Mobility Ch. 00

PROLOGUE:

"What was I doing in an adult toy store?" I asked myself, grinning, as I hefted the container of expensive sex-lube. Cymrick Beckham didn't need porn. Married to the hottest wife in town, what need did I have for DVDs of other folks having commercial sex?

Nevertheless, smiling like many another man, I let my eye scan along the racy, sexy titles of the lurid video offerings.

One in particular caught my eye, titled 'DON'T LET MY HUSBAND FIND OUT.' I stooped down, grinning, to look closer at the naked milf portrayed on the disk's cover. She had a big cock in her mouth, one in her cunt and another in her ass, and was holding a fourth cock, apparently ready to jerk-off the owner, who had already cum across her tits and face. I grinned at the absurdity, while I looked over the DVDs cover photo of this busy slut, who vaguely resembled my lady-wife.

Naturally, I looked down at her silken thighs, so well displayed ... and nearly dropped my sex-lube purchase.

There it was. A small but unique tattoo on the inside of her right thigh, high up near her now-exposed, bare-shaved pussy lips. Two simple, red hearts, with the single word 'our' tattooed above the hearts and 'slut' tattooed right below. To my knowledge, that simple tattoo belonged to only one woman, Mrs. Nadia Beckham, maiden-name Malikovski. My wife of the last 5 years.

Trembling, I bought 2 copies of the DVD, taking them home to view, knowing that my wife—that same porn starlet—was yet again working late, overnight, for her boss, Carlos, at her company's job, out in the industrial park, near Philadelphia. Yeah, sure, working late; probably fucking his brains out or entertaining a horny man for a new corporate contract.

I watched the whole set of performances, four times.

Yes, the woman gracing the cover of the porn DVD was my wife, as she self-identified herself in two of the scenes.

I watched the first at intervals, as I kept breaking off to go vomit in the bathroom, and during the second viewing, to jerk-off twice, due to all the sexy action.

The third viewing, and the fourth, I managed to put on my cool, calculating data-analytic skills (which is what I did for a living), and watched/re-watched for details, ignoring the fucking, cuckolding and the laughing betrayals.

I knew that our love and marriage was over; probably had been over for years and possibly her love for me had never really existed. Now I knew that her ACTIONS—not her lying words—showed that she didn't want/need me any more.

Scene Number 1: This encounter took place during our engagement, about 2 weeks before the wedding. As the scene started, I saw, in the background introduction of the video, a time, date and year display above a local bank. She did her sexing in her sisters's house and yard, with two of sister's boyfriends, laughing and joking about the clueless tiny-dick she was about to marry and was even now cheating upon, while she came repeatedly. Each of her lovers shot their loads into her body 3 times, and she even did sex with her sister, once, with a huge strap-on penis, taking it's length with apparent ease. No condoms were used, as she always demanded of me. Her single-heart tattoo was on her thigh, a souvenir of a former boyfriend, she said.

Scene Number 2: We were on our honeymoon to the Bahamas. At the moments of the video, I remembered I was out sunning myself on the beach, not more than a couple hundred yards from our hotel room. The clock-radio beside the bed, displayed on the video, showed the time, day and date of her adulterous sexing. Her soon-to-be boss, Carlos was 'co-starring' as her lover/fucker, banging her missionary-style, legs spread wide, in the same bed she'd sexed me that morning. Carlos didn't use a condom either. I remembered being especially disappointed when my newly-married Mrs. Beckham had to cut our nuptials short, to leave for her new job in Philadelphia. I was hurt and humiliated, watching the DVD, to find that my wife's new job would be as Carlos' part-time mistress, which would include whoring her out to various executives and sales people, to make and seal contracts for the corporation, which she gleefully anticipated. Our newly re-tattooed double-heart was displayed on her thigh, as she even held it up to the camera lens.

Scene Number 3: this was shot inside her expensive car and then in a hotel suite, with her boss and 8 executives. The clock on the car's dashboard display showed the day, date and time. Each man penetrated her three times (one did her four) for a total of 28 seminal loads shot deeply into her willing body. No condoms used. She was made 'airtight,' taking their thrusting cocks in her pussy, ass and mouth. When not sexing, she was seen and heard simultaneously laughing and joking about her wimp, cuckolded hubby and how little money he made. Her lovers made references to her making much more money for fucking to seal/keep contracts and to keep her pleasuring them. Again, she showed the doubled hearts on her thigh, often slimed with cum. The word 'slut' had been added to her hearts, just below them.

