Yes I'm the Asshole

Yes, I'm the Asshole

by Tx Tall Tales ©

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...but not the cheater!

He's a real man, and he's not gonna take that kind of shit. Not from her, not from anyone.

Thanks to Patientlee for her review and input.

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Yeah, I'm the asshole. She cheats on me, takes all I have, publicly humiliates me, and I'm the asshole. I'm sure you've heard about me by now. I'm kind of famous in our circles. The asshole.

That's fair. Maybe I am. A little.

* * *

According to the latest statistics, more cheating is discovered because of cellphones than for any other reason.

I guess that makes me just one of the gang, huh?

It was her own fault. She kept harping on me to get her the new iPhone 5. I finally caved in. Then she needed to transfer everything to her new phone. I showed her how easy it was with the iCloud backup and restore.

She was very happy. And I'll be honest, Sheri made sure that when she was happy, I was happy. Very happy. 1:30 am, tanks drained, cock rubbed raw, achingly happy.

I guess that was the hardest part of it. I

was

happy, and I could swear she was as well. She was sure as hell affectionate enough. Touchy-feely, bragging on me, always available for a bit of the ol' in-out. I was proud. You know what I mean if you've ever had the undivided attention of a pretty woman.

That's why it hit me so hard.

She never hid her phone from me, we didn't put passwords on anything. I trusted her and she trusted me. She was right, I was wrong.

I had her old phone and was going to reset it to factory settings, when I realized we hadn't transferred her music to iTunes. The music doesn't transfer with the backup. Not much of a backup if you ask me, but there it is. I hit the wrong button on the front screen, and her text messages popped up.

Surprise, surprise, surprise.

Sheri, my loving wife, the future mother of my children, my partner in life, confidante, lover, best-friend, was fucking around on me.

No, the first text message didn't say that much. It was a strange name, just enough to get me curious. It was probably close to an hour later, and on the verge of a nervous breakdown, that I had the whole story.

Same ol' shit. Nothing new there. The second most common reason for cheating, according to those damn statistics. Facebook. Listed as one of the causes in over 52% of divorces. Make that 52.0001%.

Old boyfriend, sees her on Facebook, reconnects, comes to town, just wants to catch up, yada-yada-yada. One thing leads to another. Flirting, lunch, kissing, mattress testing.

Twice so far, from the looks of things. She appeared to be regretting the last one. Boo-hoo. The first one, no problem, cheat on your husband, get fucked bowlegged, no biggie, right? Just a walk down memory lane. Recapturing your youth. For some reason the second time she felt guilty. She thought they shouldn't get together any more. She was having second thoughts.

A little late for that, don't you think, wifey dearest?

I don't think my approach was wrong. Not at all. She was the cheater. I moved her shit out, and it was waiting boxed in the driveway when she got home. At least I was neat about it. Changed the locks. Moved the money. Closed out the credit cards. You know the drill.

Hell, it was my house when we got married three years earlier. I didn't want the bitch there. She had her car, her stuff.

The stupid bitch was all "Waaah! I'm sorry! Waaah! It didn't mean anything. Waah! Forgive me, give me another chance."

Right. I know statistics. Once a cheater always a cheater. The scary part was that she was so good at it. I had no clue whatsoever. I knew I could never trust her again.

To hear everyone else,

I

was the asshole. She loved me, it was a mistake, I should overlook it, take her back, get some great makeup sex.

Right. Like that was going to happen. Fuckers wanted me to be a happy cuckold. No real man would put up with that shit. No way!

I mean,

everyone

was on her side. My parents, all our siblings, our friends, distant relatives, neighbors, my co-workers, even my boss. What the fuck! She cheats and I'm the bad guy!

The only ones who didn't get on my case, were her parents, and that, only because they'd been in the ground for almost 10 years. Sometimes I thought I heard them whispering to me at night to take her back. Fuck!

"She's devastated," I was told. "Never meant for it to happen." "He seduced her." "She loves you." "Depression." "Seeing a counselor." Lots more of that shit.

I get it. She's sweet as saccharine. Not a cruel bone in her body. Always there to help anyone in need. An open book, wears her heart on her sleeve. You know all the damn clichés. That's my Sheri.

Well, I'm sorry. Sue me, I believe in fidelity. If you're single, that's one thing, hell even if you're dating or engaged, but once you're married, and you've made those vows, no more fucking around. Is that so unreasonable?

