Consequences of an Affair Pt. 01

Keeping within the San Diego City speed limits, I drove my cheating wife to the airport. She was flying out to Mexico to meet with her lover of the last three months. As I drove, Connie commented on how much she liked the bay and the sea.

She chattered all the way, dizzy and ditsy as usual, with everything all about I, I, I... Me, Me, Me... I want, I want, I want... fuck-me, fuck-me, fuck-me... with no thoughts as to the consequences of her affair.

That wasn't the girl I married, 6 years ago, but she'd 'devolved' over the last 3 years of our marriage, as she picked up attitudes from her pack of divorced and swinging friends, plus stuff derived from her courses in Women's Studies at the University.

First she went into rationalizations, justifications and excuses mode:

She said, not looking at me, "Oh, Mike, I'm so sorry, I never meant you to find out about Jorje."

[Pronounce his name as 'Hore-Hay']

I growled, "Kinda hard to ignore, what with you and Jorje fucking all over the house, especially in the bedroom, every moment I was away on business. There was that time, 3 days ago, just before he flew back to Mexico. I caught you both in bed, fucking, and he didn't even stop humping into you. Plus he was waving a pistol, shooting a hole in the wall and calling me 'bendajo,' which I believe means 'fool' or 'asshole' or 'wimp' and 'mericon' which means 'queer'. Not armed and not wanting to risk a gunfight, I had to walk away from you both, as he continued to screw you bareback in our bed."

Bitterly, I added, "I'm only taking you to the airport to stop the constant talk of 'Jorje-this' and 'Jorje-that.' It's long past time for a 'good-bye,' Connie.

Still wound up still in herself, Connie said, "Mike, I never thought you were a wimp or queer, just sort-of too submissive to me, too 'vanilla'. You were always trying to please me, so I had to break away from you for a little sexy vacation; you can understand that.

And.

"The Wedding Certificate, oh, it's just a piece of paper. Wedding vows, just empty words that no one remembers now."

And.

"It was all just flirting and sexy talk, until he slipped his finger in my pussy and I went a little crazy and then..."

And.

"I have to get this little fling out of my system, that's all. It's just some recreational sex, honey."

And.

"He had such a big cock, and it went in so far, deep into my womb, so I just had to fuck him, you can understand that, can't you?"

And.

"He was so huge and romantic and sexy, I had to have him inside. It was like a big, dark cloud came over me."

And.

"I love you, but right now, I'm not in love with you!"

Then Connie shifted into modern feminist marriage-destruction mode:

"After all, it's my body, and I can decide to use it anyway I please."

And.

"My body, my choice. I need to re-connect with my inner sexual female Goddess, you can recognize that, can't you?"

And.

"I need to 'find myself.' "

And.

"I deserve a little excitement, a little danger in my boring suburban life, you can see that."

And.

"Monogamy is a relatively modern concept. A woman's body is designed to please several men, not just one."

And.

"No one man can totally satisfy me, now that I know I'm truly liberated from obsolete conventional social mores."

And.

"This will spice-up our married life, you'll see."

And.

She twisted the 'knife'—the one embedded in my heart—a little more, as she said, "When this 'fling' is all over, in a few months—a year at most—I'll come back home and we can just forget about it and get on with our lives."

I'm not sure she even heard me, as I quietly said, "No, Connie. There is no 'home' now. No 'coming back' or 'forgetting'. This is forever."

I added, sadly, "Your mind and spirit are on a different planet. You're being used and you don't even know it."

How a college-educated, early-middle-aged woman, soon to be an ex-wife, believed that she could say and do such things and still have a wedded relationship, a home and a loving husband is beyond my comprehension. Self-delusion at it's most blatant.

I pulled up at the terminal to AeroMexico flights. Getting her bags out of the car, I give her the copy of Cosmopolitan magazine, the most recent one she'd not read yet. I said, "Here is something to read on the flight, Connie. I've put an envelope at one of the articles. It's got some other important information for you to read on the plane."

It hardly made an impression, as she stuffed the magazine-and-envelope in her carry-on bag, then fumbled with her suitcase and purse. I got a chaste, fleeting kiss on the cheek as she turned to make her way into the terminal.

I knew she wouldn't look at her magazine or the documents in the envelope until she was well on her way to Guadalajara, Mexico.