Scene Number 4: this was shot inside our condo living space, with my whore-wife having gang-bang sex in living room, kitchen and bedroom, with—to my count—15 men and 2 women. Again, no condoms were shown, as she was made airtight, often in bondage, tied to our bed. Besides the clock-radio showing the date and time, I observed the picture on wall, which I'd just hung there, attesting to the scene having taken place within the last month. Agin, she was seen and heard laughing about her poor, clueless hubby. She now displayed doubled hearts on her inner thigh, with added script above, stating 'our' to the existing 'slut' below.

Eventually, my prostitute-wife had to come home, where I angrily showed her the DVD and screen shots—full color—I'd made. Confronted, she made the usual excuses, rationalizations and justifications, including 'feminist' versions, getting more and more strident.

She started with the usual, "Oh, Honey, I'm so sorry. We have to talk. It was all a big mistake. I was being blackmailed. It was like a big, dark cloud came over me. You weren't ever supposed to find out."

This morphed into, "Oh, hell, it was just a few recreational fucks, you can understand that, can't you?"

Then she went on, becoming more aggressive and strident, saying, "You're just not big enough 'down there.' You don't 'measure-up.' I've got to have more cocks, younger than you, and with richer men."

Additional morphing into, "You don't own me. I'm not your slave. I can go out, dance, drink, do coke and have sex with whomever I want, whenever I want."

She climaxed by adding, "Now that I'm a truly liberated woman, I know that my body was evolved to please lots of men, not just your one little impotent penis. Now I'm getting rich, no thanks to you, and I'm doing it, getting fucked and pleasured by hordes of hot-sex pumping men, you looser!"

At last she screamed out that "no single man could ever satisfy her again, and that I had to accept her crumbs and leavings, or be stripped bare in a divorce court (run by women like her), to live in utter poverty for the rest of my life."

What else could be done? I left home, and, in a remarkable 30 days, was confronted by a Magistrate in Family Court. The judge, one Tatania Markova, though a feminist, was a no-nonsense woman, experienced in the legal thickets of divorce and lying spousal support demands.

Nadia reveled in the fact of having a woman judge, who, she assumed by gender, was 'on-her-side'. After the judge dealt with the 2 attorneys that Nadia brought from her company (at Carlo's expense), shunting them aside, my ex-wife-to-be settled into bragging as to the amounts of money she brought into her cheating life.

Under oath, she admitted making $100's for each $1 that I earned. Those monies, were given into her corporate checking account and stock options to her brokerage account, all in 'cash'. She finished her introduction, laughing about the relatively small paycheck for her data-analytic hubby, as opposed to her 'fabulous' wealth, just for using her woman's body with multiple men in hundreds of pleasurable ways, "just as would any fully-liberated woman".

Then, unexpectedly, the judge asked a series of specific, sharp 'yes/no' questions.

I replied to three questions, and revealed that I just wanted 'out,' only holding on to my savings and paychecks for myself, as I hadn't known I was marrying a prostitute. I stated that I didn't want the car or the condo or any portion of her 'earnings', as they had been 'sex-soiled' by my wife's whoring-for-payment in them.

The judge then demanded that Nadia reply, yes/no, to her next series of questions. Those questions became very specific, as my Nadia replied in an ever quieter tone of voice.

Then the judge said, still addressing Nadia, "There are no children involved, as your tubes are and were tied. So, in summary—with the exception of your being a well-paid prostitute for your corporation; being your boss' part-time mistress and he your corporate pimp from your shortened wedding honeymoon onward to now; and a sexual plaything-whore for upwards of 20 executives within your company, at their order, whim and payment—as depicted on the already-commercially-published DVD I now hold in my hand—you pledged to be a faithful and loving wife to a man you now declare as impotent, has a tiny penis and is not capable of satisfying you either sexually or financially. Is that correct?"

My ex-to-be replied inaudibly, but was made to respond in a clear, loud voice, "Yeah!"

Things happened at an incredible pace after that answer:

(1). The judge declared, on the basis of Nadia's testimony under oath and the DVD entered as evidence, that the divorce was granted, effective immediately.