I guess everyone else thought so, including our lawyers and the judge. 50/50 split, even though I brought everything into the marriage, earned all the income, and she did nothing! We didn't have kids, she didn't even have to keep house, we had a maid crew come by once a week. We ate out more than we ate in. I guess none of that matters. Fairness isn't a concern with the law. She got half the house, I had to sell it, took a beating, and paid her $23K of the proceedings. Half of the savings, the checking, fuck, even my 401K. I had to buy her out of my own fucking retirement plan, started 3 years before I even met her!

She cried, told me none of it was her idea, she was letting her brother and the lawyers fuck me raw. Ok, that's not exactly how she said it, but pretty damn close. They estimated my gun collection at over $100K. I don't think I'd paid $10K for all of it, but apparently my grandfather's pair of fully automatic licensed AK47s are worth a ton of change. I had to sell one, just to give her the money. My fuckin' grandfather's inheritance. Her reward for cheating on me.

In the end I was raped and left bleeding. She cheated on me for months, seriously, two months. Once at the end of May, and again in April. Damn slut. And I don't care that the second time she only let him go down on her. Fuck, that's still cheating. And no way I was getting saddled with a low-down, whore slut! She got all the sympathy, and all the cash, leaving me all the debt. Sucks to be me.

So I was bitter. Angry. Fuckin' pissed off, at her, our friends, our family. Can you blame me for not talking to them? They all took her side. The cheater. The slut. The lousy money grubbing whore!

Me, I was penalized for being loving and faithful. Working hard, investing well, diligently putting hundreds of hours of work into our house, being conscientious and saving. Listen up you guys, there's a message here for you.

You think you've got it good? Take it from me, the best wife in the world is a whore at heart, and her primary goal in life is to destroy your life and your soul. Some just take longer than others, and hide it better.

Except Mom. Maybe. The ways she took the whore's side, had me wondering about her. Her and Mrs. Evans, my third grade teacher. That woman was a saint.

I was alone, working my ass off, paying the bitch alimony, and starting from scratch. According to everyone else, I was the evil one for being so hard-headed and pushing her into the arms of her ex, since she had nowhere to go.

Nowhere to go? She made over $70K off me, and I was paying her $1200 a month on top of that, for three years. She could have gotten a job, right? That's what I did. No, she remained a whore, fucking her ex for a roof and to keep her in the style she was used to, although he really couldn't afford it.

But she wasn't happy. She wanted me back. It was all my fault.

I still probably could have gotten over it in time. But they wouldn't leave me alone. Nobody would. Give me a fuckin' break! If I had to hear one more time how I should give her another chance...

She was at my sister's wedding. Fuckin' hell, she was a bridesmaid! The treacherous bitch was in the wedding, and I wasn't even a groomsman. Did I make a fuss? Did I refuse to show up? No. I was good about it.

Alright, the large canvas painting of Benedict Arnold might not be everyone's taste, but it was a gorgeous frame, and cost me more than $300. Better than another lousy toaster, right?

I went alone, but did my cheating ex have that much class? No. She brought her fuck-toy. I didn't make a scene. Didn't kick his ass like he deserved. I'm not a Neanderthal. I even danced with her when she asked.

"Can't you forgive me, Rick?" she asked.

"You look gorgeous tonight, but then again you always have." See? I was trying to be nice.

"I'm sorry. Take me back, honey. You're the only man I loved. I made a mistake, but I never stopped loving you."

"Nice car you're driving. New Lexus? I wish I could afford something like that. I'm still driving the old Honda. At least it's almost paid off."

"Talk to me baby. What's it going to take? We were meant to be together, everyone knows it. You'll never regret it, I swear. I'll make it up to every day for the rest of my life."

"Nice night for a wedding. How much you think those ice carvings cost?"

She ran from me crying, and of course I'm the bad guy all over again. Jesus! I was trying to be nice. Never once told her what I thought of her. Didn't curse or nothing. And

I'm

the asshole!

I listened to my Mother bitch at me, over my behavior.

"Stop it, Mom. I didn't

do

anything. I was nice to her. I just didn't want her to think there was any chance of taking her back."

"Why not? She's a wonderful girl. She made a little mistake, and you blew it all out of proportion. Nobody will ever love you like her, and you're not fooling anybody. You know you love her just as much. Stop being so stubborn!"

