The Plan

But the audience is very kind and the whole thing is more fun for me than I had anticipated. My old band had mainly served as acoustical background for parties and other events and this is my first real appearance in front of a dedicated audience. My stage fright vanishes quicker than I had feared, I relax and get into the mood just like my audience seems to do. Yeah, this is fun. After a few encores and a generous final applause, I sit contently at the bar and chat with a few people, enjoying the relaxed mood and the free drinks.

Due to my smaller gigs in various clubs I never had a shortage of female companions during the two years since the sudden amputation of Laura from my life and the subsequent divorce. And like many amputations this one also left some phantom pain behind. I have no intention to start a serious relationship again. Been there, done that, endured the pain. I never want to put myself into a position that makes myself that vulnerable again. No sense in offering my throat to the big, bad female wolves out there. The grand finale of my marriage has hurt me enough for a life time.

"Long time no see." As if on cue, a familiar voice addresses me. Laura. Damn. Do I want to turn around to face her? No, but I'd feel like a chicken if I didn't. And honestly, I hope I've gotten over her enough to face her without embarrassing myself. Time to test how much I've succeeded in this. So I turn around without much enthusiasm to face the only woman I've ever really loved.

"Hi Laura." I try to sound calm and relaxed but she knows me so well and I don't know if I've succeeded. My hands tremble slightly and I hope she doesn't notice it. God, is she beautiful. Elation and pain manage to enter my brain simultaneously. I'm surprised to see that she has dyed her hair. With completely black hair instead of her usual blonde, she looks just as breathtaking. I have no real preference regarding hair color anyway, but for some reason I'm glad to see that she hasn't cut it.

"You're still willing to talk to me?" She seems genuinely surprised and delighted. What has she expected? That I run away? That I get violent? That's ridiculous, she should know me better than this.

"Yes, of course. We're not married any more. The table is cleared." I try to sound more noninvolved than I actually feel.

"No emotion for me any more?"

"Cutting right to the chase, are you? Still the lawyer. Well, I still have a lot of feelings when I think about you. I really loved you, I cried a lot, I cursed a lot, I was despaired. But I eventually got over my mourning period."

"What a bitch I've been. Sorry. I've really been stuck in this damn career thing and tried to separate it from you. I'm so sorry how much I've hurt you. Anyway, you look good. I like the new hair style and the new muscles. Although you never had a shortage of those."

"Thanks. You're as beautiful as ever. I see you're wearing a ring."

"Yes, I married Mercer."

"I see." I try to hide my surprise and disappointment, probably not very successfully so.

"You look surprised." Definitely not successful.

"Yeah, didn't you say you didn't love him?" Not that it's any of my business, but this turn of events is really bizarre and unexpected.

"That's right." She certainly knows that this doesn't make the slightest trace of sense to me, but she doesn't seem to be in the mood to explain and I don't want to appear too interested by asking. "And what about you? I see no ring. Still single?"

"Well, I'm a musician and I'm a big guy. Women seem to appreciate both, so I'm not exactly lonely most nights. But I guess I'm still a little gun shy when it comes to serious relationships. I'm kind of damaged goods."

"Oh, sorry to hear that. I always thought you were the gentlest, caring and vulnerable man I've ever known. So unassuming, with such a charming, self-depreciating humor. I've really beaten myself for damaging this male miracle."

"Don't worry. I think I haven't changed too much. I'm still the gentle loser. I was kind of numb for a few weeks and have wallowed in self-pity, but I've recovered eventually. I don't want to complain too much, my life is quite okay now."

"Really? Glad to hear that." She really seems relieved. She's silent for a few seconds and it almost seems like she's gathering her courage. Which is quite unusual, she always was the most self-confident and straight forward woman I have ever met. "You still find me physically attractive?"

Whoa, that came out of nowhere. But it's an interesting question. So let's see - her face is as classical beautiful as ever. Her body is tall and slim, her boobs seem to be roughly the same size as ever. I am for some reason glad she didn't get herself the boob job she had talked about from time to time. She had always frowned on my objections about it and I had assumed she would get it as soon as we were separated. I'm just surprised that this fact still affects me.