(2). That my now-ex-wife, as the wealthy party, would bear the court costs of this divorce proceeding. The judge added, as an aside (though read into the record of the proceedings), that through the evidence of testimony and via the DVD, that neither love nor intended-faithfulness had ever been part of this marriage.

(3). Nadia to resume her 'maiden' name.

(4). My now ex-wife was also to place a sum equal to 10% of her current worth in an interest-bearing account, for me in my name, as my share, supporting her obvious whoring activities.

(5). My now ex-wife, screaming threats of kidnap, mutilation, castration and torture-murder, was, with her lead attorney, taken 'into chambers,' to emerge in half-an-hour, with both emerging white, sweating, trembling/fearful and quiet.

(6). I, on the other hand, along my my lawyer, was also taken into chambers, where the judge simply ordered me to strip naked.

My attorney conformed the seriousness of this strange order, as he described just how small a locator could be made and slipped into a wallet or shoe-heel plus how easy it was to install a GPS-keystroke-logger on my devices.

Within a minute, I was nude.

My clothes, phone, computer, wallet and even my backpack were taken from me, and I was given an ill-fitting set of working shorts, t-shirt and generic slippers, all attorney provided. The judge, Mrs. Titania Markova, looking at my nude 'junk,' archly remarked that I appeared to be neither impotent nor had a tiny penis, adding that, if she had been 'straight', I would have found myself repeatedly raped, right there in her chambers.

Although my attorney would never say, I wonder to this day what prompted his—and the judge's—demand. I think that they'd seen what another vindictive bitch, supported by a ruthless corporate entity, had done to a divorcing man.

He did tell me, later in a encrypted e-mail, that an electronic search had turned up over half-a-dozen locator transmitters in my clothes and devices. My computer and phone were similarly corrupted with locators and malware. Apparently, Nadia and her boss, Carlos, had 'dirty-tricks' access to some ruthless people, probably free-lance IT 'mercs,' under informal contract.

I was escorted down a set of hidden circular-staircase steps, into the sub-basement of the courthouse, there in Philadelphia. Walking to the light of a flashlight, we turned left and right, then up a simple flight of wooden stairs, to emerge in the employee's parking garage area. I was bundled into the back of a small crossover van, with darkly tinted windows. There to sit quietly until the car pulled out of the parking garage and out into a back street of the city. After a longish time, I was simply ejected onto the street of a small community, north and west of the city, next to a bicycle store.

I never saw Mrs. Titania Markova, lesbian-feminist-but-fair Magistrate Judge of Family Court in Philadelphia, ever again.

My basic identification restored (with a new wallet), I followed a hand-printed note, which had me take ownership of fat-tire, 3-wheel, recumbent touring tricycle, equipped with electric-assist drive. Payment already arranged. I was also given a debit card, water bottles, dark glasses, a bicyclist's crash helmet, a tarp, cheap sleeping-bag, ground-sheet, bug-net and some line. No cooking gear. No change of clothes.

The note further explained that my ex-wife's assets would be 'frozen' until the 10% amount was established, with the account number and debit card issued to me. I was advised not to draw upon it for at least 6 months and to wait longer if possible. My other credit cards were paid and canceled. All billings were transferred to my ex-wife, as she now owned the condo and car.

My current pay and savings were passed to me in a small, thick folder, composed of small and large bills, plus some gold coins, along with a flash-drive containing my personal computer files and reference works.

I had enough money for a eventual purchase of a new phone, laptop computer, backpack, solar re-charger and for 2 years worth of living expenses, separate from Nadia's 10% bounty (about a half-million, when I first accessed it, much later). My professional membership dues and journals paid for and held by my attorney.

Then I was advised to get aboard the tricycle and pedal away from the city and surrounding counties, never to return. I was further advised to travel on back roads (map provided for Pennsylvania and Ohio), to camp-out in 'stealth' mode for the first month, and use only medium or low-end, private, 'Mom-and-Pop' motels for infrequent bathing or in the event of bad weather.

I was provided with a fake-ID, made out to 'Ebenezer Wheellock' during my travels. I would be paying untraceable cash for all my purchases and needs.

Newly divorced from my prostitute ex-wife, but now in-hiding from her and her considerable extra-legal corporate assets, with adequate money to live simply, on-the-road for a year or so, I pedaled off onto a hiking/bicycling off-road dirt trail and out of my former life.

—END of PROLOGUE—