"Why won't you ever take my side, Mom? She cheated on me. I did nothing wrong. I'm your son, you should be with me on this."

"Honey, you know we're all she has. We're her family, she's like our daughter. We love her, just like we love you. We want you both to be happy. Like it was."

"She's not your daughter. She's the cheating, thieving ex-wife of your only son. No, it's over. I wish you'd just leave it alone so we could both move on!"

It had been three years, and it never stopped. I was surprised to see her show up at my door one day. I wasn't a dick. Didn't slam the door in her face. I let her in. Offered her coffee. She took off her coat, and she was wearing a sexy negligee. Very sexy. Damn, she still looked good.

"Please, Rick. One last time, I'm begging you. Take me back. I swear, I'll be the most loving, faithful wife in the world. I want to carry your children."

I shook my head. "I could never trust you. You fooled me too easily. I never had a clue, Sheri! You broke my heart, and then you raped me in the divorce. Ran off with the asshole who helped you destroy our marriage and my life."

"It wasn't me. I didn't want any of that. All I wanted was you."

"You hired the sharks, you signed the papers, you did your best to leave me in the poorhouse. I barely had a pot to piss in. And you're driving a new car, new jewelry, wearing fancy lingerie. You've got it all, and you left me nothing but a broken heart."

"I just need a second chance, baby. I'll never be happy without you. You're my soul-mate. Take me to bed, now, and I'll never leave you again. I'll never, ever be with anyone else."

"Not gonna happen Sheri."

She got quiet. "He asked me to marry him, again. I don't want him, I want you, baby."

"You're not gonna get me."

She threw herself at me, mascara messing up my collar, snotting up my shirt. Man, that woman could cry. "Don't... make me," she snorted, sobbing. "...marry him."

"Nobody's making you Sheri. You're free to do anything you want."

"I want to be with you, Rick!"

"Other than that."

She eventually left, and I had to listen to the shit all over again. Why couldn't I be reasonable? Didn't I have a heart? A soul? She deserved a second chance.

I was fed up. But did I explode? Shoot anybody? Set any houses on fire? No way, I kept on keeping on, working and surviving. I didn't have much else going for me.

But they wouldn't let it go. Even then. The bitch was engaged to be married, planning her wedding, with my mother and sisters helping her, and they were still tag-teaming me with guilt and pressure. Every fuckin' day. "It's not too late." "All you have to do is say yes." "She loves you." "Have a heart." Mom always had to pull the "I'm-so-disappointed" card.

I don't know what kind of pussy she was marrying to put up with that shit. I know I wouldn't.

It took a lot of pleading and begging for them to convince me to attend her wedding. I fought it, but family knows how to wear you down. Final closure, they said.

I showed up, dressed nice. Even bought them a gift. A toaster. No more sentimental gifts, those don't go over so well. I learned my lesson. I was standing around outside, loathe to face all the people who knew what she'd done to me. But I was there, doing my part.

Mom cornered me. I don't understand her. She swears she wants me back with Sheri because neither of us will be happy without the other. Why can't she figure out I can't be happy

with

her? She cheated on me, she dragged me through the coals, humiliated me by openly confessing her infidelity and moving in with the asshole. Then spent the next few years taking money from me, living with the bastard, and never letting me get over it, rubbing it in my face almost daily.

"She wants to see you, Ricky. She's so happy you're here. It's the only thing she's happy about. Let her say her piece, alright?"

I allowed her to point me in the right direction, and close the door behind us. Sheri was overjoyed to see me, and leapt into my arms. I only held them out to protect myself.

"Baby," she whispered, kissing my face, crying. "I knew you would save me. I love you so much."

Save her? The bitch was doing this on her own. I don't know why, but I finally snapped. I'd tried being understanding, being the nice guy. I swear I tried for 3 fucking years.

I turned her around, and lifted her wedding dress up out of the way, exposing her stockings and little white thong. Opened up my pants, and in a few seconds I was sticking my cock in that whoring slit that should only have been mine. I pounded her angrily. One last payback I thought. Let her go to the altar with my cum dripping down her leg. I owed the bastard that much. He took her while she was mine, I was going to have her one last time.

I wouldn't do it once she was married. No, I'm not like them. But for these last few minutes, we were both single. Alright, maybe I'm justifying myself a little, but she hadn't said the vows. Fucking her in her bridal dress, only minutes before she was going to walk down the aisle, may make me an asshole. So be it. I've never denied it.