I drove away from the terminal, then up Harbor Drive and into Roseville, below Point Loma. Entering the post office there, I mailed the dated-for-today, pre-notarized application for Dissolution of Marriage, Non-Respondent, along with a postal money order for the required fee. While it would probably take up to a year to process, I was effectively a free, single man the moment my cheating, new-liberated wife had taken off from the Lindbergh Airport Terminal in San Diego, California, USA.

Connie's copy of the divorce application was in the envelope I left, stuck in a random article of the magazine I'd given her, along with the other documents. I knew that Connie wouldn't find it or the other items for another couple of hours, until well into her flight. Nor could she fight it or even respond to it from her unknown location in Mexico.

Four hours or so later, she'd be in the arms of her lover, Jorje Martinez (a mid-level drug dealer, within a Mexican cartel) and beginning the first stage in her up-coming journey to 'find herself' and seek 'a little danger, a little excitement' in her so-boring suburban American life.

I didn't wish her well. Nor did I wish her evil. I didn't wish anything about her at all, as I started on my no-longer-married life.

Sitting in the parking lot of the post office, I turned off my cell-phone and took out the battery, switching to the burner-phone I'd bought a couple of weeks ago. Connie would be out of communication with me until she was well-embedded in her new life.

The two credit cards in her name only would remain funded, as I'd paid off all her balances, then placed half our checking and savings on those cards, as a large surplus. I'd left a brief note about this, which went into the envelope she carried onto the aircraft. But, I'd taken her name off all my other credit and debit cards, taken her off my life-insurance policy. Etc. Doing all the other financial things that newly-divorced husbands do when their wives leave them for their lovers.

She obviously didn't need or want me any more.

The house and the car had to go, too, as they were 'contaminated' with her and her lover's sex-juices and spilled alcohol, plus a 'psychic-stench' that only I could smell.

This was Wednesday. Next, I called Ling.

I. H. Ling, realtor, had a small but luxurious office just up the street from Rosecrans Drive, going up the canyon road to the residential area of Fleetridge. I got Ling's receptionist, Janice, and was passed through immediately.

"Hi, Mike," she said, as I settled into the deep, soft chair she reserved for special visitors, which placed my head on a level with hers. She sat across from me, in a luxurious, well-padded wheelchair, so she could pivot from her customer to her desk and back. She was dressed in a semi-Asian, full-cover silk outfit, which, I noted immediately, had been modified to fit her tiny figure and her lack of legs, just above where her knees would have been.

Ling, never one to make small talk, just giggled and said, "Naughty boy, you're looking at my legs again. Slender Chinese legs, tanned a golden brown. Just no knees, calves, ankles or feet. Hot, sensitive thighs, too. Wanna see my new tattoo?"

Not waiting, she pulled up her hem and showed off the little scarlet heart, tattooed on her left inner thigh... up near her hip. She also showed me her furless, bare pussy lips.

It wasn't an accident.

I looked at her thighs, ignoring the abrupt ending just above where her knees would have been. Moving my gaze up a couple inches, I also looked at her womanly slit, which she presented to me, bare of hair and a little swollen.

I said, "Your tattoo is pretty but I think your legs are prettier and your pussy is the best. Can I touch?"

She giggled, saying, "You can look, touch, lick, kiss, suck, penetrate, fuck and use my pussy, about anytime you want—unless I'm working—now that you're free."

She added, "You are free, aren't you?"

As I stroked her thigh, then moved to her pussy opening, hearing her moan in pleasure, there in her private office, I answered, "Yeah, I'm free. I mailed the divorce papers plus payment fee about half-an-hour ago. Connie has a copy, in an envelope with her carry-on bag."

"She has information about the big surplus on both of her credit cards, but also about the non-respondent divorce, the pending sale of the house and the coming sale of the car. I also included an article I came across in Literotica, by a guy called TheKeith, titled Open Letter About Flings, which described what she did to me—and to herself—in a lot better detail that I could speak it."

"Not that Connie was listening to me or hearing anything I said. You know she cut me off from sex for the last month, while she was 'saving herself' for Jorje, her lover. She had sex with him all over our house and in our bed, these last three weeks."

Ling triggered her intercom with her free hand, asking her secretary -receptionist to look up that Literotica reference. Her other hand was holding my head against her pussy, as I lapped at her now-wet pussy.

I did say I was on my knees, didn't I?

I was treated to a series of moans, squeals, sighs and orgasmic grunts as my lips and tongue ravaged her opening walls and clit. In a few minutes, Janice, her secretary, came in to the office, and guiding herself by the desk edge, dropped a fresh printout of the article on Ling's desk.

