and then run out on me?" he fake snarled. "You're not leaving here until I inspect every inch of your fabulous body and fuck you until I can't get it up any more."

With that he lifted me up and carried me to his bed. As I lay there he inspected every inch of my body with his tongue, lips, fingers, and eyes, tickling, pinching, and poking, while I occasionally giggled and said "Stop it you pervert," although stopping him was the last thing I wanted to do. Finally he got this look in his eye as he was flicking my clit back and forth while I was trying to push his hand away and giggling.

"What?" I asked, noticing his expression.

"My little one-eyed friend is ready for some more pussy," he grinned widely. He wasted no time in burying his cock in one thrust as I lay on my back.

Brian was pumping like crazy, and I was squirming like a landed marlin, as a feeling of euphoria overcame me. I suddenly decided that I wanted to fuck him, so with a strength that I didn't know that I had I rolled him over so that I was on top without his cock leaving my cunt. Once on top I was in a frenzy as I bounced up and down on him while swearing and pinching his nipples. He grabbed ahold of both of my tits and bucked up as much as he could considering the pummeling that I was giving him. Just as another orgasm was overtaking me and I started squeezing his cock with my pc muscles I heard a loud grunt and my pussy was once again flooded with Brian's jism.