"You're still a total knockout." No sense in lying or beating about the bush, it is obvious anyway. I think every guy around is staring at her with varying levels of bluntness.

She immediately beams. Damn, that killer smile makes her even more irresistible. Whatever happens here - I'm not sure I like it or need it. "Tom, I'm glad you still like me. No, that you still like my body."

"Right."

"So you think I'm showing too much cleavage tonight?"

She's wearing a suit and looks as sharp as ever. High CFMs, a shorter skirt than usual, a blazer with seemingly nothing underneath. If she leans forward a little, like she does now, one can see a lot of boob. I take my time to survey the situation while she waits patiently. Yes, she looks sexy. And damn, the way she offers herself is erotic as hell.

"No, it looks hot. If you still were my wife, I'd be worried. But as you're not, it's just hot."

"I'm glad you like it. What about my shoes?"

She stands up to show me her feet. The shoes are so high that her shins form a perfect straight line with her feet. The heels are slim and elegant, her legs look perfect. Her toes are not a squashed mass, as you see it too often in such high heels. No, her shoes, feet and legs are the wet dream of any foot-fetishist. I'm none of those, but they don't fail to arouse me nonetheless.

"Just perfect."

"Great. You like it when the front is one straight line, right?"

"Yes." I have to gulp hard. It looks incredibly sexy.

"What about my skirt? Is it too short?"

The skirt barely covers her fabulous looking ass. The top of her stockings are just visible. This is condensed sex appeal.

"Looks good to me." I'm barely able to croak this understatement. Damn, why does she still have this effect on me? Because she's plain hot, that's why. She has this effect on every man present, I think. This is not a sign of any special connection between us. Relax, Tom, this is just a hot woman acting a little slutty and testing your hormone production capacity.

"What if I sit down?" And she does exactly that on the bar stool. "Is this too revealing?"

Her skirt has ridden upwards and her slightly spread legs reveal that she wears no panties and is still shaving her pussy completely. She's totally oblivious of the people around us and so am I. This is just about me and this hot lady.

"Looks good," I manage to wheeze. The truth is that my dick is busy doing material testing on the zipper.

She grabs my collar and drags me towards her. I offer no resistance - even if I wanted, I physically can't. And I don't even have decided if I want to. Her head is tilted slightly, her eyes are closed and her mouth is slightly opened. This is an invitation to a kiss that couldn't be more blatant.

Stop this, Tom. What do I want? Does she still have a grip on my heart? No. At least I hope that she doesn't. I try to regard her as some attractive woman offering herself to me, not a woman I love and that can hurt me. I hope I'm emotionally cool about her, but my body reacts as hell. So am I averse to using her? No, why should I? She is by far the hottest piece of ass in here. So I lean down to kiss her. She responds immediately by moaning and pulling me towards her viciously. It is also not beneath her to grab my package through my trousers and start to massage it in public. Something she wouldn't have done if being threatened by a gun in the past. It is as unlike old Laura as her earlier exhibitionism is. I don't care about her motivation and continue to test her limits by reaching into her cleavage to start fondling her tits. To my surprise, she doesn't object at all. If any, she pushes her boobs further into my hands.

"Hey buddy, get a room, okay," the bartender advises me, grinning.

"He's right, Tom. I have a room across the street."

"Stop, we can't so this. You're married," is what I should say. But I don't, because I couldn't care less. This is the woman that has cheated on me. If I fuck her, I would cuckold the man that has done the same to me. Why shall I feel an obligation to respect their marriage? So I keep my mouth shut and so does she as we walk in determined silence towards her room.

Once inside, my beautiful ex-wife immediately starts to perform a sensual striptease to some imaginary music while I sit gawking in a chair. This is a first - at least with me as an audience - and I am definitely not about to complain. First she unbuttons her blazer, plays a little with it - and with me - by opening it slightly and closing it again and finally throws it onto the desk, revealing her magnificent boobs completely. Yes, they definitely are the same, still unmarred by some boob job.

She is topless now and looks incredibly hot while slowly starting to push her skirt downwards. The striptease ends way too soon because she apparently only has two items to lose. She never touches her nylons nor her heels, which is perfect.