God, the woman had a sweet rear. Smooth, white, tight. I eased up and figured I might as well enjoy it. It only took a couple of minutes to load her up, but she turned, dropped to her knees and got me hard again. I was surprised by that. She never liked a sloppy cock. I guess now that she had a sloppy cunt, we were even.

Once I was hard, I lifted her ass, and set her on the edge of the table. Pushed the dress out of the way as much as possible, moved between her legs, and had at her again. I had missed this. Not the cheating whore part, but the sex. Sex with Sheri had always been wonderful. Angry sex was very intense. Hot. I kinda liked it.

The door opened behind us, and my mother poked her head in. "Just a few..." she started, then I saw her smile, and blush. "Never mind. I'll hold them off. You two take your time working things out."

I let the whore kiss me, apologize, profess her unending love. I pumped her, and spent a couple of minutes figuring out how to unsnap the back of her dress, so I could get a shot at her tits. It was almost funny, banging her steadily while she gave me directions.

I peeled the top off her shoulders, exposing her big breasts. Nipples as hard as rocks.

"I love you so much, baby!" she cooed. "Thank you. You'll never regret it."

Bullshit, I was already regretting it, but not enough to stop fucking her. I guess hubby was going to get two fresh loads. Big ones. It had been a while. Three fuckin' years.

I was getting close. I leaned into her, holding her tight, thrusting away frantically, while she gasped, whimpering. She screamed my name, coming for me, as I blasted my second load deep.

It was the passion of the moment. That's the only way I can explain it. I sure as hell didn't mean it. No fucking way. "I love you," I groaned into her ear, and started the waterworks.

I pulled out of her, wiped my cock on her garter, and adjusted my pants. I helped her fix the top of her dress, set herself right. Not that it was going to help much. Her hair was a mess, her lipstick smeared, her mascara running. She had the just-fucked look down to a tee.

You would expect I kissed her goodbye, wished her luck, and watched her walk down the aisle to her new husband, waddling, dripping with my seed.

If I had, maybe I could argue I wasn't

really

an asshole. I'd been pushed to my limits, but hadn't done anything horribly bad.

Sheri hugged me, kissing my face greedily. "I knew you wouldn't let me. I knew it. I knew you still loved me," she purred. She took me by the hand, and walked out of the changing room. Mom winked at me, smiling.

Sheri turned in the foyer, and walked out of the church, dragging me behind her.

I guess I could have stopped things, but I wasn't thinking straight. And I was still pissed at her cheating, at the financial beating I'd taken, at the asshole who'd seduced her. Pissed at my entire family and all our friends.

She got in the waiting limo, and gave the driver my address. Sheri got on her knees and opened my pants, and started sucking me like her life depended on it.

I wondered what was happening at the church. Nothing good, I imagined. It was 10:20 and I was pumping her hot cunt again, when the driver pulled up in front of our house. She wriggled off me, straightened her dress, and grabbed her little purse. The door opened and I followed her out, after pulling up my pants. She handed the driver an envelope. "That's all for us. You should probably go back to the church. My fiancé might need you."

He looked confused, glanced at me, and I just shrugged, following her up the steps. I opened the door, and she was already squirming out of her dress. "Find me something to wear, Honey?" she asked, grinning sexily.

I had a box of things I'd missed when she first left. I'd never gotten around to dumping them or giving them back to her. Don't know why. It's not like I'd take them out, lay them on the bed, roll around in them and cry for what I'd lost. After what she'd done to me? Shit, no way. A man with balls doesn't do that crap.

I fetched the box out from under my bed, and offered it up to her. She was naked, and pulled me in for a quick kiss. "You gotta help me, Rick. I did something stupid."

No shit. "Again? What was it this time?"

"I gotta go to the bank. We put our names on each other's accounts, and I'm afraid he might do something crazy. I gotta move our money."

Let me explain. I was running on automatic. Shocked, confused, irritated, horny. It was 11:00 am on a Saturday. The banks would still be open, so I let her kiss me some more, then piled in the car and drove her to the bank.

She couldn't just arbitrarily take his name off her accounts. Or vice-versa, so she suggested an easier solution. She'd move the money into my account, to protect it. I was stunned to see she had over $100 grand. She explained that she never spent any of 'our' money. Not the divorce proceedings, not the alimony I'd paid her. It was ours, and she was waiting for us to get back together. The damn slut was delusional.