Janice asked, "Is he doing sex with you? Can I stay and listen? Touch? Taste? Please? It's been so long."

Ling gasped out, "Hell, yes, little girl, you can listen all you want. You can touch and lick, too. He's single, as of about an hour ago. Close up the office. I don't have any more appointments and the answering machine is on, isn't it? Let's have some fun."

Completely unexpected, Janice—blind since about age two—had her top off in a twinkling and her pants-suit down off her waist and legs an instant later. She wore no bra or panties, just like her boss, Ling. She had no pubic hair at all. She had small, pointed boobs, like her boss, as well. I suddenly and unexpectedly had four boobs and two bare pussies to touch and feel or lick.

Which I did.

I'd never touched Janice before, as she always seemed so efficient and conservative. Well, she wasn't, I just discovered, as she knelt down, unzipped my pants, pulled out my hardened cock and had me in her mouth, all within about 14 seconds. Even Ling was impressed, as my whole shaft, not small, disappeared in her mouth and throat, as she sucked and slurped, while fingering her pussy and clit with squishy-sounds. Plus moaning and humming.

Ling had to grab my shaft and literally pull it out of her secretary's mouth, with a 'plopping' sound, so she could kiss and mouth it.

Ling, too, was nude; when did that happen?

I did say I was on my feet now, pants down around my ankles, didn't I? I was treated to two sets of mouths, both simultaneously sucking on the head of my cock and on each other. I barely lasted 5 minutes, until I tried to warn them I was going to erupt.

Which did no good, as they just increased the tempo of their tongues on my glans, while I shouted and came into them both. They shunted my spurting cockered back and forth from one mouth to the other.

As I collapsed back onto the office chair, I watched in amazement as both women—one partly legless and the other blind—sucked on each other's mouths and cleaned out all traces of my semen. Then they kissed for a little longer, just for fun.

I gasped out, "Uh, ladies, I didn't plan on this, but, uh, it was very nice and I'd really like to, uh, again, uh..."

Before I could stutter out any more, Ling said, "This was just the first time, Mike. We'll play a lot more, later. Janice, I know you're on your period, so I'll keep him happy until you don't flow. Then you can have him, here at the office, on the couch, over at your place or at my house... wherever."

Janice giggled, playing with her boobs and tugging on her nipples.

"But," she went on, back in 'realtor mode,' "in the meantime, what are you gonna do, right now, Mike? When you first contacted me, back about a month ago, all you wanted was to begin the process of selling your house, just as soon as your wife had left."

"How did you know she'd actually leave?"

"Because," I answered, "that's all she talked about, the last month, as she fucked with her lover. One 'leaving-you-to-be-with-my-lover' fantasy after another. She couldn't wait to leave home and fuck with 'him.' But she wanted her 'cake and eat it too' as she also fantasized about coming back home in a vague 'couple of months, a year at most' and then starting over with me, pretty much as a male slave, with her as a Sexual Goddess to be worshiped with my submission to her."

Still naked, I said, "OK, first I'll need a place to stay for a few days, probably a local motel. I don't want to sleep overnight anymore in anyplace that Connie and Jorje had fucked, which was all over our house and in our bed, when I was out of town. I faked most of those trips, to keep from having to spend any more time with my openly cheating wife than I had to."

"I don't think she even noticed."

I continued, "Hopefully, you can find us a cleaning crew and a good set of folks to move and take used furniture out of the house. All of Connie's stuff is 'contaminated' so it can all go in the trash. I just want to start over fresh, so all of my old stuff can go to the recycle bins, too."

"She's on her way to Mexico, as of about half an hour ago, so we can clear out the house and then you can 'stage' it and get the sale on. The sooner the better, within my price range."

Ling laughed, watching Janice pull her clothes on and then 'helping' me get my pants up, zipped and belt tightened. 'Helped' because she worked on me with her tongue and lips as much as with her hands and fingers.

"Good luck finding a motel or hotel, what with the Comic-Con convention in town. I know that just about every place is booked solid for miles around. Ditto for car rentals."

Then, with an evil grin, Ling said, 'So, big guy, I think you'd better live with me at my place. When Janice is off her period, we can both see to your... 'rehabilitation' as a single man."

I just nodded, a silly grin on my face.

It took only a few minutes to close the office. Janice gave me a good, long, deep kiss, then started her blind woman's walk, tap-tapping with her white cane, to her little place, about half a block up from the realty office.

Ling took me to her home.

END OF PART 1