Slowly and seductively she saunters towards me, looks me in the eyes and drops to her knees. I'm still stunned while she unbuckles my trousers, fishes out my already erect cock and gulps it down without further ado. She has never deep-throated me before and to say I'm amazed would be a gross understatement. While her lips are firmly resting on my belly, she looks into my eyes and winks. This almost causes me to spontaneously erupt into her mouth. She continues to calmly blow me while reaching into my pocket and fishing out my mobile phone for some mysterious reason. This is weird. I'm getting deep-throated by my ex-wife, which is surprising enough. But why is she using my phone right now? Even under the premise that it's impossible to fully understand women, this is weird.

She finally extracts my dick from her mouth, types in my lock code - I realize it is still the same as a few years ago - and starts the camera app.

"Maybe you'd like a keepsake. I've never done this for any man before." And she gulps down my dick completely again, still looking into my eyes while she hands me the phone. I oblige by taking some photos of the winking and seemingly happy beauty on my dick. Wow, what a change in this woman. Enough to make me want her again? Yes, enough to make me want to fuck her. Not enough to make me want the complete package, including emotional involvement and the prospect to get hurt again. I'm horny, but not completely brain dead.

"Okay, if I may suggest something?"

What? Is that Laura speaking? Asking for permission to suggest something? That's far up on the weirdness scale again.

"Go ahead."

"Fuck me doggy style. Use my cunt. And then take my anal virginity. I have lubricant in my bag. Don't use a condom. Don't worry, I'm clean and on the pill. Take photos of everything."

"Why do you do this?" This is a little over the top, she's obviously following some kind of plan. I feel like I'm being manipulated and it turns me off a little.

"It seems the right thing to do. Enjoy."

And that's what I do. I come in her mouth (a first for me) and take some photos of her swallowing my load. She claims that no man has ever done that before. I certainly haven't. After she has revived my dick with her mouth, I fuck her pussy (taking more photos, including her smiling face) and carefully take her ass (again a first, documented by more photos).

She wants to cuddle and kiss me like crazy afterwards, even shedding some tears. I feel like an uncaring asshole, but I force myself to feel and act relaxed and unaffected. Despite everything that has just happened, I still feel the need to protect myself emotionally. In contrast to Laura, the usually cool and controlled lawyer, who is extremely sentimental.

"Thank you, Tom. That was marvelous."

"My pleasure. Best sex I've had for quite a while." I feel definitely totally - well - ambiguous towards her. But that's no problem, I don't need to make up my mind. There's no need to come to any kind of conclusion, we won't be a couple again anyway.

"Same here. I should have given you that before. You can have it any time, you know? My phone number is still the same. By the way, here's my phone. I'm going to use the bathroom for maybe half an hour."

She hands me her unlocked phone and disappears. Weird. What's going on here? Am I supposed to call someone after the best sex in a long time? "Hey mum, I've finally fucked Laura's ass!" No, I don't think so, the idea doesn't seem appealing. I take a puzzled look at her phone and see that the contacts are open with Ted Mercer's name on top of the list. He isn't stored as "Hubby", "Darling" or even "Teddy". He is named "Mercer". That's cold and a little surprising. Does she want to tell me something by showing me this? That she's not emotionally involved with him? Why should I care what kind of marriage they have? Then I scroll the list and realize that he isn't even on top of her favorites. He is actually on position two, right under a guy named "Tom". The whole night just keeps getting weirder and weirder. I feel passive and manipulated, like I'm walking into a trap, being led by my dick. Somehow the recent changes in my life seem to happen way too fast, I haven't yet managed to get my head around the new developments. But I have to admit, as yet the decisions she has made for me haven't been entirely unpleasant.

I suddenly have this idea. I mean, Mercer has cuckolded me, destroying my marriage. And I have a fresh set of photos, showing me cuckolding him. Should I send them to him? Would that be childish? Would this kind of revenge be too cheap? Below me? Not my style? Would I hurt Laura by doing it? Do I care? His number is displayed clearly. I decide to just copy his number to my phone and think about it later.

Laura re-appears a surprisingly long time afterwards and seems to be quite happy and relaxed. She's almost glowing, to be more precise. I hope for her that she doesn't get her hopes up too high.

"You had fun, Tom?"

"Oh, yeah, it was marvelous." She looks at me with a strange expression. What's going on here? Isn't she talking about the sex? Again I feel like I'm not at the front of the events.

"Same for me. Tom, if you need to do anything that makes you feel better, don't hesitate to do it. And never feel bad about it."

What is she talking about? Having sex with her again? Or sending the photos to her husband?

"You're talking about sex?"

"Yes, among other things. Do what you want to do, you deserve it. If you need me, just call me. No strings attached."

"Well, okay." I really don't know what else to say. To make a more profound statement, I'd need to know what exactly we're talking about and what's going on. I usually don't feel that dense, but I remember that Laura had this effect on me in the past too. My solution had always been to just trust her. Her planning had always been to my benefit, so I was content to just lean back and relax. But of course, blindly trusting her like I did when we were married is out of the question now.

While I'm still lost in those thoughts, she just kisses me, dresses and leaves the room. I imagine to see a tear leaving her eye. Weird. Even more weirdly, I'm slightly disappointed to see her leave. I hope this is just because she is such an incredibly good fuck buddy.

xx

I spend two whole days thinking about Mercer, Laura and the photos before I finally do it. Okay, it was a foregone conclusion anyway, it was just too tempting. I think I just had to hem and haw a little to make me feel like a good guy that is at least pondering the moral implications. I send the asshole a few photos, some kind of best-of collection. Of me being deep-throated, me coming in her mouth, me fucking her ass. Yes, it is childish, but it feels good and that's what matters. Mercer has always been a little condescending towards me on the rare occasion we had met, obviously regarding me as some kind of useless artist-bum. And he has destroyed my marriage without having paid anything for it. These photos seem like a small payback at least. But to be honest, sending them feels better than I've expected. It actually feels great. I feel elated and almost giddy afterwards. I feel like finally things have been evened out at least a little. It feels good not to be the good, responsible guy for once. To not always be on the receiving side. To not be the gentle, understanding, reasonable guy.

An hour later Laura calls me. I take the call, expecting a furious dragon spitting fire through the phone, incinerating my left ear.

"Hi Tom." Surprisingly, she sounds pleasant and calm.

"Hey Laura."

"You've done it." Just a statement, no accusation.

"Yeah." Should I say I'm sorry? No, I decide against it. She has handed me the axe and I have dropped it. It would be a lie anyway, I'm definitely not sorry.

"Good."

"Good? That's no problem for you?"

"No, not at all. I think you were entitled to do this."

"Oh." Again, I feel like I'm missing something important here.

"You feel better now?"

"Yes. To be honest, I do."

"Great. You know, Mercer has more or less forced me into the affair."

She calls her husband "Mercer"? I briefly wonder how they talk at home. "Mercer, can you please take out the trash?" The thought almost makes me laugh.

"He was my boss. Still is, by the way. No. He was, until a few minutes ago." She actually giggles. Amazing. "Well, however, he forced me to do it if I wanted to get ahead in my job. The alternative would have been to quit and become a nobody in some other firm without prospects and that thought just killed me. I felt like I had to provide for us and our potential kids. And of course, I was ambitious. He offered to get me into the major league, but only by paying for it on my back. It nearly killed me, but I foolishly let myself be forced into this. I feared that my life would be shitty if I couldn't bring myself to make this sacrifice. It felt like a big decision point in my life, either to get ahead or to fail miserably. I wrongly convinced myself that it was just a rational business decision. Problem is, I had to close myself emotionally and sexually for you while he was beginning to pester me. It would have been unbearable to soil you with his presence, you are too precious for me to do that. Of course, looking at it now, it was no business decision at all. This has destroyed our marriage and I'm as guilty as he is. I should just have quit the damn job. But no, I allowed him to cuckold you and to destroy something wonderful. I've lost you, and rightfully so. I thought I was in control, but I totally fucked things up. Boy, have I come to my senses meanwhile. So a big part of the guilt was on me and I was punished plenty for it, losing the only man I've ever loved. But I couldn't let him get away unpunished."

"So today was his punishment?" She has planned the whole thing. Again, I've been manipulated, but in a good way, like it usually has been the case during our marriage. She has obviously planned this to make me feel better. I can't help but respect her for that.